#but it sure is right now and ahhhhh the horrors!!!

[fridgevespidae]

i am physically feeling my symptoms!!!!!!!!!!!! torment torment i say

[luvpookie02]

He's into YOU || Sano Manjiro x Reader || SMUT || YANDERE || 18+

003: Tainted Reunion

You wake up feeling light-headed, the pounding in your head making it difficult to focus. Slowly sitting up, you rub your temples in an attempt to clear the fog. But as your vision sharpens, you notice something alarming—there are different tiles beneath you, and scattered mugs litter the floor.

Your heart races as you realize, This is NOT my room.

Your eyes frantically scan your surroundings, taking in the plain black wallpaper, a small cabinet with two picture frames lying face down, and a modern black-and-white bed. The room has two doors—one likely leading to a bathroom, the other possibly an exit.

Panic rises as you attempt to stand, only to feel resistance around your ankles. Looking down, your eyes widen in horror—your feet are chained.

"What the fuck... why am I chained?" you mutter under your breath, fear starting to grip you.

The sudden sound of a door creaking open sends chills down your spine. Despite this not being your first time in a kidnapping situation, something about this feels off—there's a deep, unsettling dread gnawing at you, warning you that escape may not even be possible.

"Oh, the princess is awake."

That voice—it's unmistakable. A chill crawls down your spine as you look up, locking eyes with someone you never expected to see again. "Rindou?"

He lets out a sarcastic laugh, stepping closer, his hand roughly gripping your chin and forcing your face up to meet his. "I'm glad you still remember me, hime-sama."

Hime-sama? Confusion clouds your thoughts. "Wh-what? I... I don't even know you," you stammer, trying to deflect.

Rindou's grip tightens painfully, his dark eyes glaring into yours. There's a dangerous aura surrounding him, and you can sense the darkness that's consumed him since Izana's death. You knew about the drugs, the addiction—but seeing him like this, broken and twisted, stirs a strange pity in you.

"Don't play dumb. I heard you call my name, hime-sama." His voice is low, threatening.

"I... I'm sorry. I really don't know who you are." You lie, your voice trembling as you try to keep the panic at bay.

Rindou scoffs at your response, his gaze flickering away from you as he leans back onto the bed, still watching you. "Do you really think I wouldn't recognize you, Y/N?"

Your heart sinks as his smirk deepens. He grabs your chin again, pulling you closer. "Mikey will be pleased to see you. Make sure to take care of him, okay?"

A wave of terror crashes over you. Your entire body trembles uncontrollably. It's been five years since you last saw him—Mikey. You're not ready for this. Not for him. And you're certain he's going to kill you.

Rindou gets up, reaching into his pocket. He pulls out a small bottle—a vial of something, the kind hospitals use before administering injections. You watch in horror as he moves toward a drawer, pulling out a syringe.

Your worst fears are confirmed as he turns back toward you, showing you the bottle's label—Bremelanotide.

"N-No... Rindou, please..." you beg, shaking your head frantically as you try to scramble backward. But Rindou quickly grabs your ankle, yanking you toward him. He roughly hikes up your dress and plunges the needle into your thigh.

"Ahhhhh!" you scream, pain shooting through your leg. While you're reeling, Rindou forces you to swallow three pills, ignoring your gasps for breath.

"Sorry, Y/N, but Mikey's in a real bad mood right now. He can't deal with your attitude, or he'll kill you," Rindou says with mock sympathy. "This is the only way to make sure you both enjoy yourselves. Trust me, you'll thank me later." He laughs, stepping back to remove the chains from your ankles.

You try to stand, but your legs wobble. A violent headache crashes over you, followed by a wave of nausea. Desperate, you crawl toward the bathroom, your stomach churning. You barely make it to the toilet before you start gagging, but Rindou's voice cuts through your agony.

"Don't fucking throw up. Swallow that shit."

You ignore him, retching into the toilet. His footsteps approach, and you feel the fury radiating off him as he roughly grabs your hair, forcing you to face him.

"I said, don't fucking throw it up!" His eyes blaze with anger as he wipes the spit from his face. He grabs your throat, choking you, his fingers digging into your neck. "Mikey will be here in an hour, so you better fucking swallow it."

You gasp for air as he forces two more pills into your mouth, his hand covering your lips to ensure you swallow. There's no escaping it now.

When Rindou finally leaves the room, the effects of the medicine hit you full force. You collapse onto the bed, your body trembling uncontrollably as your hands involuntarily slide down to your core, trying to relieve the unbearable heat building inside you.

"Fuck... fuck..." you cry out as you climax for the fifth time, but the pleasure isn't enough. Your body craves more, something stronger, something only a man could provide. You're losing your mind as the hours pass, the drug's effects amplifying your need.

"I... I need to fight this..." you tell yourself, stumbling into the bathroom. You desperately try to focus on anything other than the overwhelming lust coursing through your veins. Your mind drifts to memories of your old friends—Baji, Sanzu, Mikey, Emma, Senju. You picture their faces, their voices, willing the memories to distract you.

Tears spill down your cheeks as you think back to those innocent days.

"You were Mikey's sun. Promise me you won't leave him, okay?"—Shin

"It's not even my fault... why does my older brother always side with Senju?"—Sanzu

"I didn't mean to lie about Mikey's toy... it was an accident... what should I do, Y/N? I'm scared..."—Senju

"Promise me that you won't leave me, Y/N, okay?"—Mikey

After thirty minutes in the bathroom, you feel slightly more in control. You step out, searching for clothes. Opening the closet, you see rows of black shirts. Does he only wear black? you think, pulling out a shirt and boxers. To your surprise, they fit perfectly.

Quietly, you make your way to the door. It's not locked, you realize, gasping at your sudden stroke of luck. But as you open it, hope drains from you. Mikey is standing right there.

His cold, dark eyes lock onto yours. Slowly, he steps forward. You retreat in fear until you trip and fall to the floor.

Without a word, Mikey pulls out a gun, aiming it at your face.

"Y/N," he says, his voice chillingly calm, "didn't I tell you I'd kill you if you ever showed yourself to me again?"

tagged: @itsruki @reiners-milkbiddies

(A/N) lmk if you want to get tagged!

[futureplayboibunnie]

‘’NEXT TIME (1/?)’’

Aaron Hotchner x bau! fem! reader

18+

- only got 3 more exams left and then i’m free ahhhhh. i’m working on like 3 fics at the same time to procrastinate lmao. but my boy aaron takes priority. i was planning on making this an even longer fic with like a super sad ending but its so damn long i’ll have to add another chapter. love yaaaa x

warnings: smutty smut smut so be warned. pnv. some angsty aspects lowkey. aaron being the dom we all know he is. some swearing and bants.

It shouldn't have happened. It wasn't right. Your moral compass was straying, but when you were with Hotch...did it really matter if it felt like you were morally grey?

Time was blurring into a pin sphincter, it was flowing out of your fingertips and your grip on it was as neglectful as it was pathetic. Six months of dancing around knives and eggshells with Hotch, to hide the unprofessional courtesy of a passionate love affair between two federal agents that are bound by their work…..and secretly each other.

All you could ask yourself at this point was:

How did it come to this?

How could you have possibly been this stupid? This weak. This subjective. Now it was going to be the death of you, in more ways than one. It all started with one look, one small moment of weakness within both of you would inevitably be your undoing. One stupid look, on one stupid night between two sad and lonely people desperate to feel something, anything other than the pain and horror that's experienced every day on this job.

You stopped in your tracks when you should've kept walking.

————————

12:34 am. You were so close, the end of this day was near, thank God. You had been rushing around all day- the case was nearby but it was especially difficult to catch the unsub due to Hotch's personal connection to this one. He had worked a similar case to this one when he first started the bureau and it turned out that this was a bloodline murderer and stalker- the unsub's father was the original killer on one of Hotch's first cases and he was just carrying on his legacy. Alex Wall was definitely an unsub worth remembering. It was hazy but solved, what was unusual though was that you noticed it seemed to affect Hotch in a way you've never seen before. You knew it was personal for him but you had never seen him crack as much as this, it was jarring and it made you halt in your tracks

Aaron Hotchner finally peeling back the brooding facade seemed like a lunar event that happened once in every blood moon. It reminded you that Hotch was just a man. Just human. Not this robotic machine that caught killers for a living. The thought made your gaze soften as you collected your files from your desk, your brain turning to static as these thoughts about your boss run rampant through the forefront of your mind. It made you think. Everyone comes to Hotch when they have a problem, and he always seemed to have a solution. But who did he go to when he felt like the world was asking too much of him? When the stress of this job felt like an eternal haunt? You dismissed the thought as quickly as it came.

You and Hotch were in the same chilly waters. Ice blooded. You were both incredibly opposed to each other, even though you were both serious as hell about this job. If anything, you were supposed to get along like a house on fire as you inhibited the same outlook. He especially pissed you off on this case because you suggested that the unsub might have been stalking his victims for a span of 6 months and then attacking. You've never believed in anything this strongly about a case in so long but Hotch shot you down. But your gut wasn't lying. It never did.

You shouldn't be reading into this, you shouldn't even care about it but your conscious was poking at you. Plus you had some files you needed to drop off.

No. Not now.

It was late, you were the only ones here and you weren't sure if you were ready to indulge in conversation just yet. You could drop it off tomorrow morning. You walked past his office and caught a glimpse of him through his blinded windows, he was writing but he looked distracted. Agitated. Sad, even. Alcohol. It definitely caught your attention and you resented it deeply. You were too much of a good person, the thought made your eyes narrow as you stopped in your movements. Instead, you shifted and turned around and stared at Hotch's door. Taking a deep breath before knocking.

‘’Come in.’’ Hotch said curtly, lowering his pen and standing up from his desk so he was in your eyeline

‘’I have some files for you to close the case." You parroted his tone back at him as you handed him the files.

"Thank you."

You paused for a moment to study him. Maybe it was because of how dark it was outside, maybe it was because Hotch was looking incredibly attractive in this light right now but it seemed your tongue was moving faster than your brain.

"What's wrong with you?" You questioned brusquely, not in an insulting way but in a matter-of-fact way.

‘’I'm sorry?’’ Hotch raised his brow at your purpose. It wasn't that surprising that you spoke whatever it is that was prancing around in that mind of yours but it didn't mean that it wasn't disarming

‘’Do you keep spare glasses in your drawers as well as the whiskey or do you just splash a dose into your coffee after hours?’’ You attempted to conceal your smirk but it barely worked.

Hotch just glared at you with furrowed brows and a certain distasteful passivity that you'd grown to expect but he wasn't lashing out at you- he was too tired and drained. He opened his drawer and pulled out two glasses and the bottle of whiskey he indulges in after hours when a case had seemed to scramble up his head. He knew it would be useless to lie to you right now, not when you were looking this incredible this late at night. The thoughts occupied him when he poured you a glass.

‘’Sit.’’ He ordered and you comfortably obliged.

"Thank you." You chirped with a half smile as he handed you the drink and he resumed his position of sitting, his fingertips toying with the glass. You sat in silence for a while, studying each other. Noticing how uneventful and sad everything is. Hotch thought you looked beautiful in front of him.

"I think you don't give yourself enough credit.’’

"For what?"

"For how incredible you are."

Hotch's stare intensified, compliments weren't a rare occurrence for him to endure but from you, was…memorable. The words you uttered made his body still.

‘’Thank you. Coming from a woman like you, I'm flattered.’’ He was happy with his more than eloquent response.

"'A woman like me?"

"The smart and beautiful kind."

You chuckled dryly, your face blushing a cute pink at his compliment- he caught you out and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't completely happy with himself.

You on the other hand were afraid you were going to start sweating in front of him, your thighs were involuntarily clamping together.

"Why are you telling me this?" Hotched added, your sudden declaration piqued his interest.

‘’I’ve heard whispers of you transferring." You sighed as you crossed your arms. "I'm hoping it's not true."

This wasn't because of your own biased viewpoint of Hotch at all, the team would literally have a gaping hole without him. Quite frankly, the team would fall apart. Everyone would be directionless. You never really put weight to these rumors but there's no smoke without any fire. The thought soured your mood and it was written all over your face, you hoped he wouldn't notice it but as usual, it was impossible for him not to.

‘’I thought about it a while back, maybe to transfer to a white-collar crime division but I've found that I'm far too attached to this team. You won't be getting rid of me that easily.’’

‘’I prefer it to stay that way.’’ You said softly like an angel wistfully staring down from the clouds. Your face instinctively brightened at the fact he was staying here. He's the only one that could effectively lead this team and you also didn't want him to leave your eyeline anytime soon.

Now you didn't know what to say, you both shared a longing look- something so strange and hard to define. It was easy for him to get you like this, like the basest of sentimentality, like a child at prayer. You were so good at hiding things, it was a skill that you practically needed to have in order for the people you work with not to pry into your life. Now, it all felt superficial when your exterior was cracking under his brutal gaze.

Hotch was a force of nature, you were sure even the weather bowed down at his feet. The thought made you bite your lip as you bashfully hung your head before meeting his eyes once more.

‘’Your tell.’’ Hotch stated.

‘’What?’’ Your eyes were bright with invitation and confusion, catching you and disarming you once more.

‘’You're nervous but I can't figure out for the life of me why.’’ Hotch announced and it made a deep pit form within your stomach, a strange heat swirling within your gut. Why was it only with him you felt this way? It was like he was playing God with you. You no longer wished to entertain whatever deduction he had going on, mostly for your own professionality and dignity so you stood up from your seat with your empty whisky glass in hand and leaned over. Face to face. Real close, placing your glass down in front of him. His scent was mystifying, his cologne was headily intoxicating.

You whispered. ‘’If I told you then transferring might be a good option for you to keep open.’’ Your voice was soft and serious, your face was hard to retain your reputation but your pussy was clenching around nothing. You leaned back and walked to the closed door, your hand placed on the handle, ready and willing to leave before Hotch also stood up from his seat and followed you to the door. Before you knew it, you could feel his massive frame and broad shoulders looming behind you. Turning around leaning against the door, you were met with Hotch's flaming and scorching eyes- his face was the nearest it's ever been to yours and you had to stifle any sound your body was willing to make.

‘’I meant what I said.’’ Hotch mumbled. You hung your head up to admire his dauntless eyes.

‘’So did I. You finished for the night?’’

"Yeah, let me just grab my stuff and I'll walk you out."

‘’I’ll just be a second.’’ Your hands twisted at the handle and you walked yourself out. You had to tamper down the shit-eating grin that was adorning your face but it felt like a near impossible task.

It only took a few brief moments to collate your things and swing your bag around your shoulder and before idling about it for too long, Hotch was already walking down the stairs with his eyes completely and utterly set upon you. Fuck. His eyes were unflinching, he drank you in as you waited so patiently and prettily for him, it was a sight beyond wildest dreams.

Neither of you said anything as you walked to the elevator and pressed the button, the tension between the two of you was egregious and so easy to spot. When the elevator dinged and the metal doors opened, Hotch being the gentleman he is, let you in first and pressed the ground floor. Time was going so fast, you had to do or say something before you never got the chance again. You felt his eyes burn into you, that serious Hotch face that's he so infamously known for etched on his defined features.

"What's going on up there, Hotch?" Your voice was flirty and breathy- there's no way you could possibly make it any clearer to him.

‘’You.’’ He declared, your body stood paralysed at the unexpected words.

He grabbed your face harshly and pushed you against the elevator wall, his lips colliding with yours in a battle against wills, a battle against the the longing and tension that hindered you both.

A kiss that was messy- no finesse. Something you absolutely wouldn't ever correlate with Hotch. It was like you wanted your mouths on each other but you knew you couldn't. Between breaths, you mumbled out a plea. ‘’No...no, Hotch…we can't.’’

His mouth traveled to the bare skin of your neck instead and planted kisses to atone for your sighs. They were becoming uncontrollable until he pressed his forehead onto yours.

‘’I know. I know. I just wanted to know what it felt like to feel your lips.’’ His thumb outlined the curves of your lips and and tugged your bottom lip down and all you could do was stare at him dumbly. ‘’I can't stop staring at them but I'm sure you've figured that out already." Hotch admitted in a hazed-out manner, all your body was willing to do was stare at him as he cradled your face, imploring him, begging him for something neither of you could have freely.

"You kissed me.’’ You remarked, completely oblivious and dumbed down by just a kiss. Your eyes were wide and glinting under the soft elevator light.

‘'You are quite the profiler, aren't you?’’ He said gently, traces of humor present in his voice as he stared down at you. You just smirked back at him, finally mustering up the courage to not look like a deer in the headlights.

"You're making me flustered.’’

‘’I can see that.’’ He shot back, almost as if he was goading you on. You paused to let the blood run back into your brain again.

‘’We shouldn’t.’’ You said heavy lidded, hoping he would back off because if he didn’t you’d jump his bones right now. It was like he could read your mind because he instinctively retracted his hands back to himself and instead resumed his prior postion by your side. In a half assed attempt to remain professional. ‘’Do you really want IAB down here probing on all of us?’’

‘’Yeah. We really shouldn’t.’’

——

You were in his bed. Hot. Wet. Aggressive. Bordering on delusional. Trying to hold out on him. Your naked body was all his to savour, all his to touch, all his to pleasure.

‘’Aaron…fuck….I’m-‘’ You were half hypnotised. Your clear thinking was long gone at this point but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

‘’Tell me what you want, tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you.’’

His voice was gruff. Sincere. It was able to turn you into a pile of ashes in an instant, it was pathetic but reasonable. You didn't know how to answer him, you knew with all your heart that you wanted him and now you have him- you had no idea what to even do after that, you never thought you'd get that far.

Your head was dangling off the edge of the bed, hanging off as he kissed down your neck, making you writhe and squirm beneath him in the delicious process.

‘’I just want you, Aaron...I-m-‘’ You couldn't properly articulate a sentence, your brain was fogged up with arousal.

‘'Come on baby, be more specific with me.’’

‘’Aaron.’’ You warned.

‘’Or I'll stop.’’ He replied in a thick, heavy voice.

‘’Don't be cruel.’’

With that, he smirked at you and leaned up from your body to stare down at you through surveying and analytical eyes, another means to tease you- he knew you couldn't take it anymore, you were desperate and it made him all the more aroused. The thought was a chilling one. It was an irrefutable fact: Hotch needed control in every aspect of his life. Especially in bed.

‘’You're the one that's been cruel.’’ Hotch declared softly as if he was profiling you- it made you bite your lip, the way that he's literally got you in his bed and made you this fucking wet already but he still had a polite tone. Hotch reached for your face delicately and traced his thumb on your soft lips. ‘’Oh, honey. You really have no idea how cruel you've been to me over the past few months.’’

‘’Enlighten me.’’ You flirted back. He paused at the brashness of your challenge.

Hotch gave you a severe look and attempted to dismiss you but he knew it was futile, you were insatiable.

‘'Aaron. Enlighten. Me.’’ You enunciated, unafraid of the consequences he would so deliciously inflict on you. You were begging for it at this point.

‘’No.’’ Hotch replied simply and just grasped your hips harshly making you yelp. Your ears pricked up at the clank of his belt being unbuckled.

"Fuck you, Aaron.'’ You whined as he started to position himself at your throbbing pussy. Lord above, he was massive and you didn't doubt it one bit. But Aaron not baring his secrets only reinforced the reason why you disliked him in the first place, even when he's about to fuck you into oblivion, he's secretive and closed off.

‘'That's no way to talk, is it? Apologize.’’ He demanded as his eyes met yours.

"No.’’

‘’Apologize or I'll edge you until morning's end.’’ His lips fell into an undeniably serious frown, he wasn't joking- he looked angry and it only escalated your heart rate. Your mouth was running before you could stop it.

‘'You don't actually think I'd have any complaints about that, do you?'’ You raised your brow at him, passion and desperation oozing out of every pore, hatred spewing from your eyes.

Hotch contemplated your purpose underneath him, a fire boiling within him every second his eyes panned to you. You were squirming and bucking against him already, desperate for friction. Lord, you were frustrating. And completely beguiling. It was so difficult getting you to shut the fuck up at work and it transfers into bed too. He knew you'd pretend that this never even occurred. Going to work. Going about your day. Acting as if he didn't leave you shaking and dripping the night before.

Aaron was a calm and reasonable man when needed to be- but you were a force that made him reckon with his own calm and reasonable iudements

He wanted to do wicked things to you.

He wanted to make you weep under him.

If he were a smart man, he would let someone else have you. He would be selfless, he could do that if he really wanted to. But you were his: His sweet fixation.

His. Only.

‘’You're drooling all over yourself.’’ Hotch gritted through clenched teeth, the need to possess you clouding him when his hands flew straight to his belt and undid it so roughly you thought the buckle would snap. Your gasp was sweet and breathless and he wanted to inhale it.

'’Aaron just touch me. Please.'’ Your beg was a sore reminder of how desperate you were for the man that you once considered the bane of your existence, it made you lazily attempt to bite back a smirk. Now you were under him, filled with reckless abandon. You were too busy being flushed and wonton that you were entirely shocked to feel his tip graze you already. You couldn't do anything, your head was just hanging off the edge of the bed and you were locked within him.

‘’Where?’’ He asked, dragging it out.

‘'Fuck...you. You know exactly where.’’ You spat back at him, completely unimpressed by his need to prove something that didn't need to be proven.

‘’You never talk to me like this at work.’’ Aaron reached his hand and wrapped his fingers around the skin of your neck. His tone was severe. And a strange frisson of fear, arousal, and anger started to welt within you.

‘’You actually get things done at work.’’ You scolded, instantly regretting your response because of the reaction you were sure to get.

Aaron didn't even pause after you uttered those words. He pushed his throbbing dick inside of you, not even bothering to tease you into it, get you to ease up. He clenched his hand harder against your neck and he bit your neck. You were shocked. He liked it. He was being selfish, caring about his own suffering and pleasure more than yours. Bless your heart, he knew you regretted saying it but you said it anyway. He couldn't let this behavior pass, he just couldn't. It wasn't in his bones. You were moaning and whimpering as your bodies rocked back and forth. Oh, you were full of regret. It was adorable

‘’Apologize. Now.’’ Aaron demanded deliciously against your skin, biting and nipping at your collarbone to torture you and make you weak.

‘’No! You can't- you won't-‘’ You couldn't string together a sentence he was fucking into you that good, that heavy, that deep. words sank into your soul, the realization only dawning upon you.

‘’Say sorry.’’ He cooed.

A rumble of helplessness coated your chest, you felt so exposed, you felt so tainted by his presence. This was something to remember, something to keep close. Aaron. Just Aaron. The real Aaron. The Aaron behind the tight ties and tailored suits, the man behind the polite forms and cooler than fucking ice and steel. All you could do was whine like a bitch in heat. He was pounding into you so hard you were sure your pussy would remember the shape of him.

‘’Come on baby. Articulate.’’ Hotch smiled menacingly, his eyes spiraling in complete satisfaction at how dumb he's got you. An experienced profiler that's seen it all forgetting how to use her tongue. It was cute as fuck.

‘’I'm sorry!’’ You screamed at him, his fingers gripping the dip of your waist even harder than before.

"Now thank me.’’ He ordered cooly. This you could do. He was fucking you so hard and so good it made your head spin.

‘’Thank you. So much, Aaron. Fuck...so good.’’

This he liked. You being grateful. Compliant. God, his dick was so hard it was threatening to fall off. Aaron always seemed to avoid beautiful women, or just dating altogether after Haley - the women he wanted harbored secrets and made his life a living hell. You were no exception, but you were always someone he had to look twice at. Fuck, that face. He wanted to cum all over those pretty lips and in time he will.

‘’Good girl. My perfect girl.’’ He whispered and it sent your body into nothing but a blaze. Aaron knew you were clenching around him, your wetness spreading around his rigid dick. You were going to finish.

Woah. This was...fast. An indefinite ego boost.

‘’Aaron!’’ You screamed, your throat going raw as you wrapped your hands in his hair and tugged tirelessly as he bit your tits.

‘’I’m gonna-‘’

‘’Now cum.’’ He ordered again.

It was like your heart was being strangled and your stomach was doing flips. Your heat was spreading to every inch of your body and it felt like the man was corrupting you- ironic because he's just so damn good and an altruist. You convulsed and a loud throaty moan left you, it was like your soul was leaving your body too. Your cunt squeezed him tighter and Aaron gripped onto you just as much.

But then his hand reached over your mouth and his palm covered your lips to silence the scream that came exactly the same time. Damn, profilers. You came violently around him, your perfect body arching into him as your body relaxed. It was so immediate. It was the fastest you've ever came. Aaron could then clear the knots in his lower stomach as he gladly painted your insides. It was such a fucking relief from all this stress and this tension between you.

It was necessary. You were a necessity to him.

It wasn't professional, but he couldn't care when he was in you.

Aaron's insanely massive hands aided you in getting you fully back on the bed, you were starting to feel sore, and it made you feel alive. He handled you as if you were a dove, gently caressing your skin as he crawled back up into his bed, your head hitting the pillow. Your neck needed the support, the blood had rushed straight to your head and you still couldn't believe you were in Aaron bed. As he stood up to go to his bathroom, he took a second to admire you as you were splayed out like a goddess about the clouds looking down on him: he was just a man and you were an angel. Twisted in bedsheets with a sheen of sweat thinly coating your skin-you looked like a mythical being. Golden.

'What are you gawking at?' You caught onto his lingering stare.

‘’Nothing.’’ He dismissed, whipping his head around as he headed to the bathroom to get a towel. Brooding as always, even after fucking the woman that has plagued his dreams and thoughts for months.

You felt yourself get giddy at the sweetest oblivion. You couldn't escape it. You bit your lip and your pussy started throbbing again.

Aaron stared at himself in the bathroom mirror as he grabbed a towel and put his boxers back on. An apparent blush stained his face and his hair was in disarray. Wow, he really went at it. Some profiler. His whole body was coated in sweat and he felt his palm twitch slightly. He wasn't completely enthralled with the idea of his inability to keep his hands off of you, he was afraid this would transfer into his behavior at work. He calmed the swelling idea as he had to trust his instincts of being completely unbiased. Yeah, he could do it. He couldn't help but smile into his reflection, he felt elated with you. Like the man he knew he could be with you. He went back into his bedroom and there you were laying there wearing nothing but a smile. He doesn't think he's ever seen you this flustered. You felt like a teenager the way you were blushing a light pink.

‘’Now what are you gawking at?’’ Aaron parroted your question from earlier and it made you flick your tongue on your front teeth.

‘’You.’’

‘’Since when were you honest?’’ He joked as he sat back on the bed and helped you clean yourself up.

‘'Since you fucked me until I couldn't think.’’ You replied truthfully, completely impressed with yourself. ‘’At least I can admit it.’’

‘'Huh, I wonder what would've happened if you didn't listen to me.’’ Aaron scoffed as threw the towel on the floor.

‘’Let's try that out next time.’’ You flirted unashamedly. Eyes locking in a perpetual battle, two strong wills locked within mere gazes. Like a drug you knew that was bad for you, but you couldn't help but beg for hit after hit.

‘’There's a next time?’’ He flirted back with a wicked gleam in his eye.

‘’Or we could go back to work. Stripping each other with our eyes. Wanting nothing but to fuck like bunnies. Or maybe even being as unprofessional as bending me over and fucking me on your desk.’’

‘’You never talk to me like this at work.’’ He repeated from before when he was quite literally inside of you. Something that's not forming into your own personal inside joke.

‘’You actually get things done at work.’’ You smirked and he bent down and kissed your lips then the bridge of your nose and then your forehead.

Aaron crawled into the sheets next to you and held you, pulling you into his embrace, his big arms holding you steady. Your hair cascaded against the pillows around you forming a halo-like effect in your stature. Did this mean you were quite literally an angel? His angel? The thought made him hold onto you tighter, you felt it and it made you kiss his lips tenderly.

‘’Hm, so beautiful, so frustrating.’’ He mumbled and you giggled at him.

God, he was so good. He was the best at what he does and he was able to make you feel so safe in his arms and in his presence. A few thoughts occurred to you as you fell into his chest, inhaling his scent as your eyes went heavy. You felt happy. Your dark thoughts were quelled as his fingers traced around your skin. It was like you could see a future where you weren't constantly looking over your shoulder waiting for the other shoe to drop. You...deserved this

But you couldn't have this and your job.

No.

Not now.

You'll think about the consequences later. Right now, everything is just him.

————————

It felt as though Hotch's ears were ringing.

A dull, screeching sound awakened him from the best night's sleep he's ever had, with you, here, next to him. Lying on his chest, breathing in and out, long lashes fanning your face perfectly. It felt too good to be true, for him to have you in his embrace. The ringing of his phone lighting up the bedside table made him sigh, he couldn't deal with this right now. Not this late or early, not when he had you in his arms- that was his priority right now. But he had a job to do, he couldn't give that up. You started to stir from your sleep as the phone continued ringing.

‘'Aaron...phone.’’ You mumbled. Hotch reached for the phone and tried to act as if he had been awake for hours but in reality, he was twisted in bedsheets with his colleague.

‘’Agent Hotchner.’’ He answered as he put the phone to his ear, his grip on you becoming tighter than before.

‘’Agent Hotchner, this is Erin Strauss. We have an issue.’’ Aaron's brows furrowed and his face hardened, why was Strauss calling him at this hour? Your eyes blinked open as he looked up at Aaron, he was wearing his serious face

‘’Involving?’’

‘’Alex Wall. He escaped from prison an hour ago and he's already killed again. Washington P.D has no leads and they need the BAU back.’’

‘’I'll be right there.’' He replied flatly but his blood was burning cold and his heart was thundering within his chest, he wasn't sure if you could feel it.

'’Aaron, what's wrong?’' You gazed up at him.

‘’We need to go.’’

[casualaruanienjoyer]

What jobs could AOT characters have? 🌻

Ahhhhh I love this one! LET'S GO!

What jobs could AOT characters have?

Eren: He strikes me as someone who changes jobs often. He'd get bored of one activity pretty quickly. To him, his job is just a way to earn some money that he can use to have fun with his friends. Pensions who, am I right?

Mikasa: Kindergarten carer. Her motherly personality is perfect for this, and she loves kids so much. The kids also love being lifted high up in the air so they often use Mikasa as a seesaw.

Armin: Teacher, most likely geography. He's the type to travel the world and teach in different countries. This lifestyle allows him to learn more about local cultures, languages and traditions. It fascinates him!

Annie: Traveling the world with Armin means finding work can be quite tough unless you know the language. When she can, she will work as a bartender. She quite enjoys mixing drinks and listening to people's life stories. She gets fired pretty often for her lack of customer service etiquette though.

Jean: Corporate job. He wanted to be an artist but didn't quite try hard enough, so now he's stuck between grey walls that drive him insane. The pay is good thankfully, so in his spare time he can afford luxurious trips and dinners. Reiner often encourages him to keep working towards his dream of becoming an artist and even offers to pose for Jean to draw.

Reiner: Counsellor. He likes being able to help people get over their troubles just like he did with his own. It's not an easy job but it's very rewarding when successful. Though, sometimes he ends up being the patient while Jean listens to him complain about his life. Or Pieck... or Annie... or...

Connie: Personal trainer. This dude will get you into the exact shape that you want. It's so hard to keep up with him, he's way faster than you. More agile, more flexible. How the hell does he bend like that? One day you try to do the same, but you end up in hospital. Don't worry, Connie has insurance.

Sasha: Camp instructor! Loves organizing all sorts of activities with kids and teens including archery, canoeing, climbing, hiking. She loves being in nature. The only thing she hates about this job is the horror story time around the campfire.

Pieck: Work? Pieck? Nah! If anyone's got some sort of sugar daddy, it would be Pieck. She lives incredibly comfortably for someone who appears to be both single and unemployed. Ah, the joys of being both incredibly beautiful and incredibly devilish.

Falco and Gabi: They are still young, so the best they could do is work over the summer at a theme park. The pay is shit but the location is amazing and they get to ride for free!

Yelena: Lawyer. Like, we all know Yelena. It's better to have her on your side than be against her. And it's even better if she's your lawyer. You could get away with almost anything! Right??

Zeke: Baseball instructor. He trains the local team and is known as one of the best players in the area. Now he uses his time to help kids learn how to play. Legend says Zeke can throw a ball so far away that some are still stuck orbiting around Earth.

Onyankopon: Pilot. Passengers usually take a liking to him. He's so charismatic and friendly. He enjoys making jokes over the radio with the other members of the crew. The amazing views is what he loves the most about his job. And the free snacks.

Levi and Hange: This man's in no shape to do any kind of physical work right now, but instead aids Hange with her job. She owns a private Pathology clinic. How does Levi help, exactly? Well he makes sure she stays hydrated and does her taxes. Basically a secretary of some sorts. He even has a cute nameplate on his desk.

[dia-souls]

🥀 Subayui fanfic 🥀

Pairing : Subaru 🗡️ and Yui🌸

Author: Admin Irsa

Genre: Romance, possessiveness

TW: Servant abusing, Death threat, mentally illness issues, possessiveness

Admin's Note: I don't even know what I wrote I will be very honest it was literally a passing thought. If you have confusion regarding this one-shot do ask. I will surely clear it. Again reviews are welcomed!

Nightmare of Love

Subaru looked at the tower infront of him. He could hear a shrill scream coming from the tower. He moved towards the tower with heavy steps. If he wanted he could easily teleport inside but he didn't because he was preparing himself for what was about to come.

As Subaru continued to move upstairs he noticed that the scream had died down. He then continued his small journey towards the room. He sighed to prepare himself from the emotional trauma that was about to come.

He opened the door to see her. He noticed that the maid whom he had hired to monitor Yui was glaring at her but her gaze changed as soon as she saw subaru. Yui was sitting on the floor, her back leaned against bed for support. She had pulled her legs towards her chest. Her face buried in between them. She looked frail with her white night gown on her. Her fragile form was something that had always worried Subaru for her safety.

"Yui." Subaru mumbled lightly.

Yui upon hearing her name immediately looked up as soon as her gaze fell on Subaru her eyes went lost, her eyes lost her shine as soon as she saw him.

Subaru raised his eyebrow as he noticed a slit on Yui's lip dried blood was still present on corner of her mouth. He felt anger and rage in his chest, his angry gaze immediately fell on the maid he hired to protect Yui.

"How do you explain this?!?" He said as he frowned and moved toward the maid.

"W-what?.. " The maid immediately backed away upon hearing his angry growl. Yui watched the scene unfolding infront of her with dead eyes there wasn't any emotion on her face. She then started looking at the carpet trying to ignore the angry shouts of Subaru.

"What do you mean by 'What' ?! You are supposed to protect her?! Why is her lip broken?!!"

Subaru said as he angrily moved toward the shivering maid whom was backing away. He immediately cornered her on the wall his fist slamming right beside her head. The maid eyes rolled in fear as she for a moment thought he would punch her skull in wall.

"Hah?! You are abusing her?! I hired you to protect her and to take care of her. How dare you try to hit her?! Who the fuck do you think you are to hurt her?! "

Subaru said as he punched another hole on wall. The maid at this point was crying and was on her feet.

" I-I.... She... Wasn't listening to me so in anger I-I-- Subaru-sama... Please!! Ahhhhh!!"

The maid gave a shrill scream as she was lifted by her hair. Subaru rougly gripped her hair, he pulled her hair so hard as if he was trying to tear her skull through her hair.

"Hahah? Do you really think I would let that slide?! HOW DARE YOU I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU!?! "

Subaru threw her on floor before the maid could escape he stepped on her hand. The maid screams increased as she felt her hand being crushed.

Yui who was quite throughout the whole scene also was now scared her fear increased as she watched the scene in horror her eyes whom were empty were now filled with fear for her as well as for maids safety. As much as the maid hitted and scolded her, she doesn't want this to happen to the maid.

Eventhough she was feeling sympathy she still remained quite in fear of shifting Subaru anger to her. As Subaru continued to put pressure on maid hand an ugly crack was heard that caused maid to give a powerful scream. Yui yelped in fear her heart started beating fast as fear gripped her heart her breathing shortened.

Subaru upon noticing the increase in Yui's heart beat immediately looked at her. His eyes filled with anger became gentler his face started showing gentleness. He felt disgust of himself as he saw fear and anxiety in Yui's eyes, her big pink eyes were filled with fear... Fear of him. He felt his heart giving a powerful twist.

"Tch."

He said before stepping away he ruffled his hair. It was as if looking into Yui's eyes stopped him from doing horror to the maid. Her eyes made him gentler. He stood there for sometime he doesn't want her to fear him. She is his love, his life, his everything and the last thing he want is for her to fear him, to be scared of him. His eyes then went from Yui towards the maid who was begging for forgiveness.

He then grabbed her by her shoulder and yanked her roughly towards him.

"Stop fucking crying!! You?! You know I am not the one who you should apologize to?! "

He throwed her towards Yui. The maid immediately apologized to Yui. She started begging her. Yui's eyes widened for a moment as she backed away from the mad maid whom was clinging to her. Yui then tried to console maid. After some time of her constantly asking for forgiveness Subaru spoke up.

"Get out.... leave us alone. "Subaru said but it was clear he was telling the maid to leave."

Yui felt fear as soon as she heard his words this means her turn is next? She doesn't want to be alone with him after what she had witnessed. The maid didn't hesitate to leave Yui and ran out of the door.

Subaru looked at the fleeing maid she is going to die tonight he had already decided if it wasn't for Yui being present she would be dead by now. He then coughed awkwardly as his gaze met with Yui.

He then slowly moved towards her not wanting to scare her with his towering frame.

"Yui.. "

He said gently as he sat beside her on the floor. Yui tried to move away only to be stopped as Subaru grabbed her. His grip on her arm firm yet gentle.

"Don't! .... I won't hurt you... Yui, I will never ever hurt you. You... I love you and you can't hurt someone whom you love. Right? "

Yui didn't answer him instead turned her face away from him. She closed her eyes as some unwanted memory crepped up. She sighed trying to push thoes thoughts away trying to calm her herself. She felt like crying. She choked to stop herself. She was scared... Scared to see Subaru like that she wanted to run but she felt scared to do so.

Yui didn't realize as tears start pouring out of her eyes sliding down her cheek. Subaru frowned at her. He pulled her toward himself to hug her hoping it will ease her as Yui started bawling in his chest.

"Shhh! Calm down... I will never hurt you... Yui... I won't. I love you so much. I love you too much--"

"Stop it!! Shut up don't! Don't say that?! Pleaseee!! "Yui chocked the words out as her crying increased.

"Yui... Seeing you, Feeling you calms me I can't--You are my cure! My fucking cure! I can't stop it--"

"Stop! Subaru stop killing everyone don't kill anyone... If you loved me why are you doing this?! Why are you making me like your mother?! Subaru please let me out! These walls are killing me! Don't lock me here... I am going crazy... I will surely die here please--"

"SHUT UP!"

Subaru said aggressively as he hugged her tighter. Yui started beating his chest but he still remained indifferent to her struggle.

"You not okay... You definetely are not. Can't you freacking see I am trying to protect you... I don't want to lose you?! Your mine! Only mine! Your mine to own understand?!? "

Subaru said as he crazily looked at Yui whom was still struggling against him. His eyes were filled with madness. His mind was filled with dark thoughts. He wants to monopolise her can't she understand?! He is protecting her from getting like his mother. He can only protect her by keeping her somewhere safe and there is no place that is more safe than this tower whoes key was owned by him! The tower that is only reserved for his eyes and no one is the safest option for Yui.

"Subaru... Please... Please I am tired of being locked up here I... I am not like your mom... No one wants to hurt me please... "

Yui chocked her words out of her throat. She wants to make him understand. She doesn't want to be here!

"You look so cute while struggling Yui."

Subaru said as he laughed lightly moving Yui's hair away from her face cupping her wet cheek his thumb caressing her swollen lip.

"I will do whatever the fuck I want. I just want us to be happy... Is it really that much hard to understand? Is it that hard to obey me Yui? To love me? Don't make me hurt you... "

Subaru said before joining his lips to her bloodied lips. Yui muffled as Subaru grabbed her jaw to keep her in place.

"You don't even have slightest idea what you do to here? Do you? When you love something you want to protect it and that's what I am doing Yui... "

He said before getting up and going toward door. Yui immediately started chasing him, screaming at him. He pushed her lightly inside the door and locked the door. The banging on the door continued but he ignored it.

[artiststarme]

A Date Gone Wrong

A little humor for you guys! I hope you guys like it and please leave your thoughts in the comments!

~*~*~*~

Eddie was never going to let Steve plan any of their dates ever again. He was having fun for a while, he would give him that. The hike was a little too much of a trek but the view, picnic, and company were amazing…

Until the squirrel came. 

For the past couple of weeks that they’d been dating, Eddie had been the one making all of the plans. He arranged movie nights, smoke outs, and trips to the bowling alley. He liked planning things and focusing all of his attention into making the best plans he could, it was what made him such a good DM. But he could understand why Steve felt he himself wasn’t putting enough effort in. He showed his love through gifts and cuddled affection. However, Steve was not good at planning. He decided for his first date to take Eddie to do something requiring physical exertion, and not in a fun way. Also, he unknowingly took Eddie to a place where he was surrounded by things he didn’t like. 

Fresh air, sunlight, mean and scary rodents with bushy tails, bugs, the list continues. But Eddie was doing a great job ignoring all of that by focusing on Steve. He looked amazing and his tan skin stretched over delicious muscles as he walked. Even the sun was focusing on how hot his boyfriend was. The beams of sunlight that fell on him made him look like an angel.

They sat down just past midday to eat the picnic Steve prepared for them and inside the little cooler was the best sandwich Eddie had ever tasted. He groaned in pleasure and sent Steve a thumbs up. He’d never experienced a grilled chicken sandwich with pesto mayonnaise as delicious as this one. Eddie was just starting to relax, to enjoy this outdoors date when it happened. 

A small squirrel ran up to Steve and climbed into his lap, nibbling on the crumbs from his sandwich that rested there. The both paused, albeit for different reasons. Steve didn’t want to disrupt the little creature or scare it at all so he didn’t move a muscle. Eddie, though, was terrified and he couldn’t move out of fear. He’d been terrified of squirrels ever since he was a kid when he was chased, peed on, and climbed on in quick succession when he’d first moved in with Wayne. Now was no exception.

But he was also torn because he was dating a true life Disney princess and he couldn’t help but see the situation as unnecessarily adorable even despite his heart pounding in his chest. He enjoyed the view for another moment before the squirrel jumped off of Steve’s lap and took a tiny step towards him. 

Then, all bets were off. Eddie screamed shrilly in terrified horror and threw the glorious sandwich at the rabid beast. It barely even paused its stride and skittered ever closer.  

“Steve! It’s after me, ahhhhh!” He shrieked. Eddie stumbled to his feet and took off running down the trail they’d used to get to that spot. He kept running, wheezing and all, until he reached the Beemer. He put his hands on his knees and panted as he regained his breath. Eddie hadn’t had such a close encounter with death since the Upside Down a few months ago. It’s a wonder he could even outrun the bats then because his lungs right now felt like they could explode. He had to stop smoking so much, Jesus Christ. 

He recognized that Steve wasn’t beside him but he was only slightly worried. He saw him rip a demobat in half before so he would be fine… probably. 

Just a few minutes later, he heard a throat clear above him. He looked up to find Steve wearing the most unimpressed look he’s ever seen from him. “What the hell, Eddie?! It was a squirrel!”

“I have a deathly squirrel of fears! Fuck- no, I mean I have a deathly fear of squirrels! I feel like I’ve mentioned it before.”

“You definitely have not! I would’ve remembered that, for sure.” Steve accentuated his words with jerks of his head full of judgment. 

Deciding to be a little shit for the afternoon, Eddie decided to mess with him. “Stevie, I am positive that I told you. We had a whole conversation about it, you were very understanding.”

“Oh, no, no!” Steve pointed an accusing finger at him. “Do not turn this around on me! Robin told you not to use my head trauma to your advantage, you manipulative bastard. I will call her!”

“Okay, okay, Big Boy, calm down. Jesus Christ, I’m just messing around. Please don’t sic your lesbian guard dog on me!” Eddie pleaded with him, laughter in his chest. 

“My god Munson, get in the car.”

“This stays between us though, right? Because Buckley threatened to shave my eyebrows off the next time I did that and I’m pretty sure you’re a fan of my eyebrows. They really bring my face together,” Eddie asked him over the hood of the car.

“Fine but you owe me,” Steve said humorously pointing a finger at him. 

“Oh Stevie, don’t you know already that everything of mine is already yours?” 

Steve’s face flushed red and he grumbled once more before ducking into his car. Eddie wouldn’t let him hide that adorable little blush though and he climbed in right after him. He grabbed his free hand in his and brought it up to his lips for a kiss, pulling out all of the romantic movies he could before Steve could make a move of his own. He loved this guy and if an outdoor excursion, squirrel attacks, and threats from Robin Buckley were conditions to keep him happy, Eddie would handle them in stride.

Steve drove them back to the Munson trailer where they smoked a little, cuddled, and watched Ferris Bueller's Day Off. It was one of the best days of Eddie's life and by far the best date he'd ever been on. With an ending like this, it wasn’t such a bad date after all.

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[fallenclan]

"AAAAH!" Lionpaw and Mosspaw exploded out of the apprentices' den, shrieking in horror. Wormshade immediately leapt to his paws, ears flattening.

"What's going on?" he demanded, racing up to the panicked apprentices. Flyspots and Mudsplash followed close behind, exchanging bewildered glances. The three warriors had been discussing ShallowClan's recent... behavior when they had been interupted by the apprentices' yelling.

"There's a snake in the apprentice's den!" Lionpaw yowled, trembling. "I opened my eyes and it was right in front of me."

Mudsplash frowned. "How did a snake get into camp? It couldn't have been a viper..."

Flyspots brushed by the other cats, trotting into the den despite Wormshade's protestations. Rather than hissing, Flyspots could only be heard chuckling. He padded out of the den, a dead snake dangling from his jaws.

"You killed it!" Lionpaw let out a tiny cheer, impressed. Mosspaw let out a relieved sigh, having been momentarily concerned for the warrior's safety.

"It was already dead." Flyspots tossed the snake in front of the startled apprentices, causing Mosspaw's tail to puff up like a bottlebrush.

Wormshade let out an irritated huff. "That's a garter snake. They aren't even venemous. Have Willowsplash and Fruitbeam taught you nothing?"

"Oh." Mosspaw ducked her head in embarassment before turning to swat her littermate. "You made us look stupid!" she hissed softly, embarassed.

"How was I supposed to know?" Lionpaw protested, dropping his voice to a whisper as well. "If it had been a viper, I would have been saving your life."

"No," Wormshade interupted, looming over the apprentices. "Vipers don't creep into dens looking for disruptive apprentices. When cats get bit, it's because they startled one that was hiding. Whenever you're out on the territory, you need to always be vigilant in case . . "

As Wormshade continued to lecture the apprentices, Mudsplash turned to her brother. "How'd you think a dead snake got in there, anyhow?"

"I can think of a few ways." Flyspots smirked lazily, causing Mudsplash to snort in amusement.

"Salmonpaw, then?"

"Oh, of course. Now c'mon, let's go back to our 'discussion.'" The tom's face grew serious once more as he and Mudsplash padded off, Wormshade staying behind to continue "teaching" the apprentices about snakes.

...

"D'you think they'll be okay?" Moosepaw asked, frowning. The more that he thought about it, the more he worried that he and Salmonpaw's "prank" might have been a little mean.

"Nah, they'll get over it." Salmonpaw waved a paw dismissively. "I used to sneak bugs into their nests a-a-a-all the time." Grinning mischeviously, the she-cat shoved her muzzle an inch from Moosepaw's own, causing the tom feel a strange fluttering in his chest. "Wanna go swim in the star-pool?"

"Won't we get in trouble?"

"Not if we don't get caught...! Plus, I bet if we leave now, no one will notice."

Moosepaw seriously doubted this, but found himself nodding along anyway, grinning like an idiot for the first time since Shrewkit died.

The two apprentices zoomed out of camp, giggling the whole way. Antpaw, who had seen them leave, opted not to say anything when Wormshade, Applebranch, and Hawkwish began searching the camp for the troublesome apprentices, presumedly to scold or punish them.

-🐉 (i wasn't sure what type of snake to use so i went with garters, since they're found all over the place, including mountains. vipers are a lot more common in mountainous areas, though! not sure where fallenclan is located other than 'vague mountain area' tbh. oh, and if anything happens to salmonpaw or moosepaw, i'm going to scream)

AHHHHH THIS IS SO CUTE I LOVE IT <33333 Salmonmoose you mean SO much to me its unreal. this is adorable. i love the dynamic,,, wild silly cat and her equally silly but more reserved best friend. he fell first she fell harder. my heart

[queenlua]

i rewatched schindler's list last night (extremely scattered random thoughts)

* the main motif that jumped out to me this time was that of paperwork

which makes sense, right. the list. in the title. is in fact a piece of paperwork

but (1) the last time i watched this i was like 15 and a dummy, and (2) i guess paperwork's been on the brain lately ever since i saw brandon taylor calling for a comeback of the "paperwork movie" and i was like so true bestie

the paperwork thing isn't the movie's primary preoccupation. it wasn't trying to make a specific statement about The Inhumanity Of Machines And Bureaucracy as far as i could tell (even though that'd be an easy angle for something like this to take), but even so. the endless lines with some harried typist at the end of it, the shots of ppl checking every coat pocket for their work papers, Itzhak's goofy-ass typing technique as he's making that list of names, the paperwork error that sends the train of women not to his factory but to Auchwitz, etc...

but there's a missing middle in there, right, with some honest examination of these typewriters and databases and keyboards and emails and files as part of the air we breathe now. (i think the automated-job-assignment-system in Le Guin's The Dispossessed and the City of Mind in Le Guin's Always Coming Home are both her kind-of-inchoate-but-deeply-felt AHHHHH reactions to bureaucratization and the internet, respectively—a lot of scifi from that era reads like that, nervous but not really sure what to say yet.) like, Schindler's List was not wanting to examine that angle overmuch, but because it's not so front-and-center preoccupied with the papers in-and-of-themselves it probably comes away with stronger imagery/riffing on the idea than it would have otherwise

when taylor was talking about paperwork movies he was talking about stuff like legal thrillers, romcoms, stuff like Air, and so on. things where bureaucratic competence is the way to win. and there's no shortage of midcentury stuff where The Bureaucratization Is The Horror, the act of putting anything on a paper or in a database is the itself the thing to be feared

but it'd be interesting to see a film that did take that front-and-center. (probably one exists! i don't watch very many movies.) i guess the closest thing to what i'm thinking of is Red Plenty, which is a novel about a lot of things, but one of those threads is definitely Egghead Soviet Math Nerds Doing Paperwork, & yeah it's so so so good. I Am Once Again Asking You To Read Red Plenty

* the other new thing that jumped out at me, this time around, was just how bad at business Schindler was lol. this went over my head as a kid, because the guy is always dressed fantastic and slots so easily into the Charming Business Magnate Archetype, and also because as a kid i hadn't spent enough time around Charming Business Magnates to realize how often they are full of shit... but yeah, the movie makes it super clear upfront that this is essentially a Wall Street Bets guy who has identified exactly one weird arbitrage opportunity ("hire slave labor") and is good at calling in favors from the other nazis he parties with and that's it. utterly unsurprising he failed at every single other business he ever tried. reading the details of Actual Oskar Schindler's life makes him seem both better and worse than how he's portrayed in the film, and it would've been really interesting to see all those angles explored, even if i get why Speilberg opted to sand down those edges and i'll concede he was probably right to do so for the thing he wanted to make

anyway yeah. that's a film

[the-kr8tor]

im quivering at the fact that BDAS finale is looming over us I know someone's going to die and my timbers are shivering:( Daily Hobie HC! Imagine having like- those first few dates with him. He won't settle for something basic such as dinners or picnics, unless you ask. Instead, Hobie will bring you out to abandoned buildings, an animal shelter or even his own boathouse if you guys just felt like having a more relaxed date. Whenever he brings you to these abandoned sights, he always makes sure that it's safe for both of you. His main goal is to get to the top of the place, and so obviously you two try your best to race up there. Screw him and his spider-abilities though, he looks like he teleported there with a smug smirk on his face while you're panting like you've run a marathon; which you probably did. Once the casual affectionate exchange of insults between you two is over, he sits on the ledge and beckons you over. As soon as you sit down next to him, he snakes his arm around your waist, complaining that you aren't close enough, while making sure you don't fall. If you get cold, he'll offer you his jacket. While it may not look much, considering it's sleeveless, it still does provide quite a bit of warmth. If you guys were to just be hanging out for a date in his boathouse, he'll play some of his music for you or even just settle on having a movie night. (He'll make sure it's horror so he can scare you >:) ) Even if you end up falling asleep at his place, depending on whether you feel comfortable enough around him, he'll willingly carry (aka swing) you back to your place, making sure you're all comfortable and safe before he goes. And hey, who knows. When you wake up, you might find that you've got a little trinket beside your pillow with a note on it, reading 'Hobie Brown was here'. Off topic I got my hair cut and styled into a messy wolfcut and I love it sm! I look androgynous now so people have to guess and hope for the best muahah (they'll be wrong either way cus i said so) - 🐦‍⬛

AHHHHH I KNOW!!!!! IT'S SO VERY SPECIAL TO ME AND I STILL CAN'T BELIEVE IT'S FINALLY DONE!!! (I have tears in my eyes everytime i think abt it tbh)

DAILY HOBIE HC YIPEEE!!!! 🎉🎉🎉

YOU BEAT ME TO IT!! I have a request where Hobie and r explore an abandoned place for a date!! Stay tuned for it, babes bc i think you'll love it!! (And you're so right abt him racing you even tho he has abilities 😂)

He probably read somewhere that watching a horror movie on a date makes your date like you more bc it gets the blood pumping making them think it's attraction 😂 (it's definitely attraction btw) also it might backfire for him bc now you're not letting him go to get more popcorn bc you're clinging to him to hide from the scary man on the telly 😂😂😂

The lil note 🥺 it probably even has a doodle of him!!

Ooh what a coinkidink! I've been meaning to cut my hair bc it has gotten so long that it's almost near my butt LMAOOO 🤣 wolfcut! I love that style, i love it so much that i know how to cut my own hair in that style (and unfortunately only in that style 😂🤣🤣) I bet you look amazing, lovely❤️

[slashingdisneypasta]

I know I've sent you enough asks about Poppy and Kingston... But now I've been thinking about their trip to Australia and now I HAVE to send you my thoughts on them in the Outback XD

Of course as usual, you don't have to answer right away, and whether these are true on Kingstons end is up to you ^^ and if you have any thoughts on this, I'd love to hear them!!!

First things first. The language/slang barrier. Can you inagine??? XD I did not confirm if your guys language was still the same around the 40's, but still!!! Like-

Kingston: *sees Poppy packing shoes that probably aren't the best for the Australian environment* Yeah, we're gonna get you some thongs, love.

Poppy: ... Honey, we're going to meet your parents??

I know that by then they've more than likely cleared some things up about their languages, but still, this was too hilarious for me not to include XD besides, hearing your boyfriend talk about bringing thongs to his parents' house would factory reset any American I bet XD

Poppy just- not at all being prepared for the Bush XD but also loving it!! She's not used to not having the sounds of the bustling yet dangerous city outside her window at night, but she definitely appreciates the lack of it. Having neighbors being literal yards apart and not having to worry about walking too loudly for people below you, etc. Of course Poppy still minds her manners, but it's very jarring and relieving for her out here ^^

Of course, Poppy on the farm. If Kingston was raised here, he can introduce Pops to the animals!!! And just in general, assure her woth the Australian wildlife... But also giving her a heart attack when he just calmly picks up a snake that snuck in their room that night, or wave a dismissal hand at a dingo XD (omg imagine if Kingston Kangaroo got into a fight with a human kangaroo!!! I wanna see that. And I want Poppy to see that and be very surprised what real-life kangaroos are like XDD)

Again, Poppy going through a culture shock with Australia. Idk if people in general in Australia don't care about filtering their words like Kingston, but if they do, ho boy Pops is in for a treat XD

Ok, time for your regularly scheduled angst. Poppy would be trying so hard to impress Kingstons parents. She's upping her etiquette to the max and is going to be stressing out about how Kings parents will perceive her :( though something tells me that Mr. And Mrs. Kingston will be quick to assure her ^^

All in all, it's a very surprising culture shock for her, but she loves it all the same and would love to move somewhere outside of the city with Kingston someday ^^

No. Never enough Poppy and Kingston XD

First off, coming from an Aussie, I can genuinly say that the thongs thing will never not be funny XDD Yes, I'm sure, hearing that would be a surprise for her 😅😄 And Kingston would know e x a c t l y what he's doing, cuz we are perfectly aware of American slang and non-slang XD He would just say it, smooth-faced, and move on. Rena will perpetuate the horror, too. So Ryan will have to let her in on the secret (whils King's whining that Ryan ruined his fun XD ). But eh 🤷‍♀️ There are other fun Aus Things to tease her with 😏

~

Poppy: OH, it's SANDALS! Oh my- thank goodness. Kingston how dare you do that to me!!

Kingston: Awww, Ry, you had to ruin the fun?

Ryan: I'm just being a friend. What she's really gotta worry about is the drop bears, anyway 😏

Poppy: Drop- Drop bears??

Rena: 😏 Mhm, scourge of Aus, those fucken drop bears.

Kingston: 😏😏😯 OOOOOOooooo you're right. When you're right, you're right, Ry. Don't worry Pops, I won't let those viscious cunts get you.

Poppy: W h a t???

~

Ahhhhh! Imagine bonfires with Poppy and Kingston's family!! XD They're out in the middle of nowhere so as long as weather permits, they can set up a nice fire and roast marshmallows, and look for the southern cross and orion, and listen to kookaburras!! God I'm suddenly so jealous XDD

Omg, Kingston introducing Poppy to the animals 💛💛💛 And don't forget- Kingston introducing Poppy to Aussie snacks!! Vegemite, Tim Tam's, Milo, twisties, anzac bickies, fairybread, lamingtons, pav, shapes, etc. Obviously some of these are more modern but hey, if they're toons they're immortal! Kingston showing Poppy how to Tim Tam Slam! ^^ (she will never be the same. Girl will be importing Tim Tam's to the US in order to tim slam them- )

Haha, as for how the regular person talks... yeah I guess their could a culture shock there 😄 It's not that fuck and cunt are every second word or anything but we're definitely not as sensitive about them as I think the US probably is (or at least older generations?). Cunt is for sure used as a term of endearment, especially if you're mixing with bogans XD I'm sure by that point Poppy will be used to that though from Kingston! XDD He's the most g e n u i n e aussie bloke XD Friendly, but loud and a little kinda scary.

Awwww, King's parents will l o v e Poppy!!! I'm basing them off of any and all of my aussie friends parents, so they're friendly and sweet and inclusive ^^ When Poppy arrives they just want her to r e l a x. 'We're not here to scare you sweetheart, our home is your home ^^ Now we were thinkin of frying up some fish for dinner, what do you think? We'll have whatever you want ^^'.

[aajjks]

⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️

mommy issues!JK

you help set the table up for dinner and help your mother finish cooking while your father and jicheol sit in the living room and converse. you’re unsure how this dinner is going to go but you’re hoping by the end of it you’d be out the door and on your way to ilsan. speaking of ilsan—

“soo-min!! oh, my sweet girl. its been so long”

“hi mom! hi dad! hi—wait, y/n? is that you?! oh my goodness! look at you!!”

kim soo-min, your older sister by only a year yet looks exactly like you or more like your father with your mother’s eyes. the only difference is, soo-min received more grace in her childhood whereas your childhood wasn’t so merciful.

“hey soo-min” you say in a dry tone.

“oh c’mon. that’s not how you greet your older sister. come give me a hug”

reluctantly, you give your sister a hug and your mother is ecstatic to see the two of you ‘getting along.’ “aww how sweet” she coos. “minnie, y/n, come help me put the food out for supper”

after the short reunion with your sister, you both finish setting up the table that has a large variety of foods but before everyone takes a seat, jicheol has a special announcement.

“i know that we’re all happy to finally have y/n back home and there’s been some talk of ‘husband’ and ‘wife.’ so…” jicheol reaches in his pocket and pulls out a black box containing a diamond ring. “why don’t we make it official? y/n, marry me”

your eyes widen in horror while everyone around you is practically jumping for joy. this can’t be happening. this won’t be happening.

“no”

“excuse me?”

“i said no. i’m not marrying you jicheol”

“y/n” your mother says your name in a warning tone but you still insist on putting your foot down no matter the consequence. it’s like jungkook said, you have to face your fear and you will not allow them to control you like a puppet anymore.

“don’t ‘y/n’ me. i’m not marrying you jicheol. why in the hell would i marry my abuser when there’s someone in busan that actually loves and cherishes me”

“y/n” you mother warns you again.

“i’m not soo-min. you can’t control me and i won’t allow you to anymore—,” you’re interrupted by jicheol who slaps you so hard that you fall onto the floor.

“you know what, let’s take care of that issue right now. i was trying to be nice but you always want me to be the bad guy. you won’t be going anywhere, y/n and i’ll make sure of it”

jicheol stomps up to you and basically drags you to your bedroom to beat you even more. he punches you, kicks you, and as promised—to make sure you don’t run away, he takes your left leg and snaps it.

panting, jicheol says “there. now, i’ll ask again. will you, y/n marry me”

“y-yes!!!! yes, yes i’ll marry you” you cry out in pain. jicheol takes your hand and shoves the ring onto your finger that’s a perfect fit.

“i should leave you like this. you’re a selfish bitch who cares only about yourself”

“pl-please” you beg. “jicheol, please. d-don’t leave me like this”

“why shouldn’t i? you left me with a broken heart”

“b-because…you love me”

jicheol takes in your battered body and face. even with tears falling, you’re still beautiful. it’s amazing how you never cease to be angelic in his eyes whether you’re happy or in pain.

“that’s right. i do love you. i love you a lot. i’ll go get the stuff to put your leg back in place, okay?”

you nod your head.

“what do you say?”

“th-thank you”

“thank you what?”

“thank you sir”

when jicheol leaves, he feels his phone vibrating in his pocket.

from nara

where are you

I want to confirm yns whereabouts, send me the address so I can tell jungkook about how she willingly ran away from him with you. He will need proof.

to nara

the address?

this must be jungkook. don’t know how you got her phone but you aren’t getting shit from me 😂😂

just know that she’s in good hands

see?

[photo attachment]

~🫧

What the fuck?

“AHHHHH THIS MOTHERFUCKER IS WAY TOO SMART FOR HIS OWN FUCKING GOOD.” Jungkook slams his hand on the steering wheel

As he stares at the picture, he wants to break the phone. You’ve got a diamond ring on your finger, his grip on your hand is so tight-

There’s something really wrong with your ex- THIS WASN’T SUPPOSED TO BE HIS PLACE. This was supposed to be him and you.

This was supposed to be jungkooks ring on your finger. “HOW ARE WE GOING TO FIND HER NOW? I NEED HER PARENTS ADDRESS. BECAUSE SHE WAS TELLING ME ABOUT HOW HE’S SO ATTACHED TO HER PARENTS!”

He tosses the phone back to Nara. “you’re actually fucking useless. This is your fault that she’s with that fucking abuser. But I’ll get her back and you’ll watch as I marry her and have a family.”

Jungkook gets out of the car. He’s so frustrated right now and his friend notices that.

“Hey how about chaeyoung?! she must know her parents address!!! Yn used to tell her about everything. I’m pretty sure she knows something.” Eunwoo suggests- and Jungkook gets the idea to call her.

“oh yes, you’re right is she must know her parents’ address and he’s in gwangju-she lives in here! Oh yeah I remember Alina telling me about this.” Jungkook reminisces.

He hardly takes out his own phone and calls chaeyoung, he did have her number because of the school Reasons.

Eunwoo is keeping an eye on Nara as jungkook waits for chaeyoung to pick up, and thankfully, she does pick up after 2 to 3 calls.

“H-HELLO? HI IT’S ME JUNGKOOK-don’t ask anything, but I need yns parents address. COME ON HURRY UP. I DON’T HAVE MUCH TIME PLEASE. I’LL DO ANYTHING IF YOU TELL ME HER ADDRESS!”

[honeybeewhereartthee]

PINK KKOMAS 158

Spoiler for my story

"this place is huge... Almost as if we're inside a loop." Hallow mumble as he look around the place, looking at the hallway that they seems to enter the nth time and the same picture of an old distorted image beside the close window.

"We are probably lost." Reaper admitted as he stared at Doll who was making a layout of the place in his palm since his own palm already filled with layout so they can escape the place already.

"People get lost here cause it's the illusion of one of the spider." Bee says out of the blue, he suddenly remember that being a case when he remembers a bit of memories when he summon the place in his own au. In the timeline be barely remember except the fact he went through it so he could return what was lost to him.

"That." Doll stared at Bee like his looking at the elephant in the room. "Why don't you say that earlier!" He starts to shake bee who responded:"I just remember it ok!!" He reasons as he felt dizzy from Doll shaking.

"Then tell us more!" Doll is getting tired of walking in this place and he is lacking of sugar to fuel his mind to stay sane. It been hours!

"Well. I think I can soul link with Blood and try to--"

"Do it now!(｀△´＋）" -Doll

Bee sigh and tried to do it but he forgotten how to do it. Even how hard he think of how he manage to do it before. He can't remember clearly.

"... I forgot how." Bee refuse to meet Doll eyes as he felt the intense gaze Doll is giving him. "Don't you do it last time? How come you forgot how to do it now?" -Doll.

"...I don't know..." -Bee.

They all enter a silence but they hear someone mooching on something making them all look at the person who's eating something in the corner. They saw a little boy seating in the corner with his back turn from them.

"...???" Hallow tilt his head as his the closest to the child. He smell something metallic. "...do people usually eats raw and bloody thing?" He did know too well what that smell is since there is an undead in the estate that is being feed with uncertain meat. That probably low key human from another au.

"What." Dread start to form to doll but he gulp his fear away as his hand pale from how tight his fist have form.

"Oh I finally get it..." Bee who wasn't staring at the same thing others is looking at thought what you said before as he felt slight headache as he remembers a glimpse of memories of Blood he saw.

...

"... I'm tired..." He heard blood voice. "I'm so tired...." He heard something click but it's pretty sure it's from the memories. In the memories he saw a hat that he(?) Reach out it transform into something he can't understand before long he heard a chuckle from himself(?) "... I failed.... But also succeeded." Then everything turns black.

(The hat that seems to be the thing Blood wish for that can transform for long time ago from the wish flower.)

"Bee... Take care." He hears Blood voice as he felt someone seems to pat his head and it was gone.

...

When he open his eyes, he was crying. "What's wrong bee?!" it seems that while he was distracted, Hallow have carried him away as they escaped another horror of the mansion.

"...nothin... " Bee wonder if he failed to realize blood is not as strong as he think he was. Maybe he was but... Was it wrong to wish blood shouldn't do that? Ah...

"AHHHHH.." the fae screams as he felt sadness and it made his chest hurt and suffocate. "hic... Ahh.... Waaaa...." Bee cried as tears to continue to fall from his eyes. Underneath his right eyes is a black spider web and chaos butterflies his return Irish returns,the color of his right eye turn Blue with golden ring the glows. His outfit change and his tears to continue to fall as he wail his heart out. He felt stange heaviness in his heart. It's hateful yet familiar.

The other tried to console bee but currently they are in a run but they come to a stop when the location change into a garden. They finally escaped the mansion illusion. And bee have fallen into unconscious

[winterlogysblog]

4KOTA DRABBLE

Just watched Grudge of Edinburgh and once again my desperation to see Kiane's kids is fueled once more.

---

"What are those things?" A girl with long light brown hair asked as she looked at the creatures standing outside of the forest.

"I don't know, just ignore it." A boy with brown hair replied.

"They look pretty harmless, they're just standing there like statues." The girl said, slowly floating closer to the tall creatures, the moment she flew too close it immediately attacked her.

"Whoa!!" The girl shouted. "It's alive!!! Galehaut look it's alive!!"

"Yeah, Yeah... wait what!!" The boy followed where the girl went and saw the creatures blasting black orbs at his sister which she is easily dodging.

"Should we tell dad about this?" She asked.

"Come here a sec." He said which the girl obediently flew back.

As the girl went back inside the forest the creature stopped attacking.

"That's weird," Galehaut said.

"There you are." A voice suddenly popped it.

"Ahhhhh!!!" The two shouted as they hugged each other, their eyes closed shut.

Galehaut opened his right eye and sighed.

"It's just mom." He smiled, flying up to greet his mother.

"What got you two so scared?" She asked.

"I wasn't scared." Galehaut huffed.

"I'm pretty sure you screamed louder than I did." The girl retorted.

"Shut up Hebe!" Galehaut exclaimed.

"But seriously, what do you two so riled up?" One of the Fairies asked.

"There are these weird things outside the forest, they're like statues but when I came closer they started attacking me," Hebe explained, showing the others the tall creatures.

One of the fairies gasped in horror. "I've seen those before, they're the ones that are taking the Giants and Fairies."

Galehaut tilted his head and hummed, he remembered the conversation he had with Lancelot about it a while back.

"It looks like they don't have any intention of even entering the forest, you're father and I will take care of it, but first you two need to take your breakfast." The giant said.

Galehaut and Hebe nodded and they obediently followed their mother.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking," Hebe whispered to her brother?

"Yeah." Galehaut nodded, "We need a bait though."

------

After breakfast, Galehaut went ahead to talk to his father about the situation while Hebe is anxiously waiting for her brother to return.

The moment she sensed his presence she turned around to face him.

"So, what happened?" She asked.

"We got his permission." Galehaut proclaimed with a wide grin.

Hebe twirled and celebrated. "Now we have to find our bait."

"Don't worry, I already have someone in mind," Galehaut smirked.

------

"Rou please be our bait!!" Hebe begged the fairy, giving him her irresistible puppy dog eyes.

"Won't things work on me? I was once a dog." Rous huffed.

"But c'mon, you'll be the perfect bait, we're not gonna let anything happen to you. We'll find the base of where these creatures are taking all the Giants and Fairies and with your magic, we can easily bring them back to their forests." Galehaut reasoned.

The fairy sighed. "You are very persuasive."

"Fine, I'll be your bait."

"Yes." Galehaut and Hebe cheered and gave each other a high five.

------

"So, what's the plan?" You asked.

"We'll just wing it." Hebe chuckled, earning a smack from the older fairy (well not really but technically)

"You need to have a plan before I let myself get captured," Rou spoke.

Galehaut thought for a bit and stated his plan.

"Is that good enough?" Galehaut asked.

"I guess. Just make sure it'll work." Rou nodded and flew his way outside the forest and started catching the attention of the creatures.

------

Once Rou is captured, both Galehaut and Hebe sneakily followed them as they continued to capture more Fairies and Giants.

"Galehaut look," Hebe called the attention of her brother and pointed at the castle they are slowly approaching to.

"That's our cue," Galehaut said and a spear magically popped out of his hand.

"This is is gonna be fun." Hebe chuckled and a war hammer magically popped out of her hand.

The duo wiped out the creatures with ease and set all of the Giants and Fairies free. Just as they are explaining what happened a couple more came in running towards their direction.

"You guys got captured as well?" A small fairy with purple hair asked, frantically turning around.

"You can all go back to your homes now," Rou said, using his magic to direct each one to where portal they should go.

"But the others are still in there, we can help, we're not leaving them behind." One of the Giants said.

"There's no need," Galehaut spoke, flying upwards to face them.

"I swear on the name of the Fairy King and the Queen of Giants, I will take all of them back to safety," Galehaut spoke with great vigor.

"That is my duty."

The Fairies and Giants thanked them before leaving.

"So what now?" Hebe asked.

"We go forward, I can already sense Lancelot is there... and Tristan? What is he doing there?." Galehaut responded.

------

"Lancelot." Tristan breathed out as he finally saw him again. That fairy was Lancelot this entire time. He has his suspicions as the scar on his forehead is something he can't forget. He won't be able to forget that day.

His train of thought was immediately interrupted as he heard a sound in the distance.

"Looks like something has never changed you're still as cocky as ever." A fairy floating in the sky clapped his hand, and two others flew by his side

"What are you doing here?" Lancelot asked.

"So they know each other?" Tristan thought, he looked very familiar but he can't pinpoint who exactly is he.

"So you can do your own thing and we can't. How rude." A girl flew over to them and huffed.

Lancelot sighed. "I guess you're a better help than him." Lancelot pointed at Tristan.

"Hey!!" Tristan reacted, offended by the statement.

"Who are you anyway?" Tristan asked.

"Let me jog your memory." Both of them transformed into a younger version of themselves.

"Ga-Galehaut!!! Hebe!!" Tristan shouted in disbelief. "But how?!"

Tristan is quite baffled, Galehaut and Hebe has always looked way older for their age when they met when they were kids they looked like they were already a teenager. And now looking at their new form, they look like they're in their early 20s.

"Fairy Puberty, that's what happened." Galehaut chuckled.

"So you two managed to sneak out of the forest without anyone noticing," Lancelot said.

"Nah, I talked to dad about it and he let us go," Hebe responded.

Lancelot chuckled. "Lucky"

"Lucky indeed." Tristan thought.

"So, you guys got any plans on how we sneak in," Galehaut said.

"We barge in there and beat everyone inside!!" Tristan shouted, earning a punch from Lancelot.

"He said, sneak in not barge in you idiot!!" Lancelot shouted.

[charislcarousel]

Fruits Basket Season 3 Ep 12 reactions

Ohhhhh my gosh I am shipping Yuki and Machi so hard

They are the cutest thing I’ve seen in my life😭😭😭😭

Ooh Yuki being the last one! And right when he was gonna tell her too! Tbh that part always frustrated me as a kid, though I know he told her everything anyway later in their lives

His voice acting with crying is soooo good

Aww Yuki you’re making me want to cry too

Ew why is everyone watching them

Mind yo business

Leave!!

Whatever that kiss was adorable anyway

I hope Machi makes Yuki cut his hair evenly, just a side thought😂

Plssssss Momiji and Kagura teaming up on Kyo😂😂😂

That look from Momiji?? Daaaang I was scared for a sec too Kyo

Aw ok that smile. Yeah, Momiji was my first anime crush and this glow up is why he’s sooooo cute

Awwww Yuki being afraid they’d all lose their bond without the curse

Hatori’s love confession plzzz😂😂

“Rin is watching! Intensely!”

Ahhhhh Akito is so pretty!!

Lolllll not Ritsu thinking Akito adopted his cross-dressing habits😂

I remember he was wearing men’s clothes in this scene in the manga. I was thinking they’d change that in the anime

I’m still not sure how I feel about Akito’s and Shigure’s relationship tbh…

They’re BOTH pretty toxic to each other

Like I get they’re traumatized, but…

Awww Tohru telling Kyo she’s going to move with him since he’s going away!!!!

“I want to be by your side always” !!!!!!!!

AHHHH WHEN WILL I GET A LOVE STORY LIKE THIS

Yooooooo we’re flashing back to Kyoko’s death again?!

Ohhh aww is this her realizing that Kyo will take care of Tohru for her now?

“Tohru, I wanted to love you so much more.” 😭😭😭😭

“Someone protect my treasure.” OH is she gonna notice Kyo now??

Oh gosh the horror on Kyo’s face literally made my stomach sink

Unghhhh he recognizes her and she recognizes him in return this hurtssssss

“It’s okay if you forget me, but please remember her.” My freaking HEART CAN’T TAKE THIS

“Keep our old promise or I’ll never forgive you.” To find her when she’s lost! Ohhh how I wish she’d been able to say it all! Poor Kyo was traumatized for YEARS😭😭😭

Him running away to find her again!! The parallel!!! So cool!!!!!!

Ohhh and she’s seeing Katsuya again please that’s so precious😭😭😭😭

Wowwwwww I’m hurting

Last episdoe next time!! I’ve been putting it off so long because I don’t want it to end!

[velvetart0v0]

The Magnus Protocol Ep.15 spoilers

AHHHHH THIS EP IS AMAZING

THE WAY SAM AWKWARDLY BUT MORE CONFIDENTLY ASKS OUT CELIA FOR A 2ND DATE IS JUST SOO CUTE FOR ME OMG. I love how he keeps trying to get her to verbally say "yeah sure" in the dorkiest way possible, I MEAN COULD IT BE MORE CUTE.

AND THEN ENTERS MY BELOVED GIRL DISASTER ALICE DYER. I thought Sam asking out Celia for the first time was awkward BUT ALICE JUST PROVED ME WRONG AHHHHHHH!!!

But the thing is idrk who she was trying to get with during that moment, like was she trying to get Celia to hang out with her more or have Sam hang out with her alone again "like old times" AHHH IDK WHICH. I don't mind both tho >.>

I LOVE how the horror is starting to ramp up more!! The statement was tense and enticing! And I love the gore at the end of it OMFG THE HORROR IS AMAZINGLY DONE FOR THIS EPISODE.

THE HUNT, god what else can I even say other than it's soo GOOD. Like the end statement where the caterer's head gets blown off then we hear the hunt avatar AND THEN HEARING HER MORE CLEARLY IN THE OFFICE!!!!TALKING TO CELIA!!! OMFG

I saw a comment saying that they like how the hunt now has an avatar that embodies it like Simon Fairchild or Peter Lukas AND I CAN'T AGREE MORE. I hope we get to hear more of her in the future.

Another connection of a protocol character to an archive character is the drowned victim!! It sounds like by her first lines that she might be almost be like Jane Prentiss? But vast aligned rather than corruption. Or maybe the theory where all the fears are more connected is true thus trying to label them is just a red haring of sorts. Like how it doesn't matter. idk I'm not much of a theorist lmao.

AND ALICE BEING THE FIRST ONE OF THE ACTUAL STAFF TO HANDLE A FEAR ENCOUNTER, I hope she doesn't get framed for murder. But if she does, I need her to continue what Jon went through and just stay at Sam's house while she lies low for abit. I can imagine the tension now!!

If u probably can't tell by this post, but I am a huge supporter of Alice and Sam getting back together. But I also love Sam and Celia. So I'm just sticking to the trusted polycule of the office. I mean it's the only viable option when u can't bare to choose which one u like more right.

[keeponquinning]

I just wanna be like..... I know how Eddie feels, reading about Lazarus and Cybelle because it is 100000% how I feel reading this fic sdkfsjdf just warm, comforted, invested and sucked into a whole new world.

I still remain to this, your fic is my BRIDGERTON, HAWKINS EDITION. Fueled also by the fact I just got caught up with Bridgerton so ALL THE FEELS.

spoilers for those that haven't read this and if you haven't, what are you doing with your LIFE???

first off, I couldn't help it i had to send a message to you about it but TENDONS!!! I was GIGGLING LIKE A MAD WOMAN WITH MY HANDS OVER MY HEART. IT IS MY FAVORITE WORD. and yes, it is MY WORD NOW and every time you write it, i get giggly.

They are so FUCKING CUTE. I've said this countless times but the way you write Eddie is so perfection. Not too soft, but also such a goof and just..... we want him. carnally. romantically. emotionally. physically. just ugh.

when he starts GRADING HER?? AND THEN THEY FIGHT OVER THE CLIP BOARD?!

"What, you're gonna give me detention?"

"Yeah for being a smartass!"

"GASP. YOU THINK I'M SMART?!"

"I've been saying that if you'd pay attention."

"Oh, i've been paying attention"

and then... and THEN....

"Is this a love story?"

me:

i love them i love them I FUCKING LOVE THEM

also yes, you grab onto that STRONG THIGH OF HIS. YEAH HE'S STRONG. HE SO STRONG. COULD LIFT US UP LIKE IT'S NOTHING RIGHT ON THAT DES--

okay. okay. i'm calm. i'm calm.

it's gonna be june but mentally i was in november and at thanksgiving which is also one of my faves 😌 but god, reader has it ROUGH. but i do love the inclusion of the family members, it just... it paints such a solid picture, you know? reader is just such a solid character painted with a brush of broad strokes. ( does that make sense? idk! ) and i was dying at Uncle Larry every time like OH LARRY. SHUT. Helen is a bitch lmao and i love the animosity between Helen and our mother ( i'm just gonna call her that ) and i'd hate to admit it, i would probably eat that liver dressing ( SCREECHES IN HORROR ) if my mom looked at me like that. she was drowning and needed saving, bless her. i also laughed at dad being like, "okay, I gotta know what vinne did" LMAO SO REAL FOR THIS

but oh do we sympathize with reader fantasizing about eddie throughout??? like yes, me too, we the same. ( we literally are i'm reader hi ) and those Precious Moments dolls? PER-FUCKING-FECTION. you're so.... I... Are you sure you don't write for the show bc damn.

just everything you put in this fic is so --actually exactly what eddie said about reader's story. you just picture things SO clearly and it's such a perfect world, i can so see everything you write play perfectly without a hitch in my head, it's so amazing!

also you gave me something the show never did that i want so DESPERATELY...

EDDIE AND UNCLE WAYNE MOMENTS!

i love them so much 😭

THEIR LITTLE THANKSGIVING TRADITION. THE GUTHRIE. THE KNOWING THE WORDS. SAYING THE WORDS. WAYNE'S ENCOURAGEMENT OVER THE BAND AND ASKING ABOUT THE BAND WE LOVE UNCLE WAYNE SO MUCH.

and omg... when he brought up reader... and eddie just about CHOKED ON HIS MASHED POTATOES??? and wayne being like, "she's easy on the eyes" and eddie being like, "NO, ABSOLUTELY NOT" i CACKLED

honestly i kinda toyed with the idea that wayne was like, "...she mighty fine" or something LMAOOO when he met with her. I'M GLAD IT WAS JUST TEASING AND NO BECAUSE OMG THE AWKWARDNESS. but i fucking loved the teasing and it just fucking with eddie.

but then i felt bad because he got a little sad and our boy didn't even want to eat anymore but wanted to seem cool and collected and ahhhhh. i love our boy so much 🥺

and then it was back to reading the Lazarus and Cybelle story and omg woman. stop being so FRICKIN' TALENTED. I was HOOKED and almost forgot this was stranger things lmaooo it was so engaging and the way Cybelle fought back and then tended to him and the emotions. the TOUCH.

and then that last line.....

"This was, in fact, a love story."

..... DEAD. I AM DEAD. I.... D E A D

i love u.

Don't Stand So Close To Me — Chapter 12

Eddie x Teacher!Reader

Chapter 12/? 10.7k. Series Masterlist

✏︎ Grades are high, but stakes are higher.

✏︎ Series Summary: Forced to move back home to Hawkins after your fiancé cheats on you, you begin to fall in love again with an audacious 20 year old metalhead, only there’s one problem — he’s still in high school and you’re his English teacher.

While you struggle starting over in a place you never thought you would return, Eddie struggles feeling stuck in a place he can’t manage to leave — until you offer to help him. Of all the lessons learned, the most important are the ones you teach each other.

✏︎ Series CW: forbidden romance, slow burn, true love, smut (18+ mdni), internal conflict, student-teacher relationship, 10 year age gap, mutual pining, sexual tension, emotions, drama, angst, character development, happy ending :)

Chapter warnings: flirting, play fighting, heavy angst, drinking, pregnancy mention, a heaping helping of family tension, mild fantasy blood/gore 

Special thanks to @storiesbyrhi for the beta reading on this one.

Monday, November 18th 1985

Hawkins felt different this weekend. 

Perhaps it was the ashen sky that hung over the scattered remains of a brilliant fall. The way it bathed the world in a pale, sullen wash. The way it made the rust on the signs outside the gas station seem more corrosive, the streets seem smaller, the storefronts seem older. Perhaps it was because everywhere you looked, you saw him. 

You were used to hearing Eddie in the cars that billowed smoke and blasted music as you pumped your gas. You had grown accustomed to seeing him in the crushed beer cans and cigarette butts that littered the weeds along the sidewalk, in the remnants of a good time. Those things were not unusual. But this weekend you saw him under the harsh fluorescents of the grocery store. On the crinkled label of a 99 cent can of soup. In the faces of small children as you stood in line with a cart that you could never fill alone. You saw him in the windows of subsidized apartments. Heard him in the squeak of wire hangers against the pole at the secondhand store. Felt him as you drove past the huddled rows of trailers.

On Monday after school when you sensed a tall figure in the doorway of your classroom, you half expected to look up and feel those grey skies again. To see those weed littered sidewalks and pothole riddled roads that led nowhere. But instead you saw something much brighter.

Eddie was smirking, rapping his ringed knuckles against the doorframe as he leaned into it. A look in his eyes like he was keeping a secret.

His dirty white Reeboks squeaked against the tile as he padded over to his spot in the wooden chair beside you and dropped his backpack irreverently to the floor. The gust of air that followed was painted with base notes of skin and leather, top notes of cigarette smoke and a bright hint of shampoo. Not a trace of rain.

You gathered the papers in front of you, shuffling them into a pile in the corner as you glanced over at him, unable to suppress the smile breaking out on your face. “What?” 

The smirk twisted deeper on his lips. “I read your story.” 

It was like he said he’d seen you naked. Heat crept up your neck. “All of it?” you asked with a nervous chuckle. 

“Not exactly.” Eddie grabbed the seat between his legs and walked it closer. “I’m at the part where they’re, uh, cooking over the fire outside of Grimhold and Cybelle takes her mask off for the first time. Well, in front of Lazarus anyway.” He shrugged his leather jacket off to drape over the back of the chair. 

It was strange to hear him say those names. Names you hadn’t thought about in years, dusted off from where you shelved them in your mind. It was like he was speaking a dead language, breathing new life into it. 

You swallowed. “Oh, that part. Yeah, that’s an important moment.”  

“I had a hard time putting it down, if that tells you anything.” 

“I take that means you like it then?” 

“Like it?” he said in a breathy chuckle, leaning closer. “I’m blown away.”

Your stomach turned to mush, unable to tear your eyes away from the soft earnestness of his features. “Really?”

Eddie gave a deadpan look. “Look, I’m a huge fantasy geek, but this world you’ve created is…” he shook his head as a soft puff of air left his lips, “unlike anything I’ve ever read.”

There was a weight to his gaze, so heavy that you needed to break it. “Oh wow, um, thank you,” you said, glancing at the paperclips on your desk as heat made a home in your cheeks again. “It’s been ages since I’ve read it myself honestly.” In the same span of time you still never learned how to take a compliment.

“Yeah—no, I mean it. It’s really good.” He tipped his head towards you, searching for your eyes. “I like that it’s, uh, based in a sort of… reality, if that makes sense. Like the whole thing about illness being a problem and how the change in the atmosphere makes Cybelle dizzy. The gold and how it powers machines. Stuff like that. It’s clever.”

You found the courage to meet his gaze again. “Well, thank you. I mean I’m definitely no Tolkien, but…”

 Eddie scoffed. “Honestly? Tolkien takes three pages to describe a door. You never need to and yet the world is crystal clear.”

The ease that washed over you escaped through a chuckle. “You know, I always thought that killed the pacing.”

“It does! God, I mean don’t get me wrong, he is the grandfather of fantasy but Jesus Christ.”

Your laughter mingled, soft and easy, coloring the air in the space between you. It echoed off the tile floor and concrete walls as beams of golden sunlight poured in through the row of windows to your right. The rays made a halo of his hair, catching the frizz that escaped the pattern of his curls. 

Eddie’s eyes sparkled, and you would search for the hurt in them. You knew it was there, hiding somewhere deep in those pools of molten chocolate, but in this moment there was no trace to be found. 

“Hell, maybe I should consult you for my campaigns,” he said scooting his chair impossibly closer. Close enough to feel his aura. To feel the hair on his arm tickle against yours. 

“Jeez, don’t flatter me.” You were surprised at how steady your voice came out.

“No, I’m serious,” he said, his eyes drifting toward your lips. “Okay, don’t tell the boys but I’m actually kind of stuck on this one part coming up.”

You snorted. “Right, because I have such a good rapport with the boys.”

The smile lines deepened around his smirk. “Ok, so… the final boss is coming up and I kind of want there to be a plot twist but I’m not sure how to like, make that work.”

“Alright, well what’s happened in the story so far?”

There was a glimmer of mischief in his eyes before his voice dropped to a theatric narration. 

“There’s a dark, evil force in the village of Hammerfall,” he began with a wave of his hand. “Crops are withering, livestock perishing. The villagers say it’s a curse put on by a spurned old crone who vanished into the forest, never to be seen again.” 

The gooey smile breaking out on your features could not be contained. A new color in the lexicon of hues you knew his voice to be. Rich with iridescent animation, reaching deep enough to turn your heart to putty.

“Six brave adventurers investigate the cause and venture deep into the nearby woods where they encounter harpies,” he emphasized, flourishing his fingers, “dryads, and a forest teeming with dark activity. There’s something deeper going on…” he paused for dramatic effect, “or at least I want there to be,” Eddie chuckled, breaking character as his voice snapped back into its normal cadence. “Originally I was just going to have it be that the old crone is a kind of sorcerer but we already sort of figured that, you know? I feel like that’s too predictable. I want it to be something, I dunno, more interesting?” 

You blinked as you willed your dopey mouth to move. “So she’s, um, going to be the final boss I take it?”

“Yeah, but that’s like, totally predictable right?”

“Hmm.” Resting your elbow on the desk and your finger between your lips, you thought for a moment. “What if she’s like, I dunno, possessed by something else? Like maybe there’s an even darker force at work and it’s just using her as a puppet or something?”

Eddie’s eyes lit up like Christmas. “I like the way you think.” His voice was tinged with a playful darkness.

You tucked your fingers behind your ear in reflex. “I mean I have no idea what it would be, but…”

“No—no that’s a good place to start. I think I actually have an idea of who could do that sort of thing, like in the monster manual. He’s a sort of… necromancer.” 

You nodded. “Oh yeah, that sounds plausible enough. Maybe there’s some sort of clue that gets left behind when she dies or something. Maybe there are like, markings on her body or some sort of strange amulet or… something that would lead to clues about who might be behind this.”

Eddie nodded along, his eyes growing wilder with every word. “Hey uh,” he began, leaning in like he was about to share a secret. “I don’t… know if anybody’s told you lately but…” his soft breath feathered your cheek, “you’re pretty brilliant.” 

It was the way he said it. Soft in tone, heavy with intention. Peering under his lashes like he wanted to kiss you. You swallowed, hard, as your heart pounded into your throat. “No uh,” you choked on your laugh, “not lately.” Breaking his gaze, you fiddled with your green grading pen and pressed your thumb nail into the gummy gripper. 

With startling animation, Eddie grabbed a spare piece of paper from the pile on your desk and snatched the pen out of your hand. 

“Hey!”

“Not like you were using it,” he teased, swiping your attendance clipboard to prop the sheet against. 

Your mouth fell open. “Well… no… but—”

He turned the pen over in his hand and clicked it a few times. “So much power in this little tool.” Putting it to the paper, he etched a green mark that would form the first letter of your first name. “Hmm what grade am I going to give you?” he tapped the pen against his lips.

You raised your eyebrows. “Oh you’re grading me now?”

“Well you definitely have attention to detail down, so A for that.” His hand hurried across the page, flourishing as he marked the A.

You sat back in your chair, thoroughly amused. “How generous of you.”

His eyes crinkled as he scribbled against the paper, clipboard cradled in his left arm to shield it from you. “Let’s see, what’s next… oh I know. Creativity. A plus for that one.”

You rolled your eyes, a weak diversion for how hot your face was getting. “How ‘bout I give you an A plus for being a total cheeseball?”

“Ohh wit — A for that one too.” His tongue darted out, nimble hand dragging your pen across the page. 

It was almost uncomfortable, the grip he had on you. How he could make you feel with a gesture, a word. “Ok enough flattery, give it back,” you said, reaching for the clipboard.

Eddie jerked it away. “Sense of humor, hmm, might have to give you a B for that one.” He shot you a smirk.

You balked. “Oh come on!”

“…B minus.” 

A laugh escaped you. “Eddie!”

His eyes were full of mischief as he scribbled frantically against the paper. “What, never got a B before? First time for everything, sweetheart,” he jested with a firm shake of his head. 

It was hard to be offended when your brain was short circuiting. 

“Maybe we can work on it together,” he offered, biting back a snicker.

Your brain clicked back on with the glare you shot him. “Okay, that’s it.” You lunged for the clipboard, but he was slow on the juke this time. Your fingers made purchase with the masonite slab.

Gripping it like a lifeline, he practically dragged you across his lap as he lurched away. It all happened so quickly. The swift tug he gave, your hand jutting out to brace the first thing in proximity — his denim clad thigh.

There was a pause in the movement. Heat lit up your whole body, radiating from the point of contact. 

His leg was warm and solid under your palm. So too was his shoulder nestled into yours as you reached across his lap, deeper into the bubble of his scent. You didn’t dare look him in the eyes, but in your close peripheral you could see his mouth; gaping just as yours was. 

Recovered from shock, the tension resumed in his tugging, and you responded with equal and opposite force. Your hand remained planted. For balance.

“So serious!” Eddie teased, wild hair bouncing as he jerked.

“I am serious, give it back.” Maybe it was your bright, airy giggles that gave you away, but he didn’t seem convinced.

God he was strong. You could feel the tremble of his arm emanating through the clipboard. Feel the flex of his bicep against yours as you fought his strength. You allowed yourself, for just a moment in the struggle, to glance at the one furthest to you. To follow his white, angular knuckles down to his wrist and see tendons flex against blue veins. To trace the curve of his inked forearm, to the bend of his elbow, to the bulge of his bicep. Your eyes lingered there. At the swell under his velvet skin. It surprised you, how large the muscle was, so much that it caused your grip to slip for just a second. 

It only made him tug harder, but not too hard, you noticed. Gentleman he was, trying to play fair. It was, however, hard enough to draw you further across his lap, further into his scent, close enough to slot your chest into his outstretched bicep and feel it tremble. You fought to regain your hold, hooking your fingers over the top and yanking back with an invigorated fervor. 

“Wai-wai-wait I’m not finished! I haven’t even gotten to ‘plays well with others’,” he wheezed, breaking into a warm, bubbly chuckle right against your ear.

You could barely eke out words. Sweat dampened your hand against the denim as his thigh flexed with every tug. A large, strong muscle that glided and stiffened under his heated skin. “Give it back,” you gritted weakly.

Soft curls tickled your cheek, feathered your lips and nose. You could smell it deeper than ever; that bright shampoo, that warm musk radiating from his neck. 

“What, you gonna give me detention?” he quipped, turning his head to steal a glance from you. 

Your mouth hung open. It was the way he said it, so defiant and cocksure. Daringly taunting for someone whose face was blotched pink. “Yeah, write you up for being a smartass,” you choked out with a pointed tug while your other hand burned a hole in his thigh. 

He gasped dramatically, pausing in the struggle. “You think I’m smart?” His tone was comically serious. It was scary how easy he could feign it on a dime. 

You deadpanned. “I’ve been telling you that this whole time. Maybe you should pay more attention.”

“Oh I’m paying attention.” 

“Oh yeah, to what?” 

It was all you could do not to stare at the ridges of his neck as his Adam’s apple bobbed, pink lips twitching, eyes darting between yours.

“That’s what I thought.” You seized the split second opening in his defense and snatched your dignity back.

His fingers clung desperately to the clipboard. “Ok—ok, I’ll give it back, I promise, just answer one question for me… about your book,” he panted, ghosting your lips with it.

It was those goddamn Bambi eyes that defeated you. Large, almond, pleading. His last, pathetic line of offense. “Fine,” you sighed.

“Is this a love story?” he murmured, close enough to taste his words.

They hung like a cloud. Heavy and potent. Threatening to burst. Hovering in the fractional distance between you.

“I—” you balked, voice trapped in your throat. 

The tugging ceased. Arms went slack. Fingers dampened masonite and paper. Eyes flicked back and forth. Yours caught the dip in his lids as they lowered to your lips, the long, gentle curve of his lashes as he peered at you from under them. 

You could not will your hand to move. It was glued there like his eyes were on you. Clammy fingers twitched against warm denim, itching to snake them further, to pull him closer, to commit each aching second to memory. 

Your eyes dipped next, quick enough to see his nerves make subtle twitches in his smile lines. To catch the parting of his plush, pink mouth that drew you like a magnet. Your heartbeat drowned out any sounds of pinballs. 

You could have done it. Moved your chin two inches. Snatched his pout.

Instead you swallowed and summoned a whisper. “You’ll have to find out for yourself.”

______

Your childhood home had gone rather unchanged since you had moved out of it. A little one-story ranch built in the 50s. Looking at it from the outside, it always amazed you that it could fit three bedrooms within its four walls. Plain and unassuming. White exterior, green shingled roof, a brick flower bed underneath the big bay window in front. Your mother had planted a tidy row of mums in it for fall. There was hardly a stray leaf to be found fluttering across the small, manicured lawn.

Inside you were greeted with the same paneled living room walls, painted powder blue now. The same family portraits from when you were seven, another from when you were ten, and then thirteen. Clean white carpet. Neat and orderly. Your old room had become a craft room soon after college. There was hardly a trace of you left. The Led Zeppelin and Beatles posters were the first to go, replaced with more tasteful decor like cross-stitched landscapes. A singer sewing machine was now perched on the desk you spent countless hours huddled over in study. Nick-knacks took up residence in your bookshelves. The purple walls were painted over with a powder yellow.

Mickey’s room remained largely unchanged. Bigger than yours, though you never had the heart to move over. It served as a guest room now, the full size bed still dressed in the quilt he used, the one your grandma made. Same cobalt blue walls. Your mother still dusted his trophies. 

What was most different was the table that stretched from the small dining room part-way into the living room. It was decorated with candlestick holders that looked like turkeys wearing hokey pilgrim hats. Those were definitely new. You wondered where your mother picked them up.

Both you and your mom would assume your roles — hers as host, and yours as helpful. You would busy yourself with the little things first. Details like folding linen napkins just how she instructed; in cascading triangles. You would sit at the end of the table and press daydreams into them. Quiet fantasies of warm nights and summer winds. Folding in details like the scent of leather and smoke inside the van, the sweet country air gusting through the windows. Details like how you imagined freedom would taste — slick and hot, hungry and lazy with room for seconds.

Once finished, you placed your folded secrets where they belonged — under the dinner forks.

You were making yourself useful with a can of cranberry sauce when your relatives arrived. The kind with whole cranberries. Clamping the gummy handles of the can opener and twisting as the teeth bit into the metal lid. Last year you’d made your own. Simmered sugar and orange juice in a pot over a real flame in your own house, added plump red berries and heated them until they burst. Dan’s mom said it was her favorite thing on the table.

This year you scooped cold, jelly chunks into an plain glass bowl, running the spoon down the ridges like a washboard. You were tapping off the bitter excess when the front door cracked open, ushering the sound of familiar voices colored in casual pleasantries. 

They would find you there eventually — in the kitchen putting rolls into a basket. It was effort, to smile and laugh and act like you were doing great. It was easier to act like you were busy. 

You hadn’t seen them since Connie and Cameron’s wedding. A sweltering day in mid-July. The last place on Earth you wanted to be. You’d spent most of it swallowing your feelings. Washing down saccharine cake with acrid mimosas. Sitting at a vacant table littered with party favors and sweating, half-empty glasses while your relatives slow danced to I Want To Know What Love Is by Foreigner. 

Your Aunt Helen and Uncle Larry spared no expense for their daughter and her new husband, from the country club venue to the live band. From the four course dinner to the three tiered tower of a cake.

Connie’s dress was beautiful. An ivory silk with princess puff sleeves and a train that stretched down the aisle. Like a limited edition Barbie still inside the box.

You hadn’t said much to her then — a tepid congratulations from behind a tired mask. It was all you could offer besides cash in a Hallmark greeting card. You doubted she noticed. She was busy anyway, as all brides were on their wedding day. It’s not like you were really that close to begin with. Not close in age with her being seven years your junior, not close in interests or hobbies. Not even close in proximity for most of her adult life, until recently. 

What you remembered more than anything was the way your grandma looked at her that day — like she’d hung the moon. She’d looked at you like that before of course — adorned with sashes in the parking lot as you clutched your first diploma. In the shade outside the the stadium as you cradled your second. When you reached across the table to present your ring to her.

You were reaching across the table to place the steaming basket of rolls by the cranberry sauce when you caught that look again — at Connie, the Sears catalog between them blanking the napkins you’d placed so carefully.

“See, I was thinking about this matching set with the dresser and changing table. See how it’s sort of built in like that?” Connie explained, leaning in toward your grandmother at the head of the table. 

Your stomach did a sinking somersault, eyes magnetized to her pastel pink fingernail tapping against the full spread of baby furniture. 

“Oh my, well isn’t that convenient. Yes I do like the natural wood grain of this one, the lighter color,” your grandma added.

You tried to swallow it away. Pretend like you didn’t even notice. Like the cheering coming from the living room was summoning you. You could still hear them as your stocking feet crossed over the divide from the hard wood to the plush carpet.

“I was thinking the same thing. It’ll go nicely with the paper we’ve picked out for the walls. Oh shoot, I meant to bring the sample. Sorry, I’ve been so spacey lately.” Connie’s sticky sweet chuckle clung to your hammering ears.

Suddenly your mother’s Precious Moments collection had never been so fascinating. Looking past your anguished reflection in the glass cabinet, you drank in their big, dopey eyes. Vignettes of little cherub hands clutching flowers, posing as firefighters and dentists. Droopy eyed children sitting on see-saws and garden benches. Frozen in their perfect little worlds.

“Oh that’s quite alright dear,” your grandma’s gentle reassurance echoed from the dining room. “I can come over and see sometime after my knees are healed, plenty of time between now and April.”

You tried to blink away the image — your old craft room on Clementine painted pastel pink or blue, filled with furniture from the pages of Connie’s catalog. It probably was at this point. Your eyes burned a hole in a ceramic cherub head as heat rose in your veins.

The sound of a whistle drew your attention to your uncle and cousins crowded around your family’s meager television. 

“Oh COME ON!” Larry bellowed as the plastic cushions squeaked under his shifting weight. “There’s no way that was a foul, you see that, Kevin?” he gestured to his son, slumped against the couch half asleep. “Total baloney.”

Cameron adjusted his glasses as he shifted forward. “Oh yeah his foot was totally on the line, I bet we can catch it on replay.”

“Where do they find these damn refs anyway? The academy for the blind? HA!” Larry sat back in his seat and cracked another beer, amused with himself.

You raked your eyes over the blurring sea of dolls again, drowning in your thoughts until one of them pulled you to the surface. On the middle shelf behind the one in the lab coat and stethoscope, this one stood in front of a big desk with a stack of books and an apple on it and held a large slab in front of her. You crouched down to read the fine print.

Report Card

Kindness…A

Mercy…A

Love…A

Faithfulness…A

Your stomach twisted into knots. Phantom touches ghosted over your hands and arms, wrapped themselves around your heart and squeezed. You caught your own eyes in the mirror behind the dolls — sad and droopy just like theirs, only painted with shame and longing instead. 

Uncle Larry’s voice boomed through the room again. This time it was coming from the television while the Larry on the couch shushed your cousins like they were even making noise to begin with.

“At Bessler Ford we’ve always got the best deals, and this Thanksgiving we’re practically GIVING these cars away!”

“Hey you guys seen the new one?” Larry called out to the rest of the house. 

The question was met with weak replies from Connie and Grandma looking up from the catalog in the dining room. You wondered if your parents even heard him from the kitchen. With lukewarm enthusiasm, you humored him with your attention, mind swimming with pinball thoughts, eyes glazing over as you stared at the screen. Then, like a sudden apparition, your mother emerged from the kitchen and snatched the remote from the end table.

“ZERO down, ZERO interest, we’re prating BEGGING you—”

Like a Wild West gunslinger quick on the draw, the TV blipped off with a fizzle.

“Aw come on!” Larry protested.

“Dinner’s ready, time to eat,” she stated firmly, her expression unamused.

As your family peeled themselves off the couch and shuffled over to the table, you found your seat on the carpet side of the divide. 

Even with the extra leaf there was no fitting nine at a six person table, so there had been some improvising. The two tables were covered in linens you didn’t recognize. Starchy and stiff, a cream brocade with a fall leaf pattern that shimmered in the light. Your mom must have steamed them to get the creases out from the packaging. Though matching, they couldn’t hide the fact that they were different shapes. 

Your side of the family took their places at the smaller square table, and your cousins found theirs at the rectangle.

Aunt Helen’s green halo of fruit jello jiggled as your dad triumphantly plunked the carved turkey in the center of everything. 

It rested awkwardly on the seam between the two tables, a sloping butterball bridge. 

You watched the juices gather at the lower end of it as everyone around you lowered their heads to utter the words of a half-hearted prayer, the meaning long forgotten with tired repetition. 

Barely a second of silence passed before a manicured hand shot out from your left, reaching to steady the platter so it favored her side. “You know, it really was nice of you to offer to host,” Helen said to your mother across from you, “but perhaps next year we can have the honor. We have plenty of space for it.”

The suggestion was met with a tight lipped smile. “Next year we’ll be back at mom’s,” she quipped at her younger sister.

The tension was thick enough to slice. A heavy backdrop to the clinking of silverware against ceramic as servings were doled out. You busied your hands with the nearest thing to you — a warm bowl of mashed potatoes, dolloping a generous helping onto your plate and pressing a crater into the center with the back of the spoon. You passed the bowl toward your right to your dad at the head of the smaller square table.

It was your grandmother who broke the silence. “Helen you do have a lovely home, if you really wanted to host I wouldn’t be opposed,” she said, breaking the molded perfection of the green halo with her serving spoon. “Less work for me to do anyway.”

You caught it. The flicker of dejection in your mother’s eyes, cast down at the crisp table linens. Fleeting and momentary before her shoulders resumed their rigid posture, before she corrected her expression and reached across the table to usher a thick slice of turkey breast onto her plate.

Helen looked delighted as she plucked a roll from the basket. “Well thanks, mom. Besides, this time next year there will be ten of us.”

You stared down at your plate, shuffling your green beans with your fork. 

The conversation would lighten up over steamy, buttered rolls and Betty Crocker stuffing. It would soften to a casual cadence about Cameron’s new accounting job at the dealership. How the pay raise from his previous job could afford he and Connie a house on Chestnut street. How the decorating had been going. How your dad was managing the hardware store this time of year. 

You would sit there in silence and unfold your secrets; smooth the linen against your lap and feel your sweating hand on his rigid thigh; the ghost of his breath at your lips when he asked you if this was a love story. You would prod at your potatoes and indulge in the fantasy of closing the gap. Conjure the cradle of his plush cupid’s bow and taste his wicked grin. Swallow the sensation of how it might feel to have a belly full of him.

Your spoon broke the gravy dam, flooding your plate.

“Dear, aren’t you going to have any liver dressing? You’re the one who made it after all. It’s quite good, isn’t it?” Your mother asked you, glancing at your grandma.

You choked on your daydream. “I—um…”

“It’s kinda chunky,” Kevin commented through a mouthful. “I mean compared to how grandma makes it.” 

Your grandma offered a sympathetic smile. “It’s a tricky recipe.”

She wasn’t wrong. It was tedious to put it mildly. It involved bread crumbs, cooked liver and ham, and a food processor. But it was a family recipe and she just had knee surgery so your thoughtful mother volunteered you to take up the reigns. How generous.

“It’s still quite good, isn’t it?” your mom asked her before turning back to you. “Why don’t you try some, you’ll see.”

You stared down at the square, pyrex dish. You never liked liver dressing. It looked like cat food cut up into little squares, the crispy edges making it only slightly more appealing. It was the texture that always got you. Mushy and homogenous. Admittedly you’d never actually tasted cat food but you wondered how it compared.

“No thanks, my plate’s already so full,” you said through feigned laughter.

There was that flicker in her eyes again, like the flames above the new ceramic turkeys. 

“Mom, come on, I don’t…” you glanced around at your relatives, busying themselves with the contents of their own plates. 

Your mother set her fork down. Her gaze flicked toward your grandma tucking her spoon happily into Helen’s jello. “Why don’t you try just one bite, sweetie.”

Huffing through your nose, you stared down at the dish, then back up at her. There was only one way this was going and you didn’t want to cause a scene. With a placid smile, you picked up the serving spoon and scooped a bite-size portion onto your plate, giving a single, solemn tap against the ceramic before setting it back in the tray.

You glanced around the still silent table, then back at your mother, still watching you intently from across the flickering candles. Defeated, you started down at the lump of mushy cat food on your plate. Scooping it up with your spoon, you brought it to your lips with a resigned sigh before opening your mouth. 

It wasn’t terrible. The rich umami of the fat and the seasonings almost made up for the texture, and quite honestly, the chunks helped. You still didn’t like it. You would never like it. You’d been forced to eat it your whole life and your opinion still hadn’t changed. Whether your mother could accept that was another subject.

You swallowed, finally, to your relief and probably everyone else’s, if they were paying attention. “I’d give it a solid C,” you stated flatly. Your mother was not amused.

“C’s get degrees,” Larry added, laughing at his own joke.

Your dad tipped his head to you. “Well I’d definitely give it a higher grade than that, but I guess you are the expert when it comes to grades, huh?” 

You humored him with a soft, pained smile, tucking into your stuffing again in hopes of replacing the taste in your mouth. You washed it down with a swig of champagne and the sweet tingle cleansed your palate. 

They left you alone after that, with thoughts too loud for your beverage to drown out. Pinball thoughts and summer thoughts. Echos of bright laughter off tile flooring. A rich, warm hum at the shell of your ear. Words like timeless and sweetheart. Loud enough to drown out dull conversations for the duration of the meal. 

“Mom can I go to Vinnie’s after this?” asked Kevin.

Helen shot him a stern look from across the table. “You may absolutely not go to Vinnie’s. I told you I don’t want you hanging out with that boy anymore.”

Kevin rolled his eyes. “Come on, it’s not a big a deal.”

“It absolutely is a big deal. I said no, and that’s final,” she said, punctuated by the stabbing of her fork into white meat.

Candles wavered in the tension as orange wax dripped down the sides. Not a sound aside from chewing and silverware against ceramic.

It was your dad who broke the silence. “Ok, I gotta know what Vinnie did.”

Connie bit back a smirk, eyes shifting around the table. “Vinnie got suspended for bringing,” she glanced at your grandma before mouthing, “pot to school.”

There was an audible stir from the table.

Your grandma clutched her chest. “At St. Michael’s?”

You bit your lip at her reaction, cheeks quivering as you struggled to keep a straight face.

“I know, mom. It’s appalling,” said Helen, “I really thought we could have avoided this sort of thing by choosing a private school.”

It was then that Larry turned to you. “Yeah, I bet you see this kinda stuff all the time at Hawkins, don’t you?” 

It was a dig. You might have been polite but you certainly weren’t stupid. “Not as often as you think,” you said flatly, taking another bite of cranberry sauce to busy your mouth before something regrettable came out.

“You know, Kevin, I had a friend in high school who smoked pot, you know where that got him?”

Just what everyone needed, Uncle Larry’s wisdom. You sighed and stared blankly ahead. It was everything you could do to keep your eyes from rolling back into your head. 

“Flippin’ burgers at Benny’s, that’s where,” he concluded before taking a swig of his beer. He set it down with solid thud, as if that made his point.

Kevin huffed and sat back in his chair looking more disappointed than convinced.

You thought about Eddie Munson again, perfumed with cigarettes and covered in tattoos. Thought about him at this table and wondered where he’d fit. Between you and your Aunt Helen? Across from your mother pretending to enjoy liver dressing? At the seam between the square and the rectangle?

There used to be ten at the table. Before that there were eleven.

Your most secret daydreams wafted in on summer winds. They hinged on the changing of seasons and circumstances. You thought about this table without your chair. Of the flickering candles in your mother’s eyes; the way they hinged on you. 

Your hands toyed with the linen in your lap. As far fetched as a future was, you wondered, desperately, if both ends could ever meet.

If the two of you would ever have a place among the dolls.

______

Thanksgiving was Eddie’s second favorite holiday. After Halloween of course, for obvious aesthetic reasons. Having no extended family in Hawkins, his Thanksgivings had always been small. Some better than others. There was the one shortly after his dad went to jail for the first time. He was only six, but there were a few things he remembered — that there was no yelling at the table, that his mom seemed happy for once, and that it was his first Thanksgiving with Wayne. 

Nowadays Eddie and Wayne were like passing ships. Wayne would come home from work after Eddie left for school and go to sleep shortly after he returned. The weekends were a little better, though Eddie had a tendency to sleep in late, so that left them a few hours for early dinners together when he wasn’t galavanting around or getting into trouble.

Over the past nine years, the two Munson men had developed their own Thanksgiving traditions.  

Wayne wasn’t much of a cook, but each year he would go out and get the smallest turkey he could find and gather some essentials. The thing Eddie loved most was that Wayne always made it fun. He would always encourage Eddie to help in the kitchen, even when he was younger. 

The first staple dish was a green bean casserole. It was easy enough even for an eleven year old to open a can of cream of mushroom soup, to scoop out its contents and mix it with shredded cheddar and green beans. Simple enough to sprinkle crispy onions on top and pop it in the oven. Eddie always felt like a chef putting it together.

The second staple dish was a baked mac and cheese. Wayne picked up the recipe from a coworker in West Virginia. It was pretty simple too. More hearty than your traditional stovetop Kraft. It involved heavy whipping cream, eggs, and three different kinds of cheese. Nothing compared to baked Thanksgiving mac fresh out of the oven. It was thick, and rich, and the cheese was browned to a crisp on top. The noodles had just the right amount of chew and the center was melted perfection. 

As Eddie got older some new traditions developed. Wayne started letting him in on the beer when he turned 18. Something about “I know you’re doin’ it, might as well be doin’ it safe under my roof.” Wayne was pretty lenient about most things. More than anything, Eddie got the sense that Wayne just wanted him to feel like there a place he could call home. 

There was one Thanksgiving tradition that stood above them all — the sacred text, the soundtrack to every Munson Thanksgiving — Alice’s Restaurant.

Every year like clockwork Wayne would dig the record out of his collection and Arlo Guthrie would accompany the two of them as they strained pasta, cracked eggs, and opened cans. He would spin his long-winded sermon, his odyssey, about one fated Thanksgiving and the trials and tribulations of dumping trash where it shouldn’t go and how it can spare you from getting drafted. The song was nearly twenty minutes long and took up one full side of the record. Wayne would play it over and over to the point where both of them had most of the damn thing memorized, which was difficult to do considering it was mostly just Arlo rambling a story over chords with the chorus thrown in here and there.

Tucking his legs underneath him, Eddie cradled his heaping plate, shifting his balance so that it didn’t end up in his lap when the couch cushion dipped as Wayne took his spot. 

“Damn boy, I sure do hope your stomach’s as big as them eyes. Mine’s hurtin’ just lookin’ at all that.”

Eddie cracked a wicked smile and leaned in like he had some kind of secret. “You know, you can get anything…”

Wayne raised his eyebrows, playing along. “Anything?”

“Anything you want,” he quoted Arlo before shoveling a heap of stringy mac and cheese into his mouth. 

Wayne brought his broad, calloused hand down on top of his head and gave his mop of curls a playful ruffle. Eddie chuckled through a mouthful, balancing the plate in his lap.

It was good like this. Sitting on the couch with a heaping pile of food. The B side of the record spinning with fuzzy familiarity as Charlie Brown’s Thanksgiving played quietly on the small TV in front of them.

He didn’t need a table to enjoy it. Besides, the couch was way more comfortable than any stiff chair. The paper towel tucked underneath his plate did as good a job as any to wipe his mouth. Eddie was thankful for moments like these, and Wayne more than anything.

“You still doin’ game night tomorrow?” he asked.

“Nah, school’s closed so I guess they get a pass,” Eddie answered, “I mean I thought about making everyone get together anyway but I dunno where we’d meet. Still gonna do band practice on Saturday though.”

“Oh yeah? Whatcha been practicing?”

“Uh, been kinda on a Sabbath kick lately. Hand of Doom, War Pigs, early stuff,” he said, barely denting his mashed potato mountain.

Wayne took a stab at his turkey. “Y’all sound pretty good. An’ I’m not just sayin’ that.”

“Well… thanks.” Eddie toyed with his food, running his fork along the solid, jelly ridges of the of cranberry sauce.

“You guys oughta play more places, maybe after you graduate.” 

He raised his eyebrows as he chewed. “You sound awfully confident about that last part.”

“I am,” Wayne started, “after last Friday anyway. Got to meet that teacher of yours who’s been givin’ you all sortsa help.”

Eddie choked, shielding his mouth with his fist as he hacked mashed potatoes from his windpipe.

“Y’ ok Ed?” 

“Yeah—yeah, just uh,” he wheezed. He met you? Jesus. He wasn’t sure if his head was spinning more over the lack of oxygen or the implications. 

“Y’ know, she sure had an awful lotta good to say about you.”

“Did she?” Eddie asked between coughs. A deep embarrassment bubbled in his gut. 

“Sure did. You really lucked out this year. She really seems to… I dunno. Get it. Get you. Real sweet young thing, I’ll tell you what.”

Eddie thought his mashed potatoes might end up on the carpet. 

“Ain’t hard on the eyes either,” Wayne muttered before taking a sip of his beer.

“WAYNE.” Eddie wanted to crawl out of his skin. Dig a hole. Bury his own skeleton in the back yard between the laundry posts.

There was a glint in his eyes, like he was catching onto something. “What? A fact’s a fact.”

“Ok enough, please.” Eddie ran his hands down his heated face, certain he was absolutely crimson. 

Wayne just chuckled harder, like the torture entertained him.

Suddenly he was eleven years old again. Standing outside the auditorium with his guitar slung over his shoulder as parents and classmates filtered out in droves. 

“Come on boy, time to go.” 

Eddie fussed with his stiff pleather jacket, looking left and right with a growing desperation. “Can we wait just like… five more minutes? I wanna tell Chrissy good job.”

Wayne’s eyes sparkled with a curious mischief, “Oh I see. Got a little crush huh?”

Eddie hardened his lips into a line and fumed. “I do not, I just wanna say good job. God.” He glanced around,  growing claustrophobic, jacket suffocating him with heat. “You know what, let’s… let’s just go,” he huffed as he marched toward the glass exit.

What was he going to do? Storm off? Slam the door like a fucking child?

No. Instead, Eddie just sat there, staring a hole into his heap of Thanksgiving as the plate grew heavy in his sweating hands. Suddenly he wasn’t hungry anymore.

“Oh come on, Ed. I’m just teasin’.”

There it was again. The heat that lit his skin like fluorescent lights as he stared down problems he was too stupid to solve. 

“It’s fine,” Eddie muttered, vision blurring as Snoopy doled out helpings on the television. The record skipped with a steady rhythm in the silence of its end.

You had met Wayne. He knew now, who you were to him. There was no unknowing that. What did he think? That he was going to bring you by some day? Introduce you as his girlfriend? Would Wayne even believe it or would that be a joke to him too?

In the countless visions of you that played out like tapes in his mind, this part always came in fuzzy. Now it was prickling static. 

He wanted to get up; to wrap his plate in tinfoil and throw it in the fridge; retreat to his bedroom like he always did. But he was already doing a piss poor job at playing it cool and he knew that would only make it worse.

So he sat there and ate it. Swallowed his shame and frustration, chased it with a solemn resignation. 

Sometimes he could almost forget. When the books sprawled out on the big desk came from his home and not his locker. When the names on your tongues were from fiction and not history. When impulse took hold of his hands and they took hold of yours. 

Sometimes his visions were more unbelievable than his wildest campaigns. You, hammering your next novel into a keyboard. Him, surprising you with kisses and a sandwich prepared in a kitchen you both shared. A home together in some far off place that neither of you knew the name of yet.

Sometimes, in the bubbling laughter that clouded the space between you, he could almost forget his place.

By the time the credits rolled on the TV, he couldn’t stomach another bite. 

“I think, uh,” Eddie looked down at the half-eaten mess on his plate, “I think my eyes were too big for my stomach.”

He got up without another word, dumped the scraps into the garbage, and resigned to his room.

______

Eddie fluttered open his heavy lids, adjusting his eyes to the darkness that swallowed him. It had been light out when he’d closed them, though he barely remembered doing so.

He wiped the drool from his face and peeled the now silent headphones off his sore ears. The clock on the nightstand painted his vision with a red neon glow; a tether back to reality. 7:07 PM.

Reaching toward his right, he pawed the air for the cord to the hanging lamp beside his bed and flicked it on when he made purchase with the switch. 

Before the turkey’s tryptophan took hold, he had been enjoying the cool breeze at his face as he drove his wagon leisurely along the trail through the Ashmar forest. 

Eddie squinted against the light and rubbed his eyes as he glanced down at your world in his lap, still open right where he left off. The weight of it was like an extra blanket; heavy like a hug. It beckoned him to stay in the toasty cocoon of his bed. Though he had half a mind to get up and take a piss, the world outside was steeped in November’s chill, so instead he took the path of least resistance and dove right back in.

As much as Cybelle was concerned about illness, it was difficult for them to travel together and still keep their distance, but they seemed to have figured it out. They picked up a small tent and collapsable cot while in Torgaard which worked well enough for sleeping arrangements. While on the move, Lazarus had his place; in the driver’s seat, and Cybelle had hers; in the caravan. She would busy herself over the wood stove, crafting strange food and concoctions while Lazarus tried his best to stay alert and steer the horse.

Sometimes she would peek her head out the large window atop the singular door and talk to him. He enjoyed those moments most of all. Lazarus was learning all sorts of new things; what daily life was like in Myrne, what the city looked like and how agriculture worked for them. What Myrnish people thought of the world beneath and what had surprised her about it so far. Namely the flora and fauna. The weather. How diverse it all was. The people too. He would often catch her studying plants when they stopped to camp; taking samples and storing them in jars, pressing them to pages, sketching little drawings in her thick leather book.

“You know I would love to visit Myrne,” he turned his head and called to her, “once this is all over anyway.”

Small, russet fingers curled around bottom of the ornate caravan window frame, followed by a pensive, crescent moon face. “Many people want to visit Myrne.” 

“Right, well, not many people actually know someone from Myrne,” he added, “and I just happen to be so lucky.” 

Cybelle’s eyes crinkled in a soft, sad smile. “I would love to show you,” she began, “but I know they will forbid it.”

The wheels of the caravan creaked along the dirt path, shifting their weight with a soft thud as they drove over a rock. “Even just one person? What if I wore a mask, like yours?”

Cybelle shook her head, “The council is very strict. Even merchants are not allowed beyond the docks. There have still been plagues, even with these rules. One in my lifetime. I was quite young but I still remember… more than I would care to. We lost… so many people.”

He could hear the sorrow twinge her voice. Lazarus gave a solemn nod, staring down at the worn leather reigns as they plodded along. “I’m sorry,” he offered, “I’m sure you knew more than a few of them.”

Cybelle hummed softly, folding her arms across the bottom of the window to cradle her head. “I know just about every family in Myrne.”

Sunlight laced through the trees, dappling the road in patches of shade and light. They hadn’t seen another soul in miles. Perhaps he was becoming a bit stir crazy from all the driving but the further they plodded, the louder the questions that rolled around in his head became. 

“Forgive me if this is, uh,” he searched for the word in the leaves, “inappropriate, but with such a small population, how do you prevent, um,” his fingers toyed at the nape of his neck, “like, accidentally marrying your second cousin?”

To his relief, it earned a big, bright laugh from Cybelle, “We are not that small, around three thousand. But yes, sometimes you must be careful,” she chuckled, propping her head against her arm. “We do keep records of such things.”

“Ah,” he confirmed with a single nod as his face bloomed with heat. 

It encouraged a glimmer of mischief from Cybelle’s umber eyes. “There was a… how you say… practice, I suppose, long before the plagues when we were more open to outsiders where—”

The words were snatched out of her mouth by a sudden halt of the caravan, jerking both of them backward with startling force. The horse cried out, rearing to her hind legs in shocked protest.

“Woah—woah!” Lazarus braced himself against the wood panel in front of the driver’s seat and whipped his head around. Unable to see anything behind the mass of painted wood, he stumbled out onto the dirt to get a better look. “Just keep Turnip calm!” he called to Cybelle as she clambered off the floor.

He scanned the perimeter of the wagon. There was nothing he could see right away, that was until he looked down. Two thick vines, moving like snakes, were actively coiling themselves around the spokes of the wooden wheel. They were covered in tiny, glass-like thorns, and they seemed rather perturbed. He imagined it might have had something to do with running them over. Lazarus cursed. “We’re gonna need uh—a blade of some sort,” he shouted. 

“There’s the knife I was using by the stove,” Cybelle called back, running her hand gently along Turnip’s dapple grey neck.

“Uhh, I think we need something bigger, come take a look at this.”

Cybelle gave Turnip a soft, final pat as she turned to follow Lazarus’ voice around to the back of the caravan. She gasped when she saw it.

“Ever seen one of these… monstrosities in your books?” he asked, gesturing to the vines.

Cybelle crouched down, looking more fascinated than horrified, marveling at the way they moved, like prowling serpents. “No,” she whispered. “They must be very strong though, to stop us like that.”

Watching them coil around the spokes filled Lazarus with an eerie dread. He shuddered to think what he would find if he followed their length into the forest. That was when he remembered the wood axe. “I’ll be right back,” he said. “Please just… keep your distance.”

The axe was on the floor when he found it, as was the kettle, and the utensils, and dozens of other objects that had been launched from their careful placement. Lazarus left the caravan with a heavy sigh.

“Alright, step aside,” he said, tapping the handle of the axe against his open palm.

Cybelle scurried backward, clearing a safe distance. 

Gripping the smooth wood, Lazarus approached the vines. He shuffled his boots into the dirt as he widened his stance, taking aim about a foot from the wheel as the menacing serpents continued their slow coil. He swung with his full force, and just like chopping wood, he let the weight of the axe do its job. It severed the vines with a clean chop. Like snakes without heads, they recoiled into the forest. He swore he heard them hiss. 

Leaning against his long axe with a proud flourish, Lazarus glanced over at Cybelle. She seemed more captivated by the what remained of the plants than his demonstration, much to his quiet disappointment. 

Cybelle shuffled over to the wheel, fascinated by the green, glassy specimens. They had fallen to the  road in a heap upon severance.

“Maybe we ought to invest in a sword when we get to Fenwood,” Lazarus half-joked, “More dangerous out here than I—”

The vine that shot out from the forest snatched the words right out of his mouth, morphed them into a scream as it seized his forearm with a searing sting. In an instant he was on the ground, clawing at the dirt with his other hand as the vengeful, severed serpent lurched him from the road. 

With startling quickness, Cybelle stumbled to her feet again. She snatched the axe from the ground and chased after him.

The pain was blinding as it dragged him. Small, glassy hooks like a fire in his forearm. It made the sticks that scraped his body feel like tickles. The rocks that raked under him like a dull massage. Though his other hand flailed desperately at ferns and the damp, dead leaves that blanketed the forest floor, there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t pull back. He couldn’t stop. All he could do was scream and panic. It was hard to tell how fast he was really going, how much time had actually elapsed. The seconds felt like agonizing hours. But when he heard the dull thud of footsteps by his head, there was a glimmer of hope for his misery to end. 

A guttural scream proceeded a loud THWACK.

It would seem Cybelle had decent aim, because he wasn’t moving anymore. Clambering off the forest floor, he righted himself as quickly as he could in his spinning, pounding world. It was anyone’s guess how long they had before the next retaliating strike, and he wasn’t about to play the odds. 

“RUN,” Lazarus shouted, bolting toward the caravan as Cybelle kept pace. The axe seemed even larger clutched in her small hands. Under any normal circumstance he would have been a gentleman and taken back the burden, but this was anything but normal.

He didn’t even look at his arm. He didn’t have time. He didn’t want to. He could feel it though — the blood as it trickled down his wrist, the sting of the thorns that were likely still lodged there. 

Both he and Cybelle were barely on the driver’s platform before he was at the reigns, commanding Turnip to move with a quick snap of the leather. The dappled grey horse trotted forward with a rare sense of urgency.

Lazarus leaned back against the driver’s seat, chest heaving, more grateful than he’d ever been in his life to feel the cool wind at his face. They were a fair distance up the road before he even looked down. The sleeve of his white linen shirt was completely saturated in a wet crimson that clung to his skin.

Cybelle emerged from the caravan with an armful of bandages and jars and took the seat to the left of him on the other side of the door. 

Lazarus stared blankly ahead, mind still numb from the ebbing panic. 

“Let me see your arm,” Cybelle said gently.

He met her large eyes, now brimming with a soft concern. Slowly, he raised his trembling arm to hover in the space between them; the gap between the seats. 

Cybelle’s fingers twitched above the soaked linen. Gingerly pinching the cuff of his sleeve, she peeled it back to reveal his angry wound. 

Lazarus turned his head toward the forest, unable to look. “How bad is it?” he asked dejectedly. 

Cybelle paused for a moment, assessing the damage. “There are still some thorns, I need to pull them out. They are not too deep though,” she reassured. “You will be alright.”

It was the warmth in her voice that made him turn his head to face her, to face his wound — the mangled trail of lacerations that encircled his arm. Some of them did look quite deep, to him anyway. The bleeding seemed to have stopped on its own for the most part, thanks to his shirt. 

Shifting so that her feet now faced him, Cybelle scooted forward in her seat so that her lap was below him and grabbed a pair of tweezers. Her hands hovered above his arm, and for a moment Lazarus wasn’t sure if it was the rocking of the wagon or her proximity to him that caused her hands to tremble. There was a deep fear in her eyes, and not just from the wound.

His palm faced up at her, close enough to feel the heat of her body. 

In their brief time together they had always kept their distance. Lazarus in the driver’s seat, Cybelle in the caravan. Separated by walls and windows, tents and masks. At night, she would indulge him with her naked smile from across the campfire. Blinding and brilliant, like the crescent moon above them.

Lazarus held her eyes from across his offering; a bloody bridge that hovered in the space between them. 

With hesitant acceptance, she lowered her fingers slowly, then her eyes, guiding his arm to rest across the bandage in her lap.

The wink of her tweezers in the sunlight encouraged him to study the trees again. He gripped the leather reigns to brace himself.

Her touch was delicate and tentative as she steadied his arm, like his skin was a hot iron, and hers at risk to burn.

He flinched when she pulled the first thorn.

“Sorry,” Cybelle soothed.

He flinched again when she pulled the second. And the third, fingers writhing against the warm silk of her dress. 

“I know it hurts, but you must stay still,” she quelled. 

Lazarus allowed himself a glimpse back at her large, uneasy eyes that shone over the crescent moon. “H—how many more are there?” He didn’t dare lower his gaze to count.

With deeply furrowed brows, Cybelle scanned his arm, “Perhaps…fifteen?” she guessed. “They are small, it is difficult to say.”

Lazarus gave a heavy sigh and slumped into the seat, straining to find some comfort in the greenery that passed them. His head bumped dejectedly against the wagon as it swayed along the path. Fifteen. He tried not to think about it, but instead found himself wondering how badly it would scar. His fingers trembled as he braced himself for the next sting.

Instead he felt a hand.

Featherlight touches at the heart line of his palm. 

Lazarus glanced over his shoulder, expecting to find fear in those deep, upturned ovals. Instead there was something much softer. 

It was hiding just under the curve of her lashes, in the tender brush of her fingertips — a quiet fascination. 

His chest rattled, with more than just adrenaline. Her eyes would surely raise at any moment and he braced himself to meet them, but instead she did something much bolder.

She lowered her palm. 

It nestled into the groove and slope like it belonged there. Her skin like warm, russet earth against the vast, snowy landscape of his. When her fingers got brave enough to curl around the back, he allowed his pale digits to follow suit. 

They sat like this a moment, staring at the knot of palms and fingers with a gentle awe. Her cheeks dimpled under the ivory crescent, and despite the radiant sting, Lazarus found himself smiling too.

Finally, Cybelle met his eyes and readied her tweezers again. “Are you ready?” 

Lazarus tightened his grip. “I am now,” he said softly.

There were sixteen thorns. Lazarus counted. They fell one by one to the floor of the caravan. He didn’t flinch at all this time. 

She was quick and methodical, and when her work was finished, she painted his wounds with a soothing balm that smelled of mint and fresh green herbs. The sting faded to a tingle. 

What he noticed more than anything was how her fingers lingered as they left his hand to wrap the bandage.

“Thank you,” Lazarus uttered, running his hand along the neatly spiraled ridges of the dressing.

Cybelle gave a singular, dutiful nod and shyly gathered her supplies. She resumed her place, inside, and got to work reestablishing order in the mess of objects strewn about the floor. It was quiet the rest of the ride into Fenwood. 

As they approached the city, the trees grew denser, the path grew darker. Moss hung like tapestries over lichenous limbs. Frogs croaked in chorus from every direction. A peaty moisture hung heavy in the air. 

All signs pointed toward the same conclusion — they were entering the boglands. 

Eddie sat back against the heap of pillows and rubbed his arm. The one with the puppet tattoo. 

He would always wonder what you said about him, to Wayne. The words you used. Verbatim. You were always so good with them. He would watch you wield them every day, like a weapon or a spell. You could paint worlds for him as quickly as his eyes could gather them. 

It was when he was next to you that you seemed at a loss, like the concrete walls were listening, like they would shatter the illusion the two of you had conjured. It was safer to speak with your eyes, your hands, your laughter. 

Despite the volumes left unspoken, the questions left unasked and unanswered, the volume in his lap had answered one:

That it was, in fact, a love story.

______

A/N: I want to thank everyone for their patience and support while I wrote this chapter. I fought a lot of inner dragons to bring it to you, but I’m in a much better mental place now. I’m learning so much about myself in the process of writing this story, my first one of this length, and how best to keep my inner flame alive. It can be scary when it dims, but it's bright as ever now. 

I was admittedly very nervous about including so much family backstory for Teach, but I felt it was important for the telling of the story. The Precious Moments teacher doll does actually exist. It’s called “Love Never Fails” and it came out in 1984. I couldn’t have conjured it better if I tried.

As always, nothing encourages me to continue writing this story more than hearing what you think about it in comments, reblogs, and asks. It's truly the most rewarding thing for me as a writer.

I’ll be serving up some piping hot drama in 13 so stay strapped, folks!

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