#and I NEED someone to scream with me about a fandom that has been dead for literal years :')

[unhandmeisay]

So I had a thought

I've been watching Jason Carl's (long may he reign) Vampire the Mascarade chronicle L.A By Night, and a scene in season two hit me in the feels in a way it had no right to AND made me think of an interesting parallel

/!\ Fair warning, spoiler ahead for Season 2 of L.A. By Night and ep 3 of Candela Obscura Circle of Needle and Thread /!\

In season 2, ep 8 of L.A. By Night the protagonists are sent on a diplomatic mission to try and distract the Camarilla, a sort of totaliratian parallel vampire state while their allies gathered support and rallied the troops. This was as close as it gets to a suicide mission, and it gave this gem of a scene:

Notice anything familiar ???!

I dunno man, but the urge of the two daddest figure of each group to immortalize (lol) their friends/familiy-in-all-but-blood while still in the eye of the storm, in the moment right before the impact, when they can still pretend that they will all come out of it alive ??? The others being very deeply awkward but still humoring Undad Victor and Bestboy Lieutenant Trapp bc despite the cringiness they recognize the gravity of the situation and also want that moment to strech just a bit longer ?????

Nothing better to sell a proper feeling of impeding doom than the idea that the affection these people had for each other will live on in a picture, even if they all most likely don't.

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk.

[darlingdarkly]

Fates Worse Than Death

A Deimos x f!reader Series

Chapter 1

Word count: 5k

Part: 2

OG A/N: Hey, hi! So, tomorrow is my birthday. And for my birthday I decided to write a hugely self indulgent smutty fic for myself and instead of writing one for cod like I’ve been doing and contributing to an already super saturated fandom I have decided to write it for my r6s fandom, which admittedly keeps looking deader and deader, but I know that if I’m scouring the tags for fics then maybe someone else is too and so I’m gonna share my gift to myself in hopes that someone else who’s desperate for content will find it and be glad it’s there.

Second A/N: Hey! So I decided to make this a series actually. This will stand as chapter 1 💕

Dead Dove Do Not Eat

Listen to me 👁️👁️ I need you to heed the tags. I am going to tag the hell out of this thing and if you don’t read the tags then you’re throwing yourself into a mixed bag of whatever the hell and that’s on you. The tags are there for your benefit. Not mine. You have been warned.

CW: non con elements, dub con elements, interrogation, belt spanking, bondage, unprotected climactic p in v intercourse, oral (f!receiving), abduction, hair pulling, fingering, death, blood, mild game spoilers 🤷‍♀️

This is the point of no return, you click this button and you consent to the content on the other side.

This takes place after Deimos has killed Harry but before Rainbow has captured him, if you give a shit about canon events and timeline. Enjoy 💕

The chilly night wind whipped through the leaves, rattling them noisily and aiding in concealing your stealthy movements. You and three other operatives cut through the wooded terrain like silent wraiths as you sought out the hidden compound due north, said to be home to his lair. The mission was simple, get in, extract Deimos and exfil.

You moved quickly and quietly bringing up the rear of the squad. Rifle locked and loaded, the muzzle pointed out ahead of you, strafing for contact. You heard your squad leader over the comms, gruff and clear as he spoke to your contact back on base.

“Rainbow, this is O1, we are two clicks due south of the compound. ETA 15 for contact, are we a go?”

After a moment of measured silence he got a response. “Rainbow to O1, you’re green lit. Standby for evac.”

O1 came back moments later. “Copy that. Over.” There was an audible cut through the radio before O1 addressed your squad. “Alright, squad. You heard the man. On your toes.” Each of you responded in turn. “O2 copy.” A pause. “O3 copy.” You depressed the button on your headset and responded. “O4 copy.”

Soon after, the four of you crested a hill and fanned out over the top of it, laying eyes upon the brilliant glow cutting through the velvet of night like a knife. O1 came through your ear piece and gave curt instruction. “O2, follow me to the east. O3 and O4 you take west. Stick close to the perimeter, plant the charge and fall back. We detonate on my count and breach simultaneously. Do you understand?”

The three of you responded in unison. “Sir, yes sir.” You saw him motion forward and your group began to move, splitting into your assigned pairs and descending upon the compound. You lost sight of your squad mates in the thick of the trees but kept close to O3 as you neared the far west walls of the hidden base. Just as you made the bottom of the hill there was a panicked cry over the comms from O2. “What the fuck is that? O1 we have a disturbance.” There’s a break in his speech, a long drawn out eerie quiet that unnerves you.

“Sir, we’re not alone! I repeat, not alone.” There was a faint scuffle in the distance and a single gunshot before O1 came over the comms, frantic. “O1 to Rainbow, we’re made! Requesting evac. It’s him.”

You and O3 stopped and turned towards the commotion, unsure of how to proceed. There was a heart stopping, pained scream in the distance and you heard Rainbow call to the pair of you over the comms. “O3, O4, this is Rainbow. Get out of there, you’re compromised. Get to evac. I repeat, Get to evac!”

The pair of you took off in the woods, abandoning mission and headed west towards the evac point. You could feel your heartbeat in your chest and had to focus to calm your breathing. At this point it was about survival as you followed close behind O3 and cut through the woodlands for the helo just eight clicks west.

There’s a flutter in the air, a woosh of displaced air as something whizzes by and you hear O3 ahead of you begin to panic. “Christ it’s him! Run for it, now!” O3 bolts forward and you’re sprinting to catch up but soon he’s lost in the copse of pines and all you have left of him is his panicked yells and heavy breathing over the radio. “O3, where are you? O3!?!” You hear the deafening discharge of a heavy caliber ring out in the still night and it’s too close for comfort.

You veer away from it and towards the evac. Splitting off on your own as the blood of your last remaining squad member drains from the brand new vent hole in his head and begins to quickly cool in the night air. You can hardly hear yourself crash through the woods, boots scaling over rocks and fallen logs as your breath quickens and terror begins to set in.

You miss the whirring of the foreign object the second time around but there’s no mistaking the calm, collected voice in your ear as he hacks through your comms and makes himself known. “There you are. There’s no hiding. Not for you. Not for me.”

Rainbow comes in low and static-y though the comms and you struggle to make him out clearly. “O4 do you… in O4… Get out! I rep-… Deimos is tra-…. On your posit-….” And then everything cuts. Your comms go dark and you’re officially alone, the last of a nearly dead and shattered squad in the dead of night in the thick of the sticks.

Determined not to die in the midst of these pines you beeline for the green blip on your gps. If you could just make it to the helo you’d survive but as you took a final glance at your position a second blip pinged. A dark red skull just twenty meters back. His deathMARK. You felt a lump in your throat as you realized you’d been made and triple timed it, arms pumping at your sides as you tore through the woods in fear. Pure terror coursed through your veins and nipped at your heels, promising death if caught. There was no capture, Deimos wasn’t known for taking prisoners.

You mounted a hill and pushed out between two huge oaks as you practically slid down the other side. You made huge strides, legs driving you towards salvation as you pushed them to the limit in hopes of escape. You were only four clicks out when you tripped, stumbling over something hard and unseen as you crashed ungracefully to the ground and tumbled in the leaf litter. You scrambled to regain your footing, clawing at the earth and struggling to your feet.

You had just made it up when he hit you like a freight train, violently tackling you and knocking you on your back. The pair of you rolled in the foliage, tumbling over one another in the night and sprawling apart as you came to a jolting stop.

This was it, it was fight or die so you grabbed for the push daggers secured to the straps of your tac vest and faced your adversary. He came up ready to fight, charging forward and lunging for you. You drove forward with a fist, spearheaded leathily by the edge of the knife and swung out to bite at his throat. He pulled back and you sliced through air instead, he followed through with an arm on your elbow and brought your arm down over one thick thigh, breaking your hold and successfully disarming you.

With one knife left you pushed back at his chest and swung forward to attack, hoping to aggressively close the distance and quickly end him but he grabbed your arm with his strong gloved hands and twisted it around until your back was socketed into his chest. He pulled on your limb and brought it down hard over his knee, breaking your hold for a second time and disarming you completely.

You struggled out of his grip and tried to make a break for it, a last ditch effort to stay alive and bolt but he caught a grip on your ankle and you once more went sprawling to the ground, ass over teapot. When you turned around to face death you caught sight of his ballistic mask towering over you, he held the magnum in a tight grip in his right hand and you knew it was over. At least you’d die with your squad, knowing you’d done your best and been outplayed.

But instead of staring down the unblinking black eye that was the bore of his barrel you felt the butt of the .44 Vendetta crash down on your temple before the night stole over you and blocked out all thought.

It wasn’t til much later that you awoke, sluggish, confused and in tremendous pain. The room was bright but cold and when you tried to alleviate the pain in your head by bringing your hand up to soothe it you realized you were bound and secured to some kind of padded platform. Your arms were stretched out and down in front of you, bound together by something strong and without give. Your legs were similarly bound but tucked up beneath you on the padded bench. It was then you realized you were also naked from the waist down. Your chest was covered but had been stripped of your tac gear and uniform and replaced with a stark white tee, your bra was also missing.

You weren’t blindfolded or gagged but when you tried to whip your head around you found it hard to maneuver, only about five degrees of field of view to see on either side and all you could see of that was dingy white tile from floor to ceiling. You struggled in your bonds but stopped as you heard the slow, methodical blows of his boots on the concrete steadily drawing nearer. You stiffened and tried not to think about the view he no doubt was privy to from this angle. He broke the silence first.

“Well she’s finally awake. Don’t struggle, the knots won’t give, I tied them myself.” He sounds smug and confident as he strides up behind you, voice low and clear, not quite deep but thoroughly resolute, the draw of a southern twang peeking out subtly but sophisticated. The venom in you begins to well up in your throat, your teeth grit and body tensing as your anger builds and your hate gestates.

You let loose on him, anger burning a hole in your chest as you feel robbed of your rightful death, you shouldn’t be here still breathing, you should be dead in the woods with your squad, not tied up and captured like some kind of prized war spoil. “Fuck you! Kill me, you bastard!” He let himself come into view, circling around you with his arms clasped behind his back. He was still fully clad in his black tac gear and ballistic helmet, the dark, obsidian lenses of his eyes gleamed deviously in the fluorescent light.

“Can’t get information out of you if you’re dead, now can we?” You ground your teeth in your skull, body trembling in half fear, half seething rage. “You won’t get a damn word out of me, motherfucker! You’ll have to kill me, I won’t talk!”

His head tilted slightly as he tisked, chiding you calmly. “Such a nasty mouth.” He disappeared from view, the dark drape of his cape flowing out behind him, returning to his position behind you as you heard a rustle and the soft tink of metal on metal as he lifted something off of a table. “My godfather was a stern but loving man. He taught me at an early age about duty and responsibility. About discipline and respect. I loved and respected him dearly but as all boys are, I had a tendency to be rowdy and disrespectful at times. He taught me these values with a firm and unyielding hand. Something I think you could use a good helping of.”

You heard the crack of the belt as he brought the two looped ends taut in his hands and immediately stiffened, the hairs on the back of your neck standing straight up. “You’re going to tell me everything I want to know, including the details of your mission, the intel you received and who you received it from along with the coordinates of the Rainbow base.” He stopped and waited for your response, you sat still and silent, mentally preparing yourself for the coming onslaught.

“Nothing to share?” You shifted in place but spat out at him, tongue in cheek. “Fuck you.” Shortly after you felt the first lick of the belt as it cut through the air and cracked across your bare ass, making you jump and yelp. It may have been a far cry from conventional interrogation methods but it was still painful and humiliating. You heard the leather slide in his fist before you felt the second blow, just parallel to the first, aimed and executed with precision to land just beside it on the same cheek. “Fuck!”

He hummed contently. “Tell me what your mission objective was.” He languidly paced behind you as he waited for your answer, when none came he brought the belt down on the other cheek twice in rapid succession, giving you no time to recover. You tried shifting away from the blows but had about a half an inch of clearance for wiggle room, there was no evading it.

He kept it up, pausing and then attacking ruthlessly, periodically stopping before doling it out again, fat, opaque lines began to criss cross on the smooth surface, marking his progress. He questioned you again and you held silent, preferring to suffer through the consequences rather than give in and endanger an entire base of your colleagues for the quicker respite of death. He’d kill you in time either way, it was better to hold out and die honorably than relent for a swifter end.

“You’re resilient, tough little spit fire, I’ll give you that. But you should know your silence has consequences.”

You sneered at him where he couldn’t see. “I don’t give a fuck about me. Beat me, torture me, cut my toes off one by one, I don’t care. You’ll kill me when you figure out I’ve got nothing to say to you and I will die honorably.”

He laughs and it makes a sliver of uncertainty worm through you. “I’m not going to kill you, sweetheart.” The pet name makes you queasy but his response only confuses you. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“When our little talk ends, the door closes. If you don’t tell me what I wanna know by the time we’re through here your life as you know it ceases to exist.”

“I already told you to just go ahead and kill me. I’ll die before I tell you anything that would put Rainbow at risk.” Instead of punching you in the ribs or breaking a finger he just leaned in til you could feel the warmth of his chest settle over the top of your bare ass and it felt much more sinister than any strike or blow.

“Oh sweetheart, there are fates much worse than death.” You still don’t quite understand and he senses you struggling to grasp the full scope of the threat so he takes a break from the spanking and explains it to you in full detail.

You hear him set the belt down on something before you feel his gloved hands caressing your ass, running the covered fingertips over his handiwork and down the swell of your cheeks before dipping lower and skimming the slit of your sex. His fingers come away slick and he smirks behind the mask where you can’t see.

“If you don’t tell me what I want to hear then I’m going to take these-“ You hear a jingle from behind you and know they’re your dog tags, probably scalped from your neck as he undressed you no doubt. “-and I’m going to throw them out in the woods with your dead squad mates. They’ll think one of two things. Either you died out there like a good soldier and some animal, pack of coyotes perhaps, carted your body away or, I finally caught up with you, gave you an ultimatum, and you sold them out from under the rug. Either way they’ll come to the conclusion that you’re beyond saving and they’ll bury you in an empty casket and move on.”

You felt it all coming to a head and the audacity of it came to be too much. “You’re wrong! They’ll never stop looking for me! You think they’ll give up so easily! They won’t stop until they find me! Ohhhh and they will find me! You are so fucked! You are sooo-“

The crack of the belt against your ass cut off your angry rant, the words dying in a pained yelp as he brought the leather down on your ass in an angry torrent. SMACK. SMACK. SMACKSMACKSMACK.

You clenched against the pain, trying to curl up on yourself but of course it was no use, you could only sit and take it. When the onslaught ended he continued.

“You didn’t let me finish. Either way… no one is going to come looking for you. And I think I’m starting to like you so instead of killing you, like you’re dying to have me do-“ You feel the return of his fingers, the cool leather of his glove soothing against the heated stinging welts already swelling on your cheeks. Then they glided down and you felt his fingers spread your lips and when he spoke this time he sounded different somehow, louder and clearer.

“-I’m going to keep you all to myself. I’ll house you, clean you, feed you. During the day I’ll keep you tied up in here, my own sweet little stress relief, make the walls of this room echo with screams of a different caliber for a change.”

It wasn’t until you felt the flat of his tongue glide up the length of your sex that you realized why he sounded so much clearer, he’d taken his mask off and now he was casually eating your pussy, tongue dipping in between his fingers spreading you apart so gently, a stark contrast from the harsh belt treatment he’d been afflicting upon you moments before.

He hummed into your pussy and you squirmed against the heat of him, simultaneously freaking out yet undeniably turned on as his tongue probed you and his hands caressed the cheeks of your ass. He pulled away and you weren’t sure if it was a sigh of relief or a whine of protest that built a home in your throat, kept at bay only by the last mustering of your will.

“So sweet. When I was a boy growing up in Birmingham, I used to play in the sugar cane fields for hours. Me and my friends would cut away stalks from the edges of the field for a taste. You taste just like that, fresh cut sugar cane.” You shuddered in his hold and told yourself it was all psychological warfare, it changed nothing. When he had the information he seeked he would cut you down just like he did all the rest.

You felt him step away from behind you and come up to your side, his hands trailing like fire along the length of your body as he did so. He reached under the platform you were tied to and suddenly your arms pulled forward in front of you, forcing your chest to pull forward and press against the bench. Your ass raised up high and unshielded as you felt the collective wetness of his saliva and your slick coating your lips, chilly exposed like this, but it doesn’t take long before he’s resumed the position and you feel his hot breath fanning against it, rewarming his meal.

“We’re gonna have a lot fun, sugar cane.”

“So.” Lick. “Much.” Lick. “Fun.” Lick.

You couldn’t help the moan that escaped, at this new angle he had access to the fulty of you and his tongue dipped down and swiped at your clit on the last lick making you momentarily lose yourself in the white hot pleasure of it. “Fuck!”

“I intend to.” You don’t grasp until much later the meaning of that, lost to the way he eats you so slow and sensual. He chuckles behind you and you know now, without a shadow of a doubt, that he intends to keep true to his word because he’s stopped questioning you, stopped beating you, just content to sample his new toy. Your life is over, because you won’t give up Rainbow and you won’t tell him a goddamn thing and your stubborn honor has damned you in a way that was worse than death and now you’ll spend the rest of your days keeping his cock warm until you’ve gone insane from it.

Taking his time and savoring the taste of you on his tongue, you feel the first press of his padded fingers prodding your entrance. Gently pushing forward til he was in just up to the first knuckle, sawing them in and out slowly and twisting them in your heat as his tongue stayed latched to your clit, suckling it.

“Deimos!” He rewarded you with an open mouthed kiss to your clit as he pushed his gloved fingers further into your depths, exploring them as your back arched nice and pretty for him as far as your binds would allow.

He pulled his tongue away to your dismay but kept his fingers buried in you, stilling their movement but curling them inside you to press teasingly against your sweet spot. “Got some new insights for me, sugar cane?”

Your lips were sealed shut as far as that was concerned but your resolve was waning, you recognized the point of no return you were quickly approaching and despite the horrible implications of your future, there were just too many good men and women with their lives on the line for you to justify the alternative.

So you shifted shamelessly to push back on his fingers, eyes squeezing shut as you tried to focus on the pleasure and not the humiliating position you were quickly failing to resist against. He recognized the move as you made it and gave you what was to be his last warning.

“Let me put it in no uncertain terms for you. When I come right in here-“ He flexed his fingers inside you to demonstrate his point, eliciting a high whine from you. “-your time is up. You can sing all you want but past that point you’re no longer your own woman. You’re mine, do you understand?”

You didn’t even consider your freedom for the briefest of seconds, just nodded solemnly as you accepted his terms, though little they mattered. Although he’d seen your nod it mustn’t have been good enough as you felt the all too familiar crack of the leather, jolting you from your thoughts and bringing you back to the present. You clenched down on his fingers, eyes rolling in their sockets at the euphoric sensation.

“I need a verbal answer.” Your grit your teeth for not the first and certainly not the last time dealing with him. “Screw you!”

He laughed, it was easy and carefree. “All in good time, sweetheart. I’m gonna enjoy my meal first.” With that he seemed to be done speaking, leaving you to stew over a decision you’d already made and ruminate in the consequences of it. He dove eagerly back into the heat of your sex, plunging his fingers enthusiastically in and out of your pussy while his tongue lapped at the juices that seeped out around them.

He watched as your toes curled in on themselves, mouth dropping open where he couldn’t see and expelling breath in a silent moan. He proved to be skillful in a manner of ways and this seemed to be no exception to the rule, making light work of bringing your pleasure to a head and threatening to throw you over the edge quicker than you’d like to admit.

You fought for control of your body but it was a battle you were unavoidably losing as he pulled his fingers free and replaced them with his tongue, pushing it deep into you and occupying his hands by rubbing circles over your clit with his thumb. It was a devastating sensation that pulled your muscles taut, your head raised up off the padding and tipped back as far as your restraints would allow as you suddenly came violently.

He spurred it on, lapping at your sopping wet slit and never ceasing the movements of his thumb, making you shake and really test the strength of your ties. He drove you through your orgasm, not even slowing as you began to plead with him to stop, it was too much. When you thought you’d tumble head first into a second one he finally relented, leaving you gasping and panting as you vaguely heard him shucking his pants behind you.

You felt something hard and blunt at your entrance as he slid his cock up to you and rifled it up and down your slit, wetting the tip and enjoying the light springy jump that coursed through you every time his head hit your clit.

“Last chance, sweetheart. As much as I’d hate to lose your company, you’re running out of chances to secure your freedom.” You could hardly focus on his words, still caught between struggling to catch up from your first mind blowing orgasm and steeling yourself against the promise of a second one if the way your pussy was trying and failing to catch his tip and suck it in was any indicator.

He lined himself up and pushed forward, causing you both to moan out together as he stretched you open on his girth. “Fuck me, you are sweet.” He slid home, hips pushing flush with yours as you adjusted to the way he seemed to fill you out perfectly. Your head dipped as he began a steady, unrushed rhythm, slapping his hips to yours every time he drove it home.

You had stopped breathing since he’d entered you and suddenly took one huge sucking breath in, filling your lungs just to immediately expel it as a broken but pleasured moan. He growled behind you and you could feel it vibrate through you in a whole new sensation, overloading your senses, coursing white and blinding in its intensity.

“Please!” You had no idea what you were begging for but it just felt so right, losing your sense of self, reduced to nothing more than nerve endings. He reached forward and grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling back and taking out the slack as your back arched to accommodate his hold.

“Oh god!” You could hardly imagine how you must look, head cocked back and slack-jawed as he split you open from behind. Each thrust was precise and calculated, wringing you for every last drop of pleasure until your mind went blank and your whole being submitted to the fucking.

He leaned forward, breath hot and heavy right behind your ear as he spoke and he must’ve known you were a goner because instead of trying to extract information he just spoke of the future. All the ways he’d bend you to his will, how he’d break you and build you back better in his image.

“It’s truly a shame we met under these circumstances. Under a different light I’d have enjoyed training you, honing your skills instead of wasting all this potential such as it is. Under me you’d have made an unstoppable operator. Now you’ll never see combat again.”

For some reason this truth had only now dawned on you, some deep part of your brain had held out hope of escape or retaliation or vengeance but cock drunk beneath him you knew it was hopeless, he was absolutely right and you were ultimately fucked.

As if he’d been holding back he renewed his vigor and began to pound into you from behind with abandon. Your mouth was dry and your knees were screeching at you from below, despite the padding, but all you could focus on was the pool of pleasure building heavy in your gut. There was no turning back from this, your mind screamed for you to do something but any other thoughts were beyond you and so you expelled them with the rest and took your fate as it sealed, securing a chokehold around your throat and brought you to heel.

You came around his cock, the second world shattering orgasm of the evening and much more all encompassing in its magnitude. You were certain you felt your heart stop, lungs burning for air as you clenched down around him. Seconds later he followed, coming with a half moan, half growl as you squeezed him for all he was worth. White hot spend filled you from the inside out and it was as blissful as it was damning.

The game was up, you were his. You stayed like that, riding the bliss and eyeing up the defeat that swelled up to take its place as it faded. He pulled out of you slowly and you felt his seed drip from you, slide down your thighs and puddle on the bench below you. You hardly heard him as he cleaned himself up and redressed. There was a click as the door to the room opened for the first time you were aware to hear it and two men stepped into the room.

There was a moment of nothing before you felt two firm hands wrap themselves around your arms and loosen your binds. They held you up til the tips of your feet hardly grazed the cool concrete floor and stationed on either side of you, held you up for inspection. You lifted your head to see him standing before you, dog tags dangling from one fist and the belt folded over on itself held tight in the other.

“I can’t say I’m disappointed in you, soldier. You stood your ground and that commands immense bravery. But you knew the rules and now you’ll reap what you’ve sown. You mustered up enough strength to gather saliva in between your lips and spit at his face. It didn’t quite make it and landed at his feet but you could hear a smile in his voice as he commanded the men at your side to carry you up to his quarters. He’d be seeing you again very soon.

[suburbia-and-brentwood-market]

*tower crier mode activated* : Hear ye, hear ye!

I just finished season 2 of Good Omens and I feel like I have something to say. It was ineffably beautiful. Needless to say, that final episode broke me. I feel as though I have left half my soul, half my heart there at the doorstep of the angel's bookshop waiting for him to return.

And not just the story but the making of the series itself has bewitched me. As a film editor and professional cinephile I have been completely mesmerized but the colors, the shots, the sound, the costume, the cinematography, the acting and each and every single visual and performative element that went into it.

And yet I am sad that I wasn't here to scream about every single development in the show and lose my sanity at that parting kiss.

The reason is that shortly after I finished season 1 the 'Neil Gaiman News' dropped, and I swear I DID NOT want to continue having a part in something created by someone who allegedly goes against everything I stand for, especially after my previous experiences in fandoms where the respective celebrity turned out to be a bad person. And I am not going to lie. I really really admired Gaiman; both as I writer and a person. I was undeniably devastated. Over the last few days I have been trying to come to come to terms with my feelings, taking some time off to heal myself, and I have realised a few things.

We don't need to define our feelings, heck we don't even have to sanitize them. The mess we're feeling right now, it's so so valid and genuine. It's proof that we're alive and we're human. That we are all good people or try to be good people with our own definitions of good. It's okay to feel betrayed, to feel scared because you will never really know anyone. To feel that overwhelming existential paranoia that haunts you and keeps affirming your fatal fear that all people are bad and humans inherently selfish and vile and vulgar.

But beyond all that I also found how we have the power to create new paths for ourselves in this tangled mess as we have always done. We all who came to the shore of the Good Omens fandom, like outcasts and refugees of other fandoms and made this our home, our safe place will continue to do so. Please don't boycott these wonderful stories because of one awful person. Remember that Barthes was right; the author is dead. Because these stories are not just his. They belong to all these wonderful people that have a part in making and remaking this. And all those wonderful people that have made a home in it and found friendships and love through it. Let us reconquer and reclaim these stories for ourselves because they do not belong to any one person. They are ours!

But now I am here to thank @ivankaramazov07 (@a-singing-lunatic , @parfyon-the-woodland-witch), @whoineffable @viktorisstupid @nbjetsam @lavender-lentils @lickthecowhappy @justtofollowgaiman @thatdelusionalnerd @zeph1981 @dtmsrpfcringe @ivory--raven @helpits4am @davidtennantgenderenvy and @nastasya--filippovna for constantly encouraging, scaring, nudging me on, and always, always being here with me in this magical journey.

[kayluh1915]

psssst, disclaimer…

@swiftllama: *texts me with no context* EVERY BTS THEY GET GAYER AND GAYER

Me after watching said BTS:

It's Ianthony moment breakdown time, BBY!

I know I've been gone for a while but I've really been going through it, y'all. I want to post more from here on out, but I can't make any promises. Executive disfunction and ADHD paralysis sssuuuccckkkkssss.

Anyways, back to our regularly scheduled screamings!

Also, this is from a members only video. If you can, please support Ian and Anthony directly. I do not share content outside of small Ianthony moments like these.

The noise that came out of my mouth was not human in anyway, shape, or form! Anthony has carried Ian like this before, but it was before his departure. Back then they were really stiff and awkward with each other since their friendship was strained, as they have mentioned several times. Now they're super close and don't give a flying fuck and MY HEART CAN'T TAKE IT!

Sam has been keeping me up to date with everything and I just can't believe the timeline we're in. Everything else might be shit, but at least Ian and Anthony are back together and give us moments like these on the weekly! 😭They keep me sane.

ANYWAYS, I made some gifs of the moment because AHHHH and I'm going to break down the little moments that made my fandom heart flutter

Let's get to it!

Right off the bat, Ian very minorly freaks out when Anthony picks him up and immediately grips Anthony's arm. Logically, I know that anyone would grab onto the closest thing on instinct in this situation... but my Ianthony brain is screaming: "AWWW! ANTHONY MAKES HIM FEEL SAFE!!!!!!!"

Okay, my logic brain is calming down now because this gif just confirmed that Ian not only trusts Anthony whole heartedly but also FEELS SAFE! As soon as Anthony reassures him that he won't let him fall Ian relaxes and starts to let go of the death grip he has on Anthony's arm near the end of the gif.

Another demonstration of how much Ian trusts Anthony. He doesn't even flinch when he lifts him up and even has that face he makes that screams: "yeah yeah, we know Mr. Buff." after Anthony comments on how easy it is for him to hold Ian.

DUDE! The way Ian just goes limp after Anthony once again lets him know that he's got him. IT'S SO FUCKING CUTE and, again, is proof of how much he trusts him. He knows Anthony won't drop him and just decides to relax for a second, putting his full weight on Anthony's shoulders. I CANNOT! It's so intimate!!! Ian probably also took notes from Rhett's "I'm Dead" move he pulls on Link which I find hilarious.

Okay, this is my favorite one of this whole gifset. The way Anthony looks back at Ian to make sure he's still comfortable and then smiling to someone about it!?!? BRING AMBERLAMPS! MY HEART HAS STOPPED!

Damn, I needed these two in my life so badly right now. The fact that they pulled THIS SHIT just makes it so much better. I know they've said and done things more damning within the past few months, but I enjoy more intimate moments like these. Yeah, it's for a bit, but it shows just how much Anthony cares for Ian and how much Ian trusts him.

Lord have mercy, I need a nap after all of that. 😮‍💨

[orionsangel86]

Seeing the latest trailer for Dead Boy Detectives I am starting to feel really hyped for this show. It just looks like such good fun and I wanna highlight some things about it which I feel I am quite perfectly placed as a blogger who is mostly followed by A. Sandman fans, B. Good Omens fans, and C. Supernatural fans.

So here is why ALL of these fandoms should be joining forces and watching Dead Boy Detectives:

It's based on works by Neil Gaiman (Sandman and Good Omens creator - as if you didn't already know lol) and Neil has been involved in its TV adaptation.

It's set in the Sandman universe and will likely have Sandman characters guest starring - Death of the Endless is a confirmed guest star now and features briefly in the latest trailer!

It's gonna be very queer. Look I know this isn't 100% confirmed but there is definitely a big tumblr ship to be made out of Edwin and Charles who have been appropriately aged up from the comics (no shipping of 12 year olds here thank goodness). Y'all are gonna go feral for this ship I just know it.

It's a supernatural mystery series that includes two boys investigating supernatural crimes - sound familiar SPN fans?

It's showrunner is our very own beloved ghost of Steve Yockey (no I'm never letting that joke die) and since Steve Yockey was hands down one of the best SPN writers since Ben Edlund you KNOW its gonna be good.

Ruthie Connell - Need I say more?

Alex Calvert - You'll get to see our beloved child of Destiel again in a new form lmao

Basically this is looking to be like someone asked the question "what would Supernatural have looked like if it came from the mind of Neil Gaiman, had a big budget, and was openly queer?" and THAT my friends, is a question I desperately want to know the answer to.

So watch Dead Boy Detectives! It premiers on Netflix on April 25th.

Then come back to tumblr afterwards and scream about it with me!

:D

[aj-ixsstuff]

Mafia Price

Have I ever played cod mw before? No. Will I still write for the fandom? Yes, yes I will.

You were only meant to be his daughter's nanny. But it turned out to be so much more then that.

He told you the very night you took the job that he was dangerous but you never believed him. He was so kind to you, so attentive and thoughtful. How could he ever dream of hurting anybody?

After a few weeks of working, you finally saw it. You'd just put Lily to sleep and planned on sitting down and catching up on tv before mr Price came back. However, you were interrupted by the bloodied man stood in the living room.

Once he caught sight of you, his eyes softened. Cleaning the dried blood off his hands, he stepped closer to you, cupping your face.

On impulse, you stepped back. He seemed visibly hurt by your reaction. He never wanted you to be scared of him.

Instead he held his hand out. "Come sit, Doll"

Upon taking it, he led you to the sofa. Still holding your hand, he faced you.

"I told you I was dangerous, love. There's people out there who want me dead, to hurt the people I love to make me suffer. I can't let you go home alone anymore."

You were confused. "I'm sure you could find someone else to nanny Lily if I die. She's still young after all."

He looked deep into your eyes with nothing but adoration.

"Darling, it's not just Lily. I couldn't lose you."

His confession flustered you. Turning red and shifting slightly to avoid his intense gaze.

He cupped your jaw, turning you back to face him. He was handsome, refined, intelligent. His large and built frame, soft and hypnotic eyes, shaped and pristine beard. Everything in you was screaming. Deep down you harboured feelings for him. But he was your boss, a mafia lord. You never could've imagined him feeling the same way about you.

"Doll... come back to me."

His voice knocked you out of your trance. God knows how long you were staring.

"You understand why I can't let you go home alone anymore, don't you?"

All you could do is nod dumbly. You didn't trust your voice.

"Excellent. Go upstairs, you know which ones mine. Get yourself settled."

"Where will you sleep? And what about my things?"

"We can go collect your things tomorrow." Putting his hand on your lower back, steering you towards the stairs. "Lets get you settled and I need change into something with a little less blood." Chuckling lightly.

You let yourself be led towards Prices bedroom. Still light-headed from the shocking revelations you've been told.

You enter the room, immediately inhaling the scent. Just like Price. The room was large, lived-in but still tidy.

Grabbing two sets of fresh clothing, Price hands you a shirt and a pair of boxers. His clothes. Before heading to the ensuit to change himself.

Once out of view, you bring the shirt to your nose, vanilla and sandalwood. Comforting, safe yet authoritative. You could get use to this.

Stepping out of the ensuite, you took in the large and very shirtless man. He was well groomed and sculpted in all the right places.

"Hey, Doll." Again, dragging you back to the real world with his deep and gravely voice. "Go get changed."

You stood, his bed was comfortable. "But Mr Price-"

"John. Call me John, Love. Get dressed now, questions later." He pulled you into a hug by the arms, pressing his lips to your forehead in a feather-light kiss.

As you were changing, you thought to yourself. This man is dangerous. He has an army of men under his control and he kills to satisfy his hunger for power. But that's Mr Price. John is caring, loving, attentive.

As you exit, you see him laid on the bed. He looked so relaxed, peaceful. Upon hearing you, he got up and ushered you under the covers. You went without argument, feeling exhausted after the days events.

He turned to leave but didn't get far before you called out to him.

"Stay?"

"Always."

He hopped into the bed next to you, you curled up to him, resting your cheek to his chest. You felt safe in his arms. Protected. He would make sure no harm would ever come to you. He would burn the world down to see you smile.

[anonymous-dentist]

saw that you had some discussion about the pepito retconning and otipep. i was very surprised to see people hating it so much, and am disappointed by it being retconned.

i read the situation as pepito throwing a tantrum, because pepito is a small child and small children do stuff like that all the time. not pepito not actually wanting roier as a parent. little kids are dramatic all the time.

otipep does not exist and never existed, regardless of retcon. it was the explanation roier made to explain to himself why his child was having a tantrum because he wasn’t in a place where he could deal with it. it’s not reality, they’re not separate characters. it’s just pepito.

You see, the thing about Otipep is that he directly insulted the streamer, and he refuse to "Yes-And" with him, and that's the number one thing in any kind of improv storytelling. They were a different admin from what the audience and Roier were used to, and that's fine, we're used to it. What isn't fine is that Otipep refused to work with Roier and insulted him and ignored him and walked away every time ccRoier tried explaining what he and Admin 07's Pepito had been doing for the past few days. Call it a tantrum, that's fine, but it's also a dick move when it's your literal job to work with the streamers to tell a story. Look at the way other eggs have thrown tantrums, and then look at Otipep.

You'll be hard-pressed to find a Hispanic fan that actually liked the Otipep Day and that's because Otipep came in and immediately and actively destroyed days' worth of storytelling and wrecked a cc's attempts at a story to the point of the cc giving up on the rp for the day and going to build and even getting off the server a little earlier than planned because like? Okay? Sure, destroy yet another one of Roier's planned Lores, it's not like people have been doing that since the first week of the server.

The only people that I've seen defending Otipep at all have been English-Onlies who saw Otipep's English sign and bed basically screaming to the world "ROIER IS A TERRIBLE FATHER AND SOMEONE NEEDS TO ADOPT ME! PREFERABLY SOMEONE WHO SPEAKS ENGLISH BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT I TYPED THIS SIGN IN! NOT THE LANGUAGE ANY OF MY PARENTS SPEAK!"

And what happened after people saw that sign? Well, English fans all went "Well this obviously proves that Roier is a terrible father and that Bad should adopt Pepito instead. He's been a bad father all along, and he's just as evil and insane as Cellbit is." This, in turn, started the process of the Hispanic fandom yet again losing a character on the server; at this point, it's legit just Roier and Quackity because Pol isn't allowed online for Lore Reasons and qMaxo is dead and everybody else just doesn't log on as often. Do you see the problem here?

Roier describing Otipep to Richarlyson legit made Richas' admin go "WHAT????" because that was Not professional behavior on Otipep's Admin's part. And that's the biggest thing here, I think: the lack of professionalism at play when you're hired to play your part and work with people "in the spotlight" (aka the streamers) but you aren't cooperating at all. It's like going to work at a grocery store and being told you're working the registers that day and going "No, actually, I'm going to stock shelves". You don't do that at work, and you definitely don't do that live on stream in front of 10k+ viewers.

I work in childcare. I know a tantrum when I see it, and Otipep could be seen as one. But you have to keep in mind the meta aspects here and think, wow, this is fucked up from a meta perspective! Going out of your way to ruin the fun of someone else just because you want the story to go a certain way? Not to be tolerated in any kind of collaborative setting. My dnd groups have kicked people from the table for less.

It got to the point where Quackity himself has to say it isn't canon, and, well. I think we can see that there was a genuine problem.

[crinklecries]

realized I never posted one of my ficlet requests here, so here u go.

fandom: Twisted Wonderland prompt: anything with azul and jamil’s fucked up friend???ship (aka azuls big fat crush) word count: 852

Jamil didn’t expect the dreams.

He didn’t expect the way they would haunt him— cling to him like ichorous sludge, leaving him gasping for air between silent screaming in the dead of night. Jamil didn’t expect the way it would replay in his head— over and over and over and over again— the euphoric feeling of phenomenal cosmic power at his fingertips, and the hollow, vacuous way he felt once it was stolen back from him.

A week to the day, and Jamil’s dreams are still imprinted with the sin of his overblot.

So he sleeps as little as possible, tossing and turning in a sea of over-stuffed pillows, simply passing the time from day to day.

Pressing the heels of his palms against bloodshot eyes, Jamil offers an exhausted glance outside his bedroom window. The desert sky is still painted with a midnight navy, and he can tell that the sun’s rising is still a few hours off. He sighs. No, it’s still too early to leave his room. An appearance this early in the morning would raise an unneeded concern— and the last thing Jamil needs now is more attention.

The sudden, soft tapping at Jamil’s door ripples through his body like ice water through his veins. He sits up, careful to make as little noise as possible, and waits. It’s too early for Kalim to be awake, and his master has been adamant that none of the other boys in the dorm bother Jamil while he’s resting. A beat passes, and Jamil can hear the distinct noise of the doorknob twisting.

He tenses, like a cornered cobra coiled to strike, but before he can move, the intruder makes himself known.

“Ah, you’re awake.” Azul’s voice drifts in softly from the threshold. “Excellent, I’ve a terrible time sneaking about in the dark— on land, at least.”

“Then perhaps you should take that as a sign to not go sneaking into other people’s rooms.” Jamil deadpans, rolling the building irritation out of his shoulders with a huff. “You could start with leaving mine.”

“Of course, I—” There’s a notable hesitance in Azul’s voice, a hitch that Jamil immediately clocks as the merman shuffles properly into the room, shutting the door tightly behind him. “I only thought you should eat something. Or— drink, if we’re arguing semantics.”

There’s a quiet click of a lamp, and the room floods with a soft glow. Jamil scowls at Azul, who still stands awkwardly pressed against the door. Azul smiles— or, tries to— and holds up his offering against the light.

“A smoothie.” Jamil eyes the bright green liquid with suspicion.

“Yes. A mixture of seaweed, rooibos tea, licorice root, a few other things…it’s one of Jade’s concoctions,” then, as if noticing the way Jamil frowns again and tenses, “ah- but I made this one myself. I can assure you it’s safe.”

“And I’m sure you know exactly how little your assurance means to me.”

The two boys stare at each other in silence for what feels like eons. Azul fidgets, just slightly, but enough for someone as practiced at perfecting body language as Jamil to notice. Ashengrotto’s lips part and he furrows his brows.

“I…had trouble sleeping— after.” Azul’s gaze drops suddenly to the ground and it takes Jamil very little time to realize exactly what ‘after’ Azul is referring to. The housewarden’s voice is timid, almost anxious, but still, he continues.“ Every time I closed my eyes for… weeks, it was all the same. Playing over and over again in my mind. It was exhausting.”

Jamil arches an eyebrow, but doesn’t speak outright. The weight of how own exhaustion settles heavier upon his shoulders, and it’s all he can do to not yawn right there and then.

“Anyway—” Azul clears his throat, and Jamil pretends not to notice the way it cracks as he does so, pretends not to notice the way that glassy eyes gleam behind the spectacles as Azul draws his gaze back up to meet Jamil’s. “This helped. After a while, I was sleeping again and, after even longer the dreams stopped being so bad…I apologize if my presence is as unwanted as you said, I only thought this may be of some use to you as well.”

Azul nods once, setting the drink on the table by Jamil’s door. He inhales deeply, through his nose, and, almost as if trying to compose himself, Azul straightens his already immaculate bowtie and pushes his glasses up further on the bridge of his nose.

“—do you still have them?” Jamil blurts the question before he can stop himself, and Azul looks nearly as stunned as Jamil feels. “The dreams.”

“Sometimes.” His confession is gentle— pained— and almost too quiet for Jamil to make out. “I don’t know that they’ll ever really go away. But… they’re a good reminder.”

“Of?”

“To lean on those around me. On those who would offer up their care, despite everything. It’s…difficult, to say the least.” Azul brings his hand up to not quite cover a deprecating laugh. “But I’m trying. That’s really all we can do, isn't it?”

[deansmom]

listen it’s 2021, nobody can yell at me for my Hot Takes on the w*nchester bros and specifically sam because none of you care about me anymore lmao

and no, I will not be responding to defenses of these things, I just want to yell about this because I can’t stop thinking about it now

I don’t think anything demon!dean said to sam was out of line, not really, because like yeah, it was mean whatever, but sam has said WAY crueler things to and about dean when he was just a normal human person. but dean gets crucified for being a demon and fully expressing himself and his trauma and his feelings? nah fuck that lmao

I’m up to s8 in my rewatch and it’s absolutely wild to me how sam STILL thinks he’s better than dean. not only does he still somehow think he’s smarter, but he also thinks he’s BETTER than dean. that dean’s like, a bad person or whatever - as if both of them aren’t mass murderers ffs

this mans really said “I don’t know if my brother is alive or dead...... hm sucks for him I guess lol.” like yeah, sure, trauma, whatever. everybody handles and processes trauma differently, I know, but seriously sam??? sure, take a couple months if you need it, but just - no effort? didn’t even try? didn’t even do a quick google search? 

just fucking ditched kevin, a SIXTEEN YEAR OLD KID, and then got mad at dean when dean was like “dude wtf is the matter with you this kid was our responsibility” 

fandom ALWAYS wants to talk about how dean’s the more toxic one but damn, dean gets one friend - his first friend who isn’t cas!!! - and sam’s like “lmao this dude has to die” LITERALLY ONLY BECAUSE DEAN KILLED AMY, WHO WAS KILLING INNOCENT PEOPLE (for a good reason, sure, but like, she was still killing innocent people and benny’s out here just minding his own business, stealing AB- negative blood because they can get blood transfusions from any negative blood type!! his old ass wasn’t hurting anybody) and the episode before sam finds out about benny they let kate go be a werewolf and then when dean mentions that to sam about benny he’s like “so?! she was a victim!” and he’s like “and benny hasn’t done anything wrong!” and sam just doesn’t give a shit lmao

he ALWAYS bitches about how dean doesn’t trust him and I’m just sitting here like??? damn bro I WONDER FUCKING WHY. sam only takes responsibility for his actions when it’s convenient for him, generally when he’s being portrayed as the victim, and it!!!!!! [screams into a pillow]

dean’s like “he’s never given me a reason to doubt him” (about benny) and sam immediately goes “well it must be nice to find that” and dean takes a second to figure out what sam’s talking about and it’s just like WOW, didn’t fucking mean it like that, but yeah IT IS NICE SAM TO HAVE A FRIEND THAT THUS FAR HASN’T BETRAYED ME, IT’S A GOOD FEELING like tf is the matter with you dude come on

OH OH OH and when dean came back from hell in s4 sam’s going around like “dean’s weak he can’t handle it” but doesn’t try to help his brother?????? doesn’t offer him emotional support or validation or anything that you should offer someone who’s just been through something profoundly traumatic and is ~*~struggling~*~ to keep themselves afloat. 

listen dean certainly isn’t an unproblematic saint in this relationship specifically, but sam is SO MEAN??? ALL THE TIME??? and I know it’s because especially in the early seasons he associates dean with his dad and him and john never got along because they were too much alike, blah blah blah, whatever,  it’s still not cool to project your trauma onto other people and take it out on them. 

will I ever be over 9.13? no. no I will not, because that was the cruelest thing that could have maybe ever been said to dean, and yeah again, trauma, whatever, but like......... if you’ve been traumatized and your response is to purposefully emotionally devastate someone that you know 1) had no malicious intentions and 2) is emotionally unstable and perpetually suicidal, I’m allowed to hate you wtf??? 

sam knows NOTHING about his brother. 

like ok in the fic that I’ve been writing somebody was like “it’s very in character but edgier but dean didn’t hate john” and listen, I TRULY think that dean hated him in canon. yeah, even in s1. watch 2.01 again, watch the episode where john is possessed by azazel, the dream root episode, I think it’s 12.22 that speech with mary, but like, especially on my rewatch, I cannot read their relationship as anything other than at that point neither one of them liked each other. something happened in between sam leaving and dean coming to get him, and dean went searching for john out of obligation and an excuse to see sam. 

you can’t convince me that john liked dean. of course he loved him, a familial obligation was deeply ingrained in that man, but I don’t think he liked dean at all. I think dean reminded him of mary, I think he thought dean was too soft, and to be completely honest, I don’t think he liked that dean listened to him so easily. john wanted to be in charge, obviously, but he’s such an antagonistic fuck always looking for a fight with somebody, that it probably bothered him that dean didn’t really push back. john didn’t think he was assertive enough, dean just didn’t want to be used as a punching bag, and I’ve always figured there was some sort of blowout after sam left between the two of them and they didn’t really talk much after that. “it was the worst night of my life” is what dean called the night sam left for stanford, and while his little brother leaving would’ve been devastating, I don’t think that alone would qualify it (in season 5, mind you, after hell and the hellhounds and everything) as the worst night of his life. I also think that’s why john was such a POS in s1 when they found him, giving dean shit for the impala, y’know. god, I really fucking hate him lmao

nobody seems to agree with me on this, but sam is very much his father’s son, and that’s why they never got along. the two of them were so much alike (and so self-centered) that they couldn’t help but butt heads together because they both wanted to be the center of attention, and also just enjoy picking fights. and like, I think this is a big reason why dean has a harder time being honest with sam than sam has with being honest with dean. because dean sees john when he looks at sam, and sam just sees dean. and sam’s like “why don’t you talk to me dean” and dean probably just hears his dad making fun of him for being honest or talking about his feelings or yelling at him. 

familial/generational trauma genuinely makes it hard to interact in meaningful and productive ways, I get it, believe me I do, but sam is just so... cruel sometimes? and I think dean really worked his way through a solid portion of that trauma by the end of the show, and I don’t think sam ever really did.

Dean: All right, you want to be honest? If the situation were reversed and I was dying, you'd do the same thing.

SAM [very softly]: No, Dean. I wouldn't. Same circumstances...I wouldn't. I'm gonna get to bed.

see, when I say sam is cruel, this is the shit I’m talking about because that is a bald faced lie and sam knows it. he said it specifically to hurt dean. he didn’t mean it, and he fucking knows that, but he knows that it will devastate dean to hear that, so he says it. 

anyways, sam fights dirty all the time. it’s 2024 now and I have no notes for past me, she was right. 

[etherealforever234]

I am doing this again because there is nOT ENOUGH APPRECIATION FOR TGESE AMAZING WRITERS IN OUR FANDOM.

So I did a part 1 but I didn’t include all the ones I wanted since it got too long jsskkskskskdksnxk sooooooo here’s a part 2 of all the fics which absolutely PLAGUE my mind and you NEED to check these out and show them your love!! I have said this before I’ll say it again telling writers you like their writing with just a simple reblog or a good comment MATTERS so much more than you know. So I better see you guys showering writers with love on their fics! While I did make this for myself because I’m building a little ✨collection✨ I hope this helps anyone who’s looking for more fics to read!!!

(Minors this is your cue to not be anywhere around here if I see you interacting I’ll tell yo mama!)

Recs under the cut <3

Her body is Bible by @superblysubpar - DEAD. ASCENDED TO ANOTHER PLANE. MET GOD. DIED. BROUGHT BACK TO LIFE JESUS STYLE. LOST ALL COHERENCE FOR A GOOD FEW DAYS. (18+)

Amuse and romance me like you do by @heartthrobinsfics - I have re-read this whole fic from start to finish so many times dkksckkxmfkdkckdkf the slow burn was really slow burning and ACCURACY in characterisation Family Video Steve has alllllll my heart

Single thread part 1 part 2 part 3 by @headkiss - Spiderman AU Steve I love you so much it hurts! The slow burn is so fkskfkskfkskdkskxkdkdkkdkckfkfskdkxkfk! And he’s just so 🥺 ahhhhh OBSESSED with this whole Universe! (18+)

Rules are meant to be broken by @funnylittlelad - I read this whole series on AO3 and my GOD this deserves so much more love!!!! The complicated relationships with parents the angst is so delicious I am in LOVE with this.

This blurb by @stevebabey - The way I have NEVER felt more represented as I was here. Being a #losergf is a tough job but someone’s gotta do it

If you loved me, why’d you leave me part 1 part 2 by @1986harrington - I have to say reading the first part actually made me wanna lie down in the rain for like a couple of hours because the ANGST🤌🏻🤌🏻🤌🏻 and the SMUT in the second part lordtttt (18+)

how could i say goodbye? by @hawkinsquarry - The way this fic made me WEEP. I love it when people make Steve actually process any of his trauma but him being needy after the events of S4 was so ON POINT. Fuck this hurt. So good!

Beyond part 1 by @abibliophobiaa - The way I start SHAKINH AND SCREAMING AND CRUONH AND YHEOWINH UP when I start thinking about this series sjkdxkdkxkfk fake marriage AU will always have a place near and dear in my heart and with Steve??? DEAD.

Chateau, Careless whispers part 1 part 2 by @kurtie4life96 - Sugar Daddy Steve can be something so incredibly personal to #girlies (me) OBSESSED with thiskdkskfmdkdkdk the smut made the wires in my brain unwire (18+)

Burning by @lis-likes-fics - ABSOLUTELY INSANE actually. CRAZY. MIND DESTROYING. NERVES IMPLODING. KILLED ME. The plot with porn can be so personal to me FUCKING GOD. (18+)

Pray for the night by @upsidedownwithsteve - Call me a whore but I LOOOOOOVE me some “we almost died so let’s fuck each other’s brains out because we’re alive and we want to feel something” 😌😇 (18+)

Pride and Prejudice and Peanut Butter Sundaes by @starryeyedstories - The enemies to lovers of it all kskskskskskdks THE TWIST OF P&P WITH STEVE HARRINGTON REST ASSURE THIS IS CLOSE TO MY HEARTTTTT! This is so freaking goodkskskskskskskx

Meet me at the chateau by @theemporium - I think about this fic so much and it's been MONTHS but I will make it a pOINT to re-read it because this is just absolute perfection ugh sjkskdkskdkksdkjsdjkddk! (18+)

Puppy by @lovebugism - Sub!Steve you’ll always be famous! This made me so dizzy gAWD. Can't believe this isn't my life. So unfair. Looooooooooooove this! (18+)

[ghuleh-witch]

And We Are Tied As One Eternally-XI

Fandom: Ghost Rating: Explicit Warnings: assault Relationships: Papa Emeritus IV/Copia x OFC Additional Tags: soft!dom Copia, eventual smut, developing relationship, kind of a slow burn, no beta reader Summary: Ellie Moran just wanted to make a new life for herself. Running to escape the people in her past, she ends up in a small town in the middle of nowhere that happens to be home to a Satanic church. She never expected her life to change again after she started attending the public masses at said church.

Ao3 || Masterlist Chapters: 11/? Previous Chapters Tag list: @sodoswitchimage Fic Divider by gothdaddyissues

She was bent over that masked freak when Ethan stepped over the threshold of her bedroom. He holstered the gun he used to knock the freak out. Ethan didn’t want to scare Ellie and a gun would scare her. 

Ethan took a second to look her over. She was just as beautiful as the night he met her at that party. She’d be just as easy too. It’s been almost ten years since she was last with anyone. He was her first and only and he’d keep it that way. It was so easy to follow her for all these years from place to place. Did she forget he was going to school for computer science and knew how to hack? He’d been able to get into her bank account and track down exactly where she was moving about. Despite her stupidity, she would have made the perfect wife and mother if she hadn’t ruined it for the both of them. He would make sure she paid for that before he took her back. He’d make her his perfect woman then.

Ethan pulled himself from his thoughts. He had to be quick now. He leaned over and in a matter of microseconds, grabbed Ellie around the shoulders and pulled her away.

Ellie felt someone grab her from behind and she screamed before a hand came over her mouth to quiet her.

“Shhhh, it’s okay,” Ethan’s voice sounded. “It’s only me babe.” 

Ellie thrashed against him, trying to bite at his fingers, but he squeezed her so tight she felt the air leave her lungs. Every cell in her body was screaming at her to fight as years of memories came flooding back to her. She wouldn’t let him take what she was building there. Her thoughts raced between Ethan, Swiss, and Copia. Was Swiss dead? Would Aether get there in time? How long would it be before Copia realized she was missing? Would Copia look for her? 

“I don’t know why you’re struggling so much. You know you can’t escape. I’ve always been much stronger than you,” Ethan said, sounding irritated as he tightened his grip around her again. “Come this way, babe.” He said leading her toward her bedroom. Inside Ellie saw a black duffle bag on her bed. It was open, showing off the rope, duck tape, and a box of bullets.

Fuck he has a gun, Ellie thought as she continued to struggle. “I’m going to move my hand from your mouth. Don’t scream or make things difficult.” He said hotly in her ear, one hand reaching from the rope in the bag. He then removed his hand and went to grab her wrists. 

Ellie took advantage of being free for a moment and screamed. “Swiss!” 

“You dumb bitch,” Ethan hissed whipping her around and grabbing her face, his finger pinching into her cheeks so hard she couldn’t move her jaw. “What did I just say?”

He heard his name being screamed and it snapped him out of unconsciousness.

Swiss groaned and got up. He felt hot remnants of blood on his neck. Ethan had somehow got the jump on him, posing as a package delivery person before forcing his way into the apartment with a gun. Before Swiss knew it, he felt a sharp pain on the back of his head and he was out. 

“You dumb bitch! What did I just say?” Came a gruff male voice.

Oh fuck, Swiss thought before sending out an SOS signal through the pack bond. He felt Aether respond and then materialize next to him. The two ghouls looked at one another and nodded.

“Ellie,” Swiss called out as he and Aether charged towards the bedroom. The need to protect their Papa’s mate overwhelmed them as all hell broke loose. 

Ellie saw Swiss and Aether come into the room. She wasn’t sure how Aether got there so fast, but Ellie wasn’t going to ask questions. Everything was happening in slow motion. Ethan turned towards the door upon hearing footsteps. Aether charged at Ethan knocking him into the wall as Swiss pulled Ellie out of the path of destruction before joining the fray. She watched as Aether bent Ethan’s arm in an unnatural angle and there was a snap of bone. Ethan cried out, trying his best to fight back, but Aether was stronger. Swiss pinned Ethan to the wall and let out a menacing growl.

Ellie thought she felt a breeze flow through her apartment. When she looked around for the source of the air, she saw something out of the corner of her eye. She turned back to the struggle and gasped. Swiss had a brown-colored spaded tail that was lashing back and forth. Ellie then looked at Aether. He had a tail too except his was a shade of gray. I’m going insane, she thought. Ethan is torturing me right now and I’m losing my mind and imagining all this.

All of a sudden darkness filled the apartment. It was so dark she couldn’t even see the hand she was waving in front of her face. If her heart wasn’t slapping against her chest, she would have thought she was dead for a moment. There were hands on her arms, holding her gently in place. Ellie didn’t know how, but she knew it was Swiss holding onto her as she heard Aether and Ethan struggling. Then there was a deafening roar and Ellie had to clamp her hands over her ears and clenched her unseeing eyes shut. It felt like her head was going to explode from the intensity.

When silence fell, Ellie opened her eyes and her apartment was light again. She saw Aether standing in the corner where he and Ethan were struggling. The tail that Ellie had seen was gone, but so was Ethan.

“W-where did he go?” Ellie asked, whipping around as though he were going to jump out of her closet.

“He’s gone,” Aether said. “He’s never coming back.”

“Excuse me?” Ellie sputtered. “What do you mean he’s gone? Did you kill him? Why did it go dark? What was that roar?”

“I think you better call Papa,” Swiss said to Aether from behind Ellie. “He’s going to need to explain all this.”

“Explain what?” Ellie asked, eyes wide and panic coursing through her. “What’s going on? What are you two?”

“Papa will explain everything.” 

Ellie wasn’t sure how much time had passed. Swiss had guided her into her living room and sat her down on her orange couch. He went to her kitchen pulled a bottle of water out of the fridge, opened it, and handed it to her.

“Drink. You’re in shock,” he said.

Ellie didn’t remember taking a drink, her mind trying to comprehend everything that just happened. Tails, darkness, roaring, and Ethan was just gone. Poof. Like magic. 

Demons, Ellie thought. They’re demons and Copia is their…leader? But Copia wasn’t a demon. Was he? No, he couldn’t be, Ellie reassured herself. He was human, just like her. 

The next thing Ellie remembered was Copia sitting on the couch next to her.

“Cara, are you okay?” He asked, his voice sounding frantic. “Copia?” She asked, looking over at him, confused as to when he got there. Had she been that lost in her head? 

“Are you okay?” He asked again, more urgently this time.

“I’m fine,” Ellie said. “What’s going on.”

“Grazie a Satana (Thank Satan),” he muttered. “I’m so glad you’re alright. When the ghouls called I thought…well it doesn’t matter. I know you have questions, a lot of questions, and you don’t understand what you saw and experienced.”

“Yeah, I have questions. They have tails and made my ex just vanish,” Ellie said pointing to the ghouls. 

“Yes,” Copia said simply and to the point.

“What are they?” Ellie asked.

“The ghouls are just that, ghouls. They are lower demons the Papas have summoned from Hell to help around the church and with the Ghost project. Every clergy member, every Sibling of Sin is sworn to secrecy about the real nature of the ghouls,” Copia said. “And now I need you to swear you will never tell anyone what they are.”

“I-I won’t,” Ellie said as her mind grappled with what she was just told. “Despite me not understanding any of this, I don’t want them to be captured and experimented on like lab mice.” 

Copia nodded. “Thank you, cara,” he said. “What you saw today, the blackness, the roars, the sudden appearance of Aether, and the disappearance of Ethan, that was all from the powers the ghouls have. They are blessed with infernal magics and use them when needed. They sent your former fiance to the Pit.”

“Hell?” Ellie questioned.

“Si, basically,” Copia answered. “He will never harm you again.”

“But what if people come looking for him?”

“The ghouls are already taking care of that as we speak,” Copia said. “Cumulus and Cirrus are wiping memories and Dew, Aurora, Rain, and Phantom are making it look like Ethan went for a hike and had a tragic accident.” 

��Faking his death?” Ellie asked.

“Si .”

“And that’s it?” Ellie asked slowly. “He’s just gone?” It all seemed to be over so quickly and easily.

“Forever. He will be punished for his abuse towards you.” 

Ellie chewed on her lip. It was over—just like that it was over. She was free. She’d never have to move again. She’d never have to look over her shoulder and wonder if she’d been found. Ethan was gone, never to bother her or torment her. How did she get off that easy? 

You’re welcome, a voice in her head said, and Ellie didn’t understand it.

“I–” Ellie began. “I don’t know what to say…none of this makes sense.” 

“I know,” Copia said. “Do you have any questions?”

“Only a million of them,” Ellie huffed. “You’re human though, right?”

“Si, I am human,” Copia answered. “Just a human that’s been blessed by the Olde One.” 

“Blessed how?” Ellie asked slowly.

“Infernal sight, for one,” Copia said gesturing to his white eye. “We can see into the Pit to communion with our Lord, and we can see the dead, eh, well the ones that chose to be seen that is. And we can summon ghouls, and demons, and all that other shit….You’re taking this surprisingly well.”

Ellie couldn’t help but laugh. “I mean…I already believe crystals can protect me,” she said gesturing to her necklace. “What’s some magic and demons on top of that.” 

“She’s still in shock,” Aether said.

“I know,” Copia responded, glancing over to the ghouls. “You two can go. Make sure everyone is updated on what’s going on.”

“What do you want us to tell Sister Imperator if she comes looking for you?” Swiss asked.

“Just…Just tell her I had to run out and get the rats more food,” Copia said shrugging. 

The ghouls nodded and with a shimmer of light, they vanished.

“Not going to get used to that,” Ellie muttered, her eyes still on the spot where the ghouls stood just seconds before. 

“Between you and me, I’m not even used to it. It’s-eh-kind of weird,” Copia admitted. “Let me go tidy up your room and then I will get you something to eat,” he said. He turned to walk to her bedroom before stopping and bending down to pick up the discarded garment bag. “Your Samhain dress?”

Ellie nodded. She’d forgotten all about the dress and the fun outing she and Gemma had.

He nodded as well before taking the dress into the bedroom. She heard him open her closet to store the dress inside. A few minutes and some shuffling around later, Copia was coming out of Ellie’s room. “Alright,” he said to himself going into her kitchen and looking through the refrigerator and practically empty cabinets. “Right, I will order us a pizza.” 

After a quick phone call to a local pizza joint, Copia was sitting back down next to Ellie. Ellie rubbed at her eyes and sighed. Her head felt like it was going to explode from the amount of information that was just dropped on her.

“So the ghouls are lesser demons,” she said, repeating the information as though it would make better sense to her. “That work for you and the church and they have magic. You and your brothers are blessed by Satan with certain gifts. My ex is now gone and the ghouls just made all my problems disappear into thin air. Am I missing anything?”

“I think you’ve summed it all up,” Copia said. 

“I feel like everything I’ve known is a lie,” Ellie said. “Wait…if Satan and Hell and demons are all real then God and all that is real too then?”

“Yes.”

“Oh…” Ellie groaned. “I’m definitely going to Hell then.” She spent the better part of a decade convincing herself that God wasn't real, that she wasn't going to Hell for her sins, and that everything she was manipulated into believing was false. Now everything she was just told—just saw confirmed that God, Satan, Heaven, and Hell were indeed real. Ellie felt her palms begin to sweat as her anxiety spiked.

“Hell is not a bad place. It’s just another afterlife.”

Ellie put her hands over her face and groaned again. “I can’t deal with this.” She knew she was going to need to talk to her therapist after this. But how would she do that without giving up the church's secrets and without sounding like she would need to be institutionalized?

 She felt Copia rest a hand on her knee and squeeze it. “It’s overwhelming, I know,” he said. “But you just need to take this one step, one day at a time. It’s okay to not understand everything all at once. You don’t have to go through all this alone. I’m here to help you.” 

She was grateful for that, but she didn’t think he really understood how she felt at that exact moment. He had years and years to process all this hidden knowledge that had been dropped on her in seconds. “This is a lot to take in, Copia.” 

“I know.” There was a pause and then he spoke again. “You-eh-Do you want me to go?”

Ellie dropped her hands and looked at him. “No,” she said quickly. “No, please stay.” Despite everything, she didn’t want him to go. She needed him here. She didn’t want to be left alone to deal with everything. Despite everything, so still wanted him in her life and wanted to be part of the Ministry. The feeling of belonging felt too good and too right to abandon everything because of some stuff she didn’t understand. 

Copia gave her a hint of a smile and took her hand. “I will stay then.”

[ichinoue]

Honey I mean this with all due respect, but your argument with the Japanese fandom about the lust arc didn't hit the jackpot like you thought it would.

As a Japanese speaker who's been frequent with the Japanese fandom, I can assure u not all Japanese fans think he rose from the dead for her. I don't know why you think using the opinion of other ichihime fans proves anything, but it doesn't. They are just like you and are obviously biased towards their ship. Japanese ichihime fans are no different from western ichihime fans and share the opinions you guys do, it's the same with the lust arc. They think ichigo rose from the dead for orihime; they just don't omit a random her kanji to do so.

If u ask an ichiruki in the Japanese fandom about what they thought, you best believe they tell you the same thing that western IRs tell you. Again I mean this with all due respect, ship and think what you want, but the arguement that since Japanese ichihimes think that ichigo rose for orihime and that because they're Japanese, theyre correct and you cant argue with them- makes no sense.

Have a good day, morning, evening or night.

Anonymous asked: I'd also like to add on that most the submissions from Japanese fans that you showed were in third person, since ichigo did rise for her, he just didn't know they were her screams. Again I do speak Japanese myself, (I actually am japanese) and have interacted with the fandom many glorious times. I and many other Japanese fans saw it the same way western irs do, the opinions of other ichihimes from the Japanese fandom doesn't prove anything, they are also ichihime shippers, just Japanese.

That wasn't my argument. That was a post someone anonymously submitted to my blog, that I added no commentary to. So you sending me this message didn't "hit the jackpot" like you thought it would lmao.

It's an interesting post, sure, and a fun look back at the forums from the old fandom days. But it's not needed to prove that Ichigo rose up from the dead for Orihime. The manga already did that, as well as the databook.

You say you don't know why I think the opinion of other IchiHime fans proves anything...but yet you're using the opinions of IchiRuki fans, as if that proves anything? You say you don't know why I would listen to Japanese IchiHime fans, but yet you think I should listen to you and Japanese and/or western IchiRuki fans? You think IchiHime shippers being biased means their interpretations hold no weight, as if IchiRuki shippers aren't just as biased?

Both sides are biased. But being biased doesn't mean you can't also be right. And in this case, only one side was consistently proven right in their interpretations, and that's the IchiHime side.

So I wonder whose opinions and interpretations I should consider more highly: my own, as well as those of my fellow IchiHime shippers who were proven right in interpreting Ichigo and Orihime's relationship the way Kubo meant for it to be interpreted, as an intended romantic pairing. Or...the IchiRuki shippers who were proven wrong about...literally everything to do with the ships in Bleach lmao.

Tough call!

To be frank, the opinions/interpretations of IchiRuki shippers hold very little weight to me, especially after how badly they were proven wrong. Like, embarrassingly wrong. I never gave their opinion much credence before the manga’s end, and rightly so. So why would I listen to them now? That would be like me copying off of the paper of someone who has failed every test lmao.

You people keep coming into my inbox to try to tell me how wrong you think we IchiHime shippers are. What you don't seem to have grasped is that IchiHime shippers don't need ichirukis to "approve" of our interpretations. Your approval doesn't matter. We already have all the validation we need from the sources that actually matter: the manga and Kubo himself.

My day has been pretty great so far, but thanks for the well wishes.

[sezja]

Febuwhump Day 4: Obedience Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV Characters/Ship: Raicheille Lhorulgois Triggers/Content warnings: Child abuse

Takes place one year after Silenced.

"Stand still," Mother snaps, swatting Raicheille's shoulder as though she's an insect in need of a good squishing. "And stop slouching, girl! You've no figure yet to speak of; we must pin all of our hopes on your face. Gods help us."

I inherited it from you, you old sow, she doesn't dare say, straightening her shoulders even further, stretching her spine until it creaks. Her new dress clings in uncomfortable places, telling earnest but unconvincing lies about the shape of her beneath it. As though anyone would believe it. Her betrothed-to-be will be a fellow wildwood, of course, and everyone knows elezen don't begin properly growing until their twentieth year, give or take.

At fifteen summers, she feels like a dodo pretending to be a chocobo.

"You will be gracious," Father says. His voice is cold, stern, as though she's one of his hired lances. "You will speak only when it is required of you, or you will suffer the consequences of your disobedience."

She fights the urge to shudder.

There's every reason the new dress covers her from the neck down, hiding the bruises and welts she's earned over the past year.

Nourval wouldn't let them do this to me.

"Do not bite your lip," Mother snaps again, seizing Raicheille's chin between cruel fingers, not quite hard enough to bruise. "Do not sulk at your father, you ungrateful trollop; were it not for your interference, none of this would be necessary! Your uncle had it all well in hand!"

"Yes- yes, Mother."

Had it all well in hand is, Rai thinks, a very diplomatic way to describe the attempted murder of an officer of the Twin Adder, in an effort to frame visiting Ala Mhigan diplomats for the crime - it'd been her interference, yes, that'd alerted Captain Smyth to the plot. But she'd only ever wanted her brother to be freed from prison; beyond that, she hadn't really cared what became of it all. Not really.

She hasn't seen Nourval since. Her last memory of her brother is of him lying half-dead in the tall grass, and Captain Smyth sending her dashing off for a healer.

He's alive, at least. She knows that much. If her parents would let him see her...

But no. They'd told the Adders charming lies, pleading their ignorance, pleading their innocence, and so Raicheille was returned to the loving arms of her parents. If only someone had thought to ask her what her parents might have known... but who ever cared what one scrawny girl knew?

Captain Sanson cared, she thinks, idly, fighting the urge to rub her throbbing jaw while her parents aren't looking.

Today is her chance at redemption, her parents have told her, endlessly, for the past week. Marriage is a time-honored contract, sealing alliances between the families of Gridania's oldest families - those who long for the old ways, before Gridania opened her gates to outsiders; before Ala Mhigo brought war to her doorstep and pushed Gridania to the brink. Before Vainchelon's death. Rai has known all her life that she'd be handed over into the keeping of some tradition-minded man or other...

But that was before she knew the truth about it all.

Now she wants to run screaming into the Shroud, hopefully to be eaten by some wild beast - better that than being married off to some other hateful bastard who who only wants to rekindle old wars.

The one they've picked for her is nearly thrice her age: a grizzled veteran of the Old Guard, known to have a firm hand with his servants. The Matron knows he's likely to see her as little better than a servant; she expects she'll be lucky to see the sun more than once a moon - she'll be kept under lock and key, seen but not heard, her value proven only in the production of sons to bear arms-

I'd rather just get eaten.

"Come, girl," Father says, snapping his fingers like she's one of his hunting hounds. Mother places an ungentle hand on her back, guiding her forward like a prisoner who can't be trusted to follow obediently.

It's more apt than it ought to be.

[iwonderwh0]

I've been replaying dbh lately, and: I unlocked Amanda's profile in the gallery and realized I'd forgotten one important detail. That Amanda has the authority and ability to remotely deactive Connor, at any second. The only reason she didn't during the escape of Jericho or Night of the Soul was because he was still UsefulTM. As she could assume control of him anytime, anywhere, but needed him to ingratiate himself to the Jericrew and get close to them before murdering Markus on live TV (and i wondered about that for a while - why wait, why not just kill Markus in the church, or hell, even immediately after deviating at Jerico - but i suppose it's a much bigger negative impact on public opinion to watch an android kill the deviant leader live. Their support is still tenuous, at best. This would likely tip plenty of people into believing that deviants are, in fact, unstable, unpredictable, and dangerous.)

But also...the fact that Amanda could have Thanos snapped Connor at any moment and he would have crumpled to the ground like an electrocuted pigeon. I just feel like, that as a fandom, we don't talk about this aspect of her nearly enough.

Imagine, if you will, Hank waiting for Connor at ass fucking o'clock (for him), freezing his ass off and hoping and waiting Connor wasn't hurt, wasn't laying dead in a ditch, or burning in an alley somewhere- and then he turns and Connor's there, missing a tie, but still with that goofy Superman curl and goofy smile. He's tugging the kid into a hug by the neck before he can think twice about it, and he thinks that maybe. Just for a split second. That maybe the world ain't all bad.

Connor's nearly melted into the embrace, lax (as much as THE stiffest android he's ever met, anyways) as can be, except he suddenly tenses in Hank's arms. Hank leans back, putting distance between them, just enough to look Connor in the eye, except the deviant isn't looking at him. Instead, his wine dark eyes are fixated ahead, wide, blank, and unseeing.

"Connor? You alright?" He asks nervously.

Connor does not reply, or tilt his head, or do any of the other 300 little idle animations he does. His LED is a steady, unblinking blue. He doesn't even seem to be simulating breathing.

"Connor? Hey, talk to me, kid." He knows his voice is edging near panic, but he doesn't care, giving Connor's shoulder a little jostle.

Connor remains unresponsive for 4 seconds, and then-

his LED turns a bright, burning red, his eyes roll to the back of his head, eyelids flickering up a storm, and he starts falling backwards. Hank watches it all as if in slow motion.

"Whoa, hey, hey, hey-" He yanks Connor against him, lowering him until he's cradled almost in Hank's lap. "Con, help me, what do i gotta do? I know fuck all about androids, so you're gonna have to tell me what to do here." He knows holding a hand to an android's forehead won't tell him anything, that they don't even get sick or cold, but he does it anyways just to have something to do with his hands. "I can't-fuck, just please, be ok. Don't do this to me, please-"

Connor's red LED flickers, once, twice, then holds steady for a moment before dimming slowly to nothing. Empty, grey, and lifeless.

Somewhere, far away from the icy slush and the screams bouncing off the detroit streets, Amanda snips another dead rose.

Damm, okay!

Yeah, I think shooting the deviant leader on live tv during the victory speech is surely much more impactful “last twist” than doing it in the middle off some mess where someone else could still theoretically take over the leader role (although it’s not like Connor didn’t try)

So you want that hug scene but with drama? Can’t blame you, haha

Although I’m a huge fun of something like this happening right then and where Connor resisted shooting Markus, once again during the speechtime. I mean, him shooting himself regardless of whetger or not there are Markus. Because if he can resist Amanda when Markus is alive, it’s not entirely sure why isn’t it an option when he’s alone, so shooting himself in both scenarios kinda make sense imo

[redbelles]

twenty questions for fic writers

tagged by: the wonderful @carry-the-sky 💖

1. how many works do you have on ao3?

51

2. what's your total ao3 word count?

245,595

3. what fandoms do you write for?

i don't ever really abandon old fandoms, but so far 2024 has been all berserk (nothing posted yet, unforch) and masters of the air

4. top five fics by kudos

like a heartbeat drives you mad

the dreadful need in the devotee

and my body found the wind

stuck in colder weather

all the love you need

5. do you respond to comments?

yes! it may take me a hundred million years, but i appreciate each and every comment i get, and i often go back to them for a little jolt of "hey, people actually like your writing!" motivation when i'm stuck

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

lmao uh. known angst goblin meg redbelles here, but i honestly didn't have to do much work to the canon endings of robert baratheon (the clouds will form a crown) or judas iscariot (in the violence of our dreams) to make them even more horrifically angsty, so. one of those, probably!

7. what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

i don't tend to go for out and out happy endings—i prefer bittersweet—but i feel like the answer is either the mercy wheel, which fixes dany’s gabarge season eight character arc, or tongue’s talkin’ riddles (sticky sweet), which gives chrissy and eddie a mostly happy future together instead of horrible deaths in deeply cursed hawkins

and! for what it's worth! the chimneys hardly ever fall down is going to end on a happy note! they're just going to have to Suffer a lot to get there! it's fine!

8. do you get hate on fics?

nope

9. do you write smut?

me, currently 3k into a m/m/f threesome scene:

10. craziest crossover:

i enjoy spitballing about crossovers, but i doubt very seriously that i'll ever write one

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that i'm aware of, no

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

i've had offers before, but i've declined every time; they all wanted to host the translations outside of AO3, which is not something i'm comfortable with

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

yep! keep calling me home is a really fun little round robin fic i wrote with three other authors a couple years ago

14. all time favorite ship?

i can't read suddenly.gif

15. what's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

shUT UP!!!!! I'M GONNA FINISH ALL MY WIPS!!!!!! SHUT UP!!!!! LEAVE ME ALONE!!!!!

16. what are your writing strengths?

imagery, emotion, themes, dialogue

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

plot? never heard of her. also, i feel like i still suck at writing humor

18. thoughts on dialogue in another language?

to crib from a previous answer: unless you speak the language, it gets real dicey real fast. i personally avoid it unless a) it’s a canonical term/phrase, like all the faux-russian bullshit in the grisha trilogy, or b) i can check the grammar/usage with a native speaker or someone who is solidly fluent

19. first fandom you wrote in?

[redacted] way back ages ago on [redacted]

20. favorite fic you've written?

recency bias talking here, but i am so, so, so fond of the chimneys hardly ever fall down; i challenged myself to write the first chapter as one continuous scene (i feel like i sometimes abuse scene breaks to heighten tension), and honestly i think i nailed it. also, this sequence:

Maybe he is drunk. That would make sense. He’s going to wake up and find himself alone at the bottom of a bottle. Back in the cold blue, Fort shot to shit and tumbling from the sky like a wounded bird, trailing fire and screaming as she falls. Maybe he won’t wake up at all— maybe he’s dead in a potato field, a ghost who never made it back in the first place. His heart can’t fucking take it.

like, i'm sorry, but that's brutal! and i am so proud of it!

tagging: @sluttyhenley @littlelindentree @oatflatwhite @meyerlansky @ladywaffles

@charmtion @anthropologicalhands @jacyevans @thatworldinverted @thatgirlnevershutsup

and anyone elso who wants a go ✨

[snarkylinda]

I’m very glad you’re talking about spencer being parentified because it feels like people sometimes gloss over it a bit? or maybe I’m just looking in the wrong places. if this isn’t something you do in you’re blog feel free to just. not respond but do you have any more thoughts or. idk headcanons on how that might have affected him as an adult?

Hi anon! To be honest I have no idea what is essentially discussed alot on the fandom other that a tiny fraction of it I expose myself to because 1#I am too tired and old to deal with fandom discourse about my blorbo, and based on my previous experience with fandoms I KNOW that the most popular the character, the bigger the discourse so haha no- 2# I joined in late lmao literally a couple of months ago, so I am super out of the loop just screaming to the void in desperate needs for someone to scream back 🤲🏼 do this kind of asks actually made me so happy agahagaha 🥰🥰 Buckle up bois this is LONG-

Ok now to those that might come across this and ask themselves what the hell does being parentified means, it's a broad term used for the phenomenon of (at best) a child sharing parental responsibilities due to x circumstance, or (at worst) downright having the parent/child dynamic completely swapped, with the child being the caretaker for the parent and household. You don't have to know deep CM lore knowledge to realize the latter is Spencer Reid to a T. Hell, they aren't even subtle about it lmao:

Btw parentification is often mixed in with abandonment and while they share the "child being forced to grown up" too quickly, the former is often distinguished by the fact that, more often that not as is this case, the parent still cares for them but are unable to do so how it should be (tho there are several cases where parentefication is an part of willing neglect, sadly) and added to the fact that they have to look after themselves- they have to look after another.

This is a really complicated, broad topic and I just mentioned this to go full disclaimer and that I don't blame Diana at all for how messed her son ended up since she can't help it- and to make a joke about how Spencer was abandoned and parentified. Also harassed. Guys he wasn't even 18-

Anyways but back to your question, how do I think that affected Spencer growing up....well in everything basically lmao

But I will take on two instances that had stood up to me the most: emotional management and hiding secrets.

The second one is easier: you would catch this man dead before he vents to you over something other than his shitty dad (that I find very funny tbh) and when he does is because he is at his limit and about to fucking cry.

Now don't get me wrong: we all are entiltde to our privacy. These are grown ass adults and they have lives outside of their working circle....

Right?

Haha we have an problem-

So yeah, Spencer kind of actually needs to rely on his co-workers because he has literally nobody else to rely on-

And yet

Oh here is the thing- Spencer is one polite boi but he is also blunt, if he doesn't want someone on his business he says so (look back when Alex discovered him and Maeve) this is literally "I wanted to tell you but I feel like I shouldn't"- this is not season 1 mind you, this is season 11, and yet here he was one of his oldest friends literally grabbing him by the arm and having to tell him it's never a bother- I am the only one fucking crying at this?

Excuses seems to come to Spencer like it's second nature- "sorry a tube on my apparment broke" "Oh I....I tripped!" "There was a lot of traffic so..." "I was watching an movie" and I am not am expert on USA's history or some shit, but Child Protection Services had been a thing since at least the 60s, so I don't think that a 10yo living alone with his mentally ill mother would have flown well- you get the idea.

I think this scene summarizes the whole thing perfectly

Get it? it's irony. (I love how Spencer is about to say something like dismissive "thank you" but because this shit hit too close to home to comfort he just gave a polite smile and walked away. That silence was LOUD) Because Spencer had always had done the former but the latter er.... :D

And it's not only when it concern Diane btw, any problem whatsoever Spencer would rather lock himself up (literally lmao) that sit down and talk about it- it's only when his bs is exposed and he can't refutage (like that little scene after Gideon's death when Rossi asks him if he had been there all night- he points out the fact he is wearing the same cardigan as the day before) that he opens up....or he runs away, which leads me to the second big point that I think shows how much Parentification fucked him up:

Spencer has the emotional maturity of a teenager.

I talk about this literally all the time so I'll be shorter lmao basically Spencer... has an issue- ok he has lot of issues- and that is the way he dislikes direct confrontation, so whenever he is hurt or angry he would rather be dismissive and passive-agressive that talk it out with the person- even going as far as turning away and storming out of the room.

(Here is the part where I put the screencaps but him storming off would be out of focus so lmao er.... Elephant Memory, Memoriam, Proof, a little part in 15x2 and The Gathering)

Now... I do think that a grown-ass man doing this shit is hilarious, like I love Spencer's bratty side so much lmao but it's an clear sign of someone that never learned how to deal with his emotions on a healthy way, someone that 6 out of 7 days of the week had to interiorize everything in and because of that holds on so much....resement, so much repressed anger but also without an stable force on his life to help him manage that- so we are left with an teenager trapped in an adult's body, loss at how to handle shit like he always did.

....And want to know the worst part about an Parentified boy onto adulthood?

That they don't know better.