#actually this gave me an idea for pamphlet

[rwby-confess]

Confession #140

[randomshyperson]

Sanctify - Cult Leader!Wanda Maximoff x Reader - Kinktober #06

Summary: After your worst semester at NYU, your Aunt Agatha convinces you to join the Children of Chaos as an alternative, and very expensive form of therapy. Leaving the cult becomes a very difficult task when you develop an unexpected affection for their leader.

Warnings: (+18), dom!wanda and brat!reader, rough smut, face-fucking, power dynamics, brat taming (ish), praising, lots of tension and teasing, definitely blasphemous on some levels, a lot of plot, mentions of past toxic relationship, unspecified age gap.  | Words: 7.900k

A/N-> I’ve been dying to write something about Cult Leader Wanda since I watched the second season of Yellowjackets and became obsessed with Lottie Matthews, so while writing this, I was picturing Lottie’s cult to be fair. I also like how I ended this, as it makes it possible to turn it into a series. Good reading!

General Masterlist | Kinktober Collection | AO3 | Wattpad

-&-

Although the movement of the car brought a gentle breeze through the window, the weather was hot enough to actually make thinking painful.  In an attempt to relieve the temperature a little, and perhaps escape Aunt Aggie's provocative reminiscences about the long journey and the events that made this trip necessary in the first place, you put your arm on the door, and propped your chin up, your face on the safety edge outside the window.

New York had been out of sight for hours and had given way to countless trees and a plantation further and further away. You figured it wouldn't take long for the radio signal to stop working, but to your pleasant surprise, the soft melody of cassette tapes hidden in the glove compartment by Nicholas were picked up once that happened.

Your cousin had grown up over the summer - His still youthful appearance now featured neatly cut curly hair and reading glasses that he often hung on the collar of his shirt. When younger, it was common to hear how much he resembled Sir. Scratch, his scumbag father in the words of Agatha and the other adults, not yours - but over time, he looked much more like his mother.

Nick met your gaze through the rearview mirror and gave you an assuring smile. You didn't reciprocate, but not because you were upset. Just because you were distracted by the huge sign coming around the next corner.��

"Oh, boy, I've missed this place." Agatha commented with a nostalgic sigh, as soon as she noticed the entrance plaque. She slowed down enough that the wind wasn't enough anymore, so you returned to your original position with a low snort.

"There's still time to turn around." You muttered, getting a warning look from the older woman.

She leaned over, without answering you, to grab something from the open glove compartment. You pushed your hair back as a pamphlet was dropped into your lap.

"I know you hated the idea, but you need to trust your elders for once in your life, darling." Agatha began, as you grimaced at the crumpled paper. The title Children of Chaos was painted in red, but it was faded in several places. "The 70s were the apex for this place, I had a lot of fun here. It's such a unique experience, connecting with nature and the chaos that is part of us all."

Nick chuckled through his nose. "Mom, don't start your witch thing again, you'll scare her." Mocked your cousin from the passenger seat, but Agatha waved him off.

"She'll thank me when she gets there, I'm sure." 

But you didn't do that. When the car finally came to a stop, and what looked more like a fancy farm merged with the forest took over your vision, all you did was crumple the Immersive Community pamphlet into your pocket and throw your old backpack over your shoulder.

Aunt Aggie and your cousin hugged you tightly, saying they were going to write, but they couldn't get past the reception desk since they weren’t part of the program. You saw Agatha take your mom’s borrowed credit card out of her purse to start your so-called treatment, and the last goodbyes left your tongue before one of the tutors started the tour of the place.

In between presenting a large number of different huts that served as dormitories and classrooms for the most diverse activities - painting, handicrafts or poetry were the ones you memorized - Mr. Emil Blonsky also took the time to welcome you, emphasizing how incredible the community was and how lucky anyone was to be there. You bit your tongue to keep from telling him that only those with money could.

Finally, Blonsky showed you the stables and greenhouses on the edge of the property, and on the way back to the rest of the huts, you noticed the path up the hill.

"And what's up there?" 

The man stopped walking with a small smile. He was wearing clothes very similar to those of the other people you'd seen on the tour, the difference being a golden necklace with a strange symbol that was hidden by the movement of his loosely buttoned shirt.

"We must not go up there without permission." He begins, although he's smiling, there's something in his gaze that says this rule cannot be disrespected. " The Prophetess' Retreat is a sacred place of peace and reflection." 

You look back at the hut at the bottom of the mountain, far enough away that you can't make out the decorations on the balcony, but still beautiful and quiet, high enough to make it look like the prophet had her own little piece of heaven.

"So, no bothering the boss without asking? Got it." You retort, getting a chuckle from the other at the summary. He starts walking again along the path towards the general area, but you can't help the curiosity burning in your chest. "About this prophet, will she be isolated up there or will I get a chance to meet her?"

Blonsky walks up beside you, and looks you in the eye to say; "You'll meet her when it's time to meet her, not early and not late."

You don't know what to say to that, everything here is so theatrical in a way. Mystical, you might say. It suits Aunt Aggie so well, that it's not hard to imagine her here, dancing to the midnight moon and talking to the trees. She already does that in New York, it should have been much simpler in the middle of the forest.

"Come, child. You must start the cleaning process soon." Announces the man as he picks up the pace on the trail. With a sigh, you decide not to contradict him by saying that you bathed before coming, thank you. 

It was soon revealed that the cleansing process really meant a bath - the colleagues around you who helped you laughed when you joked that it was a strange way of saying that someone stinks, before clarifying that it was nothing of the sort. The Cleansing Process was a bath of salts and herbs, in a tub of stones and some kind of botanical baptism, the latter of which only members who had completed thirteen full moons could take part in. You would be invited to the baptism with the prophet's blessing, but there was still a long way to go.

Blonsky handed your uniforms, and explained the last rules before leaving you alone, or almost, since your hut was shared with six other people, and despite this, it seemed very comfortable and organized. There were bunk beds and private bathroom spaces, and at least three spacious shelves for each. The latter wouldn't be of much use to you, since you'd brought almost nothing and the vast majority of your belongings had been left at NYU. Just thinking about that place gave you a terrible stomach ache: You would have skipped dinner, but the mere suggestion of not attending made one of your colleagues frown in concern and repeat the rules, so you ended up giving that up.

The routine that followed was calm: it didn't surprise you that the new members were responsible for the hardest tasks, and it didn't bother you either. You were never afraid of hard work, and keeping your hands busy also helped to calm your mind, so it was a win-win. Besides, even if you didn't get the jobs nobody wanted, all veterans had chores. There was some rule about the amount of service time and dedication being rewarded, so those senior members could choose what they wanted to do first. 

You didn't have to worry about this anyway: you would do what you had to do because, after all, the agreement was to stay here only for the summer. However, with each passing day away from exams, traffic, and New York's typical filth, it became harder to imagine leaving the Children of Chaos and their strange harmony and kindness.

After three weeks in the group, you learned to knit. You also earned the privilege of mail when you showed up for all your appointments without delay and decided to check the items in the privacy of your cabin during the last hour of prayer.

Since you hadn't yet found your faith or received your calling or whatever weird way Blonsky explained this, you barely joined in the prayer sessions. This evening, excited to receive news from home, was no different.

Aunt Aggie wrote about the store doing well and mentioned your mother, who didn't write to you with more than vague words about hoping you'd feel better soon. The best present was hidden in Nicholas' letter about the university being a sack without his favorite cousin. Wrapped in silk and next to a lighter.

You haven't earned the right to write outside yet - something about a month in isolation to accomplish. So you just clutched the items to your chest and wished your cousin knew how grateful you were.

Your initial intention was to save the weed for some more stressful day - which was rare in the leisurely pace of this place - but the last letter made you consider using it all that night.

The recipient's perfect handwriting, and the address you knew by heart. You didn't even open the item, you put it away in your drawer and stood up with the weed hidden in your pants pocket.

The common area was empty, as the vast majority of your colleagues were praying. You stepped up to one of the bonfires and threw the unopened letter into the flames, without hesitation and without caring to see it burn. You turned on your heels and continued along the trail, heading for one of the few more secluded spots you had discovered during the hours of exploring between tasks.

The rules were clear about the prophet's hut but said nothing about the road towards it. And since apparently everyone there was afraid of upsetting the boss, that spot was always empty and the perfect place to smoke in hiding.

You leaned against a tree, curled up and lit the weed, and tried to keep away all the painful memories about last semester that the damn letter had brought up.

You were halfway through a joint when you heard a voice at the end of the trail next to you.

"Good evening, Y/N."

"Jesus fucking Christ." You gasped, jumping with fright and almost dropping the blunt to the ground. You looked sideways abruptly, imagining that you were hallucinating because of the weed, and were almost sure that you were when the words escaped you due to the apparition in front of you. The most beautiful woman you've ever seen in your life. Instead of a uniform, she wore a loose dark wine dress that hugged her curves perfectly; her long red hair cascaded down her shoulders and back and her emerald eyes shone curiously in your direction. The dim light from the fire lamps scattered along the trail and the moon really made the woman look like an angel. 

You coughed awkwardly. "Sorry, you scared me." You clarified, the cigarette hidden behind your back a stupid attempt to mask what you were doing. Sure enough, your pupils were dilated, and it was very easy to see the smoke. So, as soon as you tried to hide it, you gave up, offering the woman an awkward chuckle and gesturing the cigarette gently. "Don't tell on me."

There was a soft pause, which you couldn't tell from the intoxication in your system. The woman watched for a moment as the charming gesture of bringing the cigarette to the smile formed on your lips and blew the smoke into the starry sky with your neck slightly stretched. Your mind seemed to clear, and before the woman could speak, you grimaced. "Wait, didn't you just say my name? How..?"

She smiled, folding her hands in front of her body. "It was premeditated that we met today, of course. I'm Wanda."

You've heard her name before, in conversation circles and in advertisements about her heavenliness hanging around. 

"Shit." It was your natural reaction, which made her laugh softly, and it must have been the weed's fault that the sound echoed in your mind and made your body shudder.

"Don't worry, I won't snitch on you." She assures you with an easy smile playing on her lips, and you swallow dry, completely at a loss.

"Thanks... but I thought you were the boss." You mumble, and Wanda makes a funny expression, like a false realization. 

"Oh, you're right." She murmurs amusedly. "I think I can let this one slide if you'll share it with me." 

"Fuck, of course, here." Your limbs feel strange, almost too heavy to move around her. You awkwardly hand her the cigarette, certain that your face is flushed. Hell, the last time you were this clumsy was last semester, with-

"You swear a lot." Wanda's comment pulls you out of your daze. She takes a long drag before adding: "Especially for a Christian."

You chuckle, shaking your head. "My father's a Christian, not me." You retort, and end up grimacing. "And how do you know-"

"This is a very exclusive program, sweetheart." Wanda cuts you off again, the cigarette between her fingers but her gaze is completely focused on your face. "Having a lot of money or being someone's niece isn't enough to guarantee you a spot, but a good letter of recommendation might. And Agatha wrote me almost everything about you, except the reason for rushing to get you here before the next recruitment period."

The sentence was an invitation for you to speak, but you didn't fall for the bait. On the contrary, you looked away with tense shoulders, and Wanda didn't press. At least, not now. She took another drag before commenting more softly:

"We have general meetings every Wednesday. We encourage members to open up." 

You grimace softly. "Group therapy isn't my thing."

But Wanda smiles lopsidedly, giving you back the joint. " Neither is nice weed." She retorts a little provocatively, attracting your attention. "If you want to try something new, show up next week. And if you want to try something good, you should try the weed from our greenhouse. It won't taste like crushed dirt." Adjusting her hair around her shoulders, she offers you a wink. "Have a good night, darling."

You think about the color of her eyes for the rest of the night.

-&-

Sooner than you'd expect, you'll discover that Wanda isn't the type to let things slide. Far from it, she notices everything, especially those who are being too slack and prone to not following the teachings of the Children of Chaos, possibly ruining their record of total efficiency or something.

She puts an end to your plans for a quiet summer, trying to go unnoticed among the countless other followers just as abruptly as she left her meditation hut. Wanda seems to appear at every moment that you consider escaping from your commitments - it even occurs to you that she has a particular interest in watching you, but the idea sounds so absurd that you push it away while forcing a polite smile before returning to your duties.

Less than two weeks after you met, you finally stopped avoiding Group Therapy and showed up on time to join the session. The presence of Wanda, in a loose dark purple dress and her red hair tied up in a neat braid, makes you almost give up, convinced that you couldn't say anything without stuttering in the presence of such a stunning woman.

But she offers a gentle smile, opening her arms softly. "Come along, darling, you're just in time." She greets and you stumble towards a corner in the background, begging the gods that you can attend in silence this time.

It doesn't seem so difficult when it's other people doing it. A young man with whom you've already shared the task of looking after the stables spoke of the frustrations of returning from enforced service with a missing limb, and how the support he didn't get from the government and family members, he found here. Bucky received a finger-snapping applause - something that was explained to you as a way to avoid triggers on the countless ex-combatants or victims of post-traumatic stress that make up the crowd - before giving his turn to another ex-military woman, Carol Danvers.

More stories were shared until Wanda's gaze fell on your slumped figure and she called your name. All the attention in the room fell on you too, and you chuckled awkwardly.

"Thanks, but I'm not good at public speaking." You retorted, but Wanda, with her hands folded over her stomach, gave you a gentle smile.

"Don't worry about it, dear, this is a no-judgment zone." She says, but you make no mention of getting up, and her gaze becomes more insistent. "It's important that we all make an effort to be present at these exercises. We encourage participation around here. Come along, dear, please." And she smiled so kindly that you could only trust her.

The group offered a small chorus of encouragement, and before you knew it, you were a few steps away from the redhead, who held out her hands for your wrists.

"I want you to take a deep breath and close your eyes." Wanda guided, her melodic voice bringing goose bumps all over your body. "Turn all your attention inward. And tell me, is there anything in there that you'd like to share with the group?"

The memories of last semester hit you full force. But Wanda massages your wrists and it feels as if she can calm down the whole storm inside of you.

You sigh, before opening your eyes. "I... I don't know where to start." Your whisper is met by another chorus of support from the members, who retort that you're safe. Wanda releases your wrists to sit with the others, and you try not to be so self-conscious while you're in the spotlight. "I think I can share with you the reason why I'm here." You declare a moment later, taking another deep breath.

Bucky gives you an encouraging smile, mimicking that of the people around him, and you swallow.

"I don't have a history of fighting and overcoming war or any illnesses, so I'm sorry to disappoint anyone." You mumble, receiving confused looks.

The former sergeant assures you: "No problem competes with another. All our pains have their importance." And it seems to be something that has already been repeated here a few times because everyone shakes their heads in agreement.

You scratch the back of your head awkwardly. "Right... well, I won't beat around the bush. A month ago, when I was first enrolled here, I had just been kicked out of my house. Well, it wasn't exactly my house anymore, because I'd been living on campus for about three years, but I think you get the idea." You say, laughing awkwardly at the anxiety in your chest. You try to clear your throat so that your voice doesn't come out so shaky, but only Wanda's gaze really helps to calm your nerves. "And the reason for this was a relationship that my parents, more specifically my mother, didn't approve of. To be fair, no one really approved, because, well, the person... hm, I don't think there's any other way to put it, was another woman. An older woman, and also my professor. And well, the whole thing would have been a scandal anyway, but I really let myself believe that when the worst was over, we'd be fine. Bad news, we weren't." You laugh sadly. You pause, imagining that you'll get judgmental looks, but everyone listens attentively. "For a while, I thought the worst part was afterward. When everyone knew and judged me, and how my mother freaked out, and I tried... but no. The worst part was not realizing what that love if I can call it that, was doing to me. How ill it was making me. And until I got here, learned things about myself, and managed to take a break from everything that was left behind... For a while, I really hoped to go back and fix everything, but now... damn, sometimes I don't even think about leaving this place."

The group celebrates quietly, exchanging words of encouragement. Your ears feel warm, and Wanda stands up again. "You can stay as long as you need, darling." She says, massaging your forearm. She calls someone else to speak, but doesn't miss the opportunity to whisper in your ear: "I'm proud, stay a little longer today, I want to talk to you." 

And you think you haven't absorbed anything for the rest of the morning.

Eventually, the session ends, and as soon as the room is empty, Wanda turns her face towards you.

"You were brave today, sweetheart." 

Your hands, busy putting the cushions away, tremble a little. But you offer her an incredulous chuckle.

"Yeah, right." It's your answer, which makes Wanda frown in curiosity. At her inquisitive silence, you sigh before clarifying: "Everyone's nice, but I know it's kind of silly that my big trauma is a break-up and not post-traumatic stress from war or something that actually matters."

Wanda presses her lips together, studying you for a moment, and you take the opportunity to put away the last of the cushions. Suddenly, she says:

"This lack of respect for your own feelings comes from parental negligence, I suppose."  You turn your face away in surprise, but Wanda gives you a small smile: "James wasn't lying when he said that no pain should compete with another. We all have our internal and external battles, and we shouldn't belittle our pain. I believe we should honor it, and wear it. And here, dear, you will learn to do that." Wanda makes her way around to one of the cupboards at the back, and you watch her movements in silence, from reaching into one of the last drawers to returning to you with an item in hand. "I have an invitation for you."

She opens the box she's brought, and inside is a necklace very similar to the one the instructors wear. The main difference is the symbol, the crown that Wanda also carries on the pendant around her neck. You frown in confusion.

"What is it?"

She wraps the item between her fingers, her gaze on you. "The disciple's necklace. The last one from the current solstice." 

You imitate the gesture, touching the item with the tips of your fingers. Wanda doesn't move her hand away as your fingers brush together, and you ignore your own shyness as you watch her bite her lip for a moment. "I don't understand what it means."

She licks her lips, and the movement doesn't go unnoticed by your eyes. "It means that you would be my apprentice. You would accompany me during periods of meditation, you would study my teachings closely, you would be... entirely dedicated to..."

"You?" you add, and Wanda lets out a shuddering breath, warm against your cheek. When did she get so close?

"If you wish." She whispers, and you pull away gently, your face hot but the last thread of sanity in your mind.

"I'm sure there are more experienced members dying for this position. It wouldn't be right-"

Wanda shakes her head, interrupting you. "They weren't chosen. You were." She assures you, pressing the box with the necklace against your chest. "And if it wasn't you, the place would be empty until the next solstice. You don't have to accept it, darling. It's not a summons. It's an invitation."

You sigh, holding the box against your chest. "I just... I've never done anything like this. I don't want to mess things up."

There's a bell in the distance, signaling the start of the next activities. Wanda glances outside briefly before stepping close enough to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth that makes your whole body heat up at once.

"Just listen to your instincts." She whispers, before pulling away with a small smile.

You write to Agatha about it the following evening, but you don't have the courage to seal the letter for sending. The whole conversation with Wanda seems too private to be shared in this way. 

Although the woman said it was just an invitation, you could feel some pressure to make a decision, and it seems that the news had been circulating ever since one of the tutors couldn't find the box of the last chaos disciple pendant, and Wanda ended up mentioning that she had extended another invitation.

In a way, you were stalling. Between your activities and meetings, you hadn't made any decisions and you hoped that the end of the summer would force Wanda to choose someone else. But there was also the question of the new, burning feelings that had appeared since you first laid eyes on her, and which seemed to awaken every time you two were in the same environment. 

The idea of departing, of leaving her behind like a closed chapter in your life, seemed absurd every passing day.

In your second month with the Chaos Children, you received a rather unusual request: take the prophet her morning drink.

The crumpled piece of paper was handed to you by one of your cabin mates: Kate Bishop. A former student, a little younger than you, who, after destroying a bell at the university, was sent here by her millionaire mother. Kate was to stay until she had balanced her irresponsible impulses and could take over the family's security empire.

She seemed a little reluctant to interrupt your concentration on cleaning the garden, but much more determined not to disappoint Wanda.

"Just give it to the kitchen staff, they'll know what to do. And prioritize, she doesn't like to wait." Said the girl, but you gave her hand a gentle tug before taking the paper.

"But why did she ask me?" you asked, but Kate had no idea and just shrugged before leaving the garden.

While the kitchen staff prepared the item, you tried to improve your appearance in the bathroom next to the lounge, wiping all the soil from the plants from under your fingers, and even what had run into your cheeks. 

When you came out, there was another order on the counter and a small group of people who hadn't been there before. They didn't see you. Blonsky, accompanied by two other women you didn't know, were talking to each other.

"I bet it was Carter. She hasn't stopped talking about her private piano lessons with the Prophetess for four whole weeks." Said the first, but the other laughed quietly.

" Sharoon is a simp, that's all. Wanda wouldn't choose her after the episode with Rogers last year, she knows she can't trust her." Rebutted the other. "Besides, I would have assumed it was Bishop, after all, she already acts like a maid. Why train another when you already have one so dedicated?" The women laugh amongst themselves until they finally notice you approaching, and fall silent. Blonsky smiles, but he appears very vicious. 

"Hello, miss. Wouldn't you like to have a say in who our next disciple is?" He asks you, but you shrug, moving forward in the queue in front of the canteen to grab the prophet's items that were clearly being prepared in priority. 

"I don't know anything about it." That's your answer, but the shorter woman gets in your way.

"Come on, dear, it's easy." She begins with a giggle. "Every solstice, the prophetess chooses her disciples. There are 24 of them, 12 of whom will become apostles after their apprenticeship."

You grimace softly. "It's very biblical."

Blonsky chuckles. "Of course, it is, despite the multiculturalism of our group, Wanda was raised in a Jewish Christian home. You're not going to tell me you didn't know that?"

You clear your throat. "Not really. Sorry, I have to run."

But the man puts a hand in your way, only to stretch his body out on the counter and reach for some colored leaves that he crushes and drops into Wanda's glass.

"She likes it this way. I would know, I prepared many when I was her houseboy for the first few weeks here." He says, and you swallow dry, mumbling an awkward thank you before hurrying off.

The path is a little tiring, you think it makes sense of Wanda's physique if she had to climb that trail every day, and you mentally curse yourself for thinking about her body. It's not at all appropriate, honestly.

The door is open, but you knock anyway. The woman inside, wearing her typical long, loose dresses at the edge, is busy finishing a loose fringe in her hair and offers you a smile.

"Come in, dear." 

You do so a little awkwardly, almost overwhelmed by the moment of entering the most private place in the whole camp. It's a beautiful cabin, you let her know, without stopping to admire the perfectly arranged surroundings. You would have thought that the privacy of this place would allow her to make some kind of personal mess, but everything is impeccably in place.

Wanda approaches to pick up the items, and the smile falters on her face at the first sip of her drink.

"Did you put... did you put maca root in this?" She asks, and your natural reaction is a short laugh.

"I didn't prepare it, Wanda."

But she doesn't smile again, her tone of voice remains the same but her attitude changes to one of false kindness. "My morning drink is an ashwagandha. I need my concentration to increase, not my libido." It really sounded like a scolding, and her attitude of handing the cup back to you, accompanied by the memory of the recent events, made your blood boil.

"Well, I'm not your fucking maid, so if it's not good, get another one downstairs, or even better, make it one yourself."

It's the first time you see any kind of fury in her gaze, hot and vibrant, and it makes something in you rouse. Your mention of leaving the cabin is prevented by her hands closing the door and trapping you against the wood.

Wanda takes a deep breath, and the gleam in her eyes changes. "Can I ask... where did this attitude come from?"

You hold the glass tightly against your body, very aware that you'll drop it if Wanda doesn't step away and let you breathe. "I just want to make things clear." You retort with a seriousness that doesn't do justice to the way your heart is racing. "I didn't come to this place to be your personal servant."

Wanda chuckles briefly, letting her gaze drop to your mouth. "Oh, of course not, darling." She whispers. "You're not the type to follow orders willingly. You'd do a terrible job."

Swallowing dryly, you retort: "And why am I here then?"

Wanda smiles innocently. "I asked you to bring my drink." It's her reply, clearly trying to tease you, and you snort impatiently.

"I bet you expected an answer. Well, I haven't made up my mind yet, so if there's nothing else, I'll just go."

Wanda moves to take the glass from you and put it on the table by the door. The next second, her hands are in yours.

"Don't be silly, of course, there's another reason." She retorts, pulling you along as she walks backward into the cabin. "I hear you love painting."

What you had assumed was her personal painting canvas is offered to you. The laugh that escapes you is shy and genuine.

"Wanda, I don't... paint anymore."

But she doesn't flinch, her hands still in yours. "I know you haven't since last semester. It was in the letter. But you've progressed so much, that I thought you could paint for me." When you don't answer, she makes such an adorable expression that your heart skips a beat. "Please?"

Wanda definitely knows how beautiful she is, and how those puppy-dog eyes can take her anywhere. You bite back a smile, agreeing, and almost forget to breathe when she jumps excitedly onto your neck, hugging it for a whole moment before letting go as if she hadn't turned you into a complete mess with one touch.

She doesn't complain about the cocktail again - instead, she drinks it entirely while you get comfortable on the painting stool, doodling for a few moments before starting to paint the only thing you could after so many months without touching a paintbrush.

It's only when the drawing is clearer on the frame that Wanda becomes restless again. Loud sighs take your attention away from the painting and towards her.

"Is something wrong?"

She smiles half-heartedly, and only now do you notice the soft color of her cheeks. "I shouldn't have ignored my own complaints and drunk that juice."

You frown in confusion, letting the brush rest next to the paints. "Was it that bad? If you want, I'll complain to the kitchen-"

Wanda chuckles, shaking her head and you have to shut up because she reaches over to push the canvas out of the way and stops right in front of you, close enough to touch.

"Remember what I said? About focus and about... my libido." She asks, and you can swallow dryly, looking up in the direction of her dilated eyes. She lets her hands rest on your shoulders, pressing the weight of her body gently into yours. "Well, I suppose you'll have to see for yourself. Hold out your hand sweetheart, no, no, down... yes, you can move my dress out of the way." Your trembling fingers brushed against her knee, and immediately obeyed the order. Slowly making your way under her dress, while Wanda bit her lip and watched you draw patterns on her thighs. Finally, your fingers reached the side of her underwear. Instead of pulling it down, you let the inks drop to the ground, and your other hand went under her dress too, repeating the same path as before while you and Wanda panted together. Your face fell forward, flush into her dress, and you pressed your nose against her, inhaling deeply the scent of arousal she exhaled so strongly.

Her hands squeezed your shoulders as yours began to pull down her panties right away. A moment later, gracefully as everything so far, she kicked the item aside and spread her legs gently so that you could slide your fingers between more easily.

You looked up the second your index finger met her warmth, gasping at the mischievous smile of the woman in front of you.

"All this time I've been here..." You started hoarsely, your fingers spreading the wetness between her folds, and enjoying the way Wanda's breath caught in her throat. "Were you this wet?" 

Despite the failure of her own breathing, and the way it's harder to stand up with your intimate stimulation, Wanda gives you a mischievous look and leans her forehead against yours, her red hair making a curtain between your faces. 

"I get like this every time I'm around you." She confesses, giving you a provocative tug on your lower lip that forces you to thrust inside her with more determination. Almost enough for her to lose her pose. Almost. "It's disconcerting, to be honest."

Your thumb presses down firmly on her clit, and Wanda almost buckles into you, the delicious sound that escapes her throat will be in your dreams for sure. "Well, should I apologize, high sanctity?"

She chuckles at the teasing hidden in the nickname, before leaning in completely and capturing your mouth in a fervent kiss that takes you out of orbit for a whole moment, intense enough for you to whimper into her tongue, and force her hips down into yours, practically begging her to grind your lap. Wanda's response to this is a dirty giggle mixed with a moan into your mouth.

Without breaking the kiss that turns into a much hungrier one the next second, you get to your feet, adjusting your hands to grab her thighs to pull her onto your lap and carry her around the room. Between stumbles, you press each other against the various surfaces of the room, tables, and cupboards, exchanging increasingly hot and desperate kisses, and you're pretty sure you're going to have Wanda against the bookshelf if she keeps grinding into your abdomen like that.

In a pause for breath, when she's still wedged between you and the bookcase, your mouth descends on her jaw and Wanda struggles to keep her eyes open. She whimpers shamelessly as your curious hands advance down her body, pulling her dress out of the way and leaving it barely hanging off her body for you to clasp your palms over her now-bare breasts.

Her patience for release is quickly exhausted by the precise stimulation of her breasts, your eager fingers teasing and pinching her nipples until you turn her into a whimpering mess. She gives a determined tug on the hair at the nape of your neck, forcing your face back to hers in a hard, dirty kiss that makes you shudder. She breaks it only to give an order: 

"On your knees." And you groan in obedience, falling to the floor almost at once, desperately pulling her dress aside to force your face into her, now with nothing in the way. Wanda arches her back once your hot mouth finds her drenched cunt; her hands desperate for some kind of support on the shelves behind her, while her chest heaves and her hips are restless against your face. 

Your hungry mouth leisurely devours her, your tongue teasing her folds, spreading her wetness around and making a mess on your face. Your closed eyes show your dedication and surrender to the task, but Wanda tugs at your hair again, trying to gain a little control back and order you to quit the teasing and fuck her the way she needs you to. Fully dilated Irises then confronts her from between her legs, and Wanda loses her breath. 

"Beautiful." She panted, staring back, shamelessly grinding herself into your face. "So beautiful... fuck... on your knees for me... oh, God, detka." She struggles to compliment you, but her native language begins to escape mixed with English shortly afterward, her climax approaching. You moan contentedly at the scene, aware of the state of your own underwear from all this play. Wanda's body begins to betray her, trying to pull away so you grab her thighs with a strong grip, and one of her legs ends up over your shoulder, increasing your reach just the way she needs it to fall over the edge.

Wanda comes on your tongue, spasming against the books, and in a deep moan. You don't let her pull away, keeping her restless hips in place as you lick your way through her previous climax in search of a new one. Soon her whimpering protests at the overstimulation turn into begging, and you fail to hide the smug smile at feeling her so at your mercy for a second time.

She's so close, so close, that the Sokovian comes back to her tongue, but there's a sudden knock on the door, and all the stimulation is interrupted by your fright. Wanda gasps incredulously, losing the time to react in time due to her own lust, and having to watch you stumble away - quickly wiping her cum from your chin with the back of your hand - as she tries not to fall down on her shaking knees.

"Why the fuck did you stop?" she asks in frustration through her teeth, but you, with a very flushed face, look at her with a certain desperation.

"Wanda, there's someone at the door!" You retort as if it were a very justifiable reason to steal an orgasm from her. Wanda huffs angrily, lunging at you and ignoring your confused eyes to pull you upright by the collar of your shirt, hurriedly throwing you onto the mattress. "W-wanda, what?"

"Quiet." She cuts in, pushing your shoulders until you're lying down and following the movement of your body to straddle your lap. The person outside knocks again, and although she's pulling her off, and is still shaking from her last orgasm, Wanda manages to speak in the same tone of voice as she does every morning meeting: "What is it?"

Your protests are muffled when Wanda sits on your face, and in fact, you would have forgotten any guests if Blonsky's voice hadn't sounded in the next second.

"Good morning, Reverend, I've come to join you for today's service." Says the man, but Wanda has to bite her lip hard because you're eating her out again, somehow even better than before. "Reverend?"

Wanda shakes her head, frowning at the difficulty of maintaining a rational thought when she has your tongue inside her. "Hm, I'm not going today, Blonsky... Deliver the service in my place." She fails to sound so breathless and has to close her eyes when your hands grip her thighs tightly, holding her down. 

Blonsky then sounds concerned: "Aren't you feeling well, Reverence?"

Your nose nuzzles into her clit and Wanda reaches for the headboard, a satisfied sigh escaping her. "I feel great." She murmurs back and has to take a deep breath so that the next sound that escapes her isn't a moan. "Just busy. Anything else, Blonsky?"

The man clears his throat, Wanda has to press a hand against her own mouth as you reach another right spot. 

"Hm, yes, Reverend... As you know, the deadline for the selection of the disciple is coming to an end." He begins, luckily unable to hear the muffled sighs inside the room through the closed door. "I have expressed my concerns to Your Reverence about a premature choice of new members-"

Wanda snorts impatiently. "Are you really going to question my choices again, Blonsky?"

"N-no, reverend!" He defends himself quickly. "Never. I just worry that the... affinity, that Your Reverence has acquired for some new members, might affect your judgment about their vocations. The premature choice of a disciple could result in their departure from our community, and we know how the withdrawal of one of our own affects everyone..."

"Don't worry about it." Wanda cuts dry, and now, she's remarkably close to climaxing. She doesn't care about the roughness, she thrusts her hips frantically into your face, muffling your breathless moans. "Y/N is the best choice... she's... so-god... dedicated and-hm... talented-" Wanda's lucky you're quick to react too. She would have screamed to the ceiling, exposing all the inappropriate activities in the room if you hadn't grabbed her thighs and spun her on her back onto the mattress. She didn't have time to lose this orgasm by the brief interruption of your movements - your fingers took the place of your tongue when you hovered above her, and your free hand covered her mouth when you sank inside her again.

Wanda came harder than before, squeezing your fingers and wetting the bed. She clings to your body in a desperate grasp, shocked by the achievement over her body, and grateful for the muffling of her moans. You keep thrusting until she stops squirting on the sheets.

You only remember that Blonsky is still outside because he speaks again. "I'll take your word for it, Your Reverence. And I hope you've made a good choice." He says at last, the sound of his footsteps moving away is ignored by you and Wanda, who meet in a hot kiss in the next second.

Your fingers continue to thrust lightly inside her, even though Wanda shudders from the excessive stimulation. And despite this, she also controls the kiss, which slows down so that she can ask in between: "Tell me, love. Did I do it? A good choice."

You kiss her a little harder. "I still don't know... what I want... or what I should do, Wanda."

She brings one of her hands up to your wrist, stopping your movements. You open your eyes to look at her. Wanda smiles, but her eyes are very mischievous. "You think too hard when the answer is right here." She retorts, giving your hand a gentle tug. You follow her lead, and soon, you have your drenched fingers with her cum inside your mouth. Your hips move instinctively, pressing down on her, and Wanda giggles mischievously, her free hand trailing down your back to encourage the movement. "Don't you want that, baby? You can be all mine."

You suck your fingerprints clean, removing them from your mouth to support yourself on the mattress now that you're so wildly grinding your hips against Wanda's thigh. She doesn't let you indulge in the sensation, grabbing your cheek and stopping your hips with the other at your silence.

Your soft protest is ignored, and your voice is almost a pathetic plea when it comes out. "It's not fair... I was feeling so good."

"Oh, darling, I can make you feel even better, every day if you decide to stay with me." She retorts, her grip softening on your cheek. You look at her, but there is still hesitation in your gaze and Wanda wishes to replace this doubt with something else. She kisses you but pulls away when you go to increase the intensity, ignoring your protest and pushing you gently away by the shoulders. "No playing, until I have an answer."

Wanda flees - because she doesn't think she'll live up to her words if she is under you - and slips out of bed before you can grab her back. Your next long protest is muffled against the mattress because you press your face down.

Wanda giggles half-heartedly as she stands up, reaches for her dress, and tries to adjust her appearance a little. "Thank you for the sex, sweetheart, it was a very pleasant surprise, but I can't let Blonsky lead a communion, he's not good at it. And you have errands, so if you'll excuse me..." Your silence made Wanda, now dressed, look at the bed again. To her surprise, you were sitting on the mattress, hanging something around your neck. 

Your gaze met hers as the disciple chain was secure on your skin. The mischief in your gaze made her swallow. Twirling the symbol between your fingers, you smiled as you asked: "So how does this work? Should I confess my sins so that you can forgive me?"

"God offers forgiveness, not me." Wanda whispers back, brazenly watching you start to unbutton your shirt, the necklace hanging in the valley of your breasts is doing things to her. 

"Hm, since I'm going to be forgiven, maybe I can sin a little more..." Wanda moved on instinct, crawling onto the bed to meet you halfway like a magnet being drawn towards you.

Your foreheads touched, and she sighed against your lips. "I should punish you for this blasphemy." She says, to which you smile naughtily before sticking out your tongue to tease her lips, eliciting a low moan from her.

"Promise?" You challenge, and Wanda gets tired of wasting time.

[eerna]

Omg the way Eloise is written as a feminist character BOTHERS me. I can’t always put my finger on why, but a thing that sticks out to me the most is how she just says the most blatantly basic (for us 21st century viewers) things and idk it’s supposed to seem revolutionary… but it’s never clever. And it is never deep.

Anyways I saw your tag on the Eloise/Cressida post and I was curious to hear any elaboration of your thoughts on her feminist portrayal? (But no pressure!)

YEEAAAH EXACTLY! I have the same issue, Eloise just says 21st century equality stuff without ever having read a single feminist pamphlet (this is canon, she doesn't start reading them or attending discussions until she's 18). Somehow she developed a perfectly uniform idea of modern womanhood when she was isolated and raised to be a traditional lady. Her opinions should be WAY more half baked and full of holes because this life is the only one she'd ever known. That's not even mentioning the inability to discuss feminism without discussing class, something Eloise has No Idea About.

Then comes the issue of writing. This is a stupid show. No one looks smart on this show. So when Eloise drops a "smart comment", it is cringe and dumb. She is supposed to be eloquent and witty, but most of the time she looks like a mean snob belittling everyone around her.

Another issue is that everyone else around her is a horrible sexist caricature. Yes, she is snobby, but my god every other woman only cares about men and marriage and gossip so I can't even blame her all that much for it. Her friends don't really care about what she has to say and will always leave her to go chase a man. And even SHE starts fitting the description the moment she falls for a guy - she lies to her friend and puts everyone in danger, and 90% of the reason is a man with only 10% being her self actualization. You can't write a proper feminist if everyone in your story has the same goal, which is to find a husband. It doesn't help that we know Eloise is headed for marriage and babies because every time a character expresses they don't want one or both of those things, they are proven wrong by the narrative.

And finally, my last thing making Eloise a bad feminist character, is that she is SO PASSIVE. Sure, it might be the point of the show as Pen calls her out for it, but we still don't know if they are gonna fix it so I am putting it here anyway. She only talks and complains about her lot in life, but never acts against society. I was happy when she started sneaking out and hang out with The Working Class Feminists TM, but that turned out to be a short failed romance subplot instead of a character moment and she gave up on it almost right away, so it doesn't count. And now in s3 she decided to embrace society and its expectations, so I am not sure we will ever get to see that kind of rebellion again - I sure hope so! But idk.

As a "well written Eloise" character, I'd like to suggest Felicity Montague. She is a character from a 18th century romcom, a noble lady, aroace and trying to go to med school when her gender prevents her from getting an education. She doesn't use her screentime for long-winded monologues about the unfairness of the world, she ACTS on her thoughts and opinions so we know what they are. She switches covers of romance books and textbooks so she can study without being bothered, she runs away from home to try make her dreams come true, she finds alternative solutions. Her thoughts are never lauded as One Truth, in fact she is often called out for the blind spots in her opinions since she too grew up a sheltered noble and can't account for all experiences. She is surrounded by women who challenge her ideas and make her into a better friend and person. AND she is funny and reading her is just plain fun. You CAN do a feminist who doesn't belong in her era, you just have to be careful to also make her a good character.

[haveyouplayedthisttrpg]

Bonjour! What's the most memorable or fun character you've played in a game? :3

Bonjour! I think the most memorable one is from the F.I.S.T game on the @anim-ttrpgs book club.

Prof Eton (cause he's a mess)

Who can talk to objects. His parents didn't believe him, thought him mad, like his traitorous kettle. he is like a failed professor X meets Mr Sinister, with a focus on cyborgs and object-human mixes. He shall find his people and if not found, create them. And objects are better than humans so a mix of the two should be really nice to have. So why can't his creations see that he is just trying to be a good parent. He shall create a school to educate them. When he has the money…and the place..and the students… We all make do.

His creations don't really like him that much, except from Wheelie. Anyway to give you the idea… how did he receive the message from Fist for the mission ? A phonebooth man entered his room, Prof opened its thorax and picked up the phone. he gave pamphlets to his teammates for his scholl, kept talking about replacing their limbs with "robotics" And then the referee asked the wrong question : what does your wheelchair look like ? And I readily admit to some trollish tendancies, some impertinance, give me some leeway and i will use it to create something beautiful ( as long as the table is ok) Before this question, it was a perfectly ordinary wheelchair ( with hidden weapons inside) but now... It uses wheels, yes, wheels made of feet, robotic feet, legs up to the knee for more mobility, legs spaced like the beams of a regular wheel.

A wondrous invention. Certainly appreciated by his teammates. With robotic arms from the back that envelops the user in a hug to keep one's warm.

Prof called them his guns. He once proposed the sensible idea to replace one's lungs, to resist pollution and gaz, but he needs an air conditionner first. Suddenly the other PC was not so keen on the idea. he gave a name to a robot made to die in a fiery vehicular joyride that served as a distraction.

He was more interested in the mech than the child used to power and control the mech His robotics arms made finger guns...that actually fired bullets like guns. And he tragically died trying to save a mech from his flesh parasite. (Enter second character on the session, Kettle. Can you guess why kettle ? of course it was Eton's traitorous kettle, now a Human-kettleS cyborg, with very few human parts, like hands they're useful

the head is a Kettle, whose lid is just a little open, and in this opening there are two eyes, just the eyes, with the optic nerves descending in the inside of the head kettle

Its entrance was Crash Windows "Eton, you will die by my whouag" slippped. After said Eton death, bad timing. It took 2 feet from the wheelchair to put them on. ) And post credits scene : the wheelchair rising by itself and going into the wild snowy fields of Russia )

[goblinwithartsupplies]

Pjo x dc

Mostly Billy Batson

Hear me out. Captain Marvel/Billy Batson is aware of the Greek gods for obvious reasons.

However he isn’t aware of camp half blood and the fact demigods are still around.

The demigods are very aware of Captain Marvel. Lots of them are jealous of him because he is gets special treatment. A lot of campers think he’s some ancient son of Zeus. Luke castellan wanted to punch him because Captain Marvel had mercury’s blessing.

Captain Marvel/ Billy is basically the gods errand boy. He protects magical places and fixes magic problems. But only when they interact to closely with other pantheons and other magical spheres.

————————————————————————

Billy is a son of Hermes. He doesn't figure out he's a demigod until he comes across Hermes while being captain marvel.

Billy is captain marvel and has to do something with Hermes and they have to be discreet. So Billy powers down. And suddenly Hermes is staring at his 10 year old son.

Hermes: yea we're going to be subtle here. I don't think a 6'4" champion of the gods is going to be very subtle.

Captain Marvel: oh no problem. SHAZAM!

Billy: this subtle enough?

Hermes: BILLY?!?!

Billy: how'd you know my name?

Hermes: I'm not sure how to tell you this kiddo but l'm your father.

Billy a homeless child who has seen weirder at this point: cool can I have some money? I'm sorta homeless.

Hermes pulling out a pamphlet for camp half blood: I have a better idea.

————————————————————————

Hermes actually takes Billy to camp personally. The entire camp had an aneurism when they found out that not only Captain Marvel a demigod he’s also like 12.

The Hermes cabin looks at Billy who has been overworked since he became Captain Marvel and is terrified he’ll turn out like Luke. Connor actually gives Billy Luke’s old bunk.

————————————————————————

The Hecate cabin loves Billy because they get to talk about how annoying Constantine is and how awesome Zatana is.

This love strengthens when Billy finds Alabaster running around and Billy lets Alabaster stay in the cave of wonders. (They miss their brother)

————————————————————————

Percy meets Captain Marvel

Percy: so you have the strength of Hercules? AND the stamina of Atlas?

Captain Marvel: yep! I’ve even met them.

Percy pulling out riptide: so have I. You ever heard of Zöe Nightshade?

Captain marvel: no….

Percy: thought not. So the next time you see Hercules you’re gonna…

————————————————————————

Annabeth: the wisdom of SOLOMON! What’s wrong with the wisdom of Athena?!

Billy: I don’t know he isn’t even Greek or Roman! I’m just as confused! Some of them three of them aren’t even gods! They’re demigods and a titan!

Annabeth: and you’re blessed by Mercury but you’re a son of Hermes!

Billy: I know! He says I’m a walking headache.

————————————————————————

Some villain: HA I’ve depowerd you Captain Marvel! Now that you’ve lost your ability to fly you won’t be able to stop me!

Billy: yeah about that. Maia! *winged sneakers start to fly*

Some villain: oh come on!

————————————————————————

the justice league is oddly connected to the gods

Lois Lane is a Daughter of Apollo. Superman gets his powers from the sun think about it.

Oliver Queen and Roy Harper while not demigods are favored by Apollo. Apollo gave them the gift of clear sight. Apollo has flirted with both of them and Lois hates it.

Batfam are demigods mostly of various minor gods. The mist around Gotham is really weak. Most Gotham demigods never go to camp because Gotham has its own system for demigods. Gotham demigods are aware of ALL the pantheons.

Bruce is a Roman legacy of Nox (Nyx) and Pavor (Phobos). Self explanatory. He only served a few years in camp Jupiter saying that he had a mortal life to deal with aka Batman stuff.

Alfred has a small altar dedicated to Hestia/Vesta both in the kitchen and by a fireplace in the batcave

Steph is such a Hermes kid. Cluemaster is her step father but she didn’t know that until she was claimed. She is a distant legacy of Apollo through her mother.

Dick is a son of Hebe. He never looks over 23. His parents are still his parents it’s more of a 3 parents situation.

Jason is a son of Nemesis and a legacy of the Celtic god Ogma (knowledge god) I also like the idea of him being a son of Hermes. Imagine Hermes picking up Jason’s soul when he died.

Tim is a distant legacy of Athena and a son of Nike.

Harley Quinn is a defendant of Dionysus specifically of his god of madness form.

[the-grey-hunt]

i have covid and must sit in my room all day. it's ghost trick posting hours and i am thinking about a gt major arcana set

These are purely based on my vibes from experience and the little pamphlet that came with my Rider-Waite-Smith deck, so feel free to argue with me, i could really use a conversation to get invested in rn

0 - THE FOOL. Obviously this one is going to be Sissel. The Fool represents setting out on a journey that's gonna take you through the rest of the cards, and it's the zero point, the beginning of the deck (sometimes the end, which is how my pamphlet organizes it). I'd draw him in the junkyard, maybe as the ghost flame.

I - THE MAGICIAN. This one gave me the most trouble. I eventually settled on Pigeon Man, partly because I couldn't figure out a 'scene' i liked for this more than a person. He fits the bill of a man hiding some secrets, but one who's a sort of 'magus' (pamphlet's word) or knowledgeable figure. No idea how i'd draw it.

II - THE HIGH PRIESTESS. I picked the park guardian/Dabira. HEAR ME OUT. The description I have says "tenacity", or if reversed, "passion" and "surface knowledge" (hate to say it but Dabira does not know the lore). Normally this would be a woman, but I ran out of female characters before assigning this one. This drawing would highlight the stars in his eyes.

III - THE EMPRESS & IV - THE EMPEROR. Alma and Jowd, respectively. The Empress is "the unknown, doubt" or reversed, "truth, the unraveling...of matters". More her role in the story than her actual personality, but the game devs didn't give her one, so. The emperor represents "conviction" (lol) and "protection", but also reversed can mean "confusion", "obstruction".

I'd draw Alma in a fake foil-card, where it looks like it's being tilted so some of her is visible through the "foil" but the "reflective" parts are her blacked-out flashback silhouette. Jowd would be at the foot of a ruined throne.

V - THE HIEROPHANT. This one's Kamila. "Captivity" is one of the potential meanings, but reversed it can also be "weakness", which I don't mean as an insult, but she's a little girl who gets physically overpowered. It would be Kamila on a thronelike seat in the red trunk, the hierophant's tools (maybe pieces from the contraption) on the floor before her.

VI - THE LOVERS. Yomiel and FianSissel. "Love" and "trials overcome", but reversed "failure" or "foolish designs". I think they as a pair represent the potential meanings pretty well; there's definitely love, but their love leads them to foolish plans down doomed paths. Drawn as each other's reverse, like a face card in a deck of playing cards.

VII - THE CHARIOT. "Triumph", but reversed, "defeat". I'd draw this as squished Jeego rolling away with the wrecking ball—both a triumph and a defeat!

VIII - STRENGTH. Lynne! "energy" and "action" both describe her. The reversed meanings don't really fit, so I'm ignoring them lol. I'd draw her in her determined pose, maybe from in the Yonoa with the pocket watch.

IX - THE HERMIT. Ray! "Prudence" (the other meanings I'm given don't fit as well), but reversed, "concealment", "disguise". I'm drawing that boy wigglin'.

X - WHEEL OF FORTUNE. "Destiny", "luck". No character fits this as well as the clock from the 'rewind time' cutscene.

XI -JUSTICE. Literally just gonna be the Justice Minister, in one of his slumped-on-the-desk poses. "Executive", but reversed, "law in all departments", "excessive severity".

XII - THE HANGED MAN. This one is Cabanela, and you know he's going in the hanged man pose. "Trials", "intuition" "discernment"— reversed, "selfishness", so the regular and reversed readings are the truth v. how he's percieved.

XIII - DEATH: I think this should be a drawing of a detective's pistol. There's the possibility of getting more metaphorical with this card, but here, I don't think you need to.

XIV - TEMPERANCE. I put Rindge for this one because i wanted to include all the people who get their lives saved by Sissel, and I do think it fits. "accomodation" (of lynne); reversed, "competing interests" (his assignment v. helping lynne). I'd draw him seated at the table in the restaurant.

XV - THE DEVIL. This isn't as much a person (I mean, it's Sith), but I want this card to show as its centerpiece the little grabby thing that takes Yomiel's Temsik fragment out. Both Yomiel and Sith would be visible, to either side, but the meaning of "violence" or, reversed, "fatality", "pettiness", seems best suited by this specific scene.

XVI - THE TOWER. It's already been done perfectly and is tbh the reason I'm making this post

XVII - THE STAR. What else? The Temsik meteorite. Carries a meaning of "loss", but alternately (not reversed, but alternately) "hope", "bright prospects for the future". Two very different scenes in that park...I'd draw it in the crater, where it could be showing either future.

XVIII - THE MOON. Beauty and Dandy for this one, idk how i'd draw them. "Hidden enemies", "danger", "deception", "error".

XIX - THE SUN. Missile! Means "material happiness", "contentment", even when reversed. It's what he is and what he brings to people around him! I'm giving that boy a halo effect.

XX - THE LAST JUDGEMENT. A scene of "the last desperate struggle" (to borrow the soundtrack title) in Temsik Park, the last moment of gameplay in the game. Could be either the fountain with the meteor coming down, or missile in the bullet right before it's swapped. could be a lot of moments!

XXI - THE WORLD. I would do a cool thing with the phone lines and traveling through them for this one. luckily no one can make me draw it, so you're just gonna have to picture the coolness yourself

[transingthoseformers]

Weird rescue bots tidbit

Heatwave mentions Starscream once. But, they hadn't known Cybertron had been destroyed and I believe it's assumed that the rescuebots had been froze before the war. To me this has two possible meanings:

Option A, where the war actually was going but in the early enough stages where the bots would either not know it was going on at all, or thought of it as some far off distant thing like people do with irl wars.

Option B that's the least likely, Heatwave directly knew Starscream ir was vaguely aware of his existence

Option C, Optimus gave them a slightly more detailed explanation off screen or a catching up pamphlet, which would mean the rescuebots have a vague idea what's going on war wise or at least some of the players in the game

Option D: Starscream was famous.

[desertdollranch]

Opening my first Bonnie & Pearl doll

I'm back with yet another obscure, rare, or defunct doll brand I never thought I'd own!

Bonnie & Pearl will probably be unfamiliar to most of you. They were based in the UK, producing a line of seven beautiful and high-quality 19 inch dolls and clothing.

They had wigged hair, blinking eyes, and had a variety of hair and skin colors. After they went out of business, I knew that finding any of these dolls secondhand in the States would not be easy. So I put them out of my mind and moved on.

What made me remember and reconsider them was the fact that I've been extremely lucky lately to find all sorts of dolls that were on my wish list but I never thought I'd actually find my own. Encouraged by my success, I searched again for a Bonnie & Pearl, and struck gold by finding two of them from American sellers. One was in original form, and the other was someone's unfinished project doll. I bought them both, so that I could decide which one I preferred and resell the one I didn't.

The one that I chose to keep was in almost new condition and came with her original box, clothes, and extras.

The box is beautiful and sturdy. Bonnie & Pearl's commitment to reducing packaging gave them the unique idea to make a box that could be turned into a bed for the doll.

Keep reading to see what's inside........

...........

The bed is decorated with pictures to be colored in.

More box details. It's interesting that I'm being prompted to give her a name when there's already a name on the front of the box?

Here's the doll's pink purse and hairbow. And a doll bed is incomplete without a pillow, so that's included as well.

There's a little pamphlet talking about how to care for your doll's hair and body, and additional outfits available for purchase.

The seller included the doll's original sleep eyes, which she replaced with stationary glass eyes. She included some extra 16 mm eyes for smaller dolls (they won't fit this doll). These were a nice freebie surprise, since I have a Hearts for Hearts doll who needs an eye replacement! The rest will be put into my doll parts stash.

All Bonnie & Pearl dolls come dressed in this beautiful ensemble: a floral skirt, a white shirt with pink buttons on the placket, white underwear, and matching shoes. The skirt has an attached tulle crinoline.

Now let's get to the good stuff.

Here she is! Her original name is Charlotte. I very often keep my dolls' original names and ethnic origin in tribute to their heritage, but I already have an English modern character. This girl will get a new name and backstory.

I can tell right away she's lovingly and beautifully made. She feels very sturdy, and her vinyl skin has a lovely matte finish that looks very much like porcelain. Her wig is fabulous, so soft and just the right thickness. The only thing not original about her are her glass eyes, but I actually prefer them to the blinking eyes. These look more realistic and give her a more childlike appearance.

I adore her. 10 out of 10. She is perfection from head to toe. I wish

Now let's do some comparisons.

She has a vinyl breastplate and soft tummy. She's a bit taller than an American Girl doll, but her proportions are very similar.

They can share clothes easily, with the biggest difference being that B&P's shoulders are a little less broad than AG's.

Shoes are a bit more different. B&P's feet are more meaty at the top, even though their length and width are almost identical. So she would do better wearing American Girl brand sandals rather than closed-toe shoes. AG can wear B&P's shoes easily.

Her anatomy is much like a Karito Kids doll, but B&P is a few inches shorter.

Since she was a project doll, her wig wasn't glued down, and the seller included the piece of her scalp that was cut open in order to change the eyes.

I superglued it back into place, and then put the wig back on.

I also glued on some soft brown eyelashes. I did try darker eyelashes on her first, but they were a bit too intense, and so I prefer the more subtle look of the lighter brown lashes.

And a bonus picture of her wearing an American Girl brand dress and posing with Nareen, my My Imagination doll. I get the vibe that they'll be good friends.

I'll reveal her name and show more pictures in an upcoming post! I won't be showing the other B&P doll I bought since I won't be keeping her after I fix her flaws.

[starsstuddedsky]

Chapter 6 - The Unstoppable Force

reader x jihoon

Chapter 5 | masterlist | Chapter 7

summary: when you're caught in a simple lie, the best solution? dig in and stick to your guns until everything inevitably goes wrong and everyone gets hurt

or, a serial dater and a pessimist fake a relationship in the vain hope that nothing will go wrong

genre: fluff, angst, non-idol au, lawyer au, coworkers to lovers??? friends to lovers???? fake dating!!!!!

warnings: mentions of food, suggestive jokes, lmk if i missed any!

wc: 4.8k

a/n: MY FAVORITE CHAPTER!!!! technically i don't have a favorite but i wrote half of this in the spur of the moment way before it happened plot wise.. also... sorry but no double chapter </3

taglist: open! send an ask or comment!

Jihoon’s knee pops as soon as he stands up. It’s been doing that lately, especially when he’s been sitting for a while, like the three hour flight and hour and a half drive to the conference today. Maybe he should get it checked out. 

He grabs his suitcase from the back of the car, thanking the driver and heading into the hotel. He has no idea why the conference is in the middle of nowhere. He doesn’t know how the organizers missed the irony of how much gas was used to get here, but apparently the ambience of the woods and ���refreshing nature’ are vital. 

Logic says the first thing to do when he walks in is to check in and find his room, but unfortunately you betray logic. The second he sets foot in the lobby, you appear at his side, wrapping your arms around him in a hug. 

“Wonwoo is here,” you whisper, though he’s already wrapping his arms around you. It’s only been a day (36 hours, but who’s counting?) since he’s seen you, but being with you now feels sort of like when he lost his favorite set of headphones. He could live without them, but when he found them he felt complete again. 

“How was the first day?” He asks, squeezing you one more time before letting go. Like always, your hand finds his. 

You shrug. “Same as always. McCormick gave the opening speech this year, though, so it was at least entertaining.” You laugh at the face he makes (another thing he missed about you). 

“Please don’t tell me people actually applauded that man,” he says. “I don’t understand why he still comes. They’ve had, like, three oil spills this year alone that he argued were ‘natural’ accidents.” 

“Plus he had the cheating thing,” you say. 

“Cheating?” 

“Please tell me we are gossiping,” Wonwoo says, appearing with a paper cup that probably is filled with watery coffee. 

“Why are you here?” Jihoon asks. 

“You didn’t miss me?” Wonwoo holds a hand over his heart, pretending to be shocked. “I’m hurt. In pain. I haven’t seen you for two weeks, that’s fourteen days! Can’t you at least say ‘how are you?’” 

“How are you?” Jihoon asks, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. “Why are you here?” 

“I’m passionate about environmental justice!” He says. “I care about—” He frowns at the pamphlet. “Arguments for the continued protection of the endangered solenodon?” 

“Dude, that was a panel yesterday. You sat next to me,” you say. 

“The guy had a really monotone voice, I was working on a case in my head.” 

“That was the translator! The presenter was speaking in Spanish!” 

Wonwoo shrugs. 

It’s strange how well you fit into his world. Jihoon rolls his eyes and laughs at the right moments, watching you and Wonwoo and wondering for the first time what it will be like when this mess is over. Will you stick around, joking with Wonwoo and reminding Jihoon that he does like to be around his friends? Or will you slip away again, back to the outskirts of his life, always there but never by his side. 

You squeeze his hand. “You okay?” You ask softly. 

“Fine,” Jihoon says, shaking off the strange sadness that came over him. “Just a little tired. I need to check in and probably eat something before the seminar on the history of legal discourse surrounding Darwin’s work or whatever.” 

“Why do we come to these?” You ask with a sigh. 

“We care about the future,” Jihoon says, “for some reason.” 

“I’ll order the food!” Wonwoo says, either blissfully unaware of the depressing turn of the conversation or purposefully ignoring it. 

.

.

Jihoon frowns at how violently bright the container is. The lies from that night were never supposed to catch up with him. It’s been so long that he almost forgot he told all of his friends you like spicy food. 

From the way you’re eyeing the takeout container, he’s more than a little scared he was very wrong. Wonwoo puts the rest of the takeout on the table, sliding it to the middle, the dangerously bright container right in front of you. 

“Jihoon, I got your favorite!” Wonwoo says. He opens the box of white rice, setting it in front of him. 

“Isn’t that joke getting old?” Jihoon says, rolling his eyes. He pretends not to hear your attempts at hiding a giggle with a cough. 

“Nope!” Wonwoo says. “Did he tell you about the time went to this super expensive buffet and everyone was talking about how good the food was and the only thing he mentioned was how good the rice was?” 

“No!” You say. 

“I did not say that!” Jihoon says. “I was just talking about how well cooked it was and good portions. I said the pork was really good too.” 

“Not to me,” Wonwoo says, opening the first container, revealing pieces of chicken that thankfully do not look like they came from hell. “Anyways, I thought we should celebrate the fact that we are finally having lunch together, despite the two of you dating for two months now and pretending like you don’t know each other at work even though literally everyone knows” 

“He’s petty,” you fake-whisper. 

“Much like all of my friends, he thinks he’s entitled to my entire life,” Jihoon fake-whispers back. 

“It’s called caring about you, actually,” Wonwoo says. “Which reminds me, when are you going to stop being petty and apologize to Seungcheol?” 

“I’m the petty one?” Jihoon scoffs. 

“Okay, fine, when are you going to be the bigger person and apologize?” 

Jihoon takes a deep breath, staring at the takeout containers. “Look, I get it, you care about us and don’t want us to fight. But you weren’t there. Please, just drop it.” 

Wonwoo is quiet for a long moment, studying Jihoon. He doesn’t know how much Seungcheol told the rest of their friends (Jihoon said nothing), but it’s clear they all know something went down. 

It’s been two weeks of this standoff that Jihoon doesn’t feel particularly interested in ending, though everyone is still walking on eggshells in the group chats. Seungkwan has called him three times “just to check in.” But Wonwoo is the first of any of them to ask him about it outright. 

Well, if he expects Jihoon to apologize first, he’s sorely mistaken. He’s done nothing wrong. At least, not that they know of. 

“What is that?” Jihoon asks after it seems like Wonwoo has finally accepted it. He points to the damning container. 

Wonwoo grins. “I’m glad you asked! I know yn loves spicy food, so when I ordered, I made sure to get the hottest option on the menu. The owner even checked to see if we could handle it, but I told him it’s nothing to you.” 

You laugh nervously, glancing at Jihoon. “Well, I had a big breakfast, so I don’t think I’ll be eating too much.” 

“You had the crappy conference breakfast and spent the entire time complaining about how none of the food was good,” Wonwoo says, dumping rice into a bowl that Jihoon is pretty sure he recognizes from Wonwoo’s apartment. “Which is why I made sure to get something you love.” He winks at Jihoon. 

You’re panicking now, and Jihoon is sure that this is all a mistake. Wonwoo opens the chicken container and the pieces look like actual lava, unnaturally bright red. Why didn’t he just say you don’t like spicy food? It’s so much safer, and he wouldn’t be responsible for sending you to the hospital, which he thinks is a very likely consequence of eating this chicken. 

“I’ll try a piece,” he says, reaching out for the container. Maybe if he eats enough you won’t die. At the very least, he might have a hospital bed adjacent to yours. 

“Dude, manners!” Wonwoo says, smacking your hand. “That’s not for you.” 

Jihoon doesn’t know how Wonwoo doesn’t see the fear in your eyes as you pick up the container. Your face turns red before you even taste the meat. He can’t do this. He can’t watch you suffer because of his own lie. 

Jihoon stands, sliding his hand across the table and ‘accidentally’ knocking the container right out of your hands and onto the floor of Wonwoo’s hotel room. 

“Hey!” You shout, at the same time as Wonwoo. 

“Sorry!” He says quickly. “I was going to get some napkins!” 

“That was all the spicy chicken,” you say, casting a forlorn look at the bright pieces of meat cast on the floor. Thankfully, most of it spilled out and the container landed upside down. Jihoon is pretty sure you tossed it more than he hit it, but regardless the damage is done. 

He meets your eyes. You are desperately trying to look betrayed, but you can’t hide the gratitude in your gaze, the corners of your lips fighting to stay turned down into a frown. He has to stop himself from smiling back. 

“Napkins,” Wonwoo says, smacking him in the chest with the pieces of paper wrapped in plastic, breaking the spell between the two of you. “You do realize they were in front of you, right?” 

“Oh,” Jihoon says. He moves more carefully, taking the napkins and kneeling on the floor. “Didn’t see them.” 

It’s obvious what he did. Jihoon knows there’s no way that Wonwoo didn’t notice him doing it on purpose, and he doubts he missed the panic in your eyes, despite how good you are at hiding it. All he can do is clean up the chicken and pray that Wonwoo finds a reason why that isn’t ‘oh my god, they’re faking it.’ 

“That’s going to stain,” you say. He doesn’t have to look to know you’re sporting a smile. He hears a chair slide, and then you’re kneeling beside him. 

“I'll get as much out as I can and I’ll pay Wonwoo back,” he says. His eyes are burning just from cleaning the stuff up; he wonders if it was actually edible. 

You lean closer to him, shoulders pressing together, mouth hovering just over his ear. Your breath sends shivers down his spine. You speak so quietly he thinks he might have imagined it, and then you’re gone, standing up and sitting back at the table. 

“Thank you.” 

.

.

Jihoon takes a deep breath before knocking on your door. He’d waste more time, but the ice cream will melt if he stalls too long, so he just sucks it up and knocks. Waiting for you to answer is worse. What if you aren’t in? What if you’re running around with one of millions of people you seem to know at these events? What if you see it’s him and decide not to answer? You have every right to be mad at him. 

Just when he’s about to turn away, you open the door, hair damp, dressed in a holiday themed pajama set that is covered in snowflakes even though it’s October. Your skin is still a little red, as if you only just got out of the shower. 

Jihoon holds up the bag. “An attempt at an apology,” he says. You take it from him, fingers brushing against his. 

“Anything chocolate flavored is immediate forgiveness,” you say, stepping aside to let him in. “But I don’t think there’s anything to forgive.” 

Jihoon lets the door swing shut behind him. Your hotel room, putting things kindly, is a mess. There’s papers strewn about, clothes tossed around your suitcase, and the bed isn’t made. Minus the papers everywhere, it looks a lot like Jihoon’s room. 

“I genuinely think that stuff would have killed you,” he says. “Besides, I’ve already bought it, you might as well eat it.” 

“We can eat it,” you say, setting the bag on a small corner of the desk that isn’t covered in papers. “If I can find spoons.” 

Jihoon thought he hid his sigh, but you pause from rifling through the limited kitchen supplies on the countertop to glance at him. “Don’t tell me you don’t like ice cream.” 

“It’s not that,” Jihoon says. “It’s just not my cheat day.” 

“Oh my god, you’re not joking,” you say. “You seriously won’t eat it?” 

Jihoon shrugs. 

“Actually it makes sense, no one looks like you and eats chocolate every day,” you say. 

“What are you talking about?” 

You gesture to him, waving your finger up and down. “You know. All those muscles. They don’t come out of nowhere.” You don’t seem to notice his ears turning red, grabbing a stirring stick to use as a spoon. 

“You’re going to make me eat all alone,” you say. “I think that’s even more sad than drinking alone.” 

“I think you’re being dramatic,” Jihoon says. 

“C’mon.” You scoop a tiny piece, holding it up to him. “You really won’t even try a little bit?” 

He studies the brown mush on the stick. Just a small bit won’t mess up his strict regimen, and more importantly, he doesn’t think he can resist the way you’re looking up at him, eyes wide and lower lip jutting out just a tiny bit. He can’t even allow himself to regret it because when he steps forward and opens his mouth, you grin. 

“It’s good, right?” You ask, even as the stick is still in his mouth. He nods anyway. It is good; thick and creamy, sweet but not too sweet. Solid chocolate ice cream. 

“Well, I can now eat guilt free, so thank you,” you say. “It’s not eating alone when you’ve had some too.” 

“It was less than a teaspoon.” 

“Details,” you say, waving the stick. You pat the bed next to you. “As long as you’re here sitting with me, it’s not eating alone.” 

He should go back to his own room, catch up on the work he fell behind on, watch a couple episodes of Demon Slayer, or call Seungkwan back. He sits beside you. 

“Well, I have no idea how to bring this up, so I’m just going to say it,” you say. You take another heaping scoop, your words clearly mushed by your numb tongue. “I think we should probably break up.” 

Jihoon is glad he’s sitting; even with a mattress behind him, he nearly falls on his ass. “What?” 

“Well,” you say, “my friends probably won't keep believing that my boyfriend is too busy to show up at every event, and the whole thing with Seungcheol… I don’t want to cause problems between your friends, fake or not. The whole point of this was to get them off your back, and now you’re not talking to half of them.” 

“That’s not your fault!” Jihoon says. “This stupid fight was a long time coming, you were just… the catalyst.” 

“I still don’t like it,” you say, pouting with your lips. 

“Seungcheol has this whole thing where he thinks because he had a rough childhood he has to look out for everyone, which usually means that he thinks he knows best. Always.” Jihoon turns to you, waiting until you raise your eyes to meet him. “It’s not your fault,” he repeats. “I promise.” 

“It still doesn’t mean we shouldn’t fake break up,” you mumble. 

“All that will do is prove to Seungcheol that he was right,” Jihoon says with a sigh. He leans against the bed, resting his arms behind him. “But if you don’t want to keep this up, I can’t exactly date someone on my own. Fake or otherwise, that’s just basic manners.” Jihoon is a little proud of himself when you smile. “And it’s in the contract: if your friends need convincing, I’ll be there.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah,” Jihoon says. “You’ve done more than your part.” 

You set the ice cream down on the bedside table. “Well, there’s a Halloween party next week that my friends will be very drunk at, so if you slip up they probably won’t notice.” 

“I’ll be there.” Jihoon is amazed at how surprised you look. Has he been that terrible of a (fake) boyfriend to make you think he won’t go with you to something as simple as a party? Then again, the last party he went to with you didn’t end well. 

The silence is starting to make Jihoon feel uncomfortable, so he browses through the papers on your floor. Most of them are files from the conference, debating possible legal courses against various companies and a couple petitions. 

“Hey, did you get that email from Johnny on updating the security access for our personal laptops?” You ask. 

“No?” 

“He sent it a couple hours ago, something about two factor authentication not being enough, it looked like bullshit but there’s forms that we need to fill out,” you say. 

“Great,” Jihoon says. 

You glance at the clock. “Yeah, especially since they were supposed to be turned in five minutes ago.” 

“What?” Jihoon jumps up. 

“It’s dumb,” you say. “There’s no way you’re the only one that didn’t get it in.” 

He checks his phone and, sure enough, there’s an email on his work account detailing the security measures. “Wait, this is so dumb, I can’t access my laptop without the clearance. How am I supposed to fill out the forms?” 

“No way,” you say. He hands you the phone and you laugh. “This is ridiculous.” 

“I guess I’m not working tonight,” Jihoon says, laying fully on the bed. “Damn, I was supposed to finish a draft and send it to Kun.” He wonders if he can finish it on his phone, but the last time he tried that the formatting got messed up. Kun will never let him hear the end of it if he sends it in late, though it’s Jihoon’s own fault for being a stickler for deadlines. He figures he’ll have about two months worth of teasing, depending on how strict he’s been lately. Oh he’s screwed. 

“Is the file on your computer or on the shared drive?” 

“There’s a fairly recent draft on the drive,” Jihoon says. “But I can’t even log into my laptop.” 

“Just use mine,” you say. “You can sign into your account and do it from there. It would work, right?” 

“I think so,” Jihoon says. “But is that really okay?” 

“Yeah, it’s not like I was doing anything important. You can see if you can fill out the forms and get access to your own laptop, maybe.” 

“You don’t need to use it?” 

“God no, I was watching Law and Order and sorting these papers,” you say. 

“Seriously? A prosecutor show?” Jihoon sighs. “At least say it was SVU.” 

“Obviously, I have taste,” you say. “Some taste,” you amend when Jihoon raises his eyebrows. 

“Seriously, just use the laptop, I’m going to be going through this mess anyways,” you say. You stand up, sticking the ice cream in the mini fridge where it will undoubtedly melt, and carefully crossing through the papers to your laptop. Jihoon follows, leaning on one arm at your side while you sign out. 

“All yours,” you say, stepping back so that he can sit in the chair. 

“Thank you,” Jihoon says. 

You grin. “Only the best for my boyfriend.” 

He rolls his eyes, settling into the chair. Thankfully the draft he uploaded isn’t that old and he remembers the changes he made. His notes are on his own laptop, but he remembers enough to finish the draft. It doesn’t take him nearly as long as he thought, and after half an hour, the draft is sent. 

He turns to tell you the good news, but you’re engrossed in a paper, laying flat on your stomach in the middle of the papers, eyes moving quickly. He realizes you blink a little more rapidly when you're this focused, and sometimes mouth along to the words on the paper. It’s kind of adorable how intense you are. He decides can’t disturb it, so he turns back to your laptop, pulling up the forms and starting the arduous process of filling them out. Whoever made these due at 10 pm on a Saturday just topped his list of enemies. He’s planning his revenge in his head as he types in his employee ID number for the fifth time on the third form. 

Halfway through completing them, he gets a new email with the subject line: Urgent!!!!! He curses when he opens it. 

“What’s wrong?” You ask. 

Jihoon feels a pang of guilt at realizing he distracted you. “I’m not sure but there’s some emergency that apparently only I can fix.” 

“Really?”

“No, but I think they’re too used to me being available all the time and assume that I’ll just do it.” He sighs. Usually he’s already working, but for some reason he’d rather be doing something else, though he isn’t sure what. 

“How bad would it be if you didn’t do it?” 

“It’ll probably get fixed,” Jihoon says. “But who knows what mistakes will be made, and they’ll scramble if I say I can’t do it.” 

“Can you?” 

He turns to face you, still in the middle of your papers but watching him intently. “If you can survive without another episode of cop propaganda.” 

“Oh my god, it’s a good show,” you say. “And I was serious when I said you can use it for everything you need. Unless you don’t want to do it, then by all means, turn on SVU.” 

“As tempting as that sounds, I might as well just do it,” he turns back around, sighing as he reads the email more carefully and types a quick response. 

“Let me know if you need anything else,” you say. “I’ll be right here.” 

.

.

Jihoon finally stops when his eyes begin to blur. A quick glance at the clock in the top corner of his laptop says that it’s 3am. Damn, he was sure it was earlier than that. Jihoon stretches, chair rolling back on the carpet. His right knee pops when he stands, but feels looser after he shakes it out. 

He’s long since blocked out any sounds as white noise, but he wonders now if that’s actually because you haven’t been making noise, because when he turns around, he finds you with your face pressed into your elbow, breathing softly. Jihoon can’t help but smile. 

Your position, curled in the middle of a mess of papers, doesn’t look very comfortable. He has no idea how long you’ve been asleep, but you look cold, your knees pulled into your chest, arm pressed tightly into your side. Maybe this is how you normally sleep; it’s not as if Jihoon would know. 

Either way, he decides the floor can’t be comfortable. He starts with clearing his throat. When you don’t react, he says your name, quietly at first, then as loud as he dares this late at night. Still nothing. He’s going to have to get creative. 

Jihoon snaps your laptop closed. Claps a little too loud, cringing at the echo in the small room. Kneels at your side and pokes your shoulder, and then your cheek. He even rolls you onto your back, but all this does is make you snore. 

Jihoon stays by your side and listens to your snoring. It’s not a very flattering sound, though it isn’t nearly as loud as others he’s had the misfortune of hearing (read: Mingyu and Seungcheol). Jihoon likes seeing this part of you, the real you, that sometimes you don’t let show because you’re so aware of other people. He wonders if he deserves to see this side of you, if he ever will. Probably not. 

He slides one arm underneath your knees and the other beneath your neck, cradling your head against his chest. It’s a little awkward to do so when you're fast asleep, but he manages to get you into his arms, and then plants his feet beneath him, pushing his heels into the carpet to lift you off the ground. Apparently the ridiculous* (*your words) amounts of time he spends at the gym does give him some real world benefits. That lift feels like a perfect squat to him. 

He carries you to the bed, which thankfully is only a few feet away (any longer and he knows carrying a load unbalanced like this will give him back issues). It’s rather difficult to pull the covers off before placing you down, and Jihoon has to rest your legs on his knee and cradle you against his chest before gently placing you on the mattress. 

He’s half expecting you to be looking at him with raised eyebrows and a smirk when he sets you down, but you’re still sound asleep (Fact #14: you could sleep through any natural disaster). He pulls the blankets over you and you immediately turn onto your side, twisting the blanket around you. He waits for you to open your eyes, but your breathing remains slow and even. It’s almost impressive. 

He stands beside you for one more second (making sure you really are asleep) before forcing himself to turn away. He needs to go back to his room and get some sleep before the morning’s flight, but when he tries to cross the room to get his laptop, he sees your files still spread haphazardly across the floor. He could leave it to you to organize, but you’re already sleeping so soundly, he might as well clean up. 

He’s surprised to find that the documents aren’t nearly as messy as he thought. As he collects them, he quickly figures out a pattern to how you laid them out, and organizes them accordingly (hopefully). He tries not to think about how similar it is to his own system. It must be because you had Professor Lee, he decides. 

He does a last sweep of the room, hoping everything is in its rightful place. He’s half tempted to set an alarm on your phone but you’re more likely to be up in time for the flight than he is, so he just fills a cup of water and leaves it on your bedside table in case you wake up thirsty. He turns the lights off one by one as he leaves, opening the door as gently as possible. 

Jihoon closes the door slowly, pushing on the handle to keep it from swinging shut. He slowly lets the lock click into place, before finally letting go and taking a deep breath. 

“Saying goodnight?” 

He whips around to find Wonwoo leaning against the doorframe to his own room, which is, of course, directly across from yours. 

“Or is it good morning?” Wonwoo continues. “I mean, it is 3 in the morning.” 

“Shut up,” Jihoon mutters. “What are you doing awake anyways?” 

“Hungry,” he says. “I was about to hit the hotel snack bar, if you want to join.” 

“Not really.” 

“Are you sure you didn’t work up an appetite?” Wonwoo can’t hide his smile. “Or are you that tired?” 

Jihoon has been told repeatedly that his glare scared small children, but unfortunately Wonwoo is not a small child. He’s a tall child with the sense of humor of a twelve year old. 

“Are you sure yn doesn’t want anything?” Wonwoo crosses, letting his own door shut. He raises his hand as if to knock, but Jihoon catches his wrist. 

“They’re sleeping.” 

Wonwoo raises an eyebrow. “I guess all that gym time really paid off. You must have incredible stamina.” 

Jihoon opens his mouth to tell Wonwoo how incredibly wrong he is, starting with the fact that his gym time is more focused on strength than anything else, but he realizes this is (more or less) exactly what he wants. Undeniable proof that he and you are together in every sense of the word. 

Except something doesn’t quite feel right about it. A lot of the details of your fake relationship have been vague, mostly dealt with on the few occasions that you actually had to accompany him with his friends (which thankfully have only been the two parties). But neither of you have discussed your sex lives, particularly in relation to each other (because it is nonexistent). He knows it’s basic human decency, but he won’t let Wonwoo believe anything happened when it didn’t, at least not without trying to convince him otherwise. 

“It may amaze you, but sometimes adults do other things,” Jihoon says. 

“Other than what?” Wonwoo pretends to be a little too innocent. “I never said a thing.” 

“Sure,” Jihoon says, beginning to feel how late it is. “Enjoy your snacks, or whatever, I’m going to bed.” He walks down the hall toward his own room, ignoring Wonwoo’s final taunt. 

“Get some good rest, you deserve it!”

[takami-takami]

Okay this is long but RANT ABOUT MY JOAB.

The more people I talk to about the situation, the more I realize that my supervisor just did not care to teach me.

She told me to "run a workshop" (i have literally no idea what they looked like) and gave me no oppurtunity to shadow someone, so when the one I came up with from my own brain flubbed, i didnt know what to do. Because I am not a fucking social worker yet! I have no idea what the fuck a workshop is!!!

What do you MEAN that's my fault, that's not my fault! I came up with one out of my ass because I repeatedly requested and asked for you to please please please clarify what you mean and give me an example and you refused and told me to just do it. You gave me "old example slides" that show nothing but bullet points that the person was using as a visual guide; I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT TO DO WITH THIS.

So when it came time to do it in a mock workshop with you and the social worker on site, and I had anxiety and cried, how was I blamed for that? You were scrolling on your phone the whole time anyway! Tf was I supposed to do?! YOU NEVER TRAINED ME AND TOLD ME TO MAKE SOMETHING UP!!!!

But honestly. It sucks sooooo bad. I talked to multiple people about this and they said they would cry too like ?????

I ASKED to shadow someone. You said you would let me shadow someone first, then forgot, and said "that's not happening"

I even tried explaining. "I have my slides and activity ready to go, but I do NOT know what kind of behaviors to do when running a workshop. I have never seen one before, so I do not know what behaviors to do or how to act." And she looked at me like i was stupid.

BITCH THIS IS YOUR JOB!!! YOU ARE OFFICIALLY CLASSIFIED AS MY "INSTRUCTOR".

And during supervision, I had to repeatedly say, "listen, the supervision form says I need to discuss this with you" and she would shoo me away. Until i read the actual questions one by one saying, "Discuss with your supervisor xyz" so she would know i could not answer it on my own bc who else am i supposed to discuss with?!

She made me work the front desk and make coffee. HOW DOES THAT HELP ME WITH SOCIAL WORK

For god's sake, she told me to come up with resources for their page during one of the times I expressed that we should probably address clients needs in a more substantive way and she said "use the internet" when I asked how exactly I was supposed to locate these services

She told me multiple people have complained to her about the personalities at the annex like YOU THINK!?

It's like. Your mission says you do all these things for clients but the rooms are literally completely silent here. The only reason clients come is to sit in the lounge and drink free coffee and do their homework. That is literally all.

And she would just be on her fucking phone like wheeeeere is the service? Are you taking this seriously at all? Because you're supposed to be a fucking social worker.

Their "connecetion to resources" is just pamphlets on the front desk and links on their canvas page that you need an INVITE to get access to. And it only has the fucking state 2-1-1 information. Remote and travelling students have complained MULTIPLE TIMES how unsupported they are by the university, that's a need there. ADDRESS IT.

Like. Does anyone even KNOW about these "peer consult" services? Like genuinely, do they, because the sample learning contract you gave me from a previous student barely mentioned peer consultation at all. And peer consult isn't social work either. Social work is a fucking academic profession, not a volunteer program.

Like genuinely what the FUCK do you do to reach disenfranchised populations? WHERE IS THE SOCIAL SERVICES? Like you're combatting food insecurity for the ten fucking people who drop in a day by giving free snacks and lunches i GUESS. But like genuinely what the fuck else?

It's lazy. It's stupid. NO ONE is going to actually bring up criticisms to you in your stupid fucking check in form because they came here to study and don't have time for that. It's YOUR job to conduct focus groups or needs assessments or DEDICATED SURVEYS with the clients.

And the fact that she had the AUDACITY to ask me if I would be comfortable "walking up to people and asking if they need help" when I mentioned micro work. Yeah, okay, let me walk up to Bill and he'll tell me "yes actually I need help with finding housing assistence given my current landlord is upping the price of rent and I cannot afford it with my new expenses of adopting a dog. Can you refer me to pet food banks and housing assistence programs? Thanks a bunch!" NO THEY'RE GONNA FUCKING SAY "i'm fine thank you :)"

IT'S SO STUPID!!!!!

[drabbles-mc]

Catching the Red-Eye

Juice Ortiz x F!Reader

Request by Anon: I just saw a funny post that gave me a fic idea: Friend says “Our flight is at 3am so we could go drinking and then straight to the airport.” Y/N: “Sound like a great idea!” Narrator: “It was not a great idea.” Can I request a Juice x reader where she & her gf (maybe Tara or someone?) are coming back from a girls trip and Juice(&Jax or whoever) have to deal w/ whatever state they find their girls in? 😂😂

Warnings: language, alcohol

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: I started a draft for this months ago when you first sent it in and then my computer deleted it. But I got back to it tonight because apparently my muse is only awake between 11pm and 1am these days 😂 I did tweak a couple little things from the original request but the idea of writing reader an Tara as friends just made my heart way too happy. I love them so much and I hope they have many adventures together going forward. I've missed writing slice of life stuff like this. 🥰 (Also I can't lie this made me want to write more fic for Jax and Tara. It's such a small glimpse of them here but god I mourn the missed opportunities of them just having normal relationship moments man idkidk)

A/N 2: My requests are closed this is an old one that's been sitting in my inbox for literal months. Unedited and unbetad as always lmao

SOA Taglist: @espieviolet99 @littlekittymeow @chibsytelford @juicyortiz @meadowofsinfulthoughts @i-just-read-stuff @bport76 @withmyteeth @buckybarneshairpullingkink @paintballkid711 @jitterbugs927 @fanfic-n-tabulous @mijagif @frattsparty @winchestershiresauce @beardburnsupersoldiers @choochoo284 @artemiseamoon @yourwinchesterbros @nessamc @garbinge @narcolini (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

It was the first time that you’d ever actually been drunk on a plane. For all the times you heard people talk about airport bars, and all the times that flight attendants had offered you cocktails, you had never really thought much about it. You were always on the go through the airport, always had a book or something to keep you company on the flights. You had never even been buzzed near a plane, let alone drunk and on one.

Apparently the missing ingredient had been traveling with Tara. You had no idea what you had been missing out on until you had it. All because of a trip for a hospital conference. The two of you had spent the better part of your week sitting through lectures and seminars. Sure, the information was interesting, and sure, you were both thankful for the opportunity. But after an entire week in a swanky resort it felt like the two of you had nothing to show for it.

Then to top it all off, your flight got delayed. So you and Tara were stuck at the airport with a few extra hours to kill. It wasn’t long enough to justify leaving just to have to go back through security, but it was too long to just sit there doing nothing. You had no interest in the book in your backpack, and the way that Tara was looking around the airport had you thinking she was in the same predicament.

Then she turned and looked at you, eyebrows raised and a little bit of a glint in her eyes. “You know,” she leaned on the armrest between your two chairs at the terminal, “since our flight isn’t until three now, we could just…” she shrugged casually, “hit one of the bars here and head straight to our flight afterwards.”

You chuckled, trying to gage just how serious she was. “R-really?”

She shrugged, “Why not? The plane has a designated driver. Plus,” she stood up from her seat, “I think we deserve something besides pamphlets and lecture notes for the week we’ve had.” She held her hand out for you to take. “Come on. Closest bar is just a few gates down.”

Despite knowing that it was most likely going to end in a hangover on a plane, you slapped your hand into hers and let her pull you up from your seat and down the hallway. The amount of laughter erupting from the two of you were the sure sign of an impending good time.

It was such a good time, in fact, that it was a just before midnight when your phone started buzzing in your pocket. You pulled it out to see who was calling at such a late hour. You half-stifled a giggle as you showed Tara the name flashing across your screen.

“I forgot to tell him the flight got delayed.”

Her eyes widened as she laughed, taking a sip of her drink before saying, “Oh. When you tell him, make sure he tells Jax.” She let out another laugh. “I forgot to tell him, too.”

You were laughing as you answered the phone. “Hey, baby.”

“Hey,” Juice had been confused the second he dialed your number, but the drunken lilt to your voice only made him more confused. “Are you good? We're at the airport and—”

“Promise me you won’t get mad?” you asked, still giggling.

“He better not!” Tara chimed in with a laugh before ordering the two of you another round of drinks.

Juice couldn’t help but to laugh at the fact that Tara was also drunk. After getting it together, he said, “I promise I won’t get mad. What’s up?”

“Our flight got delayed.” You laughed. “Until 3AM. We aren’t,” you took a sip of the drink that Tara handed you, “we aren’t gonna be home until morning.”

Juice sighed but he wasn’t mad. All the shit that you went through because of him being in the club, all the changed and canceled plans for a myriad of reasons, you more than earned this one. Tara too.

“You’re mad,” you said.

He laughed. “I’m not mad. Just, you know, don’t get carried away and miss your flight.”

You smiled even though he couldn’t see it. “We won’t.”

“Text me later with an ETA?”

“As soon as we board the plane.”

“Alright. I love you.”

You were beaming. “I love you too.” He was halfway through saying goodbye when you remembered, “Oh! Shit. Make sure you tell Jax! Tara forgot too.”

Juice laughed. “Yea, I think he might have figured it out by now.”

You heard Jax's muffled hello on the other end of the line, laughing before finally getting around to saying one more I love you to Juice and saying goodbye.

The rest of the night into the tiny hours of the morning flew by in a bit of a blur. There was a lot of laughing, a lot of drinks. If your memory served right there were a decent number of them that you and Tara didn’t have to pay for yourselves which always seemed to make a drink taste better. It was a great time, and despite the amount of alcohol in your systems you still made it to your flight on time. You even remembered to update Juice.

The two of you managed to get your laughter somewhat under control for the sake of the other passengers on the plane. You didn’t want to keep them up with fits of giggles so you dialed it down. It didn’t take long for Tara to drift off to sleep, but you knew that wasn’t going to be happening for you until you home and in your own bed. And, with any luck, curled up with Juice.

Not sleeping had the unique upside of allowing you to nurse another drink or two on the flight. Just enough to keep you buzzed, to stop you from getting slammed with a brutal hangover. You kept yourself perfectly amused on the relatively short flight home. A few hours on a plane seemed to go by faster than in the car. Being able to watch the sun come up while still having a buzz certainly didn’t hurt.

Tara woke with a groan when you nudged her shoulder after the plane landed. She shook her head at you, not opening her eyes all the way as she felt around on the floor for her purse. “This is why I don’t drink,” she grumbled.

You laughed as you stood up, slipping your backpack on your shoulders. “No, you don’t drink because we always have to be grownups.”

“If we’re both grownups, why am I the only one who’s dying?” she asked as she reached over and snatched your sunglasses off the top of your head and put them on.

“I stayed up,” you laughed as you walked through the airport towards baggage claim, “and I stayed drunk.”

She had to laugh at that. “Smart. I’ll have to remember that next time.”

“Next time?” you said with a grin as you pulled your suitcase and then hers from the carousel. “Hell yea.”

When the two of you stepped outside, Tara immediately let out another groan at the bright morning sunlight. You couldn’t help your laughter as you continued walking, looking for either your car or Tara's. She followed along behind you, trusting you to do the real scouting on her behalf.

It wasn’t long until you saw both Jax and Juice standing on the sidewalk, leaning back against the side your car. You waved to get their attention, picking up your pace, not caring about the suitcase rolling and bouncing along behind you. The second you were close enough, you let go of the suitcase and ditched it on the sidewalk in favor of running up and hugging Juice. You hopped up, wrapping both your arms and legs around him as you buried your face into the crook of his neck.

He laughed, the impact of your jump making him stumble a step but he still caught and held onto you. He hooked his arms underneath you, holding you as your legs wrapped around his waist. He hooked his chin over your shoulder, holding you tight for a moment before you let your feet hit the ground again. Pulling back, you kissed him hard on the lips, leaving the both of you breathless and somehow still laughing.

“I missed you too,” he said with a chuckle. He leaned into it as you cupped his face in your hands. “The trip was good, then?”

“It was great!” you beamed. “Missed you, though.”

“Looks like you two did just fine without us.” He paused, looking over at Tara who was leaning into Jax as he chuckled at her hungover state. “Well, one of you did just fine.”

Jax kissed the side of Tara's head. “Rough trip, babe?”

She shook her head. “The trip was great. I’m still dying, though.” She hugged him and kissed him on the lips. “Take me home so I can die in peace.”

He laughed. “Is this how I am when I’m hungover?”

“You’re worse,” all three of you replied in unison, laughing when you realized.

Jax rolled his eyes but he was laughing too as he picked up both your suitcase and Tara's to toss them into the trunk of your car. “Let’s get you party animals home.”

You immediately ran towards the front of the car. “I call shotgun!”

You were comfortably slouched in your seat with your feet on the dash before Jax and Tara finished settling themselves in the back seat. Jax had his arm draped around her shoulders, keeping her tucked snug against his side as she got ready to lightly doze for the duration of the ride home.

Juice reached over, resting his hand on your thigh as he drove. You interlocked your fingers with his, watching the scenery through the windshield and the passenger window.

Juice squeezed your hand. “How the hell are you not, you know, super fucking hungover?”

You were too busy laughing to answer the question, so Tara piped up from the back seat for you. “Hair of the dog,” she mumbled.

You laughed as you nodded. “Something like that. I just didn’t let myself sober up all the way.” You saw the way Juice peeled his eyes off the road to look at you for a moment and shrugged. “What? The flight attendant offered! Who was I to say no? Don’t worry,” you patted his hand, “when I wake up from my nap in a few hours I will be plenty hungover. By then Tara will be doing better than I’m doing now.”

Juice dropped the two of them off at Jax's. You said a lazy goodbye from the passenger seat, the exhaustion of the week and the all-nighter finally catching up to you. You were starting to close your eyes when Juice got back into the driver's seat. He looked over at you before he put the car back in drive, unable to stop smiling at the sight of you.

You didn’t have to open your eyes to know that he was looking at you. “Yea?”

He laughed quietly. “Nothing. I love you.” He leaned over the center console so he could kiss the side of your head. “I’m glad you two had fun. I’m even more glad that you’re home.”

You opened your eyes and looked at him with a smile. “You’re a sap, Juan Carlos.”

He chuckled as he backed out of their driveway. “You love me, though.”

You couldn’t deny that. “I do. But remember that you love me in a few hours when I’m cranky and hungover.”

“When you’re trying to bury yourself in all of our pillows and blankets?”

“And trap you there with me.”

“And all of your crankiness.”

You laughed, resting your hand on top of his on the console between you. “Exactly.”

[spicysix]

「eddie munson X gn!reader • roadtrip!AU」

2.6k words | prev | next | masterlist | ao3 warnings: yeah, you guessed it, there's a nightmare in this one. oh, what can i do? i'm a sucker for cliche songs of the chapter: you got another thing coming (and the entire screaming for vengeance album) - judas priest • innocent exile (and the entire killers album) - iron maiden • long away - queen

Thursday, July 24

Eddie Munson had back pain.

Not that he’d tell you, of course. He woke up silent, went to the shower area without a word, came back and only nodded at you in greeting. You woke up with the commotion, went for your own shower, came back and joined him on the front bench of the van and he was still as quiet as a tomb. But the way he was moving, rolling his shoulders with groans, the bags under his eyes and how he didn’t seem to find a single comfortable position to drive — all that just gave him away.

“We’re getting a motel next,” you said, looking through the window and humming along out of sync with what you thought was Judas Priest on the radio. The volume was higher than the day before.

“Excuse me?” he asked.

“Yeah, I can see you’ve got a sore back from sleeping here. So, either we alternate the mattress, you join me on the mattress or we get a motel with a decent bed for you.”

He was silent once again, eyes on the road, his fingers tapping the wheel along to the music. Brows furrowed, the whole annoyed look on his face that you were starting to memorize by now.

“Motel is fine,” he finally answered after a few minutes, voice low and still grumpy, but you grinned: battle won. Reached over to the dashboard and increased the volume, headbanging to the song, and Eddie huffed what was almost a laugh as his face melted to a more pleased expression — or, last annoyed at least.

── ⇌ • ○ • ⇋ ──

You reached Sioux Falls, South Dakota around three, almost four. Eddie refused to stop even once, and your legs grew sore from sitting in the same position for so long, but you didn’t want to annoy him any further by asking him to stop. You were trying to win him over! You had both eaten most of the stuff he had brought the day before at the convenience store and you knew you’d have to stop somewhere again to buy more snacks sometime.

Eddie stopped at the first motel with vacancy by the road after you entered city limits, and the two of you got your bags from the back of the van before entering the motel. He stopped you mid-walk to ask how would you pay for it, and you just shrugged and said ‘government money’. He agreed to it with a hesitant nod.

The receptionist told you there was a single room left, but it had two beds so that was enough. You paid for it, not letting Eddie pay his half because it had been your idea after all. You grabbed a touristy pamphlet before following him to your shared bedroom.

You left your bag by the end of your bed, the one near the window, and Eddie got the one near the door. There was also a bathroom, and you wasted no time before walking into it to get freshened up with a change of clothes. When you came out Eddie was starfishing on his bed, over the sheets.

“This might have been a good idea,” he said with a sigh and you chuckled before he entered the bathroom to refreshen himself.

You were reading the pamphlet when he came out. “There’s a Zoo, paid tickets, and there’s the y’know, falls, free entrance. Choice?” you asked.

“Kinda just wanna stay here and watch TV, to be honest.” He pointed at the TV on top of the cabinet facing both beds.

“C’mon, we gotta see stuff! What’s the point of a roadtrip if you’re gonna be inside a motel or a van the whole time?” You got up from where you were sitting at the edge of your bed and picked up your bag and the last of the food you still had left.

“Well, it wasn’t exactly a planned roadtrip,” he muttered, but picked up his wallet and keys from where he had left them on his bed and followed you outside anyway. There was no actual bite in his voice. “No Zoo, though, I’m terrified of all kinds of wildlife.”

── ⇌ • ○ • ⇋ ──

To the Falls Park you went, then. The pamphlet had a city map and so you guided Eddie to your goal and asked him to pass by the Zoo only so you could see it even if from afar. You had never been to a Zoo before, was kinda disappointed that Eddie didn’t choose it instead of the waterfall, but there was no deadline to your trip and you could still convince him at some point.

You also stopped at a post office to send your postcards. Yours went to Steve’s address, and Eddie’s went to Wayne’s. You also mailed a little letter disclosing that you were both fine, safe, and on a little adventure of your own — all the stuff you had told Steve through the phone already, but you wanted it written down so he could pass the words to the rest of the Party. You didn’t ask Eddie if he had let anyone know, again. If he wanted to, he could open up to you about it. When he wanted to, you were optimistic. And patient. Your grandma would call it long-suffering.

Eddie parked the van a couple of blocks away from the Park, was able to find a free spot on the street, and so you had to walk for a few minutes to reach it. You were both silent again, but Eddie wasn’t grumpy — he seemed kinda off, but not in a bad way, just… introspective. You respected his silence anyway.

When you finally reached the park and followed the signs to one of the viewing spots of the waterfalls, you took another glance at Eddie and realized he had headphones on, his Walkman on the front left pocket of his jeans. Okay, so he really wasn’t in the mood for talking. But he kept walking beside you, looking around with curiosity and you even saw him smiling at two kids — an older brother, he was maybe twelve, and a younger one, no older than eight — play-fighting on the grass. You wondered if they reminded Eddie of Dustin, because it was the first thing that popped into your head at the sight of them.

You followed the paths to the ruins of a mill and Eddie didn’t seem interested, but didn’t walk astray as you admired the remains of the old building. When you finished your contemplation, you kept heading down the same path and he followed you again.

The walk lasted a few more minutes until you were tired and decided to go near the river and sit on the grass, with an open view of the falls. You found a tree and rested with your back turned to it, Eddie did the same on another side of the tree.

You just enjoyed the silence. There were a few people around you but they weren’t loud, you could mostly hear the sound of the water running, the birds chirping and a very low guitar hum coming from Eddie’s headphones.

You closed your eyes.

When you opened them again, the sun was a little lower in the sky. Maybe you had fallen asleep.

Scooting back up from where you had slipped a little lower on the grass, you noticed Eddie also moving beside you. Looking directly at him, he no longer was listening to his Walkman, and was scribbling and doodling on a notebook. Where did those even come from, you had no idea.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” he said and you chuckled, ignoring the slight goosebumps on your arms from the nickname he chose to use. There was a breeze.

“Was I out for too long?”

“Nah, half over an hour at most.” You just nodded and observed the scenery around you.

There were even fewer people than before, and the birds chirping as the afternoon melted into the evening were different from the ones you heard before your nap. A couple was sitting not far from you and Eddie, the girl’s head on the boy’s shoulder and they were laughing as they talked. The river was still running at full force, and the sound and view of it were still soothing. It was all some good sights for sore eyes.

You thought Eddie was still in his broody, silent mood. Until, no longer than five minutes later, he spoke up.

“Why’d you come along?”

You turned your full body to face him properly, not liking the idea of such an important conversation being held without eye contact. He was no longer scribbling in the notebook, pencil hovering over the page. But his eyes didn’t meet yours.

“Didn’t want you to come alone.” It was a simple answer, and it was the truth. He pondered it for a while.

“But how did you know I was…”

You waited for it, but he didn’t finish his sentence.

“Running?” you offered and he grimaced. You knew how he felt about that, if the sobbing discourse you heard him spill to Dustin in the Upside Down was a good clue. “It’s okay to run, Eddie. Honestly, you should’ve done it down there too. It’s okay that you didn’t, though. It’s all okay. You did, and you’re still doing what you think it’s best. You’re alive, you’re brave either way and you’re my friend. I wouldn’t let you run alone.” Not again, you added mentally.

He closed the notebook and closed his eyes. Let out a long sigh, and his shoulders were shivering slightly even though it was still very hot under the setting sun.

“I’m still so afraid of it,” he said after a few minutes, his voice almost a whisper, his eyes finally meeting yours, and you could see how wet they were.

“It’s a really scary place.”

“I know the super-siblings said Vecna is dead, and so is everything that ever existed down there, and the gates are closed, and we’re finally safe. But… I’m still afraid. All the time.”

You scooted closer to Eddie, eyes still on his, and reached to him slowly, giving him time to deny your touch if he wanted to. Like the feral kitten he was. He let you grab his hand, though, and squeezed yours right back.

You couldn’t think of words that would fully express what you felt and that would be enough to soothe him somehow. But these were the type of feelings you knew very well, all of your friends did, and only you understood each other. So you told him just that.

“I know. Me too.”

── ⇌ • ○ • ⇋ ──

You and Eddie spent a little while longer in the Park before heading to a diner that was close to where the van was. You ate burgers and pancakes and shared fries, you made small talk, and you were more than glad to have Eddie opening up to you, bit by bit. Bringing to light his true self that you had only caught glimpses of before March, and that you were growing fond of.

He let you choose the radio station on the way back to the motel. And stopped by a record store and encouraged you to go in and buy some tapes of your own for the now growing roadtrip collection. It was nice of him.

Back in your shared bedroom, you took turns silently getting ready to sleep in the bathroom, and it didn’t take long before you were under the sheets, drapes closed by the window and a faint light coming through the thin material after you shut the lights off. Eddie bid you goodnight, you bid him goodnight and soon there was nothing but silence. You were an easy sleeper, so you were under in no time.

You were also a light sleeper. Though, even if you weren’t, you’d have woken up.

Because Eddie was screaming.

You bolted from your bed, familiar with what was happening because you had nightmares yourself. You turned on your nightstand lamp before placing yourself by the end of Eddie’s bed, thinking about your approach.

You’ve done this before.

Robin was easier, you just had to put her under physical pressure — a tight hug would calm her down and sometimes she’d drift back without even waking up. Max wasn’t so different, but she wasn’t as fond of physical contact in those situations, so you only used it as a last resort, not to upset her even further. Usually talking to her in a calm voice or singing softly to her would do. Steve was harder, he was bigger and stronger, once he elbowed you so hard you had to put an ice pack on your cheek.

You remembered Eddie shoving Steve against a wall and pinning him there, and decided to go with the Harrington approach.

“Eddie?” you called him in a normal voice, not hushed as you’d do with Max, but as you’d talk to him if he was awake. He was kicking and rolling in the bed, his voice going hoarse from the screams. You hoped the neighbors wouldn’t bang on your door or worse. “Eddie, wake up.”

You held his ankle in a firm grip and he stopped trashing around. Funny how similar to Steve he was.

“Please, please, please, I don’t wanna die, I don’t wanna, I don’t-”

Your heart shattered. Your own eyes teared up, your own heart started beating fast, but you convinced yourself to keep your breathing stable. You had to help him through it, there was no room in it for your own panic. You had a task at hand.

“You’re not dying Eddie. You’re safe.” You decided you were also safe and walked until you were at his side, kneeling on the ground so you’d be at eye level with him. His body was standing still, but he kept moving his head from side to side. “Eddie, you’re safe. You’re in a motel with me, we’re in South Dakota. You’re safe.”

You kept talking to him, talking about your whereabouts and the day you’d shared, noticing how he was growing calmer at the sound of your firm voice. It wasn’t an easy or quick process, but he stopped screaming, and after a few minutes he was awake.

His head turned to face you, a single thread of light from outside through the window reflecting on his wet brown eyes. He was still breathing heavily.

“You’re safe,” you said one more time, reaching to place your hand right beside his arm on the bed. Giving him the option, once again, to initiate contact.

Once again, he chose to touch you.

He turned fully to his side and faced you completely, his eyes never leaving yours, and reached your hand with his own, gripping it tightly. Tears were falling silently down his face.

He scooted backward and never let go of your hand, a quiet plead for you to join him in bed. So you did, also lying on your side, over the covers, to face him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and you smiled.

“Nothing to be sorry for. We’ve all been there.” He agreed with a single nod and closed his eyes, breathing deeply.

“I punched Wayne once,” he said when he was looking at you again, and you told him about Steve’s elbowing and how you learned to stay away after that. “Will you stay? Until I’m asleep? I’m still scared.” Your heart grew fonder with how vulnerable he was being with you, with how much he trusted you.

“Of course, Eddie. I’m here. You’re safe,” you affirmed one more time, and he closed his eyes again.

His hand still holding yours, you watched him fall asleep. His breath stilling, calming, gaining a soothing rhythm.

You kept watching him long after he was asleep. Lost track of time counting the freckles on his cheek, the waves and curls and coils of his hair, the way he’d murmur softly to his now peaceful dreams. Your hand still holding his.

end notes: hmmm you thought they'd only have one bed, didn't ya? got'cha!

taglist (is open!): @amira0303 @rupsmorge @wyverntatty

[torahoes]

(IDOLiSH7) Torao Mido - An Idol's Daily Life Rabbit Chat: Part 4 - Preview screening with ŹOOĻ

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Tsumugi Takanashi: Good work today! I received some pound cake from Inumaru-san earlier.

Tsumugi Takanashi: He mentioned it was a thank-you present for the refreshments the other day and that you helped him pick it out. Thank you so much for going out of your way to do this...!

Torao Mido: He asked me for a shop that sells sweets you might like, so I just gave him a recommendation. It’s no big deal.

Torao Mido: It’s from a shop that’s also in our hotel, so I can vouch for the taste.

Tsumugi Takanashi: I've always wanted to try it; I'm really happy! It's a really popular place, so I wasn't able to buy any before...!

Tsumugi Takanashi:

Tsumugi Takanashi: By the way, did you both manage to get home safely after you picked up Inumaru-san?

Torao Mido: Yeah, there was no problem. He was humming happily for a bit, then he fell asleep right away.

Tsumugi Takanashi: Mido-san's driving must've been really comfortable.

Tsumugi Takanashi:

Torao Mido: Even so, I don’t want to do it again. Driving around a drunk guy isn't exactly my idea of fun.

Torao Mido: Well, I did get a thoughtful thank-you gift this time, so I guess I don't mind.

Tsumugi Takanashi: What did you get?

Torao Mido: Tickets to an upcoming American comic movie event in Tokyo. He got two, so he invited me to go with him.

Tsumugi Takanashi: Wow, that’s wonderful! I heard they’ll be showcasing the actual props used in the movie, and that a famous director will be visiting!

Torao Mido: You sure know a lot. So you were aware of the event too, huh.

Tsumugi Takanashi: Yes! Mitsuki-san is into it as well, and he was really happy to get tickets. I heard they were really hard to get.

Torao Mido: It’s a popular series. It’s common for these events to be held overseas, and since it’s rare for it to take place in Japan, I guess the demand was really high.

Tsumugi Takanashi:

1) Have you always liked American comic movies?

Torao Mido: Pretty much. I get why those action-packed stories of good versus evil are so popular. The huge production budgets make for impressive, large-scale films.

2) What do you like about American comic movies?

Torao Mido: The action is really powerful. It's a spectacle to watch on the big screen. Also, I think there are many who admire the protagonist's determination to stick to their beliefs despite facing challenges and dilemmas.

3) Do you also collect merchandise?

Torao Mido: Yeah, buying pamphlets and such is a must. It seems that plush toys are also popular lately, and, yeah, I do often see women taking photos with plush toys in front of the movie theater banners.

Torao Mido: What kind of movies do you usually watch?

Tsumugi Takanashi: I enjoy watching movies featuring animals, but I also make sure to check out other popular films that are being talked about!

Tsumugi Takanashi: The other day, I went to see a movie featuring Natsume-san.

Torao Mido: Ah, the one with the androids, right? We also attended the preview screening for it. It was a movie worth watching.

Torao Mido: The CGI technology was impressive, and I could feel the director's attention to detail when it came to the psychological depiction.

Tsumugi Takanashi: Yes, truly… The scene where Natsume-san, playing the emotionless android, sheds tears for the first time after the professor's death was so poignant…!

Tsumugi Takanashi: I couldn't help but cry in the theater > <

Torao Mido: Minami's performance was remarkable. The way his seemingly emotionless expression gradually softened as the story progressed gave me goosebumps.

Torao Mido: Knowing him, he probably calculated every detail, from the movement of his gaze to the way his lips moved when speaking.

Tsumugi Takanashi: You could really sense the gradual emergence of emotions. I can't forget the look of happiness on Natsume-san's face when he smiled for the first time in the movie…

Torao Mido: Haruka said the same thing. He said that even if the movie's over, he's still going to remember it and feel like crying every time he sees Minami's face.

Tsumugi Takanashi: I get what he means. Even now, when I see Natsume-san on TV, I'm moved by how expressive he has become since then...

Torao Mido: You're dwelling on the movie too much.

Torao Mido: Well, it really was that good, so I understand your sentiment.

Torao Mido: I bet Minami would be happy if you told him.

Tsumugi Takanashi: I'll be sure to summarize my thoughts and impressions and send him a Rabbit Chat text!

End of Part 4.

[innocentlymacabre]

The cavern boasted an impressive selection of species, sure to rattle the first-time patron. It was like those forced diversity university pamphlets, only the diversity in this case was actually real.

“HA! I told you they would leave. Next round’s on you,” Axle boasted.

“How in the name of fuck did you know that?” Lott lamented, waving to the bartender for two more whiskeys.

“Well, while you’ve got that lovely little Tracker lounge of yours, I stay loyal to this bar. Any time I’m in the human realm, I drink here. And I’ve been spending a lot of time here lately. Morgan and Morrigan – that’s who those two were –”

“Yes, of course I know that. Only two necromancers this side of the Atlantic worth a damn.”

“Right well, Morrigan happened to have ghosted that werewolf. Twice.”

Lott sucked his teeth in. “Twice?”

“Twice.”

“Fool me once?”

“Yeah, well, a werewolf can still rip you to shreds with ease, full moon or not.”

“Good point. You know who’s probably too stubborn to be ripped to shreds?”

“Lay it on me. What did Jayce do now?”

“Oh, he’s got this insane idea.”

Lott raised his paw to the table to show Axle the wound.

“Long story short, I got this wound from a dream and we’ve tracked the dream down to The Crescent of Fools and Forgotten Time.”

“Why not just name it Foreshadowing McDeath at that point?”

“I shit you not, I thought that exact thing. Anyway, Jayce has got it in his head – and unfortunately mine too – that we’re going to go to the Crescent and find out what’s what.”

“God damn.”

“Yeah.”

“When do you leave?”

“Day after. Jayce said he’s got to visit an old friend or something. I don’t know. He said it’s better if he goes alone.”

“Concerning.”

“I suppose.”

A small moment of silence lapsed between the two of them, as they sipped their drinks and turn their attention to the bar around them. A group seemingly made of exclusively people with some pointy feature crowded around the dart board, vampires, gnomes, elves, and more drunkenly slurring out bets. A moleman entered from the dark of the outside and slipped a pair of sunglasses on, muttering something about modern electricity being a curse. The characteristic twinkling lights of fairies floated around, greens and reds and pinks blinking around the room. They were just faint enough that it would have been easy to convince someone drunk enough that they were just seeing things.

“There used to be a beehive just outside my window,” Axle said, breaking the brief silence.

“Hmm?”

“When I was a child. Outside my window there used to be a cluster of beehives. Bees twinkle just like fairies in the Dreaming. I used to fall asleep to their soothing glow.”

“What happened?”

“Hmm?”

“Why “used to”?”

“Oh. We moved. We moved houses. I sometimes dream I’ll buy that place again, sometime in the future. Little holiday home. Or someplace I go when I want to feel the warmth of home around me. I’d like to show it to Trance one day.”

“Can they even enter the Dreaming?”

“Not sure. We haven’t tried that yet. But I don’t see why not.”

“Hey,” Lott said, raising his glass. “To beehives.”

Axle clinked his and smiled. “To beehives.”

“Want to get out of here? I hear we’ve got a wonderful moon tonight.”

“You asking me out on a midnight flight, Morton?”

“You going to say yes, Carter?”

Axle looked at Lott in the eyes and gave him a lopsided smile. He shrunk down until he was small enough to zip through the busy bar and shot outside. Lott laughed and followed him out, clumsily wading through the sea of drunken patrons.

“Lead the way, good sir.”

Lott and Axle took off. Their wings spun around one another, their bodies intertwined in the air, and their conjoined form cast a shadow on the town below against the magnificent light of the moon.

↝✧↝

I'd started taking my writing a bit too seriously and somewhere along the way I forgot that art is fundamentally meant to be fun. So I decided to do something dumb. I took two characters from two different projects - both dragons, by the way - gave them a pre-existing relationship, and chucked them into a bar. It's unedited, it's stupid, and nothing said here has any sort of impact or acts as any sort of indictor for the canon of either story, but it was fun. So I wanted to share this with you.

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[swampstew]

Blind Date Event - Shanks X Reader

Thank you to everyone who submitted applications for my Blind Date Matchmaking Event. I hope you enjoy these lovely bedtime stories during this week of overpriced chocolates, flowers and heart shaped things. @mrsackermanlevi I hope you like your blind date :)

Mostly fluff, SFW, Shanks X Female reader, first blind date experience. WC: 779. Minors DNI - my content is for mature audiences only

You knew you were staring. It was hard not to. The stunning man in front of you was leaning on his equally stunning Ferrari Fiorano 599 GT Convertible. A classic red coat gleamed with a perfect, scratch-free surface. Shanks however was not free from scratches, missing his left arm and seeing the deep, scarred slashes over his left eye, a shiver went through your body. His entire demeanor screamed excitement.

His laugh was nice to listen to. You weren’t entirely sure what to expect after finding him like that outside your apartment. Your first impression – yes you know, never judge a book by its cover – yet, your first impression was that of a man who was confident, strong, and had a professional poker face. His smile looked authentic but it was either because he was a man who smiled a lot or a man who knew how to mask well. You were thrilled to bits to learn it was the former.

As he drove downtown, the two of you played the ice breaker games in your matchmaking pamphlets. It was a shockingly easy way to learn about each other very quickly as you travelled to your destination. A secret that Shanks wanted to surprise you with.

“_____, what are your top three deal breakers?”

“Oh that’s easy. I don’t tolerate cheating, smoking, and the inability or unwillingness to show affection, especially in public. If someone is too ashamed to hold my hand or be close with me, that tells me they lack the ability to appreciate me or the values I hold dear. Cheating and smoking is self-explanatory.”

Shanks nodded in agreement as he listened.

“What about your top three deal breakers?”

“I would say lying, needless cruelty, and the inability to have fun and try new things. Life is unpredictable, we should spend the time enjoying ourselves, not boxing ourselves in. Lying and needless cruelty is self-explanatory yea?”

You nodded, smiling. Pleased to learn that you share similar values and outlooks. The drive had been incredibly pleasant and you were a bit nervous about how you were supposed to spend the actual date if the two of you got through all the pleasantries before the date even began?

Turns out you didn’t need to worry. Shanks’ idea of a first date turned out to be a drive-in movie. Perfect, you almost purred. He parked the convertible and then motioned for you to move to the backseat while he went to the trunk. He jumped into the back with you holding a basket. Inside, a massive bag of popcorn, some shareable candies, a couple of beers, and cozy blankets.

To be honest, you don’t even remember what the movie was about. You were completely mesmerized by the man. His dashing good looks, his charming personality, his entire vibe was comforting, safe. Your breath hitched as he snaked his arm around your shoulder. You tried to hide the smile on your face as you leaned into his touch. Wrapping your arm around his waist to snuggle closer into him.

The movie was over much too quickly, your pout evident as the credits ran. Shanks eyed you from his peripheral, doing his best to not giggle at your pout. He really enjoyed the date and he wasn’t eager to see it end either. Especially since the two of you couldn’t really talk during the movie.

He gave you an amused smile, “______, what if we started our second date tonight? Have you ever been to a disco club?”

“A disco club?” your eyes widen and your brows furrowed. “Those are still a thing? I’m not sure I’m wearing the right clothes…”

“DAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Are you calling me old?!” tears leaked from his eyes. “Don’t worry about your clothes, disco is about getting loose and enjoying yourself. C’mon lets go have some fun!” he threw his arm around your shoulder again, squeezing it gently, nudging his side into yours almost like a gentle hazing. His dark eyes twinkled with anticipation at your answer.

“Mmmmm,” your lip curls. You don’t really want to be surrounded by a ton of people, you just want to spend more time with him.

“I’ll buy drinks and pizzaaaaa,” his voice lilted.

You pouted again, “Fine you’ve won me over with your bribe!”

His fist raised in the air. “You won’t regret it! And you can hold on to my waist some more if you need,” he winked at you. “Unless you’re already good at skating? Maybe? Surprise me!” he excitedly chattered, stowing away the basket and helping you to the front seat. Your grin matched his, butterflies in your stomach as he drove you to your second date.

[seriousbrat]

Also I just want to clarify - there’s no wrong answers, I love your opinions even when I have completely different ones - (tho you have changed my mind on several).

Still on the topic of home decor, I’ll leave here a prompt for you to tour us through:

- Remus’s flipped derelict cottage in Wales

- Sirius’ first place he got for himself (is this canon or fanon? Another option is his Azkaban cell, but that just sounds mean)

- James and Lily’s Godric’s Hollow love nest

- Peter’s bedroom in his extremely awkward house-share with Snape.

I’m clocking out! Free at last.

Omg I absolutely love this idea!

-Remus's house: so idk what the deal is with Remus's parents, I believe Hope dies at some point and it's unclear if Lyall is still alive. But let's say Remus owns/inherits the cottage. I see Remus as pretty neat and careful with his belongings; he obviously doesn't have a lot of money as an adult so he has to take care of his things. I see him as pretty minimalist honestly, I think he'd conserve a lot of it the way his parents had it but maybe add some tasteful prints and curios. I WILL say that if Remus was wealthy he'd actually have extremely good taste in interior design. Kind of mies van de rohe vibes although with a little more charm and warmth. To me he's spartan but tasteful.

Also, I love a welsh cottage and I think it works well with what I see as Remus's style, it's slightly colder, more minimal. We're talking SLATE, dark woods, white walls.

-Sirius's flat: first of all it is canon that he got a place at 17! This flat features pretty heavily in the next part of my fic because Lily stays with him for a while, so I've got a pretty clear image of it. I've set it on Railton Road in Brixton and this is how I've described it:

The décor is unexpected, given what Lily knows about Sirius Black. The sitting room’s rather bare, with a moth-eaten sofa and a few upended milk crates functioning as tables, laden with ashtrays and empty cans functioning as ashtrays, as well as an assortment of pamphlets and rolled up copies of the Daily Prophet. The walls are decorated with a few colourfully patterned fabrics and a couple of scattered posters— mostly advertising local gigs, and clearly taken off the street.

Sirius later explains that he hates that his parents' house is full of useless pretentious tat that symbolises the former glory of the Blacks, so he's gone the complete opposite of that. I'd say he's going for squat house core, except (in the universe of my fic) he's been influenced by his muggle boyfriend so the 'colourful fabrics' that Lily describes here are african prints which personally i loooooove. Here's a pic that is Sirius and Lily roomie vibes to me (and yes i just recoloured Jane Birkin's hair)

-NEXT, Godric's Hollow: I see this as a fairly typical quaint little English cottage in terms of decor. To me it's the historic home of the Potters before Fleamont struck it rich and they still holiday there (I believe I have Godric's Hollow in Somerset) so it's rustic, cosy, warm. I think this gels well with Lily's taste so she wouldn't have changed much, plus idk how much opportunity they'd have for interior decorating when they were in hiding.

-lastly (i LOVE this lol) Wormtail's cell in Spinner's End. I might turn this into something of a discussion of the Spinner's End house in general because it's very clear in my mind, but Snape and Peter's roomie era is so funny to me. Snape obviously LOATHES Peter so he'd want him to suffer as much as possible. I think Snape made serious edits to Spinner's End when he moved in (for instance, I don't think Tobias had so many bookshelves and definitely didn't have magically concealed doors behind them) but my view is that Snape gave Peter his old room because to him it's the most miserable one in the house. It's tiny, grimy, with ancient peeling walls, cracked ceilings and very little light. Snape would move into the master bedroom that once was the dominion of Tobias as a power move.

about Spinner's end in general, it's very much a working-class victorian terraced house typical of a mill town, and Tobias and Eileen definitely decorated it in the WORST 70s way possible. It's grimy, dark, cramped, with a soot-stained brick exterior. This is some inspo from a quick search:

you can also check my cokeworth tag for more, though it's mostly exterior.