#and its only 11 o clock

[vanteguccir]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ11:50 PM. DEC 32ST, 2024 * MATT STURNIOLO

SUMMARY　::　where Y/N shows up at Matt's doorstep at 11:50 PM of New Year's Eve, soaked by the rain and ready to confess her love to him.

FEATURING　Matt Sturniolo x reader　REQUESTED?　no.

WARNINGS　::　insecurities (just a bit). friends to lovers trope.

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

11:45 PM.

December 31st, 2024.

Y/N had never considered herself one for big gestures. She preferred to deal with her feelings by pretending they didn’t exist, tucking them away in the quiet corners of her heart until they faded on their own. That had been her plan for handling her crush on Matt Sturniolo - ignore it, bury it deep, and wait for it to dissolve into nothing.

But the universe had different plans for her.

Instead of subsiding, her feelings for Matt had only grown. They grew with every laugh they shared, every accidental brush of his hand against hers, and every time he looked at her with those soft, oceanic eyes. It felt like the emotions were slipping out of her control, inch by inch, until tonight, when they completely exploded.

Now, she was walking through the freezing rain, her body trembling as water seeped through her clothes. She had never been more determined - or more terrified - in her life.

The Sturniolos' house was a few doors away, its warm glow spilling onto the wet pavement. It was almost midnight, and she knew the triplets and their parents would be gathered inside, celebrating New Year's Eve together. She didn’t care. She couldn’t wait for a "better" time or a "perfect" moment. Her time was now.

It had started hours earlier when she sat in her room with a notebook, jotting down her resolutions for the new year. She wanted 2025 to be different. She wanted it to be clean, honest, and full of things that truly made her happy. But one glaring thing wasn’t right - her feelings for Matt. She couldn’t go another year pretending she didn’t feel the way she did.

The rain fell down harder, and her breath came out in visible clouds as she approached the front door. The cold was relentless, but it barely registered compared to the storm inside her mind.

Her heart hammered as she pressed the doorbell. She could hear Trevor’s nails clicking on the hardwood floor as he bounded toward the door, his excited barking growing louder.

She smiled.

Of course. Having the triplets' parents in Los Angeles for New Year's had meant Trevor was here too.

Drops of water dripped down her face, mingling with her already damp hair, as she clenched her fists at her sides to stop the trembling. She didn’t know what she’d say when the door opened, but she knew she couldn’t leave without Matt knowing the truth.

The clock ticked closer to midnight.

11:50 PM.

Ten minutes until the new year. Ten minutes to change everything.

The door creaked open, and Matt showed up - not surprising, it was always Matt who got the door; Chris and Nick couldn’t be bothered most of the time. He stood in the doorway, his hand on the knob and his expression soft with curiosity.

Trevor bolted out before Matt could say a word, charging toward Y/N. His wet nose nudged her soaked leg, wagging his tail so hard it shook his whole body.

"Hey, boy." Y/N said softly, her voice trembling from the cold as she crouched down to scratch behind his ears. "I missed you."

Trevor barked once, happily, then turned and bounded back into the house, disappearing up the stairs toward the living room, leaving her alone with Matt.

Matt took a step forward, leaning against the doorframe. His brows knit together as his eyes swept over her, taking in the rain-slicked hair plastered to her face, her damp, trembling figure, and the strange look in her eyes - something between fear and anxiety.

"Y/N?" He asked cautiously, his voice quiet but edged with concern. "Hey, what are you doing here? Are you okay? It's almost midnight."

She wrapped her arms around herself, looking down at the wet ground beneath her feet.

"I know, I'm sorry. I just need to talk to you." She said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'll be quick, I promise."

Matt blinked in surprise, his gaze flickering toward the warm glow of the living room. He hesitated for a moment, then looked back at her.

"Okay." He said slowly, though his tone was laced with uncertainty. "But you should come inside. You’re soaked, and it’s freezing out here."

Y/N shook her head quickly, her voice catching as she replied.

"No. I can’t. I don’t even know if you’ll hate me after this, and I... I think it’s better if we stay out here."

Her words and the desperation in her eyes froze Matt in place. He let out a soft sigh, clearly torn, but he nodded.

"Okay." He repeated, his voice low. "Okay, we’ll stay here."

He stepped out fully onto the porch, the rain spilling over the edges of the roof above them. His hands were shoved into his hoodie pocket, and his expression was unreadable as he waited.

Y/N drew in a shaky breath, staring down at her soaked sneakers.

"Um... The first time we met." She began, cringing when her voice faltering slightly. "You completely threw me off guard."

Matt tilted his head slightly, confusion crossing his face, but he didn’t interrupt.

"I had heard so many amazing things about you on the internet." She continued, her words coming out in a rush. "When you and your brothers moved to LA, to my street, I thought I already had this perfect image of who you were. But then I actually met you."

She glanced up at him briefly before quickly looking away, unable to hold his gaze.

"You were more than I ever imagined. You exceeded every expectation I had in my head. You’re... so sweet, Matt. So kind. So human."

Her voice wavered, but she pushed on.

"You take care of people. You’re a gentleman, and you’re so thoughtful, always putting everyone else before yourself. And then we started spending all this time together. At your house, at mine, sleepovers, just... being with you."

Matt’s expression softened, but Y/N kept her eyes fixed on the ground.

"You were always there." She whispered. "And every time you were, you pulled at my heart a little more. You made a home inside it, Matt. You made it warmer. And somewhere along the way, I fell in love with you."

Her cheeks burned despite the cold rain.

"When I realized how I felt, I was terrified. I thought, 'Why would someone like Matt ever feel the same?'"

Matt opened his mouth to speak, but Y/N raised a hand, cutting him off.

"So I hid it." Her voice broke slightly as she added. "I buried it so deep because I couldn’t lose you. I wasn’t ever going to tell you, Matt. I wasn’t. But tonight..."

Y/N took another shaky breath, her fingers trembling as she pushed her damp hair back from her face.

"Tonight." She repeated, her voice quieter now but still steady. "I was sitting in my room, writing down my resolutions for the new year, as I always do, you know that. But then I started thinking about what I wanted for 2025, what I wanted my life to look like, the things I needed to fix, or let go of. And then I realized something." She hesitated, her chest rising and falling as she braced herself. "The one thing I haven’t been honest about with anyone is how I feel about you. And I can’t go into a new year carrying this secret anymore. I just... I can’t."

Matt’s brows knit together as she continued.

"I can’t stop thinking about you, Matt. I think about you all the time. Your laugh, your kind words, the way you’re always so thoughtful. The way you smile at me like I’m the only person in the room. Everything about you, every little piece of you, it’s always on my mind."

Her voice trembled, but she didn’t stop.

"Every time I see something, it reminds me of you. A song, a movie, even the smallest things, like the way the rain smells or the sound of someone laughing across the street. It all brings me back to you. You’re the only thing that never slips my mind, no matter what time of day it is."

Matt’s lips parted slightly, but he stayed silent, his hands still buried in his hoodie pockets as he listened.

"You’re my best friend." Y/N said, her voice breaking slightly. "But I want more. I need more."

Her eyes finally met his, and for a moment, she forgot the rain, the cold, and the fear pounding in her chest.

"I want to be called yours. I want to be seen by your eyes with love, not just as your friend. I want to be held by your hands, kissed by your lips... I want to be yours, Matt."

Tears mingled with the rain on her face as she finished, her voice dropping to a whisper.

"And I'm so sorry for damping all of this on you like that. I know it’s a lot, and I’m probably ruining everything right now. I-I never wanted to mess up our friendship-"

"Y/N-" Matt interrupted, his voice firm but gentle, but she didn’t even hear him, lost in the whirlwind of her thoughts.

"And I don’t want you to feel bad for rejecting it. I know you don’t feel the same way, because why would you? People like you never fall in love with people like me-"

"Y/N."

His voice was louder this time, cutting through her rambling like a sharp blade. She froze, her eyes widening as she finally looked at him.

"Y/N." He said again, softer now, his eyes locking with hers. "You're so silly. People like me fall in love with people like you all the time, actually."

"What?" She whispered, her voice barely audible. Her brows knitted together in confusion, her lips parting as if to say something else, but nothing came out of them.

Matt shook his head, a small, breathy laugh escaping his lips before he leaned in.

His hands found her waist, gripping her soaked shirt as he pulled her closer, and then his lips were on hers. The kiss was everything at once, soft yet intense, hesitant yet confident, warm despite the cold rain pouring down around them.

Y/N gasped softly against his mouth, her hands instinctively reaching up to tangle in his messy hair. His lips were softer than she could’ve ever imagined, moving against hers with a fervor that sent shivers down her spine.

Their mouths opened, their tongues brushing and intertwining in a dance that felt both foreign and natural. The rain mixed with their saliva, the taste of each other blending with the crispness of the winter air.

Matt’s hands tightened on her waist, grounding her as her knees threatened to give way, and her fingers tugged lightly at his hair, earning a quiet groan from him that she felt more than heard.

The world around them seemed to fade away, the cold forgotten as their shared warmth became the only thing that mattered.

And then, like magic, the sound of fireworks exploded in the distance, the vibrant colors illuminating the dark, rain-soaked sky. Cheers and laughter echoed from nearby houses, and Y/N’s mind registered what was happening: midnight.

12:00 AM.

January 1st, 2025.

New Year's Day.

Slowly, they broke apart, their breaths mingling in the space between them as their foreheads rested together. Y/N’s heart was racing, her cheeks flushed despite the chill, and she could see the reflection of the fireworks in Matt’s eyes.

"Happy New Year." He whispered, his voice soft and filled with something she could only describe as love.

She laughed breathlessly, a smile breaking across her face.

"Happy New Year." She replied, her voice light despite the tears still glistening in her eyes.

Matt pulled back slightly, his lips twitching into a small smile.

"So... do you want to come inside now? I think you’ve been out in the rain long enough."

Y/N chuckled, nodding.

"Yeah, I think I do."

He reached for her hand, his fingers warm and steady as they intertwined with hers, and together, they walked inside the house, leaving the cold rain and the past year behind.

© vanteguccir

[secretlovezz]

Simon with an s/o who has a cat

Prt.2 here! <-

He hates your cat 😭

Their literally mortal enemies it's ridiculous

The cat glares at Simon 24/7 and he stares right back

You finally make it home after a stressful day at work ready to shower and relax. You open the front door and call out, "I'm home!" You get no response. It makes your brows furrow in confusion, having been used to a little furry friend lying on your unused shoes waiting for you to get home or hearing the heavy steps of your boyfriend making his way toward you. But today there was no welcome wagon for you.

Your heart immediately racks in worry the once steady beat of it moving to an unnaturally quick pace. Your hands move faster to remove your shoes and jacket wanting to look for the person and cat that once populated your apartment.

You call out again, "Simon? My Baby?"

"In here, dove." At the sound of your lover's voice, you're on the move heading to where his voice had been most prominent.

When you get to Simon- in the bathroom -he's clad in only a towel water still dripping from his hair and body and condensation on the mirror signifying he's just gotten out of the shower. Then your gaze goes to his face and his eyes aren't on you they're focused on something on the counter.

Your cat.

They're staring at each other both of them refusing to look away from one another. They were barely blinking. Then you realize why Simon's having a glaring contest with your pet, it's because the cat was on his clothes refusing to move out of pure stubbornness.

Suddenly you're glaring at the both of them too, "Are you guys being serious right now? This is getting ridiculous," you tell them and with Simon's response you roll your eyes and walk away.

"Oh, this is deadly serious, love"

Sometimes when Simon walks by your cat it latches onto Simon's leg kicking and biting the shit out of him (your poor boyfriend is just about ready to chuck the cat into outer space)

Your little fur baby definitely steals or tries to steal food from Simon's plates. Simon swears the cat gets stronger when determined to get into his stuff

Simon's cups have been knocked off of tables more often then not being left to clean up a mess that isn't his

Your looking up from your plate of food as soon as you hear grumbles and silverware clanking roughly against a porcelain plate. You smile a little at the sight in front of you. Simon's pushing your cats head back away from his food, while the cat uses all of his strength. Simon's scowl at the animal only gets deeper when he sees you smile at his unfortunate situation.

"You better not be smilin'," He says annoyance clear in his tone.

Now your laughing, a sound simon usually adores, one that makes his body relax, one that makes him feel safe, but now it has him clenching his jaw and has his eyebrows furrowed.

"Make 'im stop," He growls.

You pretent to think about it for a moment, pointer finger tapping your chin in faux thought, "I don't know si... this is thoroughly entertaining. What's in it for me if I help you?" The vein on his arm looked like it might burst at your question.

"If you don't get this dammed cat away from me it's gonna go missin'," you roll your eyes at his dramatics but called your cat to you regardless.

When you cuddle with one of them the other gets sooooo jealous

Simon will literally toss your little baby off the bed

The cat hits and claws for simon to get away from you

(Your constantly having to scold them its like having two children)

These two will argue with each other Simon's voice is stern its how you imagine he talks to new recruits and your cat is meowing loudly at him clearing cussing him tf out

Groggily peeling open your crused eyes open but quickly closing them as the bright morning sun peeked through your bedroom window you start to awaken. You rubbed into your eyes with the back of your fist before opening them again moving to look at the clock on the bedside table.

11:23

You slept in, or really someone let you sleep in because to your right your boyfriend seemed to have long since left the bed leaving the side he usually accompanied empty and cold.

You stretched and groaned the sheets and blankets moved with you weird groans and grunts leaving your yawning mouth as your joints crackled and popped. You sat up in bed still drowsy with sleep barley aware of your surroundings but still you gripped the enormous blanket and wrapped it around yourself as an act to shield the breezy-ness of the winter weather that leaked into your apartment.

Mreeeooow!

Your head whips to the door at the loud sound. Your cat was talkative but he was never very loud about him. This time the usual cute sound was replaced with an almost screech that made you cringe.

You take a deep breath before standing up and making your way to your room door. Once you open it the sounds of your cat get louder and now you can hear Simon too. His voice is booming but isn't loud it's stern and serious but filled with frustration and anger.

As you walk down the hall to the living area your duvet drag behind you on the floor. The floor creaks and groans under your feet alerting the two others in your home. Both their heads snap towards you. Your little baby's ears are pinned back in airplane mode and his pupils are dilated. Your big baby has his nose scrunched and lips downturned into a frown.

Your voice is laced with tiredness and a little deeper than it normally is, "What are you two arguing about this time?" The back of your hand is rubbing one of your eyes again as you speak.

"The little fucker is bein' disrespectful, he's not listenin' to me."

The cat meows loudly in response to Simon seeming trying to say he was lying.

You sigh and move to pick your cat up, he turns to putty in your arms and nuzzles his head against your chin. You walk towards Simon now. Leaning into him and humming contently when he wrapped his arms around you and the little one in your arms pretending to be annoyed but fully relaxing against your body.

[aisquaredchoco]

Okaaaay I'm back..sort of? @amethystgengar and @sarasccblog suggested me some edits to EA objects so I gave them a shot. And here are the finished products.

Roaring Heights "Straightforward Bookcases" Emptied

These bookcases were too wide for me to put slots on (and might overwhelm TSRW too much to eventually crash), so instead I used the 1-tile edits of these bookshelves so that they can also look seamless when placed against each other. The curved end parts are also emptied. Slot count are as follows:

Straightforward Bookcase 1 Tile Short: 11 slots

Straightforward Bookcase 1 Tile Tall: 17 slots

Straightforward Bookcase Short End: 11 slots

Straightforward Bookcase Tall End: 17 slots

All have the same three channels, found in Surfaces > Displays/Misc, and costing §150 each.

Ambitions Bake Sale Table Emptied

Most of the clutter is removed and left only the tip jar. It is still functional as a bake sale table so Ambitions is required for it to function properly. It also has visible geostates that you will see money filling up in the jar with every successful sale.

It now costs §65, found in Kids > Misc. It now only has two channels, while the slots are left intact. It also comes in a version that functions as a dining table with the same slot placements. It costs §15, found in Surfaces > Dining tables.

DOWNLOAD: Simfileshare | Mediafire

SPECIAL THANKS: @enable--llamas for the 1-tile edits of the bookcases, TangledHelix and its-time-o-clock from the @ts3creatorscave Discord for testing the bake sale table.

damn I made this banner but I ended up being the one not using it on some of my uploads lol *facepalm*

[valleyof-goldenlilies]

The Gingerbread Kerfuffle - Modern! Daemon Targaryen x Reader

Summary: Seeking your husband's help in baking gingerbread turns out not be the roaring success you had hoped it would be.

Pairing: Modern! Daemon Targaryen x AFAB! Reader

Warnings: profanity, p in v sex, degradation, cunnilingus, spanking, overstim, tiddy play, rough sex, slight daddy kink if you squint, she/her pronouns used

Word Count: 1.75k words

A/N: hoe hoe hoe! a very merry late Christmas and Happy New Year in advance from me to you :) Daemon girlies, you are up first 😋 i hope you enjoy!

lovely dividers credited to @firefly-graphics !

“And what exactly is the difference between these two?” Daemon’s disgusted voice broke you from your focus as you focused on beating the milk and sugar. You sighed, turning to face Daemon as he held up the bag of flour and baking powder, looking confused. 

Why in the Seven Hells did you think it would be a good idea to try and rope your husband into helping you to bake gingerbread cookies? 

If it weren’t for the two twin girls soundly asleep upstairs in their beds, eagerly awaiting for your household’s traditional gingerbread cookies, you might have laughed until you woke the whole neighbourhood by now. 

“This, my dearest husband,” you took the bag of flour from his hand, “Is the flour. Or all-purpose flour as we call it.” 

“And what are its purposes?” Daemon inquired, a scowl on his face as his gaze flickered between the baking powder and flour. 

You paused, “I…actually don’t know,” you admitted. “It’s just essential.” Daemon scoffed, “Darling, are you sure you know how to bake?” You shoot him a glare. “Who’s the one struggling to tell the difference between flour and baking powder, darling?” You moved to check on the mixture in the mixing bowl. Your husband came up behind you, hopefully not to ask another question about the difference and functions of baking ingredients. 

Arms encircled you, as Daemon buried his face in your hair, inhaling your sweet floral scent. “You know…” Daemon murmured, hands creeping towards the front of your shorts. “I might not understand anything about baking, but you sure look sexy as hell while doing it.” 

“Mmm,” you hummed, playing along as Daemon continued kissing your neck. “Daemon, the girls.” 

“Won’t hear a thing,” Daemon concluded, trying to tug off your shorts. “As long as you’re quiet, darling.” 

You smirked, pressing yourself up against him. A groan and his hardness pressing against you made you know you had succeeded, causing your smirk to widen. “Come on, darling, what do you say?” Daemon murmured, hands grazing over your pussy over your shorts. “Let me fuck you?” 

“Hmm,” you pretended to consider it. “I say…help me roll up the dough into two balls, you dirty dog.” You spun around, pushing him off you gently. 

Daemon raised an eyebrow, a smirk forming on his lips, looking not at all bothered by your rejection. “I know what other two balls you can play with-'' He laughed as you shoved the mixing bowl in his arms, looking at him sternly. “Less dirty talk, more rolling please. I’d actually like to get some sleep before having to wake up early to bake these tomorrow.” 

“Yes, madam,” Daemon responded in a sly voice, as you narrowed your eyes at him. 

The two of you made fast work of it, rolling the dough into two balls, before putting them in the fridge. You let out a sigh of relief as you began washing up the bowls in the sink, it was only 11 o’ clock, which meant that the two of you could get in eight hours of sleep before having to wake up tomorrow to bake the cookies. 

When you finally finished washing up, you wiped your hands on the kitchen cloth, brows furrowing a little. It was quiet…too quiet. 

“Daemon?” You called out, scanning the kitchen for your oversized man toddler. You had asked him to put the ingredients back into the pantry, but the man was nowhere to be seen. “Daem-“ 

You let out a squeal as strong arms scooped you up, bridal style. Daemon carried you like you weighed nothing more than a rag doll, briskly walking up the stairs to your shared bedroom. 

“Daemon, what are you-“ you squealed again as he tossed you onto your bed roughly, immediately climbing over you and removing his sweatpants. “You think it’s funny, hmm?” Daemon lifted an eyebrow as he continued undressing himself, then moving to undress you. “Teasing me like a brat in the kitchen, acting all smart with me in the kitchen, like you’re better than me hmm?” 

You stifled a giggle, coyly trailing a finger down Daemon’s abs. “Well, to be fair, you were the one who confused sugar for salt. I think I-“ You yelped as Daemon flipped you over onto your stomach, landing a harsh smack on your ass. “Not so feisty now, are we?” He taunted, spanking you again. 

You choked on your breath as he continued spanking you harshly, but the inner brat in you refused to submit. “Says the man who doesn’t know the difference between a spatula and a whisk,” you mocked, sticking up your ass even more, leaning into his touch. 

Daemon growled, hand landing on your ass so harshly that it made you yip in pain. He immediately moved to cover your mouth. “Shh, little whore,” he said condescendingly, smirking down at you. “Don’t want to wake the girls, don’t you?” 

You were about to argue back, but then Daemon, clearly having had enough of your bratty attitude, thrust into you harshly from behind, making you scream into his mouth. He rubbed your back soothingly with the other hand, shushing you like you were a small child. “Shh, shh, I thought you said that we shouldn’t wake the girls, yes?” Daemon’s words were mockingly sweet, as he began pumping into you leisurely. He still kept his hand over your mouth, muffling any of your moans and cries as he fucked you. He groaned as you clenched tighter around him when he went faster, his hips snapping into yours. “Oh, the little whore likes it when I treat her rough like this, doesn’t she?” Daemon taunted, emphasising his words by thrusting into you when he called you a little whore. “Likes it when her daddy just fucks her with no care in the world, doesn’t she?” 

You nodded eagerly, and Daemon smiled wolfishly at that, planting kisses down your neck down your spine. “Such a good fucking girl, mmm, all for me,” Daemon smacked your ass lightly a few times, groaning at the erotic sound of skin slapping on skin. 

You felt a heated whisper against your ear, as Daemon grazed his lips against your ear, making you shiver. “And do you know what good girls get, sweetheart?” Daemon pulled back with a smirk as he watched you with mock pity. “Oh yes, my hand is still around your mouth. Tsk, how silly of me to forget.” He relished in the indignant “mmph!” noises he heard from you in response. 

“I’ll tell you the answer, sweetheart,” Daemon said blandly, like he wasn’t currently ploughing into you right now with the vigour of a bull. “Good girls get to cum, sweetheart.” With that, his other hand went down to your swollen pearl, rubbing it with his thumb. He laughed as he heard your noises becoming more and more needy, letting out a sated sigh as he felt you cum on his cock, your walls tightening around him as you did. 

“Oh, beautiful,” he leaned down and kissed you, taking note of how out of breath you were as he released his hand from your mouth. A smug smirk flickered on his lips. You were shaking so badly…

Too bad he wasn’t known for being “The Merciful” in the business world. 

You yelped when Daemon flipped you over. Your back hit the cool sheets, but they provided little relief as Daemon seized your legs, forcing them to wrap around his waist as he continued thrusting in you. Cries of pleasure fell from your lips as Daemon’s hot mouth went to suck on your swollen, hardened nipples, biting them lightly and delighting as you writhed under his tongue. 

“I can’t come again, Daemon, please,” you cried out, as Daemon’s pounding grew more and more intense and you felt the familiar coil in your stomach again. Daemon released your nipple with a wet pop, and looked menacingly into your eyes. 

“Yes, you can. You little slut.” 

Daemon lowered his mouth back onto your heated, sweaty skin again, this time devoting his attention to your neck and collarbone, while his hands came up to play and fondle with your tits, squeezing them. You let out a strangled moan as you came again, as Daemon flicked his thumb at your hardened bud. 

You had hoped that Daemon would let you go after that, but your husband had other plans. Your head initially lolled back against the pillows in exhaustion, but it snapped up again as Daemon spread your legs even wider. “What…”

A wicked grin was all you saw before Daemon dived between your folds, eagerly licking up your wet, swollen slit “No, no, no more,“ you cried out, hips bucking off the bed as you tried to pull yourself away from his hot, needy mouth, but firm hands gripped your hips tightly, preventing you from moving an inch more. 

You were always the sweetest thing Daemon had ever tasted, and he especially loved eating you out after your orgasms, with your legs shaking and barely managing to keep a hold of your sanity as he ravished you with his mouth. 

When you felt his skilled tongue flicking at your clit, you could feel your orgasm approaching again, your body trembling in preparation for it. “Daemon, I can’t, I can’t-“ A strangled moan tore from your throat as you came, squirting Daemon’s face and tongue with your juices. Daemon chuckled darkly against your folds, refusing to stop until he had licked up every trace of your cum. 

Exhausted after the three orgasms wrung from you, you collapsed back on the pillows. You felt a finger running along your overstimulated slit, as Daemon pulled himself up to you again, kissing you sweetly, a stark contrast from his former ravenous, wicked demeanour. 

Daemon pushed his finger into your mouth, giving you a simple command. “Taste yourself, darling.” Your tongue hesitantly darted out, sucking your own juices off his finger. A sigh emerged from your lips, and Daemon smiled, kissing your forehead. “Is it over now?” you mumbled softly, eyes fluttering shut. 

“Mmm,” Daemon hummed, looking down at your blissed out, fucked out state. “I think you’re forgetting something, darling.” 

You opened your eyes, looking confused. Eyes darting to the clock on the wall opposite your bed, your brows furrowed. “Merry…Christmas, love?” 

Daemon burst out laughing, hand trailing down to play with your nipples again. “Not that, darling,” he whispered, a devilish grin on his face. “I still haven’t come yet, haven’t I?” 

Oh, fuck.

Daemon General Taglist: @aiyaiy @kmmg98 @norestfortheshelbywicked @hb8301 @hc-geralt-23 @babypink224221​ @mckenziewhite2005 

let me know if you wish to be added to a general taglist for daemon related works or just my works in general in the comments below or through this form! :) 

thank you for reading! if you liked it, likes, comments and reblogs are always highly appreciated! merry late xmas guys 😘🎄

[dawnoftime22]

hi! How do you feel about writing a fic where Taylor and fem!r get married? (Both in white wedding dresses btw)

I love your fics btw :)

wedding day.

| T.S

Warnings: lots and lots of kisses, a single sentence of 'I don't deserve you' quickly avoided with Taylor's reassurance, and thats it

Summary: Finally, after years of your shared honest love and months of planning, you and Taylor decide to get married, and it was your special day to wear your beautiful wedding dresses and walk down the carpet.

Word Count: 4.5k

Category: FLUFF!

A/N: hehe I really loved writing this request, and kind of got carried away...although I usually write for gn!reader, I still adored this, especially because I got to write this at work<3 (I work at a wedding venue btw! so its very perfect) thank you for requesting this lovely story! I hope you enjoy :] reeally sorry if its too long

pls don't judge, I have no idea how to write vows

| Started on 13/07/2024, 11:34 AM | the 13th :o

| Finished on 15/07/2024, 4:12 PM |

Main Masterlist | T.S Masterlist

“No more keeping score now, I just keep you warm.”

|——————————— ⸆⸉ ———————————|

In the morning...

Sunshine filtered in through the window curtains, peeking in as daylight slowly arose, a gentle sight to lay your eyes upon in the morning.

You slowly stir from your sleep, feeling the brightness even behind your eyelids, at least until you opened them, needing to blink away the darkness that you once saw.

A yawn elicits from your lips, and you bring your hand up to cover it, stretching too, as you were at it. Once done, you take in your surroundings, registering that it was now morning.

Beside you, there she was. The love of your life, sleeping peacefully like an angel in bed. Her blonde hair almost seemingly glowed from the sunlight, radiant and nothing short of what you loved seeing.

You let out a gentle breath and reached up your hand, lightly tracing her cheek with the side of your index finger.

She was something precious, something you'd put in a treasure chest, or to keep in your pocket at all times to bring with you.

Her breaths were soft, so peaceful and deep in sleep that you if you weren't so close to her and inspecting her face, you would've thought she was gone from this world already.

You smile softly, admiring how her eyelashes went down, and her beautiful face structure. Simply everything. It felt unbelievable.

Today was the day. The day you'll officially put a ring on each other's fingers. Officially with a promise, a vow. You remembered how everything else before went, exactly how you had your small box ready, back at the restaurant balcony, with a stunning view.

But when you had brought out the ring and revealed it to Taylor, but in mere seconds of surprise, it doubled when she had one too, prepared to bring out still in her pocket until she showed it to you.

A small chuckle escapes your mouth at the memory, and you fade back into reality, focusing back on Taylor's curves and edges, and she was still asleep as you gazed at her.

Your eyes trailed over to the clock on the nightstand at the side of the bed. It showed 7:45 am. You still had some time, but you feared of the time needed to arrive at the wedding venue.

You lean down, giving her a soft kiss on her forehead. Then, pulling back only to go put another on her cheek.

A cheeky smile raised upon your face as you had an idea of waking her up, and you leave a kiss on the tip of her nose, then anywhere else you can on her face, peppering it all over her skin and trailing her jaw.

Slowly, Taylor was waking up by the tingling feeling of your kisses, feeling your soft lips lingering. She blinks away her sleep, letting out a small adorable and confused hum.

When her eyes find yours, a smile raises up on her lips, before she lets out a small giggle, now knowing the source of the tickles. She was still feeling your kisses, and it was the gentlest way she's ever woken up by.

"Good morning, baby..." she whispers groggily, her voice husky and quiet as her arms reach out to wrap around you, pulling you closer like a simple teddy bear.

"A very good morning," you reply back happily, and her heart jumps in joy at your voice, a chuckle leaving her lips as she knows exactly why you were so happy.

"Do you remember what today is?" you ask her excitedly, all while she was nuzzling into your neck, still kind of waking up. You on the other hand, had all the energy in the world.

She pulls back from the crook of your neck, looking at you with raised eyebrows. "Of course I do, silly..." she whispers, leaning in to kiss your lips and then brush her nose against yours.

You were all out filled with love as you gazed into her eyes, your smiles reflecting each other's without a doubt.

When you rested your head on her chest, her arms that were wrapped around you squeezes you lightly, feeling her very own excitement for today. "How did you sleep, baby?" You question softly, tilting your head to look up at her.

She gazes down at you tenderly before letting out a content sigh. "Amazingly...you?" she questions you back, wanting to make sure you had just the same comfort levels as she did.

You nuzzle into her face, making her scrunch her nose up. "Always, with you," your voice whispered. Taylor giggles, then buries her face into your neck again, feeling the blush coming onto her cheeks easily.

"You sweet talker...but I love you." She turns her head laying a kiss on your jaw, just between your neck, a warm, loving gesture.

Blood rushed to your very own cheeks, just about to feel dizzy by her love. "I love you, too..." you whisper back, closing your eyes for just a moment.

But upon remembering the important day, you open your eyes again, taking in a breath and pulling back to look into her blue eyes.

"Lets get ready to go, baby," you say, about to get out of bed, but Taylor's arms around you had tightened, pulling you right back into her embrace.

"Mm...just a few more minutes." She pouts, her eyes closed as she refused to get out of bed. At least, for now. She had just woken up, and wanted your time of snuggling.

"Mm, mm, we're gonna be late." You shook your head, murmuring to her as you tried getting out of her embrace, but very much failed, so you went up to boop her nose, which made her open her eyes and raise her eyebrows.

"Mhm, we won't be." she fought back, standing her ground in wanting to stay in bed, and you sighed softly, although the corners of your lips were raised up.

"The 'few minutes' can turn into an hour or more, sweetheart..." you reason with her, reminding with a hint that you still had your important wedding together.

She tried giving you a deeper pout and slight puppy eyes that had your heart clenching as you tried to hold on, but ti wasn't long until you hear a small sigh and a breath of, "Fine."

Your own lips turned down at her obvious expression of her slight frustration, and you lean forward to kiss away her pout, giggling softly.

"I'll make it up to you," you say, rubbing her shoulder before pulling her up with you to get out of bed again, to your success, but she was sagging against you.

"Not to say that I'm literally going to be your official wife today..." you lead on with a small melodical tune, going to the closet.

"Baby," she whines, and you chuckle, relenting as you knew she was a little disappointed in not getting some more time in bed.

You turn around to look at her. "Tonight, cuddles and kisses." your words held genuine as you hand her the clothes to wear on your way to the wedding venue.

She stares into your eyes, searching, then slowly taking the clothes. "...And more?" she asked quietly, going to place the folded shirts on the bed.

"And more." you lay one last loving kiss directly on her lips when she spun back around, surprising her, but she melted into it.

Once you part, you bring her to the shower with you, hand intertwined ever so gently for the warm water to rain down on your bodies.

|——————————— ⸆⸉ ———————————|

At the wedding venue...

When you arrive at the wedding venue, you get out of the car to round to Taylor's side and open her door, to which she gave you a loving smile as she stepped out.

After you both step foot on the venue, you were invited to do an outdoor photoshoot first, and Taylor had agreed to do it with you, the event planner leading the both of you.

You had to change into a different outfit, one of your choosing for the pre photoshoot. Once done, you both walked to where the photos would be taken, and the sight had your eyes shining with adoration.

It was an entire scenery that might have been stolen from your dreams. There was a cobblestone path that trailed down to a big garden of scenery. A swing was hanging off the branch of a tree, and a lake stood proudly behind it.

You were honestly sure that you would spend a picnic with Taylor here someday if you were able to. Even she was taken away by every little detail thats been placed here.

"Tay, look!" You say, pointing to the lake. Taylor turns her head, at first, her expression natural and only curious of your excitement, but her face lights up when she sees the different colored feathers of the animals sitting on the water.

"Oh, my god, ducks!" she said, pure happiness filling her as she squealed, a big smile on her face at the surprise. You giggled at her shock, watching the look on her face

"There's even swans!" the blonde pointed out, gesturing towards them with open hands, having not expected there to be animals in such an area.

You raised your eyebrows but then shook your head with a smile, turning back to face the photographer. "Can we take a picture with them?" You ask, hoping for the best.

The photographer chuckles softly, and nods. "Yes, you can," they answer, probably used to the question, but they hold their camera firmly before helping you both to get in a good position and pose.

You and Taylor also got a heart-hand picture together as a bonus, behind the two of you, two swans swimming, angled at the right timing and making their own little heart shape with their necks.

The hired photographer gives you a thumbs up, and shows you the pictures to make sure you were satisfied. They were friendly, always being gentle and giving positive affirmations, but helping to make the photos look perfect.

Everything was private. Even the pictures taken are only going to be for you and Taylor. Maybe some for the outside world, or just your friends and family, but not all of them. You stayed until you finished the photoshoot, laughs and smiles shared with the two of you.

Once done, you both walk into the building for your wedding, having visited before, but seeing it again made your eyes wide with mesmerization.

The venue was beautiful and huge. The side walls were glass, and the outside held scenery of the pretty outdoor gardens, flowers and trees; the place where you had just been standing in earlier.

Along the walls, extending up to the roof, there were vines decorated in a detailed path, curving and hanging off corners.

Inside, you were walking on concrete flooring, not green grass. Still, it was breathtaking. It seemed almost like a greenhouse, but it wasn't extremely extravagant. Just...perfect.

Yet, the stage. The stage was the main attraction. No, this time, not a stage for Taylor's concerts. Although, it would be great for an acoustic show, you can see the look in her gaze off to it. She was already imagining how your wedding was going to be like.

Upon the stage large white archways stood tall. Flowers were down below and in the middle of the archways, mixed in with the smallest little lanterns. It all had a glowing backlight too, adding onto everything to make it complete.

You and Taylor went to the dressing room to get ready, the time starting to tick down to where the guests was on their way. The room was cozy and dim, enveloping the both of you like a warm embrace.

On the side, there was a rack of your two white wedding dresses. They were beautiful. Chosen and decided by the both of you with the utmost care and sincerity from your hearts. The lace was soft, and parts were flowy enough to make a satisfying movement.

Of course, you needed to get your makeup on first. As much as you were eager to wear the pretty dress, it was best not to get any makeup accidentally on it.

The stylist greets both of you when she enters, giving a kind expression. She could see almost instantly how great of a pair you make, and it lightened her heart tremendously.

You moved to sit on the couch, sitting patiently and waiting for Taylor to finish her makeup first, the light surrounding the mirror helping in making her face glow.

To think that she was sitting here, in front of you, not getting ready for a show, but for a wedding. Your wedding. Together. Well, maybe, a show for you...but this...she was making an eternal promise of her love and for yours.

You were double checking the notes of when you walk down the walkway with the event planner, but you couldn't focus. You look to see Taylor in her makeup chair, absolutely gorgeous looking. She was your distraction, and you didn't mind it at all.

The event planner notices, and they couldn't help but smile. Yet, they took your attention once more just in case. Of course, you go over the planning again, remembering everything without a hitch.

Soon, the both of you finish your makeup. It was a light makeup that show parts of your natural faces while still making it glow.

You get into your dress, Taylor following along behind you and being careful on her touch upon the dress. You adjust everything and look over your own, the all white outfit serving as its one true color, and not off to creme or anything at all.

Just as you were about to take a step forward to ask Taylor to help with your zipper, you see her standing in front of the vertical mirror, her teeth sunk into her lip as she stared and looked at herself.

On the other hand, your heart absolutely jumped, seeing her in the beautiful gown. She didn't have her zipper up either, her hand holding the dress together and trying to reach for it.

You slowly walk towards her, your hand reaching out to gently pull her zipper up before putting your hands on her waist, making eye contact with her in the mirror.

"You look perfect," you whispered under your breath, nearly not even sounding out in a volume. But Taylor heard it, her eyes lighting up as she turns around to gaze at you, her cheeks rising with a blush.

"Really?" she breathed out, sparks flying in her heart. You nodded, smiling brightly at her as you took a step closer. Your hands slide up, gently grasping her arms.

"I almost don't deserve you..." you whispered, barely even above a breath as your eyes looked at every part of her appearance, shaking your head lightly.

"Don't think less of yourself now..." she says, her eyes soft when she brought her hand up to cup your cheek, her thumb brushing against your skin.

You lean into it, holding the moment of vulnerability with her. "I chose you. I love you just as much as you love me, and maybe more," she whispers through the space between you.

"Mm. That can be argued," you murmur, mindlessly letting your mind take control of your mouth without meaning to. But she smiles at the comment.

"Shh..." she puts a single finger on your lips, shushing you softly with a gentle shake of her head. "Just take it, sweetheart," she whispers, which did indeed make you back down.

You let out a giggle though, absolutely surprised at how she took control of the situation. Now, Taylor gazed at you, full of awe. You smile softly and turn around, showing her the zipper you needed help with, and she gladly and gently pulled it up.

Afterwards, your hair was still to the side to have ensured it was not getting caught on the zipper, but she leans in closer, seeing the opportunity to lay a soft kiss on your visible neck.

To your surprise, you tilt your head slightly to look at her, eyebrows raised and a grin on your face. "You, look like an angel, sweetheart," she compliments you charmingly from your shoulder, having you blush for the 100th time today.

"Thank you..." you whisper out, looking down in shyness as she steps in front of you, her hands on your shoulders. She chuckles softly, seeing your blush.

"I love you," she whispers, kissing the top of your head as she pulls you closer. You lean into her, wrapping your own arms around her and feeling the fabric of her dress.

"I love you, too." you reply, closing your eyes with a soft sigh. The two of you needed this moment, how real it was, and how it wasn't a dream.

Outside, the room, the small amount of invited guests had already arrived. If the music and the wedding planner coming in through the room wasn't obvious enough, you can hear the mixed conversations outside, just barely leaking through the walls.

They were playing Taylor's songs specifically made for you on the speakers, mixed in with your favorite songs together, melodies that echo through the hall.

You turn to look at her, and she gives you a reassuring smile before the wedding planner goes to take you both outside, at the entrance of the venue so you could await for your walk together and prepare.

You take a deep breath in, seeing the long pathway, empty only for the two of you. Your heart pounded in your chest, and Taylor can see your nerves setting off.

"Are you ready?" She asks you softly, standing beside you with all the comfort her presence holds. You look to her, taking another breath in.

"I'm, um, nervous...but...yes," you whispered, your voice shaking as your hands trembled. Taylor smiles gently, her eyes softening as she gives you a reassuring kiss on the cheek, her wondrous lipstick not even smudging or lingering on your skin, but her lips ghosting your cheek.

"I'd walk down it anytime you want, as long as its with you, darling." she assures you, leaning in to lightly brush your shoulders in a loving touch.

"You're so sweet..." you whisper, your lips raising up in a soft smile, and it was exactly what she aimed for, her heart swelling.

"Take my hand, baby," she says quietly, holding her hand out to you, and you slip your fingers in between hers, intertwining without a doubt, but she can feel the tremble in your joints.

"We're gonna do this together...okay?" the blonde captures your eyes, squeezing your hand gently. Being assured by her blue set of eyes that only held love and care for you, you nod.

"I'm ready," you breathed out, seeing the wedding planner walk up to the both of you, making sure you were both calm and ready, and that your dress was spread out perfectly.

It was time. This was it.

The glass windows on the side of the walls started to be closed by large metal doors, closing out the outside light, only for the orange chandelier and lights evenly places across the venue to take its place. It was dark, but the walkway had candles alit on its sides, accompanying the red carpet. It was all just to prepare for the two of you to enter.

The guests waited, some holding their breaths, some already even getting teary-eyed at the mere thought that this was where you were both being locked in, officially an intertwined couple.

Taylor's mom, Andrea, especially. She held tissues ready in her hand, some already used. Scott was sitting beside her, getting emotional too with Austin.

When you walk out together, everyone watching gasps, their breaths taken away by the beauty of your dresses and how you two fit together like puzzle pieces in the right place.

Everyone except her parents was requested to have their phones off, and they all obliged, the camera person in front as the main view, but it wasn't the whole world watching.

Both of your dresses flowed and drifted across the carpet, Taylor's white dress having the look and idea of flowers, trailing their pathes.

Your appearances were alit by the many glowing candles and bit of spotlight upon you, up until you both reach the altar where the marriage officiant stands.

When you reach the stage, you turn to face Taylor, still holding hands. The marriage officiant starts her words, the waiting making your heart grow even faster in anticipation, and you tried to make sure everything in your head was correct.

Taylor's eyes were on yours, never leaving. In this moment, it felt like it was only the two of you. The whole world faded in just a gaze.

"Do you, Taylor Alison Swift, take Y/N Y/L/N as your wife?" The officiant finally says, her eyes going up to travel between the two of you.

"I do," Taylor says, her smile growing wider as she looks into your eyes and squeezed your hand, ever excited to hear every word in this special day.

The officiant turns to face you, her lips raised up. "And do you, Y/N Y/L/N, take Taylor Alison Swift as your wife?" she asks.

You nod, "Yes. I do," you say, your genuine happiness evident and overlaying your voice. Taylor's heart just about felt like it was about to explode.

"Now, since you have chosen to say your vows, you may hold each other's hands and speak in truth," the officiant says, lowering her book she was holding.

You take a deep breath, looking to the officiant before catching Taylor's eyes again, seeing her own hesitancy and nervousness in speaking her vows. You smile, and decide to go first.

"Taylor...I will love you, for all my life, and with my entire soul. You were there for me in my worst times, when I needed someone when no one else came to my aid. I don't know what I would do without you, but I know right now, I would do anything for you, and as long as I'm with you, I know I'm living happily. I wish to give you everything you've ever needed, all without resentment. All the kisses, all our shared days, we'll share with laughs and honesty. I hope we spend each second cherishing it all, because I will. With every chance I get. Because you, Taylor, are the love of my life, and I wish to give you this ring so we can have this sweet love forever."

You finished off your vow, some parts being shaky, and some parts holding the most absolute brightest smiles as you felt a swell building in your throat. Taylor already got teary eyed, a soft sniffle sounding out from her before she prepares and remembers her own vows.

"Y/N Y/L/N...With every guitar string scar on my hand, I take you to be my lover...After years and millions of tears, finally, with you, I'll spend all my time with until the end. You're the whole world to me. I promise that all my stares and gazing upon you, will always be filled with love, and my words whispered to you whenever you feel down, will always have care and sweetness. I vow that we'll always be together, in the times of need...and if there are, the times of the worst. The times that are the best, and anything in between. Take my ring, and I'll take yours, our soul to be intertwined, forever and evermore."

You tried blinking away the tears, but they had already fallen at her beautifully thoughtful words. She lets out a small laugh tearfully as she saw you already crying, even though she was, too.

The officiant had put down her book, and held out the board for the rings, and you both took one, slipping it on each other's finger with gentleness.

Once done, the officiant leaned back, and nods. "...I now pronounce you equally wed." she announces. Over in the front row, Taylor's mom was tearing up, looking up at the both of you proudly.

You gaze at each other, eyes holding your own reflections and emotions, and smiles wider than they've ever been. "I love you," you whisper, squeezing Taylor's hand.

"I love you, too," she says back, leaning in to kiss you, and you meet her halfway, your lips brushing before fully touching in a whisper of promise.

"We're gonna be together forever." You murmur against her lips, crying softly and needing to pull back slightly to gather yourself up, but forehead resting against her.

"Yes, sweetheart..." she whispered, smiling softly as she gently nuzzles her nose against you, the gesture making you pull her into an embrace.

Now it was forever, something you'll keep to for your whole life. Thank god for Taylor's indestructable makeup. All her tears had nothing against it, and especially not with her love for you.

The rest of the wedding went by amazingly well, with congratulations from many people, smiles, laughter, and loving stares. There was a polaroid moment, with you and Taylor and her friends only using polaroids to take photos. You danced together, and then cut the cake with Taylor too, both of you having brought the cut piece on the spoon up to each other's lips in a sweet gesture.

|——————————— ⸆⸉ ———————————|

In the car...

The two of you had now changed into different outfits, sitting in more comfortable clothing. Taylor was driving, carefully keeping eye on the roads.

You breathe in the air, then let it out slowly, the seatbelt keeping you grounded as you sunk into your seat exhaustingly, but completely and utterly satisfied with how everything turned out.

The sunset traced your faces, and when you turn your head, it seemed to have made Taylor ever so graceful looking. You might have somehow fallen in love with her even more; if that was even possible.

You smile softly, unbelievably happy as you went to reach your hand over the centre console, resting it on her thigh as she drove.

"I can't believe we happened..." you whisper softly, your thumb soothingly moving. Her eyes flicker down to your hand, her heart swelling.

"But we did," she whispers, glancing to you. When she had the chance, she takes off one hand from the steering wheel, reaching down to hold your hand.

"And I love it," you said quietly. There was almost no more words to describe how you felt. It was all...overflowing your heart at this point.

She smiles softly, bringing your hand up to her lips to kiss it softly. "You're so precious to me..." she says, looking to see your ring she got for you on your finger. Her own hand held the same, but the one you got for her.

She kisses that part of you softly, too, making sure her love is known and marked upon it, and your face held a deep flush before you gently pull her hand to do the same.

The windows held the blurring scenery of a day, the sunset being the framing background picture of your love together, driving back home.

She was all you needed.

And you were all she needed.

---------------------

taglist <3 - join here! :]

@dmenby3100 @wandsmxmff @tia-thesimp @marvelwomen-simp @escapereality4music @fawnedolly @justgayloringeverthrone @lovelyy-moonlight @stevecore @midastouch013 @liloandstitchstan @maleahoswick @raven-ss @deadlymistletoe @bambisfawns

[friendlyrandomperson]

Nice to meet you again.

Part six!

After going back to Sally’s and dealing with a rather tense practice, Frank and Eddie find themselves practicing after hours.

Line after line, minute after minute, Frank grows more frustrated as he stumbles over his words. He groans and walks over to the edge of the stage, sitting down and placing his script to his right, placing his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands as his legs hang limp over the edge.

“Sally is right, I haven’t improved in the slightest. In fact, it seems like I’m getting worse!”

“Well now, I think you’re doin’ just fine.”

“We’ve been rehearsing the same scene for two hours!”

A pause, silent and quick, followed by gentle footsteps and a thump to Frank’s left.

Eddie sits down, his script in between him and Frank, his right hand on top of its pages as his left hand lays flat on the cool wood of the stage, his legs swinging back and forth as his legs dangle over the edge of the stage he falls off of far too often.

“You wanna try switchin’ roles?”

Frank moves his pointer fingers over to make his eyes visible, looking to the left without moving anything else.

“What?”

“A change o’ pace might help ya out.”

The two switch their scripts and return to their feet, taking each other’s places.

After a while, the two decide to try going scriptless.

“You sure ‘bout this?”

“I believe I should try. I do not have many lines in this scene. You can keep your script, there’s a lot.”

“No no, I wanna try it too.”

“I find myself longin’ for somethin’… Uhh…”

Eddie, who has been quite good without the script, furrows his brows as he goes quiet.

“New and true, like the love between me and you.”

Eddie’s eyebrows unfurrow as he widens his eyes and stares at Frank slackjawed.

“You did it.”

“I did what?”

“You just finished mah sentence.”

“What.”

“You memorized yer line.”

A soft, sweet smile finds a home on the grey man’s face.

“I memorized my line… I memorized my line!!!!”

“You did it!!”

Eddie’s smile seems brighter than the stage lights, Frank’s hands rapidly moving back and forth as his grin only grows.

For the rest of the evening, Frank and Eddie run through the lines, only missing one or two words per scene.

A large improvement, but not enough for the entomologist.

“The play is tomorrow, I don’t know if I can do this…”

“Oh c’mon, Mr. Frankly! You’ve been doin’ swell, and you haven’t picked up yer script in hours!”

“I keep missing various words, and it’s… what time is it?”

Eddie glances at his watch and furrows his brows. The little marker is in the darker area of the clock, closer to the top but not quite there yet. Eddie memorized each location, and made sure never to forget it no matter what. It was extremely important that he keeps track of time to make sure the packages and mail gets delivered as fast as possible!

“11 o’ clock.”

“Oh dear, it’s far too late, I’ll never get this right in time!”

“Well, then we can work on this tomorrow mornin’ then.”

“What?”

“I’ve got the day off, ‘n you’ve got the play at noon, right? Rehearsals at eight?”

“How did you remember that?”

“Sally reminded me every day on my route, makin’ sure I repeated it back every time.”

“It works?”

“Apparently so! But I’m gettin’ off track there, why don’t we come by a little early and run through the lines a few extra times?”

“Does seven sound alright with you?”

“I’ll be up before the Sun.”

[darklyndivinely]

I punctured the abscess through abandonment

Fandom - Obey Me!

Pairing - Lucifer x Diavolo

Summary - "Diavolo raises his hand, hesitates, and then cups Lucifer’s jaw. Lucifer allows himself to lean into the touch, for his eyes to slip close; to savour it, this last time."

Warnings - SEXUAL CONTENT, ANGST, fluff, copious amounts of random shit.

Wordcount - 5k+

A/N - title from the english translation of this song. I've been working on this for ages. Dialuci is so exciting to me, the angst potential is endless. I hope it comes through here, because it's important to remember: for Lucifer, his family is above all, even his own happiness. Please do comment and tell me what y'all thought!!

Here's a beautiful rendition of the last scene done by @pseudonymphomania.

Read on AO3 • OM!Masterlist • Leave a tip! • Lucifer! Masterlist

It’s one of those days.

Black rain pours over Devildom. The sky, a churning thing of anger, had cracked open yesterday as he had succumbed to sleep. Some fourteen hours later, it was still in mourning.

Lucifer doesn’t mind.

Such forceful displays of nature, he’s found, cast a film of translucent languor over everything. His mind which is usually stretched thin with a million worries folds upon itself, over and over, until it occupies but a little square of space. All that exists then is the stubborn rain, the wailing of trees as they bow to the angry winds, and the soft ticks of his table clock.

Lucifer presses his forehead to the chilled glass of one of the windows. In and out, he breathes, his eyes shut and mind blank. A repose of quietude. He savours it, trying to document all the ridges of the calmness in his body, knowing that when it leaves, its departure will be long and hard to bear.

There’s a council meeting scheduled at four. He departs for it slowly, knowing that it won’t start till four twenty because tardiness is a vicious illness that his brothers have never been able to defeat. True to form, the last to arrive, Satan and Asmo, twelve minutes late, cite some ineludible mishap in the library. For a second Lucifer considers chiding them, becoming caught up in old habits, before reason returns and he puts halt to the achingly familiar words halfway up his throat. He knows if they escape today the sanctity of this beautiful day would become lost to him. So he gulps down a glass of cold water instead and lets it go.

“Where’s Mammon?” asks Asmo as he settles, eyes drawn to the only vacant seat now.

Mammon hadn’t been present for breakfast either. Lucifer had assumed he’d been summoned by his witches again. “He’ll be caught up. Let us begin now.”

For the next two hours, they discuss the many matters of importance around RAD. Vacant staff positions, complaints against faculty members, how to budget the million year-round events without compromising quality, and ideas for new events as well. Around the ninety-minute mark, the agenda gets lost somewhere within the frothing depths of the river Styx.

Between “A food contest where the winner cooks for me for the rest of their life,” and, “A fashion show where everyone writes a five-hundred word essay about my beauty and throws bouquets of pretty—” and Leviathan’s separate ongoing detailed verbal presentation about the cultural significance of some film adaptation of a novel that he believes all of RAD should come together and watch, Lucifer finds himself feeling some deep, ancient rot taking hold of his brain.

Diavolo’s well of patience, as it turns out, is infinite. His countenance is kind and sympathetic. 

Lucifer’s is not. 

He ends the meeting, his fist bunched around an eraser, barely holding himself back from lobbing it straight down Leviathan’s throat, and sends them all packing.

“Back by 11,” he says, easing back in his chair, “or Cerberus has free reign of your room.”

Diavolo chuckles beside him, refreshing their glasses with water. An easy smile slides onto his lips as the room empties. “Barbatos called,” he says, waving the doors shut with a flick of the wrist.

Lucifer hums, wiping the condensation off his glass and presses it to his temple, some of this morning’s calmness returning to him. “Contracts?”

“No, not yet. He’s happened upon Mammon’s witches. They run a bar in a nearby town that daylights as their hideout. Wonderful spot apparently; excellent mingling of the ley lines.”

“Was he there?”

Diavolo takes a sip of his water, shaking his head. “At a bar, five blocks over. Drunk as a fiddle.”

“Naturally.” Lucifer sighs, feeling the sudden urge to bang his head against a solid surface, preferably the sturdy pine table beneath him. “I apologise for his behaviour. Is Barbatos to return then?”

Diavolo’s lips quirk in a half-smirk, one Lucifer has learned follows a particularly amusing thought. “No. He insisted on staying to keep an eye out. He’ll ring in when Mammon departs for home.”

“Good,” he replies. “I will look over today’s notes and we’ll discuss them tomorrow.”

Diavolo nods, a sudden shine to his supermoon eyes. “Tomorrow then. Have a good night, Lucifer.”

Lucifer tips his head and says, “Goodnight, Diavolo.”

Mammon returns at half-past three that night, slipping through the garage doors straight into his room. Lucifer snaps his novel shut, does a last check on the barrier, and clocks out.

He’s awoken the next morning by a great racket of noise. He’s barely pulled his other pillow over his ears, the fear that the lot may have started a fire in the stove again being swept under the heaviness of slipping dreams, before there is a strong panicked rapping against his door and his sleep takes departure like a startled flock of ravens. He presses a prolonged expletive into his pillowcase and gets up.

Turns out, he’d missed breakfast. And when Asmo had gone to store the leftovers he’d discovered that the fridge wasn’t cooling anymore. Of course, in true menace behaviour, he’d complained about it loudly first before waking Lucifer up. So now Lucifer’s got a panicked Beel on his hands who is now worried for his recently bought cupcakes.

“They’re Madam Scream’s’, Lucifer! Poisoned hellberries and roasted creme! They won’t last two hours in this humidity. You have to do something!”

Lucifer pinches the bridge of his nose and sends the younger to heat all the leftovers in the oven. Is that working or does that also need a mass panic? Then he heads to his room for his phone and makes a call to Electric Demon, scheduling a home visit within the next hour. A shower sounds tempting but the food would go cold again, and Lucifer is a firm believer that heating leftovers more than once is a crime against one’s taste buds. He does his morning routine sans a shower and changes into a plain blue t-shirt and track pants.

Beel doesn’t seem sufficiently satisfied when Lucifer tells him that a technician is on his way. He stands awkwardly by the fridge in the kitchen, a cupcake box in hand and a frown on his face. Lucifer watches him from the dining table for a while, then, fed up, says, “Just open it already!”

Beel startles, turning to look at him. “Are you sure—”

“Yes! Open it or I’ll open it for you!”

Beel’s frown deepens. But he comes to sit at the dining table and begins to bite into his cupcakes with a focus that is perhaps a bit too much than the task demands. It’s all kind of adorable though and it eases a bit of Lucifer’s annoyance at the day’s bad start.

“Did Mammon come down for breakfast today?”

Beel shakes his head. He looks up suddenly, mouth full, his tangerine eyes fixing on Lucifer’s as if he’d been caught doing something naughty. Then looking as if in extreme pain, he slides the cupcake box towards Lucifer.

Lucifer chuckles and considers pretending to pluck one just for the fun of it all. He would have any other day, but he doesn’t. Not today. He slides the box back with a polite decline. Beel passes him a smile and digs into his food with more fervour. Lucifer resists the urge to ruffle his hair and leaves him to his sweets.

In the kitchen, Lucifer plates all the leftover food and casts a mild heating spell upon it. He takes it upstairs to Mammon’s room. It’s messy as always: clothes flung around, shoes discarded at the bottom of the staircase. Lucifer leaves the plate on the centre table. Mammon is sprawled on the bed in his briefs, his jeans a dark tangle on the floor. Beside it, there’s a half-empty pack of cigarettes. Lucifer toes at it, grimacing, knowing without a look that it’s one of those cheap, low-quality soft-packs. Standards were truly becoming non-existent nowadays.

The doorbell rings downstairs.

“Lucifer!” Beel shouts.

He sighs. I’ll check in later, he vows, heading off.

Later, however, doesn’t roll around until late that evening. Diavolo calls him up after the technician leaves.

“When are you coming over?” the prince says, straight to the point.

Lucifer considers his options. He could postpone, spend a lazy Sunday in the library and practise a tune or two at the piano. There’d be stacks of papers on his table tomorrow anyway, they’ll stay late at RAD and squeezing in their discussion wouldn’t be too big a hassle. However, it’s a nice day off and the prospect of being holed up in the library doesn’t seem so appealing anymore. He would much rather chase a pair of golden eyes.

“Soon,” Lucifer says.

“I just got a great idea for Barbatos’ gift,” Diavolo says the second Lucifer is within his sight. The prince is clad in a tight black t-shirt and loose grey pyjama with a pot of tea in his hands. Lucifer hums and takes a seat at the dining table, setting the file he’d brought over at the corner. Diavolo pours the tea into two cups. A subtle earthy smell wafts up in the steam. Fireweed, Lucifer recognizes. One of Barbatos’ own creations. He’d probably left a bunch of it behind for Diavolo to peruse.

“How many cups of this are you drinking a day?” Lucifer asks, taking a sip.

Diavolo’s forehead scrunches with a whine and he slumps into his seat. “Too much! I’m afraid I might be addicted at this point.”

Lucifer smiles around his cup. Trust Diavolo to become addicted to tea. “What is this idea then?”

The prince perks up and sets his cup down neatly. He takes out a small, brown drawstring pouch from his pocket. “Do you remember Ring 3’s Great Purge?”

Lucifer nods. “Yes. Nearly a million casualties.”

“Yes, that. There was a witch then, injured and hanging onto life in the Abyss by a single tree branch. I saved her and in return she gave me this pouch. Rare seeds of a flower that grows beneath the deep depths of the seas, she’d said.”

Diavolo spills the seeds onto his palms. Brown and dry. Entirely unremarkable.

“They might grow here,” he says, rifling the seeds gently with a finger. “And if not then perhaps they might blossom in the greenhouse, in a more controlled environment.”

“The Abyss is quite far away from the stadium. What was she doing there?”

“She wasn’t there for the tournament. She’d snuck in.” Diavolo pours the seeds back into the pouch and draws it shut. “Her niece had married a vampire from Ring 3 and was being abused. She wanted to rescue her. A very messy business, really.”

“Did she succeed?”

“He was rich, she was not. But yes. After a long court case. I delivered the judgement myself.”

Lucifer watches him, sipping at his tea. “It is a good gift, indeed.”

Diavolo smiles at him, a soft steady thing that makes Lucifer’s chest tighten. “What about you? What are you giving him?”

“I do not know.” Lucifer hadn’t even thought of it yet. “Any suggestions?”

Diavolo looks thoughtful, sipping solemnly at his tea. “Music, perhaps. He’s been in a slump lately. I haven’t seen him with headphones in a while.”

Lucifer hums. “Has he found the man yet?”

“Yesterday. But he’s demanded a day to think it over.”

“I highly doubt he’d be willing to forfeit his life when the alternative is so beneficial.”

“Beneficial!” Diavolo laughs sharply. “I plan to wring him dry to the bones.”

Lucifer smirks. “I would hope so.”

Diavolo eyes the file Lucifer had brought over. He stretches a hand to slide it closer and flips it open. “What have you decided?”

“Art and Psychology clubs,” Lucifer says. “Negligible dent in the budget.”

“A new hire?” Diavolo reads off the file.

“Part-time, but someone passionate and willing. I was hoping the Art club might focus more on polishing rather than teaching.”

“Hmm.” Diavolo closes the file and stands. “I will read it later. Are you perhaps done with that?” he asks, eyeing Lucifer’s cup. “I’m all stiff from sitting here.”

Lucifer gulps down the last of his cold tea and follows suit. He collects their cups and the pot, sets them in the sink and washes his hands. When he turns Diavolo is halfway across the kitchen, and he gestures at Lucifer to follow.

Diavolo’s room is halfway across the castle, obscured by the many turns into many indistinguishable hallways leading to it. The prince walks five steps ahead of him. Lucifer doesn’t bother to catch up. The length of the journey seems entirely too short for the view his position grants him. Then another turn and the sight of the familiar room.

The moment Lucifer has crossed the threshold, Diavolo is on him. There are two soft clicks behind him. A sudden arm around his waist and a pair of beautiful golden eyes. Diavolo presses him backwards into the now-closed door and melds their mouths together.

“I missed you,” Diavolo whispers against his lips.

Lucifer tightens his grip around Diavolo’s nape, the tightness in his chest dissolving in a sudden surge, and pulls the man into a feverish, bruising kiss. Diavolo moans into his mouth, a soft, needy sound, and presses even closer. He rucks up the back of Lucifer’s shirt. His fingers as they press into the small of Lucifer’s back are warm from the tea. The shape of his hand, his arm, his hips as they grind against Lucifer’s, their lips pressed together and Diavolo’s tongue licking into his mouth. It all seems so deliberate, so calculated—as if Lucifer’s body had been given shape with Diavolo in mind. It leaves him breathless and gasping, unmoored and full of want.

He pushes off of the door, sweeping his tongue over the roof of Diavolo’s mouth exactly the way he likes, and manoeuvres their entangled figures backwards. When he pushes him onto the bed the prince goes easily, pliable with desire, heaving, golden laser eyes set upon him. Lucifer climbs on top of him. He traces a light touch up the side of Diavolo’s hips, over his pants, along the hem of the shirt, closer, closer. Diavolo’s breath quickens, his fingers digging into the mattress. Lucifer presses the heel of his hand against Diavolo’s crotch. The prince arches off the bed. Lucifer smirks.

He leaves late that evening. There’s a burn to his body that leaves a delicate trilling in his chest. He hugs Diavolo goodbye at the gate, presses his nose into his hair and breathes. Dangerous, a grainy echo in the back of his mind says. But his brain is addled, his body loose, with moonshine sheltering them from reality under her silver cape. Diavolo cradles his face between his hands and kisses him softly. Neither of them says anything.

The whole family is sprawled around the TV when he gets back. Mammon sits on the floor with a blushing Beel, teasing him about some tasty flying burger. He looks up as Lucifer walks in.

“Do you have a headache?” Lucifer pulls out the painkiller he’d picked up at the castle. “Take this.”

“Wha—I don’t have a headache.”

“Take it. Now.” On the table, there is a half-empty bottle of cola and several glasses. Lucifer picks up the closest to Mammon’s. “Is this yours?” 

Mammon nods, looking fed-up, and takes the glass from his hands. Lucifer watches him swallow the pill then nods. “Who’s making dinner?”

“I am,” Satan says, cracking his neck and getting up. “Levi, you have this downloaded, right? Send it to me, I’ll finish it later.”

“Do you need any help?” Lucifer asks.

“No!” Satan shoots him a disgusted look and hurries away to the kitchen, muttering under his breath.

Lucifer smothers a smile. The film playing on the tv is strange. A donut-shaped black hole and googly eyes to the rescue. A little intrigued, Lucifer watches for a while, unable to let go of his want for a shower to properly take a seat. Nobody asks him where he’s been. It’s not like he ever answers when it’s those days with Diavolo. 

Then, naturally, Asmo walks in. His hair is wet, there’s a sheen to his skin, and he brings in the scent of strawberry body wash with himself. Appearing a little distracted with his mildly uncooperating hair he’s halfway into the room before he catches sight of Lucifer. He stops short then, his champagne eyes connecting with Lucifer’s. He tracks a slow look over the length of Lucifer’s form. A queer leer overcomes his eyes. Lucifer’s mood plummets.

“Hello, Lucifer…” Asmo coos, uncooperating hair forgotten now. “What naughty things have you been upto today, hmm?”

Acid froths in Lucifer’s stomach. Scorpions. Lucifer will have scorpions dig out all of Asmo’s hair, strand by strand by strand. And then he will set that fucking strawberry body wash on fire. Recognising a losing battle when he sees one, though, Lucifer shoulders past the younger to his room, even though the action almost brings him physical pain. His ears ring and there’s a stubborn itch to his hands. It’s only the thought of a familiar pair of lips on his neck that placates his more murderous desires. Still, scorpions and the death of many fruit-flavoured body washes.

The rain dries up. Time resumes its steady pace. Three weeks pass. Lucifer spends his days at RAD; most nights in his room on video calls with Diavolo doing paperwork. Asmo doesn’t do more than trail conspicuous looks over him on Sunday evenings after Lucifer had pulled him aside the first week and growled his serious scorpion-related threat into his face.

On Saturdays, he coerces the whole family into an outing together. First week it’s a museum (Satan), second it’s a Starlets Heart concert (Levi), third it’s a new Sushi restaurant downtown (Beel). Two days before the fourth Saturday, the house bill arrives, falling a wide margin below the budget. In a good mood, he takes them to a flea market and lets them loose. They come back heaving bags of books, two dozen DVDs and cassettes, a carefully wrapped artisan table lamp, and many small plastic bags of poison noodles that Lucifer swears he wouldn’t touch if House of Lamentation’s roof itself were crashing down upon him.

On his part, he buys a shimmering golden keychain of a cat for Mammon. He spots another in green and buys that for Satan. Most of his time, however, is spent at the vinyl shop thumbing through their metal collection. 

“Something less known,” he tells the shopkeeper, “and heavy, if you will.” 

The man plucks forth many, first from the newer section then older, but none feel right. The gut feeling that he gets, that tilting sensation in his stomach at the precise pick remains absent. He pays for a collection of classical sitar pieces and a pop one that Asmo swears an oath for on his “beautiful and lustrous hair that demons kill for”.

“If I end up disliking it, I’ll cut two centimetres off of them then.”

Asmo gasps. He touches his hand to his chest in faux outrage and scurries off. Lucifer laughs and follows. On the way back, they stop the car at AkuDonald’s and get takeout. Then ditch the plan to eat at home when Beel breaks and starts breezing through his dozen burgers with big bites. He tells Mammon to park beside a decent food truck. They order more food for Beel, open the doors, switch on the light and eat in the car. Like a big chaotic family. Levi drops a couple drops of his drink on the seat. Mammon complains his head off. It’s nice. He hopes they do this again sometime.

Later at night, after he’s sure all of them have fallen asleep, he sneaks out to meet Diavolo at the castle. For a second he freezes, puzzled at his own actions. Sneaking out of his own house in the middle of the night like some lowly thief, is that what he’d come to now? But then he drops down onto the castle grounds, Diavolo catches sight of him through the kitchen window, and his eyes light up with sunshine. He presses a long kiss to Lucifer’s lips when they meet. All the embarrassment in the world then seems worth it in the face of such beauty.

They set up the record player in the living room and sprawl on the sofa with glasses of ice-cold hellberry Demonus. Asmo’s album ends up being a hit. Diavolo laughs when Lucifer pretends to pout about his missed opportunity at playing barber. For the last song, a gentle and sombre tune, Diavolo pulls him upright and insists they dance.

“Are you mad?” Lucifer asks rhetorically. Drunk and mobile was not a good combination, not even in the face of such good music.

“Come on,” Dia pleads. “For me?” 

His eyes are pools of drunken affection, his lips flushed from the Demonus. Lucifer melts. He pulls him closer and spins their entwined figures around the furniture. Diavolo presses a kiss to the side of his jugular and rests his forehead on his shoulder.

I love you.

The thought is soft, akin to the whisper of rain that mists the winds at the dawn of monsoon. A tide—lapping, curling, rising, sinking. It flows over him, instilling a slow, deep shock onto him. Love? But—

Diavolo raises his head. His eyes are kaleidoscopes of black and gold. His carmine hair, a riot on his head. He nudges their foreheads together, a loose smile on his lips. They continue to sway to the music.

The long notes of the violin, the delicate tinkling of the ganzá, the shrill and strong vocals of the choir. The music soothes the anxiety that Lucifer might have experienced if the revelation had come to him in private. Here, with candlelight casting darkness into the slopes of Diavolo’s face, their bodies pressed together, hearts and feet in sync, the thrum of Demonus in his veins loosening the bolts of the closed doors of his heart, Lucifer could almost give name to the feeling that scented the air around them.

Like home had inhabited a body and become a person.

Like he might have fallen in love.

Lucifer’s eyesight blurs. He tightens his hold around Diavolo’s waist.

Stupid, stupid, stupid—

Black moon Halloween, Diavolo’s birthday, some couple hundred years ago now, he’d gotten drunk. The alcohol had always flowed without inhibitions, but that day Lucifer had indulged without restraint. Why he had done so he struggled to remember now. The prince had booked the whole club for a more private celebration. That was the first time they’d danced together, to some pop-rock song that had come up and Lucifer had been too intoxicated to remember to keep his personal interests to himself. 

“I like this,” he remembered saying.

Diavolo had immediately suggested dancing, perhaps excited to see him excited, and Lucifer had agreed without hesitation, already up and moving. The lights had been dim, navy blue and familiar. There was a moment, a still of the night in his mind, of Diavolo with flashing blue on his skin, eyes bright with joy, smile so wide and toothed Lucifer had been left utterly mesmerised. Golden.

You absolute fucki—

Diavolo presses a kiss to his lips. His thumb rubs indiscernible circles over the exposed skin of his forearm. Lucifer’s thoughts trip. The music has stopped. Silence reigns. The low crackle of the fire is barely audible. They are still wrapped up together. Reality is starting to loom over Lucifer, his heartbeat rising in his chest. Diavolo stares at him with hooded eyes, more smart than anyone ever gives him credit for. Seeking, searching, asking.

He should have known that this beautiful man who loved waking up at pretentious hours to go jogging and got excited at the prospect of paintball would be the one Lucifer would end up surrendering his heart to. He should have fucking known.

Lucifer tilts his chin and kisses him, gentle and unhurried. He pours into it all his emotions, nameless and gargantuan, trying to spell all the words that never make it past his throat. There’s always so many of them.

Diavolo smiles against his lips. He whispers something but Lucifer doesn’t catch it. He’s busy tracing the incline of the other’s cheekbones with his fingers, the flesh of his cheek, the curve of his ears, the sharp of his jawline. There’s an urgent need budding inside him, to savour, to consume, to take and perhaps, perhaps keep as well. It slithers through his body, golden and ablaze, and takes root somewhere deep, deep within him. Dia kisses him greedily, reflecting and reciprocating tenfold. His hands, looped around Lucifer’s waist, slide lower to cup his arse and grind their hips together. 

“Fuck,” Lucifer gasps against Diavolo’s grinning mouth.

They stumble over the little side table and fall onto the sofa. There are strings of saliva between their lips, teeth clacking, nails scraping against scalps.

Lucifer tears his hands through Diavolo’s tight shirt and presses his lips to the feverish skin. It’s not enough. It’s never enough. Lucifer wants to fuse into him; crack his skin and bathe in him; meld their souls and mouths together for eternity. He wants to reach out, beyond skin and sinew, and press his lips straight to his heart.

He pulls him closer then; infinitely, impossibly closer. If he didn’t, he might disappear, his prince, his home. Like Lilith did, for forever.

Hold him, the deep grief in his body sings, tender and mournful like moonlight as he makes love to his prince, as long as your touch doesn’t scar him. Like it has everything else.

It is late morning when Lucifer awakes. The air is scented with hell jasmine and grapefruit. Diavolo lays asleep beside him on his stomach, a curved elbow obscuring half his face. Lucifer watches him, the red of his hair against the dark covers, the folds of skin at his neck, the gold-tipped horns, and the folded-back wings.

They’d never fucked through the night before. Even on days when they lost track of time, Lucifer would always leave. But last night something tangible had been shattered. A thread that he had been holding onto so desperately had slipped from his grip. The thought of leaving had never occurred to him during the entirety of yesternight. All he’d wanted was to touch Diavolo and employ his mouth over every dip and rise of his body. He’d wanted to feel him and breathe him and hear his own name slip from his swollen lips like fog in winters. He had scooped himself hollow and poured it over the other’s body.

Diavolo’s eyes flutter once, twice, then peel open, golden and hazy, a thousand miles away yet so near.

They hadn’t just fucked last night. They had made love.

Now as Lucifer watches the sleep desert Diavolo’s eyes slowly, a sour, putrid feeling corrugates in his gut. What had he done? He knew better than this; knew better than to hope for a happy ending. The arrows of grief hope hid underneath its veil, he knew them intimately. What could he say?

Today as you look at me with eyes warm and gentle, all I can give thought to is the control you possess over me. My sister was murdered and I’m bound to you for eternity. I feel infinitely more myself with you. Do you love me because you can control me or is this connection between us real? Your presence stabilises my being. I’ve known you for so long now but my wounds have never healed. I love you. I fear the power you possess over my family.

Lucifer stumbles out of bed. His vision swims. His heart beats deafeningly in his ears. The air tastes like torn-up soil and rotten feathers. There’s a moon over his head and his sister’s blood is on his hands. He reaches out to grasp the armrest of the sofa, steadies himself. Chesterfield. Striped. His hands will leave behind a bloody imprint on it. One more thing he’s ruined now. One more apology to make. One more guilt to carry. Breathe. His eyes open. He’s naked. Disgust makes his knees shake.

A warm hand settles over his spine. Lucifer flinches away. Diavolo freezes. “Don’t!” Lucifer growls out, his throat aching. Hollow eyes. Beautiful; dying. She’s choking on blood. What have you done? He has to save her, he has to protect—

“Lucifer, what’s wrong? Where are you—”

He stomps his way out. Every step makes his body quiver; a barbed knot in his sternum that paints his insides charcoal. It is only his memory and sense of direction that leads him to the living room. Their clothes are strewn around from last night. Lucifer switches into his human form and dons his. After a moment, Diavolo pads in behind him, dressed in plain white briefs. 

“Where are you going?” he asks.

“Home,” Lucifer says, slipping into his shoes and zipping up his pants.

Diavolo clasps onto his arm. “What is it? Was it something I did? Or said? Tell me, Lucifer!”

Lucifer looks at him. There is puffiness beneath the other’s eyes that he hadn’t seen before. By the bridge of his nose, there is a tiny spot, a budding pimple. On his jaw, Lucifer can see the traces of slight stubble. All he wants at that moment is to kiss him.

“We won’t be seeing each other again,” he says, holding eyes with the prince.

A crack appears across Diavolo’s face. He’s so clever, so magnificent. Better than the most soothing symphonies and stronger than the hardest of rains. Diavolo raises his hand, hesitates, and then cups Lucifer’s jaw. Lucifer allows himself to lean into the touch, for his eyes to slip close; to savour it, this last time. Diavolo searches his face, his beautiful eyes fraught with despair, glistening. “I thought you wanted this,” he says.

Lucifer pulls away, his heart breaking. “I thought so too.”

Diavolo doesn’t stop him again.

Lucifer leaves.

[sparrowrye]

Demi Demon || Alastor x Reader, A2 part 3

Synopsis: It’s been over a year since we were brought under Alastor’s watchful eye. We’ve unlocked our Demonic powers, discovered our own talents, and began building the Safe Haven with Charlie and co. Alastor seems increasingly interested in the power we hold as one and intends to use it properly.

Previous part

Part 3: a reporter

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A loud knock came at the door. Spencer looked up from the article on his desk. His eyes glanced at the little clock that read 11:00pm. It was typical for his 'anonymous' parties to pay him a visit around this hour.

His office was an old storage room. The building a manger had been nice enough to move most of the stuff out of the room and allow him to set up his office and print shop. His printing machine was in the back corner and piles of new and old newspapers were all over the place. A small fire place had been roughly dug out of the concrete wall and did little to help keep the place warm.

He turned the old radio to a music channel, the Radio Demon's typical broadcast having ended, and went to the door. Once he invited the anonymous party in, he would turn the volume up so no eavesdropper could overhear.

He opened the door to a dark, red coat. His eyes trailed up the red and white lines, his blood running cold when he reached their face. Staring down at him was the none other than the Radio Demon. Spencer's knuckles had turned white from gripping the door handle.

"Greetings Mr. O'Connor. Might I have a word with you?" Alastor said.

"O-Of course." Spender stepped the side and held the door open. Alastor's eyes scanned the room as his cane tapped loudly on the floor. "I-I wasn't expecting you. I would have tidied the place up."

"No need. I don't intend to stay for long." Alastor stood by the fire and turned to face the small man. His eyes were wide and locked on Alastor, not noticing the darkening of the shadows in the corner of his office. I stayed covered with illusions and shadows combined, watching and listening.

"What could the famous Radio Demon want from me?" Spencer asked. He joined Alastor by the fire but kept a safe distance. His figure was as small and narrow as his horns hiding underneath his flat hat. He wore cuffed pants, black boots, and a long sleeve button up he always had rolled past his elbows. He scratched the scruff on his chin and shifted uncomfortably.

"It's my understanding you're under the threat of losing your job. Is that correct?" Alastor asked. Both claws rested still on his cane.

"Well, if you mean the mayor wants to switch to digital, then yes. Paper isn't really popular these days."

"I understand quite well. The digital era is trying to smother its predecessors. But I intend to ensure that doesn't happen. I believe you can be of assistance."

"Me? How?" Spencer's fear had melted most of the way. Was the Radio Demon asking him for help?

"There is a project on my hands." Alastor started walking. I watched as he circled Spencer, a tactic he used on everyone. "You know of the trouble Demons are in, as well as Full mage Humans. There is a Safe Haven for the persecuted. And I need someone I can count on to spread the word."

He walked past Spencer to stand in his original spot, careful to walk close enough that their sleeves almost touched. Spencer knew what he was asking of him. He wanted him to use his personal print machine to write articles about this Safe Haven and post them everywhere. But that brought many dangerous with it.

"If you don't mind me asking, sir, why won't you do it? Surely you can reach a larger audience than me." He tapped his fingers together as the Radio Demon turned to face him.

"That is precisely why I'm looking for you to do it instead. This Safe Haven is nowhere near ready to be widely known. It needs more time to build and establish itself before it's many enemies discover it. This is to be a gradual reveal."

I heard Alastor's shadow chuckle in my ear. Only I could see it's red eyes open slightly to look at me. I felt Alcine, my own shadow, protectively cover my side closest to it.

"Well...I would love to assist you of all people, but I'm afraid I don't have the finances for it."

"That is something I will take care of." Alastor's smile widened.

"Right. Well...uh..." Spencer dragged two chairs from his desk to the fireplace. "It would uh...it would be tricky. And dangerous, for me especially." He went behind his desk to retrieve a bottle of whiskey.

"I've seen how you work," Alastor sat in one of the chairs, "I've seen you shapeshift into others to get what you need. I've seen the lengths you've gone to get a story. This task is something you could handle."

Spencer paused in pouring the second drink. "How long have you been watching me?"

"Some time."

"Oh...well...the stakes would be much greater. Especially for such a controversial and touchy subject," he said. Alastor motioned for me. "I could have enemies using me to get to this Safe Haven. Or they could simply ensure I stop publishing it." He finished pouring the last glass.

He closed the bottle and turned around, his feet freezing when he saw me standing beside Alastor's chair. I was in my Demon form and my shadow's edges were as sharp and janky as Alastor's. He didn't move for a long minute, eyes jumping between the two of us.

He cleared his throat. "I-I'm sure I could find a way."

Alastor accepted the drink but I declined, watching the small man try to sit in the chair without taking his eyes off me. A moment ago he had gotten somewhat used to Alastor's presence and now he was back to a rigid posture and stammering over his words. Had my presence really effected him?

"Excellent!" Alastor rested his foot on his knee. "Then let's get down to business."

****

I dove off the cliff and glided down to the beach. I slammed into the closest teenager and sent the group sprawling away from the jagged rocks in the water. They immediately got up and fought again. They were kicking up dirt and the kids were trying to jump out of the way.

The boy was clawing at Reagan who was desperately trying to run. His claws were razor sharp and slicing through her clothes. She already had dozens of marks across her skin. A Demon girl rammed her thick horns into his chin and tried to shove him away. He just took her with him and kicked her into the cold ocean.

He lunged for Reagan again but I caught him midway. His claw caught my nose as I slammed my body into his side. I planted my feet and made myself bigger as a Demon. His eyes widened and he scrambled back.

My eyes opened to the dim fire. My neck hurt from the strange position it had fallen into, my book flat on the ground seemingly waking me up, and the room itself was casted in a dim light. I yawned as I picked up the book. I set it on the chair and sauntered outside to the edge of the cliff. I sat with my legs hanging over and took a deep breath of the salty air. I remained there for what felt like eternity, focusing on neither anything or nothing.

"You seem upset."

I knew Husker was walking up to me long before he said anything. I kept my eyes on the cresting waves and pending rainstorm. I was wearing a coat since the temperatures were dropping for the fall season.

"I think that's the most you've said to me in weeks," I retorted. I heard him wince.

"I thought maybe you were happy with the way things were going." He sat down beside me and let his legs dangle over the edge. "What's wrong?"

As hurt and angry as I was with him neglecting me, I had been dying to speak my mind to someone. I certainly wasn't about to talk to Charlie or anyone new about my issue.

"He's using me again. I'm just a puppet for him to control, a tool to use. I wasn't part of that conversation. I was just there to make the guy say yes."

"What conversation?"

"We met an old newspaper reporter. Alastor and Charlie think it's smart to advertise the haven through paper articles."

"Ah," he nodded, "but...I mean this in the kindest way, but why would Alastor need you to get the guy to say yes? We both know he can convince anyone."

"I don't know. But he waited before telling me when to come out of the shadows. The guy was more willing to do it once he saw me. And Alastor smiled at me, too. Like one of his evil smiles."

"Hmm." Husker leaned on his legs and tapped his heels into the harsh stone. "That does seem strange. Maybe you—"

My ears twitched and my head jerked away. I locked my eyes on the group of kids on the beach. Three teenagers were fighting dangerously close to the sharp rocks. The little kids were yelling and Vivian was trying to break up the fight.

I dove off the cliff and glided down to the beach. I slammed into the closest teenager and sent the group sprawling away from the jagged rocks in the water. They immediately got up and fought again. They were kicking up dirt and the kids were trying to jump out of the way.

The boy was clawing at Reagan who was desperately trying to run. His claws were razor sharp and slicing through her clothes. She already had dozens of marks across her skin. A Demon girl rammed her thick horns into his chin and tried to shove him away. He just took her with him and kicked her into the cold ocean.

He lunged for Reagan again but I caught him midway. His claw caught my nose as I slammed my body into his side. I planted my feet and made myself bigger as a Demon. His eyes widened and he scrambled back.

"What is going on?" I demanded, looking between everyone here. Vivian was helping Reagan sit up and checking her wounds. I wiped my bleeding nose with my sleeve.

The other girl stood from the waves to join us, drenched and dripping. "He was taunting her."

"I was not!" he claimed. He backed further away before standing.

"He was!" she said. "He was telling her anyone could beat her because she didn't have any magic."

I looked briefly at Reagan before turning to the boy. He was new, a fighter from one if the recent rings we had saved.

"It wasn't meant to be taken seriously," he tried.

"Think next time, then," Vivian snapped. She was still in her Human form but the look she was giving made anyone anxious to be in her sight. "You're both from the rings. Did you really think it wasn't going to start a problem?"

"Well it did," I interjected, "and it won't happen again." I pointed a claw at the boy. "You're new enough to have heard our rules about no fighting." Next I pointed at Reagan and the girl. "And you've both been here long enough to know why we don't allow it."

They both dipped their heads.

"Come on." Vivian helped Reagan to her feet. The two girls walked past the boy and would be paying our new healer a visit.

I gathered the younger children and walked them back up to the top. The adults were quickly finishing another building before the rain came in. I made sure each child was back in their hut, safe and cozy. I had just finished when Reagan walked out of Althea's hut. The scratches were all gone but her face showed she still had some adrenaline still in her.

"Are you alright?" I asked her. She motioned to my nose but I passed it off. It had dried by now and it was only a nick.

"I'm sorry." She held onto her own arms. Her friend put a hand on her back.

"I understand why you did it." I touched her shoulder. She had revealed to me in prior conversations about the other teenagers poking fun at her magicless abilities. "But remember, fighting is easy. But not everyone can outwit someone with words."

"Right." She didn't sound too convinced. I walked with her and her friend to their hut and watched them walk in as the rain began to fall. Everyone disappeared into the safety of their warm, well lit shelter.

Husker invited me to join him and the others but I denied. I wasn't really feeling up to the socializing. I never was, though. I always felt out of place when I was with that group. I didn't feel a part of it.

I slowly made my way up the hill. I let the rain dot my clothes until it was all one dark color. I tilted my face to the sky and felt the wet grass sticking to my feet. I loved the feeling of rain. Everything smelled so earthy and fresh, so alive. I felt connected to it all, like I was meant to be here.

My joyful mood dropped when I opened my eyes. Alastor waited under the safety of the porch, cane in hand. I probably looked like a mess compared to him, always looking pressed and perfect.

"What?" I growled as I climbed the steps.

"Must there always be a reason?"

"There always is with yo—"

His hand covered my eyes and pulled me back. I felt the tingle of magic on my nose and froze. When he pulled his hand off I touched the smooth skin. I felt his presence past my shields again but this time was different. It felt as if he was searching for something.

I plucked his hand off and walked inside.

****

"It's been awhile since we've chatted. How's it been?" Rosie asked, taking a sip of the warm tea. She and Alastor were sitting in the private room of her store.

"She hasn't made any progress in the connection." Alastor was leaning back into the chair and running a hand over his face.

"You mean you haven't made any progression."

"Excuse me?" A red eye snapped up to her.

"Alastor, darling, she has to want to be around you. You have to be somewhat pleasant to be around."

"I'll do no such thing," he growled.

"Then the connection will remain weak." She took another sip.

He let out a sigh. "I don't know how to turn her around. She has nothing but anger and hatred for me. I can feel it."

"Then be the gentleman you are. She's the only one I've seen you treat in such a way. You treat Mimzy and I so much better than her and she's your soulmate, my dear."

"She's annoying."

Rosie laughed. "I'm sure she thinks the same thing of you."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Note:

Ooooh boy. Welcome OC Spencer!

I may or may not be procrastinating the development of the feelings arc. I'm a little nervous if y'all will like how I write it. I'm so grateful to all of you who've been following along since the beginning, reading each and every post of mine. <3

[jumping-joey1104]

EJ HCs with s/o that works as a mortician ⚰️ plz? Don’t have to if ya don’t wanna. EJ is amazing and my fav since I was like 11!!

Ooooh! Hehehehe 😎

Eyeless Jack with Mortician S/O

I’ll be honest, he doesn’t know how to react. He was a completely normal human before… everything. Even then he couldn’t really understand the fascination with dead.

He’s a messy eater but he doesn’t play with his food, that’s rude.

Also this made me go on a whole hyperfixation on morticians so thank you for that. I have learned.

Ok, I’d like to think that you’ll first meet Jack when he breaks into the morgue. He doesn’t exactly understand the embalming process so he thinks that there’ll be a biohazard area where morticians such as you would put the intestines into.

Imagine the disappointment when he finds out this doesn’t happen, now he’s stuck in a morgue with half frozen bodies and the silent alarm going off.

Luckily for him you’re just getting to clock in, looking around to find the intruder. The place is quiet like usual, being a morgue there's always an eerie feeling. But something is different this time, you have a feeling you're not alone.

You try to push off the uneasy feeling and blame it on the normal excuses. The bodies less than ten feet away from you, the smell of embalming fluid and candles, even the crucifix affixed above the doors. Maybe that's where the feeling of being watched is coming from. Turning around would make you see the wooden sculpture staring at you, with disappointment or pride you'll never know and to be honest… or wouldn't care.

When you wheel out one of the newer cadavers and read his file you still feel that stare, this time blaming it on the body on the table. You think you would've gotten used to this but apparently not yet.

That is until you hear a click, like someone smacking their teeth. It makes you freeze and look around but you couldn't see the source of the sound. Until you look towards the closet door opened just a crack. That's where the staring is coming from.

You don't know whether or not you need to call the police, you did turn off the alarm and that was the first mistake you made. Suddenly being put into a horror movie as a pale grey hand snakes around the edge of the door with what seems like claws to be at the end. If you had any thoughts of running it's quickly snuffed as its clear that you’re not dealing with a human.

But the being doesn't reveal himself, instead only his hand stays holding onto the door as if to prevent you from opening it. He's trapped just like you are, another click coming from him as the sound of a stomach growling comes from the closet.

He's hungry, and his hand is reaching toward the counter next to the closet…

If you were scared before it's starting to dwindle as he blindly tries to grab at a notebook and pen on the counter. Knocking over things like a clutz before grabbing the counter. He still thinks you're working on the body, being blind, and the smell of formaldehyde makes it hard to track you.

He pulls the notebook into the closet for a few seconds before setting it back on the counter with writing on it. The writing is horrible and you can barely make out the words but it seems like a bad threat. Asking for organs or he’ll kill you.

And that's how it all starts.

He sneaks to your work while your clocked in now, not wanting to get caught like the first night. Despite the threat of loosing your job you sneak the unimportant organs from the cadavers to him and in exchange you gain a protector.

It takes weeks before he talks to you and even longer till he shows himself, it's scary at first but he still has that flair of humanity that makes you warm up to him. The fact that you're not scared of him makes him feel safer around you.

It's a morbid balance but neither of you cares, you're relationship becomes 50/50. He cares for you and protects you and you feed him and keep him hidden from the public eye.

[lostneedcoopcake]

12 Clocks

My entry for this week's @flashfictionfridayofficial ! It's been a long time since I wrote, so hope you like it! Word count: 979

When I went to my grandparents’ house, I always liked to sit at my grandfather’s office, decorated by hundreds of books above a warm fireplace. A comfy sofa was always there, waiting for me to sit on. I picked a book from the library and read it. It should feel lonely, being the only person in a huge room, sitting by the only light in the whole house. Well, there was an old hall clock across the fireplace, its constant ticking keeping me company. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. There were no distractions when it was noon or midnight, or nine or three or six o’ clock. Just the company of old, creaking wood, cogs rotating in it, telling the time to someone who was losing the feeling of time quite often.

I wonder whether it was chance or I was meant to pick up that book right above the fireplace. The moment I picked it up and was about to sit down, a bookmark slipped from its pages, just enough to show me the page it was resting on. I flipped the book at the page, finding drawn clocks on the pages. 12 clocks, drawn in various sizes on the paper with brown – or perhaps black that turned into black – ink, all telling different times. All of them being on different hours. I immediately, perhaps instinctively, turned towards the hall clock across the fireplace. I approached it and started looking for something. Nothing, at first. I took out my phone and shed its flashlight on the wooden body. The number “11” was marked on it. There was a clock drawn with the time telling 11:36. I turned to page 1136, which existed in the 1200 pages book I was holding and, to no surprise, saw words marked with the brown ink. “Knock on the wood 11 times and go to the attic.” read the words combined. Well, it was 17:45, so I had to wait until the time is right – that being 23:36 – so I can act this oddity.

In the meantime, I looked for the time of the 6 o’ clock clock. 6:18. That was much nearer, although I really wanted to see what was the hall clock hiding. Going to page 618, it read: “Lift the clock and shake it twice up and down and four times left and right. Blow the dust it has and go to the kitchen.”. So it was a small clock I had to find and rather fast in the large house that was housing more clocks than I initially thought it had. So, there I was, running around like a moron, looking at every easily pickable clock while taking with me all the numbered ones I could find. Those were clocks 2, 4, 8, 10 and 12 aside from clock 6. At 18:12, I managed to find the clock numbered “6”, a rather small, cream colored clock with intricate designs on. It seemed like it had fruit and pans on, although time had corroded its designs. I waited the few minutes remaining, using them to catch my breath and put down the other clocks. I acted the instructions and heard something falling inside of the clock. Going to the kitchen and leaving it on the counter activated some sort of spring, which made me jump and drop some plates. Slowly, I approached where the sound came from. A single drawer had jumped out with nothing more than a very fancy set of cutlery. I took it out and set it on a table. Antique, probably dating the 1800s.

The rest of the clocks followed a similar pattern, the even numbered clocks being small ones that included some sort of shaking in their instructions – although 8 had to be thrown on a wall until it broke – and the odd numbers being large clocks, hiding something inside their large bodies of wood, metal and glass – 9 was pure glass and had to use its reflections to find the object. All clocks were leading to an antique object in different locations, themed by the rooms they were found in. At last, it was time for the 11th clock to be examined. I looked at the objects that I had placed on the table, wondering if I’d ever get to 1, 2, 3, 4 and 5. It did not matter, perhaps, only finding out what was the 11th hour hiding from me. At exactly 23:36, I knocked on its old wood 11 times. A small cog was seen stopping at the last knock and a key fell.

I took the key and went to the attic. In it was a very well lit table, a door and a clock, stopped at time 12:04. The room had multiple clocks in it, far from the light. I sat on the chair and, following the orders of the previous even numbers, I shook the clock. From one shake, a paper slipped through, tied in a crimson ribbon. I opened it, reading: “To whoever comes across this,

Hope you liked the treasure hunt in my house! Mary, my wife, gets quite annoyed finding random objects while cleaning, but I love making surprises when I help her around! For the guests and the family, of course. They always thought I was a magician, but, oh, what’s the greatest magic than a journey you went through? These treasures aren’t so valuable, they may be one day, but use them as you wish! And worry not for missing some hours, a broken clock says the time correctly twice. Unless you don’t want to find the objects, well where’s the fun of it, no? I do wonder, what else am I hiding? What did old me make again to keep you around and wonder not only of the journey of treasures, but the journey of your life, your treasure, too? Cheers, Grandpa John.”

[believed2beseen]

CATCF West End vs Broadway (soundtrack) - Act 2

I think this needs no introduction outside of this being a followup from my previous post. As different as Act 1 seems from the transition from West End to Broadway, you'd think that Act 2 would be a little more consistent right? You'd think wrong. So with further ado let's start off with

1. Strike That, Reverse It!

Easily one of the funnest songs in the musical, and thank GOD this one stuck throughout all renditions. It delves more into the Wonka character we know from the books; erratic, squirrel-like, wisecracking and overall and unashamedly giddy. That being said, I'd have to give this to the West End version. Douglas Hodge being the main reason why, yes, but also some jokes are just plenty better within it (LOVE that Veruca wart joke they had as a nod to the 2005 film)

2. Simply Second Nature/Pure Imagination

Between the two, Simply Second Nature is another one of the musical's weaker songs that are lyrically dense, but melodically empty, perhaps even moreso than Don'cha Pinch Me Charlie. But that being said....Simply Second Nature is a song that NEEDS to be heard. It's SUCH a beautiful song that delves into Wonka's mind and why he does what he does. To add fire to the flame, Douglas Hodge states that he made Wonka intentionally autism coded and good lord good LORD does it show here so well. Without this song, the message of the musical in its entirety weakens. Simply Second Nature GOD how I love you

That and. Pure Imagination's inclusion here feels so forced compared to where West End originally put it and the "Grandpa Joe" part ruins it for me. And THIS is where I start scratching my head as to why the ticket winners are singing along.

3. Auf Weidersczhen Augustus Gloop

Just for the intro alone, I'll go with Broadway's version. YES I hate the Oompa Loompa songs from the 71 film but they were VERY smart in just having it be an intro song and leitmotif throughout the rest of them, much like how Danny Elfman did the songs for the 2005 film.

4. Juicy/When Willy Met Oompa/You Get What You Want

EASILY Juicy. I genuinely had no clue what they were thinking making the Oompa origin story Violet's "song", and YGWYW is just a weaker version of Juicy. Dare I say Juicy is probably the only Musical!Oompa song that tops its version in the 2005 film

5. Veruca's Nutcracker Sweet

West End. I get Dahl was dark but like??? What happened on Broadway. That kid is fucking dead.

6. Vidiots

Broadway. It's catchy! It's lyrics are pulled from Dahl's! It's....kind of annoying? I feel like I SHOULD like this song more than I do because of the two reasons above but eh it's the best of the bunch for sure.

7. Pure Imagination/The View From Here

Originally? I didn't like The View From Here much. I was used to the West End version and really didn't like how Pure Imagination got moved back to the Chocolate Room to make a new song at the end. But the more I listened to it, the more the song grew on me. It certainly has that catchy factor as much as I denied it, much like how I denied that Simply Second Nature isn't catchy enough. But alas...

I still give this one to Pure Imagination. I get that people associate the song with the Chocolate Room scene but It's inclusion in this scene fits a lot better here than it did on Broadway, and I mean. The IMAGINATION room.

The View From Here is admittedly a good song, one of the strongest originals; possibly even second place to It Must Be Believed to Be Seen, but lyrically? Wonka's just telling Charlie "You win my factory. You're a lil' odd, but look at these places below!" There's really not enough substance in it, which WOULD be okay if like, Simply Second Nature was still IN the musical, but of course we can't do a CATCF Musical without Pure Imagination, so without Simply Second Nature, this 11 o' clock number HAS to do some heavy lifting (pun not intended), and while View From Here is an applaudable attempt, it just isn't enough.

In an ideal world, Simply Second Nature would be rewritten to be a little catchier, or maybe The View From Here could incorporate themes from Simply Second Nature. I'm sure you could tell I'm ride or die for that song.

8. A Little Me/Strike That, Reverse It (Reprise)/The Candyman (Reprise)

Now THIS was what I think the UK tour's shining moment was. The Candyman being recontextualized to be not towards Wonka, but Charlie himself. Absolutely STELLAR move and oh my GOD the composition is so much stronger than the Broadway version's ("WHO CAN TAKE TOMORROWW/I CAN TAKE TOMORROW!!") Good LORD.

That being said, this only seems to work in context that Candyman has to exist elsewhere in the musical, and the UK Tour does this by putting Candyman in place of "If Your Mother/Father Were Here" which, while I think is charming, doesn't do it for me. IYM/FWH is a great song and while Candyman is too, I don't think that's as good a place as it being, as I mentioned earlier, a song the grandparents would sing in place of The Amazing Fantastical History of Mr. Willy Wonka.

That and...I never really liked A Little Me. It's cute, but forgettable...and as a song to be played after Pure Imagination/The View From Here? I don't think so

Now it seems that we're on the end of our journey, but of course I'm not gonna leave the closing numbers out. Broadway doesn't really have one? It's just Charlie whistling Candyman and the show ends like that. As for West End and the UK Tour...

9. It Must Be Believed to be Seen (reprise)/Almost Nearly Perfect (reprise)

Man this one's TOUGH. I LOVE how Wonka reveals himself to be the bum from the first act here AND just disappears into nothingness, but at the same time I adore Wonka singing Charlie's song in a final heartfelt moment. Honestly, why decide at this point? It's a tie. Each ending works for its own version of the story it wants to tell, and both do it INCREDIBLY.

And with THAT I end my comparisons on the soundtrack. I've got plenty more to yap about don't worry! Matter of fact I'll turn on my ask box rn and DMs are always welcome. I'd love people to talk to about this interest I've had essentially in hiding.

[traeuthaeou]

Founder Terry.

Terry Lee Kauffman Hawkins

Terry Lee Hawkins Jr.

traeuthaeou

ALLAHTREU TREUALLAH TRUE SCRAMBLED LANGUAGEOLOGIST

Founder Terry.

Terry Lee Kauffman Hawkins

Terry Lee Hawkins Jr

Blaze

Johns Hopkins Homewood Neighborhood in Baltimore, Maryland The prestigious and sprawling Johns Hopkins University campus in Homewood is home to tree-lined paths, traditional redbrick architecture, and a landmark clock tower. The campus features the Shriver Hall Concert Series and the Baltimore Museum of Art, as well as popular Wyman Park, Wyman Park Dell, and Stony Run Trail. The surrounding area has many taverns and casual eateries popular with students.

Terry Lee Kauffman Hawkins is feeling blessed with Terry Lee Hawkins Jr. 3 mins · Terry Lee Kauffman Hawkins is feeling blessed with Terry Lee Hawkins Jr. 11 mins · Terry Lee Kauffman Hawkins is feeling professional with Terry Lee Hawkins Jr. 1 min · Terry Lee Kauffman Hawkins 4 mins · RAVENDOVE Terry Lee Kauffman Hawkins was RavenDove - yin yin / yang RavenDove - yin yin / yang - COLD NUMB AND (LOVIEY DOVIEY) CALCULATED SPELL IT D or L Dove or Love maybe L or D Lover or Dover pythagorean numerology ABC123 Kauffman-Hawkins-Hawk or Hopk -H__kins aw or op and Hopkins signed Booper or just Boop not Book BUT LOKI OR BOOPER SAN with Blaze Pascal. with Terry Lee Hawkins ( male ) @ikigami shinigam HAWKINS HOKINSU/HOKINZU https://www.facebook.com/notes/terry-lee-kauffman-hawkins/bac-formula-racing-f3-series-bac-mission-statement/2296158727310875/ — feeling professional with Terry Lee Hawkins Jr. YES=Y=YES / NO=N=NO

Blaze

India, officially the Republic of India, is a country in South Asia. It is the seventh-largest country by area; the most populous country from June 2023 onwards; and since its independence in 1947, the world's most populous democracy. Wikipedia

Blaze

Johns Hopkins Homewood

Neighborhood in Baltimore, Maryland

Blaze

traeuthaeou

5m ago

YORK OR WORK HOSPITAL Y LETTER 15 W LETTER 23

The University of Maryland, Baltimore is a public university in Baltimore, Maryland, United States. Founded in 1807, it is the second oldest college in Maryland and comprises some of the oldest professional schools of dentistry, law, medicine, pharmacy, social work and nursing in the United States. Wikipedia

Avg cost after aid

––

Graduation rate

95%

Acceptance rate

––Graduation rate is for non-first-time, full-time undergraduate students who graduated within 6 years. They were the largest group of students (75%) according to the 2022–23 College Scorecard data ·more 

From US Dept of Education · Learn more

Address: 

620 W Lexington St, Baltimore, MD 21201

Address: 620 W Lexington St, Baltimore, MD 21201

Phone: (410) 706-3100

Blaze

0 notes

Blaze

0 notes

Blaze

0 notes

traeuthaeou

2m ago

ALLAH STEP ONE .. GOD TO ALL THOSE PEOPLE NOT A TWELVE STEP LETTER A TO L PROGRAM AT JOHNS HOPKINS AND GOD OR DOG . CHIP HOUSE HUOJINSEN YOU AN ADULT I AM REPORTING TO YOU. H O U S E - H U O J I N S E N . HAWKINGSON TERRY LEE - SOBRIQUET BOOPER BOOPPER THEOS LOKI TEREMY

Terry Lee Kauffman Hawkins

is with

Terry Lee Hawkins Jr.

May 9 at 4:48 PM

·

Terry Lee Kauffman Hawkins is feeling blessed with Terry Lee Hawkins Jr. 3 mins · Terry Lee Kauffman Hawkins is feeling blessed with Terry Lee Hawkins Jr. 11 mins · Terry Lee Kauffman Hawkins is feeling professional with Terry Lee Hawkins Jr. 1 min · Terry Lee Kauffman Hawkins 4 mins · RAVENDOVE Terry Lee Kauffman Hawkins was RavenDove - yin yin / yang RavenDove - yin yin / yang - COLD NUMB AND (LOVIEY DOVIEY) CALCULATED SPELL IT D or L Dove or Love maybe L or D Lover or Dover pythagorean numerology ABC123 Kauffman-Hawkins-Hawk or Hopk -H__kins aw or op and Hopkins signed Booper or just Boop not Book BUT LOKI OR BOOPER SAN with Blaze Pascal. with Terry Lee Hawkins ( male ) @ikigami shinigam HAWKINS HOKINSU/HOKINZU https://www.facebook.com/notes/terry-lee-kauffman-hawkins/bac-formula-racing-f3-series-bac-mission-statement/2296158727310875/ — feeling professional with Terry Lee Hawkins Jr. YES=Y=YES / NO=N=NO

Blaze

0 notes

Blaze

0 notes

Blaze

0 notes

Enoch Pratt Free Library

4.6301 Google reviews

Public library in Baltimore, Maryland

Website

Directions

Reviews

Save

Share

Call

Description

The Enoch Pratt Free Library is the free public library system of Baltimore, Maryland. Its Central Library is located on 400 Cathedral Street and occupies the northeastern three quarters of a city block ... Wikipedia

Departments: Maryland State Library for the Blind and Print Disabled

Address: 400 Cathedral St, Baltimore, MD 21201

Architect: Edward Lippincott Tilton

Hours: 

Open ⋅ Closes 8 PM · More hours

Opened: 1882

Phone: (410) 396-5430

Branches: 22

Director: Chad Helton, President and CEO

Johns Hopkins Homewood

Neighborhood in Baltimore, Maryland

Blaze

0 notes

Post by @traeuthaeou · 1 link

💬 0  🔁 0  ❤️ 0 · YC COMMON WEALTH BFC $73,364,465,551,328,263 Private of Market Bank of York County Global World Bank. · 💬 0  🔁 0  ❤️ 0 · YC

Tumblr

64.media.tumblr.com

64.media.tumblr.com

64.media.tumblr.com

Blaze

0 notes

Enoch Pratt Free Mission Statement | Facebook

I find my part time hourly work online at the library online vibing to tunes music or songs maybe to just enhance focus and clear distraction doing my work

www.facebook.com

blaze8403

Reblogged

Aug 11, 2020

blaze8403

May 14, 2019

Enoch Prattの無料ミッションステートメント/Enoch Pratt no muryō misshonsutētomento | Facebook

Enoch Prattの無料ミッションステートメント テリー・リー・カウフマン・ホークス・木曜日、2018年12月6日 私は自分�

www.facebook.com

Blaze

0 notes

[immortalmsmoon]

HEHRHRGRGRGEGRGRR

i loved the Yusuke and talk reader!!!!!

Do you mind if i request another for Yusuke???

If not, Yusuke w a reader/ S/O who started to make him lunches after noticing he hasn’t been eating much after the Madarame incident </3 poor boy :’[

Yusuke x Reader who makes lunches for him

A/N: this is so cute!! Thank you so much for requesting!!

Warnings: a little bit of talk about trouble eating, nothing to major though.

Wordcount: 469

the first time you give him one, he feels so special

even when he was with Madarame, Yusuke was the one feeding himself

the fact that you would put so much effort in to making sure he was eating made him so happy

he sits there with a small smile, his cheeks dusted in pink

After the Madarame incident, Yusuke really started to struggle with food because he no longer had someone to provide for him. he was also having trouble figuring out if he should spend his little money on art supplies or food, which caused his situation to get even worse

the fact that you noticed makes his heart feel like its about to burst, in the nicest way possible :)

It had been a week since Madarame had turned himself in. You knew Yusuke was taking it terribly. You could tell. Its not like it was hard to see.

he seemed paler than usual, and his eye bags were deeper, darker. He seemed tired. Even when he was at school he was different. Usually he was so full of enthusiasm, eager to cover a blank canvas in colour and give it life. Now he sat on his wooden chair, his eyes just as blank as the canvas. You had tried to talk to him many times, tried to tell him you were always there, that he could always talk to you; but he would blow you off, saying things like "Im fine. you need not worry, my love". But you knew him better than that.

which is what leaded you to where you are now. You glance at the clock. Its 11 pm. you know you should sleep, but what's one sleepless night in comparison to all that Yusuke as gone through? sleep could wait.

a blue plastic bento box sat Infront of you, filled with various snacks and foods you new he enjoyed. As long as it took you to make everything, it was a lot of fun to make everything look cute.

the only part you were nervous for, was giving it to him.

The morning passes by in a blur, and soon enough, its time to give Yusuke his gift. You place yourself infront of his desk.

he looks up at you, eyes curious. you slowly pull out the bento box, before placing it on your side of the desk, then slowly sliding it over to his side.

"W-whats this?" he asks, eyes wide. as soon as he opens it he's met with a delicious sent, one that brings a smile to his face.

His cheeks are red, and his smile is large, larger than you've seen it in weeks. he reaches for your hand and gives it a squeeze.

"I love you, Yusuke." You whisper, squeezing his hand back.

"I love you more, darling" he whispers back.

[luci-z-wont-shut-up]

Hi hello

W H A T

Greetings all I am here because yesterday I made the objectively awful decision to start listening to the podcast series Malevolent. Now the "objectively awful" part is not in reference to the podcast itself but the fact that I made this decision at 11 O CLOCK AT NIGHT and didn't stop until almost 5 in the morning. So. Yknow. You can imagine how my day was at work.

Anyway I started this bc after flinging myself headfirst down the TMA rabbit-hole I wanted to pick something else up so that I wouldn't burn myself out on TMAGP too quickly (I'd like to think that I have at least somewhat of a handle on managing my hyperfixations by now), so I started WTNV but only got a few eps in bc its narration style is so chaotic (as evidenced by my #LucizbulliesCecil tag).

So as I was looking up crossover fanart and memes and what have you here on Tumblr, there were a surprising amount of contenders for the Venn diagram niche of Creepy-Weird Podcast With Some Kinda Freaky Eyeball Shit Going On, which I'm finding out is super duper totally my jam, and Malevolent seemed to be one of the most popular while also not having too many plot points spoiled (I am very All Or Nothing when it comes to Spoilers™️),

And HO-LEE SHIT GUYS I am

O B S E S S E D

I am h o o k e d

I am v i b r a t i n g there is so much happening all the time and it's terrifying and disgusting and I'm loving every second of it go give a listen it's insane

Anyway said all that to say I will NOT be documenting/liveblogging my Malevolent journey the way I plan to with TMAGP and Nightvale, B U T I will probably still make maybe-spoilers reaction posts here every once in a while, so. Heads up 👍

[sunnydaleherald]

The Sunnydale Herald Newsletter, Tuesday, September 17

Angelus: And this... this is the garden. Drusilla: Wow! Look. Jasmine. Angelus: Night blooming. Drusilla: Like us. Oh, Angel, it's fairyland. Ooh! Spike: It's paradise. Big windows, lovely gardens. It'll be perfect when we want the sunlight to kill us. Angelus: If you don't like it, Spike, hit the stairs and go. Take a stand, man. Spike: Well, our old place was just fine till you went and had it burned down. Angelus: Things change, Spikey. You gotta roll with the punches. Well, actually, you pretty much got that part down, haven't you? Spike: Very funny, mate. Angelus: What can I say? I just love to see you smile, buddy. Spike: Yeah, you're a giver.

~~Buffy Episode #31: "I Only Have Eyes For You" ~~

[Drabbles & Short Fiction]

The Darkness and the Light (Anya Jenkins/Willow Rosenberg, G) by SirenOfTitan

Spoons (Angel/Spike, M) by MamaBewear

Wanking Up Alone (Faith Lehane/Buffy Summers, G) by b33n

What We Need (Angel/Spike, OC, M) by fatalfae

SLUMBER PARTY (Buffy, Willow, E) by KNZ1

I Called Him Mine (Angel/Spike, E) by MadeInGold

Divine Comedy in the Withering Heart (Angel/Darla, E) by CoffeeHunt

Yes, Mistress (Darla/Drusilla, E) by TheClowniestLivInExistence

Untitled (Buffy/Spike, unrated) by forevercaroline

Enjoying The Show (Spike, Willow/Tara, M) by Serena The Drama Queen

Cloudy With a Chance of Mischief (Buffy/Spike, E) by Maxine Eden, ClowniestLivEver

[Chaptered Fiction]

The Right Swipe Ch 8 (Buffy/Giles, E) by DancingAngel0013

Hello, Darling Ch. 6/9 (Buffy/Spike, M) by Spikelover4ever

Blood of Kings Ch. 4 (Ensemble, T, Young Royals xover) by LadyInBlackandWhite

Double Date Ch. 3 (Buffy/Giles, E) by Rippertish

If We Could Freeze Time CH. 42/64 (Buffy/Spike, E) by cosplayermadness

In the Company of Witches and Slayers: Ch. 158 (Willow/Tara, E) by VladimirHarkonnen (TheLightdancer)

Bring Me To Life : A Buffy the Vampire Slayer / Angel Crossover Event Ch. 70 (Buffy/Angel, unrated) by Jean_theGuardian

Soul Mate Magic - Chapter Four (Giles/OC, E) by emma-m-black

Welcome To Westworld CH. 75 (Ensemble, T) by Ninja Master

Do as Romans do Ch. 45 (Ensemble, T, French language) by OldGirl-NoraArlani

A Tumble in Time, Chapter 6 (Buffy/Spike, T) by thedoppleganger

Forty-eight days in LA, Chapter 5 (Buffy/Spike, E) by Blissymbolics

Where Clocks Don't Tick, Chapter 9 (Buffy/Spike, M) by Willow91

Hope is the thing with feathers, Chapter 11 (Buffy/Spike, E) by will_

The Degradation of Duality [Series Part 2], Chapter 51 (Buffy/Spike, E) by Ragini

Because the Night, Chapter 10-11 (Buffy/Spike, E) by CheekyKitten

The Neighbor's Point of View, Chapter 131 (Buffy/Spike, ) by the_big_bad

Stiff Pole, Chapter 6 (Buffy/Spike, E) by scratchmeout

Oh My Goddess, Chapter 3 (Buffy/Spike, M) by Maxine Eden

It’s a Secret Ch. 4 (Xander, T, Harry Potter xover) by MsSunshine

Aim High Ch. 8 (Buffy, T, Stargate xover) by Buffyworldbuilder

[Images, Audio & Video]

Artwork:Buffy by RookBooks

Artwork:Buffy by nineinchnals

Artwork:Spike by forsuperbang

Artwork:Oz, Buffy by onedrawsoverthecuckoosnest

Artwork:Cordelia & Angel by artsying-ifer

Artwork:Venom Faith by goaskmalices

Artwork:Buffy & Willow by wooneygoblin

Artwork:Buffy by artofnicolle

Artwork:Buffy & Spike by o-cm-draw-o

Artwork: by o-cm-draw-o

Artwork:Buffy by bertolts

Manip:Episodic art for BtVS 2x22 “Becoming, Part 2. by revello-drive-1630

[Reviews & Recaps]

PODCAST: Episode 41 - Poor old Glove of Myhnegon, Begin Again (Revelations) by The Sunnydale Diaries

PODCAST: BTVS 602 - Bargaining, Pt. 2 by Another Buffy Podcast

[Community Announcements]

Tuesday Prompt: Weather by comment_fic

Is there a Buffy-verse fic idea you’ve been dying to read? Are you looking for inspiration for your next fic? Join us on AO3 or Dreamwidth! by buffyversekinkmeme

Join the Faith and Buffy Slayer Scissorfest Discord Server!

[Fandom Discussions]

today Him 7.06 was on and it got me thinking by aphony-cree

ive become such a spike apologist its terrible. by lesbianmarrow

buffy essentially conditioning spike like an animal to never believe what she says by nicollekidman

the point of Faith’s final scene in Salvage by coraniaid

ok i have some thoughts about cordelia and anya by electricabsolution

Jenny and Anya would have been such a good duo. by ohrevienssoleil

something about the scoobies all being slightly unhuman. by pinesorneedle

I am still baffled that people think Beer Bad is the worst episode of Buffy when episodes like Wild At Heart, Into the Woods, and As You Were exist. by paarthursass

i didn’t really get that whole attack dog relationship thing folks were posting about a few months ago but then by lesbianmarrow

There’s just something about Spike understanding Buffy when she’s not even able to articulate or understand (at the moment) that’s what she needs. by pinesorneedles

my post-chosen headcanon by comradesummers

Off the wall question! by Moptop

Going to meet the First Slayer by garfan

What was the episode where..... by Dufflepod

Ángel could Beat buffy? by FoxIndependent4310

Did Spike Not Watch Return of the Jedi? by matsu-oni

Cordelia by Disastrous-Zombie-25

S3 ep 13 by txn120

Best insult ever by BluePhotonOnMonday

Rewatching the show after being a caregiver by Lady_Audley

"Fool for Love" (B S5:E7) & "Darla" (A S2:E7) by Pyrefly79

Can we talk about how terrifying this guy is by StarsThatGlow

I loved Cordelia's style season early on in season 3. by pit_of_despair666

Love Letter (Buffy Version) by Ventenebris

Joyce and Spike by No-Jaguar8044

Fool for Love question on previous slayers by anthonycaruana

The Killer in Me by Competitive_Bank8725

For you, who is the best and worst antagonist in Buffy the Vampire Slayer? by murder_drone_V_N_Usy

Which opinion on the show would have you like this? by -Bi-Bi-Bi-

Slayers on Audible by Disastrous-Zombie-25

This is a point people ignore by foreseethefuture

Just wanted to quickly praise the 'vamp' makeup. by sKullsHavezzz

Best feats of Ilyria? by Glum_Local_1358

AtS Season 3 appreciation thread by jdpm1991

Best feat of spike by FoxIndependent4310

What would you think of a prequel series by CleanUpOnAisle10

Best feat of Ángel by FoxIndependent4310

So about Doyle by DevilManRay

Was Tara a good fit for Willow? by Accomplished-Emu2308

Why were the Monks stuck in the dark ages? by MonsterTournament

Some of my Buffy Opinions as a first time watcher by Business-Chair4961

Flowers at the Crawford St. Mansion? by Beneficial-End-7872

Do they ever say that Angel/Angelus is more powerful than your average vampire? by DevilManRay

Submit a link to be included in the newsletter!

Join the editor team :)

[vvatchword]

You've experienced a haunting? :O

Yeah. It's a long story. And it was a hugely formative part of my life. It's a reason I left Christianity and baffles me to this day.

I'm actually at a point where I can say you may have read or heard this somewhere because I posted it on reddit. Imagine how that went down.

Are you ready? Get a big ol' hot drink or something. I'm copy-pasta'ing this thing because it takes forever to do. At least it's more readable this way.

When I was 10, we moved to a new house in the country. A cozy, homey place, very comfortable; when i think of home, i think of it. I often miss it, and i like to imagine i will go back and buy it someday (lol Millennial nonsense).

That said, it was the oddest damn house. From what I understand, it had started life in a nearby town before being physically moved about six miles outside city limits. Someone then tacked on about 25% more house--i think the family who lived there before us did the work. I'm told it was some creative DIY. Anyway. They tacked on a new master bedroom and bath and extended the living room, then an enclosed, screened-in back porch.

My parents got the new master. My sister and i got the original master, behind which was this newer porch add-on. I have no idea why they added that porch because it made our room dark af all the time. The moon had to be large and set or rise at just the right times for us to get light in there at night.

A whole year passed very happily. We liked the house. But sometimes--about thirty minutes to an hour after my sister and I turned the light off in our room--something would start bumping in the attic. Big thump, thump, thumps, like someone with two peg legs stamping around in circles. My sister and i called this "the Thump Bumps." We'd make up whole stories about them. Honestly, I think if my unexplained experiences had remained this simple, I would have chalked it up as rats, which we definitely had.

The thing is, I've since dealt with rats, both wild and tame, and while it's not impossible for them to make such sounds--why constant circles? Why did it sound so heavy? If it were that heavy, you'd think the rat was jumping, and if it were jumping, you'd hear the answering "slap" of its tail. Also, rats have their own little lives to run; they're not automata. Why take enormous, bodily leaps in circles and circles in a steady, rhythmic pattern for two to three hours at a time?

But whatever. We weren't afraid. It was odd, not bad.

Stop Touching My Toys

Early summer rolled in. I had recently turned 11. I woke up suddenly one night. I heard someone doing dishes. Running water, dishes clinking against one another. It was black as sin--which meant someone was doing dishes in the dark. I glanced at my clock. 2 AM. O-kay. Well, i was thirsty, so i got up. Just as i reached the end of the hall--just as i turned the corner to the living room--the sound just cut off like someone had hit "stop" on a tape player. There was no squeak of the faucet handle being twisted or the stream slowing to a trickle or dishes being set down. The sound stopped mid-splash, mid-clink.

Complete silence.

Nervous now, but committed, i slinked into the kitchen. The sink was bone dry and everything clean. Why shouldn't it have been when we had finished all the dishes the night before? I still have a clear memory of the moonlight glinting off of the faucet. I didn't know what to think of it, but nothing seemed awry. I drank my water and went to bed.

I don't know how long passed, only that it was summer and Sunday. That morning, i had been playing with my toy dinosaurs, of which i had five--velociraptor, iguanodon, brachiosaurus, styracosaurus, and... i forget the last but it was an herbivore. I had lined them up on my bed very neatly before heading off to church. I was last out of the house because my dinosaurs were important business. Well, when we finally returned, my parents unlocked the door, and in we tromped: brother first, who turned into his room ahead of me, and me second.

I stopped right in the doorway and I felt real fear for the first time. My dinosaurs were no longer lined up on my bed, but scattered across it, like they had been played with. One was lying under the bed; one was lying halfway under my pillow; one was lying at the foot of the bed. Worst of all, my velociraptor had been jammed together with the iguanodon, like they were locked in battle.

This one bothers me a lot because it's scary no matter how I interpret it. If it wasn't spirit shenanigans--it was human shenanigans. My family might have done it, but whom? Dad was unimaginative, Mom was busy, and although my sister or brother would be excellent suspects, I had been last out of the house precisely because I had spent time lining the dinosaurs up. I think I asked my sister if she had done anything and she said no.

Also, the style of play counts out the animal members of the family; to get that iguanodon into my Velociraptor's arms would have necessitated a great deal of shoving and twisting. We had a Labrador retriever and many barn cats, but all of them were outside.

If not my family, this implies that a stranger broke into the house, only played with my dinosaurs, and then left without doing anything else. Which, frankly, is also terrible. In fact, there is nothing scarier than a human being, and I'd prefer ghosts to them any day, but I guess I'm getting off topic now.

So I'm seriously unnerved by this point. I start connecting dots and I don't like what they suggest. I put my dinosaurs away and tell no one.

It Gets Worse

Well, not long after, I wake up in the middle of the night. It is unbelievably dark in this room, but that's normal. I was very cozy, deliciously rested, safe, snug. One problem: my left arm was sticking up out of the covers at an awkward angle, like i was trying to slap the ceiling. It was actually uncomfortable, but i was so relaxed that i didn't want to move, even to put my arm down.

Suddenly, a warm adult hand presses down against mine. It drags down against my palm. The ball of their hand catches on the ball of mine. The skin is rough and moist. I can feel all the fingers. It drags off and flops away. It was like being high-fived by a zombie.

I jerked my hand under the covers. I am now wide awake. I stare into the inky black and i listen intently. I realize that i can't hear my sister breathing. I can't hear anything. Oh, god, i wanted to hear something, anything. I lie there, not daring to move a muscle, straining my eyes and ears. I was certain there was a person there in the darkness, but i couldn't hear them at all. I was sure they'd speak. They'd have to speak, right? You don't high-five strangers in the night and then not talk about it, right?

I don't know how long I waited but eventually, I slept. And when i woke up the next morning, i didn't say anything about it to anyone. I listened to everyone at the breakfast table and nobody mentioned coming into my room or seeing weird strangers in the night. I honestly didn't know what to think about it. I had been wide awake, i knew it! A sleep-walker, perhaps? Maybe my sister? My mother? But no one was a sleep-walker that i knew about.

I decided to put it behind me. Again, I told no one.

That very night, I wake up again. Wide awake. There's a little bit of moonlight but thanks to that goddamn porch it's a mere sliver on the windowsill behind me. It spent all of its strength just getting there; it can illuminate nothing. And this time--this time, I felt like i was waiting. I tried not to wait. I told myself I woke up in the middle of the night all of the time. I was absolutely not going to give any more high-fives to night people. I had my arms under the covers and everything.

A few minutes later, I hear my brother shuffle out of his room. I immediately relaxed. Oh, thank god, just bro. He was probably going to the bathroom.

Instead of walking to the bathroom, which was right across from his room, he shuffled to the end of the hall.

Okay, so he's getting a drink. Fair enough.

But then he turned around at the end of the hall and shuffled back. Alarm bells started jangling in the pit of my stomach. I froze in place and listened.

He reached the door to my room, then turned around and shuffled back to the end of the hallway, then turned around, shuffled back towards my door. He did this about four or five times. I was getting increasingly more concerned.

Finally, I sat up in bed. The shuffling had reached my door once more. I could see nothing.

"Sam?" I asked. "Are you okay?"

Complete and utter silence. My heart started crawling up into my throat. Please say something, come on, say anything!

Then the shuffling began again

AT THE OTHER END OF THE HALLWAY.

I flew under the covers, which is where I lay for hours while a barefoot ghost shuffled back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. My door is open, it can come in, it can see me, oh my gosh!

But you know what's wild? I fell asleep. All it was doing was shuffling. The sound became tiresome and i was tired. I guess shuffling isn't that bad? Better than nonconsensual high-fives for sure.

The next morning, i was again left with a conundrum: "Do I tell someone?" What the hell does one say about something like this, and what did I expect anyone to DO about it? The thing could teleport. Its ability to do dishes transcended time and space. I didn't know what it wanted. I didn't even know what it was. I wasn't even sure I could trust my experience. It was just so goddamn weird.

For the record, my family was one step above Christian fundamentalism. Southern evangelicals believe in a spirit world of blacks and whites: either a spirit is God's or it's the devil's. There is no middle ground. They also don't tend to believe that ghosts are the returned dead, but actors of spiritual anarchy, there to confuse the faithful and lead them astray.

Well, I was an extremely devout child. I'd read a lot about devils. They came in groups, they were destructive, they caused mayhem, they were almost unimaginably wicked.

My spirit-thing had exercised in the hallway and high-fived me.

So, you know, not sure how to categorize that.

Again, I opted to say nothing. I was hyper-alert when i was in the house, but it was normal and comfortable in the daytime. I decided tonight was going to be better. I prayed and I read my Bible.

On My Own

I woke up that night. Wide awake. This time there was no waiting: shuffling started at the far end of the hallway. It walked up to my door and it did not stop. It walked into my room.

My bedroom's floorplan was like so: sister's bed toward the inside of the room, and my bed sat in front of the hallway. There was an E-shaped walking space. And my new shuffle-buddy was like, hell yeah, I love to shuffle in pathways shaped like a capital E. Let's see how many circuits i can make of this bad boy.

It was summer and I had thrown off everything but a single thin sheet. This creepy fucking bastard started poking me through the sheet. It poked the sides of my arms and legs and hips. It had a lot of fingers, but generally, it would poke me on the side it was walking. Also, the fingers were preternaturally small. I kept hoping i was imagining it. Maybe it was the fan. Let it be the fan just whiffing on the sheets.

"Lol," said the ghost, probably.

Did I fall asleep this time? Absolutely fucking not. I lay there absolutely still, barely daring to breathe, for I don't know how long. I kept hoping my sister would get up.

Eventually, the room started lightening. Dawn was coming. I started straining my eyes again. Soon it would grow light enough for me to see my tormentor.

The shuffling stopped at the head of my bed. I heard three drawn-out sighs in a woman's voice. Each one was identical to the one before, like a recording being played.

And, just like that, it was gone.

I launched out of bed like it was Cape Canaveral. To my surprise, my sister followed me immediately. I was angry at first, like, you mean YOU didn't do anything? (She was 9, idk what I thought she was going to do.)

I threw myself into my mom's bed and started babbling about ghosts. There was a ghost in my room it was walking around my bed and it was touching me and it sighed and it high-fived me and why wasn't my mom looking concerned? Why did she look crabby?

"Watchword, please, stop," Mom said. "You're going to scare your sister."

I frantically turned to my sister. She stared at me blankly and said nothing. I realized she must have jumped out of bed because i had disturbed her, not because the ghost had woken her up.

This was beside the fact: my mother didn't believe me.

I hate to tell y'all this but i would routinely lie as a child. I'm not talking about mundane activities like whether i had cleaned my room or finished homework. I'm talking about, "Today I saw a dragon while i was riding the bus!" Or, "I found a magical pool full of fairies!"

The only thing worse than being disbelieved by my own mother was the realization that i had played myself. I was the boy who cried wolf, but instead of wolves it was Shuffles, chore-ghost.

I was on my own.

Jesus Magic

So that night, i prayed before i went to bed, and i threw on my comforter even though it was uncomfortably warm. When I woke up suddenly that night, right on the dot, i woke up afraid--and mad. Like let's throw hands bitch. If Mom wasn't going to help me, i was going to help myself.

Right on schedule, the thing shuffles from the end of the hallway into the room and begins shuffling. Moonlight was starting to pool on the floor but it wasn't illuminating and the ghost wasn't getting very close to it.

Thankfully, no more poking.

Shuffles had only gotten three-fourths of the way into its cycle when i leaped out of my bed. I balled my hands into fists. I stood straight and threw my shoulders back. This was great and everything but this was as far as I'd planned. Also, I was 11 years old. Nobody is afraid of babies except for smaller babies.

The ghost stopped. I could feel it regarding me from a corner. It felt so apathetic. Like it really didn't care, but go off, i guess.

I groped around for something to say and pulled off the verbal equivalent of the housewife who starts throwing flowerpots and ballpoint pens at a home intruder.

"You'd better not hurt my sister," I said loudly, hoping my sister would wake up (she did not).

Silence. I stood there, feeling dumber by the second. Was I going to try and fist-fight a ghost who could teleport? After a couple of extremely awkward minutes, I lay back down, and just like that, Shuffles started walking again. I spent the rest of the night wide awake and in despair.

Again, as the dawn light began to fill the room, and just before I could see anything, the ghost sighed three times--each time identical--and was gone.

Again, i sprang out of bed and marched to my parents' room.

My dad had come home the night before. He often worked at faraway locations for weeks at a time. So as I tried to tell Mom what had happened, he leaned up on an elbow and listened.

He believed me!

Mom tried to tell him I told stories like that all the time. I don't remember the exact gist of the conversation, but he prayed with me, and I felt better.

That night was Wednesday night church. Dad put in a prayer request for me and sang a special song he'd selected that mirrored my fears. I felt so seen and so cared-for. And that night, he prayed over my doorway, asking God to put an angel there. He also told me what to say if the ghost showed up.

I went to sleep elated.

I woke up that night again. This time I was just buzzing with excitement. Was I about to see a ghost fight an angel?

The shuffling started at the end of the hallway. It grew closer and closer. I was so afraid that i might have to face the ghost myself. I waited for any sign that the prayer had worked.

Shuffles shuffled straight through the door. Didn't even hesitate. Shuffled right beside the bed. This time the moonlight fell far enough that I should have seen something walking--pressing into the carpet, at least, right? But I could see nothing at all.

My heart sank. I sat up anyway. Shuffles stopped right beside me. I could feel it regarding me.

"In the name of Jesus," i said, "get out of this house and never come back."

Huge, pregnant silence.

Then: "Haaaaah." One long woman's sigh, identical to all the ones before. And just like that, it was gone.

I was able to sleep the rest of the night, and the next morning i raced up to Dad and gave him a huge hug and told him it had worked!

Now, I've got to interject a note here. I am no longer an evangelical, but an atheist. This one experience kept me religious longer than i might have been otherwise. It was also the seed of some doubt and thought... because, like a bad horror movie, it didn't end.

This Is the Song That Never Ends

Early fall, about 6 in the afternoon, I was sitting in my brother's room, reading a racist primer from the fifties, as one does. I started to feel uncomfortable. I felt like I was being watched and i couldn't pay attention to the text. My eyes kept sliding over the words.

I wanted to get up and leave. But when I really thought about it, I got a bit tetchy.

"No," I thought. "There is absolutely no reason to leave. I won't."

I started just staring at the page, doing no reading at all, as the uncomfortable feeling grew and grew and grew.

Then, from the door: "HAAAH." A man's sigh, but like the woman's sigh pitched down.

I flung the book and sprang. When I hit the doorway, i passed through a heavy coldness. Hit the hallway. Realized the hallway was downright hot compared to the room--probably a difference of fifteen to twenty degrees. What's more, passing through that coldness was like stepping through a door. As i walked into the living room, i marveled. Dad was watching Wheel of Fortune turned way up, bro was on the computer, Mom and sister were cooking and conversing loudly.

When I had been in that room, I hadn't heard anything. It had been completely silent.

After that, all obviously weird activity dropped off precipitously. It didn't end, though. A number of small, bizarre things followed me into my mid-twenties. At one point, I had a customer tell me I had an angel, and I said, "HAHA no. No thanks."

I have my theories; that's all they are. Mostly, I want nothing to do with it. I ain't going into no haunted houses, y'all. I don't trust something that can look or sound like anything it wants. I can't understand their motivations and that alone is reason to stay far, far away.

I became an atheist. I was able to explain away a lot of nonsense i had thought was miraculous as a child. I haven't been able to explain this. And honestly? I'm kind of grateful. Keeps me humble. I feel like it was a truly rare experience.