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#probably left out some of them but these are the ones that came to my mind rn
intheholler · 2 days
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the appalachian murder ballad <3 one of the most interesting elements of americana and american folk, imo!
my wife recently gave me A Look when i had one playing in the car and she was like, "why do all of these old folk songs talk about killing people lmao" and i realized i wanted to Talk About It at length.
nerd shit under the cut, and it's long. y'all been warned
so, as y'all probably know, a lot of appalachian folk music grew its roots in scottish folk (and then was heavily influenced by Black folks once it arrived here, but that's a post for another time).
they existed, as most folk music does, to deliver a narrative--to pass on a story orally, especially in communities where literacy was not widespread. their whole purpose was to get the news out there about current events, and everyone loves a good murder mystery!
as an aside, i saw someone liken the murder ballad to a ye olde true crime podcast and tbh, yeah lol.
the "original" murder ballads started back across the pond as news stories printed on broadsheets and penned in such a way that it was easy to put to melody.
they were meant to be passed on and keep the people informed about the goings-on in town. i imagine that because these songs were left up to their original orators to get them going, this would be why we have sooo many variations of old folk songs.
naturally then, almost always, they were based on real events, either sung from an outside perspective, from the killer's perspective and in some cases, from the victim's. of course, like most things from days of yore, they reek of social dogshit. the particular flavor of dogshit of the OG murder ballad was misogyny.
so, the murder ballad came over when the english and scots-irish settlers did. in fact, a lot of the current murder ballads are still telling stories from centuries ago, and, as is the way of folk, getting rewritten and given new names and melodies and evolving into the modern recordings we hear today.
305 such scottish and english ballads were noted and collected into what is famously known as the Child Ballads collected by a professor named francis james child in the 19th century. they have been reshaped and covered and recorded a million and one times, as is the folk way.
while newer ones continued to largely fit the formula of retelling real events and murder trials (such as one of my favorite ones, little sadie, about a murderer getting chased through the carolinas to have justice handed down), they also evolved into sometimes fictional, (often unfortunately misogynistic) cautionary tales.
perhaps the most famous examples of these are omie wise and pretty polly where the woman's death almost feels justified as if it's her fault (big shocker).
but i digress. in this way, the evolution of the murder ballad came to serve a similar purpose as the spooky legends of appalachia did/do now.
(why do we have those urban legends and oral traditions warning yall out of the woods? to keep babies from gettin lost n dying in them. i know it's a fun tiktok trend rn to tell tale of spooky scary woods like there's really more haints out here than there are anywhere else, but that's a rant for another time too ain't it)
so, the aforementioned little sadie (also known as "bad lee brown" in some cases) was first recorded in the 1920s. i'm also plugging my favorite female-vocaist cover of it there because it's superior when a woman does it, sorry.
it is a pretty straightforward murder ballad in its content--in the original version, the guy kills a woman, a stranger or his girlfriend sometimes depending on who is covering it.
but instead of it being a cautionary 'be careful and don't get pregnant or it's your fault' tale like omie wise and pretty polly, the guy doesn't get away with it, and he's not portrayed as sympathetic like the murderer is in so many ballads.
a few decades after, women started saying fuck you and writing their own murder ballads.
in the 40s, the femme fatale trope was in full swing with women flipping the script and killing their male lovers for slights against them instead.
men began to enter the "find out" phase in these songs and paid up for being abusive partners. women regained their agency and humanity by actually giving themselves an active voice instead of just being essentially 'fridged in the ballads of old.
her majesty dolly parton even covered plenty of old ballads herself but then went on to write the bridge, telling the pregnant-woman-in-the-murder-ballad's side of things for once. love her.
as a listener, i realized that i personally prefer these modern covers of appalachian murder ballads sung by women-led acts like dolly and gillian welch and even the super-recent crooked still especially, because there is a sense of reclamation, subverting its roots by giving it a woman's voice instead.
meaning that, like a lot else from the problematic past, the appalachian murder ballad is something to be enjoyed with critical ears. violence against women is an evergreen issue, of course, and you're going to encounter a lot of that in this branch of historical music.
but with folk songs, and especially the murder ballad, being such a foundational element of appalachian history and culture and fitting squarely into the appalachian gothic, i still find them important and so, so interesting
i do feel it's worth mentioning that there are "tamer" ones. with traditional and modern murder ballads alike, some of them are just for "fun," like a murder mystery novel is enjoyable to read; not all have a message or retell a historical trial.
(for instance, i'd even argue ultra-modern, popular americana songs like hell's comin' with me is a contemporary americana murder ballad--being sung by a male vocalist and having evolved from being at the expense of a woman to instead being directed at a harmful and corrupt church. that kind of thing)
in short: it continues to evolve, and i continue to eat that shit up.
anyway, to leave off, lemme share with yall my personal favorite murder ballad which fits squarely into murder mystery/horror novel territory imo.
it's the 10th child ballad and was originally known as "the twa sisters." it's been covered to hell n back and named and renamed.
but! if you listen to any flavor of americana, chances are high you already know it; popular names are "the dreadful wind and rain" and sometimes just "wind and rain."
in it, a jealous older sister pushes her other sister into a river (or stream, or sea, depending on who's covering it) over a dumbass man. the little sister's body floats away and a fiddle maker come upon her and took parts of her body to make a fiddle of his own. the only song the new fiddle plays is the tale about how it came to be, and it is the same song you have been listening to until then.
how's that for genuinely spooky-scary appalachia, y'all?
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voxsmistress · 3 days
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Mama Didn't Raise No Bimbo - Part EIGHT!!!
HOLD onto your hats people this is a long one!!! Please let me know if you’re enjoying this guys – your comments absolutely make my day and make these sleepless nights writing this completely worth it!!
“Enjoy your shower, Y/n. We will see you after it, we have much to discuss” he crooned at you. Smirk growing when your gaze narrowed. Yanking your wrist out of his grip you stepped away. Winking as he disappeared when the elevator doors shut you released a nervous breath. Facing the other Overlord who was eyeing you up, displeased with what she was seeing she tutted at you.
“You gotta learn to step away when things go boom babe, blood is not kind to your clothes! Come on, lets get you cleaned up”, she slips her hand into yours pulling you through a living room and into a massive bathroom. Wait … she’s not gonna clean you right?
Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six / Part Seven / Part Eight / Part Nine / Part Ten
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Thankfully (or not depending on your view) Velvette left you alone in the shower, just popping a towel and some clothes on the side before whisking herself off out of the room but not before giving you a cheeky wink and promising next time she’ll help wash your back.
Red faced you stood in the stream of hot water – scrubbing viciously at your skin to remove the blood splatters and stains from the alabaster skin. You would enjoy the smell of the blackberry and pomegranate shower scrub you were using but you were too focused on the conversation that was going to occur as soon as you got out of this bathroom. Debating on whether you could hide in here forever, you figured probably not. Well, you could try but knowing the three Vee’s one of them would break down the door and fetch you.
Lathering up your hair with the shampoo you watch the bubbles drop down at your feet: a mixture of pinks and reds. Ick, was all that blood in your hair? You didn’t dare look at yourself in the mirror when you walked in. Scared of what you would see. It had been so long since you had last used your shriek that you nearly forgot the carnage that came with it. There should be a splash zone warning. Shampooing once more to make sure all the blood was out of it you then condition it, hoping the blood hadn’t stained your hair. That would suck!
Taking your sweet ass time in the shower you had washed every single piece of skin, hair and scrubbed all your nails and huffed. You couldn’t put off getting out any longer. If you did it would just be your lucky for one of them to pick the lock and come get you, naked or not. Wrapping the fluffy towel around your body you wipe the steam from the mirror and observe the tired look on your own face. Glad to see the makeup had thankfully come off with the scrubbing you had done in the shower you suddenly felt more naked. When you had your makeup on it was like a mask you could hide behind. No hiding now. You wrap your hair up in the small towel then dry the rest of your body off.
Let’s see what clothes Velvette had left you. Frowning at the bra and underwear you grumbled under your breath. How the fuck did she know your size? Taking the new tags off them (why would she have new ones in your size anyway?) you slide them on grudgingly, course they fit like a glove. A black short sleeved t-shirt and high waisted black cargo pants were next – fitting again perfectly but at least they weren’t revealing. Or not revealing in the sense you were showing skin, but the t-shirt clung to you as a second skin and the pants followed the curve of your waist over your hips making your hourglass figure pop. You had to give props Velvette, even her casual outfits looked cute. You wonder if you could order more of these off her? Looking around for your blood-soaked clothes and boots you realised they weren’t in the bathroom anymore. Did you miss her coming in? What the hell? Wriggling your blackened toes on the cold tile you worried your bottom lip.
Shaking your drying hair out of the towel you give it a quick brush with a spare hairbrush you found on the side, slicking it back from your face. Catching sight of yourself in the mirror you give a fierce scowl. Come on Y/n! When have you ever been afraid to face anyone? Well … apart from Alastor but that Radio Demon had a reputation for eating people!
Done with the pity party you ready to leave the bathroom, steeling yourself. Grasping the door handle you take a deep breath in and out and then leave the safety of the room. Here goes nothing.
Grateful that they had carpet instead of tiles you let your feet lead you down the hallway to the living room that Velvette had dragged you through before. Heart pounding more and more with each step you try and breathe steadily. If you faint before you even get to the living room somehow you doubt the Vee’s would ever let you forget it.
Entering the living room, you see all three of them sat down, Vox and Velvette on the sofa and Valentino on his own in a purple and gold armchair (though ‘throne’ should have been a more apt description) all on their phones and murmuring to each other every so often. It would be quite a homey docile scene if your dead heart didn’t feel like it was about to keel over. Quietly clearing your throat, you gain their attention. Vox and Velvette’s head twist sideways to look at you while Valentino peeks over his shoulder with a flirtatious smile: “Princessa finally, we thought we were going to have to come get you”.
“Sorry about that, it seemed the blood just didn’t want to get out of my hair” you chuckled, pushing back the nerves you take a few more steps into the room lion’s den. Vox motioned to another armchair that was placed in front of the TV, you would be the focus of the three. Great.
You calmly walk to the armchair, not wanting them to know how nervous you were. The cushions sunk a little as you sat down, if you weren’t facing these three you would happily sink into this chair. It had to be one of the most comfortable things you’ve ever sat on. Crossing your legs you place your hands in your lap, back straight and head turned so you could see all of them. Time to get serious.
“So?” You start, looking questioningly at Vox – who was sat in the middle – as you were sure he was the one that would lead this conversation. His responding smile was almost shark-like. And Hell, didn’t it get your motors running. Wait no. Bad Y/n FOCUS!
“So y/n, before you had to run off and wash off all that – uh – blood you were going to confess how you killed those sinners with only a small cut to show for it”. Eyebrow raising in question, if you knew he wasn’t a manipulative bastard you’d have believed that his tone was kind. Hmm. To lie or tell the truth. What to do.
“I exploded their brains causing their entire head to detonate like a watermelon” you explain with a deadpan expression. Truth it is then. Your amusement rose when they all looked at you with shocked faces. Where was a camera when you needed one.
“You … uh you what?” Allowing a small smirk on your lips you make eye contact with Vox. Yeah, not so smug now are ya.
“I raised my voice to such a high frequency that it vibrated their brains so much that they exploded, thus causing their skulls to detonate into millions of pieces – so messy but oh so effective, don’t cha think?” you thoroughly explained, keeping the eye contact with the TV Demon. Your smirk growing larger when you observed him shift uncomfortably in his seat. Good. You hoped he was thinking what would happen to him if you used your shriek. A flicker down his body told you he was enjoying whatever thought had occurred to him.
“Princessa? You are saying you killed these sinners with just your voice?” Turning your attention to the Moth Overlord, you smile prettily at him.
“Yes”. Simply put. “Didn’t Vox show you the footage?” Tilting your head as you question them. The sharp looks the two gave Vox gave you a little bit of satisfaction. Sheepishly holding his hands up as if he was innocent, he shook his head.
“I was just waiting for Y/n to give me approval to show you both”, narrowing your eyes it took everything in you to hold in the snort of amusement. When does he ever wait for anyone’s approval to share anything?
You motion with your hand for him to show them the video footage, tearing your gaze away to focus on the bookcase across the room when you see his screen flicker starting the video. You might not be able to see it but the sounds were enough to make you flinch – thankful when you started to shriek Vox muted the sound. You don’t think you’d live much longer if by rewatching the scene you accidentally explode the Vee’s brains. Though Alastor would be forever in your debt. Hmm…
At the clearing of a throat, you turn your attention back to them. Velvette looked impressed, Valentino amused and Vox … well he looked like you were a shiny new toy that he really wanted to play with.
“Well babe, I knew you had fire in you but girl!” Velvette was the first to break the silence as she laughed. Somehow that put you a bit at ease. You weren’t sure how they other two would react but amusement you could deal with.
“What? You didn’t think I was just a pretty face now did ya?” a quick wink towards her made her laugh more. Valentino joined in, smoke billowing from his cigarette.
After a few moments they settled, both their gazes shifting to Vox who was sat in the middle with his arms crossed and a mischievous smile on his screen. That can’t be good for you.
“The only thing now is, what do we do with the footage?” He asked, eyebrows quirking at you. Steeling yourself you lean your elbows on your knees. Here was the tricky bit. How to convince him to not show the footage but making it seem like it was his idea.  
“I suppose that is up to you Vox, I’d ask if you could delete it but that’s your footage and your decision now” you reply simply. You weren’t going to beg. You weren’t going to give him the satisfaction. A flicker of surprise flashed across his screen before he narrowed his eyes at you.
“And if I decided to share it with our adoring public?” He asked, thinking he had that over you. The fact you kept your private life completely out of your social media – no one knew what you did privately which obviously did not go unnoticed with Vox. You didn’t give out where you lived, not who you were before hell and not even your favourite drink unless you personally gave that information out online, every single post, message and picture had a reasoning and motivation behind it. You built your life in hell on only showing one side of you: the sexy bimbo who had a good set of lungs for singing. A piece of eye candy. Someone people weren’t afraid of talking in front of as they didn’t think you’d remember or understand what they were saying. The release of this footage could ruin that image. If the public realised that you had power in your voice you might not get any more jobs. Demons and sinners would fear your singing. You could lose all the hard work you’ve put into lying under the radar. All that hard work slowly climbing up the ladder gaining more and more power.
But if you kept it quiet, if it wasn’t shown and the Vee’s used it as a way to get you into a deal then you would be under their wing. Under their power. And you were really tired of being in the shadow of other Overlords.
“I suppose then the public would hear my real voice – my persona and image I have put out has served me well. But, with demons and sinners knowing that it takes only one moment of hearing my shriek to drown them in their own blood that will gain me more respect, fear and power. You are probably doing me a favour actually” you muse, tapping your chin with your blackened finger. Pretending to consider the possibility of what you just said, a sadistic smile broke across your lips.
It grew when you saw Vox’s expression darken, another flicker down his body you were surprised to see something making an appearance in his trousers. Pocketing that piece of information away for later, you raise an eyebrow at him. His move. Velvette and Valentino looking between you both, giving each other a malicious grin. After a few moments he raised his phone that was in his hand. Clicking a few buttons before putting it down on the arm of the sofa. Shit. Had he sent it out to the rest of Hell?
A harsh buzzing on the coffee table in the middle of you all made you glance down. Your phone! Seeing a notification from Vox light up the screen – since when did you have his number? You grab it, clicking on the notification it comes up with the video file. Had he sent it to you?
Your gaze back up on the smirking TV Demon, arms laying on the back of the sofa he was fully relaxed: “oh don’t worry my little Songbird, you are the only person in Hell with that video now.” Confused you place your phone back on the table. Wait what? Wasn’t he going to use it to blackmail you into making a deal? He laughed as you carried on staring at him. “Did you think I was going to try and force you into a deal y/n?” Nodding at the obvious answer, he just laughed more. “No, not this time. You’ve managed to surprise me, not many have achieved that. I want to see what else you have hidden behind those lovely violet eyes of yours before I claim your soul”, his eyes darkened again while his voice deepened with static at the end. Biting your lip, you push the blush away that wanted to burst out on your cheeks. Breath y/n.
Least you knew his angle now.  Nodding to him, you look to the other two who had been suspiciously quiet. “I don’t suppose you’d mind keeping this to yourselves as well, would you?” You ask them, hoping they’d agree.
Velvette smirked at you before rolling her eyes: “babes, happy to keep it quiet for now but as soon as you wanna tell people you’ve gotta let me design the outfit you are gonna wear! I’m thinking Siren – all out mankiller outfit, yea? Lemme get some designs drawn up!” She was up and out of her seat before you could even blink. Amused, you let your gaze go to the smoking Moth Overlord. His tinted glasses made it a little hard to read him. Unless he was shouting or flirting you couldn’t really tell what he was thinking. You could see why him and Vox were a couple.
After a few more puffs of his cigarette, he shrugged his shoulders with a playful grin. “My lips are sealed here, mi cariño. Knowing you have that gorgeous scream that could kill makes me think of all sorts of ideas – you’d be surprised how many have a kink where they want their partner to kill them”. Pretty sure your eyebrows have been lost in your hairline.
“Really?” the question escaped your lips before you could do anything to stop it. Leaning forwards in his chair, smoke blowing towards you his smile grew making his gold tooth flash in the light.
“Yes, my Princessa … would you like me to show you some vi”-
“-no, no that’s fine thank you!” You interrupted him, not able to hide the blush this time making his and Vox’s smile grow wickedly.
“So shy when we speak about sex, amore, you make me curious” ooh it is definitely time to go now! Chuckling nervously, you brush it off and make a show of looking around.
“Don’t suppose you guys know where my clothes and boots went do ya?” Are you changing the subject? You betcha!
Taglist: @tasha-1994  @azullynxx  @reath-solia @leathesimp @klorinda @twinklethewarrior
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deathbecomesthem · 16 hours
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Kiss The Cook 5 | 1.5K
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Linecook!Eddie Munson x Server!Reader
18+ ONLY, MDNI with any of my work.
Summary: Eddie and Server get deep into their heads when we decide he might be able to sell us weed.
We get a couple hundred words of an Eddie POV here.
---
Keith, your ex, had a weed man. The years that you were with Keith, you could hand him some cash, and 24 hours later you’d have a few pre-rolled joints and some loose bud for your pipe. For all you knew, Keith was actually the weed man, because you never got to meet the guy on the other side of the transaction. It was easy. It was nice. It was one of the reasons you kept Keith around longer than a person with good sense should have. 
You know Eddie smokes weed, it’s hard to mistake that smell hiding under the soap, deodorant, and laundry detergent. You also suspect that he at least dabbles in selling. It’s not that you’ve seen any money or drugs changing hands at the diner. You think Benny would probably drag Eddie out of the place by his hair if he ever caught wind of that, and Eddie respects Benny too much to take advantage of his place like that. It’s the people he knows. It’s the way he leans in to listen to a friend when he stops by. The way he says, “Come by at 8 and I’ll have your stuff for you,” before slapping their shoulders and grinning.
You have a lot of regrets about your time with Keith, but the biggest regret is not asking him to explain how to acquire marijuana. Yes, Eddie has the drugs you want. Yes, he will probably sell to you. Yes, you have cash. No, you have no idea how to use that information to actually get the weed in your hand. You consider doing what the guys that stop by do, you can almost imagine yourself leaning in close so that the hair that hangs around his ears would tickle your nose. You’d say -
-what, exactly? Hey, can I buy some pot from you? No, that won’t work. You’re standing inside the small stock room at the back of the restaurant, staring at the folded up bar towels fresh from the laundry service while you ponder how to buy drugs from the line cook you definitely don’t have feelings for. You definitely didn’t go out with him a few nights ago for the first time ever, and it definitely wasn’t abso-fucking-lutely impossible to read how he feels about you. You should be in the dining room right now bussing the dirty tables left after the lunch rush, it’s only an hour to close. Instead, you stand and look at the terry cloth rags, frozen with a feeling of anxiety that isn’t warranted by your current situation. You realize you’re worried that Eddie would think you’re uncool if you ask him the wrong way - an idea that makes you cringe at your own stupidity.
“Idiot,” you mutter to yourself under your breath before reaching out and finally grabbing two towels and the bottle of spray cleaner on the shelf next to them.
“Who’s an idiot?” Eddie’s question makes you jump. Your brain processes that he’s standing behind you, and you wonder if you said anything else you were thinking out loud instead within the safe confines of your skull. He’s standing too close when you turn to face him, you lean back a little to give yourself the room to answer him.
“Just me, I’m an idiot.” You answer as you sidle past his imposing frame. He follows you back into the kitchen empty handed, apparently forgetting whatever it was that drove him into the stock room in the first place.
“Are you ok? What happened? Did that guy do something again?” Eddie’s sounding upset. Concerned. Last week one of your regulars put his hand on your ass, and it shook you up pretty good. You didn’t tell Eddie about it until days later, after you’d already warned the guy that if he came back, you’d break his hand. You’d been worried that Eddie, or Benny, would do something profoundly stupid if they saw him in the diner again.
“No, that guy won’t be back. It’s nothing like that,” you turn back around and find him standing too close again. You step back, “I’m just being an idiot. It happens sometimes. Let’s just get the fuck out of here, ok?”
Eddie’s eyes probe your face, looking for any hint of something more serious than what you’ve told him. It makes you feel warm. It makes you want to pull the neck of your shirt up over your nose to hide yourself from his gaze. He doesn’t seem to notice your discomfort, just nods his head, puts up a hand, and heads back to the kitchen.
The next 90 minutes is spent with you both performing your well rehearsed dance, though you find yourself a little out of step. Your mind is occupied, playing and replaying scenarios in your head. The idea that you need to buy weed from Eddie isn’t a flight of fancy anymore, it’s a looming cloud of uncertainty. It’s when you’re refilling the ketchup bottles that you realize what has to be done, and a weight is lifted. Because it’s not even about the weed anymore, it’s about you and Eddie. It’s about getting out of your head and talking to him without worrying about how he’ll think of you. It’s about letting yourself see where this thing might go, even if it means you end traveling as far as a closer friendship.
“Eddie,” you call behind your shoulder as you finish wiping down the counter between the bar and the line, “do you sell weed?”
“Me? Sell weed?” You can hear him scoffing along with the sound of him stacking the plates from the last load of dishes. “Yeah, of course I do.”
“Let’s talk after work.”
Talk. That’s what it is. A casual conversation where neither you nor Eddie know your roles. Those simple transactions are easy for him. Friendly. But when it comes to you, he’s tongue tied. He has a hard time listening to what you’re saying. You don’t know it, but right now he’s distracted by the way he can see the indents on your bottom lip. He’s seen your lip pulled into your mouth, absentmindedly biting down, on moments of concentration. It’s all he can see, it’s all he can think about. So, this simple transaction where he gets your order, just like when he’s working the line in the kitchen through the door behind your back, it’s a mindless task. But those marks on your lip.
“...so I thought, ‘what the hell’, ya know? Eddie’s not gonna be a dick to me. Judge me, maybe, but no more than he does when I order a reuben with provolone instead of swiss.”
Eddie tuned in at the wrong moment, because the context for what you’re asking of him is lost in your rambling. He has no fucking clue what you’re talking about. He nods every so often when you look at him, obviously hoping for some kind of affirmation. Sure, whatever you want. Have I told you how much I like the way your smile is crooked? The left side shoots up higher than the right, and I think about kissing you there every time I see it. Eddie nods again, noticing that sneaky crawl of your lip.
“-Ok, so why don’t you just come over? You know where my place is, right? Just come over right now and we’ll figure this shit out.” Eddie asks. He doesn’t know it, but his entire face is open to you. Head dipped down so that he’s looking up at you. Head cocked at the position of a kiss. His mouth is closed, full lips lightly pressed together.
Eddie thinks the world has stopped turning. The moment after the words leave his lips pauses. Everything is slowed down to a single second. He can see the exact millisecond when the words register in your brain and you begin to consider them. He’s a scholar when it comes to the ways you face moves. He can tell when you’ve not slept well in the morning, he can predict your menstrual cycle down to within 24 hours of the first cramp. He’s watching the crease between your eyes. He’s watching the bridge of your nose. He sees it all, and holds his breath. His feet can feel the hard asphalt as he walks to his car, to run from the “no” that might be coming. He’s ready, your lips part, and your chest expands. You’re going to say -
“Sure,” your words are accompanied by a lifting of the corner of the side of your mouth, “I’ll follow you home.”
---
Taglist: @taccobelle @starksbabie @sheneedsrocknroll92
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heartsformars · 2 days
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Under my wing~ hazbin hotel ships & Child! Reader
(platonic ofc)
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CHARACTERS: Charlie & Vaggie, Angel Dust & Husk and featuring Alastor as the single dad!!
TW: Abandonment involved, mention of Valentino , alastor being an exemplary father (sarcasm), bad jokes, the reader is a hellborn, drama, reader being tortured (i.e. going through puberty).
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One rainy day, a crying mother would leave her little baby in a dumpster, hoping someone else would find they or hopefully, they would die. She would leave, not knowing what would happen to you or how you would protect yourself from the dangers of hell. That place, which in spite of its high temperature could be considered cold, and unfortunately you had to learn that as soon as you arrived in the underworld. However, a shadow would be seen in that alley after hearing your cries of despair.Saving you (possibly) from dying under the hands of other foul demons But who is it…
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───────────────── ✦
CHARLIE & VAGGIE
The one that got you home was definitely Charlie Could you blame her? She thought you were so cute! How could anyone leave you alone at such a young age? However, she still had a little bit of her girlfriend's reaction. -Vaggie, what would you do if one day I came home with a baby? -Show both hands charlie - -probably at first she would refuse, a baby was a lot of responsibility, and they already had enough with the hotel however it would be easy to convince her with your and Charlie's gaze. -She would just sigh and say she was fine with it while Charlie died of emotion and you just laughed. -Listen, they are both very attentive and would accept your every decision as mothers, there is really no way you wouldn't feel loved with them. -when they are both busy they will probably leave you with someone from the hotel. Neither of them trust Alastor, sir pentious was too distracted, Angel dust was definitely a bad choice and nifty wasn't even an option so you'll most likely be left in charge of Husk. -you'd probably just be sitting at the bar while angel dust is trying to convince you to say a bad word or give the poor bartender the middle finger. -Husk would just look at him with contempt. -However, when vaggie comes back from her errand and goes to see you, she's probably in for a surprise.
-How are you doing honey, husk take good care of you?- -Mama, you, fak you, dumb- -WHAT- -and you've got angel dust laughing on the stairs. -Probably after that Charlie would give a talk on respect (with you present obviously). -Although after she reconciled with her father she would definitely be Charlie's first choice to leave you in charge. -Although she was a bit scared at first, her father took it well so she didn't worry so much. -now, lucifer would be a BUNCH OF NERVES. He would grab you like you were some kind of crystal figure being afraid to drop you at some point. -after all you are his baby's baby! And his daughter hates him again if he throws you off the fifth floor? -he would probably keep you distracted with some rubber duckies and make some specials for you and keep you dristraide while he figures out what activities to do with you. -he haven't babysat a child like this in a long time. -however, it all works out (surprisingly) well! Even Charlie almost cries when she sees her dad asleep on the couch with you asleep on his chest. (She didn't bother to wake you two up) -now, I really don't think Charlie would be so strict with you, she wouldn't let you do whatever you wanted, but she would leave some room for your freedom and development! -on the other hand vaggie... -she's really not THAT strict but she won't have Mercy when it comes to punishing you when you do something wrong.  -If you break a window accidentally don't think you'll get away with it, she'll probably make you replace it yourself to learn the consequences of your actions.  -Other than that, however, they were both very patient with you. Always being there for you every step of the way. -And then after that you hit puberty. -They would probably have a hard time with your mood swings and other teenage problems. -however, they would always try to understand what you're feeling and not judge you for anything. -Especially Charlie -Now, if you introduced they to a boyfriend/girlfriend… -God, they would be in a mental duel, both of them. -However, the one who accepted your partner as part of her family first was definitely Charlie. -And vaggie would be fine with that! However, expect her to be watching you two 24/7. -But it's great to meet someone who makes our little baby so happy!- -Yeah…-
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-Feel that they would both try to get you to have a certain part of their personality. However, you have the choice of how to be in the end and they couldn't force you to be something you don't want, neither of them 💓. -10/10 Mothers, I would let them adopt me.
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HUSK & ANGEL DUST
The one who took you to the hotel for the first time was Angel, I doubt that Husk leaves the hotel much outside of going to the casino or to a tavern... or both. -I mean, everyone was surprised when ANGEL DUST came with a baby to the hotel but it was fine for everyone. -Except for husk -There's no way you're planning on taking care of that kid! -Listen, I found him in a dumpster, all alone with no one to take care of him. I had to bring it in, who knows what would have happened to it if I left it there!  -A child is not some kind of fucking joke, you know very well the contracts we're in. You, and me. If we're not free we doubt very much that child can be… -There would probably be a little dispute, however Husk would accept it... not so fast. Eventually he'll warm up to you, though, don't worry .-Charlie or vaggie will probably always find him sitting at the bar with you while he's looking his usual sour self. -although Charlie finds it mildly endearing-Angel dust hurts to leave you with Fat nuggets when he has to go somewhere fast. -and if he didn't, his first choice of nanny would probably be Charlie. -And she'd be happy to take care of you -she'd definitely spoil you with gifts and say things like "where's baby" -And on your birthday she would be the first to give you clothes or a toy. -and angel dust loves being able to have someone to leave you with when Val got heavy and Husk was too busy.  -And even though Angel loves you very much sometimes (could) become a bad influence.... -but when that happens Husk is usually there to scold him.... -Husk wouldn't like you interacting with Alastor very much -even if he keeps a "good" attitude towards you he is afraid that he might use you as something to threaten him or that he might hurt you  -and whenever he sees him trying to approach you he tries to intervene in some way.... -Oh but who could this little sweetie be- -and you have husk taking you in his arms making some silly excuse like "oh they’re hungry" or "it's just that it's bedtime!" when it literally might be three in the afternoon -although you wouldn't always be a child, and that was something they both knew. -but when you actually reach puberty… -And from then on Angel would have to learn to share his animal companion (and comfort) fat nuggets -The one who would know the most how to help you and listen to you would be Husk, he would definitely give the best advice for your worst situations. -And even if angel really can't even help himself, he will try to help you and support you in everything. -Overall good parents, 9/10 if I would let him adopt me, my parents, I love them,
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ALASTOR
-At the beginning, he saw you as a potential apprentice. -wouldn't really feel much of a parental attachment to you, he would use you mainly for his own convenience. -After all, every "mastermind" needs an apprentice, right? -although just because you are an avenue to continue his power doesn't mean he won't take proper care of you. -he would mainly leave you with Rosie and satan, you would find out everything from her. -and she would definitely spoil you as if you were her little girl. -she would be like that cool aunt who always sends you gifts lol -and you would ADORE her -Alastor would have passive-aggressive parenting with you. -you know when he gets mad even if he doesn't look mad, it's the experience I guess -surprisingly, even with alastor as a caregiver I feel like you wouldn't be as much of a son of a bitch as he is… at least hopefully… -you would get along with most of the people in the hotel except for husk -I wouldn't trust you much but i wouldn't hate you, just keep your distance -would teach you a lot of his tactics and powers -you would probably always try to smile like him to keep up the habit -although sometimes you forget and you're just serious, although he would take care to remind you every time he sees you TOO serious. -in general he would try to make you not to make his mistakes, since you were a child he would fill you with discreet lessons that will eventually serve you when you grow up, trust him… but be careful of his advice too. -ok, alastor has a few scores to settle with many of the sinners and overlords so don't be surprised if you have some idiots behind you trying to kill you lol -though don't worry, you'll always have your "father' to have your back. -although of the main ones would be vox, however as long as you don't pay much attention to him and stay out of his conflicts I doubt he'll do much against you. -he will probably call you by nicknames like "sweetheart", "little lady" (if you are a woman) or "darling" but never daughter or son -you are really just his apprentice, as I said before he doesn't see you as a real son or daughter -but if you call him father he wouldn't mind, but I'm not sure if he would be happy about it or not. -but he probably doesn't even care lol -6/10 as a father, at least he cares and protects you but you are not so much like a child to him
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— This wasn't something I had planned to write, it just came out lol but I hope you enjoy it anyway, I don't have any requests right now and I have TOO MUCH things I want to write so expect anything from me these days.
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ur-local-snowman · 7 hours
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MerShark!Soap x Human!Ghost
Not really following any MerMay prompts, just something I came up with. Also posted on my Twitter
Part 1/???
Ghost oftentimes found himself wandering down to the piers late at night to clear his mind. Open areas, fresh air, clear starry skies; nothing but the wind and the sounds of nature around him to interrupt his thoughts. It was quiet. Simple. Just how he'd liked it to be.
He was alone with his thoughts, mulling over the days work, reworking situations and how he could've done better in arguments. Sometimes he even brought a notebook to write things down, lest he forget them.
He preferred to be alone in his time down at the pier. No one for him to look after and no one to watch him. At least, that's what he thought. Ghost had been sitting down at the pier, shoes and socks off, and pants rolled up to his knees as he let his legs dangle over the edge and in the water; cool waves splashing over his skin.
Everything was how it normally was. Quiet while he was supposedly alone with his thoughts.
Underneath the surface of the water, however, Lie another being. Just far enough down to not be seen as he watched Ghost with curious eyes.
Soap was a curious fellow. He liked to travel, never known to stick in one place for very long as he got bored rather quickly. He wanted to explore, see knew things, meet knew people. But when he came across This large, mysterious human sitting at the pier on his own, Soap wanted to know what he was about.
He never saw the man with friends. Or with anyone for that matter. Did he have friends? Or family, or a partner? Soap wanted to know about him.
All throughout his travels, only one thing stood consistent. One thing everyone told him. Stay away from the humans. "They're dangerous creatures who'll hunt you for sport and kill you for fun." His Ma told him as such when he was young.
Not wanting to worry her, he kept his distance. Diving away from boats, keeping away from divers. He never found himself drawn to them like he did with everything else. That is... Until he'd seen Ghost.
The man intrigued him like nothing he'd ever seen before. He felt a sort of... Pull to him. His mother's words stayed in the back of his mind as he continued to watch this man. Every night like clockwork, he arrived, took off his shoes, and dropped his feet in the water.
He stayed for hours alone before the sun started to rise. Then he'd get up and leave. Sometimes he'd stay awake, other times he'd fall asleep on the pier.
It wasn't until a couple weeks of watching that soap started getting bolder. Swimming closer, yet still hidden. Another few weeks and he made himself comfy under the pier where he could go past the surface without being seen.
There were times where during the day soap would collect small items and trinkets he finds, setting them up on the pier before the man arrives, leaving then for him to find.
Ghost thought it was strange how random items would find their way into the wooden boardwalk every once in a while. Nothing significant enough to make any sort of pattern that'd indicate who they belonged to. Only that when he found them, they were all soaked, as if they'd been pulled out the water.
Most of the items were small, insignificant. Random jewelry pieces, broken, waterlogged phones, trash that were thrown away, probably from a cruise ship or sail boat. Ghost sifted through these piles, picked out what he thought would be nice to keep and left the rest. No one would come looking for them, right?
Each time there were different items.
He'd started taking note of the different items, joked to himself that he had some sort of secret admirer. Little did he know how true such a thing was..
- TBC -
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youryurigoddess · 1 day
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Aziraphale’s wine
It is a truth universally acknowledged in the Good Omens fandom that an angel in need of a drink turns to his secret stash of Châteauneuf-du-Pape in the back room. He picked up a dozen cases in 1921, and a whole century later there's still some left… for special occasions.
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Just to put things in perspective, a standard case contains 12 750ml bottles, for a total of 9 liters of wine. A dozen cases equals 144 bottles, or 108 liters of wine. That’s quite a lot for a single purchase, so Aziraphale — the established sherry and sweet drinks connoisseur — must have had a good reason for it.
One potential explanation is the aura of grandeur around this particular wine. The papal connection, rich history of the region, and recognition of high quality products give Châteauneuf-du-Pape wines a very luxurious status, considerably influencing their price tags. And Aziraphale is known to have standards.
Another one is the way in which their taste differs from Aziraphale’s usual choices: Châteauneuf-du-Pape reds are often described as earthy with gamey flavors that have hints of tar and leather. The wines are considered tough and tannic in their youth, but maintain their rich spiciness as they age.
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Since everything in Good Omens has a meaning, it never hurts to run through a quick Strong’s Concordance search whenever a date pops up in a dialogue or, even more importantly, somewhere on screen. More often than not the result seems to match the researched topic, as it’s the case here:
1921: to know exactly, to recognize.
Provided examples: I come to know by directing my attention to him or it, I perceive, discern, recognize; I found out. The general usage of the word usually refers to knowing someone aptly, properly, thoroughly, even biblically. Which might be either a wishful thinking on Aziraphale’s part or just another layer of subtext in this already romantically charged scene. The table dressing, multiple candles, and focus on the lamps with Auguste Moreau’s Young Lovers statues in the background seem to successfully communicate what the angel left unsaid.
Too bad that Crowley remained so adorably oblivious for the next eighty years. At least when he finally came to the realization, he responded with an attempted temptation to another vintage red wine @vidavalor already analyzed.
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But back to Aziraphale’s wine. To be exact, it’s a 1921 Châteauneuf-du-Pape from the domaine de Baban. An actual French vineyard from the Rhône region that still exists to this day, even though a few decades ago it got merged with another estate into what is now known as domaine Riché-Baban. According to the local guides, the 11 hectares on the estate are located in the Châteauneuf-du-Pape designation area in the Bois Lauzon and Mourre de Baud districts. At the moment 90% of the wines produced there are sent to wine dealers.
1920s were quite an interesting time for this region, but not because of the flapper cabarets or drag shows usually associated with the era on the Old Continent. To the horror of European oenophiles, right after World War I the whole of France found itself awash with fake wine. One of the worst outrages was the use of lead that magically transformed cheap, acid wine into something deceptively rich and sweet on the outside and one of the most powerful neurotoxins on the inside. People were already well aware of its effects — the poisoning from drinking sweetened wine probably made Handel go blind and Beethoven go deaf, but it shows how desperate for sweetness they were before sugar became available to the masses.
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Admittably, it wasn’t a new practice. Far from it — the Romans liked it so much that they even advised to pack lead pans on travels to boil local wine in them to make it sweeter, especially in colder provinces like Britannia. But Aziraphale didn’t buy twelve cases of counterfeit wine for the sake of some good memories of Rome and its many health hazards. No, the fussy angel made sure to get the actually good stuff from the other side of the English Channel.
Henry Tacussel, whose name is mentioned on his wine label, was a French viticulturalist and a close friend of Baron Pierre Le Roy of the Chateau Fortia nearby, a trained lawyer and fellow winegrower from Châteauneuf-du-Pape who established the Winegrowers' Union of the Rhône Valley. Together with the Baron he became one of the founders of Appellation d'origine contrôlée (AOC), a labeling system intended to protect regional products and technologies that is still in use in France and serves as an inspiration to similar solutions worldwide. Their efforts were deliberately centred on Châteauneuf-du-Pape because with such a beguiling name even in comparison to other labels it seemed to attract an undue share of fraudsters at the time.
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Soon after Aziraphale’s shopping spree, the local wine producers led by Le Roy and Tacussel began a very long campaign to establish legal protection for the wine from their commune. The delimited area and the method of wine production were finally awarded legal recognition after a decade, in 1933, but it wasn’t the end of the criminal activities on this front. An undercover investigation by The Sunday Times discovered that most of the “Châteauneuf” in the 1960s Britain was actually blended and bottled in Ipswich.
One question remains: was it a purely human affair, or maybe one requiring a demonic or angelic intervention?
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Bad Boy
A few meta-type thoughts about Bad Boy, now the dust has started to settle.  There could hardly have been more hype in the run up to the release of Shingeki FLY, but Bad Boy certainly delivered.  It’s classic Isayama; for such a short chapter it really packs an emotional punch, blending real pathos and tragedy with shockingly graphic violence and body horror.  It doesn't really add anything to the over all plot, which is to be expected, but it does provide insight into Levi’s character and answers one question that fans have been speculating about for years.
The story of why Levi holds his tea cup in such a peculiar way isn’t new. Isayama mentioned this in a magazine interview (I think?) way back in 2014
Q: …why he has such way of holding cup? Isayama: About that, I was thinking of drawing this one day. When he was a kid, Levi was living in slums and poverty. He was yearning for a life in clean & neat environment (not rich life). When he finally obtained the tea and tea set those he has been desperately wanted, he was rejoicing that finally he can drink it. But when he started to grip on the handle and lift up the cup, the handle came off and his cup was shattered. He was so traumatised by this experience and that’s why he changed his way of holding cups to not using the handle.
However we now know that the cup belonged to his mother and the extraordinary lengths Levi went to recover it. What is new is that we finally have confirmation of when Levi’s Ackerpowers were awakened.  Fans have been arguing about this for years; some thought it was when he killed the man with the knife immediately before Kenny left, others suggested it was when Farlan and Isabel were killed. Now we finally have an answer.  It’s not exactly clear how much time has lapsed between Kenny taking Levi in, his powers awakening, and Kenny leaving, however the fact that Kuchel’s tea set hadn’t yet made its way to the surface suggests that not much time had passed at all. 
Levi’s description of his powers awakening is fascinating;  
“Strangely enough I didn’t doubt what was happening to me at that moment. The pain had vanished, my head was calm, as if it had been immersed in water. Clear instructions on what to do came to my mind. I simply followed them one by one.”
This is the most information we’ve ever had about the famous Ackerpowers and goes some way to explaining Levi and Mikasa’s preternatural calm and focus when they're fighting.   They really only succumb to panic and despair when their loved ones are threatened.  Think of Mikasa in Shiganshina and at Fort Salta, and Levi when Farlan and Isabel die and when he allows Zeke to escape after Erwin rode out to his death. 
The panel illustrating Levi’s powers awakening is also interesting as it looks very like a Titan transformation. This suggests there is more than a grain of truth in what the Yeagers said about Ackermans being a by-product of Titan science, who were able to access the power of the Titans without becoming Titans themselves.   
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It’s not difficult to draw a direct line between the abuse and persecution Levi suffered as a child, with his determination to use his power to protect those in need.  Initially he used his strength to protect the vulnerable people of the Underground, such as Isabel, however once he met Erwin he was able to exert his power to serve an even higher goal - saving humanity. Isayama discussed this in the Answers Guidebook way back in 2006 and I think his comments are worth repeating here. 
Isayama With the heroes of American comics, conflicts dealing with the situation “with great power, comes great responsibility” have been depicted. In Levi’s case, if he had no power, he would probably have been an ordinary person with no responsibilities but, as a consequence of having power, that he became a person excessively burdened with responsibility. Kenny talked about “everyone… was a slave to something…”, when he put the question to Levi “what is yours!?”, Levi himself too perceived it. That he himself too was a slave in regard to his own strength. The sense of duty that “I must become a hero”. …the same thing can be said of Mikasa too but…, for the Ackerman family, in the service of their master, there are many people who are able to manifest their power to its maximum.
[Translation by @tsuki-no-ura]
I think it's also very in keeping with Levi's character that he remained devoted to saving humanity after the Rumbling; providing succour to the children in the refugee camp, and working to renew the environment destroyed by Eren's genocide, despite his injuries and regardless of whether he retained his Ackerpowers.
The title of the chapter, Bad Boy, is also interesting. No one actually calls Levi a “bad boy” in the chapter (though he is called worse) which suggests that this is how Levi sees himself.  It makes me wonder how much he internalised the thug’s insinuation that his mother would have been disappointed in him, and it also recalls Levi’s speech to Historia and the 104th, where he says he’s fine playing the role of the violent lunatic.  Poor baby.
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Another point the chapter clarifies is the origin of Levi’s belief that Kenny was his father.  To be honest, it’s hardly surprising that Levi assumed this considering Kenny clearly had some kind of relationship with his mother and took him in without question. Still, knowing that the seed of that belief was planted by a thug who was willing to torture and kill a child, or sell him into sexual slavery, really twists the knife. 
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[Translation by krtk.]
I am a little sad that we didn’t see more of Kenny in the chapter, but his presence certainly looms large.
I had expected to see more of Kuchel but at the same time I’m almost glad we didn’t.  Her life was brutal beyond measure and we’ve already seen her tragic death. Several fans have suggested that the reason we only see Kuchel in partial profile is because Levi’s memories of her are so hazy, all he really recalls is her grace 😢
It’s remarkable that Kuchel was able to retain such poise and grace despite living in such desperate squalor.  @momtaku has made the point that Kuchel appears to have been born into at least modest comfort, judging from Grandpa Ackermans’ home, which would explain where her elegance and also her fancy china came from.  It’s heartbreaking that both she and Levi clung on to this small memento of a better life. 
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Levi’s devotion to his mother, his desire to emulate her grace and cling on to her belongings is devastating, is very much in keeping with everything we know about his character.  Levi has boundless compassion, is deeply loyal, and never forgets those he loves, whether it’s Farlan and Isabel, Erwin, or his squad.  He’s also very sentimental; saving his mother’s tea set, and drinking tea evokes a direct connection to Kuchel and the only good thing he remembers from the squalor and cruelty of his childhood. This makes Erwin’s willingness to indulge his sentimentality and bend the rules to procure a steady supply of high quality tea for Levi all the more poignant. 
There's been some debate about Gabi's reaction to Levi's story in the final panel...
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Some people have interpreted her expression as holding back tears, while others have suggested she's trying not to laugh. I'm definitely in the stifled laughter camp. It just seems so very typical of Gabi and her relationship with Levi...
Gabi: - winds Levi up - Levi: - trauma dumps - Gabi: - stifled laughter / more wind up - Falco: - actually upset - "Would you guys stop??" Onyankopon: - shade -
It's also very typical of Isayama to poke fun at his characters like this, and it stops the story from tipping over into bathos.
There is one burning question that Bad Boy doesn’t answer and it’s this - what tf was kid Levi doing in Mr Smith’s classroom?? 
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Despite hoping against hope, I never really expected Isayama to answer this, because he does love to troll his readers.  Is it too much to hope that sometime down the line he’ll reappear with another chapter called School Boy?? 
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dailycass-cain · 3 days
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It's time at long last to delve into a certain secondary story in Detective Comics #1083 by Alex Paknadel and Robbi Rodriguez and my thoughts on it.
I SO did not expect to see a secondary Cass story as Ram V closes out his Tec run (but maybe I should've given he's let others give EVERYONE their due of his run).
And here ironically, a month before the character's 25th anniversary we get Cass.
I must confess reading the story drawn by Rodriguez along with Cass's appearance in #1082. It's got me reminiscing on Batgirls again.
It does make me truly miss that series. Even with the rewards that have been this run, Birds of Prey, and Spirit World.
However, unlike the prior two series, this one does a DEEP dive into the mindset of Cass and where she's at during this point of the run.
Some truly meaty stuff we get here character-wise.
The story continues where we left Cass in #1082, still roaming Gotham freely and making sure the city remembers the symbol of the bat.
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I do adore any time a criminal mistakes her for Batman. Just another notch to add that she'd make a great successor to Bruce as Batman.
Likewise, I do enjoy HOW she's introduced. Going to town on the criminal lot and us the reader seeing her viewpoint on subduing them.
Yet, unlike the prior story, not everything is hunky-dory with Cass. With a few words of choice in the narration boxes, you can tell something is off with Cass.
And it's fascinating she sees relief in reuniting with probably one of the beings who can "understand" her-- Lady Shiva.
Probably the only downside I have with the story is this recurring cycle of Cass instantly mistrusting her, when really the last two stories with Shiva, her mom has been trying.
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Still, they "talk" in the only way daughter/mother truly knows: fighting. Instantly, Shiva picks up what been clued to us the reader in the beginning: Cass is not well.
Though unlike the reader, Shiva lays out thickly what it is.
Since the Orgham have taken over Gotham they've been trying to wipe away the memory of the Bat via the. Yes, we know given a few issues ago Cass was immune to the Reality Engine wiping away the memory of the Bat.
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Here we find out another reason why: she's fighting as Bruce.
Of course, being that this is an Orgham-controlled Gotham and Shiva has her own subplot in the issue. Their exchange is cut short by the arrival of Azmer demons.
Something I've been hoping for Cass to encounter since they showed up.
I do muse how bluntly Shiva starts this team-up to again say she's not up to any insidious shenanigans. Again, it's Shiva being blunt which I guess she has to do given Cass just always seems to untrust her.
And we get the "juiciest" portion next. Still fighting as Bruce, Cass is getting her butt handed to her by the Azmer when we get this memory:
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Seven years it has been since we last saw you in a canon DC comic (fifteen years if we count this incarnation): welcome back David Cain you freaking bastard.
Again this goes back to what Cass said in her last story. She was built like Bruce, but differently, and here is how that came to be.
Which again is the core of Cassandra's character. She's always terrified of becoming what her father made her: this weapon of death. How she continues to go with this answer of NO and down this path of the bat.
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That goes deeply into WHY the bat symbol means so much for Cass. It's not just a layer of justice, but redemption. That is her coda: "You can change. You CAN change."
Ironically, it's due to the Reality Engine that probably WHY Cass has this relapse. She's good, but we know from the "Outlaws" arc even she was being affected by the Reality Engine at an EXTREMELY close range.
And it's fun that Shiva is again the one to help Cass through this time. Because other than Bruce and Oynx (man I miss that friendship), she's probably the only one who can help her daughter.
Where once more, we get the recurring theme of Cass/Shiva finding mutual ground between one another, but also Shiva letting her daughter be what she wants to be. Which given all their history does feel like a new layer going with them (hopefully).
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Again, this story ties so wonderfully with what Ram V has been doing with Cass. Showing again, how much the bat symbol means to her, and again reminding the reader that she's built like Bruce in sheer determination.
This was a REALLY good story that was built on prior with Cassandra. It gives Cass a sense of poetry at the end for her character. Her appearances here all tie together for this subplot of showing the any new reader WHO SHE IS, and why so damn enthralling as a character.
In a way, this really felt like a good unofficial celebration of the character. Though DC never fully said it, this does celebrate just means A LOT to so many.
The tale meant A LOT, giving us ANOTHER banger Cass story to boot.
Though I can't help but wonder? Even if there were rats in the story. My mind kept going here instead and Cass's "little friend" and nickname from Shadow of the Batgirl. I know it was probably unintentional.
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If this is truly all we get in celebrating the anniversary of the character this TRULY was a story worthy for it. For that, I thank the creative team behind this and Ram V too for giving us this. Like you, Kelly, Michael, and Alyssa are just giving us all these bangers.🙏
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tangerinesgf · 22 hours
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yooo, could you write for Thom Ryder (or whatever his name is ) someee maybe hurt/comfort stuff. Cause I love your writings!!!,💋🙏
Tom Ryder x GN!reader
Summary: Tom Ryder is an addict. But only the person closest to him knows that.
Tags/Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Some fluff, Paranoia, mentions of drugs and alcohol.
A/N: Yaaayy my first Tom Ryder fic!! Tysm for your request. I'm having so much fun writing for this man. I hope you like it. Also Tom Ryder is British right? Correct me if I'm wrong here pls, his accent was so confusing to me
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It was the night after Tom Ryder’s big movie premiere. Or well one of them. Another big blockbuster on his name, another couple million dollars in the bank and like every big occasion in Ryder’s life it called for a party. As his partner you have been to all the premiere's with him. From London to Paris and even Tokyo, all the way back to L.A. You were by his side through it all. The good and the bad. 
Tonight was all good. He just had a busy press tour behind him and was finally ready to unwind. He invited all of his friends and their friends to his house, or as he called it his ‘kingdom’. 
The first few hours you stuck to each other like glue, laughing dancing, ofcours a bit of flirting and kissing too. After a while you told him you were gonna go to the bathroom for a second and after some serious looks that told him that he couldn’t come with you.
When you came back Tom wasn’t in his usual spot anymore, but you didn’t really think anything of it. He was probably outside smoking weed or hanging around with his friends.
At some point during the evering you started to miss your boyfriend and started looking for him across the dancefloor, expecting to find him grinding with some random person he just met.
You’ve come to find his behaviour when high or drunk to be quite predictable. Whenever you found him dancing with another girl he’s quite genuinely confused, saying sorry over and over again, because he thought he was dancing with you. Though you couldn’t entirely blame him for it since he was high off his nuts and completely disoriented. Besides that, he was absolutely adorable while begging for your forgiveness.
Inside that asshole he protrayed himself to be was just an insecure little boy who didn’t get enough validation from his parents. 
So here you were searching his entire loft, shoving people aside left and right to find Ryder, which wasn’t nearly as easy as it appeared to be. His loft was huge with multiple bedrooms, bathrooms and just random rooms filled with whatever crazy thing Tom wanted to try this time.
As his girlfriend you were often at his place, which means you were there last week when he turned one of his rooms into a small makeshift jungle for his new Koala. You gave it 2 weeks max before animal protection would show up at his front door. 
His loft felt like an absolute madhouse everytime he held a party there, the music was deafening and the smell of weed and alcohol hung in the air. You were pretty sure Tom didn’t even know half of the people in his house right now. 
To your surprise he wasn’t shagging up with some random girl, in fact he was nowhere to be found at the party. Usually you’d stick by him during parties like this, especially when there were drugs involved. So when you couldn’t find him with his usual group of friends and he hadn’t come to find you, you knew something was wrong. 
You abandoned the party downstairs and went to find the actor upstairs where the guests weren’t allowed. The bedroom was empty, as was his second bedroom and the room he uses to practice his scenes (that particular room had a huge mirror).
“Tom? Love?” You call out in the hallway as you walk past all his movie posters. Then suddenly you stop in your tracks as you hear a voice coming from the bathroom, it sounds like Tom talking to someone, but there’s no other voice talking back. Like he’s all alone in there. 
Silently you walk over to the bathroom, the last thing you wanted to do was scare him right now. The door was open just a bit as you leaned beside it, looking through the little slit in the door. Tom was pacing the room back and forth like madman. You couldn’t exactly hear what he was saying because most of it came out hastily in a mumble. 
You decided to approach him carefully since you had no real perception of the state he was in right now. Ever so softly you knock on the bathroom door to announce your presence. At the sound Ryder’s head immediately snaps up in your direction, he looks like a deer caught in headlights with those wide eyes.
In a split second he grabs his hairbrush from the shelf above the sink and holds it in front of him like you would a knife. Ofcours you knew he wouldn’t get very far with that, but right now you just wanted to make him feel comfortable so you hold your hands up in the air to show him you mean no harm.
“Tom..” You say softly as you take a step closer to him. The beads of sweat on his forehead become apparent to you as do his frantic eyes which are constantly scanning every part of the room for threats. 
His movements are erratic as he holds the brush out in front of him and you wonder if he even reconizes you as his partner at this moment. “Stay back- I know why you’re here… I know it. Where are your friends, hm?” He raises his eyebrow at you, skeptical of your intentions. 
“What on earth are you talking about?” A frown appears on your face as he starts ranting nonsense. You were well aware of Ryder’s drug problem, but you really hated seeing him like this. The poor guy was really in a miserable state.
It had all started quite innocent, just one joint to take the edge off before a press tour or a premiere, you even did it with him sometimes. Then at parties he started to dance on the edge of safe and dangerous. Taking more and more different kinds of drugs with the excuse of ‘just experimenting’. 
In the last couple of weeks you’ve found him throwing up in the bathroom, pale as a ghost more than once. You’ve tried to offer advice but he never wants to hear it. He’s Tom Ryder. He can do whatever he wants. 
“Don’t pretend you don’t know. You came all the way up here to get me alone, right? So there’d be no witnesses when you kill me.” The brush is shaking in his hands and his words are quick, full of distrust towards you.
You can tell it’s bad this time. You’ve never seen him so paranoide before and it’s seriously concerning. Lately one or two hits just aren’t enough for him anymore, it’s like he’s trying to numb himself. From what you wouldn’t know, he’s not exactly open about his flaws and weaknesses. That’s vulnerability and that’s bad. 
“No I’m not-” You step closer, but he cuts you off by throwing the brush in your direction which you just barely manage to dodge. You look at him with wide eyes and before he can grab the bar of soap from the sink to throw that as well you rush over to him to grab his wrists.
“Tom, listen to me- fuck..” You mutter as he struggles against you, trying to push you off him. 
“What do you want from me?!” Ryder shouts desperately. Even after doing all those movies and action scenes he has really no idea how to fight, so most of his attempts to fight you off go nowhere. 
“It’s me, Tom. No one is trying to kill you!” You yell as you finally manage to remove the bar of soap from his hands. You quickly reach your hands up to cup his face. With closed eyes you take some deep breaths to slow down your heart rate. You weren’t exactly sober either, so you took a moment to steady yourself before looking back at him.
It wasn’t that you didn’t understand where the paranoia came from, ofcours you did. Tom Ryder is the most famous actor in the world, everyone who didn’t want to be with him, wanted to be him. Let’s just say that both of you have experienced first hand how far some people are willing to go for celebrities. 
Yet when sober Tom didn’t seem necessarily concerned about it, more annoyed or angry when another fan tried to touch or attack him. And don’t get it wrong, Tom loves the attention and validation, but he doesn’t exactly want those crazies near him.
“Hey, hey look at me, yeah? Look at me.” Your voice is demanding and his eyes immediately snap back towards yours. His sunglasses do a poor job of hiding his wide blown, red eyes. 
“You’re okay.” You gently stroke his cheek with your thumb to try and calm him down like you’ve done countless times before. “You’re okay..” You repeat in a softer tone, a small smile spread across your lips.  
“Baby?” He whispers quietly. His eyes have softened and you can feel the man you love coming back to you. 
“Mhm..” You hum softly. “No one’s going to kill you, I promise.” 
You notice Tom’s eyes starting to water a little as he realizes everything is okay and that you’re with him to keep him safe. He holds his head down in shame.  “I’m sorry..” His voice barely comes out as a whisper as he leans forwards and buries his face in your chest. 
You wrap one arm around him, the other gently stroking his messy blonde hair to comfort him. He’s always had a weak spot for you when you played with his hair. 
“And I’m sorry I tried to hit you with my hairbrush.” He mumbles again.
“I know, love..” You whisper back as you hold him close. Then without warning Tom starts sobbing into your chest, it sounds broken and helpless. Every single thought inside his head just spilt over, unable to keep it in anymore, yet also unable to actually talk about it. 
You pull him into a tight hug, leaning his head on your shoulder as you rub his back. You’ve never seen him this vulnerable before and while it felt a little bit weird, it also felt good that he trusted you enough to let himself be vulnerable with you.
For now you'd just hold him, let him air his heart as long as he needs to. You can both work on your issues later. In this moment being in the comfort of each other's arms is enough.
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A/N: I'm a firm believer that Tom Ryder swings both ways, but cannot hold a normal stable relationship to save his life. Anyways I hope you enjoyed this and please if you have any Tom Ryder requests send them in.
I don't have a Taglist for Tom Ryder fanfics yet, so if you wanna be on it lemme know.
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I got a Rwby ask for ya for Yang Xiao long, Weiss schnee and Nora Valkyrie with a Male S/O that's Shy like Kobeni from chainsaw man and seems to downplay himself when in actuality he's incredibly strong. I just wanna see His girly just smother him in affection and won't allow him to talk down on himself
I had a fun time writing this, though I'm not sure If I did all to well on it as I'm not really sure if I have a firm grasp of everyone's characters, not to mention I was half asleep when writing most of this.
Now! Your wish is my command!
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Yang had to admit, she wasn’t really sure about you when the two of you first met.
You floundered every time someone talked to you, jumped at every little noise, and yet you came “Highly recommended” as a temporary replacement for Ruby while she was out with a cold.
She didn’t understand why, at least until the first time she saw you fight a pack of Grimm.
It was… efficient.
That way the only word Yang could think to describe the fight, if it could even be called that.
You cut ligaments and veins, snapped and crushed bone, tore limbs away from the body and as soon as one began to drop the next was being disassembled.
It was an exciting display.
But still, you could’ve left a few of them for her to show off on.
Oh well, it’ll have to wait until next time.
The next group of Grimm was almost instantly cut to ribbons.
The following one was ripped to shreds.
It was around here that you apologized for being so “Slow”.
At this, Yang felt like she should grab you by the collar and shake you like a stuffed toy.
Slow?
SLOW!?
This was you going SLOW!?
What the hell was fast then!?
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Needless to say, Yang took a bit of an interest in you after that.
And seeing as you weren’t really a part of your own team, Yang asked to have you as a +1 of sorts to team RWBY.
Things snowballed after that.
Somewhere down the line Yang’s interest in you turned to infatuation and then love.
That being said, your lack of faith in yourself made her want to throttle you sometimes.
You could shred through almost any Grimm with ease.
Yet, you called yourself a “Below third rate hunter”.
She didn’t know if she wanted to hug you or strangle you every time you said that.
Then again, she could probably do both if she put her mind to it…
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Weiss had heard that you had immense talent, an almost unrivaled ability to disassemble Grimm into many small pieces in record time.
You had a reputation that precedes you, even Winter sang your praises as a prodigy.
Needless to say Weiss was excited when she was told that you would temporarily be joining team RWBY to cover for Ruby who ate herself into a food coma with cookies.
On one hand, she wanted to strangle the young woman.
On the other hand, she felt like giving her a hug and thanking her.
It was only when they were on the way that Weiss realized that she had no idea what to expect of you as a person.
Shortly following this realization, they arrived and were greeted by the single most frazzled and shaken creature that Weiss had ever laid eyes on.
Weiss was understandably concerned by this and asked where you were as you were supposed to be the one greeting them.
Imagine her surprise when she learned that this person who looked like they were going to shake apart at any second was the very person Winter had been singing the praises of, not to mention the same person she had been told held the current record for defeating a Grimm.
She was sure that this was some joke.
But before Weiss could properly express her indignation, everyone got to work.
Well, by everyone, Weiss means you got to work.
When the first Grimm made its appearance it was already falling to the ground in a heap of severed body parts by the time Weiss had drawn her sword.
She swore she would get the next one.
She did not get the next one, or the one after that, or the one following that one.
It infuriated her to no end.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
After this, Weiss made it her own personal mission to get to a Grimm before you did.
She got some… mixed results.
More specifically, she got to hit one, single Grimm before you obliterated it.
That was still better than she had managed to get throughout the entire day and as such, made her the person to get the second most done.
She was really wondering why in the world they hadn’t just sent you to do this on your own.
Then, when the whole expedition came to an end, you apologized for “Holding them back.”
That’s when it all clicked for Weiss.
The frazzled way you acted.
The fact you had barely said a word to anyone.
The apology.
You lacked faith in yourself.
Despite all of the talent you had, despite the fact you could dismantle a Grimm faster than the human eye could see.
You saw yourself as less than third rate.
Weiss felt a sudden kinship with you at this realization.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
After this, Weiss did her best to find a way to spend time with you, to try and get to know you.
It was an extremely difficult process, but slowly, eventually, she came to understand you.
And you came to understand her.
After that, things sort of happened between the two of you.
She, of course, was teased mercilessly by Ruby, Yang, and Blake when they found out.
They were lucky she was nice, otherwise she would have frozen them solid.
That and she was more concerned about you at the moment.
You managed to infuriate her to no end with the lack of faith you had in yourself.
She had done her best to try and get you to believe in yourself more but it was very, very slow going.
But that just meant she had to believe in you enough for the both of you.
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When Nora met you for the first time, her first thought was “Wet cat”.
To be fair, at the time it was a very apt comparison as it was pouring rain and you had just returned from dealing with quite a few Grimm.
That being said, the two of you didn’t officially meet until the next afternoon.
Upon meeting you, she blurted out without any shame.
“You’re the wet cat person!”
Your only response to that was a meek “Fair.”
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After this, you and Nora became fast friends.
Well, it's more like Nora just started showing up to chat with you and you didn’t really want to argue with her about it.
Something told you she was a very stubborn person.
Nora also, on occasion, brought her other friends.
It was during one of these occasions, that she learned that you were someone rather famous.
You were the person who could take down a Grimm in under a tenth of a second.
Nora had to admit, she couldn’t really see it.
To her you were a lot like a ball of yarn that was quickly unraveling.
Then again, she has been wrong before.
However, what you said in response to this caught her attention, knocking her out of her musing.
“I’m just a third rate hunter, no one special at all. I’m sure someone could do what I did a lot faster if they wanted to.”
This told Nora two things.
The first being that you actually were the current record holder for the fastest Hunter in training.
The second was that you downplayed yourself more than was healthy.
And seeing as you were a friend of hers, she didn’t particularly like that second part.
So, Nora cleared her schedule.
She was going to make you have more faith in yourself.
By any means necessary.
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It took a week before she was ready to either beat you over the head with her hammer or crush you in a hug and smother you in kisses.
How could someone so nice and awesome have so little faith in themself?
What in the world happened to make you like this?
She was going to hurt it.
That or put a rubber band on you and snapping it every time you said something self deprecating.
That or do both.
Both sounded good to Nora right now.
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goosewithtwoos · 15 hours
Text
SLUMBER PARTY
Pairing: Bob x Reader
Summary: Phoenix left some aphrodisiac brownies at your house - you accidentally eat one
DISCLAIMER: yeah i got no fwicking clue how aphrodisiacs work so this is more of a crack post than anything don’t take it too seriously
“You brought brownies!” You squeal, running up to hug your best friend.
Phoenix was carrying a small box of brownies that were perfectly decorated with powdered sugar. Your mouth was watering just looking at them.
“Hands off!” She cries, holding them over her head. “It’s a gift for someone. I’m going to a bachelorette party later.”
You pout. “Not even one?”
“Not even one.”
The two of you head inside, catching up on things and discussing plans for your next official leave. You were trying to schedule a trip with everyone down to Sanibel island off the coast of Florida but Hangman was being difficult and said the time he’d spent in Pensacola had been enough to last a lifetime.
You helped Phoenix get ready for the party, doing her makeup for her. Having grown up with four older brothers, Phoenix had never had time to play with makeup. You didn’t mind - in fact, you loved doing makeup for other people.
After about 45 minutes, a phone rang. Phoenix picks hers up only to find that it was your phone that was ringing.
You grab it off the vanity and check the caller ID.
Bob.
You show your phone to Phoenix who grins wildly. She’s known about your crush on her WSO ever since she had introduced you.
“Hello?” You ask tentatively. It was rare that he’d call you. Typically, he’d call someone else and ask them to ask you something.
“Hey, uh, sorry this is weird for me to call. I was just wondering -“
Your heart was beating out of your chest. You looked at Phoenix, silently pleading with her for help.
‘Put him on speaker’ She mouths. You quickly do so, holding your breath lest he notices the change.
“I have your credit card. You left it at the Hard Deck last night and Penny gave it to me. I was wondering when would be a good time to drop it off?”
‘Right now!’ Phoenix mouths.
‘Right now?’ You mouth back, looking at the state of your room and yourself in the mirror. She nods frantically, turning around and quickly reorganizing your things back into the drawers.
“Umm…well I’m home right now if you wanted to bring it over.” You hoped you came across at least slightly suave instead of a panicking mess.
“Oh!” Bob sounded caught off guard. “Yeah, I can do that. Do you want me to leave it in your mailbox?”
Phoenix whips her head around. ‘No!’
“No? I mean, no! I’ve uh…been having a lot of mail theft recently. You can never been too careful.”
Bob hummed. “Mail theft is a huge deal. You should report it. I remember my sister had a problem with that for a while too.”
Bless. his. heart.
“Yeah…” Your voice died off, trying to figure out if this actually was real life or simply some dream. Bob was coming over. Your heart fluttered at the idea. “So! Um, when should I expect you?”
“Maybe like 30 minutes? I just left the PX and rush hour is kinda crazy at this time of day.”
Phoenix was grinning wickedly. She gave you two thumbs up and the look in her eyes told you that maybe this wasn’t a terrible idea.
You made a noise of agreeance in the back of your throat. “Sounds perfect.”
The next 30 minutes of your life we’re some of the most stress inducing you’d ever faced. You wanted everything to be perfect. Phoenix had high tailed it out of there, nearly forgetting her purse, and you sped cleaned the whole house like the president was coming to visit.
Sure, he was probably just going to come to the door, drop off your card, and leave but the small glimmer of hope you held made you clean. Maybe this time you’d actually have the balls to ask him to come inside.
A soft knock at your door announced his arrival. You scrambled from the couch, brushing down your shirt and fixing your hair before answering the door.
“Hey!” He choked out, taking in your figure. Your flight suit was pretty conservative along with you cammies. It was a rare occasion for him to see you in your civilian clothes. “This is for you.”
You took the card from him, careful to not accidentally brush his hand with yours.
“Thank you so much, I don’t know how I could have forgotten this.” You quickly shove the card into your back pocket for safe keeping.
He quickly shoved his hands in his front pocket and shrugged. “Happens to the best of us.”
You nodded, unsure of what to say and didn’t trust yourself to not randomly blurt out an ‘I love you’, so you settled for an awkward silence.
After you both had stared at each other for far too long, he gave you a quick nod and started to pivot away. “Well, guess I’ll see you back at in on Monday.”
Damn it, this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. You were supposed to invite him in and talk and maybe watch a movie and hold hands a little. Not have him walk away after less than a minute on your doorstep.
“Do you wanna come in?” You blurt out, surprising not only him but also yourself. “I have to give you something as an appreciation. I probably have a beer or something.” Fucking dumbass.
He turned back towards you, removing his hands from his pockets.
“I won’t take a beer but I will take a water.”
You stepped out of the doorframe allowing room for him to enter. “I do in fact also have water.”
He entered and then followed as you walked to the kitchen. It was small but good enough to make borderline decent meals. You weren’t much of a chef anyways and ate at the chow hall more than you’d care to admit.
“Do you want ice and a glass or just a bottle?” You ask, turning to the cupboard.
“Just a glass, no ice.” He said, taking in your decor.
This wasn’t a permanent lodging, just for the time you’re stationed here, but you still liked to decorate a little bit. Felt more like something you could call home.
You poured a glass and handed it to him, brushing his fingers as you did.
Your heart picked up from the slight touch and you cursed yourself for being such a child. You were a Naval aviator, you should be able to touch someone without having your mind go completely blank. Yet alas. Your mind was gone the moment his fingers touched yours.
He took a sip, then motioned with his chin to a tupperware sitting on the counter. “You just make those?”
You tilted your head, confused on how the hell a tupperware ended up on your counter. You went to inspect it only to find they were the brownies Phoenix had brought over for the bachelorette party. She must have forgotten them in her hurry to leave.
“Uh, these actually aren’t even mine.” You admit, wondering if it would be worth calling her back for them or not. She’d probably already be there by now. Guess if she really wanted them she would have called and asked. “Phoenix made them. She stopped by earlier and I guess she left them.”
His shoulders slumped a little bit at the news.
“But it doesn’t seem like she’s gonna come back for them any time soon and it would be a real shame to waste them.” You quickly follow up. The look on his face was worth it. You didn’t really want a brownie but you knew he wouldn’t eat one if you didn’t.
You pulled two paper towels and grabbed a brownie for the both of you, handing one to him and smelling yours. God, it smelled so good. Were these really made by Phoenix? They smelled like they were made by chocolatiers from some fancy Paris bakery.
“To Bob, for returning my card.” You said as a mock toast. He raised his brownie in turn before you took a bite in tandem.
Holy shit - they tasted even better than they smelled.
You quickly finished yours before grabbing a glass of water for yourself.
Bob stayed for a while, chatting in your kitchen about everything and anything. The conversation was completely normal so it was surprising when you felt the intense need to get off.
Your heart rate picked up rapidly and you could feel yourself getting wetter by the second. Your replies slowly turned from interesting, full and comprehensive sentences, to a mix of ‘mhm’ and ‘oh yeah’. God, why couldn’t you get control of yourself?
“Do you wanna go sit down?” You gasp out, fingers gripping the cup for dear life.
“Yeah, good idea.” Bob was looking much more pale than usual but you chocked that up to your terrible lighting and white countertops.
The two of you sat in the living area, a far enough distance from each other on the couch to make it awkward. You pulled your knees to your chest, hoping that the squeezing of your thighs would be able to help alleviate some of the feeling.
What was happening? You typically had self control but this was excessive. God, you needed a cold shower.
“So - uh - how’s your sister?” You also, trying to think of the least sexy topic.
“Good.” His reply was short and quick. His chest was heaving slightly, looking like he had just run a mile. Was he feeling the same thing you were? His composure seemed to be dissolving just like yours. “Sorry, I’m just a little bit warm. Do you mind if I take this off?” He gestured to his sweater, lightly tugging at the bottom.
You screamed internally. “Of course.” Fuck, once he mentioned heat, your whole body exploded and you needed to take a polar plunge.
Even once his sweater was off, he kept readjusting.
“I’ll turn a fan on.” The moment you stood, you knew something was really wrong. Your legs were like jello. Your heart was racing as your body ached with desperation.
The fan did little to help you cool off and the feeling was simply just getting worse. You had been talking about something, taxes maybe? Something that should have been a complete turn off but Bob was looking at you like he wanted to ravish you.
Your voice trailed off when you realized he wasn’t even paying attention to what you were saying and you couldn’t even remember where your sentence had died off.
“I’m so sorry, I promise I’m trying to listen, I don’t…” He was audibly panting, adjusting his collar. “Fuck, can I kiss you?”
The heat between your thighs was like nothing you’d ever felt before. “Mhm.” You manage to nod, trying desperately to not go insane. You needed his hands on you, like, yesterday.
In an instant, he pulled you into a lip bruising kiss, bucking his hips the moment you straddled him. He was so hard already, you were surprised by how needy he was before anything had even happened.
You kissed like the world was going to end. Like you needed each other like some sort of drug.
His hands found your waist, massaging your sides. You couldn’t help but grind your hips down on his, relishing the sounds he made. When his fingers slipped under your shirt, cold hands touching your warm skin, you gasped into his mouth.
“I need you so bad.” He whined.
“Say it again.” The pounding in your chest increased rapidly at his admission.
“I - I need you. Oh my God.” He cried as you bit down on the soft spot beneath his ear. “You can’t keep doing that.”
You smirk, dragging your tongue along the sensitive spot. “This?”
His whole body shook as he pulled you down tighter against him. “Y-yeah, that.” You couldn’t tell if the movement of your hips was your doing or his strong hands, pushing and pulling you back and forth.
“Can I take your shirt off?” He begs.
“God, yes, please.” You reply. His hands quickly pulled your t-shirt up and over, throwing it somewhere across the room.
Seeing your chest turned him feral. In an instant, his eyes darkened and all inhibition was gone.
“Jesus Christ.” He mutters, cupping your chest through your bra and squeezing. “I could die in between these.”
“Fuck me first.” You pant. You felt like your whole body was on fire. You needed friction, for him to touch you, anything.
He leaned forward and licked from the center of your chest slowly up your neck. You’d never had anyone else do anything like that but it was hot all the same. A strong hand lightly gripped your throat, pressing down enough to feel something but not enough to cut off any blood flow.
“God, you’re gorgeous. Could keep you on my lap forever.” He growls.
Something about the possessiveness made your mind short circuit.
“Robert.” You moan, pressing yourself down again. Every nerve was on fire. You were on fire. You were going to burn and you were going to burn with him.
“I got you, honey.” His southern drawl slowly making its way into his speech. You’d always been interested in saving a horse and riding a cowboy, and now seemed like a good time to try it.
You smashed your mouths back together and began pawing at the bottom of his shirt. You wanted it off but you didn’t want to peel yourself away from him.
He made quick work of the buttons on your shorts, pulling down the zipper and pressing two fingers against you. It felt so good - too good - and you needed him now.
"Please, please, please." You were begging a man, and you couldn't care less.
“I got you baby, you don’t need to beg. I’ll give it to you. Fuck, gonna give it to you so good.” His fingers were inside you, working you open, thumb pressing against your clit.
You threw your head back, groaning in agony and pleasure as he presses against your g-spot.
“Gorgeous, so fucking gorgeous,” he mumbles more to himself than anyone else. You were riding his fingers like a pro, swiveling your hips and grinding down like you’d done it a hundred times before.
“I need…I need you in me.” You moan out.
“I am in you.” He teases, biting down on your shoulder.
This cocky little son of a - “Robert Jameson Floyd.” You whine again. You’d never been reduced to whining and begging before but suddenly, it was the only thing you could do.
He groans when you call him by his full name. His fingers pull out, tapping your folds a few times before being pulled from your shorts completely. He lifts them and - damn him - sticks them into his mouth, acting as if it was the most delicious thing he’d had all week. “You need to take these off.”
Brilliant idea.
You stand, quickly removing your shorts and panties in a fluid move. He unbuckles his jeans and pushes them down. His boxers came off almost immediately afterwards and your eyes went wide.
You’d known he was pretty. Hell, he was probably the prettiest man you’d ever seen, but you didn’t realize that every inch of him was going to be pretty. And big.
You swallow, eyes flicking up to meet his. He was panting, looking at you and you realized you didn’t feel self conscious at all. You felt good, safe, and sexy. You’d probably ask to marry him if he could fuck you as good as he was saying he could.
“How’d you want this?” He asks.
“You’re from Texas, right?” You ask and he nods. “I’ve always been interested in saving horses.”
He throws his head back, laughing. “If it weren’t you standing naked in front of me right now, I’d be getting up and leaving. That was the worst thing I’ve ever heard. Get over here.”
You suppress a laugh, sitting back down on his lap, feeling him hard as a rock underneath you. "Your shirts coming off." You say, pulling at it.
He removes his glasses, shaking his head lightly, tousling his hair even more than your hands had. With or without his glasses, he made it hard to breathe. When he removes his shirt, you were sure he'd knocked the wind out of you entirely.
Your mind couldn't think of anything to say so you opted for leaning down and capturing him into another kiss. His large hands wrap around your side, kneading the flesh beneath. You had began rocking your hips back and forth without even realizing it until his hand stopped you.
"I want to get inside you before I come from just this." He admits, resting his forehead against yours.
You nod, still unable to form coherent thoughts. "Yeah, yeah that's a good idea."
You lift your hips as he lines himself up. Much to your pleasure, he didn't force you down and allowed for you to go at your own pace. It had been a while and you were tight. He hisses through his teeth as you sink down.
"Fit inside me so good." You tell him. He throws his head back, letting out a low moan. You were glad he wasn't the type of man who tried to silence himself. He sounded so beautiful. "Could stay here forever."
"Fuck me first." He says, bucking his hips ever so slightly, echoing your words from earlier.
Who were you to decline such a polite request?
You lift yourself up, enjoying how his eyes immediately snap down to watch where you're connected. The grip on your hips tightens as you go back down.
It felt like your senses were heightened. Every inch of him was sending flames through you. Your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest and Bob looked no better.
He was watching intensely as you moved, mouth ajar. You press your hands against his chest and lean forward ever so slightly. The change of angles makes you see stars.
"Oh my God." You cry out. He felt impossibly deep and so, so good.
"Feels better than I ever thought possible." He groans. "Just like you were made for me."
"Thought about this before?" You tease, spelling your name with your hips. What size ring was he?
Bob's hand leaves your waist and trails down to your clit. "Often." With a light pinch, you're doubling over, crying out with a mix of broken moans and his name.
"You're gonna make me come fast if you keep doing that." You warn him. As much as you wanted to come, the thought of this being over made you want to hold off as long as possible.
He pinches again. "I'm no better, darlin. Come whenever, I'll be right behind you." The feeling of him inside you was making you crazy. You were losing your mind and felt entirely content with it. "Fuck, keep doing that."
Your orgasm was rapidly approaching. You'd never come this quickly before and it would be embarrassing if Bob weren't so stunningly handsome and crying out just as much as you were. Sweat was beading on his forehead, causing his baby hairs to stick down.
You run your hand across his head, moving both the hairs and his head back. He looks at you, all fucked out, and the sight alone is perfect shower head masturbation material for the next few months.
"You're so beautiful." He says, his eyes glazed over, like he couldn't believe that you were real. "Can't believe this is real."
You moan in agreeance. This was beyond your wildest dreams. You would have never imagined this as a possible scenario for how the day would go. Part of you began to worry this was all a dream and you'd wake up to find your credit card was in your wallet the whole time.
He shifted and your world exploded. He was deeper than you ever thought possible. God, it felt so good. So, so good. Too good.
"Robert, I'm gonna come." You cry out, gripping his shoulders like a vice. His lips wrap around your chest, sucking and biting down, the harsh breath feeling like Heaven and Hell all at the same time, before he roughly pulls back.
"You gotta get up before I come inside you." He warns, the grip on your hips loosening.
You force your hips back down, tightening your thighs around him. "I'm on the pill, I wanna feel you. Give it to me, please?" You asked it so innocently but your words were filthy.
"Yeah?" He breathes out. "Want me to come inside you? Fill you up?" You clench around him. "You like that, huh? Like the idea of me marking you as mine. Tell me you want it."
"I want it, I want it." You chant. "Please give it to me. Need to feel you inside me."
He takes your other breast into his mouth, bouncing you with more urgency. "Gonna fill you up so good." You hear him mumble around you.
He pinches your clit and you're a goner. Your orgasm rips through you and you're coming harder than you've come before around him. You can tell you're saying something but your mind is so blank, you're not quite sure what it is.
"Holy fuck." He moans, hips stilling as you feel him come inside you.
You're both panting, resting foreheads against each other. You can feel him spilling out but make no effort to move. This was something you'd want to savor for as long as you lived. A size 10 ring would probably fit him nicely.
He presses a kiss to your cheek. His hands pull your hair from your face back into a makeshift pony tail from where it had been sticking to your neck with sweat before letting it fall. "You're amazing."
You laugh lightly, never having been told that after getting absolutely railed before. "I think that belongs to you. I've never had someone make me come that quickly before."
"Same." He agrees. He finds his glasses, putting them on and blinking rapidly to readjust his vision. "A goddess, for sure."
You laugh and swat at his chest. "A cowboy, for sure." He groans, rolling his head back.
“Oh, who the fuck is calling me right now?” You breathed out as your phone began ringing, pulling you from your lovely little bubble. Your heart dropped when you saw who it was. It was Phoenix. You didn't get off him, simply grabbing your phone from the table and answering “Hello?”
“Hey girl, I’m so sorry I just realized I left the brownies at your place! Don’t eat them okay? They’re for a prank.” Her voice was rushed as she got out every word.
“What do you mean ‘they’re for a prank’?”
“They’re aphrodisiac.”
Ah.
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loving-n0t-heyting · 2 hours
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BUT WHAT ABOUT THAT FEELING? What about that intense, life-changing collective euphoria? This was an issue on which my interlocutors were split. What about those magical, radiant days, the moments when you felt that your very soul became fused with the forces of history, that you were bigger and more powerful. That all your differences melted away, and that you and your fellow revolutionaries were literally remaking the world, with each and every thing that you did. This supernatural experience was something that took place all around the world, and everyone agreed it was important. Some people said they would relive those days for the rest of their lives. The disagreement was about what came next.
For some of them, the horrible comedown, the plunge into depression that came after things did not work out, was something like a hangover. You can get yourself all fucked up on revolutionary élan, just like you can drink alcohol or take drugs. But it warps your senses and causes you to make poor decisions. It isn’t real, and you’re going to pay for it later. If you want the feeling of mass ecstasy you should go to a music festival instead of encouraging vulnerable young people to go out and get killed. Indeed, it seems you can probably draw a line from the ethos of the New Left and the arrival of Woodstock, and then, ultimately, to Coachella.
Then there was another interpretation, just as common. It is the most real thing that one can ever feel. It is not an illusion at all; it is a stunning, momentary glimpse of the way that life is really supposed to be. It is how we can feel every single day in a world when artificial distinctions and narrowly self-interested activities melt away. When our society truly is participatory, when we are truly forging history in every movement and acting in love and harmony with our fellow human beings, we will be able to feel this way all the time. Over four years of interviews, across ten countries, people went back and forth.
As I said, they couldn’t decide which one it is.
if we burn, vincent bevins
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starless-nightz · 2 days
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XI. getting followed and a weird homeless guy
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| MASTERLIST | WATTPAD |
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Carmillas POV:
We were crossing the Potomac when we spotted the helicopter. It was a sleek, black military model just like the one we'd seen at Westover Hall. And it was coming straight toward us.
"They know the van," Percy said. "We have to ditch it." Mom swerved into the fast lane. The helicopter was gaining.
"Maybe the military will shoot it down," Grover said hopefully.
"The military probably thinks it's one of theirs," Percy guessed. "How can the General use mortals, anyway?"
"Mercenaries," mom said bitterly. "It is distasteful, but many mortals will fight for any cause as long as they are paid."
"But don't these mortals see who they're working for?" Percy asked. "Don't they notice all the monsters around them?"
Mom shook her head. "I do not know how much they see through the Mist. I doubt it would matter to them if they knew the truth. Sometimes mortals can be more horrible than monsters."
The helicopter kept coming, making a lot better time than we were through D.C. traffic. Thalia closed her eyes and prayed hard. "Hey, Dad. A lightning bolt would be nice about now. Please?"
But the sky stayed gray and snowy. No sign of a helpful thunderstorm.
"There!" Bianca said. "That parking lot!"
"We'll be trapped," mom said.
"Trust her," i told her, Bianca smiled at me, glad that I trust her judgment.
Mom shot across two lanes of traffic and into a mall parking lot on the south bank of the river. We left the van and followed Bianca down some steps.
"Subway entrance," Bianca said. "Let's go south. Alexandria."
"Anything," Thalia agreed.
We bought tickets and got through the turnstiles, looking behind us for any signs of pursuit. A few minutes later we were safely aboard a southbound train, riding away from D.C.
As our train came above ground, we could see the helicopter circling the parking lot, but it didn't come after us.
Grover let out a sigh. "Nice job, Bianca, thinking of the subway." I nodded as I sat besides Bianca, leaning on her.
Bianca looked pleased. "Yeah, well. I saw that station when Nico and I came through last summer. I remember being really surprised to see it, because it wasn't here when we used to live in D.C."
Both Grover and i frowned. "New? But that station looked really old."
"I guess," Bianca said. "But trust me, when we lived here as little kids, there was no subway."
I sat up to face her. "Wait a minute. No subway at all?" Bianca nodded.
"Bianca," mom said. "How long ago…" Her voice faltered. The sound of the helicopter was getting louder again.
"We need to change trains," Percy said. "Next station."
Over the next half hour, all we thought about was getting away safely. We changed trains twice. I had no idea where we were going, but after a while we lost the helicopter.
Unfortunately, when we finally got off the train we found ourselves at the end of the line, in an industrial area with nothing but warehouses and railway tracks. And snow. Lots of snow. It seemed much colder here.
We wandered through the railway yard, thinking there might be another passenger train somewhere, but there were just rows and rows of freight cars, most of which were covered in snow, like they hadn't moved in years.
A homeless guy was standing at a trash-can fire. We must've looked pretty pathetic, because he gave us a toothless grin and said, "Y'all need to get warmed up? Come on over!'
We huddled around his fire, Thalia's teeth were chattering. She said, "Well this is great."
"My hooves are frozen," Grover complained.
"Feet," Percy and I corrected him at the same time, for the sake of the homeless guy.
"Maybe we should contact camp," Bianca said. "Chiron—"
"No," mom said. "They cannot help us anymore. We must finish this quest ourselves."
I glanced at Bianca who was sitting next to me, we werent as cold as the rest cause of our jackets, but I didnt want her to get a cold.
I took an old scarf uncle Hermes gave me years ago, it was grey with a few white dots at the end. I handed it to her, which she gladly took.
"How come she gets a scarf?" Thalia scoffed but I didnt lay too much attention to her.
"You know," the homeless man said, "you're never completely without friends." we didnt say anything so he continued "You kids need a train going west?"
"Yes, sir," Percy said. "You know of any?"
He pointed one greasy hand. I noticed a freight train, gleaming and free of snow. It was one of those automobile-carrier trains, with steel mesh curtains and a triple-deck of cars inside. The side of the freight train said SUN WEST LINE.
"That's… convenient," Thalia said. "Thanks, uh…"
She turned to the homeless guy, but he was gone. The trash can in front of us was cold and empty, as if he'd taken the flames with him.
An hour later we were rumbling west. There was no problem about who would drive now, because we all got our own luxury car. Mom, Bianca and i were crashing out in a Lexus on the top deck.
"Are you okay? You two should get some rest." mom asked me, she was obviously worried about us, after all this was our first mission.
"I'm fine, mama, dont worry too much." I grumbled as I moved to the back seat with Bianca.
"Sleep as much as you can." Mom said as she took out her journal, which she usually writes in when shes nervous.
I didnt lay too much attention to it and I took of my jacket, placing it so i could sleep more comfortablly.
"How will i..?" Bianca was confused on how she could lay down since most of my body took the backseat.
"Just lay on me." I told her, causing her to turn bright red. Eventually she layed on me, hiding hsr face in my chest, obviously embarrassed. I smiled as I wrapped my arms around her, falling asleep.
Thalias POV:
"What's the Mountain of Despair?" Percy asked me, causing me to raise an eyebrow, by the gods hes dense AND stupid.
"You really don't know? Ask stupid Zoe. She's the expert." I glared out the windshield. Why did she have to be right about Luke? I hate that bitch so much, ans her daughter too.
We sat in silence for a while: "That's why you don't get along with Zoe." I frowned. "What?"
"The Hunters tried to recruit you," Percy guessed. I want to zap him right now, hes lucky hes my friend.
I almost joined them," i admitted. "Luke, Annabeth, and I ran into them once, and Zoe tried to convince me. She almost did, but…"
"But?" My fingers gripped the wheel. "I would've had to leave Luke."
"Oh."
"Zoe and I got into a fight. She told me I was being stupid. She said I'd regret my choice. She said Luke would let me down someday." I watched the sun through the metal curtain.
I couldn't admit the fact that cause of that argument i almost killed Carmilla, who was only standing by.
"That's harsh," he said. "Hard to admit Zoe was right."
"She wasn't right! Luke never let me down. Never."
"We'll have to fight him," he said. "There's no way around it."
I didn't answer.
"You haven't seen him lately," he warned. "I know it's hard to believe, but—"
"I'll do what I have to."
"Even if that means killing him?"
"Do me a favor," i said. "Get out of my car."
As he was about to leave, i said, "Percy." He looked back, pity in his eyes, i dont need his pity.
"Annabeth wanted to join the Hunters, too. Maybe you should think about why." Before he could respond, i raised the power windows and shut him out.
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scekrex · 3 days
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Could you write angel!Adam x sinner!reader and they had something going on before and now extermination day is there and they meet on the battle field? Obviously Adam can't just spare him bc then the others would notice
I fucking got you - this somehow ended up being a lot of hurt without comfort so be prepared.
I don't want you to hate me, no, I want you to wanna hate me
pairing: Adam x male!reader
warnings: language, canon typical violence, major character death
note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers
Adam hated going down to hell, no matter what the reason was, even during exterminations he hated the fact that he had to visit Lucifer’s kingdom in order to let some steam off while killing those sinners. What his exorcists did not know was that Adam was more often down in hell than he would ever admit to anyone. The brunette had secrets, secrets that could cause him to fall deep if they were to see the daylight one day. So whenever extermination day rolled around he stayed clear of one certain area in the pride ring to prevent meeting a certain sinner he knew a little too well.
You, on the other hand, always made sure you were to stay somewhere safe - as safe as hell could be during the infamous extermination day, that was. But when that tactic changed because you were running late and you saw the angels flying down from the shiny golden portal that opened in the sky, you knew you were done for. You would not stand a chance against any of them. You rushed through the alleys, tried to hide in the shadows of the buildings as you did your best to reach the safespot you were always hiding at. And as you were to leave the shadows and go for a sprint, an all too familiar angel landed in front of you. And it was then and there that you knew, you would not die by the hand of a random exorcist, no, you were to die by the hand of the angel you considered your lover.
The first man had no problem spotting you, he had known your tactics for years now and had always made sure you were not harmed during this brutal genocide that heaven executed once a year, this year however, he had seen you running through hell’s open streets, you were exposed to his eyes and that meant his exorcist ladies were able to see you as well. and while the first man himself would not act on the sight of you, would let you get away, he knew his ladies would not. Not when neither of them knew how special you were to him.
He grabbed you by the collar of your shirt as he leaned down in order to keep his voice quiet as he hissed, “The fuck are you doing here, bitch? We had a fucking deal - out of sight out of mind.” You tried to pull away from his grip and thought that if no one would see you two together you could continue your way and make it to your safezone in no time without being seen by one of the flying killers. But Adam was not backing down, not loosening his grip on you, not paying attention to Lute who knew exactly where her boss was and who he had targeted when he had left her in the air without a word. “I’m fucking trying, idiot, let me the fuck go before one of your cunts sees us together,” you barked back and finally ripped yourself free from his tight grip, you stumbled a few steps backwards until your back hit the brickwall of the building behind you. “They fucking won’t, I-” the sound of wings flapping came closer and Adam was interrupted by no other than his Lieutenant, “Sir, may I ask what’s taking you so long?”
The brunette froze right there and then, unable to look at something else than you and when the panic that his body felt was starting to reflect in his eyes as well, you were certain there was no way out for you. If Adam would refuse to finish you off, he would make himself very suspicious - you were also convinced that if your angelic lover would refuse to kill you, Lute would do it for him, fuck, she would probably think she would do him a favor by doing so. “Fuck off, this is my deal,” the voice that usually dripped of cockiness and confidence was now shaking, threatening to break. Lute was not having it at all though, she stepped up closer and closer until she was standing right next to Adam. Adam, who had you cornered, Adam who could have easily killed you by now. “Lute,” his voice regained some of the strength and authority that it used to have, “Fuck off and slaughter some of those demon cunts, I’ll handle this one.” But she did not listen to his words, not when you looked so frightened, not when watching you die by the hand of Adam was a thought that amused her as much as it did.
You looked up at Adam, fear was written all over your face, you seeked for help in his eyes, for a plan that would spare you from getting murdered by your loved one, but the first man avoided your eyes as he used his angelic magic to make the battle ax he loved so much appear in his hands. The grin on Lute’s mask was devilish, she was enjoying this on every level even though she had no idea of who you were and how deeply Adam cared about you. In her eyes you were a sinner just like the others, a creature so filthy that he did not deserve to spend eternity anywhere. Not in hell and especially not in heaven. So when Adam raised his ax over his head, he allowed his eyes to meet yours for a tiny moment, he could not bear to look in your eyes for longer, not when fear and betrayal was reflecting in them so vividly. “Adam, please,” you whispered, it was barely audible and you were sure Lute hadn't even heard the words - and if she did, she had made no comment about it. But before the first man could respond or spare you from the fear you were feeling, Lute shoved him aside and impaled you with her spear, right through the middle of your chest where your heart would be located.
Adam wanted to scream, he wanted to cry, he wanted to hurt Lute for hurting you. He wanted to do so, so many things, saving your afterlife was one of them, but those things he wanted to do would expose him, they would expose you. So he turned around without giving you another look as Lute sliced your throat with the sharp edge of her spear. His heart throbbed in his chest painfully heavy and he wanted to wrap you in his wings and protect you from the damage, from the pain and the fear. But instead of acting on his feelings, he pushed himself off the ground and left your corpse behind. The first man went back to heaven immediately, the exorcists however continued their task.
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Wildlife rehab
My husband and I are going to see if becoming licensed wildlife rehabilitators is feasible. We wouldn't publicize it because there's only so much two people can do with no funding, but it would help with other things.
The other things are largely legal. It's illegal to treat most wildlife. I have mixed feelings about these laws. I think they were passed with good intentions, but can result in a lot of suffering of animals who need some TLC.
I volunteered at a wildlife rehab group in a different part of Virginia years ago. It was an amazing experience.
Gonna ramble about a sad experience I had ages ago when I was in middle school (14 yrs old) that's relevant to the above.
In a parallel to how the fledgling crow came to my house, a friend and I found a small, sick bird on the ground outside the school. It probably was some sort of sparrow, likely a House Sparrow which is a well-established invasive species. But I really don't know.
It was small and fluffed up and hardly moving. I'd had a few parakeets, so I knew what a sick bird looks like. It let me pick it up and take it to the only person I could think of who might help, the biology teacher Mr. Rich.
Generally speaking Mr. Rich was a good guy. So my friend and I were surprised when he frowned at the sick bird and said, "What I am I supposed to do with it? Go away."
I don't remember his exact words, but that was the gist of it.
So my friend and I put it in the shade somewhere outside and left it to die.
No one would help.
The notion of bringing the bird home with me never entered my mind until literally right now. It was an impossibility. I needed help at home. My parents sure as hell wouldn't help me with a sick bird.
My husband is the kind of guy who kids will bring a sick bird to, and he brings it home and I run to the store for supplies and at least fucking try.
In a little while I'll go outside and feed the ducks and goats and Harriet the chicken who literally kept crossing the road to be with us. I'll pet them and collect eggs and call to my Cawfords who hang around because there's plenty of food from us feeding the outside pets. As long as Elliot and Sam don't harass or hurt the pets, they're welcome.
(Even if they do poop in the goats' water bucket, so I have to dump it out a lot more often now. Not cool, crows. Not cool.)
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op3ra · 2 months
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two EARLY early rusty pfps of mine.........these are so old it feels like they're from another dimension at this point. both are from september 2022 or so
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