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anantaru · 1 year

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How about jealous reader with kuni?

cw. [ex]plicit, jealous! reader, established relationship, fem! reader

kuni was as pretty as a drawing— or a picture made by the most finest camera of fontaine. beautiful, bewitching, pretty— there were many ways to accurately describe your boyfriend‘s alluring demeanor.

but in your own very eyes, they still did not do him any justice.

consequently, you, in all respects, did not mind the eye twitching chit chatters behind your back you oh so happen to catch onto every once in a while— how, another clique of people you only knew distantly, would slowly walk past your boyfriend and afterwards gush about his darling face and his beauteous traits.

his lustrous eyes and the color— which was hypnotizing in its own rights, reminding them of how he‘s idly behaving and how damn strong he was said to be according to the other rapidly growing news chumming about the mysterious man wandering around sumeru city.

but, snap out of it, not to lose sight of the fact that in actuality he was all yours— yours, yours and yours. but for some annoying, irksome ground you wanted to show him, as if he wasn't already aware of it— even though scaramouche knew and did not require you to prove nor demonstrate anything of that sorts to his person.

thus far, you kept it to yourself— that brewing, gut-wrenching feeling manifesting in your belly and littering into your bones, remained concealing by yourself until it all shattered right into your face.

now, you hover over him, saddened with your mind everywhere but where it should be— clumsily glissading your hands over his pale chest before raking your head down. you think he notices that something wasn't right but you hope he doesn't after all.

at your own pacing, you ghost over his jawline before placing your lips on top of his, for once sealing the insufferable distance between your bodies and stealing a couple kisses from your lover.

"i hate it." you admit against your own volition, it's almost as if something metaphysical forced you to say it out loud, though you're moaning into his mouth as he skillfully bottomed his hips deeper into you, erratically slapping his erection into your worn out hole.

"i hate it when they talk about you!" but then, it hits him and scaramouche opens his eyes at your baffling words— which had also been confusing him greatly as he carefully reduced the flow on his hips to pull your face off his, observing your with sorrow drenched expression.

"ah— wait!" even with him trying to decipher what was going on with you, he catches himself flinching into your lips again when you jerk your cunt into his length, walls twitching experimentally, like a second pulls enclosing his throbbing cock.

"who— fucking who talks about me?!"

breathing slowed, you pout at him, unintentionally reliving the innumerable days you had witnessed people attempting to get with him, with scaramouche; your boyfriend, soulmate, your life.

it was sad— but more embarrassing if you were actually truthful to yourself, that you let someone so insignificant as a random person‘s words influence you this much that you‘re still thinking about it even while your boyfriend was in the midst of fucking the broad daylight out of your skull.

"those girls." you sniff, messily shoving away the crystallines sticking onto your doused lashes with the back of your hand. but before you can catch a breather from your own damned psyche, scaramouche curls your body close to him, your hips now muted— though his cock would rest and skim into the cavernous pits in your pussy, but mellowing down your rise and falls.

"they always talk about you." you hiccup again, kissing his lips once, twice— one more, trying to hide the fact that you were tremendously jealous right now, of everything and all, it's not even 'just' those people, you began to doubt yourself and if anything, that's what worsened the whole setting.

scaramouche‘s face was ridden with confusion still but he did not say anything right away— right now, he thinks the most important was you, as always— to aid you, to kiss and drink your tears away and keep you warm, plugged into his chest.

genuinely, he had no clue who or what you were talking about, but if he learned one thing from being in a relationship with you; it’s that whatever is happening in either of your lives, you're battling it together, as one entity.

yet still, did you already forget that he‘s absolutely in love with you? or lets rephrase that, shall we? scaramouche was obsessed with you, downright and shamelessly crazy about you. that you‘re the only person that crosses his mind hour on hour, night on night?

he opens his eyes, he sees you, he closes them, he sees you.

"i don‘t care." he spoke upfront to be certain to get his point across.

yet scaramouche needed to show his disinterest in more ways than a simple sentence— in an immediate chain of reactions, he was flaunting you on your back so he‘d be the one to tower over your pretty frame.

you're his, you're his and his, he thinks about it, knows it and wants to imprint it into your insides and out.

"i don‘t care about anyone." he drawls back, using his skilled tongue to plant a wet line on your collarbones before shutting down your worries by a swift hurdle of his hips in you, bringing one of your legs over his shoulder as you tremble under him by how good of a position he had you in, how almost feral, he uncontrollably claimed your sopping cunt with the relentless tempo on his hips.

"i only care about you." he smacks his cock forward again and again, "you, you, you." and he muses in tune with each thrust— fuck, again and he wants to make you cum so badly his cock was beginning to ache, then twitch in you, from both excitement and the pinpointed drags of his heavy cock rubbing over your inflamed insides.

"so stop thinking about it, hm?"

with the impact now being significantly larger, your breasts bounced in keeping with his newfound, reckless energy— and you cry out his name with a sweet, satisfied smile on your lips.

#scaramouche smut #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #scaramouche x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #scaramouche x you #genshin drabbles #genshin impact drabbles #genshin impact scaramouche smut #genshin impact scaramouche x reader #wanderer smut #wanderer x reader #scaramouche x reader smut #genshin impact x you #genshin x you #𖤣𖤥𖠿𖤣𖤥 thirsts'

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inhuman-obey-me · 5 months

Text

Belated collab piece for Solomon's Birthday 2023!

Art by Mod Cosmos

Writing by Mod Chaos

His Immortal Soul

Can also be read on AO3 here Word Count: 3.8k Description: "Madness, where is its soul? Madness, all alone." A series of reflections on Solomon, shining souls, and what it means to be human.

Iarabal

With an impressive 72 pacts at his command, the Witty Sorcerer Solomon is said to have a most delectable and enticing soul. Demons clamor for the chance at a piece of it; there are rumors that even Death herself longs to claim it. It shines with the wisdom he was once gifted, and it is finely aged with the polish of immortality. The soul of a man who controls so many demons without succumbing to their allurement is a delicacy indeed.

Humans with the power to resist demons have nicely polished souls, like jewels. The more noble a soul, the shinier, and the more demons both long to claim it and are repelled by it.

At least, that's how it should be. That’s how it usually works. It’s what Iarabal had expected, when he'd heard that the infamous sorcerer himself would be coming to RAD as an exchange student under the Demon Prince's bizarre plan. Of course, no one had dared actually touch him once he arrived -- his pacts are with some of the most powerful demons in the realm, and the idea of treason aside, none would want to additionally face the wrath of those such as Asmodeus or Barbatos. And that’s all before even getting to the sorcerer himself, a man so powerful and conniving that he’d managed to gain the power of those many demons while offering away little to nothing of himself in exchange.

So Solomon’s soul, by all rights, is quite beyond reach to any average demon such as himself.

But Iarabal had planned to look upon it, at least, and savor the fantasy of devouring it. Flames lick at the insides of his belly in anticipation, and he salivates at the thought, even if he knows he will never get a taste. A demon can dream, can’t he?

Yet, as he lays eyes upon the sorcerer, something feels not quite right. It sparkles, yes -- even more dazzlingly than the demon had imagined, it sparkles. But there is something wild and incomprehensible about it, like funhouse mirrors warping the refractions of a million diamonds. The longer he looks, the more it seems to expand and stretch, and he is trapped in it, as though a cavern of crystal is closing itself around him. His appetite is fading rapidly, and a growing sense of something almost like dread builds in his stomach in its place.

Is Solomon so noble, to be able to repel him this way? Is this the strength of how powerfully his soul shines?

The demon isn’t sure. This doesn’t feel the same as any other time a human’s soul has repelled him. He feels like he’s losing his mind entirely, and the longer he stares, the worse it seems to get. Then again, he’s never looked upon a human so powerful as this, so who can say?

Iarabal averts his gaze. He doesn’t want to look upon it anymore.

The sorcerer’s soul is, he thinks to himself, better left alone.

Lucifer

There is something very, very strange about that sorcerer, Lucifer thinks.

Solomon has, as always, asked him for a pact again today. “Come on, this is basically just how we greet each other, isn’t it?” the human explains away blithely when the demon rejects him, with a smile that doesn’t match the seriousness of what he asks.

Of course, it’s not the pact-seeking that makes Solomon so strange, even if he is singularly annoying in his persistence about it. Plenty of humans have sought similar with the infamous fallen angel. He’s not even the only among them to try to use trickery or magic to force the demon’s hand.

No, Solomon is strange because, of all those humans, he is the most alarmingly devious, wicked human ever to have such a beautiful soul.

“Someone pure, genuine, and worthy of respect. I’m not sure if you’re aware of this, but demons are most attracted to the souls of people like that,” Lucifer had once told you.

The sorcerer as he knows him is none of those things. Lucifer is very familiar with the immortal’s reputation and history, and none of it could be described as pure. Rather than genuine, the man is unforthcoming at best and outright deceptive at worst. Any respect he has earned usually comes mostly from raw power, and most of that comes from the sheer number of pacts he’s accumulated, along with the Ring of Wisdom that Michael gifted him so very long ago. And then there’s the matter of his many past transgressions against demonkind...

Yet, despite this, Solomon’s soul sparkles brilliantly every time Lucifer sees him. It’s shocking how radiant it is, in fact. He’s hardly ever seen anything like it. The way it shines speaks to a level of purity and nobility of spirit beyond almost any other. And he smiles that carefree, nonchalant smile, an expression that would almost seem like he’s exactly what his soul says he is, even as he tries to solicit a pact from the demon, day after day, year after year.

But Lucifer knows better. Solomon is not pure or genuine. He is not as innocent as he plays at being. He is a dangerous person, and he is not to be trifled with.

The dissonance is unsettling, and for that, Lucifer does not trust him.

Granted, if a demon were to choose any human to make a pact with, Solomon would certainly be at the top of most any demon’s list. It’s true that a pact with that most powerful human sorcerer ever to live can lend one a certain degree of status in the Devildom. He has a reputation for only bothering with demons whose power he deems interesting enough to be worthwhile. And those who do forge such agreements with him revel in the amount of raw magic that he channels through them, when they are called upon.

Any other demon might have given in and made that pact a long time ago already. Rather, many already had – Lucifer’s own younger brother among them, to his chagrin.

But the Avatar of Pride is decidedly not looking for a human with whom to form a pact. He has had little interest in forging a pact with any human, ever. He’s made one exception recently, for you, and it’s his only one since becoming a demon. He doesn’t intend to make another. And certainly not with that particular human.

So, time after time, Solomon asks him again. And, time after time, Lucifer remains ever firm in his refusal.

Thirteen

It’s a real shame, Thirteen thinks.

The sight of his soul, the first time, is still clear in her memories. The way it sparkled when the moonlight hit him -- she doesn’t think she’ll ever forget it. It was bright, and brilliant, like the rainbows refracted off of the most incredible diamond, but also so much more than even that. No image could ever capture it; no words would ever be enough to describe it. Candy had thought she was delusional when she’d tried to tell her about it afterwards. But it was no delusion. His soul really was just that incredible.

It was like nothing she’d ever seen before, and nothing she’d seen since – at least, not until very recently.

And, to Thirteen’s disappointment, it doesn’t sparkle that way anymore.

That isn’t to say she doesn’t want it anymore, of course. It’s still one of the most captivatingly stunning souls she’s ever come across, and she’s not going to give up on having it. She’s been this patient thus far; she’ll keep trying, however long it might take.

Still...it really is a shame.

She misses the way Solomon used to be. These days, he’s so serious, even as he hides it behind a demeanor so cheerful it borders on idiocy.

Back then, he was different. He’d been more innocent by far, for one thing. She remembers the sight of that child hidden away in the basement, staring up at her through the lattice of that half-underground window. His life hadn’t been exactly easy up to that point, but his world back then had been so much smaller. He hadn’t been caught up in all these otherworldly conflicts, concerned with balances of power and the fate of humanity caught between them. No, back at that time, his magic still felt like a miracle to him, and even if it hadn’t been nearly so impressive back then, he’d had a simple sense of wonder and pride at each little feat he managed to perform.

His soul had been so perfectly pure back then, unclouded, unshaded. There had been such honest terror in the shriek he’d let out, and it had been so cute from that little kid that she couldn’t help but tease him a little, even as she’d tried to reassure him that she wasn’t his enemy.

She’d meant it then, and she means it still. Even as she tries time after time to capture his soul, and for all the many ways he’s annoyed her century after century, she holds no actual ill will towards the sorcerer. In a way, frustrating as it is to have her traps constantly fail against him, it’s a fun game of sorts for her too. He’s more than worthy as a target. She’s been waiting for the day his name shows up in the reaper’s list, but at this point, would taking his soul without a challenge even be satisfying?

So he entertains her tricks, and she plays at capturing him, and in the times in between, he calls her a friend -- one of his only friends, perhaps. He trusts her, with a strength of heart that only someone with such a brilliantly polished soul could.

She is not his enemy.

Someday, though. Someday, she’ll claim that sparkling soul of his. Even if it takes until the end of eternity, she’ll never give up on it.

For that man’s soul, it’s worth it. That’s just how valuable it is.

Barbatos

It was a delicious expression on Solomon’s face, that first day the two of them met -- shock, fear, desperation, shame. A delectable mix of all humanity’s basest, heaviest emotions.

To his great disappointment, Barbatos has never seen it again.

The reaper, among their cohorts, blames him for how the sorcerer’s soul changed, so many lifetimes ago; he is well aware of that. And he does not deny it -- it's true that Solomon is no longer the same as he once was. That may well be because of his influence.

Perhaps he did spoil him, back then, this fascinating human that he’d decided to take in and save from the encroaching grip of mortality. It had come about by a simple curiosity, mixed with a knowledge that few others had the privilege of being able to see. This human, a mere mortal on the verge of death, had been powerful enough to summon a demon as fabled as him without yet having a pact or bond in any way, and Barbatos could already foretell that this reckless earthly soul would someday have a pact with him who freely manipulated time at will. He knew this sorcerer would have quite the sway on the fate of the three worlds someday, and he was terribly interested in knowing how such a frail being would accomplish such a thing.

So Barbatos had taken Solomon to the Fountain of Knowledge, assigned him its guardianship, cared for him until he’d regained his health, and then made the pact he knew they were meant to have. He did show Solomon a wide expanse of alternate worlds and times, of futures and histories that the human could not have even dreamed. All of it was still nothing compared to what Barbatos himself has seen of the infinite. But it was far, far more than any human should have any right to know.

If that’s why Solomon is the way he is now, so be it.

But Barbatos isn’t so certain that’s exactly the case.

He knows who Solomon is, more deeply than probably anyone else the sorcerer has ever known. Few things can be kept secret from a demon who can see across all of time and space. He has seen Solomon at his best, at his worst, and most times in between. He has held both deep affection for and deep grudges against the man.

At the end of all of it, Solomon is who he is. He is exactly who he has always been meant to be. Barbatos has never tried to turn him into anything else.

One of the reasons Solomon’s soul shines so brightly, in his opinion, is probably that insatiable curiosity that he has. The sorcerer does not settle for things as they are; he wants to see things as they could be -- good or bad.

Solomon was the one to ask Barbatos to show him those deepest of horrors, dredged out of the abyss of possibility. “I’ve read through the books in the Fountain of Knowledge,” he’d announced, “almost every one of them. But knowing those things from books isn’t the same as knowing them. I need to see it, experience it, for myself, so I can be prepared for anything. Will you do that for me, Barbatos?”

Barbatos had simply obliged. He is, after all, the one who had brought Solomon to that place, so very long ago. It had been no surprise that the sorcerer had gone on to research what was available there, especially considering how long it took to restore him to health. He wasn’t going to deny the human’s request after already giving him that much.

And as the man himself had said, he would need to be prepared. He did need it, if he was going to fulfill the futures Barbatos had foreseen for him -- futures where Solomon would work towards pursuing the goals he has been so dogged about for an eternity now.

But that is simply who Solomon is. He wouldn’t have been satisfied with Barbatos keeping him sheltered and uninvolved, powerless in that perpetual battle between the other realms. He knew what he was asking for, and he wanted it anyway. He’s never regretted that request to Barbatos, and the demon doesn’t regret granting it.

So maybe Thirteen is right. Maybe it is Barbatos’s fault that Solomon’s soul is the way it is now. Maybe he did show the man too much, maddened his soul, corrupted him somehow. He is a demon, after all.

But Solomon doesn’t seem to mind, so neither does he.

Solomon

The sorcerer, like any human, has never been able to see his own soul.

He has, however, heard plenty said about it, by the many unearthly beings he calls company. Fascinated lesser demons have noted to him over the centuries that it is quite impressive, greed dripping from their tongues in hopes of taking it for their own.

Asmodeus, on the other hand, has never been particularly interested, occasionally quipping that if souls are like gems, he’s “not interested in lab-grown,” before ribbing the sorcerer over whether it’s even actually a human soul anymore.

Thirteen has lamented many a time how his soul doesn’t sparkle the same way it used to, a remark he usually just shrugs off. After all, what can he say in response? He has no control over the exact way that it sparkles, nor any particular interest in doing so specially for his reaper friend’s appeal anyway.

Barbatos, for his part, is quite neutral about it. “Your soul is hardly the most interesting thing about you,” the butler tells him.

Solomon is inclined to agree. Even if he can’t see souls in the same way they can, what does it matter? He knows who he is. He knows who he has been, where he came from, and what he has become. It is inescapable, in fact, even as his reflection in the mirror shows none of that change.

A reflection that, unchangingly, shows him what he has always been -- human.

They say he doesn’t really count as a human, that he can hardly even be considered human anymore at this point. And it hurts a little, he has to admit. He is still just as human as he has ever been, in his opinion, and it is only the others’ own condescending pity of humans that makes them think otherwise. They think he is not human because he has power, and no human could be so powerful. Despite his best efforts to show the potential of humans, they simply discount his own humanity instead.

His soul is proof. It’s not right. For being such a shining soul, the nobility of his heart is warped. It’s tainted by some strange shade, maddened by some unnatural force.

But he would say that unnatural force comes from the very ones who deny him his humanity. For thousands upon thousands of years, has his mission not been noble? Defending humanity’s right to be an equal, independent existence against the heavenly and demonic realms which seek to exert their influence is certainly a noble goal which has given him quite the strength of soul to resist them. Is it his fault that it required him to become so cunning and guarded to achieve that goal?

Any human who could see and experience what he has would be the same, he thinks -- if only any other human could indeed. It is, perhaps, the very loneliness of it that twists him further. He wouldn’t wish those struggles upon anyone, not truly, but he has long felt the weight of carrying this burden alone.

Then, you came along.

Falling in love with you is a little like seeing his younger self for the first time.

You are you, of course. You are not him, not a past version of him, not a thing simply to project onto. He knows that, and he would never try to make you someone you are not. But you are familiar in ways that feel almost nostalgic.

You still have an innocence, like he used to have. Not that you’re naive -- you know well enough how to handle those brothers by now, and you have certainly gained that ability to resist demons as Lucifer once instructed you to. But unlike most, you had a unique chance to earn the respect of those around you; the brothers have a true affection and camaraderie with you that most humans never have the chance to get. The Celestial Realm, too, first came to know of your existence as powerful before they really knew you.

They recognize you as an equal. And that gives you a chance to seek the same mission he has had all this time, from a more even starting point -- at least, if you want to. Or to seek anything else you’d like.

You have that kind of spirit, that he believes in whatever path you choose. Even without the power to see souls as they sparkle, he can see there is something special in you. Something he wants to protect, something he wants to nurture and see grow.

Something that he needs to protect, if the forces who twisted him are now threatening to involve you too.

You

Of course Solomon is a little weird, you think. He’s a human who has existed in this world of demons, magic, angels, sorcerers, witches, and everything else, for longer than any human rightfully should have existed at all.

But at this point, aren’t you a little weird, too?

You laugh it off the first few times they say it -- that it’s debatable whether he even counts as human anymore. It’s true, you think. An immortal, powerful sorcerer who has seen everything you’ve ever learned about history and more, with a reputation of being more demonic than most demons themselves? Yeah, you’ve never met any human quite like him.

The longer it goes on, though, the more that opinion changes.

With the brothers affectionately surrounding you, chattering away amongst themselves, they make that remark again, and a small part of you starts to wonder what exactly they mean by it.

What’s so inhuman about him?

He may be deviously clever, but is it really so strange to think that humans might have their schemes sometimes? It’s rampant throughout the human world.

His age is beyond comprehension, but it turns out that plenty of human witches bargain with demons to extend their lives. You’ve started considering it too, if you’re being honest.

He is powerful, the most powerful human ever to live -- except, so are you now.

You start thinking, more and more, that the two of you aren’t actually quite so unalike.

If they think he’s not human anymore, how long until they think the same of you?

So you mention it to him one day, just as a passing comment, during your training together. You didn’t mean much by it, but he frowns, and he ends training for the day, and he takes you to a café, just so you can chat about it a little more. And you didn’t mean to complain, but you end up talking about it and all your other worries and stresses over this whole exchange student turned sorcerer deal for what turns into hours.

He's vague, and evasive about any follow-up questions, but he tells you a little about some of his worries too.

You realize you didn’t really know him all that well before. You start to get to know him better.

When you start talking to him after that, really talking and having real conversations, it’s refreshing in a way. You tell him mundane little stories about your life before all of this -- about your parents, your friends, old anecdotes of how you grew up. You tell him about the things you used to do and your worries about how you’ve become so disconnected from all of that now. And he understands. He listens with a knowing sort of care that none of the others quite have. They do listen to you, of course, but everyday human life is as abstract to them as this world used to be to you. Human life, compared to their own realms, seems so small and inconsequential.

Not to Solomon, though.

As you talk to him, you realize, without a shadow of a doubt, that he remembers. The human world has changed over time, and so has he, but he still remembers what it was like. He still sees things as a human does, no matter how long he’s been surrounded by all this. He asks you all about the human world nowadays, like a house he used to live in, where new owners have come in, and the walls have been repainted, and none of the furniture is arranged how it was before.

Even so, it still feels like home to him. And talking about it feels like home to you.

You don’t really know what they all mean, when the others talk about souls being sparkly or polishing yourself so yours becomes shiny.

Apparently, you sparkle. Apparently, so does he.

But does it matter? Does it matter how all these otherworldly beings judge the worth of a human soul?

What you know is this:

You are human. And so is he.

#yes it's late but at least less than two weeks?#obey me #obey me!#obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me solomon #obey me solomon x mc #obey me solomon x reader #happy birthday solomon #writings #obey me fic #mod cosmos doodles #mod chaos in the devildom #obey me lucifer

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biteofcherry · 1 year

Note

Hi I just went through your master list and all of your stories are a-maz-ing! But I wanted to ask, I need to know, how alpha Ari chose omega reader?! Is it a true mating like in Grainof Truth? When and why he decided he wants that omega. Cause damn he want to extremes to get her (and I'm weak for that 😳😳😳 )

The Bad Moon Rising universe is a completely different universe than Grain of Truth, so it's not a true mating for Ari and his omega.

Bad moon rising

alpha!Ari Levinson x omega female reader

warnings: none for this part below; mentions of primal kink and chase kink; a/b/o dynamics; wolf!Ari; alpha!Ari; shifter!Ari;

There was something about you that made him curious. Simple as that, yet it meant much more.

~ * ~

Not much surprised Ari. For two decades now he carried responsibilities on his shoulders, providing for his pack and dealing with their problems - as serious and as petty as they came.

Ari read people easily, he learned it along the way when he took over the pack, and he grew bored with how predictable most of them were.

Then the autumn equinox festival came and you appeared among the numbers of Dimitri's pack.

Ari and your alpha decided on joined celebrations, so the two packs could show they can coexist and share land while still staying independent. An uncommon thing to happen for shifters, but Ari respected Dimitri enough to give his idea a chance.

Even if his alpha instinct snarled with the urge to dominate over the other alpha and take over his territory.

For shifters, wolves especially, land was sacred. Most needed to free your wolf and roam freely.

But human civilization spread rapidly, buying off lands and chopping down trees. They turned everything into steel and glass, their cities like cages for shifters who longed for nature.

So when one pack was in danger of losing land they searched for it - often warring with other packs. It ended with an alpha challenge. To the death. The winner taking over both lands and both packs.

That was Ari's initial plan too, but Dimitri was a seasoned, calm alpha who came with a counter proposal.

To share lands.

Honestly, Ari still wasn't sold on that idea. But he would honor the sacred celebrations of autumn festival. He made sure his pack behaved their best, as well.

It was then, as he leaned against an old tree that burst with shades of red and gold, drinking sweet mirabelle plum wine and watching some of his easygoing people break ice with your pack, that's when he noticed you.

A mature omega - your scent wafted to him even over the mixed aromas of food and bonfire.

Ripe as a plum and untainted by a mate's scent.

Ari felt his whole body snap to attention. His wolf side perked up, fascinated as well confused as to how a delicious omega like you was unmated.

You looked well into your thirties; not something that he really cared for. However, it was uncommon for any shifter past twenty five to be unmated. Mostly due to pack's expectations and pressure to meet conservative standards.

So many young members of his pack buzzed with this need to quickly find a partner. Yours pack too, he noticed.

Just like he noticed single females prancing around for his attention. One curl of his finger and he could have any he wanted.

To be fair, he was going to end his festivities exactly that way - with a willing partner to tumble with in the woods, raw and primal just the way he liked it the most.

Now that you appeared, the only chase he wanted to follow was after you.

An unmated omega so mature of age was a fascinating occurrence. It meant you had an iron will, standing against any social pressure, as well that you expected more of your partner. Ari respected that.

Slowly, he prowled along the shadows, watching you as you stepped to the side to admire one of the hand-carved wolf statues.

You traced your fingers over the fine details of the statue - a masterpiece, you had to admit that. With a little smile, you picked one of the flowers from thee wreath on your head and put it behind the wolf's ear.

"I'm not sure if he'd snap his teeth at you, or waggle his tail."

Unexpected chuckle startled you, your eyes lifting up from the statue to stare at the man emerging from the shadows behind it.

Ari Levinson.

The dreaded alpha of the other pack. He was recognizable not only for his reputation, but also because all of the young women in your pack kept panting after him the whole evenings; pointing at him, whispering, hiking up their skirts to show more flesh and lure his attention.

You understood the attraction. Levinson was handsome and charismatic. Built tall and big, overpowering. Sharp blue eyes that saw any tick, any weak spot.

Everything about him screamed alpha and your wolf side mewled with the need to run away. Partly of fear, partly because the bitch knew the alpha would give a chase.

You swallowed nervously, but tried to mask it with a chuckle.

"It's festive time," you shrugged with a smile, "even the most brooding wolves should celebrate. I helped him getting into the mood."

"Sometimes a wolf snaps his fingers when he is in a mood." Ari's voice was a low, soft caress.

The meaning behind his words hit you with a punch of heat. Along with the lure, came a spike of fear.

If this was merely him flirting you up, seeking for a chance of one night of rough fucking, you'd probably follow quite eagerly. It's been a while since you gave in to the carnal side. And your wolf would howl in pleasure.

But the way Ari's eyes were trained on you was too assessing, to intense. And he wasn't even staring at your boobs. No, he was studying you.

He was, you realized, fascinated.

For an omega, having an alpha - an alpha as powerful as Ari Levinson - fascinated with her meant binding for more than just a one night stand.

An alpha was a predator. He engaged in fun without pouring all of his instincts into it. When he did that, it meant he was on a chase after a prey he was adamant on catching.

"Ah, there's quite a bouquet of flowers to choose from to fit your mood." You turned slightly and motioned at the gathering of people, groups of women (and a few men) glancing toward Ari with promises of devotion in their eyes.

"I'm a seasoned alpha," Ari chuckled in a self-mocking tone, "I've had my fair share of occasional celebration. I'm ready to permanently sate my mood."

"What makes you think I'm the right choice?" You knew that blunt disobedience wouldn't go with any alpha.

And you shouldn't antagonize one that might as well force your pack to submit to him.

"What makes a wolf know that a doe will sate his hunger?" He replied, stepping closer to you. "I don't know that yet, omega. But I want to find out."

You trembled slightly, though you tried to take control over your body. Instinct to run away was growing stronger, but you knew the instant you stepped away Ari would pounce.

Your wolf side buzzed with excitement at the prospect. Your human side feared being unable to handle the overwhelming power of Ari Levinson.

He wasn't simply a strong and confident man. He was a ruler, a conqueror. Your independence would crumble, if he bound you to him.

"That's bold. You don't even know if-"

"You're unmated." Ari stated with confidence.

"I'm-" you thought of restoring to a little lie, suggest that you're meeting someone in hope it would deter Ari.

Once again he interrupted you with a calm certainty:

"You're not with anyone." Ari traced your cheek with a finger. "No man's scent lingers on you."

He leaned much closer to you, his fingers dipping below your hair to grip your nape.

"It's best if it stayed that way, omega." His voice remained soft, but there was a growl to it. Your clit pulsed with the sound of it.

"No other scent, but that delicious, tempting smell of you. Until you're covered in my scent."

"I haven't consented to it." You tilted your chin defiantly.

"Of course you haven't." Ari suddenly pulled away, a respectful step between the two of you.

He grinned at you; charming and playful. The blue of his eyes shimmered with excitement.

"Make me work for it, little omega." He reached out to pick a flower from your wreath.

"Make me chase you." He tucked the flower behind his ear.

#ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x female reader #ari levinson smut #alpha ari levinson #alpha!ari #shifter!ari levinson #ari levinson x you #bad moon rising

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deadpresidents · 10 months

Note

What do you think is the best job to prepare someone for being president?

From everything I've read that former Presidents or people who worked in senior positions in various Administrations have written about the actual job of the Presidency, I don't think there really is anything to prepare someone for being President. If seems that many modern Presidents who took the job seriously and tried to govern in a normal, responsible manner were stunned by how big the job truly was once they got into it.

I think Governors tend to have a bit of an advantage compared to legislators because they were chief executives of their respective states and have a better sense of the structure of the job (on a much smaller scale), with their roles as administrator, commander-in-chief of military forces (Governors are commanders-in-chief of their state National Guard forces), with numerous executive departments reporting to them, etc. But it's still so much more intense than even the most populous states, and every President wants to hit the ground running on Inauguration Day, but they quickly discover that the world doesn't stop spinning just so they can get started. The problems that reach the President's desk usually tend to be those that everyone else has already tried to tackle without success and now the President is often the only person in the country -- and sometimes even the world -- who is left to make a decision about solving them. And those are the things that start popping up as soon as the President takes the oath of office, and they don't stop until the next person takes over.

I imagine that the best preparation for the modern Presidency is having a diverse collection of career -- and real-life -- experiences rather than a certain job. I know he was only a one-term President, but someone like George H.W. Bush probably had a much easier time settling into the job because he was a combat veteran as a fighter pilot in World War II, a businessman, Congressman, a diplomat, a CIA Director, and a two-term Vice President, than his son, George W. Bush or his successor, Bill Clinton, who were both Governors but relatively inexperienced outside of their careers in state politics.

In A Promised Land (BOOK | KINDLE | AUDIO), Barack Obama writes that one of the challenges about the Presidency is that "It wasn't simply that each decision I made was essentially a high-stakes wager; it was the fact that unlike in poker, where a player expects and can afford to lose a few big hands even on the way to a winning night, a single mishap could cost a life, and overwhelm -- both in the political press and in my own heart -- whatever broader objective I might have achieved."

It takes Presidents a while to understand that -- and some don't ever recognize it in time to get re-elected. They all have their own political ideologies and agendas and hopes and dreams, and when they are elected, they immediately start thinking about all of those things that they plan to do once they are inaugurated. But they also have to practically build and staff an entire branch of the federal government from the ground up-- particularly if they are succeeding an Administration from the opposing party -- in two months that can be ready to run the country from Day One. And then there is everything that is going on or might be going on or will be going on around the world. And they have a Legislative Branch and a Judicial Branch to work with, which will not necessarily be harmonious or even the least bit helpful. And in this century, we're also usually in the midst of at least one war (not to mention the military conflicts of other countries) or a dangerous national/international economic climate -- along with the damaged and rapidly changing actual climate. So, all of the President's plans and hopes and dreams and agendas start taking a backseat to everything else as soon as they raise their right hand and repeat the oath on January 20th. But they still have to accomplish what they set out to do. And if they DO accomplish it, they have to sell it to the country, so that everyone realizes that they actually DID accomplish something. And, again, all this starts the moment they take office and doesn't pause and doesn't end until they move out of the White House.

So, yeah, there's nothing to really get someone ready for that.

#History #Presidency #Presidents #POTUS #Presidential Experience #Presidential History #Being President

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hccn-overseer · 1 year

Text

Issue 2, 4/26/2023 - The Overseer

Issue Masterpost About the Overseer

This week in the Hermiticitzen Hub has been nothing less than eventful! Citizen numbers are still growing, having reached above 600 as of the writing. Voting for music bots have opened, with Pancake immediately taking the lead and winning the race! Go enjoy your pancakes and music in #music-commands. There have been debates about hiring Quinn and Joe Hills, as that would be lovely, however that seems to be out of the Hermitcitizen's grasp, for now.

In addition to this week's news, The Hermitcitizen Grapevine is also now up and reporting stories about your fellow citizens. Go check them out at @hccn-grapevine!

Have a lovely week and respect your fellow hermitcitizens!

Warden Accidents: How to Deal With Them

By Lee

A week ago, an accident happened regarding a Warden. A prank on Hermitcraft's most masterful prankster, Grian, was done by the GGG via placing multiple Wardens on his base. However, one of the Wardens was accidentally aggravated and followed one of the pranksters to the Shopping District. This caused havoc and death for many of the players alongside those who tried to help. After much struggle, it was finally slain by Patch9649.

There have been many accidents regarding Wardens. This is just one of the most recent incidents. In this article, a list of tips will be given on how to deal with them. To have concrete advice for those reading, I interviewed an expert Warden wrangler from Decked Out named Glypharia who agreed on an interview about wrangling Wardens.

1. The More People, the Merrier.

If you decide to wrangle Wardens, it’s always best to have people with you to help you out in moving not only the Warden, but also due to other factors that would be a struggle dealing on your own. It’s not the best idea to wrangle one on your own due to its dangers and risk of losing inventory.

There is not a specific amount of people really needed, other than that it should be more than yourself.

2. Snowballs, Always Have Snowballs on Hand

Whether it be Warden wrangling or simply getting away from Wardens in the Deep Dark, Snowballs are one of your most important tools needed in your inventory, to the point that it was mentioned not once, but thrice in the interview due to how important they are.

Simply throw the snowball away from your direction and it will be distracted by the sound, letting you get away or making the Warden go to a certain area that you want it to go to in an easier manner

3. Wool Paths and Swift Sneak Are Your Saviors

Added to the second tip, wool paths are extremely important if you want to make a quick getaway or simply want to have a safe place to walk across on without being noticed by a Warden (especially if it is after wrangling one, as to make sure it does not follow you).

Swift Sneak in your leggings or pants armor is also a good way to help you sneak away from a Warden. It helps in making you go faster while sneaking, which is good for those who at times get antsy with how slow sneaking may be.

4. Deal With Mobs First

Glypharia suggests that it’s best to deal with mobs first when wrangling a Warden, as it makes things easier for the wrangler and ensures that they do not get distracted from moving the Warden due to mobs attacking them. That would make things much more difficult and more prone to respawning multiple times and losing your stuff. Light up the place or have others continue to deal with the mobs so that you and the remaining people can focus on wrangling.

It’s also good to be rapidly moving backwards, but to make sure not to put yourself between a wall and the wall. They say from personal experience it is a bad idea.

5. Do It One by One, Be Patient

If there are multiple Wardens to be wrangled, do it one by one. It is way safer to do so than doing it all at once, as it lets you put all your focus on each individually, just in case something goes extremely wrong and it needs to be quickly fixed.

Wrangling all the Wardens at once will cause more accidents, more deaths and more despawned inventory, so it’s best to do it one at a time.

Those are all the tips given, and we hope this helps you out in the near future. Just remember to keep quiet and be careful. If not, you’re more likely to lose all your inventory and get several death messages in global chat for all to see.

Now onto other news below the cut!

Hermitcraft’s Top 10 Most Dangerous Places

By Virtual

We all know that Hermitcraft is the pinnacle of Minecraft server safety, but in such absolutely secure lands, one must wonder about the places on the server that are a bit more… exciting. For this week’s issue, we’re breaking down the top ten most dangerous places on the Hermitcraft Season 9 server.

(Note: This list is not to be used as a travel guide. Travel guides for dangerous places can be found in the Shopping District next to the Empires brochures.)

(Note 2: Electric Boogaloo: The danger level of this list is not in order. Danger level fluctuates by the hour and may go up or down depending on if Grian is online.)

Decked Out Decked Out is a legendary feat of redstone engineering. It is also a death trap. Out of 456 ravager deaths reported this week, 375 occurred within the bowels of Decked Out. We would like to remind the unpaid interns living in Tango’s walls that the ravagers, though friend shaped, are not for cuddling.

Spawn Ghasts in the sky, Wardens on the ground, and only a matter of time before something is in the water, Spawn Town is a favorite holding spot and dumping ground for any dangerous mobs people happen to be carrying around. In addition, it is a certified Not Scar Safe area.

Scarland Studies show that the moment you step within render distance of Scarland that your chances of being Hotguy-ed go up by 67%. Do not let the beautiful facades, fun rides, Jellie-themed popcorn, kind balloon vendors, dubiously employed tour guides, and path-eating security guards lull you into a false sense of security. Hotguy has been known to frequent the skies above Scarland for reasons unknown to those of us at The Overseer, and he tends to make target practice out of staff and visitors alike. If you hear a distant call of “Hotguy,” duck and cover. We would say to avoid the area, but the view of Main Street may be worth a respawn.

Doc’s… Whole Thing We’re not sure what he’s doing. DocM77 is a mystery not even the devs could unravel. If you want to catch sight of anything that this weird creeper goat man has been up to, remember to wear your best helmet and leave before the radiation poisoning sets in. The Perimeter is an astonishing sight, but it is also radioactive, explosive, and filled with bosses. Enter at your own risk.

The Shopping District The Shopping District is the lifeblood of the server. Citizens come to this hub to buy materials, relax at the coffee shop, and sell their wares to their fellow citizens. The Shopping District is also radioactive, explosive, and full of Wardens. We’re also not sure what the entity is, but it’s probably dangerous. Get your concrete and get out as fast as you can.

Decked Out Many incidents have been reported of staff getting caught in the machinery and pursued by Vexes. This is bad for both the machinery and your inventory health. Please report all Vex and Evoker related deaths. (Somebody completely unrelated to the newspaper, with no conflicting interests whatsoever, has made a bet that Vex-related accidents will outnumber Warden-related accidents in the next issue.)

Grian’s Weird Robot Dungeon We’re not quite sure of the extent that Grumbot’s cavern actually exists on this plane, but your own likelihood of existing drops drastically the moment you dip beneath the sculk tunnel and catch sight of Grumbot and the Rift. The evilness of both Grumbot and the Rift is still up for debate, but we can confirm that touching either of them is a gamble of your mortal soul. Furthermore, we are looking for people who know how to get someone out from behind the Rift, as all attempts at freeing Grian’s employee have thus far been unsuccessful.

The Nether Hub Essential to traveling the far reaches of Hermitcraft, but dangerous nonetheless. Though free of the hellish monsters and flaming pitfalls typical of the Nether, this area has a secret weapon up its sleeve: Lag. If you don’t want to lose your items to kinetic energy a thousand blocks away from your spawn point, and then die again because you got distracted by the time-stopping creeper, then we suggest flying through the Overworld instead.

Gem’s Base While the base itself is lovely, we must remind citizens that, no matter how charming she is, to stop accepting duels from GeminiTay. You will lose, and your head will be added to her collection. Learn from the mistakes of Ethoslab, dear citizens, and walk away from a fight.

Zedaph’s Base Entering Zedaph’s base is a lesson in the odd and whimsical. You will see wonders unlike anything you’ve ever known. Dangling horses, flying melons, and rainbow beacons enchant all those who come across them. This is not where the danger lies. Entering Zedaph’s base could involve you in Zedvancements, which are likely to end up with you or someone you know exploding, as creepers, TNT, fireworks, and lightning bolts are often involved. This also increases your chances to get a Zedvancement trophy, which could be worth it. Approach with caution.

Honorable Mention:

Etho’s Base Despite the inherent danger of being anywhere near this mad genius, Mr. Etho S. Lab has been unable to beat back the washed up allegations. Though the honorable Bdubs has attempted to help him, Mr. Slab has been absolutely destroyed. From all of us here at The Overseer, we wish him a swift recovery.

Astrology Corner

By Corundumcat

Have you been feeling without guidance? Do you look at your birthday and look up your star sign and wonder, “Does this mean anything?” Don’t worry, here at The Overseer, we can help you.*

Aries: You have just found out that you will be paid by whoever you are aligned to. However, if you are born on the odd day of the month, you will have to go on a Warden clean up.

Taurus: This week you will be very productive. This is not in a negative or positive light. Get a lot done.

Gemini: It will rain inside where you go. You’ve annoyed someone this week.

Cancer: You will start a war at Beast #003’s funeral. :0

Leo: One day this week, you will take part in an ethical experiment and be forced to sign an NDA. Don’t worry. This will happen again next year.

Virgo: This week you will start an investigation into who let the Wardens out.

Libra: You will find out some great news. Someone you know has obtained a child.

Scorpio: You will be shot by Hot Guy for standing still in iBuy. (It rhymes.)

Sagittarius: You will have a week to remember. It will be a week. Flip a TCG token to determine the outcome. Heads are good, tails are bad.

Capricorn: You will get to see the stars up close and personal. Take that how you will.

Aquarius: You will get to commit one(1) act of pranking, you get to choose the scale of it.

Pisces: You will see a horrifying vision. That vision is Beast #003 being kidnapped. When you come to, you will figure out that you saw the past. Given that you saw this, you now must go to the funeral of Beast #003.

All star signs: Don’t worry, you are not being watched… yet.

*Ignore how blatantly specific these are. Nothing bad will happen to you.

From the Sidelines

by StarryFelix Cats and Pearl-affiliates

Who doesn’t like cats? That seems to have been the thought someone had when changing all things they could to cat related names on the server this week. The mischievous little furballs of which we know GoodTimesWithScar to be a big fan (we all also love you very much Jellie) have taken over specifically the moderator role names! As someone who is now dubbed a trial-meowderator it was an interesting return on the server after this was changed. Allegedly (read: we got an immediate admittance of trying to catgirl-ify the server) this was done by someone with a plant related name…

Honestly, just wandering around seems to be giving me a lot of odd impressions of what continues to go on on the server, even if I have been wandering around since season 6. You’d almost say nothing would surprise me anymore, however the people working and living around Pearl’s place have started calling her just “She <3” . This phenomenon has been going on for quite a while now. I have to agree that that is indeed a very correct way to describe her, I am however not sure what Star Soup and Nebulas in soup colours are supposed to mean, maybe I will be able to figure that out by observing them more closely. They seem friendly! Albeit a little supportive of Pearl committing war crimes in the life-series…

That was it for me for this week, as I have to rush off someplace else, but maybe this column will return with some more insights and observations of the different groups and beings running around on this server.

P.S. Please don’t forget to remind your Hermit/boss to eat this week! And make sure to tell them Sculk is not good food to consume, we don’t want another Cub-situation.

Lost and Found

By Virtual

The following items and chest monsters were found across the server, and nobody knows who they belong to. If you recognize one of these as yours, please contact The Overseer’s lost and found office at (fake email here ig)

Item 1: A Hotguy bow, found on top of The Entity All attempts to contact Hotguy about this bow have been met with radio silence, and since citizens are being Hotguy-ed as normal, we assume that he has found a suitable replacement, or this bow was never his to begin with. If you are in need of a bow or Hotguy memorabilia, collect this item within the next week, or we’re keeping it.

Item 2: A chest monster made of exclusively purple shulker boxes, found below Joe Hills’ pinball machine. Joe Hills has denied any ownership or knowledge of this chest monster, and has handed it off to The Overseer office. Within the shulker boxes are several stacks of end stone, seven pairs of nearly-broken golden boots, twelve feathers, and a block of obsidian. If this chest monster belongs to you, please pick it up from The Overseer office, as the boxes have taken over all available desk space.

Item 3: A spyglass renamed “Peekaboo” and enchanted with Curse of Vanishing, found on the doorstep to The Overseer office. The intended recipient of the telescope is unknown, and since it was not addressed to our office, we can only assume it was not meant for us to receive. When in the same room as the telescope for too long, a palpable feeling of being watched settles over your shoulders. Attempts to cover the telescope do nothing to diminish this effect, and we have settled on keeping it inside of Item 2. If “Peekaboo” belongs to you, we will pay you to take it.

META REPORT: MONO-PRANKSTER

Written by Arsène

The deck that everyone’s been talking about (especially when it comes to potential nerfs and building around), Mono-Prankster has been a definite set that has single-handedly changed the way tournaments rule for deck-building. Now, with the current 42 token-cost rule for fan games, and the upcoming limit on the number of rare Hermits that can be put into the deck, it’ll look very different from how it may have over the last few weeks of play. I’m here to deep dive with you into a current state of it, the point of the deck, and why it’s been so strong recently!

DECK LIST ( ® denotes a rare version of the card in the case of hermits!)

Grian ® x1

Mumbo ® x3

Stress ® x2

Gold Armor x3

Mending x3

Milk Bucket x1

Water Bucket x2

Iron Armor x1

Knockback x3

Looting x2

Chorus Fruit x1

Curse of Vanishing x1

Lead x1

Double Prankster x4

Prankster x14

PLAYING THE DECK

When building and playing a deck, I like to look at three different factors, and Mono-Prankster delivers on three fronts. Versatility, Consistency, and Win Conditions.

The deck has many different tools at your disposal for forcing opponents into poor positions off the bat, running three Knockbacks, Curse of Vanishing, and Lasso. All three, with opportune use (and potentially with the effects of Mending up to do it again) can easily put the opponent on the backfoot, forcing them to rely on an AFK hermit instead of the main one they may have already set up on. The deck also runs defensive options in three Gold Armor and Iron Armor, meaning that you’ll most likely draw into at least one, and with how much HP all three of your Hermits have, there’s good options for all of them.

The deck is certainly not short on win conditions, with Mumbo ® having a very strong second attack for only two Prankster items. Quite Simple, with good luck, has potential to sweep a game when you have another Hermit on board with him. However, consider using Moustache if you are in a position where you do not need to push, whether it be trying to do consistent chip damage and set up a quick double knock-out with Knockback or guarantee a knockout to Chorus Fruit into another Hermit who can swiftly take a kill, like Stress ®.

Speaking of Stress ®, this is your finisher if you have her on board. A well-timed Chorus Fruit into YOLO when you’re ahead can guarantee a win, whether it be completely knocking out the opponent’s board or taking their last life. Just be careful, as taking yourself out also means that the three Prankster blocks put on her are gone with her. Consider solely using YOLO as a finisher, as a strong tempo move when you are up a heart, or if there is a high-priority target on the board that needs to be dealt with.

Lastly, the main kicker in the deck for defensive prowess and potential, Grian ®. Grian tends to be my target for my double Pranksters, since Borrow is not only a strong offensive tool against opponents running armors or strong upholding effects like Mending, but also great for offensive plays. Because the Hermits in this deck take up so many token spaces, we do not have room for good defensive cards like Diamond Armor, so a well-timed Borrow from Grian on a Diamond Armor lets you take it for yourself.

The deck has a few floating cards, mainly in Milk Bucket and Water Bucket (x2), so if you’re playing into a definite matchup in which you are not worried about fire or poison, these can safely be rotated out for other strong single-use effects, such as Invisibility Potion or another Looting.

Expect more changes to the deck through the upcoming weeks, whether it be through changing game mechanics like token costs or limits on how many rares can be put in a deck, or direct nerfs to cards that make Prankster worthwhile. Also, word through the street says that a new set may be hitting us soon that might work to heavily counter the Prankster strategy! For now, though, Mono-Prankster is a strong option for people wanting to learn the game, provided you get lucky enough to pull the cards from the trading packs offered around the server! Good luck, and may you forever draw your Mumbos on turn one!

Who is Hot Guy?

By Corundumcat

Who is Hotguy? Many citizens wonder this day in and day out. We all know for certain that Hotguy is … something. Shooting the workers in Scarland, shooting those who stay still for too long, it's hard to figure out the truth from the lies. Here are the top 5 theories on who it is and one theory on who it isn’t.

THEORY NUMBER 1: Grian. Some might recall a few years ago that, to the shock of the citizens, Grian was revealed to be Poultry Man. Now you may be wondering, didn't he get tired of the Vigilante stuff? And I raise you the point of what if he decided he wanted to start something. What if he saw how Scar was having such a wonderful time and why can’t he have some fun. It was rumoured that he became a single dad for a while, so why not while Grumbot was asleep he started this life of crime. We have never seen Grian and Hotguy in the same room together.

Theory Number 2: Joehills You all know how Joe Hills doesn’t go for all the LARPing. He never fully commits to the bit. Except for one time. Remember when there was the universe wide beauty contest? Remember how he put up posters which none of us had seen before. Honestly it shocked us all that he could come out of the woodwork and do some Lore. The thing is, he won that contest. He won the beauty contest. Hence the name of this persona, Hotguy. Also, have you met the guy? Joe Hills NEVER gets shot by Hotguy. Either they are friends OR Joe Hills is Hotguy.

Theory Number 3: Cub Have you met Cub? Cub loves to cause chaos. Heck, he even has a game called Total Chaos. Hotguy has caused so much chaos that it only seems fitting. One citizen brought up the point of Hotguy having Vex Wings. I know Hotguy has vex wings. ‘Shame he didn’t match his wings. I feel like I also need to point out, they have the same hair colour. Remember, once you take off the glasses you are a completely different person.

Theory 4: Yes. It’s every Hermit EXCEPT Scar One theory that was brought up is that it's everyone but Scar. It would explain why Hotguy has changed targets AND has different ways of aiming. We have seen Scar in the same room as Hotguy, so it can’t be him. Hotguy changes height all the time, who knows what they are doing and who they are. Only the Hermits know.

Theory Number 5: ZloyXp Have you met Zloy? Zloy works their way around town convincing people to video for them but never videos Hotguy. ‘Seems suspicious, never getting the Recap team to video Hotguy. How strange. Also, a few of the team have said that Zloy is never at their desk when Hotguy is committing crimes too horrible to mention in this newspaper. Perhaps Zloy got tired of recapping everyone else’s story and is finally writing their own?

Theory Number 6: Scar is not Hotguy. Scar is not Hotguy. He never was. Have you met him? He is such a sweetheart, and a clutz. He always checks in on everyone, making sure they are ok after the villain tries to rip the server apart. A few Scarland residents saw him pick up a bow and almost drop it on his foot. Why would Scar attack his own residents? Scar wants Scarland to be the Happiest Place on the server and Hotguy is ruining that. Another thing is that he came second place in the beauty contest without campaigning. I do believe he was nominated as beauty of the heart. He has even started having Hotguy evacuation zones.

Decked Out 2 Workplace Conditions

By Nes

Spurred on by rumours of Decked Out 2 workers going without pay from their employer, Tango Tek, the Overseer launched an investigation into working conditions at the beloved minigame. Seven of the twenty workers currently employed at the site volunteered for an interview, with their answers bringing new light to the situation. However, it’s questionable if their answers quelled our worries or only made them worse.

Of the seven workers interviewed, none of them could confidently say they were officially employed by Tango Tek. The closest to a solid ‘Yes’ regarding being employed was from Golden Latina, stating “I would hope so, unless he thinks a ghost is working the effects. So, yes.” Other answers varied from definite no’s, to maybe’s and unsure’s. This raises many questions concerning if they’re entitled to payment seeing as they don’t seem to legally be employed at the location or by the owner.

Regardless of if they’re employed or not, it is important to note the conditions they are working under. While the majority of those interviewed said they made their own schedule, it seems the workers are just as obsessed with the game as their alleged boss. Of the seven interviewed, two said they had a good work-life balance, two would have good work-life balances if not for other duties outside of their alleged employment at Decked Out 2, and the remaining three could have a good balance if they weren’t workaholics. Despite the concerning lack of personal time outside of work, it does not appear to be an issue caused by the employer but rather the workers needing a lesson in self-care.

Returning to what spurred this research in the first place, and the answer all of Hermitcraft is hoping to be answered today, do the alleged Decked Out 2 Employees get paid? No. Of the seven I spoke with, zero were being paid, with four not minding the lack of payment. Shadowscome presented an interesting perspective on the lack of payment, discussing in length the logistics of being paid by the brokest man on the server. When asked if there were plans to acquire payment for their work, Shadow said this: “Tango would have to start charging a fee to play DO if he were to gather enough diamonds to pay us all... and that would make the game unfair, so I don't think so.” Another worker, RedFeather, commented that “The wranglers deserve hazard pay, at least…”

Not enough information was gathered to comment on the effects that lack of payment has had on employees outside of the workplace.

In conclusion, Decked Out 2 workers appear to have a friendly and tight-knit work environment. However, it’s questionable if the workers are even employed. Most agreed that Tango Tek is aware of their presence, but no official employee documentation has ever been signed or submitted. Due to this lack of official employment, it is debatable if the crew at Decked Out 2 is even eligible for pay, which is unfortunate considering the amount of work many have put in fixing redstone, building rooms, and caring for the ravagers and soon-to-be Wardens being housed at the minigame.

Ask The Seers

Needing lovelorn advice? Having nightmares you don't understand? Being followed by Horrors you cannot stand? Come tell The Seers Now, and take the weight off your shoulders! A burden is always light if it is carried by more people. Inquiries are accepted via the ask box and are collected every Monday!

Dear The Seers, Everyone wants to know, WHO are The Seers? - Inquisitive In Overseer HQ

Hey! I'm Seer Jester, she/it, plus neos to taste, and The Seers are... Well, let's find out, shall we? This'll be fun.

The Seers are visionaries who know the secrets you wanna keep hidden. And when we don't, we promise it's just a matter of time. You may call me Seer S, it/its pronouns, your local messenger.

Who are The Seers? Well, to be honest, we’re just a bunch of cryptic gossips. I’m Vindemiatrix, though you may call me Seer Vi, any and all pronouns. From my time working with Hermitcraft’s resident mad scientist (no, not that one, no not the other one, it’s Zedaph, for goodness sake) I’ve had to come up with my fair share of creative answers to strange problems. So if you want to hear all of your options, I’m your Seer.

The Seers are actually just four people not qualified for this job, which makes us the perfect people to have these positions. Me, personally? I’m Seer Nes. I go by She/They/He pronouns and am a master of terrible jokes, not having a sleep schedule, and not having a life. I will give you the worst advice possible, Hermits honour!

- The Seers

I fell down a hole Hi The Seers, I fell down a hole and was near the Perimeter. How do I get out of this situation? I was supposed to go the Beast #003 funeral. - Stuck In A Hole

Hi Stuck In A Hole, I have good news and bad news! Good news is you’ll still make it to Beast #003’s funeral, bad news is the only way out is via respawn so you too will be having a funeral very soon. Sorry about that! - The Seers

Dear Overseer, How does one deal with the shock of a fully formed building popping up overnight, right in your own backyard? - A Very Confused And Mildly Concerned Citizen

Dear Confused in Construction: Ah, just moved in? It can be disorienting at first to see your landscape changed so dramatically - but it's all part of the local charm! I would suggest watching the constructions during the timelapse - just look around when you hear the music - and then go poke around later and explore, get more familiar with this new structure in your environment. Pretty soon it'll feel like it was there all along! If it being right in your backyard is the issue, just work around it. Or move your house several blocks in any direction, if that's an option. Also, a fence around anywhere you wish to keep your own could help discourage people from placing structures in it, as (most?) builders will respect a clearly delineated claim. Best of luck! - The Seers

ADVERTISEMENTS

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All Hermitcitizens are cordially invited to the wedding of The Evil Goblin and Azalea! We’ve been eagerly awaiting this celebration for quite some time and are thrilled the event is finally going down

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Are you in need of a Piglin trading hall but don’t want to build one? Well, you’re in luck! Our friendly neighbourhood Piglin Geek, has a trading hall in the west tunnel of the Astral Library! Bring your gold over and she’ll give you some goods!

—————————————————

Do you think your boss doesn’t pay you or give you workers rights? Find Corundumcat in the Astral library! They will be happy to help you.

—————————————————

Hey, you - YES, YOU. Are you in the market for a little trouble? Do you enjoy stirring up danger? Well then, join the Scar Unsafe Services (SUS)!! We are a brilliant group working to make sure that Hermitcraft keeps everyone on their toes!

—————————————————

There’s a sale going on at the Enchantea Shop! Bring some daisies and your favourite book on the 28th to enjoy some of the best tea on the server!

—————————————————

Unfortunately, Decked Out’s Ravager #003 was tragically killed by Melody on April 21st as an act of self defense. The funeral will be hosted at the shopping district on Saturday the 29th. #003 was loved dearly by everyone at DO2, had the highest kill count out of all the ravagers, always had a braided tail, was a wonderful picnic guest when not committing murder, and was definitely a ravager!

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Created by The Lamb Sauce

Fun and Games

And now some fun and games brought to you by Sirius for the crossword and wordsearch and Morph for the coloring page yet again, as well as Azure adding another coloring page as well!

Coloring pages:

Transparent versions

Thank you to Snuffy for this week's comic!

And that’s all for this issue folks! Thank you so much for reading, and have a wonderful week!

#issue #hermitcitizen #hccn astrology corner #hccn lost and found #hccn ask the seers #hccn advertisements #hccn fun and games

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eat-the-richard · 5 months

Text

Utterly Obsessed With The Schlatt My Way Cover Because AI Is Fucking Losing

youtube

I think I've listened to this cover every day since its come out. A little bit strange since I'm not even the biggest fan of Sinatra, or Schlatt anymore for that matter. Nothing personal to the both of them, just not really my thing. But the implication of this cover is genuinely awe-inspiring in a way I still don't really have the words for.

AI disrupted a lot of industries this year. But none I feel took at as personally as the arts. Seemingly every day from all walks of the artistic palette, we say a regurgitation of infinite works from infinite possible sources. Every individual thought could become a strange, off putting yet still generally accurate piece of art. Entire animations were mushed through filter after filter to resemble styles of artists long dead and studios long dissolved. And, of course, internet micro celebrities with nary a song to their name have covered every song in existence.

Truly a tool for our perverted content age, AI has already been used, abused, run through its paces and spat back out. Quality be damned, these pieces of art could now *just* exist without talent or performance. Impressive, in a way, but terrifying in many more.

Not even to mention the numerous individuals dedicating their lives to their craft, becoming experts in their chosen field and deserving to make a well and honest living through their creations, suddenly finding themselves competing with a bastardization of their life's work annihilating them at a pace they can't match. But these AI advancements have potential to *stunt* potential. Why train your voice to simulate a musical instrument when you can upload thousands of voice samples to a tool and use that to sing any song imaginable? Why study a style of a given artist when their work can be morphed into an idea you just thought of two minutes ago?

Dangers such as these scare the shit out of me. Because art is all we have left, in a way. Nobody *should* be able to take this away from you, although god damn they have tried. Training the self to create expression in whatever way you please, even if it isn't financially viable, even if you can't do it as quickly or in the style that everyone wants, even if you kind of hate what comes out on the other side, it's still *you*.

AI can express. But there is no self. Its tools built on the works of countless others and rapidly expanding ways to sort them. Inherently plagiarist, AI works treat the heart crucial to the success of all art as disposable. Impressive AI works cannot be attributed to the idea, or the person responsible for clicking the button. Merely to the tool developed over years of work seemingly incongruent with art, for uses that should have nothing to do with art, plastered over the creation of art anyway by those who do not care.

This is all to say that jschlatt, who has had to sit there and watch his face, his voice, his very likeness flattened, used to create art he had no say in or control over, was able to take that control back. Undoubtedly, Schlatt has had some vocal lessons or *something* to get this sounding so polished, but the actual quality isn't why this is so impressive. It's impressive because *it's him*.

The reaction to this cover has been universally positive. Folks who were shocked Schlatt was able to pull this off. Those wanting more music from him in the future. But the single most apparent sentiment in the reaction was joy, glee even, in that this was *not* AI. This was his voice, flaws be damned, experience be damned, performance style be damned. This is him, and he put his *heart* into it. And you can feel that emotion pulsing through this cover, an attention to detail to respect the original work by trying to match its intricacies. Clearly exhibiting strain to hit the iconic high notes and long vibrato this legendary song is known for. No AI, no bullshit, this is *him.*

And the people love it. There is no replacement for the genuine article. AI is fucking losing.

#ai #fuck ai everything #jschlatt #dumping words onto tumblr today #Youtube

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thomasschabot · 1 year

Text

find myself running home to you

thomas chabot x fem!reader

for thomas, big wins don’t always have to be celebrated in flashy ways

word count: 2.5k

warnings: cursing

a/n: first fic in almost five months, what’s good? this is extremely niche content but i simply do not care 😌

⭑⭒⭑

Ottawa offers enveloping anonymity and you love it.

It’s a city with too much going on governmentally for people to care about hockey all that much, but the loyal handfuls still respect the privacy of those in the organization and leave them alone, save for the rare time a child asks to take a picture with their favourite player. You’re thankful this is where your roots are extending, settling into the suburbs and occasionally winding their way down Dalhousie into the heart of the Market for a night out. No one bothers you, even when you’re out with Thomas, and it’s the thing that will keep you from ever leaving. The future of a professional athlete is unpredictable, you know, but you’ll fight your boyfriend tooth and nail if he ever wants to move somewhere else unless they’re offering him millions of more dollars and the same opportunity to live your lives publicly and without incident.

The fact that no one cares who you are allows you to sit in your favourite spot at the Canadian Tire Centre — a seat in the 300s directly across from the home bench so you can see everything Thomas experiences. He’s not particularly skilled at hiding his emotions, but you adore him because of it. Even when the two of you are arguing you know exactly how he feels, and it often leads to quicker resolutions because neither of you are afraid of communicating.

As you slide into your seat far away from the friends and family box, where many other significant others and their families are enjoying the game, the person sitting next to you gives a smile.

“Right choice of jersey there, eh?” the older gentleman laughs, gesturing to his back to show you’re wearing the same jersey.

It’s a Giroux reverse retro, with all the trimmings that made the 2007 cup run so spectacular even if G wasn’t anywhere near Ottawa, and it’s your most prized possession. Thomas had gifted it to you one random Sunday, and simply shrugged when you asked why. The smallest detail on the back is what makes it so special — a signature is on the bottom of the eight, along with a little smiley face.

“I like to think so,” you reply, smiling wide at the fact this man either doesn’t know who you are or doesn’t care. “And I think the boys are going to come out guns-a-blazing.”

You know this, of course, because the energy flowing through your home and the homes of other Senators has been electric through the holiday break, but you aren’t going to spill that secret. The man returns your grin tenfold. “I certainly hope so. I didn’t come all the way across the province in a snowstorm to watch them lose.”

⭒⭑⭒

Lose they do not. The Sens play their hearts out, keeping up with the slightly sloppy hockey Boston played. New teammates are becoming more and more like brothers as the seasons plods along, and it’s beginning to show — every single line has undeniable chemistry that’s palpable everywhere in the arena, including the press box. It’s all the beat reporters can write about, and the public can’t get enough of the content, allowing the guys to focus on playing hockey, which is what they do best.

The game is scoreless through a period and a half, and then the floodgates open. It’s a constant flip-flop of goals being scored, with neither team ever eeking ahead to grab a hold of the lead. Thomas continues to be the playmaker he is, passing when the time is right, connecting on clean hits, and eventually bagging an assist. It’s a relatively quiet third period, with most of the action happening in the neutral zone, but you’re on the edge of your seat as the clock winds down. Regulation ends with a tie, and you bounce your leg up and down rapidly while Thomas gets instructions from the coaching staff on how he should proceed through the first shift of overtime.

“Nervous?”

It’s your seat neighbour, eyes holding a look of fond curiosity. He’s showing no obvious signs of concern of distress, and truly looks like he’s going to enjoy what’s coming. “You look like you might puke.”

A small laugh bubbles from your throat. “I loathe OT,” you explain, “It’s so nerve wracking.”

“If you’re going to hurl, please try not to get it on my shoes. My daughter bought them for me as a Christmas gift with her first pay cheque.”

You don’t get a chance to respond, to assure him you won’t actually be sick despite the clamminess creeping into your skin, because the puck drops and the clock starts counting down. Five minutes is an awfully long time when there’s only three players a side and changes happen less frequently. Thomas is on the ice for nearly two minutes before he’s able to come off — somehow he has the puck more than anyone else, taking the occasional shot but mostly keeping it away from the rapidly tiring Boston forwards. You watch with bated breath, bracing yourself for the overwhelming emotions of elation or despair, depending on which net the puck lands in. To the surprise of almost everyone, Talbot stops every shot that comes his way, and the overtime period yields no results.

Before your friend for the night can even open his mouth you’re firing words out of your mouth so quickly they almost don’t make sense. “I fucking hate shootouts and they better win or lose before Chabby has to go up.”

It’s common knowledge that Thomas isn’t confident in shootout situations, and though he’s actively working on it, they only happen every-so-often. He can’t seem to muster the swagger of Brady or the pure skill of Tim, and opposing goalies can read him from miles away. You hope he doesn’t have to step up to the plate because you know if he’s the reason the team loses Thomas will hold it on his shoulders for weeks.

“Looks like it’ll be DeBrincat, Stütlze, and Batherson.” You barely hear what’s being said to you, ears ringing so loud it’s almost unbearable.

No air leaves your lungs as you watch Alex get ready. It’s only once his puck buries itself in the back of the net do you exhale, and even then it’s shallow — the lead could be nullified in a matter of seconds. Luckily it’s not, and you slowly return to your normal breathing pattern. Tim misses, but so does DeBrusk, and when Batherson narrowly misses victory is so close you can almost taste it. Never in your life have you wanted Patrice Bergeron to fumble so badly, and there’s a prick in your heart for wishing ill on one of Thomas’s friends, but you need the Senators to win. The team needs the confidence boost of beating the team with the best record in the entire league.

The ten seconds of Bergeron’s attempt pass in slow motion, and when Talbot closes his glove around the puck you’re out of your seat, jumping up and down and screaming at the top of your lungs. You can’t believe the team pulled it off, and you cheers the people around you with an empty water bottle you’ve been holding on to since the second intermission. As your boyfriend skates towards centre ice to celebrate with his teammates he raises his stick in your general direction — not knowing exactly where you are but knowing you’ll know who the gesture was for.

People don’t linger for long, wanting to try and beat the traffic, so you wish the man who kept you company safe travels as he sneaks past and watch the crowd disperse. You stay until the stars of the game take to the ice and chuckle when DeBrincat nearly trips over the bench on his way to the dressing room corridor. With a rapidly depopulating section and a clear pathway to the corridor that takes you down to ice level, you gather your jacket and walk at a leisurely pace. No one will bother you anyways if they do recognize your face from the occasional social media post, and you silently thank the late Bryan Murray for drafting Thomas to a city with such a respect for privacy.

Once you’re safely in the hallway outside the dressing room a small group of children swarm you. A couple of seasons ago you became the unofficial team sitter, offering your house up when exhausted parents needed a break, and the baby senators adore you. You pick them up and spin them around one at a time before giving a quick hug and suggesting they find their families so they can go home. There’s no sign of Thomas, but you don’t expect there to be, so you busy yourself by firing off a few texts to those who might want an update on your evening.

Wish you could have come! You send to your grandfather, who was supposed to make the journey up but came down with the flu.

Your mom gets Waiting to say goodnight to Tom before going home and calling it a night. The stress of all that extra time drained me lol!

Friends get some variation of Were you watching??! Holy shit and a few even get gifs that encapsulate your pride.

The shadow of your boyfriend appears from the doorway, and the tired smile that rises on his features at the sight of you makes your heart melt. Fresh out of the shower, Thomas smells like home, and you’re glad you decided to wait him out before travelling across the suburb to the house you’ve shared for nearly half a decade. Your arms find his waist and you hold him close, letting him place a kiss on your temple before pulling back to talk to him for the first time in hours.

“Hell of a game, eh?”

“Yeah,” Thomas smiles, “It was. Where did you sit today?”

“Near the front of 324,” you reply before reaching up to brush a stray hair behind his ear. “I’m beat. All that excitement gave me a few premature greys and zapped all my energy. Just wanted to say goodnight before I left since I can guarantee I’ll be asleep when you get home.”

He laughs, and you know it came from his stomach because it’s loud and strong. “You can’t wait up an extra thirty minutes for me? I just have a short media slot and then I’m out of here.”

Stubbornly you shake your head. “Go out and celebrate with the boys! You all deserve to relish the win and unwind a little. I think I overheard some of the girls say they wanted to make the trip downtown to Earl of Sussex once more before it closes.”

Thomas shakes his head almost feverishly, as if he’s afraid being casual won’t convey his distaste for being anywhere you aren’t. He places a chaste kiss to your lips before beginning to walk away, knowing Brady is going to give him shit for being late to their interview.

“I’ll see you at home sweetheart.”

⭑⭒⭑

You’re tucked away in the upstairs bathroom brushing your teeth when the door unlocks. It’s scary how fast Thomas got home, exactly thirty-five minutes after you left the arena, and you have no doubt speed limits were ignored.

“Tommy?” you call down the dimly lit staircase, “Can you bring me a glass of water when you come up?”

There’s no reply, but you hear the lightswitch in the kitchen flip on and the faucet running. Lights periodically turn on and off as he moves around the first floor, placing things in their proper spots and making sure the rooms remain tidy. If there’s one thing your boyfriend is, it’s someone who needs order and cleanliness. Footsteps finally pad up the stairs, muffled by the socks still on his feet, just as you’re pulling back the covers to slip under. It still takes Thomas a minute or two to enter the bedroom because he stops to use the washroom and hangs his suit with the growing collection in the hall closet that needs to go to the dry cleaners.

Head in a crossword puzzle and the glasses you only wear in the house slipping down the bridge of your nose, you offer a gentle smile when Thomas pulls the pyjama bottoms he’s worn for the past few nights out from under his pillow. Neither of you speak while he settles in beside you, grabbing the crime novel you got him for Christmas from his nightstand and tucking you into his side. Your head rests on his chest, and you hold the pen in your mouth when not filling in spaces so you can keep a chilled hand on his bare stomach because he’s the human embodiment of a furnace and you need to feel your fingers.

The dull hum of the ceiling fan is the only noise in the house beside the pair of you breathing in tandem. Occasionally there’s the sound of a page flipping, but Thomas reads at a slower pace than you and he keeps getting distracted by your grumbling about how the clues don’t make any sense.

“I think it’s agape,” Thomas offers with a shrug. “Nothing else fits.”

You shake your head a few too many times and end up knocking it on his shoulder. “I’ve tried but it doesn’t fit.” To demonstrate your point you ghost the pen over the blank boxes, not leaving a mark.

A laugh erupts from the body propping you up, and you feel it trickle down your spine. “That would be because you’re spelling it wrong.”

“Fuck.”

“You must be really tired.”

Instead of responding you let out a yawn, and it forces Thomas to follow. Without a word, you both put away your respective nighttime activities and turn off the lamps illuminating the room. Bathed in darkness you’re able to bury into the mountain of pillows you sleep with and close your eyes. The soft thumps of your boyfriend fluffing his pillows lets you know he’ll also be in deep slumber soon enough, and you don’t feel guilty about not extending the cuddle session. Sleep is a solo sport, and while you love Thomas to death you don’t want him constricting your movements in the night because his arms are too tight around you — luckily he agrees, and almost every night ends with a sweet kiss before you turn in your respective directions for the night.

As hell settles in for a night of deep rest, with the option to sleep in given a later call time for the travel to Washington, Thomas mumbles into the darkness, “Goodnight, mon chou.”

The term of endearment makes your stomach flutter for a split second before it rests there, blooming like a garden and warming your insides.

“Night, Tom. I love you.”

He’s already dozing off, and you doubt he comprehended what you said. You follow shortly after, a smile on your face as the realization sinks in that no matter how much of a high Thomas is running on with his career, he’d rather spend the downtime quietly with you than with anyone else.

⭒⭑⭒

enjoy this fic? give it a reblog :) <3

#thomas chabot imagine #thomas chabot x reader #thomas chabot fic #ottawa senators imagine #ottawa senators fic #nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey imagine #hockey fic #cwrites

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greenerteacups · 10 months

Note

Hello! I wanted to let you know how amazing your fic is, it seems my life now revolves around Friday mornings. I think it may be one of my favorite series ever, not just fics, your stuff is better than most published works I have read. I really could go on and on. Suffice to say, thank you x1 million for just putting this out there for us.

I had a couple curiosities! Is it ever hard to restrain yourself and just post 1 time per week? Or is that necessary for your creative process?

Also, your fic is rapidly growing in popularity, do you ever get worried about how that might change your audience?

Thank you again for the amazing thing you've written, I feel super lucky to be reading it in real time because I know this is going to be one of those legendary classics.

Thank you so much! You're wonderfully kind, I really appreciate it, and I hope I can live up to your expectations!

Weekly posting: Posting once a week is actually something I started for my own sanity — posting it regularly/serially is better for audience response, so there's a natural incentive to do it, but it also gives me more time to write ahead. And having all of a book prewritten in advance is really important for me creatively, not only so as to avoid the possibility of cliffhangers, but also to feel immune from the pressure to change the story based on what audiences want.

Growing audiences: Oof, it's been wild. I've been sort of boggled by the response to my little fic; it was entirely unexpected and the most I can do is work hard to deserve it. For the most part, an increasing audience has been a wonderful, wonderful thing, and I've been so grateful for everyone who's been offering support and praise. I'm seriously insanely lucky. My only point of frustration is that, in general, as a fic grows, readers seem to perceive increasing distance between themselves and the author. For instance, people in my comments have increasingly started to address each other instead of me, or have left comments seemingly without the expectation that I'll read them. But when someone comments on the fic, they're still sending that message directly to the author, and I think that some people might... well, they either don't know that, or they don't care. Like, the audience/author distance might be greater than it is for a fic with only 300 hits, but it's not like I'm a showrunner, or some other media production bigwig who'll probably never see 99% of the feedback generated by fans; it's still my pet project that I read basically every scrap of feedback for.

And sometimes (rarely — most of my comments are just so wonderful, and I don't want to sound ungrateful, but) people do say weird or unnecessary things. One comment for the last chapter read, "if krum dies im gonna drop this fic ngl," and that just irritated the hell out of me. Like, if that's your opinion, cool. Your reading habits are none of my business, and I sincerely encourage everyone who needs to take a break from Lionheart — or, hell, even loses interest — to go find something that sparks joy instead. Reading fic should bring you pleasure. No hard feelings, swear to God.

But my frustration with that comment, in particular, was: you do realize that you've sent that message directly to my inbox, right? You realize that was the first thing I read when I opened my comments section after a long afternoon of writing? Someone directly informing me, the author, that a narrative decision (which, either way, I already made about 4-5 months ago) will lose me a reader? And how does this person expect me to react? "Oh, no! I have to go back and rewrite 90,000 words of the story — God forbid I lose you, Single AO3 User Who Left No Other Comments! How can I live with myself if you're not here??"

It's just a bit frustrating. And, to the point — I say this politely, with respect — but if you seriously can't handle seeing characters die, then maybe don't read the fanfiction that's rewriting a series where very many characters die. Just a thought.

#someone left a similar comment after I posted Chapter 30 #which just made me roll my eyes #these clowns act like they're the author's personal muse #'unfortunately i am no longer enjoying your fic and i must stop reading' ok? have you mistaken me for your book club president?#anyway. thank you for a kind ask sorry it got salty at the end

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bus-stop-to-kpop · 2 years

Text

Kingom Reaction #1 - You have a Dating Rumor

(You are also an Idol in this one)

Requested?: No

Word Count: around 100 - 150 each

A/N: I really love Kingdom so it’s a little sad to see how little content there is on them, but fear not I’m here to give you a lot!

I realized that some of them might be more of a shipping scenario than an actual dating rumor, but I didn’t know what else to call it.

Either way have fun reading :) ~Admin J

Dann: You're a guest at his Radio show, Radio'n'Us, being sent to represent your group.

Viewers instantly managed to catch how well the two of you seemed to get along. Both of you were all smiley during the interview section, laughing at jokes the other made, no matter how bad they were.

They were also quick to notice the blush spreading across your cheeks whenever Dann complimented your voice. Since you were shy it always embarrassed you to get praised like that.

Of course you also took a picture together for the Instagram account of the radio and many pointed out how good you looked together.

And then there was also the post on your groups official account about how nice Dann had been to you and how much fun you had during the interview.

Obviously any sweet interaction like that would make the fans minds go wild with scenarios.

Arthur: Both of you are the main dancers of your respective groups so you were paired to do a performance together at one of the end of the year award shows.

Since both of you were passionate about dancing you wanted to make sure to give the audience an amazing performance. And you did.

After the performance many people commented how harmonious you looked while dancing and how it seemed like the two of you had been dancing together for years.

When the behind the scenes and dance practice videos came out netizens pointed out how well you got along, joking around with each other and just having fun in general.

It left everyone questioning if you were more than just project partners for this dance.

Mujin: You post a picture of you at the same location.

When you posted a picture of yourself on a walk at Han river you didn't think anything of it. Simply wanting your fans to know how you were spending your time off after just finishing your latest promotion.

Only for your phone to blow up with notifications, Mujin had also posted a picture at Han river the day prior.

Netizens immediately concluded that you must have gone on a walk together and took pictures of each other only to post it for your Lovestargram.

Even though Mujin and you opened up about it only being a coincidence, many fans still liked to believe the two of you were dating.

Louis: He used to be friends with your brother.

Him and your brother were both on the schools soccer team and used to be good friends, so he often came over to your house.

However once he became a trainee he lost touch with your brother.

He's surprised to suddenly see you a few feet away from him as he is waiting for the MC to announce the winner of today's music show.

Being the extroverted person he is, he approaches you when walking off stage, unaware that you were still in frame of the camera.

So your little interaction quickly sparked rumors.

Ivan: You accidentally bump into him at ISAC.

It wasn't on purpose obviously, you were simply too focused on interacting with your fans while walking backwards to notice Ivan's tall figure behind you.

Almost losing your balance Ivan wrapped an arm around you to make sure you didn't fall.

Fans at the venue would laugh about the way you were rapidly bowing while apologizing as Ivan tried to promise you it was completely fine and he was happy you didn't get hurt.

Pictures of Ivan's arm wrapped around you would later be taken out of context, spreading a rumor about how the two of you were obviously in love with each other, until someone released the full video of you bumping into him.

Hwon: You use similar phrases while communicating with fans.

Since it hasn't been long since his debut, he's still a little awkward when it comes to communicating with fans.

So he takes notes on how other idols act with their fandom.

He really likes the way you use your words, so he adapts some of your phrases for his weverse posts, like the way you wish people a good morning or good night.

Fans are quick to spot this.

Hwon is embarrassed about it, causing a rumor about the two of you so shortly after his official debut, he immediately stops trying to text like you and find his own style of communication.

Once he does, he realizes that sometimes you will use a phrase similar to his or just the same.

He's not sure if you're doing it unknowingly or if you're trying to poke fun at the rumors.

Jahan: You film a dance challenge together.

Due to promoting at the same time you were seeing each other quite frequently, so obviously he would take the chance and ask you to do their dance challenge with him.

He gives you the option to back out, not wanting to bother you, but you happily agree.

The next time you meet backstage you ask him to take part in your dance challenge in return. So you film the video and upload it soon after on your groups official account.

Seeing how Jahan and you already met twice backstage netizens start gossiping about what else could be happening when you meet backstage.

Maybe some Romance blossoming?

#kingdom #kingdom kpop #kingdom x reader #kingdom reaction #kingdom fanfic #kingdom scenarios #kingdom dann #kingdom arthur #kingdom mujin #kingdom louis #kingdom ivan #kingdom hwon #kingdom jahan #kingdom chiwoo #kpop #kpop kingdom #kpop reactions #kpop x reader

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crowley-the-1-true-king-of-hell · 1 year

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I fixed Dean's entry for Castiel in the MoL Bestiary

First purple: Like a child

I don't like an autism coded trait like seeing things literally being see as a child like trait. Because when Cas is seen like a child that means he gets less respect and faith in his ability

Second purple: Betrayed us

Bitch? Tf? When? He did nothing you didn't or wouldn't do yourself

Third purple: Left us

How dare Cas have the audacity to have a life outside of you and Sam I guess 🙄

Fourth purple: We will always have his back

Are you sure about that? Because it sure af didn't look that way in season 6. Sure it didn't work out, but you didn't side with Cas NOT because you can see the future and had a vision that it wouldn't work out. It's because you didn't like Cas working with Crowley

Hands up if Cas should get to write his own entry about Dean in the bestiary? But it has as much criticism in it as Dean's does if not more so?

I mean Bestiary is about animals both Supernatural and not Supernatural. Humans are animals

Are angels animals?

a living organism that feeds on organic matter, typically having specialized sense organs and nervous system and able to respond rapidly to stimuli.

Cas doesn't need to eat under ordinary circumstances so he's not an animal. But since his entry was written anyway then Dean and Sam really should be added as entries as well

Should be called "Supernatural beings" rather than bestiary

No no no make new vessel Crowley write Sam and Dean's entries. That would be amazing! Would have "morons" and "self-righteous" everywhere

Feathers wrote the previous entry about Squirrel and Moose. I've crossed out every Sam, Dean, my family and my brother/s and written "Moose" "Squirrel" and "moron" above that instead

I have to work quick though, before Feathers catches me editing his entry

Okay this is my entry

SQUIRREL AND MOOSE

Squirrel is a moody alcoholic and Moose has temper issues. They both come up with good ideas and have even outsmarted me but then when they open their mouth it's so moronic I wonder if God helped them? They've both caused so much collateral damage, and pain. But they think it's fine because they save one person every now and then. Anyway despite all that they are great big bloody heroes and unfortunately are a bad influence on me ...

I wish they wouldn't look down on Feathers when he loses his powers

Feelings >_<

This is my entry for Cas

FEATHERS

Cas is very powerful, very capable and very intelligent. Too many people, especially Squirrel underestimate him or look down on him. Even without powers he would be able to kick the candy out of most of his enemies

Feathers has been my partner in mischief! My enemy in arms! My hunter buddy! My crush! My kitten metaphorically speakinv

He is so magnificent I chose him over my revenge on Lucifer and I don't regret that decision

Feathers never gets boring unlike Squirrel. After six months with Demon Squirrel in a bar I wanted to tear off my own face

Right sorry this entry is about Feathers not my feelings! I got a bit carried away there. It was Feather's idea to fake my death and Feathers did a really good job lying to Moose and Squirrel. I was very proud that he had them fooled for two years!

He came up with so many good strategic ideas for getting monsters and he is amazing at torture! Better than me even. Which I may be a smidgen jealous about. I did teach him but he surpassed me

I also like ruffling his feathers because it's sexy when he slams me up against a wall

He did betray me but can you imagine if there were Leviathans running around in Hell? *Shudders* so it all worked out for the best. Beside he did apologize and he's too fun not to work with

I decided to forgive him and team up with him again because a life without Feathers is a boring one. Even Feathers as an enemy is better than no Feathers at all

Feathers has or used to have these powers

Entering human dreams. Okay so one day I was bored and I decided to give this human nightmares and Cas gave me the stare and turned my nightmare into a happy dream

So we were both trying to win the dream battle and well Cas won. Look he's an angel okay! He's meant to be stronger

Smiting demons

Telekinesis. Did you know he uses telekinesis just before a smite to stop a demon from teleporting away before the smite happens? Most demons can't teleport but on the off chance they can

He only bothers doing that if he means to kill the demon in a "hit list" sense rather than a "you're in my way" sense. I felt him holding onto me when I teamed up with Raphael but I wasn't worried because I had Raphael's protection

Teleportation. Okay so we would play this game where we had to teleport behind each other and tag each other. What you think spending two years together and it was nothing but business?

Time travel. I've been tempted to ask to be sent back in time myself but I've noticed how weak it makes him and I didn't want Cas to die but at the time I lied to myself and said it's because I didn't want my partner being too weak otherwise he's useless to me

His powers go above and beyond that so this will have to be continued at another date maybe

I've also enchanted my entry so none of those lot will be able to edit it or rip the page from the book

*A few hours later*

Crowley hears Dean yell "Crowley! What the hell is this? You son of a bitch!" as he points at his entry

Crowley smoothly responds "well that's an entry for you and Moose"

#castiel #dean critical #you know I was hoping this entry would be idk???#good? respectful?#but too much to ask for #supernatural #bitter cas girl feelings #Crowley spn #Crowstiel #sam critical #winchesters critical #I believe Crowley would write good stuff about Sam and Dean as well if we're being honest #But since this was me having fun I didnt want to dedicate my time to praising what #the boys are good at

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deepseavibez · 2 years

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Nerve_30 [V] || KNJ

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Nerve [Namjoon x Reader]

Prompt - @casnextdoor

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Part 30 - Finale [R]

Part 30 - Finale [V]

Part 30 - Finale [E]

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Genre - cheating; aftermath; husband au;

Summary - You would never expect it really. He’s doting. He’s sweet. He’s hardworking. But he’s forgotten his morals. Suspecting it is one thing, but when he confirms it, will you stay or walk away.

Warning - Cheating(Aftermath); Angst; Borderline Assault(Sexual); Attempted Sexual Assault(Aftermath); Explicit Sexual Implications; Heavy Angst; Anger; Anxiety; Overwhelming Feelings; Memories tied to a traumatic event; Psychological Trauma.; PTSD; Sadness; Emotional Hurt; Comfort; Panic; Dissociation; Self-deprecation; Angry/ Protective Namjoon;

Additional Warnings - Graphic Depiction of Sexual Assault; Rage; Hopelessness; Guilt; Self-loathing; Self-hate;

Word Count - 4.7k

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A/N - After every trauma, there's always the aftermath and in this au we are somewhat veterans of the 'after'.

It's quite concerning how much research it takes to depict something as real as this, even if some of the aspects are pulled from a past experience. It just goes to show how much of an impact something like this could have on someone.

Needless to say, our oc definitely deserves a bunch of happiness... but then... some of the best people, aren't meant to be happy.

We're almost to the end of this era of the Nerve Universe. I will be posting [E] and the Epilogue together, tomorrow.

xx Dee

Please note the following chapter contains a complete representation of OC’s current psyche and her mental state. PLEASE!! Proceed with caution as this whole update is a MAJOR trigger warning.

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It didn’t take much else for Namjoon to get you to listen to him. On your best of days, you could be stubborn and on your worst you could be illogical, but neither of those traits could cloud over the fact that Namjoon was solid ground. Namjoon was the Earth and the rain and hope and every sign of life you could truly respond to.

At that moment, nothing made sense, you felt so many emotions, and some part of you was still thinking ‘What the fuck? Did that just happen’.

It did. And tears leaked from your eyes each time you answered the question. Because it did. But really, were you overreacting a little? Maybe you were just exposed for who you truly were–a weak, oversensitive little girl. A fraudster that truly didn't deserve a voice. Not when you couldn't defend yourself.

It should just be another trauma to add to the list.

You didn’t return to the hall. You didn’t see Yuna or Ria or anyone else for that matter.

Yeon and Xan said nothing the whole way home. You sat with Namjoon at the back of the car, his fingers playing absently with a loose thread on your gloves. You couldn’t use your winter coat, and you couldn’t hold Namjoon’s hand because it felt… weird. Your skin was oversensitive.

None of the guys followed this time. It was you, your husband and your biggest fear of him losing any love for you.

When you got home, you stepped out with as much of your self-respect you could muster, and bid the two remaining members of your team farewell.

Then Namjoon took over your footsteps – all but dragging you behind him, through your house to your bedroom.

Before you knew it, you were standing in the middle of the master bathroom, holding your midsection as he crossed his arms and stared at you. You hated the physical distance. Ofcourse, you both knew you needed it, to think clearly, to breathe, but it still hurt.

You pulled your lips together, but tears stung your eyes anyway as you tried to close your head against the memories of the night.

‘Where?’

You internally shook off the question and blinked rapidly as you looked at the floor. ‘Can I just shower? Please?’

‘Y/n,’ he softly reprimanded when you didn’t move an inch.

‘Namjoon, please --,’

‘No. You’ll face it here, and now. With me. No more running. No giving it life.’ He made to rush at you, then stopped, his hand frozen in midair, giving himself a second, giving his actions a second thought. ‘You can’t be silent,’ his nostrils flared and he closed his hand into a fist before he dropped it. ‘I refuse to let it suffocate us, while a war happens inside you.’

Your eyes darted back and forth on the tiles. You felt trapped, like a cornered animal.

You knew Namjoon meant no harm; he was doing only what he knew. You calmed down when he smothered you, in hugs, affection, touching, kissing, his hands around your neck, your body under him… You found clarity in communication, in talking your feelings out, in making it real.

And making sure absolutely nothing got between you after the struggle your marriage had just gone through was Namjoon's priority.

And you understood. You really did. But…

Right now those tactics weren't working. It wasn’t working because he wanted you to talk about it, and you didn’t want to talk about it just yet. But if you didn’t, it would fester. That’s how it worked with you. Ripping the band aid off worked way better than coaxing and prodding would. Because you were the best at putting your pain in a chokehold, ignoring the fact that your lips were turning blue from the suffocation. But you still didn’t want to talk about it! You didn’t want to explain anything, for fear of Namjoon’s reaction.

How could you tell him? How could you tell him about Kwang, and his words and his actions and what he'd tried to do? How could you even begin to explain how horrifying it was to freeze in a moment where you needed yourself most?

And if you told him the truth, then what?

What if he didn't believe you? What if he thought you wanted it? Asked for it? What if he actually thought you were disgusting? What if he didn’t want you anymore? What if he thought that you were dirt—

‘Y/n!’ Namjoon’s voice exploded into your face, his hands on your upper arms.

You felt your eyes go wide and your body shook, but you couldn’t yell back. You opened your mouth, but no sound came out, save for a soft whimpering. You couldn’t breathe.

You looked at Namjoon and his lips were moving and words came out of his mouth, but you couldn’t hear him. You couldn’t breathe. You choked on nothing as you tried to consciously inhale and exhale but you couldn’t breathe!

You were moving. The floor fell away and you felt yourself falling and you couldn't stop it and you couldn't control it and you had nothing to hold onto and, and –

Frigid cold chased the heat off your spine out of nowhere and you finally took a sharp breath in.

‘Breathe, Y/n.’ You heard Namjoon’s voice from faraway. ‘Breathe for me.’

You felt his arms, a vice-like grip on your own forearms.

You inhaled and exhaled sharply, the blurry details coming into focus.

You were in the shower and your clothes were drenched, your boots and your pretty dress – the outfit that Taehyung had poured his soul into was ruined. He wouldn’t mind. But you did.

‘Y/n?’ Namjoon asked tentatively, as he kneeled in front of you, his own suit waterlogged. You searched his face. The tremble in his lips, the wetness at the edge of his eye, his wide eyes as his hands moved to close over your palm as he tried not to crowd you… nothing but fear for you etched in his features.

‘I’m okay.’ You nodded to assure him as you took deep shaky breaths. ‘I’m okay.’ You repeated the words, more for yourself.

The thoughts and fears all felt like a freight train ready to run you over, but you closed your eyes and pushed them away, focusing on the feel of Namjoon’s strong hands and the coldness of the water cascading over you.

Namjoon watched you until you returned to a somewhat normal state. Then and only then did he slowly grip your calf and pull it towards him. He watched you as he toyed with the zipper, silently asking permission.

You nodded your ascent.

When your boots and dress were in an unseemly pile on the floor outside the shower, he sat back on his heels.

His voice when he did speak again, broke your heart even more. ‘Tell me what to do.’

‘Don’t--,’ you said sharply. You almost screamed at the statement, because you were not a broken doll, and your marriage was not so weak that he had to ask such things. ‘Don’t, talk to me like that. Please. I’m not some victim that needs to be approached cautiously – especially not when it comes to you.’

‘Well, being forceful, gave you a panic attack.’

You almost smiled. Namjoon the ever-logical.

‘Being gentle makes you swipe, anyway.’ He continued. ‘So, you tell me what to do.’

‘What if I tell you to leave?’

It was an unnecessary challenge, but some petty part of you wanted to hear it out loud.

‘I will never leave you, y/n.’ He tentatively traced the back of his middle finger across your cheek. ’Especially not when you need me the most. I can’t.’ His last words were almost strangled out of him, like being there for you was his only option. The same two words you decreed to him on the dancefloor.

You let his statement sit, the meaning, the intention behind them aggressive in its clarity

He knew what you were doing though. It was similar to putting feelers out, testing a situation before charging forward.

A blinding need overtook you and you braved your way to your question, even if you didn't deserve it. ‘Can you hold me?‘ You didn’t look at him as you asked. ‘No clothes… no barriers between us.’ You were afraid that he might see through your request, he would realize how terrified you were that it would be the last time he ever held you like that. Because he would want the truth. Namjoon wouldn’t let the issue go – and you would not lie to him.

He wasted no time in stripping down. He helped you up, offering an open palm so you took it with consent, and he hauled you up against him, the side of your head immediately dropping to his shoulder.

It felt… good.

‘Is this, okay?’ He whispered in your wet hair, one hand on your waist, the other flat on your back.

You nodded, reveling the feel of his every solid muscle against the curves of your body. You fit. You and Namjoon, your bodies, they always fit.

He’d turned up the water temperature before picking you up, and the chill slowly made space for the heat, of the steam and of your husband.

There were so many reasons, mistakes aside. So many of them. To respect Namjoon. To choose Namjoon. To love him.

As he held you in his arms and brushed his hands up and down your hair, and left featherlight touches to your skin… he reminded you how much you meant to him, without even saying the words.

You felt it then, how tired you were, how heavily the world had weighed you down. You weren’t anything in that moment. Neither a wife, a CEO, a daughter, a sister, a mentor, a Noona, a friend, you were Y/n. It wasn’t about tears, or about letting go or falling apart… it was about being your most vulnerable, with the one person you trusted in the world to protect you.

Maybe that’s why his cheating cut as deeply as it did. Because he had been given free access to these parts of you, that you battled to even acknowledge within yourself.

But even you could admit, he had more than made up for it.

‘Namjoon,’ you spoke against his shoulder.

‘Hmm?’

‘Can you help wash it off?’ It wouldn’t tear the feel of Kwang's fingers away, or the touch of his hands, or even erase the memory of his scent, but anything external you could manage, you would try.

At least this wasn’t like the last time. You were alone, then. You didn't have anyone to defend you or to take care of you.

You remember scrubbing your skin raw, bawling your eyes out, wishing it was all just a nightmare you could wake up from.

Only it wasn’t a nightmare, it was reality, it became history… and it was apparently very capable of repeating itself.

----------

Namjoon didn’t need telling twice. He took the lead with the soap and loofah, gentle hands, and a loving touch. It didn't do much, but if anything you did feel a lot lighter.

You thought the worst was over.

But when he was toweling you off, and helping you wear one of his shirts, you realized how wrong you were.

He moved away from you, and folded his arms, much like he did before.

A resting stance that had you tilting your head in question.

The hardness was back in his eyes. ‘I’m giving you space.’ He swallowed thickly, ’because we’re not done here.’

Your teeth clenched and you backed up against the wall on your side, placing your palms flat and leaning against them to keep yourself upright.

‘Will you tell me?’

You looked down. ‘Tell you what?’ Your throat felt raw as you croaked the words.

‘Will you tell me where he dared to touch you.’

You chuckled mirthlessly, a defensive response. ‘So eager to get rid of me?’

‘Don’t fuck with me, baby.’ He warned softly.

You flinched when his voice cut across you, your hands coming up to wrap around you, to protect yourself… His tone was too gentle, despite how much anger you knew was coursing through him.

‘I don’t know how.'

'Try.'

You shivered involuntarily. 'I-I can’t -- ,’ the nails on your right hand dug into your left shoulder as you tried to stabilize yourself. ‘Please, I don’t --,’

He came to stand in front of you. ‘Look at me.’ You shook your head and kept it down. His fists clenched at his side as he spoke. ‘Did he kiss you?’

‘NO!’ You answered too loudly, almost alarmed, ‘n-no, he didn’t.’

His hand moved to cup your neck. ‘Here?’

‘No.’

His fingers trailed down your dress. You tensed when he ghosted the side of your breast, but he didn’t stop there, he just moved the rest of the way to stop on your waist. ‘What did he do?’

You squirmed, wishing to get out of this somehow. ‘The usual, t-tried to f-fondle my, my uhm…’ you winced and lifted your left hand slightly, still feeling his fingers against your skin. You grit your teeth against the feeling and covered your breast with your hand, squeezing lightly, tracing the line on your skin, above your breastbone, reminding yourself that it was your hands, not his.

‘He tried. Be-between m-my legs…’ You managed to choke out. 'He was going to, t-,' You closed your eyes and sniffled, wishing you were stronger, wishing this wasn’t so pitiful. ‘He j-just… just didn’t rape me.’ The last two words came out as a whisper.

You shut your eyes tight, then found the courage to look up at your husband.

Namjoon frowned when he noted how aggressively your nails dug into your arm. Instead of prying them off, something small and subtle and absolutely fucking illogical that would turn this whole exchange upside down, he decided to change tactics.

'What if I hold you, again?’

Your head snapped up at the question. ‘Will it make it easier for you to tell me then?'

It was… unexpected.

He'd been touching you this whole time, your fingers, your neck, you'd even kissed albeit in the heat of a moment. He gave you a bath for crying out loud! But still…

Namjoon was your husband – he had a right. He had every right.

Instead of questioning it, feeding into the confusion, or even trying to make sense of what he was trying to do, you asked the one question you were afraid to get an answer to. 'Do you want to?'

Tears clogged your throat and welled in your eyes. Again.

A pained noise escaped Namjoon's chest before he pulled you into his arms.

You shook against him, his big strong arms wrapped around you, his hold so tight, as if he could put all your broken pieces back together again.

'I'm so sorry, I wasn't there for you today.' He sniffled as you shook your head against the apology. 'I'm so sorry, baby.'

You squeezed your eyes shut as you sobbed openly for the nth time that night, clutching at his shirt like it was a lifeline.

Again you wondered… why you?

Why did the very idea of normalcy evade you at every turn?

Childhood trauma was a given. So fuck that. But then again… men forcing themselves on women… that was some sort of normal too.

It was heard of at every turn.

Catcalling, whistling and derogatory terms. If she wore too little she asked for it. If she wore too much she was a prude.

Rape, sexual harassment at the office, trading blowjobs for good grades with the right professors, sexual abuse on the street…

Every woman you knew, every single one would have gone through some sort of sexual encounter with a male or at least, felt unsafe with them.

Here, with you, Kwang Jae and Kim Y/n, it was a cute cat and mouse game, years in the making.

Maybe it wasn't black and white, and the universe added a bit of glitter to make the trauma sparkle a little with the trauma bond… but you experienced what most women would in their lifetime.

And they survived. They lived. Some spoke out. Some owned their truth. Even if you couldn't be vocal about it. If anything, you could get past it. You could do that… couldn't you?

When you quietened down he brushed his lips against your forehead. ‘What’s really going on?’

‘Joon just…’ you inhaled sharply.

‘I already know how strong you are. You just proved it, by reliving a fucking nightmare, by putting the rest of us first, and I know how big hearted you are – especially by letting the fucker walk.' He inhaled sharply, his only indication that he was very disappointed in your decision. 'I know you will get through this, y/n. But you’re hurting, baby, I can feel it… and it’s breaking my heart.’

A whine left your throat and tears stung your eyes again. ‘-m confused…’

‘You’re allowed to feel anything and everything you need to, to process this y/n.’

No! ‘You don’t get it,’ you tasted salt on your lips, your time was up. ‘Joon… listen, y-you need to know…’

He hummed and rocked you from side to side lightly. ‘Do you want me to back off?’ The masculine heat that radiated off his body, it curled around you like a blanket. Your trembling lessened slightly -- enough for you to get words out.

‘No, please,’ You let go of his shirt, and pushed him away to put some distance between you anyway, 'it was different, this time. And you have to know, you have to know.’

His brows pulled together, but he didn’t let you get far, his hands stayed on your elbows. Your ears felt hot, and your cheeks were aflame from embarrassment and you really didn’t want to say this, but even if you kept it inside things wouldn’t be the same.

‘H-he… tried to t-touch me, and, on my body, a– an – and my skin, and... I felt, I --,’ a strangled whine clawed out of your throat, ‘I felt his hands and they were warm and patient and… I felt him touching me and it won’t go away!’

The humiliation, of his touch being so delicate, of you not having the proper reaction in time, of you not pushing him away, of your body not reacting in the proper way in time!

‘I didn’t fight, I didn’t slap him or hurt him or push him, I tried at first, to knee him, but he deflected and, and -,I froze… and I closed my eyes closed, l-like, I could ignore it, or, or make it go away. It didn’t fully happen, he never got there, but I, I’m, I-,’ You flailed your arms, working yourself into a panic. ‘But h-he was touching me and I didn’t move! He was tracing lines, on my skin,’you curled inward and submerged fully into the nightmare, ‘and playing with me and,’ you inhaled shakily, ‘he threatened to use his fingers, me, to get me to be quiet, but he almost did it anyway and I had to listen and it almost happened and I didn’t fight him off! I, -I, don’t, I --,’

You were silenced again with Namjoon’s lips. For the nth time that day probably. They were soft as they moved against yours, this kiss tender and slow, serving as a reminder that he was there. You tasted a hint of frustration, but he didn’t let it through.

You stopped the kiss first, pushed his arms off and hid your face. ‘He bit me.’ You whispered as your fingers found the spot of its own accord. ‘It’s okay if you’re repulsed,’ You muttered in a dejected tone. ‘I am.’

You yelped when Namjoon pushed you against the wall without warning, and his hand curled around the front of your throat. He pulled you in for another kiss, a slow, deep, darkly possessive kiss, that was also a silent scolding with his teeth when he bit your bottom lip.

‘Mmmh,’ you turned your head away from him. ‘Namjoon, you’re not listening!’ He still didn’t let you go. Instead he leaned forward and bit the exact same spot. You winced at the sting, but you didn’t stop him. Namjoon had always been a darkly possessive male. Huru. Kwang. Namjoon more than needed the reminder for himself, and for you, that you belonged only to him.

Your throat felt tight when he pulled back and you saw the smoldering rage in his dark gaze. What he did say, when he spoke again, succeeded in ripping away every single defense you could ever attempt to hold against him.

‘Nerve endings in the body can react as if everything is normal, y/n.’ He breathed the words of logic, of comfort, words of calm, the complete opposite of his actions. ‘Mentally, you can know it's wrong and not want something, and wish for it to not take place… but the body reacts, because it’s physical… Y/n that will never be your fault.’ The pressure in his fingers increased slightly, pushing you to focus, to listen to him. ‘This whole thing is not your fault.’

You did not… fucking deserve this man.

‘What’s wrong with you?’ You wrapped your hands around his wrist still at your throat and yelled at him, as tears welled up and threatened to trail down your face. ‘You should hate me. You should be disgusted. I don’t have any self-respect! I didn't fight until the last moment! You almost lost me today, and I didn't fight back to avoid it!'

Ashamed. You were so ashamed. Something inside you felt… broken. How could you turn on yourself like that? How could your own body betray you? How could he not see that he could do so much better than you?

‘Y/n,’ Namjoon coaxed. ‘You broke his nose. He was away from you when I got in. I know what you’re saying baby, but I know what I saw. You did fight.’

'But I almost didn’t! I was stuck and I couldn’t move and I kept wishing for it to be over.' You closed your eyes and screamed the honest truth. ‘If he didn’t compare himself to you… I don't know if I would have gotten angry enough to defend myself.’

‘I shut down, Namjoon,’ you clutched at his hand and sobbed. When your knees bent he closed into your space, his other hand holding you at your waist. You had no strength to keep yourself upright at the weight of the knowledge. ‘I just fucking shut… down; I did nothing!’

He hauled you into his arms, then. Needing it, needing him, you leaned into him, burrowing deeper into his chest as you sobbed. ‘How can you trust me if I can’t even trust myself?’

‘Shh,’ Namjoon’s hand circled your waist and held you against him, the other curled around your nape and squeezed. ‘I know none of my words will get through to you right now, so I just need you to know that I love you, y/n. I love you.’

You reveled in the proprietary hold and his words. You went from avoidance, to not wanting to pull away from him, you didn’t want to leave his arms. If you did, you were terrified of what you would see. Your brain answered that for you. Disgusted. He should feel so disgusted. You heard his words, you did. And they made sense and you knew in your heart that he loved you, but the possibility of him changing his mind… you were so scared of losing him. ‘I’m so sorry.’ You hiccuped dryly, your body all out of tears.

‘You have nothing to apologize for.’ You felt his jaw tick. ‘I’m the one that should be sorry.’

It was selfish to be angry at him, or any of them. You shouldn’t be in need of any saving. It was your responsibilities and your burdens and your pain. No one should have to deal with your shit. Not even your husband.

A flash of Kwang’s face in front of yours… you shuddered and tightened your hold on the front of his shirt.

You were so angry… so angry at yourself.

‘He’ll never come near you again, y/n, I swear it.’ Namjoon’s voice cuts through your thoughts. ‘Neither will your father. They’re responsible for your freeze response, not you.’

You blinked against the implication that this was a purely post traumatic response. You didn’t want to entertain it just yet, you didn’t want an out. But you didn’t say anything because of Namjoon.

Something volatile and violent was being suppressed in your husband – you could feel it. The gentle hands and kind words were for your benefit, but you knew in your heart, this night and the anger he felt on your behalf, was going to have lasting consequences.

‘You were a victim, y/n. And now you’re a survivor.' You hated the word, even if it was true. 'But you still have your respect, and you’re still strong and you are incredible, baby, so incredibly strong. Please know that. Please, please know that,’ he whispered in your hair.

You felt… something. You didn’t agree with him right now, but his words made you feel something. And something was better than nothing.

In all honesty, facing head on should have felt worse than it did, saying it should be hard, admitting to what had happened should have some sort of double back because you weren’t even sure any part of you had processed the trauma mentally… even if you were just giving yourself props, maybe you really were resilient. Because you could act normal and talk normal and be normal and there was no doubt in your mind that the night would go and the morning would come and you would meet who you needed to meet, pack with Yuna, if she was even speaking to you, greet and reassure the band...

You swallowed against the bile that surfaced when you rubbed your legs together… you didn’t know how you were going to handle this, because you were your own worst enemy at this moment.

If you were being realistic, Kwang’s presence or what he could do, didn’t matter anymore. There was no fear of him. All of those feelings were absolutely miniscule if you compared it to the betrayal in your heart. And it was funny how the negative emotion of fear canceled out the leaden duplicity, the complete disdain you felt for yourself. The lack of confidence, the insecurities and doubts, all of it was nothing compared to the shame, the knots in your stomach, the feeling of letting yourself down as it lingered in every bone in your body, like a weight you would have to carry for the rest of your life.

You should have never told Namjoon… any of the specifics… but he was the only one you could have admitted it to. Some part of you was terrified that he could still push you away, and another part was solid in knowing he would never judge you…

Unwillingly, you turned your head and found yourself looking out of the window panels, the moon round, and it was one of those moments where you see something you like, and think ‘yes’. The downpour of the rain as it hits the roof, the light in a loved one’s smile, the trickle of laughter through your soul… and Namjoon, holding you in his arms, always doing everything in his power to hold all your shattered pieces together.

Yeah, love wouldn’t save you. No way. Not with life being this fucked up.

Namjoon moved a hand to your head and held you closer to him. And you could cry, you could scream and cry, because it was the safest you had felt all night.

‘We’ll get through this, y/n. Together.’

Together.

Just like everything else, just like the fights and the cheating and the unknown, unseen enemies you now knew you had to contend with. Guess you would need that therapy after all. Fun.

‘Hey?’ He whispered after a while.

You lifted your head from his shoulder and looked at him. He cupped your face in his hands. ‘Want some oreos?’

Despite the fucked-up-ness of the situation, the question made you smile – a genuine smile. ‘Only if we have them with coffee.’

Taglist - @casnextdoor @jaysdimples @belliebelle @pinkcherrybombs @sweetjellyfishland @blushingatyou @jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue @somewhereinthestarss @k-brownsugar @namsona17 @taejinxkoya @notsooperfect @zae007live @its-hopes-world @shina913 @bri-mal @piecesofapril11 @kissme-ornot @toriluvsfics @agustdmwah @lochness-butmakeitsexy @petalsofink @definetlythinkimanalien @masterpiecejoonie @gcintia @danietoww04 @roguesthetic @rjsmochii @amymikaelson @hello-kittyy @mschievous247 @onlythehobi @deliciousdetectivestranger @daddypkj @callmemadhatter @rkivecenter @codeinebelle @creolesoul2seoul @nochelunaxx @serendididy [closed]

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Part 30 - Finale [R]

Part 30 - Finale [V]

Part 30 - Finale [E]

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#bts aus #bts au fanfic #bts namjoon #bts au #bts au fic #bts angst #namjoon x you #namjoon x reader #namjoon #kim namjoon #namjoon x oc #rm bts #bts rm x reader #rm fanfic #rm fic #bts namjoon fanfic #bts namjoon x reader

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unclevladscorner · 1 year

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Letting Go of The Boy Who Lived: Moving on from Harry Potter and Why I wish everyone else would, too.

This is going to be a little bit of a long post. We all know JKR has said- and still says- some pretty horrible things about trans people. While I think that's a good enough reason to no interact with her or her work, that's not my main focus here.

If you don't read this whole thing; and haven't read a Harry Potter book or watched a movie, I'd say don't start. There's better out there. The Magicians goes harder, but has similar themes. There's also A Series of Unfortunate Events and the Percy Jackson books, if your looking for a longer YA series from around the same era.

I discovered Harry Potter at a time of big changes in life. It was the end of my senior year of high school, I'd broken up with an abusive boyfriend and I had nowhere to go on my lunch break anymore.

It was also 2002, and only 8 months after 9/11. The world was changing rapidly around me-literally and figuratively- and I needed a little escape. Before I even graduated, I had read the first three books and I was desperate to read the fourth.

There was a lot to like, at first. As a child who grew up in an abusive and neglectful household, I related to Harry's struggles a lot. The desire to just be a normal kid was something he valued much more than anything else, and being a kid who went to a wizard school was just a fun bonus for him. Harry was just a normal kid besides- he is able to come out of his shell and; for the first time in his life, he is able to enjoy his time at school as he is not really considered strange... except for the fact that he's the Boy Who Lived.

As the books go on, the world were given a peek into begins to lose it's shine. There's chattel slavery of humanoid races pretty early with the house elves, then there's the extremist Pure Blood wizards- many of which follow Voldemort- who'd intimidate, harm and kill children to keep them from receiving and education and mixing with the general wizard population.

As Voldemort is resurrected, things become difficult for our heroes, and fascist wizards take over the Ministry of Magic. Other wizards seems oddly content to either live like nothing is happening, or hide until their Chosen One saves them. Adults become unreliable to a fault; and with herculean effort, Harry and the gang finally defeat the evil Voldemort.

But then... nothing really happens. The world goes right back to the way it was- none of our heroes seem to seek any more justice or reform for any of those they saw hurt or abused once their journey is concluded. Everyone falls into their respective places within society and never seem to question the status quo again.

This course of events says two things to me- That JKR believes Social Justice to be a 'young person thing', and that she probably believes that grassroots efforts cannot effect lasting systemic change.

So, what else is there to do except to get on with it?

There's also the pervasive nihilism that grows stronger as the series goes on. Former allies fall in line with the ruling party; begrudgingly or otherwise, abandoning the young people to their fate. Many witches and wizards won't pick a side, and either pretend nothing is happening or go into hiding. There are only a handful of people willing to fight and many of these rebels are brutally killed or imprisoned.

Defeating Voldemort also does not change the structure of wizard society. It does not change that sentient magical humanoids and those born to magical families without powers are forced into a subclass by the rest of magic wielding society. It doesn't seem to change the fact that there are wizards who believe they should control the whole world, and not just the fates and lives of those within the wizarding community.

As I've gotten older and queerer; and JKR has gotten richer and louder, it's made a body of work riddled with covert and overt racism, homophobia, and weirdly pro-slavery bend harder and harder to like.

At the end of the day, there is just no good reason to invest my money in something that inevitably tells kids and young adults to fall in line after their done protesting and questioning authority.

All done with your fun little Social Justice Adventure? Time to be a Real Adult and stop asking questions!

As a queer and transgender person- literal heroes of my time died fighting intentional misinformation, and purposeful governmental mismanagement of the AIDS pandemic (Big Shout out to Ronald Reagan! The Real Villain of our timeline.) They marched while sick, made art, held 'die ins' in churches and government buildings, sued the government, gathered and distributed reliable information on how to combat AIDS through safer sex and safer drug use practices.

There are too many to list here. Many names no one outside the community has even heard. Many more we don't even know. A made up little boy in a book just isn't as important to me as those often nameless people- people who literally fought and died so that I could be The (Trans)Boy Who Lived.

I will not disrespect the memories of those who came before me by putting money in the pocket of someone who actively hates both them and myself. I will not spend any more time thinking about her or the sad little world she's created.

I'm asking you to do the same.

#harry potter critical #local trans guy yells at cloud #please stop giving the wizard lady money #I am BEGGING

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mayxthexforce · 9 months

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A Memory Like A Mother's Touch || Luke & Padme

Starter for @of-naboo

The Emperor was dead. Darth Vader was dead...

Owen and Beru were dead. Ben was dead. His father was dead.

Fate and the force both had an incredibly, terribly cruel sense of humor. Luke had lived most of his life believing his father to be dead, having been told not his name, not his feelings about fatherhood, only that Skywalker had been a pilot for a spice smuggling ship, that he had chosen that life over raising his son, and that he had died because of his life choices. He'd come to terms with that loss when he was very young. Nothing could have prepared him for the truth. Not only was his father alive, he was the right hand of the Emperor, the Supreme Commander of the imperial fleet. Darth Vader, his father. Such a revelation would have deterred almost every being from attempting to pursue any sort of bond, especially after the duel that cost Luke his hand. But he was stubborn beyond any logical decision.

The same stubborn hope for a familial connection that made him redeem Vader now pushed him into action.

Padme Amidala had been respected and loved by the people of Naboo. No matter the odds, she hadn't ever given up on them. In return, the people of Naboo didn't give up on her, not even death could make them lose their faith in their former Queen/Senator's ability to push through any and all adversities.

They preserved her lifeless body, doing their best to bring her back. Leia had told him about that, having found out herself after she went through the objects that her parents had left far away from Alderaan, in preparation for the possibility of dying. She'd already visited. Having grown up with a mother and a father, it was easier for her to face Padme than it was for Luke, it'd taken him some time to gather the courage to mourn another parent he hadn't ever gotten to know so soon.

There she was. His mother, as beautiful as all those paintings and holos showed her to be. But no longer as ethereal- on the contrary, Luke hadn't ever felt as close to him as he did right now.

The tank kept her body from being affected by the passage of time, preserving her as she was the day they'd all lost her, the same day he and Leia were born. His hands met the smooth crystal surface of the tank, although he only felt the coolness of it against his flesh hand. Then, his forehead followed suit. The light pressure against his head brought him some relief, but it was short lived. Soon, his mind was filled with thoughts of inadequacy, of how he could have done more, could have fought harder, could have done what had to be done to make her proud– whatever that was. He had no way of knowing. All the people who'd ever known her in life that he knew of were now dead.

Oh, how he wished he could talk to her, ask her so many things, have her there with him no matter if she was disappointed or not...

The loud, incessant beeping of the many machines Padme was hooked to startled him. Luke took a step away from the tank. The scientists who'd given him a minute alone came running back in, bolting from machine to machine, speaking to each other so rapidly that Luke could barely understand what they were saying. He only got a tiny part of their rapid conversation, just as he watched bubbles emerge from the ox-mask hooked to his mother's face. Her chest rising and falling for the first time in DECADES.

"She's back!"

#may the queue be with you #||in character: luke skywalker||#& padme #||rp: a memory like a mother's touch||#||verse: the first of the new; luke skywalker||

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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 2 years

Photo

Patrick Chappatte, Le Temps de Genève :: [Scott Horton]

* * * *

Thats Another Fine Mess

ELON CONTINUES TO SCREW THE POOCH

TCinLA

Returning to our originally scheduled programming, here’s as fine a mess as one can find.

Over the past 40 years, many people have come to believe that a person who is Good at Business - who becomes rich - has done so because of their massive intellect, managerial savvy, and good judgement.

During that time, there have been many examples that disprove such belief, but none so obvious as Donald Trump and Elon Muck. What unites the two is their seething resentment of a world that rewarded them money and influence, but still refuses to grant the respect they think is their due.

Trump has proven that resentment is perhaps the most powerful political force in the modern world. Muck is doing his bit too.

Over the past 12 years, Muck tweeted whatever came to mind, mostly without major negative consequences, even when he tweeted things like informing the world he had the financing to take Tesla private, which had a major effect on Tesla’s stock price and should have gotten him in trouble with the SEC

Now, ten days after overspending by at least $40 billion to purchase Twitter in a financial climate where the $44 billion offer was mostly his “fuck you” money, and then forced to purchase it in a financial climate that puts his entire house of cards at risk, he is finding that his every word matters. And pretty much every word he has spouted in those ten days has made his situation worse by factors of billions of dollars.

Muck is on the hook for $13 billion that is secured by his Tesla stock. If he is forced to come up with the money, selling that much stock will lead to a fire sale that could see him lose upwards of $100 billion of the $200 billion in “assets” that constitute his claim to be the world’s richest man.

Twitter is rapidly becoming a theater of the absurd, worthy of an Ionesco drama, as William D. Cohan put it. Here’s Elon’s dilemma, and it’s a financial doozy: his $13 billion has an interest rate capped at an annual rate of 7.5 percent. So Twitter has to pay nearly $1 billion in interest to its banks each year. That’s basically the same EBITDA Twitter had in 2021. However that’s probably no longer an attainable level of EBITDA in 2022, based on Elon’s Friday tweet alone.

It’s hard to see how Elon can go from losing $1.5 billion a year, if true, to generating the cash flow he needs to keep his creditors off his back, even after firing half the company, and especially if users and advertisers continue to leave. It’s highly unlikely a guy like Larry Ellison will pony up more money to flush after the first billion.

And the possibility of that happening is becoming more and more likely - literally from one tweet to the next.

Tweeting an offensive conspiratorial fantasy to Hillary Clinton about the assault on Paul Pelosi had immediate consequences. Advertisers fled because of that tweet and have continued to do so with each following brainfart. The Pelosi tweet may be the most expensive in history, since so far it has cost Twitter billions in advertising revenue as companies like General Mills, Audi, Pfizer, General Motors and other big institutional advertisiters pulled their marketing because they do not want their brands even remotely associated with anything scandalous.

Muck’s Saturday threat to “name and shame” advertisers for doing what advertisers are expected to do merely demonstrates further his complete incompetence as a manager.

At this point, it might be useful to point out that Elon Muck DID NOT do the following:

He DID NOT invent Paypal. He DID NOT start Tesla. He DID NOT start Space-X.

He is the scion of an Afrikaner family that made their millions in the “blood emerald” and “blood ruby” business in Rhodesia, a company that is still known for its involvement in purchasing “blood” gemstones, also known as “conflict gems,” whose legitimate provenance cannot be proved. They consort with warlords and their profit comes from the deaths of exploited Africans in Africa’s civil wars and general instability of the past 40 years.

He came here with several million dollars and proceeded to hire fellow students at Stanford who actually knew what they were doing to create Paypal, which he did in alliance with now-certified pro-Nazi anti-democrat Peter Thiel.

He then took the money made from that and bought his way into both Tesla and Space-X much the way he bought himself into Twitter, though both of those companies actually made things. Tesla has yet to actually be profitable making his tinny toys, since it depends for the majority of its income on government subsidies for electric car sales. He bought his way in, got rid of the actual people who started the company, and named himself “founder.”

Tesla, in fact, is now falling in sales because the real car companies are eating his lunch, creating EVs that actually work, that don’t need to hide a non-disparagement agreement among all the papers a buyer signs. Companies that act like car companies, not Silly Con Vally tech companies.

Owners are upset when all cars have the same glitch, and over extended periods of time the company doesn’t fix them. The shine is off these tinny toys. Nondisparagement agreements or not, word is getting around.

Musk is not an inventor. He is not “chief engineer” at Space-X.

He is the man behind the curtain Dorothy was told to pay no attention to.

Muck is so bad at what he does that when he had a conference call with ad executives last week to quell their concerns over his tweets and the 500% increase in appearance of the “n-word” on Twitter since he took control, that many of the people on the call literally paused the ads and shifted the accounts elsewhere DURING THE CALL because of the uncertainty his statements were adding to. When he fired half the company over the past weekend, he managed to unwittingly fire Twitter’s chief customer officer, the one responsible for maintaining crucial brand and agency relationships.

The advertisers don’t need Twitter. Compared to the other social media behemoths like TikTok, Facebook, Instagram, and YouTube, Twitter barely registers.

When it became known last Thursday that he was going to fire half the employees, he did via an email and didn’t even sign his name to it, an act of cowardice one can list high on “character tells” about him. Many found out about their termination when their work accounts stopped functioning. The cuts hit or totally destroyed major parts of the trust-and-safety, policy, machine-learning, social-good, accessibility, communications, ethical-AI, data-science, and research teams. Those remaining were told to work 80-hour weeks to build products for Musk lest they too be terminated and to come up with ideas to “tantalize” Muck. Today, Bloomberg reported that some of the employees had skills necessary to build products Musk actually wants to launch and were terminated by mistake, and the company is trying to lure them back.

It’s actually amazing there are any employees left.And Muck continues digging the hole deeper. This morning, to the dismay of lost all the brand advertisers left - all of whom strive to be apolitical - Muck endorsed the Republican slate of candidates for tomorrow’s midterm elections to his 114-million-followers. The blowout of advertisers after the Pelosi tweet is nothing compared to what is going on as you read this.Every decision he has made: getting rid of content management, firing half the employees, failing to engage brain before hitting “send” on each tweet, has cost him billions of dollars. Every decision he’s made has lost him money.

Muck is holding a master class in how not to run an effective organization. He is surrounded with a group of yes-men advisers, many of whom also lack specific expertise.Even if he does manage to salvage things, what we are seeing is the opposite of a business mastermind at work. Muck is not leading Twitter with careful vision; he’s bumbling his way through a job he’s unqualified for.The history of capitalism is that you can be very successful and also be a very terrible human being.

In this sense, Musk is an excellent teacher. The great irony is that his achievements with Space-X and even Tsla might have obliterated the perception that he’s a spoiled, rich doofus. Buying Twitter and telling people to vote Republican has pretty much obliterated that possibility.That one tweet will likely cost him many Tesla sales, since it’s mostly the vehicle of choice of rich lefties.The Silly Con Valley Bros need to be reined in. What they are creating is not “progress.” Hero-worshiping the mega-rich is the road to ruin, as we can see around us every day.The lesson we have learned with Muck and Twitter is an old one: it’s better to be thought a fool than to open one’s mouth and prove it beyond all doubt.Yesterday began the second workweek of Musk’s tenure. He celebrated it in the traditional way, by tweeting an image of a Nazi soldier in a meme about birds.

pic.twitter.com/gCxUkZ4kZC

What fresh hell will tomorrow bring? Bet on more chaos.

#Patrick Chappatte #twitter #musk #Muck #TCinLa #commentary #Screwing the Pooch #midterms #social media

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bombasticprimekitty · 11 months

Text

Side Story: Two death, Too Many

TW// Blood

Chaos. Everything is in utter chaos.

Panic chatter and mumbles were all around her. ‘Abuela’ Alma Madrigal frantically gives orders to the town volunteers. Organizing everyone to the best of her abilities. The wounded to one side, telling the guards to patrol the entirety of Encanto, selecting people to spread warning to stay in their respective homes and keep their families safe, and to gather people to find her missing son and granddaughter.

Both Mew and Chandelure help her communicate with the community Pokemon’s to help any human that needed their help. And to keep an eye out for her missing family members.

Today was just horrible.

It felt like she was back to that damnable river, watching Pedro's death all over again. So weak and helpless. She so badly wanted to go back to her family, to see for herself that they are alright. To make sure that no one else was taken. To reassure her rapidly beating heart that they are fine. And that they are alive.

But she can’t. Not while there was still a possibility that Giratina would return. And if it was planning to strike them again. She can’t let her worry for their wellbeing get in the way of keeping them all safe.

She needs to make sure that the Encanto is safe. That nobody else would be targeted and kidnapped. Like Mirabel almost did...

Her poor granddaughter. Why would such a monster target her granddaughter like that!? She was a child, barely able to count from one to ten. Even tripping on her own two feet with how clumsy she is. What would it gain by taking her away!? She was as harmless as a Cleffa!

Her head was starting to hurt from the forming migraine. She felt so overwhelmed. There are so many things to do with so little time. Tending the wounded, fortifying defenses, forming search parties, and calming down the populace of Encanto. And with her family compromise, everything was moving too slow for her liking. They aren’t moving as fast as they used to be, in times of crisis usually they work faster than this, was it because her family is not helping? She needs to bring this up to the council's meeting later, if her family is the sole reason for the effectiveness then they need to think of something to counterbalance it. They can’t just be lazy just because Lord Arceus blessed her family. What if they’re unavailable? Then what happened?

A rumbling of thunder snaps her out of her thoughts. Followed by a crash of lighting and hail. Pepa!

Faster than she realizes she could, Alma urgently jogs as hard as she could towards her daughter, quickly getting out of breath as her age starts to get to her. But she wouldn’t falter in her step, not when she was so helpless with protecting her son and granddaughter.

Once she nearly reaches the patio - a place she had chosen specifically because it was near the kitchen, where Julieta had prepared her foods in case of an emergency - the cold freezing air hits her and she can already feel the chill rattling her bones. And through the haze of wind and thunder she could hear her daughter chanting “Clear skies! Clear skies!” from the distance.

Something was upsetting her, but what? Did something bad happen? Is the monster back!? Dread began to take a hold on her once again. No... She can’t lose them, not again!

Through the haze she could see most of her family together under one of the makeshift tents. Felix by Pepa's side trying to comfort her, far away from the family so as not to drench them. The children's bundle up together, trying to comfort each other. With Dolores in particular trying to calm Camilo down while simultaneously trying to comfort a crying Luisa who was holding onto Mirabel's unconscious body. Both Agustin and Julieta were there as well, albeit unconscious. They were both lying down on a cot and with gauze covering where they had been injured. Her stomach churn from seeing the blood that had started to seep through the material. They had to change it, just looking at it made her nauseous.

“Pepa! Pepa! What’s wrong Mija!?” Alma asked, looking at her daughter with worry. She was out of breath when she reached them. They were at the edge of the forest in the back. Their backs turn towards her. But even when they didn’t face her she could tell something was wrong. After all, it had began to rain.

Pepa didn’t answer her, instead she looked at her with a gaze that startled her. It was full of sorrow and despair. The look of someone that had just lost everything. The same gaze that she constantly saw in herself whenever she looked at her own reflection. And she wanted to ask her why she was giving her that look until she noticed something in her hands.

A bloodied torn green ruana.

She felt her breath hitching. Suddenly feeling cold. Like she was plunged into the same river that had now been her husband's grave. Her eyes then move from the torn clothes and beyond her daughter and son-in-law towards the forest. And there, under the cover of darkness she saw a black tar-like substance coating the grass and trees around it. The vegetation it touches is seemingly dying from being in contact with it. It was clear that this had been the place where it had escaped.

With Bruno and Isabela.

They’re too late…

“Mama…” Pepa sobs, her voice crack and she choked as another hiccup interrupts her. Her shoulder was shaking and quaking, tears freely slid down her cheek as she wept louder. And not even Felix was able to comfort her. Seeing her now like this, made her look like the little girl who she had raised all those years ago.

Lightning cracks above them.

The rain poured harder, the wind picking up traction. At this rate, Pepa would make a hurricane. But it didn’t matter. Not when her son and granddaughter are gone. So she did the only thing she could think of at the moment, and pulled her daughter in for a hug. She let Pepa cry on her shoulder, to let her emotion free and let the grief flow. Letting her hands grip her dress tightly. Her fingers clawing at it and her skin in turn. But she ignores the pain in favor of just letting her cry it out. It didn’t matter the storm that rages above them. For once she didn’t even care about it or how it’ll affect the Encanto. Not when her son and granddaughter are gone.

And as the freezing water drench her, she felt her tears being swept away by the water sliding down her face. She holds her daughter tighter, as to bring comfort to herself that her daughter is still here, that if she were to let go she would disappear also. She couldn’t afford to lose anyone else. She wouldn’t be able to handle it.

Because they had already lost two important people in their lives.

That they had lost another family again.

#encanto #encanto au #abuela alma madrigal #pepa madrigal #side story #one-shot #set before the main story #Lost Constellation Au

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