#before anyone grabs their pitchforks

[helluvacity]

(I'd participate in the ball but I seem to be blocked by @qveenofgluttony.)

[nabesthetics]

"Dorian killed the fandom" so did some people already forget about shitty NH management and the Last Legacy fiasco and the Discord server mess and—

Not to mention that calling it dead feels straight up insulting to people who still actively make things for it. HC and fanart posts are still hitting hundreds of notes, so that's an interesting definition of a "dead fandom".

Maybe instead of wasting energy hating on a company that picked up NH's mess, you should try creating something or supporting a writer/artist.

[facetsofthecloset]

Ok random mini rant about a webtoon I read under the cut:

So there’s a webtoon I’ve been reading that’s largely a wholesome romcom slice of life, but there’s also a lot of character conflict driven by character flaws and iffy choices. Nothing super angsty, it really does tend to stick to the wholesome/feel good side of things, which is great bc it’s tonally consistent and that’s what I go there for.

The male lead in the latest chapter was a bit rude and drunk over some stuff that’s happened in past chapters, which is obviously going to lead to a confrontation and correction and things will be fine bc that’s what this webtoon is like. I’m excited to see how it goes, BUT

I made the mistake of looking in the comments and so many people are??? So??? Upset by his behavior????

Which like yeah, he was being kind of a dick this episode but like. Nothing an apology can’t fix! But people are acting like he suddenly started kicking puppies and I’m just like ?????????? Y’all where is this coming from???

Like yeah he’s been very charming and mostly woobie up to now, but the way he acted this chapter isn’t hugely out of character or anything. And it’s not like he’s doing anything that much worse than stuff that’s been discussed before, but people are acting like their personal friend betrayed them and it’s so weird. Why are you even reading a story if you don’t want conflict and character development?!?!

Idk I feel like it’s this whole misused therapy speak mentality combined with purity culture or something, like all the comments are “he violated her boundaries! This is so icky I can’t believe him >:(“ over shit that was like. One mildly inadvisable joke that didn’t land well. And when he went to apologize he was kinda drunk and snooped a bit before she showed up, but it’s like. That’s so normal!! That’s such normal shit, like yeah it’s a mistake and he ought to apologize properly but it’s so MILD and SO OBVIOUSLY a step in the story?????

I mean. You have to have something to correct for plot progression! For character growth! This is so incredibly TAME, why are we all suddenly talking like the beginnings of a cancellation mob????

[danieldrivesfast]

The fact that people are screaming about the George/Trump thing when we have no context, when we all KNOW how DTS intentionally manipulates content for drama and a reaction, AND it's been said that it's obvious the producers have cut things to make George look particularly bad... Come the fuck on. Again, absolutely no critical thought is coming from the mob.

These people are NOT AMERICAN, they don't have their finger on the pulse of US politics. It's been established that at the time most of the world saw Trump as nothing more than a joke. Things were NOT THIS BAD at the time of the 2024 Miami GP. Nobody thought he had a chance of reelection. Yeah, he is a piece of shit, but so are plenty of other people at Grands Prix. (Obviously, different levels exist.) As I said about Lando (after being really angry), it is not reasonable to have expected any of them to have a real grasp on Trump and his policies when at the time he was nothing more than a laugh and a crazy celebrity for most people outside of the US.

But of course, George (and anyone else) should've been clairvoyant and known what was coming months later, and he should be aware of political happenings in a country he doesn't live in that do not affect him in any way, just like all of you should know all about every leader of every country and all of their policies. Be for real.

George has always supported the right things on his own, by his own choice, on his own time. He has also been very interested in seeing every celebrity that comes around to races. The fact that, AGAIN, nobody seems to be able to take a step back and think critically is unsurprising. It's easier to grab pitchforks and make wild claims to show how morally superior y'all are, right?

I am also not thrilled about George, or anyone, being excited to meet that evil rotting corpse. But I also know that there is ZERO evidence George supports anything he stands for, and that sometimes people get excited to meet/see famous people.

And let's not forget, the FIA has gagged the drivers even tighter than before, so they can't speak out on ANY of this or openly support ANY cause (at the track, at least, as I understand it) that's not pre-approved - which is something George is fighting against as GPDA director.

But sure, I get it, facts and reality and common sense don't matter to the people competing in the Morality Olympics.

[fuctacles]

<< 3 | 4 | 5 >>

The storm comes to a head late at night in the form of knocking at his front door. It's muffled, but the space is small enough for him to hear. Confused, he closes his book to have a peek at his porch. He doesn't see anyone, but the weird knocking continues, followed by scratching. That eases his worries immediately and he opens up the door without much thought. Sure enough, his dog friend is sitting on the porch.

"What are you doing here this late?" Eddie asks, looking around as if the owner could show up out of the darkness with pitchforks and accusations. He moves to the side. "Come in, I don't think Steve wants to see me anyway. Leave as much hair as you want." Eddie smiles dryly at the dog.

Without a word, well, obviously, it's a dog, but without even a look in his direction, the dog moves towards his bedroom.

"Came in for sleepy cuddles, huh?" Eddie chuckles to himself. He latches back the door and moves towards the kitchen to grab a snack for himself and the dog. He's putting an extra slice of ham on a plate when a voice startles him, coming in from the closed doors to his bedroom.

Unmistakably human. Unmistakably Steve's.

"Uh, Eddie? Can I borrow some pants?"

Eddie's brain reruns a whole passage on mimics from his monster manual. Then on faeries and demons and goes straight into thoughts of Demogorgons. His walkie is in the bedroom.

"Eddie?"

He does the next best thing and grabs the heaviest pan he can find.

"I can hear you man," Steve's voice comes with a sigh when he approaches the door. "I swear it's me and I'm sorry for scaring you, I'll explain everything in a minute." Eddie lowers the pan. "But I'd really like to be wearing pants while I do that."

The request is weird enough to settle his nerves and finally open the door. And sure enough, there is Steve Harrington, butt-naked save for the blanket he wrapped himself in. 

"What the fuck?" Eddie risks speaking up, his grip on the panhandle tightening. He glances towards his window. It's closed and all the trinkets on the sill below remain untouched. "Where's my dog?" he asks next, eyes dropping to the floor.

"Come on, man." Steve's fingers twist in the fabric of the blanket, and his face is a picture of pure distress. 

Eddie decides to show some mercy and, not taking his eyes off the intruder, inches his way to the dresser where he fishes out that one pair of hand-me-down sweats he's never fully grown into. They should be big enough to fit Harrington's ass. If that even was him.

He throws the pants at Steve, who fumbles to catch them while keeping the blanket covering him up. They stare at each other for a long while until Steve raises his eyebrows expectantly. 

"You gonna turn around or...?"

Eddie shakes his head stubbornly. He crosses his arms for good measure, despite the pan making it awkward and uncomfortable.

"I'm only half convinced you're not a mimic. Or a Vecna hallucination. So no, I'm not turning my back on you," he scoffs.

Steve's eyes widen at the mention of their last demonic opponent. He seems to understand Eddie's reservations a little bit better. 

"I swear I'm not," he says softer, looking guilty for scaring his friend even further than he already had. "I'm sorry for freaking you out," he continues, turning around himself. The blanket drops and Eddie never had another butt-ass naked man in his bedroom before. Golden boy Steve, too, among his band posters and trailer trash glory? A truly poetic sight. 

"I just had to come clean."

Steve bends over and the sweats don't get pulled up fast enough for Eddie to miss the twin moles on his right cheek.

He turns back around quickly, scratching his forearm self-consciously.

"Dustin's right, I'm just making it more difficult than it has to be."

Okay, so maybe involving Henderson didn't backfire as badly as Eddie feared. On the other hand, he had half-naked Steve Harrington, squirming uncomfortably at his place, so it was hard to tell. 

"Well, I'm here and listening, so you can go any moment now," Eddie prompts him, leaning against his desk. He observes Steve open and close his mouth hesitantly, and rolls his eyes. "Okay, kitchen," he commands, straightening up. When Steve doesn't move, he points at the door with his pan. "You go first, I don't trust that you're not gonna turn into something else."

Steve has made half a step when his eyes widen.

"You figured it out?"

Eddie raises his eyebrows, pan twisting in his grip half-threateningly. 

"So you are a mimic?"

"I don't know what a mimic is!" Steve groans, frustrated. "I just turn into a dog."

At first Eddie's ready to scoff, maybe throw the pan at him, but as he studies Steve's expression, he frowns. Slowly, he connects the dots in his brain.

"You've been the dog all this time?"

Steve nods.

"That's why I never saw you? Because you were right there, turned into a fucking dog?" he asks incredulously.

"Yeah," Steve admits, folding in on himself like he wanted to disappear.

Eddie puts the pan aside and starts pulling his rings off, one by one. Steve eyes him warily, and it takes him a moment to speak up.

"Uh, what are you doing?"

Eddie looks him calmly in the eye.

"I'm going to punch you now, and I don't want to cut you up."

Tags: @noodle-shenaniganery @jaytriesstrangerthings @imaginary-maggie-waggie @samsoble

[enchantedchocolatebars]

A Winsome Witch And A Happy Human Chapter 5 : Befriending The Enemy

Written by 💕 enchantedchocolatebars 🍫 (me, lol).

Ao3 version.

Commission cover art.

Cover art poll.

Chapter titles.

Fic playlist 🎵 💕 🎶 ✨️ <3

Cover redraw.

Enjoy!

(Really love how I worded my notes for this chapter on ao3, btw!)

The sudden sound of water rushed into a bowl as the three Titan eggs continued to remain comfortable in their bed.

Seconds later, the door to their room began to open.

"Ah," the Titan let out in relief as he stepped inside, a piece of toilet paper clinging to his foot as he took a seat in his rocking chair.

"Now," he began, reaching for the thick hardcover he placed on the floor.

"Back to our story." He flipped to the fifth chapter.

...

"Oh, Philip."

The atmosphere's blackness slowly fades as blue eyes slowly open, revealing a view of Caleb.

"Philip," Caleb coos out a second time, his smile soft as he stands above his brother's bed, wielding a pitchfork.

Philip's eyes slowly begin to shut.

"Philip!"

"Gah!"

The younger teen jolts up.

"What?" Philip groans out in a groggy tone, soon sitting up as he scratches the back of his messy bed head.

Philip watched as Caleb's smile got bigger, a look of alarmed excitement appearing on the blonde's face. "There's a witch in our home!" he exclaimed.

The news caused Philip's eyes to widen. "A witch?!" he repeated in shock, clutching his covers.

Caleb confirmed with a nod of his head as he continued. "She broke in not too long along. I have no doubt that I saw her downstairs."

A hand gestures at Philip to quickly get up. "Come on, Pip, don't just sit there! I can't defeat this she-demon alone! I need your help!"

As Caleb races out of the room, Philip quickly springs out of bed, briskly grabbing his wooden sword from under his pillow before rushing after his brother, his heart pounding.

Despite his nervousness, he was equally enthusiastic about aiding his brother in fighting a witch.

Both teens were passionate about witch hunting and eradicating evil from Gravesfield.

...

"Caleb?" Philip whispered out as he slowly entered the dim dining room. "Caleb? Caleb, where are you?" Philip wondered where on earth the elder went. "Did you get the witch?"

Suddenly, a thought came to Philip that he wished he hadn't thought of.

"Oh no..." As he hurried to the front door, the brunette felt an uneasy tightness in his stomach. "No, no, no. The witch didn't. She didn't take him. She didn't! Did she...? No!"

Philip's only companion in life was Caleb, and he was afraid of losing him, especially to a witch. As anxiety swirls in his mind, Philip opens the door and sees--

"... Oh, hi!" Mr. Kookman, walking by, pauses in place as he greets Philip with a wave.

Henrietta, by her husband's side, proceeds to cluck.

The pair were taking an early morning romantic stroll together.

"Oh... hi," Philip greets back with an awkward smile and waves before closing the door.

As he turned around, he immediately let out a high shriek as he faced a figure much taller than him that appeared to have a skeletal visage.

As Philip fell back onto his bottom, he began to hyperventilate as he pursed his lips and attempted to breathe slowly, only to hear familiar chuckles come from the figure.

Caleb couldn't help but collapse into laughter upon seeing Philip's reaction as he fell down, kicking his feet gleefully in the air as he rocked back and forth, Philip's wooden mask slipping from his face.

As Caleb continues to chortle like a child, we get a freeze frame of him, and the show switches to an art nouveau style with entertaining facts about him listed on screen.

Name: Caleb Wittebane

Age: 17

Desires: To become a famous carpenter who travels the world! (And to someday meet Queen Elizabeth I! Oh, wait…)

Likes: Being older, of course… and cardinals.

Fun fact: He might find ways to sometimes skip church, but shh, don't tell anyone (especially not Mr. Town Minister).

As Caleb's laughter gradually fades, he sits up and wipes a tear from his eye, only for a large brown Bible to strike him right in the face.

An enraged Philip gets his own freeze frame with facts.

Name: Philip Wittebane

Age: 13

Favorite Weapon: His Bible (both literally and figuratively)

Favorite Food: His brother's flapjacks

Is totally in love with: Jesus Christ

...

The early morning had soon turned into early afternoon as Caleb stood before his bedroom door, a small, guilt-ridden smile on his face.

It was evident that someone was preventing him from entering inside, mainly due to the door being locked.

The thick tension in the air was palpable to Caleb as he started speaking.

"Come on, Pip, I said I was sorry," the blonde explained with a nervous laugh. "Please don't stay mad at me. You have to admit, the look on your face was pretty hilarious."

Caleb released more anxious laughter with the hope that his brother would join him as a sign of forgiveness, but instead, he was met with cold silence.

Caleb sighed as his laughter dissipated, his guilt now weighing heavily on him.

"Hey, Philip." He knocked gently on the door. "I truly am sorry for what I did. I shouldn't have woken you up so early in the morning just to pull a prank on you."

Caleb heard a miffed huff come from behind the door.

"Your prank was stupid!" Philip growled.

'Oh, he's speaking to me now. That's a good sign,' Caleb thought to himself. "I know, I know, but--"

"Say it!"

Caleb sighed. "My prank was stupid," he muttered out, his voice filled with shame.

"And?"

The blonde hung his head.

"And I'm sorry. I wish to make amends with you, Pip."

Reaching behind his back, Caleb proceeded to pull out a flyer.

With a grin starting to form on his face, he said, "Your favorite witch hunter is holding a book signing for his recent autobiography at the library today."

"He... is?" Philip asked, a spark of interest in his voice.

Caleb nodded. "That's right. I figured I could take you."

Caleb was aware of his brother's copy of "The Ways of a Witch Hunter" by Matthew Hopkins as he saw him reading it regularly, with Philip engrossed in every word written on the pages.

"..."

Caleb briefly chuckled due to the silence. "What? Don't believe me? Have a look for yourself."

The room door slowly opened, and Philip poked his head out to see his brother happily holding a flyer with a picture of his hero and the title of his latest book.

Blue eyes immediately sparkled at the paper, and before you know it, Philip soon shuts the door.

Caleb laughed, knowing that his brother was getting ready. "I'll be waiting for you downstairs, Pip."

...

Philip couldn't contain his excitement as he and Caleb walked through town to the library.

The brunette was practically buzzing with joy at the thought of getting to meet the man he looked up to.

'Maybe if I share my knowledge of witch hunting with Mr. Hopkins, he might offer me an apprenticeship!'

Philip squealed in his mind as he and Caleb arrived at a long line that began outside and led inside the library.

The queue of people was lively, as everyone was eager to have their book copies autographed by Gravesfield's handsomest hero.

...

As the line slowly progressed forward, Caleb became more and more exhausted with every hour that passed, but Philip remained cheerful and held onto his book tightly with anticipation.

...

"Look, Caleb!" Philip directs his finger at Matthew Hopkins' author table.

He and Caleb were now inside the library, waiting in the center of the line.

"We're almost at the front!"

Matthew was occupied with writing his initials on the title page of his book for a woman who was clearly captivated by him, her eyes glistening with love.

He gave her a suave wink after he finished and returned her book, and she nearly fainted from his charm.

Next in line to have their book signed was a man grinning ear to ear as he handed his book to Matthew.

Hopkins proceeded to open the book to the title page and placed the nib of his pen on the page.

Upon starting to write, he stopped as soon as he noticed the scratchy, hard-to-see texture of his lines.

"Hmm," he quietly hummed. "It seems my pen's run out of--"

The profound number of hands reaching out to Matthew with spare pens as soon as he said that startled him.

He soon smirked. "Ink," he finished, giving his hair a good toss.

The witch finder general gladly took a pen from the nearest hand, which caused the crowd of fans to roar and squeal with fanatic cheers.

As soon as Matthew started signing, we are greeted with a freeze frame of him in an art nouveau style, complete with fun facts about him.

Name: Matthew Hopkins

Age: 24

Status: Gravesfield's greatest witch (hunter???) (finder???) general.

Capabilities: Is able to detect the Devil's mark on a witch a mile away (or so he says).

His best assets: You take a wild guess.

...

"... Huh? Oh, yeah, we are," an absent-minded Caleb acknowledged his brother's comment as his eyes were glued to the wooden lantern clock on the wall.

'She'll be arriving at the house soon...,' Caleb thought to himself as the clock struck three.

He gazed at Philip.

"Uh, Pip, you'll have to excuse me, I need to use the bathroom."

Caleb tried his best not to look like he was lying.

"But, Caleb--"

"Don't worry, I'll be back soon!" The oldest assured as he stepped out of line and quickly headed out of the main entrance of the library without delay.

Philip narrowed his eyes at Caleb as he left but decided to take his word that he would indeed return.

After all, the oldest had no reason to abandon his younger brother in line and suddenly go somewhere else.

That's not like him at all, Philip believed.

...

After another hour and so of waiting in line, it was finally Philip's turn to approach Matthew Hopkins' table.

An overly conceited smile crossed Hopkins' lips upon seeing the exuberant teen dash to his table.

The youth's admiration of his greatness brought him joy.

"GoodafternoonMr.HopkinsmynameisPhilipWittebanewouldyoupleasepleasePLEASEsignmybook?"

The bright-eyed boy spoke at such a rapid pace, which made Matthew let out a small, lighthearted laugh.

"I don't see why not," Hopkins said as he took the handed book and opened it to the title page.

As he began to sign his initials, Philip's grin glowed as he screeched heavily with excitement in his head.

"You said your name was Philip, correct?"

"Yes!"

"I see. Doesn't that mean--?"

"Lover of horses? Yes!"

"I see."

After Hopkins was finished, he gave the book back to Philip.

"I'm too busy doing God's work, so I'm not much of an artist," he admitted with a chuckle.

Upon opening his book, Philip noticed a poorly drawn stick figure horse drawing next to Matthew's initials.

With a gasp, the brunette squeezed his book with affection, swaying back and forth.

"That's okay, I love your drawing! I'll treasure it forever! Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, so much, Mr. Hopkins! I hope to be as great a witch hunter as you when I'm your age."

Matthew chuckled cockily. "Well, you'll never be as great as I am, but there's always room for second best."

"Second best," Philip repeated in wonderment, imagining himself as such. "I'll aspire to be that then! Thank you so much!"

...

After the book signing event came to an end, Philip was walking through the woods as the vibrant orange sun was starting to set.

He breathed out a small huff, clearly cross, as his boots crunched down on the autumn leaves that dressed the soil.

As upset as the brunette was at Caleb's dishonesty and departure, at least he got the chance to interact with his favorite hero.

Nonetheless, he was still angry.

After some thought, he decided that he would give his brother the silent treatment as soon as he got home.

...

After reaching his front door, Philip opened it and stepped inside.

Upon hearing bubbly giggles coming from the kitchen, he paused.

Philip then frowned.

'Looks like he brought a girl home,' the brunette thought to himself as he sighed, shutting the door.

That must be the reason why he left him alone in line.

After muttering a not-so-nice insult under his breath, Philip proceeded to the kitchen.

Upon arriving at the entrance, Philip instantly froze as he watched the shocking scene taking place in front of him, his book falling from his grasp.

He was soon struck by a wave of terror as he covered his mouth.

"... I picked this pumpkin a few days ago, so might as well use it before it goes bad, right?" Caleb chuckled fondly as he was preparing pumpkin soup with a girl who looked to be around his age.

However, this was no ordinary girl.

She wore a scarlet colored cloak with a hood that she had on while a black bird was nesting inside on her head.

The teen's dress looked like something an otherworldly explorer would wear, and while the length of her auburn hair was unknown due to her hood, she had fluffy bangs that covered the entirety of her eyes.

Her demonically pale skin, golden eyes, pointed ears, canine teeth, and exposed ankles led Philip to clench his fists.

"Witch!" he shouts before charging at the girl to attack her, only for Caleb to take notice and quickly intervene.

"Whoa, Philip, wait! No fighting in the house!" Caleb informed, extending his arm out to prevent Philip from harming the girl.

He glanced at the girl and smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry about him. This was the little brother I was telling you about."

"WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN SAYING ABOUT ME TO HER!" Philip demanded with a growl.

Caleb rolled his eyes, causing the girl to giggle. "His name is Philip. And Philip, this is ******."

"******?!" A shocked Philip repeated. "That's no human name!"

"******!" ****** beamed out her own name in utter delight as we get a freeze frame of her in an art nouveau style with character information about her.

Name: ****** ****** ******

Age: 17

Species: Witch

Adores: Palismen and making weird noises

Crimes: Arson

"She's a really good friend of mine."

"FRIEND?!"

"We've been seeing each other for quite some time now."

"FOR SOME TIME NOW?!"

"Mostly when you're either asleep or away."

A happy, hawk-like screech escapes ****** as she waves at Philip, but the brunette refuses to wave back and shoots a glare at Caleb.

"What are you doing?! Stop smiling at her and kill her already!" Philip ordered loudly.

Caleb rolled his eyes a second time.

Philip bared his teeth.

"If you don't do something about her, I'll let the town minister know that you've been seeing a witch this entire time! You know that's a sin!"

When Philip noticed the worried expression on ******'s face when the minister was mentioned, a smirk appeared on his face.

"Oh, yeah?" Caleb began, crossing his arms as he smiled serenely but threateningly.

"Since we're on the topic of sin, I'm certain that Mr. Town Minister would be very interested to see those inaccurate drawings of Christ in your journal. You know, the ones where you give him massive muscles and chest hair."

Philip's face flushed immediately, and he scowled. "Fine, I won't tell then!" he shouted with a stomp of his foot. "... AND STOP GOING INTO MY JOURNAL!"

Caleb chuckled.

Knowing that she would be safe and far away from the minister's clutches, ****** screeches happily as she hugs Caleb.

During their hug, Philip rolls his eyes and grumbles bitterly under his breath, but soon notices the expression his brother sends him as ******'s back is turned.

Caleb was smirking at him as he winked.

He then proceeded to put a finger on his lips.

Philip's eyes widened in sudden understanding, his smirk even darker than Caleb's as he nodded.

'Heh, their friendship isn't genuine. Caleb definitely has a trick up his sleeve,' Philip chuckled darkly in his thoughts.

...

As ****** carefully ladled servings of pumpkin soup into bowls and placed thick slices of bread on small plates, she failed to notice the two shadows looming over her with eerie smiles... until she finally did and turned around.

She smiles when she sees that it's just her two friends, Caleb and Philip Wittebane, who were both smiling affectionately at her.

Knowing that she would be sharing supper with them brought her immense joy.

[sooniebby]

Sooooooo let's Go!

The reader would be Ashley's brother, and would be sent along with Leon to rescue her. But, the reader has knowledge about weapons and espionage, for being an agent (your choice of his affiliation), and throughout the mission Leon and the reader begin to fall in love with each other. So after rescuing Ashley, they arrange to meet and what happens next is up to you!

When Ada appears, the reader is with Leon, which makes him feel a little jealous and maybe Ashley helping them get together, pls?

ఌ 𝐋𝐄𝐎𝐍 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐃𝐘

꧁ 𝙇𝙚𝙤𝙣 𝙭 𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 ꧂

Word count › 3.4k

Rating › SFW

Warnings › none

╭┈─────── ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

╰┈─➤ ＢＥＧＩＮＮＩＮＧ

Maybe it wasn’t smart. Sure, (Name) had the skills to fight and kill. But never alone. He had never been alone before but here he was. In some random village. He was cursing himself in his head. His gun was empty as well. Ammo gone.

Only a knife as his only weapon of choice. He knows how to fight. But these aren’t… people.

He can’t even fight dirty! They don’t go down like normal people. Sure, he had heard about zombies but these felt so different. He was a fool to think he could ever save Ashley. His father was right on him not thinking before reacting.

But hearing his baby sister was kidnapped, how could he not panic? They don’t know what these people are. And after running into just two of them, he knew he was right to be afraid.

Checking his rounds again, as if some would magically appear, he shoved his gun back into his holster. He wanted to give up but decided he was too far ahead. The church he had heard those things talk about had to have Ashley in it.

It was mainly a guess but guess were all he had right now.

He was lucky enough that most of the villagers were already dead whenever he passed by. But that also caused him to worry. Who the hell was killing them? It looked to be gunshots, so he was hoping it could’ve been some regular army guy but he didn’t know if they would want to work with him.

The church in front of (Name) was mainly deserted. He saw two bodies on the floor as he walked to the entrance. It was already open. He slowly stepped inside, brandishing his knife.

It was a longer blade than most knifes but it was getting old. He forgot to grab a much newer one.

He was silent, just to hear if there was anyone else until he heard Ashley’s voice. And some unknown man’s. His sister screamed at first but then it was silent. (Name) panicked and quickly ran up to the ladder.

With only his adrenaline pumping, he was on the second floor in record time to see the man in front of Ashley. From his view, all he could really see was that he was holding a gun.

(Name) crept over, ready to attack the man until he turned around. A sudden squeak left his mouth, he would very much deny it, and he dropped onto the ground.

Ashley sighed in relief. “(Name)!” She rushed over to him despite the other man’s protest. “How’d you find me?”

“Oh, uh, I stole some… stuff.. it doesn’t matter. We gotta leave,” (Name) moved to stand up until a sudden cough was heard. The siblings turned their attention back to the man with the gun.

“This family reunion is cute and all but I need to know how you got here,” he said.

“Why? Who are you?”

“Leon Kennedy. I was sent by her.. your father to rescue Ashley. He didn’t tell me his son would be here as well.” Leon said, eyeing (Name).

“Well he doesn’t know.”

“Not a good thing, is it?” Leon asked, raising an eyebrow. (Name) bit his lip. Okay, he was right. It wasn’t a good idea to come here without telling someone. If he hadn’t found out where Ashley was and ended up being killed, no one would’ve known where he was.

Ashley sighed. “Okay, we can worry about this later. We need to get out here before—”

The sound of chanting interrupted her as the trio looked over to the window. It was the villagers with pitchforks and weapons, ready to do anything to keep Ashley from leaving. Leon cursed as he began to reload his gun.

“Alright, we’ll talk later. I’m sure you can fight, yeah? Don’t gotta worry about you?”

(Name) rolled his eyes. “No shit. I wouldn’t have been able to survive this long if I couldn’t.”

“It didn’t seem like it by that mouse squeak you let out earlier. But prove me wrong.”

“Guys.” Ashley groaned.

“Sorry…” (Name) muttered.

(Name) did not like this Leon Kennedy.

But he couldn’t lie at how cool Leon was fighting against the villagers. (Name) didn’t have to do much at all. He mainly focused on keeping Ashley away from any villagers that tried to grab her.

“We have a helicopter coming, we just have to reach the location before the weather.” Leon said, leading them to the supposed location.

(Name) felt weird following some random guy but he seemed legit. Ashley seemed to have no problem so he didn’t say anything. If this guy did have a helicopter for them to get out, he’d better take it.

Ashley elbowed his arm. “(Name), what were you thinking? Dad would’ve sent someone for me. You didn’t need to come.”

“Yeah, but, I was worried.”

“Worrying is fine but thinking would be nice.”

“Would you not have tried to come rescue me if you could?”

“Maybe but I would’ve had a plan or at least some people to help. Not go it alone. We’re lucky Leon is here.”

“I could’ve saved you without mister pretty face.”

“Thanks.” Leon suddenly said.

“Huh?” (Name) remembered that Leon could obviously hear them. He wasn’t exactly whispering when he said that.

“Mister pretty face? Thanks.”

“It wasn’t a compliment…” (Name) muttered but got no answer from Leon. Ashley simply laughed.

The walk to the location was cut short when they ran into a few villagers. It felt like an ambush as they popped out from every side, effectively blocking them from leaving. (Name) pushed Ashley behind him, holding his knife out as some sort of warning.

He heard a chuckle from beside him but he decided to ignore it. Leon had no business laughing at him in a moment like this. The villagers began to attack as Leon started shooting.

(Name) payed more attention to Ashley the entire time, maneuvering her anything a villager grabbed at her clothes. But all this attention on her left his wide open for a swing at his head. He dodge the first time, much to his shock but was swiftly overtaken by one that stabbed his hand.

He cursed, watching as one of the much bigger ones grabbed him with ease and slung him over his back. Ashley screamed out, as another tried to grab her but was killed by Leon. He aimed his gun at the one holding (Name) but was swiftly attacked by another villager.

It gave the one holding (Name) enough time to walk away. (Name) used his knife to slash at the kidnapper but was unable to phase it. This wasn’t like the other villagers. It had a hat with a long coat. A stature that felt inhuman.

“Relieve yourself to God, my child. For it is the only thing for your salvation.”

“The fuck are you talking about?”

(Name) could feel faint. His tiredness was getting to him. Fighting against two villagers earlier with just six billets and a knife tired him. He also didn’t pass by with no hits from that fight. They got him a couple of times. It didn’t bother him then, he had built a tolerance of pain but he could feel himself bleeding.

He didn’t have the adrenaline to push through anymore.

At least Ashley was safe with someone.

ꕤ

“You will be a great sacrifice. Abandon any struggling or doubt and give this fruitful body to God.”

The feeling of something cool against his skin shook (Name) awake as he tried to open his eyes. They were heavy as he heard the murmur of prayers. He wasn’t dead? A slice at his skin caused him to scream out, pulling at the chains that held him. He didn’t know where the hell he was but he could certainly tell someone was carving something into his back.

The sound of them walking away was when he finally got the courage to open his eyes.

He then tried to look around but only saw a dark cave. Only a lone candle light on a floor near the wall and the moonlight seeping through the cave opening was his only sense of light. He could feel blood trailing down his back as the blood was pulled away from his skin.

(Name) didn’t want to know what was carved into his back. He wasn’t sure what was happening but he knew he would die tonight. It had to be a human sacrifice. This cult already tried to kill him before.

He glanced around, to see if there was anything he could free himself with. His shirt was torn open seeing he still had it one technically. There were too lazy to fully strip him shirtless. His pants were still there but covered in mud and dirt from his falls earlier.

His knife.

His knife was on the table with the candle. He couldn’t even kill himself to not deal with whatever this shit was. (Name) whined. He wanted to just die.

Not have to deal with whatever the fuck this was.

He didn’t want to die here but it seemed most likely. Shit. (Name) hoped Ashley was fine. She had Leon at least. He sighed. The feeling of being lightheaded taking over.

“Oh wow. Didn’t think you’d be here.”

(Name) glanced up to see a woman in a red sweater dress in front of him. An odd choice to wear in a situation like this but he didn’t question it. The woman kneeled down in front of him, looking over his body with pursed lips.

“You feeling okay? You look a little woozy.”

“No…” (Name) couldn’t finish his speech. He groaned.

“You’re Ashley’s big brother, right? You came to come save her yourself? How cute.”

“I…”

“Well, it seems you’re in a bad position so I’ll help you and you’ll help me later, alright?”

“Hm.”

“I’ll take that as a yes. Ada Wong.”

“(Name) G….” (Name) felt his head fall down to the ground as the chains holding him up released him. He groaned out in pain but soon felt himself fall asleep.

He wasn’t sure he’d wake up.

ꕤ

“How’d you find him?”

“I’d put the gun down if I were you. The only thing that kept him alive was me. I see you lost Ashley though.” Ada said.

(Name) groaned as he looked around at where he was. He could feel that the carvings in his back certainly did happen. It was a fucked up dream. But what he didn’t feel all to there at all.

“He’ll be a bit stupid for an hour. It’s just the drugs.”

“I don’t have an hour.”

“Well you do now, Leon. Unless you wanna just leave him here, where anyone can just walk into this house. I mean, he isn’t your mission anyway.”

(Name) could hear voices outside of the room he was in. It looked to be the master bedroom with how spacious it was. He couldn’t think straight. A giggle left his lips as he tried to sit up only to collapse back down on the bed.

“He’s awake. Make sure his stitches don’t open. We’ll talk another time.”

The creek of the door caught (Name)’s attention as he watched Leon walk in. He looked angrier than the last time he saw him but his more blank expression took over once he saw (Name) stare at him.

“Ashley..?”

“Gone. She ran away. But I know where she is. It’s the castle.”

(Name) only grinned. “When’d you get so manly Ashley?”

“… excuse me?”

“Oh, wait… you’re not Ashley.” (Name) reached up his right hand to touch Leon’s face only to see it bandaged. “Ah! What happened?”

“How are you feeling? Any pain?”

“Hmmmm, no? I feel sleepy.”

(Name) moved to lay on his side, using his hand to reach out towards Leon. Leon looked more preoccupied with whoever he was talking to in his ear piece. (Name) wasn’t sure. He felt hazy.

He used his non bandaged hand to grab at Leon’s belt, playing with it. Leon pushed his hand away but that only made (Name) reach for it again. The only answer after that was a grunt before Leon just left him to it, more worried about who he was talking to.

The sound of thunder outside caught (Name)’s attention. In the back of his head, he worried for Ashley. Just when he had her, he lost her. He couldn’t help the whimper he let out, pulling away from Leon’s belt.

He failed her.

Tears streamed down his face as he tried to curl into a ball onto cry out in pain instead. He felt a hand grab his arm and looked up at an angry Leon.

It seemed the only thing he did for Leon was make him angry.

“No sudden movements. Those stitches aren’t professional. They can’t withstand much before breaking.”

“Sorry…” (Name) whispered. So pathetic. He should’ve just stayed home. Maybe he wouldn’t have caused such problems. His father was smart, he could’ve handled it.

Leon simply hummed before pulling away. (Name)’s face was still fresh with tears and they wouldn’t stop. He turned his face away from Leon, not wanting him to see him like this.

He did have some sense of pride on not being seen as weak. His military training was for nothing if carvings on his back killed him like this.

But he never really tried to fight whatever those things were.

(Name) stiffened when he felt Leon’s hand on his head. He waited for a moment, his breathing slowed as Leon awkwardly rubbed his hair as if he was a dog. Then Leon simply pulled his hand away.

He didn’t say anything before walking away, muttering about making sure no one had found the house. (Name) sniffled as he thought about what just happened. He was been used to people not touching him. That’s what he was.

An untouchable guy who killed with ease as a veteran at such a young age. Making his pops proud. Only Ashley really tried to get him to open up. Stop relying on his skewed view of a man to make himself feel better.

He was still crying. But it was for something else. The touch of someone other than Ashley felt nice. It felt good. No matter how awkward it was.

Maybe Ashley was right calling him a touch starved mouse. Though she only called him a mouse because of how he sounded during jump scares in horror movies.

(Name) wiped away his tears. He could worry about his mental problems later. Ashley being alive mattered more. But he couldn’t exactly move.

“Leon.” He called out.

Much to his shock, Leon was immediately there. He looked a bit panic at first before calming himself when he noticed that nothing was wrong.

“What?”

“You should go to Ashley. We don’t know how much time she has left.”

“No can do. I can’t leave you.”

“I’m not your mission. I came here on my own accord. I’ll meet you guys later.”

“Meet us later? You can’t even bend. How can I know you can fight? Let alone run.”

“Ashley matters more.”

“Ashley won’t be pleased to hear I had you and then lost you just as quickly. She’ll be happier and more likely to listen to you than me.” Leon said.

What he said felt final. (Name) didn’t feel like he could rebuttal him. Maybe it was the way he said it. His stance. His eyes. But he was a bit scary to argue with so (Name) shut his mouth. That seemed to please Leon as his anger was gone as soon as it came.

He looked out the window, possibly looking out for anything before checking how much ammo he had left.

“Where’s your gun?”

“Dunno. They took it maybe. My knife isn’t here either.”

“Okay. In an hour or two, we’ll head straight to where Ashley is. I’ll handle any heavy lifting.”

“The weather?”

“It should be clear soon. But if not, we may have to just go. They won’t stop their plans just because of the weather.”

Leon sat down on the bed as he contemplated about what to do. He never planned on having to worry about two people. This mission was going wrong at every turn. He hadn’t mentioned to Hunnigan about (Name) being here.

It wasn’t exactly a good time earlier and the quick call with her just a moment ago ended abruptly. It must’ve been done by the mole or the weather. But now he had no connections to anyone.

He was on his own.

“Leon… I’m sorry.”

(Name) felt himself flinch when the blonde glanced over at him. His face was unreadable. He didn’t say anything, as if waiting for (Name) to explain himself further.

“For coming. Here, y’know. It wasn’t smart. I wasn’t known for my brains anyway.”

“I’m not your daddy. You can explain yourself to him when you see him later,” Leon grinned. “Just rest for now. You’ll be moving nonstop later.”

(Name) watched as he walked away. He felt an odd sense of relief. Yeah, he would be seeing his ‘daddy’ later to explain himself. He wished he could get grounded again.

Maybe feel like a kid that he never got to be.

ꕤ

The plan to leave in an hour or two was swiftly forgotten when (Name)’s stitches came undone when he got up to use the restroom. He cried out in pain, leaning on the wall as Leon ran to him.

Now he was here, on the bed with his back facing Leon as he tried his best to redo the stitches. Whatever Ada had done was clearly done to just stop him from bleeding out. She hadn’t really taken the time to clean it out. The feeling of wet wipes on his back was not comfortable.

He continuously grunted in pain, wishing he hadn’t gotten this hurt. He just felt so weak. Leon was silent the entire time, stopping whenever (Name) let out a particularly painful cry.

It was better being unconscious when the stitches were done.

(Name) wasn’t sure if it was the blood lost, the drugs, or the touch of Leon’s hand on his back—he felt a sudden rush of blood in his penis. He hadn’t really ever been touched. Which is no shock.

Who would touch a veteran who had been groomed into acting out the worst traits of toxic masculinity. He had stopped two years ago but it still put a damper on any relationship he could’ve had.

Maybe that’s why the touch of Leon was making him act this way. Like a teenage boy who was getting touched by his crush. The hands moved around before lowering down a bit. It made (Name)’s whole body twitch.

Leon’s hand lingered on his lower back, gently rubbing the dip into his ass. The only skid I’m the room was (Name)’s heavy breathing as he tried to calm himself down.

“Leon…—”

A loud bang caught their attention as Leon maneuvered (Name) to hide in the closet. (Name) was sure Leon was about to close it but he was wrong as he joined him inside, closing it shut. Their bodies were pressed together, (Name) only reaching Leon’s shoulder.

He hesitantly rested his head on his shoulder, hoping Leon would be too focused on the intruder to care about him acting this way.

Unbeknownst to (Name), Leon was looking at him from the corner of his eye. He wrapped one arm around his waist, tugging him close. Using his free hand, he kept it on his gun, ready to shoot if anyone tried to open the closet door.

Leon tried to ignore (Name)’s growing erection. At least he wasn’t the only one having physical attraction to the other. He made sure his hand on (Name)’s waist didn’t dip any lower than it needed to be. Even if (Name)’s more… plump ass was right there to squeeze.

A shadow from the outside covered the crack in the closet. Leon was ready, hovering his finger over the trigger as the door was swung open. He aimed his gun at the person’s head only to realize it was Luis.

“Wow, hey! Don’t get all trigger happy on me, Leon!”

“What the…?”

“Oh, who’s this?”

(Name) felt tired. He simply sighed and felt himself fall asleep, tucked into Leon’s arms.

He’ll handle this new weirdo after his Power Nap.

“Uh, did he just fall asleep?”

╭┈─────── ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

╰┈─➤ ＥＮＤ

Changed some things… ended up with a full on plot 🤭 I got carried away lol hope I did Leon justice <3

Pt 2? Smut would happen next time. I tried to do it here but it just didn’t make sense right now—gotta go through another near death then you fuck, fanfic rules

Tag list: @the-ultimate-librarian @chill-guy-but-cooler @kiiyoooo @mello-life69 ( @dabisbratz bcs I know you love Leon)

[roanofarcc]

PROJECT SUNSHINE CHAPTER SIXTY FIVE → BUT SHE’S A CHEERLEADER!

summary: steve harrington x oc

when another product of Hawkins National Laboratory escaped a long-survived nightmare alongside her sister, she crashed into one unsuspecting teenage boy and dragged him deeper into the dark mysteries that made up their hometown.

word count. 3.7k || masterlist

warnings: cannon typical violence, child abuse, horror, gore, and depictions of mental illness. parts of this story were written pre-season 4 release. cannon divergence.

previous chapter ← → next chapter

Tagged: @sattlersquarry, @leptitlu, @two-sides-samecoin, @adaydreamaway30

Steve hauled another stack of VHS tapes into his arms as Robin paced back and forth, not helping him reshelve the movies but instead ranting about her latest date with Tamera. 

“All I’m saying is, this one felt different! It was less ‘we’re just hooking up’ and more ‘this could be an actual relationship,” she said. Steve listened intently as he slotted a collection of horror movies back onto the shelf. He didn’t understand why anyone would willingly watch those kinds of movies, but he supposed most people in Hawkins hadn’t lived their own real-life version of a horror movie like he had. Maybe they needed the thrill; Steve did not. 

He turned around to grab more tapes but stopped at the look twisted up on Robin’s face, something mixed between unsure and worried. “Isn’t that a good thing? You guys could date for real instead of whatever weird back and forth thing you’ve got going on.” 

Steve knew it was more complicated for Robin and Tamera, especially in Hawkins but they could at least admit their feelings for each other. Robin clearly liked Tamera and wanted something more real than whatever causal situation they found themselves in. Granted, Robin had never been in a relationship before and she had confided in Steve that the idea of dating someone was nerve wracking to her. But she deserved to be happy, and Tamera clearly made her happy. Steve wished she just went for it, all in. 

“Yeah,” Robin said with a sigh, stopping her pacing and resorting to picking at the nail polish Steve had just painted on her nails two days ago. “But even if we do date for real, it’s not like I can take her to the prom without being a headline in the Hawkins Post. If any asshole caught a whiff of us being together, they’d start a witch hunt or some shit.” There was a shield of humor in her voice, but Steve knew Robin well enough to hear the fear that sat behind it.  It pissed him off. 

He knew that Hawkins was riddled with assholes of every kind, but the thought of someone coming after his best friend just because she wanted to date happily made him furious. Monsters and evil scientists once inhabited Hawkins but people wanted to draw pitchforks at two girls holding hands. 

“That’s not happening on my watch, Buckley,” he said with a cheeky smile, bumping his shoulder against hers as he collected another arm full of tapes. 

Robin cracked a small smile before parting her lips like she was going to say something, but something behind Steve caught her eye. She squinted and stepped around him, rushing toward the front counter. 

“What’re you doing?” Steve asked. 

Robin turned the volume up on the TV, causing a familiar Hawkins newscaster’s voice to fill the quiet Family Video store. 

“No names of possible suspects are being released at this time. Chief Powell is yet to make an official statement, but as said he will address the town later this afternoon once he knows more. All we know at this time is that it seems to be an isolated incident.” The scene on the TV shifted away from the newscaster and onto a gurney being wheeled down a dirt and gravel road swarmed by officers and paramedics. There weren’t many places in Hawkins that were unfamiliar to Steve. It only took a moment to recognize where the scene took place as trailer homes appeared in the background of the gurney being lifted in the back of an ambulance. 

“Someone died?” Robin questioned with furrowed brows. 

“The name of the victim will also not be released at this time, but it has been confirmed to be a Hawkins High student. We…” the reporter’s voice droned on, but it became fuzzy on Steve’s ears. 

A Hawkins High student. The trailer park. Steve knew it wasn’t rational to jump to the worst possible case scenario. There were a handful of students who lived in the trailer park, but he only knew one for certain. Max. Out of everyone in Hawkins, the worst things tended to happen to their little group. And maybe it was simply unreasonable paranoia, but he couldn’t help that his mind fell there first. 

Panic swelled in his chest as he turned to Robin. “Max,” he muttered, ready to run right out the door and make sure the redhead he somewhat begrudgingly saw as a little sister was okay. Robin sensed his worry, her own face suddenly as pale as her white knuckles that gripped the remote. 

Steve reached for his keys he left in a space under the counter, but as he did so, the bell on the door chimed and Robin let out a loud breath as she grasped his shoulder and pointed to the people who had just entered. 

Dustin and Max rushed toward the counter, both looking a little winded but otherwise fine. Steve let out his own sigh of relief, running a hand through his hair. How he didn’t have gray hairs already was a mystery to him. It felt like the universe was determined to see how much it could stress him out. 

“How many phones do you have?” Dustin asked. 

Unbelievable, Steve thought. “Someone was murdered-” he started to say, but Dustin, in his usual Dustin fashion, cut him off and repeated the question louder than he had the first time. Steve answered, “Two.” 

“Technically three, if you count Keith’s,” Robin added. 

Max glanced at Dustin, nodding her head almost frantically as she said, “Three works.” 

Without another word, Dustin threw his backpack at Steve a bit too forcefully. He then jumped up on the counter ungracefully, knocking over everything setup to the floor as he slid to the other side and hopped down. Steve threw the kid’s backpack to the ground with a huff and Robin started picking up the scattered papers, tapes, and other items Dustin had sent toppling. 

Max, like a normal person, walked around the counter to get behind it and rolled her eyes. 

“What are you doing?” Steve groaned in a familiar frustration. 

“Setting up a base of operations.” He moved in front of the computer and began clicking around. 

Listen, Steve disliked his job, but he didn’t want to get fired. The pay wasn’t great, but he got to work with Robin. Keith was a grade-A asshole, but he spent most of his time either not in the store or tucked away in the backroom playing video games brought from home. If Steve wanted to save enough money to escape Hawkins, he needed to keep his job, but the kids liked to make that a lot harder than it should have been. 

“Get off,” Steve snapped. “You guys aren’t even allowed to be back here.” He didn’t know why he tried; it wasn’t like they were going to listen to him. 

Dustin replied, “I need it!” 

“For what?” Robin asked, shuffling the fallen papers back into a neat pile. 

“Eddie’s friends’ numbers.” 

If it was possible to roll your eyes so hard they fall out, Steve would have done just that. The mere mention of Eddie pricked his skin, no matter how stupid he knew he was being. “Oh, you mean your new best friend who you think is cooler than me because he plays your nerdy game?” 

Dustin dramatically swung his head to look in Steve’s direction and threw his hands up. “I never said that!” He definitely did, Steve was almost positive. 

“Seriously, guys? Maybe on Monday you can play around here but it’s Saturday. It’s our busiest day,” Robin said. The Family Video store was set to get busy in an hour or two as the weekend rush filled in, looking for movies to watch for date night, sleepovers, and to cure loneliness. 

Dustin returned his attention to the computer, scrolling through a list of customers that had rented from the store before. “I empathize with you, Robin,” he said. “But this can’t wait.” 

“Oh my god,” Steve muttered. What he needed was Sunshine to come home and make the kids actually listen. They only seemed to care about what she had to say or told them to do, but she was still in Indy, much to his disappointment. And now there was a murderer in Hawkins, which made him feel even better. 

“Calling Eddie’s friends is an emergency?” Robin questioned. 

“Correct.” 

Steve moved beside Robin and helped her reorganize the tapes into their correct piles. He asked her, “Do you want me to strangle him, or do you want to?” 

“We could take turns?” 

With an annoyed huff, Dustin asked Max, “Can you fill them in while I do this?” 

Steve and Robin exchanged a confused look before the latter said, “Fill us in on what?” 

→←

The car ride back to Hawkins was tense and quiet, nothing the radio softly playing as the world whirled by. Sunshine fingers had played with the neckline of her shirt, where her necklace should have been, so much that the stitching started to come loose. 

She, Kali, and Calum had changed clothes at some lonely gas station just outside of Indy. Their bloodstained clothes were tossed in a dumpster and forgotten. 

As they rolled past the ‘Welcome to Hawkins’ sign, a headache bloomed behind Sunshine’s eyes. She winced and grasped her head, pressing her fingers into the skin in an attempt to ease the pain just slightly by applying pressure. 

“Where are we going now?” Kali asked, looking for directions as she eyed the road with a hard-set gaze. Her knuckles were white as she held onto the steering wheel. 

Checking the time on her watch, Sunshine knew where Steve and Robin would be for certain. 

She should have arrived home sooner, but it took them more time to escape Indy than she thought. They had to stop once to change their clothes, a second time to eat something, and a third because no one could keep their eyes open long enough to drive safely. After a quick nap, they hit the road in the morning, but Kali avoided the interstate and opted for backroads just in case someone was on their tail. By that time, Sunshine was more than ready to be home. 

“Steve and Robin will be at work. We’ll stop there first before we try to tack down Nancy,” she answered. “Stay on this road until you hit the next stop sign, then make a right.” 

Kali nodded and continued on through her clear discomfort for being back in Hawkins. 

Glancing in the rearview mirror, Sunshine saw Calum, who hadn’t uttered a word since their confrontation in the alley. He sat with his head turned and eyes fixed out the window, lost somewhere inside his head. There was a lot they needed to figure out, both in the grand scheme of things and between the three of them. Sunshine sure the best place to do that was in Hawkins. 

For the longest time, she had felt the need to carry everything on her own shoulders, but since relearning what a normal life was, she had learned to lean on others inside of drowning. They only solved things together, not alone. They defeated monsters together, not by themselves. As long as everyone worked together, she was sure they could put a final end to the Lab and everything else that had occurred as a result of it. 

Sunshine took a deep breath before she turned around and spoke to Calum. “Are you coming with us?” Her voice was careful but not too kind. 

He didn’t look away from the window as he said, “If we find my dad, can I at least talk to him?” His voice, on the other hand, sounded of a hurt child, abandoned and spirit broken. 

Sunshine glanced at Kali, who sighed in response before saying, “I can’t make any promises.” Calum’s figure slumped. “But I won’t say no.” 

It wasn’t much, but in Sunshine knew anything about Calum, if you gave him an inch, he’d try to take a mile. “Okay,” he said, flatly, in agreement to tag along. 

The car fell back into silence, aside from Sunshine’s directions. The sky was bright blue, the kind of color that brought hope after a long and gray winter. Maybe it was a warm welcome home. Her heart was happy to be back with those who she shared it with, but her head arched uncomfortably. She blamed it on a lack of restful sleep and her bout of angry emotions clouding her being. 

“Um, guys?” Calum piped up, leaning between the two front seats with an odd sense of urgency and he squinted out the windshield. He pointed ahead at a helicopter that appeared overhead, a blemish in the pretty sky. The helicopter hovered for a moment, not too far away, just beyond a cluster of trees. They watched for a moment before it started to descend. “That’s a military copter.” 

“How do you know that?” Kali asked. 

“They’re not exactly subtle.” 

Sunshine furrowed her brows. She had only seen a military helicopter once, after Starcourt. Owens and his “backup” had arrived in helicopters. After relocating the Byers-Hopper clan, Owens fell off the map. If he was back in Hawkins, Sunshine felt like she would know about it. Or she had missed something major in the twenty-four hours she had been gone. And with Hawkins' track recorded, that wasn’t impossible. 

Still, she asked the question all three of them were thinking, “Why would the military be in Hawkins?” 

Calum shook his head. “Because this place fucking sucks.” 

Sunshine all but sprinted through the doors of the Family Video store. The bell dinged, signaling a customer's arrival. The usual monotone drone of Steve or Robin’s greeting before they realized it was her and not a regular customer didn’t sound. Instead, a collection of voices filled her ears, and she was welcomed by the sight of Max, Robin, and Dustin all talking on phones. 

It was Max who noticed her first, as she hung up her phone. “Oh, thank God,” the redhead said. 

Steve’s head popped up from behind one of the shelves he seemed to be restocking, and a grin filled his face before he made his way over to Sunshine. Without a word, she hugged him tightly, relief flooding her veins after her troublesome twenty-four hours. He was warm and smelled like a mix of candy, dust, and cologne. Though it had only been a day, she realized how intertwined he and the rest of the group had come in her day-to-day life. 

A low chuckle sounded from Steve before he pressed his lips to the crown of her head. “Miss me that much, Sunshine?” 

She really didn’t want to let go of him, and she wanted to pretend that two people weren’t dead and it was more or less partly her fault. The more she had thought about it, they were probably followed, leading whoever was killing the people from Lab right to the two men. They were playing the same game of revenge as Kali, but Sunshine hadn’t agreed to play. She just wanted answers and to understand the memories she had somehow forgotten. Was it another kid from the Lab like Kali? Was it someone who had worked at the Lab themselves? There were so many unanswered questions it made Sunshine dizzy. 

Leaning back just slightly from her boyfriend, he caught sight of the frown on her lips, which gave her away almost instantly. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked. 

A lot of things, she wanted to answer, but she refrained as Robin hung up her phone with a loud ‘clang’ and said, “Calum?” 

The boy stood awkwardly with his hands in his pockets, leaving a good distance between himself and Kali. “Hey…” 

“Guys! We need to focus!” Dustin shouted. He shot a small smile at Sunshine. “We’re glad you're back, but we’ve got a problem on your hands that we gotta take care of.” 

Sunshine tried to shake off her own issues for a moment, turning her focus on what Dustin had just said. “Problem? What problem?” A pit had been stuck in her stomach since yesterday, but she hoped it would lessen once she arrived home, not get worse. But any issue in Hawkins was almost never small. 

Slinging an arm around Sunshine’s shoulder, pulling her into his side. Between him and Robin, they explained how there had been a murder that morning and Max was almost certain the victim was Chrissy Cunningham, a polite cheerleader who Sunshine had passed by in the halls of Hawkins High. The last person the cheerleader had been seen with, according to Max, was Eddie Munson. Despite that, Dustin was certain Eddie didn’t kill Chrissy. 

“Yeah, there’s no way,” Calum added. “I’ve been in the Hellfire Club with Eddie since freshman year. He’s not a murderer. An asshole sometimes, sure, but not a murderer.” 

Max piped up and said, “But we don’t know that for sure. Which is why we’re trying to find him and figure out exactly what happened last night.” 

Kali, who had been quiet, looked at Sunshine. “So, there’s a murderer on the loose?” 

Of course there was. She begged Kali to come to a place that held the worst years of her life with a promise that it was safer now, only to drag her back into a possibly dangerous situation. She wanted to curse the universe for its awful timing. 

“Not exactly…” Dustin looked hesitant, like he didn’t want to say whatever he was about it. 

“Then what, exactly?” Kali asked. 

He looked between her and Sunshine. “I’m sorry, who is she?” 

“Oh, right,” Sunshine said with a shake of her head. “Everyone meet Kali. Kali, meet everyone.” It was a less than enthusiastic introduction given the circumstances. 

“Kali? Like the Kali who Luke and Leia used to live with?” Max asked, eyes wide. Sunshine nodded in response. 

“Is she up to speed?” asked Dustin. 

It was Sunshine’s turn to be confused. “On what?” 

“We think, maybe, it wasn’t someone who killed Chrissy,” Max started to explain. “We think it might have been…something…” 

Max’s words were heavy, hitting Sunshine with an unknown force she hadn’t been expecting. The headache behind her eyes pulsed, as if it had a heartbeat. Steve’s arm around her shoulder shifted as he said, “Hey.” He brought his hand up to her face, running his thumb under his nose with a face full of pinched concern. When he pulled it away, blood stained the pad of his finger. “Your nose is bleeding?” 

Muttering under her breath, she broke away from Steve and reached for a tissue on the counter. Eyes fell onto her, but none more than Max, who stared at Sunshine with her wide blue eyes almost uncomfortably intense. 

Sunshine tried to shake off any concern. “It was a long night,” she said, blaming her less than ideal trip to Indy as the reason for her nosebleed. They started happening randomly after Starcourt, following the overuse of her abilities. Dr. Owens had blamed it on stress, and Sunshine didn’t have any reason to think otherwise. 

The blood stopped flowing after a moment and she returned her attention to the group. Level headed. She needed to stay level headed. She couldn’t lose it when one of her peers was head and the kids were already ready to get involved. She had promised Kali that Hawkins was different now, and she foolishly tricked herself into believing the same, that maybe that time, the monsters were really gone for good. 

“We shouldn’t jump to conclusions yet,” Sunshine said, looking between Max and Dustin. 

The latter countered. “We don’t exactly have a great track record of something weird not being…you know, almost the end of the world. Something could still be happening here.” 

Robin shook her head. “Even with the gate-thingy closed?” 

Dustin shrugged his shoulders. “The rules we play by are D&D rules, right? But we don’t really know the rules the Upside Down plays by.” 

The mere mention of the Upside Down made her sick to her stomach. Her muscles constricted, remembering the pain of what she felt last summer, holding off the Mind Flayer. 

“I still think we could be jumping the gun here,” Steve said. “We don’t know anything yet.” 

“That’s why we need to find Eddie,” said Max. 

“I know where he probably is,” Calum sighed. “Trust me, there’s only one place he could be.” 

Everyone rushed to gather their belongings to set out in their search for Eddie. Sunshine shoved a handful of tissues in her pocket as Kali approached her. 

“I’m sorry,” were the first words out of Sunshine’s mouth. Her shoulders slumped with tiredness and defeat. “I didn’t know this is what we’d come back to. If you want to leave, I get it.” 

Kali still looked indifferent with her arms crossed over her chest and her black makeup smudged under her dark eyes. “I will never understand your and Jane’s loyalty to this place,” she started. “The Lab is responsible for the messes here. The monsters Jane had told me about, the Upside Down. Yet, you’re still here, cleaning up after them. Why waste your time?” 

Sunshine looked past Kali, looking at Dustin and Max who shouldered their backpacks with steeled determination fixed on their young faces that had seen too much. She looked at Steve, who smiled when he realized she caught him looking at her. And she looked at Robin, who mumbled to herself as she quickly worked to close down the store so they all could leave and look for Eddie, risking her employment for the second time in less than a year to help them out. 

“We’re not loyal to Hawkins,” Sunshine said. “It’s about the people. Our friends. Our family. And because…” she trailed off with a sigh, wearing a sad smile. “Because no one else will.” 

The group all headed for the door, ready to go. Kali shifted in her boots, thinking. “Your friends are leaving,” she said. “We should get going.” 

Sunshine blinked, confused. “You’re coming with us?” 

“For now.” 

That was good enough for Sunshine. 

[petervintonjr]

Chime in here, men. And I DO mean, men.

Coming out of my extremely-prolonged social media silence here to address my fellow men, here. This public post is aimed at anyone and everyone who identifies as a man, uses masculine pronouns. 'Cause, fair or unfair, there's a bit of a societal responsibility that comes with that designation.

Gentlemen, the Guys With Microphones (and their popular YouTube channels and their rural radio stations) kinda won the day, here. Their arrogance and their swagger and their braying about being "the real victims here" really resonated with a LOT of people, it seems. 50-year old incels who constantly post lengthy "coaching" screeds about why Real Men(TM) should only date teenage girls (and shouldn't use birth control), are feeling extremely validated. They've been creating an absolute din and they're only going to be emboldened to get even louder and more dangerous.

WE have a responsibility to stop this unleashed misogyny. And no, I don't mean grab our always-at-the-ready pitchforks and torches and go administer some righteous mob justice. That's too easy. I mean detecting this incel/abusive behaviour EARLY from our fellow males, and challenging it. Right then and there. Regardless of who he is or his perceived status or if other guys in earshot are cheering him on. THAT's the scarier part, the part of the task that's going to require some actual courage. It's one thing to pile onto an anonymous comment thread that's making fun of some self-declared "alpha" loser with pimples and a MAGA hat. It's quite another to firmly call out that affable co-worker that everyone likes, or Director Bob, or Pastor Jim. Or Athlete Stu or Officer Brett or good old Veteran Mike. Or Landlord Hal.

Or CEO Charlie.

But that IS our responsibility. Keep your eyes and ears open and SHUT THAT S**T DOWN. Decisively. A look of disgust and an unmistakable "Dude, did you REALLY just say that? What are you, five?" challenge. Or a clear-as-vodka "Not cool, man. You sound like a freakin' pedo, what's wrong with you?" Or a revolted "Christ, do you talk like that in front of your customers? I'm surprised you still have any." Or just plain "You talk about other people's genitals a LOT, like, a WHOLE lot, do you know that?" Play the 'ol public embarrassment card ...knowing full well it may swiftly reverse-Uno back on your gallant well-intentioned ass and leave you standing alone in a roomful of self-righteously angry dudes whose confidence just got pricked. Actions such as these DO paint a target upon one's back.

And oh yeah, don't expect thanks or praise from any of the women in your life; there's a very good reason most of them have by now cheerfully chosen the bear. (And don't pretend you don't know what I'm referring to, there.) Stop this threat BEFORE it turns into a crime and just accept that as its own reward. Suffocate these predators in their crib, so to speak, even if you're the only one that knows anything was even done. That gushy "How can I EVER repay you?" fictional trope is just that: fiction. (If we MUST invoke fiction, then at the very least be like Doctor Who or Spider-Man: save the day and clear out.)

So to restate the premise: I need to hear from my fellow men, here. The ones the media is falling all over themselves to apologize and pander to for "neglecting" and "marginalizing." All of the women in my orbit have already made their thoughts ABUNDANTLY clear about all of this; they are now taking the next appropriate steps, and they are 100% right to do so. Leave them be; they've enough to deal with. I'm interested to know what YOU are going to do, in your societal role as men, to help in all of this.

[chaoticyumelikes]

20 days ago someone asked me for this but unfortunately Tumblr ate the ask so I don't remember the user 😔 but remembered the ask! So here goes:

The Devil x Gn! Angel Reader

Well, well, well, how WAS your fall?

Well he used to be an angel too before he was unceremoniously kicked out due to... Heh... History. So color him surprised when he sees an angel of all things in his domain.

He had to rescue you from getting bullied by the regular denizens of the Underworld where they wanted to clip away your fluffy feathered wings. With the rise of an eyebrow while he looked at you, judging you and asking you what are you doing in the Underworld. Have you fallen from grace? Took a wrong turn in the geological or morality compass? It matters not, your presence will be met with irritation, annoyance and if you happen to be a true angel inside as well as out, you will be straight up irksome to him. So naturally he will keep you as a pet.

He misses Heaven though he will never ever admit it. So guess what? You're not going back. Suffer as he has... Kinda. He cannot be overly cruel to you... If you play your cards right of course. But he will never let you go back. You landed on his turf so evidently you belong to him now. If you behave nicely he will give you some freedoms such as walking around his abode without escorts but do NOT stray from him, "Not every demon is as handsome and compassionate as me, dear." He swears he developed a sixth sense when you (accidentally or not) stray a bit much to his liking. He gets snappy with everyone till he reaches you and (gently) grabs your hand to move you next to his throne before he incinerates everyone. Heck, the demons learn this very quickly, so any meetings with their boss they will look for you and kindly ask you to join (you're an angel, so you won't refuse the shivering demons' request...)

On the off chance you are an angel that he used to know be prepared to be relentlessly mocked by him, and him alone.

Not many get to interact with you as they fear their lord's wrath and consequently his pitchfork. Henchman is the only obvious exception. He is far too devoted to his master and thus has the Devil's trust.

You thought you'd have to learn about the Devil by asking Henchman but to your surprise not only the Devil tells you of his life he sets up a whole theatre act around it. When you genuinely clap at his performances his grin could not have been bigger. Finally! Someone of culture!

You bet that after you applaud him you just sealed your fate. He will try to convert you to his ways. He wants you always by his side being his "Yes-angel". Of course, since you are your own person/angel fights are gonna happen when you disagree even the tiniest bit.

Be ready for his tantrums. His very fiery, very dramatic, 6-year-old-worthy tantrums. Fortunately, since you are an angel you have powers, so you can block his fire (Henchman and King Dice have used you as a shield more than once. Not just as a flame shield but they believe their boss grows a bit soft at your general presence and you are a literal angel, you'd protect them anyhow... Right?)

Out of curiosity, he will investigate the why of your fall. Was it a logistical error that you were sent to Hell and not Heaven? Or something else. Won't ever tell you if he finds out though. You'll never know he is investigating your past either. You will suspect it however when his teasing gets a bit more personal tho.

Has pet your wings more than once. His wings were fluffier and prettier than yours (his words) but he misses his wings sometimes (would never let anyone know). If you envelop him in your wings... He complains all the while getting comfortable and sighing. Will even feign a glare or two, but you can see totally he doesn't really mean it.

Do not EVER give the Old Scratch a ride from you. For one he can fly, another reason is... You'll have to give him rides EVERYWHERE. Should you refuse him... He will become so dramatically heartbroken which in turn plays your heartstrings to the sound of guilt and... Dammit it works.

Despite his constant complaining he enjoys your company a lot. He even starts seeing you as an equal. He even starts falling for you (after he mistakes it for allergies and keeps a distance from you but then he misses you and like a cat he will impose himself for you to give him all the attention).

You'll only ever believe he loves you when he protects you from his less loyal minions or lost souls unfortunate enough to even touch you. His wrath will know no bounds.

The Cuphead brothers once tried to "free" you by literally grabbing you and escaping the place. To the brothers' absolute surprise not only do you tell them you want to stay, the Devil himself gets vicious and unrelenting in getting you back he almost manages to get their souls. Fortunately, your immediate "surrender" and staying by his side manages to somewhat calm him. The brothers definitely make a mental note to never do that again EVER.

Do not expect this boss of demons to say he loves you. He has a reputation to uphold mind you. Nooo, you're the one that must take the initiative.... And after him teasing the sh*t out of you for even saying such a thing he will accept the relationship. Be prepared to be always in his arms in private. He has to be touching you almost constantly in some way, even if it is his tail wrapped around you. Will complain and mope around though (like a cat) if you say something about it.

Be ready to be covered in his fur as he is ready to have some of your feathers somewhere on him. Any witness that blurts out something about it it's immediately dealt with.

[panthera-tigris-venenata]

Mal/Jay for soulmark AU

First touch to your soulmate leaves a mark. It makes for interesting tales, on the Isle.

Something knocks on the window of the Bargain castle and Mal startles from her sleep: Surely, she was imagining it?

She lies motionless, listening, and again: A pebble against her window.

She throws off her cover and stalks over to the window, peeks out by the side of it: She doesn’t really expect a raging crowd with pitchforks or even just bored and bloodthirsty pirates under her – Maleficent’s – window, but one can never be too sure. But no, there is only one figure down below.

Only Jay, half hidden in the shadows.

She opens the window for him, waits for him to scale the wall like he usually does, but–

There is no sound. No movement.

Just Jay, holding his side and gesturing towards the back door that he shouldn’t even know about – Mal shivers as she hurries to open it. She doesn’t bother with a weapon or even her gloves, she barely remembers to grab an old jacket against the cold.

Barefooted, she runs through the halls of the Bargain Castle, prickling her ears for any sign that her mother noticed.

She hadn’t yet– she hadn’t.

Breathless and holding her breath anyway, Mal opens the door for Jay. He stumbles in immediately after, the metallic smell of blood with him. Mal scrunches her nose at that before zeroing in on Jay again.

She breathes in sharp when she realises how bad he looks: „Jay–“

He smirks at her – smirks at her! – and says: „Didn’t know where else to go.“

The smirk falls off his face soon after that, leaving only an expression of pain.

„Come inside,“ she urges, grabbing at his arm. It’s okay, because he has his leather jacket on, and barely anyone dares to spy on the Bargain Castle anyway.

„Who did this to you?“ she hisses as they start walking and she notices he’s limping too, holy Evil, he’s limping too–

She knows she should be quiet so as not to temp mother’s attention, but she thinks she needs to know what happened to him more.

„Hell Hall,“ he forces through his teeth and first of all, that’s a what, not a who and also:

„Why the fuck were you at the Hell Hall?!“

„Father,“ he says, „Less talk and more saving me?“

He tries and fails to smirk again.

She… can do that. She supposes she can do that.  So she grits her teeth together and leads him to her room as fast as he can walk, which is a good deal slower than she would like.

Fucking Hell Hall of all places, what was Jafar thinking?!

Nothing much, she supposes, and look at Jay now. Though if it hadn’t been a direct command but rather a stupid fucking idea of Jay’s to impress his ruin of a father, she‘s gonna skin him alive right after she is done with this.

Jay, that is.

…And Jafar too. Just for good measure.

Finally, they get back to her room and she guides Jay to an armchair her mother deposited in there, probably to have something resembling a throne for when she decides to grace her room with her mighty presence or what. It’s barely standing anyway and half-eaten by moths.

She helps Jay sit into it.

„Wait here,“ she says. She closes the door and hinges a broken broom under it to give herself at least an illusion of a barrier, and then she goes to get the first aid kit.

She has it stored high up, almost in the roof, wedged in between the beams along with all of her good shit – one of the few benefits of having a tower room, she supposes. And besides, she enjoys being high up.

She snatches the kit stored in a run down sac, grits the cloth in between her teeth and swings down; she lands almost directly in front of Jay. Nice.

„Nice move,“ he grunts out and she preens just a little.

„How bad is it?“

„Cruella’s bear trap,“ he indicates towards his leg and she hopes it isn’t broken, that it wasn’t just adrenaline holding him up.

„Knife.“ His side.

He moves his hand out of the way for her to have a look and shit, that’s bleeding, like, a lot. Mal is pretty certain that ain’t good.

But if she got her human anatomy right – and she should, she got an A from that class in Dragon Hall – no important organs were hit. 

She presses her hands to the wound as he didn’t have the good bloody sense to put his back and hisses: „Whose knife, Jay?!“

„Not telling you until after this,“ he has the audacity to tell her, „You might just get up and try to kill them, leave me to bleed to death in this fancy chair of yours.“

The fact that he is right doesn’t make it any less annoying.

„There are worse places to die, I suppose,“ he muses.

„Fuck you, Jay. And keep pressure on that yourself so I can actually do something about it, will you?“

Her hands are bloody when she pulls them away and she absentmindedly wipes them on her thighs. She opens her first aid kit: It’s not the best, but it’ll do. It’ll have to.

Just one more thing:

„Temporary damage control until you can get to any of the healers, or should I take care of it completely?“

„Completely. ’M not going to the port and Gothel’s been in a mood the last few weeks. Now get on with it– please“

Last few weeks, Mal is sure. About the same time she started gaslighting the Isle to believe the colour has always been in her hair, obviously.

She snickers at Ginny’s misfortune.

Now, cauterise the wound or stitch it up?

Both’s gonna hurt like a bitch.

She wipes her hands on her thighs again.

She’s always been clumsy with a needle, so, cauterisation it is. And the wound didn’t look that deep anyway, did it?

She pours some alcohol she haggled off the Mims onto a knife and sticks it into the nearest flame, holds it there until it’s burning hot: Jay obediently moves his hands away and bites down on his sleeve as not to scream.

Mal closes her eyes as the skin sizzles.

She pulls the knife away and pours more alcohol on the fresh scar, uses a bit of cloth to wipe down the blood.

Wait.

She’s pretty sure burns are not supposed to be this colour.

Like, at all.

Horrible idea settles on her mind and she wipes the blood of her own damn <i>gloveless</i> hands too.

She sits back at her heels and closes her eyes just so she wouldn’t need to look at Jay and their matching fucking soulmarks – 

She should– she should kill him. Let him die. Make the mark go away again, make her mother proud.

Why didn’t she do that?

Why?

Jay is still seething in pain, oblivious to what is happening and if she puts on the bandages now, the pain might blur into one for him. She moves mechanically.

Why doesn’t she let him die?

As she finishes wrapping his side, he comes back to himself and, noting her expression, he asks: „What’s wrong, Dragon?“ He slurs just a little.

She shows him her tainted hands.

„I should have let you die. I should have killed you while you were out of it,“ she informs him.

He tenses up, preparing to throw himself out of the window, she supposes, as he says, carefully: „You didn’t.“

She just shrugs. She has no excuse for herself.

„I didn’t,“ she echoes back at him.

„Can’t get rid of this pretty face,“ he jokes, and Mal throws the rest of the bandages at him. It’s not like they’re sanitary anyway. She could – should – still change her mind, doesn’t he know?

They stare at each other for few long moments that feel more like hours, really. 

Neither of them moves.

Jay slowly relaxes again.

She looks at her marked hands, folded in her lap.

„So,“ Jay offers finally, „Let's never talk about this again?“

That could work, she supposes. They don’t need to be promenading around, showing off their marks like certain people. They can pull this off.

„If you can handle not stripping down for every pair of pretty eyes,“ she jabs at him without her usual venom.

„I’m not sure however will the Isle live with that loss.“

Egotistical bastard.

She pulls at her hands, at her forever-tainted fingers and palms.

„…Gloves?“ he asks.

„Forgot them – because of you,“ she manages to say it in an accusatory tone, instead of the „Because you scared me, I was worried about you,“ that is on her tongue.

What she says is not a lie.

„I can get you new ones. For the trouble.“

Yeah, no.

„You’re going nowhere until we take care of that leg too,“ she informs him and he settles back into the chair without argument.

„And you didn’t tell me whose knife it was.“

He tries that bloody smile on her again and stretches out the leg.

With only a minute level of satisfaction, she pours the alcohol onto his open wounds.

He gasps at the pain and then says: „I’m– I’m actually not sure. Kind of a blur, y’know?“

Well, that just means Mal will have to deal with all of them, how lovely. 

„Stupid fucker.“

[berrypass-de-murdler]

2 - 97 Sister vs. Sister: The Final Showdown

Before I start this, I want to clear something up really quick...

The Murdle cartoon is not meant to be a joke or parody.

It is something I've devoted hours and hours of work into, picking apart every detail to make sure it's how I want it.

While the first episodes were very rough, rewriting book 2 has been a lot of work and I've put great care into making it as cinematic and enjoyable as it can possibly be.

I never skimped on the character designs (save the midnights and grayscale who are intentionally basic). I don't pull the designs out of my ass. I try as hard as I can to make sure they're all detailed, expressive, and unique.

Alienation hurts.

I know it's not aligned with the standard fanon and it's not for everyone. But I'm really sick and tired of people going out of their way to make sure that every other artist aside from me and my best friends gets recognition. It's not like I ignore other artists. I don't even deny that they're better than me at it. But seriously. This is the one thing that has brought me joy through an awful year and you're taking it away from me.

That is all.

Moving onto Murdle Advent Day 18,

The Amazing Aureolin struggles to wrap gifts for her kids!

DON'T READ THE EPISODES WITHOUT READING THE BOOKS!!

Everyone moves to the top of the building, where Radical Crimson stands. 

CRIMSON: YOUUU SICK FUCK… I WANTED NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU!! R. CRIMSON: Oh I know. I know EVERYTHING now. 

The helicopter wasn’t just carrying Rad. She reveals all six Graywalkers in cages - Shred, Scar, Bits, Scar 2, an unfamiliar one, and Cloud.

IRRATINO: No!

He runs over to them. They shriek and rattle, begging to be put out of their misery. 

R. CRIMSON: You did THIS? YOU DID THIS? CRIMSON: I’d do anything for the IRON TSAR. I thought you were the QUEEN of the ROYALS! R. CRIMSON: You are NOT a Royal. You’re a FREAK, ROSIE! YOU DESERVE TO BE ONE OF THEM!

The louder the redheads yell, the louder the Graywalkers cry.

R. CRIMSON: What you’ve done is evil. CRIMSON: No… what I’VE done is SMART. R. CRIMSON: It can be both. And I won’t let you get away with it. 

She throws the first punch, and they begin to brawl. Rad uses Rosie’s own scalpel against her, but is bombarded by mechanical arms. All Logico can do is watch - what is he supposed to do? Irratino tries his best to settle the walkers, who are wearing themselves out screaming. The unfamiliar one is large and covered in cuts, with one of its lifeless eyes exposed. Irratino approaches it, but it gets aggravated and lunges with a mighty roar. It manages to break through the cage, and makes a run for it! But there’s nowhere to go. It crashes into Scar 2’s cage, freeing it as well. 

LOGICO: THEY’RE BREAKING LOOSE!

The Crimsons don’t give a damn. They’re trying to kill each other. 

The 5th Walker pins down Scar 2, who breaks free with its rock-hard body and leaps into the helicopter. But #5 heads for Logico instead. Irratino jumps in the way and shoves the thing back, which causes it to instantly cower and corner itself on the edge of the roof.

GRAYWALKER: HHHROOOOORHH… RRRREEEEOWRRRRR!!! CRIMSON: This is what happens. This is what HAPPENS IF YOU DISOBEY THE DOCTOR’S ORDERS!!

She motions to kick the thing off, but Scar 2 tucks and rolls in front of it, holding a pitchfork!! It waddles towards its ‘creator’ threateningly, who is grabbed by Radical and hung over the edge.

Irratino runs down the stairs, hopping on one of Eminence’s horses. 

LOGICO: WAIT! Where are you going?? IRRATINO: I’m going to get help.  LOGICO: The Graywalkers! The CRIMSONS! IRRATINO: The walkers won’t hurt you. And I know you can stop the fight. LOGICO: How do you know?? IRRATINO: Trust me.

Logico weakly agrees, and Tino rides off. Logico runs back up and can’t believe what he’s about to do.

LOGICO: Monsters. I have to stop this fight. And I need your help. I don’t… have anyone else right now. Irratino says I can trust you. And I trust Irratino. So please… don’t kill me… 

A slimy hand reaches through a cage and pats him.

SHRED: WAHHH-GICO. SCAR: WRRA WRRRRRRAA! BITS: MORRRRRRRRR SCAR 2: SCREEEEEEEEEAA GRAYWALKER: RAAAAOORRRR!! CLOUD: …GUH!

Graywalker #5 sets them free, and they approach the Crimsons.

CRIMSON: YOU IDIOT… YOU UNDERESTIMATED MY POWER! Now my diabolical creations will kill you… R. CRIMSON: Maybe they will. But I am not, in ANY WORLD, LETTING YOU FUCKING GET AWAY WITH THIS!!!!

She slices Rosie’s real arm, and with a struggle, throws her off the edge. Logico in a split-second decision runs to catch her. But he’s too late. Dr. Crimson lets out a scream of agony as she tries to stick her metal arms into the side of the building with no avail.

R. CRIMSON: Fucking bitch.

Irratino is back. Real medics come to take the graywalkers. The goat wraps Logico in a tight hug, and as Radical flies away in her copter without a word, he cries, sobbing uncontrollably into Irratino, unable to help anyone or anything. 

Logico doesn’t know what to do when there’s nothing left to solve.

The end!

and as always, with infinite gratitude to Raven and Blue. I would have given up without you.

The power of Goat Lord compels you!

See you next time murdlers!

[intotherumiverse]

TW: opinions, mentions of smut, long rant

The Tumblr community doesn’t like fluff writers. Now before you grab your pitchforks and knives to come and attack me hear me out. I have been an SFW fanfic writer for 3 years and an NSFW writer for 1 and a half years. The difference in my notes is astounding. If I went to my NSFW page and posted a drabble, I’d reach 2k easily. But if I post a drabble here, it would get 400 maybe 500 likes? My blog has been up for the last 3 years and I barely reach 2k. I only started writing on other blogs for NSFW and am already surpassing my followers on this blog. Do you see what I mean? The interactions that NSFW blogs dramatically differ from the interactions of SFW blogs. And no, I’m not coming for anyone by making this post, I’m just saying that readers don’t like reading fluff. There are so many good writers on here and it's sad seeing they don’t have the interaction or notes that they deserve only cause they’re SFW. It’s so disheartening to log onto this account and maybe get 1, 2 requests but then go somewhere else and my inbox is flooded. I don’t know, it seems like the SFW community is getting pushed out of the fanfiction space slowly but surely. It’s so sad seeing all these fantastic creators leave because they’re not getting the motivation to write because no one is interacting.

[kalmiaphlox]

If You Give a Vampire a Polymorph Scroll Pt 2

Part 1 / AO3 Link / Masterlist

If you give a vampire a polymorph scroll, he's going to sow a little chaos. When he creates that chaos, he'll probably want someone by his side. When he has that someone, they are going to be very, very naughty.

Alternatively: Astarion turns Kalmia into a little lizard. They commit crimes and have fun because Astarion likes some chaos, and Kalmia will never deny him.

Main Tags: Tiny Dragon, blood drinking, payback, Catstarion, dancing on the beach, idiots in love

Hungry.

Food. 

Must eat. So hungry.

Why is that man talking to Astarion?

EatEatEat

The man approaches her and she pauses in her feeding. “Pretty thing that one is, are you a sorcerer? I've heard they carry dragons around to connect with their heritage, so the-”

Astarion has bristled, he doesn't like sorcerers. She knows that. “ Don't touch her. Now run along now, we aren't interested in company.”

Will Astarion eat him? I eat him . 

Very hungry.

“How much for the lizard? It's clearly defective, I can give you-”

Jumping up to his feet, Astarion grabs the man's collar, pulling them face to face, seething with hatred. “Fuck. Off. Before I gut you like the pig you are.” He flashes his pearly fangs in the moonlight, hand inching towards his dagger.

Why not just kill him? They can eat so good . 

FoodFood

The man stumbles back, slipping in the sand before running off for who knows where. 

She's tired of the mindlessness. 

Breaking the spell, Kalmia returns to herself, if a few pounds heavier. By the Gods, she ate too much.

Astarion startles, “How did you do that? I didn't stop the spell!”

Ugh, her head. It's so nice to think normally again. “ Irthiski , you do know beings that shape change can easily shrug off polymorph? I was being nice by playing along.”

“What?! But your mother-”

“ Mother is an ancient fucking dragon, her magic and whatever cheap scroll you used are very, very different. I'd expect a magistrate to read the fine print.” She brushes sand from her body. Oh, she will ache tomorrow. “Why didn't you kill that man? Are you going soft on me?”

“I don't know. I should- ugh, he tried to buy you. I should have torn his damn throat out.” He seems uncomfortable with the subject, strange when he rarely turns down a meal.

“Want to share or drop it?”

Raking a hand through his flawless curls, Astarion groans in frustration. It's always a sight when he's at a loss for words. “He just- He reminded me of some of my targets, from back then . I had a type you could say… before I moved on to literally anyone that would give me the time because it was quicker - didn't want to leave Cazador waiting.”

She had barely acknowledged that man, her damned brain too consumed with consuming. He hasn't spoken much about his targets in specifics, the only one she knows by name is Sebastian, but that's it. “I understand.” They both are struggling with words to say. It's a fragile subject, she'd hate to get it wrong. 

“I know you do. Why don't we go home? I'm more intere-”

“There's the monster! ” They were too engrossed in their conversation to see a mob coming their way. That man is back, with three other people in tow, ready for a fight. “My lady, get away from him! He's a vampire!”

How fucking dare they! Monster? Monster?!

She glares at the offenders, then looks back to Astarion, who is watching her carefully. “Can I kill them, irthiski ?”

He sighs and waves her off, “Knock them out, I'm hungry.”

“ All of them?”

“Ugh, yes. ”

Good enough. Kalmia strides towards the men, it's not quite “pitchforks and torches”, they're a little more prepared than that with some proper armor, weapons and a magic user.

Not that it means anything to her.

The man from earlier speaks, “My lady, are you unharmed? Come quickly to us, we will-” She sucker punches him, knocking the lad out instantly. The three others gape as she lunges for them, smashing two heads together, and punching the last one in the jaw.

Easy .

“My liege, dinner is served.” She bows dramatically with a wave of her hands.

Astarion inspects the bodies, tilting his head this way and that. “Hmm, you split his lip, and that one's cheek is busted. I'll have to deduct some points for the loss of blood. Otherwise, not too bad.”

“ Wux re vi inloil di tawura .” She says with a sniff. 

Pausing his inspections to translate, he chuckles. “Darling, presentation matters… but, I won't complain. Nothing beats having my meals served fresh .”

“You already did complain, but… whatever.” Stepping away to let him gorge, she stares out across the vast ocean, ships bobbing along with the waves and who knows what sea creatures lie beneath the peaceful view.

It'll be warm enough for those swimming lessons soon. She hopes Astarion will still want to (re)learn when they get the chance.

Shuffling behind her lets her know he's done, and turning around, Kalmia finds that Astarion is already taking care of the bodies. She hadn't expected him to fully drain that man , but, hmm… There's no need to push right now. “Want me to dump those?”

He flaps his hand at her, “I can handle it. Only seems fair that I clean up when you provided .”

Eugh, who is this man and what has he done to Astarion? 

She'll let the imposter stay though, they can still have fun.

When the bodies have been disposed of, Astarion sidles up to her with a soft smile, taking her hand and kissing the back of it. What a cute kitty. He always fills her with butterflies, a feeling she once thought long lost to her. 

Intertwining their fingers, Kalmia pulls him close. “Have you ever danced on the beach?”

“Can't say that I have. Do you want to dance?” He feathers the lightest of kisses along her cheek before nipping at the soft skin there.

“I thought you'd never ask!” She laughs, returning his kisses with a deep one, flicking her tongue across his lips. He's clearly hungry for more but she pulls away, “Dancing first, other fun later.”

He groans in an exaggerated manner, but takes the lead, one hand clasped with hers and the other around her waist, pulling her flush against him as they begin swaying together, just moving across the sand in rhythmic motion.

This is no ballroom waltz, it's just two people very in love slow dancing under the moonlight to the music in their head.

It's perfect.

Astarion closes his eyes, resting his cheek against hers. “I dont think I'll ever get tired of all this.”

“I sure hope not, irthiski .”

With a spin and dip, he supports Kalmia as they kiss once more. She feels very lucky at this moment to have not been born with wild magic capabilities, there would have been explosions from how sweet this scene makes her feel.

“Shall we head home, my love?”

“Yes.”

++++

Astarion is practically buzzing as he draws his stolen fabrics from his bags, inspecting each piece diligently for damage and dirt, before writing notes onto some loose parchment.

Kalmia loves the way his brow furrows in concentration and the twitch of his lips when scrutinizing a thread out of place, pulling at it with a look of utter disgust. He should use one of those magnifying glasses to help him pour over each and every filament in the fibers.

When the cloths meet his standards, he packs them away into the side room, where the door is near permanently closed. Only Astarion may enter now, his projects too precious for others to lay eyes on.

Ah, she loves him so dearly.

And she knows, without a doubt, that he returns all that love. Deeply, needily, happily, harshly. 

But he needs to pay the price of his actions. She allowed his prank to extend on much longer than it should have, and someone in the household had asked for a kitty.

Kalmia can provide.

“Mutatio Forma!” Her voice rings out, enveloping her nasty vampire in a purple mist that once dissipated, leaves a spitting cat with the plushest, whitest fur she has ever laid eyes on. 

His coat is fluffy without being poofy, and the tail is swishing around angrily, as he yowls, “What have you done to me? You vile fiend!” There is rage in those blood red eyes, shining like rubies against that gorgeous white face.

Kalmia squeals in delight. “Oh, look at you!! What a handsome boy!” 

He hisses, sharp teeth at the ready with back arched as she reaches forward to scratch under his chin. Any fight in him is lost, becoming a puddle of fur in her hands as he purrs louder than a certain dragon. 

Cradling her kitty in her arms, she takes him to their room so he can admire himself in the mirror. 

Of course, Astarion is absolutely enamored with himself in any iteration. “Look at that shine! Oh, I really do take care of myself.” Hopping down from the vanity, he winds between her legs, tail curling around her ankle as he does so. “Can't you brush me?” 

She obliges, pulling the comb from the bathroom and waiting for him to settle in her lap once she sits on the bed. He curls up tightly, having accepted his fate, while Kalmia runs through his wispy fur with the brush. The hum of his purr is so powerful it vibrates through her fingertips.

If it weren't for other matters, she would brush him until the sun burns out.  

-wux re vi inloil di tawura = you're a piece of work -Astarion is a Turkish angora here. I almost chose a ragdoll or Persian, but I think he'd be a bit more sleek

[roo-bastmoon]

Quickie (but important) thingies

I've got like 15 minutes in between CT scans so of course I'm on my phone checking on Jikook because the crazy obsession is baked into my DNA by now. Y'all caught me.

Good news: Jimin is linked back up on Spotify. Well done, ARMY, for raising the red flag high and helping get this fixed today!! Let's always have Jimin's and BTS' backs!

Interesting news: It seems that folks Shazamed JK's behind the scenes video and the song that came up is called H-Thirteen (I can't check because the hospital won't let me access YouTube links). Can anyone confirm?

Request: I'm totally not trying to gaslight, minimize, or police anyone's fandom experience. But it feels like folks are on a hair's trigger out here these days. I get it, especially when it comes to Jimin. He has suffered so many insults over the years.

But before we assume Jungkook is a thief or plagiarist, before we assume his music video will be raunchy, before we assume the worst of any member, could we just hold out a bit for more information? It is possible all these concept choices for Seven are an homage to Jimin and Face. (I'm going to especially think this is so, if the song in the background is number-coded to Jimin and Jikook.)

It seems to me that Jimin has always been Jungkook's inspiration--perhaps even his muse.

And I'm not saying we have to blindly trust or believe the best in everyone. (I mean, I do, but that's me.)

Honestly? I have no great love of Hybe at the moment. I have too many suspicions around all the things that happened after Jimin's Hot 100 #1. But the people who work there are just people; I'm sure most are good and some are jerks, just like anywhere.

The members are also human beings. And human beings are always works in progress.

So I just would like to ask that if something a tannie is doing seems alarming, we say "Hm, that seems alarming!" rather than scream with our whole chests that a member is actively trying to hurt or sabotage another member. Especially when we've had years and years of evidence that BTS really love and trust each other.

Look, every member has flaws; they will make mistakes--sometimes big ones, as they grow. And we have a right to criticize behaviors we don't like. But I guess because of my past family life, I am personally triggered whenever someone automatically assumes mal-intent without asking any questions or waiting for more info to come to light.

Not saying we have to love everyone, or we can't call a spade a spade. I guess I'm just recommending we give a little grace until we get the whole story. I see folks on the timeline who just love Jimin so much, who fear the worst because of the lack of transparency or explanations. My heart beats with you, but I encourage you to hold on a bit longer. Let's see what Jimin has to say about all this.

It's entirely possible that Jungkook saw the way Jimin's hard work and sexy style was amazing but unappreciated by the company and he decided to pay respect to that with his single because he knows he's got the social capital to insist on it.

It's possible that stylists and marketing teams think these looks are the hot, sexy, edgy trends for this year and went with it.

I suppose it's also technically possible that Jungkook decided to "rip off" Jimin's style... and go all-in on payola for radio (which isn't confirmed yet)... and also lean heavily into a straight-acting macho-man raunchy music video (again, not out yet) -- but until we are very sure of any of that, may I ask that we speculate instead of accuse?

If it turns out anyone did Jimin dirty, I promise you I will grab my torch and pitchfork and be second in line (behind Hobi) to rage. But for our own health as a community, and as individuals combatting our own stressors, could we... could we just hang in there and give ourselves some time to do our due diligence before we assume evil or selfish intentions? That's my request.

(Caveat: of course--your blogs, your rules. You get to say anything you want in your space and I will never police you. If I'm really worried about something you're saying or doing, I'll just ask you about it directly. But I won't shade you, I promise. I'm just gently asking us to withhold judgement until we figure out what actually is going on. I hope that sounds reasonable and not condescending. I truly do value different perspectives and would absolutely love to count every person in the Jikook tag as a friend, even if we wildly disagree on things. So please don't read this post as me trying to be harsh or holier than thou. I'm simply trying to say: let's judge based on what is, not on what appears to be true.)

Ah, time to put more dye in my veins. Got to go. Love to you all!

P.S. Jimin smiling so happily while killing it in TikTok challenges is panacea.

[randofics]

Amor en una caja

Luis Serra x Southern reader

You meet Luis after getting separated from Leon. Will his charm win over your heart?

18+ under cut!

**************************************************

You came to the island with Leon to save the President's daughter, and somehow you'd ended up separated from him after being chased by a horde of infected. You ran into a Spaniard man as you were sneaking through a village. He practically ran into you as he snuck around a corner. Jumping a few feet away you drew your pistol on him. Harshly you whisper to him. "Who are you?"

Holding his hands up in surrender he gave you a nervous smile. "Easy señorita, I'm a good guy." "How do I know you ain't working with em?" He hadn't expected your thick accent, it seemed to trip him up. "Um... well for one thing I'm running away from those guys too, so if I were working with them don't you think I wouldn't have to run from them?"

You lower your gun only to draw again when you see an infected behind him. He ducks as you kill it with a well-placed headshot. "Estúpida! They heard you!" You can hear their yelling as they run to check out the noise. Looking around frantically you spot an open window. "C'mon this way!" You leap through onto the old wood floor and proceed to sweep the rooms looking for anyone that may be inside. With it cleared you meet up with your new acquaintance in the small kitchen.

He's rummaging through the cabinets looking for something. "So what's your name señorita?" "It's y/n, what's yours?" With a can of something in hand, he bows introducing himself. "I am Luis Sera but you may call me Luis." He tosses you the can and you examine the label trying to figure out what it is. It's in Spanish and you don't even try reading it. But it looks like black beans maybe?

"Not the best time to ask but do you have a smoke?" "No, I've never smoked a day in my life." He shrugs leaning against the counter. "Are you here alone or did you have someone with you?" "I'm supposed to be with my partner Leon but we got separated." "Ah, Leon! I met him a little while ago!" You perk up at that. "Really? Where was he?"

"Well, last I saw him. He was with a young lady named Ashley, and they were heading through the village."

"They must not have succeeded in the extraction and got a new extraction point." You check your communicator, and sure enough, the original extraction point had changed. We need to move otherwise we won't make it." "Y/n I need to do something first. Both Leon and Ashley are infected, but it hasn't taken over yet. I need to get to my lab so I can make a slowing agent." You sigh but nod in understanding."I'll go with you as extra protection."

"Deal, now let's get out of here before they find us." Looking out the open window, you see that they're gone, and the coast is clear. Hopping out the window, you stay low and peek around the corner. "Go go go!" He runs across to another house as you follow. He looks around the corner for a split second before whipping back around with a tense and surprised look on his face. You move to look past him unintentionally boxing him in against the wall. You're none the wiser as you observe the old woman carrying a pitchfork with her back turned to you.

He tenses, keeping his arms flat to his sides as you lean around him. This close, he can get a good look at you. You're wearing a damaged flannel over a bulletproof vest and a plain white T-shirt. Your muddy and slightly torn bootcut jeans mostly cover your square-toe cowboy boots, and you aren't wearing makeup. You suddenly look up at him, locking eyes before realizing what you're doing. Moving away from him, you mouth a "Sorry."

You bend down, grabbing a stone and gesturing that you would throw it to distract her. Moving to the opposite side of the house, you toss the stone far enough that she could still hear it. When he gives you the thumbs up, you sneak around with him. He leads you away from the village and pushes back some brush, revealing the mouth of a small cave. You look at him skeptically as he bows, gesturing for you to go ahead of him. "Ladies first."

Rolling your eyes, you duck under the lip of the cave entrance with your flashlight in hand. "So, does this cave lead to the lab or something?" "Eh sort of. It gets us pretty close." After a few minutes of navigating through the cave, you reach an underground river with a place to jump across. You can see that the cave continues on the other side. As you're busy looking at the relatively calm water flowing past, you hear Luis running and see him jump across successfully.

"Hey Luis, take my gun and flashlight." Making sure the safety is on you toss them over. You didn't want them to get soaked if you didn't make it across. There was a low rock you could use to climb up if you fell in, and you weren't worried about being swept away in such a calm current. Backing up a few yards, you took a running leap. Your landing was successful, but the rocks suddenly gave out under you, sending you plunging into the dark water below.

It was freezing cold as you surfaced and swam for the rocks. Luis hopped down to help pull you up. You knew hypothermia would likely affect you if you didn't dry off quickly. You tore off your drenched flannel and vest, tossing them to the ground and looking your arms over for any scrapes. You gathered your hair and rung it out.

He could see your bra under the opaque fabric of your white shirt. His whistle in appreciation startles you, and you follow his gaze to your chest, covering yourself with your arms. "Hey! You'd best turn your sorry tail around 'for I punch yer lights out!" He holds his hands up and spins around on his heel facing away from you. You partially turn away from him as you remove your shirt to ring it out.

He turns his head to look at you out the corner of his eye. His gaze traces the curve of your spine all the way down to where it disappears under your jeans. He snaps his head forward when you lift the shirt to put it on, narrowly missing getting caught. "Stay like that I ain't done yet." You slip off your soaked boots and socks before unbuttoning your jeans. As you slip them off, he looks at you again over his shoulder.

As you bend over, you happen to look his way, catching him in the act. Yelping, you pull down your shirt in an attempt to cover yourself again. "You idiot!" You throw your boot at him, his eyes widen, and he curls in on himself. It hits him square in the back of his head. "Ow, ok, I deserved that."

After you finish ringing out everything and putting everything back on, he holds your pistol and flashlight out for you. Snatching them from him, you give him an angry glare and continue through the cave.

-------

You trudge out the cave exit and push the bushes aside. He takes the lead again. There aren't many infected around here, but you can't relax. When you get to a metal door with a card scanner, he slips out an umbrella ID. He pushes open the door gun drawn. You sneak through the halls, not liking how quiet it is.

When you reach the right room, he scans his card again and jogs over to a computer hooked up to some machinery. You keep a lookout as he makes the slowing agent. After a few tense minutes, he walks over with a small case of syringes filled with liquid. "Now we have to get out of here." You call Leon, and he answers, but it's choppy. You can barely make out the word mines through the static.

"Alright then to the mines we go." At this point, you might as well call him your tour guide. He takes the lead yet again, showing you a secret hatch in a storage closet. A ladder leads down to the start of the mines.

There are lanterns and torches along the walls and hanging from the ceiling. He leads you further in and stops when he hears something. There are three infected men ahead, two conversing a bit with each other, and the other is guarding your way through. "We can take them." You nod already aiming at one. Both of you shoot at the same time, and it takes a few shots to kill them. There are large crates in the corner, and you notice some are open. Curiosity getting the better of you, you check them for anything useful.

Finding nothing, you both move on. When you come upon another large room, you duck back around the corner. A large, infected man with a boars head and an oversized sledgehammer is standing in the center as if he were waiting for something. Luis touches a loose rock on the wall, and it falls to the ground, alerting your enemy. You can hear the man running towards you so you both run the way you came.

Coming back to the Crates, there's only one large enough to fit you. Luis gets inside and pulls you in with him, sliding the lid shut. You both hold your breath as you hear the man trudge through. He stops close by, then turns around and walks back to where he was before. You sigh in relief when you don't hear him anymore.

What little light seeps through the cracks of the crate allows you to make out his silhouette and some of his features. He moves his leg, propping it up, which makes his thigh press into you between your legs. You squeak at the contact and try to sit up only for your hand to slip on some loose plastic at the bottom of the crate. You fall onto him, your chest pressed into his, and nose to nose. "Um... ar-are you alright?"

"Ye-yeah." You're kinda glad for the low light right now, so he can't see how much you resemble a tomato. His hands land on your waist, and his lips press against yours. His move surprises you, but you slowly relax into him. His lips moving against yours become more intense as his hands slide under your shirt. They glide along your sides, and his fingers slip under the hem of your jeans. His thumbs run over the sensitive sides of your abdomen, making you moan.

Reaching between you, you pull down the zipper of his jacket and unbutton his shirt. Your hands roam over his lean stomach. He chuckles at how eager you are. Pulling away, you both catch your breath. "Mi amor, you feel amazing against me." He kisses you again, your tongues intertwining as his hands move to the backs of your thighs. He breaks away only to scoot you up and press his lips to your neck.

He places kisses from your jaw to your collarbone and back up, leaving you breathless. His teeth nip at your skin, and he sucks hickeys into your flesh. "May I please you another way, Mi amor?" He purrs the words as his hand presses into your stomach with the tips of his fingers under the hem of your jeans. A shiver runs up your spine. "Yes, Luis, please!"

His warm hand slides into your underwear after he unbuttons your jeans, and his fingers lightly glide over your little pearl, making you gasp. One hand grabs his arm as the other moves to his hair. You feel the pads of his fingers pinch and roll your pearl, and a jolt of pleasure shoots up your spine. You cry out, your back arching as the hand in his hair pulls at his long locks, and the hand on his arm grips his sleeve.

He grins in satisfaction as he rolls and pulls on your pearl. Your head drops to his shoulder as you let those beautiful sounds escape your throat. "Luis, I'm close." When you warn him, he stops, making you whimper. "Ah ah ah, not yet mi querida." He tends to your neck again as he waits for you to come down a bit. Once he thinks you're ready, his fingers split you open and sink inside you.

His tongue drags over your pulse as his digits pump in and out of you. He feels around trying to find your sweet spot. Your sudden cry for him not to stop lets him know he's found it. Your nails scratch at his skin, and your thighs tighten around his hips. "I'm close!"

Growling in your ear, he encourages you to let go. "Dios mio eres hermosa! Come on, let go for me!"

"Ah! Luis Luis!" You bury your face in his neck as your walls clench on his fingers. Your whole body tenses as a waterfall of juices flows from you like Aquarius's Hydria. A low moan rumbles in his chest in appreciation. Slipping his hand free, he licks the sticky fluid from his palm and fingers.

"Gracias por la comida querida." He tilts your chin to kiss you again, and you can taste yourself on his tongue. As you sit down on him, you feel how hard he is. He hisses at the pressure, his hips twitching involuntarily under you. "Get on top of me."

"Que?" This time, you're the one growling. "I said, get on top of me, ya dummy." It's a bit of a tight space to turn over in, but you manage to do it. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you pull your hips up against his. "It's your turn stud." You purr the words in his ear, grinding into him for added effect. "Oh, I'm a stud, huh? Maybe I should show you what this stud can do, mi amor."

He thrusts slow at first, getting into a rhythm. You tangle a hand in his hair, kissing him. His hand slips under your shirt, his fingers dragging along your spine as you shiver under him. You pull back and connect your lips to the soft skin of his neck, nipping and sucking marks as his hips move faster.

His deep groans of pleasure tighten your coil as you pull his hips closer. "C'mon darlin,' I thought you were a stud?" He suddenly grabs both your wrists and holds them above your head with one hand. The other grips your hip, pulling you against him. His hips snap harder into you as he lets out a low growl. "Don't worry, I'm not done yet, mi amor." He keeps his pace thrusting firmly against you.

His lips kiss across your neck, and his tongue licks over your adams apple, making your eyes roll back for a second. You feel that you're getting close again, and just as you're about to fall over the edge, he pauses. His free hand hikes your leg up and locks it in his arm. He adjusts his hips, angling square into you and, with his face in your neck, begins thrusting into you again.

His breath becomes more labored than before, and his hips snap fervently into yours. You try futility to free your hands, but he won't budge. Cries and mewls flood from your lips as he pleasures you and himself. He opens his mouth and gently bites your shoulder, trying to ground himself.

-------

A bit further, and he'll definitely leap over the edge. He can feel the pressure building, and he thrusts harder, chasing his release. The sounds you're making as you writhe under him bring him a bit closer.

-------

His jaw tightens on your shoulder as his hips push harder into you, and finally, your coil snaps. Your legs shake a bit as you tense, back arching into him. He let's out a choked noise followed by his hips pressing yours into the bottom of the crate. His teeth grip your flesh harder as he releases. You can feel his member twitching and pumping through the fabric between you. If you'd been in a different situation, you'd wish he was inside you when he did that.

As you both rode out your highs, you knew you had to keep moving. You still had a mission to handle, so reluctantly the both of you quietly hopped out and continued your perilous journey.