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radioisntdead · 5 months

Note

Hello hello for the third time!!

Once again, your fics absolutely BLOW my mind away!! And I'm here to request just a silly fic with Angel Dust (platonic) and a feral!child reader, who always gets into trouble with his workplace and the hotel?

(I mostly just wanna read Valentino be shit on lmao)

Yours Truly,

- XIN 💠

(P.S, I RLLY WANNA BECOKE UR FRIEND OMG)

Good evening my dear! You requested this at the perfect time because I had to stop the feral child I am related to from running over the elderly with a grocery cart so that's definitely going to play into this not the hitting the elderly with a cart but the general vibe, ALSO THATS SO SWEET OF YOU TO SAY, I'M OPEN TO FRIENDSHIP JUST MESSAGE ME ON HERE BECAUSE I DON'T KNOW IF I MESSAGE YOU FIRST IT'LL BE FROM THIS BLOG OR MY MAIN ONE (I've been on Tumblr for like 5-6 years now and I still don't know how it works) YOU WILL GET ME YAPPIN' ABOUT HAZBIN, SENDING RANDOM SNIPPETS OF MY WRITING WITHOUT ANY CONTEXT AND MILDLY ODD EDITS OF SOUP

@fuck-this-shit-xin

Favorite babysitter

(Or alternatively Valentino gets beat by a child)

Angel dust & child reader, platonic!!!

Warnings:

I got carried away, Valentino loses a wing and both Antennas, nothing graphic surprisingly no unholy jokes mainly because the reader is a child, this is a shorter one, mild OOC

Angel dust didn't mind children, he preferred not to be around them because well, he wasn't the most child-friendly person to be around

However it was just his luck that the hazbin hotel's resident feral child had decided he was their favorite babysitter.

You had shown up one day at the doorstep of the hotel with a note taped onto you just saying 'Good luck '

It was suspected you were some type of bomb at first but that quickly was pushed aside when it was found you were just feral, you weren't a bad kid you just didn't listen, climbed onto the walls, tabletops, bit into things you weren't supposed too but you could be a very sweet kid, playing with the Egg Bois, helping Charlie by drawing, helping Husk dry the glasses or hunting down roaches with Niffty,

That last activity had been banned since you almost stabbed one of the Egg Bois.

You were a very sneaky and little clingy thing that was evident with you latching onto his legs at random times, sometimes he wouldn't even notice you until it was pointed out or he looked down and bam! There you were wrapped around him like a baby possum sippin' on a juice box.

He made it a point to make sure someone was distracting you as he escaped the hotel to go to work, unfortunately for him Sir Pentious who was meant to be watching you was distracted by his egg minions almost smashing themselves while trying to recreate action movies and you ran after him following him through the city and into the Vee's tower, shockingly due to plot convenience you weren't noticed until Valentino was yelling at Angel dust for who knows what before any work could be done, he pulled out Angel's contract for whatever reason, maybe to make a point? You didn't really know but you didn't like that what looked like a giant dressed up purple grape was yelling at your favorite babysitter so with your little legs you stomped up to Valentino tugging on his wings that acted as a robe, he looked down in fury that quick turned into angry confusion

"Who the fuck brought their child to set?!"

Valentino shouted looking around as his employees looked around shaking their heads, a rush of pure panic rushed through Angel dust, when did you get here? He didn't even notice you? Wasn't Sir Pentious watching you?!

Before he could even get a word out you stomped your leg and pointed at him, eyes full of pure fury.

"Say sorry!"

"¿Qué? What did you just say?"

"Say sorry!"

Valentino leaned uncomfortably in, opening his mouth to say something but Angel had grabbed you in his many arms fully intending to take whatever hit Valentino could throw at you, however you had a different plan, with a large frown on your face you wiggled your way out of Angels arms and pounced onto Valentino, your little clawed hands tearing into his wings, leaving small puncture wounds behind as you climbed up him, the contract that bounded Angel dust's soul to Valentino floated down to the ground.

Valentino yelled out words you couldn't quite understand as his wings flared out, you took the opportunity to steal his hat and bite into it tearing it apart before throwing the remaining fabric onto the ground.

The unholy studio's employees could only watch stunned as you grabbed onto his antennas completely ripping them off, if he couldn't fly because of his damaged one before, he definitely had no hope of it now.

Valentino dropped to the ground screeching, arms reaching up to throw you off only for you to start crawling around his back like a little bug leaving more scratches and wounds

Angel dust once he recovered from the shock of you absolutely tearing apart Valentino tried to grab you fully intending on taking you and booking it to the hotel where you'd be safe,

Unfortunately you were freakishly strong and in angel's attempts of trying to pull you off ended up pulling one of Valentino's wings out.

"Are you going to say sorry now?"

Valentino let out a groan of disoriented pain,

That didn't sound like an 'I'm sorry' to you, so you climbed up his remaining wing and ripped a large chunk of his fluff from it, Niffty would be proud!

"¡Lo siento! ¡Lo siento, solo vete!" the still disoriented Valentino shouted from the ground,

You smiled as you stood up from the overlord and skipped towards Angel dust, your eyes caught the contract that had floated to the ground, now you didn't know what it contained because you couldn't read but you assumed it probably meant something to the purple guy and so you decided that you should rip it.

"[Name] get over here' I gotta get you outta here before-" Angel dust started as you swiped the contact off the floor and ripped it to shreds, the smoke-like chain briefly appeared around Angel dust's neck before breaking apart and whooshing away.

Angel was stunned for a moment before a large grin broke out on his face, before anyone could say anything he picked you up, raised a certain finger up and shouted that he was quitting, after all Valentino didn't have his soul anymore, and frankly the work environment would be awkward now to say the least since a child had just inflicted permeant damage to his now former boss, he could find another job.

Unfortunately someone who didn't have good morals called the security team and now Angel dust was running down the Vee's tower holding you, he would pull out the guns that he kept in I assume his ribcage or something but you were right there and the gunshots would hurt your little eardrums, eventually the two of you outran them and returned into the safety of the hotel.

Angel dust sat you down on the ground as he breathed in, catching his breath while Sir Pentious rushed to you lifting you up while asking where you were before looking at Angel in confusion.

"Aren't you ssssssupposed to be at work?"

"I quit! Lil' chronic juice-o-holic over there ripped up my contract and fucked up Valentino! hAh!" Angel said still trying to catch his breath as you slipped out of Sir Pentious's hold and ran to go bug Husk for a juice box.

The news of you ripping Valentino's antennas and a wing out made hotel news, you were lightly scolded by Charlie about taking the violent route but she gave you ice cream and bought you a toy as a reward, Alastor saw great potential in you, Husk patted your head saying that you did good, Vaggie would eventually decide to teach you how to fight, you got being feral down but it couldn't help to teach you to be more calculated, Niffty was happy when you gave her the big clump of fluff for her collection, she already had some from her earlier interaction with the now antenna-less moth but more couldn't hurt!

And Angel dust, well he owed ya big time although he did scold you for following him into a dangerous place [thank goodness you didn't see anythin' unholy or Vaggie would've had his head!]

He spent a little more time with you the following week before he decided to do some job huntin', he would sneak you some candy or a extra juicebox when he could, and the two of you would watch kid friendly Disney or dreamworks movies on the hotel's TV.

Valentino laid down in his hospital room, full of fury that he got injured by a child of all things, a small child that had some type of connection with Angel dust who's soul he no longer owned, he swore that he would get payback against the child, unfortunately for him the mere presence of that child would strike enough fear into him that he wouldn't be able to make a move, and even if he could he wouldn't be able to do anything to the feral child.

He got off easy this time, he wouldn't be as lucky the next he messed with your favorite babysitter again.

Good evening folks! Hope you enjoyed! I'm working on getting the older requests in my inbox done and getting them out next week along with the 100 followers fic with Angel dust! So tune on in for that! Goodnight folks!

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #Angel dust & reader #hazbin hotel angel dust x reader #angel dust x reader

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sluttywonwoo · 11 months

Text

instead of you [part thirty-one] || l.mh

pairing: [best friend’s brother] lee minho x college!reader ft. han jisung

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either.

warnings: swearing, smut (mdni)

word count: 2.3k

a/n: revamped my tom holland series from my main blog ( @wazzupmrstark ) to try and motivate myself to finish it!!

series masterlist | early access to the next chapter on ko-fi

additional smut warnings: edging, orgasm denial, spanking, protected sex

It was in fact, not the last time you would sleep with Minho. Despite saying so, you continued to sneak into his room every night after Jisung fell asleep. You’d fuck, sometimes twice, and then go back to the room you shared with your best friend like nothing happened. To say that the guilt was eating you alive would be an understatement. But for whatever reason, you didn’t stop.

All it would take was a single look from Minho, a glimpse of him shirtless in the pool, a smirk directed at you, and you’d decide you needed him. You were so weak when it came to him. It was pathetic.

Minho always let you do the initiating when it came to sex. He never pushed, but he didn’t exactly try to deter you either. At first, you convinced yourself that it was just because he was like every other twenty-something-year-old guy: always horny. Never one to turn down getting laid when the opportunity presented itself. But every time you hooked up, you’d notice things that seemed to suggest otherwise.

Like how he always put your pleasure first. That could simply be attributed to him being a good lover, but it felt different. It wasn’t like he was trying to get you to cum as fast as possible so that he wouldn’t have to worry about it when it was his turn. No, he took his time with it, wanted to make it last because he genuinely enjoyed making you feel good. It seemed like each time you had sex he was trying to make you cum more times than the last. And then afterward, when you were both still catching your breath, he’d hold your hand, play with your hair, coax you into staying five extra minutes, things that friends with benefits don’t do.

You’d be a fool to fall for him. But it was far too late for that. You had wanted him before you ever slept together. Before he kissed you for the first time. And now that you’d had him, you didn’t want to go back.

You can tell Minho feels guilty too. You see it in the way he looks at Jisung when his back is turned. He’s less vocal about it than you but you know it’s there.

The second to last day in Bali is spent hiking. Your foot had mostly healed by then, but the news was still devastating to you.

“Do you ever read the itinerary?” Jisung groaned upon hearing your complaints.

“I like being surprised.”

“That’s a fucking lie,” he said, calling your bluff. “You’re just lazy.”

You gasped and held your hand to your heart, feigning offense. Jisung rolled his eyes at you.

“Come on, get up, get dressed. It’s matching t-shirt day.”

“Nooo, I forgot about that.”

“You only have to do it one more time after this,” he reminded you.

Only one more time. That’s right... there was only one more stop on the trip before you all flew back to Seoul and spent the last two weeks of summer there. You expected to feel relief but you were filled with anxiety instead. You couldn’t pinpoint the reason as to why but you suspected it had to do with the whole fucking your best friend’s brother behind his back thing.

“You still with me?” Jisung asked. “Did you zone out?”

“Yeah, sorry.”

“S’alright. We better start getting ready, though.”

You nodded absentmindedly and made your way over to your suitcase to grab a change of clothes. You were moving on autopilot, not even aware of what you were doing until suddenly you were fully dressed and ready, sitting between Felix and Minho at the kitchen bar as Jisung blended up a smoothie for the four of you.

You couldn’t remember brushing your teeth or putting on sunscreen but your mouth tasted minty and your skin was sticky from the lotion.

Minho nudged your elbow. “You okay?” he asked.

“Fine.”

Jisung glanced at his older brother and then you, sliding your smoothies across the counter wordlessly.

“Thank you,” you practically whispered as you accepted yours.

Did he know? No, if he knew he certainly wouldn’t be speaking to either of you. But did he suspect? It wasn’t like you and Minho were being that careful... he could have easily picked up on what was going on.

You tried taking a sip of your smoothie but it wasn’t melted enough to go through the straw.

“Here,” Jisung said, leaning over the bar to stick a spoon in your cup.

“Thanks, babe.”

He winked at you. “No problem.”

Okay, so maybe he didn’t know and was just annoyed with Minho. That could also be an explanation.

Jisung’s parents assured you that the hike was an easy one but you were still skeptical. Hiking in general was an activity you preferred not to partake in, regardless of the level of difficulty.

You liked getting out and going places... that were inside.. with air conditioning. Hiking, kayaking, cycling, all on the list of no’s for you. You were simply not an outdoorsy person. You’d much rather go to a tasting at a local brewery or sit through a play in a language you didn’t understand. To be fair, the trip had a good balance of both, so you couldn’t complain too much. The Hans, on the other hand, were outdoorsy people so you should have seen it coming anyway.

Getting to Campuhan Ridge required a short bus ride over to the site for the walk. You sat on Jisung’s lap since it was so crowded, listening to him argue with Felix about fruit.

“They are good for you!” Jisung cried in exasperation.

“All I’m saying is that that much sugar can’t be healthy.”

“It’s naturally made sugar- I’m the one in culinary school here! I know what I’m talking about!”

The hike turned out to be relatively easy, as Nikki and Dom had claimed it to be. It wasn’t too high up either. Views of rice terraces and forests stretched on for miles in each direction, greenery as far as the eye can see.

The only downfall was how hot it was. You were sweating not even ten minutes in and the baseball cap you were wearing did nothing to block out the sun.

You stopped somewhere in the middle of the walk to take some pictures. It had been Nikki’s idea since she’d brought her Nikon along with her, but Jisung also asked Minho to take a couple pictures of just the two of you while Felix did the same thing for their parents.

You wrapped both of your arms around Jisung and smiled as wide as you could manage. Jisung smiled too, squeezing your hip.

“Okay, now do something different,” Minho directed. “The smiling is boring.”

You shrugged and raised yourself on your tiptoes to kiss Jisung’s cheek. “O-okay that’s good too,” Minho muttered.

Jisung chuckled quietly, his body vibrating beneath your lips. It made you lose your balance but your best friend caught you before you could stumble.

“Woah, you alright there, y/n?” Dom called as he, Nikki, and Felix rejoined the three of you.

You clung to Jisung and laughed. “Yes, thanks to him!”

“It seems like I’m always catching her,” he sighed. “Where would you be without me?”

“Dead, probably.”

His mother smiled fondly at your little display and you patted yourself on the back internally. You still had a role to play, after all.

The sun had drained everyone so you headed back to the resort early. Felix and Minho went to pick up some take-out food while the rest of you showered off the day and waited for them to return.

After dinner, you ended up in Minho’s bed again. It was routine at this point. Pretend like you’re going to bed with everyone else, wait for Jisung to fall asleep, wait fifteen more minutes to make sure he’s really out, and then sneak off to Minho’s room. His room was all the way on the other side of the treehouse thing you were staying in which was both fortunate and unfortunate. It was fortunate because it wasn’t close to Jisung where you might accidentally wake him up, but it was unfortunate because it meant you had to walk through the entire place in the dark to get to it.

“Took you long enough,” Minho had grumbled when you showed up.

“Aw did you miss me that much?” you teased.

Apparently, he wasn’t in the mood to take his time with you because in a matter of minutes he had you pressed face down on the mattress as he fucked you from behind, holding on to your hips so tightly you thought he might leave bruises in the shape of fingerprints.

It was a position the two of you hadn’t tried together yet but you were already loving it. Minho could go faster and deeper than when he was fucking you in missionary and it had you on the edge in record time. Except he wasn’t letting you cum.

For whatever reason, every time you warned him that you were close, he would slow down or come to a complete stop, waiting until the feeling had passed to start again. He even held you in place so that you couldn’t fuck yourself back on his cock and finish yourself off- he’d learned to do that after you’d tried to do it the first time he denied your orgasm.

“You’re so mean!” you sobbed, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. He’d stopped again, ironically rubbing your back soothingly as the pleasure ebbed away for the umpteenth time.

Minho just laughed and pulled you up by your hair so that he could look at your face. “No, I’m not.”

“Yes you are! I need to cum and you won’t let me!”

“That’s your fault for telling me you like to be edged.”

God damn your big mouth. You didn’t even remember telling him that but you didn’t doubt that you had because it was true. You did like being edged but this was torture.

“Don’t listen to past me! Listen to present me!” you begged.

“Nice try.”

“Fuck!”

He started moving again but slowly. It wasn’t enough to make you cum but it did make you even needier. You gripped the bed sheets as he thrust into you over and over again, trying in vain to get him to go faster.

“Always so fucking wet for me,” Minho hissed, slapping your ass lightly. You yelped in surprise. “Shh, baby.”

“I’m trying!” you whispered.

“Try. Harder. Then.”

You wanted to quip back but the words died on your lips as you felt the coil in your stomach tightening again. You didn’t tell Minho this time, hoping that he wouldn’t notice. He did, of course. Your pussy was fluttering like crazy around him and you weren’t able to control it.

Minho stopped completely, this time snaking an arm under your body so that he could pull you up on his lap. You cursed under your breath at the change in angle.

“You were about to cum without saying anything, weren’t you? Fucking brat.”

“I forgot?” you mumbled.

He scoffed in disbelief. “You’re really testing my patience, you know that?”

“I guess it’s a good thing it turns you on then.”

Minho let out a sound of annoyance and brought his free hand down to your cunt so that he could rub your clit. The smirk fell from your face immediately.

And then he started moving his hips, just enough so that your g-spot and your clit were being stimulated at the same time.

You whimpered out that you were close when you felt your orgasm approaching again, which seemed to please Minho. But he wasn’t going to let you off that easy.

“You want to cum? Beg for it.”

“Please, Minho! Please let me cum, I’ll be good, I promise!”

You didn’t hear what he said next because your ears were ringing from the intensity of your climax. You were vaguely aware of him cumming right after you but you didn’t register much aside from his body going tense underneath yours. You rode out your orgasm until the spots in your vision subsided and your legs stopped shaking, flopping onto the bed like a ragdoll.

Minho was quick to lay down beside you, having recovered from his orgasm much faster than you had.

“That wasn’t too much, was it?”

You shook your head. “It was perfect. I don’t think I’ve ever cum that hard in my life. Not even by myself.”

You probably shouldn’t be feeding into his ego so much, but considering how good he was in bed it was at least a little deserved.

He grinned proudly and rolled onto his side to kiss you. “I’m glad.”

You took another shower before going back to bed. That had become another part of your routine since you started sleeping with Minho regularly. You’d take a shower before dinner for the sake of appearances, and then you’d take a second shower after messing around with Minho. There was no way you could just hop back into bed with Jisung all sweaty and gross. It would be a dead giveaway, not to mention disgusting.

The second shower always made you feel dirtier than it did clean. It felt like you were washing off the evidence not only literally, but figuratively too. You supposed that was to be expected, though. What wasn’t to be expected, however, was your best friend waiting outside of the bathroom for you when you got out of the shower.

You jumped when you heard his voice, nearly knocking your head against the wall. Your eyes had yet to adjust so it was hard to see him but he was there, arms crossed over his chest defensively. You already knew what he was going to say before he said it but the question made your blood run cold nonetheless.

“Is there something going on between you and Minho?”

sorry for skipping out on the taglist again- I'm babysitting tn so I'm posting from my laptop (lmk what you think though i always appreciate feedback!!)

add yourself to the taglist here!

#hm all black and white pictures #surely that means nothing #instead of you stray kids #instead of you skz #iou stray kids #iou skz #stray kids smut #skz smut #lee know smut #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids x female reader #lee know x reader #lee know x female reader #lee know x bi!reader #lee minho x reader #minho x reader #minho smut #lee minho smut

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ggggggfft · 1 year

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Have you ever helped detransition someone before, if not outright forced their detransition?

That depends on your definition of “forced.” I would say I have coerced girls into detransitioning, but the ones I’ve toyed with have always wanted to be stripped of their faux masculinity in the most humiliating ways. I give them plenty of opportunities to walk away. To say no and try to abandon this particular kink. But they always - Always come crawling back telling me how drippy are for transphobic porn. How they need Daddy to fuck their little girly pussy and turn them straight. They can’t help it. Craving dominate male seed and obeying their biological urge to reproduce is literally hardwired into their smaller brains. They will always be female first and fakeboys second.

My first experience with detransing was with my ftm girlfriend of several years. He was a she when we first met and started dating and when he finally worked up the courage to transition he only did so socially. I continued fucking his soft, womanly body and playing with his massive tits like nothing had changed, because aside from a few key words and a new name, there was nothing different about her. We were still having straight sex with my cock buried deep inside her slutty testosterone free pussy. She still loved to have her nipples teased and played with and it made her so wet. She was still fertile and could get pregnant at any time. She wasn’t on birth control.

After about two years of being out and still no HRT we began to play with her gender in the bedroom. She liked when I told her to take it like a girl. That I was raping her like a girl. That she would be a good girl for Daddy’s cock and let me use her pussy. In her mind, it was all pretend, playing into her fantasies of being a femboy. For me it was the perfect way to subconsciously train her to enjoy her body as it was. For her to come to terms with her birth sex and accept her womanhood. To go back to being my girlfriend. We broke up and to this day she is still going by he/him pronouns, but she has had no surgeries and while she did recently start hormone therapy she is taking the lowest dose possible. She has a very cute little mustache and gets misgendered every day by strangers, coworkers, and even supportive family members who are fully aware she is trans and has been for years.

We fuck now and then and when we do she asks me to fuck her cunt instead of her ass and get her pregnant. She calls her clitoris her babydick or even her boyclit and the last time we fucked I was testing the waters and called it her clitoris and she said nothing in her defense. Every time I pull her pants off she’s wearing panties and she will “cross dress” if I tell her too. I’ve never come out and told her about my fetish but I feel like part of her must know or at least suspect the truth, and yet she still can’t keep her legs closed around me. She’s my long term project and I hope as her biological clock starts counting down she finally cracks and gives in to what she obviously needs.

What really kicked off my hunt for fakeboys was a girl here on tumblr. I liked her blog description, she was 18, and she had reblogged so many posts begging for transphobic asks and rape threats. I sent her what I now think was a pretty mid dm describing how I’d fix her if she was my daughter and I found her blog. She responded by sending me pics of her shaved teen pussy and begging for more filth. I was hooked after that. She’s now fully addicted to misogyny and incest porn. She’s my good little zoomer slut who I can always hit up for pussy inspections or to make her drink her own piss. She fully accepts that she is a woman in mind, body, and soul, but we agree she should continue hormone treatment because it makes her even more horny and depraved.

She has gone out in a wig and breast forms and dresses in public for me and will sit in cafes with her legs spread and her big red cherry and drooling slick cunt on display for the world to see. She’s terrified of being clocked and actually hate crimed every time, but she just makes such a convincing cis girl that nobody ever notices. As soon as she gets home she gets on cam with me and rubs her clitoris while thanking me for showing her what a dumb tranny she is. I have her crouch in front of the camera and finger herself until she squirts onto her gym clothes for tomorrow. I have her chant that she is not a man. She will never be a man. She is her cunt and cunts are slaves to cock. I have her endlessly repeat that she wants to be a girl because girls are stupid and inferior and get to be dumb, brainless cumrags eating ass and getting fisted all day long while she jackhammers a dildo into her sweaty cunt.

She started out wanting to be misgendered and feminized, but I’m proud to say I broke her. If it doesn’t involve detrans and misogyny, she can’t get off any more. We’ve discussed it and if we were to move in together, with her coming to a new city in a new state where nobody knows her she would definitely detrans for real.

Right now I’m working on a girl who hasn’t come to terms with the reality of her desires. She is also a filthy sex slave but she insists on using those annoying he/they pronouns. She’s entertained the idea of becoming my good girl all the way, but is still reluctant. I get so turned on watching her try to resist her desires but knowing it’s futile in the end. if I want her to be a girl, she will be a girl. End of story.

Last night I had a great session with another ftm who started out being unsure and using he/him, but by 4 in the morning I had her telling me how she wanted my big fat cock to fuck a baby into her in front of her family. How she wants her dad to see his grandson being made. She fell completely in love with her vagina and the pleasure it can bring real men by the end of the night.

I’m waiting to sniff out the perfect gold-star tomboy faildyke to forcibly detrans. I want her to be defiant and tough and mean as hell so that when she’s a fucked out set of holes who only lives to worship men and get pregnant and give birth and has an IQ of 50 and giant plastic tits that victory will feel all the more glorious.

There are others but this post is already so long. If you’d like to make it longer, you can always dm me or send anons if you’re nervous. I love knowing there’s a shy girl behind the screen somewhere frantically rubbing her clit to these asks.

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loving-n0t-heyting · 2 months

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This anon (from a few days ago now) requires some context, which i will provide shortly. I am going to operate on the (not fully certain) assumption, which i have pieced together from several context clues (not to be provided here, for privacy's sake), that it was part of the campaign of harassment i received for my opposition to the promotion of probable scams as spurious and inefficient forms of charity. (Feel free to take this answer as seriously as you trust my inference on that point)

In 2022, an acquaintance of mine named emma was shot and killed. Her friends and comrades were subsequently arrested and charged for alleged crimes related to the shooting, and for the last almost 2yrs i have been making some effort to help them in subsequent legal trouble

The man uncontentiously directly responsible for killing emma remains at large, protected by and aligned with the state, and likely knows of this blog and my identity. It is not implausible to think he bears some grudge against me. There are members of law enforcement involved in the ensuing legal conflicts who also plausibly bear grudges against me, associated with one of the statistically most homicidal police forces in the country. They, too, i place nontrivial credence on knowing of this blog, and have as agents of the state considerable scope and potential impunity for stalking and retaliation

I now suspect (and hope) this ask was made as part of the inane torrent of jeers and idle threats directed at me and my friends over the controversy about gaza gofundmes, but at the time i received it this context was not at all clear and, ofc, i had no way of telling whom it might be from

I generally avoid talking about this topic, out of respect for the privacy of my friends involved, but the above is all either public knowledge or reasonably inferrable from the same, and more relevantly would likely have been known to the person sending me this message, including my inability to discern it from a threat from a party with a possible real life motivation and capacity to kill me

Emma is dead. If she is waiting for me, she is waiting for me in death. This ask, therefore, reasonably and seriously caused me to fear in the immediate term for my life. This is not harassment or hatemail: it is an act of criminal intimidation and an atrocious abuse of emmas name and memory

There can be no possible excuse for subjecting anyone to such drastic and credible threats over this kind of online political disagreement. I offer it as a particularly extreme example of the abuse to which my friends and i have been subjected for our righteous, if meagre, contributions to the political discourse, and as a rebuke to the coward responsible for sending it. Yours is a craven pettiness and spite worthy of the idf. For shame!

I know i said i would back down from the topic, but this was too important to omit

#ask #anon #forgive the self seriousness #if anything is a fair opportunity this would be it #faildaughters of the world unite

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kit-williams · 5 months

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Barn Anon. Here's another one, my foot is numb cuz dog's sleeping on my lap and I can't move.

Pregnant? His human is pregnant? Gabriel nearly knocks his human over when he rushes to hug her. She's crying? Don't cry, unless it's out of happiness. He purrs and kisses her cheeks, he plucks the pregnancy tests from her hands to look at the results himself. They've made something! Would it be a boy or a girl? He's torn. He's had brothers for the bulk of his life but a little girl that looks exactly like his human?

He purrs happily and peppers her with kisses, good little human, he'll take care of her as her pregnancy progresses. He'll handle all the housework so she can rest and focus on growing their child. Their little miracle. Perhaps it's not as much a surprise to him as it is to her. He is aware of a few of his battle brothers with bonded humans that are "single mothers" with little ones that look suspiciously to those Blood Angels. Maybe it is mostly his fault for not using protection when he's fully aware of this possible end result. But... this can be a little surprise from him to her right?

He rumbles as his human mutters about needing to set up check ups and a nursery. He can handle the nursery, can he go with her for her check ups?

Set after Gabriel's Valentines day special

You feel your leg bounce as you rub the barely visible bulge on your stomach. You know exactly who the father is... given that he was the last person you had sex with. Gabriel coos to your softly sitting on the floor next to you trying his best to comfort you. Oh God you were an Astartes-fucker... and you got pregnant! He rubs your hand as he is certainly feeling your panic rising.

Gabriel should feel guilty as there was a possibility of getting his dear human pregnant but he just wanted to show her how much he loved her and was this not also the greatest way for him to show his love? His eyes flick over to the nurse as she calls her last name and he helps her up.

"Emotional Support Astartis?" She says with a smile and you just nod.

"Yeah I'm a mess of emotions right now." You say softly replying as you worry about people finding out... would someone try to take your kid?

"Well you've got your big guy. Lie down please." You obey and she tucks some of those hospital paper around you and some tucked into the top of your pants as cold get is rubbed on your stomach.

Gabriel watched just cooing happily but internally he was doing his mental checkmarks... he would have to tell the acting chapter master what he had done and then the chief apothecary would want to look her over... and then the small coven of alpha legion that is friendly with the legion? Were they basically a legion again? Either way they would make sure no one suspected anything.

You gasped seeing the blurry blobby mess that was your fetus? kid? You just were surprised to even see something perhaps you were hoping to be told no it was no longer there. You look over at Gabriel and you can tell he's holding his breath his eyes focused on the screen just looking over the little blurry blob with you. You wonder if they would have his red hair...

The visit goes well as you hand Gabriel the ultrasound picture... it doesn't look like much but... you can tell it means a lot to him. For Gabriel as he looks down at the little photo. Of course, the Apothecary would be able to get a clearer picture of their child but he didn't know why... but this was something he was going to cherish.

@egrets-not-regrets @liar-anubiass-blog @barn-anon @bleedingichorhearts

#warhammer 40k #reply #answer #barn anon #tales from the barn #non canon husbandry #aftermath of sex #pregancy #the consequences of creation and love #the consequences of not using protection

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sgiandubh · 11 months

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Hello how are you? I follow several shippers' blogs and I noticed that every now and then some bloggers publish hateful messages they received. My question is about mental health: how do you deal with it? I understand that your presence here is relatively recent, but have you ever regretted something?

Dear Mental Health Anon,

This is the kind of submissions I welcome with all my heart, because they are benevolent and witty. Forgive me already for what I suspect will be a long answer. It is not the pleasure of hearing me talk that prompts them, but the sincere intention to answer deserving asks as clearly, fully and honestly as I can.

The short answer is : I am fine, Fall is slowly coming and nights are starting to be really chilly. There's some light rain tapping on the roof of my flat and I will spend my week-end wandering around some of my favorite places on Earth. And now, onwards to the consistent and interesting ask of yours...

The worst trolling message I have ever seen in this fandom is the one I am immediately going to post below, because I think it should serve us all as warning and reminder. It was posted on a blog I have been reading from the beginning of my long lurking days on Tumblr: @cb4tb is one of the most balanced and articulate people in this corner of the Internet. I remember being shocked by its cold and very coherent violence. The feat of a casebook sociopath, who thinks her asks in Spanish (I am 200% certain about it) and who has an appalling command of English grammar. Written on Christmas' Eve and on purpose:

Compared to the alarming slander @cb4tb got (whatever for is a mystery, she is non conflictual and posts very witty business insights) on a day that should be completely taboo for every civilized human being (you don't need to believe in God to respect one of Christianity's most important celebrations), whatever hate I could get in here is definitely subpar. Most of it did not make it on my page and went straight to the bin. But it's not always easy: I am as human as you, Anon, and sometimes I feel personally insulted and revolted by the smugness and pettiness of it all. However, I must immediately add their hate never made me give up an inch of my convictions. They are the result of a long interval of watching and pondering, coupled with my own observations I gladly share with like-minded women all around the world. That often hits a nerve or bruises overinflated egos on the Other Side. So be it: I am not here to be meek and obedient, if I never was meek and obedient in real life. I am here to bring clarity and build trust, which incidentally resonates very closely to what I do for a living. That probably rates me as a moderate on the shipper spectrum, in the sense that by complete design I put aside some divisive topics I firmly chose not to discuss. I am not interested to bring attention on me, in here, and the least thing I'd like is to be a vector of discord. So that would also rate me as a peacemaker of sorts - and yes, that sounds perhaps pretentious, but I believe it is needed, especially now.

I only felt a clear intention to threaten me twice, both in DM. The first time it curiously came from one extreme fringe of the shipper community and I brushed it off, because it was an empty, almost ridiculous threat. I politely denied and that was it - two persons blocked me and there were no other consequences to it. The second time, an anti came to confront me on an irrelevant point, with a very aggressive undertone. I blocked and almost forgot about it. If you have it clear enough in your mind that such things cannot be avoided and, at the same time, you know that your own moral compass is not compromised, these details will not affect you. At all. I confidently promise you that. Last but not least: if you are not great with compartmentalizing, don't step in the arena. It can seriously ruffle your self-esteem and it's not worth it.

So this is how I deal with it: I focus on what I have to say (does it bring something new? interesting? positive? thought-provoking?), on the way of saying it (above all, be kind and gracious to every other shipper) and on the right moment to say it (only when I am honestly sure I can do it with no unwanted consequences). But I will stand in solidarity with any shipper (any single one of them) who is humiliated, belittled or disparaged, with not a single shred of fear in the world. And I would also fend for myself if necessary, if I am getting over-the-top slander: all the other yapping, I ignore. Sometimes (often, even) it's more interesting to watch.

And if anything else fails, I go for a long drive and have a coffee at the seaside or simply open a book or listen to some Bach or call Someone. Or take this little big guy out for a lazy walk in the park:

You ask me if I regret anything. Absolutely not. I have received more than I could ever give, in here. I have met spectacular women and men, I have grown very fond of and feel very close to. I have had the immense satisfaction of sharing their secrets, their worries, their plans and this means trust, in my book, for which I will never tire saying how grateful I am. I also strived to respond in kind and I mean to honor this unwritten contract. Last but not least, I have watched this community slowly dusting off months of sadness and perhaps starting to open up again.

And all of this makes me damn proud of who we are, Anon. Thank you for dropping by! You are always welcome on my page.

#Anon

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humbledragon669 · 2 months

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S1E6 – The Very Last Day of the Rest of Their Lives P3 - from Sunday (the very first day of the rest of their lives) up to the departure of Shadwell and Madame Tracy

So here we are, the last day of the storyline. I was fairly sure the phrase “this is the first day of the rest of their lives” (or variations on the theme) is commonly used at weddings to the newly married couple, so I Googled it, and aside from an awful lot of Etsy links to wedding items emblazoned with the slogan, I came across this lovely summation of the phrase’s meaning:

I mean… wow. There’s so much that I could try to unpack there and apply directly to Crowley and Aziraphale (probably more so the latter of the two), I don’t really know where to start. So maybe I won’t. Call me lazy, but this definition says everything I could ever want to say about the use of this phrase being applied to this point in the storyline, and does so very eloquently.

Alright, next observation. When we rejoin Aziraphale(/Crowley), it’s broad daylight. There are lots of people milling around. When we saw both him and Crowley last, it was fully dark. The location they were in was a rural village and they were catching a normal scheduled bus. I don’t know about you, but I’ve lived in a rural village with a scheduled bus service, and I can assure you, they do not run through the night. We also know that Tadfield is only about an hour’s drive out of London. All of this means we have a period of time unaccounted for. I know that we will later come to discover that they have performed the body switch during this time, but we also know, from the switch reversion we see in the park, that it takes mere seconds to do. Given that the previous conversation between the two of them involved an invitation from Crowley for Aziraphale to stay at his place, I think it’s probably reasonable to assume that this is exactly what has happened. As a reminder, and because I actually haven’t brought it up for a while, my head canon is that they are already romantically involved as a couple at this point, so let me just say that a little louder to try and convey my excitement about this.

WE KNOW AZIRAPHALE STAYED THE NIGHT AT CROWLEY’S! HE STAYED OVER! AT CROWLEY’S FLAT! THEY DEFINITELY, 100%, SPENT THE NIGHT TOGETHER!

I know, I know, they could have just carried on drinking and chatting shit like we saw them doing in episode 1. But that is definitely not what happens in my head. This pair have a lot of making up to do. Also, this is my blog and my head canon. So there.

Ahem. Right. Now that’s out of the way, let’s take a moment to give praise where it’s due to Michael and David in these body switch scenes. The differences in their respective characters are noticeable but subtle. You could genuinely believe that Aziraphale and Crowley are actually Aziraphale and Crowley if you weren’t fully paying attention, which I suspect most of us weren’t the first time we watched the show, which is (yet another) indicator of what incredibly talented actors they are. I think it’s more obvious that Crowley isn’t really who he appears to be, but that’s not to do with the acting – it's the tartan collar and the fact that he doesn’t get into the Bentley. I think we all know Crowley would never get into a taxi when his beloved car was right there (especially when he thought it was lost forever), which he looks pleased to see but not overjoyed. This is a parallel of Aziraphale’s reaction to the bookshop he thought had burned to the ground – it’s unexpectedly reserved, almost assessing.

I’m actually a little bit sad that we didn’t get to see the real Aziraphale going back to his shop to find it back in one piece – I have a suspicion that would have been one absolutely ecstatic angel. Instead we see an uncharacteristically stoic reaction throughout the evaluation of the building. What is really telling is that Crowley (as Aziraphale) knows the inside of the bookshop well enough to be able to pick out a new set of books that weren’t there previously, which is a pretty clear indication as to how much time he spends there. The final Clue we’re given that Aziraphale isn’t really Aziraphale comes in the only line of dialogue we hear in this section. It’s brief:

Let’s set aside, just for a moment, the fact that the wording is rather un-Aziraphale-like (I don’t think he would liaise those words together: “Those are new”), and that the simple brevity of the sentence is similarly uncharacteristic, and even that there are no typical flustery hand gestures that we would typically associate with an excited angel. What really drives this Clue home, for me at least, is the entire pitch of Aziraphale’s voice is considerably lower than we are used to. Much closer to Crowley’s pitch in fact. It’s subtle, partly because the line is short, and there’s another ever-so-subtle difference in (Aziraphale as) Crowley’s gait when he walks to the taxi – it’s missing a bit of that typical Crowley swagger. Those tiny differences go to show how well Michael and David know each other that they can replicate mannerisms of a character that the other one plays so accurately, and I think we would all agree that without that chemistry this show really wouldn’t be what it is. Thanks guys, and fucking brilliant work.

Easter egg time: the “Just William” books that have manifested in the bookshop appear to be a duplicate of the same set of books on the bookshelf in Adam’s bedroom, which (considering Adam is responsible for the bookshop’s restoration) might explain how they ended up in the bookshop.

There’s a bit of dialogue in the scene with Anathema and Newt that suggests something that really is only hinted at in the series: that the people involved in the events of the day before don’t really remember them very clearly.

ANATHEMA: Did we save the world yesterday? NEWT: I don’t know.

This concept is made clearer in the book, with most people finding it difficult to believe that it is in fact Sunday, because they don’t really remember their Saturday at all.

Just in case you weren’t aware, the piece of music that the brass band is playing in St. James’s Park is actually another Queen song called “Lazing on a Sunday Afternoon”, which is a lovely little double-edged Easter egg (it being Queen and the story actually taking place on a Sunday at this point). And if you’re me (which, last I checked, I was), there’s an extra bit of excitement to be had in the lyrics of this song. You see, it’s my head canon that Crowley and Aziraphale actually get married on this particular Sunday, after the lunch at the Ritz. So imagine the squeal of delight that issued forth from my mouth when I read references to proposing and going on honeymoon in the lyrics. I mean, they don’t fit perfectly but hey, the song was written 15 years before the book – not everything can be so serendipitous.

Now, I love the fact that Aziraphale (as Crowley) orders the real Crowley an ice cream without hesitation as much as the next person. It really does show how much time they spend together.

My question is this: is the ice cream the personal preference of Aziraphale’s body’s physical taste buds, or Crowley’s mental personal preference? I can understand that might look a little complicated, so let me ask the question a different way: when Aziraphale and Crowley are in their own bodies, which one favours the ice cream, and which one the strawberry lolly? The answer doesn’t really matter, I just felt like it was a bit of a brain twister. Philosophical questions about body switches aside, the conversation here has a few more Clues peppered around for us to spot. As with (Crowley as) Aziraphale’s voice in the bookshop, (Aziraphale as) Crowley’s voice, at times, is subtly higher-pitched than we are used to, and his words more articulated. There’s also the fact that, when we first see the pair together again, Crowley (as Aziraphale) has taken up his usual position on (Crowley as) Aziraphale’s left.

It looks unnatural because we’re so used to seeing them the other way around. Crowley (as Aziraphale) does remedy the situation, and I’m sure it must be a conscious decision, because I’m also sure standing on the right side of Aziraphale would feel very unnatural for him. In fact, I not only think it’s a conscious decision, I think Aziraphale (as Crowley) signals to him that he’s on the wrong side. It’s tiny, and you could mistake it for a literal tongue-in-cheek moment when he asks about the bookshop, but it’s followed by a covert flick of the eyes to the right from Crowley (as Aziraphale), just before he moves casually to the other side.

Can we say non-verbal communication? We know very well that’s a running theme in the show. And all of these subtle Clues as so easy to miss because the whole conversation is so cautious, spoken low so we have to concentrate on hearing what they’re saying, distracting us from the things that would give the game away. Which includes the fact that both of them ask after the singular material object that matters most to them, despite the fact that the one asking about it isn’t the one it matters to (jeez, this is getting really confusing, isn’t it?). They manage to pass it off as casual conversation in their conspiratorial tones, but in fact it’s a plea for information. The final Clue comes to us in (Aziraphale as) Crowley’s use of the phrase “tickety-boo”, which should be a glaring indicator that the being on the floor is not who he pretends to be. We certainly never hear Crowley use this phrase, and he himself pointed out that it’s unusual even for Aziraphale to use it unless something isn’t right, but we can dismiss it as the ramblings of somebody who has just been hit very hard over the head with a crowbar, something that the warped rendition of the brass band in the soundtrack tells us is highly likely.

Side note: there is obviously another Sound of Music reference here in the departing words of the kidnappers. These references have previously been used to indicate an association with bad things happening that have been caused by Heavenly involvement. And as a personal side note, I was clearly delighted at myself when I wrote the words “it’s a bad omen” on my notes about this particular point because I wrote it in capital letters with a smiley face at the end. What. A. Saddo.

Let’s talk briefly about the face (Crowley as) Aziraphale pulls when Gabriel teases him about what they have planned for him.

I love this expression because it carries subtext on a couple of different levels. If you’re of the belief that this is really Aziraphale in the chair (which I think most of us would have been on first watch), it appears knowingly sarcastic, along the lines of “I sincerely doubt I’m going to enjoy any of this”, but if you’re already in the know about this really being Crowley, the subtext is more along the lines of “I really did see this coming, that’s why I’m not really Aziraphale, you slimy turd”. And the genius thing about the way that Michael plays it is that this singular expression fits either one of those possibilities perfectly.

Little side note: “wank wings” is my absolute favourite insult used in the entirety of this series, hands down. Also, a little question: if a tiny dribble of holy water is enough to completely obliviate a demon (see Ligur’s demise), why was it necessary for Michael to fill a bath with the stuff? The only obvious reason I can think of is so that we get to see (Aziraphale as) Crowley wearing his socks whilst in the bath and asking for a rubber duck, and to be honest if that’s the sole reason, I’m good with that.

Tiny possible Easter egg: Michael’s response to (Aziraphale as) Crowley’s comment about the liquid being holy water is the same as Aziraphale’s own response when asked what the contents of the flask were in 1967:

The holiest.

It was only whilst rewatching this episode for these write ups that I realised that the snarky comment from (Aziraphale as) Crowley wasn’t just there for comedy or for him to give his persecutors a bit of cheek.

This is a new jacket, and I’d hate to ruin it.

Which it sort of is, it having a tartan collar at Aziraphale’s liking. I don’t think this is a coincidence, not least because the original script line is “this is a new suit”, but also because we know from episode 2 that Aziraphale has a bit of a soft spot about jackets.

Hold on a minute, just hold on one bloody minute. What the hell is this noise?

I only heard it by chance when I was trying to clip something else. Do you hear it? It’s pretty subtle (not to mention short) so I turned the recording levels on the clip up. For context, this is right before he asks if it’s ok for him to take his jacket off. There’s the rising sound of a choir singing in an open vowel sound that ends abruptly with a little “ting” noise. I think it sounds an awful lot like one of the collection of sounds we’ve been introduced to that signify that a miracle has just performed. And if that’s true, what miracle has just been performed and by who? This one will genuinely keep me awake tonight…

Back on Earth, we see Shadwell reading a book which appears to be about psychic phenomena and demonology, complete with a very accurate rendition of the demon that was just destroyed in the bath of holy water. Presumably his choice of literature has been influenced by the events of the previous 24 hours. Somebody has made some sort of notes or markings on the adjacent pages, but unfortunately I cannot make out what they are. He’s also listening to “Jerusalem” again (as he was in episode 4), which makes me wonder if he has any other music other than that in the apartment at all.

There are two things in the text that I find interesting, one of which is more of an Easter egg. It’s very difficult to see because the writing is so small, but there is a reference to the author of the New Aquarian publication that Anathema and Adam so adore:

The other lies in the following passage of text:

...if communication with those who have been possessed or passed into the unseen be possible, why should it be necessary to have a connecting link in a so-called medium or demon hunter, especially a perfect stranger and of other order of mind? Surely our loved ones who have recently entered the spiritual world would try to communicate directly with them dearest to them: a father or mother would be more likely to be sensitive to the spiritual presence of their beloved child that an uncongenial stranger.

This feels like it might be a reference to Aziraphale’s actions after he was discoporated – he returned to the being dearest to him knowing that he would be more likely to sense his presence. If this is the case and this was purposeful, I am once again struck by the incredible attention to detail on display. It makes it so obvious that this was a show loved by everybody involved in its creation, and they have every right to be proud of their achievements.

There’s quite a lot to cover about Shadwell and Madame Tracy’s relationship in the remaining 20 minutes of the episode so it’s nice to see that there’s no time wasted in reminding the audience that they have been living an odd sort of joint existence for a while (not actually that dissimilar to our hero pair really) – his insistence that she leave the plate outside the door speaks volumes about this not only being a regular occurrence, but that this arrangement (no pun intended) is one that both parties are comfortable with. And let’s just take a moment to appreciate how smitten Shadwell is when he sees Madame Tracy at the door. It’s especially lovely because the outfit she’s wearing is deliberately plain and unflattering, yet seems to be of immense pleasure to him.

And just as a quick side note, I LOVE that shot from above of Shadwell leaving his own apartment and entering Madame Tracy’s. There’s something about it that’s so slick, and it feels like we’re being shown that the barriers between this couple were all of Shadwell’s own making because the walls and doors are so easy to traverse.

Do we think there’s something of an ironic anti-racism/anti-xenophobia joke in the little exchange between Baddicombe and Newt? I do not wish to cause offence to anybody, so I will try and demonstrate the point I’m trying to make with the following clip instead (which, very appropriately, the actor who plays Baddicombe is actually in):

youtube

Possible Easter egg: the year that the law firm that Baddicombe works for was established in 1692, the year that the Salem witch trials began in Massachusetts.

The next scene is the last we see of Shadwell and Madame Tracy (at least for this season, who’s to say they won’t be back in season 3?), and sadly I don’t have much to say about it other than this is the only time we ever hear Shadwell being honest about the size of the Witchfinder Army. I don’t think he’s ever lied to himself about the fact, but he’s certainly not been telling the truth to other people.

This part has gone on for quite a bit (surprise miracle noise can take part of the blame for that one), so I feel like the last sighting of a pair of characters might be a convenient place to wrap this part up. Bye (for now) Shadwell! Bye (for now) Madame Tracy! As always, questions, comments, discussion: always welcome. See you for the next one 😊

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smallgronk · 1 year

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This Community: A Love Letter <3

When I originally joined Tumblr, it was because reddit was being fucking dumb and I didn't want to support it. I had been a user for almost a decade and it really was frustrating to leave a platform I enjoyed so much. It turns out to have been one of the best things to ever happen to me. I went from a lurker to being active in a wonderful community here on Tumblr. I originally joined because I wanted to see the same memes I got from reddit, and I loved the horny vibe mixed in. It was right when I was beginning to explore myself for the first time in my life, rather than just floating along. When I got here, it took me a bit to find my feet, and holy shit was the effort worth it. I struggled with feeling like I was invading, but so many people took my hand and let me know I was welcome all the same. Whether I knew what I was or not, and because of that I was able to truly immerse myself fully in a vibrant queer community for the first time. I had plenty of interactions with many in the queer community before, but not from the inside like it happened here. I finally was able to figure out something that made me feel comfortable with myself. I realize in hindsight, I had never truly felt at peace. I suspected I might be trans before I came here, but I learned some of what being trans means to me in this place. I was content to leave the story at that! To have been grateful for the small kindnesses afforded to me by those around me. To start to try and help others see the same things I had my eyes opened to, and just move forward. And then this week happened, and it feels like my life is going to have a before and after. In a mere five days I have had so many things occur it takes me paragraphs to even glimpse the surface. Death, fear, bravery, exploration, romance, joy, and hope. I have experienced these things more deeply in a matter of days than I have in the last decades of my life as a guy. I have spent mere weeks as a girl on tumblr, a week in my house as a girl, have yet to try and be a girl in public, and I don't even think I consider myself a woman yet, but my life as a girl has felt like its almost just as long as the life I spent as a man. Its incredible. In the middle of this incredible, horrible, beautiful, and terrifyingly stressful week I didn't know how I was going to make it through each minute let alone get through each day. And then this silly little horny community reached out to me. Everywhere I turned I had people not just offer support when I complained, I had people reach out just to let me know they were there if I needed them. I'm so used to just shoving things down and dealing with it alone that I didn't even know how to accept this much help. Every time I had gotten everything shoved down again I had someone else reassure me that I was allowed to lean on them if I needed. It was incredible. It felt almost coordinated with how many people helped me. And I just don't think it's possible for me to express my love for everyone in this community who has helped me both this week, and in the time leading up to it. Those who have given me tips. Those who have helped me find myself. Those who have made me feel beautiful. Those who have let me lean on them when I needed to cry. Those who just let me know they would worry for me. @xenasaur @justaflatbitch @userwordandpassname @rosieeyes @crocadilly @latenitegirlluv @evergreen-femme @v10l3nt-gl1tch3s @tymera @godincarsnate-blog Thank you. I have already said words to some of you, but there is no chance it accurately gets across how much so many people here have meant for me in the little time I've spent. I have surely missed people here, so please don't think you don't matter if you haven't made the list. It's not just these few people. It's the entire community that gathers together and makes this kind of thing happen. Everyone has played a role in making such a lovely space what it is. Big hugs, much love- Jay

#nsft #trans nsft #t4t nsft #transfem #sappy post #sappy #grief #thank you all #ily all #transgender #queer community

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mysterywheeze · 5 months

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what a weekend, huh

I've refrained from using this blog to share my thoughts on the [gestures vaguely] situation for- well, for a few reasons. For one, I haven't been directly involved in the fandom for a while for personal reasons (I will reiterate that I am Mostly Fine). For two, until today we didn't have an official update on the matter. And for three, there's been A LOT of vitriol within the fanbase, so saying anything felt like stepping into a minefield.

Point three still stands. But what the hell? I've thrown my thoughts into worse rings.

My opinions on the whole fiasco can be summed up in four points.

ONE: Their initial plan was bad, and the way they announced it was even worse.

I don't think I have to explain why cutting off a large number of low-income and international fans is a shitty thing to do. That the initial treatment of Patreon fans was poor is, I think, similarly self-evident. And not just because we weren't initially given free access to the streaming platform; the abrupt cancellation of WW+ and early access screwed a lot of annual-membership patrons over.

We now have confirmation that Watcher needed a new revenue stream to stay operational, and that the team viewed this change as essentially a last resort to avoid layoffs or worse. We did not get this information in the "Goodbye YouTube" video. The Watcher team could have been upfront from the beginning, but they decided not to be. Instead they hyped up the announcement, even had a countdown, leading us to think that this was a sign of something good, when in reality it was a sign of something dire.

I hope we can all agree that more initial transparency would have significantly improved the audience reaction to the announcement.

TWO: The update/apology video was a good one.

They addressed why they made their decision, admitted to their fuck-up, and changed their plan. That's Owning Up To Your Mistakes 101. What we got was a compromise; they aren't scrapping the streaming service altogether, but they aren't abandoning fans who can't afford it altogether, either. And of course, they've told us that the streaming service is necessary for the survival of the company. Better late than never.

There's still a lot that they need to do before they can fully gain my trust. And I say gain, not regain, because this isn't the first time they've had a business fumble (NOTE: this is not about the HWYD incident). From Patreon rewards coming months late to factual errors in their educational shows, to what I strongly suspect is mismanagement of funds leading to their current financial troubles, they've always had flaws that ought to be addressed.

But it's a start. A good start at that.

THREE: Some fans reacted to the announcement (and to a lesser extent, to the update) in deeply inappropriate ways.

Look, I don't think you have to ~deeply adore~ Steven Lim to be a Watcher fan. I'll admit that, as a diehard Unsolved fan since 2017 who rarely watched Worth It before 2020, Steven's shows appealed to me less than Ryan and Shane's content did. The average viewcounts of Steven's shows compared to Ryan-n-Shane's shows indicates that my preferences are pretty common.

That being said, as someone who isn't particularly enthused about Steven content, I can appreciate the things he's done for Watcher and as a human being. He's always been the guy pushing hardest for Asian-American representation, as Grocery Run, Hidden Narratives, and especially his response to the 2021 tragedy in Atlanta, made very clear.

From years ago to just last week, he's said some poorly-worded and even insensitive things. He's a human. We're prone to doing that.

If you think that it's okay to insult him on a personal level over this weekend's fiasco, to drag up an old mistake he already publicly apologized for, or to make unfounded accusations about his moral character, you are solely mistaken and have some serious maturing to do. If you actually partook in any of those activities, I sincerely hope that you regret your actions and avoid repeating them. And if you're one of those people STILL trying to pin all the blame on Steven, or even calling for his resignation(?!?)... I don't know what to tell you. I really hope you become a kinder person soon.

This also goes for people who started getting personal with the other members of Team Watcher, or with their friends or loved ones outside the company. So what if Sara had an imperfect take? She's not responsible for Watcher's bad decision, and we shouldn't be dragging her into the discourse just because she's married to a guy who did a fuck-up.

And yeah, Shane did a fuck-up. It ain't cute to act like he's an innocent anti-capitalist baby being dragged into this mess by Steven. Same goes for people saying Ryan didn't play a part in this, but over the past few days I've seen way more support for Shane among conspiratorial fans than for Ryan. I'm not going to act like racial bias is the only factor at play here, clearly it's more complex than that, but making up conspiracies to protect your white fave while scapegoating the outspoken-against-racism Asian guy... it's not a good look. You have to realize that and evaluate your biases.

FOUR: The backlash to the backlash has become excessive and unhelpful.

I get it. When people are being dicks online, it's natural to speak out against it. And boy howdy, were some people being dicks this weekend. Emphasis on the some.

Yes, there's been a lot of mean-spirited, unconstructive hate sent Watcher's way over the past few days. There's also been an incredibly large volume of constructive criticism from all corners of the fandom. Some of it's been discussed between fans, some of it's been shared directly with Team Watcher. It doesn't stick in your mind as strongly as blatant hate does, but I can assure you, it's there.

And in the effort to defend Watcher against that hate, a lot of you have made it really hard for good-faith criticism to be heard.

Seriously, every time I see someone on the Wiscord politely criticize one of Watcher's decisions, they're immediately shut down by a fellow fan. Same thing happened to me in an unofficial fan server earlier today. My good-faith critique wasn't as important as the fact that some asshole could hypothetically make a similar argument in bad faith. Any attempt at a calm, reasoned discussion of Watcher's issues as a company gets drowned out with blind positivity.

Let me make my stance crystal clear: people are allowed to be upset about things that they aren't being forced at gunpoint to pay for. That's like, the the basis of media criticism. "You don't HAVE to pay for it so you shouldn't complain about it" is not an argument that should be taken seriously here on Al Gore's internet.

There's also been a lot of disingenuous use of the "don't you believe artists should get paid?" argument, because yes I do, and yes they have been getting paid. By thousands of people at once - far more supporters than most working artists receive in a lifetime. I personally have been supporting them financially since January of 2020, literally since day one. Watcher's situation evidently isn't ideal, but as far as independent creators go they're pretty darn privileged to have the following they have.

And if you think that Team Watcher has actually totally been doing the right thing all along, then you're wrong. The guys at Watcher themselves admitted that. If they really are the bastions of honesty you're convinced they are, you'll accept that. Above all, the changes they announced today are not proof that "the bullies won". If the bullies won, there would be no streaming service. What happened was a compromise, and the assholes in this fandom didn't want a compromise.

Look, I know you guys. I remember the old days, when we weren't afraid to provide feedback to Watcher when they fucked up, and over much smaller fumbles than this recent one. I know we've all put a lot of money and time into this company and the people behind it. The sunk-cost fallacy is a very powerful thing. But please don't let your hatred for bullies and love for the boys completely blind you to valid criticism. You can't entirely shield them from growing pains if what you want for them is real growth.

FIVE: This isn't a real point in the list I just had to separate my closing thoughts from the rest of the essay I accidentally wrote. Whoops.

The other day, I saw somebody (can't recall their handle, sorry) describe some fan reactions to Friday's announcement as "post-divorce honesty". It's far from the only comparison to a breakup I've seen. That phrase has been ringing in my head for a while now. Because this situation has made a lot of people reevaluate what they like about Watcher, why they became a fan in the first place, and if it's worth sticking around.

Watcher made a mistake. One that they could walk back but can't undo. Their reputation is never going to be the same as it was before. Likewise, a lot of fans said things that can't be taken back, and now that's tied to their reputation in our community. I can't blame anyone for feeling uneasy right now.

Hm. When I started writing this, I had an actual ending in mind. I don't know where that went.

Maybe that's the note I end this massive ramble on? Watcher's future is uncertain, the community's future is uncertain, so I'm uncertain about the last part of this post...? Agh. There's a reason why I'm more of a fiction writer than an essayist. It's getting late, I've got stuff to do tomorrow, and my browser's beginning to slow down from the sheer weight of my draft being open for so long.

Just... try to take it easy on each other, okay? It's been a hell of a week, and we haven't even finished Monday yet.

#watcher #ryan bergara #steven lim #shane madej #good lord. we all gotta sleep.

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thotsforvillainrights · 11 months

Note

Howdy! Love to see that your ask box is open! Hope you’re doing just fine.

Anyhoo, may I please have more Chisaki x reader fluff? Established relationship, domestic fluff—you know the vibes.

Sorry that I don’t have something more specific. My brain’s not coming up with any scenarios and I had to make a request because my Chisaki x reader fanfics are dwindling. I’m already on part three of Zuffer_Weird_Girl’s Chisaki x reader master list and I need more content lol. Especially and preferably fluff. Thanks!

(If there's one thing I know, is that I've binged that masterlist so many times over and over that it's ingrained into my skull now...amonst some other blogs I tend to frequent silently re-reading lol. I love a good chance for some soft Chisaki content!)

~Is it 5:00 yet?~

headcanon|scenario|imagine|match-up

Wheels rolling along the floor, various phones ringing, small talk chats, and the sound of the printer jamming up once again...

This was a typical Friday afternoon in your work place. Not much was ever different aside from a new project here and there to expect on Monday. However, here lately you've noticed a certain someone calling you around 4:30 more often than usual. He keeps you on the line each day trying the run the clock down and get you home faster. He's been a bit clingy lately but you don't mind it.

Perhaps this was how he always felt.

"Hello? Kai?" You hear him moving dishes around in the background before he speaks up. "Angel...Is it time for you to be finished just yet?"

"Kai, you know as well as I do that it's not even close to being 5:00 yet. Besides, I still have a few thing I need to finish here before I can clock out." You whisper quietly. He lets out a long sigh. "Haven't you done enough for those people already? Anyway you don't need to work. I've already told you this multiple times before. I'll take care of you." You smiled to yourself when he said this. He's always bringing it up in case you forget, but how could you?

"No thanks, I enjoy working yknow? Anyway, you're always calling so I suspect you know what you're doing hmm?" You hint at the fact that the clock has run down again. "I'll be home soon okay? Just wait for me." You added before the two of you say your 'goody-byes' and hang up. Once off the phone, you finish up the last bit of work leftover before finally clocking out. There wasn't much time left to focus on the task at hand since the phone call took up a lot of your final working minutes. You end up smiling on the way out of the building, on the train ride home, and all the way up to the Hassaikai compound gates. There he's waiting on you with a fresh bath ran, rose scented fragrance wafting off the clean sudsy water. He's prepared a cup of tea for you, fluffed your pillows on the bed just right. He's fully convinced with enough spoiling that he'll be able to get you to quit that job of yours and be his love full time.

They always say a man can dream right? His dream is of your next 5:00 being the last one you have to deal with.

#bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #overhaul #kai chisaki #yakuza #shie hassaikai #scenario

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imnotoverlyobsessive · 1 year

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friend, you do realise that no mater how vocal you are about disliking kylie it still isn’t gonna change the fact that timmy and kylie are seeing each other right???? like there NOTHING any of us can do about it because it’s his decision, pr or not, he CHOSED her. so pls stop body shamming/slut shamming or calling her all kinds of vile names it sounds a little misogynist!

Alright, here we go.

Me being vocal about my dislike of her is for two reasons. Firstly, I don’t want her fans interacting with my blog, I don’t want people who support her or think their relationship is “omg so cute!” interacting with my blog, etc etc. Second, I’m venting to people who share my feelings. I know I can’t do anything about it, yeah. I am fully cognizant of the fact that he will never see my blog in a million years (actually, I suspect you either don’t follow me or don’t know me very well, because if you did either, you would know that the last fucking thing I want is any level of interaction with that man, I don’t even follow him on Instagram for god’s sake, interacting with him is something I have had actual nightmares about). That is desirable for me. If I found out he had a Tumblr, I’d block him faster than you can say “not today, Satan.” That doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to voice my opinions on my own blog, though, does it? If you’d rather not see my opinions, well… you can just block me, y’know.

Yeah, he chose to be with her. His decisions are stupid. I support his right to make his own decisions, yeah, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to say that they’re stupid when I think they’re stupid. Supporting someone’s right to make stupid decisions doesn’t mean I am obligated to support those decisions, nor does it mean I’m not allowed to say as much.

Have I slut shamed her? If I have, I’m sorry; I don’t think she’s someone who sleeps around, based on what I know of her. It seems like she prefers serious relationships. Not that there’d be any issue with her sleeping around, mind you. As long as all parties know what’s going on and no one is being unsafe or harming anyone, I have no issue with that. And for the record, I don’t blame her for wanting to date and presumably bang Tim. Obviously she does. She’s got eyes, after all, doesn’t she? I don’t blame her for that, and I don’t take issue with her choosing to do that since he gave her the opportunity to do so. What’s she gonna do, say no? Obviously not. No, I don’t blame her for that. That’s not shitty, that’s a perfectly normal reaction to Timothée being down to date and/or fuck her. I blame her for all the shitty things she’s done, continues to do, and is complicit in.

As for the body shaming, I can see how you might feel I had done that. That was never my intention, though. My issues with her appearance do indeed exist, because of the harmful beauty standards she puts on young girls—young girls who looked like her before she had all that surgery, young girls who are still growing, like her daughter, for example—and the idea that in order to be beautiful, one has to look a specific way, be a certain level of tan when their skin isn’t naturally that dark (which is a whole other issue, believe you me), have the right facial features, the right size boobs and butt, the right size waist, a flat stomach, the list goes on and on and on. I also take issue with the fact that she lies about those things.

I support women and their rights to make decisions about their bodies. But—and this is very important, anon—what we must keep in mind is that she is not a normal woman. She is one of the most famous people in the world. She may not have chosen to get famous as a child, but she did choose to continue that fame once she reached adulthood. And to be as famous as she us and also be as blatantly shitty as she’s being… yeah, sorry, I’m gonna call her out on it on my blog, and if anybody takes issue with that, idk what to tell ya. Sounds like a you problem.

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sweetchildcloud · 6 months

Text

||PRETENDING|| ル ˖ ♡ ₍ ᐢ..ᐢ ₎ 📍 ࣪ . › written by me

Yuji x reader|D*PRESSION TRIGGER WARNING

Plot:You felt down about everything and about your art style so Yuji tries to cheer you up

Tags:You're Yuji best friend,self loathing,hating towards oneself,crying,venting,not eating nor drinking,vomiting,anorexia(reader)

please reblog 🔁 and like❤️

Art not mine⚠️👐😟,if you know the artist let me know in the comments

P.S: i have made a dark theme blog go check it out! Minors DNI!

@muzansslxt @candy69gurl @kiwicopia

"My drawings sucks,my art style is horrible,my favourite characters looks shitty in my art style" You sobbed wiping away your tears "I'm not good enough even at what I like"

Yuji sighed and gently brushed away the remaining tears on your face, his thumb gently circling your chin. he didn't like seeing you like this, he hated it, in fact.

Seeing you like this, and knowing your mindset towards life, made him realize that no one would be more devastated than him if you were to ever disappear from this world.

"your art style doesn't suck." he said quietly. "i quite like it, actually. and i'm sure others do too."

"But...I tried to draw you but..it's not in a realistic style or anything...it's just...simplified style" You whimpered takout your sketchbook and handing it at Yuji

he took the sketchbook from your hands, looking at the drawings you were referring to as he quietly flipped through the pages.

despite you calling it simple and being disappointed with it, he thought they seemed lovely. it was quite different from how other people drew and he really liked that about your style.

"and i love it." he replied with a small smile as he looked up at you again. as he did, his other hand slipped underneath your chin again and tilted your head upwards so that you were now looking right into his eyes.

"But I don't" you sobbed covering your face "I don't and I hate myself for it because I'm not like others"

his grip on your cheek remained firm as he held your face upwards. all of these thoughts, self-inflicted pain and negativity you had towards yourself had to end one way or another.

"you're right, you're not like other people. but that's not a bad thing" he spoke softly once more, while the hand that was holding onto your cheek now also moved to gently caress your cheek.

"and that's exactly what makes you unique" his voice remained gentle as he maintained eye contact with you.

"but i'm not like you aither,i'm not happy,positive i don't smile at life"

"well, i don't want you to be like me" he responded with a soft chuckle.

his fingers stopped the gentle caressing motion and moved down to your side.

"and trust me, i'm the furthest thing away from being fully happy"

he paused once more, before finally speaking again.

"i… i wish you could see yourself the way i see you"

his eyes scanned you up and down. as he did, he realized just how frail and thin you looked, as if you were some walking skeleton. the bags underneath your eyes, the pale colour of your skin and the fact that you rubbed your hand once more told him the things you never mentioned but he always suspected.

"how long was the last time you ate?" he questioned quietly.

"i…" you couldn't bring yourself to answer the question. you didn't even know how much time had passed since you ate last. you simply shrugged your shoulders, trying to avoid the topic.

he seemed unamused by your answer.

"tell me." he asked forcefully this time, his tone having shifted into a stern one.

you remained silent. you weren't going to tell him that you hadn't eaten in days, and you knew how much he'd hate this.

he'd probably think that he wasn't doing enough, that you weren't eating because you were upset or that he somehow wasn't doing enough to keep you happy. and, well, you didn't want that to happen.

"I'm not hungry" you finally spoken up, and even that was a lie, but it was better than admitting the truth… right?

he sighed as he heard your words.

his grip on your hands tightened once more as he stared at you, his gaze turning into one of irritation.

he didn't fall for your lie, and he was not going to take "i'm not hungry" for an answer.

"so, you're telling me you haven't eaten anything in over-" he paused, unsure of just how much time passed without you eating. "days?"

"why does it matters anyway?" You pouted looking away and turning your back at Yuji

"because you're killing yourself by not eating." his tone remained harsh, but he refused to loosen his grip on your hand.

"and i don't like that." he said simply.

he wasn't lying when he said that he didn't like that you were doing this to yourself. when he saw you starving yourself, he felt like he'd do anything to get you to eat again.

"Well I don't feel like to" you replied looking away "I don't feel hungry,I don't feel thirsty"

"well, even if you don't feel like eating, you have to." he replied once more, and it was only now that you finally noticed how tightly his hand held onto yours.

his grasp never loosened, despite your attempts to move his hand away.

"how about something to drink then?" his tone had changed slightly, as he asked this question. "just anything."

You sighed as you looked down "a tea" you whimpered feeling weak

"tea?" he raised an eyebrow at you, before gently letting go of your hand.

he was now on high alert when it came to your habits of not eating and starving.

"follow me." he said quietly.

yuji walked to a nearby cafe, gently keeping an eye on you, and once you were there, he ordered you some green tea along with anything you wanted to eat.

"take a seat" he said as he guided you to an empty table.

after getting you a table, he sat down opposite of you, eyeing your movements. he didn't like how you looked, it was clear that you had been starving yourself.

"now, you're going to drink that." he said simply, gesturing to the glass of green tea in front of you. "then, you're going to eat something."

even if you didn't feel like eating, he was going to make sure that you ate something. his gaze was firm, and he wouldn't accept no for an answer.

his gaze remained on you as he waited for you to take your first sip of the glass of green tea.

he could tell immediately after you took your first sip that the glass of green tea would be the only thing you had that day.

after you took a few more sips, he took a small plate, filled it up with some sandwiches and placed it in front of you.

"eat." he said quietly but strongly, as his gaze remained on you the entire time.

once again he noticed how you looked away when you glanced at the plate of food.

his jaw tensed slightly, and he moved the plate of food closer to you.

"try a piece." his tone was firm and there was little to no room for negotiation.

With your trembling hand you tooked the sandwich but as soon as you bited it...you felt nauseous and you runned to the bathroom of the cafe

the second he saw your trembling hand and noticed the uneasiness on your face, he instinctively knew the outcome of it all.

without letting you get a word in, his instincts kicked in and he was quick to sprint to the bathroom.

he found you hunched over the toilet sink, gagging and struggling not to empty your stomach.

"god damn it..." he muttered under his breath, his hands balled up into tight fists as he glared at your small frame.

his jaw tightened as he heard the sound of you gagging and throwing up some of the tea.

he was fuming on the inside but he kept it in, taking deep breaths to calm down.

he took a step closer to you from behind, and without thinking much, he started rubbing your back, hoping to soothe you atleast somewhat.

*just calm down* he repeated to himself in his head, hoping that it'd work, even just a little.

he held you in his embrace, staying close even when you were still gagging.

as the sound decreased, his hand continued to rub your back until you stopped throwing up the tea, a sigh escaping his body as he breathed in relief.

he was now holding you in his embrace, waiting until you'd calm down a bit, his expression showing nothing but annoyance as he looked down at you, waiting for this madness to finally stop.

he sighed softly as you finished throwing up. the entire time, he made sure not to let his grip on your back loosen, until you finally stopped and there was a hint of silence from your end.

once you had quieted down, and there wasn't any sound in the bathroom at all, yuji spoke up again.

"are you done?" he asked quietly.

as he waited for your response, he noticed how you were still trembling, whether from the aftermath of the throwing up session or the fact that you hadn't eaten anything all day, he couldn't tell.

with his other hand, he grabbed a small pack of napkins, before passing it over to you.

"wipe your mouth, and then wash your face." he said softly this time, as he finally released his grip on your back and stepped away from you.

"I'm...sorry.." you whined "I.. I tought I could overcome it all by myself" your coughed

as you apologized to him, his eyebrows furrowed slightly when he heard the sound of your cough. you sounded like you could cough up a lung at any moment, and just hearing your frail state, it made him feel terrible.

"you shouldn't have attempted to 'overcome it' by yourself, not when you know how much you struggle." he replied as he watched you wipe your mouth with the napkin.

"now, wash your face."

he paused when he realized how shaky your hands were, and as you struggled to grip the pack of napkins with ease, he was silently reminded of how frail you were.

he wasn't going to let you do everything on your own anymore.

"come here." he said as he beckoned you to come to him. once you were closer to him, he grabbed the pack from you and began wiping down your face for you.

after he wiped down your face, he noticed that you still seemed like you were struggling to stand up. with the lack of food and the exhaustion it caused you, it was no wonder you were so weak right now.

"sit..." he instructed gently with a gentle push towards the sink.

after you did so, he grabbed a paper cup, filled it with water and handed it to you.

"Drink this." he said quietly.

he noticed the way you were struggling to grip the paper cup with your frail hand, and it only further reinforced to him that you needed to be cared for more than he initially thought.

he was right. you weren't eating or drinking enough.

"drink... slowly." he added on, as he watched you drink the water.

after you had taken a few sips and seemed to take your time with the water, he finally let out a sigh of relief. at least you were drinking something.

he looked at you for a few minutes more, seemingly inspecting your small frame as you sipped on the water, before finally speaking up once more.

"are you feeling any better?" his tone was still slightly concerned, but there was a much softer edge to it, unlike earlier where he spoke with more firmness.

you weren't the type of person to admit when you were physically not feeling alright, but you could never lie to him when he did ask you. you tried to hold back your groan of pain though, it was getting increasingly difficult to do so as your stomach was protesting the emptiness.

you were exhausted, both mentally and physically, and you had barely eaten anything today. your stomach was in pain and your head felt like it could split at any moment.

"bad..." you said quietly, with a hint of an ashamed tone in your voice.

you sounded so weak right now, and it broke his heart.

he was so mad at you for refusing to eat all day and for not telling him about it, but all of this only caused him more concern. he didn't understand why you were so persistent in hiding everything from him.

"do you want to leave?" he asked softly, his gaze still locked onto yours.

you thought about it for a moment before you slowly nodded your head. you definitely weren't feeling too good at the moment, and the thought of staying in a cafe for any longer made your head hurt.

you just wanted to go back home, to lay on your bed and close your eyes for a little while.

"then, let's do that." a soft smile spread across his face as he spoke, before gently grabbing your hand and beginning to lead you out of the bathroom.

he had to guide you out of the bathroom, as you were still so weak from the entire ordeal.

you were trembling and your legs felt like they could fall out underneath you anytime.

the more you tried to walk by yourself, the more apparent it became that you were exhausted.

he kept a firm grip on your hand, as he held you in place and led you out of the cafe.

when you walked outside, the cold breeze made you shiver as your body adjusted to the sudden change in temperature. you were clearly uncomfortable and it was evident as you stopped walking and shivered once more.

he noticed the way you were shivering and it took everything in him to hide his annoyance.

he really couldn't stand how hard you worked to maintain this facade of yours, trying to act like everything was fine when it clearly wasn't.

"here." he said, as he wrapped his jacket around you to help with the cold.

"i don't need this." you spoke up, as you tried to shake off the jacket.

he looked at you with a stern gaze, his grip on the jacket remaining firm.

"you're obviously cold. we're not going to argue over this, you're wearing the jacket." he said sternly, but he couldn't help the slight irritation that laced his tone.

"but i said I don't need it…" you began to protest, though he interrupted you.

"well, I said you do. put the jacket on…" instead of arguing further with you, he simply began putting the jacket on you himself.

as he did, he remained closely positioned behind you, his body pressing against yours. he was keeping you warm as you were still trembling, the jacket was surprisingly large on you considering the fact that it was his.

"that's… way too big on me," you said out loud, as you felt how much space you had inside the jacket.

"well, it's better like this." he muttered before pulling the jacket more tightly around you.

since the jacket was big on you, you were able to fit inside of it quite snuggly, your body pressed up against his in the process.

his breath quickened as the feeling of you pressed up against him was much more apparent now that you were wearing the jacket.

he could feel your body, he could feel the heat radiating from your skin and he could feel every slight movement you made.

it was such a strange sensation, and for a brief moment, he felt tempted to lean his head onto the top of your head, which would certainly be better for his comfort, as well as hiding how badly he wanted to do that right now.

the way that his breath quickened caught you off-guard, and you noticed the sudden shift in his breathing.

but then, quickly, you remembered that you were pressed up against his body at the moment, and this is most likely why his breath had quickened.

there was a silent pause as he remained standing behind you while you were wearing his jacket, both of you remaining silent for a while until he finally spoke.

"you're still trembling…" he said quietly, and he continued to keep his body pressed against yours as he spoke.

"yeah, i uh…" you were unsure how to respond when he made that observation. you did indeed still feel cold, and you were shivering quite a lot.

even with the jacket on, you were still trembling and you thought it would lessen, but it had barely changed at all.

it only further made you realize just how frail and skinny you were…

"i'm fine… really" you said quickly, although it was quite obvious that you were lying.

"we should go to home now"

"right, yeah" you quickly nodded your head, agreeing with him.

you were still feeling extremely weak, and you wanted nothing more than to just go home and sleep the entire day.

you were so tired, both mentally and physically. it was about time for you to lay down for a little while.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

when you got home, yuji led you to your bedroom, and you sat down on your bed.

you groaned and laid down shortly after as you felt your eyelids begin to droop a little bit as you closed your eyes.

yuji noticed the heavy bags under your eyes and it annoyed him because he immediately blamed himself for stressing you out this much.

but, even though you looked horrible, you still looked so beautiful to him, and he couldn't tear his eyes away from your frail self…

even if you were physically, mentally and emotionally exhausted, he couldn't help but notice how pretty you looked in this state.

how small you looked as you laid down on the bed, it really was quite adorable.

even though he was irritated with you, he couldn't help but feel an overwhelming urge to just go over and lay down next to you, and just embrace you…

he got on the bed next to you, laying down on his side so that he was facing you.

he laid his arm around you, pulling you in closer, and he brought himself even closer until he was almost pressed up against you.

he let out a soft sigh as he smiled down at you.

"get some sleep…" he whispered, as he began to slowly stroke your hair, hoping it would help to soothe you into a long and comfortable sleep.

he continued to stroke your hair for a while longer before he stopped and closed his eyes, allowing himself to sleep as well.

it had been a long day. for you and him.

your body relaxed as it was pressed up against his, and you could finally feel yourself slowly slipping away into a deep sleep.

you felt safe in his arms, and for a brief moment, you forgot about all the stresses that you had to deal with during the day.

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beautifulpersonpeach · 9 months

Note

It's cold and dreary and the tannies are gone,,, *cries in the corner* But the re-debuting (?) efforts for 2 cool 4 skool (I definitely didn't know how to spell this lol) is so heartwarming!! I just feel warm and fuzzy inside, you know?? Do you know if these fandom efforts are typical for kpop groups? I don't know what to expect for this ms era. I keep seeing articles and discussions that talk about who'll fill in the gap that's left by bts. It's not that I'm super worried (I know exactly where I stand), but I just don't know what will happen next as a whole. I quite enjoy the current army atmosphere. It makes me think that armys are the best when they are working towards a goal. Would you be able to share what are the things that ppl (who's never been through something like this) should keep in mind moving forward for the next 6month-1.5year? Thank you so much!

***

Yeah, re-charting old songs is something more than a few fandoms do from time to time, but ARMYs’ aim of re-charting several old songs, sometimes whole albums, at once and methodically - that’s something I don’t think has been done before. And yes it warms my heart to see the fandom give BTS this. Even though it’s more of symbolic gesture than ‘huge achievement’, it’s a tangible way the fandom can express that we intend to stick by BTS this entire time. Life might happen, we might explore other groups and hobbies or take some time to ourselves, but we’ll never really abandon BTS or forget them while they’re in service. It also allows the fandom the opportunity to re-experience BTS’s old music. It’s reminding me of why I fell in love with them in the beginning.

And you’re right. The fandom does need a goal to work towards. One of the first things I said on this blog that I remember people got mad at me for (lol), was that I think many ARMYs are just Type A k-pop stans who prioritize BTS. A lot of us do well with targets and performance measures, using information and ingenuity to achieve desired goals for someone we love genuinely gets us going. When the fandom is aimless people go crazy. So yeah, keep ARMYs busy and peace will be reasonably attainable.

It seems HYBE intends to keep milking the fandom too - more documentaries are coming, at least four members will release new music over the next 1.5 years, we might get a Jin tour/showcase or Hobi live performances, etc. So I guess we’ve got nothing to worry about on that front.

I’m not too sure myself what to expect between now and 2025. Last week I talked about what usually happens when a group enlists based on what I’ve observed:

1. Some people take a break away from k-pop fully.

2. Some explore other groups, whether or not they end up stanning as well.

3. Some people stay in k-pop and remain only committed to BTS

All three options are valid and sometimes there’s no real difference between how people approach options 2 and 3.

But really, while the guys are in the military I don’t expect the infighting within the fandom to reduce. At best it’s going to remain this annoying for the next 18 months. I know people are hopeful we get more spaced out releases but I’m actually expecting some stacked line-ups in releases next year. I’m also not expecting Seven/Golden-style promotions for any member that doesn’t release under HYBE America. The usual suspects (akgaes, shooters, antis, shippers) will be whining in any case so it’s going to be a pain.

And outside the fandom, I know the race is going to be mad. Right now ATEEZ, Stray Kids, NewJeans, RIIZE, Aespa, VCHA, Katseye, IVE, SHINee, Blackpink and few more… are revving up to take over in 2024. I’m so curious to see all the ways these groups/their companies will try to fill the BTS vacuum. How they will try to court ARMYs and pitch themselves as the rightful successors to BTS.

I’m not really sure what to expect but I know it’s going to be a fun time that’s for sure.

#BTS #kpop #BTS fandom #BTS army #bts chapter 2 #bts enlistment

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pengychan · 7 months

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[Baldur's Gate III] Hell to Pay, Ch. 5

Illustration by @raphaels-little-beast

Title: Hell to Pay Summary: Assassinating an archdevil is a daunting task, even for the heroes of Baldur’s Gate. Some inside help from ‘the devil they know’ would be good, if not for the detail their last meeting ended with said devil dead in his own home. Or did it? Characters: Raphael, the Dark Urge, Astarion, Haarlep, Halsin, Karlach, Wyll. Rating: M Status: In progress

All chapters will be tagged as ‘hell to pay’ on my blog. Also on Ao3.

*** Wyll's bad luck continues as he comes looking for help and finds a headache instead. At least this one is not tadpole-related. Small mercies and all that. ***

“Oh Gods, you were right! I could kiss you - without teeth, I mean. And I will in a minute, fear not. Now keep still, I’ll be gentle…”

“... Am I interrupting something?”

Durge’s baffled words - what were the odds they’d walk into someone having a moment twice in a row? - caused two faces to lift up and look at them. One being that of a very familiar cave bear, the other being Astarion’s, his chin smeared with blood the way it usually only got when he was really enjoying the meal. He grinned.

“Love! Halsin just had a bloody brilliant idea!”

“Bloody’s the word I was thinking of, yes.”

“Don’t underestimate the brilliant part of it. You know what I told you, how the blood of thinking creatures is far more nutritious and better tasting than animal blood? But there’s only so much blood you can drain from a human - or a dragonborn, or an elf - before things go south. So I thought--”

A snort.

“Right, yes, no need to raise your hackles. Halsin thought, what about a creature that is a thinking being, but in the form of a large animal with lots of blood to part from?”

“Ah, that is a good idea. Going by the look of your face, it worked.”

“That’s why I said it’s a bloody brilliant idea, did you miss that bit? Halsin, think I can have juuust a little more? A cup’s worth, maybe?”

A huffing sound that they had learned to take for a chuckle, and Halsin simply leaned back his head to expose the neck. True to his word, Astarion only took a few more gulps before pulling away, wiping his chin. “Ah, that’s so much better. Thank you kindly,” he said, and gave Halsin a brief scratch between the ears. A soft huff, and Halsin yawned, clearly ready to rest while his ursine form recovered fully from the blood loss. Astarion stood and went to the door, a spring in his step.

“I’ll take down more than a deer tonight, that’s for sure. I’m thinking of a couple of boars, so we can have a proper feast. Are you coming with me?”

Truth be told, Durge suspected they’d be of absolutely no use on the hunt. Since their arrival Astarion had been up in the evenings and then of course through the night; Durge had tried to spend as much time as possible with him, but between checking on Raphael, fulfilling his promise to Halsin to tell some stories to the cartloads of orphans he’d taken in, and generally spending time with old allies, they were awake much of the day too. Which made them very, very sleep deprived.

‘Maybe I should sleep’ was probably the correct thing to say, but they couldn’t bring themself to. So they took their crossbow, downed an Elixir of Darkvision, and off they went.

With somewhat predictable results.

“Hah! A perfect shot if I say so myself! One down, one more to-- did you just fall asleep on your feet?”

“Bwuh?”

“On second thought, no need to answer.”

Durge groaned, rubbing their forehead and blinking their eyes open. They had technically fallen asleep leaning against a tree, but didn’t remark on that. Their sleep pattern had been really fucked up lately. It was much easier when it was just the two of them, traveling at night and sleeping through the day. “Sorry,” they mumbled instead, following Astarion to the prey.

A chuckle. “For missing my absolutely flawless shot? Of course you should be, but it’s no big deal. The night is young, and you may very well get another chance to see it. I’d appreciate some cheering if that happens.” Astarion let out a hum, pulling the arrow out of the boar’s neck. As he’d boasted, it was a perfectly placed shot.

“No, not just for that.”

“For not noticing my new doublet?”

“Not, not for-- you have a new doublet?”

“Hmph. You never notice a thing, do you. Good thing I didn’t waste gold on that really nice underwear I saw the other day.”

“I still fail to see the point of it.”

“Of course you do.”

“If we get far enough for me to see it, odds are it won’t stay on much longer.”

“My dear, the finer arts of seduction are wasted on you,” Astarion declared, as though that wasn’t precisely what had thrown him off when he’d first tried to seduce them, and what he’d grown to appreciate later. He shrugged, and put the arrow back in the quiver. “So, what are you apologizing for?”

“This was supposed to be a quick visit. And instead, we’ve been quite sidetracked.”

“Well, neither of us expected a devil on the doorstep. And besides, it’s only been a week. It’s not like we'd decided on a destination yet, so there is no rush to go anywhere. Would you mind gutting this beast? I forgot to change shirts, and I rather like this one.”

Most would consider asking a bhaalspawn whether they’d mind gutting a kill was the rhetorical question to end all rhetorical questions, but Durge still appreciated being asked. A sharp enough dagger did short work of the boar’s skin and muscles and they began to remove the organs, quickly but methodically.

“Still, we shouldn’t need to remain much longer. Raphael, or the half of him that made it to the Material Plane, is a devil no longer. Once we’re sure he poses no threat, we go our way.” And maybe Gale will have news for us, they thought, but didn’t say as much. The boar’s stomach joined its intestines on the forest ground. “I promised we’d find a way to let you walk into the sun again,” they added. “I intend to keep that promise.”

“Aw, you are adorable like this.”

Durge looked over, both hands in the boar’s chest cavity. “While forearm-deep in viscera?”

“Well-- that too. But mostly when you’re making promises you absolutely do mean.” Astarion crouched across them, and looked at them in the eye. “I’m starting to think you’re getting more fixated on this quest for daylight than I am.”

A pause, a sigh. “I saw you looking outside the windows. And that conversation with Aylin--”

“It was nothing I couldn’t handle. Believe me, I’ve had worse--”

“And you can have better. You miss the sun.”

“... Yes, I do miss the sun. And I miss seeing my reflection, and being able to savor the taste of anything other than blood, and breaking into people’s homes without being invited. Most of these things are lost to me. It does make one cranky. But I’m happy. You know I mean that.”

Ah. Durge paused, and looked over. A smile. “Yes. I know.”

“Good. So leave the unnecessary fretting to Halsin, will you? I can handle life without sunlight, but not having to deal with two mother hens,” he added, and grinned. “Besides, I am really curious to see what’s going on with Raphael. And I think you are, too.”

A soft scoff as they finished gutting the boar. “He’s not in an enviable position, that’s for sure. At least Bhaal has no hold left over me. Mephistopheles may still hold half of his soul, if it hasn’t been downright destroyed.”

“And he probably didn’t exactly let this half go.” Astarion tilted his head, perceptive as always. “That’s a concern, too. That he may find out the wayward spawn survived, and send someone to end him - or worse yet, bring him back.” He did not name Cazador, but he may as well have; his gaze only darkened that way when thoughts of his former master entered his mind. ”And if they do find him, everyone else around him will be collateral damage.”

“That has also been weighing on my mind, yes. His continued presence at the inn could put people in it in danger. They have Isobel and Aylin, but they could use a few more blades if it comes to it.”

“Or we could just kill him.”

“... Or we could just kill him.”

“But you don’t want to.”

Well, no point in denying the obvious. Durge nodded and took out a length of rope to string the boar to a tree and drain some of the blood. Astarion usually took care of that quite efficiently, but he’d had his fill from Halsin for the night. “I will admit that his current standing with his esteemed father feels uncomfortably familiar.”

“Heh. I knew it. Not very surprised, either. Remember when I told you that if Cazador ever found me, he may come and butcher everyone at camp to claim me back? Well, I was half expecting you to throw me out. With the damn parasite and the Absolute and everything else to deal with, I knew no one needed to watch their back for a vampire lord, too. But you didn’t.” A pause, and he smirked, gesturing at his face. “If you’d do that for an exceedingly handsome vampire, I’m not surprised you’d do the same for a… passably good looking devil.”

Durge laughed, and headed to the nearby stream to wash off some blood. “I am not sure,” they said, “if you’re thinking of drinking his blood or trying to seduce him.”

“Gods, no! I’d gladly sample his blood, but I have no intention to seduce him. Not least because even I probably cannot compare to a personal incubus, I suspect.”

“Mh.”

“... This is the part where you tell me I am a far better lay than the incubus.”

Durge replied without looking up, getting blood off their hands and forearms. “You’re a far better anything than any incubus. And according to the incubus in question, Raphael himself is nothing to write home about.”

“Talk about giving devils a bad name,” Astarion sighed, and Durge laughed again. When they stood, wiping their hands over their shirt, they felt Astarion’s arms around them, head leaning against their back.

“Maybe,” he said, “we can call it a night for the hunt. I got us a large beast, after all.”

“Ah, and you’d deny me the chance to see yet another flawless shot?”

A light bite through the shirt, delicate, teeth barely scraping against scales. “I have other flawless skills to put to use, if you’re so inclined.”

They were.

***

While not unheard of, becoming intoxicated on any kind of substance was highly frowned upon in Baator; few self-respecting devils would do such a thing, or at least not before witnesses. That never stopped anyone from indulging in wine, however, since no devil would ever become intoxicated with something that mild.

Even through the pounding headache and sense of nausea, Raphael knew this. Yet another reminder that he was currently no devil. It did precisely nothing to make him feel better.

“Uuugh.”

Squeezing his eyes shut against the light coming in through the curtains, Raphael forced himself to sit up and lean back against the bedpost. It made his head spin, but after a few deep breaths it was… better. Slightly better. Maybe he could spare himself the indignity of emptying the contents of his stomach over himself, at least. Slowly, the room ceased to spin. And there it was, right where he had thrown it the previous night - that damned book.

Pounding head and all, he could now tell that throwing the book against the wall had been a dire mistake. The rat would walk in and they would know they had succeeded in getting under his skin. They’d found a sore spot he didn’t know he had, and he’d made as much painfully obvious.

For a moment he thought of trying to stand and pick up the ruined book, try to put it back together, but he had barely tried to move when his head swam, and he had to lean back again. He turned, and looked at the lanceboard on the nightstand. A simple thing, made of painted wood; then he blinked and before him there was a far more elaborated one, made of ivory and black marble. In the back of his mind echoed a voice he hadn’t heard in a long, long time.

“You’re more intelligent than you know, but only half as clever as you think you are.”

The words may have been harsh, but the voice was calm; his-- stepfather? -- mother’s widower never raised his voice, not once. Still, it did not lessen the sting of defeat as he moved a piece, and the game was over.

A Theskan Double-Counter Gambit, but Israfel would only learn the name of that move later on. For now, he just scowled at the lanceboard, at the pieces’ shadows dancing in the light of the fireplace.

“Ugh. How did you--”

“You were too quick to get on the defense. Retreat begets regret. Remember that.”

“But I had to defend, or else you would have--”

“I wouldn’t have. I hadn’t noticed the opening. You brought it to my attention in your haste to cover it up, and opened up another weak point I could exploit.”

“... Oh.”

“You’ll need to be more decisive than that, and make your intentions far less obvious. The way you’re playing, you may as well send me a messenger pigeon to warn me of each move beforehand.” A pause, then he reached across the small table to tilt up his chin, to make Israfel look him in the eye. He only ever did that when he wanted him to really listen, so he did listen.

“You won’t always have the upper hand. Sooner or later, you’ll find yourself on your back foot. And when that happens, don’t assume your opponent knows they have an edge on you. They may very well not be aware, and you must not make them aware.”

“But if they know--”

“If they suspect they have something on you, you must not turn that suspicion into certainty. That’s inviting them to strike. Do you understand?”

“... Yes, sir.”

Almost two millennia later, a long way from Tethyr, Raphael let out a bitter chuckle. Of course he only thought he’d understood, then, but he hadn’t. A boy of twelve, still a year away from being taken to Cania to meet his father, he’d believed he was getting a lesson on how to play lanceboard. Only later would he understand what it was that the man had been doing in his limited, flawed, mortal way. He wasn’t teaching him how to play lanceboard: he was trying to prepare him for the Hells, prepare him to deal with his own kin and come out of it alive.

And it had worked, all things considered. He’d learned the lessons and put them to use, then improved upon them; it had kept him safe, and thriving, for a long time. Longer than most spawn of Mephistopheles got to live, as it turned out, until the rat had decided to be too clever by half and Raphael had attacked too rashly, in his own home, too certain of victory to consider what being slain in Baator would entail. Clearly, that one time, he should have prioritized defense after all.

And now he’d let the rat know he had an edge on him, too. He’d die before admitting it, but the ruined book would tell the tale in his stead loud and clear.

And when they stepped in, a bowl of something in their hands, it certainly did. Their gaze found the book immediately, and they raised the scaly ridge that served as their left eyebrow. Raphael had never wished to tear off pieces of someone’s face more. “If you have complaints about the quality of the books I give you, you have but to speak up,” they muttered. If they noticed Raphael’s sorry state, or the empty decanter on the nightstand, they made no mention of it.

Any plans Raphael may have had to try and save face promptly went out of the window. What would be the point? They knew. He’d shown his hand. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction to see him shy away from it. “And if you had questions,” he snapped, putting as much venom in his voice as he possibly could, “you had but to ask.”

A pause, and the rat looked at him in silence for a few moments. “... Yes, this was perhaps unnecessarily underhanded,” they conceded. The apologetic note in their voice was not exactly unwelcome - if anything, Raphael would have appreciated to see them take it a few steps further by crawling on their knees begging for forgiveness that would not come - but something about it made him scowl all the same.

“Spare that tone for your pet vampire and his tales of woe. Are you expecting to hear of a great tragedy? Of devil spawn barely surviving the Material Plane until his unholy father saw it fit to welcome him in his home?” He scoffed. It was a common story to most cambions, save those whose mortal mothers were brought to the Hells prior to their birth, but it was not his. It had never been. “You’ll be sorely disappointed. I wanted for nothing.”

“You were luckier than most.” The bhaalspawn picked up the book, or what remained of it.

Raphael scoffed. “May I inquire where you even found that book?”

“In a box, inside a cave. You’ll find a disconcerting amount of things in boxes inside caves.”

“I am far from the only cambion sired by an archdevil. What made you think--”

“Lanceboard.”

“I beg your pardon?” Raphael said, in a tone that made it plain he was not begging for anyone’s pardon.

“This was about a cambion sired by an archdevil in Tethyr, just as it broke free from the Calimshan Empire. It reminded me of lanceboard. I saw you play it with Mol, and I have been looking at it now,” they added, gesturing at the lanceboard on the nightstand. “You play by Calimshan rules, ancient ones. Hardly anybody does anymore, even in its former nations.”

“Hardly anybody can play a proper game of lanceboard anymore, is what you mean,” Raphael muttered. “A true art form, lost to time. Was that all you based your guess on?”

“More or less.” A shrug, and the breakfast was set down by the lanceboard. “It was just an intuition.”

One that I made a certainty, with the worst amateur mistake, Raphael thought, and could taste bile in the back of his throat. He waited for the rat to continue, to mock him or at least hint at what they wanted out of the knowledge, but they said nothing of the sort.

“Isobel will come to have a look at your injuries shortly,” was all they said, and they were leaving, taking the book with them. Raphael glared at their retreating back, then glared at the closed door for several minutes for good measure. Finally, entirely ignoring the bowl of food, he drew in a deep breath and lifted his hands.

“Vis medicatrix,” he all but growled.

The healing spell rolled over him, and he breathed out in relief. He tried to move his legs beneath the blankets, bracing himself for pain. It did come, of course it did, but not as unbearable as he expected, and both legs answered to his commands. He could move them without searing agony; he estimated it would be a matter of days, maybe even less than a week, before they could hold his weight and he could walk again. And once he did, he would proceed with the next stage of his plan.

As soon as he worked one out.

***

“What-- in the Hells-- was that!”

Dalah’s voice was strangled, as though trying to force out words through a throat as narrow as a reed. Lounging on their bed - lounging was about the only way they knew how to rest on a surface - Haarlep clicked their tongue.

“It sounds like a forced ascension. Raphael could usually-- mostly-- control his Ascended form before, but that was with his soul in one piece. It seems that only half of it isn’t handling it as well.” A pause. “That, or Mephistopheles went ahead with some experiments. Wouldn’t put it past him. Or it’s both. Either way, I can’t imagine it’s pleasant. Raphael always hated having to resort to it. Getting himself back under control was difficult and I’m pretty sure the transformation itself hurt like-- well. Hell.”

“I’d never seen anything like it. And I’ve been here--” A pause, a grimace. She didn’t know, Haarlep could tell, just how many centuries she’d been there. Given how old Raphael was, it had to be around eighteen centuries, give or take a few decades. “... A long time.”

“Yes, that specific little trick is beyond most devils. He is the spawn of an archdevil, after all, and it comes with heritage. It’s part the reason why so many here hated him, his less than lovely personality aside. It was an insult of sorts, that a half-fiend would have such power. Mephistopheles just got himself an excellent guardian for his vault.”

“A monster, that’s what he got himself.” A shaky laugh. “That’s what I gave him. That thing could tear through most souls and devils in Cania like nothing, if not for Barbas’ hold on it.”

“All the more reason to keep him on a tight leash.” Haarlep leaned in, taking a good look at her. The somewhat startling resemblance to her son’s human form aside - how Raphael had not seen it, they had no idea - there was nothing remarkable about her, which was remarkable in itself. “For someone who came so close to him,” they pointed out, “you’re surprisingly free of horrid burns, or scarring, or melted eyeballs. And surprisingly alive, if one can call yours a life.”

“It almost got me. I don’t know what stopped it,” Dalah said, a little too quickly to be entirely believable. Holding something back, wasn’t she? That wouldn’t do. She could hold back all she wanted from them, but she answered to someone else who just wouldn’t be denied.

“If there is indeed a way to tame the new guardian of Mephistopheles’ vault, there is someone who would certainly like to be informed.”

A pause, and she looked out of the window for several long moments, eyes fixed on the icy mountains in the distance. “... I spoke his name. The one I chose, not the one Mephistopheles saw fit to bestow upon him the day he had him brought to Mephistar.”

“Ah, yes. Mephistopheles does tend to do that. He likes to choose how to name his things. He and Raphael have that in common.”

The remark made her hesitate, and turn to look at Haarlep. “What was your name? Before?”

“I didn’t have one. I don’t especially mind, don’t go worrying that mortal mind of yours. Haarlep grew on me.” A grin. “Any name will grow on me, once I hear it moaned with wanton abandon enough times. And believe me, I never failed to make it happen.”

She made a face. “I don’t know why I still ask questions,” she muttered, and turned to leave.

Haarlep, on the other hand, had a question of their own. “You know, I was wondering,” they said, sitting back on the bed. “All this time, did you think of him as Israfel or as Raphael?”

A pause, her back tense. She didn’t turn, but they could hear her scowl when she spoke. “I didn’t think of him at all, and I was better off for it,” she snapped, and stormed out before Haarlep could ask anything more. They sighed, leaning back with a click of their tongue.

“Eighteen centuries in Cania, and still trying to lie to a devil,” they muttered, and looked outside, across the courtyard, to the window leading to the outer portals.

Perhaps, one of those days, they may just set out to see how their little brat was faring in the Material Plane.

***

“Hey! Look!”

“Look over there!”

As a gaggle of children abruptly ended their playing around a tree, Wyll found himself wishing he’d traveled at night. Halsin’s charges had been through Hell as it was - figuratively and, for several tiefling orphans, quite literally as well - and he should have known better than showing up like this, horns and all, a devil of all things.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Have they not seen enough horrors as is?

He stopped some distance away, heart dropping, and immediately held up his palms to try and show he meant no harm.

“Well met. I mean-- I have no intention to hurt any of you. I’m looking for Hals--”

A shriek cut him off, but it held no terror. Several children broke off from the group to start running, but not away - towards him.

“That’s the Blade of Avernus!”

“It’s him!”

“Daddy Halsin told us all about you!”

“Remember me? We met at the grove! When you were the Blade of Frontiers! You showed me how to swing the sword!”

Wyll blinked, taken aback, but surprise melted into elation when he met the eyes of a boy who looked very familiar indeed. “Umi! Oh Gods, I’m so happy to see you again!” he crouched, forgetting all about his hellish appearance. “Ah, you’re getting tall! I was certain you'd get through it all. You just had to buy enough time to run, remember?”

“It was Rolan who saved us-- but, I’ll learn how to fight well! Like you!”

“Ah, I’m sure you will. Though I believe Halsin’s fondest hope is that you’ll never need to fight.”

“I’ll only do it if I must. To keep us safe. Can I call myself the Blade of Frontiers when I’m big?”

Wyll laughed. “Of course. Name’s up for grabs now, I guess.”

He tried to stand, but several small hands grabbed at his clothes to pull him back.

“Are you really fighting devils in Avernus?”

“You and the big lady with the heart on fire?”

“What is it like?”

“How do you do it?”

“Tell us everything!”

Well, what choice did he even have, Wyll reasoned, but to satisfy the request of such eager fans? He laughed, and stood. “Very well, I’ll tell you all that’s happened in the past half year.” Or… maybe not quite all of it. “I do need to see Halsin, though. Could you take me to him while I tell you everything?”

“Yes!”

“He’s at the inn!”

“He’s spending a lot of time at the inn. With the other heroes.”

“The other-- is someone else from my party here, too?”

“Hu-uh. The dragonborn sorcerer and the vampire spawn.”

Oh, Wyll thought, thank the gods. Luck had been in short supply up to that point, and he very much welcomed such a stroke of it, finding three of their companions in the same place. If they accepted to help in what was probably a suicide mission, then the five of them could perhaps hope to succeed.

“What about the lady with the burning heart? Can she come visit us too?” a girl asked.

The thought of Karlach stuck waiting in Avernus, even in the relative safety in the House of Hope - ‘I’ll just eat dirt or whatever!’ - dampened Wyll’s smile, but only for a moment. “All going well,” he said, “she’ll be happy to visit you very, very soon.”

***

“All right, I think it’s enough.”

“No, it isn’t.” Raphael ground his teeth and took two more steps. Even with most of his weight on the crutches, his legs ached and trembled from the effort. By the door, the most insufferable cleric to have ever graced Selûne’s ranks crossed her arms.

“There’s no reason to put so much strain on your legs. You’re doing well, and impatience is not your ally. Don’t undo the progress--”

Whatever she said next was lost to Raphael, as he put another foot down and pain shot up his spine. He turned with a scowl, arms trembling from the effort of keeping himself upright. “Don’t presume you may tell me what I may or may not do, mortal!”

Isobel Thorm’s eyes narrowed. “I am sorry, could you repeat? I think I just heard you say you want me to break your legs again, but I may have misheard. Did I?”

Raphael ground his teeth, and he almost dropped one of the crutches to throw the fireball he’d been aching to throw for the past several days. Except that it was unlikely to do her any harm she couldn’t counter, and he’d drop to the floor the second he let go of the crutch. And it would likely bring a bloodthirsty vampire, an even more bloodthirsty aasimar, and the former Chosen of Bhaal upon him like a pack of wolves. Plus a bear, probably; Raphael had not faced the druid directly, but he knew he could deal significant damage of his own.

Overall, there was an overwhelming amount of evidence pointing to the conclusion that attacking Isobel Thorm would be most unwise.

No matter. I’ll make them all suffer at a later time. I’ll make sure it lasts, savor the symphony of their scream to the last note before I end them and then bring them back to do it all over again. They will die painfully for each time they wronged me.

“... If you’re done killing me in your head, would you grace me with a response?”

Her death, Raphael decided, would be particularly slow.

“Fine,” he muttered instead, trying and failing not to sound like he’d swallowed a lemon. At least she didn’t further humiliate him by trying to help, and let him get back on the bed on his own. The pain lessened and he breathed out, saying nothing as she cast a healing spell.

The relief was immediate; without agony shooting up his spine, he could tell that at least one thing she was correct. Impatience was not his ally, and bursts of temper would get him nowhere in terms of getting them to lower their guard. The thought made the next words that left his mouth easier to force out. Not that he let his tone betray the fact they left an acrid taste on his tongue. “... That was uncalled for,” he said, leaning back. “My apologies.”

“Apology accepted.” Isobel Thorm’s voice was dry, but no further threats followed. The crutches were taken, and placed against a wall away from his reach. “Progress is slow, but steady. You’ll be able to walk again in days, if you don’t push yourself too hard.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Raphael replied, and watched her leave in silence. He heard the key turn in the lock, and listened just long enough to hear her footsteps on the stairs before he sat up again. A quick healing spell on himself, and he made another attempt at standing, a hand braced against the wall. His knees almost buckled, but held; Raphael ground his teeth against the pain, and forced himself to move towards the crutches.

Impatience was not his ally, but neither was idleness. He was able to walk without searing agony, leaning heavily on the crutches, and wasn’t even short of breath when he got to the window. It was open, but two guards keeping watch beneath it ensured it wouldn’t be a viable way out even if he could go anywhere in his current state. Raphael had never been particularly fond of quaint corners in the middle of nowhere, but looking outside was better than staring at the walls or playing yet another game of lanceboard against himself.

Until he noticed the gaggle of chattering children marching up to the inn, of course; how much Raphael loathed chattering children couldn’t be overstated. He wrinkled his nose and almost moved away from the window - until he spotted the man walking among them as a few ran ahead into the inn. Or to be more accurate a devil, with a familiar set of horns and an even more familiar sending stone in place of his right eye.

Well, look at that. Wyll Ravengard, self-styled Blade of Avernus - what was he doing there?

Why would Mizora’s attack dog be here, if not for me?

Something stirred in the pit of Raphael’s stomach, a very unwelcomed stab of concern that came much too close to fear for his taste, but he forced himself to ignore it. Why would he be there for him? Had the rat called upon the warlock to slay him? No, surely no. Loath as he was to admit it, no great power or skill would be needed to overpower him as he was now. The bhaalspawn, the vampire, the druid, the cleric, the aasimar - each of them could easily kill him on their own.

He may have been sent by the Hells, of course, to kill him or bring him back. But why? Wyll Ravengard answered to Mizora, and Raphael had no quarrel with her. She was under Zariel’s authority, true, but the archduchess of Avernus was not known to meddle with the business of other archdevils. If his esteemed father knew he lived, he had plenty of forces of his own to send after him.

Unless he promised a reward, and Ravengard just so happened to know where to find me.

Raphael swallowed, stomach clenching, and moved to the side so that the curtain would hide him. He could hear voices - no longer just children’s, although their obnoxious chattering made it difficult for Raphael to catch what the rat and the druid were saying.

“Wyll! We didn’t expect--”

“-- always a pleasure--”

“-- please children, he’ll tell you more stories later--”

“-- did Mizora tell you who your target--”

More words were exchanged, but Raphael couldn’t catch them. He peered out of the window to see most of the children dispersing at last, while the rats headed back inside. He finally heard the bhaalspawn speak only moments before they disappeared through the arches leading into the inn.

“He’s upstairs. I’ll take you there now,” they were saying, and Raphael heard the warlock sigh.

“Ah, thank you. I knew we could count on you to kill a devil.”

Then the door closed, as deafening as thunderclap, leaving Raphael motionless at the window, mouth dry as the Calimshan desert. Something gripped his stomach, icier than the glaciers of Cania, as he heard the familiar creaks and thumps of steps up the stairs. Through the terror, he almost laughed. Of course Mephistopheles knew he’d escaped; of course he’d put a contract out on him. Who knew, maybe he’d even been the one to plan his escape so that he could send his dogs after him, for the thrill of the hunt. The rat must have been planning to help his friend collect his head from the moment they’d seen him.

Why else would they keep him alive? He should have seen, should have known. He hadn’t questioned their intentions enough. An amateur mistake - the last mistake he’d ever make.

But that didn’t mean he had to make it easy for them.

Raphael turned to face the door fully, leaning against the wall, and dared let go of a crutch to lift his right hand. Between his fingers air sizzled, heat building up as he focused, drawing from any scrap of power he’d left. Not the final act he’d planned for anything, let alone for himself, but it would have to do. It was still better than waiting for the fatal blow in the neck like a beast to slaughter, he thought as the key turned into the lock.

The devilish spawn came forth into our world in blood and flames, the book read. He found some solace in that, at least. There was a sort of poetry to it, leaving the Material Plane just as he’d entered it. The thought made Raphael sneer as the door handle was pushed down.

“And that, love, was that,” he growled, and fire burst forth from his palm just as the door opened.

***

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#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #raphael bg3 #the dark urge #astarion ancunin #wyll ravengard #halsin silverbough #haarlep #hell to pay

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