#or abandon something for a decade only to pick it back up for no reason

[marxalittle]

I remember, like, three chords (one of which may not be a chord) and how to do a moveable blues line. Which frankly may be all I've ever known.

I tuned my guitar over the weekend

First time in …nine years? Could be.

[misstycloud]

Platonic. yandere fae father

Part 2

—————-

Fae. Father! Who is a free-spirited forest fae; he obeys no one and has no ties to the mundane world. He does whatever he wants and spends everyday lazily sleeping in the luscious meadows or going for a swim in the crystal-blue lake that is well hidden from mortals. He is old by human standards, but quite young when comparing to how long a fae generally lives. It is noticeable in the way he acts.

Fae. Father! Who has no perception of time and has spent decades having the same routine over and over again. After so long, one is fated to become bored of it all. So what does he do? He decides to spend one summer engaged in a passionate love affair with a human! They were always fun to mess with. Not to mention kind of weird-looking too, they held no torch to his immortal and otherworldly beauty. After the summer is done and the leaves are turning yellow, he dumps the human like trash. He even goes as far as making fun of her for believing he actually loved her and banishing her from his part of the forest.

Fae. Father! Who’s one day traveling to another portion of the woodland in search for a certain water flower that he wishes to plant in his own little lake. Then, he hears a strange sound. It was a type of wailing mixied with gurgling- a horrible sound, really. Needing to find the source of the disturbing noise, the fae is led to the outskirts of his territory. There he sees a small bundle of cloth squirming on the ground. Poking at it cautiously, he uncovers the blankets and sees what was inside.

It appeared to be a human baby. But what on earth was it doing here? The fae was greatly confused. Had some human dared abandoning their offspring right outside his home? The audacity! He didn’t want any mortals anywhere near his home without his permission. After thinking for a minute, the fae come to the conclusion that he should simply eat the child or perhaps throw it to the wolves. He prepared to pick it up and get it done with when he noticed something off with the baby. It was strangely familiar somehow, and the aura it gave off wasn’t entirely like humans either. Carefully pulling the cloth further back from the baby’s face, it revealed the reason as to why it seemed so familiar; its ears were mostly round- human ears- except the tips were slightly pointed, just like his were.

Fae. Father! Who has the shocking realisation that the baby was his own child. It all dawned upon him. Putting the clues and timing together it was obviously the woman he’d spent the last summer with who was the mother. He didn’t know that humans and fae could procreate and therefore didn’t think this would happen.

Fae. Father! Who didn’t know what to do or how to feel in the beginning. Since the baby was his, he thought he couldn’t just leave it alone. So he brought it with him to his home. Normally, he’d be a bit repulsed by the baby considering children were known to be messy, disruptive and loud. However, he found that the babe stopped crying the moment he took it in his arms as he was brining it back with him, and it had been quiet since then. For some reason, it warmed his heart. It had this unusual, soft feeling. He tried shaking it off as being to overwhelmed but as time went on, the feeling only grew.

Fae. Father! Who completely fell in love with you not long after finding you. You were very cute compared to other newborns- most likely a result of your fae DNA. Besides, you didn’t cry as much and showed great kindness early in life. The fae, after a couple weeks of just keeping you in his home, decided to fully accept you into his life. He couldn’t help it, you were just too cute!

Fae. Father! Who had to get his act together. He could no longer be adventurous like he’d been his entire life, he was a father now and it meant he had to be responsible. He couldn’t bare it of something happened to you because of his recklessness.

Fae. Father! Who spent every waking moment with you, either swimming in the lake as he’d done so many times before, playing in the forest or befriending the animals. But his absolute favourite activity was whenever you’d braid each others hair. Yours looked so lovely with all the summer’s flowers imbedded in it. He wasn’t going to lie, he also rather enjoyed the praise and compliments he got from you regarding his own hair. You weren’t very skilled in the art of braiding yet, and it was messy compared to his work, but he couldn’t love it more. It was something you had done for him; that you spent time and effort doing.

Fae. Father! Who had actually been feeling a little lonely. Perhaps that was the real reason to why he sought closeness with a human. He knew, however, that is couldn’t last. A human and a fae? They were just too different. She would pass on too quickly, and he’d be left alone again. That would make him have to repeat the process over and over, which was something he wasn’t interested in.

But you were half fae. There was of course the issue of how long you’d live. While you were half immortal, your other half wasn’t. Logically, you wouldn’t live as long as a regular fae. It worried Fae Father greatly. You couldn’t die. What would he do without you? He tried not to dwell on it too much- you were still young and full of life. He had time to figure out how to keep you alive forever.

So just play and be happy with him.

—-

[hazeldragonblossoms]

aita for trying to summon a god to resurrect my wife?

i (142m) recently lost my wife (139f) to terminal illness. we were married for nearly 127 years, and were survivors of a disaster that destroyed our home city and killed nearly everyone in it. she was my best friend, the love of my life, and the light of my world. i’ve spent months trying to move on, but the pain of losing her has only grown stronger since her death, with my grief eventually leading me to quit my job and travel in the hopes of finding something else to live for. i will be upfront in admitting that, in the process of quitting, i blew up the school i worked at (no one was hurt), almost killed my assistant (he’s fine), and released a bunch of monsters from the abandoned gated community i had contained them in a few decades prior (long story).

anyway, during my travels i came across a relic that contained immense necromantic power, but i quickly realized that i would be unable to utilize it for my purposes on my own, as my wife had been dead for several months by that time and was well past the point of resurrection by conventional means. long story short, i decided to harness the power of the same god that caused the disaster that destroyed my and my wife’s former home.

as it turns out, my former boss (????m) picked up a kid (13x) off the street around the same time this was happening, and tasked my brother (also 142m, we’re twins) with teaching them magic. i won’t bore you with the details, but this thirteen year old now keeps following me around and fucking up my plans to reunite with my true love, which i’m frankly tired of.

(side note: this kid also won a fighting competition that hasn’t been won by someone from our school since i attended. i need to remind you, they are thirteen. i’m not certain they’d ever used magic before my boss picked them up, so i have no idea how this possibly could have happened, or when they had the time to even attend the fights since they’ve seemingly dedicated the majority of their time to fucking me over for no good reason.)

my ex-boss seems to think that summoning this being is a “bad idea” and could “destroy the world,” but 1. i’m doing it in my already ruined hometown and 2. i think that the world is a small price to pay to have my wife back. it’s not like it’s worth much without her in it, anyway.

edit: shut up about the fucking giant tree it’s an unrelated current event. you can’t prove that i actually did anything to him, and it’s rude to accuse people baselessly

[dailyadventureprompts]

Dungeon: The Tithing House

For decades the gang of highwaymen known as the Gallerwood Outlaws were famed and feared for equal measure, melting out of the forest to rob merchants, nobles, even mages, before vanishing back into the trees. Even after their awful deaths at the hand of a bountyhunter some years ago folk still sing of their deeds, and of the secret hideaway in which they stored their ill gotten gains.

Adventure Hooks:

Folk have been saying that the ghosts of the Gallerwood outlaws have been stalking the roads near where their bodies were hanged, still looking for one last haul. The party are tasked with investigating rumours after a fearful carter was set upon by these spectres, losing something precious in the process. This provides the excellent framing for a first adventure as each member of the party can be invested in retrieving something different out of the carter's cargo giving them a reason to work in the same direction.

As they investigate, the party will discover that these ghosts are infact local toughs who have dressed up and painted themselves phosphorescent cave lichen in order to shake down passers by. After giving them a thrashing and a Scooby-Doo unmasking, the party can retrieve the stolen goods and return to the inn for celebratory drinking. In the dead of night one of the party awakens to a shadowy figure looming at the foot of their bed, spectral face illuminated by the ghoul-light that flickers in the bowl of their pipe. Evidently the story of the party's antics has spread, and it appears one of the real ghosts of the Gallerwood wants a word.

Frauds and phantoms aside,  entirely possible for the party to stumble across the dungeon while exploring the surrounding swampland, only realizing it served as a bandit hideout after stumbling into the remnants of their camp. 

Setup: The ghost introduces himself as the late Cullen Carver, once founding and now final member of the Gallerwood outlaws. Cullen has an offer for the party, and is willing to guide them to the cache kept by his fellow bandits if they will perform for him a last request. As Cullen explains it, neither he nor the other outlaw spirits will be able to rest so long as there is no end to their tale, and there can be no end so long as the mystery of their hidden treasure remains unsolved in the common imagination.

Cullen is in high spirits despite being dead, so the party should expect some gallows humour as the hanged man leads them through the swamp's hazards, eventually arriving at the outlaw's secret base: The Tithing House, a long abandoned temple of Erathis concealed within the depths of the wilderness that's become infested with all sorts of mire creatures since the thieves met their end.

Challenges & Complications:

The Outlaws kept their treasure in the temple's crypts, and to access these the part are going to need to venture through the gauntlet of dark chambers and traps the bandits set up to keep eachother's hands out of the cookie jar. Cullen can help with some of these, but the whole point of the traps was to keep his fellow thieves honest. The only other way into the vault is through a heavily reinforced door, the key to which is currently in the possession of the bountyhunter who hung the Gallerwoods from trees in the firstplace.

While the party has the pick of spoils, Cullen points out a particular chest kept apart from the rest and calls upon them to fulfill their end of the bargain. This chest was Cullen's nestegg, put aside from numerous heists and robberies to be delivered to his wife and children in the event of his death. With no surviving highwaymen to carry out the promise Cullen's REAL unfinished business comes to light. The party can keep their word, or they can snipe the treasure for themselves, earning the spectre's undying enmity and curse to boot.

To get out of the the Tithing House the party will need to face off with a demon of avarice.. but not in the traditional form of bossfight. He'll approach just as they're leaving the dungeon, taking the form of a plump old man with a grandfatherly smile who wears the spotless robes of an Erathian friar despite the flooded cemetery in which they stand. He is all calm words and politeness, congratulating them on making off with such a fine haul and urging them to never mind that silly old ghost and his wishes, banishing Cullen beneath a nearby grave so that they can talk cordially. The Smiling Friar explains that he had a deal with the highwaymen; feeding off the greed of their crimes in exchange for concealing their hideaway and passage through the forest. There's no reason the party couldn't renew the deal, become the new band of legendary thieves, save that they'll have to forsake their ghostly guide and his last act of charity. Should they turn him down the Smiling Friar will call up the dead of the cemetery to slaughter them, clearing the way for the next band of ambitious treasurehunters.

Art 1 Art 2

[goldeneyedgirl]

Ficmas Day 11: Feral Jasper/Mary-Alice

Good evening ducklings! I've come down with a spectacular flu, so more notes tomorrow. I got a bunch of different requests for today, so I picked one at random and it was Feral Jasper/Mary-Alice.

But all the suggestions were fun and excellent, so I will be doing a few more snippet posts in January to get them all in <3

Anyway, it's time I got some sleep so I hope you enjoy this part!

As with most things, the time comes for the Cullens to move on. It’s been five years since they arrived in Pennsylvania, and anything longer will invite gossip about the young doctor and his family living in that big old house outside town. They already draw enough attention as it is.

So it’s time to go. Carlisle and Esme decide that privately, out of earshot of the others, before they make the announcement. It’s going to be more difficult this time, because it’s Jasper’s first move. This is the only home that he’s known since they found him, and leaving it will be a strain. They’ve watched him since he arrived here become stronger and more certain in his place amongst them. And this place, this house and the looming forest, played an important role in that. They only have so many properties with grounds this size, that are appropriate for a vampire to roam privately and safely.

But vampires are traditionally nomadic, and just because the scenery and set changes, doesn’t mean anything else will. Esme is convinced she can make Jasper understand that this is necessary and a good thing. Montana will be wonderful; the hunting there is good, and even though they don’t technically own a large parcel of land there, they have a great deal of privacy.

Jasper’s so reasonable, there’s no reason he wouldn’t understand.

None at all.

//

Mary-Alice is perched in the crook of a branch when Jasper shows up. She’s exactly where he left her, except for the fact that she ran into the second-closest town to hunt (Jasper had been unhappy when she admitted to hunting in the nearest town; the Cullens needed complete secrecy and Mary-Alice’s first few hunts made the Cullens worried and suspicious about nomads. She flat-out refused to give up human blood entirely, not when it made her stronger and sharper than animal blood, but she had quickly agreed that running a few more miles to the next appropriate town was not an issue.)

“Jasper.” She immediately abandons her task - weaving together stems and leaves into some kind of coronet. It’s a good task, one that keeps her mind still.

If she didn’t have something to occupy her in the hours Jasper was back with the Cullens, she’d go completely mad worrying that harm had fallen to him, even if she knows with conviction that Emmett would protect Jasper if anything happened. That’s reassuring in a foreign way - she’s never really had anyone to entrust with anything. She’s never really had anything valuable enough to need to protect it, aside from her own life.

(Maria would be laughing at her now. She spent decades trying to crush any sort of emotion or ambition from her people, to know that Mary-Alice spends most of her day on tenterhooks over the safety of her dearest… friend, that would make Maria howl with laughter. She always said that Mary-Alice was too sour and unpleasant to have a mate or a coven or even a friend. No one likes a girl who calculates the force, weight, and trajectory of their decapitation the first time they meet.)

He looks drawn and almost worried when he looks at her, but there’s a softening around his eyes when he spots her - he has to remind himself to relax so often, that she can almost spot the moments he tells himself to calm down.

But Jasper still looking solemn the she lands on the boulder next to him, to do her usual check of his state - he’s washed, his clothing is neat and clean, and his eyes are bright. No changes in the last few hours, which is good. That’s what she wants.

“Mary-Alice.” He reaches out and takes her hand, squeezing it.

They haven’t really talked about the kiss on the cheek. He had caught her by surprise, do that, and she didn’t entirely understand what he meant by that. He’d told her something about saving him, but he was running out of words when he explained, so she didn’t push. But since then, he touches her more often. And yes, she has some rather… feline tendencies as far as curling up against him when they’re alone. Emmett Cullen had laughed at her and asked if she was going to start purring the singular time he’d caught her curling up half on Jasper’s lap. But the touching that Jasper has started doing is something very, very different. He’s holding her hand a lot, touching her hair and her face which makes her edgy, and he’s holding her more, especially before he leaves.

“Something’s wrong,” she says in that same flat voice she greeted him with.

“The Cullens are leaving Pennsylvania.” The strain on his face is suddenly evident and that’s bad. That’s when he starts to struggle the most, with his weakness, his speech, his physical coordination. He’s made amazing strides over the last year, but there is always regression when he’s upset - like when Rosalie Cullen tried to teach him to drive.

“Where are they going?” This isn’t unexpected. It is obvious that they couldn’t maintain a permanent residence in a town this small, especially if Carlisle Cullen was posing as a human. She’s seen little flashes of things, but nothing concrete - mentioning it to Jasper would have been pointless and distressing.

“Montana. Friday. We leave for Montana on Friday.” He’s tugged free of her now, and is pacing. “We’ve driving to Montana, we have to pack the house.” Oh, very distressed - his speech is stilted and repetitive.

“Calm.” She tries to make her voice gentle but she doesn’t think it works very well because he doesn’t even look at her. “Everything will be fine, Jasper.”

“I won’t go without you.” He stops then and has the most stubborn look she’s ever seen on his face. It’s almost cute, the indignant expression and the way he looks directly at her. “I won’t leave you behind.”

She gives him a small smile. “Unless you tell me to go, I’ll follow you wherever you go,” she replies and his stance softens slightly. “Do they still think that I’m a delusion?”

Jasper scowls. A yes, then.

“I wouldn’t like travelling in a vehicle anyway.” She can’t imagine how many things this family has that driving is a necessity. So far, she’s calculated that Jasper has at least twelve sets of clothing, which would be difficult to carry long-term. And that doesn’t even consider any of the books that Jasper has mentioned are in the house. It’s only been two months since Jasper presented her with the little oilskin bag to carry her ‘things’ (a dried flower, a wooden comb, a spare dress) so that she didn’t have to discard anything that wasn’t safe in her pocket. “I’ll run.”

Jasper shakes his head, and there’s a puff of frustration and worry that brushes against her for a split second.

“I could beat the Cullens there,” Mary-Alice reminds him, trying to be reassuring. She’s not very good at it.

“What if you run into trouble?” Jasper is frowning.

“I am trouble.” She doesn’t think that he gets it, honestly. That anyone who runs into her won’t walk away if they decide to pick a fight.

Jasper closes his eyes. “Will you meet them?” He finally asks.

Silence.

She looks into the future, to see what would happen so close to the Cullens move. And the vision flows so easily, it’s practically set in stone.

Carlisle and Esme horrified. Rosalie angry. Edward stoic. Emmett trying desperately to mediate. Montana is cancelled. They’re going to Vermont before settling in somewhere with snow; there are five other vampires there, solemn when the Cullens arrive. They’re trying to lose her, trying to hide Jasper from her, and he’s not recovered enough to be able to stand his ground. Instead, she’s left weaving her way through the country to try and find him again.

“They will spook if I approach them now.”

He sighs and looks down. “I worry about you,” he says simply, and Mary-Alice doesn’t have any idea how to reply to that.

[megapatty2006]

So I had kinda a strange AU idea......what if Charlie wasn't raised by lucifer & Lilith?....what If Lilith left MUCH earlier, leaving Lucifer with a only couple month year old baby to take care of....what if Lucifer just couldn't handle it and was racked up in grief....and then...someone offered to raise Charlie for awhile..."n-not forever" he swore...what if...

"MAMMON RAISED CHARLIE?"

Now you might be asking, why the hell would Mammon even bother? Well... because PROFIT. If Mammon had complete custody of Charlie, who KNOWS what his greedy fatass would do with her likelyness?! However this is how I think it would all turn out.

A couple months after Charlie is born, Lilith, for whatever reason, abandons Charlie and Lucifer to go sipping cocktails on the beaches of Eden in Heaven or something.

Lucifer is now in massive depression and is literally unable to take care of Charlie and be a father... he needs some time to grieve....so...who's his options?

The other Sins aren't really good options to watch over his daughter with examples being that Beezlebub is too busy partying to watch over a kid and Asmodeus is the sin of Lust......enough said with that. But the only sin who actually WANTED Charlie was Mammon.

Not to be some great uncle, oh no, it's all so that he can use Charlie as his brand baby and make him WAY more dough than Fizz would have EVER. (I'm not sure if Charlie is older than fizz or not but for the sake of this I'm gonna assume yes)

So let's say Mammon is able to convince Lucifer to let him "watch over" Charlie for awhile...however he's able to make Lucifer unknowingly sign a contract with Mammon for him to use Charlie's likeness in ANYTHING and have her in his care for....lets say around 200 years? Lucifer completely just tired and wanting Charlie and Mammon out of his hair, signs the contract and now Charlie is under Mammons care.

After this, Lucifer would go into hiding like he did in Canon for AWHILE, and as soon as Charlie could speak, Mammon IMEDIATELY starts using her in commercials, products, clothes etc. Charlie, in this Au, would be a lot more depressed but would still wants to make Mammon happy & proud, he's her only parental figure afterall.

And for DECADES she would be subjugated to all of this unwanted attention by the people of hell. Fizz would probably never become Mammons star as he already has Charlie and Fizz would also probably never meet Asmodeus, but maybe things could've worked out between him and Blitzo, and Fizz would maybe still have his limbs, Charlie on the other hand is downright MISRABLE with Mammon and sucked dry like Fizz was in Cannon.

But would she have ever left Mammon? Honestly tough answer, if Lucifer ever came to his sense and visited Charlie and realized what he had done...would Charlie even care? Would Charlie even love Lucifer?

He did leave her with MAMMON of all people. And even when the contract eventually ends, why would she go back to the person that abandoned her!?

The only one who Charlie would really have would be Ozzie but I think Charlie herself would be FAR from the same person she usually is, she would even probably pick up toxic traits from Mammon and have a grudge against Lucifer and her mother, heck maybe Charlie would end up being Mammons secretary if she never did well as a star...who knows...but anyways that was my AU idea.

THANK YOU FOR READING

[buccini555]

𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐦𝐚 𝐒𝐡𝐮𝐣𝐢 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐊𝐚𝐳𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐚 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐲𝐚 ♡

≡ You decide to go on a date with Hanma, but you get a surprise at the end of the night.

⌕ x r e a d e r !

★ 𝑭𝒕. Hanma Shuji and Kazutora Hanemiya

⚠︎!! alcoholic drinks (vodka), drunkenness, cigarettes, mention of s♡x and Infidelity(?)

That night Hanma had asked you out on a date, obviously, you can't let surprised by the boy proposal, as Shuji doesn't usually like romance, but out of exception, he made the decision to indulge in some kind of cheap romance.

Almost at dawn, Hanma went to pick you up at your house, as soon as you heard the insistent knocking on the door, you realized that he had arrived.

He hugged you, gently kissing your neck and holding tight to your waist.

— I want to take you somewhere fun, hmm?

He whispered with a slow breath, leaving you with a slight shiver, soon, you agreed to go to the unknown place, so, you walked a few blocks away from your house, arriving at an empty street full of alleys, you didn't understand where Hanma wanted to arrive, but he just kept walking through the dark streets holding the tattooed man's hand, when you least expected it, Hanma pulled you into one of the alleys, pinning you against the wall and covering your mouth gently.

— The place I intend to take you is a secret, so it's better to forget that we were ever here, understand, my baby?

You just nodded, making the taller one let go of you, walking back, this time in that unhealthy and even more dimly lit alley, you reached a small garage, quickly, Hanma opened the door, making you enter with even more quickly, the place was empty but at least there were some points of light in it, Hanma took some bottles that were on top of the counter and offered you that drink that seemed to be there for decades, however, you did not refuse to take a sip, pure vodka and Hanma wasn't worried about getting drunk.

After taking a few more sips, Hanma sat on the couch, later making you sit on his lap, between puffs on cigarettes and sips of drink, he kept giving you breathtaking kisses, subtly pressing your body against his lap, making you feel how much he wanted you at that moment, it was undeniable that Hanma was already getting completely stoned and more and more excited for you, seeing those almond eyes begging for at least a drop of pleasure, you finally made the decision to give for Hanma what he wanted so much before he fell from so much drunkenness.

As soon as they "finished" the act, Hanma could not even stand to remain seated, for that reason, you made him lie down, helping him to get dressed, together also putting his clothes back and while gently caressing the boy's bleached hair unconscious after three full bottles of vodka, you felt a strange presence.

The silence of the place didn't let lie that the environment was completely empty, or at least, that's what you wanted to believe at the time, you tried to wake up Hanma, but clearly the amount of alcohol he had ingested would make him sleep until the next morning, once again, suddenly, you heard something, a tin can noise or something, and in an act of extreme courage, you asked if there was anyone in the middle of that totally abandoned place, without waiting for an answer, you calmed down, until from afar, at the end of the hall, you can clearly hear a laugh, fear took over your body, but you just tried to ignore it, until, from the same hall, someone appeared.

Kazutora Hanemiya, a member of the same gang as Hanma, seeing that boy looking at you, you just remained silent.

— Hey, don't worry, I would never hurt someone as beautiful as you.

You continued in silence, immediately recognizing Kazutora, you had never spoken before but knew each other by sight.

— You were here all the time?

You questioned the boy, of course, at that moment you only thought about the fact that Kazutora saw you having sex with Hanma.

— Let's just say I've been inside here enough to see you...

He responded immediately, letting out a wry laugh as he looked at you.

— I'm leaving...

You got up, even worried about an unconscious Hanma, you knew he knew how to take care of himself better than you.

— Do you really think I'm going to let you go off these dangerous streets alone? What do you have in that head?

Hanemiya approached you, he clearly wouldn't allow you to walk alone at that early hour.

— Did this son of a bitch drink himself out and leave his hottie girlfriend alone?

— It seems so.

— ... Can I make you company?

You fell silent again, still embarrassed by the situation, but since you were there, deep down you didn't want to miss out on Kazutora's presence.

— M-may.

— Still ashamed?

He moved even closer to you, gently cupping your face and making you look at him.

— It's not alright.

— You have such a pretty mouth, sweetie, I saw you know how to use it well.

— Wh-what?”

— Don't be disingenuous, Baby...

— I'm not!

— Not what I saw with my beautiful eyes.

You walked away from Kazutora, making him surprised by your attitude.

— You should stop watching people!

— Hmm? What a lack of education, you who invaded my space.

— I'm so sorry...

— Are you sorry?

— Yes, I would never know this place belongs to you.

— I'll forgive you…if you do me a favor.

— What do you want?

— Don't you find me more attractive than he is?

- No! Obviously not!

— Don't lie to me, pretty.

Of course, you wouldn't assume that you strangely found Kazutora attractive, until the two of you ended up getting even closer, you didn't think twice about giving yourself away at that moment when Kazutora stole a kiss from you.

— Gonna give me what I want, little bitch?

— I-I will

— You sure baby?

— ... I'm sure.

The previously unknown gave you another kiss, this time, you ended up reciprocating it, and then, he held you by the waist with one hand and with the other lightly pulled your hair, you no longer cared about Hanma at that moment, you just continued to kiss Kazutora as if there was no other chance.

— Fuck me the way I saw you fuck with Hanma, baby.

He said in a low tone, placing you on top of a small bench, for a moment, you thought about denying the invitation, but the way he touched you made you change your mind, finally, you ended up giving in to Kazutora's wishes.

[mysticstarlightduck]

Dialogue Tag!

Thanks for the tag, @illarian-rambling!!!!

I'll go with a snippet that contains one my fave dialogues from What Lurks In The Hollow I've ever written, for this one!

And so, when that first week came to an end, after Zach appearing at their lakehouse every day, this one time, Dylan actually managed to be a bit more civil to the boy, though his annoyance was still palpable. He'd greeted him with a mumbled 'hi, I guess' after Zach had come barelling into the house from the front door, neither of them really acknowledging each other past that.

Zach had plopped himself on that same chair across from Amy, immediatelly already talking about some topic that Dylan had no clue about, so it sounded like gibberish. The teen had even poured himself some milk and cereal after Amy had insisted.

"We're going to the bigger lake today," Amy told Dylan, excited, practically inhaling her own breakfast as if to make the time pass faster, "You know the one, where there's that abandoned lumberyard."

Dylan leaned on the kitchen counter, scrolling through tabs of his phone with rapt attention. The only sign he even heard her is the grumbled 'mhm' he lets out in agreement and a bored flicker of his eyebrows.

For some reason, Zach thought that it was a good opportunity to chime in, though Amy kept gesturing for him to cut it out before he even started. He chucled, tilted his neck back so he was looking at Dylan - but upside down - and said, "You know, you're far too young to be this angry. I'm starting to believe you're afraid of fun, big guy." He smirked, messy locks of dark hair cascading around his foundation white skin, as he waited for a response.

Dylan scoffed, not looking up from his phone, "It's that I have something called bills to pay, for which I need to find another thing called a job. Not that you would know. But responsibility matters more than a stupid lake."

On the other side of the table, Amy was still munching on her cereal, though now much slower now that her brother's tone had caught her attention and made her invested in the conversation. She looked like a middle aged woman watching a telenovela.

"Or maybe you'll work yourself into an early grave in just a few decades and let your managers go on a bunch of cruises with the money your work earned them," Zach was still leaning back on the chair, back bent, head upside down, lazily challenging the older young man's grumpiness, while gesturing around erratically, "You know that the hustle culture is just a big scheme to get us to follow ye old rat maze while the big dudes in the suits get all the fun."

Her twirled a curl of his own hair around his fingertip, annoyed, "There's also another, even quicker way to die known as starvation. I'd rather take the slower route and get some extra decades rather than just weeks," Dylan said, tone still dry, pushing himself off the counter with a single shove, pocketing his phone and reaching for his half empty coffee cup, drinking it in one go before turning to the door, "I'm going out. Again. See if anyone in this shithole is actually hiring."

He sighed, picked up his leather jacket from one of the chairs, slipping it over his shoulders with ease. Amy was almost done with her breakfast as he passed her by, ruffling her hair while pointedly avoiding even looking in the other boy's direction, "You know the drill, if anything goes wrong -"

Amy finished off his sentence before he could blink, "…I call you immediatelly. Yep. I know." She nodded, and earned a small, quick smile and a nod before he marched out of the room, into the foyer and then out of the house.

Only then she turned to Zach, her eyes wide with a mix of annoyance, pride and sheer amusement, "Why do you keep doing that?"

Zach crossed his arms over his chest, smile mischievous, "Doing what?" He asked, his tone so innocent it would have fooled anyone who hadn't witnessed the interaction that had just taken place.

She rolled her eyes, but her lips quirked up with amusement as she pointed at Zach with her now-empty spoon, "Oh, don't play dumb. You know exactly what I mean, young man." Amy said, her tone just as mischievous, before she grew a tiny bit more serious, "Annoying him. He'll never like you if you keep making him upset."

Zach shrugged it off with a dismissive wave, "Eh, that dude is too uptight for his own good. I'm doing him a favor. If he learns how to lighten up, me and him might actually be friends one day," He laughed, genuine as he stood up from the table and extended his gloved hand to help Amy do the same, "Until then, I'll keep doing my duty as the local crazy guy and as your friend, of being his little push towards the path of being not-so-angry-all-the-damn-time."

Amy shook her head. Now she was laughing too, "I think you're just being a petty little goblin who wants to see the world burn. And hey, in all honesty? I respect it." She takes his hand and stands up, leaving her bowl and spoon on the sink.

Zach smirked, already making his way to the door, "That is also true." He turned on his heels, gesturing with his head, clearly still joking, "Let's go, or the lake might get bored and leave, who knows?"

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[journey-to-the-attic]

3rd anni req 4: [RPG AU] solomon / past life

ao3 link

note: i really enjoyed writing this one! i've been meaning to do more for this au for ages, it's just such a fun concept to work with, but i just never get around to it

brief context if needed: fantasy rpg au setting, solomon is a reincarnation of the evil sorcerer solomon who was trying to evade persecution, and in his new life he is best friends and travelling companions with young hero ik, and here he finds out the truth about himself

∎ ∎ ∎ ∎ ∎

This place feels more like a mausoleum than a house.

The reports say that the owner died decades ago, and that the house has lain undisturbed ever since - up until recently. That isn’t the story Solomon’s seeing here, though.

It’s dusty, but it doesn’t feel like a place that’s been abandoned for eighty years. Try five, maybe.

He brushes a finger through a thick layer of dust on a shelf. These odd contraptions littered around the place - cogs and glassware with no rhyme or reason - aren’t ancient by any stretch of the imagination. He picks up something that resembles a wind-up toy and turns the key. The wheels still spin smoothly.

Welcome home.

He jumps. “...IK?”

No response. He listens hard - he can hear footsteps coming from upstairs. But that voice came from just behind him - surely she can’t move that quickly?

“That wasn’t funny,” He calls, attempting bravado.

Really? I thought it was hilarious.

He manages not to jump this time. He swings around and presses his back to the wall, hand falling to the knife at his hip.

Hey, there’s no need for that, says the strange voice, amused. I’m a friend.

“A friend,” He repeats warily.

Quite an intimate friend, agrees the voice, and he hears the groan of wood from just around the corner. Come with me. I have something to show you.

Don’t bother, it adds as he makes for the hallway, to call IK down to join him. There’s nothing here worth the little girl’s attention.

“Don’t call her that,” He grunts with a spark of indignation. “And—”

I daresay what you’ll find would only hurt the youngster, adds the voice, and at this he pauses.

“...fine.” His mouth feels dry - he hears the irregular pattern of his own breathing as if from miles away. “What do you want to show me?”

Follow me, croons the voice, and something shimmers at him from around the corner.

Let me show you something remarkable, it tells him. The brightest mind in any generation. The most prolific mass murderer this land has ever seen. There’s plenty to learn.

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” He growls. “But I don’t want any part in it.”

And yet he finds himself following the voice anyway.

Aren���t you just a little curious?

Wouldn’t you like to just take a little peek?

So close now. What a shame it would be to miss out.

And what a shame it would be to not know more. How close-minded!

Sharp pain lances through his temples - he stumbles, catching himself on a red velvet curtain, gripping the side of his head with a groan. “What— what are you playing at?!”

Side effects. Don’t mind those.

“I…” He can hear colours, taste sounds - feel as he’s never felt before, like millions of icy needles drawing fire from his skin. “...this…”

Why don’t you take a look behind the curtain? The voice whispers.

His mind feels in free-fall - he shakes his head blindly, but he finds himself reaching forward. He seizes a fistful of cold velvet and pulls.

Everything around him seems to shrink to a point. His own pale face stares back at him through the mirror.

“Is this some sort of joke?” He mutters.

His reflection grins back at him. “Welcome home, Solomon. It took you long enough.”

“What…” He tries to step back, but his feet feel anchored to the ground. “...I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t! Poor, gullible human that you are.” Mirror-Him laughs. “How cute. Did you have fun living with the mundane, at least?”

He tries to find words, but the reflection doesn’t wait for an answer. “I suppose I don’t need you to tell me. I’ll know soon enough. Now, come here. It’ll all make sense in a moment.”

He doesn’t move. His reflection frowns at him.

“Slow on the uptake, aren’t you?” Mirror-Solomon presses a hand against the glass. “It’s me - I’m you. I’m the part of us that had to die so that you could walk free. Me and you - two pieces of a glorious arcane puzzle.”

He feels his own hand moving to meet his reflection, and fights to keep it still. “That’s ridiculous. I’m not—”

“Not a sorcerer?” Mirror-Him sighs. “I’ve got news for you, cupcake. You wouldn’t be able to see me if you did.”

His head thumps. He says again, lost, “I don’t understand.”

His reflection’s expression softens a little. “I told you, didn’t you? We are the brightest mind any generation has ever seen. Before I died, you prised secrets of life straight from time’s mouth. We unlocked it together - in death, you would be reborn.”

“And when we reunite, I will be whole,” He recites, then claps a hand to his mouth. He doesn’t know where the words have resurfaced from.

His reflection grins at him. “Now you’re getting it. Come on, Solomon. Set us free.”

I know you.

I’ve felt the weight of your sins everywhere I’ve gone. Every place you’ve touched, people have died. Every time I bring your face somewhere new, it’s as if the land itself remembers what you’ve done. I hated it.

Now I understand. I feel it now - your hatred. My anger.

IK is upstairs. I can’t let you hurt her.

“Worried, are you?” His reflection leans closer, dropping his voice to a whisper. “I’ve got a secret to tell you. Once you remember everything, you won’t care.”

That’s exactly what I’m afraid of, he thinks, and the pain in his head suddenly intensifies. It’s all he can do to keep himself from crying out.

“You’ve been waiting for me - you just didn’t know it.” Mirror-Him doesn’t sound surprised by his disobedience. Perhaps that’s the worst part.

A thought, a foreign memory - he’d known this would happen, and that he wouldn’t be able to resist it. He’s a weak-willed mortal, after all.

He moves before he can stop himself. His hand meets the reflection - the cold of the glass cuts into him, and in one silent instant, everything ends. And everything begins.

He feels his legs collapse beneath him - he lands against the wall with a cough, heaving for air as if he hasn’t tasted it in years. Indeed, half his soul has starved in that mirror for the past five years.

Solomon stares down at his hands and sees blood. His fingertips buzz - warm sparks dance across his palms, as if the magic itself rejoices to be reunited with his mortal body. He feels himself smile.

He stands up. His reflection moves with him now. To be honest, part of him had been worried the mirror wouldn’t hold up for long enough - but he hadn’t exactly had time to seek a crystal looking-glass. Oh, that’s new. I remember…

“Oh, how I’ve missed you,” He says to himself.

He imagines this is how the man in the desert must feel - who finally finds water after hours in the scorching heat. How clever he is - a lesser being wouldn’t be able to cope with even a fraction of this operation.

His two sets of memories melt into each other easily. Like simply adding water to a jug. And—

“Solomon? I think we should get out of here.”

He whips around, and immediately knows he’s made a mistake. IK blinks at him from the end of the hallway, clearly unnerved by how quickly he reacted.

“...I think we’re dealing with magic scraps here,” She says after a moment, still eyeing him warily. “Some kind of crazy wizard or something. We need to get someone who knows about that kind of thing to look at it.”

“Crazy wizard?” He repeats almost incredulously. He’s blinded fools for lesser insults.

“I’ve never seen some of the stuff upstairs.” She grimaces. “The shadows were all moving - I swear one of them had teeth.”

Her left arm is dangling uselessly at her side, and he suddenly registers the dark red stains on her sleeves. He feels a familiar rush of worry, and hurries forward without thinking.

“You got bitten?” He reaches forward to inspect the wound, then thinks better of touching it just yet. “Are you alright? How do you feel?”

“Just stings like hell. I’ll probably live.” She attempts to make a thumbs up with the injured arm, then sucks in a breath and shakes her head. “...I’ll ask Luke to look at it later. We should really get going - I don’t think it’s safe here.”

He thinks about telling her that this house is under his control - that the shadows she saw were likely the remnants of failed experiments, that they’re some botched form of life that didn’t know how else to play. He thinks about telling her that that bite might well have been venomous, and that only he knows how to prevent the toxins from rotting her arm from the inside out.

He thinks about telling her that it’s all been for nothing - all the times she’s had to defend him from mobs, everyone from royal guards to fruit vendors, who’d seen him for what he was and rightfully spat at his feet. He thinks of telling her that there’s no need to shield him like this as they leave the house.

He thinks about telling that he knows fifty ways to kill her right there without leaving a trace, and hundreds more that would leave some far worse than a corpse.

But he doesn’t. He lets IK take his hand and lead him down the hill.

He can’t seem to smile now. His hands are clean, and yet he tastes iron each time he tries to speak.

What happened? What happened, Solomon? How did your master plan go wrong?

There was one contingency he didn’t plan for. He’d known he wouldn’t have the power to reject his old self - but somehow missed that, equally, he couldn’t simply abandon his new life, either.

Solomon realises now that his plan had been spoiled from the moment IK helped him out of that pit. The sorcerer, in all his wisdom, had failed to consider this - that he could love and be loved in that next life.

It feels as if the earth should swallow him whole, and yet nothing seems to have changed. The local lord greets him cheerfully when he rides past on a hunting expedition. He remembers poisoning that boy’s father.

New knowledge supplanted by the old, and memories from both past and future in tandem. What could he possibly do now?

[thevampirelevi]

Adventureland | Part II

Masterlist

"Da Vinci's Dream." (part 2/7)

cw: vampire!eddie x fem!reader, mentions of grief, loneliness

wc: 2.8k+

You had not the faintest idea that you were being followed. Not that you should, given your humanly lack of any survival instincts whatsoever. Eddie really couldn’t fathom one good reason why a girl would travel into an abandoned theme park alone, let alone at night.

Sure, when he first picked up on your scent, the sun had technically not exited stage left yet, but still. Though to your credit, you hadn’t actually been the first to come here - only the first to do so in the late hours of the evening, not to mention the first in so long. Has no one warned you to stay away? Any other visitor wouldn’t have much of a story to tell, but they should at least remember ‘Adventureland’ being the last thing they saw before everything faded to black. Given the fact that the numbers in loiterers were dwindling ever since Eddie first made a home here, he’d considered it message received. Eddie’s methods as of late were calculated and meticulous, and definitely far less fatal than his fledgling days. They also served a secondary purpose now, and that was keeping the at least somewhat abandoned Adventureland, well, abandoned.

Yet it seemed that you were very steadfast on getting in the way of that. Eddie pondered making a run for the breaker box, already having memorized its location just outside the ‘Tunnel of Love,’ but there was a familiar light to your eyes that had him second guessing whether or not you were actually new to this neck of the woods. His sudden and painstaking hunger also had him immersed in your every move at the moment, so one could say that he felt he was almost owed a second look at you. Just a peek, nothing more.

You carefully stepped over the fissures in the pathway where weeds were sprouting through, polyester sleeves stretched over your knuckles and hugging your chest.

Now you were walking somewhat aimlessly, it only becoming clearer and clearer that your beloved memories were merely just something of the past. Seeing Adventureland in its neglected state was beginning to eat away at you, in a similar fashion to how weather ate away at seemingly any and everything it could within fairgrounds, ironically starting with what you made out to be now barren concession stands. They seemed to have the worst of it. Instead of smelling the rich sugar and old oil of fried dough, you had to turn your nose away from the musty smell of mold, mildew, and wood rot.

You were just starting to come around to the idea of admitting defeat when a wind chime-like sound made you look toward the opposite way you’d been walking down a crossroad. As soon as you saw the swings, a swarm of memories invaded your inner thoughts instantaneously.

It was your favorite ride as a kid, and pretty much the only ride your mother wouldn’t mind spending two, three tickets on in just a day. It overlooked ‘Lover’s Lake,’ though this side of it was now more comparable to a marsh. The paint on the swaying seats now chipping to reveal the same metal as the handlebars and chains holding the swings to the ceiling of the carousel, but it was in surprisingly good condition in contrast to any other rollercoaster you’d seen in here so far. It was almost like being there a decade ago all over again.

You’d finally been tall enough to ride this one. Never being a fan of heights, your mother kept her promise of holding your hand from her own seat the entire time, the momentum pushing you both to and fro out of sync with all of the other passengers and making you knock into each other - erupting bouts of giggles from the pair of you. Watching the reflection of the summer sunset on the ripples of the lake from way above was something special. Later on there had been time for just one more ride before the park closed, and the carousel now being fully lit up like a Christmas tree made you pull your mother’s arm all the way back to the line. You both spread your arms out like wings instead of holding hands that time, imagining you were flying.

The lonesome lurching of your heart suddenly pulled you away from your thoughts as you somberly looked onward. Coming here on Valentine’s Day of all days, especially having brought no one with you (having nobody to bring, actually) was now undeniably a mistake. Your face was so cold that you didn’t even feel the tears fall, so dark that you also didn’t notice your crying distorting your vision. You whipped around and turned on your heel so fast you’d almost lost your footing…

If not for two large hands bracing your shoulders as you knocked into something very statue-like.

Those hands were so cold, so unmoving, that it hadn’t fully registered to you that you had bumped into another person until your eyes adjusted to see two large eyes staring back at you.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───── ⋆⋅˚ʚ♡ɞ˚⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Almost as if a reflection in one another’s mirror, you both jumped back with widened eyes, startled.

Several literal beats passed before Eddie could remember how to make the sounds escape his mouth, it’d been so long since he’d last spoken.

“Sorry,” he started, trying to focus more on the rasp of his own voice than the drumming of your quickening heart. “Didn’t mean to scare you…”

“S’okay, you looked equally scared yourself,” you sniffled, offering a weak smile. Clearly you didn’t spend enough time in the big city to undo the conditioning of being a waitress with ready and chipper responses, and to know not to talk to strangers.

“People don’t really come here anymore,” said the man. When you’d first, literally, run into him there was something very youthful about his eyes from what you could make out in the dark. However now upon hearing his voice, the slight ruggedness of it, he seemed much older. It almost sounded like he’d just come back from a smoke.

At the thought of that, you honestly could use one yourself right about now to calm your nerves upon remembering that you were now in this abandoned theme park, at night, with no one or nothing to protect you, now engaging in chit chat with this strange (and strangely good looking) man.

Almost as if sensing your unease, the stranger took a few steps away from you, luckily putting himself under direct moonlight. It must have been a full moon tonight, this giving you more of a view of nearly all of his features even from where he stood towering over you.

His skin pale and hiding the faintest blush across his cheekbones, maybe from the cold or perhaps because he was just as flustered as you. The softness of his eyes returning made you feel less like you were transfixed in conversation with a complete and total stranger, the dark curls cascading onto his brow adding to the depth of his eyes. Now it was starting to feel more like a meet-cute.

“Are you lost-”

“Do I know you-”

Both of your words come out crashing together. You wipe whatever tears remaining with the sleeve of your sweater jacket, feeling slightly shy.

“Sorry, it’s just that you look kind of familiar,” you finish. “But maybe that’s just me hoping for a familiar face, I mean, I might be kind of lost..”

At your words he cracks a smile, dimples piercing through his alabaster skin and making the corners of his eyes slightly wrinkle. This immediately puts you at ease in a way you didn’t anticipate.

“Yeah I mean, no offense, but I kinda figured you didn’t intend on exploring Hawkins’ biggest junkyard all by your lonesome.” He folds his arms across his chest, looking you up and down. He heard your heart flutter as he surveyed you. “Lucky for you, I’m one hell of a tour guide. Name’s Eddie.”

Eddie extends his ring-clad right hand to you.

“Y/N.”

Both the coolness of the metal and his skin make you jolt for the second time since meeting. He quickly drops your hand and clears his throat.

“So, where were you headed?”

It’s your turn to blush again this time, “Oh- I meant to come here, it’s just…Not what I was expecting, I guess,” you clarify. “It’s only been a year since I was here last, I wasn’t expecting it to be…”

“Abandoned?” Eddie chimes in. So the rumors hadn’t in fact reached your ears yet.

“Yeah,” you let out a shaky laugh, looking around the both of you. “It’s seeming more like ‘land’ than ‘adventure’ this time around.”

He laughs again, a warm sound. “Well, sorry to disappoint. Things have changed a lot ‘round here.”

“Yeah?” you urge him to continue.

He looks at the ground suddenly, “Yeah, it’s a long story…Hey are you staying in town? I could help you home, if you want.”

You don’t understand why it seems that he’s trying to change the subject suddenly, but honestly it makes you even more curious.

“I have time,” you smile. “I traveled all the way here, might as well learn who let the place go.”

Eddie’s eyes meet yours finally, pondering briefly before he speaks again, “Alright, I guess I did sign myself up for being a tour guide.”

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───── ⋆⋅˚ʚ♡ɞ˚⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Eddie was having a hard time keeping to a human’s pace so unexpectedly, being much more used to his usual gait. Furthermore, the new revelations you were making had you walking even slower as you remained deep in thought the more that he shared.

And what he did tell you still wasn’t the whole story, either.

“A record breaking earthquake?” You echo his words from earlier.

Eddie nods his head, “This town’s been through a lot this past year you could say, still trying to recover. Lots of things had to be rebuilt and people lost their houses so, this side of the tracks is pretty much forgotten about.”

“That’s so sad,” you say softly, thinking aloud.

“Eh, I’m sure they’ll get around to it eventually, power’s still on after all. We’re not completely forsaken yet.”

You stop walking, “The power’s still on?”

“Yeah, I come here often. A lot of these rides can still be booted up,” he notices immediately how your heart picks up a different tune, in addition he could practically smell what he could only assume was excitement though it seems you were trying to hide it. “As long as you have the key that is. Which I do…What was that ride you were looking at? Da Vinci’s Dream?”

You nod your head, suddenly more enthused, “It was my favorite when I used to come here as a kid.”

“It’s one of the safe ones, I could probably ride it with you if you’re interested?”

Eddie can tell you can no longer contain your newfound excitement.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───── ⋆⋅˚ʚ♡ɞ˚⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

You had picked out your seat on the outer edge of the circle of swings, feet rocking above the ground as you waited while Eddie located the power boxes to Adventureland.

He made good time, as not long after you’d gotten settled in your seat, all of the lights around you flickered to life and the calliope began playing its familiar tune without missing a single note as if waiting to serenade you once again after all of these years.

You looked around you in amazement, in awe of how well the fluorescence of the butterscotch haze spilling all around you hid the uninhibited nature of Adventureland and added a mellowness that was definitely not there a half hour ago.

As you’re taking it all in, you feel the row of chairs being pushed forward ever so slightly. There now making his way through the gate is your newfangled friend, light dancing in his eyes as he excitedly strides to the swing adjacent to yours, gracefully ducking the others as he does so. Just as the ride begins to lift, he clammers in his seat in a manner too fast for your eyes to follow. That contagious smile of his eclipses his face once again as he holds up his hands, what looks to be a ‘Midland Ready Rescue’ radio in one and a thumbs up in the other.

“That old speaker up there doesn’t work but I figured we still needed some music,” he proclaims, not even slightly out of breath. “Stations never play any thrash but, it’ll do.”

Just as he gives the handheld to you, the ride begins to pick up speed as you ascend higher and higher off the ground. You fiddle around with the buttons briefly before finally picking up a signal that doesn’t feed you static. You keep a firm grip on the device in your dominant hand as you close your eyes and stretch out those wings you haven’t used in so long.

Eddie’s eyes were on you the whole time, watching with wonder as something pure and childlike broke out of you, almost making him think one of the cherubs on the plafond above had come to life and taken your place. When the journey seemed to slow, you let your eyes open and finally brought your arms down, but the ride only continued backwards.

Eddie could hear you laughing before the sound left your lips. It was interesting, he’d never had the pleasure of witnessing that ever before.

He couldn’t help joining in with you, thankful to both whom or whatever was still keeping the currents flowing to ‘Forgotten-Land’ and also his quick witted idea of giving you the experience of having what was left of the amusement park all to yourself.

You keep the Ready-Rescue clutched to your belly, slightly muffling a recognizable (at least to you) Crowded House song. Da Vinci’s dream was ending as the coaster made its final merry-go-round.

You dare a glance to the man next to you, finding that he was already looking your way with watchful doe eyes.

You wait for a pause in the lyrics, “Thank you,” you breathed. Eddie’s smile deepens in return. “So much.”

The scuffed soles of his maybe-once-white Reeboks reach the ground before your feet did, him swiftly lifting the safety bar of his swing and exiting the ride. He holds out one fair hand to help you off.

The electricity reverberating between your palms didn’t shock you, but it sent many a chill down your spine and had you feeling as if you’d shuffled across a carpet charged with static friction while you held his hand longer than the first time, trying to find your balance on tingling feet.

“Are you cold Eddie??” you practically yelped.

He drops your hand in the same manner as before, clasping his rings together and bringing his fists to his flushed lips, huffing a cloud of air over them. You watch this action too closely. “Sorry, I’m very anemic,” he chuckles, “Blood doesn’t circulate very well.”

Eddie leans over the waiting area railing and turns the key to the killswitch, darkening the square where the ride was held. You’re walking ahead of him. You collapse on a nearby bench, killing the radio and turning your knees in his direction, lost in thought as your eyes trail his approaching silhouette.

Once he reaches you, your mind has finally decided that you do recognize him.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───── ⋆⋅˚ʚ♡ɞ˚⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

“You were at my mother’s funeral,” you had announced.

Eddie stilled for a moment before his features softened as he took a cautious seat next to you, but feeling an island away.

You continued, “It was this time last year. Practically every student she’s ever had showed up. Were you one of them, Eddie?”

Realization flashes across his face in remembrance, “Mrs.L/N..Of course,” his words were as soft as his expression, almost whispering. “She was my art teacher.”

You nodded, sighing. “Hawkins Elementary.”

“I’m sorry,” Eddie offered earnestly. He paused, tiptoeing the topic, “D’you miss her? Is that…Is that why you were crying earlier..?”

You nodded your head silently, looking at a moth trapped in a flickering street lamp a few feet away. Eddie took both of your hands in his, forgetting once again just how close he couldn’t be to you. You didn’t mind. You let your eyes meet his, your icy exterior melting under his warm gaze except for in the spot where his fingertip drew circles into your palm, iron rings conducting the feeling.

His hair was longer, only further deepening the depth of the shadows under his eyes - also a new feature since the last time you briefly saw him - coal colored ringlets framing his angel face. What was the same; the black he was dressed in top to bottom apart from his shoes both then at the funeral and then again sitting next to you after all this time, and the sympathetic look in his eyes was all the same too whether in quick or lingering glances. He stood apart from everyone else, in the abyss of his eyes it didn’t feel like pity, it felt like understanding.

It was those same abysmal brown-black eyes that would stare back at you in every dream you dreamt on Motel 6 pillows since you first walked into Adventureland one lonely Valentine’s Day. Since you first met Eddie Munson.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───── ⋆⋅˚ʚ♡ɞ˚⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

an: this chapter was so long so pls give me some grace if it seems to go in and out of first person pov lol

- levi

[siofreed]

DMC dream idea, with cameo of @tie-dyed-glades's AU Leon & Lulu.

(Naming my dream vessel Sio as usual)

---

Sio was born as the first kid of Sparda, back when he was still young. Younger Sparda lacks a lot of his future armoring, looking quite like DMC3 Vergil’s Devil Trigger form. Since he was much weaker than his older canon self, Sio inherited more aspects from the other parent (... felt like Sparda carried Sio), looking like a darker & simpler version of Nero’s Devil Trigger form. Sparda left little Sio somewhere with lots of humans to fend for themself.

Over the millennia, Sio steadily grows stronger, occasionally picking up more abandoned siblings, though that stopped once Sparda joined Mundus. The siblings tend to linger in the human’s civilizations, originally to discreetly feed off them, then later to hide from Sparda’s increasing number of enemies. Most of their siblings weren’t strong enough to live more than a few centuries, so their group continues to shrink.

Thousands of years later, Sio woke up from one of their decade-long deep sleep. They rejoin the agency (founded by their siblings) as a support agent. There were a few missions with Leon, where Sio informed the poor guy they have not seen his wife in ages. Leon does seem to have a glowing Lulu tattoo though.

Later on, they received news that, not only did their dear old dad actually settle down & marry, he spawned more little siblings? & didn’t even inform them??? (They heard it from another sibling) By the time they track down their new siblings, which happens during one of Leon’s missions, its to find Tony Redgrave? Gilver pings as a sibling too? (going by the fanon where Gilver is like Trish, but with Vergil)

---

Feels like Dante is a time traveler from DMC2? He’s all sad & suicidal AF, needing either Sio or a panicking Gilver to drag him out of danger.

Sio does not consider Sparda their father, only calling him the title mockingly

They do keep an eye on what he’s up to, if only out of morbid curiosity

As the firstborn, they do have some kind of bond to Sparda, able to feel his general condition & direction

Sparda has less & less kids as he became stronger, following the fanon stronger demons have lower fertility

Sio & the older Spardakin are technically weaker than the disaster twins since they were born when Sparda himself was still weak(ish) & are all full demons

Based of the fanon the reason the twins & Nero are so strong is due to their human blood

The siblings are more Jacks-of-all-Trades, having a variety of skills between them

In battle, Sio plays Tank to their siblings’ DPSes

Feels like I'm forgetting something 🤔

*Hours later* Oh shit I forgot about Vergil! 😱

[rhosmeinir]

Fictober 2023 #7

Prompt #7 - "Do you recognize this?"

Fanfiction: Good Omens

Rating: G

Warnings: None

Pairing: Ineffable Husbands/Aziracrow

Other Notes: In which they clean the bookshop, and Aziraphale finds something he'd almost forgotten. 467 words!

Crowley had finally convinced Aziraphale to do something about at least some of the clutter in the bookshop— using the reasoning, of course, that while it might keep the customers away, it also made it harder for the angel himself to find things. This argument had the benefit of being true, and Aziraphale agreed, resulting in the pair of them spending the day amidst clouds of dust, stacks of books that hadn’t been disturbed in who knows how long, and attempting to decipher handwriting on old scrolls and ledgers that would have made the best of paleographers cringe. 

At the moment, Aziraphale was tackling an old desk on the circular balcony that had been piled high with books, bric-a-brac, and various literary paraphernalia for decades. At one point it had been his primary desk, positioned to overlook the front door, but this had led to the impression of being welcoming to those who wished to purchase books, and he’d abandoned it. Aziraphale was making quite good headway, and the desk now contained only a single layer of various stuff. He exhaled with a contented “ha!” before reaching out at random to pick up an object.

Crowley, who had been attacking a dangerously unstable bookcase nearby, leaned around it at the sound of Aziraphale’s satisfied noise, feather duster in hand. His lighthearted tease died on his lips as he saw the angel cradling something in a posture that he seemed to remember, with a look of deep sadness on his face.

“Angel?” Crowley asked, sliding out from behind the bookcase and heading towards the desk, “What’ve you got there?” Aziraphale looked up, and showed Crowley the object: an old glass wide-mouthed bottle, with a grisly-looking object inside.

“Do you recognize this?” Crowley peered at it for a moment before it came back to him.

“Oh, yes! That’s from good old Mister Dalrymple’s house of medical horrors, isn’t it. You went back for that? What of earth for?” Aziraphale returned to tenderly cradling to jar, and sank onto the tall stool beside the desk. He stroked the glass gently with one finger, all the details of the tumor inside returning to his memory from the many hours he had spent staring at it at this very desk.

“As a reminder,” he said in a low voice, “that I am frequently wrong and do not know best.” Aziraphale looked up at Crowley, and his lip trembled. The demon strode to his side and put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it comfortingly.

“Come on, Angel. Let’s find him a new place in the window downstairs. I think there’s a sunny spot on the sill above your desk currently occupied by a horrible ceramic Pekingese.” At once Aziraphale’s expression transformed into one of horrified protestation.

“Oh, but I love that dog!”  

[set-phasers-to-whump]

maybe

prompt: animal trap

whumpee: eddie diaz

fandom: 911

hi! here's the first of three eddie fics in a row, which i have just realized i wrote as i'm typing this. get ready for a barrage of me beating up my favorite (fictional) firefighter :)

Eddie doesn’t like this place. 

It’s an old house, half-collapsed and completely abandoned, sitting in the middle of a large, yellowed yard that is filled with various pieces of debris - old car parts, scrap metal, and the like. 

It is also on fire. So far, the flames have not engulfed the entire place, but it’s a matter of minutes. And then, there’s all the dry grass, and beyond that, trees. 

He’s in front, pulling the hose towards the house, trudging through the overgrown grass and kicking aside the occasional gas canister or piece of rotted timber. 

He doesn’t even see it, it’s buried so deep in the grass, likely having laid there untouched for at least a decade. 

He doesn’t know what’s happened, at first, and thinks he’s just twisted his ankle. He stops walking and looks down, and then the pain hits him at full force. 

There is a bear trap, rusted but very much functional, clamped onto his foot. Its teeth have punched right through his boot and into his flesh, and it fucking hurts. 

He sort of sinks to the ground with a strangled yelp, his right leg stuck out from his body at a strange angle in an attempt not to jostle it. 

“Hey, guys?” he calls to his team, who are already hurrying towards him. “I might need a little help over here.”

Hen gets to him first. 

“Is that a bear trap?”

He nods and then sucks in a sharp breath as her fingers touch the trap embedded in his foot. 

“Jesus,” is Chimney’s contribution. “Who puts a bear trap in their front yard?”

Bobby and Buck hurry past them, picking up the hose Eddie’d dropped as a loud popping sound reminds him that there’s still a fire to be fought. 

He focuses on watching the flames and watching Bobby and Buck attack the fire from the outside. Hen and Chim are stabilizing his foot, and it hurts. Every slight movement sends a wave of pain up his entire leg. 

He watches Bobby and Buck enter the building, and doesn’t look away until they’re back, the house behind them smoking but no longer aflame. 

By the time Bobby and Buck return to them, Hen and Chim have gotten Eddie onto a backboard, prepped for transport in the ambulance they had not expected to be making use of on this particular call. 

They get situated in the ambulance, and Eddie reluctantly allows Chim to give him a small amount of morphine. Every second that goes by makes his foot hurt worse. He can feel it throbbing in time with his heartbeat, which is already too fast. 

He wants the damn thing off of him, although he knows that they can’t remove it now without potentially causing more damage. But he can feel the teeth digging into his skin and it’s awful and he wants them out. 

Chim notices his discomfort, places a hand on his shoulder. 

“We’ll get this thing off you in no time,” he says. “How you holding up?”

Eddie shrugs. “Been better, been worse,” he replies, trying to keep his voice even. Fuck, this hurts. 

“It’s only a few more minutes. Sure I can’t talk you into a little more of the good stuff? It’ll help, you know. There’s no point in making yourself suffer. It’s only us here.”

“Fine,” Eddie relents, because it does really hurt, “but only a little.” 

Chim pumps his fist like he’s just won a prize, and injects a small amount more of morphine into Eddie’s IV bag. 

It helps, of course. The pain recedes in his mind, just a little bit, but enough to make a difference. 

“What did I tell you?” Chim asks. “We carry this stuff for a reason.”

Eddie raises his hand in mock surrender. Chimney has a point, though Eddie isn’t sure that he wants to admit it. But what’s the point in suffering needlessly? In not accepting something that can ease the pain? 

“Maybe you’re right,” he admits. 

Maybe there is nothing to be lost from accepting help. Maybe there is nothing to be lost from admitting to pain. 

Maybe. 

thanks for reading! hope you liked it, love youuuu <3

[theeccentricraven]

If you are joining NaNoWriMo at the last minute, read this first...

I've been preparing for NaNoWriMo for about four months now. I have my outlines, profiles, and world development in place. Even with all of my planning, I know I'll still discover a lot of the story as I write. Sometimes I see comments throughout the web along the lines of "I'm joining NaNoWriMo at the last minute. I'm kinda scared. Should I be worried?" For the most part, I say welcome on board. You're never too late to join. Last minute joiners are the most pansty of all pansters. As a planster, I say you can succeed as either panster, planner, or in between.

However, recently I realized a reason to be careful about joining at the last minute. Sometimes a comment may be along the lines of, "I don't even have any ideas for NaNoWriMo."

I will say it out right: You should only join and write if you are passionate about your idea.

I personally don't agree with writing for writing's sake, that is, for the motive, "I want to write/participate because I like the idea of being a writer" or "I want to write because it sounds something cool people do". Unfortunately, things aren't likely to turn out well for you if that's the case.

The key to succeed at NaNoWriMo, a writing career, or writing in general is to have passion. You need to be passionate about your idea. You need to feel like it's your calling. You need to feel like the world depends on you to tell this story. You have to feel like you are dying to tell this story.

Not joking.

Writing is hard. Most people who try to be writers fail for that reason. It can be stressful and keep you up at night. NaNoWriMo prepares you for the life of a writer. It helps get you to learn to spend more time writing and to focus. You aren't likely to be willing to go through it if you aren't passionate about your idea.

Regarding my NaNo 2023 project, "The Blood Cleaners" I'm madly passionate about this story and my main character Justin. I got the idea clear back when I was working as a custodian and got an idea for a story where special powers were needed to clean up blood. I worked on various WIP's until I abandoned my writing for nearly a decade. Thankfully, I'm back to writing now. I remembered my old idea and how I would regret to never let it take fruition. I know this will be hard and a lot of obstacles are ahead. I am ready to face them head on because of how important it is to me.

So if you realize you aren't passionate about your idea nor NaNoWriMo, you have options. It depends on what you feel is best for you. You could go ahead and try and see how it works for you. Some people might write 10,000 words, 7,00 words, or 500 words before realizing, "This isn't for me" and stopping. This is ok. You often don't know until you try. If you decide to go on and write the 50,000 words then go for it! If you feel you'd be happier writing something other than a novel, that's great. NaNoWriMo does support using that time to write poetry, non-fiction, screenplays, or other mediums instead. You could also instead use the time to work on outlining your idea if you want to write it but just don't feel ready yet. You can also pick up another worthy project. Cooking, baking, painting, crochet, music composition, sports, etc. are all good things.

In the end, if you are passionate about your idea, don't feel scared to join NaNoWriMo at the last minute. Your passion will take ahold of you and help you overcome obstacles. If nothing else, NaNoWriMo will help you learn what to do in the future, wherever your passion lies.

Photo by Ospan Ali on Unsplash.

[whumpitlikeyoumeanit]

June of Doom 3

@juneofdoom Day 3: Stalking

(( blood / blood magic / stalking / obsession / stealth stabbing ))

fandom: Harry Potter whumpee: Lucius Malfoy (age 13) sorta whumper: Narcissa (age 12) sorta words: 1400

After breakfast, Narcissa slipped back into the dungeons instead of going to Herbology. Except for some older students on their way to Potions who had no reason to notice a second-year, the halls were fairly empty, but she was still quick and quiet as she sneaked her way back into the Slytherin common room. 

One seventh-year studying, but it wasn't Bella and he didn't even pull himself out of his books to notice her come in. She hurried into the dorm hall, and looked around one more time before she slipped into the third year boys' room. She had her wand out in case there was some sort of trap, but that was just paranoia. Nothing stopped her coming in where she wasn't supposed to be.

There were seven beds in the room, and of course his would be the centre of them, with everyone else lined up like his court. She knew it was his before she even came close enough to confirm it by the Malfoy crest on the winter cloak draped over the trunk; the elves had already been by to make the beds, but she still thought his was neater than the rest. He was always perfectly put together. 

She dropped to her knees beside the trunk at the foot of his bed and pried it open. Everything inside was excruciatingly neat, too. His clothes were folded and stacked precisely, and the books were lined up with their spines facing upward so the titles could be read for easy reference, except for one laid out on top of them to be on hand, one on duelling magic. That must be one of his favourite clubs. 

She wished she could just study his things, but if she lingered she risked being caught there. She dug through the trunk without disturbing things, not certain what she was looking for, but certain she would know it when she found it. 

She found it in a brooch wrapped up with a couple other pieces of jewellery, a couple pairs of cufflinks and an amulet, in a scarf. It was heavy, gold, and fashioned in detail into the Malfoy family crest of roses and stars. He wore it when he was going out; she'd seen him with it when he was going on a Hogsmeade trip a month ago. It was perfect.

It took a careful moment to put everything back how she had found it and straighten the cloak over the trunk. She knew she had to go, but she was drawn further toward his living space instead. The bed was so precisely made it looked like a coin would bounce on it. She drifted her fingers up the pristine black quilt and then rolled the corner of the pillowcase between them. There was no hair on it. She wondered if it smelled like him…

There was a sound in the hallway, and she immediately ran for the door with silent steps, tucking her treasure close in her pocket. 

—-

There was a lot more to the dungeons than most people realised. They went down and down, with weird twisting corridors and strange sudden vaults. Quite a lot of it was used for storage, where things seemed to have been abandoned for decades and forgotten. She liked it more than anywhere else in the school. 

She had chosen a small room tucked behind a gryphon statue for her own, and rolled a broken blackboard to cover the door for an extra precaution. A single guttering candle lit her space. The only other object she had laid out was a silver knife.

The brooch was on the floor in front of her, and she knelt bent over it, hair falling around it in a sheer blonde curtain. She had drawn with her wand on the floor, the circles she had read in the old book at home and committed to memory over the summer. She didn't see any trace of it, or any sign that magic was working, but she had to believe in it.

She picked up the knife in her wand hand and whispered words in a language she didn't know, something older than the Latin most of their common spells were based on. As she finished the chant the first time, she drew the knife across the inside of her arm; she winced, but she had practised, mutely testified to by the faint scars on her arm, and the pain wasn't surprising anymore. It didn't make her words falter. For the length of the chant again, she held her arm above the brooch and squeezed it so that blood dripped down onto the gold. 

Blood magic was ancient magic. Most sources from the mediaeval times to the present day thought it didn't truly exist, that it was superstition and an ignorant need of the heathens to try to control the world with wishes and sacrifices because they didn't understand how it really worked.

But she knew it was real. If she had had any niggling doubt before, that was banished as she pulled her arm back and repeated the long spell for a third time. She could feel it. A shiver ran through her body and nearly cut off her words, but she managed not to let it. It was like the pain of the bloodletting cut was being transformed into pure power that ran through her, and pooled inside her, almost too much, and when she held her hands over the brooch it was to let it out before it burst out of her all on its own. It was like nothing else, not even the first time she used magic or her first intentional spell or even finding her wand. 

The power drew out of her and collected in the brooch instead. It left her shivering and short of breath, surprisingly exhausted but exhilarated. She didn't want to move. 

She pressed her hand over the cut to stop the bleeding — she didn't know any healing spells, so that was all she could do — and cautiously touched the brooch. Her fingers jerked back of their own accord the first time. It wasn't hot, precisely, but the touch left her fingers feel sort of burned, tingling… She looked around for something and ended up gingerly wrapping a corner of her cloak around it so she could pick it up. 

She sat back, cradling the little piece of unassuming power, wiping the blood from its face and watching it with quiet wonder. He was really going to be hers… 

—-

She tried to catch him alone coming in from Quidditch practice, but even then there were two girls and McLaggen with him. One of the girls was Andromeda — she didn't even play Quidditch, she was just following him. She looked so pleased and confident there, they all did, like they didn't have any care in the world… 

She meant to slip away, but Andromeda noticed her and lagged back. "Hi, Spare," she said with a little smirk. "I heard you played truant today."

She didn't answer, didn't look at her, just let her sister's words wash over her without taking hold, like always. 

Andromeda didn't mind, like always. "You're probably in for detention if you don't have a good excuse. You'd best go talk to the teachers before someone asks Bella where you were." 

"Fine." She didn't want Bella's attention, but she'd deal with that later. They were getting close to the common room, now, and she walked a little faster to close with the group. She was concerned he would head straight to his dorm and out of her reach. 

"Hey, I'm just trying to look out for you. You could be more gracious."

She didn't care if Andromeda was affronted. They slowed down on the stairs down into the common room, and that let her bunch up with the others. She slipped between him and the older girl just after they came through the door, and reached out to his hand on the way past. 

She heard a sharp intake of his breath and caught a glance of him looking around, but she was already walking toward her room, carefully protecting her needle and its precious drop of his blood.

[tparadox]

Finally got to rewatch Disney's The Hunchback of Notre Dame for the first time in over a decade. Some thoughts:

How did Disney allow their artists to make this? For so many reasons.

My wife is right, Disney may be in or have passed through a recent revival, but the Disney Renaissance movies were art on a different level.

I finally hunted down where the name of the third gargoyle LaVerne came from. Victor and Hugo are obvious, but I was trying to determine if LaVerne was his middle name or where he lived or his wife or something. She's named after Laverne Andrews of the Andrews Sisters. Pretty random, but that mystery is solved. Apparently they were planning on naming them after the three big name actors to play Quasimodo on film, but they got worried the actors or their families would sue.

I had a lot of questions about the source material and:

I grew up thinking that Frollo was a religious official, obviously. He's so concerned with being seen as the most pious man in France that he must be clergy. Eventually I picked up that he's a judge. Well, in the book, he's the Archdeacon of Notre Dame. Explains why the Archdeacon in the movie has no name and only affects the plot in the prologue.

It seems as though Quasimodo is only a ward of the cathedral because he was abandoned as a baby for being disfigured. His relationship with Frollo seems to be at best "lackey". He follows Frollo's orders because they come from the Archdeacon.

Wikipedia says that Esmeralda is the protagonist of the book. On the one hand, I wish we would get an adaptation that actually centers on her, but on the other, the book is about how she's 16 and four men are obsessed with her and three of them try to rape her, the fourth (Quasimodo) trying to kidnap her on Frollo's orders early on. It's revealed in the end that "actually she wasn't a Romany by birth, she was stolen from a good French mother to replace the deformed baby the Romany couple abandoned at the cathedral." Yuck.

Four men? Yes, there's a poet who wants her too. As far as I can tell from the Wikipedia summary, his biggest contribution to the plot is that he accidentally enters the Court of Miracles and Esmeralda agrees to marry him so her Romany cohort don't kill him to keep their secret. It's a sham marriage and she refuses to let him touch her, which he's really upset about, but from there it seems his main role is "technically this girl has a husband".

Phoebus got a massive rehabilitation by Disney. Esmeralda gets a teenage crush on him, but he only wants her body. When she refuses him, he tries to rape her and she stabs him in self defense. She's arrested for attempted murder, and under torture, falsely confesses to actual murder. Frollo was secretly watching the whole assault and stabbing.

I went looking for the soundtrack and found the Original Cast Recording of the "New Musical with Music from The Disney Movie". It fixes a lot of the things I felt held back the movie while going deeper on everything I loved. It's even more "Disney was really okay with this?"

The musical has no slapstick comic relief gargoyles to keep the kids entertained, but the gargoyles and saints carved into the cathedral do act as a Greek chorus to Quasimodo. At one point a specific one draws from his own martyr story to try to inspire Quasimodo to heroic action. I would've found it more balanced if there had been a couple more saints offering their own life/death experience, but it's still an improvement over singing a song about how their buddy's crush is definitely head over heels for him minutes before he sees that she's into someone else. Apparently the German version that briefly ran before it was re-adapted back into English did have the comic relief gargoyles, but they did name them after the Hunchback actors they originally wanted to, tweaked just enough to be maybe more defensible?

The main change I didn't like in the musical is the change from Quasimodo being Frollo's charge because he killed his mother and was challenged to do right by the child he was about to drown, which I think is perfect, to Frollo's half-Romany nephew left in his care by Jehan Frollo, the estranged brother he failed to save from a life of "sin", before dying. That's somehow less personal a connection than killing his mother in bigoted zeal. I appreciate the attempt to bring Jehan into the story and of more import than "Claude suspects Esmeralda likes a soldier named Phoebus and wants to find the guy and it just so happens that Claude's depraved brother happens to be the guy's drinking buddy."

I'm most open to gentle correction here but in large part due to this movie I thought that part of the anti-Romany persecution was driven by them being pagan heretics outside the Church, but when I went into reading up on Romany culture, it turns out that there isn't really a "Romany religion". The overwhelming majority is either Christian or Muslim (according to Wikipedia) and my impression is that until recently, the cultural aspect that Romany settlers picked up from their surroundings the most readily was the local religion. Perhaps that was conversion due to persecution I didn't see referenced in those articles, and I'm sure painting the outsiders as heretics was fashionable whether true or not, but this seems to be actually entirely ethnically based bigotry. I'd be interested in a Romany response to the depiction in the movie.