#enjoy some more salt folks

[nemxricultrix]

(my bitch ass 100% intends to make the Inness Grilly Cheese tomorrow when I get things cleaned up in my house as a TREAT. Burgers can wait grilled cheese is a god send.)

[mstase]

DESCRIBING THE MOON SIGNS

some of these are based on the people I’ve met, so you may not resonate with some of it. there are also probably other aspects in your birth chart that say otherwise, so please read this with a grain of salt.

♨️ aries moon - such people have a subtle yet sharp look, often with a prominent feature like a wide forehead or a generally strong build. their fiery emotions are written all over their face, and you can spot their short fuse from a mile away. they’re not the type to bottle things up; it’s more like they need to let it out, erupting like a volcano. these folks are impulsive, prone to sudden outbursts, but surprisingly, they don’t hold onto grudges—they move on as fast as they flare up. they tend to have mood swings, being all emotional one minute and totally chill the next. there’s this childlike energy about them—they get hyped up easily and are full of passion. but just like kids, they can be pretty immature when it comes to handling their feelings. when they were young, they might have fought a lot due to their impatient nature and tendency to react quickly and get frustrated, but they eventually grow out of it. i know some aries moon peeps who get physical when they can’t calm down like throwing stuff, kicking around, or yelling and screaming to let out that frustration.

🍥 taurus moon - they’re really laid-back to be around, always giving off a calming vibe. picture doe eyes and soft, prominent cheek, kind of like a bambi. these individuals are typically grounded and don’t easily get irritated, but they know when to assert their boundaries. they prefer doing their own thing and steer clear of drama. however, they can be quite stubborn and once they’re fixated on something, it’s hard to sway them. emotions tend to linger with them for a long time because they manage them steadily and slowly. one thing about them: they despise being rushed. like typical taureans, they take their time with things and enjoy a slower pace. when they feel emotionally unsettled, they seek comfort, even if it’s not always the healthiest option, it helps them escape. they thrive in cozy, gentle environments, feeling most at ease when they’re at home. quite possessive people and can come across as controlling at times, especially with those they like; they tend to be fond of physical touch.

🗣️ gemini moon - they have really expressive eyes that light up when something catches their interest. always cracking jokes and endlessly curious, they’re a blast to be around. a bit scattered sometimes, but they’re great at keeping a conversation going. sharp as a tack, they might seem like a clown sometimes, but they’re actually deep thinkers. they are prone to mood swings; their minds are constantly buzzing with a million thoughts, which also impacts their mood. however, they don’t really express or dwell on these emotions much because their minds are wrapped up in their interests, which can make them come across as emotionally closed off. at other times, they tend to rationalize their emotions rather than genuinely feeling them. these people get extremely bored easily, constantly needing mental stimulation. hence, they have a need to always ask questions, to know everything and understand how things work, in order to keep their minds busy. they could be the type who has trouble sleeping because their minds won’t quiet down, and the same goes for their mouth.

🦀 cancer moon - very emotionally receptive, they can easily read and understand others just as much as they crave understanding for their own feelings. they feel things deeply and take it all to heart, often needing space to process. naturally nurturing, they care very deeply and want it to be acknowledged. they might be the one looking out for their siblings or the ’mom’ figure in their friend circle. when upset, they can be passive-aggressive, but most of the time, they keep their pain to themselves. their heightened sensitivity makes them get hurt more easily than others, which is why they sometimes come off as defensive. these people have a hard time moving on from the past and like to reminisce a lot. they remember every single thing, the good and the bad stuff people did to them, and when they’re not feeling right, they tend to hold onto grudges.

⚜️ leo moon - they are all about expressing themselves creatively, typically through singing and/or dancing. they are incredibly generous and always there for the people they cherish. however, i’ve noticed they can struggle with self-esteem, leading them to seek validation and acceptance. they have fragile egos and are extremely sensitive to criticism, often feeling challenged in their accomplishments or goals, even when that’s not the case. when they feel validated, they bring good vibes, filling up the room with warm, loving, and super enthusiastic energy—that’s just how they give back. they are prone to dramatic displays of emotions, often without realizing it, due to their naturally expressive and fierce nature. i’ve also noticed that they tend to talk a lot about themselves and may unintentionally interrupt or overlap in other people’s conversations. this can make them appear conceited, but they are just really eager to share a lot about themselves.

🔍 virgo moon - they’re super helpful, sometimes a bit too much, and very responsible. it’s like they think no one else is gonna sort stuff out, so they always step up as the “fixer” even when it’s not really their problem. they’re just really big on analyzing everything to get to the bottom of things. they can often seem all critical and constantly nitpicking, but really, it’s their way of helping you improve and showing they care. they notice every tiny detail, and if something’s off, it bugs them big time—total perfectionists. they’re pretty hard on themselves, likely due to early expectations and responsibilities weighing on them. they worry a ton, even about the small stuff, sometimes to an unhealthy level of obsession. they need a lot of alone time to process these thoughts, as they’re highly sensitive to their surroundings, which doesn’t quite help with their anxious tendencies. they can be self-conscious and prefer to keep their emotions in check, often analyzing their surroundings to gauge if it’s safe enough to express how they feel.

🧁 libra moon - these people are easy to hang out with—chill, laid-back, and down-to-earth. they prefer to keep things peaceful, so they can be somewhat passive and struggle to say no because they dislike upsetting people, which heavily impacts how they feel about themselves. confrontations aren’t their thing either, and setting boundaries isn’t their strong suit. they value fairness, detest any kind of injustice, and adhere to their morals. they’re open-minded, always looking at things from different angles, which makes people feel comfortable talking to them about anything. (they are also great listeners). they can be overly concerned about how they appear as they have a strong need to feel ”pretty” and liked. when decisions need to be made, they’re very indecisive and tend to let their friends choose for them. they dislike aggression and are put off by unnecessary meanness, as they themselves keep their less pleasant emotions in control without necessarily suppressing them. most people i’ve met with this have good facial harmony and are pleasing to look at.

🦂 scorpio moon - they might not seem like they’re paying attention, but believe me, they’re tuned in. you’ll be amazed by the random stuff they pick up just from quietly observing things and people. sometimes they don’t even have to actively watch; they just get it with one look, seeing through the facade because they operate similarly, like hiding behind that secretive and mysterious wall that they cling onto. they have zero tolerance for dishonesty, and the ones i’ve met with this are extremely blunt. nothing gets past them; they can sniff out lies or insincerity from a mile away. like all water signs, they’re super sensitive but get triggered easily. oh, and they can hold a grudge forever. they’ll remember what you did to them five years ago and still think you haven’t changed. they might seem chill on the outside, but inside, there’s a whirlwind of intense emotions that can erupt suddenly. they probably struggle with talking about their feelings and, with their secretive nature, you’ll never really know what’s going on with them.

🎃 sagittarius moon - adventurous folks who are always down for a good time, even if it gets them into trouble. they find optimism and humor in everything, so it’s pretty easy to lighten up their mood. they’re strong-willed and passionate about their feelings, not holding back when they speak their mind. sometimes they crack jokes at the wrong time or in a way that might offend—it’s just their impulsive nature. despite that, they’re incredibly cheerful and goofy, always ready to laugh and spread their enthusiastic energy. sometimes they can come off as ’know-it-alls’ without trying to be arrogant; they’re just super into their optimistic wisdom. many of them may have travelled a lot growing up or just liked to wander outside instead of staying indoors—the type who were always out exploring the city. they dislike uptight, dependent people; they need someone who can loosen up and loves freedom as much as they do. being tied down in any way is their worst nightmare, so good luck trying to control them.

💼 capricorn moon - these people can keep their cool even in tough situations. they’re not into big emotional displays and often come off as closed off or shy. it takes them a while to open up because they don’t think it’s necessary. although they are not unemotional; in fact, they care and love very deeply but are more private about it. they probably grew up in a household where showing emotions was restricted, or they had to grow up fast due to responsibilities. they might also have a hard time showing vulnerability and are super protective of themselves. they’re incredibly self-reliant and independent and sometimes feel guilty about asking for help. they give the best advice, but don’t count on it to cheer you up because they’re all about logic and practicality. sometimes, they keep their problems to themselves because they don’t like feeling like a burden to anyone, or they simply feel like no one cares.

🌀 aquarius moon - constantly feeling misunderstood, they feel like people talk more than they know. are humanitarian, but at the same time, they hate people. they are highly observant and can naturally grasp people’s minds and behaviors. they cherish their independence and personal space, which means they don’t do well with clingy people. consequently, they keep most people, including friends, at arm’s length. these people are pretty good at hiding their emotions. they aren’t likely to be very grand in expressing how they feel, which is why they can sometimes come across as detached. at times, they just process their emotions differently. i see them as being more rational and logical in their approach. also, they may find it challenging or uneasy to cope with deep feelings of vulnerability. very super accepting of people because they’ve been there themselves—being the odd one out. intelligent people can sometimes be very stubborn and think they are always right.

🐟 pisces moon - they are very empathetic and compassionate, making them great listeners. however, they often feel emotionally overwhelmed because they easily absorb other people’s pains and problems. sometimes, they struggle to understand and express their own emotions due to their impressionable nature. highly sensitive to their surroundings, they pick up on every subtle detail that others often miss, which can be overwhelming. they also find themselves easily drained in busy environments, constantly absorbing the emotions and energies around them. therefore, they require ample downtime in peaceful, quiet settings to recharge. they can feel like their needs get ignored and that they end up giving way more than they get back. one thing about them, though, is they tend to be very passive to the point where they can easily be taken advantage of, which is something they need to work on to build more assertion. the people i’ve met with this moon were exceptionally talented, whether in art, writing, or any other form of expression.

[ryin-silverfish]

One nerd's musing about Chinese religion and "respect"

-I try to stay away from fandom discourse, but, much like how you can smell the stench from a dumpster fire without walking into said dumpster fire, I've noticed something that seemed to come up a lot in western JTTW + adjacent fandoms: "respect Chinese religion".

-Usually as a reason for why you shouldn't ship a character, because of fucking course it's shipping discourse too.

-And my first reaction is "Man, you are taking Chinese religion too darn seriously, more than people who are born and raised in China."

-My second reaction is "I mean, most of us are atheist/agnostic by default anyways, with a good number of what I'd call 'atheist/agnostics with superstitions': people who said they were not religious, yet believed in Fengshui or divinations and burnt incense at temples for good luck."

-My third reaction: "But why do I get the feeling that when you mention 'Respect', you are thinking about something completely different?"

-Then I reread an essay from Anthony C. Yu, "Religion and Literature in China: The "Obscure Way" of Journey to the West", and the metaphorical lightbulb just lit up over my head.

(Everything below applies more to Daoism + associated folk religions, but by the time most classic Chinese vernacular novels were written, the blending of the three religions had become well and truly mainstream.)

(The conception of gods differs from dynasty to dynasty. What I'm describing here is mostly based on Ming and Qing ones; if you went back to Han or pre-Qin times, most of these would not apply.)

(I am one of the "atheist/agnostic by default" people. I just have an interest in this kind of stuff. I am also just one Chinese person, and an actual Daoist/Buddhist/Religion Studies researcher would probably have a lot more valuable information and perspective to offer when it comes to contemporary practices and worship. Like any people on the internet: take my words with a grain of salt.)

-Even in the past, when society was far less secularized, Chinese gods are not omniscient, perfect beings whose worship is a solemn, humorless affair. Some's worship are Serious Business, but that has more to do with the sort of gods they are and the patronage they enjoy, not godhood in and of itself.

-And even the ones that you are supposed to "treat seriously" are still very human. To use an analogy I've used plenty of times before: you respect and fear them in the same way you'd respect and fear an emperor's official, or the emperor himself, because if you don't, you are not gonna like the consequences.

-However, unlike Jesus, the emperor & his officials were capable of being temperamental, flawed, or an outright asshole, divine or not. Ideally, they wouldn't be, and if you were one of the "serious" believers——people who actually got an official permit, became ordained clergy, and went to live in a temple, you were unlikely to think of your gods in that manner.

-But it wasn't a complete, utter impossibility. The lower you go in the pantheon, the closer you get to popular religion, the less "serious" the gods and their worship become. By that, I mean general attitude, not sincerity of faith. You still shouldn't be rude to them, but, well, they are more likely to take a joke in stride, or participate in the "vulgar" pleasures of commoners because they weren't as bound to Confucian moral standards or religious disciplines.

-To stretch the same analogy further: you should still respect your village head, they could still give your ass a good spanking for being a disrespectful brat, but you were not obligated to get on your knees and kowtow to them like you would do in front of a provincial magistrate, the emperor's minister, or the emperor himself, nor did they have the power to chop your head off just because you were rude.

-On the other hand, the emperor would never visit a random peasant just to help them fix their broken plow or treat them to a nice meal, but your village head could, and your relationship would probably be warmer and a lot more personal as a result.

-Your respect for them was more likely to stem from the things they actually did for you and the village as a whole, instead of something owed to this distant, powerful authority you might never get to see in your lifetime, but could change its course with a single stroke of a brush.

-Now exchange "village head" for your run-of-the-mill Tudis and Chenghuangs and friendly neighborhood spirits (because yes, people worshipped yaoguais for the exact same reasons), emperor + his officials for the Celestial Bureaucracy, and you'd have a basic idea of how Chinese religions worked on the ground level.

-This is far from absolute: maybe your village head was a spiteful old bastard who loved bullying his juniors, maybe your regional magistrate was an honest, upright man who could enjoy a good drink and a good laugh, maybe the emperor was a lenient one and wouldn't chop your head off for petty offenses. But their general degree of power over you and the closeness of your relationships still apply.

-Complicating the matter further, some folk gods (like Wutong) were worshipped not because they brought blessings, but because they were the divine equivalent of gangsters running a protection racket: you basically bribed them with offerings so they'd leave you alone and not wreck your shit. Famous people who died violently and were posthumously deified often fell into this category——shockingly enough, Guan Yu used to be one such god!

-Yeah, kinda like how your average guy could become an official through the imperial examinations, so could humans become gods through posthumous worship, or cultivate themselves into immortals and Enlightened beings.

-Some immortals aren't qualified for, or interested in a position in the Celestial Bureaucracy——they are the equivalent of your hermits, your cloistered Daoist priests, your common literati who kept trying and failing the exams. But some do get a job offer and gladly take it.

-Anyways, back to my original point: that's why it's so absurd when people pull the "Respect Chinese Religion1!!1!" card and immediately follow up with "Would you do X to Jesus?"

-Um, there are a lot of things you can do with Chinese gods that I'm pretty sure you can't do with Jesus. Like worshipping him side by side with Buddha and Confucius (Lao Tzu). Or inviting him to possess you and drink copious amount of alcohol (Tang-ki mediums in SEA). Or genderbend him into a woman over the course of several centuries because folks just like that version of Jesus better (Guan Yin/Avalokitesvara).

-But most importantly, Chinese religions are kinda a "free market" where you could pick and choose between gods, based on their vicinity to you and how efficient they were at answering prayers. You respect them because they'll help you out, you aren't an asshole and know your manners, and pissing them off is a bad idea in general, not because they are some omnipotent, perfect beings who demand exclusive and total reverence.

-A lot of the worship was also, well, very "practical" and almost transactional in nature: leave offerings to Great Immortal Hu, and he doesn't steal your imperial seal while you aren't looking. Perform the rites right and meditate on a Thunder General's visage, and you can temporarily channel said deity's power. Get this talisman for your kids at Bixia Yuanjun's temple, and they'll be protected from smallpox.

-"Faith alone" or "Scripture alone" is seldom the reason people worship popular deities. Even the obsession with afterlife wasn't about the eternal destination of your soul, and more about reducing the potential duration of the prison sentence for you and your loved ones so you can move on faster and reincarnate into a better life.

-Also, there isn't a single "canon" of scriptures. Many popular gods don't show up in Daoist literature until much later. Daoist scriptures often came up with their own gigantic pantheons, full of gods no one had heard of prior to said book, or enjoyed no worship in temples whatsoever.

-In the same way famous dead people could become gods via worship, famous fictional characters could, too, become gods of folk religion——FSYY's pantheon was very influential on popular worship, but that doesn't mean you should take the novels as actual scriptures.

-Like, God-Demon novels are to orthodox Daoism/Buddhism what the Divine Comedy is to medieval Christian doctrines, except no priests had actually built a Church of Saint Beatrice, while Daoists did put FSYY characters into their temples. By their very nature, the worship that stemmed from these books is not on the same level of "seriousness" as, say, the Tiantai school of Buddhism and their veneration of the Lotus Sutra.

-At the risk of being guilty of the same insertion of Christianity where it doesn't belong: You don't cite Dante's Inferno in a theological debate, nor would any self-respecting pastor preach it to churchgoers on a Sunday.

-Similarly, you don't use JTTW or FSYY as your sole evidence for why something is "disrespectful to Chinese religion/tradition" when many practitioners of said religions won't treat them as anything more than fantasy novels.

-In fact, let's use Tripitaka as an example. The historical Xuanzang was an extraordinarily talented, faithful, and determined monk. In JTTW, he was a caricature of a Confucian scholar in a Buddhist kasaya and served the same narrative function as Princess Peach in a Mario game.

-Does the presence of satire alone make JTTW anti-Buddhist, or its religious allegories less poignant? I'd say no. Should you take it as seriously as actual Buddhist sutras, when the book didn't even take itself 100% seriously? Also no.

-To expand further on the idea of "seriousness": even outside of vernacular novels, practitioners are not beholden to a universal set of strict religious laws and taboos.

-Both Daoism and Buddhism had what we called "cloistered" and "non-cloistered" adherents; only the former needed to follow their religious laws and (usually) took a vow of celibacy.

-Certain paths of Daoist cultivation allow for alcohol and sexual activities (thanks @ruibaozha for the info), and some immortals, like Lv Dongbin, had a well-established "playboy" reputation in folklore.

-Though it was rarer for Buddhism and very misunderstood, esoteric variants of it did utilize sexual imageries and sex. And, again, most of the above would not apply if you weren't among the cloistered and ordained clergy.

-Furthermore, not even the worship of gods is mandatory! You could just be a Daoist who was really into internal alchemy, cultivating your body and mind in order to prolong your lifespan and, ideally, attain immortality.

-This idea of "respect" as…for a lack of better words, No Fun & R18 Stuff Allowed, you must treat all divinity with fearful reverence and put yourself completely at their mercy, is NOT the norm in Chinese religious traditions.

-There are different degrees and types of respect, and not every god is supposed to be treated like the Supreme Heavenly Emperor himself during an imperial ceremony; the gods are capable of cracking a joke, and so are we!

TL;DR: Religions are complicated, and you aren't respecting Chinese religions by acting like a stereotypical Puritan over popular Chinese deities and their fictional portrayals.

[wroteclassicaly]

Summary: A confession leads to unexpected heartbreak.

18+

Warnings: Language, smut, hurt/no comfort, one sided feelings, heartbreak, angst GALORE, self-esteem issues, mentions Steve’s past head trauma, insecurities on both sides, jealous Steve, mentions Nancy, best-friend!Reader w/ best-friend!Steve, and friends to lovers. This one hurts, folks!

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Female Reader

Word count: 3,985

A/N: No banner for this! Just some raw writing I did early into the hours of this morning/night, adding on some today. I wanted to try something different, so enjoy!

Note: Also posting this the day after I wrote it. Okay, lmaooooo.

“I love you, Steve.”

The words come easy to you, the courage taking years to build. But once they leave your mouth as you’re cradling his neck’s nape, playing with the chocolate curls that have grown out there, you cannot figure out why you wasted time not saying it. It’s been an ongoing thing between you two — a two year thing, in fact. Never any pushing for labels, no exclusivity. You were patient, he was giving, and you assumed you were both reading on the same page.

In a few minutes, however, you’d find out how very wrong that you were. You wished that your mouth and your legs had stayed closed around your best-friend, Steve Harrington.

It was a typical weekday, no dates planned, acting as if his last date hadn’t upset you, or that you enjoyed the one you forced yourself to go on with some guy, so that your feelings weren’t completely obvious. Sidenote: to mostly everyone but Steve, they kinda were. Steve had called you after your shift at the local Burger King, asking if you wanted to come over and spend the night. Not unusual. You always trade spending nights, rolling around on various surfaces, before enjoying breakfast together.

Intimate, casual, perfect.

Your answer was an automatic yes. A quick shower after work for you, a return phone call, and he’d gotten in his BMW, picked up some takeout, went to your door to get you, held your hand to the car, opened your damned door, and the dessert had been him between your thighs. This night in particular, it was one of pent up frustrations and desperations that had just one satiable cure. You ended up on top of Steve, his back pressed into the headboard, mutual clothes scattered all over his bed.

His shoulders became leverage, his massive palms spread out on either side of your waist, pinching the plush skin into his palming grip. Nose dusting across a defined nose bridge, caught in a cheekbone, with kisses rushed, deep, sloppily trying to stay focussed, but driven to reach that place buried inside one another.

Steve’s thighs provide a platform for you to sit upon, ankles locked around his back. He’s slippery with sweat, places you’d like to lick clean. You pull back from your cove to say it again, unable to stop yourself, going in for a kiss. You don’t think he heard, he’s humble sometimes, disbelieving in others. One hand cups his jaw, the other staying put to card through his hair, moisture pooling between your fingers.

“Hey? You still with me, big guy? I said I love you.” You’re smiling softly, thumbpad caressing his jawline. You feel it twitch, his shoulders tense.

Is he gonna cum? You know the signs. “Steve?” Something in your guts feels a little off. You ignore it.

“I know what you said. I heard you say it the first time.” He interrupts, tries to remain impassive, his hips slowing from your combined movements.

Like salt in the wound, a fresh slap to the face. No way.

“You heard me say that I love you?” You have to try one more time. He’s been hit in the head a lot, maybe he didn’t get it? He couldn’t have, right? Are you really this stupid, this dense?

You attempt to kiss him, to lay it all down through your actions, rather than your words this time, but your mouth doesn’t get the chance to meet him.

His lids flutter closed, he sighs, his face leaving yours, hands lifting off your body to wrap around your wrists, slowly untangling them from his neck. “Stop, alright?”

You feel your heart rate accelerate, your body tensing, your throat is choked with a teary panic, a bulldozer driving across your organs, settling atop you with its weight. Every single wall you still have built, they slowly shake off their cobwebs to rise from the dust, smothering you in the smoke. And he’s suddenly a very tight fit, to the point where you’re wincing, body immediately wanting, trying to push him out. He notices, one hand dropping to the side of your face. “Hey, hey. Hon —“ He stops himself, lets your nickname drop, falling back into your regular name.

He isn’t sure who that action hurts the most.

One look at your vacant expression and Steve feels as if he’s been sucker punched, that he’s the meanest version of himself he’s ever been.

He’s still inside of you, you let him into your body, you told him a sacred set of words. And this is what he’s doing to you? Hurting you to the point where your body starts to get frightened? But he couldn’t just come while you poured your heart out, he couldn’t continue like his world was normal anymore. He reaches down to wrap around his base, face wrinkling, teeth gritting. You’re so fucking tight that it hurts, his cock aches for you when he eases his way outward, dragging combined essences with him. “Let me just…” He starts, deep voice a rocky, rasp, finishing when his length is gone from your body, dripping with you onto his sheets, covering him.

Once he’s out, you’re already passed the point of overwhelming vulnerability. Your legs clamp closed, your hands cover your chest, unwillingly to wrap yourself in his damn sheet that smells like home to you. Steve is unsteady on his feet, halfway hard, but slowly softening at your nearly curled position. You aren’t looking at him, you won’t, you cannot. It’s not safe right now, because if you do, it’ll all come apart and it won’t stop. Steve is on overload in his own head, eyes sparkling, tears matted into his lash-line.

He has to breathe through his nose when he says it. It’s wrong, it’s so fucking wrong. But he’s helpless, he can’t take this environment, he wants to run from you, from your words.

“I’ll, uh. I’ll, uhm… I can take you home if you get dressed.”

He’s blinking away blurry vision as he catches your wounded, tear fogged expression the moment that he’s snatching his boxers and jeans off the bed, and making for the bedroom door. He shuts it and leaves you to re-cloth yourself in silence. It’s honestly deafening, you’re not sure how you manage. Revealing your body to his room, to his scent, pictures on his wall, various trinkets, but not him. You’re shaking as you put on piece by piece of fabric, dreading having to see him.

Your hand hovers over the door, giving several pauses before you open it. You step out onto the deep carpet, plush across your feet, mashed against your toes. He’s nowhere in sight. And you remember that he took his clothing, so he’s probably getting re-dressed.

Fuck this. It’s in your brain on broadway lights, body in flight mode. You’re heading down the staircase and snatching your shoes up by the entryway, forgetting your purse in his room. You don’t care anymore, you have to get out of here, this place closing in on you like a funhouse. You shut the door as quietly as you can, then you’re sprinting down the Harrington’s driveway.

Is it dramatic? Yeah. Oh-fucking-well, you’re running on adrenaline so your body doesn’t feel the disgusting agony that’s slowly eating its way through your insides. You get about halfway and you hear footsteps approaching at high rates, your name being chanted. Steve is at your side in seconds, breathless.

“Shit, you scared me. Why the hell did you leave like that?”

Your eyes widen to give him an incredulous look, and that’s when the tears escape, rolling down your cheeks. Steve sees your disheveled state next. No purse, no shoes. Your blouse is halfway hanging off your shoulder. It’s an automatic instinct, his fingers brushing underneath the fabric, dragging across your skin as he pulls up to secure it.

You want to flinch away, but you don’t. Hurt settles in his brows. He’s fucking incredible with that question. “You aren’t wearing your shoes. You can’t leave my house like this.”

Autopilot flies in to protect you, leveling off everything else that you could say or do. There’s no anger, there’s no sorrow, there’s nothing. And that’s what scares him the most when you say, “I just wanna go home.”

He can’t stand it anymore, his natural urge to protect your safety, has him wrapping you in his arms. You still smell like his bed, like him, like love making left unfinished. Your arms remain clutched to your chest. No reaction.

He says it out loud, unknowing if he means it to you or just to himself. “We should’ve never started having sex.”

A mistake. You’re his mistake. Not his biggest. Not even a real regret.

Steve Harrington has only ever loved one girl. He’s only ever regretted one loss. He even cared more for Robin before he even went to you. Are you even pretty enough, or does he just like you because you’re friends and he’s horny, or searching for something? You’re not it, not even a morsel.

And it doesn’t matter what you say, what you do, how you feel. You’ll be stuck with that, while Steve clings to whatever he truly wants. Now you’ve lost what you’ve built with him, destroyed his safe place by becoming a cliche. He doesn’t deserve your one sided feelings.

The wheels are spinning in your head, but Steve still sees nothing in your responses, nor your reception. So he lifts his keys from his pocket to respect your wishes, his chest on fire with an acidic inferno, his head clouded with pain far worse than anything he’s ever experienced, his skull echoing with what his brain has just endured. You walk to his car without sparing a glance, feet still bare. He swallows and it just feels like piles of broken glass. He can do nothing but do what you asked of him.

He drives you to your house in silence. Steve Harrington has been sure of one thing in two years, and that’s always been you. But as he pulls up to your house, you’re climbing from his car before he can put it in park, your voice hauntingly, desperately hollow. “I’m sorry I ruined everything.”

And you leave him, the levee going to break once you’re through your front door, pain in between your legs to remind you the next morning before your mind does. His nose crinkles, his fingers pinching, a thin line of snot trailing out. Steve wants to say to you that it’s him who has ruined it all. That he’s so scared of those words, that he doesn’t understand how someone could love him, so he can’t let your words sink in, can’t consciously reciprocate. A coward who won’t let himself feel your declaration.

Steve Harrington’s brain, however, knows the truth.

~*~

Waking up the next morning had been a reality that neither you, nor Steve were prepared to handle. You pretty much cried yourself to sleep, whilst Steve held onto your purse and paced his floor until his feet verged on rug burn, tears blurring his vision. When he finally did lay down, his alarm went off two hours later. He woke to your scent all over his bed, still covering him, lingering even as he showered, especially in his car on the way to the store. The same car that things have happened in, and the very one that he dumped you off like trash last night, after what you’d gone through to tell him the extent of your feelings. He wasn’t functioning on a full level from the second he pulled into the parking lot.

~*~

You could still feel him, your body sore, brain picking up seconds after you opened your eyes, toes hitting the blush rug underneath your bed. Your sclera was bloodshot, burning, clouding over as you passed by pictures of you with Steve, and quite a few you’d taken of him solo, that you had on the corkboard above your desk. You’d deal with taking everything down later, unsure what you would be doing with the items. Forgoing breakfast was a given, your stomach in knots. Showering went painfully fast, leading you right into putting on your work uniform.

You barely made it three hours into your shift, headache, heartache going head to head, and your boss had noticed your discomfort, gently releasing you for the day. Only one person made everything better, but that was no longer an option. Your confession sets you free, backfiring what type of freedom you wanted to occur. It was eleven o’clock when you dock yourself into Family Video’s parking lot, relieved Steve was on his normal lunch hour. Even if you can spend time with Robin, it will help.

You can hurry, you don’t have to see his face.

Fate has other plans.

You’re helping Robin unpack some candy shipments when his car pulls in about half an hour early. She could tell you weren’t feeling your best, so that’s why she’d assumed you didn’t want a male presence around. You’re honestly shocked she hasn’t clocked Steve as the mystery man she’s known about the past two years.

“Don’t worry,” she says, upon seeing your soured, slightly fearful expression. “It’s just our doofus. He’s been in a brooding mood today, probably why he’s back early.”

A mood? So you have ruined it all.

You nod, forcing yourself to stay put, immediately gaining on deep breathing. At least you don’t shake when you begin to alphabetize the candy. You can hear her greet Steve before he even gets a word in. She snatches some kind of paper bag, that you assume he brought back for her — away, rifling through its contents as she speaks.

“Dingus, you still have that bottle of Tylenol in your car?”

Steve’s heart is in his throat, wrapping him tighter than Vecna’s hive minds did. He gives a silent yes, head trying to lean around a few shelves. Fuck. Of course that was your car out front, he wasn’t just imagining shit. He’s hopeful, anxious. What are you here for? Who?

“Good. Can you go get it, please? She doesn’t feel good and she’s been helping me all morning.”

Immediate worry doesn’t cover it. You’re here and not at work, and you’re sick? Steve snaps out of what trance he’s in, eyes pinching closed and he nods rapidly. “Shit, yeah. I’ll go get it. Here, Robs. Can you take my water to her?” He hands off his half drank bottle without question, moving back outside to get the medicine.

It’s funny, the look on your face as Robin presents you with his drink. You all share off of one another all the time. She places the food bag beside her, to which you politely decline her offer for some. Doesn’t matter if you haven’t eaten, you can’t.

“I know he has cooties, but I think we’re safe.” She shoulder bumps you, trying to get a smile. When you barely lift your mouth, she goes into her version of mom mode. It dawns on her and it comes from her mouth without tact.

“Wait, is this about that mystery guy who took your virginity? The one you’ve been seeing for two years? Holy shit, did he finally commit?”

If Robin couldn’t tell how you felt about Steve, or see anything from his part, then you guess it’s true.

There’s nothing to see.

You can feel your rib cage gape open, heart falling into your ass, strangled by your intestines.

Luckily, Steve has perfect timing, appearing right in earshot as Robin reveals information you never told him. The room feels small, you feel as if you could melt into the floor, non-existent. Would it matter? You are starting to think love controls everything, after all. You’re fucking doomed.

He lets his Nikes carry him forward, bottle of Tylenol in his massive hand. He’s starting to tremble, betrayal etched into his mouth, giving away what Robin now feels stupid for not knowing. It all clicks when your moods are matched, your mixed reactions combining.

“Oh. Oh, holy fuck. I’m…” She looks at her best-friend, who is halfway seething to near sobbing, and at you, who cannot look her in the eyes. “Shit, I should’ve known. Why didn’t I know? Fuck. I’ll give you two a minute —“

“Steve?” Your voice is tinged with something, one that has him slightly elated that you’re vocal, and even more pissed at you. He waits, his tongue caught in his throat, about to ask you, but you’re adding on. “May I have two Tylenols please?” Standing on your feet right after.

He’s like a fucking statue, on autopilot, unmoving this time. Robin rises, plucks the bottle gently, shaking out two and drops them into your hand, handing the container back to Steve, ultimately giving his water to you. She mouths an apology, but you’re smiling a tacky, forced grin that looks as if it’s pinching your lips. She’s bound to be upset you both neglected to tell her. Keeping your mouth shut should’ve been the reverse way.

“I’ll call you tonight, Robs. I’m sorry, okay?”

“Hey.” She stops you before you can step back to leave, wrapping her arms around you, maroon coated lips by your ear. “I don’t have a foot fetish, but I really should’ve kept the entirety of my own in there to avoid this.”

That gets you laughing softly, and you don’t look at Steve as you depart from her arms and for your car. He’s still frozen.

Robin does, though, stares right through him. She can see how much he’s hurting. She doesn’t want to judge either side, so she simply reaches up to rub along between his shoulder blades. “If you need to —“

“I’ll be right back.” His eyes are trained on your retreating form, handing her the pills as he follows you.

“That works too!” She points a finger in his direction, sighing. Is everyone else onto this, or is she just off her game?

~*~

You’ve just barely downed the pills, tasting Steve’s cinnamon breath spray, combined with his morning coffee all around the lid of his water. You chug it fast, your back still turned to the front door. That’s when the dumbass little bell rings, slapping back against the door, and his voice comes into play.

“You can taste my mouth on that, right?”

You remain non-verbal. This angers him to the point he steps close enough that you can smell his cologne and aftershave. His tone shatters, emotion bleeding through. “Because friends share things with one another.”

“Well, friends sure as hell don’t fuck!” It snaps free of your mouth, shocking the both of you, plastic crinkling in your hands. Your head is hurting, between your thighs is aching, and you’re positive that a piece of your chest has been carved out.

He’ll always have that, whether he wants it or not.

“They don’t lie about being a virgin, either! They don’t say that it’s been a while when they’re in pain and I’m fucking asking what’s wrong the first time that we have sex! If I would have known, then it would’ve been—”

“Wouldn’t have happened, so I didn’t build some little attachment to you, right?”

Steve visibly recoils.

“Is that really what you thought of me? That I was still that big of an asshole? Because we were already pretty attached. I did everything with you, you practically lived at my house.”

“If you didn’t have a date. Maybe it was just sex, me and you. Still doesn’t answer if you found me attractive. Probably just biased because you were my friend.” Word vomit. Too late to stop now.

Steve mulls over the meaning of were. Past tense? Does it apply to current?

His hands go onto his hips, a sidestep, and he turns back to look at you in astonishment, having to swipe aggressively at the wetness in his eyes. He doesn’t even know where to begin with everything you just said. His brain is screaming to tell you that no, he’s always found you fucking beautiful. That he would have preferred you over all of those dates, or any that he’s ever had for that matter. But he’s so confused about letting anything in, his tongue becomes tied, only able to get out one lame question. “Why didn’t you ever tell me any of this?”

When your gaze flickers up, you see he’s snarling, but there’s tears clouding his vision. You’re a little lighter in how you speak to him, dismantling your armor. “Because I didn’t want you to think I was a loser, I didn’t want our first time to be about that, I didn’t think you would want to… I didn’t mean to — I’m sorry, Steve.”

He marvels. You really thought that? Did he not express his care for you?

“I would’ve made it better for you. Fuck, were you even okay after it happened?”

His moral compass is extraordinary nowadays, and it does make you hesitant, but you let your fingers cup his cheek. “It was the best. You were the best. I wanted it to happen with you. And it’s something that I would never take back.”

Your teeth start to chatter, your own tears forming. You want to console further, to wipe away his. But you start to let your hand slip. Steve catches it, holding your fingers in his palm, wrapping his digits around to lace. His deep voice drags along each syllable, crooked and wet with emotion. “Please let me hold you before you leave?”

And god, do you want to. You’ve never needed anything more. But if you let him… You just refuse to put yourself into that place right now. You shake your head, replacing your hand with his water bottle. His tongue pokes at his cheek, he shakes his head, attempting to argue. He closes his fist around the plastic.

“I meant what I said last night. And I realize that I ruined everything, Steve.” He can’t speak, why isn’t he able to disagree, why is it like he’s drowning, running in slow motion?

“I just don’t know if it can be repaired.” By the time you slide into your car, hand over your face, arm propped to your steering wheel, body heavy into your seat, Steve finds himself worked up to the point that he can’t bear to be around you, he can’t watch this, his figure pivoting, and he returns straight into the store, booking it to the break room.

~*~

After you’ve cried for what feels like forever, embarrassing yourself, light headed with guilt, you don’t end up driving yourself home, unable to do it in this state. You make your way to a pay phone to call Nancy. How fucking ironic. What’s worse, is that she can’t make it, you find out, as Jonathan Byers pulls up in her station wagon, letting you know that she’s sorry, but she got a call back to her job. You assure him it’s fine, grateful another friend is here, at least, joining him.

He doesn’t press you. But he knows. He’s one of them that pegged it from the start, he and Nance both.

“You okay?” Is his gruff question.

“Yeah, I just have to go home.”

He says nothing else. But what neither of you see, is Steve Harrington, as he’s just getting to the doorway, regretting his decision to not go back once he realized you didn’t leave, unable to stand you being that upset and not trying to do something (if he could) — watching the affection Jonathan Byers extends your way, and your rejection of any reluctance to accept it. His amber eyes are smoldering, his fist clenched, every muscle rigid, heart rate firing off rapid shots.

“Steve…” Robin tries, folding in beside him, seeing his dismissal of logic, his brain switching, latching onto primal panic. “You’re at work, remember? Video tapes, acne covered boss?”

But he’s throwing off his vest in response and striding towards his car, ignoring her pleas.

[zhongvenbrainrot]

Absolutely believe that the people of Mondstadt know that there’s something off about Venti. They’re just wrong in their guess. But they all know to hold fast to certain reminders.

Do not stare into his eyes for too long, looking anywhere else would leave you better off, his eyes will drive you mad with images of brewing storms and the distinct reminder that the wind is not as gentle as it is in Mondstadt everywhere else.

The songs he plays to a crowd or anywhere in public are safe, enjoy until you are too drunk on the melody to listen any longer. You’ll hear them once more when you turn in for the night, lulling you into a peaceful sleep.

However if you happen across him secluded, playing to himself. Turn away and do not look back. It is not a song meant to be heard by normal folk and you’ll find yourself unable to forget it until it consumes your every thought.

If you see a bird next to him, of any kind, do not scare it off. He talks to the birds and everyone’s sure that they talk back.

Take everything from his mouth with a grain of salt, but keep it in mind. Often it is nonsense, but it will always hold a bit of truth to it. It is your job to parse out the riddle he has given.

All this to say that everyone’s convinced Venti is a fairy of some sort but they like him too much to say anything because they don’t want him to be uncomfortable. He’s clearly acting as a human for some reason and he’s fixed the people who may or may not have gone a bit mad after not listening to the warnings to the best of his abilities. And he does seem really sad about it each time it happens.

[thethirdromana]

Mem., get recipe for Mina: a food guide to Dracula Daily

Inspired by There and Snack Again (in which you eat along with the LOTR movies), this is your guide to eating and drinking along with Dracula Daily.

All under a cut because there's no way I can do this without extensive spoilers. I strongly recommend not reading this unless you already know what happens in Dracula. Also only if you're comfortable reading about alcoholic drinks - there's a lot of booze in this novel.

Let's eat!

2 May We start with the famous paprika hendl. Google "chicken paprikash" and choose whichever recipe most strikes your fancy.

3 May For breakfast, choose from mamaliga (cornmeal porridge, similar to grits), "impletata" (vânătă umplută - stuffed aubergine) or anything with more paprika in it.

4 May For dinner, Jonathan has robber steak: "bits of bacon, onion, and beef, seasoned with red pepper, and strung on sticks and roasted over the fire".

5 May Slivovitz, if you'd like it (Jonathan declines). Then, for dinner, Dracula serves up roast chicken, with some cheese, a salad and a glass or two of Tokaji wine.

6 May "A cold breakfast" for Jonathan. In Romania a cold breakfast might include boiled eggs, telemea (sheep's cheese), franzela (bread) with assorted spreads, sliced cucumber and tomatoes, and sunculita taraneasca (sliced smoked pork). Jonathan also has "an excellent supper", but doesn't tell us what that includes.

16 May Would it be too bleak if I suggested eating a symbolic Jelly Baby?

26 May A glass of wine as Quincey and Jack congratulate Arthur and drown their sorrows.

18 June There's a kind of Scottish fruit slice called "flies' graveyard". That might make a suitable snack given Renfield's meal today.

24 June I guess a gingerbread woman, for the wolves? IDK, it turns out doing this for a horror novel is a bit grim.

8 July Thankfully the internet has hundreds of ideas for spider-themed cakes so you can eat along with Renfield.

18 July The voyage of the Demeter begins! Celebrate by eating like a sailor: have some salt pork, or make ship's biscuit.

20 July Renfield has just eaten several sparrows. Provide redress by feeding birds near you, bird flu guidance permitting.

24 July Imitate the "feet-folk" from York and Leeds by drinking some tea or eating some cured herring.

10 August Lucy and Mina enjoy a "severe tea". There are lots of severe teas in Victorian literature, but few writers actually describe what's in it - e.g. the Churchman's shilling magazine, 1868, has a story with a severe tea "which implies coffee, tea, and muffins, with substantials". What are substantials? I have no idea, but that's what you should eat today.

11 August Dracula has a little nibble on Lucy. I don't suggest doing this for every vampire bite in the novel, but given this one is particularly significant, how about marking the occasion with some black pudding?

30 August No food details for a while, but in this entry, Lucy notes that she "has an appetite like a cormorant" and "Arthur says I am getting fat". Celebrate with some cake.

3 September Van Helsing has been! And surely he wouldn't have come all the way from the Netherlands empty-handed? Acknowledge his visit with some gouda or a stroopwafel.

4 September Eat some sugar, which Renfield has requested for his flies.

7 September To stay in line with what the characters actually eat and drink, have a glass of port (though ideally not if you've just given blood). But for the real spirit of the day, consider a corn-on-the-cob.

9 September Free space! Jack has "an excellent meal" but doesn't say what it is. Dig into your favourite dinner.

10 September A sip of brandy, with which Van Helsing wets Lucy's lips.

11 September The garlic flowers arrive. There's lots that you can make with wild garlic - personally, I like it in risotto.

17 September A boxful of garlic flowers arrive for Lucy every day. Time to make chicken with 40 cloves of garlic. Other options for today include more black pudding (in honour of Renfield lapping up Jack's blood) or sherry.

18 September The Zookeeper enjoys a teacake, and so shall we.

20 September No food, but the labourers have "a stiff glass of grog". This is rum diluted with water, but you could also add lemon or lime juice, sugar, and/or cinnamon.

25 September Nibble another Jelly Baby for the Bloofer Lady.

29 September A lot happens in this entry, but there's not a lot of food. There are thirsty labourers, however. Maybe have a beer?

30 September Mina makes everyone a pot of tea. Also, we don't know what they have for dinner, but they eat it at 7pm, if you'd like to time your evening meal accordingly.

1 October More tea! Since this is being gulped down by a working man, make it builder's style - strong, sweet, lots of milk.

2 October Jonathan visits the Aërated Bread Company. He only has a cup of tea, but you could have whatever you like best from their menu:

(source)

3 October Dracula forces Mina to drink his blood like "a child forcing a kitten's nose into a saucer of milk". You could either have some more black pudding, or drink a glass of milk in solidarity with Mina.

15 October The Crew of Light aren't focusing much on meals any more, but they have travelled on the Orient Express. Here's the 1887 dining car menu.

(source - I can't vouch for the accuracy of a random person on Twitter but it looks plausible)

29 October No one is thinking of food in this bit of the novel (though Mina makes yet more tea), but as they're heading to Romania, have some sarmale. These stuffed cabbage rolls are the Romanian national dish.

31 October Mina and Van Helsing have "a huge basket of provisions". Have a picnic in their honour, if it's warm enough where you are.

1 November Mina and Van Helsing have "hot soup" into which the local cooks have put an extra amount of garlic. Consider having a truly extra amount of garlic with this 44-garlic-clove soup.

7 November The Crew of Light return to Transylvania. No details of food, but in honour of their journey, I would suggest a final round of chicken paprikash, to bring us back to where it all began.

[daisywords]

some misc worldbuilding questions to get your gears turning:

Do they have germ theory or some equivalent? How do they conceptualize the spread of disease and infection?

Is the everyday economy based more on trade/barter or currency? Is the currency valuable in its own right, or is it just something agreed upon to have value (eg. salt or gold vs. paper money)

What is their main method of lighting? What resources does this use?

Primary mode of transportation? How much does this vary based on things like purpose of travel, social class, etc.?

How much of a knowledge/education gap is there between social classes? Is there a baseline of education that everyone gets/is expected to have?

What are the most popular modes of storytelling? Is everyone telling campfire stories? Are they going to plays? puppet shows? are they going to the cinema? are they reading novels or epic poetry? Are there any folk characters or pop culture things that most people are familiar with?

Where does most people's moral framework primarily come from? Religion? Philosophy? Are there different schools of thought? How much do they vary?

Is there anything considered scandalous/improper/taboo that's normal in your own culture? and vice versa

Do most people live and die where they are born, or is it common to relocate and travel widely? how much does this vary by class/profession/region?

What do they do with criminals? Do they have an extensive prison system? If so, who funds/runs it? If not, how is crime discouraged/managed? Are there specific punishments for specific crimes?

How rigid are their class boundaries? How possible/common is it for someone to change social classes?

Is there anything that people get dangerously addicted to in your world? How accessible is it?

How easy is it for someone to do research/look up information they don't know? What is the primary method of doing this?

What holidays do they have? Any weird traditions? Fun traditions? Are they universally celebrated, or only by specific groups of people?

How do they dispose of their dead? How do they honor their dead?

How much exchange is there between cultures? Do people of different groups intermingle, or do they mostly stick with their own people?

How common is it to speak more than one language, and who is most likely to be multilingual?

How much do regional dialects/accents vary within the same language? Are there any dialects/accents that are stigmatized? Do different accents have different associated stereotypes?

This isn't meant to be taken as a checklist that you have to completely fill out btw. Just things that might help add flavor to your world and characters. (Also mostly things I end up thinking about logistically anyway as they become relevant to the plot or a character's frame of reference.) Enjoy!

[fairyysoup]

the devil i know

chapter one: god you've got the blackest eyes

(repost)

fic tag | fic playlist | fic masterlist

pairing(s): crossroads demon!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: To summon a demon at a crossroads, simply cast a circle, make an offering, and recite an incantation. What happens from that point on is subject to your desire… and the demon’s.

cw: explicit, smut, dubcon elements, making a deal with a demon, inspired by american and european folklore, sacrilegious themes, horror, witch!reader, reader is 21+ in modern day, eddie is immortal, coercion (a bit), sex pact, marking, possessive behavior, animal death, trauma, reader is ostracized by her very religious hometown, dark comedy, tfw your accidental boyfriend is a demon who is obsessed with you bc he doesn’t know how to be normal about anything ever, dead dove: do not eat

please check masterlist and individual parts for content warnings before reading. this fic contains dark themes. your media consumption is your own responsibility.

a/n: Hi folks, for the month of October this year I'm going to be reuploading all the chapters of this fic onto tumblr, this time hopefully for good. I apologize for the time that it's been taken down. Genuinely, this fic has garnered so much kindness and support and I think of it as one of my biggest accomplishments. I hope you all enjoy it just as much the second time around as the first.

ALL OF MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

Through me you pass into the city of woe, Through me you pass into eternal pain, Through me you pass among forsaken people. Justice moved my exalted creator; I was wrought by divine power, Supreme wisdom, and primal love. Before me all things created were eternal, And eternal I endure. Abandon all hope, ye who enter here. -Dante Alighieri, The Inferno, Canto III

The book you’ve used for ages now, since late in your junior year of high school, has only one page in it that you haven’t utilized. You don’t know how much faith to put in it– you’re a little short on faith, these days– but, the spellbook lays it out simply, so you follow its directions to the letter. 

To summon a demon at a crossroads, go to a place where two paths meet on the dark moon. You find peace and quiet in the woods, deep where you know no one walks at night but two paths cross in a small clearing banked with trees. It’s your favorite place to go when you want to do a spell– ritual– and you don’t want to be bothered. The whole thing can’t be more than twenty feet across. Above the overhang of trees, there’s no moon in the sky, only stars.

Cast a circle of protection. That took more research than just the book in your hands, but years of collecting information have given you learned knowledge– there are a million ways to cast a circle, and different circles for different purposes. You do your best to create one for protection. You draw a literal circle in the dirt with a stick, fill it with salt, and walk around the circle three times clockwise to cast it. You light candles to give yourself some light, and to free up your hands of the flashlight you carried to see your way through the woods. 

Make an offering of copper. Your hand pauses on the copper dog tag in your hand. You’d thought of just offering a penny, but you remembered reading somewhere that pennies barely contain copper anymore, and you didn’t have anything else that was entirely made of the one metal. 

You run your finger over the embossed name on it. Lacey. Your pet’s old collar feels heavy in your hand as you remove the tag from the leather strap and bury it in the earth, you guess, to reach the… Underworld? Hell? You can’t honestly say, considering the text you’re referencing only calls it the Otherworld.

It’s a big sacrifice. It’s personal. But, you guess, that gives it more meaning. Making a deal is personal business, and you have your reasons.

Recite the summoning incantation. A stanza of words you don’t understand. You don’t think it’s in Latin, but you try your best, all the same. You read them from the book before you, and feel your blood rushing in your veins as you do.

State your desire out loud in a clear voice. Well, that’s a little more difficult. What is it that you want?

You take a breath, go to speak, and then stop. You don’t know how to start. You don’t know exactly how to describe your pain. You don’t know how to voice your anger well enough, you just know you need to… you need to get it out, somehow. This is a very crucial step in the ritual, you have to do it.

“I came here to make a deal,” you speak frankly, clearly. “I’m prepared to do anything. I’ve run out of options. I’ve been hurt too many times, by too many people who didn’t care what they did to me. I’ve lost everything I genuinely loved. I’m… I’m angry, and desperate, and I’m frightened. And I feel so alone. It’s eating me alive, and I just… I just want the ability to make things go my way, for once.” Good enough, you hope.

Wait for an answer.

You do. You listen intently, to the song of the leaves in the trees rustling in the slight breeze, to the crickets chirping in the grass. You wait long enough that you start to rethink your approach. 

It could be that things will turn around if you just wait another month, or another month after that. Maybe you’ll get the car back. Maybe you’ll get the promotion that was given to the newbie that you trained. Maybe your ex will stop coming around your work to intimidate you. Maybe you’ll get a new dog to take the place of the one that he killed. Maybe the evangelical town you live in will stop shunning you and calling you a witch, like something out of the middle ages.

Unlikely, that last one.

Just when you swear it’s a failure, that you should just pack up and leave, that’s when a strong gust of wind rips through the clearing out of nowhere. The candles blow out– and then, oddly enough, relight themselves. There’s a slight scent of smoke on the breeze, and you look around to make sure none of the candles fell over in the wind.

They’re all perfectly fine. There’s nothing amiss, it seems, until you hear a cough and movement across the clearing. You look forward, and see a pair of black combat boots in the stream of light from your flashlight. You follow the boots up to a pair of legs, clad in dark jeans, and then further up, to a torso, and a head, and a pair of sparkling eyes.

“Hi.”

You stare at him, probably looking like a fish out of water with the way your mouth opens and closes. You’d fully expected the traditional scary depiction of a demon– maybe horns, goat hooves, et cetera. But the man that answered your call is… just a man. A pretty one. He has long, curly hair, which falls over his broad shoulders and stirs in the wind. His plush lips curve up in a relaxed, cocky smile, as he takes in the sight of you in return. 

He quirks an eyebrow at you. “Are you just gonna stare at me all night?” 

“Sorry, hi. Hello.” You shake your head. “Can you believe I honestly thought I’ve been doing it wrong this whole time?” 

“I can believe a lot of things. You know, there’s a reason why the demon summoning ritual is first in that book.” His voice is soft and resonant. You get a mental image of heat waves radiating from tar-black and glowing magma, rolling slowly over lava beds. The image disappears just as soon as it flashes into your mind.

“Well, to be completely honest, I wasn’t sure how I felt about making a deal with a demon first thing,” you explain, looking away shyly. “But I’ve tried all the spells in this book and not a single one of them worked. Just seems like everything is getting worse all the time.”

He doesn’t look away– rather, he keeps staring at you, unblinkingly. Like you’re the most fascinating creature he’s ever seen. He leans up against the tree that he appeared beside, his leather jacket falling open to reveal a shirt with a demon’s head on it. Fitting. He takes a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket. 

“So, now you wanna make a deal with little ol’ me, huh?” He grins, a gorgeous smile that flashes bright, sharp teeth at you. He lifts a cigarette to his mouth and bites it gently between his teeth. He doesn’t pull out a lighter. Instead, you watch him light up with a small flame that erupts from the tip of his thumb. 

“Depends on who you are,” you retort, eyes following the movement of his hands. They’re weighed down by large, silver rings that reflect the light of the flame before it snuffs out. “What’s your name?”

He makes a short noise in his throat, shaking his head abruptly. He doesn’t look nearly as intimidating as you feel he should– more like he’s trying to warn you against something you don’t want. He peers at you from beneath his wavy bangs as he pulls the cigarette from his mouth and uses it to point at you. “Names are really powerful things where I come from, babydoll. Best not to bite off more than you can chew yet. Once we cut a deal– that’s when you get my name.”

You make a face as you mull that over. “So what do I call you, in the meantime? Demon daddy?” 

“You could,” he chuckles. The demon rocks to the side, crossing his legs at the ankles. “If you really wanted to. I wouldn’t mind, it’s flattering.” 

You grunt. “I think I’ll pass on that, actually.” He tilts his head with a sicker, watching you with an amused smile while you shift in place. “So, do I– I mean, you need to know what I want, right? Is that how this starts?”

“No, I know what you want.” He exhales a stream of smoke from his nostrils. “You want power. To get a fair shake, find your place, change your life. Defend yourself against the assholes making that life, well. A living hell.” As he spits out the words, his voice rings sharp through the trees, like the strike of a hammer on glowing metal, shooting sparks off into the air. 

“I want to take all this pain and just… return to sender. Give it back to them, y’know? I never wanted any of it,” you justify. Your voice is too small in comparison with his. “Maybe then I’ll be able to fucking breathe.”

For how little space you allow yourself to take up, he seems to consume the rest of it. He nods slowly. “That’s a fair request, sweetheart.”

“It’s selfish, I know.”

“Making a deal for power is inherently a selfish thing,” he shrugs. “Own it. I’m certainly not judging.”

You let out a shaky breath. You’re still so nervous, being so near him– ten feet away and growing closer every second, it seems, even though neither of you have moved. You feel like, no matter how far you pull back, the flow of fiery lava he seems to embody will keep creeping towards you until you’re burned alive.

His dark eyes glow like coals in the night as he looks you up and down, and then he quickly pushes himself away from the tree. You startle at the abrupt movement, and watch as he swings around it like Gene Kelly on a lamp post. 

When he rounds the tree, he uses the momentum to throw himself toward your circle. You flinch, and he frowns, but continues moving toward you at a slower pace, holding his hands out innocently. “Wanna know a secret? About how all this,” he twirls a finger in the air, indicating the ritual you’re in the middle of, “works?”

You nod, gazing up at him shyly. If you felt at all powerful while casting the circle and starting the ritual, he’s managed to take the wind out of your sails. You can feel the power radiating off of him in waves.

He smirks at you. “You make your petition– when you say the words in that little book,” he points at the volume at your feet, “and that petition is answered by whichever demon caters most to that desire.” He points at himself emphatically, his eyebrows raised. “Me? Infernal majesty of freaks and misfits. I’m your demon daddy.”

You finally giggle, and it makes him smile fondly, like that’s what he’d been gunning for all along. He backs up a step and puffs his cigarette. 

“I’m here to help you, sweetheart.” He regards you for a second, like he’s thinking things over. “That is, as long as you agree to my terms.”

“Terms?” You echo, but you were sort of expecting that. Nothing for nothing, right? “What are the terms?”

“Ah, they’re simple. Very traditional,” he waves his hand like it’s frivolous. He holds his hand out in midair, and just like how he’d conjured the flames, he produces a weathered book. It looks like a composition book that has scribbles and doodles all over the front of it– the same demon head that adorns his shirt. “You sign your name with your blood in my little black book, you hop on one foot with your hand on your head and pledge your undying fealty to the dark lord Kthulu, and then you meet me on the sabbath to kill a child and make them into soup.” 

He smiles, fluttering his eyelashes at you innocently. 

“Are you fucking serious?” You blurt. 

“Of course I’m not fucking serious– what is this, the dark ages?” He snorts as he lowers the composition book. “Nah, we don’t do human sacrifice on the sabbath anymore, it was getting too difficult to evade the witch hunters.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” He flashes you a disarming grin. You can feel yourself halfway smirking as well, incredulous but somehow enjoying his humor. Then he shakes his head and says, seriously, “No, you do have to sign my book, though. And then meet me back here on the full moon to fuck.”

You blink at him, reeling from the whiplash of that. “You… I’m sorry?”

“I find it best not to sugarcoat it, y’know.” He shrugs, “Think of this as a marriage, of sorts. I give you the power to smite thine enemies, live deliciously, blah blah blah, and then you meet me at the crossroads every full moon to be my whore and we fuck like bunnies all night. Simple as that.”

“That’s far from simple.”

“It doesn’t have to be monogamous, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he continues frankly, “except on the full moon. I won’t compromise about that– you’ll be all mine, and I’m all yours. No takesies backsies.”

“No– that’s not–” You exhale, holding your hands over your eyes. “I’m just… not promiscuous like that…”

“Sweetheart.” He waits until you’ve lowered your hands to look at him, and he hums, with a saccharine smile that reminds you of the power you’d felt sweep through the clearing when he arrived. “You won’t be the first good girl I’ve broken, and you won’t be the last. If you’re worried about promiscuity, well… I answered your petition. I know what goes on in that pretty head, and it barely scratches the surface of what I’ve seen and done.” 

The toe of his boot barely nudges the edge of your circle, and a spark crackles in the dark from the impact. The light dances in his eyes longer than it remains in the air, like they caught the spark and ignited. 

“Trust me,” he says, drawing you in with the low register of his voice. “I can give you more than power. I can give you protection. I can give you real happiness. Karma’s a fucking bitch, so I can be, too. This is just such a little thing in return. And who knows… you may even like it.”

You shiver at that, even though his presence feels hot, like his stream of lava is surrounding you, crowding you in, boiling you where you stand. He’s right– you absolutely might like it. 

Because there’s just something magnetic between you, isn’t there? You can sense it, more than any heat and any sort of primal fear you might have instinctively at his presence. There’s a certain pull you feel toward him, emanating even through the salt barrier on the ground. 

You want to wrap yourself in him. Boil you alive, burn you to a crisp, destroy you– you don’t care.

“Or… is it that you don’t like this body?” He wonders aloud, striding backward two steps. He turns, his hand lifting his seemingly ever-burning cigarette to his lips. “Figures– y’know, I can be anything you want me to be, babydoll.”

Confused, you watch as he transforms in front of you. In the length of two steps while he paces across the clearing, his face and body stretches and contorts, until you’re not staring at the same visage anymore. He stops, and he turns to you with his palms up, like he’s waiting for your approval. 

You’re looking at Tom fucking Cruise. 

“Oh, no, absolutely not,” you shake your head vehemently, scowling. You wave your hands demandingly, “Put it back. You were so hot before– please, please go back to the way you were.”

The demon grins and turns his head, throwing the cigarette away. His hair grows back to its previous length, his face morphing as if made of clay until you meet the same pretty smile you’ve come to enjoy looking at. 

He chuckles, grabbing a lock of his hair and drawing it across his lips. “You think I’m hot?”

“Of course,” you murmur, but you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he can hear it. His eyes are embers, blazing at you from beneath his bangs. “Is that what you normally look like? Is that your true form?”

He makes an iffy sound. “It’s what I looked like when I was human. My true form has more horns and unhinged jaws and claws and all that. You wouldn’t like it.”

“I thought you said you could read my mind. Do you know how much monster porn I’ve consumed? That’s hot as shit to me,” you argue, and he snaps his head towards you in surprise. You point at yourself. “Freak and misfit.”

He laughs, and it sounds like the roaring of an out of control fire, burning up everything in its path. He kicks his heel on the ground and steps up to your circle again. “I like you, baby. I really do. What do you say?”

“How do I know that I can trust you?” you ask, an annoying lump forming in your throat with the question. You’ve been burned before by people far less powerful than this demon, yet who still hold so much power over you. However much they have.

“You can’t,” he answers, more honestly than most would. He tilts his head with a crooked smile. “Not to get all preachy on you, but even if I wasn’t a demon… trust is built, not a given. ‘The devil you know,’ right? Better than the one that you don’t.”

“Yeah,” you agree, your voice coming out breathy and winded the longer you gaze up into his eyes.

“Trust me to be… intense, I guess,” he shrugs. “And probably impulsive. But I’ll always deliver on our deal. Be my witch, my wife, my whore– whatever you want to call it, but be mine. I think we’ll have so much fun together.”

“Yeah, I think– I think I will.” You’re nodding, and his smile grows with yours. “I want to.”

“Let me in, sweetheart.”

Your toe scuffs the boundary on the ground, breaking the circle. Immediately, your senses are assaulted by smoke, not just the tobacco he’s been smoking but the scent of a wildfire, of cities burned to ashes, of desolation and destruction and pyroclastic flow and roaring, exploding volcanoes. 

Your demon crosses the line you’d drawn on the ground with ease, producing the worn composition book in his hand again. The cover reads Hellfire Club in chicken scratch handwriting. 

“Are there others?” You ask, prompted by the word Club on the front as he flips open the book to a middle page. An agreement is already written out in red ink. “Do you have more than one, um…”

“Consort?” He whispers in your ear. Goosebumps rise on your skin, and your stomach flutters. “Not for a long time. I’m very picky about my partners. They have to be just as much of a freak as I am.”

Your heart thumps loudly in your chest, although the admission makes you feel… better, in a way. You squint in the dark, but with the exception of the candles around your circle, there’s nothing to allow you to properly read what’s written on the page. 

He sighs, shifting on his feet beside you. “Are you one of those people who’ll read the whole contract?”

“Absolutely I am,” you hum. The book feels heavier in your hands than it should. “Can you give me a light?”

“Jesus Christ.” He produces a flame from his forefinger just as you turn to give him a confused look. 

“Shouldn’t you, like… evaporate after saying that?”

In the yellow glow of the flame, he just blinks at you, looking amused. “Things aren’t as black and white as you think they are, believe me.”

You snatch his wrist and yank his arm closer to the page. His body collides with yours, and he grunts in your ear as he wraps his other arm around you, embracing you from behind. You’re engulfed in the scent of smoke and the heat of his flames, impossibly hot and comforting all the same. 

His hair brushes your shoulder as you read his contract. It’s just a few lines, but the weight they hold will seal your fate. 

The agreement made this night of the dark moon shall henceforth be enacted from the signing of this document, that hereby renders the human party’s soul bound to the infernal party. Witness that the first party must appear before the second party each full moon to lay in matrimonial fashion, and that in return the first party shall be protected and given the powers of the second from here until the human’s mortal passing. 

“Aww, that’s sweet,” you coo, tracing the red ink with your fingers. 

The demon over your shoulder rolls his eyes. “It’s a fucking pre-nup.”

“Doesn’t seem like a fair trade, though, does it?” You murmur. “I mean, I get the power to change my circumstances and you get– what– sex once a month?”

His hand tightens on your waist, and you pause. You turn your head to look at him, and his eyes flicker dangerously, so close to yours. They aren’t just glowing coals- this close, you can see the small details. You can see the swirling, the churning of lava within them.

“It’s not just sex, is it?”

“What do you think making a deal with a demon entails, sweetheart? Read the fine print.”

You look back at the page. There are no other words on it, save for the ones you’ve already read. “I don’t…?”

“It’s your soul, honey,” he mutters, pointing at the word. His mouth is muffled against your shoulder as he peers over it. “I won’t ask anything of you other than the sex, as long as you live. But right now, you’re offering up your soul. And once your life is up, you get to be just like me. Understand?”

“I… yeah. I understand.” You let go of his wrist, but pause over the pages of the book. “I don’t have anything to sign with.”

Wordlessly, the demon takes your hand. You let him caress your wrist, feeling your pulse with his thumb. Then, before you realize what’s happening, a sharp sting makes you yelp as he cuts your skin with his pointed thumbnail. 

He shushes you, letting the blood well up on your skin. “I did say you needed to sign with blood.”

Your voice shakes when you hold your dripping wrist over the page. “I thought you said you were joking.”

“Not about the book. Rules of the trade, I can’t change it.” Your blood splatters the notebook, dripping into the crease of the page. Once he’s satisfied, he lifts your wrist to his mouth and closes his lips around the small wound. It heals in a heartbeat. 

“Is that it, then?” You ask, mesmerized by the sight and feeling of his mouth on your skin. “Don’t you have to sign?”

Your demon kisses your wrist gently, his lips soft, inviting. “This is going to hurt,” he warns, and you nod. The heat of his breath makes your skin tingle, all your nerves on high alert. 

But then that tingling turns into a burn, that turns into a searing pain. You feel like your skin is on fire, an invisible hot brand held against your wrist. You cry out as he holds you close, letting you bury your face into his neck, holding you up as your knees threaten to buckle. 

“Such a good girl,” he murmurs to you as you whimper. He holds your arm as the pain fades into a throbbing ache, cradles your hand against his cheek as he coos into your hair. “You’re so strong. Not many people can handle my mark, you know. Fate works in funny ways.”

Your demon holds you until you can stand on your own, until your breathing evens out and you can compose yourself. He shushes you quietly, rocking you from side-to-side with a soothing hand stroking your head. Then he holds your face, and kisses your tear stained cheeks. The touch of his lips stokes at flames beneath your skin.

“I’ll look forward to our time together, little witch,” he whispers. And with a quick, chaste kiss to your lips, he disappears entirely. 

You stay in the circle for a while, clutching your throbbing wrist and crying frustrated tears. You wonder if you made the right decision, and yet, you don’t understand why you just want him to come back. You miss the comfort of his presence, even if you don’t know enough about him to justify it. All he did was hurt your arm and take your blood and kiss away your tears and make you a witch. 

It’s too late to go back on your decision now. There’s an all-encompassing fire you can feel burning in your veins, emitting from the pulsating wound on your wrist. His power. His fire. 

You pull your hand away from your wrist to finally inspect the mark that he branded you with, declaring you his in the same chicken scratch that had been on the cover of his book. It’s small enough that a well placed bracelet would cover it, but you don’t know that you’ll want to.

Eddie.

Your demon’s name is Eddie.

[inu-sunset]

if somebody requires that i communicate to them in A Certain Way, how am i supposed mindread my way into knowing that. unless they explicitly say, “hey, i need you to communicate with me like This because otherwise we might end up on different pages,” i’m probably going to default to whatever method of communication has caused the least amount of strife in my experience. i’m DEFINITELY not going to pick up on a need for communication style-change if the style in question is one i was explicitly raised to believe is rude, callous, disrespectful, inconsiderate, and aggressive. like how am i supposed to know. how can i know what a need is if the need was never communicated in the first place?

(by the way? this applies to both laios and toshiro. how was toshiro supposed to know laios needed direct communication. how was laios supposed to know toshiro’s responses carried context beyond the words themselves. “then say that!!!” applies to BOTH of them)

anyways the laios/toshiro slap-off wasn’t a “good guy/bad guy” “victim/bully” “uwu autistic/evil allistic” showdown. it was a nuanced exploration of how two flawed, compassionate, warm-hearted people might inadvertently hurt each other due to differences in culture, communication style, and communication need. it was two guys firmly planted in their own siloed cultural norms, with differences in their respective communication weak points (laios/receptive, toshiro/expressive), trying to bridge that gap and failing and hurting each other in the process. neither of them are cruel for cruelty’s sake - they’re just humans, making mistakes and navigating the consequences

(this post sponsored by the ethnocentric no-nuance takes some folks have been tossing out. free yourselves from white western christian “good vs evil” false dichotomies. enjoy the nuanced flavors that come with seasoning a dish with more than just salt and pepper)

[andythecorsair]

On the Accusations about Neil Gaiman

I've been spending more time than I would like about it, so rather than writing a whole new thing, I'm going to paste some advice and general thoughts I posted on Reddit over here. Take with as much salt as you feel is appropriate.

The knee-jerk reaction is to label everyone as either a hero or a villain. Everyone is stuck in this binary way of thinking that is truly exhausting. Try to shed it and think of people complexly, and it'll allow you to continue enjoying your life. By denying yourself something joyful, you're not moving the needle at all for literally anyone but yourself.

Putting aside for a moment any potential biases of the podcast and the people amplifying it, Gaiman himself has admitted to some creepy, toxic-ass behaviour. He was older and in a position of power. Folks will jump from that to someone being a bad person and not wanting to engage with their work any more although those self-same people will continue to spend an awful lot of time discussing that person online, as we've seen this week. I think it's also true to say that he had his own mental health struggles, that the consent in these situations was grey, and that there's an awful lot to what happened that we don't and will never know.

As to my point about 'cancelling' Gaiman, I used to be much more hardline about that kind of thing. These days, I've mellowed; partly with the knowledge that boycotts rarely work, and partly because famous artists are somehow held to a higher standard these days than politicians and certainly more than your average person.

I also think there's a spectrum of reaction from uncritical adoration to wroth-fuelled cancelation. Personally, I'll keep consuming and loving Gaiman's work, because it's still fantastic art that has a lot to love. While I'm consuming it, I'm sure I'll wince and read differently depictions of younger women and relationships with power differentials. How I consume and interpret the art has absolutely change. But I'm leaving my pitchfork on the farm. You might well make a different choice, and that's fine.

Personally, I'll neither join the moral crusade nor mount a particularly strong ethical defense.

[luffyvace]

Undertaker wants to Court you! ~(Headcanons)~

Can’t wait for the public school arc who’s with me?!

this dude is so silly 🗿 enjoy some hcs of this ridiculous little man

Undertaker is funny. He uses that to his advantage when courting. Well, it actually depends on what type of humor you have- most of his are usually those jokes that are kinda funny but at the same time your like ‘That’s outta pocket! 🤦‍♀️😑😂’ yk?

he always wants to hear jokes. He asks you randomly and no matter what type he laughs at them. Rude humor? Hilarious! Dad jokes? That one really tickled his fancy! 😂 why did the chicken cross the road?? To get to the other side? 🤣🤣💥

now usually I feel he has a specific sense of humor but with you everything’s just kinda funny. It’s that moment when your with someone who you can laugh at the most unfunniest stuff ever and still be cackling at it anyway 😭💕

he’s always telling them as well. Might I say, at the worst times 😏 you just watched someone run over a stray animal? Oh he’s got a joke for that hear him out- LIKE BRO 😭⁉️

HES THE TYPE OF GUY WHO MAKE YOU LAUGH BEFORE EVEN TELLING YOU THE JOKE BECAUSE YOU KNOW ITS GONNA BE STUPID 👍

Let’s also talk about hiiiis…! weird side! (I’m saying ‘side’ like he’s isn’t always weird..) This is pretty much him just being a creep? Ish? Like that scene where he was in the barrel licking salt…🤨 or how he’s always in coffins (which tbh seems more normal for a grim reaper but still..) either way this dudes’ real weird and he doesn’t tone it down, even around you despite the fact that it may or may not (you decide) push you away

He’s a very mysterious dude, so how ever you met him I guarantee it was eerie and somewhat strange. Therefore you were likely intrigued by him, so when you went on your first date it was, well, very interesting! There’s so many layers to unravel with this guy! Ngl even now you’ve only semi unraveled this incomprehensible man but at the least you do learn more as you get to know him :P

his past is….complicated is an understatement- gimme a new word.

literally no one but him knows his full past all the way up to this very day. Looks like no one has stuck around long enough! Since you will I guess you’ll be the first to figure it out! ;)

now I’ll say this, he won’t sit down and just tell you everything, no. That won’t be any fun! 😄 you’ll have to have the intelligent to sit down and decode it piece by piece with the tidbits of information he gives you randomly. Yes! It’s going to be comical seeing you try and put this whole thing-a-ba-jig together! (^_−)−☆ 🤣

his nonjudgmental yet opinionated personality is scary if you don’t like folk who come off too strong. Or if your sensitive- 😄 he’s a ‘tell-it-like-it-is-and-I-don’t-give-a-ship’ type of guy. Buuuut! If your similar to him in that sense you’ll probably understand him a lot more. Him being nonjudgemental is perfect for peeps of all types so that’s a plus!! 💗

ranting about his fascination with humans during your dates comes with the package! ☝️He just does, it’s always one of his topics, and ngl it’s nothing boring either, he’s got quite a few stories to tell with even more jokes in between, which is sure to make for a lovely date <3 plus at some point all species in black butler experienced being a human, and idk about y’all but the study of human nature, psychology and how the brain works is a very interesting thing for me! I’d definitely be able to keep a conversation like that up for some time, me personally.

He puts up a front of a funny weird guy when there’s more to him if you read between the lines. Which, don’t get me wrong that certainly is a part of the real him, he just makes sure to highlight it so you don’t look at the rest 😃👌

he’s a real creepy fellow..even towards you 😭 (on purpose) and whether he’s trying to court you or not there’s no escaping it- if it starts to push you away he’ll find a way to incorporate laughter into it to make it more appealing, but no, he won’t change his ways 😭

WHY DOESN’T HE WASH HIS HAIRRRR

(yes it’s canon 😞)

you force him to wash his hair 😘💋 pls he needs it. or at least do it with him so it’s more fun. It’ll probably be easier to convince him that way

Time to talk about his work as a grim reaper!!! :3 (retired anyway) if you are reaper you get to follow each other around doing tasks! human? You both go your separate ways to work, whatever that may be. A demon? The same as a human really! Just this time you might have a contract with somebody. Buttttt!! A perk of all three is getting to work in the funeral parlor with him ;3 it’s a good disguise if your a demon/reaper and also some good quality time for you and your reaper 😘 (i mean, I hope you don’t mind morbid stuff cuz he’s a mortician after all 😅)

his little Russian roulette with the phantomhives 🕺 (LOL) no seriously I have no clue what type of relationship he has with them besides the fact that he serves them for the price of top notch laughter 🧑‍🍳💋 but you might! I’d say he’s more willing to let you in then anyone if he’s trying to court you! That obviously means he wants to trust you with his heart! So yeah! You likely know a thing or two—more about Ciel than Vincent but any info will do at this point 😭 it’s a start right? 🤷‍♀️

whenever Ciel comes over you get to witness him or Sebastian try to make undertaker laugh, it’s not like they can kick you out, you work there! Perks 😏 You can pretty much tell the one time Ciel made him laugh himself it was just a whole bunch of tomfoolery 😂 (why did it take so long⁉️😭) Sebastian is also able to make undertaker laugh really hard immediately so I wonder what he does 🤪 guess you’ll get to see! 😋

undertaker opening up to you is a process that requires patience. And don’t be pushy!! I mean this for your sake, by the way. You’ll drive yourself crazy since you’ll never get an answer that’s not riddles or straight up jokes. 🤦‍♀️🤷‍♀️

yeah overall his way of courting is really strange but when it comes to making things official he’s poetically blunt. The type of blunt where you have to process for a second like ‘wait what does that mean- oh. OH-’

Anyway I’m gonna talk about the actual dates now cuz I’ve pretty much just been mentioning the madness that comes with it this entire time :3 and yes as I said that’s a way of courting to him. He’s weird and blunt but doesn’t wanna do things the traditional way. So getting you involved in his antics is his way of saying ‘hey i like ya and I want ya to stick around’. And jokes. HAHAHAH 😂

dates with undertaker normally consists of tea, jokes, human psychology and gossip 🗿 ever since I saw ciel in wonderland I couldn’t get over the fact that undertaker was at a tea party and now I headcanons him to like tea LOLOLOL! I mean I know that’s how the plot goes in the actual slice movie and he was just playing the role of the character but, think about it—don’t it kinda fit???? Like?? Okok Hear me out hear me out- imagine sipping on some tea with Undertaker and gossiping on the latest drama from the underworld, ‘I heard a rare case is happening where blah blah blah *giggle* *giggle* chatter chatter..’ ETC! like idk how to explain it but do you see the vision???

I can also see him doing that dramatic anime thing where they sip they’re drink majestically then say something intelligent sounding (☝️🤓) (about psychology, for him) as the wind blows 😂😂 YK? LOLL even worse if your in a outside background and his eyes shows (cuz the character who never shows they’re eyes always show them when they get serious 🤣)

i love how shameless this guy is

why don’t we know this guys’ real name⁉️ Can’t even give him a nickname because ‘undertaker’ isn’t nickname material!! What am I supposed to call him???? Taker’ ⁉️😭🗿

ENJOY @doudouma HERE’S YOUR SURPRISE~ 🤗

[littleless6teencandles]

(18+) RYAN ROSS X READER

pre split! ryan ross x AFAB! reader - warnings: ryans a munch, drug use/smoking, smut (wrap it before you tap it, folks). lowercase intended, not proofread, A/N at end, enjoy!! <3

while at a house party for “a fever you can’t sweat out” reaching top charts, you and ryan sneak away to smoke.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

ryan held you by the waist as you navigated the crowded house together, leading you through bunches of drunks, trying desperately to find a quiet place to hang.

you guys decided on the pool house. it reeked of chemicals as you sat down on a counter with pool salts on it. “are you ready?” you asked, pulling the goods out of your bag. he nodded eagerly in response, watching in awe as you placed a little bag, a grinder, filters, and some rolling papers beside you.

you pulled the lighter out from the inside of your bra and placed it next to everything else. ryan watched in utter excitement as you prepared your guys’ joint. you ground up the bud and then rolled it up in the paper with the filter, licking it shut.

ryan watched as you placed the joint between your lips. he flicked the lighter on and lit it. you took a long drag, holding it in for a few seconds before exhaling the smoke.

you handed ryan the joint. he took an extremely overzealous inhale and immediately began to cough, spitting smoke everywhere.. “wow!” you laughed. “that’s too big for your first time!!” he handed you the joint and stuttered out a few broken words. “f-fuck..” he laughed in between coughs.

he was huddled over next to you, coughing out smoke as he gripped the ledge. you rub his back, whispering quiet praises in his ear. “it’s okay,” you hit the joint again, slowly exhaling the smoke.

when he finally regained his composure, he asked for the joint, taking a smaller hit and exhaling quickly after. still, a small cough left his mouth. “smaller..” you laughed, running a hand through his hair.

he looked as if he wanted more, like he wanted your friendship to explore “new heights”.

he positioned himself between your legs, looking up at you, placing his hands on your waist. you place the joint between your lips and inhale again, bringing your lips to ryan’s and exhaling the smoke into his mouth. his eyes widened and his grip on your waist tightened and he let go, exhaling the smoke. “woah..” he let out a breathy laugh and moved hair out of your face. he stands on his tip toes, giving you a gentle kiss.

first, his kiss was shy and patient, but it quickly turned desperate and sloppy. you straddled him, gently pulling his hair with one hand while the other one made its way down his chest, pulling up his shirt. a small gasp left his mouth when you ran your hands over his v-line, slowly making your way down to his zipper. his eyes widened and he let out a soft whimper.

“can i?” you whispered in his ear, kissing the side of his neck. he nodded frantically. “yes-“ he cleared his throat. “yes please..” his body shook nervously as he brought his cold hands inside your shirt, bringing his fingers up and around the bottom hem to remove it. “is this okay?” he asked. you nodded, flashing a genuine smile. you helped him take it off, revealing your cheetah print bra. he quickly joined you; removing his jacket, black tee, his plaid red and black boxers peaking out of his jeans.

his lips quickly returned to yours as he multitasked, unhooking your bra in the back and gently removing it from your body. he dropped it, staring in shock at his best friends boobs; he could’ve sworn his dick got so hard it fell off. “oh my god..” he whispered, quickly bringing his mouth to your collarbone, kissing down your cleavage.

he brought his mouth back up to yours, right hand fondling your breast as the left held your jaw. “so cute..” you whispered, cupping his hard cock with your hand. he shivered as you did so, whimpering quietly as he kissed you eagerly.

his hands unbuttoned your shorts and hooked on the inside of the hem, bringing them down over your knees and placing them next to you.

he squatted down in front of you as you spread your legs for him. he placed chaste kisses along your thighs until he reached your pussy. he looked up at you for approval and you nodded, smiling expectantly at him.

he ran a finger up your clothed folds, sending shivers down your spine. he rubbed a few circles on your clit before he buried his face into your clothed pussy. he placed wet kisses on your clit and rubbed a finger along your slit. “ryan..” you groaned, holding his face close by a chunk of his hair. he stopped for a moment, linking his fingers under the hem of your underwear and pulling them off. then, he dove right back in.

“so, so handsome buried between my thighs.. wanna see you do this all the time..” you whispered. he hummed into you, sending vibrations to your clit. you held his hair back as he went to town on you, circling your clit with his tongue.

then, he slowly gathered pre-cum on his middle finger and slid it into you, curling it up. a harsh groan left your mouth as he pushed in and out, curling his finger up, then slowly adding another finger.

he quickly changed pace, going from teasingly slow to the perfect speed, fingers working magic on you as he ate you.

he stared you in the eye as he ate you out, you could see his shit eating grin as he worked on you. “s’close..” you groaned, grabbing the back of his head and pulling some of his hair. you grinded your hips into his face, making you come closer to your release.

finally, you finished, you let out a loud moan, cumming all over ryan’s tongue. he looked up at you as he sucked his fingers clean, placing kisses along your thigh.

as you slowly gathered your composure, you sat up, pulling ryan up with you and kissing him. “that was so hot, baby..” he moaned into you, tongue roaming around your mouth as he fondled your breasts.

you hopped off the ledge, clothes dropped to the floor as you swapped spots with ryan. you helped him up, pants down to his ankles as he adjusted himself. he hooked his fingers under his boxers and pulled them down. his cock slapped his stomach and he let out a quiet whimper. his cock was swollen and red, dripping pre-cum from his tip as he looked down at you. “you’re beautiful..” he mumbled, curling your hair behind your ears. he kissed your forehead before you squatted in front of him, rubbing a gentle finger along his tip, then spitting on it.

your hands slid down the sides of his cock, gently pumping him up and down with a slow but steady pace. his breath hitched in his throat as you continued to do so, placing gentle kisses on his thighs before licking up his cock. you bobbed your head down, slowly taking his tip in your mouth, swirling your tongue around it.

his hands go to the back of your head, grabbing some hair from the nape of your neck and holding your head, lightly guiding you up and down his cock. “so pretty like this..” he moaned, locking eyes with you and placing a kiss on the top of your head.

your hand jerked the base of his cock while your mouth tried to fit all it could, slobbering all over him as you sucked him off. he was a moaning mess, whispering sweet praises in your ear. “mmm, you’re doing such a good job.” he let out a breathy laugh and cupped your cheek.

you quickened your pace and his noises only became louder. “so close..” he closed his eyes and bucked his hips gently into you.

he let out a strained groan as you felt his hot load shoot into the back of your throat. releasing ryan’s cock with a pop, you swallow his cum, wipe your mouth clean and try to catch your breath.

he pulled you up onto his lap and kissed you hard. “so hot..” he whispered, repositioning you so you were closer to him.

he jerked his cock a few times before positioning himself over your folds. he ran his tip through them a few times before slowly entering you. his eyes widened and his mouth fell open as you squeezed his cock with your warm hole. “oh god..” he whispered in your ear, hugging you close. he buried his head in your cleavage and began to move his hips up and down. you join him, quickly finding the pace in which you’d go in that moment.

you watch from the window behind as party goers enter in and out of the house. the windows of the pool house were fogged up with hot breath as he pumped in and out of you. the sound of skin on skin echoed throughout the small room. “you-“ he babbled, “-so hot- god, i love you..” he laughed, running his hands through your hair.

you place small hickeys along his collar bone, hoping maybe someone will see them when you go back into the party. his hand reaches down to rub circles on your clit, bringing you closer to your release..

“fuckkkk,” you giggle, “next time.. we uh.. do this-“ you said in between thrusts, “i want.. to not be in.. some ransom persons… pool house..” he laughed in response. “please,” he groans, pace quickening as he grabs your ass. “fuck!” you groan, cumming on his cock. it happened so much faster than you had anticipated. he continued to thrust for a minute but then pulled out and began jerking it.

“can i,, cum on your,, face?” he groaned. you moaned and nodded, hopping down and squatting in front of him as he continued to jerk in front of you.

he shot his load all over your face, groaning loudly, and placing a kiss on your lips before catching his breath. “wow,,” he laughed. “that was… amazing..” “y-yeah..” you giggled, placing a kiss on his cheek.. “sorry i… did it all over your face, here, let me help. he picked up his shirt and helped you wipe his cum off of your face. “i don’t… need this…” he laughed. he pulled his pants up and zipped them. he helped you get your clothes back on.

he put his jacket on and zipped it up all the way to hide the fact that he wasn’t wearing a shirt. he threw the shirt into the corner of the pool house and continued helping you put your clothes back on. he buttoned up the back of your bra and helped you with your shorts. “thanks, ry..” you smiled, kissing his cheek. “we gotta do this more often,,” you winked, opening the pool house door for him.

you two walked back into the crowded house together, hand in hand.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A/N, thanks for reading! i’m sorry if it sucks, i kinda rushed the ending :0 DM for requests, it would be greatly appreciated if someone helped me with prompts so i can get more writing out! thanks! <3

[vivian-pascal]

When you call my name, I won't answer

stranger!joel x f!reader

summary: After a series of downfalls in your life, you meet a very mysterious man at a bar one night, you two seem to get along just fine.

warnings: piv (wrap it up) dirty talk joel, oral f!receiving, kissing, sexual tension, aftercare, fluff

authors note: hi folks! this is the 100 followers special, it's pretty short but i hope you enjoy it! i can't thank you all enough, this means a whole lot to me!

On a cool, winters eve, you were sat at a bar drinking your usual cocktail. This is how you spent most nights, drinking, sleeping, drinking, sleeping and repeat. You'd been off the hook for a couple of months now and couldn't register what else to do with your life.

Your family abandoned you, you got fired from the only job you had, your three months past rent and can't afford to pay it, so what else is there than to drink all your worries away?

You've gone to this bar for many weeks. Even getting acquainted with the workers. They've considered you as a usual person here and even made the drink you first ordered a special on the menu.

You ordered your usual drink and sat in the same spot you always do. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary but you did sense someone's eyes on you. When you looked to your right, you saw some older folks sitting down in a booth, they surely weren't looking at you. When you look to your left however, there is an older man sat on a bar stool just a couple down from yours.

He had broad shoulders, salt and pepper hair, soft gruff growing around his face. His big, veiny hand held onto what you assumed was a glass of whiskey. He looked back at you and you quickly turned your head as to not seem you were staring.

The older man turns to you, his eyes clouded in thought. "You remind me of someone." You turn your head and look his way. "Oh yeah, and who might that be?" You quirk an eyebrow as you take another sip of your drink.

He slowly takes a deep breath in and picks up his glass. "Oh you know, just someone in a past life." He smirks at you and nods to the bartender to refill his drink.

You decide to inspect him more. He has a rugged and weathered appearance, his face is lined with only a certain amount of wrinkles, each telling a story of their own. His hair speckled gray, you could see he was quite strong with the way his shoulders were, broad and firm. There was a sense of mystery with this man, like there's something he isn't sharing yet.

His hands are rough and calloused from years of hard work. His voice a deep and resonant with a gravelly quality that adds to his charm and charisma. He wore a faded flannel with jeans, you could tell he was a simple man, adorned to his own sense of fashion.

When he turned back to look at you, he could tell you were checking him out. "What's your name?" You bring your eyes up to his and told him. He smiles at the sweet sound and repeats your name off his tongue. "That's a lovely name darlin'." You smile shyly and pull a hair behind your ear and ask him his. "M'names Joel."

You nod your head and begin to look around. You notice that he moved his stool closer to yours and you begin to squeeze your thighs together.

You both talk for a while, about work, past lovers, how you got fired. You like taking with Joel. He has this easiness that would allow you to say whatever you wanted and he would just listen. He would respond perfectly and laugh at your sarcastic jokes. He was an easy going man, and you were feral for him.

Time had past and you could feel the tension growing. Sometimes he would put his hand on your thighs or get very close to your face, like he wanted to kiss you.

"My daughter Sarah is comin home soon." He brings his glass to his lips and takes a drink. "Oh that's nice! Where is she now?" He puts his glass down and twirls his finger along the rim. "She's in college down south, been studyin abroad, wantin to become something in the medical field." You bring your purse up from your side and set it on the counter in front of you. "That's great, you must be very proud of her Joel." His face pulls into a sweet smile as he thinks of his little girl.

You open your purse and pull out your wallet. His hand quickly joins yours and you look him in the eyes. "That's fine, i'll pay." He smiles as he reaches for his leather wallet in the back pocket of his jeans. "Oh no, really, it's fine, i can pay." You call the bartender over and as your about to pay you get interrupted.

Joel manages to grab the bartender's attention first and hands him his card. He tells his to pay for your tab too and adds an extra tip. "You really didn't have to do that you know." He sits back on his stool as he downs the rest of his drink. "No, I didn't, but i did." He smirks as you roll your eyes.

The bartender returns with Joel's card and he puts it back in his wallet. You both stand up and begin to walk to the exit.

"You gotta ride?" He looks down at you and you shake your head no. "I walked here." He pauses and looks ahead. "You walked here all by yourself?" His southern drawl picks up more and you shiver at his voice. You nod your head as you near the parking lot. "Well I could give ya a ride, I ain't gonna let you walk back home alone now, who knows what happens to pretty girls like you around this hour." Your heart flutters at the thought that he called you pretty.

He gets to his truck and opens the passenger side door. "Hop in." You smile as you slowly climb into the truck. He shuts your door and walks back around to his side. He jumps in and starts the engine.

"Thank you Joel, this means a lot." He smiles softly and brings his hand to your face. His thumb strokes your cheek and rests his palm there.

"It's okay sweetheart, no need to worry. M'just helpin a doll out." He gives you a sly look as you close your thighs together and blush. A few minutes into the drive, you could feel the tension growing. His hand was resting on your thigh and would occasionally rise up to your waist.

"Oh, I didn't tell you my address sorry, it's-" He cuts you off with a pat on your leg. "That's alright darlin, we're goin to my place, if that's okay with you." You stare at him for a bit before nodding.

Once you two pull into his driveway, he parks the car and exits his vehicle. He goes around to your side and opens the door. You give him a quick smile as he takes your hand and helps you out.

You both walk up to the door and he pulls out his keys. When he opens it, your instantly pushed up against the back of the door as it closes. His lips crash onto yours and you moan at the kiss.

"I've been waitin to do this all night baby." He begins to pick you up and carry you upstairs. He throws you down onto the bed and you giggle at the fall.

He crawls up your body and up to your face. "How bout we loose the clothing yeah?" You nod your head as you frantically begin ripping off your shirt. His eyes immediately go to your breasts. Your bra isn't the best fit and they could easily fall out.

He reaches behind you and unclasps it. He groans at the sight of your bare breasts. He removes his shirt and throws it to the ground along with your clothes. He begins to slowly move down your body and in between your legs. He teasingly opens the buttons of your jeans and carefully pulls down the zipper.

You lift your hips in attempts to help him get them off. He grabs onto the top of your pants and forcefully pulls them off of you. He makes eye contact with your soaked panties and moans at the sight, He brings his middle finger up to your wet center and presses in firmly against the fabric. You grab onto the sheets at the sudden attention and arch your back.

He stops his movements for just a second as he removes your underwear. He has to stop himself from coming right then and there at the sight before him. "God baby, she's dripping for me."You moan at his remark and grab onto his hair.

He positions your legs over his shoulders as he begins to get to work. "Joel." You whine at the contact of his tongue seething into your weeping hole. He begins to lap at your arousal and you pull onto his hair roughly.

He begins to flick his tongue on your clit and you moan aloud as he speeds up. He shakes his head side to side and you arch your back further. He brings his hands to your thighs and pushes you down to keep you steady. His tongue goes back to your hole and submerges inside. His nose occasionally bumps your clit and that sends you wailing.

Your orgasm comes up quick and you pull his hair even tighter as he digs his nails into your thighs. The movements of his mouth begin to increase when he feels your body shake. You moan and whine his name as it washes over you. He drinks up all your juices as you rest your head back against your pillow.

He crawls over you and kisses your lips. You can taste the tangy flavor of your orgasms as he invades your mouth with his tongue.

"Ya ready f'me baby?" He begins to grind his erections against your soaked center and you moan at the friction. "Please Joel. I need you." He growls into your neck as he removes his pants and boxers. He lines his cock with your pussy and begins to rub his tip against your clit.

You just know he's big. You can feel the size of him just from his thrusts. He lines his cock with your hole and begins to seethe himself inside of you. Your mouth falls open as he inserts himself all the way in. He stays still for a moment and you wonder if something is wrong. "Joel please move." You grab onto his hair and pull him down for a kiss. "I know baby girl, just hold on for a minute." He rests his forehead against yours as he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

"Joel please just-" He begins to thrust into your soaking pussy at an exhilarating pace. The tip of his cock just hits your cervix and it sends you screaming. He grunts as he hears your pretty little sounds you make for him.

"Oh god Joel." You arch your back and open your mouth in a silent plea of how much pleasure you are feeling in this moment. "I know baby I know, I hear ya, taking it so well f'me." He brings his lips to yours and instantly speeds up.

His hips are thrusting at a pace you can't seem to keep up with and he groans when he feels you squeeze around him. Your heart rate picks up when you feel another orgasm begin to brim. He brings his hand to the bottom of your stomach and pushes down. You loudly moan when you feel this new sensation.

"God, I can feel myself all up in your fucking stomach." He growls and bites your neck as your orgasm begins to break. "Joel, I'm coming." You barely manage to get the words out as your vision goes white. The amount of pleasure has you rolling your eyes back and arching off the bed. He speeds up as his orgasm nears.

"Oh fuck baby, so goddamn tight." He bites down onto your shoulder as he spills his cum inside you. You walls become surrounded with a warm, sticky mess. His hips come to a stutter as his orgasm subsides. He instantly falls on top of you and closes his eyes.

He rolls over and begins to get out of bed. He grabs his boxers and puts them on. He walks out of the room and goes into the bathroom, he returns to you with a warm wash cloth and some water.

He opens your thighs and you wince at the soreness. He puts the cloth up to your pussy and slowly begins to wipe it down. He sets the water onto the bed and throws the towel into his hamper. He crawls back into bed and you huddle up to him.

"How ya feeling?" He gently stokes the top of your head as you breath in his scent. ''Fucking fantastic. " He chuckles at your remark and kisses the top of your head. "Goodnight darlin." He holds you closer as you wrap your arms around his middle. "Night Joel."

tags!!

@iamsherlocked-1998 @pinkcrystal44 @heartpascalispunk  @heartramen  @tupelomiss  @simplewanderer @ursagittariusgirlfriend  @amyispxnk @livingonthehems

[radioisntdead]

Hello, can we have a hc Overlord!Parental Figure reader for Velvette? I just think it would be silly to have us scolding Velvette at the Overlord Meeting. Also I wish to be tall, between Carmilla and Rosie's height-🙃

Good evening my dear! I do hope you enjoy these! Also I felt that wish to be tall.

Parental figure overlord! reader x Daughter figure! Velvette headcanons

She made sure you wouldn't be at the overlord meeting where she sung respectless because if you were there and she pulled that stunt with the angel's head and the music number with Carmine, she would've been smacked.

I'm thinking you were one of the first overlords she met after she died, she got lucky that you immediately viewed her as a child figure because otherwise she would NOT be where she was today.

She'd be dead or worse.

I imagine back in the early days you just showed up with her to Rosie's like "This is my disrespectful child! Velvette! Say hi to Miss Rosie!" "no."

You taught her practically everything you know about being an overlord.

You let her slide with her behavior most of the time, mostly with regular sinners or hellborn, but with overlords? You shut that shit DOWN, especially if you consider some of them, Like Carmilla Carmine or Zestial, friends of yours.

Like Velvette chill the fuck out those are your godparents.

Forbid that you WERE at the meeting with the musical number she's getting YOINKED off the table, you're tall, she's short it's not a tough fight.

At regular overlord meetings whenever she starts getting too feral, you just give her the mom look™ or the dad look™

Or whatever the middle version of that is, the grunkle stan look??™

And she chills out.

Or if that doesn't work a "Velvette." In a certain tone does the trick.

You see Vox and [Vomiting noises] Valentino as her little friends, you don't take them seriously despite having a couple of business deals with Vox.

Y'all have little Parent child days that involve going out to eat, spa, movies or something etc etc with matching outfits obviously.

You know how some kids have a separate social media account from their parents? Well she can't exactly do that so she just sets it up to where you can only see SOME of her posts.

Speaking of her social medias guess who gets mother's Day/father's day posts dedicated to them?

You!

You know that one thing that's like "THIS HOUSE IS A FUCKING NIGHTMARE" with the dude getting on the refrigerator that's Velvette with you sometimes.

You may or may not live in the vee tower no one knows you just kinda, appear.

Sometimes if your scolding Velvette and Vox or [more vomiting noises]Valentino walk in, they get roped into it.

Thankfully the only one that actually gets beaten is Valentino

Sometimes when you visit Carmilla you drag Velvette with you to have a playdate with Carmilla's daughters while you and Carmilla have like, tea or a business meetings.

Whenever she's sick, you come in CLUTCH bringing in soups, meds, tucking her in and making sure she rests.

For your birthdays she makes your present [which is usually some type of clothing] personally, like she's the one sewing.

It needs to be perfect for her parent, and the fools working under her would NOT make it perfectly.

She WOULD not tell you that she's the one that makes it herself.

You definitely bring her something whenever you visit her, like she's a spoiled brat for a reason, veruca salt but better, more ironic and less annoying.

Good evenin' folks! I hope y'all enjoyed! I rewatched Velvette clips while writing and lowkey forgot how iconic she is, anywho as always thank you for tunin' on in!

[spencer-sweets]

Marvel Fic Recs |James Logan Howlett/Wade Wilson

so like everyone with eyes - i found deadpool and wolverine wildly homoerotic. so, i have been keeping my eye out for some good fanfic of them. while i love the honda odyssey fics, this list is mainly longer narrative or character driven fics. I'll add more as they are completed and I read them.

Unwanted, Dead or Alive by fanficbug Explicit 29,666 “Logan,” Colossus chided. He turned his rage back on Colossus. “No. Fuck you, bolts for brains. No Deadpool? No. Fucking. Wolverine.” *** The X-Men of this universe want Logan to rejoin, but he's not interested unless they let Wade join too. Meanwhile, another threat makes itself known in the form of a skull-faced mercenary.

this one had a nice dose of action and pining and its just really great. i always like when these fanfictions feel like they are actually set in the world they are supposed to be in - with villains and danger just lurking about - and i always enjoy a good fight scene.

Newton's Third Law by capitalismwasamistake Explicit 30,385 “Come on, Wolfie, let’s not fight!” Wade sings as he evades the first swipe with an absurd dance move. “We’ll go dancing tomorrow night!” He retaliates with a kick to Logan’s jaw then both his katanas enter play. “Sorry, I know you wanted more of that song, but we don’t have the licensing budget. How about this instead? Stop!” “In the name of love–” “Before you break my heart–” *** Or, Logan is thrilled he can finally fight someone without holding back. Wade is horny and touch-starved. Oh, and there's The Problem.

this fic earned it's explicit rating. the dove is dead with this one folks. there is a lot of gore and fighting and a vivisection involved but it is a sweet story with a happy ending.

i’m just a human trying to avoid my certain doom (that is falling in love with you) by dazecorr  Teen+ 44,493 He shifted in his seat, the leather sticking to his skin as he absorbed Wade's colourful description. Gun. Even a knife would do. "Trust me, DP." Dopinder’s voice was earnest, almost pleading. "You'll see, everything will play out fine." With a final eye roll, Wade ended the call and slipped the phone into his pocket. As he opened the passenger door and climbed back into the Odyssey, Logan caught the tail end of a begrudging sigh. "Alright, Dopinder's playing the role of our cross-country cupid, so I guess we're doing this." Wade said, his voice cutting through the tension with its playful edge. "But if I end up thrown out of this 'soccer mom special' in the middle of the desert, I'm haunting you first." "Haunt away, you’ll just get a fist-full of salt thrown at your face." Logan muttered, a smirk threatening to break the stern façade. "Keep your hands off the radio." OR WHERE dopinder's getting married, vanessa is the best wing-woman, ellie is a gossip and logan is a very homosexual train wreck OR a poolverine slow burn-ish road trip fic in an immortalised honda odyssey.

im not typically a fan of road trip fics but i really enjoyed this one. it was quiet and soft story between these two. it explores both of them and their characters without the action or violence of the d&p movie.

[lunarmoonanons]

Fire and Salt chp 14

🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕

YN sits at her mother's council

🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕

Masterlist

YN always enjoyed seeing the map table lit up. Watching the fire below light up the pieces and places like flowing fire enchanted the girl whenever she saw it. YN knew this wasn’t an occasion to enjoy the lit table, but she still admired it nonetheless. YN rested one hand on the table and looked up from it to see her mother walking into the room surrounded by her guards. YN smiled at her mother for a brief moment as her step father announced her to the room of people her mother would call her court. 

“Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men. Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm,” Daemon announced and everyone followed with a bow to the rightful Queen. “Your Grace.”

YN was in between her two brothers, one hand on the table and the other resting on Luke’s nervous back. She knew he would feel overwhelmed and inadequate at an official meeting of mother’s court so she offered her touch to comfort him. YN looked around the room and saw that her grandmother and Baela stood next to each other. 

Rhaena came up to Rhaenyra and held a cup out to her. “Wine, my queen.” 

Rhaenyra took the cup and thanked the girl, offering her to come up to the table with her, also signaling Baela to come with her to seat at the table. There was an air of silence in the room as everyone looked to Rhaenyra to do something. YN watched her mother with questioning eyes and wondered what she was to do first. YN wanted to call out for an attack on Kings Landing, they had the greater dragons, save for Vhagar, and the more support for the queen. YN knew what the common folk thought of her mother. What they thought of her. Many wanted YN to be heir instead of Jace but she stood firm in her decision to place Jace on the throne. 

“What is our standing?” Her mother started. 

“We have 30 knights, a hundred crossbowmen, and 300 men-at-arms,” Daemon explained. “Dragonstone is relatively easy to defend, but as an instrument of conquest our army leaves a lot to be desired. We have sent word to my loyal men in the City Watch. I’ll have some support there, but I cannot speak to the numbers.” 

“We already have declarations from Celtigar and Staunton, Massey, Darklyn, Bar Emmon,” The Maester spoke. 

“My lady mother was an Arryn,” Rhaenyra spoke up. “The Vale will not turn cloak against their own kin.”

“River run was always a close friend to your father, Your Grace. With Prince Daemon’s acquiescence, I’ve already sent ravens to Lord Grover.”

That did not seem to sate Rhaenyra, YN swallowed her tongue at what she wanted to say about their position and what she thought they should do. Knowing her anger and want to burn Kings Landing was mostly from her anger at Aemond’s betrayal of her once again. 

“Lord Grover is fickle and easily swayed. He will need to be convinced of the strength of our position and that we will support him should it come to war,” Rhaenyra said. 

“I’m going to treat with him myself.” Daemon explained. 

Steffon Darklyn spoke up next, “What of Storm’s End and Winterfell?” 

“There has never lived a Stark who forgot an oath. And as I hear it he has sent a betrothal request to Princess YN. If she accepts we have a stronger claim with them beyond us,” Bartimos spoke, looking at YN who stared at her mother. “And with House Stark the North will follow.”

“Lord Borros Baratheon will need to be reminded of his father’s promises,” Rhaenyra explained. Watching as one man placed a figure on the table then as YN handed Jace a figure for him to place on Duskendale. She then turned behind her to look at Rhaenys. “What news from Driftmark?” 

“Lord Corlys sails for Dragonstone,” Rhaenys spoke up for the first time. 

“To declare for his Queen.” Daemon loudly said. 

“The Velaryon fleet is in my husband’s yoke,” Rhaenys explained. “He decides where they sail.”

“We shall pray for both you and your husband’s support. Just as we prayed nightly for the Sea Snake’s return to good health. There’s no port on the Narrow Sea would dare to make an enemy of the Velaryon fleet,” Rhaenyra said before turning back to the table. “And our enemies?”

“We have no friends among the Lannisters. Thailand served the Hand too long to turn against him. And Otto Hightower needs the Lannister fleet.” YN watched her mother’s expression as she listened to Daemon . 

“Without the Lannisters, we are not like to find any allies west of the Golden Tooth,” Rhaenyra responded. 

“No,” Daemon paused for a moment. “The Riverlands are essential, Your Grace.”

There was a pause in the room, YN wanted to speak about the common folk, how she could rally them against the greens and take Kings Landing back. She knew many of the small folk looked to YN for many things and many would do anything for the Princess. But she held her tongue. There were not many on the court who thought of the small folk and did not see their value. But YN did and when she had the time she would tell her mother that she could rally them for her. 

“Pray forgiveness for my bluntness, Your Grace, but talk of men is moot. Your cause owns a power that has not been seen in this world since the days of Old Valyria. Dragons.” One spoke up making the room think of the power of the dragons. 

“The greens have Dragons,” Rhaenyra explained but she was cut off by Daemon. 

“They have three adults by my count. We have Syrax, Caraxes, and Meleys. Your sons and daughter have SeaSmoke, Vermax, and Tyraxes. Baela has Moondancer.” Daemon listed. 

“Daemmon, none of our dragons have been to war.” Rhaenyra countered. 

“There are also unclaimed dragons. Verminthos and Silverwing dwell on the Dragonmont, still riderless,” Daemon continued. “Then there are the three wild dragons, all of whom nest here.”

“And who is to ride them?” Rhaenyra asked. YN looked behind Rhaenyra and noticed someone coming in. She wondered what could be needed now. 

“Dragonstone has 13 to their 4. I also have a score of eggs incubating in the Dragonmont,” Daemon said, then walking around the table. “Now… we need a place to gather, a toehold large enough to house a sizable host. Here, at Harrenhal. We cut off the west, surround Kings Landing with the dragons. And we could have every green head mounted on spikes before the fucking moon turns.” 

YN never usually agreed with Daemon but she was pleased to hear what she wanted. She wanted to surround Kings Landing call the smallfolk to rally against the greens, have place each of their traitor heads on spikes. 

“Your Grace…” Ser Erryk came back in. “A ship has been sighted offshore: a lone galleon flying the banner of a three headed green dragon.”

“Alert the watchtowers. Sight the skies.” Daemon demanded and grabbed his sword. 

YN saw her mother leave the room with Daemon. She knew the greens were sending someone to demand her mother and them all bend the knee to Aegon. She would never, not for anyone. Lucerys turned to YN, but she never betrayed a look of worry. She merely brought a hand to his cheek and rubbed her thumb up and down. She knew her family would call to war and they needed all the allies they could get. So she made up her mind as she looked in Luke’s eyes that she would send a raven to Cregan Stark and accept his proposal. 

~~~

When her mother returned, YN had already sent the raven to Lord Stark. She now waited for the right time to tell her mother. Now she stood near her mother as they discussed the terms the greens had sent. Her mother declaring she would not rule over a kingdom of ash and bone. No matter how many times Daemon had said they had the greater number of dragons. 

“My father’s dead. And he chose me as his successor, to defend the realm not cast it headlong into war.” Rhaenyra said, countering Daemon’s claim. 

“Well, the enemy have declared war. What are you gonna do about it?” Daemon demanded. 

“Clear the room.” Her mother ordered. YN looked to her mother with questioning eyes. Rhaenyra gave her hand a squeeze before whispering for her to leave, that it would be alright. 

Rhaenys came up to her granddaughter and guided her out of the room. YN spared one last look at her mother before leaving. She knew her mother and Daemon would have this fight. Her mother was not as hot headed as Daemon, and not as blood hungry for war. 

YN did not want to seem blood hungry. She did not want the smallfolk to suffer a war caused by them. But she was so angry. She wanted revenge for this slight against her mother, for the betrayal of Aemond once again. Her friend, the one whom she still cared about no matter how angry she got with him betrayed her. He was planning on usurping the throne. And he had the nerve to pretend he wanted her. Maybe he did but she was not someone you crossed. YN spared a look to her grandmother before walking toward her brothers.