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welcome-to-the-end-of-eras · 26 days

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Pulleyverse Characters as ATLA Benders

Mori: If any one of the pulleyverse characters were to be the avatar it would definitely be Mori, but if he weren't the avatar I think he would be an earth bender who specializes in metal bending. Like I think he would have so much fun making little metal sculptures and moving structures and stuff like that, not unlike the Beifongs in LoK. So combining those ideas, he'd be an avatar born in the Earth Kingdom who very much does not want to be the avatar.

Shenkov: He's definitely a fire bender, no question. He has that classic fire bender strength and honor routine basically engrained in him from a young age, and I feel like he could be pretty accomplished as a fire bender, but again he probably wouldn't want to do much fire bending. He'd kinda be like an Iroh situation; was and could be the strongest person in the room if he let loose, but all he really wants is some tea.

Joe: Water bender, and a damn good one too. He really mastered the calm meditative nature required of a water bender, (the man stared blank faced at a ticking bomb two feet from him, for Christ's sake) but he can also be really ruthless about it too. I don't necessarily think he would be a blood bender or anything like that, but he would definitely be able to pull the freezing rain thing like Katara.

Missouri: He would also be a water bender for the same reasons as Joe, but I think he would in fact be a blood bender. In the world of ATLA, blood benders are very widely feared, and for good reason, and I think Missouri would absolutely be capable of using something like blood bending to instill fear in people. He wouldn't like doing it of course, but he could and would if necessary.

Gale: They're very much an air bender. They're very calm and meditative when they need to be, and that is how they prefer to be, but they could definitely pull a Yangchen and just go buckwild if they needed to. And I feel like of all the pulleyverse characters, they're the least attached to their "earthly desires" (and that is relative bc none of these mfs are detached at all). Plus imagine them having a fuckin MAMMOTH as their little companion buddy instead of a bison!!! A big ass flying mammoth!!!

Valery: I honestly think Valery would be a non bender. He's all for science and everything like that, and of course benders can be scientists, but I feel like he would spend a lot of time studying what makes people able to bend instead of being a bender himself. If I were to choose one element for him I would probably choose fire, but at the end of the day it makes the most sense to me if he were more interested in studying bending.

Merrick: Earth bender. There is no other answer for him that earth bender. He's very grounded and stable in his character, but also undeniably strong. His arc about overcoming the "weakness" he feels after his leg gets messed up honestly is very reminiscent of Toph to me, and I feel like he would absolutely take the time and learn from the creatures of the earth to become an incredibly powerful earth bender. Also adding in him being a mentor for Mori and it's just >>>

Raphael: I feel like he would also be an earth bender tbh. Like he just so ardently respects the land he lives on and constantly learns from his environment to adapt, especially considering he can't always rely on the people around him, so he would turn to learning from the world around him. If I were pressed to choose another one I think he could also fit into the fire bender role, but I prefer the earth bender interpretation tbh.

January: He honestly could be a non bender too, but the Sokka kind of non bender who takes the time to learn actual fighting moves from all of the nations and become just an incredibly powerful fighter on his own. I feel like he would be especially inspired by air nomad moves being a dancer and all, and that would be the way he bonds with Gale which I think is vvv cute.

Thaniel: he has stumped me this entire post, which is very odd considering I think about this man at least five times a day, and the best conclusion I think I've drawn is he'd either be a non bender or an earth bender. So probably then a non bender born in the earth kingdom, because he does embody the earth kingdom ideals of maintaining outward strength and balance in life, but not necessarily the actual ideals of an earth bender. And tbh he seems like he couldn't give less of a fuck about bending.

#this took me longer than expected and I reserve the right to change my answers later #the way I normally make these posts is by stewing on the ideas throughout the day and then putting all of my ideas out in a mad dash #it is to quote the mars house 'projectile autism'#but I was asked personally this morning to make this and I don't have a lot of time today so this is what we're rocking with for now #and I'd happily do it again bc I love making these and I love atla #the watchmaker of filigree street #the lost future of pepperharrow #the bedlam stacks #the kingdoms #the half life of valery k #the mars house #twofs #tlfop #tbs #tk #thlovk #tmh #natasha pulley

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oatflatwhite · 2 years

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finished the bedlam stacks and now i’m just sitting here like. natasha pulley what is wrong with you (affectionate)

natasha pulley i would like to pick apart your brain and nestle inside for real

OK GOD OK finishing the kingdoms felt a little like climbing a mountain and all the oxygen was running out and i thought i might die but then we reached the summit and the view. THE VIEW! and i could breathe again. finishing the bedlam stacks felt like falling all the way down that same mountain and lying in a heap at the base in incredible pain but also greatly relieved because i was on solid ground again

#answered #farfromthstars #SO HE JUST HAS TO LIKE? LIVE HALF HIS LIFE AND THEN COME BACK TWENTY YEARS LATER AND RAPHAEL WON'T HAVE AGED A DAY #KILL ME NATASHA PULLEY I'M SERIOUS THAT WOULD HURT LESS #the bedlam stacks #natasha pulley

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ringthedamnbell · 5 months

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Answering The 10 Count: Tracy K, The Former Wife of Johnny K-9

An interview with the wife of a pro wrestler/biker/criminal Answering The 10 Count: Tracy K, The Former Wife of Johnny K-9

Brian Damage Johnny “K-9″ Croitoru was a former pro wrestler, an actor and biker who led a rather wild life filled with sex, drugs and crime. His story was featured on the Dark Side of the Ring entitled ‘Bikers, Bombs & Bedlam.’ Despite his crazy life outside of the wrestling ring, Croitoru was also a husband and a father. Johnny “K-9” Croitoru passed away in 2017 at the age of 53 at a halfway…

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#Answering The 10 Count #Bruiser Bedlam #Darkside of the Ring #Jim Cornette #Johnny K-9 #Smoky Mountain Wrestling #Taras Bulba #WWE #WWF

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cyallowitz · 8 months

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Another Day of Asking for Interview Questions

Art by Alison Hunt As I said last Sunday, I wanted to help promote Do I Need to Use a Dragon? before I go back to work on Tuesday. This is the second day of asking for any questions that will create an interview post. They will be answered on tomorrow’s blog post. So, what can you ask? Nothing personal, which should go without saying. Ask me anything about writing, my stories, blogging, and…

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#answers #author #Bedlam #do I need to use a dragon #fantasy #fiction #Ichabod Brooks #interview #Legends of Windemere #publishing #questions #thoughts #War of Nytefall #writing

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six-of-ravens · 1 year

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very quickly went from "wah, I have done nothing today" to "....oh, I'm done everything I wanted to do today"

#finished developing this site...now i just have to add some content to it #usually thats someone else's job but in this case I'm on it #also before work this morning i finished The Bedlam Stacks! and rescheduled my dentist appt!#if i can get ahead on this site I'll be happy. nightmare client is going to come back with a vengeance tomorriw #*tomorrow #bc I haven't answered any of their emails today LOL

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halcyon-autumn · 1 month

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I was listening to the new dimension 20 and typing a post like "oh I can't wait to see what force of bedlam Ally Beardsley does with an immovable rod, a dnd item I have only seen used for chaos" and then I immediately received an answer: do magically assisted pull ups over the whole religious community where Kristen's ex-girlfriend's new rich girlfriend can see

#alley beradsley absolute legend #dimension 20 #fantasy high #kristen applebees #dimension 20 spoilers #fantasy high spoilers

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pagingdoctorbedlam · 8 months

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Is there a character you feel people don't understand as well as they should? If so, why?

*stares you deep in the eye and steeples my fingers*

We are going to discuss the Duality Of Giraffe. It's time for Kaku.

The thing with Kaku is that he holds a surprising amount of nuance and depth (more than the rest of CP9, I'd argue), and there's a duality to him that a lot of folks miss.

Because yes, Kaku is a funny guy who can be nice and polite. He's a funny man who parkours at high speeds for fun, he sincerely enjoyed working on ships in Water 7, he gets the ability to turn into a giraffe and staunchly claims he's happy about this, and he looks and talks like an extra from Popeye.

Kaku is ALSO a downright bastard assassin. He's a known killer for the World Government. He knows the importance of a ship, and he won't hesitate to use that against a foe by dooming a man's already-battered ship to a major storm. He sincerely enjoys fighting, uses his entire body as a weapon, and will contort himself with a recent transformation into a variety of painful positions just so he can murder better.

I feel like a lot of people cleave too much to the nice guy persona, or use his regret as an excuse to claim that he didn't mean any of it. But like, he's still with the World Government even after they tried to disown him, doing their dirty work. He is STILL a bastard, and while you can clean some of that up in fanon, overcorrecting erases a lot of the nuance that makes him so fun.

Yeah, Kaku is funny and nice and polite. But at the end of the day, he's still a bloodthirsty killer, and he isn't kind about it either.

#bedlam answers #one piece meta #kaku #one piece kaku #i love my giraffe BECAUSE he is a complicated mess

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pokedocbedlam · 2 years

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What kind of foods can the Selknight line have? Is there some foods they stay away from? And some they favor above others?

Food is simultaneously more and less complicated when one can shift between human and Pokemon form. Selkies tend to prefer Pokemon food such as Berries and Poffins (with tastes suiting their natures; Ingo likes Sweet, Emmet and Leslie like Spicy, and Emil goes for Bitter), but they more often than not have to resort to Human foods. For human preferences, I have a whole post about my thoughts here that at least mostly still applies to the Selknight version of the twins.

There's also the complicated nature of Meat. While the Selkies are omnivorous like most Pokemon, getting that protein and other nutrients from meat is verrry important! But it used to require eating other Pokemon, which. Could get complicated, so the twins had strict rules about what they could eat. I and others have headcanoned that the advent of cloning technologies means that lab-grown meat is commonplace nowadays, so acquiring meat is less of an issue...but one sometimes has to remind the twins in particular to COOK the meat before eating it, at least in human form where such is frowned upon. Regardless of source, Selkies have a strong preference for fish and shellfish.

As for foods they stay away from...well, anything too processed isn't great for them, so they try to avoid those (though sometimes the allure of a cheap, tasty-looking snack is too strong, and now you've got a Selkie curled up with a tummyache in your bathtub). Other foods specifically detrimental to Pokemon (or irl Seals) will likely also gunk up their systems.

Oh, and they tend to stay away from alcohol and other intoxicants, both for digestive reasons and also because they don't want to risk giving anything away and/or being too out-of-sorts to protect themselves. They'll occasionally indulge in a beer or glass of wine, but if one decides to drink more than that, the other remains sober in order to keep an eye out.

#bedlam answers #selkie au #submas selkie au #ingo #emmet #doc bedlam #fakemon #submas headcanons #pokemon headcanons #bedlam art

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bedlamsbard · 1 month

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Might I ask your opinions on Steve/Nat/Bucky as a throuple?

Not my thing because amongst other reasons I'm honestly just not that interested in Bucky -- I see the attraction and I know a lot of people who are very into him, but it's not a character type that does anything for me. I also feel like I've just been really overexposed to Bucky in fandom, both on his own and in various ship combinations, and am generally kind of burnt out on the character and ships thereof over the course of the last 13 years in and around MCU fandom. I don't have anything against the character on his own, I just basically see too much of him around. (As well as being here on the Tumblr/AO3 side of the fandom, I'm also in the pin-collecting and cosplay sides, and if you're anywhere around the Captain America and Black Widow segments of the fandom, there is just...a lot of Bucky. Which is understandable but kind of frustrating for me if I'm not there for that particular character.)

In general I also find that it's impossible to find any kind of BuckyNat (or combos thereof) that's MCU-based rather than comics-based, which means disregarding basically everything about Natasha's backstory and characterization from the MCU in order to transfer her comics backstory over to the MCU, which is a huge no-go for me these days. (This was a little more understandable back in 2012 when there just wasn't that much to go on, but it is 2024 now; in general I find most of the fic that stems from 2011-2016 to be near-unreadable for me these days which is actually incredibly frustrating, since until I started writing in it the MCU was my longest-running reading fandom even when I wasn't actually in the fandom. There are fics -- of various ships -- that I have been reading for ten plus years that I can't read anymore.) I realize I got seriously into the fandom after the Black Widow movie came out, but even before that you couldn't really transfer her comics backstory over to the MCU, with or without the Bucky relationship. I've also found, reading the ship on and off over the course of the past thirteen years (like I said, I've been here for a while), that very few authors are actually interested in the SteveNat of that particular threesome and it tends to slant towards being a combination of BuckyNat and SteveBucky rather than a true OT3. And I'm a SteveNat truther, so... *hands*

The short version of all that is that it doesn't do it for me, but I get why people like it.

#sorry that this is a bummer of an answer!#I think I was actually thinking about this the other day because I reread some combination of stevebuckynat fics #and was trying to figure out why I had such a negative reaction to them #my curse is that of the various steve-bucky-natasha-peggy ships I virulently hate all of them #except for stevebucky which I am neutral on these days but don't actually ship #and stevenat because I am a stevenat truther #every other combo in there I really dislike and unfortunately nearly all the combos are more common than stevenat #which everyone else characterizes differently than I do anyway #well probably not EVERYONE but I've never read a fic that hits the points about it that do it for me #and then I hit the point where I mostly had to give up reading in my writing fandom #skywalkerrisen #bedlam replies

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cooliestghouliest · 3 months

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LOVE ME TWO TIMES, ch. one

(chapter one) (chapter two)

PAIRING: eventual Mungrove x Reader

SUMMARY: Struggling to come to terms with the abrupt abandonment of your father, you’re left with two options – attend an “all girls’ therapeutic boarding academy” that’s really more Bedlam Insane Asylum than trusty reformative school, or move half-way across the country to a small town in Indiana to live with your older brother, Rick. The upheaval of your life in Fresno might just end up being a little star-crossed and a whole lot serendipitous.

WORD COUNT: 3.5k+

SERIES TAGS: angst. some pretty heavy topics in later chapters. just enough fluff to hopefully balance it all out. eventual smut (18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI). eventual love triangle. neurodiversity. dom/sub undertones (dom!Billy, switch!Eddie, switch!Reader), also bi!Eddie and bi!Reader but confused!Billy. drugs and drug addiction. no use of Y/N (but much use of nicknames and pet names). Reefer Rick is Matthew Lillard circa Senseless. more TBA as the story progresses.

CHAPTER TAGS: absent dads and mean moms. brief mention of self-destructive tendencies (way more about that later). your brother's a total cockblock. long-winded parental background information. this is really just some stage setting before we get into the nitty gritty.

A/N: this is my favorite fic i've ever written, and now it's coming at you re-edited. it's my verbose word child, sprinkled with a few What The Fuck and Holy Shit moments, dolled up with some silly humor and a dose of hot (and often borderline depraved) smut. a lot's already planned for this, so i hope you enjoy. :-)

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chapter title: O Brother, Where Art Thou?

You weren’t expecting the high pitch of the doorbell that sounded throughout your colonial-style home, and proof of that was now spilled all over the kitchen floor.

Tiny green buds were sprinkled across the white-and-black linoleum tile, some scattered in the blonde mess of curls that belonged to the boy kneeling before you, his mouth busy between your legs.

You’d been attempting to multitask, rolling a joint while twisted awkwardly at the dining table, the quarterback’s head shrouded by your bare thighs, lapping noisily at your wet center.

You huffed out a frustrated sigh at the spillage, but it quickly turned into a moan when goldilocks gave a particularly harsh suck on your clit.

“You needa get that?” he mumbled against your folds, tongue halting its assault only to speak before diving back in, showing no intention of stopping.

You shook your head, one hand moving to tangle in the his hair, the other crumbling up the now empty and useless rolling paper. “Uh-uh… prob’ly just some Mormons,” you answer, beginning to rock your hips up into the warm mouth covering your cunt. “I don’t wanna be saved.”

Chris… or Carl… or Craig… whatever his name was, laughed, the sound vibrating nicely against your heat. Your toes curled at the sensation, thighs wrapping tight around his ears.

He moaned appreciatively at your movement, running his tongue flat against the length of your opening. Maybe you could keep this one around. He liked New Kids on the Block unironically, but holy shit, he knew what to do with his mouth.

The bell rang again.

And then again, and again, and again.

“Oh, little seeeee-eeee-ster!” came a familiar male voice from the other side of the front door. “I know you’re in there, Bean. I can see your shadow in the kitchen!”

You shot up straight, aligning your posture and pulling Chris Carl Craig from between your legs by the grip you had in his hair. He gave an unappealing whine, his fingers moving up to console his scalp.

Standing quickly, you adjusted your pleated skirt so it fell normal again, just above your knees. “Up, up, up,” you impatiently urged the jock still kneeling on the ground, smoothing your clothing and hair to make sure nothing looked too out of place.

“Who is that?” the blonde asked, finally following you into a standing position, large hand still cradling his head. “Still the Mormons?”

“It was never Mormons, Chet,” you said, hoping your shot-in-the-dark guess at his name was right.

It wasn’t.

“It’s Chad,” he said, eyes beginning to narrow. Whether it was in suspicion, confusion, annoyance, or a combination of all three, you didn’t know. And it didn’t matter. You needed to get him out of here without your new visitor catching sight of him, or else you knew you’d never hear the end of it. Chad was still intent on conversing, though. “We’ve literally been in the same school district since, like, kindergarten.”

You bit your lower lip, offering a sheepish smile. “Right,” you said. “I know that.” You didn’t. “Sorry. Head’s a little loopy right now. Your tongue could win awards.”

With Chad’s newfound cocky grin, you knew the flattery angle had worked out. It usually did. Boys were such suckers for some ego stroking.

“Oh, fuckin’ right!” you heard from the front door, the visitor’s voice now cheerful. The door handle began to jangle, and you heard the sound of a key in the lock.

He must have found the spare. Of course he had. He’d only lived here his entire childhood, just like you.

The key had been in the same place it always had been since moving to Fresno -- under the coir doormat that read Definitely Not a Trap Door, courtesy of your father. He’d made it for the family after moving from Chicago to California for his new teaching position at CSU in ‘70. Your mom still hadn't gotten around to throwing it out, even though she’d managed to get rid of almost everything else inside the home that reminded her of her ex-husband.

The door swung open and there stood your older brother in all his punk rock, Fuck-the-Bourgeoisie glory. Short bleached blonde hair, numerous facial piercings, ripped Dead Kennedys t-shirt, tight red tartan pants, muddy black Doc Martens. He was smiling wide, dopey.

Fuckin' Rick.

You started to match his expression, unable to resist your brother’s effortless and childlike charm, but your smile fell flat when Rick’s now disapproving gaze landed on the blonde still standing at your side.

“A Letterman, Bean? Really?” Rick asked you incredulously, having spotted Chad’s football jacket as the jock in question slid it from its place on the kitchen chair to rest over his broad shoulder.

“What?” you asked Rick coyly, quickly eyeing Chad. “You know I don’t discriminate. I’m a true equal opportunist.”

Chad seemed oblivious to the underlying context of the conversation between the pair of siblings. He was watching the two of you interact with seemingly nothing behind his eyes.

God, so cute but so totally stupid.

You closed the distance between the two of you, Chad looking hopeful he was going to be kissed or something, but you instead reached your hand out to pluck a few pieces of weed from his hair. “You can go now,” you told him, finger tapping his nose lightly.

Chad’s face scrunched at your touch but he then shrugged it off, picking his backpack up off the kitchen floor before making his way to the front door. “See ya at school,” he said to you over his shoulder. Stopping briefly next to your brother, Chad assessed him before saying, “Um, bye, whoever you are.”

Rick pulled his lips into a tight line, raising his brows in amusement. He clapped his hand hard on Chad’s back a few times before pushing the footballer out the door. “Later, loverboy.”

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

An hour and a half later, you and Rick were seated on opposite ends of the tufted tuxedo sofa in the living room. A box of half-eaten extra cheese pizza laid open in between the two of you.

Some low budget horror VHS was playing on the TV across from the couch, the volume low. You thought it was called Ghoulies. You kept catching glances of tiny, ugly wet looking monsters scurrying on the screen out of your peripheral.

You’d been talking to Rick about senior year at Fresno Central High (you said you were doing great, straight A’s across the board, but in reality, you were failing everything but English and Music).

You'd been talking about work at Spins and Needles, the record store you’d been employed at for a little over two years now (you told him you’d gotten promoted to Assistant Manager, which was true, but you left out the fact that you were on Strike Two of Three for blowing off shifts to get high with some goth kids that routinely came in a few hours before closing).

And you'd been talking about your mom (this you were honest about – “She’s still a huge bitch, Rick, that hasn’t changed”).

But then he tried to bring up your dad, asking in an obnoxiously forced nonchalant tone if you’d heard from him lately.

That’s where you stopped him.

You were not going to talk about your dad.

Flipping the pizza box lid shut harshly, you sat up straight and faced him.

“Why are you really here?” you demanded.

Rick sighed, defeated.

He knew you’d catch on soon enough that this supposed innocent visit was actually a planned mission. He’d just been hoping maybe you’d be the one to breach the topic of going back to Indiana with him. Maybe you wanted out of this Californian hellhole. A chance at a fresh start, hundreds of miles away.

But he knew you recently had developed a penchant for self-destruction and self-catastrophizing, which meant getting you to see the bright side and the positives of his request was going to be near impossible.

Still, he had to try.

“Mom called me,” he admitted, which earned him a dramatic eye roll from you. “I know you’re failing your classes. I know your boss has been blowing up the landline wondering why you keep closing up shop so early. And I know mom’s a bitch. I’m trying to save you from her. She said she’s thinking of enrolling you into St. Mary’s.” Rick wasn’t surprised at the bewildered scoff you gave to that, St. Mary’s being Indiana’s notorious Catholic boarding school for wayward girls. He’d finally gotten to the point, the real reason he was there: “Come stay with me in Hawkins, Bean.”

“Wow, Rick, so noble. It only took you, what, ten years to come back for me?”

Rick couldn’t help but flinch, your wounding words accusing. And accurate.

It was true.

Rick, at twenty, had left Fresno in an old RV he’d bought for dirt cheap, with plans to travel the country and get the fuck away from his parents, Ronald and Maureen Lipton.

Or, away from his mother, really.

Ron Lipton was generally fine -- until a certain point in his life. To outsiders, the man seemed to be very happy and very put-together, successfully established in both his home life and his career.

Ron and Maureen had gotten married just a few short months following their high school graduation, after finding out Maureen was pregnant with Rick.

With the draft ever present, Ron enlisted in the army, while Maureen enlisted the help of her mother-in-law to take care of Rick (and eventually you, once you were born, conceived on one of Ron’s short stints back home), so she could work on her doctorate in psychiatry.

After being honorably discharged a handful of years later, Ron had gotten his Master’s degree in education and creative writing.

To the public, Ronald and Maureen Lipton were fantastic at keeping up the facade of Perfect Suburban Family.

In private, however, the Lipton household was like living in a layer of Hell.

Where Ron was imaginative and endlessly inquisitive, instilling a love of storytelling and curiosity in his children, Maureen was passive aggressive and judgemental, harboring jealousy for the relationship her children had with her husband. This eventually festered a spiteful dynamic between her and Ron, and between her and her offspring as well.

When the two of you were younger, Rick in his late teens and you in your last years of elementary school, one of your favorite backyard games was to wonder aloud to each other how and why your parents had ever even gotten together in the first place.

You were both sure that it must have been an arranged marriage of some sorts.

Rick thought maybe your grandparents had made a deal with the devil, and to ensure the safety of the family, Ronald and Maureen were forced to be betrothed for life.

You thought maybe Maureen was an evil sorceress who had cast a spell on your father, trapping him in a loveless marriage that he was an unsuspecting victim in.

The truth was not stranger than fiction.

The reason behind their nuptials was simple, really: Ronald was raised to believe he needed to provide for his family, and after having knocked Maureen up not only once but twice, he was resigned to the fact that this was his path in life.

Devoted father, loving husband.

While he couldn’t stand his wife, her harshness and indignation usurping any positive characteristics she may have once had, Ron did love his children. Dearly.

Rick was his wild child; his rebellious, rambunctious trouble maker.

Ron would sit on the front porch late at night, waiting for Rick to get home and tell him all about his latest escapades. What parties he’d gone to, what girls he’d kissed, whether he preferred the high from acid or mushrooms more. Ron lived vicariously through his son, encouraging the boy to play hard, but to play hard responsibly.

You were Ron’s Little Leia of Alderaan; his opinionated, open-minded warrior, brave enough to stand up to any bully who’d dare to make fun of you or your friends. You were Ron’s daydreamer, his whimsical muse, his daily reminder that there was still innocent softness in this cruel world.

You would have Daddy Daughter Dates twice a week, where you’d do things like go to the roller rink or have picnics in the park, and they always ended with a two scoop mint chocolate chip ice cream cone shared between the both of you.

But Ron’s love for his life dwindled the second he stepped foot inside his house -- where he was forced to occupy space with his resentful excuse of a wife, a woman who would never miss a beat to berate him for every choice he’d ever made in his life.

With your older brother gone, the squabbles between Ron and Maureen got worse.

Rick had been able to placate his father and put himself in the line of Maureen’s fire, taking her verbal hits so his father didn’t have to. You, being only ten when Rick had left, didn’t have much ground to stand on with your parents arguing, and trying to step in as Rick had would usually only make things escalate.

Ron fantasized about leaving, starting over anew. The immediate and resounding “no” that his subconscious always answered himself with, thinking of the kids, dwindled down over time, until all of his fantasizing led him to making actual plans of departure.

Last year, right before summer break was set to start, Ron finally left.

Having taken PTO from the campus, he’d waited that morning for Maureen to leave for work and for you to be on the bus to school. Alone, he took the time to pack all of his belongings, leaving only a few things behind, all with you in mind -- things to remind you of him in his absence. He’d intended on coming back for you as soon as possible, wanting to settle in somewhere before dragging his daughter into his uprooted life.

But it was over a year now that Ron had been gone, and you could count on one hand the amount of times he’d reached out to you.

You could count them on two fingers, actually.

The first time was the night after he’d left, when he’d tried explaining to you his reasoning, which you weren’t at all interested in hearing. You were beside yourself that he’d left you, just like Rick had, except Rick was your brother and that was normal, but Ron was your daddy and he was supposed to always be there.

Your mother, in anger that Ron would attempt to talk to you and not her, had disconnected the call, and while you waited by the phone all night for him to call back, he never did.

The second and last time he reached out was a few months ago, via letter for your 18th birthday. It was postmarked with an address in Fort Worth, Texas. When you’d tried writing back, you'd found the letter you'd sent in your mailbox a week later, marked Return to Sender.

It was mid-November now, and you hadn’t heard from him since.

At least Rick had kept in touch after he’d left.

He’d sent you care packages every month since arriving to Indiana in '81. They were full of sci-fi and horror books he’d found at the local Goodwill or Salvation Army, newspaper clippings for outlandish Classified segments, scribbled notes on stained notebook paper detailing concerts he’d gone to and new bands he thought you should check out.

Remembering this, you softened quickly after accusing Rick of abandoning, your biting comment causing guilt to swirl in your stomach.

Rick had his reasons to leave, you understood that. He was allowed to live his life. And even though he’d done just that, left and lived his life, he still always managed to keep tabs on you. The two of you hadn’t gone more than a few weeks without letters sent or parcels mailed back and forth since he’d first left home.

Never there, but never gone. Not really.

That was more than you could say for your father.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that,” you admitted, even though the hurt words you spoke did hold some kernel of truth. “It’s just… I don’t wanna have to start all over somewhere else.”

“It’ll be good for you,” Rick promised, choosing to let the accusation of his abandonment slide. He was sure you'd both get into it more later, considering it was a conversation that was long overdue. “The house is too big for just me anyway, and you know I’m fuckin’ shit at decorating. I’ve basically just been using beer cans for bookends and stuff like that – you could make it look way cozier.”

You laughed, sure your brother wasn’t exaggerating.

Rick was about as anti-capitalist as you could get, and that included being a minimalist when it came to possessions. Give the man a hand-me-down couch, a little TV, some weed, his cassettes, and a subscription to Playboy, and he’d be content for the rest of his life.

You were the opposite.

You loved things.

You had many different collections you’d amassed over the years -- your vast assortment of books had spilled from the two bookshelves in your room to several stacks littered throughout the house, much to your mother's annoyance; your vinyls were shoved into four big storage bins stacked under your octagonal bedroom window, which you draped a blanket over and used as a makeshift window seat nook; your cliques of creepy looking dolls you’d collected from estate sales and antique shops crowded your bed, your vanity, the storage shelf in your closet; the bug assemblages you’d been adding to since your childhood had their own corner of your room, little homes full of ladybugs, ants, and deathwatch beetles.

The idea that you could expand your knack for interior embellishing (hoarding, really) further than the confines of one room was one thing that made you start to consider taking Rick’s offer seriously.

That, and the realization that finally getting the fuck out of Fresno might not be such a bad idea.

Because what did you have there anymore, anyway? Shit grades? A handful of mean exes? A dead-end job?

Was any of that worth staying for?

You thought of your dad trying to reach out to you via telephone, imagined your mother answering and telling him you’d moved away and no longer lived there.

If it were only a few months since Ron had left, you didn’t think you would have gone with Rick back to Hawkins. You would have stayed just for the mere possibility that your dad would show up on the doorstep one day, begging for your forgiveness for leaving you alone with your coldhearted mother.

However, it was over a year now that he’d been gone. One year, four months, and fifteen days... if anyone was counting.

You’d never verbally admit it, but you still were.

There was a page hidden in the back of your diary where you kept track.

Your hopefulness was starting to make you sick.

Maybe a change wouldn’t be so bad.

Going back to Hawkins with Rick sure beat being forced to attend an all girls’ reformatory school, one with a reputation that claimed the headmaster performed shock therapy on students in lieu of giving them detentions.

You were sure that was just a rumor, but still. You didn’t want to take any chances.

“Bean, let me be there for you,” Rick said, reaching over to grasp your hand with his fingers. You noted his nails were painted a lime green. “It’ll be just like when we were kids, except now you’re older and actually cool so I won’t be embarrassed to introduce you to all my friends.” Dipping his head to the side, he wiggled his pierced brows, a grin toying on his lips as he added, “And we can smoke weed in the house.”

Pretending as if that alone was what sealed the deal, you stood swiftly. “Say less. You really should’ve started with that, Richard.” You headed off in the direction of the stairs that led up to your room, glancing over your shoulder at your brother who was staring off after you with a relieved countenance on his face. “Gimme an hour and then we can go?”

Rick answered with two thumbs up before grabbing a slice of pizza, shoving as much as he could of it into his mouth as you disappeared up the spiral staircase.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie x you #eddie x reader #billy hargrove x reader #billy x reader #billy x you #mungrove x reader #mungrove #billy hargrove smut #eddie munson smut

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oatflatwhite · 2 years

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natasha pulley trash forever, babe!

couldn't have come into my inbox at a better time, anon, considering i just finished reading pepperharrow and have started valery k and once i finish it i won't have any more pulleyverse to read whyyy

no but i am just so so so obsessed with her writing and her worldbuilding and her plotting and her characters. favourite author of all time hands down she is my bestie!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! please feel free to rant about any and all of her books at any time in my inbox mwah

#given it some thought and excluding valery k i think my ranking so far is #kingdoms > bedlam stacks > pepperharrow > watchmaker #bedlam stacks and pepperharrow are very close though and very hard to parse bc extremely different vibes #and obv i still love watchmaker! just my first impressions #after missouri though thaniel is my fav character i think #but i love all my self flagellating gay children #anon #answered #natasha pulley

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elenamegan14 · 7 months

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Yandere One Piece - Irish/Nordic Fae Folk Myth X F!Reader - Prologue

It's a spooky season, and I have yet to see any Yandere One Piece reader fics based on Slavic myths and legends! Blame me for being too invested in Bramble: the Mountain King game.

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Once, there was a childless couple who lived in a quaint village. Although the village is rich in tradition and harvest, it was also a fearsome place. Not far from them lies a great forest called the Grand Line, a home of every fae folks, each more astounding and nightmarish than man had ever known.

But that was where our story began.

One night, on a full moon during a winter’s eve, the couple is visited by a frail, old woman. They immediately brought her in, warmed her, and fed her. When all is done, she transforms into a beautiful fairy. A member of the fairy monarchy, Rogue.

To thank the couple, Rogue rewarded them with something they had yearned for years: a child. And so, on the first day of Spring, a healthy baby girl was born.

Alas, even the fairy world has it;s own rules, and the rule is crueler than the rules of mankind. A baby who is granted life by the fairy must be returned back by the ripe age of thirteen. Rogue did not want her work to go to waste, so she told the couple that they must move the child away from the village, never to enter any fairy rings at any cost, and give their child a pair of special earrings made of iron to protect them.

Thus, the family evaded the pursuit of the fae folks beyond the age of thirteen. In retaliation, the fae folks began to terrorize the villagers - they would not stop to torment them until the child was given to them. Furious at the fleeing family for putting them into this bedlam, the villagers set up a trap to return the child back to the Grand Line.

Eighteen years have passed, and the child grew up in the Kingdom of Goa. With each passing day, the blessings from Rogue had made the child cunning, wise, and attractive. The child was a curious oddity amongst her peers, but there was one person who despised her existence more so than the others.

Sarie is the daughter of a notorious monarchy in the Goa Kingdom. Although she has everything in the palm of her hand, she is wicked jealous of the child’s charm and beauty. Her opportunity stuck when a vengeful villager asked her to cooperate to rid of the child’s existence in the mortal world.

Soon after, Sarie begged her fiancee, Sterry, to arrange a special trip only for his classmates, the child included, straight to the child’s original village. Sterry and his cohorts lured the child to the edge of the forest, right before the entrance of Grand Line. Once there, Sarie threw her scarf into the middle of the fairy ring and asked the child to pick it up for her.

The child is confused. Why should she follow such a petty instruction? Also, the child pleaded that she was not supposed to enter the fairy ring at any cost. However, Sterry and their classmates loudly demanded her to do so.

When the child reluctantly tried to enter the fairy ring, Sterry once again ordered the child to take off the child’s iron earrings for Sarie. She tried to refuse but Sterry warned her that if she disobeyed, he would make sure that she became the enemy of Goa.

The child had always wanted to be accepted by Sterry and Sarie - she did not understand what she had done wrong to receive his ire. The child also knew that Sarie and Sterry’s family had more power than her family did. She hastily took off her earrings and gave them to Sarie. With a heavy heart, she entered the fairy ring.

Sterry and Sarie’s deception became light once she turned around inside the fairy ring, only to find herself alone in a strange forest. She ran back and forth, calling for her classmates.

None answered.

Alone, terrified, and confused, the child trekked into the woods of Grand Line on her own, in hoping to find her way home… not knowing that she had fulfilled her promise…

And break the village’s curse.

---

You are wandering around the fogged oath, unable to see what's beyond. Suddenly, you heard footsteps. Behind you, in front of you, everywhere! You barely have a moment's rest when a mischievous-looking human-like creature appears before your very eyes. Shrieking, you fall back behind, astounded by what you see.

"Shishishi! Did I scare you?" The creature grinned hugely, enhancing his unique shaggy features with a stitched scar underneath his left eye.

Monkey D. Luffy, the Pookah, has arrived. Next

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illyrian-dreamer · 1 year

Text

Overwritten – Part 5

Azriel x Reader

Summary: After months as his prisoner, Hybern has hijacked your mind, turning you into an enemy of your home, your family, and your mate, Azriel.

Warnings: Mentions of sex (18+)

Words: 1,925

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Part 5 ∇

The winds were unusually gentle that night, the air still and quiet as Rhys winnowed to the roof. Atop of the house, there was no sign of the chaos that had unravelled earlier, the bedlam of your latest episode concealed within the walls.

Rhys expected to find Azriel pacing, his shadows sharp with panic and fret like the all other nights. He waited for Az to approach him immediately, hazel eyes darting between his own as he begged for any good news of his mate.

But tonight the Shadowsinger stayed sitting, his long legs draped off the side of the house, shadows low as they coiled in on themselves. Rhys noted the droop of his wings, the moonlight casting a long brooding shadow behind him, almost as melancholic as him. His brother looked truly alone.

Making his way over, Rhys sat silently next to Azriel, moving his own legs over the edge of the roof. Now that he was closer, he could see the tear tracks that stained Azriel’s face, and a surge of sympathy coursed through the High Lord.

“Az–” he started, his voice laced with remorse for their brawl earlier.

“She’s stopped screaming.” Azriel’s voice was distant, and while his words clung to that last kernel of hope, his tone was flat, more defeated than it had ever sounded. His eyes didn't leave the night sky.

Rhys cleared his throat. “Yes. Feyre willed her asleep.”

Azriel nodded slowly, his gaze unmoving.

“She made progress tonight.”

Azriel cast a sideways look to Rhys, his brows pulled in question.

“Feyre and Mor. She said their names, remembered who they were.”

“Did she snap?”

“Not until she heard the other triggers.”

Azriel’s closed his eyes then, lips pressed as he prepared for what he knew Rhys would confirm. “It was my name again, wasn’t it?”

Rhys’s violet eyes darted over Azriel’s face, wincing at the pain he knew he was about to cause. After a deep breath, he answered. “Yes.”

Azriel nodded tightly, opening his eyes and returning his gaze to the array of stars above. Rhys studied him, unsure of how to comfort his brother.

It was then that Azriel truly and utterly broke. A sob escaped the male, his head falling to his hands. His body shook as silent cries escaped him, tears hidden in his palms as shadows swirled up his frame, eager to comfort their master.

Rhys was on his brother in an instant, pulling him in a tight hold. He could feel each breath the Shadowsinger took, and each cry that left in its place. “It’s alright Az, it’ll be alright,” he soothed.

Azriel couldn't respond if he wanted to. He couldn't stop his despondency from bubbling over, too overcome to pry himself from his brother, to hold himself up. All he could do was cry.

A flap of wings and a gentle thud sounded from behind them, and another set of strong arms cradled Azriel, red siphons glowing against his blue ones.

Rhys and Cassian exchanged a pained look, neither of them needing to note how rare it was to see Azriel in such a state. In fact, it was the first time for either of them.

“She made progress Az,” Cassian said gently, leaning closer to his brother’s ear.

Azriel nodded through the cries that racked through him, acknowledging the glimmer of hope that remained. It was the only thing that kept him grounded, here with his brothers. Without it, he knew he would lose himself to his rage. And his brothers – they had fought just as hard to find his mate as he had. They hadn’t stop trying now that she was home. He had never been more grateful for his family.

“M’sorry I fought you,” Azriel said, his voice shaky as his tried to get a hold of his breathing.

“Don’t be,” Rhys responded, giving him a comforting shake. “I hate to have forced you to leave, I took no pleasure in it.”

“No, no. I understand. It’s my instinct, you know? It just… it takes over and I can't find a way to stop.”

Cassian and Rhys nodded, knowing exactly how that felt.

“She’s asleep now,” Rhys added with suggestion.

Azriel snapped his head to his High Lord. “You mean–?”

“Just don't wake her.”

Azriel nodded, standing immediately at the chance to finally get close to his mate. After a few fast steps, he halted to a stop, looking back at his brothers over his shoulder. “I… I”m grateful for both of you. Thank you.”

“We know Az,” Cassian said with a small smile. “We love you too.”

————

Azriel’s hand shook against the door handle of the clinic, his own anticipation like a dog pulling on it’s lead. Pushing the door open with caution, he felt it immediately – what remained of the mating bond, while frayed and thin, began to warm from within. It sang to him, pulling him closer to the medical bed at the centre of the room.

His heart broke at the sight of you. It was the first time he had seen you since the camp, and while your skin looked brighter and your clothes were now clean, the signs of your ongoing recovery was still incredibly evident. How small and frail you looked – bruises spotted across your arms from the leather belts, your hands laced with scratch marks, and deep purple bags set under your eyes from sheer exhaustion.

It took every ounce of strength the Shadowsinger had to not caress the side of your face, to not reach out stroke your hair in the motion he knew you loved. Instead, he forced himself to sit, gripping the sides of the stool to suppress his instinct to touch you.

“Oh, Y/N,” he whispered, casting his eyes up and down your body, his brows clenched in agony. “I cannot begin to tell you how sorry I am.”

You slept, chest moving with slow breaths – unhearing, unmoving.

“They say you’re making progress my love. I'm so proud that you are trying.” Indeed, Azriel’s heart swelled at the thought. “If only I could take your pain away, or help you in some way.”

The bond warmed then, reacting on your unconscious behalf. It sparked an idea in him.

Closing his eyes, Azriel cast his most cherished memory down that golden tether, reliving the moment you accepted the mating bond.

“You’ve known for how long?” you scowled at the male, arms crossed at your chest as you tapped your foot impatiently.

“A few weeks,” Azriel replied sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head as he tried not to blush. He’d never admit it, but he was shit scared of you right now. Harsh eyes sizing him up, so demanding, so powerful. He would journey the lengths of the world just to have you set those eyes on him, even for just even a moment.

“Weeks? Azriel! You didn't think so much as to tell me?”

“I was waiting for you to feel it yourself.”

You sighed then, pinching your nose as you shook your head. You turned from him, hiding the smile that tugged at your lips. You had a mate. Azriel was your mate.

Unable to withstand his own doubts of you requiting the bond, Azriel began to babble. “It happened on Solstice, right when we exchanged our gifts. You were delighting in the ancient scrolls I got you, and when you hugged me, it snapped into place.”

“Is that why you looked so alarmed?”

“Yes. Your scent was overwhelming, it was hard to stay focused. I felt the bond then, sending trills of your own happiness coursing through my own veins. I realised then I would do anything to make you smile, to make you as happy and as joyous as you were on that day.”

Tears begin to well at your own eyes, and you turned to your mate, finding his hazel eyes shining in the same way.

“I couldn't help but thank the Cauldron for having created such a purposeful fate. Because not only was I mated to a female as kind and strong and intelligent as you, but I was mated to someone I had loved for many years prior.”

Tears flowed freely then. “Oh, Az.” You rushed to him, his large arms encompassing you as you shared you first kiss. It was passionate, yet gentle, fierce, yet loving – the true balance of the bond you began to feel forming in your own being.

“I love you too,” you smiled against his lips, a small laugh escaping you, for all that was good in the world.

Azriel’s honey eyes glowed with warmth and desire, his nose nudging yours before closing his lips over yours again. He pulled away, burying himself in your neck as he breathed in his scent. “Your are my purpose to live.”

You baked Azriel a hazelnut cake that evening, even though he insisted a slice of stale bread would have more than sufficed, his own desires to be mated making him impatient. But you were adamant on the sentiment – the cake being a personal favourite of his, and nod to your everlasting friendship as it evolved into something new. He was your best friend, and now the single most important person in your life. You wanted to cook him something as special as he.

Only a few bites of the cake were eaten before Azriel had taken you on the kitchen counter, amongst the dustings of flour and baking supplies. The sex had been gentle at first, and unlike anything you had ever felt before. Every inch of you was stimulated, physically and mentally, and the connection of the bond allowed you to share pleasure and intimacy in ways you didn't know possible. It wasn't long until your love-making become more heated – frantic and needy, completely driven by the surge of hormones and magic that bound you together.

You stayed in the cabin Azriel had brought you to, enjoying the privacy to explore your new bond. You went on walks in the forest, cuddling at the fireplace and talking through the night, discussing your upmost fears and greatest desires. Any spare moments were filled with sensual, heated sex, limbs tangled together as you sweat and writhed together, the both of you insatiable for the other.

It took a full fortnight before you could convince Azriel to return to your lives and the rest of your family, earlier suggestions being met with low growls from the Shadowsinger as a protective instinct took over, unwilling to share you with the rest of the world. You had teased him, calling him a possessive male with a roll of your eyes and a smirk on your lips. You were right, but he would not apologise for it. You were his, to love and protect and serve, from now until the end of his existence.

And from the quiet of the clinic, Azriel sent these memories down the bond.

Ever so slightly, he could feel the rope strengthen, as if old frayed tethers found new ways to weave together. He froze when you stirred, his eyes wide as he synched his breath, worried to have woken you. But you kept on sleeping, a softer expression now resting on your face, you cheeks dusted with a hint of colour.

Azriel gave a silent prayer of thanks to the Cauldron. He had finally uncovered a way to help you. Sending another course of love through to you, Azriel took a breath of contentment – his first in many months.

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Part 6 >>>

AN: Thank you to everyone who has been following this story along, I hope you liked part 5!! As always, I’d love to hear your feedback, and if you’d like to join the Overwritten tag list or my general ACOTAR one, just drop a comment below :) MUCH LOVE! ❤️❤️❤️

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