#this scene was pretty harrowing to write

[wutheringmights]

What is your thought process whenever ur writing for CTB? Does it change whenever ur writing for the past and present section? Im really curious!!! :D

Writing CTB is a lot of crying and begging the un-answering universe to give me a sign that any of this is good.

Okay, but actually it's a lot of problem solving. I'm somewhere between a planner and a planster in that I know where I want to go with a story, but I have to figure out the how as I go. For a fanfiction that gets updated as I write each chapter, it means I have to keep track of a lot of moving parts to ensure the duct-tape holding everything together isn't all that obvious.

The major difference between the past and the present is how careful I have to be for each. With the present, I can let the characters tell me which direction they want to go without sweating the long-term consequences too much. But the past has a railroad it has to stay on so that Link, the engineer, and the child can became Warriors, Spirit, and Time in the present day. Sometimes, they go the direction I need to go perfectly. Other times, I am banging their heads together and demanding to know why they are refusing to have X argument, or why is Y not feeling a certain emotion.

The present day is like watching a classroom of children have fun on a swing set. The past is like trying to wrangle those kids into taking a fucking nap.

[whirlybirbs]

i am on my hands and knees begging for a shred of keigo takami baby bird kfc angel content from you, if you write hawks i will finally know true peace

— MEET & GREET ; 1 / 2 ; HAWKS ; 啓悟

summary: you manage to snag two VIP meet & greet tickets for your nephew's birthday. he insists you join him. part one of two. pairing: keigo takami ; hawks / f!reader word count: 3.1k tags: humor, meet-cute, pro hero culture, birbs ignores all relevant timelines yet again, fluff, phone-flirting, hawks is great with kids, t+, relatable pre-hook up hesitation, they will fuck next time a/n: hawks is the chappell roan of the mha universe. stop touching him. this man actually changed my brain chemistry in early 2023 but we don't need to talk about that. anways, this poll was on the ropes all day and i made the executive choice to feed the hawks birblets.

You feel like your face has been set in a semi-permanent cringe all morning. 

In your right hand, you're clutching your half-finished iced coffee for dear life. In your other, you're clinging to your nephew as he drags you through the convention center — one of the bright red wings of his beloved, homemade cosplay has started to go lopsided, and the six-year-old excitedly tugs it back in place as he tries to yank you forward.

"C'mon! We're gonna be late!" 

This really wasn't your scene.

Fan conventions had a way of making your skin itch. The amount of sexy All Mights you've seen this morning alone has to be some sort of milestone indicator for the environment. Whether nature is healing or dying, though, you have no idea. 

If you had it your way, you'd spend the rest of the day mingling through the artist stalls — but, to your nephew Hayami's point, the two of you had somewhere to be.

Your VIP meet-and-greet badge swings as you trip up and laugh. "Okay! Okay, slow down! You're about to yank my arm off!"

It was the best birthday gift imaginable for Hayami. You officially cemented your title as The Coolest Aunt Ever when you managed to snag the two VIP convention meet-and-greet tickets (complete with a professional photo and two signed copies of the convention's annual poster) after a harrowing seven hours in an online Ticketmaster line. There were only a hundred of them sold — and sure, you coulda thrown that pretty hunk of cash into a college fund for Hayami, but he was deeply in his hero phase. 

Originally you expected that Hayami's father, your brother-in-law, would want to go.

But, no, Hayami himself insisted you come with him.

After all, you helped me with my costume, he begged, I wouldn't have been able to do it without you!

That you did. Many a hot glue gun burn was suffered at the hands of those damn red feathers. If you squint from far away, the cosplay isn't half bad considering the thrift and dollar-store materials. It wasn't one of those inch-to-inch replicas, but it worked. 

He's like a cute, bouncing mini Hawks. Complete with goggles and wings.

And Hayami is happy. And that's all that matters to you. 

The line is already pretty long, and Hayami runs his gloved hands along the line barriers as he races to his spot, audibly wooshing the whole way — just like Hawks does, probably. His badge jingles, and he hops to a stop as you come up behind him and pat his head. The six-year-old stands up on his tippy-toes, trying to see around the Miss Midnight fan in front of them. 

"Can you see him?" he chatters excitedly, "Ti, can you?"

He's called you Ti ever since he could speak. Auntie was too long, and the shortened version has stuck. 

You hop up onto your tippy-toes, mimicking him — and you swear you catch a glimpse of a crimson feather plumage over the gathered heads of the other meet-and-greet fans. It might be another cosplayer.

"I dunno," you whisper, your eyes darting to your phone's lock screen, "It's supposed to start any minute—"

The telltale roar of fanfare lets you know exactly who has just arrived. 

Hayami's excitement is palpable. Without a word, you're hauling him up and perching him on your shoulders. His hands land in your hair, and you can feel his smile from down here. 

"Ti! It's him!"

The line starts moving not long after, and you finish your iced coffee while Hayami stays perched on your shoulders, utterly starstruck. You weave through the barriers, moving up a few feet every minute, until you're only four or five people away from where Hawks sits behind a long table. 

You have to admit, the guy is pretty cute. 

Cuter than the fan-cams make him out to be, even. 

Sandy blonde hair, sharp gold eyes, and big wings. There's no doubt in your mind he's showboating, but as people approach the table, you notice this hesitant twitch ripple through the red feathers every time someone gets a little too close. 

That cringe from earlier washes over your face again as a girl reaches over the table to roughly run her fingers across one of his flight feathers. 

It's Keigo's least favorite part of all this. 

I mean, there's a part of him that gets it. He's the #2 Hero in all of Japan. He's a big deal. He's top of the popularity polls, he's the people's bird, y'know? He's a marketed commodity that sells out each and every time. 

But, that doesn't mean he likes being touched.

Especially the wings. Hands off the wings.

"Hey, Hayami?" you ask, tilting your head up as you both step forward.

You can feel the sudden nervousness creeping up on Hayami as he nods and looks down at you. "Y-Yea?"

"Make sure you ask for permission if you touch his wings, okay?" you say gently, muscling him down from your shoulders and doing a once over on his mini-Hawks cosplay, "And remember to tell him your name!"

Hayami nods, his nerves palpable as he realizes the two of you are next. 

On instinct, his hand shoots out and grips yours for dear life. 

And then, one of the marketers waves the two of you forward.

The first word that comes to Keigo's mind is MILF. You're cute. Real cute. Definitely not the usual sort he meets at conventions, and definitely not the usual sort that buys a ticket to his meet-and-greets. The kid clinging to your arm is arguably even cuter, and Hawks can't hide the blooming grin on his face when the pair of you step forward.

"Woa-ho!" he yaps from behind the patterned table, "Dude! Nice outfit!"

Hayami is panicking. You can tell from his shocked silence as the two of you step forward. You bend at the knees, squatting to your nephew's height, then encourage him to go ahead, go on. His big, brown eyes bob from you to Hawks. 

"Go ahead, Hayami," you encourage softly, "Say hi."

Oh, shit. You're really cute. Is this your kid? Nah, no way. You're way too young to be his mom. Unless—

You've seriously got him weighing the pros and cons of step-fatherhood and he doesn't even know your name. 

He could do stepdad shit at twenty-six. Right?

"Hi, Mr. Hawks," comes the shy voice of the mini Hawks before him; the sandy blonde's chest clenches. 

This is too fuckin' cute.

"Heh, hey kid," he chirps back, leaning forward on the table as his mouth curves into a friendly grin; Hawks' eyes are trained on the kid's growing smile, "What's your name?"

"H-Hayami."

"It's cool t' meetcha, Hayami," Hawks parrots as your own proud smile grows. There's relief flooding your shoulders. Thank god, Hayami didn't choke the clutch moment, "I like your wings, lil' dude!"

Hayami gives a little turn, wiggling his prized, handmade possession. His confidence is building; the compliment lights the kid's cheeks up. 

"My aunt helped me make them!" Hayami chatters, his eyes brightening from behind the flight goggles strapped to his head, "She says I need to ask for your permission to touch your feathers!"

Keigo's gold eyes slip to your face. You give him an apologetic grimace, your eyes flicking to the girl beyond the VIP area still screaming about how she touched him, she touched Hawks, oh my god. You mouth out a silent apology.

Hawks' finds himself a little speechless. Doesn't happen often. 

He's not used to having some say in how he's objectified and consumed.

A sandy brow quirks as he pushes his yellow-tinted visor up, and into his hair. He seems shocked. It's not an expression you've seen on the #2 before — and in the last few weeks, you've seen plenty of Hawks content during Hayami's cosplaying journey. The reference material is pretty expansive.

"That's real considerate, chickadee — I appreciate that," his voice is soft; his smile is a little looser, "C'mere, Hayami, you wanna hold a feather while I sign your poster?"

This is, like, the best day of Hayami's life. 

Hawks brings his visor back down. 

You stand to full height, wringing your purse's strap, watching Hayami hold both hands out as one of the delicate pieces of plumage floats into his hands on command. He cradles it like treasure, his big brown eyes glimmering with new-found amazement. 

You step forward, and place a hand on Hayami's shoulder as he gently ushers his hands toward your face. "Ti, look, isn't this, like, the coolest thing ever — it's one of Hawks' feathers!"

Hawks' eyes flick up to the two of you as his pen darts across the two VIP package posters. There's a smirk on his face as he pays half attention to the task of signing. 

And scribbling his number on the back of one.

"I see that," you chuckle, leaning in to inspect the beautiful, crimson feather, "Make sure you say th—"

Before you finish your sentence, the very feather in question darts up to tickle the tip of your nose. Your immediate reaction is to scrunch your nose and grin. It's not so much ticklish as it is gentle. For good measure, Hawks gives Hayami a little brush on the cheek, too. The boy descends into delighted laughter, allowing the feather to zip back through the air and into its designated place in his wings. 

Hawks is smirking.

"Alright you two," comes the level voice of the marketer; the camera in her hands is bulky, and a signifier that their time meeting #2 is nearly up, "Let's get in nice and close for a photo!"

The table proves to be a bit of a pain, but you bend down to Hayami's height as Hawks leans over the table and gives you both bunny ears. The camera flash burns bright in your eyes as Hayami's hand darts into yours again. 

"Here you two go," Hawks rumbles easily; he's standing now, and you find yourself yet again struck by how handsome he is. He smells like summer air and some expensive cologne you'll probably never know the name of. Definitely one of his sponsors. 

You take both posters, as Hayami's excitement seems to overflow and he's nearly buzzing with excitement to know he has Hawks' autograph. The boy bounces at your heels as he clutches his signed copy of the annual convention poster. His big, brown eyes are wide with pure joy. 

"Thank you!" Hayami chatters, "You're the best, Hawks!"

"Thank you," you smile, taking your own poster as Hayami's hand rockets back into yours.

"Nah, it's nothin', chickadee. Thanks for the manners," he calls after you with a touch of good humor, "You're real sweet."

"No problem!" you stutter out, thrown entirely by the compliment, as one of the other marketers guides you towards the exit with a hand on your back. 

"Oh, hey! One last thing!"

You flick your eyes back over your shoulder as you're shuffled out of the meet-and-greet.

You watch Hawks mouth 'check the poster', and with a hand held up to the side of his face. Then, 'call me'. 

"You're kidding me."

Hayami is finally asleep — and your sister is closing the door to his darkened bedroom as she hisses the words out. You're leaning against the hallway wall, arms crossed and looking entirely exasperated.

"I can't just call him," you say softly as you kick off the wall and follow her into the kitchen, "This isn't, like, the hot waiter who leaves his number on the receipt—"

"No, it's even better," she chatters, moving towards the unfinished glass of wine that sits on the dinner table, "I swear to god if you don't pick up that phone and call him right now—"

It's your brother-in-law who speaks up from the couch. "What's stopping you?"

"I don't know, being chronically single?" you cry as you throw your hands, "I haven't gotten a wax in months—"

"You seriously think #2 cares?" comes your sister's flat reply.

Your brother-in-law mimics her affectation. He throws a finger in the air. "Real heroes don't care."

The two of them high-five. 

...They're probably right.

You suck your teeth as you cross your arms again and weigh your options.

I mean — it's only eight o'clock. It's early. And it's a Friday. 

It could go two ways — you break your year-long dry spell with the #2 pro-hero in the country, or it's a total bust and he turns out to be a massive weirdo. Both are frankly pretty entertaining. 

You chew your lip.

Then, you decide.

You kick off the wall and move towards your phone in the kitchen. It's sitting beside the poster. 

"Oh my god, are you doing it?" your sister calls from the couch, her hand gripping her husband's arm tightly.

"I'm doing it," you say, ignoring the bite of nervousness in your hands as you type in the cell number that was scrawledhastily on the back of the poster. 

"Ohmygod."

It's ringing.

Suddenly, you have an audience. Your sister and brother-in-law are crowding you, their faces wide and expectant as it continues to ring. You pull your thumb to your mouth, pushing your bottom lip between your teeth. You let it ring, and ring, and just when you settle that you're being sent to voicemail, there's a click and a voice.

"'Ello?"

Your sister slams her hand into her husband's back, the two of them scrambling in a sudden flash of limbs and excitement. You drag your thumb across your throat — gesturing for them to cut it out. 

"Uh, hi," you fumble, "Is this... Hawks?"

Suddenly, there's a bark of laughter on the other line. "The one and only. Who's this?"

A slow smirk tugs at your cheeks. "I checked the back of the poster — a bold move, y'know."

"Convention Cutie!" he practically cheers, "Hold on, hold on — gimme two seconds, lemme just land."

Your lips part and you blink. The mental image is a hell of a thing. You swallow down a bought of amusement. "Sure, sure, take your time."

Keigo was starting to doubt you'd actually call him. The convention wrapped up hours ago, and he already made himself busy by exploring the southern city. It's nice here. A little bit like his hometown. Not too much crime, which has made for a pretty uneventful evening.

Until now.

His boots touch down on the nearby rooftop and he settles into an easy squat. His wings tuck themselves tightly against his back. 

You can hear a bit of wind bristle against his end of the receiver. 

"Alright, alright, sorry," he rumbles out, "Now you've got my full, undivided attention—"

You tug on your bottom lip. Your sister and brother-in-law are entirely hooked on the little bits they're overhearing from their spot across the counter. Your sister takes a long drink of her wine.

"Am I... being a bit of a distraction?" you ask, "If now isn't a good time—"

"You've been a distraction all day," comes the smooooooth reply; even Keigo's proud of himself for that one, "I'm just out for a fly. Nothin' too serious. I am glad you called, though."

Oh, fuck. Your knees feel like jello. You white-knuckle grip the counter as your sister gnashes her teeth and mimics biting her fist in silent mimery.

"Yea?" you pry, fanning yourself as you lean farther against the counter. 

"Yea, definitely," Hawks grins as he tips his head back and checks out the stars, "You busy tomorrow night? I'd love to take you out to dinner."

There's a commotion across the kitchen. The two of them are smacking one another's arms, their genuine excitement is palpable as they try to stay quiet. They're failing.

"I'd love that, Hawks."

This is new for him.

Technically speaking, you're not a fan. Your nephew is. So, this doesn't technically qualify as one of those unspoken hero faux pas. Don't date fans. Then again, what does it matter? He can do whatever he wants. 

And you're cute. And nice. And kind. And maybe he's being a sap, but seeing you with your nephew made something in his heart tighten. He didn't even notice he was making a nest of scrapped trash from the posters around his seat until the afternoon was over. 

God, sometimes the evolutionarily deep, bird DNA thing is weird.

Hawks lets out a tight breath he didn't realize he was holding. 

"Cool. Okay. Uh, you... you chill with, like, 7pm?" he fiddles with his visor, "I'm... I'm free whenever so..."

He sounds nervous. Your grin is so bright it could outburn the sun. 

"That works for me," you say as you fiddle with your lip, "As far as dress code goes... Do I, like, need a flight suit?"

His laugh is warm. 

"No, no, I — I was gonna get us an Uber," his voice lilts into something more mischievous, "Unless..."

"Maybe after dinner," you remark easily, swaying side to side, "You can show me what those wings do?"

Oh, smooth. Real smooth. Keigo's face is warm. His wings in question twitch eagerly at the invitation. 

"You gonna ask before you touch?" he teases back into the receiver, his brow raised.

It's your turn to laugh. "Hey, it's called being polite."

"I appreciate it," he rumbles out, about earlier at the convention, "Seriously. People are grabby — these things are sensitive..."

"Making a mental note of that, and filing it away," you flirt openly as your sister cheers silently, "For after dinner, maybe."

Keigo's brain stutter-steps. His laugh is surprised. He's about to comment on how you might just be the girl of his dreams when suddenly the wail of sirens perks up his attention. It's two blocks over. Three fire engines. The wind is carrying the smell of acrid smoke. 

"Hey, chickadee, I, uh... I gotta go," he says, standing and allowing his attention to drift to the scene playing out in front of him; it's a house fire — must be — on the southern side of town, "I'll text you the spot for tomorrow, is that okay?"

"Of course, don't let me keep you," you hush, "I'll... text you?"

"I'm countin' on it."

"Bye, Hawks."

"See ya, chickadee."

You didn't even realize you were sweating until you put the phone down.

Your sister and her husband are there, eyes wide. "So?"

"So," you croon as you laugh and pridefully sway your hips, "I have plans tomorrow night."

Their screaming wakes up Hayami.

As you help the kid back to sleep, you keep it secret that he's a better wingman than you could have ever anticipated. 

[rat-studio]

Soooooo... I read semi-charmed kinda life again... in the span of like four days. Absolutely recommend this fic to everyone, it is so gorgeous and well written and it is such a pleasure to read, absolute props to @griddlebait for understanding griddlehark so well and writing them so wonderfully. (also I love nona so so so much in the fic please know that) (and pyrrha!! and pal in his shawl!! i love these girls!!)

Is my attempt at a comic kinda jank? Yeah. Do I adore this scene and did I spend 12 hours on trying to draw it? Yeah. So BE NICE I WILL CRY.

I will be back with something that is probably much better sometime soon— I have an unexplained amount of creative energy right now and if I don’t ride this wave I fear it will drown me

Less jank doodles and (1) timelapse under cut!

I am shamelessly playing around with my style-- might do a full actual good drawing of harrow and corona because I am obsessed with their dysfunctional relationship (edit: i drew it i drew it i drew it)

GOD PLEASE CLICK FOR QUALITY-- I really enjoy this one :), it was fun to play around with colors and shit

Please notice Gideon's time period accurate weezer shirt, and the green day shirt in the comic that is represented by blobs of color because I didn't feel like actually drawing it

tumblr hellsite will only let me do one video, if anyone wants the other ones I'll post the others separately-- but im pretty sure no one actually watches them. This one is just the most satisfying to watch!

[vintagemulti]

shards and splinters

parings: marc spector x reader , steven grant x reader

desc: apparently what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. now you’ve died and returned alive, perhaps it’s time to test that theory; or risk losing your life once and for all.

warnings: blood, angst, swearing, fighting, guns and gun violence, death descriptions, long as fuck, sex mentions i guess(? if you squint), hurt/comfort, gory i guess (jake🤷🏻‍♀️) writers note: idk how accurate these are bc i’ve been writing this on and off for years but cover all bases i guess xx

a/n: psa to pls reblog anyway she’s BAAAAAACKKK did you miss me ?? i missed youse … if there’s even a moonknight fandom anymore 🫣 i’m so sorry for the 2 years gone from the face of tumblr, i’ve quite honestly had two years from hell and insane writers block so. can anyone even remember this series?? idk maybe you should all reread the first parts 👀👀 anyways. there’ll be one more part to this (will it come this year? next? 2026? who knows…) bc i HATED my original ending and just had to change it. also sorry if this feels rushed or like it jumps around a lot, it’s been written over YEARS, but i’ve tried my best for continuity. also, i know there’s a lot missing in like fight scenes but they are BORING and i hate writing em so i’m not doing it. tried, got half way thru then didn’t touch this for 7 months so.. it’s no fight scene or no part at all. but my last part is pretty much done so hopefully it’ll be posted soon! ill let youse savour this for a while tho lol. on a real note thank you all SO much for all the love, even two years later. it means the world. all my love, all the time x

series masterlist

masterlist

the air felt different now. it was funny; you and marc had been apart hundreds, if not thousands of times, but he had never felt your absence. not like this. no, never like this. it was different now because he knew he could look for you everywhere and you would still be in that room, not breathing, not living.

he could see it all so clearly now. all of what? all of it. everything; life, your life, his life, where everything went wrong, what he should have done, should have said, how he could have saved you.

there was nothing you could have done, marc.

“that’s easy for you to say.” he mumbled, looking down at his hands. “you’re not the one who was halfway through a fucking argument when harrow took her. and if you can remember, harrow took her because of me.”

steven sighed, and went quiet.

“i should’ve died on that fucking alter.”

marc said it over and over, like a prayer, to go back in time and pull the trigger. he was fuck knows where, it looked like the middle of the desert but marc didn’t care enough to question it.

he had walked out of that pyramid and kept on walking - for hours. the hot egyptian sun had began to set, casting a rosy hue on everything. the humidity make marc’s head ache.

steven had gone silent - a small hum of anger in the back of marc’s head. it usually would have surprised marc, for steven to be the angry one. but he wasn’t sure he would never feel surprised again.

are you going to wallow here forever?

marc looked up, low sun glinting in his eyes, making him squint. but he could tell exactly who it was - crescent staff in his peripheral.

“fuck off.”

khonshu laughed. that’s one way to talk to a god.

“fuck off.” he repeated.

and why should i, mortal? why should i listen to you?

“you did this.” it was stiff, cold, a definite statement. “you did this to us.”

khonshu groaned, moving to block the sun from marc’s eyes so he could see him properly. aren’t you going to question how i am here?

“no.”

perhaps you should.

marc could never cope with khonshu’s riddles. they had always infuriated him - never getting a straight answer. but this one, he could tolerate.

“fuck does that mean?” he was looking directly into khonshu’s eyes now - something he had readily avoided for years. “and don’t give me any of your goddamn riddles.”

if you must be so blunt, it would seem like osiris has taken a liking to your poor lady wife. hathor isn’t half fond of her, either. maybe you ought to go back to the pyramid, something tells me your needed.

and he was gone. disappeared with a gust of wind, leaving marc alone in the saharan sunset, shaking and still covered in his wife’s blood.

she’s alive?

“i-” marc looked around. “i don’t-”

his eyes slipped into the back of his head.

steven took a deep breath, swallowing hard. he set off in a run - towards the pyramid.

-

“this feels so fucking weird.”

you were pressed flat against the wall, peeking around every few seconds to make sure one of harrow’s followers wasn’t coming your way.

i must admit, it’s been a while since i’ve had an avatar.

you let out a breathy laugh. was that your first ever laugh since being revived? you supposed it must be. oh, you wished it was one of steven’s jokes you were laughing at instead.

you didn’t think you’d ever find one of his jokes unfunny again.

“where is he?”

it’s hard to tell. i can’t check, unless i’d like ammit to spot me.

humming, you looked around the corner once again, breath hitching when you saw a shadow come closer.

what made your breath stop completely, however, was the slow, melodic tapping of a cane, following every footstep the person took.

harrow was less than two feet away from you.

swallowing hard, you pushed yourself against the wall even harder, back cold against the concrete. you hoped - prayed with your newfound faith in osiris and his mercy - that harrow would turn back the other way, not hearing your thumping heart.

but your luck had ran out for this lifetime.

the tapping of the cane became louder, until you could see the tip of it in your peripheral, crunching glass finally becoming audible. he was about to come around the corner, and see you. you would be impossible to miss, even the bright red of your new outfit making you stand out.

it seemed like it was impossible to escape harrow, and the tapping of his cane. he had killed you once, what would stop him from doing it again?

apparently, a guardian angel. someone spoke, making harrow turn to look behind him.

this was your chance - to slip away and turn the opposite corner, escape harrow in your new life as you couldn’t in your last.

his voice made you flinch. cool, charming, low. like a snake - exactly like a snake, now you thought about it. the way he slid through life, from the bar all those years ago, to now, awakening a centuries old god, aiming to destroy the world.

you could slither away too, though.

still holding your breath, you sidestepped along the wall, making sure to watch your step over any lose stones, until the wall fell away behind you and led you into another corridor.

as soon as the light from the hall had faded, you let out your breath, hands coming to your forehead and rubbing your eyes.

we have to keep moving. ammit is almost ready to begin.

nodding - although it felt like your brain was rattling around your skull - you looked back up and saw hathor, still looking as beautiful as ever.

this hallway was much dimmer than the last. colder, too. it was like all the light had been blocked, the only thing keeping your vision was the small, fading candles lining the walls every meter or so.

perhaps it was your natural instinct, or a new given sense as an avatar, but you could tell - something wasn’t right. something in the air had shifted, on top of the hot, sticky, egyptian heat, there was something sinister.

your years as a mercenary had taught you to recognise something - blood in the air. and there was certainly blood in the air around you.

“what is harrow’s plan?”

he wants to judge people. through ammit, he believes he can rid the world of everyone bad, even if they aren’t already bad.

“so he’s playing god?” the corridor seemed to go on forever.

he would never admit it, but yes. and ammit is the perfect enabler for him, she’ll know exactly what he’s up to, but because he can give her her power back, she’ll play along.

you scoffed lightly. “harrow isn’t stupid either. he’ll know what she thinks.”

hathor shrugged, a few paces in front of you. only time will tell, my dear.

for a few minutes, the walk along the corridor was silent. the tap of your shoes echoed down the hall, breeze from your passing flickering the candles on the wall.

why did you marry him?

it stopped you in your tracks, hathor stopping too.

“what?”

marc. why did you marry him?

you stuttered for a moment, looking around as if someone would come and help you.

i don’t mean it in a rude way. i’m the goddess of love, it’s natural for me to want to know.

“well,” you paused for a moment and began walking again, slower this time. “we were young when we met, i was coming up for 18 and he was 19.”

and?

“and i knew what i had done to him.” you swallowed. “i felt fucking awful, i thought, maybe if i get to know the guy, and he’s not as much of an ass as everyone makes him out to be, it’ll make it easier for me to forgive myself.”

the corridor kept on, as if it were never ending.

“as you can tell, it didn’t work.”

he wasn’t as much of an asshole as everyone thought?

“no, he was,” you gave a dry smile. “it just so happened that assholes are my type, and i think he worked it out pretty quickly. so after only about two months of knowing each other, he asked me on a date. a real date. it was my first ever date too, god knows anton never took me out. but god, he was such a gentleman.

he picked me up, gave me flowers, wore a fucking tie. and he payed for everything, too. dinner at a four star restaurant, a movie, then out to a bar for drinks.

i knew i had fucked up when he kissed me that night.”

you regret it?

“not for a day. and that’s my mistake- i mean, i was supposed to hate him. i told myself i would hate him. so i wouldn’t feel bad about telling someone to kill him. i didn’t even know how he got out alive- he didn’t tell me about the khonshu shit until after we got married.

oh, our wedding,” you smiled again, a real one. “it was perfect. i was twenty one, marc was twenty three. we were so young. it was a small wedding, just some friends, neither of us invited our family. it was the best night of my life.

it was the night i met steven, too. i think the stress of the day must have triggered it. and that was it- there was marc, and there was steven.”

didn’t it take a while to get used to?

the corridor began to open up, getting slightly wider by the meter. still - there was no end to it in sight.

“it did and it didn’t. i knew for a while there was something happening to him, he would disappear, look confused all the time. i knew it was a matter of time until something changed. and then came steven, perfect steven.

he changed so much- it was like dating all over again. he was even more perfect than marc, stupid english accent included. but, naturally, abuthing that’s perfect must come to an end.”

hathor sighed. and it gave you the impression, just for a moment, that she already knew the whole story. that she was humouring you by letting you tell it. her sigh, sad and resigned, almost confirmed that she knew what was coming.

“the-” you stopped. your voice had broken, and your feet no longer moved. hathor continued for a few paces before looking back at you.

i understand, but if there’s any time you need to tell this, it’s now.

“you know?” you voiced your suspicions.

take into account which god i am, my dear. there is no one else i could chose, but you.

you swallowed. “what’s the point of talking about it if you already know?”

you have been born again. revived. would you like to carry this, this horrible vendetta against someone who has done nothing but love you, for the rest of your new life?

“no.”

then voice it. i can take this pain from you, if you only ask me too. i can help you.

you bit your tongue, looking down at your feet and kicking around a few of the loose rocks. hathor waited.

“the baby was supposed to be born just after my twenty-third birthday.”

a beat. hathor didn’t reply.

“but he didn’t live past twelve weeks.”

you looked back up at hathor, anxious for a reply. she didn’t give you one, only nodding.

“i don’t- i don’t know what i did. i was waiting until i could get a scan, tell marc, have it done properly, you know? but when i went to my appointment, i knew. she didn’t say anything, she just looked. then she left, got the doctor to come in.

he said that the baby had died, that they weren’t sure of the cause, but it was a boy. that my baby boy had died.”

tears threatened your eyes. never - never - had you spoken about this before. not even with marc.

“i went home, with a hatred in my heart. the next few days were the worst. i was grieving a child no one knew i even had. the blood was horrible, it hurt so badly. i told marc i was on my period. fuck, for all he knew i was.

and then my baby was gone. and i hated marc.”

why did you hate him?

you shrugged. “i have no idea. i needed someone to blame and marc was the easiest. that’s when it all went downhill, you know? i wanted him to be there for me, for something he didn’t even know happened. and when he wasn’t, i blew up at him. and he blew up at me.

and that was it, for three years. this horrible hatred towards each other, me hating marc for something he knew nothing about, and marc hating me for every other reason.

he hated me the most for making him stay a mercenary. he wanted out, he wanted a normal life in the suburbs with a dog and a big house and maybe, one day, a child.

but i can’t have that. i don’t want that kind of normal - not when i was so close to it and lost it. so i pushed him into this world. i made him take jobs and work himself to death, even when i found out about khonshu. i made him do it.

and that’s why we’re here. because i told him to follow khonshu here. and now look what i’ve done.”

hathor took two, wide steps towards you, and cradled your face in her hands.

you have done nothing that makes you inhumane. none of this mess is you fault. khonshu would have gotten marc here one way or another. anyone in your shoes would be the same.

her hands were warm. you felt a tear fall, running underneath her fingers. “but i’ve been so horrible. i’m a monster - if not for this, for everything else.”

hathor shook her head. you are a human being.

there was silence as you cried and hathor wiped your tears. at least two minutes passed - but it didn’t matter to you. harrow could come running around the corner and you wouldn’t bat an eyelash.

hathor took a deep breath, looking to her left along the corridor. she opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, another figure appeared.

is now a bad time, human?

you flinched at the rough edge in khonshu’s voice. “what do you want?”

what do i want? there’s a long list.

even through your tears, your patience thinned. “seriously?”

hathor took her hands from your face, turning to look at khonshu. enough of your riddles. just tell her.

the unmistakable sound of footsteps, running, drew your attention. they were getting closer.

i don’t think i have to say a word, actually.

just as khonshu had finished, a figure appeared, coming around the twists and turns of the corridor.

your heart stopped.

marc looked around in a daze, eyes falling first on khonshu, then on hathor, then…

“y/n!”

just as he had stopped running, he started again, coming towards you like a lion out of his cage, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you off of your feet.

“oh baby,” he mumbled into your neck.

you had just reached - wrapping your arms around him in equal tightness, hands flying into his hair. oh, god. his hair - his curls, his skin - you’d never take it for granted again.

he pulled back, hands on your cheeks in a mirror image to hathor. his eyes locked into yours, brown irises melting into his pupils, filling with tears.

marc stuttered, trying to get several sentences out at once, before you hushed him.

“please, marc, we don’t have much time. harrow is gonna-”

“i know,” he nodded, eyes still not breaking from yours. “i know- baby, i know. please- please, just give me a minute. i never- i thought i’d never- oh, baby.”

he leaned in, moving his hands out of the way to rest his forehead against yours. he was hot - sticky with sweat and dirt and, although you didnt want to think about it, your blood.

“i know,” you whispered, closing your eyes. “marc, i know.”

barely having finished your sentence, he leaned in and kissed you.

it was like the first kiss all over again, and you supposed it was. hot, needy, passionate, desperate. you could live in this moment.

but the unmistakable sound of khonshu clearing his throat broke your kiss.

if you wouldn’t mind, harrow is about to release ammit. i’m sure your couples catch-up can wait another hour.

“yeah,” you nodded, breaking away, but marc was far more hesitant to let go.

“i can’t-” he looked around, paranoid. “i can’t do this, y/n. i just lost you, i can’t run the risk of losing you again, i’ve never- y/n, i can’t let you go, you’re everything to me, and if harrow- oh god, what did harrow do to you? i swear to god, the minute i see him, i’m gonna-”

he blinked. a beat.

“paranoid git never did know when to be quiet, did he?”

“oh, steven,” you threw your arms around him again. “fucking hell.”

steven, unlike marc, seemed far more willing to let you go. “love, i know, but if we don’t go now, we’re all gonna end up dead. please, we can do this all after, yeah?”

he took your hands in his, stilling your shaking fingers. he was so warm - always so warm.

“okay,” you nodded, looking between him and the gods beside you. “okay.”

-

you had severely underestimated how far harrow was willing to go. it had been what felt like hours, an unrelenting fight. you weren’t even sure when layla showed up, hoping to help you in any way she could.

but her attempts were futile; ammit was huge. really - huge, bigger than the pyramid behind her. khonshu had, as usual, gotten involved too, so that meant he was the same size, almost trampling you with every step he took.

you had tried. really, you had. you’d tried to use your new found avatar abilities to at least land something on harrow, but truth be told, you were failing. he’d hit you far more times that you’d even aimed for him, you were covered in cuts and rapidly forming bruises, you were sure your shoulder was dislocated.

but worst of all? your head wasn’t right. you weren’t sure what was wrong with it - it seemed fine every time you focused on identifying the issue, but every time you weren’t paying attention, it was there again. dizzy, a ringing in your eyes, everything a second or two behind; your vision lagging and cloudy. but just as you’d notice it, it was gone.

it was getting worse, too. you could see marc out of the corner of your eye; he was one to one with harrow. it would have made you anxious if you could properly focus on what was going on. but you couldn’t - your thought were scattered, a ringing back tenfold in your ears, the world had gone distant and hazy.

the doctors told you it was a concussion the next morning. layla had actually came in very handy, able to translate the man’s arabic into english for you.

he had told you that you’d sustained a massive head injury - you figured it would have been investigated, if you hadn’t been one of the people there last night.

‘there’ was all people could talk about. first the sky had gone backwards (you’d missed that part, thanks to being dead), then, out of nowhere, two ancient egyptian gods had appeared, destroying all the buildings in their wake, pyramids too.

it wasn’t that you couldn’t remember it. you could - it was clear in every aspect. it just didn’t feel like you’d been there at all. even the build up to it, every moment from when you’d stepped out of that pyramid, hand in hand with steven, hot air hitting your face;

it wasn’t you.

well, obviously it was you. but it wasn’t the same you. everything felt different, you didn’t have the same emotions you did before. the same key ones, yes, like how you felt about marc, and steven, and who you are as a person, but basic thing, like fear, and compassion? it was gone.

you’d have voiced this to a doctor if you could put ‘i died and got brought back to like by an ancient god, but not the same one who destroyed half of your city last night, sorry about that, by the way’ into layman’s terms.

trauma induced dissociation was enough of a label for you. it fit - everything just felt a little hazy, was all. not that you’d asked your doctor, a google search (excluding the resurrection part) had taken you to pages and pages about dissociation and how it’s normal to feel it after a traumatic event. you were pretty sure dying was a traumatic event.

and yes, you could bring it up to your doctor, he was payed to help you, after all. but there was a strange gnawing in the back of your head: that if you voiced this feeling, it would only get worse, and the happy ending you and your husband currently had would be shred in two because you couldn’t feel properly.

so instead, you listened to his professional diagnosis; a severe concussion, fractured rib, dislocated shoulder, several cosmetic wounds, and mental trauma that would be discovered at a later point, if you ever got around to voicing it to a doctor.

what a lovely shopping list, you thought.

-

it was three days before they let you out, and marc wasn’t getting out for another two after that. you’d had to beg him to even go to the hospital in the first place, but now he was getting the medical attention he’d needed for years, he seemed content in his hospital bed. not that he’d ever admit it.

with two days to yourself (not nights, you’d go back to the hospital and stay with marc), you decided to have the egyptian holiday you had come for.

the first stop was obvious; buy clothes. all of the ones you had were either covered in blood or halfway shredded. once you’d achieved this, in a new white linen sundress (cut below the knees to hide the still raw scars), you felt just slightly lost.

of course, you weren’t lost, you were always quick to get your bearings in new places - mercenary years had left you with a few skills, after all - and you kept yourself in a fairly small area, close to the hospital in case you got an emergency call.

no - the feeling of being lost came from deep down. ever since you’d come back to life it was the same, a strange longing for something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. something you felt you just had to have, maybe not right now, but in the near future. the hazy feeling had already begun to pass, you were sure google had served you well. but it left behind this in its wake, a new, even stranger feeling.

a breeze blew your hair lightly as you looked down the street in front of you. it was picturesque, all kinds of small shops and cafes as far as you could see. you could hear kids playing somewhere, a baby crying in the distance.

the lost-longing feeling piqued at this.

“oh.” you breathed. “oh.”

beside you, hathor, dressed in a golden, floor length dress and looking beautiful as ever, laughed.

oh, indeed. did you forget which god i am?

[silkoodles]

Please tell us more about ur transfem bradley headcanons 😭🙏

I tried to keep these transfem-bradley focused but I just devolved into giving you the plot to the maxley fic in my head involving her. maybe if I just tell you about the fic in my head i won't have to write it lol. long list ahoy

a lot of the pre-transition bradley characterization headcanons i have come from that one fic by @maxstgel that inspired the first sketches. so a lot of these are inspired by that and you could even consider this a fan fic of what happens after that (once it finishes i mean, it's all up in the air since its just 2 chapters rn)

She has not chilled in the least since being taken down a peg, she is still pretty narcissistic, but less pressured to be perfect

She started dressing hyper feminine at first but later got a more balanced wardrobe

likes golf, has taken up mini golf since she can't go to a real golf course easily anymore

She has taken up gardening as a hobby

She finished college as Bradley and transitioned after, once she was more able to cut ties from her family

She works as a retail pharmacist and part time as the jammer in a roller derby team with her friends.

She decided to not pursue residency after graduating because she wanted to get away from her dad more than anything, and residency would have probably taken another 4 years on top of the 8 she spent at college.

She met her current friends trying out for the roller derby team to stay in shape and keep skating. i have come up with designs for all 4 of these girls and i need help

She has a biological little sister who's an adult by now, out of the two, Janice looks more like their mother now. And that kind of freaks her out

Her name's now Janice, after her late grandmother. It's old fashioned but she had a good relationship with her before she passed. I also chose that name cause of the "Sure, Jan." meme, i thought it was funny.

Later her grandfather (Uppercrust the first) finds her, not knowing why his son would cut ties.

He sends Tank to find her, because as far as he knows, Tank was the last person/friend with Bradly iii. Which technically was true, but Tank needed money and didn't have the heart to tell og B.Uppercrust that he hadn't talked to Bradley since graduation.

Queue the most harrowing college reunion for Janice ever because she thinks he's still mad. Tank is more shocked than anything. I actually wanna write this scene

Grandpa's surprisingly cool with Janice (the name and new person) he just wants her to come back to the family because it'd be a waste of a good education and resources.

Max Goof just happens to spot her out in the wild and after realizing who it is, he loses his mind and practically begs her to let him take her out because he needs to know her.

Somehow it works, because Janice likes being sucked up to.

eventually she makes up with Tank and the other Gammas too, I gave them all names and fucking everything. I actually wrote this scene

One of them doesn't realize who she is and starts shamelessly flirting with her.

This guy:

his name is Tony.

[gorelesbian]

Please, tell me your top ten most disturbing books you’ve read. I honestly need recommendations.

thank you very much for asking!!! <3 some of these are so nasty that i feel the need for a disclaimer; i read disturbing horror (sometimes. can't stomach it continiously) when i get bored of everything since i know for sure it'll be stimulating and never boring. these are those books in no particular order!

the troop by nick cutter is about a troop of boy group scouts and their scoutmaster who are camping on an island when a fucked up parasite starts spreading. the body horror and animal cruelty/death in this are beyond insane, the turtle scene haunts me. i gave it 5/5 stars.

any man by amber tamblyn is one of my favourite books ever but i've never dared recommend it to anyone. it's about the male victims of a female serial rapist and genital mutilator. it's extremely harrowing and disturbing but i knew after 30 pages this would be a 5 star read for me, some of the best writing i've ever read. i gave it 5/5 stars. fun fact: amber tamblyn is also the girl who dies in the opening scene of the ring (2002)!

tampa by alissa nutting is about a woman who starts working as a teacher at a high school just to seduce and have sex with (rape) preteen boys. it's written from her perspective and it is extremely unpleasant to be inside her head. absolutely disgusting but also very well written. i gave it 4/5 stars.

earthlings by sayaka murata is about a young girl who has convinced herself that she is an alien from another planet to cope with the horrific abuse she going through. this book goes places i couldn't explain if i tried. i expected this to not be that disturbing and insane since it's quite popular but i was very wrong! i gave it 4/5 stars.

exquisite corpse by poppy z brite is about two gay necrophilic cannibalistic serial killers on the loose and their victims. it's set during the 1980s aids crisis which is very interesting. not much else to say about this one honestly! lot of nasty things happen! i gave it 3/5 stars.

tender is the flesh by agustina bazterrica is about a world in which animal meat has become unsafe for humans so we have started breeding and keeping humans for consumption. maybe not as disturbing as the other books on here but really interesting portrayal of the meat industry and how society treats minorities aka people they deem as "less human" than themselves. i gave it 4/5 stars.

gone to see the river man by kristopher triana is about a woman who has started a relationship with an imprisoned serial killer and has agreed to go on a quest for him. i was stressed as hell throughout this because she brings her mentally disabled sister with her who has no idea what's going on and i massively feared for her wellbeing. it actually wasn't disturbing at all until about 80% through and then it starts smacking you across the face. yikes! i gave it 3/5 stars.

things have gotten worse since we last spoke by eric larocca is about two women who meet online and quickly get involved in a very intense and fucked up relationship. goes pretty hard on the body horror and animal cruelty and baby cruelty. jesus christ. i gave it 4/5 stars.

to be devoured by sara tantlinger is about a woman who becomes obsessed with the thought of being a vulture and finding out what rotting flesh tastes like. she goes further and further to try and find out the vultures' secrets. now THIS is real weird girl swag. i gave it 4/5 stars.

i ran out of novels help. the most disturbing manga i've read is brutal: confessions of a homicide investigator by kei koga and ryo izawa which is about a homicide investigator who secretly punishes the criminals he encounters. this is very brutal. for example he finds a guy who raped a woman and he shoves a stake up his ass. i gave it 4/5 stars.

[moseslikellamas]

♱𖣂 Redfork Menace ♱𖣂 pt.18

Benjicot Blackwood x Bracken!OC

Summary - A dance is held.

Warnings - fem!reader, suspense, adult language, period typical misogyny, condescension, adult language, feelings of shame, feelings of guilt, manipulation, benjicot brainrot, Kieran Burton fancast.

Word count - 2k

Hiiiiiii. I decided to skip the other questioning scene mostly bc I just didn’t wanna write it. I might do a flashback to it later but 🤷🏻‍♀️. Anyway!! I hope we all have a homie like Martyn who will forgive our crimes no questions asked. Here’s some nice Harp music if u want the vibes. All the songs mentioned are in asoiaf.

Shanda was oddly excited given the circumstances, Benjicot had, as he promised, ripped her to shreds during questioning. It was embarrassing to even think about it. She had never been very good at hiding her emotions, displaying them on her face clear as day. He had known that and used it to a harrowing degree. It was lucky she had Martyn to back her up or it would’ve been even worse. Her brother was another can of worms she still had to deal with. But none of this was why she was spinning around her room, excited.

After the disaster of questioning, Lord Elmo had made an announcement.

“Alright you mangy cunts, before I break your hearts and shatter your dreams, I have a proposal. And no, it is not voluntary. You will show up.”

Grumbles went up at that but he had only shot a look that communicated death on protest into the crowd before continuing.

“We’re going to have a dance tonight. That’s right, a proper ball! Now, when was the last time we were all together like this? This is an opportunity for you all to start fresh and build some new relationships. You will behave or I promise a little dance with a pretty girl will be the least of your worries.”

The room was buzzing with whispers before he even finished and Shanda had missed whatever he said after that. As she had already made her way through the crowd to her brother.

“I believe we’ll have a chance to sneak out before it ends to truly talk. I swear, I’ll tell you everything.”

To his credit, Martyn hadn’t been upset at all. Just nodded before he melted into the crowd, losing her and any prying eyes. It was just as well he did as Alysanne found her right after.

“Come on, let’s find something for you to wear.”

Shanda had decided to forgive Alysanne as she hadn’t testified against her. Not that the testimony wouldn’t really contribute one way or the other in the end. It was the thought that mattered. So she let her lead the way.

“How do you know these halls so well?” She asked after the third winding corridor they had turned down.

“Go to enough of these trials and you get bored. Elmo’s like a grumpy uncle, doesn’t mind me poking around a few places. Given I do my part to sway the idiots at home when sentencing rolls around.”

“Are you ever successful?”

Alysanne laughed, grabbing her arm. “Sometimes. Mostly no, but I do try my best.”

Shanda nodded, that was as she figured. At last they came to a door that looked the same as any other but when Alysanne pulled it open, it appeared to be a clothes storage room.

“How strange. Why do they have this?” She asked, looking in at all the various pieces.

“Hand me downs. Elmo says they’ve got generations of Tully ancestors' clothes in here. Which is why he doesn’t mind that we borrow some. Now let’s look.”

Shanda had not looked long when she came across the dress she wanted. It was made so that two pieces joined together over one another. The sleeves were a part of the undergown and blue, so dark it was nearly black. The overgown of the dress was an intricate gold design with calla lilies stitched on in white. It took her breath away. She hadn’t even bothered to see what Alysanne was getting, just grabbed the dress and left.

That led her to where she was now, happily spinning around her room in the beautiful gown. It would be nice to have a single night where she didn’t have to worry about anything. She could just dance and eat, then sneak away to beg her brother's pardon for lacking the good sense the gods gave her. She thought it was ambitious of Lord Elmo to think they could pull this off without any quarreling. But perhaps everyone could behave for just one night.

A knock sounded at her door. She moved to answer it and was delighted to see Martyn standing outside.

“Seems we’ve finally convinced them I’m not going to abscond with you.”

She snorted, taking his offered arm. “Yeah right. Lord Elmo probably tripled the guards for tonight. Fat chance we’ll be sneaking anywhere.” She said loudly enough the guard at her door could hear. It was the first time she had seen him actually stand outside her door.

She dragged her feet so they would not arrive so soon.

“Martyn, I should’ve warned you. I knew he was going to be insane. I, well, suppose I was ashamed.” Her face was tinged pink with remembrance.

“I don’t care. I never did. That day Royce pushed you in the river, I nearly cut his head off.”

She stopped at that, putting a hand on his chest shocked. “You didn’t.”

He rolled his eyes at her before continuing to walk. “Obviously, he’s still here. But I strongly considered it, crazy thing is he would’ve let me. He just accepted that I would kill him and that he deserved it.”

Shanda frowned, her brother had a haunted look in his eyes telling her.

“It’s not right. All of us are fighting. Our mother would be livid to see it, Shan.”

That tugged a smile on her face. Their mother would be yelling at them all.

“‘Family’s all you’ve got!’” She mimicked and Martyn chuckled.

“Too bad she left us with this family and not some other one.” He sighed.

“Come on, let’s find Royce. See if we can’t get him drunk enough to forgive me.” She exclaimed as they entered the great hall once more.

All of the tables were removed, besides the few that held food and drinks. Beautiful streamers of blue and red covered the corners of the room, embroidered with the Tully sigil. Shanda was awe struck by the bead work on them, they flashed iridescent giving the impression of real life scales.

“Let me talk to him first.”

He was gone by the time she replied off handedly, “Yeah, sure.”

She had gotten up close to the banner, admiring the impressive needle work. The beads were pieces of broken clam shell, sewn into the fabric. It must be tedious work to break the shells and then make holes in them.

“A Tully specialty.”

She jumped at Lord Elmo’s booming voice. She’d been so focused she hadn’t noticed him approaching.

“It’s beautiful. Must be awfully tedious work though.” She smiled up at the lord.

“No more so than presiding over court.”

She blushed at that, feeling a bit ashamed.

“I suppose not.”

He clapped her on the back. “Ah don’t worry about it! It always works out in the end. Though, not so well. Or else you all wouldn’t keep coming back.”

On that rather contradictory note, the lord left. Flowers of spring was playing in the background as she looked around the room. It was evident that the riverlanders had taken Lord Elmo’s words to heart. As she saw many of them talking cordially and a few brave souls had even dared to dance.

“May I have this dance, m’lady?” It was Beck Grey who asked.

“Is that? No, it couldn’t possibly be Rebecken Grey. He’s only five two and has a gap tooth.”

Beck smiled at her, every tooth gleaming in the torch light as he led her onto the floor.

“Amazing what seven years will do for a man, is it not?”

They spun around the floor together effortlessly. Beck was a cousin of hers on her mother’s side and it had been a great deal of time since she had seen him.

“I have to agree, it will do wonders. My knees are not half so knobbly now and my aim is much improved.”

“So I hear. Is that how you managed to almost slay Benjicot?” He smiled coyly at her.

“Oh cousin, a dance is not enough for secrets I’m afraid. But if Aunty Harra really wants to know, tell her I’m sure we can work out a deal.”

He shook his head at her ruefully. “Some things never change, eh?”

Before she could answer him they were interrupted.

“Mind if I cut in?”

Shanda would’ve advised her cousin that yes they did mind but he had already stepped aside. He shot him a nasty look as he walked away but he just winked.

“How are you enjoying the dance?” Benjicot asked once they began to move together.

The song had switched to Fallen Leaves which was slower and much sadder.

“Fine before you butted in. Can’t find another pretty girl to bother in all of the riverlands?”

They swayed back and forth, barely turning about.

“Why should I? I’ve made my intentions clear.”

“How about common decen-“

He interrupted her, pulling her closer so he could whisper in her ear.

“Decency is me covering for you while you sneak out to try and rebuild your sibling bond.”

She pulled back aghast. How did he know? Rolling her eyes she blew out a frustrated breath.

“Stop spying on me!”

“Okay sweetheart, but you might want to make your move now. I think the little one is making a break for it.”

Shanda saw what he meant as she met Martyn’s eyes across the floor. He looked exasperated and was quickly going after a hurried Royce.

“Shit.” She muttered before rushing after them.

Benjicot pulled her up short though.

“Wait, half the room will see you follow if you go now. Dance one more with me.”

He was probably right but she really didn’t care at the moment.

“No, I’ll miss them if I wait!”

But he held on to her firmly as the song shifted into the familiar tones of Fall of Maidenpool. She wrinkled her brow as the harp picked up.

“Lord Elmo’s a bit on the nose with this one.” She laughed.

“What do you mean?”

She gave him an incredulous look. “You’re joking right?”

When he stared blankly at her she groaned and explained.

“It’s about the fall of Maidenpool, the defeat of a Riverlander by the Andals. Florian the brave, one of the last great kings. It’s a metaphor for all of us. Hatred, spite and violence are our Andals, and we let them in every day. Tearing ourselves apart from the inside and because of it our lands are weak, disorganized. Ready for a collapse, just like Maidenpool.” She sighed, gutted at the thought.

When she looked back at Benjicot, he was staring at her.

“I think you’ll be safe to go now.” He whispered.

She was out of his grasp and out the door in the next instant, the sound of Maidenpool drifting further away as she looked for her brothers. Walking along the halls it didn’t take her long to hear them.

“…sense of it!”

“Just wait! She’s coming to explain.”

Martyn’s expression was one of relief as she rounded the corner and layed eyes on him. Royce was standing upright looking tense, whereas Martyn sat calmly on the floor.

“See,” Martyn beamed. “Here she is.”

“Right well, explain then.”

“Royce, you hot headed fool.” She held up a hand to silence him when he tried to interrupt her. “Listen to me. However much I grieve that mother went away in hopes of procuring me a suitor, I do not hold myself responsible and do you know why?”

He silently raged in front of her.

“Because our mother could not be swayed nor bullied into doing anything less than what she set out to do. There was nothing you, me or even our father could’ve said to pull her back. Secondly, I have not given up hope on finding her killers and if you give me some time I just might.”

“Oh bullshit, Shanda. You can’t sneak your way into finding everything out.”

“No but you can fucking negotiate your way into just about anything. Pull your head out of your ass! The entire riverlands is here, Royce. Waiting in that room for three very interesting Brackens to chat them up. They are dying for us to talk to them, make a move. Do something useful and help me!”

She could see the struggle playing out in her brother's mind across his face. He made a frustrated noise before running his hands through his hair.

“What do I say?”

Shanda smirked at Martyn before the three of them set to scheming.

[ginsengkitten]

Nightfall: Chapter 1

⛧☾༺♰༻☽⛧

The morning light filtered through the canopy of tree tops, sprinkling rays through the trees. The sounds of leaves and bark crunching under the tread of their hiking boots piercing the peaceful silence of the woods.   A young family trekked optimistically on their summer break. Getting the kids accustomed to the parents preconceived love of hiking that they shared far before ever having kids. It was the kind of trip they had both imagined for their little family ever since their first was born. Billy was a natural outdoorsy kid, Maggie, however was full of animosity towards it and would rather be playing Barbies. Even toting one of her dolls with her wherever they went. Still she admired the foliage, collecting her own bouquet of wildflowers along the way. The innocence of a young child embracing the still of nature and what the earth has to offer just by being.

Maggie encouraged that curiosity by wandering from the trail after straggling behind Billy, fortunately, Billy noticed and alerted their dad. "Dad, Maggie's running off again." To which he rolled his eyes at his daughter's silly habit and proceeded to track her down. Maggie hadn't gotten far, and when the dad had found her, he found her to be mesmerized, standing still in her spot.

"Mags how many times do we have to tell you not to-" he began to scold until his eyes met what hers did, resulting in him also frozen in horror. Maggie had stumbled upon what can only described as a horror scene. A deer lie in a small grove, dead and completely mutilated. Its poor body, unnaturally contorted into a heap of twisted, mangled flesh. The fur, skinned from its body. Flies made feast upon the bloody remnants.

"Daddy, what happened?" Maggie asked in fear. Unfortunately, daddy didn't have an answer. His fatherly knowledge reduced to the same childlike fear as hers as he grabbed her and ran, only to turn around and be met with whatever beast had tore the deer apart. The beast releasing a harrowing growl.

-

"Sources are calling it a total family annihilation; Investigators continue to work with the California department of wildlife and game wardens to determine what animal may be causing these gruesome killings, but have not released any further details to the public.

Police have urged the public to stay within city limits and avoid camping and other outdoor recreation until the animal is apprehended and put down. Local government officials are in talks of implementing a city curfew if the animal is not caught soon."

You listened half heartedly to the news as you pinned another music poster on your wall of your new apartment. Mind you the apartment itself was not new, in-fact very decrepit. A cigarette perched in the side of your lips as you concentrated. A 'vintage' Rolling Stones poster. You stood back and admired the new addition, one more thing to make this dingy place feel like a home.

Your roommate Vickey walked in from the kitchen, handing you a coffee. "Stones huh? Always a classic, I can't complain." She grinned. Vickey was the only person you knew in the entire state of California. You had answered her ad in the paper about looking for a roommate. You had finally gotten a job as a music journalist assistant for a local magazine print. It was small but just enough to get by and get your foot in. Music was your passion, and music journalism at that.

Vickey was a goth punk with black choppy hair, a blunt attitude and big in the rock scene; especially in LA, so the arrangement was working out swimmingly. She took a genuine interest in your work and would supportingly read all your writings and offer insider knowledge about shows. The two of you quickly becoming close friends.

"Another animal attack happened yesterday." Vickey said sipping her coffee. "Pretty crazy shit." . You sort of glaze over that statement, still focused on your interior design pursuit. "An entire family, shredded."

"Yeah that's crazy.." you say tranced on your new poster.

The TV reporter continues:

"In related news, a local church group has began petitioning the state of California for a total recall of all metal and rock music from its shelves, claiming the genres are the primary contributor to LA's recent uptick in crime, violence, and potentially a connection to the recent killings, they say."

Your neck snaps to the tv at this. Vickey scoffs. "Here we go again with these fuckin prudes and their protests." She flops on the couch and starts rolling a joint. "Is this a common occurrence then?" You ask, sort of laughing. Vickey doesn't break from her intense focus on her joint rolling; "The day the churches stop blaming everything on the rock scene is the day the last whore stops working the sunset strip. Shits been happening for generations pretty much. You just gotta ignore it." She grumbles.

"Right. Huh.." you mumble to yourself.

"You know- this could be a good story for the print." You blurt out. Vickey looks up, ushering her joint to you, but you decline by wiggling your cigarette in your lips. "Nah. This shits been covered a million times dude. Those uptight nuns have nothing new to spew anyways." She replies. "No no not for the church, Vickey, but the scene." You countered her. Her expression changed now more intrigued. "Oh? How so?". You pace around gently in thought. "From the rock scenes perspective on it. We ask them what THEY think about it all. Like the musicians and shit." Vickey chuckles and coughs out a cloud of smoke, "I dunno I don't think any local band is gonna give you the time of day unless you got drugs or can give good hea- well, actually..." She gets lost in thought for a moment. "I think I might know a couple musicians that MIGHT be willing to say a few words on the matter. -" you jump slightly with a mute excitement. "BUT- I can't guarantee you'll get anything of real substance from them.." she tries to ease your hopes down on her half offer but your excitement is apparent. "Vickey seriously?! That would mean the world to me. Who is it? When can I see them?!" Vickey smiles at your innocent enthusiasm to go willingly into the guttural den of rock.

"It's a local band called Guns N Roses. They're playing down at the troubadour tomorrow night. I'll see if I can get you in."

[that-ari-blogger]

Worldbuilding (Flutterina)

When I set out to write a series analysing the fourth season of She-Ra and the Princesses of Power, I wanted to focus on individual characters who aren’t the main duo. I’ve discussed Glimmer and Perfuma so far, but what about the world itself?

I would argue that the setting of a story is as much a character as any of the protagonists or antagonists, and the setting of She-Ra is that of a war. You cannot discuss it without mentioning that core aspect.

But up until now, the series has been a focused on the individuals contained within. It describes the conflict between Catra and Adora in great detail, while the war has always been there, just in the background.

Flutterina changes that.

Let me explain.

SPOILERS AHEAD (She-Ra and the Princesses of Power, Journey’s End, Third Life, Double Life, Doctor Who)

The thing that struck me about this episode is how its tone shouldn’t work. This is an episode about how cool the protagonist is and how amazing the fight scenes can be, and it's also a psychological exploration of the everyday civilian. On paper, those two concepts are about as dissonant as you can get. In practice, it is almost seamless.

I want to start with the visuals of this episode, because they really make my point for me. During the party, everything in Elberon is joyful and happy, but it’s juxtaposed with the signs of war. The people here have tried to dress up a tank to cover up for the damage they have received. The tank now shoots confetti, which makes everything ok, right?

“Okay, okay. Terrifying booming sounds were probably a bad idea.”

I want to stress that some the PTSD displayed by the villagers in this episode is the brain working as it should. Key word: some.

If you are in a place where loud noises and danger come from the same place, your mind will link the two and give you intrinsic reflex to get out of the way when you hear a loud noise. This is designed to save your life.

What is bad here is the fact that this reflex was developed. Nobody should have to be under that amount of stress to the extent where the instinct carries over when they leave the battlefield.

A subtle detail in this episode is just how jumpy the mayor is. This woman recoils from everything, even sudden movements from Adora. The war has wrecked this woman's psyche.

But jumpiness isn’t the only symptom of having experienced trauma. There is also numbness, when you lose feeling after your senses being overused time and time again. Sometimes, this is just your mind filtering out what it perceives as white noise, sometimes it is nerve damage.

Journey’s End is a harrowing play written by R. C. Sherrif, depicting life in the trenches during the first world war. It is not a play I recommend if you want to have a fun time reading, but it is incredibly powerful.

There is a certain weight to every word, and a pensive silence that feels empty. Journey’s End does not pull punches.

Most notably in this case is the focus on coping mechanisms. The emphasis on the amounts of each left and right boot is dehumanising as a way of rationalisation. There is x number of boots recovered, x number of pairs left, x number of right boots lost. If you think about the inanimate object, you can forget those who wore them.

But there is also a profound sense of hope in the book, and something I want to link back to She-Ra. Because in Journey’s End, one way people keep themselves in a form resembling sanity is through idolisation. If they look up to someone, it takes their mind off their surroundings. That idolisation becomes pretty separate from the person it's targeted at, and the characters recognise this. Imagine someone who can’t die, someone who you can get attached to because no matter what, they are safe.

That’s what Flutterina does, it shows you people who are coping with extreme hardship, and lets you know exactly how She-Ra fits into this, not just as a hero, but as an idea. That’s why Adora and Bow being so badass in this episode doesn’t feel dissonant, they are the ideals that keep the people of Elberon safe and hopeful.

But I want to talk about the implications of this episode, because they are some of the heaviest in the series, and the eponym makes my point for me.

There's a difference between playing someone who can't act and acting badly. Double Trouble is an incredible actor, and by extension, so is Jacob Tobia.

I don’t think we ever see Double Trouble create a character from scratch. They wear people as masks, and so the character of Flutterina must have come from somewhere.

Also, nobody in Elberon is surprised by the existence of this person, they all recognise her, if seemingly a bit weirded out by a sudden change in mood.

Let’s do some deductive reasoning here, shall we? This was an active battlefield until about a day ago, maximum. Flutterina existed before that battle, and is nowhere to be seen now so Double Trouble could take her place with no pushback.

The real Flutterina definitely got killed in that battle.

Which implies that there is some heavy stakes for this war beyond what we see. The protagonists have plot armour, as is the tone of the story, but when the camera isn’t on you, no holds are barred.

And this isn’t a rare occasion. Flutterina is explicitly a young character, and nobody is surprised by her apparent lack of parents. Where did they go?

I get the feeling there has been more than one battle in Elberon, and Flutterina’s parents never had the chance to meet Adora.

This is a morbid line of thinking, but we are analysing the setting of a war story. There are no victors in war, just survivors, profiteers, and poets.

Let’s talk about the Life Series.

This is an animatic by @vyeoh, in which the use of colour is unrivaled. The fact that these two are each other's worlds is shown by the fact that everything else is in greyscale, and at the end... well, you'll just have to watch it for yourself. (Link)

I am someone who exists on Tumblr and repeatedly goes off on tangents about tragedies and the band The Crane Wives, so it was only a matter of time before this series made itself known to me.

And to be clear, I’m not talking about the original source material here. The Minecraft series is all fun and games, but the fan lore and material added on to it is really what makes it special to me.

Speaking of which, one of the key sticking points of Third Life is the storyline of the Flower Husbands, to people who are just trying to live out their lives in this setting. They pick allegiances to survive, they look out for each other. These two are adorable, and I think it is poignant that they both got killed in the crossfire of someone else’s battle.

The tragedy of Third Life is the collateral damage. The spiral into insanity of two of its characters could have only involved each other, but they brought others in and made them a part of their descents.

This energy was then replicated a few seasons later in Double Life, in the Clockers.

Everen is an animator with incredible talent, and a ton of her visuals are really complex with battle sequences and similar. But the single best shot she ever made was this one:

Two hands reaching for each other, but unable to connect, a relationship broken by violence. Again, this didn’t have to happen, but it did.

That’s what war does, it breaks lives and ends stories prematurely. That’s what’s tragic about it.

The original Flutterina didn’t have to die, and the person who ordered the attack will most likely never learn her name. She is just a number, a casualty. Similarly, the mayor of Elberon will forever be jumpy, unable to even drop a book on the floor without feeling unsafe. Neither of these people were soldiers.

I am fully breaking into my opinions here, and I don’t think I’m being particularly subtle about it. So, let me try and back myself up with one more tangent.

“Because it's not a game, Kate. This is a scale model of war. Every war ever fought, right there in front of you. Because it's always the same. When you fire that first shot, no matter how right you feel, you have no idea who's going to die! You don't know whose children are going to scream and burn! How many hearts will be broken! How many lives shattered! How much blood will spill until everybody does what they were always going to have to do from the very beginning. Sit down and talk!”

This is part of a speech delivered by Peter Capaldi as the 13th Doctor, and I leave it here for you to take as you will.

Instead, I want to talk about how She-Ra changes the rules. I mentioned how idolisation can lead to hope, and that hope is really important here. Because a big part of this series is the hypothetical “what if you could save everyone?”

She-Ra gives the people of Elberon hope for a greater tomorrow, a thing to believe in, but she also gives the audience something to root for. She creates an image in the minds of those in the real world that tells them that the conflicts can be over. War can end, bad people can be stopped, and notably, she doesn’t win by the same rules as the Horde.

The Horde’s tactic for this war has always been “kill everything”, and in the end, Adora won’t do that. Instead, she will confront the Horde’s leader, and stop him from throwing his underlings to kill and die for him.

She-Ra gives us hope for a better tomorrow.

Final Thoughts

Gee, I wonder why analysis of the setting of a war story got preachy.

As a side note, this is one of the episodes where we see Catra get really bad in her relationship with Scorpia, because that is abuse. I’ve seen a lot of discussion of redemption arcs online that limits the story to one extreme. Either the person was bad and can not be redeemed, or they were always good and don’t need the redemption. I think its rather important to the story that Catra does these bad things and they are specifically what she redeems herself from.

But I’m leaving my discussion of Catra and Adora out of this season, because I want to focus on them for season five, so this is all you will hear about her for the moment.

Next week, I’ll be talking about Pulse, and doing a deep dive on how much storytelling can be crammed into one scene. So stick around if that interests you.

Previous - Next

[cabezadeperro]

Hello. (!!!!!!!) I am marathoning your Jango-long-works because I keep on turning the (stunning) way you write this man in my mind like a rotisserie chicken strapped to a wind turbine. I’m just, like. what is this guy’s deal?? Because I adore (adoreeeeeee), the way you write him as he’s like. Inescapable. (In the sense that im reading ‘ships in the night’ and I love how we’re getting a glimpse into his days pre-bounty hunter, pre-new-lungs, pre-‘my rage has simmered down’). Like, his line about: “Jango finished the job because that's why he’s being paid to do—and he has very little now, but his honor is one of those things.” I want to put it under a microscope because, why is he clinging to this job when surely he could have looked for allies? I feel like he feels such an overwhelming sense of. Guilt? Grief? Responsibility? For how Galidraan went, and he does use ‘selfish’ to refer to himself, could that mean he can’t relate or engage with that Mandalorian, even if their goals partially align, because that will be further defeat and he can’t take it. In short, (and thank you for your patience with my rambling! Feel free to reply or not, public or private is fine) the way he Will fulfill a contract but No he is not your mandalor (or he doesn’t even feel particularly patriotic) is such an odd thing that is deeply compelling and I admire (and it’s maddening) how the narrative (your writing style) is not out to Deus Ex Machina him to get himself fixed. I really love how you show the broken/competent/grim parts of him while also keeping him unapologetically himself (but maybe I am still firmly stuck in that harrowing scene he has with the Goran about Arla, that I’m realising now I’m unconsciously putting next to ‘ships in the night’ even if their timelines differ).

Anyway!! I realise I should close an ask with an actual ‘?’, so: did you have any goals when you set out to write ‘ships in the night’ and ‘Arla and Jango revenge road trip’, and if yes, is there any ‘director’s cut comment’ that you’d like to share?? 🤩🤩🤩

HIIII

i was going to answer privately, but when you do that the ask disappears into the ether forever, and i wanted to have some way to save this skdghkgh

thank you so much for reading and for reaching out!! it makes me very happy that you want to talk about those two fics specifically--i'm pretty proud about them and not that many people have read them dfdsfkj (understandable! they're very niche and no one owns me anything lol).

under the cut because this got Long lol

wecome to the "rotating jango fett like a rotisserie chicken" club. it's hard work but someone has to do it. he's my little meow meow and lives rent free in my brain etc etc. i think he's such an interesting character and has so much potential in the little we see him both in the movies and in other materials (like the comics or the videogame), and i don't want to judge other people's versions of the character but i feel like sometimes the fandom doesn't do him justice. he's just so Interesting, i want to study him like the bug. he's key for The Star War but at the same time he's kind of like illegible--kind of like a blank space but not. we know what he did, we know what happened to him, but we don't actually know any of his whys, and i find that fascinating.

his character as it first appears in the prequels is also very interesting. i love how still and quiet and bland and polite he is! he's just some guy (tm), nothing to see here.

iirc ships in the night was actually written as part of an event. it was a gift for a friend, and that meant that i knew i could get more personal with where i took the story. i thought that it would be interesting to explore his character when he was no longer jango fett, mand'alor, but he also wasn't jango fett, bounty hunter yet. your 20s are a Weird time, and i think that in his case they had to be even weirder. it may be because i personally just got "finished" with mine (i wrote those fics right before turning 30 lol), but i find that decade very interesting. there's a lot of change, a lot of shedding layers of dead skin and old personalities and trying out things and messing up and becoming one thing or another, and in jango's case (someone who's severely traumatised, who's lost and lost and lost, who hasn't actually had the time or the space to grieve properly) those years would be even more key for who he became afterwards. he's very raw. he's very scared and still grieving. but there's also this--coldness about him, this ability to intellectualise and dissect and actively ignore his sense of right and wrong until it scabs over and he can forget he ever had one. he's very young and very clever and completely ruthless, and he has nothing to lose anymore.

also, we don't actually know that much about what happened to him between escaping the spice freighter and doing that job for dooku. a decade goes by, and he becomes the Best Bounty Hunter In The Galaxy TM, and we just have no idea of what actually happens to him, or what he does.

that was also my thought process behind monsterkilling i believe? (sorry, it's been a while lol). i just wanted to write something about jango and arla, about arla finding out what happened to him and just deciding to find jango. i think i didn't quite do her justice, but i wanted to explore what would happen if the fact that she needs to take care of her little brother would make it through the trauma and the programming. they're both incredibly messed up and they don't really know each other anymore, and at the same time they're the only ones left. (also: arla's song in that fic is apple tree by marika hackman, and the last scene with the quince tree and the tombs is directly inspired by the song.)

so yeah. with both fics i think i wanted to explore ideas of growing up, change, vulnerability, grief and trauma. i wanted to write about connecting to people despite yourself, about hurting them and getting hurt in turn, and about taking in both the hurt you give and the hurt you receive and deciding what to do with all of it.

anyway! this is a lot! thank you for everything, for your comments as well ❤️❤️❤️ they made me very happy!!!!

[jeejyboard]

u mentioned u would do some stuff differently in the 86 escapes if you were to write it now -- what are some of those things you would change and why?

FIRSTLY I would have reread the series again!! I did a kinda half-assed reread while drafting that helped but really was not properly marinated in the miasma. the vapors... you dig... I also would have more thoroughly perused THE compendium of annotated TLT because it really is gold to have analysis and relevant bits all in one place when you're trying to draft at the same time. also like seriously just look at it holy shit!!! it's @a-big-apple's labor of love

specifically with the fic itself I would reassess the whole prisoner... idk if it counts as a subplot. sub-vignettes?? the idea of a prison installation on this secluded horrible little planet feels SO juicy to me personally but i think the text is pretty disinterested in it and so i kind of overextended. It just doesn't gel the way I would have liked imo. I think i would keep the first prisoner (proto-cytherea gay kid imprinting probably) and ofc comedy comes in threes, but i wouldn't rely on them as a lil frame like I did.

gid's reading!!! I like the idea but the more time goes on i cant imagine this lil bitch using a dictionary lmfao but then how is her vocab like that?!?! I do like how she interacts with ortus in that scene though, maybe that would stay in the library but get noodled around some other way.

i really like the concept of the comic books as a fun frame but i probably would have thought more about what the comics would be. I was listening to a lot of Cuchulainn/irish myth podcasts at the time and liked how it lined up with gideon as a tomboy escapist power fantasy, but I wish i had put more thought into making it make sense wrt the resurrection and everything lost in there. preserving a mythical figure is.... kind of a lot???

I loooove gideon and harrow's growing-up-in-their-pockets only-kids-in-our-generation precociousness but it does press up against my suspension of disbelief a bit. (which like, yeah of course it does look at the series!!!) So I really wanted a kid character that sounded and acted like a kid, even one super uniquely jacked up by their life circumstances, but i think i overcorrected in a few spots. i would either just tone down the amount of info i give in those scenes or tune it more in favor of canon gid and harrow as kids.

wow that was long thank you what a great question

[age-of-greta]

Freaks Come Out At Night

Author’s note: so… hi!! Welcome back to week two of my spooky Halloween series. DANNY LANE WHERE YOU AT????? Truly, I don’t know what compelled me to write this, but here we are. Pls ignore the typos and ENJOY! <3 vibes

Pairing: Danny x reader

Warnings: a lot! Cursing, sexual content, slight violence? Minors DNI

Word count: 3k

“Yeah I’ll be over in about thirty minutes. We just finished recording. I’ll stop by and grab wine on my way.”

“Okay.” You answered, kicking your feet. “I’ll see you soon.”

“See ya.” He responded with a sense of joy in his tone.

You hung up the phone and smiled to yourself. You had approximately 20 minutes before he arrived. Your apartment was close to a lot. Plenty of shops, restaurants, just a few blocks away from their studio. Lucky you.

It started around 3 months ago maybe? You went to a party of a friend of a friend, smoked a little weed, and made eye contact by the bonfire. You still remember his smirk and the way your cheeks dusted pink when he looked at you. He was nervous to talk to you, but that only furthered your intrigue. The first night you met you had slept together. But it wasn’t a typical one night stand. He asked to take you to breakfast after that, then a movie, then lunch, before you knew if you were back in his bed the following night. It had remained that way for weeks. An unspoken agreement that you were faithful to each other, but both of you were too scared to try and slap a label on anything. You didn’t dare to potentially ruin something that felt so good. And that’s what Danny was to you- good.

You padded around in your living room in your impossibly short silk black pajama shorts with a matching tank top. You chose to forgo a bra, you knew Danny would notice as soon as he walked in. You needed to refill your wine glass that was nearing empty, but you didn’t want to drink too much before he got here. You decided to throw together a small charcuterie board for the two of you to snack on. You opened your refrigerator and grabbed some dry salami, an array of cheeses, and olives. You spread them out on your board and adorned them with nuts and dark chocolate blueberries. You smiled at your impromptu little board. Once you sat it on your coffee table you clicked on the tv, turning on Fear Fest. You loved scary movies. Danny was indifferent towards them, but had been watching them all month long with you. You were grateful for that.

The doorbell went off and you jolted out of your trance as the credits began to roll on the original Nightmare On Elm Street. You waltzed over to the door and opened it, smiling at the tall boy in front of you.

“Hi pretty girl.” Danny said, leaning in and giving your cheek a peck.

“Good evening.” You replied with a bright smile.

He stepped in and placed the bottle of wine on the counter.

“Starting without me?” He asked, looking at your baren wine glass.

“Had to have something to hold me over. You took foreverrrrrrrr.” You playfully spoke.

“Apologies my lady.” He said, grabbing your glass and replenishing it with the new wine he had bought. He got a glass out for himself and poured his glass before coming to the living room to join you on the couch.

“You’re too cute.” He said with a smile as he saw the charcuterie board you had made.

You reached your hand out and plucked the glass from him. “It’s the least I could do for the wine darling. Now, what are we watching tonight? I’m feeling something scary.”

He let out a laugh and pulled you to cuddle into him. “Scary? You? Who would have guessed.”

You flicked your eyes at him and smiled. “Have you ever seen Hereditary?”

**

“Okay that was like… super fucked up.” Danny said, his eyes still glued to the tv after the final harrowing scene.

You scoffed at him. “Would you believe me if I told you the second time is worse? If you stare long enough into the background you see all kinds of things you missed upon first viewing. It’s so fucking cool.”

He looked over at you and gave you the strangest look. “You’re a little bit demented. You know that?”

“In a good way?” You ask, already knowing his answer.

He laughs and shakes his head. “In the best way.”

You two had all but drained your bottle of wine and picked over most of the foods on the table. Now you laid over on him as he stroked your hair. Another one of the Freddy Kreuger movies playing in the background. You grabbed your phone and started to mindlessly scroll through your social media. You flipped over to TikTok and turned your volume down. You scrolled through cooking recipes, cats doing funny things, and skincare tips. A certain video of a cat screaming at a plant had Danny chuckling behind you.

You turned your head and glanced back at him. “You like cat videos?”

“I’m a human, of course I like cat videos.” Danny says, matter of factly.

“Boy do I have some good things for you.” You say, snickering to yourself.

You click on your likes videos and begin to scroll. Danny laughs and coos at the cute cat videos. You continue to scroll through the posts you have liked. Your breath hitches as a certain video starts to play and you scrolled past it immediately, hoping he didn’t notice.

“What is that?” Danny asked with a sideways laugh.

“Nothing, just horror movie stuff.” You say, trying to play it off.

“Mhmmm let me see.” He says with a smirk.

Shit. He knows.

You shake your head and he clicks on the video anyway. You could have died when the Ghostface thirst trap played. Your cheeks filled with redness, not wanting him to judge you for a stupid fantasy.

He laughs at it. “You’re into this?”

You blow out a breath. “I don’t know. I mean kinda? It’s stupid, but the whole masked killer being a kinky freak is viral right now. I mean you should see some of the insane lingerie photo shoots people take with Michael Myers.”

Danny nods his head. “Sure, but are you into it?”

You weren’t sure how to answer. You wouldn’t say it was a prevalent kink you had, but the thought of it turned you on a bit. The horror genre had always been your favorite and the first Scream movie made you feel some type of way about the “bad boy” trope. You assumed this was a logical progression in a way.

“This is embarrassing.” You say, hiding your face into a pillow.

He chuckles. “Nothing to be embarrassed about doll, but I’ll leave it. Come here.”

Danny pulls you into his lap and you two continue watching your movie marathon. After this one wraps up, you started to clean everything up before starting another.

“Want some popcorn?” You asked Danny, as he helped clean up the charcuterie board.

“Sure.” He replied. “But we are out of wine.”

“Damn. It’s okay, we can switch to water I suppose.”

Danny stood still and thought for a minute. “You know I can run down really quickly and grab some more. Before they close?”

You give him a pointed look. “You don’t have to do that. I’ll survive.”

He shakes his head. “No really it’s not a big deal. I’ll be right back.”

With that he grabs his coat, kisses the side of your head, and bolts out of the door.

Okay?

You wash all of your dishes, put away the food, and pop a big bowl of popcorn. Then you sit down on your couch and scroll through your phone. The thought of getting on TikTok at this moment still embarrassed you, so you opted to check your email instead. You were so engulfed in your vast amount of emails that you had neglected you barely noticed when Danny came back in.

“Wine secured.” He said with a smile walking towards you with the bottle.

“Amazing. You’re the best.”

He popped the bottle and poured two more glasses. You knew after this glass you would probably be on the cusp of tipsy. Wine always opened you up and made you more flirty. It was why you always wanted some when Danny came over, not that you needed to be inebriated to be with him, but it was damn sure fun.

Danny grabbed you again as you both nursed your glasses of wine. His fingers lightly grazed over your shirt causing a sensation to build in your chest. Suddenly, the movie had lost your interest. You chugged down the rest of your glass of wine and placed it down on the side table.

“Woah take it easy tiger.” Danny said with an impossibly gravely voice.

You flicked your eyes to him and gave him a smirk. “Gonna run to the bathroom real quick.”

He gave you a nod as you slinked down the hall into your bathroom. You peed, washed your hands, and glanced at yourself in the mirror. Showtime. You hiked your silk shorts up a little higher and pulled your tank top down. Then you spritzed yourself with a salted caramel body spray, brushed out your hair, and popped a mint in your mouth. You were ready, you had waited long enough.

You padded back out to the living room and gave Danny a smile. He returned your grin.

“Bored of the movie?” He asked.

“No…” You said, moving languidly towards him. “This might be one of the best Nightmare sequels, but I am ready to-hmmm switch gears a bit? Are you down?”

You stand right in front of him and peer down at him. You can see him swallow hard before giving you a smirk.

“I suppose.” He replies, grabbing your legs and pulling you onto him.

Just like that your lips finally collided. It was like an explosion of anticipation finally being exorcised. Danny’s large hands ran up and down your legs, back, and ass. You slowly began to grind on him, feeling him harden beneath you. He squeezed your hips, hard, which caused you to let out a bated breath. You bit his bottom lip and pulled, causing his eyes to flutter open. When he finally looked at you, he was ready to take you to bed. He picked you up and carried you into your bedroom as you giggled. When he laid you on the bed your shirt and shorts were almost immediately removed. You manage to get his shirt off before he tied your hands to your headboard. It’s always the quiet ones who are the freakiest. Once you were stuck in place he crawled on top of you, peppering kisses down your torso. You thought you would get the normal treatment, but he stopped just above your panties.

“I’ll be right back. Remember your safe word?” Danny asks, giving you a smirk.

You furrow your brows at him and nod.

Then you watch him leave your room in nothing but his black jeans.

Where in the hell is he going? Safe word?

You take a few breaths, obviously worked up from the past few minutes. He knew how to get you hot and bothered rather quickly. You felt frustrated as you waited on him, you couldn’t even touch yourself. Finally you heard his footsteps come towards you again as you prepared yourself for what would come. You felt his presence when he entered the room, but when you looked up your eyes almost popped out of your head.

There he was, standing there still in his jeans. Shirtless, his chest beautifully chiseled. But instead of his perfect face there was a mask. A Ghostface mask. He stood and looked at you, not saying a word. His head cocked ever so slightly looking down at you. You gulped and looked back up at him. Then you saw it, a small pocket knife in his hand, the one he always carried.

Fuck. Is this where he went when he got wine? To buy this mask?

“Danny…?” You spoke out, but you knew it was him.

He continued to stay quiet, but nodded his head. You squeezed your legs together just for the slightest friction. Finally, after what felt like 10 minutes he moved slowly towards you. He straddled you and took his finger, drawing a line from your breasts to your navel. You let out a shaky breath as you saw the blade in his hand. He took it and lightly grazed it over your stomach. The cold sensation made you nearly jump.

He has never done this before. This is why he reminded you of your safe word.

Part of you felt uneasy or unsure. But the other part of you felt absolutely ravenous.

He stroked the blade in the same line his finger had just drawn, not putting hardly any pressure on it. He wasn’t going to cut you, not really. He leaned in closer to you and brought the blade to your jaw, lightly dragging it around. Then, he leaned in close to your ear, the fabric from the mask tickled your collarbone. You felt him inhale your scent before asking; “What’s your favorite scary movie?”

You drew in a breathy laugh. “I think you know the answer to that one.”

He let out a dark laugh. “Oh I do.” He starts as he lightly trickles the blade down your chest again. “Had to give my girl her little fantasy.”

You take in a gulp.

My girl?

His hands fumble around a bit before they meet your clothed center. Slowly dragging circles around, making you whine and squirm. You threw your head back as a finger slipped in the side of your black panties.

“Fuck-“ You let out in a small moan.

You could feel how wet you were, soaked even. As he started to slowly pump a finger into you the room quickly filled with obscene sounds. He was so good with his hands. With each pump you were beginning to rapidly come undone. When he added a second finger and his thumb found your clit you were all but done for.

“Danny- fuck. Please- oh god.”

He grunted at your undoing. “Almost there baby. You’re so fucking hot.”

“Danny, I want to come with you. I want you to fuck me. Take that mask off and fuck me, hard. Please.” You manage to whine out.

You could tell he was slightly taken aback, but he had no objections to your request. Slowly, he took off the mask. His hair was a tousled mess of black curls and his eyes were full of lust. He crawled back on top of you and cupped your breast as his lips found yours again. You reached your leg up and wrapped it around him, needing him closer to you. With his other hand he reached up and yanked on the knot, setting you free. You wasted no time letting your hands melt into his body, tugging at his hair and sliding your nails up his back. He let sighs out into your mouth and you swallowed them whole, greedy for more. The time for foreplay was over, you needed him. You took your hands and undid his pants, starting to slide them off his hips. He got your hints and rolled off of you, stripping himself bare. It was your turn to be in control. You rolled your body on him and pressed yourself onto him.

“Oh fuck.” He said through gritted teeth, as you both made contact.

He drank in your body on top of his as if you were the last glass of water in a desert. You grabbed his length and slowly sunk down on it, both of your breathing through the pure ecstasy coursing through your veins. Slowly you started, rolling and rocking your hips, but as he began to get deeper and deeper you wanted more. His thumb found your clit again and you started bouncing up and down. You could tell it was a show for him, the way he watched you in bewilderment. You could also tell he was dangerously close, trying his hardest to hold on for you. He wouldn’t have to wait long as you felt that fire start to spread in your core. Then it happened, total bliss. You swore you saw stars and you couldn’t even form a coherent sentence. Just strings of expletives, moans, and his name leaving your mouth as if it were dipped in honey. He was right behind you, breathing heavily and full of praise. After, you were entirely too fucked out to even move- so you stayed there as one synching breaths. When you finally rolled off he grabbed your hand and gave it a squeeze.

“Did I go too far?” He asks, nervously awaiting your response.

You turn your head to him and give him a look. “Too far? I think that might have been one of the most enthralling experiences of my life. I mean fuck Danny.”

He huffs a laugh. “Mine too.”

A few moments of quiet fills the room as he still has your hand in his.

“Would you like to do this again?” He asks.

You scoff. “Now?”

He shakes his head. “No, no. As much as I would love to it’s going to be a challenge for me to move out of this spot.”

You giggle at that. “Then yes I suppose we could do it again.”

He turns his head to you and smirks. “Y’know almost like we’ll make a sequel. Sequel rules are different.”

You can’t help the full smile that envelops your whole face. “Someone has been paying attention to their Scream movies.”

“Have to. They’re my girl’s favorite.”

“Your girl?” You ask with a smile.

“Is that okay?”

“Yes.” You answer eagerly.

He leans in and kisses your forehead. Then you both clean yourselves up before returning back to bed. You found yourself cuddled up in his arms as he turned on the television in your room. You knew whatever was on would serve as background sound and light to your slumber. Your eyes flickered as Danny clicked through the channels. You opened them once more when you heard a laugh escape his throat. On your screen was the original Scream movie. You snickered and cuddled further into his side as he stroked your back. He sat the remote down and left your movie on.

How perfect you thought to yourself as your eyes fell heavy again.

And he was, he really was.

[qprstobin]

Different first meeting post-s1 Stobin AU (that sort of turned into Fruity Four) I was tossing around for myself to write but am going to put it out into the world because I’m not sure I’ll ever get to it.

It’s the Spring of 1984, and Nancy is looking for a way to help Steve pad his college application after seeing him struggle with his essay writing for the past few months. Somehow, this leads to her convincing him to join the Spring play, Romeo and Juliet. Not only will it look good on his application to add another extra curricular, but the English teacher always gives extra credit for drama participation, especially the annual Shakespeare play.

Steve, of course, ends up getting the lead role, much to his chagrin, and he turns out to be a pretty good actor. This should all be smooth sailing, a way for him to get an easy add on to his apps, if it wasn’t for who was playing Juliet.

Band Geek Buckley.

She isn’t the worst choice - they have pretty good stage chemistry, and she’s funny in a mean way (in a way he’s kind of missed now that he no longer is talking to Carol and Tommy) but she hates his guts. He honestly didn’t even really know who she was before this, but he could feel her glaring at the back of his head in first period every day.

Honestly, they would be fast friends if both of them weren’t trying their hardest to make sure the other knows no showmances will be happening between them. (Robin for obvious reasons, and Steve because he is very much in love with Nancy at this point and would not ever cheat on her.)

Steve at one point tells her that she isn’t his type (which actually, is kind of a lie but it doesn’t matter because it would never happen), and Robin is just, so fucking offended. She would never want to date him (he’s a man AND an asshole), but where does he get off saying shit like that?? Robin in turn, nearly outs herself at one point by claiming she’d rather kiss his girlfriend than him.

(Nancy on the other hand… spends the entire play very confused, because despite the disgust that both of them express during the (rather chaste) kiss scenes, Nancy thinks it’s kind of hot. She has a lot to think about.)

Even before they become actual, spill your secrets on the bathroom floor friends, they get into so much chaos together. Definitely the type to be bickering with each other but then team up to turn on someone else when they are being rude or creepy. Even though there are no Russian Spies to bond them together for life (yet), they probably go through some harrowing night together that leaves them with something of a headache.

Maybe they accidentally eat too many weed brownies together at a cast party, maybe they get locked in the prop closet for several hours, maybe they get stranded at a gas station outside of town when their director sent them on what was both a “you are going to work your shit out TONIGHT for the sake of the play” and “y’all are the only ones available” emergency prop run. Either way it ends in tears and laughter and bathroom (or closet) floor confessions and a rock solid friendship.

Nancy is happy that Steve has a friend that isn’t just her or Jonathan, and is happy to have a new friend herself, especially a female one.

Tammy Thompson is less happy that Steve’s attention is on Robin, which is unfortunate, as this is Robin’s peak Tammy Thompson era, and Tammy gets mean. Nancy definitely tries to fight her at some point for how rude she’s being to all of them (Tammy didn’t like Nancy much either, she just didn’t honestly care much about Tammy saying rude shit to her, but she isn’t gonna let someone be a bitch to her friend like that). Steve was just going to ruin her reputation, but honestly, he didn’t even need to with how hard Nancy went in on her.

(Nancy trying to fight Tammy is also how Robin moves on from her “god what a priss” mindset regarding her. A minor crush may also blossom. Steve is happy to commiserate over being clocked in the head emotionally by Nancy Wheeler, he made t-shirts.)

Their odd friend group gets rounded out to four (five if you include Jonathan, who does eat lunch with them everyday but who thinks that Stobin are a bit too loud for him in anything other than small doses) by another cast member - the drug dealer Eddie Munson.

This is Eddie’s first try at senior year but his prospects aren’t looking great. English isn’t the only class he’s doing poorly in, but it is one of the main ones, and his English teacher has offered him a boon - get a speaking role in the spring play and he’ll get enough extra credit to pass the class, as long as he makes an actual effort to turn in his work for the rest of the year. He thinks fuck it! Might as well, this is the only deal the hag is going to give me, and ends up landing the role for Mercutio.

His start with the group isn’t as tumultuous as the Stobin friendship starts out, though there definitely isn’t any love lost between them. Steve may have dropped Hagan and Perkins earlier in the year, but he’s still a jock, and his prissy, perfect girlfriend isn’t much better. Eddie doesn’t have any personal issues with Robin, but Robin definitely isn’t a fan of his, not with how loud the other man is.

There isn’t any real dramatic moment that adds him to the group, at least not as dramatic as what finally solidifies the Stobin bond, but spend enough time running lines together and he sort of realizes that maybe they aren’t as bad as all that.

(Really Eddie is just there to cause chaos, and try to pass Senior English. Falling into the weirdest friend group known to Hawkins High is just a bonus.)

Honestly, I came up with this idea because I just wanted more Stobin dif first meetings, and thought the idea of Stobin having to play romantic leads opposite each other in a play was hilarious. It ended up becoming Fruity Four just because Stancy is still happening here, and Eddie was perfect for the role of Mercutio. I didn’t even have set ideas on how I want this to end shipping wise. Just wanted to get it out of my misc WIP document <3

[garwicbreb]

I'm so fucking sick of ai.

I don't want ai to write my stories for me. I don't want a robot telling me how to make a scene more emotional with stolen words it cannot feel and robbing it of its complexities with forced grammar and nonsensical musings. I don't want it to correct or rewrite anything for me.

I don't want ai to tell me information when I look something up and for it to be the first thing that's shoved in my face spouting false information. I don't want an 'overview' taking over the other pages of information written from heart and interest whether it be a small Wikipedia contribution or a whole blog from 2009 with comic sans and poorly formatted images.

I don't want it there and the very fact that it's pretty much impossible to disable, not even giving me the option of removing it is frankly quite harrowing. The very fact its there slurping up a power grid to steal website headings and make words that have no substance does nothing for my anxieties about the future of the world and don't get me started on ai 'art'. Its not surprising that these big corporate companies are so keen on it, but it doesn't make me any less angry.

[queeoretician]

Initial thoughts on The Unwanted Guest below the cut:

Well, damn. There sure is a lot going on here, and I'm all about it.

Front and centre is the concept of the permeability of the soul, and there's so damn much to chew on around that. Then we have Dulcie! Dulcie! She and Pal finally get to talk, both dead but still kicking! She would have liked Gideon! And we get more direct insight into Ianthe's psychology, which is a nasty little treat.

The first place my mind went was to Paul - if Pal and Cam were already experiencing memory transference, then maybe they saw some kind of soul merger as inevitable, and that was another push towards doing it intentionally, doing it right. But writing it down now I'm less sure of that inference. And the fact that Pal and Dulcie got to talk, really talk, was both wonderful and all the more bittersweet if (I'm assuming) Pal's and Cam's individual souls no longer exist to reunite with Dulcie in Alecto. I have to say, when I first read Nona I didn't really get why people found the birth of Paul to be so sad, but I've come around on it since then. (I should write more about that sometime...)

Regarding the permeability of Ianthe's soul, one thing that occurred to me is that her genderfuckery vibes over the past two books are probably not Ianthe Tridentarius's identity, but a new thing formed of the (imbalanced) gestalt that is Ianthe Naberius. I really hope Alecto gives us more on gender and lyctorhood and soul permeability! I imagine this is all the more jarring for Ianthe with how she's so deeply anchored to her relationship with Corona, to find her ego boundaries to be permeable in relation to Babs. I firmly believe her shell-shocked reaction to the birth of Paul was at least in part her thinking "oh shit, did I eat the wrong person?" If she had wanted this kind of erosion of self with anyone (and I'm not sure she did), it would have been Corona. Having it happen with Babs by accident is a real slap in the face.

Which brings me back to my wild theory for Alecto - Corona will (at least try to) pull a Paul with Judith, and Ianthe will utterly lose her shit. This story really underscored just how little Ianthe understands her sister, which we already saw some of in the embassy scene. Sure, Corona isn't the flawless sword hand that Babs was, but in BoE she's shown herself to be a canny operator and a decent fighter, which Ianthe is steadfastly in denial of. At the end of the day I believe the story of Ianthe will be of someone who loved without understanding, who put her love up on a pedestal and at the same time belittled her as someone both more and less than she actually was.

Another thing that I latched onto was the argument about whether lyctors' cavaliers' souls provide a truly perpetual source of energy or not. Ianthe was pretty adamant that they do, but that honestly came across as arrogance or bravado. There's a strong parallel between lyctoral power and nuclear power, and all kinds of nuclear activity eventually reach a point past which they no longer emit appreciable energy, so I feel confident in saying that lyctoral power also diminishes over a long enough timespan. I'm less sure of whether this will come up in Alecto, though - I would be quite surprised if we saw a 100,000-year timeskip (but if we did that could be super fucking interesting).

Back to more direct applications of soul permeability, I have to imagine there's been some exchange of something between Jod and Alecto, at least before he locked her in the Tomb. That could go in all kinds of interesting directions that I haven't yet had a chance to contemplate adequately.

Speaking of Alecto, the John chapters of Nona seem like a pretty clear case of transference between her and Harrow. I wonder - were those happening concurrently with the Nona chapters? If so, it would make for a nice symmetry between Harrow and Alecto/Nona.

Either way, we've got a gross messy soul transference hookup graph with Gideon<-->Harrow<-->Alecto<-->John (gross) - I'm dying to know more about what this means for each of them (especially with Tazmuir's "if Gideon's soul is a happy meal" line from this interview).

So as usual, Aaaaaaa there's so much to chew on and so much more I want to know and I can't wait for Alecto aaaaaa...

[theellipelli]

I love how springy you draw hair…I looks like if I pulled Yanqing’s hair it would sproing back! Delightful. Jing Yuan’s hair is also so fluffy…I love love love your art style! Your poses are so dynamic and lively even if the subjects are just standing around. I also really enjoy your writing (Nostalgia chill has sent me back into found family cravings I haven’t had since my time in the dsmp fandom…shivers). I wanted to ask what are some of your favorite books? Or your recent reads you enjoyed? Lastly, thank you so much for sharing your writing and your drawings, they’re so lovely and I hope you enjoy making it as much as I enjoy reading it╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

thank you for the kind words and compliments!!

ive been reading way less than id like these days, but here is a list of some books i adore!

The Locked Tomb series by Tamsyn Muir is like. the best thing ever. Harrow the Ninth is my favourite book of all time. how i wish i could read it for the first time again. the way muir writes is so dreamy and nice... she makes anything sound interesting... also nona the ninth is very much a comfort read to me. it makes me feel all warm inside. and also? shes hilarious. her narration is very funny.

Addie Larue by V. E. Scwhab is another favourite of mine! It's pretty far outside of what i usually read, but it is so full of splendour that i could not resist. i need to reread it sometime soon. schwab's writing is so soft... so gentle... and the narrative so compliments the way she narrates.

Circe by Madeline Miller is another book that i love! its sort of. what got me back into writing. it awoke something in me. i ALSO need to reread it. idk its such a simple book but it means the world to me. its gorgeous. it makes me feel gorgeous. miller makes everything sound beautiful.

i also have read the entirety of journey to the west and i cannot ignore the impact it has had on the way i write. EVERY one of my fight scenes is written like That because of journey to the west. it is the patient zero