#and for 1920... god it's just so so good

[lesbianrobin]

Seeing as it's Black History Month, I'm gonna take a break from your regularly scheduled girlblogging to be a film nerd and beg every single person reading this post to go and watch Within Our Gates (1920).

Within Our Gates is a feature-length silent film written and directed by black filmmaker Oscar Micheaux and it is a miracle that we have it today. The film was believed to be lost for years until a SINGLE surviving print was found in Spain, translated back into English, and recut to match the original as closely as possible. (This is actually not uncommon in the realm of old film a lot of lost films get found in random closets but ANYWAY.) The film tells the story of Sylvia, a southern schoolteacher who travels up north to raise money to keep her school open. It explores how her life and family have been affected by racism, abuse, and sexual violence, as she falls in love, works to save her school, and grapples with her place as a black woman in the antebellum south. If that's not enough to get you interested, the film is also kinda batshit. There are shootouts! Affairs! Someone gets hit by a car! It's wild and dramatic and incredibly engaging.

You've heard of Birth of a Nation, right? Maybe you've even seen it. That insanely racist piece of film history premiered in 1915. Oftentimes people will defend D.W. Griffith and the film itself as being "a product of its time." Well, Within Our Gates premiered in 1920, and it is a product of its time. It depicts white mob violence against black Americans, and how that violence destroys innocent lives and rips families apart. It is written and directed by a black man. All of its lead actors are black. It is an absolutely heart-wrenching, moving, and intelligent film, produced on a shoestring budget, that explores what it meant not only to be a black American in 1920, but what it meant to be a black woman. Different characters have different approaches to coping with racism and strategies for protecting themselves. It's complicated, and upsetting, and one of the most impactful films I've ever seen.

If you can spare an hour and twenty minutes, if you happen to have access to the film through a streaming service (in addition to being FREE ON YOUTUBE, I believe it's on Amazon Prime, Paramount+, MGM+, and some Hulu plans) or an institution (you may have access to Kanopy or a similar platform via your local library or university), it's worth a watch. Play whatever music you want in the background if your version doesn't have any added! Even if you can't watch it for whatever reason, I'd encourage all of you to look into Oscar Micheaux and the history of "race films," films created outside of the Hollywood studio system by and for black Americans.

Don't buy into the false narrative that the only black representation in historical film was minstrelsy and Griffith-style garbage.

[chickenofliterature]

literally, my professor tried to throw out all of my sources last semester because they “weren’t recent” and then was shocked that my historiography didn’t make sense without them. it’s not my fault everyone just relied on a singular 1915 biography for their information

it does make me laugh when general purpose academic advice is like "all citations must be RECENT, if it's over ten years old it's probably been superseded" and it's like. maybe in sciences bro but over here i still regularly have to cite stuff from the 19th century because nobody has written on the topic since

[night0rchidd]

Grading Hazbin Characters Based on How Well They Lace Your Corset

cw: Slightly Suggestive content!!

//

Charlie: B-. She can kinda do it, but gets so excited thinking about how pretty you look that her hands keep fumbling, leaving you with a corset that’s comfortable, but not evenly laced if you look closely.

Vaggie: B+. More coordinated than Charlie, but she’s confused as to why you’re wearing this. “Babe, you look fine without this. Won’t it inhibit your movements? Are you uncomfortable?” She doesn’t understand why you want to wear something so fancy for a casual day at the hotel.

Angel Dust: A+++. He can do this in his /sleep/, and the fact that he has four arms is clearly helpful. He laces corsets for himself often, and he obviously can’t see the back when doing it, so when he’s lacing yours where he can see? It’s done in less than a minute, and perfectly. Man is an absolute legend. He’ll also give you tips on how to lace it yourself in ways that won’t be as restrictive, in case you’re planning on…/certain activities./

Husk: Solid C. He /can/ do it, but he doesn’t exactly /want/ to, and he doesn’t have a lot of experience. Besides, he’s really cautious about hurting you, so he probably doesn’t tighten it as much as he should, which leaves the top half slightly loose. (He is looking *respectfully*)

Nifty: F. She simply can’t reach it, and if she manages to jump on your shoulders she’ll just start dusting you like you’re an antique couch. (She’s doing her best lmao)

Sir Pentious: D- (but A for Effort, he’s so precious I can’t fail him) He’s trying so hard ok!! But he can’t keep track of where the ribbons go, and he probably just offered to lace /everyone’s/ corset after yours, so he’s now worried that he will have to do this impossible task not only once, but for everyone in the damn hotel.

Lucifer: C-. Much like his daughter, he’s too focused on how pretty you look, coupled with the fact that…well, he’s Lucifer, he makes rubber ducks for a living, I just can’t picture him being good at this. But by GOD, he will compliment you to no end while he gives you his best attempt.

Alastor: A+. THIS MAN IS FROM 1920’S NEW ORLEANS. HE IS CLASSY AS HELL. HE PROBABLY DID THIS FOR MIMZY EVERY SINGLE NIGHT. He’s not as stylistic about it as Angel, but that’s because he likes things more…traditional. And you can bet your ass that he’s going to make you the best Jambalaya on this side of Hell tonight.

[emeraldcity1900]

the history of animation in a nutshell

Early 1900s: hey what if comic strips could like move?

Late 1910s early 1920s hey what if we mashed this up with live action people?

late 1920s: hey what if this thing had sound?

Early to mid 1930s: hey what if this had people actually talking and also color?

late 1930s: hey you know that super cool movie that one lady animated with paper cut out silhouettes? What if we did that with painted cells? Would people even pay to see that? Never mind it turns out the answer is yes.

1940s: ah shit most of our animators got drafted and/or hate us now cause we weren’t paying them. IT’S PROPAGANDA TIME BABY. Also haha hitler got hit with a mallet and also the most racist depictions of Japanese people ever.

1950s to 1960s : oh what’s this newfangled thing? Television? What if you could air cartoons on it? Oh fuck no I ain’t paying that much to get the charecters to have different backgrounds and for the charecters to like, move fluidly. Also manga and anime are steadily growing more popular.

1970s: (Ralph Bakshi walks into a comics store and finds a furry comic) X rated animated movie? *cue the screams of mothers and their unsuspecting children now being introduced to the revolutionary idea that cartoons don’t equal kids stuff? WHAT IS THE WORLD COMING TO?

1980s to 1990s: we can have full on animated Broadway musicals? Wait, what do you mean animated movies can count for the Oscar’s? What do you mean now they get their own catagory because the academy still thinks their for babies? Anime and manga are taking off in the west. SWEET JESUS WHAT DRUGS ARE THE JAPANESE ON SHOWING THIS SHIT TO KIDS. But also why is it so fucking good. Maybe some of these aren’t even meant for kids? Wait We can sell toys to kids with cartoons? Wait we can actually put effort into these cartoons on television? The fuck to you mean we can animate in 3D now? What do you mean we can have well animated, well written sitcom shows like the simpsons? What do you mean you can make cartoon charecters say fuck? What drugs are creators at Nickelodeon on? Do I even want to know?

2000s: oh my god, there is this one show that I really like cause it’s really well written and genuinely funny but I can’t talk about it because it’s animated and we all know cartoons are for babies right? Oh look it’s the transformers movie, look how far CGI has evolved so we can make the transformers in a movie.

2010s: holy shit I know these shows are for kids but they’re just well written and have so much meaningful things to say about the world. Wait, it’s cool to like cartoons now? They they have fandoms for this? Fuck yeah I’m in. (Enters one of the most notoriously toxic fandoms of all time) THEY HAVE GAY PEOPLE IN THESE SHOWS NOW? AND COMPLEX EMOTIONAL STORYTELLING? AND ADULT ANIMATED SHOWS CAN BE MORE THAN JUST SITCOMS WITH THE SAME JOKES AND STYLE? WHY IS IT THAT EVERY DISNEY CARTOON SINCE GRAVITY FALLS INCLUDE THINGS THAT GET MORE AND MORE FUCKED UP? WHY DO I FUCKING LOVE IT? WHY THE FUCK DID DISNEY DO THE OWL HOUSE DIRTY LIKE THAT?

2020s: I got this show I wanna pitch but it dosen’t fit into any box that the networks want and also I’m afraid that they’ll just randomly cancel it before I can finish the story I want to tell. Wait, I can just post the pilot on my YouTube channel, see if anybody actually likes this thing I made and just make the show independently? FUCK THE NETWORK! I AM THE NETWORK

[vidavalor]

Hey, so...

Have you all noticed *how* Crowley and Aziraphale are drinking in 1941? And by this I mean... that they barely are? <wink>

Crowley has been drinking for millennia by this point. He gets drunk as Bildad the Shuite in 2500 B.C.. Aziraphale has been drinking since sometime prior to the scene in Rome, which is also when we see them drink together for the first time. *This* scene is 1941 so countless years and meet ups between Crowley and Aziraphale have taken place since and considering how these two drink together in other situations-- like how completely wasted they were in the "eleven years ago" scene in S1-- this one here in 1941 is *interesting.* Why?

Because friends, that is *one bottle of wine* on the table beside Aziraphale and I can still see wine in it above the label, which means what's currently in their glasses is less than the first half of the bottle... which means the glasses they are sharing now that Aziraphale just poured are their first drinks of the evening... and neither of them are really drinking much of it. That signals an intent not to drink very much at all-- the open bottle probably being plenty for the two of them. They're going slowly, without an intention to get drunk, but not really just to savor together a particularly interesting vintage. They don't seem to be noticing or tasting the wine at all. Aziraphale poured them both a good amount but not overkill but both of them so far in this scene just take cautious, *small* sips of the wine... and they don't need to conserve it, ok?

It's not the war. It's canon that Aziraphale has a case of Chateauneuf-de-Pape that he picked up in the 1920s sitting in the back of this shop at this very minute that he doesn't bust open until "Eleven Years Ago" in the future of S1 and Crowley is a bootlegger in this moment in history lol and also they're both literally magic. They could miracle wine from halfway around the world if they wanted to. There's wine to drink if they want to get drunk...

...and they both have silently agreed that they don't want to.

It is the *only* time that they drink together in a scene that we've seen where they have a mutual agreement to not drink that much. Even when Aziraphale *didn't drink*, he still got *food* drunk while Crowley was drinking in the Job minisode.

But when they're having a drink together in 1941, both of them are very clearly, by a kind of unspoken agreement from the vibes in the room, *not really drinking.* Just a little. A few sips that will lead to a glass or two a piece total, at most-- that bottle split between them would be a lot from the air of and the pace of them in this scene.

And I mean... forgetting for a moment that Aziraphale will get drunk without issue in other scenes, we all know Crowley, right? This Crowley...

In S1, part of *God's narration* lol includes that Crowley and Aziraphale had been drinking for six straight hours in the bookshop together in "Eleven Years Ago." Rome is one thing because they had just had just met up so we don't know how sloshed they got over oysters at Petronius' new restaurant (and would seem likely that they did) but in every other scene when they drink together, basically, they drink quite a bit and both of them usually wind up drunk, especially Crowley.

So why is 1941 different?

Because they're drinking like people who both want to mess around, that's why.

Yeah, people mess around while drunk and I'm sure the same can be said for any of the few Effort-curious angels and demons outside of these two but Crowley and Aziraphale are not a casual hookup to one another-- they're in love, they're best friends, and they haven't been together before after literal millennia of pining and yearning for it. It's not something that's happening while they're drunk. They want to be sober and for it to be special and the evening here in 1941 has really got everything lining up for a perfectly romantic night, if they want it to be. All the rescuing one another and little glances and now Aziraphale's asked Crowley back to the bookshop for a late night drink and they're both drinking like they want it to be tonight.

They're both silently telling one another they want something to happen by the fact that they're drinking with no intention to get drunk. They want to be present. They want to remember. They want each other's explicit consent so they're barely drinking the wine so that it's evident that if things get intimate, it's not because either or both of them are drunk, and no one has to stop over concern over that.

Aziraphale is looking at Crowley looking all dashing, unusually quiet for him, maybe a bit nervous and still hiding a little behind his glasses-- Hell's biggest lush taking the world's smallest, barely-there sip of that wine lol-- and is like how many more tiny sips do we need to take before I can crawl onto his lap...?

Aziraphale's like omg, the sex is going to be amazing... thank God I don't yet know in this moment that something-- like some Zombie Nazis, probably-- will stop us and we'll still be on trying to kiss one another 80 years from now...

[babyfoxflower]

The Hunter and the Hunted

Human! Alastor x Fem! Reader

*Disclaimer: This story is an AU and does not follow Hellaverse canon. Alastor is pretty much just a hetero, if this offends you in anyway, then I suggest you block me and go on your way.*

Synopsis: This the story of Alastor and the love of his life, his huntress, the charming Y/n Rosier. A rare beauty out on the bayou, his heart is instantly stolen by her. He’ll do anything for his beloved, even if that includes murder.

Story Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Violence, Blood, Hunting, Murder, Mentions of Child Abuse, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, 1920s Attitudes Towards Women

Prev Chapter Three Next

It was decided, not out loud, that they would meet every Saturday. This was how it went on for a whole month. He would come over, they would converse for a while before doing some kind of activity together.

This week’s was shooting practice.

Y/n fired at the first glass bottle, it was hit. She fired at the second, another hit. She fired at the third, a miss.

“Damn,” she exclaimed.

“That was swell! You almost hit all of them,” Alastor praised in a slightly sarcastic manner.

“Don’t patronize me, pretty boy,” she stuck her tongue out playfully.

He chuckled, “Can’t help it. Especially, when you get so adorably sore, babydoll,” he booped her on the nose.

He’s been like that ever since they got more comfortable with each other. Openly teasing her, she didn’t seem to mind and even gave it right back to him. God, if she only knew how much she already owned his heart.

Y/n got three more empty bottles and

lined them up on the ground, “Your turn.”

Alastor fired at the first bottle, it was hit. He fired at the second bottle, another hit. He fired at the third, a hit.

Y/n scrunched up her face, “Show-off.”

“Haha. I’ve been doing it for a lot longer.”

You’re the one that brings this side out of me, my darling Y/n.

“I suppose you want a reward for beating me, hm?” She raised an eyebrow at him.

“I didn’t know it was a competition. But since you asked, sure I’ll take a prize,” he grinned.

“Hmm, what could I, a lady, offer a gentleman?” She put her hand under her chin, as if pondering, “I know! Close your eyes.”

A suspicious look washed over Alastor’s face, “Why? What are you going to do?”

“Oh, trust me…I promise you’ll like it, Sugar.”

“Alright, then. I’m trusting you, my dear,” he closed his eyes.

He was unsure what to expect. Suddenly, there was the feeling of hands cupping his face followed shortly by the sensation of lips on his.

Instinctively, he pulled her closer to him by the waist, holding her against him. She was so small compared to him, he bet she was standing on her tiptoes just to reach his face. Of course he kissed her back, their lips moving in sync with each others.

With the strong arms he used to carry that stag, he lifted her up. She weighed practically nothing, like a rag doll. He put one hand under her thigh and kept the other firmly, but gently, on the small of her back. He could feel the garter holding her stocking up. She wrapped her arms and legs around him.

Y/n tilted her head to the side, allowing for a better angle. His lips were soft. She didn’t know what she was expecting, but she didn’t think he would have such a supple mouth.

She smells really nice. What is that…lavender? Vanilla, perhaps? I hope I smell good.

He smells like tobacco and…bourbon? Does he drink? I like it though. I hope he likes my perfume.

Eventually, they had to pull away for air. Alastor held her, the most tender of smiles on his face.

“Well, did you like your prize? Hehe,” she giggled.

“I loved it. Merci, ma Chérie.”

“Je t’en prie, mon Cher,” she said, “Oh no, your glasses are crooked. Let me fix them for you.”

She straightened his glasses, “There, is that better?”

“Much, now I get to see you better.”

Y/n blushed.

Cough, cough.

Oh god, I know that cough.

“Mother! What are you doing out here?” Alastor asked as he gently placed Y/n down.

“Oh, I was just having a stroll, and then I happened to come upon you two,” she turned to her attention to Y/n, who was smoothing out her dress, “And you, my dear, must be Y/n, correct?”

“Mrs. Hartfelt, it’s nice to finally meet you,” she held out her hand.

Mrs. Hartfelt’s demeanor shifted to a more cheerful one as she pulled Y/n into a warm hug, “Oh please, Sweetheart, call me Claudine! It’s wonderful to finally put a face to the name!”

“Thank you!”

Mrs. Hartfelt pulled away from the hug, “Let me have a look at you. Well, aren’t you as cute as a button!?” She was smiling with her whole face.

“Oh, thank you, Mrs…I mean Claudine!”

“Are you hungry? Why don’t you come over to the house and I’ll fix you kids up something to eat?”

Y/n turned to Alastor and he gave her a look that said ‘if that’s what you’d like.’

“I am a little hungry…”

Mrs. Hartfelt linked arms with her and started pulling her along before she even had time to finish her sentence, “Splendid! You like jambalaya? I make quite tasty jambalaya if I do say so myself.”

“I love jambalaya!” Y/n exclaimed.

Alastor shook his head, picking up his and Y/n’s guns off the ground.

“Well, are you coming, Alastor!?” His mother yelled.

“Coming, Mother!”

———————————————————————

As they approached the Hartfelt house, Y/n’s mouth almost fell open. To say it was lovely would be an understatement. It looked like a miniature version of those neo-classical style mansions left over from decades prior. It was white and had two large Greek columns. The windows were long and on the second floor there was a balcony.

“This is really where y’all live?” Y/n asked.

“I know, I know…it’s a mess! Alastor still needs to get around fixing that crack in the roof. Isn’t that right, Mister Handyman?” Mrs. Hartfelt turned to Alastor with her hands on her hips.

“Mother, there’s no crack in the roof. I’ve been up there twice and still couldn’t find it.”

Your eyes are going, old lady.

“You’re just not looking hard enough.”

“I think your house is beautiful, Claudine,” Y/n smiled sweetly.

I suddenly feel like a backwoods hick.

“Thank you, my dear. Such a sweet girl. Just like Alastor said.”

“Oh, you said that about me?” Y/n turned to Alastor.

He looked down at the ground, sheepishly, face crimson, “Yes.”

Y/n blushed, “What else did you say about me?”

“He said you were the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen!”

“Mother, shouldn’t we get inside? It looks like it’s going to rain,” Alastor said, changing the subject.

“Yes, we should! Come along, Y/n, you and Alastor can sit in the parlor while I get lunch ready,” Mrs. Hartfelt led her inside, “And Honey, make sure you leave those guns on the porch. You know I don’t like them in the house.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he placed the guns carefully on the porch before following them inside.

As soon as Y/n stepped inside, she felt like she was in a whole other world. There was a foyer with a chandelier, and a beautiful dark wooden staircase. The walls were charmingly decorated with paintings and framed portraits.

“Y/n, I can hang up your coat if you’d like?” Alastor offered.

“Oh, thank you!” She removed her coat and handed it to him.

“Of course, Darling,” he smiled.

He hung up hers before hanging up his own, along with his cap. Even the coat rack was nice, built again with that oh so lovely dark wood.

“I’ll show you to the parlor,” he said, taking her hand in his when he knew his mother couldn’t see.

“Are you sure your mother doesn’t need help in the kitchen?” Y/n asked.

“Oh, it’s best to stay out of her kitchen. Trust me, once she starts cooking, she becomes a whole other person.”

Y/n laughed.

“Ha! I’m not joking. One time, I went in there to ask when dinner would be ready and she threw one her slippers at me.”

“Oh, alright then.”

Alastor led Y/n into the parlor. It had red velvet sofas and big fireplace that had little carvings in the mantel, a stuffed deer’s head mounted above it. There were also rows of bookshelves. On one of the shelves was a radio.

“Did you hunt that?” She pointed to the deer head.

“No, actually, it was my grandfather who hunted it. I did help him taxidermy it though,”pride in his voice.

“Oh, you know how to taxidermy?” An excited smile painted her face.

“Yes, I quite enjoy it. It’s such a relaxing hobby.”

“I imagine so! I find such delight in gutting and skinning animals after a hunt. Making them into an art piece sounds even more satisfying.”

“A lady after my own heart! Draining the blood is also very entertaining.”

“Oh for sure, it is!”

“I can show you how to make taxidermy, if you’d like? With your small hands, I think you’ll be very gifted at it.”

“I would love that! Thank you so much, Sugar!” Her face was lit up completely.

She’s so cute. How am I even supposed to deal with this? I just want to give her everything and then some.

They sat down next to each other on one the sofas.

“So, are you and your grandfather close?” She inquired.

“We were. He passed away seven years ago.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“It was his time. He lived a very long life, made it to eighty years old.”

“What was he like, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“He was what one would call a true southern gentleman. Kind, generous, and charismatic. He was the one who taught me how to shoot, hunt, and fish. In many ways, he was more of a father to me than my own father.”

“I’m sure he would be proud of the man you grew up to be,” Y/n smiled softly, squeezing his hand lightly.

“Thank you, my dear. He would have liked you, I think he would have liked you a lot,” he squeezed her hand back.

“I bet I would have liked him too.”

“Oh! Would you like a cigarette?” Alastor asked, reaching over to the side table and grabbing a silver cigarette box.

“Sure, is alright to smoke inside?”

“Yes, Mother doesn’t mind as long as it’s in the parlor,” he handed her one before taking one for himself.

He then pulled out a lighter from his pocket and lit hers first.

“Merci, mon cher!” She exclaimed.

“Avec plaisir, ma chérie!” He replied, before lighting his own.

Alastor couldn’t help but watch as Y/n brought her cigarette up to her lips, those same lips he tasted earlier, and took a long drag. There was something almost sinful about it.

Good lord, I never thought that I would be so jealous of a cigarette.

He took a drag himself, inhaling that sweet taste of nicotine before exhaling a puff a smoke from his mouth. Little did he realize that she was watching him too, studying how that slender cig fit between his long pretty fingers. Without her knowledge, her thighs started rubbing together.

What am I doing? He’ll think I’m some randy slut if he sees me doing this.

She turned away from him, noticing a framed photograph with three young girls in it on the side table next to them.

“Who are they?” Y/n asked.

Alastor turned his attention to where she was looking, “Oh, that’s my mother and her sisters.”

“Really? Who’s who?”

He picked up the photograph, making sure to keep his cigarette away from it.

“The one in the middle is my mother. The one to the right of her is my Auntie Colette and the one the left is my Auntie Clementine. They’re triplets.”

“Oh! What are your aunts like?”

“Well, Auntie Colette is the most artistic and free-spirited of the three. She ran away to Paris and became a painter. I’ve only met her three times in my life but she seems like a nice enough lady. And then Auntie Clementine is a real homebody who rarely leaves the house, she got married at sixteen and has eight children.”

“Damn, eight kids!? Sorry that was rude.”

Alastor chuckled, “No, no, you’re fine. That would be my reaction too.”

Y/n laughed, “Are you close to your cousins?”

“Not all of them, but growing up my cousin Elodie was my best friend. She’s quite cheerful and has a high sense of morality. You two would probably get along,” he smiled.

“Well, I’d love to meet her sometime.”

“That would be lovely, I’d love to introduce you to all of my family eventually. I’m sure they’ll absolutely adore you,” his eyes were full of sincerity.

Maybe one day, I’ll get to introduce you as my wife.

Y/n’s face turned red, “You’re such a sweet talker!”

Taglist 🏷️: @chibistar45 @doveatheart @ghostofajinx @girl-math-aint-mathing @91062854-ka @harmfulb1tch @2dmenforme @ladyadrasteia666 @uniquecutie-puffs @vxllys @wendds @alastorsgirl48

[scoutswritingcorner]

The Monster That Lurked

Alastor x GN!Reader

A/N:Hey hey! I'm in a really angsty mood and decided to write a full fledged fic about my own work of ‘Monster In The Woods’!!! YAY!!! ALSO A FRIENDS TO LOVERS DEAL- SUE ME. Also you can picture Human Alastor or Alastor anyway you want cause I don’t really describe him much except for what he is wearing and I picture Alastor a certain way in my head. This got long I apologize.

TW: Set in the 1920-30’s, Human Alastor and his murders. Pre-established relationships, cheating, Alastor “stealing” you away from your husband.Alastor and Reader have known each other for a long time already. Reader is also some sort of fucked up, in like the murder way. Talks about cheating, fighting, Gore, Christianity and religion in general. MURDER VERY MUCH MURDER

Word Count: 7k

1927, the days filled with laughter and partying whilst listening to jazz standing with your husband..well you were waiting outside a sleazy bar for your husband, the same drunkard that your father had married you off to. He wasn’t your first choice neither was he your last choice. You would’ve been fine not marrying anybody and just living your life hidden from prying eyes, you would rather be somewhere in the Louisiana bayou with Alastor. Just sitting and listening to him ramble on about a new show he was talking about or how some poor lad got on his bad side. 

But yet you were standing on the sidewalk in front of a sleazy bar with even sleazier patrons as you stared at your husband through one of the windows as he hit on the same poor dame that served him. He cheated all the time and yet you never cared, was it because you never truly loved him or was it the fact you’d rather picture his own death while he begged god for his sins. You couldn’t tell anymore and a part of you didn’t want to know anymore. The other part of you wanted to delve deeper into your own thoughts, wanted to open the door that was locked and barricaded for your own good. You wanted to understand what it felt like to rip flesh from bone and see how long it would take for him to lose consciousness from the blood loss.

A loud honk from a passing car made you jump out of your skin and look around, feeling the small box in your pocket, it was supposed to be for your husband but he didn’t deserve it, he would’ve just sold it eagerly for some kind of money to waste his life away. That’s fine you knew a man who would appreciate it more than him anyway. The same man whose voice was happily broadcasted on every radio for miles around, you could practically hear his smile through the radio static and fuzz. Your heartbeat a little faster than it should’ve just thinking about him, he was your friend and that was it. Friends don’t have crushes on friends. This was just a way to spoil him for being a good friend of yours. Right?

You couldn’t bother him right now, you knew better so you did what you always did. Went back home and made yourself busy until he eventually made his way over to your house. He was always quick enough to get to your house before your drunken husband did but stayed around long enough (i.e in the early hours of the morning) so you wouldn’t have to deal with anything unnecessary and you eventually went to bed. Then he would’ve disappeared for a few days but he came back around. You didn’t question him or his ways, you knew better. A part of you did want to question his motives but you held your tongue like you always did.

Your husband wasn’t a necessarily violent man..just dumb and constantly drinking, said some nasty words too. If it wasn’t for you, Alastor would’ve probably done him in by now. Especially when he was talking bad about his Mother, you saw the way Alastor stared at your husband. The same angry look you gave him when he had gotten on your last nerve. But before Alastor could get to him, some other patron did. Knocked your husband’s nose sideways and a tooth completely out. Bastard deserved it completely and till this day you don’t visit that place. You needed a fucking drink thinking about your husband but the bastard drunk your house completely dry.

A knock on your front door snapped you out of your thoughts and as you turned towards your front door, the man of the hour had walked through your door. A huge grin plastered on his face, one hand holding a bottle of whiskey and in the other today's paper. “Ah ha! There you are, My Dear!” He called out his suit absolutely spotless. A smile formed on your lips as you grabbed two glasses from the cupboard, waving him towards one of the only rooms your husband doesn’t enter. “You had me worrying there for a moment,” He said tilting his head back towards you as he led you to the parlor room, “Maybe that husband of yours was back from wherever he was lurking.” He finished his smile falling into a snarl, Alastor was also not a huge fan of your husband from the start. You never asked why as you both didn’t want to think of him during your little time together.

“Please..you know better than I do that he’s hitting up on a poor dame at the bar.” You replied, sitting the glasses down on the table causing him to make a noise in acknowledgement, “At this point, Alastor..I’m believing you're a mind reader with how you just appear with whiskey in hand at my front door.” At that? He let out a loud belly laugh leaning in closer to you allowing his gaze to soften as he stared at your features before he leaned away opening the bottle of whiskey. This was going to be a long night for the both of you and you had forgotten all about the gift.

~~~

A couple weeks had passed since you last saw Alastor in person but you didn’t fret, he had called the next day to tell you he had made it back home safely. Something he had picked up ever since you had asked him to stay the night so long ago, you were-..are still scared of your own thoughts. The ones that dare creep out, the ones who tell you to crack open your husband’s chest and rip out his still beating heart. The ones who you don’t dare tell a soul and you sure as hell won’t tell Alastor, he’d think you're insane. But you knew..you were slowly losing yourself and everyday it was one step closer to killing your husband.

Walking into the kitchen and rolling your eyes seeing your husband looking like hell, “Hungover John?” You hissed out as you moved past him a grunt falling from his lips in reply, “Shut the fuck up..” He hissed out speech still slurred as half assed venom dripped from his tongue. “I wasn’t the one up at 1 in the morning drinking with that no good radio host.” You froze your hand twitching towards the knife on the counter but stopped yourself, “I wasn’t the one who was at the bar drinking his sorrows away whilst trying to bed another dame for the twentieth time this week.” You hissed back, sending a glare towards him. 

John stood up fully and walked towards you getting into your face, hand raising to no doubt strike you. But nothing came as someone cleared their voice, an icy cold tone to it. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Friend.” Alastor..fuck you forgot about him and his way of just walking into your house. You had drunkenly given him a key one night, ‘Just in case’ you told him. You were glad that you did because as soon as he heard Alastor’s cold voice he immediately backed up and stormed off deeper into the house.

Alastor’s cold gaze had followed the poor idiotic man as he disappeared into the home before they snapped back onto you. “Are you alright?” He asked the venom and anger laced in his voice gone but you saw how his eyes still held his anger, like they did when that fool had talked bad about his Mother. You often had envy and wished that you could know a mother’s gentle hand guiding you towards a better life. But criminals only give birth to criminals, your mother had left the Earth so long ago you don’t even remember what she looked like anymore but sometimes when you look into a crowd you see a familiar figure and a part of you becomes elated before it crashes and burns into the ground. 

“I’m fine, Alastor.” You replied softly as you glanced down the hallway where your husband stormed off. Alastor sat silent watching your face keep still but the sadness in your eyes was apparent, he knew you yearned for freedom and solace. He knew how you would rather be a thousand miles away from your “husband”- God he hated that word and man, if he could’ve he would’ve killed him a long time ago. Walking over he softly hummed, “Let me take you out on the town, Dear…a way to get your head cleared.” He whispered, reaching over and carefully placing his hand on your shoulder. He watched your eyes once almost so lifeless and dull flicker to life at the thought, “All day?” You asked, glancing at him, the warmness in your eyes returning, a small smile forming on your lips. Hook…line…and sinker, he’s got you right where he wants you, perfectly safe in his hands.

“Of course, Dear! Now go on, go get dressed!” he hummed his smile, returning as he guided you to go down to your own bedroom which was supposed to be the guest bedroom. You never explained why you had moved bedrooms but he didn’t need to guess or ask. It was abundantly clear to anyone who had stepped foot in your household, this “marriage” wasn’t full of love. It was only necessary and after the first year of it, you had grown cold. That man had taken away any semblance of your hope and happiness for a better life. Alastor hummed a tune that played from his radio broadcasts as he looked around your home, he’s seen the decor and fake photos that hung up on the wall a million times but yet it never gets old. Especially when he’s staring at the photo of you on your wedding day, the way the smile doesn’t reach your eyes. “What are you still doing here?” A slurred voice asked, causing him to calmly look over. His smile grew wider at the sight of the boy in front of him. That wasn’t a man..far from it. “Good to see you at least a little sober, Jonathan.” He hummed, dodging the question thrown his way. 

“Shut the fuck up, Alastor.” John threw back, moving closer as Alastor’s eyes darkened. Just a little closer..and then he’d be gone for good. “John!” You yelled out making the man flinch and Alastor’s heart raced, oh how he loved hearing that venom lace your tongue; it was always a delight to see how commanding you were when you wanted to be. When Alastor first met you, you were quiet yet happy and you hadn’t been married to this fool. Such a lovely little mouse minding your own business when you had accidentally bumped into him. He wouldn’t believe anyone if they said meeting you would change his life. You had spilled wine on his suit, yet you didn’t freak out when you saw his eyes flicker angrily. Only apologized and paid for his new suit with the money you had been saving up to leave for good, he wouldn’t find that out until a year later.

John looked over at you with anger but soon he once again stormed out of the house cursing you and Alastor. Alastor looked over at you with a gentle smile returning to his lips as he guided you to the front door. “Come now~ Let’s paint the town red, Dear” He called out laughing at his own little joke making you roll your eyes at his antics. Silly man.

~~~

Hours happily passed by and the day turned into night from swinging into tailors and from jazz clubs to socialite parties so you both could secretly judge people between hushed breaths, he eventually led you down to a park that was lit up with lampposts every so often before sitting down on a park bench under the moonlights soft glow. Your laughter had died down into a comfortable silence as you glanced over at Alastor. His leg crossed the other one, “I haven’t seen someone so eager to play the fool in one of those parties.” He laughed out, tapping his thumb on his knee, “Something on my face, Darling?” You jumped and looked away, “No no..sorry I..I’ve been lost in my own thoughts recently, Alastor.” 

He looked over at you, you were unusually silent the whole night. “Can I tell you something?” You asked, watching as you finally looked over, oh he could never get used to those eyes of yours and that darling little smile was everything to him. “Of course, Darling.” He reached over and carefully plucked a stray leaf from your shoulder, his attention fully on you. You looked down, hands trembling..you had to tell him, you could tell him right? “Nevermind it, you’d think I’d gone insane.” You corrected and cleared your throat leaning back into the cooled bench. You felt uncomfortably hot despite the cold air, winter was right around the corner.

Using his hand to rub at his chin as he hummed your favorite tune he played on air, this piqued his curiosity much more than he’d like to admit. “I’d never think such a thing, my friend!” He replied throwing his hand up in the air as if to actually try and swat those thoughts away from your mind. “Tell me whenever you feel ready to do so, my Dear!~” He was always willing to listen to you even if it was about nothing, your voice was practically music to his ears. Closing his eyes as a cold breeze hit his face as he continued to hum along to fill the silent night, he suspected it was your..’husband’..the cause of all your misery. The way your honeyed voice was now constantly laced with venom and authority as if you had to fight to even allow your voice to be heard. Your silence had felt like an eternity for him but he knew it had only been a moment or two, he didn’t realize how addicted to your voice he had become.

“I..I’ve been having thoughts.” You started making him look over at you, his eyes narrowing in concern at your form, how small you had looked at the moment. He had leaned forward and took his jacket off before draping it over your figure not minding how the cold nipped at his skin but he didn’t interrupt you, he knew better to do so. “Angry thoughts..well they started out that way but now they’ve turned into something more..violent.” You explained carefully pulling his jacket closer to your frame, eyes casted off in the woods. You imagine some man standing there, blood covering his hands and drenching his shirt, a wicked smile on his face as he looked up into the night sky and laughed out loud for god to hear him. 

Alastor followed your gaze as his humming slowed down until it completely stopped to allow the silence to fill the air, his smile pulling into a more sinister one at how he finally understood. The same one that happened to find its way on his lips after killing his latest victim, he quickly rubbed his hand over his mouth allowing the smile to drop before you could catch a glimpse of it. “I think of what it would feel like to rip flesh from bone..to finally choke him out..I want to know what it feels like to snub out a life..his life. I’m not a violent person and these thoughts terrify me, I try to keep them hidden but…sometimes they slip out.” You finish up finally noticing how tight your throat felt and the tears falling down your face. It felt great to finally get that off your chest but now the anxiety of it all set in, would he rat you out to the police? Would he hate you?

“I don’t remember when they started. Was it when I was forced to get married to him? I’d tell myself I can save enough money and start somewhere new..but then I’d miss you..miss your early morning show and our late night talks.” You confessed spilling your problems out onto the sidewalk like a drunkard when he had spilled his guts on the pavement. You were pathetic in your own way. Alastor watched you for a few moments before carefully pulling you into his side, using a handkerchief tucked into his vest pocket to carefully wipe your tears away. “No more tears, dear friend.” he whispered, allowing you to hide your face into his shoulder as his arm wrapped around your waist. 

He was at a crossroad in his own mind, should he tell you not to go with it? He wouldn’t want you to go into this dirty mess. But he also wants you to feel the rush of adrenaline when snubbing out a life, he wants to help. But either way if you did or didn’t he’d take care of it..in some way or another. No one should hurt his little mouse in such a way and get away with it. It was silent for a long time as you calmed yourself and he held you with a softness that was foreign to himself and most others. 

“I always..I always imagined running away with you..to some old house down near the bayou.” You whispered out feeling the familiar chain that hung on his vest, the one hidden under his jacket. He leaned his head against yours and hummed in reply. It sounded picture perfect in his mind.

~~~

You sat at the church pew next to your ‘husband’ and kept your head down as you listened in on the priest doing his normal sermon. The only time your husband had decided to not be drunk and clean up for once in his life was always on Sundays or when his family was coming over. Something you always ran away from, you stayed in the empty parlor with a glass of water and a small book. His mother was never kind to you nor his sisters, you chose to ignore them and their gossip. Especially when you had to be seated around them in a church talking about a man who you possibly didn’t believe in but was instead forced to hear this priest talk about whatever was in the bible. Your hands clasped together as your mind kept drifting off. 

It had only been two days since you told everything to Alastor, your feelings and how you wished to murder your own husband. You haven��t been able to talk to Alastor since which was fine, he was a very busy man after all. Lifting your head up as you felt your husband nudge your leg with his own, you sent him a glance ignoring how he was practically glaring at you. “Don’t embarrass me infront of my family” He hissed out as you glared at the wall. “They already know how rocky our relationship is, John.” You hissed back, about to leave but someone sat next to you keeping his head down, “Sorry I’m late, Dear Friend.” Alastor whispered, making the anger dissipate in a matter of seconds, “Mother wanted to go see an old friend,” He hummed and got comfortable next to you.

After an hour or maybe it was a good 10 minutes you couldn’t tell but Alastor had successfully dragged you away and out of the church under the guise of it being important and he couldn’t dare interrupt the sermon. You didn’t care now as you laughed at some joke that was pointed towards your husband, walking down the street arm in arm as he used his other hand to dramatically explain everything that’s happened between the hours you both had parted. The crying and confession long gone in your mind as you pointed out the flaws in his story but he had only reached over and pinched your nose between his fingers with only a half hearted threat of keeping his ‘secrets’. 

As you both walked down the street the laughter and conversation lulled into a peaceful silence. “Where are you taking me?” You asked, feeling a familiar presence in your pocket, the gift you had forgotten about for weeks now. “Just for a walk through the park, Dear.” He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, a smile had formed on your face but your eyes still had that faraway look in them. Guess you were going back into your own head again, “I got you something a while ago and forgot it in my jacket” you called out reaching into your jacket and pulling the small box out, you didn’t want to bring up the fact it was supposed to be a gift for your husband. Alastor abruptly stopped in his tracks and looked at you, “You didn’t need to do such a thing, Dear.” You only smiled at him and gave him the box, “I know..but I wanted to give it to you.” You whispered out watching as he opened the box, his eyes widening. It was one of the newer pocket watches that you’ve had your eyes on for a long while now, “Dearest I..I couldn’t take this.” He replied carefully, taking the watch out, flipping it open and smiling. “But you can..and you will cause it’s for you, Al..”

You loved seeing him smile like that, something that you had rarely seen when you first started hanging out. It’s still mostly rare, especially when he’s had a hard day or the simple fact that you sometimes don’t see him for days on end. He put the pocket watch back into the box carefully, “Guess I’ll have to find to pay you back now?” He hummed out placing the box into his pocket causing you to sigh, “You know you don’t have to do such a thing, Alastor. I..I don’t deserve it.” Only criminals give birth to criminals and criminals don’t get nice things. 

“Oh but I think you do,” He replied and leaned down to gently tap your forehead, “Despite what those thoughts of yours tell you.” You blinked and stared at him, “You know me too well,” You huffed turning away from him. “Not well enough!” He called happily following after you and quickly catching up, long legged bastard. You looked up at him as he held out his arm, “Are you sure about that, Alastor? I think you know me better than most people.” You said carefully taking hold of his arm, he chuckled and quicked his step making you practically had to speed walk to catch up with him.

The night truly didn’t stop until you were almost on the verge of passing out from laughter and how sleep creeped up on your shoulders. Alastor’s arm was snuggly wrapped around your waist to keep you upright as the sandman was practically calling your name. “Come on now, one foot up the step.” He whispered as he guided your sleepy self up onto your own porch. “I can walk fine, Alastor. I’m not drunk,” You whispered, shaking your head trying to fight off how your eyes grew heavier. You don’t like being up past a certain time in the early mornings but for Alastor you would’ve done it a million times over….Maybe you did have a crush on him but he wouldn’t love you back in a million years. 

You don’t remember when you got into your bedroom, did you black out on him? Yet he was still holding you against his chest as he swayed you to an imaginary rhythm. “And here I thought you had fallen asleep on me already.” He whispered out, causing you to jump out of your skin for a second before you huffed, “Sorry, didn’t mean to do so.” You replied leaning back to try and smooth out his shirt, now noticing his jacket was draped near the door of your bedroom. “Nonsense, I find it comforting in a way that you trust me to fall asleep near me.” He replied watching you, his bow tie had been undone for a couple hours now but watching the way you had subconsciously fixed it for him made his heart race and butterflies erupt in his stomach.

His mind wandered off watching as you blinked the sleep from your eyes to make sure he still looked presentable. He wondered sometimes what it would be like if he married you instead of that idiotic man. “..Don’t leave for too long this time, Al..I know I’ll eventually hear your voice on the radio but sometimes it’s not the same..” You whispered out glancing back up at him, his gloved hand reaching up to cup your face tracing the bags under your eyes with his thumb, “I’ll try, Cher..” He replied as he leaned down to press his head against yours. He couldn’t promise it but he’d try especially since he has been working so hard on his plan to get rid of that idiotic husband of yours.

You leaned your head up, allowing for your noses to brush against one another. His arms were still wrapped around your waist, one of his hands splayed on the middle of your back. Then it had hit you, all those times he had pulled you away from your husband and took you to the places you loved..was he silently courting you? Had he been doing so for days now and you were just too stupid to notice? You gently cupped his face and watched as he had opened his eyes, when did he close them? “I..Alastor? Have you been courting me?” Your voice was only above a whisper making him freeze in his tracks. He was silent for a long time before he nodded and sighed. “I have been yes,” He replied and you felt your face warm, seemingly all of the tiredness from before had dissipated. 

His gloved hands came up to carefully grasp onto yours as your thumb caressed his cheek, a faint scar that had healed overtime. You remembered when you saw the scar, yet you never asked, figuring he would’ve told you when he decided to do so. He had yet to say a word about it so it must’ve not been important. In the years that you had known him, you’ve grown to love him and to be wary of him all at the same time. He was a wild mutt waiting to sink his teeth into any fresh meat he could find, he wasn’t the one to be tamed or “domesticated” and you surely would never think to tie him down to a preconceived notion such as marriage or a family life. It took someone truly special to worm their way into his heart and that was a tough act, nonetheless, he had picked and prodded at the worst parts of you wanting to see how quick it took for you to finally snap at him, show your fangs and reveal your weak spots to him. He loved the game of it.

Yet here he was, the same wild animal that used to raise his hackles and bare its sharp teeth was essentially laying down and showing his belly to you. He’d disappear to find his fill and get those fangs bloodied before he’d make his way back to you. Maybe everyone who told you to stay away was right, he wasn’t a man to stick around but here you were inviting the man into your home day after day because you just couldn’t get enough of him. 

Blinking your thoughts away you focused on Alastor, how he had leaned closer to you. “May I?” He whispered, ever the gentleman he was, his hands carefully squeezing yours as you nodded your head a small smile on your lips. Wordlessly, he closed the gap and gently kissed you. At first it was such a small kiss but you didn’t want it to end, you just got a taste of what it felt like to be loved..actually loved and it felt amazing, that one small kiss turned into a bigger one as his hands fell down to hold onto your sides.

You would be asleep until lunch the next day, the memory still fresh on your mind as you awoke to find a small gift box on your bedside table. You were going to kill Alastor.

~~~

You sat in an office, legs crossed as you watched the lawyer in front of you collect some papers and give you a passing glance every so often. “Now, it’s to my knowledge you are looking to file for a divorce?” The man asked, causing you to nod, “Now is there a reason for this divorce?” You huffed, how many times did you have to explain it? “Infidelity, I’ve caught him one too many times and I’d rather make this quick.” You huffed out venom lacing your tongue as you watched the older gentleman nod and produced some papers. 

After an hour of signing papers and making everything on record you had finally gone home. You didn’t even greet your husband when you walked inside, just placed the papers on the table and left for the day ignoring how he yelled out for you. You had walked all the way to the park, the same park Alastor had walked you to all those weeks ago and you spilled your darkest secrets out into the open. Sitting on the same bench as you watched people pass by as your eyes drifted to the woods, you also knew Alastor was an avid hunter and you’d be alone for a while longer as deer season came around. You’d be alone with your husband and your thoughts. You hoped this divorce would go through but it was a slim chance and then you would rightfully be kicked out of church for thinking of doing such a thing. Laughter rang in your ears as you got lost in your own world, your eyes glued onto the Doe walking out of the collection of trees to find something to eat on.

As the doe finally found something to snack on it had turned its head up and towards you. A small part of you felt a twinge of dread as you stared at the doe and the other part felt calm as the feeling started to grow and settle into the pit of your stomach, your breathing slowed down considerably before the doe had run off seemingly spooked away. You frowned and watched as it disappeared further into the woods. Gloved hands clamped down onto your shoulders making you jump up in surprise and let out a loud scream as Alastor’s laugh was heard from behind you.

 You turned on your heel ignoring the passerby who looked on in confusion, “I’m going to kill you, Alastor.” You hissed out trying to hide the prominent blush on your features and how your lips creeped up into a smile. He smirked, he knew you didn’t actually mean you would kill him. Your version of ‘kill’ meant you would simply get him back later in some kind of fashion. You were a smart person after all. “I’m sorry, Dear! You were so out of sorts you looked primed for me to scare you.” He hummed and moved to sit down on the bench, his hand patting the spot next to him. You let out a loud sigh sitting next to him, “What’s on your mind?” He hummed out fixing his gloves before moving to brush imaginary dust off his pants. 

You were silent for some time trying to figure out the words in your head, “I gave John divorce papers today.” you whispered out causing him to look over trying to hide the growing smile on his face, you still haven’t brought up the kiss you both shared the night before and you were scared to do so. “Really?” He hummed, leaning back against the bench using one hand to tap a melody on his knee, “I’m just waiting for him to sign it and see if the court will..allow the divorce to happen.” He didn’t answer and looked ahead as the conversation lulled into a comfortable silence. Your mind raced as another cold breeze hit you in the face, what would you do if the court denied the divorce? Would Alastor still..be by your side? The thoughts raced and raced but before you could delve deeper, a warm inviting hand was placed onto your shoulder causing you to look over at him confused but leaned into the warmth.

“It’s going to be okay, Dear. Don’t let those thoughts run you ragged now.” You nodded at his words and smiled, “Figured you’d be out hunting by now.” That made him let out a small laugh as his smile grew wider and went off on a tangent about hunting and how to actually be a good hunter.

You’d be fine.

~~~

You’d be fine.

Those were the words echoing in your head as you were now standing in your kitchen hands on the counter as you stared down at the broken glass cup as you heard your husband yell at you. The amber liquid is now spilling onto the wooden floor, your cheek burned like hell and you tasted the iron in your mouth as you unclench your jaw allowing your teeth to free themselves from your tongue. You stormed over to the phone and used the rotary dial to call a familiar number that you had stuck in the back of your mind. Alastor. You don’t remember the start of the conversation. All you could mumble between the stinging pain and blood in your mouth was, “Come over..It’s an emergency.” Before hanging up abruptly.

The next few moments were quick in your mind but you knew it took far much longer to do as your hands trembled. Grabbing whatever heavy metal object you could find in the vicinity, as your husband turned to face you once more. The fear in the man’s eyes as you swung and hit him in the face, breaking his nose with a sickening crack. He fell to the floor, his hands moving to cover his nose as he stared up into your empty anger filled eyes, god..it felt good to see him as nothing but a pathetic ant beneath your feet. It felt invigorating as you dropped to your knees one hand holding him down as you continuously bashed the item into his face until he was nothing more than a lifeless body surrounded by a pool of his own blood.

You stared down at him and then the blood covering your hands as tears formed into your eyes and a sob bubbled up from your throat but you weren’t sad. Far from it..you were relieved as you looked up at the ceiling falling flat on your ass as you started to laugh between horrid sobs. Your hands grasping at your shirt laughing louder until your cheeks hurt from how long you were smiling and as Alastor finally came into your vision. The smile faltered for a moment as another loud sob wracked your body, “I did it, Al..I did it-” You choked out as you curled into yourself. “It felt so fucking good..I felt fucking invincible.” You hissed out blood dripping from your mouth and onto the floor. “Oh god- I finally fucking did it.”

Alastor walked over calmly and quietly, his hands clasping on your shoulders. His suit was long gone as when you called him he was in the middle of getting ready to go out ‘hunting’ but when he heard your desperation, he rushed over immediately. “You did and I’m so proud of you, Dearest..but go get cleaned up and I’ll deal with the mess, yes?” He whispered into your ear as you let out another sob allowing him to help you stand up on your two feet. As he helped you to your own bathroom and got you fresh clothes, he went back to the freshly dead body in your kitchen and smirked. “Got what you had comin’ old boy.” He hissed out before starting to get to work cleaning up the mess.

It didn’t take him long to clean up but now he had to find a way to actually get rid of the body. In your backyard? No, that's too suspicious..in the woods? Maybe but he doesn’t want you to have another breakdown. But he would have to wait until night time so right now? He’s going to have to play the part just in case people start to suspect something. He looked around and draped a blanket over the body before dragging it towards an empty room.

When he had walked back to the kitchen, he had watched as you were carefully cleaning up the shards of glass. Walking over he had finally noticed the blooming bruise on your cheek causing a part of him to be angry. “He hit you?” He whispered out helping you stand up, “Yeah..after we got home after the court denied the appeal..said I embarrassed him and broke a cup over my head before slapping me.” You whispered your speech slurred from your swollen tongue making you flinch, “What do I do now?” You whispered out, allowing him to gently grab your chin, “I don’t know what to do, Al..” His eyes softened and he sighed, “Sit down and I’ll cook something for you, Dear. We are gonna have to wait till nightfall.” He hummed, pressing a gentle kiss upon your head.

Later that night, he had helped you bury your ex husband deep in the forest, he mostly did all the dirty work but he did explain how to hide a body. 

~~~

It was now 1931, four years after you had killed your ex husband and a year after the economy collapsed. You and Alastor had moved in with one another and while not officially married by the courts you both loved one another and acted as such. Wearing a wedding ring on your finger told everyone you were either remarried or you still loved your poor ex husband that was murdered in cold blood by the rampant serial killer that was on the loose. Which would be far from the truth.

His family blamed you for his murder, calling you every name in the book and berating you for ‘kicking him out of the house’ which also wasn’t the truth. Yet another lie your ex had spun to keep his pride intact, you didn’t care in all honesty. The man was gone now..killed by your hands.

But here you were walking down the dark streets of New Orleans to get back home to your loving Beau, you had heard through the grapevine he was having a rough day and hoped to cheer him up that night but as you continued to walk down the street you realized that you were being followed. But maybe not maybe it was just your paranoia, but still you felt like a waiting duck, taking a turn down an alleyway and then another hoping to lose the trail of whoever was following you. 

It wasn’t until you had gotten to a familiar part of town out near the bayou that you felt relatively calmer but then that was stomped on when you heard a yell from behind. You looked back thinking it was one of the friendly neighbors but it wasn't. It was the man from before the same one who was following you. You dropped the book you were holding and broke out into a sprint down towards where your house was, trying your best to dodge anything that could hurt you. Then a loud shot rang out and it sounded like thunder causing your body to freeze up for a second. But you continued to keep running, you just needed to get home..you could see the smoke billowing from the chimney and the soft glow of the lights inside.

Your heartbeat was banging on your chest as you ran, you were almost there..you could see Alastor inside before a loud SNAP echoed through the silent air as you fell face first into the ground. 

You scrambled to get up sobbing as you looked back to see a trap digging into your leg, its sharp teeth scraping against bone as you sat up watching as the man got closer. “Fuck fuck-” you hissed out as you started to painfully get the jaws of the trap unstuck and scrambled off ignoring how your leg was burning. You yelled out for Alastor before another loud shot echoed through the air. The constant buzzing of the cicadas had gone silent as you fell to the ground gasping for air. Oh god it hurt, your hands moved to clutch your stomach as you looked up at the man, pistol in his hand pointed right between your eyes, “You killed my brother.” He hissed out his voice breaking as you teared up and begged him to let you go.

Tears cascaded down your face as he yelled, whispering some prayer that spilled past your lips and then the night went silent. As the gun had fallen down the hammer hit the ground first causing the gun to be set off, the bullet flying into the sky of the New Orleans Bayou. You trembled laying on the ground sobbing as you brought your hands up to see blood covering them the moonlight had casted down upon you as you sobbed out. There was movement before your head was lifted up and cradled into your Husband’s chest. His familiar cologne invades your senses in a comfortable way as he shakily tries to stop the bleeding. 

“It’s going to be okay, Cher..I’ll fix you right up.” he whispered into your hair as he pressed his hand onto your stomach. You were bleeding out too much as your breathing started to slow. No no it wasn’t supposed to end like this, tears raced down his cheeks as he pulled you closer as your hand weakly grasped around his sobbing out how you didn’t want to die. But he knew he couldn’t help you, he was far too late to properly help you and it was too far to get you to a doctor. “Sing me a song, Al?” You whispered out, “One last song?” he nodded and cleared his throat, watching as the light in your eyes slowly faded as he sung your favorite song.

He stayed like that for an extra hour, holding your lifeless body to his and singing all your favorite songs before he finally had the courage to find a place to bury you properly, making sure that when the sun rose the next morning it’s first rays it sent out over the bayou would hit your grave. You always did love watching the sun rise and listening to his broadcasts.

He would meet you again, he just knew it. He just didn’t know when.

[orphicrose]

Are you still doing requests? Can I request Alastor x Wife reader who were married together alive an reunited in hell and while Alastor hates modern tech the reader grew on it and even started a life hack channel on voxtube of tricks from the 1920s and it becomes really popular and she gets sponsors and fan mail meanwhile Alastor needs Angel's help just to video chat her and one day she gets a 5 million subscriber mileage congratulations gift box (that all creators get bit hes still mad) from Vox himself

Old man and an Iphone

Requests are still open indeed.

I can definitely do my best! I’ve changed the dates around a little to better fit the technology advancements in the universe. This is set in the early 2000s

This is somewhat small, but i hope you like it.

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

Years passed like turning pages since your husband had departed from you, in the cruelest ways that anyone could imagine. A fate that wasn’t even inevitable. That singular fragile piece of metal, shot from an unknown hunter, took him away from you.

You knew who he was, you knew what he was. Knowing that you’d end up in the same temple of horror one day that he has. His sins being your sins. That brought you some peace. Knowing you’d be reunited one day. Even if it was in the worst place imaginable. Hell. That day came sooner than you’d like to admit. Leaving behind your clueless grandchildren and your own hellish spawn.

The ground below you hit rather hard, not even knowing you were falling down the rabbit hole till the bottom came right to your face. You let off a grunt in response. Your body feeling light, all of a sudden. As if the age and wrinkles had just vanished, and you were young again. Legs feeling like they could run miles, and skin, well. Your new hellish form wasn’t much of an improvement from leather skin.

Knowing for years you’d end up here, it wasn’t too difficult to take in. Accepting your sins and your fate as a part of your journey. It wasn’t so bad. There was society, and structure down here. Immortality being the only true torture.

The other torture, you had no idea where your dearest Alastor had ended up. It had been almost 70 years since you’d seen him, god knows what he looks like now. Your reunion was sudden, after all, he was a well known overlord. Yet, it was still something out of a textbook romance novel.

Over the next decade or two, you two spent every second together. Refusing to be apart again. You sharing stories about your children, grandchildren. Melting Alastor's heart like he never thought you could. There was so much catching up to do. After time, you became infatuated with the media, creating your own channel. it was called "Hellish crafts", which started with a bunch of silly tips and tricks when it comes to house work. Alastor didn't understand, but it came with a hefty income.

After becoming tenants at the misguided daughters of hells hotel, you soon began helping with advertisements. Which grew the channel even more. From random life hacks, to advertisements, to smaller channels asking you for your help to grow theirs.

"Must you film me, dear?" his hand covers his face as the camera fizzes out of focus.

"Yes! Its for Charlie. Lighten up old man" You teased him, filming the hotel lobby. He smiled at your expression, resting a hand on the small of your back as you did your craft.

"Y/n! Y/n! Another letter for you!" Niffty ran over

Alastors hand dropped, snatching the letter from the little goblin.. Eyebrows furrowed. "This is the third letter in the passed three days, sweetheart"

"What can i say, my channel is a hit" One eye was closed as the other was pressed to the run down camera that Alastor insisted you used. Still walking slowly around the hotel, trying to get a good shot. Alastor stood in his place, reading the letter. "Another delusional fan" He mumbled.

"Don't worry! i wont let the fame go to my head" You swung around with the camera, getting him in frame. The static of his aura interfered with the lens and gave your brow a small electric shock. Jolting you backwards.

"I've warned you about that" He chuckled, hand returning to your waist and pulling you closer. His other hand with the letter, raising, and a fit of flames emitted. Turning the letter into ash on the floor, which nifty didn't wait to clean up.

Life was like this for a while, constant letters. Some weird, some genuine. But you never got to read most of them, as Alastor made it his duty to send them to another realm before you could. was he jealous? maybe, he'd never care to admit it though. That was until a rather glamorous piece of paper fell through the letter box on this particular day. Stamped with Vox's logo. You got to this letter first.

"What the fuck?" Your almost angry tone alerted Alastor, whose body materialized next to yours in seconds. "What's the matter, my dear?" his eyes briefly scanned over the letter before snatching it from you.

"What is a 5 million subscriber?"

"Its the amount of people who support my channel, i honestly didn't even know it was that big." you stared up at him, waiting for some sort of outburst on his face.

"That's... " he thought for a second "Wonderful dear! Absolutely wonderful!" his arms wrapped around you in an embrace, spinning you around. When you first started the channel, with his knowledge, it was more of a way to pass the time. So, for it to be as big as it is now was quite the accomplishment. What kind of husband would he be not to support his perfect wife, he thought. Whether she was practically paying vox or not. His quarrels weren't hers.

"I believe you have some type of reward, y/n" He spoke again, putting you down and giving the letter back. His sharp nail pointed at a fine print at the bottom. 'Visit the Vee headquarters to redeem your reward'.

You both looked at each other, brows raised and a concerned look in your eyes. "I'm sure it's not important. I don't need a reward"

He looked as if he was in deep thought. Contemplating everything for a second. "You should go" "But vox is your-"

"Hush, little woman" His finger covered your lips "This is important to you darling. I trust you"

The smile on your face made his bigger, making you deserving of the little peck he placed on your lips before adjusting his posture. "On the condition that my shadow follows your every move"

"Done"

A few hours had passed since your departure, Charlie offering razzle and dazzle to escort you to the large mansion on the other side of the pentagram. It was quite the journey, considering the traffic. And it wasn't long before Alastor began to miss you, wondering if you were okay.

"Ahem" static gave Angel a brief episode of tinnitus before he swung his body on the lobby sofa, met with the lanky deer.

"Waddya want, pimp?" his attention didn't last long, his phone having far more interesting contents than the demon lurking behind him.

"I need a favor" his smile made the question seem a lot more sadistic than intended. His body swiftly moved around the sofa, standing in front of the spider now.

"If you want my soul, I got bad news for ya."

"Your soul?" He was almost confused for a second "No, i need help with this" he lifted his hand, angels phone disappearing and reappearing in the deer's grip.

"Wh- hey! Give that back" Angel leapt to his feet, reaching up and snatching it back. "Why do you want help with a phone? Aren't you like, from the dark ages?"

It took Alastor a moment to be able to admit to it. "I'd like... to call my wife"

"Awww, is someone clingy" angels teasing didn't last long before radio dials appeared in the demons eyes, radio interference filling the air as quickly as it had disappeared earlier. "Okay, okay" Angels hands flew up in surrender, Alastor returning to normal instantly. "Splended!"

It took a moment for Angel to flick through the thousands of contacts he had, before he finally reached you. Pressing the call button and handing the phone to Al. Who held it like an old grampa looking at a meme. "What do i do now?" he squinted his eyes at the device in his hand. "Just hold it" Angels voice became frustrated as he readjusted the phone in Als hand.

You had picked up the call a minute ago now, on your way back to the hotel. Being greeted to the two boys bickering. "Helloooo?" you sung out, attempting to get their attention.

"Oh. Hello my dear!" Alastor noticed to and bared his teeth in an awkward smile. "I just wanted to see how my love was doing, is all"

"How sweet. I will be back soon." You had many questions to ask when you were back with the comfort of your person.

"Do hurry"

[sserpente]

Forgiveness of Blood

What if Tav and Astarion met a little differently? What if Tav was someone else? A half-vampire? What if Tav…was Cazador’s daughter?

A/N: *slides a plate of Astarion-shaped biscuits*

Words: 1920 Warnings: mentions of rape, murder, and abuse, violence, half vampire!Tav

The gith looked tasty enough. Perhaps the half-elf with the long black braid. Hells, even the Tiefling who was seemingly burning up from the inside out promised to be delicious—sizzling, you’d dare say.

At this point, you were desperate. Any humanoid blood would do and this group camped out in the middle of nowhere, was just perfect for satiating your needs for a few nights.

You crouched down further, remaining hidden behind the bushes and the dark shadows as you licked over your humble fangs. You hated it had come to this. One of the few advantages of being a half-vampire was that you were no slave to hunger for all things sanguine. You could walk in the sun though you burned up easily and you could eat regular food without it turning to ash in your mouth to sustain you. Still, there was no denying that blood, as much as you loathed the idea, would keep you at strength.

You’d been tumbling through the wilderness for days now. Escaping the clutches of a powerful vampire lord was one thing (especially when said vampire lord was your biological father) but escaping a horde of mind flayers? That took its toll. You shook yourself upon being reminded that Cazador’s blood ran through your very veins; you were disgusted by your own body because of it.

You only knew about half the horrors he’d inflicted on hundreds, thousands of innocents, the ones on your human mother included. Pregnancy among vampires was so rare it was nearly impossible. Your mother, may the gods be kind to her wherever she was now, had never been in love with that monster, of course. He’d taken a liking to her long ago, abducted her, kept her a prisoner in his palace until the impossible happened and she ended up with child—you.

Gods, the few childhood memories still flashing before your inner eye when you rested at night were all but devastating, lonely, and…cruel. He’d meant for you to do his bidding, to become his right hand—always by his side but never on top, of course. Only you wanted nothing to do with that. You’d seen the way he treated your mother when you were right there in your crib. You never found her body. Whatever he’d done with it…you weren’t sure you wanted to know.

You were around twelve years old when you took flight and, with the help of a servant who risked and sacrificed their life to save you, left Cazador behind for good.

Your stomach growled and you took a deep breath. He had passed part of the curse of vampirism onto you. There was nothing you could change about that, whether you wished to or not. You were wary of the berries and mushrooms growing around here though and you had no energy left in you to hunt for meat. The only thing left was…blood.

There. They’re getting ready for bed. You’d wait until they all gathered around the warm campfire and fell asleep and then…you’d strike.

“Astarion! Astarion, help!”

Shit. You pulled away from the black-haired girl whose neck you were about to sink your fangs into, ready to bolt away into the darkness. A beautiful elf who’d kept away from the fire stepped into view, blocking your escape route. He glared at you with his fists clenched, ready for a fight. Something was…different about him. You hadn’t noticed him at camp before because…your lips parted. He had no heartbeat.

“You’re a spawn.” It wasn’t a question, not really. He was unusually pale, his stunning eyes were red, and as he spoke…you saw the flash of a pair of fangs.

“What are you doing here? Who are you? You better get out before I gut you,” he spat.

“Another blood-sucker? Chk,” the gith tossed in.

You lifted your hands in defence. “I mean no harm, please.”

A dire mistake, so you realised quickly. Astarion’s gaze travelled to the silver ring on your finger—a keepsake from your mother, one that granted her access to various places and chambers in Cazador’s palace: it was a silver Szarr family ring, a small round ruby in its middle.

Astarion’s expression darkened until it was downright…murderous. You had neither the energy nor enough time to react when he lunged himself at you. Your back hit the dirty ground with a thump, pain shooting up and down your spine.

You felt the sharp blade of a dagger pressed against your throat before you saw it. It was accompanied by gasps, yet no one dared to intervene—yet.

“You came for me, didn’t you? He sent you! Answer me!” he yelled, making you flinch. Cazador.

“No! I’m not, I’m…I’m hungry, I…”

“You are not touching my companions. I still need them. Are there more? Who else did he send?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, please! Let me go!” You wriggled a little in his tight grasp.

“You’re wearing his ring. You serve him.”

“I don’t serve Cazador!” you choked out.

“So you do know what I’m talking about,” he growled.

“Please, let me up and I’ll explain.”

A man with longer hair and a beard cleared his throat. “Astarion…maybe you should hear her out. The lady seems to be very much in distress.”

“That’s how they lure you in,” Astarion retorted.

“Gale’s right, Astarion. Let’s hear what she has to say. Just like when you found me, remember?” the red-skinned tiefling added.

The spawn above you took a deep breath and released you, though his dagger remained drawn and ready to slice you open. You didn’t bother to get back up and instead, knelt on the ground in a weak attempt to prove you truly meant no harm.

“Speak before I change my mind. I do so love a midnight bloodbath.”

Chills ran up and down your spine. “I…I told you, I don’t work for Cazador. You’re…you’re one of his spawn, aren’t you? I don’t understand, why would he send people after you? Did you escape? How does he not control you?”

“We are not talking about me, we are talking about you.”

“Right.” You told him your name and offered a weak smile to the group. “I’m from Baldur’s Gate too. I have no idea where we are now though, to be honest. This is going to sound hard to believe but I was kidnapped by mind flayers.”

“Trust me,” Gale said, “it’s not as hard to believe as you might think.”

“Yeah…same thing happened to us, soldier,” the tiefling added.

“It…it did? I…I’ve been roaming the woods for weeks in search of civilisation.”

“You’re a spawn,” Astarion said, dismay swinging in his smooth voice.

“No. I’m not a spawn. I’m…I’m only half a vampire.”

Gale gasped. “A dhampir? How’s that even possible?”

“You know...” the black-haired girl you intended to bite intervened, “…when two people like each other very much, they do this thing…”

Gale snorted in response.

You nodded. “She’s right. Although…my biological parents did, in fact, not like each other when it happened. All I ever wanted was to be free from his disgusting legacy. I escaped from the palace when I was twelve years old. I don’t need blood to survive and I can walk in the sun, I just…I was so hungry I didn’t know what else to do.” You turned to the black-haired girl. “I wasn’t going to kill you. I just needed a few drops to regain my strength.”

“Huh, I think I’m having a déjà-vu.”

Meanwhile, Astarion’s face remained blank. One by one, the puzzle pieces you’d fed him fell into place—and he understood. “You…Cazador has a daughter?”

You nodded yet again. “My mother was human. She was a captive, much like you, I presume.”

“Well that certainly explains a lot,” Gale murmured.

It would all be fine now. Astarion knew the truth—he knew you weren’t here to bring him back to Cazador, and that never meant to kill any of his friends…

“You are…Cazador’s daughter,” Astarion repeated. Slowly. Dangerously so.

“I…I don’t know what he did to you. But I-I’m sorry. I’ve seen him in action, the man is a monster. I’m not like my father. I promise.”

He was still ready to kill you, you could feel it with every fibre of your being. You were not welcome here, not according to him anyway. Gods, you hated you were such an empathetic person! You couldn’t even tell whether the tears pricking your eyes were because of the crude hostility you were met with…or the fact that whatever Astarion had been through must have been even more terrible than what you had experienced living with the vampire lord.

“I’ll…I’ll leave.”

“No. You’re staying. Darling. You are going to be the perfect leverage to guarantee my freedom. And if not,”—he shrugged with a malicious smirk—“it will be a delight to kill you.”

Your blood ran cold. “Astarion…please, I…”

“Hold on! Let’s all just take a deep breath, yeah? No one is going to be leveraged here. You’re welcome to stay at our camp regardless, though. I am Karlach.” She points at herself, pleased. “It seems like you could use the company. We got food too. Real food, I mean. That’s Shadowheart, Lae’zel, Gale—but you already knew that—that over there, sleeping, is Wyll and…that’s it. Halsin’s probably still out in the woods, you’ll meet him in the morning.”

Astarion growled. “Cazazdor’s blood runs through her veins. The madness runs in the family. I ought to stake you right now. I’m keeping an eye on you.”

They let you stay. Against all reason, some space was made for you at camp and you were spared a bedroll. You couldn’t say you were a fan of sleeping under the stars but beggars couldn’t be choosers. None of them wanted to share their makeshift tent with Cazador’s daughter—and you couldn’t say you blamed them.

Regardless, no matter how much you turned and tossed, of course, sleep didn’t find you even after a quick but generous meal prepared by Gale. Astarion had been ready to kill you today. He probably had if Karlach and the others hadn’t stepped in.

And against all reason…you felt guilty. The pain in Astarion’s eyes…you’d seen your own reflected in it. Only the gods knew what he’d been through… You sighed and climbed to your feet, making your way over to his tent. Was this suicide? Quite possibly.

At first, you thought he was trancing. But then, from the corner of your eye, you saw a slight movement of his hand, one that would have been impossible to see with mere human sight. You cleared your throat.

“Astarion?”

Nothing.

“Astarion, I…I just want to say I’m sorry. I know you must hate me, I understand that. But for what it’s worth…I truly am sorry. Cazador is a monster. He killed my mother when he tired of her and only the gods know what he did with her corpse. Not a single memory I have with him is a good one. All I remember is pain, loneliness, and humiliation. We…we might share the same blood but I swear to you, I am nothing like him. If you won’t believe anything else…please believe that.”

There was no response for a while as you stood there, dumbfounded, waiting for his remarkably charming voice to sound. Then, finally…he shifted.

“I believe you.”

You breathed out audibly, relief flooding your veins. It was all he said. But for now…it was enough.

A/N: I feel like I'm going to continue this somehow. Maybe. Potentially when they're back in Baldur's Gate? Choices, choices...

[marzipanandminutiae]

honestly the positioning of common-sense sun protection- hats, parasols/sun umbrellas, sunscreen, etc. -as either prissy and affected or unnecessary anti-aging obsession is one of the most dangerous lines we've collectively been fed as a society, for 100 years now

like I get where it all started, I do. there ARE health benefits to sun exposure in moderation, those were starting to be understood around the 1910s, and the 1920s fancied themselves the inventors of science and Women Doing Things OutdoorsTM because of some discoveries made and voting rights gained around that time. tanning was the new miracle cure! it meant you were outdoors and active- with no consideration that the "active" part might be what made people feel good, not so much the endless sun exposure! it spoke to European or tropical holidays!

(if you were white. if you had natural, healthy dark skin, no dice; keep rubbing heavy metals on your body to look lighter. there's just no winning)

and unlike forcing factory workers to ingest radium and other harmful fads of the day, the negative effects took years to surface and weren't yet fully understood for what they were

but it took root so deeply that when sunscreen began gaining just a BIT of a foothold...it became associated with the kind of people who use special wrinkle-prevention straws. and some idiot who thinks skin cancer is caused by eating seed oils just reblogged one of my comments on the matter, linking a weird study that claims tanning-bed use is somehow good for you

god

we are never getting out of the Skin Damage Is Beautiful Industrial Complex, are we?

[the--blackdahlia]

Storytime (Beetlejuice x Reader)

Title: Storytime

Summary: From this prompt list: #8 Ah, unrequited love. When your best isn’t enough. and #13: You aren’t really a good person, but god damn, you make bad look awesome.

Warnings: None

Beetlejuice was sunbathing on the roof of what was the town hall. Well, not really sunbathing, and the town hall was one of Adam’s models. He mainly liked to lay there and spy on you as you did things around the attic. He also liked watching what you were doing, even when he was the size of a Micro Machine. Today, you were sitting on that ugly couch, reading a book. A breeze blew through the attic. You hung up there when the Maitland’s and the Deetz’s were doing things downstairs. Despite being welcomed into their home, you just never felt you belonged.

Maybe that’s what the ghost with the most was attracted to. You were a loner, just like him.

“What are you reading?” He spoke up from his place on top of the building. Though his voice was small, you could still hear him.

“The Great Gatsby,” You replied, not even shocked by his presence anymore.

“Ah, unrequited love,” He chuckled a little, sitting up to watch you. “When your best isn’t enough.”

“You know that’s not what this book is about, right?”

“Isn’t it though?”

You put a bookmark in your book before going over to the model. You sat so you could see him. Book discussions with him were actually quite enjoyable. While he hadn’t read many of the more modern titles, he could talk for hours about old classics. And you really didn’t mind listening to him drone on and on about what Steinbeck was actually talking about.

“Well, I know that’s a theme, but isn’t the whole thing about consumerism in the 1920s? How status can be easily gained or lost?”

“All I know babes, is that Fitz put a lot of work into it and was upset when it flopped.”

“You knew F. Scott Fitzgerald?”

“I’ve been around 600 years. I think the list of people I’ve met would easily fill this house,” He looked so smug about it. You never knew if his stories were real or not, but he was a good storyteller anyway.

“Well, why don’t you tell me more?”

“Hmm, let’s see. Met Dillenger and Capone. Typhoid Mary was a wild girl. John Wilkes Booth had a screw or two loose.”

“You aren’t really a good person, but god damn, you make bad look awesome,” You watched his smile get bigger.

“Aww babes, you flatter me,” He stood up. “Why don’t you say my name? We could discuss more. I could tell you stories until you fall asleep.” He watched you ponder it for a bit before you smiled at him.

“Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice,” He lit up and clapped his hands.

“It’s showtime!”

[angel-of-the-moons]

The Arm of a God (And Other Things)

Khonshu x Fem!Reader

Summary:

You take a week-long hiking trip alone, despite the warnings at the lodge from experienced hikers.

But were you truly alone?

No. Never.

The bears and mountain lions were the least of your concerns. In fact...

They never were to begin with.

TW/CW: NSFW, Smut, PiV sex, unprotected sex, size difference, reader is a size queen, needy(?)Khonshu, creampie, ngl it's a lot like the dude's a god and like 9 feet tall I refuse to believe every part of his anatomy isn't proportionate to the rest of him, like he has a breeding kink?? God of fertility hellooooooo

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

Taglist: @drinkingwithkhonshu @gingersforeverbox @manque-damour @nikkivenomized

🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙

"Look, kid, no offense but..." The older man replied to you, his thick, bushy eyebrows pinched with concern for your well-being, "It's dangerous out there if you're alone. And compared to a bear, you're a small snack."

You smile at the old man, briefly taking in his far more rugged appearance. He looked every part of a human grizzly bear; large, imposing, muscular. He could probably take an actual grizzly bear in a bare-knuckle fight and come out even. He was an experienced hiker, a man born for the wilderness.

His concern for you was sweet. Compared to him, you were a tiny porcelain teacup; clean, and fragile. Sure you looked that way, but you trusted yourself and your abilities.

You looked small... but you weren't helpless. And you never had to worry in any of your travels.

"Thank you for your concern, but I'm covered." You chuckle sweetly, tapping the pendant around your neck. It was a small stone, scribbled with some sort of symbols, a crescent moon featured most prominently.

He squinted his green eyes at the necklace. He obviously couldn't understand what they said, but he understood it was some sort of religious object.

"Look kid, god can only do so much if a brown bear raids your camp in the middle o' the night." He says, clicking his teeth.

"Trust me. I got my bear spray, a good taser, a machete..." You begin listing off your protective items, some of which were bullshit. Most of your items in your pack were food and other important supplies.

He seemed impressed once you were done, stroking his thick beard approvingly. "All right, I s'pose. But since you've checked in here, there's a policy you tune into the lodge's frequency so if anything happens, we can come get ya."

To show how serious you took his advice--even if it wasn't needed--you pulled out your radio. It had about a 30 kilometer radius. An expensive purchase, to be sure, but a nice one. You tune it to the frequency he tells you and look at him as you clip it back to your pack securely.

"Anything else?" You chirp.

"Nope... Just... Be careful. The weather can get kinda crazy further up the mountain." He grunts.

You turn, giving a playful salute as you do, dragging deep into your lungs the air of the mountains after a fresh morning rain.

You weren't afraid for what the night brought. Not at all. But you knew that you've never had to be afraid when the moon rose.

Not when you had faith.

🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙

You'd made good progress, only having to stop and rest a few times throughout the day, free-climbing a few boulders here and there, and to check your map. Your destination was an old burnt-down mansion that was destroyed in a bad storm sometime in the 1920s. So, over a hundred years ago.

Nobody really knew about them or bothered to find them because they were so far off the beaten path, but you marked your trail to find your way back. If you even got lost in the first place.

The first time you found out about this place was a small article written by a backpacker who explored forgotten ruins on YouTube. Yeah, they aren't as exciting as climbing a pyramid down in South America, but to you they were. You adored finding them and exploring them, touching pieces of recent history that were forgotten far quicker than ruins from thousands of years ago.

And when you found them, you tossed your pack down and did a happy little dance; they were amazing! The walls were made of river stone, joined by concrete and held up merely by their own sturdy construction. Some of the walls had fallen due to time, but you could easily make out a few old windows and doorways. Every inch of the ruins was covered in moss, shrubbery, and old and young trees embracing what was left.

You'd even climbed an old stairway you found in the back for fun; it may have led to the worker's lodgings, or.... hell maybe just another entrance to the second floor.

But now, the sun was gone, and you'd set up camp in the middle of the ruins, where a small pond had formed thanks to a depression in the ground. Perhaps the remains of a basement or cellar that had caved in due to the fire and passage of time.

Your fire crackled as you let your water purifier do it's job, your clean water dripping into your canteen with a steady "drip, drip, drip".

You finished off your pre-packaged meal--a nice packet of spaghetti and meatballs with some extra protein powder thrown in--and was now letting it settle, laying on your plush sleeping bag as you stared at the night sky, the moon fat as it hung from the stars; your fingers brushing and caressing the small pendant around your neck.

"I am not surprised to find you in a place like this." A heavy voice echoed off the stone walls.

You sat up on your elbows and lifted your gaze, smiling as you spot him--a large, lithe figure perched casually on the ruins, the light of the moon illuminating the eerie bird skull in place of his head.

"You know how much I love doing this." You remind him.

"Yes, I know." His voice said softly, his body moving in a blur. In a moment, he was standing above you.

You crossed your arms behind your head and grinned up at him. "It's been a month... Having fun with your Moon Guy?"

"My Moon Knight." He corrects, moving to sit next to you, laying his staff down on the remnants of the stone floor, little bits of grass and foliage peeking through the crags.

"Yeah, yeah." You snort, turning to roll on your side to grin at him again, resting your head in the palm of your hand.

"So... Read on the internet about some crazy shit going down in Egypt. And... It felt like you were gone. What happened with that?"

"Ammit and her cult. My Moon Knight and Taweret's Avatar stopped her. My Fist killed her Avatar." He said slowly. "And for meddling with the heavens... The Ennead imprisoned me, briefly."

You sat up fully, shocked by this news. "What? H-how... Why did--"

His fingers brush your lips to silence you, the touch feather light but enough to cease your speaking.

"It is settled, now. Don't worry." He says to you gently, his hand moving to cup your cheek, his warm palm heating your skin while his thumb brushes your cheek.

You close your eyes and sigh, frowning at him. "Damn you, old man... Don't worry me like that again, or I'll kill you."

"Of course. I wouldn't dare incur your wrath." He chuckled.

"Damn straight you won't." You sigh; his hand moved down your throat to encircle you, flattening on your upper back to pull you against him so you were astride in his lap.

You slowly slide your hands up his bandaged chest, feeling his heat bleed through your skin and warm you to your core. Your fingers toy with the large crescent moon fixed to his chest, brushing his flowing robes off to the sides.

"You are a force of nature," He hums, his other hand sliding down to completely encapsulate your ass and pull you tighter against him.

"One I have come to appreciate far more after my imprisonment."

You chuckle and watch as the strips of linen as soft as a moth's wing fall away into wisps of mist, leaving his almost searing hot skin bare to your touch.

His skin was a lifeless monochrome, ashen color, but it wasn't lacking in life at all, far from it. You could feel his godly heart thump in his chest, feel his muscles twitch as you touched him.

And already, you could feel the hard length of him pressing against you, swelling and twitching as it came to life as well.

It felt like his arousal flooded into you, spreading through your core and riling you up. You could already feel yourself soaking through your underwear, a dark stain soaking through your pants.

Sometimes you wished he could come to you at home; or in a motel room at least, so you can wear something nice for him, some lingerie or...

His fingers brushed your lips once again and he tapped them twice, signaling for you to open.

You obey silently, letting the soft pads of his index and middle finger part your jaws, caressing the muscle of your tongue, your eyes locking with his own eyeless gaze.

A rumble comes from him, and he groans as you roll your hips against his erection, the want and heat almost burning you inside and out.

One of your hands shoves down to undo your belt and unbutton your pants, and Khonshu withdraws his fingers from your mouth and almost dizzingly fast, his hand was shoved into your underwear, toying with your swollen clit.

You moan softly, your own small hands gripping at the gold collar on him for stability as one of his large fingers dips into your tight hole.

He grinds his palm into your clit as his finger curled and pressed against that overly sensitive spot on the walls of your cunt.

"Tight..." Khonshu growled, his other hand rolling your hips in time with his other hand. "You need to relax for me, love."

"T-Trying..." You pant, feeling the cool texture of his smooth dry beak caress against the blazing heat of your cheek.

"Hmmmh." He sighed and retracted his hands from you. "Get undressed. I need you to lie back."

You scramble off of his lap, watching his throbbing length bob eagerly as you peel your clothes off of you, lying back on your sleeping bag, spreading your legs for him to see every inch of you that was ready and waiting for him.

He had been gone for a month, and you knew on some nights, even when he wasn't there with you physically, you knew he would watch as you'd touch yourself to thoughts of him. No mortal man could ever compare to the love and carnal touch of a god, and he always felt a pang of guilt when he had to leave you for whatever duties he had.

But your reunions always ended this way, heat, lust and sheer want for companionship. You had started praying to him when you felt other religions didn't do it for you, finding that you being the wanderer that you were, would find more solace in prayer to a god who protected those like you.

And you certainly didn't expect to catch his eye, let alone capture his heart the way that you had.

His hand rests on your knee, thumb caressing the bones beneath the skin as he leans over you. He couldn't kiss you, but you always made sure that was never a problem, even now, as you tipped your head to place a soft kiss to the smooth side of his beak.

"Fuck--" You groaned, dropping your head back onto your travel pillow when his other hand rediscovered its place against your weeping sex, his thumb rolling small circles over your engorged clit while his other two fingers glide over your entrance; the muscles fluttering in anticipation of what was to come.

You squirm with impatience as each swipe of his fingers only serves to ignite a hotter flame burning low in your loins.

"Khonshu." You breathed.

When you said his name like that, it was always sweeter than any offering or prayer he has received. More uplifting than knowing his works uproots evil to protect the innocent, more delicious than watching Ammit and Harrow die at the end of Jake's gun.

"Just a bit more." He tightly reprimands, his other hand squeezing your knee to remind you to relax.

"You're such a damn tease." You whine, wiping one of your hands down your face, biting your lip and gripping your hair as his fingers inch slowly into your tight, hot hole.

Another deep, rumbling groan comes from him as he feels your body grip him like he was your reason for breathing; dragging, squeezing, pleading for him to just take you already....

But he wouldn't--couldn't--until your body had adjusted enough for this to be pleasurable for you as much as him. He was larger than a human man, and he knew your body was fragile compared to his.

Of course, he always felt smug and prideful when he acknowledged the fact he probably ruined you for any mortal man you may decide to bed one day. Because, honestly, now.

What mortal man can compare to a god in both love and in the bedroom?

You arched your hips up off the ground with a moan, whimpering out his name when his fingers curled upwards. But by bit he could feel your muscles ease up around him, your sweet body becoming slick and welcoming.

Sometimes he would get so mesmerized in how your body reacted just to his fingers that he neglected his cock entirely in focus on you.

He could feel your gummy walls press down on his fingers, fluttering around him as he pumped and curled them inside of you, fingering you open so you could take him fully.

He said your name so softly that it crackled like dry leaves on the wind, and you had to lazily drag your eyes open to look at him, the moon and stars shining above and behind him.

He was beautiful, in his own macabre sort of way...

Oh, if the Ennead knew he was fucking you, you both would probably be in heaps of trouble. But you always figured "bring it on" because you had some choice words for those bastards if you ever had the chance to meet them.

But those were thoughts for later, right now you were focused on your impending orgasm as his fingers scissored inside of you, pushing you closer and closer to that peak so when he pushed inside of you with his cock you wouldn't hurt (or bleed, as that has happened before when the two of you got overzealous).

And of course, right as you were about to cum, your whole body electrified to the point you actually thought you saw sparks in your peripheral vision... Khonshu pulled his fingers free of your wanting body.

You practically sobbed in frustration as your climax was taken from you so abruptly. It was a favorite thing of his to do to you; edging you like he does. But you knew it was for more selfish reasons than anything else.

He leaned over you, bracing his body on his forearms as he gently brushed your head with his beak--his closest approximation of a kiss--and you felt something warm and wet drip onto your belly.

Sparing a glance down, you pant softly as you watch the faintly glowing fluid drip from the tip of his cock; the very tip of it flushed the tiniest shade of pink on his otherwise colorless body. Maybe once upon a time his skin was a different color, but in his exile, it has become so dull.

"Are you ready." He grits out. More a statement than a question, really, as he knew your answer beforehand. But it was important to him that you never had any reservations.

He would not take without first receiving consent from you, without giving.

He was not Set, after all.

"Please." You breathe, reaching out to touch his cock, fingers brushing along the silky soft skin, smearing the precum over the tip with your thumb; earning a delicious groan from him.

He grunts softly, nodding as he lets you guide his weeping cock through your slick folds and to your hole.

It was always breath-stealing, the moment he pushed into you, his thick girth spearing you open and filling you so full you swore he was buried in your guts.

You kept your hand low, feeling him as he slowly slid further inside of you, a hiss coming from him. You were relaxed now, yes... but still so tight because of your comparative sizes that it knocked him off kilter; your heat enveloping him so welcomingly as though he was coming home again.

"K-Khonshu!" You hiccuped, your eyes rolling back into your head as you felt him fill you.

Khonshu's leg moves, pushing your thigh and nudging your legs open for him further; the both of you making low breathy sounds as your body squeezed him instinctively at the action.

"I'm... going to move, now." He snarls, reaching down to caress your thigh as he pulls back, your body desperately clinging to him, begging him to stay inside.

Your nails claw at his arms as you grit your teeth, sweat beading your brow as you feel him slide out inch by torturous inch before rolling his hips back into yours, filling you up almost as quickly as he pulled away.

"Oh--oh--" You whine, barely able to speak or form coherent thoughts as Khonshu starts arching his back and rolling his hips at the right angle to make your brain turn to mush.

The first time he had you, you thought you actually died. He had you ride his fingers until you couldn't move, and then he had you pinned, still thrusting his hand inside of you, coaxing and caressing your muscles to allow him entrance.

You did bleed, of course, because of his size. You'd had human bed partners, yes, but none compared to him in any way. You'd probably never be able to look at a human cock again and get as excited as you did when Khonshu teased you.

Oh, how strange it was... Gods often looked down at mortals because of their fallacies, not unlike their own in some ways... But lifetimes ago, the Old Gods of Egypt kept close relationships with their mortal followers. Of course... None had gone so far as to lay with them like Khonshu had done with you.

You'd tried to tease him, the first time you got intimate, that you were his first.

That's when he proved to you that just because you were his first human, didn't mean you were his first bedroom partner.

The way he made love to you was ethereal, almost entirely unreal. It was so good that sometimes you thought you'd dreamt it.

"Khonshu, I'm..." You moan, lifting your hips off of the ground to meet his thrusts as they picked up speed.

Khonshu watched you, his eyeless gaze boring holes into you as he studied your face, as beautiful as the most detailed works of art in human history as you came undone around him, soaking his skin as your body pushes every wave of your climax out.

His pace faltered, and he collapsed back onto his forearms as your legs locked around him, digging into the taut muscles of his glutes as your orgasm nearly knocked him senseless for a moment.

He gripped your sleeping bag tight in one hand as his pace quickened, desperate to taste his own release that threatened to swell up inside of him.

"Almost." He says, his voice wavering.

"Do it." You moan loudly, dragging your nails down his back desperately.

"Hrr--you--" He moaned back, his other hand moving back to grip your thigh so tightly you'd be feeling the bruises for days onward, even in his absence.

"Please."

"You... are... always... so... greedy." He snaps out with each thrust of his hips, the sinful sound of skin slapping skin and your cries filling the ruins.

"Is--Is it really being greedy if you--you want to--want--" Your voice breaks apart as he angles his hips up, his cock throbbing and twitching inside of you as he pumps you full, the sensation of being so utterly stuffed enough to push you into your second orgasm, forcing out globs of his glowing seed around his cock as he fucks you through both your orgasms, riding our your highs together in a blissful, mind-numbing spiral.

You were vaguely aware when he pulled his cock free of your body, barely grasping at the threads of consciousness as he looked down at you, his thumb pressing into your lower belly as he watched his divine seed drip from you.

He half wondered, if maybe you would get pregnant. Wondered what kind of child you would bear. A demi-god, surely, but what kind? In his pantheon, the children of their parents rarely shared the same aspects. Save for some overlapping connectivities, that is...

He could almost see your belly swell, nice and round... And felt something tug deep within his chest, a drive to see if this little thought bubble could burst--to see if his imagination would be a reality and bear fruit.

But, of course... His mind was dragged to the forefront of reality when your shaky little hand caressed the skull that was his head, your eyes drowsy and satiated as you smiled up at him, your god, your protector.

Your lover.

As he laid next to you, he curled your body with his and watched as the last embers of your fire burned away, leaving you only haloed in the soft, silver rays of his moon.

He couldn't believe he ever found you

[midnight1nk]

So, this week's episode...

[spoilers below cut]

I KNEW IT!!! I knew that one of the two episodes left of the year had to be a holiday one aha!! *LE GASP* does that mean the last one will be sonic 3?

*nods* respect 👏

A Christmas special with TARI, oooh! and noticeably a shorter one too, huh. alright, let's-a GOOOOOOOO

(the following is my live reaction:)

aww, look at Tari being adorable (see that's how you get me, have my favorite characters do cute little hops and my life is yours)

bringing back the side characters LET'S GOOOO

CLENCH omg you're back I hope you can stay for the whole episode

ooooh tari's christmas list just dropped. hmmm let's see...

Saiko = KFC Theme Guitar (honestly slay) Mario = Spaghetti Necklace (whether he's going to wear or eat it, he'll enjoy it regardless) Kaizo = Scythe Polish Luigi = Gardening Kit SMG4 = Body Oder Spray (my man can't catch a break, "he stinks" canon) Belle = Nintendo Switch Case SMG3 = Dog Grooming Kit (for Eggdog awwww) Melony = How to draw Manga book (nice callback to "SMG4 and SMG3 Shop For Cursed Items" episode for Christmas shopping) Whimpu = Glasses Repair Kit Boopkins = Body Pillow Cleaning Kit (...) Bob = Karaoke Machine (that's actually sweet considering he is a rapper and the obvious choice would be a gun or smth, tari's a good friend) Rob = Corn Keychain

the cliche superhero transition *wheeze*

can I just say I love the fit Mario has on

1920's spaghetti?

i did not expect to see Sonic 06 (foreshadowing, eh?) and as a sonic fan, i gotta respect the hustle

now, i know it's supposed to be disgusting and you obviously have to put gross things here to convey that but... there's that eye imagery again.... *flashbacks ensue*

oooh Christmas party! I wanna see that!

aww tari did get clench a glove, maybe she didn't want to spoil the surprise too soon

also let's take a moment for that board in the bg:

"Random Text Here Shameless Advertising Happy Birthday smg4!" then something signed by a "Fan"

gotta love the small details

gonna be using this as a reaction pic for now on

Mario, don't you guys have a basement? pretty sure no one will grab the bag in there

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA OMG OMG THERE'S NO WAY THIS IS REAL THEY ACTUALLY USED CANTRO'S OUTFIT DESIGN FOR THIS EPISODE THAT'S AWESOME DUDE (am aware that the Team used the model before in a previous ep but it was only shown for a few seconds, this is BIG)

new merch, eh?

...i'll take your entire stock

Oh Tari, it's okay to say no. Four did ask if you had time

beautiful commercial....wha? Bob, da hell are you doing? oh the usual

charity? understandable, have a good day

PFFT HAHAHAHA that grenade bit somehow got me

oh Four somehow teleported outside, chair and all

*wheeze* the way they just latch on the back of the cop car like that

BOOPKINS? ...yeah I should've seen that coming. and he's on a toddler seat too

question for the people: is UNO a board game? if not, then boopkins, you got it wrong buddy

RIGHT NOW?! boopkins she's got her hands full

GEEZ even I'm getting stressed

gonna be real here: it was actually a good choice to have the plot at a faster pace just so we could feel Tari's stress rapidly building up

oh hey Meggy's matching with Mario (love that for the M&M siblings) but Saiko, girl, please get yourself a coat :( you're gonna freeze

OH GOD Tari, i need you to breathe please! all of this is stressing you out, it's okay to say no

...oh no

i can't look dude, i know Tari's technically fulfilling everyone's wishes but this isn't the way to go :(

C'MON TARI, HOPE YOU CAN MAKE IT IN TIME PLEASE

NO NO NO *flips table* oh poor Tari

OH NO CAN I GIVE HER A HUG PLEASE? *shakes my laptop screen* LET ME INNNNNNN

WTF NO SHE DOESN'T DESERVE THIS

TARI DON'T LISTEN TO THOSE VOICES IN YOUR MIND, YOU ARE A GOOD FRIEND

...three? let me turn the brightness up

yeah that's Four's model but for some reason has Three's voice and line.... huh... (I'll come back to this later)

dude, i literally had to pause and leave the room

fuck you got me tearing up. Team, is that what you wanted from me?

no tari, it wasn't your fault :( you didn't ruin anything

YES TELL HER, SAIKO

STAWP I'M THIS 🤏 CLOSE TO FULL-ON SOBBING WTF

FAMILY IS FOUND 👏👏👏

...wha? Three?

wait, this whole episode was you were retelling what happened to Tari, to Eggdog?

...that actually puts things in a whole new context (I'll talk about it later)

*gets hit by the book*

AY Congrats to Mango for your art being featured in the end credits! 🎉 what an awesome Christmas gift from the Team honestly

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

This was a fantastic Christmas special! This really punched me in the gut (but in a good way). Everything, as always, was amazing. Excellent job, Team!!! Too bad Clench couldn't be in the whole episode.

Oh Tari, my girl :( I felt the emotional rollercoaster along with her and I just wanted to give her a giant hug.

Me 🤝 Tari → people pleasers with a dose of abandonment issues

Tari, I've been there and I promise your friends aren't gonna leave you. What you can offer, what you're able to, that is worth something. It doesn't need to be material, just being a part of their lives is enough. No matter how big, because to them, it could mean a lot more than what you think.

It's what I've been struggling too, that the people who have approached me only wanted what I could offer, but not as a person. And it takes time to heal and open up again to people who are worth opening up to, but you'll get there.

So, to remind you (yes, the one behind the screen): you are enough. We are enough. What you do, means a lot more to other people than what you think. You'd be surprised how much a second of your presence means to people, and they value that. It's why it's okay to say no when you aren't able to, they'll understand if they truly do care for you. I promise, time will come around for you to find the good ones.

That's why I love this show. It isn't just a "silly meme show", it's so much more than that. Yes, it does have its funny moments but it can be emotional, dramatic, exciting. And even relatable. That's the point of stories. Like I said countless times before:

Every story, no matter how outlandish it seems, is grounded in reality.

That's why I'm glad this was one of the last episodes of the year, to bring it all back that it's a story that we all can relate to in some way. That we aren't alone. Grab each other by the hand and take one day at a time.

Oh boy, sorry for that emotional stuff. Just wanted to bring some comfort 💙 With that, I'm gonna bring back what was the most interesting of this episode: SMG3

It wasn't until the very end that we realized this whole episode was Three retelling Tari's story not only to Eggdog but also to Terrance.

(If I remember the layout correctly, right in the same nook above the fireplace is where Terrance's photo is placed)

So, yes, he is reading a bedtime story to both of his sons. (just gonna cry in the corner for a second) He's such a dad 🥺

Anyway, i shall put my theorist goggles on:

Back in the part when Tari was too late to buy the Crew presents and the voices in her head were bashing her for failing, we have SMG3 for some reason come in:

To be clear, that's Four's model (notice the lack of chip of the cap) but Three is the one saying: "And I thought I was evil..." Other than being the narrator, Three wasn't in the story, so the question is why?

The obvious would be that the Team simply made a mistake and forgot that they placed this in. Ok, sure, that's if it was on accident. But what if they did it on purpose?

As Three stated in the episode "Trash Friends", he truly believes he's "the worst version of SMG4"

Think about it: the basic roles for them are Four as the hero and Three as a villain.

If Three was ever in an episode all of a sudden is because he is the negative force of the story. Recall back to the episode "Meme Hunters" when Three was forced to be "the conflict" of the episode.

Now, it may seem harmless but to him, he was afraid to be perceived as nothing more than "SMG4's cheap and worst copy"

And also in "You Used to Be Cool", people have noticed when he does lay back a bit from the usual villain/rival role and bash him saying, "This isn't you."

Hero or villain, you're seen differently by everybody

Then there was the whole "moral of the story" part:

Ofc, it's a whole thing that Three refuses time after time that he's not friends with the Crew

Now with the context that we have, we just got a peek into Three's fears/insecurities. Basically: if he opens up and accepts that he has friends, they might try and take advantage of him. So, what should he do? Close himself off, be an asshole, and deny, deny, deny.

Despite risking literally everything, INCLUDING HIS OWN LIFE, for them, he's doing this to protect himself from emotional harm when he's the most vulnerable.

There's indeed a trope that villains, especially redeemed ones, would have a sense of empathy of some kind. They know what's like to hit rock bottom, it's why they can empathize with the people who least deserve it, like Tari. (Even with Four back in IGBP.) So yes, as much as this is a story about Tari, it also relates to Three.

How can you have what you want when you're the one holding yourself back?

Three: "I also need love, understanding, and tenderness." [IGBP movie, Spanish dub] Three: " I just want the USB in that spaghetti in your stomach so I can use it to gain fame and love that SMG4 has too much of, okay?!" Mario: "...Is that it? Silly SMG3, you could of just told Mario instead of suppressing your inner emotions and your fear of being forever forgotten." [Trash Friends]

I mean, look at the last episode, he was so happy to know he got fanart.

The pressure he has, the role he has to play, what he's perceived as. It all affects him. Sure, he doesn't care that he's not perceived as the standard definition of a villain but he is really as human as he can be, with fears and desires.

Another way to see the "failure" part of the episode is that Three could never see Four in a negative light. Sure, Four has made terrible mistakes but past the YouTube Arc, Three has never seen Four as a villain (again, the role of the hero thing). Four is flawed just as he is, but since he's the one telling Tari's story, he replaces Four with himself in the narrative.

It's not confirmed it's because he cares about Four in this instant but it's obvious he has done it on purpose. All because that's the role he plays, one he absolutely fears, "an evil and worst copy of Four".

(For all we know, he might've altered some other things in the story we haven't even known about.)

AND the fact that he's telling it like a bedtime story to his son(s) as a warning, so they don't go through what he went through when he was younger (his whole parenting of reminding them that they're loved and appreciated for even the smallest things)

So, long story short: me 🤝 Tari 🤝 SMG3 → underlining abandonment issues

I've been noticing that a lot of points from past episodes are starting to resurface again (like IGBP) and I do hope we get to bring back what's going on with Three. Then, we might get Three having the same conclusion that Tari went through: as much as he wants to deny it to protect himself, he'll realize that it's okay to be vulnerable and have friends.

And he'd be surprised how much of what he did was valuable to them. That what he seeks is already right in front of him. After all, he's already part of the Crew :)

He would just have to let himself avert his view and see the truth.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Josephine Baker (The Siren of the Tropics, ZouZou)— Josephine Baker was an American born actress, singer, and utter icon of the period, creating the 1920s banana skirt look. She was the first black woman to star in a major motion film. She fought in the French resistance in WWII, given a Legion of Honour, as well as refusing to perform in segregated theatres in the US. She was bisexual, a fighter, and overall an absolutely incredible woman as well as being extremely attractive.

Joan Crawford (Dancing Lady, Mildred Pierce, The Women)— God, where do I start!!! Her face is so UNIQUE and compelling and stands out so much. I love her thick brows and high cheekbones. She has a school-marmy hardness too her that makes her a little scary and therefore sexy. Her low thick voice also does it for me. Despite being an unusual looking woman with an unusual face, she never loses her glamour. Just a gorgeous talented actress, AND she was some sort of gay!!!

This is round 5 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut. the famous banana skirt is mildly NSFW.]

Josephine Baker:

Black, American-born, French dancer and singer. Phenomenal sensation, took music-halls by storm. Famous in the silent film era.

Let's talk La Revue Negre, Shuffle Along. The iconique banana outfit? But also getting a Croix de Guerre and full military honors at burial in Paris due to working with the Resistance.

She exuded sex, was a beautiful dancer, vivacious, and her silliness and humor added to her attractiveness. She looked just as good in drag too.

So I know she was more famous for other stuff than movies and her movies weren’t Hollywood but my first exposure to her was in her films so I’ve always thought of her as a film actress first and foremost. Also she was the first black woman to star in a major motion picture so I think that warrants an entry

Iconic! Just look up anything about her life. She was a fascinating woman.

Joan Crawford:

I just love women that are very mean.

she was a smoke show in every decade, from the 20s to the 60s.

The classic matronly beauty with amazing eyebrows

of course there's a space for MILF joan but i want to just take a second and say she was so cute in her early movies (like grand hotel and the women)! those parts often get forgotten but her stardom shines in them just as much as in her older #queen #icon roles

Misremembered for wire hanger hatred, this original screen queen mastered the art of the comeback and refused to let Hollywood toss her aside as she aged. The term “auteur” is usually revered for directors or writer-directors, but most critics have one actor they’ll give that title to as well: Crawford—anyone who knows classic movies already has a “Crawford picture” in their head. She knew how to style herself and promote herself. She made herself a star and kept herself fixated in the Hollywood firmament. What’s hotter than knowing just how hot you are?

(don’t think about Mommie Dearest right now) Joan was known for being super nice to all the like crew of the movies she worked on and she’d get everyone gifts. Joan would hold movie nights at her house and knit at the back of her home theater. Joan was sooo obsessed with other women including Greta Garbo, whos dressing room she would obsessively and purposefully walk by. She said that while working on Grand Hotel, Garbo grabbed her face and “if there ever was a time in my life where I would’ve been a lesbian, that was it.” But like Joan also probably did sleep with women including Barbara Stanwyck. Joan was so obsessed with Bette Davis, screening multiple movies of hers in a day at her watch party, constantly trying to spend time with her or do a movie together, insisting on the dressing room next to hers at Warners and sending her daily gifts… etc. Once Bette said that sex was gods joke to humanity and Joan said “I think the joke is on her.” Joan fucked a lot. Joan got caught publicly fucking a man and sent a letter to the woman who saw them basically saying “I bet it excited you” and the woman was like you know what. It did. Joan was best friends with a gay man. Joan was an actually genuinely good actress even though people mocked her a lot for being like cheap and stupid (partially because she never finished school because her family was broke). Joan was so insane and so cool that’s all.

[myrunawaysweets]

I loved your recent post abt human Alastor x reader in the 1920s. Of course this is only a suggestion, what if you continued on with this? Maybe like having them move in with each other, start a family? Perhaps have a tragic ending that resulted both to go to Hell, or maybe reader be a fallen angel! Just all suggestions! Have a great day/night/evening<3

I dont know how long this was in here, I was scrolling through settings to mess around and found this, so I hope you didn't wait too long!

But this is one of my specialties and I'm honestly really flattered that you made a request!

The next day, the cops found a bloodied body in the alley beside the club. The corpse was too disfigured to recognize, knees bashed in backwards, jaw hanging loosely, ribs tearing out of the chest and a smile etched into the poor bloodied face as it hung on the wall.

Surely this was the work of the smiling killer in New Orleans, who else could it be?

No one had ever laid eyes on the killer and lived to tell the tale... except you.

You had been held by the psychopath in a loving embrace, wrapped up in a blanket on his couch.

For some reason, when you looked into this man's eyes, his gorgeous brown eyes as he softly smiled at you... you felt no fear, no urge to run or hide.

Yes you knew he had killed people, that he was no better than a monster... yet you couldn't help but think what made him this way. Everyone knows not to trust a bad apple, but not everyone suspects the tree that bears bad fruit... so you couldn't blame him, after all, why would you blame the apple for the trees wrongdoing.

Instead, you held onto him and stuck close.

Now you peacefully kneaded dough as your loving boyfriend drank his bitter coffee in your bakery as a customer walked in. Marjorie, a nice old lady who came by every second day for a box of beignettes.

"(Y/n)! Have you heard the news?"

You looked up from your dough, flour had stuck to your apron as you wiped your hands "What news, ma'am?"

"Theres been another murder!" As the words left her lips you could see alastor tense up as you studied him.

The poor lady was shaking as she opened her purse "it was a young fellow around your age! He had such a long life ahead of him too..."

You could see alastors hands shakily lift his cup to his lips.

"What a terrible thing! Here, have these on the house, as a thank you for your patronage" you smiled, handing her the box and pushing her change back towards her gently.

The lady smiled with a thank you before turning to leave.

"Say hello to Mr Broussard for me will you?" You waved at her as she closed the door.

As soon as the door closed you slammed the oven shut with the bread inside.

"ALASTOR HARTFELT!"

The coffee spewed from his lips as he stood up to face you "honey listen-"

"Don't you 'honey' me! You promised you'd stop this!" You placed your apron on the counter as you circled around to meet him at the cashier "You said you were out to go hunting!" You poked his chest as you cornered him.

"(Y/n) it wasn't a lie! I was hunting! For the scum of the earth!" Alastor held his hands up in defense from your accusations, trying to reason with you and get back onto your good side.

"You know damn well what I think of your little hunting!" You grabbed your purse and started for the door before he blocked your path.

"(Y/n), dearest, where are you going?" His smile could not hide the panic in his eyes.

"Away from you, I'll be at mimzys until you can decide which one you'd prefer to give up "you pushed him aside and opened the door "me? Or your little 'huntin'?" You slammed the door as you walked to mimzys club.

Just because you didn't care that he did the murders before, didn't mean you were okay with him continuing them. Part of you thought you could eventually get him to see the good in the world again and leave behind this cold blooded killing, he loved you enough to do that at least right? Then maybe when you two grow old and wrinkly, God could open the golden gates for both of you... if your foolish boyfriend could ever stop hurting innocent people...

You sat on the stool with mimzy, drinking a glass of wine.

"I just don't get it! How can he keep choosing to go 'hunting' almost every night, mimz?! Doesn't he see the danger?" You sighed.

The short blonde looked at you "what can I say dollface? Boys will be boys! They've gotta have some sort of hobby, an most of the time, it's a gruesome one! Why can't they just take up knittin or even painting? Always hunting or boxing I say" mimzy took a swig "and every night? That's harsh! Doesn't he see how pretty you are?"

The two of you giggled.

Nights like these were always nice, just you and mimzy sitting in the empty bar, drinking and talking the night away.

"At this point mimzy, I think its better for me to just stay alone though, it doesn't seem like he's changing anytime soon and I don't know how long I can take this" you looked down at the glass, running your finger along the brim...

"Its okay girly" mimzy rested her hand on your shoulder "I'm sure he'll come around eventually, either way, I'm here for ya"

She really was one of your best friends.

Your conversation was interrupted when you heard a slight creak in the floorboards behind you two, making you turn around.

"This place is really getting old, I'm gonna need to find a way to get a new place" mimzy sighed.

The night went by fast as you two talked, and before you know it, you were right back in front of your bakery, sign lights were off as you opened the door, silently clicking the lock before making your way to the upstairs where your humble abode resided.

Alastor most likely went to blow off some steam, he tended to do that after your arguments/fallout.

You had left in such a hurry that you forgot to take out the bread from the oven, but luckily, alastor had seen you bake many times and finished the loaf before placing it on the cooling rack.

By the time you finished downstairs, it was midnight as you started walking upstairs, exhausted from the days work and alastor fiasco.

When you opened your door, you were met with a nervous Alastor standing straight and tense in front of you.

"I have something to say-" you both said in unison.

Alastor seemed to tremble as the words left your lips, still unable to make eye contact.

"I know it's not very gentlemanly of me, but may I go first?" His words almost came out as a mumble as his smile was strained.

You nodded, indicating he may continue.

"Thank you" Alastor took a shaky breath before looking you in the eyes "darling, I know I haven't made it easy for you with my... hunting... but I promise-"

Anger boiling in your blood, you interrupted him "do you know how many times you've told me that lie, Alastor?" Your nose scrunched up in anger as you tried to hold back tears "how many more times am I going to keep hearing this?"

Alastors wide eyes showed the fear he had of losing you, making your heart ache even more than it already was.

"I promise... my dear, this is the truth" Alastor took a gentle step forward, eyes trained on the ground.

placing your hands in his "I've put a lot of thought into it... and although I don't like the idea of being unable to kill those filthy vermin... I realized i can't live in a world without you in my arms"

Alastor ran his fingers gently over your knuckles, a gentle smile placed on his lips, almost dropping to a frown.

"I can change... and I know you want me to, I'll put in the effort to become the man you want, the man you need..." Alastor lifted your hand to his lips, closing his eyes as he placed a soft kiss.

The anger you felt died down, but still hesitant, you asked "how can I be sure you mean it?"

Finally looking back into your eyes again, he knelt down on one knee, still holding your hands "I, Alastor Hartfelt, would like to ask you, (y/n) (l/n), for your hand in marriage, I swear on my mother's grave that I will never take your words lightly, love you with undying devotion, and never kill again" he then rested his forehead onto your knuckles gently before he desperately whispered "please"

This proposal was not exactly practical, considering your argument not even 6 hours ago. There was no ring, no classy dinner, it wasn't how anyone would imagine a marriage proposal, yet here you were, heart beating rapidly as you felt tears fill your eyes.

Your words felt stuck in your throat as you looked into your lovers eyes "do you mean it?"

For what felt like the first time, Alastors smile dropped as his face held a serious expression "with all my heart, ma' cherie"

Your knees buckled as you fell into his arms, tears streaming down your face as you held your lover tightly, whispering out a shaky "Yes" into his chest.

Months went by, the wedding went off without a hitch.

Mimzy was your maid of honor. No one else was really there for your wedding, considering your family had cut ties with you years ago, and all Alastors' relatives were either deceased or overseas.

Nonetheless it was a happy and joyful union.

Alastor had kept true to his word and never killed another human, kissing your shiny ring every night like a reminding prayer.

Your bakery gained popularity since you were now Mrs Hartfelt. But popularity has its downsides... it wasn't long until women started talking about you, jealous of your position as Alastors wife.

The words themself didn't hurt you much, but the constant harassment and inability to leave the house without being called a harlot, that was slowly getting to you.

Alastor had assured you many nights before bed that things would get better, and if need be, he would give up his career as a radio host. The poor man would do anything for your happiness, anything to assure that you'd stay his forever...Even kill if you'd permit him to.

But there was only so much Alastor could do... it wasn't until one evening when you failed to show up to your shared home that he began to lose it.

Alastor was on edge, thinking of all the possibilities, you could've been held back at the bakery by a man who held ill intentions, you could be checking in with mimzy or got taken by a jealous fan. So many thoughts raced through his head as he slowly made his way to the door to look for you, eventually deciding against it, sitting back down as he patiently waited for your return...

Except you didn't.

It wasn't until a whole sleepless night had passed when he decided to go search for you. But of course, he came home empty handed. Were you unhappy in this marriage? Did you elope with a man he didn't know about? Did you realize you didn't love him and run away?

The second option was to call the police, something he's never done before.

The police launched an investigation, it was only until a month later, you were found in an alleyway, someone had called the cops about a crazy woman attacking a man, the situation escalated to the man killing her in self-defense.

They found traces of drugs in your blood, filing you as a drug abuser.

your body was frail and malnourished, pale like it had been weeks since you last seen the sun.

Alastor was called to the scene to see if this lady was indeed his wife.

When he arrived, he felt like the world was about to open up and swallow him whole.

As his eyes fell onto your pale lifeless body, something snapped inside of him.

You were never one to use drugs, never one to attack someone for no reason... something was wrong.

He knelt down and held your hand with tears in his eyes. Although he had seen many dead bodies in his life, this was the one body he never wanted to see like this.

He hated how your body was treated the same as the trash that walked the earth, like a lowly peasant when instead, the world should weep for the loss of you.

'This is all wrong' he thought, as he cradled your body in his lap as your blood stained his white shirt, but he couldn't care less as the last ray of light left his dark world.

It was long after your funeral, he hasn't been able to sleep since then. Every night he'd wait until daybreak for your arrival, like this was all some twisted joke.

It wasn't until one day he realized you needed revenge.

Yes, he promised to never kill anyone, but that was when you were alive, when you were beside him, when he was able to fall asleep with you by his side every night, Before you were selfishly taken from him.

He hasn't slept in days, maybe weeks? He couldn't remember... all he knew was that the man needed to pay for what he did to you...

It took a while but he eventually found the lying heathen.

There he was, sitting at mimzys bar, the same bar he met you, sitting on the same stool that YOU would sit on... it made Alastor sick watching this man live like he didn't take you away from him.

Alastor walked in, and sat beside the wretched man.

"You seem familiar" Al questioned, sipping on his whiskey.

The smug bastard grinned before turning to him "I'm the hero that took down that crazy bitch not long ago"

It took all of Alastors' willpower to seem calm and oblivious.

"My, you must be quite the hero then, let me buy you a drink and you can tell me ALL about it" Alastor motioned for a drink to be served, and the unknowing bastard fell right into Alastors wicked game.

It didn't take long to say the least. This prick was an easy target, and now here he was, being buried in a forest in the middle of nowhere.

You surely would not be happy with your dear husband actions... but who could stop him now?

For months, the spilling killer of New orleans went on a rampage, almost no one was safe, not even dear old Marjorie...

Eventually, alastor had killed all the men and women involved in your kidnapping and drugging... and here he was, burying the last one...

What would he do now? You weren't there for him to return to... all his plans revolved around your future with him

I guess all he could do now

.

.

.

Was Die

As if on cue, a bullet pierced Alastors skull straight through his forehead... as everything went black...

Hello! I've been working on this for a while now, at least a week, and I think I'm just going to make another part for this, keep an eye open for it cause it will hold the afterlife of these two lovers!

[lovemesomeeddiemunson]

The Proposal - Epilogue

Summary: When Steve Harrington is threatened with deportation, he blackmails his long suffering assistant, Eddie Munson, into marrying him. Steddie! The Proposal Au, Modern Au, Part 7 of 7. 1920 Words

Series Warnings: Blackmail. Food mentions. Mentions of unhealthy relationship with food. Cursing. Self harm (by means of tattooing.) Homophobia. Death of a parent. Abandonment by parents. Shitty parents. Homophobic parents. Parents with entitlement. Classism. Sexual situations (no actual smut!) Brief allusion to a panic attack.

Authors Note: Our love story is wrapping up now, dear readers. I hope you have enjoyed. ❤️

Steve just barely manages to contain his snickering from his position curled up on Eddie’s stomach.

He’s spent the last several minutes doing so, while also attempting to sort the disarray that the other man’s long hair had fallen into in their tryst, the brunette curls splayed out haphazardly on the pillow resting behind his head.

Eddie is letting him do both, laid out on his back beneath Steve with a hand thrown over him to cup his bare hip. He’s been poorly pretending for the same amount of time that Steve’s been fussing over him, that he’s not completely out of breath.

The longer that his efforts to be subtle go on, the more Steve’s snickering takes on life, rolling into something akin to actual laughter. He feels like since he’s let Eddie in, that he’s never stopped.

Eddie lets him enjoy it, even as he weakly tells him. “That’s no way to treat your husband after he just showed you a good time, sweetheart.”

Biting his lip in reply, Steve’s touch becomes even gentler as he kisses the slight pudge of Eddie’s belly which has made the world’s most inviting pillow for him. “You are absolutely right, vita mia.”

Eddie smiles fondly down at Steve, raising an eyebrow at the mild surprise of not being corrected, for once. “So…sweetheart’s okay, huh? I like it. Simple but effective.”

Steve rolls his eyes. Eddie’s belly rumbles beneath him with his laughter. “There he is.” Eddie reaches down with the hand not already wrapped around him in order to cradle his jaw. “God, you’re so pretty when you do that. How’d I get so lucky?” He asks.

Steve can’t truly hear what he’s saying - he’s speaking too low - but he can feel the words vibrating beneath his ear as he lays on Eddie…knows that they’re dripping with love.

And it hardly matters what words he offers, when Steve can clearly see in the low glow from the city outside their window when Eddie has mercy on him and signs for him, ‘I love you.’

Steve smiles, and mumbles back. “I love you too.” Warm all over.

And while the two of them had been going at different paces for sure in their efforts to learn ASL. (Robin’s suggestion out of consideration for Steve, who spoke English and Italian both perfectly well, but sometimes missed the answers said back to him.) It was still a happy fact of Steve’s life that the sweet sentiments that Eddie would offer with his hands were never lost to him.

Eddie hums softly then, glancing up as he thinks out loud. “I think I’ve loved you for a while. But I knew for sure when Wayne insisted I fight for us. I was so gone for you, and here you were, with the approval of the person whose opinion matters most. It all solidified for me then.”

Steve melts at his confession, peppering little kisses to Eddie’s tummy that make him giggle. His eyes rake over Steve - tantalizing muscle, little brown moles, and a smattering of freckles all on display but beyond that…There was evidence of Eddie’s love there in Steve’s tan skin. All marked up from his neck downwards, enthusiastic purple splotches where Eddie had taken his tongue and teeth and mapped out his claim on the man atop him, while he asked, “When did you realize?”

“I don’t want to say.” Steve replies, leaving one last little kiss, his tone indicative of his withholding something.

Eddie’s ears perk up at that, “Oh come on!” He teases. “It can’t be that bad. What was it? When you listened to the demo all the way through and realized I’m a bard in the most irresistible of forms?”

“No, not then. But you know I could wax poetic about the sounds you coax out of your guitar.” Steve teases him lightly.

Eddie huffs, “Fine. Not that then…So, what? Did you look at my ass when I bent over to put the little ‘sign here’ tabs on your papers? Couldn’t go another moment without me being yours?”

Steve shakes his head, asking “Do you really want to know?”

“Yes!” Eddie all-but shouts.

Steve purses his lips. Telling him mercilessly, “It was when you cried at the end of Free Willy.”

“No!” Eddie gasps, lamenting. “Say it isn’t so.”

“Sorry sweetheart, that’s my moment. I saw you tearing up, and I just knew.” Steve says sheepishly.

“I take it back. I don’t love you, you horrible horrible man. I despise you.” Eddie lies, so much love in his eyes as he says it that Steve almost can’t bear it.

“I despise you more.” Steve replies, as easily as he’d told him he loved him just moments before, the words not holding an ounce of truth, unlike his declaration of said love had.

Eddie snorts, gleefully reminding him. “Hah! Jokes on you. You married me.”

Steve groans loudly in reply, feigning horror as he gasps. “Is it too late to flee the country?”

Eddie makes every effort to sit up at that, wrestling Steve into the bed to tickle him senselessly, until both of them are dissolved in giggles, in full honeymoon bliss.

They had maintained it for a while now, with no signs of stopping.

Con behind them, they had awoken on their wedding day in separate beds as planned, before meeting for photographs, all dressed up for the occasion.

Steve in white, his suit well tailored and - admittedly - a little slutty. It had looked mostly unassuming from the front - with a deep cut that showed off Steve’s bare, hairy chest and an assortment of metal chains borrowed from Eddie and Robin, to Eddie’s utter delight…but then when he’d spun at Eddie’s encouraging wolf whistle and he’d seen the back of it.

Oh the back of it…With an intricate spine of fabric, there were details of climbing lace vines and blooms, skin showing intermittently throughout where the cut strategically showed off the tan planes of Steve’s back…The edge of the suit jacket stopping high enough that Eddie could see how well his pants hugged his ass…the man in white just on the wrong side of smug at how sexy it made him look.

Which, understandably, made Eddie feral.

Eddie, who had been himself swathed in black, in an admittedly simpler suit - but one that boasted a sewn in cape that had flowed behind Eddie like a veil draped across his back.

The black fabric was lined along where it rested on his shoulders, as well as all of its edges, continuing to be further split by that same lining down the middle in a dark, glittering embroidery of those same vines and blooms.

Eddie’s hair was fixed with little buds peeking out in a careful placement, and he wore no rings. Waiting anxiously for Steve to put one on him.

He made an elegant, dark compliment to the borderline sinfully angelic picture that his soon-to-be husband made.

Who, in himself, was not immune to the image - salivating over Eddie, his veins thrumming with his own barely contained lust, the pair of them only staying the course thanks to Johnathan.

Johnathan, the only one they trusted to take the photos for them ever again. Who mercifully dismissed them once they had their shots, only for them to arrive at the courthouse steps one - very handsy - cab ride later.

Flushed, giddy, and happy, they had gotten married from there in a simple ceremony largely outshined by their clothing, with the two required witnesses.

Robin, and Wayne (who Steve had flown in,) had both watched them exchange vows before a judge, and had oh so smugly signed to attest to so.

Steve proudly kept the marriage certificate close when it was done, emotional, while Eddie had found it unreasonably cute, and had kissed him about it.

After posing for a few more photos, taken on Robin’s phone at her insistence, the four of them had all gone out for drinks to celebrate.

In their formal attire and all, Robin and Eddie - or rather, Robin and Batman, played with Eddie’s cape while careening through the city streets like a couple of unhinged toddlers.

Unhinged toddlers whom Steve loved very much, but still. He had merely shaken his head at them and their revelry as Wayne walked with him, their arms linked together as they had been the night of Wayne’s birthday all those weeks ago, when he had paraded Steve proudly in just the same way.

In those moments, when no one could see or hear them, Steve thanked him. For his kindness, his acceptance - and the hand he’d had in making Eddie such a good man.

Wayne had bristled, unable to accept, only thanking Steve for loving his boy. For being brave enough to take that leap, and to have him in a way that linked them all as family from now on.

For better or worse it seemed, Steve was under his wing now - and consequently, so was Robin. A fact made clearer and funnier by the fact that Wayne used that influence to land Robin with the phone number of the prettiest girl in the bar later that night.

Go figure.

By the time the family of four had had their fill of drinks and conversation and had parted ways, Robin went back to her apartment where she would call Steve in the morning stressed about how soon was too soon to call a girl.

In turn the married folks headed off to Central Park West, having sent Uncle Wayne to his hotel…but only after a generous teasing from him, to which Eddie had been snarky in his playful reply.

“Hey, fuck you old man, I bagged Steve Harrington.” Eddie had laughed. Turning from where he was putting his uncle in his cab and shouting loudly. “You hear that world!?! I bagged Steve Harrington! Whoo!”

A random drunkard on the block also whooped, and an embarrassed Steve pulled Eddie along, more eager to get his husband home than he was to encroach on his joy.

Eddie readily obliged him, just as he always had.

The two had then gone home that night, falling into bed at the start of their lives together.

Lives that would look completely different in a few years to be sure, not just from where they had started, or from where they were now, but also from how the two of them had always pictured.

But life is funny that way. And with Eddie’s US tour, and Steve toting around the first of many little nuggets…While it wasn’t the life that they might have planned exactly…

Being together, with their family, their little one eventually seeing the world with them via tour buses (in which Eddie claimed the best seat, always.) And airplanes (where Steve got the window seat, always)…Or whatever mode that she and her eventual siblings would grow up traveling by, and making memories on…

The fact of it was always the same. Eddie and Steve together, two doting dads of a bunch of hellions. Who rapidly signed details about what they’d seen and how they’d been over dinner, whether it was laid out in those tour buses, on the planes, in fancy restaurants, or wherever else they found themselves…The details didn’t matter.

Because as it was, it was the best of both of their dreams. Everything that they had never dared to let themselves want during the years of paper-clips and pointless meetings that could have been emails.

And it was perfect.

— La fine. —

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