#another short one folks my bad

[dailykugisaki]

Day 124 | id in alt

A little bit of a rematch and my opinion on why you never see Mai's six(seven) shooter again.

Read from left to right.

[dragonji]

being a student is always going so well until it Isn't .

[heartfullofleeches]

Loser Catboy Streamer gets paid big bucks to promote the reopening of a fancy cafe by hosting a meet and greet for fans. They're insulted - offended the owners think they'd sell themself for some quick cash and demean themselves further by throwing on a maid dress for their pathetic simps, but a few more zeros helps them squeeze into the outfit a lot easier.

In the same venue where they're being smothered by fans and exchanging handshakes for entire life savings, an important business meeting takes place. Most of the table is annoyed that their peaceful spot had been overrun by some bad-mouthed stray and the folks who enable their ways, but the head of the table sees something different. They rise from their seat to address the commotion as the steamer harshly shoves a guest who'd grabbed their tail without permission out the booth they shared.

-

"Cat."

Fixing your skirt and hiding your tail beneath, posion sits on your tongue directed at the next person to bother you quickly swallow as you turn your eyes towards them. A chilling ran down your spine from their cold stare and physique to uphold their hardened look. Defined muscles salient through the binds of their tight suit, healing scars over the bones of their knuckles and fists. You will your terror into a smile as you shrink under their gaze.

"S-sorry if we were being too loud. The last customer pulled on my tail pretty hard and-

You flinch as they slam their hand down on the table - sliding a rolled wad of bills towards you.

"Come here...."

Eyeing them cautiously, you snatch the money as they sit in the booth inches from you. You scoot over, hairs on end as their large hand shuts the short distance bewteen you. You expect brute force to snap your neck like a twig as their fingers come into contact with your skin - curling upwards to scratch light at your chin. You purr softly - smile forming on their scarred lips.

"Good kitty. You're coming with me."

"But, my contract says I have to be here for another-"

The strangers places another stack of bills in your apron.

"I'll... go get my coat."

-

Where their underlings see a wild beast that should be locked in a cage, the boss sees a lost kitten in need. All that attention on them yet nobody's taking care of them properly telling by their diet and inability to groom themselves on a regular bases. The boss takes them in and handles these faults while catboy reader wonders what sort of hell they've gotten themselves into. They can't be too upset with frequent spa trips and fresh home-cooked meals, but sometimes they do miss being able to stuff garbage into their mouth. Living with their new "owner", they still stream everyday which their caretaker uses to monitor them while at work. They're given odd glances for watching a cat streamer stream video games in their position, but no one is brave enough to even whisper about their odd behavior.

Loser Catboy sometimes joins them at the office, sitting in their lap as any normal cat would. They absolutely hate wearing their collar, but diamonds do look amazing on them

[hyunjins-orange-slice-too]

masterlist and important info

here we are, folks. 💕

hyunjins-orange-slice 2.0! i was forced to make a new blog, so i will be reposting all of my works from the original hyunjins-orange-slice here. and some new things im working on!

🚨THIS IS AN 18+ ONLY BLOG🚨

ageless and blank blogs will be blocked, no questions asked. (if you have fixed the issue, or feel you have been blocked unfairly, send a DM to @secret-orange-slice )

everything posted here is fiction and in no way represents stray kids in reality

my requests are open- the only rules i have are: i only write for skz, no noncon and no pregnancy, and nothing illegal. i reserve the right to deny any request for any reason. if i don’t answer your request, it means im not comfortable with it or i just haven’t got to it yet. feel free to send me a message for clarification. :)

im not on a posting schedule, i just post when it feels right.

please be kind and respectful. 💕

Regally Smitten Masterlist

FLUFF

chan:

domestic drabble

thank you (another domestic drabble)

am i even your bias? (3racha drabble)

his princess (my first ever tumblr post)

confessions (fake text)

random texts with bf chan

asking bf chan if he would save you from zombies (texts, request)

when a song makes him think of you (texts)

reacting to jjam mv (texts)

random texts with daddy chan (ddlg, princess)

'connected' (chan series)

chapter one chapter two chapter three chapter four chapter five

chapter six

chapter seven

changbin

when changbin misses you (texts)

jeongin

fake texts noona request

minho

the color? he’s lame (texts, minho confession, request)

seungmin

random texts with bf seungmin

felix

random texts with bf felix

ot8

do you still love me? (text)

more jeongin and seungmin texts

ANGST

minho drabble (idk if this is “angst” it’s just sad) hyunjin drunk argument hyunjin drunk argument part2

i’m not your fucking dad (fake texts, chan breakup)

toxic chan being jealous (texts)

jisung when he’s distant because of work (texts, happy ending, request)

stop banging on the door (chan, texts)

chan confesses after you get caught with changbin (texts)

han confesses after catching you with minho (texts, request)

jeongin confesses and hyunjin confesses (texts, request)

stop hanging out with my family (hyung line, texts, request)

baby you’re a blessing (texts, jeongin angst)

jealous skz when someone pays for your food (texts, request)

jealous skz from above part 2 (texts)

jealous changbin texts (request)

HURT/COMFORT

chan

untitled

i can’t stand to see you cry

nightmare

texts when you’re anxious about a date

texts bsf chan (who may be in love with you) when your boyfriend isnt being a good boyfriend

what daddy chan says to comfort you

when you cancel plans because you’re feeling insecure (texts)

when your period is close (texts)

han

if you’re feeling it, then it’s valid (texts, request)

hyunjin

here’s the plan (period request)

untitled (eating disorder comfort)

felix

my wittle pookie wookie bear

changbin

texts when you injure yourself at the gym (request)

changbin confesses after you’re stood up (texts, request)

seungmin

texts bsf seungmin when you have a bad breakup

when you tell him you have anxiety

SMUT 18+

chan

his good girl, always (my favorite piece i’ve done) safe word (hard dom chan)

sleepy morning drabble

kissing (short oral drabble)

untitled (oral backstage at music core)

reacting to his insta (fake text)

untitled (soft dom chan, somnophilia)

i said, sit (daddy chan, face riding)

karma in the shape of a god

all the things chan would whisper in your ear

kneeling on the floor (chan version)

adrenaline rush (lolla chicago suggestive drabble)

so is it true? (texts)

reacting to dominATE seoul photos (texts, daddy chan)

is this what you had in mind, baby? (daddy chan)

minho

untitled (dom minho, bondage, etc)

i like your panties

i like your cock (i like your panties part 2)

hyunjin

Daddy, let me help

Daddy, let me help part 2

sleepy morning drabble

untitled (soft dom hyunjin punishment)

is the door even locked? (soft dom daddy hyunjin, public sex)

han

wash it first (phone sex)

kneeling on the floor (han version)

ot8

skz catching you reading fan fiction

skz when you say ily in bed

when you’re too shy to send a spicy picture (texts- hyung line)

when you’re too shy to send a spicy picture (texts- maknae line)

skz when you text “you can come now, they’re gone.”

the one where chan teaches minho to share

if you like that, what if i did this? (minsung x reader)

calling them by their name request (texts)

best friend skz catching you masturbating (texts hyung line)

best friend skz catching you masturbating (texts maknae line)

flirting with bsf skz (texts, request) hyung line

flirting with bsf skz (texts, maknae line)

fuck the sadness out of me (3racha, texts, request)

well it worked (fuck the sadness out of me, 3racha, written part 2)

now you don’t have to choose (texts, jeongin and seungmin)

skz helping you shave (texts)

daddy!chan helping you shave

[ratskinsuit]

Hiii!

Would it be okay to request a Lucifer x Imp!fem!reader? I was thinking something about the reader being insecure about dating Lucifer (either due to the vast difference in social ranking and/or the fact that the reader is short while Lilith was a tall woman) and he comforts her? If not, that’s okay!

Thank you!

My Other Half

Lucifer x Imp fem!Reader

———————————————————————

A/N: I’m so so sorry this took so long to get out. Yk the usual depression and writers block and adhd blah blah blah blah blah. I wrote the end to this at like 3am and was tryna not cry because random depression go brrrrr. Hope you enjoyed though and arnt go mad this took so long!

———————————————————————

Every year, since Lucifer’s falling from heaven, He has hosted a gathering of the finest and most powerful beings in hell, of eating and socializing, a sorrei. Filled with gorgeous women and handsome men, the delicious aroma of hundreds of plates of food wading through the area. Demons laughing and chatting with one another. dressed in the fanciest of suits and gowns. All of them having some high status of power compared to the other, more common folk of the streets.

Even in his depression, Lucifer had still continued to host these parties, yet he had enjoyed none of it. However this was the first time in 7 years that he had someone to bring to it, you, his girlfriend.

You two originally met when you started working for him as an advisor. His work preformence dwindling with his mental health. So Charlie hired you to go help him with his work and choices. And eventually you tow became closer, the relationship no longer being boss and employee.

When hell found out that the Lucifer, the king, started dating an imp, people had some… mixed opinions. The lower class saw it as Lucifer possibly trying to be inclusive, or making fun of them, while th uppers saw it as an embarrassment. Lucifer payed no mind to these comments, and you tried your best not to, but sometimes they got to you.

Your infront of the mirror in your shared bedroom, adjusting your dress. Your weaning a short sleeved red dress with a slit in the side and a V neckline. It goes down to your ankles. Your wearing fishnet stokings with a pair of dark black heels and a matching obsidian necklace.

You brush through your hair with your fingers, and see in the mirror Lucifer entering the room. He looks you up and down and smiles, walking over to you. He’s wearing a white suit with red accents, his red tie, darker than the accent, not yet done. His hair slicked back in a professional manner.

“You look absolutely gorgeous darling,” He coos, wrapping his arms around your waist, hugging you from behind and looking in your eyes in the mirror.

You smile, turning around to look him in the eyes, stroking his cheek. “Not so bad yourself Mr.Devil.” You smirk, fixing some fo his smudged eyeliner on the corner of his eyes . “Only for you my love.” He replies.

He blushes a bit, and you lean forward to give him a quick kiss. It lasts a couple seconds before you pull away pulling a disappointed whine from Lucifer. You snicker, reaching at his chest to do his tie. You smoothly tie it up, adjusting it once done and taking a step back “Perfect.” You smile.

Lucifer positions himself next to you, wrapping an arm around your waist, intertwining his right hand with yours. “Ready to go darling?” He asks, kissing your hand, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

The walk down to the banquet hall was pleasant. Not to far from your rooms. Making sense as it’s in the same building. As you two approach, the sound of laughing and conversing grows louder.

At last you two arrive, Lucifer opening the big doors. Everyone turns to him, feeling slightly awkward you scoot a bit behind him. Everyone claps as Lucifer welcomes and thanks everyone for coming.

You study everyone around, feeling out of place surrounded by all these high-class demons. As he finishes his welcoming, you two begin to walk around, Lucifer greeting people as you stand there, next to him. Trying to ignore the judgemental stares of others around you.

As Lucifer chats with other people, they completely ignore your presence, making you feel invisible. You honestly don’t know whether or not to be happy about it though.

After a little bit you and Lucifer are approached by a fancy looking lady. She has bird like features and is wearing a beautiful long dress. Her top is short, white fading to pink, with short puffy sleeves. Her skirt is long and flowing, 3 layered with a feather like texture. The top an off white with a black trim, the second bright white, and the third black layer. All tied together with a bright yellow tiara on her head.

“Lucifer, darling! How have you been?” She comes up, and Lucifer turns to her with a smile as they hug. “Ah Stella, great to see you as always!” He says, pulling back, fixing his shirt.

“Marvelous party, as always my lord.” She smiles, her posture and appearance full of grace, subconsciously making you straighten your own back. “Thank you Stella, I try.” Lucifer laughs, turning to you.

“My dear this is Stella, one of the Goetia Royalty,” he says, waving towards at Stella. You give her a polite smile, ignoring the way her face scrunches up at you. “Very nice to meet you, I love your dress.” You say, complimenting her, but she looks you up and down, judgmentally.

“I didn’t know that the staff was allowed to attend these types of events,” She says slyly, turning to Lucifer. You frown at her comment, wondering if you did something wrong. Lucifer. however just let’s out a chuckle, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “Ah well no, but she isn’t actually a worker, this is my girlfriend.” He says, an unmoving smile present on his face.

Stella looks you up and down for a moment before bursting out laughing. She cackles for a moment before calming down and taking deep breath, wiping the tears from under her eyes. “Is..something funny?” Lucifer asks, raising an eyebrow at he behavior.

“You know, if I knew you were that desperate for a partner, I could have set you up with someone. I have loads of hot first-rate friends who you would just adore,” she says, shooting a quick glare in your direction, Lucifer didn’t quite catch; his smile faltering at her words.

“I appreciate it Stella but I’m very happy with who I am with right now.” He says, squeezing your waist. “Well if you ever change your mind just let me know.” She says, glancing at you one last time before wandering off to a group of other people.

As soon as she turns Lucifer looks at you, and you look at him, trying to conceal the sad look in your eyes. “I’m so so sorry about that, she can be a real drama starter sometimes, are you okay love?” He asks, searching you face. “Yeah, I’m used to it don’t worry.” You say, a smile on your face, trying to get past what happened. Lucifer squeezes your shoulder.

“Why don’t we go get some food for now?” He asks, and you nod, the two of you heading to get something to eat.

As you spent more time conversing at the party, you grew more comfortable, and tried to ignore the stares and whispering. Mainly from Stella and her friends, making comments about your class of imps and how you “unruly creatures” and how Lucifer should just ditch you beside it’s embarrassing.

Later into the night, you and Lucifer were chatting with a group of demons that run a large business, you can’t remember what it was about though. Lucifer turns to you. “Hey love, do you think you could get us some more drinks?” He asks sweetly, and when you agree gives you a kiss on the forhead before turning back to the conversation as you walk away.

You head to the table with the drinks, noticing Stella and some of her friends by it. She notices you and turn to her friends as they whisper and giggle, she sends a grin your way.

You choose to ignore it, probably just then talking bad about you again, beliving they won’t do anything.

You head to the table, grabbing two wine glasses about to fill them up, when suddenly you feel something spill all over the front of your dress.

You gasp and turn look down at yourself to see the wine spilled all over your new dress. “Aw, oopsie! So sorry darling, just bumped into the table. But don’t worry, I’m sure you have some clothes that… fit you better right? Like those simple imo clothes?” Stella gives you a fake pouty look, cackling.

Lucifer rushes over to you as tears begin to pool in your eyes. “Oh my god, my dear are you al-“ he tries to reach for you, scanning to see if your okay but you swat his hand away. “I’m fine” you snap, wiping at the tears beginning to fall.

You don’t look behind you, but hear Stella and her friends laughing and the people crowding to see what happened, as you rush to a nearby bathroom.

You scramble into the restroom, slamming the door behind you, locking it. You go over to one of the walls, sinking down to the floor. You rest your face in your hands, as you sobs and cry, ruining your carefully done makeup.

You hug your knees tightly, sniffling and rocking yourself back and forth, your chests heaving with the heavy breaths your taking.

You internally curse yourself for ever thinking your worth the king of hell. You. A simple imp. Your choked sobs die down to sift whispers, yet the tears never stopping streaming down you face.

You bury your face into your knees hander when you hear the door unlock and open, muttering a small “go away.” But they don’t, and you hear the footsteps come closer, stopping infront of you.

“Dear, what’s this about….?” You hear a voice say, peeking up to see Lucifer looking at you, kneeled down. He has a sad look on his face.

“…why me…?” You ask, and Lucifer opens his mouth to speak, furrowing his brows. “Stella’s right, why pick me and not some other better prettier more powerful demon…” you interrupt him, and Lucifer’s face falls.

“Oh darling…” he whispers, holding you and cradling you in his arms. “Why would you think I want someone else..?” He murmurs.

“Because th-there are so many other people that would be better for you..” you cry, leaning against his chest as he holds you tight, the tears beginning to fall faster down your cheeks, chest heaving.

He just shushes you, wiping them away. “My love I chose you, not anybody else..” he says, turning you to look at him with a smile. “I don’t care how powerful you are, your shape, size, color, darling I picked you.” He says, and you start to cry harder, burying your face in his chest. “B-… but why…?”

He just smiles, rubbing hand through your hair, rubbing circles in your back comfortingly. “Because when I met you, you made me happier than I have felt for years..” he says. “And I don’t care about anything else because I love you, no other woman will ever have my heart as the way you have.”

You sniffle, and he rocks you back and forth, his hand going to hold yours. He brings your hand up to his mouth giving it a kiss, before continuing.

“I’m so sorry how Stella treated you, I should have warned you before hand she is very judgey, it’s my fault sweetheart, and I apologize.”

You wipe your tears with the back of your hand. You lean against him as he soothes you. He hugs you tightly, ignoring your wet dress against him, staining his white tux from the red rubbing off. But he doesn’t care and just holds you closer.

“M…I. I’m.. sorry…” you mutter, and he shushes you. “Honey there is nothing to be sorry about. The only people that should be sorry are Stella and the other people who judged you based on what you look like and where you came from.”

“For… ruining the party..” you say, embarrassed, but he just chuckles. “My love that was just a bit of spilt wine. Nothing to fret over. You ruined nothing.”

You two sit there in silence for a moment, embraced in a hug together. “…thank you…” you murmer.

“For what, sweetheart?” He asks. “For… st-staying with me, and dealing with my bullshit… and not judging me…” you say, and he lets out a laugh at your second reason.

“Of course my love, he says turning you head to him and he places a kiss on your forehead.

You two sit there, finding comfort in each others warmth.

After a couple minutes Lucifer speaks. “So, we have two options. One; I can take you up to the room and you hang out there and then when the party is over, I come get you.” He inhaled; letting it sink in. “Or two, you can go to the room and get changed and come back out to see my chewing out Stella, and have a good time at the party.” You laugh at his option 2.

“Two. Definitely two.”

———————————————————————

A/N: this took so long I’m so sorry I have ADHD and procrastinate. But figure out a not-really-kinda schedule. I do a request, then do Headcanons or a story I chose, then request and so on. If you sent a request and it’s in the rules and has not been done yet, it will be done eventually. This wasent as long as I would have hoped but I think it still came out good! Hope you enjoyed, make sure to know you are loved and take care of yourself!

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

[amimuu]

“Had I been given the choice…”

[COMICCCCCCCC!!!! Under the cut]

Bing. Bong. HITS YOU WITH EMOTIONAL ANGST BUS!!!!!

Goooodnight everyone guess who decided to randomly make another short comic just because—but this time like. It actually is a canon scene from VTA au. What? Which one? Idk Pushes notes under the imaginary rug have you checked behind the sofa?—Thats right—me.

So I locked in, and drew this in a day. Cuz it was a free day!!! Right as I thought oh shit here comes another art block BOOM this idea comes. And I’m actually so glad I finally drew it (it’s been sitting on my mind for a while TEEHEE).

So lamb lore dump?? They had a SISTER??? Who’s this Callum guy? What’s that little bell thing?

Well, I believe that at least 2 of this questions can be answered with a little speculation and connecting the dots. Picture me giving you little pats in the back. Go, go, it isn’t that hard I think. And as always you can always come scream at me in my inbox. I shall answer sjjdjdjd

Welp. Thats all for me folks. Rn it’s pretty late, so I’m getting some sleep. Until next time!

Ps: I was in fact listening to Radiohead while drawing this comic. Is that a bad thing? A good thing? Boy do I know. Do yall like the band?

[mybworlds]

Animae duae, animus unus

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x f!reader | W.C. 4.6K

Summary: Your father marries you to General Acacius, the most powerful and feared man in Rome after the Emperor.

Warnings: use of you, arranged marriage, unspecified age gap, constraint, loss of virginity, SMUT, pinv, masturbation, sub/dom dynamics (?), Marcus is neither a bad or a good guy here, he's a man of that time (almost!).

A/N I think I completely lost my mind seeing the trailer, folks, so a new idea about General Marcus Acacius crossed my mind. I studied a while ago about the condition of women at the time of Roman age, but a few things could change and not to be historically accurate.

"It's a great honor. For you and our family." that's what your father told you when he decided you should get married.

You should have married a man you don't know at all, a man much older than you, a man whose name alone was enough to make everyone tremble. He's best known for his skill in using the sword, for being a great orator and for being in close contact with Emperor Geta and his brother Caracalla.

You know nothing about the General, you saw him once or twice, you still remember those meetings and what you felt. They made you dress with great care, they made you wear your best tunic, there was a lace that tightened your waist to enhance your figure even more. You were accompanied by your mother and a handmaid in the presence of your father and the man to whom your father wanted to give you in exchange for a better social position and other favors. When you arrive to the triclinium, your father and another man were eating while lying down. Their eyes fell on you and you heard your father introduce you to the man.

The man left the bunch of grapes he was nibbling and came towards you. You only glimpsed the movement as you were told to keep your head down and be submissive in order to make a good impression to him.

You were sure you looked very nervous at that moment, you were afraid. You didn't know who you were supposed to marry, you didn't know anything about him, but you were sure of one thing: you didn't love him.

He wore a finely adorned white and red tunic with two eagles sewn on the chest, a crimson waist belt, a cloak of the same colors and boots. You saw his hand lift and then reach for your chin, he squeezed it and made your head lift so your eyes met. He certainly has very beautiful eyes, in that light they seemed to be honey-colored, but what he did you didn't like at all because he started to to examine you as if he wanted to pierce you through, you could barely hold his gaze.

"Is she all right?" you heard him ask your father, turning slightly towards him.

His voice was confident, deep, raspy and for some reason it made your skin crawl. You looked at him sideways and noticed how tall and broad he was.

"Y-yes, sure, General." your father replied concerned to the idea he could miss the opportunity to make a leap forward in society.

"She's shaking." the General noted, looking back at you and almost piercing you with his gaze.

"She's just a little nervous." your father replied again almost coming alongside the General looking so short next to the man.

The General began to walk around you and observe every little detail of you as if he were looking at a horse at the market and deciding whether to buy it or not. He didn't touch you except for your chin, but you still felt overwhelmed by his gaze and his physical presence.

"I'd like to hear her voice, Tracius." the General said again, turning to your father who swallowed, almost intimidated by the man's tone of voice.

Your father called you almost abruptly, making you suddenly raise your head and inviting you to say something nice to the General. Something that wouldn't make him miss this opportunity, of course.

You didn't know what to say to the General, you were so intimidated by him, all you managed to ask him was how he was. You didn't know if it was correct or appropriate to ask a man of his social status to ask such questions in public, but you had no idea he'd have asked to hear you speak.

He smirked and looked at you with an amused look as if you had just performed a pantomime. You didn't know whether to feel offended or whether to smile too at his strange reaction. When in doubt, you lowered your head and waited to know what you had to do to please your parent.

"General, she will be an excellent wife and will certainly be able to please you. Whatever your desire is, she will be able to satisfy it." your father said as if you weren't even there.

"I'm sure." he said, you didn't know what his expression was since your head was down and the heart in your chest was beating furiously with fear and discomfort.

"So it's decided, General?" your father asked, you recognized that tone of voice: he was scared, but not because he feared for your fate, he was just afraid of losing this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

"Sure." the man replied, then the two men moved towards the triclinia and you were dismissed.

That same day they decided what advantages would come from your marriage union, if children were born there would be even more opportunities and then naturally under which moons will your union take place.

It's the night before the wedding and you don't know what to feel, how you should feel, you're in your room and you feel a deep discomfort. There is a lot of shouting outside, the slaves go back and forth. Tonight is your last night here, in your bed, in your room, in your house. From tomorrow you will no longer live here, but you will live in the domus of General Acacius. You will be his property.

The next day, after barely eating anything, you are joined by a couple of maids who help you undress and bathe in a scented water. Subsequently, according to an ancient custom you wear a very white tunic with a belt at your waist. The white represents your purity and virginity and the belt is a sort of lucky charm for your union and with the hope that the marriage with the General will bring the arrival of many children. They comb and braid your hair into a complicated hairstyle, then make you wear lots of jewelry and only then, when you look at yourself in the mirror, you realize you're trembling for fear. You don't want to, but you can't escape.

They then place a crown full of beautiful flowers on your head. You remember when your father still allowed you to run along the meadows to pick wild, fragrant flowers. Oh, you were so happy then!

They then place the veil on your head, completely enveloping your figure. Your world completely changes color and turns orange. The maids smile at you, perhaps you should force yourself to smile, but your muscles are paralyzed.

When you leave your room for the last time, you hear singing and festive music coming from outside and when you leave, you find General Acacius followed by a procession of friends, relatives and powerful people of Rome waiting for you.

The General wears an even more elegant toga than last time. His toga is a splendid golden and white color. On it there is the symbol of two golden eagles embroidered on his chest. The cape on his shoulders falls softly along his back greatly enhancing his strong presence. He gives you a long silent look. His gaze is serene, but serious.

A first seal is placed which symbolizes your union from a formal point of view and with which you formally become a property of the man at your side. The sacrifice of an animal then takes place, followed by other ritual phrases. You feel completely dazed, you hear and pronounce everything you have learned by heart, you know what needs to be done, but the anxiety and fear are paralyzing you.

You lift your veil and raise your head to meet the eyes of the man you are marrying.

His gaze is serious, he scrutinizes you carefully. It's difficult to understand or guess what he thinks, while you on the other hand are certainly visibly tense and scared.

His hair is a mass of dark curls, his beard patched and peppered with gray. All in perfect contrast with his tanned skin. He smells of oils and incense.

Your join your hands and therefore with these rituals your union is official. You try to smile, but you're sure that a grimace rather than a smile has appeared on your face. Your groom smiles at you and smiles at the procession that had accompanied him to your house.

A lavish banquet follows accompanied by music, the presence of poets, musicians who enrich the event, you and your husband are sitting next to each other. Your husband has two of his servants taste and drink before starting to eat and sip his wine. He notices your gaze, even if you do everything you can to keep it down or elsewhere, and then he addresses you for the first time without your father present, "You can never be too careful, my wife."

You swallow and nod and then look away, at your father. He's happy, he's toasting and eating his fill. He argues with another man and talks profusely.

"Do you want it?" your husband asks you, handing you a cup of wine which you take in your slightly shaking hands, he must have noticed because he adds, "Have you ever drank before?" you shake your head "Drink little and slowly, I want a wife who will be present on the wedding night."

You look away and witness a dance where a victory in battle is being staged to praise and exalt your husband's abilities.

It's dusk when you definitively leave your home, when you are torn from the arms of your mother to whom you cling one last time, then you are taken to your husband's house, and from today your house, by a small group of guests. The General is no where to be found.

A great noise surrounds you, many torches light the way to your future domus, many songs accompany your journey. You are confused, disorientated and also a little intrigued by the idea of having caused so much joviality along the dark streets of Rome with that event.

The procession stops in front of the General's domus who is there in front of the door waiting for you. You reach him and before you can enter you must perform yet another ritual and lastly you and your husband seal your union in front of the procession with one last sentence "Ubi tu Gaius, ibi ego Gaia", now you can cross the threshold of your husband's house into the arms of two guests who lift you up.

You are in what is now your domus and now you have to consummate your marriage.

Your husband is in front of you and seems to want to devour you, he caresses your cheek possessively, you look at him with fearful eyes and then he walks away to take off the ornaments worn during this long day.

From here you can no longer escape. You are in the bedroom and a maid takes all your jewels, bracelets, flower crown, hairpins off of you. The handmaid talks to you, she tells you how and what to do with your husband, how to satisfy him, but you know nothing of all this and you are afraid.

You find yourself praying, keeping your eyes closed in an expression of almost terror. You didn't even realize that the man came back and the handmaid went away.

Your husband is in front of you, he searches your eyes and finds them full of fear, "Don't worry," he tells you, "no one has ever complained." you swallow feeling your heart pounding in your chest “You are my third wife, you know?” he tells you, as he lowers his eyes to your belt and slowly runs a finger between it and your robe.

You shudder. You don't know if it was because of the gesture or because he confided in you that you are his third wife. You'd be curious to know what happened to the other two women before you, but his hands are untying the belt which falls to the red carpet at your feet.

"Watch me." he orders and you obey. You are his now. You must obey. There is no other way.

You look at him. His tanned skin seems to stand out even more between these four walls, in your bedroom.

His eyes follow the movements of his hands as they move your tunic aside, opening it with a deliberate slowness.

You're trembling and when he looks up at your face he can see and feel all your tension himself because his hands remain still on your hips.

"You don't have to be afraid, I don't want to hurt you. But you know it has to be done, right?" his voice is hoarse, but velvety.

You nod. You would like to run away, but your father has now given you up to him, you are his from now on. And he wants to own you.

"I want to hear your voice, please. It's not your father here, but your husband, and your husband wants to hear your voice." the tone of voice is delicate, but authoritative.

"All right." you simply reply, looking first at his face and then at his hands which are still on you.

"That's better." he comments with a small grin on his face "You're scared." he adds and his is not a question, but a statement. One of his hands leaves your side and goes up your stomach, your ribs, just touching your breast, then reaching your neck and finally your cheek. "You don't have to. I don't want you to have any." his voice is always authoritative, but his eyes are characterized by a great sweetness creating a strange contrast.

"I'm sorry." is the only thing you can think of to say. You lower your head.

"Watch me." He calls you back and you obey "You are a beautiful woman, you are my wonderful new wife." he adds, tightening his grip on the back of your neck.

You almost jump at that sudden gesture, you tremble and your heart beats hard in your chest. You don't know what to expect, you just know that you will be in pain and that he will almost certainly not be kind to you.

His hands push the edges of your tunic away, exposing you to his sight. His gaze is focused and he seems to appreciate what he sees. He then slides your tunic off your shoulders onto the floor and you are left with only two pieces of thin fabric covering your breasts and your privates.

He devours you with his gaze, he scrutinizes you as if he were a predator who is deciding how and when to attack his prey. His eyes are shining and you don't know what to do or how to behave.

"Come." he says, taking your hand and leading you towards a bed full of flower petals. “Sit down.” he orders.

You're scared, you feel your hands and arms as if they were lead. Tears begin to gather in the back of your eyes. You can't cry. You do not have to cry.

He takes your chin between his fingers, forcing you to suddenly lift your head upwards. He's huge, he towers over you. You feel even smaller around him.

"You're beautiful. You have the softest skin I've ever touched, darling." he says, touching your shoulders and then your arms. Your skin crawls as you follow your husband's hands with your gaze. He caresses you gently, while his gaze devours you.

"Undress me." he orders you and you, opening your eyes wide for a moment, obey with trembling hands. You bend down to untie his shoes, then sit back down and reluctantly untie his belt. You look at him for a moment before standing up and lifting his robe off over his head.

Naked he's even more impressive. Massive. Muscled. Although he's significantly older than you, he shows no signs of sagging with age.

"Have you ever seen a man?" he asks, probably noticing your quizzically look.

"N - no " you reply feeling an ever-increasing tension rising inside you at the thought that he will soon be on top of you and inside you.

"Do you even know your body? Do you know what you like and what you don't?" he asks you, perplexed and almost impatient.

You shake your head, “I – I've never had this urge.” you reply and he cocks his head to the side in surprise. “Sorry, General.” you add.

"General?!" he repeats, slightly widening his eyes and raising his eyebrows in a surprised expression "Here, in our room, I don't want formalities. In this room for you I'm Marcus."

Marcus.

"When we are in public you will call me husband only, okay?" he continues, caressing your lower lip with his thumb. You nod.

"Lie down." orders you Marcus. You lie down and put your head on the pillow. If you weren't so scared you would appreciate the softness of the bed and the softness of the pillows, but you're too focused on other things at the moment.

Marcus reaches you and it is in that moment that you see him and perceive him in his total might.

He places his hands behind your knees and opens your legs and then slides in between them. You swallow in fear.

"My wife doesn't have to be afraid of me." he tells you before bringing his face closer to yours. You almost gasp when he rests his forehead against yours. Then, he slowly places his lips on yours.

You've never kissed anyone, you don't know exactly what should be done or how you should feel about it, you just know that you have to please your spouse.

You feel his tongue caress your bottom lip and then ask for permission to enter yours, you don't want to, but you can't help it. You part your lips and his tongue enters between your lips exploring your mouth and seeking your tongue. You slowly imitate what he's doing even though, you're sure, you have a disgusted expression on your face. His kiss tastes like wine and spices, it's not a bad taste, maybe the problem is you who can't appreciate that gesture.

His muscular arms are on the sides of your face enveloping you completely.

You don't know exactly where to put your hands so you leave them at your sides.

He brings first one of your hand and then the other to his bare hip. All without interrupting that kiss, you interrupt it a few moments later by turning your head, but he takes your chin in his hands and searches for your lips again, while he caresses your bare side with one hand, his hand goes up to your breast and then goes down again and caresses your thigh and leg.

His lips move along your jaw, chin and then rest on your neck where he leaves a trail of wet kisses. You tilt your head to the side, he continues to kiss you softly your collarbones. Although your head is on the side and tell yourself again that you don't want to, your body reacts to his ministrations.

You exhale deeply, closing your eyes, your husband's lips — Marcus' — are on your breast, even though it's still covered. It's a hot cold sensation you're experiencing. You've never experienced anything like that. It's a feeling that almost scares you.

Your husband reaches up a little and first tears the fabric covering your breast and then he does the same thing with the other piece of fabric. You flinch in fear. Now he will take you by force, you think. You turn your head and wait to feel pain.

Marcus stops kissing you and looks at you. Your head turned sideaways, some of your hair covering your face. He moves them away before saying your name and drawing your attention back to him.

"Even if your head says no, your body is saying otherwise, my beautiful young bride." Marcus tells you "I know you don't know or love me," with this phrase he gets your attention, "I don't know or love you either, but time will surely help us." he adds, "I know you're scared, I know you're inexperienced, and I'm sure you know you're going to be in pain." you nod "I assure you that I'll do everything I can to make you feel as little pain as possible."

You appreciate it. You really appreciate it. The fear for the last gesture he made is slowly fading. You don't know if it's a trick to make you relax, but if it is, he's succeeding.

"Now I'm going to do something, I don't want you to hold back." you frown and look at him questioningly "It's not unpleasant, but it might seem strange to you at first."

He gives you a quick kiss on your lips, you close your eyes instinctively, then you reopen them when you feel his hands first and then his lips exploring your body.

That feeling again. It's not pleasant, but it's not the other way around either. It's strange.

His lips linger on your breasts, more precisely on your nipples which stiffen in response to his cares.

You moan feeling your skin crawl and close your eyes. You feel so strange. You frown, keeping your eyes closed. You thought that by now your marriage was already consummated and he had already left you alone with your pain but instead. . .

He leaves your breast and then moves his lips down to your belly, then goes down between your legs. You gasp when you feel the now torn piece of fabric being pulled away from your intimacy which is now completely exposed to his lustful gaze.

“Is it now that you're going to hurt me?” you ask, raising your head towards him. He raises his head and you see his eyes — now decidedly darker — staring at you and then he shakes his head.

He lowers his head towards your intimacy again and places a kiss there before starting to lick you.

You jump and instinctively move to close your legs, but he grabs your ankles and reopens your legs, exposing you again to his expert tongue.

It's the strangest sensation you've ever felt, it almost tickles you and at the same time it causes strange cramps in your stomach. It almost feels like you're on fire. A small moan escapes you, or rather more than one. If before, you would have liked him not to touch you, now it doesn't seem so unpleasant anymore, on the contrary.

His tongue seems to want to dig inside you and you arch your back throwing your head back with a sigh.

"Marcus?" you name him.

He shows no signs of stopping, in fact this gesture shakes you more and more.

"I feel strange, I think - I think there's something... wrong." you moan almost scared from the unknown sensation you are feeling with him.

Marcus raises his head breaking that contact "What are you feeling?" he asks as he dives into your folds again.

“I have a weird feeling here,” you respond reaching for his big hand and bringing it to your stomach, you jump when he focuses on a specific area of your womanhood.

"Oh, Marcus. . ." you groan "By Jove!" you start to moan uncontrollably and only then you realize that you are completely wet in your intimacy.

Then your vision blurs and you can almost see sparks behind your eyelids.

Only when this unknown tension leaves your body and you relax completely against the mattress, Marcus stops and moves back onto you.

You look into his eyes looking for something, but you don't even know what. He smiles at you tenderly, taking your hand in his and intertwining your fingers. You tremble, but not from fear. Now.

He kisses you and this time you return the gesture with less uncertainty. He places a hand in your hair for a moment in an affectionate gesture, then he sits down on his knees and you observe his body curiously: his toned arms, his chest, his soft belly and then your attention is drawn to what you have only seen once in a painting, his virility.

It's really big, its tip is red and seems to be crossed by many veins, you're attracted to it and he must have noticed your look, "Do you want to touch it?"

You nod, “May I?”

"You are my wife." it's his answer. You sit up, putting aside the uncertainty and even a hint of fear, then you reach out a hand towards him.

It's huge, you touch his tip and he jumps, you look up at him looking for confirmation. He takes your hand and wraps it around his huge manhood. You can't touch your thumb and forefinger, it's so big.

"Like this." he whispers guiding your movements back and forth along his cock. When he understands that he can abandon himself to your ministrations, he releases your hand and abandons himself by closing his eyes.

You didn't think the evening would go like this. You didn't believe he was so patient and taught you so much. You didn't believe that caressing him would give you so many shivers and that it would make him harden more and more in your hand. You didn't think you'd ever see an expression of abandon and pure bliss painted on his face. Everything's magnificent. He is magnificent.

He grunts and groans as he throws his head back, some of his curls fall onto his sweaty forehead, his eyes are closed and his lips parted. At this moment he almost reminds you of a Greek god which you could admire in a painting when you once visited Athens a long time ago.

“Now stop,” he orders you. You obey, observing the tense features of his face, he lowers his head and looks at you. Now his eyes are two black pools that seem to want to swallow you. "Lie down." he adds and you obey.

In this position and with his manhood in his fist he reminds you a lot of the statue of the god Jupiter seen in the temple a few moons ago.

He lies on top of you, he caresses your face and moves a lock of hair behind your ears "Now I'm going to hurt you a little." he warns you "Are you ready?"

You don't know if you really are, but now you want to live everything to the fullest. You nod.

You see your husband spread your legs just a little more, then he squeezes his manhood in his fist and aligns it with your intimacy. You hold your breath as you see his manhood approaching you.

"Watch me." he says in an authoritative tone and you obey, eyes widening when the tip of his cock begins to dig in with greater force than his tongue had done before.

You try to maintain eye contact, but you're feeling a burning pain, tears build up in the back of your eyes and your skin crawls. Marcus places a hand on your cheek and then gently kisses your other cheek first, then kisses your forehead, your eyelids, your mouth and then all over again.

You feel full. Full of him. You're out of breath, your eyes are still closed and you're still holding your breath. "You're very good." he tells you, kissing your lips again. He caresses your hips, “Baby, I need to move.” he warns you.

You open your eyes, you're still out of breath, a tear rolls down your cheek which Marcus promptly wipes away by kissing it "It's okay, my sweet wife. You are going to be okay."

You gulp looking at his dark eyes, while he slowly starts to move. You squeeze your eyes for the pain, but you don't want Marcus stops. He pushes inside of you once, twice, three times before you start to moan and not for the pain. You raise your head hiding it in the crook of his neck, while he pushes with greater force back and forth. He places his hands on your hips to soften the blow.

You groan feeling on fire again, "It's almost done," he warns you moaning while he tightens his grip on your hips, "I'm coming, baby." he adds and then he release a long whine in your ear before to collapse on you.

"Remember," he says "I am yours and you are mine. Forever. And forever I will take care of you. I will do everything in my power to always make you feel safe and, if we can, loved."

[raygunny]

Tav's Name

Word count: 661

The party finds out that 'Tav' is actually just a nickname. She refuses to tell them what it's short for, which is very unlike her. Cue the burning curiosity from the whole camp. Everyone approaches her in their own way.

Karloch tries the direct approach - essentially bugging Tav throughout the day. 'Just checking if you want to tell me now', she says with a grin each time. Reassuring Tav that if it's embarrassing, she'll try her best not to laugh. It's all in good fun though, no real pressure. She just likes teasing Tav about it at this point.

Wyll keeps throwing out names like she's Rumpelstiltskin. He starts out strong with 'Octavia', but towards the end of the day he's really scraping the bottom of the barrel. Tav's not sure why he's even trying this strategy - she already told him she wouldn't confirm or deny his guesses. She suspects that he and Gale made some sort of bet to see who can figure it out first. He finally gives up when he wholeheartedly guesses, 'Tavern?'

Speaking of Gale, he keeps trying to casually bring it up in conversation. 'You know, I was reading a fascinating book the other day about the power of names. I'd be remiss if I didn't offer to look yours up - if you wanted to of course. Our little secret', he says with a wink. He's so bad at being casual. She just shakes her head at each worsening attempt, it almost makes her want to tell him out of pity. Or to get him to stop pestering her, she's not quite sure.

Astarion thinks to himself, how could I have missed this? - followed up by - and why won't she tell us? Between the two of them, he's the one that's usually keeping secrets - not the other way around. How very intriguing. He tries to charm it out of her, 'I just want to know what name to call out next time we have a little midnight rendezvous', he says with that charming smirk on his face. When she dodges all his tricks and refuses to budge, that's...irritating to say the least. He can't stop thinking about her though, well her name that is. Ahem.

Shadowheart is not really all that interested in trying to coax out Tav's secrets. As a follower of Shar, she respects the secrets of others. And if Tav isn't telling them, then it must be for a reason. That still doesn't stop her from at least trying. 'I would share one of my secrets if you share yours', she says late at night when it's just the two of them by the fire. It's unlike her, but she's grown very fond of Tav. She can spare one small secret, she tells herself.

Lae'zel really couldn't care less about what Tav's full name is. Nickname or not - the only important thing is that Tav responds when Lae'zel yells her name out in battle. After watching the group pester her all day, she doesn't even ask. Though, that doesn't mean she hasn't been keeping an ear out when the others have made their attempts.

Halsin, the respectful yet smooth guy he is, tells her with a soft smile, 'While I am quite curious and would love to hear what I'm sure is a very lovely name, I am perfectly content with whatever you feel comfortable sharing with me. Tav suits you well after all'. That almost gets it out of her, but she stays resolute. She can't give in so easily. Perhaps another night, she thinks.

There are no dark secrets or skeletons in the closet for Tav, but it does turn out Wyll was right - her first name is actually Tavern. She's always found it a little embarrassing, but it's not her fault that she was born in one and her folks just ran with it. She'll hold onto this secret till a day where she knows they all need a morale boost. She's sure she'll never hear the end of it.

[hazbin-but-good]

another hazbin hotel rewrite/redesign?

yup! and i'm so serious about it that i made a whole blog for it. i'm a white queer ex-cath tran doing this as an art and writing exercise, so feedback from other creatives + jewish and/or racialized folks is especially welcome.

i'm putting this post and only this post in the main tags for visibility. also, not gonna link my main, but i do make my own original stuff, and i encourage fans and haters alike to do the same.

anyway, here's a mostly good-faith 1.7k-word essay on the original. i think it's pretty funny and brings up some less talked-about points. correct me on the facts, disagree with my opinions, and ask clarifying questions, but don't come at me with any piss-poor reading comprehension.

the hellaverse is garbage, and here's why

cw: strong language, stronger opinions, intersectional feminist critical discourse analysis

1. vivienne medrano, the person

medrano was born as a well-off white-passing latina (salvadoran-american) in bougieass frederick, maryland. while attending new york's top art school, she got popular on deviantart-tumblr-twitter by being a prolific multifandom fujoshi furry who's more into ornamental character design than storytelling. upon graduation, she leveraged her fanbase and industry connections to make the hazbin and helluva boss pilots, get helluva made for youtube, and get hazbin made for amazon prime.

like every woman online, she gets harassed for no good reason, and as a certified autist, i will defend her right to be dumb, weird, annoying, and bad with words. however, there are legit reasons to criticize her:

racism, misogyny, homophobia, fatphobia, some antisemitism, past transphobia, past ableism

shitty boss, bad friend

cowardly, vindictive, manipulative, thoughtless behavior

skeevy friends

sucks at taking criticism

in short, i think she desperately needs a PR person and someone to clean up her digital footprint.

2. medrano's art

incurious

inauthentic

noncommittal

creatively stagnant

overindulgent, and the indulgence isn't even fun

shallow and childish framed as complex and mature

bland and boring framed as shocking and subversive

to be clear, i'm at peace with the existence of suckass art like this; i just think the money, attention, and praise it gets are unearned and should go to more interesting works, of which there are infinite.

medrano's had the time, money, and social cache to grow as an artist, learn from the best, and take creative risks, but she hasn't. if she truly has nothing more to offer, she should let her collaborators take the wheel, but she doesn't do that either. instead, she keeps getting more and more resources to make the same baby bullshit, and that pisses me off. she could be the nicest person ever, and this fundamental arrogance would still make her art blow.

stop with the pointless guilt: liking medrano's work does not make you stupid or evil. however, if you stay in the kiddie pool of culture, if you refuse to engage with a diversity of art, if the hellaverse is your point of reference for anything media-related, you can't expect to have your opinions on art, media, or culture taken seriously. you have not earned a seat at the table. you gotta hit the books first.

i cannot emphasize enough how much incredible stuff is out there if you're willing to look further than what social media and streaming services put right in front of you. if you come away from this blog having learned about just one new artist or piece of art, i'll be a happy camper.

3. the hellaverse

a. empty and confused

hazbin and helluva's content and marketing has no clear target audience. the subjects are inappropiate for teens, but the execution is too childish for adults, and lemme tell you what i don't mean by that, first.

not inherently inappropriate for teens:

sex and sexuality

violence, including when it intersects with the above

politics and religion

not inherently childish:

animation (any style)

comedy

episodic writing and/or loose continuity

young characters

fun, happiness, optimism, the power of friendship, cuteness, tenderness, sincerity, etc.

what i mean is that these shows are literally about adult characters who fuck, smoke, drink, do drugs, go clubbing, work full-time, manage their own finances, and deal with stuff like bureaucracy, sexual violence, domestic abuse, marriage, divorce, late adoption, and family estrangement.

however, none of these "adult" things are given enough specificity to create drama or comedy. it's all too stock, vague, flat, weirdly sanitized, and thus utterly banal—pure aesthetics on top of bad saturday morning cartoons. it's exactly what i'd expect from a sheltered disney kid who needs to log off and get into their local gay scene ASAP so their only contact with things like poverty, policing, addiction, and sex work stops being facile movies and TV.

if the shows were aware of this and played with it, that could be amazing, but they're not. they give you the mickey mouse version of the world with a straight face and then play looney tunes sound effects to try to make you laugh and sad_violin.mp3 to try to make you cry. now that's funny.

b. old and tired

let's make like americans and pretend that the rest of the world doesn't exist. even within the confines of the USA, home of the hays code, the red scare, and reaganite propaganda, this neopuritan fascist state ruled by 1000 megachurches in a trenchcoat, the indie/underground animation scene has been doing crazier shit for decades. anti-war films in the 60's, bakshi movies in the 70's, the simpsons shorts and r-rated movies in the 80's, adult swim and MTV in the 90's, flash/newgrounds/youtube in the 00's, streaming in the 2010's—so what are we doing in the 2020's with this wet white rice drowned in expired ketchup? i feel crazy making this point because it's obvious if you've watched these things, but if you haven't, you're gonna be like "well, there's gotta be something new here". no! there isn't! in the words of jimmy "the scot" jordan, nothing, nothing, NOTHING!

c. ideological purgatory

actually, there is one thing in these shows i've never seen before: the presbysterianism. shout out some interesting or at least intentional presbysterian art in the comments, because the way these ideas are presented here is not compelling. it just makes the rainbow neoliberalism even more confusing and contradictory.

i guess the big presbysterian things are protestanism, calvinism, and, uh, big church government? presbysterians, get your shit together. get your brand down. catholics have BDSM and vampires, evangelicals have TV and corporatism; what do you have? celtic crosses? no wonder medrano has such uninspired ideas on divinity.

d. queer deficiency

when i look at a piece of art, i ask myself: "what does this give me that i can't get from the hunchback of notre dame (1996)?" if the answer is as limp as "uhh, gay people, i guess", i can probably look for my gay shit elsewhere and rewatch the hunchback of notre dame (1996) in the meantime.

but let's say that you have no standards. you've been waiting for ages for a show about gays by the gays for the gays, and by god you're gonna get it. this is it! here we go! time for some

generic twink obliteration

male sexuality as aggression and dominance displays

WLW (sex and chemistry not included)

a couple straight femdoms

and the stalest sex jokes known to man

...yeah, it's not very queer. and by "queer", i mean "questioning or subverting gender norms (including sexual roles) within a given cultural context regardless of creator identity and intent". i'm not a queer studies scholar so LMK if there's a more specific term for this, but whatever you call it, it's not in the hellaverse much.

there's not even any transness, literal or metaphorical, just ancient drag jokes. i guess the writers thought we would've been too controversial. so much for an indie animation studio that prides itself in the diversity of its staff both above and below the line, bakshi-style. i wonder how medrano, a bisexual woman, would've felt if told that a lesbian main couple in hazbin would be "too controversial".

4. spindlehorse and the vivziepop brand

spindlehorse toons underpays its overworked staff and keeps outsourcing more and more labor to even more overworked freelancers overseas to cut costs. a rainbow sweatshop is still a sweatshop, and just because these practices may be "industry standard" doesn't make them any more ethical.

the studio has also been repeatedly accused by current and former employees and contractors of creating a hostile and abusive workplace. AFAIK, it still has no dedicated HR person, and victims are too afraid of retaliation like blacklisting and online harassment to speak out.

this is exactly the stuff that unions exist to prevent. as i'm writing this, the IATSE (the parent union of TAG, which is the parent union of all US animation unions) is negotiating with entertainment industry executives for better working conditions, and if the execs fuck around like last year, it's strike time again. so watch this space, voice your support, and don't cross any picket lines.

i hope spindlehorse unionizes, but until then and for these reasons, i don't think you should give money to the company.

first of all, all content on amazon-owned platforms is ok to pirate, and all youtube ads are ok to block. everyone involved in making the episodes has (or should have) been paid upfront, so you're not taking the bread out of anyone's mouth.

next, let's look at the succulent offerings of the official vivziepop merch shop:

$10 pins and keychains

$15 sticker packs

$20 mugs and acrylic cutouts

$25 shirts

$30 metal cards (not even tarot)

$40 lounge pants

$50 mini backpacks

random $80 skateboard deck

forgive my latin americanness, but this is all stuff you can get made by a local metalsmith, print/sublimation shop, or just crafty people in your life. it's cheaper, customizable, and better for the environment to skip all the shipping and packaging. also, not painting your own skateboard is poser shit.

the hazbin website also has $15 pins, one $20 keychain, and $6 trading card packs. people are weird about trading cards, so if for some reason you wanna gamble for a mass-produced bit of cardboard, plastic, and tinfoil, at least bulk-order for all the vivziepoppers in your area so it's less of a huge waste. better yet, trace the designs and make infinite bootlegs.

at the end of the day, buying merch is not activism. your bulk order of trading cards will not save any wage slaves from getting evicted from their overpriced studio apartments. however, the shop links you to all the credited artists/designers, and more of your bucks will actually reach them if you buy their designs directly, then turn them into body pillows or life-sized bronze statues or whatever the fuck.

go through the credits of any episode of helluva or hazbin, and you'll find even more creatives you might wanna support. get jinkx monsoon's albums on CD. subscribe to actually good artist, animator, and composer gooseworx. lots of voice actors now have patreon, cameo, or self-hosted pages where you can write better lines for their characters and have them read it. these things may not look as shiny as Official Merch™, but we all need less plastic shit and more culture anyway.

[hearts-hunger]

Read on AO3 | Masterlist

Summary: Under the soft glow of the purple Halloween lights, Danny is sweet to you like he always is. || Sequel to Kitkat and Honeyglow

Pairings: Danny x Reader | Genre: fluff, hurt/comfort | Word Count: 2.4k | Warnings: drinking, smoking, mentions of wacky tobaccy, me not knowing anything actually about tarot cards (sorry)

A/N: Everyone say thank you to @spark-my-nature and go look lovingly upon this Kitkat 'verse Danny fanart she made that made me cry!!! Every Danny and Kitkat fic is dedicated especially to Miranda now :) I have at least one more fic for these two sweeties up my sleeve this spooky season, and I hope you like this short little fic! ♡

“Damn, Jake, how much tequila did you put in this?”

Jake laughed when you winced after the first sip of your drink, clinking his solo cup against yours.

“Beats me, kitkat,” he said. “You know I measure liquor with my heart.”

“Should start measuring with your liver,” you said, taking another drink anyway. “Lordy. I'm gonna be slap-out drunk after one drink.”

He cackled. “Slap out? That's weird. You're funny, honey.”

You grinned at the sloppy kiss he bestowed on your cheek as he went to rejoin the party, knowing Jake was well on his way to being slap-out drunk already. Most of the partygoers were in various states of intoxication, whether from the counter littered with half-empty bottles of booze or the weed that was being “discreetly” smoked in the back yard. One of the boys' friends had planned this bash to celebrate the beginning of the season at the haunted house attraction they worked for; this was sort of their last hoorah before nights and weekends became dedicated to scaring the bejeezus out of people for the next two months. You knew your boys were looking forward to getting back to work, and even though you weren't the biggest fan of haunted houses, you were happy to come and celebrate this year's reign of terror on the folks of your small town. 

You fished a Corona out of the cooler and went in search of your boyfriend, weaving through rooms filled with people talking and laughing and singing along to the Ghostbusters theme song playing at a blinding volume. Some were dressed in their costumes for work, getting in the spirit of things, and you politely sidestepped a ghoul and an undead nurse making out in the hallway. You spotted Danny in the living room, sporting a black hoodie and a backwards ball cap that somehow managed to tame his thick head of curls. He was talking animatedly to Sam, who was giving him a vaguely drunk but comically serious look of attention and consideration.

You'd almost made it to them when somebody in a clown mask started razzing the crowd, hollering and getting up in their faces. They all seemed to like it — it was just another day at the office for them, after all — but you stumbled back a little when he turned to you and held his hands up as if to snatch you.

“Hey, Bri, easy on the fright night with my kitkat.”

Your boyfriend’s kind reminder from behind you had Brian backing off with an applogetic laugh.

“Sorry, kid,” he said, muffled through his mask. “Forgot you weren't into all this. My bad.”

“That’s okay,” you said with a smile, thankful for the quick response. The actors who worked at the haunted house were very good about keeping things light and fun for all thresholds of thrill-seeking, even those as low as yours. Still, Danny's hand on your waist was a welcome comfort as Brian went off to scare somebody else.

“Thanks,” you said, turning to Danny. “I guess I should be used to this sort of thing by now.”

He smiled. “No sweat, kitkat. Brian's just funning you, but it's okay if you don't like it.”

You handed him his beer, and he accepted it with a word of thanks.

“This is my last one tonight, though,” he said, looking at your cup with a wry smile. “Somebody’s gotta drive us home, and if you're drinking some shit Jake made, no way should you be behind the wheel.”

Sam held out his hand for a taste of his brother's concoction, and when you let him have some, he coughed and spluttered.

“God damn, kitkat,” he said as you and Danny laughed. “You’re gonna be on the floor after that.”

“That’s the plan, Sammy boy,” you said cheerfully. You knocked back another swig and shuddered with the acrid taste. “Goes down real smooth.”

Danny chuckled and hugged you close to his side. “Having fun, kitkat?”

“Yeah,” you said with a smile. “Are you?”

He hummed in agreement around a sip of his beer. “It’s fun to be back with everybody. It's gonna be a good season, I think.”

The music crescendoed, almost rattling the windows with the volume of the synth.

“Do you know who you are yet?” you asked.

Danny leaned closer to hear you over the noise. “Do I know what?”

You stood on tiptoe and leaned on his arm. “Do you know what part you're playing yet? At work?”

He nodded. “Ah. Yeah. Werewolf again. It was such a big hit last year that they want to keep it around.”

You gave him a cheeky smile and a kiss. “It was a big hit for me too.”

He pinked a little, liking the compliment and the reminder of how you'd met. 

“Glad you're happy, sweetheart,” he said, a little bashful. 

Some of his friend wanted him to play a game of darts with them, and you stole one last kiss before you sent him on his way. You knew enough of his coworkers to hang out on your own, and the Kiszkas were milling around somewhere; you went to mingle and talk to some of the friends you'd made over the last year as you'd frequented the haunted house in the off season of repairs and updates.

Cindy, one of the girls who’d worked the zombie maze last year, took you by the arm and let you to where she and a couple other girls were messing around with tarot cards in the dining room.

“Your turn, kitkat,” she said, ushering you into the chair at the table laid with cards and fairy lights. “Time to seek your fortune.”

The girl telling fortunes shuffled the cards and fumbled a few with tipsy hands, and you laughed.

“Off to a good start, I see,” you teased.

“Just you wait,” she said with a grin. She laid three cards in front of you, and you watched curiously as she presented the lovers upside down, the tower, and the moon.

Your draw earned a low chorus of “oohs” from the girls around you. You didn't have the slightest idea what the cards meant and looked around at their faces to see what you could glean from their expressions.

“Bad news?” you asked.

Cindy gave you an uncertain gesture with her cup. “Dunno, kitkat. Looks like your love life is gonna get fucked up, your carefully laid plans are gonna get blown to shit, and you're in for some fear and confusion.”

“Aw, what the fuck?” you protested with a laugh. “Gimme some new ones. I don't like those.”

She waggled her fingers at you. “The cards tell all, babe. Better get with it.”

You let someone else have a turn, and though you enjoyed spending time with your friends, you couldn't help thinking about the cards you'd been given. You didn't want your love life to implode; you liked it just the way it was. 

When the girls pulled out a Ouija board, you declined being haunted and excused yourself to find Danny again. He was out on the porch, smoking a cigarette and finishing off his beer; you snuggled close to him in the chilly night air, thankful for his warmth.

“Saw you in there with Cindy,” he said. His handsome features were sharp in the purple lights strung overhead. “What were y’all getting into?”

“The future,” you said mysteriously.

He smiled. “Oh yeah? What'd you find out?”

You downed the last of your drink. “Well, we're about to break up, and then I'm gonna explode and die, probably.”

He laughed. “Well damn, honey. Is that all?”

“That’s all she wrote,” you agreed. 

He leaned his elbows on the railing, looking out at the spooky decorations in the yard, and you hugged his arm.

“Dan?”

“Hm?”

“I don't wanna break up and explode and die.”

He turned his face to yours, nudging the bridge of his nose against your cheek. “We’re not gonna break up, kitkat.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, half-serious. Maybe — certainly — it was the alcohol making your head fuzzy and your emotions wobbly, and you knew you were worried way too much about some drunken tarot reading that none of you had done correctly anyway. But you still wanted reassurance, and as he always did, Danny gave of his kindness and patience very generously.

“Kitkat,” he said gently. He brushed his thumb over your cheek. “I’m sure, sweetheart. I'd have to tear my heart out to ever live without you. You hear me?”

You blossomed under his touch, leaning close. “I hear you. I love you, Danny.”

He kissed you, and you felt his smile. “I love you, my sweet kitkat.”

You shared a cigarette under the soft violet lights, talking about the upcoming season and your plans for your anniversary that was only a few weeks away. 

“I think we should make it official and start a family,” he said.

You blushed, partly out of surprise and partly out of some insane pleasure at the idea. Of course you weren't ready for kids and he was only messing with you, but you didn't mind the thought of starting a family with him one day.

“Little Danny junior, huh?” you teased gently.

He grinned. “Later, kitkat. Let me marry you first. But maybe we could get a puppy and start practicing.”

You laughed. “Okay, honey. I like that idea. And the one about you marrying me.”

He pulled you snug against him. “I’m working on it. But, you know, rings that a haunted house actor and part time drummer can afford are kinda scarce.”

You slipped your hand under the purple lights on the railing and showed him a light resting on your ring finger.

“There,” you said. “Found a free one.”

He chuckled and kissed you. “You sure are silly, kitkat. I love you. And your free ring. It's very generous of you to find one.”

“Just doing my part,” you said, smiling up at him. You untangled your hand from the lights to brush your fingers over the curls that peeked out from his ball cap. “I love you too.”

When you ventured back to the party, you found that most everybody had settled out in the back yard for a showing of some horror movie on the projector. You and Danny found a spot on the grass to watch, and the Kiszkas joined you. You hoped it would turn out to be a slasher, since you were getting braver with that kind of scary flick, but you quickly found out it was something about ghosts or demons; you didn't watch it closely enough to find out. You hadn't quite gotten over your innate scaredy-cat nature to handle that kind of movie yet. Danny was absorbed in the movie and talking to the boys about it as they all enjoyed it, so he didn't notice that you were hiding behind your hands for a large portion of it.

Halfway through, when the movie was paused to let people refill drinks and snacks, Danny did lean over to check on you.

“How’s it going?” he asked. “This one’s not so bad, is it?”

“Um...” You didn't want to spoil something he was obviously enjoying, but you’d just about reached your limit for terror, even on a movie he thought was tame.

His expression softened with chagrin and worry. “Aw, honey. You don't like it, do you?”

His understanding made you brave enough to tell him the truth. “Not... not really,” you said apologetically. “I’m sorry, Danny.”

He shook his head. “You don't have to apologize, kitkat. I'm sorry I didn't notice earlier. We can go home if you want.”

You looked up as he stood. “Are you sure? I don't mind staying if you want to finish the movie.”

He offered you a hand up. “I don't want to stay if it's scaring you, honey. I'm happy to go home if you're ready.”

You took his hand, grateful for his kindness to you, and you said your goodbyes to the Kiszkas and the rest of your friends. The boys gave you some ribbing about still being a scaredy-cat, but you knew it was in good fun.

On the way home, you and Danny stopped to get something to eat and ended up camped out in the living room at the house he shared with the Kiszkas. You divvied up your Taco Bell orders as Danny queued something up on the tv.

“I think this one's a little more your speed, kitkat,” he said. “But you let me know if it’s too scary.”

The opening to Halloweentown started to play, and you nudged your elbow against his ribs and earned a sweet little giggle.

“Sorry, kitkat. I’m only teasing.”

He consoled you with a kiss, and as you sat together and enjoyed the movie that was indeed much more your taste, you found yourself watching him more than your were watching the movie. 

He chewed on his straw. “What?” He offered you his Baja Blast. “You want some?”

You smiled. “No, but thank you. I’m just admiring my lovely boyfriend.”

He grinned. “Yeah, I'm a real hunk eatin’ my weight in tacos and nacho fries.”

You patted his shoulder. “I like a man with a healthy appetite.”

He laughed and gave you a goofy smooch. “Good to know, baby.”

You broke out the candy after a while, grabbing a bag of the fun-sized Skittles and Hershey bars you’d been planning to save for trick or treaters in your more proactive moments. But you could buy more, and the boyish smile on Danny’s face when you tossed the bag in his lap was priceless.

“See, this is why I keep you around,” he said. He fished out a candy for you. “Your special candy, my sweetheart.”

You smiled when you took the Kit-Kat that looked impossibly small in his big hand. “Thanks, honey. I guess it is my special candy, isn't it?”

You broke off half of it and gave it back to him. 

“I didn't mean for you to share it with me,” he said, amused and kind. “But thank you.”

You gave him a quick kiss, candy-sweet and full of the easy love you shared, and he smiled as he pulled you close and deepened it.

“I love you, kitkat,” he said. “You know that, don't you?”

There was no way for you not to know. In his kindness and patience, his selflessness and sweet nature, Danny showed you he loved you until you thought your heart would burst with it.

“Yeah,” you said softly. You smiled. “I know it. I love you too.”

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[violetmuses]

Don't Hurt Yourself 🖤

Title: Don't Hurt Yourself 

Fandom: “Bad Boys” Film Universe 

Character: Armando Aretas 

Pairing: Armando Aretas + Female Reader

Main Storyline: Forgiveness is a virtue. 

Author's Note: Here's another request! Enjoy. ❤️‍🩹

@twinklestarslight

====

2024

“I'm picking up Armando from the airport. Let's ride!” Detective Mike Lowrey rocked classic sunglasses to beat Miami sunlight and took car keys, driving one of the flyest cars this afternoon.

“No, thanks.” Voices mumbled around the precinct and declined Lowrey's offer, focused on work for various reasons. 

Before Lowrey planned to leave the building on his own, he walked down another hallway and searched for you. 

“Hey, uh. Not sure if you heard me earlier, but I'm picking up Armando from the airport soon. Wanna ride?” Lowrey noticed you finishing paperwork, but skirted this break from that computer screen. 

“I'm good. Thanks, though.” You also refused the drive, which threw Lowrey off. 

“Uh-uh. I still have the Porsche and you always ride with me. What's going on?” Lowrey folded both arms.

“Nothing, Mike. I'm swamped.” You gestured to the mountain of files on your desk. 

“Shut down the computer and let's go.” Mike put his foot down. “You clearly won't tell me what's wrong and I really don't like this attitude.” 

Though annoyed, you listened to Mike and finally headed out for the day. 

______

Even while this radio played upbeat summertime music, you frowned and just wished to resume work at the precinct. 

Sooner than later, folks crowded this terminal as you waited next to Mike and sought one familiar face. 

“What's up, man?” Mike dapped Armando up once luggage stood nearby. 

Despite acknowledging the blazed heat outdoors, Armando chose this short-sleeved top with jeans. 

Meanwhile, you lifted these sunglasses and remained quiet, walking out of the terminal with Mike and Armando. 

______

“Look, I wasted my gas while driving and Spark won't even talk to you! What the hell is going on with y'all?” Bringing Armando, Mike ranted and offered one nickname for you. “Figure it out.”

Frustrated, Mike stormed out of the room and left you with Armando. 

“I'm sorry, baby.” Armando stepped closer to you, but you flinched away and refused his touch. 

“Went on vacation and you never called me back.” You shook your head, upset for good reason. 

“No excuses, I know.” Armando just lifted both hands. You exchanged phone numbers not long ago. 

“I forgive you, but  please don't do it again.” You say. “I just want you to feel better in this new environment.”

“I'll do better.” He vowed, leaving for his desk at last. 

[sneakyparsnipslicer]

The Cult Of Knives

[Sorry it's been a while folks, hoping you've all been OK. This came to me in a lucid dream. I've captioned all the photos so you can imagine what each character looks like, enjoy!]

It's an age old mistake, you've seen it in movies no doubt. One thing you never, ever find yourself doing is going within five metres of an abandoned cabin in the woods.

It all began late one afternoon, I'd left my apartment to go for my daily jog. It was a standard part of my daily routine by now; finish work, jog around town, go home. Plain and simple. Work kept me on a little longer that day so it pushed my jog a little further ahead. It wasn't so bad when I started, but soon enough the sky began to darken. On the outskirts of town is a field that leads to a bridge, and near the other side of the bridge is a forest. I used to go camping with my friends back in my school years, but now at 27 I don't really hear from them anymore. They all went off to do their own thing.

Anyway, as I got to the forest, I was relieved. I'd forgotten to go for a piss whilst at home and at least in the forest I could piss in a secluded area. I jogged a little way in, found a bush and did my business. When I'd finished I looked around, remembering those good times with my friends. I decided to have a look around for old time's sake. It's funny how places like these can hold so many memories for certain people. Right there by the river, that's where we all sat blaring Panic! At The Disco in the dead of night, that's where Charlie and Jeanette had sneaked off to have a little… fun. We were barely of the legal age back then, so funny looking back at it now, thinking we were giving the middle finger to society. And of course there it stands, The Old Murder Cabin.

The guys used to tell stories about this cabin, full of bullshit of course, used to scare the girls. Stories of there being an axe murderer living there who cut people up to sell as meat on the market. I remember once me and Paul had dared to break in there one night. It was empty, so it's safe to say the stories fell a bit flat after that. Shane never did forgive us for ruining that for us all. Still, it was like time had stood still here, like I was 18 again.

It was beginning to get darker now and I was thinking about heading back home when I stopped in my tracks. For a moment I could've sworn I heard voices. As soon as I started to pay attention they stopped. Had I imagined it? I cautiously crept along the wall towards a window, holding my breath I peeked in. Inside was the long abandoned kitchen, nothing seemed to be inside. I heaved a sigh of relief and chuckled, just my imagination. Though looking back in again I did notice that the table and chairs had been organised. When Paul and I had gone in years ago it was all slumped against walls and the chairs were upturned. Maybe someone had been living in there at some point. I felt like I shouldn't investigate and decided it would be wise to head home, that's when a huge hand with a cloth swooped out of nowhere, covering my mouth and nose. An arm tightened around my chest and though I tried to break free, the chloroform made short work of me.

'Knew I could see someone down by the river, like a moth to the flame!' someone laughed.

'You reckon he'll do?' asked another. I felt a foot sharply kick me in the side of my stomach and that's where I woke up coughing and spluttering, gasping for air.

'Transpierce, Sabre, restrain him' ordered another voice. Next thing I knew two blurry figures were hoisting me onto a hard surface and were busy on either side of me, fastening belts around my wrists. As my vision began to return to me, I could see that I was tied to the kitchen table inside the cabin. On either side of me stood two burly, hairy and muscular men. The room was lit by candles so this whole premise felt very unsettling and dreary.

'What's going on?' I asked, looking around for answers.

'Looks like you picked a bad night to stumble into the woods kiddo!' said a voice ahead of me. There stood another man built quite similarly to the two either side of me. I couldn't help noticing they were all shirtless, showing off their pecs and abs.

'Sorry, I thought this place was abandoned, I didn't mean to interrupt you all' I said, looking between them. The one ahead of me shook his head and folded his arms.

'Well to be fair it was until about a month ago, that's where I stumbled upon this place' he explained.

'Ah, love what you've done with the place!' I said, laughing nervously. At which they all chuckled in unison.

'He seems rather sweet doesn't he lads?' he asked the other two, to which they both nodded.

'Oh definitely!' said the man on my right.

'A perfect match!' said the man on my left.

'Good, I think so too. Transpierce, go and get Mateusz would you?' the man at the front asked as he moved over to take over his post. The man to my left, Transpierce nodded and walked off to the other room.

'Transpierce, that's an unusual name' I said, looking nervously into the man's eyes, I could only assume he was their leader.

'He chose it himself, we all do. I'm Bayonet, and our friend over there is Sabre' said Bayonet, moving his hands to examine my shoulders.

'Bayonet, that's a kind of knife, right?' I asked him. Bayonet smiled and nodded.

'Intelligent too! I appreciate a man that knows his knives!' he grinned, looking deeply into my eyes. I was feeling really uncomfortable by this point. We seemed to be getting along, but why was I still restrained? He looked up and down my body and sighed.

'It's a pity, you'd have been welcome to join my little Cult as you are, but there are certain… requirements I must enforce' Bayonet said. He left my side and walked over to the doorway that Transpierce had left through.

'Transpierce? Mateuz? What's taking you two so long?' Bayonet demanded.

'Just a moment Boss, he's almost ready!' called Transpierce from the other room.

'Good!' announced Bayonet, satisfied. He turned back to look at me.

'It's always a special occasion when we acquire a new Suit'.

What did he mean, suit? I was in my t-shirt and shorts, and they sure weren't wearing any suits. Bayonet turned his attention to a wooden chest in the corner of the room and pulled out a satchel containing various tools. As he searched the satchel, Transpierce returned to the room accompanied by a skinny-looking guy, either he was drenched in water or covered in some sort of gel that glistened in the candle light. I had to assume this was Mateusz.

'Alright then Matty, this is your moment. Your induction. In your own time' said Bayonet, turning around, holding a syringe and a bottle of glowing green liquid. Mateusz nodded hesitantly and made his way over to me. Our eyes locked and we regarded eachother for a moment. Not gonna lie, he was pretty cute, though he wasn't built and muscular like the other guys. He placed a greasy palm on my left leg and I shuddered. It was cold and strangely felt like a cut to the skin. He moved his hand slowly up my leg to my groin and the others stood back and watched.

Mateusz licked his lips and placed one hand on the table, hoisting himself on top of it, standing above me looking down, he gently lowered himself to sit on my crotch. I'm not usually into twinks but this guy was doing it for me somehow. He moved both of his hands along my arms to my restrained hands and filled them with his own, locking fingers with me. He moved to lay down on top of me and began to kiss me. This guy was good, tonguing my mouth and exploring, I could feel his hardening shaft grinding into me. He pulled away and I moaned. Whatever this guy wanted to do to me, I was his. He sat back up and began to pull his boxers off, letting his erect dick spring free. It had to be 7 inches long. I licked my lips, was I about to get to taste it? He moved to sit on my chest and he cupped my jaw in his hands, staring silently again. Then he moved to position his dick into my mouth and began to face fuck me. I so wished I could hold his body but my hands were restrained. As if they could read my mind, Sabre and Transpierce approached and undid the belt buckles, allowing me to put my hands on his bubble butt. I wanted all of that inside me. Mateusz continued to fuck, panting and groaning, eventually he came in my mouth and I swallowed his thick, creamy load. He pulled himself off me. I gasped for air as I laid down on the table, unable to take my eyes off Mateusz. Him unable to take his eyes off me, he caught his breath and began to smile, chuckling.

Assuming it was my turn to repay him the favour, I moved to pull my t-shirt off, but he stopped me, shaking his head.

'I'm not done yet, that was foreplay!' he said winking. I looked at him bewildered, face fucking was foreplay to him?!

It was at this point Bayonet approached with his syringe and injected the green, glowing substance into Mateusz's arm. It took a moment, but his skin began to glow green and the gel he seemed to have been coated in made him appear to turn rubbery. It was like he was now a hot, humanoid version of Flubber.

'Oh we're going to enjoy this!' Mateusz said, glowing before me. He squeaked and squelched as he moved and returned to sit atop me. He kissed me again, but this time his lips got sucked in, then his head began to get sucked into my mouth, squeaking as it went. I placed my hands on his shoulders and they ran down his slick body as it gradually began to suction into my own. As his torso, ass, dick, arms, legs and feet began to slide into me, my stomach began to balloon out and glow green under my clothes. The other men whooped and cheered. Underneath my skin, I could feel Mateusz repositioning himself, arms into the correct places, legs where they should be. My own skin was beginning to balloon out too, as muscle began to build, my clothes began to rip to shreds. I began to grow pecs and abs just like the other guys, my hands belonged to Mateusz now and he moved them below what remained of my boxers and began to pump our expanded dick. Both of us moaning in unison. I could feel my load getting ready to shoot and that's the last thing I can remember.

Mateusz groaned in pleasure as cum shot out from his new dick, two thick strings and then excess green liquid spewed out. He looked to the ceiling, sweat glistening on his new chiseled body. His friends surrounded him and smiled proudly at him, they'd been masturbating as they watched his merging with the captive jogger and moaned as they emptied their loads over him, christening him a new man, rubbing it all into his skin. Panting, Bayonet helped him to his feet and kissed him.

'Speak your new name, Brother!' he cried. Mateusz thought for a moment.

'Call me Machete!' he decided. Transpierce, Sabre and Bayonet looked between eachother and nodded approvingly.

'Very well! From this night forth you are complete, you are our beautiful Brother Machete!' said Bayonet proudly, hugging him tightly. Now they had four complete members to their ranks, in time their ranks would grow and the Cult of Knives would amass many more followers, but for now it was time they all got some action from Machete!

[nom-nommmm1]

Hi Oli,

I love your Lords Of Chaos stories so much, so could you write one for me? :)

I was thinking about Pelle x Fem reader, where she's Euronymous sister, and they have to keep their relationship a secret.

Xoxo and also I just saw that you write for some niche fandoms I really love, I can't wait for more stories to come

DIRTY LITTLE SECRET - PELLE/DEAD

Masterlist + taglist

AHHH HI ANON!! I’m so happy you like my stories! You’ll never know how much it means to me 🫶 also I’ve had ‘dirty little secret’ by The All-American Rejects stuck in my head FOR A WEEK truly amazing timing anon. But anyways, I look forward to see you request other fandoms soon. Also I didn’t know if you wanted to make this a smut or fluff so I’m gonna do fluff bc I’ve been in such a fluffy mood lol, request another if you’d like smut and I’ll gladly do it ❤️

Content warning !!: sweet!pelle x fem!reader, fluff?? There’s a suggestive part butt they don’t actually do it, kissing, hair pulling

The doorbell rings as the tussling of keys can be heard from Euronymous’ hands. “I got it!” I shout, opening the door to see Pelle standing there awkwardly. “Hey Pelle! You’re just in time, we’re all about to head to the movies” I say looking at the blonde haired boy, his cheeks turning a slight pink tone. “Oh yea uhm..Euro texted me” he says avoiding my gaze. He shuffles away from the doorway, letting Euronymous and I out. We all proceed to get into Euros car. “So are Faust and the guys meeting us there?” Pelle asks after a few minutes of nothing but the sound of the radio.

“Yeah, they’re just gonna be a minute since traffic’s pretty bad on their side” Euronymous says, putting his foot to the gas as the light turns green. Pelle nods, staring out the window, looking around at all the passing cars. I look at Pelle, he looks..tired? “You alright?” I ask. The blonde looks at me, seeming somewhat surprised by me breaking the silence. “Yea I’m fine y/n” he says looking back out the window to avoid the conversation.

The car pulls into the movie theater parking lot, we all get out walking up to the register. “Hello, what movie are we seeing today folks?” The cashier asks politely. “Three tickets for this movie please” Euronymous says, placing the money on the counter,pointing to a movie. “Of course, the concessions are inside” the cashier says handing us our tickets. Euronymous nods in acknowledgment, holding the door open for Pelle and I.

Walking up to the concessions counter Euro turns to us. “What do you guys want?” He asks pulling out a 20 dollar bill. “Popcorn and a slurpy?” I ask. “Sure sis, what about you Pelle?” He asks turning to the blonde. “Oh- I’m fine with whatever,” he says quickly, almost taken out of a trance. “Alright, you guys can sit down while I pay for this stuff” Euronymous says, pointing to the tables next to the bathrooms.

I nod walking over to the table, Pelle following close behind. We sit down. I look at Pelle, taking in his features as he refuses to look at me. “What’s wrong?” I ask putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Nothing y/n” he says moving out of my touch. Euronymous comes back with a handful of snacks. “Come help me get the rest guys” we all grab our own snacks and drinks. “Sorry you guys are going to have to share popcorn, I was two bucks short to get another” Euro said as we walked down to our designated auditorium. “It’s fine Euro” I say as we take our seats.

The theaters lights dim as music from the projector plays, the movie is finally starting after what feels like an hour of previews. I go to reach for the bag of popcorn accidentally putting my hand on Pelles, immediately pulling away. “Sorry” I say quickly before turning back to the movie. The movie continues on, the main character jumping out into the frame of the projector screen.

The audience chuckles as they say a joke as a criminal swings at them. I take a sip of my slurpy taking a brief glance at Pelle. I look away as I see his eyes look over to me. I lean to Euronymous, whispering in his ear. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom, I’ll be back” he nods as I get up from my seat, walking down the dimly lit movie theater stairs.

I walk into the bathroom, splashing water in my face, starting to sob into my hands. After a few minutes I hear slight knocking on the bathroom wall, a figure slowly coming into my line of vision. The figure comes closer to me, rubbing my back. “I’m sorry we have to do this” the figure says. “What..?” I ask looking up, at first confused but soon my confusion is clarified as I see Pelle, still there rubbing my back.

Pelle frowns, wiping my tears away. “I can’t stand to see you cry, but you know why we have to keep this a secret, right?” He asks coming closer to me. I nod looking into Pelles warm brown eyes. “I know, Euro won’t allow it” I reply sniffling. Pelles frown grows and he wraps his arms around me, putting his head in my neck giving me a small kiss.

“Just wait a little longer, we can convince him” Pelle says brushing my hair out of my face. I nod again looking at him glumly. “Hey it’s okay, I promise” he says smiling, waiting for me to smile back but I don’t. Pelle then puts me into a kiss, my eyes widen in shock but I kiss him back passionately. I wrap my arms around Pelles neck. Pelle kisses me harder, putting his hands on my waist, picking me up. “Pelle!” I yelp feeling his hands on my ass, lifting me up.

Pelle places me on the bathroom counter, pushing me against the mirror as his lips attack mine. “I missed this” he mumbles into my lips, coating them with our saliva. I giggle pulling onto Pelles hair. He moans in my mouth, biting my lip and touching up on my body. He’s about to undo his pants before we hear a voice of a staff member. “Get out of there before I call your mamas!!” The staff member screams banging her mop on the floor. Pelle and I bolt out of the bathroom making out to our movie auditorium. “Remember, keep this between us” Pelle says before opening the door for me.

“Of course” I say walking in. “Alright, I’m gonna wait out here for a few minutes so they don’t think anything” he says giving me a quick kiss before shutting the door, smiling.

SORRY FOR THE DELAY BBS IVE BEEN SUPER BUSY N THERES BEEN A BUNCH OF DRAMA W MY FRIENDS BUT IMMA TRY TO UPLOAD

Alt acc: @nom-nommmmworkspace

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[syoddeye]

the christmas party

ceo!price x reader / smut free / ~2.8k words

A very belated Christmas drabble thing. Definitely not inspired by real life events. 👀 Featuring a fem!Reader x Price, background Ghost x Soap, and Gaz, the incredi-boss. Might fuck around make this a series, we'll see! Maybe I'll clean it up and throw it on AO3, too.

CW: alcohol, substance abuse (mentioned) inappropriate comments from coworkers

You came to expect drama at the company Christmas party. It was as traditional as the optional White Elephant gift exchange, the hired group of carolers, and the ugly sweater competition.

Last year, a 'mystery' baggie of powder and a credit card belonging to the former Head of Sales was found in a bathroom stall. Two years ago, it was the unexpectedly raunchy dancing between an engineer and a project manager you swore hated each other. Three years ago, a division head went home with someone who was definitely not her spouse.

You'd seen a lot in your tenure. The good, the bad, the ugly, the hilariously mortifying.

Coming up on your fifth year with The 141 Group, you were a rarity. Most folks job-hopped. More power to them, no shame in gaining good experience after a year or two to leave for greener pastures. The fact you stuck around labeled you a 'veteran', a cheeky if not sensational label, though there were times you certainly felt like you'd seen war. Acquisitions. Rebrands. Reorgs. Yeesh.

But life at 141 suits you. You are an executive assistant, a good one. It helps that your direct supervisor and the VP of Finance, Kyle Garrick, a fellow 'vet', was an incredible boss. He lets you work from when you need to, doesn't micromanage, and treats you like a person, unlike other execs. He had faith in your ability to manage his calendar, prep materials, book travel - in short, you organized his work life. In return, whenever some new hire got too fresh with you, all it took was one teensy mention in a morning meeting, and by lunch, the offending party had only apologies for you. Most importantly, though, the job nets enough money to make rent and let you pursue your hobbies.

With years of Christmas parties under your belt, you were looking forward to tonight's low-grade yet cataclysmic event. Pre-gaming and primping at a fellow assistant's house, Jordan, you clasp the silver holly leaf pendant around your neck where it lies just above your modest cleavage. The dress code was simply 'Christmas Color', another tradition. Formal attire was expected, if not an unsaid requirement, which meant slipping into a gorgeous dark green dress you spied weeks ago in a boutique window. You thank yourself for earning that last pay bump to afford it because you look fantastic, in your humble opinion.

Lacing her leather Oxfords, Jordan gives a low whistle when you turn away from the mirror. "Like a big, sexy pine tree."

You smirk. "Thanks. Remind me why we both couldn't wear red tonight?"

"Because of the two of us, red is my color. Do I not look like some kind of holiday vampire?" She asks, standing with a sweeping gesture down at her deep, red velvet suit.  

"More bellboy, but-"

"Rude!"

The two of you lovingly bicker all the way out to the awaiting car. The 141 Group, ever mindful of its image, always reimbursed rideshares for its company parties. Given the amount of liquor that flowed at these events, it wasn't only generous but smart. Like the higher-ups needed a scandal. The car ferries you across town to the ritzy event space at a local art museum. Leaving your coats at the complimentary bag check, you enter the well-underway party.

The events team needs a raise, like yesterday. The sprawling space was completely done up. Several open bars, a champagne wall, a photo op with a to-scale Santa's Sleigh, and dining tables with place settings that probably rival a monarch. Silvery white birch trees enveloped in lights line the walls, with clusters of small fir trees fully decorated dotting the space. The dancefloor was already busy with a DJ fully dressed as Santa.

Four going on five years, and it was still quite the sight.

You gently elbow Jordan. "So. Cheesy themed cocktails first or canapes?" 

"Obviously drinks. I just saw one with an ornament in it!"

~~

Three hours in, it was a dead heat for Most Dramatic Event. Two separate calamities slowly built throughout the night.

At the nexus of the first, Chad from marketing was almost blacked out. After winning the ugly sweater with a true abomination of a sweater (working lights, a mini speaker, and an ungodly amount of sequins), he celebrated. A little hard. He bopped from open bar to open bar as the bartenders cut him off one by one. He was trying to convince a coworker to grab him another Mistletoe Martini, and it was progressively getting louder.

The second was from the rumor mill more than anything. Apparently, a developer named Scott brought the wrong gift for the exchange. As the story went, his wife used the same paper for an identically sized gift, one of a titillating nature, and now he was visibly paranoid that he nabbed the wrong one on the way out the door. The man stalked the pile of gifts as folks drew numbers.

Jordan bet on the first, and you bet on the second. From the corner, you watch, giggling behind a cup of Prancer's Punch.

The sound of your name drew your attention. Kyle, in a charcoal gray suit with a sleek snowflake tie bar and green tie, approaches with a Tiny Tim Collins in hand. Though you waved hello earlier in the night, he spent most of the evening in the company of who you deemed his 'buddies' - Johnny MacTavish, VP of Technology and Jordan's boss, and Simon Riley, the Chief Security Officer. You learned in your first month to leave the trio to it. 

"Having fun, are we?" Kyle grins and turns to observe the twin events. 

"I love this party. Every year, delivers just like Santa," Jordan gleefully said.

"Someone should stop them," You add, knowing nobody would. At least not Kyle.

And as if on cue, the man chuckles. "Not my circus, not my clowns."

The three of you chat, swapping bits of office gossip collected through the night. Not the most appropriate, but not the worst social crime, surely. You're the right amount of tipsy: warm and relaxed but solid.

The wager came up naturally.

"What do you want if you win, my pine tree?"

"Hmm. It's gotta be something outrageous but not a fireable offense. Hmm. Maybe I'll have you sing on a video call, pretend you thought you were on mute or something."

"...That's boring."   

"Do I want to know?" Kyle asks, sipping his drink. 

"We have a bet on who's gonna be this year's drama - Chad or Scott." You explain.

"Maybe I ought to get back…" Your boss said with a laugh. "Better not witness to whatever you two plan." 

"Might be for the best. Night, Kyle," You accept the brief hug from the man, then poke a finger against his chest. "Listen, if I get one DM about work during the holiday, I'm switching your coffee to decaf."

Kyle claps a hand over his heart as if he's been shot. "Monstrous. Fine, have it your way, no work during Christmas…Now, behave yourself, both of you." 

Watching him retreat back to MacTavish and Riley (who look quite cozy - perhaps another piece of gossip?), Jordan nudges you. "If I was into guys, that's who I'd be into."

"You and like fifty other people here," As Kyle's assistant, you're more than his Girl Friday; you're also a professional gatekeeper. You could wallpaper your apartment with the amount of cringy notes you've stopped from reaching his desk. 

"Not your type, then?" 

You whip your head back to Jordan, utterly horrified. "No way. Not that Kyle isn't an absolute dreamboat; he's just not my dreamboat. Plus, at this point, it would be so, so weird."

Jordan laughs. "Y'know, even though we've been work besties for a year, I don't think we've ever discussed this. What is your type? As dudes are not my specialty, I have no clue."

Your type, huh? As if you don't know. Your type's been the same for as long as you can remember. Big and brawny, the kind of guy who could haul you around. Dark hair. Well-groomed, well-dressed, well-endow–You could still make it onto the naughty list. 

Using better and cleaner terms, you relay this information to Jordan. 

"Huh. A man's man. Whodathunk–oh! Oh shit, look who it is!" The other woman pats your arm and gestures with a nod.

Joining Kyle and his buddies, is none other than John Price - CEO of The 141 Group. Fashionably late (very fashionably late), yet another tradition. Adorned in a Santa red suit jacket and a matching red tie, he somehow makes the boring dress code dashing. Flanking him is a pair of bodyguards. He's just in time for the wager to come to a head. 

God, he looks good. 

As Kyle's assistant, you see John fairly regularly. Not that he sees you. No one above a certain pay grade sees assistants. You kind of just blend right on in. Not even Mr. Riley, whom you've been introduced to a dozen times by Kyle himself, recalls your name. When you tag along to meetings to take notes for the boss man, you assume you're on the same level as a lamp or plant. That doesn't mean you haven't ogled John Price before. Kind of hard to not to, what with his commanding presence. You're kind of ogling him right now.

"Wow, you really do have a type," Jordan hums with a shit-eating grin.

"Shut up," You hiss into your drink and look away, just in time to see Chad from marketing lift a gift box-shaped ice sculpture and smash it onto the ground next to one of the open bars with a frustrated yell. The poor bartender and caterers jump back, and the music scratches to a halt. A thick silence fell over the party, impressive for a crowd of over a hundred, and your eyes flick to Mr. Price.

He glares daggers in Chad's direction, then nods at the taller of his bodyguards. Without hesitation, the man crosses the event space toward a petrified, drunk-crying Chad. As the guard hauls him away, your coworker, or former coworker, you assume, bursts into ugly tears and then disappears from sight. But your eyes are still on John, whose gaze turns to the DJ. The music starts again, as does the chatter. 

"Fuck yes," Jordan giddily whispers. 

"Well, shit."

"You know what this means, don't you?"

"...Unfortunately, yes. Yes, I do," You sigh and down the rest of your drink. "Before you swing the axe, let me grab another punch."

"Hurry back, I've got my thinking cap on," Jordan impishly smirks. 

With a groan, you make your way to the nearest open bar. One far from Chad's little tantrum. Most folks are on the dance floor at this hour, leaving this particular bar quiet. Waiting in line behind other tipsy coworkers, a clearing throat behind you grabs your attention. 

"D'you have a recommendation?" A low, gravelly voice from all your best dreams asks. 

You turn, and the sweet Hallmark-worthy image that blossomed in your mind in the last two seconds promptly morphs into a nightmare. Not a running-for-your-life nightmare, but a you're-the-only-naked-person-in-class nightmare. Laughable, considering the topic of conversation not three minutes ago.

John Price stands tall behind you, arms crossed, testing the fabric of his red suit jacket. He smells like tobacco and something spicy, and his eyes are a shade of blue you hadn't noticed before. You never got this close. They narrow slightly, and you realize you haven't answered him.

"Prancer's Punch." The name sounds cornier aloud.

"Hmm. Brandy or rum?" He sounds unimpressed. Was he unimpressed?

You're quicker to answer this time. Except, you babble. "It's, uh, made with dark rum. It's delicious. I've had a few. The cranberry juice isn't too tart, compliments the sparkling wine and–It's good."

Santa, run me over with your reindeer.

Kyle would be humiliated to have heard all of that. You are humiliated for having said all of that.

To your surprise though, the corner of John's mouth hooks in a smirk, then he chuckles. "How many qualifies as 'a few'?" 

You, apparently committed to acting moronically, answer honestly. "Five." 

It gets you an actual laugh this time. His hand raises up to scritch at his cheek, flashing the band of a watch you're certain is worth more than your life, then juts his chin forward slightly. "You're up, miss."

"Oh, no, Mr. Price, I insist, please-" You start to sidestep to let him up in line, but his hand lowers immediately and stretches out to stop you. He doesn't touch you, but the hair of your arm stands up at the proximity. 

John smiles again, and his head tips toward you. "I insist. Join me, Miss…?"

"Mr. Price?" A voice suddenly interrupts. The taller bodyguard that removed Chad steps up and steals away Mr. Price's attention. "The problem's been dealt with. Regarding…"

You don't hear the rest of the conversation because you hurriedly ask for a punch and bolt back to Jordan. 

And Jordan saw everything. Your heart is racing, and you miss half of her teasing. 

"You made him laugh. Twice. I don't think I've ever seen him smile, let alone laugh." 

"Because I basically admitted to being drunk!"

"Calm down, you're not, you're solid," She reassures. "Besides. You saw that death glare at Chad. If he was upset, I reckon you'd be on the receiving end of one of those."

You groan and take a swig of punch. You hope you've had enough of the good stuff to burn away the memory of your embarrassing rambling. You look back to Jordan to say something and find your friend once again grinning devilishly at you.

"I just thought of what I want for my victory."

Any time, Santa. Put me out of my misery.

"What?"

"So…You know #AskPrice?" 

You know where this is going, and your eyeballs nearly bulge out of their sockets. "Jordan. Please. No. Do not make me post something stupid there." 

#AskPrice was the name of the open channel at work. Anyone across the company could post questions for Mr. Price to answer. More often than not, it was a venue for bootlickers and kiss-asses to rain praises and share bad proposals. Rarely was there a legitimate question or a good idea.

"Darling, of course not. I have something far funnier in mind," She started, and you swore you saw the flames of hell itself in her eyes. "You're going to direct message Mr. Price and ask what he wants for Christmas." 

Jaw, meet floor. "Absolutely not!"

Jordan laughs and hooks an arm around your neck, pulling you in. "Come on. It's harmless. Believe me, I considered making you send a selfie or asking if you're on the naughty or nice list."

"He could fire me!"

"For what? It's just a question! He always says we're welcome to DM him."

To be fair, Mr. Price did say that at the end of every company-wide call or in email announcements. He always harps on 'transparency' and 'open channels of communication', hence #AskPrice. To your knowledge, however, no one ever takes him up on that, at least at your level.

"Jordan…Mercy. Please."

"My sweet pine tree, you lost fair and square," She releases you and pats your shoulder. "If it makes you feel better, I bet he gets a thousand messages a day. The notification will get lost in the noise."

It doesn't take much more prodding and encouragement from Jordan. Your phone ends up in your hand, and you tap into the chat app. Your hand shakes a little when you pull up John's username and open the message dialogue. 

johnprice - invisible Hi, Mr. Price. I was wondering what you want for Christmas?

Short and to the point. Jordan calls it 'boring', but you're already putting your neck on the line for a stupid wager. You're not risking anymore by dressing it up. Bet fulfilled, you press send, quickly turn notifications off, and shove your phone back into your little purse. Jordan rewards you with a squeeze to the shoulder.

"That was terrifying." You whine.

"That was a rush. Come on. Let's dance." 

~~

The next morning, when you're all but molded to your couch and housing takeaway, there's a little ping from your phone. It's the chime of the chat app.

"Kyle, for the love of everything, it's Sunday–"

You nearly drop your phone.

johnprice - invisible Hi, Mr. Price. I was wondering what you want for Christmas? > World peace. > I'd settle for a drink, though.

[olderthannetfic]

Re: discourse about using outliers / the worst examples of a group to justify generalizations-- this is also a problem with the femslash wank asks

I'm one of those filthy f/f folks who actually does want to see more femslash relative to mascslash, but I'm not anti-fujo or a terf or telling ppl to change their own tastes. I'm proship / SALS and kinkmato and I think fujoshi are great; I appreciate their massive contribution to fandom culture including AO3's existence itself

But some ppl seem like they just hate f/f fandoms generally and want a reason to bitch about us? and I've felt super demoralized by it whenever I read your blog lately

Like the complaints about f/f being too wholesome and fluffy and that this is somehow bad?? tumblr is C O V E R E D with cutesey fluffy bubbly m/m art using That Artstyle we all know and nobody complains about it. But when sapphic art is like this suddenly its cause we're boring sexless puritans who dont know what pussy should look like? The huge amount of kinky weird depraved f/f thats out there gets totally erased and the wholesome stuff gets scapegoated as a symbol of regressiveness.

Or the constant lecturing to "JuSt CrEaTe It YoUrSeLf" as if nobody who says they want more f/f would actually be making it??? How do you KNOW they're not making it? Are you stalking the tumblr of every ao3 f/f author to make sure they never expressed the opinion you hate , and vice versa??

Yeah a few awful ppl have been super obnoxious, terfy, or puritanical bullies with how they talk about this topic. But when you constantly bring those people up to demonize talking about it at all it feels like you're creating a taboo around it because you want those annoying lesbian feminists to shut the fuck up. Cause how dare we, right? How dare we express desire for something in a way that reminds you patriarchy exists.

You won't even let us express that we're bitter or sad about feeling like a minority even amongst other queer women. You won't let us express simple jealousy without interpreting that jealousy in the most terfy antiship bad faith way possible!

I won't defend those who actually harass ppl or moralize over ships. I won't defend anti-fujos. But when you constantly lump me in with those people just because I looked at AO3 stats and went "Hmmm, it would be cool if this was more balanced :/" or whatever it feels like you just don't want me to say anything at all

--

Is this about me personally? Yes, I agree that topics that are repetitive start to feel like an attack.

But with regards to AO3 stats, this is my pet peeve, as you probably know if you read here often, and I'm unlikely to stop being angry about it.

AO3 is extremely unusual in the history of fandom for being a very big, very multifandom site that is not m/m-specific but where m/m outnumbers other things. There have been large-ish slash archives before. There have been and still are other large, multifandom archives, from FFN and Wattpad, which are in AO3's weight class, to medium size ones like MediaMiner. The spaces that aren't m/m-specific generally have f/m vastly outnumbering m/m. They also make it harder to get stats than AO3 does.

I don't have an issue with people looking at overall fandom stats and complaining that f/f has the short end of the stick when it comes to fanfic broadly. I do object to people pulling only AO3 stats and going "The one anomalous clubhouse that looks like this is the problem" and pointing at m/m.

It's the same problem you point out, just in another direction. After being told "Okay, but the amount of m/m..." constantly for years, people are fed up and never want to hear it again. Even if it's phrased nicely. Even if the person saying it is also hurting.

[precious-little-scoundrel]

Dear John | Part 2

Masters of the Air Fanfiction

Part 1

Series Summary: Major John Egan wasn’t the pen-pal sort but a couple of hours into a dark night full of writing condolence letters he finds himself wondering why he never tried his hand at the nicer forms of correspondence. Who better to reanimate his numb inspiration than the glamorous Miss Lana Tierney? -the army’s girl next door, the pinup so prolific she was practically a wall paper print and Bucky’s long-standing cinematic crush. It’s not like she’ll read it anyways. Right? Right.

Warnings: suggestive language, crass vocabulary, the vintage form of sexting -honestly this is mostly fluffy in reply to his more overt letter

Author’s note: after episode four I’ve got feelings and fics for this universe that are far ahead of these establishing pieces. So I’ve gone ahead and tossed this preliminary one out but I may very well skip around and ahead to October next. At least now y’all know: she wrote him back. Hehe. If it’s of interest, I’ll probably end up writing John’s reaction to receiving this response as well as Gale’s response to realizing his friend actually went and sent that awful thing.

Date: Early August, 1943

Dear John, (I’m sorry Major Egan, I just had to)

Thank you for your kind letter of the 18th. It’s been many years since I received so delightful a correspondence or so candid an expression of admiration. And you should know I keep most of the letters the sweet people of this country send me. They’re stacked in quite an orderly fashion in my various garages, kept for the rainy days to peruse and keep the blues away and also so I might try very hard to reply. I don’t take such affection for granted. It’s humbling really, always has been, to be so loved by folks but it’s another level entirely to be singled out by someone as brave and impressive as yourself.

I found your letter to be heartfelt and wonderfully brave and in an effort to be equally transparent, you should know that when I finished it I clutched it to my breast and whispered half a dozen prayers for you. Or as you might say, I held it to my knockers.

That’s an awful word, you must know that Major.

As is “rack”, for that matter, but I’ve a sneaking suspicion that you would make it sound charming as even your blotted paper was electric. How could you dare to praise my film set flapjacks and mention making babies? I’m fizzing just glancing at it. You really must be quite the fella and I’m terribly sad now that our rendezvous, such as you say it was, got cut short. You must reprimand your friend -Buck, is it?- and tell him he did an bad deed that night. There’s nothing I like better than duets and hamburgers, we might’ve been one of the great loves by now if he hadn’t meddled. But don’t be too hard on him, if he’s the sort to take it well, kiss him for me, after you chide him.

But since we are being honest, I must admit, reading your letter, being privy to your thoughts, seeing myself through your eyes as it were - dear man, I feel rather riled. Quite riled, in fact. Why, I haven’t felt riled in a while, not like this. Not like an ordinary girl with an extraordinary boy. Do you know what I mean?

Maybe you don’t.

I mean regular, old fashioned flustered. That’s what you’ve made me. And thank you for that, John. Can I call you Johnny? I wonder if you’re the nickname sort, or if you’re real stern and serious, a real John-John. Not a Johnny at all. But either way, I think you deserve a treat, for being so nice, Major Egan. For reminding me I can feel my pulse somewhere besides my wrists before a show -and for all you’re doing in the war, besides. There seems to be no safer hands to trust this to, you do seem so very fond of them, I am led to believe you’d be protective of them, too.

Enclosed is something for the personal morale, I hope you’ll think of me nightly with it at hand, in fact, I’m so excited about it I’ve taken this ill advised measure to insure you do. I’d very much like a report, do they live up to your expectations? They’re homegrown, after all, I hadn’t much say in them but now I’ve got them, I don’t see why they shouldn’t do their bit to keep you alive. A small sacrifice.

One of those reasons you mentioned, John, you’ve so many of them, more than you know. A million souls over here rooting you on, insisting you make it out the other side.

I’m forefront among them, I’ll be scanning the crowd when I come to Europe -because I will, at your invitation. Perhaps if you send me a picture of your own mug I won’t be looking a fool asking every man in uniform if I remind them of an acorn. Are you going to tell me what on earth that means? I’ve tried to work it out but I always end up with some mathematical conundrum and I just know in my heart of hearts you wouldn’t let me down like that, would you Major? It’s something awfully salacious, isn’t it? Please let it be!

I’m a vain little thing and I can’t deny the way this poor heart of mine is all pitter pattering at the thought of you being so awful while also so nice. It’s a strange blend, and rather like my coke, I do prefer my men mixed.

Best wishes, may you have cloudless skies and fresh coffee to your heart's content. My sources -and I’ve excellent ones, an upside of working the war bond circuit- tell me you’re airforce. I think that’s remarkable and I hope you give that picture some thought. Mine, and yours.

Your vain little friend,

Julia Jean Turner

P.S.-I’m only ever ‘The Lana Tierney ‘ to strangers, and we aren’t strangers now, are we? not if you’re to take my picture to your bunk. i suspect you may have already taken that liberty. who’s to say I did not take similar liberties upon reading certain stirring passages of your letter? Xx 💋

__insert vintage titty pic__

Whew this week was a doozy wasn’t it? Here’s some fluff for those of y’all who needed it, and I can promise angst soon for those who want to stay in the soul shattering mood. Hope you enjoy. Feedback is a writer’s lifeblood, let me hear your screams.

Drop a comment to let me know if you’d like to be tagged in any of my MOTA fics. Xo

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