#We ought to to fucking know that by now. I don’t understand people who don’t.

[writeyouin]

Lucifer (Hazbin Hotel) X Fem-Reader - Sinless Sinners - Chapter 3

Chapter 3 - Learning To Get Along

A/N – So, a user on A03 suggested the snake servants’ new names. It was a stroke of genius on their behalf, and I can only thank them for it.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

MALE VERSION HERE

GN VERSION HERE

Tag-List: @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @sseleniaa @randomgurl2326  @22carolina08 @astrxwitch @yu-87 @clover-1767 @lil-bexie @thesimpybitch

Do you think you can manage that? Lucifer’s words hung in the air, creating an icy barrier between you.

So, Lucifer thought himself too good for low-life Sinners such as yourself. That wasn’t fair. Sinners might be in Hell for a reason, but sometimes such reasons were just fucking stupid. Heaven ought to base their entry requirements on a person’s character or strength of heart, not just their actions. You had met plenty of Sinners who were in Hell because of the most trivial shit.

There were those who liked to sleep around, but if sex positivity was a problem, then how did Heaven explain Angels like Adam, whom Charlie had told you about in excruciating detail. Lust shouldn’t have ever been considered a Sin, as long as all participants in any such carnal act were above age and consenting.

Then, there were a few murderers you knew. Granted, murder made the lines blurry, but some Sinners killed in self-defence, or only targeted others such as themselves, protecting the innocent in a very gruesome Dexter-like fashion. Were they really to be condemned? And who the fuck gave a damn about Sloth. So, some people were just bone idle, who gave a shit? Heaven apparently.

And now, the ruler of Hell was condemning those around him as well. He was supposed to care for his people, good or bad. Not to mention those who were solely created for or born in Hell, such as Imps, Hell-Hounds, or the Deadly Sins themselves; they hadn’t committed any crimes to get sent here originally – it was their home.

Your eyebrows furrowed, creating an annoyed crease along your forehead.

“No,” You told Lucifer, who stared at you incredulously.

No? Didn’t you understand the situation? He was Lucifer. King of Hell. He could destroy you with no effort spared, leaving no trace that you ever existed, and you were telling him no? He wasn’t an unreasonable guy, but how could you possibly think that being around him was a good idea? Did you respect Charlie more than you feared him? Granted, he didn’t go out much so few knew how powerful he was, but no other Sinner would dare deny him his wishes.

You saw the look he was giving you and decided to explain yourself.

“Look, I’m only here ‘cos Charlie thought it was a good idea, and if you genuinely hate me, I’ll go and you’ll never have to see me again, but you’re not even trying right now. You haven’t spoken to me. You don’t know anything about me, and frankly, I think Charlie’s right, you do need someone to talk to.”

“I don’t-” Lucifer started.

“You don’t even know why I’m down here,” You interrupted angrily, though you refrained from raising your voice. “And you don’t want to know, right? ‘Cos all of us filthy Sinners must be the same. Ooh, we squandered your gift of Free Will and now we deserve to suffer for eternity, do we? Grow up!”

Lucifer stared at you in astonishment, and you sighed, apparently not finished in your tirade, “I’m going to my room tonight, but tomorrow, I expect that you’ll at least try to tolerate me. Who knows? We might even find some common ground. We both love Charlie, don’t we?”

Lucifer didn’t know what to say to that. He certainly loved his daughter, more than anything else in the universe, but you? He still suspected that you had some kind of ulterior motive… everyone in Hell did. Yet, you had a point. He would do this for her, even if it meant he had to tolerate you.

Who were you, really?

He looked at you closely for the first time, trying to pick out some detail of who you might have been. It was even more disturbing than he previously thought. Before, he only saw a human. Now, he examined your clothes. There was little to say about the style, but your apparel was reminiscent of a Holy Animal. With the ruffled cuffs of your jacket, the way the back peaked to create the image of feathers, and the yellow ribbon that lined the white material, you looked like a dove.

Yet… Despite living in the Hazbin Hotel, Charlie had insisted that you didn’t seek redemption. Why go through the farce of dressing like an Angel then… unless? No, you couldn’t be. No Angel would dare stray from Heaven unless they were ordered to.

Lucifer held back a glower, trying to keep his emotions in check so you wouldn’t sense his thoughts. There was a possibility, though small that you had been sent by the likes of Adam to spy on Lucifer and his kin, ensuring that none of Charlie’s patrons ever found a way to the Pearly Gates.

Well, it wouldn’t take long to uncover your ruse. Lucifer had ways of telling an Angel from a Demon, and once you were asleep, he would know.

“Yeah,” Lucifer said evenly. “I love my Charlie.”

“So, you’ll try then.”

Lucifer nodded his head in consent.

“Okay, I’ll see you in the morning. Good night.”

The sentiment went unreturned as your King returned to his chambers, biding his time until you slept.

When you returned to your room, you got ready for bed. The day had been long and unusual. Honestly, you didn’t feel that you had a place in the manor, and you longed for your room in the Hotel, even if it was smaller, had a large stain on the carpet (which Nifty had named Vivienne) and an unruly infestation of roaches.

In the short time you had spent there, it had become home.

You would miss the arguing inhabitants, the energetic wake-up call from Charlie, the feeling of safety that Vaggie instilled, and the sound of Alastor’s morning and evening radio broadcasts. Yet, you hoped you might find something equally valuable in return if only Lucifer would open himself up to the possibility that you didn’t want anything from him.

After glancing out of your window, which had a balcony you could step out to if you so wished, you took in the whole of the Magne District which was the heart of Pentagram City. If you strained your eyes, you could just see the flashing neon of the Hazbin Hotel, and if you turned your gaze up… There was Heaven, out of reach yet always in sight, taunting most Sinners, yet emboldening a brave few who dared to wonder What If? What if they could change and gain admittance to a better life?

You sighed and dared not ponder further when you needed to get some sleep.

Throwing yourself on the plush bed, you got comfortable, arranging yourself how you liked, then leaning over to your bedside table, you blew out the cherry candle you had previously lit.

You rested your head atop the satin pillows, then frowned, feeling a lump beneath it. You reached under and pulled out a rubber duck, painted to look like a Hellhound-Duck hybrid. Assuming it was one of Charlie’s childhood toys, you placed it carefully atop the table; it would keep you company on your first night in a strange new place.

Lucifer waited till the late twilight hours before leaving his workshop. He transformed himself into a snake, slithering silently through the Hallways, ensuring that you wouldn’t hear him coming.

Before being cast out of Heaven, detecting an Angel would have been a simple task. He would just know, the way he now knew how to read a Demon. Yet, with you giving off little sign of Demonic energy, he now had to test if you were of Angelic origin. There were two ways he could do so. The first was by spilling your blood. Those who were born in or sent to Heaven had golden ichor instead of the oozing red or black goop of Hell-spawn and Sinners.

However, not wishing to alert you to his presence, Lucifer decided to opt for the other method.

Once he was inside your room and certain that you were in a deep slumber, he reverted to his original form, standing over you, his pupils turning to slits at the thought of a traitor in his house. If you were what he thought you to be, he would kill you immediately.

He pulled a small yellow twenty-sided stone from his pocket and baring his fangs in anger, he pressed it lightly against your skin.

Nothing happened.

Lucifer’s expression changed from one of deep-seated loathing to confusion. You weren’t from Heaven. If you were, the stone would have glowed a brilliant shade of Gold. Instead, it remained its original dull yellow.

Very well.

He would keep his word and… Tolerate you.

He left your room as quietly as he had entered it. Tomorrow, things would be different.

Lucifer didn’t sleep that night; the idea of change was terrifying.

The next morning, when Lucifer finally resigned himself to the fact that he was going to have to face you eventually, he headed downstairs, assuming that was where you were.

“JUST TRY IT!” He heard you yell. “TRY! OPEN YOUR MOUTH, DAMN IT!”

“Uh…” Was all he could think to say as he entered the kitchen and found you clinging to one of the snake cleaners he had created the previous night, in a rodeo-like fashion. The creature was trying to buck you off, with a somewhat derpy expression, probably stupidly assuming it was a game; Lucifer hadn’t bothered to instil them with much intelligence since he didn’t need them for anything more than cleaning.

“ARGH!” You grunted as you were dislodged from its back.

“What- What is this?” Lucifer asked, confused.

“Oh shit!” You cursed, embarrassed to have been caught in a less-than-dignified position. You attempted to regain a little composure by standing up, then held up a handful of wadded-up pancake.

“Do they eat?” You demanded, referring to the reptilian cleaners, “’Cos they’ve been in a picture frame their whole lives, and they must be hungry by now.”

Of all the stupid things you could have done, Lucifer couldn’t help but crack a smile, though he had the decency to hide his laugh behind a clenched fist and pass it off as a cough.

“They don’t need to.”

“Okay, but can they?”

“If they wanted to, I suppose so.”  

You glared at the mushed-up pancake, “I fucking knew it. Spick, Span, eat your fucking breakfast!”

“I’m sorry, who now?” Lucifer asked.

“Well, they clean, don’t they? Spick and Span seem to fit unless you have something better to name them.”

Lucifer chuckled, a half-short-lived chuckle, but one all the same. You were more chaotic than he expected.

“Fine, if you want them to eat, you’ve got to cook in style.”

He waved his hands energetically, his outfit transforming from his usual suit to one befitting a flashy Michelin Chef. He was comfortable in the role of an entertainer as he made a dazzling display of cooking up eggs. With the flash-bang of indoor fireworks, the island counter gained a conveyor belt to transport several dishes, all perfectly presentable and giving off a delectable aroma of herbs and spices.

Eggs-benedict, frittatas, and shakshuka shot by you, closely followed by a hungry Span, though his twin was busy writhing on the conveyer belt, trying to get to his feather duster, yet doomed to chase it since he didn’t think to travel in the opposite direction so it would meet him in the middle.

The sight was memorable to say the least, even when Spick knocked the food onto the floor and his brother was left stupidly sucking on the corner of the countertop where his seemingly new favourite dish had splattered.

You couldn’t help laughing.

“See?” You struggled to get the words out, “I knew they’d like food. I’m just a shite cook.”

Lucifer gazed at his dishes proudly, even though they were no longer fit for either of your consumption.

“Hah,” You said, feeling somewhat awkward now that the moment had passed and Lucifer’s gaze was upon you, trying to figure you out. “I’ll uh, clean this up.”

“No need, leave it to Flim and Flam,” Lucifer said nonchalantly.

“You know that’s not their names.”

“Whatever. So… we’ve met, there was breakfast with a show. We done for today?”

The smile fell from your face as you realised that all of this was just another of Lucifer’s acts. Granted, he might have actually had fun with it, but it was all just in the name of claiming he had tried to be around you, and just wanted to leave as soon as possible.

“I don’t know. I was going to go into the City if you wanted to come.”

“I can’t. I have… plans.”

Lucifer’s mood soured as he thought about visiting Heaven’s embassy to set up the meeting for Charlie. He hated everything about that building. The décor was just a cruel reminder of everything Heaven had banished him from. Moreover, while the Angels had to respect his power, they didn’t respect him; their cruel words and thinly veiled insults always cut him the deepest. Not to mention how bitter he was that the balance of power was uneven. Sure, Heaven had an embassy in Hell, but there was no such building in Heaven where Demons could work to arrange meetings between Angels and him.

It would always be Lucifer going to their building, on their terms, usually at their behest.

“Plans? So, you’re setting up Charlie’s meeting today?” You guessed astutely. “You know, I’m walking that way too.”

Lucifer guessed at your game. You probably hadn’t been going in that direction at all, but this was all in the name of ‘trying’. One way or another, he would have to learn to get along with you.

“Fine. Let’s go,” He said, flicking his hand back blasély, even though he found the idea of walking the streets of Hell daunting.

It would be better if he could teleport there, but at least, by the end of the day, you would have something positive to report back to Charlie.

#fanfiction #fanfic #reader insert #reader #female reader #lucifer morningstar #lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer hazbin hotel x reader #charlie morningstar #lucifer magne #lucifer magne x reader #hazbin hotel #hellaverse #sinless sinners #part 3 #chapter 3 #learning to get along

[chthonicarcher]

Hello!! I've been a fan of your art and writing for a while now, and I wanted you to know your works a big inspiration and comfort to me!! Anywho, thoughts on Davebot and Commander Vantas :]

first of all, wow, thank you so much!! that’s so kind <3

mkay so...

the thing is,

sigh. so. okay.

okay listen—

OKAY THE FIRST THING I GOTTA SAY, and I mean this ought to go *without* saying but I’m still just going to say it: this is all JUST MY OPINION!! it’s subjective, I’m not saying other people are wrong just bc we may happen to disagree about this!

TO BE HONEST WITH YOU, though, I only really engage with “beyond canon” or “dubious canon” or “post-canon” content in the way I’m doing right here, which is to say, drawing silly requests to dress up CKat as Hatsune Miku or whatever. or sometimes drawing something featuring meat or candy DaveKat specifically for my dear friend bug, who loves the epilogues and HS2, and still has a lot of hope for a happy DaveKat ending in *both* timelines. (love you bug, love your optimism, and I hope for your sake that HS2 doesn’t disappoint!)

because **MY** opinion of all that is that it sucks and shouldn’t exist, lol. sorry!! I hate its very existence! I ignore it and I mostly avoid it because it upsets me deeply, and I only engage (very shallowly) with the elements I can fully get behind, which usually means “cool outfits” or “cool designs.” Davebot looks real cool, man! that’s about all I can say about him without wanting to vomit!! his very existence makes me sad as fuck and I hate it, idk what else to tell you. I hate that even though that story goes out of its way to point out how non-canon it is, just by nature of being an officially sanctioned product it kinda IS canon, and the fans sure treat it that way, and I’m not even saying they’re wrong. if Hussie wanted the epilogues to actually be treated like fanfic maybe they shouldn’t’ve attached their name, man, idk.

anyway, I know drawing CKat and Davebot as just silly little guys without actually fully engaging with/reading post-canon sorta makes me part of “the problem,” like those “fans” of Homestuck who don’t understand it at all bc they HAVEN’T READ IT yet insist on making art about it that misunderstands the characters? but tbh I just don’t like or respect post-canon stuff in the same way I like and respect the original work. to me it is fanfic, and not even like a good one that I would bookmark or download a PDF of, lol. sorry if this disappoints you! I still think the designs are cool ✌️

#my art #homestuck #dave strider #davebot #karkat vantas #commander karkat #davekat #post-canon #asks

[heyheydidjaknow]

I haven’t played this stupid game in 6 months. This is a sequel to Prospects, this time featuring Bailey.

Agreement

The envelope shook in your hand. “This should suffice.”

Bailey took it from you, not bothering to meet your eyes as she slit the top and took the slip inside. Whitney, dressed for the ride ahead— or fight; whatever came first— in his sweats and t-shirt, stood with his back to the door. Despite your assurance, he had insisted on sitting in on this final transaction as if the mountain of cash you had worked yourself ragged to obtain would not be enough to settle the score, as if your being there were not dependent solely on your value as a worker, as if Bailey— who now looked up at you over the check between her fingers and her half-rimmed glasses— would care beyond that if you were gone.

The ground swayed beneath your feet.

Bailey leaned back in her chair, gesturing to Whitney with the check. “This was your idea?”

You could not bring yourself to look back at him, but you could imagine his expression. It was the same as when you had when you had met Briar and Avery a few days before; cool, unflinching, as though you were an item at a pawn shop he was trying to get a good price on. You supposed you were, in a sense. “Yes.”

Bailey nodded slowly, taking in your figure, your stance. You squirmed under her gaze. “And the child’s yours, I take it?”

“Yes.”

She considered as much. “You know,” she mused, “your… what would the word be? Fucktoy?”

He scoffed. “For our purposes, property.”

“Oh, hardly.” She leaned her elbows on the desk, fingers lacing together under her chin. “Not officially at least, not until our terms are settled.”

“What terms are there to settle?” You picked at your cuticles, heart pounding in your throat. “Is that not how much—“

“That’s how much my best earner was worth before.” Her smile was sweet like cough syrup, sharp like whiskey. “I’m a businesswoman you understand; it would hardly make much sense for me to part with my greatest revenue stream for its raw material costs.”

You looked back at Whitney. He kept his eyes trained on the woman in front of you. “And how much would it take for you to part ways with your charge?”

She sighed in mock contemplation. “Oh, I don’t know.” She sucked her teeth. “Another fifty percent ought to do it.”

The words echoed in your ears. You swallowed back panic as you went back to staring at the floor.

“Fifty?” His sneer was audible. “The fuck you take me for?”

“Someone desperate.” She gestured to you. “Someone willing to take when they can get and leave.”

“A bitch, you mean.”

“So long as we’re being frank.”

“You—“

“Do you know how much that child is worth?” You shut your eyes as you felt her own take you in. “Do you know what sort of market you could appeal to with a matching set?”

You heard a rustling of cloth behind you. Whitney’s voice was as cheerful and bright as you had ever heard it. “So long as we’re considering the lives of people that matter,” he smiled, “I’m curious; how much is your life worth?”

There was a pause, a laugh from Bailey. “That bitch,” she sighed. “First that file—“

“This actually isn’t Laundry’s, surprisingly enough.” You heard the clinking of metal parts as he gestured to you. “Friend of a friend who lives in the country; I promised him the deed to this shithole if your position found itself empty.”

Despite yourself, you turned to face him. He held the pistol in his hand with the confidence of a man unfazed by its weight. In the back of your mind, you wondered if he would be tried if he went through with it, whether the cops would come or care or whether they would write it off as the result of one of Bailey’s “ungrateful brats”. You could not for the life of you decide which would be preferable.

“So,” he continued, finger twitching, eyes shining, “I think it best if we tried renegotiating terms.” He gestured to you. “Either you take the money and I take your cash cow off your hands—“ He steadied his aim, “— or I redecorate your office with your insides and you get to find out whether the contents of that envelope are worth shit in hell.”

You cast your gaze back towards her. Bailey looked between the two of you, lips pursed. “You’re more desperate than I thought.” She pushed her glasses up her nose and reached into her shirt pocket. “Let me give you some advice, kid.”

You shut your eyes again at the click of the safety. “Hands where I can see ‘em.”

She pulled out a carton of cigarettes, tapping one out and sticking it between her lips. “He isn’t a better person than I am, you know.” She took a lighter off her desk. “He’s not going to take better care of you than I am, isn’t going to wish you off to some fairy tale land where you’ll never know hardship; if anything, he’s going to fuck you over harder than I do.” She lit it, took a drag, smiled, exhaled.

“You fucking—“

“And you.” She pointed the cigarette at him. “Whitney, yeah? You think your life’s going to get better by being a father?” She leaned her head on her free hand. “I’ve been stuck with this job for thirty years now; the only thing that thing—“ she waved the cigarette in your belly’s general direction, “— is good for is an accessory to the walking ATM it’s stuck in.”

You could hear his voice shake; with what, you could not tell. “So help me God if you say one more thing about my fucking kid—“

“Let me say my piece.” She stood up, taking another drag and blowing it in your face. “If I were you,” she sighed, “I’d see if Harper couldn’t make an exception to get that thing out of you while it’s not breathing. Short of that, I’d ship it here.” She leaned forward, resting her hand on the surface of her desk. “But if I ever find your brat at my doorstep,” she promised, voice lowering, “if I ever see you or that thing here again, I’ll make your time here look like a stay at the Ritz-fucking-Carlton.” She stuck the cigarette back between her teeth, tilting your head up to look her in the eye. The resemblance between her and Whitney was apparent; you wondered if that was just what the eyes of monsters looked like. “I will make your child pay for however much you would have made me twofold, and I will sell their body— whole or piecemeal— to any dumb fuck who asks for what I’m sure will be a pretty young thing like them. Do you understand me?”

You could not breathe.

Her grip on your jaw tightened. “Are you deaf?” She brought you closer, and you whimpered at the sensation. “I asked you a question. Do you understand me or don’t you?”

You shut your eyes as her nails dug into your skin. You dug your own into your palm as you forced yourself to nod.

She kept you there a moment— for what, you did not know— before pressing a kiss to your forehead. Your eyes shot open, and you swallowed back tears— of relief, of sadness, of panic— as she released you, collapsing to your knees and gasping for air. “Good.” She took the check, slipping it into her pocket before sitting back down. “Leave before I change my mind.”

You pulled yourself to your feet, practically tripping over yourself to cling to Whitney. He glanced down at you, letting you bury your face into his shoulder as he took one last look at your former guardian. Wordlessly, he pulled the two of you out into the hallway, past the children gathered by the door, past the garden and Robin and the stairs and the threshold and finally, with a smile of untempered relief and satisfaction, across the street, into the truck parked there, and away from that miserable town, and as you watched the buildings you had come to know as parts of your home flew past, as you watched people you recognized from school rush into the forest and students— like you, you registered vaguely, desperate for money, for purpose, for anything— lean against street corners, you wondered if this would be any better, if this was more desirable, if this was emancipation or a different, crueler kind of ownership.

You mumbled a goodbye to the bus stop as it passed. Only then did the tears really start.

#degrees of lewdity whitney #degrees of lewdity #dol x reader #dol whitney #dol #whitney x reader #whitney the bully #bailey the caretaker #tw pregnancy #tw death threats #tw violence #tw gun #tw gun mention #Whitney is a good father agenda #female Bailey #male whitney #gn reader #this is the plot of careless whispers I think #angst #lowkey

[nexility-sims]

𝐍𝐎. 𝟑   ❛ 𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 ❜   |   QUEEN'S OFFICE, MID MARCH 1991

❧  𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠  /  𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬  /  𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭.

   ❛  Beatriz, like her grandmother before her, lived by the belief that Uspana was her true firstborn. When her daughter’s mourning period concluded, she returned to work on its behalf. She was not a simple figurehead. Her job was not to pose for pictures, to fundraise money for good causes, to lift the spirits of the weary with a benevolent smile. She did the work of a statesman, and she did it well. She was a politician. On any given day, her attention divided in a thousand directions—domestic versus foreign affairs, diplomacy and economics, tempestuously petty interpersonal dynamics on which national matters of life and death too often depended. Staff abounded to keep it all in order, but Beatriz had always been a hands-on executive. She knew what skeletons lurked in the closets of allies and adversaries alike, and she knew the details of bills and proposals less careful eyes overlooked. She enjoyed sparring with representatives. She harangued her ministers for sport. It wasn’t ideology that drove her so much as the desire to win. More than merely dedicated, the queen thrived in the high-stakes, head-spinning world of governance. It was one in which her weaknesses were strengths. The people of Uspana knew her reputation, but most of them credited it with the long era of stability that she seemed to have held together, almost single-handedly, through sheer force of will.

❧ TAKE TWO FUCK TUMBLR i took the screenshots for this ages ago, and !!!!! i wish that i’d had the time and energy to redo it, but :/ fine enough to just post. i wish i could say beatriz gets better, but ... idk, man, this is just who she is, which sucks sdkfshj

𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭 ↓

TRANSCRIPT:

{Conversation}

[L] She canceled again, didn’t she?

[B] Not quite. It’s business as usual, is all. They’re taking a coffee break in a moment, so she’ll see you for a few minutes then. [L] {scoffs} Of course.

[B] Look at you. Such a tired trio.

[B] I’m glad to see your faces. These last several weeks have been difficult for everyone. Time to come together.

[B] That’s what I wanted to share with you. Everything is the same for us—well, except for you three. How can we have orphans in a family so large? That’s how you feel, I presume.

[B] You don’t know this, but he had all sorts of inquiries about Safya’s estate within mere days of … Well. Mourning is over, and there is a definitive, sweeping answer. An eviction, in fact. That was her home, and I intend to preserve it as such indefinitely.

[L] I don’t understand. What about Gil and Mateo? [B] You would understand if you let me finish, Leonor. Anyway, this is hardly your concern. You wanted to live alone.

[B] Boys, you will take up residence at Nakawe Palace. Damian and Julian are there, Arnaut’s pair will be around … You will be with me, with your grandfather—right where you ought to be. [G] Mother Beatriz, will Papa be there?

[B] These apartments are for those who belong to the Crown. You belong. Some others do not. [G] Can he visit? [M] We’ll still see him, Gil.

[B] Before you get any ideas: don’t mistake this for a discussion. I was just going to send a moving van to pick you up, but your grandfather was convinced that would be somehow cruel.

[B] Leonor, give me a moment. I have something to say.

[B] Why would you go out like this? They’ll notice. [L] Who will? [B] Come on now. The papers, obviously.

[B] You look awful. To start, go home and wash your hair. These things matter.

[B] They’re going to eat you alive. Do you hear me? They will because they can, and there’s little I can do about it. [L] {softly} They already are …

[B] Exactly. This is my one warning. Let’s not disappoint.

[M] Why didn’t you say anything? [L] Why didn’t you? [M] That’s not fair.

[L] Don’t call him. He should hear everything from her people. It’ll be easier for everyone that way.

[M] Easier? You know that’s not true.

[M] Wait—where are you going? We have plans!

[M] Leonor!

[delta-queerdrant]

where are your troubles now? forgotten? (Resistance, s2 e12)

(POV you’re watching the Barbie intro but it’s Star Trek screenwriters. Please indulge me.)

Once, in another century, there was a show called Star Trek Voyager. (Cue 2001: A Space Odyssey music.) A lady and two dudes created it. Occasionally other ladies cowrote episodes. But by the time Season Two rolled around, there were not so many ladies. Actually there was just Jeri Taylor, and by god she tried. But one lady cannot be all things to all people.

Then in November 1995, a great miracle happened. A new lady was hired to write a teleplay. It was fresh, inventive! Something was happening!

Her name was (music crescendos)

L I S A K L I N K

I don’t know much about Lisa Klink, except that “Resistance” marks the beginning of her multi-season involvement in Voyager, and that she was a five-time Jeopardy winner. (I do not watch Jeopardy, I would not be good at Jeopardy, but Jeopardy people are nevertheless my people.) Mostly I know that I turned on “Resistance” and, despite my general disinterest in the show’s production history, immediately asked: who the FUCK wrote this?

“Resistance” is not a perfect episode, but after half a season of flailing, it is a revelation. Klink, writing the script for a story by Michael Jan Friedman and Kevin J. Ryan, has a clear vision of what Voyager can be - a show that’s grounded, emotionally resonant, and trusts its actors. 

I am partial to the gritty, Blade Runner-inflected, Firefly/BSG brand of science fiction television, so when we started in media res, our heroes in civvies doing deals in an outdoor market, I died and went to cyberpunk heaven. (Neelix’s coat alone is worth the price of entry.) Instead of swanning across the galaxy like tourists in a slightly under-resourced cruise ship, the Voyager gang are finally the scrappy underdogs they ought to be.

This is our second Janeway episode of the season, and the first episode, perhaps of the series, that really gives her a character mandate beyond “strong but feminine captain who loves her dog.” Mulgrew has her work cut out for her, acting against JOEL FUCKING GREY, but they’re both marvelous. Waking in the home of the enigmatically batty Caylem (in a claustrophobic sequence whose stagey absurdism recalls a Beckett play), Janeway slowly grows to understand that Caylem, who’s decided she’s his daughter, might be her best ally for escape. The growing emotional connection between the two is so tender and understated; as a writer, Klink has mastered the light touch.

Janeway and Caylem end up collaborating with the local resistance movement to rescue Torres and Tuvok, who have been imprisoned by the lawful evil overlords of this world. Our characters genuinely feel like they are in big trouble! Torres and Tuvok’s prison stint is rough. (I did enjoy B’Elanna’s beatnik dissident prison garb. She looks like it is approximately 1956 and she is a French student who has been arrested for throwing a baguette at a cop.)

The only weak sequence is the prison break itself, which feels too easy and relies on a tired “sex worker disguise” subterfuge. But the ending is so satisfying and will break your heart.

Once Janeway’s back in uniform, it feels like we’ve truly been on a journey, one that brings to mind iconic episodes like “The Inner Light.” Voyager is a long way from home, and I want these characters to go through transformative experiences. The boldness of this episode gets us a little bit of the way there.

A radical reimagining of Voyager, and the best episode of season two in my estimation. I award this one 4.5/5 melon hats.

#star trek #star trek voyager #janeway #LISA KLINK #joel fucking grey!!!

[charmwasjess]

10, 14 and 20 for ask game!

For 10: Is there a fic that got a different response than you were expecting?

All of them?!?! I write mainly in Dooku's Jedi era (pre-prequels? are we still calling it that?) and that was a super tiny part of the fandom back when the movies were actively coming out. It didn't seem possible anyone would care about it now, so having any readers is like... fucking AMAZING! I love each and every one of you DEARLY.

I'll also say, responses to my fics where I'm writing Dooku and Sifo-Dyas together has been interesting. I definitely lost a reader or two, which makes me sad, but I was really surprised and incredibly touched by the much larger positive response to it. Having been a queer person in the closet for a lot of my younger life, writing queer experiences openly is really cool to me.

For 14: If you could see one of your fics adapted into a visual medium, such as comic or film, which fan fic would you pick?

Answered a little bit of this here and here. :D

For 20: What’s a favorite title for a fic you’ve written?

I admit, I really like Milk Run. For those of you who haven't read it, in the fic, a "Milk Run" is a Jedi slang term for an easy lowstakes mission where nothing exciting happens. Dooku is recovering from an injury and so desperate to get out of the Temple that he'll take any mission - so he and Qui-Gon are assigned a classic good ol' Milk Run. Of course, this is wonderful because Dooku knows how to handle the most dangerous missions the galaxy can throw at him, but not how to sit still, and it's fun to write him doing things he's bad at.

It also gave me a thematic chance to explore a topic I love: Jedi working nontraditional Jedi jobs. Jocasta and Sifo-Dyas lives as Jedi who both serve the Order in less traditional "run in with your lightsaber out" roles. Jocasta obviously in the Archives, and Sifo-Dyas currently supervising a group of graduate students at a Jedi archeological dig site.

There's actually a snippet I love where Sifo-Dyas is trying to explain to Dooku that there are other ways to deal with a space pirate queen that kind of hits at the heart of the fic's Milk Run theme:

“She threatens you?” Dooku tried unsuccessfully to keep the outrage out of his voice. He couldn’t possibly follow Sifo-Dyas around for their whole lives finishing his fights for him. Even if he might still want to try.

“Not in a real way. It seemed like almost pageantry to her, or posturing. You know, her crew gets to see her face off with a Jedi, and I get to pull out my lightsaber and wave it around in front of the graduate students, all just good fun…I never thought she’d actually try something.” He scowled. “Especially not with the connivance of the asshole Arnet!

“Sifo…” The words "wave it around" were echoing surreally through Dooku’s head.

“I know, I know. I’m releasing my anger into the Force.”

“No, it wasn’t that…" In his own career as a Jedi, Dooku was occasionally called out to deal with especially troublesome pirates on missions that were more his typical, life-threatening dangerous style, decidedly not milk runs, or research on cultural sites. There was nothing of good fun or lightsaber-waving in the desperate violence of those encounters. “I was just going to say… your life… it is sometimes strange to me.”

“What, just because of the Queen Theo thing?”

“This situation where you and a space pirate recreationally antagonize each other for the entertainment of your subordinates is a fine example of what I mean.” Dooku scoffed. “Come to think of it, perhaps you ought to have slept with her after all. She might have been less inclined to eventually steal from you.”

“Oh, wow, so you know all about pleasing women now.”

Dooku shot him a venomous look. “I get by.”

Sifo-Dyas began to laugh. “I honestly don’t understand why people think you have no sense of humor. You’re completely hilarious.”

#THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE ASK!!! :D #I know I was super late answering but it was because I was having too much fun obviously lol #fic stuff #answer #answered asks

[wrathfulrook]

Wrathling - Prologue/Chapter 1

Fuck it, we ball. There will be no regular post schedule :)

Ok, with much ado, here's my Deputy's canon. Enjoy.

Series rating: E

Relationship: John Seed x Patience Ekner

Word count: ~2k

Read it on ao3.

John Seed stared at the bound deputy in front of him. His eldest brother had been given custody of Deputy Pratt, his sister had taken the Marshal, and the deputy in front of him, Joey Hudson, was entrusted to him.

The sheriff and junior deputy had eluded the Project.

While inconvenient, it would be fine. God had a plan, and the Voice had never led the Father astray. John was a devout man; he had faith in the Father. This would be resolved quickly, easily, in accordance with God’s will.

John chuckled lowly at the woman before him. “Crying already? But we haven’t even begun…”

As he advanced toward her, she shook harder with her sobs, and he smiled. He loved what he did. And it was time to save Deputy Hudson’s soul.

~~~

Deputy Patience Ekner stared at herself in the mirror for far too long. She looked more or less the same as she did when she last looked in the mirror early this morning. She was only slightly worse for wear. A bit dirtier, a bruise here or there. Her hair had been re-braided. Her black choker still sat snug on her neck. The only real difference was the change of clothes. She wore a pair of light jeans, a black tank top, and her green uniform shirt, stripped of badge and name, while the rest of her junior deputy’s uniform laid in a haphazard pile on the concrete floor.

Dutch had advised she lose the uniform, so lose the uniform she did.

She couldn’t discern any real visible difference from her now and her this morning. But she’d been shot at. She’d shot back. She saw a horde – because there’s no other way to describe it – a horde of people attack the helicopter she was in, throwing their bodies onto it. She’d killed today. With intention. She hadn’t even really realized she done it, pushed a woman from the helicopter, until she saw her getting smaller and smaller as she approached the ground. She saw a man willingly climb the vehicle, higher and higher, until the propellers…

She felt she ought to look different after seeing something like that.

“Oh shit… Deputy, I’m picking up something new out of Holland Valley. It’s a broadcast from John… You need to see this.”

She exited the tiny bathroom and found the older man in front of the ancient television set, tuning into the aforementioned broadcast. Patience rapidly bounced her leg but kept her eyes glued to the staticky screen as John strolled around, dictating on sin to the music of the world’s most insane infomercial. She attempted to tune out the background cultists, focusing on the Baptist, who was admittedly more attractive in motion than he was on flyers and billboards. He was the one to watch out for. The cult’s recruiter. But when Joey was marched out, her mouth duct taped shut, her eyes hard and defiant despite the mascara-stained tear tracks dried on her face… her focus was turned into horror.

“…we’ll come for you. Welcome to Eden’s Gate.” The broadcast ended, only to immediately begin airing again. Holy fuck, they had the thing on loop.

“Shut that guy up,” Dutch said, and Patience leaned forward to turn the dial to off.

“Do you think he has the others? Whitehorse? Pratt? The Marshal?” Patience rubbed her temples, trying to clear her mind. Answering her own question she said, “No. Why would he taunt us with just Joey if he had the others? I mean, I guess he could, I don’t know, I don’t know how his mind works.”

“Not understanding his mind is a good thing.”

She sighed in frustration. “Not if I want to get Joey back, it’s not.”

“Deputy, I understand you want to get Hudson back. Everybody else, too. But how do you expect to rescue anyone from John Seed? In case you missed that broadcast, there are a hell of a lot of Peggies.” Dutch’s gruff and no-nonsense tone didn’t inspire a lot of hope in the junior deputy.

“Yeah, thanks, I saw it,” she snapped. “But that was one of his stupid PR schemes. We have no idea where exactly she’s being held or, more importantly, how many people stand between us her.”

“Those are all cons, kid, not pros.”

Patience gritted her teeth, leg still bouncing up and down. “Joey is my friend.” Joey was her only friend. They weren’t overly close; the pair had only met once outside of work. But she was new in town and new to the force. Joey was the closest thing she had to a friend, both at work and outside of it, and she had no intention of leaving her in the clutches of John fucking Seed. The memory of his hand stroking her throat, almost lovingly, threateningly, made her want to chop the man’s hand off.

“There’s a reason he chose Joey, out of all the people he’s taken out of the county, to star in this little production.”

“Because she’s a deputy. And he’s trying to demoralize the people still fighting back against this cult,” Patience answered bitterly.

“Because you’re a deputy!” Dutch roared in response. “As far as we know, you’re the only one on the force who hasn’t been captured. Look, Dep, the Seeds don’t want law enforcement running around trying to stop them, especially after that public arrest attempt.”

“Whitehorse could still be out there. I saw Staci and Marshal Burke get grabbed. They have to be being held somewhere. I never saw Joey or the Sheriff get taken. Clearly Joey did, but that doesn’t mean-“

“John trying to lure you out. You and Whitehorse, if they don’t already have him. But you can’t just rush in headfirst. That’s what he wants. That video, it wasn’t made for the whole county. It was made for you. He’s ‘marked’ you. That the first of his four steps to recruiting cultists, kid. A personalized video.”

“That’s fucked,” Patience growled. “But I can’t just leave a fellow deputy there.” Dutch was getting on her nerves. What was the point of saving her if not to pit her against the cult?

“I’m not saying you should abandon her. I’m saying you should be smart about it.”

Patience put a hand on her leg to stop its incessant bouncing. She certainly couldn’t get Joey out alone. How many people in this county would be able and willing to help her? Dutch would be able. But willing? And who else? She didn’t even know anyone else in this county. Dutch was right. She had no idea what kind of help she would even need.

“What if I head out and do some recon around Seed Ranch? See what we’re up against? Would you be willing to help me get her out?”

Dutch shook his head. “Doesn’t matter how much info you can gather. I doubt the two of us would be enough help to take on the Seeds. But we aren’t the only people in this county that hate that damn cult. With communications open again we could reach out to some people.”

Patience’s thoughts were racing.

“Okay, wait. You’re right. We’re getting ahead of ourselves. I think I should stake out the place and figure out exactly what we’re up against. We can figure out everything else later.”

Not waiting for an affirmation, she stood up, heading towards the door.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to get Joey back.”

“Not tonight.” Dutch’s hand on her shoulder held her back. “It’s been a long day.”

“Understatement of the century,” she snorted.

“Exactly. Falling asleep in John Seed’s backyard isn’t going to help your friend. Stay the night. Then go.”

Patience nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

~~~

John threw his knife across the room, with a snarl, Deputy Hudson jolting when it clattered against the wall and floor.

“Confess!” He backhanded the woman across the face, and her scream turned into a sob.

He threw himself backwards, running a shaky, bloody hand through his slicked-back hair. He was close to losing himself to wrath. Losing himself to wrath, and taking it out on Hudson. And Hudson was not the deputy he was angry with.

He stormed out of the room, yelling, “Take her back to her cell!” as he went, trusting someone would hear him and take care of it.

The junior deputy had just blown up yet another one of his silos, and Joseph was starting to question his competence as a Herald. The deputy had been a holy terror since the day the Reaping began. She’d been destroying Project property and resources, hindering their preparations for the Collapse. She murdered untold numbers of the Project’s brothers and sisters.

Gleefully.

She was hell on earth.

And not he, his brothers, or his sister had managed to capture her. She had become a severe threat to the Project in a relatively short span of time, and it was rapidly coming time to make her pay. The horrors she had visited upon them could not be left unpunished.

~~~

Patience woke abruptly with a gasp, heart racing. She quickly tossed her head back and forth, not quite yet aware of her surroundings. The air outside her sleeping roll was cool, and she could just catch a glimpse of stars glittering above the pine needles. Calming down, she realized she could just hear Peaches’ even breathing on the ground, below her own perch on the tree stand.

She sunk lower into her covers. She was safe. It was all okay for now.

At least she’d woken up this time. The nightmares had been recurring, almost nightly, and they didn’t usually wake her up. At least the waking up was a reprieve. Not that she remembers the nightmare. Or nightmares. She wouldn’t know.

All she remembered were the feelings. The fear. The horror. The unrelenting sense of dread. The crushing weight of them usually stuck with her for a least a little while after waking in the morning.

Though she didn’t know exactly what the nightmares were about, she had plenty of nightmare fodder for her subconscious to draw on. The things she’d seen… The things she’d done…

The deaths on the helicopter had only been the beginning of the hell that was now Patience’s life. The broken bodies at the bottom of Joseph’s monument. The crucified and hanging people along the roadsides. The strung-up corpses that had so clearly been used for target practice. The immolated bones.

So many bodies.

And she’d created a fair few bodies of her own. She didn’t even know how many. Didn’t keep count. Couldn’t if she wanted to. She could still hear the screams of Peggies. Those she didn’t manage to kill with one clean shot. Those who watched their beloved friend or sibling or lover or whoever get taken down by her. So many bodies and so much screaming.

God, even the good guys were the stuff of nightmares. She kept company with multiple man-eating animals. Sharky, who was now one of her best friends, she met when he was luring those brain-dead Angel cultists to his trailer park to burn them alive. There were some pretty harsh rumors flying around about the Whitetail Militia’s conduct, too.

She hated it all. And the nightmares were eating her alive.

But she couldn’t stop. Every crucified, immolated, hanging corpse. Every Angel. Every scream she heard in the night. It would only keep happening and get worse. The goddamn cult was a threat to everyone in this county and she was one of the few people doing anything about it.

But for right now, she closed her eyes and attempted to sleep once more. She needed to be alert tomorrow. She was going to stake out Seed Ranch. See if she could figure out the lay of the land. See if she could determine where John Seed kept his prisoners. So she evened her breathing and hoped for dreamless sleep. It would all be okay.

She could suffer through a lot to save people. Even just one person.

She would suffer through a lot. Because that’s what it would take.

Chapter 2

#my stuff #wrathling #john seed #oc: patience ekner #john seed x patience ekner #far cry 5 #far cry 5 fic #fc5 #fc5 fic

[tired0artist]

| you’re here |

dream x hob or just dreamling

plot 📰 —> what if dream and hob met a few hours sooner? dream follows death on her appointments, until he hears a familiar voice call out to him.

warnings ⚠️ —> mentions of injuries, blood, death, HAPPY ENDING THO

Two dark figures move through the crowded sidewalk, one tall and brooding, another shorter and sending a beaming smile to everyone.

“ I still don’t understand, what you see in humanity… they are all the same.”

His sister smiled at him, squeezing his arm lightly “No they’re not, you know they’re not.”

“Their dreams and nightmares differ. But at the root, they’re all… fundamentally the same. Selfish, cruel, ignorant—“

“Stranger?!”

Everything stopped, as both endless beings froze and turned to the other size of the busy street. There stood a human, not unlike many others around him. Average to many.

But not to Dream.

The man stared as if enchanted, perhaps in a way he was. He smiled blindingly, so much so that as he stepped out on the street, he himself failed to notice an upcoming car.

“Hob!” Dream called out, as he watched the car throw the human onto the harsh asphalt. He wanted to move towards the man, but found himself too stunned as he watched the human get up.

“BLOODY HELL! WE NEED TO CALL AN—!” the driver screamed, ready to exit the vehicle but froze, as Hob stood up and brushed himself off only with a slight wince.

“Sorry! I’m fine, mate. That one was on me!” he called out and simply picked up his tossed belongings and moved away, his eyes finding Dream again.

People on the sidewalk gave Hob a few worried looks, before moving on. Much like the driver did.

The only proof of what just transpired, was Hob himself and his bleeding, bruised body.

Hob stopped a bit away from Dream, before throwing himself and hugging the endless being, closely.

“You’re here…”

Before Dream could react, the human tensed and sharply pulled away only keeping his scraped hands on Dream’s shoulders.

“I am so sorry, okay!” Hob nearly yelled out, looking deranged with blood trailing down his temple and nose “I won’t dare to call you anything you aren’t ready to hear, I swear! Just! Fuck, it wasn’t great for you to fuck right off back then and to not show up in 1989! And also—“

“Hob—“

“No! Let me finish, I—“

“Hob Gadling—“

“I said—“

“You’ve been hit by a car you moronic human!”

Silence fell over the two of them, while people passing by just ignored them.

Hob blinked and looked down at himself, as if only now noticing all the blood and damage done to his clothes.

“Oh. Yeah.”

“You’re hurt and all you can muster to worry about is the quarrel between us?”

The human shrugged with a wince “I mean. Yeah, you’re important to me and I couldn’t risk you getting away—“

“You’re an insensible creature, Hob Gadling.” Dream stated with only a small bite in his tone.

“You truly ought to know that by now.” Hob chuckled, while taking his palms off of Dream just to cringe as the black jacket became now stained with blood “Ah shit, sorry—“

“I would not have left. Especially after you’ve been hurt…” Dream confessed quietly, before smiling a bit and adding “It is not becoming of a being such as myself to leave his friend bleeding on the ground.”

Hob’s eyes shined as he grinned “If I knew this is what it took for you to admit us being friends, then I would’ve gladly thrown myself underneath some carriage back in 1889. Or even in 1389.”

Dream smiled, before grabbing the human’s arm “Come, let me escort you home.”

“Oh, of course. Who am I to deny such proposition, especially since I do have something to show you.”

“And what might that be?”

“The old tavern got closed up, ready to be demolished. I opened a nice pub not too far, in case you showed— wait. Wasn’t there someone with you?”

Dream chuckled and pulled his friend along, in the direction of the old tavern “My sister. She had other appointments to manage, you not being one of them.”

“What does that mean?”

“My sister’s name is Death.”

“Oh… oh fuck is she the one who—?”

“Indeed.”

“Bloody hell… and your name? What is it?”

“I have many and will have many more. But to those closest to me, I am Dream.”

“Dream… it suits you.”

Dream smiled “Thank you, Hob Gadling.”

For the first time, the two walked inside their meeting place together, hand in hand. As if the nearly 33 years of lateness or the previous missed appointment did not bother them in the slightest.

Later, in the warm and stuffy apartment above The New Inn, as Dream watched Hob clean his injuries while talking passionately about his current life, he couldn’t help but smile to himself.

Perhaps, there were some brilliant exceptions, among the humans.

i don’t know, people it’s a short little thing that i had on my mind. hope that you liked it tho!

love you 💗

#dreamling fanfic #dreamling #dream x hob

[fantasycorrupted]

" Do I hug you too much?" [ Cas to Fi !]

“Mmmh...” Fíann’s face becomes pensive, her eyes flitting towards the sky as she considers her words. “A little bit, yeah. I can say that.” Should she be thinking before she speaks? Definitely.

But Fíann just shoots out the truth right away, serving it on the first metaphorical plate she can have. No, honesty is not meant for silver platters. Those carry only lies. And sometimes you just ought to speak your mind.

“I understand why you do it, though... you’re just too sweet,” she muses. “Besides, I don’t mind. Not if it’s you. Friends do this sorta thing, aye?” She chews on her lower lip. Here, her confidence shatters, showing her true distrustful nature even in the presence of someone she considers close.

Friends do this. But not false friends. Not traitors. The first person she ever dared call her friend and consider close the way she is with Caspian now ended up stabbing her in the back, talking behind her back, manipulating and insulting her both in her face and without her knowledge. It has been years since.

Old wounds can reopen however, and each time she lends somebody her trust, Fíann can’t help but think they’ll just act the way Merric did. Damn you, Merric. Damn you. I want nothing to do with anyone ever again, and it’s all your fault! Of course, those are merely bitter thoughts, directed at a man who has been dead for a long time.

“It’s just that...” Fíann sighs. “I don’t do friends. You changed me, and I’m starting to like that. Being around you, doing things with you. You know.” She offers a smile, but it fades too fast for her liking. “But I had a friend who... well, we weren’t just friends.” More memories resurface, and she feels the bile rising in her throat. Fucking Merric.

“He ruined friendships for me. Now I’m only in touch with the few people whom Merric did not manage to lie to that I was... who he made me to be.” Fíann crosses her arms. No, no, this is different. Caspian would never call you what Merric called you and make you believe all those things. It’s hard to accept it, as good of a thing as it is. But she might. All she needs is time.

@luposcainus

#( asks. ) #( answered. ) #fíann; #luposcainus

[becauseanders]

Ooh I'm curious, how do you write Aveline?

basically, with growth.

because the kirkwall crew is a family and i firmly believe they all help each other learn and grow, and i am standing by that. because it just doesn’t make sense in the context of da2’s narrative for them to not all be genuine friends who genuinely love each other.

so my take is probably going to be a bit skewed because i always play mage hawke, but i imagine that for a warrior or rogue hawke then aveline’s time with bethany could also work.

so pretty much i see the aveline we first met as being fairly cringe, yes. i mean, the woman married a templar, and i fully get and support that being a criticism. it’s not great, for sure. but that could have been ignorance born from privilege, and that doesn’t make it okay but it also doesn’t mean she can’t change and that wesley’s untimely death coinciding with her damn near straight up joining the hawke family doesn’t mark something of a clean slate for her.

but then she gets to kirkwall, again basically as a hawke (i mean, doesn’t she also get into the city through gamlen’s bribe connections along with the surviving hawkes?), and joins the guard. which is also…a thing, but i’ll get to that. but as a fereldan refugee in kirkwall, she should see right away what oppression looks like first hand. and while it shouldn’t take experiencing oppression to care about it, i like to think that she did start to open her eyes to the bigger picture as a result of how she’s treated in kirkwall. on two separate occasions jeven calls her “fereldan bitch” and “the fereldan with the orlesian name,” and the latter is spit out with every bit the same amount of vitriol. so now in a world where she’s not only experiencing being so grossly othered and treated differently for reasons outside of her control but is also hanging out with mages all the time, that ought to be a wake up call.

she also has a strong sense of justice, almost if not as great as anders’s, hers is just misguided. but it doesn’t have to be? maybe in the beginning when she’s still stuck in not knowing fuck about shit regarding the plight of mages, but by the end of act 1 she should have a pretty good idea of what three members of this found family she’s stumbled into risk every single day just by existing. and honestly? she should respect the living fuck out of anders for what he risks in helping people and what he means to other fereldan refugees. because she, albeit not to the same degree, should understand how hard life in kirkwall is for people like them. add that strong sense of justice and the compassion that should have grown from her experiences and her friends’ experiences, and she should eventually be able to see how fucked up the world around her really is. and maybe it takes a minute because she’s stubborn as hell, but as far as i see it she simply cannot live this life without changing her perspective on some things.

there is one point where she talks about not really believing in the maker and hawke can say, “but you married a templar,” to which aveline will respond, “i married a man,” as if to say his being a templar wasn’t really a consideration. and i don’t remember what act that’s in but i will acknowledge it is not a great look, and it isn’t necessarily an excuse but that probably gets entwined with grief and if you add a crisis of conscience because of her previous world view being turned completely on its head to that and how that could affect her grief…that could have been really interesting to explore! but we all know better than to think bioware would offer us anything that deep.

and yes, she joins the city guard, so it is with a heavy heart that i must acknowledge acab applies to aveline. but i also like to imagine that maybe at first she believed in what she was doing, but through her time with hawke (or bethany), anders, and merrill, she starts to recognize how what her job asks of her can actually be so very wrong, and that she adjusts to this accordingly. i think varric writes her the way he does so she can keep her job, because in my head she starts using her position to try to help people. anders makes a comment about her term as captain not being mage-friendly, but what if that’s just varric on his bullshit? what if she actually does let mages escape when they haven’t done anything wrong, and that’s why varric wants to protect her position? and she’ll kill templars with you if you need to fight any while she’s in your party, so who’s to say she couldn’t do that when she catches templar abuse while on patrol? so what if that’s why varric has anders and aveline at each other’s throats all the time, and maybe that’s why she’s so awful about things like the elves the arishok is protecting in act 2. (also she’s so mean to isabela because she’s jealous of her. which is still bad, but also something she can grow out of and apologize for. and then you also find them drinking and laughing together in the barracks at one point, so…bioware just really had no idea what they were doing, did they?)

and yes i know just about all of this is a massive reach, but i feel like bioware kind of forces us to reach with this game. like, if anyone in your party hates each other or actively works to hurt each other in da:o or da:i, then that still sucks but it also doesn’t make as little sense as it does for your friends to not be friends in da2. seriously, bioware, these people weren’t joined together for some higher calling, they’re just a group of lovable assholes who somehow keep ending up in world-altering trouble. but for them, unlike the other games, their companionship is about being friends first and accidentally being put in charge of fixing all of kirkwall’s problems second. we do not need it to be so volatile between them all the time, bioware, it does not make any sense!

and thank god for da2 being a tale within a tale and varric canonically being a huge liar, so we can take this story and do whatever we want with it, including making friends friends!

sorry this got so long, i just…have feelings, lol.

anyway, bioware’s shitty characterizations and character dynamics and general writing are so sad, alexa play “we are family”

#the trash makes noise #bizarreshark #aveline vallen #dragon age #dragon age ii

[memestockpile]

twister (1996) feel free to change as needed.

come on, sweetie, let’s get up.

we need to get down to the storm cellar right now. 

don’t be scared.

this is gonna be a long day.

you’re nervous about seeing her, aren’t you?

do i look nervous?

i just want to get it over with.

give me a kiss.

oh, fuck! this thing is useless.

okay, boss lady, hold your horses. 

all i’m saying is don’t fold the maps!

who is that handsome devil?

oh, man, don’t start that shit!

honey, why don’t you hang out here for a little while.

the prodigal son returns. 

i’m happy you found us.

you see the sky today?

boy, not much for browsing, are you?

i guess, uh, it probably seems kind of sudden.

how come you had that tone?

it’s like a whole new you.

this is very awkward. 

i thought you’d be coming out here alone. 

it wouldn’t be right if you weren’t here. 

i find this kind of interesting. i’m gonna tag along!

what drives me is the unknown. 

you think i wasn’t gonna find out about this?

you slime! i ain’t through with you yet!

he’s a corporate kiss-butt.

honey, is everything okay?

why don’t you get us some cold drinks.

he’s wacko. 

you ought to keep a leash on him. 

gum?

if you have to pee, you should do it now, because there’s not many places to stop once we get on the road.

you’re still in love with him, aren’t you?

you got it, boss. 

[starts singing “oklahoma!” at the top of their lungs]

she did not marry your penis. 

i’m not fighting, i’m talking. 

okay, i’m making extremely civilized conversation here. 

you’re biting my head off. 

you couldn’t resist, could you?

what could i possibly need a therapist for?

can i drive?

somebody should warn her about your temper. 

stay the hell out of it.

i know exactly what i’m doing. 

as long as you’re happy.

have you lost your nerve?

tighten your seatbelt!

why can’t we spend a normal day together?

it’s over, it’s over, it’s all over. 

that’s intense! 

you almost got yourself killed!

don’t even think about it. no way. 

i know you’re upset. you just gotta breathe. 

god, wasn’t that incredible?

i’m sorry, honey, i didn’t think. 

deep down, i always thought it was a metaphor.

shhh, it’s okay. 

you’re fashionably late again.

we crave sustenance! 

day before yesterday, i was telling [name] how much i missed you.

gimme some of that loving!

in a severe lighting storm, you want to grab your ankles and stick your butt up in the air. 

yeah, i’d like to get hit by lightning once, y’know, see what it’s like. 

hey, this is real lemonade.

i’m moving in here!

you got a lot of beef. where’d you get all this beef?

did you see my cows out front?

it’s practically a food group.

shower’s free.

better grab some while you can.

for me, it’s the thrill of the hunt. 

god, he sucks. 

how can you watch that garbage?

what a wiener. 

i thought it was just a summer thing.

i’m talking immanent rueage. immanent rueage.

you guys need to get some new stories. 

not naked. i was not naked!

this is a tissue of lies.

see, now you’ve lost me again.

doesn’t matter what you do, you’ll still be beautiful.

i’m sorry to eat and run. 

thank you, sweetheart. 

okay, time to impress me. 

let’s get you wired. 

an ordinary person spends his life avoiding tense situaions. 

trust me. [sender’s name] is good, [sender’s name] is wise. 

you’re insane! what are trying to do, get somebody killed?

dirtbag. 

we’re gonna have to get off this road. 

we don’t have a visual. 

this is the one, man. i feel it. 

this is the fun part, sweetheart!

you people are all crazy, did you know that?

ow, fuck!

what’s the matter with you? we can still do this!

you don’t understand, okay? you’ll never know. 

listen to yourself, you’re obsessed!

stop living in the past and look at what you’ve got right in front of you!

you better get over here.

can i have eight coffees to go?

come on, take my hand.

i can’t do this anymore!

the lines are down, i already tried.

you’ll be safe at the motel. i’ll see you in the morning.

i can’t compete with this.

sooner or later, it would have ended, we both know that. 

i never meant for any of this to happen. 

don’t worry about me. i know my way home. 

how about some steak and eggs?

how nice of you all to come over.

you’re going to the hospital.

overnight? forget it. i’m alright. 

okay, i’ll go, but i’m gonna drive myself. 

honey, your car’s in a tree around the corner. 

i was worried about you. 

there’s nothing to see. it doesn’t even hurt. 

when i want your opinion, i’ll give it to you. 

we tried. there’s nothing we could do. 

maybe we should get off of this road. 

i’ve never seen anything like this. 

we’re going to be very popular!

it was a good idea. 

we’ve got so much to do.

do you always have to do things the hard way?

we’ve got data coming out of our ears!

look at that sky!

you know what? i think we’ve seen enough. 

#roleplay sentence meme #sentence starter meme #rp sentence meme #sentence starters #sentence meme #tumblr rp #rp meme #rp #roleplay #roleplay meme #tumblr roleplay #inbox meme #rp inbox meme #inbox rp meme #askbox rp #askbox meme #ask meme #askbox #ask #rp prompts #roleplay prompts

[writeyouin]

Lucifer (Hazbin Hotel) X Male-Reader - Sinless Sinners - Chapter 3

Chapter 3 - Learning To Get Along

A/N – So, a user on A03 suggested the snake servants’ new names. It was a stroke of genius on their behalf, and I can only thank them for it.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

FEMALE VERSION HERE

GN VERSION HERE

Do you think you can manage that? Lucifer’s words hung in the air, creating an icy barrier between you.

So, Lucifer thought himself too good for low-life Sinners such as yourself. That wasn’t fair. Sinners might be in Hell for a reason, but sometimes such reasons were just fucking stupid. Heaven ought to base their entry requirements on a person’s character or strength of heart, not just their actions. You had met plenty of Sinners who were in Hell because of the most trivial shit.

There were those who liked to sleep around, but if sex positivity was a problem, then how did Heaven explain Angels like Adam, whom Charlie had told you about in excruciating detail. Lust shouldn’t have ever been considered a Sin, as long as all participants in any such carnal act were above age and consenting.

Then, there were a few murderers you knew. Granted, murder made the lines blurry, but some Sinners killed in self-defence, or only targeted others such as themselves, protecting the innocent in a very gruesome Dexter-like fashion. Were they really to be condemned? And who the fuck gave a damn about Sloth. So, some people were just bone idle, who gave a shit? Heaven apparently.

And now, the ruler of Hell was condemning those around him as well. He was supposed to care for his people, good or bad. Not to mention those who were solely created for or born in Hell, such as Imps, Hell-Hounds, or the Deadly Sins themselves; they hadn’t committed any crimes to get sent here originally – it was their home.

Your eyebrows furrowed, creating an annoyed crease along your forehead.

“No,” You told Lucifer, who stared at you incredulously.

No? Didn’t you understand the situation? He was Lucifer. King of Hell. He could destroy you with no effort spared, leaving no trace that you ever existed, and you were telling him no? He wasn’t an unreasonable guy, but how could you possibly think that being around him was a good idea? Did you respect Charlie more than you feared him? Granted, he didn’t go out much so few knew how powerful he was, but no other Sinner would dare deny him his wishes.

You saw the look he was giving you and decided to explain yourself.

“Look, I’m only here ‘cos Charlie thought it was a good idea, and if you genuinely hate me, I’ll go and you’ll never have to see me again, but you’re not even trying right now. You haven’t spoken to me. You don’t know anything about me, and frankly, I think Charlie’s right, you do need someone to talk to.”

“I don’t-” Lucifer started.

“You don’t even know why I’m down here,” You interrupted angrily, though you refrained from raising your voice. “And you don’t want to know, right? ‘Cos all of us filthy Sinners must be the same. Ooh, we squandered your gift of Free Will and now we deserve to suffer for eternity, do we? Grow up!”

Lucifer stared at you in astonishment, and you sighed, apparently not finished in your tirade, “I’m going to my room tonight, but tomorrow, I expect that you’ll at least try to tolerate me. Who knows? We might even find some common ground. We both love Charlie, don’t we?”

Lucifer didn’t know what to say to that. He certainly loved his daughter, more than anything else in the universe, but you? He still suspected that you had some kind of ulterior motive… everyone in Hell did. Yet, you had a point. He would do this for her, even if it meant he had to tolerate you.

Who were you, really?

He looked at you closely for the first time, trying to pick out some detail of who you might have been. It was even more disturbing than he previously thought. Before, he only saw a human. Now, he examined your clothes. There was little to say about the style, but your apparel was reminiscent of a Holy Animal. With the ruffled cuffs of your jacket, the way the back peaked to create the image of feathers, and the yellow ribbon that lined the white material, you looked like a dove.

Yet… Despite living in the Hazbin Hotel, Charlie had insisted that you didn’t seek redemption. Why go through the farce of dressing like an Angel then… unless? No, you couldn’t be. No Angel would dare stray from Heaven unless they were ordered to.

Lucifer held back a glower, trying to keep his emotions in check so you wouldn’t sense his thoughts. There was a possibility, though small that you had been sent by the likes of Adam to spy on Lucifer and his kin, ensuring that none of Charlie’s patrons ever found a way to the Pearly Gates.

Well, it wouldn’t take long to uncover your ruse. Lucifer had ways of telling an Angel from a Demon, and once you were asleep, he would know.

“Yeah,” Lucifer said evenly. “I love my Charlie.”

“So, you’ll try then.”

Lucifer nodded his head in consent.

“Okay, I’ll see you in the morning. Good night.”

The sentiment went unreturned as your King returned to his chambers, biding his time until you slept.

When you returned to your room, you got ready for bed. The day had been long and unusual. Honestly, you didn’t feel that you had a place in the manor, and you longed for your room in the Hotel, even if it was smaller, had a large stain on the carpet (which Nifty had named Vivienne) and an unruly infestation of roaches.

In the short time you had spent there, it had become home.

You would miss the arguing inhabitants, the energetic wake-up call from Charlie, the feeling of safety that Vaggie instilled, and the sound of Alastor’s morning and evening radio broadcasts. Yet, you hoped you might find something equally valuable in return if only Lucifer would open himself up to the possibility that you didn’t want anything from him.

After glancing out of your window, which had a balcony you could step out to if you so wished, you took in the whole of the Magne District which was the heart of Pentagram City. If you strained your eyes, you could just see the flashing neon of the Hazbin Hotel, and if you turned your gaze up… There was Heaven, out of reach yet always in sight, taunting most Sinners, yet emboldening a brave few who dared to wonder What If? What if they could change and gain admittance to a better life?

You sighed and dared not ponder further when you needed to get some sleep.

Throwing yourself on the plush bed, you got comfortable, arranging yourself how you liked, then leaning over to your bedside table, you blew out the cherry candle you had previously lit.

You rested your head atop the satin pillows, then frowned, feeling a lump beneath it. You reached under and pulled out a rubber duck, painted to look like a Hellhound-Duck hybrid. Assuming it was one of Charlie’s childhood toys, you placed it carefully atop the table; it would keep you company on your first night in a strange new place.

Lucifer waited till the late twilight hours before leaving his workshop. He transformed himself into a snake, slithering silently through the Hallways, ensuring that you wouldn’t hear him coming.

Before being cast out of Heaven, detecting an Angel would have been a simple task. He would just know, the way he now knew how to read a Demon. Yet, with you giving off little sign of Demonic energy, he now had to test if you were of Angelic origin. There were two ways he could do so. The first was by spilling your blood. Those who were born in or sent to Heaven had golden ichor instead of the oozing red or black goop of Hell-spawn and Sinners.

However, not wishing to alert you to his presence, Lucifer decided to opt for the other method.

Once he was inside your room and certain that you were in a deep slumber, he reverted to his original form, standing over you, his pupils turning to slits at the thought of a traitor in his house. If you were what he thought you to be, he would kill you immediately.

He pulled a small yellow twenty-sided stone from his pocket and baring his fangs in anger, he pressed it lightly against your skin.

Nothing happened.

Lucifer’s expression changed from one of deep-seated loathing to confusion. You weren’t from Heaven. If you were, the stone would have glowed a brilliant shade of Gold. Instead, it remained its original dull yellow.

Very well.

He would keep his word and… Tolerate you.

He left your room as quietly as he had entered it. Tomorrow, things would be different.

Lucifer didn’t sleep that night; the idea of change was terrifying.

The next morning, when Lucifer finally resigned himself to the fact that he was going to have to face you eventually, he headed downstairs, assuming that was where you were.

“JUST TRY IT!” He heard you yell. “TRY! OPEN YOUR MOUTH, DAMN IT!”

“Uh…” Was all he could think to say as he entered the kitchen and found you clinging to one of the snake cleaners he had created the previous night, in a rodeo-like fashion. The creature was trying to buck you off, with a somewhat derpy expression, probably stupidly assuming it was a game; Lucifer hadn’t bothered to instil them with much intelligence since he didn’t need them for anything more than cleaning.

“ARGH!” You grunted as you were dislodged from its back.

“What- What is this?” Lucifer asked, confused.

“Oh shit!” You cursed, embarrassed to have been caught in a less-than-dignified position. You attempted to regain a little composure by standing up, then held up a handful of wadded-up pancake.

“Do they eat?” You demanded, referring to the reptilian cleaners, “’Cos they’ve been in a picture frame their whole lives, and they must be hungry by now.”

Of all the stupid things you could have done, Lucifer couldn’t help but crack a smile, though he had the decency to hide his laugh behind a clenched fist and pass it off as a cough.

“They don’t need to.”

“Okay, but can they?”

“If they wanted to, I suppose so.”  

You glared at the mushed-up pancake, “I fucking knew it. Spick, Span, eat your fucking breakfast!”

“I’m sorry, who now?” Lucifer asked.

“Well, they clean, don’t they? Spick and Span seem to fit unless you have something better to name them.”

Lucifer chuckled, a half-short-lived chuckle, but one all the same. You were more chaotic than he expected.

“Fine, if you want them to eat, you’ve got to cook in style.”

He waved his hands energetically, his outfit transforming from his usual suit to one befitting a flashy Michelin Chef. He was comfortable in the role of an entertainer as he made a dazzling display of cooking up eggs. With the flash-bang of indoor fireworks, the island counter gained a conveyor belt to transport several dishes, all perfectly presentable and giving off a delectable aroma of herbs and spices.

Eggs-benedict, frittatas, and shakshuka shot by you, closely followed by a hungry Span, though his twin was busy writhing on the conveyer belt, trying to get to his feather duster, yet doomed to chase it since he didn’t think to travel in the opposite direction so it would meet him in the middle.

The sight was memorable to say the least, even when Spick knocked the food onto the floor and his brother was left stupidly sucking on the corner of the countertop where his seemingly new favourite dish had splattered.

You couldn’t help laughing.

“See?” You struggled to get the words out, “I knew they’d like food. I’m just a shite cook.”

Lucifer gazed at his dishes proudly, even though they were no longer fit for either of your consumption.

“Hah,” You said, feeling somewhat awkward now that the moment had passed and Lucifer’s gaze was upon you, trying to figure you out. “I’ll uh, clean this up.”

“No need, leave it to Flim and Flam,” Lucifer said nonchalantly.

“You know that’s not their names.”

“Whatever. So… we’ve met, there was breakfast with a show. We done for today?”

The smile fell from your face as you realised that all of this was just another of Lucifer’s acts. Granted, he might have actually had fun with it, but it was all just in the name of claiming he had tried to be around you, and just wanted to leave as soon as possible.

“I don’t know. I was going to go into the City if you wanted to come.”

“I can’t. I have… plans.”

Lucifer’s mood soured as he thought about visiting Heaven’s embassy to set up the meeting for Charlie. He hated everything about that building. The décor was just a cruel reminder of everything Heaven had banished him from. Moreover, while the Angels had to respect his power, they didn’t respect him; their cruel words and thinly veiled insults always cut him the deepest. Not to mention how bitter he was that the balance of power was uneven. Sure, Heaven had an embassy in Hell, but there was no such building in Heaven where Demons could work to arrange meetings between Angels and him.

It would always be Lucifer going to their building, on their terms, usually at their behest.

“Plans? So, you’re setting up Charlie’s meeting today?” You guessed astutely. “You know, I’m walking that way too.”

Lucifer guessed at your game. You probably hadn’t been going in that direction at all, but this was all in the name of ‘trying’. One way or another, he would have to learn to get along with you.

“Fine. Let’s go,” He said, flicking his hand back blasély, even though he found the idea of walking the streets of Hell daunting.

It would be better if he could teleport there, but at least, by the end of the day, you would have something positive to report back to Charlie.

#fanfiction #reader #reader insert #fanfic #male reader #lucifer morningstar #lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer hazbin hotel x reader #charlie morningstar #lucifer magne #lucifer magne x reader #hazbin hotel #hellaverse #sinless sinners #part 3 #chapter 3 #learning to get along

[kangamommynow]

Odd things about anxiety

I'm more anxious now than when James was alive. Is that because 1) his depression and anxiety meant I needed to keep mine held real tight so I could be his safe place 2) his death, and my dad's, and the whole trauma of Covid years have worn away my resilience. Possibly both.

Or maybe I'm fooling myself and I've always been this batshit anxious. Not always. Not as a kid or teenager. I don’t know when. I don’t know why. All I know is that I have a hyperactive adrenal system.

James’s anxiety always seemed to be about hypervigilance, being on guard for a threat. That’s not what mine looks like at all. Mine is intrapersonal and interpersonal.

I have come to understand, a little, that the physical manifestation of anxiety comes first for me. Hormones go into overdrive. Then my brain, being a brain and trying to make sense of things, goes “hmm, we are on alert. Let’s look around and see what might be the source of the problem”. My dumb ol brain latches onto whatever it finds and suddenly this is causing me anxiety. It could be work, it could be relationships, it could be that the kitchen isn’t clean. My brain, being a human brain, says to itself, “you’re a total loser and you ought to be doing so much better than this. Why can’t you get your shit together?” Or “Clearly he’s just not that into you, and why would he be? What have you got to offer anyway?” Or “well of course you’re anxious, the kitchen is a mess, and the laundry isn’t done, and you can’t manage to do anything”. You see?

Anxiety doesn’t remember that five minutes ago I felt fine. It doesn’t remember that I already accomplished fifteen tasks today. It doesn’t remember that I got snuggles and reassurance of affection not three minutes earlier. It doesn’t care that I’m a grown ass, intelligent, independent, thoughtful human. It doesn’t care that he smiles beautifully every time he makes me laugh. It doesn’t care, it doesn’t remember. All it knows is that there’s a surge of hormone in my system and it’s job is to keep me alive by figuring it out.

For the people who care for me, this means sometimes I freak out for very little apparent reason. It means sometimes I need extra help, or extra understanding, or extra forehead kisses.

For me, it means I have to work on finding the correct meds to control that extra hormone dose. It means I have to be careful. Be aware. Pause. Breathe. Hormone surge does not equal life crisis and it’s up to one part of my brain to tell the other part of my brain to chill the fuck out.

[separatist-apologist]

Stay here, honey, I don’t wanna share for tamlin and Adelina please !!

Stay Here Honey I Don’t Want To Share- Tamlin x Adelina (739 words)

They were going to be caught. Adelina shifted beneath the half shredded blanket she’d had the foresight to bring with her, her fingers combing leaves from her hair. Beside her, a massive beast stretched its legs, yawning wide enough the span of her thigh would have fit easily inside. She reached out a hand, absently scratching through the soft golden fur until the beast became a man.

“Do you want to be caught by the sentries?” she asked by way of greeting, appreciating the long, muscular form of her mate. Tamlin rolled to his stomach, fingers trailing up her spine.

“I don’t care if they see me at all,” he replied, his voice gravel. “I’m sure they heard us last night.”

Adelina blinked against the first rays of dawn creeping through the forest. “And the children?”

Tamlin didn’t blink. “Too little to understand,” was his immediate reply. That was true enough, though Alexander often watched the pair of them with his big, green eyes as he sat on the bottom steps, arms wrapped around his little knees. Finn was just a baby, Alexander was six…and yet when he peered up at her, she sometimes thought he was older. More aware than a little boy ought to be.

Adelina started to sit up but Tamlin caught her, pulling her back to the ground, half pinned beneath his body. “Stay here,” he murmured, pressing feather soft kisses up her neck. “I don’t feel like sharing you today.”

“There are things that must be done,” she tried to protest even as she hooked her leg around his own.

“Yes,” he agreed, fingers sliding through her. “But your High Lord demands satisfaction.”

“I satisfied my High Lord all evening,” she reminded him pointedly, delighted when he offered her one of his rare smiles. Tamlin was so lovely, a golden God come to earth. She often found him impossibly serious, as if the weight of life itself was heavy on his sculpted shoulders. Adelina had made it her mission to day she accepted that mating bond, barely knowing him at all, that it would be her who pulled smiles from his lips.

As it turned out, Tamlin was perfectly capable of smiling the moment she got him away from his responsibilities. Adelina squirmed beneath the warmth of that smile, well aware she’d do anything he liked now. She meant to protest a little, at least. After all, it was hardly proper for the Lady of Spring to be out all day in the forest being fucked like an animal.

“I am never satisfied when it comes to you,” Tamlin told her, nose nuzzling against her neck. 

“How will you get any work done?” “I barely do,” he agreed. His large, calloused hand slid up her bare stomach, fingers halting just beneath her breasts. “You are my every thought.”

She knew that wasn’t true. Tamlin had all but rebuilt their court, had brought prosperity back to Spring despite the long road still left to travel. She would have been content to live in that half ruined manor tangled with thorny vines. He thought of the people, he cared about the land. It was what made it so easy for her to love him, in return. Tamlin was selfless in that regard, for a male who claimed he never wanted to be High Lord. 

“You are a terrible romantic,” she teased, poking him in the cheek. “And you will be late for breakfast with your sons if you do not put on pants.”

“I will explain I was simply appreciating their mama,” he replied without letting her up. “They will understand given how much they love you, too.”

“I think Finn will be quite angry if he has to share his mother with you again,” Adelina replied. Tamlin’s smile softened, became so impossibly affectionate her heart threatened to escape her chest.

“Yes, he is quite in love with his mama, isn’t he?”

She nodded, eyes staring pointedly as if to say, so we should leave now.

“He gets that from me,” Tamlin growled, licking the column of her neck. “The children can wait another hour or so. I will make my apologies the usual way.”

“You can’t bribe them with toys—” “And why not? I am High Lord, am I not?”

And as Tamlin’s mouth began to drift lower, Adelina suddenly forgot all her arguments.

#i see you anons trying to make me flesh her out #whats her personality you ask? #its being in love with tamlin and a GOOD MOM #but also enjoying getting railed in the forest #tamalina

[alligatorjesie]

I’m a black woman & reylos like you have been sending me death threats for years. Telling me they want to lynch me for years. Calling me racial slurs for YEARS just because your ship & community is racist & I call it out. So honestly? I don’t feel sorry for you. I think you’re getting exactly what you deserve. How does it feel to get just a tiny fraction of what I get almost daily for the first time in your white life?

Reylos Like Me? Bitch, there ain't no reylos like me.

Anon... Man...

I’ll admit something here, I wish you guys would send me this shit using your real accounts every once in a while. I understand it’s hard to use your real face when you type out the words ‘You deserve those death threats you get’ and still feel like you’re on the moral high ground, but before you take one step further up that hill you've made into a mountain and trip on that stone then tumble backwards ass over teakettle into the fucking ditch you deserve to live in until forevermore, I want you to stop and think real hard for a second what you just typed out and why the fuck that shit is fucked beyond explanation.

I want you to consider the thought process of telling someone that you have received death threats yourself from people in a fandom, then continue with zero fucking awareness to tell a whole new person you've never fucking interacted with before and know fucking nothing about other than they're a reylo that they deserves death threats for... being a reylo?

Like telling that to someone else removes your old wounds or some fucking shit. Does telling me I deserve to die make you feel fucking better?

I don’t fucking know you since you're obviously too fucking cowardly to use your real account to say shit like you just fucking said, because you know it's wrong enough you 'ought not use your real account to say it but not enough to stop you from doing it.

I can only assume who you are because there’s only 3ish people like you I’ve come into contact with in the reylo fandom space with your tune. It’s a pretty small world here, I don’t know if you’ve noticed. The furry fandom is much larger and I’m fully aware of the problematic people in that fandom.

The first user liked to bring up race as an issue when it was never was an issue and blocked me instantly when I brought this up.

The second one, only after deciding I was racist because I had the fucking gull to talk about the very real and harsh reality of Police Brutally as a fucking American, took that information and somehow assumed I wanted them to die via cop?

Beats the shit out of me.

This is the same group that seamed to struggle with associations because they also kept conflating that mentioning nazis meant you were automatically Also talking about the holocaust? IDK. They’re fucking stupid children.

The 3rd one is Stitch and I sure as fuck hope that cunt ain’t sending me anons sayin’ I deserve fucking death threats, because that would be stupid of them on every fucking optic.

We’re just gonna hop over the whole assumption that I’m white because I present online as a fucking alligator so first off bitch as far as you know I’m fucking green and yellow, we ain’t got time for that shit right now, scolding for another day, Continuing:

We are gonna spend a moment on the incorrect assumption that I, A Furry, have in fact Not been receiving death threats since childhood.

Well let me set that record straight for you right now and tell you I Have, As A Furry, Been Told To Die A Lot In Fact.

And not just told, but attempts on furry lives has in fact been made.

I have been being told to die since I was 9.

I was 9 years old the first time someone online told me to go die in a fire because I was drawing myself as a cat.

No one is nice to furries. It’s literally an online joke. Furries are at the bottom of every internet culture tier.

So as someone who has also been dealing with death threats since a very young age unlike what you wrongly fucking assumed, you can and should understand my complete fucking befuddlement of this same person who took the time to sit down and dictate a message to me describing in graphic fucking detail the Absolutely Horrendous Things Said To Them As Death Threats then:

Made A Fucking Choice to Further Perpetuate It,

without a fucking HINT of irony.

You send me this anon telling I deserve death threats because I told someone who was harassing my friends in their own fandom spaces to leave that space if they were going to continue being assholes to my friends? That in your book is what deserves someone getting a death threat? You think I deserve to be told I should die because I told a harasser to fucking leave?

YOU, person who was also recited death threats for defending your own however fucking twisted idea of mortality, think it’s fine someone else gets them for essentially defending their friends from harassment via people like you?

Well that’s fucked up. I know a lot of reylos, being a reylo, and most of them just want to read smut and make art of the thing they love. We’re very insular. What we are not a fucking hive mentality so I just fucking don’t know were you got the idea that if one reylo acts like a fucking shithead then ALL the reylos most be equally shitheads.

Most reylos don’t speak for me. Quite a few very well know and popular reylos have blocked me because of the shit I say to antis in this fandom, not many of them want to read the word 'cunt ' that often in a day and I understand. Now if those reylos have that kind of reaction to me simply telling people off in graphic detail you can understand my disbelief when you tell me you've been given death threats by Multiple Reylos.

I just have a really fucking hard time believing you without some fucking proof.

Reylos are more chill than furries and I didn't fucking think that could happen. I've never met such a big group of genuinely sincere people in my fucking life and I've been in a lot of fandoms.

They spent 7 years just quietly dealing with death threats and harassment for guessing a ship correctly rather than fight back from you fucknuts. They're very pacifistic. Literally just here for the smut and the character development.

But just because a handful of fucking horrible human beings who just so happen to be reylos sent you death threats don’t suddenly make it alright for all reylos to receive death threats you daffy fucking cunt.

You've been getting death threats from reylos for years? I question the authenticity of that but fucking news flash chucklefuck, so have the reylos.

Oh yeah, there are bad actors in this fandom. Fuck me, I’m one of them. I’ll bet you good fucking money most of the reylos here fucking hate seeing my posts pop up if the zero interaction is any indicator.

‘There’s the fucking cunt of an alligator again making all the reylos look bad’ and you know, that’s fair. I ain’t the fucking belle of the reylo ball let me tell you that right now, But Goddammit, I just have a real hard time keeping my trap shut when people who hate this fandom rear their ugly fucking heads to pop into our space and tell us the thing we love is wrong for ‘X’ reason.

I get it, you’re black and offended by space nazis in the galaxy battles saga.

But we’ve had this conversation Many Fucking Times Now about the character of Ben Solo and how we’ve deduced he’s not a fucking nazi with all the context clues provided in the source material of the books, comics, and movies.

I can’t help you understand any more that we reylos hear your complaint.

We see it.

We're painfully aware of it.

We get why you’re mad, but every single fucking time we try to show you why you’re mad for the wrong reasons you wont fucking have it and I'm not gonna hold your hand and help dumb-dumb mcshitty-pants-head here understand how basic fucking plot structure and character drives works in a movie so fucking easy to follow literal children understand it better than you.

But you know what you can do if you flat fucking out refuse to be fucking civil in our fandom space?

You can fucking leave.

You ain't a fucking fan that's for sure. Not with the crazy fucking shit ya'll spout. So why the fuck you here? Fuckin' leave.

I can not make you understand any more that your continued harassment of people in this fandom over this tired and proven incorrect belief about a character that we care for deeply and have explained to you time and fucking time again isn’t a fucking nazi isn’t going to change hearts or minds in this fandom.

You are not helping your cause every time you post in the reylo tag with another Hot Take™ about Kylo Ren and why you think he’s a soulless monster. Just like you probably wouldn’t be making a lot of friends if you showed up at a Black Panther party and started going on about how you think Malcolm X is a domestic terrorist.

Wrong fucking place man.

You’re not saving us from a nazi character.

You’re not convincing us that Ben Solo doesn't deserve redemption.

You’re not teaching us the errors of our smooth brained ways because you think we're stupid fangirls who can’t tell reality from fucking fiction and might also accidentally become nazis by enjoying what is honestly the most fucking vanilla enemies to lovers trope on the fucking market rather than the truth which is we just really wanting to see the redeemed son of Leia Organa and Han Solo make hot fucking love to Rey from Jakku and watch them both grow old and happy together with dozens of kids.

Don't like that idea? Fuckin' Great My Cunt, Never go into reylo fandom tag again and you'll never fucking see it again.

It's just that fucking easy!

Listen, You don’t deserve death threats no one fucking does, but you should understand why the reylos get mad at you with your fucking constant harassment of a ship that just isn’t as problematic as you’d fucking wish it was.

But speaking of reylos sending you death threats;

You point me in the direction of these reylos and I will fucking personally chew them three new assholes. That shit ain’t fucking alright man. No one should be fucking telling you to go kill yourself and if someone I know says shit like that you’ll bet your sweet fucking ass I’ll be the first fucking cunt in line to tell that stupid fucking bitch right the fuck off.

I don’t want them in my fucking fandom and I'll fucking tell them to leave just like I tell you stupid fucks. Just like I don’t want nazis in the furry fandom.

And you know what we tell nazis trying to get into the furry fandom? We tell them to fuck off too.

I don’t like that you were told you should die. That shit is fucked up.

But my horrible fucking anon, you should do the most fucking basic courtesy as a fucking human being who has gone through that yourself and understand why it’s not alright to wish death on others.

You should take a break from tumblr, light up a fat fucking doobie, put on some Radiohead Kid A, and do some internal reflection on why the fuck you think someone you've maybe only interacted with once before deserves death threats while also reflecting on why you might be getting so many yourself.

If you’re so ready to tell ME I deserve to die, then you’ve likely told other this too.

You get out of life what you put in. If you’re an asshole and you put that out there, assholes will find you. God knows that’s true, look at us two giant fucking assholes now. I put my whole huge asshole out there and now I get at least 5 asks a day that are either some fun variation of ‘go kill yourself’ or ‘you like fucking nazis you whore’ to the person who was once chlorine bombed by a nazi at a furcon.

Do you not want to receive death threats? Maybe don’t send them yourself.

God knows I don’t send death threats, yet I still get plenty of them just for being a cunt for rightful reasons.

But I’ll tell you what I’ll never fucking do is send you a death threat.

You can be an asshole, fine man that’s your fucking right. God fucking knows I can and fucking will call you everything from a rotten jizz sock or a bloated condom filled with piss, and on a good day I may also describe in detail how hard and raw I love to fuck both your parents that anyone who screws them after can just shove their whole leg up in there and they wouldn't feel a goddamn thing, but stop for one fucking second the next time you type out the words ‘you deserve death threats’ and consider this simple fact of life:

You get back what you put in.

#Anti Talk #reylo #furry fandom #death threats #I feel like I should update the banner #after all that was kinda a death affirming threat. #We'll see if they continue to be a cunt.

[repulsivechameleon]

Im doomed and This is my final destination..

Some people are born to set examples while others grow to be made an example of and im becoming one and i dont wanna see how thats going to end for me, other than suicide. Either ways.

My life is so colorless and i can barely get out of my bed to pee

I dont drink water anymore

Or eat much

I haven’t had food in 4 days and im not even phased

Im so unbelievably ill

Its like my depression is so bad it literally paralyzed me, mentally numbed me that i dont even care about my eating disorder, or my manic episodes anymore, everything is meaningless now even my anxieties and nightmares.

I never catch up until the damage is done good.

Nothing ever matters to me.

Mostly because nothing is ever under my control

Ive always felt like an outsider everywhere i went, maybe its cos im fat maybe its cos im black maybe its because im dumb and ugly or just chemically unbalanced.

I have fought to be normal and to belong every single day of my life just to end up failing at every simple little task i dealt with, just like how i failed every single thing in my life, somehow ill always mange to end up being the weirdo and the target.

I don’t understand how people can stand to be in a room with me.

Im the worst friend, the worst person I’ve known all i do is self destruct

Ruin relationships

Make everyone feel so fucking awkward and uncomfortable

Lie lie lie lie

Im so fucking ugly inside and out I’ve tried to convince myself otherwise but ifs impossible to ignore the truth.

Badly wired like shit

Im so sorry for all of this and what i am

I hate myself so much

I cant even look in the mirror without breaking down i don’t recognize myself anymore

Not even photos

I shaved my head and its so grown and i missed all of it

I’ve missed on major life events, mine and my friends unfortunately i cant take that back

It eats me up alive because there is no excuse for disappearing from thr people i love without notice, there is no way i can bring the days back. The hopes and dreams that we had, the lives we thought we were going to lead once we grew older together, your life is going to be much more better than the dreams weve dreamt once upon a time my friend and knowing that makes me the happiest person alive. Im so sorry to any friend i hurt and i might hurt. Im sorry.

I feel like someone ought to understand why im doing what im doing

nobody deserves to be burden with my stupid meaningless issues.

I have no memories or attention spam anyways

I dont remember anything

Ive been erasing who i am

I just thought this was rock bottom yet i somehow still manage to dive deeper to the lowest point

And the drugs dont work anymore and when the music starts to sound more like background noise without any significance to the words, i know my time is near.

Mental illness, lack of religion, brainwashed im probably going to be called all that but for once in my life i want to not care, call me that so fucking what ill be dead anyways we’re all going to die. Isnt life meant to be a test? This is it.

For once in my life i want to have a say in anything, i want to make a decision on my own and i want that to be my first and last decision i make, just once please.

I do miss believing. When i had religion i had peace and sometimes i wish I listened to my parents and never questioned anything, it would’ve been so much better, different, drastically different than this, different waves of depression but with more stability, anything but this. I wanna believe in something again but it’s kinda too late for me because i can barely look at my reflection and believe what i see.

Im so sorry mama n baba, i would kill myself to give you a better life and a different prodigy wannabe daughter but i just keep taking from you im just a waste of money and resources and i cant bare the guilt anymore, I thought I could fix it but im in too deep. The truth is so disappointing and embarrassing i think i would rather do anything than to face you after you learning about who i am, i dont know what to say than im really so sorry from the bottom of my heart the entirety of my being im sorry snd I love you and i love you and im so fucking sorry that i am the way that i am. Thank you for always being attentive thank you for giving me unconditional love and for making me feel the safest ive known, i know its not easy being my parent, you’ve done amazing and youre doing amazing still. You were just kids who didn’t know anything yourself, i wish that you can somehow forgive me. I fear a lot of things in this world but knowing that my parents could disown me and hate me if they learn my truth, it cripples me. I love you so much mama i love you so much baba. I wish i could give you one last hug one last time but youre a thousand miles away.

To my sisters,

My 2 beautiful sisters, you know.

Im the luckiest person to have had my sisters with me in this life. What a ride, The definition of the word sisterhood. I would take a bullet for my sisters in a heartbeat. Im so sorry

About everything, i hope you can forgive me, i know it grows conflict in your religion, but know that i am going to be at peace now and you dont have to worry about your baby sister anymore. Im not your liability anymore. I hope you grow old to become everything you both ever wanted. I love you so unbelievably much. I love you so much and im sorry. Im going to miss you like crazy. Im going to hug you both again someday somehow.

I dont know when but soon ill be gone, i have a lot to say but i dont feel like leaving anything behind because i dont want to be remembered or cried upon, im selfish for thinking that no one would think to shed a tear for me I know its not true but I don’t want to think about it, once again im a lesson to be learned. Its going ti be better for everyone in the long run. I’ll be more beneficial when im gone<3

I remember i was 12 thinking about suicide, then 15 attempting suicide, promised myself that i would take my life by 18, now 22 surprise surprise im still here.

I’ve always been fascinated by death, I’ve always planned my death it became so normal i would daydream about dying before going to bed and I remember when i was younger during my religious phase, I thought that i could kill myself ages 12-15 so all my adulthood responsibilities and the sins that accompanies that gone avoided too.

I remember thinking it wont count id be tried as a child that god will understand why i killed myself and will somehow sympathize and send me to heaven as if “god” is the highest judge in some sort of fancy supreme court or something that id have to defend my soul for that. I was a fucking child but it was smart. I wish ive done it tho; shouldve listened to the voices huh.

Whatever, im just lonely and bored out of my mind, I feel so old worthless and unaccomplished like I became everything i didnt wanna be, and there’s no going back.

Waadeena, you know that i would give you the world x

#last days #goodbye #last words #its not that deep #grow up #living with bpd