#except that somewhere was graveyards

[songofdeath]

love watching a necrit video of the most horrible lives of characters like: -urgot being betrayed and enslaved -miss fortune's lust for revenge against her murdered mother -thresh's corruption into darkness and evil -jhin's mental unwellness and brutal training turning him this way -vayne watched evelynn tear her parents apart violently

and then it just goes:

-karthus had to eat rats. :(

[fluffypichu876]

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

not my sunbro...

damn you miyazaki...

[petewentzssilkpress]

#

[rainrot4me]

On Unholy Terms

Summary: You’re an exorcist sent by the church to investigate a graveyard deemed to be unholy. After stumbling upon a ‘demon’, your determination quickly falters.

Characters: Eyeless Jack x Exorcist! Female Reader

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Probably definitely blasphemous, cunnilingus, big size difference, jack fucks you on a tombstone, vaginal, shaming, forceful entry, slight humiliation, biting, some blood, choking, degradation

Words: 3.6k

A/N: There’s slight symbolism of Christianity/Catholicism, please take it lightheartedly. I don’t mean to be rude :’)

This was stupid and you knew it.

You trudged through the overgrown grass, your skirt constantly getting caught on thorns and twigs littering the ground. The rosary you clutched close to your chest was cold, giving you some stability as your fear grew the deeper you went into the woods.

The church had sent you to investigate a series of murders near an old, abandoned chapel that had been left dormant after funding ran scarce. Several years ago, you had visited the church on different occasions, but as you entered the clearing, it looked anything but familiar.

Dense fog surrounded the area, the evening sky casting a dark orange glow through the forest. The rusty flashlight in your opposite hand did little to aid your vision as you stepped closer to the overgrown building. Vines and debris had overtaken the small church, and the beautiful stained glass windows shattered or faded from the lack of upkeep. It felt depressing, the ground looking anything but holy now.

You shuffled around the side of the building, the dark oak doors boarded together, police caution tape decorating the step’s railings. You sighed, shining your flashlight onto the rest of the building, but finding nothing worth interest. You thought the church was idiotic, this was a job for investigators, police or something, not some young exorcist who barely got work as it was. However, the church had deemed this case a holy one considering it was on sacred ground. Nonetheless, if you felt this was out of your pay grade, you would give the cops a call yourself.

You walked around the back of the building, a wide field revealing rows and rows of tombstones and crosses. A cemetery. A small gravel path led to an arched gate, a beautiful design etched onto the iron bars. You signed a cross, kissing your fingers before stepping through the threshold, showing respect to the grounds.

The sun was dipping behind the trees, a dark sky looming as the fog surrounded you making it harder to see. You stepped carefully through the assorted headstones, each reading off a different name you felt too busy to acknowledge. A crow called somewhere in the distance, startling you slightly as you shone your flashlight around frantically. Your nerves were getting to you, the stale air making it harder to breathe. So far, nothing had stood out to you, no signs of life or commotion, let alone dead bodies that were so frequently reported. You felt restless wanting to leave so quickly, but you had to report something back or you would be penalized.

Trudging the gravel path, you stumbled upon a rather large mausoleum. The beautifully designed pillars lead to its gated entrance. You shone your flashlight at the doors, goosebumps running up your arms as you decided to go inside. You stepped onto the marble steps, the rusted gate creaking loudly as you swung it open. You clutched your rosary tightly, sweat running across your forehead as you silently cursed yourself. The tomb was dark and stuffy, with plaques of the deceased marking where they lay in the marble coffins. You angled your flashlight, eyeing the old but stunning design of the interior. You stepped further into the tomb, several dark doorways gained your curiosity. You stepped toward one, shining your flashlight in but seeing nothing except bookshelves lined with what you presumed to be death records and documents of the deceased outside. You gulped, stepping to another one.

Your breath caught in your throat. Your flashlight landed on an assortment of blankets and pillows nestled into a corner, several water bottles and books askew across the floor nearby. Your heartbeat became uneasy, fear creeping into you as you took a step back, the rosary pinching your hand as you clutched it tighter. Maybe it was nothing, maybe some squatter had used the building to camp out for the night. You tried to calm yourself, wiping the sweat from your face with the back of your sleeve. A cool breeze wafted into the tomb, fluttering your skirt around your ankles as you continued searching the rooms. Suddenly, a loud screech filled your ears, sending your blood cold and you stumbling back onto your backside. You screamed as you threw your flashlight up quickly, frantically searching for the noise, panting heavily. Shining a flashlight on a crow desperately flapping his wings to escape the building, screeching again as he flew out and into the night.

You closed your eyes, taking deep breaths in you steadied yourself, blaming your imagination on your jumpiness. It seemed there was nothing but annoying birds and dusty graves, but no sign of any ghostly killer. You hoisted yourself up, reaching down to dust off your skirt before collecting yourself and shining your flashlight up again. That’s when you saw it, a tall figure resting his weight against the door frame of a darkened room. You held your breath, begging your body not to move as you could feel the tears well in your ears. The figure's ragged breaths echoed off the marble walls, his head angled to the side as if he was gawking at you. Your eyes flickered quickly, scanning his moves and praying he by some miracle moved on and let you leave. You prayed you would leave with no story to tell, but now you feared you wouldn’t leave at all.

The man pushed himself off the doorway, shoving his hands into his hoodie pocket and leaning in to meet your gaze. He towered over you, a good bit too. You wanted to run, to turn around and sprint out the doorway and never look back, but he interrupted your thoughts. “You’re a pest,” he grunted, looking you up and down as he slid the hood of his hoodie off of his head. He seemed to be wearing some creepy mask, the dark eyes sending your heart pounding in your chest. But his voice was calm, soothing almost, if it wasn’t handing you an insult. You gulped, standing up straight and letting go of the rosary hanging from your neck as you gripped your flashlight tighter.

“Why are you here? Who are you?” You croaked, voice catching in your throat from fear. You didn’t know why you were interrogating him, but this newfound bravery was short-lived as he stepped closer to you abruptly. You gasped, clenching the flashlight closer to you as he towered over you, head cocked and pressed too close for comfort. You whined, tears emerging again as his ragged breaths filled your ears. The rotten stench coming from him was consuming the whole room and your senses alike, making you close your eyes before tears threatened to spill. 

“I think a better question,” he snarled, sending a shiver through you. “Is why are you here?”

You peeled your eyes open, bringing your hand up to grip your rosary again. “I was sent… sent by the church.” You squirmed, knees slowly buckling under you as his presence pressed down on you. “Oh..” He groaned, standing straight again, running a hand through his spikey brown hair. “A holy little thing, huh? Come to catch some ghosts?” You could hear the grin in his voice, his hand leaving his pocket to rub the back of his neck until he caught sight of your rosary. He reached out sharply, taking the cross from your hands and pulling it to him, straining your neck to come towards him. You squealed, throwing your hands out and placing them against his chest as he examined the charm, trying your damnest to keep distance between the two of you. He chuckled, following the necklace up and squeezing the ends together, choking your neck slightly from the tension. “I’m afraid God won’t help you here, little thing.”

He tugged your necklace tighter, pulling you flush against him as his hands landed on either side of your face. He forced you to look up at him, tears pricking your eyes again and again. “Such a pretty thing, though. What a shame some old church sent you away to your death.” He lifted his hand to slide his mask up over his nose, revealing the jagged smile hiding behind. He separated his teeth, a long grotesque tongue slinking out and falling below his chin. It was inhumanly long, your eyes blowing wide at the horror as you began to tremble under his grasp. “Oh, God…”

He leaned closer, passing your face and finding the crook of your neck, sliding his long tongue against the bare skin with a growl. You tensed, a slight moan leaving your mouth at the chill running down your spine from the sensation. The man stopped, retracting his tongue from your neck and leaning back slowly, bringing his face to meet yours. His unsure face turned to a manic grin, his jagged teeth shining in the night light as his hands slid down from your face to wrap around your neck and slowly grip. He squeezed every so gently, applying just the right amount of pressure to make your breath hitch. “How unholy…” He chuckles, sliding his hands down further to sit at each side of your waist. You freeze, embarrassment hitting you as his gaze looks all over you now. “Now that I look at you, you ain’t half bad. Your little church get-up is… rather tempting for someone so ordained.” He purrs. You flush red, your mouth running dry at his lustful comments towards you as you squirm under his grasp. He leans down, mouth inches from yours as he stares directly into your eyes. “You’re not as godly as you let on, are you?” He whispers, tucking the tip of his tongue between his teeth as he taunts you.

Your face blows red, eyes refusing to look at his face and deciding his hoodie is much more interesting. He laughs, standing up straight and sliding his arms under your legs, hoisting you up over his shoulder with your butt sitting high in the air. You squeal, gripping the back of his sweatshirt and pulling desperately as he walks out into the night air, a cool breeze blowing your hair into your face. “I’ve decided to treat myself tonight,” He boasts loudly to you, walking you over to a rather large headstone and setting you on top softly. “Thank you, Lord, for this meal.” He taunts, sliding down to his knees in front of you and sliding his hands up and down your thighs. You begin to panic, gripping the cold concrete under your hands as you try to balance yourself and focus on the man’s movements at the same time. 

“W-Wait! Please!” You beg, bringing your knees to your chest as he tries to slide your skirt up your legs. “I don’t even know your name…” You croak, eyes wide as he stares into your fearful face. He grins, gripping your ankles and bringing them back down to dangle in front of him. “Jack. It’s Jack. And I promise, you won’t forget it by the end of tonight.” He chuckles, gripping the bottom of your skirt and sliding it up your legs, scrunching it up at your waist so he gets a full view of your lacy panties. You shove your thighs together, blocking his view as you shudder a breath. Jack slides his cold hands between your locked thighs, prying them open as he places each leg on his shoulders. He hooks his fingers under the hem of your panties, sliding them down and hooking them on your ankle as he slides closer, his face moving in closer to the apex of your thighs. You hold your breath, your core aching as you feel his hot breath pant against your soaked lips. “Hallelujah.”

Jack grips your thighs tightly as he licks a thick stripe between your folds, a ragged gasp shooting from your mouth as you slam your eyes shut. His tongue circles your entrance, flicking lightly against your clit as you arch your back against the feeling. He groans at the taste, pressing his tongue into you slowly, relishing in every flavor of your pussy he can taste. You moan out, his tongue lapping at the juices leaking out of you as your arousal grinds your hips against his face. Jack chuckles against you, sucking on your lips as he curls his tongue inside of you, making you whine. He grips your thighs tighter, your legs dangling off of his shoulders as his fingers hold onto you so tightly you’re sure they’ll leave bruises. “Ahh- Jack…” You groan, sliding your hand into his hair and gripping tightly to stabilize yourself. You feel the white heat coming over you as you groan against him, hips bucking as his tongue continues to curl and throb inside of you. Your release comes quickly, an unfamiliar ecstasy overtaking you as you come on his tongue. 

Jack groans against you, continuing to slide his tongue in and out of you as his nose brushes against your clit. He’s not stopping, if anything he’s speeding up his movements and driving his tongue deeper into your cunt. You whimper loudly, the sensitivity overriding you as you begin to squirm away from his touch. He only grips tighter, pulling your hips up and off of the tombstone as he presses his face deeper into your folds. Your thighs spasm, gripping tightly around his head while he laps at your pleasure. You begin to sob, gripping his hair tighter and pulling forcefully as you try to pull his head from your core. “Please! Please, it hurts… God- Jack!” You grip your hands in his hair, accidentally knocking his mask back and off of his head as you stutter your hips against his tongue. All of a sudden his movements stop, his tongue slowly sliding out of you as you stop in horror. His face, rather, his eyes. The lack of them makes your stomach drop. His eye sockets are nothing but pools of black tar, dripping down his face and staining his gray-ish skin. It’s like you can’t move, your pulsing cunt still sitting inches away from his face as he glares, or seems to be glaring, into your eyes.

“W- What in hell’s name…” You croak, Jack slowly releasing your thighs and sliding his hands up your legs, pressing against them to stand himself up. He chuckles. “Hell exactly, little thing.” Your eyes hold wide, your fear unallowing you to move. “D- Demon…” You whimper, your legs dropping back down and dangling off the end of the tombstone. He smiles, reaching to unbutton his pants slowly, your eyes shooting between them and his terrifying face. “A demon who just made you cum,” He slides his zipper down, pulling his cock out and slowly stroking it as he looks down at you, the red angry head pulsing as he slowly chews his lip in between his teeth.

“What would God say…? Hm? His holy little thing lusting after a demon spawn?” Jack grins, stepping forward and hooking his hands under your knees, bringing them around his waist. He pushes your skirt back up, exposing your dripping cunt to his large cock as it twitches between your legs. He’s very large, actually, fear striking you as you wonder if something like that would even fit inside of you. Jack notices you eyeing him, sliding his hands around your back and gripping you tightly as he positions himself at your entrance. Jack leans forward, placing a soft kiss against your forehead while he reaches his thumb to slowly circle your clit, a breathy moan escaping your lips. 

You watch carefully as he pushes into you, his tip stretching your entrance open and stopping when you begin to whine, gripping the shoulder of his sweatshirt tightly. Jack presses kisses against your forehead, breathing deeply as he works your clit trying to get you to relax on his length. He’s barely even in yet and you’re already so tight.

Large tears threaten to spill as Jack slowly nudges his dick inside of you. He’s so big, the girth of him catching on your entrance as he’s forced to press deeper and deeper inside. You whine and squirm, his hold on your hips not allowing you to back away from the stretch and sensitivity. Jack’s thumb rubs your clit quicker, his breath becoming labored as he slowly begins to thrust into you. It won’t slide easily, so he becomes contempt with tugging and shallowly nudging his cock-head into your warm core. Tears spill from your eyes, your mouth hanging open as you try to babble your pleas. “S’bigmm.. Shit-” You hiss, whining as you sob through the stretch of your cunt. Jack presses kisses against your forehead, licking your tears up as they fall. He whispers to you, cooing his praise into your ear as he grunts and curses. “You can take it…” He mouths your neck, licking against your skin as his eyes begin to slowly roll. “We’ll make it fit.” He grunts, nudging your thighs open with his legs as he grabs your back. 

Jack shoves his cock inside of you, your cunt pulling him in and throbbing against the stretch and pain of it all. He can’t hold back, your cunt so warm and wet that he moans into your neck, lapping at it before he bites down on the skin, sinking his jagged teeth in and making you scream. He latches on, the taste of warm blood coating his mouth and sending him into a frenzy. He pulls his length out all the way to the tip before slamming in and reaching so deeply inside of you that it makes your breath catch in your throat. You moan loudly, tears streaming down your cheeks as your head lulls back, Jack’s thrusts sharp and deep as you grip his sweatshirt for stability. 

Jack retracts his teeth from your neck, lapping at the blood trickling down as he thrusts into you like an animal. He holds you tightly against him, his fingers gripping into your back as he groans his pleasure into the crook of your neck. “Ssgood.. Mm- fuck! You’re suckin’ me so good..” You grip his hair, hips stuttering against his thrusts and matching his pace. You hook your legs tighter around his waist, pulling him in as deeply as possible. The stretch of his cock feels so glorious with each press against your g-spot. 

He kisses against your neck, moving up to your cheek and then meeting your lips, pressing them roughly against yours as he makes out with you. You groan into his mouth, his tongue sliding in and muffling your sounds of pleasure. He slides his hands out, hooking them under your legs and hoisting you up. He holds you against him in the air, fucking up into you like his personal fleshlight. You moan loudly into his mouth, his tongue exploring every crevice of your mouth as you roll your eyes. He slides his hand out from under your leg, gripping the rosary around your neck and pulling it tightly, cutting off your airway. He smiles against your mouth, hearing your labored breathing gasping as he pulls the necklace tighter. “You just love this don'tcha? Little thing milking me so good.” He groans, his hips stuttering faster inside of you, his cock jabbing deeply inside of you.

“Mmcomin- Jack-” You moan, air escaping you as you feel your cunt squeezing tightly around Jack’s length. He grunts, mouth hanging open as he stares into your flushed face, his cock twitching inside of you. He presses his lips against yours again, breathing in your moans as he feels you constrict against him. You moan out, pleasure washing over you as you cum on his cock, squeezing tightly around him. Jack grunts, unable to thrust anymore, he ruts up into your cunt, groaning loudly into your mouth as he spills into you. His thrusts eventually stop, bottoming out into you as he releases your necklace, you gasp, catching your breath again. 

Jack holds you tightly against him, breathing deeply into your neck as you catch your own. He slowly pulls out of you, and you wince from the pull. His seed spills down your legs, a groan escaping your lips at the lack of fullness you regrettably loved. Jack sets you on your feet, reaching to swipe his finger between your folds and sending a jolt through your body. He brings his fingers to his mouth, lapping up his and your juices and sighing at the wonderful taste. He pulls your skirt down, pressing a kiss against your forehead before zipping his jeans back up himself.

You shift on your feet, relishing in the kisses he places on your skin. “Uhm- Tha-” Jack places his hand over your mouth, leaning down to look you in your eyes. “Run along, little thing. Get back to your stuffy old church.” He leans down, picking up his mask and sliding it back over his face, bringing his hood up to completely cover himself again. You clutch your rosary softly, the cool night air blowing your hair slowly as Jack waves you off. “Will I ever get to… see you again?” You cringe at the desperation in your voice, shuffling on your feet. Jack crooks his neck again, shoving his hands into his pockets. “If I ever see you again, I’m afraid I’ll be eating a whole lot more than just that little pussy of yours,” he chuckles. 

You smile at him, turning to walk back down the gravel path as you see Jack make his way back towards the mausoleum. As you pass under the gated archway, you smile to yourself, holding your rosary closely.

What the hell were you going to tell the church now?

Thanks for reading!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

[greenerteacups]

I wonder often why Deathly Hallows as a book is so fascinated with wandcraft and wandlore, especially after the series has spent six volumes being more or less disinterested in it (with the exception of the Twin Cores plot in Book 4). A weirdly high % of the plot depends on who owns whose wand and why: the wand mixup with the Snatchers, Harry's wand being broken, Draco's wand, Bellatrix's wand, and of course, the final rigmarole over who's the "rightful master" of the Elder Wand, which ends up being a weird combination of killing/disarming/fist-fight to disarm someone who... wasn't even wielding the Elder Wand at the time he was disarmed, which begs the question of what it counts to "disarm" someone of a weapon they're not technically wielding? Also, are we to assume that Dumbledore was not disarmed once in the N years since his fight with Grindlewald? Or — here's a harder one — that Draco wasn't disarmed once between Dumbledore's death and his fight with Harry? That's plausible, but it's kind of weird that I need to believe it for the rest of the plot to make sense.

And like, I can think of a few Doylist reasons for this to be the case. The first is that JKR wants Voldemort to kill Snape in the boathouse, which allows Harry to get Snape's memories and retroactively justify why Snape's acted this way since PoA (and explain where the sword comes from in the lake in DH, too). I can think of better, more character-driven reasons for him to kill Snape (just... blow Snape's cover? reveal him as a double agent? have him try to kill Nagini? idk), but let's suppose, for subtextual reasons, she wants Voldemort to think Snape was loyal to the end. Having him die by Nagini's hand muddies the already-opaque water of what constitutes "disarming," because Nagini is a living creature. What if I drop someone into a pool of piranhas? Do I get their wand? Yeah, Voldemort commands her, but then — okay, what if I Imperius someone and make them disarm someone else? I get that it's not like DH has time for Harry to sit down with Ollivander and go through all of the tiny procedural rules for wand usage, but also, are these not relevant questions? Is this not the central mechanic of the final battle, this one piece of magic? Am I not supposed to wonder how it works?

The other reason I can imagine is that Harry wins a duel against Voldemort 1v1, which is not terribly believable unless there's some kind of magical advantage working in his favor. We know the Elder Wand's failure to execute the Cruciatus means Harry can't be harmed by spells the Elder casts, because it's his "true master." This is a really weird quirk in wandlore — why does it work this way? Is it the only wand that works this way? By that logic, shouldn't everyone Harry disarms be incapable of casting spells on him? — that emerges in Book 7, apparently for the purpose of giving Harry a buff in the final duel. Functionally, that's weird, because on a technical level it works the same way as Lily's protection — it's a reason that Voldemort can't hurt him. So why get rid of Lily's protection at all? It's not like he duels Voldemort between Book 4 and Book 7. The graveyard scene artificially hikes the stakes for Harry by making him physically vulnerable, pretty much only so he can die at the end of DH... except again, not for real, because Voldemort only ends up killing the piece of Harry that's a horcrux, so it doesn't even count!

And then Harry replaces the wand in Dumbledore's tomb. Which would be a nice moment if the lore hadn't established that anyone who disarms Harry, ever, will become the master of the Elder Wand by default. Harry knows this. He also knows that this knowledge is out there in the world; sure, Grindlewald's dead now, but do we think that Grindlewald never told anyone else about the Elder Wand? And he learned about it from somewhere, didn't he? So Harry might naturally assume that someone else would eventually come looking, in which case Dumbledore's tomb is far from the safest place to put this equivalent of a wizarding nuke. (Not that it seems to be all that powerful anyway; the coolest thing it does is fix Harry's other wand, and we're left wondering why the Elder Wand is considered "unbeatable" when people who own it seem to be getting disarmed all over the fucking place.)

Also, in retrospect, this makes it incredibly odd that Dumbledore allows Draco to disarm him, because he's giving the Wizarding Nuke to a 16-year-old servant of Lord Voldemort. Suppose that he's trying to prevent Snape from getting the wand, because he doesn't want Snape to be a target: okay, fine, but does he know Draco's going to give Snape credit for the kill? What if Draco lies? What if LV just... accepts the fact that the wand recognizes Expelliarmus as a point of transfer, and either disarms or kills Draco? And in any case, no matter what the answers to these questions are, why didn't he just ask Harry to disarm him before he went to the lake?

I'm usually not one to be an asshole about plot holes — mostly because, taken by themselves, I don't find them that interesting — but they become interesting to me when I see several of them in the same vein, because they tell me that the author's trying to do something. And they want to do it so badly they're willing to strain other parts of the story to make it happen.

[aphrogeneias]

sympathy for the devil — one-shot

pairing: vampire!eddie munson x slayer!reader x werewolf!steve harrington

summary: during a normal night of your slayer duties, a familiar pair pays you a visit.

word count: 2.4k

warnings: smut (+18), graveyard sex, semi-public sex, threesome, oral sex (f and m receiving), fingering, praise and degradation, slight choking, eddie is a little mean.

author's note: this was written for the prompt "vampires and werewolves" of my 2023 kinktober entries list. i hope you enjoy it! this au will be expanded in the future.

The fascinating thing about cemeteries at night is not the haunting atmosphere, or the shadows made by the architecture, nor is it the art gracing the stone walls of the tombs and crypts. It’s the sound of the wind coursing through empty corridors between the gravestones, like a low and ever present symphony, a calming presence throughout the night.

On a slow, autumn night, you find it almost comforting. While you sit on top of one of the many tall tombs, clutching on your fluffy coat sleeves to keep you warm, the air current resonates around you and keeps your senses focused. The heavy crossbow strapped to your back does the rest.

A Slayer’s night life is much more interesting in theory. In reality, it requires a lot of planning, sitting and waiting, and it has been your routine since the tender age of fifteen - it got awfully boring sometimes. The dark of the night and the creatures that dwelled in it did not scare you anymore. You’re the one they should be scared of.

Not that there’s anything to scare tonight, except for the occasional roach roaming the ground and startling you whenever you catch a glimpse of them. Are Vampire Slayers allowed to fear insects?

Please, don’t tell anyone.

A rustling in the grass catches your attention. It’s approaching fast and steady, therefore it means one of two things: either a normal human who has nothing better to do on a tuesday night, or something else looking for trouble. You know it’s not a new vampire — the ones you were waiting for this evening — because the newly undead are slow and confused when fresh out of the grave. These heavy steps were already right behind you.

You jump out of the tomb, fast reflexes whipping out your crossbow and promptly aiming at your unknown target. As a warning, for now. You aren’t the shoot first, ask questions later kind of girl.

At the sight of you — chin raised, eyes fierce, crossbow at the ready — the target in question smiles. Full on, white teeth and sharp fangs. 

“Missed me?”

The sight makes your knees weak, and not in a good way.

“What are you doing here?”

Eddie Munson looks exactly like he did when he crawled out of whatever hell hole he fell in 1986. Not that you know from experience, you weren't there, but it was obvious. The messy, shaggy hair cut, unruly curls you regrettably dreamed of pulling on again. All the leather, latex and spikes, the a-little-too-tight denim. The devil may care attitude that may have outcasted him one day, now just more of a nuisance than anything.

Despite his carefreeness, you'd seen his scars. He didn't go down without a fight, and whoever sired him wasn't just a regular vampire. It reeked of something far more sinister than what you were used to.

Maybe that's why you'd grown soft on him.

He shrugs. "We were in town. Thought we'd pay a visit to our favorite girl."

You're yet to see the other person Eddie was referring to, but make no mention of it. It's less complicated this way — after numerous encounters with Eddie, you learned that it's better to speak less, lest he uses what you said against you.

When you don't respond, he merely steps closer. His head tilts to the side, curls falling down his shoulder. There's a small lift to the corner of his lips. Asshole. "Aren't you happy to see me?"

"Happy is an overstatement. Just glad you're here and not wreaking havoc somewhere else."

Eddie chuckled, deep in his throat. You can't deny the effect it has on you. "Are you gonna watch over me? Keep vigil? I could think of better ways to spend our time."

"I could kill you." There is no conviction in your voice, but your eyes remain harsh and your face guarded. “Stake to the heart, problem solved.”

There is, however, a lot of conviction in Eddie's. “You wouldn’t.” In defiance, he draws closer and closer to you, the wooden tip of the arrow triggered in your crossbow digging into his chest, but not hard enough to break through. Despite yourself, you lower your weapon little by little, until it lays useless between the two of you.

“You would miss me too much.” The vampire’s low voice right below your ear, his chest now brushing yours. You hope he can’t hear your growing faster by the second, like a hummingbird stuck inside your ribcage, but you know it’s too late for that. His lips touch your earlobe with every word uttered. “Besides, if you kill me, then who’s gonna make you cum like I do?” 

Another voice comes from behind you, startling your already withered nerves. "I don't know. I think I could handle that on my own just fine." 

There he is.

Steve Harrington isn't usually as much of a thorn on your side as his partner is. You'd met him in high school, almost a decade ago. Rich parents, cute girlfriend, royalty status — he disappeared one cold October night after your graduation and returned with an excessively hairy problem every full moon.

He doesn't look like the stereotypical werewolf. Clean cut, polo shirts and pressed jeans. His luscious hair always coiffed to perfection. Some things never change.

You're not sure how or when they've met, but Eddie had been a problem since before you took the mantle of the Slayer, a local legend and an overall menace. He'd show up, make a mess and you were there to pick up the pieces, every time.

Eddie took advantage of your soft heart, and used it to toy with you. Play with his food, in his own words. You hate it when he says that, but you can't help but agree deep down. You've been his — their — plaything one too many times, and this time looked no different.

You turn around slowly, crossbow forgotten at your feet. "I was wondering when you were gonna show up."

Eddie leans closer to you, chest to your back. He's cold, but you feel the sleek fabric of his leather jacket through your coat. "So, you missed him, but not me?"

"Didn't say that." You roll your eyes, always impatient around him, even as he runs his nose over your pulse point, going against your every rule, every survival instinct. "It's just that, these days, where there's one, there's the other."

Steve is in front of you in a moment, caging you between them. "And we're here just for you." Caramel eyes with a tinge of yellow smile at you, his nose brushing yours. 

It hasn't been that long since the last time you've seen them. Now, between them again, flashbacks of a late night in your room, the open window welcoming the night air in as they took you, shadows dancing on the walls of your bedroom.

"Aren't you two sweet?" You mock them. Though your breathing has picked up and you know they could hear just how fast your heart is beating, the faux sweet tone of your voice drips with venom. "What are you really doing here? I don't have all night."

"She doesn't believe us, Steve. What will it take to convince her?" Eddie's deep voice strokes something inside of you. At the same time, his hands travel under your coat, to the slope of your waist, keeping you rooted in place.

"You know what it takes." Steve's hands, warm in contrast with Eddie's cold ones, wander under your breasts, then down to your jeans, settling on pulling you by the belt loops. "Touch her the right way and she'll stop fooling herself."

"Fooling myself?" Your arms are still limp by your sides, but their hands keep moving, igniting your body.

"I know you want this, sweetheart. You know it too, but you keep fighting it like this is the first time all over again." Eddie is practically purring behind you, "Let go. Let us take care of you."

You don't get to answer. Steve's lips are on yours, and your bodies are moving in sync, like a choreographed dance. You know each other's moves, each other's cues, what makes the other tick. Eddie is running his mouth across the expanse of your neck, kissing and sucking the sensitive skin under your ear, and down between your neck and shoulder.

It makes you pull on Steve's hair harder and in turn, he moans into your mouth, but doesn't stop kissing you. That's until you feel Eddie's sharp teeth dragging on the skin of your neck, not hard enough to break it, but enough to make every nerve stand in attention.

"Eddie," you whisper, strength slipping through your fingers at every touch of the vampire behind you, "no biting, please."

He chuckles, "Someday you're gonna admit you want this."

Steve nuzzles your cheek with his nose, "Eds, let her be."

"She knows it's gonna feel as good for her as it would for me." He turns you around, away from Steve's arms into his, "But that's okay, I can wait."

The kiss he leaves on your lips is an uncharacteristically sweet one. "I still need a taste of you, though."

Lost in his voice, in the smell of cologne and the cigarettes you don't know why he insists in smoking, in the flash of red in his deep brown eyes — predator luring in their prey — you feel yourself being manhandled by four hands, laying you down the elevated tomb you were previously sitting on.

You let go.

You let go like the last time, and the time before that. You've denied yourself too many things before, but this is yours, and as conflicted as you feel, it still feels good.

It feels good when Eddie lays you down, the cold of the stone beneath you giving way to the scorching hot feeling taking over your insides, the tingle on your lower tummy when he removes your jeans along with your underwear. 

"You're cute when you're all docile like this, y'know?" He's kissing up your thighs, leaving a trail of spit to the crease of your hip, almost where you need him the most. "Cute, little Slayer, on her back for me."

"Fuck you, Munson." You bite back.

"I'm trying to, baby. Will you let me?" Another kiss is laid to your mound, just above your clit. You let out a shaky breath, vaguely aware of Steve standing just beside you.

"Just get over with it." You mumble through your teeth.

Eddie doesn't waste time. His rough hands are cold on your thighs, keeping then spread open, but his tongue is wet and soft, delivering long licks from your entrance to your clit, flattening his tongue on it. He alternates between licking and sucking, slurping on it, like the slick that it's pouring from your pussy feeds him just as well as your blood would.

Bucking your hips into his face, you whine to the skies above you. Looking to your side, you reach out for Steve, who watches you with haze filled eyes. It's a wordless conversation — you reach for his belt, pulling him by it, and he helps you unfasten it. 

He's hard when you pull him out of his boxers, and the size of it never ceases to impress you. Steve pumps his length in his hand as he watches Eddie eat you out, his partner moaning into your pussy and making you moan in turn. "Take your time, honey."

You do. When his hips are right in front of your face, you start by giving kitten licks to his head, and taking it in your mouth to suck on it. Steve blushes a pretty pink, and there's the yellow flash in his eyes again, glimmering in the night.

It's a push and pull between the three of you. You take Steve in your mouth, inch by inch as Eddie feasts on your pussy, taking a minute to lift your shirt up, but still leaving your coat on. You're practically bare, Eddie's hands wandering over your body, tugging and pulling on your tender flesh, as you gag on Steve's cock.

Deep down, you wonder what someone would think if they wandered in on you like this. Deep down, you can't bring yourself to care.

"Look at what a good girl you can be. You just choose not to." Eddie coos from between your legs, just before sucking your clit between his plush lips, making you cry out. "You want to be a good girl for us. You fucking love it."

"Don't fight it, baby." Steve's voice is wrecked, but the movements of his hips don't falter. You feel him twitch deep within your throat. "Fuck, you're making me feel so good. Your mouth is heaven."

"This pussy is heaven too. Can't believe you want to deny me this." Eddie complains, but still pleases you, two of his fingers curling inside of you as his mouth leaves you for a moment. "I'm going to hell anyway, the least you can do is give me what I want."

If you had your mouth free, you would think of something clever to say — but you couldn't, because his long fingers felt too good against the spot that your toes curl and your eyes blur, and his mouth is back to assaulting your clit with quick flicks of his tongue.

You want to warn that you're close, but you can't, because Steve is pulling your hair and coming in your mouth as you suck him dry, the slurping noises spurring all three of you on. His moans cease as you swallow his spend, and his thumb comes to, almost too tenderly, wipe the rest that spills down your chin.

Your eyes plead to him, and Steve says, "Eds, I think she's close."

"Then cum, sweetheart. You can cum, it's okay. Let me have it."

It feels like you're exploding when he delivers on final, long suck to your sensitive, puffy clit. A silent scream comes from your opened mouth, lips forming a perfect 'o'. Your thighs lay limp on each side of Eddie, and he makes his way up your torso. Steve pulls himself into his pants again, and leans down too. They're each watching you with something strange in their gaze, too soft for the lust that permeates you, the smell of sex strong and vibrant still.

"Can we… can we go back to my place, please?" You plead when you regain your voice. "Anyone can see us here."

"Now, what's the fun in that, little Slayer? Scared that they'll see how much of an obedient slut you are for us?"

"You're the obedient slut, Munson."

His hand goes to your neck and squeezes. "We'll see about that."

[mediumgayitalian]

part three

———

The first step should, in all likelihood, be the easiest.

(“I’m not sure this is something you can really plan,” Annabeth had suggested gently, “as much as my mother would disown me to hear it. I mean, everything I did with Percy kind of just…happened.”

“Yeah, and I’m sure the five years of pining misery and fighting off several other people — one of whom was literally me — was a real walk in the park for you.”

“…Plan on.”)

It is not the easiest.

“You’re telling me the flowers…say things.”

If Nico reaches back into the farthest recesses of his memory, as in things that are shoved somewhere between his sister’s soft sobs the one time he got sicker than he’d ever been and has ever been since and the time he’d walked in on Alecto skinny dipping in the Phlegothon, he can vaguely remember a lengthy rant from his stepmother on something called the language of flowers. He had, at that time, assumed she was simply trying to convince him that everything had voices again, and ignored her.

“Yes,” says Miranda from Demeter Cabin patiently. “Every flower has an assigned meaning. More than one, usually. You can say very rude things with flowers.”

Nico perks up, intrigued. “How do you say ‘you’re a fucking c—”

“Okay,” Jason interrupts, plastering a strained smile on his face and slapping a hand over Nico’s mouth. Nico bites him, hard, and the smile becomes even more strained. “We are actually looking for much nicer things to say with flowers. Kind things. Appreciative things. Feelings, you know. Nico?”

He lifts his hand, looking at him in warning as if Nico is going to be quelled by his Stare of Judgement, of all things. Nico stares back at him until he starts to look appropriately cowed, satisfyingly afraid of the horror that lives inside Nico’s eyes, except he — doesn’t.

He doesn’t look scared at all, actually, which is — which.

Nico takes all thoughts pertaining to the issue and shoves them away.

“I need,” he says haltingly, looking back at Miranda. She looks at him encouragingly.

She doesn’t look afraid of him, either, although she glances quickly down at the circle of grass he’s killed by virtue of standing on it and says, politely, “If you could maybe stop that, I would appreciate it.”

Nico swallows, stepping back. “Sorry.”

“No worries.” She swoops down, hands outstretched, murmuring something too soft for him to pick up. Under her gentle fingertips, the grass blooms slowly back to life, tiny strands uncurling and swelling with virility, stretching towards the sun. Even the dirt smells sweeter, like churned garden soil rather than graveyard dirt.

Something dark and bitter crawls up Nico’s throat — he will always need people to clean up after his messes. No matter how hard he tries. Miranda with the plants, Solace with every one of his endless injuries, Bianca with — everything. She cleaned up after him a lot.

She was only twenty-seven months older than him. He wonders how she would have liked being fourteen, and has to choke back the sob that tries to claw its way out of his trachea.

“Not a lot of people have flower language memorized,” Miranda says, dragging him roughly back to the present. Her large brown eyes are back to focused on him, so he forces himself into normalcy and stares back. “And it’s kind of vague, so I need something to start with. Who’s it for?”

“Classified.”

Nico considers, once again, opening up a chasm beneath his feet. His geokinesis is no bene so he’d probably take Jason and Miranda down with him, but. Necessary sacrifices, et cetera.

“Understandable,” Miranda responds without so much as a beat. Huh. Suddenly, he feels bad for considering her collateral. “Just this then: friend or foe?”

Nico looks at Jason. Jason looks back at him, like, dude, seriously. Nico scowls at him and his uselessness.

“Friend,” he says begrudingly. “…More.”

Miranda nods in understanding. “Ah. Will, then.”

Nevermind. Chasm it is.

“Man, I hoped you guys would finally do something,” Miranda continues, oblivious to the ground trembling slightly under her. (Jason, however, appears alarmed, so Nico summons a tiny skeleton hand to grab his ankle in revenge.) “I love Will to pieces, but there are only so many times I can hear him wax poetic about you before it starts to get embarrassing. When we were twelve you saved his life and he actually cried because he didn’t know how to form the words. Just weeping everywhere about your sword and your hair and how you look a little crazy when you smile in battle. Did you know there are, like, a million syllables for brown? I do. He thinks your eyes are a tie between moonstone and agate, in case you were wondering.”

“I have actually heard that,” Jason mumbles, as Nico’s brain whites out and leaves him, tragically alone, to suffer. “I thought he was just super into geology.”

“Oh, he is. He’s a little into everything. There’s a bi joke, for you.”

“Oh, ha, I get it.”

Is that his body, stranded somewhere below him? Hi, body. Good to see you. You look like hell. Feel free to summon your soul back into yourself at any time, that’d be great.

“I am generally bad at functioning,” he admits, once his essence has begrudgingly reattached itself to his cells and his blood stops ringing quite so loudly in his ears.

Miranda shrugs. “I think you’re pretty okay. Once Percy had to get five stitches on his lip because he was half asleep and mixed up his plate and pizza and bit clean through his plate. It only really needed four stitches, but Will laughed so hard he couldn’t focus right and tore the wound a tad before fixing it. By accident.”

Nico tries very hard not to picture that laughter, not to remember the first time he heard Will laugh, not the hundreds of times after; a loud sound, a musical sound, despite his insistence that he has no talents. Laughter like olive oil laughs in the pan, like wind laughs as it rushes through the poplar trees.

Jason nods sympathetically. “Mondays are hard.”

“Please,” Nico begs the both of them. The nerve he’d summoned after the encouragement of his friends is slowly leaking out of his eyeballs and soaking the ground. “I just need —”

He can’t finish that sentence, either. I need to give Will flowers so he knows I have….intentions, with him, is the most embarrassing sentence ever to be conjured by man, and if he has to say it aloud he knows his father will smite him out of pity, as is their deal. It must only be implied, and even then, he could get egged by any member of Cabin Eleven and turn into a breakfast buffet, his face is so godsdamn hot.

“Will, is, like, unbelievably dense,” Miranda says, taking pity on him. She waits for Nico to finish choking, patting him firmly on the back before continuing. “I guess that’s not fair. He can be quite observant, he just has worse self-esteem than you, even, no offense, so if you are trying to seduce him you’re going to have to be very obvious.”

The wheezing that she has just circumvented starts all over again. This time, Jason joins him. Miranda has no qualms or shame — fitting, since Nico has met her mother, who also has no shame about anything. Nico will never be able to forget that she is the goddess of fertility.

“Who the fuck said anything about seducing,” he manages, finally, lungs chilling somewhere on the grass.

Miranda ignores him. “I would usually say something simple like daisies, but they can be representative of friendship and he will for sure assume they are friendship flowers. Hyacinth can communicate a much deeper breadth of emotion, but, uh —” she glances at the Apollo cabin — “I would avoid Hyacinth.”

Nico sobers. Yeah. That would be wise.

“I think roses send a little too strong of a message for your purposes, so I’m thinking carnations. Pink ones.”

Recovering from the implications of the roses — he’s a little out of time, not stupid, he knows what they mean — he looks at her curiously. “What do pink carnations mean?”

She shrugs. “Love and affection, really. Sometimes gratitude, and in some poetry their colouring is compared to a pleased flush.”

Although he expected much more agony in this particular step of the journey (not that their wasn’t a good, healthy amount; can’t feel good feelings for too long if you’re Nico di Angelo, Cursèd, Son of Hades, Prince of the Underworld, Ghost King, Et Cetera, Et Cetera), pink carnations seem surprisingly…right. Love and affection, he can handle that, and if there’s one thing he always is, regarding Will, it’s grateful. Maybe the whole damn camp should be giving him pink carnations.

“Here.”

Sensing Nico’s hesitant acceptance, Miranda swoops down to the ground, digs around a second, shoots a quick prayer to her mother, and waits. A moment later, several blush-pink flowers shoot from the dirt, along with — Nico squints to read it — a book about the history of grain cereals. Miranda looks confused about one of those two things.

“I am constantly plagued by the Ancient Greek Theoi and their various whims,” Nico explains.

“Your life confuses me,” Miranda responds. She hands him the book and the flowers. For once, Demeter’s gift seems to be the less volatile object of the two. “I’m going to go meditate about it.”

“Good call,” says Jason.

“Thank you,” Nico calls, belatedly, to her retreating back. He glances down at the flowers in his hand. “Jason,” he says, voice strained.

He sighs. “Oh, here we go.”

“Jason, I have to move.”

“You’re fine here,” Jason says patiently. He places a hand on Nico’s shoulder and begins to steer him towards the Big House. Nico, distraught, refrains from judo flipping him into a tree.

“I ruin everything I touch, Jason.”

“You helped out with the strawberries just fine last week.”

“Strawberries are not people, Jason.”

“The kids seem to like you. You let them keep weird skulls and rocks and shit they find in the woods, and they like that.”

“Children are not completely incomprehensible sons of the sun, Jason.”

“Will likes you. By his own admission. He thinks — and I’m quoting here — that you’re gorgeous, even when you’re glaring at him and rueing your own existence.”

Nico has nothing to say to that, because he still can’t quite believe that’s true. It’s — surreal. He had no arguments against it, because he knows, objectively, that Will was not lying, and he can see, with his eyeballs, that Will smiles every time they make eye contact, unless Nico did something stupid in which case Will is huffing and muttering about patients and demigods and how increased power is directly correlated with increased stupidity.

Mostly smiling, though.

At Nico. With love and affection and oh, gods, he is going to ruin things so bad.

“Look,” Jason says, stopping them in front of the porch. Nico takes the pause with equal parts relief and panic, turning to him with the flowers clutched to his chest. “You have — issues.”

Nico blinks, waiting for more sentence. Surely that cannot be all of it.

“…Yes,” he acquiesces, when no sentence is forthcoming. “I am an interloper in this timeline. I am an omen of death. I am —”

“Gods, you’re dramatic.”

Nico agonizes.

“You will be fine, Nico, please, I don’t even know what the hang-up is. He said he likes you, there is literally not a single soul in this camp unaware about how much he likes you. Right?”

The rickety screen door of the infirmary bangs open, slamming against the frame, startling them both so hard they cause a slight earthquake.

“Oh, you got them, you got them!”

The overworked and overstressed whirlwind known as William Andrew Solace bursts out of the infirmary, tripping over his own shoes and nearly landing on his face had Jason not caught him.

“Woah, dude,” he says, steady hand on his waist. Nico reacts to that totally normally and Jason’s shadow does not at all try to swallow him. “What’s wrong?”

Will barely responds. “Nico, you are the best, I owe you forever —”

Stumbling out of Jason’s hold, he lunges over to Nico, plucking the flowers out of his hand and spinning right back to the infirmary. In total bewilderment, Nico and Jason follow him, watching as he tosses the bouquet in the air, hands glowing golden, and mutters a quick hymn. The flowers begin to droop, then wrinkle, then fully shrivel up, totally dead as they land back in his hands.

“What the fuck,” Jason whispers.

“Sun-dried is better, but I don’t have time,” Will frets. “Son of sun will have to do. Ha. You, and you, over here.” He points to the nurses desk with the yellowed stems, no trace of a question in his voice. The two of them scramble to comply, ducking under the half-door and standing awkwardly behind the counter as Will clears it off.

“That stupid prank — remind me to kill Cecil tomorrow, Nico, if you don’t mind — has three whole cabins covered in skin welts. I don’t have enough beds for them all, and they need to be quarantined, anyway. I haven’t had time to go get more ingredients in between cabins, let alone time to make more ointment.” Two massive stone mortars slam the counter, making both of them jump, followed by pestles with blunt heads roughly the size of Nico’s fist. “Pulverize the petals as fine as you can.” He splits the dead bouquet in half, handing them each six flowers each. “Petals only, no stems or seeds. I’ll be back in twenty minutes to gather it. Oh, and Nico —”

He pauses for a moment, taking a breath. Hesitantly, Nico reaches out and places a gentle hand on his wrist. Instantly, the worried line between his eyes melts away, and he smiles; tired but radiant.

“I owe you one,” he says softly. “You always know just what I need. I’ve been using rose, ‘cause that’s what we have, even though pink carnations is better, but we ran out an hour ago and I’ve been freaking out cause I —”

“Solace,” Nico interrupts. He squeezes gently. “Breathe.”

He does. Inhale, hold, exhale, breath tickling the hairs in Nico’s arm, causing goosebumps to bristle all over his skin. (The grateful smile pointed towards him at full power has nothing to do with that. Obviously.)

“I’m good. Just — thank you, Nico. You knew exactly what I needed.”

A loud groan sounds from somewhere to the east, in the vague direction of Cabin Ten, and Will rushes off without another word, medical bag stuffed to bursting. There’s a thump, and a quick, “I’m good!” and then the sound of running in flip-flops. Nico ducks his head to hide a smile, turning to the dried flowers.

“Well,” says Jason after a moment. “You tried.”

Nico shrugs. He starts plucking the petals off and dumping them in the mortar, Jason quick to follow his example.

“I’ll just have to try harder next time.”

———

part five

[witch-hazels-musings]

hello hazel !

can i request a curse ritual for diluc with graveyard dirt, black tourmaline, and hellebore?

Graveyard Dirt (loss, grief), Black Tourmaline (safety, shielding), Hellebore (anger, wrath) Diluc x gn anemo reader | Curse Ritual warning: physical fighting (battle scene), mentions of blood, Diluc uses a Delusion, mentions of bodies, lots of flame mentions (reader is injured)

"Where is he?" you asked but the eyes that stared back at you were hollow, empty. Another reaction was set off somewhere behind the wall you were using for coverage. "Hey, look at me." You cupped their dirty face and they met your gaze. "Where did he go?"

With a weak arm, they pointed to the right and you took no time waiting. Something cut the stone above you, shards of Geo raining down onto your head. You dropped to a knee, waited, listened, then ran again.

That bastard, you thought as you dashed through the swarm of engaged bodies all hoping to come out of the encounter alive. A member of your resistance slid across the ground in front of you, their head slamming into the worn dirt, eyes rolling into the darkness of their bloodied head. You cursed.

They weren't responsive when you reached them. Even with several slaps on their cheek, they continued to lay there, lifeless. Swift footsteps alerted you that someone was approaching - fast. You twisted and used the body of your comrade to stabilize yourself as a Fatui assailant brought their weapon down toward you.

The collision rattled your bones. You winced.

The skirmisher lept back and you capitalized on their retreat by sending a wave of Anemo toward them. It set them off balance which made it easy for you to craft slicing blades of wind at their tripping feet. The skirmisher retaliated with blasts of Pyro, and each one passed by you with violent heat.

Desperate to end this encounter, you called on your vision, and from nothing, daggers made of heated wind appeared around you in a vicious halo as you barreled toward them, sword positioned to strike.

The skirmisher crumbled at the onslaught, unprepared for the slew of biting slices that cut them to shreds. The wind died down and with it rose the cry of countless other battles. But one stood out among the rest - and you ran to it.

---

You stood at the top of a shallow cliff, frozen, petrified by the sight before you.

Where once lush, green fields stretched, now only charred earth and limp bodies remained. And before them was a lone fighter blanketed in flames.

Diluc.

He was nearly unrecognizable in the torrent. He moved like an unrestrained fireball. Bounced off one enemy, then another until nothing was left of them except dust and ash. From his back, black, crackling wings propelled him forward straight into booming Electro and biting Cryo. The world became scared while you watched on in horror.

Go.

Go -- Go -- GO!

Slipping on the loose stone, you pivoted and ran down the edge of the cliff. The fight raged on, consumed whatever got too close. The ground trembled as the Cryo skirmisher fell into the black while licking flames covered their body.

You called out to Diluc but he couldn't hear you. Not now.

The Electro skirmisher used his weapon as a shield but screeching wings sliced through their defenses. Even at this distance, you could feel the heat. It made your throat dry, burned your lungs with every inhale, stung your eyes, and seared your skin. But you pushed forward.

"Diluc!" you called but the walking barrage trudged forward, uninterested. It seemed nothing could rouse the man beneath red and rage. In the middle, somewhere faint, was a flicker of purple - a light so minuscule you wondered if it was a trick. And then you remembered -

He promised.

He promised not to use -

You ran faster.

Using your Anemo, you pried your way through the heat, letting it push you forward while Diluc's wrath shoved you back. You screamed for him but the blistering air dried the words on your tongue. The glove on your outstretched hand peeled away so you brought your Anemo closer to protect your skin.

The purple light flickered.

All you had to do was reach it.

With the last bit of strength you held, you grasped the Delusion with battered fingers, ripped it free, and tossed it behind you. The disconnection made Diluc rage. He screamed in a way so painful it took all your willpower not to run back to the device and press it against his chest. He writhed and pivoted with desperate, searching eyes for the power you stole from him. Flames leaked from every part of him, pushed outward in pyres of confusion, anger, and fear, but you held on. Coiling yourself around his neck, you hid his face in your chest and willed him to the ground.

"Come back," you begged, voice crackling like forgotten wood. "Don't let them win. Fight it - fight!" You called on your Anemo and let it swallow the two of you in its torrent. "Come back to me."

The air coiled around you and slowly expanded until, finally, the flames were quelled in a frenzied explosion.

Diluc's body felt limp and heavy, and you struggled to keep him upright. The two of you pitched to the right but before you landed on the ashen ground, his hand slammed into the grey soil keeping you both steady.

Diluc's arm wrapped around your back, his fingers dug into your muscles as he pressed his face into the crook of your neck.

"I have you," you whispered into his hair and he repositioned so he could hold you against him until he stopped trembling.

Thaumaturgy Anthology (October 11-13, 2024)

This event is based on spells and rituals. Inspiration does not equal understanding; liberties have been taken. All content is owned by Witch Hazels Musings, theft of these images and stories will result in immediate action.

[wannaeatramyeon]

Adventures of YOUR part time job in the Lookismverse: Part 2

Part 1 here. G/N. You still work the graveyard shift in a convenience store. Some bizarre characters return. Part 3

Your first day on the job, your boss had told you to greet everyone that comes through the door in a cheery voice and with a customer service smile. All you could think was fuck that.

He told you it was so people could approach you for help, as if your uniform wasn't a huge flashing sign, and so potential shoplifters would be deterred. Again you think, fuck that, because at the first whiff of any danger you're going to go hide somewhere secure and out of sight. There ain't no way you're risking your life for a minimum wage part time job.

Except now you're on your own and sure it comes with a little bit of danger and wariness but you don't have to and don't plan on greeting any people again.

So you thought.

.

.

You spot him a fucking mile away. DG strides through the doors and you're not sure to ignore him completely or to say anything.

It's like he wants you to acknowledge him from the furtive glances he keeps giving you but something about his shifty behaviour makes you keep your mouth shut.

Heavens, hasn't this guy ever heard of subtle. He's in an all white get up once again, hat on, mask on and the most eye-catching blinging Chanel necklace known to man. You think you might go blind if you stare too much at it.

So does he want attention or not?

"Hi," he says, standing in front of the counter. He's empty handed.

You want to say 'Hi DG, going for discreet tonight huh?' or 'Sorry your last album sale sucked' or 'I heard they're cancelling you for bad mouthing BTS'. None of them feel right. You settle on "Welcome. How can I help?"

He asks if you recognise him this time and from the way your eyes bug out to say obviously, he then proceeds to ask how.

You pause because you don't know whether this guy is serious or whether there's a hidden camera somewhere.

After what feels like ten minutes, but in reality is probably ten seconds, you gesture at him. At everything. His hair, his white outfit, his necklace. It’s not exactly like he’s going to blend in with the crowd, is it?

He gives you a nod and leaves.

You watch him exit and proceed to climb into the flashiest car you have ever seen, parked right in front and across three (one, two, THREE!) handicap bays.

You think he's most definitely an attention seeking narcissist.

.

.

The guy that bleeds all over your floor comes in again.

You know it's him because he apologises for bleeding all over your floor and that he scared you so much you called the police. In all honesty, you completely forgot about it but even the mere mention of that pisses you off.

"It's fine," you tell him even though it's not, not really, but at least this time he's not bleeding and he has apologised twice already so as long as he's not gonna be weird, you'll accept his apology.

Except he does turn out to be a weirdo because he gives you a grin and you think he looks pretty cute even with his lip and nose scar, then he makes it weird with a wink and you think what even is this, who winks at people anymore.

He must have mistaken your cringe for encouragement though, as he continues to ask if you need any help with your shift and he can call the boys to help you out tonight as an apology for the other week.

You're not sure if this is a pick up line or if it's a threat. Either way, you decide it's the latter as you make up your mind that he must be a psychopath because only a psychopath would wink at strangers.

You tell him no. He doesn't seem deterred and tells you his name is Jake. Your first thought is to cover the name badge pinned to your chest but he's too quick. He says your name, and that he hopes to see you again.

You give him a nod and hope he leaves.

.

.

This oddball in sunglasses is unbearably smug as he slides his ID over to you.

You check out the date of birth and it's fine.

"It checks out," you give his ID back and ask him to pay for his cigarettes.

"Don't you have anything else to say?"

You frown at him because what does he want you to say? Like oh I knew you were a Capricorn (or is it Aries or Cancer. You don't know, you don't really know your signs). Or does he want you to comment that it's a flattering picture of him on the card because in all honesty, it's not. 

Still, he obviously expects something because he's standing there not doing anything.

"We take cash, card or you can pay through your phone."

That isn't what he's looking for. He tenses up, and you think he rolls his eyes at you but he's got sunglasses on-

Oh. This black eyed bastard. Does he expect an apology for the last time? Well you're not apologising for shit, you're just doing your job. It doesn't matter if he's of age. Rules are rules. No ID, no sale.

You stare at him instead with your polite customer service smile that actually means leave me alone. He stares back.

You stare. He stares back.

You stare - and you think that you must look like an idiot just standing there with a vacant smile but it's worth it in the end because the guy sighs, pays for his cigarettes and leaves.

Good. You hope he chokes on the smoke.

When your temper has cooled, you also feel a pang of sympathy as you wonder what sort of hard life he has had to look like that at 20. Poor guy, he really should quit smoking.

.

.

You're sitting outside on the curb on your break. It's technically loitering, your manager told you the first time he saw you and you consider hitting him because not only do you have to stand under terribly unflattering lights and deal with the goddamn general public for hours - now you can't even sit outside and breathe some fresh air?

Somehow you manage not to, which means you never got arrested for assault and that's pretty good, you suppose. It's nice to not be arrested.

Anyway, he's not here now, and he's not here most shifts so you loiter to your heart's content. You make sure to loiter extra hard tonight.

"What about this? So much better than fucking Duke Pyeon, right?" Someone comes up to you with music blaring out of tinny speakers. You consider sprinting back and locking yourself in the store. It's 4am and nothing good comes from speaking to strangers at 4am who like to blare shitty music.

Except he's not a stranger because you recognise the music style. It's so bad that you know that there is no way two different people on Earth would come up with the same sound. In fact, it actually gives you such a visceral reaction that you look for anything close by to jam in your ears.

There's nothing and you want to cry. For a brief moment you consider bashing your head into the ground.

You hold back, contemplate saying it's fine except you can't bring yourself to lie when it’s so clearly not. It’s not fine at all. You think it might be what the military or covert agencies play to torture people.

You don't look at him, keeping your eyes glued to anywhere but his face and mumble your break is over and rush back in.

He doesn't follow you and you give a brief thanks to whatever great overlord is looking over you and protecting your sense of hearing. 

You wonder if that guy is actually part of an elaborate plan from your boss as punishment for loitering, or if he somehow knew you took an extra seven minutes on your break yesterday and he’s now taking extra precautions so you’re not stealing any more company time.

.

.

The hair dye guy is back, this time buying another colour.

You recognise him from the H on his forehead and you know that he has unsuccessfully dyed his hair because if his hair looked like that last time then there's no way you would have even noticed the H.

It's awful. Blotchy and patchy and you're certain that you don't stock that colour. How on earth...

He tells you he's studying to be a hairdresser.

You never used to think hair could feel pain, but you distinctly hear millions of tiny screams from your own head when it realised this butcher might one day get his hands on innocent people's locks.

.

.

Just when you're on your way home, one foot out the door, you hear someone call you.

"It's me, Y/N!"

Maybe the voice should be familiar but you don't place it at all. You look at the guy towering in front of you with a blank face.

"Daniel." he says, as if that should jog your memory.

Who?? You say nothing.

"Daniel Park." You look him up and down and think what the fuck, this isn't right.

"Daniel. Park." he stresses as if you're the insane one and it's perfectly acceptable for apparently some guy you haven't seen for a year to say hi but look completely different and sound completely different.

You're not an idiot. You know puberty is a thing but jesus christ. It can't be him. Even the bone structure is completely different.

"Ok." you say because you're still not sure if this guy is Daniel or whether he's just crazy. You're 99% sure it's the latter and keep one hand in your pocket, ready to attack with pepper spray.

Although if this is Daniel Park, you wonder how good the plastic surgery technology is these days because you wouldn't mind adding an extra inch or two to your height.

"I'm just in the middle of working out," he says, "in a junkyard." he adds and you wonder what is happening in the world. This guy is definitely insane.

You're a second away from pulling out the spray but then he tells you he's gotta go or else he's going to get beat up (Again. What the fuck.). He says it's good to see you and you tell him likewise because that's the correct thing to say.

You hope you never see this crazy person again but most importantly you think about resigning because this store just seems like a magnet for freaks.

Maybe you can get a job at your boyfriend's Taekwondo studio. Surely the fact you know nothing about Taekwondo wouldn't be an issue.

[lovebugism]

I know this is early, but fights on Christmas for the prompts thingy. Maybe with Punchy x Eddie? Or with Steve?

ty for requesting angel! hope u like it :D — eddie tells you that his dad is coming to hawkins for christmas and an argument ensues (peach x eddie, angst, hurt/comfort tw for toxic parents, 1.5k)

blurbcember ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

The smell of a homecooked dinner lingers in the air, warm and nostalgic. You spoon the leftovers into plastic containers for when Wayne gets home from the graveyard shift. Eddie’s laughter sounds from the distance, where he takes a phone call in the living room. The sound is warmer. More nostalgic.

He hangs up and walks back to you, wearing a bright pink grin that shows all his teeth.

“Who was that?” you ask, smiling because he is.

Eddie shrugs, trying to be nonchalant despite his beaming. He crosses his arms and leans against the counter across from you. “That was— That was my dad, actually,” he tells you, still a bit dazed about the whole thing. He’d almost forgotten what his father’s voice sounded like before now.

Your grin fades. “…What?”

He nods with his brows raised behind his fluffy bangs. “Yeah. He’s, uh— He wants to come to Hawkins for Christmas, apparently. Said he’s finally got some time off work, so he’s gonna drive up here in a few days and stay for a while.”

Work doesn’t mean work — not with Alan, anyway. You know this, so you’re not entirely sure why Eddie doesn’t. If you had to guess, the asshole got up to too much trouble and needs a place to lay low until it all dies down.

You try to be supportive of your smiling boy, but your concern is evident, practically dripping from your features. “Oh. That’s… That’s… Does Wayne know?”

“Um, I don’t know. He didn’t say.”

“Don’t you know why that is?” you ask him, trying to laugh. It comes out much more bitter than you intended it to.

“Uh… No?”

You drop the wooden spoon into the bowl and face him entirely. Your hip digs into the counter’s edge — a distant pain that doesn’t rival your burning anger. “He’s not telling Wayne because he knows Wayne won’t let him stay.”

Eddie’s chin jerks back like he’s flinching. “I don’t know what you mean,” he says with a forced chuckle.

You sigh. You don’t want to be insensitive, but his obliviousness makes you impatient. 

“Eddie… He’s… Your dad…” You try to explain it all to him, but you can’t find the words to. There are far too many ways to describe his father, and you come up short in the end. “I mean— you’re not letting him come, right?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” he laughs.

“Because he doesn’t deserve to see you, Eddie. Or Wayne— He doesn’t care about either of you, you know that.”

Eddie goes agape with shock. You’re not usually so confrontational. You’re unusually argumentative, and it surprises him — offends him. “You say that like you know anything about him,” he argues with a scoff. He’s still smiling but there’s little warmth behind it.

“You don’t know anything about him!” you retort, a little harsher than you mean to. Your hands flail as you gesture wildly. “He doesn’t know anything about you, either, Eddie. He’s an addict. He chose thatover you a long time ago.”

Eddie clenches his teeth. You can see it in the way his temples shift. “I told you that because I trusted you,” he says with a tight jaw, trying not to show you how angry he is. “Not for you to use against me—”

“I’m not using it against you, Eddie. I’m trying to protect you!”

He scoffs a cynical laugh. “Well, you’re doing an awful good job of that, aren’t you, Peach?”

His unusual bitterness stings somewhere deep in your chest. 

You don’t know why he’s being so blind. 

Except, you sorta do. You’re the resident expert of letting assholes into your life over and over and over again — like a kicked puppy that doesn’t know when to stop coming back.

That’s the root of your frustration, you think. You know a lot more than he’s giving you credit for, and it’s infuriating to be written off so easily.

You huff and turn away from him again. You pop the lids onto the tupperware containers to busy your trembling hands. “Fine. Let him come. I don’t care. I’m not the one that’s gonna get my heart broken after all this.”

“Wow,” Eddie muses, dragging the vowel for effect. “That’s real sweet, babe— what would I do without you?”

You leave the bowls to cool on the container and disappear down the hallway. You go to his bedroom for your bag, and he doesn’t follow behind you — you’re not sure you want him to. After nearly a week in the trailer, you figure you’ve spent entirely too much time together. 

And as much as it hurts, you know it’s not the end of the world.

If you and Eddie — the neurotic type A and the laid-back-to-a-fault type B — can survive hanging up  Christmas decorations together, you’re pretty sure your relationship can survive just about anything.

He’s still lingering at the counter when you get back, idling like he’s been waiting for your return. He sees your bag slung over your shoulder and deflates like a popped balloon. “Where are you going?” he wonders despite his ebbing anger.

“Home. It’s getting late.”

“It’s barely nine o’clock.”

“Exactly,” you hum, stilling when you reach his side. You press a chaste kiss to the apple of his cheek and walk towards the door without looking back. “Call me when you tell Wayne.”

“C’mon, Peach. You don’t have to go.”

You turn back with your hand on the rusted brass door knob. “I’m mad at you,” you say with a soft smile on your lips.

Eddie grins back at you but doesn’t press it any further. You’re allowed to be angry. Hell, he’s still a little angry, too. And if you wanna be alone, then so be it — as long as you’re back in his bed when all the bullshit’s over with.

‘Cause he’s mature and everything like that now.

That’s why he just smiles as he tells you, “Call me when you get home.”

—————

You call him when you get home that night.

He calls you the next morning when Wayne gets home, all worked up because his uncle took the news about as well as you did. 

You’re not a total asshole, so you don’t rub it in his face. When he comes to you after a few more days have passed — fighting back tears because his dad ditched him all over again — there are no I told you so’s. No bitterness or stupid comebacks. 

You just hold him and love on him like you always do. He needs that now more than ever, you figure.

You sit with him on your couch while he hides his tears in your lap. His dirty sneakers scuff the cushions that you’re usually a stickler about keeping clean. You quickly find that you don’t care as much as you thought you did, because you’ve never seen your boy so sad. 

It makes your chest ache. Like his heartache is your own in some way.

“I’m an idiot,” Eddie grouses, muffled into the pillow in your lap. He feels like one, anyway. He’s spending the week before Christmas crying his eyes out because he was too stubborn to listen to you. 

He’s a total dumbass. 

The dumbest of dumbasses.

Your fingers dance through the soft strands of his chestnut hair, scratching gently at his scalp to keep him grounded. “No, you’re not, Eds. Your dad’s just an asshole.”

He scoffs, managing a small laugh despite his tear-stained face. “Yeah. That too.”

“And that’s not your fault, either. You know that.”

“No, I know,” he insists, sniffling as he turns onto his back. His chocolate eyes are rimmed red and slightly glassy. His cheeks are softly flushed, speckled with a rosy heat. Strands of hair stick to his wet jaw. You smooth them away with the palm of your hand while he wipes at his reddened nose with the back of his.

“I just… I guess I just thought he’d changed, you know?” he confesses, voice wet with emotion.

You nod sympathetically. “I know. It’s the worst feeling in the fucking world.”

You have a different kind of experience in that department — the skeleton in your closet that always comes back to haunt you department. For you, it’s Billy. For Eddie, it’s Alan. The sting is a different one, but it still hurts in the same place.

“I should’ve listened to you, huh?” Eddie asks, the corner of his lips curled into a sad smile.

“I know why you didn’t want to,” you assure, smoothing your palm over the top of his wild head. You hope the warmth of your touch will aid his inevitable post-cry headache. “But I didn’t say it to hurt your feelings, you know that, right?”

“I know. I knew it then, too, I just… didn’t want to believe it, I guess.”

“I know what it’s like,” you promise. And then, when you see his mouth twist into an apology, you cut him off as gently as you can. “And don’t apologize for it, either. It’s okay, Eds. I promise.”

He grins at you, still a bit weighed down with leftover emotion. 

His eyes squeeze shut when you swipe tears from beneath them, the edges of them crinkling ever so slightly. And when he opens them again, they glimmer with a newfound life. 

No one on earth is as resilient as your boy.

[rain-day-today]

Little crack thingy of mine is Natsu has like really cool shit in his part of the woods. Hes a dragon hes gonna be a hoarder

Like he lives in a little secluded part of magnolia a nice way out of town (also my headcanon) and with this unlimited space he can do well anything.

He just randomly has a small garden of some of the most poisonous plants ever because “ some nice lady gave’em to me on a job!”. A couple strawberry plants are thrown in because Erza bribery.

Theres a little shed somewhere (probably by the river) filled with fishing gear he and Happy have collected over the years. I swear to god Happy has a mini tire swing over that river.

Somewhere around the back theres a second even smaller house except this one is just a junk graveyard. Like no rooms just boxes on boxes of stuff. If you need to find some kind of old retro thingy just dive right in, its gonna be there.

In his actual house, other than the wall of fame he has baskets filled with keepsakes, little shiny nicknacks, and “good luck charms”. If disposable cameras were a thing he probably has a basket of those lying around somewhere.

Most of the time it doesn’t create any issues cause no one goes out there, but one day he has to extend/clean his house or something and the guild is helping out (cause its like BAD) and they end up uncovering like dozens of boxes filled with straight up gold bars and expensive trinkets that he forgot he was using as his “savings”.

Lucy is about to actually strangle him because what do you mean shes been paying for all that food he inhales out of pocket when he’s literally been sitting on a pile of money?!?

[httpknjoon]

(re)starting over again | kth; 10.5

plot | Your four-year relationship with Taehyung was going well and strong. Until he was involved in a car accident, resulting to him losing some memories. By some, it means everything that happened five years ago. Things he remember? His friends, his bakeshop, and his ex girlfriend from the past. With that, you tried to keep up, restarting over again.

words | 3.5k

genres | fluff, angst, amnesia au

pairing | taehyung x reader

warning/s | -

note | more angst haha I swear rainbows and sunshine are coming soon. icymi, I made a spotify playlist for this series! it gets updated every time I write for mc and taehyung. expect it to be angsty haha! anyways, enjoy reading this one. let me know y'all's thoughts.

main masterlist | series masterlist

“Are you sure about this?”

Gail, your supervisor, looked at you while holding the paper you gave her just minutes ago. Your heart beats heavier and louder as you stood in front of her. Gail was never a terrifying supervisor to you. She was always considerate. But this thing that you’re doing right now is still nail-biting. You came to work early today just so you can talk to her. No one knew about your plan except you. 

“Yes,” you replied, unconsciously fiddling with the fabric of your scrub pants.

She stared at you for what felt like a minute. You cannot even read what’s going on in her head. Her eyes wore no emotions and her lips formed a thin line. She moved her sight to the paper again. You felt like you needed to say something.

You cleared your throat, “I’m sorry if it seemed too soon.”

“Oh, it’s fine. We all know two weeks is the minimum time for notices like this.” Finally, her lips broke into a small smile, easing you for a little, as she looks at you again. “May I ask your reason for making this decision?”

You didn’t hesitate on telling your true reason, “I need to take a break and a new environment due to recent circumstances.”

That was two days ago. Gail approved your resignation letter after that exchange and was supportive of your decision. She said you can come to her anytime if you need a recommendation letter for your next employer. Your two-week notice began that same day without anyone– even Jisoo or Julia– knowing. You don’t want to disturb Jisoo because she’s already stressed enough with her wedding.

“You coming home?” Julia asked as you two get your bags on your lockers. 

You two just finished your graveyard shift at seven o clock. You just had a twelve-hour shift but you’re still off to somewhere.

You shook your head, “Not yet. I’m taking a train to Incheon.” 

Her head tilted in your direction, “What? Why? That’s like an hour's ride from here.”

“I’ll be checking this studio apartment unit I saw online,” you answered like it’s not a big deal.

Her eyes widened almost instantly, “You’re moving?!”

You quietly nod your head to her surprised question. A hint of excitement was also obvious in her tone.

“That’s far! Have you told Jisoo yet?”

“Nope.”

“How about Taehyung? Is he going to travel from there to his shop every day? And the house–”

“I still haven’t talked to him about it.” you cut her off calmly before she can ask anything else.

Julia was quick to understand what you meant. Your lips formed into a small, sad smile after saying that. Julia just waved her hand back when you waved yours as you bid goodbye. She instantly knew that moving to a new place isn’t the only life-changing choice you’re making in your life right now.

It was a couple of days before Jisoo and Namjoon’s special day, exactly three days in your two-week notice. Raindrops just happened to visit every night you have a late night shift. You didn’t notice the weather until you heard the roars of thunder while you were in the shower. 

You were busy the whole day in your room. Just cleaning up, feeling like a robot, numbly working so much but eating less. You only had a late breakfast. Taehyung made you buttermilk waffles with fruits, leaving it in a Tupperware on your kitchen counter. You ate and made sure to leave no dishes in the sink. Like a ghost, that’s how you liked to describe your recent presence in your shared home.

You find yourself busy since morning, removing photos in the frames you displayed before and folding some of your clothes from your closet to your luggage. Then, you prepared for your eight-hour shift. Just five minutes past ten in the evening, you walked out of your room ready to go.

“Hey.” 

You saw Taehyung sitting on one of the chairs on your kitchen counter. A thin sheet of smoke from the cup on the table showed he was drinking tea. 

“Hi.” you greeted him shortly.

The shorter your response is, the smaller the chances of small talk, you thought. 

“I packed you some light snacks there. Just some granola and fruits. Also, yogurt.”  

You want to feel something. The joy and giddiness you always have when Taehyung does nice things for you, pre and post-accident. Something that will make your day and shifts your mood. But you almost felt nothing now.

“It’s raining hard tonight,” he mumbled, looking outside the small window in your kitchen.

“It is.”

You tried to busy yourself with putting the snacks he prepared in your bag, not even looking up at him. Not until he said,

“Can I walk you to the stop?” 

Finally, you looked at him. He cannot assume if you’re surprised based on your expression because your face remained blank. No emotions at all.

He continued, ”I just want to make sure you’ll get to work safely.”

“Okay.” Whatever you say.

“You know, you don’t have to do any of this.” You were just looking ahead as you resumed, “You’re not obligated to do anything with me.”

“I wanted to do this.” He replied.

You knew he was looking in your direction through your peripheral vision. As much as you wanted to believe his sincerity, you don’t want to get your hopes high. He was just being nice. That’s it.

Before you go, he handed you another extra umbrella. No one said a single word. You sat away from the windows, just at the back of the bus. Because you knew damn well that you might feel guilty if you see Taehyung frozen on the same spot, waiting for your bus to leave.

“Wake her up. I’ll take out our stuff.”

Jimin unfastened his seatbelt after parking the car. Taehyung turned his head back to your direction. You have been sleeping throughout the whole night and none of them bothered to wake you up when they had a quick stopover since they knew you came from an overnight shift earlier. He got off his seat, gently closing the passenger door.

“YN….” he softly calls for your name.

It took him two more calls before you hummed and moved on to your seat. Your eyes were still closed as you respond to him, still half-asleep,

“What?”

“We’re here…”

Slowly, your eyes opened. You blink a couple times before rubbing your eyes as you sat back properly. Slightly confused, you looked around. He watched as you slowly get back to your senses and realize that you have arrive at the event venue.

“Oh…” you said under your breath. You ran your hand on your dress to smoothen out the tiny wrinkles. Unexpectedly, you turned to Taehyung, “How do I look? Did my hair–”

“Lovely,” he murmured.

For a moment there, you thought you heard a small beat inside your chest. You stare at each other’s eyes and the first thing you sense was familiarity. Then, longing. Then, abruptly, you looked away. Taehyung wasn’t sure if your eyes began glistening before you blinked away. He was about to ask when Jimin spoke outside the car,

“Is she awake? Let’s go. The rehearsal is starting soon, we still have to get these bags in the hotel.”

Thank God, you found a slight relief. Taehyung moved out of your way to let you get out of the car. Minutes later, you, Taehyung, and Jimin are walking to the entrance of the hotel when someone greeted you.

“Oh, my god. Hi!”

Yoonji, Jisoo’s cousin and also one of the bridesmaids, greeted you on your way into the small hotel meant for guests. He recognized her as one of the girls who brought you home after Jisoo’s bachelorette party. You two hugged for a quick second while she smiled politely at Taehyung and Jimin, who introduced himself.

“You can just go tell the receptionist your names. Then, they will say what’s your room number,” she instructed in a little hurry. “The rehearsal will be starting in a few minutes!”

She was pulled by another woman, who you assume is Jisoo’s other relative. You followed what she said and the receptionist was pleasant when she asked for your names. After that, she handed out two keys.

“Room 23 is for Mr. Park. Room 27 is for Ms. YN and Mr. Kim.” Kath, the said receptionist, said.

Your jaw almost dropped while Taehyung froze. Jimin, who stood between you two, immediately noticed your silent reactions. He took the initiative to ask,

“Uhm… May we request another room?”

Kath shook her head, “I’m sorry, sir. But the Kims were the ones who arranged everyone’s rooms.”

You cleared your throat as your brain began processing again, “But do you guys have other available rooms that we can pay for?” 

“We’re currently fully booked, miss. We assume the Kims already booked enough rooms for their relatives and other important guests. So we had our further rooms booked for other visiting guests in town.”

After squeezing your eyes shut while listening to her explanation, you just forced a smile, “Okay, we understand. Thank you.”

Your rooms were on the upper floor and there were only stairs. Taehyung offered to carry your small luggage for you but you declined. Both men could not tell if you were pissed as you kept a straight face until you and Taehyung stood in front of the twenty-seventh room. He unlocked the door for you two.

“Hm.” 

You unconsciously let out a heavy sigh as you and Taehyung scanned the whole room with your eyes. The room was not that… spacious. But it has what a guest needs. A king-sized bed, closet, own bathroom, a table and a chair, and flat-screen television mounted on the wall for entertainment. Plus, a big window with big curtains. 

“You know, maybe I can just go to Jimin’s,” Taehyung, who’s standing behind you, suggested.

But you looked at him, “Do you want to?”

“What?” he blinked, maybe he misheard it.

“Do you want to go there? I mean, this is a king-sized bed. I’m fine sharing it, less hassle. We can put a divider or something.” you recommended, pointing to the bed.

“Are you okay with that?”

You nod, “Yeah. Are you?”

“Okay.” Taehyungs nods too.

“Okay,” you whispered.

It was silent again after that. The atmosphere was weird and maybe suffocating. You are starting to hate this kind of air every time you’re with him. It’s encouraging the decisions you’ve been thinking about lately. Breaking the ice, you looked up at him.

“Uhm, we should go. The rehearsal’s starting soon.”

“Thank you for helping make tomorrow the perfect day for us.” 

The wedding rehearsals earlier were quick as it was not that complicated. Everyone was later invited to the rehearsal dinner. Your seats were pre-arranged. So of course, you two sat next to each other. 

Jisoo was in the middle of her dinner toast when Taehyung took a glance at you. Your sights were focused on the couple who stood in the middle of the event. Your lips formed into a relieved smile as your eyes brighten.

"Tonight, we appreciate you, the people we treasure the most. We toast to having the best wedding team ever!"

Everyone raised their glasses of wine and champagne and took a sip from their drinks. Then, everyone began talking to someone while enjoying the rest of the dinner. Everyone around you and Taehyung is having fun conversations. Even Jimin, who is now talking to some guests. After stealing another glance in your direction, he thought of making a conversation with you.

“I’ve never seen Namjoon that happy,” he mumbled as he looked at his friend.

Unexpectedly, you responded, looking at the couple, “So is Jisoo. Look at their smiles.” 

“How did they meet?” he asked.

“Oh, it’s a really good meet-cute.” you chuckled, shoulders visibly relaxing. 

Then, you began talking about the beginning of your friends’ love story. You were proud as you shared that you were present when they first met. And after days of getting blank stares and rejections from you, Taehyung can see a genuine smile on your face again. He can listen to more of your stories if that is what it takes for you two to be okay again.

The conversation plays out until you and Taehyung decided to get out of the event since guests began going too. From Jisoo and Namjoon’s meet-cute, the topic jumped to how you had a couple of double dates with them. You were enjoying telling stories that you almost forgot about that gloomy feeling you’d been having in you for days now until Taehyung asked another question while you two stroll your way back to your shared room.

“Maybe we could do that again with them?”

You turned your head at him, raising an eyebrow, “What?”

“Double dates. It seemed like we had fun with them,” he replied, hands in his pockets as he smiled softly.

Then, once again, these heavyweights slowly landed on your shoulders and you can feel something breaking inside of you, making you clutch your palm on the skirt of your dress. Taehyung quicking took notice of you pausing and looking at him with lips slightly parted and the joy in your eyes faded, worrying him.

“Hey? You okay?” he asked gently, looking at you.

With that, you snapped out of your trance and nods, “Yeah, sorry.”

God! Get ahold of yourself. You remind yourself. You remembered your things packed back at home and the resignation you signed days ago. You already had a plan and this sudden idea from Taehyung should not change any of it. Unconsciously, you let out a sigh. Taehyung’s heart beats faster.

“Did I say anything wrong?

“Oh, no.” you forced a smile as you took steps with him to the stairs. You let out an awkward chuckle, “I just don’t think we can do double dates anytime soon.”

“Ah, yeah.” he went along.

And it’s silent all over again. But this time, there was this air between you two. You both can feel that someone wants to say something to another. But, both of you two can’t. With every step closer to your room, the air gets thinner and thinner. And when you stood outside your door,

It shattered.

“Can we talk?”

“Can I talk to you?”

Both you and Taehyung said at the same time. You two were staring at each other when you said that. And when you two realized what happened, you looked away with an airy chuckle. You opened the door and he followed inside.

“So… are we going to talk here or outside?” Taehyung spoke when he saw you opening the curtains, letting the fresh air get into the room.

“Uhm, here’s fine,” you replied before inhaling again on the small balcony.

The original plan was to let Taehyung know about your plans after this event. But you just can’t keep it anymore. Especially after you reacted with Taehyung offering ideas like double date again. Taehyung wanted to wait too and he was willing. But he felt he needed to say what he wants now. It might help your relationship at the moment.

“Okay,” you whispered.

You sat on the soft mattress of the bed. Taehyung took a seat on the chair next to the table, just a few feet away from you. He watched as you bit your lip, looking down. You fiddled with your fingers and he can see your chest heave. You were visibly nervous and it makes him wonder what are going to say. 

“YN–”

“Can–”

He nods at you to continue and you did, “I was just going to ask if I can go first.”

“Sure,” he answered, leaning back in the chair.

“Okay. Thank you,” you said every word with the heaviest sigh since you find your heart pounding like crazy just now. 

With all the will in your body, you focused your sight on the man in front of you. His hair was pushed back and the first two buttons of his shirt are unbuttoned. His eyes gaze back at yours, you wished you can just communicate with him through this since it might be easier. But you can’t. And within seconds, you can feel the tears at the edge of your blurring sight.

“Taehyung…I… Uhm…” you stuttered when you see a flicker of concern in his eyes. But you continued, “I’m leaving.”

He just stared after you said that. Then, you read the confusion on his face, “What?”

You gulped, “I’m leaving this… arrangement … or whatever this is called. Us. I’m leaving us.”

Your hands shake while waiting for a reaction from him when you said that. But you cannot read his face anymore so you went on.

“I’m moving out of the house. I already looked for an apartment. I know, the house is our shared property. We can talk about the whole splitting thing when I–”

“Are we breaking up?” Taehyung finally said something. His eyebrows were scrunched and his eyes were surprised. But his tone was in between shock and sadness. And maybe mad. You cannot tell.

“Is there even any relationship to break?” 

That was the first thing that came into your mind and you barely thought about it as you said it. You matched his tone. Now, it feels like you two were overwhelmed with emotions and the silence that followed after your question helped to at least make you calm a little. 

Taehyung, on the other hand, is not off his peak of emotions. But he was quiet. He doesn’t know what to feel. He cannot tell what he’s been feeling. Even after what happened these past few days, he didn’t expect to hear this from you. 

“You don’t know me, Taehyung. I’m basically a stranger to you and I’m more than grateful to you for at least letting me take care of you after the accident. But it’s not your obligation to be with me just because I was your girlfriend. The last thing that I want is to force you to stay committed–”

You were ready to end the conversation just like that. But Taehyung cut you off,

“What if I want to? What if I want to be with you now?”

“What?”

You didn’t sound happy. Because you’re not. Taehyung sensed it, you felt quite the opposite when he said that. Still, you stumbled with words.

“Wh– No! N-No, you don’t.”

“I do,” he said like you were challenging him to say it.

You remained unhappy and let out a firm, “No.”

“I do. Why do you keep–”

“Because that would just make me feel shit! You only want me now because you learned what happened between you and Lily!”

Taehyung’s mouth immediately ran dry. For the first time ever since the accident, you raised your voice at him. It’s like watching a volcano explode. Warm drops of tears flow down your cheeks. Your lips were quivering as you continued. Your shoulder shakes as you continued,

“You can’t just choose me like that! That’s fucking unfair! I– I’ve been feeling nothing but awful and lonely for the longest time. I can’t even sleep without having a nightmare about that night! And now that I’m trying to do something for myself, you’re telling me you want to be with me? Right after talking to your ex behind my back? The ex that you originally remembered as your girlfriend? Taehyung, that’s just so fucking unfair.”

You remained seated on the bed but your hand was clutching on the sheet under you. Your voice became weaker as you reached the last sentence. Wiping your tears, you cleared your throat,

 

“If you want me now, that would make me feel like someone you just kept around as a second choice. You know?”

Hearing that, Taehyung instinctively shakes his head, “No, it’s not like that–”

“But that’s how I feel right now,” you confessed in a sad whisper. “And I’m scared that the longer I try to keep this relationship, the higher the chance I’ll lose myself in the process.”

That was another confession. After countless talks and reflection with yourself and your close friends, you knew that sooner or later you have to go for your own. It just took you long to accept it and take a step. You were hopeful then.

It took some minutes for someone to say something again. There was like a big question in the room with you, asking, what’s next. Taehyung who remained speechless in the same chair, just watched you quietly. While you got up from the bed and reached for your phone and room keys. 

“Five years was a lot to be missed and forgotten, Taehyung. I just think that if we go on our separate ways, you can focus on exploring what you lost without the pressure of being committed to me. And I can try to focus on myself again.”

taglist rules

this series' taglist is currently under-construction and renovation lol reply if you want to be added

RESTARTING OVER AGAIN TAGLIST [🔧🔨 ]

@iamkookiesforyou @aianloveseven @hoodalmighty @taebangtanbabe @kthsmoon @nooojaaam @hiimnothing @hiqhkey

PERMANENT TAGLIST

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[smellslikesouls]

on the creaking / the pale garden from the new minecraft update, here’s some things i would add / improve on.

and just to clarify, i don’t want this post to be about hating on the update, i’m a big fan of the concept and i hope they could add some of the things i’ve said to just push it a little further, and make it as good as it could be! this is meant to be constructive criticism with proposed solutions

1. taller trees that create more of a canopy so you can’t see the sky

2. fog and particles. dark particles from the moss, like mycelium, but a bit more noticeable, like spore blossoms. it would also be really cool if the fog could come from flowers, similar to terraria’s graveyard biome system where you need a lot of the flowers to make the fog roll in. (which means you could also place fog anywhere manually. the dream oml. would keep biome fog color so you could also make nether fog denser if you wanted too) the flowers would be similar to cherry petals but smaller with black stems and white petals

3. make the leaves white or grey to match the hanging moss, and stay that color when in other biomes

4. add a summon and despawn animation to the creaking, similar to the warden. maybe it could come out of the side of the trees instead of the ground to differentiate it, with more subtle creaking wood sounds instead of the wardens digging and smashing sounds

5. also make the creaking run away or dig into the ground and pop up somewhere else after attacking (similar to creatures in subnautica fleeing, which makes those moments much scarier. more of an encounter focused on fear than a battle focused on winning.)

6. generally just better texture for the hanging moss. with the current one it’s very obvious to see where the texture starts and ends, unlike vines or glowberries. also applies to the moss on the creaking itself and sorta the log? idk the shading on the textures this update feels really off to me, i can’t explain in words why that is, unfortunately

7. this one is kinda personal preference, but the creaking heart and the creaking’s eyes would be much better if it was a bright fully saturated red to contrast harder with the monochromatic palette

8. add overworld ambience like the water/nether ambience, but don’t add any to this biome on purpose to add to the “wrong” feeling.

9. someone pointed out on reddit the whole biome is monotone except the dirt, and another person suggested mud to go with the new pale moss and i second that, actually. maybe some deepslate boulders too, similar to the mossy ones in old growth taigas

10. another reddit comment said white pumpkins, that person is a genius. i second that too

i also want to give massive props to them changing the sky, grass, and water colors. i’ve been BEGGING for more biome variations in those ever since i installed william wythers expanded ecosphere mod. i’m very glad to see them doing more interesting things with biome colors :)

i also want to give props to them making an overworld fantasy biome that doesn’t feel too out of place there! tying it in with the dark forest was a good move for this too since giant mushrooms are also pretty fantasy, even if i’m a bit disappointed the trees just keep the dark oak shape

[dfastback68]

Failed to think up modern goth fam scenarios, but this one’s for @kacievvbbbb anyway because I do blame them for the concept of post-canon Mihawk’s Home for Displaced Pirates. (Building off of this fic)

Besides King, who else might wind up there? I don’t really know what’s going on with him in canon, but the answer is obvious: Moria! Perona’s already living on Kuraigana part time/most of the time, so eventually she’d drag her original adoptive dad there.

Of course she wouldn’t tell him it’s Mihawk’s island. Just that there’s this great spooky island with plenty of room and huge graveyards and she loves it and she knows he’ll love it, too. Moria doesn’t put it together that it’s Kuraigana until they’re already there. Perona has absolutely done this on purpose. He really should have seen it coming.

Mihawk isn’t thrilled but he doesn’t object. There’s plenty of room, after all (and he knows Perona will be insufferable if he said no). He does enforce pretty strict rules about fighting among the inhabitants. They can leave their past grievances behind if they want to stay here. No one really wants to mess with Mihawk (or Zoro when he's around).

The first few days go fine, but Perona has forgotten a very crucial aspect to the side of the castle Moria is living in: King. Objectively she knows Moria suffered a crushing defeat from Kaido, and that King was certainly by his side, but it’s not like it’s personal, right? There’s no fighting allowed on the castle grounds, except where training and sparring is permitted. Nothing could ever possibly go wrong.

It’s probably dumb luck that King and Moria don’t run into each other at first. Then one morning Moria walks into the study to find Perona and King in the middle of one of their hair braiding sessions, and all hell breaks loose.

Moria is shrieking, King is yelling, Perona is screaming. She’s never seen Moria so motivated to actively harm someone when it breaks out into an actual fight. Her negative hollows won’t work on them.  Moria simply cannot stand the sight of someone like King being anywhere near Perona. That’s his daughter!!!!

Mihawk has to break it up. Mihawk, all 6 foot something of him, getting between King and Moria, both 20 feet tall.  

He throws them outside and essentially puts them in time out. Perona is sobbing. Mihawk is seriously reconsidering this entire operation. Neither of them really have anywhere to go, though, so he has to think of consequences to quell this sort of behavior. Exactly what he’s been hoping to avoid.

I figure Mihawk’s brand of punishment is just manual labor, but most of the castle residents already pitch in with gardening and farming… so he probably puts them on kitchen duty together. It’s the one room best equipped to handle King’s flame if he gets pissed, and Moria hates doing any kind of menial work at all. 

Forcing them to peel potatoes and carrots and wash grapes (under Perona’s supervision) until they’re united in their anger against Mihawk instead of each other works pretty well, actually. Crisis averted.

(Also wondering if we should throw the Seraphim in there somewhere, too, since again Kuraigana is just a big chill island where they could maybe learn to be people and not live under scrutiny. And let King suffer a mental breakdown over them in privacy. Moria has no idea what to do with a kid murder robot version of himself. Perona treats them like her minions and then eventually like little siblings.)

[aboutcustardcreams]

Help me hold onto you

Summary: The Doctor takes you and Yaz to Nectoxia, a peculiar planet that serves as burial ground, with the purpose of giving you a harmless fright. However, things don’t go as planned. They never do. And this time, it could cost you dearly.

part two

part three

part four

When the Doctor mentioned she was going to take you somewhere that would give you the creeps, your mind hardly imagined something quite like this. You couldn’t help the shivers running through your spine, the air was humid and heavy that stuck to the skin, underneath your clothes. A thick fog clung to the ground, making it difficult for you to see where you were going. 

“Where are we?”

She turned to face you, a wide grin plastered on her lips, as if she had been expecting that, “Thought you never asked. This is Nectoxia, a planet that serves as a vast, endless, graveyard. There’s literally nothing else. No living forms– well, except for us. Eerily quiet. Dark. A tad creepy. It is creepy, isn’t it?” 

You couldn’t help the little grin that played out on your face, as she studied you with childlike curiosity. She indeed looked like one sometimes, a child, a bundle of energy you couldn’t help but feel drawn to. Her purpose was that of giving you a little fright, that’s why you landed there. She had been trying so hard and for days, to sneak up on you on the TARDIS, but unsuccessfully. So she thought of a change of scenery, nothing harmless per se, and who were you to deny her the opportunity to… fail again? You developed some sort of sixth sense when it came to the Doctor, meaning that you could always feel her presence. 

“It’s certainly a nice start, I’ll give you that,” you admitted, with a nod of your head. “Not scared yet, though.”  

She rubbed her hands together, “Right. Yet,” she echoed, “I can go with ‘yet’. Still plenty of time to scare you. Watch yourself,” she grinned, a playful glimmer lit up in her eyes.  

You let out a soft giggle and the Doctor felt a wave of warmth right in that moment, as she savored the sound of your voice, so genuine and melodious. 

On the other hand, Yaz was a bit unsure about all this. Unlike you, she did get scared, and quite easily. The Doctor never failed to tease her about it. Sometimes the two of you would team up against her, coming out of nowhere, crying out loud a ‘Booo!’, that funnily enough worked every single time. Yaz would squeal, bounce up and then drop miserably on her knees, struggling to catch her breath for a bunch of seconds. She would throw daggers at the two of you for that, flap at your arms, yet her smile would betray her not much after that, because despite the initial annoyance, Yaz enjoyed those moments. Deep down. Very deep down. At first she had been thrilled to have you back, considering how hard it was to scare you, but that place didn’t feel right. That thick fog for starters was making her feel uneasy. 

She picked up her pace, when noticing she was falling behind. You turned towards her, watching her carefully, as she catched up by your side, lightly brushing your arm, “Hey,” you muttered, playfully flapping at her, “Are you all right?” 

Your friend scrunched up her nose, “I guess. Nothing’s tried to kill me yet.”

You gave her an apologetic smile, then draped an arm across her shoulders to pull her closer. “There’s nobody here, except for us. The Doc said that, didn’t she?”

She scoffed, but leaned in your touch, “How many times does she say something like that that ultimately turns out to be untrue?” 

She indeed had a point. “Too many to count,” you chuckled softly, the sound of your voice catching the attention of the Doctor. She turned and frowned in her unique, adorable way,  before asking if everything was alright with you two. You gave a quick nod of your head, whereas Yaz flashed a thumb up, despite her lips pressed into a thin, forced smile. 

“Why don’t you pretend to be scared, so we can leave?” She leaned against you, hope in her tone. You swept your tongue over your lips, as you listened, quite amused, “I’ll give you ten bucks, no wait, twenty,” her tone so serious you hardly could hold back a laugh. 

“Yasmin Khan!” The Doctor spun around, a crease between her brows. “Are you seriously bribing her right now? You’re supposed to be a police officer!”

She groaned and rolled her eyes, “Former police officer,” she pointed out, considering she stopped showing up at work for ages now, meaning that she wasn’t sure she still had the job. 

You giggled softly,  and reached up to her to place a hand on her forearm, “Relax you, I’m not yielding to such frilly temptations. The temptation to watch you fail again has no price,” your eyes gleamed with mischievousness. 

“We will see about that, stardust,” she kept your gaze, a grin stretching from ear to ear. Her demeanor showed you she was so sure to succeed this time, you almost believed she would. But only for a brief second. It was the Doctor you were talking about. “Ten points for you, by the way, for your impeccable integrity. Yaz, you’re falling behind.” 

She frowned, “I almost don’t want to ask but… fall behind what?” 

The Doctor continued on walking, closer to the two of you, the hems of her sweeping coat disappearing into the thick fog at your feet. “I’m keeping a mental ranking of the points you’ve collected.” 

Yaz could hardly stifle an annoyed groan. “You give her random points all the time! How can I top that?”

The Doctor feigned a look of horror, “I do not! I’m impartial!”, she met your gaze then, as to be met with your support, “Am I?” 

You hesitated and rubbed the back of your head. “Well– most of the time.” 

It wasn’t a secret you and the Doctor had a peculiar bond. A unique relationship, you’d describe it. She was your friend, your best friend, and probably even  more than that. In your heart, she was the Universe, in every sense of the word. 

Yaz crossed her arms over her chest, and the Doctor dismissed the topic with a light flip of her hand. “Come on now– we should carry on. There’s loads to see.”

“You mean loads of vaults and tombstones?” echoed Yaz, with a grimace. 

“I know you’re scared, but don’t make it so obvious,” you teased, still grinning. The former police officer shot you an indignant look, before playfully shoving you, making you stumble a couple of feet away from her. “Oi! Rude!” 

It was her turn to grin. 

The Doctor scolded lightly, “you two remember our number one rule, alright?  Stay close to each other and don’t wander off.” 

“I thought you said it wasn’t dangerous,” came from a very alarmed Yaz. 

“And I still think that,” she repeated. “But I doubt you’d enjoy getting lost in a cemetery as wide as this.”

You chuckled when Yaz swallowed thickly in response, “I’m not fond of the idea, no.” 

“Come on, little chickens,” you teased playfully, sprunting forward just enough to pass both Yaz and the Doctor. 

The Time Lady slightly shook her head at your antics. It was going to be harder than she initially predicted to have you admit you were even remotely spooked. Even so often you’d glance over your shoulder, your eyes meeting her hazel ones, and you’d smile. Every time you did that, the Time Lady couldn’t help but feel her stomach twist and turn funnily. It was ridiculous, the intensity of it. Of this… pull she felt towards you. She thought to tell you more than once, take your hand and confess all the crazy things she felt for you. 

And maybe someday, she’d have. 

As you three continued walking through the tombs, you brushed off some dust and dirt covering the inscriptions here and there. Why was there no flower to embellish the gravestones? Not even dried ones, to let you believe someone had been there before you. 

“All these people and nobody honoring their memory,” you mumbled, feeling sorry for them. “How did they even end up here?” 

The Doctor was pulled from her thoughts. She blinked, “there’s a Soulspire somewhere around here. It’s a gateway that links Nectoxia to Vitareon, a planet full of life, totally opposite to this one.” 

“So people spend their lives on Vitareon and when they die, they move here through some sort of portal?”, asked Yaz. 

“It sums it up, yeah.”

You still weren’t convinced. “It doesn’t explain why there’s nobody alive to visit their loved ones. It seems nobody has set foot in here for years. Is it supposed to be this way?”

“Hmm, now that you point it out, no, not really. There must be something impeding those from Vitareon to pass through,” she reasoned, frowning slightly, as she always does when there’s a new mystery that needs to be solved. “Maybe the portal needs maintenance. I’m good at maintenance, me. Once I built a sonic screwdriver out of a bunch of dry leaves, an old phone charger, chicken poop and a biscuit.” 

“A biscuit?”

“Chicken poop?” 

Both you and Yaz questioned at the same time. 

“Double yes,” the Doctor nodded, with a cheeky grin. “Why so surprised? It’s no secret I love biscuits,” she shrugged nonchalantly. “Needed some sugar while working. And as for the chicken poop, you’d be surprised how many things it activates.” 

You and Yaz exchanged a look. 

“Oh, don’t you love a good mystery?” The Time Lady sighed, scanning a couple of random tombs, in search of who knows what. “Cause, I do. So much. Especially if it’s a creepy one. Two birds with one stone.”

You hummed amusedly, finding it funny how she still thought she could scare you in such a desolate place. 

“Doc, can’t you just admit your defeat?” Yaz complained, lolling her head backwards. “She isn’t scared, at all. If anything, I’d say she is enjoying it way too much.”

You chuckled, slightly shaking your head, “Now Yaz, that would be insensitive of me, all things considered. But I’m definitely enjoying how scared you are. Not that it’s a surprise.”

“I hate you,” she hissed.

You reached up and clung to her arm, “I love you too.”

After, you pointed a finger at the Doctor, so engrossed in examining every inch of the planet, and to talk to herself– Maybe not to herself, you did miss a couple of her sentences along the way. When the Doctor was excited she rambled, and when she rambled, she could go on and on, passing from one thing to another. 

“Look how eager she is to solve this. How can you deny her a single thing?” 

Yaz sighed in defeat, humming, “I know that. It’s just–”, a pause and you turned towards her, her face dimmed a bit, “I really have a bad feeling about this place. And I’m not saying that just because it’s full of gravestones and it smells like, well, death…”

Before you could say anything else to try and reassure your friend, the Doctor stepped in rather excitedly. “I think I detected the Soulspire, well the sonic did. Should be right up that hill! A small walk. Probably medium-length actually,” she said in one breath. 

“Define medium-length…” Yaz muttered, squinting her eyes. 

You chuckled when the Doctor simply shrugged at that. You spotted an amused grin plastered on her face, as proof that she was clearly enjoying this. 

Yaz whined. “Doctor!” 

“Less talking, more footing. Come on, come on, come one-!” 

[dummie-writes]

the party walkers

self insert ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* school bus graveyard

words: 4.08k

previous part: a demon inside of my skin

next part: over the horizon, somewhere

note: woah hey I'm back so soon whattt, anyway. sorry that chapter was kinda more scene setting, we only got to interact with the group at the very end 😭 also, I'd like to say this is gonna be pretty self indulgent for the time being bc idk where I want the story to go 🧍‍♀️keep in mind that while I'm trying to keep it gender neutral, at times y/n may lean more feminine,and this is because I am more feminine. please enjoy :3

ii. a rescue mission

again, there's a tension. there has been for the past minute you've been sitting here. after telling them your name and settling down cross legged on the classroom floor, you kinda expected some questions or something. that blonde kid and ashlyn are still having that weird little staring contest. it's as if everyone wants to start, but no one knows how. like you've passed a test, but they aren't sure if you'll actually pass their little assignment or whatever. you were having nightmares, and eerily, the blonde knew to ask you about them even when you hadn't said you'd been having them. so, they were also having nightmares. at least, from what you could infer. 

“um, okay,” a sandy brunette boy with glasses begins. he's not looking directly at you, but instead at your bag beside you in a spaced out manner, his thumbs tapping the wooden pencil in his hand. “nightmares, monsters, right? what kind of monsters?”

     “like, gray ones? they're kinda big? sharp hands?” you say, still somewhat confused. a robotic voice comes from next to you, and as you turn your head, the tallest of the group has his phone held up, the screen facing you. on it, in black lettering, it asks “humanish?”. you blink, and then nod at it. not much of a talker, apparently. the girl who originally spoke to you, sitting next to Tyler and who you've quickly remembered is his twin sister, though you don't remember her name from the beginning of the year, opens her mouth to speak, but then ashlyn cuts her off. 

     “well, that's weird. what notes do you have on savannah?”

     a second of slight whiplash from the subject change, everyone (except for tyler) gives the freckled girl a weird look. they hadn't expected it either, but they aren't going to interfere. she has a colder tone - not entirely mean, but like she knows how to stick to decisions that she makes. actually, you'd seen her before - this town wasn't where you grew up, but you'd been here since middle school. ashlyn always kept to herself, for what rare times you did see her. the only words that you'd really ever heard from her were “excuse me” “thanks” or just glowering. you didn't know when she got all these friends. 

     you also had friends - unfortunately, they weren't really happy with you at the moment. with the whole “several hours or so in hell” situation, you hadn't really been the greatest companion. one too many times had you had to stay home from a group putting, or just slept straight through. they had a right to be upset with you, especially when you wouldn't communicate and were crabby. 

     “again, not really my fault! what am I supposed to tell them? that I'm bleeding out in the bathroom all night?” but, you know, whatever. 

     you pulled out your notebook, reading through the few notes you had written down since the start of the group project. you wouldn't argue right now. maybe they were just weird, maybe they were all in the same boiling pot you were. either way, the six of them didn't seem open to talking about it, which means another lonely night in the bathroom for you. 

     not for them, though. as you tried to be as quiet as possible on the cold, tiled floor, and then moving to the shower so the blood from your back would trickle down the drain instead, they would have a rather rambunctious evening. 

     “tyler, seriously. if they're here too, we need to get them!”

     “that isn't a risk we should be taking!”

     ash cringed just slightly at the volume of tyler's voice, and picked at the peeling fabric of the bus seat she was in. this argument had been going on for about an hour, stopping them from any sort of progress in terms of supplies, information, or anything, really. aiden was seated in the seat across from herself, foot dangling as he rhythmically tapped the seat, smiling as he usually did. his red eyes swung back and forth between the aggressors, not saying much except for the offhand comment or joke. 

     “guys, what if it was one of us? what if it was taylor?”

     “fields, don't even think about using that kind of an argument. it's cheap, and that's my sister. not a random classmate - who, by the way, might not actually even be here! they could just be having bad dreams! but, no, i’m the crazy one, right?”

    ben shifted uncomfortably, tensing and releasing his fists. tyler was defensive, that much was for sure. truth be told, he in fact did not actually like the idea of possibility leaving you stranded somewhere. it wasn't moral. but he was right, he knew he was right. they didn't have the actual information needed, the possibile required resources, and he wouldn't put taylor in any sort of unnecessary danger like that. not when you lived almost four blocks away from where they already were. despite not saying so, ashlyn agreed almost entirely. she wouldn't lose her entire team saving one person. at the very least, not until they were positive you were actually I'm this other dimension. 

     “remind me again why we didn't just ask them if they were here?” aiden questions, his cheeks rising a little as he stared at tyler in an almost dare to reply. 

     “we won't even tell our parents what's going on. if they're just having nightmares, they'll think we're crazy or on drugs. and in that case, who knows what they'll tell the school, or the police,” ash replies in an even tone, raising an eyebrow as her eyes meet aiden's, and then to taylor as she speaks again. 

     “but it isn't right. you know it's not right. and there was that unexplained scream you heard at the hotel, ash,” taylor points out, throwing her arms out as she paces back and forth. her hair was starting to tangle from all the moment, and a stern look in her eyes told everyone this isn't something she would let go of. at least not thus far. 

     ashlyn sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose and looking down. a quiet pooled in the bus as the ginger thought through the possibilities and risks. taylor was right. they couldn't just leave you wherever you were to rot, possibly die. even if she wasn't a people person, she wasn't a monster. she couldn't let any phantoms hurt you or anyone else in good spirits, that would just be horrible and wrong. she knew tyler wouldn't mind getting you either, if it wasn't such a huge risk, and a major liability if you actually weren't there. 

 

   a small glow emitted from a couple feet away from her, looking up to Ben's phone screen as her hand slid to hold up her head. “we need more info”.

     logan tapped his foot tentatively, his face soft but unagreeable. he had been making a more logical argument, but was emotion driven nonetheless in his words. having another person would be an advantage. it would come with its own challenges, yes - explaining why they had another person hanging out with them to ashlyn's already suspicious parents, keeping track of an entire other human being, the extra general supplies - but having another person who wasn't a phantom on their side was also a benefit. another pair of eyes, hands, ears. more supplies could be carried. 

     not to mention, you are not just a video game character. you're an actual human being, with a life, with sentience. in the end, that's the defining factor. they can't abandon you. but they won't come looking for you without being sure you'll be there when they search. 

     “this is a stupid argument because we aren't actually arguing about saving them, but about when.” 

     taylor looks up to ash, lightening from how upset she was previously, and her shoulders beginning to drop. an unspoken understanding passes through them as everyone else mumbles something of agreement. 

     “and how the hell are we supposed to pull that off? do any of you even have their phone number? we didn't add them to any group chats because we were still in our own world when class ended,” tyler huffed, crossing his arms and leaning back into his chair, a sour expression in the creases of his face and eyebrows. 

     “I could run over there,” 

     everyone stared at Aiden for a second as he smiles in excitement before tyler thwacks him in the back of the head. not hard, but audibly. aiden’s mouth opens slightly, his smile unwavering but now wider as he scoffs in hubris.. “that's not happening, you moron.”

     that next morning is a hard one for you. for one, trying to clean that horrible slash with isopropyl alcohol isn't working. it's making things worse, in fact; the flesh around it is red and dry, it throbs when you move too much, and every so often, it'll crack further down your back because you moved too quickly. not to mention, it hurts like a bitch when you do so. not cleaning it runs the risk of infection, but honestly, you're too exhausted to care anymore. your mind is messed up, clearly. talking to a psychologist isn't an option, you'd get put in an asylum before you could finish your sentence. this was just your life now. and you would properly clean it later. 

     walking into class, you felt the jab of a finger at your back. jumping, you turn around to give a dirty look at whoever was giving you a difficult time, before realizing that it was aiden, from your group project. you take a breath and smile. “hey, how are you?”

     despite it being a very normal question that usually results in a “im fine”, aiden clark is not a normal person (to be fair, you aren't at this point either), and answers with a much more winded explanation. 

     “oh! I'm doing pretty great, haha. last night's homework wasn't all too difficult or anything, and since you're having trouble with your work, you can copy off mine if you'd like. speaking of last night, how'd you sleep? you know, with sleeping issues and everything? sorry about my friends yesterday, they can be a bit argumentative. it think it's funny lol.”

     at this point, ben, who you remember now as being introduced as aiden's cousin and is walking behind, looks at you, nodding and giving a small wave. you, in return, smile widely at him. 

     “well, aren't you just a ray of fucking sunshine or something,” you hear an irritated, grumpy voice from next to you, and then a yelp, followed by “ow! don't pinch me!” and a “then be nice!”

     turning to taylor and tyler, the long haired of the two smiles in a nervous apology. “sorry, he's always kinda cranky in the morning. he didn't mean that, I swear.” as taylor tucks a piece of hair behind her ear and chuckles softly, you notice she has a soft sparkle in her eye. that, and the fact that she has been nothing but kind to you in the entirety of the while you've interacted with th pushes her to be your favorite for the time being. 

     “it's okay, i'm not all too great for the first couple hours too. coffee helps, would you like some? do you have a cup or something?” you're being a little over-nice on purpose, mainly to make him feel bad for being a bit of an ass- but it's a genuine offer. he wasn't downright cruel, just a little mean. and the eye bags on top of his cheeks tell you that taylor wasn't lying about him not being a morning person. 

     tyler scowls, wrinkling his nose and glancing at the thermos you have on your desk. it's your favorite color, and the metal is warm with the creamy, light brown coffee inside. for a second, his face drops a little, and he looks like he's genuinely considering your offer, before rolling his eyes scoffing. “I'm good.”

     rough start for a group that hasn't entirely accepted you as part of their project, but he didn't cuss you out a throw a shoe at you, so you'll count it as a win! you don't have much time to process, because you turn your head again and jump at the bright write paper, half an inch from your face. holding it is a pale hand, and connected to that hand is aiden, wide eyed. actually, that might just be his face. you're starting to think he looks like that more than he doesn't. oh, yeah, actually, that's the homework he was talking about. you had only gotten a couple questions done last night before giving up, and trying to comfort yourself with hot chocolate before midnight arrived. 

     aiden was still looking at you expectantly, so you gingerly pinched the paper, smiling at him again as you took out your own unfinished work, and compared them side by side so you could at least not down most of them before mr. thomas got to class. as you did so, a bright yellow post-it note caught your attention, and in messy handwriting, it reads:

     “what are your nightmares about????”

     your eyebrows knit themselves, and glancing up at aiden, he's already looking at you. he turned away to talk to ben about something almost immediately, but it makes you wonder if he knows something you don't. you peel it off, filling out a few of the questions before glancing at the note again, and flipping it over to scrawl down your response of “why do you want to know so badly”. instead of a blank back, you find a phone number, which you can only theorize belongs to aiden. snatching up your phone, you pat the number in, and then hurry to finish what of the homework you can. after filling out what you think will get you a passing grade, you roll up the work and tap the blond on the shoulder with it. 

     he stops mid sentence to turn toward you, smile widely, take his homework back, and then continues talking to ben. all just as mr. thomas walks through the classroom door.

     actually, the fact that he gave you that post it note makes you giggle a little. it looks like an ad for a psychic. you nonchalantly doodle and scribble on your paper during the lecture, nearly falling asleep a couple times before you're all dismissed to sit in groups. you pause for a moment, glancing to your old group. brandy looks in your direction, smiling and standing up to walk over. oh wait what no don't -

     “hey! listen, so, about yesterday,” she whispered speedily, a note book in her right hand, tapping her pen on the cover with her left. you purse your mouth, nodding. awkward. “I'm sorry if I was being mean. I failed this class last year, and I can't repeat it again. I know that's harsh, but I'm not taking any chances.”

     a silent, uncomfortable nod and pause later, she continues. “I copied down a bunch of my notes for you, because I hope you can still pass. I'm sorry if I made you mad. I'll just, go, um, yeah.”

     a second later, you're holding a few pieces of lined paper to your chest and watching her run off and back to her group. a sinkhole opens in your chest, and you bite the inside of your cheek. would ashlyn's group be expecting you? would they talk to the teacher about getting you removed too, since they might not have wanted to fail as terribly as they already were? your eyes find their circle, where three pairs of eyes are looking to yourself, and there's a large enough gap by taylor's seat for your own. 

a soft grin presses onto your cheeks, relief emanating from you when you sigh, grabbing your chair to haul it over. at least you had a solid group for your project now, even if it was going to fall apart. and, even if your group members were a tad, let's say, bold in how long they stared at you for. not in an entirely creepy way, but in a puzzled way, like you were something to be figured out. 

     “um, he gave you his phone number, right?” logan confirmed, pushing his glasses up his nose with his index finger while he spoke. after the glint from the ceiling light left his glasses, you realized his eyes weren't entirely blue, but had a twinge of turquoise to them. or aqua. something like that, either way, they weren't a strict blue. you acknowledge his question by pulling your phone from out of your jean pocket, shaking it a little. “yep, it's all right here.”

     “good! be-”

     “we have something we should really talk about with you. a few questions.”

     “oh my fucking - you're making it sound like we're a cult.”

     “aren't we kinda?? at this point lmao??”

     “aiden, you're not helping.”

     “excuse me?” your features are slightly scrunched in both confusion and amusement - you're assuming this has something to do with the whole weird “what's in your nightmares” note, and on its own this exchange might actually kinda freak you out. but the way tyler looks like he's about to pop a vein has you beaming and nearly laughing. not to mention, aiden is just kinda, weird. a bit creepy too, but mostly weird. 

     “hey idiots, shut up! it was your guys’ decision to do it this way, and now you won't even talk with them about it properly!” tyler gives everyone a dirty look, noticeably glancing at ben and then not glaring at him. ben has a flat expression, and just glances at aiden, who is already chuckling to himself and looking back at him. 

     “ahem,” ashlyn clears her throat, pointing her eyes at you. as you turn to face her back, tyler huffs, crossing his arms and sitting back in his seat, glaring daggers at you even though you. haven't actually done anything. “so, these nightmares.”

     it's interesting that she's the one to bring this all to a head, after specifically dodging the subject yesterday in class. 

     “tell me about them.”

     when she puts it like that, it feels a lot more individual. you haven't really talked a whole bunch to ashlyn banner, even when you guys have been paired together. she was sorta… floaty. 

     “well, uh, what do you want to know?” you feel stupid for asking, but they were the ones who put you on the spot. and who are also glaring down at you, mostly in a friendly way. you think, at least. it's starting to get a bit stuffy. 

     “what color are the skies?” 

     “kinda, red. typically. but I feel like that's sort of normal. for nightmares.”

     this was weird. this was so entirely strange, actually. maybe you were too sleep deprived to actually notice, but the fact that they're dissecting you like a bug isn't normal. especially when they keep sharing glances like that! 

     “okay, hold on. what's going on? I think I should get to know why you guys are trying to scoop my soul apart with your eyes or something,” you stab a dirty look at tyler, who rolls his eyes and looks away. the rest kinda lose their gaze, sights now wandering the classroom- of course, this is excepting aiden, who's still staring at you. oh well. you kinda expected that at this point. 

     ashlyn gives a low sigh, clenching her teeth together and crossing her arms. her fingers tap on her jacket, and aiden leans over to smoosh himself into her shoulder- which she seems irritated by, but doesn't do anything to push him off because he starts speaking. 

     “I don't think we're getting anywhere with guessing games guys.” his eyelids are low, and he puts his hands behind his head, crossing his legs to put them on ben's lap like he's relaxing. that's when ash gives him a hard shove with her other arm, and he lands swiftly on the floor, drawing a giggle out of taylor. “hey! I'm right! don't push me :(.”

     “I hate to say it, but we might need to be just straightforward here,” tyler interjected, glancing at ash. “that's not a good idea, wh-”

     “hello! hi! I'm still here!” you interrupt, your palms facing upward out you wave your arms around. disbelief crosses your face, and you're about to laugh because, what the fuck? what do they know, and what are they not telling you - and why are they being so rude about it! “I would appreciate someone being straightforward with me! actually! if my opinion matters at all here!”

     “of course it matters!” taylor responds almost immediately, her shoulders dropping and her eyes becoming soft. ben stops for a second, signing “yes” in consensus. for the first time, logan speaks up, his words muddled together too quickly for you to understand for a second. 

     “yeah okay so theresthislike alternative dimensions thingandwedontactuallyknow what'sgoingonbutwould youhappentoknowhatwe're talkingabou-”

     “dude, breathe, what the fuck,” you answer, eyebrows tilted in more concern than anything else. while logan wasn't the type to talk so quickly he didn't enunciate his sentences, he didn't want to be stopped by any of the group - specifically tyler, who, surprise, you'll never guess, was glaring at him. 

    

     “... did you say alternate dimension?”

     “yeah lol.”

     “and what exactly does he mean by that?”

     “exactly what i, um, said. there's a shift, it starts at midnight, and we're there for seven hours. only seven minutes actually pass, but, uh, no one actually gets any sleep at that point.”

     that is… exactly what your little nightmare issue sounds like. 

     “the red skies, the phantoms-” who you're assuming are those demon things. “-they all match with our little, uh, nightly problem. the only thing that doesn't match up is how on earth you're there too. we know what caused us falling through - but why are you there?” logan asks, and the more he talks, especially about something he knows, the more he seems less shy. tentative, sure, but more confident in his words. it makes your heart drop into the pit of your stomach. 

     if he's serious about this, maybe they aren't playing some joke on you- which was already unlikely, but you've gotta cope somehow. if there are who knows how many other people in that little hell hole of an evening, then it isn't only you that you need to worry about, and you can't just hole up in the bathroom if there are others too. 

     “when did you start going?” aiden asks, poking you in the back again so you turn to him. 

     “that night at the hotel after the field trip.”

     “hmmm. anything weird happen?”

     “i mean, I went with my group. and I was kinda lagging behind and got tossed up with another group who was touring some haunted house because the lady thought I was with them.”

     “... what house?”

     “ummmm, seed house? something weird like that? ‘s’ somethi-”

     “the sorrel weed house. “

     that time, ashlyn didn't ask, but stated. it was a ghost of her usual, stronger tone. 

    

     “you must have gotten tossed up with our group.”

     the cold bathroom tile that you sat on was uncomfortable when you awoke that night, but the air was chilled with excitement. you were getting busted out. you'd have to do the more difficult part of maneuvering out of the house with what ashlyn and her group called “phantoms”, as well as trying to grab some stuff on your way out. blankets, first aid supplies, food, bags- anything you could really get your hands on. but escape was everyone's first priority. which is why your ear is pressed so hard to the cheap wooden door, and your breathing is as quiet as you can force it to be. you're listening for footsteps. or tapping. or whatever other noises might hint to otherworldly existence. 

     you hadn't been out of this bathroom in your entire time here. had you been hungry? yeah. but… what else were you supposed to do? you didn't exactly have a group to watch your back while you grabbed a lunchable from the kitchen. 

     nothing. nothing for the past ten minutes. the others should be here in about twenty. that's how long you have. so, with that in mind, you focus on your first location: your bedroom, where your phone, backpack, and blankets were. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

that's right, get part 1'd. hope you enjoyed

next part: over the horizon, somewhere