#Eternal and Evergreen

[inevitablemoment]

Chapter 12: Seeing You Everywhere

Cathleen begins seeing herself and Egon in Callie and Gary, Marie and Julian, and Natalie and Lars.

[jjs-brainrot]

[aidaughter]

[agentc0rn]

It’s his birthday,,,

[hectorthedoggo]

art i arted

the shading at the bottom was unintentional but it kinda gives An Effect so :3

[etherealxmuses]

@adsagsona from here

Charlotte liked Mitchell, but he was different—a completely different creature, just like her, perhaps not the same exactly, but there's a connection between them even though she knows he's a vampire; she doesn't feel the urge to stay away. In fact, she is drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

Sleep continues to cast a shadow over her mind as she calls out to him. "I felt you move," she whispered, shifting closer to him as he lay back down. "You were just going to leave without telling me?" she asked with a chuckle.

[papayafiles]

i need more lando merch

[ycungmagick]

It happened over night.

Ophelia went from a tiny girl with a small shop, to now creating a sanctuary for the young and old to protect from the effects of this now eternal spring.

She's unsure how or why this happened, but the fairies that ventured to and from the forest to tell her news mentioned one name... Ynemn.

She's not deterred. She's dealt with something younger. She doesn't have her mother this time, but... she's prepared. And strangely... her mother never left. Her main focus right now? It's protecting the innocent. She'll find who's truly responsible and stop them herself. Right now. Tend to the weak and innocent. That's the most important part.

[ottervii]

My Ivy The symbolism of fidelity, friendship, and eternity. Not letting go on what it's attached itself to, binding different plants together and giving its love forever. Oh, lovely loyal ivy, with his eternal faithfulness and devotion, undying desires and protection. Remaining evergreen and thriving no matter how harsh and cold the world may be. Oh, lovely resilient ivy, with his continuous endurance and longevity, a gift that represents lasting bonds. I bid you nothing but tender affection and a fulfilling life, to go forth and intertwine your beliefs and affection for those you want to guard. To those you hold dear To those you fight standing for To those who need your unyielding sword Oh, my lovely little ivy, I know you will do so much. No matter where you stand amongst your fellow plants, I will forever love you and only you. My loyal, resilient, little ivy. My knight.

-o7

[inevitablemoment]

Chapter 21: The Lake House

The last time that everyone was at the lake house before Egon and Cathleen left.

[elsvenus]

𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐁𝐁𝐅!𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐋𝐄

𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐬 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ✷ small character study on my take of brother’s best friend ellie williams, half loser, half cocky, wholly a stoner and sorta in love with you ✷ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.4k

she lingers now, you notice effortlessly. every time your eyes fail their decades-long training—setting boundaries, gaze averting, mind wandering—there she is. a sliver of circle shaped sun-drenched forest green, shrinking with each glance from pupils dilated, an ever-expanding benevolent black hole of quiet mystery that beckons you for a swim inside.

ellie williams sits with one hand on your brother’s video game console, the other curled into a fist, tight, as if holding something delicate, as if keeping something from spilling. your name, maybe. or worse—your wanting. if she opened her palm, would it be there, trembling in the lines of her skin, the shape of your yearning pressed deep into her flesh? you wonder if she feels it the way you do, the way it hums low beneath your ribs, restless, aching. but she does not look at you. not directly. she’s just seemingly in eternal waiting for your eyes to find her shape, in order for her to capture yours hostage. caught you, the spring of evergreen irises would say.

she rolls you flowers and tea herbs when they have weed, so you only feel half-excluded, but somehow wholly special. as if you belong, but in a way that is softer, carved out just for you. she laughs when you choke on the smoke—an almost giggle, something bright and fleeting, something she might have swallowed if she’d thought twice. but she doesn’t. she lets you hear it. lets it bloom between you, light and golden, the kind of sound that lingers in the air long after it’s gone.

and when your brother isn’t looking—when he’s too deep in the kind of high that turns people into statues, his eyes fixed on something distant, unreadable—she presses her knuckles against your back, slow, deliberate. a touch meant to ground, to soothe, but all it does is send you drifting. the warmth of her lingers longer than it should, more than it has to, drowning out the edges of your thoughts until there is nothing left but the feeling of her there. you get drugged out too, those days. on her.

your brother’s back in his room now, drinking gallons of water like he’s convinced he’ll dry out without it, half-believing he’s a fish from a bad batch he thankfully didn’t share. ellie laughs, loud and sudden, the kind of laughter that takes up space, that fills the whole room. it’s bolder than before, more her than what she she does with only you, raw and raspy, something unpolished, something that might cut if you got too close. and you are too close, aren’t you? because you’re looking again.

she’s half-smiling, and in the moonlight, it catches like a smirk, sharp in the right places, softened by the dark. she tilts her head, eyes gleaming. caught you.

“you wanna try something real this time?” she asks, the blunt extended between you.

you only ever knew how to nod towards her.

she watches as you take it, settling back on her palms like she’s waiting for a show. something in the way she grins makes your hands unsteady, but you bring it to your lips anyway. inhale. hold. the burn is immediate, a slow creep of warmth unfurling from your chest outward. ellie huffs out a laugh through her nose. “oh, you’re about to cough so hard, dude.”

you shake your head, stubborn, the smoke curling behind your teeth. she raises her brows, waiting. and then it hits. it claws up your throat, rips out of you in a fit of coughing so violent your eyes water. ellie all but folds in half, laughing. “holy shit, i called it,” she wheezes, knocking her fist against your shoulder. “should’ve put money on that.”

you try to glare at her, but it’s hard to do when you’re still catching your breath. “shut up.”

“nah, this is great,” she says, still laughing, voice all scratchy delight. “your face right now—jesus.” she mimics your expression, eyes wide, mouth parted in dramatic horror, and you groan, shoving at her arm. she lets you. doesn’t move away. you don’t know if it’s the weed or the way the air between you has always felt charged, but when you look at her again, she’s already looking back. head tilted. amused. eyes heavy-lidded in the dark.

“not bad, huh?” she murmurs.

the weed or her? you don’t ask. just shake your head. just take another hit, a safer smaller one this time, like you should take everything ellie gives you in homeopathic doses. from the pressure of her watching you take another hit, you do it better—slow, steady, the way she does. her smirk twitches like she wants to make another joke, but it dissolves against her tongue like sugar. instead ellie just watches, just leans in, just tilts her head like she’s examining something she hasn’t quite figured out yet and it burns stronger than your throat.

“look at you,” she says, soft, teasing. “all grown up.”

you exhale slow, the smoke slipping from your lips in a lazy curl, and it’s impossible to ignore the way her gaze catches on your mouth.

“shut up,” it seems to be all you know how to say when you’re with her, but it doesn’t land the way it should, ever. though especially not when her face is this close, when the warmth of her laughter still hangs in the air between you, something heady, something thick. honeysuckle.

ellie hums, tilting her chin, considering. “nah, i don’t think i will.” and then she’s reaching out. fingers grazing your wrist, tracing up, up, until they hook gentle around the blunt between your fingers. she doesn’t take it right away. just lets her touch linger, a question she doesn’t ask out loud.

you swallow. “you gonna take it or just hold my hand?”

her smirk sharpens, but there’s a flicker of something else beneath it. something that makes your breath hitch.

“dunno,” she murmurs. “you want me to hold your hand?”

you scoff, roll your eyes, but your pulse betrays you, hammering loud in your ears. she’s still close. too close. her fingers brush yours as she finally takes the blunt, as she brings it to her lips, and you should look away, you really should, but you don’t. can’t. she exhales, slow, and the smoke drifts between you, warm and hazy.

“open your mouth,” she says, quiet.

your stomach flips. “what?”

she huffs a laugh, amused, but there’s something different in her eyes now, something intent. “just—trust me.”

you do. you always have.

so you part your lips, and ellie leans in, even closer, until you can see the tiny scar on her eyebrow, the way her pupils are blown wide. she tilts her head just so and exhales, slow and warm, right into your waiting mouth. your eyes flutter shut. her hand—god, when did she touch your face?—is warm against your jaw, fingers pressing just lightly enough to keep you still, to keep you here, breathing her in.

the smoke fades, but she doesn’t pull away. neither do you. there’s no space left between you now, just the heat of her palm, the ghost of her breath against your lips. your pulse stutters, waiting, waiting. and then she moves, just barely, just enough and her lips are on yours.

her lips are chapped against the soft press of yours, rough in a way that makes you shiver. her tongue is wet against your own lips, slipping past them like a question she already knows the answer to. her hands are on your cheekbones, fingertips digging in, dragging at your skin like she’s trying to make sure you’re real—like she’s kneading you into something pliant, something hers. like you’re bread dough under her touch, like she’s shaping you to fit into her.

and oh, you do. you do, you do, you do.

you don’t know who moves first after that, only that suddenly it’s all heat, all urgency, her hands slipping to your jaw, your neck, the collar of your shirt like she doesn’t know where to hold you best, like she wants all of you at once. you tilt into her, part your lips wider, let her take what she wants because god, you want it too. want her breath in your mouth, her hands on your skin, the taste of her in your lungs. she exhales into you, a quiet, shaky thing, and you swear you feel it everywhere. in your chest, in your fingertips, in the space between your ribs where something tight and aching has been sitting for too long. her nose nudges yours when she finally pulls back, just enough to look at you, her pupils blown wide, lips pinker than before, shining in the dim light. her breath fans warm over your skin.

and then she grins. lazy, dazed. cocky.

“yeah,” she murmurs, thumb brushing over your cheekbone. “definitely better than weed.”

[agentc0rn]

i cant believe i made 4 promotional posters :0

[etherealxmuses]

"3, 2, 1..." - from Edward

@phantomofagoodtime || Accepting || Meme

Send "3, 2, 1..." for a New Year's kiss from my muse.

Charlotte's eyes sparkled as the countdown began, and her gaze drifted from everyone else to look at Edward 3... 2... 1...

Her breath hitched the moment she saw Edward lean forward. Sparks continuously erupted whenever they kissed, and this time was no different. Arms circled around his neck as they kissed. "Happy New Year," she whispered. "I wonder what this year will bring."

[quickreaver]

If this is earnest confusion, I’mma gonna esplain.

Because shipping any damned thing doesn’t mean you condone it IRL? And, like, stories get told. Inspiration strikes. People ship all kinds of wacky stuff (see: bestiality, cannibalism). Since you’re a newb, trust me when I say this ol’ SPN fandom has been around the block a few times. SPN RPF spawned omega’verse. A popular Wincest shipper was one of the founders of AO3. SPN fandom used to be known as one of the kinkiest, most accepting fandoms going. Anything went, and it usually did! BECAUSE FICTION. I get the emotional whiplash, but it’s not as far-fetched as one might suppose.

When ship-warring became Big Business™️, and the Fourth Wall crumbled, fandom realized it could smear fans who shipped differently, get attention for it, and use shipping as a weapon (or some weird badge of honor). So it did. Pursuit of canonicity became THE THING. Getting the staff and stars to bless a ship, and inflating a ship into “gEnuiNe RepReSenTAtioN” was all the rage. The Anti movement was born.

But look. While the existence of fandom itself did good (imho) in that it demonstrated a need and popularity for less mainstream characters and conventions, fandom has the luxury to do whatever it wants, as long as it’s not making big commercial gains with someone else’s IP (Intellectual Property).

Apologies, witha-boxofscraps, if this was more than you bargained for, but tagging stuff with #SamWinchester is a siren’s call for me. 😅 You can simply mute the offending ship tag and never see the ship again.

Some of us Sammies are wildly diverse multishippers! Or non-shippers. Dabble in ALL the Sam flavors. Doesn’t mean we’re one-dimensional offenders, lol!

Being a new member of the supernatural fandom is so fucking wild because I will literally be reading a fic about Sam and Dean as kids and it will be so well written and I’ll be loving it and then I’ll go to see what else the author has written for the fandom and it’s all fucking wincest man, the whiplash is like no other.

[ycungmagick]

How the forest howls and hungers.

...And yet, each step she took was slow and graceful. The violent plant life and soil was quickly tamed by the spreading of spores and fungi radiating off the young witch.

A living biogazard.

Her once unassuming broomstick now a scythe to reap the plant life that dare threaten her. It is harvesting season after all.

Plants, Mortals, Gods, all would know the sting of the reapers scythe eventually.

But for Ophelia...?

"You cannot kill me in a way that matters...."

[voxslays]

DECORATING THE CHRISTMAS TREE

⤷ Featuring; Lucifer x Reader, In which: Reader and Lucifer decorate the Hotel’s Christmas tree for Charlie. ˋ°•*⁀➷

It was the beginning of the holiday season in hell. Imps, Succubi, and other hellborn celebrated their familial winter traditions, while sinners celebrated the earth traditions they brought with them when they died. You were one of them. Once a simple human, now damned to eternal suffering in hell…yet it never seemed so bad. You had met Lucifer a few months back, when he had first arrived at the hotel, and once again when he saved the hotel residents from Adam and the exterminators. You had talked to him frequently since he moved in, and you two had become close friends.

Earlier this morning, Charlie had called you and the other residents down into the lobby. She explained she wanted to decorate the hotel and make it extra festive to give everyone a little holiday spirit. You were assigned tree duty. Firstly, you needed a tree. “Hey, Alastor…?” You smile sweetly. “Yes, my dear?” Alastor says, his usual radio static even more prominent this morning. “Could you make us a tree?” Before you can even blink, there is a beautiful snowy evergreen standing straight up in the middle of the lobby. “Thanks Alastor!” You run over to admire the tree.

Next you marched down into the hotel's cellar. It was dark and damp, not the kind of place you would like to spend very long in. You hurriedly grabbed the ornaments Charlie had stored. Unfortunately, there were at least ten decent sized crates of fragile ornaments, forcing you to take multiple trips. Once all of the tree’s decorations (and a tall orange ladder) were in the lobby, you could finally begin. This was going to take hours.

And then Lucifer entered the lobby, his golden eyes immediately locking onto you as you decorated the tree. It was obvious he had just woken up. There were slight eyebags under his eyes, and his hair was slightly disheveled, yet he was even more beautiful in your opinion. You couldn't help but stare at the way the lights reflected in his eyes, casting a warm glow on his face. You felt your heart skip a beat as he watched you, completely entranced by your presence. “Good Morning, your highness. I’m surprised you’re awake so soon.” You jest playfully.

​​Lucifer chuckles softly, his eyes never leaving yours as he walks closer to you. He leans against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest as he watches you continue to decorate the tree. His gaze is intense, filled with a joyful and adoring look that only you seem to notice. “So… what do you think so far?” You ask, stepping down from the step stool you were standing on and admiring your work. The tree was empty except for the Christmas lights you had wrapped around its branches. "It's beautiful... just like you." Luci’s voice comes out in a childish, playful manner as he reaches out to gently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

You laugh sweetly. “Well I still have about two thousand…ish-? ornaments to put on the tree.” He watches as you grab a box of ornaments, his eyes never leaving your form. He steps closer to you, his presence looming over you. "Need any help?" His tone is gentle and charming. “Yes please!” You smile gratefully. He sits down next to you on the floor, his long legs stretched out as he begins to help you unwrap the ornaments. Luci carefully takes each one from the box, his fingers brushing against yours occasionally as he hands them to you to hang on the tree. With Luci’s help, you have to quickly pull out the stool again…and then a ladder. You almost think Alastor chose the tallest tree he could find on purpose, just to make you suffer. The tree was almost to the roof of the two-story lobby!

Lucifer laughs at your struggle, his golden eyes crinkling at the corners. He leans the ladder against the tree, watching as you climb up to decorate the harder to reach branches. "You know, Alastor did this on purpose, didn't he?" He laughs in a jolly tone. “That’s what I was thinking!” You laugh. You have reach to put the next ornament up. You shift your weight a little too much, and feel the ladder start to fall. You let out a shriek. Without missing a beat, Lucifer’s wings appear as he flies up and catches you midair. "Whoa there!" His wings wrap slightly around you protectively as he slowly descends with you in his arms. His heart was racing—not from the sudden movement, but from the feel of you in his arms. "Careful there...don't want you getting hurt."

“Thanks…!” You say out of breath. Luci sets you back down on your feet, keeping one arm around your waist to steady you. "Maybe we should just skip the top branches and focus on the lower ones, huh?" He smiles, his warm breath tickling your ear. "I can always use my wings to reach anything we miss." You smile warmly. “I’d like that.” You say, grabbing a light blue ornament gently from his grasp. As you continue decorating, Luci stays close by your side, occasionally reaching up to grab a decoration and hand it to you to hang. He hums along to the music playing in the background, his arm never leaving your waist.

After a few hours of decorating, the only thing left is the star. You carefully unwrap the silk red and golden cover and hand it to Lucifer. “Would you do the honors?” He leans in, his arm around your waist tightening slightly as he takes the star. "Of course." He gently places the star at the very top of the tree, his wings fluttering slightly as he reaches. "There we go. Perfect." Lucifer slowly descends from the tree, his golden eyes meeting yours. He keeps one hand around your waist, pulling you slightly closer. "You know, the tree looks great, but..." His voice trails off, his face lighting up with a devilish grin. "There's still something missing." He chuckles, his arm around your waist tightening. “Hm?” You hum teasingly.

Without warning, Lucifer leans in and presses his lips against yours in a gentle yet passionate kiss. His hand comes up to cup your cheek, his thumb caressing your skin. "Now it's perfect." You laugh gently, your giggles like music to hell’s ears. “You are so cheeky.” Lucifer chuckles softly, his red pupils sparkling with amusement and something more. "Cheeky? Me? Never!" He presses another quick kiss to your lips, then whispers close to your ear. "Though I do love it when you make that little giggle of yours." You smirk. “Maybe I’ll do it more often then.” His face lights up with a brilliant smile, his golden eyes crinkling at the corners. "I’d love that.”