#holy water cannot help you now

[yvonne-rutherford]

Holy Water Cannot Help You Now

Location: Burj Khalifa

Day 1 into Day 2 of the party

Mentions: @cassandra-acton

Yvonne sat on the edge of the bed, staring down at the phone in her hand. The screen was lit up with Cassie Acton's contact information and all she had to do was hit dial. So why was she frozen like a damn deer in the headlights? From the moment Félix propositioned her, she had clarity on the path forward, a luxury that had eluded her for years. 

If she was being honest with herself, deep down in the part of her brain she was trying to ignore, she knew the real reason she was frozen. Once she made this call, there was no turning back. This was betraying her family, betraying her father, the man she'd wanted nothing more than to impress for her entire life. But, she had to look out for herself and for Maddie's future. Besides, what loyalty did she owe Andrew Rutherford? He was the one responsible for so much of this mess, wasn't he? He was the ones who brought the Russians to London, and that made him at least partially responsible for Amir's death, right? The bitter lump lodged in her heart that was only growing by the day mused that maybe this would finally get his attention on her.

The shower stopped and Yvonne knew it was now or never. If she didn't make this call now there was no telling if the courage would remain the next time she had a moment to herself. Standing up, she walked over to the half empty bottle of whiskey sitting on the table, took a swig straight from the bottle, and hit thee call icon before she could chicken out.

"Hey, Cassie. I want to talk when I get back from Dubai. It's about….well, everything I know about my family. My schedule is wide open so just, let me know when you're free. Thanks."

Her hands were shaking as she hung up and tossed her phone back onto the hotel bed. It was a miracle she could keep them steady enough to pour herself a glass and down it in one go, just in time for Félix to walk put of the bathroom, his shirt still unbuttoned and a look of genuine concern on his face.

"Is everything okay?" His voice was level as he walked towards her. When he was in arms reach, Yvonne wrapped her arms around the back of his neck and leaned up on her toes to press a kiss to his lips.

"Yeah, I just had to make a phone call. Now, where were we?"

[the-boy-king-rp-multi]

I'm centered around MCU Matt's portrayal BUT I do write him having the pale, translucent blue eyes and red hair but a bit longer and this is what I see when I write him;

[sunlessea]

FINALLY. AT LONG LAST. GODS TAG DROP. FREE ME.

[merrilark]

ough. i wish i had the energy to do animatics like i did in college, or a program that could make nice gifsets with text overlays, because man oh man "seven devils" by florence + the machine would make such a good song for bj.

[sendsummon]

"𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘧 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦, 𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘢 𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘥𝘰 𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘶𝘯𝘵."

[aeturnumnsyt]

Hello everyone! It’s been a long time, hasn’t it? Life hit me pretty hard a few years back, and while I tried to keep up writing through it all. it proved to be too much and I had to step away. But I’m back now, in a much better place in life where things are just looking better and better for me. 

My love for these muses and the fun I had writing them with everyone has brought me back here, and I look forward to finding new writing partners, as well as rekindling with any old ones that would be willing to take me back!

I will be going around tossing some ask memes into peoples inboxes, as well as reblogging some of my own if anyone wishes to start up an interaction with any of my boys!

[pastdied]

tag drop part two.

[san8ny]

can you pls write nerdy ellie? it can be sfw or nsfw

HOT! HOT!

?: Ellie is alot of things: She’s well articulated, She’s liked around campus, but for the life of her, she cannot get laid. It’s gotten pretty embarrassing, maybe you can help? - NSFW - Excuse me for any spell checks!

!: My mutuals have really yummy fics about nerd!Ellie so please let me know if you’d like any recommendations. - Thank you for your anon, means sm to me baby

You stare at her with an incredulous expression, the sight alone being one of pure unbridled shock upon this new-found discovery.

“Never?”

“Never.”

She reaffirms after you, running a nervous hand through her auburn tresses to ease the silent tension in the air. Ellie Williams, all around “good at fucking anything,” is a virgin. The thought alone was something that poked curiosity and incredulity. You knew she was quite kept to herself, often times busying with books and videogames, but this was something you didn’t expect. I mean, she was with Dina at one point.

You don’t want to make her make her more uncomfortable than the topic is, so you give her some form of comfort; “It’s quite normal, honestly, I don’t even blame you in this society.”

That earns you a laugh and a slight snort from her, throwing her head slightly back. “Yeah?”

You return a chuckle, shrugging, “Yeah, but you’ve atleast kissed before, right?

She immediately quiets down, olive-toned cheeks flushing with a light wash of embarrassment.

Holy fuck.

If you weren’t shocked before, you were gawking now.

“D-don’t look at me like that, man..” She groans, tossing her glasses onto the coffee table as she buries her face in a nearby decorative throw-pillow. “No, no— I don’t mean in a bad way, just surprised.”

“Surprised?” She murmurs softly, staring at the dim dorm lightbulb that hangs above them, “That’s a first. Dina usually calls me forcibly celibate.”

You want to curse yourself at the noise you let out, eyes watering as you slap your mouth with a cupped palm. Ellie side-eyes you with a scoff as she gets up from her seat, “Yeah, Yeah, Alright—“

“I’ll be serious! I promise.” You call out, reaching for her wrist to sit her back down, to which she does.

“Have you ever, like, considered it, though?”

Her interest piques at this turn, reaching for her glasses back, “What? Having sex?”

Well, duh.

Ellie hums, thinking about it for a second, “I wouldn’t be opposed to it..” She trails off, wiping her lenses with the corner of her graphic-tee, before putting them on. “Only to someone I really like.”

“Aw, that’s actually really sweet, I actually had a friend once who—

“Which is why I want you to fuck me.” She bluntly puts, staring at you four-eyed.

. . .

“Come again?” You cock your head out, “You want me to..?”

She inches forward, nodding like a bobblehead, “Yeah! It makes sense. You’re my friend, and I like you, so it’ll work.” You sigh, shaking your head, “Ells, it doesn’t work like that. What if you regret it?”

“So you’d agree to it if I don’t regret it?” She smiles, tone a bit ecstatic as she sees you entertain the idea.

She really was putting you on the spot, huh?

You stare at her for a bit, studying her face. She seemed enthusiastic about getting the opportunity to even lay hands on your soft skin. Saying you were pretty was an understatement, you were the epitome of wet-dreams; She was head over heels pretty much in-love with you, and the idea of even losing such a prize position like her virginity to you symbolized things she could only dream about.

You roll your eyes as you both kneel on her mattress, her fiddling with your bra like it’s the most complicated thing. “This shit is a death machine, holy smokes.”

Holy smokes?

When she finally succeeds, she’s jittery and giggling to herself, scooting back into the pillows to get a good look at your beautiful breasts. “They’re so fucking hot, ohmygod..” Next thing you know, she’s cupping them softly, kneading the fleshy dough in circular motions, gaze fixed on the way your back arches ever so slightly, eyes fluttering. So she is doing something, right?

She leans her head down, giving your perked areolas experimental licks, opting to suckle them when you give her the green. Your hand finds itself buried in her hair, massaging her tender scalp while she works her tongue on your sensitive buds, closing her own eyes at the pure idea she might be making you feel good.

After a while, you pull her off your tits, pushing her down onto the sheets as she looks at you confused. Poor baby doesn’t understand sex is transactional because she’s too busy giving you her all. You smile softly, leaning over her, legs on each side of her torso as you give her a kiss on the lips, the brief ‘smooch’ sound music to her ears as she opens her heavy lidded eyes back again; they’re filled with neediness, a surge of wanting to be touched more.

By the time you’ve readied her for the real thing, littering her body in soft bruising marks, her voice slightly higher pitched with each ‘uhn!’ she lets out, brows scrunched together and lips slightly ajar, coated in a sheen of saliva from how you kiss her with reassurance you’ll take care of her— she’s telling you with pants, no, begging— “P-please, baby? ‘Can’t take it anymore..”

She means her bottoms, fabric cruely soaked and covered in her own arousal from all the attention you’ve been giving her; Ellie feels lightheaded, tears brimming her crinkled eyes when you thumb her through her boxers. However, words cannot explain the feeling that rushes through her when you lean down and lick a fat strip through the cloth, eyes locked on hers. She hiccups a gasp, shuddering as the cold air hits her mound when you pull the elastic band from the side.

“I wanted to eat it through it, but I think you’re a bit impatient for that, so i’ll cut to what you want.” You whisper, warm breath fanning over her sensitive pussy. By the time you dig in, she’s whining at volumes you literally need to reach up her torso and cover her mouth.

“Uhn! Uhn—! F-fuck—?”

What sorcery did you have on her? Genuinely? She can’t believe she’s been withholding herself from such pleasure, your tongue trudging through her gummy folds making her want to die and come back again. She can barely even think straight, letting out muffled wails against your hand, saliva seeping through and rolling down your wrist in dribbles. You’d be disgusted, but the sight alone boosts your ego, you had her whipped.

Was it mentioned she’s already orgasmed before you even went near her cunt? That’s right, she already came once while you two were kissing. You definitely knew she’d atleast finish early, but damn were you surprised when she shook against you, humming against your lips rhythmatically.

“Am I making you feel good, baby? Can you talk f’me?”

She could barely hear you, and here you were, asking damn questions. Nonetheless, she gives you a small huff in response; alluding that she was somewhat conscious.

Once you deliver her to cum, she’s shivering against the sheets, balling her fists up as you rip both a cry, and orgasm out of her. “A-Ahnnnn..?!.”

Rest of the night, you two went at it like animals; Ellie insisting you teach her everything there was to know about sex in a singular sitting— ..fucking? To say you both tired eachother out would be an underemphasis.

You ruined her.

When you both seemingly knock out, well, atleast you, she slowly sits up, biting her bottom lip in anticipation as she gazes around your naked body, you were gonna sleep over..

She seems more excited at the prospect you’ll stay the night than the fact you two have been literally keeping the entire female dormitory quarters up— likely going to be hit with a personal visit by the RA.

Who cares, not Ellie for sure. She’ll happily flaunt the fact she’s (finally) got some, just to show off.

God, was she a geek.

[neversith]

Master Skywalker your apprentice Ahsoka and Galen both use two lightsabers. if you trained a third you think that would happen again?

"Who is this Galen and why does everyone keep asking me about him? Also, I have another apprentice. Well, two apprentices. Not how typically being a Jedi works but there's not a lot of left anymore and someone needs to train my children. It might as well be me." Plus, Ahsoka is busy with her missions as Fulcrum and he has no idea where Obi Wan has gone off to again. It is how he has been training them since joining the Rebellion years ago. "Also, I never reached the rank of master. Technically, I am still a Jedi knight."

[ineffableigh]

Wait what the hell is Aziraphale mouthing here. Lip-readers sound off!!

This is RIGHT before "The Metatron! I don't think he's as bad a fellow - well I think I might have misjudged him."

His line was: "I, um... [mouthing something]" THEN the above line.

This can't be nothing. Can it? "We need to get out"??? Not sure. EDIT: I agree with @maximumpenguinpuppy here, I think he's saying

"WE NEED HELP."

Further deep dive on the most painful conversation I've ever seen:

Azi makes the most INTENSE EYE CONTACT I'VE EVER SEEN during "I think I might have misjudged him."

"PLEASE HEAR WHAT I AM SAYING TO YOU RIGHT NOW."

After a few intercuts with the flashbacks we get to the really painful bit.

"He said that I could appoint you... to be an angel." His voice is so strained and high pitched even for him, here.

"Like the old times, only even NICER!"

The super nice old times where you couldn't be together at all, eh?

Crowley starts his confession and we get the "What the blazes is he doing?" face as he starts to realize Crowley is NOT picking up on any of this. Azi's breathing heavily here, revealing how very stressed the fuck out he is.

After this point is when things get really hard to interpret. Aziraphale sounds so genuine about "Come with me!" and "We can make a difference, I'll run it and you'll be my second in command." It feels like Crowley starting his very real confession broke through the charade of 'The Metatron knows something and we're in fucking danger'.

He blathers about Angels and Doing Good before breaking again, letting the "I need you!" slip. We get this HALF A SECOND look of the most profound sadness right before the "I don't think you understand what I'm offering you."

"You idiot. We could have been us."

Azi looks like he can't believe just how badly this went. This is right before he looks away.

OH NO NOW I'VE SEEN CROWLEY'S FACE RIGHT WHEN HE STARTS TO GO OVER FOR THE KISS AH MY FEELS

Azi is not hiding his emotions well, right before the grab:

Then of course we get the I Forgive You, which sounds like his most bitter one yet. A flash of anger and resentment, frustration, immediately followed by remorse and grief.

Having seen all that, my best guess now is:

Metatron made the (barely) veiled De Facto Partnership threats, implying he knows about the body swap and, implicitly, threatening Crowley with Holy Water, at least to some extent.

Aziraphale tries his damnedest to communicate to Crowley that Something is Fucking Wrong and they Have to Go to Heaven to Fix It.

Crowley, having been primed by the various chats with Nina and then the 2v1 chat with Nina and Maggie RIGHT before this, clearly timed by the Metatron, fully misses all of this and takes it all at face value.

Crowley starts to give his confession and Aziraphale realizes what he's trying to say, tries to adjust his Heaven Pitch to hinge on staying together as a team to fix things."

"You cannot leave this bookshop." "Nothing lasts forever." Azi has chosen the worst way to make another attempt at saying he has no choice but to leave the bookshop. I don't think this is about the Second Coming, given his reaction to the info later.

Everything deteriorates from there as Aziraphale tries again to imply something is Fucking Wrong by going back to the "Angels! Doing good!" shtick, but it's too late. It's always too late.

"I don't think you understand what I'm offering you." He doesn't but Azi is also communicating it very badly, likely because the Metatron is indeed watching.

Crowley thinks this is all real so he gives his No Nightingales line, etc etc. Aziraphale can tell there's no fixing this, gives up.

Crowley swoops in with The Kiss as a last ditch effort to get Azi to listen. Azi WAS listening, but cannot respond other than in anger and frustration that Crowley, in his view, refuses to listen to him again, has called him an idiot again. This happens multiple times throughout the show so there's history to fuel that assumption.

This is the precise outcome the Metatron was vying for, to split them up and emotionally/psychologically weaken them, to ensure there was no chance of a united front as there was for Armageddidn't.

My heart hurts, ow.

[the-boy-king-rp-multi]

bold any fears which apply, italicize what makes them uncomfortable ↳repost, do not reblog!

the dark ⋆ fire ⋆ open water ⋆ deep water ⋆ being alone ⋆ crowds ⋆ confined spaces ⋆ open spaces ⋆ change ⋆ war ⋆ failure ⋆ loss of control ⋆ powerlessness ⋆ prison ⋆ blood ⋆ drowning ⋆ suffocation ⋆ public speaking ⋆ forest ⋆ the supernatural ⋆ heights ⋆ loss ⋆ dying ⋆ death ⋆ love ⋆ intimacy ⋆ rejection ⋆ abandonment ⋆ the unknown ⋆ the future ⋆ not being good enough ⋆ scary stories ⋆ speaking to new people ⋆ poverty ⋆ loud noises ⋆ lack of noise ⋆ being touched ⋆ forgetting ⋆ insects ⋆ dogs ⋆ snakes ⋆ illness ⋆ doctors ⋆ thunder storms ⋆ being watched ⋆ eyes ⋆ being vulnerable ⋆ needles or pointed objects ⋆ clowns ⋆ mirrors ⋆ isolation ⋆ shouting

Tagged by: @likewishesonthewind

Tagging: @blxsscd-x-fxrsakcn

[eternally-racing]

slip | lando norris

genre: angst + fluff

wc: 1k

warnings: none, there's maybe like 1 swear I think

summary: on a tough race weekend in qatar, you want to be there for Lando

-----

“What went wrong today in the car Lando?” 

You watch your boyfriend on your TV screen as your heart sinks when he says “Nothing, just a lack of talent”.  You know it had been a tough string of races for your blue-eyed boy, and this definitely wasn’t the first and would not be the last time that this happened, but you could tell something about this was really getting into Lando’s head.

I’m sorry about today, Lan. Give me a call whenever and we can chat <3 

You sigh as the message only tacks onto the last 3 unanswered messages you’ve sent to him. It’s not intentionally malicious, it never is with him. For so long Lando felt alone in the karting world that he got in the habit of getting in his head over a race weekend, and even with all the work you two have put into your relationship, sometimes he slips right back into those bad habits on those hard days. This wasn’t something you were going to let your boyfriend go through alone though, and that meant calling in some reinforcements. 

"Congrats on the first win Osc!"

“Thanks Y/N :) I know that’s not why you’re reaching out though…” 

Classic Oscar, you chuckle to yourself. He really is wise beyond his years. If anyone would be able to help you help Lando, you would hope that it would be his teammate. 

“It’s bad with him right now, isn’t it?” 

It’s a rhetorical question, but it still offers a glimmer of hope that maybe you’re being the overdramatic girlfriend and Lando’s actually fine. Unfortunately, that couldn’t be further from the truth when Oscar messages you back. 

“It’s really bad, Y/N. None of us know what to do. We need your help” 

That’s all the information you need before you’re setting your master plan into motion. You’re stuffing clothes into a duffle bag, calling in sick to work, and booking a plane ticket to head to Qatar yourself. There was only one moment of hesitation in the airport of “what the hell am I doing” before you look down at your lock screen of a smiley Lando out in the water in Bali. You wanted to bring that smile back so badly, and you hoped that this would be able to do that. Oscar is gracious enough to help you out with all the details of the team’s schedule for the weekend and the details of their hotel, but once you’re standing in front of Lando’s door the reality of the situation really hits you. You’ve come off nearly 12 hours of travel in one of Lando’s old sweatshirts and a pair of leggings, you haven’t looked in a mirror in equally as long which cannot be a good sign, and most of all you have no idea what you’re going to say to him once you see him. It had been a dream of yours to surprise Lando on a race weekend before - you had always imagined hiding in the driver’s room before FP1 and maybe pulling a cheeky prank or two when Lando showed up, but you had never prepared yourself for something like this. 

The key card to Lando’s room lays heavy in your hand, but you want to see if Lando will just open the door for you instead. The sound of your three quiet knocks on his door seem to fill the empty hallway, but you don’t hear any shuffling inside. 

“Hey Lan, it’s me.” are the only words you muster before you hear a clatter from inside. Your heart races as you can hear the click of the lock on the door. It’s truly like a scene in a movie, like time has slowed down for just the two of you. Lando rubs at his eyes like he’s seen a ghost, and it’s only when you reach out to touch his cheek does Lando realize that holy shit, you’re really here. He pulls you into his arms so tight that you feel like you can barely breathe and that’s when you hear it. Lando’s not just crying, he’s sobbing into your arms. The dam had finally broken and Lando had someone he could share his burdens with. You’re not sure how long you two stay there like that, Lando’s tears wetting the shoulder of your sweatshirt, you rubbing his back while whispering sweet nothings to him. Your boyfriend clings to you like he’s afraid that you’ll disappear if he lets go, and there’s now a comfortable air between you both. Once you finally pull away and can get a good glimpse at each other, it really sinks in for you that Lando is finally in front of you. While the point of this trip was of course to support your boyfriend, you couldn’t deny that having a long distance relationship for so long had taken a toll on you as well and you were thrilled to finally see him again, regardless of the circumstances. 

“Wow Y/N, you look…” 

You chuckle and finish Lando’s sentence off for him. “Like garbage I think are the words you’re looking for, Lan” you say as you pick off a piece of cat hair from your sweatshirt that only serves to further prove your point. 

“Beautiful, I was gonna say beautiful” Lando says softly, “but honestly I look like a hot mess right now so maybe we’d make a more perfect pair if we go with your description”. He gives you that cheeky smile that you’ve missed so much as he finishes his sentences, and before you know it you’re both giggling like teenagers together. For a moment it feels like you’re just regular Lando and Y/N on the couch back in Lando’s apartment fighting over what movie to watch on Netflix, not like you’re both in the middle of one of the most stressful race weekends of Lando’s career so far. 

The rest of the evening is filled with comfort and joy, and when Lando drives to P3 all the way from starting in P10 tomorrow, you’re the first person that Lando searches for in the crowd. A “thank you” is all that he musters out while you’re in his arms, but you can see from his eyes that he means so much more than that.

[an-idyllic-novelist]

Lucifer Morningstar with Violet Evergarden!reader scenario

warning: language, ooc, possible spoilers from the first season of the 2024 show.

Special thanks to @tonightwrites for helping me with this piece! Enjoy :)

All right, maybe he is moving a little bit fast in falling back in love again but…well, Lucifer will admit that he can’t help himself. That’s just who he is. He’s passionate by nature, and it shows in the super amazing ducks he has created and how he helps Charlie in rebuilding her hotel. Not to mention you were so cute!

Sure, you’re a little stoic and didn’t have a cellphone, and he did mistake you for a human, but that was okay! He thought it was amazing that you were able to grow almost anything in the hotel’s greenhouse! He had to see it to believe it; wire racks of pots in different shapes and sizes, all those flowers and fruits. There were even herbs nearly bundled up and labeled on a wooden table. It was all very meticulously, and everything was well taken care of. He couldn’t find a single sign of neglect. And a single person was responsible for it all? Holy shit. 

Charlie did reassure him that you were very much dead and a sinner. Why you still looked like a human and had freaky skeletal prosthetics, she had absolutely no clue. 

But the cherry on the top was how respectful you were towards him. I mean, when was the last time someone saluted and referred to him as His Majesty? And that look on the Radio Demon’s face when she curtsied to him, the king of Hell? Priceless. 

He did appreciate your honesty, not even holding back when you said that you weren’t sure if a rubber ducky would look all right with the new fountain in the greenhouse. But you did anyway, carefully laying it on top of the water. You looked at for a long moment, expressionless and calm before turning to him and saying that his little creation gave the greenhouse…a more peaceful ambience. 

You thanked him for his contribution, and went right to work, dressed in an apron with a watering can in your gloved hands. At least until the little maid Niffty came in with a big frown on her face, scolding you for trying to skip meals again. You looked at him for help…but unfortunately, he couldn’t help this time, gently pushing out of the greenhouse while Niffty tugged you by the hand. 

You might say that you are used to not eating to accomplish your tasks, though that growling tummy disagrees~!

Whenever he had a moment, he made sure you took breaks and would spend time with you in the greenhouse so you wouldn’t be lonely. He’d tell you stories, share what else he created, and how he’s been wanting to connect with Charlie for so long…yet was so scared and unsure of what he could say to her. Especially after Lilith left Hell without saying a word seven years ago. 

“The important thing is that you are here with her now and support her endeavors, Your Highness. I…did not have a family when I was alive…but I had friends. Friends who supported and loved me, for all the flaws I possessed.” You looked down at your hand, clenching it slowly into a fist. “It was because of them…that I understood many things about myself…and emotions I did not know I had. Grief. Gratitude. Empathy. Guilt. I was on fire, and I did not know it. But I killed many people during the Great War. I was a weapon. That will never change. However,” You then looked at him. “If I am able to accept that I cannot change the past, and find the courage to move forward…how can a sinner not be able to find redemption even if they are dead? I believe…in Charlie. What she is doing. You do too. And I am sure…she is grateful that you finally understand her.”

 If he hadn’t already been in love with you, this would definitely be the moment when he realized how felt towards you. And Charlie, his sweet, smart little girl knew too. 

That was probably why she pulled him aside one afternoon to privately speak in her office. She was obviously….a little freaked out. But he waited until she finished inhaling and exhaling deep breaths, eyes closed, clenching and unclenching her fists, whatever helped her calm down. She then looked him straight in the eye.

“Look Dad, I’m…happy that you’re happy. I mean, it’s really, really obvious that you like [First Name]. Now there’s nothing wrong with that, I’m okay!” She added quickly, waving her hands up and down frantically. “It’s…it’s been a long time since you and Mom split up, and I know you haven’t even thought about anyone else until now. Look,” She took in another deep breath. “I know how…enthusiastic you can get, but as the hotel’s founder and [First Name]’s friend slash employer…tone it down. The flirting, the dad jokes, and….the romance. I know, I know you love romance! But try to be considerate of [First Name], okay? She’s finally learning how to be a human and I don’t want her to feel pressured or uncomfortable or not understand what you’re doing because you’re moving too fast! She’s really, really oblivious! She doesn’t even know Alastor likes her!”

Lucifer stared at Charlie. “Wait…ARE YOU SERIOUS?! SHE-SHE DOESN’T EVEN KNOW -”

“Dad, please!” 

“IS SHE REALLY THAT CLUELESS?!”

“Yes.” 

To his dismay, you were. You had absolutely no idea that the Radio Demon was besotted with you. He tried to help you around the greenhouse too, invite you to listen to his broadcasts or walks around the nicer parks in the Pride Ring, all the boring stuff an old timer would think count as trying to be romantic. Nope. Nope, nope, this is not happening. Not on his watch!

He will win you over and promise Charlie that he won’t overdo it when he courted you. But could he at least show you how to make a super cool rubber ducky in his workshop, or take you out for a flight with you in his arms? That’s not overdoing it, right? 

…

Maybe? Or should he take you out for some caramel apple pancakes? 

Taglist

@alastorsgoldie

@food-theorys-blog

@sillypenguincats

@theunknowntravel3r

@vikkirosko

@nunezs-stuff

@lbcreations-blog

@imperfectbloodmoon

@crystalrose36

@nixie-writes

@isuckatwritingsobenice

@tired-of-life-86

@frompeach

@trecllllllll

@lanxianschoenheit

@riddle-simp

@22carolina08

@witch-of-the-writing-desk

@justamegafan

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@chewbrry

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@ladymothbeth

@thatstonedwriter

@the-cat-queen-peasants

@anielly-2010

@victheauthor

@oucx

@satubby

@diamondzoey

@ladydoe8

@alyriaschoenheit

[sendsummon]

3 - 5 things your muse can be identified by

tagged by: @inrovina (forever ago rip) tagging: yoooouuuu

– emotions / feelings

anxiety

loneliness & abandonment

a drive to make things better

grief

love

– greetings

a small wave and a smile

an elongated heyyyyy!

a wai, when appropriate

a light punch to the arm of a friend or close coworker

seamlessly slipping an arm over a friends shoulder while they walk together

– colors

navy blue

jade green and teal

antique bronze

lime green

khaki tan

– scents

cigarette smoke

a cologne with top notes of citrus and mint, middle notes of watermelon, and base notes of rosewood and amber

diesel fuel and fast food grease

a hard day's work

– clothing

scratchy, bulky uniforms; clunky boots; tube socks pulled high

a billed hat worn backward, with dark hair sticking out over the adjustable band

patterned short sleeve button ups over white tank tops

light wash denim jeans or cut off shorts

a leather cuff or a paracord bracelet

– objects

box cutters and pocket knives

a hand-me-down labradorite worry stone

a set of keys with more cartoon keychains than actual keys + a lanyard with the words GOOD VIBES printed in big, bubble letters and faded rainbow colors

a scuffed up refillable lighter

– vices / bad habits

avoidance and self-isolation

substances as a coping mechanism

speeding to make up lost time when a delivery takes longer than his company would expect

chewing the inside of his cheek or lips if he goes too long without smoking

leg jiggling and finger tapping

– body language

an almost unnatural stillness--a freeze response--in response to bad news or a scary situation

a tentative smile that brightens, with time and familiarity, until it rivals the sun

leaning in toward people he craves closeness with; near misses when his hand aches to hold another

too-tight hugs and lifting his target up off the ground

a shrinking act, when he aims to make himself so small that he might disappear from view

– aesthetics

a photo of a family reunion from years ago, but one of the figures has been wholly cut from the glossy, framed image

an eerie glow in the corner of your eye; something moving behind sheer curtains; a door swinging open, or the floorboards creaking; the television channel changing by itself; terrible whispers singing in your ear; nothing is there, but you know there is

a landlord-special paint job in an inoffensive eggshell white, and it's okay if you don't look too closely at the uneven parts; a bathroom that's seen better days, but it's all your own for the first time; a refrigerator that may or may not be twice your age but still runs like a champ, and whose hum keeps you company in the quiet of the night

– songs

burn by the cure

holy (til you let me go) by rina sawayama

bad ritual by timber timbre

uninvited by alanis morisette

i don't wanna be like you by ruel

[aeturnumnsyt]

"Who’s going to stop us, huh?" (To Yami ^^)

"No one."

[see-arcane]

Jonathan is escaping just as the beginnings of brain fever and far worse things are roiling in him. Making him more ill and haggard as he traverses the Carpathians in search of a train. Running, burning, withering. Dying.

The closer he gets to death, the more he can feel Dracula's poison trying to overtake him. It's a trap waiting to spring. He knows it. Dracula knows it. Just as the Count knows the Brides let him slip away--

Ah, well, their loss. It seems you are to be mine alone after all, my friend.

--and dreams little visions his way when Jonathan dares to sleep.

Flashes of dark water and mist. Men screaming like sheep before the butcher. Slaughtered with less mercy than any farmer ever showed his livestock before being discarded like trash.

What loss are they, my friend? I have tasted the finer things. A sweet English vintage; I shall savor more of the same in time. But these? Bah! I have seen a thousand of their paltry kind come and go. I would no sooner cherish their meal than you would swoon over a cut of shoe leather. What difference is it if I play with this coarse fare? You shall learn the same habits in time.

"No. No, no, I won't, I can't. I have to go home. I have to get to her. My life is there. My life is her."

What home is that, my friend? Who is she?

He does not answer. He cannot answer. His head is all fire, burning holes through mind and memory. No, God, he must know! He must remember! He has come all this way, he must know where he's going and who is there! His nightmares fill with as much saccharine sympathy as cutting laughter. The most sincere comment he receives in the mire of it is a single reassurance:

You will recall it all, my friend. Sickness makes no mark upon us. You will know. You will be well. Some night, in this year or the next, perhaps we can go and meet her together. In the meantime, cease your struggling. I can feel your fatigue, poor boy. Put down your head. Stop running. Let it take you. Let it help you. Rest.

"No."

Rest.

"No!"

Rest.

"No, no, no--,"

He stuffs himself with berries and a hare and handfuls from a river. A ferryman takes pity--he thinks? a river, he remembers a River, the Ferryman telling him where to go, how soon the sun will rise, he doesn't know, his head, his chest, everything burning, dying--and a blur passes between himself and the train station. He was loud there. Did he scream? Sob? Bare his teeth? They shoo him away with a ticket.

(Sharp. Why do his teeth feel so sharp? Why is he so thirsty when the fluttering shapes of the nuns keep forcing water down his throat?)

(Quiet now. He cannot get through the walls here. Ha. Could not even open his journal if he tried! The crucifix is wrapped around it! Ha!)

(Stings to hold. Why? God, God, please, not now, don't don't don't, please do not do this, the nuns, they think him mad! They are of faith, but they do not believe! They do not know! They won't understand what he is when they put him in the cemetery they won't know what they invited in unawares they won't know until he is up and out of the dirt and oh O God the Cross and the Son will not save them not entirely not when he feasted on an entire mountain range of the faithful whose prayer saved no one and soon he will not need their necks only whatever meat his teeth can reach and no no no no no no no no no no no NO NO NO NO--)

Something is different.

A white light twinkling in the red inferno. He knows it. It has brushed him more than once. She found him in the graveyard, weeping over the stones of his parents. How did she know then that he was there? He'd never told her.

Her.

Her who?

(Love. Darling. Soul. I know this. I know...)

Even if he cannot pierce the veil of a holy place, her presence can. It fires through his eyes--he is caught mid-kiss, the girl's head is hanging down, familiar sunny locks, who..?--and into Jonathan Harker's.

Jonathan Harker. Yes. Yes, that sounds right. And she is...

Running to him, to the nodding girl, a wisp under the moonlight coming to throw herself into danger for the sake of another, as ever and ever amen, she is--

"Mina."

"Pardon?" asks the attendant refilling his pitcher. She watches him carefully. "Did you say something young herr?"

"Mina. Mina Murray." His bloodshot eyes roll to the window. It faces the west. It faces her. Within him, something blessedly cool turns over, quelling an irate blaze. "I should like to write to her."

"I can speak with Sister Agatha about this. Who is Mina Murray, if I may ask?"

"My fiancee. And my name is Jonathan Harker. We live in Exeter." He offers a weak smile. One without sharp teeth. "My apologies for taking so long to remember it."