#once again having all the correct addams family takes

[lucasbeinekehonorarygoth]

I had a thought last night: Wednesday and Lucas QPR

oh hell yeah

[weemsfreak]

𓉸

Happy October, loves! In honour of my favourite time of year, here is a short spooky Larissa Weems x f!reader where Laurel Gates lives on...but as does Larissa.

It is based around a quote from the 1991 Addams family, and follows Season 1 of Wednesday where Joseph Crackstone is no longer. Season 2 calls for more mystery and gore? I say add Larissa's revenge. ~3.6k words

𓉸

"So I was thinking, since last Outreach day ended in disaster with the statue and all, perhaps we could do without an unveiling. Perhaps we could plan something sincere, something that may bring normies and outcasts together in a…"

You picked up your Weathervane hot chocolate, taking a sip.

"Darling?"

Recently, you have been feeling uneasy, if that was the correct word for it.

Uneasy when out in the town of Jericho, but also within the walls of Nevermore.

"Yoo-hoo? Darling?"

Last outreach day had been a disaster, and there had been numerous disasters that followed.

Still, she insisted on organizing another.

Why you agreed to help? You could never wrap your head around it.

You hoped November would never come.

Your gaze shot to blue as a hand softly landed on yours.

"What do you think?"

Blinking, you looked out the window, and then around the coffee shop.

"I think, um- maybe we shouldn't have an Outreach day this year, Larissa."

Her smile dropped to a frown, confusion evident on her face.

"Why not?"

You shook your head. You'd never want to disappoint her, but you had a feeling, a horrible feeling; a feeling of dread and death.

You only had this feeling few times before,

but you weren't about to tell her that.

꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒷꒦

The new mayor of the town was…nice.

He was always smiling.

He was always helpful.

He was always weary.

Him, along with the students and residents of Jericho, were weary of the outcasts; as if they hadn't been before.

It was worse now, due to that night. Which was ironic, considering it wasn't the outcasts who were responsible.

Still, Larissa insisted on getting to know the new mayor, insisted on forming a cooperation with him.

He had rejected the idea of a cooperation.

He had rejected the idea of outcast and normie relations.

He had rejected the idea of an Outreach day; until he agreed.

You found yourself in the town, picking something up from the mayors office to deliver to the oh so busy Principal Weems.

As you walked down the decorated streets eager to return to Nevermore, you caught sight of red hair entering an alley way.

Crossing the road and making your way past Uriah's heap, you were about to turn down the alley when a boy brushed past, making you stumble back.

He walked slowly down the sidewalk, as if he had nowhere to be, yet determined to be somewhere at the same time.

Something within you knew that he was...familiar.

Trailing behind, you followed to the town square, to the church, and then, he stood.

Confused, you hid behind a close building, peeking around the corner.

Your brows furrowed as you realized that he seemed just as confused as you were, until he gazed directly at you and you faltered.

His face was crazed, he was foaming at the mouth. He looked sweaty and wild, uncontrollable.

Your heart skipped a beat as you concluded that he was standing exactly where the statue of Joseph Crackstone had stood last outreach day, and he gave you a wide smile.

Hiding around the corner of the building again, you closed your eyes as you breathed deeply.

Jericho was no longer the town that you knew; although it was the town that it always had been.

Secretive, unaccepting, and murderous.

Peeking around the corner once more, you were relieved to find nobody staring back at you.

As you high tailed it for Nevermore, you couldn't help but think few things:

One - Larissa could NOT hold an Outreach day.

Two - You were beginning to believe that you were losing your mind; not nearly as fun as you had anticipated.

And Three - That boy you saw, was dead.

꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒷꒦

Pushing open the doors to her office, you walked straight up to her desk.

"How was your trip into town?"

You let the papers fall onto her desk, trying not to lose your composure.

"We cannot hold an Outreach day."

With the tilt of her head and twitch of her lip, she furrowed her brows.

"You keep saying this, yet you're helping me plan it."

Taking a deep breath, you tried your best to convince her.

"I just, I have a very bad feeling, and I can't-I can't-"

Your best right now was not very good, at all.

Tears fell as you thought about why you shouldn't, why you couldn't.

Long legs carried the woman around her desk as she reached for you, sitting you on the couch in front of the fireplace.

"You can't what, love?"

She would never understand, because she wasn't there to witness it.

She wasn't there to see the fire, blazing in front of her as the dead came back for the living.

She wasn't there to see her students in danger, eyes wide as they feared for their lives.

She wasn't there to see how helpless the outcasts felt, how helpless they were; how helpless you were.

She wasn't there to see Joseph Crackstone and Laurel Gates before her very eyes.

She wasn’t there…

She wasn't there because,

"You almost died, Larissa."

Your words swirled around in the air, heard but not seen.

"But I didn't, and I haven't a clue what this has to do with Outreach day."

Closing your eyes, visions of people came back to you, visions of the dead.

Tears fell from your eyes in frustration, wishing that you could make her understand.

She saw Nevermore in shambles, she had built it back up.

She saw the fear of the aftermath, she had built it back up.

She saw her life flash before her eyes, and so had you.

"It��s just too soon. Students of Jericho high will not stand beside our students, people of Jericho will not stand beside us, and…"

And I will not stand beside you.

That was a lie.

You let your head fall into your hands as you let out a sob.

She gripped your body with all her strength and pulled you to her chest.

"The events of that night are still fresh in your mind, darling" she whispered.

"Joseph Crackstone is gone, we have nothing to fear."

Gripping onto her shoulders, you couldn't help but have fear.

She had almost lost the school.

You had almost lost her.

And you had seen Garrett Gates today,

but you weren't about to tell her that.

꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒷꒦

"Ah Nevermore, we love you so."

Gomez and Morticia Addams sat in front of her desk, Gomez kissing his wife's hand as they did.

"Larissa, it is so wonderful to see you thriving. I don't know what we would've done if you had left us."

Larissa quirked a brow at Morticia's words, looking her up and down.

"Perhaps you would've held a party?" she quipped.

Morticia snickered as she looked to Gomez, "There's the sense of humour that I always adored."

Larissa smirked their way, and silence overtook them as they stared at one another.

"But seriously, we feel awful for what happened."

"The Gates family, all dead" Gomez said.

"Poor Laurel, I can’t help but feel as though we hold some responsibility" Morticia added.

Larissa looked between the two with disdain, but she did feel bad.

"Well, it's done with now, yes?"

She wished they would just get to the matter of Wednesday Addams, yet again.

"Joseph Crackstone shall suffer irreparable consequences. They all shall."

Larissa couldn't help but think that death was enough.

"For what they did to our ancestors? Death will never be enough" Gomez added.

Larissa nodded, clasping her hands together on her desk.

"Well, I believe that we must put the past behind us, and thrive for a better future."

She watched as Morticia stood, approached her, and placed cold hands onto hers, lowering her voice.

"Sic Gorgiamus Allos Subjectatos Nunc. We gladly feast on those who would subdue us."

Blue eyes met brown as Larissa felt a cold spell cast around her.

Morticia waited a moment, then raised a brow as she released her hands from Larissa's warmth.

"Not just pretty words."

꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒷꒦

You accompanied Larissa to Pilgrim world, the new mayor insisted that she attend a pre Halloween 'Sinister Soirée' that he was holding.

She had agreed in hopes of pleasing the mayor, in hopes of getting closer to him for the better of Nevermore.

You knew what had happened 400 years ago, well, to an extent; and so did she.

You couldn't help but despise Jericho in some way, due to its brutal history.

Centuries ago, the pilgrims had hunted and executed those they deemed outcasts: anyone who didn’t fit their strict vision of purity.

You agreed that things weren't always black and white, there were shades of grey.

You agreed that the future didn't have to reflect the past.

But sometimes, you cannot let go of what happened, sometimes you cannot forgive and forget.

“I feel like we shouldn’t be here."

Larissa's grip tightened around yours as you made your way through the entrance.

You thought about her, and how she thrived for the better of Nevermore, the better of outcasts; you admired that.

But all the same, you were conflicted.

How had she been to hell and back, knowing of the injustice, experiencing it first hand; yet keeping the same outlook.

She knew deep down that the outcasts weren't safe.

She knew deep down that she wasn't safe.

"We can leave, Larissa."

She peered down at you through cold lashes as the new mayor approached.

"Principal Weems, so good to see you."

Larissa clasped her hands together in that innocent way that you knew so well.

It was odd, to see her as not Principal Weems, not Larissa, but dressed up in a costume so ethereal and otherworldly, like a ghost from a forgotten era.

"Mayor Winslow, thank you for hosting tonight. Such a fun event!"

You rolled your eyes as you adjusted your outfit, draped in layers of shadows.

"Thank you for coming. I hope you enjoy the haunted crypt walk, and perhaps try some fudge."

꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒷꒦

Strolling down the Cobblestone streets of Pilgrim world, you couldn't help but feel uneasy, so deeply unsettled.

Maybe Larissa should've brought someone who, specifically, had any ability besides the ability to see the dead. Alas, that thought made you jealous.

You had avoided Pilgrim world for so long, and everything in Jericho the like.

Already feeling the cold presence of the dead, it lingered in the air, watching from the shadows of the ancient trees.

You needed a distraction, and you needed it now.

"Oh, the tavern! Can we go in?"

꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒷꒦

You entered the dimly lit tavern, spotting one open table as you sat across from the Principal.

"Pilgrims of the night, what can I get for you?" A voice thick with faux historical enthusiasm.

Your gaze lifted from the pale woman to…a religious fanatic.

The very symbol of zealotry and hatred, Joseph Crackstone himself.

Your eyes widened, hands moving quickly to grip the woman's arm across from you.

Looking down at you, she took your hand in hers, rubbing her thumbs over it soothingly.

"We're alright, love."

Right. It wasn't really him, because Larissa could see him too.

"We're hardly Pilgrims," you managed, gesturing vaguely at yourself.

Larissa eyed you down, a smirk appearing on her face. "No, we certainly aren't" she said, turning her attention to the waiter.

You took in the ambiance of Pilgrim world, shooting her a look as you were, after a short time, fed up with the pilgrim's that surrounded you; those alive and dead.

"It takes a special kind of stupid to devote and entire theme park to zealots responsible for mass genocide."

The waiter then reached your table and set down the drinks, his grin faltering as he raised an eyebrow.

"Who you calling stupid?"

You held his gaze, unflinching, "If the buckled shoe fits."

The principal chuckled softly, shaking her head as she lifted her drink.

"Do behave, darling," she teased, her eyes hinting at your shared disdain for the charade around you.

꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒷꒦

"Line up for the haunted crypt walk!"

You moved outside and stood in line, dragging Larissa with you hand in hand.

Walking through the partially lit up streets, you tried to enjoy your time envisioning the good old days.

Well, they were not good, you supposed; but they were old.

As you strolled, you tried your hardest to forget about your ability, but your ability would never forget about you.

"And here is the old barn, a place where they stored crops, grain, and livestock."

You looked to the right to find the old barn standing strong.

"Unfortunately, it was set ablaze one night containing the livestock, but it has been rebuilt since. Pilgrim world has remarkably been rebuilt to 30% of it's original structure."

Larissa listened to the haunted walk tour guide, before gazing down at your apprehensive, perhaps terrified demeanour.

The barn transformed to a burnt structure, only the frame, floor, and partial walls remaining.

Out of nowhere it was up in flames; hay, crops, animals, and people littered the floor.

The animals looked at you with fear, the smoke clouded your vision, and Larissa, Larissa watched you with tears in her eyes.

You gasped as you kneeled down in front of her.

"There is no time, child."

Taking her hands into yours, you attempted to help her up.

"Leave me, save yourself. He's chained us all to the floor."

People where chained to the floor, outcasts were chained to the floor; with nowhere to run and nowhere to hide.

You pulled with all of your force at the chains before attempting to break them from her wrists.

"I shant leave without you."

Your gaze focused on hers, but it wasn't what you knew.

Her accent filled your ears, but it was old.

Her hair flowed freely, her clothing in tatters.

She had the same sad eyes, but they didn't glisten, they didn't speak to you in the same way.

"Run, avenge us. Find the others and save our future."

You stood as she disappeared from your vision, backing away slowly.

"You are our only hope."

Coughing, you attempted to wave away the smoke as the barn in front of you reverted back to it's present state.

You had thought that the meeting house was the only place where outcasts were burned; of course that wasn't enough.

Turning in fright, you looked for those on the haunted crypt walk, met with only the dark of the night.

Everyone was gone, including Larissa.

"Larissa?"

꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒷꒦

Strolling throughout the streets alone, you couldn't help but think about how lonely it would've been.

But the reality was, you weren't alone.

You could see only them; pale figures standing just beyond the veil of mist, their faces gaunt, hollow-eyed, staring.

They weren’t just ghosts. These were the spirits of pilgrims and outcasts, the ones who had been hunted, burned, and hanged for their abilities.

They were you, and you were them.

Making your way past the ol' haberdashery and fudge shop, you found an old house, one you hoped would be free of the dead and horror.

Entering through the front door, you passed through the keeping room, until you found an open passageway.

It was dark, far too dark for you to see anything; besides the figure of a tall white haired woman.

“Larissa!” you shouted in fear and relief.

You saw her, Larissa, standing in the darkness of a dimly candlelit room, her back turned.

Relief flooded your veins.

“Larissa, thank God” you breathed, running toward her.

“What happened?"

As you neared, something stopped you cold.

Larissa’s body was still, too still; you froze.

The figure turned slowly, and your blood ran empty.

It wore Larissa’s face, her exact face, but her hopeful eyes were wrong.

They were hollow, dead. Her smile was cruel, a twisted mockery of Larissa’s usual painted grin.

“You're just in time for the feast,” the figure said, its voice a low rasp.

You stumbled back, this was not Larissa.

It was something else, something ancient, and it had stolen her form.

“Where is she?” you demanded, voice shaking.

The figure smiled wider. “She is with us now. She is where she belongs.”

Your pulse quickened, you couldn’t lose Larissa again. Not to this place, not to whatever dark force lingered here.

The figure’s form began to shimmer, its edges blurring, and in an instant, it transformed; morphing into the twisted face of an old woman, a pilgrim, her eyes burning with malice.

“You outcasts were always ours” she hissed. “And tonight, we feast.”

The darkness suddenly lit up, your view of pilgrims evident as you watched them feast.

An old dinner table, wood and bone carved forks and knives.

They were eating meat; they were eating outcasts.

“I can see you” you whispered, hoping to keep your voice steady. “I see all of you.”

The dead paused, their hands retreating.

“You think you can subdue us?!”

It was loud, fueled by your anger, you could feel it radiating from the outcasts, radiating from the loss of Larissa.

“You think you can keep us chained here?”

The pilgrim spirit hissed at you, her face contorting with fury.

“You are nothing but prey.”

Your lips twisted into a sinister smile as you backed away.

“We gladly feast upon those who would subdue us.”

꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒷꒦

You awoke outside, feeling the cold hands of the dead that had brushed against your skin.

They pulled you, drug you toward the church.

Your head pounding from the insufferable onslaught, you couldn't remember exactly how or why you had ended up here.

Muffled screams caught your attention as you stumbled toward ancient wood doors.

The church stood as a grim reminder of the village’s past, its stone walls blackened by centuries of dark history.

"Let me out of here!"

There was banging from the inside, but the doors wouldn’t budge.

“Larissa?” you shouted, fear clutching at you.

You would recognize her voice anywhere, even in panic, even when she sounded ghostly.

"Please help" she pleaded, tugging at the doors.

Even in times like these, you couldn't find a way.

You couldn't find a rock, you couldn't find a spell, you were no professional at teleportation; and you learned the meaning of dread.

Even the outcasts couldn't face the fury of those who lived to wrong them.

As you hauled on the wooden doors in hopes of freeing Larissa, they suddenly flew open and sent you back to the ground.

You quickly ran inside, watching in terror as Larissa was summoned; gliding helplessly across the floor and up to the altar of the church.

“I’ve been waiting for you” a voice, low yet warm.

“You are of my blood, and the time has come.”

Larissa was still and wide eyed, held in place as she spoke nervously.

"I can hear you, but I cannot see."

You took a breath, watching as Larissa, the version of her you had earlier spoken to in the old barn, moved until she was inches before the principal.

You swallowed deeply and whispered. "She's right in front of you, Larissa. She looks like you, perhaps your ancestor."

Larissa’s eyes darkened, her body tensing as if something had woken inside her.

She spoke in a way that you have never learned before; she was timid, confused.

“Time for what?” she asked, though you could hear the answer in the dead woman’s silence.

“Revenge,” her ancestor whispered.

Suddenly, the doors of the church slammed shut.

You could feel the dead rising all around. The spirits of the outcasts, those who had been wronged were no longer content to stay in the shadows. They wanted justice, and they had waited long enough.

"Joseph Crackstone may be gone, but Laurel Gates lives on."

Larissa took a shallow breath, retrieving the ability to close her eyes.

"I believe in a better future for outcasts. I'm working to bring outcasts and normies together in…in harmony."

You panicked as she started choking out her words, her breath becoming less as she spoke.

As you placed a hand in hers, her ancestor glided away as a disappointed mother would from her child; just to be peering down at her within a second.

She cupped her cheek with her dead hand, and you wondered if Larissa could feel it.

"It is up to you, my child, but this is a warning. They do not rest, they killed us all, and they now come for you."

Larissa's ancestor faded into the ether, dissolving into nothingness as Larissa herself began to rise, lifted slowly and steadily towards the towering ceiling of the ancient church.

You felt panic welling up inside as you gripped her hand tightly, but it was no use.

Fingers slipped away from hers, powerless to stop her from being pulled higher and higher into the eerie shadows above.

Your breath caught in your throat as you watched Larissa suspended midair, her eyes wide with fear as a faint whisper sounded.

"Sic Gorgiamus Allos Subjectatos Nunc."

Suddenly, as if responding to some unseen command, Larissa was hurled back down to the stone floor and the heavy wooden doors of the church flew open.

You rushed to the woman's side as she sat up in shock.

Kneeling, you watched the weight of the revelation settle over her like a cold fog.

"Laurel Gates lives on."

You placed a hand on her shoulder, gazing into blue as she turned to look at you.

Your voice was soft, and you prayed that she finally understood.

"The normies will reject outcasts, a rift sealed by fate itself. Eternal, unyielding, haunting us with the certainty that acceptance will remain beyond our grasp, evermore."

You cupped her cheek as tears threatened to fall. "We gladly feast."

Larissa’s lips pursed, her gaze narrowing as she stood and pulled you up with her.

She took your hands firmly, her eyes gleaming with a dark, unspoken truth.

"And Laurel," she said commanding, her voice full of dangerous promise as a smile played on her lips, "is just in time for the feast."

[good-night-doll]

Tis the season~

•Part 5–Dancing

: As the Christmas season creeps around the corner, you can't help but want to show your girlfriend all the different activities there are to the season other than decapitating the jolly fat man. 

Requested: No

Word count: 990

Warnings: none

Tis the season for families, couples and friends alike to share their different types of admiration for each other through a special activity- one that dates back to the 3300 BCE, where Egyptians had first incorporated the act in a religious nature.

But in the modern world we've become, dance is more for fun- so humans and animals can communicate through a different type of language that requires no second guessing if done correctly, one that everyone could understand with the right choreographic intent.

And from what Wednesday has told me, she rarely dances. She's said that I could only find her dancing during her pure moments of disgust- that it would have to be under a full blood moon when she'd dissect all her frogs and rats for a disclosed ritual.

So… why not try and have some fun?

We're both sat with content hearts on the couch, a twinkling Christmas tree illuminating the room to a dim, romantic-like setting. Its tinsel glistened and reflected the light source, making it shine ever so bright before fading into the darkness.

The TV is off, but our phone screens dampen our faces with its functions even on the lowest setting.

Our silent breathing mixed into one as our minds work on different things. Wednesday was planning out her novel… another one. And I'm retrieving data from my boss- not the most exciting thing in the world.

She's been emailing me like she was a full blown stalker, but with the correct reasoning for clearance of course. And she's unravelled my nerves enough to gently prod them with her ballistic attempts of threats through the device screen.

I hadn't even messed up anything at work and she's uptight and upset about something, and it has me frustrated.

With a rebellious groan, I throw my phone down on the couch beside me, believing for a moment that if I were to throw the phone, I'd be throwing her absurd accusations away too.

Wednesday had clearly noticed as her head had drawn ever so slightly away from the confinements of her scarf, the tip of her nose peeking at me with certain questioning.

I turn my head, defeatedly as I glance at a blank spot on the wall- its bare surface creating a sense of vengeance in an unforeseen way.

"What's wrong?" Wednesday pipes up, shuffling silently as she awaits a response to her question.

I sigh, still staring at the wall "my boss expects too much of me"

"Isn't that what bosses do? They expect so much from people without putting themselves in their position?" I turn to her, a small glimmer in her dark eyes and a tiny tug at the edge of her Oh-so-kissable lips has me swooning within seconds. "It's Christmas time, like you said, and you said we'd spend the whole time together doing "entertaining" activities- even if they have no significant benefit"

I smile at her attitude, feeling my cheeks stiffen in a sway of admiration. She's right- she's always right! It's Wednesday Addams- the girl has had a toll on our surrounding society for months now and yet she's always right.

"Yeah" I gulp down my guilt, resurfacing with an activity fresh on my mind. "How about we try dancing?"

Wednesday's face almost immediately drops again- going back into that almost robotic-like state as her eyes once again pierce me like a stake to a Vampire's heart. "Dancing" she grumbles.

"Yeah, comn'! I'll teach you!" I beam, my eyes forming crescent moons and minimising my vision into a small crack.

"I know how to dance" she scoffs, standing with her posture as perfect as ever. I watch as she takes a few steps back before she begins to move.

Her movements are stiff but flowy, contrasting in a perfect mix that suited her perfectly. Her arms swayed to her hips and her face stayed strong with no sign of emotion for the duration. But the thing that had me sold the most, was the wide eyed seductive-like glare she shot straight through me. It's as if she's able to see every inch of my brain with that look.

A smile raises my cheeks as I laugh quietly under my breath at her small and oddly seductive choreography.

Grabbing my phone, I open my music and scroll down till I find a song that's calling me. Pressing play, I stand and interrupt Wednesday with a small wave of my hands.

"Put your hands uh-" I guide her hands to my shoulders as I wearily grip her small waist. "Yeah, like that"

"I've never done this before" she quips, a dumbfounded expression playing with her face.

"Well…" I smile "there's a time for everything" I guide her along to the soft Melody, our bodies so close that I could feel the chill of her skin rub against my own even with the gap we have between us.

Her dark but wide eyes are heavily trained on my own, her pink tongue dangerously sticking out to dampen her kissed lips.

I've never seen Wednesday so… perfect before. It's like all the stars in the night sky have realigned to create a beautiful astrology piece. Except Wednesday is far more superior than dozens of flaming balls of light painted across the sky during the night.

"Where did you learn to dance like this?" Wednesday inquires, her eyebrows raising slightly in surprise once I respond, explaining how I learnt to dance in such a way at my uncle's wedding.

"Right foot back, left foot over and across, right foot over and forward" Listing the movements was only a short-lived task as Wednesday had quickly picked up on the repetitive fancy footwork.

We continue to slowly dance our way through the song until it comes to an eventual end where a long silence follows- allowing only the strums of our heartbeats to play the instrument of love for us both.

And it's not like I'm going to complain anytime soon...

[brooklynislandgirl]

"Okay, that's something that we have in common, to an extent. I…don't cook. Maybe 'can't' is…ah… is a more appropriate word. But I can order out like no one's business and my microwave sends me Valentine's cards. With the cat's help but still." One truth deserves another and admitting she gets the struggle helps hold off the question that instantly pops up in her mind, which is to ask ~gently~ if perhaps he's got some sensory issues or mental health struggles that prevent him from developing the skills necessary to cook for himself. Even bringing that up is too close to her own reasoning and something she feels might be entirely too personal to share with a stranger. He rescues her from moral quandary with a soft tease, a play on her own imagination but offers a little insight. While he might not do yoga or tai-chi, at least he recognises the elements. And isn't mean about it. That soft smile grows until she feels the need to cover it with her hand. She can actually see it; he's eloquent and has thus far come across as quite knowledgeable. She should have known. "I think it's a noble profession. Growing minds, spreading information, nurturing kids who sometimes have no one else to care about them. I t'ink…think that's beautiful." She catches her own verbal slip and course-corrects but even the misstep doesn't change the way she gazes at him quietly. She sees how his face changes and she can't find it in her to apologise for making things awkward. Instead she notes that his nose does that thing, and that it's quite unaffected, kind of adorable. But then he deflects and it's funny that he intuitively jumps to the same conclusion she does and cuts her off at the pass. She almost quotes the Addams Family to him but then he smiles and she feels a flood of warmth flicker through her. "Well, I won't tell if you don't." She takes no offense at the plant comment, and stops herself from one of her own long winded diatribes about earth conservation and every person's kuleana. "Uhm. Yeah, me too. About the sea. My…my mother taught me to dance and how to surf almost before I could walk. I couldn't imagine living too far away from the water. Do you still swim during the summers or do pick up some other work, like tutoring?" Beth doesn't answer him right away. She does stop maybe a little too close behind him as he goes through the process of dealing with locks. Her face is in shadow, hard to read, though she does narrow her eyes up at his face. Whatever happens inside of her head unfolds in real time, and for a moment she reaches out, squeezes his arm, then backs away. She walks around the front of his car and to the other side. Opens the door and slides in, placing her purse between her feet. Once he gets inside, she finally regards him again. "So…full disclosure, you'll eventually notice that I tend to watch people's mouths, their eyes. Sometimes, if I'm not staring you in the face I might not hear you at all, or hear something wildly different than what you said. I've got…ah…it's called audio-processing disorder. So…please don't think I'm crazy, it's just people speaking sometimes gets a little muddled between my ears and brains. She tucks a lock of dark hair behind her ear. Within it, there's a small hearing-aid. "And as such, I tend to read more than I watch tv or movies, unless I've got the captions on. That being said…You can have Jeopardy and the Law and Order franchise when you rip them from my cold dead hands. But seeing as you are a serial killer, you might could keep them as a trophy." She raises her hands, palms toward him, and wiggles her fingers.

With the hum of traffic backlighting their conversation, Ben grinned, re-adjusting the well-worn, muted gray scarf around his neck -- a graduation present from Samuel, who'd claimed "every grown-ass man needs a nice scarf in his arsenal" -- before he appraised Ellie within the green tint from the overhead stoplight. "If your heart aches over my coffee situation, you should see my tragic lack of non-boxed dinners," he said. "With my present job, I'm not afforded much time to cook. Thankfully, Sara Lee, Marie Callendar, and Betty Crocker are all there to save the day."

Unsurprisingly, she asked what he did for a living. Ben hesitated a moment, offering a soft laugh at her guesses. "A dog-yoga instructor? I can barely find my own chi, let alone a dog's," he quipped. "Still, I'm afraid it's nothing that romantic...I just teach."

He didn't know why he'd lied. It wasn't that CIA was a particularly top secret job, depending upon the assignment, but he much preferred to name the profession he truly yearned for. The state of public schools had discouraged him from entering the scene altogether, but tending to oftentimes spoiled, irate citizens wasn't much better, if he was being honest with himself.

That was when he realized she'd addressed his eyes... Somehow, the compliment embarrassed him, and with a soft laugh, Ben incredulously scrunched his nose. It wasn't that people had never remarked on them before -- they had -- but when Ellie said so, there was a straightforward sincerity that warmed him from the inside-out. "I have my father's eyes," he softly said. "Not literally, of course...unless we're deciding to go with that whole serial killer angle from earlier." Flashing another lopsided smile, he turned and headed with her up the neighboring street, relieved to find there was a brief reprieve from the wind flooding up and down the intersecting path.

Her remark made him smile. "I've never cared much about cars either, but since I can't really commute to work inside a plant, I suppose I'll have to make do," he teased. "And surfboards? You're a surfer then, I take it? I grew up by the sea, but I tend to just swim without any aids."

Fishing his keys out of his pants' pocket, he approached his beat-up not-so-beauty and inserted the key into the lock. Upon hearing her question, Ben was quick to reply, "Books all the way -- there's no contest. In truth, I haven't watched anything worthy of note in years, and I couldn't tell you the first thing about what's on TV nowadays." He shrugged. "Why watch something when you can completely immerse yourself, instead?" Opening the driver's side of his Buick, he unlocked the passenger door and asked, "Are you going to break my heart and say you're an unshakable, unrepentant TV gal? Is this friendship already over?"

[sharpen-your-hatchet]

Old Wounds - Chapter 4, Wenclair fanfic

Description: Now aged 22, Wednesday Addams is an up-and-coming author. Her time at Nevermore is well behind her, and she is alone, and that suits her just fine...But when a 'new' neighbour shows up in her apartment building, she'll truly be tested on whether her "bad habit" of caring truly has been broken. (Hint: It hasn't.)  

Pairing: Wednesday Addams / Enid Sinclair

Rating: Teens & Up (subject to change in future)

Click Here For Previous Chapter

Click Here To Read This Chapter On AO3 or keep reading below! 

x-x-x-x-x-x

Hours after her chance encounter with Enid, Wednesday remains in the coffee bar. 

  She is curled privately into a corner booth as she nurses her third quad over ice of the evening. Despite the excessive caffeine in her blood, Wednesday always feels a calming peace like this, like an anonymous black widow sat in the safety of its web. The staff here have learned to leave her be - knowing she’ll tip handsomely for the indulgence of not being fussed over… and so, her drinks are offered with a quiet smile, and her empty cups collected all the same. 

  Accounting for her family home and her apartment, this makes the coffee bar her third favourite place to be.  

Though, with Enid now back in the picture, the apartment block becomes…complicated. 

As she watches the world pass her by, Wednesday neatly scribbles into a small notebook - she’s attempting to bring productivity from the stormcloud that lives above her head. Normally she would welcome such darkness, finding that her best words push through during moments of desolation and despair, but knowing the cause of it all leaves a bad taste in her mouth that even the delightfully bitter coffee refuses to budge. 

  She’s in a bad mood… but not the bad kind of mood she enjoys. It is a bad mood brought on from not understanding, from missing a piece of the puzzle, and it all leads back to Enid. Why did she move here? Why is she not with her wolf pack?? Why is she so eager to speak to her again after four years??? These questions plague Wednesday like… well. The plague, in fact. 

  Having the actual plague might be easier to handle than figuring out the feelings and motivations of someone like Enid. 

  Once Wednesday finishes her coffee, one of the employees is quick to approach with the intention of taking away her dirtied cup - It’s a guy with dark wavy hair, probably a similar age to Wednesday, or maybe a few years older. Him and Wednesday have only exchanged a few words in her whole time of being a patron to the coffee bar, as is par for the course considering Wednesday’s general approach to people and social formality…So, naturally he is caught off guard when Wednesday hits him with a look that says ‘Wait’. 

  He stops in his tracks, freezing his outstretched hand in an almost comical fashion. 

  “You.” Wednesday says, purposefully avoiding the use of his name, “I have a question.” 

  The employee - Tom, according to his nametag - looks at Wednesday with a puzzled expression, like a deer in headlights, “Uh…Y-yes?” 

  “I don’t care much for people, and I’m not particularly versed in handling them either… You’re a barista and have the misfortune of dealing with many people everyday, correct?” 

  He nods stiffly. 

  “I’m not approachable, am I?” Wednesday queries, “If you had not seen me for a while, would you talk to me?” 

  Tom nearly lets out a smirk, but catches himself at the sight of Wednesday’s icy stare. He clears his throat coyly, shrugging slightly as he considers his words. 

  “Well… you’re definitely one of our more unique customers. You tip real good so you’re clearly not evil, but you’re kinda, um- You’re kinda different? N-not that that’s a bad thing. I just. You know, I think anyone who doesn’t know you would be kinda scared?” His words are stuttered and tentative; clearly afraid of whatever judgement is about to be passed, but he seems truthful at the very least. 

  Wednesday actually finds it quite complimentary, not that she would admit such a thing. She’s glad to see she is perceived as she wishes: That is, with fear… but it does beg the question-

“What about someone who does know me?” She asks. 

  Tom stares at her helplessly.  He is evidently squirming under the pressure of being the first employee of this establishment to have a conversation with Wednesday that extends past basic formalities. Wednesday quite enjoys his discomfort. 

  “I can’t say…” He offers hesitantly,  “You’ve never brought anyone here with you. Maybe it’s different? I don’t know. Sorry.” 

  Wednesday expression sours very slightly, displeased with the lack of insight. 

“Thank you for your wisdom." She says dryly. 

  She looks back down to her notepad, continuing to scribble notes; Tom looks at her for a moment, perplexed.

“The conversation is over.” Wednesday adds, eyeing him from the corner of her vision. 

  Tom lets out a quiet ‘oh’ before finally collecting her cup and scuttling away. 

  Though the conversation was essentially fruitless, it does stir Wednesday’s brain into motion. She’s unapproachable, and closed off, and in no rush to form strong bonds with anyone beyond the scope of her family - and that is how she prefers it, thank you very much… but perhaps she’s neglecting to remember the way other people are, how they can be in the face of a sudden, exciting revelation. Normal people are strange creatures and are excited by the most menial of things. Besides, It’s not that she cares whether Enid is excited to see her or anything, it’s simply a thought that occurs to her, which would certainly make sense considering their prior history. 

  The raincloud that lives in her brain seems to baulk at that, flooding more pessimism through her veins… Wednesday reminds herself again she herself does not care, that her trail of thoughts leading back to Enid and her motivations are just a game: nothing more than a new mystery to keep herself busy; inspire ideas for her novel. 

  And it satisfies her, to consider it as much. There’s no need for her to probe further into her own thoughts. Not at all. 

  As such, when Wednesday finally leaves the coffee bar and returns to her apartment block, she feels much the same as always - Having brushed away whatever hex overtook her briefly all those hours ago. Once she crosses the threshold into her space, she feels comfort at the sight of her dark decor. The door groans shut behind her: Peaceful quiet found once more. 

  And even better, she is quickly reminded of the soup she left simmering on the stove, as it fills her senses with its deep umami smell. It’s a welcome smell, as her stomach gives an indigent grumble… She has - in fact - neglected to eat since the disruption of her daily schedule and it’s only at this very moment she realises the hunger pangs that have been masked by her prior focus on other matters. Wednesday performs her home routine - Shoes in rack, jacket on hook, keys in bowl - before quickly shuffling through the short entrance hall into the kitchen. She is very aware of the dangers of leaving a stove burning, but finds herself a private smile at the idea of the outcomes either being Accidental Arson or Tasty Soup. She’d willingly accept either.

  She promptly serves herself a bowl and eats it whilst standing in the middle of her kitchen. She scans around the room as she eats, making notes on things out of place, or needing to be cleaned. She prides herself on the uniformity of her living space, but long stretches of writing means she sometimes gets a little lax. Her tea caddy, for example, is out of place by a few inches and rotated roughly 45 degrees more than it should be, and her espresso cups are stacked out of order, amongst other things. Perhaps small details to some, but Wednesday cannot stand to see her space disorganised. 

  Unfortunately, her mental chore list is interrupted by a small disruption coming from outside her door. Though she cannot be certain, Wednesday swears she hears self-affirming whispering before it suddenly stops again, and with a gentle whoosh, a post-it note slides under the door and comes to rest by the shoe rack. 

  Wednesday scowls at it. 

  She abandons her soup bowl on the counter, and approaches the note. Oh how she has dreamed of receiving a mysterious message shoved under her door by a stranger… However, upon picking it up, she is disappointed to learn it is not a death threat, but a phone number. 

  Enid’s phone number. 

  And an accompanying message, sprawled in Enid’s cutesy handwriting: 

  ‘ Hey Wends, here’s my number! Text me xx’

  Oh. 

[plethora-of-imagines]

Autumn in a Day

AN: I missed it still being @how-masterful‘s birthday by about 25 minutes but the power of time zones makes it still her birthday my time!! Enjoy all of the soft that I tried to write for you!!! (The ending is somewhat abrupt/ less edited but it should still be decent)

Word Count: 3330

Description: You experience as many of your favorite autumn actives in a day as possible with the Master. 

Tag List: @c-s-stars @queerconfusionthings @how-masterful @truthbehindthemysteries

You laughed as you ran through the fallen leaves away from the Master. The smell of autumn fresh in the air. You joyously kicked up leaves left and right with each step as you ran away from him. His shout of protest in the background as you enjoyed yourself. You were tempted to fall into the thick pile of multicolored leaves. It was something you hadn't done since you were a child, but you were sure it would be just as enjoyable as it had all those years ago.

You squealed as two strong arms unexpectedly wrapped around you, lifting you up off the ground and twirling you around. The Master had caught up to you sooner than you had expected, and he claimed he didn't ever run!  He had to have run to catch up to you. Your giggles mixed with the Master's as you spun, round and round. When your feet were finally on the ground again you could feel him subtly nuzzling into you. He wasn't subtle enough to avoid your detection, but you would be merciful and not bring it up. This time.

"Caught you," he whispered seductively into your ear.

You let your eyes close as you leaned into the Master's chest. You felt so loved, it was nice. You took a deep breath in, enjoying the crisp air. You were going to savor every moment of the day that you could.

"Now, I believe we have a few more apples to pick before we go searching for the perfect pumpkins you wanted."

You smiled, he was correct. You did want to pick out some more apples, even if running off might have given a different impression.

The Master surprised you again by kneeling down. He was getting his pants dirty on the- well, dirty ground. He buried himself in between your thighs. His head in quite the compromising position.

"Master! I'm not about to get frisky in a field!" 

Just as you had finished reprimanding him he stood up with you now resting on his shoulders. Oh, it wasn't meant the way you had interpreted.

"Get your pretty little human mind out of the bedroom, love. I'm only trying to make gathering those few more apples easier."

You absentmindedly played with his hair as he approached the nearest tree that still had some apples left. The one problem with waiting so long to go apple picking was that there were few apples to be easily found. Still the Master and you had managed to find a decent amount. A small nip to your thigh made you squeak and pay attention.

"Much as I love the attention,  your hands do have some actual work to preoccupy themselves with now."

You had no comeback prepared to retaliate with so you started to pick the ripest apples you could find without responding. Twist and pull, twist and pull. One hand held up the end of your shirt to use as a makeshift basket while the other picked the apples from the tree. As you worked on picking apples the Master's hands held you steady by your calves and he drew small circles against the fabric of your pants. Once the few apples in an area had been picked the Master dutifully brought you to more.

"I think we have enough now..." You focused on trying to keep all of the apples contained in your shirt, to keep them from falling. All of your efforts would go to waste if they fell from this height. "We can head back to our basket now. I know I made you abandon it to chase me."

The Master didn't respond with words, letting the comfortable silence you had settled into while working continue. The only sounds were the crunching of leaves underneath his feet and the rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze. It was peaceful. If you didn't have the apples to worry about you would have started to play with the Master's hair again. Unfortunately, your hands were already preoccupied. You instead took the chance to enjoy the sea of colors. Warm reds, oranges, and yellows mixed in with patches of still bright green leaves. A rectangle of orange standing out from the more spread out rows of trees. The pumpkin patch of the apple orchard, still a ways in the distance. Your next destination.

With great care the Master lowered himself down so that you could stand once more on your own two feet. The moment you were steady he grabbed the bag of apples off of the ground, lifting it up so that you could more easily place the apples gently inside. You lowered your shirt back down once it no longer needed to work as a sling to hold apples in safely.

The Master offered his arm to you and you eagerly nuzzled in close to him. Head resting on his upper arm as you walked towards the pumpkin patch. You almost couldn't contain your excitement to be experiencing all of these autumn activities with the Master. You hadn't expected him to agree to some many human traditions. A few maybe, but all of them? He seemed to surprise you in new ways every day.

"We can pick out our pumpkins and then we can bake when we get back to the TARDIS. While the cookies are baking we can carve the pumpkins, warm-," the Master interrupted your excited recitation of your plans for the day.

"Warm up some cider and then enjoy snuggling in some blankets while watching Addams Family. I'm well aware of your plans, love," the Master finished your ramblings as you made your way down the hill together. "It's absolutely precious how excited you are for them."

You would have pouted if you thought he actually meant to demean you for your child-like excitement. Instead you let the comfortable silence return without complaint. You knew that he meant his comment fondly.

There was a small shop near the pumpkin patch meant for visitors to explore and find more to buy. You paid it no mind for now rushing forward into the patch to start your search. You started examining the pumpkin in front of you intently. That one was too small while the others around it were too big. You frowned. It was going to take more time to find acceptable pumpkins than you thought, and you were aiming for perfection, not acceptable. The Master wouldn’t be much help either. The master may know all sorts of things about the universe but you knew Halloween. You would be the one ensuring the two of you had the perfect pumpkins to carve.

"I'll be back in a second. Something's caught my eye over there."

You looked to the Master wondering what could have possibly stolen his attention, "please don't manage to get us in trouble before I'm ready to leave Master."

It was too late for your warning, he had already started to wander away. Fine. If he wanted to look at something else he could. Meanwhile you would find the perfect pumpkin. The search wouldn’t be easy but you would persevere. You laughed to yourself over your mental dramatics. It took ages to find the first pumpkin that you approved of. It was just the right size with one slightly flat side, perfect to carve into. You picked it up so that you wouldn’t lose track of it and carried it like you would a small child.

The second pumpkin took less time to find, you were less picky with the Master’s pumpkin. He wouldn’t care as much what it looked like. Still you found a nice second pumpkin, not as perfect as yours but still decent. You were still holding your chosen pumpkin in your arms while hovering near your second choice when you sensed the Master's return.

"I believe I have found the perfect crown for my queen of the pumpkin patch," a soft felt like fabric covered your eyes as the Master forced the hat onto your head.

Your pumpkin was pulled from your arms so that you could push the hat out of your eyes. Feeling along the length of the hat you could tell it was a witch's hat, it was all long and pointy at the end. He was right, as always, it was the perfect crown for a Halloween queen. The Master was showing off his strength as he held your pumpkin against his side with just one arm.

"Rude," you teased.

As soon as you could see again he booped your nose. You just rolled your eyes.  You handed over the apples hanging off your arm in their clear bag to the Master's free hand. Bending down to lift up the second pumpkin. Pumpkin securely in your arms your eyes met the Master's.

"Are we planning to pay for any of this?"

"I'm not," with a laugh the Master started to run towards the TARDIS. 

You gave an outraged shout of, "Master!", as you ran after him. You couldn't believe he took off without warning you.

You ran with all of your might towards the closest apple tree, the TARDIS' current camouflage. If you dropped the pumpkin you would not forgive the Master for making you rush after him. Even if it was his revenge for you making him chase you earlier.

You rushed into the TARDIS only seconds behind the Master, adrenaline rushing through your veins. Laughing with him in exhilaration. As your laughter died down you both stood staring into each other's eyes. Neither wanting to break the moment. 

Finally in a quiet voice the Master broke the silence, "little thieves need to pay their getaway drivers."

You brought your lips to his in a passionate kiss. Pulling away with a stereotypical kiss noise -mwah- just for your own amusement.

"Is that sufficient payment, Master?"

He smiled lovingly at you.

"Yes, it is love."

The TARDIS lit up with energy as she dematerialized. There was no need to steer her yourselves, she already knew where she was going. Into the comfort of the vortex where no one could bother the two of you. 

You waltzed away from the Master. Making your way to the kitchen to deposit your stolen goods. He, of course, followed your lead. The TARDIS liked you, so you were sure to know the correct way.

The TARDIS being fond of you extended beyond just being able to find the kitchen with ease. The kitchen itself was made to be perfect for you. Anything you could ever dream of having in a kitchen, the TARDIS provided. As someone who loved to bake it was a wonderland straight out of your dreams.

You deposited the Master’s pumpkin onto the table, trusting that he would place the other pumpkins and the apples down to start helping you grab ingredients for the cinnamon chocolate chip cookies you wanted to bake. The two of you fell into a rhythm, practically dancing around each other as you prepared the batter. The Master had memorized the recipe of your favorite cookies long ago, so it was easy for the two of you to quickly get the first batch into the oven. 

You smiled over at the Master when you saw that he had already started to get sprinkles and marshmallows ready for the chocolate apples you were going to make next. You took to melting the chocolate on the stove top, not bothering with the microwave. Mostly due to the Master having the chocolate in a metal bowl already. He loved to tease you anytime you used a microwave for being impatient. You refused to give him the perfect opportunity to tease you more today. Bringing the melted chocolate over to the table for ease of chocolate apple assembly you joined the Master in preparing the apples. He was enjoying stabbing the apples with sticks with a wicked smile on his face.

Once the apples were all prepared to be dipped the Master chose to wrap himself around you instead of working by your side. Trapping you in between his arms as he worked in tandem with you. Both of you playfully fighting to dip your apples into the chocolate. The timer going off for the first batch of cookies handed you your win as the Master regretfully freed you to take the cookies out of the oven. Without him to distract you, you made progress on actually making the chocolate apples. You had almost finished by the time the Master had put the next batch of cookies into the oven. He had spent a long time being a bit of a perfectionist and trying to make all of the cookies even. You already knew that it was a hopeless effort but you couldn’t help but be fond of his efforts.

The Master dipped his finger into the cooling chocolate and held it up near your mouth. You teasingly tasted it off of his finger, gently sucking on his finger while you did so.

“You are going to be the death of me,” he groaned out.

“Well if you are going to provide such tempting opportunities to tease you how can I resist?”

“I’m going to start warming up the blankets for the blanket nest you are going to want while we watch the movie later, little mischievous witch.”

 He gave a light swat to your ass as he left the room. The warmth of his body hovering near yours disappearing and leaving you a tiny bit cold. You had been able to feel his hardening cock against your body before he left, so you knew that the blankets were an excuse to have a moment to himself. He needed to take a moment to calm down after you teased him. It was sweet that he was making sure that he didn’t bend you over the table before you had finished all of your planned autumn activities. He knew that if you had sex now you wouldn’t be able to keep your hands off of each other long enough to get back to your plans today. You had begged him for the perfect autumn day and he was determined to deliver.

“Hurry back so that we can carve the pumpkins!” You yelled after him even if there was a chance he wouldn’t hear you.

You may really want to do all of these autumn activities but they wouldn’t be as much fun without the Master with you. The smell of cinnamon in the kitchen grew stronger as you prepared the pumpkins while waiting for the Master to return. You already missed him. You were incredibly emotionally attached to him if you already missed him this much after just a few minutes of his absence. You couldn’t find it in yourself to care too much about being considered needy. The Master was just as needy as you were. The two of you were the perfect match for the other.

You finished preparing the pumpkins sooner than you expected to. Without the Master to distract you, you could finish your task quicker; however, it wasn’t as much fun without him by your side. Now you were just waiting for him to return, and missing his presence.

“How is my mischievous little witch doing?” The Master teased the moment he returned.

Rushing over to your side and grabbing your arm to press passionate kisses from the tip of your fingers up your arm in a playful mimicry of Gomez and Morticia. You knew that he paid more attention to the movies than he let on! Tilting your head away from the Master’s lips you attempted to avoid his affection. You smiled as he growled at your actions. He was so easy to tease today...

He forced your head to face his as he brought your lips crashing together. You melted into his passion, letting him hold you up. Foreheads pressed together as you both enjoyed the feeling of each other’s breath against the other’s lips. The timer for the second batch of cookies pulled you apart again.

The Master’s hand darted out to stop you from leaving his side, “let them burn,” he begged.

“It’s tempting but no, not this time Master. Besides, the TARDIS would hate us for catching her on fire when it could have been avoided. I would like to stay on her good side. Last time I annoyed her she made me wonder for 10 minutes before I could find the rooms I was trying to find for weeks.”

He groaned as he let you go, “unfortunately that’s the smart choice. The TARDIS can be vindictive when annoyed.”

“You can start carving your pumpkin if you want Master. I’ve already prepared them.”

“Which one is mine? I do not want to deal with you if I pick the wrong one when you have a knife in your hands.”

“The one on the left is yours, and I wouldn’t actually stab you! I would just threaten to stab you,” you joked.

You transferred the batch of cookies onto the cooling rack. The Master had managed to use the rest of the cookie dough so you turned off the oven and put the bowls into the sink. You would worry about cleaning them later, much later. 

The Master had already made decent progress on carving his pumpkin. The start of a detailed human skull taking form. Picking up the second knife you started to work on your pumpkin, you chose to carve bats and ghosts into yours. They were some of your favorite spooky symbols after all. You stayed focused on your pumpkin, making sure that you didn’t make any mistakes. You didn’t want to be reckless and ruin your hard work.

You were only halfway done when the Master stabbed his finished pumpkin with his knife with a showy, “ta daa, a spooky Halloween victim!”

The skull the Master had carved was highly detailed, and had a knife now sticking out of it. You hadn’t had any ideas as to what the Master would carve into a pumpkin but looking at the finished product it was exactly what you would expect the Master to do. You couldn’t help but admire the details for a few minutes.

“It looks so detailed! I’m almost done. Can you heat up the cider while I finish up Master?”

“Of course, love. I’ll also go start setting up the blanket nest too.”

You hummed in response as you finished carving another bat. It needed one more ghost and then it would be perfect. You absentmindedly noticed the Master press a kiss to your temple as he carried two mugs out of the kitchen. Once you finally finished your pumpkin you placed your knife into the sink with the dirty bowls. Unlike the Master you were not going to stab your pumpkin, while it worked for his design it would ruin yours. Even if it would be kind of fun to do.

The TARDIS led you directly to the media room where the Master already had a dozen warm blankets set up in a blanket nest. You rushed to settle yourself into the nest. It was so warm and cozy! The Master pressed play on the Addams Family before joining you in the nest. Yanking you into his lap.

“Get comfy, love, because I’m not letting you leave my lap at any point during the movie.”

You grabbed the blankets to readjust the nest now that you were settled in the Master’s lap. Cuddling with the Master in a warm blanket nest was the perfect end for your autumn day. You took the offered mug of warm cider from the Master’s hands, taking a sip of the just the right temperature liquid.

“How long has it been since we’ve cuddled, love?”

You smiled lovingly up at him with the reference, “oh Master... hours!”

You would treasure this perfect autumn day with the Master by your side to enjoy it with you.

[mutatedangels-a]

It was strange to talk to someone, another parent, who was human about what it meant to be in charge of another person. So many parents these days were set in one way and anything that deviated from that norm was wrong. And they weren't afraid to tell others what they thought, either.

He'd certainly been called out once or twice for letting Yumi go to school in mismatched clothing. But what was so wrong about letting a little girl pick her clothes every once in a while? Zeke thought it was a nice way to show her autonomy. Other parents were concerned she didn't have clean clothes at home. What meddlers!

"Yeah, we'll get them a couple of sweets," he agreed with Aly's idea, glancing at the library as well. All he could see past the heavy rain was the big lights on in the kids' area. Every person was a smudge behind the window. "I'm not getting any phone calls, so I'm sure they're having a great time."

He turned back to face Aly and took a sip of his coffee. "A mortician?" he echoed, brows lifted. That was definitely much more interesting than being a child psychologist. He made a note to correct her. "Don't get me wrong, but you don't look like what I imagine a mortician to look like. But then again, I think that says a lot more about me and how much I rely on stereotypes." He wore a wince. The image he had in his mind on a mortician was someone who looked like a member of the Addams Family. The blonde in front of him was very much the antithesis of that, though Zeke supposed he was only basing his opinion off of appearances.

A chuckle left him after hearing he'd inadvertently helped her. "Well, good. I'm not the best at giving advice. And by the way..." He leaned in, not wanting to embarrass her. "I'm not actually a child psychologist or anything. It's just what I studied. I actually... work online." Nice way of saying he was a streamer. When would he stop being shy about that?

After taking another bite of his muffin, he asked, "So, you adopted Maddox? Can I ask how that whole process has been? How long ago did you find him?" // @theholysoldier

Aly took a bite of the muffin as she listened to Zeke talk, he knew about what parenthood was all about and at the same time he seemed to have the same doubts she did and that somehow made her feel a little closer to him. "Makes sense..." Aly savored the coffee and felt her body slowly regaining strength, sometimes she really underestimated the need to have a good breakfast before starting her day.

"I see it this way, you are both on this journey together, your child learns from you, and you from them, you grow together, it's like you are born again, we really don't have to be perfect in everything we do as parents..." Aly paused and settled back in her chair as she pondered her words for a second "Hell, we're going to fail many times in our teaching, but no one is born with the experience of parenting beforehand... and from what I see you're doing magnificently well with Yumi." Aly assured as she took another bite "These are really good, we should get some for the kids , I'm sure they're going to be hungry by the time they finish their day... I wonder how they're doing now?" Aly looked out the window in the direction of the library, as if she could see them from there.

"Back on topic, I'm sure it was easier when your wife was present. I can only imagine, I never had a partner after Maddox's adoption..." she had a sad smile on her face, her eyes, fixed on the cup of coffee she was drinking, not that sometimes she didn't wish she had a shoulder to lean on, or someone to hug after a stressful day as a mother, but it wasn't a possibility for her. "Child psychology? That's impressive." the blonde raised her eyebrows in surprise "I imagine you see kids all the time, it must be stressful, right? Well I'm a mortician... it's kind of the opposite of what you do, you deal with human beings when they start life, I, well I guess I say goodbye to them..."

Aly liked that metaphor, they were both on different sides of the spectrum of life "I guess the advice I wanted you gave me without realizing it, never give up, no matter if we take shortcuts or not..." She smirked at Zeke, her eyes locked with his "And that I will try to remember, on the hard days." @mutatedangels

[mrs-hollandstan]

Inheritance || Rich Kid! Tom Holland

Warnings: brief sexual content (fingering, handjob, oral- male and female recieving-), one very brief joke of prostitution, language, suggestive comments throughout, jetlag, emotional messsssss at the end, nudity mentioned, alcohol mention

Word Count: 7,205

Author's Note: I did NOT expect 7,000 words but here part two is to Filthy Rich which is still super popular on my page and my most popular fic I've written. I hope this second part gets just as much requisition and lemme know what ya think!

My Masterlist || Read Filthy Rich (part one) || Add yourself to one of my taglists

You'd met Tom's father a number of times. Sometimes when Tom was chasing you through one of their many mansions, you'd nearly run into him, stopping with a gasp before Tom came to a skidding halt behind you, bumping you the smallest bit towards a man in a crisp, Canali, Prince of Wales Siena suit, wearing a smirk before his son introduces him to the new blood standing before him like a deer caught in headlights. There were other times Tom had brought you to a family dinner where you ate a number of foods you could never buy in your lifetime, served by women in their thirties and forties that, despite the sweatshop Cinderella vibe, still probably made WAY more than you, even on a good day at the country club. Each time you'd come into contact with Tom's family, he loved hearing you talk about how... Addam's family they all were as he finished up his nightly routine. Cold, but welcoming stares. Seemingly forced smiles. Computer generated questions. But then again, who could blame them? Each time they met you, the way you dressed, the perfumes and jewelry you wore SCREAMED broke college student. All while each of them, even the youngest, at fourteen, was practically a hedge fund manager and had their own continent.

But Tom's father seemed most invested in your experiences in the short twenty two years you'd been alive. It was in part, as Tom had explained, that his father had also been born into wealth, Dom's own father a very rich man selling aged alcohol to other wealthy men. Tom claimed that his father was interested in what it was like to not be spoiled, as he put it. He wondered what it'd be like to come from a time where you didn't have money, which he believed, in the most respectful way, to be your life. And of course he was right. You knew what it was like to not have the money to pay the electric bill. You knew what it was like to have to sit in the dark and eat cup noodle in the cold. But Tom would never let that happen again.

Dom insisted on Tom giving you all the privileges he and his son were raised on while you were involved with the family so you could see for yourself what it was like. He loved watching you waltz into his front door with a fresh manicure and possible new hair color along with any dress, perfume, or jewelry Tom might have spoiled you with. He knew that in the beginning of your relationship, you didn't enjoy anything being bought for you. But the longer it went on, the more Tom bought and the less you wasted your breath scolding him.

And as far as Dom could tell, when the three of you walked onto a plane the afternoon you left for Seychelles, Tom was still showering you in expensive gifts. You'd wondered as you wandered amongst the tourists and locals coming in and leaving the crowded airport why you weren't being boarded, just the three of you on one of Dom's private jets. Not that you minded, but the looks you got made you feel vulnerable. The looks of the people that passed made your heart pound in your ears. Like you were part of a circus. Like you were a leper.

"Tommy?" His hand meets your back over the black sleeveless midi sweetheart neckline party dress that clings to your hips and has Tom hanging behind you to stare at your ass just like he likes, completely unaware to everyone's stares or distasteful looks, or the unwavering, nagging feeling you have,

"Yeah babe?" You swallow, glancing over at him,

"W-why didn't we take a private jet? These people... they see us together and they surely think-"

"You're a prostitute? Yeah... I get those vibes too." He shrugs playfully, chuckling when you reach back to swat his chest. Rubbing his thumb along the hollow of your back, he sighs,

"Dad assumed that with all the riches we've invested on you, you might want to take a commercial plane. So its a... a sort of pity thing if you will. He doesn't mind it really. It's like a people watching experience for him." Glancing over his shoulder, you follow his eyes to Dom's face, neck bent to look down at his phone,

"Emails, ya know?" You nod, glancing around at the other people,

"If I'd known I'd get these looks... I would've allowed you to drag me kicking and screaming onto a private jet." He chuckled,

"Now you know what it feels like. That first time you met me and that first time you screamed at me that I was a stupid ass little rich kid... this is what it feels like." Slipping his hand down to just before the shelf of your bottom, he clears his throat, looking around you as if someone would be listening,

"Side note... I love when you kick and scream." You click your tongue,

"Quit it. We're in a public place." He huffs,

"When has that ever stopped us? We're willing and able to join the mile high club once we're on board." You glance over your shoulder at his father again who, taking a break from his phone, gives an unknowing, innocent smile. You return it before finding Tom's dark chocolate colored eyes, your cheeks burning like smoldering embers,

"Don't do this to me now." He chuckles,

"When you look this amazing darling...  I can't keep my thoughts off of you. If you were in my shoes, the throbbing in my jeans right now would be disgustingly uncomfortable given you don't know how to harness it." You giggle before his shoulder nudges yours and you focus on getting to the correct gate to board your flight.

Once you board and are waltzing through the first class seats, Tom can't keep his eyes off your bottom. The way it looks as you twist and turn to find the right seat number is driving him wild and the way images of you on your back with the splashes of his cum on your thighs and stomach you allowed him to take a few days ago, the same night as the country club experience has his heart skipping a beat. He's pulled from his thoughts when you turn,

"Here we are. How do we uhh... how do we wanna sit." Tom opens his mouth to speak,

"You two can take the window seats, seeing the sight for the umpteenth time might make me sick." Dom replies through a chuckle. Tom's mouth closes when your eyes flick to his and then down to his lips. He swallows and nods,

"Yeah... what he said." Giving a curt nod, you opt for the window seat, watching Tom stow your bags away with guilt ridden eyes. He smiles as he sits in the window seat opposite you, Dom slumping into the seat a few inches from your own, as far from a window as he can be. When he pulls his phone from his pocket again, Tom licks his lips,

"I feel so far from you." You smile when he hides his hand besides him and moves it to the side, gesturing for you to spread your legs to give him SOMETHING. You give a sly smirk before uncrossing your legs and spreading them just the smallest bit until you know your underwear are showing. He quietly squeaks, his eyes cutting to his father when he spots the black silk stuck to your skin,

"I know, but even if you were sitting in your dad's spot, it wouldn't help. We'd still be apart." Tom nodded, glancing up again when his father raised his head for a brief moment at the mention of his title, eyes unmoving from small screen in his hand. He gives a smile before his head returns to it's original place. Tom swallows, closing his eyes when you cross your legs as more people board the plane. He shakes his head of naughty thoughts, staring out the window until the pilot announces takeoff. Your eyes wander his body, lingering too long on the bulge in his jeans that only you know is there. And its inflicted by you. Nearly twenty minutes in, Tom glances up when you stand,

"Show me the bathroom babe? You can get a drink." When you wink, he nods and takes your welcoming, outstretched hand. Turning to Dom, he smiles and Tom swears he knows the real reason you're asking him off,

"I'll bring you a beer." He mumbles, allowing himself to be drug off to the much larger bathroom than towards the back of the plane. He dips inside with you, his arms encircling your waist and his hands placed over your bottom as you hold his face and kiss him softly. He hums into you,

"Fuck... God you're perfect. I'll never, not love you in this dress baby." You clutch his shirt when he leans in to kiss and nip at your neck,

"No hickies just yet... not yet love." You murmur, feeling him attempt to bruise the underside of your jaw. You whimper and moan, his lips making your nipples harden beneath the polyester of your dress. He draws the thin strap of your dress from your shoulder,

"I didn't... I didn't bring a condom. My wallet's in my backpack." You shake your head,

"Let's just... I'll give you a handjob. You can finger me." He practically whines,

"But baby..."

"Fine, I'll blow you." Shrugging your dress off, Tom hums at the look of your bare breasts, reaching for them, his fingers following as you crouch to free him from his pants. When his cock springs free and you lick your lips, he hums, leaning down to press his lips to your own almost too gently,

"I don't think... I've ever loved someone like I love you." Gasping, you take hold of his length,

"Is THE Tom Holland... self-centered rich kid telling me he loves me more than himself?" He bites his lip, watching you stroke him,

"Ha ha, very funny." Licking at his tip, he licks his lips,

"Fine... you wanna be like that... no blow. Handjob is fine. I'll finger you. Make you scream my name so you know how much I love you." When you stand, stumbling in your heels, he kicks your legs apart gently. Sliding his hand between your thighs, he strokes your folds over the luxurious panties, watching you take your bottom lip between your teeth. Your eyes dart up when he leans in for another kiss. Swatting his hand away, you push your g-string down, letting it fall around your feet,

"We can't be here long. We gotta hurry." Wrapping your hand back around him, you stroke him a few rough times, moans slipping from his thin lips. He reaches out again, hand resuming its place between your thighs where two of his fingers slip into your soaked center, his thumb pressing and rubbing at your clit. The two of you moan together, eyes locking every so often. The more focused, the harder and faster you tug him, the more he speeds up. He can feel his orgasm building as you can yours. He presses down on your clit when you whimper, leaning in to press your lips to his clothed shoulder,

"Cum for me my pretty girl." He coaxes, fingers curling to stroke your g-spot. Your knees nearly give out, Tom rubbing your clit a little rougher. He glances down at you hand, bound tight around him,

"Baby... fuck that feels good." Laying your head against his shoulder, his fingers speed up just the little bit that you need, thumb stroking your clit as your body convulses. Your brain goes fuzzy, hand faltering as your orgasm tries to consume you. Tom crouches, cheeks squishing between your thighs as he sucks at your clit. Your head falls back, fingers threading through his unruly hair,

"Oh fuck... oh God Tom, that feels so good." You squeal, gripping the counter in one hand, your foot pressing into his thigh. He hums when you cover your mouth, moaning loudly into your palm as you cum. His eyes are locked on your face, loving the way your eyes are gently closed in pure bliss. He stands, licking his lips of your slick,

"So... fucking... gorgeous." You hum, glancing down at his throbbing cock. Reaching forward again, you give rough, quick strokes, watching his jaw clench. Pushing forward, he presses you to the counter, his cock trapped between you as you try to get him to his high. When he tips his head back again, you lean in, nipping at his neck,

"Baby..." He pants. You suck at his neck,

"Same goes for you..." he mutters, "you're not gonna let me leave marks on you, you're not allowed to leave marks on me." Taking hold of your hair, he gives a gentle tug, drawing you back to face him,

"Gonna cum for me handsome?" He nods, licking his lips again. Watching you crouch before him again, he grunts when you take him into your mouth. He gathers your hair, guiding you along until you're gagging,

"That's it baby... gonna let me cum in that pretty little mouth?" You make a noise, letting him know you'll allow him to. He cocks his head, reaching up to raise his t-shirt over his stomach before you feel his cum coat your tongue,

"Fuckkkkk that's good." He quietly speaks through a shaky voice. Swallowing all he offers, you draw back, pulling his boxers back up to cover him. Pulling his jeans up next, you zip and button them, picking your dress up from the floor. He smiles, leaning down to pick your underwear up,

"That was good. That was uh... you're amazing." Smiling back you slide the straps of your dress up over your shoulders,

"Yeah? Satisfied?" He nods,

"More or less." You click your tongue, snatching the thong back from him,

"You loved it. Don't think I've ever gotten you to cum that fast." He leans in, pressing a kiss to your rosey cheek as you slip back into the material,

"You're amazing darling. Absolutely amazing." Reaching up to stroke his own cheek, you smile warmly,

"Thank you baby. Can't be amazing without you by my side." He smiles back, leaving down to kiss the tip of your nose,

"Let's get back out there... get some drinks." You nod and follow him, the bartender eyeing the both of you as you order two beers and a margarita, eyes cutting to you as he verifies both of your ID's. Tom grumbles, scowling as you walk back,

"What are you suddenly pissy about?" You quiz, cherry at the drink in your hand. He shakes his head,

"He was eye fucking you. You're wearin all this stuff I've bought you, I'm standing right beside you and he wants to do is put you behind the bar on your knees for him."

"Tom-"

"No, I know, keep my voice down. Heaven forbid someone hear me talk about how good your mouth is." He gives a playful smile, handing a beer to his father as you approach your seats again. He helps you sit, sitting across from you with a sigh and sipping from his beer. He eyes you, his heart fluttering at the intrigued look in your eye as you watch the ocean crash beneath the plane.

You really were a sight whether you wore these types of outfits he spoiled you with or just in sweatpants and your university sweatshirt. You were stunning and you were his. No matter what. He loved that fact and you reminded him of it every time you were laying in his bed or on the rare occasion he was in yours. You'd play with each other's hair and you'd reassure him you were thankful for him and in love with him over and over again. And he did the same to you. He wanted you to know how much he appreciated you giving him the chance he knew he didn't deserve. He'd toyed with so many girls around him that he was practically waving a red flag above his head. You'd been cautious in the beginning, but now here you were, his and he wasn't willing to give that up in any way, shape, or form. Not for the rest of his life if things went his way.

                                                          ---

The eighteen hour flight from New York to Seychelles killed all three of you, you more than the men you accompanied. You were practically dragging your feet to baggage claim, and Tom was holding you up as you leaned against him, waiting for all three of your bags to make their way round.

"Almost done love. Then I'll get you up to the room and you can sleep it off." He cooed, kissing your forehead. You hummed, letting him hold you stable. He kissed your forehead, rubbing your back when your bag made its appearance, leading you out to a courtesy car and helping you into the backseat behind his father. When he climbs in beside you, he kisses the top of your head again as you lean in, head against his arm,

"I want to take you to dinner later. There's a really nice place I think you'll love." You nod sleepily, sighing in his expensive soap and cologne smell. He runs his fingers through your hair, glancing up when you pull to the curb of your hotel. He leads you through the lobby and up to the elevator after his father fetches the keys with a tug on your hand. Once in the room, he points you to the bedroom, letting you go and lay down while Dom runs Tom through the plans for the next few days in the doorway. When Tom returns, he sits beside you on the bed, running his hands across your bare shoulders. He sighs through his nose before leaning in to kiss your temple,

"Get some sleep love. I'll take you out when you wake up." When he goes to stand, you whine and reach back, taking hold of his forearm. He leans in,

"S'matter angel?" You open your eyes just slightly, staring up at him,

"I want out of this dress." His lips pull up in a smile, a chuckle ringing through the room,

"Aren't you too tired for it?" You groan,

"Not sex. I want your shirt." He hums, sliding the zipper of your dress down to expose your bare back. He helps you wrestle from it, licking his lips when he catches a glimpse of your breasts. He pulls his up over shoulders buttoning it swiftly and drawing the comforter back for you to lay under. He kisses your forehead, watching your lashes flutter,

"Goodnight love."

"Goodnight Tommy." You mumble, already half asleep.

When you wake again, it's the middle of the next day. You open your eyes and you swear you've died and gone to heaven. The view from the window wall before you is breathtaking. Few buildings are spread across the area, much shorter than the hotel you're staying in, before a beautiful, sandy beach with the most gorgeous blue water crashing against it is in sight. Standing on somewhat wobbly legs, you walk towards the window, staring out at the beautiful city below you. Your mind is blown and you wonder how you got so lucky to be able to see one of the most beautiful places ever, in person. The sky is clear and the water is just as clear and blue and the people that you can see down on the street, that look like ants, you know are beautiful. Your eyes water and your heartbeat is erratic as you stare down at the ocean, wondering how you were so blessed with the opportunities thrown your way. The door gently creaks open behind you before Tom makes a noise in his throat, opening it fully and stepping inside. He closes it behind him, walking towards you,

"Good... you're up." You make no moves, no noises, you don't say anything to him and the motion has Tom frowning. He stands right behind you, hand placed at your lower back. He moves his head to see your face,

"You okay?" You nod, blinking at the feel of him there. Peeling your eyes from the sight, you look to him,

"Tom its beautiful." He hums in his throat, glancing out at the scene before you,

"It really is huh? I think... I think you're more stunning than anything though. Even in my clothes with your hair a mess." Looking at him, he runs his thumb under your eye,

"My pretty girl." Leaning in, his lips cover yours in a heart stopping kiss and you've never been more happy than in this moment. The way Tom takes your breath away, the way he simultaneously stops and starts your heart, the way he makes your skin burn and tingle is intoxicating. When you reach up and hold his face, he swoops down, holding your thighs tight in his hands and lifting you off your feet. You bind your arms around his neck, his shirt bunched taunt around your hips. Carrying you through the door of the bedroom and out into the middle of the large sitting room, he sets you on your feet before rummaging through the both of your bags and finding the smaller navy blue one,

"Confiscated this because... with my luck, you'd get dressed yourself and I wouldn't get to watch." Clicking your tongue, you sit on his knee, watching him unzip your suitcase. He sorts through the number of dresses you've chosen to bring for the countless expensive dates Tom has planned. After all, your anniversary is coming up and you're on vacation. Why not use that time to celebrate when Tom is free of his father's business. Opting for an Alice and Olivia blue and white tiered high low dress, he draws it from the leather suitcase,

"The... restaurant I've chosen is quite formal and this is perfect. With those strappy heels you love." Smiling, you run your fingers through his unruly hair, leaning in to kiss his cheek, his eyes fluttering shut at the feeling. He sighs, glancing over, eyes lingering on where your breasts are hidden beneath the crisp button up you're wearing. He reaches up, swiftly undoing a button with one hand. Cocking his head when he can see your skin, he swallows,

"I wonder how I got so lucky with you. Everyday that I wake up beside you, or I come to your work to see you or take you out shopping I wonder how I can buy the whole world, yet I can't buy the love you give." His dark colored eyes find yours and he looks almost sad. Like he's losing you when you're right there. You lean in, kissing him,

"And I wonder what cruel god saddled me with you." His lips turn up, eyes fluttering again as you stroke his beautiful, soft curls from his face,

"Y'know... I can always tell when you use that gold flake conditioner stuff. You're always fluffy." He chuckles in his nose,

"Amber gel too. Run your fingers through and it keeps the shine all day." Threading your fingers through for just a moment, you draw back, standing from his lap and starting to unbutton the shirt. Tom licks his lips, leaning back against the velvet of the couch,

"I like where this is goin." Pulling the last button free of its hole, you smile, hair falling to shadow your face as you pull the two sides apart. Tom's eyes wander your body, ghosting past your underwear, before you drop the cotton on the floor. Climbing into his lap, his hand rests on your hip, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows,

"You are... so beautiful." Threading your fingers in his hair again, you give a gentle tug to guide his lips to yours. He kisses you soundly, hands sliding up your skin to press to your breasts. He hums, holding the skin in his hands as your lips dance together. Soon he's drawing back, hands still over your chest,

"I hate to cut this short but... our reservation is at five. You gotta get ready." You nod and kiss him one last time before standing and picking the dress up. Slipping it on, you reach under to draw your underwear down,

"No panties... or a new pair?" Tom licks his lips, slouching on the couch below him and watching the silk leave your skin,

"I uhh... I prefer the none... option but yeah, sure, whatever." He shrugs, watching you search through your bags to find where your underwear are stashed. And when you do, you slip into a black thong flashing Tom for just a moment. He licks his lips as you grab your makeup bag and glance over your shoulder,

"Just a little touch up." He nods and sighs, looking around himself,

"I'll be here." When you disappear into the bedroom, Tom swallows before finding the slacks and button up he planned for tonight, smoothing the dress pants down. By the time he's checking himself in the mirror and taking a deep breath, you're stepping back into the overly large living room, finding your heels and earrings. You slide into the heels before walking towards him, pushing your earrings through your earlobes,

"Now how is that fair? You confiscate my things to see me naked, but you get redressed while I'm gone." Tom chuckles, turning to you and smiling wider as you grab the collar of his deep v button up. Smoothing it down, you sigh and wrap your arms around his waist,

"Trust me, you'll see my dick later. Like I said... we can't get distracted. Our reservation's at five." Leaning in, he drags your hands in his own behind his back, lips falling over yours in a soft, mesmerizing kiss. When you pull back, you hum,

"You look amazing my love." He hums in return, pecking your lips once more  before you tug your hands free, heels clicking as you strut away from him, Tom entranced in the way your hips involuntarily sway. You sigh, picking your phone up from the marble side table Tom plugged your phone in at. Glancing back at him, he fishes a suit jacket from the mess of suitcases on the floor, shrugging it on and walking towards you. When he's standing before you, he tucks his hands in his pockets and sighs,

"Ready?" You nod and tuck your phone in his pocket. He smiles, glancing down at your hand which he takes, giving it a squeeze. The smile you flash him is brighter than the sun, and he craves it for the rest of his life. You drag him behind you, turning to him in the elevator,

"I'm glad I came here with you. You're the most important person in my life and as... unnecessary as all of this," you gesture around to the gold plated elevator you ride in, "is, I'm just glad to be here. You feel like home." He clicks his tongue and pulls you in, an arm wrapped around your shoulders. You bind both arms around his torso, closing your eyes when he kisses your forehead. He let's his lips linger, smelling the strawberry shampoo he insisted on buying despite it being somewhat cheap, the few days leading up to you leaving for your trip. He swallows,

"You're home to me. I'm so in love with you and I just... I want you to be happy always."

"Wherever you are, I'm happiest." You quickly impose, looking up into those soft chocolate colored eyes. He smiles before his lips seal over yours, fingers gently stroking your cheek. He pulls back, the air having been sucked out of your lungs when the elevator dings and the doors glissade open. Tom takes your hand again, leading you out into the lobby you vaguely remember being sleepily drug through hours before. This time, you look around, finding all kinds of intricate portraits and paintings lining the large, open room.

"Oh Tom, this is amazing. It is so beautiful in here." He smiles, looking over your turned up face, eyes glistening in the chandelier light glowing  above you. He chuckles in his throat,

"You think everything is so beautiful but you fail to realize that you're the most beautiful piece of artwork the world has to offer." Glancing up at him, his hand slips from yours and instead rounds your shoulder, arm draped around your neck. You smile, letting it turn into a giggle,

"Thomas Stanley Holland, king of the cheesiest pick up lines. And you know what... it's not even like the expensive cheese from like, France or Italy, its like sliced Kraft cheese from America." The cute little giggle he retains slips from his perfect, thin lips,

"Oh really?" You nod,

"The cheesiest." His smile widens, eyes cutting down to your lips for just a moment before he fishes the rental car keys from his pocket. Flashing you the key fob, your eyes make out the Chiron signature before he flips it in his palm to show you the Bugatti emblem you know so well per the long garage back home filled with cars that collect dust rather than being driven. When he'd explained to you the price of each car, you swore you swallowed your tongue, wondering how long it would've taken you to conjure up the 3.2 million he'd managed for just one supercar without even putting a dent in his inheritance from his father.

"Just got the new La Voiture Noire Bugatti but... I didn't get it in time from the Geneva Motor Show." He shrugs as if he dirtied something rather than bought a brand new car that were all sold before they were even pieced together in the factory. Tugging the handle on the sleek, black sportscar in front of you, you duck into the leather smelling vehicle, looking around yourself. The red and black interior is beautiful and rough, a brash contrast to your delicate blue and white dress you wear. But when Tom climbs in beside you, his slack nearly blend with the seat below him. He sighs, shifting to make himself comfortable before he clicks a button on the side of the fob, the branch of a key springing free. He sticks it in a slot in the dash before reaching to the steering wheel to press the button labeled 'engine'. He hums when the car purrs to life, reaching down to the shift paddle and putting it into drive. Running your hands across the leather center console, your hand lands in Tom's lap, him looking down at if after pulling from the curb,

"What do you think you would do for work if you had to?" He glances at you for just a moment before his eyes are back on the road as he drives through the road splitting the skyscrapers. He shrugs,

"Probably act. I dunno. I haven't thought about it much." Reaching down, he takes your hand in his, kissing the back of it, eyes averted to the road.  You smile, watching him silently as he maneuvers the streets, pulling up in front of a restaurant on the beach before too long. After clambering from the car, he rushed around to your side, opening the door and holding his hand out. He helps you from the car, closing the door behind you and lacing your fingers,

"I figured we could walk on the beach after. The sun will be setting." You nod silently before he leads you inside. The staff is friendly and Tom sits across from you in the booth, your feet wrapping around his calves which he reacts to with a warm, happy smile. Once you've both looked over the menus and ordered, the conversation turns back to cheesy where Tom gushes about how perfect you are and how much he loves you. He takes both of your hands and rubs his thumbs over your knuckles, eyes averted to the table, only glancing up into yours every so often until your food arrives. After that, until you've finished and the waiter is inquiring about dessert, the communication between the both of you is minimal, nearly nonexistence. When the coconut and banana tart arrives, you and Tom share it, Tom telling you of when he first came to Seychelles at six and had the same dessert with his family. The smile on his face shows you it's a genuine memory full of love. Despite his parents handing him and his brothers everything, there is a lot of love that courses through the family and he loves not only his parents, but his brothers more than anything.

By the time dessert is over and Tom is paying for the meal, hiding the total beneath his palm and giggling along with you as you fight to see it, the restaurant is picking up and outside, the sky has turned from a bright blue to calm, pastel hues of purple, pink and orange as the sun sets beyond the horizon. Tom leads you out into the warm night, turning to you as you stand beside his rental car,

"Figured we'd just ditch our shoes. Rather than sinking into the sand and getting it everywhere." You nod, slipping your heels off as he undoes his own, sliding them and his socks off and setting them on the passenger side floorboard, he watches you do the same as he shrugs out of his jacket. Standing again, he closes up the car and takes your hand, both of your bare feet padding along the asphalt as you walk towards the beach. Once the sand meets you feet, you sigh and Tom chuckles, pulling you out towards water. You stand at the edge, mud slipping between your toes as the water crashes in, bubbling over your feet. You squeal and Tom cackles,

"Its cold!" You squawk, squeezing his hand. Tom chuckles, staring at you as water washed over you and your face sparkles as the remaining sunlight strikes the crystalline water. He swallows,

"Let's walk a little further down. There's a place down the beach where you can see in the valley." You nod and follow, binding your arm around Tom's waist, his own arm around your shoulders. He sighs as you stroll along,

"Are you enjoying your visit so far?" You nod, laying your head against his shoulder,

"Its gorgeous here. I've seen the sights ya know? London is beautiful and New York I'll always love and... those trips to Australia and Fiji were fantastic. It's a dream to be here... with you." When you look up at him, you both stop walking, Tom looking in your eyes and then down at your lips before he leans in, softly kissing you. His hand slips down to your chin, holding you to him for just a moment longer. When you pull back, a puff of warm breath fans out across Tom's own lips and he sighs,

"You're so perfect."

"You've said that a lot today." He chuckles once more and shrugs,

"It can only get annoying and repetitive if it isn't true. Which it isn't." Cocking an eyebrow at you, you click your tongue,

"But it is. I've got my issues and that makes me imperfect."

"Wrong. It makes you unique, which is perfect." Rubbing the middle of your back, he walks you along, stopping just where the thin neck of hills around the small bay connects it to the ocean. He turns you, hands rested on your arms. He sighs, resting his chin on your shoulder,

"Here's your sight. You think all of those other views are so stunning but here's the one that I've grown up on. My family and I ate at that restaurant, walked down this same beach, sat in this same spot time and time again. Its remained one of my favorite places, and that's why I wanted you to come with me. I wanted you, the most important person in my life, in one of the most beautiful places I remember from my childhood." Looking over at him, he gives a soft smile. You smile back, leaning in to kiss his nose,

"You're adorable." His hands disappear from your arms, head gone from your shoulder momentarily. You stare out at the crashing waves, watching them change color in the sun,

"It is beautiful. Living in New York most my life, the water is always cold and because it's so cloudy you don't see these sort of colors on the water. But you're more beautiful. I-" Turning, you find that your normally perky, tall and lanky boyfriend has crumbled to one knee. A ring that sparkles in all the colors on the ocean's currents sits in his fingers, his eyes looking between your own that hold tears already. He swallows,

"I brought you here because... I wanted to have you in one of my favorite places. I wanted to propose to you in the same spot I sat in as a kid with my family. I want to know that the woman that keeps me most grounded, the woman that I want to spend the rest of my spoiled life with, agreed to marry me in the most nostalgic memory I have. Y/N Y/L/N... will you make me the happiest man alive, give me that last part of my world, and marry me?" The tears are free flowing down your cheeks, the makeup he's bought you over the months and years holds true to waterproof and doesn't smudge as the tears roll down your cheeks. Your lungs constrict and you fight for air as you nod,

"Yes. Yes I'll marry you Tom." He doesn't waste a moment, sliding the Tiffany Novo, Pavé diamond, platinum band engagement ring on your finger before swooping you up, lifting you off your feet in a hug that takes your breath away. Your fingers thread through his hair as you sob, his arms tight around you. He let's out a breath, truly relieved you said yes. He loves you more than anything and the idea of you not saying yes scared him. But here you are, about to celebrate your three year anniversary as an engaged couple, in one of the most beautiful cities ever.

Tom never told his dad of his plan, never indulged on the secret of the ring that was hidden amongst his luggage. He desperately wanted to be cheesy and flash it in the Tiffany blue box, but it was too bulky and you'd notice. But the occasion was perfect. You had no idea and Tom  was immensely proud of himself for not popping the question the number of times the urge came about. He was glad that it worked out perfectly and that he had you to stand by his side for the rest of his life now. As his wife. He leans in and kisses you cheek, setting you back on your feet. When he draws back, you lean further in to kiss him softly,

"Who knew?" You look around you, clearing the tears and Tom chuckles,

"Harrison. He isn't here. There aren't any pictures, no commemorative videos, it's just us. Just you and me to remember this moment. That's the way I wanted it." He reaches up to caress your cheek before you step forward to hug him properly,

"I love you so much Tom." He kisses the top of your head, wrapping his arms around you,

"I love you more angel. Forever now." Sighing. you listen to his erratic heartbeat, his fingers in your hair. A thought suddenly hits you and you stand straight with a gasp,

"Are you telling me I get to have my Pinterest dream wedding? Is that was this proposal means?" Tom's eyebrows furrow,

"I-I guess. I didn't know you had a wedding Pinterest board."

"What woman doesn't?" He smiles at the look on your face. When your eyes lock again, he sighs through his nose,

"You have no idea how relieved I am you said yes. Now I can sleep at night knowing that all that uncertainty, all the hate you have for me being spoiled isn't a worry. You're mine and nothing makes me happier." Tsking, you reach up and stroke his cheek,

"If there was any dislike of anything on my part, I wouldn't have stayed for almost four years. You're my life now and I can't imagine anything else. I want to sleep in the same bed as you and wear your shirts and walk around our house naked and make you breakfast and cuddle. I want to marry you, surrounded by our families and dance the fucking night away and have the most amazing honeymoon and someday, I wanna have your kids and have OUR family. There is no one... absolutely NO ONE I want to do this with more than you." Tears are running down both of your cheeks now, the sight of you in Tom's eyes clouded through the warm diamond like tears. You hold his cheeks, clearing his tears, his hands placed on your hips and his forehead rested against yours. He sniffles, opening his eyes again,

"I've known I wanted you since I picked you up for the day in the boutique. When you walked out of your front door and you looked so... normal. You felt like home. You were everything I craved. The normality, the pure, unpaid for love, the respect for just the small things in life. You're all I've ever needed and I just... I'm do glad that you're in my life. That you're mine." You stand in silence for a few moments longer, just holding each other. The only sound is the other person breathing, and the crash of the waves against the shore and the rocks not too far from you. Tom stands back, sniffling and pulling his phone from his pocket. You watch him, swallowing as he takes the hand that is weighed down with the fifty four thousand dollar engagement ring from Russia,

"What're you doing?" He sniffles once more,

"Calling my mum. She's been asking me when I'm going to do it and it's been eating at me because I haven't told her. Now I can." Holding the phone up to his ear after dialing his mother's number there's a pause as he holds your hand out, smoothing over the soft surface of the diamond decorating your hand,

"Hey mum." He speaks low, almost inaudible to you over the waves,

"Yeah, I have something to tell you." He sniffles and there's just one more pause before he spills everything,

"I proposed to Y/N... we're engaged." And your heart couldn't be happier watching his jaw tremble and more tears glisten in his eyes as he looks up, locking eyes with you for just a moment before he looks up at the sky. You'd officially gotten through to the spoiled rich kid's stone cold heart.

Permanent Taglist: @embrace-themagic @delicioustommy @spiderman-n @winters-beauty @smexylemony @lolabean1998 @musiclover1263

Tags of people I that showed the last part love & I feel would wanna read the second part: @thollandz @clairesrainbow @r0ger-tayl0r @marvelsperalta @empressdreams @cartiertom

[yankyo]

Promised Fic

That fic I still don't have a real name for where you peg Beej yay

Warnings : mention of pet play, denial, beej begging, soft domming fun with the bby

----

You loved Halloween movies, every year the tradition was to gather up bags upon bags of candy, make a happy little fort in your living room and just binge the classics until there was just nothing more to watch - and every year more and more spooky movies joined that list. This year, however, instead of adding another movie, you added a companion. Curled up in your lap, happily purring as you ran your fingers through his hair was your beloved demon: Beetlejuice. The past new nights, he had talked through the grisly slashers, giggled through the psychological horrors, and had gorged himself on all of your candy - not a surprise, Beetlejuice simply adored being a little shit and irritating you. What was surprising was the movies he shut up to watch: The Addams Family. Of course, you weren't complaining, they were great, feel good comedies, but not even a giggle was a little strange. You found yourself watching him more than the movie, watching the way he stared at Morticia everytime she was onscreen - honestly, you agreed. Morticia was a babe, and the actress did a phenomenal job, in fact she was part of your bi awakening as a kid - along with Debbie, of course. But every so often, Beej would glance over at you with this thoughtful expression that told you he was mulling something over - which could be anything ranging from, goth gf, or tiddy noice or isn't it interesting how the Addams are treated like they're dumb but they really know that people are trying to take advantage of them and are more amused than anything by the attempt. Beetlejuice was an enigma that way. 

But as long as he wasn't saying anything, you weren't pressing, he would speak up in due time. So you simply focused on stroking his hair, there was one spot if you scratched just right, he would go completely limp and purr all the louder - he refused to admit that he purred, something about 'I'm a demon, not a house cat, babes!' but he also wasn't about to admit how he nuzzled into your lap and sent you that expectant look whenever you didn't immediately begin petting him either. As much as anyone could see just how needy your little bug was, his pride was verbal but he still flopped in your lap without even the moments hesitation for more cuddles. Looking down at the happy demon, you couldn't help but lean in and kiss his cheek if just to see his cheeks flush green with happiness. Too cute. 

"That's the look of a woman who's gonna be breaking out the strap later." He spoke up, lifting his head slightly to send you a grin as he pointed to the screen. With a soft smile of your own, you tilted your head in mock confusion. 

"There's a specific look?" You asked, only for him to practically shoot up with an overenthusiastic 

"Yes!!" He fumbled for the remote to pause the movie at just the right moment. "See? The little smirk, the way she looks at him as if to say 'imma fuck your brains out', the way he looks back at her like a dude who just had his brains liquidated out of his skull. That's a dude getting his bussy fucked up." You snorted at the explanation, but he was still going. "You give me the same look before you dom." The blush was back and stronger than ever, the slight pink in his hair telling you just how excited he was really getting. 

"So, basically, she reminds you of me?" Flattering, really, and the way Beetlejuice peeked over at you with that look of neediness had you shuffling forwards to take his cheeks in hand. "Is that why you've been quiet all movie? How long have you been thinking about that?" He squirmed in place, refusing to meet your eyes for the moment. 

"Since when she was clipping roses." You laughed, 

"So since the beginning? Oh, Bj, you know... you shouldn't be torturing yourself like this." You pressed him down into the couch with a hand as you straddled him, "that's my job." Your voice had dropped into a husky purr, a poor imitation of Morticia, but Beetlejuice whimpered all the same. 

When Beetlejuice subbed, he was either extremely bratty, or, like today, he was like limp and willing under your touch - eager to please. Either was cute, but his obedience was absolutely endearing. Especially when he was trying to hold back from bucking up into you as you slowly ground your hips into his. Cupping his cheeks, you kissed him until you both were breathless before you pulled back just enough to whisper a single word, 'bedroom'. Before you could even blink, the room snapped away and the two of you fell onto your bed - and your comfortable sweatpants and tank top had been swapped out for a form fitting black bodysuit, the pattern not unlike a spider's web. "Bug? What's this?" You sat back with your hands on your hips - the words almost scolding if not for the amused twist to your lips. 

"It looks good on ya, doesn't it?" Not completely obedient then. You sat back on the bed, giving him a look that made him fidget in place before you stood to make your way to the toy box at the far end of the room. "B-babes?" The nervousness in his tone making you automatically give him a reassuring look - bad dom bitch persona aside, you didn't want to make him too anxious. At least, not in a bad way. Once he had relaxed again, his tense expression smoothing out, you snapped your fingers and pointed to the floor. 

"Where do bad boys belong?" You asked, your voice stern, he almost fell flat on his face in his eagerness to kneel next to your bed - if you gave permission you knew he would already be at your leg - but you didn't want your puppy just yet. "Now stay." He went ramrod straight and still - if not for the fact that his tongue had lolled out of his mouth as you bent over to rummage through the toy box. You were fairly certain there was new things added, but that wasn't all that strange, you didn't know where he was getting them, but Beetlejuice was constantly bringing home various sex toys that either interested him or just made him giggle. He had used to just show up with them and toss them your way, but after accidentally beaning Delia in the head with a dildo that looked like it belonged to freaking Sauron, you had told him he was to keep such things in the bedroom - and then made him fuck himself on said dildo until he came all over himself. Good times. Of course, Beej loved the bigger toys, the ones that were textured and thick and filling, and being quite the size queen yourself you were more willing to oblige. And watching him come undone on such a dildo was always so entertaining, but not the way his eyes just lit up whenever he saw you pull out the harness was just so much more fun. 

"Which one do you think I should use?" You asked, pulling out two different straps - one was small, thin, pink in color and the other was green with black stripes, long, thick and was textured. You didn't really need to ask, you knew which he would pick and weren't all that shocked when he shyly spoke up, 

"The green one." 

"What's the magic word, baby?" 

"Please?" Oh that word was just so pretty on his lips, but you remained silent. It took but a few seconds for Beetlejuice to realize his mistake and hastily correct himself, "please, miss." Better. 

"I don't know," you sighed, giving a slight shake of your head, "you've been pretty bad lately, talking during my movies, eating all my snacks and not even cleaning up after yourself. Do you really deserve this?" You asked just to hear that whiny little sound he made whenever you denied him what he wanted. 

"I'll be good, miss! I swear! I'll clean up and everything." He was crawling forwards tentatively until he was at your feet. "Please, I want..." he looked wrecked without you even having to lift a finger, his cheeks flushed, his pants strained, his breath coming out sharp and fast. When you reached down to pet his hair he let out a shaky moan and pressed into the contact. 

"I think you can ask better than that, Bug, what do you want?" He hesitated and your gentle touch turned hard, your soft fingers digging into his hair to yank his head back and force him to look up at you. "Come on, baby, tell me what you want." Despite the rough touch, your voice was soft, barely more than a whisper, yet he hung ok each word. 

"I want you to fuck me, Miss." He practically moaned the words, you had no doubt he would cum untouched if you were to pull his hair any harder. "Wreck me, use me, I'm yours." You leaned in and kissed him softly. 

"Then why are you still dressed, baby?" The urgency in which Beetlejuice ripped off his clothing was amusing, to say the least. He was more than capable of just snapping his fingers and rid himself of his clothing, but he was so focused on you that the idea probably didn't even cross his mind. Within moments, his already tattered clothing lay in shreds and your eager demon sat squirming before you. "Good boy," you praised, kneeling to give him the attention he deserved, as well as to show him the cock ring you had pulled from the chest. The sight made him shudder and gulp, but he leaned back and set his hands at his sides all the same. He always came far too quickly when you fucked him, so the cock ring was something of a necessity if you really wanted to have some fun with him. And there was no better sight than when he had been denied one too many times and was begging you in tears to please please just let him cum. 

He let out a shaky sigh as you stroked his cock, once, twice, one more time just to see the precum beading at the head. His eyes trained on you as you slowly slid the ring over his cock to press it firmly down to its base - he hissed at the pressure, his thighs already shaking. One more reach into the chest and you pulled out a long silk rope, soft gray in color. Automatically, he held his wrists up for you to tie, letting out an excited exhale as you pulled the rope tight against his skin and used it to lead him back towards the bed. As your thighs hit mattress, you took a seat, your demon crawling between your legs to lay his head reverently on your thigh. For a moment, you regarded him quietly, as if trying to figure out just exactly what you wanted to do with him before you raised your leg and placed it on his shoulder. You knew he didn't have to be close to you to smell your arousal, but he took in a deep breath all the same, his pupils narrowing into slits at the smell of you. It didn't take long for him to start to squirm, drool already dripping from his chin as he tried just so hard to hold himself back. Control had always been something of a problem for him, but he had come quite a long way from where he was. Now, even as he twitched and gave you those longing puppy dog eyes, he waited until you gave a slight nod of your head to lunge forwards and nuzzle against your clothed core. His teeth grazed your inner thigh gently, soft nips quickly followed by his tongue  as he tried nosing aside the fabric blocking him from you. After a moment, you took pity on him and peeled away the tight fabric yourself and no sooner was your pussy revealed to him did he rush forwards to taste you. 

Beetlejuice always said that eating you out was his favorite pastime, and really, actions spoke louder than words with just how much enthusiasm he put into the task. At first, the wet sounds of him slurping up every single trace of your arousal his tongue could reach had been embarrassing - but after so many months of dating and the many, many, times he had his head between your legs, the embarrassment was long gone and your immediate reaction was to lace a hand in his hair and rock up into his eager mouth. His tongue slithered it's way inside of you, full and quickly swelling up as his teeth ever so gently scraped your clit, your thighs trembling as his tongue wriggled against your g-spot insistently. Sometimes, Beetlejuice was something of a tease, pushing you closer and closer before pulling away mere milliseconds before you could actually cum. This, unfortunately, was one of those times as the smug little bastard yanked back to grin at you, his face all slick with your arousal. Unamused, you scowled back at him, making trembling limbs pick yourself back up to stalk over to the forgotten harness. 

"Up on the bed." Of course he followed that order without playing around, crawling up onto his hands and knees, raising his cute little butt up in the air for you. You took your sweet time in stepping into the harness and attaching the strap, pausing for a moment to pick up a bottle of lubes before you meandered your way back over to the bed and your waiting boyfriend. You ran a hand up his back, pressing forwards to maneuver him into just the right position for you before you noticed something. "Babycakes, when did you put this in?" You pressed on the plug currently stretching your boyfriend out and he mumbled into the pillow. You didn't even have to look up at him to know that he was blushing - or to know that it had probably been there since the moment he started thinking of you taking charge for the night. Impatient as he was, he never did want to waste much time in prepping when you could be plowing him instead. Which was ironic seeing as he would, could, and has spent hours eating you out and fingering you. But, of course, after being denied yourself, you weren't about to just give him what he wanted! Oh no! There was a lesson to be learned here! 

His whine echoed through the room as you slowly tugged on the plug before pressing back into him, his cock bouncing as you fucked him with the plug. 

"Babe, please!" He cried out, even as he automatically pressed back as you nudged the plug forwards. Of course, you knew it just wasn't enough. 

"I have to make sure you're ready, sweetie! I don't want to risk hurting you, right?" Pain really never was a worry with Beetlejuice, sure, certain things could hurt him, but he always healed far too quickly for it to even matter. But proper etiquette called for prep and who were you to ignore etiquette. In, out, in, out, in, in, swift pull out, Beetlejuice's whimpers and pleas fell on deaf ears you played with him, the sounds growing sharper as you reached underneath him to slowly stroke his cock. It didn't take long for him to be absolutely shaking, his cries getting desperate as you just barely missed his prostate with each push inwards. "Oh baby, what's wrong?" You asked, your voice soft and sweet. "Is it not enough? I mean, you chose it! Surely you must like this plug, right?" 

"No! Want you! Please!" He was almost sobbing now as he pushed back in vain. You took pity on him this time and actually pulled the plug out of him this time to set aside. 

"Its ok baby, I've got you." You crooned as you rubbed his tense back. "I won't tease you anymore." With one hand you grabbed onto his hip while with the other you grabbed the base of the strap-on and once you had applied an adequate amount of lube, you began pressing into him. His babbled words of thanks were sharp and high pitched, your hand on his hip possibly the only thing stopping him from just shoving back to sheathe the whole thing. Soon enough, your hips lay flush to his, your body curved over his so you could take the end of the rope to tie his hand to the headboard. "How we feeling babe? Green?" You asked, leaning down to press a tender kiss to his back. 

"Beyond green, fluorescent green, neon, fuck me already, -" before he could say more, you pulled out slowly before swiftly slamming back into him, making him choke on whatever words he still had left. After that, there was simply no mercy given, you kept a hand on his hip while reaching up to lace a hand in his hair to yank his head back so you could sink your teeth into his neck. There were days you felt bad for your neighbors, after all, Beej and you weren't the quietest of lovers and they surely heard everything - this was not one of those days. No, you were way too invested in the indulgent, appreciative moans you were pulling from your boyfriend as you fucked him. 

"Look at you, drooling already." You purred, pressing your fingers into his open mouth, "so wrecked already and I've barely even started." You breezed your wet fingers down his chest til you just barely brushed the tips of your fingers along the length of his cock. The headboard creaked as Beetlejuice pulled on the ropes, already begging for you to touch him more, please, please, please, touch him! And really, how could you deny him? Wrapping your hand around his dick, you jacked him off in time with your slamming hips and his cries only grew louder. 

"I wanna cum! Please, fuck, let me cum!" You toyed with the cock ring, twisting it this way and that before you let out a soft tsk and kissed his cheek. 

"Not yet baby, patience." Not like this, at least! You pulled back, ignoring his sharp whines as you pulled out to guide him onto his back for you. "Relax, baby," with him laying down, his cheeks flushed, his eyes wet with unshed tears, his hands bound above his head - you just needed to take a picture! So, you hopped up off of the bed to swipe up your phone and took a few quick shots of your boyfriend. There was just one thing missing in this shot... and the whimpers your boyfriend was letting out while sending you abandoned puppy eyes did tug at the heartstrings. Alright, you had teased him long enough - not really, but you couldn't help but be weak to him. 

As you settled on the bed, he pulled you in closer with his legs, and you just had to lean in and kiss your squirmy demon before you took your strap in hand once more to guide it back into him. This time, you didn't tease, you didn't hold back, with sharp strokes as deep into him as you could manage, you pulled the cock ring off of him and began stroking his cock. The cry he let out echoed throughout the apartment, his back arching up so high you would've wondered if he was going to pull something if he weren't already - you know, dead. As worked up as he had been all night, the stimulation proved too much for him to last and soon enough he was moaning garbled praise and pleas once more. "Its ok, Bug, you can cum." 

"Thank you! Fuck! Thankyouthankyouthankyou!" His moans grew higher and higher until he cut off with a choked gasp and came. Hard. The slightly fluorescent cum reached up to his chin and yet cum still dribbled past your fingers and onto his stomach as you worked him through the orgasm, praising him all the while. Now, you took another picture of him, cum splattered on his chest, his eyes dazed, his expression damn near ascended. Perfect. While he was still coming down, you untied his hands and stroked his hair, 

"How we feeling, Bug?" 

"Like you fucked the life back into me." You both giggled softly as he reached up to kiss you. "Give me five minutes and I'll return the favor..." he grinned, his thumb stroking softly across your cheek. "Cara mia." You snorted softly, but placed your hand on top of his and sent him a warm smile in return. 

"Don't be gentle, mon cher." 

[homenum-revelio-hq]

Welcome (again) to the Order of the Phoenix, Seb!

You have been accepted for the role of MADALÉINA WARREN with the faceclaim of Sirena Warren! We really enjoyed how Maddy, while being a fighter against injustice, is also still a young adult. We truly can’t wait to see how she blossoms into herself and finds out who she really is as a person. We also love that she’ll be joining the ranks as a Muggleborn witch, as this is a group fighting for people of her blood status and doesn’t actually have many of them within their organization. So excited to have her on the dash! 

Please take a look at the new member checklist and send in your account within 24 hours! Thank you for joining the fight against Voldemort!

OUT OF CHARACTER:

NAME & PRONOUNS: Seb he/him

AGE: 21+ (not getting younger, lads!)

TIMEZONE: GMT+1

ACTIVITY LEVEL: I’m here! Usually I’d do at least a round of replies every morning (either 1 reply per character or a full round of 1 character) but at times I’m a bit anxious about spamming people with too many of my replies at once, so I hold off. And now that I’m on a holiday until October 15th, I’ll definitely be able to keep that regularity going so what am I to do? Find another roleplay? Never!

ANYTHING ELSE: Triggers, still: under-water sequences

CHARACTER DETAILS:

NAME: Madaléina “Maddy” Warren

AGE: 18

GENDER, PRONOUNS, and SEXUALITY:

Cis female. She/Her. Hetero.

To turn things around a bit, I like to think that Maddy is quite endeared by the idea of being bisexual, of just loving everyone and anyone regardless of their gender, and she definitely clings to the girl-crushes she had, but really, she’s just straight. She hasn’t had any serious relationships yet but I think the day she meets the right guy, she’ll realise that those feelings are very different from infatuation. For a while it’ll make her seek the same emotional depth with a woman for a while, but eventually she’ll realise that she’s fully straight. This being said, she was raised Irish-Catholic and this whole ‘I’m open-minded and bisexual!’ might ironically stem from that; a way to distance herself from the conservative world around her. So it’s less observation-based and more a head thing, where she’d just rather want to be on the side of the ostracised than the ostracis..ers. 

BLOOD STATUS: Muggleborn.

HOUSE ALUMNI: Hufflepuff.

ANY CHANGES: No, please stay the way you are!

CHARACTER BACKGROUND:

PERSONALITY:

Maddy’s heart is big, open, and full of love. That is the first thing you must know.

She sees the good in people before anything else, and when there is no good, she dreams of planting it into their hearts, seed by seed, smile by smile. She’s the epitome of ‘kill them with kindness, giving everyone second, third and fourth chances, and truly believing that everyone can change for the better, that no one deserves death, that everyone deserves a friendly hand, helping them. The second thing you must know, is that she’s a clever little fox, and when she asks: What Would Jesus Do?, she doesn’t mean the glorified white Jesus people misuse for the prejudiced bullcrap, but the actual Jewish Jesus who yelled at the rich and kissed prostitutes regardless of their reputation. She’s got an innate sense of justice, and it can turn her into an American Honey Badger if ever she encounters someone being treated unfairly. The third thing you must know, is that she’s still very much searching for herself. She knows who she wants to be, she knows she wants to spread love and eradicate injustice in the world, but in between those goals, she’s an 18-year-old mess who’s not really good at what she’s doing. One minute she’s talking about the importance of unity amongst the Order, the next minute she’s talking about how cool it would be if they all wore the yellow-black X-Men uniform. One minute she’s angry about big corporations exploiting the poor, the next minute she’s babbling about how much she loves coca cola. One minute she’s talking feminism and how every woman should be allowed to do what she wants, the next minute she scoffs at a roommate wearing too short of a mini-skirt. She’s young, Christ-damnit – oh yes, she also truly struggles with cursing in a non blasphemous way – but she’s trying.

BRIEF OVERVIEW OF FAMILY:

Derry, 1972. The infamous key-event of The Troubles of Northern Ireland called Bloody Sunday, which caused the IRA to grow and radicalise further, makes the mother of 9 children a widow. The youngest of those 9 children has just been born in the hospital and Maddy is watching over the other younger siblings with only mild interest – after all, the Addams Family is on TV! – and she knows not to expect her mother to come home before tomorrow night. What she doesn’t know, however, is that while her mother returns, her father never does.

From that day on, the Warrens’ life is no longer the same. Were they a wild, jumbled bunch of messy but cheerful people, they are now scraping at the stone of their personal rock bottom hell. Maddy’s older siblings are off to find work, so is their mother, and Maddy is left to slowly become a second mum to her younger siblings.

Before that, she was one of many, forgotten and forced to scream and scratch for attention – now there’s not even that much left. Who she is doesn’t matter, what she wants doesn’t matter. All that matters is that the family survives, and a fun and quirky personality brings laughter but not bread to the table, so what’s it really worth?

The TV is sold, so are all of Maddy’s comic books and the cool earrings she got for Christmas. When it’s time to even sell her father’s clothes, she steals the jeans jacket he was shot in, never bothering to repair the hole on its back. A reminder, perhaps, of the injustice in the world. Of how dangerous it is, to let people know who you really are. No one notices. No one ever notices what she’s doing. Much like the big jeans jacket eats her entire frame, her father’s death overshadows everything she once was. By the age of 10, she’s lost her identity and personality, becomes ‘one of the many Warren children’, and people in the streets address her by her father’s name, not her own. And then she turns 11. It’s Dumbledore himself who appears in her living room, explaining Maddy everything, and her mother cries the whole time through. Why? That’s something Maddy learns only a few years later. And quite frankly, in that moment? She doesn’t want to know. Here is a real whole Wizard who looks like Gandalf the Wise and says she’s a Witch and says she’s special and says she has a life away from all of this. And then he says: “It’s okay to be scared,” and Maddy hears herself admit that, yes, she is a little scared. After all, she wasn’t raised to be special.

Suddenly she’s an individual, her own person, and the possibilities are endless. Who does she want to be? What’s the plan? Where will this adventure lead her to, and why is no one there to guide her? She’s lost. Alone and lost. Her dream has become a nightmare. Her first year, she is focusing on being a good Witch at Hogwarts, carrying the burden of her destiny as good as she can while keeping her head low and fearing the sound of her own name. It’s only been a bit less than a year since her father died, but a year in the life of an 11-year-old is a lot, and it scarred Maddy. Hogwarts isn’t a big school, people quickly know her, that Irish Mudblood, as they call her, and even though she hears the snarl in their voice she’s too afraid to correct them. “What is it, muddy Mudblood? Don’t know how to use your wand to defend yourself?” Then the Summer holidays come. She’s can’t wait to be back home, one of many, ‘one of the Robert Warren kids’, back in anonymity. But it’s too late. Things have changed. She’s the special one now here, too. In Derry, people know her as the girl who got a scholarship in a private school in Scotland; everyone is proud of her. Her older siblings are glad they don’t have to feed yet another hungry mouth all the time, to see at least someone get out of here unharmed. And her younger siblings have, for the first time in years, hope in their own future again. Hope that they, too, might become special at the age of 11. None of them are.

Maddy remains the only Witch of her family.

For a while, as the years pass, she tries to fit in even better. Look less catholic, speak less witchy, smell less like a Mudblood. She’s long stopped screaming and scratching for attention but now she’s actively trying to never stand out. And why would she want to? The English don’t care about the beauty of the green. The Muggles don’t understand the full scope of the marvel that the Wizarding World holds in store. And the Purebloods can’t even grasp the greatness of using a damn – sorry! – telephone. People live and exist in in- and out-groups, and the walls are high, causing cold wars in the world and amongst possible friends. She’s special, yes, but in a way no one truly understands, and she realises that there is loneliness in being different. And that’s when Maddy, fourteen years old, walks into the second-floor bathroom at Hogwarts and into a long-deceased family member: Myrtle Warren. Her father’s sister and her mother’s childhood best friend. Killed by bloodpurist ideologies. Safe, nowhere, not even in the hopeful life she’d been promised here. And Maddy understands. People die because they’re different. It’s not just lonely. It’s dangerous. But ducking one’s head and letting the un-different people rule will never undo the danger. Only being visibly different, outspoken, unashamed of one’s specialness can tear down the walls and help people familiarize themselves with the cultures on the other side. She’s special, goddamnit – sorry! – and she’d rather die teaching people how beautiful that is rather than pretending she’s not! With determination, she puts her wooden cross back around her neck. Stuffs her Wolverine T-shirt into her jeans, tosses her dad’s jeans jacket over her shoulders. Then she marches up to the Slytherin table and smashes her fist into Avery’s face. “See, the thing is, we Mudbloods don’t need a wand to defend ourselves.” So, while the war in Northern Ireland gets worse and worse, Maddy makes a name for herself at Hogwarts by selling Muggle-trinkets (sending the money home), playing on the Quidditch team, excelling in various classes and just being a good sport altogether. People listen to her ideas and even laugh at her jokes, and she makes sure to learn about everyone else’s specialness as well. After all, if everyone realised they’re worth of attention and love, maybe they’d grant the same blessing to others as well, and no one would have to fear being different anymore. 

Nowadays, cheer has returned to her family. With four children out of the house and two already capable to work, the Warrens are much more relaxed, enjoying watching everyone’s path unfold, while still waiting curiously to see if the youngest, Robert Jr., will receive a letter for his 11th birthday or not. Some resent never having received their letters, others are just happy for Maddy, and others prefer not to think about it at all. What matters is that they’re now all individuals thinking for themselves, allowing each other, at times together, to be happy. And all would be good… Only that Maddy’s no longer part of it now, is she?

OCCUPATION:

Entrepreneur (Business for Muggle-trinkets sold in the magical world).

What started as an act of desperation (bringing ballpens to Hogwarts) suddenly turned into its whole own thing, where first Muggleborns begged for more objects from home and then the other kids got interested in it, too. Seeing how Hogwarts’ magic didn’t let electronics function properly, those objects were usually of mechanical banality or just plain cultural stuff like magazines, blotting paper, alarm clocks, a special type of cereals, etc.

Maddy was more than ready to stop her business after graduating, but the fact that her clients graduated along with her and now still preferred her shop than hunting through Muggle cities for the things they never really had to buy for themselves in seven long years just had her continue the thing. And now, since she has to make money somehow, she’s looking into buying an empty shop at Diagon Alley.

ROLE WITHIN THE ORDER/THOUGHTS ABOUT THE ORDER:

Maddy was attracted to the Order by Maurice’s radio show and his subcultural references calling out for more Muggleborns to join the war. In all honesty, up until that point, she wasn’t really aware that a war was going on..? She understood that she was being discriminated against, and that Muggleborns were fleeing the country, but, Jesus – sorry! – she’d grown up in Derry, a bit of oppression is neither a proof of war nor a reason to run away, is it? But when she learnt that there was a vigilante group trying to fix the racist bullcrap that was going on, she found herself quite interested. “I don’t really know what I bring to the table, though,” she told Maurice after meeting him before anyone else, and he replied: “You bring perspective, and that’s exactly what we need.”

She doesn’t really support the more radical notions of some Order members, and would rather see them figure out a peaceful way to end the war (the idea of seeing someone be shot in the back like they did it to her father is haunting her at all times, unfortunately) but she knows that not doing anything won’t fix things either. And at least these people understand the beauty of diversity. In fact, she’s more than proud of the Purebloods who have joined the cause, and takes it as proof that everyone can change if given the chance.

She’s still very new in the Order (therefore still full of hope) and is mostly trying to find her footing. But I think it won’t take long until she will come forth with her first pro-active, constructive suggestions: it’ll be less about killing Voldemort and more about educating those who could become potential followers. Teaching them of the Muggle World, of how fun the culture can be, how there’s not such thing as blood dilution, etc, perhaps going all the way to even dismantle the Statue of Secrecy.

SURVIVAL:

She lives in a flat with some Muggleborn and Halfblood friends in Muggle London. Gerry and Charlie started a university degree and Kathy is currently doing an internship at the Ministry of Magic. None of them really know what’s going on, what they’re doing, and how to subscribe to a newspaper, so while they do face daily discrimination in the Wizarding World (very much a reason why Gerry and Charlie went back to the Muggle World for the time being), they haven’t really paid attention to fixing it yet. And while Maddy knows it’ll be a bit difficult to keep the Order thing a secret from them, she also knows that they wouldn’t really care. In a way, that’s what’s also keeping them safe: they’re just a bunch of kids, so no one would ever suspect Maddy to be a danger to society. Right?

RELATIONSHIPS:

As you just saw above, there will definitely be a strain put on Maddy’s relationship with her friends. She knows that she’ll eventually have to leave them, if the secret becomes too much of a burden or Death Eaters could put them at danger just for being close to her, or tell them the truth and let them decide whether they want to join the Order as well or not. In a way, she already knows they won’t. After all, they chose to go back to the Muggle World for a reason. The same goes for her family – who, admittedly, are less close to her these days, but who are still very much family, and she’d never forgive herself if something happened to them. Other than that, I think joining the Order will open a lot of new relationships, seeing how Maddy will be surrounded by people who are equally as invested in wanting to make the world a better place.

The Bang Gang (Chaos Trio): Maddy went to school with them and has a complicated relationship with them. By the type of personality, she’s similar to Dorcas, her roommate, and you’d think that’s a great basis for a friendship. But that’s definitely not what happened. From the day Dorcas revealed herself to be more on the ‘I’ma fight everyone!’ type, Maddy decided to go against that and be of the ‘I’ma befriend everyone!’ type. The Bang Gang seems loud and obnoxious and not at all on the peace-path to fix discrimination with love. No wonder the Order is so radical! Sure, deep down, Maddy admires them at least a little, for being so cool and brave, but on the outside she’s mostly annoyed. After all, if Maddy had wanted to join a terrorist group, she could’ve picked the IRA.

Caradoc: Big Grumpy Man, Maddy is not a fan. While he’s surprisingly civil to her, compared to many other Order members, she doesn’t agree with his radical notions. Sure, Purebloods are the ones who started it all, but Christ – sorry! – give them a chance to change! It’s not by antagonising them that you will end up making friends. From the outside, their relationship must look like a tiny dog yapping at a benevolent old man who just smiles back with patience.

Dedalus: Funky Funny Man has a shop on Diagon Alley, and while Maddy absolutely despises Wizarding Candy, she wonders if the flamboyant (and very handsome) Wizard might want to give her a corner of his shop for her to set up her own. Just until she has enough money scraped together to buy her own shop. And if the poor Muggleborns entering this world had to suffer through ear-wax jelly beans, then it’s about time that Purebloods experience the greatness that is Muggle candy.

Maurice: Feisty Pretty Man is the one who attracted Maddy to the Order. His voice drew her in, his face made her stay. Who can blame her? When she asked him what the Order could possibly want from her, he said: “Perspective”, and it was what Maddy needed to realise that her whole thing about changing the world one kind deed at a time might’ve just found a home to grow in. Whether Maurice knows it or not, he’s become her mentor, and Maddy couldn’t look at him with any more heart-eyes if she were a cartoon.

OOC EXPLORATION:

SHIPS/ANTI-SHIPS:

I direly need Maddy to have a crush on every boy she encounters, be they gay or racist. I don’t care how far it gets (I don’t think she really wants anything serious anyway, even if she whines about being single all the time) or how many rejections she’ll receive, I just need her to constantly be distracted by the urge to snog, thank you.

WHAT PRIVILEGES AND BIASES DOES YOUR CHARACTER HAVE?

I think by nature of who they are, how they grew up, Muggleborns are less prejudiced towards people and creatures from the Wizarding World. Because on the one hand, everything is weird and different to them, on the other, it’s just fairy tales! Werewolves are cool as hell – sorry! – why would you be mean to them?! Why not befriend them and learn everything about them! And while obviously Maddy finds herself kind of tense around Purebloods, it’s not at all an innate thing like her hate towards the English. And then there’s the whole thing where she believes in the good in everyone that just makes her actively fight any prejudices she might have. So while I’m sure she’s free of bias, I think of all my characters, she’s the most open-minded one.

WHAT ARE YOU MOST LOOKING FORWARD TO? Listen.

PLOT DROP IDEAS:

For Maddy:      - have her fight for a spot on Diagon Alley while bloodpurists try to keep her from it.      - have her kill the Basilisk at Hogwarts (it’s personal, okay)      - have her get some snogs      - make up with Dorcas and Benjy? For the RP:      - telephone station at House of Bones for Maurice to actually receive responses from the Muggleborns he calls out to (Pride style)      - Generally a branch of the DTF actively recruiting Muggleborns (and it causing discussions in the Order)      - maybe a law passing at the Ministry related to her shop in Diagon Alley, taking away the right for Muggleborns to have their own shops, and the Order managing to prevent the law from passing (but before they manage, perhaps there’s a surge of refugees the DTF has to take care of?)

ANYTHING ELSE?

Maddy is Low-Level. I’d say she joined fairly recently, seeing how Maurice’s radio show plot hasn’t even been made official yet. So maybe Dedalus’ plan of that buddy-system [x (first paragraph)] for new Order members could take effect on her as a test dummy? :’ D

EXTRA FOR NON-BIO CHARACTERS:

PAST: Born and raised as an Irish Catholic in Derry during The Troubles of Northern Ireland, young Maddy learnt from a young age that there are people who will kill you based on something you cannot control. Born and raised amongst a family of nine children, however, she also learnt that being different is a gift and not something you should hide. Being the same as everyone else, one of many, might make life easy, but it certainly doesn’t make life honest and good. This realisation came when she met the ghost of her aunt in the second-floor bathroom at Hogwarts – known as Moaning Myrtle; Maddy didn’t know why she was the only one of her siblings to have been granted magical powers, but she sure as hell – sorry for the swearing! – understood in this very moment that keeping a low profile like Myrtle had done fifty years ago would neither protect her life, nor change the world for the better. Thus, in the span of four years, she grew to be the most honest version of herself that she could possibly be: an Irish Catholic Muggleborn Witch with a love for superhero comics. Selling Muggle trinkets at Hogwarts (ranging from ballpens to comic books) she was known as the proud Hufflepuff who knew how to befriend about anyone. ‘Kill them with kindness’ became her motto, and while she still had a lot to learn regarding how to be as self-assured as she liked to present herself to be, she was, for the most part, succeeding in her mission to introduce Purebloods to Muggle culture, building bridges for those two worlds in ways she knew she’d never be able to do it for the English and the Irish at home.

 PRESENT: The cat who dragged her into the Order was Maurice Creevey and his radio show. Her “What do I possibly have to offer them, though?” was answered with a “Perspective,” and it was all she needed to hear to be convinced. Had he said ‘your wits’, ‘your optimism’, or ‘the stakes you have in this war,’, she would’ve declined and gone back home to her Muggleborn flatmates who have turned their back to the Wizarding World after graduating from Hogwarts. But he said: “Perspective”, and that was the one thing Maddy has always believed is in her range of capabilities. After all, she does have a different perspective on it all, and she is more than willing to teach people of this perspective, of her side of the story, to make them empathise and want to tear down the walls of cultural divide alongside with her. She firmly believes that everyone could be friends if they only understood each other, and she’s not afraid to grab her megaphone to have communication happen. Either way, she does not care for another war like there is at home, does not care at all for seeing more people she loves be killed by being shot in the back, the way it happened to her father in 1972. So her main focus right now (except finding an empty place in Diagon Alley to set up her Muggle shop) is to identify the more radical members of the Order and explain to them that they shouldn’t hurt anyone on behalf of the Muggleborns, or there will be direct retaliation against exactly those. And once she’s got them in her pocket, she wants to update the Hogwarts curriculum to educate Wizards about Muggles to finally end the divide – and perhaps even the Statue of Secrecy, one day. 

FC CHOICES: Sirena Warren as found here: [x], [x], [x]. Alternatively: Meta Gewald [x], [x], [x] or Faith Jaggernauth [x], [x], [x] . I must admit, none of them have very good resources, though…

[multi-fandom-shipper-20]

Zelda Spellman X Morticia Addams

For @zeldaxspellman

.

.

.

Many years ago, so many that Zelda had lost count, she had a friend named Morticia Frump who she had befriended as a small child. Hilda had thought that even then - as a child a few years younger than the pair - that they were insufferable when they were together. If they weren't off terrorizing the neighbours they were poking dead animals with sticks! As the three girls grew older and time flew by Zelda and Morticia lost contact when she became old enough to sign her name in the book of Satan and join the Academy. For a while she attempted to write Morticia although, alas she did not prevail. Once Zelda and Hilda's parents passed away during Hilda's first year at the Academy, Zelda insisted on taking care of her younger sister much to the delight of Hilda. With their brother Edward off on some secrect travels it left Zelda and Hilda time to bond. The age difference between the three siblings meant that Edward had no interest for his sister's although he loved them dearly. During one of Edward's fleeting visits to home, he had mentioned seeing the "black haired girl" that Zelda hung around with as a child. Intrigued by her brothers story she had asked if he had anymore details on her long lost friend.

"She gave me her address incase you wanted to get in touch Zelda, but don't hold out too much hope for she is to marry" Edward had huffed, thrusting a crinkled piece of paper into his sister's hands. Zelda looked at the paper as if it were a life line. After excusing herself from the dining table, Zelda whipped up the stairs and immediately wrote to Morticia Frump explaining in great detail what she had been up to since they last spoke.

The pair met up often throughout the vigorous exchange of letters between Morticia shopping for her upcoming nuptials and Zelda helping run Spellman Mortuary. As the pair reconnected they began developing feelings for one another that they were too afraid to admit to. So without another word between the pair, Morticia married Gomez Addams and started life as it meant to go on. Alone in Greendale, Zelda herd tale of her friends wedding but neglected to attend. A few months passed before Zelda would see Morticia again and this time Morticia felt as though she would be impertinent.

"Zelda Spellman! I know you can see me and as someone who loves you I command you speak to me!" Morticia had yelled from the opposite side of the street causing Zelda to rush over there and cover Morticia's mouth with her hand. "Follow me, quietly." Was Zelda's only response as she pulled the other woman into an abandoned building. "Well?" Morticia had growled as she leaned against the closest pillar, her arms crossed against her chest, clearly impatient with Zelda. "In what way?" Zelda asked quietly, her eyes scanning the floor below her as she tried to carefully pick the words that she was about to say. "I beg your pardon?" Morticia barked, confused by Zelda's almost complete meltdown. "You said, 'as someone who loves you' and I'm wondering in which way do you love me? Platonically or Romantically? It's a simple question Morticia do I really have to spell it for you?" Zelda snapped, finally able to find the correct words. "No, Zelda. Do I have to spell it for you?" Morticia pointed out as she locked eyes with Zelda so that she could read her like an open book. Without hesitation and without a moment's thought, Zelda pushed Morticia into the pillar and kissed her as if her life depended on it.

After a few moments, the pair pulled away to catch their breath. Zelda was the first to regain her breathing and as if a Light bulb had gone off in her head, she looked as though she was a deer caught in headlights. "Oh my Satan! What have we done?! You're married! Oh Praise Satan that I don't end up in purgatory for this!" Zelda began to panic, her breathing becoming uneven and stepping away from Morticia. "Darling, I'm divorcing Gomez. As much as I thought I could stop loving you and begin to love him it seemed as though my heart was crying out for someone else" Morticia chuckled, amused at Zelda's state of distress, something of which she hadn't seen for a while. "Oh Satan! What am I going to tell Hilda! Shit! Never mind Hilda what am I going to tell Edward! It's not as though you're a witch!" Zelda groaned as she paced the room faced with more than she had bargained for. "Zelda, darling. Look at me" Morticia cooed to her pacing lover in an attempt to calm her. "Gee, Ticia. What have we gotten into?" Zelda sighed as she rested her head on Morticia's shoulder. "There's nothing to worry about, Ze. Whilst with Gomez, I began studying the art of Witch Craft. I even took a few online courses at the Academy. Besides, my great great great great great grandmother was a witch it just became diluted and unpractised within my family" Morticia hummed as she ran her fingers through Zelda's hair in an attempt to calm her.

As the days drew by, Morticia had officially moved in with Zelda, Hilda and Edward whilst waiting on the finalization of her divorce from Gomez. Once complete, Morticia and Zelda began living as a married couple although not legally.

"Ticia, why don't you and Ze get married? It's not as if you can't. I would happily marry you both in the Church of Satan." Edward had mused one evening out of the blue. "Just because your married brother, doesn't mean everyone else has to be" Zelda had interjected, not wanting to think of such a trivial thing when her darling niece was due to be born any day now. Despite brushing it off neither Zelda or Morticia forgot about Edward's comment that morning at breakfast. They had been living together for quiet sometime now, even Hilda had found herself a lover every now and then but Zelda had never thought about finding someone she would want to spend her eternity with, that was until she had met Morticia.

Still, the years continued to fly by, Edward and his wife's death became a surprise to everyone in the Spellman/Gomez household, Ambrose came to live with the three women and Sabrina who was just a toddler at the time. When it was time for Sabrina to sign the book of Satan and join the Academy, Morticia was the one who held the voice of reason over Zelda even with Hilda's noted points.

"What do you mean you don't want to sign the book? It's a rite of passage! Your Father did the same thing!" Zelda spat at Sabrina that morning before school. "Now now, Zelda, this must be Sabrina's choice should it not?" Morticia hummed as she knitted away at the her latest project. "Morticia has a point Zelda" Hilda interjected. "Yes but even we had to sign the book did we not Hilda?" Zelda glared pointedly at her sister. "You and I both know that your sister never liked the whole idea of forcing a child to choose between a normal life and this one. Maybe, if we let Sabrina decide on what she wants to do she will do the right thing for her" Morticia smiled as she set her needles to work by themselves as she sipped her tea, carefully eyeing the situation of the morning. "Praise Satan she makes the logical decision and follow in her family's footsteps by signing the book of Satan and joining the Academy!" Zelda huffed in aguish as she poured fresh tea into Morticia's cup.

.

.

.

.

.

@zeldaxspellman Please feel free to add to this and develop it even more but this was playing on my mind for a origin story of how Zelda & Morticia had met and essentially fell in love. I do apologise if this was not at all like anything you had imagined for the pair but I think this is the only way I could do it without killing Gomez! Also if you know someone who could create the younger versions of Zelda, Hilda, Morticia and Edward I think that would be amazing!

[god-ihope-iget-it]

Play Reccomendations

Below are a list of plays that I have read/seen that I thoroughly enjoyed and reccommend if you get the chance to experience them yourselves.

1. The Glass Menagerie by Tennessee Williams

I saw The Glass Menagerie a couple years ago and absolutely adored it. The set had been painted so that the dream-like aspect came through and I found it completely mesmerizing. It’s such a great dark representation of the memories of a man about his subjective memory. While many often consider this a realism play, I would argue it fits more into a more theatrical category thanks to its clearly subjective point of view and, depending on the interpretation, the non-literal world of the set. 

2. Eurydice by Sarah Ruhl

Eurydice is a quirky little play that has a lot of heart and sadness to it. It’s very short -- reading it will probably take you under an hour -- but very thought-provoking. It has a lot of potential to be realized with utmost creative freedom. The absurdity of the world and the characters make this interpretation of the classic Orpheus and Eurydice myth a unique interpretation.

3. Angels in America by Tony Kushner

Although I sadly never got to see the much-talked-about revival that was staged just a year or two ago, I read the plays in a college course and absolutely fell in love. The characters are drawn beautifully and the language is incredible. Harper will probably be a dream role for me (once I get to be the correct age), and it’s just wonderful. It’s incredible to read and I’m sure even more incredible to watch. The interruptions that pull you out of the play simultaneously intrigue you enough to captivate your attention and forces you to really think about the art you are witnessing. 

4. A Devil Inside by David Lindsay-Abaire

I saw this play in high school. Even in a high school production, this play had some serious appeal to me. It is a dark comedy, and the characters are all quite interesting to watch and observe. Their individuality gives them depth while the hidden web that connects all the characters makes for compelling theatre. The tragedy of the unresolved ending is really quite startling but it is somehow refreshing to not have  a play be tied up with a neat little bow at the end.

5. Between Riverside and Crazy by Stephen Adly Guirgis

I saw a professional production of this play quite recently actually, and it was very interesting. The characters are some of the most real you could hope for. It is a real description of the imperfection of humanity despite our best efforts to be “good.” We do things that are wrong and yet, can still retain a true sense of ourselves. It’s a little bit of a complicated plot but you can follow along pretty well.

6. A Doll’s House by Henrik Ibsen

I love the ending of this play. It’s just so good. It may be Ibsen and more “classic” but it has some strong feminist themes as you examine Nina and her relationship to her husband. I bought this play at a used book shop and couldn’t be happier that I did. 

7. The Seagull by Anton Chekhov

I’ve used Nina’s monologue from this play twice in auditions (once succesfully, and once not as much) and the story always continues to move me. I have read this play and I love the themes presented through the novel of desire and doing what we feel we must do, even if it is not the best option. It is about the faults of humanity and our pitfalls in our reasoning. It’s some potent stuff and I for one, am a big fan. 

8. You Can’t Take It With You by Kaufman and Hart

I love this play. I read it in High School when we were supposed to put it on and it was so funny I couldn’t get through the first read-through. Even though we never actually produced it, I have a deep love for it and hope to do it again someday soon. The characters are not necessarily charicatures when you really look at them, but the chaos of everything that could go wrong will when all Alice wants is for it to go right. “One Normal Night” as some might say (cough, cough, The Addams Family musical is just the plot of this play but with the Addams family characters and set to music)

9. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead by Tom Stoppard

OOf, I read this as a supplement to Hamlet in my AP Lit class and the first time I read it I was like “oh, cool, that’s funny I guess” but then we had all our class discussions about it and I slowly came to understand how painfully depressing this play is. It is absurd and existential and everything you would want in a play about characters who cannot exist outside of what has been written for them by a larger hand (Shakespeare’s).

[wolfrunner25]

I posted 266 times in 2022

That's 66 more posts than 2021!

246 posts created (92%)

20 posts reblogged (8%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@tony-stark-ing

@superherotiger

@dailyironfamily

@teamironmanforever

@jen27ny

I tagged 253 of my posts in 2022

Only 5% of my posts had no tags

#good morning - 178 posts

#goodmorning - 61 posts

#keepmovingforward - 17 posts

#mentalwellness - 14 posts

#keep going - 13 posts

#be kind - 13 posts

#life - 11 posts

#mental health - 11 posts

#keep working on you - 11 posts

#change - 10 posts

Longest Tag: 40 characters

#dont take things out on the wrong people

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

3 Oct 22

Good Morning! “We're taught to be ashamed of confusion, anger, fear and sadness, and to me they're of equal value to happiness, excitement and inspiration.” - Alanis Morissette

We are taught that certain emotions are bad and others are good but that is not true. Emotions are just emotions, not good or bad. ALL emotions are valid, the question is this; is that emotion valid for the current experience. It can be hard for someone who has been afraid for so long, who uses anger as an armor to hide that fear to let it all go. Never feel bad for having emotions. Every single human has them. When you feel an emotion that might not be appropriate for the situation then you must ask yourself, 'Is this correct for the situation and what am I going to do with it?' Also, never judge yourself for feeling something and don't judge the emotion itself because again it is not good or bad, its just what you are feeling. Remember that emotions are like waves on the ocean, they come and they go and when they go let them go. So my wish for each of you today is this, if you are feeling an emotion, then feel it as it happens then as it fades away you let it go. Have a good day my friends.

2 notes - Posted October 3, 2022

#4

10 Jan 22

Good morning! “Life is 10% what happens to you and 90% how you react to it.” - Charles R. Swindoll

I once worked with a guy, that when something happened at work that he didn't like then everything sucked and he called the place a “shit show”. I always wanted to tell him, “No, you are making it a shit show with your attitude.” There is always going to be things that happen that you don't like but how you respond to those things can make all the difference in the world. So I hope you have a good day and can roll with the punches life gives you.

2 notes - Posted January 10, 2022

#3

15 Apr 22

Good morning. “Life is too short to not have fun; we are only here for a short time compared to the sun and the moon and all that.” - Coolio

Make time in your life for fun. Fun with family or friends is what you remember. You won't remember all the work you did. It will be the fun, joyous moments that you will remember. So get out and find something fun to do this weekend. I hope each of you has a good day.

2 notes - Posted April 15, 2022

#2

5 Aug 22

Good morning. “Perhaps nothing is so fraught with significance as the human hand.” - Jane Addams

Our hands are amazing, we can do labor, we can hold a child, we can communicate. I was sitting here this morning thinking about my hands and how they grip items which led me to think about all the good they can do and unfortunately the evil that we can use them for. Everyone's hands are different, shape, length, width, age, or texture. None of us will grip or hold something exactly like someone else. Just like our hands, our own journey thought this life is different then someone else. Even if two people experience an same exact moment, their lives up to that point will influence how they see and remember that moment. One person may think of the beautiful day it was, but the other might see into the shadows. Our life experiences shape the world as we see it, just like our hands can shape the world around us. The beauty of this is that we are all different but we are the same. There are small differences that make us unique, but we are all human, with eyes, ears, hands, feet. Let's remember just because we might have different views from our life experience, we can come together and help one another. Together we can shape this world around us into a better place. I wish each of you a good day.

2 notes - Posted August 5, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Good Morning. I'm going to do something a little different this morning.

Memorial Day, formerly Decoration Day, in the United States, holiday (last Monday in May) honoring those who have died in the nation’s wars. It originated during the American Civil War when citizens placed flowers on the graves of those who had been killed in battle.

After World War I, as the day came to be observed in honor of those who had died in all U.S. wars, its name changed from Decoration Day to Memorial Day. Since 1971 Memorial Day has been observed on the last Monday in May.

This weekend may, for some, signal the start of summer but you better believe that I will remember the reason we have this holiday. We as Americans owe a deep debt to those who gave their lives for this country. We are flawed and at times divided, but I believe that it doesn't matter your political beliefs on this subject. So thank you to each and every soldier, sailor, airman and others who have died for the USA. To the rest of us, say a prayer or whatever it is you do for these men and women to give thanks, then have your cookout.

21 notes - Posted May 30, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[localhummingbird]

Combusto Apocalypse: Ch. 4

In which I am a Complete and Utter Buffoon and lose over half of my screenshots!

The background of this Beatles-esque screenshot looks kinda of weird because I hadn’t bothered to fix the skies, but whatever.

I had intended to take more screenshots this time around and play a little slower, partly to keep myself engaged and partly so that I wouldn’t go back and read this in a couple months and be bored by the amount of birthdays in each chapter. But alas, it was not meant to be - at some point fraps closed during the college years and all I am left with are pictures taken with the shitty in-game camera. I’ll use a couple pictures taken in game for some major things that happened, but beware my friends... they’re not pretty.

So when we last left off, all the Combusto kids had made it to college with no money and a half-built house that they couldn’t even walk into because I couldn’t afford stairs. Woops.

Everyone grew up well except Ava for some reason, and after this point I frequently confuse Ava and Holly for each other. Douglas grows up into orange once again, Elliot dresses like every boyfriend I had during my first two years of college, and Theo is just kinda there.

Everyone goes to the library immediately once I’ve realized my mistake so that they can get final papers in before their needs plummet.

I kinda wonder if this is supposed to be code or something. Maybe papers just look like that in simlish.

Everyone is a bunch of babies and won’t skill so I must resort to red hands for the millionth time.

Of course, they don’t have a shower on the home lot, so what’s a poor college sim to do but sponge bathe butt ass nude in the public restroom?

Luckily there are grills all over campus, so where there’s not a cafeteria there’s still a source of food.

Desperate for cash, Holly and Theo play for tips at the... club? I don’t remember where this is. Or if instruments are allowed, actually... damn it!

...

After some extensive googling, the rules state that sims may not purchase select instruments, but they don’t say anything about using them on community lots. So I think it’s okay.

Elliot immediately spends his cousin’s hard earned cash on a drink at the bar. Grr. Useless! Now you’ll just have to pee a lot!

“What? What’s college without irresponsible spending on alcohol?” 

Douglas unsurprisingly drifts toward the bubble bar. What did I tell you?

“I suddenly feel the urge to tell every person I meet about how much I love this kind, kind flower!”

Ugh, freshmen.

I don’t know what it is about Theo but I hate looking at him. 

Get out of here, you demon!! Leave my boys alone!

The Combustos all wander over to the Gym, where it looks like the worst of the default Maxis clothes have culminated. To be fair though, there are quite a few people who dress like this at my school.

Ava for some reason has her custom hair back when she works out, and spots Kevin Bear (or something) across the way. Look at that smile! 

Kevin accepts her advances right away, and even though he’s a playable he seems alright. Hmm, if you play your cards right you’ll be living in a mansion outside of the Apocalypse lot, kid.

I thought that this was really sweet - everyone took a plate from the cafeteria and then they all sat together. Aww, family! Well, except Elliot. I don’t know where he went. 

Holly tries to earn some cash by working as a barista, but it isn’t going well. People keep coming up, ordering a drink, and then leaving it on the counter.

The Resident Streaker™ comes up to some random student and does this... 

...and when he runs off she just smiles! What a load of garbage, who coded this? In what universe would this be the correct response? Will Wright you perv.

Alright folks, it’s about to get rough. Bear with me through the in game screenshots.

Everyone passes their first year with a 4.0 thanks to a lot of coffee drinking and cursing on my end, and it’s finally enough to furnish the house a bit. Not enough for a floor or wall paint, but hey, you take what you can get.

Sophomore year comes and goes, and all of the kids re-roll. I don’t remember as what because I didn’t write it down and don’t feel like opening the game, but all that’s important is that Theo rolled as family and Holly rolled as romance. Much more fitting for a sim with one nice point.

Lexie keeps dropping by and ringing the doorbell and then immediately leaving. What, you want to reconnect with your kids now that they’re grown? Tough!!

The Llama barges in frequently but surprisingly never causes any problems. He just kinda reads and then leaves. A perfect target for a certain romance sim...

“Me?”

Yes, you! I think! I’m actually not sure if that’s you or your sister in this picture!

Alright, well that backfired pretty quickly. They woohoo’d and then he randomly ran onto the lot while she was flirting with a certain ugly someone. I’ve subject myself to a generation of tipped over garbage cans, great.

Holly is the pickiest romance sim ever. Come on, you have two bolts for that dude!! Stop complaining!

Everyone gets into a groove after a while. Days are spent skilling...

...and nights are spent making friends, woohooing for grades and random family visits.

And then there’s this incredibly calm cheerleader, who only every comes over to look at some invisible art piece on the very back corner of the lot. 

Yep... sure is a... neat poster there.

Then this lovely lady walks by, and she looks like the perfect woman for Douglas! No, I don’t know why. I just kinda like her vibe. She seems like a distant relative of the Addams family.

First kiss didn’t exactly go very well, but they made up later. Douglas isn’t exactly a ladies man.

Holly, however, has quite the opposite reputation.

“You know, 10 body points go pretty far in the bedro-” “Yeah whatever, as long as you don’t get mad later and stay a family friend so everyone can top their careers I don’t really care.”

Then this... dazzling creature walks by. He falls easily for Holly’s romancing, not unlike the others. And they have THREE bolts for each other!

Picky, picky! Three bolts and still no smile, huh? Jeez, I don’t know how I’m going to find you a spouse. (She got caught cheating but I can’t for the life of me remember who was involved.)

Anyway, then everyone graduated, moved back home, blah blah blah

And Holly tops Architecture with ease! Yaaaaay now we can start rebuilding the house!!!!

With Architecture lifted, we can now build outside the 8x8 lot, build fancy houses, and buy (somewhat) fancier furniture!

Phew, that was the last of the in-game camera.

Theo visits the local business center before taking up a job as CEO only to witness a brutal zombie takedown in the restaurant. 

“Snore.... I’m so smart.... zzzzz”

Not much has changed back at home.

Oh jesus christ. I forgot I had replaced the social bunnies. Bonus old man butt.

Holly does what romance sims do best and builds up that sweet, sweet family friends number. I haven’t picked a spouse for her yet, though. No one’s really caught my eye.

I lost the pictures, but Theo and Ava top Business and Athletic on the same day!! We can now move stuff around, carry more in inventory, sell stuff without restriction, and start our own business! Woooo!

As soon as they topped their careers, they moved out and proposed to their respective partners. Theo married some rando from college and Ava married Kevin! Well, tried to marry him. He won’t move in for some reason. But whatever! I’ll fix it later.

Through the magic of boolprop, Theo and his wife Solveig have two kids back to back...

and uh... I don’t remember their names. Oops. But now there’s some non-townie kids who may come home on the bus with future generations!

And with all the potential building restrictions gone, it’s finally time to say goodbye to the Poorly Planned Cement Square. One last look at the inside so you can all get a feel for how badly I organized the furniture...

The bedroom/nursery/skilling room...

and the kitchen/study/dining room/bathroom. Good riddance!!!!!

Welp, that’s all for now. I’m working on the main lot’s house at the moment, and I’m going big. I’ll probably post a photoset with rooms once I figure out how to successfully furnish a house. So... it might be a while. Till next time!!

[hekate1308]

The Home We’ve Made

This is my being inspired by the Addams Family. Destiel. Enjoy!

A small part of Sam always assumed he’d fall in with his brother again, even though he knew there was only a small chance.

But every time he pictured their reunion, it was a bit more... well...

First things first.

Sam doesn’t have anything against monsters or demons or whatever else might crawl about in the world. They usually keep to themselves, and despite public misconceptions, they rarely kill or even attack humans.

And yet their father spent decades convinced that they had killed Mom, only to poison himself with alcohol in the end. By that time, Sam had been long gone, and, as he found when he arrived to organize the funeral, so was Dean.

All the times he’s wondered where life has taken him over the years, he’s been worried that he’s been walking down the same path as Dad.

The last time he saw him, right before he left for college, it certainly seemed that way. Dean was begging him to stay because only as a family they could be safe. Sam told him to grow up and slammed the door behind him.

Sam looks down on the file at his desk. Arthur Ketch, one of the vilest businessmen he’s ever come across (and as a lawyer, he meets enough... indecent people), has decided to buy a certain patch of land and build a skyscraper there. problem is, monsters and their loved ones live there, and they don’t want to sell; so he’s decided to use lawsuit over lawsuit to have them declared non-people, entities with no rights of their own.

Sam’s firm just took the case – for the monsters. He’s never been gladder he decided to take this job.

It’ll be best if he gets to know them first. He believes he’s pretty tolerant, but a meeting would do away with any prejudices he still carries around.

The land the monsters inhabit is located at the edge of town, although they have slowly advanced towards their human neighbours as the years progressed. There are more than enough humans now who have no problems befriending vampires and others.

Still, Sam can’t help but think it might not be the best omen that the first thing he comes across is a demon with dark red eyes and blood on his hands.

After he’s introduced himself, the demon’s eyes slowly return to green as he grins. “Sam Winchester? Now isn’t that interesting.” He doesn’t elaborate. “You want to talk to Cassie and Dean. They’re the leaders of our little group, if you wish to call it that.”

He points at a house further down the street. “My next door neighbours. Lovely couple.”

When he sees Sam looking at his hands, he adds, “Just a little ritual, something to take the edge of. No harm in that.”

Sam nods and moves on. If he really hurt anyone, they would know about it.

He knocks at Cassie’s (Cassandra?) and Dean’s (as always he feels a pang thinking of the name) door.

The man who opens him has dark hair and incredibly blue eyes it’s easy to drown in – Sam catches himself just in time.

“My apologies.”

The siren blinks and his eyes stop glowing. “My husband has long been immune against my snares. I forgot.”

“No harm done.” Once he explains his business, the siren looks – stricken? But they wanted his firm to take the case, so why –

“You – “ the siren forces out, “You are – “

“Cas?” a voice called out and then a man – human – stepped up to them.

Sam would have recognized him anywhere.

“Dean?”

“Sammy?”

Several explanations and a crushing hug later they were sitting in Dean’s and Cas’ kitchen, and Sam was trying to wrap his head around this new reality.

Dean was married. To a male. A male siren. And was living an apple-pie life.

Even if they don’t exactly have a picket fence.

Most monsters enjoy playing with human fears a bit, and Dean’s and Cas’ house is no exception. The prominent colours are black and purple, although Dean seems to have added shades of blue and green as well; there’ something looking like a human skull sitting on top of the fire place; and the pictures of their friends...

“I met him. He showed me your place” he says, pointing to a photo that he assumes shows Dean and Cas joining him for one of his rituals.

“Crowley. A bit much sometimes, but not a bad bloke” Dean says smoothly.

“What about him?” he asks when he comes across one where someone’s chugging apparently two litters of blood from a bottle.

“Benny. Vampire. Lives down the street. Just changed his wife Andrea. Cute couple, though not as cute as we, right babe?” Dean kisses Cas.

Sam swallows. “And these two are – “ There’s a woman conjuring butterflies out of thin air, a redhead looking at her adoringly.

“Gilda and Charlie. First friends we made around here.”

“I see.”

And that’s only the beginning. After they’ve gone through the case – there really is no way Ketch can win, but now Sam wants to make absolutely sure of that – Cas leaves them alone.

For a whole of five minutes.

Crowley appears in front of them. “Hey Squirrel, how’s the family reunion going?”

“Of course you didn’t say anything.”

He smiles. Thankfully he’s cleaned up. “The ghouls were getting a little cranky, by the way. I fixed it.”

“Sam mentioned the ritual.”

“They have enough carcasses now for a while.”

“Thanks. Dinner tonight?”

“Always a pleasure.”

He dis- then reappears in a matter of seconds. “Oh, and just a fair warning – my dear mother and I had another fight, there might be more raining frogs coming.”

“They were cute anyway. See you at dinner.”

“Laterz, Squirrel. Greet Feathers from me.” He looks at Sam, then snaps his fingers. “You can be Moose. Till then, Moose.”

And he’s gone.

“Sorry” Deans says matter-of-factly, “Rituals always rile him up a bit.”

Before Sam can asks about his mother, the door bell rings. It’s the vampire from the pictures, and as soon as Dena heard his voice, he asks his brother to join him and Cas.

“Hey Benny, how’s Andrew doing?”

“She’s wonderful about it all. Also, we’ve more than enough blood, so...”

“Ah, that reminds me” Dean interrupts him, popping into the kitchen and coming back with a blood bag. “Just in case.”

“Thanks, brother. Don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I know what I’d do” Cas mumbles softly, taking Dean’s hand. “Crash and burn.”

“Oh, hush” Dean kisses him. “You were doing fine before I came along.”

Sirens, Sam suddenly remembers, life off the love and affection they inspire by snaring people – despite these emotions not being genuine. How much more nourishing must Dean’s true love be?

Not that it is one-sided. Cas could not look at his brother like that without reciprocating his feelings.

Sam’s mind is reeling. It has all been a bit much, and he says his goodbyes soon afterwards.

“You alright, Sammy?” Dean asks, just as Crowley pops back in – literally – wondering if they need help in the kitchen.

“Yes” he says weakly. “I just... have a lot of work to do.”

It’s clearly not enough for Dean, who looks like he did that time fifteen years ago when Sam left him behind with Dad.

Before any of the assembled monsters can react, Sam leaves, feeling like a jerk even as he does.

He has Dean’s number, and he is determined to call him soon; just because his brother’s life happens to be a bit... unusual, he won’t cut him out of his again.

Dean surprises him during his lunch break the next day. “Hey, Sammy. Wanna try the best burger in town?”

“Sure” he replies, although normally he’d prefer a salad. But Dean has come, has put himself out there, so he can at least accompany him to where he’s comfortable.

The Roadhouse proves to be exactly the kind of bar Dean loved back when Sam left... with one exception.

“Are they...”

“Ellen and Jo? Amazons. Ellen broke away from her group to actually meet someone and fall in love instead of rearing a man-killer. Her husband’s a pretty cool guy too.”

“I see.”

After a few minutes of silence, Sam admits, “Dean, I – I don’t really – “

“Yeah” he says, “Me neither.”

They laugh.

“It’s... alright, maybe I should start from the beginning.”

And Dean takes a deep breath and tells him how he met his husband.

It’s just another day in the life of Dean. Dad’s already drunk again and has called him three times in the last hour, causing his boss to give him a talk about “appropriate phone time”, Sam is still gone, and Dean has had enough.

He’s about to start screaming at the world, God, and his phone specifically when Cas walks in. He knows immediately he’s a siren. No human could have eyes that blue.

“I’m sorry, but my car appears to have stopped working...”

And that voice too? That was just unfair...

Dean caught himself just in time. Dude was a siren. Maybe he was trying to snare him in?

But when he looked at Dean, his eyes appeared completely normal. “Can you fix it?”

“Let me take a look” he said and smiled.

The siren took a double-take but then smiled back at him.

And Dean was a goner.

“I asked him to marry me right then and there.”

Sam spits his drink. “You didn’t.”

“To be fair, his attraction to me had activated his powers. It took a bit of manoeuvring until we got through that.”

“He said you aren’t affected anymore.”

“Nah. The powers he has are meant to create quick, unimportant feeling so the siren can feed off of them. What we have is the real deal. He tells me has almost forgotten what hunger feels like by now.”

“I’m happy for you, Dean” Sam says, “I truly am. It’s just... the way we were brought up... and you interacting with all these...”

“They’re friends. Some of them are even family. I mean, you could probably try to get rid of Crowley, but I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“I understand. Only... I’m trying to be tolerant. I thought I was. But the blood and the – to an outsider, it looks like you’re insane.”

“We are, just a little bit” Dean concedes, “But most who get to know us – really get to know us – learn to accept that.”

Sam nods, accepting the challenge. “What is that story with Crowley’s mother and the frogs?”

Dean grimaces. “Rowena. She’s a real witch.”

“So she’s a bad demon?”

“No, Sammy” he corrects him, chuckling, “She’s a witch.”

Sam has never been entirely sure those exist. “I see.”

“Oh you don’t. Rowena needs to be seen to be believed.”

“Alright then, I will.”

Dean looks at him. “Sam, you don’t have to. I get that – my life – I love it, but it’s weird. It’s entirely possible I’m a little crazy. But it’s normal for me, and it’s what I chose. I won’t force you to – “

“No – “ he reaches out and grabs Dean’s shoulder. “Dean. I want to get to know you and this life you’ve carved out for yourself. I imagine it hasn’t always been easy.”

Dean smirks. “You have no idea. Some of Cas’ folks... they weren’t too keen on him marrying a human. But it all worked out in the end.”

Sam can only hope it will for them, too.

Ten years later

Sam sleeps in on this Saturday; when he enters the kitchen, only his wife is sitting at the table, nursing her coffee.

“Good morning” he says, kissing Eileen, “Where are the kids?”

“Crowley took them and their cousins to Disneyland for an hour as a treat” she replies, using sign language. She normally doesn’t talk unless she’s had three cups of coffee.

He nods. “You gave him the bronze knife?”

“Yes, the djinn will have no problem with his coming-of-age ceremony now.”

Sam grins. Times have changed. When he and Dean first reconnected, he turned from “that one smartass” to “the one with the weird brother” in his firm. These days? He’s just plain “That’s how the Winchesters work, don’t ask.”

“Oh, also Drew sent an email. He wants to make his next will.”

He’s had Sam draw up ten so far. That’s what happens when you’re a phoenix and never entirely sure when you’re going to burst into flame next.

“I’ll call him later.”

Their next door neighbours stroll in, using their key.

“Hi guys” Dean greets them. “Thought I’d make breakfast for us while the rugrats are out.”

“Sounds good” Sam says.

“Everything Dean creates is good” Cas says, even though he still technically doesn’t need to eat.

“Oh, shush” Dean replies, kissing him. “Anyone up for pancakes?”

And so what if several goblins fly in through open window and out another while Dean walks over to the fridge?

Sam sits down next to his wife and relaxes.

All is well.

[jjnonken]

Updated 14 Mar 2020: The above link is broken. PC Gamer has gone on to the next thing; as of this update, clicking that will get you to an article about golden keys for the game. At least some other companies haven’t conveniently forgotten.

https://screenrant.com/gearbox-randy-pitchford-controversy-weirder/ http://socialbarrel.com/randy-pitchford-video-game-industrys-most-controversial-figure/121218/ https://www.playstationlifestyle.net/2019/06/19/randy-pitchford-legal-drama-shows-gearbox-president-diverted-funds/

And then there’s the stuff about Supmatto getting shut down. https://gamerant.com/borderlands-3-boycott-explain/ https://www.gamesindustry.biz/articles/2019-08-08-take-two-investigating-streamer-over-borderlands-3-leaks https://www.newsweek.com/boycottborderlands3-trends-twitter-controversy-youtuber-supmatto-1453013 https://www.eurogamer.net/articles/2019-08-16-borderlands-3-youtubers-channel-disappears-amidst-take-two-investigation-over-leaks

Some of those are redundant, but hopefully it will preserve the information if other sites throw away history like PC Gamer did.

My original posting follows.

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

Here’s why I’m not buying Borderlands 3. Not yet; possibly never.

TL;DR: Randy and his goons are hurting people and I’m not OK with that.

My stats: across all my accounts, according to Steam, I’ve got 323 hours playing the original Borderlands (including both the GOTY and the new Enhanced edition); 687 hours playing the Pre-Sequel; and a whopping 3413 hours on Borderlands 2. Total: 4413 hours playing the Borderlands franchise, not including a partial run-through of Tales of the Borderlands. (Nothing wrong with it per se; it’s just not the type of game I usually like to play, and I lost interest before I finished.)

(Why BL2 more than BL? Probably because I started with BL2, so that’s the one I love. I could go on about the details, but I think it boils down to familiarity. I think that typically happens to people who started on the first game: they prefer it because it’s where they started, and what they know. I can’t say that’s the only reason, or that it’s everybody’s reason, nor that all people who started with one cannot prefer the other. It’s just what I think happens typically. And it’s speculation, at that. So please don’t read more into it than is there.)

Needless to say I’m a little burned out Borderlands; but I’ll still be happy to play any of the (non-Tales -- which is single-player anyway) games with a friend, and I expect that I’ll probably be working on finishing my first BLE playthrough soon-ish, though I’ve been distracted by another game (7 Days to Die, in case you’ve not been following my blog. Which you probably haven’t; I don’t think anybody is).

So when they announced BL3 and said you’d be able to pre-purchase the super extra plus edition online and get some nifty exclusive skins, I already had my credit card out and drool all over the carpet before the echos died. 

The first news came through: it wouldn’t be on Steam. It would be an exclusive on Epic for six months; after that, presumably it would show on Steam.

What the fuck?

I put my credit card down and mopped up the drool and considered their stated reasons and the ins and outs of this development, and decided I could live with it. They had their reasons, and the main one was money (of course; it always comes down to money). As long as it worked, and as long as it came back to Steam eventually, I would be OK. In fact I’d probably survive even if it was always on Epic. It’s not like I’m married to Steam or anything. And I’m on other platforms (at very least, Blizzard and Xbox). So after some soul searching I picked up my credit card and...

...now these aren’t necessarily in the correct order... ([edit] yeah, in fact, apparently Baker came first, then Eddings, and that’s just these two, though it’s possible I’d simply heard them out of order...)

...heard that David Eddings wasn’t doing Claptrap’s voice. According to him, he’d offered and been rebuffed. According to Randy Pitchford, they’d offered and he’d turned them down. 

OK, well, he-said-she-said. Hard to know from the peanut gallery whose story was accurate, if either, or if it was something between or some third option. Still, it left a bit of a bad taste in my mouth. David Eddings not doing Claptrap? That’s like, like, like Ted Cassidy not playing Lurch. 

At least the Addams Family movies have an excuse, seeing as how Cassidy died in 1979. Anyway, I’m being silly. While I was hesitating some more, I heard that Troy Baker wouldn’t be playing Rhys -- and his story sounded a lot like Eddings’. 

Two actors with essentially the same story? Once is happenstance; twice is enemy action? It’s certainly starting to look like a pattern. Either could be he-said-she-said, but each of the two lent credence to the other.

Still something I could live with. And then I started hearing controversies about Randy Pitchford.

Former Gearbox Lawyer Accuses CEO Randy Pitchford Of Taking Secret $12 Million Bonus

Claptrap voice actor accuses Randy Pitchford of assault

Then there’s the alleged USB stick of allegedly underage porn. Just type “Randy Pitchford controversy” into a search engine and stand well back.

Last month we started getting word about superfan Youtuber Supmatto having his channel shut down and having thugs appear on his doorstep and question him. After restoring his channel... they shut him down for good. Think what you will, but from what I can tell, he’d merely reported information given to him, and Take Two and 2K abused Youtube’s copyright system to deprive one of their biggest fans of a living. Even if they were in the right -- and that’s not clear -- there are a lot of ways they could have handled it better. Instead they went for the full nuclear option and did it the easy way (easy for them, that is -- didn’t take him to court, simply threw paperwork at Youtube) and threw physical intimidation on top of that.

So 2K and Take Two and Randy Pitchford are pissing me off, and from what I can see, pissing off a whole metric fuck-ton of other now-former fans of the franchise. I’m in good company, at least.

But even that isn’t all. There are two other personal reasons that I’ve been kind of ambivalent about BL3. One is that in a lot of ways, the content seems like... more of the same. I guess there’s always going to be a certain amount of that; it’s a continuation of a story that’s been running across ten years and four games which, yes, includes Tales. It’s set in the same universe and is based on the same characters. But each part of the franchise has been pretty decent at presenting fresh content. Yes, even the Pre-Sequel had a lot going for it, despite innumerable flaws. I have a lot of complaints about it, but I also think they came up with some cool stuff. And it advances the story.

Of course, I’ve not seen much, so maybe I’m just viewing this through a lens of disappointment. Don’t take that point too seriously. 

The second and more important one is that, all I feel when I look at the new Vault Hunters is... detachment. Again, maybe I’ll feel more immersion and engagement when (and if) I start playing the game. But none of those Vault Hunters particularly appeals to me. I look at the four of them and feel no pull, no preference, no reason to pick any of them. No “Oh, that’s neat! I want to do that!” They almost seem like cardboard cutouts to me.

And now some more weirdness is happening. Borderlands 3 pre-order pulled from Epic Games store, and there are reports of the strange way 2k is handling the prerelease testing. Apparently they’ve discounted the crap out of the game... why? Are they hoping to bribe back all the former fans they’ve pissed off? Frankly, it looks like a desperation move, and attempts to manipulate me that way are much more likely to piss me off more than lure me back. 

What’s this? One of the actors has apparently been abusing his girlfriend and... Pitchford just blows it off. *sigh* It just doesn’t end.

I won’t even address the microtransactions stuff and Pitchford’s gaff other than to say: as long as there’s no pay-to-win aspect (or even pay-to-shortcut), I don’t mind them. I’ve happily bought many skins in Payday 2 and Killing Floor, and weapons and skins in Team Fortress 2, and I own all the DLC for all the Borderlands games (multiple copies of most of it!). A lot of that is skin and head packs. And then there’s Overwatch. Some is direct (”Here’s some cash for that skin”) and some is indirect (”Here’s some cash for loot boxes, because dammit, I want those skins, and I have more money than brains”), but yeah... paid a lot of money over the years.

I’ve been saying that I would probably buy BL3 when it goes on sale on Steam. But now the question is... will I ever? BL3 may be the Alien³ of the Borderlands franchise for me; as far as I’m concerned, the Aliens franchise stopped after the second movie. I refuse to even watch the third or fourth. (Yes, I’ve watched Prometheus. More than once.) I may do the same here, refusing to acknowledge any legitimacy of Borderlands 3 and boycotting it completely.

We’ll see. 

So, thank you, Randy Pitchford, for making the announcement of a new installment in what is arguably my favorite game ever into bitter, angry, ugly disappointment. 

I’m on the horns of a dilemma, because I love the franchise, and some of my best and oldest gaming friends will be playing it while I sit on the sidelines. But what I’m seeing from the companies just makes me want to walk away.

I guess I didn’t want those exclusive skins that badly after all.