#so please forgive me if it's not very good

[fromchaostocosmos]

I've had unfortunate "luck" to interact with some of these people and to they do like trans men, they do not accept trans men, and in no way shape or form do they view them as men.

They quite literally view trans men as broken brainwashed girls who are confused and need to be fixed.

What they want to do to trans men is very scary.

For a lot of these types of people they believe that if these "girls" were to be with the right man, become pregnant, and have a family that would fix them.

They also do a lot of initializing and will use girls not women even as the misgender adult trans men.

And for all some of them may talk about accepting tomboys what the underlining viewpoint of the majority is this:

Trans men are not men they are girls who tomboys when children and their parents indulged them too much so they never grew out of the phase like all proper girls should and now they been taken advantage of and brainwashed into thinking their men. They just need to settle down and have children and then they will see the truth.

Does that sound like acceptance? Tolerance?

No. It is that same aspect of trying to control women and women's bodies because they views trans men as women despite trans men being men.

It is that idea of a woman's problem can be solved by marrying and having children because they do not view trans men as men, but again as confused girls.

So the transphobia of this type that attacks trans men is really insidious and scary because it is saying no you don't need to die (all though there are plenty who do say that because they think that being trans is socially contagious and that is why "girls become trans" i.e trans men exist) you just need to listen to us you silly child and use your womb like a good little girl.

It is a degradation, it is demeaning, it is stripping of one's dignity, and it is saying you do not know yourself nor do you know what is best for yourself.

They do not view trans men as men they view them as just another group of women failing doing womenhood right.

Of which the irony is of course trans men are going to fail at being the nebulous concept of womenhood they are not women.

But that is not how these folks see because again as keep having to say over and over they do not view trans men as men, but rather as women who not being the right kind of women and thus must be fixed.

Which should horrify you if you are not already horrified. I sincerely urge you if have not been listening to the concerns and worries of trans men and their community to please do so. To make sure that you are safe space for them and to find out ways that you can help.

We all need to help each other. We need to pull together and pull tight.

(Please forgive me if I was overstepping here since I'm not a trans man. Like I said I've unfortunately had to interact with some of these people and hear their rhetoric. So I felt it was imperative to make it as clear as possible what their views are because I'm so frustrated by how little people seem to be taking the very serious danger that trans men are in and how the concerns and worries of trans men are so often are brushed off. )

people genuinely behave like conservatives erupt into applause when a trans man comes out, as if they're cheering and going "YES! more men! FUCK women!"

they do not see us as men, y'all. WHAT reality is this attitude based in, because it's not this one.

conservatives do not see trans men as men. conservatives are not happy that there's one more man- they are pissed off because all they see is as "failed woman", "tainted woman", "woman in man's clothing" or "a woman pretending to be a man". they are mad because we aren't women anymore. they are actually pissed the fuck off that a 'woman' transitioned and is no longer a 'woman'. we're also viewed as "perverted queers trying to corrupt children," on the flip side of the coin but never men. stop acting like conservative men are frothing at the mouth excited to welcome trans men into the upper echelons of cisheteronormative patriarchy. they want us dead. snap out of it.

[adilqalbi]

What's True Love If Not Necromancy?

pairing: ramdevi

tagging: @rc-catalog

word count: 799

tw: light mentions of death

rating: g

summary: a different take on devi waking up for the first time in hertfordshire, finding ram and their conversation.

additional note: A SUPER LATE birthday present for the one and only JB/ @webanglikethat!! Jbaby you're one of the greatest people I have had the honour of knowing. i did my best here but forgive any mistakes. i hope you have an amazing year and whatever troubles you, i hope it goes away asap. i'll always love you (platonically)

Ram hadn't realised just how much he missed Devi until the night she showed up to his room, complaining of a headache. 

She had been unconscious for weeks, but the British physicians had seemingly done their best to help her recover from her injury. 

Now, here she was, sitting on Ram's bed, breathing deeply and massaging her temples. 

Ram sat on the floor at her feet, watching her, his palms resting on her knees, waiting patiently for her to break their silence. 

Finally: ‘’Where are we?’’ Her voice was a whisper, and Ram had to lean in to hear the question. 

He sighed. She didn’t know. Of course, she had been dead, roaming around in the afterlife probably, and now she was back but in a foreign place. 

‘’We are in Britain. Hertfordshire.’’

‘’Hertfordshire? How? This…doesn’t make sense.’’

‘’Shh, I know it doesn’t. I’ll explain everything, rakshasi.’’ Ram ran his hand through Devi’s messy hair, trying to calm her down. 

‘’Please, Ram. Just tell me. I was dead. Dead. What happened?’’

Ram bit his lip. There was no delaying this. She had to know. 

He sat down next to her on the bed, took her hand in his and began. 

‘’You did die. Dixit stabbed you. But, you killed him before your final breath. And, then you died.’’

Devi was silent. 

‘Ram continued: ‘’I figure you would be upset to know that the last time you breathed was in…Christian’s arms.’’ 

‘’By the gods. Dying in the arms of a foreigner.’’ 

‘’Yes, well, it’s okay though. We got you back very quickly.’’

Devi looked up at Ram. ‘’Yes, how did you manage that?’’

Ram rubbed his neck, nervous, ‘’There’s this ritual that can be done. It had never been successful before but it worked with you for some reason.’’

‘’A ritual?’’

‘’Yes.’’

‘’It had never worked before?’’

‘’No.’’

‘’But, here I am.’’

‘’Indeed.’’

Devi rolled her eyes. ‘’Of course, you would know a ritual. But wasn’t it too big a risk?’’

Ram looked at the bedroom floor, dark oak. He was silent for a few minutes, lost in thought. 

It was risky to have done the ritual. He could have made everything worse. But, he knew one thing was true, which would never change. 

‘’I wanted to do everything in my power to get you back. I don’t think I could live without you.’’

Ram looked directly into Devi’s eyes, ‘’Five years, Devi. Five years of stolen glances, and flirty jokes, and searching for each other in the crowd and yet not being able to talk openly. I’d already suffered for five years, without you by my side.’’ Ram stopped here, his voice failing him. 

Devi completed his thoughts: ‘’And after five years, once we just began taking steps towards…happiness…that’s when I was taken away from the world of the living. And you…’’

‘’Couldn’t bear it. Not for one minute.’’ 

Devi curled her lips inwards, not sure what to say to Ram’s sudden confession. 

‘’I’m sorry, maybe this was too much altogether.’’ Ram quieted down, mentally berating himself for not keeping his mouth shut. He was always so good at it, so what happened now?

The next thing he knew was that Devi was holding his hand tighter. ‘’No, Ram. It’s…I appreciate you so much. I love you dearly. It’s just that…I don’t know. I just wasn’t expecting it.’’

Ram raised his eyebrow, askance. 

‘’You were the one who said that what we have can’t be anything more than a secret.’’ Devi smirked, her old self coming back slowly as her mind got used to being alive again. ‘’What changed?’’

Ram looked at her again, her sparkling eyes, her smile. He thought back to how she laughed. 

‘’I want to make you laugh, I think. I want to do that for the rest of my life.’’ 

Devi blinked. She had expected a sarcastic joke, but this was serious. 

She smiled softly again, rubbing her thumb against Ram’s palm. 

‘’Ram…truly…I’d love to laugh with you forever. But-’’

‘’Oh god, there’s a but.’’ 

Devi, ironically laughed, ‘’Listen to me, you rakshasa. But now was not a good time to confess. I came back to life  half an hour ago. I’m pretty sure my body isn’t used to being alive currently. I think I need to sleep, actually. So, if you would please continue your tale of true love later on, I’d love to be able to sleep.’’

‘’True love? What do you mean true lov - wait!’’

It was no use. Devi was already under the covers with her eyes closed.

Under the covers. Sleeping. 

On Ram’s bed. 

In Hertfordshire. 

Where the maids liked to gossip. 

He looked at the empty side of the bed. He thought about it for perhaps one minute. Then he cuddled in right next to his true love.

[xspeter]

episode one: the vanishing of will byers

˚✧˚. summary: your brother goes missing, Tommy H gets what he deserves, and Mike Wheeler drags you into something downright strange

wc: 6.1k

m.list

notes: hi!!! this is the first chapter of my own rewrite :). i’ve always loved reading stories where you actually go on the adventures with the characters, so i figured why not do it myself? as i’m sure all of you know, im not the best at keeping up with my own stories… so please bare with me!

Your job at Karma Records isn’t very hard, especially since your job just consists of stacking and organizing records and that’s pretty much it. You glance at the clock on the wall, and you sighed as you realized it was already 10:30. The store closed thirty minutes ago, but you stopped getting any customers before the sun had even fully set.

You usually made it a rule not to work late, especially on nights where Will would be home alone. Tonight though was one of the rare nights where Jonathon would be home before you, so you figured there wasn’t any harm in picking up a few extra hours. Especially since you knew your mom could use the extra help. Even though she thought she was good at hiding your financial struggles, you and Jonathon had always known.

“Hey, you ready to lock up?” Your friend, Conner, asks you, his glasses nearly falling off of his nose as he leans against the front counter to look at you. You nod, stretching your arms over your head, your eyes squeeze shut and you let out a relieved moan when your arms slap back down to your thighs. Conner gives you a thumbs up, his blonde hair falling over his eyes a bit as he stands to his full height. Conner is tall, that much is obvious, he has been ever since you were kids and you’d met at the softball field.

“I’ve just gotta finish sweeping up the backroom, but you can go ahead and go.” He says, already beginning to walk away from you.

Your eyebrows furrow as you shrug your jacket on, “Are you sure? I really don’t mind helping you.”

Conner nods, “Yeah, I know, but Will and Jonathon are waiting for you, and you want to get home before your mom right?” He says the last part teasingly, knowing it was technically against your moms rules for you to work late.

You roll your eyes, “Whatever, it’s not like Will is home alone, Jon is there! And, I mean, seriously, I feel bad leaving you here alone, Conny.”

Conner just shakes his head, walking over to you and practically pushing you out the door. “Go home!” He insists. You can’t help but giggle at his antics, finally agreeing.

You sigh as you walk out of the store. You wrap your jacket tighter around yourself as you make the short trek to your car. November in Indiana wasn’t terrible, it wasn’t snowy like it usually was in January, it was more an uncomfortable dry cold. The kind of cold that almost hurt your lungs if you breathed in too hard.

As you walked to your car, you couldn't help but feel almost uncomfortable. You were on one of the main streets in Hawkins, surrounded by stores and streetlights, but you couldn’t help the feeling that you weren’t alone. You glanced behind you, thinking maybe Conner was watching you through the store's glass doors, but he’s not there. Still, the feeling persists.

You swallow, grateful as you finally reach your red ford. The car had been a hand-me down from your dad, the first and only nice thing he’d ever given you. You assumed it was to make up for all of the bullshit he put your family through, but it was going to take more than a car to make you forgive him.

The feeling still lingered even as you pulled out of the parking lot, and you couldn’t help but wonder if something very bad was going to happen.

-

Your twin brother had always been an expert on breakfast foods. You wondered if it was because he’d had to learn considering your lack in cooking skills, or if it was because your mom always burnt pancakes and her eggs were always a bit too watery. Either way, you can’t help the way you inhale the smell of the eggs he’s making, sipping on your coffee at the dining table.

You can hear your mom frantically getting ready, more than likely looking for her keys, which you could see on the table in front of you. “Jonathon, Y/N! Have you seen my keys?” She cries as she suddenly bursts into the kitchen, her eyebrows furrowed.

Jonathon sighs as he continues making breakfast, “Check the couch!” He says, but she just groans. “I already did!” She insists.

You grab the keys off the table, placing your mug down as you walk over to where she’s searching between the cushions. “They’re right here, Mom.”You say, holding them out to her like a prize.

“Oh,” She says relieved, “Thank you, Sweet girl.”

You just hum, going back to where you were sitting at the table. “Are you almost done, Jon?” You ask impatiently, barely able to ignore the grumbling in your stomach. Jonathon just rolls his eyes, “I would be if you’d quit nagging me.” He says, though you know he’s just teasing you.

“Okay, I’m leaving for work,” Your Mom says, leaving a kiss on your head and heading for Jonathon, but she stops in her tracks when she notices the empty chair at the dining table. “Where’s Will?”

You wince, realizing you’d been so focused on your hunger you’d completely forgotten to get him up. “I haven’t gotten him up yet.”

Her head falls back in a groan, “You have to make sure he’s up!” She says, beginning to practically speed walk towards your younger brother's room. You sigh, and you can’t help but feel a bit guilty at making her day harder. “I’ve told you this a thousand times.”

You share a look with Jonathon, when you were Will’s age you were both getting yourselves up, and sometimes you thought maybe it was time Will did the same. “Sorry, mom!” You call down into the hallway, though you doubt she even processes what you said in her hurry.

You grin as you hear the toaster pop, and Jonathon silently places your plate in front of you. You go to immediately dig in, a hum leaving your lips. Your family had always called you a human garbage disposal, because you loved to eat. It was pretty much your love language.

Your mom came back into the room anxiously, a strange look on her face. You’d seen her look worried before, but this felt different. “Will came home last night, right?”

You looked to Jonathon for confirmation, who looked to you. “I- I don’t know, Y/N was home before me last night.” He says. You immediately shook your head, eyes widening a bit. “What? No, I wasn’t. I worked late last night. I thought you got off at eight?”

Jonathon swallowed, “Eric asked me to cover for him last night, and I figured we could use the extra money.”

You can’t help the way your heart drops at the realization that neither you or Jonathon had been home last night. But, surely he had just stayed the night with Mike. This was Hawkins, nothing bad ever happens in Hawkins.

Your mom rubs the bridge of her nose exasperatedly, her eyes squeezing shut. “Guys, we’ve talked about this. You can’t- can’t take shifts when I’m working!”

You swallow, “I’m sorry Mom, I just- it was just a misunderstanding.” Jonathon nods in agreement, leaning against the chair next to you. “He was at the Wheelers all day. I'm sure he just stayed the night.” You feel a bit relieved that Jonathon points this out, because where else would he be?

“I can’t believe you guys,” She mutters, walking towards the phone. “Unbelievable.” You sigh, knowing it was better to let her be angry then try and argue with her, especially when she was right.

You pick at your fingernails anxiously as she calls The Wheelers, that awful feeling from last night creeping back into your stomach, creating an endless pit. It wasn’t uncommon for Will to stay the night at his friends' houses on school nights, but he always made sure it was okay at least a week in advance. He was cautious like that, it was something you loved about him. How careful he was.

That’s why your heart skips a beat when she hangs up the phone, and she doesn’t look any bit relieved.

You and Jonathon spend the entire morning in silence, the both of you entirely too anxious to attempt any kind of small talk. Your mom had called and informed you that Will was not at school or at the arcade or at any of his friends or even at that diner he strangely loves so much. She’d said she was going to file a missing persons report, which still felt entirely impossible.

There was no way Will was actually missing. He was at Mikes all day yesterday! It’s only a ten minute bike from The Wheelers to your house, and Will is cautious. He is careful and he is safe and he knows better than to stray off the route you’d shown him years ago. It seemed entirely impossible that anything could’ve happened in that ten minutes.

You glance to where Jonathon sits next to you on the couch, his expression blank. You swallow, blinking a few times. “He’s fine, right?” You murmur, the first words spoken between the two of you in over an hour. “He just got lost in the woods. We- We’ll find him by tonight, right?” Your eyes begin to fill with an onset of tears, the first of the day.

Jonathon doesn’t say anything, he barely even spares you a glance, and you can’t say you don’t expect it. This is what had happened when your dad had left, he’d gone entirely mute for hours. At the time you’d been annoyed by it, you couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that he wouldn’t say a word, not even when you begged him to talk to you. Will had been so young at the time, he didn’t even really understand what was going on. You’re partially grateful for that, you’d rather he grew up without ever remembering what it was like with your father than to have to experience living with him.

Before you can stop it, tears begin to roll down your cheeks, hot and heavy and all too familiar. You can feel your hands shaking from where they sit on your lap, your vision becoming blurred and lower lip wobbling uncontrollably.

This wasn’t real, there wasn’t any way. There has to be a rational explanation for this. This was Hawkins for crying out loud! What’re the chances that the one awful thing to happen in this town happens to your family? Your happy, loving family?

A warm embrace of your shaking hands pulls you from your thoughts, and that’s when you notice that Jonathon is crying too. He isn’t saying anything, and he still isn’t looking at you, but he’s holding your hand. You tighten your fingers around his, place your head on his shoulder, and weep.

For now, this was enough.

-

“Will!”

Your voice is most definitely hoarse by the third hour of you doing this, screaming for your baby brother to no avail. Will hasn’t responded once, and you’re no closer to finding him than you were three hours ago.

Your mom had returned home with… the report. You couldn’t bring yourself to say what it really was anymore, especially not after seeing it in person. It just made it feel too real, and some part of you still believed this was some awful nightmare.

Deep in the woods, you could hear your mom and brother screaming for him, their voices hoarse just like yours. This part of the woods wasn’t new or unfamiliar to you, in fact you knew it like the back of your hand. Castle Byers stood tall and proud in the tiniest clearing, made of wood and covered by a blue tarp. You remember helping Will and Jonathon build it, or, more like you and Jonathon built it and Will just watched in astonishment.

The castle had been almost like you and your twin's passion project after your Dad had left, like a saving grace amidst the chaos that your lives had become. You both acted like it was to help Will, to distract him, but really it was to distract you.

It had worked too, because by the time it was finished the dad-shaped hole in your chest had healed into a dad-shaped scar.

Now, as you flung the makeshift door open, the Castle felt cold and empty. A reminder of what was gone, and a lingering question of if and when it was coming back.

You sighed, some part of you’d been expecting Will to be in there, hiding from the rest of the world to finish some amazing drawing that he’d gotten the idea for.

“Not there, huh?”

Jonathon’s voice behind you nearly sends you flying out of your skin, and you have to place a hand over your chest to calm your rapidly beating heart. “Jesus, Jon!”

He gives what seems to be the making of a smile, though it doesn’t quite extend past his cheeks. “Sorry.”

You shake your head, “It’s fine. I’m just… a little on edge, I guess.”

He nods, shoving his hands into his pockets. The both of you stare at the structure, neither of you quite knowing what to say as memories flow through the both of you.

“Do you- do you remember the first day we worked on this? When Will insisted on helping me cut the wood?” Jonathon asks you, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

A small grimace forms on your face as you wrap your arms around yourself, “How could I forget?”

Six years ago, when you’d built this, Will had insisted on helping Jonathon cut the wood. He was only five years old at the time, but Jonathon had thought as long as he was there to help him it’d be okay. Which, by the way, you would’ve told him was a horrible idea if you’d known he was doing it. You’d been helping your mom make sandwiches for the four of you, when an awful, blood-curdling scream punctured through the four walls of your house.

You and your mom had gone running to find Jonathon bent over and Will sobbing over him, axe in hand. “I’m sorry, Jonny! I’m sorry!”

Will had accidently sent the axe right onto Jonathon’s leg, leaving a massive cut right below his knee. It was gaping and oozing blood so red it was nearly black. The whole ordeal had been terrifying at the time, and ten-year-old you had thought for sure Jonathon would die.

He didn’t obviously, he just needed tons of stitches and ended up with a badass scar. Will never did forgive himself for it though. To this day, he still apologizes to Jonathan for it, though he can barely even remember it happening. You think that’s what makes Will so different from all of you, he is so… so compassionate. So empathetic and more in-tune to his emotions then any other eleven year old on the planet. Jonathon had always told him to stop apologizing, that it was more his fault than anything, but Will never stopped.

Jonathon sniffles from beside you, though you can’t tell if it’s because of the cold wind or the tears in his eyes. “God, I’d kill to hear him apologize one more time.”

You sigh shakily, “I would too.” You insist, eyes filling with tears for the upteenth time today. You wonder to yourself if there would be a point where the tears just stop coming, if Will is going to be gone long enough for that to happen.

You silently pray to God that that doesn’t happen.

By the time 3 o’clock rolls around there’s only one person that you desperately need to talk to, that you know can make you feel better, and that’s Conner.

You’d returned home from your search half an hour ago, the whole thing leading you nowhere closer to finding your brother. You knew it wasn’t… pointless. That it would help you find him, but still, you couldn’t help but worry that you were searching for nothing. That he would never show up.

You needed to talk to Conner.

You dialed his number easily, the digits practically muscle memory at this point. Really, he was the only person outside of your family that you called. You weren’t particularly popular at school, and it’s not like you wanted to be! You were happy with it just being you and Conner. You swallowed as the phone rang, letting yourself lean against the wall as you twisted the phone cord around your free hand.

You frowned when you got his answering machine, though you assumed he must’ve gone straight to work from school. You’d already called off for the day, just like Jonathon and your Mom had. Though, your Mom had called off for the next two weeks.

When Conner doesn’t answer, you sigh, placing the phone back on the wall. Jonathon had shut himself in his room as soon as you got home, and your Mom had driven herself straight back to the police station to hound Hopper again. Leaving you, alone.

You never quite took loneliness well. Jonathon thrived when he was by himself, he found comfort in the silence, whereas you did not. You supposed that was the main difference between the two of you. Yes, you were twins, but really you didn’t think you and Jonathon had many traits in common. Or maybe you did, and you just couldn’t see it.

Either way, you needed to get out. You couldn’t sit here by yourself or you were positive you’d go crazy. Without really thinking, you threw on your shoes and your jacket, letting yourself out through the front door. You practically beelined for your car, the rusty red ford already bringing the slightest bit of comforting warmth to your chest.

You’d always been a bit attached to your car. Driving was comforting for you, and helped you clear your head. You’d always preferred road trips to traveling by plane, though your family could hardly ever afford a plane ticket. You’d always been secretly grateful for that fact.

The car shudders a bit as you force it on, the start of “Gypsy” by Fleetwood Mac blasting into the air. You quickly shut it off, the cassette popping out of the dash. You don’t even bother putting it back in its rightful case, instead choosing to throw it onto the passenger seat as you search through your cassettes for the song.

You had a routine when you were upset. Get in your car, play the song, and just drive. You never had a destination, just an agenda.

You let out a relieved sigh when you find it, quickly pushing it into the car and listening as the beginning notes of David Bowie's “Heroes” blast through your speakers. The speakers crackle and pop as you force it louder, but you don’t care. You just put the car in drive and go.

-

An hour later, you’re parked at a gas station, filling up your car before you head back home. You’d driven around the entire city of Hawkins twice, which wasn’t very hard to do considering its size, and you listened to the song the entire time.

Your eyes are puffy from crying all day, and a cigarette that you’d stolen from your mom months ago hangs lit between your lips. When you’d taken it, you figured you’d save it for the right time. No better time than the present, right?

It burns your throat and chest as you suck in its toxic chemicals, your free arm is wrapped around your middle while the other takes the cigarette out of your mouth and holds it between your pointer and middle finger.

You were sure there was some kind of danger in filling up your car while you smoke, but you’d seen countless people do it before and nothing happened to them. You tap your foot impatiently against the pavement, watching as the fuel gauge fills ever so slowly.

After what feels like forever, you hear the gas finally pop, signaling to you that it’s done its job and you can finally leave. As you stick it back into the gas pump, the sound of awfully loud music and screeching tires distracts you.

You look up to see Steve Harrington’s fancy BMW zoom into the parking lot, driving into the parking spot behind you and blowing so much wind past you that your hair practically flies all over the place. Your eyes instantly narrow as you turn around to glare at him. To no one’s surprise, he’s not by himself. His idiotic, minion friends Tommy H and Carol are in the car, the both of them laughing their asses off at whatever it is Steve has said.

Steve Harrington was… a prick, to put it lightly. You weren’t the guy's biggest fan, and you never had been. Now that he was dating Nancy Wheeler though? You most definitely can’t stand him.

You and Nancy had never really been friends, but there’d been a time where you were acquaintances, back when you both dressed up for your brother's DnD games and played along. Though now she’d grown out of it and you still played a long if they asked you nice enough.

You understood it, obviously. You were getting older, and she’d crossed the threshold from playing with her brother to being a normal teenage girl. You, it would seem, still had not, and Steve Harrington’s friends went out of their way to make sure you knew it.

Carol is the first to spot you glaring at them, and the sickening smirk that grows on her face is enough to make your movements quicken. You really weren’t in the mood to deal with them today.

You drop your cigarette, squashing it with your foot. The damn thing hadn’t done anything for you anyway, if anything you were just more stressed.

You quickly hop back into your car, turning the key and sighing as it revs back on. You reach for the door handle to slam it shut, but you’re stopped as a hand grabs the door, preventing you from leaving.

You swallow uncomfortably, sighing as you force yourself to look up. You're met with Tommy H’s smiling face, and you can’t help but feel sick at the smell of alcohol already in his breath. Schools been out for.. what? An hour and a half? How was the bastard already drunk?

“We missed you at school today.” He drawls. You can see Carol smiling through the rear view mirror, a freshly lit cigarette between her fingers. Steve is nowhere to be found, and you assume he’s gonna inside to buy whatever it is they came here for,

“Get off of my car, Tommy.” You say neutrally. If there was one thing you’d learned from being relentlessly bullied by these two, it was to not show any sort of distress.

Tommy leans closer to you, though his hand never leaves your car, instead trailing from the door to the hood, his fingers hanging carelessly over the opening from where your door closes. “Why would I do that when I’m just trying to have a decent conversation with you?”

You can’t help the way your face contorts in disgust. “Look, I’ve had a shit day, Tommy-”

“I know, I heard about your brother.”

Your breath hitches in your throat at that. It would seem there really were no secrets in a small town. Though, you’re shocked he found out about it so quickly. You don’t say anything. What can you say anyway? Oh, yeah, that really sucks! See you at school tomorrow? No.

“Yeah, me and Carol or real sorry about that, by the way.” Naively, you wonder if he’s being legit. Tommy H and Carol were awful, obviously, but sometimes you wondered if he wasn’t really that awful. You peek up at him at your own volition, a curious glint in your eye. “Really?”

Tommy snickers, “Of course! I mean, I'd be real depressed if my twin killed my younger brother too!”

You can hear Carol laughing, that awful, snotty laugh that she does when she wants Tommy to feel validated in whatever crap he’s pulling. “Hey, isn’t that called having an evil twin?” Tommy continues his attempts at getting under your skin, but you’re not focused on him anymore. You see Steve walk out of the gas station with a six pack, a confused look in his eye. You think that’s what pisses you off the most. It’s not Tommy’s comment or Carol's laugh, it’s Steve. It’s the fact that he knows what kind of awful people they are, and yet still chooses to be their friend. It makes you see red.

Before you even realize what you're doing, you quickly snatch the car door handle, and slam it shut on Tommy’s fingers. He howls in pain, his eyes going wide as his other hand reaches for the outside handle. You let him open the door, though he doesn’t even care for anything other than his bright red fingers anymore.

You smirk as he cradles them with his other hand, pained grunts still falling from his mouth. You can hear Carol calling for him, and Steve just stands in the middle of the parking lot stupidly, staring back at you through the rearview mirror. You can tell that he has no clue of what just happened, but he’s curious.

You don’t say anything as you slam the door back shut, not even bothering to put on your seatbelt as you speed out of the parking lot.

-

“Where the hell were you?”

It’s not the greeting you’re expecting when you finally get home, though you guess you should’ve considering you just left without even leaving a note.

You swallow, shutting the door behind you slowly. “I just needed to clear my head.” You defend softly.

Your mom scoffs, shaking her head wildly. The bags under her eyes are already much more prominent, and her hair is fraying in places it usually doesn’t. “So- So you just left? With everything going on, you just left without even telling anyone you were leaving?”

You played with your fingers uncomfortably, you knew she was right, but you hadn’t really been thinking properly at the time. It’s the whole reason you left in the first place! “I’m sorry, Mom.”

She just sighs, falling into the couch next to Jonathon. “You- You can’t do that, okay? Especially not right now. I- I can’t. Will’s already gone, if I lost one of you…” She trails off, eyes welling up with tears. It breaks your heart to see your Mother so vulnerable and open. When your dad left, she put on a strong face for the three of you. Never let you see her cry, never let you see her break, so that she could take care of you. Now, it was your turn to take care of her.

You sit into the couch next to her, so that now you and Jonathon are practically sandwiching her between the cushions. “You’re not going to lose us, Mom.” Jonathon murmurs. You agree with him, wrapping your arms around the brown haired woman. Jonathon does the same, and the three of you sit there for who knows how long, just embracing.

That is until Jonathon interrupts it. “Cops.”

You follow the both of them outside, where Chief Jim Hopper and two of his officer buddies are waiting with Will’s bike.

You’d gotten him that Bike for Christmas, it’d taken you months to save up for it. When you gave it to Will, he was so ecstatic he said he’d protect it with his life, and now a voice in the back of your head told you that he had.

“We found it lying over by Shirley.” He says as places the bike onto the porch and allows himself and the other officers inside your home. “It was just lying there?” You mom says in disbelief, sharing a glance with you.

“Yeah. Cal?” Hopper says, signaling to the other officer to do something that you’re not too sure of.

“Will wouldn’t do that.” You defend, “He- He loved that bike.”

Hopper glances at you, continuing his march through the halls “I’m sure he did, Kid.”

“Did it have any blood on it, or-”

“No, no, no, no…Phil?” Hopper murmurs. You can’t stand the way he’s looking through your house like it’s some sort of crime scene, even though you know deep down that it is.

Your childhood home was a crime scene now.

You can tell that Jonathon is growing restless at the amount of one word answers Hopper is giving, because you are too. “If you found the bike out there, then what are you doing here?” He asks, only slightly impatient.

“Well, he had a key to the house, right?” Hopper asks, not even sparing any of you a glance. To be honest, it was pissing you off.

“Yeah.” Jonathon answers.

“So…” He mutters, looking through your kitchen like a fruit fly looking for a rotten apple, “Maybe he came home.”

Your mom immediately scoffs, the idea impossible to her. “What- You think I didn’t check my own house?”

Hopper shakes his head, walking over to the wall next to the door. “I’m not saying that. This always been there?” His fingers glaze over a hole in the wall, right where the door handle would smash into it if opened hard enough.

Your mom sighs, rubbing the bridge of her nose impatiently. “I don’t know! I’ve got three kids, two of which are boys. Look at this place.”

Hopper doesn’t say anything, instead swinging the door back and forth as if testing his theory. “You’re not sure?”

The attention is dragged away when Chester starts barking outside, and Hopper goes out there without a word. Your mom follows, though you and Jonathon choose to stay inside.

“I hate that they’re treating this place like a crime scene.” You say softly.

Jonathon swallows, “Well, it is now, isn’t it?”

You're silent for a moment, picking at the skin around your finger nails uncomfortably. “Yeah.” You murmur, “I guess it is.”

-

By the time the sun sets you’ve tried to call Conner a million different times to no avail. His parents aren’t answering either, which worries you even more. With everything that’s going on with Will, you could really use your best friend.

There was going to be a search party for Will tonight, the first of what you desperately hoped wasn’t many. Your family wasn’t going, mostly because Hopper told you not to. He’d said it was best for you to stay home the first few nights, they had enough volunteers and they’d call you as soon as they found anything.

You were practically itching to go though. You wanted to be out there looking for him. What if Hopper scared him and he got even more lost? He wasn’t ever any good around new people.

Your thoughts are interrupted by your mom knocking on your bedroom door, and you let her know it’s okay to come in with a hum. She creaks the door open just wide enough for her to fit through it. “Hey.” She says softly.

You give her a small smile, “Hi.”

She sniffles, leaning against the doorframe. “Me and Jonathon are getting some pictures for the-” She sucks in a breath, the words getting stuck in her throat. “The poster?” You finish for her.

She nods, “The poster.”

Wordlessly, you follow her into the living room where a shoebox full of pictures sits opened on the coffee table, some photos already splayed around the wood. You sit down next to Jonathon on the couch, your eyes scanning over each and every family photo. Lots of them are taken by Jonathon, his love for photography never changing throughout the years.

You snort when you spot a picture of you and Jonathon from before Will was even born. You’re both barely over the age of three, the only thing either of you were wearing being a pampers diaper. You were still practically bald, your hair so thin it looked more like wires than anything else. Jonathon on the other hand, had the thickest head of hair you’d ever seen on a baby!

“You look like the girl in this photo!” You point out with a small laugh, and Jonathon just lets out a puff of air, the closest thing you think you’ll get to a laugh from him.

Your mom sniffles from where she sits beside Jonathon, silently looking through the photos, her eyes subconsciously lingering on the ones of Will.

“I- I know I haven’t been there for the two of you lately.” She says suddenly. Your breath catches in your throat and you shake your head. “No, Mom, c’mon..” You insist.

“I’ve just been working so hard and…” A soft sob escapes her throat, “I just feel bad I don’t even know what’s going on with you guys.” She does her best attempt at a laugh after, though it comes out weak and uncomfortable.

Jonathon seems to be going mute again, and you can’t help the way your eyes build up with tears. She rubs Jonathon’s thigh comfortingly, “What is it, Honey?” She says softly, doing her best to coax a few words out of him.

“Nothing.” He manages, though it comes out coarse, as if he’s holding back tears.

“Come on, tell me.” She insists. Finally, Jonathon breaks. “It’s just… I should’ve been there for him.” He admits, and you feel your heart break in two.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t been having thoughts like that. Thoughts of what if. What if you hadn’t taken that later shift? What if you had double checked with Jonathon? Would Will be home safe, like he was supposed to?

“Jonathon, don’t do that to yourself.” You say softly, tears falling from your own eyes.

“This was not your fault,” Your mom reassures, her other hand coming to rest on your cheek. “Either of you, okay? It wasn't your faults.”

She sucks in a shaky breath, “Will is… is close, I can feel it, in my heart.” She says, her voice wavering slightly though you know she means what she says. It comforts you slightly, knowing that your mom believed so wholly.

She smiles, picking one of the pictures of Will scattered on the coffee place. It’s his sixth grade school photo. He’s smiling, and he’s wearing the outfit you and Jonathon helped him pick out because he insisted on looking just perfect.

“This is the one, right?” She says, and you and Jonathon both nod. “Yeah, it’s his favorite picture.” You say, your voice cracking slightly,

Your mom laughs, staring fondly at the photo, until the phone rings. She drops it back in the coffee table and runs over to it. Your heart practically stops beating, hoping, but also slightly dreading, to hear some news about Will.

“H-Hello?” She says into the phone, her eyebrows creasing in confusion. “Hello? L-Lonnie?” You and Jonathan both share a glance, “Dad?”

You get up from your spot on the couch, walking over to your mom in the hopes if being able to hear whoever’s on the phone. “Hopper? Who is this?”

Suddenly, her breath catches in her throat as she looks at you. “Will?”

Jonathon practically shoots up from the couch, standing next to you. “It’s- It’s will?” You said, a weight coming off of your shoulders. He was alive.

Suddenly, her eyes go wide, no longer with relief, but instead fear. “Who- Who is this? What have you done to my boy?”

“Mom, what’s going on? Who’s on the phone?” You question, the weight suddenly crashing back down, making it nearly impossible for you to breathe. “Give me back my son- oh!” The phone drops from her hand, it clearly having gotten overheated or- or something.

Jonathon dives for it, “Hello? Who is this?”

You immediately go for your Mom, “What did he say?” You insist, but she’s already begun to sob. “He just breathed. He just breathed!” Your breath catches in your throat. So, he hadn’t said anything? Not a clue about where he was? Nothing?

You didn’t have time to dwell on it now as you pulled your mom into an embrace, the both of you crying together.

By the time everyone calms down and your mom finally gets herself to bed it’s pouring and you’re exhausted. You flop onto your bed, though it feels wrong to try and sleep knowing Will isn't right across the hall like he usually is.

You toss and turn for at least half an hour, so you’re beyond grateful at the sound of the landline in your room ringing. You assume it’s Conner finally replying to the hundreds of messages you left him, but you’re shocked when you hear the other voice on the line.

“Y/N? Are you there?”

“Mike?”

You assume he’s calling because he’s scared, just like all of you are. “Mike, is everything all right?”

The phone is silent, though you think you can hear Dustin and Lucas arguing in the background. You can hear Mike take a shaky breath, before he simply says, “We need your help.”

[ihaznoclue]

Could I request Von Lycaon, Grace and Anton with a s/o who's multilingual?

Ooh~ This request is interesting but please forgive me if I mess anything because I don't speak any other language rather than English

Pairings -> Von Lycaon, Grace Howard, Anton Ivanov x Reader

Warnings -> None

Note -> Reader is Multilingual (Let's say French?)

Genre -> Fluff

Von Lycaon

Would be very interested to learn more about French

But he never seems to understand what you say sometimes

But int he end you always tell him what you said

"Je t'aime Lycaon" "Excuse me?"

You love the reaction that you get out of him once you speak French for the first time

"Tu es si adorable"

His ear would just flick at that as he didn't know to take it as a compliment or to simply thank you

"Tu es si moelleux Lycaon" "Uhh.."

You just love it

Je t'aime Lycaon = I love you Lycaon

Tu es si adorable = You're so adorable

Tu es si moelleux Lycaon = You're so fluff Lycaon

Grace Howard

Grace would be surprised at first then would really like to know more

You said that you were french which she couldn't really understand much of it

She wonders why your accent sounds attractive to her

"Grace, tu es si maladroite, laisse-moi t'aider avec ça"

She would just stare at you which causes you to chuckle a little at her reactions

"I said I am going to help you dummy"

"Oh thanks sweet pea!"

"Pas de soucis"

"Huh?"

"I said no worries chérie"

"OH!"

At least she knows that word

Grace, tu es si maladorite, laisse-moi t'aider avec ca = Grace, you're so clumsy, here let me hellp you with that

Pas de soucis = No worries

Cherie = Darling

Anton Ivanov

Speechless

I would also feel like he would start begging on what you just said to him because if he doesn't know

Then he would be thinking about it for the rest of hislife

"Bonjour mon beau"

"W-What?"

But don't worry you tell him later on

"Bon travail Anton"

You would say then smack his behind as he jump in surprise

"What I don't understand?!"

You just like the reaction you get out of him

Bonjour Mon beau = Good morning Handsome

Bon travail Anton = Good work out there Anton

Sorry If I may not be accurate with the translation

-A<3

[islandofthedollz]

PLEASEEE do more priest jimmy 🙏 i will give my life and soul for this

❤︎ Forgive me father for I have sinned ❤︎

⁠❥TW: power imbalance, corporal discipline and the corruption of religous traditions in a historical context

⁠❥Ask and you shall receive!!!

“Father?' You clear your throat. Father... May I speak with you?” The quiet, slightly muffled voice behind the heavy oak door followed a timid knock, almost as though you did not want to be heard. As though this would give you absolution to walk away.

Unseen, Jimmy smiled, delighted, before raising his voice. “Enter, my child.”

The door slowly opened, just enough to admit you. When you entered you were so nervous, you felt you were visibly shrinking making you seem even more vulnerable. However, while innocent, at [AGE] years old, you were no child.

“Well, come in, my dear, and tell me what is on your mind.”

Slowly and reluctantly you fully entered the room and came to sit where Father Jimmy directed, on one of the two large, leather wingback chairs facing the fire. The ghost of a smile graced his lips. Perched you on the very edge of the seat, you were in real danger of sliding to the floor. You clasp your hands tightly in your lap it would have been better holding the polished armrests, Jimmy thought wryly.

Taking the other seat, he leaned back, spreading his thighs. You try to avoid eye contact trying to look everywhere but at him, you appeared to be gathering your thoughts. Jimmy was in no hurry. There was nothing like anticipation to make the treat that much sweeter.

After a few minutes of silence, marked only by the crackling and occasional pops from the fire, a falling log broke the spell, and you finally made eye contact. Jimmy raised one intimidating brow.

You began. “Forgive me, Father,” an intriguing start, he thought, “for disturbing you so late, but I could not sleep, and I...” you hesitated again, looking down at your lap as your hands were wrung the blood from your knuckles.

“Continue,” Father Jimmy instructed.

“I..” you took another deep breath, your voice came out in a rush, “have been having impure thoughts.” You look at with wide eyes, “Please, Father, help me.”

And there it was. While he couldn't say he was surprised his sermons were almost wholly focussed on the sins of the flesh and the need to stay pure inorder to avoid the licking flames of Hellfire he had wondered how long it would take before the graphic images of devils tempting the flesh of innocent maids would take root in the mind of his young ward.

Jimmy’s looks at you sternly, he asked, “And what form do these impure thoughts take, child? Perhaps you wish to laze in bed instead of doing your chores or have had unkind thoughts towards the other girls in the parish? Perchance, you are coveting their pretty dresses and ribbons?”

You shake your head vigorously, you seemed relieved to be able to disabuse him of these thoughts. “Oh, no, Father, nothing like that.”

“Not Sloth, Wrath or Envy, you say? I know you are generally a good, obedient girl. What could possibly be keeping you from your rest?” Jimmy suppressed a smirk as she looked even more uncomfortable, and a flush worked its way from her cheeks down her long, neck to disappear beneath her dress. “What sin do you have to confess to me at this late hour?”

Another rustle as your hands fidgeted with your skirt. You took another deep breath, held, then said slowly. “Lust, Father.”

Almost too low to hear, the confession came out on a strangled half sob that made him swell in anticipation. He was tempted to make you repeat yourself, insist you proclaim your shame in a loud, clear voice, butJimmy wanted to reward you bravery with a modicum of kindness.

“So, you have been entertaining lustful thoughts, my child, and your first impulse was to come to me for help? Such a good girl to understand that this is a serious matter that needs to be nipped in the bud before it is allowed to grow wild and untamed. You have done the right thing, and I am proud of you.” He gave you a small smile, which saw some of the colour returning to your cheeks and you smiled at him back.

“However,” she flinch at the harsh change in his tone, his smile disappearing as quickly as it had arrived, “as you are aware, a sin of this magnitude cannot go unpunished.”

You really were just perfect. Acquiring you from your impoverish father, who was often in his cups and all too ready to hand you off to someone of his standing in the community, was the best decision he'd ever made. You’d been with him less than a year, but you had been so grateful for his charity and attention after a lifetime of neglect that he truly felt you’d come to love him.

You’d quickly accepted Jimmy’s strict rules, seeming to thrive on the structure he was only too happy to offer you, and you had even willingly submitted to his occasional physical punishments weathers it’s a spanking with his hand or her hairbrush when you made a small mistake. Jimmy had impressed upon you that these stinging chastisements were for your own good, to ensure you grew up pure of mind and spirit, to become the best young woman you could be. He believed that you welcomed them as a sign of his love because he took the time to discipline you in such a way when your own father had not.

After each punishment, he gave you a long, warm hug, stroking your back and hot, red bottom until your tears subsided before drying your eyes and giving you a sweet kiss on your flushed cheeks and forehead.

On this occasion, after waiting so long for you to begin your sexual awakening, the punishment and comfort would be so much more profound.

“Look at me, child.”He waited until your eyes met his and held your gaze with his unforgiving stare. “ Now tell me exactly what manner these impure thoughts have taken. Have you entertained wicked scenarios in your mind, or have you gone further and let your wicked fingers wander where they shouldn't?”

With your fingers writhing in your lap your thighs squeezed together, you were almost enacting your sins of the flesh as you haltingly confessed her guilt.

You took a deep breath “I touched... my... under the covers. I'm so sorry, Father. I tried to stop, but... I kept being drawn back.”

There followed a long silence that Jimmy chose not to break until you finally looked at him from beneath damp lashes, white teeth sunk deeply into her plush lower lip. You already looked so penitent that it seemed almost cruel to punish you further, but he truly felt that this was for the best. For both of them.

“I cannot say that I am not disappointed in your shameful behaviour, but before punishment is meted out, I believe I shall have to establish the extent of your sin.” Wide-eyed, you sucked in a breath. “Did you violate your purity entirely, or did you leave your final innocence untouched?”

You seemed confused with the question did not rule in favour or against the breaking of your maidenhead. Your mother had died young, and your father had never taken another wife who could talk to you of such things. As a man of God, he had purposefully kept you sheltered from what most young women of your age knew, treasuring the fact that he would, one day, be the man to relieve you of your innocence. Today, it would seem, was the day.

“Well, hurry now, girl, and disrobe. It is time to shed light on what has been done in the dark.”

With a stricken look and quiet whimper, you reluctantly unbuttoned your dress, carefully folded it and laid it on the chair you had recently vacated. Standing in only your undergarments, the thin cotton shift was translucent in the glow of the fire, revealing your silhouette to Jimmy’s hungry eyes. You looked at him imploringly. At an almost imperceptible shake of his head,your hands moved to divest yourself of even this thin layer of protection until you were standing, shivering before him, your arms wrapped tightly around your breasts whether for modesty, warmth, or protection was unclear. The fact that the region which had caused this trouble was completely exposed did not go unnoticed.

Walking towards you, his hands moved to yours and gently but firmly, he unclasped your cold fingers from your upper arms.Jimmy moved them to the small of your back, urging you to grip your forearms neatly behind you, so that they rested just above the swell of your ass. Not only did that remove the temptation for you to cover his view, but it also had the added benefit of pushing your breasts forward as if begging for attention. Indeed, you surprisingly prominent nipples had pebbled pleasingly at his proximity. Despite being of a mind to give them the attention they so clearly desired, he steeled himself to take the time to punish you properly before moving on to their reward.

“Girl, I can see the signs of lust upon your body as clear as if the word was painted on your skin.”

Stepping even closer to a naked you, Jimmy towered over you and reached out with one large rough hand to cradle your soft cheek, angling your head back to look deeply into your blown pupils. “The black pits of your soul have opened wide to let in the devil, eating up the wholesome blue of your purity.”

You tried to bow your head, your eyes filling with tears of fear and shame, but his firm hand did not allow you to break eye contact. “Fear not, girl. You have confessed, which is the first step towards redemption and purity. Once you have been thoroughly punished, you will be forgiven and absolved of your sins. Now, let us catalogue the extent of your wickedness.”

Retreating slightly, he allowed his thumb to brush your swollen bottom lip, pressing down slightly, which made you involuntarily gasp and lick the dry digit with your tongue.

Moving away from such a warm, wet temptation, Jimmy’s fingers traced a path along your jaw and down your throat, leaving a trail of gooseflesh in their wake. Your nostrils flared, and your thighs shifted restlessly together, craving the friction you now knew would soothe the ache.

Circling the swell of her of your breast,Jimmy allowed his rough fingertips to wander up and over the peak, triggering a trembling gasp as they brushed the nub, causing it to stiffen impossibly harder. As you unconsciously pushed yourself further into his hand, he rewarded you with a sharp pinch that made you cry out in pained pleasure.

“This is an area not unused to stolen pleasure, I see.” Jimmy gazed down at your reddened face sternly as his other hand took care of your neglected right breast. “Have your greedy fingers been toying with these ripe little fruits, girl? The truth now!”

You were red from your cheeks to the very breasts he was now toying with, “yes father” you mumbled

“Show me,” Jimmy demanded.

Again, you looked askance at him, however the excitement in your gaze belied your reluctance. You were no doubt shamed at having to touch yourself in front of him, but the very embarrassment you were experiencing seemed only to increase your arousal.

Slowly, sensuously, your hand snaked in front of your body and traced a featherlight path over the curve of your hip, past your belly button, and up to the valley between your breasts, taking time to circle one teasingly before heading to its twin. Provocatively maintaining eye contact the entire time, you began stroking the aching tip, gently at first, your fingers barely skimming the pebbled flesh. Gaining momentum, you firmed your grip, rolling the delicate flesh more enthusiastically, tweaking and pinching it between your fingertips. Your breath caught as you shuddered in pleasure, and her eyes closed as you slowly began to lose herself in the sensation.

“Eyes on me, girl!” Jimmy yelled. He would not be shut out or denied. He wanted to see everything. Every filthy little thought as it crossed your mind. How else could he be sure to punish you effectively and cleanse her of every sin if you were able to hide from him?

Your eyes sprang open and locked on his gaze, then quickly, your lids became heavy as your pleasure increased. You were enjoying yourself far too much, losing yourself in the very sin you were to here to repent.

“Enough!”Jimmy commanded. You were startled, your hands flying guiltily from your flushed breasts to clasp once again behind your back.

“Is this the only forbidden flesh your fingers have strayed to, or have they wandered further into sin?”Jimmy’s chocolate eyes pointedly dipped down her belly to the tuft of hair thatch that covered her mound.

You shifted uneasily, your thighs rubbing together, drawing attention to the light sheen of moisture that coated your skin.

“Father?” it came out as a desperate plea. To leave the question unanswered, he mused, or to show him just how far you had fallen into lust?

“Show me, girl.”Jimmy’s voice held no argument, and it was with something like relief that you unclasped your hands and brought both down to stroke along your thighs. Shuffling your feet apart, your fingers swept around the plump inner curves, now slippery with your arousal. With the familiarity of diligent practice, you used the first two fingers on your left hand to part the outer petals of your womanhood, revealing its hot depths to the mercy of your other hand. Enraptured,Jimmy could not tear his eyes from where the slender digits, first one, quickly followed by a second, plunged into the moist font of your honey. Once dripping with the slippery fluid, you anointed the engorged pearl at the apex of your pussy and proceeded to agitate it most wantonly, moaning like a Pagan whore.

When Jimmy finally wrenched his gaze from your dripping slit, he found you watching him, your face flushed and eyes hooded. With Jimmy’s attention now firmly on you, you licked your full lips, tempting him to join you in this display of debauchment. And Jimmy was tempted. Lord, how he was tempted.

“Remove your fingers this instant!”Jimmy’s voice came out strained, husky. Beneath his robes, he was hard, and he knew that should you be allowed to continue in such a wanton way he was liable to unman himself. As a man of God, he knew that Onan's sin of spilling his seed upon the ground was displeasing in the sight of the Lord. Fortunately, he had an altogether more pleasing receptacle for his offering.

It was past time to put a stop to this disgraceful display. “I have seen enough, child. You have clearly been possessed of the devil and need an experienced man of God to set you back on the path of righteousness.”

Your hands again safely behind your back,you were the very picture of contrition. You had come to him for help, and now you would be purged of you shame. You truly were fortunate that he took you in. Who else would take the time to save your mortal soul?

Firmly taking your upper arm, he led you across the room to his prie dieu the ornately-carved prayer desk and kneeler he used for his private devotion. He stopped her as you went to kneel on the padded stool.

“No, child, there will be time enough for kneeling later. First, you are to be scourged to release the devil from his hold on your impressionable young flesh.”

Your eyes flew to his, showing your fear of what was to come. But what was this? Could he detect a curious excitement for the strict punishment he would be meting out? Did the thought of placing you innocent young body in his hands enflame her as it did him? Interesting. He was clearly going to have to be especially thorough with your chastisement if it was to be effective. There was no room for mercy where wickedness was so firmly rooted.

Leading you to the back of the structure, he had you bend deeply, leaning with your forearms resting on the sloped desk, your fingers clasped in prayer.

“Arch your back, child, and offer yourself up to your punishment. Show me that you willingly accept the kiss of the lash that will free you from the burden of guilt and shame that currently weighs upon your soul.”

Sinking further down, your breasts hanging freely Jimmy had alluded to earlier, you widened your stance and raised your hips, going so far as to rise onto your tiptoes to enticingly offer up your plush globes. It was all Jimmy could do not to seize your fleshy cheeks and thrust his throbbing member into your unclaimed hole that brazenly winked at him.

Was this an invitation to defile you like a heathen? The devil indeed had taken hold of your innocent mind. There was no time to delay. Taking up his scourge, which hung on the wall above his bed and had seen service when he felt self-flagellation was required to keep himself pure, he returned to stand at your side.

Seizing the worn whip of knotted leather by its sturdy plaited handle, he offered it to her lips for a kiss before tipping your chin up and warning you, “ I will now flog you until I believe the devil has fled your body. This will be a very severe punishment, and you will need to be brave and endure, for in the end you will be forgiven.” You whimpered in fear whilst raising your hips further in eager acceptance.

“So be it.” And with those ominous words, he began.

Much later, Jimmy breathing heavily, his face sheened in sweat and his vestments sticking to his back. However, the signs of his exertion were nothing compared to her condition. Your buttocks and the backs of your thighs were crosshatched with red welts and a myriad of tiny purpling bruises. You were shaking as silent tears puddled on the shelf below you, but you remained obediently locked in place, your hands still clasped in prayer.

He stroked the sweaty strands of your hair where they clung to your flushed cheeks and raised your head. “You have done well, child, and can rejoice as the devil has been driven from your body. You are forgiven your sins and are once more beloved of God.”

As he helped you to stand, you gave him a small smile. “Am I... pure once more, Father?”

Jimmy smiled benevolently and guided you round to kneel on the cushioned platform.

“Almost, my child. All that remains is for you to be filled with the holy sacrament. Now close your eyes, raise your head, and stick out your tongue...”

[fandom-susceptible]

So I've been thinking about where The Dragon Prince left things after Season 7, especially since they had to wrap it up so quickly and it doesn't look like they're likely to get full ten seasons.

I'm still very unsettled by Terry. I know he had his whole "Zuko here" moment and "redemption arc", but it rings hollow for me for a guy who spent the previous several seasons totally cool with a genocide against his own people as long as it was Claudia doing it. I super don't buy his shock and dismay at Claudia trying to kill the illusion of her mother after what he himself did to Ibis. I want to know where he came from and why he's okay with Dark Magic, just so long as it's not Aaravos.

Which is only loosely tied into a thought I wanna dwell on more, but is somewhat important background information for my thought process.

So at the end of Season 7, Soren, Corvus, Pyrrah, and Terry take off looking for King Harrow in the body of Pip the songbird. They wouldn't even know to look except that Runaan confirmed that King Harrow didn't fight back at the assassination, and instead just squawked, and Corvus put the pieces together.

Ezran is still struggling to forgive Runaan for his part in Harrow's death, which I think actually adds to his depth of character. He's no longer an innocent child - the "true soul", "death of innocence" theme from this season was strong, and Ezran is the peak example of it. He must find a way to balance his ideals with the pain that far more adult figures have been struggling with for years. Callum made a good point bringing up that he forgave Zubeia, and we didn't get to see Ezran's response, but imo his reaction to Callum's betrayal sort of fills in the blanks. It was Zubeia's mate and son that she thought were dead. I can see how that would make more sense for a kid like Ezran, who grew up with very strong familial bonds and values, than Runaan and the other assassins carrying out revenge for someone else when they have no personal grudge of their own.

Anyways. Consider.

Pip/Harrow's been missing for three years now. That bird could be anywhere on either side of the continent by now, though he is living with the mind of a king. He's also nowhere near Katolis, or Ezran would have found him already, from going to talk to "Pip" and finding that the bird is carrying an entirely different soul.

So imagine, in that time lapse in the final episode, Soren and Corvus come back and confess that they haven't found anything of worth. The last maybe-sighting of Pip was from some soldiers in Viren's army who thought they saw the bird following them into the Sunfire plains in Xadia. It's been two years, and they don't know.

So Rayla says she knows someone who might be able to help. The best tracker in Xadia. He can find anyone on the Xadian side of the border, and anyone he's ever tried to find in the Human Kingdoms too. He's diligent and has only ever missed one target. If anyone can track down King Harrow, it's him . . . but Ez isn't going to like it.

Runaan.

And at first Ezran doesn't. But Rayla makes a point, and Corvus and Soren aren't having any luck on their own or with Terry (if he's even relevant, tbh, if I write it he probably won't be because i am still disturbedd by that guy). So he agrees - with conditions, of course.

Runaan is hesitant when he's told the news, and when Ezran asks him why, he just delicately points out that a king in the body of a bird is also a bird with none of the instincts of a bird, and may not have survived regardless of the war, unless he's learned how to feed himself and managed to avoid all possible predators for three years straight.

Ezran acknowledges it, tells him that's something he's . . . preparing for. But Corvus gets to make the call that they've searched too much and Harrow is likely dead. Not Runaan.

So the terms are agreed to and Runaan ends up going on a road trip with Soren and Corvus. Please imagine the comedic value of dignified older assassin in the midst of a major cultural deconstruction trying to do serious business with Soren. Especially Soren and Corvus. And the flip side - imagine Soren and Corvus seeing what Xadia is like towards Moonshadow elves, especially ones of Runaan's description (tall, menacing, leader, broken horn, homosexual - am I talking about Runaan or Kim'dael). Possibly featuring an appearance from the surviving Dragonguard, and Runaan's reaction to Hendyr specifically, the Skywing elf who KNEW Tiadrin and Lain stayed to protect the egg and chose not to save it or to clear their names.

[whatsthisascianbullshit]

Febhyurary 2025 Day 3 : REBORN

Whatever this 'awakening' process was that Amon's associates had attempted on her, it seemed to only partly work. This Panthea cannot control me, though I can hear her thoughts - or perhaps memories - in my mind as though I was interfacing with a node with her voice. I know enough to be certain of four things; 1. Amon has colluded with beings more ancient than the husk he reanimated and the very world itself. 2. These 'Ascians' as they call themselves can bring back old memories of a soul long dead and impose them upon an unsuspecting victim forcing a rebirth of what should stay in the past. 3. They intend to use Panthea's chaotic and destructive nature to destabilise Allag and force a calamity of apocalyptic proportions. 4. They did not truly know this Panthea in the slightest - these are not the memories of a chaotic force, these are the memories of someone who will above all else protect that which she holds dear no matter the cost. On this, we are completely aligned. With the assistance of Panthea's knowledge, I will ensure that the future is never again sacrificed for grand notions of the past.

- Deleted entry from Pandora, head administrator of the Azys Lla Research Facility, recovered from a hidden security node.

mini lore dump under the cut because I couldn't resist

I realise that this may be a bit cheeky including three OCs that are not hyurs in this prompt please forgive me this indulgence lol

Shortly before Allag fell for good the Ascians in the area attempted to awaken Pandora with a memory crystal Panthea had previously crafted as a scrapbook for herself. It did not work exactly as intended. Instead of Panthea's memories and presence overriding and overtaking her, Pandora merely had access to them and some semblance of a consciousness which was created through the botched awakening attempt.

The result of this was Pandora had her eyes opened to the fact that she and a large number of Amon's court had been directly manipulated for the Ascian plot. A plot that was somehow worse than Amon dragging Allag's past back from the dead instead of looking forward to new possibilities. A plot that would drag the entire star and all of the sundered reflections back eons into the past.

She turns spy and saboteur for the Meracydian resistance as a result and hides the memory crystal so that it can never be used against any future incarnations of her soul.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

what kind of underwear do you think Erik and Charles wear (i'm not asking this to see them half naked) ((please believe me)) (((PLEASE)))

My Personal Belief is charles is a briefs guy while erik's a trunks guy. trunks/briefs kinda couple because i can

and idk just a lil bonus or somethin. as i do.

[tianhai03]

i watched re death island today!!!!!1 it was really good!!!!!!!!! had to draw smth to celebrate :)

[jazzzzzzhands]

When Clown talked about reading books to home, i knew i had to draw Wally reading my favorite childhood book to Home!!

Also Wally painted a little heart on Home like face painting! oh and take my line art because i love lineart!

[nandermoenthusiast]

im just imagining nandermo in a very enclosed space like for some reason they gotta be chest to chest pushed up against a wall and its awkward for a moment but then nandors eyes are just boring into guillermos and guillermo has that uncertain but unwavering stare too, and is this what is gonna take for them to kiss?

[ratatatastic]

"Matthew before we start, I wanna talk to you about your mouthguard. What's the purpose of it? What purpose does it serve 'cuz it's never in your mouth?" "I mean, I guess it doesn't really serve that much of a purpose all the time? I try to keep it in as best I can but its got a mind of its own, and it's everywhere so... I don't know. I think in the important times I have it in? But it's not all the time." "Does that bother anyone? Teammates? Opposition? Probably your mum? Does she say anything?" "Yeah, my mom did not like it at the start but she's completely given up on it. Call it about 8 years ago, 9 years ago, when I came into the NHL she gave up on it so. I don't know! Teammates don't really care. Opposition? I've had it grabbed a few times but it's all good." "It's workin' for ya."

florida panthers @ edmonton oilers | 12.16.24 (x)

[bellacatt-art]

Helloooo!!! ^-^

Take this incredibly quick, very messy Holly doodle bc I'm obsessed with her 💘

Inspired by this screenshot:

That's all I've got atm, expect more Holly art soon bc she's a lot of fun to draw!! :D

[redhotarsenic]

THE STORM IS ABOUT TO RAGE!!

(for the lovely @nowfallc)

[mylove-thresher]

haven’t posted drawings in a while (well. A while to me.) so even tho I should probably work on my multiple school projects. I’m. I’m just a girl. ❤️

[australianklaviergavin]

My mom used to know a guy who would greet people he knew by licking their eyeball. I think Sholmes might do this. The lickerrrrr