#please consider reblogging if you enjoy them 💜

[lestatslestits]

After approximately 2.5 weeks of work, I’m excited to share my little passion project. I don’t tend to sew for myself, but I couldn’t get the thought of making these out of my head, and here is the end result

Some fun facts about these dolls:

I patterned, cut, and sewed every single piece by hand

Aziraphale’s hair is yarn, and I sewed in and tied off every single piece individually. His hair alone took me upwards of ten hours

I could only find white sunglasses at the craft store, so Crowley’s glasses are hand painted by me

Aziraphale’s pocket watch is an actual functional mini pocket watch. It keeps time!

I had originally planned to use four-hole buttons for Aziraphale’s eyes, but I couldn’t find the exact ones that I needed, so I went with two-hole buttons, which I rotated in order to differentiate Aziraphale’s eyes from Crowley’s. The result is that Aziraphale now has goat eyes. Which feels appropriate somehow. Bless the ineffability of happy accidents.

In conclusion: I am incredibly proud of these man-shaped beings and I hope you enjoy them too!

[gremlin-girly]

Kinktober Day 4

Title: Dark Fantasy Meets Reality

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen (The Gray Man) x f!Reader

Kink: CNC

Tags/ Warnings: SMUT, CNC, hair pulling, rough sex, pet names (sweetheart, pretty girl, sunshine), praise (good girl), man-handling, bondage (zipties), p-in-v (wrap it before you tap it), cream pie, choking/breath play, panties and fingers in mouth, vaginal fingering, Lloyd Hansen (He is most DEFINITELY a warning)

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: You find a place on the Web where you can spell out your sexual desires with no judgement and maybe even hire some help... 

As always I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, translated or copied. My warnings are non-exhaustive (even though I do try to capture everything) but please read at your own risk. I am not responsible for your content consumption.

A/N: Jeez, cutting it close with this one. I had another fic for today but I wanted to change the pacing so I decided this might be a better fit - Love Grem 💜

I hope you enjoy; comments, likes and reblogs are always welcome!

Prev | Next | Masterlist

You half growl to yourself and kick off the covers.

This was getting ridiculous.

You were beyond horny – you were desperate for some relief but everytime you got close to that sweet, sweet edge of ecstasy, you were viciously pulled away. Either there was a delivery, or phone call, something that snapped your mind our of fantasy and back to reality. Sometimes it was your own mind sabotaging you; you forgot the washing again, that very important work thing you had. Things that only added to your stress and frustration. Always  Ruining what would have been a perfect orgasm.

You’d been without a partner for a while now, and at first it was great. You and your fingers or vibrator were happy as a clam. However, the insatiable need of physical touch became overpowering. You didn’t want the torturous, laborious process of getting to know someone before trusting them enough to reveal some of your kinks for them to either break it off or judge you. Although it would be nice to have someone to share your bed with, once in a while.

You huffed, tugging your sweat pants back on, and heading to the bathroom to wash your hands. You needed to do something or someone and soon. You head back to your laptop, your coffee cold and uninviting, grumbling as you answer emails. It’s not long before your mind wanders, taunting you with thoughts and daydreams of utter filth. You glance to your phone.

Surely, there has to be a website for your sort of fantasies right? You see comments on reddit and porn sites so – surely – there’s a site where you could at least talk through your fantasies?

You pick up your phone and begin to type; work abandoned. After forty minutes of searching you find a site, agreeing to terms and conditions and set up a log in; using a faceless image of yourself in your favourite bra. Writing out your biography is a strangely freeing feeling. Openly listing kinks and things you’d like to try; things you’d never, ever tell a random person you’d meet face to face. Its not long before you’re browsing through posts and you can feel the familiar bubble of excitement build. You bite your lip.

It’s a dangerous game but you consider making a post, laying out what you need. You remind yourself of digital footprints but God – you need some form of release that maybe this will help. So you write. It’s not a New York Times Bestseller, but it’ll do. You re-read it, ironing out any spelling mistakes or especially bad grammar and hit the post button. You stare as it publishes your content and sigh softly. You’re not sure how to feel.

“I can always delete it in a few days,” you tell yourself, setting your phone face down and looking back to your laptop. “Yeah. I could always do that.”

You’re running errands a week later when your phone buzzes with a notification. You dismiss it and shrug it off, continuing to walk down the street with your tote over your shoulder. It was a warm day, a deliciously cool breeze in the air and youd taken the time and effort  to make yourself up. A cute summer dress that was almost a little revealing, your favourite strawberry lip gloss and make up to exentuate your favourite and best features and your hair, your hair, was just perfect today.

It still didn't stop the ache from your clit though. That was the only downside.

You reached around the snacks in your tote bag to find the keys to your home but your key wouldn’t turn. You frowned a little and try the handle. The front door swung open to an empty apartment. You shiver slightly.

“Must’ve forgot to lock it. Damn.” You murmur to the hallway as you step inside. You turn to lock the door and when the bolt slides home, a gloved handovers your mouth and you’re yanked backwards into a broad, hard chest. You yelp as you’re pulled, legs wobbling but another large hand appears at your hip, holding you steady against your aggressor.

“Welcome home,” a deep voice rumbles from behind you, breath hot on your neck and wisps of facial hair tickling the shell of your ear. You go to make a noise, but the hand encompassing your jaw squeezes hard.

“Ah – ah – ah,” the voice chides teasingly and you can hear the smirk in his voice. “I don’t want you screaming just yet.”

It was like someone had poured ice down your spine. You were spun around and early marched down the short hallway  and into the kitchen, your tote ripped from your shoulder and tossed somewhere – you didn’t really care, you were to busy thinking about what would happen next. Marched to the countertop, your aggressor pushed your head flat against the surface, nestling a strong leg between your thighs  to stop you trying to make a hasty attempt at escape  while a free hand bound your wrists behind your back with what felt like zipties, biting into your skin agonisingly. He made an approving humming sound, and although you couldn’t quite see him, you could feel his eyes roaming over you. Gloved hands ghosted from your knees, to your thighs and to your ass, giving it an appreciative squeeze as the skirt of your dress was lifted over your hips. You felt yourself flush with a mixture of fear and embarassment, knowing your lace panties were being admired.

“All this for me? You shouldn’t have.”

You wriggled feebly, which earned you a harsh smack to on ass cheek, making you squeak with shock. You kick your legs out, earning another, harder smack to your other cheek. This time you cry out, and you hear the voice chuckle.

“Behave, sweetheart,” you hear a belt buckle clink behind you and freeze up. “Or don’t. I don’t really care.”

You whimper when you feel a finger run down to your clit over your panties and you flush again when you feel your legs practically vibrate at the sensation. Another chuckle from the man behind you.

“Oh, sweetheart. Here, let me help.”  

You feel your panties slowly and tauntingly slide down over your ass cheeks, your voice dying in your throat the hot flesh between your legs met the cool air of your kitchen.  You can feel your panties hang loosely around your ankles and there’s a tap against your leg from a polished shoe. On instinct you raise your foot.

“Good girl,” purrs the voice, tapping your other leg with his foot. You repeat the motion, raising your other leg. There’s a dramatic sigh as the man leans over, swiftly sweeping your panties from the floor. You whimper when he leans over your body, pressing you into the counter. Your bones cry in agony with the pressure and you bite your lip to keep any sort of noise slipping out. Which is futile when a large hand knots in your hair, pulling your hair by the root, forcing you to crane your neck back uncomfortably to look at the man behind you. Tears sting at your eyes but you say nothing, focusing intently as predatory blue eyes bore into you. You can see a playful sneer tugging at his lips beneath a groomed moustache, contorting a handsome face into a dangerously seductive one.

“Hey, pretty girl. Name’s Lloyd. I need you to remember that, got it?”

You don’t think you’d be able to forget it anytime soon but you nod anyway, keeping your teeth firmly pressed against the softness of your lips as you look back at him with glassy wide eyes. His smile widens and he pats your right ass cheek gently.

“Good girl,” He praises, raising your panties to your mouth. “Open wide, pretty girl.”

Your heart beats wildly as you comply, feeling the thick gloved fingers shove the flimsy material into your open mouth. Shame floods you as you feel the dampness of your excitement touch your tounge – this should not turn you on as much as it does. Lloyd takes in your expression, and looks pleased.

“You look good with your mouth full, sunshine.” He teases, squeezing your ass cheek with his free hand before moving to your aching core. Your moan is suppressed by your panties and Lloyd’s fingers in your mouth. Lloyd slips two fingers into your desperate hole with ease, sliding them in and out torturously slow, smirking down at you as your eyes flutter and your legs shift. He teases and flexes his fingers inside of you, spreading and stretching you open with a delicious burn that had you keening around the fingers in your mouth.

“Shit,” He gasps tauntingly. “You’re already soaked. You don’t need the warm-up.”

Your eyes go wide when you feel his cock run over your folds, gathering the slick that had built up between your thighs. You make a muffled sound of protest that evolves into a long moan as Lloyd sheaths his cock into your throbbing cunt. Your eyes roll back and Lloyd’s fingers move from your mouth to wrap around your throat, squeezing your windpipe lightly and pulling you backwards so you’re flush against his chest.

“That’s it, pretty girl.” He coos huskily into your ear, “Take it.”

The hand in your hair moves to your hip, keeping you still as he starts to thrust into you. Lloyd’s moustache tickles at your throat when he trails kisses along the back of your neck, the grip from his hand squeezing so tightly you feel lightheaded. But damn, if it doesn’t feel good. Your pussy grips his cock making Lloyd grunt into your ear, thrusting harder into you. You mewl around your panties, trying to shift your tied hands to no avail.

Lloyd groans as he feels your slick walls flutter around him, milking his cock so well, so quickly. A gloved finger hooks part of your panty and tugs it free from your mouth, throwing to the floor with a wet thud. You take a huge gulp of air before Lloyd’s hand is back around your throat again.

“Who does this pussy belong to?” He growls, tugging your neck back forcefully. You yell out, back arching along with your neck as your hips slam mercilessly against the countertop.

“Y-You!” You cry out, gasping for air when he releases your throat to let you speak. Lloyd clicks his tongue, squeezing your throat again.

“No, no, sweetheart,” he chides, voice low. “Get it wrong again and I’ll have to spank you. Now, let’s try again. Who does this pussy belong to?”

He releases your throat again but this time you almost scream his name. “Lloyd! I-it belongs to yo-“

“That’s right, baby!” Lloyd interrupts you loudly, cutting off your air supply once more. He fucks into you mercilessly, and you’re sure you’ve got Bruises on your hips, but you don’t really care. Lloyd’s sneer against your neck with filthy praises falling from his lips make your head spin and you don’t even notice that you’re cumming over his cock until he releases your neck to let you scream.

“Oh, look at you.” He huffs, continuing the unrelenting pace, loving the feeling of your soaked cunt around him and the way your legs are shaking. “Doin’ so well for me sweetheart. I think I’m gonna have to keep you.”

You whine pitifully, pleasure blurring your brain as you nod along to his words.

“Fuck, you’d like that?” Lloyd groans. His hips stutter for a moment but when he starts to fuck you again, it’s sloppier and less focused. “You’d like to be all mine?”

“Oh – yes!” You half-sob, eyes rolling to look up at the ceiling as you feel your pussy spasm; close to cumming yet again. That spasm is what sends Lloyd over the edge, pinning you in place with his hands on your hips as he coats your walls with his cum. You follow soon after, again, squeezing him for everything he can give.

Your breathing is shallow but you tell when cool metal slips against your wrist, freeing your from the ties. Your hands fly out to grab the counter, steading yourself as you catch your breath.

“Well, sunshine, this was fun.” Lloyd comments nonchalantly as he removes himself from you lazily, prolonging the feeling of his cock slipping from you before giving your ass a pat. “But I’ve got a job nearby – shouldn’t be too long.”

You push yourself up onto your elbows and blink a few times. You glance over your shoulder to see him shoving himself back into his pants quickly. He gives you a wink and a smirk that has a blush creeping up your neck.

“Don’t give me that look,” He says waggling a finger jokingly at you. “I’ll be back later for another round. Or three.”

You nod, still a little shell-shocked and ruminating in post-orgasm bliss. Maybe that website wasn't half bad after all.

[liliewrites]

hi there, little love !

" oh, it seems you've stumbled upon my cozy little space, welcome darling! "

hello hello, i'm kylie!

you can call me any lielie or any nn, any is fine! i don't mind! you're all my little lovely lilies here!:)

i am 18, she/her and i'm 100% wlw. 🏳️‍🌈/🇵🇭

i really love strawberries, i love women and pink is my favorite color!

besides writing and thirsting over women, i am an avid gamer. besides hoyogames, ptn and r1999, i also play a lot of other games! mainly rpgs and jrpgs hehe. women..

i'm a big fan of vtubers, mainly hololive and idol corp. i have no kami-oshi nor do i have a favorite group. i love them all!

the wonderful woman in my pfp is none other than me, kylie! drawn by my lovely irl friend:))

my current favorite women are ; arlecchino (the loml), stelle, karlach cliffgate, falin and tennant (from r1999).

requests are open, love! (rules and masterlist utc)

you are free to leave requests/asks, although keep in mind of the following rules and reminders ;

i may take a lot of time when writing your request, as i do my best to write each fic with lots of love. so i hope you don't mind waiting for awhile! rest assured, it's there and i'm still working on it. if it doesn't come out in a week or two, then you're free to resubmit your ask!

i accept one-shots, headcanons and long fics. both sfw and nsfw.

i only and only write for female x female. this blog is purely for sapphic/wlw only! (as i am a woman enthusiast-)

besides female!reader/character, i can also write for transfem!reader/character. gender neutral can be accepted, but they will be afab on default if description of genitalia/appearance is required.

strictly NO MEN. my blog is for the ladies only. i want my blog to be a cozy space for sapphics to enjoy:))

for nsfw- besides smut, i can write violence and slightly dark content. however, any controversial themes such as pedophilia, rape, abuse etc. will usually not be accepted (exceptions may vary, depending on the extremity and context). all my nsfw content will have some kind of consent!

for the baby lilies (minors), you are all free to interact with my sfw content okay? but the nsfw content are a no-no for you! i can't control your actions if you wish to read them at your own discretion, but if i find out that you are a minor interacting (sending asks, commenting, reblogging) with my nsfw content then you will be blocked. i'm sorry, little love! but my nsfw content contain things that aren't for you yet.

which woman would you like to dream of, love?

i can write for ;

hoyoverse women

jujutsu kaisen women

demon slayer women

attack on titan women

path to nowhere women

baldurs gate 3 women

just women in general. if there's a woman you want to request for from a certain fandom that i didn't mention here, you are welcome to ask if i can write for them! i love women, hihi.

lielie's masterlist | lielie's series list

lielie's tag list

#lilac asks💜 (for asks i receive from my little loves!) #lilac writes💜 (for all my written works!) #lilac thoughts 💜 (for my random shenanigans!) #lilac garden💜 (for reblogging my own works!) #lilac announcements 💜 (for any important announcements!)

lielie's lovely little anons! 🔥💫☀️🪐

please do not copy/repost any of my works! i only post here on tumblr and not on any other site. also consider following my editor, @crimsondawn28, whom will give any updates regarding the blog should an emergency arise again. thank you for coming by!:)

[feralbeeast]

Pt 2 of the Raven cosplay 💜🐦‍⬛✨ 18+ only nsft under cut

Please consider reblogging or tipping if you enjoy my content 🫶🏻✨ $acutewitchb

₆⁶₆ 𖤐 ₆⁶₆ They / Them ₆⁶₆ 𖤐 ₆⁶₆

[rosewaterandivy]

Through Me Prequel - iii. justice

Summary: The world is of but men and beasts, and you cower to none.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader, Eddie Munson x fem!reader, Steddie x fem!reader

WC: 8.5k

Warnings/Themes: cursing, criticism of religion (catholicism/xtiantiy mostly), religious themes, canon-typical violence, death, idolatry via smut, blasphemy, heretical notions, angst, occasional fluff (as a treat), Biblical & western literary canon and media references/allusions

A/N: This is the last of three prequels centering on the three main characters. This has been in the works since last July, oh my GOD!!! 👀 Thanks to my loves @jo-harrington @powderblueblood and @big-ope-vibes for letting me prattle on about this! 💜

Please do not interact if you aren't 18+.

Nota bene: Reblogging, commenting, and liking my work is always appreciated; reposting, however, is not. This (*) is a singal to check the footnote at the end!

Enjoy! 💜

Masterlist | Playlist | Currently Spinning:

"How lonely to be something that nothing wants to kill."

— Jeremy Radin

Wednesday, July 3, 1985

You are a weapon.

Salvation is an aptly named town, all things considered.

Unfortunate for this particular demon possessing the preacher, however.

After clearing the room, you inspect the various holy icons in the light streaming through the dirty window. A thrash and hiss from the man strapped to the bed as you happen upon a particular amulet tells you everything you need to know.

You step away from the window and onto the bed, kneeling over the preacher as his head rolls back, avoiding your gaze. Lowering yourself to speak directly to the demon in question, you greet, “Hi, I’m Constantine.”

A growl in response.

“I know, I know. My reputation precedes me.”

And press the amulet to his forehead, watching as it sizzles against the skin. Your free hand settles against his chest in an attempt to stabilize the man as the demon thrashes, screeches, and shakes in his body.

Muttering incantations under your breath as his wife looks on from the doorway with her Bible, thumbing worrying over the golden cross strung around her neck. You begin the prayer anew and wait for the mortal flesh to admit defeat, a human, after all, can only take so much. Finally, the body gives in and the thrashing subsides— the preacher unconscious for the time being.

Inspecting the lax body, you lean closer following the subtle movement of his breathing. The visible blue veins of his neck bulging slightly before the demonic form rears up from his throat with teeth bared.

Dropping the keyring of amulets from your hand, you land a punch directly to its gaping maw, regretting having left the gold knuckles in the impala. Shaking out your hand to alleviate the sting, you turn to the wife. “I need a mirror.”

She just stares at you, tears falling down her sunken face.

“A mirror,” You reiterate, “At least three feet high. Move! Go now!”

A few parishioners scurry off in search of a mirror. You jump from the bed and rifle through your bag by the door. Once you’ve grabbed a rope, you toss it on the bed.

“Sorry about the window,” You say to the wife as you grab a chair and break through the glass. Chunks of it fall to the ground from the second storey, a few grazing the trunk of the impala.

You string the rope through the far grate of the fire escape above and crawl back through the window, very much regretting parking so close to the scene today.

Some people return with the mirror after you’ve rotated the bed to face the now broken window. Straddling the prone preacher once more, you grab both ends of the rope and have them raise the mirror above the bed.

“Tie this onto the bottom of it.” You give one end of it to the woman to your left. Turning to your right, you give an older man the other end. “Loop this over the top, on my signal pull.”

He nods, doing as you ask and taking his position at the head of the bed, rope in hand.

To everyone else, “And whatever happens,” You lower your palm to cover the preacher’s eyes, the demon awake and glowering. “Don’t look.”

Palm covering the preacher’s eyes, you begin chanting in a litany of tongues— Latin, Hebrew, Enochian. The growling and thrashing begins anew, the demon not wanting to be ousted from its host. Everything is going according to plan when,

“Holy shit!”

A corner of the mirror comes falling toward you as a man backs away from the bedside, his hair rapidly graying and eventually turning white. His back hits the wall just as you secure the mirror with your arm, allowing the demon enough leverage to go for your throat.

Hand crushed to your windpipe, you let go of the mirror hoping it’ll hold as you grab the preacher’s wrist.

Clearly, no one can be bothered to follow directions anymore. And as much as you try to do your job without tapping into divine intuition, at times it can’t be helped.

Right now, for instance.

Shutting your eyes and taking a deep breath, you relax and allow yourself to sink into your true nature. It’s a risk, the full might of a celestial body against a mortal is no contest. And you’d hate to accidentally injure or, god forbid, kill the guy.

One hand on his wrist at your throat, the other pressing against his chest you open your eyes. The demon caterwauls for respite— the ethereal light burning against its skin, sizzling and crackling.

Using just enough of your power, you get a palm over his eyes again and maneuver the preacher so the demon could reveal itself. It’s invigorating, the thrum as it rushes through you— replenishing the depleted reserves of power in this finite form.

With a blink, divinity slips back to its slumber. Tucked neatly beneath the cage of your ribs, a warmth emanates from it, contented to be of use. But all too alluring, and you can’t become reliant on it.

Not again.

“Smile pretty, you ugly son of a bitch.” You say, taking your hand from his eyes and tilting to the side so the demon has a clear view of the mirror behind you.

It lurches from the man’s throat and lands with a thunk in the mirror’s reflection. The preacher, reeling from the remnants of possession, gazes into the reflection, eyes gone black and smiling widely.

You glance back, to see that the demon is stuck within the mirror. It hisses lowly in response. “Ugh,” With a roll of your eyes, you flip it off. “For your boss.”

Turning back to the man holding the rope, you say, “Pull it!”

He heaves with the effort; the mirror getting stuck against the window frame while the demon pounds at the glass containing it.

Shit.

Rising from the bed, you take the rope from him and give it a tug. When it doesn’t budge from its position, you walk and take the place of the man, placing one foot against the metal bedframe quickly followed by the other and leaning back.

As you tug against the rope while the trapped demon continues to punch its way out, you pull your body upward and climb your hands along it, nearly parallel to the floor at this point. The bed lurches against the floor with a metallic sounding groan.

The wood of the window frame begins to bow against the pressure. With one last forceful pull, it finally gives and sends the mirror careening through the window. Which lands you directly on the floor. You fall to your back with a thud, head knocking against the wooden planks.

The preacher’s wife rushes to the bedside, stepping on you in her haste. From your position on the ground, you listen for a sign that the demon has either escaped or the mirror has held it and shattered against the pavement.

Or your car.

You really hope it’s not your car.

There’s the sound of shattering glass from below, just as the preacher breathes in erratically and opens his eyes.

“Oh, John, you’re okay!” His wife sobs, “Thank God!”

You snort and slowly sit back up, rolling your sore neck and shoulders.

Right, thanks be to He.

Thursday, July 4, 1985

You are aching.

It’s what rouses you from sleep. Car pulled on to the shoulder of a county road somewhere between Salvation and Hawkins. Illinois, if you had to guess— farm land and cornfields as far as the eye could see.

You don’t feel pain, generally speaking, you don’t wound or scar. But none of that explains the chasm in your chest, like something cleaved it open and scooped out your guts. It makes you restless, skin itching as if it's been pulled too tight.

Sitting up, you don’t feel any better.

Back in the driver’s seat, you consult the crumpled map under the light from the dome lamp and decide to drive on what little rest you’d managed to get.

Not that you rest, per se. Recharge is more accurate.

After the engine turns over, you shift the car into gear and pull back onto the road as Creedence Clearwater Revival streams through the speakers.

One hand on the wheel as the other hangs from the window, catching the late night breeze. Heart squeezing inside the chamber of your chest. Hurt radiating from the fissure outward and flooding your veins.

Foot pressing more forcefully on the gas than you’d intended, car picking up speed on this lonely stretch of highway. If only you could just put your finger on it, what’s causing this uncomfortable and foreign sensation— you can taste it on the tip of your tongue, like ash and smoke.

A couple hours later, you turn on the familiar road driving past the ‘Welcome to Hawkins!’ sign. It takes you toward the new mall, awash with flashing red and blue lights.

“Oh, fuck.”

Taking a hard right you pull into the parking lot and kill the engine. Rifling through the glove box you finally find the gold badge you need and reach an arm into the backseat, searching for the slippery feel of a nylon jacket.

Slamming the car door and stowing the badge, you spot a familiar crop of curls hidden under a Camp Know Where hat.

“Henderson!”

He turns back immediately, eyes blowing wide at the sight of you. Hesitant to leave his post near an ambulance, you make your way toward him as you shrug on the jacket and pocket a walkie-talkie that had somehow wound up in your car.

“I knew you weren’t just a camp counselor,” He says with relief and hugs you tight, arms squeezing you around the waist.

Hand at the base of his head, feeling and looking for any injuries, you smile and pull him back to continue assessing. Satisfied that Dustin is safe, you crouch down to his level to ask, “Wanna tell me what you’re doing here?”

He doesn’t immediately respond. Casts his eyes to the pavement and kicks at some stray gravel, “Was just visiting Steve at work s’all…”

Your heart nearly leaps from your chest.

Steve.

Eyes cutting to the ambulance, you take a breath and school your features into something placid.

“Was he—”

“He’s fine, I think,” Dustin is quick to say, “At least, that’s what the paramedic said. Wouldn’t tell me more because I’m not family.” He glances to you again, concerned. “He took care of us, made sure we were safe.”

“That’s… good.” You sigh, scrub a hand down your face. “I’m glad kept you safe buddy.”

Slowly, you stand back up fingers grazing the gold badge at your hip. Running a hand through your hair, you address Dustin, “Does your mom know where you are?”

“Uh,” He flushes a deep pink. “Not exactly.”

“Right, come with me then.”

Weaving through the crowd of people assembled, you walk Dustin in front of you, hands on his shoulders, back to the ambulance. The paramedic leans against the side of it, looking toward the mall.

“Let me do the talking,” You say lowly. He nods and comes to a halt at the side of the vehicle.

A beleaguered paramedic greets you. “Kid, I told you already. You’re not fam—”

You cut him off in a brusque tone, flashing the badge at your hip. “Special Agent Constantine, FBI.”

That shuts him up.

“I understand you have one Steve Harrington in your care, is that correct?”

He nods, dumbly.

“And is it a habit of yours to linger at the scene of a crime when a patient in your care needs immediate medical attention?”

“No, ma’am.”

“I thought as much. You are going to take him,” You push Dustin forward, “And Mr. Harrington directly to the hospital.”

Dustin looks a little too smug at the dressing down you’re giving the paramedic.

“Once there, Dustin will be contacting his mother and you will see to it that Harrington receives the tests and treatment he requires.”

He nods and opens to the cab of the ambulance to let Dustin in.

Momentarily calm in the knowledge that Steve will be fine at the hospital, and that you’ll see him later, you quell the inferno raging in your chest. And dust your palms against your slacks in an effort to stop yourself from slipping into something more than human.

But just barely.

This fucking night.

You shut the door of the cab, arm leaning on the windowsill. “I’ll check on you at the hospital once I’m done here, alright?”

“He really is fine, you know,” Dustin says. “A little banged up, s’all.”

“I’m sure he is,” You agree. “Now—”

“Do you want me to give him a message?”

“Uh.”

“I know you went on that date,” He blurts out. “And Steve has been mumbling about this girl off and on so, I just put two and two together.”

“What?”

Dustin balks. “Oh,” He pauses in thought. “I just assumed it was about you.”

“Huh, okay.” You take a breath, try to give him a reassuring smile. “Tell Steve I had to go to work and I’ll try to not do anything stupid while he’s gone.”

Whatever Dustin was about to say is cut off as the engine to the ambulance turns over, red and blue lights flashing as it pulls out of the parking lot.

_

The badge does most of the talking, you’ve found, in situations such as this. After speaking with Hawkins PD and the United States military officers, you know that Starcourt served as a Russian cell for scientific experimentation and espionage. A fire broke out from an explosion in the subterranean bunker, and there was a carcass of some kind in the food court.

“We’re working to identify it now, Special Agent,” The officer reports, exhaustion evident in his voice. “But if you’d like to go in ahead of your team, we’d welcome the extra help.”

You nod, spying a familiar face in the crowd. Murray’s comforting a sobbing woman as the mall burns, but the expression on his face is reserved solely for you— confusion and disbelief, before it quickly devolves into blind fury.

“I’d be happy to help,” You say to the officer, “Let me alert the team and I’ll be back to suit up.”

Murray hasn’t left the bereaved woman yet. Blending in with the crowd, you grab the walkie from your back pocket and hold it against your mouth, as if you’re talking into it, and stand at his back.

“You’re not supposed to be here, kid,” He says over his shoulder.

“Finished up early, also? Not a kid,” You reply. “Rumor has it, I’m a world-class bad ass and good at my job.”

He snorts, “I’ll believe it when I see it.” His hand rubs soothing circles on the woman’s back, her sobs are beginning to subside from exhaustion more than alleviated grief. “But you still shouldn’t be here.”

“In your professional opinion? Or—”

“Your boss has made it crystal clear that you’re not to be involved.”

You pause, considering the information.

Jobs had dried up for the most part over the past few weeks, Murray would throw you a line every now and again, all easy and quick gigs, generally things deemed well below your pay grade. The recent exorcism being an exception.

With a lack of jobs, and no messages from on high, you’d been left to your own devices. Crashing with Steve or hanging out with Eddie and keeping an ear to the ground for any news of relics or artifacts.

“Well, I’m involved now.”

“Mmm,” He hums, arches a knowing eyebrow. “Didn’t say you were shacked up with Harrington either.”

You sigh, “Didn’t realize you were such a gossip.”

“Didn’t realize you were getting sloppy.”

The walkie in your hand crackles to life before you can hiss out a reply.

“Constantine, do you copy? Over.”

An apologetic shrug to Murray as you press the call button. “Yes, Dustin, I copy.”

The woman Murray’s been comforting lifts her head, “Constan— That’s her?”

You turn back, curious. “That’s me.”

Murray looks just as perplexed as you do. The woman sniffs, pulls back from where she’d been sobbing into his chest. “The kids— Steve, he said—”

But you never figure out what it was Steve had said, because the officer has flagged you down and waves you over to suit up and head in to the scene.

“Sorry ma’am, but I have to go.” Murray can surely smooth that over and just fill you in later.

You turn back toward the military tent and radio back to Dustin. “I’m about to head into the mall, buddy. I’ll let you know when I’m done.” You step into the tent, “Stay with Steve. Over.”

The hazmat suit is ready for you, another officer at the ready to assist. You shuck your FBI jacket onto a nearby chair.

“Don’t do it.”

You look to the walkie in your hand, shocked.

Because it’s not the rushed intonation of Dustin’s voice sounding through the speaker. It’s Steve. Not his usual pep and cadence, but him nonetheless.

“I’ll be fine,” You assure him, and you will be. You always are, but he doesn’t necessarily know that just yet.

Or at least he shouldn’t. You hadn’t had that conversation yet.

“C’mon angel,” He sounds tired, as if the act of speaking is beyond his capabilities.

“In and out, no problems,” You say, stepping into the suit at your feet. “I’ll be there in no time, promise.”

“... Okay. Be careful.”

You smile against the speaker, slipping a free arm into the suit. “I’ve seen worse, Steve. Over and out.”

Passing the walkie to another officer who places it with your jacket, you slip your other arm into the suit, duck your head as they place the SCBA over your face and zip you up.

A new radio has been supplied for you and the rest of the team going in. As you turn to leave the tent and enter the scene, Dustin’s voice comes through the walkie on the chair.

“I knew it!” He crows, “I knew you were his angel!”

“Dustin,” Steve scolds, words slurring, “Knock it off man, she’s working.”

_

Dustin and whom you can only presume to be Mrs. Henderson are slumped on the chairs in Steve’s room at the hospital, completely passed out. Tiptoeing in, mindful not to wake them, you perch at the foot of the bed.

Steve is sleeping, chest rising and falling with his steady breaths. The hum and beeping of the machines are the only sounds in the room. He looks awful, his left eye beaten black and swollen up with blood, hip lip split and bleeding. They’d cleaned him up and bandaged what they’d could, according to the attending nurse.

All that’s left to do was for him to heal and rest. The tests would come back tomorrow, there was a concern for head trauma— a concussion, but he should be discharged the next morning.

You thumb at the jewelry on your left hand, unused to the ornamentation. Figured the easiest con was to pass yourself off as newlyweds, allowing you to sign his discharge papers and take him home when the time came.

“That’s new,” He rasps, head lolling to the side as he looks at you. “Who’s the lucky man?”

You crack a smile, “Oh, just some guy. Don’t worry, he treats me real nice.”

“He better,” His hand falls to your leg, grasping your thigh. “If he knows what’s good for him.”

It’s new, this thing between the two of you. Too soon to put any sort of name to it, and this is certainly not the time, nor the place. His thumb traces patterns against your thigh, nail scraping against the fabric every so often. You remind Steve that he should be resting right now and he tells you the same.

“Counter offer,” He says when you won’t budge, “I’ll rest if you lay down with me.”

It’s easy to grant his request. Slow hands smooth away the hair from his forehead, slides the sheet off his damp shoulders, growing warm with perspiration. You have to be delicate. Don’t want to startle him any more than he already is.

“Glad you’re here.” He says, hooking one hand under your back and turning you over until his front touches yours. You place your chin on top of his head, press kisses to his hair. Your hand grips his in the dim light, letting him know that wherever you are, his words are reaching. He squeezes back gently, head settling against your chest.

A sniffle. A shudder. A shiver as goosebumps break across his arms. Steve’s not entirely awake anymore— eyes sliding back shut, sleep’s grip too strongly clamped down. It had been an exhausting few days— rigorous missions heavy on your mind and body, torture and drug-induced interrogations wreaking havoc on his.

A tug to pull the covers up, encasing his body inside the cocoon and kissing his brow. Tender. Sweet. Pouring what little claim you had to a soul into it. Not even a week with Steve, and it’s mended the cracks inside you, pieced you back together better than before.

It’s gone past midnight now. Somewhere inside the second hand of liminality— not quite sleep and not totally awake, the weight atop your chest leaves. Where it was once perched and heavy, crowding the breath inside your lungs, choking the peace from your brain.

“Everyone sleeps.”

He sounds worried— but you’re not quite sure. He sounds far away.

You lean closer and close your eyes. “Evil doesn’t sleep, Steve�� And neither do I— or so they say.”

“Hush.” There’s no bite in his retort. Only a breath of a laugh.

You sigh, the weight of the week taking over suddenly now that he’s near. Something about him. Soothing. Soft fabric settles over your shoulders and wraps around your arms. Then, a hold. Secure. Safe.

Warm, like a fire. Tender, like a lover.

“C’mere, honey.” Deep. Low timbre and sonorous. It runs up your spine and beckons oblivion.

There is darkness and a soft touches. He’s blue and gold in the dim light, holding you by the hand. A stroke of a finger across your cheek. “Even angels rest.”

October 11 1985

The impala idles in the Hawkins High parking lot as you wait for Eddie. It’s a Hellfire night, so you’ve brought a well-worn paperback to pass the time. The van is out of commission currently, waiting for parts to come in at the body shop. And Steve’s working the closing shift tonight with Robin. Thumbing the pages, you turn to a dog-eared page and begin to read.

Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood

Clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather

The multitudinous seas incarnadine,

Making the green one red.

“Psh, get in line buddy,” You scoff, so taken with Macbeth’s unraveling, that you didn’t even see the double doors of the school burst open, the Hellfire members streaming forth.

Eddie saunters over with Henderson, Wheeler, and Sinclair in tow, chain clinking against his thigh rhythmically. Head turning at the sound, your lip curls into a smile as he opens the door and slides in the passenger seat.

“Hi,” He greets, hand falling to rest against your thigh while the kids pile into the backseat. “D’you mind dropping the gremlins off? Already told ‘em not to touch anything back there.”

“Not at all.” You chirp, earning a quick squeeze to your leg. “Just, uh, buckle up, I guess.” You turn to glance back as you reverse from the parking spot, catching Henderson’s curious gaze falling to Eddie’s hand at your thigh. “And if you see anything rolling around back there, no you didn’t. Capiche?”

The three boys nod, eyes wide and darting to the floorboards.

Ignoring Dustin’s eyes burning into the back of your skull, for now, you elect to drop him off first. Sending him down the sidewalk to his house with a perfunctory wave, your lips pulled in a straight line. That could be a problem.

Mike and Lucas are relatively quiet in the backseat as you drive through the suburban neighborhood streets. They’re polite and grateful, mumbled thanks and goodbyes from each as they shut the door and fumble for house keys. You wait until each has entered the house and given Eddie a wave before maneuvering to Loch Nora.

“Dustin’s getting suspicious.”

Eddie’s fingers flex against your thigh, thumb rubbing circles against the warm denim. But he says nothing, just uncomfortably clears his throat and taps his foot in time with Metallica’s “Creeping Death.”

Your hands grip the steering wheel, turning from one sleepy street to the next. It’s route memory by now, navigating back to Steve’s. If pressed, you could probably find your way blindfolded and dropped at any point in Hawkins. You knew that Eddie and Steve kept their distance in your absence, both unsure of how to proceed without you there as a buffer.

They get on well enough, if a bit haltingly. The boys starting high school this year brought them into each other’s orbit, but your presence cemented it, a red string fit for three. Not that it was exactly discernable to the naked eye, more of a feeling than anything. A steadying pressure against your left ring finger, cording you to them and them to you.

And, subsequently, them to each other as well.

It’s not something you’d personally encountered before, but there were murmurs and vague mentions of it in the forgotten texts. Whimsical notions at the whims of pulp romance authors and film executives, the basis for any romance worth its salt.

You kill the engine after pulling into the driveway, hands finding his before he can bolt.

“Hey,” You say, finger curling under his chin to lift his gaze. “I know this… arrangement isn’t the easiest.”

And his eyes, so wide and wet, stare back at you skeptically. Lacing your fingers together, you open your mouth to continue.

“It’s uh,” Eddie interjects, worrying his lip between his teeth, “It’s not hard for just me.”

You blink in response.

“Steve and I,” He continues, “We talk about it. Not much, obviously.” He sighs glancing toward the front door. His palm is damp against yours, eyes dart from your gaze, narrowing as they settle on Harrington as he shuts the door and walks toward the impala.

He leans agains the door, forearm slung against rolled down window. “Hey, thought we were doing dinner.”

Glancing from Eddie to Steve you let out an indignant huff. “Change of plans,” You turn the key in the ignition and rev the engine. “Get in, loverboy.”

Clearly your attempt to protect Steve and Eddie had failed in disastrous fashion. Sure, you could blame a myriad of things, your ridiculous work schedule, for one. But at the end of the day, it all fell on you really. If you had just taken the time to talk to them, maybe some of this tension could’ve been avoided. Or at least resolved.

But no, you didn’t do any of that. So instead, it festered.

Leaving hurt feelings on all sides and an increasingly jealous set of boyfriends. Just fucking peachy.

Pulling into a clearing of the forest on the outskirts of town, you kill the engine and stomp out the car, pine needles trampling under your boots. Fisting the lapels of your trenchcoat your chest heaves, mind racing to find the words and tone that could explain this mess away.

Two car doors thud in the distance, lowered voices in conversation as Eddie and Steve walk further into the clearing.

What is going on?

Don’t look at me, man. Fuck if I know.

The guys stop walking a few paces away, sharing confused looks and shrugs as you continue further on.

It would be as easy as a flick of the wrist, but still there was hesitation. You hadn’t slipped up in years, centuries at this point, and never of your own volition— the orders had come from on high.

To reveal yourself for what you truly were would be— well, there wouldn’t be any going back after this. No greeting St. Peter at the pearly gates or whatever schlock they spouted now.

Judging the distance safe enough, you turn on your heel, slowly, always slowly so as not to startle. It was like wading through molasses most of the time, but something you had grown used to in your time among them.

The mortals, that is.

Seeing them across the clearing you steel yourself for the fallout. And you know, for all the tales of your kind the world over, it never failed that one person would fail to heed the warnings.

In their hands, you’d left Steve and Eddie with torn scraps of cloth and instructions to cover their eyes until you said otherwise.

Dusk was quickly falling. The once overcast blue sky receded into remnants of seafoam green and teal. There was no breeze; the air felt thick and humid as it coated their lungs with each inhale. It was also silent - no crickets or birdsong accompanied the evening.

The air around you stills, the sounds of the clearing— birdsong, subtle wind, chirps and chitters from the edges of brush— all of that falls away.

You cough lightly to clear your throat. “Wrap the cloth around your eyes, secure it tightly,” you instruct, “Otherwise, the light will blind you.”

Eddie huffs in agitation, “What the fuck are you talking about?” The strip of cloth remains in his hand as he bristles, “Some of us have things to—”

“Eddie.” Steve’s voice is low in warning before he moves to wrap the cloth over his eyes.

The temperature plummets drastically as the wind begins to howl. You monitor the storm clouds now crackling with lightning and rolling through the sky at an uncomfortable pace. Taking a tense breath in, they pause inhaling the tangy scent and taste of newly forged metal - sharp and pure at the back of their throats.

And with that, you slough the mantle from your shoulders.

Their bodily response is both sedate and swift in coming. Temporal reality feels as if it is both being stretched agonizingly apart and contracting back together too quickly. A demanding rain begins to fall but the droplets evaporate before falling to the ground - all too hot and cloying but the air is somehow refreshing and cool.

Eddie is sick, vomit splashing onto the ground and just missing their feet. Steve feels an acrid bile rising its way up their throat and makes an effort to stifle it.

The crackling lightning intensifies, all of which is your doing, and through a cloudbreak a white burst of flame appears. A monstrosity, really, stories tall with a white-hot heat as it lands in the clearing. A swath of the field is scorched beneath the beaming tower of flame.

An energy reverberates throughout their chests - a constant buzzing hum that defies all reason. A sniffle emanates from Steve, the cloth around his eyes bleeds with the precipitation of his tears - why he is crying he could not say as he stumbles to his knees; a shortness of breath that Eddie hasn’t dealt with in years comes upon him as he staggers to the ground.

“BE NOT AFRAID.”

A buzz, a sound, a feeling, an innate knowledge.

What was once a furious beam of white-hot flame has transformed into a divine being: six pairs of wings, countless phosphorescent eyes, stories tall, bedecked in arrays of gold and billowing white. The voice - if you can call it that - is soft as a lover’s caress but harsh and cacophonous at the same time.

“YOU HAVE CALLED.”

Every blaspheme, exalted prayer, cursed assemblage of words, tear strewn plea; they had all been heard. The odds had been weighed. There had been agreement. And here was the answer.

“YOU HAVE BEEN DEEMED WORTHY OF AID.”

A boom of thunder and the apparition vanishes.

Eddie rips off the bandage from his eyes and glances up to find a winged body fallen right where you’d been standing, scorch marks in a charred circle around you. He rises quickly and breaks into a run, Steve not long behind. He drapes his jacket over your prone form. Mindful of the enormous dove gray wings, he scoops up your lax figure and turns.

Eddie, who can’t seem to stop the silent tears as they track down his face, is the first to speak, “W-was that an…” he trails off, not wanting to shatter the illusion.

Before he can step forward Steve stops him with a hand to his shoulder - holding him in place. “This isn’t possible,” he mutters before growing in confidence, “That literally should not happen.”

Steve sighs and claps Eddie on the shoulder, “Welcome to the club buddy, we’ve all seen things that shouldn’t happen.”

“Is she bleeding?” Eddie asks from the backseat, your head resting on his lap.

You’ve been out cold since the clearing, as silent as the grave.

It’s more than a little unnerving.

Steve takes charge because Eddie can’t string more than a sentence together before going silent in shock.

He’s driving the impala back to his house, taking the back roads and speeding as if he could outrun the devil. He takes a moment to glance back, eyes going from Eddie’s cow-eyed stare to your limp body and back again.

”I dunno, is she? Can you staunch the flow with something?”

Eddie grabs the black bandana from his back pocket and gently turns you on your side.

Dull splotches have seeped onto the backseat, four to be precise. Eddie gently dabs the fabric at the four open wounds seeping a golden fluid. He clears his throat and glances up to meet Steve’s gaze in the rearview mirror.

“Harrington, I think we have an issue.”

Steve hums in assent and punches down on the gas pedal.

A soft groan falls from your lips as Eddie sets you down on the couch in Steve’s living room. His bandana is covered in this golden fluid, which he can only assume is something akin to blood. Modesty be damned because the wings are proving to be quite the problem, you’re gently turned onto your stomach so they can inspect your wounds.

The first appears at the nape of the neck, followed by the sprouting of two wings, further down three identical wounds lie all equally spaced and of the same size. They’re minor enough to clean and bandage. “Ichor,” Eddie guesses, as Steve returns with the first-aid kit.

Steve takes a step forward, “Eddie, the wounds need to be attended to first,” he says cautiously.

Nodding to Steve Eddie moves to the side. Allowing him to get out the gauze and bandages. He places a tube of neosporin to the side as well. Together they attend to the wounds, applying the salve and bandages as best they can before sitting back on their heels.

Eddie swallows audibly.

”Got any beer Harrington?”

Steve snorts and does one better. He claps a hand on Eddie’s shoulder before rising and disappearing into a room just off the entryway, only to return with two glasses and a bottle of bourbon.

”Atta boy,” Eddie says, taking the bottle and opening it. He ignores the crystal glasses and takes a pull before handing it off to Steve.

With a deep sigh, Eddie begins: “She said we had called; what does that mean?”

Steve takes a sip of bourbon and shrugs, “Prayers, I guess.”

Eddie sighs, “Okay, sure. And how are you the expert here?”

He shrugs, “I think I’ve known for a while…” He reclines slightly on the carpeted floor, “I’ve known her for a few years now, but I met her after Barb disappeared. She said she was a detective and asked me a few questions.” He takes another drink. “After she left, I had the worst headache of my life and slept the day away. Woke up with dried blood in my ears.”

The room stills with an uneasy quiet.

“In that… form, I guess, she doesn’t really have a voice as we understand it,” He shifts slightly and leans forward, “Well, they do and they don’t. When we heard her ‘speak’ what did you hear?”

Eddie sighs and grabs the bottle from Steve. “I-I’m not sure,” He relents. “I felt this thing, like a vibration in my chest but I also heard something. Kinda soft, but strong?”

As he explains, Steve nods. “Yes, that’s how it is for me,” He ignores the fact that Munson can hear you as he can, for now. “From what I can tell, humans have adverse reactions to encountering the divine. Crying isn’t uncommon. And you threw up. Their arrival also brings about a natural feeling of supplication: falling to your knees and stuff.”

Eddie remains quiet and stoic as they take turns passing the bottle back and forth.

“How did you know?” He asks softly, concentrating on the amber liquid, “I mean, you’ve known for how long?”

Steve shifts uncomfortably.

“He saw me meditating,” a familiar voice supplies, low and husky from disuse.

Eddie jumps off the floor, out of his skin nearly, wheezing out a “Jesus Christ,” under his breath and brings the back of his closed fist to his lips. He turns, unable to settle his eyes at where you currently laze on the couch.

Two pairs of eyes fall to the form who can now speak. “Well,” You acquiesce, “Meditating is an unfortunate word for what transpired, nearly gave Steve a panic attack I’m sure.”

He smiles and huffs a laugh. “So that’s what that was,” He says, taking a step toward you. “How you feelin’?”

Eddie, having taken in the fact that he’s in front of a bonafide heavenly body, averts his gaze and busies himself with another drink. “So you’re an…” He trails off again.

“An angel,” Steve affirms, eyes not leaving yours.

A cock of your head, “In a general sense, yes.” A roll of the shoulder, flutter of wings.

And with that admission, Eddie killed the rest of the bottle.

Be not afraid, indeed.

You lie low for the next few days, regaining your strength, readjusting to the advent of visible wings.

Eddie ran back home to grab a bag of clothes and to let Wayne know he’d be at Steve’s for the time being. Meanwhile, Steve had tried to warn off the kids and Robin from dropping by, and made up some excuse about having the flu.

Things were quiet.

Steve made sure you were comfortable upstairs and hovered around anxiously, while Eddie remained jumpy and kept his distance.

It hurt and you tried to be brave about it.

More often than they knew, you could overhear Steve’s furtive whispers to Eddie about how nothing had really changed all that much. You were still the same as you’d ever been.

”She could literally kill us, Steve.”

You crouched at the top of the stairs, hidden by the balcony rail as they talked downstairs.

”Don’t be like that man.”

”Like what?” Eddie laughs despite himself, “Realistic? God-fearing? Did you even pay attention in Sunday school?”

”Uh, not really no.”

Eddie sets something down on the table with a bit more force than he’d intended.

”When God wants something done, a punishment doled out or a message sent, d’you know who does His bidding?”

”Angels.”

”Right. And everyone knows the most famous of them all.”

”Are you—“ Steve stops short, seeing a streak of gray on the upper floor. “She’s not the Angel of Death, Eddie. For fuck’s sake!”

”Yeah?” He volleys back, incredulous. “And how are we supposed to know that?”

”Because we know her.” Steve rises from his chair and makes his way out of the room. “She would never do anything to hurt us.”

”How can you be so sure?”

”I just—“ Steve pauses on the staircase, head turned back to face Eddie, hand gripping the railing hard enough to turn his knuckles white. “I can’t explain it man, I just know.”

”Well I don’t.”

A flapping sound, like a whoosh of air distracts them.

Two pairs of eyes, one whiskey-warm, and the other flecked with glimmers of gold and green follow your bumbling footfalls up the stairs, and out of sight.

They turn to each other in the inky blue, and maybe it begins there.

Steve knocked softly on the door as it creaked open, leaving you little time to quell your tear-stained cheeks. Doing your best to wipe them away, you make room for him on the bed.

Sitting at your side, he wastes no time in winding an arm around your hips and pulling you into his lap. Your wings retract ever so slightly, relaxing bit by bit into his grasp.

”Hi,” Steve’s voice had dropped into a low whisper, his thumb worrying along your hip.

A tingle runs down your spine and fans out across your wings and making your body tremble.

”Miss me?”

Your head drops to the juncture of his neck and shoulder, you can feel the tendons flex as he swallows.

”Not just you.”

”Give it some time,” He sighs, “This is new for him.”

His hands fall to rest on your hips before sliding slowly to the small of your back. His fingers caress their way up and down your back.

Shivering, you sit up and rest your head against his. Steve’s lips brush against yours lightly.

“I can hide them.”

”The wings?”

”Yeah, just glamour them like I have been.”

”Honey,” He sighs, breath ghosting along your lips. “I don’t think that—“

”Then what will Steve?” A laugh escapes you. “What can I do to get him back?”

”Eddie didn’t leave,” Steve points out. “For all his… concerns, he’s still here. That has to mean something, right?”

You shift in his lap, his lips grazing along your neck.

”Besides,” He says, voice soft, hands inching up your spine. “They like me.”

He nips at your ear and you lurch forward in a shudder, wings arching as tension coils in your body.

In all your years, you’d never met anyone as unflappable as Steve.

He was consistent, reliable, and easygoing.

But he was also insatiable.

”Okay,” You acquiesce, “That may be true.”

Steve’s fingers brushed ever so lightly along the base of your wings, sending a shudder straight through you.

Emitting a low whimper you move to draw back, to distance yourself because it shouldn’t feel like this, so wildly arousing.

”C’mon angel,” He cajoles, “It’ll help you relax.”

”Yeah?”

He presses a kiss to your temple, fingers tracing gently along the delicate bones and plumage, “Promise.”

A warm heat was gathering in your pelvis from his ministrations. It felt odd to have someone touch a part of you that none other had before. Odd, but not unpleasant.

”We’ll go slow.” His fingers brushed a spot that sent your back into an arch, your hips flush against his own, a gasp falling from your mouth.

Just outside the door, in the shadow of the hallway, Eddie can smell it in the air. A musky salty tang wafting through the air and into his lungs that ignites the kindling of his want.

His eyes ran up and down taking in the scene. The flush of Steve’s face and the sweat beading along your skin, illuminated by a warm yellow glow from the lamp on the side table. Eddie looks at you with a curious expression on his face.

Steve spots him as Eddie enters the room and shuts the door with a soft click. You turn suddenly in his grasp only to see that Eddie has recovered from his former shock and trepidation.

He can see your bare back flanked by gray wings fluttering every so often as Steve drags his finger along them. He’s managed to sidle his way within arms reach, expression growing more intent with each step.

A thrilled shiver slides down your spine at his approach, and you fail to suppress it as Steve kisses you hungrily. Eddie tries to swallow the feeling away but it catches in his throat.

You’re straddling Steve’s thigh and moving against it in slow winding orbits. The underwear sitting at your hips does nothing to keep the arousal smeared between your legs at bay.

Steve only pulls back as you're nearly gasping for air, trailing hungry kisses down your neck and jaw. Eddie’s eyes drop to the gleam at Steve’s thigh, how your slickness catches the dim light.

He’d watched you go earlier, cursing his stupid mouth as Steve trailed after you, feeling guilty and shitty for upsetting you.

It wasn’t worth it, he’d decided not long after. Given a choice between having you or losing you, there was no contest— he’d choose you every time.

Eddie shucks his clothes as he crosses to the bed, dropping his shirt, belt, and pants off haphazardly. Each step feels impossible, like quicksand, but he pushes through the heaviness of the room.

Facing him, your face is a mask of confusion, pleasure, and elation. He can see the exact moment that you relax, slumping slightly against Steve as he holds you upright, one hand extended toward him.

”E-Eddie?” His name falls like a tumble from your kiss-bitten lips. There’s a split second of modesty when you realize the state you’re in and move to cover yourself before Steve distracts you by nipping at the curve of your shoulder.

”Figure it out?” He mumbles with a pointedly raised brow in Eddie’s direction.

In lieu of response, Eddie simply lets you tug him down onto the bed before settling at your right, hand curling around your waist. He’s already rock hard, in awe as he watches you arch and shudder under Steve’s hands, hips winding slow against his thigh.

Your brain is positively spinning. Between Steve’s mouth biting and sucking along your neck and Eddie’s hand guiding your hips, you’re about to lose it completely.

Eddie marvels at how lightly Steve works his fingers against your wings, brushing along the undersides of delicate bones and soft feathers. Tentatively, he brings his free hand to the wing closest to him, a single finger stroking downward.

Your eyes nearly cross at his touch and you make an undignified noise lurching toward Steve with such a force that he falls back on the mattress. He grips your hips and moves you from his leg as Eddie’s breath ghosts along your neck. You’re turned around to face him, Steve pressing your back to his chest, the wings trapped between you.

”Hi baby,” Eddie’s husky voice sails into your ear.

You feel so small between them, impossibly so. Vulnerable and exposed in your skin. Steve bites down on your shoulder, and you nearly forget your own name. Too invested in Eddie edging closer to you. His hand trails up your wing in such a way that sends a spasm through your entire body.

A low, throaty moan slips up and out of your mouth as you push yourself and grip his shoulders. He turns his head enough for your lips to brush, his breath fanning out against your skin. His nose brushes yours as your lips descend, his mouth falling open in a harsh gasp.

Kissing Eddie is like coming home.

Warm and sweet, slow like honey.

”You,” He says pulling away, eyes so blown they’re nearly black, “Are the best thing. You’re amazing.”

Steve’s hand squeezes at your hip as your head drops back against him. The tip of Eddie’s tongue traces up your sternum before dropping a kiss at the hollow of your throat.

”Stop,” you say, “That’s not—“

Steve shushes you with a kiss to the top of your spine. “Listen to him angel.”

Deft fingers brush back your hair beginning the frizz in the heat.

“I know this thing between us,” He glances to Steve and back to you, “It’s … unconventional.” Eddie’s finger traces your cheekbones lightly. “And we’re doing our level best not to fuck it all up.”

From behind you, Steve nods in agreeance. His jaw grazing the nape of your neck, fingers trailing at the sensitive underside of your wings.

”And there’s been something we’ve been meaning to tell you for a while now.”

Your fingers still along the band of his boxers, his stomach muscles contract in anticipation.

“We love you,” He whispers, lips kicking up in a smile. “Every single part.”

”And we’ve got you.” Steve adds with a squeeze to your hips.

”That is, if you’ll have us.”

The simple admission lights a fire in your chest as you surge toward Eddie, teeth clacking against his in your rush to get your mouth on him. Steve’s accompanying laughter is a comfort at your back, his hands a welcome anchor at your hips.

There’s a slight pressure at your ring finger, a soft hum in the air as a thin red thread, nearly imperceptible, stitches the three of you together— a fool, a hanged man, and justice.

Eddie’s not sure if he believes in God now, or ever really did, but he believes in this. Thinks that if he had to choose and do it all over again he would, every single time.

But that’s the funny thing about fate, isn’t it?

It’s a relief, knowing that it’s all come down to this.

The soft morning light falls against your skin, warmed with fading vestiges of the autumn sun. Crisp white sheets tangled beneath your legs, a smattering of skin exposed; it was sweet, this tender sensation of thrumming in his veins.

Eddie���s staring.

Committing this moment to memory for the rest of his days; your face bathed in shafts of light relaxed in slumber, body sated warm twisted in an impossible position. His finger traces the knobs of your spine, a gossamer touch barely perceptible; you snuffle briefly and sigh against the pillow.

Steve rouses not long after, a tanned forearm thrown haphazardly over your exposed hip and blinks blearily.

Outlining the faded marks against your back Eddie’s body curls closer to you— three waxing crescents in the golden haze of morning. Steve rubs his thumb against the jut of bone at your hip, he knows nothing of divinity, but he hopes it’s something akin to this: sun-warmed, sweet, and pliable.

A lot like you.

You’re half-asleep, or so it would seem. But you gaze at them now coquettishly from beneath your lashes, all mischief and love— peering at him like a sunbeam through stained glass. Glorious in your benevolence, full of color and life.

This is why they would return to you, time and time again.

Self-admittedly, they know nothing of piety or faith, but they do know this: the slow smile of your pretty lips, dextrous fingers falling from the sheets to reach for them, and the desire to slip beneath your skin to the heart knocking in your chest—

That is devotion.

Sacred.

Holy.

[originemesis]

"creation took 7 days; now watch me fuck it all up in one night"

canon divergent adam / abel // haz.b.in h.o.tel

21 + / mid-low activity / private

ordained and entertained by skeu ; icon templates by cinna! 💜💛

Commission icons by bbglucifer ;p <3 --- > xxx

side blog: vortex @gutstaken

here are some cool people 😎 : @deathinfeathers , @voxistem , @lilitophidian , @cast-you-dxwn , @2ndrib , @atomeyes , @arachn0philia , @drraphaelmd-a @brokendreamscreation , @hlylight , @chasingrainbcws @danger-tits-lute , @hclluvahctel , @bored2deathiswear , @bbglucifer6669 , @

about // playlist // active headcanon // current verses // rules [beneath]

Caard-Esque:

Blog is 21+ for content concerns and mun is 25+ (an old) and will not interact with minors on this blog. minors should technically not follow me here either ~ so, don'tttttt...do that? thanks! if i catch you, you're yeeted to the shadow realm.

Do not follow this blog if you are sensitive to the sensitive topics related to this particular genre. I tag with "content word cw" for the extra wild stuff, but that's about it. adam literally has the highest swear/slur count in the show and he's only in 3 episodes, so be aware of that.

I tend to be private/selective as i get fairly overwhelmed with too much activity. i really get into plots though, and i'll spam the dash with some silly original dick chauvinism from time to time when ive fed my inner gremlins past midnight. That said, I do get easily overwhelmed when I'm following too many people and multi muse blogs in particular can exacerbate this feeling, so if I do not follow back - I might just not be in a good place to atm or I just don't see possible interactions btw our characters. It's nothing personal! ^^

This is a mutuals only interaction blog for my sanity (anons being fine). if i can see plots happening between us, i'll likely follow. but i get overwhelmed easily so please don't take it personally if i don't follow back or follow back right away.

I am not exclusive, but I prioritize my plotted threads and may have some mains/activity based off that as far as my main verse goes. But I will never be fully exclusive and i enjoy exploring different character dynamics. Also multiship is fine, but I am not exclusively here to ship or write suggestive content. My muses have always and will always require plotting and scene chemistry for me to consider writing ship material. In the case I do reblog shippy prompts still feel free to send in ofc! I'll see if I can make it work or not.

If I don't get a follow back within a week or two, if blogs i follow go inactive for up to 6-7 weeks, or if there's just no attempt on either of our ends to connect for an indefinite amount of time - i'll occasionally go through my list and soft block to clean things up. if we ever want to give it a go in the future, the option is there for us to re-follow and resume! i have in the past been made to feel like I'm walking on egg shells in rpcs regarding these matters and id rather avoid it here...im just here to chill, write and leave weird surprises in dms.

I don't like the feeling of being 'collected' so...if you are interacting with multiple of my muses, I ask you have a different dynamic for mine than them. This is just an act of courtesy I also extend to my rp partners. I interact more with folks that have a special relationship with my muse, so it's needed to deep dive into more interesting topics for me. I also do not usually interact w/ other of the same muse cuz I feel like I 'absorb' how others play him and I want to keep my version separated from that. I might give it a shot some times though depending on how it's presented.

I know that Adam is a bad guy. He's insufferable and can push buttons- but I am not him and I dislike constantly feeling like I'm being barraged for his actions, especially since I consider him to be a heavily layered character that should not be shoe horned into a standard 'ok irredeemable and never allowed nice things' box. So- if you honestly hate this character please don't interact. I am here for exploring taboo topics and ways that a flawed character can make others think he's justified, betray them, make people feel COMPLICATED things... I also love torturing my muse and taking the piss out of him, so I don't need people moving in and tying to constantly put him down/ruin his current plots by being god modey or not at least asking me how we should proceed in a power dynamic, or relationships cuz you don't ship what I ship, or find my interactions with other characters 'toxic' and 'not allowed'...let me explore and enjoy what I like on my blog within reason and do talk with me on dms if you don't like how things are going with our muses and you wanna explore other routes. I love to plot and I am very reasonable.

This post/my rules and conditions are subject to change based on what I get up to on here.

[lutawolf]

Hey Luta!

I noticed that you reblogged tgcf post and I was curious! How many danmeis have you read?

Would you consider maybe doing BDSM analysis for any couples you feel that have D/s dynamic? I feel like mdzs ticks boxes.

Tgcf XL and HC are pretty kinky in bed based on author's notes but since tgcf is explicit-smut-free-on-pages I don't think it could be used as an example.

I do miss your D/s analysis a lot and I love danmei so I was wondering whether you would consider doing it. 🌸

Hey Nonnie!

I've read several. I'm currently reading Thousand Autumns. After dropping SVSSS. I wanted to love it because I love all the other work by the author, I mean adore beyond measure type love. SVSSS wasn't one of them though, maybe I'm just not in that headspace, so I'm going to come back and try it again at a later date.

What I really about tgcf and mdzs is that there is actually an element of D/s that is my favorite type. A Dom with another Dom. This is called a sexual submissive though there doesn't have to be sex involved. It just means that the person is Dominate and only submissive, either strictly in bed or strictly in that relationship.

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian are both Doms. Even though we see Wei Wuxian concede to his brother occasionally, he is not submissive to him. However, Wei Wuxian almost immediately recognizes Lan Wangji as the Alpha and even though he terrorizes him like only a SAM Brat could, he knows where the line is, and he isn't ever really trying to Dominate Lan Wangji.

What is fun for me with tgcf is that the D/s element isn't conventional. It's not the pretty and soft-spoken one that is the submissive. I also enjoy that Xie Lian is clueless. Xie Lian doesn't know and therefore can't recognize himself as a Dom. Even though we constantly see Hua Cheng handing himself over to Xie Lian. Not to mention that most characters just naturally follow Xie Lian's lead.

Back to Hua Cheng, though. I can just imagine how many of you are in disbelief, but think about it. Even when Hua Cheng thoroughly disagreed with Xie Lian, he simply followed or went ahead so that he could be of service. He was doing acts of service. Moreover, he sees his life as not his but his Master's, to do with as he so pleases. This is wholly different, from I would die for my loved one, it's the act of utter devotion.

I haven't read the author's notes, but I could see this being a different dynamic in the bedroom.

I'm more than happy to do a BDSM analysis on a book or show, I've just been in that weird ADHD can't decide on things mode. What were you wanting a breakdown on? 💜💜💜

[waterdeep-weavemoss]

I just read your 'Dark Gale'/Just Gale analysis and wanted to say I heartily agree. I have profoundly enjoyed a lot of fanfiction about Gale but I have felt a good portion are missing that darkness. I think somewhat ironically, people are inclined to believe what Gale says about himself as fact when he contradicts his words with his actions constantly. I personally think he refuses to acknowledge that part of himself because it contradicts how he views himself. I think he wants to be viewed as Wyll is viewed. But his own motivations counter that. Love to hear your thoughts, and do you have any recommendations of fics that incorporate more of the darkness. Also obligatory, I love love Gale such that I think all aspects of him should be considered when your character romances him.

Hey anon, thank you so much! It’s so sweet that people like you are engaging with my silly little metas. 😊

I totally agree that people go with what he says and not what he does; I adore him so much, and part of that is because he can be a little mean and sulky sometimes. It’s very human of him. His arrogance is super compelling because while it is earned (being a former archmage) it’s also a mask! He has so much bravado because he just doesn’t believe he’s enough as he is at all. I just went through his act 3 scene in the astral plane last night and my heart went out to him so much. He thinks the only way he can be of value is to be more than human, and that makes him do incredibly questionable things. It struck me how aware he is about the pitfalls of godhood- the lack of feeling, the lack of care, their innate apathy- and yet still in the same breath he desires to be one of them. God!Gale is such a different beast from the mortal man. He has none of the warmth in his eyes, his voice is more impersonal even, his skin is silver. He dehumanises himself completely, and in a completely different way to, say, Ascended Astarion.

God!Gale isn’t evil. He’s just self absorbed and treats Tav kind of like a plaything almost, exactly like Mystra did with him. It’s taken as a given that Tav will be his chosen (in my case, that playthrough he was Tav’s ex and she went with Halsin instead) and that she just couldn’t understand or comprehend what was going on. He’s aloof and cold.

Gale’s deeply insecure, but over the course of his romance you can insist that you just want him how he is, and he says he can live without godly powers, because Tav is everything to him, and he sees that ambition isn’t worth losing that… but it takes so much. Left to his own devices he would ascend and he wouldn’t have enough humanity left to regret it. It takes someone grounding him and validating him to talk him down from it.

I think ultimately his less than savoury actions are born of the abuse he endured from Mystra, never being able to measure up to a literal goddess, desperate to be more than that. He has selfish intentions for sure, but in his heart he’s crying out to be loved and just seen by someone who will understand him as the human man he is, not the god his ambitions push him to be.

In terms of Dark!Gale fics, if I may, my masterlist is here. The first two, Permeate and Possession, are probably closest to that darkness, though I am planning to write more and please do send a request if you have any for me!

I’d also like to open things up to my lovely mutuals: please reblog this with your own fic recs for anon, because in truth I’ve been here less than two weeks and have been writing more than reading!

Thank you my lovely! 💜

[the-witchy-housewife]

｡+*✧ The Basics of Spiritual Safety & Wellbeing✧*+｡

This is an article from my website, The Witchy Housewife. You can read it at the source here or look under the cut to read it here on Tumblr. If you enjoy my work, please consider subscribing (at the bottom of this page) to receive articles as they're posted via e-mail, exploring the shop, leaving a tip, or reblogging this post. I run this all myself, so all support is greatly appreciated. 💜🔮✨

When asked the most important place to begin as a newcomer to the craft, to energy work, or even to simply walking a more spiritual path, more experienced practitioners will often share the basics of their magickal tool cabinet, suggest a bouquet of book titles and YouTube channels, or state plainly that the only correct answer is to let your heart and soul guide you. Only occasionally do I see or hear these types of questions answered with the recommendation to familiarize oneself with spiritual safety and wellbeing prior to diving head-first. But matters of protection, I feel, are one of the most important things to study up on when starting out, and today, I’d like to share my own thoughts and advice on the topic.

Cleansing, Purification, & Banishing

As I define them in my practice: To cleanse is to rid a person, place, or thing of stagnant, unwanted, draining, counterproductive, or otherwise negative energies or entities (though positive energies will often accompany them), to purify is to return a person, place, or thing to its original energetic state, and to banish is to cleanse by authoritative expulsion or removal using an outward-pushing energy. You may find others who define these terms differently or use these words interchangeably, but this is how I have come to define them, each offering their own unique function in my workings. If you are looking at correspondences in my digital grimoire, these energetic properties can be found in items marked as cleansing, restoration, and banishment respectively.

A cleansing may be performed when you find that energies are stagnant, stuffy, or negative. Unpleasant energies like these can be responsible for inviting in equally unpleasant entities, hindering the results of energetic workings, creating a state of mental or emotional discomfort, brewing a heavy tension in the air, or even causing feelings of sickness in those who are particularly sensitive. As such, it is usually recommended that cleansings be performed on a regular basis – especially if you live in a space that is regularly exposed to more negative energies. Some common methods of cleansing utilize the smoke of cleansing herbs (alternatively, a spray), water infused with cleansing herbs, or simply a visualization of brilliant white light – and this is just barely scratching the surface. As with many rituals, there are hundreds of methods of cleansing out there for you to explore, and it is paramount to choose one – or even create one – that works for you. Let your intention – your goal – be your guiding force. As a general rule, if you are putting your intention into it and you are going about it in a way that feels intuitively compatible, you will more than likely see the results you are looking for.

Often, cleansing – similarly to banishing – will result in a feeling of emptiness. You are essentially scrubbing the present energies “clean”, including energies that may be more positive. On the other hand, you may wish to perform a purification, or restoration, of a person, place, or thing if the goal is to reverse any energetic damage that may have been done while still retaining those unique individual energies. For this, you would utilize restorative herbs instead of cleansing ones and focus your intention accordingly. It seems it is common for practitioners to opt for cleansing over purification – and even more common for the terms to be defined as one and the same – but I enjoy having this as a separate option when it is needed. In my practice, this process typically comes into play when I want to remove any absorbed energies from a crystal, charm, or tool but would like to preserve its core energies as much as possible.

Finally, banishment is used when you want to push an energy or entity out of a particular space, and in this case, the original energies seem to remain wholly unchanged. For this reason, some practitioners choose to also perform a cleansing beforehand. Like cleansing, there are many methods of banishment out there that you can give a try, though the most commonly passed-around is the Lesser Banishing Ritual of the Pentagram (or LBRP) of ceremonial magick, sometimes given different flavors for different systems.

Enchanting & Blessing

The emptiness of a cleansing or banishing can feel pleasant enough, but I find that this sometimes allows unwanted energies to creep back in more easily. A blank slate becomes anyone’s game, so to speak. To mitigate this, you may choose to preemptively imbue the space with more intentionally – and typically positive – energies. For this, we use enchantment or blessings. To enchant is to fill a person, place, or thing with intentional (but not necessarily positive) energies, and to bless is to enchant with fresh, positive, and often divine energies.

Enchantment is one of those foundational things that is pretty crucial to get the hang of when first starting out in a magickal practice, and all it entails is focusing on an intention and willing the energy of that intention to fill the person, place, or thing being enchanted. To a beginner, this can be more difficult, which is why it is also important to learn what these subtle energies can feel like to you. Skipping this step can sometimes deter people away from magick altogether. Lady Gravedancer, one of my favorite witches on YouTube, has an excellent video on learning to work with and sense these subtle energies. If this is all new to you, I highly recommend it.

Typically, though, a blessing is more what we’re looking for post-cleansing – positive, even divine, energies that inspire a sense of wellbeing. If you work with deities, you may also like to ask them to bestow their own blessings in your stead or beside you. Otherwise, it’s just enchantment with a wholly positive intention, but if the idea of a blessing feels too religious for your comfort, stick with “enchantment” and don’t let semantics bog you down.

Warding, Shielding, & Cloaking

In all cases, I tend to feel that the energies we’re working through are not being totally destroyed, but are rather either transmuted, deterred, or even just fragmented. In my opinion, it is usually a good idea to follow up your cleansings or banishments with the re-energizing of your wards. To ward is to create an energetic protective barrier around a person, place, or thing as a semi-passive and long-term protective measure, to shield is to create a more short-term ward that surrounds a personal, place, or thing entirely and is envisioned as a bubble, and to cloak is to make a person, place, or thing energetically “invisible” or “irrelevant” to wandering energies or entities so that interests are directed elsewhere. You can find relevant correspondences in my digital grimoire marked as protection, security, and invisibility.

Warding can be thought of as the closing and locking of your spiritual entryway, though it is often done with the intention to protect from more than just matters of the spiritual. I’ve known people to create physical barriers around properties using salt and/or eggshells with protective herbs as a base and visualizing their wards rising from that barrier. You might also like to bury protective crystals at the four corners of the property for that additional kick. But once again, there are so many methods out there that it really comes down to personal preference.

I tend to think of shielding – or bubbling, as some call it – as a more short-term and active form of warding. Shielding is especially useful as an emergency layer of protection when out and about or as an additional layer over your personal wards in outings that you suspect will be energetically taxing. Where wards are thought of as great and powerful walls, shields are typically thought of as entire bubbles surrounding a person, place, or thing on all sides. If you’re an empath like me – which is a sometimes-misrepresented term I’ll get into in a future article – shielding is a good practice to have in your pocket for going out into crowded environments, whether that crowd is physical, as in a theme park, or spiritual, as in a hospital. Whatever visualization you choose to use for warding, your shielding process can tend to be similar, and much of it, again, comes down to the intention. It is often the case, though, that this process takes more energy to conduct, and thus, if you choose to keep up a more permanent shield, it may require more care and more frequent energetic charging than your wards do.

Cloaking is something I don’t see discussed very often, but it can be very useful to consider when you are trying to be energetically off the radar. And obviously, I am not suggesting you go about doing sneaky, unsavory things. Instead, cloaking may be more beneficial for avoiding unnecessary conflict with nosy neighbors, finding peace to work in a coffee shop, or subduing the attention that can come from large-scale energetic workings. And as always, you may choose to hand-pick some herbs, crystals, or other mystical tools for this purpose, but the recommended visualization varies a bit from that typical bright light you may be used to working with. In the case of invisibility, you may choose to envision the person, place, or thing fading out of view or to mentally play the situation at hand out exactly as you wish it to transpire.

Safety Tips for Spirit Work

Certainly, if you plan to do spirit work – a line of spiritual work in which will regularly involve energies and entities completely independent of you – these concepts may be more important to familiarize yourself with than with someone whose only spiritual endeavor is manifesting a little extra spending money every once in a while. Aspiring spirit worker, the following tips are for you:

• As per the point of this article, it’s a good idea to have your preferred protective methods at the ready prior to actively working with spirits. This, of course, does not mean that your methods cannot change over time – but when starting out, you should find a method that is compatible with you and gets you the results you need. Once chosen, try to become familiar enough with it that you can cast it off-book in the event of some sort of spiritual emergency.

• As a spirit worker, you’ll want to cleanse your tools, your space, and yourself very regularly. My preference in my practice is at least once a month and more frequently if I feel it is necessary. Even if you aren’t involved with spirit work, regular cleansings are a good habit to get into, but it is especially important for those inviting a large number of outside influences into their home.

• Get to know your spirit guide(s), and keep them close during any sort of spirit work. I’ve heard from many people who feel that the connection you have with your guide(s) has a sort of solidity to it that can override other communications the moment you ask for it, and I myself have not yet seen evidence to the contrary. If you ever feel uneasy about a communication and are in need of a second opinion on who or what you may be speaking to, ask your guide(s) to come through and communicate with you. Still, as we communicate between realms, discernment is a necessary skill to develop, and having protections in place is always a good idea, regardless of whether you choose to involve your guide(s) or work on your own. If you are completely new to the idea of spirit guides, I do plan to write an article on the topic in the future – but in the meantime, if you’re interested in meeting yours, Lady Gravedancer also has a wonderful video featuring a ritual for communicating with your guides for the first time.

• You may also want to look into the idea of casting a circle (another topic I’ll likely be discussing here in the future). While an entire ritual may not be in the cards for your practice, it may help you to develop some alternative ideas for shielding the space around you during active spirit work. In doing so, you maintain greater control over what is permitted to enter. Afterwards, be sure to say your goodbyes and to close up your circle and any portals you may have opened to avoid uninvited visitors outside of working hours. If you are someone who chooses to always leave your space open to visitation – and some people do – be aware that anything can enter and be prepared for the circumstances that could stem from this.

• If you are someone who allows certain spirits to reside in your home – what I refer to as my “spirit family” – I think it is a hospitable gesture to let those spirits know when you are going to be performing a cleansing or banishing. I can’t imagine that having your energy forcefully transmuted or shoved out the door would be a terribly comfortable thing to experience, so I think of it as a sort of courtesy that exhibits the respect I have for them. This will give them a chance to temporarily leave the space of their own volition while you go through your routine. Alternatively, if you have a special space set up for your spirit family like I do, you may choose to shield that space with the intention for their energies to remain unaffected by the cleansing. I’m not sure that it’s the most perfect method, but it’s one that I’ve found to work well for my spirit family thus far. In both cases, there are those who would argue that this gives unwanted entities a chance to temporarily leave or take shelter within the shield, as well, but I tend to feel that my spirit family would act accordingly to keep our home safe. It is their home, too, after all.

Despite popular Hollywood tropes, working with spirits doesn’t necessarily equate to “terrifying and dangerous” – but this does not mean it is without its risks. And just as you wouldn’t find your way into a dark alley in the middle of the night without some pepper spray, it’s likely not a good idea to invite spirits into your home without compatible defense measures in place.

Safety Tips for Energy Work

Energy work, in general, tends to have the odd side effect of making you a sort of beacon in the realm of the spiritual – and the more you do, the more your energy builds, the more your awareness expands, and the brighter your whole being shines. No matter the level you find yourself at spiritually, the following tips are for you (though feel absolutely free to read through the previous section, as well; the additional knowledge can only benefit you):

• Whether it be through tarot, runes, pendulums, spirit boards, prayer, or some other form of divination you find useful, it is wonderfully wise to seek guidance regarding any workings you do. This practice can help you to avoid unwanted outcomes, to avoid manifesting something you may not truly want, and to uncover exactly what it is you need to add or take away from your workings to bring you the results that you are looking for.

• Keep a journal of what works and what doesn’t in your practice and of any intuitive insights you receive that you feel may be important. Your spiritual path is a deeply personal one, and one person’s experience will likely never be perfectly identical to another’s. There is an abundance of wonderful advice out there. There are many methods out there that work very well for many as-is. But at the end of the day, you must discover what works best for you, even if that is different from the teachings of the majority. Be sure to keep track of it.

• Be mindful of loopholes, especially in manifestation workings. Being too specific can sometimes be ineffective, but not being specific enough has the potential to cause even bigger issues. Manifestation, I find, tends to take the path of least resistance, so when putting your energies out there, you want to be sure your intentions don’t put anyone in harm’s way. Again, divination can be a wonderful source of guidance prior to your workings.

• If you are going to be working with negative intentions of any kind – which is something I don’t advise for a number of reasons, and especially not for beginners – be sure to deep-cleanse yourself and the space the spell or ritual took place in. In addition, it’s generally a good idea to not keep any items used in the working on or near your property. Also know that there are other options, like justice workings, that can be done in place of this. Sometimes when we feel very upset or very angry, we speak or act irrationally and come to regret it later. This can also be true for spellwork, but the results can sometimes be a lot more devastating. Ultimately, I cannot stop you from doing what you feel you must, but at the very least, I hope you’ll think things through.

• Finally, this may seem like common-sense, but don’t let your spiritual practice throw off balance in your life. The realm of the physical has its own value and importance, and that certainly includes your health and wellbeing. If you find yourself neglecting your health, your hygiene, your friends and family, your responsibilities, or your other hobbies, it may be necessary to take a break or dial it back until you’re able to find a good balance.

A Regular Cleansing Practice

You may have already seen this in my article on making the home more magickal, but I thought it would be good to include, here as well. The following are my two most often-used cleansing rituals – one which I perform monthly, and the other as-needed:

My Monthly Cleansing Ritual: I perform this ritual on the first of each month. Any cleansing tools to be charged on the altar should be set at least a day before performing the cleansing. The morning of, weather permitting, open windows and play uplifting music or cleansing affirmations, frequencies, or subliminals of choice. Take a cleansing shower. Clean the home as you normally would. When physical cleaning is complete, use a smoke or spray cleansing blend of choice, walking with intention from room-to-room. Pay special mind to corners and doorways. I like to use sound cleansing – bells, drums, or even snapping your fingers will do – in these spaces to really ensure the breaking up of any “stuck” energies. If you are someone who performs banishing rituals, you may choose to do so now. At this point, I also take a moment to cleanse myself, particularly as an empath. I then tend to my wards by first taking a blessed salt blend around the perimeter of the property, followed by sitting at the center of the property and funneling my own energy into the ward. If you would prefer to instead bless first and ward after, feel free to do so. It is your ritual, after all. Regardless of which order you perform the ritual in, the blessing process may be a deeply personal one, so this is a step I suggest thinking on a bit rather than following to the letter. In my ritual, I use a spray with positive energy-promoting herbs (as well as herbs that may promote the intention I wish to set for the month) and follow up with prayer to my deities. If you’re interested in a more in-depth look at my Monthly Cleansing Ritual, I do have detailed instructions available on my Monthly Blessings Patreon.

My As-Needed Cleansing Ritual: This is essentially a truncated version of my monthly ritual. If the energies are something I’ve tracked in or absorbed too much of, I will take a cleansing shower first. Following this, perform your usual smoke or spray cleansing, focusing especially on any room(s) that may be the most abundant in the energy that brought about this need for an emergency cleanse. You may also like to perform a shorter version of your regular blessing ritual. Unless the situation is really dire, I will generally stick to my spray in this case.

Just to reiterate, all of the information, including these rituals, are from my own practice and my own experience. You must do what works for you if you want to get the absolute best results and the most fulfilling experience. Take what serves you, and leave the rest. Much love and many blessings to you on your journey. Take care of yourself.

[marzegifs]

✨💜 — ( LEE PACE )

BY CLICKING ON THE LINK ABOVE you will find #212 gifs of LEE PACE from VARIOUS INTERVIEWS. These were all created from scratch by me (@usermarze). These gifs are to be used for roleplaying purposes, sidebar images or reaction gifs. If you would like to make these into gif icons or use them for crackship edits, please make sure you credit me either by tagging or linking back to this post. Do not repost this pack or claim any of my gifs as your own. If you enjoy this pack and any of my other packs, please reblog this post or consider giving me a tip or buying me a coffee. Your support is really appreciated! 💕✨

[leviathans-watching]

Helloooooo!!!

I really loved and enjoyed the latest fic about Solomon and being his rival🥺

I'm a sucker for a good "enemis/rivals to lovers" damn

Could you perhaps write a part 2 for it? (If not, then ignore this ask :)🙏)

Maybe Solomon finding the witches that hurt mc and dealing with them and then mc finds out what he did for them? Or maybe Solomon spending more time with mc with the excuse of "protecting them bc obviously they can't" but in truth he just wants to be close to them?

Whatever comes in mind! I love your writing and your ideas 😚🥰

Have a great day/night and a fantastic Christmas!!!! 💜💜💜🥰🥰🥰⛄

rivals au w/ solomon pt 2

includes: solomon x gn!reader (no pronouns mentioned)

wc: .4k | rated t | m.list | pt 1 | pt 3

a/n: he's such a dork, i hope you enjoy lmao. thanks for the kind words and for requesting!! my inbox is closed for reqs atp but you can still leave feedback and chat with me!!

*holding hands out pitifully* reblogs? p-please? OwO

“so, mc,” solomon hums, plopping down next to you like it’s an everyday thing, “which witches were the ones you had trouble with last time?”

“what are you doing here, solomon?” you ask, fixing him with an unimpressed look. “you’re in my seatmate’s spot.”

“not anymore.” he flashes you with a charming grin. “we traded.”

“you…traded.”

“yep!” giving you a smirk, he scans the room. “man, i like this seat, too. the only downside is the person i’m stuck beside.”

“no one’s forcing you to sit here,” you tell him flatly. “so go on, like a good little sorcerer, and get back in your normal seat.”

“aw, do you truly hate me that much?”

“yes.” you don’t even spare him a glance, organizing your papers.

solomon doesn’t bother to hide his chuckle, leaning back in his seat languorously. he can’t really pin down exactly why he’d switched seats with the poor shmuck who’d had to sit with you before, and he doesn’t really try. by the time he’d stopped to consider what he was doing, he’d already sealed the deal with your old table partner. it’s not his fault, really!

ever since you’d showed up at his house on that rainy day, he’s been feeling weird whenever he thought about you. you didn't seem to be affected, which only pissed him off more. damn, you got under his skin in a way nobody else could.

“hey, mc,” he says, reaching over to grab one of your books, “you actually take notes on this crap? it comes naturally for me.”

you snatch the book out of his hands, placing it far out of his reach. the fact that he consistently scored higher than you on exams and tests was a sore spot for you and a point of pride for him, especially since it was always only by one or two points.

“the brothers like to use my notes,” you explain coolly.

“you actually help them?”

“sometimes,” you shrug. “i mean, it’s not like i do it for nothing. it’s all transactional.”

he whistles. “how heartless of you.”

you scoff. “says you.”

as your banter falls into its familiar pattern, he feels a bit better. so what if his emotions were all tangled up when he thought about you? you were still the same old annoying, stuck up, know-it-all mc that you’d always been. so what if his heart started to beat in his chest at the thought fo you, or if he couldn’t look away from your concentrated face when you took your stupid notes.

everything is normal. everything is fine.

then you look over at him, making a what do you want? face, the light falling over your eyes in a way he’s never seen, and he has to look away first, heat exploding across his face.

everything is not fine!

leviathans-watching's work - please do not copy, repost, or claim as your own

[shellsweet]

Hello 👋. This is the 1st time I ask a question. I recently started following your blog after someone reblogged a pic of your oc Alice 💜😍🐢. I spent the past few days searching for all posts about her. I love the background story that you gave her. I love that she's not a Mary sue and that she's raised differently than the turtles since she's not a fighter like Jennika and most versions of Venus which is a fresh background story. The pics with her and Donnie made me squeal of how cute they are 🤩. I just wanna ask if there are pics of Donnie being the lovable dork that he is around Alice? We've seen how badly Donnie acts when he's panicked like when he beheaded the Fugitoid, so I was wondering if he would act the same around Alice at first maybe by non-stop nerd talking about science and complex stuff most people wouldn't understand. My other question, was Alice forced to learn ninja stuff when she started living with the turtles to defend herself or not since it's hard to learn martial arts if you start from zero as an adult? Please forgive me for the long ask, I got too excited 🫣

I’m so thrilled that you like her so much! That honestly means so much to me! I’ve had made up Alice almost 15 years ago now and I’m still enjoying messing around with her character! There is absolutely nothing wrong with kick butt female characters. We can always use more of them and they’re all great! But I’ve always enjoyed characters who rely on kindness as their strength. Which makes it more impressive on Alice’s case, considering her rough start in life. Strength comes from all kinds of places; not just physically.

I think I got a recent sketch of Donnie nerding out about space with Alice I did last summer, but this inspired me to dive into it more because Alice loves listening to his nerdy vents, but it can be a bit hard to keep up with it. She didn’t even know what was above the surface until she met the turtles, so all of this is new to her. Thankfully though, Donnie is incredibly patient!

As for her knowledge with martial arts, I think it’s generally hard for her to pick up on any combat skills. Alice is and was never a fighter. But she definitely learns quite a bit and picks up on a few minor things with stealth, mediation, and maybe some basic defense. The main goal for her would be to avoid the fights if she can.

Thank you so much for your questions! It really made my week!

[queerautism]

I am so stressed out honestly!! Like in the past week or two I had to deal with my powerchair breaking down, stupid energy company sending a collector to my house even though we've had an ongoing complaint with them for months for trying to charge us thousands for gas when they are NOT OUR GAS SUPPLIER, issues with my GP about prescribing my next testosterone dose and issues with the supply of my adhd medication, and paypal just took some money out of my bank account for a payment that was supposed to be cancelled. Just this month my overdraft stopped having an interest free amount so I don't even have the breathing room there.

I paid my last ��80 for an engineer visit tomorrow to check on Rosie, my powerchair. But that's just the diagnostics, and if she needs any actual repairs the parts are not included and I'd have to pay up to ~£500 if she needs a full battery replacement - Which is just money I don't have right now.

She's so incredibly important to me, and I can only be out of the house for a couple hours without her, especially with the current heat we've been getting which just makes my symptoms so much worse and passing out much more likely :/

Asking for money makes me feel like shit, but I don't exactly have any other options. I genuinely don't know how disabled people are supposed to survive in this country with how fucked things are with the cost of living crisis, and I'm usually one of the lucky ones tbh.

If you have any money at all to spare, and you enjoy this blog, please consider sending a little bit over, or just reblogging this post. Anything helps.

Paypal

Cashapp

💜

[theprinxietycompendium]

💜❤️Information Post ❤️💜

Hello and welcome to the Compendium!

Here you will find all things Prinxiety! I'll be reblogging anything Prinxiety foucsed here on this blog for all of your Prinxiety needs!

You are more than welcome to browse the tags here!

Feel free to submit asks about our favourite emo/prince duo! Talk to me about the characters or tag this blog in your favourite Prinxiety posts to get them noticed!

If this blog gets enough traction I may consider crowdsourcing a masterlist of the fandom's favourite Prinxiety fics for those looking for a good read - so make sure to follow and stay tuned if your love these guys as much as I do!

----

----

Blog Tags:

Fanfic: #Pirnxiety Libarary

Fanart, gifsets, moodboards (or any other visual media): #Prinxiety Gallery

Text posts, incorrect quotes, theory posts etc: #Prinxiety Notebook

Asks: #Prinxiety Asks

Submissions: #Prinxiety Submissions

Me yapping: #Princey Posts

Any other posts will be tagged where they best fit.

Please let me know if I tag anything inaccurately!

----

Rules: (these mainly apply for asks/submissions, but please respect them throughout)

Be respectful. Ship hate and harrassment will not be tolerated on this blog, whether that's about Prinxiety or any other ships. Everyone is valid in their opinions, but ship hate/bashing will not be tolerated here.

No NSFW - this blog is a safe space for everyone. Although I, the blog owner, am an adult, this blog is meant for everyone to enjoy this ship.

Keep things prinxiety centric! That doesn't have to be Romantic shipping of course, and content can have other ships, but if you're tagging me in posts/sending asks make sure it's Prinxiety focused. Any other ships present will be tagged accordingly.

No proship content. This blog is not anti, the content just makes me uncomfortable and I'm in this for fun.

Do not try and start arguments over people's headcanons or opinions. That's all they are. If someone sends an ask that you don't like, just scroll past. it's that easy.

Have fun! At the end of it, that's all we're here for!

----

A note from the blog owner:

Hi! I'm Prince/Rowan, any pronuns. My main tumblr blog is @prince-rowan-of-the-forest and I'll probably end up reblogging some of my own content on here, because I can. There's no harm in stopping by and saying hi! I'm very friendly! I'm here entirely for fun, but if something goes wrong, you don't want your post featured on this blog or you have any other issues regarding this, please feel welcome to contact me!

[crisiscutie]

Hihi!! I’m really happy to see you back and been loving and craving yout works ☺️, do you think you’ll be in favor of more mommy darling and son Sephiroth stories? thank you if you consider it!

Hello, anon! Yes, I would be in favor of it, but there are some complications.

Aside from the lack of motivation, it's just that I don't feel very wanted on here, especially due to some nasty interactions I've had because of the works I posted, especially the darker ones like the aforementioned in your ask.

Also, it's just not fun when posting something and watching it drift within the void. Makes me question if the effort of writing it was worth it. And it's been happening more and more often, even with the typical fluffy stuff. The engagement isn't there at all.

At least on Ao3, I know that there are people who are interested and are following what I posted. On here? Aside from my mutuals and some great followers/anons (You lovelies know who you are 💜), it's such an empty feeling when I see hardly anything of note in the "activity" tab. I used to get excited whenever I get an ask in my inbox, but the few asks I get now just treat me like a writing machine.

When I first started this blog, I really enjoyed discussing characters, the AUs, analyzing them or discussing other canon things, and sharing my thoughts on the things I write. Now it's rare to get actual engagement like that. That's why I'm quiet.

Like I said before, it would be amazing to hear more stuff like your favorite Sephy or if you enjoy a certain type of story or darling I’ve written, etc... Just let me hear something, ANYTHING please. The connection and community would be nice, but it feels like the only purpose I have to most is just to be a writing machine. And people don't even have the decency to reblog what they requested.

I wanted something more meaningful for this blog… And I’ve tried, with posts like the ask games, polls, blog updates or the musings, but nothing works.

To end this note, I want to emphasize that most AUs and best works of mine were born out of support and engagement. They were certainly not from silent and/or unappreciative readers. 

And a disclaimer: my vent is not directed at you personally anon, it's a general statement. To reconfirm it: Yes, I would love to do more Mother Darling/Son Sephiroth stories.

[spaceywourm]

Consider this some kinda funny intro post or what not that I can pin, ANYWAYS.

HAIII I'm Wourm. This is my blog where I dump all my Invader Zim junk. Zim and Dib are my blorbos and I never shut the fuck up about them. I also draw sometimes, I suppose.

I ship Zadr but I also like them as friends and enemies because I can enjoy characters in multiple contexts and relationship dynamics, so I will probably reblog zade, zadf, and zadr. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I'm a teensy bit shy, but please feel free to reach out through asks or something if you wanna chat! I'd love to make some friends/moots within the fandom 💜!