#it was Fear by Michael Grant

[sadiecoocoo]

I just realized that the first time I ever wrote gore was during a social studies project in 8th grade where we had to write a horror story about a historical figure in the subject we were learning about… I maybe made it so said historical figure was murdered by an lady with an axe :D

Like he was asking for paranormal shit not a literal murder case but y’know when you have an idea you gotta stick to that idea

(it was also a group project and I lowkey hated working on project either this group… even though they were my friends… they just didn’t too well with projects and me being a perfectionist when it comes to school work definitely didn’t help)

I had to voice the narration for it too, so my teacher heard me, the quiet kid that only ever read books or did her work in class, read about a guy getting brutally murdered by axe and all his bits being chopped up…

He was supposed to play the recordings in class but he avoided some for obvious reasons

[mythtakens]

4x07 There Goes the Neighborhood

[bumblebeeswrite]

Hi there! My name is Jace and welcome to my master list! Please note, these are all 18+ fics. Minors will be blocked!

Here I will post links to all my work!

Below are the characters I write for:

JQ: Michael (Hoard), Tom Grant, Eddie Munson, Emperor Geta, Eric (AQPDO), Johnny Storm, Sam O’Brien (warfare), Ralph (time wasters), Prince Paul (The Great)

Fred Hechinger: Daniel Markowitz, Emperor Caracalla, Simon Kalivoda, Quinn Mossbacher, Jason Hochberg (HOAS), Dimitri Kravinoff

Stranger Things characters

And others, just ask. My requests are almost always open! Feel free to flood the ask box!

NOTE: PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT IT IS YOU’RE REQUESTING. I HAVE A LOT OF THINGS ON HERE. MOODBOARD, FIC, MATCHMAKING, LETTERS, ETC

FLUFF PROMPTS

MOODBOARD REQUESTS

ANGST PROMPTS

FRIENDS TO LOVERS PROMPTS

FRED HECHINGER MATCHMAKING

COMFORT CHARACTER LETTERS

JOSEPH QUINN CHARACTER MASTERLIST

FRED HECHINGER CHARACTERS MASTERLIST

CORRODED COFFIN MASTERLIST

STRANGER THINGS MASTERLIST

SUMMER CAMP CELEBRATION MASTERLIST

[thebreezelover]

HAPPY FAYZ DAY everyone here's a meme I made to celebrate 🥳 (I know it's an old template I just got inspired by this post on the Gone subreddit)

[aynsleydraws]

1/? of all of my gone drawings! My insta handle is gone.grouptherapy bc this is just a batch of my portraits/half body drawings. My linktree -> for commissions! https://linktr.ee/aynsleydraws

[sigmaaegoniii]

I burst out laughing at how nonchalant Orc sounded because Jack is spewing blood everywhere and quickly dying from blood loss on the ground and Orc’s reaction is “huh”.

There is a 90% percent chance I would have reacted the same way haha

Maybe I laughed because of the tension and stress I felt after the previous scenes 😭

[imgonnagetkilledbynutstink]

Grant: should we just get raving drunk?

Varian: too late

(real quote)

[actual-changeling]

i have watched the kiss scene and the breakup as a whole more times than i can count and my brain is still trying to process all the things it picked up on.

my newest painful obsession: aziraphale thought crowley came back for him.

they kiss, aziraphale says i forgive you and instead condemns them both, crowley leaves. the lip touching itself is fucking essay worthy because holy SHIT the amount of micro expressions flickering across his face is endless, michael sheen acted his ass off.

i think it's a mixture of surprise, unspoken love, a HEAVY dose of fear, disbelief, and oh my god what did he just do what did i just do. he turns away from the door and we get a very very quick shot of how exactly he is angled.

standing up straight with faked spiteful anger, the same anger he spit at crowley out of fear and insecurity, chin up, clearly waiting for something - or rather someone. we gotta remember that every single time crowley has left aziraphale, he came back. every. single. time. he came back and apologized, that's what they do.

crowley comes back and aziraphale forgives him and they continue bearing their silence.

the bell rings when the door opens again, just like it did when crowley left, and just. look at his face. how quickly he swivels around. the blink and you will miss it spark of hope.

and then the pure devastation when he realizes it's not crowley.

aziraphale thought crowley was coming back for him. he was WAITING for him to come back. even after all that, he couldn't imagine crowley actually leaving him behind, especially not after that kiss and his entire indirect love confession.

just like crowley thought for a tiny heartbeat that aziraphale was kissing him back, aziraphale hoped, hell, he fucking thought he KNEW crowley would never abandon him. not after "i could always rely on you. you could always rely on me." aziraphale has taken him for granted, of course he thought it was him coming through the door.

but that spark of hope gets stomped out beneath the metatrash's feet and he fully turns around, unable to face him and the reality of it all.

this time, he went too far.

this time, crowley did not want forgiveness.

he was about to say i love you and turned it into i forgive you, still clinging to their old ways, their old rituals, just that they are no longer those beings, no longer in that specific relationship. everything has changed.

they both thought the other would never abandon them. turns out they were both wrong.

[dragonwysper]

Also consider that fetishes in their most simplified definition place meaning onto things which otherwise have no meaning. Someone with a shoe fetish would find a footwear catalog erotic. That was never meant to be fetish material, but it is to this person.

In the same vein, as the original anon said, yes, someone can make fetish work that doesn't strike someone else as being fetishistic at all. That same shoe fetishist can make their own footwear catalog, and unless it's overwhelmingly obviously sexual, a lot of folks would be none the wiser. Fetishes are just highly personal like that.

I will disagree with the idea that applying meaning to something devoid of it is fetishism. Maybe I'm misunderstanding what you mean, or you're running under an alternate definition of fetishism, but I don't think your run of the mill symbolism is fetishism. Romanticism? Sure. Anthropomorphism? Probably. But fetishism? I don't think so. I think that only really comes into play if the interpretation is sexual.

I feel like Fear and Hunger is a work where the argument of whether the gore and SA stuff in it is meant to be for horror or for fetishy reasons is constantly talked about, but people never consider the possibility that it's both. A peron can absolutely make their work full of content that makes them horny, but be aware that for most people it's awful and shocking without much or any difference in presentation.

now this may be a reductive opinion, but I'm of the mind that you can't really separate those two categories anyway. the idea that fetishistic violence is cleanly divided from a theoretical neutral violence in art has always struck me as more of "something you convince yourself to feel better as a reader/writer" than a meaningful belief

even applying meaning to violence in the first place is fetishism, which is why people stumble over themselves when pressed about it. by its nature, you step into the gradient the moment you begin to create, calling thresholds as you feel them and assuming they must come from a uniting "common sense"

which is a very rambly way of saying that I agree with you! I just kind of simplified my thoughts in the other post because I don't personally believe the intent was to create a straightforwardly erotic work

[devildomwriter]

They Go With You When You Need to Get Your Blood Drawn: Headcanons

“Hey, I have to get some blood drawn at the doctor’s and it makes me really uncomfortable, any chance you can please come with me?”

Lucifer

• “Yes of course.”

• Holds your hand and gives you reassuring looks the whole time. Has to stop from chuckling when you laugh nervously or get chilled by the alcoholic wipes.

• He gently holds you afterward and buys you a treat as a reward for bravery.

Mammon

• “Yikes, that sucks. Sure thing!”

• He ends up fainting and you laugh so hard you don’t even notice the blood draw until it’s already over.

• You have to take him home and he’s so embarrassed you agree not to mention it if he buys you a treat and he happily agrees (he loves spoiling you)

Leviathan

• “Big oof. But yeah I’ll come.”

• You watch him play with his handheld to avoid looking at any needles.

• He’s still very nervous for you and after is over he looks at your blood in the vials and somehow feels jealous so decides to spoil you as a result and buy you dinner.

Satan

• “Of course I’ll come along.”

• He plays you cat videos to distract you and pass the time.

• He tells you how brave you are and how calm—as he himself hates needles and appointments

• He takes you out for food afterward, no matter what it is you want.

Asmodeus

• “Eek! You poor dear! Of course, I’ll come support you!”

• He’s a tiny psychopath but regardless blood still freaks him out, at least when it’s yours so he nearly faints.

• You get poked by the needle because everyone is too busy watching him so to make it up to you he takes you to the spa for some rejuvenation.

Beelzebub

• “Blood…umm, sure.”

• He can’t look at the blood either or he starts to drool so he’s in the corner of the room stuffing burgers in his mouth (which is against the no-food rule but they allow him just this once)

• He takes you out to eat afterwards, he needs meat but you can get whatever you want on him.

Belphegor

• “Yeah I don’t mind. Do I need to stay awake?”

• He falls asleep so quickly that the doctors are more concerned about him and you’re so amused watching them that you don’t even realize they’ve finished up.

• You drive him home and he feels bad he fell asleep so will find a way to make it up to you.

Solomon

• “Why certainly. When and where?”

• He puts a spell on you for you to avoid feeling pain or discomfort and he holds your hand for the duration.

• He’s very proud of his apprentice for handling themselves in such an uncomfortable situation.

Simeon

• “Oh dear, of course, I’ll come with you.”

• He gives you an angelic blessing so you’ll be completely calm and he silently hums and rubs your hand to distract you.

• Simeon heals the tiny wound immediately afterward and thanks the staff as he takes you home to relax while he makes you some cake.

Luke

• “B-B-B-Blood!? Y-Yes of course I won’t let you go alone!”

• Luke’s freaked out by the whole process and his reactions are so over the top you don’t even react yourself.

• You buy him ice cream later because he’s so woozy from watching that. He later returns the favor by making you something sweet to eat (with no red dye)

Raphael

• “You owe them blood? Do they need to be dealt with?”

• After explaining what the blood draw was and why you needed it he went with you but was on guard around the needles and watching the doctors very closely.

• He doesn’t know what else to do so he hums to help sooth your worry.

Michael

• “Certainly dear, you have nothing to fear.”

• He gives you a blessing as well as all the doctors to ensure everything goes perfectly. He keeps you distracted by asking about Lucifer and his brothers.

• He’s in a good mood from the new information he’s obtained on Lucifer and his brother’s antics so he’ll grant any request you make of him.

Thirteen

• “Gross, humans need to give blood? Sure thing though, you can count on me.”

• You watch her amused as she fiddles with a project the whole time, apparently it’s supposed to be a more fun way to draw blood so you’re more worried about that than the needle in your arm.

• She later tries to show you how her new device works so you have to warn Solomon.

Mephistopheles

• “I can get you a better doctor.”

• After getting him to go to your doctor with you he keeps a skeptical eye on everything, mildly impressed with human technology.

• He talks your ear off about the most recent scoop he’s investigating for the RAD Newspaper as a means to distract you.

• He takes you somewhere extravagant afterward to make you forget about the unnerving medical appointment earlier.

Barbatos

• “As you wish. I’ll ensure you don’t feel a thing.”

• Barbatos lovingly stays glued to your side, very watchful of everyone. He gives you a tea beforehand that makes you dull to pain and discomfort so you fall asleep on the ride home, never bothered by the blood and needles.

Diavolo

• “Oh no! Yes, I’ll be right there with you! We can get ice cream after.”

• Diavolo is worried for you but he’s hiding it and making you laugh by laughing at ridiculous things (his laugh is very contagious)

• True to his word he buys you ice cream or whatever you want after and tells you how proud he is of you and how brave you are.

[isakvaltersnake]

things from the 2001 television programme band of brothers that haunt me to this day:

- we’re paratroopers lieutenant, we’re supposed to be surrounded. not to be your 60 year old military obsessed uncle about it but that line goes hard

- nix’s little giggle he does sometimes

- I’ll never forgive them for leaving gene’s medic training out of their training montage. in fact you know what? go back in time, film a parallel sequel of the other 9 eps from gene’s pov

- popeye’s “they called you guys too?” and the way his accent specifically scratches my brain

- they gave me moose heyliger and his massachusetts accent for like 20 minutes then the narrative snatched him away from me and i still miss him

- the way meehan looks at winters after he tells him to close the flap, in fact let’s talk about how every single one of winters’ commanders are obsessed with him in one way or another he truly is the it girl

- the chaos and fear that precedes gene and the calm and comfort that follows him

- I know everyone thinks “we’ll go to chicago, I’ll take you there” is the insane line but the one that actually makes me lose sleep is “what, and give up all this?” THAT MAN SAID I WOULD RATHER LIVE THROUGH THE HORRORS OF WAR THAN HAVE LIVED MY LIFE WITHOUT YOU

- alley is So Beautiful and I don’t think we collectively talk about it enough

- babe being some rando replacement in episode three and whilst his other replacement friends are being absolutely roasted he is immediately adopted by bill and then gets gene fucking roe of all people to connect to him?? he’s too powerful I need to study him

- speirs being this ghoulish terrifying boogeyman until lip is anywhere near him then he’s suddenly dimples and kicking his feet and giggling

- speaking of lip and speirs their little sarcastic in jokes, lip finishing speirs’ sentences fml it’s giving married

- you been working out? IN FRONT OF EVERYONE?? LIEB YOU SLUT?? THEN YOURE GONNA LAY IN HIS BED WAITING FOR HIM??? insane behaviour

- the unexplored but high potential friendships and the way I wanted like 16 more episodes for shifty and lip, nix and luz, nix and web, sisk and perconte, winters and gene, grant and tab, lieb and alley, speirs and harry, etc

- the more haggard and bitchy nix gets the hotter he gets. he also must be studied.

- “you should pack up those ears and go home” ok sobel kinda ate with that one ngl

- speaking of sobel the little confused/bewildered/piss-pants faces he makes david schwimmer the actor you are

- the silly little wide stance pennywise ass run hall does before he gets murked RIP king

- klepto speirs ilysm

- joe toye and his brass knuckles are v sexy

- sink letting nix give winters his oak leaves was very shipper girl of him

- lip harry nix speirs winters in the eagle’s nest dream blunt rotation

- the unsustainable amount of cunt served by nix, frank, babe, and luz at all times is truly a marvel

- tab really checked lip’s dick and balls mid battle and honestly that’s friendship

- bit parts for simon pegg, tom hardy, andrew scott, james mcavoy, michael fassbender, jimmy fallon ?? bob casting director you will always be famous

- peacock is so fine if he was even a little good at his job I’d be obsessed with him (special shout out to the scene of him getting sent home on furlough)

- I could list out every one of their meaningful little moments together but really it’s babe and gene just tethering and grounding each other and how they seem to gravitate to each other out of blind instinct? that’s some Brontë whatever our souls are made of bullshit I’m afraid

- ok I know I said I wasn’t talking about little meaningful moments but gene staring across the convent at where babe is sitting, lost in the peace

-bull in replacements getting imprinted on by a bunch of baby ducks and being SO PLEASED ABOUT IT he’s not the stepfather, he’s the father that stepped up

- speaking of, the underutilization of bull in the back half is such an out of character bad call

- you are officers, you are grown ups, you oughta know. HE’S RIGHT AND HE SHOULD SAY IT AND THAT’S ON GENE BEING THE ONLY ONE ALLOWED TO TELL OFF WINTERS

- I know nix and winters are married and whatever but the real married couple behaviour is luz constantly pissing off joe and joe immediately letting it go

- lip and speirs and their mutual competency kink

- I’M REAL SORRY FRANK skinny ilysm

[crowclubkaz]

💚👁️🕸️ In honour of The Magnus Protocol releasing today, here are some book recommendations based on The Magnus Archives Fears!! 🕸️👁️💚

Detailed list of books below the cut!

For more book recommendations, especially queer horror, check out my Bookstagram @hauntedstacks

The Buried ⚰️ - Into the Sublime by Kate A. Boorman - Stuck by Ben Young - The Luminous Dead by Caitlin Starling - The Deep by Nick Cutter

The Corruption 🦠 - What Moves the Dead by T. Kingfisher - Green Fuse Burning by Tiffany Morris - The Honeys by Ryan La Sala - She Is A Haunting by Trang Thanh Tran

The Dark 🌑 - Dead Silence by S.A. Barnes - Nightfall by Jake Halpern & Peter Kujawinski - No Power by Todd Kirby - The 5th Wave by Rick Yancey

The Desolation 🔥 - Firestarter by Stephen King - Burner by Robert Ford - Those Who Wish Me Dead by Michael Koryta - Burn the House Down by Kenna Jenkins

The End 💀 - Funeral Girl by Emma K. Ohland - Pet Sematary by Stephen King - Under the Whispering Door by TJ Klune - This Thing Between Us by Gus Moreno

The Extinction �� - Lost Signals by Max Booth III - Bride of the Tornado by James Kennedy - No Safety in Numbers by Dayna Lorentz - The Rules of the Road by C.B. Jones

The Eye 👁️ - Video Palace by Maynard Wills - Episode Thirteen by Craig DiLouie - A History of Fear by Luke Dumas - The Watchers by A.M. Shine

The Flesh 🦷 - You’ve Lost A Lot of Blood by Eric LaRocca - Carnivore by Justin Boote - A Certain Hunger by Chelsea G. Summers - Tender is the Flesh by Agustina Bazterrica

The Hunt 🏹 - Hunt by Alexandra Nisneru - The Woods Are Always Watching by Stephanie Perkins - Survive the Night by Danielle Vega - The Hunger by Alma Katsu

The Lonely ☁️ - Red River Seven by A.J. Ryan - Solitude by Michael Penning - Dark Matter by Michelle Paver - We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson

The Slaughter 🥩 - Manhunt by Gretchen Felker-Martin - Your Shadow Half Remains by Sunny Moraine - American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis - The Summer I Died by Ryan C. Thomas

The Spiral 🌀 - That Darkened Doorstep by Catherine Jordan - Mind the Mirrors by Amanda Leanne - Grey Noise by Marcus Hawke - Last to Leave the Room by Caitlin Starling

The Stranger🕴️ - It Looks Like Us by Alison Ames - My Best Friend’s Exorcism by Grady Hendrix - The Deep by Alma Katsu - The Outside by Stephen King

The Vast 🪂 - From Below by Darcy Coates - Into the Drowning Deep by Mira Grant - Floating Staircase by Ronald Mafi - Nightmare Sky by Red Lagoe

The Web 🕸️ - The Taking of Jake Livingston - The Fervor by Alma Katsu - The Book of Accidents by Chuck Wendig - Come Closer by Sarah Gran

If You Like The Magnus Archives 💚 - Thirteen Stories by Jonathan Sims - Family Business by Jonathan Sims - Gas Station by Jack Townsend - Horrorstör by Grady Hendrix

[naffeclipse]

Charm Brought It Back Pt. 2

Reader x Witches!Sun, Moon, & Eclipse

Commission Info

Whoo! The darling @jackofallrabbits has all my thanks for the continuation of the DCA Hocus Pocus AU! The boys want every piece of the historian reader, and they have no time to lose! The sun is rising, and they must prepare the ceremony, and you realize that your dear friend Michael has arrived at the witches' home. Very poor timing, on his part. Enjoy the flirts and curses!

Content Warning: Suggestive themes, heavy kissing, heavy touching, injury, disturbing imagery, and fear.

———

The witch carries you across the room, clasping you tightly within a cage of his claws. You’re frozen in his embrace. His towering height and lithe, long limbs make you feel incredibly small, like a mouse before a hungry cat. His extra set of arms disappears into the shadow of his dark cape. How did he summon them so effortlessly? You tilt your head back to gaze up at Eclipse’s face, the eldest brother of the hanged brothers. They should still be dead—they were for almost four hundred years.

His face is inhuman. The markings and color stain his visage in a midnight-red crescent, and a blackened shadow swallows it. His eyes, bright yellow and predatory, glance down at you. A grin splits his lower face with wicked teeth. He runs his tongue over his bone-white fangs.

Your stomach flip-flips within you.

Candlelight flickers ominous over the colonial home as the cauldron continues to bubble in the fireplace. The other two, Sun and Moon, watch you. Their wide eyes gleam in the firelight: one of pale pools of feverish desire and the other glint in scarlet, roiling with appetite.

You cling tighter to Eclipse’s shoulder. A childish desire to bury your face in the crook of his shoulder almost takes hold of you.

“Where are you taking me?” you whisper into Eclipse’s cape.

“To the parlor,” his voice is soft as dusk, and the vibrations through his chest sink into you with a gentle rumble. “The main hall is hardly a place to hold a ceremony.”

Your eyes widen. He strides past the tables with the many candles aflame in a thick, waxy cluster. His claws flex against your shoulder and around your thigh.

“What ceremony?” your voice climbs into a squeaky pitch.

A chuckle echoes behind Eclipse’s shoulder. You turn your head to catch Sun and Moon following behind, and the latter’s lips curl into a sinister smile as his shoulders shake with amusement—as if he finds you utterly adorable.

“Little mouse, there’s nothing to fear,” Moon soothes, almost in a sing-song voice.

“It will be wonderful,” Sun clasps his hands together. Eagerness streaks through his face like falling stars at sunrise. “You’ll see, sunshine.”

A thickness coats your throat. When Eclipse asked you to stay, did you agree to something far more sinister? Do they intend to use your soul or your life to grant them greater power or something else just as nefarious? 

“Wait.” You tremble. “Wait.”

“Little comet, we still need you,” Eclipse says firmly but gently. His yellow eyes narrow in the slightest, glancing at the black ribbons on his wrists. “The bells will ring for us at dawn unless we perform the ceremony. You must be part of it. You must speak the vows.”

Your heart scampers within your rib cage.

“Wait,” you say again, panic slithering up your spine. He continues onward.

Eclipse easily unlatches an almost hidden door in the back of the main hall while balancing you in his arms. Cobwebs tear apart as it swings open and he enters a smaller but no less intricate room. A window overlooks part of the road cutting through the thick forest. A few shelves are covered in dusty bottles of glass and woven baskets. Ancient and dried fronds, stems, thorns, and petals are stored on wooden tables.

In the corner of your vision, the white rabbit darts inside the room. The one that spoke with a woman’s voice. She bounds across the space, knocking into a small stand that topples over a jar of powder. Sun curses, his voice growling demonically. The claws holding you tense as Eclipse glowers. You shiver under sharp talons pricking into your sweater.

Moon leaps forward and cuts the rabbit off in her destructive path. His eyes, glinting with bloodlust, follow her like a hound eager to tear apart a fox. He steps across the room, into her path, and forces her to correct her race. Her hind legs kick out. Her fluffy body arches smoothly through the air but she lands too close to the door and clips her front foreleg. She topples over, sliding across the hard floor and back into the main room. 

With a flick of his wrist and a dark murmur, Moon casts the door shut without laying a finger upon it. It slams close, rattling the walls and causing you to jump in Eclipse’s arms. 

“It’s alright, little comet,” Eclipse purrs. 

“We now have privacy,” Moon declares with a rasp. He eyes the door with a branding glare as if daring the rabbit to intervene again. 

A faint scratching is heard at the bottom of the door.  You clutch your hands into small balls of anxiety.

“I’ll rid us of the little beast after the ceremony,” Sun promises as he steps closer, laying a hand upon your arm. “As for you, my little ray of sunshine, we must get you ready.”

“With haste,” Eclipse speaks, and his brothers listen. You snap your head from one witch to the other. Gently, Eclipse sets you back on your feet. You sway, clutching your chest and twisting your fingers into the knitwork of your sweater.

“This is all happening fast,” you say, breathless. The room spins slightly in your exhilarated state. You start to inch away, back to the door with the soft sound of claws gouging into it.

“We apologize, mouse,” Moon whispers as he steps to a black wood cabinet and pries open one low door. “But necessity calls for it.”

“When we have the luxury of time,” Eclipse speaks while approaching a small table where a stack of books resides. His black claws draw slowly down the spines, “We will have a proper ceremony, with all the decorations you desire and a feast that could gorge a village.”

A shudder falls down your back. The chill sinking into your bones is numbing, and fear creeps deeper into your mind, plucking at every wild and frantic thought. Are they going to cook you up and eat you? Are they going to cast a spell to turn you into a toad? This wasn’t part of the fabled story of their return, was it?

You’re not certain you want to find out any more. Are your questions worth your life? They’re being so cryptid, so rushed.

You shuffle further back, away from the focused witches and their enchantments. What are they capable of? If only you could make them stop for a moment and answer you.

“Sunshine, darling, where are you going?” Hands slip down your arms and over your wrists.

A gasp falls from your mouth, quiet and quick. The hands, pale and yellow, with scarlet ribbons tying golden bells to his wrists, lift your hands into the air. You’re not so different from a little ballerina figurine being posed, forced to dance endlessly in a music box.

“I’m not sure I want to stay,” you breathe, frightened. The rate of your heart picks up in tempo, banging like a drum against your sternum.

He leans over your shoulder. His wicked smile fills the corner of your vision. Eyes, pale and gray like mist, hold you captive.

“There’s so much we can show you,” he says. He trails the tips of his claws down your sleeves, and the layer of separation causes your eyelids to flutter. “There’s so much we can do for you. What would you like, my poppet?”

You’re locked in his spell. Did he cast magic or is it simply his touch? Your arms stay in the air as his hands fall down your sides, rubbing slowly over your ribcage before settling on your waist.

“I want to know.” You stare ahead at Eclipse and Moon as they set a blackwood altar in the center of the room, before the window. “I want to know everything about you and your lives.”

Sun’s teeth graze the curve of your shoulder. His breath is warm against the side of your neck, and the air rattles out of your throat.

“You will have it all,” he answers, and whisks you off your feet in a spin. The room blurs before he stops you, hands holding your own as you’re locked in a dance with the witch. His cape shifts over his shoulder, revealing the deep opening of his flowy, white shirt. Your cheeks burn. Flustered, you jerk your head up, tearing your eyes away, and almost become ablaze as you find his cheeky smile.

“I do mean all,” he winks, coquettish and wicked.

You balk.

He takes your hand and presses it to his chest, right above where his heart would be. His skin is smooth and pale, split into two colors of yellow and off-white down the middle of his torso. You feel a strange hum instead. Not a beat, but a constant buzz of energy. Magic, perhaps.

His footwork guides you around the room in a sweeping circle. As he twirls you, one hand on your waist and the other holding your arm above your head, you catch a glimpse of old and age-stained pages fluttering open. Eclipse sets the book on the altar. He bows over it, his eyes roaming over the archaic writings.

Beside him, Moon holds a silvery veil in his arms. He murmurs something to his elder brother, who dips his head in agreement.

You almost stumble as another shock of fright seizes you.

“What is that?” you ask as Sun reclaims you, pulling you flush against his torso—your middle bubbles at the contact. 

He simpers with a low hum.

His mouth opens but before he can speak, bright headlights cut into the room from the window. The diamond-patterned panes slice the room into shapes of light and shadow, and you inhale sharply. 

A car. Who’s here? The owner of the property? 

“What is that?” Moon hisses, his hood falling deeper over his face as he slinks into an alcove of shadows.

“It’s like the sun.” Eclipse lifts his arm to shield his eyes, peering around the blinding high beams. 

“No.” Sun’s brow narrows. His arms lower around you, tightening around your waist until you gasp. “It’s unnatural.”

You peek over Sun’s shoulder, pushing up on your tiptoes to see a familiar build of the vehicle just behind the lights. Michael’s car.

What is he doing here? Did he suspect you would come here alone, against his advice?

What will the witches do when they realize your friend is here?

Your gut clenches. You have to warn him. He has to stay away before they try to throw him into their cauldron or turn him into a fox.

A shiver falls down your back and down to your toes. You turn your head to find Eclipse’s wide eyes cutting into you, and you freeze. He couldn’t know it’s your friend, could he?

“We have an unwelcome visitor,” Eclipse declares. The corners of his mouth tug downwards and he promptly slaps the book close with a heavy, dusty thud. “Brothers, what shall we do with him?”

“Let’s cast him into a carrot and feed him to the rabbit,” Moon suggests.

“No, no, I was of the mind that we could make a new rug out of his skin,” Sun muses, his fingers stroking the small of your back, much to your terror. 

Michael’s voice rips through the house. Muffled by the door, his shouts turn quick, frantic. You clamp your mouth shut. A horror so cold slips into your veins, and you tremble. He can’t be here. 

Eclipse lifts his hand, a hum filling his throat as he stares down the door. You cry out a soft, “Please, don’t!”

His wide yellow eyes turn back to you, surprised. The next moment, the jarring thud hits the wood of the door and cracks it by the wrought-iron handle. Splinters fly outwards. 

Michael shouts your name, then commands, “Don’t make any vows!”

Your mind turns blank. What?

A snarl rips from Moon’s mouth. You flinch, the sound right at your shoulder as you realize the hooded brother has joined you and Sun. His clawed hand falls to your shoulder, talons almost digging into your collarbone.

“Who is that?” Moon’s scarlet eyes flash in demand. “How does he know?”

Another kick flies into the door. The entire house shudders as the wood buckles and a boot chops through it. Immediately, you watch a familiar hand snake its way inside and throw open the mangled frame of the door. In the threshold stands your friend.

“Michael!” You stare, stunned. “What are you doing here?”

His eyes widened upon the scene. His dark jacket catches splinters of wood and his unruly hair is extra ruffled from the effort of breaking the door down. Immediately, a white rabbit darts inside. Michael lands on the witches and their snarling, teeth-bared expressions before finding you. His fists clench at his sides.

“Get away!” He dips a hand into his jacket pocket and hurls a handful of small, dried lavender petals. 

As if struck with a blade or bullet, the witches all recoil as the flowers rain down. Sun’s and Moon’s hands disappear from you. Backing away, Eclipse almost stumbles into the altar before he rights himself. A hiss, furious and demonic, roll off his tongue. You flinch. Lavender flowers litter the floor.

The white rabbit rushes for you, stopping only to stand on her hind legs and press a foot to your shin. Her green eyes shine with desperation. “Stop standing there and run!”

There’s no thought but of terror. You reach down and scoop up the rabbit just as Michael steps towards you. He grabs your arm and half dragging, half guiding you through the witch’s house, the three of you rush for the exit.

“Little comet!” Eclipse cries. His voice tugs on your heart, but you twist and refuse to be pulled back into his orbit.

A growl follows from Moon, and a mumbling of something wicked and furious slips from Sun’s mouth, but you can’t look back. Through the candlelit main room and out the door, Michael races. His grip almost crushes your elbow.

“I told you not to come here! I told you not to come here without me!” Michael boils. You shrink slightly as he reaches for the passenger side door, uncaring for the rabbit you clutch against your sweater.

“I didn’t—I didn’t know,” you say quietly, defenselessly. 

The rest of your rebuttal doesn’t leave your mouth before a familiar and haunting voice shouts, amplified like a poltergeist screeching into your ear. Michael immediately forces you to duck, pushing your shoulder down until you’re crouched behind the car, him protecting you with his own body. Gravel shifts underneath your shoes.

Michael’s car begins to groan. You lift your head tentatively, then gape. The frame of the vehicle begins to twist and rust, curling at the edges and darkening with burnt-orange marks. You hear a strange, hissing sound, then realize the tire you’re hunched beside is leaking air. As the car withers, glass cracks then pops. You yelp under a shower of shards but Michael’s jacket shields you from the sharp edges. The rabbit in your arms struggles for a moment.

“We have to keep moving! Go to the cemetery,” she demands.

“Right,” Michael mutters. His eyes land on the rabbit you shield in your arms, and his expression only shifts in the slightest at the human voice emerging from the rabbit’s mouth.

Likewise, she stares back at Michael. You pet her fluffy white fur as your fingers tremble. Her hide is soft and her body is warm and comforting.

“You’re an Afton, aren’t you?” she says softly, almost as if she were seeing an old friend.

Your brow furrows. How could she possibly know his last name? Is she a witch too?

“I am.” Michael stares down at her, his grip shifting as he looks forlorn to his car and then back to the house. His mouth twists in a grimace. “I read about you in my ancestor’s journal. You’re Vanessa. I thought… I hoped it wasn’t true.”

“Vanessa?” you echo in your whiplash confusion.

The rabbit’s white ear flops back slightly before she presses a foot to your chest.

“We can’t linger.” Her green eyes flash to you, scathing as she remarks. “The witches want the virgin for their ceremony. We can’t let them complete it.”

Michael’s grip tightens upon you, and you make a sound of discomfort. His nostrils flare, his breath running harsh and heated. You’ve never seen Michael so upset, so close to violence.

“What is going on?” you gasp, clutching Vanessa tighter to your pounding heart.

“I’ll explain later.” Michael moves away, shaking glass from his jacket and jumping to his feet. He surveys the house. You can hear footsteps, curses, and something sweeping the floor. “Follow me. Run as fast as you can.”

“Michael—” you start but he’s already pulling you back to your feet. Vanessa leaps from your arms. She bounds across the road and into the tree line. Michael follows the white rabbit, and you try to catch your breath as the darkness becomes absolute as you try to keep pace.

You have to trust him. He and the talking rabbit. You follow, your feet pounding over pavement and then dirt and leaves. Branches scratch at your sleeves; you’ve long forsaken your poor sweater to being snagged and ruined.

Laughter cracks overhead like black lightning. The echo isn’t too far away, and you shudder at the thought of what spells will allow them to catch you. Witchy howls of both amusement and anger snake through the half-dead canopy of trees. The midnight air hangs heavy. Michael bursts through the treeline to an open field of dead grass with you hot on his heels before you spy what he’s running you toward.

An old wrought fence spans the length of a reclusive cemetery. It’s ancient, by the shape and crumbling aspect of a few of the headstones you spy on within the space. Your mind races to date the burial ground but Michael urges you forward just as a breeze cuts overhead.

You turn your eyes skywards just as Michael finds the corner of the overgrown and neglected corner of the graveyard property. A streak of movement interrupts the constellations of the night sky, and you almost stumble in dawning horror.

Flying just above the near leafless and dark trees are the witches. Brooms, elegantly carved and sleek, carry them effortlessly in the air. Their capes and cloaks billow like black manes to dark beasts behind them, and claws clutch tightly at their flying vessels. Teeth sharp, eyes glinting, their gazes meet yours. Eclipse. Sun. Moon.

Under their harrowing eyes, you feel no more than a mouse running from a cat’s pounce.

“Keep going,” Vanessa urges. Her white form dashes onwards, but she comes to a sharp halt and turns back, ears pricked.

Two stone pillars, cracked and faded from years of standing as sentinels mark the entrance to the burial ground. Michael ushers you into the cemetery. For one desperate moment, you wish you could study the history of this place, find out its name, who lies here, but you are torn from your brief musings.

“I know you.” Eclipse’s voice carries over the field. His black cap settles onto his shoulders as he sinks in the air to hover just above the threshold of the graveyard. “Your kind are all the same, witch hunter.”

Michael stands between you and the witch. His gaze is hard, unyielding. You clutch at his jacket, fearing the lack of barriers.

“What did he call you?” you breathe out. “Michael.”

He huffs at Eclipse as Sun and Moon settle on his flanks. Moon turns his hungry eyes upon you, glinting like blood. Sun strums the staff of his broom. His claws catch on starlight.

Eclipse tilts his head and bares his fangs in a taunting smile. “Do you really think you can keep our lovely little virgin from us?”

You shiver violently. What do they want?

“I’ll watch all three of you return to dust and ashes,” he promises. Vanessa slips against your ankle, pressing close as if she were a guard dog instead of a rabbit.

All three of the witches burst into laughter, wicked and harsh before they rise and fly over the gate, deeper into the cemetery.

Michael pushes you further down an unmarked and overgrown path. “It’s alright. They can’t set foot here. I’ll take care of them.”

“Wait,” you gasp. You stumble as Michael urges you onward. “Wait, don’t hurt them!”

“They’re witches,” he snarls so viciously, it makes you jump. He stops, finding a row of headstones with tall and web-cracked faces. “You have no idea how dangerous they truly are. I will explain everything once they’re gone. Stay here. Vanessa?”

The rabbit hops up beside you. Michael again pushes you down by the shoulders until you curl up in the shadow of a colonial headstone. He stands over you, glancing this way and that to the sky. A few large and overgrown trees cut into the skyline through the burial grounds.

Vanessa noses her way onto your lap. You open your arms and she hops on, her small feet pressing on your jeans. 

“Listen to him,” she speaks sternly. “He knows what he’s doing.”

“But—how? Michael? Where are you going?” you call, your voice cracking, but he’s already rushing away from the grave you’re hunkered near. He rushes into a flat, open plot of land filled with weeds and dead grass. Michael looks to the midnight sky.

You peer over the headstone. Vanessa hits your shoulder until you slink back down, but you catch a glimpse of Eclipse emerging from behind a black, dead tree and sailing through the air. He bows low upon his broom, eagerly stalking Michael. Your friend withdraws a cylinder from his jacket pocket. Popping it open, Michael quickly sprinkles something white around him—salt. 

Your heart climbs into your throat. You long to call out, to beg Eclipse to spare him, but Michael whips out what appears to be an old charm made of leather. Upon it are scratched archaic symbols you have never once glimpsed before in your historical studies. A few small bones dangle from where the leather is tied with cord.

Your eyes widen as Michael holds it high. Eclipse stops, leaning back and tilting the broom away until he comes to hover. Then, he laughs. Michael remains unmoved, though his brow furrows in the slightest.

A disgusted sound leaves Vanessa’s voice.

With a point of Eclipse’s finger, the charm ignites into flames. Michael yelps, dropping it to the ground and clutching at his hand, no doubt burned by the spontaneous combustion.

“Little mouse, where are you hiding?” A low voice calls, rasping out like a lover searching through the dark. Moon.

You stiffen. Vanessa’s ears pin flat against her skull. You press your back against the headstone, hiding yourself in its shadow. A soft breeze touches your hair, tugging strands across your face.

“We can play so many games when it’s only us.” Moon’s broom appears just a row down, scanning the fallen leaves and grave markers. He perches low, his shoulders shifting under his cloak like a tiger ready to leap upon prey. “Come on out. Let me take you home.”

Your blood runs cold. The ghost of his hands is still upon you, and you wonder if it would be so terrible to return with them. They would leave Michael and Vanessa alone, wouldn’t they? 

Moon slips slowly through the air, his broom black as night and silent, and his head lifts. He inhales deeply. Under the brim of his hood, his eyelids flutter. 

Then his entire head snaps to where you hide. You squeak in fright.

“There you are.” His jaws split into a ravenous grin as he reaches out a hand, flying over a gravestone just to where you kneel on the ground.

“No!” Michael shouts. “Get back!”

You jerk your head to him and watch as he steps away from the salt he just spilled. 

“Michael, don’t!” Vanessa warns a moment too late.

Eclipse sneers. Extending his hand, he speaks. His voice becomes of tongues, lapping and overtaking, but mostly devilish. The air turns sharp and tangy, and the wind picks up, twisting leaves around Michael’s feet. His eyes widened at his mistake. 

A flash of horror cuts through you just as Eclipse hurls out a curse.

Michael drops to the ground and begins writhing. You can only catch glimpses of him between rocky headstones, his body twisting and his flesh turning dark and rancid. His body convulses. 

A scream tears out of your lungs. You jump to your feet, clutching a hand over your mouth as you witness Michael suffer. Eclipse’s eyes immediately snap at you. Close beside you, a hand brushes your sleeve, cool and blue. Moon. You can’t move.

“Oh, how I’ve yearned to curse your ancestor.” Eclipse leans low, lording over Michael’s writhing form with little more than a delighted glint in his gaze. “He forced my brothers and I upon the gallows. He let us hang slowly. We convulsed and gagged for air, and then we died.”

Eclipse leans closer, hanging over Michael in a taunt. “This is the least I can bestow upon you. Never fear, there is far more punishment to be delivered.”

You’re rooted to the spot. Ice water flows in your veins.

“Come here,” Moon murmurs close beside you. His hand begins to circle your wrist.

“Don’t let him take you!” Vanessa’s voice cuts through the hazy terror fogging your mind, and you jerk back to alertness. You shake off Moon’s hand. His sharp breath of frustration follows as you take off over the graveyard towards Michael.

“Stop it! Whatever you’re doing to him, stop!” you cry out, reaching one hand out. You’re not sure who—Eclipse or Michael. 

Eclipse straightens upon his broom. His expression brightens into a pleased, unholy smile.

“Little comet,” he purrs, opening his arms.

“Eclipse, please—gah!” Arms grab you from behind. You hear Vanessa’s voice calling out, furious and demanding, but your feet leave the ground and in a heartbeat, you’re airborne.

“Sunshine, there you are!” The cheerful voice falls over you. Sun continues, “The wretched rabbit is getting her fur all over you! I never did like her, not even as a vermin.”

Large hands maneuver over you, pulling you onto his lap and balancing you in his hold while the broom rides faster, racing over the cemetery and away from everyone else. You gasp. You immediately twist and cling tightly to his shoulders. His hands surround you. His palms rub slowly along your back.

“I’ve got you now,” he declares. His breath, warm and misty, tickles your cheek. “One would think a person would be lonely and bored watching our home for all of these years, but that was what she did when she was mortal at her master’s request. So really, isn’t our curse just a lovely gift for her?”

“Sun!” You tremble. The wind tears at your clothes. You watch the ground become a blur underneath you, and a sickness stirs. “Please, set me down.”

“Not yet, sunshine.” The air changes, and the broom gains speed, pressing you deeper against his chest. “I want you for only a moment. You can say ‘I do’ can’t you? I’ll do the rest.”

“What—wait, wait,” your fingernails dig into the fabric of his cape hanging over his shoulders. The flight is far too fast and you feel far too vulnerable, seated upon his legs as your only insurance you won’t fall to your death. 

“Although,” Sun’s fingertips slip under your chin and tilt your face up, “it’s not fair that Eclipse kissed you and I haven’t. We can steal one before the ceremony, can’t we?”

Your tongue becomes heavy in your mouth. You can say little, caught in the torrent of the breakneck speed of the broom as well as the Sun’s sultry eyes devouring you whole. He lowers his mouth to your neck. His other hand caresses your thigh, fingertips touching your flesh with reverent want. Heat waterfalls into your middle. He lowers himself to your shoulder and grazes his teeth against your neck.

You inhale, your breath rattling at the touch of a warm and wet tongue dragging over the tips of your collarbones in the hollow of your throat.

“One kiss,” he half pleads, half demands. His lips brush your jawline in their climb upwards. 

“Too fast,” you utter. The world spins and blackness swoops in on your vision.

“I can go slow,” he assures, but when he lifts his head, his smile drops from his lips. “Sunshine!”

The world tilts, and you think of very little as hands grasp at you, but the broom rocks and you slide out of Sun’s hold as a curse rips from his throat. A wretched call rattles your darkening visible, and then, you’re falling.

Your eyelids flutter, and you hardly have a second to scream before a second pair of arms catch you and pull you against a cool chest.

“You buffoon!” Moon snarls right beside your ear. “You dropped our virgin!”

A numbness clings to your limbs. You’re still reeling, slumped in his lap as he rides on his broom at a much safer speed.

“I would not have let death take away our chance at happiness and life and love,” Sun shoots back, not unlike a sibling retort in an argument. 

“Go help Eclipse deal with the vermin!” Moon demands in a low growl. Sun snarls something back, but his voice fades in the distance.

You feel the wind shift, slowing down until you’re left to hover in the air. Eyes closed against Moon’s chest, you breathe rapidly. Your shaking hands press tight to his white shirt.

“I will keep you safe,” he murmurs softly into your air. “Step here, little mouse. This mausoleum wasn’t blessed, and it lies outside of the cemetery's boundaries.”

“Okay,” you murmur listlessly. You lift your head, trying to stop the spinning from within. Your legs shake like a newborn fawn but you feel dead grass underneath your shoes as Moon holds you up on your feet. His broom lowers gently to the ground and falls still as if there were no magic to the black wood staff at all.

“Breathe.” He moves you slowly, carefully pressing your back to the solid brick of a small, gray mausoleum. “Apologies for my brother. He is eager to make you our bride.”

Perhaps it only houses a small family. What is their history? Your brain churns over senselessly while the oxygen returns to your head. 

Did he say bride?

His hands find your shoulders and pin you in place. Chest heaving, you gaze up at the witch now hovering over you. There is no escape. You smell midnight and something herbal and sharp upon him.

“The vows,” he says. His eyes hold you captive. “You can say the vows to marry us.”

“Marry?” You’re breathless, but you ask all the same, “Why am I marrying you?”

“To have us,” he says, low and husky. He presses closer, caging you with his body and holding you hostage against the cool stones at your back. “You will know everything soon. There is so little time—the witch hunter and the rabbit are trying to spoil everything. Little mouse, look at me.”

You try to avert your gaze, turning your cheek, but his command causes you to buckle. 

“I will begin the vows.” Moon presses in closely. His chest is flush with your own, and you fear he can sense the wild fluttering of your heartbeat. You are not cool and suave, and you are still falling, falling, falling. 

“Will you take me to be your husband?”

“Moon,” you whisper. “I… I… I…”

His teeth flash. Then, he leans in, pressing close to your ear. A soft flick of his tongue against your cheek draws out a breath from you, just before he begins nibbling on the soft flesh of your earlobe. You gasp. Your hands find him, clinging tightly as flutters begin in your middle.

He releases your ear from his teeth but his mouth remains pressed close to the shell of it.

“Will you take me, so I will obey, serve, love, honor, and keep you in sickness and in health?” 

Your knees sink deeper but he refuses to let you slip out of his grasp. His claw hooks the collar of your sweater and stretches it, exposing your shoulder to the starlight.

His mouth lowers there. The press of his lips is soft and cool like a stone smoothed by a river. Your stomach burns with a flame you cannot name. He slowly opens his jaws, first licking your sensitive flesh until goosebumps run down your arms, then ever so delicately pressing his teeth into your shoulder. The tease of fang marks. The promise of more. He does not break the skin, but you mewl under his controlled bite.

He releases you. His hand cups your cheek as he straightens. 

“And forsaking all others,” he rasps, “keep you only unto me and my brothers, so long as we both shall live?”

Your bottom lips tremble from emotion. Confusion spins you.

Can you say ‘I do?’ Should you?

Moon softly caresses your cheek with his thumb. His eyes are gentle like pools in the starlight.

“I swear to love and cherish you,” his voice softens.

Your fingers curl around his wrists. He lowers himself to you, and your eyes flutter as his lips brush against yours—

“Get away, witch!”

Your eyes flash open. Moon’s gaze narrows into slits as he turns his head, pressing harder against you and trapping you against the mausoleum until you squirm. 

“Michael?” you gasp, peering over Moon’s shoulder, only to choke on your breath.

Over the slight hill from the true cemetery, a creature shambles. Purple flesh clings to bones, arms extended. Shuffling over the gnarled, dead grass, you watch as flesh splits and hangs by threads across his cheeks, exposing his molars. His nose is little more than a nasal bridge and two dark holes. His hair is dark and greasy, and his eyes are sunken, barely left save for black orbs and a single pinprick of light in each, like a lone flame of candlelight. 

“What did Eclipse do to you?” You feel faint. “No, no, no, change him back! Moon, please!”

“No need,” Moon steps forward to face your zombified friend. You almost drop to the ground when Moon’s hands leave you. A cold fury radiates around the witch’s cloak.

Bounding over the top of the hill, Vanessa appears. Her white fur is now smeared with dirt and her breaths are sharp and quick. She hops over to you. 

“Get up! Michael’s lavenders won’t keep the other two back for long!” Vanessa pushes against your leg, her tiny bunny body doing little to bring strength back to your limbs.

“Michael,” you whisper, clutching your mouth where the witch almost kissed you. “Eclipse has to take away the curse. He has to.”

“He won’t.” Vanessa’s eyes are dark, and hard. “We have to go.”

Your chest is hollow and your head swims. You watch Moon approach Michael in swift, sure steps. Michael’s arms are stiff and crooked, but his rotten fingers curl into a fist. Moon strikes and gouges his claws into Michael’s throat. You watch in muted horror as Moon rips away purple flesh and sinew. A rancid smell spills into the air. You gag, then scream out Michael’s name. The pale, bony column of his throat is exposed.

“You’re interrupting my wedding,” Moon hisses slowly at Michael before lifting his other hand.

Unphased, Michael throws a punch at the witch, and it hits with a burst of lavender petals. A screech drawls out of Moon. He falls backward. You hear the faintest sounds of Moon’s wretched snarls as Michael then awkwardly runs. His leg drags at the shin as if it were broken. You realize it is. Moon howls, clawing at the petals and trying to remove them from his person.

The witch calls out your name. You look back. His red eyes are furious, then desperate as Michael cuts in between the two of you. He brings his good foot down hard on Moon’s broomstick, and it snaps.

Moon screeches and writhes on the dried grass.

“Go,” Michael croaks. You stare at his gaping open neck but he takes you by the arms and hauls you back up to your feet. The scent of death is thick. “Now!”

You stumble, tears filling your eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, “I’m so sorry. I’ll make them change you back.”

“Just run,” Michael huffs, half decayed and struggling. “We have to get to town. We have to lose them. They only have until sunrise.”

Sunrise.

And a ceremony they wish to perform. 

[majinael]

"Not my style."

★Michael Kaiser x GN Reader (Angst(?) into fluff)

★TW: mentions of abuse

★937 words

★ can be perceived as OOC, but I believe he would act entirely different towards his childhood friends if he had any

I had known Michael since we were kids. I often found him at the park, playing football like it was the only thing in his world. And maybe it was. His clothes were perpetually worn and dirty, his pale skin marred by small cuts and bruises. When I asked, he’d always brush it off, saying he simply liked that outfit or that the bruises came from playing with his ball and helping his dad at home. I believed him, young and naive as I was. I’d share my snacks with him, and in return, he’d teach me how to play football, his passion shining through every kick and pass.

As the years passed, my parents pulled me into their bakery, one of the most renowned in town. Our paths diverged, but I never forgot him. Sometimes, I’d walk by the park, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. But one day, when I did, tears streamed uncontrollably down my face, crashing onto the cold pavement. In my trembling hand was a newspaper announcing his arrest for robbery. Everything clicked then—his shabby clothes, his bruises, the hollow look in his eyes. He wasn’t just a boy who loved football. He was a poor, hungry kid trapped in a home with an abusive father. Football had been his only escape, and I... I had done nothing to help.

I told myself I was too young to understand, too innocent to see the truth. But the guilt clung to me, a heavy shadow that wouldn’t fade.

That night, I dragged myself home, collapsing onto the couch where my dad was watching TV. The world spun around me until a shout broke through my haze.

"GOAL!!"

My eyes shifted to the screen, and for a moment, I could almost see Michael chasing the ball with that same fiery determination. A bittersweet smile crept onto my lips. That’s when I fell in love with football—not just the game, but what it represented. It was Michael’s legacy, the one thing he’d left with me. I started playing in my free time, replaying his words in my mind, letting the sport bridge the distance between us.

Years passed, and I inherited the bakery. Football became my solace, every match rekindling memories of our friendship. Then, one day, my television turned into a magic mirror, revealing the answer to a question I hadn’t dared to ask. What could he be doing ?

Michael was there. On my screen. Playing for Bastard München.

And oh, how he played. Every movement was precise, intense, beautiful. His tall, muscular frame, his cold, striking features, his blond hair tipped with blue—it was as if he had stepped out of a dream, wrapped in the elegance of a blue rose garden. My cheeks ached from smiling, my heart swelling with pride and something deeper I couldn’t name.

When the match ended, I knew one thing: I had to see him.

I wasn’t wealthy, but I scraped together enough to buy a ticket, luck granting me a seat near the front. The stadium’s atmosphere was electric, the roar of the crowd reverberating in my chest. But my eyes were only on him. Michael. That cocky smile of his stirred something in me I hadn’t felt before. And when his gaze briefly met mine, I was overcome—not just with admiration, but with pride.

The match ended far too soon. If you asked me what happened, I couldn’t tell you a thing beyond Michael’s every move. I was captivated, lost in the way he commanded the field.

As the stadium emptied, I lingered, unable to move, clutching a small blue bracelet I’d made for him—a simple token of waxed cords and a metallic rose pendant. I didn’t even notice the signing session at the exit. Even if I had, would I have gone? Fear gripped me. What if he didn’t recognize me? Or worse, what if he did and resented me for my inaction all those years ago?

A presence behind me shattered my thoughts.

“It’s been a while, (Y/N).”

His voice was unmistakable, and my breath hitched. Tears threatened to fall as I turned, finding him standing there, his expression softer than I ever remembered.

Without thinking, I threw my arms around him. For a moment, he froze, but then his arms enveloped me, holding me as if he’d never let go.

“I don’t even know where to start, Micha...” My voice trembled as tears spilled freely.

He pulled back slightly, his cold features melting into an uncharacteristic gentleness. “Let’s not talk about the past,” he said quietly. “Give me your number before I have to leave.”

I handed him my phone, heart racing as he typed in his digits.

“I missed you,” I blurted, unable to stop myself.

His lips curled into a faint smile—a rare, genuine expression of happiness.

“I have something for you,” I said, hesitating before placing the bracelet in his hand. He chuckled softly, inspecting it.

“That’s... adorably not my style,” he teased, “but I’ll keep it.”

My smile faltered. “You don’t have to if you don’t like it—”

“I said I’ll keep it,” he interrupted, his tone firm yet amused. “I’ll find a use for it.”

Before I could say more, he stepped away. “I have to go.”

“Take care, Michael,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

That night, a text lit up my phone: “Care about yourself. Don’t worry about me.” I chuckled, knowing it was impossible.

The next time I saw him on TV, he was wearing the bracelet. My heart swelled as I sent him a message: “Not your style, huh?”

His reply was immediate: “Don’t read into it.”

But I did. And I always would.

[averywiseanimatedcat]

6 months on it still thinking about how much of a shock that kiss must’ve been to Aziraphale.

The way Crowley steers his cooperation around really gave Aziraphale no warning at all. I was thinking about the development of their body language and it’s interesting to me so have an analysis under the cut.

Crowleys body language doesn’t change all that much over the course of their history. After their initial meetings as angels then in Eden, Crowleys already leaning in, orbiting and slinking around in quite a comfortable, familiar way. He tends to angle his body towards Aziraphale and stands quite close to him. He shows no sign of being fearful or uncomfortable. He quite happily moves in and around Aziraphales personal space without a care in the world even when they hardly knew each other yet.

Aziraphale however starts out looking guarded and unsure. He often stands facing forward while talking to Crowley sideways.

As we go through history Aziraphale becomes more comfortable. He opens up, starts to angle his body more towards Crowley, stops guarding with his hands and moves into Crowleys space on his own. And he starts to initiate physical contact where it’s not even necessary.

But the only times I can think of Crowley initiating physical contact before the kiss are ones that could easily be written off as just friendly or something else like

The wall push (which was aggressive)

The magic shop handshake is practical for sealing the deal

The handhold for the swap (mutual initiation, also practical we assume)

Sitting on the arm of the chair and kinda sorta leaning on Aziraphale when Muriel turns up

Crowley also tends to reject Aziraphales touch by removing himself from it like in the 1800’s, dodging with some roundabout footwork or leaning away. With moments like the pub or the shoulder touch he doesn’t have much of a visible reaction. Granted his eyes are hidden but Aziraphale probably thinks he just doesn’t like being touched. And yes, apparently they like holding hands, but do they know the other likes holding hands?

And I can hear you say ok then why does Crowley always put himself within touching distance if he don’t wanna be touched? Yeah, he does, but from Aziraphales perspective Crowley has always done this. He’s always been standing close or leaning in. It’s just how he is. Aziraphale is the one who’s changed. He’s become walking megaphone just blasting ‘please hold my hand before I discorporate on the spot pleasepleaselpleaseplease…’

Aziraphale is clearly a physical touch being. Brilliant acting and direction with Michael and how Aziraphale reaches for Crowley in the most stressful or emotionally charged moments. How there’s times where he seems to stop himself mid motion from touching Crowley. Such as after Gabriels appearance and Az is trying to keep Crowley calm

When Crowley says he’s going to take the humans out

And when Crowley goes to take Maggie and Nina out of the bookstore when Heaven and Hell are there. There is a safety element here as it’d be unwise for him to show his affection with Heaven or Hell around but Aziraphales first instinct is to reach for him. And again, great direction and acting with how David just gets out of the way like Crowley does it all the time. It’s another dance they do, Aziraphale pursues with physical affection, Crowley avoids. And Aziraphale doesn’t want to cross boundaries he’s perceiving Crowley to be putting up around physical affection so he’s holding it back.

And I think all that is part of the reason Aziraphale looks angry after the kiss. He’s possibly thinking (among many other things) that Crowley has rejected or ignored his physical affection all this time, making Aziraphale think he didn’t want it when he did. And that would be a painful thing to realise when you thought you yearned alone.

So I don’t blame Aziraphale for being upset when he gets this sudden enormous dose of physical contact out of the blue. He had no warning. On the contrary, Crowleys been acting like a big, prickly, demonic cactus. And it would’ve been endlessly confusing to be kissed after years believing the want for even the lightest of touches wasn’t reciprocated.

[exponenshul]

People occasionally ask me about the origins of my pregnancy/birth kink, and I just remembered something that I think was pretty crucial.

When I was in middle school I read the book “FEAR,” the fifth installment in a series by Michael Grant. It was honestly a bit too dark, gorey, and violent to be considered a young adult novel, but I digress.

Near the end of the book is a scene where one of the main characters is pregnant, and her pregnancy is accelerated by the external force of a powerful alien. She’s tired and scared to give birth but is forced to do so in a cave deep underground. I’d send the pages but I don’t have the book anymore, sadly.

This is the first and only time I’d ever read about a rapid pregnancy, and I think it really captivated me.

So yeah. Food for thought. Has anyone else ever read this book?