#maybe sometime I'll do one of those challenges that have you do just a few hundred words. I'm probably going to keep doing longer stuff

[ehlnofay]

the problem with posting any of my newer stuff is that it’s all So Fucking Long. stupid amounts of words. just finished my most recent ‘‘‘‘‘micro’’’’fic three days and almost five thousand words after I sat down to begin it. that’s not micro anymore that’s a whole ass fic. and it’s too much to read on tumblr dot com

[solxamber]

Hello! I saw that you said it was fine to request still, so if it's alright I'll give you my thoughts/promt if it's fine by you.

Also wanted to say i love you're fanfics! Super entertaining and well written so i was wondering if you could write one that's Vil x mermaid! Reader (romantic) the prompt is-

Vil has been slowly falling in love with the reader; not just by her beauty but her personality the two have these little meet ups where she sings/the two talk endlessly and just enjoy eachothers company, but what I'm getting with this,is that Vil would take time to process his feelings but eventually he gets there and confesses. Maybe it could be a friends x lovers?

whatever you want to do with this idea is cool beans, I just really want to see what you come up with!! Alright,that's all much love ♡♡

Vil Schoenheit x Mermaid! Reader

the idea is so big brained!!! I hope you like it <3

Vil has always appreciated beauty. He lives and breathes it—the art of refinement, the craft of elegance. But lately, beauty has taken on a new form for him, and it looks suspiciously like you. He can’t pinpoint exactly when it started, but he knows it’s tied to those secret meetups you two share by the shoreline.

You’re a mermaid, and you make a point to remind him of that every time he mentions something about the "unbearable" human world. You always roll your eyes dramatically, your tail shimmering in the moonlight as you laugh at his over-the-top complaints about fashion disasters, inferior skincare routines, or the latest scandal in the entertainment industry.

"You humans are so fragile," you often tease, resting your chin on your hand as you float lazily in the water. "Honestly, Vil, it’s a wonder you haven’t all crumbled under the weight of your own drama."

He gives you a sharp look every time, but there’s always a trace of a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. "And yet, here you are, meeting up with one of these fragile humans every week."

"I didn’t say you weren’t entertaining," you retort with a sly grin. "It’s like watching a soap opera, except with more skincare tips."

Vil chuckles, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair, which somehow manages to stay flawless even in the salty sea breeze. "You’d be lost without my advice. I’ve seen your seaweed face masks."

You pretend to gasp, putting a hand to your chest. "Seaweed is a perfectly valid skincare ingredient! In fact, it’s far superior to that toxic concoction you call moisturizer."

"Seaweed smells like the bottom of the ocean."

"And you don’t?"

That’s how it always goes—banter, teasing, comfortable silences filled with the soft crashing of waves, and eventually, music. You sing sometimes, when the mood strikes you. It’s never anything planned; it just happens. Vil always listens, captivated, because your voice is something he can't quite describe. It's raw, but pure, untouched by the expectations of the stage or the pressures of fame.

Sometimes he sings back, though he pretends he’s only doing it because you insist. "Come on, Vil. Just a few bars. You know you want to."

"I am a professional," he says, crossing his arms. "I don’t perform on a whim."

But you know how to coax him, and soon enough, he’s harmonizing with your lilting melody, his smooth, controlled voice intertwining with yours in a way that makes the night feel magical.

It’s been months of these little meetings, and Vil has never been quite sure what to make of you. You’re beautiful, of course—stunning, really—but that’s not what has him coming back to the shore every week.

It’s the way you make him feel completely at ease, the way you challenge him without being mean-spirited, the way you listen to him vent about things you couldn’t care less about yet still offer thoughtful responses.

And then there’s that laugh of yours—sharp, like the crack of a wave against the rocks, but warm enough to make him feel lighter every time he hears it.

He’s always valued control—over his image, his career, his emotions—but with you, he’s found himself slipping. He realizes, with some discomfort, that he’s been looking forward to these meetings a little too much. It’s not just the singing or the banter anymore. It’s... you.

That thought bothers him, because Vil Schoenheit does not get "distracted." He doesn’t fall for anyone. At least, not like this.

But here he is, walking down to the beach again, heart beating faster than usual as he anticipates seeing you. Tonight, though, something feels different. Maybe it’s the way the moon is hanging lower than usual, casting everything in a silvery glow, or maybe it’s the fact that Vil can’t deny his feelings anymore.

You’re already waiting for him when he arrives, sitting on a rock with your tail swishing lazily in the water. "Late again, Mr. Superstar?" you call out teasingly.

"I’m fashionably late, thank you," Vil replies, though there’s a softness in his voice. He takes a seat on the sand, smoothing out his coat with practiced precision before looking at you.

"You’re slipping," you say, eyeing him critically. "Usually, you’d have a comeback ready. What’s the matter? One of your beauty products finally backfired?"

Vil snorts softly, shaking his head. "No, though if it did, you’d be the first to hear about it." He looks out at the horizon, his expression thoughtful. "I’ve just been... thinking."

"Uh-oh," you say, folding your arms over your chest. "That sounds dangerous. What about?"

He hesitates for a moment, unsure of how to approach this. Vil has always been calculated, measured in everything he does. Confessing his feelings, though? That’s not something he’s prepared for. He glances at you, and suddenly, the words start spilling out before he can stop them.

"You know, for someone who claims not to care about humans, you certainly seem to enjoy spending time with me."

You raise an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by the shift in tone. "Are you fishing for compliments, Vil? Because I don’t need to stroke your ego any more than it already is."

He chuckles, shaking his head. "No, it’s just... You’re always teasing me about humans, about my world, but you keep coming back. Why?"

You tilt your head, considering his question for a moment before replying. "Because you’re interesting, Vil. You’re not like the others I’ve met. Most humans get caught up in themselves, but you... you’ve got a spark. You’re genuine, even when you’re being all high-and-mighty. And, well, it’s not like I’ve got a lot of options for good conversation under the sea."

Vil’s heart skips a beat at your words, and he finds himself smiling despite the nerves building up inside him. "I see. So I’m just your entertainment, then?"

"Oh, definitely," you say, grinning. "But you’re also... more than that."

Vil blinks, his breath catching slightly. "More?"

You nod, your expression softening. "You’re someone I look forward to seeing. I like being around you, Vil. You make me feel... seen. And I’m not just talking about my looks. It’s like you actually care about me as a person, not just a pretty face."

He swallows, his chest tightening as he listens to your words. This is it. He can’t hold it in any longer. "I do care," he says quietly, his voice trembling ever so slightly. "More than you know."

You look at him, your teasing expression fading as you sense the weight behind his words. "Vil...?"

He takes a deep breath, steeling himself. "I think... I think I’m falling for you."

There. He said it. And now his heart is racing, his palms are sweating, and for the first time in what feels like forever, Vil Schoenheit is unsure of himself. He braces for your reaction, half expecting you to laugh it off or tease him like you always do.

But you don’t. Instead, you blink at him, your mouth opening and closing as you process his confession. "You... what?"

Vil clears his throat, forcing himself to meet your gaze. "I’m in love with you," he repeats, more confidently this time. "I’ve been falling for you for a while now, and I didn’t want to admit it, but... I can’t keep it to myself anymore."

There’s a moment of stunned silence before you break into a wide smile. "Vil, you absolute idiot."

He recoils slightly. "I beg your pardon?"

You laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. "I’ve been waiting for you to say something for months now! I thought I was going to have to spell it out for you."

Vil blinks, taken aback. "You... you knew?"

"I didn’t know know," you admit, "but I had a feeling. You’re not exactly subtle, Vil."

He stares at you, a mixture of relief and embarrassment flooding his system. "Why didn’t you say anything, then?"

"Because I wanted to see how long it would take for you to figure it out yourself," you say with a smirk, leaning forward slightly. "I didn’t think it’d take this long, though."

Vil narrows his eyes, though there’s no malice in his expression. "You’re insufferable."

"And yet, you love me," you tease, reaching out to cup his cheek gently. "What does that say about you?"

He huffs, though his heart is fluttering in his chest at your touch. "That I have terrible taste."

You laugh again, the sound bright and infectious, and before Vil can say anything else, you pull him in for a kiss. It’s soft, gentle, and Vil feels like his entire world is melting away in that moment. The taste of saltwater lingers on your lips, and for the first time in a long time, Vil isn’t worried about appearances or perfection. He’s just... happy.

When you finally pull away, both of you are smiling like fools. "So," you say, your voice teasing, "does this mean we’re a thing now?"

Vil rolls his eyes, though he can’t stop the grin spreading across his face. "I suppose it does."

"Good," you say, leaning in to kiss him again. "Because I’m not letting you back out of this one, Mr. Superstar."

Vil chuckles against your lips, his hand sliding to the back of your neck to pull you even closer. "Oh, trust me," he murmurs, his voice low and smooth, "I have no intention of backing out. But I do expect you to stop wearing those dreadful seaweed masks."

You gasp dramatically, pulling back just far enough to look him in the eye. "Excuse you! Seaweed is nature’s skincare miracle, Vil. Just because it’s not wrapped in fancy packaging doesn’t mean it’s ineffective."

He raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, his lips curling into a playful smirk. "Perhaps, but you’ll have to let me introduce you to something a little more refined. If we’re going to be a couple, I simply can’t allow my significant other to use subpar beauty products."

"Oh, is that so?" you ask, amusement twinkling in your eyes. "I didn’t realize I was dating a beauty tyrant."

"It’s for your own good," he says with mock seriousness, though there’s a warmth behind his gaze that betrays his affection. "Think of it as part of your glow-up. You’ll thank me later."

You can’t help but laugh, your heart swelling with affection for the man in front of you. It’s strange, really—how quickly this has all come together, yet how natural it feels. You never would’ve guessed that your casual banter and late-night talks would lead to this, but now that it’s happening, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Vil reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch gentle but purposeful. "You know," he says softly, his usual sharp tone melting into something softer, "I’ve never met anyone quite like you."

You smile at him, feeling the warmth of his words settle into your chest. "I could say the same about you, Vil. You’re not as scary as people think, you know."

He chuckles, shaking his head slightly. "That’s a well-maintained persona, I’ll have you know. Can’t let people think I’m soft."

"Oh, but you are," you tease, poking him lightly in the chest. "At least with me."

He scoffs lightly, though there’s no real bite behind it. "I’ll deny it if you tell anyone."

You laugh, resting your forehead against his as you savor the closeness between you. For the first time in what feels like forever, you feel completely at peace, as if everything has fallen into place. Vil, with all his elegance, wit, and sharpness, has somehow become the person you’ve come to care about more than you ever thought possible. And now, as he holds you close, you know that you wouldn’t trade this for the world.

"I’m glad it’s you," you whisper, pressing a light kiss to his cheek. "I never thought I’d fall for a perfectionist with an ego the size of the sun, but here we are."

He lets out a soft, genuine laugh, his arms wrapping around you more securely. "I never thought I’d fall for someone who argues with me over skincare, but I suppose life has a sense of humor."

"Looks like we’re both in for a wild ride, then," you say with a grin.

Vil hums in agreement, his hand gently stroking your hair. "As long as it’s with you, I think I can handle it."

You smile, feeling your heart soar at his words. There’s a certain magic to this moment—a kind of fairy tale that feels like it’s been written just for the two of you. And as you sit there, wrapped up in each other’s warmth, you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this is the start of something truly beautiful.

"Well then," you say, pulling back slightly to look him in the eye, "looks like you’re stuck with me, Schoenheit."

"Forever, I hope," he says softly, before pulling you in for another kiss—this one longer, deeper, filled with the promise of something lasting.

And in that moment, with the moon shining overhead and the waves lapping gently against the shore, you know that whatever comes next, you’ll face it together..

Masterlist

[kissmetwicekissmedeadly]

MO'S FANFIC BEAUTYFYING MASTERCLASS!👩‍🏫

So it seems like you guys like how I do my banners and layouts on @xxsycamore ! I wanted to share a few tips about making similar ones, along with some of my observations on their importance! Be warned, some of the screenshots I'll use to illustrate my point will be of my smut fics! This post is intended for the ikemen series community. While the tips could be found useful for other fandoms as well, it's important to note that it's only this fandom that I've taken into account and because of that my observations could be unreliable if you chose to follow my advice outside of the fandom!

The importance

First of all, a good layout is a subjective term. Second, a "good" layout is not guaranteed to boost your fic's popularity. Not all of us are able to put the time and effort into fancy banners and dividers, but the good news is, you don't really need them! You should always strive to do only as much as you can without straining yourself. Here you can see a minimal effort fic layout vs one that took 30~ minutes to put together, both posted around the same time, both having a similar reception when it comes to notes! Keep in mind that a layout is just one of the many factors to take into account for your fic's popularity status, and you shouldn't obsess with it either way.

2. The minimum: Banner + Title

Not everyone checks out every single post on their dash while they scroll! I follow around 1100 people and while not all of them are active, it's easy to miss a post that could as well have been the best thing I'd see that day. Your brain recognizes what a typical fanfiction post looks like - a rectangular picture with a title above/underneath, followed by text. As long as you scroll past a post with a similar construction and you're interested, you might want to scroll back and check it out.

3. Banners

The information that you get from a banner is typically about the character(s) featured in the fic. Using the example above, you'll see that a simple cropped picture of the character gets the job done! (an in-game sprite at that, not a fancy card photo)

If you decide to use a card, you can browse google for a good one of your character(s). I try to select a card that depicts something similar to what's happening in my fic, either the action or the "vibes" (daytime or nighttime, outside or indoors, canon or modern, etc.), but sometimes it's better to choose the one that will look good instead of the one that's more fitting.

Finding cards of good quality is also challenging, and I'd advise you to avoid blurry/low-quality banners even if those would be best fitting.

Stick to the rectangular horizontal format if possible. I like square banners sometimes, but it's better when you can see the whole layout at once!

4. Editing the banners & photo coloring

If you decide you want to go out all, you'll need a photo editing app or a program. I use one called Snow which is mainly for selfies but gets the job done. It has many filters to choose from, but inputting text there could be a hassle sometimes. Another one I use is Pixlr. Yeah, I couldn't let it go ever since the days it was just a website...it's been about 10 years but I still rely on it (now as an app) for some stuff, like cropping down images with very big height to width ratio (like thin strips for dividers). In very rare instances I use my (paid) art program, Clip Studio Paint. I know that many people use Canva for their banners but I can't get used to it, I guess it's not my thing, haha. That's why you should see what works for you. I prefer a certain amount of limitation, like having filters to choose from, simply because I don't want to think too much about it and to be able to spend too much time on it (I'm a perfectionist)...

Maybe you just want to give your picture some nice coloring, nothing too much, just a slight change of tone that it's noticeable but not in a screaming way. There are still some things to avoid, mainly old-looking filters. I'm talking about the ones that were mainstream on Instagram during the last decade, the pinkish sepia one for instance. Ones that have too high exposure value and make the bright parts practically glow are not a good look either, same for the too dark ones. Making the character unrecognizable is also not good, and some filters can do that, especially in the case where they have fair hair and the filter makes it appear as another color. Again, those examples are bad only in my own opinion and could look good in certain circumstances or if it's a desired look!

Here's the collage for the banner used for my fic Nine Nights (MDNI) before the filter (first picture), a variation I did but scrapped (second pic) and the one I went with in the end (third pic). While the bottom pic is in contrast with what I said about making characters unrecognizable, here I rely on the fact that it's enough that it's obvious this will feature all of the Crown members just by looking at the bunch of them. I liked how the colors pop up, almost as if each one gets assigned a theme color (interestingly I didn't pick the cards for that purpose), and it's just a pretty coloring in my opinion as a whole. I achieved this by tweaking the RGB values from the "Curves" tool in Snow.

Another cool thing to do with your banner is adding transparent elements in it, like how I did with this one (see it from the link below, it's not depicted here on the pics). The thing is, this could be very energy-consuming, you'll need an app/program that can do that as not all of them work with transparent images, and in the end, it could be just barely noticeable. But it can be fun from time to time.

5. Titles

A title is the other main element of your fic's layout and it should stand out. If you hate coming up with titles (understandable...) you can just put a "(character) x reader fluff", for instance. If you look at the example in point 1, I simply used the character's name in place of a title! It doesn't have to be a stressful aspect of putting your fic out there. As a side note, you can try centering your title simply by putting some spaces at the front, but leaving it aligned to the right could be a stylistic choice.

6. Colored text

This one is very optional but good if you want to fancy it up. Tumblr already gives you a bunch of colors to pick from and you can make use of them if they fit the style of your fic, but they're very limited. Luckily we can use just any color we want. (This only works on the fonts tumblr supports! The ones you can choose from when you highlight a text) Unfortunately, the way to do this will make you work with the HTML editor which you can access at the top right corner of your post editing screen (from desktop, click the settings, scroll down to Post editor) and things might seem pretty scary if this is your first time looking there. It's not too hard! You need to use a site that takes your desired piece of text, lets you select colors, and then gives you a code that once pasted in the HTML editor will make it colored when switching back to the Rich text editor. Here's the one I use because it also allows me to blend colors. At the bottom right of the page, I put the text in the first box, select the colors, and upon clicking Run it gives me the code in the bottom box. I use colored text for my title, and sometimes for my information tags.

7. Information tags

This is how I refer to the part of your layout dedicated to showing the pairings, genre, content warnings and wordcount of your fic. This is all optional even to add in the first place. I personally don't bother too much with beautifying that part, but a good tip is using some kind of symbol to separate these pieces of information if they're all in the same paragraph (I use big dots), or to place in front of them if they're in different rows (like bullet points). This gives a lot of creative freedom for text art, you should explore it if that's your thing!

8. Fonts & font size

You can experiment with Tumblr's fonts, or you can look for more fonts online - here's a handy site. It's good to find one that is legible enough. 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞. Again, be warned, those fonts that are outside of tumblr's post editor cannot be colored (as far as I'm aware of)

You can spell your title in all caps if you deem that's a good look for your fic.

Play around with bolds and italics instead of making everything a different font.

The "Biggest" font option here on the editor is not the best one to use as it's simply too big. Big title fonts should be avoided if your title doesn't fit in a single row.

Having different font sizes for different things in your layout can be eye-catching! Besides the obvious upscaling of the title, you can also upscale your information tags. Using small text is also nice and prevents your post from getting too long, but this should only be done for the part of the fic that is not the fic itself. Small text could be harsh on the eyes if it's in big quantities.

9. Dividers

Dividers are another crucial part of a fancy layout! They divide different parts of your layout, like the information tags and the fic's body. There are tons of styles to choose from. Some people like to use dividers that spell out something, like a "minors DNI" warning, a "support your creatives" reminder, the name of the character featured in the fic... You can make your own set of dividers for repeated use. I like to use very thin lines which I color differently according to the fic's theme colors. I also find dividers online, mostly here on tumblr, as there are tons of them if you look them up. It's important to use dividers which are marked free to use, or to otherwise credit their creators.

10. Additional tips

Use gifs. Everything that moves is eye-catching. But don't go overboard with it - one or two moving objects on your layout is plenty. They shouldn't be put too close to the fic's body too, as people might find it distracting. Avoid flashing and glitching gifs, or if you use those and you deem it necessary, tag the post with an epilepsy warning. You can make your banners into gifs by putting a moving filter on them, making it into a video, and turning the video into a gif (the site I use for this is called ezgif and it has plenty of other options for working with gifs and videos), and you can also make or find gif dividers.

Banner themes are nice, but they don't always look good. I'm talking about making a series of banners (like for a bunch of fics made for the same creative challenge) look the same, with the same coloring and filters. I used to make all my banners purple to follow my blog's tumblr theme but I realized not everyone looks good in purple...

Try adding a synopsis for your fic! I know, this is worse than coming up with a title, but we love flipping the book over to look at the synopsis before jumping into it. Keep it very short and try beautifying it with symbols or fancy quotation marks.

Use the "intended" font from the tumblr post editor to make your information tags or synopsis stand out and shrink the overall length of the post!

Put the body of your fic under a "read more" (the last option when you hit a new row in the post editor). This is very important, especially if you're writing smut - you wouldn't want to make people scroll through all of that if they're not in the mood for it. Putting your whole fic on the dash doesn't make it more likely for people to stop and read it, or at least that's just how I see it.

Use emojis! Emojis stand out!

Take inspiration from other people. Get out of your bubble and look at how other fandoms do it, but obviously don't steal.

11. Final thoughts

Making this post felt weird to me! I was motivated by my mutuals complimenting my layouts but also because some of them said "they can't do that" and I wanted to show them it's easy. I also wanted to show them it's not that important and that they shouldn't stress over it at all! At the end of the day it's your fic that matters, not how pretty you can make it work. But instead of simplifying it, I ended up with this massive post of 11 parts, and now it looks scarily big. It's not, okay! I went too much into detail at times, and I want to stress once again that it's all optional anyway. I, personally, don't follow all of this advice. I don't go through the 10 steps of constructing my layout every time I'm about to post a fic. I typically post my fics just before going to bed, and 99% of the time I need it to happen ASAP because it's that late in the night. It's a way to beat my perfectionism, really, and I find it to work for me. I also already have these steps tested and memorized so it all happens quickly and mechanically for me. Making the layout is extremely fun for me and this is my sole driving force for putting in the effort. At the same time, I remind myself not to go overboard because it's stupid to focus on it more than on the fic itself. I love ao3 because everything looks equal on there, but I also love tumblr because I can unleash my creativity in one additional way.

In the process of making this post, I started to wonder if it seems like I'm making this out to be way more important and difficult than it really is, and I want to assure you that this is not my intention at all!

My only hope is that this proves to be helpful for whoever feels like they can use some of the information above. If it leads to just 1 additional note to those criminally underrated fics I see, then I'd be beyond happy!

Have fun posting your fics :)

[buggyboba]

✦ October 24th | sex pollen

AN 𓏧

↳ ○ | AN| Hi, hello, we are going to pretend that this isn't three days late. I was FIGHTING for my life with this one, I'm not going to lie. We got there though, I'm not 100% happy with this, but that might be me being real nit picky. The Master is a real ass in this one, it feels a little non-con, since a few things happen, I'll throw it in the TW too, but it's not really, just kinda vibes briefly. I'm only going to do one more, (well two because treat won for trick or treat, so I will be doing a Dhawan!Master x Reader one and a Kate Stewart x Reader one for Halloween, to finish it out. Once again I will keep the rest of the ones I didn't do for Kinktober and maybe release them slowly. This was a big big challenge for me, the whole kinktober thing, and that's on me for thinking a week or so before October that I could certainly do 31 fanfictions, even if they were supposed to be short little smutty drabbles. I have quickly learned, I can't just write short little things...I won't apologize for that though, because that's the roleplayer in me...I was absolutely one of those long-ass novel writing role players. I LIKE WORDS IDK WHAT TO TELL YOU LET ME HAVE MY PROSE AND STUFF! Anyway I once again tried to keep it rather gender-neutral, but it's implied female anatomy, but if you squint maybe not? I tried, I SWEAR I will do Master x male reader sometime. SMUT MDNI

SUMMARY𓏧

↳ ○  how was he supposed to know the flowers on this planet were in bloom this time of year. How was he supposed to know how they would effect your human body? (Spoilers he knew.) 

PAIRING𓏧

↳ ○ Simm!Master x Reader

TW𓏧

↳ ○ mentions of hypnosis, sex pollen, so consensual, but at what cost? sort of vibes. unprotected p in v sex, semi-clothed sex, the master is a right asshole, cumshot. petnames.

WORD COUNT𓏧

↳ ○ 3100

A03 lINK𓏧

↳ ○ x

MASTERLIST LINK𓏧

↳ ○ x

★𓏧 𓏧 𓏧★ 𓏧 𓏧 𓏧★

You were suspicious when he brought you to this planet; he called it Hevides, said it was a nice little flora planet, perfect this time of year. You shoved your hands in your jacket pockets, looking around as he exited the tardis, which aptly was pretending to be a tree. That wasn’t going to cause problems later, you were sure. He explained that there were a few rare plants on Hevides that he wanted to get his hands on; he wouldn’t tell you what for, but you assumed it was for a nefarious plan; it always was. You followed after him; it was a beautiful planet, you would give it that, but you also had a deep, nagging fear that a man-eating plant or something was going to get you, and that would be a terrible fate, just this giant piranha plant from Wish looking thing eating you. You were careful where you stepped; thick vines were littering the forest floor, which definitely didn’t help your imagined scenario of being eaten by a plant while there. 

“Are you sure it’s safe?” you finally asked, but his annoyed scoff told you it was the wrong question to ask. 

“Ye’ of such little faith,” he muttered as he walked past you.

“I mean, do I have to remind you of the fish people?” You started.

“Fish peop—you mean the sea devils? Come now, pet, that’s xenophobic.” He teased you. You stammered and tried to back petal, to which he chuckled and kept walking. “They weren’t fish; they were more like turtles if anything,” he shook his head.

“No, I didn’t mean it in a—I didn’t know they were called that." You stammered out, “And wait, wait, you don’t get to call me that; you are the most—” He cut you off and shook his head.

“Just because I think everyone is beneath me? Because they are, and you silly little apes are no exception, little backward things you are,” he tilted his head watching you. “Now don’t pout, pet; I picked you, didn’t I? As my companion,” he smirked his tone, teasing on the word companion. He disliked the word, but it was the best word to describe you and your relationship. 

"Yeah, moving on; we don’t have time for all that right now; you told me the sea devils were safe, and then they tried to kill us.” You pointed out.

“Miscommunication, and perhaps some old hard feelings.” He waved it off and clapped, making a victorious sound as he spotted what he was looking for. It was a large purple and orange flower; it looked similar to a sunflower if you had to compare it to something; the middle was covered in thick red pollen. He motioned you over, and you shifted, walking a bit closer. You hadn’t noticed how careful he had been stepping around it. When you got close enough, he flicked the back of the flower, making the pollen fly into the air around you. You coughed and sputtered, trying to cover your mouth so more of the bitter pollen didn’t get into your mouth. You looked at him with a look of disbelief as you doubled over coughing harder. 

“Don’t fight it; just breathe normally," he instructed as he observed you. “I just want to see how it affects you,” he said almost nonchalantly. 

“An experiment, right now, with a mystery plant!” You used the sleeve of your jacket trying to breathe. You felt funny, but not in a funny way; more like your body was slowly getting hotter, your blood was on fire, and your skin felt uncomfortable, like your clothing touching it was too much. The feeling was overwhelming quickly. Then the heat pooled, and you felt an ache between your legs. You blinked, trying to determine the feeling and will it away. Your head was hazy. You took a step back, your pupils dilating more; he moved forward, catching you before you almost fell in your attempted retreat. 

His fingers pressed against the side of your neck, on your pulse point, feeling your heart racing, pulsing against his fingers, he hummed. Your hand wrapped around his forearm; you tried to look angry, but your body was on fire, and his cold touch felt good; it would feel better lower. You blinked at your own thought; you felt your mouth water, and he pulled you up carefully. “Talk me through what you are feeling,” he smirked. “I mean, I can see some physical signs, some delightful tells, but I want to know how it feels for you.” He said like he was a scientist, and this was all a very ethical experiment. 

You almost didn’t want to tell him; you felt squirmy. Was that a word you could use? Was that a scientific description? “I’m on fire,” you breathed out. His hand grabbed your throat, letting his thumb brush your jawline before he moved your head side to side to look you over with that cocky grin. You let out a softer sound, “I don’t know, I mean, it’s overwhelming really; I am shaky, and there is this..." You paused, not knowing if you wanted him to know about the ache, but he looked at you with an expectant look. “I just...feel horny,” you muttered out the last word, looking away from him, but he tsked and pushed your jaw with his thumb so you would look back at him. “I just, I need..." You sighed.

“Need what? Go on, tell me... I am all ears.” He grinned at you again; you could tell he had a sort of satisfaction about this reaction. You wanted to stay mad, you really did, but your mind was so hazy now that you couldn’t think about anything but getting rid of this ache. It was nothing like you had ever felt before, and you were worried, scared almost. What was this pollen doing to you? 

“I just want the ache to go away. I just want—” you muttered out, locking eyes with him. His honey-colored eyes took you in. He studied your face, how flushed you looked, and how desperate you sounded. He looked down at you as your hips arched subconsciously against his, and a snider grin took his lips. 

“Such a needy, desperate thing.” He teased, “And why should I help you?” He asked like this wasn’t completely his fault. 

You blinked and looked at him almost in disbelief, “Because you brought me here! Because you made the pollen come off the flower?” You said shortly, his free hand left his pocket and moved to grab right above your hip. “You knew this would happen!” You accused, to which he gave you those puppy dog eyes.

“I didn’t know this exact thing would happen; I mean, I could have hypothesized about the effects on your silly human body, but I wasn’t completely sure, well, until now.” He nodded. “It won’t kill you, so stop worrying so much; just feel a bit.” He grinned, “You are adorable like this...all needy.” He mused a bit; he found this whole thing amusing, and you let out an annoyed strangled sound; you were getting so worked up, and he was just standing there being amused; you could strangle him. 

“Why isn’t it affecting you?” You sighed, trying to focus. You had a lot of willpower, so maybe you could work through this, maybe. 

“Respiratory bypass... held my breath when I flicked it.” He shrugged like it should have been common knowledge to you by now. "Plus, I’m sure it wouldn’t have affected me anyway.” He let your throat go and stepped back. “Come along. There really was something else I needed to get here.” He said and started to walk. You didn’t move; however, he paused when he didn’t hear you following him. He turned to you and raised an eyebrow. “Well?” You stayed still; you didn’t know if you could trust your legs to carry you properly. He rolled his eyes. “Are you playing disobedient now? Should I make you follow me, pet?” He asked, and you knew he was implying he was just hypnotizing you; maybe that would override what you were feeling. 

“No, you don’t have to do that,” you muttered. You took a deep breath and forced your legs to move; even though they shook a bit, your whole body did. You didn’t like this feeling, this sheer feeling of need; the heat was almost unbearable. You wrapped your arms around yourself as you slowly followed him, glaring at the back of his stupid head as he leisurely strolled through the forest looking for what he was really after. You walked for what felt like ever; the effects were getting worse, your body shook more, and you had to stop and lean against a tree to hold yourself up. "Master,” you breathed out. He paused, taking note of your breathy call. He turned around and looked at you, taking in your appearance; it seemed the pollen was in full bloom in you now. He tilted his head, noticing how you were leaning, how you subconsciously clenched your thighs together, and how one hand gripped onto the stomach area of your jacket. You looked weak now, shaky. He inwardly sighed like you were a nuisance before he turned on his heel and walked towards you. 

“You humans are so fragile,” he muttered and moved to pin you against the tree; his hands ran through your hair, forcing you to look at him again. The touch made you breathe out, “You aren’t going to be any good to me if you can’t keep up.” He mock pouted at you, “I suppose I, once again, have to take care of you.” He gave an exaggerated sigh, moving to let his hand trail down your stomach, stopping at the button of your pants. He looked at you for a moment, taking note of how your eyes were hazy, how you had the look of pure need, and how he could smell how aroused you were just by the air around you. That pollen made short work of you, and it amused him more than it should have. It melted your reservations, so much so that you were shifting a bit, trying to get him to undo your pants; it was like your mind couldn’t think of anything but getting off. “Oh and out here in the open, the great outdoors, how scandalous of you, bunny.” He mocked a bit. You felt your cheeks heat up more. He was right; you would have never done anything like this in public, not that this was public; this was in the middle of an alien forest; you hadn’t seen signs of civilization or anything of that sort, though that didn’t mean there wasn’t. 

You choked out a whine; you didn’t want to wait anymore, yet here he was being his normal mocking, snarky self, taking his time because he wanted to annoy you; that’s what it had to be. He finally pulled the button free, and with a delicate movement, he unzipped your pants, letting them fall past your knees and pool around your feet, but he didn’t touch you yet; he let his hand slip under your jacket, pushing it and your shirt up as he stepped closer, his mouth pressing against your neck, his hands groped at your chest, kneading the flesh there, listening to the lovely needy sounds that were spilling from your parted lips. He pressed against you more, keeping you snuggly pressed against the tree, the bark scraping your back, but the pain from it didn’t translate; it almost felt good. Your hand gripped and your nails scraped at the bark; your other hand grabbed his arm, gripping the fabric of his black jacket. Each kiss and nip caused you to whine and groan out; it felt so good; everything felt so enhanced; someone could be making a killing using this as one of those ‘enhancer’ pills, a funny thought that was quickly pushed from your head as his hips rolled against yours, grinding against you. He let a soft growl escape his throat as he sucked a dark mark into your skin before his hands slid down and grabbed your legs, easing them up to sit against his hips. You wrapped your legs around him, your body so hot, your blood felt like it was boiling, you whined out, you felt so damn needy, you didn’t like it, your senses were on overdrive. 

"Oh, what fun little sounds you make,” he muttered against your throat and pressed an open-mouth kiss against it before letting his teeth graze again. All these little touches and nips were driving you mad.

“Master! Please!” You choked out, pressing against him more, well, as much as you could in this position. As you pathetically rutted against him, he arched his hips up some, and you could feel his arousal, the bulge in his pants growing. He moved one hand down to undo his belt, and you gave a soft, needy sound. 

“Down pet,” he smirked, kissing your neck again as he pulled his belt some and then undid his pants. “So needy, I bet you are dying to get fucked.” He growled in your ear. The growl sent a rippling shiver down your spine; you had never needed something more than in this moment. “I’ll admit, this was a very insightful experiment.” He said pulling himself free from his boxers, slowly stroking his cock, teasing against you with the tip, “like a dam broke.” He teased you; you hated that, but you couldn’t help it; the pollen thrummed through you still. You were about to say something, anything to get him to just help you, but he pressed the tip into your dripping entrance. Which caused a breathy sound to escape. He slowly sank in, pulling you against him, One hand moved to cup against your ass, and the other was held against the tree by the side of your head as he started a deliciously slow rhythm. It was clear he was milking this to see you so desperate that you would do anything. It made perfect sense to you; with who he was, you knew he was going to make you beg, even though this was all his fault. Acting like it was an inconvenience, and he was so benevolent to help you, to fuck you. 

Your hips rolled against him, trying to get him to stop being so teasingly; his mouth found your neck again, sucking against your pulse point; he could feel how hard your heart was pounding, and you panted out. A deep thrust pulled a long groan from your throat, which made him smirk against your neck. You clenched against him, a diabolically delightful feeling for both of you, which made him grunt against you, biting your neck. He got the message and moved, pressing you harder against the tree, picking up his pace to something rougher, something faster; he wasn’t being playfully teasing anymore. 

“I don’t think you really mean it; maybe I should stop and let you think about it some.” He pulled his hips back, but you tightened your grip around his waist; there was no way in hell you were going to let him stop. 

Your nails scratched into the treebark behind you, the hand against his arm tightened more, your breath ragged as you groaned and moaned out, the feeling intense, the pleasure making you dizzy thanks to your already hazy mind from the pollen, you felt your muscles tighten and a pooling in your stomach, from your tensing and how your core pulsated around him, he knew you were close. He slowed suddenly, causing you to make a pathetic sound. “You can cum when I say you can,” he nipped below your ear. You couldn’t even think; your mind was swirling. How could he be so cruel and control this right now when your body needed this? “Oh, you want it so badly; listen to you, whining,” he smirked and made a mock whine in your ear. “You know what to ask for.” He breathed out and rolled his hips slowly, pulling almost all the way out, before slowly pushing back in.

You weren’t even sure you could form proper words right now, and he wanted you to feed into his control; he wanted you to beg for him to finish you. There was another low whined sound that he pulled from your throat. You thought about not playing his game, but he would stop, and you certainly didn’t want that. “Please, please let me cum, please, I need to,” you begged out, in the best tone you could manage, even arching and writhing against him, making sure to lock eyes with him. He studied you and shook his head with that cocky grin.

“Master please!” You slid your hand up from his arm to the back of his neck, keeping him close. “I’m sorry! Please! Please, I need you. I’m sorry, please! Please let me cum.” You breathed out in an almost panicked breath; this seemed to please him because he returned to the rhythm that he had been at before. “Please!” You doubled down. The stream of begging words and praises fell from your lips as you clung to him. You choked out a loud screamed Master, as you felt your body snap, the pleasure rushing your blood. The feeling of need was there but not as strong as it had been. He hissed out as your walls clenched against him and flexed milking against his cock. There was a moment he considered marking you as his in the most primal way, but he reluctantly pulled from your divine heat, rutting against you, holding the base of his cock as he groaned out, painting your stomach with strands of hot cum; it splattered against your bare stomach and the bottom of your jacket. There would be time for anger about that later. After a few long silent moments, he let you down to lean against the tree he had just fucked you against as he fixed his pants and redid his belt, making a face as he looked over your appearance. “Messy,” he said, like he once again didn’t cause the problem. 

You took deep breaths trying to come down, you slowly fixed yourself, and your gaze flinted up to him. You could feel the prickle of the pollen still, but it certainly wasn’t as bad as it had been. “Do you think you can focus and keep up now? Tell you what, darling, we finish this up, and maybe if you are good and keep up, we can have some more fun when we get back to the tardis; dunno how long the pollen is going to control your silly little human mind, but I would love to study the effects more closely.” He smirked, and you nodded weakly, looking down at the mess he had made of you. It was going to be a long adventure, that was for sure. 

★𓏧 𓏧 𓏧★ 𓏧 𓏧 𓏧★

Taglist𓏧 ↳ ○ @bees-fart-too , @bakusquadobsessed , @anastasa-mslfedit , @cabinedepapel , @asteria237 , @suckerforcate , @bingewatchingmylifegoby , @toastvogel , @starbucks-06 If you want to be added to the rest here is the l x

[a-spes]

| UNTIL ONE OF US DIE — Drabble (958 words).

| Summary — you promised to marry her but you didn't.

| Tags & warnings — Part of my "A drabble a day in june" challenge. — Yelena Belova x Reader, childhood friends (lovers?), death (R), angst without comfort, bittersweet, mentions of the redroom.

| REQUEST GUIDELINES — ✧ — MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING

Everyone has always lied to her but it was fine, she got used to it. She smiles, pretending she doesn't see right through their games, doing whatever they are expecting her to, even if she knows that the only reward she'll get for it is a bitter disappointment. She is born to serve, and that's what she does the best. They give her a mission, she completes it, and then they are happy enough to leave her alone for a few days — Weeks, when she is lucky.

That's how the world works for her, it always did, but some truth are more difficult to accept. That her family never existed, that she has been ripped of a few years of her life, that her sister died, but also that you didn't keep your promise.

You were just kids but it still counted, didn't it?

It was only a few words that you whispered to each other when you were no older than ten years, something that happened in the secrecy of the dormitory. You both knew it was a dangerous game because no one was allowed to dream but you didn't care. As far as she can remember, you've never cared about anything.

"We can do it," you said, trying the blonde to break the rules with you, but she was too stubborn for that. She admired your recklessness as much as she hated it, knowning you could get in trouble for that. "We just have to make sure that they don't catch us. What they don't know can't hurt, right?"

Except it does, because they always knew. Until recently, she hadn't be able to understand why they kept you around all these years. You were an average widow wrapped in a sick layer of trouble, closer to the girls who received a bullet in their head than to those who held the gun.

You were borned in a place where light doesn't exist, and yet you had the brightest smile. You had no memories of your family. They ripped you from them before you could learn the sound of their voices but that never stopped you from dreaming. You spent your time imagining a life you've never — and will never — know, and it contaminated the others. Even she has sometimes surprised herself dreaming about what her life would be outside these walls.

"One day, I will marry you," you've told her back then, and she didn't believe you until you swore on every you had. Even if it wasn't a lot, it meant everything for the blonde.

It was more than a childish promise, it was the hope of a brighter future, and she held on it. Every time, even now, she sooth herself asleep by thinking about what your life together could be like. You would've the biggest house that can exist, and it would be far from everything, just the two of you, and maybe a dog or a cat. You would both love that peaceful and quiet place. It would be your little secret, a space just for the two of you that no one would know about.

"I'll find you. They can't separate us forever," she told you the day you were moved to a different unit with a few other girls. It was a week before the graduation, and she was scared that you didn't passed. That day, they took away the light of the group, and things has never been the same anymore. Maybe that's why they kept you for so long, to instil hope in the hearts of the other girls, only to rip it from them later. To break them into obedience.

The blonde kept her promise. She's been looking for you since she left that place. You were the last piece needed for the new life she wanted to start, and the most important one. It's been years she hasn't see you, what if she can't reconignise your face? What if you don't even remember her? All these questions were swirling in her head as she was waiting in her car, parked in the other side of the street. It was never easy to track a widow, especially when they seem to have done everything to make you disappear form the files.

After a few months, she eventually got a lead. She found a file about a mission you've been working on a few years ago but, most importantly, she found the widow that was sent in with you, the one she was waiting for in front of her building.

"Where is she?" she asked, showing a picture of you to the woman. The latter frown but when she eventually recognize the young face she was being shown as yours. However, all she gives to the blonde is a sad smile. She didn't need more to understand what those desolate eyes meant.

Yet, she didn't believed until she was shown the place of your grave. She wasn't even sure if you were there, they probably left your body were it died or maybe they burned it. She doesn't know, and she is not sure she wants to. That day, she left the cimetery without the ring she has bought for you when she got out, tossing it in the bushes.

As she walked away, she could still hear your voice and the promise you made that day. The one you've never — and will never — kept. You lied, and you breaking her trust was the hardest thing she's ever had to accept in her life.

| REQUEST GUIDELINES — ✧ — MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING

| Tag list - @m0nsterqzzz

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

@steddieangstyaugust Day 18 - Sobbing Sunday: Right Person, Wrong Time

i’m challenging myself to keep all these at either 127 or 1,270 words each, see day one for more of an explanation!

Hi. Dustin gave us all your address way back when you first got back to the States. Hope you at least had a say in that. I’ve heard all about your adventures over the last few years, seen you in the checkout aisles too.. Fame looks good on you I never thought I’d ever reach out, but here we are. And it’s for selfish reasons, too. I wanted to apologize first, I shouldn’t have said all those things to you. You didn’t deserve it. I was hurt, I was confused, I was in love didn’t want things to change…. You’ve always deserved more than that. Maybe we could try again sometime, if you’d ever forgive me. I still see us growing old together, do you? Steve 555-1812

the stamp, the circular usps location stamp, and the barcode are all added onto a blank postcard from 1996 (or later) from three different postcards i found for sale on ebay

the blank postcard back i used (also found on ebay) had the back side photocopied instead of photographed so i had to make the stamp i cut in also in B&W

can you believe i found a usps stamp that actually says Chicago?? me either lmao i just copied over a 6 from the 606 to make it seem like it'd been 10 years.

the house eddie "lives in" is a brownstone for sale on Zillow rn for $3.3 million and i liked that it had such a NY sounding address; like, ofc there's a Manhattan Ave and ofc famous eddie lives there 😅

i was going to make this worse by adding a return to sender stamp but i'll leave it up to you if eddie actually gets this/calls steve or just ignores it >:)

[anticmiscellaney]

I absolutely adore your work! What's your process been like for writing NewOldRare and developing Neil and Louis? Your art and character writing feel so genuine and realistic to me, so I'm really curious how you go about it!

Thank you! I've always been obsessed with character-driven stories and interaction, so I guess this is the result of years of practice and observation, and dismantling stories that do and don't work to see why.

Unfortunately, there isn't a clear way to explain it. It's one of those "you know when you get it right" things, requiring an eye developed over a long time. I will redraw things if I don't feel like I've captured the nuance I wanted to, and a few months later I'll look at it and see where I could have done better. Same with writing. I'm obsessed with pacing and page design, I had a moment of "that's how I think about it too" when Will Eisner described comic panels like music.

The technical approach is I make notes about stories I want to write, then I expand that into outlines, then scripts, then thumbnails, then I draw the comics and colour them and finalise the dialogue. At every stage I'm asking myself if it feels right, if I'm getting across what I want to. That's not to say there aren't surprises and things don't develop organically, but every stage is an attempt to solve as many problems as I can before the next stage. My thumbnails are quite detailed because it makes pencils easier, and I spend a while on them.

I have total aphantasia so I am operating off feeling rather than any mental images. I have no idea how it works and no idea why I pursue this when I'm missing what many visual artists describe as a crucial component. I just do it and I have better things to do (art) than wonder about something I can't change. I don't think it's made me a better or worse artist, though I think it has given me different ways of approaching/developing things. But also, literally everything about you makes your work different to everyone else's work.

You need to care. If your character is into music, listen to that music. If they have an old car that keeps breaking down, read up on common problems for that model. If they work as a film projectionist, watch a training film about using the machine. The characters care about things, have things in their lives that matter, have skills and interests and challenges. If I don't care enough to understand them, why should anyone reading it care, and also why am I writing it if I don't care?

So I do, and in caring I understand them better. This helps me develop characters/story but it also gives me so much more to write/draw. Understanding how things work and how they are done from a physical standpoint makes writing/drawing them easier too. The more you put into your head, the more you can get out later. I'll do way less for a 12 page short than for a 300 page graphic novel, obviously. Pick your battles, a little can go a long way.

They tell artists to collect visual references - solid advice - but you should collect substance too. If you pay attention, you will hear and see things you could never in a million years make up.

I find online socialising difficult, so I go out regularly and talk to people, or just hang around and observe. Chatting with strangers mostly involves listening to them. No one in gay spaces is interested in flirting with me (I'm rather homely and queer men assume I'm straight) but I think an audience is just as appealing sometimes, and maybe even harder to find. You'd be amazed what people will tell you if you're genuinely interested and listening. I once spent forty minutes at a sci-fi con talking to a guy who'd recently gotten into fisting. While I have zero personal desire to partake in that activity (and he had no interest in being fisted by me), I'm engaged, I'm invested, I'm asking questions, spare no detail.

I collect behavior and movement and the ways people interact too. Reading stories on reddit or whatever is one thing, but the words might not be as interesting as the way they're standing, the way their hands move, the way they respond. A guy in a bar once literally humped my leg like a dog because he felt I wasn't paying enough attention to him. I would never think of that as a response to that situation, but he did, and he followed through. Fortunately my friend had just tried to drunkenly sit down and missed the chair, otherwise I would never hear the end of it.

I see the leghumper around sometimes, he's got a boyfriend and avoids making eye contact with me, thank god.

[ragnarokhound]

Trick or treat!! 🎃🍫🍬🍭

Happy Halloween! Spooky season naturally got me thinking about ghosts... which got me thinking about ghost-type pokemon... :^)

When Tim got into this line of work, he'd said to himself it would only be temporary. Something to do while he was figuring it all out. Dropping out of your gym challenge is supposed to be temporary, but sometimes you get so distracted fixing an infamous glitch in the Burnside PC branch that you're scouted at seventeen. What was he supposed to do? Turn down the opportunity of a lifetime just to drag his Alakazam into more battles it hates? He knows he could have gone further, but Tim isn't the most motivational trainer on a good day. It would have been miserable for everyone involved. These days, Alakazam prefers meditating in an easy chair. Which works out, because these days Tim is practically chained to his office desk chair. He still doesn't know why he can't work from home (or from anywhere) because his work is digital, but apparently making yourself irreplaceable is a double edged sword; you must also be available for people to find you so they can talk to you. Tim has had so many conversations that could have been emails. (Babs makes fun of him for this constantly.) Over a decade after the fact, Tim still wonders what his life would be like if he'd pushed through. If he'd said thanks, but no thanks, and gone for his last few badges. Instead, the closest he gets to training these days is the Sinistea he picked up on a fanciful whim, thinking he could make time for it. He's watched his friends' advancing careers from the other end of a television screen, catching Kon's gym battles between code launches and admin meetings. Sometimes he'll see Jason. Not that he's looking for Jason specifically. It's purely professional interest. Crime Alley's gym challenge used to be notorious. Always cast as the villain with a rep for fronting most of the gang activity in the region, it only started to turn around after Jason took over. He'd scowl if you suggest it, but Jason's work with ghost-type pokemon is unparalleled. His work in general is unparalleled. Better programs, better outreach. Tim sees the numbers. Tim's the one who crunches, analyzes, and predicts the numbers. He knows that ghost-, dark-, and poison-type catch and retention rates have spiked in the last five years. And those numbers correlate suspiciously to the bump in trainers completing their gym challenge, trainers whose town of origin is-- wanna take a guess? So, yeah. Sometimes Tim will see Jason on the news, or catch highlight footage of his latest E4 sub-in. His Zoroark is really something else. It is purely professional. Tim was a trainer too, once upon a time. He can appreciate skill and talent in action, and he can maybe wish that he had the time to see it in person more often without it being a huge deal. It doesn't have to be a whole thing. This is what he tells himself on one of his rare days off, minding his own business at a public training ground at the park-- when who does he see but Jason fucking Todd. In the flesh. He can be casual about this. Really, he can. He knows when Jason spots him, because Tim is staring like a moron, and he watches Jason's expression morph from straight-faced, public disinterest to smirking recognition to-- Something he doesn't catch, because that's when Sinistea gets fed up with being ignored, and blasts him in the face with scalding hot water. Under his own loud, pained cursing and Sinistea's whistled scolding, he thinks he hears Jason laugh at him in surprise. Tim's face is hot and red, and he knows it's only mostly to blame on his half-trained ghost pokemon. Oh god, why is Jason even here? He's the only person on this whole fucking continent who might feasibly be busier than Tim. Why is this happening to him? He should have stayed at the office.

(For the trick or treat ask game! Send me a trick or treat ask and I'll share jaytim WIP snippets, or new 3-sentence -paragraph fics, etc :^) through the 31st!)

[pensat-i-fet]

Fashion challenge (Rúben Dias x reader)

**Hello! I recently got a request to do an imagine kind of roasting Rúben's clothes and his recent change in style. And it was one of those times when I started to write with an idea in mind and then the story went in different directions I didn't expect but I'm happy it did. I think it turned out really cute and fun so hopefully you enjoy reading it too ❤️**

Word count: 1694

Masterlist

Wattpad

[Rúben]: are you home?

[You]: yes, only here for my lunch break though. Why?

[Rúben]: I'm getting some parcels delivered in 15 minutes.

[You]: I'll be here when it arrives. Don't worry 😉

[Rúben]: you're the best ❤️ see you later! Love you!

Parcels delivered now? He usually got them sent to the training centre because there was always someone there but you didn't mind opening the door to the delivery person. Even if he arrived right when you were in the middle of eating.

Chewing as fast as you could, you walked to the door to find a man surrounded by boxes and bags.

"That's…a lot".

"Tell me about it", he laughed.

"Do I need to sign something?"

"No. I can help you get everything inside the apartment".

"Don't worry. I'm fine. Let me get you a tip. You've earned it".

The man left and you started to take everything inside. A few of the boxes had brand names you recognised but most had names that meant nothing to you. This must be the stylist's doing.

Saying you weren't a fan of Rúben's stylist would be an understatement. How he managed to get the worst clothes from every brand was a mystery to you. And always in the wrong size.

But there was no time to worry about that because you had to go back to work after quickly finishing your lunch and letting Rúben know his clothes had arrived.

                                       **

Rúben was always the first one back home after training. The two hours he had to wait for you to come back sometimes felt eternal and today was one of those days. He was excited to try all his new clothes out and show you how they looked, so you could help him choose what to keep and what to send back.

So because he was bored, he started to open the boxes and bags and he placed the clothes on the bed. Those trousers were supposed to go with…right, that T-shirt and the jacket. And the tracksuit with the crosses with the new trainers. Fun!

He was trying one of the outfits on when he heard the door open and close and got out of the room to meet you.

"Is there a clown convention in town?", you asked when you saw him.

"What?"

He looked confused while walking towards you to give you a kiss. The closer he got, the more shocked you were by what he was wearing.

"What are you wearing?"

"Some of my new clothes. Do you like them?"

Don't be mean, don't be mean. "Not really?"

"Why? I thought this looked good".

"The colours clash. The sizes…what is it with this stylist of yours and buying clothes that could fit you and me in them because of how big they are? And I'm sure it has some sort of print on the back too, right?"

He started to walk towards the room backwards, confirming your suspicions. You shook your head, chuckling.

When you got to the room, you saw him taking the clothes off. The room was an absolute mess.

"You wanted honesty, remember".

"I know. I just forget how brutal your honesty can be", he said, laughing.

"That outfit you're wearing now is great".

"Really? Is it because I'm just wearing my underwear?"

"Maybe…you could do an underwear fashion show for me”.

“Can I do one with all these clothes? Please. You have to like something out of all these boxes”.

But you didn’t like anything out of all the boxes. Not even the pieces from the brands you bought clothes from. But felt kind of bad for Rúben. He actually seemed to enjoy some of the clothes that had been picked for him.

“That wasn’t too bad”, you said, pointing to a fairly simple pair of trousers and a matching shirt.

“Maybe I can wear it to go out for dinner and you can take some photos that I can post”.

"Sounds like a plan. You can also take photos of my outfit".

"And we can see who gets more likes on Instagram".

"That's not fair, Rúben. Because you have a lot more followers".

"Yeah", he said, picking you up and pecking your lips before putting you down again. "But you are a lot hotter so that's an advantage for you".

You chuckled, picking up your bag and getting ready to go.

Once at the restaurant, you took some cute photos of each other but it wasn't until you were done eating that you started your challenge.

"That's the best one for you, post it".

"Wait", said Rúben, "how about we do a poll on my stories?"

"Also not fair. Your fans will pick you always because they think everything you do is perfect", you said, rolling your eyes.

"Well, someone has to feed my ego after your roasting".

"Just trying to keep you humble, my love".

"But let's make it more fun", suggested Rúben. "The loser has to do a challenge or something".

"Oh, easy. If I win, I'll take you shopping and I'll pick all the clothes".

"And if I win…you have to wear the clothes from my last shopping spree for a week".

Rúben couldn't help but laugh at your face. "I actually might dump you, you know?"

"You won't. You'll look hot no matter what you wear".

He sat on the sofa, patting his legs so you would sit on his lap and then together you picked the best two photos and made the post with the poll. You were sure he would win. Obviously, it was his account followed by his fans. But…it became a bigger event.

A few of your friends reposted the story on their accounts, choosing sides. You spent a few hours checking who sided with who and laughing at their comments. And when you woke up the next day, some City accounts had posted about the little poll on Twitter so the amount of total votes was way bigger than you expected in the first place.

"Ok, it's over. Let's see the results".

You and Rúben opened the app with the same expectation of a reality show fan about to see who won Big Brother.

"Oh my God!", you screamed and started to run around the room.

It was 35% for Ruben and 65% for you.

"That's not fair!"

"The people have spoken, Rúben. The power of democracy is beautiful. Embrace it. Appreciate it".

"If you say so…".

"We're going to have so much fun on our shopping trip".

                                       **

The day you finally were both off work, you decided to treat yourself from morning to night. It was rare for you to not have breakfast at home, but Rúben told you about a great place to have brunch so you made your way there before the shopping began.

"You're eating the same breakfast you always eat".

"It's what I like".

"You're so adventurous, Rúben", you laughed. "It's hard to believe you let a wannabe stylist dress you".

He just shrugged and you took a piece of bacon from your plate and put it on his omelette.

"It's protein. Good for your muscles".

After picking up a post-brunch smoothie, you made your way to the shopping centre.

"I have a list".

Rúben looked at you pulling out a literal list from your bag.

"You're taking this more seriously than your job".

"Because it involves you. And you're the most important person to me", you said dramatically, earning an eye roll from Rúben. "Burberry first".

"Yes, ma'am".

Having browsed all the websites too many times, you knew exactly what you were looking for.

"This set is perfect for the summer holidays".

Rúben picked up the clothes you were showing him. It was a set of shorts and a jacket with a polo collar. Of course, you loved polos. But he did like it. And the shade of orange would compliment his skin tone really well.

"It's nice".

"Nice? Go try it on and you'll see it's more than nice".

When he got out, you were smiling from ear to ear. He looked so good.

"That looks really good on you, sir. Great choice", said one of the ladies who worked at the store.

"It does, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, I think we'll take it", conceded Rúben, who actually loved the way the clothes looked on him. "I already have some outfits for the summer but it's nice to have more options".

"Yes…or we could burn the others and just keep what I'll buy for you today".

Rúben glared at you and the salesperson stared at you both confused.

"Inside joke", you said.

From Burberry, you moved to Etro. He wanted fun patterns on his shirts? Cool, he could get fun patterns that were actually nice to look at.

"Hear me out…let's get a couple of polos at Prada".

"I don't love polos".

"But I could wear them too", you said, pouting. "How adorable! The couple that wears Prada together…".

"Let's get one!"

"I love you! I love you! I love you!"

"Unless I wear Chrome Hearts".

"So don't wear it again", you winked, taking his hand and leading him to the Prada store.

By the end of the shopping trip, you were thankful for Rúben's muscles. Who knew bags full of clothes could be so heavy? But you bought a lot so maybe that was why.

"You'll be happy when you hear about this".

"I like being happy. But why am I going to be happy today?", you asked him when he got to the kitchen while you finished dinner.

"My post from this morning is underperforming".

"What did you post? I'm having a phone detox day".

"A bunch of photos with outfits from last week".

You bit your lip, but he saw the smile you were trying to hide.

"How about we do another challenge?"

"Go on…".

"You post the clothes I bought for you today and if it doesn't get as many likes as the post from today, I won't roast your style for two whole weeks".

That got his attention. "And if it gets more likes?"

"You do the world a favour and fire your stylist".

[jovialmoonprincess]

AU: Journey to Redemption (Part 6)

In Silence, We Crumble

Coriolanus Snow x Fem!reader 

First Part. / The Winter Ball / Champagne Problems / Frost and Thorns / The Storm Within / In Silence, We Crumble

Summary: Y/N, a young idealist in Panem, dreams of making a difference in a post-war society. As the winner of the prestigious Plinth Prize is about to be announced, a mysterious woman unveils a grim fate for Coriolanus Snow, Y/N's nemesis. Offered a chance to alter destiny, Y/N must navigate her conflicting emotions and intervene in pivotal moments to prevent Snow's descent into darkness. The story unfolds against the backdrop of complex relationships, past connections, and the challenges of a changing world, as Y/N grapples with the responsibility of shaping an unexpected destiny and challenging the very fabric of fate.

Warning(s): ANGST IM WARNING YOU ANGST

A/N: I'm on Wattpad now too, click here to read and vote there: WATTPAD

______________________________

Y/N was in the Snows' penthouse living room, acting as if she hadn't shared the best kiss of her life with her friend's cousin a week ago. It was already late when Tigris answered the door and faced a worried Mrs. Plinth. Coriolanus would arrive half an hour later, questioning the situation. His gaze quickly passed over Y/N, and a nod of the head was the most interaction between them that night.

The woman pleaded for Coryo to help rescue Sejanus, even though the boy hated the idea. There was a phone call, and the boy and Mrs. Plinth left hastily. Y/N followed Tigris to her room.

"It's late; I can't let you go alone," Tigris said anxiously, probably because Coryo had just left for the arena again.

"Okay, I'll stay here with you," Y/N replied. It wasn't the first time she had slept at her friend's house, so it didn't take much to convince her mother. Whether she liked it or not, it would be good to have company that night. Y/N had stopped worrying about Coryo's death before the Games. She was more concerned about those around him and what he might do. Every day, she hoped some situation would help the boy reflect on the future.

"You know, when I took care of Coryo, I never imagined he would turn out like this," Tigris said while painting her toenails.

"Authoritarian? Conceited? Arrogant?" Y/N thought.

"Like what?" Y/N asked, saving the insults for when she saw Coryo in person.

"He sometimes looks a lot like his father. And that's not a compliment."

"Maybe we all have something from our parents, right?"

"I wish he were a bit more like his mother."

"What was she like?" Y/N asked.

"She was beautiful, intelligent, kind, sweet... She looked like a princess," Tigris said, smiling nostalgically. "Maybe Lucy Gray could help bring out that part of him, huh?"

"Did I miss something?" Y/N was confused.

"Oh, the whole Capitol is talking about them, as if they were a couple's goal."

"Couple's goal?" Y/N couldn't help but give a sincere laugh. "As if she didn't have bigger things to worry about."

"Coryo said they kissed a few days ago."

THE KISS. THE VISION'S KISS. She saw the two kissing through a cell. If she knew it was going to happen, why did it make her so uncomfortable? Moreover, another vision had been confirmed. Wasn't she doing anything useful to change his fate?

"And what did he say about it?"

"He said it was good, it must have been his first kiss. If not the first, the one that makes the heart beat faster, you know?" Good? That bastard...

"I know," Y/N said without thinking.

"DO YOU KNOW? Have you ever kissed someone like that?" Tigris was excited.

"Oh no, I read a lot of romances..."

"I see... Y/N, you have a lot of secrets, and I will uncover them." Y/N threw a pillow at her friend, who quickly caught it.

The girls quickly fell asleep after gossiping about life in the Capitol. Tigris was very worried; she didn't want to sleep at all, but Y/N managed to convince her after a lot of effort. The two chatted quietly until eventually, one of them stopped responding. But a noise during the night would wake Y/N up.

She looked at the clock beside the bed; it was 02:15 AM. She looked at Tigris sleeping peacefully on the left side of the bed, which, by the way, was quite large. Y/N got up quietly not to disturb her friend. She arrived in the kitchen and didn't notice anything different. She decided to heat up the tea that Tigris had made earlier for Sejanus's mother.

She poured it slowly into the cup when she noticed a silhouette in the living room. She put her hand over her lips to avoid screaming too loud.

"Coryo! You scared me." she said quietly to a battered Coryo in front of her. He was wearing a coat that covered the clothes he had left with. "What happened to you?"

"Nothing. Sejanus is fine. I saved the day; I'm going to sleep," he replied as he moved away slowly.

"Oh no, I'm going to make tea, and you're going to tell me what happened." Coryo had a zero-friendly expression. But Y/N guided the boy to the living room sofa, as if she didn't care about his anger.

In a minute, she reappeared with a teacup and some cookies that Mrs. Plinth had brought. She sat next to him on the couch.

"Eat, they're very good. They taste like Christmas." The boy seemed too beaten down to resist.

"I killed a tribute."

Y/N didn't know what to say; her mind couldn't formulate any sentences.

"I'm sorry."

"I didn't have a choice."

"I know, and it wasn't your fault. The Capitol, Dr. Gaul, they are the real culprits for all this. You're just a pawn on their chessboard." She wanted to ask about Sejanus, but she didn't want to start another fight over it.

"What was it like entering the arena?"

"Sejanus is an idiot. With that damn tradition of breadcrumbs. Pathetic. If anyone needs proof of the backwardness of the districts, this is a good one. Primitive people with primitive customs. How much bread has been wasted on that nonsense? Oh, no, he died of hunger! Bring bread! This 'friendship' with Sejanus is going to cause me a lot of problems." Coryo spoke lowly, mocking the pain Sejanus felt for Marcus. And it was at that moment that Y/N saw in Coriolanus what Tigris had mentioned earlier. The air of superiority, the resentment. Y/N felt a lump in her throat and involuntarily moved away from the boy. Something he didn't fail to notice.

Y/N remained silent, she had nothing to say. In fact, her desire was to go back to her room and cry until she fell asleep.

The atmosphere in the room became tense, impregnated by Coriolanus's revelation about the tribute he had eliminated and his cynicism about the districts. Y/N, although initially speechless, felt a mixture of anger and hurt growing inside her. The silence was broken when she finally spoke, her voice loaded with restrained emotion.

"Do you really think all the districts are like that? Primitive and backward? That people deserve to die for a tradition, like leaving breadcrumbs on the ground?" Y/N gave Coriolanus a penetrating look, her own district origin pulsating in her expression.

Coryo stared at her for a moment, as if assessing her reaction. "I'm just telling the truth. There is no progress in the districts, just outdated customs that lead nowhere."

His response ignited a flame of indignation in Y/N. "And what makes you think you're better? That your vision of progress is the only correct one? Do you think all districts are made up of pathetic and hungry people?"

Coriolanus retorted with a disdainful look. "Of course, they're not all the same, but it's undeniable that there is a general delay. I'm just being realistic."

His answer was like an open wound to Y/N, who felt the words echoing in her mind. She knew she couldn't change the Capitol's perception, but hearing it from someone she considered close was like a punch in the stomach.

"So, do you also think I'm pathetic?" she asked, her voice trembling but firm.

Coriolanus hesitated for a moment, looking into Y/N's eyes. "It's not the same. You're different."

"Different? How? Because I also have a district origin" Y/N felt a mix of sadness and frustration.

"It's not that..." Coryo began, but Y/N interrupted him.

"You know I'm not different. In the eyes of the Capitol, I'm also an insignificant girl from any district. Don't be hypocritical."

He sighed, seeming to rethink his words. "Look, that's not what I meant."

"But that's what you said." Y/N's disappointment was palpable.

"You don't understand. It's different with you."

“No, it’s not,” Y/N insisted, distancing herself further from him. "You're just in denial because you still see me as a girl from the capital. Because I don't feel hungry anymore? Because my father built an empire during the war? Or because you just like me, and you lie to yourself."

The room fell silent for a moment, only the echo of the words spoken hanging in the air. Coriolanus seemed lost in thought, while Y/N felt the need to get away from his presence.

"I just..."

"I didn't want you to get hurt by all this," Coriolanus finally said, his tone softer.

"Do you think words don't hurt?" Y/N let out an ironic laugh. "Sorry, but you know nothing about what it's like to be from a district. What it's like to live in the shadow of the Capitol. Don't try to tell me it's different with me because it's not. Our childhoods were similar, but the war in the districts was by far worse."

Coriolanus looked at the ground, realizing the depth of Y/N's words. A persistent tension lingered between them, as if the broken trust had created an irreparable abyss.

"I didn't want..." Coriolanus began, but Y/N interrupted.

"I think it's better if I leave before I say something I regret."

Y/N stood up, casting a last glance at Coryo before leaving. 

"I hope Lucy Gray doesn't find out about your honest opinions on the districts. If you want to maintain a relationship with her."

The door closed behind her, leaving the boy alone in the room, engulfed in confusing emotions and growing pain. The night that began with gossip and laughter had now faded into confrontation and sadness.

_______________________

Just wanted to drop a quick note to say a massive thank you for all the love, likes and comments on my story. <3

A LOT OF ANGST TO YOU GUYS. CRY ME A RIVER.

Taglist: @shari-berri @h-l-vlovesvintage @tea-bobba @daenerysqueenofhearts @commanderfreethatdust @glxzillx @write-from-the-heart @ireallydontcareanymorebrooo

TAGLIST AND REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!!!!

[thejournallo]

Hi!

I'm wondering how can I have my faith of manifesting and shifting back. I'll explain briefly but it's been since the pandemic since I tried to apply the law and it's been 3 years since I tried to shift, however I've failed everytime (well, I've succeed for small things not even in my life but things on TV and stuff, but nothing worth it).

I tried everything, I've read Neville, I've interacted with peoples who succeed, I've applied everything, but nothing has worked, in fact, quite the opposite. I've been kick out of my apartment (I'm living with my family rn so dw), I'm unable to stay in college, I've anxiety attack if a small thing goes wrong when I'm watching shows and many other things that prevent me to relax.

The worst thing is I've never been looking more male when in fact I want to be a cute girl so bad. I hate the fact I'm trans because I know my current brain is not strong enough to assume it, I'd rather be a cis women or even stay as it is because I don't want everyone in this society to hate me.

That's why I'm trying to shift. That's the only way I could be me, seeing a therapist or having hormones won't change anything, but even shifting I fail. Each time waking up here makes me want to puke and disappear. I just want to have a strong brain and be the person I should be and deserved to be.

I don't know what I should try anymore. I've done everything, maybe I'm the 1% of people who can't manifest or do anything.

I'm sorry to bother you with this, but that's literally my last chance before doing something stupid or trying to erase my personality in order to be more accepted.

Hi there!

Thank you for reaching out, and I can feel the strength and determination in your words, even through the struggles you’ve described. Manifesting and shifting are deeply personal journeys, and it’s completely normal to feel lost or frustrated when things don’t go as planned. Remember, the power to create and transform is within you, and sometimes, it just needs a clearer path.

One of the main reasons many people struggle with manifesting is self-doubt. This doubt can sneak in as the belief that the opposite of what we want will happen or that our efforts will ultimately fail. When we think this way, we end up “polluting” our intentions with negativity. You deserve to believe fully in your vision, without these clouds of doubt.

Here are a few ideas to help you reconnect with your faith in manifesting and shifting:

Reaffirm Your Strength: Begin with simple affirmations that feel authentic. Saying things like, “I am capable, and my desires are valid,” or “I am moving closer to my true self each day,” can plant the seeds of trust within you. Repetition matters here; affirm whenever you can—over a coffee, while cooking, or whenever you feel down.

Let Go of ‘Perfect’ Outcomes: Sometimes, holding too tightly to the “perfect” vision of our desires can add unnecessary pressure. Embrace your journey as it is, allowing small successes to build your belief over time. Try to notice even the small moments that align with your goals, like those little manifestations on TV. Each one reinforces that your mind is a powerful tool.

Create a Safe Space to Visualize: It can be helpful to set aside time each day to connect deeply with your true self—visualize your ideal self not just in terms of appearance, but in terms of feeling and wholeness. Write down the qualities you admire and want to embody. This isn’t just about seeing yourself differently but feeling the reality of that change.

Trust the Process and Be Kind to Yourself: Trusting yourself can be hard, especially when faced with setbacks. But every day is a new chance. Even small, positive shifts in mindset are victories worth celebrating. And remember, manifesting often starts with loving where you are—even if it’s challenging—because that love and acceptance will help carry you forward.

Finally, it’s okay to reach out for help if you feel overwhelmed. You’re not alone, and there are people who genuinely want to support you. Keep going, and know that you have the strength and worthiness to reach the life you envision. It’s all within you; just take it one step at a time. and if you need im here

-xoxo the journallo

[penultimatefan02]

Romancing Pen:

A Compilation of Pathea's Statements

When writing about Pen, I often view Pathea's comments as hints to his future story and romance potential.

For those who may find this information helpful, I've compiled what Pathea has said about Pen (with dates and source links) on Discord over the past few years. The list is in order from oldest to newest. I'll add future statements as I find them to keep the list current.

If you notice something missing, please share and I'll add it.

2021

Zede05@Pathea— 06/17/2021 10:13 PM

But Pen only loves himself and his form of justice. Haha

2022

Yang Yang @PatheaGames — 12/02/2022 8:29 PM

[age] Pen: 31

2023

Yang Yang @PatheaGames — 02/03/2023 2:58 AM

Pen is Gaston, but maybe with the narcissism turned up even further + the whole "I think I'm a superhero" thing. Also, Pen doesn't really have a "Belle," other than himself, so hopefully that makes him stand out a bit from the trope. (edited)

Zede05@Pathea — 04/17/2023 2:41 AM

Like Aadit, I don't think players will be disappointed with how Pen eventually ends up. Just gonna have to wait a while, unfortunately. That's the thing with game development. That's all I'm gonna say on this subject.

2024

Yang Yang @PatheaGames — 01/25/2024 1:03 AM

Zede05: Sometimes, though, you guys would really love something we thought was just okay, and think some of our favorite stuff was "meh." [snip]

When we came up with the dialogue that plays after you beat Pen in a duel for the first time, I was really proud that we came up with a way to justify him calling you "Skinny Arms" in all situations, eliminating the need to code some kind of function for it, but... kind of a similar deal there.

Yang Yang @PatheaGames — 03/10/2024 10:14 PM

Pen's character leans towards being a lifelong bachelor... It's challenging for him to alter his own beliefs...at least in Sandrock.

Yang Yang @PatheaGames — 03/21/2024 2:34 AM

We may encounter Pen again in the future, but it might be in another My Time city.

zede05 — 10/17/2024 9:42 AM

Nothing's wrong with adding one more lover to his pile, right? But I don't know yet. We have an idea for what he will do, I really like the direction, but sometimes the story will take on a life of its own. It's a while away anyway.

zede05 — 10/17/2024 9:45 AM

[regarding Pen’s 12 girlfriends’ comment] I don't know what is true and what isn't when it comes to Pen.

zede05— 10/17/2024 9:58 AM

When it comes to Pen, we wrote him in English first. The Chinese translation soften him up a bit. But the idea is always he's smarter than he lets on, and he uses his personality to hide a lot of things. So players can interprete his actions and words however you like.

[chiriwritesstuff]

Meet Me at the Farmers Market! 2. - Wager

Farmers Market! Joel Miller x Confident! Plus Sized F! Florist Reader

Previous Chapter │ Series Masterlist

Series Summary: What does a Contractor do in his spare time? Sell his wood carvings at the Saturday Farmers Market, of course! A Grumpy x Sunshine Joel Miller series collective of one shots, Updates every Saturday!

Rating: M

Warnings: Jealous! Joel Miller, Tommy is a meddling little shit, Reader likes to ogle her too-hot market neighbor (I mean, who wouldn't?!) no outbreak! Verse Joel Miller, Friendly wagers between vendors

Summary: When it's a slow day at the market, Tommy suggests a wager between Joel and Sunflower. Which of our two idiots makes a move first?

A/N: Another day in the life of Joel and Sunflower a few days early? YES PLEASE! Hope y'all enjoy!

This story takes place before the events of Pt. 1 - Jealousy, Jealousy.

Banner & Dividers by @saradika

"It's been real quiet today. How are you holding up, Miller?" you ask, your voice laced with genuine concern.

"Not great," he grumbles, his frustration almost tangible.

You gaze at your table of carefully arranged flowers, a hint of disappointment flickering across your face. "I was hoping to have sold at least half of these by now," you admit, absently tweaking a vase.

A scoff echoes from across the way. "That's a tad optimistic," he teases with a playful smirk.

You shoot back with a playful glare, your eyes twinkling mischievously. "Oh, like you're doing any better, Miller. I don't see your woodland critters flying off your table this morning."

Joel grumbles, a hint of self-deprecation in his voice. "Well, they do eventually find their way home," he drawls, a hint of defensiveness in his tone. "Today's just not our lucky day, that's all."

You can't help but laugh, a smile playing at the corners of your lips. "Right, keep telling yourself that, Miller. Maybe the critters need a bit more of your southern charm today."

"Right, it's not like you use your…" he gives you a pointed look, "assets to give you a leg up in sales," he replies, a playful glint in his eye. "I haven't seen someone wink so damn much at the farmers' market."

You roll your eyes dramatically, unable to suppress a teasing grin. "Oh, please, Miller. A little charm never hurt anyone. Besides, a wink here and there adds some flair to the whole flower-selling business. You should try it sometime."

He lets out a mock sigh, shaking his head in mock disapproval. "I'll leave the winking to you, flower whisperer. Maybe those woodland critters need a secret handshake."

You both share a laugh, the tension from the slow day momentarily forgotten as the playful banter lightens the mood in the market.

"Well, well, well," Tommy suddenly interjects, breaking through the tension as he puts his arm around your shoulders, casting a mischievous grin at his brother. "Seems like today's been a bit lackluster, huh? Sunflower's table barely made a dent, and she would have been mostly sold out by now."

You playfully nudge Tommy, a smile tugging at your lips. "Easy there, Tommy. We're all feeling the slow vibes today, aren't we?"

Joel grumbles in agreement, a hint of grumpiness in his voice. "Yeah, it's been unusually quiet. Even the critters seem to be taking a snooze on the job."

Tommy's eyes light up with an idea. "I've got it! How about a little friendly competition? A wager on who can sell out first—Sunflower's beautiful blooms or Joel's charming critters. Winner gets bragging rights and a week of free lattes on the loser!"

You exchange a knowing glance with Joel, a competitive spirit rising within you. "You're on, Tommy. Get ready to be buying those lattes," you declare, a playful determination in your voice.

Joel grumbles, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "You better start practicing your sales pitch, Sunflower. Those lattes are going to be mine."

As the challenge intensifies, you notice Joel maintaining his grumpy demeanor, even as he turns on his charm with the ladies passing by. A pang of jealousy tugs at your heart, but you can't help but find his attitude endearing.

Joel grumbles at Tommy's playful antics, shooting a grumpy glare at his brother. He then turns his attention back to you, a hint of mischief in his voice. "Seems like you're getting quite cozy with my brother there, Sunflower. I might have to step up my game."

You feel a blush rising to your cheeks as you retort, "Oh please, Joel. You're the one who can't resist winking at every customer. I think you're just worried your charm might not work on everyone."

The banter continues as the friendly competition fuels a vibrant energy in the market, drawing more attention to both your stalls.

Joel grumbles playfully, a glint of competitiveness flickering in his eyes. However, as the day goes on, it becomes increasingly clear that Joel is not trying as hard as he could be. He finds himself unable to maintain his grumpy facade, particularly as he admires your dedication and passion. A sense of warmth grows inside him despite his best efforts.

As the afternoon sun begins to dip, your table starts to see more traffic, with customers drawn in by your infectious enthusiasm. Joel, on the other hand, has only managed to sell a few of his critters.

With a knowing smile, Joel arranges his remaining critters with a touch of playful annoyance, giving you an opportunity to shine. As the market comes to a close, you find your table nearly empty, a clear victory in sight.

"Congratulations, Sunflower. Looks like you've won," Joel says, offering you a genuine smile. "You deserve it. Seems like your… assets,” he motions to your unbuttoned flannel, a tease of your cleavage peeking out, you thank the stars god decided to bless you with your curves, “Really worked in your favor," he teases as he openly looks at your chest, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

You feel a rush of joy and relief, realizing Joel's subtle gesture. "Thank you, Joel. Your critters are amazing too, you know. We make quite the team, don't we?"

As the market comes to a close, the two of you share a quiet moment, the lingering warmth in Joel's gaze making your heart flutter with newfound hope. You notice a subtle shift in Joel's demeanor, as if he's holding onto something unsaid.

With a playful smile, you begin to pack up your remaining flowers, unable to shake off the feeling that Joel had been taking it easy on you. As you glance over at him, you raise an eyebrow and ask, "So, Joel, feeling generous today or just letting the lady have her moment of glory?"

Joel lets out a grumpy chuckle, his eyes dancing with amusement. "Well, Sunflower, a gentleman always knows when to let a lady shine. It's all in the spirit of chivalry, you see."

You feign a dramatic gasp, a playful glint in your eyes. "Oh, chivalry, huh? Well, I'll have you know, I'm not one to shy away from a fair competition. Next time, you won't be so lucky!"

Joel grins, a teasing glimmer in his gaze. "I'll be ready for you, Sunflower. No more Mr. Nice Guy. You'll have to earn that victory fair and square, just you wait."

You chuckle, a newfound lightness filling the air between you. "Oh, I'll be ready, Joel. And when I win, I expect you to be the one buying those celebratory lattes. Deal?"

Joel's grumpy laughter joins yours, the sound of it carrying a newfound sense of camaraderie and something more. "You've got yourself a deal, Sunflower. But don't be too confident. I might surprise you yet."

As the two of you pack up your stalls and the market starts to empty, Joel approaches you, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Say, Sunflower, how about we celebrate your victory with a dinner at the barbecue joint in town? My treat, of course."

You can't help but grin at his invitation, feeling a rush of excitement at the prospect of spending more time with him. "I'd love that, Joel. It'll be the perfect way to end this eventful day."

With a nod and a wider smile, Joel tips his hat and heads off to fetch his truck, leaving you with a fluttering heart and anticipation for the evening ahead.

[crabbng]

i actually got some in process shots for this #WebcomicDay ! they are of an episode 12 page, so this doubles as a sneak peek 🤣 you can see i forgot to take a pic of the finished lines before i started on coloring (whoops)

there are a few secret steps after finishing up backgrounds etc. (scanning, cleaning up) but since this is a sneak peek, i didn't want to put the Final Product out there.

I guess I'll ramble a little bit about The Process below the cut.

SKETCH: I don't plan out my pages as much as I should other artists do. I think about the next couple shots I want, what I can probably fit on the page, and then decide how tall the panel should be. after that I draw a big line across the page 🤣 sometimes the panel gets bisected, usually not trisected. I love it when people consider the whole of the page and make the paneling choices that elevate the art. I just don't do it lmao

luckily for me, I don't have a requirement to make every piece of my comic pages The Best. So, I focus on what I enjoy: expressions and conversations.

LINE DIALOGUE AND PANELS: For inking/lining, I ABSOLUTELY have to put in my dialogue/dialogue balloons first. Since I'm doing everything on the same page of physical paper, I can't really shift things around partway through to make the dialogue and art fit better together. I also have to make sure it all fits within the panel lines I have planned. I've gotten into situations where the WORDS fit in, but in order to make a word balloon with decent space around the words, I cross over a line. Sometimes it works, but for me.. it doesn't work most of the time. So, gotta plan ahead.

You can also see down in the final section, I handwrite my dialogue! So, if I mess up, I sometimes have to add in a few letter that I can substitute in during editing.

FINISH LINES & ERASING: All I have to say about finishing lines/erasing, is that erasing can be such a challenge lmao. JUST YESTERDAY... when I was erasing.. I tore a page a little bit. And I often accidentally crinkle a corner while erasing. The obvious solution, and what I know people do, is to sketch on one page, and then use a light table (or equivalent) to do a cleaner, lighter sketch on a new page, and then do lining on that. Which is a good idea, maybe someday I'll try it lol.

COLOR FIGURES: There's really no good reason I start with the figures, besides that I like watching them come to life with the colors. It feels weird when they're blank on the page. They're also generally the most important part of the page for me, and seeing them colored helps me decide on which panels I want to do flat color backgrounds for.

But! This means I can't go back and edit skin tones etc. to be in different lighting after the fact, unless it's to make them darker! So that's something I have to be cognizant of and plan for in advance.

I use Copics for most part of the figures, except when I know there's going to be several large areas to color, like Aoife's hair or her sweater and pants. I have character's hair planned in Copics, but I have several browns from other brands (Prismacolor, Blick, Winsor and Newton, Artist's Loft) that get pretty close to her hair color. Clothing that has large areas that need to be colored are planned as being from one of those other brands from the start. I don't want to use up all my Copic juice on them!!

Also don't you just love seeing the texture of the paper through the marker? I love it. I love the natural variation you get.

BACKGROUNDS & OTHER DETAILS: Color everything else! Backgrounds and shadows generally. For backgrounds I'm once again using my alternative brands. I've got a lot of space to cover, and those markers, along with being cheaper, are generally larger than my Copics. So it works out.

Sometimes I tend to go a bit wild with the single color backgrounds, to the point where I think it can get distracting. So I have to rein it in and leave some panels with white backgrounds, so the reader isn't just blasted with colors from every angle. My rule of thumb is to try and only have color on one panel in each of my lines of panels, and to alternate sides, if possible. I feel like that guides the eye easier.

Doing things traditionally means I don't really get any shortcuts when it comes to backgrounds, including just flat color backgrounds. Every square millimeter has gotta be colored purposefully by me. And maybe that seems like a pointless use of time and effort! But man, I love the end result. I'm all for shortcuts, it's just a lot of the ones I see floating around don't apply to me 🤣

I'll talk about my other steps here too, might as well.

SCANNING: After colors and everything, I scan the pages. They're too big to fit in my scanner, so I scan the top and bottom halves separately, and stitch them together (I use PhotoStitcher).

From there, I rotate it to (more or less) make it straight on my canvas, make a .clip version, and send it off to my iPad!

I got my iPad in a workplace raffle, and though there's a lot about the UI I don't love, it's been really convenient!

EDITING: Editing consists of: cleaning up things that should be white (like eyes, teeth, and word balloons), and then cleaning up marker that's bled over into areas it doesn't belong, and is distracting. I try not to overdo it on marker cleanup, because 1) it takes a while, 2) it can stress me out if I decide I need it all to be PERFECT, and 3) it feels slightly disingenuous, just TO ME, about my OWN work. I don't think 3) is valid, so I try to ignore that part, but sometimes in my head I'm like 'mm but Jacki can you say its traditional if you have to do so much work in post to make it presentable??' (said in a very snobby voice). I went from not really caring -> REALLY caring -> hopefully I'll get to caring a reasonable amount.

FINISHING: Last steps are to send it BACK to my computer, where I have two auto actions to size the page and to export it as a .png in a large and a small size. I should be rightfully criticized for how I size the pages lmao, it's 2647x3560 pixels. Why that number specifically? That's 1) how I've done it since the beginning, so they are all this very strange size, and 2) it's about the maximum area of scanned page I can consistently get.

I think that's it? I don't know why you would, but if you have any questions, feel free to hit me up and I'll answer them to the best of my ability. Hope someone finds this interesting or helpful LOL

bye 💕 happy webcomic day!

[jo-harrington]

As Above, So Below - Chapter 7: Exodus

Previous Chapter: Chapter 6 - Revelation

Summary: On the road to securing Eddie's freedom, you face insurmountable challenges and need to decide between love or your life.

Word Count: 15.8k

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

Warnings/Themes: Van Helsing Inspired, Kas!Eddie, Religious Themes, Criticism of Religion/Catholicism, Fate vs. Free Will, Death and Injury, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death, Discussion of the Upside Down, Fluff, Supernatural Encounters, Gore, Body Horror, Angst, Monsterfucking, Monster Voyeurism, Disturbing Imagery, Allusion to Necrophilia (not Eddie), Brief Allusion to Suicide/Suicidal Ideation, Biblical and Other Literary/Media References. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

Note: Uhm...I don't know what to say about this chapter except I'm sorry. And I'm sorry. And I'll fix it, but maybe not for another few chapters. *looks at the masterlist* There's also only like...4 chapters left after this one. So...sorry :D

This series will not be for the faint of heart, nor is it something that was written with a general audience in mind. Please check the above warnings and ask yourself if you are in the correct headspace to proceed. I am happy to answer any questions via PM or Ask.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

“And in the end, we were all just humans, drunk on the idea that love, only love, could heal our brokenness.”  - Christopher Poindexter, misattributed to F. Scott Fitzgerald

November 6, 1983

The days that followed--or weeks, thanks to the delay of time in the Upside Down--wavered between an endless dream and an endless nightmare.

It was a dream because...well, you had all the time in the world to spend together here.

You didn't limit yourselves to the confines of the secret little house in the outskirts of the mirrored Hawkins or the Creel house or the chapel. You went everywhere together, saw everything.

You listened to the tapes that Wayne had brought, told jokes and stories. Sometimes you'd just sit together in silence, basking in the simple truth of each other's presence; sometimes you'd have your own activities you'd engage in--books and comics and whatever--sometimes no activity at all.

Sometimes you'd just stare at each other.

You made each other laugh, made each other smile, made each other shout and holler over trivial debates just like you used to.

Eddie lavished you with a guitar performance almost every night, starting with a reenactment of the Most Metal Concert in the History of the World atop the partially ruined trailer in the Upside Down's Forest Hills.

You were enamored with the way his clawed and elongated fingers plucked masterfully at the strings of his Sweetheart, extra phalanges on his new hands making him so dextrous.

You'd always been a fan of his music, a fan of his love of music, and it made you utterly happy to see that it wasn't lost here. He was eager to show off the tricks that he had struggled to perform with his human hands--troublesome chords and rapid fingering on the fretboard that he often cursed about during band practice way back when--and he'd bask in your cheers and your awe. Then he would turn around and prove what else those fingers were good at.

Most of the time together was spent with him in his more familiar, comfortable, human form. His words, not yours; although you would argue that you didn't have a preference either way. But it was his body to choose.

Typically though, sex and feeding were done in his new form, so the two of you could be untethered and free.

Unafraid.

And you took advantage of that time to explore him. You were eager for the chance after your reunion, it seemed, and he always teased you but there was always more to learn. New places that he was ticklish, that he was vulnerable, that made him moan and chuckle and chitter.

He spoke to you in that infernal speech sometimes, unknown promises spoken low and deep in your ear, as he thrust and rubbed and brought you both close to pleasure. Some secret confession that he didn't want you to know outright, but knew you would still understand deep in your heart. In your soul.

He even took you flying a few times.

"You ass," you slapped at him teasingly when he offered the first time, after you'd moaned about the time it took crossing Hawkins to greet Wayne. "You let me walk all around all this time when you could have just flown me everywhere?"

His great, gruesome wings twitched and he smiled that unnaturally wide, unsettling, toothsome smile that you were growing quite fond of.

"Can't let my girl get too spoiled," he joked right back at you. "Besides, aren't angels supposed to fly?"

Fucker, you hissed under your breath, only for it to turn into a yelp as he scooped you off your feet and took to the air.

You’d never considered flying before in your life, ever. Never imagined it. At best, you’d wondered what it would be like to fall if you jumped from the SkyDeck of the Sears Tower or hurtled yourself over the edge of the Grand Canyon. Some flailing uncontrollable thing before you’d inevitably meet your demise in a splatter.

But never flying, never gliding.

It was glorious.

Wind in your face, Eddie’s arms securely around you, you could see for miles as he soared above Hawkins with great beats of his powerful wings.

A group of demobats fluttered into some sort of flock formation with him—it suddenly made sense why he’d looked like he yearned to join them on that first day—and he indulged them in some silly aerial play. Just some weaving and climbing and one drastic nosedive that had you giggling hysterically; the fluttering feeling in your stomach was better than a rollercoaster.

Once you were alone again, Eddie, mischief maker that he was, decided to drop you. Just once. He said he wanted to show you a trick—a barrel roll—and then once it was over, his strong arms pulled away.

Time slowed as you began your descent back to the earth, hands automatically reaching out to try and grab him.

But there was no panic surging through you.

In fact, you were flooded with a sense of peace.

You felt weightless.

And not just in the literal sense.

The world fell away. All of your troubles, the weight of responsibility, the curse…gone.

You enjoyed the free fall for a few brief moments, and Eddie let you have those moments, before he dove down to catch you with an exaggerated “whoops.” You laughed and teased him not to do it again as he tightened his arms around you and pressed apologetic kisses to your lips.

He promised he would never let you go again, crossed his heart and everything.

Still it didn’t stop him from making the joke every time you flew together after that. Feigning a drop so you would punish him with a slap or a punch and then he would pout and ask for a forgiving kiss.

Then it was back to the ground again to greet Wayne or for you to return back to Hawkins for more supplies or a shower.

Back to reality.

But for those brief and beautiful seconds there was nothing.

No worry, no obligation, no dread.

It was just you and Eddie. Reaching out to one another. Just a few metaphorical moments away from being together again. Free.

And it was the thing that drove you both to focus, to work harder.

Because you had a task to complete. A mission: You had to get Eddie home.

Fun and games and quality time aside, after the night in the chapel, you dedicated your time, effort, and power on solving this.

And not just yours; Eddie's too.

The need to fix this ignited a fire of determination within both of you.

Eddie was eager to use the abilities Vecna had unlocked within him for something positive, something useful--something good--instead of the meaningless death that simply came from remaining here and alive.

Instead of the chaos and destruction he had been forced to cause at the lich's whim.

"But you've already done something positive," you tried to lessen his guilt when he confessed the thought to you. "You helped defeat Vecna. You brought Max back to life. The brides and the others too. You survived. This will just be another tick on the list. You're good, Eddie. You are so, so good."

So most days were spent exploring the areas around the gates--exploring the gates themselves, much to your body's protest--testing your powers in this new world, this new earth, to see how much you and Eddie could or could not do.

Whether it was from the sheer amount of time spent here or because of Vecna's intervention, or the fact that Eddie had become something more than human now--something intrinsically entwined with the Upside Down--he seemed to have a much better handle on channeling his abilities here. But it was too unskilled, too raw, and too reliant on instinct and emotion. You'd watch him get riled up on purpose in order to open one of the gates wider or attempt to close them.

You didn't hesitate to guide him, teach him. And it opened up a world of possibilities on how to use that power.

Eddie was an excellent student.

He always had been, actually. Smart as a whip, able to pick things up easily. Even when you'd originally been with him in Hawkins, he'd always had the capability of passing his classes, he just...lacked the motivation and support. Or even interest in the subject matter.

Here, now, he was eager to learn and succeed.

Your original deal was in place, the one that you'd agreed on so long ago when you were determined to see him graduate. You would teach him something and he would get some reward in return; usually just a kiss, sometimes some kind of sexual favor, once he even begged you to join a small DnD one-shot with the brides.

That had been an experience, to say the least.

But before long he could do tremendous things. Cause the earth to shake on purpose, channel the lightning that was ever-present in the sky, commune with the world around him so that he might get a better understanding of what was expected of him and why it prevented him from leaving.

Eddie's growing mastery over his power also helped lessen some of the toll yours took on you.

You never seemed able to utilize your powers to their fullest potential in the Upside Down, and the few times you had returned to the real Hawkins, you felt the tangible difference. There was a surge of your connection with both Heaven and Earth that was simply absent when you were in the other realm. The rumble of the ground beneath your feet, the Earth's molten core, the tremor of the shifting atmosphere as it held the heavens so high up. It was a relief, a breath of fresh air.

Even then, sometimes it seemed like you could never catch your breath after you regained your connection. You were perpetually fatigued.

You ignorantly continued to chalk it up to the differences in worlds, the strain it took to cross through them, and simply sought out alternate practices to supplement as much as you could.

The conversation with Mary Victoria during your initial trip to Hawkins had brought superstition and magic to the forefront of your mind. Not the most conventional for a Knight of the Holy Order, but beggars couldn't be choosers.

Prayers were spoken to various saints as you crushed dried flowers and herbs and beans from the little jars out of the trunk of your car and Claudia’s kitchen. Bread crumbs and heads of garlic. Salt and bone dust.

The simple acts conjured memories of sitting in the basement with Nonna, preparing for this feast day or that one. Old-world blessings to protect the house from wandering spirits and silly home remedies for illnesses rather than trips to the doctor. They felt like returning to a home you hadn't lived in for years. You could practically hear Nonna scolding you that they were not meant to be used for the things you were using them for.

But you had no other choice than to simply try, and the warm and welcoming feeling they gave you made you believe that they would help.

After some time, it had seemed like they worked in one way or another--a combination of all the superstitious higgledy piggledy alongside your waning powers. Light and darkness, holy and unholy, divine and archaic together--because Eddie was able to hold a hand through one of the Gates.

Just a hand.

Certainly not his whole body, not able to fully cross through the membrane of the fissure, but He no longer felt the invisible barrier, the uncontrollable lock on all of his limbs as he attempted to get near a gate.

It wasn't a solution, but it was something.

It was hope.

It made you both scream and laugh at the success, and you kissed and fucked and fed to celebrate this small triumph, until you realized you still had so much further to go.

So you kept going and going, kept pushing for the next milestone.

As much as you could, for as long as you both could.

Truly, the emphasis was on as long as you could, actually.

Because the longer you stayed in the Upside Down with Eddie and the more you pushed yourself, the more you felt the noticeable toll simply existing here took on you.

And the worse it got, the weaker you got.

Until one day you realized that you were dying.

You'd gotten good at lying over the years, good at hiding everything that was wrong with you. Both physical and emotional pain and turmoil.

Nonna had always been the one to see through it, but she was gone now. Jinette knew which buttons to push to get it to erupt out of you, and Gabriel...he just seemed to show up at the most inconvenient times.

But Eddie...Eddie might not have always known what was wrong--or that there even had been anything wrong--but knew how to soothe those hurts until you were ready to tell him. Even now, in this new body and this new world, with these new challenges, he was soft and attentive as he began to notice the changes in you.

The thing about you was that you were also good at lying to yourself.

It hadn't happened all at once, which made the lies easier to believe.

The tremor in your hands as you cast your power out into the world was shaken away. You stiffened your muscles until you were steady once again.

The weariness in your body was explained simply because you kept pushing harder and harder.

"You need a break," Eddie whispered into your skin as you struggled to rise for the "day," ready to face the next set of challenges.

"I need to get you out of here," you dismissed. His clawed hands flexed against your sides in a pseudo-caress. "I'll be fine. I'm just tired. I would kill for a coffee...or a sod though. A shower would be nice too, if there was running water."

"I'll be sure to work on that for the future," he snarked. "But seriously, we can take a day without trying to split the world in two. Just so you can get some more sleep."

"Do you need a break?"

"It wouldn't hurt."

"But do you need one?"

"No."

"Then I'll be fine too," you shrugged him off.

You should have listened. Or at the very least, not been so quick to dismiss his worries.

It only got worse.

Little by little, you began to notice a great, gaping void forming deep within you; it grew every day, snuffing out the warm light inside of you, weakening you. You began to lose yourself, feel less like yourself. Not in speech or in action, just in being.

Suddenly everything took more effort, more willpower. Everything seemed especially straining and hopeless. Everything hurt.

The annoying, ever-present pinches whenever you crossed through the gates between the worlds were gone; instead there were deep, sharp slashes that cut through your mind and body and made you want to scream when you finally emerged from the other side.

You collapsed into Wayne's waiting arms once, late in October, after weeks had passed in the real world and months had passed in the Upside Down. And you sobbed as the realization that something was terribly wrong finally hit you, as the lie that you'd told yourself evaporated, as you finally recognized that the longer you stayed in the Upside Down, the faster you were fading.

"Don't tell him," you whispered into worn flannel as Wayne held you. "I'll fix it."

"What if you can't?"

"I...just don't tell him. Please."

You stretched your stay in the real Hawkins as long as you could before you knew Eddie would be too worried. A whole day instead of a few quick hours; it was time spent mostly with Wayne at Lover's Lake.

You told him everything that you'd been experiencing over breakfast, and he immediately suggested taking more time away from the Upside Down. You shot down that idea as quickly as possible; Eddie needed you, and moreover, you needed him.

In the end, he got you to promise that you'd make more trips back to Hawkins. Quick ones. Half days or supply runs. He insisted that Eddie would understand.

"There's something about that place," he muttered darkly into his mug. "I always thought so. It's why I go to see him as often as I do, so he doesn't forget himself like he did before..."

"Vecna isn't there anymore to brainwash him again," you reassured. "He's...he told me about everything he felt, everything he did. That...void is gone. The darkness is gone. He's Eddie again; I know it. We just need to get him home."

Wayne sighed and stretched a hand across the table to place over yours.

"He's been more himself than I've seen him in years honey, but that doesn't mean that'll always be the case. I don't want anything happening to him. Or to you. The two of you are all I have left."

You understood; he and Eddie were really all you had left too.

After breakfast, you spent time reconvening with nature, with the earth...maybe with God, you weren't sure. You certainly said a few prayers that hadn't left your lips in quite some time; you wondered if those prayers were so foreign coming from you that He would ignore them entirely.

Still, it didn't hurt to try.

Dinner was at the Harrington's with your friends.

You faked a smile as you told everyone the progress you'd made to fix Eddie and close the gates once and for all. It wasn't a lie, not really, but you still felt guilty at everyone's hopeful chatter and talk of rebuilding. Especially as both Wayne and Dustin's worried gazes were frozen on you.

"You sure everything's ok?" Dustin questioned as everyone settled down to eat, but you simply flicked the bill of his hat and tucked into your own food.

Mary Victoria was too busy making goo-goo eyes at Steve, and you took advantage of teasing her so that she didn’t get a chance to see that there was anything wrong with you. You wouldn’t be able to lie to her.

When the sun finally rose on that second day, you were refreshed and eager to get back to Eddie.

You felt a little better. Felt the edges of that void within you start to brighten again. It pained you to think that Wayne might be right, and that you needed to spend time away from the Upside Down to feel better, away from Eddie.

So it was easier to deny it. To pretend. To lie.

You already promised to visit more, what else could you do?

That thought was solidified as you and Wayne crossed the gate--biting back the stinging cutting pain in your body as you crawled through--to find Eddie's waiting figure.

"You really weren't kidding about the running water thing, were you?" he joked, arms wide open for you to join him.

If he sensed there was something wrong--something unspoken between you and Wayne--he certainly didn't show it. He simply held you tightly as you tucked yourself into his side, the only place you truly found strength and comfort.

You turned your face towards him to say some sort of reassuring joke, that as nice as a shower was you'd always return to him because his hugs were better, but that's when you saw the turmoil in his gaze. A roiling storm of unsettling worry in his dark, abyss-like eyes.

You immediately felt guilty.

You turned to Wayne and sent him a wide, pleading look to keep quiet; he nodded almost imperceptibly. Still, there was a sternness about him, a silent warning not to go too far.

But with Eddie beside you--your heart, your soul, your life--how could you promise that? You'd go as far as you needed to; you had to.

You had to push yourself, had to keep going, for him.

You hoped that would be enough.

Once during a mission--lifetimes ago, it seemed--a creature with some dark, predatory psychic ability was able to weed out the truth of your pain and grief and bring it to the surface. Nonna had just died and, combined with the pain of losing Eddie and fighting to get back to him in the afterlife, something inside of you had changed.

The creature preyed on those changes, that weakness.

Back then, it had only been the memory and promise of reuniting with Eddie that caused you to persevere. The temptation to give in had been so delicious. But you'd defeated that insidious creature and walked away with your life and mind...not quite normal...but intact.

Thanks to the unwavering power and strength of your love.

But it made you aware of what it felt like to be preyed upon and that’s what you felt now as you returned to The Upside Down.

The first order of business upon your return was blood.

A day in the real world for you was several days for Eddie, and with the Brides and the creatures of the Upside Down hunting less--or at least, with much less rampant destruction--you knew that he was hungry.

"Starving," he groaned.

He shed his human form once Wayne crossed back through the gate and now you were settled somewhere deep in the labyrinth of the Creel House with your horrifically beautiful boyfriend, situated in the cradle of his arms as he prepared to feed.

It was an intimate act, a very sensual one. At least, that's how you made it out to be now that all of the pretenses of normalcy had been removed. It was a precursor to an inexplicable connection--emotional, physical, sexual, even if sex wasn't always to follow--a foreplay of one sort or another, and you both basked in it.

Of course, foreplay with Eddie had always meant silliness, chatter, and giggling. It was no different now--he was still Eddie, after all--and it was especially evident that he needed the banter since you'd spent time away. He longed for companionship as he'd been left to his own devices for days, and you were happy to oblige.

"Did you watch any TV while you were there?" he muttered as he nosed down your jaw, sniffing the desired sustenance that pulsed beneath your skin. He plucked at the neck of your shirt with careful talons and nipped at you playfully. "Wayne break out the old Bonanza tapes?"

"Believe it or not, he had Hawaii Five-O going when we got back from dinner," you laughed.

"What episode?" His cold breath fanned across your neck.

"The one with the horse."

You went back and forth talking about the ups and downs of the episode. The highlights of Steve McGarrett and Danny Williams challenges with one foe or another, and the scoff of disbelief that so much drama could happen on such a small island.

Eddie even hummed the theme song as he ran his lips over your skin as soon as he'd had enough actual discussion of the topic.

What a sight you must have made.

The suspense was thick in the air as you waited for the inevitable bite; of course, he kissed your skin and muttered a cheeky relax-it's-just-a-pinch-sweetheart, before his fangs pierced the space between your neck and shoulder.

You both sighed in tandem, the world around you forgotten, as he took his first pull of blood. You felt the warm rivulets escape the wideness of his gaping mouth as he drank from you and in any other scenario you might have rolled your eyes at the fact that you'd need to clean up after his sloppy feeding habits. But being close like this, feeling his life force entwine with yours...it made you forget all of your troubles.

It was transcendent.

It was everything.

His touches and caresses, the gentle hums and hisses and clicks that came from deep within him. You laughed as you watched his wings flutter behind him and then he chuckled deeply in return.

You closed your eyes and let yourself savor the moment with him, committing all of the sounds and sensations to memory in case you needed it at the end of it all.

If you faded into death soon and had to cling on to one strand of light and love as you made your descent into hell for the eternal punishment that waited for you, you wanted it to be this moment here.

There was a sound--a snicker--and you stiffened suddenly. Eddie didn't notice. He continued the deep, satiating pulls from the bite, unaware of the intrusion, but you blinked your eyes open and met a cold, black gaze that was locked right on you.

There was a crooked, unsettling grin that grew on Fred's face as soon as you noticed him.

Taunting.

He stood at the threshold of the room you and Eddie had claimed as your own here at the Creel House, and he leaned slightly against the door. The door to your room that was most-certainly closed when Eddie had brought you here to feed. You watched, almost horrified, as Fred ran his hands along his body suggestively; it would have been comedic--his nerdy clothes caught on his claws, creating more holes in the sweater vest and chinos-- if it wasn't so sinister.

If you didn't feel some sense of fear grip you for the first time since before you'd realized who Kas had really been.

Eddie finally felt how still you'd become and pulled away abruptly, leaving droplets of blood along your shirt and down the front of himself messily. His expression went from worried to livid as he spotted Fred at the door.

In the blink of an eye you were bouncing on the bed and Eddie's towering form was at the door, holding Fred aloft by his throat as he hissed that infernal speech at him in some kind of admonishment. Some kind of warning.

It made your entire body erupt in goosebumps.

When all was said and done, and Eddie returned to your side muttering apologies--

"I'm sorry sweetheart, I was so caught up feeding. If I had known. Benson's always been a pervy little weirdo, and that's coming from me. Please, please, I'm sorry."

--you couldn't help but stare at the empty threshold of the room.

The door had been left open.

And Fred might have been gone, but you swore there was still a dark set of eyes watching you.

"Look at me please."

"I can't."

"I'm ok. I'm fine."

"It's a trick," you sniffed. "A lie. I saw you."

"Well look again and see that I'm ok." You felt him getting closer to you, his presence soft and calming. "Angel, please. Open your eyes."

You couldn't bear to see him broken and bloody again. Not after the countless times you had already witnessed him that way over the past few years. It was too much. You needed him to be whole, as whole as he could be given the circumstances; why couldn't he understand that?

His fingertips gently grazed your cheek and you didn't hesitate to lean into his touch.

"But I do understand," he whispered painfully, answering your silent question. "I...I felt the same way when I saw you broken sweetheart. I thought I was gonna lose you forever. That he was gonna take you away for good."

There was a pause.

"I guess he's doing this to me too though. I, uh, would call him a douchebag but that puts a whole new meaning to self hatred huh?"

You couldn't help but snort at the joke and you didn't need to see him to know that there was a smile growing on his face at the sound.

"Don't give up on me," he whispered. "Don't give up on any of us. I can't tell you how many times I've watched her just...fucking...badass her way out of some impossible situation. Worse situations than this. We'll be ok, I believe it."

You held back some choice words; she wasn't you...even if she was. You didn't have the courage she had, hadn't endured countless dangers. Her strength and yours, while similar, were born of different adversities.

Still it was nice to hear some optimism for once, to not have to be the source of it; Eddie had been a miserable piece of shit for a long time.

You slowly blinked your eyes open and he lifted your chin so you could look at him.

Skin pristine, eyes warm and sparkling. That stupid cute smile that you just wanted to kiss.

Not bloody. Not wounded. Whole.

"There," he sighed. "See? Everything is gonna be fi--"

He choked on a cough and frowned. His free hand rubbed at his chest for a second and he coughed again.

And again.

And again.

Until blood started seeping from his lips.

You shrugged his hand away and put as much distance between you as you could. You clamped your eyes back shut and covered your ears as he coughed and choked.

It felt cowardly, it felt wrong. But you were helpless.

You learned a long time ago that prayers were useless here, but you still whispered your pleas over and over, so someone could hear. So she might hear.

And ultimately you knew you couldn't do anything to save him.

Because you were his. And he was hers.

She was the only one who could fix this.

A couple of days passed after the incident with Fred before you crossed paths with any of the Brides again.

There was a different air surrounding them now, not just in relation to you, but Eddie as well, it seemed. They'd been stiff around him for a while, actually. It was just…tangibly worse now.

You didn't know when it started; they seemed fine after that spectacle you'd overheard of Eddie scolding them in the attic weeks ago.

In fact, you actually got to meet them, learn about them, and hear their stories firsthand. Hear about the things that made them easy prey to Vecna. And as...off putting and somewhat sinister as they still were, you found more similarities between them and Eddie--and yourself, to be honest--than differences.

You heard about their deaths at Vecna’s hands and their rebirth at Eddie’s. You got to see the relationships they all developed with him, and it warmed your heart to see them all—the kinds of kids who had written Eddie off when you’d first known—find common ground with him. In death and rebirth, they became more than a cheerleader and a basketball player, a nerd and a metalhead.

They were all traumatized kids who were offered some second chance at life. Maybe not quite a normal life, but a life. They deserved it.

But there was a turning point.

For all of them.

Even though Eddie said nothing about it, you noticed him start to keep them at arms length, especially as you started making progress on his abilities and the mission to get him back to Hawkins. You couldn't be sure if Fred was just more evidence that something had changed...or that it was directly caused by it.

There was that creeping Catholic guilt grabbing you by the throat at the thought. You had been gone from Hawkins for so long that you didn’t even exist to Eddie or the Brides upon their creation. Or the development of their bond through their shared suffering.

Had you been the cause of the rift between them?

It lingered in your mind as you went about your days in the Upside Down and as you made trips back to Hawkins to restore your strength.

You thought removing yourself from their realm, their home, however briefly, might make things better.

When were you going to learn that you were wrong about everything…

One day, on your return to the Upside Down--decidedly not escorted by Wayne, who was upset that you had yet to tell Eddie anything about your weakened state--Patrick had been waiting on the other side of the gate.

You were shocked to see him, and all of the divine sense inside of you screamed for you to go back, to scream for Eddie, to attack before he could.

To run.

But he was crying.

He looked more human than you had ever seen him before, sitting on some rocky outcropping, shoulders shaking with sobs. Those same shoulders that were draped with a tattered green letterman jacket.

His clawed hands clutched the lapels of it, pulling it tighter around him, wings folded into it so it would fit, and he stared up at the sky. As though it would give him some answer to whatever troubled him.

How many times had you been there?

You could clearly see the tar-like tears dripping down his cheeks as you got closer.

“Pat?” You called softly and he winced but didn’t acknowledge you. “Is everything ok?”

Lightning flashed overhead and he shuddered.

He didn’t respond to your question. Instead he asked, “do you think they’re alive?”

You paused a few feet from him.

Who? His family? He told you about them before, just like the others had. A mom and dad, a younger brother and sister. Twins. A picture-perfect life that would make anyone envious.

“Have you…never gone to find them?” You questioned. “In all the times you’ve been in Hawkins…”

“I never…never thought about it before,” he confessed. “When we’ve been back, all I’ve thought about was my hunger. Bringing back enough blood for Eddie. I k-killed people.”

He pulled the jacket tighter around him.

“He sent us to feed the other day and I thought about finding them. I went back to the house after I had my fill."

"Yeah?"

"But it was empty. Abandoned.” He closed his eyes, lines of pain suddenly etching across his face. "I found my jacket...right where I left it in the hall closet and I couldn't help myself. I took it. It was the only thing I needed, more than blood actually.

"But when I got back here, I started to wonder...if they were gone. Dead."

There was a beat, then he took a deep breath and opened his eyes to stare at you, fresh tears falling.

"B-because if they're alive...why would they leave it behind. If they knew I died...why would they leave me behind? If they're alive, do they even miss me?"

The pain in his voice--the stinging anger--made your heart ache and you couldn't help yourself. You crossed the distance and pressed a hand to his shoulder, and covered one of the hands on his jacket with the other.

As soon as your fingertips brushed against the jacket, you were overwhelmed by the memories woven into the jacket, intrinsic to its makeup just like every fiber and thread.

Getting the jacket for the first time when he made varsity, his father telling Patrick how proud he was of him, his little brother trying the jacket on in awe and vowing he'd have his own someday, rejoicing in a championship victory with his friends.

And as each memory--each emotion tied to it--hit you, you let it seep through your body and into his, along with an overarching sense of peace.

Even in your weakened state, this part of your power prevailed. You didn't need to destroy or defend if you could do this. If you could soothe the jagged parts of Patrick's heart and soul.

Soul.

The longer you stood there comforting him, the more you could feel it, and yes...jagged was the right word to use. Hurt, tired, broken. You knew you couldn't fix it, but maybe you could file away some of the sharp edges so he wouldn't get hurt when he looked for a little light in this ever-present dank darkness in the Upside Down.

Patrick's tears lessened until they stopped altogether. When you pulled your hands back you felt weak, but a good kind of weak, and he caught you as your footing faltered.

"The others...wouldn't understand," he said as he righted you. "Eddie, maybe but..."

"It's ok," you stopped him so he wouldn't feel obligated to explain, but your words fell short when he lifted a hand and clicked his claws against the chain of your necklace.

You could practically feel the words burn with holy power--as if to say "how could you have let yourself as close to a devilish being in a place like this"--as one sharp point rasped over the inscription.

Gratia. Charitas. Solamen.

"It told me that they hated me," he whispered. "He told me that they hated me too."

"...who?" you asked dumbly.

Patrick simply tapped the last word on the inscription and then his hand fell away. He looked you dead in the eye.

"I should have known better than to listen to those lies again."

You were left with more questions after the encounter, and you stayed in your head for most of the day upon your return to the Creel house.

You return that, unfortunately, didn't immediately bring about a reunion with Eddie.

You knew that he seemed to be the master of the Upside Down now in the void left after Vecna's death, but he likened it more like a Stewardship.

"Alright Denethor," you had teased him. "Does that mean this is Minas Tirith?”

But that meant he had other...situations to attend to, although you doubted Vecna had ever been as thorough in his stewardship of the dimension as Eddie was.

You'd been with him a few times and witnessed it yourself. An overrunning of vines and tentacles in the town center, enough that the Demogorgons could barely pass. He culled the overgrowth with several waves of his hands. Or a bloody fight amongst the nests of creatures that had overtaken the quarry. He told you it always turned bloody when the demodogs play turned a little too rough. Especially with a runt like Cerberus.

You had stayed high above as he handled the troublemakers and then soothed his worries later that evening when he felt he was too rough on his friends.

Whatever it was that he had to deal with now though was serious enough for him to miss your return. Which...was fine; you understood. But it left you with too much time on your hands. Time to roam and think and overthink.

You wandered about the Creel House aimlessly, getting lost in the long and winding halls as easily as you got lost in your thoughts. At some point, you had the bright idea to find Patrick again, to ask him some more questions, but he seemed to vanish once you were back.

You called his name as you wandered the empty house, and eventually found yourself outside.

Found yourself outside of the garage.

It was a dilapidated but expansive multi-car thing set far along the driveway at the back of the property, with an overgrowth of dead shrubs and a busted door. Although the house was massive--the entire dimension was massive--the Brides had made the garage a home for themselves and the other vampires to stay close to Eddie. A spot to congregate and rest. Clean themselves, talk. You really didn't know.

You'd asked Eddie about it once, when you found that the pillars at the front of the house were not their natural home, but instead a punishment. You ignored the sour feeling that put in your stomach, and instead reasoned that they must live somewhere if not there.

He explained their whereabouts, and then told you to stay as far away as you could.

For your safety, he said, even if he had basically promised you were safe in the Upside Down under his protection.

You knew you still had to tell him of your...affliction, but you were beginning to wonder just how safe you were.

You knew you should have heeded his warning, but if you wanted to find Patrick, this was surely the place for it.

You crossed the yard as carefully as you could and you debated calling out for Pat, like you had in the house. But something deep down inside you held your words back.

Hell, your innate sense of danger seemed to hold you back, phantom hands grabbing at you to stop you, your legs suddenly weighted like lead.

But you were too stubborn, too stupid.

You shook all of your instinct off and then made it to the door.

It was silly, your first thought as you glanced through the cracked wood was that the vampires truly looked like a clique, and Chrissy defaulted to the place of Queen Bee.

She hung from the rafters of the garage, a mirror image to how she had looked in the trailer oh-so-many weeks ago. When she...Eddie...she...you had been seduced and then brought here. Several vampires surrounded her: Heather first and foremost--as gruesome as she looked, Eddie had assured you none of them felt any pain, this was just their state of being here--then a short distance away...Bob Newby, the old RadioShack manager, and a handful of others whose names even Eddie didn't know.

He didn't speak Russian, he told you, as if that was some sort of explanation.

Further recessed back in the garage was Fred, alongside a woman named Janet, and a man named Tom. You'd found out, sometime ago, that they were Heather's parents. Although aside from one instance where Janet's long and probing tongue licked along Heather's face you couldn't say you saw any familial behaviors between them.

Your mind went to Barb when you first found out, who was more creature than person during the attack on the square, and you wondered if the three of them were in the same state. Many of the vampires seemed lost to the concept of humanity or consciousness, actually, with the Brides being the most whole of them all.

They all chattered and hissed and spoke in that dastardly infernal speech, voices and sounds overlapping and combining into some wicked white noise. And while there was some manifestation of your power that you'd used several times in your stint as a Knight, to understand devilish languages and the garbled speech of creatures of the dark, you didn't want to risk using your abilities on something so silly.

But something deep in the dark pit that was growing inside of you--a feeling that you suddenly feared--seemed to beg you to do it.

It tempted you to do it. Taunted you. Played tug of war with your head and your heart.

You debated for what felt like hours.

Do it. Don't do it. But you needed to know. But your whole point to come out here was for Patrick, and Patrick wasn't here.

You took a step back, ready to turn and head back into the house and wait for Patrick to reappear or Eddie to return.

And then there was a screech and you froze momentarily, then stepped back towards the crack in the door.

Chrissy was standing upright now, the only one speaking, her hands flailing wildly. All eyes were on her as she made some kind of rallying speech...or told a story.

All bets were off.

You muttered some arcane old latin phrase and her words suddenly became known to you. Not quite English as a sound that hit the ears, but understood deep in your being. At least...partially.

It was broken. Maybe because you were broken.

The master. Betrayal. Weakness. Blood.

Still, those words caused anger to bubble up inside of you; what did she mean about the master and betrayal? Eddie? Were they plotting to betray him? Vecna? Maybe she was telling some story about how Eddie had turned on him to defeat him.

God. Sins. The Devil.

Then there was annoyance, and you rolled your eyes; yeah, Chrissy had been some Churchy Sue when she was alive, wasn't she? Although, it was a little pot-meet-kettle when you considered your literal occupation was soldier of God.

Subdue. Slaughter. Feast.

The last few words were said to the resounding cheers of the others, their hissing and screeching and roaring. Chrissy laughed and then they all began to move, fast enough for you to lose focus of them, and notice what else was in the garage.

Bodies. Dozens of dead bodies, faces petrified in fear, throats slashed from claws and fangs. Just like the remains of the dead in Hawkins.

You were confused for a moment, as the vampires all began to feed on their plunder; you had...just been in Hawkins, there wasn't an attack, was there? These seemed...fresh. Too fresh.

You tried to make sense of it all as you witnessed their feeding, refusing to look away even though you winced at the cracking of bones and tried to ignore the wet sloshing sounds of flesh being torn and consumed.

The difference in time...and Eddie's promise that they wouldn't feed on any more blood than they needed...wouldn't kill more than they needed...and they'd never brought bodies back before...

But then your thoughts stopped as the scene turned into...something else. As their ashen desiccated flesh became slick and wet with blood and they used the high of the feed to chase a new high.

As the remnants of clothes were shed and they became a writhing mass of limbs as they fucked each other, fucked the bodies--their parts--and fed on both. A true spectacle of revelry and temptation and monstrous animalism.

Decadent and dastardly consumption.

And you couldn’t be sure—it could have been a trick of the light or your fickle imagination—but after a few seconds, a set of pitch black eyes settled on yours and you felt like all of the air was stolen from your lungs.

You were no longer worried about being careful or cautious. You didn't care about Patrick or the intentions of Chrissy and the others.

You turned on your heel and ran.

Eddie returned when you were fast asleep, but you didn't stay asleep for long. You were plagued with nightmares of everything you had been through, everything you had witnessed since you'd crossed back into Hawkins.

It was suffering and wailing and shame. Wings and claws and pain and death, bodies raining from the sky, all tinged with an ever-present red hue.

You woke up screaming in his arms, and you sobbed into his chest as he whispered words of comfort.

You refused to tell him what was wrong, you didn't even know yourself, but he knew that if it was enough to give you bad dreams, it had to be bad. He insisted that you didn't leave his side for a few days, and then scooped you up and flew you both to the hidden little house at the outskirts of the Upside Down.

While you appreciated the quality time spent with him, soft caresses and kisses in the safe confines of this pseudo-home, quiet time was the last thing you wanted.

Because you just spiraled deeper into your thoughts.

As shocking as the scene in the garage had been, you had seen worse. Of course you had. It didn't mean it was any less shocking. But just the spectacle of it brought up more questions, more...reflection of yourself and the time spent since you'd been back.

Back in Hawkins and back with Eddie.

It was wrong. Everything was wrong. You just...couldn't seem to pinpoint the how's and why's of how wrong everything was.

Especially with what was happening to you.

And you tried to ignore the one word that stood out in your mind: corruption.

The day you found out about your family's legacy--the day that would have been your first communion, had you been anyone else but you--your father had showed you a journal. One of his, one of many, filled with words and lessons and histories.

"It's the journey to goodness," he said. "The chance for salvation. It takes time and effort to fill the book."

Just as he was about to place it in your hands, he took a bottle of black ink from his bag--asshole too dramatic to use a BIC pen--and spilled it on the pages, ruining them. Covering all of his words in darkness. Effectively erasing them.

"And that," he said, dropping the book in your hands, splattering your skin and your pure white communion dress with the dark, wet ink. "That is how easy you destroy it."

You'd read one his journals right after your induction into the Order. The last few entries in the absolute last journal. And while you'd argue he was probably out of his mind to begin with, you saw how mad he'd become in those final days before he'd been killed. His tolerance for the dark and arcane had simply become too much until he could no longer withstand its attack on him.

All of his efforts were lost in one fell swoop; he went straight to Hell.

Except, reading through them all and seeing his descent proved that lesson--the very first lesson--wrong. You didn't lose the battle against the darkness all at once, you sunk into it. You were corrupted by it. Especially when you had no reason to go on, and nothing else to fight for.

Now, looking around the room, at the cozy little house and Eddie seated by the window, you decided that you had plenty to go on for. He had always been your driving force ever since you met him.

So why did it feel like you were sinking into the darkness like your father once had?

You just had to figure out what the fuck was going on first.

You huffed and settled into the mattress and stared at the ceiling so you could think.

Actually think; not overthink.

First something was up with Fred, then Patrick, and now Chrissy and all of the other vampires, it seemed. All different situations, but confusing nonetheless. Concerning. Sure they'd all been...dangerous before but this was...unexpected.

And then what Patrick said. It? He? Lies? What? Who? Which lies? You couldn't make heads or tails of it all; you could make some assumptions but...considering what you witnessed in the garage, what if it was a trap?

Or what if it was just a coincidence?

Or maybe something else you hadn't thought of yet.

There were no celestial bodies here; no sun or moon or stars. What if it was a full moon in Hawkins, and there was some indirect effect that caused some erratic behavior here? What if the Brides--all of the vampires--were all affected like werewolves? What if Eddie was? He seemed normal, as normal as he could be. Besides, he was already biting you enough as it was...

You chuckled involuntarily at the thought and Eddie looked over at you from where he sat strumming on his guitar.

"What's so funny?" he hummed, mouth quirked in a grin.

"You don't feel a sudden and extreme aversion to silver bullets or something, do you?" you asked cheekily and he scoffed.

In a blur the guitar was set aside and Eddie laid his body along yours, face tucked into your neck where he growled and bit you playfully as you squeaked in laughter.

All worries and weakness and woes were forgotten as he filled your heart and body with happiness and affection.

"I thought you liked having a vampire boyfriend," he teased when you wheezed for want of air. "Now you want a werewolf?"

"First off," you heaved, trying to catch your breath. "No. I was just thinking of something stupid, and second no. No penny for my thoughts either! I'm just overthinking things."

"As you usually do, even though I'm sure you told yourself you weren't gonna."

"Touche, asshole."

Eddie laughed wickedly.

"Third," you continued. "I thought we've been over the fact that you're not a vampire."

"Oh right, I'm the king of the vampires, actually," he flashed his fangs at you.

"You," you poked him in the chest. "Are a nerd, Mr. Kas the Bloody Handed."

"Hey no. No. Henderson gave me that name, actually," he reminded you. "You can't blame me for picking it."

"I can blame you for looping him into Hellfire."

"They were playing DnD before."

"Uh huh."

He blew a punishing raspberry onto your throat and you swatted at him as you screamed in faux outrage.

"Fine," he leaned back, straddling your hips, and straightened his posture proudly. "Henceforth, it shall be known that I, Edward J. Munson, am not a vampire."

He waited a moment then leant back down.

"This is where you give me a round of applause," he said in a stage whisper.

You rolled your eyes and clapped half-heartedly.

"I am not," he continued. "Kas the Bloody Handed, or the right hand of the Wicked Lich known as Vecna."

You clapped again.

"I'm not Eddie the Freak either."

"You're Eddie the Asshole," you cupped your hand around your mouth and made a soft boo.

He ignored you and continued.

"No, I am Eddie, Prince of Hell," he announced in a proud and grumbling tone and then held his fingers over his head as false horns and stuck his tongue out at you as he hissed.

It was a gesture he'd made tons of times during your relationship, and before and after too you were sure. Fuck, you'd even done it a few times, at his insistence and of your own volition.

But seeing him now, towering over you, with that wicked gesture, and his claws and those sharp fangs...you froze.

Maybe not in fear.

"And you," he finally leaned back down and grazed his lips over yours softly. "My beautiful angel, so good and righteous, perfect for me to corrupt."

Shit, yes actually, maybe in fear.

He pecked a kiss to your lips and then noticed how still you'd gotten.

"Sweetheart, you ok?" he asked, voice back to normal.

You might not have answered but no, you weren't.

You weren't ok. You couldn't be ok.

You'd just been thinking about Hell and your father and your punishment and your descent. You thought about corruption and...it was like he had pulled the word right from your mind, as though you had broadcasted it loud and clear right across the room.

You suddenly felt that pit inside of you grow wider, you felt yourself sink into it, you felt yourself get weaker. Here in the depths of the Upside Down, so far into nothingness that you didn't even know which direction to go to get back to Hawkins and the gates and salvation, even if you tried.

Eddie called your name and your eyes, that had been staring into nothingness, focused back on him.

You were breathing heavily, hyperventilating.

"Everything's ok," he tried with a weak smile, "it's ok, what happened? It was just a joke."

"It's not a joke!" you snapped at him, voice shrill and accusing. You swallowed hard and closed your eyes. You tried again, softer this time, "you can't joke about that, Eddie. Please. You...you can't."

"I...I didn't."

He sounded hurt, and you bit back the lick of anger that flared up at the thought that he would feel some kind of hurt when he said something so careless. You held back the wrath that seemed to come from that dark void inside of you because he...he didn't deserve it.

You took a few breaths and kept your eyes closed.

You were not a deep breaths kind of girl, you were not one who needed to calm yourself down, typically; your warrior's resolve usually kicked into gear by now, making all of those bad feelings stop, but it was nowhere to be found.

And that made you panic more.

So you thought of the rolling hills around weathertop and 4th of July fireworks and crispy McDonalds hash browns eaten on a rainy day and you thought of...of movies that you guys watched together, huddled together on the couch in the trailer.

You thought of a kiss on your forehead, then each of your eyes, then the tip of your nose, then your lips...

You thought of Eddie, your Eddie who was very much right in front of you, but in some ways...not.

"I wanna go home," you whimpered. No, you wailed. It was a painful, pitiful sound and you held your hands over your mouth as it escaped you. You sniffled. "I have to go home."

Eddie scoffed now, the pain even more evident. "Sweetheart, we are home."

"No," you shook your head and looked up at him. "Hawkins home. The trailer...Rick's...home."

"And what about me?"

"You'll come with me."

"How?" he barked in laughter. "If you hadn't noticed, I'm kind of stuck here."

"Then I'll punch a hole through this fucking universe and haul you across singlehandedly," you said three your hands up defeatedly. "Eddie...I don’t…you asked the other day if I needed a break--"

"Are you breaking up with me?"

"Of course not!"

"Then what is it?" he demanded. In a blink he was on his feet, towering over you even more. "What is this?"

You made the attempt to calm down, to catch your breath for a moment, but he snarled at you. A harsh and wicked sound and you pushed off the mattress and got to your feet.

"Something's wrong with me," you shouted at him. "I don't know if you noticed, I don't know how you didn't, why you wouldn't. But something is wrong and I feel...like if I stay in the Upside Down for much longer I'm going to lose myself Eddie. I'm going to die."

"You're not going to die," he waved a hand dismissively.

"You need to listen to me," you begged.

"You need to listen to me, you're safe here, I'll protect you."

"It's not about protection. It's not about you--"

"Oh the it's not you it's me deal?!"

"Listen Eddie," you stomped your foot petulantly. "Every day I'm here I get weaker, the more I use my power...I lose it. It's been feeling better whenever I get back to Hawkins, but I don't stay for long enough. You already know, I've told you...if I try to connect to the earth here, I feel like I'm trying to jump start a car with a potato instead of an electric current. I'm not meant to be in a place like this."

His eyes were wide and desperate, and you could see the gears turning as he considered your words.

"Why didn't you say something before?" He asked.

"We were making too much progress to get you out," you muttered. "I didn't want to ruin it with my bullshit."

"Dying isn't bullshit, sweetheart. I mean it is. Believe me. But not like that." He pulled you closer, into his arms. "You should have said something."

"I know," you nodded.

"I could have...I don't know what I could have done, but I would have tried."

"It's not too late," you whimpered into his shoulder. "We...maybe I just need a few days to get back to Hawkins and rest."

He got stiff.

"And then," you continued. "And then I can come back and we can--"

"A few days?" he interrupted you. "A...a few days here...or a few days there?"

You backed away from him and stared at the hurt that warped his face into a wicked and pathetic thing. Frustration and anger and confusion all carving lines into his forehead and around his mouth.

"Either," you answered him, and his frown got deeper. "Both. Eddie I'm not...leaving you but I need to leave."

There was a pleading tone in your voice, and you prayed--fuck, you were doing a lot of praying lately, and who damn well knew who heard them, but you still did it--he would understand.

Eddie had always been expressive; always wore his heart on his shoulder, never had a good poker face according to Wayne. The only time you really didn't know what he was thinking was when he was a DM, when he stepped into the role of ultimate control and mastery over his players.

You didn't know right from wrong, truth from lies, good from bad when you were in his domain, in his dungeon.

That was who stood before you now. No Eddie, no Kas, no human, no vampire.

Gone was your boyfriend, and in his place...the Dungeon Master.

"And I," he took a deep breath, "I need you to stay."

You waited until night time.

Or at least, you thought it was night.

Eddie wasn’t lying when he'd mentioned that time didn't exist here; day, night, summer, winter...there was no telling just when you were in the Upside Down.

But you used your best judgment.

You'd planned this for days upon your return from the little house to the mirrored Hawkins; well, plan was a relative term.

You waited for the right opportunity. Bided your time and stewed in your frustration. Especially when Eddie didn't give you a moment of peace alone.

And then when everything was perfect, you could make your escape.

It felt so wrong to think of it as escape. Because that felt like...like you thought Eddie was dangerous, or that you were betraying him. No, you were just...taking a trip. You'd be back once you were better. If anything, you could send Dustin or Wayne to explain. Someone who he would listen to, because he certainly stopped listening to you.

But if you were going to survive, if you were going to recover, you needed to get back to Hawkins.

And tonight was your chance.

It was a miracle in and of itself that Eddie was sound asleep beside you and the house around you silent and still. You peeled yourself from the thick comforter on the bed and then padded out of the room with the lightest footsteps.

You were careful to make as little noise as possible; no shoes, only socks, and you stepped carefully on the floorboards so one wouldn't squeak unexpectedly under your weight. You cast the tiniest bit of your power, what little of it that didn't make you feel like dying, outwards to communicate with the house. If you felt the slightest shift of the floorboards or the support beams or anything, you'd adjust your footing and continue onwards.

You felt a strange sense of nostalgia wash over you; growing up, you usually slept down in Nonna's flat, but some nights you'd be upstairs. Typically when your father was home, so you and your parents could pretend you were a family.

You'd always have nightmares on those nights.

So you'd sneak back down to Nonna's where most of your things were and the bed was more comfortable, but if you weren't careful enough on the back staircase, Nonna would hear. Nonna always heard. You'd open the door to her flat--god, you could hear the sound of the door squeaking now as you crept along the dusty halls of the Creel House--and find her at the kitchen table with milk warming on the stove and soft, soothing words.

You always felt bad for waking her, so you got good at being as quiet and careful as possible. Got good at opening the door silently. Until there came a day--the day you finally left--where she didn't even know you'd gone at all.

You purposely avoided thinking of what you'd do if Eddie woke up; you had a feeling it wouldn't be warm milk and comforting words.

It took until the third turn down an unfamiliar hallway and coming face to face with a staircase that went up instead of down that the dread hit you and the panic began to set in.

You'd been watching the landscape of the Creel House change for weeks now. Little by little the hallways twisted and rooms moved until they became something strange and unfamiliar. At first you believed that it was Eddie making the changes in his boredom; thinking back now, with your endeavors to strengthen his grasp on his abilities, when would he have had the chance? Unless he'd made it even more convoluted in the past few days to keep you in.

Surely the house hadn't made itself a twisted mass like this, could it?

Who else, if not Eddie, could have done this?

If you eliminated all logical solutions, whatever remained, however improbable, must have been true; thanks, Sherlock Holmes.

But why would the house itself do something like this?

To keep intruders out or to keep its residents in?

To keep Eddie in?

To keep you in?

You turned to glance over your shoulder and watched the now-familiar sight of the doors rattling and breathing, one after the other down the hall you'd just walked down, until it reached you and the door nearest you groaned a warning. You felt the vibrations penetrate your aura and shake you to the core.

Stay, it seemed to say with a prolonged creak of wood and metal.

Stay forever, it pleaded.

It commanded.

That broke you from your brief stupor and you turned back on your heel and continued onwards as quickly and as carefully as you could.

Well, you tried.

Your socks kept getting caught on nails that seemed to sprout unexpectedly from the floorboards, like the dastardly prickling weeds in a garden. You winced as a spur in the metal of the handrail cut into your skin as you shuffled down a flight of stairs. You tripped at the bottom of one set of stairs, when you were sure the next step would be flat floor, but in a blink you had several steps to go, so you faltered and fell.

The dull thud of your heels against the worn carpet runner when you landed and found your footing made your heart stop in your chest.

You cast your divine sense outwards now, wincing at the feeling akin to a pulled muscle that radiated throughout your body, and you waited, hoping...praying that you wouldn't sense anyone or anything stir at the noise.

Should it have been a surprise that your prayers went unanswered? You really needed to stop doing that if it was gonna come bite you in the ass so much.

You didn't see any of it, didn't hear any of it, but you sensed it.

Groans and muffled infernal speech and wings and chitters and teeth snapping. Things hit the side of the house and then crawled their way inwards.

But you didn't feel Eddie, not yet at least...

Not until there there was a single, earsplitting snarl that echoed from above and the walls practically shuddered around you, like a sinister laugh as the house gleefully anticipated your punishment.

You didn't give him a chance, didn't give any of it a chance. You dropped your shoes down to step into them and then you ran.

You were already on the ground floor of the house; you could make it to the gate if you hurried. You felt a lump in your throat as you heard thundering footsteps above and more screeching; you were grateful that, at the very least, the maze that the house had become would hinder your pursuers just like it had hindered you.

Down this hallway and that, through one room and then another, until you saw the cracked door with the stained glass rose hanging off of its hinges, and finally you were outside. You could see the flowing gate, you could practically taste freedom, healing light, Hawkins.

Home.

But then you watched in horror as the fissured ground surrounding the gate began to rumble and churn and seal itself.

If Eddie hadn't realized that you were gone before, by some slim chance...he knew now.

You dashed across the wicked altar and past the empty pillars as far forward as you could to get to a portion of the gate before Eddie sealed it. You threw a hand out towards it to try and solidly anchor one point along the seam to stop him, to give yourself a chance.

You stumbled to a halt, shoes sliding into the dirt as you felt the practically unstoppable force of his power crash into yours. It shook you to the core, made your entire being vibrate, your teeth clatter, the marrow of your bones quake.

You gritted your teeth and dug your feet in the ground as you held him back; it was a battle of wills, because at this point you knew he was stronger, but you were a stubborn piece of shit and you weren't going to give this up so easily.

"Eddie stop," you grunted, as though he could hear you. His will to shut the gate let up for a moment, and then slammed back into your will to stop him. "Stop this. You need to let me go!”

I can explain, you wanted to tell him. Just let me go and I'll explain everything. I don't want to go; I have to go.

Even unspoken, it seemed he could hear those thoughts, feel those thoughts.

His response? A desperate and resounding no.

Instead of all of his power being concentrated on the gate, you felt the ground beneath you begin to move. It rumbled and cracked, and you faltered in your footing as it tilted with a sudden shift. Your focus on the gate broke, and the glowing crack continued to seal itself.

You felt that wicked, wrathful feeling that you'd suppressed the past few days grow in your chest again. How dare he not listen, how dare he claim to love you and then refuse to listen. A watch as you faded before his eyes, watch as his creatures encroached on you, watch as you died...and did nothing about it because he didn't want to lose you. Even for a day.

"Well fuck you too then," you muttered and you pivoted on the uneven ground and started running again, away from the Creel House, away from the gate.

Into the woods.

You used that wrathful feeling to kickstart a spark of strength, the way you'd been teaching Eddie not to do over the past few weeks, and you used that strength to become faster, swifter, more agile. Your footing became sure as you dodged branches and hopped over the viney, tentacle-laden ground.

The Upside Down was still in Eddie's control, he could find where you were if he wanted to, but you weren't going to make it easy for him.

Snarls and screeches and howls began to sound around you, as the creatures of the Upside Down were called to action and you felt their dark presences begin to close the distance between you.

Bats overhead, demogorgons running, their footsteps almost in tandem with yours.

You vaguely wondered if the purpose of this swarm was to catch you or to kill you. Did they all know? Did Eddie? If the Brides had all begun to act more unpredictable and predatory, outside of Eddie's command, what about all of these beasts? Had they slipped from his control too? Were you in even more danger now?

Feral red lightning flashed ominously overhead as you crossed the protective cover of the forest and turned onto a long and broken road; in fact, the whole sky had seemed to turn a shocking crimson instead of the murky, misty grey-blue that it had been the entire time you'd been here.

Like an ominous warning that there'd be blood shed on this night, whether you liked it or not.

You dodged the hoard of beasts as much as you could along an open stretch of road like this; what small bit of telekinetic energy you had was used to distract those that got close enough, rather than attack. Tree branches falling, car horns going off. Still, several bats and one demodog got their attacks in.

Sharp claws and teeth scratched at you, one bat's tail sliced across your throat in a stinging blow but you conjured enough strength to whip it away and through the jagged broken windshield of a car on the side of the road.

You were thankful that you were so successful in your ability to dodge them and steer them away from your desired path, until you crossed back into the woods again. Then all bets seemed to be off.

Your powers began to fail, your strength suddenly gone. That rage inside of you started to fizzle out and you felt the fatigue of running take its toll on you. Muscles twinging, lungs straining, even more than they usually did. A cold sweat broke out on your brow and the back of your neck, but you kept pushing further and further.

There wasn't that much to go; you began to recognize the nearby roads just up ahead through the trees, although you didn't dare follow them. If only you could get to this dimension's facsimile of Rick's House, and the barren Lover's Lake, before Eddie caught up to you, you'd be safe.

But what had Dustin said weeks ago? Eddie was some master strategist, that's why Vecna relied on him to be his right hand.

So it shouldn't have been a shock when a large, winged figure dropped to the ground just a few yards ahead of you, taking down branches and leaves and vines on its descent. You let out a broken shriek and skidded to a halt.

Patrick stood to his full height, wings outstretched and flapping in warning, then took a step towards you. For a moment, you saw his expression soften, just the way it had when you'd found him at the gate the other day, before it hardened again.

"Sweetheart," he cooed at you. Eddie cooed at you. "Why are you running from me? Why are you running away?"

You panted and looked around; you could hear other sets of large wings flapping overhead and several sets of racing footsteps gaining ground behind you. You'd be surrounded if you didn't act soon.

Your mind raced as you tried to consider what you could use to your advantage here in this place that you had no advantage at all. You were weaponless, you were weak. If you tried to attack Patrick with what little of your power you had left, you'd be empty.

But what could you do...yeah you were a Knight, but your power was lost to you here. Heaven was lost to you here. You were only Human.

And that's when it hit you.

Eddie might have been the Dungeon Master and a master strategist but even a player could trick a DM. He had told you that himself. And although you had only played DND a handful of times, you had real world experience in battle and victory against a dark foe.

How many dastardly dark villains' grand plans had you foiled? How many other strategies had you subverted? How many times had you saved innocent lives with your light?

You were certainly holy, but when it came down to it, no holy power could save you or stop them. If God wanted something destroyed, He could have sent His angels, could have done the job Himself.

Only He didn't. He relied on Humans.

Cunning and crafty. Weak and imperfect.

Just like you.

And Eddie.

And, despite the transformation that came with his resurrection, Patrick.

He'd shown you how human he was the other day when he cried for his family.

"Why do you want to leave me?" You turned back to him just in time to see Patrick scream and lunge for you. You did the most instinctive thing you could: you held your hands out to stop him, you shielded yourself.

It wouldn't do much to stop him--as strong as he was and as weak as you were--but it bought you time to think, time to feel. Especially as everything slowed down around you. You didn't feel the ground or the sky or all of the tricks you'd tried to teach Eddie over the past few weeks. It was all incompatible to you.

No, you felt Patrick himself. Physically. As he inched closer, as his claws grazed your skin so he could grab you, you let yourself feel for all of the parts of him that were still human.

Because those parts were not of this world, they were of your world.

His skin, his muscles, his tears, his heart. His soul. You felt the little electric currents that made his synapses fire, made him move, made him feel. They were all of the things that you were made of too. So if you just gave a little, you could take a lot.

The moment his fangs pierced your flesh and slashed across your arm, you willingly let yourself go into shock. Let your body go cold, let your limbs lose all feeling, let your lungs deflate as you lost your breath.

Once you were well and truly vulnerable--once Patrick's hunger took control and he pulled a mouthful of your life force--you pushed all of it outwards and shocked him. Sent a pulse of panic and pain and numbness into him like a wave, until every part of him seized.

His eyes widened for a moment, and then they drooped. The dead weight of his unconscious form fell onto you, sending you crashing to the ground.

"Fuck," you hissed and tried to push him off of you as you regained the autonomic control of all your bodily functions.

Well, that wasn't what you wanted to happen, but in all honesty, you didn't know what to expect. Not for it to work as thoroughly as it had, at least.

"You know what, I didn't shit myself or have a heart attack," you sighed as you finally got free. "That should count for something."

The racing beat of footsteps were approaching, and the wings overhead much louder; you needed to move. But as you pushed yourself onto your hands and knees so you could stand, you came face to face with the wide, panting, petal-like mouth of a demodog.

You immediately flashed back to '84, to the tunnels, to Dart roaring in your face until Dustin subdued him. But there was no Dustin here, and this wasn't dart; this was one of Eddie's hoard of creatures--Vecna's army.

It was over.

You closed your eyes and waited for the attack, the roar. For the bite...but it never came.

The demodog whined and sniffed curiously, then closed its mouth to be more cone-like and nudged its head against yours. Your eyes shot open and you stared at it; it tilted its head to one side and then the other, then opened its mouth again to pant.

"What are you..." you muttered and it leant its head down to huff around your arms. You winced as you believed it to be looking for your wounded arm or any of the other cuts or scratches along your body, but instead it nudged its cone-like head against your hand. Over and over until you finally brought it up and rested it against the creature's head. "Cerberus."

As though you had the time to spare, you gave Eddie's little friend the pets it desired, and as you did, you felt a familiar sense of calm wash over you. A calm that you typically felt around Eddie.

Goodness, silliness, love and companionship. All of the things you associated with Eddie, poured into this...dog thing.

You worried, for a moment, that this was some kind of trap. That Eddie was luring you into a false sense of security until one of the other Brides could swoop in, but it never happened.

In fact, several twigs snapped in the forest around you, and Cerberus abandoned your comforting touch to growl at the potential threat.

It growled and roared and snapped its mouth as you got up and it backed against your leg once you were upright. It followed you, kept up with your pace--as fast as you could go--as you jogged through the trees and jumped over the tentacles on the ground.

Cerberus was even careful of his steps, and if you decided to weave and change direction, it would run ahead and wait for you if the coast was clear.

It was nice, you realized, not to be alone.

You didn't know whether to feel relief or dread when Rick's house, and the glowing gate the bisected Lover's Lake behind it, finally came into view. Because along the path to your escape, a veritable swarm of creatures roamed.

Demogorgons slowly slunk back and forth, bats flew overhead, a pack of demodogs--not the friendly kind like Cerberus seemed to be--paced back and forth around the house.

"Well," you sighed down to Cerberus. "What should we do?"

As though it would answer.

But Cerberus understood, at the very least, and if you had thought it had been very Eddie-like in its temperament and the feelings that surrounded it, the actions it took next were taken right from the Eddie Munson playbook.

Cerberus started growling and hissing and spitting, and the swarm of creatures all began to stir and look around.

"What the--"

It started taking a few steps away from you, growling as you made the attempt to follow which made you pause, and then it started running, right towards Rick's house, right towards the swarm. You could see your little friend roar and get the other creatures riled up, and just when you expected them to turn back on you, maybe attack, they began to follow it away from the house.

Away from the gate.

Away from you.

The demogorgons, the bats, the other demodogs were all hot on its heels, and you wondered briefly if it had enough consciousness and awareness to pretend, to divert their attention and offer a distraction. Or if it had sacrificed itself, if your scent or imprint on the beast had spurred the others to chase and attack it, knowing that it had allied itself with you.

And you got the flashes of Eddie's memory of luring the swarm of bats away from the trailer and Dustin so he and Hawkins could survive.

Eddie Munson and Cerberus were both heroes.

You said a quick prayer for safety--and maybe in apology for your little friend's sacrifice--but you didn't let the opening Cerberus gave you go to waste. You ran, first for the house, and then down the sloped backyard towards the lake.

A few stragglers that hadn't followed Cerberus were taken care of with various levels of difficulty. You were close enough to the gate that you could practically taste the power that Hawkins offered on the other side, so you drew what strength you could to burn through a bat that swooped down to bite into your limbs. Or deliver an uncharacteristically hard kick into the side of a pouncing demodog and send it soaring.

Each defensive move left you feeling a little more drained but hopeful, because you were almost there.

That hope was only amplified as you watched the gate begin to glow and gape, just a few yards in front of you. The maw opened wider and wider until an arm jutted out, then a head and torso.

Until Wayne Munson and his worn jacket and shotgun finally emerged from the hole.

"Wayne," you called to him, cried to him, desperately. "You're here. How...wh--"

"Honey, what the Hell--"

You pumped your legs faster until your body slammed into his and your arms wound around him.

"What the hell happened," he repeated, trying to push you away. "You're bleeding? And the sky..."

There wasn't time for an explanation, but someone somewhere seemed to be looking out for you if he was here.

You quickly questioned how he knew to come.

"It was the darnedest thing," he shook his head. "I was sound asleep and then there was this...scratching on the side of the house. Shook the foundation if you could believe it. Went outside, found the siding all torn up and thought it had to be...the bats or the demogorgons or something. Imagine my surprise..."

He backed away from you and tucked his hand into the front of his jacket, then quickly extracted a grumpy-looking lump of grey fur and whiskers.

"...when all I found was this little kitty sitting on the porch."

Something softened in both you and Lucy when you locked eyes, and she leaned her head into your touch as you went to scratch between her ears.

"You're a little troublemaker, huh Lou?" you asked as she purred. "First you chase after Fred and now you're waking Wayne up in the middle of the night?"

She stared at you with all-knowing eyes, as if to say you actually got yourself into these messes and I'm just here to help.

"Glad she did," Wayne scoffed. "I went over to the kitchen to see if I had any tuna and I saw the god damned gate glowing again. There was a bunch of smoke. Decided to come investigate and Lou here wouldn't leave me alone until I scooped her up and brought her with."

You were about to make a joke along the lines of curiosity killed the cat when large wings flapped overhead and you and Wayne turned to find that you weren't alone anymore.

First Fred made his descent, swooping low enough overhead that you and Wayne had to duck to avoid his claws.

Then Chrissy in an elegant flutter.

And finally, a vengeful-looking Heather appeared behind them, dislocated jaw practically detached altogether when she roared at you upon landing. Her long prehensile tongue flailed and she spat bile blood and spit across the distance.

"Dear Lord," Wayne dropped Lucy--whose hackles were immediately raised at the dangerous appearance of the three bat-creatures--softly to the ground so he could cock his shotgun and aim it at them.

"The Lord can't save you here Uncle Wayne," Chrissy taunted him and took a step closer, wings dragging along the dirt behind her lazily. Those weren't Eddie's words spoken through her; he wouldn't talk to his uncle like that. Hell, it didn't even sound like the Chrissy you had become familiar with; it was whatever had been in control in the garage. "I don't even think you can save yourself."

There was a thud and a shuffle behind you and you turned, now back to back with Wayne, to find three more vampires there. Ones you'd recognized from Chrissy's little orgy: Bob, Doris, and Janet in various stages of desiccation and decay.

For the first time all night, there wasn't just fight or flight. There was true fear.

Because you were surrounded.

You knew there were more vampires out there. If these six had gotten the jump on you, were the rest stealthily waiting for their opportunity to strike overhead. And moreover...where was Eddie?

Doris screeched impatiently in front of you and Lucy quickly shuffled at your feet so she could hiss in return. You tried to shush her, tried to lean down and pick her up to keep her safe but she batted at you too, and then turned back to the creatures.

"Hey now, let's take it easy," Wayne spoke softly. You felt him shift as he, presumably, lowered the shotgun. "I didn't come here to cause any trouble. Just came to see Eddie."

"Bit convenient," Fred chuckled sardonically. "You make your little visit on the same night she tried to run away."

"I don't think she was running away," Wayne responded. "She's due to come back any time now, aren't you honey. Get some supplies?" He didn't wait for you to speak before he continued his spieling. Trying to buy time, you hoped.

The banter went back and forth, but you focused on Lou and the threat in front of you and how you could possibly use the beings that surrounded you--earthly or infernal it didn't matter--to your advantage if anyone attacked.

Wayne asked where Eddie was, curious enough for the both of you. And a collective laughter shook all 6 vampires around you.

"He's a little busy, actually," Fred sneered. "Dealing with a traitor."

You clenched your jaw and fought through the tears that burned your eyes.

Did he mean Cerberus? Or was it all a ruse? Surely if Eddie wanted to stop you from leaving, he would come to get you himself. Deal with this himself. Instead of going to punish his friend for helping you. But if he trusted his creations to feed him your location...and they were out of his control...

"He'll be here soon enough," Chrissy hummed, sounding a little too sure of herself, like the cat that got the canary.

Wayne relaxed for a moment and scoffed kindheartedly, the way a neighbor would; you bit back whatever swear was at the tip of your tongue. The Munsons and their distractions.

"Say now, you're the Cunningham girl aren't you? Saw your mom at Bradley's the other day."

"That's not gonna help," you muttered over your shoulder.

"Can't hurt to try," he shrugged.

Yes, actually. It could.

You didn't know who made the first move; probably Heather if she thought Wayne was preoccupied with Fred and Chrissy. She thought, as though the distraction was anything other than a product of the hive mind. But someone made a move, which made Wayne raise the shotgun again and take a shot as quickly as he could.

There was a wet, popping sound and a roar, and then chaos followed.

It was a flurry of wings and teeth and infernal words. Lightning flashed in the sky overhead and the ground quaked around you, causing your footing to falter.

So you were right; the Upside Down itself was suddenly a player in the game.

Wayne reloaded the shotgun with rounds from his jacket pocket to take pot shots at whatever vampire he could.

Heather and Chrissy were quick to launch an aerial attack, much like they had in the square. They dodged Wayne's shots and dived to hide within the safety of the gates before emerging. Chrissy was slower-- Wayne's first shot having hit her--and used the apparent disadvantage to their benefit. Wayne kept trying to finish the job with her while Heather made diving attacks to swipe at you.

You tried pulling the same stunt that you'd done on Patrick to incapacitate both Bob and Doris. They had been unsuspecting in their power as they both seemed like candidates to be the weakest of the group, but given the amount of human parts that you could sense left in them--precious little compared to the others--you were glad to take care of them first. Doris practically melted when you sent the shockwave through her, energy pulled from all of the vampires collectively.

It took more to take Bob out, though. He resisted a few more moments and took several more steps. You cried out and fell to the ground as he slashed at you, claws gouging deep across your thorax, before he went down himself.

And somewhere in that mess, was Lucy.

Little Lucy. The sweet, grey, short-haired cat who you and Eddie had fed tuna to once upon a time and whose favor had been won, apparently, til the end of time. Who dodged the footsteps and claws and shots until she had the chance to swipe at assailants as an attack of her own.

Queen Lucy. Small but brave and mighty. Like her namesake Lucy Pevensie.

Who suddenly grew with each growl and hiss, whose claws dug deep into the ground, whose back seemed to grow sharp, long spines until she was large and imposing and terrifying to behold.

You watched her transformation in awe as your hand pressed against your wounds, and somewhere deep down inside you the words I told you so bubbled and threatened to burst from you.

Because you had told Eddie, once upon a time, that Lucy wasn't just a cat. No she was a great, fabled predator and protector.

Lucy was a Splintercat.

Her tiny meow was suddenly a thunderous roar, and she immediately went on the offensive. She pounced and clawed at the vampires as they tried to take to the air, batting them off course and shredding their wings. In some wild maneuver, she somehow impaled Fred along her spiney back and then scraped his barely-living carcass off on the trunk of a nearby tree, a possible feast once you won this fight.

If you could win this fight.

But you would not.

The rest of it was a blur. Literally.

You were on the ground, losing blood fast; you drew power from everything that you could around you to try and keep yourself stable but the radiating pain from Bob's attack only made the use of your abilities harder.

You watched helplessly as Lou chased and pounced after Janet, who had set her sights on your prone and rapidly-weakening form, and Heather decided it was the perfect chance to strike, with your protector distracted. Wayne, of course, offered some cover. He took one shot, then another to try and stop her.

Suddenly, a loud, demon-like screech rang across the barren lake as Eddie's large, infernal, monstrous form appeared. He dropped down on heavy feet and his eyes flashed dangerously as he surveyed the scene before him, softening only when he spotted you on the ground, wounded and, yeah you could admit, probably bleeding out.

You whispered his name pathetically as Lucy took a more protective position, placing herself between you, other vampires forgotten as a much more powerful adversary had arrived.

Eddie roared and screeched again, and everything stopped. Heather and Janet dropped and fell to the ground at his feet. Even Fred, with his mangled body, seemed to clasp his hands as he begged.

Chrissy, though, seemed to ignore his orders. Her sights were set on her prey and she would have her fill.

With the ear-splitting sound that echoed across the lake at Eddie's arrival, Wayne had dropped his shotgun to cover his ears. And the lack of defense was perfect for Chrissy's attack. She swooped down and grabbed him, then soared upwards; her clawed hands and feet pierced through his body as her fangs ripped deep into his throat and she quenched her thirst.

You screamed for him, and Eddie's eyes tore away from you and locked straight onto them.

He took to the skies to chase after Chrissy, and Lucy saw it as the perfect distraction to take advantage of. Her wide mouth--damn, she was a lot bigger up-close--scooped you up like a much smaller cat would the carcass of a bird or a rodent. She was as gentle as she could be but you still felt the prickles of her sharp teeth pierce through your clothes and skin.

And as she turned and bounded for the gate, you watched in horror as Eddie finally reached Chrissy and fought to subdue her.

In his rage, Eddie seemed to forget the most important thing.

In their tussle, Chrissy let Wayne go to protect herself from her master.

And you watched helplessly as Wayne fell, fell, fell.

It was a mess of slashes and claws and wings, flailing silhouettes against the carmine backdrop that was the sky.

Just like your nightmare.

The last thing you heard before it all went black, was the sickening crunch as Wayne's body hit the ground.

“So it’s true, when all is said and done, grief is the price we pay for love.” - E. A. Bucchianeri

Next Chapter: Miserere Mei

[wizardsix]

so I'm wondering what the general consensus is on the companion relationships bc from what ive seen so far they're so lackluster compared to the previous games.

(putting the rest under the cut bc this got unintentionally long...)

and you know what? yeah, I will compare it to bg3, bc I vividly remember so many developers, including bioware ones, being against bg3 being the standard. maybe they meant graphically or scale wise, but it's obvious that we meant the diversity of choices and quality/depth of the companions. larian made it a point that they wanted the relationships to be complex, it wasn't about pressing all the right dialogue for approval, and that sometime you have to challenge your friend's beliefs, sometimes you have to argue w loved ones. and when it came to romance, it was especially stressed that sex wasn't the end goal like so many other games have treated romance.

so yeah, the veilguard companions are disappointing, because it is a massive step backwards from their previous complex companions. you can't be friends, you can't be rivals, and you certainly can't have any kind of deep or complex romance. you don't even have a say in recruiting these people. there's no options for any kind of player, because bioware clearly only had a very specific player in mind. no matter what you do, it forces the illusion of friendship with characters you might not even like, it forces you to be nice and supportive no matter what, stripping the player of the agency and roleplay we were promised.

and there's the part I'm the most sore about. if bioware wanted a more linear game with a more fixed protagonist, fine, but 1) da2 exists and there was still more choice there, and 2) don't fucking lie about it. bioware lied up and down about this game for ten years straight and everyone just accepted it right up to release day. we shouldn't have to accept the bare minimum, especially from a $90cad game. that's money most people don't have to spare anymore, the least you could do is be honest about what people are paying for, especially when those who will buy it are faithful dragon age fans who thought this game was going to be faithful back and finally give them answers about the world they cared so much about.

(and don't get me wrong, larian isn't perfect either and I've made a lot of posts criticising them too, but bg3s success shows that people Do appreciate depth of choice and complex companions (see astarion's success))

to me, it feels like they only included romance bc the previous games had it and they knew people wanted it, but they didn't really care for it or just ultimately had no idea Why these romances worked. I don't get any feeling of care or effort went into these relationships (minus emmrich, but especially with lucanis') and it continues to puzzle me as to why writers even bother writing stuff they don't like or care for. and I don't want to assume it's just for money, bc I want to hope people actually do care about the work they do, so im not saying that, but it definitely doesn't feel good. I've said this before and I'll say it again, I would rather have a few characters with depth in friendship/rivalry with no romance, rather than ones that clearly have depth but is never explored. it's so frustrating to see wasted potential and it's even more frustrating to have my time and money wasted.