#i feel we're all just here to have a good time in the end?

[inkskinned]

i haven't been back to CT since the accident.

which is to say I hate driving in CT, every time i have to go through it to get to NYC i spend the whole time holding my breath and hoping nobody acts stupid. there are exactly 2 things in CT worth preserving: rein's deli and the mystic seaport museum - and that second one only because my grandpa loved that shit.

now, i am not particularly familiar with the specifics but it just feels like CT is not an appropriate place for a christmas tree farm. when i got The Call, Roger on the other line called it "your standard CTF" and i had to say my what and he said "you've never heard that? CTF? christmas tree farm? CTF? - or haha, if you're woke, maybe holiday farm? haha".

i hung up after that for like 12 minutes just to take a deep breath and do a 10-minute meditation so i don't peak my blood pressure. and then i said sorry my phone died and ignored him talking while i googled. oregon has the highest number of CTFs per state. most firs and standard christmas trees are in zones 4-7 and CT is mostly a 6 state, so actually maybe i was just being biased against CT when i assumed you simply can't grow the spirit of christmas down there.

i like the name balsam fir and i keep repeating it to myself. i didn't know there were so many species of christmas trees. meanwhile Roger is still talking a mile a minute. "you don't gotta come in with force but really stick it to 'em. that's what Kevin and Herb taught me - none of that nice-guy stuff, okay? we're talking quick-and-easy. get in, hand 'em the folder, get out. it's efficiency that's the matter here."

i tune him out and then eventually get the pleasure of hanging up.

I only really work for this stupid place because i need insurance for my fucking laundry list of chronic "hysterical woman" issues (EDS, POTS, PCOS. probably something else with a fun acronym, why not). i fucking hate it here, except that it's actually been, like... fine? since the top 6 account managers kind of (i guess) disappeared - including my 2 bosses, Kevin and Herb.

most of us are just like, still doing our job. we still have meetings. there's less weird jokes. the meetings are much shorter. we just present our stuff and go home. so imagine how i fucking feel getting in my stupid honda civic and driving the 3 hours down from boston to bum-fuck just to... check on the boys.

i grew up on a farm, so im not too surprised when the road suddenly turns from "gravel" to "makeshift" to "shut the gps off, it's just confused at this point." no worries. a guy in a torn flannel drew a picture for me at the last gas station. he had leaned over and sniffed a little while sipping his Dunks. they got good trees.

they do. after a little white picket fence, suddenly the entire road is swarmed by them. firs on all sides like a coat. red twine marks off alleys of pine; cute little bows shine on the top of many. bells and white plastic deer and each branch dusted with glittering pristine snow. ornaments and little santas peeking out of present boxes.

i lean over the steering wheel and glance upwards. "aw shit. it's fucking cute here." in my passenger's seat, TERMINATION OF ACCOUNT is a red folder. i don't feel fucking good about this. i don't want to fucking do this. there's a freaking hand-painted sign saying family-owned! with handprints on it and tiny little names scrawled under it. jesus christ(mas). i'm 1000% going to hell for doing this.

on the other hand, Jen was one of the 6. like, losing the men was fine. but it is weird that jen never came back last month. i'm like, too feminist to feel okay with that. obviously yes quit your job and walk out but like - she had a life before she left. apartment and everything it sounds like.

i give up trying to bump my car over the potholes and end up walking the last 1.2 miles. it's been getting warmer these years, which i hate - but it's a lot colder here than i expected. the weather app said 54F. it feels maybe 21. the smell of snow warns me before i glance upwards - sure enough, decadent fresh flakes come tumbling down.

aw fuck. if it was gonna snow i should have put my windshield wipers up. i nestle closer into my jacket and pointlessly check my out-of-service phone for the 125th time. i realize only now i fucking forgot the folder in the fucking car.

the little house-barn-store is too close and i'm too cold at this point, so fine. the whole thing is covered in warm white lights and cute decorations. old christmas music is coming out of speakers placed at the end of the tree aisles.

i practice what i'm going to say. hi. i'm with Herrington Asset Management. we have sent, like. a lot of representatives. what did you do with the 6 entire human beings that came down here.

wait, why am i just now realizing our acronym is HAM? okay, so i'm going to say -

a man with a bright smile and a red flannel comes out from behind a work shed, wiping his hands on a rag. he's pretty, the way men can be pretty sometimes: rugged and approachable, blue eyes, 5'oclock shadow. he fills out that flannel well. "didn't hear ya come in, my apologies! what can i do ya for?"

i'm with HAM and I'm here to shut down your CTF. "hi."

"hi." he smiles wider. "welcome."

"um..." i sniff a little, feeling stupid. i keep thinking about my parents and how fucking hard it actually is to keep a farm. like, they say it a lot in movies, but it's genuinely like really very hard. fucking A, man. I don't want to do this.

he squints at me. "you from around here?"

i try not to bristle - is that because i'm fucking hispanic and allowed outdoors in CT - and suck in a breath. "no, i, um..." i decide to tell the truth. "a guy at cumby's told me where to find ya."

he laughs, and the sound is a sonic boom in the stillness. "that'd be Ron. he's a looker, huh? no, i recognize all our regulars, is all. don't recognize you."

HAM is located in Jersey and i work remote, so i take a second pass at radical honesty. my yoga teacher would be so proud. "i'm from boston, actually. just swinging through."

"oh? for real? laurel's from boston - she's my fiancée. how 'bout that. small world. can you believe - she left the big city for a dunce like me and now i get to marry the best lady around."

i do the little appropriate chuckle you are supposed to do when someone you don't know is also from the same major metropolitan area that you are from. also, that's extremely sweet to say about his partner. i am a sucker for wife-guys. "no kidding?"

"how are you liking conneticut? it's beautiful this time of year."

"it's..." fine? "more snow than i expected. weather said clear through 'til like thursday."

he offers me a warm hand. "i'm nick. what brings ya down here?"

i can't remember the name on the account. maybe it's in her name. and didn't i just say i was passing through? i flash him a smile while i think of the easiest way to warm him into the idea of shutting down his personal business. fuck. "um, just had some stuff to handle."

"that time of year, huh?" at my noncommittal smile, he waves a big, meaty paw. "come inside, i'll getcha some hot chocolate. laurel just made cookies."

he leads me into the store part of the building, and i stop for a second to pick up a tiny ornament shaped like a cottage. okay, this shit really is very cute.

"christmas really is the best holiday of all of 'em," he sighs. "wouldn't you agree?"

no, that's halloween. "sure," i say. i hold up the ornament. "this is nice." i glance around. "this is all... very rustic."

"sometimes you gotta just hit the brakes and slow down. this town is so perfect for that. places like this are so rare, ya know?"

oh i really fucking hope he doesn't know i'm from HAM. literally that would be such a vibe killer. "very rare," i agree.

i follow him into the back. i pause at the green velvet-rope stanchion that blocks off a hallway presumably leading into the "house" portion of the building. "oh. i can stay out here...?" because i am not going into this man's house. alone.

"don't be silly." he wraps his arm around mine like a gentleman and i almost scratch his damn eyes out, except i'm genuinely so fucking shocked by the boldness of the action that i just sort of follow him down the hallway. "i won't letcha leave without a cookie."

he walks me into a simply stunning kitchen. the ceiling skyrockets into a beautiful, tinseled roof. the living room folds out to the left of the kitchen island. a fire is roaring, and a massive christmas tree winks cheerily at me. outside the huge windows, the snow peacefully rests in perfect layers.

well, there's part of their money problems. they need better insulation because paying for heat in a building with this many windows has got to cost an arm and a leg. nevermind how much dust must collect on those exposed beams. why do people design houses like this - have they never cleaned?

also, they need to stop spending half their budget on christmas decorations. surely not every surface needs to be frosted with pottery barn items. it is dangerously close to a modernized cracker barrel in here. i wander into the living room, trying not to be jealous of the casual wealth.

nick stands next to me and chuckles. "this kinda weather always makes me want cookies. but that's what laurel's here for, i guess."

"you have a pretty place," i say, because i am clearly staring.

"oh, i don't know. needed a woman's touch." he winks at me and goes behind the granite kitchen island to wash his hands. "you shoulda seen it before laurel."

"oh yeah?"

he nods. "had some money troubles. 'course, she is an angel and organized a whole fundraiser. mind you - she's only been here but a second when she does. i proposed to her right then and there."

i can't help it. i genuinely fucking love that. "that is incredible," i say. "how precious to find love like that."

"she's my answer to all life's problems. truly."

"honey?" a warm voice greets us and a lady comes around the corner, one hand in an oven mitt. "do we have a customer?"

i stop moving.

her hair is darker now. her smile is wider. something opens a pit in my stomach and i fall through myself. i put my hand on my stupid useless phone and take a step backwards.

"oh!" her white teeth shine. "hi there. you're not from around here, are you?" she picks up a tray of cookies. "i recognize all our regulars."

the man laughs. "rob is tellin' on us again." she laughs too, tinkly and high and beautiful.

of course she doesn't recognize me, we're remote and don't work on the same accounts, i was never high up enough -

nick gives her a little slap on the back that makes her stumble. she laughs and wipes a little bit of flour on his nose affectionately.

maybe i'm not being fair. she could have legitimately found love and dropped out of our shitty job. he wraps his arms all the way around her and buries his nose in her hair. "my girl," he says.

"i'm laurel," she smiles at me. "i'm his fiancee. come inside, let me getcha some hot chocolate."

he picks up a cookie from the counter and waves at me. "i'm gonna go whack on a tractor for a few minutes, but i'll leave you in the capable hands of my beautiful christmas girl," he promises. "warm up, and then let's go back out there and pick you out something nice."

i force a smile at him and at her and watch him leave. i do not move. i stay perfectly still, like an animal. because here's the thing: her name isn't laurel.

maybe she's conning him?

i stare at her. she doesn't seem to notice, instead taking a bag of white icing out of the large, beautiful fridge. "how are you liking conneticut? isn't it beautiful this time of year?"

"jen, what the fuck is happening."

she arranges a single gingerbread man on her countertop and starts icing him. "how are you liking conneticut?" she repeats. "isn't it -"

"it's beautiful this time of year," i say.

"christmas is the best holiday of all," she sighs, "wouldn't you agree?"

"sure," i say. i put the phone in my pocket. i stand up straighter. "i am really just..." going to leave now. maybe i should try subtlety. "don't i know you from somewhere?" like, ya know, work?

the cookie is too hot and the icing is melting as she draws the outlines on the gingerbread. a bead of sweat trickles down her nose. "i'm from the big city," she says. "but now i am going to be married to the best man around. i'm his beautiful christmas girl."

"right, but which big city?"

"i'm from the big city. how are you liking conneticut?"

there is ice in my gut. i am getting the pure, foreboding sense of fuck that which i am pretty sure is genetically engineered in me. in spanish we call it espookies. i try to make it look casual while i walk closer and closer to the exit. i pretend to look at the decorations closely. "i'm just wondering because your partner said you're from boston?"

she laughs. the cookie icing is pooling on the counter. "sometimes you gotta just hit the brakes and slow down. this town is so perfect for that. places like this are so rare, wouldn't you agree?" she pushes the gingerbread to the side and starts working on the next one.

it's hot in here, i realize. too-hot. sweat licks down my back. i watch it slide down her neck, down her arms.

she outlines a melting gingerbread man. "what brings you down here?"

"i had..." i feel my voice crack. the hallway back into the store is within a few steps at this point. "...some stuff to handle."

"that t-"

"that time of year," i finish for her.

she stares at me. the icing has burst out of the bag and is melting down her wrists and over her apron. "doesn't this weather make you want cookies?"

i put one heel into the hallway, trying to back up as subtly as possible.

she looks up at me. icing melts over the counter. "doesn't the weather make you want cookies?"

i'm so close to making a bolt for it. but when i look at her and the icing and her perfectly applied lipstick i just fucking can't. my heart breaks for her. i need to at least fucking try.

"jen - laurel - whatever," i hiss. "i don't know what fucking happened but - we need to fucking leave." i glance behind me. "jen, this isn't fucking okay. whatever he's doing to you - we can get out of here. call the cops. something."

"it's beautiful this time of year."

"jen. come on girl, i will put you in my fucking car. but we got to go. i don't know if it's like a cult thing or -" i hork down a breath and feel dangerously close to crying. "please."

"doesn't the weather make you want cookies? that's what i'm here for!"

i take another step backwards and a hand comes down on my shoulder. when i jump, nick is back, and laughing.

"sorry about that." tucked under one arm is a huge ax. nick wipes his hands on a rag. "low on oil. you get a cookie from the missus? that's what she's -"

"balsam fir," i blurt. "i'm looking for a balsam fir."

he puts the axe over one shoulder. "oh? i love balsam. good choice. didn't expect a city slicker like you to know much about christmas trees." he lets out a laugh and so does she.

sweat is beading down my back. "i grew up on a farm," i feel my voice come out creaky and high.

he laughs again. "when you came in, i thought - this lady is corporate. you know how we take to that."

"money troubles," jen says from the kitchen. "we had money troubles."

my lips feel dry. i manage to slide by him, closer to the store. i force a watery smile. "oh. no, sir."

"they come in with a folder, talking about our CTF. i said i've been doing this for years."

my heart is slamming against my chest. i take another step down the hallway. i throw a look to jen.

she opens the oven and sticks her head inside.

"you know," nick says. "the firs are out by where you left your car."

i didn't tell him where i left my car. "oh, great." i say. "must be a sign." i take another step. and then another. i feel the weight of the velvet rope behind me and jump a second time.

"from the big city" jen says, her voice muffled by the oven. "how are you liking conneticut? this place needed a woman's touch."

at the other end of the long hallway, Nick swings the axe to come home in his hands. "it needs a woman's touch," he says.

yeah, absofuckinglutely not.

i turn and bolt, wiggling past the rope, stumbling into the many, many ornament displays. above me, white christmas rings out while i run-walk through wreaths and bobbles and reindeer. tears prick at the side of my eyes but being raised on a farm teaches you the professional art of being incredibly good at a panicked run-walk.

behind me, i hear nick pacing the store. the rope must have slowed him down. he's bigger than i am - he doesn't weave through things as easily. thank god.

i throw myself against the front doors and burst out into the chill and immediately feel a cough in my chest. the snow whips through the air. i dash past handmade right this way to holiday cheer! signs and tinsel. behind me, like a ghost, nick stomps his way ever-closer. i dart into the thickest part of the trees, hoping he will lose me in the snow and branches.

"you're from boston, right?" he shouts. "my ex was from boston. small world."

i dart across the wet snow and almost slide on the black ice underfoot. fuck fuck fuck fuck i cannot run a fucking mile in the cold. see above multiple chronic reasons for this. my bones and joints are already fucking hurting as i try to shimmy my way through the boughs, alternatively running and hiding. if i survive this, i wont be able to move for like a week.

if. good fucking lord. if.

"it's a nice place," he calls. i can't locate him in the whip of the snow. "it just needs a woman's touch."

thankfuckinggod im used to snow and blizzards because otherwise i would be utterly fucked. i try to keep any amount of calm in my body while i manage the slide-waddle of running on black ice - the backwards lean and body-tilt that i've practiced many times over farmland. the kind of tilt-run that is only possible if you've done it before. thankfuckinggod i'm not a city slicker - the trick isn't to rush.

but fuck it would be nice to rush right now!

over the speakers, white christmas restarts. i fork my keys through my fingers into a sharpened fist. i pause only for a second to pick up a particularly swingable gnome and then i keep fucking running. my chest feels like liquid fire. i can't stop coughing. christmas trees rise up on all sides of me. i can't get a breath down. the air feels like a fire hose. every step i take fucking echoes. go go go go go go.

i dart, he laughs, i freeze. i dash my way forwards. a branch cuts into my cheek. my nose is full of the smell of pine. my hands are sticky with sap and i'm covered in green needles.

i keep going. if i fucking die on a christmas tree farm i hope i poison all of the trees and end christmas. i run and hide and run and hide. i have no idea where that fucker is but i am not going to be caught relaxing for a moment.

my knee makes a particularly sharp turn and i know for a fact i've just done some serious damage. i slap my hand down onto it and hide inside the branches a particularly thick tree, trying to catch my breath for a second.

a family owned! sign winks up at me. the little handprints are the names of children, but the big ones say Steve and Piper. the date on it is from this year.

i simply do not have the time to care about that. i shiver through several calming breaths, trying to force my body back into running. i stumble into a clearing and recognize it as the road i took in.

something loud and banging starts and i know in my bones it's the sounds of a tractor starting up.

my heart drops and i seriously think about just laying down on the ground and letting him run me over.

except there is my car, blanketed peacefully in a white layer. i should have put the fucking windshield wipers up.

what-the-fuck-ever. my hands are shaking too much. i just need to get inside the fucking thing and go. i will ruin my suspension but i will take every pothole dead on if i must.

the tractor lights slice through the blizzard, heading right towards my car. it bounces jovially over the snow and potholes, unhindered.

nick is on the back of it, swinging his axe, laughing.

over the hum of his engine he calls: "how are you liking conneticut?"

Sending my most reliable corporate staffer to Connecticut to shut down a Christmas tree farm. Wish me luck

[hotvintagepoll]

Trying to get more into old movies because of this blog (I only know about half of these people and feel like a poser) do you have good recommendations on where to start or is it just a situation where you watch stuff and find what you like as you go?

you are not a poser <3 i myself am just here for the hotties.

here is my quick and dirty list of fun films to start with if you're new to old movies. and of course if you like one of these, do try to find more stuff as you go! there's no bad way to try out old movies.

(this list is not official and is SUPER quick. i'm tagging for content warnings where I can, but if I forgot something let me know.)

"I want to watch something SILLY!"

The Court Jester (Danny Kaye, Angela Lansbury, Glynis Johns, Basil Rathbone)—everyone in this movie is hot. everyone is in fancy medieval dress, which makes them hotter. everyone here is very silly. You can stream this on Hoopla, last time i checked, so you might be able to stream it through your library!

Chitty-Chitty Bang-Bang (Dick Van Dyke, Sally Ann Howes, Lionel Jeffries, Gert Frobe)—some people hate this movie and to them I say What Is Wrong With You. dick van dyke is a hot absent minded inventor who lives in a windmill with his two adorable children, his gorgeous sheepdog, and a grandfather who is categorically useless. it feels like the two films mary poppins (1964) and willy wonka (1971) had a baby and that baby was born on roller skates singing an old broadway showtune. this one has been showing up in some odd places lately—I think you can catch it on Tubi or Hoopla? It's definitely around.

Seven Brides for Seven Brothers (Jane Powell, Julie Newmar, Howard Keel, Russ Tamblyn)—my problematic fave. everytime i watch this i change my mind whether it's a sexist pile of garbage or a feminist paean, and fellas, today we're on the feminist paean bandwagon!! jane powell's millie is truly the star of the movie, she is the hero she drives the plot the narrative is on her side, and besides all that there are seven very hot men dancing next to her and six beautiful ladies making me bisexual. (on Tubi last I checked.)

The Duke Is Tops (Lena Horne, Laurence Criner)—I get a huge kick out of watching Laurence Criner and Ralph Cooper swindle everybody while also trying to put on a show; there's just something silly and sincere here, plus you get a ~musical extravaganza~ at the end when all is right as rain again. Free on YouTube I think?

"I want to watch something DRAMATIC that may make me FEEL SOMETHING."

Witness for the Prosecution (Marlene Dietrich, Tyrone Power, Elsa Lanchester)—I love a campy twisty turny mystery, don't you? :) I'm not going to talk about this one much because it's better to go in blind, but if you like Agatha Christie stories you'll probably like this.

To Be Or Not To Be (Carole Lombard, Jack Benny)—always relevant, always makes me laugh, also makes me cry. this takes place in poland during wwii so big tw for nazi imagery and mentions. (don't worry. this movie fucking hates nazis.)

Seven Samurai (Toshiro Mifune)—this one is Great Cinema™™™™™™™™™™™ for a goddamned reason

"I want to watch some stuff with the scrungles in it!"

Mr. Washington Goes to Town (Mantan Moreland)—I've been checking out more of Mantan Moreland's stuff because every time I see him in something I think he's delightful, and I really enjoyed this silly-spooky comedy. Does this story have a brain cell? No. Are the special effects and goofy slapstick fun? Yes. This is a fun example of an all-Black cast in a film that was made for Black audiences, and is a striking counterpoint to the stereotypical representation Black actors were given in white-targeted films, showing the enormous amount of talent and artistry the racist studios missed out on by excluding these actors. This is not A Great Film™ but it's still A Fun Time,™ with a goofy Laurel and Hardy type vibe. (It's free on Youtube.)

The Red Shoes (Robert Helpmann, Leonide Massine, Marius Goring)—hey kid, you wanna watch something fucked up? This movie is so fucked up. It's about ballet, it's about art, it's about technicolor, it's about dance and toxic relationships and making theatre and nightmares and ambition and death. A lot of these recs tend on the silly side (because I tend on the silly side) but this one is actually Serious Film and will definitely help you chat up Martin Scorsese should you ever meet him. Big content warning if you can't handle dark themes right now—this movie's pretty dark, not in the gore way but in the Haunting Creepy Image way. (it's also free on Tubi and Kanopy most of the time.)

The Invisible Man (Claude Rains)—my favorite of the vintage horror flicks and a great introduction to Most Dunked On Hot Vintage Man of All Time, Claude Rains. (it helps that you barely ever see him!) Very very silly but the special effects are just plain fun. (I think this is on Internet Archive in full?)

"Can I just get more hot people please?"

Flower Drum Song (James Shigeta, Nancy Kwan, Miyoshi Umeki, Jack Soo)—there are so many unbelievably hot people in this movie which is somehow very good (thanks to its cast) and also incredibly, horrifically bad (thanks to its white team of writers, directors, and producers). on the one hand, it's a mostly Asian cast in a big budget, beautifully designed MGM style musical! there's dream sequences, lots of fun dancing, crooning Rogers & Hammerstein cabaret moments, and just charm galore. it is also freighted with so. many orientalist assumptions and stereotypes, absolutely ridiculous shit that the writers ABSOLUTELY should have known better about in the 60s and nonetheless carried into this. this is a hard one to recommend because I loved this cast, and I loved seeing them in a context beyond the usual stereotypical bit parts so many of them frequently were limited to—yet the movie itself perpetuates so many stereotypes on its own it can be a hard one to watch, and I totally understand if it does not work for most people. tl;dr watch for Shigeta, Kwan, Umeki, and the others, but content warnings galore for one (really bad) case of yellowface casting, orientalist tropes, extremely stereotypical character types, etc. (On Tubi/Kanopy last I checked.)

Charade (Cary Grant, Audrey Hepburn, James Coburn)—this movie feels like a Hitchcock movie except I had a ton of fun watching it, which I can't always say for a Hitch film. (I told you my taste was bad.) This one is free on YouTube and thank god because Audrey wears a lot of Givenchy, Cary Grant wears spectacles and keeps almost dying, it's very exciting and thrilling and funny and sexy. I don't think there are any content warnings but it's been a minute since I watched it. (I should go watch it right now.)

The Big Sleep (Humphrey Bogart, Lauren Bacall)—they're so hot askjdljhjghladkghjksahkhgslkahgshskjhgsalhgsahgjh. i like this one a lot :)

[this is NOT A FULL LIST of all the hot vintage movies to start with but it might give you some starting places! i banged this out as quick as I could at 2 am, so apologies that it's sloppy and not perfect.]

[poetryvampire]

✨️trop men and if they could get you off based mostly on vibes ✨️

💕Now to level the playing field let's give a simple y/n on if they could get the job done during your first time together and the overall mood of the evening. Mildly nsfw (I'm not gonna get too detailed...unless 👀)

Adar💀 Yes. Woof, not to get too crass right off the bat but daddy is the name he earned so yes absolutely. Also brace yourself it will be kinkier than you think and it will awaken something in you. And it would start off painfully slow just easing you into it lightly. Seems like a great opportunity to try things you've been curious about but beware you're getting into like five kinks that haven't even crossed you mind before. One minute you're having a romantic candle lit dinner then Bam youre wearing a chain collar with his name on it.

Elrond 😇 Oh, god bless. No. Baby I'm sorry but no. That being said it would still be a great time with really positive vibes. But Elrond would get too in his own head thinking about options and the best 'plan of attack' to actually deliver. Plus he would play it super safe not wanting to off put you in anyway and thus would kill the passion a bit. Still would be the biggest sweetheart and over all give you a fun time. (Give him time to build his confidence though lotr Elrond Fucks for sure)

Halbrand 🐶 LISTEN Listen listen...No. Hear me out. I just-I feel it in my blood that this guy will rizz you so hard and talk such a big game and than when he time comes it's just ok at best. Like he's made at least one person come before and thinks he has cracked the code. Still his heart's (seemingly) in the right place and its pretty romantic over all. Lots and lots of cuddling.

Annatar 🐱 Yes. And it's amazing but the vibes are terrible. He gets way too intense too fast. He's the kind of guy to say some really weird shit during. Like not even anything dirty just waxing poetic about how you're part of each now and the bond of your bodies is inescapable even in death. And he waaay into talking about how you belong to him now and you're just like?? Is he just talking crazy in the heat of the moment or ?? Also no aftercare and he's 100% gone when you wake up.

Arondir 🏹 Yes. And it's Good but not as romantic as you were hoping. He's into you but Arondir def doesn't realize what a catch he is and is surprised that you're so here for him. Also buddy's got a lot going on so he's still gonna be pretty guarded emotionally. Still he's extremely respectful and such a good kisser like he's got your head spinning and you've barely started.

Elendil 🗡 No. But he tries hard and it's a great time. He's kinda got that big puppy Halbrand thing going on but like genuine. Def more into you than you are him. Elendil will rizz you with care. Pays very close attention to what you like/want. Even if it doesnt happen he's fine with talking about it, even makes a few light jokes at his expense. He's terribly good at putting you at ease. By the end of the night you're more smitten than you first thought.

Celebrimor 💍 Yes. Are you kidding me?We're talking mastery, we're talking attentiveness, we're talking about a very smitten old man that's going to court you with his whole heart. The vibes are impeccable and he's going to make it known that taking care of you is his top priority. Additionally I can't explain why but you know this man's head game is god tier.

Gil Galad 🏵 Yes. Don't even get me started on how this man is gonna rock your world. The high king is a big guy so it's go big or go home when it comes to love and affection. He doesn't allow himself to pursue romance often but when he does he goes hard. In terms of the act itself and the amount of extravagance and detail he'd put into wooing you. Plus cmon you know he's stressed and pent up as hell. Brace yourself for being be absolutely worshipped All night. You're in for a wicked case of jelly legs and you're not going anywhere.

[zepskies]

Oooh yay!! I'm so excited to dive into your thoughts, friend! 😜💜

I LOVE that you have notes! You spoil me. 🥰

Controlled breathing was necessary. But also, I feel like there were some great layers here. Dean allowing himself to feel good? And not just for one night. Admitting it and actually pursuing more? Yessssss. He deserves that.

*breath in, breathe out* loll

Aww thank you for that observation! Dean's finally acknowledging and breaking down those barriers within himself for "something good." 💗

Him sleeping better with her next to him--a classic. Never gets old. <3

Exactly, that's how I feel! 🥹 (We both know I'm a sap lol)

This whole paragraph was beautiful. Also, it was a moment where, if someone simply handed it to me with no other context, I would know it was yours. It felt like you.

The way you just gripped my heart tight and gave me the warm fuzzies. 🥹🥹 "It felt like you." What an amazing compliment! Thank you, my friend. 💕

Her rings being such an identifier was a great detail that fit so well with the reveal at the end. Smart, smart writing!

Aw I'm glad you liked that! That came over from Maybe More Than Enough. I just like the idea of her having silver rings as a fashion statement, a habit, and a good hunter tidbit all in one. 💜

Loved this! Definitely have had something similar in my head while daydreaming. A little sassy, but mostly lovingly concerned. (Again, so very you.)

It's his grouchy little face -- you just wanna smooth out those frowny lines. 😂😂 Aww thank you! Sassy, but mostly lovingly concerned is how I feel like I'd try to be with him. 💗

My stomach was doing something different this time. LMAO. The end of the first section--how he still had questions but just decided to trust her and her judgment. Brilliant. And proved that he really is ready for more.

LMAO I do not blame you on that one. 🤣

Aw Dean. It's mostly that he trusts her, but I feel like it's also a little bit of him "not wanting to look needy," asking too many questions about where she's been. Even if it's both, it's still a sign that he cares and he wants to be there for her regardless.

And in that first section, I simply could not figure out what she was off doing or what it meant for them. The reveal was as satisfying as the guessing. That might actually be my favorite part of this piece--the fact that I could not figure out where it was going. But also, she spent her early morning baking him a pie? My heart got gooier than its filling! =']

Ahaha honestly I feel accomplished that I managed to stump you at first! I threw in a couple of really tiny hints, but I hoped that the reveal would be surprising and satisfying enough, so I'm very glad you think so! She really did spend half the night and the early morning prepping that damn pie for him! 😂

And it just got better from there. He forgot his own birthday? OUCH. His emotion over her gesture? Love, love, love. And their use of touch? So tender and sweet. So, yeah, I was a fan of this one. xD<3

He really did in this one! Like, I feel like the brothers don't make a big deal about birthdays as well as holidays, so with everything they always have going on, HC that Dean forgets his own birthday half the time in the later seasons. I felt like her doing this for him would be a small but significant way of her showing that she's "all in."

Thank you again SO much for your lovely comments and observations!! You totally made my day, Larrs. 💕💕

It's not his birthday yet IRL, but we're celebrating it a bit early in this story. 😂

Restless Nights

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: After a tryst you instigated in the backseat of his Baby, you and Dean have started something new. He’s just not sure that you’re as “all in” as you claimed to be.

AN: As promised, here's a bonus one-shot to follow Maybe More Than Enough, though it can be read as a stand-alone. This is based on a request from @lacilou, one of my lovely Patreon members!

Bonus! It fulfills the @spnfanficpond monthly prompt. (Can’t give it away until the end though!)

Request: A Dean story based on the song “I Remember You” by Skid Row.

Word Count: 1.2K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, fluff, implied mentions of sex, bit of a twist ending… 

Dean woke to the sound of pouring rain hitting the roof of the bunker.

It must’ve been some torrential downpour, because it took a lot for him to hear anything of the outside world from inside this place. Good thing the old heaters kept out the January cold, too. Nothing worse than frigid rain.

Blearily he cracked his eyes open, unearthed an arm from where it was tucked under his pillow, and carefully raised his phone to check the time, trying not to let the light from the screen burn his retinas in the still dark room.

4:00 a.m.

He groaned. Goddamn it.

He turned over onto his other side to face where you should’ve been lying next to him. He frowned when he saw nothing but the sheets pulled back and a dented, empty pillow.

No matter how he fought it down, a small tinge of worry, and the beginnings of disappointment churned in his gut. His brows furrowed.

Did you regret it already?

After his first make out session with you (turned more session) in the backseat of his Baby, you two struck a tentative agreement to figure what this could be—more than hunting partners, allies, and friends. Despite the fact that you kissed him first (a fact he didn’t easily let you forget), afterwards, you’d been a little hesitant about what came next.

“We take it day by day,” he’d told you, with a sizzling kiss that stole your breath. “All I know is…this feels good.”

It felt right. You had definitely agreed with that.

Dean sighed through his nose, turning back onto his other side. It wasn’t unusual for him to be a light (restless) sleeper, but the handful of times you’d joined him in his bed had been beginning to make his nights calmer. He was actually starting to sleep through until morning.

What’s more, after years of looking into your eyes and seeing all the possibilities of what if, he was finally getting to make those images solid, and real. He could touch them, taste them, feel them under his calloused hands. He finally had you for real.

He looked past your empty spot in his bed and didn’t see your phone, or any of your rings on the nightstand. They were the first things you put on in the morning, and the last things you took off at night.

If those were gone…

His disappointment was settling high in his chest now; an ache approaching pain.

Until he heard the light sound of bare feet padding back toward the bed. Your hand slid gently up his arm, and after the surprise wore off, the corners of his lips tugged upwards. Your hair was a bit wild and frizzy. It tickled his neck and shoulder when you leaned in to kiss his cheek.

“What’s this?” you whispered, swiping two fingers between the crunch in his brows. Dean relaxed with a small smile.

“Nothin’,” he claimed. His voice was deep and rough with sleep. “Had an appointment to get to or something?”

You smiled and settled into bed, embracing him from behind. He turned onto his back and welcomed you over, with an arm curling around your waist. He rested his hand on yours when it smoothed across his chest.

Subtly glancing down, he didn’t find any of the silver you wore on the daily, including the ring with a small turquoise stone he’d bought you a couple weeks ago, on a hunt in Denver. That one, you now almost never took off.

“I put them away in a drawer,” you said, wiggling your fingers under his hand. Your hand felt dry, and a little like you'd been handling something dusty. Had you been up reading in the library again, lost track of time? “When I woke up, I saw one fell off the nightstand. Have a feeling it had something to do with the bedframe knocking against it.”

At that, Dean couldn’t contain his lazy smirk.

“My bad,” he said, sounding anything but sorry.

You laughed, shaking your head. You still laid a kiss below his shoulder before you settled back down. He gave your waist a gentle squeeze, pressing a kiss of his own to your forehead. A deep breath fell from between his lips, and his eyes closed.

A question was on the tip of his tongue. Where you were, why you got up. Was it something he could help with? Or was it one of those moments you needed to have alone, not unlike the times you gave him to settle with his thoughts, after a hunt gone sideways. If it was important, you’d level with him, wouldn’t you?

So he let it be.

In the morning, you somehow once again managed to get out of bed without him feeling it. He didn’t hear you either. Curiosity led him down the hall and glancing inside the cracked door of Sam’s room. It was empty, his running shoes gone from the side of his bed. Dean rolled his eyes.

All right, Lance.

Oh, wait, that was biking. …Whatever.

Dean’s next path inevitably took him down to the kitchen. His stomach was already percolating—in need of good coffee and (hopefully) good food.

The smell wafting from the kitchen surprised him, however. Cinnamon apples?

He turned the corner, and there he found you.

The fuck?

You looked a bit of a mess. Your hair was thrown up into a haphazard bun, and you’d stolen his apron. Though in his eyes, you made it look better, the white fabric hugging around your curves like you were Rachel Ray or something. You were frazzled when he came downstairs, but happy to see him. You beckoned him over and sat him down at the small kitchen table.

“Sweetheart, what’s going on here?” he asked, eying you curiously.

“Just stay there!” you called from the kitchen. He heard you opening the oven, cursing when you nearly dropped something.

What the hell were you doing baking before 9:00 a.m.?

He turned to ask you what was going on (and if you needed help), but before the words could come out of his mouth, you came over and carefully set down the pie in front of him. The rich aroma, the golden flaky crust, the flecks of cinnamon and glossy apples peeking out from the divots in said crust—it all had Dean’s mouth watering, and his shocked gaze fixed on the shiny pastry.

He startled a little when he felt your hands on his shoulders, sliding part of the way down his arms. You kissed the side of his head.

“Thought I wouldn’t remember, did you?” you teased. “Happy Birthday, baby.”

Dean’s throat constricted. He tried not to show it, but your gaze gentled when he finally met yours, like you were seeing through all his layers anyway. He realized then what you were probably working on last night, and he really couldn’t fucking believe it.

He’d forgotten his own birthday. Couldn’t see much use in celebrating, when year after crappy year…

But he closed a hand over yours on his shoulder, and he brought your hand to his lips.

Every word he couldn’t yet say to you was etched in that single gesture.

AN: Short and angsty sweet! lol And the monthly prompt was "pie!" 🥧 For Dean of course. 😂

Hope you guys enjoy this one! 💜

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[olderthannetfic]

Ok, LONG story and a rant. ESL

I have a "friend" who recently got on the topic of disabled children, including severely disabled, mentally and physically children, and how people having an abortion just because of it are bad people. She's not pro-life, but her opinion is if you want a child you need to "accept what you get." She has even spoken about how she'd never even consider an abortion if she had a disabled child, and that she'd be a great mom. Blah blah blah.

Starting off, we went to school in the same class until high school. Her entire life she was terrified of people with disabilities, especially developmental. One time in 8-9th grade she started scream crying because our teacher's son with down syndrome had to join class for 2 hours because of the teacher's schedule. In 3rd grade she thought needing glasses was infectious and always ran away from the two kids in class with glasses.She's had some of the weirdest reactions to people with autism, ADHD, and similar diagnosis.

Yet she's here proclaiming how good of a mother she'd be to a disabled child, as a key argument why people screening for disabilities are bad.

Here's my position, as someone who started studying in a field focusing on working with disabled people in all stages of ability and disability, her sentiment is incredibly stupid to me. If you know the fetus will become an incredibly disabled child, it's not a kindness to have it, you're not mother Mary for giving birth to a child that'll never be able to live independently in this world. I've experienced some of the most unpleasant sides of this, and I don't mean helping clean people after the toilet, or showering. I've been inappropriately groped, touched, and kissed by more people than I can count. Some of them understand it's wrong when I tell them a firm no, some get huffy and angry, some get violent. That's just the surface problems I've dealth with. It's difficult, and painful, and to me it's just a job I can step away from at the end of the day, especially since I'll be able to find work in other medical fields when I've completed my studies.

Yes these are people who deserve all the kindness in the world. But I won't lie, the quality of life for someone who's only way of communicating is crying and hitting people is not a kind life. They don't get to live lives where they can just go on vacation, and see new places on their own. They can't start a normal job. They can't start a family. Half the people I work with haven't seen their relatives in years, or are only visited for an hour or two every week. They see people having relationships and having relations in movies, and with their caretakers of family, but they can never have that. Most of the ones who've tried to touch me, or claimed I'm their wife, or girlfriend did it because that's what they see but don't understand what it actually means. I've dealt with disabled people who were victims of extreme abuse not just from family and strangers, but also people in my work field, who're traumatized but don't have the ability to work through properly because it's already difficult for them to just getting through their days. They have their happy moments, but most of all of this happens in an incredibly small social circle, with strict routines, where only other disabled people exist, and they don't even get the chance to be part of "normal" society. We workers are literally trained to "deal" with these people, sure we're also there for socializing, but most of us are also literally just a resource, we're not a friend, or a family member, we're workers.

Some of the places I've been at are more like a 24/7 kindergarten, with a huge lack of funding and manpower. You won't believe how many times we've struggles trying to help people during extreme and violent meltdowns, all because we're understaffed. The job also lacks male workers, which means it's harder to help with any male patients who voice feeling uncomfortable being helped by women. Do you know how incredibly painful it is to see the shame on someone's face who's more abled to voice this discomfort, but still not able to care for himself and needs help with, to us, basic things such as putting on clothes, or taking showers?

People like this "friend" annoy me, because they idealize the idea of having a heavily developmentally disabled child. They see people with more "mild" cases, or self-sufficient disabled people, but ignore everyone living in cramped disabled "communes" or under poverty and high levels of abuse.

--

Children, animals, causes: a lot of people romanticize the idea of taking on more than you can handle. It's not romantic. It's just irresponsible.

[exhaslo]

Kinktober Day 29- Grimmjow x Reader: 7 Min in Heaven

Summary: You decided to join your college classmates in a mid-term party and end up playing a game of 7 min in heaven...with you crush.

Warning: MINORS DNI, some smut, fingerings, groping

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

The moment you arrived at the party, you felt the instant regret.

You had already thought it was strange for your friend Harribel to invite you to one of these parties. The Espada gang were known as rebels on the college campus. You knew Harribel from study group, and you sadly came to know the others.

"You could have said no," Harribel muttered to you as she welcomed you inside. You could feel a cold sweat down your neck,

"How could I? This is the first time I'm uh-" You tensed up as the other Espada were chugging drinks, "I've been invited to one of these."

"I'd rather keep you away from these pests."

"Hm?"

You were confused. Wasn't Harribel the one who invited you here? Right as you were going to ask her, a familiar man approached you.

"Surprised ya came," Grimmjow grumbled.

Your cheeks flushed as you tried to respond to the crude man. Grimmjow had, like most girls, stolen your heart. The blue haired Espada had a unique charm under his rude attitude. Harribel had warned you about him, but it was hard to take in her warnings.

"C'mon, we're bout to play a game." Grimmjow grabbed your wrist, pulling you towards the center of the room.

"Haha! Go into the closet you two!" Nnoitra snickered towards two others, whom weren't Esapada.

"Huh? What game is this?" You questioned then saw the bottle, "W-Wait, I'm not sure-"

"It'll be fine," Grimmjow grumbled as he sat you down. Harribel was close by, being your guardian.

You were nervous as you watched the bottle spin. You had just arrived and were definitely not drunk enough for this. Plus, you did not know a lot of these people. You had only seen them in passing and it was awkward already with you there.

You held your breathe as the bottle landed on you. Of course. What were the odds of this happening. Watching the bottle spin again, you felt nervous. Which one of these people were you going to be stuck in an awkward situation with?

"Tch, lucky bastard," Nnoitra grumbled as the bottle landed on Grimmjow, "To the closet!"

Your heart could not stop racing as you were pulled into the closet by Grimmjow. You could hear Harribel complaining, but the door was already closed and you were right against Grimmjow's chest.

"Glad ya came," Grimmjow whispered, his hands sliding up your body, stopping against your cheeks, "Ya can push me away any time."

You nearly shuddered as you left Grimmjow's lips against yours. His soft whisper sounding almost nothing like him, but still as sexy. Closing your eyes, you melted into the kiss. His lips warm against yours as his tongue started to slide against your lips.

You were hesitant. After all, this man was your crush and he had just started kissing you without a first date. Despite your reasoning, you parted your lips and allowed Grimmjow access.

His tongue abruptly entered your mouth, exploring every inch. You gripped onto his shirt as Grimmjow pinned you against the wall. His hands gripping your waist as he stole every whimper and whine you tried to make.

Every now and then, Grimmjow would give you a moment to breathe before capturing your lips in another devouring kiss. You were starting to get light headed as he kept going. The more he kissed you, the more you felt fuzzy.

Grimmjow's hands roamed up from your waist to your chest. He slid under your shirt and started to grope your breasts, giving them a good feel. You wanted to whine, but you were starting to feel good.

"I'm gonna keep this," Grimmjow whispered as he undid your bra and stuff it into his pocket.

Men and their pockets. Lucky bastards.

Right as you were going to complain, Grimmjow kissed you again. This time, his hands were playing with your bare breasts, pinching your nipples and massaging them.

Your body started to feel fuzzy as you grew hot. Your panties were getting wet as you started to imagine how much more Grimmjow would do to you. His hands being so rough against your breasts while he ravished your mouth.

Breaking the kiss, you gasped for air before Grimmjow attacked your neck. He licked, nibbled and sucked against your neck, hunting for a sweet spot. You made a sharp gasp once he found it, causing you to get wetter.

As Grimmjow sucked against that spot, you covered your mouth, trying to keep quiet. Grimmjow took the opportunity to slide one hand down your pants. Yours eyes widen as you arched forward slightly as his fingers rubbed against your clit.

"Mhm~!" You moaned quietly.

"Yer enjoyin' this too," Grimmjow smirked as he felt your body twitch against him, "Shame we only got a minute left,"

Realizing that time was almost up, you whined. You gripped onto Grimmjow as his fingers kept rubbing and pinching your clit while the other did the same to your nipple. You could feel your pussy crave to be filled.

"Grimmjow," You pleaded.

Like music to his ears, Grimmjow withdrew his hands, licking his fingers clean. You were panting softly, feeling unfulfilled as he stopped his advances.

"Don't worry yer lil head. I invited ya to this party, I'm gonna make sure ya have a good time."

Surprised, you wanted to ask him if this was his plan, but the door opened. There was a slight look of disappointment on the others faces, since it seemed like they wanted to catch you in the act. Grimmjow just smirked and grabbed your hand.

"We talked bout it, and this shit blows. We're gonna party elsewhere."

"Where?" Harribel questioned with a hiss. You felt your cheeks burn as you glanced at Grimmjow,

"My place,"

"Ya heard her, fuck off."

Shuddering at the thought, you followed Grimmjow as the two of you left the house.

"Grimmjow...Did you rig the bottle?" You finally asked. Grimmjow glanced towards you, smirking,

"How else was I supposed to make out with ya?"

"Asking?"

"Ha!" Grimmjow burst into a fit of laughter before picking you up, "Yer fuckin' cute. Glad to know that yer mine now."

And Grimmjow made sure to make every part of your body his.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hope you enjoyed!!!

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

[icarusflewsworld]

Rhysand & Cassian & Azriel X OC

Hello, here is the chapter 4 of a fanfiction on the world of Acotar where our three favorite Batboys are the mates of a single woman.

I hope you like it! Don't hesitate to let me know if you prefer the OC to become y/n and/or gender neutral.

Also, I apologize for any mistakes you might find, I'm just a French girl doing her best with Google Translate and her average score of 5 in English classe.

! Don't forget to read the previous chapters ! : Here

Happy reading!

Chapitre 4

Luxiana laughed silently as she made an apologetic face at the three Illyrians, asking them silently to forgive Nesta's behavior. 

They sat down around the table, leaving Tamlin's sleeping body on the ground, which Lucien and Feyre had gently put his back against a wall, waiting for him to wake up. Nesta had taken her place at the end of the table, and Elain at her side soon found herself facing Lucien. Feyre positioned herself at the redhead's side and Rhysand, to Feyre's dismay, took his place beside her. Cassian and Azriel sat in front of them, with Luxiana at the end of the table between Rhys and Cassian.

Dinner was very tense. Nesta didn’t stop throwing cutting remarks at Feyre and Lucien defended her, although he was quieter with Elain, to whom he only gave blushing glances. 

As for Cassian, Rhysand and Azriel, who understood nothing of the animosity between the sisters, remained silent, not caring how Feyre was treated or what had happened to them. That said, giving sideways glances at the pretty blonde at their side, the three Illyrians could see that she’d lowered her head. Their soulmate seemed saddened by the quarrel between the three Archerons, and this was what made them curious and wanting to know more about the situation. 

Azriel tried to find out more and Elain vaguely explained that they didn’t take care of Feyre when they should have. Cassian was irritated to see the situation impact his soul mate, so he wasn’t able to restrain himself from throwing bad remarks at the viper who was their host. Rhysand, as a good high lord, had to contain his anger despite wanting to do the same as Cassian, and so, he deviates the conversation to the subject of the queens, the meeting and the letter he would like to send them. 

Luxiana kept her eyes focused on her plate, her head bowed, her eyes sad. She didn’t listen to any of the conversation, her thoughts still focus on what Feyre told her she'd been through in the past few months. She was sad, and she knew she couldn't totally hide her sadness when she raised her head from time to time to pretend to listen to the sisters' words, but she couldn't stop her heart from breaking. She had let Feyre suffer. She failed to protect her despite the fact that Feyre saved her life. She couldn't make the same mistake again. She couldn't let Feyre go back on the other side of the wall. At least, not alone. 

“Write the letter to the queens, Elain and I will go post it tomorrow. We're leaving,” said Nesta, rising from the table with an air of disdain that allowed Luxiana to shake her head and come back to herself. “Luxiana will show you your rooms.” 

They both disappeared, allowing the atmosphere in the room to lighten a little. 

Feyre turned a somewhat shocked gaze on Luxiana, realizing something. “Do you live here?”

Luxiana nodded, smiling. “They offered it to me when they realized I was sticking to them all the time. Besides, I'd almost settled here in spite of them anyway, so it was easier to keep an eye on them.”

“Wow,” exclaimed Cassian with shining eyes, “you've managed to charm that viper?” 

He was undoubtedly talking about Nesta, which caused Luxiana to burst out laughing uncontrollably. 

Cassian began to feel pride swell in his chest at the hilarity he had provoked in the blonde. Azriel couldn't believe her ears. How was it possible to have such a melodious laugh and look so beautiful? Rhysand had to hold on to the table with both hands, his whole body tickling. 

“Do you doubt my capacity for seduction, Commander of the Armies? I can charm anyone when I want to,” Luxiana said with a smirk, winking at the brunette with the red siphons.

Cassian had to brace himself to keep the member between his thighs from swelling. This woman was his soul mate, damn it, he could feel it in his bones, in his heart, under his skin. 

Azriel felt a wave of jealousy and anger devour him from the inside. He didn't want her to charm anyone, just him, and she'd already succeeded very well.

Cassian was his best friend, but Rhysand could have sworn he'd have ripped his skin off if he wasn't also his soulmate's mate.  

“You haven't changed a bit,” exclaimed Feyre.

“What?” smiled Luxiana, already knowing full well what her best friend was going to say.

“Stop flirting with everyone,” mocked Feyre. 

The three brothers couldn't help but tense up even more, gritting their teeth. They really didn't like hearing that their mate had already flirted with men before them. They felt even more irritated than before. Although Cassian's ego took a whack at the understanding that she didn’t only flirt with him and that he has then nothing special, his disappointment was rapidly replaced by sharp anger and all-consuming frustration. Azriel had the irrational urge of wanting to find her previous lovers and rip off their hands, eyes and tongues. Rhysand had to restrain his power to explode around him and kill every man in the land because some of them had once laid eyes on his soul mate. 

No matter how much they tried to reassure themselves that this woman was far too charming to have never had a relationship before, the idea that other men had already laid hands on her seemed to plunge them into an incomprehensible rage. They were so jealous that it made them feel as if they were being torn into a thousand little pieces. It was a completely strange, crazy and incoherent sensation. Illyrians were possessive, but the way they were with that girl although they didn't even know her was already far too insane. As if they could feel more emotions than before... As if… As if their feelings were multiplied by three. 

***

Luxiana gave a room to Feyre, who hoped to be joined by Tamlin during the night, and left Lucien in another room with a polite smile. 

“Are the three of you going to sleep together?” asked Luxiana, opening the door to the largest room in the house to allow the Illyrians access.

“Yes, as we don't know the place, it would be safer for us to stay together,” replied Rhysand. 

The three brothers entered the room, examining it from floor to ceiling, then turned back to the blonde unable to take their eyes off her for too long.

“Unless you invite me to sleep in your room,” Cassian whispered seductively to the blonde.

Luxiana returned his expression. She really wasn't intimidated by Cassian or his obvious way of flirting with her, and he loved it. 

“My room's at the end of the corridor, you can sleep there if you want, but unfortunately I won't be there tonight.” 

The three Illyrians froze, tensing their muscles, trying to hide their irritation. Why the hell wouldn't she be in her room tonight? Whose room would she be in?  

“Are you leaving?” questioned Azriel, frowning and gritting his teeth.

“Indeed, I must...” Luxiana began hesitantly, “...go and do something.”

“In the middle of the night?” grumbled Rhysand, squinting with incomprehension. “What kind of thing do you have to do?”

The blonde lowered her eyes for a second, her empty gaze shining with a glint of sadness. “The kind of thing that's not going to do me any good if you ask me, but... I've got things to elucidate before…”

She shook her head before saying too much. She didn't know if she could trust them, and anyway, what she was going to do with her life, how much she wanted to protect Feyre or the goodbyes she was going to give tonight were none of their concern.

Rhysand, Cassian and Azriel didn't like this at all. Luxiana remained mysterious about her occupations and distorted by a bitter taste of jealousy on their palates and a vice in their guts, they felt like they had a bad feeling. They really didn't like it.

“Isn't it dangerous for humans to walk alone in the streets in the middle of the night, especially for a woman as pretty as you?” asked Cassian, clasping his hands behind his back so he could clench his fists without her noticing.

Luxiana shrugged mockingly. “It is, but I'm in a good mood today, I shouldn't be attacking anyone.” 

Cassian smiled for a second, he loved her confidence, but he soon lost it. He and his brothers were no longer in the mood for laughter either. 

“Will you be alone?” asked Azriel in a much colder intonation than he would have liked. 

Luxiana squinted and gritted her teeth, shivering. Part of her didn't like the tone, but another thought it was far too sexy. “You three do ask a lot of questions,” she remarked suspiciously as she crossed her arms, forcing herself to scowl. She didn't understand their curiosity or the point of all their questions, and then suspiciously thought they were trying to get some compromising information.

Azriel's anger buzzed in his ears. Why was she being so secretive about her destination and intentions? Was she meeting another man? Someone she would love more than him and who already took his heart? He gritted his teeth. 

The irritating mix of feelings Cassian was trying to contain as best he could was insane. He couldn't stop the flow of anger and frustration inside him. He knew all these questions were intrusive, especially for people who didn't know each other, and he didn't want to sound indiscreet, but damn it, it was killing him not to know where she was going or what she was going to do.

Rhysand held back a grimace as he noticed the young woman's discomfort and realized they'd gone much too far, “Let's just say we don't want anything to happen to a woman as charming as you coming to our aid.”

Luxiana had to lower her eyes and head for a moment, biting her tongue to stop herself from blushing. She didn't believe his concern for a second, but the way he'd tilted his head and leaned forward toward her with a piercing gaze had the merit of warming her cheeks.

She raised her head with a confident look, forcing herself to appear self-assured “Your concern is touching, but don't worry, I'm used to it. I'll be back at dawn. Have a good night.”  She wasted no more time, going out of the room, and closing the door behind her, leaving shocked and angered Illyrians there.

Rhysand, Cassian and Azriel said nothing more, standing with swinging arms in the middle of the room. Each of them struggled with the irrational urge to follow their soulmate, whom they barely knew, to make sure she was all right and didn't go off with another man.

“We should follow her,” Azriel gave up first.

“No, we can't penetrate into her intimacy like that,” Rhysand remarked reluctantly, his own insides making him pay. He needed so much to follow her, to touch her, to feel her. His whole body was burning all over, clamoring to be near her, but he knew full well it was overstepping his rights and interfering in her privacy. “She said she was used to it, so there's no reason for us to worry.”

“Speak for yourself I've got a whole bunch of reasons running through my head right now,” Cassian retorted with a worried look, his breathing suddenly panting. He plopped down on the bed and rested his forearms on his thighs, despite one of his legs jumping up and down in a hurry. “It's been months since we haven’t seen you smile, Rhys. Ever since you came back, you've been like a ghost, but there, in front of her, you gave the impression of being you again, of being alive again.”

Rhysand didn't answer, his gaze still focused on the door where his soulmate had just left him. He knew his brother was right. This woman was his mate, and the burst of life she had awakened in his chest was doing him a world of good. He felt alive again. Ever since he'd laid eyes on her, Rhysand was breathing. He was breathing, for God's sake. She'd given meaning to everything he'd experienced. Everything. He didn't even know her yet, and yet the mere words he'd exchanged with her had already filled him with excitement. 

Azriel also detailed Rhysand. Cassian was right, Rhysand hadn't behaved like this since he'd returned. The Illyrian with the blue siphons was very worried about his brother and what he must have gone through under the mountain. It pleased him to see that Rhysand seemed to be coming back to life a little thanks to this girl, but it drove him crazy with rage because he too felt alive thanks to her. He would always sacrifice his happiness for his brother's, especially after what one of them has been through for fifty years, even if it made him tired to have to do it, he'd have done it. He would have left his brother the woman he loved. But here, with her, his soul mate, he simply couldn't think of not having her, even if it was at his brother's cost. She was his. 

Cassian looked at his two brothers in turn. He could almost read their minds and know what they wanted. Luxiana. She was their soulmate. He knew they felt strange things for this girl, something beyond simple attraction because he felt the same way they did. This woman intrigued them. Her mind and body reacted in a thousand ways in her presence. Hell, there was no doubt about it. Especially not the way her body tingled whenever she laid eyes on him, or the way his mouth burned with the desire to taste her. And it wasn't just physical; Cassian had already been physically attracted to a woman and it had never disturbed him so much. Even now, with Luxiana gone, he still thought of her and his muscles burned with the desire to pursue her. She was everything and the only thing he and his brothers wanted, because she was their soulmate. 

“What if she's going to join another man?” growled Azriel, mad with rage and jealousy at the thought, his teeth clenched so tightly it was hurting him. 

Cassian growled as he clenched his fists, his jealousy tearing at his stomach. 

Rhysand felt the same, but his good conscience was stronger for the moment. “It's her life. We can't stop her from doing what she wants.” His words burned his tongue.  Hell, he wanted to give up and join her, but it feels so wrong. 

“We're not stopping her from doing anything, we're just making sure she doesn't get hurt,” Cassian said as he gripped the edge of the mattress, squeezing the sheets between his fists. What he just said was only part of the truth. He also wanted to make sure she didn't join another man tonight. He couldn't help it. 

Azriel was shaking, an image of a man touching that fragile little woman to hurt her emerging in his mind. “Stay here if you like, I'm going.” He threw himself at the door to open it and step out of the room.

That was all Cassian and Rhysand needed to follow him. The three of them made themselves invisible and ran silently towards Luxiana. They caught up with her in the entrance hall. They winced as they watched her rush out of the house without even putting on a coat or grabbing a cloth to cover her arms. 

Luxiana stepped into the biting cold of the night and headed for the stable to pick up a horse. When she'd seen Feyre in the house, she'd forgotten how she'd frozen to death this morning fulfilling yet another mission Kaden had given her, and how she'd promised herself to take a coat the next time she went out.

The cold was brutal this evening, but Luxiana, because of her guilt over what had happened to Feyre, accepted the wind's bite on her face and arms as a deserved punishment. Her best friend had suffered far worse under the mountain because she'd been too stupid to trust herself and that she hadn't gone to make sure she was okay. 

Rhysand, Cassian and Azriel followed her, flying at a distance as silently as possible, but worry, anger and jealousy made their bodies hum loudly. Such a fragile little human should not be wandering out alone in the dark night in such cold temperatures without any protection. From where they stood, they could see her arms and face reddened by the temperature in the negative, and notice her limbs shaking violently.

Cassian had to fight with every cell in his being that urged him to throw himself at her to warm her up and bring her back to the Archerons' abode. He didn't like the idea that she had someone so important to see that was so worth putting her life on the line for. He didn't like the fact that she hadn't even thought of taking a coat. He didn't like the fact that she hadn't wanted to tell them where she was going. And fuck, he didn't like the tugging, aching sensation of his body which just wanting to take her in his arms.

Azriel was angry. She should have brought a coat. She needed to be punished for going out so late, especially if it was to join another man, so the cold was an excellent way to do it for her. But damn, it was so crazy and reckless for a young woman to be walking around half-naked in a frozen landscape. It meant that the person she was joining was more important than her own life, and the idea that it might be a man drove Azriel mad with rage. If that were the case, he'd burn every inch of this man's skin that had come into contact with his soul mate and he would make her watch.

Rhysand was worried. Humans got sick very easily. She could become seriously ill from this cold. His soul mate. His fragile, human, little soul mate. He was already so worried about her when she wasn't even his yet. A part of him - which he didn't even know how his good conscience still managed to fight - just wanted to kidnap her and lock her up in his house, where she'd be safe, cherished and loved. But he knew she wouldn't be happy, not by being forced into a place against her will. And it was knowing his soul mate was happy that mattered most to Rhysand.

Suddenly, in the blink of an eye, Luxiana disappeared. The three Illyrians froze in mid-air for a moment, before rushing down to the place where they last saw her. They put their feet down, looking in all directions, hoping to catch a glimpse of her, but she had vanished.

“What the hell?” panicked Cassian, spinning around in circles, trying to catch a clue to the disappearance of his soul mate. 

Rhysand's heart pounded in his chest and a ball of anguish crushed his gut as he prayed that nothing bad had happened to his soul mate. 

Azriel managed to keep a controlled calm, or rather a controlled panic. He noticed the footprints of the horse his soul mate took, which were still very much present in the icy white layer of the ground, despite the thick snowflakes that were falling. 

Their visibilities were reduced, but the tracks Azriel could see showed him that his soul mate had turned off to the side in one fell swoop, leaving the road and entering the dense forest ahead. 

“This way,” he told his brothers in a voice louder and sharper than necessary, a voice filled with anger and uncertainty. 

They threw themselves body and soul into the wood, following the horse's footsteps and chasing their soulmate to make sure she was all right. But the forest was too dense, the trees too close together, the grass far too tall for them to follow the trail properly and quickly, and above all, there were other tracks everywhere. Animals that had passed by and were unintentionally blurring the trail. All that, until they totally lost the track of their soulmate.

Worry, anger, guilt and frustration made them tremble. How could they lose track of her so stupidly? They felt so dumb. Their mate !

They searched everywhere for hours and hours, but they hadn't found her. Not even in the next village, where Rhysand had searched everyone's minds to see if anyone had seen her, but she had simply disappeared. 

In the end, they resigned themselves to returning to the Archerons' home, their only hope being that she knew where she was going, what she was doing and, above all, that she would come back safe.

[universalzones]

Belle wondered if everyone else could keep their calm when returning to base. Lanolin did have a bit more control on this end since she was physically here, though was sure it'd be harder to properly control them from the other side of GUN's check point. The tinkerer did take noticed to the sheep's expression. "I think it's a good idea. I mean, now GUN will have to worry about being hit from two sides so hopefully it'll make them far less likely to attack us."

"Though it's hard to say for sure as from what I know about GUN they seem pretty all over the place when it comes to things." Belle honestly thought GUN was a complete mess in any situation, though this time they seemed far more organized. The tinkerer could only assume it was because of this mysterious commander which made her wonder just who they were and what they wanted.

"Though maybe we should focus on catching up with Sonic and Surge. I don't like doubting Sonic, though if we're all at the check point it should help him better keep his cool seeing as he wouldn't do anything to endanger anyone." Belle had no doubt Sonic was fine putting his own life in danger, though he always put others above himself. The tinkerer did feel using this logic against him rather dirty.

"I shall, though let us hope the commander doesn't attempt to undermine that choice. I shall leave you to focus on the situation down there." Blaze would stop the connection and then flag the airship to talk to the commander once more. With any luck hopefully the feline could now put some pressure back on him.

One of the Mother Wisp's eyes would look at Maggie, growing softer sensing her worry for her friend so would speak to her directly. "✋︎⧫︎ ♓︎⬧︎ □︎🙵♋︎⍓︎ ●︎♓︎⧫︎⧫︎●︎♏︎ □︎■︎♏︎📪︎ ♑︎□︎ ♍︎♒︎♏︎♍︎🙵 □︎■︎ ⍓︎□︎◆︎❒︎ ♐︎❒︎♓︎♏︎■︎♎︎ ♋︎■︎♎︎ ♒︎♏︎●︎◻︎ ♒︎♏︎❒︎ ♌︎♏︎ ♋︎⧫︎ ♏︎♋︎⬧︎♏︎📬︎ ✋︎ ⬧︎♒︎♋︎●︎●︎ 🙵♏︎♏︎◻︎ ❍︎⍓︎ □︎⬥︎■︎ ♋︎■︎■︎□︎⍓︎♋︎■︎♍︎♏︎ ◆︎■︎♎︎♏︎❒︎ ♍︎□︎■︎⧫︎❒︎□︎●︎📪︎ ⍓︎♏︎⧫︎ ♎︎□︎ ⧫︎♏︎●︎●︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎❍︎ ✋︎ ⬧︎♒︎♋︎●︎●︎ ♋︎⧫︎⧫︎♋︎♍︎🙵 ♓︎♐︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎⍓︎ ♋︎⧫︎⧫︎♋︎♍︎🙵 ❍︎♏︎📬︎"

The President of GUN? Lanolin's eyes seemed to shift and turn rapidly as her brain was running at high speed. GUN had no president but, then they worked for the United Federation of Nations. They did have a president and they were elected officials with alot of power. Before the war they made plenty of moves to make the world safer, but everyone always suspected that they never knew what GUN was up to. She had no idea that the former president from before the War was still in power--- she thought it all fell apart but it seemed that wasn't the case.

" The President of the United Federation of Nations... before the War they were the head of the ruling body here on Mobius. They were an elected offical, but that all fell apart after the war started. I heard they went into hiding, and supplied alot of support to the Resistance at the time. But no one has heard much since the war ended... if its really the president... that complicates things..."

The sheep felt less inclined to fight back now, she understood that GUN was muscling in but! If the President was indeed making this move, they were the nationally elected leader. How could they stand against them? it didn't feel right to her and yet--- they hadn't fought in the war had they? she was conflicted.

Her thoughts broke as one of the soldiers ran up to her holding out a communications device.

" Commander! Coms is back! we even have access to the outside... i have no idea how or how long it will last..."

Lanolin took the device and paused clearly conflicted on how to move forward. If the president was alive, and well she had no intention of going against them. But until she had proof of that it was best to stay the course until she had further information.

" Attention all Restoration Units! This is Unit Commander Lanolin speaking! all Restoration forces are to return to base, form an active perimeter around HQ! Do not engage with GUN forces! but maintain your position until you receive further orders! To any GUN forces listening to this--- We are Restoration! and until i have orders to stand down from a superior officer i will defend this position! you have been warned! "

She released the button from the side of the device and looked somewhat apprehensive. She didn't know if that was the right call and now questioned her position. Her eyes went to Belle as if asking if she did the right thing.

" Blaze... can you send a message to the GUN airship... Tell them if the United Federation President wants us to stand down. He has only to contact me directly... and Gaia i hope i'm doing the right thing..."

Maggie meanwhile remained close to the Mother Wisp knowing she could better direct her rage if she needed to. Yet she could sense Lanolins Distress and hoped everything was alright down below. Still she remained at her post, like a good solider she knew she had a to be part of this offensive if it came to it.

It seemed things were coming to a head fast... this might all end in an explosive confrontation!

[spikezonebby]

this time i do have horny stuff for you. bad month to have the idea in but oh well. I have this strange HC that Cybertronians are really sensitive in certain parts, for example, a Seeker's wing tips, or just any Cybertronian's spark chamber.

So I had this idea. A human builds a device, basically a fucking rose toy but more hidden. Calls the poor test subject Transformer over and asks them to open their chassis, put the device on their spark chamber, and fucking turns it on. Basically its like putting a vibrator on their clit....

Listen Ghosty we don't worry too much about no-nut-november around here. We're around for a good time not a long time. Heads up, this one got away from me.

Sex toys, spark chamber stimulation, and orgasm denial under the cut! Also a little KOBD with Knocks being a menace. Do I also tag pet humans? It's mentioned once. Eh not gonna tag it, it's not worth hunting for if you're into it lol

Now the *spark chamber* being sensitive? Oh that's a fun one. I thought about the spark because duh, spark merging. But the chamber? Kinda makes sense when you think about it because you gotta know when your important internals are being harmed.

The idea of sticking a rose vibrator on one of them though is hilarious lmao imagine if it's someone like Prowl or Shockwave with a huge chassis so they *can't reach it to take it off.*

What are some other Cybertronians with big chassis that wouldn't be able to reach it? Breakdown probably. TFP Predaking? Predaking is hilarious too because he's so HUGE can you imagine him trying to scrape his huge servos over his chamber to knock it off and he keeps missing it?

There's a size element here too because this could be good on *anyone* huge. TFP Megatron with a mischievous pet human that stuck it on him when he was recharging and it's not strong enough to get him off but it is strong enough for him to notice it.

All the time.

For hours on end.

And he's got big servos, he probably can't even pinpoint exactly where it is! Even worse if it's someone who just keeps turning it off and on periodically.

On the note with Breakdown I feel like-- if you follow me for kobd reasons-- Knocks would love torturing poor BD with it. He already thinks the humans have good tastes in horror movies and cars, he can probably appreciate their ingenuity when it comes to sex too. Plus, he seems like the type to think a rose vibrator would be cute. He'd display his sex toys as little art pieces around his room.

So Breakdown definitely gets one stuck on his spark chamber where he can't reach it. Maybe this is Knock Out's way of revving his conjunx up for some rough interfacing that night? On the occasion Knocks does want to get knocked around by BD, he's gotta properly wind him up first so Breaks can just ENTIRELY ruin him.

Or accidentally make BD overload like six times throughout the day. Knocks is having fun anyway.

[kandadze]

Ep 27 loose thoughts

Well, that's one way of snapping someone shell-shocked out of making a drastic decision. I feel like PSJ snapped something in herself at this moment, too. Anyone else found the ancestor's commentary going on in the background while the girls are bawling their eyes out hilarious? Just me? Okay.

While I was waiting for the ever burning wood to activate or something, the moment WX opened the box to reveal dried flowers I choked. ZYC!!!

Baby!Yichen breaks my heart, so impressionable, so open to learn. It's interesting to see that the phrases about suffering we've seen him use as an adult might have come from WX... Not a fan of telling people in mourning to stop dwelling in misery and sadness like it's as simple as flipping a switch (not to mention, she apparently *just* met him for the first time? The heck?), but at least the rest of her words seem to have helped him... so much that he kept the flowers 😭 The irony of her snow metaphor contrasted with their current predicament is indeed exquisite, A+ for that.

Are they going to be saved by the power of lurrrrve??? (At least this time. Still holding out for how that's gonna play out in the finale.) I mean, what other way to sway an ancient creature who's seen pretty much everything there is to see, than to show them something new? What's that? A test for a future event? (I'm getting really paranoid about nothing we've seen so far being real. It's like Alice in Wonderland on a bigger scale. Or Finnegans Wake on a smaller scale. I don't know.)

Oooh Bingyi and Ying Long, our original doomed couple (of self-sacrificial idiots)! I would watch a whole drama just about them. And damn, I can definitely see where Zhao Yuanzhou got his masochism from. Stoppppp not "Just let me be the first star"! (Especially since I just remembered ZYZ's "I'll be the rain...") It's not supposed to be literal! 😭😭😭 Ahhhh this scene just broke me, also because it seems to reinforce the idea that ZYZ *has* to be killed for the greater good. The visualssss in the execution- sacrifice? What the heck do I even call it?- scene though, soooo good!

"Let me do it myself." LET ME DO IT MYSELF??? FUCKKKKKKK DAMNIT HE JUST- ::head in hands, crying forever::

"Remember. This is my choice, not yours. You don't have to bear any blame or guilt." That's not how that works. That's not how any of that works!

Again, we're dealing with choices. But the fact that ZYZ choice was the same as Ying Long's... the fact that YL says that neither he nor Bingyi had any regrets... oh this is going to hurt.

Oh? ZYZ's future is not what he wants? (And wouldn't that be funny, considering ZYZ's own words while schooling ZYC in the very first ep... 9 times out of 10, things don't go our way?)

"You two are really like us." 😭😭😭

I was wondering if they were going to show us what ZYC saw, and not only does the image of ZYZ's body on that dark floor mirror Ying Long's body floating in the water, both ZYZ and ZYC wear the same clothes as in the very few scenes from the trailer that didn't happen yet... These poor sods, they've been Going Through It for almost a decade now with the only end in sight being yet another tragedy (even if the drama seems to suggest that they don't see it that way at this point.) ::head in hands, crying continues::

"My friend is here. We'll go together." The *sound* I made. Everything else this drama has given me aside, the growth of these characters and their bonds is so well done, and absolutely precious to me.

I want Ying Long's hopes and wishes for them to become true. Seeing how there's hints everywhere in this drama, I hope the words of one of the most powerful beings in existence will count for *something* in the end! (Am I grasping at straws? Maybe. Let me be delusional for a bit longer.)

What do you mean, five, ZYC? What's Ying Lei, chopped liver?

Oof this *almost* hug before WX starts feebly hitting ZYZ. It's relief, it's anger, it's fear for the next time, it's all the feelings that became too big to contain. I feel her so much. (I would've started whacking both him and ZYC way earlier tbh 😅) And ZYZ allowing her that release before pulling her in for reassurance, patting her as if she was a scared child. 😭 Cut to PSJ, looking as if she wanted nothing more but to be the one offering the reassurance to WX. Cut to ZYC, remembering that willingly or not, he's going to hurt WX beyond reassurance. Once again, the bonds in this drama!

Wait hold up hold on what? You just removed Bingyi's blood from him, that should mean that ZYC will not have to become a demon, right? So what's that about developing the inner core? (Also, I just realized that so far all they got from this trip was "go east and ask for a dragon scale" lol) Thankfully him and ZYZ had their conversation(s) about titles and identities so being asked to make that particular choice was not completely out of left field at this point. And all he cares about is whether that means that the last trace of Ying Long will disappear! 😭 (I'm so with Bingyi on this one... I would hold onto that last shred of my friend's existence, too, *especially* if they offed themself via my goddamn sword.)

What's with that look after he says that he thinks he has it - the inner core - is there a joke here somewhere? (I *gotta* go back to learning the language, the things I'm undoubtedly missing on!) The only thing I can think of is - did they think he said he's pregnant??? ::dies:: "So what's your true form?" "Must be dragon." "I say you're a mule." "Better than being a monkey." "I'm a white ape!" ::dies again:: Nice to see we still get a friendly ribbing between all of them, and I can breathe after all the angst. Fingers crossed? There's still 5 minutes left...

Oh good, let's talk about getting Bai Jiu back! (I knew there was one more character from the opening credits that didn't show up yet... guess it's the rebel princess.) While Ao Yin is eavesdropping! Talk about good hearing. Sigh, here it comes, another goal they have that will conflict with Li Lun's; they want the scale to restore the sword, and LL not only doesn't want that to happen, the scale could potentially help him get rid of the poison.

Oh for fuck's sake, I think I was subconsciously waiting for Chongwu Camp to show up, knowing that they've eavesdropped on the gang earlier, and here they are. ZYZ should really think of putting up some sound barrier when they discuss important plans, everyone seems to know exactly what they'll be doing at any given moment!

Ahhhh we're getting a nod to that little cough and stumble WX had shortly before this trip. Something's wrong with Baize token? Or with her connection to it? We only have 7 episodes left, drama!

(ZYC is such a good little brother.) Oh great, it was the rebel princess who killed WX's dad? I repeat, we only have 7 episodes left!

Sigh... with only 7 episodes left, we *also* find out that the goddamn 3-face-mask has history with the princess? And has everyone and their mother sat on that little bridge???

This feels like the endless final scenes in Peter Jackson's "Return of the King," my head is spinning.

Note to self, *stop* looking at previews. Ying Lei, what the absolute fuck?

[justlostinlove]

౨ৎ the sleepiest quest | percy jackson .ᐟ

pairing﹔bf!percy jackson x female!child of hypnos!reader sypnosis﹔requested here. warnings﹔fluff. use of y/n. she/her pronouns. probably not well proofread. purpose use of lowercase. lmk if i missed anything! word count﹔600+ // 5mins average reading time note﹔trying to get out of my writers block.... here's my first actual fic for this acc. lots of love xoxo muah

01 masterlist | 02 rules | 03 who i write for

percy impatiently paced in front of the hypnos cabin, tapping his fingers against the cap of his pen. the sun was barely rising and the air was still moist. he was supposed to meet his girlfriend to go on a quest — just a small and simple one, really. retrieve some magical artefact from a nearby forest, a quick in-and-out job. easy, right?

the only problem was that his girlfriend was nowhere to be found.

percy sighed and stood still, glancing over at the cabin where she was supposed to be. y/n was the daughter of hypnos, after all, so it wasn’t unusual for her to be… well, sleepy.

a few minutes later, the door of the cabin creaked open, and out came y/n. she looked exactly how percy had expected — her hair a tangled mess, her eyes half-lidded, and a big yawn escaping her lips. percy couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

“ready to go?” he asked, helping her fix her hair with the hair tie he had around his wrist.

y/n blinked slowly. “uh… what time is it?”

“early. we’ve got a mission to accomplish.” percy urged.

she let out a sleepy groan. “percy, i swear if you make me run a mile—”

“baby,” he interrupted, a teasing grin on his face. “it’s a simple mission. we’re literally just retrieving an artefact. nothing more, okay?”

her eyelids drooped again. “mmm… artefact. yeah, sounds good. let me just…” she trailed off mid-sentence and rested her head on her boyfriend’s chest. percy sighed, but honestly, he was used to this by now. his girlfriend was always sleepy, even after hours of rest. it was part of her charm, though it did make some quests quite.. interesting.

percy tapped her nose. “c’mon, we’re supposed to be saving the world, remember?”

"can’t save the world without a nap first," y/n’s eyes fluttered open, and she gave him a half-hearted yet sleepy smile. "and we're searching for an artefact, it's not the end of the world."

percy sighed, pecking her forehead. "you can’t sleep right now. we have an artefact to find, and we’re on a time crunch."

y/n parted her lips and let out a yawn so loud it almost made percy feel sleepy. "percy, i love you, but i really need a nap. you go ahead… i’ll catch up." she rubbed her eyes, as if she were preparing for the cosiest sleep of her life.

he gave her a pleading look, but y/n’s eyes were already drooping again. percy threw his hands up in a feigned frustration. “you’re impossible.”

but, despite his exasperation, he couldn’t help but smile. y/n was… well, y/n. daughter of hypnos. the sleepiest girl he knows. the love of his life. she couldn’t go on a quest without at least one nap along the way.

percy let his girlfriend lay against him and looked at the sky, the sun slowly rising. maybe he’d give her five more minutes — ten tops — before he dragged her on the quest whether she liked it or not. maybe he’d even let her nap while they travelled, though he’d probably end up carrying her the whole way.

"alright," he muttered under his breath, "i'll save the world while you take your nap, sleepy girl."

an almost incoherent murmur came from y/n’s lips, "mmm… you’re my hero, percy."

percy smiled, shaking his head. "yeah, yeah, just wake up before i fight a monster without you."

but for now, it seemed like the only monster he was battling this time was his girlfriend’s irresistible need to sleep. so much for saving the world.

©JUSTLOSTINLOVE 2024 | do not repost, copy, or translate any of my works to any platforms

[louisferrignojr]

gotta say that i disagree that nobody fights for buck. in s5 taylor said it best: buck's life is full of meaningful relationships, actually. every person of the firefam would fight for and support buck. he is and will never be alone again in his life, especially during the hard times (which they reiterated in 8x05). meanwhile, we see thus being contrasted with tommy not having any kind if support system like that. the same seemed to be the case for taylor. i know people want tommy to fight for this, and i agree that i definitely need him to check his trauma and fears to work this out with buck. but buck is the main character that has had seasons of alleged development. he died and came back, got clarity, was supposed to finally feel good in his own skin, worked out his childhood trauma with his parents in therapy, formed a support system, now discovered he is bisexual and felt free with it. and now tommy is the only one who should grovel? i get the idea but. evan buckley is the character we have seen grow and learn. i want him to put in the work as well. look at how he fought for his job when he thought he would lose it forever. THAT is what i need from him rn. if he is just giving this up with a shrug, then i don't want bucktommy in canon. we have seen tommy taking care of buck and supporting him in all his shenanigans. i need to see that buck is absolutely serious about this and ready to fight for it. if he doesn't, he still hasn't found his true love or still doesn't know what he wants in life. i am bored by this. we have been here multiple times already. do something else with evan buckley finally or just allow him to be a bachelor forever.

okay yes buck has meaningful platonic and familial relationships.

no romantic partner has fought for him. abby ghosted him because of her own issues even though she's a fucking grown ass woman, ali got a reality check and broke up with him when he was in recovery after nearly dying, which okay, fair enough. and while i believe taylor did nothing wrong in reporting the jonah story, the narrative wants us to think she prioritised her work, and she did betray buck's trust which, again, buck wanted to protect his firehouse (which is his family) so he wasn't being objective. reporters exposing scandals within govt orgs that are supposed to protect the public is not a bad thing, actually. the only time he's broken up with someone first is natalia and we were told it's because she was obsessed with his died-and-came-back experience.

and listen. i love tommy more than anything. but buck is still the main character. we're going to see buck going through the breakup, not tommy. we're not going to get much about tommy's past. we're not going to get any scenes with tommy and another character if buck isn't also there. you remember karen going to chimney and them day drinking together because they thought hen was being unfaithful (again)? i wish we could see tommy and chimney talking about their buckleys. but the way the show got rid of all minor characters and consistently treats LIs as nothing more than LIs... i'm not hopeful. we'll get one scene with tommy's Explanation and i'm not even hopeful it's gonna be well written (but i'm sure lou will be serving. god. they wrote such a shitty break up scene and he fucking ATE.)

yeah, buck fucked up by jumping the gun and asking tommy to move in with him when he couldn't even say the i love you, and i hope this will be addressed in future eps. but tommy immediately ended the relationship because he Knows Better and left buck heartbroken. this is what happened on the show. the average viewer isn't doing ten layers of analysis to understand tommy's perspective, nor should they have to. i love the metas, i'm digging into tommy's headspace in my next fix it fic, but this is still the dumb weewoo show.

i don't think tommy needs to grovel, i don't think he's the Bad Guy in this story, i have a lot of empathy for tommy and so does the GA! they're not mad at tommy, they want him back! they want bucktommy back! and i want them both to fight for each other, to apologise and admit to their fuck ups and admit how much they care about each other and that they want to be each other's forever love! i want them to say i love you!

but buck is still the protagonist in this story and i don't want to see him running back to someone who broke up with him in such a way that had him asking "wait, did you just break up with me?" because again, this is what happened on our screens. i want tommy making the first move, opening the door for reconciliation, showing that he knows he made a mistake out of fear from his past trauma, for buck to then know he is wanted, that tommy came back for him, and then put in the effort to fight for them.

hope this makes sense. and as always, for people reading this - this is not the space for you to bash on buck's previous LIs, please take it elsewhere.

[storiesbyrhi]

I am three chapters behind on AASB, but I know you know I like to fully absorb it, so I take my reading of it seriously. It's therefore hoarded until I'm in the right mindset with the right energy levels. So, I'm stoked I can read this in the meantime (though, I am also very late to reading this).

Already excited because credits to both @somnambulic-thing and Mike Flanagan can only produce something beautiful.

Okay, so, we're already on it. I think what makes your work so good is that while you deal with such complex themes and storylines, your imagery is so crisp and clear. Your descriptions always make so much sense that I don't have to work on understanding the scene in front of me. It paves the way for the depth of everything else.

"Is that what they feel?" your question echoed within him, radiating from the depths of the pit outwards, to the very tips of his talons and back. It shook him to the core. "Or is that what you feel?"

A wild Gabriel appears. As he is so prone to doing.

Okay the stolen Flanagan line fucking slaps here. Some lines just need to be stolen. I think about the goddamn Marvel Cinematic Universe giving us, "What is grief if not love preserving?" all the time.

Ooofff what an ending.

Well, by golly golly gosh, she's done it again.

Solamen. (An As Above, So Below Story)

Gratia. Charitas. Solamen. Grace. Charity. Peace. The oath of the Knights of the Holy Order.

Summary: You and Eddie--separated by time and endless suffering--don't realize how many strings keep you connected on the web of fate. What players are there trying to cut those strings? And when will you both find out that they are unbreakable?

Word Count: 8k

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Fem!OC (The Knight - Written in 2nd Person POV - You/Your - No Use of Names of Physical Descriptors)

Warnings/Themes: Soulmates, Kas!Eddie, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Grief, Minor Character Deaths, Manipulation, Transformation, Corruption, Violence, Gore, Disturbing Imagery, Philosophical Ideas, Supernatural Encounters, Religious Elements, Criticism of Religion, Biblical and Other Literary and Pop Culture References

Note: Special thanks to @somnambulic-thing for listen to me as I tied myself into a knot with all of my Pepe Silvia string and helping me untie it all. Love you so very much.

AND IM NOT GONNA TAG HIM BECAUSE HOW EMBARRASSING but thanks Mike Flanagan for the "a ghost is a wish" line that I absolutely ripped off.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

"That's just the heart talking, you can never trust those. Pick a more stable organ to listen to, like the spleen, or the gallbladder." - Joan Tierney

November 6, 1983

Eddie woke to something tugging at his leg, pinching the flesh between deft fingers, but not piercing the skin.

Then whispers.

Unintelligible whispers that moved about him fluidly, like a wave. Maybe it was a wave because a sudden flood of memories, both good and bad, rushed over him; nightmares perhaps? They almost didn't feel like they were even his, but he knew that they were.

Driving the van for the first time, his first campaign as a DM, your first kiss.

He felt as though he was underwater.

Underwater, something biting him, tear-filled words as he lay dying in the desolate waste of the Upside Down.

“Eddie, wake up,” you whispered frantically in his ear.

He heard his own voice then. Or a memory of it, at least.

I don’t like this Chrissy, wake up! Flashing lights, snapping bones, and a sickening wet crunch.

He gasped as his consciousness slammed into him heavily, the remnants of fear from his past life ripping through the din to bring him back to the waking world.

The memories of falling and crashing soon followed and he observed his surroundings.

A crater.

It was the only way to describe the pit he’d created upon impact. A large divot in the ground with a lip of toxic earth and his body curled at the bottom, and as he forced his body to crawl out of it, he saw the spray of soil that had rained over the surrounding landscape.

And what a strange landscape it was.

Empty.

There was nothing as far as the eye could see in any direction. Just a flat, silty plain and a roiling, lightning-filled sky.

There were no creatures, no trees...he couldn't even see Hawkins, which he recalled flying over before he'd been struck by, well, whatever that was that knocked him out.

He'd been soaring over treetops, calling out to the bats to join him.

How had he ended up in such a vast emptiness as this?

The whispers returned, a ripple of them that shifted and moved around him, the source invisible. He growled instinctively, hackles raised; was someone or something trying to intimidate him? The rebellious beings that turned against their master? Had they learned a new trick?

Or was this something else? He already had one invisible enemy, one pest that tried to undermine Henry at every turn. Was this trap by your design?

The whispers closed in on him--he could feel them even if he couldn't see them, in numbers immeasurable--and he roared in warning, spittle flying from his mouth as his jaw unhinged, and the chittering blast of sound echoed into the void space.

He startled when your lips caressed his ear and the weight of you settled against his back, arms winding around his neck to hold him back.

"We need to go," you warned him, but he just hissed at you.

The whispers got louder, closer. From the din, he started to make out voices. Familiar voices. More memories. Talking to him, begging him.

Chrissy at the picnic table.

Patrick calling him a freak in the hallway.

Mr. Newby excitedly telling him about a new stereo he saved up for a year to buy.

They all chanted his name, just like you did. It swirled around him.

Eddie, Eddie, Eddie help us. Please help us.

"Eddie listen to me," you tried again. "We need to go."

He roared again, and felt triumphant when the whispers went silent.

But there was one last whisper, one more phantom, that was bold. Brave. He felt it walk right up to him. Tall, proud, toe to toe, nose to nose; it stretched to match his height.

He growled to intimidate it but felt it square itself resolutely. You tightened your arms around his neck, almost to hold him back.

"Don't," you told him, but it was too late.

He slashed a claw outwards to try and bat the whispering phantom away. He cut through it and felt the whoosh of air between his talons.

And must have been a trick of the light, a trick of the mind--one of your tricks--but there was a flash of a reflection of his own eyes right before him. Staring into his soul.

He blinked and it was gone.

You tightened your grip, then sighed and sunk through him, into him, back into the pit once more.

He was about to gloat, about to taunt you--he wasn't Eddie Munson anymore, he wasn't going to fall for your little games--but it was cut short as a roar that rivaled his in strength and volume echoed from just beyond the horizon.

Determined, he took to the skies again, ready to put an end to whatever other tricks you orchestrated so he could return to his master, victorious.

November 14, 1986

When you came to, you were on the ground.

Not tied up or restrained in any way.

In fact, when you finally got a good hold of your senses, you realized you weren't wearing any clothes either.

"What the...what the fuck?" You startled yourself into a sitting position and looked down at your faded Maidenform bra and Hanes Her Way underwear that you got on clearance at K-mart with Eddie oh so long ago.

You jumped as he suddenly appeared before you--the anger at your unconsented state of undress forgotten--ghastly and ghostly, looking like he did when you jumped into the passenger's seat of the van. Smug smile, love in his eyes, hair mussed from too much headbanging.

"Did you get me anything?" his voice echoed. He wiggled his fingers like he had when he tried to peek inside of your plastic shopping bag, where you did indeed have candy for him.

You didn't even have a chance to wrench your eyes shut, so shocked that you were to see him there, before he vanished.

Your heartbeat roared in your ears as your breathing became rapid and shallow. Your eyes darted around to try and find him once again, as though he'd simply transmuted somewhere behind you--you were used to his vanishing acts...his unseen presence, but this? This was different—you knew that immediately—but found yourself alone.

Alone in a cold, dark room with only the moonlight above to illuminate the dirt floor and dead ivy that climbed the stone walls. You could hear the chittering of bugs and flapping wings of bats in the dark; creatures of unknown origin lurking in the darkness, waiting to strike.

You realized where you were rather quickly--

The vision that the boy had shown you. The cell. The Harrowing.

--and knew that you needed to find a way out immediately.

The witches had already gotten some sort of advantage by capturing you; you wouldn't let them kill you too. You would die on your own terms when you were good and ready.

You shifted to a kneeling position and reached down to let your hands scrape along the dirt floor. You cast yourself forward, consciousness seeping into the Earth to try and find a break in the stone. You knew there must be a door here...it was just too dark to see.

"Show me," you demanded.

"Show you?" Another voice rasped from the shadows. "What's the use when you refuse to look?"

It was not Eddie's voice this time, and pain lanced through your chest, directly into your heart as you recognized it.

Your eyes watered as you fought the urge to look up, as a figure leaned into the moonlight in the corner of your eye. Grey hair, weathered skin, a delicate golden crucifix around her neck. You knew your Nonna wasn't there; no, you watched them put her body behind a wall. Felt a part of her soul settle there, to rest, for eternity.

You didn’t look up, steeled yourself for the fact that even though it sounded like her, it couldn’t be her. She was gone. She was dead. As much as it pained you to acknowledge.

Nonna was gone. Eddie was gone. You were alone. And no one was going to save you here unless you saved yourself.

You shook and dug your fingernails into the dirt, demanding the very stone around show you the way out, all while Nonna's phantom spouted chastising words, about how you never listened to her when she told you to pray and repent and thank God for this and that.

"Your eyes can deceive you," you muttered aloud as a reminder. "Don't trust them."

Nonna inched closer and closer to you, and your breath hitched as you felt the softness of her hand as she reached out and cupped your cheek. You shut your eyes and leaned into it for a moment; it felt just like her hand.

Gentle but calloused from years of labor, you swore you even felt the indentation in her fingers from the beads of the rosary she usually had clutched in her hands.

Maybe if you wished hard enough…

"Tesoro…amore…prayer won't help you here," she tutted.

You grit your teeth in anger and clenched your hands, nails splintering against the hard ground. Your eyes opened to stare straight ahead of you into the darkness.

“My grandmother went and saw Star Wars with me in the theater, you know.” You spoke with as much confidence as you could muster. The softness of Nonna’s hand vanished, as did she. “She was well-versed in the ways of the Force.”

You stared into the darkness, unblinking, and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Finally the darkness broke and a heavy wooden door opened, creaking inwards towards you, until light cascaded into the cell and revealed a man with slicked-back hair and elfin features. His eyes were like fire as he stared down at you, hatred and challenge burned there.

“You’re stronger than you look,” he sneered judgmentally. “Many minds have been broken by this place.”

“What do they say about tv melting your brain?” you spat right back at him. "I've watched too much; my mind is already gone."

He chuckled darkly.

“I wouldn’t know such mortal mechanisms as…teevee.”

“Oh you’re one of those kinds of witches.”

“Warlock,” he corrected. He was one of those kinds of men too. You wondered, disgusted, if he stripped you of your clothes himself to get a kick of your potential humiliation. Or if even that was above him. “And what might you be?”

“I’m a pain in the ass,” you smiled mockingly. “You should have just slit my throat if you wanted to kill me. Or is that too much of a mortal mechanism too?”

He swiftly lowered himself to kneel in front of you, black clothes billowing, and grabbed your face in one hand. His sharp nails dug into your cheeks viciously, drawing blood if the telltale pinch was anything to go by.

You felt him pull truths from you, information ingrained in your blood--Jinette, the Knights, the curse, your mission, Edward Spellman. It might have alarmed you, how easily he was taking it, but it was such a simple trick.

Two could play at that game.

You watched and waited as his eyes became unfocused, as he lost control taking thoughts and memories from you. Then, when he was nice and distracted, you reared back and punched him across that sharp cheekbone and nose, putting all of your heavenly force into it.

He let go of you at the impact and fell to the side, but you got what you needed. A little bit of blood smeared across your knuckles.

And then you saw.

The man--Faustus Blackwood--the Church of Night, the Academy of Unseen Arts, the Witches of Greendale and their historic persecution, the Dark Baptisms. And at the epitome of it all...two figures standing head to head…

A roar outside the door of the cell broke you from your thoughts and you froze, knowing.

Blackwood abruptly got to his feet and spat blood at you as he sneered, "I would kill you for that...but you’re worth more alive than dead, unfortunately.”

He stormed out of the cell without any other hesitation, and you were alone again.

Waiting. Anticipating.

There was no need for intimidation tactics really, but he apparently had an affinity for drama.

He stepped into the light and you saw the cloven hoof on one leg, the very human-like torso draped in a billowing black cloak, and the goat-like head with ears that twitched as he laid his eyes on you.

You had to admit, your emotions spiked a little bit at the sight, and as the door to the cell slammed shut behind him. Fear, confusion, annoyance, and that ever-present feeling of grief.

Maybe those were just the things that made you up as a person. Instead of joy or anything l truly good. He brought them right to the surface; not like you could lie to him.

Well, you were probably not as afraid as you should have been. You knew that. And he did too, as you swore you heard a snort from him.

But it wasn't every day that you faced your fate.

It wasn't every day you found yourself face to face with the Devil.

"Took you long enough," you greeted.

November 6, 1983

He flew for as long as he could and then pushed himself to fly further, following the massive roar until it became the constant din of roars and chitters and screeches--many beasts voices combined to form one.

He flew until he found something again in the barren void in the outskirts of the Upside Down.

It was surprising to find that there wasn't even a blue tinge to the sky anymore out here, but instead a dingy yellow hue. Glowing and golden, with, what he believed to be, shooting stars soaring across the murky atmosphere. Where he'd gotten used to order and obedience in the mirrored version of Hawkins, this...this...was wild and untamed.

It was full of possibility and promise.

For a brief moment, deep down inside, right next to where you resided in the pit, curiosity bloomed.

Was this the potential that the Upside Down had when it wasn't wrangled and tethered by Henry? Was this the potential that he had?

He snarled at the intrusive thought, sure that you were the cause of it; he needed to focus, to stay loyal to Henry. He had a job to do here; he had to restore order.

He powered onwards and soared over a crowd of creatures on the uneven ground below. They were emaciated and writhing, howling and digging and fighting.

It wasn't like the playful or bored fights he witnessed at the quarry; this was a survival of the fittest. Limbs were ripped off, throats torn, blood shed. And the winner had the explicit honor of absorbing the writhing mass of parts that the loser left behind.

Off in the distance he could see the partially formed behemoth of a creature. No life breathed into it yet, just a lump of meat with one leg here and a malformed head.

Images flashed in his mind, courtesy of Henry, of the Mindflayer forming from citizens of Hawkins. Their flesh melted to form the beast, just like his brethren below melted into one another to form a new Mindflayer.

Just like they'd sacrificed themselves for his new form.

He felt electricity deep within his flesh, his bones, his wings as like called to like.

He couldn't help but feel some sort of betrayal; its origins were unknown and he couldn't quite discern what the feeling meant.

Was it a betrayal of the creatures who used to believe Henry to be their leader, who sacrificed themselves for him?

Or a betrayal within himself? The pieces of him that had been graciously given knew that he was a part of their flock, their swarm...the blood that kept his heart beating and his hunger at bay was the same as theirs...but he'd chosen Henry over them...

"Is that what they feel?" your question echoed within him, radiating from the depths of the pit outwards, to the very tips of his talons and back. It shook him to the core. "Or is that what you feel?"

However, he ignored you as he dropped to the ground, dry earth cracking beneath his feet, and let out a deafening, screeching cry to bring the mass of creatures to order.

The hive mind was still unavailable to him--to all of them, it seemed--but he was still the strongest of them all, the most dangerous predator. They all stilled at his call, like a shockwave radiating outwards from him.

He turned on his heel, glaring at the massive congregation of creatures. Some of the dogs pawed at the ground; the petal-like heads of the demogorgons opened and closed at will, blood dripping from the thousands of teeth embedded in their maws. He didn’t need the hive mind to know what they were thinking, considering; he knew what it looked like when they were gearing up for an attack.

He snarled at them all, chastising them, warning them...

One warning; it was all they got. Just like his uncle used to tell him.

But one stupid creature got the courage to challenge him and it roared, a shrill sound from somewhere beyond his line of sight, and the others soon followed. Until he was surrounded by another cacophony of sound that caused the air to vibrate and the ground to rumble.

There was safety in numbers; he knew. He could overpower them individually without much trouble, but against the sheer mass of them? Could he win? Could he survive?

He dug his heels into the ground, tucked his wings tightly against his body, and hissed, accepting the challenge.

He silently apologized to Henry as he considered that this would be the most fun he would have in the Upside Down since he and Dustin had their…

His thoughts were cut short as one of the dogs raced towards him, mouth snapping, ready to strike. Only for him to strike first, claws cutting it to ribbons, easily tearing through its flesh until it thumped, dead in pieces on the ground around him.

Its comrades were soon to follow, a whole pack of them, and they got their pound of flesh out of him, biting and dragging their teeth into him. They sent his black blood spilling onto the ground with the wounds they inflicted. He powered through the pain, knowing he would heal.

What was pain to him when he was reborn of pain? When Henry had inflicted unimaginable agony onto him only to build him back stronger again?

He picked them off his body one by one, like the vermin that they were, cursing their betrayal—they had been his friends, his family in this new life—as he tore them apart.

More attacked, until it was an endless barrage of bodies and claws and teeth looking to tear into him, which resulted in what could only be described as untethered carnage. When he tired, he stoked his hunger by drinking deeply from the wounds he inflicted on them, taking his fill until he was ready to keep fighting.

He was filled with the determination to keep going until the last creature was dead at his feet, and he would have...he would have done it...

If only he hadn't looked up at the sky.

And saw it looking back down at him.

November 14, 1986

Your vision blurred and the devil's visage wavered in and out.

From goat, to that of a man with beautiful, sculpted features and dark curls. Back and forth a few times, smiling ever so gently at you. Finally he decided on the image of a man for his temptation of you.

Funny that he wouldn't make himself look like Eddie or Nonna again if he wanted to do that.

The cell door slammed shut and he sat beside you on the ground; he said your name carefully, as though he was tasting a fine wine for the first time.

"You're a funny little creature," he observed with a chuckle, dark undertones accentuating the depth of his accented voice. "My own disciples fear me but you...hmmm...you fear something else, I think."

"You don't spend much time on Earth do you? A Mongolian Death Worm is scarier than a Goat Man," you reasoned.

The corners of his eyes crinkled in amusement.

"You fear yourself." Your expression fell and he held a hand out innocently. "It's ok, I feared myself too for a time. After I was cast out of Heaven. My father and brothers feared me, so I must also fear myself. But I came to find that I was just...willful, and they didn't like that one bit."

You thought of Gabriel and his annoying stoicism, how he tried to keep you aligned with what fate had in store for you.

"Yes, you seem to be exceptionally willful too." He hummed in agreement, as though he could hear your thoughts. Maybe he could. "You and your forebearers. That's why you've found yourselves in the predicament you're in."

He leaned closer to you, his nose practically touching yours. His image wavered once more, and you smelled the brimstone on him. Much heavier than it had with Edward Spellman.

"That's why you've found yourselves doomed to an eternity with me," he smiled amicably and then slowly leaned back. "Why not let it be on your own terms."

Your eyes darted between his, and you questioned whether or not you could trick the Devil, if you could win against him in this game.

And if you did, would he just strike you down in retaliation?

"What do you get in return?" you asked.

"Another soul devoted to me," he said simply. "Instead of one I'm forced to punish. I really like it when mortals pray to me; the power is actually quite nice."

He took a deep breath in, shoulders squaring as he lavished in some unseen dark power. Then he exhaled and squinted at you.

"I'm being merciful, you see, because, I win either way; you're still mine, in the end. But isn't corruption fun? The hellfire tickles when it touches you instead of melting the flesh off your bones like it's currently doing to dear old Dad."

His eyes narrowed further when you didn't react.

"Or to Eddie."

You must have visibly reacted, some kind of shudder or blink that made him relax and smile again.

"See, that got you listening," he nodded self-assuredly. "I can smell the stink of grief on you.”

You gritted your teeth at the pang in your heart; Eddie…he wasn’t in Hell. He couldn’t be.

But how could you be sure?

“And denial,” He continued. “Faustus could too, actually, and he's not the brightest bulb in the bunch. He doesn't have nearly as much power as he likes to pretend he does. He's losing control of his own congregation. They don't want to listen to him. No wonder you didn't fall prey to his torture either. No matter. You're here with me now."

The edges of the cell suddenly became alight with flames, a circle of them that trapped you and the Devil together.

They were not of this earth; you knew it immediately as they licked at your bare skin, but you gritted your teeth to the singe of pain that shot through you, refusing to move closer to him.

"Now, dear girl, what do you want?"

He tilted his head, and the motion felt strange and distorted. Contorted as it seemed to tilt further than a human's range of motion would allow.

"Do you simply want this curse gone? You can continue doing your good deeds on earth if you want, save the innocents. I don't mind. Oh that's a good bargain actually. Innocents slaughtered by darkness go to heaven; if you save them and they live to sin on their own, they'll end up with me. Let them suffer a little less so I can enjoy hearing them scream a little louder."

The longer you stayed near the fire though, the louder you heard screams of the damned from within it.

"Maybe you want revenge on those who put this silly curse on you in the first place. Your bishop friend hmm? Or whatever he is. We both know the dark deeds he's involved in."

Something wicked twinged within you, deep down in the little dark spot inside your soul. Your lips quirked as he projected images of Jinette screaming as you burned him alive.

You shook your head, physically trying to rid yourself of the thoughts.

No. You were good, you could break this curse yourself and you could still save people and you could make it to heaven. To Eddie.

"Ah, see, my mistake. How could I forget? How good is all of that," he asked knowingly. "When I'm forgetting something important? When there's something more delicious I can offer."

The devil's projections changed then. From revenge and damnation...to all of the decadent moments that you had with Eddie and then lost because of this stupid curse.

You whimpered at the thoughts, at the way they plucked at your heartstrings. Kisses and laughter and every secret, sweet moment between the two of you.

"Do you want your little boyfriend back?" he whispered. "The two of you could live forever with red vines and cherry pie and Dr. Pepper until the end of time. Immortality is something I offer all my disciples."

You felt your resolve weaken and tears built up in the corners of your eyes as you saw the two of you frolicking through the world until the end of the earth itself. You and Eddie and forever. You could almost reach out and touch it.

But how could he offer that to you if Eddie was beyond his grasp in Heaven. He had to be in Hell, as much as it destroyed you to believe.

"All you have to do," he held out his hand, "is say yes."

It would have been so easy to reach out and touch his hand, to ignore all of the red flags and to accept this offer. It was easy for all logic to leave you, all rational sense that you had. It was so tempting and you were so...so...tired.

But there was a small bit of movement in the corner of your eye, and you broke eye contact with the devil to see what he might have to show you now...only to find Gabriel there, hands held behind his back. He looked bored, like he usually did, and you almost felt smug at him having caught you like this.

You were tired. You were human. You weren't meant for these grand plans that fate had in store for you, that God seemingly had for you.

"Have you come to scold me?" you asked him wearily. "Or save me?"

"I'm here to prove that you still have much to learn," Gabriel sighed. “Very much to learn, it seems.”

Yes, you did...didn't you.

You snorted and hung your head in shame, finally allowing the tears to fall.

But the devil...the devil narrowed his eyes at you and turned to follow where your line of sight had been.

"Who are you talking to?" he asked with a snarl.

You scoffed and lifted your hand to gesture towards Gabriel.

"Surprise!" you exclaimed with faux excitement. "Family reunion."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, head darting back and forth between you and Gabriel.

Or rather, just left of Gabriel.

You watched as his head turned in confusion, as anger built up inside of him and the fires roared hotter, as his image darted in and out, in and out. Goat then man then something else...just a shadow.

Like the shadow that you'd seen in the woods.

You sniffed and wiped at your tears as you put two and two together. All of the inconsistencies that you ignored in the devil's stories, the misuses of names and symbols in the Academy, and now this...the fact that this so-called Lucifer--an archangel--might not be able to see Gabriel.

Devils lied, demons lied. They tricked and poisoned minds and hearts. They still had power and promises; this one had a whole slew of followers. He was their deity in one way or another, spoke as though he believed himself to be a fallen angel. Maybe he was a prince of Hell in some capacity, some pretending parasite whose ambition was the throne of the damned.

But was he the Devil himself? No.

None of these beliefs were as straightforward as they seemed; the universe was a riddle that you didn't have time or care enough to solve.

You also were a little rusty on your Lesser Key of Solomon.

Had he even known these things about your curse? About Nonna and Eddie? About your father and your knighthood? Or had it just been a simple skimming of your thoughts? Maybe even Blackwood's thoughts when he'd read your memories through your blood.

You thought back to the information you tried to ascertain from Blackwood in return.

A vision of this Dark Lord and Edward Spellman, some sort of disagreement between the two of them. Perhaps this devil was trying to get someone or something on his side to overcome Spellman's challenge.

That's all it took for it to click in your head.

Then you got angry. At this devil for his tricks, at Jinette for putting you in this mess without sufficient warning, and most of all…at yourself for falling for it all.

You looked back at Gabriel, unable to admit that you’d fucked up.

"Ok but you could have just saved me you know," you snarked at him instead.

Gabriel’s mouth quirked in his rendition of a smile. Some pseudo expression that made him seem human for a fraction of a second.

"It'll all make sense one day.” It was said the way a parent would to a curious toddler. Gabriel looked away from you to some middle distance, through the wall of the cell, and then gestured at the devil. "Would you like to take care of this?”

You rolled your eyes at him then pushed yourself to your feet, much to the protest of the devil, who simply conjured more hellfire to try and burn you alive.

You let it singe you, let it touch your skin to ignite the fire of your own. A spiteful, smiting fire, much like you had emitted the day you found out Eddie died.

"And if I told you he was alive?" the devil asked, shrinking away as you raised your hand to banish him. "Eddie. He's alive."

You hesitated but shook off any effect his lies had on you.

"Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue," you quoted and then leant closer to him to whisper. "That's Shakespeare, if you wanna tell your friend Blackwood to experience some mortal things before I come knocking again."

The hellfire licked at you again and from it you sparked a pure and holy flame, and with the heat and pressure of a supernova, the Witch's cell was consumed. All the dark corners were illuminated, the evil spirits that lurked there expelled, and you heard the devil scream as he was sent back to the depths of Hell once more.

You were alone when the fire dissipated.

Gabriel was gone.

Even Eddie’s ghost didn’t dare show himself, and you were grateful.

Your footing faltered and you fell against the wall of the cell, grateful for it to be over. You took several deep breaths before the pain and weariness in your body—in your soul—got the best of you.

Then you cried. Deep, gut-wrenching sobs echoed in the stone chamber, as you wrapped your arms around yourself to try and self soothe. This moment was for you. It was full of mourning and self-hatred and fear and relief that you hadn’t given in in that moment of weakness.

Your respite didn't last long, however, because the door to the cell creaked open again. You startled and scrambled to stand tall, confidently, unwilling to let the witches get the best of you again.

Only to find the kind eyes of Edward Spellman on the other side.

November 6, 1983

He stared in confusion, ignoring the bites and slashes from the masses around him, as the pair of eyes became more tangible in the rolling, smoky clouds up above. A flash of lighting was a blink...or maybe a glint of curiosity in their gold-and-shadowy depths.

Just eyes. Nothing else.

It was a curious thing.

They watched him.

And he watched them back.

It would be easy to blame you for this, just like he'd tried to convince himself to blame you for the whispers. But you were silent; no gloating or even warning.

Actually, if he paid attention, he could hear you hiding in the pit, little prayers being muttered fearfully.

There was a surge of protectiveness that shot through him at the realization that you were afraid. He figured that as annoying as you were to him, he'd really never seen you affect the rest of the world in many more ways than plucking the strings of his guitar. Conversely, the world shouldn't affect you either; your warnings were for him and him alone. If he ceased to exist, so would you, right?

So why did those eyes scare you? And why were they watching him in the first place?

His head fell to the side in a confused tilt and the eyes seemed to blink at him.

He snarled and the eyes blinked again.

Then in the distance, the proto-Mindflayer shuttered to life and squawked. It was a sad and pathetic sound, and he would have laughed; however, in response to the cry, the army of creatures that had taken up arms against him screeched in tandem. They released their holds on him, their jaws becoming loose so they could contribute to the flurry of sounds.

Louder and louder until it was a deafening wail.

Until it brought Eddie to his knees.

He was not meant to kneel.

That was the first thought he had; Henry had made him to tower over his enemies, to intimidate them before he slaughtered them. His servitude to his master was not by force, it was willing.

He'd given up so much for a chance to live.

Given up his soul.

"Heaven," you muttered sadly inside of him before delving back into prayer to your non-existent god. He growled at the thought, at your incessant murmuring deep within him.

Eddie Munson wasn't going to heaven; it was a laughable thought, actually.

He struggled back to his feet, feeling like he was underwater again with the weight of a thousand oceans on his shoulders. He steeled himself against the wails and the screams, the whispers and the feelings they all drummed up inside of him.

He'd chosen this.

This was his path.

And nothing would make him deviate from it.

Not you, not some would-be-usurping monster made from the parts of recalcitrant beasts, and certainly not some eyes in the sky that made him doubt himself.

He closed his own eyes to the world, closed himself off from all of it; he even tried to close himself off from you, but he couldn't escape you no matter how much he tried, so he just ignored your words. He would deal with you later.

If some meddlesome minder thought that tricks could be used to turn him against his master, he could use tricks of his own. A trick Henry himself showed him--whether he intended to or not--through the Hive Mind.

It started as a spark, not in his heart or in his fingers...in his mind. He envisioned it. Red and crackling, like the lightning that illuminated the skies of the Upside Down. The skies of his home. So different than the lightning that crashed up above and made those eyes blink and wink at him.

Red like a glowing ember.

Red like blood.

Red like his guitar, the vibrations twanging through him as he plucked the string.

He harnessed those imagined vibrations, imagined lightning, and then cast it outwards from him.

He felt the devastation before he heard it or saw it; just like the static wave that had cut him off from the collective consciousness, his attack on the beasts stunned them, then shocked them.

Eviscerated them.

Every wave of electricity he cast was full of emotion, as though he was purging every human feeling he didn't think he had anymore. It was retribution and pain and justice; grief and regret and loneliness. And when it all poured out of him, when the wails stopped, he opened his eyes to an empty battlefield.

The bodies had turned to stone and then the stone had weathered into dust.

There was a rumbling overhead and Eddie looked up with a wretched, wicked, victorious grin.

Henry would be proud of him.

The eyes blinked again, and then lightning crashed from the clouds that made them up, right down onto the ground before him.

One bolt after another. Never touching him. Just dotting the ground with craters.

Like teardrops.

Until the skies roiled once again and the eyes disappeared.

All with one last whisper on the wind.

"Help me..."

November 14, 1986

Mr. Spellman--Edward, he insisted, but you simply refused--escorted you out of the Witch’s Cell and the Academy of Unseen Arts and then took you back to Greendale.

“In a car,” you observed as he led you to his vehicle.

“How else?” He questioned with a furrowed brow and then reached into the backseat to grab a lovingly-crocheted shawl to hand to you. "I'll return your belongings to you once I find their whereabouts; Faustus was only protecting our congregation when..."

He faltered with his words, and you knew that he was trying to find an excuse for something that might otherwise be inexcusable.

"It's alright," you stopped him and took the shawl. You wrapped it around your bare shoulders. You pulled it around you tightly and inhaled; it smelled like aromatic herbs with an undertone of...formaldehyde? "I understand. Maybe, uh, the stripping isn't necessary next time he tries to catch and torture someone huh?"

"Would you believe it if I said that it's a tradition?" he offered apologetically. "Those who make a deal with the Dark Lord often see it...almost as a rite of marriage."

He laughed as you wrinkled your nose in distaste.

"Maybe some traditions need to change," you challenged him.

He gave you space and time, several days actually, to rest and heal and recollect yourself before he invited you to his home--a mortuary, which would explain the formaldehyde--to discuss your visit to Greendale. You shared your story, willingly this time--about the Knights and the Holy Order and about your curse--while he shared stories about the Church of Night and the Academy, about their beliefs and how he constantly pushed to know more, believe more.

Then you both discussed how you might work together to ensure you'd never need to come back again.

"It's a great meeting of the minds," he exclaimed, more enthusiastic than you might ever be. "A meeting of worlds."

You couldn't deny him that enthusiasm, especially when he'd been kind enough to welcome you into his home. His sister Hilda even brought tea and cookies for the two of you. But you knew that Jinette and the Order would probably kill you if things didn't change in Greendale and soon.

"A meeting about the demon you worship or the kids who are dying at the Academy under your watch Mr. Spellman," you policed him.

You weren't even surprised when he agreed with you.

"You mentioned traditions needing to change. The Harrowing isn't even one of our most archaic traditions but it is one of the many traditions that I'm keen to abandon," he explained, scribbling something down in a nearby journal. You didn't ask what some of the other traditions the Church of Knight kept; you knew that you probably wouldn't be too keen on them either.

But he seemed genuine enough.

"As for the Dark Lord," he continued. "I've known for some time that he isn't really Lucifer Morningstar. But it wouldn't do for me to try and convince anyone of it. What else is there to drive our beliefs? I suppose plenty of things but...to change an entire system takes time. Besides...well...it's all relative, isn't it? To us, your deity is The False God. No matter how much hope and comfort he gives you."

You knew that Mr. Spellman was generalizing...but when was the last time God had ever brought you comfort? Had He ever?

"Maybe He is The False God," you agreed. "Maybe neither of them are truly worthy of any worship; they all have their flaws."

"Knowledge is knowing that a tomato is a fruit," he quoted.

"And wisdom is knowing not to put it in a fruit salad," you finished for him with a snort. "My boyfriend says that all the time when he and his friends play DnD. He..."

And then you caught yourself, and Mr. Spellman caught you too. He watched you with a knowing gaze.

"He..." you frowned. "He..."

"He came with you to Greendale," Mr. Spellman finished for you. "Even if you don't want to admit that he did. He goes with you everywhere. Doesn't he?"

"He does."

"When did he die?"

"Back in March."

"And do you want him gone?"

"I think," you paused and wrung your hands together.

What a strange question for him to ask...but it still got you thinking. Was it better to carry this grief with you for the rest of your life? To carry his ghost with you everywhere you went? Clearly, if your time in Greendale had been an indicator, Eddie and your grief could be used against you.

But what was the alternative? Being alone? You knew he wasn't there...but wasn't he there?

What was a ghost, but a wish...

"I think," you finally continued with your answer. "Eddie is a part of me now in a way that I can never ever...I don't even know if recover from is the right phrase. I don't think I even want to recover from it. He's going to be a part of me until I reunite with him again."

"In Heaven?"

"In Heaven. Or in Hell."

November 6, 1983

Eddie returned to Henry, triumphant.

It had been a relief once he'd returned to Hawkins and the hive mind seemingly clicked back into place. Henry had been the first to greet him when it did, demanding to see him in the flesh and, hopefully, celebrate such a big victory.

But when he opened his mind to his master, fully intent on letting him see everything--

The self-cannibalism of the unruly creatures, his destruction of them and finally, you deep down in the pit within him, whispering into his ear the whole time.

--Henry, surprisingly, did no such thing.

There was pride, but also boredom. He would see that his request was fulfilled, but beyond that? Well what good was praise when success was the expectation.

"Rest," Henry groaned and then settled back into his own convalescence, without much care to the state of his beast. "You will find battle again soon; for now, rest."

Eddie twitched apprehensively at those words, at the dismissal, as he took to the skies once again to follow his master's orders.

But something was missing. He needed answers, he needed to deliver a full recount of the incident, he needed to ensure that this would never happen again because he knew the consequences would be dire.

He was Henry's right hand; why didn't his master want to ensure he was successful. His reaction had been beyond trust; it had been indifference.

Deep down inside of Eddie, a little voice spoke.

Did it matter whether Henry cared or not? He was successful, that was all that mattered.

But what was the point of being successful if not to receive some sort of praise? He would surely be punished if he had failed.

But if he had failed, he would be dead. And he would have deserved it.

And if he had died? Would Henry have batted an eye?

He was just a thing. Henry's weapon, his sword, his beast...and if he lost...good riddance...if he lost, he was weak anyway...

Eddie roared when he landed at his destination--the trailer--inundated with all of the doubts in the world. Frustrated, because they didn't come from you, they came from himself. That voice...that was his own voice. Not yours.

His doubts in his master were his own.

But where had they come from? Why? Why now?

He was suspicious of their origin, especially since you were practically non-existent in that moment. In fact, he hadn't heard you since his return. Since he'd decided to reveal your existence to Henry.

The feelings of betrayal within him must have been because of you, even inadvertently.

"Come here," he screeched at you, clawing at his own chest almost an attempt to carve you out physically. "Answer me!"

But there was nothing.

Rage stoked, he stormed through the trailer and resumed the rampant destruction that he'd abandoned oh so long ago. Walls demolished, belongings broken. He would move heaven and earth to get you to respond to him, cause as much of a ruckus until you came to bother him once again, insult him.

Then he would...what? Strike? He couldn't strike you, couldn't kill you, couldn't be rid of you, even if he tried.

And then, in the depths of the destroyed trailer, he came to his guitar.

The guitar had started it all, hadn't it? The first time he'd played it was the first time you'd materialized. That was the first time he'd felt like Eddie Munson in an eternity.

But he wasn't Eddie Munson anymore.

He reached out a claw and plucked at a string, hoping that would get you to reveal yourself once again.

Twang.

There was a ripple.

Twang.

A disturbance in the pit as you clawed your way out of him once again.

Twang.

You were silent as you manifested, unseen, beside him.

It was silent for a while, as you both languished in the presence of one another. Eddie in the silent truth of your existence, you in the turbulent rage of his.

Until he finally spoke.

"What did you do to me?" he questioned.

He watched as the guitar sting plucked itself by your invisible hand, that zzzz of your fingertip against the texture of the string before the twang.

"How did you do that?" He didn't need to elaborate, he knew you knew what he meant.

It was easy to put the blame on you, for all of it, even though he knew he felt your fear in the wastes at the outskirts of the Upside Down. You'd been just as in control as he had been.

"We both know," you spoke into his ear, into his heart. "That wasn't me."

"But you are doing something," he rasped. "Trickster, fiend."

"Friend," you corrected him.

There was a pang where his heart should be once again.

But you were more than friend, weren't you. You were a part of his heart, a part of his soul--

He roared at the thought and lashed out, trying to claw at you futility, but you disappeared again and he felt you materialize across the room.

"I don't know why you're angry," you taunted him. "Because big bad Vecna didn't pat you on the head. The Eddie I know wouldn't accept such mediocre prizes."

"I'm not Eddie anymore!" he screeched and this time he didn't lash out at the space where you seemingly existed. Intangible and invulnerable.

No, instead he lunged for the symbol of you, the last symbol of his humanity.

The guitar.

He raked his claws down the metal of the strings, shearing them into pieces. He pulled the neck of it from the body, stomped on it with heavy footsteps.

The more he destroyed his previously beloved instrument, the more he envisioned your destruction. Just like he'd vaporized all of the betraying comrades, he imagined that he'd vaporized you. Each atom turning into dust, into smoke, the more he destroyed this last piece of Eddie Munson in existence here in the Upside Down.

It was quiet when all was said and done, and he let out a victorious wail to celebrate that silence.

He huffed and chuckled and dropped to his knees in relief that he was finally rid of you.

Finally.

But he felt the phantom weight of your arms circling around his neck, the pressure of your body against his wings. You softly caressed his cheek.

"Are you done? Did that feel good?" you mocked him.

A whimper escaped his throat and you sighed sorrowfully.

"I'm sorry Eddie," you nuzzled against the side of his head, breath caressing his skin and ruffling his hair. Even if you weren't really there. "But you're not getting rid of me that easily. I will always be with you."

“Real hauntings have nothing to do with ghosts; they have to do with the menace of memory.” — Anne Rice, Queen of the Damned

[transmasc-rose]

Amy/Rory I Saw the TV Glow au:

Amy as Maddy/Tara, who ran away and never came home, who talks about things that can't be real (the TV show, the TARDIS, a world where they're strong, a world where they're something better).

Rory as Owen/Isabel, meek and yet loyal and yet terrified of his best friend and what she means. And what she says. And what she shows him.

Doctor Who, the TARDIS, the Doctor, all wrapped up into the role of the Pink Opaque, the TV show from their youth, and something Amy grasps onto and never let's go. Something Rory abandons for a normal life.

And yet.

[moe-broey]

Sketch I accidentally put too close between other doodles

[liquidchocolatecake]

currently captive audience to a knock down drag out fight in my brain between desire to respect the wishes of the creator and not look for anyone redistributing the comic and god i fucking miss wonderlab i miss wonderlab so much you have no idea i want wonderlab back so bad