#let me vibe in the woods like the witch I am

[camille-lachenille]

I am so f*cking angry right now! Angry at this f*cked up society where you need to be useful, productive, profitable for the economy and other bullsh*t!

I want to be a librarian that makes children want to read and invent their own stories. I want to be surrounded by books and create a warm, friendly, inclusive space for anyone who needs it, the misfot and outcasts that find escape in reading.

But no, I am repeatedly being told that I shouldn't do what I truly want to do as a job because it's not adaptable enough, that I won't find work after I finish my formation and so on.

I am autistic and have EDS. THanks to chronic fatigue, I barely have the energy and ability to do what I love, and society is telling me to renounce to it and learn a job I tolerate at best in order to be profitable? F*ck them! F*ck them all!

I want to spend what little energy I have being happy, vibing in the woods and petting a cat on a snowy winter evening as I read. I want to do what I do best; that is taking care of myself and my loved ones, trying to make the world better on my scale. Not write f*cking contracts for a lawyer or a notary because I have the brain to do it and it pays well. Yes, I would have money, but I would also be miserable doing paperwork all day and collapsing in exhaustion afterwards, not having the time to do what I love, not having the time to be myself.

I am angry, and exhausted, and I hate how this society works, how it squeezes people until they have nothing more to give and then some more. I am angry and exhausted at how disabled people that "aren't disabled enough" (whatever that means) have to try harder to fit in and be useful to society. And I am telling the people who tell me I should not do what I love in my life: I won't be useful if I am miserable and exhausted. But if you let me be, if you give me the time to rest and recover afterwards, I will give freely so much more than what you ask. I will pour my heart in making children happy, in creating a place where everyone is safe and welcome no matter who they are, and IT WILL BE USEFUL. I just need time to take care of myself, and do what I love at a pace I can bear in the long term.

[cassiebones]

Agatha Harkness: Character Study

I'm gonna be real with you: I do not read Marvel comics. I have read some that others have bough for me (Miss Marvel, for instance, which I loved) but I'm not really into comics like that. So I do not know the lore surrounding Agatha. Everything I know is from WandaVision and Agatha All Along and everything I write will also be based on that.

That being said, let's begin.

Agatha is dramatic.

This bitch is the most dramatic person I have ever seen and I love that for her, to be completely honest. She also gives so few fucks sometimes. Like when she was naked in the middle of a residential street, her cheeks just in the wind. Beautiful. Love to see it.

Like every time she wants to make a dramatic exit, she deliberately swishes the tail of her coat as she walks away. Even when there's nobody there to see it. Just for the vibes. Love that.

And she loves deeply and sometimes without her permission. You can just tell. When she's under Wanda's spell, chasing teen down the alley and he gets hit by the car, she is immediately concerned for this random child's safety. She makes sure that he's okay before anything else. You can't tell me that now, in episode four, she doesn't care for this kid like he's her own son (even if he's not). She gives him her coat, leaving her without the ability to swish it dramatically; that's love, bitch.

And I think she has this deep-seated guilt inside her. Like she blames herself for Nicholas's death, which I do think she does. She couldn't save him from his fate, as hard as she tried. I think that a big part of her anger at Rio is directed at herself, as well. She let her son go, which she will never forgive herself for.

And she loves Rio. We can see that so clearly when they share that moment in the woods. She tries not to, of course, but she can't really resist for long. And I don't think it's just because of their sexual past, but their romantic one, as well. There's no doubt in my mind that they were married in their past life. That, despite legality, they probably had a big ceremony, probably with witnesses there. They declared their love and pledged to be with one another, til death, smiling because they know even death won't keep them apart (one of them is Death, after all).

I am not really sure if Agatha was with a man before and that's how she got Nicholas, or if she had somehow adopted him with Rio (???) idk. All I know is she loved her son and she did not give him up for the Darkhold. His death left a pretty sizeable gap in her heart for sure. I feel like, no matter how Nicholas came into their lives, Rio also considered him hers.

(Side note: I need there to be a fight where Agatha takes out all of her grief about Nicholas on Rio, blaming her for his death and reaping his soul and Rio just shouts back "he was my son, too!" Is that too much to ask?)

She loved Rio and Nicholas so much and she lost them both in one fell swoop. When she got her hands on the Darkhold and Nicholas was already gone and Rio was the one that took him completely away, she made herself disappear so that Rio couldn't find her until Wanda took away her magic. Because the second that magic was gone and no longer hiding her, Rio found Agatha, probably yearning for her for however long it had been (decades? centuries?) since she'd last laid eyes on her. I wonder if there were any other "shows" that Rio was a guest star in. Medical dramas? Sitcoms? Dark comedies? Mockumentaries (totally not picturing their Parks & Rec characters rn)? Did Rio come to her as soon as Wanda took her magic? Did she wait a bit, try to play it cool? She definitely did with the crime drama.

Also Agatha's relationship with each of the other coven witches is...interesting.

I feel like Lilia was somewhat of a mentor to her in her early years, when she was still a young child, just learning to do magic. Maybe she was a neighbor. Maybe Agatha's mother detested her, which is why Agatha was fascinated by her.

Then there's Jennifer Kale, who is probably a bit younger than Agatha, but still centuries old. Had they met prior? It feels like they had a situationship that soured quickly. Maybe Jennifer was once a member of one of Agatha's covens, but dipped out before she had her powers - and life - drained. She was bound anyway, but not by Agatha, at least. I feel like they've kissed at least once, anyway.

I don't think Agatha had met Alice before, but maybe she knew her mother. She probably was a fan of the cover (she knew it so well) and might've crossed paths with Lorna once or twice. Lorna, who was terrified of a generational curse that may have been placed on her daughter. I can imagine Agatha saying, a bit callously, "at least you have a child to worry over still." I love that she was the one that figured out the protection spell for Alice.

Agatha is smart. So smart. She has centuries of knowledge, but it's not just that. She also - despite her callousness - is pretty intuitive. She is able to sense when somebody is stressed or double-guessing themselves and say exactly what they need to hear. She shows kindness in those moments. True kindness. For her, I believe it takes effort to be seriously cruel. She might have to justify it to herself.

She's obviously not a saint. She was the villain (yes, villain) in WandaVision. One of them, anyway. The major one. But I really love antagonists like this: complicated, three-dimensional, not completely evil.

When Agatha Harkness cares, she does so deeply and sometimes against her will. I can't imagine she immediately fell in love with Rio Vidal. That was definitely a slow burn, but one that fully consumed her eventually until the only way to really get away from Rio was to shroud herself with dark magic so that Rio couldn't find her. I think she knew that, when and if Rio found her, she would be unable to resist for too long before falling back into her embrace.

I really love this character.

[dellalyra]

reading your shoko writing made me think about if reader and shoko joke about running away together, suguru just encourages it while satoru is all pouty

𓇬 Cottagecore 𓇬

“I am so fucking tired of this shit.” You groan into the cushion you’ve buried your face in.

“What’s happened?” Shoko asks, poking your head.

“Fucking assholes. All of them.” You continue.

Shoko looks at the boys, hoping they’ve got answers as to why you’re face down in the sofa.

Geto turns to her, wrestling a mochi off Satoru.

“The higher ups are trying to stop her from being part of the Exchange Event - saying her CT isn’t well suited for taking part, doesn’t even make sense, they just don’t want her to get any glory.” He shrugs. Shoko should’ve guessed it was them, trying to put roadblocks down in Y/N’s way simply to piss her off.

“Bro - if Satoru can take part then how the fuck can Y/N not, he could just wipe the whole damn school out.” Shoko rolls her eyes, switching from poking your head to patting it.

You turn your head to her, frowning and pouting like a scolded puppy. You knew you’d be taking part, whether they wanted you to or not - but your frustration with them was understandable.

“I am gonna turn them all into trees.” You mutter, now face planting into her shoulder.

“Sounds good, honey.” She agrees.

You groan when you realise that’s technically murder.

“Wanna just run away together?” Shoko says.

“Oh my god yes, no boys allowed.” You nod. Satoru’s head whips around at this.

“We’ll get a little cottage in the woods, total cottage core vibes.” Shoko adds, messing with Satoru by joking about taking away the girl he was in love with and providing you with a welcome fantasy distraction were two duties of being a best friend.

Suguru quickly smirked at Shoko, catching on.

“You could like - grow your own food and get those weird ducks you like Y/N. Shoko you could be like the village witchy healer.” He adds, as Satoru starts to frown and he looks about an inch away from a toddler style tantrum when you suggest it’s time for the toys to be put away.

In his case, he’s not letting you leave!

“You can visit once a year, Suguru.” You agree.

“What about me? Why can’t I come?” Satoru quickly adds, and you turn to face him.

Seems someone hasn’t caught onto it all being a joke.

“You can come annually with Suguru. Shoko and I are going into hiding. We’re going to be cool forest witches.” You nod, smile bright.

“Well - where will you go? Because I’ll just buy a house next door.” He says, with an actual pout on his lips.

“Bro calm down, we’re not actually going - you’d have to kill me first to have me live in the woods.” Shoko adds.

“Well I’ll go alone then.” You pipe up.

“No! If Shoko’s not going on your fake trip, then I am! I’ll bring you. I’ll buy your fantasy land cottage and we can live together! Shoko, that’s so mean to suggest a pretend trip and then bail!” Satoru adds, much to your delight - he’s no idea that your dream future is marrying Satoru and living in a sweet cottage with a pretty garden, and here he is suggesting that. Suguru and Shoko swear your pupils turned into hearts hearing this, and found it especially funny that you mention something and Satoru immediately plans to give it to you.

“Hmm… can I have the ducks?” You tap your chin, trying to hide the blush overtaking your face as Satoru nods excitedly.

The four of you then sit and plan what your future houses will look like, successfully distracting you from the white haired boy who is sitting so close to you that you can feel the heat from his skin and smell his tea tree shampoo.

You’re both so fucking whipped, and you’re not even dating. Yet. Because we all know it’s just a matter of time.

If someone had a crystal ball, they’d have seen you and Satoru lifting cardboard boxes, 6 years down the line into the sweetest little cottage - with a very pretty garden and two excited kids by your side and a disgruntled Aunty Shoko beside them.

[lottiecrabie]

patrick bateman smut? hey. Hi. um. Patrick bateman smut pls? heyyy queen lol American psycho smut when hahaha (please)

sorry for the last prank guys i was in a mischievous mood (when am i not)

the basement is drenched in a red, soft light. over the lamp, a lacy shawl lays, orchestrating some moody, spooky vibe. a tired witch hangs from the door. on each stair, a small plastic pumpkin stares at them. through the floor, the resounding thumps of feet jumping up and up, as well as the on-key pop music, echoes your heartbeat. thump. thump. thump. matty stares at you like a predator.

there’s something glinting in his teeth, a sort of edge to the shape of them. his striped suit fits him perfectly. his hair is slicked back. he’s all proper, if not for the blood splattered over his face, and that ax. his chest rises with his deep, quick breaths. his eyes darken.

‘sorry,’ you try to say, though your lips crack up and it doesn’t sound very honest. in your hands, an open packet of fake blood stains your palms.

matty arches an eyebrow. there’s danger in just that. ‘are you?’

‘it fits your costume.’ matty hums lowly, taking a step towards you. that prey instinct in you, half stress and half desire, takes a step pack. your grin slackens on your mouth. he takes another. ‘it was just a joke.’

your legs hit the back of the beat-up couch. you stumble on it, catching yourself on the dusty pillows. he towers over you, maniacal twinkle in his eyes. the gentle caress of your face, stroking down your cheek, surprises you. like you expected something to toughen, to hurt.

‘are you gonna make it up to me?’ he whispers. you nod fervently. ‘yeah?’ he pouts, condescending. ‘how?’ you’re robbed of words. he knows this.

he grabs the bottle of blood, holding two weapons in each hand. you expect it when the blood hits you straight in the chest, trickling down. you gasp still, cold and wet and dirty. he grins, a little proud, and there’s something sick in you that preens at that.

‘you’re gonna let it stain like that?’ he says, and suddenly you’re pulling out of your pink dress. you’re in nothing but your underwear; the blood drips down your breasts, droplets falling on your stomach and lap.

matty makes a low noise, kneeling down and catching a breast in his mouth. his hand paints the other, spreading the blood just to lick it all up. he bites meanly at your nipples, prickle of pleasure-pain blooming. you moan, head thrown back on the pillows.

his mouth is bloody when he lets your tits go, grinning up at you. ‘d’you want me, sweetheart?’ he says, and he again knows. ‘like this?’ he looks down to himself, the twisted image he’s showing off.

you bite your lip. he tugs it out, blood smearing on your mouth. you lick it off, nervous. his hand parts your legs, hot and decided between your thighs. you shiver, spreading them for him, giving him the answer in ways that aren’t so concrete, so embarrassing.

you ready for a tough, callused finger at the center of your underwear. shake just from the sheer need of it. instead, matty raises his fake ax, grazing the cold metal on the inside of your thigh, just to push the wooden handle against your core. you jump, gasping, moaning from the contact.

‘matty…’

‘grind.’ he’s fatalistic. your hips follow order, rolling and bucking against the ax, hot shame dripping with ecstasy. you dig your nails into the couch, moaning and mewling at the pleasure, at the wood, at the dark look on his face as he watches you.

his head bends down, revering, kissing up your goosebumps-thighs. the blood from his lips follow, a lick of blood to mark you, to own you.

you draw in a hot breath, shaking, feeling that sick pleasure build in you.

‘you’re a naughty girl,’ matty whispers against you, and you vaguely shake your head at that. ‘you think you deserve to come?’

‘please.’ matty snorts. he throws the ax away, unimportant now that it’s out of his hands, out of your thighs. you make a moan of disappointment, rocking against nothing uselessly. he laughs at that.

he stands up, pushing you back on the couch until you’re lying for him. his hand tugs your panties off, thrown beyond the world that means something too. you’re open and naked and vulnerable, and he’s kneeling above you, fully clothed and bloody. there’s something unhinged about the knowledge, the sight. something that mixes with the lust, taints it.

matty unbuttons his pants and draws out his hard cock, but that’s as far as he’s willing to undress. he strokes it once, twice. arches an eyebrow. ‘i don’t know if you’re ready for me.’

‘i am,’ you nod, desperate. your legs spread open for him, a traitorous squelching noise following. ‘fuck, i need you.’

‘you’re so fucking dirty.’ he tuts, reaching to the floor. you try to look over, curious. ‘would let me have you anywhere, as anyone, right? even this.’

‘yes.’

matty springs back up with the bottle. he splashes the remainder of it over your body, fingerpainting it over your belly, your thighs, your wet cunt. you gasp as he brushes your sensitive clit, not giving you what you need still. he takes a red hand to his cock, pumping it once, twice, then enters you.

you gasp, clutching his hip as it snaps into you, over and over, a brutal tempo that has your mind deliriously spinning out of your ears. you moan and cry and curse, and all he does his breathe heavily in your ear, laughing every time his name slips out.

a hand covers your throat, owning and strong. you shake under him. he’s delighted, so fucking amused as he presses into your neck until thoughts fly away. your lips hang open, the sound of his name dried out.

‘this is how we treat bad girls like you, isn’t it?’ you try to nod or say yes, but his cock fucking into you and his hand choking you are all too much to make anything coherent. you claw at his skin, vengeful. matty tsks. ‘not that it fucking works. you like it too much.’

you laugh, rolling your eyes back. matty presses a free hand to your clit, rubbing away. ‘gonna brat out all the time now, is that it? so you can get fucked filthy like you want?’

to give you a chance, he releases your throat, blood rushing back to your head in one overwhelming wave of euphoria. your fingertips tingle as you gasp for each mouthful of air, grinning slackly. matty smiles in your neck, biting there.

‘gonna say sorry, brat?’

‘sorry!’

matty hums. ‘why don’t i believe you?’ he pinches your clit, making you clench around him.

you pout, crying, ‘i’msorryi’msorryi’msorry.’

his dark eyes are ruthless. ‘why don’t you beg for mercy?’

everything is too intense. tears fill up your eyes as you grip him between shaky hands, moaning and screaming. ‘please, matty. i need— fuck, it’s too—‘ you throb around him. his thrusts are mercilessly, snapping incessantly. his work at your clit is diligent, knowing just how to get you dumb and wrecked. ‘god—‘

‘there’s no god here.’

‘matty.’ he twitches inside of you. you blink up at him, eyes wetting with euphoria. ‘matty. matty. matty. please. matty.’

tears stream down your face. he groans, bending down to lick some, fucking harder just to pull some more pathetic cries out of you. his hand presses into your cheeks. ‘you’re so fucking pretty when you’re ruined.’ he grins. ‘i love it when you cry.’ somehow, this has another strike of euphoria hit you.

‘i’m—‘ you feel the taste of ecstasy on your lips. you can’t hold on any longer. ‘matty, i need to—‘

‘come, angel.’ with a scream, you fall apart on his cock, washed away on his dirty couch.

he follows behind soon after, pulling out and stroking himself until ropes of cum hit your bloody tits. he pants above you, staring down at the mess of your body hungrily.

a hand strokes through the blood and cum, painting your skin like an artist. matty brings his hand over your mouth, lingering just far enough that you have to tilt your head up to lick it off his palm. ‘there’s my good girl,’ matty whispers. you smile up at him, proud. dirty hand strokes your hair. that same beating danger shines in his eyes as he peers down at you. ‘catch your breath and then you can clean my cock too.’

[teapartypenguin]

Fairy Tale Allusions in Yugioh 5Ds

So I was rewatching 5Ds and Akiza's duel against the knight dude got me thinking about the fairy tale allusions in her design and arc, and thinking about it more got me to realize that 5Ds actually has a lot of loose fairy tale allusions throughout it. So here are just a couple of the ones I noticed:

Akiza in general: Akiza's first duel of the series was already really heavy with the knight vs. witch symbolism. It also got me thinking about the "Princess, Witch, and Prince" theme from Revolutionary Girl Utena. A very basic rundown of what Utena says on it is that people will try to sort women into a box of good (Princess) or bad (Witch) based on how much they conform to the concept of what a girl should be like, a good Princess has to trade independence for protection from a Prince, any girl that doesn’t agree is a Witch. Problem is that no woman is ever just one of those things at a time, and Akiza definitely isn't. She is at first feared for her power, labelled the evil Black Rose Witch, and attempts to find comfort and safety in her "Prince" (Sayer). Only when she meets Yusei and the gang and finds acceptance from them and her parents do we see that she's actually a very kind girl. And even then, she doesn't go trading one Prince for another, she's never as reliant on Yusei as she was with Sayer and maintains her independence. Also just her deck in general carries the theme with fairy tale-like imagery (roses, knights, witches, fairies, and a dragon).

Akiza + Yusei: These two are basically Beauty and the Beast. I am a major faithshipping fan, but even if you take out the romantic aspects, it still fits. Yusei being Beauty and Akiza being the Beast for obvious reasons. The scene with Yusei waking Akiza in the hospital also gives major Sleeping Beauty vibes as well (this scene also owns my soul).

The rose imagery also still fits with both of them.

Yusei: He's Cinderella: he's a poor boy, goes to a ball that he wasn't supposed to go to (Neo Domino), has to leave at midnight (gets arrested), but leaves behind a "glass slipper" (the mark of the Crimson Dragon) that makes it so that the prince (Godwin) can track him down and give him another shot at freedom (not for altruistic purposes of course, but it still fits).

Jack and Carly: Scoopshipping are The Little Mermaid. The mermaid (Carly) falls in love with the prince (Jack), but for certain reasons, they cannot be together. Said mermaid makes a deal, by trading her soul, she gains legs (Dark Signer abilities + duel runner) which allows her a second chance to go after the prince. But the prince rejects her proposal (because she's undead and evil now), and the mermaid concedes. But being unable to hold up her end of the deal, she turns into sea foam and dies (turns into dust and dies).

Leo and Luna: Luna's deck already has a loose fairy forest type theme (and in the manga, has a Fairy Tale archetype). I want to say they're Hansel and Gretel. Has the same beats of two siblings getting lost in the woods (Luna with her spirit world adventure, Leo dueling Devack with "Closed Forest" up). But most of it comes from their duel with Devack, in which Hansel (Leo) stalls the witch (Devack) for as long as possible until Gretel (Luna) can kill the witch by pushing him into the oven (win the duel). You could also say that Luna's arc of freeing Ancient Fairy Dragon has elements of Rapunzel (saving the princess from the witch that locked her up).

Those are at least the ones I noticed. I doubt all of them were intentional but it's interesting when you make the connections. Let me know if there's any I missed because I'm not done with my rewatch yet and don't have anything for Crow. Feel like Team Satisfaction and Neo Domino City have Wizard of Oz parallels, but haven't got enough info to say how yet.

[hot-bumblebees]

Tricked

Olrox x witch male reader smut

Cw: hand jobs, softish sex, anal. Nothing crazy. Reader is aromatic btw.

Guys I know he’s with mizirak but I need him and mizirak broke his heart, he made him cry and that’s not chill.

Maybe a little ooc

….

The wind whistled throughout the dark town, making old wood creek and old signs cry. You clung onto your cloak as you walked through the empty streets trying find place that wasn’t so windy so you could open a portal. Finally you found a small sheltered area and went to it, staring to chant the words to open said portal. A blue circle started forming and it was getting brighter, but just before it could fully develop you were stopped by a strange mist.

“What’s your name?” A seductive voice asked.

“Why do you want to know?” You asked rather aggressively as your eyes narrowed. There was a weird vibe coming from what ever entity was surrounding you and it wasn’t helping you trust it.

Before your question was answered the mist grouped up turning into a human like figure with the most piercing green eyes you’ve ever seen.

“I need to know if I found the right person or if you’re going to become my next victim.” It answered as it moved closer to you.

You hesitated before giving it a fake name that people still knew you as. Knowing that giving out a real name to the wrong person could lead you to a hassle you opted out to giving it a fake name that people still knew you as.

But it wasn’t taking your lies and stepped frighteningly closer, towering over you as its green eyes stared into your soul.” You’re lying.” It blatantly stated as it finally showed itself. It was a man, a very beautiful man. He had darker skin but it somehow lacked colour, the brown colour came out as dull and his lips were a faint purple. His hair was impressive, it was long and silky so that even when the smallest gust of wind past by It would move.

You knew you should’ve probably been scared, horrified even, but you couldn’t stop yourself from feeling excited. You had to try very hard not to smile, making the man in front of you confused.

“Fine I’ll tell you my name if you give me a piece of your hair.” You try to comprise. It was fair, if he tried anything you could get him right back.

“No.” He declined defensively, showing his pointy teeth.

“Ah a vampire.” You laugh and get out from under him.” Good luck with trying to suck me dry. My blood is poisonous to vampires.” You say in a bragging tone as you walk back into the windy alley. But you didn’t get too far before he stood in front of you again.

“Garlic doesn’t harm us if that’s what you’re talking about. And I won’t hesitate to kill you for fun if you don’t cooperate.” He let out a devious laugh.

“I’m not talking about garlic.” You pulled your shirt collar down, revealing two scared puncture wounds.” And why won’t you give me your hair? Don’t you want your answer?” You look at him with a teasing look.

“It’s precious to me and you might use it to harm me.”

“Yeah if you give me reason, I’m not out here hexing people Willy nilly. I’ve got better things to do”

He hesitated for a moment before pulling off a strand and giving it to you.

“Perfect…” you put his hair in a little bottle and gave him your full attention.” My name is y/n l/n. Am I who you’re looking for? Hmm Olrox?” You peer up at him through your eyelashes, his face giving slight indication that you freaked him out by using his name, the one he’s never told you.

“Indeed you are the one I’m looking for.”

“What can I help you with?”

“I need your help finding something out and since you already know my name without me telling you, I assume you’re pretty good at your craft.”

“You could say that.” You humbly agreed.” I guess I’ll bring you back to my house.” You position your hands to open a portal like you had originally planned.” But you got to promise that you’ll behave.”

He smiled.” You’ve got my hair after all, I would be a fool if I did.”

The portal opened and you stood to the side letting him go in first and then following him, closing the portal.

“You can sit there.” You motioned to a table with a pretty f/c cover on it. He complied and sat on a chair watching you.” Can I offer you anything? Food? Tea? Wine?” You offer.

“I’m good, but thanks.” He replied as he tucked some hair behind his pointed ear.

“Suit yourself.”

Olrox sat patiently at the table as you got yourself a bottle of wine. You sat yourself across from him and took a sip out of the bottle.

“So what could a high and mighty vampire like you need from me?”

“I need your talents-“

You looked at him like he grew another head and drank again.” Ya no shit, what do you need?”

“Well if you let me finish you would have herd that I want you to tell me what that masia is up to.” He said with a repulsed look on his face.

“Ok then.” You pull out various tarot card decks.” Pick one.” He picks one of the decks. “Good choice this is one of my favourites.”

And so you got to work, telling him all that he needed to know. At some point he started drinking along side you, hearing about that stupid massia was really pissing him off.

“I feel like you already knew this.” You say as you pack up the cards.

“I’ve had my suspicions. It’s nice to hear things from another person whether it’s true or not.” His voice slower than before, making his voice so much hotter.

“You made me do me something that has no value to you? That’s like going to see a prostitute and not cuming, it’s a waste of time.” You dead pan.

“All though I’m not much of a believer your reading was quite accurate.”

You roll your eyes. This guy threatening your life to give him answers just turn out to be a none believer.” Do you want anything else?” You ask, hoping he would decline.

“My hair back.”

“That’s not gonna happen, not until I know you’re trust worthy.” you replied.

He rolled his eyes.

…

For some reason Olrox kept on coming back for nothing, he didn’t want potions or spells, he just liked being around you and drinking all your wine. He would come late at night and be weirdly sweet towards you but you didn’t suspect any ill intent from him. Maybe he just didn’t like being alone, he was in a foreign country after all.

At one point he even started letting you play with his hair, it makes him fall asleep. Some nights he would uncover a little more about his life, it made you sad, his life was very unfortunate. It had not been kind to him.

…

Fall was here and it was getting colder and although Olrox didn’t have a pulse or didn’t have circulating blood it was nice when he would come over and share a bed with you.

It was a rather calm night, not too cold or windy so you decided to go sweep the porch out side. You hummed a little song as you swept the dirt as you enjoyed the scenery around you.

What you didn’t expect was a some what angry vampire to appear right in front of you.

“What have you done with my hair?” He asked calmly but angrily.

You look around confused.” I haven’t done anything with it. It’s sitting in the house untouched.”

“Bullshit! You’ve done something to me.” His eyes glow a brighter green as he backs you up against the railing.

“What are you talking about?” You started to get mad with his accusations. He was your friend you wouldn’t do anything bad to him.

“You put a love spell on me! I can’t get you out of my head whenever I’m away from you and you even made it so that my unbeating heart does things when I’m around you! I trusted you!” He expressed a feeling of betrayal with narrowed eyes.

You stood there on disbelief.” You’re a fucking idiot.” You chuckled now, moving you and Olrox around, backing him up against the railing.” I’ve been single for the majority of my life happily and I’m nearly as old as you are, so what makes you think that you’re so special that I would go against my own ethics and put a love spell on you?” You ask expecting an answer back never got one.” Don’t get me wrong I’m flattered and I like when you stick around, but I did nothing, this was all you.” You inch closer to his face and placing your hands on his.” So if your going to love me…” Your eyes look into his and then to his lips.” Love me properly.” It came out quietly so that only the two of you could hear. You closed the gap and gently brushed your lips against his trying to see if he would reciprocate.

Olrox was in shock, his body freezing, too many emotions coursing through him. Ranging from guilt to anger to happiness. Olrox was furious that he had fallen in love with you on his own and that it wasn’t your fault. You hadn’t put a spell on him, if you had it wouldn’t be real therefor he wouldn’t have to act on it. But now his feeling were real and he hadn’t had the chance to sit in denial about them, because you were a witch and you held power over his feelings, so he immediately thought that you would toy with his feelings. Now he felt guilty for thinking that about you, you were nice to him in a way that no one had been in a long time. Maybe that’s what made him fall in love with you and thinking you put spell on him was his denial. But it didn’t matter now that your soft lips were against his. Leaving all his thoughts in the past he reciprocated the kiss.

The kiss was soft, the kind that two lovers share. It was slow and passionate as you guys sucked gently on each other’s lips. His hands moved to your lower back to pull you closer to him as your hands went around his neck. You guys moaned in each other’s mouths as your tongues got involved in the act of passion.

You guys had lost track of time as your bodies moved against each other. The only thing pulling you guys out of your make out session was the sound of the front door opening and closing. You separated from Olrox, who seemed to still be in a daze, and turned your head, keeping your hands on the man in front of you.

It was your apprentice who you had completely forgot about, who was currently looking at you and Olrox with a mild look of disgust.

“Are you leaving now?” You ask.

“Of course I am. I don’t wanna listen to whatever you guys are gonna do.” She says in a monotone voice.

“Well be safe.” You say as you watch her go down the stairs and turns around.

“Bye y/n, bye Olrox.” She waved and walked off.

You returned your attention to Olrox and pushed a stray hair behind his pointy ear.

“We should go inside.” You suggest as you pull away from him and walk towards the door, keeping it open for him when he came and closed it behind him.” Go get ready, I’ll meet you in my room.” You tell him then place a kiss on his cheek.

You went to your room and lit a bunch of candles and some love incense while you were at it. You took your shirt off and put on some love oil that smelled of rose and lavender with hints of cinnamon. Deciding to get real fancy with it, you reached for the kohl you bought for quite the price considering it came all the way from the Middle East, and applied it to your water line making your eye colour pop. You put the Khol down and reach for your favourite lipstick and apply it. Looking in the mirror you knew that all this effort was going to be destroyed in a short amount of time but you didn’t care. You looked cute.

You put the lipstick down and In the mirror you see Olrox approaching you. He was wearing the house coat that you hung on the bathroom door. Once he got behind you he wrapped his strong arms around your waist.

“I thought you weren’t for the the whole romance thing.” He teased as he looked around soaking in the scenery that was lit up by the warm glow of the candles. He looked back into the mirror after to look at you face, your pretty face now iluminated by candle light and decorated with makeup. He thought your features were so perfect, he could stare at you for hours with heart eyes if he had time.

“Just cause I can’t feel things or don’t understand it doesn’t mean that I don’t want to try. Besides I like when things look pretty.” You explain as you turn around to face him wrapping your arms around his waist.

“You’re so cute and pretty.” He awed as he moved his hands to your face to pull you close to kiss you.

You pulled him towards your bed, sitting down and having Olrox straddle you. You both continue to kiss even when you’re running out of air. You could feel Olroxs hard dick against your lap as he grinded against you. Your hands let go of his waist and went in-between the two of you. You took your member out and began to stroke it as you other hand went to undo the knot of his house coat. Your hand went to his bare hip as you continued to kiss, waiting for a good time to pull away. Thankfully you guys came to a stop due to Olrox getting curious of what your hands where doing. His green eyes peered down to where he sat and saw you attending to yourself.

“Starting without me?” He teasingly asked as his right hand went to his cock to stroke it and take yours too. Pressing his dick against yours to rub together making you moan. The both of you started to rub up and down as Olrox rested his for head against yours.

You moaned as Olrox’s hand came back up to the tip, giving it extra attention.” F-fuck!” Your head falls back as your eyes roll back. Olrox takes his left hand and brings it up to your face to bring it back up and pulling it down, making you look down at what was making you feel so good. You whimper at the sight of you and Olroxs dicks being stimulated by each others hands, although you weren’t really helping. The pornagraphic sight was cut short as the man on top of you pulled your head back up to make you look in those piercing green eyes.” Kiss me please?” You asked a little desperately.

The man on top of you grins.” Ok, but you have to promise not to cum.”

You nod quickly as your non busy hand goes to hold the side of his face.” I’ll try my hardest.” You smile as you bring his head closer to yours.” It’s not my fault that you’re good at this.” You say as you lips connect again, feeling your partners fangs as he sucks on your lips.

The kissing is slow, both of you wanting to savour it. Olrox stopped stroking you at some point knowing that you would��ve came if he didn’t. He wanted you to fully enjoy the experience, him too. This wasn’t some random hook up, he was genuinely in love with you. At some point he some how pushed you back so that your back was resting on your head board. Olrox had lost his house coat and was fully naked now on top of you.

Olrox pulled away from you making you look at him curiously as he reached over to the night stand to get lube from the drawer and came back to look at you.

“How did you know that was there?” You ask as he pours some in his hand.

“I was snooping around once.” He answered plainly as he went to put the bottle on the night stand. He took his hand with the liquid and went to lube up your shaft.

“Weirdo.” Is all you could get out with out moaning. He pumped you a few times before lining you up with his entrance. Your face took up a concerned look.” Don’t you want me to prep you or something?” You asked, not wanting him to get hurt.

He let out a small laugh.” Already did in the bathroom. Why do you think you had all this time to get pretty?” He asked, but not awaiting for an answer since he sunk down on you.

As Olrox remained cool and calm even though he was holding back an actual reaction (wanting to keep his more dominant facade), you were already gone. Back of the head against the wall with your eyes closed, as you let out a pleasured sigh when you finally bottomed out. Your hands went to hold the Olrox’s boxy hips, hoping he would move, which he did after a few moments. With your neck on full display for the vampire, Olrox decided to take advantage of that, bringing his head down to suck and kiss the area, making you shudder and moan.

“Mhm Olrox!?” You moan his name out, wanting his attention. In response Olrox groaned cause he didn’t want to leave your neck.” Can you please go faster?”

Olrox didn’t verbally respond, instead he just did what you asked and speed up his movements as you griped his hips tighter making him change his position a bit. With the new speed and angle your dick felt a million times better making him moan out into your neck. The sensation of your dick rubbing against his prostate along with the small amount of friction of his dick rubbing against your stomach was getting to much, he knew he wasn’t going to last long.

“Fuck Y/n!” Olrox groaned throwing his head back. Now it was your turn to kiss his neck. Unfortunately vampires don’t have any blood, so the chance of hickes were slim so it kinda took the fun out, but either way Olrox was enjoying it. You kept sucking his skin, going upwards on his neck, slowly making your way to his face. You felt him tighten around you when you sucked under his jaw.

“You like that?” You ask teasingly, continuing the treatment. Although you could feel his green eyes glare at you, he still responded with a small yeah.

Olrox speed up his pace with the hot feeling building up in his lower abdomen, a feeling that he’s felt a million times before.

With the knew speed you also got hit with the sudden urge to cum, making everything hotter and making your eyes go wide.

“Olrox! Gonna cum! Can we hold hands?!” You asked desperately looking up at him.

“Only if you cum in me.” Olrox was semi joking but he knew you would take it seriously.

“Yes anything! Just want to hold hands.” Your hands wonder around for his and at last you find them and interlock your fingers.

You close your eyes and lean forward to put your head on his chest, concentrating on the feeling of where your hands connect and the feeling of your building release as you moan out. Eventually your release comes and Olrox moans out at the feeling of being filled.

“Good boy! I’m so close! Just a few more seconds you can do that right!? Be good?!”

You nod up at him dumbly as you go into over stimulation, letting out little whines instead of loud moans.

Olroxs moans become louder until eventually his eyes roll back, the dim candle light making him look gorgeous as he paints your stomach white and collapses. You let go of his hands and wrap them around his back as you come back to reality. One of your hands come to grab his jaw to move his head back. His hazy green eyes looking up at you full of love. You plant a little kiss on his cheek then go to tuck his hair behind his ear.

You smile, he looked so beautiful.” We should probably go clean you up. You got my lip stick all over and you’re stuffed like an eclair, can’t be pleasant for to long.” You comment.

“Let just stay like this for a second. I like it like this.” Olrox closes his eyes again as he goes back to snuggle into your chest.

But for some reason you start to feel a little self conscious.” Olrox? You know I will never love you the same? Are you okay with that?” You ask looking anywhere but him.

He chuckles and looks up.” You lit candles, made yourself pretty and made the place smell good. Most husbands don’t even clean their ass for their wife that they’ve been married to for years.” He grabbed your face to make you look at him.” For some one who doesn’t ‘love’ you do it pretty well. So don’t worry about it.” He gave you a peck on the cheek and went back to how he was originally.

“Ok.” Is all you said as you smiled and put your head in the crook of his neck. Muttering a small I love you.

[c-e-d-dreamer]

When We Howl, the Moon Will Cower: Prologue

A/N: I know it's technically November first, which means Spooky Season is officially over, but what do you say we keep the spooky vibes going just a little bit longer? And what better way to do that than with witchy Nesta! And future werewolf Cassian ;) I am very excited for what I have planned for this fic, and I hope everyone enjoys! And if you don't, well, this is a love letter fic to @dustjacketmusings only, so I don't care. Also, gold star to everyone who can pick up on the 3 easter eggs in this prologue.

Read on AO3 // Chapter Masterlist // Next Part

Darkness from the west trembles in the light As the sun rises on a new empire Shatter, crack, and take back what is right The golden bonds escape the pyre Mother blessed unity births power unforeseen The gods will bow before the strength of three

~ * * * ~

“Again.”

Nesta swallows down her wince. Swallows down the tingling pain in her cramped fingers. Swallows down the throb that's taken up home in her head, the way it makes everything fuzzy around the edges. Instead, she takes a deep breath, reaching for that well of power within herself. Sometimes, she likes to imagine it as a cat, napping in the sun when it's resting. She imagines that now, imagines stroking her hand along its fur until it begins to purr to life.

“Nesta.”

The cold, clipped tone has Nesta flinching instinctively. “I'm trying, Mama.”

“Clearly, you are not trying hard enough,” her mother scoffs, and even without looking at her, Nesta can imagine the disappointed scowl that's sure to be pinching Elinor Archeron's face. “You are an Archeron witch, or did you forget?”

“My magic is drained,” Nesta defends, squeezing her eyes tighter and trying to focus. “I just need another moment.”

“Drained?” Elinor's laugh is nothing short of mocking. “Your ancestors could do this in their sleep. You are a disgrace to our family name. I don't even know why I bother.”

“I can do it.”

Nesta knows her snapped words mean nothing if she can't prove it. She reaches for that beast inside her again and grabs fur until it roars. Until she can feel her magic slink between her fingers, wreathing its way up her arms. It sings in her veins and floods her lungs so every breath is pure power, writhing like a dancer in time to her pounding heart.

A hard strike across the face has Nesta crashing back down, a pained gasp tumbling past her lips. She cradles her cheek with her hand, blinking up at her mother, but Elinor's rage is potent. A fire practically blazes in those blue eyes, its path of wrath and destruction pinned right on Nesta.

“You stupid girl. Are you trying to burn the whole house down?”

“I'm sorry, Mama,” Nesta whispers before she swallows hard and stands up straight again, holding her chin high. Never cower, never let her see the cracks. “I'll be better next time.”

“You better be,” Elinor sneers, brushing her hands down the skirts of her dress and turning toward the door. It's a clear dismissal, an end to today's lessons. “Do not disappoint me, Nesta.”

Nesta can't help but flinch at the too loud sound of the door closing behind her mother. She presses a hand to her mouth to quiet the shuddering breath she lets out, blinking hard around the stinging heat pressing behind her eyes. When she presses her fingers to the skin of her cheek, she can still feel the lingering soreness from being slapped, but she's hopeful there won't be any bruising.

There certainly won't be a scar.

As if of their own accord, Nesta's fingers absentmindedly slide along the raised skin on her thumb. At least her mother's lessons aren't like the ones with her grandmother.

A knock at the door has Nesta almost jumping out of her skin in surprise, and for a fearful moment, she half wonders if her thoughts somehow summoned her grandmother back from beyond the grave. But then she hears her sister's voice, tentatively calling her name through the wood.

“Go away, Elain,” Nesta calls back, rolling her eyes even though her sister can't see her.

“But I need your help,” Elain protests, a hint of the whine Nesta knows always works on their father bleeding into her tone.

With a huff, Nesta stalks over to the door, yanking it open and not even bothering to hide her annoyance as she demands, “what?”

Elain chews on her lip, fiddling with the skirts of her dress, before admitting, “I lost Feyre.”

“What do you mean you lost Feyre?”

“Well, we were playing hide and seek, and she must have chosen a really good hiding place because I can't find her.”

“For Mother's sake,” Nesta sighs, already stepping out into the hall. “You know, next year, you'll be of a witch's age, and you won't have any more time for baby games.”

“Just because you came of age last year doesn’t mean you have to be so mean.”

Nesta’s steps stutter at Elain’s words, and she turns back around to find her sister still standing by the study door, her arms crossed and her expression less than impressed. Nesta knows that she’s right, but Nesta would also give anything to keep Elain and Feyre from turning thirteen. To let them play hide and seek and run through the gardens forever. To protect them from their mother’s clutches and her cruel lessons.

But Nesta has yet to find a spell for that.

So Nesta lets out a soft breath and offers Elain a small smile of apology. “Where did you already look for Feyre?”

Elain huffs quietly, practically a lamenting sigh, as she continues down the hall and to Nesta’s side. “I checked all the normal places. Under all the beds. Under Papa’s desk. All the closets.”

“Did you check the cellar?” Nesta asks, leading the way toward the main staircase.

“We’re not allowed down there, remember?”

“Exactly. And this is Feyre we’re talking about.”

Elain hums, and that’s answer enough for Nesta. With a shake of her head, she hurries down the main staircase and down the hall that leads to the cellar door. The dark wood looks unassuming, exactly as their mother intended it, but Nesta can feel the magic imbued within it. It seems to hum and whisper to her, seems to jump off the wood and skate across her skin and up her arms. If Nesta squints, she can even make out the protection runes carved beneath the wood stain.

Checking both ways down the hallway to make sure no one is watching, Nesta reaches forward, her fingers curling around the handle of the door. She closes her eyes and sucks in a deep breath, feeling the magic pulsing through her hand before the handle twists and the door opens. She grabs Elain’s wrist and tugs her inside, the door closing behind them with a quiet thud.

Neither of them say anything as they follow the winding staircase down, Elain keeping her hand firmly in Nesta’s own. Nesta can’t say she minds the contact. The cellar has always made her feel uneasy. It’s the way she always feels like she’s being watched when she’s down here. The way whispers seem to creep along the floor and the walls like fog, Nesta never quite able to hear the words being spoken, but always having the undeniable feeling that they’re saying her name. It’s the way the air is always thick and still, as if whatever ominous presence calls this dark place home is holding its breath, even as it smiles from the shadows with too sharp teeth.

Nesta lets out a quiet breath when they reach the bottom of the stairs, giving Elain’s hand a gentle, comforting squeeze. Or perhaps it’s to help ground herself. She turns her attention to the left, unsurprised to find the door at the very end is cracked open, watery light spilling out around the edges like some sort of eerie beacon.

For a moment, Nesta hesitates, swallowing hard around the churning in her gut, the lump threatening to press into her throat. But then she swears she feels it, a presence beside her and Elain. But it doesn’t bring with it any of the unease the shadows of the cellar do. Instead, it feels almost warm, comforting. Like a mother’s hand curling around her shoulders, it urges her forward, guiding her through the door and into the room.

“You found me!” Feyre exclaims, jumping up from her spot crouched beside the door with a wide smile.

“Feyre, you know you’re not supposed to be in here,” Nesta seethes, already grabbing her youngest sister’s arm to tug her out of the room and back upstairs.

But Feyre yanks herself free, crossing her arms across her chest. “Just because you’re the oldest, that doesn’t mean you can tell me what to do.”

Feyre sticks her tongue out, belying her eleven years of age, and Nesta merely rolls her eyes. “I’m serious. Mama would be furious if she knew.”

“We get it, Nesta. You’re Mama’s favorite, always the perfect child. That doesn’t mean the rest of us want to be.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about, what you don’t know.”

“Um…” Elain speaks up quietly, breaking up her sisters’ glaring contest. “Is it supposed to be doing that?”

Nesta snaps her attention to the center of the room, to the magical object she’s always refused to look directly at for too long. The Cauldron stands on a slightly raised wooden platform, the wide circumference large enough that Nesta is sure it could swallow all three of her and her sisters whole if it wanted to. The black iron it’s made from is dark as night, dark enough to drown any light, any life, even as the legends sing of life being poured from it.

And for the first time since Nesta ever laid eyes on it, the Cauldron truly seems alive.

The liquid inside bubbles and pops, dark smoke rising and curling from its depths. The smoke spills over the edge of the platform, slithering down the platform and across the floor to them. Nesta swears it looks almost star flecked as it creeps closer to Feyre, threatening to curl around her ankles. Feyre jumps away from the smoke, hiding behind Nesta and curling her hands tight enough around Nesta’s arm that her nails bite into the skin.

“What’s it doing?” Feyre demands, her voice barely above a hushed whisper.

“I don’t know,” Nesta mutters, her own voice quiet, as if the Cauldron might hear them if they’re too loud. “But we need to get out of here.”

Nesta turns on her heel to do just that, keeping Feyre with her, but her feet stutter before she can even take a single step. Elain’s eyes have completely glazed over, the honey brown color of them foggy, and her gaze is focused solely on the Cauldron. Her expression is entirely blank in a way that has alarm bells ringing in Nesta’s head, has every hair on the back of her neck standing on end.

“Elain…” Nesta starts cautiously, watching with wide eyes as her sister starts to walk closer to the Cauldron. “Elain, what are you doing?”

Whether her sister can hear her or not, Nesta isn’t sure. Elain continues walking until she’s stood right at the foot of the wooden platform, smoke dancing and curling up her calves like flames, sparking against her skin like daylight. Like a puppet on strings, Elain’s hand slowly raises from her side, her outstretched hand reaching forward.

“Elain, don’t!”

Nesta’s free hand curls around Elain’s wrists at the same moment Elain’s fingers curl around the lip of the Cauldron. Nesta’s chest heaves, her entire body tensing up in anticipation, but nothing happens. There’s no explosion, no blinding light. The ground doesn’t shake and rumble beneath their feet. There’s just that choking stillness.

“Darkness from the west trembles in the light,” Elain speaks, her voice somehow sounding far away, like it’s not her own.

“Elain?” Nesta whispers, giving her sister’s wrist a tentative squeeze.

“As the sun rises on a new empire—”

“What’s wrong with her? Why is she saying that?” Feyre asks over Elain’s still speaking voice.

“I don’t know,” Nesta hisses, turning over her shoulder to glare at Feyre.

“The golden bonds escape the pyre—”

“Elain,” Nesta tries again, tugging on her sister’s hand more forcefully. “Stop that.”

“—unity births power unforeseen.” Nesta drops Feyre's hand and steps forward, physically prying Elain’s fingers off the Cauldron. “The gods will bow before the strength of three.”

With a soft gasp, Elain stumbles back, Nesta curling an arm around her waist to try and hold her steady. Elain blinks a few times, and it’s stark relief that floods through Nesta as she takes in the bright brown color, pink flooding back into her sister's cheeks and face.

“What happened?” Elain asks, her words slightly slurred together.

Before Nesta can answer her, Elain’s eyes flutter closed, Nesta practically crashing to the cold, hard stone floor in her effort to catch Elain’s deadweight. She wraps her arms tightly around Elain, tugging so her sister’s head is cradled in her lap. Her heart starts to pound when she lifts her hand to Elain’s cheek, the skin cool and clammy beneath her touch. She snaps her attention back to Feyre, her youngest sister standing with wide eyes and her arms curled around herself.

“We need to get Mama.”

~ * * * ~

“Think harder, Nesta.”

It takes everything within Nesta to swallow down her sigh. She already knows what making such a sound will earn her, but it’s easier said than done. They’ve been at this for what feels like hours now.

“I told you, Mama. I can’t be sure,” Nesta explains, keeping her eyes downcast and away from where her mother is pacing across the room. “I was more focused on making sure Elain was okay.”

“Honestly, Nesta,” Elinor sighs, and though Nesta keeps her attention firmly on her own lap, she can perfectly imagine her mother’s expression. “Your sister gives a prophecy in the Cauldron’s presence, and you couldn’t bother to remember it?”

“There was…” Nesta squeezes her eyes shut, trying to focus. “There was something about unity. Blessed unity and it creating unforseen power… something about an empire, I think?”

“An empire? What about an empire?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Dammit, Nesta. Focus.”

The slap sings hard across Nesta’s cheek, the metallic taste of blood spilling in her mouth from how hard she bites her tongue to keep in her cry of surprise. Her fingers curl into fists in her lap, nails biting into her skin to ground herself, and Nesta takes a shaking breath in and out of her nose. She can tell that her mother’s patience is wearing beyond thin, that soon her mother will tire of this back and forth. And she knows that if she doesn’t do this, Elinor will turn her methods on Feyre next.

So taking another, more calming breath, Nesta imagines herself back in that room, in that cellar with her sisters. She imagines the Cauldron before her, bubbling and smoking. She imagines Elain’s face and the faraway look in her eyes. She imagines seeing Elain’s mouth move, the words spilling forth.

“The gods will bow before the strength of three,” Nesta recites back, just as Elain had.

She waits for her mother's clipping words, perhaps another slap over only remembering the single, final line, but there's only silence echoing in the room. Tentatively, Nesta raises her head, intent on meeting her mother's steely blue gaze head on, but Elinor's focus is far away, her attention snagged out the window. Nesta turns her own attention outside, curiosity piqued, but whatever her mother is staring at, whatever she sees laid out before her, it's only in her mind. Finally, she turns back to Nesta, the smallest hint of a smirk tugging at her painted lips.

“Perhaps you won't be a disappointment to the Archeron name after all.”

—

Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed): @moodymelanist @nesquik-arccheron @sv0430 @talkfantasytome @bookstantrash @eirini-thaleia @ubigaia @fromthelibraryofemilyj @luivagr-blog @lifeisntafantasy @superspiritfestival @hiimheresworld @marigold-morelli @sweet-pea1 @emeriethevalkyriegirl @pyxxie @dustjacketmusings @hallway5 @dongjunma @glowing-stick-generation @melonsfantasyworld @isterofimias @goddess-aelin @melphss @theladystardust @a-trifling-matter @blueunoias @kookskoocie @wolfnesta @blurredlamplight @hereforthenessian @skaixo @jmoonjones @burningsnowleopard @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk @ofduskanddreams @rarephloxes @thelovelymadone @books-books-books4ever @tenaciousdiplomatloverprune @that-little-red-head @readergalaxy @thesnugglingduck @kale-theteaqueen @tarquindaddy

[aughtpunk]

Alright I know it's on the Question Request form itself so you're probably going to see this a lot today but, why DO you hate the second act of into the woods?!?! I gotta know!!!

FUCKING INTO THE WOODS

first off no shade to the music the music is fantastic in into the woods 100% would rock out to it

First act? First act is great. Everything is fantastic in the first act. In this house we watch the first act and leave during intermission. No notes everything is groovy there

But then the second act fucked it all up

But aught you say the second act is supposed to be about how everything gets fucked up and life is shit and I sayvshhhhhhhhh I'm not talking about the plot that's fine I'm talking about how Sondheim couldn't write a good female character if one punched him in the face because besides the witch all of the female characters go straight down the toilet like the shit they are

Like riding hood! Her entire character arc in the first act is learning to be strong and not to follow blindly and to stand up and think for herself and you know what she does in the second act? SHE HOLDS THE BABY. That's all she does she just holds the baby she doesn't even get a song like way to take a character and just go whoops forgot to give her literally anything to do just stand there and hold the baby okay. People may go well she mirrors Jack's at of having to grow up and like growing up to get just means HOLDING A BABY I GUESS

And then you get Cinderella who's character gets turned around and she does the second act going wait guys I actually MISSED being a slave to my evil family all I want to do is clean all of those wants and passions from the first act were wrong just give me a broom and I'll go back to cleaning and cooking because fuck me for wanting a better life I'm a woman this is all I want this is what all women should strive for

Aught you say that's not fair Songmdhd didn't say he was speaking for all women

And I'll say OH YES HE DID CAUSE APPARENTLY YOU FORGOT ABOUT

THE

BAKER'S

WIFE

And the absolute shit show which is her character arc

Cause okay first act baby she wants baby boy great but I'll let it side because she's a good strong character besides thatbut then the second act the fucking second act where she CHEATS ON HER HUSBAND OUT OF THE BLUE BECAUSE

BECAUSE SONDHEIM

SAYS THAT ALL WOMEN WOULD CHEAT ON THEIR HUSBANDS IF THEY COULD

That is the entire fucking point of her song in the second act is just for Sondheim to put a sock puppet on his hand and make a female character say Look all ladies would cheat if given a chance to vibe a prince teehee isn't that right laaaaaaaaadies and then has her going yes I am awesome for cheating it was totally worth it and just the implication that all women will drop their panties for a prince is like so fucking telling on Sondheim and what he thinks women are like I could probably spend an entire essay on just that

Like, fuuuuuuuuick you Sondheim

Meanwhile Jack just gets a 'it's time to grow up and be a man' arc while the baker crowd about his daddy issues that weren't there in the first act and it's such an absolute shit show of play but he's there's that one sad tragic song at the end that means the play is super intelligent and Sondheim is a genius with genius ideas like women enjoy housework and all women are cheating whores

Anyway I spent was too long on this but the tldr is

Suck my dick, Sondheim

[ryverbind]

Faceless Fixation (Sal Fisher): Hide-n-Seek [23]

dacnorthxx: pretty girl <3 sfcommm: OMG?? ok they're def dating wtfsally: I thought Vi and Sal were gunna end up together butttt honestly this is a vibe. I like it belongingtoash: VIOLETHHHHH LETS GOOOOOOO toodswithouthed: @dacnorthxx BROTHER THE RIZZ??????????             dacnorthxx: @toodswithouthed they don't call me the rizzler for nothing            belongingtoash: oh he definitely pulled her. but does he pull out?            dacnorthxx: @belongingtoash what's the name of that lil debbie pie?            larrysbitch: @dacnorthxx LMFAAOOOOO I KNOW YOU DIDN'T             dacnorthxx: @larrysbitch how do u know i didn't if i literally did violethshipper: ^^^omfg someone give this man a medal.

----------

I want to go back to Sal's house.

If anyone asks, I never said that. Never admitted it. I will take those eight words to my grave and into the afterlife. But standing in the middle of a pot-hole infested road in the middle of Nockfell's forest with no prior reasoning to be here has me on edge.

Todd and Neil ditched us for another date night, which is starting to sound like an excuse to get way from us. So Ash gathered me, Sal, and Larry out here (apparently Larry is in on the plan) and told me the weather would be chilly, so I should 'dress appropriately.'

It's fucking colder than a witch's tit out here. Chilly to me translates to long sleeves, not coat weather.

But we're here, the sun drifting toward the horizon behind my best friend's sunset-encrusted silhouette and an evil grin dominating her partner-in-crime's handsome face.

"I've gathered you here today to participate in a life or death simulation," Ash chirps, like that statement isn't going to strike fear in the hearts of all-- well, me.

I purse my lips, turning from Ash and Larry to glance at Sal. He's dressed comfy; in the same Breaking Benjamin hoodie I accidentally wore in Vegas-- I'm shocked he didn't burn the thing-- to go with black sweats and dirty shoes. And he did something different with his hair. Something that I hate him for.

Ash said 'the woods' and he proceeded to sigh, then put half his hair up into a little bun all while grabbing another string cheese. Then he walked out the house.

I really, really hate him for it. 

"Are you going to ask or what?" Ash's clipped words snap at the open air like a whip.

I pinch my lips together and focus on my darling Ash. "Why am I out here?" 

A stunning smile builds on her glossy lips. "I'm so glad you asked, bellissima! We are going to play hide-n-seek. You and Sal are going to be finding a hiding spot-- no context as to why you're paired up included." She holds a hand out to exemplify her point, stopping the obvious question before it can even form on my lips. My stomach drops out of my ass regardless though.

"Larbear and I will not be seeking you, we'll be hunting you." Her eyebrows raise as that smile on her pretty face turns cunning. "You have five minutes. We'll hike to Sal's, then back here and that will end your time to hide. I suggest you make haste, my lovely little victims."

I gape at her, the plan sounding more and more evil as she keeps running her freaking mouth.

Larry lifts a hand, index finger pointed in the air. "And you two are not allowed to kill each other either." Ash nods her head vigorously in agreement.

"So yea!" She chirps, hands behind her back as she grins mischievously at me, a malicious glint in her forest eyes. "Larry and I will see you two losers when we find you. Good luck!"

"Hold on!" I stammer over my words, taking a big step toward Larry and Ash as they... run in the opposite direction. Gone in the blink of an eye. I pinch my lips together, heart sinking into the depths of my despair. "This is going to end in murder!" I bellow for good measure even though they can't hear me.

I swallow thickly, blinking at the now empty street. It's just us two.

"If it ends in murder, I'll haunt you," Sal's voice makes me sigh. It's monotonous, nonchalant. No emotion. 

I spin on my heels to look at him. He's standing in the middle of the road, hands in his hoodie pockets. 

Half his hair is up in that bun, the rest hanging over his shoulders as he watches me, completely emotionless. And as empty as he seems right now, the nature around him still makes him glow. The sun setting behind him, the canopy of Nockfell's forest framing his body. What a sight to behold-- it's just a damn shame that he's the person that mother nature is admiring so lovingly.

A shiver takes hold of my body when the slight breeze picks up for a moment, but I do my best to mask it as a grimace instead. I can't let this monster of a man see me weak. It'll only end badly for me. 

Can't hide shit from Sal Fisher, by the way.

His eyes light up, his stance straightening a bit. "Are you cold?" he asks, a bit of something in his tone even if it was just to make his question actually sound like a question.

I grumble to myself. "It's Ash's fault," I snap. "She told me it would be chilly. Chilly in eternally autumnal Nockfell and chilly in blazingly hot LA are two very different things." I clench my teeth, begging them not to chatter. "Two different things she did not take into account."

My gaze gravitates to my black jeans and the tight-fitted, long-sleeved violet shirt that I borrowed from Ash earlier. Things could be worse, but this shirt is still thin as hell. 

Being that The Faces are so accustomed to the constant chill here in Nockfell, fifty degrees isn't cold to them. But in Los Angeles, I'm lucky to see fifty degrees in the winter. This, to me, is cold. Especially with the sun beginning to go down. 

I focus in on Sal again. He's staring at me. It's awkward, neither of us know what to do. Ash and Larry have taken off back to Sal's to count. I don't know where on earth to go. Sal looks like he'd rather be anywhere else and be stuck with anyone else. But hey, that makes two of us.

With a breath, Sal tilts his head down. Then he starts easing his arms out of his hoodie. For a moment, I fear that he's going to give that damn hoodie to me. But then I remember that this is Sal, I mean, come on. He's probably just warm because he's used to the weather here.

Was the fear of him offering me his hoodie wishful thinking?

No. 'Course not.

I purse my lips at the thought, continuing to watch Sal as he carefully pulls the hoodie over his head, careful not to mess up his styled hair. 

Where could we hide? Should we hide at all or just bump into Ash and Larry with a half-assed 'haha, wow you found us?'

My brows furrow when Sal walks closer to me, holding... out... the hoodie...

I choke on my own saliva, taking a staggering step back as the retaliation of my own traitorous ideas comes rearing it's fugly head. Had the thought not crossed my mind, I wouldn't be in this predicament right now.

Sal turns his head slightly, eyes narrowed like I freaked him out or something. Like I'm weird. Like I'm some kind of fairy with wings that suddenly popped out of the forest.

"Hell no," I cackle, holding a hand out in front of me and shaking it, hoping that my hand's movement will wipe away that damn hoodie. "Cut that shit out. Put your hoodie back on." The words come out in a maniacal shrill, but I don't know how to control myself in this kind of scenario.

My anxious, terror-ridden reaction seems to spark some kind of emotion in Sal. As if taunting me, he takes a step closer and presses the hoodie into my hand. I back away quickly like he's burned me and he has the audacity to laugh.

I have every reason to believe that he'd chase me around with that hoodie if I showed too much fear.

"Seriously, Sal," I warn, narrowing my eyes at him to show him I'm serious. "Stop."

In turn, Sal sighs. "Just take it. It's not to be cute or anything. You should know as much." Amusement tinges his raspy voice. "But if you freeze out here, you won't be able to pack all my shit tomorrow."

"Why would I pack your shit?" I ask, immediately offended. What does he think I am? His servant?

"I'm the only one driving. Most of our boxes are coming with me. Do you not communicate with anyone? Or do you not listen?" He inquires with a smack of his lips. "That's a fatal character flaw, Vi."

I scrunch up my face in distaste, rage flaring through me. He definitely does this on purpose. "For your information, no one bothered to inform me. At least know the full story before you start assuming my character flaws." I point an accusatory finger at him, watching him silently before my eyes flit down to the hoodie that he's still holding out to me. 

He called me Vi, not by my name. 

With a disgruntled groan, I snatch the hoodie from his grasp and start fumbling to get it on. I'm thankful for my mask in the moment since it hides the light blush working onto my cheeks. 

The hoodie's still warm from his body, wrapping me up in a lush embrace. I sigh as comfort takes hold of me-- I can't believe I initially fought this off. What was the point? Now I'm warm and I won't freeze to death. Plus, the collar smells just like him. A little minty, a dash of cologne that's a mix of pine and rainwater, and then a sweet detergent.

"I didn't know you drove," I grumble, popping my head through the hoodie while keeping a hand placed over my mask so it doesn't fall off. Sal tilts his head at me, hair looking completely untouched whereas mine is now a frizzy mess.

"You must not observe your surroundings," he replies. This time there's a little, lighthearted bite to it. His eyes seem brighter than they did just minutes ago. Some of his personality is coming back to him. I wonder what ever took it away in the first place. "Car in the driveway's mine."

I blanch, eyes practically popping out of my head. "That Camaro is yours?" I practically spit the words out, patting down my hair. "How are you even able to-- to drive? With the prosthetic?"

"Great question, especially considering I only have one eye." Sal's gaze never leaves mine, like he's testing me with that information.

While I didn't know that for sure, I could have assumed he was at least blind in one eye due to the dilation of only one pupil instead of both. But it's nothing surprising. The scars on his face said as much about him.

So I narrow my eyes as if I'm studying every move he makes. "How'd you trick 'em into giving you a license then?" I ask, nothing but scrutiny lacing my tone. "Did you kill them?" I point a finger at my temple. "Mind control?"

My aim was to aggravate him, but to my surprise, he actually chokes on a laugh. And it's an adorable reaction-- so much so that in the moment, I feel like we're friends. I like him like this. I feel... this feels...

His eyes scrunch closed and he tilts his head down, hair flowing over his shoulders and chest bobbing with his laughter. He even puts a hand on his stomach as the lovely sound continues to pour out of him. I can't help but add in a little chuckle of my own.

Sal takes a deep breath before standing up again, ambling a bit closer to me as his hair blows in the wind, only bits of it contained in his little bun. "That's a first," he says breathlessly. "And the best reaction to someone finding out I'm disabled."

I can't wipe the wide grin off my face as I shrug. "Seriously though," I say, giggles attached to the words. "How are you able to drive? Isn't that-- not being able to see fully-- wouldn't that be a hazard?"

Sal nods his confirmation. "I shouldn't be driving, but I can. My promise was to never drive outside of Nockfell, so once we get to LA, things are unfortunately going to change." His decent mood seems to diminish a bit at the mention. "And as for the license I have now, don't worry about it. Just know it's very, very illegal."

I tilt my head dismissively. "Alright then," I mumble. "I won't ask about the extent of your illegal activities." Even though I am really curious about it. "But where are we hiding?"

Sal, in answer, begins walking past me. He doesn't gesture for me to follow, but I do it anyway. I catch up to him in a moments notice, walking beside him and waiting for a vocal answer rather than a physical one.

"We aren't hiding," he murmurs, nodding at the road ahead of us. "We're going camp out at the apartments."

"Oh," I whisper, watching the buildings in front of us grow taller the closer we get to them. "So, they won't find us at all, will they?"

Sal snorts. "No. They'll be out here for hours."

"Karma," I say nonchalantly, stuffing my hands into the pockets of his hoodie.

"Hm," Sal hums to himself. "Yea," he says louder, looking ahead as we walk. "Ever heard of Darwinism?" he asks randomly. But something about his voice puts me on edge.

"Uh," I say hesitantly, wary of his next words-- or worse, his next move. "Charles Darwin? Survival of the fittest?"

"Yup," he pops the 'p', body leaned toward me for a moment as he adds, with a smile in his voice, "You are not the fittest, by the way."

I gape at him. Shock ripples through me at the audacity. Now he's just reaching for anything to insult me with. Sure, maybe I'm not the fittest. I didn't bring a jacket into cool weather. But that didn't warrant a Darwinism jab. "Fuck you," I snap, taking a step away from him. I grumble unintelligible insults to myself for a second. I'll curse Ash and Larry 'til the day I die. "Why did they send us out together anyway? They should have known this would be a clusterfuck."

Sal doesn't even spare me a glance, just keeps walking, sticks and gravel crunching beneath the soles of his Converse. "I don't know. Something about forceful bonding. I didn't care to listen," he replies and I want to punch him for it. That question was for myself, not him. And of course he wouldn't listen. That's just so him.

I keep walking, gaze glued to the buildings and darkening sky. I don't have words for him, not when he's being difficult on purpose. I can go the rest of this stupid little trip without sharing another word with him. See if I care-- he'll be the one to suffer. I can hold out. I don't need to fuck him here. My pride is bigger than his and my need combined.

In the middle of my solitary girlbossing, my foot catches on a pothole that I didn't see because I didn't bother to look where I was walking. Too busy bitching to myself about Sal. Nockfell's old. The roads aren't well funded. It seems I've forgotten that in my time away.

I stumble forward, ready to scrape my knees on the pavement and suffer the embarrassment of Sal watching me take a tumble. But I hear a grunt beside me as a hand latches onto my elbow, another grabbing my waist and hoisting me into a standing position. I gulp so hard that it hurts, gaze on my foot caught in the pothole while the warmth from Sal's hands envelops my arm and side.

"Watch your step, dumbass," Sal mumbles, a clipped laugh following the statement.

I pinch my lips together and swing my head over my shoulder to glare at him. He watches me, humor dancing in his sapphire gaze. Seeing him so unserious will always be shocking. Especially since he saved me without complaining for once. I half expect him to shove me back into my fall, but he doesn't. Puts a bit more of his weight into his arms and pulls me toward him until I'm able to free my foot from the hole.

"Had you broken your ankle, I wouldn't have carried you back, idiot," he says, voice chipper despite the constant back and forth of his emotions. Finally and thankfully he moves his dangerous hands away from me.

"And yet you felt merciful enough to lend me your jacket?" I ask, a sneer on my face. I'm still holed up with my pride... but it's slipping with every word I say.

Sal shrugs. "How can I fuck you if you're sick?" is all he says. And it almost sounds like an excuse, but... he isn't wrong either.

I shake my head, lips pressed together. "Are you going to tell me the truth or are you going to keep up with the fluff bullshit?" I ask him, inclining my head upward. Like I said, I don't have to fuck him here-- why is he so insistent on it? Does he need to christen his house before he leaves for good or something?

Well, we have a head start. We already checked his desk off the list.

Sal rolls his eyes at my words, a glimmer of aggravation in his gaze. "Can't you just accept help?" He kicks a rock with the toe of his shoe, launching into a walk toward the apartments again. I begrudgingly follow him. "I know I'm not trustworthy or anything, but not everything is meant to spite you. Yea, maybe most of it is for my own gain..." he trails off, a smug glance toward me that makes me want to kick his shins in. "But it works out for you."

"The more you talk, the less I like you," I force out from behind clenched teeth. Any kind of warmth I felt from his gesture with the hoodie is left colder than a piece of frozen meat.

"You like me?" Sal drawls, his body tilting toward me just to piss me off some more. But that prideful tone of his makes me shake my head again-- this time to get the smooth timbre out of my head. Is he flirting or being antagonistic? I can never tell with him.

"Not anymore," I chirp. "And when I did like you," I turn to him and hold up my hand pressing my index and thumb together until there's only a sliver of space left between them. "It was so little that it didn't fucking matter either way."

I watch as the bottom of his left eyebrow disappears behind his prosthetic. I can imagine the inquisitive eyebrow raise-- I just wish I could see the whole thing. "Is that anything to say to the guy who's made you cum how many times on this trip?" He holds up a hand, lifting fingers to count.

A snarl leaves my lips as I look away from him. "Once. You've made me cum once, dick," I inform him. "The point you were trying to prove is stupid."

"Dick?" He asks. My eye twitches when his slightly excited, very complacent tone travels over to me. "No, my dick hasn't made you cum yet."

I don't know what's gotten into him. And I don't know what's gotten into me when a little smile quirks my lips at his joke. But I hide it the instant it appears, shoving it deep down. "Shut up," I bite out, trying to come off as aggressive, but even he seems to catch the light, humorous tremor in my voice. 

All that anger has dissipated by now. It's almost as if he knew he bothered me and went through all this to make me forget it.

I purposefully ignore the flutters in my chest and cartoonish crush-y feeling as Sal and I fall into silence, continuing our trek to Addison Apartments. 

I'm thankful for the comfortable quiet, the only sounds around us being our shuffling footsteps along the street, birds chirping and rustling in the treetops. Other than life noises, Nockfell is quiet. Aside from the annual Pumpkin Fest, it's so quiet here that it nearly seems desolate. 

Sal is a specimen and whatever it is that's changed between us-- because there is a very obvious change-- I'm going to ignore it. I have to ignore it and focus on my career, on myself. Why acknowledge this growth in the first place? We're still fucking around and that's all it'll be. To do that, we have to hate each other a little less, right?

Sal turns a corner, so I cut my own steps to turn with him, stopping short when Addison Apartments suddenly towers over me. 

When I lived here the first time, the apartments were about to fall apart. But now... everything is refurbished. It looks like there are lights on in bedrooms on the fifth floor, where renovations had gone on forever it seemed. The building is a new color, no paint chipping or walls broken. It's pretty nice. There are buildings on either side now too, showing that there have been additions. It's nothing like I remember it.

"I take it you've met Lisa by now."

I turn my gaze to Sal, watching as he pulls out a set of keys. Has he had those this entire time? 

His head is tilted down, sorting through the same set of keys while his cerulean hair billows in the gentle wind. Cornflower blue Converse dusty and caked with mud in various spots. I take it these are an old, occasionally worn pair.

His prosthetic enters my field of vision and I snap back into myself. "Yes," I simply reply. I reserved that answer, but forgot what question, exactly, I'm meant to be answering. Because I was too busy ogling him.

He looks at me a moment longer, eyes narrowing like he can smell the fact that I got distracted. With the way he is, I wouldn't be surprised if he could smell something like that.

Sal opens the door though, passing through it and into the lobby as a nonverbal way of telling me to follow. I do, walking through the threshold and into the building.

It's stunning, reminding me a lot of The Faces' suite in Vegas. All white, pristine. I wonder who's keeping it all up, but the answer rings through my head. Most likely Lisa.

I hear hinges squeaking to my right, so I rotate my head to face the sound-- only to find a pair of ebony eyes gazing out of a mail slot about as old as these apartments are.

"Oh, Sal!" Mr. Addison's short, polite voice fills me with nostalgia. I smile warmly at the man. "Welcome back. Coming to visit, I presume?"

Sal nods his head once. "Ash and Larry are up to no good, as usual."

"Ah," Mr. Addison responds, followed by an endearing chuckle. "Who's your friend?"

"Not my friend," Sal answers, never missing a beat.

I roll my eyes. 

"Hi, Mr. Addison," I say sweetly, waving at him. "I'm y/n. Do you remember me?"

I watch those dark eyes widen in recognition and a little grin works its way onto my face. 

"My word," he says breathlessly. "It's been years! I hardly recognize you!" That mail slot opens a bit more as if he's trying to get a better look at me.

I giggle, leaning down a bit to talk to him more properly. "Ten years'll do that, I guess."

"I guess so." He laughs heartily. "Tell your father I said hello. Oh, and I shouldn't have to say it, but you two behave yourselves!"

A breathy laugh comes from Sal and I nearly mimic it. "See you later, Mr. Addison," I bid the man goodbye.

"Farewell." Then squeaky hinges and the disappearance of those ominous eyes.

I turn my attention to Sal, a glare clearly reflected in my gaze. I know he can see it because neither of us has to say a word to communicate what's happening. All he needs to do to rile me up in response is smile-- which he does, if the squinting of his eyes says anything.

I follow him into the elevators regardless of how I feel. There's still a thin veil of humor hovering between us despite it all, so I ignore his bullshit even if I desperately want to smack him for giving Mr. Addison a hard time.

He presses his knuckle into the '4' button and we slowly travel upward. It's a miracle that the elevators have been fixed in the years since I've been here. In fact, there's music playing. It's shitty smooth jazz, but it's better than having to listen to the elevator threaten to fall apart like I did as a child. I can still hear the janky, rickety sound of the elevator struggling to move.

We emerge on the fourth floor, still not a word exchanged between us. But I change that, curiosity getting the best of me.

"This place is nothing like I remember it," I muse, eyes trained to the little chandelier on the ceiling. Who the hell paid Addison?

Sal hums, as if to say he knows. "Once our streaming career took off, Larry and I shoveled a chunk of money into finishing renovations here. We had way too many close calls with death as teens to let it rot."

I nod, taking in the rest of the hallway. It's not much different from what it used to be-- a new paint job and some accessories here and there. "It was a good investment," I murmur.

"Larry would disagree," Sal snorts, grabbing the handle of a door to apartment 402. He pauses when the knob doesn't turn and grabs the keys he had prepared. "We had a failed ghost hunting Youtube channel going before this. Larry really wanted that to work out even though he was a chickenshit."

I bark out a laugh despite myself. Larry and Sal into ghost hunting? Preposterous. But believable considering all the rumors surrounding this place.

It's kind of sweet to imagine them walking around with a camera, going places they shouldn't with quivering voices and high-pitched, voice-cracking screams.

"That channel still up?" I prod Sal. He pauses at my question, never getting his key into the doorknob as he turns to me.

"Don't even try," he warns, head tilting in a half-heartedly threatening way.

I grin. "Well, I know what I'm doing tonight."

His eyes roll, karma for the eye-rolling he made me do downstairs.

Before he can retort, the door swings open and Sal whips around, making eye contact with Henry who beams at both of us. "We weren't expecting any visitors-- what are you guys doing here!?"

"Avoiding Ash and Larry," Sal simply states, keys back in his pocket.

Henry's smile transforms into one of understanding. "They're giving you trouble again?"

Sal releases a breath, clearly fed up with having to give the same explanation for his appearance multiple times. "When are they not?"

Henry lets out a dad-chuckle, clapping his hand onto his son's shoulder and ushering him inside, motioning for me to follow.

I could cry when I walk inside. This apartment looks the same way mine did. Sal and Larry didn't renovate this one-- maybe they didn't renovate the inside of any. It's a nice blast from the past though. I can almost feel Ash dumping her paint water on me in the corner of the living room; a fond but chilly memory from our childhood.

My focus transfers to Lisa though, a smile on her face as she wipes her hands off on her apron. But as I smile at her, her eyes narrow and she purses her lips. "You look familiar," she says, the statement sounding more like a question.

I walk over to her, my heart pounding the entire way. She was more of a mom to me than my own mother was. I owe this woman so much and it's been way too long since I last saw her.

"It's y/n," I tell her a bit bashfully. "It's me."

I pray she remembers me for a moment, but there was no reason to worry considering she breaks into a blinding grin and wrestles me into a suffocating hug that I'm more than happy to drown in.

"Oh, my little girl!" She coos, hand rubbing my back affectionately. Her cheek presses into the top of my head as she gives me a big squish. "Best day ever."

Of everyone I've met again recently, Lisa is the first person who hasn't prodded me about life recently or made the comment about how it's been so long. She hasn't said a word about the mask. She's just happy to have me here.

She pulls away from our hug and wipes a tear from her eye before it can fall. My heart about damn near cracks in two. "You're so beautiful!" She gasps, holding me at arm's length and looking me over. Best day ever. "How have you been, honey?"

"I've been alright," I answer honestly, smiling fondly at the woman. "How have you been?"

"Well, I'm wonderful now that you're here." She playfully scrunches her nose then pats my shoulder. "Come here and sit so we can catch up. I have dinner cooking right now."

Lisa leads me over to the kitchen table, pulling out a chair for me. So I sit and cross my arms over the table mat, watching as she moves over to the oven. This is exactly what I'd do every Thursday evening after school-- make my way down to the basement and have dinner with the Johnson's. 

"So," Lisa says excitedly, pulling out her famous lasagna-- fuck yea. "Tell me about what you've been up to."

I open my mouth to respond but flinch upon feeling my phone suddenly vibrate in my pocket. Fumbling to pull it out, I send an apologetic glance toward Lisa who only shakes her head, a gentle smile on her lips.

I look down at my phone, brows scrunching together upon reading "Heather" across my screen. Dammit. Is it really that time of the year again?

It's my mother. We don't talk much. And when we do, it's because dad hasn't paid her yet. For what? Child support? I have no siblings. She's just some important, top notch executive on Wall Street that still milks her ex husband and daughter of any asset they have.

Sighing, I debate on what to do. I should just decline it. But if I decline, she'll bother dad. And when they talk, I don't see my dad for weeks at a time. Not because he's avoiding me or depressed... it's because she convinces him to send her more money and that ends in him having to work much more than he already does.

I begrudgingly answer the call, bringing the device to my ear with a pounding heart. I don't want this. I never do.

"Y/n," my mothers brusque voice filters through the call and I grimace, jaw clenched tight. "Bruce is late."

"Does it matter?" I bite out. I have every reason to treat her this way. She couldn't even tell her own daughter hello after going silent for months. Why should I offer her any kindness?

My mother scoffs, disbelief in the noise. "Of course, it matters," she snaps at me, devoid of any kind of motherly affection. Not like it's surprising. "When we split, the deal was that I get $1,500 monthly. And when he doesn't have it, I have to come get it from you."

"Don't you have anyone else you can bother?" I sigh, thinking of the money stacking up in my bank account. Half of it's going to have to fall to her now. "Or are your other children from the rest of your failed marriages not talking to you either?"

Heather goes silent. I immediately regret my words, especially upon noticing Lisa, Henry, and Sal go still. Their attention on me. I hide behind my hair, tipping my head down so it falls in my face.

"You ungrateful brat," Heather seethes into the phone. I grimace, but it's not enough to make me back down. This isn't the first time she's said those three words to me. If anything, I'm used to it. "Don't you know how much I sacrificed to raise you?"

I pinch my lips together, wondering why she bothered to try and raise me at all. Not like she stuck around long enough to do much raising in the first place.

As if Lisa could tell things were beginning to spiral, she lays a hand on my shoulder and whispers, "Is that your mama?"

I swallow thickly, nodding in confirmation. Lisa and my mom used to butt heads constantly. Lisa loathed my mom and the tight leash she held on me as a child. I'm lucky I got to meet Ash, Larry, and Todd at all.

"Put her on speaker for me," Lisa says in response to my nod, a maniachal little grin on her aged face. That must be where Larry got it from.

My mouth dry, I lay my phone down on the table, ignoring the curses and insults my mother spews until I click the button that puts her on speaker. And then her voice echoes through Lisa and Henry's living room, Heather's harsh and aggressive words splayed out for everyone to bear witness to.

"You and your little ploy of being something special. Pathetic," she spits, her voice cracking. "Did you think you could hide from me?" A humorless laugh. "That you could hide behind that stupid name? What was it— VioletViolence? Should I tell the world about what a disappointment you are? Or how about I show them your face?"

I suck in a shocked, shaky breath, my eyes going wide as panic rips my inside to ribbons. My heart threatens to burst from my chest as a tsunami of fear and and anxiety drowns me.

My own mother, selling me out for not getting her way.

With nothing else to do but pant down at the screen, ignorant of the other bodies in the room, I leap from my chair. My hands brace against the dinner table, my mouth gaping as I try to find words and rifle through my thoughts.

A hand snatches my phone in a split second. Lisa.

"You're on speaker, Heather dear." The words are laced with ice. With hateful promises of revenge so vicious, I couldn't even begin to dream of the possibilities. "I suggest you watch what you say."

My mother starts spitting out nonsense again, but Lisa takes her off of speaker and disappears into the next room, no doubt to give her a verbal beating.

Fuck. What do I do? I need to talk to Ash. I need to talk to dad. I need someone to ground me because I'm free floating through my own terror at this point. Shame and panic have gripped me whole, threatening to take everything that I am. Claim everything that I've built up for myself and tear it all down.

I don't know what to do. Heather is big enough in New York that she can slather my name across headlines and leak every personal aspect about me. For the entire world to see.

And how could I stop her? I'm nothing. I'm just a random streamer that maybe a few thousand people know about. I don't matter. I never mattered.

Hands cup my cheeks— warm, rough ones. They force my head to tilt upward until I'm gazing into pretty, azure eyes. And while I'm not surprised to see cerulean hair, I am taken aback upon finding that the hair is long, rather than short.

Of every possibility, I expected Henry over Sal. In every lifetime. So maybe Sal knows something that I don't about anxiety and averting attention because his hands on my face and his eyes gazing into mine shocks me into stillness. A pause. A moment where no thoughts enter or leave my brain. Everything just freezes.

But I watch his eyes. Eyebrows furrowed, determination and confidence reflected in his light irises. A little spear of panic stabs at me upon seeing one of his pupils dilated. It's not a bad panic, but it's panic in the sense that he's very obviously worried for me.

I don't want his pity. But right now, with him conveying the words 'Everything will be okay' through eye contact alone, I grasp onto his pity. I hold onto it for dear life.

Hold onto the way his fingertips press into my cheeks and jaw, their grasp so tender but assertive. The cool bite of his rings against my cheeks. Our physical contact telling me to focus on him rather than outside issues. The warmth of his skin on mine. And when his index discreetly pushes a strand of hair away from my lips.

I latch onto all of it, the once in a lifetime comfort he's offering. I leech on the one tether I have to sanity, gripping his wrists in my cold palms and watching him the way his eyes beg me to.

"I am not doing this as a friend," Sal starts quietly, never blinking beneath that strong stare. His tone a perfect mask of calm, of stability. "I am not doing this as a companion. I am not doing this as someone who cares." All mistaken meanings combined— he's touching every base so that I don't misunderstand his approach. "I am doing this as someone who understands." His thumb rubs over my too warm skin, soothing whatever negativity is still roiling around inside. I try to ignore the sparks of want that erupt throughout my body. It's not insatiable, it's just an overwhelming desire to keep his hands on my face. To have him shield me from everything.

"Get your head on straight." Those words, spoken so gently but with a dominant edge— all to give me a mental launching pad so that I'm not fighting alone right now. "Remember that you have the power to sue the fuck out of anyone who comes for you. Okay?"

I swallow thickly, roaring at the tears that suddenly sting my eyes. Not now, not in front of him.

But I nod. And he pulls away. I feel the lack of his warmth immediately, the emptiness.

Another phone rings and Sal hisses in front of me, but I don't pay much mind. I'm too busy trying to reel myself in and remember that there's always a solution. I'll be fine, it'll all be fine.

"What?" Sal snaps, frustration lacing his pretty voice. Then silence, aside from Lisa getting real aggressive with my mom in a bedroom to the right.

I look up, noting his phone held to his ear and those baby blue eyes darting back and forth along the carpeted floor.

"Fine. We'll head back. When are you guys leaving?" Sal says, still a bit snappy but softer this time. I guess he's talking to either Ash or Larry.

Sal doesn't even say goodbye, just shuts his phone off and tucks it away before turning to his dad. "I'm sorry, but we have to leave," he says, voice emotionless like it had been earlier. My mood only seems to dampen at the sound. "Can you get Lisa?"

Henry knows the drill. He nods grimly then goes over to the room Lisa's in, pulling her out as she snaps a dark, "Rot in hell." into the phone before ending the call.

My eyebrows raise, a hint of amusement flitting through me at the remark. Heather deserved that.

Lisa rushes over to me, handing over my phone and cupping my face in her hands like Sal did just moments ago. "Don't let her scare you, honey. She's a mean old lady with nothing better to do," she tells me gently, smiling sadly.

A watery laugh leaves me, but being on the verge of tears, I really don't trust myself to utter a single word.

Lisa seems to understand. She rubs my cheek, kisses the top of my head, then pulls away. "Come visit me before you all leave."

I nod, swallowing thickly. Praying that I bounce back from this and set some boundaries with my mom. However that sliver of hell on earth will go.

Sal and I walk out moments later. Our journey back to his house is spent in the dark, crickets chirping and owls hooting. We don't talk. Sal was respectful enough in that sense, but I hardly remember the walk back. It went so fast, took so little effort with my mind trained on other things.

And Ash, unaware of what went down at Henry and Lisa's, greets me with a yelled, "Where the hell did you two even hide!? We checked, like, everywhere!" She pauses, assessing me. "And how the hell did you get into Sal's hoodie without either of you ripping each other apart!?"

"We didn't hide," I mumble, giving her a smile I don't feel and walking to the couch. I'm numb. Whereas the world was crashing down around me at the apartments earlier, now it's just stagnant. I can't find it in me to care.

Ash goes quiet, although I feel her gaze on me. "Are you alright, sweetheart?" She asks, tone comforting and sweet.

"Yea," I sigh. I don't want to worry her. I can tell her about what happened later if she's still concerned. "Just tired."

She hums like she doesn't believe me, but says, "Okay, so I guess you don't want to come out with Larry and I? We're going to a bar on main street."

I shake my head, turning on the TV and completely checking out of the conversation. My social battery is empty for the night-- I just want to be alone.

I vaguely hear Ash and Larry asking if Sal wants to join, but he declines. Walks over to his room in my peripheral.

Then the front door shuts, buffering the sound of Ash and Larry's conversation. Their voices are muted, hardly carrying into the house now.

I stay perched on the couch, turning to Sal when he doesn't immediately disappear into his room.

His one hand holds onto the door jamb, his chest and head poking out of his bedroom door while the rest of him stays hidden. His prosthetic turned to the front door, listening as his friends voices grow quieter with the distance they create as they walk away from us.

This should be an opportunity for me, but I don't have anything in me to start up a game with Sal right now. His pep-talk helped me earlier, but now I just... I don't want to socialize. I don't want to talk. I don't want to have to fight to get some short-lived distraction from Sal. Even if it would be nice, it just isn't us unless we're making it unique. Personal. Filled with hate and loathing. 

I realize I'm staring his way when his gaze suddenly cuts to me. Those haunting blue eyes glance around my body before settling on my face, both of us watching each other. Emotionless.

Then he disappears into his room, door shutting softly behind him. 

Sal may be a lot of things-- bad things-- but I have to give it to him. He knows how to read a room, when to be serious, and when to back down. He has never once disrespected my decision and he holds the championship for that kind of care even now. 

It's not much, but he treats me like an actual human being whenever I need it most. When I'm mentally stable is when he breaks free from that facade and creates chaos. And that-- that's fine. That's what makes being stuck in his presence fun.

I chew on my bottom lip, dissociating a bit as I watch his closed door, listening to automated laughter on the television before me. 

I blink out of my daze when Sal's door swings open again and he pokes his head out. He doesn't look at me at first, his fingertips pressing into the door jamb again. But when he finally does turn his attention to me, those darkened eyes catching my own, he says, "I don't know how to word this."

I'm unable to form my own words. He clearly wants to ask me something. Why is hesitant? It's unlike him. Unsettling. "You've never filtered yourself before. Spit it out," I simply reply. 

I hate that damned prosthetic. I wish he'd keep it off forever so I could see his expression. So I could get some kind of read on him, if at all possible.

Because he just stands there, just watches me. Hell, he doesn't even blink for what feels like ages. 

"Let me fuck you," He seems to force out, like the words weighed a ton. "With your permission, of course."

I don't know what kind of face to put on, what kind of reaction to have. I'm used to him being upfront like this, but the salacious claim still catches me off guard when I least expect it. I did not foresee him walking right back out of his room with a sex proposal. Never in a million years, at least not with the kind of mood I'm in.

But I debate it. I sit on the offer for a minute, let it percolate. I want it-- I really do. Our entire arrangement is for sex. But can I do it right now? Can I handle the arguments and strife that comes with our rocky situation?

"How about I lay down ideas?" Sal interrupts my train of thought, tone one of contemplation and hesitance, like even he's nervous about approaching me like this. 

I tilt my head, but nod nonetheless. I can hear him out.

Sal averts his gaze beneath my stare before he very obviously forces himself to look me in the eye again. Cute.

"You had a bad day. We all have those. So a distraction would be nice, right?" I watch his Adam's apple bob. "Lucky for you, I have a cock. I can't think of a better distraction to be honest."

I nearly scowl. Cocky as ever.

"I'll do whatever you ask of me tonight though. Just for tonight," he pauses, sensual gaze traveling over my body like he already knows his next words will make me fold. The same way the audible change in his voice-- from nervous to assertive, sure of himself-- makes me lean toward giving into him. "I'll let you make a request. You don't have to say a single word tonight. If you want it gentle, I'll give it to you. If you want it rough, I'll make you plead until Lar and Ash return."

My mouth goes dry as I hold his gaze, my limbs quaking at the prospect of him being my bitch for the night. What a day to be alive. No matter how tonight goes, whatever I ask for, I know it'll end well.

"I will do whatever you want."

My tongue runs over my bottom lip as my eyes travel down his neck and over the top of his chest, relishing in the edge of that tattoo on his throat. 

I suck in a quick breath. "Promise? Whatever I want?" The words are hoarse, raspy as they fall from my lips.

"Anything," he confirms breathlessly, impatiently anticipating my answer.

I chew on the inside of my cheek, already knowing my decision. 

My feet press into the floor as I stand, walking over to him with venom and adrenaline in my veins.

"Then let's see what you've got."

-----------

A/N::::::: y'all already know the tw for next chapter HAAAAHAHAHAHA

hiiii my babies :3 i liked this chap when i first typed it out like two weeks ago but now i kind of hate it o_e also, i planned on having this published MUCH sooner butttt unfortunately finals are approaching so that means i've been getting slapped with project and exams in preparation for said finals soooo.... i've been busy >~< haven't even had the damn time to come and think about my mean sal </3

PLEASE GIVE ME RECOMMENDATIONS SO I CAN IMPROVE MY WRITING-- what did you like here? what didn't you like? what's a suggestion for improvement? what should i omit overall? THANK U <333

as always, my love, my heart, and my soul go out to all of you. have a wonderful morning/day/evening/night!! <333

[deaconsleatherpants]

not directly Halloween-related but I wanted to whip up something to fit the spooky vibe all the same 😌

The little cabin in front of you was only dimly lit, soft candlelight filtering through grimy windows; green fingers of ivy crept up the outer brick walls, while twin crows perching on the roof cawed out ominously, silhouetted against the setting sun. Really, the place looked like the stereotypical witch's house described in every storybook, plucked straight out of the pages and dropped right in front of you.

If the stories had any grain of truth to them, it would be silly to knock on the door. But when you glanced around, you saw only dark woods in every direction. Even if this cabin was an obvious trap, it wasn't like you really had many alternative options at the moment. Getting lost in a creepy forest hadn't been in your plans for the evening, but here you were, and you'd been lucky enough to find this cabin, a welcome beacon of civilization in a forest that seemed strangely... otherworldly.

Which was probably silly, of course.

But you still knocked on the door, because what else were you supposed to do at this point?

You really didn't know what you expected. A stereotypical witch to match the stereotypical house, perhaps - but you definitely didn't expect the man who opened the door. His long black hair framed his face, green eyes sharp and perhaps a bit suspicious, although not hostile. Your gaze fell to his tidy grey waistcoat and ornate jewelry, then to the velvet cape with its dapper teal lining - this man was very well put-together, for someone who ostensibly lived alone in the middle of a thick forest. Somehow he didn't look caught off-guard by your impromptu visit, either, even though there couldn't have been anyone else around for miles.

Clearing your throat, you did your best to explain your predicament, and how it would be a great help if he would only let you find shelter under his roof for the night. He didn't seem surprised by this, gesturing for you to come in with a grace that suggested he was either just a particularly welcoming host who just so happened to live like a hermit, or had somehow been expecting your arrival. Which couldn't be, of course. That was patently ridiculous.

Cautiously you let him usher you inside, eyeing dusty bookshelves full of thick tomes and displays of beautifully carved crystals. There were runes carved over each doorframe, tiny little sigils that seemed to glow with some internal power. You stared at them curiously.

The man showed you to what must have been the living room, worn velvet armchairs arranged in a semicircle around an inviting fireplace. You wondered what his name was, and in the same beat you clearly heard him say "Haxan." You blinked. How did he do that?

"What?"

"I am Haxan." The man - Haxan - grinned at you, sitting down in one of the chairs and steepling his fingers. Unsure what else to do, you perched in the chair opposite. This situation felt so strange, and though there were alarm bells going off in your mind, you also felt a profound sense of calm. Like whatever else he might be, Haxan would never harm you in any way. It was silly that you should feel that way mere moments after meeting the man, but you figured it was probably some sort of magic he was sending out, and you weren't sure if that thought should make you feel better or worse.

"I have been expecting you," he said finally, and you decided you were just going to have to get used to the idea of things not making any sense. So you just nodded, figuring that it would be easy to escape into the endless woods if anything were to go wrong. Whatever was going on here, you were in the thick of it now.

"Perhaps you can... help me." He continued, leaning forwards in the armchair, green eyes narrowing playfully as his lips curled upwards in a grin. You weren't really sure what you could do that a mysterious forest witch couldn't, but your curiosity piqued.

"What do you need?" It wasn't a promise by any means, but his grin only widened, and sharpened into something triumphant.

[highdramas]

don’t you hear me howling | t.m.

pairing: tommy miller x f!reader

warnings: language, canon typical sadness, allusions to violence

word count: 3019

summary: you’re a wild thing, unable to be tamed by anyone, least of all tommy. but perhaps he can provide you a safe place to land, if only you would let him.

notes: if you are under 18 do not interact with my work or this fic. i will absolutely be continuing this because yes i am obsessed with this vibe!

you hadn’t been a nice girl in a very, very long time.

if someone asked you if you were a bad person, you’re not quite sure what you would have to say for yourself. is anyone good in the same way that a person could be good in the before times? you, personally, don’t think so. but moral righteousness continues even in the face of an apocalypse, so you suppose that you will continue to have to answer for the crimes that you have committed. crimes that aren’t crimes at all, really– crimes to live. crimes to survive.

tommy miller was a nice man. a kind man. and you should’ve felt worse for the things that he did– the things he did for you. but you don’t.

you hear the familiar knock against the door of your cabin. you’d been on your own for a long time. you originally came from the los angeles qz, and maybe you would’ve been better off there. but time had brought you further east until you had settled in the wood outside of jackson. the winters were cold and the food was scarce, but you got by. and it was better than your alternatives. it was better than tricking and killing and tricking again and killing again, over and over, in the thick of a qz that’s overrun by corrupt fedra soldiers. this was better than any of that could ever be.

but, still. it doesn’t matter how familiar the knock is. you keep your pistol drawn as you open the door. he has a small smile on his face, hands raised. “if you shoot me, who’s gonna bring you this sweet, sweet grub?”

“i would find another sorry schmuck with a savior complex around here somewhere.”

this gets a huff of a laugh and a tiny nod of his head. “i don’t know if anyone else could survive you.”

the spread that he supplies you this week is more than you could’ve asked for. this is routine between the two of you. he brings supplies and you… what do you supply, really? you bring the knowledge that the land surrounding the jackson settlement is protected, you suppose. no one had gotten past your cabin in months. it was mutually beneficial; you’d kill anyone, didn’t matter how nice they were, and tommy never had to know about it. in return, you got their gear. and supplies.

you always wondered what tommy told them. his people, the people back in jackson who relied on him, and relied on you to keep this surrounding land safe, even if they weren’t fully aware of you. you wondered what his explanation was for why he enjoyed these woods so much.

your name had caught on the wind and ridden it; not your true name, but the name that the earth gave you. some say you’re a witch, some say you’re the devil. some say you’re the guardian over these woods. in a way, you suppose all of those are true to varying degrees. you don’t care what they say as long as you get to survive. why do you fight so hard to live? you don’t really know the answer to that question, either.

and maybe your weekly visit from your neighbor keeps you human in a world that’s begging to make you undead and unfeeling. 

it was funny, you couldn’t help but think. tommy miller’s penchant for visiting a creature such as yourself. you had no idea that he liked strays so much.

but, oh, he did. he liked you much more than he was capable of putting into words, into justification. it didn’t matter when people in jackson questioned what business he had outside the border; he reminded people that they didn’t need to have all the answers. that some things were better left unsaid.

but were you better left unsaid? sometimes, he gazed upon you and an invitation to his home was on the tip of his tongue. he wanted to tell you how you could be welcomed into a fold, into a pack. you were a wolf but so was everyone else and, yes, they would be wary– but surely not as wary as you would be of them. sometimes he looked at you and it was so easy to imagine how you could sit shoulder to shoulder at a dinner table. how he might like to watch as you settle into a seat for movie night. did you have a favorite movie? might he be able to track it down for you? these are the thoughts that he falls asleep and awakes with. you have become a ghost in his mind, inhabiting every corner of his brain and knocking on his skull, your sirens song in his ear at every hour of the day.

you represented everything that he had tried to leave behind. all of the bad things that he had done with joel– you were still willing to do those bad things, even if they weren’t your first pick anymore. that was your idea of survival. and he doesn’t want to save you, he doesn’t want to rescue you from what you have chosen, even if you tease him about his savior complex.

but there is a piece of him that wants to be with you.

i don’t know if anyone else would be able to survive you. you don’t know, either. your meeting with tommy miller was pure happenstance, was purely born from the fact that you needed a refuge and he had offered it to you. you were nothing more than a feral cat– injured and scared and ready to scratch. but he had learned how to be patient with you, how to crouch and extend his hand and let you go to him. you would’ve died if tommy miller hadn’t found you in these woods. if the elements and your illness hadn’t taken you, someone with the most sinister of intentions would’ve. you lucked out, that day. stumbling upon tommy.

he had tried to get your permission to take you back to jackson, where there was a doctor who could look at you and help you. but you had refused his offer and you had hissed at him to leave you, to take you somewhere dry and sheltered from the snow storm and to leave you there. it wasn’t the way that you wanted to go, but it was better than your alternatives.

but tommy miller, for all of his strengths, is nothing if not a stubborn man. and he wasn’t going to let you go.

when he lead you to the cabin that would become the refuge you know it to be now, when he had left you, you were convinced you wouldn’t see him again. that he was an angel sent from a god that you never believed in to offer you some sort of comfort in those final moments. but when he returned, you decided that this god must enjoy playing cruel tricks on you. perhaps it was a retribution for all of the horrible things you’d done. you deserved it, didn’t you?

those days are a blur. your wound had been infected and had long made you delirious, even if you were still fighting, still trying to scrape together any amount of strength you had to stay alive. but the winter was so harsh and yet you burned so hot. you remember drifting in and out of consciousness, you remember how tommy stayed there with you. how he scarcely left your side. made you eat, made you drink, gave you medicine. all of those things that tommy had done for you.

so, yes. maybe no one else would be able to survive you. but they didn’t see you the way that tommy had seen you. weak and scared, more animal than woman in those days. some days, those instincts still took over, and you were still that feral beast from before. a horse tied to a tree too long, mean like a bad dog, a reclusive jittery cat.

some days, you’re human again, and it feels good.

“i thought you liked that no one else survives me.” you look at him over your shoulder, dunking your fresh tea bag into a mug of steaming water. “that’s why you keep me around, no? so that no one else survives?”

“one of many reasons.”

tommy steps inside and he puts the bags to your dingy table with a plunk. over the course of the past year, you and tommy had really done something with the place. still, when you look at the floors you’re reminded of yourself slumped on it, when the place stank of near-death and medical grade alcohol. but he had brought wood out here and the two of you had built your furniture. he brought things in batches– sheets and pillows and all of the things that you would need to live, to truly live. you had a small gas powered stovetop which allowed you to cook more comfortably than you would’ve otherwise.

it wasn’t ideal. it wasn’t anywhere close to ideal, and if tommy had it his way, he would whisk you away to jackson and you would leave this house behind forever. but it didn’t work that way, and that was okay, too. he’d learned quickly that trying to persuade you of anything was futile.

“well,” you prop your hand on your hip as you watch him. “nice to know that there’s more than one.”

those dark, pretty eyes settle on you. “don’t play dumb. there’s plenty of reasons.”

you scoff and roll your eyes, waving your hand in a dismissive gesture. “sure.” you sit down at the table and gesture for him to do the same. there are only two chairs in this home: yours, and his. “so. tell me the latest.”

it fascinated him, the way that you so deeply refused to live the way he does, yet you’re so intrinsically drawn to it. you know almost every name of every person who lives in jackson. you know the families, you know the couples, you know who has hooked up with who and why they won’t make it official. all of the things that make jackson a normal, real society– those are the things that you beg tommy to tell you of. and, sure, if you were brought face to face with them… you might just snarl.

but this was the thing about knowing tommy. it was so easy to pretend that it’s all just make believe, that jackson is this fictional place and tommy is still just some figment of your imagination. hell, maybe he is. maybe you’ve been in a coma this whole god damn time and god is toying with you in purgatory.

you like thinking that’s not the case. you like whatever this thing is between you and tommy. it feels good.

and so, tommy does. he gives you the latest gossip in town. he’s even found himself in the past year prying more into the business of others because he knows that you’d get a kick out of it. that you’d kick him for not offering more information, so he digs a bit deeper than he might have before he knew you.

towards the end, he says, “and…” he clears his throat and glances down at his interlocked hands. “somethin’ else happened.”

you tilt your head to the side.

“my brother.” he looks you head on. “he came to jackson. came from the east, we were on patrol. shit, if he had come from the west…” he shakes his head and he says what you’re both thinking.

if he had come from the west, you would’ve killed him, without a second thought. maybe, just maybe if he had spit out fast enough that he was looking for someone named tommy, you would’ve spared him.

“had a girl with him. a little girl. he’s trying to get her to the fireflies.” tommy shakes his head. “seein’ him…” he looses a breath. “man. i didn’t know what that was gonna be like, but…”

his eyes find yours and there’s something hidden in your eyes that he finds comforting. it’s like you don’t know how to comfort him, but he can tell that you wish to, and that’s enough. “it was good to see him,” he finally settles upon saying, glancing down at his hands. “it was real good.”

“that’s nice,” you say softly, clearing your throat, setting your mug down. your hands are rubbing at your thighs and this is where you get that familiar itch. that itch that can only be scratched by shutting tommy out, by closing the door in his face and secretly hoping that maybe next time he won’t come by. maybe he’ll get tired of you and you’ll finally have a viable excuse to move on from this cabin in these woods and you won’t have to look back. you won’t have to miss a man who you shouldn’t feel a damn thing towards. but, you resist. “i didn’t know you had a brother,” is what you settle on saying, and it makes tommy’s head snap up in an instant.”

the corner of his mouth turns up, and it’s as though he knows that he has won something, that he has made some sort of breakthrough. you look away because that near-smile is just too damn much and he says, “he’s my big brother. was with him on outbreak day.” he clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth. “can i keep talkin’ about this, or are you gonna run for the hills?”

you scowl and meet his gaze. a million things rest in your eyes and all of them fascinate tommy. how you can be so cruel but so beautiful, so harsh and so cold but so warm and so inviting, almost intoxicating to him. there’s something forbidden about what rests between you, about this secret that he harbors. there are women in jackson who long for his attention, who attempt to grasp it with their hands. but you have his attention by the neck, your fingers putting bruises into it with how hard you grip him. how enthralled he is by you. it would be so much easier if he could fall in love with a woman in jackson. if he could fall in love with anyone who isn’t you, isn’t the witch of these woods.

“i’m not running.” you jut your head up, your jaw set in defiance. “so keep talking.”

and he does. for all of the time that you’ve spent with tommy, there’s not much that you have known about his history. but you learn. over the course of that time with tommy, you learn so much of it– joel and sarah and what their life had been like before outbreak day. what tommy liked to do. what his friends were like. so much is shared and then he’s left sitting there and you’re opening and closing your mouth, and there’s a part of you that wants to spill your own history right there at his feet, but… it’s too much.

he senses it in you. you stand up and you pace back and forth once and then turn to the meager kitchen, your hands gripping the counter. your history swirls around in your head and if you could throw it up everywhere instead of speaking it you would, it might be easier.

tommy is behind you. his hands ghost over your arms and he slowly touches you and it makes your eyes squeeze shut. “what are you afraid of?” he murmurs. “is it me you’re scared of? is that it?”

your stomach turns and you reach up to rub your forehead. “yes. no. i don’t know.” your voice is quiet and broken, and you’re more like the girl you were on that first day than you have been in a very long time.

“afraid of me knowing you?”

and that’s it, isn’t it? he hits the nail on the head because despite your best efforts, despite all of the things that you keep so close to your chest, despite all of the ways that you attempt to push tommy away, he does know you. deeply.

slowly, you nod your head. “terrified.” you look up out the small window, at the blanket of untouched snow. “because how does this end?”

“i don’t know what you mean.”

“do i come with you?” you turn slowly and his hands fall to his sides. he’s struck by this look in your face, the closest to tears he’s ever seen you. “is that it? i come and live with you in jackson? i–” you laugh. “i don’t know if i’m capable of living the way that you live.”

“try.” tommy’s hands go to your shoulders and he jostles you a bit and it almost catches you off guard. “try. for me. can’t you?”

“i don’t know,” you whisper to him. “i’m not good.”

“you think i’m good?” he’s not offended that you flinch when he reaches out and touches your face. his hold is gentle but that doesn’t matter– this is a world of violence, and he’d probably flinch, too. “i’m not good. not even close. but that place gets me closer to good every day.” his eyes bounce around your face. “you deserve to feel good.”

“i don’t know if i do,” you murmur and you shrug out of his grasp, shake him off of you, pretend like it doesn’t mean anything when you both know how much it does. your eyes shine when you stare at him. “and even if i do… i don’t know if i’m ready.”

“that’s alright.” tommy licks his lips and he nods once. “i’m gonna be waiting for when you are.”

it had never been put in such plain terms before. but now there’s a gleam of something in tommy’s eyes– determination. “i’ll wait as long as i need to.”

what is there to say to that? you lean back against the counter, grip it with cracked nails, and nod. “okay.”

[findroleplay]

Hai! 14-19, Discord rp!!

Ok let me start off with myself, I’m a lit novella writer with an interest in finding an rp partner who is fine with playing multiple characters. I find roleplay to be mkre about creating a story with someone than a game/nsfw thing! In fact because I’m 15, I don’t do nsfw. I am interested in becoming ooc friends and enjoying being silly! I’m not looking for people who write 2-3 sentences.

My favorite ideas can be separated by story/platonic roleplays:

Abusive family to found family (hurt/comfort, whump, angst, fluff and any sub genre, child character)

Coming to terms with death, with your best friend (wholesome, fluffy, darkish, adult characters probably)

Fun adventures with a friend group (or found family) hunting demons (silly, whimsical, group and any ages)!

A boarding school mystery with an old man in the woods and a spunky protagonist (tlou vibes, mystery, hurt/comfort)

Romance roleplays:

Soulmates but one of them is a demon, and the other is trying to save the world (funny, silly, light hearted, flirty villain x awkward hero)

Witch hunter x witch discovering that the world is ending (darkish, ANGST, enemies to lovers)

Divorced parents try to put aside their feelings to find their missing kid (sweet, recovery, hurt/comfort, adventure)

Short roleplays:

A musical with two lead actors who can’t get along

Greek gods get into an argument that goes a little haywire

In a hellish apocalypse, two people find companionship even when one of them is infected

Abstract roleplays:

Hell is not a molten, churning fire, it’s not ice giving way to miles of nothing deep inside the earth. "Hell isn’t a place, it’s you."

"I don’t want you to love me, I don’t want to be that to you. I don’t want to be the lamb nibbling at your ear. I want to be the canine tearing your flesh, I want to be something you remember. And then I want to hate you."

"Make me your villain, think that you love something evil. That I’ve stained you, but you should know that everyone you tell will know that you are stained." And. "I love you like I breathe, with everything I have. And if I ever stop loving you, then I have nothing. And if I’m the villain in your tale, then you are the pure sun, and I was not ready to breathe."

I don’t expect you to have a similar style btw, I just wanted these prompts to give a good idea of who i am and how I write ^^

-

[snickerzanddoodlez]

Please check out my passion project over on #my-silly-little-guys !

Want to support my work or commission me? Check out my Ko-Fi!

I’m the director of the unofficial Wordgirl Reboot, Wordgirl: Rewired, and applications for the project are always, ALWAYS open! (And so is my inbox!)

If I reblog your art that means I’m begging you to join wordgirl rewired

(Check out Wordgirl Armageddon, an effort to help all of us Wordgirlies make some new friends and have some fun :))

2024: I GUARANTEE REVENGES ON ARTFIGHT! ATTACK ME IF YOU DARE :3 https://artfight.net/~SnickerzandDoodlez

ABOUT ME

NAME: SnickerDoodlez / SnickerzandDoodlez / Snickernova Doodlez

Nickname: Any variation of this! Snicky, Snicker, Doodlez, Snickerz, SnickyD…

Main Social: https://youtube.com/@snickerdoodlez9210?si=ZXtyZJl8kPCLS8iB

And as for Tumblr, you’ll see me more on @crown-of-roses-thsc !

She/Her; Straight; Minor

Hobbies/Skills: Drawing, Animating, Coding (learning), Writing

Language: English, American Sign Language (learning)

Neurodivergencies: OCD, ADHD, Major Depressive Disorder, maybe Autistic

Random Facts:

-I’m a theatre kid!

-I love horror / disturbing things, maybe a little too much

-I grew up on the Warriors fandom, and that’s an angsty angsty burden I’ll carry into every fandom I join

-I’m the director of Wordgirl Rewired!

-I’m a Christian, but don’t let that scare you off- I’m just here to have fun & spread positive vibes! *sticks a golden star sticker to your forehead* And I’m a huge horror fan…and fantasy fan….and I draw a lot of gore….Christians stop gatekeeping creativity (impossible? Not clickbait? Don’t try at 3:AM???)

Oh, and Friendly reminder to my fellow Christians that if you’re cursing someone out for doing or believing or BEING something you don’t agree with, you’re literally doing the opposite of what Jesus did….and I think you’ve got a might big plank in your eye that ya need to take out ;)

Sona:

~READ MORE FOR WAY TOO MUCH INFO~

Fandoms:

Wordgirl

The Henry Stickmin Collection

Don’t Starve / Don’t Starve Together

Wings of Fire

Warrior Cats

A Hat in Time

Wild Kratts

UnderTale / UnderTale Yellow

Favorite Movies:

Fantastic Mr. Fox

Live-Action Beauty and the Beast

Princess and The Frog

Secondhand Lions

Lilo and Stitch

Stranger Than Fiction

Into The Woods

Isle of Dogs

The Greatest Showman

Les Miserablés

Padak

The Rise of Miss Power

Coraline

School of Rock

Favorite Musicals:

Beetlejuice

Phantom of the Opera

Into The Woods

Les Miserablés

Heathers

Guys and Dolls

Favorite Color:

Magenta

Favorite Show:

Spy x Family

Wordgirl

Gravity Falls

DuckTales 2017

Camp Camp

Bojack Horseman

Parks and Recreation

Favorite Song:

House of Memories (Panic! At the Disco)

As the World Caves In (Matt Maltese)

Please Never Fall in Love Again (Ollie MN)

Karma (AJR)

Red Flags (Tom Cardy)

Lost One’s Weeping (Neru)

Cupid (Jack Stauber)

Goodbye to a World (Porter Robinson)

Sweet Rosalie (American Murder Songs)

No Children (The Mountain Goats)

The Haunted Phonograph (ThouShaltNot)

Puff The Magic Dragon (Peter, Paul & Mary)

The Ballad of Billy The Kid (Billy Joel)

Stranded Lullaby (Miracle Musical)

Business Man (Tom Cardy)

Favorite Song Artist:

The Stupendium

They Might Be Giants

The Mountain Goats

Jack Stauber

Lemon Demon

Evelyn Evelyn

Tally Hall

American Murder Songs

Mother Mother

Kaden McKay

Favorite Book:

Crookedstar’s Promise

School for Good and Evil

Warrior Cats (Arc 1)

The Bunker Diaries

Prisoner of Azkaban

Survivor Dogs

Favorite Food:

French Fries

Croutons

Goldfish

Kanelope

Favorite Game:

A Hat in Time

The Henry Stickmin Collection

Splatoon

Wolf Quest: Anniversary Addition

Don’t Starve Together

King’s Quest

The Witch’s House

Super Paper Mario

Cuphead

Undertale

Favorite Animal:

Tasmanian Devils

Rats

Kangaroos / Wallabies

Komodo Dragons

Dragons

Pigeons

MY BABY BOYS:

(Note: I am not defending any of these characters Mineta is a horrible person I just like skrunkly little fictional simps and gravitate towards the characters everyone hates)

Felix White (Henry Stickmin)

Tobey (Wordgirl)

Nuka (The Lion King 2)

Whisper (Survivors)

Spike (My Little Pony)

Spike (Friendship Is Witchcraft)

Minetta (My Hero Acedamia)

Hort (School For Good and Evil)

Sheldon (Splatoon)

Lefou (Beauty and The Beast)

Tammy (Tammy)

Plankton (Spongebob)

Zach (Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt)

One-Eyed Wally (Amphibia)

Emmet (Legally Blonde)

Dr. Hare (Poptropica)

Todd (Bojack Horseman)

Muck (Bob the Builder)

Octavio (Splatoon)

Pokétwo (Discord)

Tom (Parks and Recreation)

Rumplestiltskin (Shrek 4)

Squid (Wings of Fire)

Darkheart (Care Bears II: The Next Generation)

Zach Varmitech (Wild Kratts)

Garry (Ib)

Bartok (Anastasia)

David (Camp Camp)

Varian (Tangled the Series)

Frankie (Spy x Family)

Mayor Humdinger (Paw Patrol: Movies)

Mortimer Freeze (Cuphead: The Delicious Last Course)

Wally Warbles (Cuphead)

The Peas (VeggieTales)

Chameleon (Wings of Fire)

Jax (The Amazing Digital Circus)

Wilson (Don’t Starve)

Mad Dummy (Undertale)

Napstablook (UnderTale)

Toad (Mario)

Flick (Animal Crossing: New Horizons)

Ares (Percy Jackson)

Louie (DuckTales)

Gyro Gearloose (DuckTales)

Sirius Black (Harry Potter)

Hawt Sauce (Chikn Nuggit)

Swiftpaw (Warrior Cats)

[thelaurenshippen]

I just listened to the finale of @bridgewaterpodcast (out this friday!) so I thought it'd be appropriate to share my secret playlist for the season. if you're not caught up, look away.

I shared my notes on this playlist (and will share my notes for the season two playlist next month) in my monthly mixtape newsletter! and if you want access to all my playlist notes that I've shared in the past, you can become an atypipal plus! but this month, I'm gonna share my notes right here, under the cut:

I didn’t set out to make this playlist, but as I was building both the season and its accompanying playlist, I realized that there were songs popping up that felt right for the season but separate from the main characters. I quickly figured out that these were songs for the Legend Tripper, our mysterious friend turned antagonist. The playlist is called “The LT” because I wanted to make sure no one could figure out what it was for if it was hanging on my Spotify profile (thought I did make it private, I’m always paranoid) and also that’s how we refer to her in the script, especially since the role was not written for a specific gender and therefore all the scripts used “The LT” in place of most pronouns until Tricia was cast. 

I wanted this playlist to feel like wandering into the forest and then slowly realizing that you’re far more lost than you thought. So there’s not a lot of story in this playlist, or even that much character work, just the creeping sensation that you’re not as safe as you thought you were. That someone is having fun at your expense. It’s about the vibes, baby. 

1. “The Rockrose and the Thistle” – The Amazing Devil

LOVE starting with a totally a cappella creepy lullaby type song. 

And I know the kindest thing/Is to leave you alone

2. “Spirit Walks” – Nerina Pallot

Dark is the forest/And bitter are the trees/But I don’t fear/The spirit walks with me

3. “Devil’s Spoke” – Laura Marling

But I am your keeper/And I hold your face away from light/I am yours till they come

4. “It Will Come Back” – Hozier

As with the main Season 2 playlist, there’s two Hozier songs on this one as well! What can I say, this album is perfect. I am obsessed with this idea of feeding something dangerous and it coming back again and again–be careful what you feed. And the casual way in which this sharp-toothed thing is putting the onus on you, the listener – “you know better”, etc. Giving a warning with no intention of heeding it. Jeepers creepers, Hozier is a good lyricist

Don’t let it in with no intention to keep it/Jesus Christ, don’t be kind to it/Honey, don’t feed it, it will come back

5. “Your Fault/Last Midnight” – Into the Woods

The other side of the coin to the placement of “No More” on the Season 2 playlist. This song doesn’t necessarily flow so well in this actual playlist, but it is a song I listened to ad nauseum, especially when writing the last two episodes. The LT is the witch toying with everyone’s petty human problems, even if narratively speaking they serve very different kinds of functions. Also “Your Fault” is just one of the best patter songs ever written. 

6. “In the Woods Somewhere” – Hozier

No lyrics to pull out of this specifically, because the whole song is just a great, creepy narrative. This is when the playlist turns from the LT to more of Jeremy’s POV on the LT. 

7. “Killer + the Sound” – Phoebe Bridgers, Noah Gunderson & Abby Gunderson

There’s a frenetic, disjointed energy I wanted to accomplish with this playlist, the feeling that you can never get your footing and I love that this song, like the one from “Into the Woods” is really two songs in one. 

Nothing ever comes, ever comes if you call it/Choking like a dog, like a dog on a collar/Open up your mouth, your mouth if you want it/Listen for the sound, the sound/The sound is coming down

8. “Flowers” – Hadestown

I opted for the musical version of this song over the Anais Mitchell because I’d already broken the musical theater seal on this playlist and, tbh, I just love singing along to this version. Without spoiling, Jeremy as Eurydice, the LT as Hades…I’ve already said too much.

[rose-grimm-spirit-does-dumb-shit]

https://www.tumblr.com/rose-grimm-spirit-does-dumb-shit/715689037962280960?source=share all of them for alton towers/theme parks in general but I'm especially curious to hear 25

Oh fuck I forgot to respond for almost a year. Warning, a lot of the "god I hate the fandom" moments will mostly be directed at the wider community {e.g. this includes the old toxic nemesis fanboy 40 year old men and such}. The tumblr side of theme parks most of the time have semi-good takes. Anyways uh first on the docket 25: I fucking hate how for some god awful reason there's a consistent hate for the Dockyard Trio at thorpe, I'm talking The Walking Dead: The Ride, Ghost Train, and the late Black Mirror Labyrinth. Like come the fuck on man, give them a chance. They're great, especially if the circumstances align, what you want is a live actor tw day, a dead queue bml run {the high guest throughput is unfortunately what made her seem more shit than she is}, and to just let Ghost Train do her thing as her acting squad are honestly a lovely bunch who wanna give you the best they can.

24: I think right now it's who the world record for fastest accelerration on a rollercoaster is, it rightfully belongs to my bbygirl Stealth of course but if you try to talk about this to Americans, especially Six Flags Americans they will be inherently pissed because it's not Max Force.

23: There is none that I've come around to, but then again there is none I'm inherently against either.

22: The fact that the Marmaliser is it's own sentient being, it's creature but not crreature it's creature inn like how humanns are creature.

21: The 2019 Blair witch scaremaze at Fright Nights, because I'm sorry but it was genuinely dogshit. The finale was a shed that you can't see shit in, and there was supposed to be an actor there.

20: Do I need to bring up Blair Witch 2019, again.

19: I'm a Dead Creek Woods lover, and so many people would shit upon me for that take.

18: LYCANS V AMITY, SO MANY OF YOU ARE SLEEPING ON THAT AND BIRTHDAY BASH TO THE POINT THAT IT'S SAD. THEY'RE AMAZING, SHSUT UP.

17: Can we get Saw/Hyperia actually, they seem incredibly enemies to lovers/besties lesbian. That and general interactions between them in general, like Hyp kept cutting Saw's power over the summer I want people to expand upon that.

16: The idea of Th13teen being a child, like c'mon man just because the adverts had a child and the countdown audio iis a child doesn't mean your oc has to be a child too?

Branch out, be adventureous. Maybe your th13teen is a raceway-membeer who went missing.

15: The Smiler being a silly guy, like silly guy is fun and I admit I commiit to osilly guy too. But the thingi is, Smiler is more than that. Yes Marmal is a silly guy but she alsoo has issues and traumas and witnesses some cracked shit in the moj.

14: See above.

13: S E E A B O V E.

12: Everyone from Thorpe Carnival, especially the Junkyarders. Please they're so cool and fun and the actors who play them are legends, we drew mimes and they thought it was fucking amazing.

If they come back next year, please giive them the world.

11: I have none, tho I did learn that there was a point when we considered General Public as a slur fsr?

10: How whenever you look up Thorpe maps, you wilil be guaranteed to see someone's map mockups where it has planet snoopy and shit like that. The existence of them is annoying bc it clogs up search when you're looking for a specific map only to find 20 fan mockups instead.

9: The Asylum, I am so glad we've moved from that but god... Not the mental institution maze...

8: Holds up the Dockyard Trio, again.

7: I don't think there's anyone.

6: Whenever Stealth or Rita are in a straight ship it fucking irks me out of raw "broooo...", tho I think the only exception is RetrowaveRacer's bc that one doesn't bollock the vibes of Rita.

5: I've only been in 2 ddsicords, both were/are lovely. But I have heard so much bollocks about the others :)

4: Conocerningly, a lot of the time it's either pedophiliia, racisim, or ableism.

3: Gonna name drop this one as ironcially it's someone who was blocked because of the above. ANYONE REMEMBER MTCHIKA'S DOGSHIT THORPE TAKES ABOUT INFERNO "NOT DESERVING TO BE A NEMESIS" AND TWD BEING AND I QUOTE "boring ip boring ride".

2: I don't think about it nor do I have an opinioni on it.

1: Fuckin' Nemesis, entirerly because there are people who forget the fact that she's cannonically a woman.

Happy now?

[artwithoutblood]

i'll start you off by saying the bec de corbin was picked up later in his demonhood. someone showed it to him and he thought it was cool as hell, and so a custom one was gifted to him that runs red in its veins with a hunger.

Nice. Maybe it was Aeron. Middle Eastern culture, blood, history, war. Artisan. Fits their vibe.

The blood thing actually gives me an idea which fits well with something I already had planned.

him being some sort of mercenary turned cult leader is actually really, really fun, and if i wasn't the person i am i would've stolen that. that's fucking brilliant.

It does work. Perhaps Dorian found himself short of cash or needing to escape an unsavory reputation, consequences, or just his miserable life. And he enlisted as soon as possible after his mother passed (I think the minimum was age 17). Perhaps as he grew in confidence he used his deployments as a way to spread the gospel and accumulate followers. Even just camp followers who began to encourage him until he believed his own hype.

There's actually some more interesting things when digging about Gilles de Rais, who comes to mind - being a knight and alleged to have been involved in cults. (Huge TW for child death and SA if googling him. Not a good dude.) 

There are mentions of alleged witch-cults weirdly similar to Dorian's that were being stamped out as heretics. Dianic with an element of fertility, and a sun god that was becoming popular among Roman soldiers. Not related to each other but the Church was not happy and went after a number of the smaller religions including a sub-sect of Christianity. (I already knew about that one.)

in the reality of 10:16, the tattoo on his arm is of the player's name.

Ahhhh... of course. Because the player shares his mother's name. Why didn't I see that coming.

Rebecca is Hebrew so not a great fit. But perhaps she likes to go by her middle name, Agnes, so that's what bird Dorian was always hearing her called. I chose it because in Greek it means pure/chaste/holy and the Roman 'Agnus' means lamb.

Which is an animal motif - she has a trusting naive nature, is unknowingly a prey animal to those who shelter her, and there's the religious overtones. A sheep being protected by a shepherd and a sacrificial lamb to the slaughter. It also lets Dorian call her Lamb.

It doesn't really fit with Germanic roots... I think the closest there would be Inessa or Nessa.

But Rome did have a Saint Agnes. (Massive TWs there too.)

Ironically while she did get martyred eventually (for refusing a man and her Christianity being judged a cult), attempts to defile her purity failed and the wood at her stake refused to burn.

in ways i like to keep dorian's human life vague because that no longer matters to him. at this point, he's nearly forgotten his own name. people can fantasize about what they think, about what they want. what matters is that dorian sits in his cathedral, sorting through books, wishing he could leave. wishing he could take the muzzle off.

and perhaps he will, one day, but he has not been killed, and i don't think anyone has told him that this was an option.

it's not to say i don't love all of this, because i do! but it is a detail that i will give to the players and the readers to ponder about. what was he before? scary, of course. led the lambs astray, of course. but anything else? does there even need to be anything else?