#not the happiest story to share on christmas day but what can you do…

[anotherhumaninthisworld]

hebert had a wife and daughter?

Indeed he had!

Hébert’s wife’s name was Marie Marguerite Françoise Goupil. I haven’t found better information regarding her birth more than that it happened in Paris in ”the first days of 1756” (she was in other words one year older than her future husband). I also haven’t found out which of her three names was her first name, though all texts I’ve checked settle on Françoise, so I’m also going to call her that.

Françoise, according to Paris révolutionnaire: vieilles maisons, Vieux papiers (1903) was the only child of Jacques Goupil and his second wife Marie-Louise Morel. The former had been the owner of a not very successful lingerie business which his wife then took over after his death. When Marie-Louise died as well, on July 16 1781, she had for a while lived with and worked as a nurse for the abbot Vaudair, who it is possible her daughter then turned to when she a while later started working for religion. Françoise became a nun of the Couvent des Filles de la Conception on rue Saint-Honoré, the same convent where Élisabeth Duplay claimed she and her three sisters took their first communion.

In June 1790, municipal commissioners presented themselves at the convent to hear its inhabitants’ declaration on whether they would stay there or leave. Out of the 24 nuns, only Françoise responded that ”she could not make up her mind at the moment,” the other 23 declaring that ”faithful to their wishes, they wanted to live and die in their state as nuns.” A year later, July 1 1791, Françoise’s name no longer featured among the convent’s inhabitants, meaning she had left it, be that out of free will or her sisters kicking her out for what she had said the previous year.

Hébert’s fellow journalist Louis Marie Prudhomme claimed in his l’Histoire générale et impartiale des erreurs, des fautes et des crimes commis pendant la Révolution (1797) that it was while at La Société Fraternelle des Patriotes de l'un et l'autre sexe Françoise for the first time met her future husband. Their wedding was held in the parish of Saint-Gervais on February 7 1792 (see the image below). After the marriage, the couple settled on Rue Saint-Antoine.

According to the same Prudhomme, Hébert was however not heads over heels in love with his wife:

[Hébert] married more to appear to have carried out an act of good citizenship than out of esteem and love for his wife. Nevertheless, they got along quite well, although she was ugly. It was a large spider that came out of the convent of the Assumption or the Annunciation. […] A wonderful revolutionary frenzy took hold of the couple, and they were faced with the people, who shouted bravo!

Hébert’s own letters would however appear to contradict this:

My situation, although difficult given the immensity of occupations with which I am responsible, becomes happier every day. I must inform you, my good friends, of the alliance that I am contracting with a very amiable young lady of excellent character. It would be enough of these advantages and were she devoid of all resources, the one I love would not be any less dear to me; but to fill my happiness I find enough fortune with my wife to be reassured about her fate if death separates us. I therefore ask you, my dear sister, to give me your approval and to ask the same from Boissierre. […] I am very assured that you will sympathize with my lovable pretender. She is very spiritual. Speaking in the old style I would say that she is comme il faut, but as I have been assured that you are as patriotic as me I only use constitutional expressions. This demoiselle is called Goupil: she has spent her entire life in the convent up until now. By her personal qualities and by the advantages she enjoys she could claim to someone much richer than me; but my good fortune gave me preference over several competitors. You see, my good friend, that not everything in life is bad and that fate has finally tired of persecuting me and through consistency I have been able to create a pleasant and lucrative position for myself. Hébert in an undated letter to his sister, written somewhere in 1791

I am healthy and very happy. United with a woman who combines all the good qualities with the charms of the mind, whose education is completed, whose character is perfect, I lead the sweetest and most peaceful life. Hébert in an undated letter to his sister, written somewhere in 1792

Réné Desgenettes, who in his memoirs claimed to have met Hébert in late 1791 (though it was most likely early 1792) also hints at a loving relationship:

After my return to Paris, by the end of 1791, I had met at la Grave, or rather under the Saint-Jean arch, my fellow patriot and almost fellow student Hébert, who showed me with satisfaction his feelings over seeing me again, how much he had often regretted that I had been absent from the capital during the first days of the revolution. ”You would have surely played an important role,” he told me, ”but now that you’re here everything is almost over. I live pretty close to this place, rue Saint-Antoine, opposite the passage of this name, which leads to rue du Roi des Deux-Siciles. My little apartment is on the third floor at the front. I have not at all forgotten your constant kindness or what I owe you. I want to speak of money so generously lent, because I would not dare to recall and could not count how much you often gave me at the traitors of the rue de la Parcheminerie, de Mâcon and de la Grille du Carrousel. Without you and the honest patriots from rue des Noyers, I would have starved to death… I can’t say, monsieur, which hours I will be at home, where I still dine everyday, and where I would consider myself both happy and honored to find you. But you will be sure to always find my wife there, because I’m married. Madame Hébert is a former nun from Conception-Saint-Honoré, young and very spiritual. Despite her burning patriotism, she has kept a lot of piety, and considering I love her so much, I never contradict her on this point, contenting myself with a few jokes.” I never answered to this invitation, nor did I find the occasion to see Hébert again after the end of 1791.

From the summer of 1792, we have two letters Françoise wrote to her husband’s sister, which they too seem to indicate a happy marriage:

To mademoiselle Hébert the older in Alençon Paris, 24 July 92 We were firmly convinced, my husband and I, that you received the newspaper as well as Mr. Desnos. M. Hébert had taken all the necessary means for this; but we had the misfortune of associating ourselves with the biggest rascal in Paris, who deceives us in every way. It is therefore not surprising that you were deprived of the papers he was responsible for sending you. We are ready to leave him and you will receive what you want without fail, I hope. We would already be on top of our affairs without this man, hardly worthy of a partner as upright as my husband, who has been fooled ever since he started working; but whose well-known probity and frankness made an infinitely honest young man desire his association. So we will work through new charges and I hope that this time we will not be unsuccessful. If M. Hébert is good enough to make his happiness consist in having me, it is indeed me, mademoiselle, who without grace can certify that I am perfectly happy with he who never ceases to everyday give me new proofs of his tenderness. I have carried a precious token of him in my belly for three months now, he wants the child to look like me, and I want it to look like its father, this, mademoiselle, is the continual subject of our differences. We agree more willingly on the desire to have you as a witness of our love, it will not be up to us unless it happens soon. You are very worried about the dangers of the fatherland. They are imminent, we cannot hide them: we are betrayed by the court, by the leaders of the armies, by a large part of the members of the assembly; many people despair; but I am far from doing so, the people are the only ones who made the revolution. It alone will support her because it alone is worthy of it. There are still incorruptible members in the assembly, who will not fear to tell it that its salvation is in their hands, then the people, so great, will still be so in their just revenge, the longer they delay in striking the more it learns to know its enemies and their number, the more, according to me, its blows will only strike with certainty and  only fall on the guilty, do not be worried about the fate of my worthy husband. He and I would be sorry if the people were enslaved to survive the liberty of their fatherland, I would be inconsolable if the child I am carrying only saw the light of day with the eyes of a slave, then I would prefer to see it perish with me. I gave Mde Pelletier the papers for you that I haven't through up much since M. Desnos left. I have the most ardent desire to see you. Mademoiselle and dear sister Your very humble servant Goupil… Hébert My husband tenderly embraces you as well as your sister, whom I beg you to accept the assurance of my very sincere feelings.

To Mademoiselle Hébert the older.  Rue de la Mairie, Alençon, département de l'Orne.  Mademoiselle and dear sister-in-law, I don't know what to attribute your long silence since last time I had the pleasure of writing to you; but it surprises and distresses me, I would have already complained if my since five months back very bad health would have left me that possibility. My husband, who was chosen by his section to serve as city commissioner on the night between August 9 and 10, has run the greatest of risks. He had the pleasure of rendering services to his fatherland, and always with that noble disinterestedness that you know from him. He has done and still does good without respite, he has seen and still sees intrigue rise up, and modestly remains Père Duchesne, a poor newspaper seller. He stood for election and was undoubtedly well worthy of becoming a member of the Convention; but he believed he had to hide nothing of the truth, more than once he made the intriguer who enjoyed a great reputation turn pale, he seemed too pure and too formidable to those who had influence in the nominations, and to the great astonishment of the brave sans-culottes, he himself is still a brave sans-culotte, which is enough for my happiness. Satisfied to know my husband was worthy and capable of doing anything to be satisfied, his hands remained pure like his soul and were not soaked in the blood that flowed in the prisons. For my part, I suffered from such a great horror that I almost lost my life; I believe that the law alone can strike down the guilty, and until then I will cover them with my body. All that can console me in this tragic event is that the names of those who are its authors are already in execration and that history by transmitting them to posterity will justify the people of Paris who has lost nothing (it must be said) of its urbanity. You would oblige me infinitely if you could tell me if the former Viscount the huntsman Lord of Carrouge has emigrated. I suspect that he has and if I was certain of it I would put an opposition against his property as he owes le 600 livres. My husband, who loves you very tenderly, says a thousand tender things to you and to your sister, and I ask you to believe me, both of you, with a very sincere attachment. Mademoiselle and dear sister-in-law . Your very humble, . Servant G... HÉBERT. My address from now on will be: Cour des Miracles rue de Bourbon Ville Neuve.

A few months later, Réné Desgenettes claimed to have run into Hébert and been invited to dinner yet again, and this time he did follow through with it, resulting in this very long anecdote:

On February 24 1793, I spotted him, on rue Saint-Honoré, part of the procession bringing the remains of Pelletier de St-Fargeau to the Panthéon. […] Hébert, who had noticed me as well, dispatched himself from the group, approached me, shook my hand roughly and said: ”Where in the devil’s name do you live?”

”Rue du Paradis au Marais, n. 3.”

”I have important things to tell you and still live on rue St-Antoine.”

I still refrained from visiting Hébert. However, after a very few days, I learned that a gentleman of fairly good appearance, well dressed and calling himself substitute deputy of the Commune, had come to ask for me, and that he seemed upset for not having met me. Thinking there was no way to back down, the next day, around five o’clock, I went home to Hébert, where I found his wife, the former sister Goupille [sic], who, while waiting for her husband, occupied herself with preparing a rather delicate dinner, because the orator loved good food. Madame Hébert received me very well and told me her husband so many times had spoken of me with affection, that we were two old acquaintances. I approached to contemplate an engraving based on the beautiful painting by Titian or Paul Veronese, showing Jesus Christ with two of his disciples at Emma��s’, when I noticed that Hébert below it had written: the sans-culotte Jesus dining with two of his disciples in the castle of a ci-devant…

”Here you see,” Madame Hébert told me, ”one of these bad jokes my husband often allows himself to make against religion, as a result of a detestable habit I have no hopes of curling him from... I am, monsieur, very much attached to Christianity… It’s our religion at its most beautiful, because I don’t subscribe to everything… I preach to the Jacobins, in the society of our sisters, the same doctrine that abbot Fauchet preach to our brothers at their reunions. He is a great and true apostle who inspired me with a perception of the enthusiasm which animates him, and I have reason to believe that he is also not dissatisfied with the zeal with which I seek to imitate him. I know all the advantages that the Bishop of Calvados has for me; he owes them to nature and to his superior talents, because he is a very handsome man, and everyone agrees that he is also very eloquent.”

Hébert arrived at six o’clock. Before sitting down at the table, where we then stayed for three hours, he took from a secretary a certain number of gold francs, which he handed over to me like an old debt with a thousand thanks. […] 

Let us [said Hébert] speak a bit about Alençon and the first time of our youth. Madame Hébert will see that I have hidden nothing from her about the time of my life when it has been claimed that I was a scoundrel. You surely remember, monsieur, that upon leaving college, where I quite simply had the well-deserved reputation of being lazy and mischievous, I had the misfortune, or perhaps the good fortune, to fall out with la justice? 

R.D.G: I remember it well. 

Madame Hébert: But that is always very grave. 

Hébert: This was also very grave, because the bailiwick of Alençon condemned me to banishment; but I appealed to the parliament of Rouen, which did not confirm the sentence of the first judges.

Madame Hébert: I’ve only ever known of this in a rough and very imperfect way.

Hébert: Well, you will know, my good friend, that in the town where monsieur and I were born, women have always had a great reputation for gallantry. Now the widow of an apothecary, who had been accused of bigamy, had in turn many lovers. In the front line there was a doctor who was very handsome, and after him, living under the same roof as the lady, was her premier garçon, as they expressed it then, and then finally the man who managed the very busy pharmacy. A rivalry which existed secretly between the doctor and the pharmasist broke out one day with so much fury that the doctor murdered his rival...

Madame Hébert: The horror! How did he kill him? 

Hébert: The doctor took an iron or copper pestle, and delivered several strong blows to the head and across the face of my poor friend L..., who was on the point of being trepanned. However, even before public rumor got around, the king's prosecutor was seized as suspect in this criminal matter, it was dormant or rather stifled by a transaction which was attributed throughout the city to the conciliatory spirit of M. Desgenettes, your respectable father. Doctor Cl.... however, had aggravated his crime, because he was closely pursued, it is true, sword in hand, by the brother of L..., employed on the farms, he had tried twice to kill him. Outraged with rage upon learning that just revenge was going to elude the L... brothers and their friends, I drew up a note which was posted at the doors of the main church, the commissary, the courts and other places.

Madame Hébert: What did it say on the note? 

Hébert: It said: ”Sentence rendered to the Supreme Court of Honor which condemns Doctor Cl... to the pillory of infamy, for compensation, etc. Then I drew two bloody knives in a saltire, with this motto: Olim veneno, nunc cultro.”

Madame Hébert: Which means? 

Hébert: Formerly with the poison, now with the knife.

Madame Hébert: Is that right, M. Desgenettes?

R.D.G: Yes, madame, and if you want a different version: ”He has replaced the knife with the poison.” Nevertheless I must have the honor of observing to you, as your husbands already knows, that the doctor did not use the knife.

Hébert: The knife made Cl... more odious, and that's what I intended. The assassination is therefore tolerated by a court which had just hanged two unfortunate people, for having burglarily stolen forty sous from a church trunk, which I would happily call provocative, since it jutted out onto a main road. The veil of oblivion is extended over a crime that was to be punished by the torture of the wheel, and here I am, for a placard which repaired the wrongs of justice, extraordinarily prosecuted, and decreed for personal adjournment . This is not yet enough, and both God and the devil are invoked against me.

Madame Hébert: You are aware, my friend, that all justice emanates from God; but the possible intervention of the devil in a judgment rendered by men is a superstition that I reject, although you have sometimes regarded me as superstitious. Monsieur, she said, addressing the author of these Memoirs, I am not superstitious, but no one is more penetrated than me by the power of God and the ineffable benefits of the religion of Jesus Christ... Is it not the Savior who said to men: You are the children of the free woman? I have never blushed over my [connection to] the first estate, and admit it in front of everyone. I still keep, and you have it before your eyes, the bed that I had at the Assomption; when it becomes that of a mother, it will change in neither shape nor color... My principles are still the same as those of Sister Goupile [sic]. But, tell me, Hébert, please, how was Satan brought into your business?

Hébert: Because it was brought before the official of Seez, and the general vicar and canon of the cathedral, who presides over this ecclesiastical tribunal, launched a monitory against me. This act fulminated in the sermon in the parish church of Notre-Dame d'Alençon, with an apparatus and ceremonies borrowed from the inquisition, which filled the common people with terror, and part of the population barricaded themselves in their homes, at the the onset of night, while the proud men of the city, and especially the armed butchers, searched everywhere for the werewolf. You know, monsieur, that they are a brutal and even ferocious type of man. The fanaticism of butchers has long been maintained in our city, by making them appear with their cleavers and their dogs in the procession of the little Corpus Christi, in memory of the assistance they had given, in 1500, to the Catholics against the Calvinists, then very numerous and very powerful in our country. Do you remember, monsieur, seeing this ceremony?

R.D.G: Yes, monsieur, and to have seen at the head of the butchers, with his sword raised and his arm bare, a Malêfre. This gentleman who, I believe, lived in Seez and had a stronghold at the gates of Alençon, was descended from the one who first commanded the butchers in this ceremony. The dogs had been removed, because they bit those of the assistants who stepped on their feet, and because they howled in a terrible manner when the culverines of the castle came to shoot to salute the Blessed Sacrament.

Hébert: If the butchers, who were pleased by my known cheerfulness, had suspected me of being the author of the placard, I would have been very uncomfortable, and if they had been convinced of it, I would perhaps have been treated like the werewolf that they wanted to skin like a calf... Barricaded at the house of my poor mother, who borrowed books for me from all directions, I acquired this profound knowledge of history that deigned to grant me. My misfortunes in Alençon, repaired a little in Rouen, led me to Paris, and you know, very roughly, what the rest of my life was like.

Madame Hébert: It was during your debut in Paris, my dear friend, that you were the most silent…

Hébert: However, I had no reason to keep silent about the fact that for a long time I had struggled with the devil by the tail, even up to the time when I obtained a small job as a tobacconist at the Théâtre des Variétés. Yes, I suffered from hunger, thirst and cold for a long time. You are not unaware of the services rendered to me by Monsieur; I also had many obligations to the Parisot hairdresser on rue des Noyers, as well as to his wife. This graceful couple reminded us of the wigmaker, the Love of the Lutrin, and his wigmaker... We still had charming neighbors, the two daughters of the butcher across the street from Saint-Jean-de-Beauvais... Then, close to that of the English, this woman who loved you so much...

Madame Hébert: Is it so, monsieur, that you also have a good friend (girlfriend) in the quarter? 

R.D.G: No, madame, but I often chat with a rather laughable old woman, who ran a tobacco shop and housed two or three students. The house, which was no more than fifteen feet wide, as deep, and yet five stories high, had belonged to the father of J.-B. Rousseau, who was born there on April 6, 1671.  The good woman in question, who daily and naively repeated that she had once been young and had always haunted minds, had written on her door: This is where Rousseau was born.

Arriving quickly at the first days of the revolution, Hébert began to talk about how he had determined to write in a genre which was neither in his taste nor in his habits, but which he considered as having a powerful effect on the popular masses. Everyone believed that Père Duchesne was an essentially crude man; one will believe that by reading his papers, and one will be wrong, because he was, on the contrary, very polite. The conversation, which changed subject at every moment, because Hébert had little consistency in ideas, focused on Louis XVI and his family, whom the substitute of the commune had seen very often since August 10 at the Temple. At first he spoke of the dethroned monarch as a vanquished man who did not inspire him with any kind of interest. However, the day when Garat the younger, as minister of justice, and Grouvelle, as secretary general of the executive council, notified and read the final judgment to Louis XVI, he shared the emotion that this great misfortune caused them... He attended the execution, and recounted the circumstances with marked infidelity... After believing for a moment, he said, that he was going to persuade the people, Capet showed the greatest cowardice and began screaming like a calf... He had to be dragged to be placed under the blade…

R.D.G: What you say, monsieur, is in complete opposition to what thousands of men have seen and heard... The resignation of Louis XVI is a historical fact which cannot be altered, and we will not forget this resignation more than the sublime words of Father Edgeworth, which must have inspired him. 

Madame Hébert: This is true, and if Louis Capet, like we believe, was a tyrant, we must today, and after his death, consider him as a martyr to his position, and I too would perhaps invoke him.

Hébert: My good friend, what extravagances... Women almost never listen to anything other than imagination and rarely to reason. Anyway, he said (and he pulled a bloody handkerchief out from his pocket), look at his blood… I gathered it while it was flowing from the scaffold… I won’t believe, monsieur, in the success of the revolution, until I’ve seen that the Swiss have been disarmed and had their throats cut, that the statue of Henri IV has been toppled and the head of Louis XVI off. […] In desiring, monsieur, to have the honor of speaking to you, I was moved by a motive more important than the subjects of which we have spoken so far. My gratitude to you makes it my duty to warn you of what is happening regarding Mr. de V..., your uncle, and his friends. You are perhaps aware that they have declared themselves enemies of the municipality of Paris, which has little fear of them and accepts combat, even to the death.

R.D.G: Monsieur, I am not in my uncle's political confidence... He has the rigidity of a Cato, and I cannot tell him anything.

Hébert: The statesmen, sir, have spoken of our heads... The municipality will ask for theirs, if necessary, and the people will grant them.

R.D.G: I thank you, monsieur, for your communications, but I cannot use them and consider them useless.

When we seperated, it was more than nine o’clock, and I never saw Hébert or his wife again.

In his testament, François Chabot, who was among the ”indulgents” executed on April 5 1794, claimed that Françoise was ”very close with [Joseph] Delaunai's [sic] mistress for more than two years as far as I’m aware, and my brave colleague Forestier saw them together occupy themselves with my trial at the time when the faction doubted my will to serve it…” How much truth there is to this is probably impossible to know.

On March 14 1794, four a’clock in the morning, Jacques-René was arrested and taken to the Conciergerie prison. Françoise stayed behind at their apartment, watched over by a guard as seals were placed on her husband’s papers. However, at six o’clock the same evening, she too was arrested and brought to the women section of the same prison as her husband. Before leaving, she handed over her watch and a pair of earrings to her ”woman of trust” Marie Gentille.

I’ve not been able to track down the arrest warrant for Françoise, but I suppose it was issued by the Committee of General Security, as I couldn’t find anything in Recueil des actes du Comité de Salut Public. The act of accusation proclaimed her suspected of being ”conspirator with her husband, immediate agent of the system of corruption imagined by the horde of foreign bankers against a few unworthy representatives of the people, accomplice of Kock, du Frey, Despagnac.” The draft of the public prosecutor's indictment did in its turn state that ”The widow Hébert has, I do not say perverted her husband, whose immorality has been demonstrated to you, but supported with all her means the liberticidal projects of this monster.”

Ten days after the two had been arrested, March 24 1794, Jacques-René was executed alongside 17 other ”hébertists.” In Paris révolutionnaire: Vieilles maisons… there is to read (though without any source cited) that with her husband dead, Françoise asked to go back to their child, but that this request was ignored. Two weeks later, April 9, Françoise was joined at the Conciergerie by the fourteen years younger Lucile Desmoulins, who had been arrested on the fourth and widowed just a day later. The two women supported each other and became friends despite the antagonism their husbands had held for one another while they were alive:

A few days later we saw her arrive, [Desmoulins’] widow so lovely and so gentle, she was still inside the vertigo and pain, she walked and watched like Nina. Oh what bizarre a game revolutions are! The widow Hébert and the widow Camille Desmoulins, who’s husbands had just been sent to the scaffold, often sat together on the same stone in the heart of the Conciergerie and cried together. Mémoires sur les prisons (1823) by Honoré Jean Riouffe, page 66.

I saw at the registry of the Conciergerie, the day after their appearance at the hearing, and the very day of their trial, the wives of Hébert and Camille together. Hébert’s wife said to Camille’s wife: ”You are real lucky, you, there was not a single statement against you yesterday; no shadow of suspicion cast upon your conduct; you are no doubt going to go out by the main staircase, while I will be sent to the scaffold.” The wife of Camille, no doubt imbued with the atrocity of her judges, did not raise her eyes, showed neither fear nor hope, but modestly awaited her judgment. She went up a few minutes later; the debates had been closed the day before; the hearing was held only for the pronunciation of the judgment; she was condemned like the others and executed. I recall this conversation as precious, because in coming from the mouth of the wife of Hébert, in the presence of several people, it has a character of truth which gives an idea of ​​the innocence of the wife of Camille, and of the barbarism of the court.  A witness during the trial of Fouquier-Tinville 1795. Cited in Histoire parlementaire de la Révolution française… volume 34, page 427

Françoise and Lucile were both part of a group made up of 26 people, all accused ”of having, in complicity with the infamous Hébert, Clootz, alias Anacharsis, Ronsin, Vincent, Mazuel, Momoro, Camille Desmoulins, Danton, Lacroix and others, already struck by the sword of the law, conspired against the liberty and security of the French people, by wanting to trouble the state through civil war, by arming the citizens against one another, and against the exercise of legitimate authority, as a result of which, during last ventôse and current germinal, conspirators were to dissolve the national representation, assassinate its members and the patriots, destroy the republican government, seize the sovereignty of the people, and give a tyrant to the state.” Their trial began on April 10, and continued for three days. Looking over the protocol, these are the only times I’ve found where the proceeding concerned Françoise:

Louis-Claude Adnet, cavalry captain, testifies that, during Momoro's arrest, the latter told him that Barras was a good citizen; that Hébert’s wife was asking for news the day before it; that it is absolutely true that this Barras should have been made lieutenant-colonel of the gendarmerie, as a price for his crimes, and that he bragged about it to several people.

These facts are denied by Barras and Hébert’s wife, who are convinced by other statements to the same effect.

[…]

Finally, from the last depositions in this affair, it appears that about two months ago Chabot said: You are complaining about the scarcity of provisions, about their lack of arrival. If you sincerely want to put an end to all these evils, to bring back abundance, arrest the leaders of the conspiracy, who are Hébert, his wife, and Baron de Batz. The same witnesses declared having found themselves at dinner with Hébert and his wife, and having heard them utter the most atrocious insults against Robespierre and the Committee of Public Safety; that Hébert’s wife in particular indulged in the most indecent rants against the Committee of General Security and all kinds of authority; that in a session at the Cordeliers, where the question was raised as to whether the Rights of Man would be unveiled; on the petition of Collot-d'Herbois, representative of the people, sent commissioner on this subject, she said to the people placed near Hébert, on the questioning made to her relating to said Collot-d'Herbois and his patriotism: This Collot is nothing but an intriguer, an actor who comes to try his talent for theatrical stunts; he is paid by the Jacobins to demand the uncovering of Rights of Man; but we who are not millionaires do not pay; finally the same witnesses said that the wife of Hébert daily preached the sation and subversion of the most sacred principles, and spoke about the revolution as being the first of its declared enemy. 

Hébert’s wife was content with denying all these facts; she claimed to have never known her husband to be a conspirator, if he was he would have died by her hand; and the witnesses for their part persisted in their statements against Hébert’s wife.

Immediately after this last deposition, the debates were closed and sentences handed out. The tribunal found Françoise and 18 of the other accused guilty of being part of a conspiracy attempting to ”trouble the state through a civil war, by arming the citizens against each other and against the existence of legitimate authority, as a result of this, as a result of which, in the course of the last ventôse, conspirators were to dissolve the national representation, assassinate its members and the patriots, destroy the republican government, seize the sovereignty of the people, reestablish the monarchy and give a tyrant to the state.” They were sentenced to death and to have their belongings confiscated by the state. 

Shortly after the sentences had been passed, Françoise did however declare herself to be around three months pregnant:

Second year of the French Republic  24 Germinal, half past four in the afternoon. On the notice given to the public prosecutor that the widow Hébert, who has just been condemned to death by today’s judgment, had a pregnancy declaration to make, we, François Joseph Denizot, judge at the revolutionary tribunal, assisted by Robert Wolff, clerk commissioner, in the presence of Citizen Nautin, one of the public prosecutor’s substitutes, are transported to one of the rooms of court house of the Conciergerie where said widow Hébert had been brought. She declared that her name was Marie-Marguerite-Françoise Goupil, widow Hébert, and that she is approximately three months pregnant. She signed with me, the aforementioned Clerk and the other aforesaid. / Widow Hébert

This claim was however quickly dismissed and/or disproven, and Françoise got driven to the scaffold the very same day, dying at the age of 38. The execution got described the following way in number 146 of the journal Nouvelles politiques et étrangères (April 15 1794):

The conspirators condemned by the Revolutionary Tribunal were executed yesterday [sic] at a quarter to seven [in the evening]. Chaumette, sitting next to Gobel, replied with a smile of rage to the reproaches of atheism that were made against him; Gobel was gloomy, silent, downcast; pale Dillon sat beside Simon; the actor Grammont next to his son; the widow of Hébert and that of Camille Desmoulins, elegantly dressed and maintaining composure, were chatting together. Gobel and Chaumette were the last to suffer their ordeal. Chaumette's head was shown to the people, to the sound of applause and cries of "Vive la République.” The wife of Hébert and the wife of Camille Desmoulins were the first to climb the scaffold, they embraced each other before dying.  Françoise left behind the following effects (cited in Camille Desmoulins and his wife: passages from the history of the dantonists (1874), page 443): ”350 livres in assignats, a knife with a horn handle ornamented with silver, a pair of scissors, and a portrait of the traitor Hébert set in gold.”

The Héberts only child, Scipion-Virginie, was born in February 1793. Her birth record (cited within Mémoires de la Société historique, littéraire et scientifique du Cher) goes as follows:

February 8, 1793, birth of an unbaptized female child who one wishes to call Scripion-Virginie, born on the day and time of yesterday, at 11 a.m, in Paris, Cour des Miracles, daughter of Jacques-René Hébert, man of letters and substitute for the Commune prosecutor, and Marie-Marguerite-Françoise Goupil, his wife. First witness: Anaxagore Chaumette, man of letters and prosecutor of the Commune, living in Paris, rue du Paon n 3. Second witness: Scipion Duroure, man of letters and municipal officer, living in Paris, rue de Buffaut, faubourg Montmartre, n° 506, designated godfather. Third witness: Marie-Jeanne Doity, widow of Paul-François Maillard, living at Grande-Rue, faubourg Saint-Martin, n° 37, designated godmother. Signed, M.-J. Doisy, Scipion Duroure, — Hébert, — Bourner, — p. g. Anaxagore Chaumette. 

According to the article La Fille d’Hébert (1947), Scipion’s godfather (who, as it can be seen, was also the one she was named after) was imprisoned just four days after her parents (he would however escape the guillotine and be set free on September 27 1794). After the death of her mother and father, Scipion-Virginie was therefore taken in, not by him, nor  by her godmother, but instead Françoise’s older half brother J-J Goupil. On March 12 1795 we do however find a decree handing tutorship over to ”Jacques-Christophe Marquet, printer, Rue de Vaugirard,” and it was under the eyes of him and his wife Anne (married August 29 1794) that Scipion-Virginie grew up. On October 7 1808, at age 15, she got baptised in a religious baptism as seen by the following decree:

On December 9 1809, at the age of 16 years and ten months, Scipion married the nine years older priest’s son Léon-Frédéric Née from Bohain. She was by then working as ”institutrice” at the home of a priest by the name Masson. Scipion and Léon-Frédéric moved to Marsauceux, where the latter exercised the functions of ”minister of Saint Evangile” and where they had six children, half of which died while in infancy. Of the surviving children, Paul-Emile-Frédéric died in Paris in 1829, aged 17, Timothée died in Marsauceux in 1843, aged 19 and Frédéric-Auguste died in 1877, aged 63. The latter was the only one to marry and have a child, a son born in October 1841 that lived for less than a year. As a result, no decendant of the Hébert lineage exists today. Scipion-Virginie herself died on July 11 1830, aged 37, one year younger than her mother. Her husband remarried six years later, but did not have any more children. He died himself in 1856.

[shot-of-truth]

Sex Drive*

summary: basically just a threesome with luke and mgk that has been sitting in my drafts for about two years.. yes I'm horrible.

warnings: everything filthy; breeding, degradation, slapping, choking, double penetration, squirting.. the lot, you know?

word count: 8k of pure filth

Luke knew Colson long before they signed with Interscope records but he can not recall ever talking to him. What he knew though was that this man never failed to put on an amazing show and even better parties, according to their mutual friend Ashley. He heard about many of his positive traits and he tried to remember them while the lanky dude with about a hundred tattoos downed his fourth shot of tequila for that night. His best friend was a big fan of his music, that much he recalled, always blasting his newest album Hotel Diablo in the car and singing along loudly. Luke even overheard her talking about Colson releasing a vibrator as part of his Valentines Day merch, he wasn’t sure if she ever bought it… which wouldn’t surprise him though. The lead singer eyes the tall rapper talking to a few girls on the other side of the room and questions himself whether or not he should start a conversation with him, for the sake of Fleur. Luke’s christmas party is in less than a week and he just knows that Fleur would be the happiest girl on earth if he invited him. So that’s what he does, after his drink is finished he makes his way over to the man that is about as tall as he is and introduces himself.

He mentally thanks himself for deciding to come to Interscope’s Christmas party as both of them lose themselves in a chat about music and their shared love for pop punk, especially Blink-182.

That was the story of how Luke’s friendship with Colson, in the industry known as Machine Gun Kelly, started. You could leave it at that if it wasn’t for Luke’s infamous christmas party that he threw at his house every year, which Colson was invited to… of course. And that was where he met Fleur.

With her brown skin and braided hair she made her way through the hallway, carrying a few bottles of liquor that she seemed to have brought from her car. “Let me help you!” Luke spoke quickly, taking two bottles of rosé from her before kissing her cheek and telling her to make herself comfortable, which shouldn’t be too hard since she basically already lives at his place.

Colson watches the scene unfold in front of his eyes, leaning against the wall and picking his beer up for a sip. The girl that just walked in is drop dead gorgeous, in his eyes at least. He loves the way her dress hugs her curves and he absolutely fucking adores when she throws her head back to laugh at something Luke said. He picks up that she’s not wearing a bra, her nipples visible through the fabric… he swears he didn’t mean to stare, he just randomly notices. He’s a lot taller than her and it makes his cock swell just a little bit as he imagines all the dirty things he could do to her. Keeping his composure though, he walks over to his girl of the night, setting the beer down on the table and greeting her with a simple “hi!” If he didn’t look close enough he wouldn’t even have seen the excitement on her face as she looks up into his eyes. “Oh look who Luke invited..” She smirks, bringing the sparkling wine to her lips, her red lipstick leaving a stain on the glass. 

“Actually… now I’m really glad I came.” He shoots back, taking her hand and shaking it. “Colson.” He speaks, not letting her hand go until she tells him “Fleur”. After hearing her name he can’t help but think that she really does smell like a flower, like daisies actually… a soft smell, like a warm Spring day. 

It does get better though, half an hour later when both of them are lost in the crowd together, her body pressed against his, he can make out her coconut body wash under the thin layer of sweat on her neck. His hands are on her waist and he guides her to the beat, fingers digging into the flesh beneath her shirt. He feels her ass press against his crotch and he just knows that she is doing it on purpose. He leans his head down to plant a quick kiss to her neck, a satisfying sigh leaving her mouth. “We got two options, Colson. You either follow me now or I’ll find a room and a way to get myself off like I do with my vibrator.” Straight forward, no bullshit. Her hands brush against his crotch and she throws him a kiss before disappearing, leaving Colson a horny and drunken mess in the middle of the living room. Without thinking twice he finishes his drink and follows her until she opens a door at the end of the hallway and waits for him to step inside. When he does, she’s lying down on the bed, a seductive smile on her lips, just waiting for him to come over and fuck her brains out. Colson has other plans as he quietly closes the door and exhales, leaning against it and licking his lips. He watches her every move with hungry eyes, images of him filling her mouth with his cock prominent on his mind. But he’s got time tonight… more than enough. He is going to make her beg. Still leaning against the door, he moves his fingers, motioning for her to come over. His arms crossed on his chest, his gaze is fixated on her walking over to him. 

The size difference makes her heart race and she looks up into Colson’s magnificent eyes, a wave of heat taking over her body when he presses his lips to hers, testing the limits. He tastes like beer and her taste reminds him of the disgustingly sweet watermelon vodka. Fleur is standing on her tippy toes and she’s grabbing onto his shirt, Colson’s teeth lightly biting down onto her bottom lip, waiting for her to open up. Tongue licking into her mouth, he huffs quietly, squeezing her butt while he’s at it. While the two of them are making out against the wall, hands all over each other, Colson pushes his left leg forward. The fabric of his jeans meets her panties and if it wasn’t so dark he would have been able to see her mouth opening and forming an o-shape. Fleur hopes he can’t feel the damp spot on her panties against his leg, hopes she doesn’t make a mess on his ripped jeans. But when her lover for the night stares at her, breathing heavily for a few seconds before mumbling a low “fuck” and connecting their lips for a needy kiss again, all her worries are gone. Large hands still on her ass, he pulls her forward with such force she collides with his hard chest, her barely covered pussy sliding against his leg. 

He then gets a loud moan out of her, dick straining against his briefs. “Wanna be a good girl for me and get yourself off on my thigh? Wanna beg for it, slut?” Colson’s voice is needy, sexy and raw but his eyes show curiosity, as if he wants to ask her: is this okay? Do you really want to do this? Her knees almost give in when Colson calls her a slut, the humiliation having a strangely unexpected effect on her, panties now drenched in arousal. And Colson feels it, god does he love it. “Please… wanna use your thigh..” This is so fucking filthy and taboo, begging for her favorite singer to let her grind against his tattooed leg. Just when Fleur thought it could not get any better, he bites her earlobe and whispers: “want you to call me daddy if we’re gonna do it properly… know it gets you off, so… try again.” From what she can make his look out it looks challenging, he wants to see her crack, wants nothing more than for her to fall right into euphoria because of him. All of this already feels too good to be true but when she moans “daddy please… need your thigh” he breaks and pushes his leg up, right against her clit while holding her in place with his strong arms. Her moans are music to his ears while both of them start grinding against each other, rolling away from the door and onto the wall, him slowly feeling a wet patch forming on his blue jeans. 

Both of them are so caught up in one another, bodies tangled together, sounds of pleasure falling from their lips, they don’t even notice the door opening and a perplexed Luke standing in the hallway. His eyes are bloodshot and he looks helpless, red stained shirt that used to be white clinging to his body. “Fuck I’m… shit..” he stammers, catching Colson’s attention. Luke’s heart feels like it’s going a million miles an hour when he locks eyes with his best friend being held up by one of his co-workers… if you can call him that. He hates that he gets hard just from looking at her messy hair and smudged make-up. But what he hates the most is that the size difference between the two of them makes him break into a sweat, imagining if she’d also look this small on his lap. Right now Luke is really fucking thankful for the lack of lighting in his room because he’s certain they would have both seen his bulge. 

He swallows the lump in his throat, trying not to look at her exposed lace thong that is now visible since her dress has ridden up. “I just… new shirt..” His voice comes out dry and he mentally facepalms himself for not being able to bring out a normal sentence as he points at the wine-stain on his shirt. “Come in… close the door.” Colson orders, surprising both him and Fleur. A new thought formed in his head just a few seconds ago, something even more filthy than making her beg for his cock. He wants to see her beg for two cocks, he wants her to be absolutely fucking wrecked by the end of the night. Kells has never been one to share his girls but right now he just could not give a single fuck, unable to form a coherent thought. The younger one hurries to close the door and make his way over to his closet, pulling out a random shirt. He’s unaware of the four eyes watching him as he takes off his dirty shirt, Fleur having climbed down from Colson’s lap and sneaking over to her best friend. His skin is kind of sweaty and hot but she doesn’t mind when reaching her hand out to trace her nails down his back, examining his broad shoulders. The girl immediately picked up where this was going when Colson pressed his hard on against her tummy the moment Luke had closed the door. He wanted this and she wanted Luke, young, innocent Luke, as well as the rapper with his dominant attitude.

The two of them could not be more different if they tried, Colson’s skin splattered with ink while Luke’s remained pure and creamy white. Their personalities are completely different but the thought of Luke having a kinky side to him that she doesn’t know about makes her stomach twirl and do backflips. Colson does not have Luke’s broad shoulders but he’s just as tall as the 22 year old, the two of them easily towering over Fleur. 

All of them notice the dim light in the corner of the room that Luke turned on when looking for his shirt. It illustrates his skin when Fleur touches him, goosebumps rising on his arms. “Stay.” She whispers, fingertips on his bare back, caressing him. His eyes are closed while he rubs them, certain he’s had one too many this night because this can’t be happening. It’s simply not possible that Fleur is hugging him from behind now, arms wrapped around his torso. Before he can process what’s happening, she has him turned around, curls dangling in his face. He nervously looks over to Colson and sees him taking his shirt off, the tattoos looking like a second skin. What he also notices is that the other guy in the room does not have an ounce of body fat, he’s like a fucking spaghetti noodle. And it makes Luke feel a little bit insecure, being exposed to both of them. It’s all gone from his mind when she kisses his collarbone while standing on her tippy toes, she can’t get higher than this. Her lips are so soft and it makes Luke’s knees buckle just the slightest bit, especially when she kisses down towards his nipples, flicking her tongue over the right one. Her wet muscle dances over his skin, down to his belly button and she can taste the red wine on his skin, which someone had splashed over his shirt just a few minutes ago. 

At this point she is kneeling on the floor in front of him, knees digging into the soft carpet, marvelous eyes digging into his as she gazes up at him through her eyelids. Luke could swear he forgets how to breathe that very moment because now he can definitely sense where this is going and he clearly fucking likes it. “You little whore… got Luke all hard and now you’re being a fucking tease? I don’t think that’s nice at all.” Colson’s voice catches both of them off guard, he is a lot closer than he was just a minute ago, standing behind Fleur. She just licks her lips and tries not to let Luke see how turned on she is from being treated with little to no respect from the older man… so pathetic. Suddenly he grabs her hair with just a bit of force and pulls it, making him look up to her. “Fucking answer me when I talk to you, toy.” His voice is dripping with lust and he sounds dangerous, his gaze though is examining her body language to make sure she’s alright. “Yes daddy.. I- I’ll make it up… to him.” Luke is fucking shocked when he sees her smiling after mouthing the word ‘daddy’ with a bittersweet voice, his jaw falling open, cock thickening even more. He needs attention and he needs it there. Even though he is not so sure if he’d be able to contain himself now that he has his gorgeous best friend on her knees for him and his friend calling her a slut. He keeps quiet. Before Fleur can process it, Colson is bending down and grabbing her jaw, making her whine. “You better.” Colson says calmly and then he slaps her cheek, not too hard but enough to make the slap echo through Luke’s bedroom. “Mouth open” he then instructs, Fleur obeying him. Before any of them can comprehend what he‘s trying to do, he has collected some saliva and he‘s spitting it right into Fleur‘s awaiting mouth. 

It‘s only when Luke whines quietly, being so fucking turned on it hurts, that both of his friends are reminded of his presence. Colson wants to speak for him, wants to tell the gorgeous woman with the braids in her hair to take Luke‘s cock into her mouth already when Luke speaks, his voice laced with neediness. “Will you take my cock into your mouth, babygirl? Be a good girl for us?” He swears he doesn’t think straight when his thumb reaches out and caresses the sore skin on her cheek that Colson slapped a minute prior. Fleur presses her thighs together to get some sort of friction because now she’s basically dripping down her legs. There’s something about Colson being rough with her, demanding and dominant, but Luke praising her and calling her babygirl and good girl. Maybe that’s just what she needs, someone pushing her limits and someone else reassuring her. Her best friend opens his fly, pushing his jeans down just a bit, she waits impatiently. He’s wearing briefs and Fleur can see the outline of his dick, painfully hard. “Give it a kiss, lovie.” Luke mumbles, playing with her hair. So that’s what she does, she kisses him through his boxers, her tongue wetting the fabric, licking over his head where she swears she can taste just a little bit of pre-cum. Fleur’s hands slowly pull Luke’s briefs down, cock springing free. He’s hard and heavy and he hisses when it hits the rather cold air. 

“Get naked.” Colson orders from the bed, palming himself through his pants, watching the scene unfold in front of his eyes. The woman wants to reach for the hem of her dress when Luke already pulls it off of her, careful as to not rip it. She pulls her drenched thong off of her legs and before she can stop herself, she throws it over on the bed, next to Colson’s head, a cheeky smile on her face. He grabs it immediately, an animalistic growl leaving his lips. “God you fucking whore… dripping for both our cocks?” He doesn’t expect an answer when he lies down on the bed, sniffing her panties. Fleur instead looks up to Luke, his skin red. His dick is about an inch away from her face, average in size but rather thick. The veins running up his shaft are downright sinful, not to mention his pretty pink head. She wraps her hand around it, her tongue licking over his balls, a quiet moan coming from Luke. She never thought she’d be in this position, on her knees for her best friend. Luke on the other hand fantasized about this many times before, preferably in the middle of the night, with his slicked up cock fucking in and out of his fist. 

She collects his pre-cum and lubes up his dick with it, slowly jerking him off while putting his balls in her mouth, swirling her tongue around them. Luke thinks she looks content, batting her eyelashes at him. So he moans, a devilish combination with her slurping sounds and her fingers moving around his wet cock. It’s so fucking hot, not just metaphorically. To Fleur it feels like the temperature has risen to around 100° Fahrenheit since Luke has entered the room, her hair slightly sweaty as the curly haired man carefully gathers it in his hands so it wouldn’t fall in her face and get in her way. She listens closely and hears Colson moaning quietly while she kisses the head of Luke’s cock. Trying not to think about her glistening pussy being on full display to Colson, she licks Luke’s pretty dick up and down, his body reacting immediately. He fists her hair tighter when she finally takes him in, her warm, wet mouth engulfing him… and Luke has a hard time not cumming on the spot, thinking about what her pussy would feel like if her mouth is already heaven on earth. A pornographic moan leaves his mouth and Kells can’t help but smile, excited for what this night has in store for him and the others. The gagging sounds coming from the beautiful girl kneeling on the floor, combined with her spitting on Luke’s cock every now and then make the rapper throb. She has him so fucking deep in her throat, Luke just has to pull her away after a few minutes and kiss her forehead, out of breath. Tears are streaming down her face while she sniffles and gives him the cutest smile someone could give after taking a dick down their throat. His stomach almost does back-flips from her simple gesture, his thumb wiping her tears away and a whisper leaving his mouth: “So good to me, baby… took me so well, I loved it.” He holds on for a second, thumb swiping over her bottom lip, her warm mouth allowing him in. “Think she deserves a reward, am I right Kells?”

His shy smile turns into a confident smirk as he watches Colson get up from his previous position and walk over to the two of them. Before Fleur can even register what is happening, he is kneeling down behind them, licking a stripe up her soaking pussy, all the way from her clit to her entrance, her legs almost giving up and making her drop to the ground but Luke catches her, holds her hair and presses his lips to hers. Fleur’s eyes are shut in pleasure, little mewls escaping her slightly opened mouth, going over right into Luke. Colson is gripping her hips so tight that she’s sure she will find his handprints on them later in the night when she’s all by herself again, eyeing herself in the massive bathroom mirror. His tongue softly presses against her clit, face buried between her legs as he gets a taste of her. Luke can see that his friend is hard behind her, boxers pulled down to his ankles. 

Colson’s fingers find her entrance after eating her out for a good five minutes and he slowly inserts one finger, examining her reaction as she throws her head back, mouth opening. He’s sitting down behind her, one hand slowly pleasuring her, other one pulling her back by her hair so she’s settling down on his lap. The younger man has a smirk on his lips as he sits down in front of his best friend and loosely wraps his hand around her throat, making her teary eyes look up at him. He kisses her softly before licking his thumb and slowly bringing it to her clit, earning a soft sigh from her. The combination from both Colson and Luke pleasuring her is too much for Fleur, nails digging into Luke’s shoulder, trying to hold on to something as her body shakes. “What a dirty fucking whore.” Colson mumbles in her ear, right as he lets go of her hair and slaps her rosy cheek. Once, twice.

In her hazy mind, she notices Colson’s fingers disappearing and Luke’s slowly rubbing over her clit, slowly sending her over the edge and making her let out a pornographic moan, legs shaking. It feels like heaven to her. “Yeah, let go baby… sound so pretty when you cum for us… such a good girl.” In her overstimulated mind she notices lips on her neck, kissing and nibbling on that sweet spot that leaves her legs shaking as she’s coming down from her high. Out of the corner of his eye, Luke sees Kells still stroking himself behind her, hand on her hip. “Mind if I have a taste?” He asks the older one, as if Fleur isn’t even present, as if she has no say in this… and it turns her on so much. “All yours, man,” Kells smirks and steps back a little, leaving enough room for the singer to get behind his best friend and trace his finger over her soft thighs. A shiver runs down her spine and she jerks away from him at first, the sensitivity of her first orgasm still washing over her. “Aw baby, know you’re so sensitive… but I’m dying to taste you, need to have you right now.” With that, Luke picks her up and gently throws her on the bed that Colson is already sitting on. He’s fully naked now and for a quick moment Luke checks out all his tattoos that seem like a second layer of skin. “Lu, please…” His best friend is slowly grinding against nothing, her pussy so fucking wet in front of him, she’s almost dripping onto his bedsheets. 

The sound of her breathy moans and pleas has his dick impossibly harder between his legs, throbbing for her… but she has to wait, cause Luke reaaally loves hearing her beg, he decides. “Please what?” He mocks her, slowly settling between her thighs, rubbing the inside of it. “N-need you.” A slap echoes through the room, before Colson speaks. “Speak up bitch, how is Luke supposed to know what you n-n-need when you can’t even form a proper sentence, huh?” His big hand rubs the slightly sore skin on her cheek and she swears she has never been more turned on in her entire life, Luke still kissing right next to where she needs him the most, teasing the shit out of her. “So fucking pathetic, you didn’t even get our cocks yet and you’re still fucking dripping for us…so cock drunk you can’t even speak properly.” Luke settles down on the bed finally, placing her legs over his shoulders before kissing the inside of her thigh again. His blue eyes look up at Fleur, tears of frustration in her eyes and it has him concerned for a teeny tiny bit until she reaches her breaking point and blurts out: “Lick me Lu, pleaaaase.” He dives in immediately, like a starved man eating his first meal in a long time, devours her pussy. His hands hold her legs open and his tongue laps up all her juices, while she’s fisting the duvet behind her, arching her back in the most sinful way. Everything feels so fucking good right now and when she looks for just a second she sees Luke grinding against his sheets while he sucks on her little bundle of nerves. On top of that, he fucking moans against her, the vibrations making her let out a loud scream.

She’s close already, can feel her second orgasm of the night creeping up somewhere deep inside of her. Absentmindedly, her hands tangle in Luke’s hair and give it a hard thug and she expected everything but the fucking whimper that came out of his mouth, telling her, without any words, to do it again and again and again… so she does, fisting his hair and rocking her hips against him while he sucks on her clit, so hard it has stars dancing in front of her eyes. “Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me.” He licks her through her orgasm, moaning loudly as well. He doesn’t stop until she’s whining, crying and shaking for him to stop. Kells is still sitting behind them, hand in Fleurs hair while he strokes himself lazily. 

She’s coming down slowly, breathing heavily and looking for the two men in the room with her. “How do you want us?” Kells asks, suddenly next to her. Fleur is dizzy, needy and aching to finally be filled. Trying to articulate a sentence, to let both of them know that they could do whatever the fuck they want to her as long as their hands don’t leave her sweaty hot skin, she fails miserably. The only thought prominent on her mind right now being her idol and her best friends using her body in downright filthy ways, at the same time, in whichever way they choose. Soft lips close in on her nipple, the sudden cold wetness a contrast to her hot skin. With her eyes slowly opening, Fleur notices Luke to her right, his fingers stroking his rock hard cock while Kells on her left side is desperately trying to draw her attention back to him by digging his hands into her side, grabbing her hard as he sucks on her most sensitive spot. 

“Poor baby, look fucked she is Luke.. maybe we should just leave. Think we’ve been super generous today, haven’t we? Two orgasms should be plenty.” His tone suggests that Colson does not plan on being anywhere near done with his new prized possession, Fleur however, in her fucked out state, does not seem too okay with the possibility of not getting what she was singing up for all along. “Nooo, please sir.” Her voice comes out raspy, an aftermath of swallowing down Luke’s dick not too long ago. A quiet “need more” follows right after, hands reaching out to Kells and Luke on either side of her. The two singers immediately make eye contact as a soft chuckle forms on the younger one's lips. “Aren’t you a little selfish, baby?” His usually honeysweet voice seems to be dripping with evil intentions. “You only take, take, take… look at Kells. Have you touched him at all tonight, huh? Bet he’s been dying to stuff you with his cock all night and you have just given him zero attention.” Knowing looks are being exchanged between the two males, as if they have done this sort of thing a million times before. “Honestly Luke, why am I even asking? Pretty sure Fleur is gonna be a good little slut for us and take us however we want her.” 

It’s dark in the room, however the rapper does not miss the shiver that runs through Fleur’s body at his words. He waits for a signal, anything to let him know he was wrong about his assumption and nothing follows except the quietest moan… he’s done for. Crashing his lips onto hers like it’s the last thing he would ever fucking do in his life, Colson takes control again, pressing Fleurs tiny body deeper into the mattress. The little whispers between the two men go unnoticed by her, so does Luke grabbing certain objects from his nightstand. “Look at me.” She watches Kells rip open a condom with his teeth before taking a first closer look at his massive dick resting between her thighs, the last bit of dominance that was still within her slowly withering away. What the fuck did she get herself into here? “I can’t wait to fuck that tight little pussy, ruin it for everyone but us.” “Next time you even think about going over to Matt’s house, I bet you’ll only be thinking about this. Will just get disappointed by everyone but us, will forever think about this-” Luke drags the last word out with his hands around her throat. Him bringing up the hookup with one of their mutual friends stings and she is about to say something before catching herself again. She is at their mercy and scolding her best friend right now when he has been nothing but an angel to her all night does not seem fair to her, not even in the headspace she is in right now. 

Not with the stickiness of her two previous orgasms and her momenteral arousal slicking up her thighs and sore entrance. Contracting her pussy around the cool air in Luke’s room, she would not dare disobey any of them right now, just needing to be filled. Having waited so long for the past hour, she closes her eyes in anticipation, goosebumps decorating her brown skin. “Babydoll, look at daddy when he stuffs you with his cock,” Luke whispers, hand slowly stroking his dick and watching the scenario in front of him play out. His other hand holds Fleurs head up, wrapped around her throat so the woman can easily watch as the second man in the room pushes forward, engulfing himself in her wet heat. 

The moan that leaves her lips is straight-up pornographic- loud, needy and echoing around the room. So erotic that Kells loses himself in it, the sound going straight to his aching dick that is being gripped by Fleurs tight cunt like a viper grabs her victim. Ready to devour him and so deliciously full of him, none of them notice they are holding their breath until he breathes out “Holy shit, god. You feel so fucking tight.” Gushing around him it’s like he can feel her heartbeat even through the condom as he gives his first thrust deep into her. “That’s it, baby. Taking him so well,” Luke whispers into her ear, simultaneously wiping the tears that run down her cheek away. Fleur feels so positively full with Kells’ head bumping directly into her cervix and giving her that sweet sting she knew she’d feel as soon as she laid eyes on him. She can’t control the tears of pleasure that stream from her eyes as he sets a brutal pace while Luke holds her fragile body in place. It feels as if there are hands all over her body, touching her, feeling her, pleasuring her. 

She’s floating somewhere up there, she’s sure of it as Colson suddenly stills all the way inside of her to catch his breath, dick throbbing. Her legs wrapped around his waist shake, pulling him in closer. She doesn’t mean to, never ever, but with everything going on right in front of her she doesn’t realize Luke leaves his spot. Doesn’t realize he hands Colson the bottle of lube, who slowly pulls out of her. “Ride me, angel.” Luke demands from next to her, laying down on his mattress. “Yes sir.” Fleur replies, just needing that feeling of being full again. Her entire body aches from the previous orgasms, her thighs burning as she swings her leg over Luke’s muscular thighs, straddling him quickly. “Keep calling me sir and we might just fill up that pretty little pussy, darling.” An involuntary moan slips past her lips at the thought, her wet lips slowly sliding over Luke’s erection that pressed up against his stomach. He hisses and throws his head back the same moment Kells gathers Fleurs hair in a makeshift ponytail and pulls on it- enough to make it sting and inevitably enough to get her attention. “You better stop teasing right fucking now and sit on his dick, do you understand me?” 

Luke’s hands dig into her hips, making sure to leave marks that will be visible to anyone that tries to touch their little brat for the next few days. The thought makes his heart race, both in anticipation and anxiety… remains of him, her best fucking friend, and Colson being on her body as another guy enjoys her the way they are doing right now. All his senses are on high alert, skin feeling on fire as Fleur positions him against her entrance and slowly sinks down on his cock, juices coating him and pooling around his base. In his fucked out state he just now realizes he never thought of grabbing a condom and he wants to say something, it’s a thought slowly making its way from the back of his mind to the front, threatening to spill past his lips until- 

“Fuck Luke…” It’s not the pet name she’s been using all night, it’s not for Kells’ enjoyment, it’s only meant for him as his dick pulses inside of her wet, warm cunt. His best friend gasps, hands tangling in the singers damp curls and it feels like heaven to him, so snug around him he can feel her fucking heartbeat against his dick. “M-Move, flower.” Colsons lips capture hers as she slowly starts moving, making sure to go all the way up until he almost slips out, teasing him, before sliding back down on his thick erection. All those years of them being friends and she just now asks herself why the hell they haven’t done this sooner? When he looks so ethereal below her. The curls, the full, plump lips of his, everything about him screaming angelic. Whereas the man next to her with his fully tattooed body and mean demeanor gets her off just the same, his hand now grabbing her neck as he settles in behind her. The pace she settles for is slow, almost torture for the blonde on the bottom who just feels like he needs more. More of her wetness coating his dick, more of the moans she tries to stifle everytime he’s deep inside her. The good friend act, the fucking soft act he’s kept up all evening is wearing thin but what finally pushes him over the edge is when she chuckles, almost fucking laughs at him shuddering when she lets his dick almost slip out and the cool air hits his sensitive tip. 

Her face is buried in his neck, not being able to read his facial expression. Colson however grins to himself, visibly noticing Luke’s whole demeanor change. In one swift motion, Luke pulls Fleur down until she’s flush against him, his dick pressing hard against her cervix. A loud moan echoes through the room, thighs trembling against him. She tries to move away from him, her best friend being too fucking deep inside of her but both Luke and Colson are keeping her in place. “I’ve fucking had it with you. If you wanna act like a brat I will fuck you like one.” “You’re too nice for that.” And she almost instantly regrets it the moment the six words leave her mouth. Based on the expression on Luke’s face she knew he wasn’t playing from the beginning but now she’s really in for it and she’s almost positive Colson and Luke will both ensure she afeels pleasure like she’s never felt it before. 

“See, babygirl. We were gonna be nice, you know…” Luke’s voice is dangerously calm and it has her on edge. She opens her mouth to say something but just the shake of his head makes her decide against it. And suddenly she hates how obedient she is in his lap, dick still filling her to the brim. He sits up, face now inches away from hers and she can make out his darkened eyes. You could hear a pin drop in the room right now, the atmosphere tense. One sound, a cap being popped open behind her makes her aware of the other person in the room being much closer than she thought he was, wanting to turn around but Luke captures her face with his right hand. “Eyes on me.” A whine builds up in her throat, her hips slowly grinding against him because it’s painful how wet and desperate she is at this point. She wishes Luke would just fuck her, do something, anything and she wishes Colson would let her suck his dick while Luke pounds into her. “We were gonna be nice and take you one at a time. Didn’t want you to feel overwhelmed… but baby, tell me. What’s the point of having two dicks in the same room as you if you don’t have both of them inside of you at the same time?”

It’s like her heart skips a beat as her mind drifts to places she’s never explored before. She wants to tell him no, that’s too much. She could barely handle Colson abusing her little pussy, how was she supposed to take both of them at the same time? But Fleur looks at Luke and behind his hard expression his eyes soften a little. He’s her best friend who has known her for years. Why would he do anything to her he knew she couldn’t handle? Luke’s got some dark thoughts that he plans on executing within the next hour but he’s not a monster, far from it actually. Meanwhile Colson settles in behind her, softly kissing her neck all the way from her ear down to her shoulders as his hot breath fans over her skin. His tattooed arm wraps around her and grabs her left boob, teeth slightly sinking into her collarbone. If it wasn’t for this short distraction she surely would have noticed his head nudging her hole, about to press in, right next to Luke’s dick already inside of her. He hisses next to her ear, a guttural groan following immediately after once he pushes in, her pussy impossibly tighter this time. “O-oh my ffuuu-“ It dies in her throat, not that she could have said more anyways as Luke pulls his best friend down, kissing her passionately and pulling her flush against his chest so it’s easier for Colson to reach deeper.

He’s nestled right in there, stilling for a second before Luke pushes up, hands holding Fleur in place by her ass so he can move alongside his new, tall friend. “Holy fucking shit, that feels good,” Kells breathes out quietly. “Isn’t that little pussy squeezing us so tight, Luke?” He sounds completely fucked, his head pressing right against that spot that has their girl of the night seeing stars. She can’t think straight, pain and pleasure overtaking every other sensation she could be feeling that very moment. But Luke is holding her so tight and whispering sweet nothings in her ear, kissing her head and pushing her hair to the side so it would not interfere with her breathing. “Best one I ever had, Kells. Such a good little whore for us, aren’t you baby?” It’s more like a rhetorical question since he knows his best friend is too far gone to answer with anything but a lewd moan anyways. One hand presses down on her stomach, almost making her cum right then and there. They establish a diabolic rhythm, one of them pulling back while the other drives themselves deeper and deeper into her dripping cunt over and over again. It’s excruciating and Fleur feels like she’s on fire, her orgasm building and building as she’s being fucked at a slow pace but with determination from both of them. It’s like their hands are all over her and she probably couldn’t tell which ones belong to who, just that someone feels her shake and sob against the younger ones chest and decides to rub the swollen bud between her legs, dripping wet. Right where she wanted it the most this entire time. “Gonna cum on our cocks, huh? Doesn’t it feel so fucking good to actually be properly fucked?” It’s like Luke can’t control what he says, his best friends pussy and Colson rubbing against him making it way harder not to cum on the spot. But he needs to hold on, desperately needs to see the look on her face when she cums first. “Y-yes sir.. yes daddy.. please please l-let me.” Fleur whimpers, so fucking close and just waiting for their permission to tip right over the edge. A harsh smack being delivered to her left asscheek by Colson is exactly what does it in combination with their dicks hitting her cervix once again, his thumb still rubbing circles over her and Luke stilling inside of her, digging her nails into her waist. 

Her pussy pulsing and squeezing him is almost enough for him to shoot his load into her, and a lot of it. Calming himself down, he breathes in and out heavily, trying so hard not to think about the way her eyes squeeze shut and- wetness coating his thighs? A dark chuckle follows from behind, followed by Colson pulling out of her slowly, his dick still rock hard. “Did you just fucking squirt on us baby? Made a proper mess on Luke’s damn bed, didn’t you?” Luke lifts her up gently, sliding out of her- much to her dismay which she lets him know with a quiet whine, suddenly feeling so empty. “I’m sorry bro, but I need to taste her.. am dying to stuff my face in that cunt and taste how fucking sweet she is.” Colson lets them know, more directed at Luke than Fleur. “No, I c-can’t… sens-sensitive.” She tries to argue but to no avail, Colson’s mind is made up. “Shhh princess, Kells just wants a little taste.” He turns her around on him, her backside now against his chest while the rapper kneels down between both their legs. The moment his tongue comes in contact with her clit she’s thrashing around on top of him, trying to get away from the tall man who has his face buried in her pussy, lapping up her juices. Luke holds her in place, kisses her head and inhales the scent of her freshly washed hair while watching the scenario in front of him unfold. While he is glad for this little distraction to recover for a minute or two, his dick is still painfully hard and throbbing, Fleurs ass moving against it not making it much better. 

Stars dance in front of her eyes as the woman tries to control her breathing, too overwhelmed with Colson sucking and moaning against her. “If you don’t stop fucking moving, Luke and I will coax another five orgasms out of you, I don’t give a damn if that means we’ll be here all fucking night.” His tone is mean, demanding and almost threatening. “If I wanna taste our pussy, you will let me.” With that he is back to devouring her, nails digging into her soft thighs and leaving marks behind. What scares her the most is not another orgasm, it’s the fact that the orgasm is being delivered by no one other than her favorite singer who already made her explode on his dick before. And if she does that again in his face, she might as well just dig her own grave. Little does Fleur know that is just what he has been trying to achieve all along, fingers slipping inside of her and expertly finding her sweet spot. Her soft cries of overstimulation mix with the wet slurping sounds of his mouth, sucking and licking all over her. “Can feel you squeezing my finger, you wanna make a mess all over daddy again?” He speaks, breath fanning over her oh so sensitive clit. “N-no Ke-Kells, I-” Instantly a quick slap is being delivered to her thigh, the sting traveling up to her already sensitive pussy. “That’s not my name. Try again.” And she is so close, the muscles in her lower abdomen contracting as she grinds against Kells’ face, just wanting that one final push that he delivers with his mouth closing around her most sensitive area and his ring- and middle finger curling inside her. “Daddy!” It hits Fleur like a train, ears ringing, muscles spasming and liquid gushing out of her once again. Over the bed, over his fingers, over Luke, over Kells’ face. Helping her ride out her orgasm, the older man of the two kisses her thighs softly, rubbing the rest of her arousal all over pussy

“I know you’re so sensitive right now baby, I get it. But I think Kells and I really really wanna fill you up. Gonna let us use that pretty cunt one last time? Been dying to cum in you.” Hazy eyes stare up at him and even though it feels hard for her to move, four orgasms really taking a toll on the poor girl, she nods. That’s what she has been fantasizing about all night, since Luke walked into the room to discard his wine stained shirt, leaving all his girls and the few girls lusting over him out in his living room. “Need to hear you say it, lovie.” He’s gentle this time. His tip, covered in precum, nudging against her opening and just waiting for her verbal confirmation. “Need you Lu… need you Kells.” It’s barely a whisper but Luke lets it slide, coating himself in her arousal once more before pushing in from below her, Fleurs back still against his chest.

Kells wraps his hand around her neck, gently now, making her watch his long, hard dick sliding into her for the last time that night. He comes to think that she looks so tiny like this, sandwiched between the two skinny 6’3 tall men, the thought alone bringing him close to filling her up like he’s been wanting to for hours. It does not help that he can see their outlines, a slight bulge in her lower belly from the two cocks stretching her out. He thinks he’s done for, losing the rhythm he settled in with Luke, breathing quickening. “Gonna fuck that cum so deep into you.” He growls, tightening his hold on her neck. Fleur tries to reply, tries to focus on the pleasure of him still being inside of her but nothing is working anymore. Everything hurts in a good way and she knows that there is no way she’s going back out to that party later. She knows that this time they really can’t force another orgasm out of her fragile body, not that she needs it. Fleur just needs to feel their cum inside of her, dripping out of her, the soreness for the next few days, all of it. Even Luke is barely holding on by a thread, stilling inside of her and just letting his coworker push in past him, rubbing so deliciously against both of them. “Holy shit. Gonna put our babies inside of you, baby, yeah? You want that?” Luke has no idea what came over him but it seems to be affecting her when she clenches around them and lets out a pornographic moan.

Luke cums first, having edged himself all night, and coats her walls with spurts of cum, seemingly never ending. The whine that leaves his mouth is downright sinful and so so hot to her ears as it mixes with Colsons sounds of pleasure. “Fuck fuck fuck” He breathes out loudly, releasing right after and burying himself in her to the hilt. Thick ribbons of cum fill up her vagina, an evidence of both of them actually being there… an evidence that she actually just fucked her idol and best friend at the same time. For a short period of time she registers nothing until a warm, wet cloth brings her back to reality, both of them kneeling down between her thighs and staring at her with a worried expression. “There you are love… did so well for us. Took us like a champ, we’re so proud of you.” Luke presses a soft kiss to her nose as the other man wipes off the residue of them from her thighs. “Gonna kick everyone out,” he mumbles, more to Kells than to her. “You staying with her?” It’s supposed to be a question but the way he words it leaves no option for no.

The second Luke puts on his pants and a fresh shirt, Colson pulls the blanket over her naked frame, letting her cuddle into his side. 

“Sleep. We’ll be there when you wake up.” 

[pitifulbaby]

Cold December Night

summary: Christmas is suppose to be the happiest time of the year, but how do you break the chain from the last sad ones?

pairings: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

warnings: angsty, and then fluffy, eddie and you have shared trauma, i guess fix it fic? honestly its sad but i promise it ends really really sweet! there isn't a lot of dialouge, i've never seen snow so if anything i wrote isn't correct you can sue me, eddie has big feelings, talks of depression, a hint of suggestive nature- blink and you would miss it, no use of y/n

a/n: once again i have literally been writing this, or trying to write this for like a year.. anyways i am glad i got this finished though! if you celebrate Christmas i hope you have a wonderful day, and even if you don't i hope tomorrow is amazing like you. 4.4k words.

stranger things masterlist

Hawkins, Indiana was a special place. Perhaps not in the greatest ways, but it sure was special. It was December 5th, 1988. Days were shorter and colder, clothes were longer and provided more warmth than the clothing you would wear during the scorching summer months. Physical wounds from 86’ were healed and turned into scars that were hard to explain.

1986 wasn’t a good year. The year started fine, you worked at a local grocery store- sure it didn’t pay much, but there were only so many job options in Hawkins. Trying to make enough money til Eddie graduated. You had graduated in 94’ the same year he was suppose to be graduating as well, but luck wasn’t on his side. You hadn’t known what you wanted to do after high school. Eighteen was still so young to decide on what you wanted to do for the rest of your life.

So you decided to take a gap year during 95’ to give yourself a year to figure out what you wanted to do for college- or even if you wanted to go. Getting a job to make ends meet.

Then like a repeat of the year before, Eddie was held back. You promised him if he graduated in 86’ that where you went to college- or if you went to college, you would take him with you if he wanted, but only if he graduated.

The two of you started dating when you were both 16. Young lovers turned out to be soulmates. You two shared a bond that was unbreakable and perhaps to others a little odd- but that was just because you both were a little weird.

Then suddenly 1986 happened. Eddie’s drug deal turned to watching Chrissy Cuningham be possessed and killed right before his eyes- the blame of her unexplainable death placed onto the metalhead. You got a call from Wayne in the early hours of the morning, him asking if you knew where Eddie was- worry evident in his voice as he told you what he came home to find, and what he didn’t find.

It was strange opening the door to Dustin Henderson, him and his odd gaggle of friends taking you with them to find Eddie.

Everything else happened so fast and yet seemed so slow. Finding Eddie, having to learn about the Upside Down which was this other dimension that lived under Hawkins. Everything in the Upside Down was the exact same as it was in the normal version of Hawkins- well, other than the monsters crawling around and who else knows what lurked in the corners no one knew about yet.

March 27th was probably the worst day of your life yet. Going into the upside down to defeat Vecna, a thing of nightmares- a strange, terrifying, whatever he was. He was the type of thing you would tell to scare people, a creature you would use in a make believe story told over a campfire at night to try and one up someone else’s story and scare the living daylights out of them.

Things seemed fine on your end, you and Dustin back in the right side of Hawkins before Eddie had to do what he thought was right, cutting the makeshift rope and ceasing you from getting to him, sacrificing himself to the demobats.

Watching him cut the bedsheet rope, his eyes trained on yours as he told you he loved you before he was gone. After that your body was on autopilot. Pushing a chair towards the gaping hole in the ceiling, getting a running start before tumbling through the upside down- hurting your ankle pretty bad but the adrenaline masked the pain that you should’ve felt.

Running out the door and towards the direction of swarming bats that circled Eddie and feasted on the male. And suddenly the bats dropped dead around him.

Holding his body close to yours as he bled out wasn’t a memory you wanted to keep, but it was one that wouldn’t ever go away. He tried to say his goodbyes, but you shot them down. Promised you would get him out of there no matter what.

And with a lot of trouble you managed to get him out of the upside down.

The rest of that night was a blur.

Vecna was defeated, his body disintegrating into the upside down that started to crumble and break as you and the others escaped. Once through to Hawkins the gate to the other side closed and sealed as if nothing happened.

Which was a lie.

Max was rushed to the hospital, she barely escaped death- but not without issues that would follow her for the rest of her life. They managed to reset her bones, and her vision wasn’t fully gone but it wasn’t great at all. She was considered legally blind, but with thick rimmed glasses she could still see. But things would still have a small blur to them.

During Vecna’s encounter with Max, Jason attacked Lucas. Threatening the boy and beating him as Lucas tried to save Max.

After the police and ambulance showed up to take Max away to the hospital, all the blame of the lives taken by Vecna were placed onto Jason. Though it wasn’t his fault, the evidence somehow seemed to fall onto him. The charges that were going to be placed on Eddie were switched to Jason and he was arrested for the murder of Chrissy, Patrick and Fred and attempted murder of Max.

Even if some of the things didn’t fully make sense on it being Jason’s fault, he was connected to Patrick and Chrissy. Found at the scene of Patrick's murder and Max’s attempt. Which was enough evidence for the police.

Taking Eddie to the hospital was also something you found awful. When questioned about what happened you put the blame on being attacked by a man and his dog. A man trying to make things right as he thought Eddie was the reason for it all and used his dog as an attack dog. No one questioned otherwise. No one questioned the odd marks that didn’t align with a dog bite or knife.

You came out alive with a fractured ankle and wrist.

Eddie came out alive with scars, a near death experience and one nipple.

But you two came out with shared trauma and separation anxiety.

Nothing from the upside down reared its head, no signs anything would come back had shown and that’s how things would hopefully stay. After the events that occurred, the trailer the two Munsons lived in was unlivable. Sure it could be restored, but neither Eddie nor Wayne felt comfortable in the house that was once a home. So all the unbroken things inside the trailer were moved out and the building was torn down. 

No one would want to buy the trailer, plus it would be more expensive to remodel it than it was to completely tear it down. So, down went the Munson trailer.

Wayne moved into a small townhouse close to the plant he worked at, the neighborhood was new and quiet which was perfect for the elder Munson and his odd work schedule. Plus it was rather cheap, about the same as it was to live in the trailer- give or take a few. 

Before this all happened you had been living on your own, much like Steve you had absent, rich, parents. But yours were more loving than his- as harsh as it is. Though your parents had moved out of state when you were a fresh face eighteen year old, they knew how much you loved Hawkins. And since you spent most of your life without them there to coddle you, they had no issue with you living alone. But they did kindly help you on and off with the bills. 

So since you were on your own, just you in the small home, it didn’t take much convincing to get Eddie to move in with you. As much as he loves his uncle, he felt like he was old enough to be on his own- albeit with you, but truthfully at this point you and Eddie were seemingly one person. 

The government had given you both a decent amount of hush money for the terrifying horrors experienced. And though money was nice, it wouldn’t heal the traumatic hell you and Eddie went through.

Physically you were both healed, though sometimes the wrist you had fractured would tingle- a pins and needles type feeling if you leaned on it. Eddie’s scars would itch, worse in the colder months and would often be applying lots of lotion. It took a while for him to let you see the scars, for him to let you help apply and creams to soothe the deep marks. He told you he could do it himself, reapply the dressings, that it was no issue. 

But the soft cries you heard from him when he was locked in the bathroom told you otherwise.

After a while he opened up, more tears were shed as he showed you what was left of his body, he told you he wouldn’t be mad if you didn’t love him anymore after seeing him. After that you made him lay on the bed and pressed kisses to each and every inch of him, told him no matter what you would always love him, no matter his looks- you loved him for him, not his body. 

It took a while for Eddie to become more comfortable again in his body, and he still had a long way to go. But he was just starting to be able to look in the mirror and not get upset, not be angry at what he saw. 

The only people he let see without a shirt was you and Wayne, but of course his Uncle didn’t live with him anymore so he didn’t see his nephew shirtless as much as he did when they lived together. Eddie Munson was a furnace and because of that he preferred to sleep without a shirt. But, that changed after the upside down. He didn’t like the way the sheets or comforter would rub against the scars. So you two were still on the hunt for bedding that wasn’t aggravating. 

Back to now, things were somewhat calm. Christmas was weeks away, and you were excited to celebrate it. The last two years the holidays were hard. 

Christmas 86’ felt like it never happened, Eddie spent the day sleeping. His wounds were still healing from the dreadful day in March. You didn’t blame the metalhead for sleeping, truthfully that year leading into the next he spent most of his days bedridden. It took a while for Eddie’s spark for anything to come back, and you were there each step of the way to help him. Wayne that year, no matter how hard he tried to fight it, was set to work on Christmas Day. It didn’t snow that year, but it poured a frigid rain, a fog set over the town, bringing a gloomy atmosphere. 

Christmas 87’ much like the year before was very mellow. Eddie didn’t really want to do anything big. So that year Christmas was spent between you and the two Munsons. The younger munson claimed he didn’t want anything or need anything that year, and the elder munson was all the same. But of course that didn’t stop you from getting them both something small. The day was spent like every other day, the two men played poker, a six pack was split between you three. Dinner was take out from some hole in the wall restaurant that was open on Christmas. No decorations in sight, it didn’t snow that year either.

But this year, Christmas 88’ was the year things seemed nearly normal again. Sure things would never be the same, but it was pretty damn close. The light was back in Eddie’s eyes, his hands didn’t shake when he tried to play the guitar, his humor was back and consisted of joking about what happened on the 27th of March. Which in turn usually ended up with him getting a gentle smack to his shoulder as he cackled. 

Eddie decided every holiday this year must be celebrated to the most extreme- which was a contrast from the last two years. Though his main holiday priorities were Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas. 

Never did you think you would be celebrating st. patricks day to the extreme but, that's what this year was. The year to try and get back to being okay. 

The morning came, soft light seeping through the small, thin gap between the middle where the curtains met. With fluttering eyes you slowly woke up, focus starting to come back as you blinked a few times. Moving your hands to your face to rub the sleep from your eyes. The small movements from you caused a groan to be heard from the left of you. Eddie was asleep, laying on his stomach with one arm draped over you and the other hidden underneath his pillow. His lips were ever so parted, a gentle pout gracing his features. He was completely and utterly knocked out.

Before 86’ Eddie could sleep like a log, a bomb could go off in the next room and he wouldn’t be none the wiser. Then after March, for a few months, he could barely sleep- which soon turned into him sleeping his days away as a depressed state took over him. Which in turn caused him to be a very light sleeper. But as the months went by, mentally and physically he was healing, he was slowly going back to his heavy sleeping days, which you didn’t mind. You’d rather it take a bit to get him awake than him not sleep or wake up at the drop of a pin.

Your eyes landed on the sleeping boy, his once sharp features soft, letting him look at peace. With a gentle hand you tuck a lock of his wild dark hair behind his ear. Which in turn causes him to nuzzle his face more so into the pillow. A deep chill was casted over the room, colder than it was when you went into bed last night. Turning your head you look toward the alarm clock on the bedside table, reading the bright red numbers. 10:32.

It was a little later than you had been waking up, but after the wild night you had with Eddie last night, sleeping longer was most welcome. 

Slowly and carefully you managed to wiggle yourself out of the metalhead's hold, putting a pillow in your place in Eddie’s arms. You hate to admit that it was rather difficult to get out of bed, not because you didn’t want to get up ( though very true. ) But you were sore, legs having a small wobble to them as you wandered to the bathroom. Stumbling a bit once. 

After your trip to the bathroom you were pulling on one of Eddie’s oversized sweaters. A dark material with a skull adorning the front of it. It clashed wildly with your fuzzy pink gingham bottoms, but you didn’t care. After stuffing your feet into a pair of slippers, you were checking to make sure Eddie was still asleep. Pulling the blankets up higher on him before venturing off into the living room. The only noise heard was the shuffling of your feet and the overworking heater. You kneeled on the couch, knees against the cushions as you leaned over to grab the curtains, pulling them open before pulling the blinds.

Outside was- as cliche as it sounds, a winter wonderland. Upon the once dying grass from the cold was now a sheet of stark white snow. As the town of Hawkins slept, snow fell. It started off as a small flurry before coming down harder further into the night. But the fall had stopped and in its wake was sparkling snow. It was a decent amount of the stuff, you could see the neighborhood kids all bundled up and playing in the first snow of the season. 

It didn’t take you long to quickly make a batch of hot chocolate, tearing open the small pouch of powdered chocolate and dumping the contents into some warm milk. Stirring the mixture into a mug. With the mug in hand, a fluffy jacket over the sweater you wore and feet shoved into a pair of Eddie’s much too big for you boots, you ventured off to the small porch.

Outside atop the porch was of course an outdoor couch with a small end table on the right of it. You held the mug between the palms of your hands to try and help warm yourself, pulling your legs up close to your chest with your back against the armrest- seated sideways. 

You let your gaze wander, taking in everything your eyes could see. Your neighbor to the left was currently shoveling the snow off his driveway while his elder mother stood bundled up in the doorway, watching her son intently. 

The neighbors to your right were currently putting up Christmas decorations, a middle aged couple trying to put the momma deer and her baby in the right place while their twin daughters stood back- telling them which way to turn the decorations. 

All in all it was a heartwarming sight, though not enough to help warm you, but still sweet to watch. You watched as the kids across the street were in an intense snowball battle with a few of the other neighborhood kids. It was just now you realized how family oriented the small subdivision truly was. 

The sound of the door creaking open broke you from the people watching zone you were in, tilting your head to the side to see the man of your dreams, Eddie. His face was swollen with sleep, hair a mess. He was dressed warmly, you could see a small hint of a sweater under his own thick jacket, his plaid sleep pants traded in for a thicker pair of sweatpants. His plush bottom lip turned into a small pout as he stared at you. 

“You stole my boots.” Sleep was laced in his voice, and if you listened hard enough you could hear the faintest of a southern drawl in his words from the years of being around his father and then Wayne. The two older men both had thick southern accents. The male soon stepped out onto the porch, adorning another pair of his boots that were almost exact to the ones you wore.

“I didn’t steal them, just borrowed them.” You responded to him, it was at this moment you noticed the buffalo plaid blanket he held in his hand. He soon was seated next to you, gently taking the mug from you- but not before of course he took a sip of the cocoa. He placed the mug on the table before he was grabbing your legs and pulling you close. He rested your legs over his lap, wrapping an arm around your waist as he pulled you to his chest, placing the blanket over your lap. 

“I was gonna ‘borrow’ your boots but I didn’t think the pink would go with my outfit.” Eddie said with a small chuckle, reaching forward to gently push a few strands of your hair out of your face. “Why didn’t you wake me up? Better yet, why didn’t you stay in bed with me?” He asked, his words a little slurred as he spoke low, almost as if he were sharing a secret with you. 

With a purse of your lips you shrugged gently, head turned to look at him. “You looked so peaceful, and I was gonna come back to bed but then I saw the snow and was called out here.” Your gaze trailed to look at his mouth before flickering back up to his eyes. 

“Called out here? What are you, an arctic fox?” His question was said as he gently shook you, his eyes going wide as he leaned in closer to your face. “And so what if I am? At least I’m not a worm, I wouldn’t survive these conditions.” Was your response to him, your hand coming up to gently smooth out his untamed curls.

“I would still love you if you were a worm,” Eddie replied to you, taking your hand away from his hair and pressing a kiss to the back of it. “Luckily I’m not a worm, because I wouldn’t have you there with me to give me kisses.” 

The two of you spoke with hushed voices, words quiet- almost as if you were both afraid to ruin the moment you shared, though you knew nothing would ruin it, at least nothing you two could do.

“If you were a worm I would also be a worm, I would never let you be a worm alone.” He said like it was a promise, and you know it was. A smile creeps up your face, causing you to laugh at the serious demeanor in his features. “I would give you worm kisses!” He adds, the serious resolve crumbling as he smiles brightly at you. “Worm doesn’t seem like a word anymore- how did we even get to the topic of them anyway?” You had interrupted yourself, brows furrowing in as Eddie shrugged his shoulders at you.

You watched as his eyes wandered out to the scenery in front of you both, “I didn’t think it was gonna snow this year.” He finally spoke after a few moments of silence from either of you, “It hasn’t snowed since,” Eddie’s eyes squinted in thought, trying to remember the last time it snowed. 

“What was it? January of 86’?” The male questions, more so asking himself rather than you. “The news didn’t say anything about any snow, I think it kinda just happened.” As you spoke you shivered, trying to huddle closer to Eddie. “I hope it lasts, or at least snows again on Christmas.” He spoke with a certain type of wonder that you haven’t seen from him since before that fateful day. “We could always put some snow in some buckets and then keep them in the freezer incase it doesn’t snow on Christmas.” 

You spoke to Eddie, never letting your eyes falter from him. One of your favorite past times has always been looking at him, he was beautiful inside and out. He was a very expressive man and you enjoyed seeing every little expression. For the smallest twitch under his eyes to the wide smile with the deep dimples.

The words you spoke caused Eddie to laugh, brows pulling in as his gaze turned back to you. That wonder he showed to the snow somehow becoming more present as his dark eyes locked in on you. “That means we would have to take out the frozen pizzas and the ice cream to make room for the snow. You know I can't live without my sweet, sweet frozen rocky road.” His right hand pressed against his chest, no rings in sight. “You know you concern me for the fact you still eat ice cream and popsicles even when it's below freezing outside.” 

He simply shrugs at your words, “I am a man of great taste.” Was his only response. You rest your head against his shoulder, snuggling against him. A shiver runs down your spine once again as a gust of cold wind blows, rustling through the trees and causing snowflakes to flutter off the once green leaves. “You cold?” Eddie questions, trying to pull you closer as he hikes the blanket up higher on you.

“No, I'm super sweaty.” You reply, your words a joke though spoken seriously. You can’t see it but Eddie rolls his eyes at your words, gently pinching your side which causes you to squeal. Not in any pain, more so in surprise of his cold fingers that he slipped up your shirt. “Why don’t we go inside and make some new hot chocolate? I’m afraid yours might have turned into a nice cold glass of chocolate milk rather than what it was.” You can feel Eddie turning his head to the glass as he spoke, taking note of the drink. 

“That sounds like a plan.” You replied soon after, reluctantly getting off his lap, holding tight to the blanket. Eddie follows suit, but before either of you can walk inside you are grabbing his arm, turning towards him with a bright smile. His brows furrow at you with a tilt of his head, waiting for you to speak. 

“I love you.” Your words are simple and true, causing your lover to smile bright as he leans in to press a sweet kiss to your lips. “I love you too.” He replies after pulling away from the kiss, taking your hand and leading you both inside- not before of course grabbing the mug from the table.

Christmas 88’ was much, much different from all the past years of the holiday. You both wore the cliche matching pajamas- the cheesiest pair that was affordable. The morning was meant for you both, the small bundle of gifts exchanged as well as kisses that tasted like peppermint and chocolate. Wayne came over around mid afternoon, bearing a few gifts for you both- and he of course was given some as well. Though he complained over and over again that it was too much, but you know he enjoyed them and it would all be used. For Christmas dinner Steve and Robin came over.Steve having been spending the holiday with Robin so he wasn’t alone- you had told them they were both welcome much earlier in the day, but they had a tradition to continue which you were told was a day of odd food combinations and movie after movie. Dustin popped over at some point, though he didn’t stay for long. It was a day full of love and cheer, lots of food and presents. 

It snowed that Christmas, the first white Christmas in a few years. And as you and Eddie stood outside admiring the bad decorations you both put up, he was soon kneeling on one knee, a small box in hand with a ring nestled inside with the most important question on his lips.

[theravenmuse]

Tagged by @kotias

How many works do you have in AO3? 55! A few of which are art or meta, but the majority are fics.

What’s your total AO3 word count? 329,403 words.

What fandoms do you write for? Almost exclusively Good Omens.

Top five fics by Kudos:

1. I Could Be Yours (E) - 614 Kudos

The version of Good Omens where Aziraphale and Crowley are a pair of horny immortals who enjoy engaging in very long, very elaborate, VERY INTENSE role plays.

This fic is currently part of a hostage situation and will not be updated unless/until that is resolved. I do have a handful of chapters written and ready to go though.

2. I’ll Cum Quietly (E) - 613 Kudos (for a one chapter fic? We were all a little horny after that ending, I suppose. 😆)

Aziraphale has a REACTION to Crowley saying that line. Spoiler alert: Crowley does not come quietly. XD

3. The Nightingales Were Just Sleeping In (T) - 518 Kudos

The one where Crowley falls to the bookshop floor, a sobbing mess, and these two idiots finally figure out they’re just on opposite sides of the same page.

4. Oh, Simple Thing, Where Have You Gone (M/E I keep changing my mind) - 490 Kudos

Let’s make it worse! And then eventually fix it, I promise.

Immediately post season 2, we’re going to find out just how sinister the Metatron’s plan is.

Still a WIP. I’m coming back to this one as soon as I catch up on my event things.

5. Show Me You Love Me? (E) - 406 Kudos

After dealing with a few unruly demons, Aziraphale has been crowned the local demon expert. This mostly means informing the local priests that they have in fact trapped yet another normal human and setting the poor fellows loose. That is until today.

Alternatively: Crowley gets caught by some enthusiastic humans and was likely well on his way to discorporation before Aziraphale steps in. Aziraphale tenderly cares for Crowley, and then there are love confessions, and then Aziraphale takes care of Crowley in a different way.

Do you respond to comments? When I have the spoons I respond to every comment, even the basic “I loved this” ones. But spoons have been in short supply lately so I’ve only been responding to comments that I have meaningful responses to.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Oh my. Isn’t that a question. And surprisingly, it does have a definitive answer. This was only the fifth fic I ever published. It’s the first dark fic I ever wrote. It altered the way I think about using horror elements in storytelling. It has very few hits and kudos. It remains to this day one of my favourite works, despite the fact that I’ve grown so much in my prose and story structuring since then.

It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year (E) Mind the tags. I did not do in depth CWs the way I do them now. All of the warnings are in the tags only.

A Christmas horror story in which Crowley accidentally releases the demon of Yule, Krampus. Intense horror elements throughout, especially at the end. There is no bright side at the end of this. There is no safety. There is no peace.

What is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? This one is actually harder. I know I’m more known for dark fic, but I’ve written more than one piece where they’re just completely happy at the end. Nothing could be better. Because of that, I’m going to go with the one with the happy ending that means the most to me. That would be this one:

There were Angels Dining at the Ritz (G)

Seasons 1, 2, and 3 (I hope) from the perspective of a waitress at the Ritz.

Do you get hate on fics? Not really. I’ve gotten two hate comments over 30+ dark and/or intense kink fics. One of those accounts is perma-banned, the other got off with a warning. Try it, I dare you.

Do you write smut? Yes indeed. The kinkier the better. You didn’t ask, but this is my favourite soft smut:

Just Another Day in the Rest of Their Lives (E)

It's a soft sort of spice, being woken by your lover's kisses in the cottage you share in the South Downs. How long can they linger here, letting eternity pass them by?

And this is my favourite kink:

Submission (E)

Crowley is in one of his "bratty bottom" moods and needs some help calming down.

And finally, my favourite dark smut fics:

Belle Mort (E) - lovingly nicknamed “Necro”

Heaven is on to the Arrangement. Fortunately, Aziraphale has a plan to throw them off the scent. Surely hereditary enemies couldn't be fraternizing if one of them discorporates the other? Crowley would never agree to such a plan, of course, but they can talk about it after.

No Escape For the Wicked (E) - lovingly nicknamed “eggs”

Crowley has been Lucifer's brood bitch from the dawn of the Earth, a duty he can't escape after his treachery. When he is forced to return to the depths of Hell for his task following his betrayal, he finds a vengefully jealous master.

Craziest Crossover? I don’t know about craziest, but this Good Omens X The Sandman is quite a bit of kinky fun.

Desire (E)

Crowley has spent the last several thousand years keeping Desire at bay. He's had to. But after a certain night in 1941, when Crowley's defenses are shot and Desire comes in the shape of his angel, the demon at last gives in to a temptation of his own making.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I’m aware of. I do occasionally scour for stolen works through general Google search, but that isn’t a guarantee.

Have you ever had a fic translated? The first chapter of I Could Be Yours has a Russian translation. I’m unsure if the translator intends to do more. The lovely @nosferatini has also made a podfic of Platypi and Other Insignificant Topics of Discussion.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? Not that has been published yet. I have written fics based on other works and have had a few write fics based on mine. There’s a lovely comic up on Gleafer’s Patreon based on one of my own Patreon Exclusive fics. The Great Flood (available now to free and paid members on my Patreon).

All time favourite ship? Aziraphale/Crowley. Honorable mention to the crack ship I’ll go down with: The Bookshop/The Bentley.

What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Still unnamed. Serial art thief Anthony Crowley/FBI agent Ezra Fell. Slow burn. And I mean slooooow burn. Currently sitting at 150k words. It will be well over 400k when completed, I think.

What are your writing strengths? Intense emotion. Intense psychological elements. Putting just the right amount of feeling into a whump fic that the pain hits that much harder.

What are your writing weaknesses? I’m still a fairly young writer. I’ve only been publishing fic for four years. I’ve only really been writing for about fifteen. Because of that, I’m still evolving very rapidly. I see it the most in my prose. I’m still learning how grammar works among other things.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language? It’s fine. It can help with the story immersion. I don’t speak any other language well enough to use more than the occasional short phrase. I do have an upcoming Rennaisance Era Pirate/Witch Crowley who says quite a few Irish Gaelic expletives.

First fandom you wrote in? Warrior cats. Never published but I do still have it somewhere around here. Written in pencil so it’s fading fast. 😆

Favourite fic you’ve ever written? YOU WOULD HAVE ME CHOOSE BETWEEN MY CHILDREN?!

Okay, I really did try. I scrolled through several times but I can’t choose. So instead, have the crack fic that I nearly got a heart attack over when someone sent an ask about it to Neil Gaiman’s inbox. 😳

Hey Sexy, Wanna Oil My Exhaust Pipe? (E)

The Bentley doesn't appreciate being left out in the cold while her demon gets it on with his angel. Fortunately, the bookshop is all too willing to engage in some fun times of their own.

Tagging: @nosferatini @theonewiththeshippinggoogles @naromoreau @startledplatypus @depressedpenguin2

[not-poignant]

Assumptions!

You are slow to friendships but you value the ones you’ve made greatly.

You are good with boundaries.

Thank you! You are amazing!

Oooo this is really interesting.

You are slow to friendships but you value the ones you’ve made greatly.

So, yes and no? I am very quick to spark up connections with people

(For example: the radiologist who did my carotid ultrasound: I know that she celebrates Christmas, that she has two children who are 15 and 11, the 15 year old is a really generous extrovert who loves her friends and wants to go to university, but she doesn't clean up after herself, and the Mum is frustrated because she was a 'good girl' growing up and doesn't quite know how to deal with a rebellious 15 yo. Her son is very empathetic and sweet, and asks how his Mum is doing when she comes home from work. She worries about him for that reason and doesn't want him to become burdened with her stuff.

She's married. Her family are back in Zimbabwe (I didn't ask because I think it's rude to ask, but she volunteered this), and she visits every two years, recently they came over for 3 months but had to cut the visit short by a month due to a family member with ill-health. They're doing better now. She misses her Mum. Her daughter goes to a private school that is a bus, train and bus to get there, her son will be going to a local high school and he's really nervous!! She recently moved to another suburb, and she likes it there.

She loves her job more than anything, and she finds it really interesting, but the hardest days or the most challenging days are the ones when she does pregnancy ultrasounds, and the baby has passed away, and the parents don't yet know, or even when they do know. She said it's hard for her to see that and be the first person in the chain of specialists/techs they will see. But she said conversely the happiest days are when she does new pregnancies, or scans in general for happy parents, and all is going well.)

(And this is what I do with new people. I can know you for 20 minutes, and many people will tend to fall into sharing a fairly significant part of their life story. Whether it's the broad details, or having a 80 yo man crying on my shoulder on the bus because he started talking to me about a war because I asked the right (or wrong, that day) questions.)

...So I am probably too quick to spark up connections with people (the trick honestly is that most people are struggling and most people want someone to listen to them, they like to feel heard on things that matter - it's extremely useful for character work when this is how you end up talking to people in all walks of life), and a lot of the time I really hold back because I sense it might be too much for the other person.

But I'm also very self-protective due to some negative experiences. So I used to be much, much faster at friendship online, and now I would say I'm just fast to make connections. For example, the sonographer didn't learn anything about me except that I have tumours, and the first year I had my tumour out / carotid artery resected, which was relevant to the ultrasound.

Irl, I can want to be friends with someone based off a single encounter, but I am very...unfortunately skilled at setting up one-sided friendships so that can be dangerous and I have to tread carefully.

but you value the ones you’ve made greatly.

I do, for sure, at least a little because I don't have many very close friends. I have a lot of people who hover in the acquaintance-friend space, people who I want to get to know better, people who I'm shy around, people who I don't know how to progress to the next level of friendship with, and people who I'm happy to let stay in that space, etc.

I'm a socially anxious shy introvert, so the reality is that while I know many people conversationally and think of them fondly, there's very few people I'd go to in a crisis.

Well actually there's no one I'd go to in a crisis, but that's something I have to keep working on lmao.

You are good with boundaries.

Ohhhh no. Oh boy, I am not good at boundaries. I've gotten better over time, in that I have them at all, except the ones I have now tend to be too rigid and not flexible/permeable based off shifting circumstances which can be very hard interpersonally.

I'm shit at boundaries. My nickname for a little while as a teen (i.e. many years) was 'the doormat.' There's a reason I keep writing about characters who need to learn how to stand up for themselves and/or stand up for themselves but in pretty intense ways! I think that's a pretty common problem for many people.

These days I tend to maintain a lot of boundaries by (and don't do this at home folks) not letting folks get close enough to me that I feel they can violate my boundaries at all. Which means I lose out because I push back connection, and other people lose out, because otherwise I can be pretty awesome to connect with!

But yeah, no, I've been in therapy on and off since 1997, and I'm still shit at boundaries. The pendulum just swung in the opposite direction.

~

From the Assumptions meme!

[talesofesther]

prettiest dream

Xavier Thorpe x Reader

Summary: You and Xavier share a special moment by the fireplace of your living room.

Requested by anon

A/N: This story is part of my Christmas Special event. The song I imagined playing here is this one, but you can think of any you'd like. <3

Masterlist

It was nearly magical, the way the soft flames of the fireplace illuminated the cozy living room; along with the Christmas tree blinking its lights right beside it, the atmosphere could easily be picked out of the sweetest dream.

At first, Xavier had been apprehensive about spending Christmas with your parents, however now, after a joyful first meeting and delicious dinner with your family, he figured it wasn't that bad at all.

He had just come back from finishing drying the dishes, and was greeted with the sight of your sitting on your father's big armchair; hot chocolate mug in one hand and a book in the other, with the fire highlighting your profile in a golden glow. Xavier engraved the image in his mind to put it on paper once he had his sketchbook in hand — because he could swear that he's never been more in love than he is now.

You were so purely you, that sometimes he wondered why you still settled for someone like him. In his eyes, you were deserving of the world, and hopefully, he'd be able to give it to you one day.

There was a low, soft violin tune playing from your mother's old radio, it brought a small smile to Xavier's lips as he watched you — talk about a perfect setting.

"I can feel your thinking from here."

It was only once you spoke, that Xavier realized you had placed your mug and book down, and had your gaze fixed on him.

He chuckled, glancing down and feeling warmth coming to his cheeks from being caught staring. Taking careful steps toward you, he mindlessly outstretched a hand; "would you dance with me?"

Your cheeks framed your smirk adorably as you shook your head slightly. Planting your socked feet on the chilly wooden floor, you took his hand in yours and allowed him to pull you up. "And yet you don't believe me when I tell you that you came right out of a rom-com."

Intertwining your fingers, Xavier pulled your body to him, knocking your chests together softly as his free hand came to rest on your lower back.

"I try."

"Lucky me," you whispered, winding your arm around his neck and playing with his long hair.

You two weren't very much in synchrony with the notes coming from the radio, but it didn't matter; the low cracks of the fire could be heard beside you, the snow had started falling heavily outside as a few flakes clung to the window behind you, and Xavier could see the warm reflection of the Christmas lights on your irises. Everything was perfect in this little bubble.

"No, I'm the lucky one," Xavier mumbled back, bringing you closer still so he could rest his cheek on your temple as he swayed you side to side, "you make me the happiest I've ever been."

The words went beyond this one night and you knew that, it only made your heart beat louder for the sweet boy in your arms.

You kiss his neck, feeling the shape of his goosebumps on your lips; then you kiss his collarbone as your fingers disappear on his hair.

Xavier knows what you're saying, you know it by the way he nuzzles further into you. But you go a step further, because he holds your heart in his hands just as you do his.

You pull away just enough to plant a kiss on the corner of his lips, and you don't need to open your eyes to know he's smiling. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be. You know that yeah? As long as I'm with you I'm already at my happiest."

The words roll out of your mouth with such delicacy, such ease. Xavier feels the movement of your lips as they graze the corner of his mouth, and he swears that if he wasn't holding onto you right now, he'd be on his knees.

Maybe, just maybe, all it'd take for you to have the world, would be to have him. And you did, since the first ever hello.

Xavier's hair tickled your cheek when he brought his forehead to rest against yours, he bumped your nose with his, knowing it would get you grinning.

"I love you so damn much," he said, just before crashing your lips together to repeat the same words over and over with each kiss.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are very much appreciated. <3

Xavier’s taglist: @milkiane

[griseldabanks]

20 Questions for the Writer

Tagged by @rainintheevening

1. How many works do you have on Ao3?

131

2. What is your total Ao3 word count?

822,681

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Mostly Captain America/MCU and FMA these days, but I also have fics on AO3 for Daredevil, Dororo, Star Wars, Supernatural, The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time, and Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Make Me Whole (Captain America), Back from the Brink (Dororo), of skulls and secrets (FMA), Shards of Me (Captain America), and Your Arms Feel Like Home (Captain America)

Still boggles my mind every time I realize my second-most kudoed fic is the random Dororo fic I wrote for a Christmas present one year @_@

5. Do you respond to comments?

I make a point to reply to every comment I can! ^_^ I just really want to share my stories with other people and talk to them about them!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Hmm...of the ones posted on AO3, I'm not sure. Maybe "Rejected?" It's an FMA fic where Ed gives up his life to bring Al's body back, so that's pretty angsty ^^'

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Pretty hard to beat the ending of Make Me Whole ;) Reunions of old friends, heartfelt confessions, sobbing on each other's shoulders, followed by an overjoyed birthday celebration! The "epilogue" of sorts of Shards of Me might be even happier, though, because you get to see how good things turn out for them a few years down the road <3

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I don't think I have on AO3. I did very occasionally on FFNet (mostly from one particularly weird guy who had other issues besides the quality of my fics).

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Nope!

10. Do you write crossovers?

Yes! I love the kind of crossover where, rather than characters from different stories meeting each other, you just replace the characters from one story with the characters from another. My most recent, a FMA/Firefly crossover, is coming to mind - FMA characters replace the Firefly characters and go through the same basic plot as the first episode of Firefly. Another one I'm really proud of is "All We've Got to the End of the Line," where I put the Elric brothers in Steve and Bucky's position, and vice versa.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Years ago, there was one fic of mine that got translated into Spanish, I think.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes, though unfortunately most of the co-written fics I've worked on have not gotten finished before the relationship fell apart :/

But a huge shout-out to @sergeanttomycaptain, who helped me brainstorm my Whole Shards series and even wrote large chunks of it herself, though she's not "officially" a co-writer.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

My longest running OTP is Royai <3 I'll always love them and what the understated subtlety of their relationship has taught me. A very honorable mention goes to Staron - though admittedly, a lot of the stuff I love most is stuff I had to come up with myself because of how the canon ruined Sharon's character -_-

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

Years ago, I started writing a Haibane Renmei fic with a full cast of OCs, just because I wanted to explore that world more and try my hand at writing a story even halfway as uplifting and wholesome as that. Unfortunately, there was never really any plot to speak of, so while I really like the characters I came up with, I have no idea where to go with it, and probably never will because I have too many stories to write that I do know what I want to do with. Alas, Kabe the Sin-Bound Haibane will probably be consigned to the dust forever.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I think I'm good at writing endings, and judging from people's reactions, I'm pretty good at making people cry! But like...in a healing/comforting sort of way. I also think I have the strength of tenacity (or stubbornness, if you'd rather), to finish what I set out to do even if it takes a really long time.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Fights/action scenes. Intentional humor. Differentiating dialogue/thoughts so it really sounds like the character.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I'm always paranoid about doing that, even if I have a decent enough grasp of the language that I'm completely sure I know what they're saying ^^' But then, I'm the kind of person who will write something in English, my native tongue, and then second-guess whether that's actually the way to say it or whether I sound like an idiot. I'm trying to loosen up about such things, though, because more diversity in a fic makes it more fun.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Final Fantasy X. I started writing a novelization of the game before I even knew what I was doing was fanfiction!

20. Favourite fic you've written?

Ohhhh, that's really hard to narrow down. But one of the fics that's nearest and dearest to my heart is the fic I'm currently in the process of posting, Take Me In. Please consider reading it if you like Captain America!

Tagging @dairogo, @x-i-l-verify, and @x-rainflame-x if you'd like to do this!

[he-is-lightning-in-a-bottle]

Plz send halp.

I have fallen down a MewTul rabbit hole and I can't get out.

Things Mew has said about his faen:

~Has blood type O (Tul's blood type is O)

~Lives in NYC (Tul lives in NYC)

~Was with him at New Year's (Tul was with him over New Year's)

~Is currently not active in the entertainment industry (Tul has retired to finish grad school)

~Thai reporters probably already know his faen (Tul is already known to Thai reporters)

~Does not like or play football (Tul hates football)

~Have met each other's parents (They've obviously met each other's parents)

~Is sulking because Mew is slow to answer his phone (Tul has several times, quite publicly on social media, sulked over Mew not answering his calls)

~The most expensive thing he bought his faen was a bag worth 100,000 baht (He bought Tul a Bottega Veneta bag worth 100,000 baht)

~His faen sent him a video of them singing Blood Type B in English that day (earlier that same day Tul posted then deleted a video of himself singing Blood Type B in English to his IG Stories, ie he probably meant to DM it to someone or filter who saw it)((THIS IS VERY SPECIFIC AND WHAT ARE THE CHANCES))

~He's traveled abroad with his faen (Mew and Tul have been to both Vietnam and NYC together)

~Their love blossomed while filming Ocean Eyes (Tul also worked on Ocean Eyes)

~They don't announce their relationship but they don't hide it either. They go out in public together and it's fine if fans see them together. (Fans have spotted Tul and Mew together many times, and they both appear in each other's and other's IG stories often. Meanwhile, there aren't any consistent fan sightings of Mew with anyone else.)

Things that make me go hmmm:

Mew has twice called Tul his "baby" in English.

Mew has said his happiest memory is in Chiang Mai (he and Tul just went there together over New Year's).

When at the hotel together in Vietnam over Christmas, Mew shared an IG story of the hotel's pianist and violinist performing Perfect by Ed Sheeran with the note that he had been the one to make the request. (Odd request for dinner entertainment with your bro, not so odd if you're with your faen.) Later Tul shared an IG story of a pic of NYC skyline with a clip of Ed Sheeran's Perfect playing over it. Mew later posted a throwback photo dump from Vietnam on his IG and in the pic from the Regent resort gym, you can see Tul reflected in the mirror as the person snapping the pic. Fans also have pics of them in the hotel together. And yet despite all this proof they were in Vietnam together, Tul posted a photo dump of NYC Christmas pics to make it seem like he wasn't there. Why the subterfuge?

Mew repeatedly posts to and tags an IG account (@growaswegoooooooo) with romantic language "You complete me. I complete you. We complete each other." "I'm already missing you" etc. The account was created during Mew's trip to visit Tul in NYC last October. None of the pics have selfies in them, but they are most often of places he and Tul have been together. Like Vietnam over Christmas, Chiang Mai over New Year's, and even NYC during October. He even posted pics of an overnight stay at a small B&B in Cold Spring, NY that were taken on Tul's birthday with pics of Tul's Bday cake (the one he posted himself holding a week later with the semi-nude IG pics) and a flower bouquet (how many bros buy bouquets for their bros on their birthdays?? while staying at quaint, secluded upstate B&Bs?? and apparently doing an almost nude photo shoot together??). In another pic, the account's "where we had our first brunch together in Chiang Mai" pics showed the table set up from Tul's POV, and Mew posted the table set up from his POV with a bit of Tul's shirt and arm in it on his primary IG story, and fans had pics of the two of them at that restaurant wearing those exact clothes. The mystery IG account is clearly run by Mew and heavily features Tul while not actually showing either of them.

If Mew's faen lives in NYC and isn't Tul, why did Mew spend Tul's entire winter break with him in Vietnam and Chiang Mai? Why not spend the holidays with his faen?

If Mew's faen isn't Tul, who else was 1) with him while filming Ocean Eyes, 2) famous enough that Thai reporters would know them, 3) no longer currently active in the entertainment industry, 4) also living in NYC, 5) also with him over New Year's in Chiang Mai, and 6) type O blood? That's just too many coincidences stacked on top of each other. You could argue it was an Ocean Eyes crew member from NYC who is also friends with Tul, but why would Thai reporters know a random set employee?

If Mew's faen isn't Tul, why create that secondary IG account using romantic language and tie it so closely to Tul?

If Mew's faen isn't Tul, then what's with all these weirdly specific answers that only apply to Tul? If they were an onscreen couple I'd immediately dismiss it all as fan service, but they have NOTHING TO PROMOTE together. They're clearly good friends in the very least, but he's got to know how his answers sound.

What is going on??

[scottsummersevents]

For the Sexy Days of Summers Event happening right now we've invited Scott Summers (Cyclops) fans to take part in spreading more love for him out there on the internet by creating fanfiction, fanart, fan works, etc. to celebrate our favorite X-Men leader and the possibility of what if. For the duration of this challenge so far we've received some really incredible submissions with super rare pairings that are new to us. For the month of September we'd like to share some of those and also share some various fandom creations along the way in terms of content. Some might be an old favorite pairing while others might be something in terms of shipping you've never considered before.

Today's spotlight pairing is another a fun rare one that's got a lot of potential!

Below under the cut you can take a look at this pairing and see what fun it could prove to be!

Also if you have a favorite Scott pairing and a fanfic that you've written or that you love, then feel free to drop us a note and let us know so we can showcase it in the future!

Stay tuned for more duo spotlights coming soon!

If this is what we've got, then what we've got is gold by StormXPadme  (Rated E) In which Kurt comes back to the X-Men just in time to stop Scott from going to Alkali Lake and the two of them discover, they have a lot more to in common than a shitty family background.

Pit•y by Skelskeleton (Rated G) He assumes Scott is just taking pity on him when he makes the first move, but is it really that?

With you, without you by Skelskeleton (Rated T) Scott had tried to make an effort to not stare whenever he passed him, he tried to never speak to him. He tried everything his parents had told him to do, but he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to see, wanting to talk. AKA: Scott joins the circus

Narthex by orphan_account (Rated T) But none of them are as awe struck as Scott when Kurt takes the stand. He watches the blue man as he steps onto the podium preparing the sermon on the sheets of paper in front of him. And the only thought that Scott has is that ‘he is so beautiful’

Reflections and Resolution by fanboi214 (Rated E) Kurt Wagner wakes up naked and alone in a bizarre wintery candy shop. It soon becomes apparent the sweet treats have the ability to alter his mind and body because unbeknownst to the fuzzy blue mutant he's nabbed the staring role in Mojoverse's new exhibitionist ratings bonanza

Where is it? by Neorulez (Rated M) Scott hasn't been the happiest person around so Kurt decides to mess with him but when Scott car goes missing he immediately assumes Kurt. Requested by: Vampygurl402

Missing You by actualkoschei (Rated G) Kurt travels with Mystique, and writes letters home.

Smile, The Worst Is Yet To Come (Rated E) Once upon a time, a nineteen year old kid traveled from the cold shoulder of Germany to the baking heart of America to find his love. His name was Kurt - and his name was Scott.

Christmas Party Blues by BotchedExperiment (Rated T) Kurt regretted letting Scott drag him downstairs for the party.

You Hold Moonlight in Your Hands by orphan_account (Rated T) Scott asks Kurt to the school dance, or at least he tries... it's a little more complicated than intended.

Colours by h311agay (Rated G) This story is based off of Halsey's song, Colors.

Gifts and Mementos by xenosaurus (Rated G) There's a lot of love in every physical thing Kurt owns.

Cream Soda by xenosaurus (Rated G) Scott worries, even when he doesn't have to.

first (and last) time for everything by Enterprising (Rated G) Kurt's never been on a Ferris wheel before, and as it turns out, there's a good reason why he shouldn't.

A Brittle Light, but A Light Nonetheless by fandomtothethirteenthpower (Rated M) Kurt and Scott's adventure out to the festival turn horrible, and it takes Scott's tender loving to help Kurt through it.

A Drive Home by BotchedExperiment (Rated G) Kurt starts feeling sick at school so Scott brings him home.

contrition by orphan_account (Rated M) and what is your sin, kurt wagner?

Different, But Beautiful by DaveCumstaine (Rated E) Kurt's not the most confident person when it comes to appearance, so when Scott shows him the smallest bit of interest, Kurt thinks its a joke. Scott, however, proves him wrong.

Clothes Make the Man by froggidy (Rated G) ScottKurt fic about Kurt wearing Scott's jacket. It's a start to a beautiful thing.

Boys of Summer by ekgc (Rated E) "Let me just start by saying that i, Scott Summers, had never been naked in front of anybody before. Well, besides in the showers at my old school, but that's different. I mean like, i never had been the naked center of attention of somebody else, and it was a lot stranger than i could have imagined. I also couldn't have imagined that the first person ever to see me naked would have been a boy, even less that it would have been a blue boy. But the strangest part of it all is that i was kind of enjoying it, and it was starting to show."

filled my heart with a kiss by Enterprising (Rated T) It had been Kurt's first kiss, Scott realises with growing horror. He'd stolen Kurt's first kiss during spin the bottle, of all things.

Take the Long Way Home by orphan_account (Rated T) Kurt's feeling lonely and ugly, and other bad things, so Scott decides to take him on a nice long drive, to show him how special he is. There's nothing Scott loves more than Kurt laughing as he speeds down the highway, nothing he loves more than seeing Kurt's eyes reflect the moonlight, as they stare at constellations, and Kurt teaches him the German words for them :)

German Rain by vintagealaska (Rated G) "Scott manages to study him but not make him feel like a lab rat or a freak show and yet Kurt still can’t just let go. Let himself be in love with Scott. Kurt looks like a demon - tail and all. His skin is strange. His hands are stranger. Even after all these years, he catches himself feeling as though his skin is glued to him and all he wants to do is rip out of himself and look like a normal person. Like Scott. Like Scott Summers who looks like a normal teenage boy, who can simply put on glasses and no one is none the wiser to his mutant nature. Kurt could never do that, all the disguises in the world can’t help him. People will always stare. They will always pull faces or whisper disparaging comments as they pass him in the street. He doesn’t want that for Scott."

Brownies by Wolfsheart for scottxlogan (Rated T) One of the teens going on a field trip to the city with all the other teachers and students accidentally leaves behind her pot brownies meant for later that night at the hotel. Scott finds them instead and not having Logan's or Hank's extraordinary sense of smell, just thinks they're really tasty.

And others up at AO3 here.

[martsonmars]

Happy Sunday, friends! And happy Easter/bunny day/chocolate day/egg hunt day to those who celebrate <3

Thank you to everyone who keeps tagging me even though I keep going MIA, and thanks @hushed-chorus and @stitchyqueer for the tag today! I'm still struggling with writing, but this past week I started two new WIPs and had some ideas I'm really excited about, so I'm feeling a bit hopeful. Sharing something from both my new WIPs (so a thousand sentences and not 6) because I miss validation hahaha.

1. Story I started writing on Friday to process my feelings about something that happened that day. I don't know when I'll continue it because I need to be in the right headspace. This is the end of it, because it's the happiest part and that's what I needed to write 😂

“Right, sorry, I'll leave you to your...” He waves at the storage unit, and Basil can't blame him for the confusion. What do you call something like this? The physical trace of three generations of nostalgia and silences and grief piling up on the shoulders of one. “I'll leave you be.”

But no, this is wrong.

This isn't what Basil meant.

He cannot stay here alone with the ghosts of his past.

“Are you going home?” he asks Simon.

“Dunno,” Simon shrugs. His entire body goes along with it. It makes Basil hope. “Am I?”

That's an opening. An invitation. The chance for Basil to grasp the moment and let himself be.

“I need to eat so much cake that my stomach will hate me for a month,” he says, and Simon's entire face lights up like a kid's on Christmas morning.

“I know just the place.”

Second WIP and tags under the cut!

2. This one was supposed to be fun and flirty but for now it's mostly melancholy feelings. Sharing two snippets because I can't pick one hahaha.

Nine days since he showed up at their monthly showdown in an apron, his mask barely covering a flushed face and a halo of windswept curls making him look like a warrior angel come to bring an end to all sinners.

“Being a hero doesn't pay the bills,” he shrugged, yanking off the apron and throwing it off the roof. (His bicep flexed even more beautifully when it wasn't covered in red spandex.) “And not all of us have the luxury of daddy's money.”

‘Not all of us’ indeed, Baz thought, but he couldn't let the way those words were affecting him show. He couldn't stop embodying the image of the perfect villain he'd worked so hard on, or what would be left?

//

This shouldn't surprise Baz either. It doesn't.

Of course this is the kind of place that would make him feel at home, because isn't it what heroes do?

The real heroes, not the ones hiding in comic stripes and showy clothes and sensational acts that break more than they fix. Not the untouchable ones.

But the heroes who know that the only way to change the world in a way that matters is to hold out a hand when people fall even though you can't fix the bumps in the road that made them falter.

To help them stay afloat and swim to shore even though you can't relieve them from the weights that are sinking them down.

I hope I can finish this one soon!

@wellbelesbian @urban-sith @tea-brigade @sillyunicorn @mostlymaudlin @facewithoutheart @palimpsessed @otherpeoplesheartachept-2 @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @forabeatofadrum @johnwgrey @fatalfangirl @prettylightsbigcity @whatevertheweather @confused-bi-queer @moodandmist @bookish-bogwitch @letraspal @dragoneggos @captain-aralias @takitalks @cutestkilla @ileadacharmedlife @gekkoinapeartree @bazzybelle @aroace-genderfluid-sheep @basiltonbutliketheherb @ivelovedhimthroughworse @nightimedreamersworld @artsyunderstudy @ionlydrinkhotwater @yellobb @orange-peony @ic3-que3n @whogaveyoupermission @yeonjunenby @erzbethluna @larkral @chen-chen-chen-again-chen @shrekgogurt @raenestee @onepintobean @theearlgreymage @technetiumai @jbrrring @brilla-brilla-estrellita @thewholelemon @theimpossibledemon

[crawlspacefics]

Twenty Questions for Fic Writers

Thank you @iwrestledavongonce for nominating me :)

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Lucky 13

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

460,677

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Almost exclusively Sailor Moon.  I have a few other stories for Gargoyles and Legend of Korra that will probably never see the light of the internet.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Cruelty and Fairness of Fate (surprising no one)

Much Ado About Dragons

Tangled Web

Dreams/Upon Waking (combo posting of both stories)

How the Dragon Queen Stole the Winter Festival

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do!  It took me a minute to realize that feature was available, but I love that I can answer questions, geek out about these characters I love, or just say thank you 🥹 because I really appreciate when people leave comments.  

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Dreams - nobody was happy and Makoto was spirling.  

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Much Ado About Dragons - Rei’s fairytale had a classic happily ever after

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not really.  There were a few people back in the day on FF.net who took exception to teenagers having sex (have they actually read/watched the series?) or Makoto getting pregnant and being allowed to be happy in the end.  But other than that, most interaction has been really good.  

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I did once, sort of.  They got interrupted. 😅 But my writing filter is set to “fade to black” after foreplay.  That said, if I can ever get up the nerve to put the words on paper, I’m game.  

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I have never written a crossover, but I’m not opposed to them.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I have!  Or at least I’ve had a few people ask, don’t know if they ever completed the project.  I believe it was for Spanish and Chinese.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes!  My wife is also an SM fanfic writer, so we had to collaborate at least once.  The result was Definitions of Longing and Desire.  A fun little romp through post-baby hormones.

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

Ami/Makoto.  I don’t know what got me onto these two, but this ship means the world to me for so many reasons.  

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Every WIP I’ve got going will be finished.  It may just take a really long time.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Characterization.  I think I’m good at catching the character’s voices most of the time, though I find some a lot harder than others.  And fleshing out their backgrounds/families/the world they live in.  I like to think my OC’s (main characters’ families mostly) have just enough personality but don’t take over the story.*

*The one exception is Ami’s mother in the most recent series of stories.  She became a main character because I wanted to pair her up with Setsuna.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I love exposition.  Sometimes a little too much.  I need to get a little more action in and do a better job with economy of words in dialogue heavy scenes.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I’m not opposed to it.  Like any other element, as long as it fits.  It’s probably not something I’d do, but never say never.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Probably Guiding Light.  I’ve been putting stories on paper since middle school, and the soap operas I watched with my Grandmother were the first ones I wrote for.  Sailor Moon was the first fandom I shared the writing with.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

This is hard and will change every time I’m asked.  Dreams is the one that first comes to mind.  I just really like the premise.  Christmas Cheer is another that just makes me smile.  I had a ton of fun with Christmas Elf Rei, and the Setsuna/Serenity segment makes me cry every time even though I wrote it.  LOL

[nancypullen]

Oh, Fall, I Love You

Our high today was 64 degrees. A moment of silence, please, in honor of the passing of summer. Hallelujah and amen. Prior to the birthday festivities I was swapping out porch decor, packing away pink and sweet in favor of autumn and Halloween. This beauty fluttered right past me and I wanted to break into a happy dance.

Hello, lover.

I don't have mums yet, and I'm hesitant to put them out just before leaving on vacation. I think if I give them a good dunking the day before we leave they'll survive. In keeping with my full-bodied embrace of autumn, I picked up another cheap print at the local auction. This was $2.

Just a cheerful, sunny harbor town. Not for long!

I've already roughed in a moon, a few pumpkins, a ghost coming out of a chimney, dressed the trees in autumn glory, and added some friendly neighborhood witches.

It's still in the early stages. Lots of loose blobs that will be refined.

That sign over the storefront may say "WANDS" or "FRESH TOADS" if I can make letters that tiny. I'll make a witch silhouette crossing the moon and maybe add some bats to the sky. It's just plain fun.

Couldn't be easier. Find an old print at your local Goodwill or yard sale. Decide what you'd like to add to spook it up, then make your space for them. I use gesso ( the stuff you prep a canvas with, allows the paint to move and spread more freely) to just sort of make a rough shape and then paint over that.

I feel like I should start looking for old prints and adding snow to rooftops, Christmas lights, and Santa and his reindeer sailing overhead. The possibilities are endless! Okay, enough of my nonsense. You know I'm happiest when I'm slapping paint around, whether it's on furniture, a canvas, or these old prints. BUT, we have just a few days left before we cross the pond and wander around Ireland. I have so much to do. For some reason I always feel the need to clean the house top to bottom before leaving, I need to lay in cat supplies for the gal who will be stopping by to feed and scoop, I'm about half packed and all I really need to add to my bag is toiletries, socks, and the jacket I decide to take. I really don't want to grocery shop before we depart. I'd rather clean out the frig and just eat whatever we have. That might mean soup and sandwiches for dinner a couple of nights, but that wouldn't kill us. Honestly, I'd be quite happy with popcorn or scrambled eggs. I don't much care for dinner. I'm also trying to crank out a few cards for some folks who requested them, and I feel like those need to go out within the next day or so. I've got some earrings to ship, and ohmygosh I'm running out of time! For someone with nothing to do most of the time I suddenly have too many things on my list. Ugh. It'll all get done, I just hate throwing myself into an airplane seat already exhausted. I need a wife to take care of all this. I'll have to finish this rambling post tomorrow. Somehow 10pm managed to sneak up on me and my buns should be soaking in a hot bath. My first day as a 60 year old was so busy that I forgot to be 60. I'll try again tomorrow. That's just a silly reminder that age doesn't mean a dadgum thing. I'm the same knucklehead I was at 59. Meet me back here tomorrow! I may have something of substance to share by then. No promises. I do have some birthday fun to talk about, and a hilarious grandgirl story. Until then, stay safe, stay well, and go get a pumpkin. It's time. XOXO, Nancy

[rgrdsalxndra]

20 Questions: Fanfiction Author Edition

Tagged by the wonderful miss @cicinicole-14

1. How many works do you have on ao3?

187.

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

1,610,309

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Law & Order SVU (and OC)

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Getting to Know You

Mastaba

Love You Still

In Treatment

Meet the Parent(s)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I generally do try to respond to all comments. If you take the time to write me more than "Update soon!" or "I love this" I will respond in kind. Not that I don't appreciate the "I love this" comments, but the "Update soons!" on a recent chapter kinda drive me a little crazy.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

One that both lives and dies in my drafts. I don't know if I could have the heart to publish something that doesn't have a happy ending. There's too much of that in the world already.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Love Sometimes Steals Into A Heart

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Sometimes.

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Yes. I try to branch out into various kinds.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

With another fandom? I have a Addison Shepherd/Olivia Benson ship that I haven't shared with the world but in glimpses in "Neglected Spaces"... and I did write that one crossover with Chicago.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don't think I have... but if I have, I'm relying on my friends to tell me so I can report it. People pour their hearts and souls and creative blood into fics and if you steal it, you're the scum of the earth.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not that I'm aware.

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

Yes. I love working together with another creative mind and weaving words together. It's fun and sometimes makes you glance at things from different angles.

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Currently? It's EO. (ElliotxOlivia) but I've got to say that Burzek is a close #2 but they need more fics.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

It's my goal to finish ALL WIPS before I fade into oblivion one day.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I think I'm good at putting you there in the moment. But honestly? I think half of everything I write is shit, but I love writing so I selfishly write the stories that I want to read (and don't read them after they're finished).

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I CANNOT WRITE A ONE-SHOT TO SAVE MY LIFE.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

Only if it's because they're travelling somewhere and communication in the other language is absolutely necessary but I'd want to find a fluent speaker to double-check.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Harry Potter.

20. Favorite fic you've ever written?

It's a split between these three: Call It Bittersweet

Christmas Ghosts: An EO Christmas Carol

and DEAR YOU, LOVE ME

I'm supposed to tag people. But I hate tagging others. I never know how many times they've been tagged.

[rusialeksis]

Fan Gathering - League of Legends

Hey everyone,

As part of our discussion on postmodern culture and fandom, I wanted to share my amazing experience attending a League of Legends fan gathering. Unfortunately, I have not yet attended an anime convention, but I have participated in a fan gathering few years ago, while I still lived in Greece. So long story short, I've been playing League of Legends since I was a kid, and it’s still a big part of my life. Whenever I have free time, you can find me playing the game, exploring new strategies, and mastering my favorite champions. I’m so invested in the game that I even read each champion's stories to understand them better. I have been part of tournaments where I have played 1v1 or as teams against other and have won trophies, which made me feel that sometimes games are not as decribed by others a waste of time, but a part of my life. So, when I heard about a League of Legends fan gathering at a mall in Greece, I knew I had to go.

From the moment I arrived, I felt the excitement. The event was buzzing with energy, and the atmosphere was electric. Fans from all over had gathered, united by their love for the game. It was amazing to see how a simple game had grown into something so big, bringing people together.

The best part was seeing the champions of League of Legends come to life. There were people dressed as my favorite champions—Katarina, Lux, Darius, and Wukong—with amazing costumes. They even imitated the champions’ famous phrases with the right voices. Hearing Katarina’s “Violence solves everything,” Lux’s “Shine bright like the dawn,” Darius’s “Strength above all,” and Wukong’s “Every mistake is a lesson” felt like I was in the game.

Walking around the gathering, it felt like the game was more than just a game. It had become a shared experience, a community, and a world we all belonged to. The cosplayers did an incredible job, and it felt like I was interacting with the actual champions.

One of the best moments was meeting a cosplayer dressed as Katarina, by far my favorite champion. Her costume was perfect, and she had Katarina’s fierce attitude. When she said Katarina’s lines, I got chills. It felt like the champion herself was right in front of me. We talked about our favorite moments in the game and shared some tips. It was awesome to connect with someone who loved the game as much as I did.

This is not a real picture from the fan gathering, I just wanted to show what Katarina looks like in "real life". Unfortunately, back then I had an old phone and I do not have any picture at all from that time.

This is the actually champion, and her appearance in the game. In this picture we see Katarina in her basic custom which is her default skin. Every champion in this game has multiple skins, which back then you used to have to pay in order to unlock them. Now the game has made changes, and you can unlock this skin by completing missions.

The fan gathering also had booths and activities related to League of Legends. There were stands selling T-shirts and figurines, and I couldn’t resist picking up a few souvenirs. There were also gaming stations where fans could play matches, and it was exciting to watch the battles and also play with others. Everyone there had a deep love for the game, and it was heartwarming to see. After getting into the third place during this gathering, me and my teammates were awarded a $10 paysafe card each, which is like a gift card that you could use to buy various things online. I used it to buy the newest Katarina's skin back then which was made specifically for Christmas. One of my happiest days I could say. I have the picture of the skin below.

There was also a panel with well-known players and content creators from the League of Legends community. They shared their experiences and insights about the game. Listening to them made me realize how much League of Legends had grown beyond just being a game. It had become a platform for creativity, friendship, and even professional opportunities.

Reflecting on my experience, I realized that what made it special was the sense of community and belonging. Being surrounded by people who shared my passion for League of Legends was empowering. It reminded me that gaming is not just about playing; it’s about connecting with others and forming friendships. It was also our everyday discussion topic in the morning with my friends at school.

In conclusion, attending the League of Legends fan gathering in Greece was unforgettable. It was more than just an event; it was a celebration of the game and the community. Seeing my favorite champions come to life, interacting with fellow fans, and being part of such an enthusiastic community made me appreciate League of Legends even more. It’s amazing how a game can bring people together and create a shared world where we all belong.

Thanks for reading, and I hope you get to experience something similar someday!

[obsidowen]

An important part of me died today, I’m sat here truly broken, what once was still yours was taken without remorse, guilt, consideration or second thought, you made that very clear, that despite you having already been in my shoes, to know what this feels like, to not talk for weeks and me beg for a second chance to start anew, you re-enacted without a shred of guilt - i knew this would happen, i warned you way back when as his intentions were made clear from the beginning whether you realised it or not. He heard my feelings for you every single day, acted like he cared and it still happened, there was nothing accidental about what happened today, but alas the day has come, the flower garden has withered, this was the final breath to blow it all away, i wanted nothing more than to love you, to allow my heart its truth, but you fought my feelings at every turn no matter how pure of a place they came from, i know im not perfect and made my fair share of mistakes, but thats all they were, mistakes and i apologised for that, ensured they wouldnt be repeated and sought forgiveness, i know this isnt your fault and is a result of your own traumas, but it doesnt excuse your detachment and ignorance of my emotions throughout, im sorry you felt like you had to do all of this, id never wish wrong on you, but i hope you can figure this out on your own as theres more going on than meets the eye, ive been hurt enough, i couldn’t eat or sleep for weeks wondering if you were okay, you left me 3 times and i still feel like in your eyes im the villain of this story despite pouring my heart into making you happy.

Nonetheless, despite it all i dont regret meeting you, nor a second of our time together, you truly were a special part of my life and ill treasure that, every second we were together marked the new happiest point in my life, but our love was karmic and it had to balance out the joy at some point. i wish you a merry Christmas and a happy new year, i truly hope 2024 will bring you the happiness i know you sorely yearn for, i hope if we meet again, we’ll meet as old friends and this will be nothing but a bad dream… but that’ll be a long way away now.

[asmallhobbitruinedmylife]

Grief

Words I found in my old journal when asked to write about grief, It's still relevant.

I keep trying to explain this feeling but there is no way to put it into words.  I'm at a total loss without you, I don't think people understand how true that statement is. After all these years I'm still waiting for you...waiting for you to show up and tell me it will all be okay.  I don't see the point of most things in life because I don't get to share them with you.  I want to do new things but in truth.. I want to do anything that brings me closer to you.  I'm still seeing my grief counselor, she says I'm experiencing delayed grief, and that I put it aside to carry on with my life. I think she knows as well as I do, I didn't put anything aside, yes I carried on at work, but I dropped out of uni, I didn't go to your house for forever, I didn't sleep in my own bed for weeks, I didn't delay anything...I was as destroyed then as I am now.  I think it's all this notion of 'it gets easier with time', it'll be 4 years this September, and each day my chest gets heavier... see for me the more time goes on, the more you miss. I keep these things in my head of things you've missed as if you are going to stroll through my door and I can finally catch you up on it all. 

Truth is, it was never a thought that someday I might have to live without you...you were my constant in life. You were my person. So now I feel like I'm fumbling through a blacked-out room still trying to reach for your hand to guide me rather than find the switch.  I'm still hurt that you didn't stay, I wonder if I had known what was going to happen and I begged you to stay, you would have loved me enough to stay. It still hurts that I wasn't enough.  You were my big brother, not through blood, but through choice. I looked up to you...now what?!  I can't explain this pain to people and I hate that I have to live with it, there was life before that day and now there is just after.  I'm not saying I'm all doom and gloom, I have a lot of love in my life and laughter, but even when something happens that makes me laugh or when I achieve something my first thought is always you, no matter how much I try and deny that.  I still can't look at pictures of you, they are all still tucked away, I have no fear of forgetting how you looked...I still see you every day.  It's nice to talk about you though and it's one thing people never get, I'd be happy to talk about you all day if I could but it makes people uncomfortable and I end up comforting them. I wish people asked me about you, asked me questions or asked for stories about us..I really do, I don't know if that's healthy or normal but I wish they asked so I could get some of it out in the open rather than just my head.  I never thought I'd hate Christmas but now holidays like that just make me notice the empty chairs, why is it that on the happiest days that grief creeps up on you still, wedding days and christenings...you are still missing from them all.  I keep telling myself that we will meet again and that I can tell you all my different stories, I hope that's true. I don't have a god to believe in, but I'll hold onto the fact that at somepoint we will be together again.  Grief...it's an odd thing; when people talk about it, it's always spoken about as if you'll feel it and then move on. I think it's just something that stays with you, maybe some people come to terms with it and can move forward...but it's always there like a gloomy parrot on your shoulder.  I don't expect this to get easier and in some ways that comforts me, at least now I know where I stand with grief, it's here to stay, I don't have this pressure of getting over it. Growing up and hearing these different stages of grief and mourning you go through, I can recognize them...sure I've dealt with them all and I'm still dealing, but talking as if you go through them all and then it gets better is a load of crap. 

I don't know maybe I'm still in them, but I still feel them all and I don't think they go away...they just become more white noise or overpowered by other things. The last one, acceptance, I accept this is how life is now. I lost you, my best friend..my person, I get that my life will go on without you, I know I have a lot more people who love me and who I love....I get all that and I have plans for my future. But I will still carry the weight of this pain, this will never go away. There will always be a part of me missing and I live with that, but this whole notion of working through it and it will get easier in time, maybe. Or maybe you just start hiding it better so you don't have to burden others.