#and my father would take me to the library every couple of weeks or so and i would pick out a new one.

[krahk]

Blood for Ruin

Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3

Masterlist

Alastor x OFC/Reader (no use of Y/N)

Part Four

(Or, Alastor Learns Hell Hath No Fury…you know the rest)

18+ Minors DNE, Smuttempt below.

Alastor and you had come to a respectable agreement in a considerably quick amount of time given the fact that the two of you were hesitant to even speak to one another. He still had free reign, his excuse being that he had already navigated Hell for nearly a century virtually unscathed and was immensely powerful. He also brought up that it was just unsafe for any women to be wandering around Hell in general. All the unscrupulous, unsavoury, and demented sinners loved to continue their victim count in the underworld. You were a target simply because of your gender. And gentlemen did not let women they knew walk straight into danger. He mentioned that was partially the reason Nifty stuck around him so long. He provided a safe area for her to be herself without being exploited due to her very strange mind. His concern for the little woman was touching, since you had assumed he had no good bone in his body.

You, however, would stick around the hotel mostly, but you were not limited to just your room as Alastor had first suggested. You would also be able to leave, but Alastor would be your chaperone. Having him around almost guaranteed distance from other sinners due to their fear of the Radio Demon. You could also leave with Husk, but only locally, and he would call for Alastor immediately if you would try anything funny. Alastor had told Husk about your attack and used your trauma as a reason for your constant babysitting. He wasn’t pleased about his new duties, but he certainly couldn’t refuse the Overlord.

And for a couple of weeks, this arrangement worked just fine for you. You didn’t suddenly need to leave the hotel a bunch, you preferred staying in anyway. Part of it was still just that you were still freshly dead, didn’t have to work, and there were enough things around this old building that needed attention. You started reorganising the library as a job, remembering that the state of it was less than desirable. It was still a mess, and currently it felt as if you were trying to polish a turd making it look presentable. Charlie’s father was arriving soon, called as a last resort to help her with the hotel. Pressure was on this morning, since the woman was clearly trying to work through some emotional baggage waiting regarding her father. Taking a step back and realising there really was no chance, you just wrote ‘Women’s bathroom’ on a piece of paper and fingers crossed the Devil was a gentleman. As you were sticking the paper on one of the double doors into the room, Angel walked by and barked out a laugh.

”You really think that’s gonna keep the man out, toots? Props for trying I guess.” Ending with a wink. You chuckled back in return, explaining your reason. ”I mean, he doesn’t really need to check every room out, but what if he’s a total perv? I know lots of powerful men that are totally into that shit! Overlords, even. Right Smiles?” Angel had directly that last statement to Alastor, who had come up from behind him and was now looking at your sign, perplexed. He waved his fingers and your sign turned into a shiny gold placard, and raised an eyebrow looking to your face for a reaction. You smiled at the sign, and nodded your head in his direction.

“Quite right to keep him out of as many rooms as possible, my dear. Fabulous idea indeed.” Oh yes, let us let him think you did this for an actual reason, and not because you get distracted trying to fix whatever Dewey Decimal system they were using in Hell. The three of you heard Charlie call for everyone to come into the foyer to wait, and you and Angel walked side by side talking about what you thought Lucifer might be like.

“Well, he’s supposed to be God’s favourite, and beautiful - like the Morningstar, so he has to be hot as fuck!”

”Mama warned me that Satan would be attractive, but since he’s not Satan and life doesn’t make any sense anymore, I figure she meant the Devil. Charlie’s gorgeous so I wouldn’t be surprised.” You stated. Angel was nodding while pursing his lips.

“Charlie’s mother is some kinda bombshell though, a total dime. I’ve never seen her but I do believe you gotta be to keep the Devil occupied.” He winked at you again, raising his eyebrows in a suggestive manner. “Don’t be a pig, Angel, try to keep that under control for the time being.”

”Hey, Fat Nuggets and I have more in common than you know, girl.” Both of you laughed at his remark, and suddenly, Charlie interrupted your little chat-

“Okay Everyone! It’s Showtime!” Opening the door to Lucifer Morningstar. The Devil.

You blasted off your confetti cannon at the same time as Husk, welcoming him to the foyer. Alastor stood alongside Charlie and it was clear from his facial expressions he was unimpressed. Like, so obvious. Eventually Charlie introduced him to everyone in the group, ending on you, where Lucifer had grabbed your hand and brought it to his mouth to politely put a kiss to the back of it, much to your surprise. You smiled in return, while he made a remark about how cute some sinners could be. Eyes darting to Alastor, it was evident that he was seething about the special attention. Putting your hand back to your side, you thanked him for the compliment and allowed Charlie to attempt to continue her tour.

However a chandelier disaster had surprised you all, and it broke Lucifer out into song. You could see where Charlie got it from.

See this part of hell you would never understand. Occasionally, people would just break out into song, like a musical. It was generally entertaining, but as a spectator sometimes you were unsure what to do. You could all hear the music, so this was something that happened with intention. Still did not make sense overall. Alastor had taken over Lucifer’s song and as it spiralled out of control swapping between the two men, you hunkered over to the wall to enjoy the show. Before long, an interloper broke in and took charge over the song. It was a female sinner, and it was clear that she and Alastor had history together.

Always one to keep to a strict schedule, Alastor reminded Charlie of the tour as he redirected the new addition. The two of them, along with Vaggie and Lucifer went their own way. You joined Angel at the bar with Alastors friend, Mimzy, and were swept up in her storytelling of Alastors history before and beginning in hell. You could tell that Husk and Mimzy had some of their own history, and it was not good. Suddenly, the main doors were busting against the frame, with yelling for the new demon coming from outside, and they had the entire building shaking. Very quickly, things went very downhill, but you were quickly pulled aside with a shadowy tendril and placed at the very back of the room, the tendril blocking you in with whatever furniture had become askew.

Of course. You were a liability. But he couldn’t very well instruct you out loud to stay safe, things were still on the down low. Like buried 20 feet deep down low. You peeked over the edge of a table that had been placed in front of you to watch the fight go down. Alastor had become…evil, to put it simply. Charlie was holding rage in at her fathers words, Vaggie was checking on staff. Pentious was running for his own eggboys to find cover. Truly never a dull moment here. You sat down and pushed yourself to the wall, hitting it with your back and pulling your knees up to your chest, holding them to you with your arms.

Almost as quick as it came, the noise was silenced. Clearly Alastor had promptly dealt with the threat, coming out a winner, and was correct about his capabilities regarding avoiding injuries. You stood up, and made eye contact with the Radio Demon, the slightest nod in approval coming from him. You climbed over the makeshift blockade, and headed towards the front door to join Angel and Husk outside. Charlie and her father had walked past you, Charlie clearly upset with him. You could tell another song was coming out, very personal this time, so you were eager to get a good distance away from it.

As you approached him, Angel had a sly smirk and a raised brow at you. “What's that look for?” You inquired, on the defence to his judgement.

”Well don’t you look fresh and clean as ever - don’t think I didn’t catch Smiles over there keeping you sa~fe.”

You scoffed in return. “Alastor is just a gentleman, he knows I’m an absolute klutz, remember how I busted myself up looking for you that one night? And then again when I missed the last step of the stairs and ate shit on my chin?” You were gesturing like a mad woman, hoping your quick and reasonable response would be believed. You only received a sceptical look in return. “Yea, I dunno if he’s that kind of a gentleman, doll. He generally doesn’t give a shit if any of us hurt ourselves. Look at Nif!” You didn’t have to look at the demon to know she was probably up to something no good.

“Nifty likes getting into trouble, and especially loves pain-“, “I love pain!” She interjected with a menacing laugh afterwards. “See! She’s a big fan. He’s simply a gentleman.” But Husk gave you a very sceptical look. He was suspicious.

“Keeping the fairer sex safe has always been a gentleman’s priority, Angel Dust. And this one in particular does like to get herself into trouble. I could not possibly allow any of our staff to be exposed to danger unwillingly.” He said, agreeing with your statement.

“You didn’t seem to give a shit about Mimzy, though.” Husk said, giving the taller demon a look with attitude.

Alastor hummed briefly, “Mimzy is more than capable of handling herself, Husker - I know her to be very capable of keeping herself safe. Why, it was why she came here! I am well known to take care of those who need help.” The look he gave the bartender was one of contention. The tension between the two was strong, and you and Angel were simply unwilling spectators in this battle. “Yea, but not without an exchange - you don’t do shit for free, everyone knows that too.” Alastors eyes thinned at him, and Husk shut his mouth after that, but it was clear he thought he had made a point before Alastor had turned on his chipper Radio persona to reply.

“I enjoy keeping people on their toes! It is a good way to keep the boredom at bay. Hah-hah!”

You breathed a small sigh of relief, avoiding eye contact from any of the men around you entirely. You watched as Lucifer gave Charlie a firm hug and left. The girl looked pleased as she informed Vaggie that they would be meeting in Heaven for a meeting. Hopefully things would continue to go her way.

Angel would simply not drop it though, just as you thought you and Alastor had made it out of the woods, he just started all over. “You got a thing for her, Smiles? You stare at her a lot too, don’t think I don’t catch ya all the time. Ya gotta crush?” Oh, Angel was just a couple drinks in already. Damn his weak constitution for strong liquor. The room became chilly, and Alastor went on a polite-ish tirade- “How dare you insult me with the notion of ever feeling anything for this pathetic creature other than pity. She is incapable of keeping herself out of trouble, but since Charlie seems quite fond of her it would do me no good to have her worry over this little doe. She is exactly as she appears - weak, scared, and lacking any form of self preservation. It is clear why she came to hell as a doe, because she is no better than basic prey. Think before you decide to insult me again.” Mmmkay. Not polite-ish at all.

“Ex-cuse me?!” You exclaimed, defensive. “You’re also a deer!” Ah yes great, what a good comeback. He sneered at you - “My appearance is laced with irony, my dear. You fulfilled your position on earth for what you are. I was simply cursed with my appearance as punishment. This is, after all, hell.” You made a few noises as interjection, but your face was beginning to burn with embarrassment. Alastor quickly turned away, obviously to avoid anyone getting a good look at his face flushing, announcing he needed to get up to his radio tower to be on time for his evening broadcast. “Such good news to be announced! I simply cannot leave anyone waiting for me!” And he swiftly disappeared into his shadows, leaving the 3 of you sitting at the bar amidst the mess. You jumped to your feet off the stool and did a little stomp and noise of frustration.

“How fucking dare him I- I swear, I’m gonna…UGH.” You grabbed your hair on either side of your head before running your hands down your face.

“What toots, what could you even do to him? He’s like, super spooky. And strong, you heard that broad earlier. He basically eats overlords for breakfast. Guess it’s easy bein’ a dick down here if you got no weaknesses.” Angel said, putting his glass on the counter and getting up himself to head upstairs.

Then it clicked. Oh-ho-ho. But he did have a weakness. A great big weakness. What a shame if someone were to abuse their power while said dick was perhaps engaged in something important…like being on the air. You laughed darkly, smiling wide. Pathetic, eh? Well, you could get him to your level. And it would be so easy, too. You turned on your heel and ran past Angel to the stairs, shouting goodnight to the lingering bodies in the foyer. You had a date with a broadcast.

Once upstairs you locked the door, and triple checked it was shut. You turned out most of the lights and turned on the warmest lamp for ambiance. Angel was always getting free PR from all sorts of businesses, most of them involved in the sex trade. And many of the free items were designed for people with a different set of sex organs than him. For some reason, about half of Hell thought Angel Dust was a girl, confused about the chest fluff. So not long ago Angel had ‘gifted’, i.e ‘ dumped’ a load of different vibrators and dildos your way.’No point lettin’em go to waste doll face!’ He had said, laughing at your red face once you had realised what he had given you. You had promptly thrown the box of intimidating items under your bed while he was trying to convince you rubbing one out was good for the soul. Something about ‘loving yourself’ being a very important step in redemption. Most nights, he was like a very annoying older brother who only made inappropriate jokes at your expense.

But tonight, oh-hoh, that box was coming out of the dark. You rifled through the objects, startled by some of the more…complicated items. Some had 2 wands, or curvy bits, some had 3 - all very intimidating. Your hand had landed on a smaller box, one with an easy to grab handle and a white rubber circle on one side at the end. You put the batteries in it, turning it on. Confused, since all your vibrators were pretty plain in the overworld, you put your hand to the white rubber. Oh! Ooohh~~.

Suction. Good god, hell thought of everything filthy, now hadn’t it? But already, just the thought of using it made you squish your legs together. You put it down on the bed. Everything needed to be perfect. You turned the radio in your room on, Alastors broadcast filling the silence. It was a musical interlude at this moment, which was perfect because you could assume he was just ignoring the little moment of arousal that passed through you just then. Putting the box and all of the more advanced items back under the bed, you stripped down and threw yourself under the covers.

Usually a date with yourself was a little more spontaneous. And not for such a vengeful reason, either. But the thought of getting him back like this, him knowing how you felt and what you were probably doing, the effect it would have on him was invigorating. And there was nothing he could do about it, either, he was not one to skip a broadcast. His ego simply wouldn’t allow it. You didn’t focus on the many ways that this could (would) blow up in your face. You were a little too excited in more ways than one now.

You started with feather touches on your clavicle, using the allusion of a faint hand being someone else’s to spark the match. You grazed over your breasts, lightly pulling on a nipple and bringing it to a peak. You put your fingers in your mouth, and pinched your nipple again, blowing cold air on it, resulting in a full body of goosebumps. By this time, Alastor was back on the air.

”Well was that not a swell piece of music? From a better time, I say! Now, focusing more on today’s great news of a meeting with the higher ups in heaven-“

Your fingers had drifted down your stomach to below your waistline and further. Small circles were being drawn on your upper thigh, heading in a spiral down to your core. You could feel how puffy you were getting, radiating heat under the blankets, and a finger rubbing over your slit bringing wetness up to your clit was clear that you were more turned on than usual. It had been a while, after all.

“-Morningstar is a…determined young lady-“ You inserted a finger, “*cough* how can we not follow in her stead? Give redemption a chance and-“ a second, only to come out and rub around your clit in a slow and steady circle. You had turned the little vibrator on at this point, bringing it down to your throbbing heat. “Come down to the …t-to the Hazbin Hotel! We’ve - hng -“

He lost his words just as soon as you had placed the little rubber ring around your clit, the strong sucking sensation making your hips jerk up from the over-stimulation immediately. You were certainly more sensitive in your new form over all, but sweet baby Jesus the sensations you were feeling were so strong you lost your breath.

As did Alastor. He coughed again, the noise coming out strong on the radio. “Apologies, listeners! It appears as if …as if our broadcast is having a diff-‘“ he took a haggard breath as you could feel the pressure building rapidly. This was accelerating far quicker than you had imagined. The toy was so strong that you didn’t even remember what the goal was anymore, it didn’t matter. Your arousal was hot and burning and it took over your mind entirely. You were matching Alastor's ragged breaths, his static taking over his voice in an attempt to cover his strange broadcast.

You were building up, up, up, until finally the dam from your little toy broke your walls down into a strong, powerful orgasm. Strongest one you have ever had. Your cunt was clenching, clit protesting at the continued abuse it was taking from the little rubber circle. You rode it out, lowering the speed as your jerking began to subside. You turned off the machine and just laid in the bed with arms at either side of your body. you could feel your wetness trailing down, surely leaving a patch of shame on your sheets.

Moments after your release, the static faded from the radio, with Alastor announcing “It appears as if we’ve had some interruption with our signal, save your ears for other nights, listeners!” Before ending the show abruptly with an upbeat jazzy instrumental. It wasn’t long before you heard a loud slam of something from the room right across the hall before you chuckled at your payback, dozing off to sleep. Best part, you thought as you were fading into slumber, was that he most certainly kept his smile through that entire ordeal. Payback can be a bitch.

And she was coming for you soon.

You wanted to play dirty? He could play dirty. You would need to be reminded not to mess with the Radio Demon…

Alastor was furious. Livid, he had thrown a few pieces of furniture into the swampy marsh within his room. How dare you compromise his show that way. To do something that…lewd as he was on the air? How very dare her. If you weren’t so intrinsically linked to his livelihood, he would skin you alive. He generally kept his mind off of such carnal pleasures, considering them a waste of time and energy - what was the point, anyway? One could not procreate in Hell as a sinner, so there was no reason why one should engage in sexual activities. That was what he thought for himself, anyway. And it had worked for him for nearly a century. Decades over the amount that you had been alive overworld! Seething, he shredded one of his sitting chairs, the stuffing shooting out of the claw marks. His antlers were proudly massive, body big, but his pants still had evidence of younterference with his night.

_____________

Buckle up readers, it is beginning. I’m reading like a thousand shitty romance books to figure out how writers can describe genitalia now my search history is ruined.

@queermaxwooo @drawings-by-meh @sirens-and-moonflowers @looking1016 @mo-0-o @blakeaha @mutifandomkid @ministarheaven @nightingale0603 @loadedwafflefries @rizzscary @bishiglomper @vividachromatic @fluffy-koalala @mkaella @readergirlstuff

[writtenbyshama]

Long Way Home [Part I]

[Azriel x Reader fanfic]

Synopsis: Y/n is the daughter of a healer in the city of Velaris. After a small incident, she moves to the House of the Wind to work for the High Lord, Rhysand. Everyone in the house seems to welcome her except Azriel, the second in command. Even though he is just blankly polite and does not acknowledge her much, she can't help but fall for him. Does Azriel return her feelings or remain unfeelingly aloof?

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Part I

My first glimpse of Azriel had been when he arrived at my doorstep, searching for the High Lord. 

My father was famous in Velaris as a healer, and Rhysand had crashed through the front door—heavily injured and seeking the services of him. Unfortunately for him, I was alone in the house as father had gone to the mountains outside Velaris for an errand. I was mainly a chemist, researching herbs, concocting potions and salves; but I had dragged the half unconscious Rhysand towards one of the beds reserved for the patients. 

His injuries were mainly on his wings, they were torn through with arrows. The said arrows seemed to be poisonous, because his skin was quickly losing its pallor. It was my first time treating someone without father by my side, but I had steadied my nerves and my hands enough to bandage the wounds appropriately. Then I made him drink a small cup of herbal antidote for the poison in his system and covered him with a blanket to rest.

As he rested, I cleared wooden splinters and pieces of the broken entrance door (Rhys had literally crashed through) and was erecting a temporary barrier of canvas when the commanders Cassian and Azriel appeared. 

Apparently Rhysand had sent them some sort of signal to indicate where he was before passing out. They were relieved to see him in a peaceful rest, and I told them that they could take him back after my father did a once over to make sure he would heal well. That meant one of them staying the night, and Azriel had volunteered to do so. 

I had noticed the royalties and members of the inner circle around the town, but it was my first encounter with any of them. Rhysand radiated an aura of pure, lethal power even when injured, and Cassian had the rough, fierce power of a wolf. 

And Azriel—well, he was the shadow incarnate, his power being in the way he observed and gathered every bit of information about anything that surrounded him. His intelligence shone through the depths of his dark eyes, drawing in anyone like a moth to candlelight. While we waited for Rhys to wake up, he carried in a new door from the carpenter's workshop and helped me affix it to the entrance. 

He was a fae of few words, politely murmuring thanks when I brought over blankets and pillows for him to sleep on the bed next to Rhysand's after dinner. He didn't lie down, instead just bundled himself against the cold with the blankets and kept a patient, quiet watch over his High Lord. 

My father returned with the first light of dawn, and Rhysand woke up a couple of hours later. After giving him a thorough check-up, father told him that he would heal perfectly without any scars. I had done everything right, and I was proud. 

This incident had led Rhysand into inviting me to the House of Wind and joining the inner circle. He was leaning heavily on Azriel's shoulder, but still had the poise of a powerful ruler as he painted a pretty picture if I accepted—having access to the limitless library, using its resources to gain knowledge in a field of interest and using it whenever needed. 

I was hesitant at first, since father would be left alone if I left, but he himself had urged me to accept the offer. In the end, I accepted it with all my heart, and moved in to the House of Wind later that week. 

When all the belongings I needed were shifted to my new quarters, I was warmly welcomed as a new member of Rhysand's household. Though I was very shy, none of them made me feel like an outsider and happily took me in, which I was grateful for. 

The library was paradise for me. Rhysand arranged for a branched off space in one of its floors to be my laboratory to experiment what I had learnt. Amren helped by bringing me the rarest or the most poisonous herbs, and she never told me how she procured them even after me begging on my knees. I began to be happier, but also more knowledgeable with new healing potions. I divided my week so I could spend at least two days with my dad and the rest in the House of the Wind. All day, I made myself useful by studying and experimenting, or assisting the royal physician in her activities. 

Dinner had to always be eaten with everybody, and it was filled with jokes (mostly Cassian), laughter (from everyone), eye rolls at the jokes (from Nesta) and quiet smiles (from Azriel). After the meal, I had to walk beside Azriel to my quarters, his being adjacent to mine. 

As days passed, I slinked out of my shell of shyness and mingled with everyone. All except Azriel, of course. I mean, he was of a quiet nature, but I felt like he disliked me. I could see smiles and chuckles and small conversations drawn out of him by everybody but me. He never himself started a conversation with me, and when I tried to do so on the way back to our quarters, he gave disinterested one-word replies. 

I told myself that it wasn't a big deal. I had other things to worry about. But when I saw him speaking with someone else in the way I wanted him to speak to me, my chest squeezed painfully. It was especially rough when I saw him catering to Elaine. 

I never showed this turmoil on my face, though. Rhysand and Feyre were mates, and her older sister Nesta was Cassian's. It made sense if Elaine was Azriel's mate. 

Why then, that just the thought of it made me sad and hopeless?

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

This fanfic can also be found in Wattpad, along with other exclusive parts like playlists and pictures. Here's the link: https://www.wattpad.com/story/358573037-long-way-home

Happy reading! <3

Read Part II here.

[sweatervest-obsessed]

Home Is Where The Heart Is

Pairing: Steve Harrington x afab!reader

W/C: ~7.2k

TW: 18+ MDNI, smut Teehee. Face riding, oral (both m and f receiving), foul foul language, mentions of depression, smoking weed, impulsive decisions, self-deprecating thoughts, self-image issues, upset Robin Buckley, mentions of the Upside Down, scars, boobs, mentions of trauma

Notes: Yall, this one got away from me but I’m not mad about how it came out at all. She’s not edited but I sure as hell enjoyed writing her. I really wanted to write a reader who isn’t afraid to sass Steve since so much of the fan fic I see is a headstrong woman becoming some shy girl when she likes Steve, and as someone who literally bullies the people she loves, well…anywho. First time writing for Steve, second time writing and posting fan fic, and first time writing smut. Constructive criticism and comments are HIGHLY appreciated since I’ve rediscovered my addiction to writing. I really hope y’all enjoy it!!!

(finally went back and slightly edited away some mistakes lol October 2, 2024)

GIF not mine

Steve Harrington was so over everything in his fucking life. He was sick of shitbag father. He was sick of his emotionless mother. He was sick of going to work every day, sick of Hawkins, sick of Indiana, sick of his life. 

He was over it—truly. 

Eyeing himself up and down and up again, Steve stood in front of his bathroom mirror, critiquing every inch of his body: his scrawny arms, his too skinny shoulders, the bags under his eyes, the scars along his abdomen, even his hair felt flat and volumeless. Steve was just over himself. 

Which is why he almost didn’t feel bad when he drove up to Indianapolis to take a train to New York City, and told no one. He did leave a note in case his parents showed up at home, but the chances of that were slim to none. He knew it stupid of him not to tell anyone where he was going, and he knew that he was going to get the scolding of his lifetime from his friends when he eventually called them from New York, but for now he simply just wanted to enjoy the peace and quiet that the train had brought him. 

He had brought his walkman with a cassette that was made for him a while ago. Currently, Head Over Heels by Tears for Fears played in his ears as the city pulled into view. He had only been there a couple of times before, but each time the sheer volume of it seemed almost overwhelming at first. It was so different from Hawkins, from Indiana as a whole really, which is why he loved coming to visit so much. He knew that you had just left two weeks ago, a month in advance so you could get settled back into city life, starting up your job. He knew you'd be back in two weeks for the long weekend, and to celebrate with the barbeque your family had been running for years, but truthfully, he just wanted a week or two with you all to himself.

So imagine his surprise when you were actually in your apartment, and not in the library a block away, where he had assumed you’d be. He waited patiently in the lobby, watching the elevator doors, hoping that the next time it opened, it would be you. And it’s true, the third time really is the charm, since you walked out of the elevator in an oversized yellow sweatshirt (that may or may not have been Steve’s), and the sleep shorts you had owned for the past couple years, declaring they were your favorite. 

Your eyes lit up at the sight of him, shock and pure joy sprang across your face as your pace immediately picked up. The slippers you decided to wear down to the lobby were more or less halfway off your feet by the time you threw yourself into Steve’s arms. 

Steve dropped the duffel bag he had hastily packed next to his feet and wrapped his arms around you, as tightly as possible. 

“Hiya sweet girl.” He whispered into your hair, kissing your head softly. “Did ya miss me?” 

You snorted into his chest. “That’s a stupid fucking question Steven, we both know you’re smarter than that…” You pulled away and placed a hand on his cheek, the smile never leaving your face. 

“Of course I missed you.” You whispered to him, as if it was a secret only meant for him to hear. “Why don’t we head upstairs, yeah? I can show you the billions of boxes I’ve acquired from moving in.”

Steve kissed your forehead before letting go of you to grab the duffel bag that was now on the ground. You moved towards the desk, and filled out the visitor log on the counter before taking Steve’s hand and bringing him towards the elevator. He squeezed your hand lightly and rubbed his thumb back and forth. 

“I forgot that fancy miss NYU needed an elevator to get alllllll the way up to her new fancy apartment.” You had been extremely lucky. Your grades and work ethic both in high school, and in your first two years of college, had paid off in scholarships and work studies, meaning that you barely even paid for your education. But this past semester, for the next consecutive school year, you had won a housing scholarship, which meant you got to move into the brand new apartment style dorms for upperclassmen for almost nothing a month. 

“Oh please.” You rolled your eyes and scoffed playfully. “It’s an elevator that barely works, and I’m only on the twelfth floor. One of the girls I was telling you about, Jenna? She lives on the twentieth floor. It’s fucking hell when the elevator stops working.” 

The elevator door opened, and a couple other students came out, passing the both of you. Steve watches as you smile and say hi to them. 

“They’re my neighbors.” You explained, pushing the button to your floor, and the doors closed. 

As soon as they did, Steve’s lips were on yours. Your back hit the elevator wall as his knee slotted between your legs. Hummed softly as your arms snaked around his neck, one hand finding a way into his hair, fingers pulling gently on it. 

“I missed you too Handsome” You sighed as Steve slowly started to kiss up your jaw. You tugged on his hair again, and he let out what could only be described a one stop short of a whine. 

The elevator dinged, and he moved away from you, grabbing your hand. 

“Lead the way, gorgeous.” 

Steve would follow you to the ends of the earth. Hell he’s followed you to hell, and back again. He’s watched the very hand he’s holding swing an ax and chop off the head of demon dogs that had taken over Hawkins. He’s seen you rip apart a demobat with your bare hands simply because it looked at him. He’s watched you comfort the kids countless times, holding them when they needed more than just words. He’s watched you try to drink and smoke away the nightmares the two of you shared for years. But he’ll gladly settle for following down the carpeted hallway, stained with things he will never want to know about, towards your apartment.

It was just you, which meant that the entire apartment was pretty bare. The walls only had a few things hanging up on them, and you didn’t even have a couch yet. There were boxes everywhere, but not as many considering you had little to nothing that you brought to New York. But, it made Steve happy to see your personality shining through, despite the vicious nature of your high school experience. 

You took his bag from his hand and pointed towards the phone. 

“How’d you know?” 

“Well, Baby, don’t take this the wrong way, but while you’re never one to run away from those you care about, you are absolutely one to run away from your feelings.” 

Steve rolled his eyes and started to protest, but you just gave him a quick kiss to silence anything he might have to say. 

“Besides, Robin called about thirty minutes before you did, freaking the fuck out. And I refuse to get the brunt end of your beating.” 

You kissed the side of his head before leaving the bedroom, to go to the bathroom, decidedly getting ready for bed now, even though it was barely 5 pm. You knew doing your nightly routine once Steve was here was almost a Sisyphean task. 

Steve had watched you leave before picking up the phone and dialing Robin’s house. It didn’t even ring twice before it was answered.

“Hello?”

“Hey Rob–”

“Steven Harrington I am going to DROWN you. What the fuck Steve we have been so worried about you, especially when you didn’t show up to drive Dustin and Lucas and Max to school, and then didn’t show up for work two days in a row. I mean Steve, you were missing for over twenty-four hours! Your car wasn’t at your house and we could hear the phone ringing in your house when one of us would call—Eddie even went and led a mini search party around Lover’s Lake. Steve we thought, we….” 

Steve pinched his nose while listening to Robin, letting her ramble before she tapered off. “Robs I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry anybody but I just need to be alone and just…”

“Where even are you Steve?” 

“....I’m uh, I’m…in New York.” 

“WHAT. Steve you’ve got to be fucking kidding me, that's like, an eighteen hour train ride, let alone–”

“Rob–”

“The drive up to Indianapolis. I mean Steve we thought you died and instead you were just going on a long distance booty call? Are you fucking insane? Do you know how many people get kidnapped on trains–”

“Robin–”

“Why couldn’t you have just told us where you were going? It’s not that hard top pick up a phone I mean literally exhibit A right now–”

“Robin! Look, I'm sorry. I know what I did was kind of fucked but...Don't call Y/n "a long distance booty call"."

"Sorry. That wasn't..."

"I know." He sighed. "I just needed to not be in Hawkins. I needed to be near her…”

Robin's eyeroll was audible.

“Look Steve, I get it. I miss her too. But you couldn’t have waited another like, two weeks like the rest of us?” 

Just then, you walked back into the room; face washed and teeth brushed. You smiled and kissed his check. 

“No Robs. I couldn’t. I’ll see you in two weeks, or something.” 

“Ste–” He hung up the phone and turned to face his girlfriend. 

“How pissed is she?” You asked, turning to face him, watching him take a few breaths. Steve moved towards the windows, and opened one of them up. 

“Extremely, but they’ll all be fine.”

“When’s the last time you slept Steve?” You walked over and wrapped your arms around his waist, kissing the spot in between his shoulder blades. He let out a grunt of disapproval, but didn’t move since he enjoyed the feeling of your lips on his back. He breathed in the city air, and it was by no means the fresh air Hawkins used to once have, but it was different and that was all that mattered. 

“Do you still have any of the rolls Eddie gave you during Spring Break?” He muttered before turning around and holding you in his arms, kissing your head. 

“Oh so you only came up here to get free drugs?” 

Steve chuckled and shook his head.

“To answer your question, yes I do. But I have some stuff from the guy who lives a couple floors up, and you cannot tell Eddie but it’s ten times better.” 

“You sneaky sneaky girl. Can’t believe the city turned you into such a deviant. Valedictorian of her high school class turned into a big city pothead. What would your mother say?” He fake scolded, giving you one of the looks he frequently gave to Dustin or any of the other kids when they did something even remotely out of the rhetorical line Steve had created. 

“If you wanted any, you could’ve said so Stevie.” 

The nickname made his heart flutter a little bit. “That’s not what I said.” 

“Yeah well now you owe me for calling me a delinquent.” 

“Actually it was deviant so now I know you don't even listen to m–” You cut him off by kissing his lips, except the smile on your face was too bright to give him a full kiss. 

“Do you want the goods or not Harrington…” 

Steve nodded and kissed your head one more time. “Yes please.” 

You pulled away from him, much to his dismay, but he watched as you went under your bed. Almost your entire body was completely under the bed, and he heard you moving a couple of things around. 

“Are you trying to get back to the Upside Down under there?” He joked as you pull yourself out from under the bed, a ziplock bag containing a couple of blunts in your hand. “Ha ha. Very funny. Hold this.” 

“Aye aye Captain.” He gave you a mock salute and took the bag from your hand while you got to work. You grabbed the towel off of the back of your door, rolled it up, and shoved it against the bottom of the door before standing up, pulling a lighter off of your desk. 

“Okay gorgeous, get that sexy ass of yours out on the fire escape.” 

“Yes ma’am” Steve smiled at you before he clambered onto the fire escape. It was these moments he so desperately craved with you. If he could sit on a fire escape and watch the sunset with you every single night, he would go back to the Upside Down and fight Vecna all over again just to have this moment with you. He sat down against the railing, and let his legs dangle off the side. It seems they weren’t the only ones with this idea, but Steve sure as hell didn’t mind once your thigh was against his. The warmth of the sun mixed with the warmth of your body was more than enough to quell whatever had been going on in his mind. Once he noticed you were staring at him, a light blush tinged his cheeks. 

“What.” He grumbled, looking down through the grate at the people below. 

“Oh nothing, just observing my very handsome boyfriend, and trying to figure out what was clouding his head so badly that he literally dropped everything and disappeared for twenty four hours because he needed to be near me.” 

“What are you getting at lady.” he grumbled, pulling one of the joints, and carefully closing it back up before he chucked it back into your room. He reached behind him and almost closed your window all the way, just enough to squeeze some fingers under to get back inside. He placed the joint in his mouth, and turned to you. You flicked the lighter on, the flame reflecting in both of your eyes before you lit the end of it. 

Steve took a deep drag. He let it fill his lungs. He needed it to push away all of those doubts from before.

After a moment, he slowly exhaled and handed you the joint, still looking forward. The view was really something, considering the fact that if he stared directly across, it was into some elderly woman’s apartment with at least three different cats. But if he turned and looked down the rest of the street, he could see so much more of the city than he ever thought he would be able to. 

You looked at him, taking your own slow inhale of the joint. You placed it on the ashtray near the window and took his hand in yours. 

“Want to tell me what’s running through that pretty head of hair?” 

Steve scoffed before looking down at you. Your eyes were swimming, drowning really, in worry. You kept looking over all of his face before settling back on his eyes. “Steve…” Your voice had gotten softer, and you rubbed your thumb against his hand. “I need you to tell me why you’re here. I promise I’m not mad. I’m actually super relieved that you’re here, if I’m being so truthfully honest Steve. But I know you–I’m actually quite proud of how well I know considering you’re basically a brick wall—Sorry, rambling. But the main point is that you just up and left Hawkins. You traveled halfway across the country for me, and I am so flattered but baby, what’s going on?” 

Steve kissed your hand, before reaching back and grabbing the joint. He took another hit of it, enjoying the ambiance of the city surrounding him. 

“Steve please talk to me.” 

He placed the joint back in the ashtray before placing his hand on your thigh. The sun was getting closer to the horizon, and the temperature was slowly starting to cool, but just enough to make it bearable. If he looked at you, he might just break. 

But you weren’t having any of it. You took your free hand and gently guided his chin, subtly forcing him to look at you. 

“Steve. I need you to tell me what’s going on or I can’t help.”

“Maybe it’s nothing you can fix.” He rasped out, taking in a gasp of breath. The tears quickly started to build up behind his lash line. And he tried so hard to keep them at bay. He didn’t need to cry in front of you, he didn’t want to cry in front of you. “Fuck. Sorry.” He quickly wiped at his eyes a couple of times, desperately trying to keep it together in front of you. 

“Don't apologize when you haven't done a single thing wrong." You quickly grabbed both of his hands and pulled them away from his face. "At least give me the chance to try and help with whatever is going on.” 

Steve bit his lip and looked away from you. “It’s so stupid. Fuck. It’s so fucking stupid. I just had this moment.” He started, “I had this moment yesterday and I was in the bathroom and I was just looking. I could see every single fucking thing wrong with me. It’s like I was making some sick fucking list or some shit. And-And I needed to get out so badly. I couldn’t stay in that house. That stupid house. I needed to leave Hawkins. If I stayed I–” He stopped himself, tears rolling down his cheeks, he finally looked at you. Steve took a couple of breaths before finally continuing, focusing on the way your thumb rubbed across his cheek, despite the light stubble adorning his chin. He looked into your eyes, which were patiently waiting for him to continue. 

You were looking at Steve as if he were the only thing worth saving in this world. And it's a look he's seen before.

“I needed you. And I just couldn’t wait two weeks for some three day visit where I was barely going to get maybe three hours alone with you. I just–Fuck.” He placed his hands on your wrists, turning his head and kissing the palm of your hand. “I’m sorry.” 

“I’m still not sure what you're sorry about Steve.” You smiled sweetly at him, saccharine in every single way possible. He didn’t understand what he had done in the world to possibly deserve someone like you, but he was sure as hell not about to let you go. How could you just sit there and listen to him, and love him so sweetly, when he was so fucked up, inside and out. His body was marred with reminders of everything they had been through. His mind was thoroughly fucked up, and he quite literally runs away from himself and his friends and–

“Steve.” 

His eyes refocused on you. 

“Why don’t we go inside and lie down. I have a gut feeling you haven’t slept in at least twenty-four hours.” You had managed to move from sitting next to him, to kneeling, all while keeping a hand on his cheek.Your thumb was wiping away any stray tears left over. Your other hand was slowly rubbing your thumb across his thigh, it could not have been the most comfortable of positions but somehow you made it look like it was nothing. 

Steve shook his head. “No, no. I’m fine I promise, shit.” He turned away from you, getting up. 

“Steven, I am not doing this right now. You ran away from your house, and traveled halfway across the country to come see me. You haven’t slept in a couple of days, clearly. I need you to climb back through that window and change into whatever you need to for sleeping because you are not okay right now, and I’d rather be a little bitchy just to get you in my bed, then sit here while you pull away from the one person you came here to see.” 

Steve pursed his lips and looked over at you. “You’re not gonna stop until you get me in your bed are you?” his joke only landed slightly flat as you huffed at him, the ghost of a smile on your face. 

“Move it or lose it Harrington.” 

He nodded and leaned down to grab the ashtray for you, but you had beat him to it. “You’re getting slow, old man.” 

Steve rolled his eyes before opening up the window back into your room, and climbing through it. You followed him through, placing the ashtray on your dresser. You turned around to close the window and the curtains, while Steve just sat on the bed and watch you. 

“I know you’re staring at me creep.” 

“Can’t help it. Sorry.”

You huffed at his antics before turning around and making your way towards him. Laying down on your bed, you found yourself between his legs, arms wrapped around his neck, hands playing with the edges of his hair. “Steve you are far from perfect–”

“Gee thanks.” He gave you a weird look, but you continued anyway. 

“But, let me finish, you are not some fucked up…thing, that can’t be fixed. In fact, you’re not some toy or whatever that is supposed to be fixed. You’re not a shattered figurine in your moms stupid little china cabinet or a bent golf club in your dad’s honestly weirdly large putter collection. You are just someone trying their best to get by and it is enough. Being fixed means there is this ideal of perfect that you have to be, but there is not a stupid goal that you need to always be at Steve. You are absolutely amazing the way you are. You are braver than anyone I’ve ever met. You are sometimes too kind for your own good, constantly giving and giving to others when you have nothing else to give but parts of yourself. And you are one of the most selfless people on this earth. You have sacrificed so much Steve, and that doesn’t make you any less, or make you this broken…thing. It just means that you have lived a life that most people couldn’t even imagine, and you are still more than enough for the people who love and care about you.” 

Steve kissed you. 

He couldn't say much of anything to show you how much you meant to him.

“I love you.” He muttered against your lips, pulling you tighter against his body as he continued to deepen the kiss, letting his tongue sweep across your bottom lip. Hands roaming across bodies. Soft gasps for air. Neediness pouring out from the both of you.

He need to show you that you how grateful he was.

You couldn’t get enough of his lips. It had only been a few weeks since you had seen him last, kissed him last, but that was just far too long ago. You had been thinking about him while you wandered around your nearly empty apartment. Something felt like it was missing, and with Steve here, kissing you into bliss, the apartment felt full. It felt like everything was where it was supposed to be–always connected to him, giving life to one another. Your body flush against as much as his as you could, hands pushing against his neck, to try and get impossible closer to the boy who holds your heart in his chest with his own. 

“I love you too Steve.” You manage out once the both of you part for more than  a semblance of breath. He smiled at that and kissed your jaw softly. “I missed you so much babygirl.” 

A soft hum left your mouth, enjoying the warmth of his lips as they slowly moved towards your ear, your neck. His hands had made their way to your hips, fingers gently pushing into the soft flesh.

“You have no idea how much I missed having you in my bed every morning.” Lips finding the soft spot behind your ear. “In my car.” He nipped at your ear, earning him a soft exhale that fell from your lips. “On my couch. In the pool.” He started to slowly kiss down your neck, sucking a bit harder in certain spots he had spent so many hours memorizing. “Mostly. I missed coming home, and getting to fall asleep in the same bed as you.” He sucked on the soft spot of your neck, right above your collarbone, and a soft moan tumbled from your lips as he did. You felt the smirk on his lips, but it was quickly replaced with Steve marking your neck, a hickey that would take too much concealer to hide.

“Fuck Steve.” Your body was glued to his, a slow heat rising through your veins. You shifted slightly, trying to squeeze your legs together, get some friction down where you needed it the most. “Please baby.” 

Steve blew softly on the mark he just left before kissing back up your neck to your lips. “Please, what, babygirl.” 

“Stop being such a tease.” You grumbled, running your hand through his hair, before grabbing some of it and gently tugging, eliciting a throaty moan from Steve’s pretty lips. He fucking loved when you did that. “When am I not?” He bit his lip as the two of you looked at each other. 

You shoved his chest just enough to get him sitting back down on the bed, so that you could climb up and straddle the boy. “If you want to be a tease, than I can do the same thing.” You whispered in his ear, earning a strangled sound coming from Steve’s throat. 

You slowly rolled your hips, feeling the bulge in his jeans grow larger at the contact. “I can tell how much you missed me Stevie.” There was that fucking nickname again. It had him preening as you rolled your hips again. His hands immediately went to your waist, pushing you down and helping you grind against him. 

Your lips made their way to his neck, to his collarbone. “Baby take your shirt off.” You muttered at him, stopping your movements for a second to help him pull it up and over his body. Your hands immediately found their way to his chest, lips crashing back to his, desperate to get your hands all over his body as if you were touch starved, maybe you were. And Steve would completely agree with you. His was just not touching you enough. 

One of his hands made it around your waist to your back still guiding the way your clit rubbed against the bulge in his jeans. His other hand went in between the two and he slid it under your shorts. 

Your breath hitched and your hips stuttered, losing their rhythm a bit as Steve rolled his middle finger around your clit. He smirked as you closed your eyes and let out a moan, grinding your hips a little harder, starting to ride his fingers, his hand. 

“Stevie please.” You mumbled, resting your forehead on his shoulder, letting out another moan as he pushed your underwear to the side, letting the rest of his fingers ghost over your throbbing clit. 

“What Babygirl. What do you need? Tell me what you want." He whispered in your ear, slowly pushing two of his fingers further south to feel just how wet you were for him. 

“Oh baby…” 

You whined at his words. 

“I want you t-to touch me Stevie.” You moaned into his ear as he shoved his fingers further down. Your hips jolted as he ran his fingers up your pussy, letting him feel just how wet you were. He brought his hand out from under both of you and you whined again, this time in protest at the loss of his hand. 

“Is this all for me, sweet girl.” He squeezed your waist, making you sit up slowly and look at him, grinding a little more desperate now that he pulled his hand away. You watched as he stuck his fingers in his mouth, tasting you. Your jaw opened slightly, and your eyes darkened as he moaned, tasting just how good and sweet you were. 

“Fuck Steve. Stop being such a fucking tease.” You barely managed out before you shoved his chest hard enough that he fell backwards onto his elbows on your bed. He looked up at you, eyes blown wide with the thought of fucking you sensless. “Get all the way on the bed Steve.” 

Steve, with little to no hesitation scrambled back onto the bed so he was fully laying down across it. His elbows reach your pillows as he barely holds himself up, watching as you eyed the strained denim where his dick was practically screaming to be touched. 

Once you had decided he moved far enough away, You took off the yellow crew neck revealing the lack of bra underneath. Steve groaned as your nipples pebbled from the contact to the air, regardless of how warm it was in the apartment. He moved to sit up but you just shoved his chest, and he fell back on his elbows. Your body rolled slightly, unhappy at the loss of contact from Steve, but you wanted something, and you knew that if you asked Steve to get you the moon, he would steal a couple extra stars just in case, which is why you wanted to suck him off before you asked him. 

“Baby I wanna taste you.” 

Steve’s eyes closed and his breathing became staggered. “U-Uh yea baby, what..um. Whatever you want.” 

“I want you to watch me. But..” His heart started beating faster as he felt you palm him over his jeans. He let out a breathy moan. “You can’t touch me.” 

Steve’s eyes flew open and as you pulled any of the hair that had fallen in your face, out of it. “W-What. Y/n..”

You kept your hand slowly palming at his bulge as you moved up along his body to kiss hip lips. Your tits ghosted over his chest making him shiver at the faint contact, and making your breath hitch at the way the contact felt on your nipples. “If you don’t touch me baby, You get a prize.” You kissed him softly, a contrast to the way you had been talking to him before. You were asking him to trust you. He kissed back and nodded. “Y-yeah, baby.” He managed out before leaning up on his elbows again, to watch you. 

You let your hands rake down his chest, your touch leaving chills down his body, and made his dick jump, causing goosebumps all over his body. 

“Fuck gorgeous.” 

You smirked up at him before kissing the little line of his V that was peeking out from above his jeans, using one of your hands to pop the button. You managed to pull off his jeans and boxers in one pull, something you bragged about to your friends whenever they asked about your sex life, but that was neither here nor there. 

You both watched as his dick sprang free, hitting his stomach. The movement caused Steve to whine a bit. “Baby I’ve got you cumming before I’ve even touched you.” You muttered to him, spitting into your hand before grabbing him. 

Steve lifted his hips into your hands, unable to stop himself. “Fuck babygirl.” He exhaled, watching as you licked the precum dripping down his dick. You moved your other hand down to his balls and squeezed them gently in your hand, watching as he tilted his head back and moaned. 

“You like that Stevie?” You smirked as he bucked his hips up, trying to resist the urge to fuck himself with your hand. You paused, waiting for him to make eye contact again. Once he managed to gain some semblance of his mind back, he titled his head up, chest rapidly rising and falling, looking into your eyes. The sheer control you had over him just made you hotter than possible. 

Slowly, you started moving your hand up and down, watching as he squirmed,  trying not to rush you. Eventually, you moved one of your hands up your body and slowly started palming at your own tits. Slowly rolling your nipple between your thumb and pointer finger, moaning at the feeling. Steve was about to lose his fucking mind. 

You were getting off watching yourself fuck him. 

You smirked at him once he realized what you were doing. “Tell me what to touch next baby.” 

Steve moaned loudly, and tilted his head back for a moment, trying to focus on anything other than the feeling of your hand on his dick and your hand on your tits, pleasuring yourself. 

“Tell me where to touch next Steve.” 

He managed to look back up at you, his hips slowly quickening as you continued to touch your chest. “W-Where do you–fuck princess–where do you want to be-be touched.” His eyes couldn’t leave your form as you licked your lips and slowly kissed down his dick, before slowly licking all the way up it again. 

“I wanna see how wet you are.” He managed out before he moaned again. “B-baby I’m not….” He squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m not gonna last much longer if you..” 

“I know Stevie.” You cooed as you continued to move your hand up and down his length. “But you’re such a good boy, you’re doing so good for me.” 

Steve’s jaw dropped and his chest was rising and falling faster and faster. You were moving just slow enough, teasing just enough, to keep him on the edge. 

You let go of him, making him panic and open his eyes. “Baby please, fuck I’m so close pl—” But the words froze in his throat once he watched as you slowly trailed that same hand down your own body and rub your clit with your thumb, letting out a moan, just for him. His mouth went dry as you slowly stuck two fingers into that pretty little cunt of yours, moaning slightly as you did, before pulling them out, covered in your pretty little wetness, just for him. 

The sound that left Steves mouth was not human, as he watched you slather yourself around his dick, just to then slowly put him in your mouth, letting him almost bottom out in your throat. 

“Oh my god.” He moaned out. “Fuck, baby, fuck I’m gonna–” He cut himself off with a moan as you slowly started to bob on his dick, choking slightly everytime you took him all the way in. You squeezed his thigh softly to let him know it was okay before you moved your hand back to his balls, squeezing them every time he bottomed out in your mouth. The sight alone was enough to make him cum right then and there, but what did him in was the way you kept twisting your tongue around the tip, just making him sensitive enough. You felt his dick twitching as he fucked up into your mouth. 

“Baby I–I–, Fuck Baby I’m gonna cu–” His orgasm hit him like a fucking freight train as he came in your mouth. Steve moaned your name loudly in between the rest of the moans he could barely contain. You felt the cum dripping down the back of your throat as you held his hips down, still moving your head, letting him let it all out into your mouth. 

Once he had been pushed to the brink of overstimulation, and his dick started to soften, you sat up and slowly crawled over him, raking your eyes over the wreckage you caused. His hands found quickly wrapped around your body and pulled you flush against him. Steve was sure you could hear his heart beating out of his chest. You slowly raked one of your hands through his hair. 

You slowly kissed his jaw, waiting for him to come to. 

Steve eventually was able to open his eyes, and look down at you. “What’s my prize you fucking deviant.” He managed out, voice still wrecked from the sheer amount of sound that came out while he fucked your mouth. His hands were slowly roaming over your body, touching every inch of you. 

You laughed softly and kissed his jaw again as he squeezed your ass with his hand. Propping yourself up on one elbow, you kissed his lips softly. 

“You’re fucking beautiful.” he mumbled against your lips, listening as you sighed so prettily. 

“Baby if you’re too fucked out, I can save your prize for tomorrow morning.” You whispered against his lips, slowly rubbing your thumb across his pecs, humming as he squeezed your ass again. 

“No fucking way because if that’s what I got to earn a prize, then I want the fucking prize.” Pressing you against him, watching as you still squeezed your legs together. 

“I want to ride you...”

Steve looked at you, almost cautiously, “Anything you want gorgeo-”

“—Your face.”  

A quiet ‘oh’ left his mouth, while a blush spread across your face. 

“Don’t get all shy on me now princess.” His hand reach down and tilted your chin up, forcing you to look back at him. 

“If you’re sure then who am I to deny such a fucking prize.” He licked his lips, lust blown eyes met yours as you let out the breathe you were holding. 

Steve watched as you nodded and lightly tapped against his chest, signaling for him to lay back down. You maneuvered out of your pajama shorts and underwear, tossing them across the room–finding them was a later problem. 

Your legs straddled over Steve’s chest, and his hands slowly slid up your thighs, letting his thumbs rub against the soft doughy flesh. Everytime he moved his thumbs up closer and closer, your hips would start to roll ever so slightly. 

“Steve…” You sighed out as he kissed up your thigh, before switching to the other one whenever he got too close. Except this time, you couldn’t reprimand him for teasing you, since you were his prize, and he could fuck you seven ways to heaven if he wanted. 

Frustration was starting to build up as he kept ghosting his lips over your cunt. Steve watched as your thighs started to shake, your chest heaving up and down, and your hair messily framing the most hypnotizing eyes, watching his every move, begging him to touch her. 

Steve could spend the rest of his life worshiping you–your thighs wrapped around his face, kissing up your stomach to reach your lips, leaving hickies spread across your chest like stars. So when he hooked his arms under your thighs, and pulled you down towards his mouth, he felt as if he was in heaven, hearing the yell of excitement leave your lips, quickly replaced with a moan as he slowly licked up your entire cunt. Flicking his tongue around your lip, and feeling your whole body react. 

Your hands shot out and clung to the headboard as Steve used his tongue to slowly draw figure eights across your clit. 

“Oh my god. Fuck. Steve—Baby please–” You let out a load moan when Steve shoved his tongue up into you, his nose brushing your clit. 

Your hips were moving as you began to ride his face. Steve just continued to lap up into you, moaning once he realized you were fucking yourself on his face. 

The vibrations ran straight through your body and to your tits. “Fuc-Fuck Stevie Baby.” 

Your moans only made his tongue move faster, before he brought one of his hands down and started rubbing your clit with his thumb. 

Your orgasm was quickly building in the pit of your stomach. You felt it grow as he moaned again when your thighs started to squeeze his head.

Moans and swears and gasps continued to fall from your mouth as you rode his mouth. 

Steve was completely drunk on you, lapping up your wetness as if he was a man starved. The noises you were making were beyond pornographic as he continued to fuck you with his tongue. 

“Fuck—Steve, fuck baby. I’m–Can I come Stevie fuck.” 

His brain short circuted for a moment as you continued to beg him to let you cum all over his face, make a mess of his lips and chin and chest. 

He looked up at you, eyes connecting with his. Just as you did, Steve quickly shifted your hips and sucked on your clit, while rolling it around with his tongue.

It was too much. 

You screamed his name as you came all of his face, hips spasming and he continued, pinning you down with his arms, not letting you move away from his mouth. You were the prettiest sight to see, cumming over him, like a goddess. 

He shifted slightly and started to fuck up into you with his tongue again, forcing you to start riding his mouth again, nose hitting your clit causing you to moan his name over and over again. Before the first orgasm was even over, the pressure of another one forced its way through your body.

One of your hands flew down into Steve’s hair, yanking on it roughly, causing him to moan into you. Your mouth opened but no sound came out as you gushed into Steve's mouth, pushing through your second orgasm, and him gladly drinking it up. 

This time, it was too much and your hips jerked away from his face, and onto his chest, soaking it. 

The two of you were panting as your body seized and shuddered, letting the pleasure roll over and over and over until it was bearable enough to look down at steve. 

His face glistened with your cum, dripping down his lips—it was the hottest sight you had ever seen. 

Neither of you said anything as you sat on his chest, body still shifting everytime another wave of your orgasm hit you, leaking down his chest. 

He just slowly placed kisses along your thighs, watching you come down from the intense high, thumb gently rubbing against your hip. 

“Don’t look at me..” You manage out quietly, a soft laugh following it. 

Steve kissed your thigh again. “Want me to let go of your legs baby?” 

“Not yet.” was his answer, and he complied, just watching as you slowly finished coming down. 

“Mmmkay.” You whispered and slowly lifted yourself off of his chest, and moved your leg around so you could lay down next to Steve. 

Steve sat up quickly, and kissed you, fervently but softly, letting your body relax. His lips didn't leave yours as he slowly finished laying you down. 

Eventually steve broke off the kisses and got off the bed to wipe you off his chest. 

The second your head hit the pillow, your eyes were closing and sleep was edging closer and closer.

Steve watched as your breaths started to even out and kissed your forehead before wandering off and locating the bathroom. He smiled as he switched on the lights, and the mirror in front of him lit up. He dug through one of the boxes, eventually finding a towel and using it to clean up your messy adventure, but looking at himself in the mirror.

Maybe everything was just the way it was supposed to be, maybe he was fucked up and flawed and his body was wrecked with scars, but—

“Steve?” He heard your voice carry through the apartment, pulling him from his moment.

You watched as he walked back into the bedroom.

“Are you okay?” You had made your way under the covers of your bed, eyes narrowing at his prolonged abscence from your bed.

“I’m okay babygirl. How are you doin’?” He slipped under the covers and pulled you into his chest, arms wrapped snuggly around your back.

Your lips kissed his neck softly before you rested your forehead on his collar.

“If you're just going to keep running to the city to see me." You muttered. "You should move in.”

Steve is sure he misheard you, but when you look up at him with those eyes, he knows you’re dead serious.

Maybe everything was perfectly fine, maybe he was perfectly okay.

“I’d love nothing more babygirl.” He whispered, kissing your forehead, watching as you smiled contently, starting to drift off to sleep.

And suddenly, it was quiet, except for the soft inhale and exhale of your breath. But this time, instead of everything wrong, all he could think about was how right everything was.

And for the first time, in a long time, Steve Harrington was looking forward to what his everything could be.

[mr-double-downer]

So since a jerkoff tonight wanted to mention “entry level positions” here’s the starting pay for grade 1’s/2’s for the waste water industry here california.

For a small fee of 99 dollars at my local community college (where I saw a flyer for this since I had gone in to take my Brit Lit final) I can take a three hour online course from 9am to 12 pm for a duration of four months. I’ll get my credentials for my grade one and will be eligible to take my grade 2 immediately. Even the minimum starting salary at 60 grand a year is very much doable to live on my own and save up to buy a house, even around here. There are five grades for operators as well as other types of positions for plant management and leadership that require a degree.

My father makes last time I checked 52 an hour as a grade two (he can’t pass his grade three because he’s not good at taking tests) along with all sorts of other benefits due to working for the city/county. He has no education higher than a high school diploma and he’s been doing this for over two decades. In fact the only reason why he learned about the job in the first place was because he knew a guy.

So what’s my point?

Opportunities like this in spite of the seeming ease of entry, are hard to come by. If I hadn’t taken a class in the building this flyer was posted in, I might not have seen it, and if my dad didn’t know a guy, he never would’ve found a breadwinner job so easily.

And sure 99 dollars isn’t much of an expenditure for me, but someone who is actually living paycheck to paycheck might have to think about it, even though it pays well because they’re always hiring operators as they build more plants. 9am to 12pm might be hard for some people to schedule around as it is kind of awkward time placement wise, and unless you have a laptop or computer (which can be another couple hundred dollar investment that some people might not have money to spend if they’re making minimum wage and living paycheck to paycheck) you’re going to have to find a public library with good internet access and hope they have computers available if at all, and honestly online classes really aren’t for everyone especially if you get distracted easy or find the lack of direct access to an instructor discouraging.

Social mobility/advancement has always been gatekept by money, because a lot of time to make money you need to spend money you might not have. This is really nothing to me money wise because I’ll be the first to admit I’m privileged in a lot of ways but a lot of people aren’t me. People don’t even talk about wastewater as industry because it’s also dirty work, the kind of work people turn their nose up to because you work with literal shit and shit water and piss and all sorts of other gross stuff.

Yet the entry level position that requires a 99 dollar enrollment fee and spending 3 hours a week for four months pays a lot better than most jobs that require a degree or trade school/apprenticeship.

So when people say entry level positions shouldn’t be livable I’m going to share this, and say “I bet you feel real stupid now huh?”

And some will say “but downer waste water is really important work our society couldn’t function without it!” yeah you’re right so would every other entry level wagie shit because I doubt most people have the means to live on their own without having to go to the grocery store every couple of weeks. Not even that but people lose their shit about not having access to caffeine, and if you have a pet especially an exotic one like a snake that requires mice whether dead or frozen how are you going to feed without some schmuck like me grabbing it for you?

now never did I say wagie shit needs to be a high paying career cause I’m a firm believer in a job being a job till the next one, but if people take me saying what amounts to “I don’t think people should have to struggle to live even a little comfortable” as some kind of… attack? then I really don’t know what to say other than go fuck yourself and develop real issues to be angry about.

[bobwess]

Ao3 seems fixed, but just in case, here is my old fic "Rest and Rebirth" in its entirety. [ link to it on ao3 ] TW: Pain and injury.

CHAPTER ONE Dean wasn't sure when this started, whatever this was. He supposed it had been a few months ago. Probably a few years ago, but they really took a step in recent history. They hadn't attempted to put words to it. Honestly they didn't talk about it much at all. It just sort of evolved naturally.

The hunter was no stranger to nightmares, and he was pretty sure the things he had seen would drive a normal man crazy. Four years old, he was dreaming of his mother burning on the ceiling. Then monsters. Losing Sammy. Losing his father. 40 years of hell. They stepped up a solid notch after the Mark of Cain, his stint as a demon doing nothing to help. They intensified after Michael took control and wore his face to a monster slaughter. Jack dying somehow made them even worse.

It took a while, but they built. Time was, a bottle of hunter's helper before bed could buy him most of a night's rest, but even that stopped working, and upping the intake was unsustainable in the long run. So he had muddled through. His drinking habit could buy him a few hours at least, and then he'd just white knuckle it until morning.

At some point, he started waking up to Cas standing over his bed, in a proper nod to old times.

"Cas, we talked about this…"

"You prayed to me in your sleep."

"I…" He looked up groggily "What?" He shook his head. "Got some wires crossed there bud. Sorry to bother you."

It wasn't isolated to that instance. Every time he woke up with a scream threatening to rip from his lips, there Cas was. He had given up hovering, and usually was found on a chair, turned from the desk.

"Don't you have anything better to do than watch me sleep?"

"No."

Dean had to admit, it was becoming sort of comforting. He'd wake in a panic, and he started to look for the angel, taking for granted he would be there. In a new turn of events, after calming down he started to sometimes manage to find sleep again, even after waking from the depths of hellish visions. He would never admit it out loud, but he liked the safety he felt when Cas was around. Cas must've known, because he kept showing up.

Eventually Cas started sitting with Dean during his nightly routine of drinking before bed. They'd start in the library, and then when he worried their conversations would bother Sam's sleep, they'd move to his room. Cas was starting to open up to being more conversational, more talkative than he used to be. Dean appreciated the time spent, keeping his mind off the impending night's sleep. Cas would leave when Dean looked ready to sleep, but he'd always be back by the time the hunter woke in a cold sweat.

It took another couple weeks before Cas just didn't leave. He'd settle into a chair, and they'd spend time until Dean passed out. They didn't even necessarily talk any more. Sometimes Dean would listen to music, leafing through a magazine, and Cas would watch something on the laptop. Dean would inevitably drift off, and wake to find Cas before drifting off again. He found the dreams more and more manageable, and much to Cas' unspoken pleasure, he found his nightly drinking had become less necessary, and easier to cut back on.

The night after a particularly hard hitting hunt, Dean found himself suffering something of a relapse. Something stirring in his mind, he couldn't let go of. Instead of his now common startle waking up, he shot out of sleep, hand pulling the gun he kept under his pillow, his breath caught in his throat making him sure he would choke to death. He looked to his right, and the chair was empty, Cas gone, and that only made his chest tighten more.

He almost shot the angel when a hand touched his left shoulder, and he turned, wild eyed to come face to face with Castiel. Cas was sitting on the edge of his bed, hands up as if trying to calm a wild animal. His face was stricken with concern, and Dean slowly lowered his weapon.

"Cas?"

"You were screaming."

The hunter started to catch his breath, and finally managed the mental control to shove the firearm back under his pillow. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, sitting up and trying to ground himself. He rubbed his face and head, taking a deep breath and reminding himself he was in his room and safe.

Cas remained perfectly still, not daring to touch the hunter for fear of startling him, but not wanting to move away either.

"Fuck." Dean said simply, leaning back to collapse onto his bed again, feeling thoroughly drained and more than a little shaken. He blindly reached for his night stand, hoping to catch his whiskey bottle and take a swig to take the edge off, but he brought back a water bottle instead. He forgot that at some point Cas had made a habit of switching the two bottles while he slept. He paused, but decided to just go with it, taking a sip and somehow still feeling a little better for having done so.

Cas shifted, making to stand and return to his quiet vigil when Dean grabbed his arm, seeming just as surprised as Cas when he did it. Castiel looked down at him, his head tilted, trying to read Dean's expression.

Dean frowned, but he pressed on against his inner doubts. "Stay…." He hesitated. "Please."

Cas didn't say anything, he just settled back, and then, after a moment of uncertainty, he leaned back against the mound of pillows on the bed, laying next to the hunter, facing him.

Dean watched Cas settle in, his expression blank. He wasn't fully sure what to make of this development, but at the moment he was too tired and worked up to process it. But with Cas' presence so close, the hunter managed to find sleep again fairly quickly.

Now at night, there is an unspoken agreement. When Dean Winchester finally settles onto his bed, Castiel takes up his place beside him. Sometimes when Dean wakes their foreheads are just barely touching, or Cas' hand rests on his arm. The proximity is always calming enough that sleep returns to the hunter in a matter of minutes.

Dean isn't sure what he'd call this. It was some sort of love for sure, but unlike than the love he had known in his life. It was nothing like the love for his brother, or Bobby, and so different than the love he had for Lisa. He smiled vaguely as he thought of Charlie, and how she would probably call it his bisexual awakening. He had heard her use that term before, though he didn't think that quite described whatever link he and the angel had managed to build.

Still, he had to admit, there was something. Something he couldn't put words to, but he and Cas never had seemed to struggle with the lack of a label.

For now he chose not to dwell on it, and simply be thankful for the newfound warmth he felt when he slept. CHAPTER 2

Cas listened for the moment Dean's breathing evened out. Usually these days he simply waited beside the hunter, ready to step in and fight back the nightmares in his mind when he sprang awake. Tonight however, Dean would be waking up in the room alone. Cas pulled the letter from his pocket, slipping it out and leaving it folded on the side of the bed, knowing Dean would look over to where he normally was. It was intentionally vague, but it assured Dean he was coming back.

He got up silently and crept over towards the door, looking back over his shoulder one last time before easing it open and slipping through. Once it was silently closed again, Cas could move a little less cautiously as he made his way through the bunker towards the exit. He paused outside the library, listening for any telltale signs Sam was still awake and on his laptop, but after a moment he was relatively sure his exit was unguarded.

The angel slipped behind the wheel of his once-stolen truck, only then allowing himself to hesitate. He opened the small bag he had with him and double checked its contents, making sure he wasn't forgetting anything he might need where he was going. Once satisfied he swallowed, feeling a small tug of uncertainty. It quickly burnt itself out however and Cas started the truck, pulling away from the familiar bunker.

He had spent months agonizing over this decision. He still wasn't sure it was the right one, he just knew it was what he wanted. When Cas finally pulled up to the old farm he had eyed as a nice out of the way place to work, he found himself simply sitting and staring at it, the uncertainty flickering up again for one last round of what-if.

Was it worth risking Dean's life for your own happiness? To risk Sam's?

That was the question. But, he had to remember, that wasn't the right question to ask. Was it worth potentially risking Dean's life for your own happiness? Even more accurate, was it worth potentially being able to simply help Dean less? To help Sam less?

He hadn't made the decision alone. As soon as he finally figured out it could be done, he talked with Sam. He admitted he wanted to let go of his grace, become human once more. He admitted that he feared he was more useful to them as an angel, arguing that it was just safer if he was in possession of his grace. As soon as he made the argument, he had pretty much convinced himself, and he tried to withdraw the question.

Sam was, as usual, persistent they talk it through. They would have several long conversations about it over the next week, more than Cas had talked about any one topic with anyone before. The angel was appreciative of his discretion, and Sam was respectful of his decision not to involve Dean.

He knew the chance to change plans was behind him, and this concern he had now was not going to stop him. He knew how to push through and past fear. He had led an assault on hell when she was at her most guarded. The only person who could talk him out of it was kept out of the loop exactly for this reason.

The soon to be human stepped out of his truck, holding the bag awkwardly as he headed inside the rundown barn. He smiled weakly. Every barn he was in reminded him of meeting Dean face-to-face for the first time. Sure, his angelic form had pulled his soul from the pit, but to stand on the same field, both as men. Or at least, in his case, something resembling men. Fitting that it was also the last place he'd stand as an angel.

He prepared the spell quickly, glad it wasn't overly complex. The ingredients were found in the bunker. Sam had help him build a spell to do what he wanted using books the men of letters had left behind. It wasn't easy. This spell wouldn't simply remove his grace, it would destroy it, every last piece. Sam had worried about the risk to Cas himself, as his body would be effectively human when it was over. He didn't care.

Cas was just finishing the last of the sigil work when his chest clenched. His angelic hearing picked up the familiar rumble of the impala approaching, and he listened with dread when the engine cut. He hoped that by some miracle it was Sam, just making sure all was well, but he knew it wasn't. The barn door opened up and he was faced with the older Winchester. "Hello Dean."

Dean's mouth was set in a line, and Cas found himself having a harder time than usual figuring out what emotions were fighting for space in Dean's head. He was moving slowly, with a deliberate walking pace. "Cas." He said simply, but his tone offered no more clues. He came to stand just a few feet away from the angel.

Castiel found himself frozen, making no move to complete the last of the sigils, no move to put down the brush either. The silence ticked on until he finally chose to break it. "How did you-"

"GPS on your phone." Dean finished. "Got your letter, real specific, thank you."

Alright, so there was a touch of the sarcasm Cas had expected. "Oh." He said simply, not knowing how to reply to the statement directly.

"So, do you need me to give you a second to come up with a lie about why you're out here, or do you have one prepared?"

"Dean-"

"Save it Cas." Dean put his hand up, cutting him off. He took a deep breath, and looked at the ground. "I know why you're out here." He glanced up and frowned again. "I overheard you talking to Sam one night, weeks ago at this point."

"You didn't say anything."

"Figured you would have asked me if you wanted my opinion."

Cas opened his mouth to say something, but Dean put up his hand to silence him again.

"Are you sure it's what you want? Forget Sam and I, are you sure that this is what you want."

"Yes."

"Okay."

Cas stared at him for a moment. "Okay?"

"I trust you." Dean said softly, though Cas could tell he was fighting a war with himself to say that. It wasn't a question of trust, though Dean clearly thought this was a bad idea. But with this blessing, Cas' last doubts evaporated. "What can I do to help?"

"There isn't anything. The sigils will help contain the grace. Normally another angel would need to help draw out the grace, but I cannot ask them. I, of course, will be draining it all, so I will be unable to direct it for long. So I needed to artificially-"

"Okay okay." Dean said dismissively, trying to stop the long overly-detailed explanation Cas was giving.

"The first part of the spell gathers the grace behind this sigil." He indicated one in his chest. "I make the cut, and drop the ingredients into the flame. The angel part of me should burn out."

"Alright."

"You will need to close your eyes. The unshielded grace would easily blind you." Like it had Pamela.

"Will it hurt?"

"You shouldn't feel it if you are far enough away."

"Will it hurt you?" Dean clarified.

"Oh." Cas said softly. "Yes." The appeal of this spell was the totality. There was no way to undo this spell. No other angel's grace could be given, his own grace could never be returned. The pay off for it's permanence was brutality. The grace wasn't simply being cut out, it was being ripped out, and burned. In many ways he was dying to be reborn.

Dean finally frowned, arms crossing as he looked over the sigil work and spell ingredients. He didn't comment for a moment, his mind seeming to process everything so far. For a moment, Castiel thought he was going to abandon his support and try to convince Cas to stop. But he simply gave a curt nod. "Where should I stand?"

"Near the door should be far enough." Cas said, finishing the last strokes of the white paint on the old weathered wood. He knelt in the circle, candle burning, and a smaller satchel of ingredients within reach. He tightened his grip over the angel blade in his hand, and gave a nod to Dean.

The hunter turned his back, and Cas could see his shoulders tense.

Cas recited the first part of the spell, easily sounding out the difficult enochian incantation. The second the last syllable passed his lips, the atmosphere in the barn shifted. The room felt as if it had become electrified. Dean could feel the hair stand up on the back of his neck. He turned and looked out of the corner of his eye, ready to close them in an instant if needed, but Cas was not yet ready to progress. The sight of the shadow of his broken wings surprised Dean. He had caught glimpses before, fleeting, but they showed no sign of fading now as they were clearly reacting to the blatant attack.

With the electricity, Cas could feel his grace begin to move. The power contained within every cell of his vessel came alive at once, and with it came the pain. Castiel had felt pain before. When his wings were scorched with hellfire. When Raphael brought the wrath of heaven down on him. When the leviathan ripped through his body. This was white hot fire being drawn through his very essence, and as much as he thought he was prepared, the pain took him entirely off guard.

Cas set his jaw, trying to turn the knife, trying to redirect it towards his chest, trying to fight through the pain. He fumbled, and the blade clattered to the ground. He reached down, trying to pick it up again. His fingers brushed over the knife, trying desperately to get his hands to obey him and close around the hilt. He felt the hand close over his and he reacted violently, trying to pull away. "No Dean." He hissed through clenched teeth. "You're going to get hurt…"

"You need help." Dean said firmly.

"My grace… my wings… they're going to burn right through-" Cas couldn't get the words out, but he knew Dean understood. He was horrified when the grip only tightened over his hand, slipping the blade out of his hold.

"I know." Was the only response he got.

Cas weakly tried one last time to pull the knife from Dean, to push him away, but his body was weakening under the strain of the grace threatening to tear through his chest. He felt one strong hand on his shoulder, holding him steady. He looked up in time to see those green eyes close as Dean pushed the knife forward just a little.

The energy released from the tiny cut knocked both men back from each other. Dean went flying across the room and Cas rolled, almost falling out of the set of runes and sigils. The light streamed from him, gathering and pooling around him. Cas couldn't help but scream as the liquid fire flooded through his body and out into the world around him. He tried to force himself to move past the pain, scrambling for grip to pull himself up towards the candle, towards the ingredients for the last part of the spell…

Strong arms grabbed him again, coming from behind him. He looked up with fear, but Dean had his eyes shielded against the light. He reached blindly past Cas, grabbing the satchel. He propped the angel up in his arms, prepared to drop the contents into the small flame. Cas knew it was pointless to fight him, and he was too weak to reasonably try. So instead he mumbled the enochian spell, and let his head fall back against Dean when he was done. Dean tossed the spell ingredients into the flame.

The grace grew with intensity and surrounded Cas. He felt the moment his wings caught alight, and he could feel more than hear Dean cry out in pain behind him. The noise built until it was a deafening roar, and Cas too had to close his eyes against the blinding light.

Then as quickly as it had built, it was over. The room was unnaturally quiet and dark. The candle was long extinguished, as well as the lantern Cas had brought, leaving only the moon glinting into the barn to light it's walls.

Cas still lay panting in Dean's arms, unable to even lift his head. Dean slid down to lay next to him, still holding an arm around the angel, keeping him grounded as tears ran down his face. It was done. He was human. Or at least as human as he was ever going to be.

They didn't talk or move for close to an hour. At some point Cas had drifted off, completely spent from the physical toll the spell took. When he woke there was sunlight streaming through the barn, and he could hear the deeper breathing of the unconscious hunter behind him.

He rolled, extracting himself from the heavy dead weight of Dean's arm. He heard the hunter wake, and met green eyes when he finally managed to look.

Cas winced as he saw the scene around him. The barn looked as if a small bomb had gone off, a clear blast ring around them. The hay and debris that had littered the floor was pushed back to the far corners, propelled by the force of the spell. Right where Cas had been propped up, scorched into the wood was an almost perfect imprint of his angel wings. The only part not visible on the floor was the burnt outline of the feathers that was clearly across the hunter's torso.

Cas closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He had wanted to do it alone, wanted Dean away and safe. Dean had come to help only to immediately get hurt from his recklessness. He could have ditched the phone, could have gone further from the bunker, could have done any number of things…

"It's okay." came the gruff voice, and Cas opened his eyes again to look into Dean's. "I'm okay."

Cas slid a tentative and shaking hand across the floor, coming to rest gently on Dean's collar bone, withdrawing immediately when the hunter winced.

"It will heal." Dean insisted.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm not."

Pain reflected across the former angel's eyes. Dean would bear these scars forever. "I didn't want you to get hurt."

"I didn't want you to do this alone."

Cas finally let his body relax, letting the floor hold him up completely. He was entirely physically and emotionally spent. He didn't protest when Dean finally got the strength to stand and help him up. He didn't argue when Dean led him to the passenger side of the impala. He didn't say anything as they drove away from his truck. He simply allowed it to happen.

Because this was what he wanted. And he was now absolutely sure it had been the right choice.

[i-didnt-do-1t]

uhhh college roommates katherine & delanceys and katherine whos had bad experiences w men and is lowkey scared of the delanceys cuz they’re like big guys uhhhhh yeah

It didn’t take much to make her regret her accommodation choice. It had come after an argument with her father, trying to persuade him that a shared flat would be better for her than one of those private studio suites.

The whole fight had been embarrassing, and she hadn’t been able to look him in the eye when finally divulged how utterly lonely she felt, that she wanted to be around people, have the possibility of making friends outside her classes; but it was what made him relent in the end.

Of course he could never just lose an argument like that. Had told her if she wanted to choose her own accommodation that she’d have to pay for it.

And she could, just about, with her own funds, collected from various freelance articles and online work, but it was the bottom of the barrel. A run down block off flats just off the university campus. Walls painted over with years worth of white paint and a rattling radiator that never fully heated and housemates.

She hadn’t met them yet but she’d heard them; and that alone was enough to make her apprehensive. An abrasive southern accent, explicit and loud, and the arguing back of a voice that sounded tinged with an Irish pronunciation.

She’d applied for mixed dorms but she wasn’t necessarily expecting two men. Still. It had been a couple of days now, and she hadn’t had the chance to introduce herself properly, had caught flashes of brown curly hair and kept note of the dwindling bottle of whiskey in the kitchen- she didn’t even know their names.

She didn’t mean to be up this late. She had class in the morning and wanted to try and get to the library before then; with a penchant for sleeping in which had followed her all her life she was trying to get a better schedule, up and out of bed by six at the latest every morning. But it was nearing two am now and she could feel the bags slowly forming under her eyes and she was no closer to sleep than she had been hours ago when she’d first showered and pinned up her hair and did her skin care before crawling under the covers in a desperate attempt to try and block out some of the persistent nagging cold that she couldn’t seem to shake.

Eventually, she decided a cup of tea might help. She’d only flicked on the kettle when the front door was suddenly slammed open.

“It’s so fuckin’ cold. oh my god.”

“Ain’t that bad-“

“Only sayin’ that cause you want a cigarette.”

“Yeah. So I gotta go outside. They’ll kick us out if we smoke in here.”

“They ain’t gotta know do they. Just put a bag around the smoke detector.”

Katherine found herself frozen in the kitchen, arms wrapped around herself, pressing gown pulled a little tighter, and inadvertently made eye contact with the taller one.

“Shit. We wake you up?”

“Who the fuck’re you talkin’- Christ. Finally decided to come outta your room?”

She recognised the voice, the slight gravel to it and the accent that wavered on and off between southern and near indecipherable.

“No. No you didn’t wake me up.”

He was handsome, objectively, tall and strong jawed and strong looking, but between the two of them they took up all of the doorway, and that’s what made her heart pound in her chest a little.

“What’s your name. You been hiding for the last week.”

“I haven’t been hiding.”

“You ain’t come outta your room.”

“I’ve been working.”

“You scared of us?”

“I. No.”

The other one, the one that distantly smelt like smoke, snorted at that.

“Let her be, os. Fuckin’ lucky you ain’t been waking her up with how loud you are gettin’ back.”

“Christ don’t start complaining again-“

“M’ not complainin’-“

“If I’m working in a bar I’m gonna work late that’s just how it goes.”

“I know-“

“And remind me who the fuck is paying for us to stay here again? For you to study your bullshit course.”

“I said I’ll get a job-“

The kettle boiled. A sharp high pitched ringing that cut through the argument.

“Jesus Christ.”

Katherine pulled the kettle off the stove. “Do. either of you want tea.”

“Got anythin’ stronger.”

She paused, still holding the kettle, feeling the heat of it. Thought about the near empty bottle of whiskey on top of the fridge and the fist shaped hole she’s found in the hall the other day and the raised voices that kept her up late a couple nights previous.

He barked a laugh. Like he was funny. “Nah m’ just fuckin’ with you. Just wanna know your name.”

“I’m Katherine. P-“ she hesitated. “Plumber.”

He looked faintly amused. The other just rolled his eyes.

“Right. I’m goin’ to pass out, os. Wake me up in the morning?”

“Sure.”

“Night plumber”

“Oh. Goodnight-“

“Morris. My wee brother. M’ Oscar.”

“It’s nice to meet you.”

He snorted. “Yeah give it a month.”

[josukebrainrot]

Please do more bucci gang headcannons i take anything!

a/n: I just got this and was going to save this for last, but I couldn’t sleep last couple of nights and started thinking all of the general hcs for bucci gang I have . So, here it is !!

WHY DID THIS TURN OUT SO LONG ???!

warnings: sfw and nsfw hcs (will be separated), giorno x mista shipping, light abba x burno and fugo x narancia, mentions of risotto team.

General Bucci Gang Headcanons

sfw

starting with my love for giomis. mista can’t sleep without having some weight on him, and somehow mista can convince giorno to sleep on top of him when they’re together. giorno won’t admit to mista he enjoys it just as much as he does

abbacchio can’t stand white wine. he only likes red and occasionally rose but only on special occasions

fugo’s way of calming down is to bake stuff, i think his favorite to make would be lemon squares for some reason

talking about lemons, despite his name meaning orange, narancia has a skin allergy to citrus fruits. he can eat them but if the juice gets on his skin it will get broken out and all

burno’s love language is remembering his loves one favorite things and giving them gifts related to those out of the blue like its just another tuesday, he will also do the same on special occasions

burno definitely helps abba put his crown thing on everyday

trish, fugo, and giorno definitely have to force mista to have proper hygiene

not saying its bad but it probably only showers once-twice a week and only brushes his teeth when they feel yucky

abbacchio loves soap operas not those crime drama ones he hates those but those dramatic cheesy ones with evil twins and shit

bruno on the other hand loves crime drama ones especially the lifetime movie ones

mista and narancia FYCKING HATE modern day mtv

narancia is somehow the only one of all the men who does in fact use 3 in 1 shampoo

mista used to use 2 in 1 until giorno came along and stopped him

burno has whole skin care routine

narancia hates the smell of axe body spray

it’s really most fragrances but axe is the one he hates the most

mista thought axe body spray was a replacement for showering for awhile

so did abba when he was a cop but thats a whole another can of worms

narancia looks like the type to collect coins and bills from different countries

bruno knows how to make excellent home made pasta, he def learned it from his father

trish makes fugo go shopping with her because she can’t mista and giorno to go in public for something like that

fugo collects different types of bugs specifically butterflies and moths

trish is pompompurin girlie tell me im wrong

mista is the my melody person of the group

btw abba is badtz-maru, narancia is kuromi, bruno is hello kitty, fugo is cinnamoroll, and giorno is keroppi

i know risotto’s group is supposed to hate brunos but i just know abba and prosciutto are friends who got together every couple of mouths to play poker/cards

fugo favorite animal crossing character is marshall

don’t get me started on the other members of the gang favorites

mista, narancia, ans trish definitely would force the others to see the barbie movie

abba sneaks out to see oppenheimer-

nsfw (hopefully this is short)

abba definitely has a dick piercing (idk which one but he does)

mista wants one

mista has collerbone piercings tho

fugo would have a tongue

(why aren’t this nsfw bc abba with a piercing got thinking about the others)

abba definitely uses his stand to replay his partners orgasms

fugos stand has definitely come out/started appearing when he was horny once

if you know of my one piece blog i once talked about how law would definitely use his devil power during sex (he can remove limbs, hearts, switch bodies, and switch places with things with it) same goes to bruno

he’s used his stand power on his partner, unzip their head off and-

fugo is the type to fuck in a library, on multiple occasions

feel like all of them would be into food play

especially fugo and bruno

i know for fact that giorno has asked mista “is that gun in your pants or you happy to see me” and its 50/50 chance of mista having his gun in the front of his pants or not

WHY DOES GIORNO DO THIS I DON’T KNOW ???

i think the whole mista needs to have a weight on him to sleep is also a sexual thing too. I feel like he likes to have his partners on top him when doing the deed 🤷🏻‍♀️

*cough* fugo’s into bondage *cough*

do you think giorno can use his stand powers on cum?

bruno and abba have strong cucking/voyeur vibes. one likes watching the other fuck someonex but its not like bruno is into abba fucking someone, its both of them. both are into seeing the other fuck

hands down, abba is consenting head pusher. he will only push a persons head during a bj if they consent to it

all these mfs are consent kings/queen btw

fugo might be into cnc tho

why am I making fugo the kinkiest

narancia doesn’t get shit, i feel like he would be very asexual in my mind like he makes sexual jokes and all but hes not really into it and all

someone here is into wax play but I don’t know who- well we know fugo probably is but abba maybe

WHY AM I MAKING FUGO THE KINKIEST HES TRAUMATIZED NOT HORNY AH

mistas into biting and face sitting

also collars-

mista biggest no no is car sex because you know-

WAIT- no I think fugo would still be into library sex despite what happened

melone invited abba and bruno to a sex club once

also maybe a strip club

prosciutto and abba kept making bets on who would get fucked up the most, etc

guess who got fucked up the most

[snifflesthemouse]

WHY DOESN’T HARRY WANT HIS CHILDREN TO PAY FEALTY TO HIS FATHER, THE KING? WHY ARE THEY ‘PRINCE’ AND ‘PRINCESS’, BUT THEY DO NOT HAVE TO SWEAR AN OATH TO THEIR MONARCH?

Hello to all You Lovely Readers!

Before we begin, I just wanted to thank all of you for your love, support, and comments! I may not get the chance to reply to all of them, but I cherish every single one. Time is the most valuable resource, and readers are the most valued asset to a writer! This author has by far the BEST READERS!

Now, let’s begin with something that has been on my mind lately.

Why wouldn’t Harry and Meghan want their children to pay fealty to their grandfather, the King? I understand Meghan not doing it, as she is an American citizen and never became a dual citizen. But her children are, from my understanding. They want the children to use those monetary – oops, I meant hereditary- titles… but they don’t want them there? This tells me everything about this whole fiasco regarding the invitations.

People like Harry and Meghan can’t help themselves. There is absolutely no situation where a narcissistic psychopath (or sociopath) would pass up an opportunity like this… UNLESS they got something more valuable in return for staying home. Especially since it’s their “first child’s birthday” the same day.

The media suggests that Harry will be in and out and home by dinner. Then why go? He went because there was a trade-off most likely. Neither would ever desire the time away from one another for fear of weakening the control links. She let him go over there to try and face-to-face pressure him a couple weeks ago when he showed up for a court case he didn’t need to be there for. Her kids on the balcony was worth more to her than him potentially cheating on her with an ex or getting de-programmed.

ANY TIME a narcissistic psychopath or sociopath risks the deprogramming of their mark from an outside source, they either will benefit more from the risk, or they are making moves to move on.

The CDAN blinds suggest he spent an hour talking to an ex on another person’s phone. Why? They also suggest a half-in-half-out scenario where Harry will work alone as a half-timer for the Royal Family… I don’t buy that, and it would shock me. I’m not bashing CDAN, as I read them often. I am questioning the intel sources.

Here’s what everyone forgets. A narcissistic psychopath will believe in himself regardless. I appreciate some media personalities saying Meghan has a fear of being irrelevant, but that is not how these minds work. They have no fears or shame. They believe they are above it and everyone else is beneath them. They won’t cave like you think.

Meghan most likely wasn’t ever invited to the Coronation. The media suggests she refused the invite, but she’s only pushing that via PR to save face with the Sussex Squaddies. Remember, she keeps the Squaddies in the divorce. They are already talking mad crap about Harry right now. Everyone says a divorce will take a while, and it may. BUT…

People like Harry and Meghan are irrational thinkers who are inherently impulsive. We saw this with Megxit. They could’ve probably had their cake and eaten it, too, had they been patient with Her Majesty. But Her Majesty wasn’t afforded the luxury of compromise, was she?

The Royal Family has been planning these upcoming changes for a while now, and Harry could’ve been the perfect guinea pig to see how people would accept a half-in scenario for other working royals one day who may be children now. He could’ve been an asset, but the impulsivity ruined his chances. Not his wife. She just exacerbated them.

With Meghan now in California, she has an absolute zero chance of changing minds or whittling away at anything. Robert Johnson tells us that the Queen was so concerned about leaking because of Meghan and Harry, that she had the Sandringham library swept for bugs. Meghan couldn’t attend via Zoom because they didn’t trust the line. Charles and William made a pact to never speak to Harry alone.

DO YOU REALLY THINK THESE PEOPLE WILL EVER BE ALLOWED BACK INTO ANY PALACE TOGETHER? WITHOUT the Palace taking an offensive approach to stop leaks? They aren’t trusted. They aren’t wanted. I bet Harry agreed to go and she stayed in exchange for saving face because she was never really invited anyway, that the invite only extended to him either way.

So if that is true, why wouldn’t the King want his grandchildren to come with Harry? It would suggest that they either had no choice, or they knew something that would make that decision less hard to make (i.e. why invite a stranger with no blood ties to a wedding?) Yeah, they are too young to be apart of the TV nonsense and behavior plays a roll and all that. But for them to not come at all? His birthday would be the best day to see his grandfather.

It makes the rumors regarding Meghan photographing Catherine and William’s home (and children) seem even more true. Which brings me to this thought…

What if the whole ordeal of Megxit was a culmination of several events, with the straw-breaking moment being the pregnancy announcement? Think about it. We all know the oddities surrounding the pregnancy. Meghan probably planned to do it that way so she could sow an excuse out of the clues. She planned to create strife to excuse their presence so she could hide the truth in America. Claim racism, run to the US, and nobody is reminded of the oddities. That’s definitely one theory…

Or, they found them out and told them that they would be phased out if they didn’t take full responsibility. When they refused, they decided to try to get ahead of it all by launching that now-worthless website, Sussex Royal. The Royal Family will NEVER allow them to look compliant if there were shenanigans regarding those children. They’d be just as responsible.

Meghan let Harry go alone so she could start the next phase of her own plan. He’s probably double-crossing planning, too. They are two sides of the same coin. Harry could easily go back to his family and say, “Let’s throw her under the bus. Let me expose her for who she is. People already believe that she’s to blame. Let her be.” The Firm could work with that, for a way back for Harry alone. But…

I don’t believe these excuses they paint that Harry was lovestruck and besotted to stupidity. Yes, it is possible. I know firsthand, everyone. FIRST HAND. At the same time, people miss things because they excuse them. If we stop excusing Harry’s actions and start looking at them, we see his MO.

He cares more about destroying the Monarchy because he feels wronged. Remember, psychopathic/sociopathic narcissists don’t find fault or fear in anything regarding themselves. They aren’t scared of not being loved or in power because they assume it is already theirs. They assume everyone else is just slow to come around, and they just need to be shown the way, the truth.

If it sounds cultish, it is because it is. These two deserve each other, and they will only self-implode. Deepak Chopra already revealed that Harry and Meghan are struggling. Meghan has aligned herself with people that could care less about right or wrong if they see a way to monetize the drama or interest. These people want Harry, not her. But if he is not willing to play the role or walk back some of the statements made… they will ensure he is part of the problem instead of part of the victim gang.

EVERYTHING Meghan leaks to the US press is used to stage her next moves and plans. Awards stroke the ego and keep her in the press. Conflict keeps her in the press. Anything to keep her name on the lips of all of us.

If we really really wanted to end them, we’d abandon them both and never mention their names again. We would pick up on other noteworthy Royals and talk about them instead. They need us. Remember, the majority of the Squad are paid influencers. They get no money, they have no reason to stick around. Only the fanatic die-hards will stay put.

If I were Meghan, I would turn this into a phoenix rising moment. She has to stick to her guns and lies about the racism and drama, or she loses what little credibility she has left. She could catapult into stardom by taking a “stand” if she really wanted to convince people.

Sorry this is long and a little uneditied, as I am packing a suitcase in between thoughts. Don’t buy into this narrative that she refused the invite. Those chances are slim. Cons always work best in person. It takes skills she is lacking to be successful virtually. They are both lacking those skills, best believe that.

ALL OF THIS IS MY OWN OPINIONS AND SPECULATIVE BASED ON MY OWN EXPERIENCES. I’M NOT A PROFESSIONAL, AND I DON’T MIND IF YOU THINK I’M FULL OF IT. DON’T TAKE WHAT I SAY FOR GOSPEL. DON’T TAKE WHAT ANYONE SAYS FOR GOSPEL.

I love you all, and I will be writing again soon!

[shit-enmu-says]

Phantasmagoria: Chapter 8

CW for manipulation, unhealthy relationships, love bombing, blood/gore/death, and drug/alcohol use, neglect

Muzan (alias Shingetsu) continues his manipulation of Enmu and discovers another deeply buried secret. Meanwhile Enmu’s mental state deteriorates with each passing day.

It had been weeks since Enmu’s initial meeting with Shingetsu in the library. Since then, they met almost every night to the point he was scarcely home at all.

Shingetsu was a perplexing individual to say the least. In spite of his proclaimed fondness of Enmu, it seemed at times as if he wished to push him away. During the quiet hours of early morning, he’d pull Enmu close to him. Yet if Enmu got too comfortable, he made some excuse to get up or leave.

His demeanor could change in the blink of an eye. At times he was warm and engaging, speaking animatedly with him over anything from their research to their eventual escape. At others, he ignored Enmu entirely. It seemed this nothing he did, be it trying to engage him in conversation, taking better care of his appearance, or fetching him scroll after scroll from the endless shelves that lined the walls could get his attention.

Things had been that way for a couple of nights. Enmu stared down at his notes despondently. It brought him back to the days when he was young, doing anything he could think of to impress his Ayumu. Ayumu, who treated him at times as if he didn’t exist at all, particularly when he was younger. It seemed as if he only acknowledged Enmu’s presence to tell him off.

“Why does he ignore me all the time?” Enmu had asked his father on a rare day off, “He’s so cold to me. It’s like he hates me.” “Ayumu? Hate you? Nonsense,” his father had said, “He just doesn’t understand you. Sometimes I don’t understand you myself and that’s my own failing. Whatever inner demons you’re battling, it’s been hard on all of us, not just you.”

“You’ve been unusually quiet,” came a deep voice from behind him. Enmu turned around to see Shingetsu leaning over his shoulder. “How long have you been standing there?” Enmu asked, alarmed.

“Long enough. Something’s eating at you. Care to enlighten me or are you just going to stare at the ceiling all night?”

“So you see things that aren’t there?” Shingetsu asked, “That explains a lot.” Their notes lay forgotten on the other end of the table. A small cup filled with sake replaced the notebook Enmu had been holding.

He wasn’t sure why he agreed to this. He never cared much for alcohol. He disliked the taste of anything but plum wine and didn’t have much of a tolerance for the stuff. Still, it seemed impolite to decline Shingetsu’s offer.

Enmu knew he would regret this later. It was getting harder to think clearly already. He should really be more guarded around this man. Whatever they were, he didn’t know Shingetsu all that well. He felt compelled to open up to him but wasn’t sure why.

“Not just see,” Enmu said, rubbing his temples, “Sometimes I hear things. Or smell things.” “You smell things that aren’t there?” Shingetsu asked. “Sometimes,” Enmu mumbled, “Speaking of which have you seen any rats upstairs?”

“Rats? No. Why do you ask?”

“Sometimes when I go up to sweep the halls it smells like rotting flesh,” Enmu said, “I wondered if one had gotten trapped in the walls and died.”

Shingetsu stared at him. “No, I’ve never smelled anything of the sort,” he said, “Your cup’s empty. Let me pour you more.”

“Thank you, but I don’t think I can drink anymore,” Enmu said, putting his hand in front of the raised tokkuri. He didn’t have much of a tolerance for the stuff as it was. If he continued drinking he’d have a migraine tomorrow. He eyed Shingetsu, frowning slightly. There was a cup in his own hands. He’d brought it to his lips a few times but it didn’t seem any less full. Perhaps he wasn’t thinking clearly.

Shingetsu placed his hand over Enmu’s, pushing it down until it was flat against the table. “Please,” Shingetsu said as he filled his cup once more, “I insist.”

Enmu’s pulse quickened as a chill went down his spine. He shivered, staring up at Shingetsu wide eyed. He could have sworn for a moment that as Shingetsu’s lips parted in a smile that he saw fangs. Enmu glanced down at the ground. Blood was spattered all over the table, the floor, and all over him.

“You dozed off again,” Shingetsu said. Enmu gasped, blinking furiously as he downed the contents of his cup in one gulp. It burned going down, but the pain helped him regain his focus.

“Ah, sorry,” Enmu said, rubbing his eyes, “I suppose I’ve just been tired lately.” Whatever he’d seen moments ago was gone. Shingetsu looked perfectly normal now. There was no blood on him or anywhere else, just the warm, flickering glow of candle light. Comfortable, safe, and mundane.

“You seem to do that a lot,” Shingetsu said. “Do what?” “Pass out.”

“Oh…that,” Enmu said feebly, “That’s another problem I have. Sometimes I have dreams so vivid I can’t tell if they’re real or not.” “That must make for a very interesting life,” Shingetsu replied. “That’s not the word I’d use,” Enmu sighed, “It just makes everything more difficult.”

“Is that so?” Shingetsu said, leaning forward. “It’s gotten me into trouble,” Enmu said, “My family used to live in a bigger house before our clinic had so many competitors. We were wealthier in those days. I dreamed we still lived there and wandered in. Scared the family who lived there now half to death.”

Enmu leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly. The room was spinning. How could he possibly walk home in this condition? He had to go home this morning at least so Ayumu wouldn’t grow suspicious. “It’s caused other problems, too. Sometimes I’ll forget a patient’s appointment because I’ll dream I’ve already seen them.”

“It’s impressive you’re even able to work in this state,” Shingetsu said. “Ah, this is nothing,” Enmu replied, “Things aren’t nearly as bad as they used to be when I was younger.” To his surprise he found himself wishing for more sake. Perhaps one more cup would help purge those unpleasant images from his mind and allow him to sleep. Without even having to ask, Shingetsu poured him another cup.

“Thank you,” he said softly. “You don’t have to worry about me telling,” Shingetsu reassured him, “You seem to be holding this place together even with everything else going on.”

“Damn!” Shingetsu said, sitting up ramrod straight. He gathered his things, glancing around the room. “What’s the rush?” Enmu slurred, “I thought you were going to stay a while.”

“Can’t. Morning,” Shingetsu said as he buttoned his coat and put his hat on, “I have to leave now. I trust you’ll clean up down here.” “How can you tell it’s morning?” Enmu asked, swaying as he gripped the table’s edge to steady himself, “There aren’t any windows down here.”

Shingetsu’s back was to him. “I can feel it in my bones,” he said. “I’m sorry…what?” Enmu asked as he stumbled forward. “Never you mind,” Shingetsu said, as he made his way to the door.

As his pale hand gripped the door handle he glanced over his shoulder. “And Enmu?”

“Y-yes?” Enmu asked, face flushing. He wasn’t sure if it was the sake or the shock of Shingetsu calling him by his first name. To him he was always Doctor Tamio if he was addressed directly at all, nothing else.

“Don’t go upstairs today. Do you understand?”

[callmemana]

Arms Wide Open, Catch Me If I Fall:

Chapter 5: Home In The Sky

Word Count: 3k+

Dual POV story (Birdie & Bob {please message me if the POV switch isn’t detectable and I’ll figure out a way to show that its switched between the characters})

🚨Warnings: inaccurate Naval descriptions, angst and floof. Mentions of Depression, suicide, drunkards, abuse, and religious views. Please if you suffer from depression talk to someone. I’m always here if you need an ear! 💛

A/N: dividers by @sligheach-sidhe , cover by me ( @callmemana ).

A/N 2: This is very personal to me and something that my family has gone through. I know that not very many people have the support system I had growing up and had people to talk to about the importance of mental health. It’s not something to joke about or not take seriously.

A/N 3: this is part 1 of 2, the next chapter will be a continuation. 💛 check out LP for more info on ‘Katie’!

It had been a couple of weeks and Amanda had finally settled into the Dagger Squad and San Diego and met the rest of the ‘Chaos Squad’ and the Daggers’ Aviator Mamas, Rachael Dragon Kazansky and Jade Whiskey Kerner.

Birdie met Whiskey when one day after Bird had just got home from walking Ozzy. Mickey and Baylie forgot that they had a guest and were being loud in the bedroom.

She didn’t stay long after the loud moans could be heard around the house.

So, with wanting to get away and let the newly-weds have their alonetime Bird went to the library. She was in the romance books when she literally ran into Commander Jade Whiskey Kerner.

“I’m so sorry Commander, I didn’t mean to run into you.” she rushed as she moved aside.

The older woman just laughed and they both sat down together and talked for hours until Bay called and asked where she’d gone.

Bird had gotten to know the other squad members and formed a good bond with all of them. Bo and her started to mend the relationship slowly but surely.

We were laughing and joking every once in a while and Bird started to call him Bo instead of Robert again here and there, which she could tell made his smile wider if possible.

She wanted to be able to trust him full-heartily, but he betrayed that in Lemoore and it would take work and effort on both sides to see this be mended to what it was.

Bird was willing and she could tell he was too, but how long will it last before he loses his temper or decides that he can’t go through it again.

They were on a team now and from what she’s been told, Bay and Mickey were on the Uranium mission and are better than ever, so why did he push her away?

Robert and her could be half way done with the wedding planning by now, she could’ve sent the ‘Save The Date’ cards to their families and friends and she’d have her dress already.

She’d have a dress, a wedding dress that would take his breath away and make him cry from Birdie’s beauty and her father would walk her down the aisle, tears in his eyes as he gives his only daughter to the man she loved.

Hailey and Heather would be Maid of Honor and a Bride’s Maid, standing by her side as Bo and her said their vows and exchanged rings.

Bird had this imagine in her mind since she said “Yes!” all those months ago when everything was happy and great.  

After the first week of being in the Dagger Squad and already tired of Hangman and Rooster’s constant bitching and competitiveness, Birdie went to the closest Walmart and bought a Disney Princess kids’ dress up set.

The next day, Birdie went onto base and put the tiara in her locker and as soon as either of the boys started to bitch about who was the best of the group.

She asked for them to wait as she grabbed it and hid the plastic crown behind her back as she walked back in.

When she revealed the tiara, everyone was confused, but the looks on their faces quickly turned into smiles and laughter as Bird placed it on Roos’ head and said, “You have been crowned the Bitch of the Day. As you see fit My Majesty.” and bowed.  

All the aviators, except Bob, took turns slamming their hands and fists onto the top of her helmet.

Most of them were nice, but Baylie was the most ruthless, always making sure that Birdie could feel the vibrations through the helmet.

Birdie new that once Bo got comfortable again, he’d be the nicest one, but until then, Mickey was.

Fanboy saw her as a little sister and always made sure that Bird was treated nicely when he was around.

After a month of being a guest in the Garcia’s house, seeing, learning, and hearing things that new friends shouldn’t, Birdie had put in a request for a on-base house and is currently waiting for an opening.

She had been to the Hard Deck and met Penny, Amelia, and Grace, but preferred to be called her honorary callsign; Spicy.

The girls of the Dagger Squad, Grace and Alana, and Rachael and Jade became a squad of their own, known around the base and off as the Chaos Squad.

This little grouping of chaotic women didn’t help Bird’s nonexistent relationship with Cyclone, especially after meeting with his wife, Robyn Venom Simpson.

She also had been introduced to Roos’ step-mother, Grace O’Mally Bradshaw. Both women were lovely and so much fun to be around.

Birdie didn’t want the six months to go by too quickly so she had enough time to really get to know the group and form a tight friendship with each of them.

She was going to be sad when the time period was up and she was deployed to another base, but this is what she signed up for years ago.

Bird just wanted to mend one relationship when she first arrived and now was lucky enough to walk away with more friendships than she though she would.

She also would walk away with a family. A father and mother, aunt and uncle, sisters and brothers that will always be in her life no matter what.

Even if Bo and her don't bury the hatchet, the others have told her so many times when she’d voiced her concern over the subject.

Ozzy was happier too, he had more people to love and care for him now and was loving every bit of attention that the others were giving him.

It had been more than once that Ozzy had kicked Mickey out of the bed so he could snuggle Baylie.

Bird knew when Ozzy was with Bay when Mickey is getting comfy on the couch, she’d always offer to get Oz and he could be with his wife.

He always waved her off and said that Bay’s been wanting a dog for a while and if this is keeping her mind off of one for them, he’d happily give up his bed.

We were also briefed on another upcoming mission and the team started training and had been doing good.

There was more time to complete the training this time too, which Birdie was thankful for, she’d just joined the squad.

It was crazy to think that these few weeks together had felt like a lifetime already and Bird wouldn’t change anything if it meant that she’d never met them.

Don’t get her wrong, Bird was beyond sad when Bo broke her heart, but it kinda feels worth it now.

Because without that lost, she wouldn’t have gained a family, a very chaotic family, but one none the less.

Bird felt as if she was home. Bo helped with that, he had been her home for four years prior and Bird couldn’t stop thinking as him as that.

Robert Floyd has had her heart since that day on the trail for training in bootcamp and he gave Birdie that rock after telling her that he would keep the little mushroom she had picked just for him.

Bird knows that it's stupid to say that was the moment he took her heart, over a silly little thing as a mushroom, but it was.

Bo took the little fungus and while others would’ve thrown it over their shoulders when I wasn’t looking, he kept it, and later in the recreational room, he gifted me a rock.

Even if he didn’t realize it, he spoke my love language, sentimental gifts that make no sense to anyone else but us.

I was grateful to have a friend that finally understood me and embraced my quirks.

Not that Athena didn’t, she did, but she got tired of it sometimes.

Bird doesn’t blame her though, having a neurodivergent friend can be exhausting when they have hyper-activity and can’t focus on anything and everything most days.

Bo took the randomness of me as if it was an exciting adventure and had the patience of a Saint to wait for me when it was harder to keep on tasks.

He was considerate when I said I was overwhelmed and noticed the signs when I was too scared of ruining his night by leaving early.

Bo never got upset or argued, he’d just say an excuse for us to leave and then we’re in his car and going home.

Bird’s family never really got why she had a harder time on some of the subjects at school, but after a teacher had spotted the symptoms of Attention Deficit Disorder or ADD, she recomended that Birdie gets tested.

When the results came back positive and they started her on some medication to help, her grades went up and she was focusing better on tasks, but her family still sometimes treated her as before.

The family she had in San Diego though, they understood and also took the time to help her, just like they do for Mouse.

The squads watch for certain behaviors and try to soothe the others’ emotions.

Just like when Roos noticed Bird was nervous and overwhelmed before flying on her first day back at Top Gun and knew that she needed to do a pre-flight ritual.

He was there for Bird even if he didn’t know exactly what she needed.

Amanda finally found a group of friends that understand and are willing to help and she couldn’t be more thankful for them.

Not that she’d let Hangman know that she’s appreciative of him, his egos big enough.

It had been a month in San Diego when Bird got the phone call from her mother that a friend back home had died, she immediately drew back from the squad.

Baylie and Mickey saw the happy-go-lucky woman turn distant and quiet in the matter of seconds. Bird didn’t waste any time in running to her room and bursting into tears.

They had known each other since they were children. The two women were cousins, best friends, and practically inseparable. Bird had known about Hailey’s depression for years.

No one really took her seriously when she’d lay in bed for days, no energy or motivation to get up and eat and take care of herself.

But Bird did, she took the mental health of others very seriously. As did her parents, especially after what her mother experienced at eighteen.

Jackson, her grandfather, was something that the Wheeler side of the family didn’t talk about and when they did, it wasn’t a lot.

They saw him as a disgrace, for suicide is the highest Sin that one could commit in they eyes of God.

The Wheeler family might not always be the most religious but they do follow His word. From the brief stories that her mother told, Jackson was a mean alcoholic. Everyday he’d drink until he was good and drunk.

That’s how he coped with being depressed, but it was the early 80’s and not a lot of people sought out for help, they turned to drink or drugs or whatever tickled their fancy.  

Bird will never forget the day that her mother had pulled out that damned bullwhip from her Hope Chest and told all three of her children the story of it.

Then after the story was done, Kathleen Hallet took in her children’s faces and said, “If you ever feel like you’re not yourself, please tell your dad or me ok?”

All the siblings nodded their heads as Kathleen tried to make sure they understood what she was talking about. And even as the children grew, Nick and Kat reminded them and gave more encouragement to talk to them if needed.

Birdie was 8 when she was first introduced to her grandfather’s memory and every blue moon she’d learn something new.

She was 17 when she learned that Jackson was his name, had a fraternal twin brother named John, that he liked Lions, and was fortunate enough to be given his old wool jacket and a small lion figurine.

Bird was 20 when she was told that Mamaw and Papaw Wheeler owned a bar and he and his buddies would stay there and drink all day playing cards.

The Hallet siblings might not have had a maternal grandfather, but they did have a maternal great grandpa.

He was a big part of their childhood, he taught all of them life lessons and other important things as they grew.

Birdie was the closest to both her Mamaw and Grandpa Wheeler, always watching old westerns and doing puzzles with them.

It broke her heart when her Great Grandfather died at the age of 96.

The hardest part being that she was in boot camp and couldn’t be excused to attend. Bo was her biggest shoulder to cry on and stayed with her until she wasn’t grieving as much. Heather and Phillip were there for her too when Bo couldn’t.

She didn’t know if she could go through the same thing again, but this time would be different, with someone she actually knew and saw and loved and grew up together.

Hailey was someone that Bird never thought that she’d have to out-live, with her being in the Navy, her life was constantly in danger.

It was beyond hard for her to think of a world where Hailey wasn’t just one phone call away if Bird had a bad day and needed her best friend to talk to or vice versa.

She’d never hear her voice again, never feel her warmth from a hug. What if Bird forgets Hailey’s voice or laugh? What if she hears a song or smell or memory that reminds her of Hailey and starts to cry?

Bird for weeks would just do nothing but lay in her bed after work, sobbing and cuddling Ozzy until she had cried herself to sleep.

This worried Bay and Mickey, they had no idea what had happened in that phone call and started to fret over their friend’s health.

Mickey begged Bay to let him call Bob, he’d most likely be able to get her to open the door and talk, but Bay would shake her head and take Ozzy for his evening walk.

Every member of the squads came to the Garcia’s shack, talking through the wooden door as they sat on the ground.

Bay and Mickey talked to her the most, about what they did after work, how Ozzy did that day if he wasn’t in her room, and how much they miss seeing her bright and shiny smile.

What they didn’t know, was the hurt she felt in hearing them plead with her to come out. She just didn’t want to smile or do anything knowing that her best friend was gone.

Everything felt numb, lungs heavy and crushed, her friends’ voices sounded as if she was underwater. And all she wanted to do was breathe.

“Hey Angel,” he started breathlessly and searching for the right words, “I know. I got a text from your Ma, she’s worried about you. I am too, you’ve never been like this.”

There was a soft thud on the door where he put his forehead, “You’re the most happiest girl I know and I hate to see you like this. Hailey had been battling with her depression for years and I know that you did everything you could to help her, and you did, help her I mean. It might not seem like it right now, but…”

A long breath escaped his lungs, “You did what you were supposed to do, you were there for her when she needed you most and made sure she knew that you would listen to anything and everything she wanted to say.”

“Then why does it feel like I did nothing,” she whispered, voice scratchy from disuse as Bird laid her forehead against the door where she thought his was.

“Because you think you could’ve done more, could’ve saved her. Angel, babe, without you she probably would’ve lost that battle sooner than later. You showed her that you cared, that she mattered, that she had someone in her corner when it felt like no one else was.”

Birdie sniffled and took her head off of the door and for a minute or two it was completely silent.

“If I open this door, I just want you and Ozzy to come inside. I’m overwhelmed and need my boys. I’ll talk to the squads and Mama and Papa later.”

“If that's what you want Angel, I’ll go get Oz now.”

“Yes please.”

It took a few minutes for Bo to come back, but once he did, he knocked on the door with Ozzy right beside him.

“Thank you Robert.”

“For you, I’d do anything.” and a happy bark followed after by the fur baby sitting on her bed.

All the members of the squads came over and talked to her through the closed door, all except for Bob.

He didn’t think that he’d have the right to comfort her right now, but after a text message from Birdie’s mama, he quickly understood what he had to do.

“Robert, please tell us our baby is okay?” “Mana’s not doin’ so good. What happened?” “Hailey.”

That one name and Bob knew, how couldn’t he. Robert didn’t tell the others, they had other worries and commitments to attend to.

He had kept it secret for a few days before Bay had finally had enough and cornered him in the hallway. “Robert James Floyd, I know that you know what’s up with Birdie, spill.”

“I can’t, it’s personal.”

“If it’s personal, then we should know so we can help!”

“That’s not how this works ok? You can’t just demand to know what everyone’s going through when it’s not your business, so butt out Baylie.”

Bo pushed through her and continued his way to the hangers where the others were, leaving Lucky stunned and slacked jawed by the balls he showed for calling her out as she stood in the empty hallway.

Maybe it was time that the real Robert showed his face and met the squad, but he’ll save that for another day. His Birdie needs him.

He came over to the Garcia’s little cottage after work and as Hangman walked out of the hallway where Bird’s room was, Bo pushed his way to the guest room.

Robert sat on the floor in silence for a minute or two, trying to come up with a plan to talk to her before he shook his head and started.

He knew that the squads were just down the hall and could listen in anytime they wanted, and would, because Birdie was family now.

Bo kept his voice just above a whisper and forehead glued to the sturdy wood door that was between them. Every answer he gave was unclear to anyone but the two.

The conversation went on for a while before he came back into the livingroom and stopped right in front of Ozzy.  

“Hey Buddy, you miss me?” Bo chirps as he pets Ozzy’s head. Ozzy in return gives him some kisses, making Bo laugh.

“Yeah, I missed you too. Wanna go see your mama, she needs cuddles from her boys.”

Ozzy stretches as he gets up off of the couch and then jumps off and races towards Birdie’s bedroom door. Bo starts to get back up from kneeling position but is stopped by Baylie.

“She lost someone close to her, didn’t she?” Lucky had tears in her eyes at seeing her friend’s pain, just like she felt all those years ago when she lost her childhood friend Katie.

Bo didn’t answer, just nodded and before he turned into the hall, “I hope it’s okay if I stay the night. I don’t wanna leave her alone if I can.”

Bay nodded, “Stay as long as it takes to make Birdie happy again, if she needs anyone to talk to, tell her I’m here and I know her pain right now.”

Robert offered a small smile and continued to Bird’s room, once there Ozzy let out a happy bark as Bob opened the door and Oz jumped onto the bed and curled up next to his Mama’s torso.

Bo laid down next to her aswell, brushing away the new tears before they could fall. “I’ll be with you til the end of the line, Angel.”

she snuggled up to him and put her head on his chest, right above his heart so she could hear the beat and Bo ran his fingers through her knotted hair to calm her down.

Birdie’s Basket: @dragon-kazansky @mrsjaderogers @bayisdying @starlit-epiphany @gracespicybradshaw

🏷️ list: @luckyladycreator2 @interstellarloneliness

[a-new-oasis]

From Tamara Fleming's Simtube Video: 'Raising Teenage Boys'

For many mommas intending to raise Watcherly children, the thorn in their side, their test is the teenage stage. Here is where the Watcher tests us all! These kids are growing up, they want to be independent, they want to do all the things the secular media has told them are "cool".

I remember I was a pain for my mother, fiercely rebellious and foolish girl I was. I wanted to cut my hair short, wear makeup and stilettos going on about how I'm equal to men! It's harder with teenage boys, who are some of the most vulnerable to sin in their youths.

So how can you raise teen boys?

Training them up for Adulthood

One of my favourite verses has always been Proverbs 22:6 - Train up a child in the way he should go, And when he is old he will not depart from it. I often come back to now as a momma of seven children. It is important at any age, crucial as our boys become men.

My standards for my boys is to be good, watcher-honouring men now so they can be good husbands and fathers. In your teenage years, what you are taught sticks, as I know. So, me and Xavier are training up Asher, and getting Benji ready for their adulthood.

Since I homeschool my children, it is easier than those who are reliant on the system. After all, it is hard to block your ears with all the time and still graduate! But nonetheless, Asher spends his time wildly. As much as the secularists would say our religious education is worthless, he learns more they do with their gender junk!

He helps out with Sunday School, supports our veterans and our unborn brothers in the Watcher. Since my husband's workplace put its faith in the Watcher's plan, he also helps out a couple days a week.

I know, already, I will get some comments about how teaching is a feminine job. I see you people. The holy men taught. A pastor teaches his flock. Teaching in the ministry of the Watcher is masculine! Plus, Asher will be a dad one day I hope, he must provide and occasionally providing as a father does mean teaching your sons and daughters in His way!

Hobbies

You might say, "woah, Tam, you pack your son busy with work". You're right! He's a busy young man. But if you work hard, you deserve to have hobbies. Watcher-honouring hobbies.

He goes to the library a lot. His current favourite is Russian Classic literature, specifically Dostoevsky. Not to mention the Bible! I think my sister has a rival for highlighting. He also works out, Xavier encourages him to take to weightlifting, but he's more interesting in climbing wall! One day, he wants to go Mt. Komerobi, maybe even take the gospel with him.

I still make him do his school work, don't fret! He has a knack for numbers like I did in my youth in between all the feminist garbage I was spoonfed.

Standards

I mentioned before about standards. *cheesy rewind effect* My standards for my boys is to be good, watcher-honouring men now so they can be good husbands and fathers. In order to train them up well in the way of Proverbs and Ephesians, there must be standards like good, Watcherly Moses!

For my sons that means:

No grave sins - no sex, no drugs, no rock'n'roll.

Honour and obey their parents. If Xavier says no. It's a no, that's the law of the land.

Must earnestly pray and surrender their hearts to the Lord

Must attend church every Wednesday and Sunday. In proper, modest attire. No shorts in the house of the Watcher!

Champion being a courteous, amiable person, especially to those struggling with the Watcher. And those less fortunate - the old, the poor, women and youngling.

Devote themselves to the Gospel and its command of evangelism

Media Access

Now, I know some people would call me "extreme" but one place where I'd probably get flack from my colleagues, even within my own church here in Oasis Springs - media access.

I allow Asher to use our home computer for whatever. Schoolwork, writing for our newsletter, spreading the word. He's also allowed his own phone since the Watcher has blessed us with abundance in this season of life. There's two catches there before anyone accuses me of leaving my baby so exposed to sin!

Passwords, give them to me! If he signs up to any website, I get the password just to check for anything sinful. I also check his phone semi-regularly (though he doesn't know when) for the same reason! Teenagers are sneaky - I was one.

Xavier discovered this software called Custodian, it monitors any web access and blocks anything too illicit. He and Asher are accountability buddies. My husband says that's his domain and of course I defer.

[all-the-words-necessary]



Ok, fuck it, lady Chatterley's lover au Steve comes back from the front not quite as he went off. He's got a new wife waiting for him and a huge old manor home that is now his own. Everything would be fine, great even, if it wasn't for his fucking legs not working. The doctor said he was lucky to be alive, but, Steve thinks waspishly, not so lucky that he's not practically paralyzed from the waist down. Nancy is taking it in stride, still bright eyed and hopeful for the future they both wanted when they said 'i do'. Right before he was shipped off. 

He loves her for it, but at the same time every kind smile and gesture from her makes him feel like he's swallowing glass. It hurts because Steve knows there is no way he can keep those promises he sees shining through in her eyes. 

When they reach the old manor home the cracks start to show up right away.

"Steve, Let's take in the air!" she says, bouncing out of the car. The trip had taken five hours to get out to the country, the car stopping in front of the old imposing manor looming in front of them. He can see her stretching, reaching up to the clear blue sky as her curls shine in the sun. It takes him longer to get out of the car needing Nancy, and a servant that quickly hurries out of the house, to lower him into his wheelchair. 

It quickly becomes apparent that, despite its recommendations for being top of the line, the wheelchair can barely manage the gravel drive in front of the house, much less the wooded path Nancy is not so covertly eyeing. 

"It's fine," Steve says, catching her eye and giving a smile, "I wanted to check out the house first. Go on ahead and tell me what you find when you come back."

And so he's wheeled into the massive family manor, the doors closing behind him with an air of finality that sinks deep into the pit of his stomach. 

He remembers this manor. Knows it well from his childhood, every floorboard and every window reminds him of his recently passed father. He thinks, idly, of taking a sledgehammer and smashing the foundation so thoroughly that no one would ever know a house once stood here.

"Would you like anything else, sir?" The servant says, after he's wheeled to the library.

Steve gives a polite smile and waves him off, turning so he faces the window. It's where Nancy finds him when she gets back. 

~NANCY AND STEVE DRIFT FURTHER APART, WORKERS ARE HIRED FOR THE MANOR, STEVE FINALLY SAYS 'FUCK IT, IM TAKING THIS WHEELCHAIR OFF ROAD'.~

It had, he thought, seemed like a good idea at the time. 

He ordered the new chair weeks ago, planning to surprise Nancy by joining her on one of her walks. When it had finally arrived, she had been out of the country visiting her family, and a test run really didn't seem like the worst idea. 

He just hadn't accounted for the mud. 

So here he was, about three kilometers from the house, stuck on a path in the middle of a muddy field. 

"This stupid piece of, fucking, bullshit, motorized my ass…" he slams his fist down on the armrest of the chair in frustration, hearing a satisfying crack. 

"Everything alright over there?" 

Steve jumps, whipping his head over to the man walking up the bottom of the path. His voice is rough, from the village obviously, but he looks familiar. 

Heat prickles up his face as the man gets closer and he hates this. He knows just how he's going to see him. Helpless. Stuck in the mud. A burden. 

"I'm fine, thanks." He says, pasting a smile to his face. He hopes it conveys the message that he loves this. Being stuck in mud is his passion. Prehaps then the man will leave him alone and he can go back to sulking.

The man stops next to him, his brown curly hair under his cap a bit longer than it should be. It frames his wide brown eyes, currently looking at him like he's full of shit. 

It's then that he makes the connection

"You're the new gardener, aren't you?" He thinks back to a couple of weeks ago, when the house had been filled with those seeking employment. "Mr. Munson, was it?"

"Aye, sir. You've got a good memory," he crouches down next to Steve as he says it, fiddling with the back of his wheelchair.

"It also looks like you've got a busted engine." 

 "It's new," Steve sniffs, "it's engine is supposed to help with out-of-doors travel." because it's not his fault, and he didn't ask for help, and he probably would have figured it out on his own. Probably. 

"Can I take a look?" He asks, probably a bit too late Steve thinks, uncharitably. He inclines his head regally and looks off towards the edge of the trees. If he squints hard enough, he thinks, he can maybe pretend none of this is happening.

There is a minute of silence, maybe two, before Munson says,

"Y'know, when I was younger I hated reading. Hated it." 

It's such a non sequitur that Steve turns blindly back towards him. 

He's still hunched over the engine in the back of the chair, hands fiddling with god knows what, not really looking at Steve.

"I had such trouble with the words all blurring together, I never wanted to do it. It was embarrassing." He's gesturing wildly as he talks. Steve doesn't think he even realizes he's doing it and he finds himself relaxing in his chair for the first time since the trouble with the mud started.  

 "My uncle found out from a teacher who, well, probably thought I was hopeless. He came over that very night. Started reading books to me, no pressure or judgement whatsoever- ah here's the bugger." He pulls a small piece of machinery from the back of Steve's chair with a showmanship he wouldn't have expected from a gardener. 

"Sorry for the language, sir." he says with a cheeky smile, implying that he's maybe not that sorry at all. 

It's an astounding bit a familiarity that Steve knows he should put a stop to. He knows his father would. There's just something about the man that makes him…pause. Possibly brain damage from the war, he thinks, somewhat hysterically. 

"Anyways, long story short, I started to want to read as well, and when I did, he helped me with that too. Took ages, but that man never faltered once. Sometimes now I even read for fun."

He holds out the busted piece of machinery for Steve to take, his hands dirty from the engine and mud. When Steve takes the part he can feel how rough and calloused the pads of Munson's fingers are, a direct clash to his own.

He clenches the small piece of machinery firmly in his lap, the grooves imprinting on his palm like a vulger tattoo. 

It's then that Munson looks directly into Steve's eyes.

"It's okay to ask for help sometimes." 

There are a lot of different responses Steve knows he could have to this. He's affible and popular, knows how to work his way around a conversation. He could be cold and direct making sure this "Mr. Munson" remembers his place, or he could make a pithy joke at his own expense, have them both laugh off the entire exchange. 

He hears cicadas in the distance, Munson's honesty still hanging raw in the air between them. In the end, he decides the man's truth deserves his own in reply.

"I don't want to be a burden." He says quietly.

The words hang between them for a moment. 

"Well, excuse me, sir if I'm being impolite, but I don't think I was one at eleven and I don't think you are now." His voice is strong and steady, the words feeling as set in stone as if they were given to Moses himself.

Munson then slides up to standing, clapping his big hands together.

"Now, I know you could get out of the mud yourself, but you seem like a busy man and your engine wont work until you order a new replacement part. What say I get you out of this patch here and you can roll on back to the house."

Steve looks up at him. He cuts a clean figure with his waistcoat half unbuttoned, arms crossed with his sleeves rolled up to his forearms, to account for the heat. His fingers idely tap out a nonsensical beat as he waits for Steve's reply.

He realizes Munson is right. Steve could do it himself, but that wasn't the point. He didn't have to.

"Ok, but just with the mud" he replies, grinning.

[electrospherevaults]

Defiler - Chapter 0

[Click here to read the rest of the Defiler story]

The Barrens, One Last Time

In the olden days, it was said that the Astrid Republic boasted a membership of four hundred and thirteen star systems. An endless expanse from one arm of the galaxy to the other; an empire that claimed itself to be humane, kind and resourceful. It was in the name after all – how can an empire be a bad thing once it has taken the mantle of calling itself a republic?

…They were lies, of course. Damned lies, the lot of them, but they made for a nice story.

And, if anything, He loved his tales.

He bestowed that knowledge onto me. I am living with this memory now, one amidst many – too many, if you ask me. I watched His carcass burn upon impact. I watched the crater where he lied expand, creating rifts in His wake, and cracks which the sands have yet to fill. The Fallen Gorge; that’s what I’ve heard people call it. Quite a silly name, but I hear it’s catching on with its intended audience, so I won’t be complaining. Tabora is my planet and my home, and it is still whole, bearing just one more scar of one more battle it never sought to fight; of one more battle it never knew it was fighting; and of one more battle it never (and would never) agree into fighting.

But a home is a home, and it still stands, wrinkles, cracks, stains and all.

What more can you ask for at the end of the day, on a home where the sun never sets?

To see the stars?

I mean, duh!

Somehow this desire still lives. I do not know whether it is something within me, or within Him, that keeps this flame alive. Nevertheless, Zysso put a good word out for me; he is the inheritor of an empire now, one he is coming to terms with accepting and commanding. We attended his father’s funeral back in Y’Trage. For as sombre as it was, I could not help myself; a promise that was uttered only in death was kept.

We did fly together in the end after all.

It is weird to have friends in high places. Weird to have friends that died in your arms a lifetime ago now hug you tightly. Friends that should have stayed dead exclaiming hopes for the future. I did manage to save them all. “All” is probably doing some heavy lifting – Zysso’s dad is still dead, Jean-Michel du Rembrandt and the King are both gone. But I saved my friends, and my family, and my planet. No easy task for a ratlung that’s yet to learn how to fly, if you ask me.

How long has it been now? Months? Weeks? Maybe just a couple days, but it can’t have been that little. I know I slept as much though, that much is true; mom will still tease me fondly whenever I’m late in waking up. The haziness of time remains, and yet I can recall and recreate every single detail in pristine perfection, as if my mind committed my memories to film, taking snapshots at everything and anything that occurred, to document it all in a library existing entirely within me. Memories both mine and His.

He longed to return back home. To meet with His brethren, to fulfil His higher purpose – a purpose I found to seek new homes for His people, to populate them, to let them thrive so that the astrids could live long and prosper longer. A galactic embrace, so as they say.

The Astrid Republic died seventy-eight years ago. Wait, no, it died seventy-eight years ago! The Astrid Republic died seven- ugh.

Well, I know the truth. The exact date lists it so much longer ago, but something within me will not let me say it out loud, or type it down. It is a memory I share that is locked, and I am afraid to discover what other memories I will retain for myself alone. The home He was seeking was long gone; even if He escaped, what my mind assumes is that He would simply roam back to his birthplace, find the maps corrupted, the planet lost, and thus prompted to wander towards a random planet as per protocol. Rinse and repeat until home was found again.

I am not aware if this is a fault in how the Maker was made, or if this is something He Himself came up with to cope with His existence having no longer a purpose to serve.

Of course, He did have a purpose to serve – to us, the planet and the creatures He raised.

But gods like Him don’t concern themselves with squishy bugs I hazard.

Nevertheless, Tabora stands when the astrids do not. So do His memories. So do mine. Each one recorded clearly and perfectly, and recalled without hesitation. And I can feel that happening every waking moment now. I call Friga and she tells me all about the wild trips she had out in the desert. She mixes and pieces together different events from other days she lived, events she likely forgot she had already told me a prior time, and I recognize those pieces; I still have not found it apt to call them out, her excitement is too cute to reel back in. She tells me of Jaksy, of her mom, of Jaksy’s mom – their names Belit and Kruga respectively – of how she and Jaksy are planning on coming to the Strip, of how we should go out for drinks. I recall the night she threw up after just two beers and I wince, then I tell her how great an idea it will be and how I will wait them with the next caravan to arrive. Their caravan will be arriving back from the trip to the Maker in fact today, after a gruesome week of travelling. The defilers, who once sought to connect with Him through his body, now only find his bones bleached naked by the sun He stopped in time. I have not asked Jaksy yet how she feels about our dearly departed Maker, but whenever I see Friga light up on the subject of the new pilgrimages, Jaksy extinguishes. Out of courtesy, I try to change the subject.

It is weird to know He is dead and does not speak anymore. Weirder still to find a way to explain to your friends the extent of how He defined our lives in ways that were much more reaching and controlling than any of us, even the most fervently religious among us, believed to know. He was a weaver, a storyteller, and He had his rules. Once you defied these rules, these rules of the narrative that was written, these rules the living had to follow, it became messy.

I wonder still what repercussions I will face for saving my friends from the fate He planned for them. And I don’t know if I will have the guts to tell him of how he died once in my arms next time we meet; a meetup that also is coming next week. He did say he wanted to accompany me to the next academy exams after all. I was like “Zysso, are you crazy? It is so expensive!” and he responded with a mere “Well, I do own an entire fleet now.”

Like I said, it’s weird to have friends in high places.

Beneficial too; I hope I can make it this time. If they cut me, I’ll just turn up to the officer, say “Hey I saved your asses back then, give me a break!” and hopefully that’ll be enough! Otherwise, Zysso has the money too. I recall drinking wine back on the ship to Tabora, him asking me if I would still like to be a cosmonaut. I just stared out of the window, sometimes looking at him through the reflection, but mostly just staring out towards the stars. I feel that answered his question handsomely. I would not hesitate to ask him to help me, I think.

But Mom says I shouldn’t. She is right – but also, don’t I deserve a little break? A treat even?

Heh, maybe I am beginning to sound like him more and more. I should tackle it on merit.

I’m sure the Maker will smile on me when the moment comes, bleached bones and all.

I don’t know why I am writing any of this today. I never managed to keep much of a diary, buying journals and leaving them half unfinished after the first couple of pages. It feels different today. Maybe it was not just the desire to ascend that I inherited from Him; maybe the weaving of tales, of real fantasies and fantastical stories, and the need to will them into existence through my own narration is another. I don’t think I possess the power to bend time and space like He did. No, I do not believe I do – He did say the powers He bestowed began with Him and ended with Him. But I cannot say I do not believe I don’t either. It is silly, I know, and not something worth pondering about, yet I lie awake on my bed and reach out for the stars on my ceiling, harking back to the star I reached once upon a time that Zysso pointed out for me.

Not my Zysso of course, His Zysso; the one in the dream that now seems like lifetimes both ago and far ahead. I still remember the feeling of touching a burning ball of fire that glows in the embrace of the darkness of space, only for it to sparkle on my hand, tiny and puny and nothing. Just a pretty little thing, a pretty little thing that attracts planets that host creatures that live lives full of joy and pain from their births to their demises.

I dream about that a lot.

Then I wake up, go to the kitchen, and have some blue milk.

This is another thing that haunts me. I still wonder what He had put into the milk He had fixed for me. I still ponder if I would be here now, looking back at my mom preparing eggs for breakfast inside our kitchen, humming the same tune she cooked up decades ago, when granny Jasmin first taught her how to master the fire and the pan. The crack that runs along the window meanwhile is new, created from the day He fell back. On particularly windy days, sand blows inside; momma has me clean it up near immediately, even if we know not but five minutes later more dust will swoop in because we got a damn hole in the wall of our home.

Maker bless her heart. You failed to kill her, and now she is killing me, and I could not have been happier.

I cried so much the moment I returned home back to the surface and back to our home. We embraced for so long until I fell asleep in her arms, hearing her reassuringly call my name. My real name. I am Mallik. Daughter of Zenit, daughter of Jasmin the Defiant. The Mallik of Tabora. The name I embraced.

Once I woke up again later, I told momma everything. Of the Maker, of His dreams, of granny Jasmin and how He used her to speak to me. Of how we got inside Him, of how He took me away, of how He awakened.

And then, of how I was able to save everyone. To go back, to slip before he knew of the control I exalted, to help in the ambush he put up for us. Lionelli and Amateracci were not meant to survive originally. Instead, He wounded them heavily, to drive the impact further of what devotion allowed you to suffer through.

They are both fine now, to my knowledge. Sadly, neither of them have reached out to me since our bidding goodbye to each other back on the planet’s surface. Lionelli, I think, was the most hurt that I did not decide to join them; I only told her to embrace Analussa the way she really wanted. She turned red, and not because of the sun, whilst Amateracci only laughed, confirming her suspicions. I do not know if they discussed it further, or if Lionelli still hides it. I am no god after all; only a ratlung.

And this ratlung saved her friends. I stopped the being that was to hurt Amateracci, the one that Zysso dived in front of to take the hit instead. Zysso saved me back, firing his weapon on another being that was never meant to be there originally. And, together, we stopped three more of them that lunged towards Jaksy and Friga, collapsing them into pure mirror shards. I never expected Friga to be this good at fighting.

And once we were done, I led them to the escape bay. We unlocked the same shuttle, the one the Maker had prepared for just Lionelli and Amateracci, and we shot into space. I watched from the porthole, counting down the seconds to His obliteration. He fell on Tabora, almost cracked in half, burning from even before His entry.

Mom did not like the tale much. She dropped her glass on the floor, her hands shaking too much from the realization of her kid nearly having died inside the thing she called her god all those years.

After the funeral, and upon arriving back to Tabora, I decided to take a trip. Zysso was still around, and I convinced him to tag along. We still had at my home granny Jasmin’s old windwaker, the one she used just for herself. It was a tight fit for two people, what with one of us not being a ratlung, but we made it work.

I travelled back to the Barrens. To Anderson’s Crater. I stood by the edge, feet now not bare unlike before, and looked down. For as much damage as Tabora had taken from the Maker’s second planetfall, Anderson’s looked the same as before. Same hills and bumps, same rocks scattered by the basin. Same dangerous drop inside, where if you fell, the likelihood of survival decreased the more meters you tumbled down.

“You ever think of going down there?” Zysso asked me.

“You don’t?”

“Not really my style, climbing down big holes in the ground.”

“I wonder what kind of animals live here. Is it as hot as on the surface, at the lip we’re standing, or does the sheer size turn the inside better?”

“Well, I know some geography, and-“

“Don’t ruin the moment, dude!” I bumped him with my fist against his shoulder, laughing. He laughed back, nodding. He took off his sunglasses, and almost blinded himself from the glare of the sands. A boy so clumsy should not have been this good a pilot.

I stared at the crater. I looked down to its centre. My fingers grasped onto my scarf; still the same crimson red my granny adorned. I felt the thread with my tips, rustling from the neckbone where it rested up to my cheeks. Zysso noticed me, but he did not say anything.

I began unwrapping it from my head. Each circle a history unwrapping in front of me. I felt the sunrays hit my face, to embrace my hair. The heat was felt more and more prominently with each layer removed. And then, in the end, I held it all in my hand. A clenched fist, raised against the horizon, a crimson scarf dancing with the desert winds. An intricate dance that my body, my family, my name belonged to. Granny Jasmin had another prayer for such occasions.

Sadly, I have to say, I have forgot that one. I unclasped my fist.

Zysso followed with his eyes the trip my scarf made, swooping around the edges before gaining air and diving into the crater, rushing from left to right and swerving just centimetres from the ground; and yet, it never got stuck, it never fell, it never broke its dance.

Granny Jasmin would have loved it, I think; she would have called it a sign from the Maker Himself. I would like to agree.

I turned to Zysso after our eyes could no longer track it. “Do you want to pilot the waker back home?”

“Sure, that’d be fun!”

“Just don’t crash into any of the rocks on the way. Shit’s expensive, you know.”

“Ah, drat, and here I was thinking of doing exactly that…”

He smiled at me. I winked back. “Eventually.”

Such, after all and forever still, will be life out in the Barrens.

[susiephone]

@imdefnotvanessa thank you for giving me indirect permission to talk more <3

Fred: He has never been in trouble before in his life, he's every teacher's favorite and an all-around Very Nice Boy. He got detention for fighting and everyone is SHOCKED... until they find out that Fred was trying to stand up for a younger student who was getting bullied. Fred wanted to resolve things with words, things escalated, and Fred punched the bully in the face... and broke his own hand doing so. He instantly started apologizing and confessed the minute a teacher turned up to ask what was happening. He then started crying. Everyone who hears the full story is like, "Yeah, that makes more sense." Technically he should've gotten suspended for punching someone, but because he's such a nice, well-liked kid and it was a first time offense and he WAS defending someone, he got off with a week's worth of detention and a call home. He's in detention like "oh God I'm a CRIMINAL who has brought SHAME upon my WHOLE FAMILY" and everyone else is like, "First time?"

Shaggy: He's generally good at gym class, he doesn't mind the running or the team building games, but when he found out he'd have to play dodgeball, he said, with all due respect to the coach, he was Not Doing That Shit. He cut a week's worth of gym class and got two weeks' worth of detention in exchange.

Velma: She's pretty much singlehandedly pulling up the school's collective GPA, but cannot resist contradicting her teachers. This can range from "I respectfully disagree with your interpretation of Arthur Miller" to "You realize you are literally teaching us white supremacist rhetoric, right?" The latter tends to land her in trouble. Also has a habit of sneaking banned books into the school library where she volunteers, but no one can prove it's her and even if they could, no one's sure how to go about punishing someone for GIVING the school stuff. The librarian really likes her but can't do much to protect her from the less progressive members of the faculty.

Daphne: Her family's incredibly influential in politics and donates a lot to the school, so Daphne can usually skate consequences for texting in class, skipping class, showing up late, and turning in her work late. She's very friendly and charming but a lousy student. However, there's one very persistent first-year teacher who recognizes how smart she is and thinks someone needs to push her to actually do something with her intelligence and skills. This teacher is the one who likes Daphne best, but is also the hardest on her and the only one to give her detention, her parents be dammed. Daphne respects them for it and is usually willing to take it in stride, even as her mom threatens to make a stink about it.

Other ideas for this concept:

None of the kids like to say they "own" Scooby as he's obviously his own person, but legally he's Shaggy's dog and lives with him. (Fred lives in an apartment that doesn't allow dogs, Velma's mom is allergic, and Daphne's parents would never let an animal in their house.) However, they all share responsibility for taking care of him; Daphne paid for his license and registration, Fred comes over to walk him a couple times a week, and Velma brings him food from her place sometimes.

The fact that Scooby can talk is the world's worst kept secret. The kids TRY to keep it under wraps for his safety but it's not going well.

The kids gradually come to accept that something supernatural is going on, in this order: Shaggy, Daphne, Fred, and then finally Velma, who is still not convinced Scoob isn't an alien.

Daphne's father is a local politician now running for governor and it sucks, she's actively praying he'll lose. Her mom is a very successful lobbyist and spends a lot of time in DC. Daphne barely tells them anything about her personal life.

Fred's family is working class, his mom teaches at the school and his dad is a mechanic at a local garage. Fred works there too on weekends. His parents are super sweet and supportive.

Shaggy's parents are super chill, one of his moms is a mildly successful author who waits tables during the day, his other mom works as a dentist and is always on his case about flossing.

Velma's parents are both college professors, her mom is a lauded physicist and her dad's a historian currently on sabbatical to write a book. They love that Velma wants to follow them into academia but also encourage her to make friends.

The Mystery Machine is this ANCIENT RV Fred's uncle gave him for his birthday, Fred has been fixing it for ages and ages and it's finally in working condition again.

Daphne has a credit card but her parents can see everything she buys so the gang treats it as an "emergencies only" thing because Mr. and Mrs. Blake would NOT approve of her solving mysteries.

Only villains call Shaggy "Norville."

(Villains, and Fred's grandma.)

a scooby-doo origin story where Daphne, Fred, Velma, and Shaggy are all serving detention together and none of them (save for maybe Fred and Daphne) have ever really talked before, but they talk in detention. they have fun, they're bonding, it's a real Breakfast Club situation, and as detention ends they're walking home and they see a dog digging through the garbage of a local restaurant

he's big, but he seems sweet and he's obviously hungry, so the gang approaches him to see if he has a collar. Shaggy manages to get to him first, and the dog immediately takes to him, giving him a big dog kiss and cuddling up to him, but the dog seems to like all of them

upon finding he doesn't have a collar, Shaggy, scratching behind his ears, rhetorically asks, "What's your name, buddy?"

and the dog answers, "Scooby-Dooby-Doo!"

after a minute of freaking the FUCK out and asking each other "y'all heard that, right?" the kids decide to take the dog (who they immediately start calling Scooby-Doo, Scoob, or Scooby for short) home, and find that not only can the dog talk, he displays human-level intelligence and is easily frightened. when they ask where he came from, he doesn't seem to know, but when they walk past an old, abandoned shopping complex on the edge of town, he completely freaks out...and there are weird noises coming from that complex at night....and some suspicious sightings....

the first mystery they investigate together is the mystery of what in God's name is going on here

[theauthorsarchive]

Statement #9:The scholar

[CLICK] 

I wrote a book about a week ago. You would think this would be good but I have no memory of writing it. The only reason I know I wrote it is because I recorded myself doing so. The worst part is-

Knock Knock Knock

Hmm I'm not expecting anyone…i think? 

Klovn

Don't answer it.

Clatter

Zaine

W-when did you f-fucking get here?!

Klovn 

Doesn't matter, but I'm here to tell you not to answer the door.  

Zaine

W-why should i l-listen to you?

Klovn

Two reasons, I need you alive so I'm not letting you die yet and if you open that door it's going to be more and more difficult to do that. 

Zaine

What's b-behind the d-door. 

Klovn

Find out.

Knock Knock Knock

Zaine

Coming! 

Zaine

D-didn't you sa-. Where did he go?

Knock Knock Knock

Zaine

Coming!

Creak 

Pat pat pat pat

Creak

Zaine 

Can I help you?

???

Yes you can my dear boy, are you perchance the host of one supernatural podcast?

Zaine

Uhh yes ahem yes I am.

???

Splendid! 

Creak 

Zaine

Oh uh you're in my house now.

???

Well of course how else am I to regale you with my supernatural tale. 

Zaine

Well usually you send an email and it gets reviewed but…how did you get this address. 

???

You have a lovely home. Where can I sit for my tale? 

Zaine 

Well I have my recorder on me right now. So I guess the living room. Um, do you want me to get your scarf or coat for you? It's a pretty hot day. 

???

No, I have a naturally chilly internal temperature so the heat has never bothered me. 

Zaine

Oook so please take a seat can i get you anything. 

???

Do you have any milk?

Zaine

Milk? Are you sure?

???

Is my drink of choice perplexing?

Zaine

No, I guess. I'll grab some for you. just sit anywhere.

???

Lovely. 

[CLICK]

[CLICK]

Zaine

So mr…

???

Ivan, Ivan Kost and might I ask why the tapes. 

Zaine

No reason in particular, I just had a couple of them and I feel mysterious when I use them.

Kost

Strange. 

Zaine

Are you ready to tell your story?

Kost 

Since the moment you answered the door. 

Zaine

Awesome, Zaine Allgood original recording on May 26th, 2016. Please if you could.

Kost

Well it all started when i was but a little girl. I was prematurely born with a condition. It made it so I was as pale as snow and as weak and skinny as a stick. Growing up I was viciously mocked and bullied by my peers. They called me a freak, said I shouldn't have been born because of my condition. Home was less than ideal. My father was a military man and my mother was a zealot. 

You can assume that because of my appearance they saw me as a failure from the start. My father wanted a strong man fit to join the military and my mother wanted a beautiful baby boy. They both didn't get what they wanted. My fathers abuse was tame by standards, he never looked me in the eye and whenever i told him anything i could tell he wished i wasn't there. My mother on the other hand was the devil. She cursed me for being born saying how god had abandoned them for having such a cursed child. She would make me pray for hours on end making me beg for forgiveness from god. Hoping that one day he would hear her prayers and turn me into the thing she desired most.

My only refuge was my uncle Maximus, he was spouseless and childless. Instead being married to his work being a scholar collecting several books and obtaining vast amounts of knowledge from every walk of life. The best part was when he saw me he didn't see a failure or a demon, he saw his nephew. I often went to his house during summers. We would spend hours in his library talking of his recent adventures and reading the books that lined the shelves. He loved me like a son and I loved him much more than a father. 

But that would end when the summer did and I went back to hell. But he inspired me to seek my own knowledge. I was the academic master in my youth being the top student in my school and winning many awards for my intellect. When I eventually graduated high school I was a valedictorian. It was a surprise to all when i wanted to skip university, instead i went with my uncle and became his ward. It was my uncle's idea saying how colleges strip the intelligent of creativity leaving them mindless drones. 

My parents were against it,surprisingly, saying how they were proud of my hard work and didn't want it to be ruined by my bastard uncle. I told them to suck a lemon. And that's the last I saw of them. You could say working for my uncle was pure ecstasy. We traveled the globe seeking knowledge, oh the things we discovered and the adventures we had.

But after many years I realized something about my uncle. Originally I saw him as a machine fine tuned for seeking and acquiring knowledge no matter the danger. But something I never expected changed his mind…me. We would go on less treacherous journeys instead playing it safe. I asked him about it and he said he had grown weary in his old age. But I knew better. I knew that he saw me as weak and frail. 

The more he got to know me the more he saw my weakness and how it affected me. I detested him for it. The way he looked at me in pity, how when I had to take a break he would look to support and coddle me, he looked at me with such love it was sickening. But one day it all changed for us.

My uncle had heard a story of an abandoned cult temple on the western American coast. It was fairly safe all things considering and that's partly the reason why my uncle was so adamant on going. I had no reason to refuse so off we went to the good ol red, white, and blue. The trip was nothing to write home about but when we got there it was something to behold.

The temple was inside a cave in a mountain, it was fairly untouched because my uncle was given a lead via a benefactor. Inside was the usual cultist shlock they worshiped some clock faced god and died by a mass suicide. Incredibly standard really. But there was something that caught both me and my uncle's eye. It was a book.

It was written in a language that we did not know but somehow we understood it perfectly. It told of a ritual needed to summon a deity that would grant a wish to anyone for a price. The only thing stopping us was to recite a phrase. xe pyilw za il ylv, xe pazm za xe odipy, xe wafd oar xe wafd. My uncle looked at it in horror realizing the power that the ancient tomb had. While I looked in curiosity. 

I began to recite the text but I was stopped by my uncle. He said how we didnt know the risk,how we didnt know what the price was, blah blah blah. It was then I knew who my uncle was. A coward. The beloved uncle I once saw was now a pathetic loving old man. I knew I had to do something. And something I did.

We were leaving the cave and I noticed something. A ceremonial dagger ornate and golden. I grabbed it and thrust it into my uncle's back. His screams rang out against the cave's walls, the confusion and fear. When he turned and saw me holding the knife his look of betrayal made me sick to my stomach. I struck and I struck multiple times, I did for so long that I thought I might collapse from exhaustion. 

I took the book from my uncle's dead hands and recited the words that changed my life forever. What I saw I could not tell you but I knew it was beautiful. What wish did I make simple, I wished to no longer be restricted to the body that held me back. And like that I was reborn into a machine fine tuned for seeking knowledge…the end

Zaine

That…that's it?

Ivan

Why yes my dear author.

Zaine

Why would you ki- what did you call me.

Ivan

Your name. Why wouldn't I call you that? It is common manners.

Zaine

W-why did you come h-here.

Ivan 

To tell my story and to get a thank you for your medical bills…oh and to kidnap you for my own personal gain.

Wack 

Ivan 

Oh my sweet author, you can't hurt something that's already dead. 

Zaine

W-what the h-hell are you. 

Ivan

A ghost, the body in inhabit is simply a suit I use for convenience. 

Zaine

Hehehe like Kraus in hellboy.

Ivan

Sure. whatever makes you more comfortable. Now come here. 

Bzzt

Zaine

Put down the t-taser…p-please.

Ivan

Oho you're adorable. Now come HERE!

Bzzzzzzzzztttt

Zaine

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! 

WHACK

Klovn

Hey, you're messing with my ticket out of this hell. Get your own author.

Ivan 

A clown, strange, I'll have to dissect you later.

Klovn

Try it old man!

[CLICK] 

[calamityandme]

I’ve had a better couple of days thank goodness.

Yesterday I had a “me” day. I played a lot of BG3. ROMANCED ASTARION! It was at the tiefling party/bonfire or whatever. It was so fun lol.

I made myself chicken and dumplings for dinner that night. Spent time with Danny. Overall a good day.

✨(I need to talk about my special interests now)✨

Today I cleaned for R. I had a slightly different list than usual. I didn’t clean parts of the upstairs bathroom because she had already cleaned them, for example. I decided to switch things up with my listening selection. While I cleaned I listened to Rhett and Link’s podcast Ear Biscuits on Spotify. I hadn’t listened to them in a while because I’ve been enjoying cleaning while listening to my library audiobooks, but I remembered that they do special sex themed episodes during the month of September called Sextember so I checked those out.

I really enjoy those episodes of Ear Biscuits. I enjoyed What Are Our Sex Lives Like? (Ep. 395).

I listened to half of EP. 394 Kinks We’ve Tried (Or Will Try) but it was also funny. I only listened to half because I had finished cleaning by then, nothing against them. I plan on finishing it sometime soon.

I want to go on a little bit of a Rhett and Link tangent lol. I have been watching Rhett and Link’s content ever since I was first given access to YouTube. I was introduced to them when I stumbled across their video Squirrel Rights Song.

I have watched Rhett and Link videos at many varying points in my life. Sometimes almost religiously watching uploads, other times forgetting about them for a year until I’m recommended an interesting Good Mythical Morning segment by the YouTube algorithm.

Their videos are just a safe place for me. I have definitely looked up to Rhett and Link as father figures in my life when my dad wasn’t there when I needed him. Rhett and Link had time for me every morning lol. That was enough to leave a good impression on me. I even wrote to them back in the day and drew something of me and my friend meeting Rhett and Link lol. I was 17 and she was 15 at the time lol. Looking back, I’m sure if I actually ended up sending them my letters/package that the drawing of the two grown men standing next to two teenage girls would probably be creepy lol. Maybe it was a good thing those letters stayed in my sentiment box.

I loved the first Good Mythical Evening. I paid for it so my friend and I could watch it together. My friend C is also a long-time fan of Rhett and Link.

I just have enjoyed their content and how it’s changed over the years. I loved the small town commercials, the rap battles, the many GMM changes and skits that have stuck with me throughout the years (Moolissa, Cotton Candy Randy✨). I have a lot of good memories with their content.

But anyways done talking about that lol.

I went to this coffee shop by my work and got myself a special coffee to celebrate going to work today. I really contemplated calling in sick today but I knew in my bones I needed to get it over with.

A few days ago I tried to get coffee from this place and I didn’t have enough money to get the coffee, so i apologized and left the drive thru coffeeless. I thought I had enough but I was $2 short. Today I asked to pay for 2 coffees and only get 1 to make up for my grievance. They were nice about it.

It felt really good to pay for the coffee I couldn’t have earlier. I got myself some lunch and dropped some things off at a donation center near me before going back home for the day.

I played more BG3 today lol. Started watching this alien movie called Arrival. It’s pretty good so far. I have just been trying to take it easy since today was my “hardest” day of the week. Hard meaning most physically exhausting I would say.

Tomorrow is engagement photos. I’m so so nervous but excited. I know I’m fat and I’ll look fat so I’m trying to brace myself. Fat doesn’t equal bad. I am fat and that’s okay. I’m beautiful because of me and everything that I am. Mantra for photos ✨ I’m excited for my mom and maybe nana to see our venue too.

I’ll end this post with some marigolds from our garden. Ignore the dirt lol.