#possibly the takes are incompatible.

[magpiesbones]

OUGHHHH WHEN THE WRONG COVER OF THE SONG IS ON A PLAYLIST. OUGHHH

[danthropologie]

nate saying red bull never really considered daniel to replace checo last year because they needed him to relaunch AT which, yeah okay but....will that be the reason they keep him there forever too.

ok but what advantage would there be to keeping him there indefinitely? i can understand keeping him there to launch the new team, i can understand keeping him there the full season to get them established (which would mean mid season swap, especially EARLY midseason swap is unlikely unfortunately 😔), but beyond that???

the only way i could really understand it is if they GENUINELY want two equally competitive teams on the grid, splitting their best drivers between the teams rather than putting them head to head. but there's an inherent risk there when the question becomes: so then who fills the second red bull seat? do you go a known but flop quantity in checo or an unknown quantity altogether in literally anyone else? 🤷‍♀️

[prokopetz]

I think a lot of folks in indie RPG spaces misunderstand what's going on when people who've only ever played Dungeons & Dragons claim that indie RPGs are categorically "too complicated". Yes, it's sometimes the case that they're making the unjustified assumption that all games are as complicated as Dungeons & Dragons and shying away from the possibility of having to brave a steep learning cure a second time, but that's not the whole picture.

A big part of it is that there's a substantial chunk of the D&D fandom – not a majority by any means, but certainly a very significant minority – who are into D&D because they like its vibes or they enjoy its default setting or whatever, but they have no interest in actually playing the kind of game that D&D is... so they don't.

Oh, they'll show up at your table, and if you're very lucky they might even provide their own character sheet (though whether it adheres to the character creation guidelines is anyone's guess!), but their actual engagement with the process of play consists of dicking around until the GM tells them to roll some dice, then reporting what number they rolled and letting the GM figure out what that means.

Basically, they're putting the GM in the position of acting as their personal assistant, onto whom they can offload any parts of the process of play that they're not interested in – and for some players, that's essentially everything except the physical act of rolling the dice, made possible by the fact most of D&D's mechanics are either GM-facing or amenable to being treated as such.*

Now, let's take this player and present them with a game whose design is informed by a culture of play where mechanics are strongly player facing, often to the extent that the GM doesn't need to familiarise themselves with the players' character sheets and never rolls any dice, and... well, you can see where the wires get crossed, right?

And the worst part is that it's not these players' fault – not really. Heck, it's not even a problem with D&D as a system. The problem is D&D's marketing-decreed position as a universal entry-level game means that neither the text nor the culture of play are ever allowed to admit that it might be a bad fit for any player, so total disengagement from the processes of play has to be framed as a personal preference and not a sign of basic incompatibility between the kind of game a player wants to be playing and the kind of game they're actually playing.

(Of course, from the GM's perspective, having even one player who expects you to do all the work represents a huge increase to the GM's workload, let alone a whole group full of them – but we can't admit that, either, so we're left with a culture of play whose received wisdom holds that it's just normal for GMs to be constantly riding the ragged edge of creative burnout. Fun!)

* Which, to be clear, is not a flaw in itself; a rules-heavy game ideally needs a mechanism for introducing its processes of play gradually.

[azurexsnake]

Thinking about Independent cum at 8am like the heathen I am

It’s transparent, gloopy and thick- lightly blue-tinged. It’s slimy almost, like human cum is, similar texture to egg whites, but sticky, leaning towards syrupy. It’s actually kind of pretty and has a more botanical than human flavor. And there’s so much of it. They cum a lot. Like it spills out of you as they’re still cumming 💞

[madeofstardust17]

So what really bothers me about this season was how they reducer every single character to their most basic cliches, when in previous seasons they were so much more than that. Hear me out:

Luther was made into this happy-go-lucky, dumb himbo, when in reality, he's a guy who takes stuff seriously, who does his best to take care of everyone, and has emotional depth. They took that away from him. He's smart, even if they try to make it out like he isn't. They reduced him to just endless positivity and a pretty body (and even that they turned into a joke, giving him an ape body again and ignoring all his trauma related to that).

Diego was reduced to this useless, bitter, suburban dad, who thinks he's owed more than he has. In reality, he was so excited to be a dad. He's a good detective, he's empathetic, he has this sensitivity that he tries to hide but shines when he talks to others. More than anything, he's a provider, he thrives when he has someone to protect, to care for.

Allison has always been a badass, and a good mom. They made that shine, but she was so much more than that. She was complex, and endlessly optimistic, fighting for what was right. She was a good sister, and they made her bitter about that too.

Klaus was reduced to just humor, and not even well done. His little adventures used to mean something for him, and to the plot. They just made him a whore and did nothing for him. The only good thing I will say was that they took his addiction seriously for once. Still, he was useless to the plot, when once he was the key they were all missing.

Five. Oh my fucking God. They did him the most dirty. He would come off as aloof and uncaring, but underneath it, we all understood he loved his family more than anything, that he did everything in his power to protect them. They reduced him to that facade, they made him cold and selfish, willing to hurt his sibling just for his own personal gain.

With Ben, they spent the entire past season making him into this guy who was really rubbish at being the bad guy, who wanted a real family deep down. They reduced him to this asshole who spent the entire season swearing up and down that the umbrellas where not his family.

With Viktor, they tried to make him this cool, confident, independent (apparently womanizer?) dude who gave zero shits about his family. WHEN ALL HE EVER WANTED WAS HIS SIBLINGS' RESPECT. HE WANTED TO BE PART OF THE TEAM. And then they proceeded to make him work??? With his abusive dad???? Who suddenly cared???? And he ignored the rest of his siblings until the last possible minute.

Lila was always the cool, independent, secure woman, who didn't really need a man. They spent two seasons assuring us that she could be on her own just fine, but Diego completed her. He was the perfect person for her, bc he could give her what she craved, a family, people she could rely on. Instead on continuing that, finding a way to balance her family and a job (or something) to let her be something more than just a bored suburban mom, they made her into this insecure woman in her marriage, who just tosses it all aside for FIVE. Who is so incompatible with her that is not even funny.

If you've read this entire rant, congrats, you have my respect.

[txttletale]

honestly i think if there is one art opinion that i vehemently viciously disagree with and think holding it is a sign of like a genuinely incompatible worldview with mine it's "it's morally wrong for a work to feature a trans character's deadname". every time i see that take i get mad. just the apotheosis of a certain type of narrow-minded policing of queer expression in any way that might possibly be challenging for anybody

[highvern]

Green Light

Pairing: Kwon Soonyoung x f!reader

Genre: smut, hint of fluff at the end

warnings: making out, blowjob, ruined orgasm, minor breath play? (hoshi feels his dick in reader’s throat)

Length: ~3k

Note: well here we are again in 2 days later. thank you @gyuswhore for suffering with me for this. this can be read as a stand alone but is much better after reading part 1 below

series m.list: Houdini [s], Yuck [f], Talk [a, s, f], Casual [a, s, f], Mine [s], espresso [f, s]

m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

First dates are something you’re well versed in.

A guise of mindless chatter over dinner, pretending to be interested in the minutia until patience runs thin and someone not so subtly confirms their roommates aren’t home. You know it, you embrace it, and you’ve done it many times.

What you aren’t used to is being tricked into a first date after already getting to the good part.

It’d been a long week of texting that led to teasing another meet up but incompatible schedules and demanding friends kept anything from coming to fruition. 

When Soonyoung asked if you wanted to watch a movie, you assumed it was just an excuse to get you back in his bed without crudely requesting a repeat. It's a Saturday night and well past appropriate hours for anything else. When he asked for your address, you assumed he was already out and was trying to be accommodating. When he said he was waiting downstairs whenever you were ready, you thought he was planning to take you back to his place which worked out because with only ten minutes to prepare, your room resembled a disaster zone you’d rather not have a witness too.

But then he drove fifteen minutes in the opposite direction of his street, and you realize maybe all your assumptions were wrong.

At a red light, the blinker’s rhythm drives you to speak up.

You whip around from the window to face him. “Are you kidnapping me?” 

“I don’t think it counts as kidnapping if you came willingly,” Soonyoung says, turning left when the signal allows.

“That doesn’t matter if you lured me under false pretenses.”

“I asked if you wanted to watch a movie, that's what we're doing.” 

“But your apartment is the other way,” you say like he isn’t aware.

“You know, they have these buildings with huge screens and all they do is play movies there. Really fascinating stuff. Oh, and look! There’s one.”

He pulls into one of the spaces near the back and throws the car in park before exiting without another word. A movie theater. You might as well be on Mars. 

Trailing behind, you stand dumbfounded while Soonyoung pays for tickets and popcorn like this is something normal to do on a Saturday night. For most people it would be. Maybe it is for him. He seems like the date type, even if looks like he rolled out of bed seconds before picking you up. 

You’re wearing sweatpants with nothing underneath for the sake of planting in his lap and watching him fawn over your boobs again, not to sit in a theater for two hours surrounded by whatever weirdos are hanging around this late on a weekend. The thick fabric doesn’t give anything away but you might as well be naked with how exposed you feel. 

Even in the dark, he keeps up the charade; eyes forward, hands to himself except when his fingers brush yours in the popcorn bucket like some corny romcom. He pays attention to the trailers while you stare like you’re witnessing a car crash playout in real time.

When the actual movie starts, Soonyoung lifts the arm rest out of the way, pulling you as close as possible with an arm around your shoulder. He doesn’t even attempt to hide the move in some cheesy stretch, just brings you into the heat of his side like it's normal. You sweat where he presses tight through your clothes. 

You don’t even know what movie is playing except there's some evil guy trying to take over the world while some other guy runs around in spandex trying to stop him and Soonyoung seems to find it fascinating. He’s choosing superheroes over getting laid. If it didn’t bruise your ego you might find the humor in it.

The theater isn’t crowded, not for a Saturday night. Only two other couples sit spread apart in the rows below. They’d have to turn 180 degrees to see you and Soonyoung and even then the high backs on the chairs would hide anything overtly scandalous. 

So you wait until the soundtrack rises to a crescendo just in case anyone becomes alert to your plans. You’ve never sucked dick in public but the idea of Soonyoung struggling to stay quiet while stretching your throat raw is too alluring to ignore. 

And with the way he spreads his thighs, it might as well be an open invitation.

Your hands start at his knee, just the barest amount of weight so he doesn’t scream like a horror movie character. The muscles jump under your nails but not a peep. You don’t even care that you’re staring at Soonyoung head on, completely abandoning the film in favor of watching for his reaction.

A tilt of your chin puts you level with that spot on his jaw you claimed last weekend. There isn’t proof you were there but the way he whined your name from a few harsh rakes of teeth is burned in your brain. He smells great and the warmth rolling of him lulls you further in until your mouth is at his neck.

The barest graze of your lips has Soonyoung jumping but he doesn’t stop you, just curls the arm around your shoulder tighter. Taking advantage, you trail soft kisses in an attempt to make him pliant. 

“What are you doing?” he whispers.

A languid kiss to his pulse. “What does it feel like I’m doing?”

“Like you’re trying—oh.”

The hand at his crotch is snatched away before you can convince him to let you slip beneath the waistband.

“You’ll get us kicked out.”

“Only if you can’t stay quiet,” you argue.

Someone below shushes you two sharpley. You want to throw the bucket of popcorn at their head.

“We both know I won’t.” Soonyoung whispers into your hairline, pinning your hand beneath his against your thigh. “Just wait until later.”

“Seriously?” you scoff.

You’d leave but Soonyoung drove and you don’t want to wait in the cold for an Uber (your bank account doesn’t support the idea either). There is also the promise of getting what you want later that keeps your butt firmly planted in the worn upholstery until the credits roll. You even manage to find interest in the last twenty minutes, and are a little disappointed when the lights come up, only because Soonyoung has been holding your hand, and the stroke of his thumb atop your knuckles isn’t the worst feeling in the world.

When the lights come up and the screen freezes on the final frame, Soonyoung stays planted. Which means you stay planted because where would you go? Something about a post credit bonus scene he wants to see. Maybe he’s into edging.

When the employee tasked with sweeping the sticky, soda stained floors starts circling your row with palpable annoyance, you two finally get up and leave.

“Did you like the movie?” Soonyoung asks, making a face against the cold slapping against your faces as you exit the theater and head to the parking lot. 

“Yeah, it was fine.”

“Next time you can choose,” he says. “Superhero stuff isn’t my thing but I thought it was a safe pick.”

Next time.

Absolutely, under no circumstances, would there be a next time. Because if there is a next time then Soonyoung definitely thinks this was a date which isn’t something you do. Ever. Especially not with guys that may or may not have a tiger fetish. 

You open your mouth to correct whatever silly fantasies are swirling together in his head but stop short. Maybe it's his fingers knotting themselves back between yours or the optimistic smile splitting his face but it feels cruel to crush something so innocent on the asphalt like a cigarette bud under your heel. He’ll figure out your game eventually. No point in racing him towards the conclusion before he’s ready. 

At the far corner of the parking lot, away from any prying eyes or ears, he crowds you into the side of his beat up Jeep. 

“So… it’s later.” His eyes lock on your mouth, eager to indulge in what you offered so readily earlier like you haven’t changed your mind. 

You haven’t but he doesn’t have to know that. 

“Yeah, kinda tired now.” You feign a yawn to hide a smirk at the drop in his features.

“Really?” he drops but tries not to be too obvious. “I can take you home if you want.”

“Yeah, unless,” his ears perk up at the tone. “There's something I should stay awake for.”

There is. It's heavy against your thigh where he has you pinned and makes your mouth water.

Getting into the backseat has you feeling like a teenager again. Clumsy with an elbow bent at an odd angle and your legs tangled as you slip over the center console. The floor is a mess of clothes and other random shit you don’t bother taking a closer look at because Soonyoung’s lap makes a decent seat.

You’re folded in half just to prevent getting a concussion because the roof is low but it's a good excuse to bite along that spot on Soonyoung’s neck that's been tempting you all night. It tastes like satisfaction. 

The cab is silent except for the sound of kissing with too much tongue and all the noises he eagerly supplies like he wants you to make fun of him. Breathy whines and sharp whimpers as he gropes your ass. A hand aids in grinding you against his crotch while the other slips up your sweater.

“You haven’t been wearing a bra this whole time?” he cries.

“Nope,” you hum, nipping at his earlobe to feel his cock twitch against your ass. “Wanna know what else I’m not wearing?”

Something along the lines of ‘I’m gonna pass out’ comes out in a rush as he rushes to discover how wet you’ve been since he picked you up. 

“Oh, fuck.” He groans from the slip of your folds across his fingers. 

“Should have let me suck your dick inside.”

“I know.” 

“Would you have let me?”

“I would have fucked you in that theater if I knew you weren’t wearing panties, good god.” 

A shift of hips lets you pull his cock out from the confinement of his pants. You can’t really see much but the outline with how dark it is, but he’s hard as steel and leaking. Your mouth waters for a taste.

Getting to your knees on the floor proves more challenging than it should. There’s no room so you're forced to balance between kneeling and crouching with a bony knee digging into your ribs. The bathroom would have been far better for this, consequences be damned. Too late now.

“Your car is too small for this,” you say before taking a quick lick at the swollen head peeking through your fingers.

“Never — shit — had any complaints before.”

“Do you fuck a lot of girls in here?” 

He curls in half on the next squeeze, like he might cum already. A reply fizzles on his lips for a few seconds but every time he gets settled to answer you up the stakes; tapping his cock against your tongue until a fresh taste of precum rewards you, raking your nails over his thigh, jerking him off into your mouth. Soonyoung doesn’t blink in fear he’ll wake up and it’ll all turn out to be a dream.

When Soonyoung looks on the verge of spontaneous combustion, you let him speak. 

“Why?” he sighs. It sounds suspiciously like a laugh. “Are you jealous?”

The idea of him fucking other girls flashes a bolt of something in your veins. Annoyance he’s even capable of thinking of anyone else while you’ve got his dick in your hand, maybe. Jealousy isn’t something a guy you’ve hooked up with once should even be able to hint at. 

“Tell me when you’re close.” The playful tease is long gone from your voice. “And not when you’re already cumming or you’ll never see TamTam again.”

Eyes squeezed tight, he releases another harsh groan. This time to the roof because you’re already tonguing against the raised vein on the side of cock. “Fuck, okay. I can do that.”

You swallow him back down easily. Something in his tone stokes the desire to break him; make him cry from getting his dick sucked in the back of his car in an empty parking lot like a loser.  It gets you wetter knowing how eager Soonyoung would satisfy that urge if you bothered asking. 

He squirms when your nose meets the wisps of hair at his base, cock wedge deep in your throat because you like to show off and know he’ll worship the ground you walk on for it.

“Holy shit.” 

One of his hands sneaks along the back of your neck. Just the weight, probably for his own comfort more than anything else. The idea of him fucking your throat makes you clench. 

You tell him as much when you come up for air.

“You can’t just say shit like that.” Soonyoung moans with a rut through your fist. “Fuck.”

“Why not?”

The innocence in your voice is beyond deceitful. You could probably walk him straight into cumming his pants with words alone. But you wait for an answer while lapping at the tip like it’s candy, staring right up at him through wet lashes. 

“Because,” he winces, hips bucking up from another dig of your thumb. “Your mouth—hmmm.”

You give your thighs a break by rushing up into his space for a kiss. He isn’t shy from taste his own spend in your mouth, hands hot up the front of your shirt once again now that the angle allows. Cruel for the sole purpose of seeing him crumble, you tug off your top and rub his cock against your nipples until he paws at the seat for a crumb of comfort.

“Fuck, oh my god. Where did you—”

He only trails off when you bring his hand to your throat, waiting for him to take firmer hold. You see the light leave his eyes. Mind blank because the offer is too sweet to comprehend. 

You suck him back into your mouth, slowly working down until the curve of his hand circles the bulge in your throat. The odd angle doesn’t lend any comfort but you blink away the dampness at your eyes because Soonyoung is rambling again and its music to your ears.

“Oh! —Oh, shit. That's, wow.” he pants with a gentle squeeze. You aren’t a fan of being choked under regular circumstances but something about how appreciative he is encourages you to treat him with uncharacteristic indulgence. 

“Okay okay, shit, I’m close.”

But not after what he’s put you through tonight.

His hips curl up in a failed attempt as you pull away, desperate to keep the heat of your mouth for a few more seconds to no avail. The only relief you grace him with is a tight squeeze at the head just in case he was closer than he let on. 

You sit up and wipe away the mess of drool and precum from your chin, reveling in the open mouth shock Soonyoung appraises you with. “You can take me home now.”

“But…” he makes a pointed gesture to his cock, soaked and painfully hard in his lap. Maybe you’d feel bad for him, but that's only if he didn’t deserve what you’re doing.

“Call one of those other girls that doesn’t complain to take care of it.”

The drive back to your apartment feels infinitely long in the thick silence. Soonyoung’s eyes are all over your body, probably trying to gauge just how pissed you are. If you give him an inch he’ll take a mile. So you stay quiet and find entertainment by picking at the nonexistent dirt under your nails. 

“Well…this was fun?” Soonyoung supplies as he pulls up to the curb in front of your door.

You don’t even respond. A click of the seatbelt and latch of the door announcing your exit as you beeline for the stairs.

You want to stick to your guns and let him suffer for the comment earlier with blue balls. But you also want to drag him into your room and punish him by proving you’re the best he’ll ever have. You only manage to make it two steps from the car before the latter part wins. 

Spinning around, you throw the door open with enough force to startle Soonyoung. “Are you coming?” 

“Really?” 

“Unless you wanted to go hom—” you turn away. 

“Nope, let's go.” He doesn’t seem to believe the offer. But disbelief doesn’t keep him from jumping up at the offer, cock still straining against his sweatpants and the seatbelt is off with the next blink.

He rounds the hood swiftly, corralling you up the few steps that lead to the front door in haste to finish what started in the back seat. You trip in your own eagerness, lips welcoming his with a lewd lick at the seam that would make your elderly neighbor keel over.

“Soonyoung,” you hum. 

“Hmmm,” he growls into the kiss, pressing you flat against the front door. “Love when you say my name like that.”

“Good to know,” you laugh. “But you left your car on.”

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie

@gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire

@missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @sliceofwoozi @writingbarnes

@dokyeomkyeom @christinewithluv @minwonfairy @idkjustlovingbts @wobblewobble822 @futuristicenemychaos

[ghcstao3]

i can’t find that reverse trope list but no one being convinced that ghost and soap are dating

the fact is just… beyond them. they flirt all the time, they’re always in close proximity, honestly they’ve possibly even kissed in public despite rules in fraternization—yet no one believes they’re dating. not even price or gaz.

apparently they seem “incompatible”—whatever that’s supposed to mean.

soap jokes that the ghost must be incapable as such a thing as romantic relationships. ghost jokes that they must be too straight.

but whatever. if it helps them to stay out of trouble in the long run, then what the hell. even if it’ll take a lot of convincing that they’ve been dating by the time a wedding inevitably rolls around.

[lost-and-ephemeral]

What would the LaD boys do if the reader was sick?

Imagine: Get Well Soon (ft. main trio)

Pairing: Xavier x reader, Zayne x reader, Rafayel x reader (seperate)

Tags: fluff, comfort, you are sick

A/N: as a person with really weak immune system i wish someone would take care of me too

-`♡´- MASTERLIST -`♡´- 

Zayne

"I'm prescribing bed rest for you for the next few days. No objections."

No matter how hard Zayne is trying to hide his concern for you behind a mask of indifference, you could still tell how he feels from his tone.

Either way, you're in the best possible hands.

Considering his job, he can't just leave everything and rush to you. He's got surgeries scheduled. But you can be sure he'll spend all his free time with you until you get better. And if you ask, he can lie down next to you.

He'll take care of cooking and will make sure you take your medicine on time. He may be a little strict with you, but that is only because Zayne really cares about you. You need cold compresses? Give him a minute. You're thirsty because of the fever? He's already brought you a glass of warm water. Hugs? Well, why not, since love is the best medicine.

Zayne is calm and collected, he knows exactly what needs to be done. So all you have to do is lie down and get well while he takes care of you and covers all your needs.

"Sleep. Your body needs to rest so it can recover faster. I'll be here."

Xavier

"It may not have turned out very tasty, but I really tried."

Poor Xavier, being very caring and sweet, is simply incompatible with cooking. Even when it comes to chicken soup. But he'll try for you this time.

Although you ended up agreeing on the fact that he'd just order delivery, rather than accidentally setting your kitchen on fire while trying to cook something else.

He'll try to take a couple days off to stay with you until you get better. Just so he doesn't have to worry about your health getting worse while he's on a mission.

He will make sure you have everything you need, especially a warm blanket. And if that blanket isn't enough, he can always keep you warm with his embrace. No, Xavier is not afraid of getting sick himself, he is confident in his immune system.

Most likely to fall asleep along with you at some point, cuddling you and resting his head on your chest. You will benefit from sleep, and he just needs it to recharge his energy. So it's a win-win.

"Just let me know if you need anything. Don't even hesitate to ask me."

Rafayel

"Don't worry, I won't let this teeny-weeny sickness stop us from spending time together. You'll get better soon under my care."

Rafayel sounds really confident, but he's actually worried. He just knows how to hide it well behind a thick layer of false self-confidence.

And he will never admit that he felt like a lost child for a minute.

Rafayel won't want to leave your side for a single minute and will make the coziest nest in the bed for you. Of course, someone has to go and buy some meds, because it's impossible to find any in the chaos of his studio, so that falls to Thomas.

Poor Thomas.

Luckily, he can cook quite well on his own, so you won't have any trouble with that. In any case, he can always order a delivery too.

Will spend as much time with you as you need and bring you whatever you want. Paintings can wait, he'll always be able to finish them on time. Besides, maybe he'll find inspiration from being with you.

Not afraid to get sick either, so he'll cuddle you 24/7, telling you that comes into his mind until you feel like sleeping.

"See? Told you I can take great care of you."

[alexanderwales]

It's a well-known fact that every elf knows how to sing, but a much lesser-known fact that this is how they reproduce.

Every elf carries within them their primal song, and when two elves align their primal song, an act of raw creation begins. The duet takes as long as a year, and is done in private, typically with both partners in a nest together with all the food and water they'll need to keep up with their song. The form of the new elf is created slowly, first with the bones coming into position, swirling between its two parents, then with muscles and skin following, organs filling into place, and only at the very end, a heart whose arteries and veins grow through the body like hungry vines.

For an elf to find another with a compatible primal song is difficult, as not all of them match, and to sing the entire song takes as long as a full birthing would take. When elves get together, they will sing only distinctive snippets, those most likely to cause incompatibility. This is often done before a crowd of elves, with the singer hoping to hear a response back.

And once a mate is found, the two elves must go carefully over each other's song, making sure that this isn't a false compatibility. Sometimes elves who are young and full of emotion will skip this step and simply go for the birthing song, but elven mythology is full of stories of the warped, twisted, and dead things that can be created when the two songs fall out of harmony with each other long into the recital.

It is possible for a human to sing with an elf, though a human has no primal song. Instead, a human must invent their own primal song, a process that takes an enormous amount of work and can only be seen as a sign of deep devotion and love. If you see a half-elf, know that this is what made them: a human who spent a significant fraction of their life knowing an elf to their core.

[etheries1015]

Obey me x twisted wonderland crossover where MC goes to twisted wonderland from obey me but has their full range of magical powers

Only problem is, they can't really use it.

How would MC feel, hearing over and over about their useless state, when they are infact a rather powerful sorcerer?

pt 2 as requested: Here

Magic in twisted wonderland is managed and flows through mage stones, whilst in obey me magic is by a persons inner nature, and seems to be contained/managed via a wand of some sort (until you become mastered at it, like solomon, who still uses a wand!) Of course there are sigils and and other mediums to be used, however for this scenario, they are dulled thoroughly due to the 1) cut off between worlds and 2) The inability to adapt to a different worlds principles of magic.

Blot just isn't a thing in obey me, MC obviously doesn't have the ability to accumulate blot, so their type of magic is just incompatable with twisted wonderland. So imagine how goddamn frustrating it is when everyone likes to remind MC how magicless they are? And they really don't believe you when you tell them you're actually the apprentice of the most powerful sorcerer in humanity, and can control 7 of the most dangerous demons from your world.

"MC has about as much magical talent as a box of crayons," Ace snorts. He wouldn't be saying that if you just had the power to curse his mouth shut.

"You have no real merits to offer me, not to mention you cannot even use magic," Azul pointed out. If only you could summon leviathan and have him send lotan octavinelles way. They would be sobbing at your feet begging for forgiveness!

And Vil. "You're just about as polished as a sack of half priced potatos!" ...If Asmodeus were there to hear that comment. Vil would get a very analytical lecture about every tiny flaw and detail in his life. Vil would be shattered by the end of it, his pride and what he thought was beauty down the drain.

Crowley laughing at you to your face when you tried to tell him about devildom and where you wish to return. You? A magicless human? Hilarious. Crowley has been through his fair share of "demons" and dark magic, and he definitely did not believe you fit a "summoner of terrifying beings" vibe. If only Satan was there, then Crowley would really understand what it was like to fear something, and regret poking fun at you and taking your concerns so lightly. "If you had the ability to summon powerful demons , how come you are still here?" He mocked you. Of course you had tried, however with the problem being the connection between two completely separate dimensions causing a drift in your attempts to summon any of the brothers, It was nearly impossible. Sigils just did not carry the same amount of magic in twisted wonderland as it did back home.

It wasn't until you held one of the wishing stars (from the "make a wish" event) that anybody began to believe...no, consider your "ridiculous" stories. You held the star to your chest and made your wish of wanting to return home, to which it glowed so bright and cracked. Everyone stared at you as your star shattered, only someone with high concentrations of magic could cause something like this to happen. Since it wasn't powered via mage stone or the need of blot accumulation, your natural traces magic had managed to break the wishing star. Something only someone with a huge pool of magical ability could accomplish, if even.

"I have been trying to tell you guys" you growled, picking up the shattered pieces. Getting over the initial shock of the entire situation, they quickly dismissed it as a faulty star and writing off the strange phenomenon. There is just no way someone such as yourself could possibly hold such great traces of magic that you actually shattered the star, right? They all looked down at you, saw you so much differently, and treated you as such. You didnt belong at that school, and they made it clear. Well.... No matter.

Wait until they realize you finally had managed to successfully contact Lucifer, and they were actively working on your safe return.

And wait until they feel his power when he hears how poorly his little sheep had been treated.

~~~~~

Check out my masterlist for more of my works~

[joequiinn]

When the Wolfsbane Blooms | part ii | e.m. x reader au

Summary | September 1916. Edward Munson is back in Hawkins after 13 years, returning to live with his uncle who serves as groundskeeper to the Talbot Estate. Upon his return it’s as if nothing has changed... except the Talbot daughter, who wasn’t nearly so striking back when they were children. But a strange danger seems to coincide with Eddie’s arrival, and all it takes is one fateful night to expose him to exactly what this danger is…

Tags & Warnings | 18+, angsty horror romance, fem reader, depictions of violence and death, smut and nsfw themes, reader last name for plot purposes, use of some 3rd person narrative, historical inaccuracies

A.N | Thank you to everyone who has shown love for the fic thus far, this has been such a beast to work on, but I love every minute of it! I'm a little biased towards this chapter, so I hope you enjoy it as much as I do 👀

W.C | 12.5k

!! MINORS DNI !!

“... through no fault of your own…”

As planned, you ventured to the gardens post-supper, a book in hand to keep yourself preoccupied should Eddie be delayed. Your father seemed none the wiser to your plans, far as you could tell, unaware of your lilac dress in need of a cleaning, unaware of your evening rendezvous to come. As had become habit as you grew older, he visited the library for brandy and a cigar following your evening meal, and you went off to read either by the fire or on a bench amongst the rose bushes.

It was a comfortable existence, the one shared between the two of you, albeit also a lonely one. Your father was certainly capable of affection, but he was never good at showing it; for a man with a whirlwind of emotions constantly present in his eyes, he had the irritating habit of keeping them all to himself. He showed love and care from a distance, and you couldn’t begrudge him for that, although in your younger years it often left you wondering if perhaps there was something wrong with you.

For your entire life, it was always just the two of you and the half-dozen staff of the house - you never knew your mother, and your father was entirely disinterested in the prospect of ever taking another wife. In fact, it seemed as if sometimes he was fearful of the idea, as if there was some unseen danger in taking a new bride. He often seemed too preoccupied for such trivial things as romance, although what could possibly keep his mind so busy, you didn’t know even to this day; managing the estate and businesses was certainly a demanding task, but he’d always had staff and advisors to assist with such things. You figured that it was his emotions that wouldn’t allow him to commit his time to anything else, even something so simple as spending an evening by the fire with his daughter.

What he did make time for, frustratingly enough, was your recent engagement, made purely out of arrangement given your family’s position in society. You’d always known a convenient marriage was expected of you, despite the changing of society, but you’d also always hoped foolishly that you could put it off until you found a suitor on your own. But considering that you were already 24 years of age, the clock of expectation was ticking, and so your father had set up an engagement with a local family of similarly high standings.

The man was fine enough, from a decent family that wasn’t so stuffy that it made you want to rip your hair out. But he was terribly boring, completely and utterly incompatible with your wild ideas and your lust for life. It was evident that he didn’t quite see women as people - they were mothers or wives or daughters, they weren’t meant to have ambitions and aspirations. And as infuriating as that perspective was to you, you nonetheless thought you could at least tolerate such a man once you became his wife - after all, better he be boring than cruel, for boring could be ignored.

But with Edward Munson showing up after all these years away, suddenly you weren’t so confident in your tolerance for boring people.

You knew better than to become swept up in your childhood fantasies, you were logically aware of how silly you were to become excited at the mere prospect of Eddie as a concept. But you just couldn’t help yourself, couldn’t resist the ache you felt for your long-lost friend. Up until today, you admittedly hadn’t thought about him in a number of years; it’s not that he was ever truly forgotten, but you had accepted long ago that you two weren’t going to see each other ever again, and you had to become okay with that idea.

So, to have Eddie turn up entirely unannounced after all this time was a shock to your system, like the sensation of jumping into a freezing lake on a hot day; you were suddenly submerged in the thought of him, having dived in head first like a fearless child.

Now that you had Eddie back, you missed him so deeply, mourned the possibilities of what life would have been like had he stayed in Hawkins with you. And yes, you certainly knew that you were getting caught up in your excitement of finally having him home, but you also weren’t going to deny yourself the joys of his company. After all, it wouldn’t be long now until you were someone else’s wife - you may as well delight in your freedoms while you still have them, especially if those delights were in Eddie’s hands.

And so, you eagerly awaited his company, the sun low enough now that you could no longer read your book from where you sat. You could have moved closer to the house where light shined out through the windows, but you hadn’t been particularly interested in the novel to begin with; all while you’d been staring at the pages, your mind had been elsewhere.

So, you set the book aside and looked about, growing nervous as you anticipated Eddie’s arrival; you suspected that he was waiting until the sun had disappeared entirely beyond the horizon, nervous of being caught alone with you now that you both were all grown up. Since childhood, he’d feared the wrath of your father, especially after the day you two were found in the abandoned chapel - that was a terrifying and altering experience for you as well, so you certainly couldn’t blame Eddie for his reservations.

After that day, your father had never looked upon the boy in quite the same way, had never trusted you with him like he used to. He’d still let the two of you play together, but you weren’t to go beyond his sight, forced to keep to the gardens or the front lawn so that someone may always keep a watchful eye. And then only a short few years after that, Eddie was gone, and although he never said as much, you knew your father was relieved for it.

Something that had stirred your childish fears at the time was how that day at the chapel seemed to coincide with a spike of animal attacks in the area; you began to associate the two events in your mind, foolish as that may have been. The howling of a wolf at night would enter your dreams and turn them to nightmares, where you were trapped in the confines of the chapel and cornered by a monster. For weeks, this wolf seemed on rampage, attacking livestock and even going so far as to harm a few town citizens. But somehow, the animal was never caught.

Eventually, the danger faded away, eventually the attacks stopped and the cries of the animal no longer haunted you. But to your eight year old brain, it seemed the wolf was angered by your trespassing in the chapel, it seemed that you and Eddie had provoked it into such extreme violence; since then, you’d always secretly harbored a fear of wolves.

So, much like your irrational, childish fear of wolves, your father’s anxieties seemed utterly illogical to you. They’d led to disagreements and fights throughout the years, and to this day you never quite understand why he held such resentment towards your childhood friend.

Footsteps upon the stone path caught your attention and drew you out of your reverie; eagerly you jumped to your feet, heart fluttering in your chest with impatience. Although it was perhaps dumb, you ducked into the shadow of the nearest tree, your giddiness prompting you to behave so childishly, as if to make up for the times you two had lost. You listened and waited, hearing the careful steps come closer and closer until they were finally upon you.

Eddie hadn’t spotted you, pausing to pick up your book from the nearby bench, looking left and right in search of you; you held in a laugh as he continued forward, straining his neck as if that may help him find you faster. You ever so carefully tiptoed up behind him, mindful of the way your shoes would click against the path; you had one hand cupped over your mouth to maintain your silence, and once Eddie was finally within reach, you lashed out, quickly pressing your fingers into his sides to startle him.

“Eddie!” You whisper-shouted at the same moment, causing him to jump and exclaim with a harsh hiss, dropping the book he’d just picked up. He whipped around quickly to give you a reprimanding look as you laughed, pressing both hands to your mouth so that you wouldn’t be too loud. The startled furrow of Eddie’s brows made your laughter more raucous, and you doubled over, finding the whole thing far more amusing than it actually was.

Eddie couldn’t help but smile with an annoyed twist to his mouth, setting one hand atop your shoulder as he pressed an insistent finger to his lips, “Shh, I don’t want to be caught.”

You looked up at him through your lashes as you began to calm yourself, although giggles still escaped you as you feigned an innocent look. You gave his chest a comforting pat, your wide grin nearly comical.

“We won’t be caught.” You said with the utmost confidence, holding his eyes to make it clear just how certain of that you were. Eddie shook his head at your antics, but didn’t argue, his eyes sparkling with happiness in the moonlight. He picked up the fallen book, dusting it off carefully before holding it out towards you.

“Yours, I presume?” You smiled graciously, taking the book back and holding it close to your chest. For a long beat, the two of you simply drank each other in, silently admiring one another as if you were both works of art. Eddie cleared his throat, while looking down at his feet, meeting your eyes with a little more care, “Shall we?”

You nodded with a sweet smile, the expression only growing more dazzling when Eddie offered his arm for you; hooking your hand in the crook of his elbow, you gave him a surprised look, “When did you learn to behave like a gentleman?”

Eddie laughed with a dip of his head, the two of you aimlessly walking down the garden path, “Sometime between when I last saw you and now.”

You rolled your eyes at the answer, nudging him lightly with your shoulder. With no smart response, you suddenly found yourself growing nervous, although you weren’t sure why; perhaps you feared having nothing to say? Maybe you worried the silence meant this little fantasy would fall apart already? You bit your lip while glancing up at Eddie’s handsome face, wondering if similar fears weighed heavy on his brain.

“Did you miss me?” You blurted out, drawing his attention back.

“Well, you’re not very polite, are you?” Eddie teased with a snarky grin, which made your ears feel warm. You two were heading in the direction of the hedge maze, as if you both knew that’s where the other wanted to go. Sighing deeply, Eddie looked away from you, “Of course I did, especially that first year. There weren’t many friends to be had when every week we were in a new town… I thought about you often.”

He peeked at you bashfully, your warm smile making him nervous, “And after that first year?”

“I had to let you go.” Eddie shook his head as if the thought of it still upset him, still filled him with regret, “Couldn’t spend every day and night worrying over the girl I left behind.”

The sad way he said it made you smile with longing, recalling the wretched few months following his departure and how difficult that time was for you, “I missed you as well; for a while, life was so dreadful without your company.”

Approaching the maze, you considered all the things that had happened the past thirteen years, wondering how you could possibly catch Eddie up on all the things you wanted to share. You wanted to tell him about the time you dipped your toes into the pond only for a leech to grab hold of you; the time you’d meandered into the garden feeling so lonely that his uncle put a trowel in your hand and taught you how to properly dig up dead plants. Or perhaps of your studies of botany, a passion that always kept you company on quiet days.

A depleting thought crossed your mind then, and you stole a glance up at Eddie’s face in consideration - before things went on any further, before you hurt him or led him on, it was only right to mention your annoying little engagement. Feeling the burn of your eyes, Eddie paused and looked at you curiously, knowing your expressions so well that he knew something was irritating you quite suddenly.

“What, don’t tell me my company already bores you.” He teased with that playful grin, to which you couldn’t help but smile back at.

No, you didn’t want to ruin the moment when it had only just begun. So, you shook your head and gave his arm a light tug, continuing the walk into the hedge maze, “No, you could never bore me, Eddie.”

The two of you entered the cozy maze that you’d memorized together so many years ago; you had spent hours trying to find markers and hints as to which direction to go, running back and forth from the start to the end until the both of you could confidently make it through without any help from the other. You wondered if Eddie could still remember his way through the hedges just as well as you.

He guided you around the first familiar turn, and you smiled to yourself - he could remember that much, at least, even if it was muscle memory. As if he knew what you were thinking, Eddie paused and shot you a mischievous look.

“Did you think I forgot?” He leaned in towards you with a challenging gleam in his eyes; you nodded smally, “We spent countless days playing here together - my mind wouldn’t let me forget this maze even if I wanted to. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve dreamt of it.”

Rising to the bait, you puffed up your chest a little, removing your hand from his arm, “Oh really? Well, in that case, shall we see who can complete it faster?”

Eddie laughed, his eyes spirited and daring, happy to engage in play, “And what is there to win for the one of us that proves victorious?”

Your heart skipped as if the question were provocative; you took a step closer to Eddie, nearly chest to chest as you gazed up through your lashes, whispering with an airy suggestiveness, “Perhaps that’s for the winner to decide.”

“You speak with such confidence - I hope it isn’t going to your head.”

“And you speak with such determination - I’d hate to see you lose.”

The air was tense as you smiled at one another like scheming children, Eddie eventually took a step back while crossing his arms, tongue wetting his lower lip. You rose your chin defiantly, brow arching as you awaited his response. Eddie narrowed his eyes.

“Alright, Miss Talbot.” He uncrossed his arms to reach into his coat and extract a pocket watch, “Let’s see if you’re up for the challenge. I’ll wait for you at the end of the maze and see just how quickly you can manage it.”

You looked between him and the simple silver watch, “And how will you know when to start the time?”

“Do you remember your bird calls?” The both of you nearly laughed at the question.

“I’m rusty, but I can manage. How do you know I won’t cheat the call, send out my whistle when I’m already halfway through?”

Eddie leaned down with a false threat, eyes piercing into yours as he whispered in a risque tone, “I’m trusting you.”

His voice made you shiver with excitement, but you tried to hide it, just as you tried to hide the way you had to take a deep breath to calm yourself, “Foolish.”

“No one’s accused me of being a fool before.” He pretended that he was offended, taking a flamboyant step away from you. You grinned like a cheshire cat, delighting in your banter.

“Then I’m pleased to be the first.” You teased, causing Eddie to narrow his eyes once more.

“Have you grown more troublesome since I left?”

“Oh, yes, I assure you that I have. Now, let’s start the race, Mr. Munson.” You two shared a playful look of disagreement before Eddie began to jog around the hedge maze, following its exterior walls towards the other side.

You waited impatiently until you heard the chickadee call that the two of you used to practice as kids, the sound making you laugh to yourself. Licking your lips while recalling how to properly make the familiar sound, you called back and began a mad dash through the hedge maze, scooping your skirts up into your hands so as not to trip in your hurry. You took the turns tightly, nearly stumbling over your shoes and loose rocks; the dark of the night made the depths of the maze harder to decipher, but your muscle memory kept you in line, determined to win this childish little race you were now in the midst of.

When you’d finally reached the end, you very nearly crashed into Eddie, who managed to catch you as you both stumbled a few feet. You breathed deeply while trying to catch your breath, your wild eyes meeting Eddie’s as you steadied yourself with your hands upon his chest. Eddie smiling widely back down at you.

“I forgot to check the time.” Your face dropped, balking at Eddie in disbelief. But only moments later, he broke out into impish laughter, giving your shoulders a reassuring squeeze as you heaved a sigh of relief and slapped his chest.

“Not funny!” You scolded, although all conviction was lost considering that you were laughing along with him.

“Relax, will you?” Eddie held up the pocket watch, announcing your time to you as he placed it in your hand. With a charming grin, Eddie began the walk back around the maze, leaving you to wait for his bird call once more; you kept the clock face turned up to the sky so that the moon kept it illuminated.

Once the chickadee call met your ears, you kept your eyes trained on the watch, giddy to see if Eddie may possibly beat your time. The seconds seemed to move oh-so slowly since he wasn’t within your sight, and for a long while not even the sound of his footfall met your ears. But then you could hear the scuffing of shoes against stone and you began to grow nervous, worried that he would win this race with no real stakes.

Your time came and went, and a victorious grin spread across your face; moments later, Eddie came bursting out of the maze, stumbling much like you had as he skidded to a halt. You moved to him quickly, the self-satisfied look on your face causing him to narrow his eyes as he steady himself with hands upon knees.

“Don’t tell me you won.” He teased, your grin growing even wider as you took a dramatic, victorious bow, waving your hand graciously towards an invisible audience.

“Disappointment does not become you.” You taunted, to which Eddie rolled his eyes. He took back his pocket watch as if your hand burnt his, melodramatically acting up his dismay with groans and huffs, all the while you giggled at his silly display.

“Well, champion,” He leaned back into your space again, eyes alight with roguery, a wolfish grin on his lips, “what do you demand for your winnings?”

A wicked thought came to you, feeling your cheeks warm and your heart drum frantically, even as you tried to keep a cocky look upon your face. Eddie’s playful eyes were beginning to make you nervous, but you hoped your expression appeared just as spirited as his own, biting your lip to mask your nerves. You tapped your finger to your chin contemplatively, humming as if in deep consideration as you looked about the expanse of the lawns and gardens, anything to keep your eyes turned away from the dark of his gaze.

“I’m undecided.” You stated instead of your true answer, not quite courageous enough to share it. Abruptly, you began to jog down the hill’s slope which led to the lower lawns, full of that same nervous and excitable energy you always had as a child when Eddie was around. It felt a little foolish to act as if you were back to being little ones again, but you simply couldn’t help yourself, needing to let out all the giddy sensations that Eddie had stirred back up in you.

Eddie followed behind you with a call to slow down, catching up quickly and grabbing your arm; he spun you around to face him, his eccentric smile a perfect match for yours.

“We shouldn’t wander so far in the dark.” He insisted as he still held to your arm, looking back up in the direction of the mansion; from here, the hill obscured much of it from view, leaving only the upper floor visible to you.

“The dark holds no dangers to me.” You responded with a rascally tone, as if somehow you were untouchable. To reassure him, you added, “We will not go far.”

You took Eddie’s hand in your own as you continued your aimless trek - the lower lawns were home to less impressive gardens than those directly off the Talbot home, but as the explorer you were, they were always a delight to you. These were not gardens of flowers and exotic plants, but of fruits and vegetables, an orchard of trees with lovely offerings. Your personal favorites were the cherry trees, though they were not in season and, thus, they looked dull; but the apples, however, were truly thriving, growing so large and vibrant and aplenty, so you dragged your companion in that direction.

“Will you be helping with the gardens?” You asked, reaching out your free hand to graze the texture of leaves and apples and bark; the trees here had been growing so long that their branches were like a canopy above you.

“I will be doing anything asked of me - I’m lucky your father has even allowed me to return, given how much animosity he still seems to harbor for me.”

You furrowed your brows with disappointment; neither you nor your father brought Eddie up during supper, and so you had no idea what thoughts he now had about the young man, “You think he still harbors animosity?”

Eddie gave you a serious look, a sadness evident in his eyes even though you two wandered in near darkness; you were thankful for the moon, nearly full, for illuminating your way, “You weren’t there for the… odd conversations we had today; it seems he will never be trusting of me, nor will he ever come to like me.”

“Well, I like you, and that’s something he’ll simply have to live with.” Your tone was stubborn and defiantly and bratty, as if your own feelings could possibly sway those of your father; Eddie gave you a grateful look.

“Just don’t land me in trouble.” He said softly, knowing that even this simple act of walking together was something your father would frown upon, that it could be considered taboo for a woman of your status to be seen alone with a man like him.

You gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, leaning in to him a little to rest your head atop his shoulder with an easy smile across your lips, “Fear not, I won’t cause any more trouble than I usually do.”

Eddie couldn’t help but laugh at that, squeezing your hand back, pressing his cheek to the top of your head, “You are quite capable of stirring up trouble, dove, that answer is not particularly reassuring.”

“I suppose not.” You said with a giggle, delighting in the impromptu term of endearment - Eddie had certainly never called you ‘dove’ before in your youth, but oh, how you hoped he’d continue to say now.

You recalled all the crazy things the two of you had done as children, the headaches you had caused; Eddie had been a troublemaker as well, of course, having dragged you along on many risky adventures that you’d been scolded for later. But now, he seemed far more aware of his station, far more aware of the consequences that awaited adults who broke the rules that children could get away with.

Yes - you reminded yourself once more - you were both grown up now, and could not get away with play and stories the way that you used to. You could no longer be seen together without raising eyebrows, you could no longer laugh and run and joke without propriety being questioned. It was a dismal realization to know that any and all interactions with Eddie would now be scrutinized, by both peers and staff and your father alike. The thought made you sigh with woe, eyes drooping as you considered all the things the two of you could no longer do lest you face the judgments of those around you.

Decidedly, you stopped and turned to face Eddie, who gazed down at you with curiosity. You confidently met his gaze, even as your heart drummed nervously, setting your face into a look of strong resolve; knowing that things were different now, you had to enjoy every single moment together that you could, “The winner has decided the prize she’d like to claim.”

Eddie’s brow rose, a tickled smile befalling his lips at your unexpected announcement, “Has she?”

You nodded, feeling yourself growing cold with anxiety even as your cheeks warmed with bashfulness. Taking a steady breath, you gently placed your hands on the front of his shoulders, watching his eyes glance down before meeting yours with some trepidation; you paused there for a moment to bolster yourself, unwilling to back down, a nervy smile gracing your lips as your eyes softened.

“I want you to kiss me, Edward Munson.”

You felt his gasp rather than hear it, felt the way his shoulders tensed at the softly spoken request; his expression became skittish, his eyes jumpy as they looked about your face for a lie. You held your ground, not shrinking under his gaze or backing down, even as your resolve began to feel shaky, nerves growing in rapid succession.

Your name was a sweet whisper falling off his lips, the sound making you shiver as the moment weighed on you. You stared at him with longing, fearful that he’d reject you, that he’d succumb to the pressures of a society that wouldn’t want you two to be together. But to your surprise, Eddie delicately cupped your cheeks, even as his eyes seemed apologetic and doubtful, looking between yours as if waiting for you to stop him before you did something neither of you could take back.

“I shouldn’t…” He spoke oh-so softly; you shook your head gently in defiance.

“I don’t care.” Your answer was equally small, as if even you feared being caught, “I may not be able to have you amongst society, but when we’re alone, you’ve always been mine.”

Eddie’s eyes dropped to your lips, staring with such longing that you practically melted right then and then. As if he could tell the thoughts running through your mind, the corner of his mouth turned up in that charming grin of his, a huff of a laugh escaping him. And that seemed to be all the catalyst he needed, because in the next breath Eddie dipped his head down to capture your lips carefully with his.

His kiss was so tender and chaste, his fingertips curving a little tighter against your jaw. As a sigh left you, all your nerves seemed to melt away with it, your body relaxing against Eddie’s as your hands trailed up to clasp at the back of his neck. Your lips were timid, as if still held back by the disbelief that Eddie was back after all this time, disbelief that he was here with you and you got to kiss him exactly as you wanted to on the day he left.

Eddie pressed closer to you, deepening the kiss as his hands trailing down your neck, your arms, to your waist; the feel of his gentle touch caused your whole body to spark and shiver, your fingers curling into the hair at the base of his skull as an unladylike sound of satisfaction hummed in your throat. You could feel the curve of his smile against your lips, the way his hands squeezed your waist as if spurred on by your moan, and it only made you want him more.

Assertively and a little clumsily, you pushed against Eddie, practically tripping over your feet as you urged him to back up into the nearest tree truck, the bark scratchy against his shoulder blades though he was far too preoccupied to notice.

Your lips were demanding against his, body flush to him as your confidence mounted, Eddie’s arms warm as they encircled you as if fearful of letting go. Your hands became feverish, tugging at his hair, gripping at his neck, holding tight to his shoulders; you wanted to be everywhere at once, to somehow make up for all the time lost in the span of a single kiss.

Eddie’s tongue was wet against your lower lip, a pleasureful gasp escaping you as you opened your mouth to him, grateful for his arms around you as you began to feel weak in the knees. A primal sound rumbled deep in his chest, a growl that made you tingle all over, that made your hands tighten against him. With his arms holding you tight, Eddie leaned into you in a way that forced your back to arch, practically dipping you in his eagerness. Your chest felt as if it were going to burst open, your heart drumming out an excited tattoo, your limbs tingling with electricity.

But then suddenly a howl cried out from the distance, loud enough and frightening enough to make you gasp while abruptly breaking the kiss with Eddie. You whipped your head out towards the wilderness, Eddie’s nose pressed to your cheek as he attempted to catch his breath. The cry of the animal rang out again, sounding closer and more provoked; your eyes widened as you gazed out towards the north, which seemed to be the direction of the danger.

“It’s alright…” Eddie whispered airily, his breath hot against your skin. His hand reached up to gently cup your cheek again, turning your startled gaze back to him; his eyes were dark and lustful as they stared deeply into yours.

“No…” Your voice was also light with breathlessness, chest rising and falling against his, “That was a wolf.”

Eddie made a face as if confused by your concern; you were reminded in that moment that he’d been away for such a long time.

“I was told there were no more wolves around here.” You started, straightening up although you kept yourself securely pressed against Eddie’s warm body. You spoke a mere inch away from his lips, each word a hot breath against his skin, “They’d been hunted to extinction, supposedly; at least that’s what father told me.”

Eddie smiled, his lips brushing against yours, “And you always listen to what your father says?”

You rolled your eyes, still wondering if you’d hear the wolf’s call again; despite the nervous beating of your heart, you ever so delicately kissed Eddie again, “You know I don’t… but we haven’t seen wolves in years… it seemed they disappeared after you left.”

Eddie’s slight laugh vibrated against your chest, the feel of it helping to settle your nerves, “So, it was I who drew them away from Hawkins?”

You grinned fondly at him, slowly beginning to feel at ease as you pressed your fingers tenderly against his skin, “Now that sounds just like one of your stories.”

“Perhaps it is true,” Eddie started with an eager tone, pulling back from you so that he could grab your hand and begin to drag you through the rows of orchard trees, as if he had a destination in mind that you weren’t privy to. You giggled smally while trying not to trip over your feet, “Perhaps they’ve been on the hunt all this time, and I’m the thing they seek. They followed me across the country, stalking closely, but I’m no easy prey to catch, and I always evaded their grasp.”

Coming to the edge of the orchard, Eddie melodramatically threw his free arm in the air, as if presenting the expanse of the dark woods and the beautiful, bright moon to you, “And so they continue to follow, all the way back home - but the wolves will never catch me!”

The last statement was shouted out into the wilderness as if Eddie were daring the creatures to come to him, and as you joyously laughed, you once again saw the boy who explored nature with you, the boy so fond of telling stories to his adoring audience of one.

But then a wolf’s howl sounded back, and the perfect timing froze you, a chill creeping up your spine as your wide eyes looked between Eddie and the vast woodland nearby. Even Eddie - so fearless just moments ago - looked spooked as he stared into the darkness of the trees, gaze unblinking as if a predator may present itself any moment now. His grasp on your hand squeezed tight as he protectively pulled you closer into his side, a shaky breath escaping him as he waited for the creature to call out again.

“We should go back.” You leaned into his neck so he could hear your whisper, feeling the way he slowly nodded in response. That last cry had been even closer than before, and it made you both edgy. The likelihood of a wolf attack was slim, and for all you knew the sound of its howls were simply echoing to seem near, but neither of you was stupid enough to risk it.

So, you both cautiously backed up a few feet before Eddie spun you around, quickly escorting you back through the orchard, up the sloping hill, into the garden that lined the entire backside of Talbot Manor. You didn’t stop until you were safely at the edge of the hedge maze, and then further still Eddie dragged you into the cozy confines of its tall bushes. After twisted a few paces into the maze, Eddie finally stopped, looking down at you as if you were a porcelain doll he feared breaking.

In an effort to reassure you both that all was well, Eddie cupped your face in his hands, thumbs brushing lightly along the apples of your cheeks; you stared at each other for a long minute, relaxing now that you were seemingly away from danger. The shine of the moonlight in Eddie’s eyes made you smile contently, and as if he saw as much, he leaned in to capture your lips with his once more.

Eddie kissed you with such ardent tenderness that you feared your knees may buckle beneath you; you lightly hooked your hands on his elbows to keep steady. How could this be so easy, this spark between you two that reignited in no time at all? Was it simply nostalgia that drew you like a moth to a flame? You so desperately hoped it was more than that, that the two of you weren’t just getting caught up in the excitement of Eddie’s return.

You slowly pulled your lips from his, pressing your foreheads together as you buzzed from head to toe. The silence between you two was calm, like a kind of enchantment that you couldn’t help getting swept up in.

But as your breaths mingled, a nagging voice sounded in the back of your head, your conscience reminding you that you were an engaged woman running around with a simple mechanic. Your brow furrowed, wishing you could just send the thought away without a concern, but you knew to be better than that.

You pulled a little further from Eddie so that you could meet his eyes, your expression anxious and somber; it took him a few moments to notice, his own look going from lively to worried as he studied your face.

“What is it, dove?” He asked, thumbs rubbing circles on your cheeks again. You pressed your lips firmly together while swallowing, fighting off your nerves; you knew what needed to be done, even if you didn’t want to be the one to do it.

“Eddie…” You cupped his hands in yours before gently pulling them away, taking a tense step back that caused doubt to flash across his face. You shook your head at yourself with a sigh, “There is something I should’ve told you.”

Oh, how tempted you were to run deeper into the hedge maze, to hide instead of confront the truth and break Eddie’s heart in the process. Your tongue felt heavy now that you had to say those damned words, and as you kept your eyes locked on Eddie, you could see his trepidation, as if he already suspected what you were about to say.

So, you bit the bullet before your nerves could win out again, “I’m engaged.”

You could see the exact moment his eyes dulled and his heart became heavy, feeling instant regret beginning to stir in you. If only you hadn’t said it, if only you could simply whisk that statement away - anything to bring a smile back to his lovely face.

As Eddie’s gaze dropped from you, you took a step back towards him, although you had to keep yourself from gently grabbing him, knowing your comfort most certainly wasn’t wanted right now. Nonetheless, more words spilled out of you, as if that could make things better.

“If I had known you were coming back, I would’ve found a way to prevent this. God, Eddie, if I could’ve just predicted you’d return, I wouldn’t have let this happen.”

Eddie sighed deeply, his jaw flexing; you couldn’t tell what he was feeling, as the look on his face was one you’d never quite seen before. Was it anger or pain or sadness or confusion?

“I’m sorry…” You whispered, unable to look away now that you’ve hurt him.

Eddie bit his lip, keeping his eyes on the ground as if he were still processing this information, his head shaking slightly at all the thoughts that must have been going through his mind. Unexpectedly, he whispered back with hoarseness, “I’m sorry, too, dove.”

Your brow furrowed as Eddie met your eyes again, his gaze appearing black in the darkness, which made him nearly frightening. What did he have to apologize for, he wasn’t the one who hurt you, after all.

The corner of his mouth pulled up, although there wasn’t any amusement to the expression, “I shouldn’t have come tonight - I gave us both too much hope.”

“But you are not the one who kept a secret.” You replied apologetically, “You are not the one who demanded a kiss and then broke the other’s heart.”

Eddie stared at you for a long, tense beat, “You’re right. And yet, somehow, I feel as if I’ve landed you in trouble once again.”

Your lips parted, but you didn’t make a sound, looking between Eddie’s eyes as you still tried to figure out what was going on in his mind. A weak, distressed laugh left you, a sound of disappointment as you tried to center yourself.

“Were we simply getting caught up in all of this?” You vocalized the fear you’d held the entire night, the fear that maybe your guileless excitement might fade away and you two would be left with nothing but old memories. Eddie’s stare remained unreadable for what felt like an eternity, and you began to feel antsy beneath his dark eyes.

He took a cautious step towards you, your heart catching in your chest as you watched him carefully. Each step taken made you more nervous, and yet you stayed firmly planted where you stood. You felt static all throughout your body as you waited, a shaky breath passing your lips as Eddie came close and dipped his head down towards yours. For a moment, you thought perhaps he’d kiss you again in spite of it all, but instead his eyes locked with yours, gaze dark and heavy with a depth of emotion that you wished you could begin to understand.

“I hope that this is no folly.” Eddie whispered longingly before straightening up. He backed up from you, his expression growing tender as he drank you in, the confusing weight of all these feelings adding pressure on his mind; once he had put what he deemed a safe distance between you two, he smiled sadly, “Good night, Ms. Talbot.”

And just like that, he walked off, long legs carrying him so quickly that it was almost like a magic trick. You stared at the spot he once stood, sighing with sadness and longing; how you so hoped this wasn't the end of things for the two of you, as it felt they had only just begun.

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Eddie had managed to keep his distance for three days following that night, busying himself with tasks and chores that would ensure he didn’t have to run into you. Assisting Wayne in the gardens, cleaning up the mess of a garage, running into town with one of the maids to purchase goods - anything was better than having to see you and that forlorn, longing look in your eyes.

Eddie was foolish to have assumed that coming back to Talbot Manor would be easy, that he’d be able to fall back into his old routines as if nothing had changed. He’d become so very swept up in you so damn fast that he hadn’t even considered a boyfriend or fiance or husband could be a factor that would keep you apart; why that thought hadn’t even crossed his mind, he didn’t know. But he certainly should have known better than to cave to the excitement you both felt, and yet he had done so anyway.

It was easy enough to stay away from you, but what wasn’t so easy for Eddie was the temptation to watch you when you thought no one was looking. There’d been so many times over the course of these days when he’d spot you meandering the garden while he was out in the field or lazing about the porch while he was in the cottage cleaning up after a day of hard work. The first time it happened, Eddie assumed you saw him too, for how could you not notice him cleaning up scraps in the vegetable garden while you walked the orchard? But you always seemed to be lost in some reverie, and he would get lost in watching the beauty that was you.

After three days of managing this, Eddie thought he’d be okay, that he’d find enough distractions to help him abandon his childhood crush that he was foolish to hold on to in the first place. Doing so meant that he’d have no trouble with Sir Talbot, it meant that you could go into your future marriage without the burden of his feelings on your shoulders. Perhaps all would be well, and the two of you would carry on with your lives as if you’d never seen each other again to begin with.

On the eve of that third day, Eddie was lying in bed when a wolf’s howl caught his attention, the sound strangely enchanting to him. At first, he startled slightly, for the night had been silent up till that point; he waited patiently to see if perhaps the call had woken his uncle, if Wayne was perhaps stirring in the cottage’s single bedroom. But the older man was still snoring soundly, and so Eddie tried to roll over and sleep despite still feeling wide awake.

But the animal called out again, and it filled him with a sense of foreboding. Perhaps it was because he remembered your reaction to the wolf that first night, the confused fear that flashed across your eyes; you had said wolves were supposed to be extinct around here, after all. Eddie allowed his curiosity to win out his logic, rising from the cot and going towards the nearest window, wondering if perhaps he could somehow catch sight of the animal; he lingered and lingered there at the window, but as the minutes passed, nothing happened.

As Eddie turned his back, though, another howl rang out, this time sounding closer than any of the previous ones; it sent a chill up his spine, wide eyes looking out into the night and up at the bright full moon overhead. Why was it that wolves seemed drawn to the full moon, he found himself wondering as he, too, became briefly mesmerized by the beacon of light.

There was yet another cry from the creature - Eddie had grown far too curious why the wolf seemed so damned worked up tonight. Letting this get the better of him, he scooped up his trenchcoat, a lantern, and Wayne’s shotgun, slipping into a pair of shoes and carefully stepping out into the night. He paused on the front step, eyes carefully looking about just to make sure the wolf wasn’t possibly upon him; once he deemed it safe, Eddie began to walk out towards the gardens.

He wasn’t expecting to have any kind of confrontation with the animal, and yet he couldn’t help the compulsion to explore. As he swung a wide berth around Talbot Manor, Eddie glanced up at the windows, drawn to the lights still shining out of a couple of them - one being your room, although he tried to ignore that thought.

The wolf called to him again, Eddie’s eyes roaming across the expansive grounds with a furrowed brow; just like the first night, it seemed the animal was howling from the north, as if it were hiding deep in the woods out there. Why Eddie felt such an impulse to chase after the creature, he didn’t know - it was fruitless at best, and dangerous at worst. But he couldn’t resist this sudden fixation, couldn’t resist the pull of mystery.

So, Eddie wandered, mindful of his surroundings as he went, passing by the flower gardens and the vegetable gardens, down a walking path that led to the Talbot woodland; he paused at the edge of the trees, knowing that he’d be foolish to continue forward. He should turn around, he knew, go back to the safety of the cottage and ignore the lively cries of the wolf; the animal was almost certainly far enough away from the home not to pose any danger. But before going back, Eddie lingered at the edge of the wood, the darkness like a wide open mouth and the trees like sharp teeth.

Movement off to his left caused Eddie to start, inhaling sharply as his wide eyes looked about for a sign of something. He slowly turned in a careful circle, grip tightening on the shotgun in hand; he was comfortable enough with using it, having accompanied Wayne on hunts, but he didn’t want to shoot bullets out into the quiet night if he could avoid it.

A rustle in the underbrush, and Eddie looked back into the dark of the trees; for all he knew, it was just an innocent squirrel or even a deer, but that didn’t stop his heart from beating wildly in his chest. He took steady steps backwards towards the safety of the Talbot property, cautious of his surroundings, mindful of any peculiar sound. Leaves crunched under his feet, each crinkle spiking his nerves; if there were a wolf nearby, would it not have already shown itself, would it not have already lunged at him like the easy prey he’d made himself?

Eddie gasped, thinking he saw eyes somewhere in the shadows, bright and clear and far too level with his to be the height of a wolf. But just as quickly, that hint of light was gone, although the scare was enough to make his blood run cold. He froze for a few tense moments, swallowing as he waited to see if the supposed-eyes would reappear; his gut told him that there was something there within the woods, something that he shouldn’t turn his back on.

But when no strange sounds or sights made themselves known after a prolonged, strained minute, Eddie began to move again, taking long strides backwards. His eyes were unblinking as he continued to stare into the endless dark, hearing the anxious pumping of his blood flowing in the otherwise silence.

And then another cruel howl followed by a frightening snarl sounded from before him, causing Eddie to shout out in fear, tripping over his suddenly frantic feet and falling heavily onto the wet grass. He began to scramble backwards, wide-eyed stare searching the woods in a panic; he wasn’t certain why he felt it, but it seemed that the animal was mocking him, that it had waited for just the right moment to give him the scare of his life.

Pushing himself back to his feet with fraught stumbles, Eddie abandoned caution and ran up the hill as fast as humanly possible; he didn’t care if presenting his back would prompt the wolf to chase after him, he needed to put distance between him and the woods, between him and the dangerous animal. His arms pumped wildly, coattails flying behind him as the lantern swung heavily in his hand; he was almost certain he heard heavy footfall over his shoulder, but he didn’t dare look back.

Eddie practically crawled up the slope of the hill, pushing his legs even harder once he’d reached the upper gardens, daring to glance around as he ran madly past Talbot Manor. With the mansion looming tall and imposing, comforting in its own strange way, Eddie finally decided to shoot a frenzied look behind him - but when there was nothing there following him, he slowed so abruptly he nearly skidded to a fall, his expression bewildered.

Steadying himself, Eddie tried to catch his breath as his eyes darted around in every direction; there was no wolf, no monster, nothing except the creeping evening fog and the ever familiar gardens. Eddie made a strained sound of exhaustion and frustration, spinning in every direction just to make sure he was, in fact, safe and alone; a pathetic laugh escaped his throat as he threw his head back, feeling both relief and confusion in tandem.

He couldn’t have been imagining things, could he? There was most certainly something in the woods with gleaming eyes, there had to have been something chasing him simply to taunt him - he couldn’t possibly have been so confused that his mind made that up. His chest heaved, the air cold enough that he could see his breath, and suddenly Eddie felt another shiver of fear course through him. 

“Eddie!” A voice sharply hissed, causing him to startled and look about himself; with the manor off to his side, Eddie saw you sticking your head out the window, your confusion clear under the light of the full moon.

Your eyes were alight with concern as you gazed down upon the frantic man, the night air gently blowing your hair about your face. Eddie’s face was drawn with fright, eyes wide and terror-struck - it was an expression you hadn’t seen on him since childhood, since that day when you two snuck into the abandoned chapel. You looked at your family’s sprawling property, eyes trailing from the gardens to the woodlands out towards the direction of Hawkins; you saw nothing of alarm, but Eddie’s energy certainly had you spooked.

You returned your worried gaze to his face, trying not to raise your voice too much to draw attention, “What’s going on? I heard you shout.”

Eddie shook his head, still breathing heavily through his mouth as he stared up at you, “There’s something in the woods.”

“The wolf?” You asked, having also heard the creature’s cruel howls; you shivered, worried that perhaps the animal was growing bold, that it was going to start lurking around your home.

“I don’t know if it’s a wolf.” Eddie answered gravely, making your blood run cold. Your distressed gaze once again roamed around, hyper aware of anything that may seem out of place; but there was nothing to be seen aside from an owl flying above the trees.

“Eddie…” Your eyes softened as you stared down at your friend, “… Come up.”

He appeared taken aback by the request, looking at the vines and the trellis and the ornate architecture of Talbot Manor; back in the day, he’d learned how to climb up the side of the structure with ease, using the accents and the lattices as grips to bring him all the way to your window. But, of course, that was when he was a spry young boy; for all he knew, he wouldn’t be able to make that same climb now that he was a man. He gave a shake of his head.

“Either you come up or I come down.” You said firmly; you’d known he’d been avoiding you for three days, and considering the strange circumstances of this evening, you couldn’t do with any more time apart from him.

 Eddie considered your words, looking about himself once more before sighing heavily, carefully stashing his gun and lantern in the nearby bushes. You tried not to smile too eagerly as he carefully looked the wall up and down as if he were planning his climb. Once he started the trek up, you stepped back from your window to grab your robe, uselessly wrapping it around yourself before returning to the window and pushing things out of the way.

You could hear Eddie grunting with effort, and so you stuck your head back out for a moment, nearly surprised at how quickly he was making the climb; you grinned a little at the expression he gave you, a boyish vexed delight.

Eddie tugged himself up and into the room, huffing as he found his footing; you closed the window behind him, leaning your rear against the sill as you contently looked him up and down. Eddie turned to face you, the low light of the room accentuating the planes of his face; you crossed your arms as you carefully looked him over.

“Are you alright?” You asked quietly, eying the mud on shoes, the grass on his coat.

Eddie nodded, “More spooked than anything…”

You bit your lip nervously, pushing off the windowsill and taking careful steps towards him, “You said… you don’t know if it was a wolf?”

An unamused laugh escaped Eddie, who rolled his eyes at himself, “I know that that must sound crazy of me.”

You quickly shook your head, gently setting your hand on his arm, “No, you were scared, that doesn’t sound crazy at all.”

Eddie eyed your hand, the way your fingers carefully squeezed the fabric of his coat. He seemed to deflate a little, dropping his head, “It seemed too big… but if not a wolf, I haven’t a clue what it could be.”

You stepped even closer, placing your other hand on his arm as well, your brow furrowed attentively, “It couldn’t have been a bear, could it?”

Eddie shook his head again, eyes seeming a little glazed over as he recalled the last ten minutes, as he tried to find details in his memory that he may have missed the first time, “Didn’t sound like a bear. But maybe I’m just confused.”

He exhaled deeply, some of the tension leaving his shoulders thanks to the comfort of your presence; for the time being, any conflict between you two was forgotten.

Seeing how confused and tired Eddie seemed, you guided your hands up his arms and to his cheeks, your touch gentle and caring as you two stared at one another, “Maybe you are, but we both know you weren’t imagining things - I heard it, too.”

Eddie looked between your eyes in consideration, searching your expression as your thumbs began to rub comforting circles on his jaw. He leaned into the touch a little, breathing steadily in and out as more of his anxious energy began to melt away. Eddie’s eyes became hooded the longer he stared at you, and at the same moment you were both reminded of the fact that you hadn’t seen each other in days, that you hadn’t spoken since his first night back, that being alone together in your private room was a far more intimate thing than either of you should have allowed.

You dipped your head a little, voice quiet, “You’ve been avoiding me.”

“Can you blame me?” Eddie countered in a similarly small tone, dejection weighing on his shoulders. He was nervous to touch you despite that being the only thing he wanted, nervous to let his guard down again and continue this taboo that you two had begun.

“The engagement wasn’t something I ever wanted,” You continued to whisper, drawing yourself close enough to Eddie so that you were nearly chest-to-chest, “I would’ve happily become an old maid awaiting your return if I had thought it possible, but father wanted to make sure I was cared for should anything happen, and people began to talk about my age as if I was already too old, and--”

Eddie abruptly wrapped his arms around your middle, his lips crashing down on yours like waves upon a shore, a surprised little sound leaping out of you as you tensed up. But just as quickly, you melted into him, kissing Eddie back as if his taste was intoxicating, clinging to his warm body as if fearful of losing him again. His hands upon you were wild and desperate as they squeezed and pressed you close, his mouth hot and wicked as he kissed you as if you were a lifeline.

Your arms snaked around his neck as you kissed him back fervently, your heel lifting off the ground as you moaned into Eddie’s lips. His grip on your body was rousing, his hands feeling every inch of you that he could, memorizing you with his fingertips. It felt an impossible task to break away from him, but you did so abruptly, realizing for a moment that you forgot how to breathe due to the severity of the kiss.

Your noses brushed as you gasped for air, Eddie’s lips close enough that you could still feel them teasing against yours. His eyelashes tickled your skin, prompting you to pull back just far enough to meet his lustful gaze.

“I can’t stop myself around you,” He admitted breathlessly, chest heaving in time with yours, “I have to stay away lest we both end up in trouble.”

“I don’t want you to stay away,” You whispered against his lips, fingers affectionately playing with the hair at the base of his skull, “You were away from me long enough. I don’t care if we’re just being foolish, or if we’re hung up on the past; you’re back, Eddie, and I’m not going to let you go again.”

“Dove…” He muttered the nickname as if it were sacred, “When the time comes that this must come to an end, you better push me away.”

You shook your head smally, firmly grabbing his cheeks again as you stared into his dark eyes, “I’m too selfish for that.”

Eddie chased your lips, capturing them in another chaste kiss, “Then we’re both fools just asking for trouble.”

“So be it.” You kissed him back assertively, longingly, with all that pent-up desire you’d been holding onto for so many years. Eddie breathed desperately, tongue snaking its way into your mouth with an eager groan. You felt like you were on fire as you pressed up against him, relishing in the feel of his body reacting in time with yours, his hands groping feverishly, his hips flush against your own.

Blindly, Eddie tried to guide you in the direction of something, anything that he could prop your body against so he could lavish you; you smiled into the intense kiss as you two tripped over your own feet, your rear finally bumping into your vanity and making everything on top fall over or roll off. You broke the kiss briefly to giggle at it, Eddie’s eyes alight with amusement as he shushed you.

“Be careful.” You whispered with another small laugh, kissing him wistfully as he helped scoop you up so you could sit upon the vanity tabletop. Pressing himself between your legs, Eddie’s hands delighted in the feel of you, pushing your thin robe from your shoulders, fingertips grazing over your bare arms. You shuddered at his touch, back arching, which only urged Eddie to continue to explore you, hands ever so gently drawing an invisible line from your breasts down to your thighs.

He began to tug at the material of your nightdress, fighting with the fabric just so he could expose more of your skin; as your ankles, your calves, your knees became exposed to the air, another chill ran through you. Eddie’s hand ran down the length of your calf, fingers hot and the metal of his rings even hotter, each touch sending you into a frenzy. Pushing the skirt up over your knees, his fingers squeezed your thighs with greed, goosebumps breaking out across your sensitive skin.

Eddie pulled away from your lips to meet your gaze again, eyes hooded and dark as they burned into yours. You salaciously smiled at the lustful look on his face, wanting so desperately to drag his lips back to yours, barely able to contain the hunger you felt for him. His hands continued to squeeze your legs, and when he pressed his hips against yours, you whined at the feel of his erection at your hot center, the layers of clothing between you nearly offensive. The needy sound in your throat made Eddie throb between your legs, and impulsively you rolled your hips against him, watching his eyes practically cross with pleasure.

An eager, breathy laugh left your mouth, prompting Eddie to plant another firm kiss to your lips. You haphazardly shoved at his coat, so he pulled back and quickly dropped it to the floor behind him, hands going right back to your body as if he couldn’t stand being away from you. Instead of returning to your lips, Eddie trailed kisses along your neck, from under your jawline all the way down to your collarbone, inhaling your scent with an animal excitement. Your fingers twisted in his hair, head thrown back as you delighted in the feel of his hot mouth against your skin.

Eddie’s hands returned to your thighs, an annoyed grumble sounding in his throat as the fabric of your drawers kept him from enjoying the feel of your sweet skin. Again, you couldn’t help but laugh airily, delighting in his desperation to touch you, to which Eddie gave you a hungry glare. With a huff, he pushed your skirt out of the way, fingers trailing along to the upper trim of your drawers, assertively tugging them down your legs in one quick move.

A shock of electricity jumped through your nearly exposed body, panting as Eddie tossed the garment aside and returned to you, grabbing your face in his hands and kissing you zealously. You impatiently felt along every inch of his body, relishing in the flex of his muscles beneath your hands, the way he tensed as you dipped your fingers into the hem of his trousers; his erection twitched against your thigh, making you feel hot all over as you moaned.

Eddie drew his face away from you, to which you chased after his lips as if you were starved; he smiled tenderly as he held you back for just a moment, meeting your amorous eyes and searching them. Without having to say the words, his look was a question, seeking the assurance that this is what you wanted; you bit your lip with a small nod, practically throwing yourself at Eddie in your wanton desire to touch and be touched.

As you planted sloppy kisses along his lips and jaw, Eddie fumbled with his pants, knuckles brushing your inner thigh which sent a tingling jolt up your spine. He grabbed your legs, fingers squeezing hungrily into your skin as he tugged you closer to the end of the vanity, causing more items to clatter off as you gasped at being pulled.

Eddie gave you a wicked grin before kissing you deeply, savoring the sensual taste of you. He maneuvered, hips snug between your legs as his cock grazed your inner thigh, so, so close to your entrance that it made you keen; he grabbed himself, knuckles brushing along your folds and sending another chill through you. You moaned into his mouth, lips more insistent against his as you steadied yourself with one hand propped behind you and the other securely holding Eddie’s shoulder.

He broke away from the kiss again so he could look you in the eyes, his gaze sultry and tantalizing as he positioned his tip to press up against you, drawing another lewd, impatient mewl from your mouth. As Eddie eased slowly into your heat, the noise that left your lips was utterly sinful, forcing him to cup a hand over your mouth, his commanding expression utterly provocative as you clenched around him. He held in a groan of his own, the sound rumbling low in his chest once he was hilt deep inside you, the size of him making your eyes roll back with ecstasy, your mouth hanging open in bliss.

Eddie stayed perfectly still for just a moment to compose himself, the sight and feel of you was so damn overwhelming that it made him feel like a virgin all over again. And, god, the way you looked back at him with your body wound tight like that was so erotic, he had to be careful not to wake the whole damn house.

Hand still gently pressed against your lips, Eddie began to roll his hips slowly, pulling nearly all the way out of you just so that he could sink sweetly right back in again and again and again. The desirous sounds of your rapture humming behind his hand was intoxicating, spurring him to move a little bit faster, to push a little bit deeper.

Your hand on his shoulder fisted the fabric of his nightshirt, your other desperately grabbing the corner of the vanity for purchase as you sank lower on his cock. His slow, deliberate thrusts made your eyes cross, your moans becoming more urgent with each push of his hips against yours. Eddie was utterly alluring to watch, lips parted as he moaned, sweat breaking out across his forehead as he tried to be oh-so careful of his thrusts.

Desperate to feel him deeper, you rolled your hips in time with his, causing you both to cry out as Eddie hit just the right spot. The change of angle made him tense abruptly, pulling his hand from your jaw so he could brace himself against the vanity; his eyes burned into you, as if challenging you to move like that again. 

With a haughty look on your face, you did just that, rutting your hips experimentally against Eddie’s, toes curling at the pressure created on your clit. The sight of his brow knotting with pleasure bolstered you, urging you to move faster and deeper, pathetic sounds falling past your parted lips as you threw your head back.

Eddie’s hands grabbed desperately at your hips and thighs, fingers digging so harshly into your skin that it nearly hurt; he began to move his body greedily against yours, his cock somehow burying even deeper into you. He rested his forehead against your cheek, his hips jerking up into yours with more force as inconsolable whines sounded in your throat. He spread your legs wider, pushing your knees up higher, each shift and rut driving you wild as you already began to come undone.

Sweat was beginning to make your skin slick, your ass sliding down the vanity as Eddie’s thrusts became more urgent and feverish. Satisfied groans leapt out of him as he held your body steady, strong hands gripping tight to your hips as you arched up into him. As Eddie shifted one of your legs up even higher, you had to bite your own hand to refrain from shouting out with pleasure, his deep angle making your legs shake and clench around him.

The back of your head bumped the vanity mirror, and you realized then just how much noise the piece of furniture was making, the wood groaning under your weight, bumping against the wall. Were you of sound mind, you would have stopped Eddie, but you were too far gone, gasping and mewling with delight as his cock pumped in and out of your slick heat.

Eddie’s hand reached down between the two of you, fingers wickedly circling your clit as he continued to rut deep inside you, a string of satiated sobs passing between your lips. Your thighs clamped tightly around his hips, eyes rolled into the back of your head as your movements became jerky and desperate, the sensations sparking through your entire being impossible to contain.

You grasped wildly at Eddie’s back, nails digging into his skin, body quivering uncontrollably; he was unrelenting, dexterous fingers eagerly rubbing your clit, cock pumping quickly in and out of you. As your body began to feel like static electricity, his own thrusts became more frenzied, his grunts and moans in your ear growing more feral.

“E-Eddie, I--!” Your mouth moved of its own accord, your attempt at words unintelligible as his hips slapped against your ass, your entire body clamping around him as your climax rapidly overcame you. The fervid whimpering moans falling from your lips were utterly blasphemous, the sound of your satisfaction making it nearly impossible for Eddie to keep it together. His hands held tight to your waist and hips once more, your body shuddering as your orgasm rolled over you in wave after wave.

Eddie could feel the tension then leave your body, his grip becoming even more firm so that you didn’t simply melt off the vanity table. With hungry grunts he thrust up into you, his body unyielding as he used you to reach his completion; a ditzy, satisfied smile graced your lips as you felt his movements become more desperate, his hands becoming more greedy, ready to come undone at any moment.

Eddie hissed through clenched teeth as his hips slapped into you, your orgasm making you so wet for him that it was downright sinful. The rut of his cock inside you became manic with each thrust, his hands clinging so tightly to you that his knuckles were white; he was so goddamn close that he unconsciously whined, the sound making you sigh even as your eyes were still crossed.

Hastily, Eddie pulled out of you, causing you to moan at the lack of him, trying to keep your vision straight so you could drink him in. Eddie grasped his cock firmly in one hand, pumping into his fist as his head dropped back with a string of groans. He came abruptly, his seed spurting between his fingers and onto your exposed stomach, to which you gasped while still trying to come back down to earth. With his other hand, Eddie steadied himself, his weight causing the vanity to lurch a little as he continued to leak onto you, his chest heaving with labored breath.

For a long minute, you two were silent save for heavy gasps and inhales, Eddie’s eyes wound shut as he tried to recover from his orgasm; you watched his face with pining and zeal, savoring in the way his body seemed to shake from the intensity it went through. When finally he looked at you again, his gaze was hooded and dark with yearning, drinking you in carnally; your eyes locked, and briefly you were hypnotized.

Eddie reached out for you tenderly, whispering your name as he brushed his thumb along your lip, his fingers down your neck. You sighed deeply at the tenderness of his touch, eyes fluttering shut. You hummed in contentment, taking a few deep breaths before you met Eddie’s gaze again.

His smile made your heart flutter, the way he studied you made your toes curl; when finally he looked away, it was to scoop up the abandoned pair of drawers that you had long forgotten about. His gaze was amorous as he cleaned up his mess, causing you to giggle a little as if finally the thrill of the evening was setting in, as if you were finally able to wrap your head around what had just transpired between you two.

Eddie helped you sit back up, pulling you into a swift, needy kiss that nearly took your breath away. You pressed your foreheads together, breathing in the scent of each other’s sex, hesitant to speak words for fear that they may somehow shatter the moment. You gently cupped Eddie’s jaw, his own hands bracing against the vanity once again; another giggle hummed in your throat, and you felt the twitch of Eddie’s mustache as he smiled in response.

“It’s a miracle this poor vanity didn’t break.” You whispered hoarsely, your words causing Eddie to laugh as well.

“It certainly did us no favors.” He answered just as quietly. A tranquil beat of silence passed between you two.

“I wish you didn’t have to go.” Your doleful statement was the burdensome reminder of reality - Eddie couldn’t be found here, and you had to go on pretending as if nothing happened. You felt him sigh deeply, breath tickling across your cheeks.

“If only things were that simple, dove.”

“Stay a while longer, at least.” You pleaded, pulling back to meet his eyes, “The night is still young.”

You, of course, had no idea what time it was, although you were certain if you were to look at a clock the hour would take you aback. Eddie shook his head with amusement, as if he’d just thought the same thing, his hands trailing to rest against your hips, where his thumbs rubbed small, comfortable circles into the fabric of your nightgown.

“I’ll stay until you fall asleep.” He answered sweetly.

“Promise?”

Eddie gave you a gentle, doting kiss, “Promise.”

.

.

[PART ONE] | [MASTERLIST]

taglist | @3rd-conchord @ali-r3n @chaoticgood-munson @chaptersleftunwritten @daisy-munson

@duncanhillscoffeecups @eddiernunson @evilunicorns4minions @ilovetaquitosmmmm @jasminelafleur

@lavendermunson @letstevengrantsleep @littlexdeaths @marlena-marlena @mmmunson

@skrzydlak @tenthmoon

[bildads-shoes]

Hot take: A/Cs biggest incompatibility is actually that Crowley thinks driving at 90mph is tame and has an aversion to watching the road while he's behind the wheel, whereas Aziraphale has quite possibly memorised the entire Highway Code word for word and probably secretly checks the Bentley's engine oil level every single week without fail

[loving-n0t-heyting]

The fact that the religious nature of the common palestinian outrage over israeli rightwing threats to the al aqsa mosque—including its motivating force in the oct 7 attacks—gets trotted out as proof of the barbaric anti-modernity death cult islamofascist character of palestinian resistance is infuriating

If one side in this controversy is clearly transgressing aspirational norms of secular pluralism, it is the far right israelis intimating a desire to destroy the al aqsa mosque. "Dont destroy, or threaten to destroy, relics of great religious significance to others with whom you share land" is a pretty central element to these norms. If the objection is simply to the fact that the al-aqsa motivations are religious at all (combined, perhaps, with a "pox on both yr houses" attitude to the israeli religious far right as well), this seems like an appeal less to sensible humane religious pluralism than to fanatical and sectarian irreligious iconoclasm. "You should simply lie down and take it when yr avowed enemies threaten to raze yr holiest of sites, or else yr a lunatic fundie" is a norm possible only by treating religiosity as such as a reason to demote all faithful palestinian muslims to a condition of permanent 2nd class citizenship. There is a degree of secularism seemingly implicitly endorsed here incompatible with thr basics of democracy

[queenoftheimps]

Artistic Expression as a Form of Love: aka Some Meta About Interview with the Vampire

hey guess who spent all of today putting off a really boring work task

So I'm just suddenly just having a lot of feelings about how love is tied to creation in Interview with the Vampire.

Specifically, each character's artistic impulses and what they say about their relationships, and how they use their creative output as a sort of love language.

From the very first episode, we see hints of this. Miss Lilly asks about Lestat's music box, which plays a song he wrote for Nicholas once upon a time, evidence of his love for someone who's been dead for over a century.

He later writes his own song for Louis, 'Come to Me', and Claudia makes the connection explicit while deliberately poking at him -- he wrote a song for each of his true loves, but does one signal love more strongly than the other?

She's being facetious to prod at him, but the show seems to genuinely make the point that we can track each characters' relationships through the art we see them create.

After all, we see it with Claudia herself later -- even before there's any discussion of becoming companions, we can feel Madeleine's compatibility with Claudia in the way she makes dresses for her.

Madeleine dresses Claudia as the grown woman she wants to be seen as, as she really is, even before she fully understands the circumstances of Claudia's age. It's telling that in Madeleine's dying vision, the one that convinces Louis of her love for Claudia, that Claudia is wearing a dress that Madeleine made for her.

By contrast, we see how Claudia is incompatible with the coven in the role that they have quite literally written for her. If Madeleine shows her love by treating Claudia as an adult, the coven shows their lack of caring by creating artwork where Claudia is forced into playing a part that diminishes her.

In turn, we can see Claudia's enthusiasm for the coven tied into her willingness to perform -- she starts off trying to smile her way through the situation, before quickly growing tired of the performance (and, relatedly, the coven itself).

But then again, how does the coven show its real loyalties? Well, with a painting.

We don't know who painted Lestat (Armand, possibly?), but having artwork of him in a place of prominence is pretty telling. But then again, the theater's creation is itself a reflection of art as a signifier of love & bonding -- Lestat suggests a theater to a lonely Armand as a way to regain a family/coven structure, after the last one fell apart.

Which makes particular sense for Armand, the character who most explicitly equates artistic expression with love and understanding. We see him underline it in his own telling of his backstory -- "No one has painted me in over 400 years." He associates painting with being seen and cared for by his maker --

-- and yet we, the audience, can plainly see what a warped, toxic relationship it was from the painting itself : a whitewashed version of Armand's face that doesn't truly look like him.

Hell, we even see Armand's betrayal of Louis in the form of creative expression -- to quote Daniel, "He directed the play!"

His treason isn't just that he sold Louis & Claudia out, it's that he participated in a creation that would condemn them. Artistic expression shows us love and loyalty in this world, yes, but it can also be used as a tool of abuse or betrayal.

Which brings us to Louis, he who has the eye for art but maybe not the skill for it, who never said 'I love you' to Lestat and wouldn't call Armand his companion, who ultimately gives up on creation in favor of becoming a collector.

It's especially interesting that his abandonment of photography is also explicitly tied to the end of his visions of Dreamstat. Even the one photo he takes that garners praise is one he tries taking of Armand & Dreamstat at the same time -- as if the closest he can get to expressing love through creation is something that blurs the lines between both men he has complicated feelings for. (Note that the scene where he develops the photo is directly after the "Show me the only way you know how to love" sequence of Louis bashing some guy's head into a wall.)

Hell, if we want to take it even further, we can even see some of this pretense in the inclusion of the Fred Stein photos (assuming Armand actually did sneak them in). On one level, we can see it as Armand trying to build up Louis' happiness, but on the other, it's him trying to build up the image of their romance.

After all, if artistic creation is a sign of love -- especially to Armand! -- what does it mean if Louis is openly disparaging his own abilities to make anything at all?

Taking it further, what does it say that he and Armand have a collection of photos of various boys over the years and expensive artwork hanging on every wall, but Louis doesn't seem to have taken any pictures of Armand in almost eighty years?

And hey, speaking of fascinating boys: what does it mean when Louis hasn't made anything creative of Armand since the 1940s, but he has no problem writing a book for ten hours with some guy he picked up at the bar?

Hell, writing a book where Louis spends ten hours talking about his life and hasn't even gotten up to the part with Armand yet? The supposed love of his life doesn't even garner a mention, to the point where Daniel didn't even know he existed when he arrives fifty years later.

And what does it mean when that book you never wrote is a giant hanging thread in your life, enough to create a connection strong enough that you remember that guy fifty years later and go back to that writing it? Even over the objections of the love of your life?

Especially when find out that Daniel's entire writing career is sparked in part by inspirational words given to him by Louis -- a sign of their bond withstanding the test of time, enough to make them friends after a fifty year absence.

That said, if we're working with the idea of artistic expression as proof of connection -- especially when it comes to Armand -- then it also makes perfect sense why Armand would insert himself into the interview once he's been revealed.

Then it's no longer about Louis & Daniel, or Louis & Lestat, it's about Louis & Armand and artistic proof of their connection! They're both now creating a story, a book that will include their entire romance! It's the first time that Armand has had the possibility of being an artistic subject in decades, so no wonder he's quick to latch onto it.

Even then, though: I think it's interesting that when Armand is talking to Daniel alone, the first story he thinks to tell him about is his relationship with Lestat. Make of that what you will.

(Also, I've said this before, but I am very curious what Armand's feelings towards Daniel will be after having an entire book written in which he plays a starring role.)

I think that this is all very rich with subtext and possible further progression, especially since we are about to enter a season where a new book is being written by Daniel and there's going to be an entire tour's worth of music being performed, all of it ripe with potential for further relationship nuance.

And while I don't want to wander too far into book spoiler territory, I think this might even neatly factor into a potential Season 4 -- especially since book fans will know that a specific musical performance is the catalyst for a lot of what happens in The Queen of the Damned.

[headspace-hotel]

I've been able to neither read nor write stories in a long time. Poetry too, for the most part. I guess what I mean is that the art of the written word has become a stranger to me.

I hate what poetry classes did to my writing. Yes, the Wikipedia poems, but they are easier because they're not my own words, and I have gotten so many comments on those saying they are powerful pieces of art, but for me personally they're a way of hiding from the awfulness of trying to assemble my own words into poetry.

I hate the poems I wrote in poetry classes. I hate the version of me I showed others in those classes. I hate the way poetry classes taught me to draw from my own experiences and thoughts for poetry. I hate everything I learned about how to interpret poetry, the eye with which I learned to read poetry, and the vocabulary I learned to talk about poetry, and ultimately, I hate "literary" poetry.

"Literary," by the way, is the category of art that has more meaning, value and legitimacy than the "other" category, which is not "literary." A "literary" poem is published in special, fancy "literary" magazines and almost invariably written by a person with a MFA or PhD in poetry.

You could say that the distinguishing feature of "literary" art is its overwhelming sense of legitimacy. A "literary" poem is a poem in the same way that a nonprofit organization is charitable, that a CEO is rich, or that an SAT score demonstrates your academic prowess. It is a poem completely immune to the possibility that someone will think it sucks. It expects to be absorbed, analyzed, studied, and discoursed upon because something feels "official" about whatever designates it as Good Art.

Literary poems are not only written by and for a special subset of people that have been formally taught to read and interpret poetry, they are written exclusively for audiences that will automatically assume they are Good Art; beautiful, meaningful, and worth interpreting. Because of this, most literary poems are literal incomprehensible nonsense.

Just take this one:

Say I climb the ladder of wheat/and at the top there is a faucet dripping beads of water/but the water takes a year to turn into an eagle/and the sky's forty-three shades of gray pierce/the first inflection of my heart, the point where the signals/throw grass into the river. Say the river sags/and the horizon sucks the lance out of the ghost's hands/like the moment of being born, the point where a shadow's/tongue slides through the faultline./Grace. Sunlight, cherries.

(it continues like this)

And conceptually, I love art as collaboration between the creator and viewer, where abstract, indeterminate and murky things are forced to take shape through the participation of the viewer as they interpret and associate things that stand out to them in the work! The "aliveness" of art in the abyss between what the artist attempts to communicate and what the viewer feels is the coolest thing to me!

But this philosophy of art is incompatible with the idea that there is an elite category of art that is worthy of interpretation, analysis, and reverence. I can fuck around with this random word generator and get something that is roughly as meaningful as the above. I don't mean that as demeaning to the poem, I mean that I feel demeaned by the poem, because its linguistic play and experimentation is something that everybody can do, that everyone should try doing, but this poem has been designated as something exceptionally meaningful and worthy and its writer teaches writing at the University of Chicago. You can click through that website for hours and not find a single soul without a MFA or above in poetry or creative writing.

For me, the world of "literary" writing was like a room with a splatter of vomit across the floor that no one else would acknowledge. The ability to formally study poetry in college was a privilege, but I was constantly aware of privilege, and the thing about privilege is the more you have, the less you think about it. What of the ability to pursue a PhD in poetry? What small fraction of people could expend so much time and money on something that didn't really have a career associated with it? And of that fraction, which fraction would be seen as "good enough" to publish poetry books and to teach? With poetry this indeterminate, how were the "good" poets selected at all?

Literary writing excludes poor people, and the existence of published literary poets who are immigrants or minorities doesn't negate this. Increasingly, published writing in general excludes poor people. A LOT of popular authors graduated from very elite schools!

But literary poetry I hate especially, because it puffs itself up on unlocking the universe and human experience and pain, as if insight into those things is a seldom-appearing gift instead of something many people have, except they don't have the time and money to train themselves into expressing it in a way that appears Literary.

The "literary" vs. "non-literary" paradigm had an inescapable rottenness to it. I couldn't stop thinking about the luminous conversations I'd had with people who lacked the formal training to express ideas in a "literary" manner, but still showed me something vital about the universe.

I've been bitching about literary poetry for like two years now, and really, I just hate what studying all that shit has done to my own writing style. It's so frustrating that the joy and playfulness won't come back.