#preferably without evil dream

[rat-rosemary]

Need more fics where Tommy and Tubbo are fucking insane about each other. Like, that's their little guy and they will tear a person apart with their teeth for him

[fenkko]

one who had dreams of being a hero

This comic is based on Story 3, which speaks of his hobby of ice fishing originating from the days he'd go out with his father on the ice, 'accompanied by his father's unending tales of adventure,' and dream of being the protagonist.

Nowadays, he keeps up the hobby, though only as a method of training... and it seems he fishes alone.

I thought a lot about fairytales and stories told to children -- how they are used to impart lessons and shape a child's growing sense of morality.

I think these stories were Childe's father telling him what kind of man he hoped his son would become.

In Story 5, 'his father had no choice but to hand his beloved son over for conscription into the Fatui' in an attempt to discipline his temper, but was disappointed when Childe continued ascending the ranks, further and further from the gentle boy he was..

His father named him after the hero Ajax. Is he still disappointed in the path Childe has taken? Does he still see his son in the man he sees before him? Does Childe feel in himself the chasm between who he dreamed of becoming and who he is now?

It's interesting, that fairytales should often have a very strict good/evil morality. Childe professes he has no use for such things, and will gladly become a mindless weapon so long as he can continue honing himself for battle. And yet, has he truly given up on being human?

For a Harbinger, Childe is oddly principled, preferring straightforward battles without deceit. He retains a sort of moral code, reluctant to involve those who are defenseless in his plans.

And of course, he deeply cherishes his family. What sort of weapon has a family? Why does he cling so desperately to this identity as a defender of childhood dreams, of being his sister Tonia's knight?

Perhaps his own dream of being a hero died long ago, but a part of him still recognizes the tragedy of it and maybe... in some way, is still trying.

This is somewhat of a companion piece to my Scara comic "one who has given up on being saved". Childe, unable to live up to his childhood ideals of heroism, and Scara, whose pleas for help went unanswered.

A failed hero, and someone who never had one.

ARGHH yknow it drives me nuts. I haven't known peace since I started thinking about it.

[always-just-red]

Hello! Y'know that one line of Sylus talking about his muscles saying "They're not real. But they move." The way he casually admits to not being entirely human

Could I request something angsty where Sylus has an uncanny valley aura about him where you just FELL something's not right and Sylus is all :( cause he can't make the MC feel comfortable around him but it's not like he can fix it either

Just a quick little fic for this whilst I work on a longer fic! Realised like two paragraphs in that I had the opportunity to do the most evil thing ever, so I did!! 😇 I'm really proud of this one guys pls show it some love! And thanks for the prompt, anon! You are my co-conspirator in all this evilness, mwa ha ha DISCLAIMER: This work does not reflect the feelings of the author, who would die for Sylus! Wants to hold Sylus's face in her hands and tell him he is everything good and pure in this dark, cynical chess game we call life! 😎✨

Monster

Sylus x Reader 🩸

Summary: A Deepspace Hunter's instincts never lie...

Genre: angst oh my GOSH so much angst

Warnings/Additional tags: f!reader, AU I guess as this is a different spin on an existing scene, *passes you some tissues* here you might need these! 🥰

| Word count: 800 | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

You know monsters.

Earth-shattering. Sky-shearing. Teeth, reckless: always striving for something soft to sink into. To make a home in and to eviscerate. You’ve been grazed by it— kissed by that violence more times than you can count— and you are not soft anymore; there isn’t space for it. There are scars and then there’s armour, the kind you carry with you, the kind you couldn’t shed if you tried, and you haven’t tried, because why would you?

Horror isn’t loud and cataclysmic, it’s quiet. It’s those few seconds before your Hunter’s watch signals a fluctuation of Metaflux. A premonition, trained, or maybe just human instinct, raw and vulnerable: something is wrong, here. That prickle on your skin— the tip of that claw, raked, snaked down your spine. You feel it whenever a Wanderer lurks in the shadows, or beneath a stretch of water that’s unfathomably deep and far, far too still.

Sometimes, you feel it when you look at Sylus.

I know monsters.

Before you, a fragment of a mural tells a very old story, and beside you, a red-eyed man is thinking of flowers. It’s late, and the museum is quiet. You look at the fragment’s centre, where a female warrior is plunging a blade through a dragon’s heart. “Look,” you say, nodding at the figure with a half-smile. “My predecessor.”

Sylus hums thoughtfully. “What makes you say that?”

“Because that looks like a standard Tuesday to me. Some things never change, huh?”

But other things do. With a chuckle, Sylus draws closer to you. The rumble of his laughter is warm and familiar, and his hand is near yours as he bends to examine the mural. He wants you to take it, to thread your fingers through his like you do when you resonate, when you need his power and he needs yours, except neither of you need it now. Why, then?

You know. Of course you know.

The man is all softness, voice and gaze like an afternoon sun in late summer that lulls you to sleep with thick, golden light. Always trying to evoke a dream. It’s weakness, it’s the dragon on the mural with a split heart, bleeding, and you’ll never understand why Sylus wears his on his sleeve.

It’ll be the death of him, one day. It’s set in stone. Right here.

When Sylus touches you— when the tip of his finger catches yours and makes an honest, desperate request— you don’t pull away. Something inside tugs at you, warns you, tells you a monster without a sword in its chest is one that can bite. What colour of blood would your hands prefer? His? Your own?

Your veins are cold and something is wrong, but no, you don’t pull away, because Sylus knows monsters too. Some declare themselves with twisted horns, razorlike wings and a long, barbed tail. Others declare themselves with something as subtle as a touch, withdrawn.

When Sylus steps away from you, that gash of dread closes up inside you. Heals like his wounds: no mess, no scar, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

He’s had a long time to look at the mural, and he smiles wistfully at the woman at its centre. “Some things never change,” he echoes, and it sounds as though there’s blood in his lungs, his throat, and that he has to swallow it down to say anything at all. It must sting.

“All in a day’s work for a Deepspace Hunter,” you joke flatly. You’re not even sure Sylus hears it.

Both of you stare at your fragment of history: an execution, a liberation. A matter of perspective. “Maybe…” Sylus begins, but then thinks better of it.

“Maybe what?”

He’s seeing something you don’t.

“Maybe what, Sylus?”

He spares you a glance. “The pose,” he says, indicating the warrior. “It’s ambiguous. Perhaps she isn’t slaying the beast, she could be—”

“Saving it?”

You’re considering a new perspective. Tapping a finger against your cheek as you lock eyes with your history— that elusive dream— ever oblivious to what’s behind you:

There’s a look of sheer, infinite longing— a gaze that’s been empty of you for too long, so sick of starvation, and determined to have its fill in the few, fleeting moments it can. It’s ravenous: dangerous, sharp, and irrevocably yours, if you would only turn around.

There are teeth and claws, but they’re all of them tame, and that makes them soft, doesn’t it? You could trust them on your skin. Turn around.

You do, and you are not the girl from the mural who tucked wildflowers into his hair and who sung him a song he still hears in his sleep. Sylus’s heart aches.

You are the girl from the mural who’s slaying a dragon, because it’s the oldest story, the only story.

Your eyes harden.

“Who would pull out a sword to save a monster?”

[thesilmarillionblog]

𓏲 𓂃 L o s i n g Y o u

Part:𝟷𝟹

Click here to read the first part.

Summary: Everything was good as a member of Payback and Soldier Boy's secret girlfriend until the team and your relationship with him began to fall apart due to a new member and her developing relationship with Ben right in front of your eyes.

Pairing: Soldier Boy / Reader

Warnings: +18! (MINORS DNI), mutual masturbation, dirty talk, language, suspense

Word Count: 4791

A/N: English is not my first language.

* This story is inspired by the song "Losing You" by Dream Evil.

Your heart raced at the thought of touching yourself at almost 1:00 AM when Ben was still awake in his bed. The sound of the video he was watching, which covered the most recent events in America, made it clear.

Even though you were a little anxious, you were quite serious when you told him you didn't feel ashamed or anything about touching yourself, whether he listened or not. In all honesty, you weren't entirely sure if you were feeling excited or anxious at the time. However, the second option would be preferable to the first for a variety of reasons.

You forced yourself not to chuckle when Ben began to curse and make brief comments about every news report and anything the interviewer mentioned. Sometimes his sensitive temper was almost amusing. 

He stopped watching the news, and you heard him taking off his sweatpants and shirt. It was evident to you that he disliked sleeping in too many clothes. Given his sudden and drastic shift in body temperature, it must now be even more unsettling. 

You had so many issues going through your thoughts that you weren't able to concentrate on his muscles or anything else when you were working out together. Even though you detested having feelings like this, you couldn't resist a desire for him because of how much thicker and stronger he was than before. You wanted to reassure yourself that it was nothing more than a bodily issue. You had not touched yourself in a long time, after all, and Ben was practically stroking himself loudly every day as if he wanted you to hear him jacking off.

Asshole.

You decided that the best way to let Ben know you weren't shy around him was when he started taking a midnight shower. As you widened your bare legs out on the bed, your heart began to race frantically as you felt the overwhelming urge deep down in your body. Then your hand began to gently stroke your clit through your underwear. Even though you were aware that you were completely dry, you hoped that the anxiety would pass quickly.

You slowly began to touch yourself and made an effort to block out everything in your mind, even for a brief period of time. It didn't matter that you knew your body and mind needed a picture to make you feel hot and excited; all you cared about was getting pleasure as soon as you could without thinking anything at all. But you were really dry, which really irritated you, and it was embarrassing. It seemed as though you had forgotten how to make your body feel good.

Your pride was pressing into your chest, even though you knew it would be simpler just to think about what your body most craved. You slid your fingers through your panties, lowered your nightgown, squeezed your breasts, and touched your clit some more. 

Ben's super-hearing picked up on you the instant you started touching yourself, and he briefly shut off the water so he could concentrate on your heartbeats. His half-hard cock throbbed with excitement as he knew you were finally rubbing yourself and that he was listening to everything. His lips twisted at this realization. 

He wanted to say anything—to talk to you, to help you come hard for him—but he swiftly shut his mouth out of fear that you would decide to back out. It was already apparent that you were uncomfortable with being touched since you had your own reasons. The way you looked at him told him that your body was yearning for him like hell. 

Even though the majority of what he wanted to tell you at that moment was dirty as fuck, he was able to stop being a jerk for that particular moment. 

You tried everything, but you were unable to find pleasure, which in turn made you enraged. When you tried to stick one of your fingers inside of you, you moaned in agony, but since you weren't even slightly wet, the motion caused your eyes to well up with tears, so you stopped feeling ashamed. Knowing that Ben was listening to you made you want to cover your head immediately because it was so awkward. 

You knew you dug your own grave when you said you would touch yourself as he listened, even though you knew it was your mistake in the first place—your need to demonstrate to him how courageous you were with your body and everything. You didn't have to do it in the first place. Embarrassed, you closed your eyes and wished Ben hadn't sensed you at all. 

When Ben heard your abrupt, painful moaning and slowing heartbeat, he frowned. He would have known if you were finished, so he realized something wasn't right at that precise moment. 

Ben softly inquired, “What's wrong?” not sure how to handle this and hoped you would be at least open to a chat. 

You wanted to turn your back, turn him off, and go to sleep, but you just couldn't. You needed to relax just as much as your body did, but you were completely unprepared for what was happening. When your sorrow and resentment toward Ben lingered deep inside and you refused to think about him at all while touching yourself, everything became extremely difficult and complicated. 

No one existed before him, and no one existed after him. Therefore, when you didn't think about him, neither your body nor you knew how to handle yourself. In the past, everything revolved around him; today, nothing does. 

Saying, “I can't do it,” you forced yourself to stop crying and avoid looking silly. 

Ben attempted to be careful with his remarks so as not to hurt your feelings or make you feel ashamed. He shut off the water entirely. “Are you nervous?” 

You just said, “No,” pulling up your nightgown as your blushes turned red with shame. Thank goodness he didn't see you at that moment. 

“What happened then?” Ben asked in a tone so low that it nearly made your heart melt. 

You inhaled deeply and let your gaze linger in the pitch-black space for a while. When at last you stated, “It feels dry,” Perhaps you simply needed to organize your life and get rid of everything that was stressing you out, and now wasn't the right time. 

“You can't get wet there?” Ben inquired, a little confused because he knew there would never be an issue with you about this. In the past, he didn't even have to attempt to get you wet and ready for him; it always took just a few seconds. Ben was thus surprised that this was the first time such an issue had emerged. 

But, of course, you were together before he ruined everything in the past. Ben reasoned that your emotional imbalance must have been at the root of the situation. Knowing that he was the real cause and that you were probably completely unaware of it made his heart ache. 

Without saying anything, you gave him your approval with a murmur. 

Ben abruptly said, “Let me help you,” in a serious tone. He knew it wouldn't be that difficult if you would just allow him. 

You blushed and mumbled, “Don't you come in here,” fearing that Ben was already making other plans. 

Without holding back smiles, he added, “I wasn't,” immediately. “I will be staying here, and you will be there.”

Ben's lips twitched in excitement as he heard your heartbeat slightly quicken again, and you stayed silent, showing that this time you didn't reject him immediately. "Just let me," he urged, attempting to talk sense into you while his breathing intensified in anticipation of helping you. 

You said, in a murmur, “Okay,” not wanting to consider whether this was the worst idea. All you needed was to escape the weighty sensation in your chest and the issues that were already controlling your existence at that moment. 

It was hard for Ben not to go out from bathroom and get into your room already, make you feel good as you deserved, but he was well aware of your permission was enough for now. "I'll fix this, I promise," he said with determination. He meant it, and it was about everything and anything when he said it.

Ben gave a tough-voiced command, “Spread your legs,” as he impatiently awaited whatever was going to happen. When his voice effortlessly overpowered you, he was aware of how much your body enjoyed it. 

You followed his instructions, not caring that his words made your heart race. Knowing how much your body enjoyed it was frustrating. 

Ben said, “Touch yourself. Slowly.”

Gently placing your palm over your clit, you began to massage it once more, this time paying attention to Ben's words and breathing as though you were in the same room, in the in the same place, at that moment. 

Ben gave another command: “Don't rush; do it slowly.” You were rushing without even realizing it. “Be nice and gentle to that sweet pussy.” 

His voice was rough as he said, “Lower your gown.” He couldn't decide who was more excited at that precise moment. “Reveal your gorgeous breasts. Your beautiful nipples have probably hardened by now.” 

Your body trembled as you squeezed one of your nipples between your fingers as per his directions. Your breathing was heavy and noticeable, but you forced your lips together and restrained yourself from moaning. 

“Are you touching your nipples right now?” Ben said, ignoring the fact that his own shaft was already hard and aching for attention. “I know you like it when I play with your nipples.”

You tried to mutter ‘yes,’ but it was hardly audible. You closed your eyes and gave a tight squeeze to one of your tits while quivering as you breathed deeply. 

“Fuck,” he whispered. His veins were evident, and his fully hardened cock was throbbing. “I miss sucking those nipples so much, especially when I'm fucking you.”

You gulped as your walls clamped around nothingness, and you could feel yourself growing wetter quicker this time. Your body was undoubtedly thrilled; even though your reaction to his words and to him didn't make your mind happy, it surely did your body and down there. 

Ben said, “Tell me if you're wet.” He grabbed himself in hand, unable to contain the massive erection between his legs any longer. “Check your sweet cunt and tell me.”

You mumbled, “I am,” shaking with pleasure and excitement as he continued speaking in the same way. “I am..wet.” 

“Fuck, baby. I'm sure you are. I know that this little tight pussy is pretty wet at the moment,” Ben grewled and began to pump himself. He touched the wall with his other hand. “Put one of your fingers inside.” 

You could tell Ben was stroking himself because of the sloppy noises he was making. He wasn't even trying to keep it quiet; his movements were becoming rougher and louder by the second. 

You were surprised when one of your fingers easily slid inside your pussy since you felt extremely wet at the exact moment. Your lips are parted with both pleasure and disbelief. You were unable to control your moaning after Ben told you to gently touch yourself while he was stroking himself. You spread your legs a bit more, moaned aloud, and arched your back. 

He growled, “Fuck, fuck,” and began to pump his shaft even more forcefully. He was about to go crazy hearing your lovely whimpers. He moaned and balled his fist around the wall, saying, “Keep fucking yourself with your fingers; fuck this little hole for me. I want to fuck your little cunt so badly right now. Just as you need it, I would give you a really deep and rough fuck and fill you up with my cock. Keep going; I know you're almost there.”

You just kept rubbing yourself as he instructed and panting while Ben spoke in such a way. You knew you were getting close when your walls began to clench, even though you weren't aware that his words or the way he stroked himself in between growls were pushing you over the edge at this point. Your body and mind were yearning to utter his name, but you suppressed the need to scream his name. 

“Gonna suck that swollen pussy so good, make you come in my mouth.”

Your moans became uncontrollably louder as Ben's curses mixed with the sound of him beating himself rather aggressively. Ben's only desire at that moment was to enter your room and give your pussy a single thrust with his cock. He was aware that you would take him so quickly and easily at that point. He was going insane from your moans and the small sound of your sickness between your fingers. 

Ben let out a very loud growl, “Come to me,” as he was no longer able to control it. His palm tightened around his cock, and his strokes became more intense. “Let me fucking come inside you.”

Your mind was immediately filled with memories of the last time he had filled you up, and as soon as he finished speaking, you felt your walls tighten around your finger as your heart raced, leaving you gasping for air.

Ben could no longer hold himself when he heard your heartbeat and moans during the orgasm. He pumped his reddened cock ferociously and began to spill into his hand in the bathroom, his other fisted hand suddenly pressing against the wall and creating a hole, all the while listening to your little moans.

When the effects of your orgasm faded and you removed your wet finger from your pussy, your eyes widened in shock at what had just transpired. Your legs were still shaking. Ben continued to come into his hand and curse.

As you lay in bed, exhausted and still struggling to breathe, your hearts were racing in sync.

Slowly coming to your senses, you hastily straightened your nightgown as your cheeks flushed. 

“You okay?” Ben asked in between gasps.

You shifted in bed and closed your eyes tightly, muttering, “Yes,” trying to fall asleep as quickly as possible. 

Ben understood he shouldn't be too forceful with you right now and to give you some space because he realized it was an important development for you and didn't want to make you feel bad about anything. Even though it hurt to end things this way and let silence fester between you, he continued taking a shower and listened to you drift off to sleep without saying anything. 

Ben got up early to prepare for his road trip with Butcher and suited up while he listened to your steady breathing as you slept peacefully. The door was open, so as he approached your room, he caught a glimpse of your sleeping body on the bed. 

As Ben drew nearer to your bed, he could see that you were sleeping face down with one knee bent toward your stomach, exposing your ass. You, too, had your tits practically on full display. If everything was fine and you just let him fuck you deep and rough every morning and let him awaken you in such a way, that would be perfect. 

His cock throbbed beneath his suit, and he gingerly grasped the thin blanket and placed it over your body to cover you. Before he got suited up, he should have beaten his meat again. 

You whimpered in disapproval as you moved the cover away from your body, feeling the burning heat. You realized as your sleep started to fade that Ben had covered your body with a blanket, even though it was actually burning both inside and out. 

“Ben, it's summertime.” You whispered, “What the hell?” as you moved the blanket away from your body after you took it from between his hands. 

“Your door was left open.” He mumbled, “Someone might have seen you,” and he carefully settled into the edge of your bed. 

He found it irritating that you slept in such a seductive nightgown when other men were present, and he was going to be leaving you with one of them. Instead of forcing you to stay in the house, he should have fought Butcher to make you come with them. 

“Already have,” you said, hoping for ease of sleep once more. But Ben was determined to keep you up. 

Ben gazed at your ass, between your legs, and on your back before saying, “I'm about to leave,” and he cleared his throat. “Pick up your phone when I give you a call.”

You gasped, “Leave me alone,” as he continued talking while you were attempting to get some morning sleep. 

“You seem really grumpy this morning. Aren't you?” He chuckled as you continued to moan irritably. “Don't leave the house until I'm back, and never trust that stupid human.”

He wouldn't let you sleep in peace, so his talking caused your eyes to open slightly. You growled, “For fucks sake, Ben,” frustrated that he wouldn't even let you get a decent night's sleep. “Sun didn't even rise, and you're already annoying.”

“Sweetheart, I'm just telling you I'll be here as soon as possible. Why did you suddenly become angry?” 

“I don't care,” you replied as you shut your eyes once again and moved around the bed a little to get into a more comfortable position. “You do whatever you want to do. Go to Herogasm and spend the day and night there. I really don't care, Ben.”

When you told Ben you didn't give a damn about what he would be doing in Herogasm, he grimaced. Since you detested that particular region so much, he realized right away that this subject would be a pain in his ass. 

“I've already made it clear that I have no interest. We won't be even staying there for a day.”

You muttered, hoping to get a little more sleep. “So you would be interested if you just stayed longer,” you said. 

Ben stated firmly, “That's not really what I meant. You're just twisting words.”

You asked, “Are you happy you just ruined my sleep?” as you turned to face him, inhaled deeply, opened your eyes, and shifted on the bed. 

He whispered, “Of course,” peering at your tits without even blinking. “..not.”

Your heart tightened at the way Ben's suit encased his broad arms as he slowly cleared his throat and stood up. 

“By the way,” he remarked as he headed to the wardrobe. After putting a lot of clothes away for a while, he turned to face you and smiled a little. “I thought you would want this back.”

You quietly murmured, “Where did you even find this?” as you stood up from the bed and approached him after realizing that he was holding your own outfit. You were so taken aback that you couldn't find words to express how you felt at that moment.

The pride filled his chest, and he couldn't contain his small smile when he saw how astonished you were when you took your suit and looked it over. “I visited Legend the day I had some free time and took both of our suits. Since it was smelling so awful, I threatened to kill him there until he cleaned it up.”

You smiled slightly at him, your hands still lingering on your suit, reminding you of things you really wanted to hide under the rug. 

“I am aware that before all of this, you had left Vought. I also don't want you to get into any fights. But whatever happens, it's yours,” he stated, seeing your wandering thoughts. 

With sincerity, you murmured, “Thank you, Ben,” and noticed him nodding and letting out a sigh of relief. 

“Fine, I need to go right now.”

Though you couldn't read his expressions, he was staring at you as if he wanted to say or do something. You said, “Ben, be careful there,” and used one of your hands to touch the thick, hard chest plate to indicate to him what you meant before he moved to exit the room. “Don't mess things up.”

He winked at you and answered, “Sure,” walking out of the room.

Ben, Butcher, and Hughie had left the house hours ago, and you had done nothing but watch the news together as you usually did and watch Kimiko and Frenchie till it became night. You never asked Kimiko personal questions so as not to put her in discomfort; instead, she spoke with hand gestures and occasionally by utilizing her phone. You just believed that she was the most sincere team member. You just felt this way. It might be beneficial for you to do training at some point, and it might even help you form a friendship. 

You were a little irritated with Ben for breaking his word and not making more than one call, even if you didn't really care what he was doing at the time. You had interrupted him when he was telling you that they were about to arrive at Herogasm. He last spoke with you hours ago, and he hasn't called you since. You asked Frenchie to check your phone to see if there was something wrong because you weren't receiving any more calls so as not to raise suspicions or anything, but he assured you everything was great. Stupid Jackass didn't even bother to call.

Frenchie talked to Kimiko about a supe you just heard on TV. At that point, your mind was preoccupied with various thoughts, and you were unable to concentrate on what they were talking about. 

“Kimiko, you have to be careful this time,” Frenchie added. “It's important. You simply place the bugs and depart from the residence where A-Train frequently travels. Maybe we can learn something about Maeve and Noir this time.”

As she took the bugs from his palms, Kimiko grinned and gave him the thumbs up. 

Frenchie added, “You have to come with us too,” in a hesitant and shy tone. 

“Why?” you asked, continuing to glance at your phone before putting it in your pocket out of annoyance at your own mindset. 

“Well, it's best if we all stick together, and we might need some help there. You know, I don't want to fight with Butcher and your friend.”

Kimiko gave him her rapid nod of approval, and you answered, “All right. Well, it would be better if I simply walked outside. I'm so bored hiding like a rat. It's like it's written in my destiny book.”

Upon Hughie's arrival at the location with Butcher, Ben ordered Hughie to “go there and bring TNT Twins right here.” Ben decided that it would be better to force Hughie to bring the Twins without really going inside, since Hughie had previously informed him about his abilities when he and Butcher had injected Temp-V once more. First of all, he would refrain from going there as you would prefer, and secondly, there would be no risk of him blowing up unexpectedly and creating another issue. 

Hughie sighed and nodded at him, saying, “All right, all right. However, if I don't return after ten or fifteen minutes, something is most likely wrong.” 

“Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?” As Butcher noticed Hughie growing uneasy, he suggested. 

“No need,” Hughie said, placing his hands on his hips and inhaling deeply. 

Ben stated in a harsh voice, “Something better not be wrong,” and turned to walk in a different way to make a phone call after he pointed a finger right to Hughie's face.

When Kimiko was repeatedly told what to do by Frenchie, as though he were speaking to a kid, Kimiko became irate and gave him a little shove, making a sound that made it obvious how irritated she was. Then you all stayed in Frenchie's van as they quickly conversed through gestures. As you watched everyone strolling down the street, you sighed, your heart clenched, longing to do so many things that you had no idea about what. 

Your phone rang, so you answered it and waited for Ben to speak. 

“I was unable to call you as I had slept too much in the car. Where are you?” Ben asked, hearing the sounds of the crowd around you in a stiff voice. 

“Why do you care?” you murmered as you watched Kimiko and Frenchie discuss. “Frenchie and Kimiko will be watching some guy. We are waiting for his van,” you said, not wanting to start an argument.

“You should have stayed in the house,” he said firmly. Ben didn't want to sound rough or anything, but considering the situation, he couldn't help but be concerned. “Is it because that fucker didn't leave you alone?”

“Stop that, Ben,” you said, getting angry at him as though he were talking to a little girl. “Even if something happens, I'm still a supe and I can guarantee you that I can protect myself better than anyone.”

He spoke up a little. “I'm not saying that you can't protect yourself,” but it was obvious he was attempting to sound calm and controlled. 

Ben told Butcher to shut up between curses when Butcher said, “We need to go inside,” as you heard. 

You scowled in perplexity as you said, “It seems you're needed there.” Your gaze locked on a black figure in the shadows. 

“Let's avoid starting this over. I promise to get the task done quickly. Perhaps we can also locate Mindstorm. You know there are some serious priorities, and Herogasm definitely is not one of them,” Ben remarked, attempting to calm down and suppress his rage at Frenchie for preventing you from staying at home. 

Breathing deeply, you attempted to see the figure again and whispered, “Okay,” not wanting to complicate things because you knew that his newest powers would cause problems and you didn't want him to make a scene there. Since you didn't trust his anger management difficulties at all, it would actually be best if you were just there with him. 

“Good,” he replied, relieved that you no longer seemed agitated, angry, or uneasy in the slightest. “Be careful there; we'll see each other again soon. I have to go now, sweetie.”

You hung up the phone, blushing inexplicably, and replied in a low voice, “Okay,” while your fingers traced around one of the seats. 

After you ended the call, Kimiko and Frenchie were exploring the area as they discussed the strategy once more, and you kept your gaze focused on the shadowy figure whose mask-covered eyes were staring at you. He was examining the van, and you in particular, from across the street. 

You knew that black suit and the mask. He used to be your best friend once. 

Your heart started to race, which caused you to cautiously and without hesitation get out of the van while keeping your eyes fixed on him. You had no idea how he found you, how he saw you, or what his purpose was, but you were certain that you had too much to share. Maybe it would have been better if you had just told everyone, but it wasn't about them. For now, it was just between him and you. You were in desperate need of answers. 

You followed him fearlessly to the shadowy nook where he was waiting when he noticed that you were staring at him too. It was already crowded. 

“Earving?” You kept a distance to be cautious and whispered in a suspicious tone while you waited anxiously for an answer.

⋆⋅☆⋆☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋆☆⋅⋆

There was too much to talk.

Next Chapter

A/N: Comments and reblogs are appreciated very much.  They keep me going. ♡˚.

Taglist: @mostlymarvelgirl @xmariakx @spnfamily-j2 @suspicious-stain-in-spain @atomicsoulcollecto @yvonneeeee @starryperson @mfnqueen1 @chaand-sitara @boywivlove @stilinskisthings @brynanna @delaynew @yoyoanaria @n-o-p-e-never @ghostslillady @certifiedhaters @deans-spinster-witch @demodemo909 @stoneyggirl2 @cheynovak @libby99hb @moneyburner @jenn-777q @hey-there0-0  @purplerosequartz @shadowghoul2525 @darkqueen1995 @simpin4pixels @deebris @spideybv28 @mystic-mara

Let me know if you want to be tagged in this series. ♡˚.

[stjohnstarling]

When you think about it, the success (relatively speaking) of What Manner of Man is kind of miraculous. I have no social media presence outside of Tumblr (not for lack of trying! I just utterly do not have the knack,) no connections, and I've already given the book away for free. I simply have not written this book in a way that gets me anywhere with BookTok, Bookstagram, the Facebook communities of Kindle Unlimited readers - any of the online indie publishing infrastructure.

And yet it’s been wonderful! In some ways, writing this book has gone indescribably better than I ever dreamed it could. Every day I'm floored by the number of people who’ve read What Manner of Man and cared enough to help it along. The little community of friends and readers this story has gathered around it is one of the best experiences I’ve ever had creatively.

Now that the book is about to be irrevocably published, though, I’ve become wracked with doubts. What if it’s still not enough? What if all the people who’ve read and enjoyed the free version of the novel vanish tomorrow in a puff of smoke, and I have to start again from scratch with a more conventional publishing model? What if my subject matter is just too transgressive/queer/kinky/blasphemous and I have to pivot to writing something that’s less of all of those things? What if I run headlong into the woods and get torn apart by coyotes? Etc.

Listen, I’m going to be so real with you guys right now. I hate all ads with a deep, personal hatred, and I loathe and despise writing self-promo stuff. It’s by far the worst part of this job. But this is a very weird, risky thing I’ve done, and I need to make an appeal to Tumblr for help. For this to work - for this risk to pay off - I basically need enough people to 1. buy the e-book and 2. leave reviews on Amazon and Goodreads within a certain timeframe to catch the favor of the evil god known as The Algorithm. If that happens, I might be able to sell enough copies to enable me to continue doing this.

Without further ado, therefore - if:

You're tired of being sold safe, sexless, sanitized, advertiser-friendly queerness in stories 

You want more art that embraces uncompromisingly queer, transgressive desire

You view - now, more than ever, in this moment of religious backlash towards all manner of sexual expression - sexual freedom as inseparable from queer liberation

(And you want to see that explored in metaphor via a vampire seducing a priest)

Then may I present... ✨ What Manner of Man ✨

(Now with a beautiful cover by @beastliness!)

You can read the draft version for free here, and, if you enjoy it, acquire the completed version from your preferred retailer or DRM-free on my itchio store.

If you've made it to the end, thank you for reading all that 💜 (and thank you in advance if you decide to share it!)

[ladykailitha]

You're a Dream to Me Part 2

Woohoo! I love the response the first part got for this! Keep it up! I loved every like, comment, and reblog!

In this one we have the only chapter without a dream at the start, but we get see Eddie and Steve's lives without each other.

Part 1

~

To say Steve hadn’t ended up where he thought he would when he was in high school was an understatement. He had imagined working for his dad at the consulting firm he owned. But when he hit college and met Robin working at the on campus ice cream shop. The school’s mascot was the Buccaneers and so the place was called Scoop’s Ahoy.

They hadn’t started off as friends, but after being locked together in the back of the shop when a bomb threat had been called into the school, they came out of it as best buds.

He had decided after that that he didn’t want to do work for someone else, he wanted to own his own business and like the universe was looking out for him, after he had graduated from college he had come home and learned that the local bookstore was looking to sell.

And as much as Clint Harrington would have preferred his son with him, owning his own business was still in line with what he wanted for his son, so he didn’t think anything of it. That was until Steve turned it into a liberal arts bookstore with a strong leaning toward the LGBTQ+ community.

That was the final straw for the elder Harrington, cutting Steve off without a thought or so much as a backward glance. But what Clint hadn’t realized was that the trust fund had been setup by his grandparents and that the only access Clint had to it was to put money in and not take anything out, so Steve took the money from the trust fund and built the bookstore to what it was now, a thriving hub for the lost souls of Hawkins.

So when he said he loved his job, he meant it. But it wasn’t easy. He had a constantly revolving door of high schoolers who worked for him in the afternoons. But the mornings were tended to by Robin or him. Today it was him.

She would be by around ten coffee and donuts in hand. Vickie was a fifth grade social studies and band teacher. Which is why she hadn’t been grumpy with the wake up call this morning. She had already been at work for an hour by the time Steve had called.

He got to work opening up his store, happily humming some tune that was always playing in the background of his soulmate dreams.

The bell above the door rang out signaling his first customer. Steve looked up and died a little inside. It wasn’t a customer, because that implied the person might make a purchase and this one never would.

“Mrs. O’Donnell,” Steve said warningly. “I’m pretty sure that Chief Hopper told you to stay out of my shop, so don’t make me call him.”

The old English teacher had retired the year prior and made her mission to terrorize the bookshop about the books they sold. She stopped in her tracks when she saw who was manning the shop today. “Where’s the girl?”

A sudden chill slid down his spine. “If you aren’t out of my shop by the time I finish dialing the cops, you’re going to regret that statement.” He picked up the phone and started dialing from memory.

She continued to stare him down. “This is public property, I can come and go as I wish. You can’t stop me.” She gathered her purse to her chest like a shield and stepped further into the store.

Steve raised an eyebrow. “One, stores are private property and two, you started throwing books off the shelves the last time you were here, and that’s destruction of property.”

The old bat stopped in her tracks for the second time and turned to him with an evil grin. “They’d be my property if I bought them, right?”

Steve snorted and ignored her. If she was really that stupid, he wasn’t going to correct her. “Hello, yes, this is Steve Harrington from Coming of Page. Yes, I’d like to report a trespass. That’s right. Kathleen O’Donnell is back. Mhmm...of course I’ll wait.”

He waited, but Mrs. O’Donnell did not. But according to Officer Callahan, they had picked her up only a couple of blocks from the shop.

“Are you really going to press charges against an old woman?” he asked when Steve brought it up.

“It’s either this or you find another way to keep her out of my shop,” he snapped. “Because it’s a bookshop. It’s not even the only bookshop in town there are three other small bookshops and a Waldon’s Bookseller in the mall. I’m not making bank and it was lucky insurance paid out for the damage she did last time. An actual fucking crime, no less!”

Callahan grumbled but was duty bound to arrest her. So when Robin came in with her coffee and donuts he was already ready to throw in the towel.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” she murmured after she heard about his morning. “I should have told you she was harassing me when you weren’t there, but I didn’t want to make a bid deal out of it.”

Steve gave her a hug. “I understand that, but with you not telling anyone it just gave her permission to keep doing it, okay?”

She nodded sadly. “I’ll be sure to call you the next time it happens.” She wrapped her arms around him and settled into the hug.

“Hopefully there won’t be a next time because the old bat will be in jail,” he said fiercely. “People are just so bigoted these days.”

She raised her head. “That certainly true. Let’s eat these donuts and drink this coffee and you can tell all about your dream hunk.”

Steve laughed. Then they did just that. They talked about the sound of his voice and the feeling of his broad chest pressed against back.

“Well it sounds like he’s finally coming around to the idea of you as his soulmate,” she said when he had finished telling her about every detail of the dream.

“Yeah,” Steve sighed wistfully. “I can’t wait to meet him.”

Later that day, Steve was humming a little tune and bopping to the music in his head when Dustin came in. Dustin still worked at the bookstore during his breaks from school for what Dustin called D&D money.

“Hey, I didn’t know you knew Corroded Coffin,” Dustin said as he clocked himself in at the computer. “That’s one of my favorites.”

Steve stopped what he was doing and turned to him. “I hear it in my soulmate dreams. My soulmate must be a huge fan.”

“Your soulmate is a metal fan?” Dustin said brightly. “That’s so cool!”

Steve just shook his head. Now that he knew the band his future soulmate liked, he would have to look them up to see what other songs might have been playing during his dreams.

“I’ll send you a link to all my favorites,” Dustin was saying. “And some other bands too, so that when you two finally meet, you aren’t totally a fish out of water with his tastes.”

“Thanks, bud!”

All the kids knew that Steve strongly suspected that his soulmate was a man. It made things easier for Mike and Will to get together as Mike had Steve to help work out his internalized homophobia.

He pulled out his phone when it went off to see that Dustin had done what he said he was going to do. He smiled fondly. Yeah, Mrs. O’Donnell could go kick rocks for all he cared, because he had his people.

~

Eddie was a professional above all else, especially when it came to his music, but there were days when he didn’t feel the music. Like he had been disconnected from the mainframe or like a puppet with its strings cut.

Jeff noticed it first. But that was because being on rhythm guitar he took his cues from Eddie so when the energy didn’t match their opening song he knew something was up. Brian and Gareth didn’t notice until about halfway through the third song when Eddie actually fucking missed a chord.

Gareth called a halt with his sticks, crossing them like an X to get the techs to stop, too.

“Okay, man,” Brian huffed, “what is with you today?”

“‘Cause if this about us teasing you about Steve,” Jeff said, gripping the body of his guitar, “we’re sorry. You are usually right there with us laughing about it.”

Eddie let out a long shuddering sigh and rubbed his chin. “It not just that. Because yeah, today I wasn’t in the mood to be teased about my long standing crush, but it was sleeping through my alarm, too. Getting yelled at first thing in the morning is exactly a recipe for a good day, you know?”

“Yeah,” Gareth said, “I’d be in a pretty shit mood, too.” The other two members nodded. “So why don’t we take a break, grab a smoke and clear our heads a bit?”

Eddie ran his fingers through his hair and let his eyes flutter shut. A cigarette did sound really good right now. “Yeah, and have one of the PAs run and get us some burgers. I didn’t have time to eat, so that might be affecting my mood too.”

So they took a break, had a smoke, got some food in their bellies and cleared their heads. They were all feeling a little better as they got on back on the stage to finish the sound check.

As Eddie was plugging in his guitar, Chrissy came up to him.

“Hey, you got a minute?” she asked. Eddie half shrugged, so she took that as sign a to continue. “I wanted to apologize for this morning. I heard a couple of the guys talking about how much it upset you and I shouldn’t have came in like a bull in a china shop, no matter how late you were.”

Eddie half shrugged again. “I’m an adult, Chris and you treated me like a child who was late for school. And I checked, no one had even tried calling me or texting me to see where I was. So yeah, I think I have a right to be pissed.”

Chrissy sighed. “I know. When I arrived and saw that you weren’t there I just stormed up on the war path and that wasn’t fair to you. So this me apologizing for it and I promise it won’t happen again, okay?”

Eddie nodded and then turned to Gareth and jutted his chin up to indicate that he was ready to go. Gareth counted out time on his sticks as Chrissy stepped back, chewing on her thumbnail.

She had royally fucked up this morning because she had a fight with Georgia this morning about how the two tours were going on at the same time and that it had been a deliberate choice for Chrissy to join Corroded Coffin instead of Lilith’s Little Monsters.

Which of course it had, Chrissy was their manager, but she wasn’t the one who had set the touring schedule that was the label, but no amount of explaining that did any good. So she had taken Eddie being late as a personal attack and went up there guns blazing. Which she really, really shouldn’t have done no matter what her own morning had been like.

She had known that the boys had gotten in super late and literally crashed into their beds and slept like the dead. She should have set up morning calls for all of them to make sure they were awake in time. But she hadn’t because she relied so heavily on Eddie’s need to be on time.

So she had set the tone for their morning and while their playing was vastly better than it been before the break, it wasn’t their best.

It was time to do some grovelling and not just with her band, but with her soulmate too. Since her boys were currently playing, she was going to start with her soulmate. She pulled out her phone and dialed Georgia.

“Hey, babe,” she murmured softly. “I’m sorry. You were right. I could have pushed a little harder so that the two tours wouldn’t line up, especially with Corroded Coffin having way more control with that sort of thing then most bands.”

“Oh, wow,” Georgia said, “I wasn’t expecting an apology, like ever. Thanks.”

Chrissy winced. “I know. I’m such a bitch. But I’m your bitch and I love you so much.”

“I love you too, honey,” Georgia laughed. “And I do know that it’s your job that you have to be there, I just rolled over in bed this morning and you weren’t there, so I chose violence.”

“I would have too,” Chrissy admitted. “We’re going to be in the same city at the same time for Boston, so I thought I would come woo my pretty wife and bring her flowers and the whole nine yards. How does that sound?”

“Sounds great,” Georgia breathed. “I’ve got to get to my sound check, but I love you.”

“Love you more,” Chrissy replied.

And then they said their goodbyes and hung up. Now to figure out how to make it up to Eddie.

She was going to have to do a lot of groveling to start. but she would figure it out.

~

Part 3

Tag List: FIVE SLOTS REMAINING

1- @itsall-taken @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @irregular-child @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @themoonagainstmers @eyehartart @tartarusknight @chaotic-waffle @dotdot-wierdlife

[qoldenskies]

Thinking about Rise Splinter hate… it always makes me kinda sad. Like YEAH, it wasn’t right the way he treated the boys. But like, Rise is really good at expressing subtle familial dynamics, and one of the big ones for me is the fact that like… there’s always an undercurrent of “It’s complicated” to their interaction with Splinter. IRL, it always pisses me off to see people casting judgments on people’s relationships with their family, because you don’t know!! Yeah, they hurt you, but not everything’s black and white. It’s complicated. Because you love them, and sometimes you get to understand a little bit better why things happened as you get older.

In a matter of smaller importance, hate for him loses so many opportunities in his character… even things that might just be kinda off-handedly mentioned.

He fought for SEVEN years—give me Splinter with chronic pain. Splinter relating to his boys with their neurodivergence—it’s HIS fault they have it!!!

That was seven years of imprisonment, or even simpler, an abusive relationship. What did he learn from that? How did he change? What things are skewed in his worldview?

His childhood! We saw his relationship with his grandfather a bit, but how did Splinter grow into his dream of being a movies star? HIM BEING A MOVIE STAR. He was both a rebellious team and a literal celebrity, this guy probably took empyrean at some point without knowing it, just like. Recreationally or something LMAO.

I maybe just need more of his old man knowledge. Him being so loser-core was a great move by the Rise team, and I could SEE where his story was going—ROBBED. We were ROBBED.

splinter hate is CRAAAAZY when he's such an INTERESTING character who does actually have a lot of obvious depth. like he's goofy and he's objectively flawed as a parent but he does go out of his way to improve himself and LEARN throughout the show, and he does listen and apologize when he knows he's messed up. his issues are so similar to leo's actually, leo's a kid so he's got more leeway to be shitty but idk when people act like its endearing on him and not on splinter. splinter's hilarious free my man

on the other side of the coin i dont really like when people make him a perfect loving parent either,,, i think people going for all kinds of interpretations in order to serve whatever story they need is fine but i do prefer kind of messy parent splinter, i think its kind of sad to see him reduced down to bad or good. he LOVES his boys so dearly and he would NEVER intentionally want to hurt them, but he's quick to cast judgement when he's angered/feels disrespected (evil league of mutants comes to mind, but also in turtle dega nights when donnie first stops the tank) and he's really a lot more inattentive than he should be. but there are REASONS behind this, coming out of an abusive relationship, fighting in bloodsports against his consent for years, you could probably count the whole draxum thing as traumatic (its presented as kind of silly in the show, but considering what it lead to,, its a pivotal moment in the backstory. its one of those things that i reasonably feel can be recontextualized because its so essential) and then dealing with crippling body dysmorphia and being forced into the sewers with no company other than his children,, it really adds up

idk like ,,,, you can still be extremely traumatized and be a horrible parent. in fact trauma can be a direct CAUSE of being a bad parent because that kind of thing influences every facet of your life and if youre unprepared emotionally, yeah. but splinter isn't the kind of person to double down and become more overtly nasty when he feels cornered. if he gets the feeling that his kids are actually upset with him, he backtracks. this is actually kind of a key trait of his, that he does try very hard to correct himself when he messes up. he's communicative and apologetic, and he tries very hard to be that way.

and also this is maybe something that i just have a wider problem with when it comes to the way people interpret things in cartoons at times but splinter's actions in eps like lair games (especially in lair games) and flushed but never forgotten are meant to be like. jokes. its absurdist comedy that's meant to catch you off guard. there are more serious emotional beats in rise you can use but i think when youre adapting this world and characters into a more serious tone you have to keep that kind of thing in mind because some things are meant to be surprising and absurd for the sake of making you laugh. i think the best comparison i can think of is how in musical movies they're not actually singing (in most cases, sometimes the fact that they actually are is played for laughs it depends. but yk what i mean). the joke is that this is kind of a shitty thing he's doing but taking the actions themselves seriously in a vacuum in order to cast shame on a character has always been odd to me. that'd be like calling raph abusive for rolling up the window on mikey's neck in late fee. or calling the teetz murderers because they caused a robot mass suicide that one time. it just doesnt make any sense

[kseniyagreen]

About Zhao Yuanzhou's personalities and their dreams.

I see a clear symbolism in the fact that the diametric opposite of the crazy demonic part of Zhao Yuanzhou is the fantasy of a quiet life with Wen Xiao.

And this makes sense regardless of whether you see their relationship as romantic or not (I prefer to see it as platonic).

When I saw this scene for the first time, I thought - " it is a perfect image of a mental health center". Nature, a simple quiet life, in some very isolated place.

If the "evil" part of Zhao Yuanzhou represents his greed for emotions and desire for absolute freedom. Then, fighting with this part, he turns to the other extreme - and this is the role of Wen Xiao in his life.

She is associated with an image of some kind of normality. Like a goddess, she has "pills", I mean, divine power, calming all demons. But what may be even more important is their history together.

When Zhao Yuanzhou was in a severe depression, the former goddess asked him to look after the young Wen Xiao. Probably not only for Wen Xiao's safety, but also for the demon's own mental stability. This contact could not cure Zhao Yuanzhou's depression, but such a calm presence in the life of another person gave support to his existence. And this is the beauty of their connection for me.

For me personally, this connection is not about passion, but about the fact that Wen Xiao gives others the strength to continue to be.

We often tend to underestimate the importance of such people in our lives. Their role is not as noticeable as those who make the heart beat faster and the soul sing. But in a difficult period, it is these people who separate us from jumping off a cliff. In this, I see the power of Wen Xiao as a person (not fully revealed, in my opinion, this could have been realized better), but as it was probably intended.

That is why she was able to grow that tree for three hundred years. It is not just about patience. It is the gift of being, which is different from the gift of life, but precedes it. The ability to give strength and stability to the world around. And to rely on reality as it is.

Therefore, it is Wen Xiao who represents for Zhao Yuanzhou the ability to exist without his entire internal opera theater of passions and desires. This part is stable, but it is absolutely separated at the other pole from his demonic part.

What is also symbolic is that in those moments when Zhao Yuanzhou does not argue with himself, but as if mixes in some kind of semi-delirium, he sees a completely different dream.

And this one is not at all peaceful and harmonious, it contains pain and a shade of nightmare, and at the same time it is also a way of life of his dream - the one in which Zhuo Yichen becomes a demon and takes the place in his life that Li Lun used to occupy.

And this dream is feverish and painful, because only the one who can make him alive can kill him, and being alive goes with pain, fear and confusing, these two sides go together.

[tangerineliqu0r]

Then It is a Good Dream

(Gil-Galad x reader)/(Sauron/Annatar x reader)

You were the only member of the envoy sent to warn Lord Celebrimbor of Sauron's disguise to make it to Eregion. Unfortunately, Sauron beat you there. You feel bound to Eregion by duty and find a welcome reprieve from the darkness in your dreams.

if you prefer reading on ao3

Warnings: smut (p in v, breeding, oral f receiving, dream sex?), noncon, manipulation bc its Annatar, Sauron is evil so so evil, reader is not winning

authors note: I definitely have more of an ending in mind for this if anyone is interested in a second or third part, it did end rather abruptly but I wanted to keep it under 5k

You arrived in Eregion on what felt like the hundredth day of rain. You were wounded and sopping wet, and your long hair stuck to your sallow cheeks. The journey from Lindon had not been easy. Orcs had slain the other elves with you, and you had managed to escape, though not without damage. You had been sent along as a guard for those carrying the message because you knew the truth of Halbrand’s identity. Now, you had one arm wrapped around your torso, holding yourself together, but just barely.

You stumbled in through the gates, searching for a familiar face among the guards who had run to you in alarm. Of course, you and the others had been warned of dangers on the roads, with orcs becoming ever stronger and present in the lands. The warning did not matter now, though, only the information you carried. Beyond the fear of death, you worried more that Sauron had already reached Lord Celebrimbor, in one form or another, to convince him to forge more rings.

You could not focus on the guard hauling you inside, your mind still swimming with worry for Lord Celebrimbor. Your mind was hazy with blood loss and the reminder of your duty.

When you woke, the first thing you noticed was the thick bandages wrapped around your torso. The second was that someone had washed and brushed the muddy mats out of your hair. Their efforts to return you to some semblance of care brought life you didn’t know you still carried back into your body. You had believed the wound would be fatal and had tirelessly traveled with no thoughts of your health and only of delivering your message.

“She should be awake now my Lord.” The sound of voices draws your attention to the door.

When the door opens, the kind face of Lord Celebrimbor graces your vision. He looks at you rather pityingly before your attention is drawn to an unfamiliar elf behind him. Golden hair drapes his shoulders, and he is dressed in dark robes. His face is unsettlingly calm. He stands behind Lord Celebrimbor with his hands clasped behind his back, watching the Lord with a blank gaze.

“My Lord Celebrimbor,” you greet him, attempting to sit up, though your weak body is wracked with a cough as you do.

“Be still, child; rest. Our healers have tended to your wounds. You are safe now.” He approaches your bed, resting a calming hand on your shoulder, though you know it is to prevent you from trying to rise again.

“I come from Lindon, bearing news, my Lord.” You start again, this time steadying your voice. “The rings have been successful; the great tree is healing.” Your eyes flit between the unnamed elf and Lord Celebrimbor, and you sink deeper into the heavy sheets as you speak, letting the weight dissipate from your body. You hope that to all present, it conveys your relief at telling them the news.

Lord Celebrimbor lights up at the news. His soft smile turns broad, and you cannot help the soft quirk of your lips in response. The unnamed elf with him smirks slightly before schooling his features. Lord Celebrimbor seems to notice your gaze and clears his throat before speaking. “This is Lord Annatar, my lady. He is a messenger of the Valar, a maia here to grant us his wisdom in the times to come.” He smiles at the elf looking at him with a deep kinship.

“The Lord of Gifts.” You speak slowly and your eyes flit back to the tall, fair-faced elf. Yes, this was him. You were sure of it. His eyes were cool, empty, and unsettling, his features too perfect. He was not the Lord of this Kingdom, yet he seemed to command the very air in which he breathed. Yes, you were sure that this pretender Annatar was Halbrand and, in turn, Sauron. And unluckily, it looked like he had Lord Celebrimbor wrapped around his pretty finger. The High King Gil-Galad had been right to send you along with those who had carried the message.

“Rest now, my child. Heal.” Celebrimbor is happy with the news you have delivered. Neither man notices the wariness in your voice. The two of them chat together softly as they leave your room. They speak of the forge, and Celebrimbor seems especially excited about your news and its prospects for his future work.

You lay in your bed alone when they are gone, finally able to breathe and think freely. You knew, based on the few observations of the interactions between the Lord Celebrimbor and Annatar, that you would not be able to free Lord Celebrimbor from him. His trust had been freely given. He had no reason to mistrust Annatar, and you feared that convincing him otherwise would be impossible. You worried for the Lord of Eregion, but you pushed him from your mind.

Instead, you thought of kinder things. You thought of Lindon and your King there. While Galadriel commanded the Northern armies, you commanded those of the South. You had entered his service before the second age had begun and had not left since. Your closeness with the High King was uncommon, though you were grateful for it. You were thankful for the comfort and security he provided. Now, you missed that closeness more than ever. You longed to be back in Lindon, wrapped in his sheets rather than locked in Eregion, in such close proximity to evil.

You missed him more than ever. You missed the sweet taste of his lips against your own and the feeling of his silken hair woven between your fingers. You longed to feel his skin against yours once more. And yet if he could advise you now, you knew he would encourage you to stay steadfast. He would implore you to stay in Eregion and keep a quiet watch over Lord Celebrimbor and Eregion’s other inhabitants, for it would not be safe as long as the deceiver walked its halls wearing a kind face. And so you would stay.

You rested for a week before the healers permitted you to move about Eregion freely again. Once you were allowed, though, you were readily invited by Lord Celebrimbor into the forge. Long had you known the Lord of Eregion, and even he knew you would grow restless quickly. You wished for nothing more than to return to training, return to the wilds, return to killing orcs, but the healers had forbade you from training for another week at the least, and you were now bound to Eregion by both duty and honor. So you assisted Lord Celebrimbor in the forge, little as you could.

“Fetch me my hammer, would you my Lady?” Lord Celebrimbor’s voice carries through the forge from his workbench to you. You follow his instructions with an easy demeanor. You were glad to be helpful in doing anything, and even more so to the Lord. You handed him the tool with a soft smile, glancing over his shoulder as he worked. You tried to be discreet but he noticed anyway.

“These are the latest designs for the rings, Lord Annatar has been helping me perfect them.” He sends you a soft smile, seemingly searching for approval. For an elf of such esteem, you understood how Annatar had so easily wormed his way into the man’s heart.

Your eyes flit over the pages, seven of them, you note. “They are beautiful, my Lord.” And they were. His work, despite being tainted by Annatar’s hand, was still one to marvel at. You look in awe at the pages, leaning over his shoulder. “May I?” You ask, reaching out a hand, wishing to examine them in greater detail.

He smiles brightly and stands ushering you to the seat, which you readily accept. You finger through the pages of work slowly, admiring both the beautiful strokes of charcoal and the designs they make up.

A sickly sweet voice reached your ears, though it was not Lord Celebrimbors. “Do you have much experience in smithing, Commander?” It is Annatar, the deceiver.

You look away from the pages, your fingers stilling as you glance over your shoulder to the man who has approached you and Lord Celebrimbor. “No, my Lord Annatar. I have not. But Lord Celebrimbor’s designs are beautiful all the same.” Your vision is drawn back to the pages.

“Who will carry these rings, my Lord?” You question Lord Celebrimbor. You see a glance pass between the two lords. “I apologize, my Lords, I do not mean to intrude upon your work. I will take my leave.” You stand from the table abruptly, suddenly aware that you are the other, not Lord Annatar.

“No, no, my dear child,” Lord Celebrimbor stills you with a soft word, “These are for the Dwarf Lords.” You are shocked at his admittance, and by a quick glance towards Annatar, you determine he is equally surprised, though he quickly schools his features.

You nod and consider your words carefully, knowing that they will likely determine if you are welcomed back into the forge. “If they are anything like the Elven rings, they will bring strength and security to the Dwarven cities.” You thumb through the pages again as you speak, doing so slowly as if to display awe.

Even Lord Annatar smiles softly at your words, and from that you know you’ve spoken well. Celebrimbor laughs heartily and clasps your shoulder with an excited smile.

“Yes, yes, exactly! We can give them the same ward against the darkness as we have found.” You are almost saddened by his joy. You know these rings cannot be true. To see such a great smith, so admirable a person, yet unknowing of what he would create, wracked your heart with pangs.

Lord Celebrimbor does not request your help again while you are in the forge. Instead, he lets you observe him as he works, and you notice, that Annatar observes you. He was rightfully wary of your presence. He had revealed himself to Galadriel and you had come from Lindon carrying a message from the High King himself. By all truths, he should be suspicious of you.

You are broken from your thoughts by Lord Celebrimbor’s voice. “Tomorrow we will begin forging them. But! Tonight we will celebrate the finishing of the designs.” Lord Celebrimbor is talking excitedly to Annatar, and both men are smiling.

Annatar looks away from Lord Celebrimbor to you, and you try not to shrink under his scrutiny. He speaks before you can question his observation of you. “Will you join us, Commander?” His tone is easy, but you do not trust it. Though you cannot deny him either.

“If the healers permit it.” You bow your head slightly to them.

“Nonsense! You will be under no great strain, and some wine and laughter will do you good child.” Lord Celebrimbor cuts in, quickly dismissing the only excuse you had to avoid their celebrations.

Later that night you had somehow been convinced to partake in both laughter and wine. You had more of both than you should have, given the circumstances. However, Lord Celebrimbor had refused to give you an easy night. Instead, he roped you into all the smith’s celebrations.

You had stuck to Lord Celebrimbor’s side for most of the night, watching the way the other smiths fawned over Annatar and listening to the great smith speak about whatever he wished. When he disappeared from your side and was replaced by Annatar, you were less than pleased.

“Why do you linger alone?” He sat next to you with a composure that none other in the room possessed, for they were all taken by the copious amounts of wine they’d been drinking.

“I do not belong here.” You realize, too late, that you have also had too much to drink to be speaking to the deceiver. You stiffen at your own words, your face blank if not a little sad.

He raises a brow at you but nods. “You are from Lindon, yes.” You think for a moment while he speaks. Perhaps you could gain his trust after all. You had watched him speak to each and every elf in the room tonight, charming them with pretty words, and they were all too welcome to it, due to his fair features and the wine they consumed. You knew he was gaining their trust and surely making sure none of them were threats to him. And now, he was trying to do the same to you.

You take a long drink of your wine, before letting your eyes turn to him. You understood why the others had fallen for it, his disguise, for it was a pretty one. An endearing smile graces your lips when you speak, “Ah yes, I do miss Lindon, though it is the people I miss much more.” Your mind flits to your High King and your cheeks burn red easily.

A slight smirk graces his features and with that, you are sure that your feigned drunken honesty is beginning to work. “Ah- someone waits for you in Lindon, anticipating your return.”

“Yes, I am bound to Lindon, by more than duty, my Lord.” You look down and reach for your wine glass, taking another sip before returning your eyes to his empty ones.

His eyes go to your hands, which fidget in your lap as if to draw his attention. “Though, you are unwed, are you not?” He raises a slender brow once more.

Your blush deepens further, and this time it is not due to your design. Even the tips of your ears burned red. “I am unwed. Though I am bound to another.” You clasp your hands together tightly, fiddling with your fingers to steady yourself. Elves were not known to bind themselves to partners and remain unwed. Yours would be a scandal should it be known. You knew you would never wed the High King Gil-Galad, nor did you wish to. Both of your perspectives on the matter were a rarity, and yet the two of you were content on finding comfort in each other and remaining each other’s closest friends.

He hums contemplatively and per your glance, he looks shocked. Your revelation has silenced the deceiver, though you are sure his silver tongue will not be stayed for long.

“Such devotion is admirable, Commander.” He replies and you know he is appeasing you. No true messenger of the Valar would support such a union. Any further reply he may have is halted by Lord Celebrimbor’s return.

“Ah, I am glad to see my two closest friends conversing so happily.” His cheeks are flush from the wine, and you cannot help but be amused, laughing as he joins the two of you. The three of you converse late into the night, and all the other smiths have retired when you stand and bid the men goodnight.

When you return to your rooms, you slip into your cool sheets with a lightness you have not felt in moons. You, for once, do not worry about Lord Celebrimbor or exposing your true intentions for being in Eregion. Rather, you think of Gil-Galad. You fall asleep with kind thoughts of your king dancing in your mind.

When you wake, you’re shocked, first, by the radiant light shining into your room, and second, by the realization you are in Lindon. A familiar, regal voice fills your ears and your fëa sings at the realization. Gil-Galad.

“Commander.” Your eyes find him, bathed in sunlight, his hair shining chocolate in the morning light. You spring from your bed at a speed you only possessed prior to your near-fatal injury, wrapping him in a tight hug. You bury your face in his hair, breathing in his scent, your fingers tightening in his robes.

The rumble of his chest, as he laughs, warms you in a way you did not know you craved. “What have I done to deserve such a greeting my Lady?” A large hand under your chin tilts your head back and brushes through your hair before gently cupping the side of your face.

You lean into his hand, turning so that you may kiss his palm. You press tender kisses to his hand, speaking softly against the soft skin as you do. “You have granted me a kindness and visited my dreams. I am far away and yet you are here, in my mind.”

He smiles softly, wistfully. “It is a good dream, is it not? I have long hoped I would wake in Eregion with you. It seems you have wished the same of Lindon and of me.”

You cup his cheeks softly as he speaks, your eyes searching his face. You try to account for every line and freckle gracing his cheeks, tracing them with feather-light touches as you do. “I would recount your every feature so that they are ever present in my waking mind.”

He smiles with a gentleness he is not usually graced with. You speak again, knowing your time is limited. “Come to bed, let us rest in the sunlight. We cannot be dragged away by duty here.” You take his hand, pulling him into the soft sheets with a practiced ease. He allows it, intertwining his fingers with yours.

He responds as he climbs into bed, following you, and giving you all of his attention. “You speak the truth, my love. Duty will not take us here.” You were glad for that. In Lindon, neither of you was ever indisposed for long. There were always duties to be upheld, whether they were kingly or those of a commander. Now, you were free from interruptions, save waking.

No sooner than both of you are settled in bed, does he have you atop him, pressed tightly against his chest, as he presses kisses into your hair. “You… the halls of Lindon feel empty without you gracing them.”

You sit up to observe him as he speaks, and the way he looks upon you, with such reverence, sets you alight. As does the gentle weight of his hands upon your hips. He follows your ascent though and captures your lips in a kiss. It conveys that which a thousand pretty words cannot, the longing, yearning for the closeness you once shared. You gasp into his mouth as his grip on your hips tightens, letting his tongue mingle with your own. He tastes of honey and pears, and you wonder if you taste of the deep red wine you had drunk so late into the night.

When the two of you part, your lips are but a breath from touching again, and the two of you pant, breathless from your unwillingness to part. You whisper, your words ghosting over his lips. “Gil- you feel so real. Your light shines so brightly, even here locked away within our dreams. My fëa sings at our reunion. I-”

He cups your face tenderly, affection clouding his eyes, as he gazes into yours. “Speak to me, dearest, what do you want.”

You consider him for a moment, before speaking. “I know this is only a dream. Yet, I cannot help but want you. I wish to feel your closeness, Gil. In this time, more than ever, I need you.”

He smiles again, brushing your hair from your face as he does. “You need only ask, dearest. I know this is only a dream, but I cannot fault you for that which I crave as well.”

You kiss him then, this time though, the two of you do not part at breathlessness. When your lips part, his find your throat, pressing open-mouthed kisses and bites to it, that are sure to leave marks on you. When he finds the most sensitive spot where your neck and shoulder join he sucks and bites at the tender skin there, marking you as his. Your eyes close and your mouth falls open in a heady gasp. You do not feel his hands leave your hips until they are in your hair and closing around the tips of your ears, rubbing gentle teasing stokes down their points.

“Gil!” You gasp at the touch. He was usually reserved in touching that erogenous zone, as it was seen as very intimate to all elves. Despite the two of you sharing a bed often, he had only twice before felt so strongly as to breach that intimacy.

“You are so beautiful, even more so when you are gasping my name.” He smiles and his hands still for a moment before they go to your sleep shift. Sheer as it was, he wanted you bare. He looks to you for your consent though. “I want to see you. May I?”

“Please.” Your voice is thick as he pulls it from your form, baring you to him. You are quickly pulling at the ties of his robes, wishing at this moment for nothing more than to feel the heat of his skin against yours. And once his robe is discarded with your shift in a heap on the floor, you feel it. He is burning hot, and the fire of his skin sets you alight.

You roll your hips against his tentatively, testing the waters. Your thighs bracket his hips tightly, squeezing him, as you try to contain your need. His hands go to your hips and begin to guide you, moving you against his quickly hardening cock. A groan escapes his lips as your folds catch on him, making his cock shine with your wetness.

In one quick movement, he has you beneath him. You lay on your back and he sits on his haunches between your thighs, spreading your legs with his thighs, pressing them open wider, until you are completely open to him.

“So beautiful…” He trails off as his fingers ghost over your stomach and then your thighs, avoiding the place he knows you want him more than ever. He caresses down your thigh and your calf and repeats the same over the other leg, at an agonizingly slow pace. When he drags his hands back up to your center, you consider begging and he knows it. “Use your words for me, dearest, tell me what you want.”

A whine escapes your lips before you find your words, “I need you to stretch me out on your fingers, my king, please.” The plea in your voice is enough for him and when he begins by slipping two large fingers inside you with ease your back arches off the bed. He curls them inside you, reaching for the spot he knows will make you drip wetness for him.

When he finds it, he grins. He watches the way you move underneath him, writhing in pleasure, begging for more. “Gil- please- I cannot wait any longer. I need you. I need you inside me.”

“So impatient, dearest. Do you crave the feel of my cock inside you that badly?” He teases you gently, slipping his fingers out of you. You reach up and capture his wrist between your slender fingers before bringing his hand to your mouth. You lick and then suck your wetness off his fingers. He is quick to lean down and capture your lips, tasting your cunt on your lips with a groan. With that, he pushes into you, slowly, tortuously. The stretch is as straining as you remember if not more and you’re suddenly reminded of why he usually took his time opening you up. His cock was much like his stature, imposing. He did not lack in girth or length and the stretch was bordering painful every time.

You rest your forehead against his, and he waits watching your eyes carefully as you focus on relaxing to accommodate him. When it seems like you have regained your composure he begins to move. He rolls his hips, driving his cock even deeper into you, leaving both of you gasping in pleasure. He starts slowly, kissing your throat as he opens you up. You gasp and whine at the intrusion, in near bliss at the feeling of being joined with him once more. Your eyes stay locked on his as you speak, your hands clutched in his hair. “Gil- you are- by the Valar Gil.”

He takes your broken words as encouragement and picks up his pace, lifting your legs over his shoulders, sending him impossibly deeper into you. Your head falls back now, and you babble incoherently as he plows into you. Your eyes finally snap, open when one of his hands slips between the two of your to rub rough circles on your clit. He is unrelenting and your babbling has morphed into loud moans. “Gil- My King- Please-.”

“Fuck- so tight- so wet, you’re driving me mad.” He begins to speak in broken sentences, and you know he is close. He does not let up though, pounding into you relentlessly.

“Please- please- fill me with your seed, my king. Gil- please.” You know the words that will drive him over the edge and your cunt clenches tightly around him as you speak. You feel the hot spurts of his seed coating your womb as he finishes inside you with a drawn-out moan. He pumps into you a few more uneven times, making sure you’ve taken all he can give. He pulls out of you but does not let your legs down, instead lowering himself to your cunt.

His hot breath on your folds, makes you clench and tremble with anticipation. A little breathless he looks up, meeting your eyes before speaking, “I’m sorry dearest, I can’t help myself when you speak such enticing words.” He presses a soft kiss to the inside of your thigh before he dives in like a man starved. His tongue begins a steady rhythm on your clit and his fingers are back inside you before you can anticipate them. Your gasps and moans of his name fill the room.

He keeps a steady pace, each curl of his finger punctuated by his name on your lips. Your vision goes white hot when his lips wrap around your clit and suck, his fingers never letting up. You finish with a cry of his name, your legs trembling over his shoulders. He continues sucking on your swollen bud until you put a hand on his shoulder to push him away.

“Ah- Gil, please, I cannot take any more, please.” He relents, letting your legs down from his shoulders and coming up to capture your lips in a deep kiss, collapsing on top of you, as if he has suddenly lost all strength.

“Gil!” You laugh as he lays his head on your chest. You can see his feet dangling off the end of the bed. Your fingers trace intricate patterns on his back before you wind them back in his hair.

“You are incredible.” He speaks, and you find his eyes upon yours once more.

“As are you, you have no idea how much I have missed this, how much I have missed you.” You speak with a wistfulness that is only made by separation.

“Don’t I?” He speaks and it is punctuated with a poorly concealed yawn. You are sharply reminded that your time remaining is limited when you feel a yawn bubbling in your throat.

“Come up here, let us fall asleep in each other’s arms. We can pretend, if only for a moment, that this is our reality and not only a dream.” He smiles gently before crawling up and wrapping you in his hold. His strong arms cage you against his chest and his long hair drapes over your shoulder tangling with your own. You do not know how long the two of you lay like that, breathing together until you drift off.

You are woken by sunlight streaming into your room. This time, though, the first thing you notice is that you are in Eregion, in a bed that is not quite yours, with the wound on your stomach screaming in pain. You sit up in bed with a sigh, memories from your dream still fresh. The second thing you notice is the undeniable dampness between your legs. You were not surprised by this but rather how wet you seemed to be. Your hand dips under the sheets and you slip two fingers between your folds, gathering some of the wetness before bringing your hand back up. You are shocked at the blackness that coats them. Pitch black seed coats your fingers and you feel the bile rise in your throat immediately.

You are out of bed and hunched over the nearest waste basket spitting up bile within seconds. Your wound screams at you as you wretch, unable to stop.

“Such a convincing visage was it not? Much like the one you’ve been putting on for the past week.” The honeyed voice of Annatar carries through your rooms.

Your eyes find him in horror and disgust. He stands at the end of your bed, watching you with a sick curiosity and a sadistic smirk. “You are foul. Deceiver.”

“Am I? Now, dearest, let us not be rude. I thought your fëa sung at our reunion.” He repeats your words to him with a wide smile gracing his cold face. You wretch into your wastebasket once more.

[darthmalewife]

Everyone in the disaster lineage, but Anakin is a weed smoker.

Yoda is always high, 4/20? No, 24/7.

Dooku is space Willie Nelson in his free time. Man has 100% answered Palpatine's evil old man facetimes blazed out his fucking tits. But Dooku prefers an edible, thinks it's classier. It isn't. He gets weird weed dreams.

Speaking of Willie Nelson, Qui-Gon smells like his bandana drawer at all times. Starts off his day with a nice wee joint. Avid dry mouth victim.

Obi-Wan prefers a joint late a night, it's been a long day, and he's utterly done. He offers Cody a toke, and every time without fail, they end up making out sloppy style but have to stop because someone starts giggling. Have ended up slow dancing in their kitchen before. However, they raided the cupboards for snacks after.

Ahsoka does not partake as much, however, when she does. It's a get high and watch The Muppets type of deal. She loves it, give her an edible, and put on Swedish Chef clips. She'll sit giggling for hours.

[ashbeneviento]

Hello, Evil Residents :)

I’d like to introduce you all to my Village OC (who was amazingly brought to visual light by my good friend @crowquillustrate on insta🖤)

OC: Datura

Named after the sacred Datura flower (Hallucinogenic and possibly deadly if ingested improperly)

Age: 27/Immortal

Physical Characteristics: 5’3, Pale skin, Long wavy brown hair, Hazel Eyes. Has a scar that travels under her eye down to her neck from a Lycan Attack.

Background: Datura grew up on a farm just outside the Village with her parents and little brother Sebastian. When she was 18 a pack of rogue Lycans destroyed her home, killing her mother and brother first. Datura was attacked but her father sacrificed himself to save her, leaving her to fend for herself.

Mother Miranda took her in for a few years before sending her over to work for Donna.

Personality: Datura is hard headed but kind hearted. She immediately bonded with Angie, who reminds her of her little brother. It takes her a while to get used to Donna though, who always seemed to hide herself away from her. Datura CAN be cruel, especially when she feels disrespected. Does she go a little overboard sometimes? Yes, yes she does.

Hobbies: Datura likes taking walks at night, despite Donna’s wishes. (She’s worried for her safety) She’s a painter, a violinist, sometimes she likes playing the piano as well but she would rather listen to Donna play instead. She picked up on scientific hobbies from her stay with Mother Miranda, and likes to experiment with tea making/making medicine for the Village folk. Hunting.

Sexuality: Datura is sapphic but doesn’t really have a preference other than Donna. Would consider her grey ace. Likes to explore new things in the bedroom but would rather spend her time watching vintage romance movies and cuddling up to her love.

Relationships: Partner, Donna obviously.

She likes spending the night at Alcina’s and has a soft spot for Cassandra. She loves hunting so she brings the Dimitrescus the finest of her catches.

Karl reminds her of her father but hates visiting his factory (bc of the Lycans) but she learns to love them eventually.

Sal loves when she visits the reservoir. She made him a special tea that stops him from throwing up and built him a brand new boat for him to go fishing in. He calls her Deetee.

Mother Miranda also has a soft spot for her (though she tries to deny it every chance she gets) Miranda didn’t give Datura the cadou because she wanted to use her as a vessel, instead she felt sorry for her and actually asked Datura for permission. She’s the reason Miranda has came to terms with Eva’s death and has learned to appreciate the four Lords as they are. She’s getting there, don’t worry.

Other: Datura is noturnal. She doesn’t need to sleep as much so she can be awake for days on end, but most active at night. Where Donna can control the pollen to cause hallucinations, Datura does so through her eyes. Sometimes when she dreams those dreams happen in real life. Prophetic. Her bite is poisonous and causes the victim to calcify, though she’s only had to use that power once. It does not work on those affected by the cadou, so Donna is immune.

She can teleport but isn’t very good at it.

(Once she tried to teleport into the village and she ended up scaring the mold out of Miranda who was in the middle of making coffee, ouch)

I plan on posting fanfic drabbles on here once I get the chance! I’d love to talk about Datura more and meet your Res8 OC’s as well, it’s good to be back in the Village 😉

Please do not share this art without proper credit to the artist, you may not use my OC as your own.

[jessilynallendilla]

Charlastor/Radiobelle AlastorXCharlie

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The Taxidermist  (EX) 

It's strange how things happen sometimes. Only three words are needed to ensure that a curious person does exactly what you expect them to. These three simple words will never fail you: Don't do it. It happened. She did it. And she was too late. 

Smiling Man  (EX 387,376) 

Moving to New Orleans to start up her rehabilitation hotel for criminals hasn't been all berries for Charlie, especially if everybody thinks you're some Dumb Dora with a complete horseshit plan. And it's another jam that she's starting to get stuck on Alastor, the charming yet eccentric radio host next door who's never fully dressed without a smile. But she's all smiles too, and that's made her out to be quite the dish to Alastor - in all senses of the word - and boy, was he ready to be entertained. 

Heaven Hell and Earth (T) 

A girl born of Heaven and Earth, a boy born of Hell and Earth, two hybrids raised in a secret organization that defends mankind from paranormal dangers. Both unaware that they were prophesied to bring about the world's end even though they have spent years protecting it. Which raises the question: Who decides their fate? And will the loving bond they share with each other and those around them be able to overcome the terrible hardships they must face? 

Nightshade Manor  (M) 

Charlie Morningstar only wrote to novelist Rosie Parish, to ask for advice on writing her own book. But instead she was invited to spend a few days at the historic Nightshade Manor. An elegant but mysterious estate located in an equally mysterious town. When she arrives it isn't long before she suspects that the town hides a very big secret. That the manor is occupied by something unspeakably evil. And that the master of the household, Alastor Nightshade has certain plans for her. If she hopes to get herself and her friends out of this situation alive then she must use clues from the past and messages from the dead to break a devil's curse. But the irresistible pull of forbidden love may or may not seal her to a doomed fate. 

A Horrific Fantasy   (T) 

Once upon a time there was a lonely girl who much preferred to live in a fantasy than in reality. One day she was drawn into a world of extraordinary imagination, where anything is possible and things are not always what they seem. At first she thinks it's a dream come true but she eventually learns that a fantasy is not always sunshine and rainbows. That there is a dark, more horrific side to it that threatens her and her loved ones. Now she must use faith and her own creativity to outsmart the evil that rules this world and rely on the aid of a strange boy who only wants to give her his heart. 

The Devil Take The Hindmost   (EX) 

Alastor Doucet’s ambition drives him to summon an infernal fiend, ready to enter a binding pact in exchange for arcane powers. But the Devil he summons isn’t very interested in his soul. She is determined to find an alternative to the brutal mass extermination of her people. In a desperate bid to prove that redemption is both possible and worthwhile, she journeys to the mortal realm to redeem sinners straight from the source. This tale features dark magic, jazz, the economic crash of 1929, Louisiana, a serial-killing radio host, and the blossoming trust between two very unlikely allies during desperate times. 

Beneath The Mask (EX) SERIES 

For every trial, for every task, there is a corresponding mask. A frown, a smirk, a pout, a grin, They shield the soul contained therein. But masks and faces, and manners too, disguise the single face that’s true. The face that’s under the facade, the one the foolish, charmed and awed, profess to see, to claim to know, although they’ve never seen it show. And so they pry through charm and guile, in hopes to see what’s ‘neath that smile. However, they are unaware, that mask and face are not a pair. For those that pry soon come to find they don’t like what’s hiding behind, because the face once locked within, might not be that charming grin. And thus the wise are dread to ask to see what’s there beneath the mask. 

You’ll Never Find Me  (M) 

New Orleans - early 1920's - Right after the sunset and the moonlight shines above the city, a radio host crosses paths with a young woman who has just arrived. She seems lost and has no place to stay. The man kindly offers his help. They thought they would never see each other again, but their paths keep crossing each other's. Time makes them connect to each other, but little do they know they are more alike than they believe: Both of them have their own dark secrets, but it gets harder to hide as they keep getting closer. Maybe it's destiny, maybe it's meant to be, either way, the cards have been played and now they have to fight against the rules of both of their worlds. 

Penance  (EX) 

“I’m interviewing you to see if you’d be a potential candidate for my rehabilitation idea. If you don’t live under a rock, you’d know that Hell is overpopulated—specifically the Pride Ring with Sinner demons. And the exterminations are… brutal,” she bit out, “senseless murder… these are my people. Some of them find a new life down here, some of them start families and make friends. I want to give them the opportunity to better themselves, and find a way out of this ring. It’s not fair.” 

“Fair?” A harsh scoff from the one before her, “Darling, we’re not here to be fair.” 

Charlie is given a rather impossible task by her father in order to contact Heaven for her project—she has to redeem one of Hell's most unforgivable sinners. 

Requiem For A Mourningstar (EX) 

Paranormal Investigator Charlotte Morningstar is headed to her ancestral home to finally uncover the dark secrets her family has been hiding for generations. But past sins are not the only evils lurking on Pentagram Rock. And Charlie soon finds out there's far more hidden in the dark than she bargained for. 

Oh Deer!  (EX 23,040) SERIES 

When rutting season brings Alastor to his breaking point, he tries to hold off on his very undignified desires. As time progresses he contains himself until Charlie’s own heat cycle is thrown off by life stress. When their seasons line up, nothing good can come of it. 

The Mark Of Judgement  (M) 

In the aftermath of his battle with Adam, Alastor sustained a wound that refused to heal. With each passing day, the wound grows. With each wretched act, the mark upon his chest makes itself known. Alastor was being judged, not by Heaven or Hell, but something else. Something without a name. And so Charlie, in her infinite goodness and need to help, has put it upon herself to try and save Alastor’s soul while simultaneously running her hotel. But the mystery only deepens the further the duo dives. Questions of fate, uncertain feelings, and connections that neither expected, come to light as they grapple with ‘The Mark of Judgment.’ 

Human Hotel Field Trip   (EX  26,357) 

A slowish-burn of Charlie and Alastor taking a field trip topside for the "business experience." And end up experiencing a seismic shift in their relationship. Oh, and there's a 1920s bash at the hotel. Just to piss Alastor off. 

Sinner And Salvation  (T 83921)  

In 1930's New Orleans, Alastor Bordeaux - famous radio host and undiscovered serial killer - stumbles upon a mysterious young woman deep in the Bayou. Not a charitable man by any means, but there's more to this girl than meets the eye - a power he can use for a little problem of his own... Unfortunately for him, Charlie has absolutely no memory of who or what she is! Left to pick up the pieces of a life she doesn't remember as she recovers under the kindness of a stranger, when the past comes calling will they be able to handle it or will dark secrets doom them both? 

Under My Skin  (EX) 

The new and improved Hazbin Hotel is open for business, and with a steady flow of guests seeking redemption, Charlie couldn't be happier. But when Alastor continues to shirk his duties as the hotel's host, she has no choice but to confront him. She's shocked to find him shut away in his radio tower, slowly succumbing to his deadly angelic wound. Much to the radio demon's chagrin, she dedicates herself to his recovery. Maybe his brush with death made him sentimental. Or maybe the infection from his wound messed with his brain. Whatever the reason, Alastor finds himself not only enjoying the princess's company but yearning for it long after he's recovered. More than just her positive energy begins to creep under his skin, and as he starts to see her in a new light, he begins to question things about himself and his reasons for being at the hotel. 

I Do Ms. Malveaux  (EX) 

Caught with a corpse between his legs, infamous serial killer Alastor Malveaux agrees to marry Charlie, the canary down at Rosie's Emporium and Speakeasy. While inconvenient, it wasn't a bad idea to get hitched to the doll, especially with her dire circumstances that pushed her to marry a murderer in the first place. Yep, Alastor could have his cake and eat it too. There were absolutely no setbacks to this plan and he could live as he wanted, unattached to his pretty little wife. His wife...Ha ha! 

Your Love Is My Torment  (EX) 

Nothing was out of the ordinary on that Morning in January for the Radio Host , But after he fires his rifle at a unusual looking doe in woods , He discovers that there are things in this world that cannot be explained and now he and her are thrown together in an ever changing , twisting love story that eventually becomes their torment and the beginning of a bloody history between them both, that will follow them to hell and back again . 

If You Like Pina Coladas!  (EX) 

As a rule Alastor could not be convinced to do anything that did not benefit him. Therefore the man was struggling to understand why he had agreed to this farce. Yet here he was, on Vacation in the human world with Charlie. He wondered how he had allowed himself to be talked into this.

The Riddle Of Magic   (M) SERIES 

Alastor and Charlie have struck a deal: He’s agreed to teach her magic; but what does he get in return? Seven spells, to understand magic’s most fundamental law. If the teacher asks, the student must answer: What is the Riddle of Magic? 

Just Roll With It   (M) 

To get Adam to agree to another year before another extermination, Alastor and Charlie say they are getting married. To each other. It’s a problem, and they need to fix it…or Just Roll With It 

A Tail Of Beignets (EX) SERIES 

After finding out the extermination would be 6 months early Charlie felt she deserved an evening for feeling sorry for herself and a few bottles of wine. She told herself it was a form of self care. A mini holiday. But she didnt expect to meet Alastor making beignets in the kitchen. She also didn't realise he had a fluffy tail. 

Bernadette   (M) SERIES 

Charlie has enough of everything going bad in her life, her parents returning after yet another failure was the last straw, so she join forces with Alastor and took over, as they literally brought heaven to hell. Vaggie, alongside unlikely allies, needs to stop the tyranny they presented while surviving on the mess they created. Will she succeed? 

Bride Of The Radio Demon  (M 50,501) SERIES 

A long time ago, an Overlord by the name Alastor plunged Hell into fear because of his power. The Seven Deadly Sins were able to weaken him and made him disappear to never be seen again. Seven years later, Alastor returned more powerful than ever. The only thing that would get him to stop terrorizing Hell is a few things in return. ... Including a willing bride to marry, who just so happens to be the Princess of Hell herself, Charlie Morningstar. Can she tame and melt the heart of the Radio Demon? 

A Different Kind Of Hell  (M) 

Heaven and Hell were often cut off from one another. Word got around but otherwise there was radio silence. Until Charlie and Alastor stormed Heaven’s gates. 

The Radio Songbird  (T) 

After not surviving a car crash, Charlie Magne finds herself in Hell. Unsure what she could have done to end up there she tries to make the most of her new situation. Making a minor agreement with the menacing but friendly radio demon. Alastor finds this new sinner quite charming, and her voice even more so. He offers her a place to live in exchange for singing on his radio show. Eventually hoping to lure the young woman into a more permanent deal, wanting to keep the little songbird under his thumb. Meanwhile Lucifer finds out someone has misplaced the Princess of Hell. 

Your Sweet Radio Demon   (M) 

Unaware of his true intentions, Charlie begins to develop feelings for Alastor. This doesn’t go unnoticed by the faux affable demon, who intends to take full advantage of the situation for his nefarious purposes. Vaggie, the only one aware of his true intentions, bows to do whatever it takes to protect her. Unfortunately for Alastor, those aren’t the only players of his little game. Two people from his past have set their sights on him and intend to expose him for who he really is. Charlie might have to question if she can set aside her ideals for him and Alastor will be obligated to question whether he's willing to compromise for someone else 

Soul Bound   (M) 

Charlie Morningstar has always been a curious girl with an active imagination unlike any other kid. Unfortunately, a creative mind such as hers comes with its downsides, such as lack of common sense and naivety that would often get her into strange predicaments. Luckily she has her guardian, Alastor, who has sworn to always protect her from harm for as long as she lives, but in exchange she must give her soul to him on the dawn of her 18th birthday to ensure they will be tied together for eternity. As she grows up, she begins to feel stronger feelings towards her protector. But the mysterious "friend" of hers raises concerns for her parents, who start to wonder if this imaginary friend she's made up is more than what she says... 

Fantasies Unwind (T) 

A collection of Charlastor works that explore other universes and fairy tales 

All It Takes  (M) 

Sometimes, all it takes is a moment, a single reckless choice... When Charlie, with the help of her friends, decides to throw a party to support her struggling hotel, little does she know that nothing will ever be the same. A few weeks later, her life takes a dramatic turn as she finds herself pregnant. The problem? No one remembers what happened that fateful night.Caught in the tangled web of her own choices, Charlie must confront her parents, her girlfriend Vaggie, and the judgmental eyes of everyone in Hell. How will she handle taking care of the Hazbin Hotel and a child? And who is this mysterious man claiming to be the father? Amidst the chaos and tangled relationships, Charlie learns that sometimes, to find happiness, one need not chase the rainbows but simply open their eyes to the world around them. 

A Lamb Astray  (NR) 

With his daughter on the lamb Lucifer couldn't exactly send the best Angels he had. Instead he's got some of the worst Sinners out trying to shepherd her home. Of course, what is simple in theory is seldom the same in practice especially when one shepherd is more a wolf in masquerade than anything else. 

Kiss Me Through The Radio  (NR) 

A Series of Charlastor stories that I couldn't turn into full length fics. Enjoy the musings of my mind and prompts from my friends! 

The Vacation From Hell   (T) 

The plan was simple: indulge the Princess of Hell in a little trip to a ‘human hotel,’ then sit back and enjoy her suffering once she realized what a farce hers truly was. That was how it was supposed to go anyway. Unfortunately for Alastor, Fate had other plans. 

I’ve Got No Strings On Me   (T 1,244) 

Charlie quietly unstitches Alastor's smile after freeing him from his deal 

Darling  (EX) 

When Alastor made a deal with Charlie Morningstar, he knew it was a chance for him to ascend the ranks. Now that it's been weeks since the events of the extermination battle, Alastor decides it's time to collect...what he didn't expect was to slowly fall for the Princess of Hell. But hey, a deal's, a deal. 

Appetites  (EX) 

Charlie and Alastor have just recently established a relationship that is now more than just business partners. Now that their relationship is out in the open, the two of them begin to have several intimate and sexual in counters in various places of the Hotel... when they should be working. 

A Wolf Wears Red  (EX) 

We all know the story of Little Red Riding Hood. But what if the wolf was the one wearing red? In that case who would be the wolf, and who is their prey? 

A Distant Memory  (EX  4,049) 

Alastor remembers the one and only being he had ever connected with but he had forgotten her and when he remembered.... It was too late 

Blood Sweat And Tears (English Version)  (EX) 

Alesteir Doucet, or as he likes to introduce himself: Alastor, is a criminal on the verge of execution. On the other hand, in Nazi Germany, a blonde young girl has been summoned from a portal of an occult research squad. The stories of Charlotte, the princess of hell, summoned by the Nazis, and Alastor will mixed in the years leading up to WWII. 

Firsts  (G 6,911) 

Charlie is planning Dawn's first birthday. Alastor thinks it's silly, she's only one! 

In Another Life  (T 20,044) 

It's 1932, Alastor Barrios is a radio host, known as "The Radio Demon" in New Orleans. He leads a pretty normal life, aside from the killing, cannibalism and hunting. He develops a routine: wake up, hunt, eat, go to work, go to the speakeasy for a drink, go home, repeat and he's sick of it. That all changes, however, when he goes to the speakeasy and hears Mimzy's newest singer. Everyone in Hell wonders how Charlotte Magne is so...cheery. She doesn't act like the rest of them. For her, that means she barely has any friends and the ones she does she never sees. Earth is her only chance of escape, and if she has to be up there, she's going to perform and she's going to have a great time doing it as the Devil From Heaven. 

The Golden Haired Demoness  (NR 1,525) 

And Alastor couldn’t help but find her absolutely breathtaking when she was covered in blood. A deep hunger in him awoke at the sight of her porcelain skin being smeared with the red thick liquid. It didn’t help that she loved to sing occasionally when they were out hunting as well. Her beautiful voice filling his ears and heart as he’d stop and stare at the tall demoness twirl around in the dead of night, without a care in the world. Or Alastor tries to summon a demon and is surprise to see that he had summoned the princess of hell herself. 

Something Unspoken  (M 4,075) 

Alastor and Charlie have to make major adjustments to their lives after a spell gone wrong. Perhaps it's not all bad as somethings come to light... 

A Small Interruption   (G 571) SERIES 

St. Peter just ruined a moment between the young seraphim and her secret lover 

Obsess With Her Soul  (M) 

Her soul is like a human's: soft, caring, extremely gentle and sweet. Alastor could have been wandering around all his eternity in Hell, but he'd be damned if he wouldn't try to get her for his own personal purposes, which later would no longer make any sense. 

All Of Creation   (T 727) 

He didn’t ask, all those months ago. Charlie just leaned on him, slowly approaching to give him the choice. She kissed him. And he let her. 

Final Farewell   (G 7,367) 

As Alastor gets redeemed it is time to say goodbye to Charlie. What is she supposed to do when everyone she held dear is gone? 

Like A Lamb To Slaughter   (EX) 

In seeking to deny a prophecy already written, four kings of creation inadvertently create their very demise. Now a vessel for an imprisoned god Charlie must foster a flock and guide them. But will it be in the ways of the one she serves or will she take a different path? 

Eden (M 3,119)

Charlie has no memory of her past life. Alastor, on the other hand, does.

Unexpected Happenings (M)

Alastor Nightengale, the famous Radio Host is hardly the charming man everyone believes him to be. Talking up a storm into his mic during the day and hacking innocent individuals to bits in the night.... Content with how entertaining things are he couldn't even fathom the possibility of a pawn coming so easily into his hands but this, Charlie fellow is unlike anyone he's ever known...what makes her so special? She could be used but something didn't feel quite right. When they meet again in hell, that something deepens.

Dearest Little Pet (EX)

‘Interesting...’ he mused, ‘A flicker. How long can I play with her before she cracks? It’s been a while since I had a pet to play with.’ Alastor and Charlie begin their work together and the Radio Demon has found a new toy to play with while the hopeful sinners they treat bumble around. Little does he know, he may be falling into his own emotional trap as well. Denial can be a terrible thing.

The Last Petal (M)

It was the chipper year of 1933. Alastor was in his mid 20's, being a typical radio host by day..but by night he was up to no good. Due to his newfound passion for the kill, Charlie whom was in hell wanted to intervene, sure she didn't have to but she had nothing better to do due to her old project failing on her. With her own power (and her father allowing her); she Left hell and went to earth..to possibly stop Alastor and help him to ensure his redemption and ticket into heaven. She was no angel, but being the daughter of a fallen one is all it took.

To Love And To Let Go (G 1,964)

Alistair, a radio host from New Orleans with a dark past must accept the sad hand dealt to him; and find a way to keep the one he loves safe.

Push And Pull (T)

It was just business. Or at least, that's what this arrangement was supposed to be.

Radio Demon May Cry (M)

After suffering a shameful defeat at the hands of Adam. Alastor was forced to flee and recover his strength. In his pain and isolation he contemplated about a few things that has happened in his afterlife, and realized two absolute truths: that he needed more power and that Charlie is very important to him. So the question now is, how can The Radio Demon hope to protect the one he cherishes the most if he can’t even protect himself?

My Professor is a Vampire, That’s the Tea!   M 

Anthony and Charlie have been friends since childhood, growing up together, going through school, and now it is time for them to attend College. However, Charlie soon discovers about rumors about their literature teacher having a few dark secret. 

“He is a VAMPIRE Charlie! An evil, blood sucking VAMPIRE!” Anthony screams at her. 

Now the two trouble making students are working together attempting to expose and take down this terrifying force. Mr. Alastor however is not a fan of their antics and just wishes they would focus on his lectures. What will he do when they fully discover his secret? Come discover their College adventures! 

Broadcast   EX 215973 

Alastor's ratings are taking a dive in numbers and he needs to figure out a way to get back on top. His show producer, Rosie, has the idea to bring on a local, ambitious young woman who is trying to start her own rehabilitation program for the city. The young woman who also happens to be Charlie Morningstar, daughter of New Orleans's most talked about politician. Alastor doesn't believe that Charlie's project will really work, but if he gets his ratings up, isn't that what's important? What he didn't factor, of course, was the chokehold that the young woman would have on him 

[billwidoll]

Everyone was afraid of him, Everyone knew who he was, He was a Rich, Crazy and Temperamental guy. He was prejudiced against the poor people of the island and everyone knew it and some rich people began to dislike them.Poor because of him...Rafe Cameron. But what would happen if he fell in love with Uma Pougue?

Pure Evil || Rafe Cameron 1

♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣

It was the Fourth of July. And everyone was celebrating the date, even the university students and this time the King of the island, Rafe Cameron, was hosting the party. He was commanding and dismantling anyone

Rafe never cared about love he always preferred money, Rafe just wanted to get ahead in life and not fall in love, but not everything went planned

"Man, it's full of hot girls here!" Topper comments with Rafe at his side

"And my friend, let's enjoy it" Rafe says with a mischievous smile

Everything was going well until Rafe spots a certain unwanted person.

"What is that naughty Pougue doing here? She's not even a college student!" Rafe comments hatefully and goes after you, even before Topper appeases you.

You were talking and smiling like a beautiful princess, and Rafe thought it was weird that you talked to rich people like that, but he was going to kick you out anyway

"What the fuck are you fucking doing here?" Rafe says, pulling his arm and making him look very close

"I was invited Rafe..." you say as if you were a scared and defenseless bunny

"who invited you? I didn't go" Rafe says harshly and laughing

"Look, I think I better go. I know I'm not welcome wherever you are" You say, ready to go but Rafe grabs you by the arm

"...look... You can stay here, you don't look like a rat like those Pogues, but don't think I'm doing charity" Rafe speaks in a deep voice, just a little in his eyes you could see that he felt sorry or liked you

"Hey man! Don't I exclude the girl?" Topper asks drinking his beer and seeing that you were still at the party

"No, she didn't seem like a threat to me and she doesn't even make me that embarrassed, she's so fragile..." The last word Rafe speaks in a hoarse voice and almost whispering

"and she's hot too, I think I'm going to do well today" Topper says giving you a mischievous smile

And Rafe feels a little uncomfortable when he hears that, you were so... small and... he couldn't describe it in words, you seemed cute and untouchable, you were certainly a virgin

"man! She's a lot of space for your little truck" Rafe says looking sternly at Topper

"Ah... being jealous Rafe? Keep cool, I'll leave the crumbs for you" Topper says this laughing and Rafe's blood boils instantly

Rafe throws his glass of beer on the floor and hits Topper in the face with his fist. When he does this, he ends up drawing the attention of everyone at the party, even his own...

When Topper fell Rafe looks around at the people who were shouting excitedly about the fight, Rafe looks at you, that look that calmed him down from everything. It seemed like you were an angel. But anyway, Rafe ends up leaving Topper falling with a black eye and goes up to his room furious.

Until he hears someone at the door

"Your hand...it's hurt..." You speak almost in a whisper and Rafe is surprised by your suddenness.

"I know, little mouse. But who cares?" Rafe says, sitting on the bed and rolling his eyes.

"I...I care about people who get hurt" you say looking into his eyes, and he was trying to avoid looking at you

"But I shouldn't have! I'm a threat to you guys" Rafe says looking at you and holding his arms and shaking

"I still care! If you hate me so much why did you let me stay at the party?" You say crossing your arms and trying to challenge Rafe

"Because....I'm trying to do charity." Rafe speaks without knowing what to say

"Oh my God. You're ridiculous and I'm an idiot!" You say, leaving the room quickly, leaving Rafe crestfallen.

After that night, Rafe never forgot you, never stopped thinking about you. You appeared in his dreams, in visions, in hallucinations, he was obsessed and fascinated by you And he needed to see you wherever you were.

And he went to the Pougue territory and asked some residents where you lived and they said Rafe was driving there

Rafe got there, but he didn't know how to talk to you. So he put some music on in his car and turned it up, waiting for you to put your head in the window

"Y/N!" He screams, waiting for you to appear at the window

Until he sees you appearing in his bedroom window

"What are you doing here Rafe?" You ask innocently and surprised

"I came to apologize to you... for being ignorant" Rafe says with a trembling voice, why did you leave him like that?

You don't say anything, I just left the windowm And goes to the living room to open the front door for Rafe

When you opened the door, you saw Rafe's bright blue eyes and Rafe saw your bright brown eyes.

"it was just that?" You ask looking deeply into his eyes.

"Well...and...I'm just sorry. And that you're really nice and...I'm used to those types of people." Rafe speaks looking at the ground asking for help

"And by the way, how is your hand?" You ask taking his hand and checking it.

"ahh... It's already healing" Rafe says giving you a small, sweet smile, it was the first time he was being nice

"I'm happy Rafe!" You say, giving a huge, beautiful smile and when Rafe saw that smile of yours, he was more enchanted than he already was.

"Do you want to go out with me?" Rafe speaks without thinking and it makes you startle and laugh immediately afterwards.

"Okay... you hated me, now you're asking me out?" You say letting out a laugh

"How about a truce? I'll pick you up at seven?" Rafe says smiling

"Okay then...I accept, Rafe Cameron!" You say smiling and that makes Rafe the happiest person in the world.

And little did you know that you would become Princess Kook after this meeting

[cearthduo]

if you're still bitching about the existence of dream apologists in this day and age irdk what to tell you other than you might need to pick a new fandom. preferably one without a single villain in it. or at least one with a villain who has no character traits outside of "i'm evil"

like harry potter or smth idk

[baalfegorth]

x ⸻ : #baalfegorth .. and there will be blood. ❳❳ ❳ לְאַזֵן

Nero Salith Baalfegorth, son of archangel michael, son of devil lucifer and son of the lovely devil queen lilith. conceived by two, each one the opposite of each other, born by one that is cursed to never be able to give any other life, nero's soul's split into good and evil. lost in the loving arms of his mother, chosen to serve one of them, heaven or hell. they'll drag him into the abyss by his broken legs, they tear him into heaven by his heavy arms, to be the one to end all wars, once and for all.

ooc & tw » "own character portrait", independent. no 24/7 - be patient, only in character \ only 21+ minors dni, german preferred, thanks!

please be aware of any triggering content, plotting with me will end in pure gore, blood, sexual topics, mental illness,, death, violence, drugs, religious disputes and every kind of phobias.

to my mother, Lilith ⸻ forsaken. i crawled through the endless screams of the burning desert. drifted thirsty and lifeless over the murky depths of the never ending seas. i was swallowed up by the gusts of wind of the murderous bays without any hold. your love, fed by the hatred of the religious people i got from you, gives me the strength to let forgotten things burn again in the eyes of all people. even if the rotten gates to hell are closed, i always find my way back to you in my damned dreams.

to my fathers, Michael & Lucifer ⸻ divided, but one. never wanted, but forced to be. through the wrath of the devil and the charity of the archangel, an violent, eternal battle between life and death, hate and love, runs through my bloody fucked up veins. your life is worth nothing to me, i'll do anything and everything to bring an end to your unscrupulous, decayed souls. through you, i've become an unstoppable warrior who will tear your everlasting hearts apart.

And when everything falls apart, i'll stand up here and triumph with my flag held high.. forever.

[leikeliscomet]

Thoughts on Umbrella Academy's Ending and What it Says About Abuse - SPOILERS FOR SEASON 4 AHEAD

(A Mini Essay If You Will)

What makes the ending of The Umbrella Academy devastating, and I mean an absolute tragedy isn't that just the characters we love are gone, but that they genuinely don't mean anything.

Luther started as the boy that did everything right but still wasn't enough for his father. He ended up repeating the cycle by feeling like he had to take control of every situation. He eventually lived life for himself, found Sloane and put his wants and needs first for the first time in his life after being raised to think his needs never mattered.

Diego felt like he was a 2nd fiddle, almost literally, and felt like he had to prove himself to Reggie. He took his inferiority out on everyone else. He finally realised he was good enough and didn't need his father's validation anymore. He became the father his father never was. He finally realised he was good enough.

Allison felt insecure and that she had to manipulate people into getting what and who she wanted. She finally made peace without those things and people and reconnected with her daughter after losing custody all those years ago. She finally became the mother she always wanted to be. She wanted to earn things by herself and she did.

Klaus spent his whole life haunted (almost literally) by his own failures. He worked so hard to get sober and he did. After feeling like the most useless member of the team his whole childhood, he mastered his powers and realised his own strengths, after living his life thinking he had none.

Five felt held back and not pushed enough. He blamed his siblings for holding him back and thought he was better than them. After apocalypse after apocalypse he realised he couldn't do it alone. He convinced himself he preferred being alone because he was scared to be vulnerable. He finally got what he wanted. A family. A community.

Ben's life ended before it even really began, but he at least got to see his siblings grow and develop without him. Sparrow Ben lost everyone both emotionally and physically. He had everything he wanted and still lost it all. With Jennifer, for once in his life, there was something, someone, he didn't need to prove himself or win at. He found someone that accepted him for him.

Viktor was neglected his whole life and was the constant outsider. He bottled up everything inside to the point of destruction of himself and of others. He finally accepted himself fully. His skills, his transition, his relationships, his life. He finally got the confidence and closure he needed to move on and be fulfilled.

Lila was haunted from the start in a cycle of murder and manipulation. She continued that cycle because she wasn't taught anything else. She was so scared she'd be like the Handler when she became a mother, but she didn't. She loved them in ways she was never loved. She got the family she always dreamed of.

Every single character despite the abuse they suffered still got closure and peace in their own way. They all grew. They all matured. They all thrived after being told that they never would.

And the show says this doesn't matter. They don't matter. They don't deserve to exist. They're all the problem. They will always be problems. They'll never escape their trauma. They will always be nothing but the byproducts of their abuse. They'll never be anything else but that. And because of that, none of them should live. And that's fucking horrifying. Despite this mess of an ending and the rasclart messaging it sends, I'll never see these characters as inherent problems or evils. I know they're not angels either but that was never the point. As Five once said, there are no good guys and bad guys, just people living their lives. Trauma messes shit up. Things get messy and complicated. In this show, or at least season 1, they were brave enough to tackle that mess. They all had the chance. They all all had potential. And we all saw it all. Don't forget that. The characters may be gone, but that potential was there. It was real. It existed.