#tormenting me here in the year 2024

[theartofknightjj]

Happy Halloween and HAPPY 10 YEARS since I drew these two for the very first time!! 🎃💚💜

I drew the first characters of Les Normaux exactly 10 years ago today during a livestream. They were just 3 sets of monster couples drawn spontaniously for fun! I could’ve never ever imagined where that night would lead me 10 years later.

It feels crazy yet poetic that so soon these two will have their own /published/ book in bookstores. What a way to celebrate 🥹✨

But ofcourse I had to also come on here and embarras myself by posting my oooold art so I could redraw them! So here are 2024, 2014 and a bonus 2017 redraw of the boys. (Will be redrawing Ronnie and Drew later dw!!)

Thank you all for loving them for this long. So excited for this next chapter in their story!! 🐰✨

[beatcroc]

listen i love these two being besties as much as anyone, but i'd like to also propose the possibly funnier alternative in which the noise Did Not Know about fake peppino before, and is very perturbed at this guy who suddenly isn't nearly as easy or fun to torment. 🔥🔥🔥2024 DISCLAIMER: this was made a whole ass year before we had playable noise do NOT come at me for blatant mischaracterization it didn't exist yet🔥🔥🔥

bonus:

hey! it's a series! fake peppino world tour: [noise]<-u are here [noisette] [peppino] [gustavo] [gerome] [noisette again]

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Linkrot

For the rest of May, my bestselling solarpunk utopian novel THE LOST CAUSE (2023) is available as a $2.99, DRM-free ebook!

Here's an underrated cognitive virtue: "object permanence" – that is, remembering how you perceived something previously. As Riley Quinn often reminds us, the left is the ideology of object permanence – to be a leftist is to hate and mistrust the CIA even when they're tormenting Trump for a brief instant, or to remember that it was once possible for a working person to support their family with their wages:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/27/six-sells/#youre-holding-it-wrong

The thing is, object permanence is hard. Life comes at you quickly. It's very hard to remember facts, and the order in which those facts arrived – it's even harder to remember how you felt about those facts in the moment.

This is where blogging comes in – for me, at least. Back in 1997, Scott Edelman – editor of Science Fiction Age – asked me to take over the back page of the magazine by writing up ten links of interest for the nascent web. I wrote that column until the spring of 2000, then, in early 2001, Mark Frauenfelder asked me to guest-edit Boing Boing, whereupon the tempo of my web-logging went daily. I kept that up on Boing Boing for more than 19 years, writing about 54,000 posts. In February, 2020, I started Pluralistic.net, my solo project, a kind of blog/newsletter, and in the four-plus years since, I've written about 1,200 editions containing between one and twelve posts each.

This gigantic corpus of everything I ever considered to be noteworthy is immensely valuable to me. The act of taking notes in public is a powerful discipline: rather than jotting cryptic notes to myself in a commonplace book, I publish those notes for strangers. This imposes a rigor on the note-taking that makes those notes far more useful to me in years to come.

Better still: public note-taking is powerfully mnemonic. The things I've taken notes on form a kind of supersaturated solution of story ideas, essay ideas, speech ideas, and more, and periodically two or more of these fragments will glom together, nucleate, and a fully-formed work will crystallize out of the solution.

Then, the fact that all these fragments are also database entries – contained in the back-end of a WordPress installation that I can run complex queries on – comes into play, letting me swiftly and reliably confirm my memories of these long-gone phenomena. Inevitably, these queries turn up material that I've totally forgotten, and these make the result even richer, like adding homemade stock to a stew to bring out a rich and complicated flavor. Better still, many of these posts have been annotated by readers with supplemental materials or vigorous objections.

I call this all "The Memex Method" and it lets me write a lot (I wrote nine books during lockdown, as I used work to distract me from anxiety – something I stumbled into through a lifetime of chronic pain management):

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/09/the-memex-method/

Back in 2013, I started a new daily Boing Boing feature: "This Day In Blogging History," wherein I would look at the archive of posts for that day one, five and ten years previously:

https://boingboing.net/2013/06/24/this-day-in-blogging-history.html

With Pluralistic, I turned this into a daily newsletter feature, now stretching back to twenty, fifteen, ten, five and one year ago. Here's today's:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/21/noway-back-machine/#retro

This is a tremendous adjunct to the Memex Method. It's a structured way to review everything I've ever thought about, in five-year increments, every single day. I liken this to working dough, where there's stuff at the edges getting dried out and crumbly, and so your fold it all back into the middle. All these old fragments naturally slip out of your thoughts and understanding, but you can revive their centrality by briefly paying attention to them for a few minutes every day.

This structured daily review is a wonderful way to maintain object permanence, reviewing your attitudes and beliefs over time. It's also a way to understand the long-forgotten origins of issues that are central to you today. Yesterday, I was reminded that I started thinking about automotive Right to Repair 15 years ago:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2009/05/right-repair-law-pro

Given that we're still fighting over this, that's some important perspective, a reminder of the likely timescales involved in more recent issues where I feel like little progress is being made.

Remember when we all got pissed off because the mustache-twirling evil CEO of Warners, David Zaslav, was shredding highly anticipated TV shows and movies prior to their release to get a tax-credit? Turns out that we started getting angry about this stuff twenty years ago, when Michael Eisner did it to Michael Moore's "Fahrenheit 911":

https://www.nytimes.com/2004/05/05/us/disney-is-blocking-distribution-of-film-that-criticizes-bush.html

It's not just object permanence: this daily spelunk through my old records is also a way to continuously and methodically sound the web for linkrot: when old links go bad. Over the past five years, I've noticed a very sharp increase in linkrot, and even worse, in the odious practice of spammers taking over my dead friends' former blogs and turning them into AI spam-farms:

https://www.wired.com/story/confessions-of-an-ai-clickbait-kingpin/

The good people at the Pew Research Center have just released a careful, quantitative study of linkrot that confirms – and exceeds – my worst suspicions about the decay of the web:

https://www.pewresearch.org/data-labs/2024/05/17/when-online-content-disappears/

The headline finding from "When Online Content Disappears" is that 38% of the web of 2013 is gone today. Wikipedia references are especially hard-hit, with 23% of news links missing and 21% of government websites gone. The majority of Wikipedia entries have at least one broken link in their reference sections. Twitter is another industrial-scale oubliette: a fifth of English tweets disappear within a matter of months; for Turkish and Arabic tweets, it's 40%.

Thankfully, someone has plugged the web's memory-hole. Since 2001, the Internet Archive's Wayback Machine has allowed web users to see captures of web-pages, tracking their changes over time. I was at the Wayback Machine's launch party, and right away, I could see its value. Today, I make extensive use of Wayback Machine captures for my "This Day In History" posts, and when I find dead links on the web.

The Wayback Machine went public in 2001, but Archive founder Brewster Kahle started scraping the web in 1996. Today's post graphic – a modified Yahoo homepage from October 17, 1996 – is the oldest Yahoo capture on the Wayback Machine:

https://web.archive.org/web/19960501000000*/yahoo.com

Remember that the next time someone tells you that we must stamp out web-scraping for one reason or another. There are plenty of ugly ways to use scraping (looking at you, Clearview AI) that we should ban, but scraping itself is very good:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/17/how-to-think-about-scraping/

And so is the Internet Archive, which makes the legal threats it faces today all the more frightening. Lawsuits brought by the Big Five publishers and Big Three labels will, if successful, snuff out the Internet Archive altogether, and with it, the Wayback Machine – the only record we have of our ephemeral internet:

https://blog.archive.org/2024/04/19/internet-archive-stands-firm-on-library-digital-rights-in-final-brief-of-hachette-v-internet-archive-lawsuit/

Libraries burn. The Internet Archive may seem like a sturdy and eternal repository for our collective object permanence about the internet, but it is very fragile, and could disappear like that.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/21/noway-back-machine/#pew-pew-pew

[lexosaurus]

Danny Phantom Side Hoes Week 2024 VOTING

They doubted our strength, our commitment. They said we were too weak, too uncertain, they said "lexx ur too into tormenting danny u could NEVER pick another side character to devote even an hour to!" and to that i say NAY! NAY TO THE NAYSAYERS! TO THE NONBELIEVERS!

Because I stand here before you right here with the FIFTH YEAR of Danny Phantom Side Hoes Week voting!

Here is your chance to tell the poll (and by extension, the tumblr phandom) who YOU want to see featured in this year's ultimate contest for the side characters in our beloved show who—as side character do—get cruelly and unjustly shoved to the sidelines time and time again!

So here me, dear phandom content enjoyer. Whether you're team vivisecc, team dissecc, or team "why do we need to gore so much why can't we just let them go to sleep for once," let's all RISE UP and VOTE for who we want to see get a whole day in the Side Hoes week dedicated just to them!

(as always, characters featured last year will not be featured this year. if a character was not on the list last year, and is also not on the voting form, DM me and let me know)

NOW GO VOTE!

[bbhfanfics]

Baekhyun Fanfics (aff)

GIF CREDIT Links in Green - Completed fanfics.

Links in Red - Incomplete/Not updated for a long time.

Links in Blue - Ongoing fanfics with regular updates.

Links in Pink - Ongoing fanfics with irregular updates.

Baekismet || Amorous Designs || Sleeping into Darkness || The Third Bride || His Plus-One Dilemma || Resonant || Ephemeral || 56% || Flirt 'n Flair || Straight To Hell || Distant Torment || There's Magic in You || Light Years || Finding Atlantis || Weeping Monsters || Crescendo || Bride of the Virtuous || Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea || The Color Red || R U Ridin'? || all the time in the world || Transit of Venus || Young & Clockwork (Sequel) || Between Day and Night || here's a fact, hating someone is exhausting || Blooming Day || Just one night || Meet Me At Sundown || CARUSO || Message in a Bottle || Nothing like us || Redamancy || Privacy || Mess We Made || Irreplaceable || 7 || Mellifluous || The Melody of His Heart || Touch It For Real || Scribble on my Skin || Strawberry Champagne on Ice || Feel it ||

Last Updated On - 15th October, 2024

[sunflowervoltwentyeight]

Happy 28th! Here is my July 2024 fic rec, organized by word count, from longest to shortest. You can view my other fic recs here. Enjoy!

Bulletproof by justahappycloud / @justahappycloud (137k)

Harry's relationship with his boyfriend — sorry, fiancé — is quite literally in shambles. More often than not, days at their flat end in repressed tears, lonesome nights on the couch, or giving his back to the man he adores more than anything in the world. The lies that come with Harry's lifestyle are tearing them apart, but there's nothing he can do about it. He can't exactly tell the love of his life that every time he goes to work, he kills under the orders of the most powerful man in England. But when the opportunity to end his torment appears, Harry ignores the danger and takes a huge risk in what has to be his most difficult mission up to date. One trip to America. That's all he needs. And after that, maybe he'll get to keep the only person that showed him light in a world where he saw none.

Beautiful War by Itsmotivatingcara / @itsmotivatingcara (103k)

Five years ago, Louis was nearly the next victim in a string of murders plaguing Portland, Oregon. He managed to escape and the Angel Killer was apprehended and sent to prison. Now, Louis' a best-selling author that assists state police with minor cases. He still suffers from the events of the days he'd been held hostage, but he's found ways to cope.

That is, until the killings start up again. A body was found in the woods. A body that bared the same signature the media had dubbed: The Angel of Death.

Special Agent Harry Styles leads the case, and he doesn't buy into the clairvoyant bullshit that Louis spewed to save face five years ago. He's certain that Louis Tomlinson was involved.

Until they meet, and they're both left questioning everything they'd thought to be true.

Or

An FBI-Clairvoyant AU

Want You More Than A by TheCellarDoor / @donotdialnine (73k)

Falling in love with your step-brother’s best friend is a disaster enough. When he happens to be the boy everyone loves and you’re a nerd who wears sweater vests and cries during rom-coms, it takes it to a whole new level.

Your Brightest Star by staybeautiful / @harruandlou (35k)

My baby,” Louis whispered into Harry’s neck, closing his eyes tightly into the embrace. Harry squeezed him closer and Louis could feel him nodding into his throat before he kissed him gently behind the ear.

“I love you,” Harry mumbled into his shoulder.

He tried to move closer, but they were already pressed together from cheek to where their ankles were tangled precariously together. “Me too, me too.”

“I’ve missed you so much,” he whispered, just for Louis’ ears. They swayed slightly, like a delicate dance to the distilled noise around them.

“Oh, darling. Sunshine.”

Or a series of timestamps from the sunshine, baby! universe 𖤓

Part 2 of you're the sun to me

Of the Earth by angelichl / @angelichl (24k)

Harry embarks on a backpacking trip in West Virginia to figure his life out after breaking up with his boyfriend. He meets Louis along the way.

Foolishly Laying Our Hearts On The Table by runaway_train @runawaytrain (11k)

“You think Harry wants that?”

“Dunno. Maybe. Wanna make him happy.” Harry takes advantage of the red light he’s pulled up to turn and look properly at Louis’ face. He’s not even looking in Harry’s direction though, focused instead on something out of his side window, head drooped, mindlessly playing with the string of his hoodie between his fingers, lost in his own world somewhere. For some reason, it makes Harry’s spine straighten. 

“Because he’s your best mate?” Harry questions carefully. 

“He’s my boyfriend.”

He couldn’t have heard him right. “What?”

Louis releases a deep breath, still not turning around. Harry wonders who he thinks he’s talking to right now. “He’s so pretty. Want to kiss him all day long. And buy him a big house and give him presents and marry him.”

Or

The one where Harry is in love with his best friend Louis but doesn't think he stands a chance until some wisdom teeth and a rather unusual confession might just change his mind.

Congratulations, Mr. President by OneSweetWorld18 (Katbrown88) / @onesweetworld18 (2k)

Louis holds his first meeting as PTA President at the Boo Hoo Breakfast on the first day of school. Harry is a supportive husband, and Niall is supportive, as always.

I'll Be Yours Forever ('Til Forever Falls Apart) by callmelover / @whenyoucallmelover (1k)

“You're just so intricate and beautiful. I want to know every part of you. I guess I can't help it.” The blush that warms Harry’s cheeks is more beautiful than any part of himself, Louis wants to argue. He knows Harry wouldn’t let him win, though, so the rebuttal fades from between his lips.

“Well it's a good thing that I think you are just as worthy of being explored, then.”

⚘

or, the one where louis and harry are so in love that love doesn't feel like a big enough word (ft. morning cuddles and just a little bit of kissing)

[butchsophiewalten]

Twitter Space Recap July 28th 2024

Last Sunday Martin, Eva, Kyle did a Twitter Space, with intermittent appearances from Coral! Here are some of the Q&A answers and other interesting things they talked about:

-Someone asks if TWF5 is going to be longer or shorter than TWF4, and Martin says that he currently predicts it to be "a bit longer".

-Somebody asks how Laura Peony (Rosemary's sister) looks. He says that she looks similar to Rose, probably, but that he honestly doesn't have much of a design in mind for her. Something fun to me is that he calls her "Sophie's aunt", rather than calling her Rosemary's sister, which is interesting when remembering one of Martin's previous statements that Rosemary doesn't have a very good relationship with her family.

-Someone asks about something Martin said in a Q&A a while ago, about Jenny going through many redesigns before her current and final design, and if we could see any of them. Eva ends up sharing one of Martin's old drawings of one of these designs, even though Martin says that he really hates it.

He mentions that she looks "too normal" and that she "looks like she's straight."

-Someone asks, "Who or what was the thing behind Bon and Sha in the TV in TWF2?" and Martin answers that it's Susan. (slowed gif relevant)

-Someone asks about how the Relocate Project trio all met each other, and Martin explains how in his original vision for the characters, they were this really close and inseparable group of long-time friends, but that he's recently kinda revised that idea, thinking it'd be more realistic if they were just work friends, who met each other through their jobs and all had full, separate lives and maybe weren't so inseparably close.

-Someone asks how old Kevin is in TWF2, and Martin explains that the relocate trio's ages are something that he's kinda retconned. He brings up an old image of Ashley that gets passed around by the fanbase sometimes which says she'd be 19 years old in 1978, saying that in his mind now, she'd be 22 at the time. He says "-and there's a reason for this, there's a reason for this. There are things about, uh, Ashley, and some things about the rest of the episode 2 crew that we haven't seen yet."

-Martin and Eva joke back and forth about an idea they both like, which is that Bon can create or mimic noises with his animatronic voice box, and that he likes to do stuff like bark and people in K-9, just to freak them out. Martin says, "Wait, did you know that this actually happens, in one of the episodes? In episode 2, Bon fucking plays rabbit noises, to mess with Ashley. When the lights go out, Bon-- he's imitating a rabbit."

-Martin says, "Somebody asked if the baby doll we see in Souvenir and TWF4 will have meaning in the future. Ah, yes it will."

-Someone asks, "Are we gonna get wholesome Rosemary content in the upcoming episodes?" and Martin and the rest of the crew shoot the shit for awhile, alluding ironically to the torment (emotional and otherwise) she will almost certainly be met with in the upcoming episode.

-Martin mentions that he's working on something related to TWF7, and says, "I genuinely think that episode 7 is going to be the most hated episode of The Walten Files ever. I've talked about this with Eva before." Martin and Eva refer to it sneakily as the "yuri" episode, and we know from previous Q&As and spaces that TWF7 is most likely going to be about Sophie and Jenny's relationship, possibly detailing how they met. Martin says, "I think- it's not because of what is in it [that it will be hated], it's more like, it's the least 'Walten Files' episode of The Walten Files."

Kyle says, "To be fair, I feel like season 2 is going to be such a tone shift and it's gonna do so much, that it's gonna be like, "Woah!" You're gonna send people back, like, 20 feet in surprise."

-Somebody asks if Jack is addicted to smoking, and if Felix gets on his ass about it. Martin says "I don't think Jack is addicted, I think Jack just smokes because he thinks smoking is cool. I wouldn't say addicted, but I'd say Rosemary smokes out of like, a place of, like, stress and anxiety. Instead of just as a hobby, in a way."

-Someone asks if Susan is skinny. Martin says, "I don't think Susan is very skinny, I would say Susan is more--" and Eva fills in with "Muscular..?" to which Martin replies, "Yeah, I was gonna say that, I couldn't find the right word. Yeah, considering she usually helps build the stuff, and shit like that, while Charles sits on his ass and stays on his computer all day, like a fucking lazy bitch. Just programming shit."

-Martin openly laments that Charles doesn't have more of a fanbase for him as in individual character. He goes, "Do I have to wait for the next two episodes to drop, so I can fucking have a Charles fandom? That's so sad."

-According to Kyle, Charles' favorite Sonic the Hedgehog character would be Knuckles. Martin says he doesn't know a lot about Sonic, but that Jack's favorite character would be Doctor Eggman, because he's the only human character.

-Martin and Eva talk for a bit about who would win in a fight between Bon and a bunch of different animatronic characters from Five Nights at Freddy's, with him losing terribly to most or all of them. Eva determines that he could definitely win against normal human William Afton, and Martin says he could, at least, probably win against The Puppet. Martin says, "Y'know how dogs grab, like, a toy? And shake it around? Bon just fucking bites-- and starts fucking shaking the animatronics around."

-Somebody asks, "Do Brian and Kevin know each other?" and Martin says, "No, they don't. I don't think Brian knows anybody from the rest of the series. Why would he?"

-Martin says, "I like to think- in the apartment [Jenny and Sophie] live in- It's really funny to me, the idea that Jenny knows everybody in the building and is friends with everybody, and Sophie isn't. Like, it's like, imagine in everyone else's perspective, its like 'Ohh, there's Jenny!', and she's like this really sweet person, and then there's just Sophie, this fucking-- this silent, weird girl that's always seen next to Jenny."

-Martin asks Eva, "What to you think of episode 7?" to which she replies, "It's very yuriful." He responds saying, "That's true." Eva later appends saying, "It's also a very good episode."

-Someone asks, "Will there be a Walten Files 5 & 6 trailer soon?" and Martin replies, "I have an idea for a trailer, but I know know if it's necessary, considering I don't want to show what happens in the episodes. I want people to go in completely blind."

-Eva reads a question that she likes, but is worried is too spoilery. "What's Sophie's relationship with her medication? Does she resent having to take it? Does Jenny know that she's on it?" Martin responds, "We cannot answer that. Because the medication Sophie's on will be expanded on." appends later going "I love how my original idea for Sophie's pills was like, it was never addressed it any way. It was just like, 'oh, she's just taking pills.'"

-Somebody asks about Hidie the Raccoon from the Showstoppers Cartoon, and Martin says that he's a burglar who pretends to be a collector for charity, but just steals the money.

-Someone asks about Madness Meridian. Martin says, "It was a book that was like, a more realistic version of The Walten Files. And it was like, 'what if The Walten Files was, like, completely made up by Sophie?', and it was like, it was really bad. And I remember I worked a lot in the book, but I lost it on an old computer, so."

-Someone asks if we're ever going to see the Showstoppers singing for real, instead of just performing over a preexisting song, and Martin says yes!

-Someone asks about the Findjackwalten page that was recently discovered, /jennyslair-dot-com-worldwideweb, which is currently password protected. Martin says that it will be a page soon, so the page's content is probably not currently meant to be accessed.

[gacha-incels]

archive link - a victim of the Seoul National University men’s “deepfake porn” chatrooms posted about here previously shares her statement to the court. this article is originally in english, coming from the Hankyoreh english version news site

plain text:

An SNU graduate victimized by malicious, sexually explicit deepfakes of her made by classmates appeals to the court to hold those responsible for the torment of her and women like her for the pain they have inflicted

In a Telegram channel with around 1,300 members, there are individual chat rooms for 70 colleges and universities across the country. The bolded text are names of universities. (captures from Telegram)

“We’re not whores or sluts; we don’t exist to satisfy somebody’s sexual urges. We’re dignified human beings, each with our own careers and dreams.”

That’s part of the statement that Ruma (a pseudonym) intends to submit to a Korean court. Ruma is one of several graduates of Seoul National University whose faces appeared on sexually explicit deepfakes that were produced and distributed by men they had studied with at university.

In July 2021, Ruma was sent pornographic deepfakes displaying her face by an anonymous individual on Telegram. In May 2024, three years after Ruma first learned about the crime, two perpetrators, both graduates of her university, were arrested. The perpetrators are currently on trial, charged with violating the Act on Special Cases Concerning the Punishment of Sexual Crimes.

Ruma first reported the crime to the police in July 2021, but for nearly two years, four separate police stations that looked into the case were unable to catch the perpetrators.

Nevertheless, Ruma didn’t give up. Instead, she teamed up with other victims to track down the criminals. “I was just hoping that nobody else would have to deal with this kind of pain,” she explained.

There have been several reports about the illegal distribution of pornographic deepfakes in certain university communities. The typical pattern of behavior goes like this: Pornographic deepfakes are created using photographs of “friends” or “acquaintances” at school or in the community, distributed on Telegram and shared with the victims as a form of bullying.

These victims are not to blame for what are obviously sex crimes. Nevertheless, they often feel unable to talk about the grievous harm they have suffered from people they know from their schools, jobs and local communities.

There seems to be a lack of awareness in Korean society about the pain suffered by individuals whose photographs have been manipulated to create these sexually explicit images. That is why we are sharing with our readers the statement that Ruma will be submitting to the Seoul Central District Court.   Ruma’s statement to the court

Your Honors,

First of all, I would like to express my sincere gratitude for allowing me to share my story as a victim before the court. While preparing my statement, I reflected on the three years and one month that have passed from the time I was first harmed until the present.

That was when dozens of pornographic images digitally altered to include my face and videos of men masturbating to them were dropped in my lap by an anonymous account, when I saw multiple perpetrators insulting and mocking me in a chatroom where my photographs and personal information had been shared, and when, not long after that, I came to realize that all this had been perpetrated by people I’d studied with at university.

It turned out that while I’d been working on my doctorate overseas with the hope of shedding light on the lives and language of the underprivileged and helping to improve our schools and other institutions, my own university acquaintances had been calling me a “cum bucket,” “whore” and “slave” behind my back. Confronted with that fact, the world I thought I’d known came crashing down around me.

It was a nightmare having to face people whenever I woke up in the morning. For the first time since I was born, I found myself thinking I didn’t want to live in this world any longer. There’s a single reason I have nevertheless persevered in tracking down these criminals and bringing them to justice: Nobody should have to suffer as I have. Nobody should be objectified simply for being a woman. And nobody should be treated as a tool for soothing the inferiority complex of people such as the defendants in this case.

We’re not whores or sluts; we don’t exist to satisfy somebody’s sexual urges. We’re dignified human beings, each with our own careers and dreams. We must no longer remain silent when people, having forgotten those facts, eagerly commit wicked crimes that they attempt to justify by being online, in the arrogant assumption they will not be caught, and with contempt for the judicial system. We must not condone such people because they undermine trust in our society and devastate the lives of their victims.

Your Honors, if I may speak as the individual who has suffered more than anyone else because of this incident, undoing that harm could take years — indeed, it may take the rest of my life. My personal information and photographs, along with the deepfakes based on them, have already been distributed to any number of random people, and I’ve been suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder for more than three years now. In addition, I’ll have to spend the rest of my life in fear and anxiety that numerous people who were involved in the crime but have not been apprehended may still be out there somewhere, still making use of the deepfakes of me.

For those reasons, it is urgent that these two defendants serve a prison sentence that fits their crime and that measures be taken to ensure that even after their release, they will live responsibly without harming other people. That’s the only way I will be able to regain faith in society and recover the strength to go on living. Your Honors, the judgment you render will be the first critical step in that process of recovery.

In consideration of the immense harm this incident has caused me and the dozens of other victims, the many people in our circles of friends and family members, and beyond that, our society as a whole, I earnestly petition you to give the defendants the most severe punishment available, without any clemency.

By Park Hyun-jung, staff reporter

[murciafire]

Lady Lazarus

Jason Todd Angst

Summary: “You don’t get to die and be reborn the same. You come back, but you come back wrong. This is the price you pay for resurrection” – Nathaniel Orion

Warnings: angst, the poem is about Plath's attempts but nothing explicit

Words: >1000

Notes: The thought of Jason dying and then being resurrected often led me to think of “Lady Lazarus” by Sylvia Plath. I find that it’s even more appropriate considering that Jason’s died twice now (1988, 2024 – please let me know if I have it wrong). Since we all know that Jason reads classics, I felt that his thoughts might as well be as dramatic and poetic as seen in classic lit.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

I have done it again.

There was a chipped tile in the corner of the wall where it met the smooth surface of the bathtub. My eyes would always catch it on the days I found myself lying in the bathtub, but it was so indiscernible that I didn’t think anyone else would remark it. (Not that I would care if anyone did, nor did anyone visit me, nor did I want anyone to). It was like a scar hidden under a chin that wouldn’t be evident until you tilted your face to where God should be (but perhaps in His absence, you could stare at the sun and the rays would make the sliver of cut skin silver, brilliant and hideous).

But such a break, where it was so insignificant, would bother no one unless you knew where to look for such fractures. And I, being that I am, often find myself wandering in an agonizing game of self-loathing where I’m drawn to discovering broken things like me. Which is why I think—and when I do think these thoughts, they’re often coupled with a heaving dry chuckle—I must cover the bathroom mirror. This game, or perhaps self-torment, is one that I often lose even when I win.

I put out my cigarette on the side of the tub—I had forgotten I had lit it. My nerves were so frayed that I didn’t think nicotine could absolve me any more than drowning myself in this bathtub hoping that a self-made baptism could bring me any closer to my father. I sighed, closing my eyes while dropping the crumpled cigarette on the floor beside me. My heart beat steadily in my chest, but I was already limp like I had given up. I felt a smile curl my lips into something cruel because here I was, in rose water which I wasn’t holy enough for, but damned enough that I was swimming in my own blood.

The bathroom, I thought, was a state of purgatory where all my thoughts merged into a state of expiatory purification.  Because I was alive and somehow—“One year in every ten I manage it—”

I groaned as my bones creaked and my muscles strained as I leaned over to pull the stopper. My eyes fixated on the swirling water, taking my blood with it. I blinked a few times, looking at my hands, no longer stained but very still. As if silence was a word to describe a motion—I wasn’t sure I was breathing. But I was.

And again I find myself moving, peeling myself off the floor of the tub, stepping over the edge. A sort of walking miracle, my skin bright as a Nazi lampshade, my right foot a paperweight.

I stood in front of the mirror and in my hesitancy, I found some courage, or as if reality took form and guided my hand to rip off the towel I hung over it, so I had to face what I saw in that tile: something broken. My face a featureless, fine Jew linen.

Peel off the napkin, O my enemy. Do I terrify?—

The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth? The sour breath will vanish in a day. Soon, soon the flesh the grave cave ate will be at home on me.

I smiled, my laugh hollow as I wiped my face, continuing to recite Plath. “And I a smiling woman. I am only thirty and like the cat, I have nine times to die.”

I tossed the towel onto a hook on the wall before gripping the sink to stare at myself. “This is Number Three. What a trash to annihilate each decade. What a million filaments. The peanut-crunching crowd shoves in to see them unwrap me hand and foot—the big strip tease. Gentlemen, ladies—” I pushed off the sink, throwing my hands over my face. “These are my hands. My knees. I may be skin and bone, nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman.”

I slid down to my knees, my chest heaving. “The first time it happened I was ten. It was an accident. The second time I meant to last it out and not come back at all. I rocked shut as a seashell. They had to call and call and pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.”

I shut my eyes, feeling my body crumple to the floor and curl into itself. Silence, I decided, was a word to describe action. Because here I was, living silently.

“Dying,” I whispered, “is an art, like everything else. I do it exceptionally well. I do it so it feels like hell. I do it so it feels real. I guess you could say I’ve a call.”

 

I rubbed my arm with my hand, my fingers brushing over scars—new and old. My body was littered with wounds, but no one could ever see the scar under my chin. Or perhaps, the one I wanted most to notice was the crack in my heart that shattered my soul.

“It’s easy enough to do it in a cell,” I muttered. “It’s easy enough to do it and stay put. It’s the theatrical. Comeback in broad day to the same place, the same face, the same brute amused shout: ‘A miracle!’”

I laughed or cried; I wasn’t sure. But air came out of my lungs and clawed at my throat to make some sort of sound so I knew I was still here, lying on the bathroom floor very much still alive. But it’s a miracle that I am, isn’t it?  That knocks me out.

There is charge. For the eyeing of my scars, there is a charge. For the hearing of my heart—

It really goes.

And there is a charge, a very large charge for a word or a touch or a bit of blood or a piece of my hair or my clothes.   So, so, Herr Doktor. So, Herr Enemy.

I am your opus, I am your valuable, the pure gold baby that melts to a shriek. I turn and burn. Do not think I underestimate your great concern.

Ash, ash—

You poke and stir. Flesh, bone, there is nothing there—

A cake of soap, a wedding ring, a gold filling.

Herr God, Herr Lucifer  

Beware

Beware.

Out of the ash I rise with my red hair and I eat men like air.

[shes-some-other-where]

Rain and Apple Blossoms

[ID: a banner featuring bright red apples, prison bars, and medieval looking text of the story's title, Rain and Apple Blossoms. End ID.]

A nameless convict suffers in a prison camp, sentenced to years of hard labour for his crime. There, he is tormented by cruel guards and an even crueller chief overseer who seems to enjoy humiliating him. Eventually, he escapes, and he finds himself cared for by a kind stranger who is on her own journey of grief and self-discovery. With soldiers still hunting for the fugitive, every moment he spends in his unlikely caretaker's company is a risk to them both.

Heavier on whump than plot. Heavier on hurt than comfort. But it's all there.

Full list of CWs at the bottom of this post.

Written for The Merry Whump of May 2024. All drabbles, exactly 100 words. All connected, but many can be read as standalone pieces. However, if you want to read it as a full "narrative," the suggested reading order is below. (Alternatively, find the list of prompts in event order here.)

Suggested Reading Order

🌫️ The Camp

Day 9 - “You’re nothing.”

Day 27 - C for “convict”

Day 8 - A proud, arrogant fool.

Day 2 - Snake venom and molten sand

Day 2 - “Don’t you dare.”

Day 7 - “Forget about them.”

Day 10 - “I don’t have regrets.”

Day 11 - “Pretty little thing.”

Day 12 - “Let me hear you.”

Day 3 - “See what happens.”

Day 14 - “Leave him alone.”

Day 16 - Your neverending insolence

Day 16 - Twenty-nine and one

Day 16 - “Naïve fool.”

Day 1 - Swallowed by the dark

Day 28 - The indistinct phantoms of nightmares

Day 14/23 - Deserving sinners

Day 5 - The chance to flee

Day 6 - Disobedient dogs who try to run

Day 13 - “To know you'll only fail again.”

Day 8 - “I’m fine.”

🌫️ The Escape

Day 13 - Leave no trail.

Day 7 - The world beyond

Day 6 - A sombre dawn

Day 15 - A fool, a dead man

🌫️ The Cellar

Day 4 - “Who are you?”

Day 15 - “Let me help you.”

Day 17 - “Wait, are you afraid of me?”

Day 24 - “Lean on me.”

Day 23 - Cursed, hunted, condemned

Day 27 - “You’re trembling.”

Day 12 - “I’m dangerous.”

Day 17 - “You’re not a prisoner here.”

Alt Prompt - “No one knows you’re here.”

Day 15 - Her foolhardy selflessness

Day 25 - “Is that wise?”

Day 24 - “Just forget about me.”

Day 30 - “I think you might be a good man.”

Day 29 - “Just another few days.”

Day 15 - Endless pools of sorrow

Day 20 - “Are you alone here?”

Day 24 - “What’s with all the apples?”

Day 13 - “I just wish I could repay you.”

Day 28 - “You've found your smile again.”

Day 25 - “I’ve always loved the rain.”

Day 2 - “What are you doing in my house?”

Day 1 - “What were you thinking?”

Day 18 - “Why do you love him?”

Day 11 - “An arrangement, and nothing more.”

Day 6 - “He would never hurt me.”

🌫️ The Recapture

Day 18 - “Nowhere to run, crook.”

Day 19 - “Rot in hell.”

Alt prompt - “It was her.”

Day 4 - He with no future

Day 20 - “Don’t tell me you forgot about me.”

Day 22 - “It’s been too long.”

Day 22 - A death sentence disguised as mercy.

Day 31 - “Enjoy your last night here.”

Day 31 - “Now you’re a broken man.”

Day 28 - “Hope you enjoyed the last taste of freedom you'll ever have.”

🌫️ The Pits

Day 29 - “You ought to be grovelling at my feet.”

Day 26 - A shambling spectre that once was a man

Day 21 - Leashed, muzzled, and ordered around like a beast

Day 3 - Half-lives in the dust

Day 30 - A creature soft, yet wild

Day 25 - “I’ll always love the rain.”

🌫️ A Free Man

Day 1 - Retribution well-deserved

Day 29 - “You are free.”

Day 29 - Charcoal and silver

Day 26 - Fading stars and blooming sun

Alt prompt - Rain and apple blossoms

Full List of Content Warnings

pain, angst, prison, prison camp, labour camp, forced labour, chains, blood, restraints, cruel law enforcement, branding, taunting, humiliation, physical violence, beatings, very brief minor whump, whipping/flogging, gag/muzzle, exhaustion, thirst/dehydration, mine collapse, minor character death, death mention, failed escape, torture, barbed wire, exposure, guilt, fear, grief, loneliness, prospect of a loveless marriage, betrayal, recapture

[hd-wireless]

📻🎶 H/D WIRELESS 2024 - WEEKLY WRAP-UP #4

🎤 Can you believe we’ve had four weeks of amazing creations already? We certainly can’t! We hope you’re enjoying the works inspired by music that hit just the right tone to make them into unique drarry fics, art, and podfics.

There are enough works for us to post for one last week of glorious Drarry goodness, so buckle up for the final countdown! 🎶

As always you can listen to the prompted songs for the works we post on two playlists:

Click here for Spotify (many thanks to @evaeleanor for helping us out there) ❤️ And here for the YouTube playlist.

🎶 H/D Wireless Art 🎶

📻 The Shape I found you in [Not Rated, Digital art]

🎵 Song Prompt: 'The Shape I found you in' by 'Girlyman'  🎵 Summary: But your heart was busy within,  Building bomb shelters under your skin.  That's the shape I found you in

🎶 H/D Wireless Fic and Art 🎶

📻 Thunder [E, 11,325, digital]

🎵 Song Prompt: "Dreams" by Fleetwood Mac  🎵 Summary: Harry and Ginny are on a break. Harry and Ginny don’t want anyone to know. Harry assumes Ginny is fucking their way through their Quidditch team. Harry punches Draco Malfoy in the face in his free time. Harry considers this a perfectly reasonable coping mechanism. Harry figures that as long as he keeps everything the way that it is, that everything will stay the same, and nothing bad will happen, and Ginny will stay with him, and Malfoy will keep quietly visiting his dreams.

🎶 H/D Wireless Fic 🎶

📻 crawlin' helpless on the floor [M, 1,525]

🎵 Song Prompt: Cure For Pain by Morphine  🎵 Summary: It doesn't take much to torment a man when he's three broken contracts away from being out of a job and down a newspaper.

📻 Hell is the talkin' type [E, 7,309]

🎵 Song Prompt: Dinner and Diatribes by Hozier  🎵 Summary: “Morgana, I need a drink,” Draco sighs. “Why did I let you convince me to participate in this torture again?”  Harry chuckles. “Because I’m your husband, and you love me?” he offers.  “Bah. Remind me not to let myself be so sentimental next time.”

📻 Mr Blue Sky [E, 69,024]

🎵 Song Prompt: ‘Mr. Blue Sky’ by ‘Electric Light Orchestra’  🎵 Summary: Mr Blue Sky, please tell us why, you had to hide away for so long...   After five years, Malfoy had finally escaped house arrest, and he moved in just a few streets down from Grimmauld Place. Overnight, the Daily Prophet seemed to fall in love with him. For his charity work, and his charming smile, and—Harry was sure—his prattish fucking personality. No matter how hard Harry tried, he couldn't stop running into him.  He had bigger problems, though. His best friends in the world were having a baby together, which was fantastic, except that they weren't sure he could hold it together well enough to be Godfather.  But despite being flat broke, with a dead dad, and no one willing to risk hiring him, Malfoy appeared to be completely in control of the narrative surrounding his newfound freedom. Maybe Harry could learn a thing or two from the best of the best.  After all, he had the entire pregnancy to convince Ron and Hermione he was perfectly, entirely, 100% fine. If sometimes he had to fistfight Malfoy about it, well, that was nothing new.

📻 'tis the damn season [M, 2,892]

🎵 Song Prompt: 'tis the damn season by Taylor Swift  🎵 Summary: He doesn’t know why the universe seems to keep placing him in Potter’s proximity every time he returns to London. He doesn’t know how they keep falling into bed, every year, like clockwork.  Draco has tried not to question it.

📻 Tecum Ad Astra [M, 3,257]

🎵 Song Prompt: Levitating by Dua Lipa  🎵 Summary: It's Friday night and Harry Potter is relaxing with a good book in front of a crackling fire.  But he should be at the club.

📻 Music to my ears [E, 13,190]

🎵 Song Prompt: River flows in You, Yiruma  🎵 Summary: Harry is completely captivated by the beautiful music played on a street piano at a park in Cambridge. He is, however, unprepared for whom the pianist turns out to be.

📻 Pancakes for Dinner [T, 2,176]

🎵 Song Prompt: Pancakes for Dinner by Lizzie McAlpine  🎵 Summary: Draco’s on a trip to visit Harry in his new city at his new job. He’s not brave enough to say how he really feels.

📻 Seasons [E, 9,314]

🎵 Song Prompt: Águas de Março (Waters of March) by Antônio Carlos Jobim  🎵 Summary: Seconds pass, and it’s like he can see Draco worrying the sliver of glass in his heart, looking for a way to press it out, to expose the wound to the sun. It’s life; Harry can be patient.

[bookwormangie]

Lily is absolutely flirting in Snape’s Worst Memory - but I think this is one scene that has dated the series and is easily overlooked if the reader is not a Brit of a certain age. Lily and James are bantering in that scene in the way that Beatrice and Benedick do in Much Ado About Nothing or the way that Elizabeth and Darcy have crazy sexual tension while she’s telling him that she hates him and that he’s the last person on earth she’d ever marry.

People don’t see it now because James’ approach has so many red flags that are widely acknowledged as red flags in 2024 that they see Lily’s responses as genuine disgust and dislike, instead of her getting drawn into his game because she’s interested. But it was obvious in 2003 what JKR was going for here. The implication is that Snape lashes out at her *because* he sees her half smile and her flirtatiousness in this moment, and properly realises for the first time that his ‘best friend’ is totally into the guy tormenting him in front of half the school.

None of this is to say that Lily wasn’t a) completely right to terminate the friendship and b) wasn’t overall a very decent person. But she’s supposed to be a pretty shit friend here - put any one of the trio in Lily’s shoes and imagine their response to the same situation and it becomes clear that her half assed, rather impersonal defence was indeed intended to be half assed. Now of course this is directed by JKR needing to keep the connection between Snape and Lily secret until the very end, but she makes this work retrospectively from a characterisation perspective in the Prince’s Tale by depicting a Snape who is difficult to be friends with and who doesn’t recognise what true friendship *should* be because he’s never had it, and a humanised (not a saint) Lily who’s been quietly realigning herself away from her difficult friend for a very long time without making it crystal clear to him what she’s doing. It doesn’t make her bad, it makes her a very normal 15 year old pretty, popular girl with all the positive traits that entails (confidence, vivaciousness, fearlessness) as well as the negative (thoughtlessness, a lack of empathy towards those less socially adept).

Thank you for your message, anon. 

I understand where you’re coming from, and while some people interpret the scene as flirting or as "laying the groundwork for their eventual romance," especially when viewed through the lens of classical literature and 'enemies to lovers' tropes, I see it differently. For me, attraction doesn’t automatically equal flirting. I do recognize subtle cues in Lily’s behavior that suggest she might be physically attracted to James, and yes, there’s some tension, but I wouldn’t categorize that as flirting. To me, flirting is intentional—a deliberate way to say, "Hey, I’m interested in you; let’s date.” That’s not what’s happening here. While Lily may have had some attraction to James, her intention certainly wasn’t to express that to him, particularly because his bullying and arrogance were significant turn-offs. This is consistent with the fact that she only began dating James in their seventh year when he supposedly "deflated" his ego and stopped bullying others. She valued the growth she saw in him, which made him someone she could consider dating at that point. (Whether he genuinely matured is another discussion, but I won’t delve into that here.)

I don’t deny that Lily’s conflicting feelings toward James might have influenced her defense of Snape to some extent, but to call her defense completely “half-assed" because she was supposedly “flirting” with James seems like a stretch. (Honestly, I’m considering posting the whole scene because it feels like people may have forgotten what actually happened or have only skimmed it.)

From an external perspective, Lily’s defense might appear somewhat weak or insufficient, especially given the severity of the situation. However, it's crucial to understand that this perception does not fully capture the complexity of Lily’s internal experience. Lily’s primary goal was to stop the bullying by publicly insulting and embarrassing James. She’s clearly trying to de-escalate the situation by first shouting at them, and when that doesn’t work, she takes out her wand, ready to escalate things if necessary. While it may not have been the most forceful defense, it was still a defense, and it clearly demonstrated her disapproval of their behavior. Initially, it even seemed effective, as James did perform the countercurse to the full body-bind curse. However, after Snape called Lily a Mudblood, she left, and James and Sirius resumed bullying him.

From an internal perspective, in my view, the primary factor influencing Lily’s defense was the state of her deteriorating friendship with Snape. As I’ve mentioned in previous posts and reblogs, their friendship was strained, and she likely had conflicting feelings about him. As you pointed out, she was gradually distancing herself from him due to his behavior. After years of standing by Snape, excusing his actions, and pretending everything was fine, Lily likely felt frustrated and betrayed. She was torn between her past loyalty to him and her current disapproval, making it challenging for her to respond more forcefully. While I do wish she’d done more (and she certainly could have), her feelings are understandable given everything that had transpired between them.

Regarding the notion that Snape noticed any "flirting," I respectfully disagree. Snape didn’t lash out at Lily because he saw her "flirting" with James or noticed any subtle expression. His focus was on defending himself from Sirius and James. Additionally, he wouldn’t have seen her expression since his robes were hanging over his head while he was suspended upside down:

"James whirled about; a second flash of light later, Snape was hanging upside down in the air, his robes falling over his head to reveal skinny, pallid legs and a pair of graying underpants."

The more likely reason for his outburst was that he felt humiliated and emasculated by James, especially when James said, "Lucky Evans was here Snivellus —,” as he let Snape down. That likely exacerbated Snape’s embarrassment, leading him to lash out with, "I don’t need help from a filthy little Mudblood like her." It seems like he was trying to regain some dignity, and the slur slipped out in a moment of anger and shame.

All in all, you’re right—Lily isn’t a saint; no one is. And while I’m not eager to compliment JKR the TERF, I do think she did a good job of humanizing her characters. Lily isn’t as fleshed out compared to other minor characters like James, and I do wish we’d seen more of her flaws. That said, her response to the situation, while somewhat imperfect, reflects the complexities of her character, which makes her more relatable and human.

While we may not completely agree, I appreciate your interpretation and opinion, anon. Thank you for sharing your perspective. 💫

*As a side note, I want to clarify that I’m not trying to excuse Lily for not defending Snape more effectively; I’m simply trying to view the situation from her perspective, as I do with other characters when analyzing them. Additionally, I want to emphasize that I’m not hating on Snape. Some people have taken my posts and reblogs about Lily as an excuse to criticize Snape, but that’s not my intention at all. I clearly identify as a "Snape defender" in my bio. Just because I’m exploring Lily’s perspective in SWM doesn’t mean I don’t also understand Snape’s situation. I have other posts dedicated to him on my blog.

[sisterprocrastinator]

MUSHY MAY 2024 bonus prompt: Reminiscing

Dewdrop ghoul x Aeon/Phantom ghoul

2.6k words

NSFW

Slightly possessive Aeon

Angst and grief

Dewdrop is grieving Aether and he's woken up feeling sad. He finds solace in Aeon's arms. Sweet, healing smut ensues.

Thanks once again to @forlorn-crows for organising Mushy May 🖤

Also many thanks to @ghuleh-recs for the dividers 🖤

Read below or here on AO3

Here is the link to my other Mushy May 2024 ficlets

🖤 Reblogs are very much appreciated, please and thank you 🖤

Enjoy!

“What’s wrong?” Aeon asked.

Dew shivered. The feel of the other ghoul’s hot breath on the back of his neck sent delicious chills down his spine. He snuggled further back, pressing himself against him, needing to feel as much skin against his own as he could manage to.

“I was just thinking. About Aether. I miss him so much.”

Aeon touched his lips to the nape of Dew's neck and held him tighter. His palms skimmed along the skin of his torso and Dew sighed sadly.

This happened sometimes, out of the blue. He’d hear a song or smell a scent or see something that would remind him of his lost pack mate and the blues would set in. He couldn’t say what it had been this time. A dream perhaps? Dew had just woken up in the furs with that profound feeling of loss. The grief that he’d just about learned to live with had managed to claw its way back up from the depths.

“What do you need from me?” Aeon murmured against his skin.

He hadn’t tried to send him any of his quintessential magic to soothe him. He knew that when Dew felt like this, that would be the last thing he wanted.

Dew blinked, feeling a tear escape his eye when he thought of the other ghoul.

The pack were in their den and he and Aeon lay curled up together in a nest of furs on the mezzanine level. The rest of them were downstairs in the main living area.

Dew had woken up countless times over the years in this familiar position, spooning on Aether's bed, or in his own and he tried to blink away the tears that welled up when he thought about it.

Aether had been a different build to Aeon - bigger, bulkier. Darker eyes. He’d always been quick to smile, finding joy and humour in almost every situation and seeing the good in everyone. The position that Dew and Aeon were currently in was both comforting to him and achingly familiar. 

Aether had always been a gentle soul, but vibrant. He'd shied away from the uglier sides of life. He had probably been the most selfless ghoul that Dew had ever come across, always there for anyone who needed him – even when they didn’t – and he happily gave all of himself without ever expecting anything in return.

All of the pack had loved him and when he’d been taken from them, it had ripped the very soul from their little family for a time.

Dew sometimes felt guilty for missing Aether when he had Aeon here with him though. In a way, his death had been a final act of selflessness. Without it, the pack wouldn’t have gained Aeon. Dew wouldn’t have found him.

He closed his eyes, exhaling a shaky breath.

“I don’t know,” he said quietly, mindful that the others were asleep downstairs. He turned himself towards Aeon, meeting his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

His brow creased and he huffed.

“Stop tormenting yourself. It’s no use thinking like that. You are allowed to miss him. You are allowed to feel sadness without guilt.”

Of course, Aeon would be able to feel everything he was experiencing right then. Dew couldn’t hide anything from him anymore.

Aeon kissed Dew’s forehead and used the pad of his thumb to wipe away another tear.

“I wish he was still here. But if he was, then I’d never have met you.”

Aeon smiled at him, cupping his cheek. Dew leaned into it, nuzzling his face into his hand.

“Don’t think that way. Remember him and love me. You can do both. It is what it is now. It isn’t going to change. You should never feel guilty about wanting him back. It does not mean that you are wishing away our life together.”

Dew whined, his heart aching. Aeon held his gaze and Dew tried to concentrate on the lines of dark blue that speckled his eyes. They were beautiful and he would never tire of looking at them. The irises were a bright purple and broken up by those darker blue swirls that often seemed to move around as he watched them. They were unusual eyes, even as far as quintessence ghouls went.

The two of them lay there for a while, studying one another. Aeon patiently wiped away the odd tear, sometimes kissing them softly and the ache that Dew felt in his heart for his lost pack brother slowly subsided once again.

He reached over and ran his thumb along Aeon’s bottom lip, tracking the movement as he traced the shape of it. He raised his eyes to his again and watched as the other ghoul’s pupils dilated, swallowing up the purple bit by bit.

“I’m sorry,” Dew whispered again. “I didn’t mean to get all melancholy. I’m so, so glad that you were sent to us after he died.”

Aeon’s lips parted slightly and a slow smile lit up his face. Dew took the unspoken invitation, breaching them with the thumb that still stroked along the bottom one. Aeon bit down playfully on the digit and something changed. 

Dew felt the moment that his sadness began to lift and was replaced my something else, something that burned oh so slowly. Before he knew it, it was well on the way to becoming all consuming.

It was longing, he realised. He found himself longing to be loved, longing to feel a connection, longing to be as close as physically possible to someone and longing to be grounded in the here and now. He needed Aeon to take him over and he needed to feel it all.

Dew extracted his thumb from between Aeon’s lips and he waited. The quintessence ghoul narrowed his eyes and searched Dew's face as if trying to figure out what he needed. He leaned in and tentatively touched his lips to Dew’s in a feather light kiss, testing the water to see how he was going to react.

Dew had begun to tremble and he reached up, running the shaking tips of his fingers through the other ghoul’s hair. Aeon’s hands roamed his body lazily, claws gently scraping as he went. The juxtaposition between the sharp points and the delicate touch was not lost on Dew as he savoured the feel of them. The warmth and the drag of calloused palm against his skin never failed to stoke his need and he found himself committing every sensation to memory.

He let Aeon in, kissing him back with more urgency. Dew rolled over and Aeon followed him, coming to rest in the cradle of his body. The weight of him was comforting and Dew got his wish when Aeon made sure to lay his long body against his, skin touching every place that it could. He rested his elbows by Dew’s head and he gave a contented little sigh, wrapping his arms around Aeon’s back and drawing his knees up, hooking his ankles around his waist.

Aeon pulled back from their kiss and Dew whimpered but the other ghoul pressed two fingers against his lips to quiet him. He rested his chin on Dew’s chest and looked up at him through long lashes, a spark of heat burning in his stare.

“Quiet,” he growled softly. “You have something to say, or some sound to make, you do it in my ear. They are mine and I do not want the others hearing what is meant for me.”

Dew groaned, the words making his insides clench. He loved the possessive side of Aeon, he didn't show it too often and Dew's response to it was usually instantaneous. Within seconds it made him a whimpering, leaking mess and right then was no exception.

Aeon nipped his jaw in warning and one of his hands reached between them as he shifted his hips.

Dew squirmed as the fingers that had been used to silence him skimmed down his body, way down. They stroked over his balls and down past his taint. When they breached the tight ring of muscle, Dew let out a low moan. He’d done as he was told though, he nuzzled his cheek against Aeon’s and closed his teeth carefully around the lobe of his ear. He felt him smiling against the skin of his neck as Aeon curled his fingers inside of him.

“Please,” Dew whispered and Aeon shivered.

“What does my little spark need?”

Dew felt a smile spread across his lips. He knew when Aeon broke out the pet names that this was going to be exactly what he needed. The warm glow that he felt already intensified and he used their pack bond to soak up as much of the love and comfort that Aeon offered as he could.

He gasped as Aeon used his fingers to stretch him out, feeling the slick there. The anticipation was almost as sweet as the reward that he knew was coming.

“Need you. Please, Aeon,” he whispered. “I need to feel.”

Dew raked his claws gently down Aeon’s back until he reached his ass. He gripped the skin which earned him a low warning snarl and a roll of the other ghoul’s hips.

“Fuck, Dew,” Aeon said, fangs grazing his neck.

He shifted again, fingers slipping out and rubbing Dew's slick onto the head of his cock.

Aeon moved and propped himself up, putting his forehead to Dew’s and meeting his stare. He smirked, eyes glowing steadily with purple fire. Dew held his breath, feeling Aeon lining himself up, the blunt head of him skimming through the slick that he’d made. Just the thought of this always had him worked up and dripping, hips twitching, blood burning – desperate for whatever Aeon chose to give him.

“Please,” Dew breathed, finding himself begging because if Aeon didn’t fuck him any second now he was going to spontaneously combust. “I’ve been a good boy, haven’t I? Need you inside me. Make me feel better. I need you to love me.”

Aeon put his mouth over Dew’s as he pushed his way in, swallowing down the harsh exhale and the groan he let out as he filled him in one smooth thrust.

Dew's eyes rolled back and he wrapped his arms around Aeon’s back again, clutching him tightly.

This was what he’d needed. The weight of him above him, buried inside of him and curled around him. He’d needed to breathe him in, hands roaming flesh and sweat soaked skin sliding against sweat soaked skin.

He’d needed Aeon to anchor him, just like this.

As Aeon began to move, hips circling and grinding against him, tongue probing and clashing with his, Dew found himself again.

This was his here and now. Flesh dragging against flesh, Aeon’s love and lust and his raw power thrumming through their pack bond. It was the reassurance he needed, reassurance that he was right there with him when he'd needed him and Dew latched right onto his strength. He let it drag him out of the funk he’d been in and he felt himself waking up fully again.

It was Aeon who broke their kiss again, burying his face into the crook of Dew’s neck and breathing him in. He put his teeth around the tendon there and Dew tipped his head back, feeling Aeon hurtling ever closer to the edge of his pleasure.

He was breathing hard, hot breath against Dew’s skin as he ground himself against that place inside of him that made him weak. Dew heard himself whimper and he shoved his fist into his mouth. He bit down into his hand hard enough to leave a mark and when he felt Aeon unravelling it was almost his undoing too.

Not quite though.

Aeon tensed, every muscle straining and he shoved himself impossibly further inside of Dew, cock throbbing as he peaked. He bit down, fangs piercing flesh and Dew made a strangled noise that was muffled by the fist he’d lodged firmly into his mouth.

Aeon groaned, tongue lapping at the wound that he’d made and Dew winced when it stung. He ground his hips at the sensations, always such a slut for the pleasure and the pain that he experienced when Aeon marked him. It was a combination of enjoying the sting and the pride that he felt, knowing that the others would see what a good boy he’d been, that he deserved to be claimed, that he was worthy of it.

“Poor thing,” Aeon murmured. He pulled out slowly and Dew whimpered, not ready to let go of him just yet. He was still aching. “Let me take care of that for you.”

Aeon extracted himself from Dew’s hold, putting his hands in the furs either side of his head and smiling down at him.

“Fuck,” Dew breathed as Aeon sent some of his quintessential magic to him, caressing along his heated skin.

Sometimes when he used it, it felt like a warm breeze teasing his skin or a warm breath against it. Other times it lit up every nerve ending with intensity in all of the very best ways. Now though, it was like a gentle, reverent touch against his oh so sensitive flesh.

Aeon leaned down and kissed Dew’s jaw, working his way down his neck and to his collar bone. He nipped at his pec and rolled his nipple between his teeth, all the while using those delicious tingles of magic to keep Dew close to the edge.

His breath hitched as Aeon kissed and nibbled his way south but when he nipped Dew’s hipbone, a wanton moan escaped him. Aeon growled low, the vibrations making the hairs on Dew's body stand on end.

Oh fuck.

Aeon reached a long arm up and clamped a hand over Dew's mouth. His touch was rougher now and wasn’t that just exquisite?

“I said be quiet,” Aeon hissed against his hip.

Dew’s cry was muffled as Aeon closed his lips around his cock. If he’d been able to form a coherent thought right then, he’d have realised that the others would definitely be aware of what they were doing by now so it would have made no difference anyway.

Aeon got to work, using his hand and his mouth in unison and within minutes Dew could feel himself falling. He looked down and Aeon met his eyes, cheeks hollowed as he worked Dew’s cock, twisting his fist around it as he stroked and sucked.

Dew reached down and grabbed a handful of Aeon’s hair, tugging at him.

Aeon snarled around him, still holding his gaze and the vibrations did it. He felt it in his gut first, that sublime tension that builds and builds and spreads outwards. His sole focus became Aeon’s mouth around him, his tongue and his lips and the sensation of pleasure.

He couldn’t take any more, the vibrations became too much and Dew’s eyes rolled back as the orgasm hit, radiating outwards from Aeon.

The hand over Dew's mouth tightened as he cried out Aeon’s name, the waves of pleasure making him lose control and forget all about being quiet or waking the others or even who the fuck he was.

He must have died for a second, he was sure of it.

“I think you killed me,” he said when he came back down. He'd thrown his arm across his eyes to shield them. “I think I just died.”

Aeon snorted a laugh and kissed his hip.

“Don’t be so dramatic, Dew,” he said, crawling his way back up his body.

He lay himself along him and Dew glanced at him from under the crook of his elbow.

“Fuck off, Aeon. You killed me. End of.”

Aeon shrugged and flopped down dramatically beside him, heaving a heavy sigh.

“You’re welcome.”

This ficlet is a rework of a chapter I wrote for my OC ghouls Quinn and Air. If you want more of their smut, check out my Quair Oneshots fic on AO3 🖤

[she-karev]

Carina Gives Birth (Maya x Carina Birth Imagine)

Age Rating: 12+

Chapters: One of Two

Fandom: Station 19

Ship: Maya Bishop x Carina DeLuca

Canon Episode: After Series Finale

AN: Happy Pride guys! For the last day of this pride month I wanted to do something special and what’s more special than the miracle of life? I’m doing two chapters of this; one will have Carina giving birth and the next will have Maya in the birthing room. Enjoy you guys and let me know what you think down below!

Summary: Carina gives birth to her and Maya’s daughter with Maya by her side who is supportive through all of it.

Words: 1795

January 24, 2024

Maya leans against the door frame of the hospital room in the OB floor of Grey Sloan tormented while her wife is inside having their baby. Despite being an OB herself Carina denied the epidural preferring to release natural oxytocin through pleasure. The reason Maya is outside is because Carina ordered her out of the room so she can do this herself.

The blonde firefighter doesn’t know if she should be offended or grateful to be excluded out of this private moment. Nevertheless, she is nervous as it is as she waits for Carina to be more relaxed and fully dilated so she can give birth to their baby girl and there will be light at the end of this dark tunnel.

Her red hoodie is soaked with sweat, and she flexes her hands compulsively at her sides, the urge to run from her problems is strong but she knows she doesn’t want to miss one moment of this. Besides if she ran Carina would find her and kill her.

“Do you want me to get you anything?” Andrew asks quietly and Maya realizes her brother-in-law came up from the hallway to stand next to her, “Water, coffee…a shot of vodka?”

Maya chuckles at her sympathetic brother knowing he’s been here before her with his wife Amber two years ago. She can only imagine how stressed he was and how agitated Amber got by the minute. She thinks it was a miracle he made it out in one piece.

“I’m fine. Carina is in there…trying to relieve the pain naturally.”

Andrew holds up his hand, “Say no more I’ve learned all about that from my very informative and shameless sister. Other than that, how’s it going?”

“Well, I’m gonna be a mother again and the key to achieving our yearlong dream is to put up with my angry and hormonal wife.” Maya purses her lips, “Maybe I should have carried this one instead. Speaking of which, how’s Liam?”

Before they drove to the hospital Maya and Carina dropped off their son, Liam, at his uncle Andrew’s and aunt Amber’s.

“He’s good.” Andrew says assuring, “He and Lucy were playing plush armies with Amber when I left. He was smiling the whole time; I think he already knows he’s gonna be a big brother soon.”

Maya smiles, “God I hope those two are close growing up. It’s not the case with me and my brother but I’ve learned that poison is not genetic, so I am hopeful.”

Andrew grins at Maya patting her back in comfort, “Well you’re already raising one great kid and he’s gonna be a great big brother. Besides Amber read from the books that siblings entertain each other because they have someone their age to play with. I mean look at me and Carina. We had each other and we both ended up great.”

Maya chuckles clearly teasing Deluca who smirks, “Generally speaking and the way we grew up I would say I’m right. So, I think your good on the sibling’s front.”

“Thanks for that I needed to hear it.” Maya exhales and furrows her eyebrows at the mention of Amber’s latest reading topic, “Wait why is Amber reading about raising two kids? Are you guys…?”

Andrew shakes his head vehemently, “No god no Lucy is a handful as it is, and Amber is starting to hear back from the fellowships she applied for.”

“But?”

“But she’s entertaining the idea and wants to wait till Lucy is older.”

Maya smiles at the news of possibly being an aunt again, “Wow for all of her complaining Amber isn’t shy on doing all of that again.”

Andrew shrugs, “Well she grew up with two brothers and I grew up with a sister, so it was a given for us to want Lucy to have that too.”

“Well, hey maybe you can let it slip to Amber that Maya is a good name for a girl.” Andrew chuckles at that, “Or Bishop if there’s a Y chromosome.”

Andrew winces, “She already claimed both her brothers' names if we have a boy.”

“Just keep it in mind.”

“Will do.”

“Maya!”

Carina’s agonized cries cut off their conversation as Maya and their OB, Linda Perez, rush back inside. Maya immediately stands by her wife’s side. Carina’s face is drenched with sweat and twisted with pain. The towering belly over her contracts causing Carina to scream in agony and Maya can only soothe her with words.

“Breathe, let it out you’re doing so great.” Maya turns to Linda who is doing a pelvic exam on Carina and needs to get answers, “What’s going on?”

“Your wife is fully dilated, and the baby is crowning she needs to push.”

Maya is shocked at how fast the labor progressed, “Already?”

“Sometimes in the case of geriatric pregnancies the time can-”

“Did you just say geriatric?!” Carina asks their OB offended with Maya standing by scared to step in.

Linda is scared as well and tries to mend her words, “It’s just the term Dr. DeLuca you know it.”

“Of course, I know it I am asking you not to make this so much worse for me!” Carina groans again.

Linda gets back to business, “Okay Dr. DeLuca I want you to give me a big push, okay? Can you do that?”

Carina shudders and looks at Maya, “I don’t know if I can, this is all happening so fast, what if I can’t do this?”

Maya stays calm and looks down at her wife with tenderness as caresses her hair back, “Yes you can, you can do this I know you can. You always say that to all of your patients and now it’s your turn.”

Carina groans, “I am amazed none of have punched me when I told them that as they were experiencing a world of pain I’m feeling right now!”

Maya chuckles, “Hey listen to me look at me.” Carina looks at Maya with tears in her eyes clearly scared, “It’s scary now, it’s scary for both of us, but in the end, we won’t even remember how scared we were once this baby comes out. Our daughter is gonna come and it’ll be so wonderful for both us and it’ll make all of this so worth it.”

Carina sniffles at that slightly calmer as Maya continues, “You told me that when I was on the fence of having kids and I am so glad you did because I wouldn’t be here with you about to expand our family. You did that for me, and I want you to do something for me again. I want you to push so that we can meet our daughter and take her home with us so we can raise our two kids and love them for the rest of our lives. Can you do that?”

Carina sighs and nods, “Yes.”

Linda once again orders Carina to push and she does so with Maya right next to her smoothing her hair back as she screams. Carina grabs Maya’s hand and holds it as she pushes again this time using all of her strength as Maya yells out words of encouragement while Carina holds her hand with alarming strength. And then it happened in an instant.

Carina’s pants stop as they hear a baby’s weak cries from the end of the bed. They look to see Linda holding their bloody and wriggling daughter already crying in the OB’s arms. Linda cleans the baby and wraps her in a blanket. Carina’s past aggression has shifted into laughs of joy accompanied by tears at finally seeing her dream come true. Linda puts the baby in Carina’s arms and the Italian woman greets their daughter.

“Ciao bambina, erano le tue mama’s.” Carina kisses the top of her crying daughter’s head overcome with so much love.

Meanwhile Maya is frozen with shock as she looks at the little girl in front of her stunned by what she helped made and how beautiful it all turned out.

“Do you want to cut the cord mommy?” Linda asks with a smile, holding the scissors out to her.

Maya snaps out of it long enough to smile, grab the scissors and cut the umbilical cord. After that she sits next to Carina on the bed crooning over their daughter who has calmed down. Carina sees her wife behind her and can see the love in her eyes as they glisten with tears.

Carina coos at the baby girl wrapped in a blanket, “Here bambina your mama wants to see you, let’s go to her.”

Carina moves to put the baby in Maya’s arms. Maya is shocked at first but gradually adjusts and holds her daughter and she puts her in a football position with her neck up. She looks at her daughter in front of her and immediately feels that unconditional love her father never gave her. She doesn’t care how many gold trophies she wins or how many races she does, nothing will stop her from loving this little blonde and blue-eyed baby in her arms. She says the same words she said to her three-year-old self two years ago knowing it’s exactly what she needs to do to break her family pattern and start anew.

Maya smiles at the baby, “Hi baby, I love you no matter what.” Maya starts to cry, and her voice breaks a bit as she is overcome with so much love for this tiny being, “You are lovable, no matter what. You are lovable, your mama’s love you without question and without condition. Don’t ever forget that or doubt how worthy you are of love because you are worth so much of it. We love you so much.”

Carina smiles at Maya knowing how much pain she had to go through to get to this point of her life and knowing just how lucky their children are to have a mother like her. Carina caresses their sleeping daughter’s cheek with her index finger as Maya softly caresses the babies soft light haired head.

Linda smiles at them before asking an important question, “What’s her name?”

“Andrea.” The women answer at the same time, and they look at each other in surprise. Maya smiles knowing Carina is naming her after her brother who has supported them and been by their side through all of this. And Carina knows Maya is naming her Andy Herrera’s full name, Andrea, as her best friend means the world to her and has saved Maya’s life so she can be in this moment with their new child.

Carina smiles and leans her head forward to touch Maya’s as they enjoy this moment as a family with the newest addition to their family, Andrea DeLuca-Bishop.

Maya Gives Birth Here

[takaraphoenix]

August 23: lost & basement - Derek and Stiles kidnapped together 😈

(you are a horrible person and I love you. here, have our boys kidnapped and tormented, with some extra flashbacks for Stiles)

Tags: m/m, kidnapping, hurt/comfort, Spark Stiles, Erica Lives, Boyd Lives, Jackson Doesn't Leave

Main Pairing: Derek/Stiles

Teen Wolf Characters: Mieczysław 'Stiles' Stilinski, Derek Hale, Erica Reyes, Vernon Boyd III, Isaac Lahey, Jackson Whittemore, Lydia Martin, Scott McCall, Allison Argent

@writersmonth Prompts: lost + basement

Summary: Stiles and Derek get kidnapped by hunters. When Stiles wakes up in a basement, it brings back memories of a different basement and different hunters.

This Story on FFNet | This Story on AO3

What Happens in the Basement

Stiles Summer Stories 2024

Stiles blinked blearily. His head ached, there was a pounding coming from the back of his head. Where he had been hit. Knocked out. Which was why he felt like shit right now. Something was dripping nearby. He didn't like that sound. Groaning, labored breath. Someone else was here.

He turned his head very slowly. Careful. Bracing himself for what he would find. It wasn't what he expected. Shirtless Derek, strung up on the ceiling.

Stiles' breath hitched as he saw the electricity attached to him. Sending regular shocks through the Alpha, keeping him from breaking loose. He jolted at every shock. Stiles' breath picked up, panic rising in his chest as that stuffy, kind of wet air of the basement and the sound of electricity, the pained grunts of a wolf getting tortured by electricity, sent him back to a different basement.

He could still see Gerard's sneer, feel his boots kicking Stiles' ribs until they cracked, until he couldn't breath anymore and he couldn't breath, he couldn't breath, because he couldn't get Boyd and Erica down, he couldn't free them, he'd tried but the electricity shocked him, nearly knocked him out and then Gerard had come and beat on him and-

"Stiles, Stiles," Derek roared, weaker than usual, but loud enough to startled Stiles back in the now. "Wherever your mind went, don't follow it. I need you in the here, Stiles."

"Basement," Stiles croaked out.

It took Derek only a moment – only, because, they were in a basement so why would Derek understand what he meant – but then understanding lit up those hazel eyes. He growled.

"Stiles, you're okay," Derek spoke softly. "Boyd and Erica are okay. They're probably right now cursing both of us for getting abducted. They're safe. You all got out of that basement. Argent is dead and you're all alive and you're safe. Well… We will be safe, once we get out of here. But for that, I need you in the present day, not in the past. Can you do that for me, Stiles?"

The past. Right. He wasn't that terrified sixteen year old kid anymore who had no experience. He knew how to fight. Him and his pack had been defending this damn town for two years now. He wasn't taking a beating laying down anymore. He was never going to let anyone have that much power and control over him anymore. Taking a shaky breath, Stiles nodded.

"What do we do, Alpha?" Stiles asked, voice sharper.

Compartmentalize. He could have his flashbacks later, throw up and cry all he wanted about the memories and the feeling of being helpless and useless. He could focus on the pain he was in later on too, curl together on his bed, nurse his injuries and bemoan that wolves healed faster. Right now, there were more important things to focus on, like getting himself and his Alpha out.

"How's your flame?" Derek asked in a very low voice.

In case someone was listening in. Flame. It felt weird, that Derek called it that. One would think that Derek had very, very bad associations with fire. But he said that the flame his Spark lit was different. Was good. A flame that kept their pack warm and safe, that burned down their enemies.

Closing his eyes, Stiles concentrated on his magic, visualizing the spark of it. It was dim. Physical injuries tended to drain his magic as it compensated into trying to heal him.

"Running low on fuel," Stiles muttered frustrated. "I'll need… an hour."

Derek grunted his confirmation, nodding his head. "Maybe the pack will find us before that."

"Maybe," Stiles swallowed hard, still tugging on his magic, trying to hurry it.

"And if not, I trust my Emissary," Derek's eyes were too honest, too warm, too much.

Stiles choked on his words. How had he earned that level of trust? How could he love this man so much? All he could give Derek in return was a jerky nod. The Alpha knew how much his trust meant to Stiles. Even though that trust was mutual. They'd saved each other's lives too often over the past two years now. They knew they could always rely on each other, even if there was nobody else. Sure, their pack was strong and loyal, but even without any of the betas, Alpha and Emissary would always be able to back each other up. Even before they were Alpha or Emissary, when they were just Derek and Stiles, a lone beta on the verge of omega and a flailing teen with no magic.

/break\

A couple minutes later, three men walked into the basement. Stiles steeled himself, Derek could tell by the tenseness on the boy. He knew what came next. He locked eyes with Stiles, trying to convey that he was here, that they would get out of this together. He really hoped Stiles didn't remember how they'd gotten here. Because the hunters had shot Isaac, wolfsbane spreading through the blonde, the pup going down, distracting Stiles long enough to drop his magic. The hunters shot Derek next, as he tried to protect his pup and his mate – Emissary – and then they'd been taken.

If Stiles remembered that Isaac was hurt, poisoned, possibly alone, possibly worse, then that would only send Stiles into another panic like earlier. They couldn't afford that. Not right now.

"Last of the Hales," one of the hunters laughed. "You should fetch a good price."

"What do we do with that one though. He's not a wolf."

One of the hunters approached Derek, but the other went for Stiles. And no. No, that wasn't good. That wouldn't do. Stiles needed to focus on his magic and Stiles needed to be safe. Last time he'd been captured by hunters and tortured in a basement had really messed Stiles up. He'd had nightmares for months, Boyd and Erica sneaking into his room to comfort each other.

"I'm the one you want," Derek growled, baring his fangs and flashing his red eyes.

A fist connected with his jaw. Good. Meant they didn't pay attention to Stiles. The third hunter sat on the table, in front of Stiles and Derek. Adjusting the tools that laid out next to him. A silent threat for what came next. Derek ground his teeth together.

"I think," the second hunter spoke, looking at Stiles. "We could have some fun with this one."

"Oh, I'm not fun," Stiles quipped. "Ask anyone. I'm so annoying, I talk too much and you will just have a migraine at the end of it, honestly I think you would do yourself a favor just letting me go."

Why could that boy not shut up once in his life? Did Stiles really not have any self-preservation instincts at all? Derek growled annoyed, glaring at his Emissary. The glare hardened when a fist collided with Stiles' face. Derek was going to tear that hunter apart himself. Nobody laid a hand on his Stiles. A snarl tore from his throat, feral and vicious.

/break\

Scott was fully panicking and he was so glad to have Allison and Lydia right now, because Allison calmed him down and Lydia was the brain. Their Alpha was gone and so was their Stiles and Scott just so did not function well without Stiles, Stiles was his best friend, his brother, what if something serious was happening to him? Plus, Isaac was shot. They'd found him, barely breathing – the hunters must have left him behind, left him for death. Only taking Alpha and Emissary.

"Boyd, Jackson, you go through the back," Lydia instructed. "Scott and Erica, through the front. Allison is in place to keep an eye on everything from above, I'm waiting in the car, keeping it running so we can move fast, in case they're not in good shape. Everyone got it?"

Sharp nods, serious looks from all betas. An attack on their pack, they took those seriously. They made their way into the house, taking the two hunters in front of the television out, meeting up in the living room. Following their noses, they went downstairs to the basement. Scott's heart sank into his stomach as he saw Stiles, battered and bruised and strung up. Erica next to him gasped out a sob, shaking a little. Within seconds, Scott was next to them, freeing Stiles.

"Stiles," Scott whined. "Are you alright? Are you in a lot of pain?"

Even while he said it, he drained Stiles' pain. A pleased smile spread over Stiles' face as he collapsed into Scott's arms fully boneless. Scott looked over at Derek, watching Jackson and Boyd take their Alpha down after turning of the electricity. Right now, Derek looked even worse. Once the electricity stopped, Derek would heal faster.

"Hey, Batman," Erica's voice was shaky. "H… How are you feeling? Are you okay?"

"Der took the brunt force," Stiles muttered, glaring at the Alpha. "Kept mouthing off. Worse than me, I swear. I have never heard him talk that much. Idiot."

Scott heaved a sigh. Why was Stiles like this. He was going to bring Scott into an early grave. Wrapping an arm securely around Stiles' waist, with Erica on Stiles' other side, he helped Stiles out and toward the car where Lydia and Allison were waiting for them.

"Time to get home," Lydia chimed, eyes on Stiles and Derek in the back. "You'll be fine."

And somehow, she made that sound like an order. Nobody argued with Lydia Martin.

/break\

Isaac had gotten hurt. Stiles' face fell when he saw the bandaged beta. Hobbling over to him, Stiles curled around the blonde and buried his face in Isaac's neck. The blow to his head had distracted him from how exactly he had received that blow. Isaac whined and snuggled up to him.

"You're alright," Isaac sighed relieved, nuzzling him. "Derek?"

The Alpha grunted and came to lay on Isaac's other side. "I'm alright. You're alright too, pup."

Erica, Boyd and Scott practically brawled over getting to lay closest to Stiles, while Allison, Lydia and Jackson accepted to lay on Derek's side. Just like that, the pack was one puppy pile. Stiles loved those. He smiled contently as Erica wrapped an arm around his waist, Boyd having a hand on his arm from where he had Erica sandwiched between himself and Stiles. Scott was half laying on Erica so he could also wrap himself around Stiles. They were fine. His pack was fine. Safe.

He started shaking as the tears he'd locked away earlier broke free. Nobody commented on it, they just held him, quietly, knowing he needed to process what had happened today, what had happened a year ago. Derek on Isaac's other side scooted higher, high enough so he could lean over and nuzzle Stiles' face. His lips brushed against Stiles' cheek in a gentle kiss and it gave Stiles pause. He turned his head ever so slightly, enough to align their lips. The kiss was short and not how Stiles had ever pictured, but it was even better because it was comfort, reassurance and love.

"You're alright, Stiles. We're all going to be alright," Derek whispered and kissed him again.

~*~ The End ~*~

[bellasmumblingsandmusings]

WIP Wednesday/ Fic Update!

Tagged most recently by @bardic-inspo. Thanks friend!

Here is a preview of the upcoming flashback in Chapter 8!

Im going to use this as a blog update! Starting next week, when Chapter 8 will be coming (It'll be worth the wait!) I will be posting on Weds at 2pm PST! This is to allow my beta readers the weekend to work on things! Next posting is July 24 2024 Warning: Smutt/Sad Smutt ahead

After the jump!

Chapter 8:  You’re Mine

Astarion closed his eyes for a moment, overwhelmed by the rush of longing. Her audacity almost convinced him to let go of the torment that clung like a shadow. She leaned in, her breath warm against his ear, her words tinged with a playful edge, "Are you coming, or do you need a map?"

Just for tonight. The darkness embraced him, the familiar symphony of the brothel echoing in his ears, drowning out the voice that whispered of love and loss. Another night, another fleeting comfort. He followed her, mind slipping away into the shadows, driven by the desperate need to forget.

He allowed her to take his hand, leading him towards a shadowed room draped in the promises of the night. The air thickened, the flickering candles casting ghostly shadows, the scent of sex and opium weaving through the atmosphere—a tapestry of longing, desire, and haunting memories, pulling him ever deeper into the abyss. Time was lost, even as she poured wine bottle after wine bottle into his mouth, a balm that never soothed.

The woman's dark skin caressed his face, a stark contrast to Sima's, and his hazy mind struggled to grasp the difference. Her nipples teased his wine-stained lips as she whispered a taunt into his pointed ear, "Is that the best you can do? And here I thought you looked... like a lord." She bit his earlobe, then discarded the small cloth hiding her glistening heat.

Is this what I've been reduced to? A crude jest? Her words, they burn. The flash of anger in his eyes flickered briefly before a smirk curled his lips, a mask of control slipping into place. He grabbed her hair, pulling hard, leaning in close.

"Careful, darling... If you keep teasing me, I might just have to teach you a lesson."

He pressed her hips to his, rolling them gently to tease her, the smirk never leaving his face. He needed to maintain control, to feel that power.

The woman ground her wet heat against his growing arousal, her copper skin sparking flashes of Sima before his eyes. The silkroot's haze intensified, transforming the woman into Sima. Her brown eyes, her wet heat on him... after a year. The vision of Sima whimpered in his ear, "Then what are you waiting for, my lord?" Wait for the rest on July 24th!

Tagging @thedreamlessnights, @bludazey @bloodinwine, @pursuitseternal, if you have anything you're working on that you'd want to share. No worries if you'd rather not! 💜