#I'm back to my bullshit of WINGS ON EVERYONE

[danikamariewrites]

Just This Once...Right?

Rhyssian x reader

A/n: Happy @polyacotarweek day 5! I love seeing everyone's favorite tropes. My favorite trope is one bed and having the mating bond snap for one person and not the others then when it's revealed evryone is happy. I'm not sure what we call that one but enjoy :)

Warnings: some angst

“The High Lord does apologize for not being here to greet you this evening,” Helion’s assistant, Lana, said as apologetically as she could. The female had no time for bullshit which included small talk and you admired her for that. 

As she led you through the guest wing you looked around at the gold decor. The suns adorning the cream marble on the walls with paintings of Helion’s choosing. You wish you could talk to your friend right now. In desperate need of his advice. Lana’s commanding tone brought you back to the current conversation. “Unfortunately in the suite we have you in is one bedroom. The palace is under renovations, as you noted Rhysand.” She said dryly.

Your High Lord playfully rolled his eyes at her. “Were my comments not of the complimentary variety?” Lana let out a disapproving hum. As she opened the door to the guest wing you were greeted with a brightly decorated room. Soft yellows and cream, fluffy furniture accentuated by the golden sunlight coming through the floor to ceiling windows. Flowers that only thrived in Day Court soil in porcelin vases atop tables. 

As you explored the room you didn’t hear the rest of the conversation until another fae from Helion’s court came to get Lana. “One last thing before I leave you,” Lana noted absentmindedly as she looked over some documents, “There’s only one bedroom currently so I will leave you three to figure that out.” 

Before any of you could say anything Lana was closing the door behind her. You did your best to keep your heart rate down so Rhys and Cassian wouldn’t hear it. Throwing a glamour around you so they wouldn’t scent your fear and anxiety. “I’m going to go unpack,” you get out quickly, locking yourself in the bedroom. Your bags were stacked at the end of the bed. The single bed you noted. 

Fantastic. 

One bed and three of you. 

It’s not like you didn’t want to share a bed with Rhys and Cass. That’s all you wanted, to be near them. To be held by them. As you unpacked you thought back to last week and why you’ve been avoiding the males out in the parlor. 

You and Rhysand were walking around Velaris after a nice lunch. The sun shining and a nice breeze was coming off the Sidra. As you looked up at him you couldn’t help but let your love for him cloud your mind. He’s so perfect. You need to get over yourself and confess your crush on Rhys. The two of you have been toeing the line of friends and something more for years now. 

The High Lord looked down at you, those sapphire eyes sparkling in the sun make your breath catch in your throat. You saw his mouth move but didn’t register what he was saying. Something inside you was singing. Glowing. 

A string wrapping snugly around one of your ribs anchored to Rhys. The bond. Something you’ve waited for all your life had finally happened. Rhys leaned dow to peck your cheek as he whispered, “I’ll see you later for dinner.” He smiled, walking off to meet with the governors. Frozen in place all you could do was wave at him. Your mind racing. 

Squealing excitedly, you race back to the Town House. Tearing through the kitchen you gathered ingreidentes to make Rhys’s favorite cake red velvet cake. 

You were so focused on getting everything together you didn’t hear Cassian come in. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you flush to his chest swaying you back and forth. A small yelp leaves your lips, causing Cassian to giggle. “Hey sweets, whatch ya makin’?” Turning to face Cass you give him a dazzling smile. “Can you keep a secret?” Cassian returns your bright smile with a nod. Using one large hand Cass squeezes your cheeks, “Tell me sweets, what’s goin on?” 

The words and excitement died on your tonuge. That glowing feeling you had just felt with Rhys you were now feeling with Cassian. Another golden thread anchored to another male. How could this be? 

The blood rushed from your face. How are you going to tell them? This bond would tear them apart. You would love nothing more than to not have to choose between the two males. Would they make you choose? No, you won’t put them in that position. 

“Sweetheart?” Cassian prods. “Uh, nothing. Just thought I’d make dessert for tonight.” You said flatly. Without a second glance you turn back to your ingredients, moving slower than you had before. Cassian didn't pry further after sensing your mood. After dinner you had went straight to bed not wanting to hang around with this massive weight on your chest.

Now, a week later, you had completly forgotten about the trip to the Day Court that you couldn't back out of. As an emissary and Rhys's third you just had to suck it up. It was only a few days. You could be normal about this.

A soft knock sounds over your aggressive slam of the dresser drawer. Cassian poked his head in as you pulled your black silk nightgown on. "Hey sweetheart, can we come in?" You hum in answer as you stride over to the bed.

You curl up against the headboard facing the males. Rhys sits in front of you while Cassian makes himself comfortable next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. You tense under his touch but Cass doesn't let up. Keeping you as close as you'll let him.

"We're concered, darling. You've been distant with us." Rhys reached out his hand to gently rub your leg. "We just want to fix what we did wrong, y/n. Please talk to us." Cassian rests his head atop yours.

Closing your eyes you felt a lump forming in your throat. If you opened your mouth nothing would come out but sobbing. "Would it be easier if you let me in, darling?" Sniffling, you nod and curl into Cassian's side as a few tears fall.

Feeling Rhys gently caress your mental shields you let him in, asking him to share the memories with Cassian. As they went through your memories they were hit with all your emotions. Happiness, joy, confusion, and sadness. At the end they both gathered you in their arms.

You started crying harder. Gripping them as if they would slip away. After a few minutes Rhys holds your face in his hands, brushing away your tears. "Look at me darling," he whispers, "We would never make you pick between us. The fact that the bond connects the three of us is so rare, it's amazing. There is no one I'd rather be connectde with in this world than you and Cass."

Registering his words your tears stop. "Really? You-you both want to be with me?" Cassian chuckled, kissing the top of your head. "Of course we do, sweetheart." You smile looking between them.

"I love you both, so much." "We love you too, darling." Rhys presses a kiss to your forehead. "Now lets get some sleep. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

"And a long night," Cassian teases, wiggling his brows at you. You chuckle at him lightly slapping his strong chest. Your mates move to leave you alone for the night. You fling out your hand to grasp their wrists. The bond urging you to keep them close. They must've felt your unintentional pull because they immediately came back to your sides.

"Will you...can you guys stay with me? I don't want to be without you anymore." Cassian didn't need to be asked twice. Stripping down to his undershorts and getting under the covers, pulling you to his chest. Rhys followed quickly, pressing one last kiss to your forehead before you drifted off.

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar reader fic #acotar reader imagine #acotar imagine #rhysand x reader #rhysand x you #rhysand acotar #rhysand fanfic #cassian acotar #cassian x you #cassian x reader #cassian fanfic #rhyssian #poly!rhyssian #poly!rhyssian x you #poly!rhyssian x reader #poly+acotarweek2024 #poly+acotarweek d5

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

Is there any chance we could have a round up of the Circus? I am so lost on how the dominoes fell over the last 40 days

Okay this is not comprehensive, because (a) my husband the politics nerd is currently on his way to a gig in west Wales somewhere and so cannot chime in and also (b) all our political journalist friends are understandably quite busy right now doing political journaling, but I seem to have an influx of new followers who are also very confused and don't understand what's going on, so I shall try.

Alright so what we're seeing here is the Second Clownfall of 2022, the hotly anticipated sequel to the Adventures of Big Dog the Clown. However it revolves around the character of Liz Truss, and will use some terminology, so

Previous Reading

Important Terminology - Required Reading

What is a Whip?

How do Whips work?

Shadow Cabinet

Front Benchers, Back Benchers and the Cabinet

What do we need to call an early General Election?

The Adventures of Big Dog the Clown - Suggested Reading

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Elanor's Guide to Liz Truss - Suggested Reading

Character-based prequel

...okay I think that's everything. On with the show!

The Premiership of Liz Truss (2022-2022)

Week One

We begin our tale on September 5th, 2022. Coincidentally, that was also the date that I personally started my new job. Let's see which of us does better!

The Daily Mail is delighted, and runs a headline proclaiming "Cometh the hour, cometh the woman". Tory rag in a frock coat the Financial Times runs an op-ed:

So the results ARE IN! She will definitely fuck us up! But that's a good thing for vague reasons! Blitz spirit everyone. Tally ho, pip pip, shoot a servant and have sex with a wall, hey what. Good old Blighty.

(That's my best impression of Tories I'm good at their accents I hope you like it)

Truss does an interview with Laura Kuenssberg, and fellow guest and comedian Joe Lycett wildly and effusively applauds her every word. Even Liz realises no one would sincerely applaud her. Bafflingly, the entire right wing press and every member of the Tory party freak out about this, because they don't understand the function of a satirist and don't know how to defend against it. It is extremely funny. Joe Lycett announces he's a right-wing comedian now, and begins a new extended career bit effusively and sarcastically praising right wing politicians. They all cry extensively and call him mean.

SO, it's been a long hard leadership campaign! But she made it. For years, Tories have been blighted by the curse of the PM/Chancellor relationship, backstabbing and cheating and lying about each other to try and get power. But not our Liz, oh no; her Chancellor is Maths Mate and BFF Kwasi Kwarteng, an insipid and poisonous gnome known for three (3) things:

He once wrote a stupid book with Liz Truss about his stupid opinions on how he thinks economics work and everyone laughed at him and stuffed him in a locker

On the night of the Brexit vote he was overheard by a journalist gleefully saying “Who cares if sterling crashes? It will come back up again“ which are of course the words of a man who knows all about economics and how they work

This fucking bullshit back in July:

But hey IT'S OKAY! Everything is fine! Because Liz and Kwasi are BFFs who certainly never had an affair and are marching in lockstep and have each other's backs and both love maths more than their own children if they had any! Maths Friends!

Multiple resignations immediately follow.

Among them is Ben Elliot, the Tory Party chair, which is a pretty big deal from a man who just lived through the Johnson years; also, shockingly, Priti Patel, the deportation-happy Home Secretary, decides that even as an animatronic goblin she cannot support this nonsense.

It's not a resignation per se, but at ten to seven in the evening it's announced that Andrew Bridgen, the Troy MP for Leicestershire North West, has been evicted from his home and ordered to pay £800,000 in legal costs, and a possible £244,000 in rent arrears. Also described as "dishonest" by a judge.

This is not directly relevant to Liz Truss but look, it was a staggeringly weird day and this was basically the topper.

Anyway.

Liz goes to the Palace and is duly sworn in by the Queen, who promptly keels over and dies the very next day. Parliament is instantly shut down for mandatory mourning. As omens go, this one was not subtle.

This triggers the circulation of some very awkward footage of Young Truss talking about how she thinks the Monarchy should be abolished for being a gross relic of horrifying social stratification. However you must understand that it's not awkward because anyone thinks she murdered the Queen. It's because Liz Truss's attempts at public speaking are like sitting through a children's Christmas play when you're the only person in the audience and they can all see your face so you have to look encouraging for four hours when inside you are shrivelling into something approximating an apricot pit travelling to the core of Jupiter.

Take a look at her acceptance speech and wither.

Anyway we're now several MPs and a queen down so she's got to get on replacing those so she can focus on her real love: the much-anticipated mini-budget that she is preparing with Kwasi to save the UK from the harrowing quagmire of crippling poverty that Big Dog managed to drive us into (all while pretending it wasn't Big Dog who did it.)

Fortunately, she does not need to replace the queen! Monarchies take care of themselves, which many people would argue is very much the problem, of course. They had a proper reunion with Meghan From Suits and Meghan From Suits' husband, both of whom were banned from visiting Balmoral, and also the Nonce flew in, who was allowed to visit Balmoral. Such heartwarming scenes.

But the Cabinet, that's another matter. That's something Liz DOES have to do, and it's important she gets it right, Tumblrs, because you see, every time a Cabinet minister is replaced it's expensive and a hassle and it weakens a government by making them look all crumbly, like a packet of biscuits that's been rammed against a wall and now someone is opening it and everyone is bracing for Crumbs.

So, step forward to the Cabinet soulless ghoul Suella Braverman, the new Home Secretary. She immediately distinguishes herself by trying to legalise torture.

And then, naturally,

YEAH THAT'S RIGHT IT'S TICK TOCK TERF O'CLOCK also FUCK the sovereignty of the Scottish Parliament amirite ladies lol Girl Power uwu

Not that she can actually do anything at this point, of course. As I say: Enforced Mourning is in process, which means Parliament is shut down for ten days. No work, no speeches, no appearances, no announcements, just taxpayer's money going on legal fees to see if she can interfere with another nation's elected government in order to strip away the human rights of queer people.

However, while we all weep over the corpse of Queen Lizzie Two and beat our breasts in grief, the already-beleaguered pound is slowly bleeding out through this inaction. And this, to the Maths Mates, is unacceptable.

Two things get quietly slid into the news cycle.

Thing the First:

BIG YIKES LADS

Thing the Second:

Fracking ban in England lifted in bid to boost UK gas supply - BBC News

For those who don't know, fracking is an energy extraction process. Water, gas and dust are pumped at high pressure into shale bedrock to crack it open, releasing pockets of natural gas that can then be harvested for fuel. It's environmentally disastrous for multiple reasons, both direct (earthquakes, groundwater pollution, social impacts) and indirect (IT'S STILL A FOSSIL FUEL YOU STUPID CUNTS ARE YOUR SKULLS FUCKING EMPTY). The Welsh and Scottish governments have both banned it outright, a straight-up "Foot down no, petal". England, though, is the Tory paradise, so the ban was less complete.

However, this is still a Huge Deal - the 2019 Tory manifesto was very clear that fracking would only be unbanned IF "the science shows categorically that it can be done safely". In fact, most Tories don't like it either. Their constituents REALLY don't. Also in March Kwasi Kwarteng literally went on record and said it wouldn't lower European gas prices anyway; but not anymore! Now he thinks it's a zippy idea. Just spiffing. Top hole, pip pip (I'm so good at their accents :))

Scientists who have been studying the environmental impacts of fracking produce their report -

And it is quietly buried, so as not to offend the corpse of Lizzie Two.

Here ends the first four days of the Reign of Liz Truss.

Second Week

Anyway, royalists have gone insane and started a REALLY BIG queue to see a box that supposedly contains the rotting cadaver of the old queen. Multiple people have to be hospitalised because they join the Queue and don't take food, water, warm clothes, or essential daily medications with them, even though the Queue is literally days long. Some die. Many take the ashes of their own loved ones so they can wave them at the box for the thirty seconds they get to be in front of it, like a sort of play date for ashes.

Prince Charles, now King Prince Charles, starts swanning about as King, demanding everyone be sad for him and clap him to cheer him up. Someone holds up a sign saying 'Not my King' and gets arrested. This triggers a whole wave of protests and arrests as free speech slides out the window, until the Met Police chief has to step in and explain to the police like they're five-year-olds that they can't do that, actually, and need to cut that shit out.

But we can't wholly blame the police, because the main pressure to clamp down on protestors actually came from...

The government.

Meanwhile the country goes bat shit fucking insane. In order not to offend the fragile sensibilities of royalists, now so brittle they need to be treated with the same delicate touch normally reserved for unstable nitroglycerin, the UK sees supermarkets lowering the volume of self-serve checkout desks, people's funerals cancelled, vital operations and other medical interventions postponed, Centre Parcs cancelling holidays, FOOD BANKS CLOSING, Nintendo Direct cancelling its live stream in Britain (but not cancelling the release of the recording onto You Tube an hour later because as we all know Queen Elizabeth II was a MASSIVE livestream fan and would have been DEVASTATED to miss it but she was very 'meh' about YouTube), cycle racks being closed, and this unhinged shrieking harridan:

Very normal, lads. Very normal.

Oh and also they cancelled Owain Glyndwr Day so as a Welsh person I am now legally allowed to forcibly ram a daffodil into the urethras of the landed English gentry.

However, the protests grow as the suppression wanes. By the time King Prince Charles comes to Wales, he is met with silent protests, this guy who learned a sentence in Welsh specially for the occasion, and a petition to abolish the Prince of Wales title.

Except government is still shut down, so the petitions are all suspended.

But not to worry! That gives the Maths Mates more time to work on their special mini-budget.

Week Three

More of the same at first, really, but she finally addresses the nation to announce that the Queen was the "rock" on which "modern Britain was built".

Also someone finally spots that the necklace she always wears is a day collar, so that was fun.

BUT THEN

The moment we have all been waiting for, with baited breath.

On the 23rd September, 2022, the mini-budget finally arrives. The golden egg of Kwasi and Liz, their beloved, beautiful child, the crowning glory, the culmination of their economic beliefs and values. They are so proud of it, so sure of it, that they do not even submit it for the approval of the Office for Budget Responsibility. Why should they? This is the moment Kwarteng can finally show the world that he was right; that this is the way to do economics after all; that he alone in his brilliance and genius has reinvented the field and will lead the country to a new era of riches and prosperity.

And the pound does this:

Yikes.

Truss goes into hiding for a day and a half, during which time her aids claim all her relatives have died so she won't have to speak to the press, which is obviously a simply fantastic quality in a Prime Minister. Finally, she resurfaces by doing a series of radio interviews for regional stations around the UK, hoping they'll be easier on her, starting with Radio Leeds. The good journalists of Yorkshire eviscerate her and strew her corpse through Adel Woods. It's downhill from there.

Week Four

One poll puts Labour 33 points ahead of the Tories.

It can be a little difficult to translate polls, because the electoral system is complex, so I asked my journalist friends. They cheerfully informed me that, if translated into a General Election, the Tories would have just 3 seats left.

Except! Of course, naturally, that is me reporting naught but the most extreme result, Tumblrs, dancing upon the bones of my enemies as I chant the rites to make the Tory party die faster. If I were to be fair about this - and I am, of course, a journalist of Integrity and Morals - I would actually give the average poll result. And I am wise and fair to all, ancient rites aside, so I shall.

The average poll result is still 19 points ahead.

Tony Blair's landslide Labour victory in 1999 was 12 points.

Rounding off the day, Labour declare that they are backing a change to a proportional representation voting system in place of the UK’s archaic first past the post system. Funny that.

Anyway, that mini-budget is going poorly. Realising unlimited borrowing rather than tax cuts for the rich is maybe Bad Actually, the Maths Mates decide to get the money for their bail-outs some other way. Can you guess, Tumblrs? Can you guess where they decide to get the money from?

Naturally.

Week Five

In a fascinating little twist, the papers claim Liz banned King Prince Charles from going to the Climate Summit in Egypt. This is interesting for about a billion reasons, not least of which is that the papers seem very angry about this and yet also that it's an unsubstantiated rumour - the phrase "it's understood that _" gets a hell of a workout.

She then does not go herself. Makes sense. They'll probably be mean to her about the fracking.

She then loses the support of the Daily Mail, a paper that five weeks before were ecstatic about her rise to power :( so sad. But why? What made them change their minds?

Well. What else from Truss, but a massive and catastrophic u-turn on the economy?

And she does! The absolute nutter!

Plans to cut the 45p tax rate for those earning upwards of £150,000 were abandoned, as were:

abolishing the planned rise in corporation tax

cutting the basic rate of income tax

the two-year energy bill support plan

scrapping the planned dividend tax hike

VAT-free shopping for international tourists

freezing alcohol duty

easing of IR25 rules for the self-employed

ALL GONE! All gone. The mini-budget is not working so lol jk we'll think of something else, that's how government works, right? The pound promptly implodes further. Of all people, Nadine Dorries is the one to criticise

WE ARE IN A TOPSY TURVEY UPSIDE DOWN WORLD

The Daily Mail still finds a way to say it's all Michael Gove's fault, though.

Anyway, the 5th October dawns bright and beautiful and YouGov polls rural voters:

THIS IS HUUUUUUUUUGE, because farmers just will not fucking stop voting Tory, AND YET. Wowsers. Not just popularity. Voting intention. She might as well have personally infected every farm in the South Downs with foot and mouth disease.

Truss realises her popularity is plummeting and she needs a new audience. She tries to appear down with the kids and declares that she's the only PM to have gone to a comprehensive school.

This is not true. Gordon Brown and Theresa May both did. However, it's certainly true that all three of them became PM by ousting a sitting PM, so there's that I guess.

Week Six

At this point I can start putting in PRECISE DATEs just call ME Robert Peston.

13th October

News reporters start speculating that she'll be done by the end of the month as the first rumoured letter of no confidence reaches us. People realise that her competition for shortest serving PM was a guy who died in office of TB at about the four month mark RIP king sorry about your lungs.

(A reminder - normally, if MPs want to oust a party leader, they must send in 54 letters of no confidence. This makes the 1922 Committee - a bunch of back benchers who preside over this shit - hold a vote of no confidence. A leader who loses gives way - this is very rare. A leader who wins is then immune to another such vote for 12 months, but they almost always crumble within a month or two anyway - this is much more common.)

This is extremely funny, because a newly-elected leader of the party has a 12 month immunity to votes of no confidence, same as people who've won such a vote. Likes charge reblogs cast apparently. MPs are getting desperate.

Pressure mounts. Chancellor Kwasi Kwarteng announces that he is "Not going anywhere."

14th October

Chancellor Kwasi Kwarteng is sacked and blamed for the entire economic mess.

Incredibly, Liz does this without first planning a replacement, so it's several hours before Jeremy Cunt suddenly reappears like the spectre at the fucking feast.

Meanwhile here's Ed Milliband on Twitter

Seven and a half years he waited to retweet that. Seven and a half long years, look, to have the last laugh.

In the end, he still went too soon.

15th October

Deputy PM and also Health Minister Therese Coffey (side note - have they always doubled up in roles like that? Or are there just not enough of them anymore?) announces that she loves antibiotic resistance and dead kids and also breaking laws:

16th October

The Sunday Times calls for Extremely Corrupt Former Grand Vizier Rishi Sunak to take over, and then a General Election so that Labour can take the reins.

The SUNDAY TIMES

Calling for LABOUR

The Sunday Mail tries to stir up support for Ben Wallace taking over, because no one has heard of Ben Wallace so he needs the boost, but then accidentally publish their front page with a different man

In another YouGov poll for the Times, not a single political group, age group, area of the country, gender, or other demographic said that Liz Truss was the right choice for PM

This is the new predicted election graph:

Yikes

17th October

The projected election results are a Labour victory so complete the opposition would be the SNP. Legend suggests Nicola Sturgeon's cackle on finding out was so powerful she accidentally resurrected a witchfinder.

18th October

Meanwhile in the Senedd, Welsh Tory leader Andrew RT Davies, a sort of humanoid boil dressed in ham, tries to accuse placid and gentle First Minister for Wales Mark Drakeford's Labour of being responsible for long ambulance waiting times.

T'was a mistake.

19th October

Oh boy.

Well, first of all, Suella Braverman sends an official email from her private email address, and then promptly leaves the Cabinet at cannonball speeds as though she's seen a brown child about to be given citizenship. Was she quietly fired by Jeremy Cunt? Did she do it deliberately to resign? On her way out, she blames the true source of our problems - the Guardian-reading, tofu-eating Wokerati.

Nigella Lawson spends the day tweeting tofu recipes.

Meanwhile, Graham Brady, the Chair of the 1922 Committee, comes to Liz Truss to inform her that he has in fact now received 54 letters of no confidence. Normally, of course, that would be considered enough to trigger a vote in her leadership; but not now.

However, these are unprecedented times. So he changes the threshold - if half of the Tories send him letters, her immunity will be revoked.

But the thing is, Tumblrs, the thing is...

It is all about to kick off in the most spectacular and catastrophic fireworks since Guy Fawkes had a dream.

Because Ed Milliband, once accused of leading the country to chaos and now riding high on the joy of his well-timed Twitter jab of Some Days Ago, wakes this morning and chooses violence.

He has spotted, of course, that no one likes fracking; even the Tories are against it.

He has also spotted that Liz Truss is very stupid.

So he goes into the House of Commons, and he digs a big pit and covers it over with twigs and leaves so it can't be seen, and he bakes a big cake and he places it in the middle of the twigs, and he sets up a net to fall as well and a big stick of ACME dynamite, and he hammers in little signs everywhere saying CAUTION - TRAP, by which I am of course being metaphorical because what he actually does is table a motion to extend the moratorium on fracking. The signs aren't necessary, really. This trap is easy to avoid.

All Liz Truss has to do, you see, is not use a three-line whip on this vote.

The three-line whip, as you'll all recall, is the highest level of coercion. MPs cannot defy a three-line whip. MPs cannot even abstain on a three-line whip. MPs have two choices on a three-line whip: to vote as they're told, or to be removed from the party. You obey or resign. That's all.

For this reason, it's sometimes called a 'confidence vote', as it is effectively a stand-in for one. The vote is not about the issue at hand - this is now a vote of confidence in your leader.

(He's also laid lesser traps. Years back when fracking was first being heavily discussed, Ed was Labour leader and one of the main figures in those discussions. During today, before it all Kicks The Fuck Off, a Tory stands and challenges him on previous statements about fracking, trying to accuse him of hypocrisy.

He was fucking ready for it.)

Graham Brady pops his head back around the door. He's changed his mind - a third of the party is all that's needed now to trigger a vote of no confidence in Liz Truss. And legend says he's only 17 off.

This is presumably the reason for what comes next.

Liz panics. Liz sees she's desperately unpopular. Liz sees that she has to do something to shore up support; and she sees that her important fracking rule, which her party hates her for, is now being challenged by a former Labour leader, and if he wins (which he will) she'll lose all credibility and maybe they'll take her nice office away and tell her she was a Bad Girl.

And so, with the inevitability of gravity on the now-leaden pound sterling, she makes it a three-line whip, and a confidence vote in her government.

INSTANT CHAOS.

There is uproar! There is rage! There is blinding fury! Tory MPs are standing up in the Commons and snarling and pissing and moaning! No one likes fracking except Jacob Rees Mogg! For TWO HOURS they shriek and scream and gnash their teeth, yelling at Liz Truss, demanding to know why this is happening.

(Legend has it chaos-deity Ed Milliband simply leaned back, put his feet up on the chair in front, and made Christian Wakeford hand-feed him grapes and fan him with a palm leaf, but this is unsubstantiated.)

And then, at 6.55, FIVE MINUTES before voting is ready to begin, the Tory Minister for Climate Graham Stewart stands up and declares that everyone should vote how they want because it's not a confidence vote.

Did I say there was chaos before?

Lol. Lmao, even. Rofl, in fact.

Now Tories leap to their feet and basically all scream one long, unending breath of WHAT-DO-YOU-MEAN-IT'S-NOT-A-CONFIDENCE-VOTE-WHAT-THE-FUCK-IS-HAPPENING-IS-IT-OR-IS-IT-NOT-A-CONFIDENCE-VOTE and so Stewart gets up again and says, right to everyone's faces, "It's not for me to say whether it's a confidence vote or not," which is an even faster and more spectacular u-turn than Truss herself could pull off given that he literally just said it wasn't and did so while being a minister.

And then the voting starts. MPs are now milling about like chickens who've sighted the hawk, clamouring to know if they're going to lose their jobs unless they vote for Satan. The Whips - specifically Chief Whip Wendy Morton and Deputy Chief Whip Craig Whittaker - descend upon them like fucking wargs on the hunt. They don't just spit vitriol and blackmail into MPs ears. They fucking bodily drag people into the right voting lobby. MPs are legitimately screaming. Grown men are crying literal tears. Labour's Chris Bryant reports holding multiple Tory MPs as they sob into his shoulder. Multiple MPs report similar scenes.

And Tories still don't know if this is even a damn confidence vote, or if they should just knock the Chief Whip's teeth out.

And then the Whips, filled with bloodlust and frenzy, suddenly realise that NO ONE IS LISTENING TO US, YOU'RE ALL SUPPOSED TO LISTEN TO US SO WE FEEL POWERFUL -

Cue sudden meeting in a locked room with Liz Truss. For over HALF AN HOUR.

So is it a confidence vote? No one is sure. Deputy PM Therese Coffey thinks so, so in the absence of the Whips she decides physical assault is her job now and is seen by David Linden MP (SNP) physically carrying someone into the voting lobby. Jacob Rees Mogg thinks not and starts yelling "It's not a confidence vote!", to which his colleagues reply, "Fuck off." Meanwhile the Whips have possibly resigned, no one is sure. It is still uncertain if this was a confidence vote.

And Ed Milliband basks in the chaos, playing the fiddle while it all burns around him.

Finally, voting concludes. The Whips reappear to lurk.

The votes are in - the government wins, and fracking will go ahead. But.

32 MPs abstained.

And one of those is Liz Truss.

Which is WILD??!? What possible benefit could she get from that??? No one knows. Everything is uproar again. Guess who else abstained? Well, riveted reader, here's a list with important names highlighted:

Nigel Adams, Gareth Bacon, Siobhan Baillie, Greg Clark, Sir Geoffrey Cox, Tracey Crouch, David Davis, Dame Caroline Dinenage, Nadine Dorries, Philip Dunne, Mark Fletcher, Vicky Ford, Paul Holmes, Alister Jack, Boris Johnson, Gillian Keegan, Kwasi Kwarteng, Robert Largan, Pauline Latham, Mark Logan, Theresa May, Priti Patel, Mark Pawsey, Angela Richardson, Andrew Rosindell, Bob Seely, Alok Sharma, Chris Skidmore, Henry Smith, Ben Wallace, Sir John Whittingdale, and William Wragg.

Kwasi still smarting about that p45, I see.

In any case it then turns out that Liz DID vote, but incompetently, because her voting card didn't read properly, which is actually fair given that she was being screamed at by angry Whips waving Graham Stewart's severed dick and balls around while they demanded power and authority. While she's clearing that up, the press are understandably waiting open-mouthed for comment, but don't worry Liz! Your old pal Jacob Rees Mogg is here to fill in for you!

And thus it is that JRM willingly chooses to go on the live news and calmly confirm to the nation that no one knows if it was a confidence vote or not.

Chaos. Chaos again. Unbridled chaos. The Whips are furious. Everyone is furious. The rebels are now in limbo, unsure if they're now out of a job. Tories are weeping, trying to work out if Rees Mogg WANTS to sink the party. Back bencher Charles Walker MP delivers a frank interview to the press absolutely SHIVERING with rage, like the drummer in a Fleetwood Mac concert. Ex-Lib Dem leader Tim Farron, a bland man known only for the time he himself willingly chose to go on the news and calmly explain that he's a homophobe without provocation, tweets that Liz Truss is a Lib Dem sleeper agent they sent in to destroy the Tories, sparking what is likely to be a whole slew of conspiracy theories by next week. No one knows what is going on. They all decide to sleep on it.

The good folks at Wikipedia ultimately decide to make three separate pages for the UK 2022 government crisis, and to label them with the month "to leave room for another by the end of the year."

Ed Milliband skips all the way home, and treats himself to a bacon sandwich.

20th October

Okay, Liz thinks, the morning after. Okay. Last night was bad. But today will be better.

So first... the vote.

Because there's bad news for Tories who like money and good news for people who like liveable planets - there are problems with the vote. For one, the vote counts are being called into question. Are the results reliable?

For another, the Speaker of the House of Commons calls for an investigation into the reports of, um, assault. So will the result stand?

It's so unclear! And so is that ongoing issue of whether or not the damn thing was a confidence vote. Angry whips say YES, JRM says NO, Downing Street refuses to pick up the phone to the BBC, but does send ITV's Robert Peston a text at 1am to say it was definitely a confidence vote and, unrelatedly, the Whips aren't resigning :)

I think we have found the price paid to keep the Whips.

Meanwhile. Let's see what this has done for Liz's leadership stability!

13 letters of no confidence are confirmed submitted by Sky, 5 of which came in overnight. The 1922 Committee reconvenes the coven to discuss matters. Simultaneously, the One Nation Conservatives reconvene their coven to discuss the same. Presumably there is much "Girl what are YOU doing at the Devil's Sacrament?"-ing and "Same cloak, how embarrassing"-ing. MPs are CLAMOURING for her head. It is VICIOUS. It's like cartoon piranhas in a supervillain's lair; which is highly appropriate, because that's exactly what Tory MPs are.

Graham Brady, head jester of the 1922 Committee, demands to see Liz Truss.

He walks into a room with her, and the doors are closed. Half an hour later, he walks back out of the room.

Ten minutes later, she calls a press conference.

45 days after being appointed, Liz Truss breaks the record, and becomes the shortest-serving British Prime Minister.

#politik #the second clownfall of 2022

[storydays]

Scrambled Eggs P1

(3rd POV)

Charlie hummed to herself as she made her way towards her brother's room. 'That dummy probably fell asleep at his desk again.' she giggled to herself before knocking on (Y/N)'s door. She frowned softly; (Y/N) was usually a light sleeper, so that knock would've woke him up immediately.

Charlie opened the door to pop her head in, her eyes landing on her brother's bed,  eyes widening at sight before biting her lip to stop herself from squealing too loudly.

In (Y/N)'s bed,  laid a shirtless prince and Angel Dust curled in his arms. (Y/N) laid on his back, with Angel curled into his side, beak pressed against the side of the blond's neck, of of his upper arms holding under (Y/N)'s shoulder, the other draped across his chest. Both of the spider's lower arms were holding onto the prince's waist. 

Their legs were covered by (Y/N)'s heavy blanket, but you can tell their legs were tangled. (Y/N)'s wings were wrapped protectively around them. 

Charlie used her phone to take a photo, before  quitly shutting the door. 

Once the door was shut, Charlie immediately ran down towards the kitchen and tackled a drowsy Vaggie. "Vaggie! Look, look, look!" She squealed, showing off the stolen photo. "Woah... about time." she muttered, pressing a kiss to Charlie's cheek before turning back to her coffee.

"Maybe we'll let them sleep for a bit. And let's keep this between is, babe. You know how private your brother is." Vaggie smiled, placing a hand on Charlie's shoulder. 

*Timeskip*

Charlie finished nailing the last nail to the banner. "That looks perfect!"she squealed, examining it. It read, 'Happy first week, Sir Pentious!'

"Ahh! I am so excited that Sir Pentious is staying at the hotel." She sang, making her way down the ladder. 

"Um, Pentious was just trying to take over the city with his weird steampunk bullshit a few days ago." Vaggie pointed out, hands on her hip. 

"Well, I haven't seen him try to pull any of that here." Charlie defended, just as the snake himself rolled over a cannon looking thing, his Egg Bois sitting on top.

"What the hell is that?" asked Vaggie.

"Oh, hello, purple female," Sir Pentious greeted, tiping his hat at the women. "It's my new invention, the 'SSSSkin Flayer 11,000.' I'm really looking forward to shooting the other residentsss." He grinned, rubbing his hand together. 

"What? Why?" asked a baffled Charlie.

"Everyone is being too nice," answered the snake before rolling his eyes, "Obviously, it must be a lie. I can sssense they are planning to kill me, but when? How? I must be prepared! Ooh, the new parts of my machine are here." He perked up before slithering over to the delivery girls. 

"Sign, please." Odette held a clipboard out, which the demon did happily before turning to the delivery. "Thank you for your business. Enjoy your Carmine purchase." she waved goodbye as she and her sister departed. 

"Carmine? As in Carmella Carmine..You are buying parts from an overlord?" Vaggie growled. 

"Uh, of course," Sir Pentious said in a 'duh' tone, "She's the top weapons dealer in Hell." 

"Okay, well, that stops right now." Vaggie took the parts from him, turning to him as he protested. "Hey!"

"You absolutely cannot build weapons in this hotel. No one is trying to kill you. People are being nice because they want you to feel welcome." Vaggie raised an eyebrow as Pentious peeked over his cannon to look at the other members of the hotel.

Husk was behind the bar, drinking a bottle of his Cheap Booze, before peeking an eye open and sending a middle finger at the snake. 

Angel was leaning against (Y/N)'s side, turning between scrolling through social media, and watching the prince sketch in his sketchbook, when both males smirked at the snake and sent him their middle fingers again. 

(Y/N) was still pissed about Pentious breaking into his office and attempting to send recordings to the TV themed Overlord.

 Angel just wanted to be an asshole. 

Niffty was dusting the table, before turning slowly and smiling manically at the snake, giggling devilishly. 

"Hmm, I have my doubts." hissed Pentious. "Well, it's true. You have to trust us." Vaggie rolled her eye. 

"But I don't." retorted the snake demon. 

"Well, why don't we focus on that for today's activities?" Charlie spoke up, hoping to lighten the tension. 

"Not before we lay some ground rules." Vaggie interrupted, "No more building weapons, no more plotting against the other guests. And you need to get rid of those things." She pointed at the Egg Bois who were playing with Pentious' new weapon parts, and accidentally fired a laser at the ceiling. 

"Oh, what did I just say? What did I just say?" grumbled the white haired woman, pointing at the hole. 

"What? Not my little Egg Bois! They do my evil bidding for me!" He begged, hugging the little creatures close to him. "Do you want to stay here and redeem yourself?" Vaggie raised an eyebrow. 

"Yes?" Pentious asked, raising an eyebrow. "Then no more eggs." 

"All right, eggies. You've got to go." sobbed Pentious, "I...can't keep you anymore," "Okay boss!" They saluted him, walking away with Vaggie as he continued to protest them, "No, don't resist. This is how it has to be." He sobbed into his hands, Charlie awkwardly patting his shoulder. 

*Upstairs*

Alastor hummed along to the light jazz music he was playing as he ate his....breakfast. "Alastor!" called Vaggie, startling the Radio Demon.  "Do you mind? I'm in the middle of breakfast." he ate another forkful. 

"Pentious' eggs are all over the place and I need you to get rid of them." Vaggie watched through an narrow eye. "Oh, well, in that case, I'd be delighted to!" He walked closer to the Latina, who crossed her arms and glared. "Humanely!" she snapped. 

"Hm. Well that's a lot less fun," grinned Alastor, eyes glowing red, revealing the X on his forehead, before he turned to normal and shrugged. "But I suppose I can take care of that on my outing today." He nodded his head to Vaggie who smiled briefly. "Great."

She caught sight of the 'breakfast', that Alastor was eating and grimaced. "That looks disgusting."

*Downstairs in the main lobby*

"Hi, guys! Thanks for coming," Charlie smiled at the demons sitting in front of her, "It's been brought to our attention that there maybe a litttttlllleeeee tension in the hotel." 

Pentious hissed as he picked up Niffty to further examine her, the little cyclops not minding as he squeezed her, aiming his death ray at her. 

"Tension that can be counterproductive to what we're trying to do here." Vaggie side eyed Pentious as he hissed in irritation. 

"We think that this group could really benefit from...Trust exercises!" "Trust exercises!" Vaggie and Charlie cheered, Vaggie falling on her butt. "Ah, shit." she hissed.

"Vaggie, we rehearsed this." Charlie blinked at her girlfriend, helping her up. Vaggie smiled sheepishly, making Charlie smile at her goofiness. "We're doing trust exercises. "

The group looked her rather boredly, (Y/N) smiling at his sister encouragingly, sending her a thumbs up. 

"So, what's the whole, uhhh, this?" Husk asked, gesturing to the stage behind the two women. "I'm not about to put on some show for these fucking chumps. It's bad enough when Prince here gets inspired, he tries to dress me up." grumbled the cat. 

(Y/N) grinned from his spot next to Angel, "No, no I don't try, kitty, I do." He chuckled to himself, holding up his sketch book mockingly as the winged cat demon playfully rolled his eyes, a smirk on his face. 

"You've been spending too much time with Legs over there." scoffed Husk. 

Angel perked up, tossing his long legs on (Y/N)'s lap, gold tooth glinting in the light. "Oh I will put on a show, but it's cash up front, " He held his hand out for cash, before pointing at Pentious, "And I know that one, can't afford me." 

"Gross! I'd never think of it, spider!" hissed the snake, crossing his arms. 

"That's fine, because I'm VIP only, and only (Y/N) here gets the special treatment from me." Purred Angel, cupping the prince's face, leaning forward, eyelids low, a grin on his face. "Mia cara, non davanti a tutti. (My darling, not in front of everyone).." blushed (Y/N), a shaky smile on his face before he mushed Angel in his face before turning back to an amused Charlie. 

"Mi les lexi re manka. (Don't you say a word, you brat.)" He hissed, she  merely grinned, knowing her brother wouldn't hurt her, "Den eipa tipota. (I didn't say anything)" 

Vaggie spoke up, "Right, well let's get started, Charlie?" Vaggie smiled, trying to move things along. 

"Actually, I thought maybe you could take the lead on this one. I trust everyone, so maybe you know better about how to build it properly." Charlie smiled encoruagingly, as everyone came in a line, to see what Vaggie had planned. 

"What? Uhh, I don't know if I'm qualified, uh--" "Oh, come one. It'll be easy, I'm sure you can handle this." Charlie said, complete faith in her beautiful girlfriend. 

"Yeah, um..sure. I can handle this. No problem." She eyed the raised eyebrows and scowls from some of the men. 

She shouted like a drill Sargent, "All right,  so we are starting with trust falls. Each of you are going to share something vulnerable with the group about yourself and then fall backwards whole the rest of the group catches you! Got it? Who wants to go first?" 

Charlie excitedly raised her hand. "Ooohh, ooohh, me me me me! Me! Me! Me!"  she grabbed Vaggie's shoulder who looked amused. "All right. Get on up here." 

"I love you guys. Like really, really love you." She said, tearfully, falling backwards into Vaggie's waiting arms. "That...felt...great!" she giggled, kicking her feet happily. 

"Angel, why don't you go next?" she suggest, looking at him upside down. 

"Fiiinneee." sighed the spider, as he sashayed up to the stage. "This time, everyone needs to catch him. Okay, unless you want me to hurt you." Vaggie held out her spear in warning. 

Niffty, Husk and Pentious walked closer, (Y/N) moving Vaggie's spear from near him. 

"Oh, somethin' about myself huh? How about this? I love to suck---" Angel grinned widely, making a certain gesture, "I swear to fuck if you say dicks!" Husk growled loudly, Angel smirking to himself. 

"Popsicles, ya sicko! Get your mind out of the gutter." He winked, before falling back into (Y/N)'s waiting arms. "But you know, (Y/N)'s dick too!" Angel grinned, running a hand over the prince's belt buckle. 

(Y/N) dropped him on his ass with a playful grin. "Whoops. "

Angel rubbed his butt ,and rolled his eyes playfully, before turning to Sir Pentious. "All right, new guy, you're up." 

"I don't want to live without my minions. Nobody catch me." Sighed the snake tearfully before falling backwards, grunting when Charlie and Vaggie caught him. "Damn it." he groaned. "That's great, wow, you are slimey." Vaggie grimaced, shoving him away, wiping her hands off on her dress. 

"(Y/N), you're up." Charlie urged her brother, who sighed dramatically, before climbing up to the stage. 

"Umm..." (Y/N) placed a hand on his hip as he hummed,  thinking.  "Um, I can use the feathers off my wings as kunais for long distance attacks. And I have deadly accuracy. " He grinned, briefly showing his demon form. 

He turned and fell into Angel's arms, "Hey, sweet cheeks. Come here often?" Angel purred, making (Y/N) huff and roll his eyes, a very faint red on his cheeks. "Put me down, idiota!" He snapped, mushing Angel's face again. 

"Niffty, your turn." (Y/N) smiled at the little cyclops who giggled excitedly before rushing to the stage, eye wide with murderous glee. 

"Sometimes I kill mother bugs in front of their children as a warning to others." she admitted before jumping off, and face planting on the floor as everyone else took a few steps back. 

The rest of the members eyed her clearly weirded out. "Yay! Pain!" Niffty got up to jump off again and again while Charlie and Vaggie snuck off to talk in private. 

"I don't know if this is really working the way we hoped." Charlie whispered, before perking up, "Maybe we should--" "Honey, you have to trust me here. I got this, okay? I'll figure something out." Vaggie soothed Charlie's worried mind. 

Both looked up as Angel suddenly loomed over them with a smirk and a mischievous glint in his eye, and pulled them into a huddle with his arms. "If you're in the market for some ideas, I got just the thing for some 'trust' buildin.' " He lowered his body to be eye level with Vaggie as she sighed, and eyed him. "What do you have in mind?"

*with Alastor*

The Radio Demon walked through the city as the Egg Bois followed him, chattering away. "Oh boy. What's the plan boss? I like your suit! What are the antlers for? Can I touch your staff thing? Are those your ears? Or is it your hair? I can't tell."

Alastor's right eye twitched in annoyance, as he debated if he should get rid of them humanely like Vaggie asked, or say fuck it. 

"Hark, Alastor. How fare thee this day?" A green and black spider demon asked, approaching the Radio Demon who grinned excitedly seeing the figure. 

"Who's that boss? Want me to rough him up for you?" asked the Egg Bois, ready to defend the deer. 

"Follow in silence if you value your shell." hissed Alastor before turning to the demon in front of him. "Greetings, Zestial!" He greeted, as demons around them took notice of who was there, screaming in fear. 

"Ah, the weather doth become this fine day." Zesital replied, narrowing his eyes at a demon who ran out of a bar, arguing with someone inside. "Oh shit!" They screamed, disappearing.

"Indeed. Looks like we might have some acid rain this afternoon." The two demons watched as another doused himself in lighter fluid before setting himself on fire and running away in fear. 

"I do revel in the screams. How art thou? It has been an age since thou hath graced us with thy presence." The two started walking, ignoring the multiple demons who ran in and hid in fear.

"Some hath soun wild tales of you falling to holy arms." hummed Zestial. 

Alastor laughed,  "Oh, I just took a well earned sabbatical. Nothing serious." Alastor looked around briefly before turning to the green and black spider.  "Though it's fun to keep everyone on their toes, haha!" He turned on a laugh track briefly. 

Zestial chuckled lowly, "There too hath been rumor of thy involvement with the princess and her recent flight of fancy." Alastor watched as he opened his cloak dramatically, through lazy eyes. 

"Tell me, how does thou fall in such folly?" 

"That is for me to know. But please, do guess. I'd love to know the theories." Alastor side eyed the spider as he continued to walk. 

"T'would be grander folly by far to assume the workings of your mind, Alastor. Thou hath been naught but an enigma since thy manifested in this realm." complimented the spider. 

"Coming from someone as ancient as you, I take that as quite the compliment." The deer smiled, before they reached their destination. 

They both looked into a security camera; the camera glitching when Alastor grinned into it, before stepping onto the elevator. 

The Egg Bois tried to follow but were stopped by the Radio Demon. "No, no. I havea very important task for you." He tapped his claws on his staff, "Stay here and guard the front until I return. " The Egg Bois saluted determinedly back.

"Oh, look!" cried one of the Egg Bois as the elavator lifted up, "Frank is up there!" he pointed to their friend who was banging on the glass with worry on his face. "We have names?" asked another who shrugged. 

*Upstairs with the Radio Demon.*

Frank watched in awe, as many other demons came and joined Alastor and Zestial at the table. He stood behind Alastor, peeking over at a demoness. He waved happily, before the woman grinned, showing her sharp teeth. "Oh!" exclaimed the little egg. 

Metallic clinking echoed in the room as a woman with her hair in a horn style, and ballerina shoes on her feet. "Welcome, Hell sovereign overlords. I've invited you all here because you represent the controlling powers of our city." She was joined by the two young ladies who made the delivery to Sir Pentious earlier that day. 

"Together, you own millions of souls. Souls at risk with the new extermination schedule." She slammed her fist on the table. "We need to discuss what can be minimize the impact to our interest." 

Hearing a soft rattling, the woman turned to see Zestial having a seat next to her, summoning a cup of tea. 

"Zestial, so good to see you, my friend." "Enchanted as always, Carmilla." 

Carmilla then noticed the Radio Demon. "Alastor?"

"Yes, I know I've been absent sometime. I'm sure you've been wondering." Alastor gestured theatrically. 

"Not really. But welcome back in any case." replied Carmilla, shrugging her shoulders as Alastor's face tightened in annoyance. 

She snapped her fingers, and Odette handed her a clipboard. "This year's extermination was brutal, far more even than years past." Her daughters sat in their seats, Odette pulling up a slideshow behind Carmilla. 

"We have assessed that about 16% of the population was lost. With the angelic legions, now returning twice as quickly, I think it prudent we--" a door slamming cut her off. 

"Yes, I've got it handled, Vox." Velvette said loudly into her cell phone. "Are you doubting me?"" she asked. "Really? Me? That's what I thought." The pink haired demon cackled, leaning against her chair. 

"Haha! Yes, I know.  They're all a joke." She grinned, purposely making eye contact with Carmilla. "Thank you, Vee. See you soon. Kisses, darling." She sent kisses towards the phone before hanging up, and throwing herself into her chair. 

"Nice of you to join us, Velvette." Carmilla said politely. "Will your...colleagues be joining?" She asked, disdain clear in her face. 

"No. They have better shit to do than to listen to an old windbag,who thinks she's tough shit." Carmilla narrowed her eyes at the language. "I'm here to represent." She then took a picture of the ballerina and add poop emojis around her.

"Charming," Carmilla rolled her eyes before turning back to the slide show. "So, as I was saying, we need to discuss--" Velvette once again interrupted by raising her hand in the air. "Yes?" Carmilla asked, annoyed. 

"On the subject of discussion..." Velvette threw an exorcist's head onto the table, getting a varying array of responses. "Oh shit!" "Oh, tasty!" Alastor exclaimed.

"Where did you get this?" asked the white haired woman, her eyes flashing red. 

"We found it during extermination day." explained Velvette as she stood up. "If these Holy Rollers can be killed, the game has changed." She jumped on the table as she explained herself. 

"We can take the fight to them. The boys and I have  come up with a full assault plan." Velvette was interrupted by Zestial slurping loudly on his tea...for a good few seconds. 

"If it be true thee and thy colleagues desire to war with such meagre proof...Thou art far more foolish than I be thought." 

The fashionista scoffed, " "Meager proof? It's a dead fucking exorcist. I'd say that's pretty fucking definitive. You going blind, old man?" She mocked. 

Zesital shrugged his shoulders. "We know not how this perished...Mayhaps t'was not by a demon's hand at all. If we rush to war without knowing mightn't they purge all  of Hell for daring an uprising?" 

The other overlords muttered in agreement. Velvette noticed that Carmilla was suddenly silent, looking downcast. 

She smiled sharply, "Oh, I get it. So Grandpa is too pussy to fight, so I guess there's no point, right?" Zestial remained silent. 

"Oh. What's the matter, Fossil? Too senile to make a real power grab for--"

@mihawksdemoness @avatar-lover

Let me know if you guys want to me to tag you. And I gave a specialy surprise coming soon! Follow @deathexe6110 bc I owe them a HUGEEEEEEEEE THANK YOU for the surpise <3

#hazbin hotel husk #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin hotel x reader #x male reader #habzin hotel #hazbin hotel angel dust #hazbin hotel lucifer #viziepop #hazbin hotel x male reader #hazbin hotel alastor #storydays

[navybrat817]

Is spitfire ready for the race?

Hmm. Mostly yes.

Friendly Competition

Pairing: Motocross!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: You make a new "friend" before the race starts.

Word Count: Over 1.1k

Warnings: Cattiness, Nat being awesome, talk of motocross!Bucky Barnes (he’s a warning, okay?)

Graphics talent and thanks: Banner by @sgt-seabass. Divider by @saradika. Header by yours truly.

A/N: Hothead and Spitfire have made an impression, haven't they? ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You didn't take a seat right away as Nat led you to the stands. She didn't seem to mind as she stood by you, even with the race getting ready to start. Maybe she sensed that you were a bit antsy and politely didn't rush you.

Your gaze settled on a photographer near the tracks and you hoped she snapped a photo of Bucky. It made no sense why you wanted that. It's not like you'd see the pictures. Plus you already saw how hot he looked in the earlier photos Nat showed you. 

With his stupidly gorgeous eyes and hair and those fucking lips that-

"Nervous?" Natasha cut into your thoughts. 

"I'm not," you said, the corner of your lip tugging a bit. "Maybe a little. I told you, I want Bucky to win."

"And I told you he will. I'm always right, you know. At least I act like I am."

"So humble," you joked, but her confidence helped you relax. 

"Extremely. Let's go sit."

"Natasha! Hi!"

"Shit," she said under her breath. A redhead, a shade or so lighter than your friend's hair, walked over and blocked your path before you could go into the stands. She carried herself with confidence, her shoulders back and not acknowledging anyone else around her. You did your best to make your own judgments on people, but your friend's reaction didn't paint her in a good light. 

I wonder why that is.

"It's so good to see you!"

"Dolores," Natasha said in a clipped tone.

"Did you do something different with your hair? I didn't think the bob cut was back, but you pull it off," Dolores commented with what appeared to be an insincere smile.

Oh. That could be part of the disdain.

You knew well enough that not everyone could be honest and straightforward, but you never understood passive aggressive compliments. Were they even compliments at that point? Why be sneaky?

Be a bitch and own it or be nice.

"No one has complained yet," Natasha curtly responded before you could speak up. 

Dolores either didn't catch the tone or ignored it as she turned her attention to you. "And you must be the new girl I just heard about. I'm looking forward to us being friends," she said, taking a step back so she could look you over. "I love your skirt. Interesting choice for the tracks."

"Thanks. Nat suggested it and, as you already know, she has great taste and style," you said, not at all ashamed or intimidated by her judging gaze.

Like you felt slightly protective of Bucky earlier, you felt the same for Nat.

"Isn't that nice?" Dolores asked, her lip twitching when you didn't cower under her stare. "So nice for her to take the new girl under her wing."

"New girl". That label again. 

"I actually have a name outside of 'new girl'," you said, stating it for her.

"Well, I'm Dolores. Most people call me Dot," her smile widened again. "And some of the boys were just talking about you over there. Heard you made quite an impression on Bucky."

"I'm shocked you've heard anything about me, especially so quickly. Guess good news travels fast."

Dolores bristled, but quickly regained her composure. "I know we aren't best friends yet, but us girls have to stick together. So I thought you should know that some of the boys are pegging you as a, well, pit lizard," she exaggeratedly whispered at the end, like it was a big secret. 

"That's bullshit," Natasha spoke, glancing at you. "They wouldn't."

"I'm just repeating what I heard. I'm trying to warn her," Dolores said with a hint of sympathy in her gaze. It would have worked if not for the mocking tone. "Do you know what that means?"

Oh, I do love the condescension. 

"Groupie for riders? Yeah, I'm familiar with the term," you shrugged slightly. "Did the boys also mention that Bucky kind of asked me on a date?"

The lighter redhead stood up straighter, her eyes narrowing as some of the "friendliness" began to chip away. 

"Something wrong, Dolores?" you asked. 

"He what?"

"He asked her out on a date," Natasha smirked.

"No, he didn't."

"He did," you nodded. "He also didn't give me the impression that he pegged me for a pit lizard. I can't imagine Nat would encourage me to date him if he did."

"I dated him," Dolores blurted out.

The plot thickens.

"It was one date," Natasha said to you under her breath.

"And you should be careful with him," your new "friend" warned as she strode forward. You refused to step backward. "Wouldn't want you to get hurt."

"Are you threatening her?" your actual friend asked, shifting her stance to put you slightly behind her. "Because that isn't a good idea."

It's nice to have a protective friend. 

"It's okay. I'm sure she's just being friendly," you said before Dolores had a chance to answer. You leaned in a little like you were going to whisper a secret. "I think I'll be just fine with Bucky, but thanks. You also have lipstick on your teeth. Thought you should know.

Dolores muttered something unpleasant under her breath when she moved around you and stormed away. 

"Good to see you, Dolores," Natasha said even though she was out of earshot at that point. "Lipstick? Really?"

"What? She did," you said truthfully. "I'd want someone to point it out to me."

"You okay?"

"Just fine," you said when she raised an eyebrow. "It's not a bullshit answer. It's a jealous ex."

Wait. Does one date make you an ex?

"She's right though. You really are making quite an impression on people here," she said, taking your arm so the two of you could finally sit down. "You have Bucky and Maddox making bets over you. Now Dolores is threatened by you."

And I'm not even racing. 

"You make me sound like one of those Mary Sue characters who gets everyone's attention for no reason whatsoever."

"You mean you aren't the most special kind of special person there is?" Nat teased, giving a friendly nod to another girl as you passed by. 

"No, I'm just the shiny new toy everyone wants to play with," you joked back. "I don't have anything to worry about with her, do I?"

"Like what? Competing for Bucky's affection? Trust me. That ship didn't sail. It sank."

You snorted a bit. "Funny."

"Really though. You have nothing to worry about. We have your back," she said, taking a seat. "Besides, a little friendly competition never hurt anyone."

"So, Bucky is a prize now?" you asked as you sat beside her.

"Neither one of you are prizes, but I still think you're both going to come out on top in the end."

With Bucky determined to win the race, you had a feeling Nat was right. 

You just had to make sure Dolores didn't stick a knife in your back when you weren't looking.

Should we worry? Nah. Love and thanks! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Dialed In Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#navybrat writes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes #motocross!bucky barnes #motocross!bucky barnes x reader #hothead and spitfire #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #dialed in #dialed in: motocross au #motocross au #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan x you

[scekrex]

Hurt/comfort anyone? 😌

We all know Adam's "big and tough" act, how he gloats before anyone that he's the absolute best since he's the og dick and he's the reason the rest of the mankind was created, but what about Adam just being Adam like anytime else, especially the scene in court and Sera just talking his ear off about him acting irresponsibly and just revealing the exterminations to everyone in the worst way possible, just giving him a good ol' talk, but not in a nice way, nope. She crushes his ego in a way before leaving him alone in the room, saying she has stuff to attend and he's just standing there, all deflated and his mask glitching from how many conflicted feelings fly over his face, he's resignated, he's even sad a bit, but also angry. At Sera, at Heaven, God even, but mostly at himself since he knows he fucked up another thing in his life that he was trusted with.

He goes back home to unsuspecting of anything reader and just passes by him, not saying a word, even tho reader tried to greet him and hug him, but was unable to since Adam just brushed past him quickly. There was a heavy air surrounding reader's husband and he grew concerned, so he went to check up on him, seeing Adam just curled up on the bed, wrapped up in his own wings, shielding himself away from the world, not a sound coming out of him, but reader knew something shitty happened and just gets behind him, hugging him tightly and gently petting his wings, not saying a word to let Adam calm down and speak when he's comfortable enough to do so. Adam just smashing himself into reader and asking quietly if he was actually so bad at everything that he didn't deserve anything good in his life, if that was why everyone he cared about before left him and even now no body cares in the slightest bit about his existence. Basically just Adam having an existential crisis and reader being his anchor, trying to tell and show him how it actually is and not what his mind is telling him.

This sad, wet cat bitch needs validation and love like no one before 😞🤘

Muah ❤️

Adam might be an insecure piece of shit underneath all that narcissistic bullshit act of his but he's my insecure piece of shit and I love him.

If I'm so wonderful then why am I so misunderstood

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language, hurt (with comfort)

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

“Adam,” the older seraphim raised her voice against the first man loudly, it echoed through her office with much more power than the first man had expected it to, he flinched a little at her tone, his wings dropping to their lowest. “Sera, I-” Adam wanted to explain, wanted to turn it into the stupid joke it had been, but the older seraphim had enough of it. She had enough of Adam, she had enough of his behavior and she was about to let him know. “You’re behavior is no longer accepted by us,” she started what would turn into a monologue, Adam made himself appear a little smaller at her words. “You walk on heaven's holy ground, eat the food our Father provides and whenever someone does not show you respect, your first argument is that you're the first human,” all of the things Sera had listed were true, well they had been the most obvious ones but that didn't make them less true. “And yet you behave like one of them sinners,” that however caught Adam's attention. He was what? How dare she insult him like that, he was very much not acting like a sinner. Or was he?

“You walk heaven's streets with curses on your lips, you dirtied your own purity by sleeping with so many women and men, you behave like a total child and don't know when to stop and where to draw the line and I personally am under the impression that we let your behavior slide for way too long,” she stared Adam in the eyes, giving the first man the most serious look he had ever gotten from the seraphim. The brunette lowered his head in defeat, Sera had often given him shit for being too loud, too much of this, too much of that, she had told him he wasn't behaving like the pure first human should - but it wasn't Adam's fault, not really, because how was he supposed to behave ‘normal’ when God had given him two wives just to take them from him again when he was alive? How was he supposed to fit in and act like everyone else when all that would bring him would be pain?

“Maybe divine judgment failed you. Maybe you should have ended up in hell amongst the other sinners. Father certainly wouldn't have liked it, not after Lucifer's fall, but it would have been the correct decision.” And that made Adam crumble into pieces - at least mentally. Because deep down inside he knew she was right, that no angel other than him dared to stain the name of the Father above, no other angel dared to behave as reckless and merciless as he and his exorcists did. And yes, no other angel than him had slept with so many women and men - a thing he used to be proud of. Before he had met you, before you had become his lover, before he had committed himself to you and only you. Before you, he had been different.

She smoothened out her hair, straightened her back and looked down at Adam, “I have to attend an important meeting. You shall leave and overthink your actions, Adam.” And with that she left him there, leaving him as she had shattered not only his ego but the last piece of confidence he had held inside of him. It took the brunette a while to realize that Sera was not coming back to comfort him, to tell him that she had been too harsh, why should she? She was right after all, Adam was a horrible person, he knew that, had known it ever since.

-

When the door to your shared apartment opened and Adam walked through it, you were quick to get up and greet him with a warm hug, expecting your boyfriend to be just as excited to see you as you were to see him. But he wasn't, in fact he didn't even look at you as he crossed the living room in order to get to the bedroom, no ‘sup babes’, no ‘Fuck I've missed ya stupid ass' no fucking nothing. The tips of his feathers were dragging on the floor as he walked, a sign that something wasn't right - Adam always made sure that not a single inch of his beloved wings was touching the dirty ground, even in your apartment. The brunette clearly wasn't in the mood to talk, yet you went after him to let him know that he wasn't alone, that you were there no matter what was wrong.

You opened the bedroom door quietly and what you saw shattered your heart. Adam was laying on the bed, his body looked like a ball made out of feathers, he had curled in on himself, his wings shielded him from all of reality, from whatever was hurting him right now. Yet you saw how his body shook, the first man was crying.

Wordlessly you closed the door behind you, trying to do so as quietly as possible. Then you walked over to the bed and cuddled up behind him, one of your hand gently found its way into his hair, petting it just the way you knew he liked it whenever he was feeling upset about something, the other hand of yours smoothened out the feathers covering his wings, gently rubbed the little gap between where the wings grew out of his back - you were very aware how sensitive that area of the angelic body was given that you yourself had experienced it before.

For you it was ridiculously hard to keep quiet, you wanted to talk to him, wanted to ask what was upsetting him so much, why he was crying, what there was for you to do to make it better, but you didn't. You remained quiet, Adam had made it clear that he preferred not talking about it at the moment - or maybe he simply found himself unable to do so, you weren't quite sure which was the case but either way you respected it.

A small smile appeared on your face as the brunette leaned into your touch, he tilted his head backwards, sad, puffy and reddened eyes watched you as you continued to pet his hair without a single comment, if Adam wanted to talk, you would listen. If Adam wanted to stay quiet and enjoy your presence in silence you were fine with that as well. For you it simply was important that the first man knew he wasn't alone. You were there to provide comfort and a safe space he desperately seemed to need.

“Am I as fucking terrible as people tell me I am?” there it was again, his unnecessary cursing, fuck Sera had been right. He rolled himself over, buried his face in your neck and pressed his body against your own. Your body warmth calmed his nerves, made his mind quiet down for even just the tiniest moment, but it did cause it to quiet down. “Is that why I only have Lute and you left? Because I'm fucking terrible? Because I don't deserve damn good things to happen to me?” his voice was really just a whisper yet you understood every word perfectly fine, even if it was mumbled against your skin. Your hands remained on the gap between his wings and in his hair, giving Adam the stability he craved. He needed someone to cling onto, he was too unstable to hold himself together so you did that for him. “No,” your voice was soft and warm, yet serious, it caused Adam to blink in confusion. “I don't deserve you,” was the next thing he said, and that was where you drew the line, you gently tilted his head upwards, then placed a soft, loving kiss onto his lips, “Bullshit Adam, you're wonderful and I love you.” “But I’m not. I curse a-fucking-lot, I can't keep shit together, for fucks sake I can't even do the simple things like telling you I fucking love you every day.” And yes, that was true, but that didn't cause you to love him any less, if anything it was things you loved about him especially. “I don't care about all of that, I still love you.” “Will you leave me too? Like Eve? Like Lilith? Once you finally fucking find someone better?” You shook your head lightly, placed another kiss onto his forehead, your lips kept resting against his skin as you spoke, “No, dummy. To me there's no one better than you are. You're the best for me and you'll always be.” Adam didn't answer you.

He clung onto you even tighter, wrapped his wings around you and held you close. He didn't believe you, simply couldn't, not after what Sera had said. But at the same time the first man trusted you with his existence, so why would you lie to him? His inner conflict was silenced as you pulled him into another gentle kiss. You couldn't help but hum a soothing melody, “You’ve already changed so much, so many things you've done,” you felt as Adam's eyes fell shut and as his body relaxed underneath your touch. “So many songs you've sung, and in the end, they will still hold their grudge,” you felt him nuzzle against your skin, felt how his breath evened out. “There’s something I've been dying to say, more than anything,” you smiled as you sang the last part, feeling Adam's fingers digging in your skin as he tried to pull you even closer - not that it was nearly enough though. “More than anything, need you to know I love you more than anything.” The first man pressed a sloppy, lazy kiss against your jaw before he fell asleep, from his lips fell a quiet, “More than anything.”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #adam x male reader #male reader #adam x y/n #adam x reader #adam x you

[mollymauk-teafleak]

Huskerdust babies?? Please say more

GLADLY oh my god there was no way I was going to be able to restrain myself until I made time to write a fic. and right off the bat, so much credit goes to @minky-for-short who came up with this with me

Okay, I'm going to bullet point it for structure. And first off, whether you want this to be a trans Angel Dust or demon magic making it possible or Angel being a porn demon giving him different genitals, go crazy, I don't mind any interpretation

So the fact that this happens is a result of their gradual redemption. Demons aren't supposed to be able to reproduce but as Angel and Dusk slowly improve themselves, they start changing in ways they don't notice and the curse they have in Hell starts to weaken

Charlie is actually the first person to find out, she clocks that Angel is feeling sick which is pretty unusual because he's actually been cutting way back on his general debauchery, having a much healthier coping mechanism over behind the bar. He insists he's fine because he's used to powering through pain and discomfort with a smile on his face. But she won't have it, she's going to get him checked out

Healthcare is very hard to come by in Hell but Charlie can get him access to the facilities in the Sloth ring. But the doctors there are just as stumped, no one can figure out whats wrong with him, it's not a bad batch of drugs, its not a hangover, he's just throwing up and miserable and exhausted

They're back at the hotel and it's Charlie who notices the barest of little sentient sparks when Angel Dust moves but it's not coming from him, it's coming from inside him. And she's the one who realises. And Angel Dust is convinced she's spouting idealistic bullshit but he can't deny it

It's a while before he can bring himself to tell Husk, he's terrified that it means he'll just want to call things off with him, that he's clearly not a winning hand. But eventually they're sat together and Husk mentions casually that whenever he's ready to tell him whats bothering him, he'll listen. Like, he's realised he's scared but he still gave him the space to deal with it and thats what makes Angel Dust brave enough to say it out loud. And after a moment of quiet, Husk just shrugs and says well lets hope he makes a better daddy than he did an overlord, huh?

They have twins in the end, a boy and a girl. Both dads got to name one twin each so Husk calls their son Howard, Howie for short, after a famous magician and Angel Dust calls his daughter Belladonna, Bella for short, because he wanted to give her a name that made her sound strong and able to defend herself

The twins are utterly adorable, no one can deny it. They have the multiple arms from their pops and little heart shaped pink patches on black fur from their daddy, each with a set of wings like his too. They act a lot like kittens, rolling around and hissing and pouncing on whatever moves in the hotel

They're also unashamed trouble makers, they really only listen to their daddy and their pops, everyone else has to bribe them. Fortunately they're cute enough to get away with everything and anything.

The twins also have a super close bond with their Auntie Charlie. I can go into more detail about this in another post but she ends up with the contract for their souls to protect them from both Heaven and Valentino (Alastor has no interest in the babies, beyond not really minding as much as he should when they climb up him, knock his hat off and call him Uncle Al)

But yes I have many many ideas about these two being dads and their little demons and all of that so feel free to bug me about them!

#huskerdust #hazbin hotel #hazbin husk #hazbin angel dust #headcanons

[marchsfreakshow]

Angels Can't Cry Darlin [Trevor Phillips]

Hurt/Comfort //Drabble. My specialty; Halloween. You're feeling insecure about yourself, and Trevor is surprisingly comforting. In his own weird way.

Halloween was so shitty for me, I wrote this out of pure comfort lol.

It's Trevor so you know it's suggestive.

No one's perspective.

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

Cars zipped past, they shouted party music. All of them. Despite Sandy Shores being decently quiet on a good day, something was always happening around the corner. It just so happened that today was a big 'happening'. Halloween.

What a day. Trailers had one piece of music playing, and beers were drunk. People danced, made out, did any and all types of drugs. Most you wanted to do was drink, and people watch. It was your favourite pastime. That's how you met your boyfriend.

You were sat on a little sandy hill facing the entry to Sandy Shores, legs crossed, and finding a piece of real life entertainment to make your day. Today was the day that a guest's car was parked out one trailer. You always kept your eye on the person in this trailer. He was entertaining you, even if he didn't have a clue about it. But, he welcomed a guest into his 'home', despite his demeanour. They spoke about a 'score' and how 'The Chinese..' would be following them or something. It confused you, but you were so intrigued in what happened.

Before you knew it, the man you were watching for entertainment, was staring at you. You were sort of leant on the trailer's front porch, watching the cars. "Why aren't you at the bar with everyone?"

"You weren't there." Trevor just chuckled and stood next to you.

"Why didn't you go baby?" He asked, staring that dark stare at you.

Your answer was a glance down at yourself. You were dressed as an angel. But not a teenage slutty one. Big wings, a headband as a halo, and everything in white. Trevor thought you looked wonderful. He just couldn't stop staring at you, and how wonderful you looked. "What's wrong with that? You look great!"

"No I don't. I look so shitty, and fuck ugly."

"Shut up. You don't. You look fuckin sexy like that."

You just smirked and swatted Trevor away. He didn't take that as a no, and wrapped his arms around you, leaning on your back. "Nah you look amazing. Want me to show you how great you look angel?" He leant you back using his own strength, kissing the sides of your tear stained faced.

"What are those tears for?" He let you go, and you turned around, holding onto his arms. There was some recognition of comfort in the man, and he took off the wings that really weighed down on your shoulders. You took a relaxed, deep breath, as your posture became less stiff.

"I'm sorry Trevor..."

"None of the apologizing bullshit angel. C'mon." He threw the wings and halo into the road, letting whoever drive over them. The cold air brushed past you, and he took your worrying look into the nothingness as a confirmation you needed to be inside. Your back found the bed as you wriggled around trying to find a comfortable spot. Not like Trevor's bed was very comfortable anyway. He sort of held you best he could. Comforting and cuddling for long wasn't his strong suit. "Your costume looks fuckin brilliant. Don't say shitty things about yourself. Understand?"

As a response, you nodded, your arms wrapped tight around your boyfriend's back. It didn't last long as Trevor had you pinned down slightly, and was placing kisses everywhere. He moved parts of your costume around so he could place a kiss on every part of you. "You're gorgeous. Shut up and don't forget that."

"Okay Trevor."

"Not good enough."

"I'm pretty, and nice looking. All for you." You sighed happily, hoping it would satisfy him.

"Good Y/N." He grinned, finally kissing you properly.

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

#gta fanfiction #GTA V #grand theft auto v #trevor phillips imagine #trevor philips #trevor philips x reader #Steven Ogg man <3 #random sorry #trevor phillips #X Reader #gta trevor #trevor x you #trevor Phillips x you #Halloween #suggestive

[corvidares]

okay, so i just finished re-reading Any Way the Wind Blows and this feels so blatant as to be smacking me in the face: simon is disabled.

now, the reason why that makes itself even clearer in this book than in wayward son (where he, of course, also has the wings + tail) is because simon is once again in the world of mages - despite doing his best to leave it behind. compared to wayward son, where hes basically and literally in the wild west. where theres magical beings everywhere, where simon practically fits in because he is one.

but ill get back to that.

ive seen a lot of really interesting points about what simon's wings represent and mean, and i'm not disagreeing with those. but in a very literal sense, they are a disability.

think about it like this: the world of mages (and Normals) is not built for humanoids who have giant webbed wings and a tail. simon constantly struggles with controlling these limbs, and their size makes it ten times harder. spaces are too small, furniture and objects are broken when he spreads them, and many a shirt or jacket are ruined.

he struggles to find a good way to deal with this - spell them away? wear them out by cutting holes in things? fold them extremely painfully into his shirt? even though this last one is treated like a solution for a little while, its far from ideal. who is simon doing this for? himself, or everyone around him? yes, of course Normals cant see them. and yeah, hes expressed discomfort about baz and penny spelling them hidden. but thats not the point. even with this botch job of a way to "wear" his wings, which succeeds at hiding them from Normals, simon still states a couple times that he knows people stare at him and his seeming hunchback. i mean, thats blatant.

(he eventually, with shepard's help, realizes a good way to work around this - zippers or buckles on shirtbacks - which very much feels like an aha! disability aid moment)

im not saying disability is based in how people look at you, or it only being a societal thing. (as in, when he wasnt in the world of mages, he wasnt suddenly 'not disabled at all') disability is a huge spectrum. but those things absolutely can be a part of the disabled experience.

but all of that doesnt even get to my main point: simon has no magic anymore. and in the world of mages, thats a huge deal. magic is like living and breathing, especially for baz and penny. its not something they question or have to worry about not being able to call upon. hell, even before simon lost his magic he was disabled, just to a different extent.

before awtwb, we dont hear much about mages whose magic is weak. but they come to the forefront now - which just solidifies that solid magical ability = able bodiedness.

smith is promising a miracle cure. a cure. think of it like bullshit orgs such as aut!sm spe@ks, wanting to "cure" autism - he wants to cure people. (and hes just as full of shit) why? because weak magic is seen as a disease, a problem, even subhuman.

take daphne, baz's stepmom. her quality of life is fine, great. her weaker magic doesnt seem to put her at a disadvantage. she manages her disability well. but in comparison to the norm, to what is expected of the average mage, shes got nothing. less than nothing. she feels shame over what she cant do.

smith's case becomes even more blatant when we see, at the end of awtwb, that he wants to essentially cull weak magicians. that they're holding back society. that theyre better off as powerless as Normals - who are blatantly seen as subhuman - than as weak mages. much like how ableist rhetoric puts forward that disability is a fate worse than death.

which brings us back to simon. he insists hes a Normal, now or always has been. baz insists hes the most powerful magician to exist. both of them are wrong.

and right. and right and wrong.

simon is some third thing - not a mage, not a Normal. akin to how disability is its own minority aside from race or ethnicity he has a foot in each world, and he always has. but now he cant achieve blending into either.

this is why the increasing presence and humanization of other magical beings beside mages is so important (thank you shephard!) how mages tend to seem magical beings is very ableist. theyre subhuman, theyre not to be trusted, theyre freaks, theyre dirty, etc. except oops, how can you keep thinking that penny, when this very nice one works at a cafe and helped you translate shephard's engagement terms?

even baz and the events of wayward son play into this - yeah, some vampires are horrible people. but plenty, like baz, are just people. with a range of experiences and morals and ways of living life. (take nicodemus) (i could make a point about how simon's stalwart acceptance of baz's vampirism helps baz comes to terms with it and how this is also super disability coded, but thats another essay)

in the beginning of awtwb, he decides to go to the extreme opposite of his chosen one powered life - to live as a Normal, and the second step (after cutting himself off from baz and penny) is getting his wings removed.

except he cant do it. and even having his wings touched is horribly uncomfortable. now, this partly has to do with how much theyre sensual parts of his body - same as his tail. but its also, separately, very intimate. theyre treated very clinically, like a fascinating specimen to pore over. im not trying to give niamh shit here, just saying what i saw.

but theyre part of him. people with disabilities often deal with being stared at and poked and prodded by the medical field (if theyre not ignored or waved off. maybe both.). even every day folks feel the right to touch disabled folks, or their mobility aids.

for a lot of people, mobility aids are a part of them - its like a stranger touching your face and thinking theyre doing you a favor. when instead theyre being weird as fuck.

simon's status as previous chosen one even plays into this sort of thing - people see him more as a figurehead, for what he can and cant do (including his wings!) than a person. hes a tragedy, hes a hero. hes inspirational, hes to be pitied. sound familiar?

the end of awtwb doesnt spell out whether simon ends up deciding to keep his wings (frustratingly). but they spell out that he would absolutely would, in my opinion.

simon increasingly treats them as a natural extension of his body. think of the scene where he flies about the watford goats. how he expresses his feelings with his wings and tail. and of course, how he learns to let baz loves each and every part of him: including his dragon limbs.

baz loves him, and loves them, not in a fetishistic way, but because its simon, and he loves everything simon is. not just what he represents or can or cant do.

#carry on #wayward son #any way the wind blows #simon snow #simon snow trilogy #baz pitch #awtwb #snowbaz #its there man okay its about disabled love. disabled4disabled #corvi caws #DO YOU SEE MY VISION? DO YOU SEE IT?????? #theres probably more i wrote this in one sitting #also a disclaimer: i am not physically disabled. if ive said something thats a big nono please let me know and i will edit or delete - #accordingly. and by that i mean if a /disabled person/ tells me i said something inappropriate #also im not saying this was rainbow's intention. i have no idea if it was. itd be kinda wild if it /wasnt/ to any extent tho #im aware its like. iffy to say nonhuman creatures are an allegory for disability #it definitely IS iffy #which is why im not sure if rainbow meant it that way. or should have done that #but it does read like that #and rainbow drives home that theyre ALSO people #so like idk. its complicated #regardless simon is disabled ill die on that hill #im shocked no one else has written this essay btw #maybe someone has but i didnt find it #IF someone has link it to me i want to put it in my mouth

[malleux]

freedom. | prologue

[main page] | [t.o.c] | [spellbook] | [ >> ]

young adult!atreus x reader

-> synopsis: The only times you had ever experienced adventure was through your books. It was hard to live an exciting life while trapped in Alfheim.

You know you're meant for something greater than wasting away underground.

[loosely based on the events of Gow: Ragnarok]

-> chapter warnings: all chapters may contain spoilers, slight violence, cursing

"Y/N, it's late."

A grumbly voice comes from outside your door. Dim red light illuminates your room— Twilight Stone that you had taken and set on your bedside table. The knob shakes and you quickly stash the book you were reading beneath your pillow, laying down.

Your father opens the door and raises an eyebrow at you. "Why are you not sleeping?"

"Just can't." You shrug from under the thin blankets.

"Does it have anything to do with those books we keep telling you to stay away from?" He crosses the room and sits on the side of your bed. You move your legs to make room.

"No, of course not." Your grip on the pillow tightens slightly, going unnoticed by your father. "I just stay up thinking."

He stayed silent— a cue for you to continue.

"It's just— I'm sure Alfheim is a great home. But not for me. I need to be out there, finding my place—"

"Y/N," Your father cut you off, "We've talked about this. You need to stay here, safe. Because—"

"Because I don't look like everyone else, it's okay. I get it." You rolled back, facing the rocky ceiling of the cavern you called a room.

You couldn't help but curse your circumstances at times. Your father, a Dark Elf, and your mother, a mortal. Your mother passed while having you, leaving your father to take you in and stay in Alfheim.

The Dark Elves already disliked you because you took after your mom, looking purely human despite having the same powers as them. They shunned you, and your father forced you underground to stay. Away from their prying eyes and judgement.

As if your situation couldn't have gotten any worse, once the Light Elves began to attack, the Dark Elves hid underground. The same underground that you used as your safe place. This meant that you had to further shrink yourself— away from them, staying inside your room all day instead of exploring the caverns and caves of Alfheim like you used to. They were all inhabited now.

"These books, Father, they talk about all the Nine Realms. Realms that would accept and love me. Shit, there's even books about different worlds entirely that I could try to go to— they're called Egypt, or— or Greece! Or Rome—"

"Enough! Y/N, there is a war going on here. I'm already swamped with protecting our land, so the least you can do is quit with this nonsense and just accept your fate. Groa's prophecies have proven that the safest place for you to be is here."

"That's bullshit-"

"Language."

"You mean I'm meant to spend my entire life trapped in this room? You'd think as my dad you'd want more for me and my life—"

“You have everything you could need right here.” Your father interrupted. “Food, shelter, protection. Hel, you even have the potential for a lovely husband. I bet a marriage would quell some negativity with the other Elves.”

“I don’t want a husband.” You huffed, “I want to get out of this Gods-forsaken room and live my life!”

"This conversation is over." Your father's wings flitted in frustration and he took a deep breath, pressing his lips into a tight line. "Goodnight."

He patted your leg and made his way out of your room, slamming the door and locking it extra loud just to drive the point home that you couldn't leave.

A few minutes pass and a smaller, quieter knock appears on your door. You wait a few minutes, biting back the wide grin that threatens to show across your face, before eventually throwing your blankets off and opening the door. Before you sat a stack of books— maybe four of five of them. You laughed slightly.

Fritjof.

Fritjof was your childhood friend— the “potential husband” your father continuously mentioned. He'd snuck around when the Elves first fled underground and eventually came across your room. From then on, he'd quietly visit and leave you books he'd collected. Nords knows how he gets them.

You were grateful. At least someone wanted you to cure your boredom.

You grabbed the books and locked your door back, shuffling through them to find your next read.

'The Art of Old Magic, no, Rare Fighting Spells, maybe later, Escape Magic— what?'

This book, Escape Magic, caught your attention.  You placed it on your bed and hid the others underneath a pile of cloths, where you kept the rest of your stash.

Content, you snuggled back into your bed and opened the new book, determined to finish it before your father returned in the morning.

———

You had undoubtedly finished the book before the morning, and yet the next day after your father had said his goodnight, you opened it again.

Sitting cross-legged on the floor, you opened the cover to the table of contents and looked for specific spells you had marked.

The first spell seemed easy enough— you thought, at least. The only magic you knew were basics taught to all Dark Elves, and some fighting spells. Your father insisted you knew how to protect yourself, should the Elves ever decide they were done housing you.

Squinting to read under the light of the Twilight Stone, you lifted your hand towards a chair in the corner of your room.

"Kippa."

The chair enveloped in a white light that connected to your hand. You cocked your head to the side, curious. You lifted your pointer finger, making the small rope of light that connected you and the chair move. In return, the chair lifted off the ground weightlessly.

Your eyes brightened— you did it!

Flicking your hand once more, you moved the chair to the other side of the room and set it down.

'Okay, one spell down. Now how do I get this chair off of me?'

You tried closing your fist— maybe to cut off the connection, but nothing worked. You flicked your wrist to the side, trying to shake it off, but the chair followed, slamming into the walls and ceiling. You cringed, and hoped nobody heard.

"Uh..." You quickly flipped through the book, "Létta?"

It was like a switch flipped, a suddenly the chair dropped to the ground, the light dissipating from it and your hand.

"Okay, next one." You mumbled. If the next spell worked, you'd be one step closer to getting out and exploring the world. Your heart raced with anxiety. "Hverfa."

Light once again danced across your vision and once it settled, you stood. You made your way across the room to a small mirror on your table. Just like you'd hoped— no reflection.

Looking down towards your hands and feet, you saw nothing but the floor beneath you.

It worked.

"Yfir-brag."

More light. E/c eyes stared back at you in the mirror. You were back.

Just in time, as well.

A soft knock echoed across your room, and you heard the lock jingle. You quickly hid everything, choosing to sit in front of your mirror and act like you were popping a pimple or just inspecting your face.

"Y/N?"

Your shoulders relaxed immediately at the sound of your best friend's voice. "Fritjof."

You stood up and gave the young Dark Elf a hug. He returned it, moving his head to the side slightly to avoid his horns knocking into your head.

"How have you been? I'm sorry it's been a while— King Svartáljǫfurr has been taking training super seriously."

You shrugged, "Same as always. Sick of this place. Have you gotten to read that book I recommended you?"

"Not yet." Fritjof sighed, "But listen to this, the Light Elves have learned to fully harness the Light of Alfheim. I know we're fighting against them and all, but isn't that cool? It just looks like they’re trying to make life easier for us.”

"Having some sympathy for the enemy, Fritjof?" You quirked an eyebrow, "Svartáljǫfurr would pin your wings to the wall if he heard that."

"That's why I'm telling you and not anyone else." He laughed, "Anyone else could tell on me. You—"

"I can't, I get it." You rolled your eyes and plopped onto your bed, hard enough to make the blankets and pillows shift a bit.

"Y/N, that's not what I meant." Fritjof walked closer to you, sitting next to you on the edge of the bed. Your eyes cut to the pillow, where Escape Magic's corner stuck out from under.

"It's okay, I understand what you did mean." You shrugged again, trying to shift your hand back towards the pillow.

“No, not at all.” Fritjof fiddled with his clawed hands for a moment, unaware of your movements. “Another thing. There’s actually something I’ve been meaning to tell you, Y/N. Since I’ve met you, I’ve just had this feeling—“

Not meaning to ignore him, you tried to catch the corner of the pillowcase and tugged, but couldn't. Cursing in your head, you realized that Fritjof was sitting on the pillow, unknowingly making you unable to hide it.

"—and I just can’t ignore it any longer. I— Y/N, what are you doing—" Said elf turned around and caught sight of your fingers wrapped around the cloth pillow case, then followed your gaze to the red corner of the book.

He grabbed it.

"Frit, give it back!" You jumped up, but Fritjof was quicker. He flew up above you, taking advantage of your lack of wings, and held the book in front of him.

"Escape Magic?" He inspected the pages, "Why would you need this? Are you trying to escape?"

"Shhhh!" You peered towards the door, praying that nobody heard. "Don't say such things out loud! You gave me this book anyways. It was in the stack."

"As if I look at the stuff I get you." Fritjof rolled his eyes. "I just grab things and go. Now I guess I should've checked."

"No, this is great!" You argued, "This is what I've been needing—"

"Y/N, this is the worst idea ever." Fritjof shook his head, "What if you get caught? You'll be killed. If not by the Light Elves, then by your father. You need to stay here— stay with me.”

"I've learned spells that will keep me safe! I just have to find a way to get to The Realm Between Realms, and then I'll be free to go wherever I want. And do whatever I want. Frit, you know that's my dream."

"Sometimes dreams need to stay in our sleep, Y/N." Fritjof looked at you worriedly, "You're here for your own safety. You know that. I can't let you just go out and kill yourself. You have no idea what the outside world is like."

"I would if I was allowed to!" You argued, "I'm leaving, whether you like it or not. I can't do this for the rest of my life."

"Then tell that to your father and Svartáljǫfurr. They need to know." Fritjof left your room, slamming it shut and taking your book with him. You knew you'd have to act fast.

Quickly, you grabbed a bag from under your bed and began to fill it with your things. A hair brush, a dagger, snacks that Fritjof had snuck to you and stored in your room. You took a look at the books in your inventory as well, deciding to grab a few spell ones.

Rare Fighting Spells, Summoning, Runes and How to Use Them, Basic Magic. Everything a young lady may need to brave the outdoors.

Lastly was the Dark Elf spear that sat in your closet, untouched. Your father had given it to you when training you, but you hadn't touched it since training stopped.

Securing the bag and spear on your back, you grabbed the knob. Locked.

Lucky for you, Dark Elf magic didn't require speaking any Nordic spells. You grabbed the spear and blasted the door open, suddenly hearing shouts as the explosion was heard.

"Shit." You whispered, "Hverfa."

You checked your hands and feet to make sure you were invisible. You were proud, but celebration had to come at another time. Slipping past the Dark Elf Warriors who were coming to find you, you headed into the heart of the underground city the Dark Elves lived in.

First phase of the plan, complete. What plan? You didn't know either.

Second phase: find a way to get to the Realm Between Realms.

You remembered your father telling you that connections between realms had been severed during the start of Fimbulwinter. There was a Mystic Gateway to the Realm Between Realms in the city, but it was impossible to open.

You searched around for it, and eventually a dim blue light across the main chasm of the cave caught your eye. Everything else in Alfheim was red for Dark Elves, so you knew this had to be something different. You began your trek.

The faint light was only a little brighter as you came upon a broken pile of rocks and debris— what used to be the gateway to the Realm Between Realms. A siren sounded in the background, and you knew it was for you. You had to act fast.

Desperately, you piled up the stones and pulled out a book, flipping through the pages and praying that something would help.

Nothing.

Another book— none.

"Please, help," You whispered, opening the third book. "Opna? Hníga?"

You tried every word for "open" that you knew in Norse, but nothing worked. You sat back on your heels. You couldn't stay invisible forever— who knew if this spell had a time limit?

Tears clouded your eyes as you thought about the prospect of being stuck in Alfheim forever, now with both sides of the Elves being against you.

“Please help.”

Suddenly, a warmth began to make its way across your face. You furrowed your brows and wiped a few stray tears from your cheeks, watching the stones of the door began to tremble and shake. They seemed to lift up by themselves, glowing brighter as they created an opening shrouded in white light. You stood up in awe, backing away when it began to slowly open.

"You said you heard it from this one? You sure?" A deep, gruffly voice resounded from the other side. "I don't see shit."

"Yes, I swear I did."

The portal dimmed a bit to reveal two very small men. They peeked in, and you took your chance, slipping past them and into the Realm Between Realms.

"Well, I suppose not, then." The skinnier man sighed and turned away as the blue man closed the gateway. "I could've sworn I heard someone calling out—"

"That was me!”

[ >> ]

#lay speaks #writing #fic blog #x reader #fanfiction #lay writes #series #god of war #god of war kratos #god of war ragnarok #god of war ragnarok spoilers #god of war atreus #god of war atreus x reader #god of war x reader #older atreus x reader #atreus x reader #atreus #kratos #kratos x reader #gow kratos #gow atreus #god of war fanfiction #god of war ragnarok fanfiction

[mamawasatesttube]

okay, i'm going to spam today. mmm damian, jon (as he is in OUR minds), aaaaaaaand. lois.

hell YEAH lets go!! damian first:

Headcanon A:  realistic

he goes to veterinary school. something something not either of his parent's legacies but something of his own that still feels like it's honoring them in its own way (medicine-adjacent. hands to help heal rather than harm. you get it)

Headcanon B: while it may not be realistic it is hilarious

he pretends not to know english that well in order to make jon explain the "deez nuts" joke he just made. jon is mad about it because he KNOWS damian knows english perfectly well enough to get deez nutted, but damian refuses to drop the pretense until jon glares at him and explains the joke. damian thinks he's hilarious. and he is.

Headcanon C: heart-crushing and awful, but fun to inflict on friends

man this isn't even hc really but do you ever think about the way he is just a little guy who never wants to hurt anyone or anything but he was born into a cycle of violence he never asked for. before he was ever old enough to understand it, there was blood on his hands. it's a guilt he'll always carry. i think he and cass should bond over this btw

Headcanon D: unrealistic, but I will disregard canon about it because I reject canon reality and substitute my own.

i dont know what the fuck canon is doing over there at this point but its important to me that he and talia love each other. there can be complexity and nuance to it but he loves his mom. dc shut up and listen okay they love each other!!!!

and now jon (as he SHOULD be):

Headcanon A:  realistic

he grows up with two central struggles: a) the classic mixed kid agonies, and b) the fact that he lives with immense pressure between both of his parents legacies that he can't escape. as a hero, he's superman's son. as a civilian, he's lois lane's son. everyone compares him to his parents, and so does he.

Headcanon B: while it may not be realistic it is hilarious

his puppy eyes are so strong he's literally charmed the shirt off kon's back before. ("hey, kon, i'm packing for that camping trip with my friends this weekend, can i borrow your red--oh... you're wearing it. okay... never mind... 🥺👉👈 unless? 🥺🥺🥺") (kon, actively pulling off his shirt: "YOU ARE A HORRIBLE LITTLE MANIPULATIVE GREMLIN AND I HOPE YOU KNOW THAT.")

Headcanon C: heart-crushing and awful, but fun to inflict on friends

well now im just thinking of that time you were like haha what if i write a fic where lex luthor kills jon in front of kon. i don't think i can top that. you motherfucker.

Headcanon D: unrealistic, but I will disregard canon about it because I reject canon reality and substitute my own.

no age-up bullshit. instead he exists in our beautiful postcrisis mishmash sandbox. he's like 4 when kon hatches (unless he isn't because timelines? what are those <3) and he is simply kon's beautiful little baby brother who has him wrapped around his little finger from day one.

AND NOW LOIS!!!

Headcanon A:  realistic

she's the breadwinner for the family. clark works from home/is a stay-at-home dad while jon is little. they have to figure it out a bit whenever superman is needed, but they make it work.

Headcanon B: while it may not be realistic it is hilarious

the first time she visited the kent farm, she stepped in a cow patty and clark laughed his ass off at her, so lois took off the shit-covered shoe and threw it at him.

Headcanon C: heart-crushing and awful, but fun to inflict on friends

having to take care of baby jon during the month clark was dead/"dead" while watching everything go down in reign of the supermen is probably what she would say is the hardest thing she's ever had to do.

Headcanon D: unrealistic, but I will disregard canon about it because I reject canon reality and substitute my own.

i need her to take tim under her wing for a little while. she sees in him a kindred spirit: a do-gooder, incredibly nosy little fuck. she can enable all of his snooping and sneaky tendencies. she'll ruffle his hair and generally regard him like a weird kitten kon found in the gutter one day and brought home. they go on at least one (mis)adventure.

#answers #loisinherlane #damian #jon #lois

[v-cain]

"You'll Have A Family"

Request: OOH X-MEN?? How about a shy gn!teen reader meeting characters of your choice for the first time and they’re all really supportive and nice :) Sorry if that’s kinda weird 😭😭 No worries if not!!

Fandom: Xmen

Mutation Explanation: Dude, imagine toothless except he's a human. R hides their wings and tail with a cloak because they dont like showing them off.

Pairings: (all platonic) Charles Xavier x gn!teen!reader, Logan Howlett x gn!teen!reader, Kurt Wagner x gn!teen!reader

A/N: what? no this wasn't requested in august wdym *sweats nervously* hope you enjoy @book-place !!! <333 (please ignore anything that doesn't make sense, not feeling the best recently so i get a pass on bullshit)

----

You walk up to the gate, hugging your cape closer to your body. The sign on the gate read 'Xavier's School For Gifted Youngsters'. Recently, your family had contacted the headmaster of the school asking if they could enrol you as soon as possible. The school had agreed, and your family had sent you off the next week- they weren't very fond of your mutation.

As you approach the front door, you can't help but overthink all the possibilities of what could happen. What if everyone hates you? What if they turn you away?Where would you go? Why couldn't you be normal-

Before you know it, you're standing in front of the door. You raise your hand to knock, and...stand there for ten minutes deciding whether or not to walk away and live in the woods for the rest of your life.

----

Inside, Charles was leaving his office as he was expecting the arrival of a new student soon. He was heading down to the common area when he heard some frantic thoughts coming behind the front door. He stopped and turned his attention to it. He moved towards the door and opened it to find the new student.

----

You blink and look down to see a man sitting in a wheelchair with a kind smile. "Hello! I'm Professor Charles Xavier, the headmaster of this school. Please, come in." You awkwardly shuffle in the door and close it behind you. Charles noticed that you have yet to take off your cloak, but he wouldn't push you to.

You look around the mansion, that you realize you'll be living in from now on. It reminded you of a tour you took in a castle when you were young-it was probably smaller than this place. Your attention is brought back to Charles as he explains that a student would be meeting you soon to take you on a tour around the mansion.

You nod slightly and rub the sleep out of your eyes, which reminds you of something your parents didn't tell the school. "Uh, sir?" He turns back to you with a small smile. "Yes? And Professor is just fine." You hum in return, and continue "I don't think my parents mentioned this to you, but I have a nocturnal sleeping pattern, so how would I attend classes?" Charles paused for a second, why wouldn't your parents mention this? Brushing the thought off, he responds "We can discuss this later in my office in more detail, but I'm sure we can work around it."

Just as he finished speaking, a teen showed up our of nowhere, scaring the shit out of you. You shriek and jump back, causing your wings to flair up in defence. The teen raised his hands up, "Uh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to scare you!" You stood back, wings still up, and took in his appearance. He had blue skin, blue hair, yellow eyes and a blue tail thatwas swishing around. He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt with a TV show logo you didn't recognise.

Slowly, your wings lowered back down but you were still nervous. The teen awkwardly glances at the Professor before holding his hand out to shake. "My name is Kurt. What's yours?" You hesitantly shake his hand, responding quietly "Y/N L/N..." He smiles at you, and then explains how he would be giving you the tour of the mansion. You nod and bid your goodbyes to the Professor, who smiles and returns to his office.

A few hours later, Kurt has shown you where classes are, bathrooms, bedrooms, the kitchen, the common area...and you are exhausted. All you wanted to do was flop down on your bed and sleep, but the universe had other plans. Right at the end of your tour, Kurt and you ran into some of Kurts friends. They introduced themselves as Scott, Jean and Jubilee. You nod at them but say nothing in response. You all stand there for a moment before Jean suggests everyone goes outside because it's a nice day outside.

"Um... I'm actually pretty tired after travelling all night... I think I'm gonna lie down for a while." You awkwardly smile. Jean smiles at you kindly and responds "Yeah, that's chill, have a good nap!" And with that, the group were off. You stand still for a moment and then head upstairs to the bedrooms. You get there, and finally fall asleep.

----

When you wake up, you find that you've slept through dinner. You shrug off your cloak and walk downstairs, your tail dragging on the ground. You always felt more relaxed during the night time- there wasn't anyone around to judge you, and you could look at the stars in peace and quiet.

You walk down to the kitchen without getting lost- total win- and rummage around in the cupboards for some food. One of the best parts of your mutation is the fact you can see perfectly well in the dark, so you've never had to use lights during the night.

You find a packet of your favourite chips, hopping up on the counter to eat them.

Lost in your own world, you failed to notice a new arrival in the kitchen.

----

Logan walked down the hallway in the mansion, with the intention of getting some beer from the kitchen. He walked in, and noticed someone sitting on the counter. They had yellow eyes- holy shit were they glowing?- black scaly wings and tail, and scattered scales across their arms, face and legs. They had claws for hands and feet, which looked scarily sharp. What caught his eye the most, though, was that clutched in their hands were his chips.

----

"Hey kid-" The stranger didn't get to finish his sentence because you, once again, got the shit scared out of you and fell off the counter. The man tried to come and help you up but your wings shot up protectively and a fireball started in your throat. The man steps back slowly and raises his hands up in defence, "Woah, kid, I'm not gonna hurt you. 'Was just gonna say you were eatin' my chips." You continue to stare at him for a moment, trying to determine if he was telling the truth. You backed down and picked up the chips, eating them again.

The man raises and eyebrow at you, "That's mine." You narrow your eyes at him and growl, to which he rolls his eyes and breaks the lock off a cabinet beside the sink. He reaches in and pulls out a can of beer. You peer at the cabinet, curious. He notices and thinks for a moment. "You want one?" Your eyes shoot up to him and you nod immediately. He chuckles and grabs one for you too.

You take it from him and open it with your claw. You raise it to him, and he returns the action. You both stay like this in silence for a while, till eventually he locks the cabinet again. "Night kid." he says as he walks to the door. "...Goodnight." he pauses to look back at you, before continuing on his way.

Sometime after you finish the beer and chips, you leave for the garden to stargaze. Today had been tiring, but all in all it wasn't half-bad. Maybe you'd even make some new friends! As you gaze, you wonder if maybe, just maybe, you'll have a family.

#xmen #charles xavier x gn!teen!reader #kurt wagner x gn!teen!reader #logan howlett x gn!teen!reader #charles xavier #logan howlett #kurt wagner #toothless #teen!reader #gn!reader #platonic #dragon!reader #toothless!reader

[kai-atlantis]

I'm late 😬 but I broke my ankle again so JUST PLEASE ACCEPT MY LATE ENTRIES OKI.

CW: grief, language

Artwork by @irunaki who graciously allowed me to borrow her work

FowlFest Day 2 - Diary Day

A Glimpse in Time

Holly ShOrt!!!

1953 

  HI DIARY!!! Today is MaY 3! It's my bIRTHDAY! I'M 32 today and at skool my class sang to me and gave me kandy! Escept for Riles Ross, cause he stole my space bar and ate iT in fronT of ME! >:( so i hit him in his face and all the kids laughed and Miss Persimmon sent me home. :( bUT I CAME HOME WITH CAKE! and its carrot. Mommy says it looks like our hair! :D cause we have orange hair! Daddy gave me a bow n arrow after cake and said I was a natural! Daddy is so strong he could hold me AND MY CAKE TOGETHER! :D then i got in trouble for hitting Riles Ross, but daddy told me later in secret that he was proud of me. :) 

  Anyway Diary, did you have a good day today? I sure hope so cause I did! I would share my cake with you but i dont wanna get cake on your pages :( sorry. BUT YOU CAN SLEEP WITH ME AND FOXY TONITE! we are having a secret sleep over under the bed. Foxy is so CUTEEE. sHH! Dont tell mommy or daddy. It's only for us :) 

  See ya there! 

Holly Short

1983

Today was fucking bullshit. It was so fucking stupid, I almost don't want to make an entry about it, but my therapist claims it's good for my grief to vent my feelings, so, here I am. Venting my fucking feelings. And no. I don't feel better.

So, you want to know why today sucked. Today was my second day at the Academy. The LEP Academy.

I've always known I was going to be an officer, but lately, I've been compelled to do something more than LEPtraffic, or Immigration. Yesterday was already weird enough because I got tons of looks from all the beefheads, but then today, in my Criminal Investigations class, the professor asked us what our goals in the LEP were. Anyone that knows anything knows girls who join the LEP are destined for traffic, or some bullshit area of "policing". We never go further than that… Unless you're Wing Commander Vinyáya. And nobody is as cool as Wing Commander Vinyáya. She's a total babe. Definitely not me.

But anyway, I have other aspirations. Dad was Internal Affairs. Mom's LEPmarine. It's my destiny to be in the force, and if I'm gonna go in, it's go big or go home. So, I answer that I want to be in Recon. And I shit you not - everyone laughed, even the professor. The FUCKING professor.

Fuck.

Why can't a girl be Recon? We're not all airheads. Some of us are actually capable of handling ourselves. Mom always says my aim is deadlier than a stink worm too, so those townies don't know what they've got coming.

Shit. Said, not says. Mom is dead. Stupid mistake.

Whatever.

The only plus side to today was that I ran into Trouble Kelp. He's the hot Kelp brother. An idiot, but he has a good heart. He's a junior, and super famous for his scores. Everyone knows who he is, so you'd expect him to be a total glow slug, right? But he's actually really kind. Some guy tried to trip me in the hall, and before I could punch the daylights outta him, Kelp shoved him into the trash can and swore him off. It was totally cool. He'd make a good partner someday, I think.

OH! Back to Recon. Adding onto today's bullshit, I overheard some rookies going on and on about Commander Root. Apparently he's a tough nut to crack and hasn't ever had a girl in his unit, and he intends for it to stay that way. Well, too bad for him, because I've got my sights on Recon. I work alone, and fly alone. Nobody to bother me, no stinky males and their gross ear cheese. Just me, the wind, and the surface sky.

It's what mom and dad would want.

I hope they're proud.

Oh yeah, one last thing: it's my birthday today. I'm 62 today. Is it super lame that I put up pictures of mom and dad on the table with me? Just so, you know… I'm not alone?

Fuck. Duh. That's super lame.

Hey. I'm back. Don't mind the weird gap between pages. Didn't feel like writing for a bit so I took a nap. But I'm back.

Honestly? I'm a bit mad. And before you ask me in the session: about everything?

Being a girl is hard enough, right? 'cause I'm stuck in this gnarly place of not being pretty enough yet also not being "tough" enough to be accepted by the guys. And I just started. Why should my appearance fucking matter? I'm a fucking hotshot. I'm resilient. I already know how to pilot a shuttle. That's more than these maggots can do.

My dad would've known what to say. I didn't know him that long, really. But still, when I'd spaz out and tussle with other kids, he'd always have my back, and he always knew the right things to say. I wish I had that now, you know? I miss him.

I miss mom. But I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to talk about her death and I won't be forced into it either, k?

Oh yeah, duh. My original point. It's my 62nd birthday, and I'm all alone. There's supposed to be some junior thing at a pub in the city. Juniors. Not rookies like these dorks. Mom would kill me if I went.

Hah. Guess I should rebel and go make some friends then? Maybe Trouble will be there? Not that I'm into him or anything. Just a friend or two would be nice.

Anyway. I've got basics in the morning.

Night, journal. See ya.

#fowlfest2023 #holly short #artemis fowl #oops im late but hey it's VIRGO SEASON #grief journal

[lynnlovesthestars]

Heyo love your works! I'm cool with sfw/nsfw for my match-up. My current tav (gotta love modded bg3) is a cambion (elf/incubus mix with wings that can kinda fold in/out like raphaels or mizoras) death domain cleric of Ilmater named Poenai (Greek name for the furies) whose around ~150 yo. I added a picture so i don't gotta try to describe how she looks but the back ponytail of her hair does go down to like mid-lower back. Before the events of BG3, she helped run a courtesan-style entertainment house in the lower city as a way to help those less fortunate make money/have a place to stay without having to resort to sex work if possible. She's very protective of those who are in her care (has definitely removed more than one noble's fingers). Her main act was singing with the stage name "The Crowned Tiefling" but also could be bought for "company" at a high price. She adores animals and has lots of patience but won't tolerate lying/bullshit (kinda mother hen-like). She likes to fly at night (can't do a whole lot of that in baldur's gate without someone freaking out) and enjoys reading or mixing up potions for the group. Will often hum while doing chores (to the teasing of Astarion asking if she really should be a bard). She does not do many prayers to Ilmater as she believes actions speak more than words, especially in worship of a god/goddess. She doesn't like cramped spaces and won't reveal that she's not just "a funny looking tiefling" straight out the gate cause most people aren't really chill with cambions. She will help out with cooking occasionally, especially if Gale's trying something "adventurous" (could burn the camp down or kill everyone with above-average senses of smells). Also has her tent filled with blankets for both comfort and warmth.

Hopefully that's enough to go off of, congrats on the 400 followers!

Fist of all i love her concept, she’s 1 so pretty and 2. i just love a protective woman. Initially i was going to say i can see her with Wyll, but then I thought of Gale, and my head exploded.

Gale is mesmerized as she start telling him of her job, of her community support, of the way she helps the less fortunate, but he's head over heels the moment he finds out she sings, he's going to ask with doe eyes to sing him a song while he's reading, resting or cooking.

He's very reluctant to admit it but he loves when she takes care of him, worries about his well being, and even defend him.

He's also very understanding, the moment she reveals her nature to him, he is so supportive.

Did I mention he literally declutters the whole tower to make sure shes comfortable? He sets up the equivalent of a blanket fort for her, pillows and blankets how she likes them, and whenever she comes over she can spot him already laying there with his book in hand.

"My love, I'm here" He calls from inside the fort cause Tara is already laying on his lap, and we all know it's a crime to move. "Come and rest, you have traveled far and wide to visit, it's time for you to lay next to me" He pats the blanket eagerly.

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #lynn 400 followers celebration #gale #gale dekarios x reader #gale x tav #bg3 x tav #400 followers party

[lostonehero]

Even more

New mech au

Better Mech chat (aka earth crew damn you Nastya)

Martin: Are you alright Marius you looked really uncomfortable today

Marius: Humans don't have living hair, and it shows.

Raphella: I can fix that.

Marius: no

Tim: what did it even feel like?

Marius: Remember when you burned your hands? The time we got Brian off the sun. It's kind of like that, but the pain doesn't go away. Elias is fine, he's really friendly, I think, but he's strict with the dress code. I really want a hat.

Jonny: I can't believe I feel bad for you.

Ivy: I rather be experimented on than have my nerves tugged on like that for hours. No that wasn't an offer

TS: The Other Jonny Is Werid. I Want To Be His Friend. He Does Not Like Me.

Brian: you offered to show him how your voice was stolen and he nearly fainted.

TS: We Had Fun.

Brian: honestly I think the job isn't bad suspicious as fuck, but none if the stuff really effects me or TS since we aren't human. I think whatever is going on is speciesest so Martin and Tim be careful.

Tim: Duly noted

Martin: that's worrying.

Jonny: I'll keep you safe.

Martin: you say that with such confidence purring in my lap.

Jonny: Martin please.

Raphella: I have more experiments to run, but I will come up with something for you, Martin.

Martin: Please be careful. Things down there are dangerous, and I don't want Elias to catch you.

Raphella: I will stay safe.

Ashes: I don't think I've ever seen her flustered before.

Jonny: bullshit

Marius: No, Ashes is right. I think Raphella just found the blanket you made her.

Martin: oh does she like it I wanted it to match her wings and scales. I'm trying to make one for all of you to match your non human stuff because it's really cool. Ah Tim I just about done with your sleep mask, are you sure you don't want a blanket I know your eyes bother you but everyone else is getting one.

Tim: the sleep mask is fine.

TS: I Get A Blanket?

Martin: yes! I'm making yours a flag that matches your uniform

TS: I Don't Understand This Feeling. I Won't Let Anyone Harm You Friend.

Jonny: huh

Tim: I'm going to bake you something.

Ashes: Can mine have flames?

Martin: I was gonna match your hair but I can fix it to be flames. Oh I can do raining ashes too like your name.

Ashes: I'm going to help Tim in the kitchen.

Jonny: Martin you're breaking them

Brian: you made me a crochet heart.

Martin: I know it doesn't match yours it's a human heart but uh I hope you liked it.

Brian: Martin I would kill for you.

Several people are typing.

.......

Marius knocks softly before hearing Elias to let him in. He stops seeing a taller, pale man made of muscle in a large coat. "Is this a bad time? I can come back."

Elias smiles from his desk. "No, not at all. Marius, this is my husband Peter Lukas his family are major donors to the institute. Peter, this is my new assistant I've been telling you about."

Peter nods and looks the man up and down. "Tall." His voice was soft, and it surprised Marius. "He has a fake arm."

Elias rolls his eyes. "Peter." He sighs and pinches his brow. "I apologize for him. He's a sea captain he just got back from a long voyage."

"Early." Peter huffs.

Marius smiles. "It's quite alright. I know it's a bit off-putting." He rubs his eyes, feeling an odd burning but dismisses it. He must have earth allergies. "It's lovely to meet you. Do you need me to do anything?"

"Yes, there are tunnels under the institute, I will show you. It's quite the hassle, but there is a library under there, and I will need extra hands grabbing a few books." Elias smiles as Marius nods.

#new mech tma au #tma podcast #the magnus archives #the mechanisms #the mechs

[spitefulbull]

OC in 15

Thanks for the tags, @sarandipitywrites and @cowboybrunch

Rules: Share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture the character/personality/vibe of the OC. Bonus points for just using the dialogue without other details about the scene, but you’re free to include those as well!

Soooo, reason I haven't done these til now is cause I don't have much in the way of dialogue since my WIP barely has one chapter in the rough draft so I'm gonna wing it with quotes I feel like they might say further down the line might even use some incorrect quotes please don't yell at me

I'm gonna do Ember this time, since I did Kris last time. Ember is the leader of the team, and overall The Mom Who Desperately Needs To Sleep™️

"Last thing I need is any of you missing the debrief in the morning, or worse, showing up with a hangover."

"Gods, that ale was horrible... Where are the wineskins?"

"It was a simple misunderstanding which was swiftly and violently resolved without further incident."

"Bo, stop encouraging Fen; Fen, stop provoking Kris; Kris, don't kill Fen; Evie... Don't die."

"May the gods have mercy on you, because Kris sure as hell won't."

"I didn't have time to heal, I had to keep moving."

"I once thought that giving it my all would be enough... Until I gave everything and it wasn't enough."

"If I wanted to deal with bullshit, I would've crawled back to my father."

"I was raised by narcissists, try again."

"Evie, cover your ears... EX-FUCKING-SCUSE ME?!"

"Wait, where the hell is Fen?" *explosion in the distance*

"Your not-so-subtle eye-fucking gave it away."

"It's not that I care about the legality, I just don't want to talk about it in my report."

"Fen, if Kris punches you, I'm not stopping her."

"Yes, we all knew, and if you don't keep your voice down, everyone else will know too."

Leaving this as an open tag for anyone who wants to join <3

#writeblr #writing #writers on tumblr #creative writing #writers #writer #writing community #writerscommunity #writer tag #open tag #tagging game #tag games #tag game

[burningchandelier]

How to be Punk; A History

My very talented and wonderful nibling has a birthday coming up and is, perhaps, doing a bit of soulsearching. With that, they wrote to ask me "how to be punk" and I wrote this back. It is longer than they probably bargained for, but anything less would have been a disservice. Please enjoy.

The most important thing about Punk is that it is a frame of mind. A person can be the most teeshirt-and-jeans-wearing, "normal"-looking person on the planet, but if they are devoted to justice for the underdog, anticapitalism, antiracism, feminism, queer rights, and genuinely making the world a better place through action and resistance, then that person is punk as hell.

Punk is about resisting authority, first and foremost. It is about taking labels that are used to hurt us and reclaiming them, turning them into our armor. It is about making your own impact in the world in the way that suits you best, and yes, of course, to a degree it is about fashion and music.

The best way to know where you are going is to know where you have been. You have to understand the history, at least a little, in order to know why things are the way they are.

With that in mind, here is a summary of the past fifty years of Punk. I hope I do okay.

The very word "Punk" itself used to be a slur used against effeminate men perceived to be gay. Back in the early 1970s, a bunch of dudes in England got called punks for wearing tight clothes with lots of safety pins. They turned around and said "Yeah, I am a punk. What are you going to do about it?"

This caught on incredibly fast.

Originally, the punk scene-- that of the early 70s, was a response to the commercialization of Rock and Roll, which had become pretty hack and overproduced, and to Disco, which was just taking off and was not appealing to everyone (I'll get into that another day).

Early punk (Sometimes called "Proto-punk" by people who want to sound like they know a lot, but it's pretentious) is a lot more accessible than people expect it to be!

Check out Iggy Pop and the Stooges, The Velvet Underground, and the New York Dolls for a taste of this era.

But WHAT ABOUT THE SEX PISTOLS!?

Okay. So here's the thing. The sex pistols are garbage. Yes, you have got to listen to Anarchy in the UK and God Save the Queen in order to know anything about anything when it comes to punk, but they were essentially an advertisement for a clothing shop, so they were automatically shills.

The important thing is that they created the Punk Aesthetic that we still know and love. Johnny Rotten was and still is a right-wing piece of shit. Sid Vicious was a garbage human. They wore clothes and made one good album, but I'm willing to admit that they did matter.

So then what happened?

Well, let me introduce you to Joey, Johnny, Dee dee, and Tommy.

The Ramones are where Punk took off and it took off like a bat outta hell.

You still see Ramones logos everywhere and that's for a good reason. It's because they rock. In this era, you also got Black Flag, The Misfits, The Dead Kennedys, The Damned, the list goes on and on (and it's awesome).

The 80s were a tumultuous time, politically and Punk got harder, more intense, more guitar-driven, and the bands had figured out that all you needed to make some incredible music was 4 chords and a message.

Sometimes, that message was awesome. Sometimes that message was total bullshit. Sometimes that message wasn't really a message as much as it was "I want to wreck stuff" but that's still kind of a message, isn't it?

It is worth noting that during this time, Punk was fighting for it's identity and a lot of that fighting included issues of race and gender-- some bands were total fascists and some bands were all about making fun of them. So you have to kind of understand that in order to get what was going on.

This is part of why fashion is SO important in the punk scene. Everything, everything, everything, down to the color of your shoelaces used to mean something specific. A bandana in your pocket could mean how you liked to have sex (and if you were Queer). Your boots could signal if you were a Nazi. Sometimes it wasn't a big deal, but sometimes it was important.

Wait. Nazi Punks?

Oh yeah, honey. There were a lot of Nazi punks in the scene, especially back in the 80s and 90s. That's the whole reason for the song "Nazi Punks Fuck Off."

We had to fight really hard, and continue to fight hard, to keep them out. They have no business in our spaces and in our music.

This sounds bad. I'm not sure if I want to be punk.

That's fair, but here's the thing. Being punk is so so so incredibly worth it (remember that part at the beginning about being anti-authority?) The community and the music and the beliefs are why we do it.

To be fair, if you've made it this far, you're probably in too deep already. Good for you! Keep going!

Okay, so then what happened after the 80s? Well, I know you can count, so you know what's coming next.

Punk took a backseat in the 90s. Grunge happened and Punk became kind of passe. The diehards were out there, slugging it out as always, but things had calmed down. In the West, politics weren't as dire, things seemed kind of hopeful. Punk was still important, but it wasn't what people needed.

That said, there was a rise in more pop-punk sounds that are, let's face it, fucking delightful. This is where we get Greenday, as well as a slew of bands that came into their own a little later on.

This was also the time of Riot Grrrl music, which I will happily tell you all about another time, but for now, we can say that it was the incredibly necessary, fantastic response to the "boys only" sign that alternative music, especially punk, had been hanging for years.

It is also worth noting that Punk, just like most art, is full of hypocrites who don't see their own blind spots. This doesn't make people bad, it just makes them people.

Punk has a long, crappy tradition of ignoring the contributions of women/people perceived as women and people of color even though it would not exist without those individuals.

It is getting much better, but god damn, it has taken a long time.

So then the 2000s happened and shit. went. nuts.

It doesn't really matter if you call it punk, pop-punk, emo, mall-goth, or anything else, but the alternative music scene of the 2000s went off like a bomb and there was no stopping it.

Like the 80s, the political landscape of the West was toxic to self expression, especially for young people who were suffering under the Bush Administration, the culture war against gay marriage, and the real-life wars that America had taken to the Middle East. Punk came back with a vengeance because the kids were not alright.

This punk, though? This punk was a different kind of fun.

This punk was the kind of punk where you were a lot less likely to get beat up and a lot more likely to get a sunburn at Warped Tour.

Making Punk accessible to more people with a broader appeal meant. for some, a watered down message, but for many others it meant being exposed to those messages at all. In my opinion, a net positive.

Did the DIY ethos of anticapitalism that bands like Thursday and My Chemical Romance, and even Fall Out Boy touted in their early days survive being brought to MTV? You have to be the judge of that. I am probably too biased to say, myself.

Into the future we go!

I believe that you need about 15-20 years to reflect on history with a proper degree of distance. It is too hard to pick out trends and important events when you're examining something that happened five to ten years ago, so I won't get into the 2010s or '20s yet.

Just remember that Punk has staying power and adaptability.

So. What makes a person punk? That's up to you.

#punk #punk history #emo #pop-punk