#and i’ve been to a lot of cemeteries

[moriphyte]

this morning i visited the oldest cemetery in vermont where robert frost is buried and got a maple oat latte and a bagel at a nearby coffee shop. walked around an overpriced college i got scholarship to and drove an hour to mass. plan on ordering ramen after a hot shower at the motel.

[madigoround]

How many times do you think those dead people cryochambers have malfunctioned or the power has gone out and the generators never kicked on or something where the company just doesn’t acknowledge it because their clientele are all dead anyways

Alternatively; give me a horror story inside a cryogenics facility why are there so many horror stories about cemeteries and not about cryogenic centers that also hold dead bodies that very much feel they have unfinished business because they wanted to be brought back to life before they even died, give me cryogenic ghosts that appear to the employees as desperate tortured versions of themselves because there is no moving on for them as their bodies are suspended forever and the pain of complete isolation in death and a torture they chose and paid a hefty sum for is a fate worse than the irrelevance they originally feared from death

[wandascrush]

Runaway Bride

Summary: There’s only one person you really want on your wedding day

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Weddings, love, crying, running away, lots of angst

Song: Someday I’ll get it by Alek Olsen

You were out of breath by the time you got there, crisp cold air hurting your chest. Your throat was as dry as sandpaper. Natasha was there, waiting for you like she always was. Your legs were tired from running, broken nude heels in your hands, beautiful and forgotten. The white flowy, soft fabric of your dress touched your body delicately, dragging and picking up the color from the wet mossy grass. Sore legs lowered down to sit on the grass next to the girl who once captured your heart…but she was silent. Just you two, alone. The air was so cold it hurt your bones. 

   You rested your head against the large oak tree that sat behind you two, making a little cove under its branches. So many thoughts were racing through your mind, “I’ve ruined everything. What will people think? I have to say sorry.” But once you saw your favorite spot waiting for you, with your favorite girl, everything melted away. You shouldn’t even be here right now, you shouldn’t have been thinking about Natasha, but she was the only person that ran through your mind. 

   “Long time no see, Natty.” 

    You’ve gotten used to her silence though, it kind of became her new character trait these days. Sometimes you pretended it didn’t hurt anymore, but it always did. A little more each time. Rain droplets started to fall around you, wetting every inch of dirt and stone. More green from the grass started to slowly seep into the beautiful white fabric of your dress. You knew her deep gaze was on you, looking at you with pity…maybe with love? 

   Your chest tightened as you blinked hard, vision blurring, “I was supposed to get married today, you know,” a sad laugh escaped your throat as you played with the fabric of your dress, “I looked beautiful. My hair was done and my makeup was perfect and-I was supposed to be happy today,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “I was supposed to be standing at that altar, looking into her eyes, promising forever. But I couldn’t even say the words. Because every time I looked at her, I saw you. And I hated myself for it.”

 “I’m so tired of missing you. Some strange part of me thought getting married would make me happier. But all I see is you. When I say my vows, it’s your name they’re written for.”

I think of you all the time, now that you’re gone.

    The rain poured down in relentless sheets, soaking through the dress. The sky above was a swirling mass of dark clouds and angry wind. Digging your manicured fingers into the soft mud, it felt like the only grounding thing. The feeling of mud seeping under your nails was the only anchor you had.

   You checked your phone, trying to wipe the rain off of it and realized that you’d already been there for over an hour with Natasha. You needed to get back, answer all the missed calls and texts. This would be the last time you two saw each other…something inside you was certain about it. Shaky legs stood up, using the big oak tree as support and grabbing the bouquet you forgot about next to you. 

   You slowly kneeled down in front of your first love, first everything, and pressed your forehead against her cold grave stone, “If love could have saved you,” breaths came in short, sharp gasps, salty tears falling into your mouth, “you would have lived forever, my Natasha.” Soft lips kissed the engraving of her name as you gently lied the bouquet down for her, grabbed your broken heels, and said goodbye. It took all your strength to not look back as you walked out of the private cemetery.

[sitepathos]

Imagine the angst if Bruce does end up finding a cure for the Megamycete, but when he injects reader, he starts to calcify immediately bc the megamycete replaced most of his cells already. Reader laughing maniacally as he crumbles bc he won

First of all, I hope everyone had a great holiday season, whether you celebrate Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, etc. Also, Happy New Year to those already in 2025 and to the rest of us still in 2024, hope you’ve found a fun way to ring in the upcoming year!

Second, I’ve had A LOT of people asking me this question (for real, most of my asks are about the Reader dying after the Megamycete is removed) and I just want to say… sips sweet tea.

Sorry, everyone, that is MAJOR spoiler territory and I’m not ready to reveal that information. You’ll just have to wait until climax of the series to find out whether you lose the Megamycete and what happens if you do, or if you prevail over the Bats.

But, for this individual’s ask, let’s just say the Bats do manage to kill the Megamycete, resulting in your death due to it making up much of your body at this point. You slowly but surely turn an alarming shade of white before crumbing into dust, choosing to spend your last few moments of life to mock them, laugh at them, and that “you’ll see them in hell.”

Bruce would be totally destroyed that he’s the reason for his son’s death. Once again, a member of his family is dead, but unlike Joe Chill and Joker, he was the killer, the smoking gun/detonator in his hand. He completely withdraws into his work, both as Bruce Wayne and Batman; doing anything he can think of to keep from being reminded that the last words his son said to him was that he’d see him in hell (he’ll gladly spend the rest of eternity being tortured if it means being near you). He had your calcified remains gathered into a capsule and buried in the Wayne Family Cemetery (despite Alfred’s best efforts to convince him to bury you next to your mother).

Dick is heartbroken, both at his baby brother being dead and that death was preferable over you being with them, your family. While Bruce withdraws, Dick becomes more present, dropping in on his siblings practically every day, asking how their day was, what they’re currently doing, do they want to hang out, etc. He also visits your grave everyday, telling you about his day, what’s going on with the family, and how he regrets not being a better big brother to you and he wishes he could change the past.

Jason separates himself from the family (except Alfred, of course), pissed at them for mistreating you for years, but mostly pissed at himself for doing the same thing. Looking back, he can see that he was so engulfed in his anger, pain, hatred, and sadness and so convinced that he’s the only one in the family that’s suffering that he couldn’t see that you were just like him; if he had gotten his shit together, he would’ve seen that you clearly didn’t belong in this family of batshit crazy vigilantes and you weren’t getting the proper support you needed. If he had, he would’ve snatched you and raised you himself. But he didn’t do that, and he’ll never get the chance to spend anytime with you.

Tim does the same thing as Bruce, drowning himself in his work, both as Tim Drake and Red Robin, but he goes a step further in his spiral into madness that even Bruce couldn’t bring himself to do: obsess over your remains. After your funeral, he dug up the capsule containing the calcified dust that was once you (he has a very concerning obsession with your remains) and brought it to a safe house he had prepared just for this purpose, using all the scientific equipment within it to analyze your remains down to the atomic level, confident that even in this form, you’re still alive (after all, this is a sentient pile of mold we’re taking about, so logic and reason have long since been thrown out the window). When he’s not obsessing over your remains, he’s obsessing over your game studio, having used Drake Industries to acquire it and personally oversees everything it does, telling everyone that he’s doing it to honor you.

Stephanie tries to cheer everyone up, but if even Dick is depressed, there’s nothing she can do. She feels extremely guilty about how she basically threw you away like a child does an old toy after her first week in Wayne Manor. Since Bruce has basically taken over your old room, like he’ll find you there if he goes there enough times, she takes up the burden of taking care of your house (a task she was able to take right from under the noses of Bruce, Tim, and Damian), going through all your possessions every time she’s over there, reading your books, playing the games on your computer, and even sitting in your bed. As she does, she learns a little more about you, making her grief for you even stronger and wishes she could’ve hung out with you.

Cassandra has only known true regret and grief a few times in her life, but her treatment of you and your death are definitely the worse instances of regret and grief she’s ever experience (and probably ever will experience). She accompanies Steph every time she goes to your house, helping clean it, keep your knick-knacks organized, and pointing out anything you may have hidden. As she gazes upon your various collectibles and posters in your game room, she wishes she could’ve gotten to know you more; when she first met you, she deemed you insignificant due to your lack of combat training and low threat level, but she now knows that you were not only a person, but her brother. She only wishes she would’ve learned that lesson before you were taken from them.

Damian is like his father, withdrawing into himself, but he also comes out every now and then to lash out at anyone unfortunate enough to be near him when his anger reaches its boiling point (Jason gives as good as he gets while Dick takes it all in stride). You were his brother and you were suppose to be by his side! When he realized his error, he had made plans for you to be by his side for all the important moments of his life, like when he inevitably inherited the Cowl of Batman, or when he took over Wayne Enterprises, or when he finally triumphed over Drake! But, not only are you dead, but you used your last few moments of death to curse and taunt him. He becomes a time bomb that goes off unexpectedly on a nearly daily basis.

Alfred is absolutely heartbroken over the end of your feud with the family. He knew that you wouldn’t go back willingly after helping the others relate the error of their ways, and when he learned of you being the host of the Megamycete, he already foresaw the fight you’d put up (so much like your father, he thought), but he never thought that you’d take it so far as to result in your death; had he known that you’d die he would’ve found another way of making you return to the manor. But now, you’re gone reduced to a pile of dust. He tried to convince Bruce that you should be buried in your hometown next to your mother (he’d want that more than anything, Master Bruce, he pleaded), but you ended up being buried in the place you hated more than anywhere else close to the people you hated more than anyone else; as much as he hated to admit it, he liked that you were buried in the Wayne Family Cemetery since he can visit your grave everyday, keep it clean from leaves, dirt, and dust and beg for your forgiveness for not doing more while you were alive.

[itsalwaysteatimeinwonderland]

Request: Spike x fem!reader (I love Buddy and Spike together, but in fairytale land he’s ours instead of hers)

Plot: She’s a slayer who works with Buffy on occasion, when Spike sees her for the first time his jaw drops so far that Buddy has to keep her from stabbing him and saying “he works with us, don’t worry about him” and the rest of that first meeting of theirs is up to you

I love this prompt! I did go overboard with it. So apologize for the long and winded answer.

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William (Spike x y/n)

Requested: Heck yes! See above.

Word count: 3.2k (sorry)

TW: talks about being hurt.

Summary: Once a romantic, always a romantic.

Masterlist

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Another night of patrolling. You were tired of trailing behind Buffy. Always second best as a slayer. You managed by reminding yourself that you were here to learn and not hate. After all, Buffy was a good person; she's just bossy. 

"Can we take a rest? We've been out here for hours and nothing." You say.

Buffy sighs. "Fine." She sits by a gravestone. "Spike said there was a big bad roaming this area. I guess he was wrong."

"Who's Spike?"

Buffy takes a pause. "No one of importance."

You give her a weird look. No one of importance yet you’re out there hunting because of the information this 'no one' provided. 

You hear a twig snap and you’re on high alert. Buffy takes out her stake and jumps up from her seat. 

A figure steps out of the shadow. A vampire. You're quick to lunge at them. You start by throwing punches and kicking where you could reach but the vampire was strong and fast. After some time, you're able to pin him down. You lift your stake to end him.

"Stop!" Buffy yells. 

You turn back to her confused. You look down at the vampire and are caught by how handsome he is. 

"That's Spike. He works with us, don’t worry about him."

"You're the 'no one of importance'? A vampire?" You stall in getting up from him. 

"I’ve been threatened before but never by a beautiful woman."

You scramble to get off, embarrassed and angry.

"You didn't have to get up on my account" spike flashes you a smile. 

A charismatic vampire. Just what you needed. 

"A vampire. On our side. Explain." You turn to Buffy. 

Buffy sighs. "He was bad. He found a soul. Now he's good."

You eye him up and down. "A vampire with a soul? Do you brood too, like Angel?"

He's caught off guard. He's too busy admiring you. Taking you in. He swore time stopped when your eyes met. If you were the last thing je saw begore he dies, it would be enough for him. 

He opened his mouth to respond but he was too caught up in your presence to formulate a sentence. He felt like a dolt. Like a schoolboy with a crush. 

"Well? Too good to talk?" You tease. 

He smiles and steps closer to you. He holds back from caressing your face. 

"Sorry, love. I was caught off guard by your beauty."

You blush. A smooth talker. You walk past him trying to avoid his probing gaze. 

"Are we done here?" You ask Buffy.

"Yeah. Tonight was a bust. Thanks, a lot Spike." Buffy walks past Spike along to your side. 

Spike's eyes trailed after you. He could drown in you and still be content. He formulated ways to be around you, hopefully, with you. 

The next night Spike found himself by Buffy's side. Anxious for you to join.

"Bored enough to patrol with us?" Buffy asked annoyed.

Spike was too busy craning his neck and looking left and right to find you to answer Buffy. 

You eventually run up to the pair. You look Spike up and down, a bit nervous that he was there. 

"The Nobody is tagging along?" You asked Buffy.

She assented. 

The three of you skulk around the woods and cemetery in the hopes of finding a vampire, a demon, anything. Tonight, seems to be another bust. Buffy couldn’t stop but worry for you meeting Spike. She consistently caught Spike following you, looking at you.

All the while, Spike is thinking of witty things to say to get your attention. He feels like such a goof around you. You were his ale and he was drunk on you.

"Well I’m done." You say. 

Spike perks up. He can walk you home. That's romantic, right. 

Buffy sighs but concedes. She is still watchful of Spike’s behaviors. She worriesyou’re your safety. However, she trusts your judgment and your ability to stay safe. After a brief good night you start walking away. Spike jogs after you and walks in pace with you.

"What are you doing?" You question him. 

"Walking you home." He says simply.

"What makes you think I can't walk home by myself?"

"A pretty girl like you shouldn't be alone at night." He kicks himself for being so forward.

"You think I’m pretty?" You look at him.

Spike's words come out in a jumble. He doesn't know how to respond, especially as you look at him. He feels like such a fool around you.

"Is this your place?" He points at a house nearby. 

Your attention is rerouted to the house in question. You assent but you're curious how did he know what your house looks like. You choose not to ask. 

Spike realizes that he has given himself away. Of course, he knew what your house looked like. He stalked you the night you met. He had to know everything about you. 

You both walk up to your porch. 

"Thank you for walking me home."

"Jus' doing my job."

"What job is that, exactly?" You tease. 

Spike is flustered and anxious. If he could blush he'd be a mess of hues of red. He chooses not to answer. He turns away and waves you good night. As he walks down the street he makes sure that he is out of your sight before he sprints back to his crypt. He was inspired. He was full. He was in love.

For the next several nights Spike patrolled with you and Buffy. Every night he'd walk you home. Every time he made a fool of himself in front of you. He wanted to redeem himself but just couldn't get himself well put together enough to show you he was smooth. 

One night Buffy decides its best if you split up. She makes Spike go with her but Spike protests. She reprimands him and he is forced to trail behind her. Spike is sluggish as he follows Buffy. It doesn’t take long for him to hear you yelling for support. He sprints your way, afraid for your safety. Buffy struggles to keep up.

One big demon was lurking down an alley way. You run up to him before Spike has the time to stop you. You get the wind knocked out of you by one of the demon's arms. Spike jumps in and goes for the eyes. As the demon thrashes, it takes him awhile to get to the demon's head.

Spike is successful in blinding the demon. He later ends its existence with a metal pipe to his heart. 

All the while you're knocked out on the floor, bleeding from the bruises you accumulated from being thrown around. Spike is quick to run to your side. His love mangled and bruised. Spike picks up you unconscious body bridal style and starts towards your house. Buffy blocks his path.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

He looks at her annoyed, “Protecting y/n. What does it look like?”

“Put her down or I’ll stake you.”

“Go ahead. You know you need me more than I need you.”

Buffy groans and moves out of the way. She makes a mental note to keep tabs on Spike. Not all of him was bad, but a tiger can’t change his stripes.

It doesn't take long for you to awaken in his arms. Your vision is blurry but you can make out a chiseled jaw and blonde hair. The realization that Spike was carrying you hits you. 

"Put me down." You say in a gravelly voice. 

Spike looks down at you, nothing but adoration in his eyes. 

"Can't, kitten. You're in no state for walking." He responds

You wiggle around in the hopes of breaking free but you're welcomed with pain in different parts of your body. You decide its best to stay put. 

It's a quiet walk back to your house. You could smell his scent. Fresh dug up dirt and sage. You were entranced by it. 

When you reach your porch Spike refuses to put you down. 

"Let me in." He says.

You look up to him wide eyed. Before you could open your mouth to protest Spike interrupted you.

"I can't take care of you if I can't come in."

"Put me down." Was all you could muster.

You were so afraid of letting him into your home you would rather drag your body than let him in. In theory of course.

As soon as Spike obliged and set you down, your body faltered and came crashing down. Spike hyper aware of your every move, and knowing this would happen, grabbed you and held you bridal style again. 

You sigh in frustration. You were too proud to drag yourself into your home. But you were too afraid to give this vampire so much power. 

"All I want to do is care for you. It's the only thing I've wanted."

You look up at him. You're met with sincere eyes. You’re memorized by the slope of his nose, the arch of his eyebrow, the swell of his lips. You give in. 

You open the door and invite him in. Spike is elated. He takes in your scent. He dreamed, momentarily, what your scents intertwined together would smell like. Crumpled bed sheets, soft pillows, an unmade shared bed. You were open water, and he was drowning. 

He eventually snaps out of his reverie and walks you to the bathroom. He sits you on top of the closed toilet seat. You point to a first aid kit. He makes quick work of your bruises and cuts. He takes care of your face first. 

The closeness was killing him. He can feel your soft breath. Clearly see the tiny scars you accumulated on your face from fighting demons and vampires. He can feel your welcoming skin. 

Once he was done with your face, he had to tend to your ribs that he knew were bruised. 

He inhales and prepares himself. "L-lift up... your sh-shirt." He stammers. With you he wasn’t Spike, he was William Pratt. Nerdy, small and scared. This was by no means a confession of love yet he was afraid you would reject his request to take care of you. 

You were initially surprised by his request but you knew he needed to check your ribs. You slowly lift your shirt, suspicious but welcoming. 

If Spike could breathe his breath it would be stuck in the back of his throat. To gaze upon so supple flesh, the curve of your stomach, the color of your skin. If only he had more. He was spellbound. 

As he continued to take in your body he sees the nasty bruises on your ribs. He snaps back to reality and is quick to tend to them. 

"Sorry." He mumbles as he works on your ribs. 

You giggle. "I didn't know I was that pretty."

He hypes himself up to speak. He hopes that it'll come out charming and honest. He lifts himself up to look into your eyes. 

"You're breathtaking." He sticks the landing. It's not much but it’s what he can muster up. 

Your breath is shallow and shaky. It all hit you at once. You’re, alone and semi nude, in your bathroom with a vampire who was tending to your wounds. What were you doing? You didn't know this man that well. You start to panic. Spike can see it in your eyes. He stands and gives you space. 

"What is it?" He probes. 

"I don't know you. Why are you doing this?" You pull down your shirt. 

He's quick to decide on his words or else he'll lose you. "I'm drowning in you." His words are sincere, desperate. 

You sit there confused and overwhelmed. A vampire, in love? 

You bite your lower lip, not knowing what to say. You didn't want to admit it, but you were there with him in the throes of the waves. You think of ways of not chasing him away. 

You stand up and walk to your hallway into a closet. You pull out a spare pillow and some blankets. 

Spike follows confused and scared. What if his confession was too much.

"You can't go out. The sun will rise soon. You can stay with me for the day."

Spike is instantly giddy and energized. To spend the day at your home with you, he doubts he'll get any shut eye. 

"Sadly, you can't sleep in the living room. The curtains aren't dark enough. You'll sleep in my room, I'll sleep on the couch."

"No such thing!" Spike protests. 

"What's the alternative?" You question.

"I'll be a perfect gentleman." Spike grins at you.

There he goes again, finding ways into your heart. Always present, always charming. You trusted him to keep his hands to himself; but do you trust yourself? 

You sigh and assent. There was no other way to the equation. You're sharing a bed.

As you get ready for bed, Spike wanders around your room. He continues to take in your scent, touch your stuff and even look through your hamper of dirty clothes. 

When you're done, Spike is already lying in bed, shirtless. You remember to breath. You didn't know if you'd last the night. 

"Something wrong, love?" He asked. 

You shake your head and get into bed. You turn off your lamp and you're both consumed by the darkness. It was quiet. Too quiet. You tried not to make it awkward. 

"Are you asleep?" You ask. 

Spike smiles in the dark. "Not yet." He was relishing the closeness, the intimacy of it all. 

"Talk to me then. I'm not tired."

"What do you want to know?" He turns to you, his head in his hand, elbow propping him up. 

You slowly turn to him, conscious of the proximity. Of the possible contact. 

"Tell me about you as a human."

Spike takes a deep breath, not that he needed it. He hated talking about meek and small William; but for you he would do anything.

He dives deep into who his character was when he was human. He added disdained looks and nasty remarks about who he used to be. 

"... nothing but a pathetic unworthy sack of bad poetry."

"Stop it. William sounded sweet, and caring. Empathetic and loving."

Spike's eyes widen. No one has ever referenced to him as such, unless it was his mother. He clears his throat. 

"He was something" he dismisses your words.

"I think I'd love William. He might make a good boyfriend." You giggle. 

At your words Spike is instantly fired up. Yes! This is his way in. He needs to tap into William's energy. He needs to be loving and soft. Caring and unconditional. Not that he wasn't all those things already, but he doubted his ability to conquer your heart as Spike. 

"A rose by any other name is still a rose." Spike suggested. 

You smiled at the idea of Spike still being the same sensitive poet. You pondered on the possibilities. 

You guys talked for the rest of the night until the sun came up. Soike felt more confident and was witty, as he wanted to. 

Due to your extensive talks you both slept in until the sun set. You were the first one to wake up and went straight to shower and get ready for patrolling. Spike woke up to an empty bed. He panics. Was last night a dream. He jumps out of bed and searches for you around the house. Spike spots you as you exit the bathroom. He breathes a deep sigh.

Spike pretends to be put together and follows suit in showering and getting ready. 

As you walk out if the house and onto the streets Spike feels bold and reaches for your hand. Not the whole way. Just caresses and soft touches. He's testing the water. You don't move your hand away and Spike smiles. One you reach the cemetery he decides to go for it and grabs your hand. He waits. One second. Two. Three. You didn't pull your hand away. Success! However, you quickly let go of his hand when Buffy appears.

You greet each other. Your face red in embarrassment. You couldn’t get caught flirting with a vampire. You’re not Buffy, but you can see the appeal of such a pairing.

Buffy is weary and worried about you. But she’s too busy and tired to be patrolling tonight. She hates herself for thinking this, but she had no choice but to let you two patrol without her.

Spike is excited to have time with you, even if it means fighting baddies. He is watchful of your every move, how your scent fills the air, your soft breathing as you weave through the woods. Another slow night, nothing to be done. Spike pushes himself to invite you into his crypt. He wants to spend more time with you, bring you into his world. You agree.

You admire how he has made a place of death his home. You sit on the couch he has in his ‘living room.’ Spike explains that he hasn’t any refreshments to offer. You don’t care. He is quick to take a seat by you. He suggests watching TV. You decline.

“What do you want to do then?”

You’re feeling wild and bold. You wondered what it felt to kiss a vampire. You had shared too much time already. You knew his intentions. Why not take it a step farther. You felt like you were moving too quickly but time waits for no one.

“This.” You say as you lean into kiss him.

Spike is surprised but wants this more than his undead life. The kiss is chaste, soft. You back away to see his expression. However, Spike is too into the process to end it so quickly. He places his hands on the side of your face and leans in for a deeper kiss. He takes your taste, tropical fruit and sweetness. You give in, wanting this moment to last.

Spike’s kiss is rougher, wanting, full of desire. You move closer wanting to be engulfed by him. You didn’t know this is what you needed but here you were, being one with him. Spike asks for permission with his tongue to explore your mouth. You give in. The ambience is hot and heavy. Your breath is shallow. Your body is coming alive and you want more. Spike catches onto the cues. He can tell that this has turned into lust. He wants love. He slows down the kiss until you separate.

You’re confused and disappointed. You look at him for answers.

“I thought you wanted me.”

“More than life.” He says.

“Then, what’s wrong?”

“I want all of you. Not just your body.”

You blush. A vampire in love, what a sight to see. You didn’t know what it would look like to love a vampire. You didn’t know if this was wise, but you were too involved to back out now. You lean in for one last kiss.

“We can take it slow.” You agree as you walk up and leave the crypt.

Spike is elated and excited. He is full of life and energy. He may be drowning in you but you were right with him swimming in the same turbulent sea. He wanted you to be his life saver, the reason for him to continue on. He knew of love but never of this intensity. Nothing compared to this feeling. He walked down to his room to lay in bed. He reaches for a notebook and starts writing poetry. You were his muse, and he was -after all- a poet in love.  

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

So… I already have like 70 Sterek fic tabs open on my phone (there’s so many good authors in this fandom it’s not my fault!) but I was thinking that despite some fantastic tumblr posts about it I don’t think I’ve actually read a necromancer!Stiles fic.

I went through your fabulous tag page but I didn’t see one so hopefully I didn’t miss it. If you or your loverly followers have any recs I sure would appreciate it!

(And no rush, I seriously have so many tabs but I am greedy)

Hi @arora-kayd! @kevaaronday made this list for you.

Murder, Magic and a Masterclass in Denial by Noxnthea (9/9 | 41,940 | Explicit | Sterek) “No, seriously, I need to talk to you really quick,” Stiles interrupts. “Before Peter gets out here.” 

Derek braces himself. “Okay.”

“I need you to make sure I can be alone with the body for a few minutes.” 

Derek stares at him. “You get that that’s like…a really weird request, right?”

In the three months since Derek left the NYPD and joined the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit, he’s gotten used to a lot of things: he’s learned to deal with seeing Peter every day, he knows how to hide his enhanced senses on the job, and he doesn’t mind the late nights and early mornings.

One thing he’s still not used to, however, is Stiles Stilinski.

You only Live Once… or Twice by WonderWolf (6/6 | 32,949 | Explicit | Sterek) “Anything,” Derek’s eyes are determined, boring into Stiles’. 

Stiles huffs a laugh, “Careful there, big guy. Don’t want to be promising anything to every necromancer you meet. Some might ask for your soul or someth—”

“I’ll give you my soul to bring her back,” Derek says, his voice steady and strong with resolve, “if that’s what you want.”

Stiles’ mouth gapes open for a moment before his brain kicks into gear and he stutters out, “N-no, I don’t ask for that. I only ask for money.”

(Or the one in which Stiles is a necromancer who needs help stopping a rogue alpha and Derek is the solution, but at what cost?)

I See Dead People by Asteria_Star (13/13 | 15,318 | Teen | Sterek) Stiles has been able to see Ghosts for as long as he could remember. Having a ghost tell you that you are a necromancer and that the supernatural exists was nothing. What isn't nothing is trying to navigate your best friend becoming a werewolf while trying to hide what you are. 

Features Stiles and Talia having a mother-son dynamic that I didn't know I needed.

Sarcasm, Suspicion and Raising the Dead: A Necromancer’s Guide to Getting the Guy (Your Murderer and/or Your Boyfriend) by Aerica_Menai (1/1  |13,917 | Teen | Sterek) Stiles met Derek’s blue, blue eyes - still striking, even bloodshot from crying - as he slid into the other side of the booth. Immediately, the request came tumbling forward: “Could - would you bring her back?”

“I can - I will - but only temporarily,” Stiles warned.

“Thank you,” he breathed. “Whatever extra time I get with her will be - “ He took a deep breath as his voice broke. “ - appreciated,” he finally choked out.

And that’s when Stiles knew he was in trouble.

formed in the very poetry of nature by frankie_31 (4/4 | 7,984 | Explicit | Steter) Stiles can raise the dead. Stiles can put them back down. But what happens when one of his undead minions stays up?

Peter Hale is back from the dead. Kind of. And he'd like to stay that way.

Burial Rituals by aurevell (1/1 | 4,989 | Gen | Sterek) The necromancer freezes halfway over the fence, stuttering to a halt the second Derek flashes his red eyes. It’s an awkward pose to hold: leg hiked up over the waist-high bars, hands gripping the rail for balance. The fence’s wrought-iron spears dig into his calf a bit as he settles, clearly caught off guard.

“Uh,” he says lamely, his face pale in the scant moonlight. “Shit.”

Derek guards an abandoned cemetery. Stiles is the necromancer trying to break in.

[bullet-prooflove]

Safe: Leroy Jethro Gibbs x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @riley-kore @ilovemark1951 @love-affair-with-fandoms @mishkatelwarriorgoddess

Companion piece to:

The Ice Queen - Gibbs meets The Ice Queen for the first time.

Break The Ice - A act of decency helps Gibbs to break the ice.

Umbrella - Gibbs gets more than he bargained for when he offers you his umbrella.

Grave - You and Gibbs bump into each other in an unexpected place.

The thing that Gibbs likes most about you is that you don’t give damn about what anybody else thinks. That becomes blatantly obvious over the months he continues works with you. You’re a consummate professional, a fierce victim advocate and the most compassionate woman he’s ever met.

The way you speak to the families, it’s an art form.

He could only wish for more people like you. People who haven’t become desensitised by everything they’ve seen. People who still give a shit.

“I don’t know how you do it.” He says to you one night over drinks at a bar he’s already forgotten the name of. “How do you stay sane after seeing so much death?”

Meeting up like this, it’s starting to become a regular thing between the two of you. You’ve been doing it ever since the day you ran into each other at the cemetery. Most nights he grabs a few drinks with his team but Thursdays, he reserves those especially for you.

“I know that people think I’m cold, detached…” You say as you swirl the ice cubes around whiskey glass. “But when I look down at them, I see the person they were. Lieutenant Colchester’s calloused fingers from where he played guitar, the scar on Ensign Lopez’s knee from a cycling accident. They all had hobbies, a life, people who care about them.” You take a sip from the glass. “I guess that makes me driven.”

“It’s a good way to be.” Gibbs tells you, his gaze meeting yours. “You fight for them, even when the lead on the case tells you, you shouldn’t.”

He’s talking about the blow up they all overheard coming from Family and Sexual Violence and Threat Management Unit this afternoon. You have a dead Corporal on your table and Special Agent in Charge LaRue is shoving the file to the bottom of the pile because the deceased used to be hook to put food on the table before she joined the service.

“I’m gonna be person non-grata in that department for a very long time.” You state as you signal to the bartender for another round. “They’ve already requested another M.E.”

“It was the right thing to do.” Gibbs tells you as if it’s something irrefutable.

That’s one of the reasons you like about spending time with Gibbs. There’s no platitudes, there’s only frankness. He’s a man without an agenda and you can not express just how refreshing that is.  

“I know.” You say, pushing your used glass away from you. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat if I thought it would bring any of them justice.”

You damn well would too, he knows it.

It’s an hour later that he begins to tug on his jacket. It’s the same everytime. Eleven o’clock hits and he walks you home. Only tonight you aren’t pulling on your coat, your still sitting there, your finger tracing around the top of the glass you’ve been drinking from.

“Maeve?” He questions, tilting his head to meet your gaze.

“I think I’m gonna stay a while.” You tell him and he sits back down on his stool.

“Alright, well I’ve got nowhere else to be-”

“Jethro.” You say softly, your hand coming to rest on top of his ensuring you have his full attention. “You know that feeling you get, that frustration that builds and builds until you end up starting a fight. I get that too, only I fuck it out.”

“Oh.” He says as it dawns on him. “I’m cock blocking you.”

“You look like a big strapping Marine, ready to beat the shit out of anyone that approaches me.” You inform him and he supposes he kinda does.

“I’m not sure how comfortable I feel…” He begins because his momma taught him a lot better than to leave a woman alone in a bar.

“It’s not about your comfort.” You remind him, your voice turning brittle. “It’s about me getting what I need and what I need is to get fucked.”

He doesn’t like it, not because of the sex but rather the danger it presents. You’ll be taking home you don’t know, someone who could hurt you or worse. He also knows he can’t stop you, that you’re going to do this no matter what he says because it is a need, one that he recognises all too well.

“Will you call me or page me?” He asks you as he raises to his feet once again. “Just so I know you’re safe.”

You sigh, rapping your fingertips upon the surface on the table. He gets the feeling you aren’t used to people actually giving a shit about you. Well tough, he does and you’re just gonna have to get used to that.

“Maybe.” You concede. “If you leave within the next five minutes.”

Maybe…

That’s the best he’s gonna get for now.

It’s a couple of hours later that his pager chirps. He’s doing push ups in the dark on the bedroom floor, trying to chase away the images of another man touching you, tasting you, fucking you. He’s not a jealous man but he is protective, he would go to hell and back for the people he cares about and apparently you’re one of them. He picks up the tiny black device, his gaze fixating on the letters as they scroll across screen.

S-A-F-E.

Safe.

Love Gibbs? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[britcision]

So I’ve been thinking about cultural Christianity lately and how people tend to get very upset about it without really understanding what it is, so here is a primer

Cultural Christianity is not a choice you make. It does not mean you are Christian, or even that you remotely like Christianity; a lot of people who vehemently hate the religion do so because of their own cultural Christianity

It is not a shortcoming, or a moral failing, or a sin. It just means that the culture you were raised in was predominantly Christian.

Note: I did not say “majority Christian”. Christians don’t need to be a majority to have a dominant cultural influence

Cultural Christianity means you inherently understand and probably use swearwords like “damn”, “hell”, or a variation on the name “Jesus Christ”

It means when I say cultural Christianity is not a sin, you understand exactly what I mean without needing to have it explained - and you probably know the phrase “original sin” or “seven deadly sins”, even if not in full detail

It means hearing about Hades, god of the dead, wealth, and volcanoes, and assuming he’s the bad guy of Greek mythology… y’know, like Satan

(EVERYONE went to Hades when they died. The Elysian Fields, where the best heroes went, was in Hades’ underworld. The Eleusinian mysteries, a cult to Demeter and Persephone, was basically about asking them to tell Hades to give you a cool afterlife

And he would cuz he drank his “respect wife” juice if not all of his “respect women” juice. Did still kidnap her. But she is a major feature and often makes the decision herself or influences his when they’re mentioned together

Meanwhile, people try and cast Zeus as a good parent)

It means having to have a dreidel, a menorah, or a kinara explained to you at a time when you already knew about Christmas trees and Santa

(Yes, Santa Claus, Saint Nicholas, major host of the Mass of Christ, is culturally Christian. Even though Coke invented his aesthetic - that’s the “cultural” part)

It’s when you go to make up a new non-religious or pan religious winter celebration… that is centred around a day with family and gifts which is obviously the 25 of December. Maybe counting down 12 days before

It’s defaulting to calling a place of worship you don’t know the name of a “church”

Cultural Christianity is not something people have a choice in; you don’t pick where you’re born, and there are so many other cultures in places like Canada, America, and Britain that are culturally Christian out the ass! But… you will catch Contact Christianity in any of these places

It’s damn near impossible to consume any American or most Western media without brushing across it; cross imagery is everywhere, Christian demons and devils sneak into media all around the world

Western (and some other) Gothic fashion leans heavily on gothic architecture and, yeah, heavily Catholic imagery

Now, brushing across the media in other parts of the world does not impart the same level of cultural Christianity as growing up in a city with four churches on a single block and a Santa Claus parade

And you can grow up heavily in an entirely different culture even in the Bible Belt (but you know what Bible Belt means); you don’t have to abandon all other culture just because Christianity has a chokehold on your home

But when December (or fucking November these days) hits and you hear Mariah Carey in 3/6 stores, yes, you probably have some cultural Christianity

You sure as hell don’t need to be able to name half the denominations (can you name more than 4?), you may never set foot in a Christian church in your life, and still have a cultural Christian influence

If your street names have “saint” in them

If there are crosses or angels on more than half the graves in a cemetery

If you know how to cross yourself but aren’t really sure when you learned; you didn’t look it up or do research to find out

Now note: none of these have an inherent moral judgement attached to them

It’s just about what the culture you live in has taught you about the world, and there’s no culture that is magically the Right One or better than the others

There’s no reason to expect even specifically Christian culture to be the same around the world; it isn’t. It has the same root, but what flowers from the soil is another matter entirely

There is nothing wrong with acknowledging that you have culturally Christian influences and biases; being human is 90% absorbing information from the world around us and half processing it at best - there’s just too much input, and intentionally filtering out Everything Christian Ever?

Well unless you started at 2 years old, odds are pretty good it’s not really a personal choice kinda thing

And you cannot compensate for these influences unless you acknowledge that they exist, that you did not choose to form them, and that you do get to choose how they affect your actions going forward

Christmas stuffed a bunch of other religious traditions into a single package to make itself popular, but if you learned them as Christmas traditions first… do I even need to say it?

[sashaisready]

Since You've Been Gone: Chapter 3

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Series Masterlist

After a regrettable first meeting in the cemetery, you discover that you have something in common with a certain member of the Avengers. Unfortunately, you can't choose your neighbours, even in death.

(Setting is approx. post TFATWS)

Hi all, sorry for the delay with this – I ran out of steam a little with this story so I’ve decided to leave it as a mini series. Maybe I’ll come back to it in future and expand but for now I’ve run out of road and am lacking inspiration in where to take it – so this will be the final part. Thanks for reading! As always, reblogs and comments are appreciated.

You sat within the safe walls of your apartment, watching the rain batter the windows outside. It had been raining all day, far heavier than the city was used to at this time of year. Thank god you’d been working from home today, commuting would’ve been a bitch. You peered outside to watch the small flood in the parking lot beneath your window. Water steadily rose as it licked the bottom of car tyres, and you prayed that would be the worst of it.

You’d been anxious all day as you watched it get worse out there, watched the puddles spread and the flower baskets soak. You kept thinking about the cemetery, how the grave might be faring in these conditions. The hardy stone would be alright of course, but what about the candle holder? The ornaments? The flowers?

It would all probably be fine, normally bad weather did little else but move a few things around at the gravesite…but you couldn’t remember the last time it was this bad. It made you nervous thinking about it as the wind picked up.

It wasn’t like you could go check it out now, driving in this mess would be a nightmare and a death wish.

You moved away from the window and made yourself a cup of herbal tea as you tried to think about something else. Anything else.

So, you thought of Bucky.

You weren’t really sure how it had happened, how he had weaved his way into your head. Initially he had just been the guy at the cemetery, the one you tiptoed around after you’d inadvertently pissed him off that first time you met. He was there doing his thing; you were there doing yours. Sure, he was handsome. But you hadn’t really given him much thought beyond that. Although you had thought it was nice to have some actual flesh and blood company out there for a change – even if he was just as quiet as the permanent residents of the cemetery.

But ever since the incident with that obnoxious man with the phone a few days ago, he’d been creeping in more and more. You didn’t know why; you barely knew him. But he often popped into your head when you least expected it. His big blue eyes…the slight poutiness to his lips….the way his hair framed his face-

A loud crack of thunder shook you from your thoughts.

You winced as you sipped your tea, flinching at the lightning bolt that followed. The weather was kicking up a gear.

You turned away from the window, taking brief comfort in the warmth of the mug in your hands. Your mother used to say there was no point worrying about things you couldn’t control; they’d still happen regardless of how you felt about it. Which was true…but you could never brush things off in same the breezy way that she always had. You often thought she’d have something similar to say about you visiting them. ‘You should be out there living! Not worrying about us! We aren’t going anywhere!’ you could practically hear in your head. Although sometimes it was hard to remember how her voice sounded. And you knew it would only get harder to hear it as time continued its relentless march…

You were sure everything would be fine.

…But you’d go visit the cemetery the second the weather improved. Just to be sure.

🍂

The rain continued all night. Your sleep was broken and stolen by the continuous thunder. Frequent lightning flashes had illuminated your entire bedroom and forced you awake each time you had drifted off. Even without that going on, you weren’t sure if you would’ve managed to rest, the anxiety churned and churned in your stomach as you worried about what you’d find when you got to the cemetery. At least it was the weekend, and you didn’t have to drag yourself into work in this state.

Logically, you knew you were overreacting. It wouldn’t come as a shock if anyone had told you that. Your parents would not be disturbed by the rain, their stone was built to withstand far more than some rough wind and water. Everything else at the site didn’t matter in the big scheme of things – some flowers, a few ornaments – nothing expensive, nothing irreplaceable.

But you’d put so much effort into maintaining it.

You hadn’t been able to control your parents’ deaths, but you could control their gravesite. Not the weather of course – but you could maintain it, bring flowers for it, keep it nice and neat. Grief often meant chaos, but this was something orderly and manageable that you could oversee.

Most of the time, anyway.

You woke up feeling groggy, almost like a hangover, but were relieved to see the rain had finally stopped. You rushed through your morning routine, showering, dressing and then shovelling down breakfast, practically running out of the door with your car keys in hand.

The drive over was tense, the anxiety heavy in your belly like a stone as you got closer to finding out what awaited you.

You parked up and dashed through the cemetery, hugging your coat close to your body as you zipped closer to your section. You were disheartened to see a few branches had fallen off trees along the way, petals from different flowers strewn across the grass. It didn’t fill you with confidence.

As the grave came into your eyeline, you were surprised to see Bucky already there - hunched over and moving rapidly. You couldn’t work out what he was doing from that distance.

As you drew closer, you realised he was crouched over your parents’ grave. You stiffened, unable to grasp what was going on.

He must’ve sensed you coming as he suddenly stood up and turned to face you. His large body stood like a shield between you and the grave as you tried to peer past him. You could see the concern written all over his expression.

“Hey, hey…it’s okay…but…” he warned gently, his blue eyes somehow still intense but softer than you’d ever seen them.

You attempted to manoeuvre him out of the way, stressed now as your heart pounded in your chest. What was he trying to keep from you? Of course you were fruitless, it was like trying to move a brick wall. He grabbed your arm with his gloved hand and held it tightly, but not painfully, to still you. You were surprised at the swell of comfort his touch brought, but you were too worked up to really let it calm you.

“There’s been some damage from the storm…but it’s okay…” he told you cautiously.

“Just let me see…” you practically hissed, your eyes welling with tears.

He sighed in defeat and reluctantly stepped aside, dropping the hold from your arm.

You gasped as he revealed the grave. The flowers were ruined, ripped apart by the storm and strewn about, countless petals littered across the plot. The little vase you’d kept them in had fallen in the wind and cracked against the headstone, shards splintered along the glass. The candle holder had met a similar fate, the ornaments no longer resembled what they had originally. The whole thing was a complete mess. Worse than you had imagined.

“Oh!” you whispered in shock as you knelt over the debris, not even sure how to start cleaning up this mess. Your heart sank entirely. You knew it was an overreaction, but it almost felt like you’d let your parents down somehow. Even though none of it was your fault, and they surely wouldn’t care even if they’d been here. You picked up the broken candle holder and held it up futilely, as if it would somehow magically come back together.

“I…I have some garbage bags in my car. I’ll get one,” Bucky said quietly.

He disappears, although you barely notice. You’re back on your feet again, your eyes flitting over to the Barnes’ plot. The flowers Bucky had previously laid against the stones were wrecked just like yours, but that was the extent of the damage. That’s because he was sensible and didn’t cover the graves in stupid, breakable trinkets like you did.

You felt a wave of self-loathing wash through you and found yourself unable to look at the mess any longer. You stomped away quickly; your eyes squeezed shut. You practically ran back to your car and started the ignition before you fully knew what you were doing. Suddenly you had driven home, and you were back at your apartment. You managed to fight back the tears until you were home and safely behind closed doors, embarrassed to be crying over something so silly.

After some time had passed and you wiped your eyes, you had a horrible realisation of Bucky’s last words to you – he was going to get a garbage bag for you! And you’d run off! God, he must think you’re a total freak. Mentally unstable. Or incredibly rude, at the very least.

You sighed, taking a deep breath. No more of this. Time to put on your big girl pants and woman up. Bucky was trying to help, and you’d run away like a spooked rabbit. Seeing the grave in that state was upsetting, yes, but it was fixable. There would always be more flowers and more candles. Like you’d already told yourself, your parents weren’t exactly going to be disturbed by a little rain.

You’d had your little wallow, but action was the best solution.

You checked the time. Bucky would be long gone by now, but maybe you could leave him a little note apologising for rushing off. You felt embarrassed about how you’d behaved, trying to push by him to get to the grave when he was only trying to help. You felt like you were always fumbling, always doing the wrong thing in front of him. But then…you felt like that in front of a lot of people.

You grabbed your kit plus a few extra supplies and headed back to the cemetery. You knew yourself well enough to know that staying home and doing something else would only mean your mind drifted back to it later. Get it done, then you can move on.

You drove back over to the cemetery, better prepared this time. Or so you thought. As you approached the grave, you certainly weren’t prepared for what you found.

“Bucky?” you asked with disbelief.

He was still there, hunkered over your parents’ plot. As he stood you gasped, the candle holder was in his hand – now completely intact.

“I always keep superglue in the trunk of my car so…” he trailed off sheepishly.

As he stepped aside, he revealed the similarly repaired vase at his feet, and one of the ornaments. You just stared at them open-mouthed.

“I couldn’t save them all, I’m sorry,” he continued, “but at least some of it is salvaged. And I put aside the broken stuff for you in case you wanted it as a keepsake or something”.

“You…you did all that?” you whispered, “for…me?”

He shrugged again like it was nothing. “Well…yeah. I know how much this place means to you…and I was a total jerk the first time we met. Walt up at the office told me last week that you had taken care of my parents’ graves, but I’d just assumed it was the staff here. And here was me thinking you were messing around with it. I was out of line. So, the least I could do was…” he nodded over to the recently repaired objects.

You were unable to hold back your smile, the grin stretching across it lighting up your entire face. You rushed forward, enveloping Bucky in a bear hug. “Thank-you,” you whispered to him.

He stumbled slightly in surprise at the sudden contact but caught himself and let out a light-hearted chuckle, “yeah…you’re welcome”.

He hugged you back, and the two of you just stayed like there for a while. You both allowed yourselves a moment of comfort in the other, both orphans, both grieving in different ways and mourning different lives, but still connected by bereavement and feeling untethered after losing your roots and foundations. The…friendship, could you say? That had developed between the two of you over these last couple of months had been a surprise, but it was certainly welcomed.

You both pulled apart, slightly embarrassed, when you spoke again.

“I’m sorry I got upset…it’s dumb I know, they’re just silly stuff. You didn’t have to do all of that…”

“No,” he cut you off. “It’s not dumb. It’s important to you, you put a lot of work into this place. It’s okay to be sad about it”.

You nodded, smiling at him. It was such a relief that he just got it. He understood.

“Would you…uh…” he cleared his throat, “…maybe wanna get a cup of coffee with me, sometime? Maybe meet somewhere outside of a cemetery. With living people. You know..if you want to…”

You beamed ear to ear, “yeah. Yeah, I do want to”.

THE END

[jibberjibbsart]

I'm guessing Luz' glyph worked cause they're in Gravity Falls? Cause otherwise Glyph magic doesn't work in the human world iirc.

Sorry if I come off as snippy I’ve just been getting this comment… a lot 😅

Luz was able to use magic in the human realm with the vial of titan blood they found in the cemetery. Since she knows King is a titan and I imagine she spends equal time in our world and the demon realm, King has probably donated some blood for her to have on hand in case she needs it.

And I know King’s glyph system is different than his fathers but we don’t have canon designs for his glyphs and I didn’t want to make new ones so I just used the old design for the plant glyph.

So yeah! I imagine she’s just got a little pocket vial of titan blood.

[strangersteddierthings]

Bad News First, Eddie

Part One 🦇 Part Two🦇Part Three🦇FInal Part

Whew! I don’t think I’ve written this much in such a short amount of time ever in my life. The boys deserve a soft ending, I think. Enjoy!

-

It goes like this. While Eddie's been lost in his own mind, his body was living. Sort of.

Top secret government assisted living, kinda living. For a secret government hospital one would think the place would be fancier or something but it's just a regular looking hospital.

Eddie's in therapy, both for his body and mind.

He learns that the voice he heard when Eleven helped pull him from the depths of his mind was Mike Wheeler of all people, and he sounds different because he's nineteen and in college. Mike mocks him on graduating before Eddie. He regrets it when Eddie gets him into a headlock.

-

He gets to meet Eleven, outside of his mind. And he starts calling her El. Part of him can't stop thinking about Eleven as the entity he thought was going to lead him to the great beyond.

She is just a person. Sorta.

Dustin had told him there was a girl with superpowers and Eddie is glad she's real. Not that he thought Dustin would lie about this (actually, he might have thought Dustin was lying just to give him some weird version of a pep talk. Everything said before going through Watergate was suspect if he's honest).

-

When he's finally well enough to be able to leave, Doctor Owens tells him their plan.

They're gonna convince Wayne to fly to Tennessee. Eddie, El, and Mike Wheeler are gonna be flown there, too. There's a place for them to stay, to meet up with his uncle in private.

They'll stay there a month. Doctor Owens knows a doctor who can do Eddie's final evaluations before he can really go home.

That's the real kicker.

Hawkins fucking sucks. Small town, narrow views, non-conformity gets you called a Freak in the same way his Dad used to call him a fag. Like he said, fucking sucks.

But it's also the sanctuary he escaped to when he was eleven years old. It's the place where his uncle built a home for him.

So, back to Hawkins first. He can always go somewhere else later. Maybe a coastal city. See the ocean.

-

Eddie hasn't been afraid of a reaction from his uncle since that day in the hospital parking lot after he caught Eddie making out with another guy. He's got that same fear inside now, though, knowing that when El opens that door, he'll see the family he feels like he abandoned. It's not fair to himself to think that, his therapist would say, but he's allowed to have crazy thoughts right now. He's come back from being (not)dead and gets to see Wayne again for the first time. Knowing his feelings are justified doesn't make them fade, though, so he's not surprised his voice shakes when the door finally opens. “Hey Uncle Wayne.”

Wayne takes less than two seconds to reach Eddie, pulling him into a bone crushing hug. “I love you so much, you little bastard. Don’t you ever, ever do this to me again.”

It's all Eddie can do to remain upright and hug him back, clinging to his shirt like he's eleven years old again.

-

Wayne gives him an overview of what he's missed after the Upside Down came into their world (he heard that part from El and Mike, against the better wishes of Doctor Owens). Learns that Wayne and Steve live in Steve's childhood home because his parents just gifted it to him, apparently. That Wayne is only part time at the plant now due to an accident he had, and how that sparked his current living conditions.

Learns that Steve and Wayne became close because, unbelievably, Steve Harrington goes to his grave in the cemetery and cleans off graffiti on the regular.

Eddie feels a little hot under the collar because his brain reminds him of a fact he’d heard once; that the author of Frankenstein lost her virginity on her mother’s grave and a little voice in the back of his head whispers that it'd be hot for him to do the same thing with Steve on his own grave.

He has to scamper to the bathroom to scold himself in the mirror because he cannot be having these kinds of thoughts about Steve while talking to his uncle!

-

Wayne asks him, the night before their flight, “what’s something you want to do, once everything is settled and life starts to feel normal again?”

“I wanna go on a vacation. Like, a real, bona fide, family vacation.”

“Where you wanna go?”

“Think I’d like to see the ocean.”

Wayne smiles softly. “Alright. When you feel ready for it, we’ll go.”

-

“Just give him a chance, Eddie,” Wayne says randomly, as they wait to board their flight to Indianapolis.

“Give him a chance? As if I’d waste it,” Eddie feels breathless at just the thought. It's certainly not helping that stupid crush he's been harboring for years, knowing how Steve’s been treating his uncle. It was one thing to watch Steve defend Jeff that one time in high school; it's an entirely different ball game knowing he's watched over his uncle with care and devotion for years. “He took care of you when I couldn’t. He cares. I don’t think there’s a chance I wouldn’t give him.”

“How long have you had a thing for Steve?”

Eddie's brain screeches to a halt because he was didn't think anything he'd just said would give him away. He can't even think of a reply good enough to throw his uncle off his trail. “That’s not- why would you think- when have I ever!?”

“You think I wouldn’t know this about you?” Wayne chuckles.

No. No, Eddie thinks, of course you could take one look at me and know. His uncle had been able to know everything about him so effortlessly. But Eddie doesn't have to answer, so he won't. “So, we’ll be living with Steve Harrington? Will he… be okay with me being there?”

“Yeah. Steve and I had each other when we needed it. Now I need you, so Steve won’t mind at all," Wayne sounds so sure, so convinced, that Eddie is too.

Eddie smiles, pulling a strand of his hair to hide his face behind as he imagines getting to eat at the same dinner table as Steve fucking Harrington. He doesn't even mind that Wayne gives him a look at says 'you are being so obvious right now' because he is. He knows he is. He's allowed to be. Wayne's not going to mock him for his crush.

-

On the drive from Indianapolis to Hawkins, Wayne tells him the lie he told Steve. Apparently, Steve thinks Eddie's dad is coming to stay for a while. The mere thought of that sets Eddie on edge, even though he knows Wyatt Munson's still in prison. Will be for a long time, with the list of shit they got him for.

They roll into Hawkins shortly after, and while Eddie may have not been in Hawkins the last five years, and he's willing to admit that things might have changed things up since they did have to rebuild a lot of the town, he's certain that Steve's house is on the other side of it. “This isn’t the way to the Harrington house."

“Steve won’t be there. He comes here when he’s overwhelmed," Wayne says. It's still pretty jarring to hear Wayne talk about Steve like this. Like he knows him. Which, he does, obviously, because they've gotten to know each other.

Still mind blowing to think about.

“The cemetery?” is what comes out of his mouth, though.

Wayne knows what's he's really meaning to ask, though, because he shrugs and says, “we both come talk to you. Steve always starts with the bad news, you know. I think you should start with good news. Just this once." The car is slowing down, and Wayne is pointing out the front windshield, to a figure crouched down near a lone headstone. "Ah. See, there he is.”

Steve. He's too far away for Eddie to be sure sure but if anyone is still wearing bright polo shirts tucked into light wash jeans this far after leaving high school, it'd be Steve Harrington. Eddie's not even sure the car is fully stopped when he all but falls out of it.

He doesn't run to greet Steve, because that's a bit dramatic, but he's not too proud to admit he might be power walking. He slows down when he gets closer, coming to a full stop just close enough to hear Steve talking to his grave. Talking to him.

"Bad news, Eds. I'm too much of a coward to meet your old man. Afraid of what he'll sound like. Because I want him to sound like you so fucking bad it hurts. So instead of being home, I'm hiding here."

"Well, I've some bad news for you, too, Stevie. I got my voice from my mom," Eddie says, and almost instantly cringes because Wayne literally just told him to start with good news and he didn't. Eddie doesn't have much time to soak in his embarrassment, though, because Steve whips around so fast that Eddie's dizzy from the movement.

Steve looks older but it's in the way people who have seen more than their fair share of Hell look older, and less about actual aging. His eyes are wide and stunned. Eddie watches as his jaw moves but no words come out. He looks like he's seen a ghost which... ok, that's fair.

"Umm," Eddie says, a little worried he's broken him when Steve doesn't even seem to be blinking as he stares at Eddie. "Good news, Steve. I, uh, I lived. Kinda. El kinda pulled me back to the surface of my mind, or whatever, and Owens did a good job at patchin' up the goods here," he gestures to his whole body with a sweeping motion of his hand and wishes that a gate to the Upside Down would open beneath his feet and suck him back to Hell because could he be any more embarrassing?

"A-are you," he watches as Steve swallows and takes a deep breath. He's still not sure Steve has blinked yet. "real?"

"Yeah," Eddie nods, taking a few steps closer, "yeah, I'm real. I'm here and alive and real."

Steve launches himself forward then, meeting him halfway. It's so goddamn surreal be witness to how tenderly Steve actually reaches out to him, though, such a contrast to the flurry of movement he'd been just a second ago. Eddie stays still as Steve lifts shaking hands to cup his face with, pushing against his cheeks as if to test whether or not Eddie is solid. Those hands slide down, along his neck, across his shoulders, down his arms where Steve seems to need to pause and collect himself again, hands wrapped loosely around his arms just below his elbows while Steve shuts his eyes and a low, broken sound pulls itself from his throat before his eyes open again, wet with tears, and he releases Eddie just long enough to throw his arms around his neck and pull him into a hug almost as crushing as the one he shared with his uncle.

It's overwhelming in this moment. To see how much he means to Steve and not fully understand how he came to mean anything to him at all.

Doesn't stop him from wrapping his own arms around Steve's waist, though.

-

It goes like this.

He gets his own room at Harrington's house. Wayne has his own room, too. How strange it is, to not have his uncle sleeping the day away on the couch because the trailer had one room and he'd given it to Eddie.

They adjust to living together so seamlessly. Like they were always meant to be family.

They have dinner together. Real homecooked meals. Which isn't a novelty for Wayne and Steve anymore, but Eddie's memory ends five years ago, when his dinners consisted of microwavable meals or left over snacks from lunch. Wayne cooks on the days when Steve works, and Eddie helps. Gets to be taught how to cook.

For a while, Eddie is afraid to leave the house. Even knowing that Jason Carver bit the dust the same day he was supposed to also doesn’t help. He only goes places with Wayne and Steve, and even then, the double takes people send his way are enough to make him want to shrink into himself.

However, no one says anything to him. He's vaguely aware that everyone here lived through some sort of miniature apocalypse and maybe that's the kind of thing that has to happen to make a small town in Indiana change.

-

He and Steve dance around each other. He can feel it. There is something here, between them, that neither fully acknowledges.

He tries to talk to Wayne about it, but he won't give him much to go on.

"I won't be the one to say anything about what Steve thinks of you. That's gotta come from Steve. I will say this. He's waiting for you to bring it up first."

"Why does it have to be me?"

"He's had five years to gather his thoughts and emotions," Wayne levels him with a Look, "you gotta have the time to figure yourself out, too."

Well, fuck.

-

Steve waits until it's almost summer break for the kids (they’re not really kids anymore, though, but Eddie’s adjusting to that still) to ask if he's ready to face them. "It'll be a lot to handle," Steve says as he sits next to Eddie on their couch (their couch. He can't believe that's a truth in his life right now). "Eleven and Mike haven't told anyone yet, but they want to. It wasn't just Wayne and I that grieved for you."

"I know," Eddie says, "I know. I'm good. I'm alive and here and I want them to know about it."

Steve nods slowly, not fully focused on Eddie. Eddie's come to know that means he's thinking, so Eddie waits for him to speak. "Would you prefer to meet with everyone... one at a time?"

"What's the other option?"

"Well, I always host a barbeque when they all come back. Could tell everyone all at once. Like ripping off a Band-Aid."

Eddie crooks a smile because he's a bit mischievous and his mind instantly plays a scene where he walks into a backyard full of all the people he's come to care for, and who care for him, and he's trying to best to be casual about it in this fantasy. "Yeah. Let's do the barbeque thing."

-

"Bad news, Stevie," Eddie whispers as he leans against the wall next his closed door, trying not to hyperventilate. "I don't know if I can do this."

Steve reaches out and takes one of Eddie's hands in his own, linking their fingers like it's a casual thing they do all the time when it's most certainly not. "Good news, Eds. You don't have to. We didn't tell anyone you're here. You can stay in your room until they're gone, and we'll figure out another way to tell them."

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut and thinks he might be crushing all the bones in Steve's hand with how hard he's clenching it. "What if they're mad at me?"

Steve understands the real question Eddie is asking, the one he doesn't know how to phrase. "You were dead, Eds, and no one out in that yard is going to be 'mad' about any time they'd spent grieving over you. There's gonna be a lot of tears, man, like a lot. Maybe even some shouting. None of it done in anger."

"How're you sure?"

Steve lifts his unoccupied hand and cups Eddie's check. Steve’s eyes are watery and his voice is a bit choked, but he says, "because I was there. I saw them through their grief. Everyone in the backyard either loves you already, or they will."

It's so fucking intimate, how close they are, how tenderly Steve touches him. Wayne had said he'd need to take the first step, so he blames Wayne when he blurts out, "what about everyone in this room? They love me, too?"

Steve's eyes go wide in surprise before his whole face lights up in a way Eddie has never seen before. It makes Steve look younger, less haunted, and then Steve whispers, "of course I love you," like there is no other answer Steve could have given.

Eddie grabs a handful as Steve's polo shirt and pulls him close enough to kiss.

Butterflies and fireworks erupt within Eddie. Kissing Steve is so much better than he's ever let himself imagine. They're still holding hands and Steve's still got his other hand resting so softly on his cheek and Steve's lips are kinda chapped but fuck does the briefest touch of their lips together make Eddie lose all his breath.

It's not deep, or all consuming. There's not even an exchange of tongue. Steve kisses him softly, gently, pulls back to pepper little kisses all over Eddie's face that has him blushing more than he's ever done in his life, and Steve places one, two, three more kisses to his lips before pulling back to look at Eddie like he's the answer to every prayer Steve's ever had. It makes his knees weak.

"I think," Eddie pauses to lick his lips, "I think I'll be brave enough to do it if you're holding my hand."

"Just try and pry yourself away, Munson," Steve teases. "Whenever you're ready."

-

Steve was right about the tears and shouting. He was also right that no one is mad at him.

Dustin hugs him so hard they fall over in the yard and Eddie finds himself part of a dog pile that starts with crying that turns into laughter that leads back into crying, everyone grabbing at him and him grabbing back.

It's emotional. It's overwhelming. It's the best fucking day of Eddie Munson's life.

-

Doctor Owens reaches out towards the end of summer to let him know they're issuing him a new social security card. Eddie asks if he's allowed to change him name. Owens says yes.

-

"Bad news first, Eddie," Eddie says to himself as he kneels in front of his own headstone. "You've become so boring and normal, no one vandalizes your grave anymore. Good news, though. Means I can do it myself."

Before him is his headstone, a thick red line painted through his death date. Another more carefully applied line is struck through his middle name. Above it he's painted in block letters 'Wayne'.

"Eddie, come on! This road trip's gonna start without you," Steve calls from where he's leaning against the side of Wayne's pickup.

Eddie is satisfied with his work, so he abandons the paint and returns to the pickup. He slides across the bench seat, one leg pretzeled under himself to be out of the way of the gear shift. Steve follows in after, shutting the door and reaching for Eddie's hand automatically.

He's got Wayne to his left, Steve to his right, and the first family vacation he's ever taken in his life ahead of him.

Good news, Eddie Wayne Munson. Maybe everyday going forward can be the best fucking day of your life.

[froody]

you seem like the exact person to be interested in this & maybe someone will know what this name is from. this headstone is in a cemetery in nyc, commemorating a woman named foroseagean jones. i have found no other examples of this name besides her, even searching newspapers. an etymological mystery of a name that's been haunting me since my teenage years!

Oh wow. That is fascinating. I looked it up and she seems to be the only documented person to ever have that name. Her father was from the UK so I wonder if it’s a bastardization of an archaic Brythonic or Goidelic name. I’ve seen a lot of butchered Gaelic and Welsh names on American documents but I can’t find a name that would be anywhere close to Foroseagean? Her parents may have made it up, it could be a play on “foresee again” somehow or it could have just sounded pretty to them.

[dark-frosted-heart]

Roger Barel Main Route - Mad Love Chapter 21 His POV

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this. I’m doing this for archiving purposes and you can probably find a better translation out there.

We started the process of making an antidote to condemn the condemned. Hoever, it was difficult to do…

Roger: So how ‘bout you take a break and run an errand for me?

Kate: An errand?

Roger: Yeah, it’s a kind of errand only you can do. I’m gonna keep researching, but I got someone to go with you—

Before I could even finish my sentence, the lab’s door opened.

Alfons: What is it. Why are you calling people over all of a sudden?

Roger: …See?

--

After Kate and Alfons left to run a “cemetery visit” errand, silence fell in the lab.

The silence seemed to bare his heart.

(...I still haven’t told Kate yet)

—That being, the fact that repeatedly conducting experiments on myself had shortened my lifespan.

(I got no intention of devaluing my own life. Humans are nothing without it) 

(But before I joined Crown, there weren’t a lot of Cursed Ones around me)

I suddenly remembered the day I went out to collect information on a new Cursed One…

~~ Flashback ~~

Roger: It’s Roger! You there?! Don’t be so depressed about your life. I’m cursed like you—  —Anyway, let me explain in person! If you’re pretending you’re out, I’m kicking down your door!

I kicked the door open and—

Puppy: Arf arf!

There was a small, beer-colored puppy.

Roger: A dog…? You’re so thin. Where’s your owner…

Puppy: Arf! Arf!

The man that the puppy was trying so hard to wake up, laid sleeping forever in his bed.

Roger: Ah, damn it! I was too late… If I came sooner, I might’ve been able to stop him…

From the bottles of liquor on the floor, it was easy to imagine that the man gave up on life in his despair.

(I’m sure…this guy died without knowing he was cursed)

—So many of the Cursed believed they were abnormal, so they either fell into evil or chose to die like this.

Puppy: Awoo…?

That beer-colored one was still a pup and didn’t seem to understand that his owner had died.

Roger: Sorry I couldn’t save your owner…

That’s how Ale and I met.

~~ End flashback ~~

(Before I joined Crown, stuff like that always happened)

Not being able to find Cursed Ones.

Or when I did find one, they’d either be already dead or jailed for their crimes.

(—So my only choice was to stick needles in myself. So that I could get data on Cursed Ones)

Life’s a series of choices.

And I don’t regret my choices.

Rather…I’ve decided that the choices I make will be the right ones.

(That’s how I really feel)

(...But)

~~ Flashback ~~

Kate: Pull yourself together, Roger Barel! You’re the strongest egoist out there! This despair’s nothing. Just give it the middle finger and laugh it off like you always do!

Roger: …O_O

~~ End flashback ~~

Roger: I never thought…I’d fall in love

Whenever I heard Kate laugh, whenever I saw Kate’s carefree smile, whenever Kate taught me about romantic love, I wished for an “eternity” that humans could never obtain.

(For the first time, I might be regretting a choice)

(Because I fell in love with the lil’ lady)

With a bitter smile, I picked up a test tube and resumed my research.

(...I’m the worst at giving up)

(I’m a hunter. I never let my prey get away)

(I will get everything I want)

Next

[drewtober]

Hey! Sorry this has taken so long--had a lot of family things come up one after another after another, and lots of work on top of all of it. Been kinda one thing after another these past few months. 🤣

TAGGING AND SUBMISSIONS

I'll open up submissions on October 1st for any pieces if anyone wishes to submit, and I'll check the tags once a day for reblogging. The tag is #Drewtober2024.

LOCATIONS

This list is mainly for quick reference or to spark an idea, but if I’ve forgotten a location in a game that you wanna illustrate go for it! I’m doing this from memory.

SCK - Paso Del Mar High School, Maxine’s Diner, Aunt’s Eloise’s house

STFD - The studio, Dwayne’s apartment, Aunt Eloise’s apartment (this is the only game I've not played, so I'm unfamiliar with all the locations).

MHM - Nancy’s room, the basement, Abby’s room, the library, the parlor, the foyer

TRT - Nancy’s room, the foyer, the library, the locker room, Marie's tower

FIN - The Royal Paladium

SSH - The exhibits, the Henrik’s lab, Nancy’s hotel room, Henrik’s hospital room, Joanna’s office, Alejandro’s office, Taylor’s office

DOG - Sally's cabin, Mickie's speakeasy, the ranger station, the woods, Em’s Emporium

CAR - Nancy’s hotel room, Joy’s office, the security office, Ingrid’s workshop, the various rides in the amusement park, Rolfe Kessler’s workshop

DDI - Katie’s boat, Jenna’s cafe, Whale World, the lighthouse, the beach, the sea caves, the smuggling tunnels

SHA - The ranch house, the stable, the farm yard, Mary’s gift shop, Dry Creek, the cliff dwellings

CUR - Nancy’s room, Linda's room, Jane’s room, the conservatory, the library, the foyer, the alchemy lab

CLK - The Lilac Inn, the tunnels, Josiah's house and barn, the mini golf course, Jim's office, Bogart's pond

TRN - The dining car, the sleeping car, Camile’s car, Jake’s car, the map room car, the dancing studio car, Fatima’s shop, the crypts

DAN - Minette’s workshop, the reception office, Dieter’s studio, the park, the sewers, Cafe Kiki, Jay Jay’s house, Noisette's stained glass safe

CRE - Big Island Mike’s property, the beach, the Hilihili labs, the volcano, Three Finger Rock jungle, Dr. Kim’s base camp

ICE - Nancy’s room + all guest rooms, the fishing shack, the Trapper Dan's Needle, Julius's cabin, the basement

CRY - Renee’s room, Bruno’s room, the library, the miniature’s room, the foyer, the garden, the cemetery, Bernie’s log and swamp, Zeke’s

VEN- Nancy and Helena's room, the ca, the flower stand, the various plazas, Antonio's office, Casa dei Giochi

HAU - The foyer/downstairs, Brendan and Caitlyn’s room/tower, Fiona’s room, the library, the castle grounds, Fiona’s bog hut, The Screaming Banshee Inn, the laboratory

WAC - Nancy and Corine’s room, Mel’s room, Izzy and Leela's room, the basement, the library, the common area, the courtyard

TOT - The basement, the farm house, the barn, the wind mills, Pa’s shop, Pa's museum

SAW - Nancy’s room, the baths, the hidden bath’s, Yumi’s apartment, the gardens, the bento stand, the pachinko parlor, the ryokan foyer, Rentaro's workshop, Takae's classroom

CAP - Nancy’s room, Karl’s office, the gift shop, the security booth, the monster’s camp, the dungeons, the glass blowing studio, the dining hall, the courtyard

ASH - River Heights police department, Toni's ice cream shop, Alexei's antique shop, Brenda's van, Nancy's house, original town hall

TMB - The camp tent, the tomb

DED - Ryan's workshop, Mason and Ellie's offices, the break room, Gray's security room, Niko's office and secret lab, the main lab

GTH - The cemetery, the crypt, the dilapidated house, the mansion parlor, the kitchen, the basement, Charlotte’s room

SPY - Nancy’s hotel room, Bridget's hotel room, Cathedral HQ and server room, Moira’s house, the training grounds, the cookie stand, the train station

MED - Pacific Run camp, the puzzle palace, the Annunaki star cave

LIE - The museum, Melina's office, the stage, the sets, the Niobe's pottery workshop

SEA - The Missti Skip, the Heerlijkheid, Magnus's cabin, the caves, the gift shop

BONUS DAYS/ALTERNATIVE DAYS

MID - Mei and Jason's hideout, the Parry house, Lauren's shop, Olivia's shop, the museum, the courthouse, the Hathorne estate and grounds, the cemetery, the tunnels,

KEY - Hungerkünstler Cafe, Oskar's exhibit, Zlaty Custom Jewelry, Aparát, Radek's marionette theater, Prague castle courtyard, St. Vitus cathedral, the alchemy lab, the astronomical clock

[twilightmalachite]

Esu Sagiri - Idol Story 2

Author: Akira

Characters: Esu, Subaru

Translator: Mika Enstars

"Hehehe… But you know, even though I was crying like an idiot just by watching… You were smiling up until the very end and did your job perfectly as an idol, Senpai."

[Read on my blog for the best viewing experience with Oi~ssu ♪]

Season: Spring

Location: Cemetery

Second year of ES’ establishment. At a secret cemetery somewhere in Tokyo…

Subaru: (Dad.)

(I’m sorry I visited you so late this year as well.)

(I’m getting busier and busier year after year, you know? Although in Trickstar’s case, it’s more like there’s no leisure for the poor...)

(You wouldn't angry at that, would you though, Dad? ‘Cause you were much busier than I was, day in and day out.)

(Nothing could be done about that, though. You were a super idol who carried the industry on his shoulders, after all.)

(You never gave up, though. You never complained, and on holidays you would even be sure to come back home with a smile on your face just to make your family happy.)

(You sure are amazing, Dad. I’ve always admired you. And I’m now in the same position as you—I’ve become an idol.)

(As time passes, I’ve slowly realized more and more just how amazing a person you were.)

(It made me happy. It made me happy to be able to understand you, Dad.)

(Hey, Dad, I wonder if I’ve become an idol worthy of your praise.)

(If possible, I’d like to have you say “Wow, you’re amazing, Subaru!” if you were alive.)

(And I wish you could ruffle up my hair like I was a dog, just like you used to too, but…)

Esu: NwaaAAAAAAH!?

(thunk)

Subaru: …?

Hmm? Umm, are… you okay…?

Esu: Ah, It's okay, do not mind me! My arms are just outta shape, as it’s been a while since I’ve climbed! I bit off more than I could chew!

I took a dangerous route to get away from this creepy guy, and accidentally slipped from somewhere high—

Esu: —Wait, you’re Akehoshi SubaruuUUU!

Subaru: Yup. Huh, are you a fan of mine?

(This isn’t good. I didn’t really want my fans to know where my dad’s grave was.)

(Although his reputation’s been restored to an extent, there’s still a lot of anti-fans who believe those rumors and consider him the worst idol ever…)

(I don’t want that. What if his grave gets vandalized or something?)

Esu: Oh, no no! It’d be presumptuous for someone like myself to call myself a fan!

Presem… Presim, prisum… Huh, is “presumptuous” correct?!

Subaru: Yep, that’s it.

Esu: Was I right? Got it! Good, good, hip-hooray! I mean, that was very kind of you! This debt of gratitude will not be forgotten even if I am reborn seventeen times over!

Subaru: Seventeen times over, huh? What’s with that oddly specific number?

You’re a strange kid.

Esu: Huh, you think so? I find myself to be normal, though! Maybe I’ve become a little out of touch with the world after having been cooped up for a while?

If I do anything that feels off, do feel free to point anything out! I’ll correct it!

Subaru: Alright. Well to start, it’s looked down upon to cause a ruckus at gravesites.

Esu: You’re right~! My bad! I’ll quiet down! I’m a man who has often been told “You’re so cute when you keep your mouth shut, Esu-kun!” by his inconsiderate classmates!

Subaru: So your name’s Esu, huh?

Esu: Yes! I am Sagiri Esu! My name’s pretty tough to read, or excessively sparkly rather, so it’s okay if you don’t remember all of it![1]

You’re free to just call me something like “Ecchan” or “Sacchan”!

Subaru: Ecchan reminds me of Eichi-senpai. Sagiri—I feel like I might’ve heard “Sagiri” somewhere before…

Esu: Oh, so you recognize it? My father used to be real popular! He was even called a super idol at a point!

Subaru: Ah, that’s right! There was a super idol who showed up sometime between the times of Hokke~Papa—Hidaka Seiya-san and my dad, right?

His name was Sagiri. My dad said that he looked up to him, so I remember.

Esu: Ahaha~, although it was all downhill for him once the next super idol, Akehoshi-senpai’s father, made his appearance.

Subaru: Well, my dad did become the talk of the town for many things, both good and bad… Those from around that time aren’t talked about as much anymore, with Hokke~Papa being an exception.

It’s like it’s all been balled together as a dark past to be forgotten, thanks to all that’s happened.

So I dunno how things are now, but, umm you—Sacchan, what’s your father doing now?

He’s not active anymore… right? I feel I’d know about him if he were active.

Esu: Oh, my father died.

Subaru: …Is that so? Sorry, I didn’t know…

Esu: Nah, if you didn’t know, you didn’t know! He passed away three years ago, and by the time he’d already turned over a new leaf as just an ordinary man.

Just an ordinary man, just with a bit of a nice-looking face.

Could at least look ugly… Wouldn't have to be followed around by that pervert then…

Subaru: Pervert? Had your father been targeted by some weird stalker or something, like mine was…?

Esu: No, no, this pervert has nothing to do with my father’s death. Sorry if I’m being difficult to follow! My communication skills aren’t all too great, after all! Just terrible!

My father died in a plane accident. Just a common—well, it’s not common, but an ordinary accident with nothing to do with idols or anything like that.

I was involved in the accident too, and although I managed to survive, I’ve been in the hospital up until recently. So, I've been in the process of rehabilitation for about six months, as of now.

Subaru: Is that so… I probably wouldn’t have even known three years ago. In the period before I entered high school, I would shut myself away from any and all information.

All of the information that would drift my way… I wouldn’t wanna hear any of it.

Esu: I totally get you~. It feels like anything and everything is an attack on you when your heart is weak, doesn’t it?

Even though nobody in the world probably spares a single thought about you.

Ah, but you’re an idol, Akehoshi-senpai, so tons and tons of people pay attention to you, of course! I was really moved by the SS from two years back![2]

It was like—and sorry if this sounds disrespectful—but your father also passed away… I felt like I could relate with you in some ways.

Like, “Ahh, this person, he’s me.”

Subaru: … …

Esu: At the time, I understood the expression on your face, your voice, everything, as if they were my own—I empathized! I was no longer able to distinguish between you and I!

I was in the hospital, lying in bed watching your performance, and I cried so hard that even the nurses became seriously worried about me.

Esu: Hehehe… But you know, even though I was crying like an idiot just by watching…

You were smiling up until the very end and did your job perfectly as an idol, Senpai. So, I thought you were real amazing—

Esu: Ahh, I can’t find the right words! Hang in there, my vocabulary!

Subaru: It’s okay. I understand you.

Thank you. For watching my performance.

You cried in place of me, didn’t you? Maybe that’s why I didn’t have to show a shameful sight like that upon such an important stage.

So… I know it sounds weird, but thank you. Really.

Esu: Oh no no, I seriously didn’t do anything! I don’t know what to do being shown gratitude like this?!

Oh, shoot!? I hear Fuyume’s voice! He hates exercise and isn’t all that good at it either, but caught up to me through sheer determination…!

I-I’m so sorry, but I gotta go now! It’s over for me if I’m caught!

Subaru: It kinda feels like you’re in danger… Do you need me to hide you?

Esu: Ah, that’s very kind of you, but I’m alright! This is a problem I gotta resolve on my own…!

But if you’d like, do offer some incense at the grave over there, the one decorated with cutesy goods.

That one’s my father’s grave.

Subaru: Right. This cemetery is for those in the industry that need to be kept secret from the general public. Both your father and my dad rest here.

It was through some sort of fate I was able to meet you, and hear your words that made me happy, so… Yeah, I’ll be sure to offer some incense.

Esu: Thanks! I’m sure our fathers are happy too! It doesn’t seem like they were on good terms when they were alive, but everyone becomes a Buddha when they die, right?[3]

I’m sure all those concerns and karma have been thoroughly purified!

—Eek, his voice is getting closer! Maaan, I wanted to have a nice and quiet visit to his grave after all this time!

But, well, I also caused a ruckus for no reason, and disturbed Akehoshi-senpai’s visit to his grave! That makes it sort of a mutual karmic retribution, right!—kinda?

Subaru: It’s fine. My dad always liked it when things were lively.

I’m sure he’s standing beside your father, watching over with a smile on their faces—over us.

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A sparkly name (キラキラネーム) is a term that refers to a recent phenomenon of giving names that are over-extravagant and notably very difficult to read. Esu's name is written with the kanji 笑主, which is both very unrecognizable as a name (it uses the kanji for laugh/smile + the kanji for lord/master), the reading is also very unnatural. The phenomenon is similar to the one where people will name their babies stuff like "Mhackenzeigh" or "Lakynn". Since knowing that 笑主 is read as "Esu" doesn't come instinctively, it would be difficult to remember; hence Esu saying there's no need to remember it all.

Referring to the SS where Trickstar won, back in ! era. If you aren’t aware of what happens to Subaru and Trickstar during the event, I highly recommend reading SS - Friendship 14 until the end of the event story, else this entire scene won’t make as much sense.

Esu uses a lot of Buddhist terminology here. If you’re familiar with the idea of reaching enlightenment, once you reach enlightenment, you let go of all worldly possessions, realizations, attainments, and achievements. This is what is referred to when one becomes a Buddha.

[feroshgirlsims]

Subplot 5.0 - Everybody Spies

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(by the way, I use “witch” and “spellcaster” interchangeably)

[TRANSCRIPT]

Savage Crunch Gym

Grace: I think all the elven delegations will be at the Moon Revelry this year. I’m curious to see them up close. What did they do in your day?

Simeon: Nothing. There was no Moon Revelry. There was only the war.

Grace: Oh! I…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—

Simeon: No, it’s me. Operation Eternal Flame was ages ago. It’s crass of me to keep bringing it up.

Grace: Simeon—

Simeon: I have a few things to do before I go into the library. Thanks for the session.

Serenity Library

Darrel: I’ve finished sorting the elder manuscripts. I was going to take my lunch.

Simeon: That’s fine. I’d like to discuss this digital cataloging system when you’re finished. 

Casa Del Rosario 

Darrel: Simeon has been quiet. He’s doing a lot of planting, but I don’t know what it’s for. 

Doli: Just keep an eye out. It should be easy; you’re already so observant.

Darrel: Thanks. Has…has Morgyn mentioned it? I’m eager to get a placement with Untamed Magic. If I’m to take over my mother’s council seat, I’ll need experience with my school of magic.

Doli: Morgyn thinks you’re doing great work right here. Your observations are important to them.

Darrel: But I don’t ever report anything to them. If I could just have a moment of their time, I’d—

Doli: I’m making sure all the information you give me ends up in the right place.

Doli: If I were you, Darrel, I’d focus on collecting information. There will be no meeting with Morgyn if you have nothing of substance to report.

Darrel: R-right. I get it. I’ll get more.

(Darrel goes to Eternal Hollow Cemetery and watches Simeon crying at a grave)