#they’re harvesting from him in secret

[mello2003]

idk what the climate is around here anymore because i haven’t been in this fandom since like 2016……but lowkey i think this is his kid

what do we think people

[rosenotactuallyquartz]

pearl + rose + greg

(the importance of these complex relationships, along with some very common misconceptions)

first off, no one is married

i’m surprised by how many fans, particularly on other platforms, are under the impression that rose + greg were married.

even though it was confirmed that they never got married in gem harvest. pearl also said, “we heard you like marriage, so why don’t we all marry each other!” after andy & greg argued about the fact that greg never married steven’s mother. when ruby + sapphire’s wedding happens, it’s clearly a novelty to all the gems.

i also think that rose + greg not being married is an important detail. people like to assume that their relationship was one that was completely human, fitting into all the norms of human society & using a bunch of labels. it’s as if rose was human herself, as if greg ever expected her to fit in, in any way, shape, or form (no pun intended).

their relationship was anything but conventional; that was how they wanted it to be.

their relationship was unique. there was little to no pressure or arguing. it was based on love & respect & comfort instead of rules. rules held greg back his whole life & in order to be his true self, he had to rebel against those he knew throughout his early life. of course, rose can understand not wanting rules. as seen in we need to talk, rose also gets very uncomfortable & anxious when she can’t fully understand human beings, what they expect and how they feel. so, they found an in-between, where they could relate to each other and connect as individuals, instead of forcing themselves to have an entirely human relationship or a gem relationship. their relationship was relaxed, open, and they were able to destress when they spent time together.

they’re similar people. impulsive, playful, naive at times, soft-hearted. there were things that scared him from the past, and it was clearly the same for rose. when it came to emotional conversations, there was a line that they would never cross. past that line was a lot of very, very serious conversations. the demayos, the diamonds, secrets, fears, traumas, questions about gem stuff that greg felt wary of. they strived for an equal relationship, so their issues were often mutual. if greg’s not asking for complicated details about gem relationships, he likely won’t expect rose to comprehend marriage.

image description: sketch of rose + greg by rebecca sugar. greg is smiling and blushing but looks calm, his eyes closed. rose glances back at him with a slightly mischievous yet soft smile

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ⋆ ☁︎ ✩₊˚⋆⁺₊✧ ⋆ ☁︎

misconceptions

the assumption that rose + greg were married only worsens the many pearl + rose misunderstandings. consider this: greg + rose were married, but rose never married pearl, who she knew longer than everyone? must be unrequited. or, at least, exes (confirmed not unrequited; also, i doubt pearl + rose understand the term ex). greg + rose were married, so their relationship must have been more important than rose’s relationship with pearl. greg + rose were married, so pearl was talking about what actually happened when she said, she chose you. this assumption overlooks pearl’s self worth issues & insecurities, the true meaning behind both of you, the importance of pearl + rose’s relationship, the miscommunications, the differences between gem & human relationships.

image description: alone at sea promotional art by hilary florido. greg is about to jump into a pool with steven standing next to him in a coach outfit, with a whistle. pearl, amethyst, and rose are sitting against the wall in swimsuits. rose looks at him with admiration, amethyst is grinning, and pearl has a look of disapproval.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ⋆ ☁︎ ✩₊˚⋆⁺₊✧ ⋆ ☁︎

pearlrose & gregrose

steven universe ships are often sorted into either “good” or “bad” categories by the fandom, which overlooks the fact that both of these relationships are… far more interesting. i wouldn’t be here if it were that simple. both relationships are comforting & beautiful & sweet & complicated & flawed & important for rose’s character. i love exploring the complexities of both, because:

"the thing that she really lacks is balance, any ability to temper her extremes. this is part of her character throughout her forms: she's always very extreme." — rebecca sugar, end of an era

rose’s two intimate relationships are with individuals who are opposites in various ways, their contrasting traits being different extremes.

pearl + rose had a lot of mutual codependency, which makes sense considering their contrasting personalities, witnessing a lot of each other’s trauma, and having shared trauma as well as intense, dark secrets. rose + greg both loved escapism, which is fitting as they are similar people who cope in similar ways, meeting after major traumas.

one of rose’s partners is overprotective, the other laidback; one is particularly serious about being told everything, and for good reason considering what she knows and what she + rose have been through. the other really, really understands not wanting to discuss painful pasts, and for good reason considering what he doesn’t know and what he’s been through.

rose forms meaningful relationships with both of them. her feelings were similar in the way that she loved them both. she related to both of them & admired both of them, too. she particularly admired pearl in a i-think-you’re-so-good-and-i’m-nothing-like-you way, because they have so many differences. she particularly related to greg, as they have so many parallels, she loves humanity, and she feels like she would be a lot like him if she were human.

both of them were comforting to rose. pearl was incredibly caring; she cared a lot about the pain that no one else could know about. she was gentle but very encouraging when it came to rose not needing to keep things from her. and if rose was sad, i’m sure she could tell. i was the one she told everything to! i can imagine pearl comforting rose, knowing what was going on without rose needing to say much. it was also comforting to rose that pearl knew about so many things she was ashamed of, but she remained on her side at all times and loved her so deeply and openly. rose had very intense emotions, & greg had a way of keeping life light which gave her a very particular kind of comfort. he would make her laugh when she wanted to cry & he would distract her whenever she was consumed by her emotions and spiraling thoughts. she loved the simplicity and it was comforting that he didn’t know about her past because they could start fresh together.

greg took pride in being accepting and supportive of everyone’s decisions, never trying to control things. it’s what he always wanted, and rose reciprocated. she supported & believed in him, which helped him heal from his childhood in a lot of ways. but, there’s also this:

"on the flip side, they enable each other. she never unpacks what scares her about her past, and neither does he” — rebecca sugar, end of an era

greg's relaxed personality & not knowing about her past made rose feel very comfortable… but almost too comfortable with hiding things. greg was happy when rose was happy, and this was very sincere. he taught her so much about humans & she ultimately decided to have steven. the love that she had for her unborn child was so strong & genuine & she trusted greg, knowing that he would be a wonderful father. i don’t even need to say anything about how much he loves steven. the issue is, she couldn’t quite understand the pain he would feel if she was no longer in his life. rose also had self hatred that was connected to pain from the past that greg didn’t know about.

in contrast, pearl knowing so much & having a history with rose made rose feel concerned about causing her stress. due to her self hatred, rose always focused on the negative aspects of herself. she couldn’t quite understand all the positive things she brought to pearl’s life, the ways that she was good for her (despite how expressive & intense pearl’s love was). don’t get me wrong, pearl’s love helped rose in so many ways, but due to lack of love for herself, rose could never quite wrap her head around why pearl adored her so much. the comfort, the closeness, the warmth, all the reasons pearl wanted to live with her forever.

with that said, she felt so much love and care from both of them. she simply felt undeserving of it because of the way she felt about herself. they all loved steven completely, rose was so excited for him to exist, and she wholeheartedly believed greg and the gems would be such important parts of steven’s life. nothing changes that.

this isn’t a one-couple-is-perfect-and-married-and-the-other-is-bad-and-unrequited situation, as some believe it is. both relationships are complex. rose was in a lot of pain resulting from personal issues, but pearl & greg both brought comfort to her in unique ways because of their differences. they now bring comfort to steven in their own, unique ways! i’m sure rose imagined that & she would be very proud of both of them.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ⋆ ☁︎ ✩₊˚⋆⁺₊✧ ⋆ ☁︎

image description: sketch in black and white of greg, rose quartz, and pearl. greg looks behind him, appearing confused and he is standing up. rose and pearl are kneeling and pearl's face is in rose's hands as she looks up at her.

[keydekyie]

The Drover's Shadow

[closeups and possible book IV snippet below the cut]

742 words, no content warnings

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The little valley was cut through by a river that had carved out a sandy, pebbly ravine. On the far side, trundling along like little bundles of fuzz in the wind, was a drove of wegs. Their piggy snouts were turned up in caution to the wind, and their robe-clad drover strode among them with a bent crook. The drover stopped and stared when Ruyak came into sight, letting the drove shuffle past along the grassy hill.

Kaelin waved in greeting, and after a hesitant moment, the drover raised the crook in return.

It was a sizable drove, at least two dozen head, and probably large enough for two drovers, or at least a drover with a rodi for help, but the wegs were led obediently enough by their singular drover, and seemed perfectly willing to continue on their way in the opposite direction Ruyak was heading.

“They’re going up into the highlands for the season,” Kaelin said to Ruyak conversationally. “The cold air makes the fleece thicker.”

Ruyak didn’t reply, just kept moving at a steady pace.

“Did you ever see droves in your family’s territory?”

“Sometimes,” Ruyak muttered, and his tone was startlingly bleak. Kaelin sensed an uncomfortable subject, and so steered away from it.

“We’ll be coming to the Dakatin valley soon. The finest wool in Kellabor comes from there. The blends and techniques to make it are a trade secret, supposedly, but I’ve heard the only secret is the silk they mix in. My new nightgown is Dakatin wool.”

“It does seem very nice,” Ruyak mumbled.

“Those wegs’ wool will go to make something quite fine. They look very healthy.”

“Are they harvested at the end of the season, then?”

“Harvested? Oh, wegs aren’t killed for their wool, no. They’re shorn once a year, sometimes twice depending on the breed, I think. Although, they do make for good meat, especially if they’re grazed in forests. And their skins make excellent cloaks. So they are sometimes butchered for those reasons. But most are just shorn.”

Ruyak nodded in understanding, then a moment later he shook with a derisive laugh. “If us Kanai were smart, we’d be making good trade with drovers. Safe grazing in exchange for a bit of wool every season.” Ruyak grew somber again. “I’ve heard drovers singing in the mountains. Sometimes their roden sang with them, and even the wegs would squeal along on bright mornings. Not good singers, wegs.”

“I don’t imagine so,” Kaelin chuckled. “Enthusiastic, though.”

“Very.” Ruyak glanced back at the drover again with a smile, and slowly came to a stop, watching that lone human figure among the cloud of white wegs. Ruyak’s face twisted into a pained grimace. Worrying? Imagining the drover walking into danger up in the mountains? Where the forest’s many guardians were ready to snuff them out at the slightest provocation?

“I’m sorry to say it, Ruyak,” Kaelin murmured, “but you’re going to frighten that drover staring like that.”

“Augh, you’re right.” He shook off, as though he’d been doused with water, then turned and continued on his way. “I wasn’t thinking.”

Obviously he’d been thinking quite hard, just then, but perhaps not about that in particular. Kaelin could sense his change of mood like a storm rolling in. She knew exactly why the clouds were gathering. It was entirely possible the last weg drover Ruyak had been so close to had not survived the encounter.

“Drovers are sensible,” Kaelin told him. “They know the places that are safe.”

Ruyak pinned his ears and said nothing. Not a good sign.

So Kaelin went on, “Humans that go up into the wild places don’t venture there ignorant of the danger. They know what they are risking.”

“Then why would they risk it?”

“For their livelihoods, seeking their fortunes. Money, I mean. Or food for themselves, but usually not. Not if they are going far enough into the wilderness to meet the likes of you.”

Ruyak thought about that for a long moment, and the drover and wegs passed out of sight into the trees, each white, fluffy weg quietly vanishing. “I… I truly wish I could believe that, but I don’t think all of them…”

“Drovers know it too. We all know. As children we’re taught songs and stories and rhymes. We all know someone who never came back. Everyone knows that when you step into the dark, you might not step back out again.”

[callsign-rogueone]

harvest day - l.m.

secret admirer!Liam x Luceran!reader. part of my Valentine’s Day celly! 💕 words: 932 🏷: reader is feminine and has longish hair (can be tied), but no pronouns used. I am once again making random stuff up about Navarrian cultures. featuring my farm-boy Sawyer headcanon lmao (Luceras doesn’t have one major city on the map in the book. It’s all farmland, and you cannot convince me otherwise.)

You nearly crush it under your boot in your hurry to get to class, stepping back at the last second to pick it up.

A tiny dragon carved from wood -- your dragon, complete with his horns and a tiny spiked tail. You run your fingers over the wood — it’s been sanded, perfectly smooth against your skin. The level of detail is incredible. This must have taken hours.

“You’re going to be late, humble one.”

Right. You tuck it into the pocket of your jacket, locking your door behind you and jogging down the hall. 

You make it just in time, apologizing your way down the row, stepping around people’s feet carefully until you’ve made it to your friends. You settle between Rhiannon and Sawyer, thanking them for saving you a seat. “Overslept,” you explain, digging in your bag for your notebook, which you had nearly forgotten to pack.

You remove your flight jacket, taking the tiny dragon from your pocket and setting it on the desk beside your pen.

“Whoa, sick! Who made that?” Sawyer asks.

“I don’t know. I just found it outside my door. It looks just like him, though. Even got the horns right.”

“It is a very good representation of me,” Cruith appraises. “Though I have never once been that small.”

“That's awesome. Maybe they’re like, a wood-wielder or something,” Ridoc suggests, leaning over to examine it.

“I’m pretty sure that signet doesn’t exist,” Rhiannon says dryly.

“If he can do all that with metal, then it's entirely possible someone could do it with wood,” Ridoc defends.

“That’s what she said,” Sawyer says quietly, trying not to laugh.

Ridoc grins. “I’m rubbing off on you, man.”

You snort. “Now that's what she said.”

“Focus,” Rhiannon scolds lightly, ever the responsible squad leader, her eyes not having left the chalkboard this whole time.

“Yes, mom,” the three of you chorus softly, turning your attention back to the professor. 

Violet looks like she has something to say, but she remains quiet.

---------------------------------------------------

“Mail call,” Rhiannon announces, distributing opened letters to each of you.

Your heart drops as soon as you start to read yours.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I just didn’t realize the date. It’s Harvest Day on Wednesday. Last year I was just too busy trying to stay alive to think about it, but…”

Sawyer winces, understanding. “I wish I could be there too. I swear when I graduate, I’m gonna use all my leave every year to help them.”

“I’m so lost,” Ridoc says, looking between you.

You laugh, explaining. “Everyone spends the day — the week, really — helping their neighbors harvest their crops, and there’s always a feast at the end with what we’ve grown.”

“Gods, the food. My family doesn’t come from much, but that was always the one day a year I felt like we were rich,” Sawyer admits.

You sigh in agreement. “It’s gonna be so weird wearing black all day instead of fall colors.” 

“That is the most Luceran thing I’ve ever heard,” Ridoc says. “Sometimes I forget you guys are all farmers.”

“It’s only our single most important holiday,” you laugh. “And we’re not all farmers. Two of us are dragon riders.” 

Sawyer grins at you, putting a hand up for a high five. “Damn right we are.”

---------------------------------------------------

Everyone’s eyes widen at the silky orange ribbon tying your hair back. You beam, turning your head to show it off. “Courtesy of the wood-wielder. I have no idea where they got it.”

Your joy is short-lived.

“Precisely what is that, cadet?” Dain asks sharply, and your face falls. There’s only one thing he can be taking issue with, the only spot of color in the sea of black making up your formation.

“It’s a Luceran tradition,” someone says for you — but not Sawyer or any of your friends. “Today is Harvest Day.”

You turn toward the voice, seeing Liam behind you, his eyes locked with Dain’s as if he’s daring the wingleader to argue with him. How does he know about the holiday? Had he overheard your conversation with your squad earlier?

“I expect it to be gone tomorrow,” Dain concedes. “You’re all dismissed.”

You breathe a sigh of relief as everyone files out of the hall.

“Liam?” You ask softly, and he stops, turning toward you. “Thank you.”

Then you see the small block of wood in his hand, the rough shape of another dragon etched into it. “It was you,” you whisper, stunned.

He laughs. “What?”

You reach into your pocket, producing the carving of Cruith. “You made this, right? Were you the one who wrote those physics notes for me when I was in the infirmary, too?” 

He smiles. “Yeah. That was all me.”

Your heart flutters with hope. “Why?”

“Because I was too nervous to say it, but I really like you.”

You blink. Liam, the one who isn’t scared of anything, was nervous to talk to you? And he has a crush on you? You’ve always found him attractive, but you had never thought this a possibility.

“Say something,” Cruith prods, sounding amused.

You finally form words. “Do you want to go into town with me this weekend?”

He blushes, scratching the back of his neck. “I would really like that.”

“Hey, lovebirds, are you coming to breakfast, or what?” Ridoc calls. “Some of us are starving over here!”

You laugh, a sound Liam will never tire of. “Just a minute!” You yell back.

You touch your fingertips to the soft silk, looking up at him. “Thank you, Liam. It really means a lot to me.”

He smiles. “Of course, sweetheart.”

[toulousewayne]

A Robin’s Quarrel 🏹⚔️

Red Robin X male!reader with a male Amazon.

Summary:Your a male Amazon/Gargareans,who is sent to the Man’s world to find Ares and stop him from enslaving humans and killing the Amazons. You need Tim’s help in your quest to stop Ares.

—————

The island of Thalarion was home to a race of men similar to the Amazons, they’re known as Gargareans. Most of the men there are reincarnations of men who had died in battle. Zeus and the other Gods created them to be equal to the Amazons and they’ve lived here for centuries. Many of the men there trained and practiced their skills, none really craved for more than that. Except for one Gargarean, Argus.

He had heard stories of the Goddess blessing those with gifts of children and families, he loved and would die for his brothers but he longed for something more.

Against his King’s orders he read secret documents and one night during a full harvest moon the island was in a celebration and feast. Argus ventured to a small part of the island and into a cave they long had been abandoned. He made a small offering on the alter and used his blood. He begged and asked the Goddess Hera for a child. Many of the islands inhabited were adults and returned as such, no male child had been on the island. That night lighting struck the alter sending the man away.

On the alter was a bundle wrapped in red silk, Argus unwrapped it and found a baby boy sleeping peacefully. When he returned to his brothers it caused the festival stop and almost none of them had seen a baby. The king was furious and nearly had Argus killed but several men vouched for him and refused to allow the King to harm him or the child. From then on the child would be look after by the entire island, and the King too grow to like the boy, he was named Y/n.

———-

Y/n was a curious and cheerful boy, he loved learning from his father, watching the men train and learning with the King and his Advisers.

Y/n was trained in combat and was a skilled swordsman and archer. Argus and the King meet several times to discuss the boys futures. By the time Y/n was Eighteen it was determined that he would be the Gargarean’s champion and would go to man’s world to defeat Ares who had long become twisted on his plans of world domination. Y/n was to be sent to stop him like the Amazons had let Diana leave years prior.

“My son,Y/n brings me great join that you will be our champion but I will never be able to be okay without your presence.” Y/n teary eye hugs his father before standing before the King.

“You have brought great joy to this dull island little solider. You will bring great honor to us all and you will be sent where none of us have ever been. Do not forget your training and remember Ares will have spies you must trust your own judgment.” Before he left the king gave armor and weapons.

“This sword was once used to slay the Gorgon Medusa, the Harpe of Perseus. Shield of Achilles. Lastly, this item will be a Lasso of your own.”

“What does it do?” Y/n asked securing it to his armor. The king grinned grimly.

“I hope you never had to use it, but you must go now.” Y/n boarded a boat was pushed from the island by two of the strongest men. He waved goodbye to his father before him and the entire island was covered in smoke and was never seen again.

When he awoke it was nightfall again and he saw a land with large buildings and shining lights.

“Great Hades this place is dark and smells.” Once he touched the dock he draped himself in a cloak and wandering to the street. The people around him gave him strange looks. He wondered around until he heard a loud ringing.

He ventured around the corner until he saw a sea of red and blue light flashing in front of a pantheon like building. Drawing closer he walks inside and heard shouts and loud banging.

He turns the corner to see a man with half his face deformed firing a large gun at a boy closer to his age in red, black, green and yellow colors.

“Why do you flip around so much?” The boy turned to him with shock.

“You gotta go before he—“

The man chuckles,”Brought a friend with ya kid? Too bad the coin says you both get you die tonight.” Two-Face starts shooting at Y/n. Y/n in one swift moment shields the young hero and uses his braces on his forearm to deflect the incoming bullets. Once Two-Face’s has noticed he gets pissed.

“What kinda freak are ya?”

Y/n smiles, I believe that if anyone in this room is a freak it would be you my friend.” Before Two-Face can reply Y/n takes his shield and throws it disarming him, next he takes the lasso and wraps Two-Face up and yanking him up.

“You-“ he’s cut off by Y/n lifting him off the ground and staring up at him.

“Why are you desecrating this building.” The hero wants up and places a hand on Y/n’s braces.

“It’s okay, I can talk him from here.” Y/n looked down at the hero, he nodded before untying Two Face who collapsed to the ground and was swiftly knocked out and hand cuffed.

Red Robin turned to the boy and stopped him before he could leave.

“Thank you, but I had that under control. Who are you?” Y/n eyed him.

“I’m Y/n of Thalarion, I’ve been sent to Man’s world to find and stop Ares. Who are you colorful mortal?”

Red Robin raised a masked brow. “Red Robin,why are you in Gotham?”

Y/n shrugged. “My boat brought me here, I’m sure Ares’ not far from here.” He turns and leaves. Red Robin chases after him and he sees him already across the street pointing a sword at a taxi.

“Are you Ares’ Chariot driver, speak now and I will spare you?” Red Robin swiftly runs to him and pushes him out the road as the taxi driver swears and shouts at the pair.

“Why did you do that, he could have lead me to Ares!” Y/n is angry and it’s only now Tim notices how the young Thalarion towers over him by a foot and a half.

“Look your never gonna find him this way, I have friends. Allies who can help. If you trust me I can help you, but I need you to trust me.” The young Thalarion huffs and calms down.

“If you insist, take me to these friends of yours. My quest is too valuable to wait.” Red Robin sighs and ushers him to follow.

———

The two stand on a rooftop in Gotham City Sqaure and Y/n is taking in the city for the first time.

“Is this where you lived,thigh lights are..breath taking.” Red Robin turns to him and walks to the edge where he’s standing.

“I grew up on the outskirts of the city, but yes every once in a while I do take in the views. Unaware to him Y/n looked at Tim as he was talking and returned his gaze to the city.

“These friends of yours how will they help, do they know where Ares is?” Red Robin looks down at the ground.

“I don’t know, but I think they’ll have more for you to go on.”

“Red Robin.” The pair turn to see Batman and Wonder Woman.

“Great Hera, I didn’t even know there were still Thalarions.” Wonder Woman looked at the boy in shock.

“What is this about Ares returning?” Batman eyed the young Thalarion before.

“I’ve been sent to find him and stop him, Red Robin says you have information. After that’ll be on my way.”

Batman didn’t move and Wonder Woman was slowly regaining her composure. “Yes, and if it’s true and he’s returned they we don’t have much time to prepare.”

“Red Robin and I we will meet with you later. I’ll contact you.” Wonder Woman nodded and turned to Y/n.

“Follow me.” The two flew off Batman looked back at him.

“Where did you find him?” He turned to grapple.

“He found me,he saved me.”

“Hmmm.” Batman grappled towards the city with Red Robin not far behind him.

[tllgrrl]

Grimes 68 by @tllgrrl aka nefertiri jones

Summary: After almost 8 years apart, Michonne finds Rick Grimes, the love of her life and father of their children, and he brings her into the Civic Republic Military. For the time being: 1) She has to pretend to be someone else to avoid being seen as a threat; 2) He has to figure out a plan for the two of them to get out; and 3) They have to try and act like they’re strangers to each other instead of reunited lovers.

(The key word is “try”.)

* * * * *

*CLANK…CLANK…CLANK…*

The steel kill sticks striking against the brick wall rang in the parking lot of what was left of a post office.

A former postal service semi that now had protective grills over the windows led the next herd of the dead, or what the CRM called “deltas”— “delts” for short—into the large space on the one side of the harvest wall.

The shuffling hoard was drawn by the noise and flashing lights mounted on the truck.

*CLANK…CLANK…CLANK…CLANK…*

The consignees readied themselves on the other side, and as the delts shambled to open spaces in the wall, each one was met with a blow that drove a sharp, prong-ended spear (“kill stick”) into its skull, followed by a twist of the wrist that destroyed its brain, effectively and finally killing it.

It was a repetitive, bloody, mind-numbing grind, and some said that it was brutal for the workers because it wasn’t easy to completely forget that the delts were once living human beings too.

Grimes had done his time at The Wall. He’d even become a legend with the number of kills he could rack up in a shift.

It was painted in big letters on the side of a nearby building, for all to see:

GRIMES 68.

He was also well-known for the number of attempts he’d made to do something no one else in the City wanted to do: Escape. Wanting to leave the safety and security of the CR so badly that he actually cut off his own shackled hand at the wrist, only to fail again and be brought back to the Wall.

Time and time again an officer in the Civic Republic Military gave him a chance to join up, and he refused each offer, preferring to be at the culling facility, killing the dead and planning his next escape attempt.

Then one day, he accepted the offer. He traded his Consignee jacket for a CRM uniform. Instead of using a kill stick, he got a fancy, deadly prosthetic hand with a retractable blade. He got all kinds of specialized training, all the perks as he rose through the ranks, and he never had to cull delts again.

But now, after having been gone for years, there he was. Back at the Wall. Watching.

Watching her.

The new consignee.

The dark-skinned Black woman with her hair cut short on one side of her head, exposing a beautiful profile; and locs cascading down just past her shoulder in the back and on the other side of her face .

The woman who, after her on-boarding interview, was designated a Type “B”, seeking safety, willing to work, and keeping to herself, but had the carriage and demeanour of an “A” who was always observing, was more than capable of defending herself, and being a provider of safety. A leader.

Word soon got around among the Consignees that the ex-consignee/now military officer known as “the famous Rick Grimes” had not only survived a chopper crash, but he’d started showing up at the harvest wall. Coming back to a place he’d gotten away from years earlier, only to return when a mysterious new consignee was brought into the CRM.

*CLANK…CLANK…CLANK…*

“Hey. Look who just pulled up,” said a consignee who had her red hair tied back with, of all things, a bright pink ribbon that was tied in a bow.

“Holy shit! ‘zat Grimes?” another consignee added, tying a bandana on his head, cholo style, then slipping on his face shield. “He doesn’t have to be here any more. What’s up with that?”

“Bethune’s not-so-secret admirer,” snickered the worker to pink bow’s left, stabbing his kill stick into a delt that sagged and dropped. “She doesn’t see him yet. But she knows he’s there. Watch. In 3..2..1.”

Michonne—known to the other consignees as “Dana Bethune” —stationed at the far end of the wall, continued to methodically dispatch delts.

Then she stopped, looked over her shoulder, and found the tall CRM officer. Standing there, at ease, even with his helmet and face guard on, she knew he was watching her.

It seemed like they stood there, the only people at the wall. 5…10…15 minutes. Watching each other. Breathing the same air. At last…

3 seconds later, she turned her head back to the oncoming delts, and went back to work.

Behind her mask, the other consignees couldn’t see the small smile that graced her lips, or hear her whisper “I found you.”

Behind his mask, no one could see the CRM officer smile as he whispered “You found me.”

*CLANK…CLANK…CLANK…*

“You see that?” drawled the consignee to pink bow’s right, continuing to spear oncoming delts. “Somethin’s up with those two.”

“I know, right? For the past two weeks, he’s here. Same time every day she’s on shift, just before third break. Look at him lookin’. Even wearin’ the consignee jacket, the mask, an’ her hair all tucked in, it only takes him a second to find her. And a second for her to know he’s here. Like they’re—”

“Might could be that ass is imprinted on his brain!” laughed a big man nearby with a bushy black beard.

“Maybe it’s because she saved his life out there.”

“Peterson said somethin’ about that. It’s true?”

“‘parently so. His chopper went down. Got blown right outta the sky and crashed.”

“You serious?!”

“Word is it was a scrub with some kinda RPG an’ shit,” a consignee added to the story while wiping a splatter of brains and blood off of his face guard.

“Stop lyin’! How’d they even get that? After the Fall, CRM took over most of the bases out there with a quickness.”

“There was military stuff out in the wild even before everything went to shit. All kinds o’ stuff is still out there,” bushy beard opined. “Shouldn’t be a surprise all these years later somebody has a bazooka or some ordinance hidden away. There’s jeeps, even tanks here and there. I lived in one for a couple o’ months before I got found and brought here. CRM scoops ‘em up quick as they can, but—”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. So anyway, the scuttlebut’s that Sargent Major Loverboy there, an’ the other troopers jumped out of the wrecked chopper an’ the scrub starts firein’ on ‘em. The ones he could catch, he slit their throats…with a sword.”

“A what?” bandana scoffed, stabbing into what was left of the next delt’s face. “Get outta here with that BS, man!”

“I’m just tellin’ you what I heard! Grimes was about ta get got, when Bethune comes runnin’ outta the woods, grabs one of the dead trooper’s weapons and shoots the scrub!”

“Wow. Maybe that’s why he’s here all the time,” pink bow chuckled. “Hell, I’d be in love with her too.”

“Get in line,” beard snarked. “You really think those two know each other?”

“Know each other?” the woman laughed, stabbed a delt and shook its eyeball off of her kill stick. “I think they’re fuckin’.”

“No way!” bandana exclaimed. “She just got here!”

<<<Good work, Section 5 and 6 Consignees. Bethune and Clifton, please report to post-shift health check before boarding transport.>>>

“Think about it,” pink bow explained. “Grimes is an officer on the inside now and doesn’t need to be at the Harvest Wall any more. Who’d come back to this shit after their 6 years of consignment is up? Now, all of a sudden, he’s back. Out here almost every day. Why?”

She tipped her head toward the driveway and they watched Grimes remove his helmet and turn completely around to watch “why” aka “Dana Bethune” walk past, avoiding his eyes.

*CLANK…CLANK…CLANK…*

“Oh, yeah…” pink bow grinned. “They’re fuckin’.”

* * * * *

This bit of nonsense was inspired by The Walking Dead spin-off, The Ones Who Live - Episode 3: “Bye”.

Click HERE for the AO3 version.

Thank you for reading!

[outtoshatter]

Author spotlight of the week: @aurevell! They have heaps of fics to choose from!

Under 10k:

Returning the Favor | T | 5k tags: established relationship, same age Derek Hale and Stiles Stilinski, fluff, Stiles doesn't know about werewolves Summary: Stiles pays a nighttime visit to his boyfriend in secret, or so he thinks. Unfortunately, the Hale family has keener ears than he realizes.

When Derek peers down into the dark, he finds the worst thing imaginable: his boyfriend, scaling the side of the house like some deranged cat burglar. "What are you doing here?" Derek hisses.

Burial Rituals | G | 4k tags: necromancer Stiles, cursed Derek, meet-cute Summary: The necromancer freezes halfway over the fence, stuttering to a halt the second Derek flashes his red eyes. It’s an awkward pose to hold: leg hiked up over the waist-high bars, hands gripping the rail for balance. The fence’s wrought-iron spears dig into his calf a bit as he settles, clearly caught off guard.

“Uh,” he says lamely, his face pale in the scant moonlight. “Shit.”

Derek guards an abandoned cemetery. Stiles is the necromancer trying to break in.

Sugar in my Coffee | G | 3k tags: no werewolves, established relationship, domestic fluff Summary: Derek’s not a morning person. Stiles would live on sugar if he could.

Lessons in Catiquette | T | 3k tags: creature Stiles, slice of life, pack bonding Summary: The pack’s resident werecat is kind of a mystery to Derek. Luckily, Stiles offers one-on-one tutoring.

It May Simply Lie in Wait | G | 5k tags: getting together, declarations of love, magical Stiles Summary: “This place is haunted as hell,” one boy says under his breath.

The house remembers itself, letting out a subtle upstairs creak to let them know what they’re in for. They enter anyway, inspecting its shamefully crumbled furnishings, running fingers over its tattered walls, crouching to peer at the ceiling tiles fallen on its floor, and the house—

The house does not chase them away.

Years after the fire, Derek and Stiles return to the Hale House. It isn’t sure how it feels about this.

Stories Over 10k:

The Only Thing Left | T | 13k tags: angst, no werewolves, creature Derek Summary: “You don’t need air,” Stiles echoes. “You swim. That doesn’t tell me much. What are you?”

Derek stares. He slowly lifts his shoulders and drops them back into the water.

Or, Stiles meets a stranger at the spring outside of town.

Where we Both Could Live | M | 16k tags: shy Derek, meet cute, friends to lovers Summary: Derek’s having a hard time falling asleep in his noisy new apartment.

His next-door neighbor, who always seems to be talking or singing, is surprisingly helpful with that problem.

The Third Sacrifice | T | 21k tags: magical Stiles, dark fairy tale elements, human sacrifice Summary: Stiles can see the writing on the wall. Everyone knows the Stilinskis are cursed, or magic, or both. He knows he’ll be picked as the third sacrifice—the one that dies for the sake of the harvest. But he doesn’t intend to let some ancient god rip his heart out, not if magic can help it.

If only Derek, his estranged best friend, would stop hounding him about his plans to escape.

A Badge for Everything | T | 11k tags: good alpha Derek, BAMF Stiles, boy scout Stiles, getting together Summary: Stiles Stilinski is the only loser left in a pack full of wolves who’d do anything to leave their loser days behind.

(Everything’s the same, but Stiles is a boy scout. That’s it. That’s the story.)

The Beginner's Guide to Everyday Magic | T | 29k | 8 chapters tags: magical Stiles, Stiles is pushed out of the pack, fluff, angst, Studio Ghibli vibes Summary: When the latest threat sweeps into Beacon Hills, Derek decides that the very-much-human Stiles needs to be severed from the pack for his own safety. But when the ritual goes unexpectedly wrong, Stiles finds himself alone—and unable to reach out for help when he needs it most.

Cue a retreat to his mom’s old house, where he finds that magic is more real than he ever could have imagined.

Go check out aurevell's AO3 page, and don't forget to mind the tags, leave a kudos and maybe even a comment!

[merakiui]

MERAAA it’s phantom anon here (・ω・)ノ

lemme just tell you- i’ve been rereading your old works and they never. stop. hitting.

but RABU JADE??!?? OH BROTHER

*pulls up a chair and sits down unceremoniously*

he hasn’t left my mind ever since i’ve read it. he’s quite literally- a leech.

i’ve been thinking of how poor ol’ reader is gonna get out of the predicament they’re currently facing.

(which i will send another ask about cause oh my god the rot in my brain- it’s festering i tell ya)

i def think that jade had some kind of sick pleasure knowing that he was boiling fingers and the like while reader was right. there.

seconds away from checking the pot. inches away from the last remains of the restaurants last dine-&-dash victim

he could have you find out anytime he likes, ‘darling mind stirring the pot for me?’ ‘darling could you help drain the broth from the pot?’ ‘honey how would you like to help me prep for the day- there’s a bag in the freezer i need you to get’

i can see him biting his lip in some, perverse pleasure, as he watches reader scurry around the kitchen doing her thang. checking the pot right next to his. his breathe hitched when you’re about to unmask his… secret.

but with a little ‘whoops’ and a giggle of ‘wrong pot,’ jade’s heart beats a little faster, his teeth clamps a little harder, a bead of blood on his lip as he has to excuse himself.

i think he lays awake in bed some nights, holding reader tightly as he lets his mind wander. how would reader react? would you get nauseous? would you faint? would you yell at him: if so in despair or anger? would you try calling the cops? would you try calling floyd?- his arms get a little tighter at the thought of you in his twin’s arms.

would you try to convince him you didn’t see anything? would you flinch if he tried touching you.

all these scenarios racing through his head- would you help him?

ahhh maybe he gets so shy thinking about the two of you cooking… with love. yes you do it already but this is a different kind of intimacy 🙈

but i also don’t think he was ready for the day to actually come- much rather fantasize about your reactions. because they’re just that- fantasizes

after all, every couple has their secrets. and a bit of mystery always spices up things a bit 🙈

so jade seeing reader as stiff as a brick while in front of his pot had a different kind of thumping in his chest.

(imagine reader trying to distract him with the pregnancy test they tried slipping in the pot HHAHAXHAHA- don’t reader put it in a 2 sealed plastic baggys cause they have a 3 star standard to uphold!!)

YAY!!

ALSO I JDUT SAW ANGELS OF TOBET GOT POSTED SO LEMME JUST SCURRY OVER TO THERE😸😸

Phantom anon, hi hiii!! ⸜(｡ ˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

Oh, RABU Jade...... he really does have all sorts of twisted fantasies. >_< you have no other choice but to continue loving him, for he's your darling husband. But the fingers in the pot and Jade's secret are second to the biggest news: your pregnancy!!! <3 aaaa Jade's just so happy. Maybe he promises not to harvest anymore special ingredients so it won't stress you and the baby out. But if you find yourself craving that yummy bone broth with its dubious ingredients, who is he to deny you?

You're definitely going to have to reevaluate your husband after discovering this hidden side. ^^;;; confiding in someone else is dangerous because you have no idea what he might do to them, especially if that person is Detective Ashengrotto. ;;;;; maybe Floyd might have some advice.... :)

AAAAAA OTL I just love RABU Jade!! He's so devious.

[rampantram]

So this was kinda off the top of my head but here’s a story for you featuring Barrett and Leshy, wholesome ending included.

——————————

Again…it happened again, it wasn’t hard to imagine but for it happen all at once…call it bad luck. Well no time to waist, it was time to call in the cavalry. At least it’s just one baby they’d have to look after this time, the twins were spending the day with the other twins…Aym and Baal yes those were their names. Sozo wasn’t sure what to make of them accept the fact they were excellent fighters and survivalists, they also seemed very taken to Narinder for some odd reason. Either way he was just thankful the Lamb’s older children were away…but that was left with a small issue.

“Which one of you is going to look after the infant?”

The four bishops stood there, staring at the doctor for what seemed like an eternity…well for only a minute before eyes fell on Leshy who…oddly was silent. However this didn’t stop Sozo from approaching the worm in question.

“Leshy, you’ll be looking after Barrett. The rest of your siblings will help me with the recovery for the lamb and their spouses.”

“An you automatically decide to-“ before Leshy could finish the infant was placed in his arms, Sozo didn’t have time to argue; not with three sick people on hand. He turned but already he could feel everyone leaving him alone…with…the baby.

Well…not like he had a choice and it wasn’t a secret he liked his new niece. He just hated the fact they were being pushed on to him out of the blue, but he relented and walked outside with the little one. Fresh air would do them both good, it also gave him a chance to get a good ‘look’ at his new niece.

“So Barrett’s yer name, cute.” Leshy chuckled, he held the tiny infant up. Though his sight was bad he could make out some details.

Like the fact she was fluffy, squishy, had a ‘sleepy’ expression compared to her older siblings. He almost busted out laughing, recalling when Belle and Beau were born. How Beau had the same glower as Narinder while Belle sported a smile like the lamb. But this little one, they had a face identical to Ewe…especially when they pout.

“Oh yeah, ya got yer ma’s face. Wonder what yer gonna act like when you get big, maybe yer gonna be a spitting image of yer mom in looks and brain.” Leshy chuckled, gently pulling the little one back into a gentle hug. “So what are we gonna do, yer too small to play the games Belle likes. Doubt you’ll understand half the stories Beau likes to read, so tour it is!”

Leshy pulled out a long cloth, he had to give credit where credit was due. The mothers in the cult knew how to handle their babies, especially when working. He and Escher often saw mothers make harnesses out of old strips of cloth so they carry their babies on their backs. Though for this little tour of the cult grounds Leshy opted to tie the cloth into a ‘sling’ in front of him to hold the little bundle.

First place, the farmland, the one place Leshy enjoyed just as much as Escher and playing with the other children. They walked around the Camellia patches, past the pumpkins that looked ready to harvest, past the radishes an made their way to the store house. All while he pointed out each plant to her and explained what they were.

“Those are pumpkins, an those are radishes those grow very fast. Over there are my personal favorite, Camellias. They can be used for medicine, rituals and yer mama makes them into make up that drives your dad and baba crazy sometimes. I like to eat them the way they are, they’re tasty that way!”

Barrett blinked her eyes at the strange red blossoms around her, she watched as Leshy plucked one an shoved it into his maw. “Mm, yeah they’re not as good as the ones from Darkwood but they do in a pinch.”

Leshy took a few more and popped them into his mouth before walking on…pausing when he had a fun idea pop into his mind.

—————————

Well they were feeling better after two servings of Camellia tea and rest, though Ewe was more concerned on where her youngest was…poor thing was so out of it she didn’t realize Leshy had left with their youngest, Sozo had left with the others to give them some time to properly rest. She trusts Leshy there wasn’t a question but she was just worried on how her little infant was getting along without-

She blinked….there in the doorway was…a tall figure…with little Barrett sitting atop of it, it looked like a creature- oh wait that was Leshy.

“I am here to steal your soul oh wicked creatures!~”

The Ewe blinked, her hand raised to cover the budding smile forming on her lips. Her beloveds were still asleep, she debated whether to wake them up to see this but decided against it as the ‘creature’ approached…but kept a slight distance.

“If you wish toooo be spaaaared you must give me cookies!~”

The moment the ‘creature’ lifted its baggy limbs and wiggled them the laughing started, it just looked so silly, the oversized rob, her little baby sitting on top of a slightly visible green head and a oddly familiar voice trying to sound scary coming from the inside of the robe.

The Ewe held back a giggle and leaned back against her pillow with a contented smile. “An what if I refuse oh ‘scary beast’?”

It was then the act was dropped as Leshy proceeded to take little Barrett off his head along with the oversized robe. “Awe so we can’t scam you out of any treats huh?”

“Nope.” Said the Ewe, she blinked watching as Leshy placed little Barrett in the handmade sling along his chest. “Leshy…whats that?”

“This? It’s something the other cult moms do, mostly out in the fields. When their picking the food they have the kids on their backs but sometimes when their resting they have the kids in front ya know?”

Ewe blinked. “Can you show me?”

“Sure….on a condition.” Leshy had an evil grin on his face, at first the Ewe felt weary but..she answered. “A…what would that condition be?”

“You gotta make Narinder and The Lamb carry the baby like this for a whole day, deal?” Well…Ewe wasn’t expecting ‘that’ for a condition but she smiled. Her beloved Lamb and Narinder wouldn’t say no to this.

“Alright.”

—————————

I hope you like it.

THIS - YOUU………… 🥺

THIS IS SO SWEET THE LITTLE DETAILS YOU INCLUDED FROM POSTS THAT I MADE LIKE OVER A MONTH AGO AAAAAAHHHHH 😭

Thank you so much - this took me so long to read cuz I kept reading over each paragraph multiple times before moving on!! 😂

I truly love this, I’m going to come back and read it again and again and again. Thank you again for taking the time to write this~! 💕✨

[storiesbyrhi]

Witch!Reader x Bat/Vampire!Eddie Munson Series Masterlist The Grimoire The Timeline

Warnings: canon typical violence, horror genre typical violence, swearing, no beta, warnings updated each chapter.

Synopsis: No witch has stepped foot in Hawkins since 1845, but when Vecna opens the ground and poisons the town, a voice begins to call to you. Have you been brought back to this cursed place to heal the townspeople’s wounds, to save a hexed bat that always finds its way to you, or to redefine your history with a reunion 150 years in the making?

Chapter Summary: When is a man, not a man?

1986

The elecampane was easy to find, but for the hawthorn less so. You had to spend the next day’s afternoon driving around Indiana looking for a store that might sell it. Eventually, a herbalist gave you the address of an off-the-grid botanist. They had all sorts of non-native species.

She had invited you into her house. “A witch is always welcome.”

You didn’t ask how she knew and she didn’t tell you. With hawthorn berries and spikes in hand, you drove back to Hawkins, arriving too late to cast any spell other than slumber. The bat would have to wait one more day.

The sun had barely begun to warm when the bat climbed onto your head and nipped at the tips of your ears. He wouldn’t be stopped, your attempts to swat him away failing.

“Alright, alright,” you said to him, sitting up. He flew circles around the room, then headed out the bedroom door and disappeared into the trailer.

The bat chittered at you as you started a fresh brew of coffee. “No,” you warned him, finger pointed like you were scolding a child. “Coffee first. Then witchcraft. They’re the rules.”

Coffee, a piece of toast, and you got to work.

“I’m kind of… winging it here,” you explained to the bat as you squashed hawthorn berries and elecampane petals with your mortar and pestle. “This has to have a healing base, because that’s where my strength is. And I’m going to try to tailor it to both animal and human… Since we don’t really know what you are.”

The bat had sat on your shoulder, his apparent favourite place.

“But we also need the magic to see the truth… In this case, the truth of what you are. Which is why we have these.” A small mirrored circular plate and a piece of sodalite.

“The hardest part is the spell itself, the words. But like Kelsey said, if our intention is set, then you know, we should be okay.” It was reassurance for the bat, but it helped you to say it out loud too, like a good luck omen.  

With the petals and berries, you mixed in a drop of witch’s blood harvested through the hawthorn plant’s sharpest thorn, some dried four-leaf-clovers for luck, moon water, honey, and some of the bat’s fur.

On the carpet of the trailer, you painted a devil’s trap. “Sorry,” you offered to the bat. “If this works too well, and it turns out you’re a demon that should not have been turned back, I need a safety net.”

At each point of the trap’s pentagram, you placed a candle. In the center, the small mirror. You took the potion and tinted the mirror’s surface, covering it entirely.

“You’re up,” you instructed. The bat glided down from his fridge-top perch onto the mirror. “Hold this.” His little claws curled around the sodalite.

You closed your eyes, focused your energy.

“Hear now the words of this witch,

secrets hidden in the night.

The oldest of Gods are evoked here;

the great work of magic is sought.

On this day and in this hour,

I call upon the ancient power.

The truth of this life is to be revealed,

And let the damage be healed.

So shall it be.”

You opened your eyes and gently pushed the bat backward off the mirror, but not out of the circle. As you wiped the potion off the surface, you repeated the final line of the spell twice more.

“So shall it be.

So shall it be.”

With trepidation, you closed your eyes again and in unsteady hands, you flipped the mirror so the bat’s image would be reflected at himself.

Only a second of silence, maybe less than, before a sharp and loud intake of breath forced your eyes open.

The bat was gone.

In his place, a man with pitch black eyes and wild waves of hair. He looked terrified. Disorientated.

You stared at each other and as you parted your lips to speak, his eyes darted to the door and he leaped for it.

“Wait!” you called after him. You followed him out the door but he was gone. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

He couldn’t have gone far, you figured. He was naked and the trailer park was still packed with people.

You ran up and down roads and weaved between RVs. There was not only no sign of him but no sign that anybody else had seen him either. The surrounding woods were quiet and still. It was like the man had vanished into thin air.

When your search failed, you took to your car and spent a second hour looking for him. The only thing keeping you from all out panic was the fact that the man was not a demon; he’d passed through the devil's trap easily. At least you’d not brought more death and destruction to the town of Hawkins.

As you drove back to Forest Hills, you considered calling Kelsey and telling her your spell had worked. There was a nagging thought in the back of your mind though. Small but itchy. Whatever happened to the bat and the man, it wasn’t over. The circle had not come full.

…

The first thing he felt was hunger. Agony. Then he bolted and the sunlight outside your trailer burned. He moved too quickly for anyone to see, but he didn’t go far. He crawled under the trailer through a path cleared by raccoons and other animals.

It was dark but not enough. He dug at the dirt with clawed fingers, pushing the soil until he could burrow in and curl up. Motionless for hours, he searched his mind for any sort of explanation or sense of identity. There was nothing.

He didn’t know who he was. What he was. Vaguely, where. The same place he’d watched for all those years. When he was different. Smaller.

When the sun fell low in the sky, an old opossum trotted under your trailer. The man, entirely still, could hear its heartbeat. He listened as the animal sniffed around, its hairs bristling at the smell of raccoons. The opossum didn’t know it had been grabbed. The man moved too fast, breaking its bones and ripping it open to slurp at the blood inside.

He’d not been that kind of bat. He scared himself, his eyes wide as he looked down at the carnage. After, he crawled back into his hole, fated to repeat the murder with any living thing that found its way under the trailer.

…

“What were you doing yesterday, running around like a chicken with its head cut off?”

One of your neighbours was particularly… observant. When you got up first thing in the morning the next day, you did another lap of the trailer park. Still, no signs of the man. Just signs of you going mad, apparently.

“My, ah, cat… got out. Was looking for him,”

“Your cat?”

“My cat,”

“Michelle know you got a cat?”

“I don’t. Anymore.”

There was a three second stare-off, then you went on your way.

All day, while you helped make sandwiches and organise donations at Hawkins High, you half expected the man to show up. You kept glancing at the open doors, trying not to feel disappointed when it was a regular citizen looking for help.

It had been weeks since Vecna had opened the ground. Most people had either been moved to hospitals across the state and beyond, or had their smaller injuries attended to already. It left you with less healing to do, but your help was still welcomed.

Hawkins was through the worst of it, according to most people. You had to admit, it was calm. Perhaps too calm. You felt a sense of impending doom. Vecna would not go down without a fight, and you doubted the fight could be hidden from the townspeople entirely.

Still, you said nothing and did nothing. Healing Erica had already seen you cross a line. Maybe Hawkins was in the eye of the storm, but you couldn’t be the one to sound the alarm.

…

Scratching. Gentle at first, then claws against glass causing high pitch noises that made your body physically cringe. Awake, you sat and looked around the dark room. What time was it? Scratching. Scratching. Window.

The bat was at the window.

“What the fuck?” You hurried out of bed and pushed the window up, letting the creature into your house. “Are you…” When you opened your palms, he landed on them. It was most definitely him. “Fuck! Okay… Okay… Fuck.”

…

1836

“Those are not your apples,” you stated.

The boy spun on the spot, his hair whipping around. It was rare for anyone to sneak up on him. He grinned, all teeth and menace.

“Are they yours?” he countered.

Not a boy, you noted. A man. Young, but old enough to know better.

“No,”

“Then I won’t tell if you don’t.” He tossed the apple up in the air, catching it with ease. He put it in a sack that sat at his feet. There were a lot of things in there that were not his.

“I do not agree to that.”

He picked up the sack and slung it over his shoulder, moving closer to you. You stood your ground, entirely unafraid. Up close, the moonlight reflected in his eyes, which were as dark as the night sky itself.

“Then name your price,” he said, head falling lopsided dramatically, playfully.

The man was beautiful. Maybe, in all your years of living, he was the most beautiful human you’d seen. There was something about him. It wasn’t just that his beauty was disarming. His long hair was not common for men of the era. His skin looked soft too, like he came from royalty rather than the families that tended to the fields and fought in the wars.

It was when he took one more step toward you that you both figured it out.

The man’s easy expression dropped, a suspicious and cruel looking one taking its place. He made a hiss-like sound and let go of the sack of stolen things. He crouched low to the ground.

“Witch,” he spat.

You held your reaction in with far more grace than him. “Are you alone?” you asked him, voice measured.

He did not answer.

“Or, are there more of you?”

You took a step closer to him and leaned down to pick up an apple that had rolled from the sack. You took a bite without breaking eye contact. He stayed frozen to the spot as you chewed slowly and swallowed.

“My name is Amabel,” you told him. “And this land is not mine, but nor is it yours. My coven has dominion here. Make no mistake, we will protect this land. We will protect every human on it.”

The man’s eyes narrowed at the mention of humans. He stood, sure you weren’t offering violence in that first meeting.

“What was your name before? And what will it be after Amabel?” It was not what you were expecting him to say. “Is that not what you do?” he continued. “Live among the humans, love them, watch them die, then start all over again?” You couldn’t tell if he was taunting you or genuinely asking. His tone was far more disarming than his beauty had been. “Do you not feel alone?”

Your lips parted and your eyes glassed over. He’d trapped you in a truth and to what end, you didn’t know.

A dog’s bark cut through the silence, and you briefly looked out beyond the apple orchard, then back. He was gone.

…

1986

“So shall it be.

So shall it be.

So shall it be.”

If the spell worked a second time, it would likely be of short-term effect yet again. You said as much to the bat, but as he returned on his own, you drew the conclusion he was still looking for help. The spell a second time was all you could offer immediately.

As you held the mirror up, eyes closed, you whispered, “Please don’t run. Please.”

All was silent. You were almost too scared to open your eyes, but you’d not heard the trailer door slam. He was still there.

You both searched each other’s eyes for recognition or explanation or anything even vaguely familiar. Perfect strangers, you thought. Imperfect circumstances.

“I’m sorry,” you told him, still whispering. “I’m sorry it didn’t… work… completely. I can figure this out.”

The man said nothing, tearing his gaze from you to look around the trailer. You watched him for a few seconds more before standing. The man flinched at the movement.

“It’s okay! It’s okay. I’m going to get you something to wear.”

You didn’t have a lot of spare clothes, but one of your old t-shirts would work, and some sweatpants that absolutely would not fit properly.

He was still sitting in the center of the devil’s trap when you walked back out from your bedroom. He took the clothes from your outstretched hands, and you hoped he knew what to do with them.

You turned to the kitchenette, pouring a glass of water with your back to him while he stood up and dressed.

You turned and held the glass out to him. He took it. He looked awkward, skittish. Very much like a bat turned human. Fascinated at his general weirdness, you watched him take a sip and hold the water in his mouth. He looked panicked, yet he swallowed. Almost immediately he started to cough, then he threw the water back up onto your kitchen floor.

“It’s okay,” you tried to reassure him. He was staring down at the liquid, brows pulled together.

In the two seconds it took to grab a cloth from the kitchen sink, the man was gone. The trailer door swung wide open.

You sighed but decided to not go after him. All in all, you considered what happened as progress.

…

The smell was putrid. It seemed both obscene and histrionic to have piled all the corpses in the middle of the road.

For two days in a row, dead raccoons, opossums, cats, and dogs had been found. They’d been attacked, but not really eaten. The residents and guests of Forest Hills were concerned. They were already dealing with so much, and now a rabid animal?

You stood with a few neighbours, watching Michelle boss around a couple of teenage boys, making them find all the corpses.

“Lot of them under your trailer,” she’d said, nodding at you.

“Under it?”

“Yep. Got it boarded up but the little bastards always find a way under there. Lot of room between the trailer and the ground. You don’t hear them?”

You shook your head.

Michelle shrugged. “I’ll get one of the boys to come patch the holes.”

When you’d conversed with neighbours about the horror of it all for an appropriate amount of time, you excused yourself and hurried to inspect your trailer. Around the back, behind some trash cans, you found the hole.

On your hands and knees, you peered into the crawl space. Sitting in the dirt and mud were some clothes. You didn’t need to go any further to know they were yours.

There was a word on the tip of your tongue but you didn’t dare speak it because it couldn’t be. It couldn’t be. He couldn’t be. He wasn’t a demon, but maybe…

No. No, they had been eradicated. The species itself extinct. You’d had a hand in it yourself. There was simply no way.

Back inside your trailer, you paced from the bedroom to the lounge and back again.

Why were you in Hawkins?

What had been calling you there?

A wounded creature?

An enemy in disguise?

Had it all been a trap? A trick. A rouse to bring back the only thing you’d ever truly feared.

You cycled through options. Call Kelsey. Automatic writing to seek guidance from The Witches Who Came Before. Bite the metaphorical bullet and tell your coven what exactly you had done. Run away from Hawkins and pretend none of it had happened.

Sitting on the couch you buried your face in your hands.

No. No, you would not run. You would stay on the path you'd chosen for yourself. You would see this thing through. If a group of children could fight an impossible battle somewhere in an Upside Down Hawkins, you could right this wrong. Whatever that meant.

End Note: Don't forget to visit the Grimoire and timeline! I am so excited to bring you to the 1836 events...

Fic Taglist: @kaitebugg03 @paranoidmunson @munsonsbait @idkidknemore @paprikaquinn @stardustworlds @loz-brooke @wyverntatty @vintagehellfire @dark-academia-slut @scarletwitchwhore @becks1002 @mrsdollardog @heyndrix @luceneraium @rosaline-black @devilinthepalemoonlite @goldencherriess @iamwhisperingstars @wiltedwonderland @blueywrites @breezybeesposts @jadehowlettthewolf @spikesvamp79 @foreveranexpatsposts @tortoiseshellspells @wingedpeachjudgegiant @stardustmunson @live-love-be-unique @fangirling-4-ever @reanimated-alice @b-irock @gh0stlybunnie @myown-worstenemy-2003 @woozzz @cyberxlust

All Eddie Taglist: @solomons-finest-rum @ruinedbythehobbit @sweetpeapod @thorfemmes  @corrodedhawkins @grungegrrrl @lilzabob  @averagemisfit03 @ches-86 @ilovecupcakesandtea @onehotgreasymechanic @hazydespair @mel-the-fangirl

[onekindredspirit]

Eagles - Revisited

(a train journey across Canada in the months before the pandemic)

For Maria

“I reckon they’re eagles!” That’s Tim. He’s excited. The dining car is full of people and it’s loud. For some reason, if you put a lot of humans into a confined space they will yell at each other. Around our table there’s Tim, he’s a retired London detective, there’s a teacher from Newfoundland, an Australian and me. We’re somewhere in the Rockies of Canada and Tim thinks he sees eagles. Tim also thinks I ‘know things’, so I’m not totally convinced about the eagles.

“Where?” That’s the Australian. Her accent is a brutal drawl, like the sawing of a blunt serrated knife across the back of the hand.

“There! They’re big birds.” He’s pointing, very excited now.

I can’t see anything but I decide I need to contribute something anyway, “But are they real?”

Retired London detectives don’t much care for nonsense.

“Of course they are!” Tim snaps back at me.

Perhaps coming to my defence, the Australian decides to take him down.

“They’re not eagles … I reckon they’re crows.”

Tim’s hurt “They are!” The level of his indignation easily exceeds the pointlessness of the conversation and so the farce begins.

I tune out. A mind is a wonderful place if you can tame it … but good luck with that.

Suddenly I’m brought back – “He ‘knows things’ you know.” Tim’s making a public declaration and all eyes are on me.

“Whadda ya mean?” The Australian is sceptical.

“He ‘knows things’ I tell you!” Tim is my biggest supporter.

“Like what?” The Australian picks up the scent.

Now Tim has to prove I ‘know things’ … I hope it doesn’t go to a Senate Committee.

“Well, he knew how old I was.”

It’s true.  Tim had asked me, “How old do you think I am?”

I didn’t hesitate - “71.” My immediate reply stunned him.

“How did you know that?”

“I just do.”

Magicians don’t show their audience the secrets of their tricks, do they? But okay, in a previous conversation Tim had told me the year he’d joined the ‘force’ and I had then enquired about his age on joining … mathematics is also a wonderful thing.

But the Australian isn’t going to accept this flimsy story as evidence of my “knowing things”. She wants more proof. I expected that. Their entire culture was built on a challenge to authority. So perhaps I do ‘know things’ after all.

“Okay, whadda ‘bout this?” the Australian begins. Now it’s the big test for me. I’m feeling fit, I’ve been in training for months and my fighting weight is perfect.

The Australian continues “We were at a talk last night, in the observation car, about agriculture in Alberta.”

Tim nods “It was good.” I love his optimism.

“You weren’t there were you?” The Australian would have done well during the McCarthy era communist ‘witch hunts’ of the 1950’s.

“No.” I almost laugh. Of course not, I was someplace else on the train, enjoying my somewhat tamed mind.

“Okay then, tell us … how much do you think a combined harvester costs?”

I don’t hesitate “Between $400,000 and $500,000.”

The look of disappointment on the Australian’s face is kind of funny. Tim, on the other hand, is gleeful to be proven right after suffering such a bad loss over the eagles.

“See, I told you!”

The Australian narrows her eyes. She smells a rat. “You were there weren’t you?”

“He wasn’t!” That’s Tim, he’s still my biggest supporter.

“No, I wasn’t there.” I confirm.

“Tell him!” Tim is going in for the kill.

“$450,000 ...” Her voice trails off. The Australian doesn’t like being wrong.

So the wonders appear to continue but there’s no mystery here either. I live in a rural community and I have an inquisitive mind. One day I had asked myself “I wonder what a combined harvester costs?” You’ve probably asked yourself the same question at one time or another.

For the rest of the journey I wear the aura of a man who ‘knows things’. It’s an enigmatic position to take in life. In part, you are ‘messiah’. You walk the corridors of the train surrounded by a spectral glow, robes flowing, your hands outstretched offering benedictions and people whisper “he ‘knows things’ you know.” On the other hand, being ‘messianic’ is a lonely business but I don’t mind, I have my somewhat tamed mind for company.

Of course I made the ‘messiah’ bit up. I have a wish that life could be just a little more absurd than it already is. In truth, only Tim thinks I know things. The Australian thinks she’s been tricked and everyone else on the train couldn’t care less, which is how I like it.

Later … days later our train pulls into Toronto. My hotel is only 100 metres from the station so I linger in the compartment, packing, dreaming.

When I finally get to the baggage carousel I’m surprised to see Tim. He has his back to me. There is a younger man with him and they have the body language of two people who know each other well. Both are English and it’s obvious the younger guy was also on the train, judging by the baggage labels on his luggage. But this is the first time I’ve seen them together, which I find strange.

Then Tim reacts. I presume the hairs on the back of his neck have suddenly stood on end because he turns. Maybe that’s how he became a detective in the first place – he has good instincts.

Tim recognizes me and completely fails to disguise the look of alarm in his eyes.

There’s something about the younger man … and then comes that feeling, like the fitting of the final piece in a jigsaw, and I understand.

We all have things we feel we need to hide. Mostly the world isn’t looking but if you happen to end up on a train with someone who ‘knows things’, it’s very hard to escape the truth … some people just ‘know things’.

Tim hurriedly looks away.

I’m sorry to have unsettled him and all I really want to say now is “Tim, eagles are real”.

- One Kindred Spirit

[saphirered]

for the prompts list - cinnamon sweet with Lucien please and thank you :)

Here you go! Loads of fluff and Lucien being Lucien so I hope you like it! 😘

It’s that time of the year Lucien would love to forget all together. The leaves have turned and fallen, the harvests have passed and all is in a slow state of decay. To think he once lived in a perpetual state of autumn seems a different life altogether, and one he would prefer to keep dead and buried. He’s really grown to hate autumn with a passion and he truly can’t wait until winter comes creeping in. At least frozen wastes haunting shadows bring more comfort than what he endured. Yet here you are, wrapped in your knits, wrapped him in them too, excited for the yellows and reds and oranges, the smell of autumn at its peak, the fresh harvests and festivals that accompany it. Here you are loving everything he’s avoided for so long. He doesn’t have the heart to tell you. If anything he hopes that perhaps through you he can endure and grow to like the season again and not feel like he slips into depression every time he spirals into those dark memories. It’s not your fault and he doesn’t want to spoil your fun. Maybe you can teach him how to love the autumn glow once more. 

“Remind me again why you insist in being here, outside in the cold when we could be warm and cozy inside by the hearth instead?” Lucien asks when you sit him down on the wooden bench in the garden. The majority has wilted, or been prepared to endure the coming winter, and while somewhat eery it is still beautiful in its own way. The wind blows the remaining leaves from the trees bit by bit casting a blanket upon the ground making it impossible to distinguish path from grass and unmarked flowerbeds. You hold two ceramic mugs in your hands when you take a seat next to him. Though your proximity does not quite transfer heat, he still feels warmer with you there. 

“Because, my dear Lucien, I want you to experience this properly.” He raises a questioning eyebrow but you are persistent and push the mugs into his hands. Completely at a loss of what to do with them he holds them. The contents seem to be milk. Just milk. He expected something like a tea maybe but the mugs are cold. 

“What now?” He asks when you look at him as if he’s supposed to know what to do now. 

“I need you to heat them up.” You chirp excitedly. A soft smile graces his lips but quickly turns cocky as it often does. 

“Glad to know you keep me around as your personal heater and servant. Shall it be steaming, boiling or evaporated, my dearest?” You cross your arms. Normally he would flick your nose playfully when you puff but he’s half sure you’ll kill him if he drops this mug so he refrains and instead pecks your nose and does as he’s told. Your crossed arms slack and the flush to your cheeks certainly isn’t because of the cold air.

“You have plenty of other uses too.” You tease back reaching for the box you’d brought. He’s not entirely sure how you managed to carry this all. You open the box and inside reveals two chocolate orbs. “I know you like hot chocolate but this one’s special.” You gently drop the orbs in the steaming hot milk each. Slowly but surely the chocolate begins to melt and inside, fluffy little clouds emerge floating on the surface. Lucien looks confused. 

“Dare I ask what this poison is you’re trying to feed me?” 

“They’re marshmallows. They happen to go very well with hot chocolate but there’s one more secret ingredient-“ You reach into your pocket and take the vial you’d stolen from the pantry. 

“Unconditional love and affection?” Lucien interrupts but you don’t miss a beat.

“-two more secret ingredients.” You correct yourself at his quip much to his amusement. You remove the lid from the vial of brown powder. Carefully you sprinkle a modest amount on top. When you do he catches on. Cinnamon. Curious. 

“So you are trying to cover the smell and taste of poison.” You take one of the mugs from him and clasp  it between your hands, cold fingers instantly warming. You scoff and roll your eyes. 

“While poison is poetic I think a dagger through the heart after a passionate night is far more.” You deadpan taking a sip. Lucien shrugs in agreement. 

“A satisfying end to be sure.” You snort and cough as your nose burns. The amusement in Lucien’s eyes is replaced by concern until you assure him you’re alright. “I think you might have mixed up the poisoned mug, love.” He pats your back as you recover and when you do he simply rubs circles allowing his hand to warm you and offer some relief. 

“One way to find out.” Your voice is still hoarse but you’re alright and take another sip of your drink. Finally he takes his first sip. Closely you study his reaction. First it is intrigue; the way he does a double-take, then a hint of confusion trying to figure out his senses. Next comes consideration. A raised eyebrow as he takes a second sip. Then his shoulders relax and he leans back on the bench. He nods to himself and takes another big sip when he notices you staring. 

“I take it you like it then?” You ask gingerly. He smiles and nods. 

“It reminds me of you so yes.” 

“How so?”

“You remind me of sweet things and cinnamon.” The flush to your cheeks darken. Cute. Of course he has to ruin the moment. Can’t let it get to your head. “You taste like it too.” This time you’re prepared though, unfazed you take another sip, rise to your feet and take a few steps away from him. You look over your shoulder, look him straight in the eye in a way that dares him to move. He knows he’s in trouble. 

“Let’s keep it a special treat then. Wouldn’t want you to get sick of the taste.” Now it’s his time to choke on the sip he took. Not what he was expecting, and certainly not the sultry expression on your face as you sway your hips through the invisible garden path and back to the porch, one there you take one last sip, looking at him over the edge of your mug. You step inside leaving the door open behind you. Lucien does not need to be told twice. He downs the cinnamon hot chocolate, the taste lingering on his tongue and follows your tracks inside.

[heliads]

REQUESTS OPEN OMG EVERYONE CHEERED. hi i was thinking.. what if… hmm.. what if.. guardian angel y/n x connor lassiter where in unwind instead of lev saving him after the happy jack explosion its y/n. (they kiss at the end PLEase)

ANYWAYS ILY u survived exams i’m so proud !

'angel ex machina ' - connor lassiter

masterlist

They find Connor Lassiter staring at a billboard. He’s slumped against a wall, eyes hollow and vacant, like nothing in this world could possibly be more fascinating than a couple hundred square feet of boastful advertising. The bright colors seem to laugh at him, tantalizingly out of reach from where he crouches now, separated from the rest of the world by the walls of a harvest camp.

We have guardian angels! Low prices, high protection! 

Even if Connor somehow managed to piece together enough cash for their exorbitant prices, it’s obvious that a guardian angel would be wasted on him. Connor is days away from his own unwinding. Not even a real guardian angel could pull him out now, let alone the vapid models in suits they’ve got bedazzling that billboard. Everyone knows you can’t actually hire a guardian angel. They just show up somehow, save your ass however many times you need it, then disappear. There, then gone. Intrinsically a part of your life, and then it’s like you’d never known them at all.

Guardian angels are extraordinarily rare. The closest Connor’s ever come to meeting one is hearing a story his dad used to tell, and even then, Kirk Lassiter had only briefly glimpsed one of his neighbors getting saved from a car accident by one of the angels. Not exactly a core memory for Connor. His mom had never seen one at all.

That’s the way it usually goes. There aren’t that many guardian angels in the world. Rare things, they are. Somehow, they decide that a person is important enough to save, and then they swoop in and do what they do best. That’s usually saving them from disasters– floods, tornadoes, you name it. There’s an iconic photograph of a guardian angel rescuing someone from a burning building that Connor sees annually in his textbooks; something about the wings silhouetted against the flames is irresistible to school publishers. Hayden swears that he heard about somebody who got a guardian angel to do their taxes, but Connor figures that’s another of the boy’s bad jokes. Guardian angels are for real problems, not tax fraud.

Hell, no one even knows what guardian angels look like. There are photographs, sure, but they always turn out strangely blurry, like when the sun’s too bright outside and all you can do is squint. Even the people who’ve seen guardian angels say that their memories faded oddly quickly after the incident. No one can decide if they look like people, if their wings always appear, if they’re even recognizable as guardian angels at all. The only thing the masses can agree on is that guardian angels do exist, and they’ll never be good enough for anyone.

Least of all Connor. He’s harbored a hope that he’d get to meet one at some point, obviously, everyone has. Imagining that you’d be important enough to warrant an angel sent to watch over you is everyone’s secret fantasy.

Connor’s a few hours away from getting unwound, though, so he’s pretty sure that dream will die like the rest of his:  unwanted, unclaimed, unfulfilled. He’ll go to pieces as yet another boy who dreamed of being great, another poor soul ignored by the angels. The only difference is that, unlike most of the teenage population, he’s not even mediocre enough to live past sixteen. He’ll be in parts by tomorrow. Then, who knows? Maybe his elbow will go to a kid worthy of an angel. Connor wasn’t, but maybe his unwound pieces will be.

Connor shakes his head slightly to rid himself of the thoughts. He’s not usually like this. He’s not a quitter. He’ll go under the knife protesting his unwinding. It’s just a little difficult to keep up the fighting spirit when he knows that at last, despite all his running and hiding, he’ll be unwound anyway. There’s no fighting the Juvenile Authority. All his great efforts just delayed the inevitable. It cuts him to say it, but it looks like they were right after all.

In an attempt to get his mind out of obviously dangerous waters, Connor rips his gaze away from the offending billboard and glances around him. Only now does he notice another future unwind drawing close to him. Connor stretches and stands, forcing the corners of his mouth to upturn slightly so Y/N, his closest friend here and only ally among the cops and lambs to slaughter, don’t think he’s totally deranged.

“What are you doing?” Y/N asks, coming to a stop by his side.

Connor shrugs listlessly. “Nothing. Drafting my will.”

With anyone else, he’d probably stay silent, but Connor learned a long time ago that trying to hold his tongue around Y/N L/N is a losing game. They met in the basement of Sonia’s antique shop, Y/N having arrived barely a few minutes after Connor and Risa. Talk about a coincidence. They quickly hit it off, and as proof of their friendship, they’ve even ended up at the same harvest camp after it all went south back at the Graveyard.

If Connor were trapped with anyone, though, he’s glad it’s them. Not even Hayden can make Connor laugh as much as he does with Y/N. They understand him in a way that no one else ever has. If he were feeling particularly stupid, he would call it love, but Connor knows better. They’re both about to get stripped to pieces. If he spills his guts now and they friendzone him, Connor will have ruined the best part of his life for nothing.

So he stays silent, and watches Y/N laugh at his joke. “I want your car after they unwind you,” they inform him. “Maybe even the house.”

Connor pretends to be outraged. “Both? That’s absurd.”

Y/N snorts. “Who else would you give them to? The tithe?” Then, in a quieter voice, they glance towards the billboard Connor was staring at, and add on, “Maybe an angel?”

Connor sighs. “They can’t sell real guardian angels. No amount of flashy billboards can hide that.”

Y/N nods. “You’re still tempted, though?”

Connor lifts a shoulder. “Who wouldn’t be tempted? The idea is great. I’d love for someone to save me right now. Or maybe just care enough to try.”

“I care,” Y/N offers.

Connor gives them a wry smile. “I know you do. But you’re stuck in the same mess as I am, so maybe I’ll hold off on believing in your escape plan until you’re out, too.”

Y/N looks at him for a second, too deep for Connor to understand, then cracks a grin. “You should believe in me, Lassiter. I’m tunneling out from under the dorms with just a spoon. I might make it halfway to Florida by the time we get the unwind order.”

Connor scoffs. “That only works in movies. You’d need a miracle to break through an inch of concrete, let alone all the way past the borders.”

Y/N smiles at him, a little secretively, a little knowingly. “I’m pretty good with miracles.”

“Sure you are,” Connor says, stretching his arms to rid himself of an unpleasant pinch in his muscles. “Any chance you can whip one up to save me from my impending doom?”

He isn’t expecting Y/N to respond, obviously, but when their face drops at the sight of something approaching behind him, Connor knows it’s not just from his lack of belief. “I’d have to make it quick, wouldn’t I?” They mutter under their breath.

Connor turns around to see a squad of Juvey-cops bearing down on him. He swears under his breath. “This is it, right? They’re going to take me away?”

Y/N’s face looks ashen and wrong. “I should have saved you. “

“We should have saved each other,” Connor corrects gently. Usually, he isn’t the sentimental type, but as the guards get closer, he can’t resist the urge to lean closer to Y/N and whisper to them, “Hey, I’m glad for the time we had, alright? It meant– It meant a lot to me. You know. If I was going to talk to anyone on my last day, I would have wanted it to be you anyway.”

Y/N sucks in a breath. “Don’t say that.”

Connor stares at them. “Why not? It’s true.”

Y/N looks like they want to argue– why, Connor isn’t sure, but the guilt in their eyes is like nothing he’s ever seen before– but before they can say a word, the Juvey-cops close in around him, cutting Connor off from Y/N like slamming a door in their face. They give him the usual speech about how it’s time for him to be unwound, but Connor can’t find it within himself to pay attention. It’s so typical of him, honestly, to be zoning out during what may be his last hour whole, but all he can think about is Y/N, who disappears into the distance as the cops drag him away, Y/N, who he’s now left here alone, Y/N, who will join him in this fate not long from now.

Connor doesn’t want to be unwound. Obviously. He doesn’t want this, and the sheer force of his not wanting overwhelms him as they lead him closer and closer to the doors of the Chop Shop. A crowd of other unwinds has gathered by the door; apparently the final moments of the Akron AWOL make for some good entertainment. The band is playing. Connor wants to run, run far and fast like he always does, but for the first time in his life he realizes how pointless it is. If he tried to flee, they would catch him. They would drag him back, and it would be like nothing ever happened. There is no way this day ends with anything but Connor in pieces.

Connor forces his legs to move him mechanically towards the Chop Shop entrance. Just before the darkness of the place swallows him whole, something tells Connor to glance over his shoulder one last time and he sees Y/N staring at him beseechingly. He doesn’t know how he’s able to spot them so easily in the crowd, but he can. Like he would know them anywhere. Like doing anything but looking at them is impossible.

Then the guards shove him into the Chop Shop, and Y/N is gone, replaced by the dark certainty of Connor’s unwinding. The hallway seems to stretch out forever, but before Connor can take even one more step, a few very confusing things happen all at once.

First:  there’s this shift in the air. Connor can’t describe it. It feels strange and wrong, burning on his tongue like electricity. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and Connor knows at once that something is about to go wrong.

Second:  the room erupts in fire and smoke. The bone-rattling boom of the explosion comes later, a little delayed, but Connor sees the white flash of heat and light first. He’s knocked off of his feet, and time seems to slow down. The entire world is gone, replaced only by Connor, floating hazily through the smoky air, and the blossom of fire around him, searing off everything else.

Third, and most confusing of all:  out of nowhere, Y/N is right in front of him. Y/N, yes, but Y/N different somehow. It takes him a moment to realize why. Their eyes glow white, brighter even than the explosion, and their skin is radiating off this cool, pearlescent light. He has no idea how they could have possibly gotten in front of him so fast. He has no idea how they’re seemingly immune to the heat and force of the explosion around them.

Y/N reaches for him, pulling Connor into their arms. Their head presses against his, and they whisper quietly, forcefully, “Be safe, Connor.”

The command reverberates through Connor’s entire body. He doesn’t even remember hitting the ground, and when the explosion clears, he’s– He’s fine, actually. Nothing hurts. When Connor stares at his body, he’s utterly unharmed. Not even a scratch on his skin. He is totally untouched by the explosion that has just decimated the entirety of the Chop Shop.

Connor looks around him and realizes that Y/N is sitting in front of him. They’re both on the grass outside the Chop Shop, although he doesn’t remember getting there. Y/N is unharmed also, although Connor can say for certainty that there is still something wrong about them. It takes him a moment to get his scattered thoughts in order, and then he remembers. Y/N’s eyes wink pearlescent at him from a few paces away, and he knows.

“You’re a guardian angel,” Connor stammers out.

Y/N nods. “I am.”

Easy as that. They say it like it’s nothing. Like Connor hasn’t just had his life saved by a supernatural being currently sitting criss-cross applesauce in front of him on the waving grass. He’s had a lot of time to wonder what it would be like to meet a guardian angel, but it never would have occurred to him that one would have been in his life this entire time without him knowing.

Connor stares unseeingly at them. Try as he might, he can’t force himself to believe that Y/N is anything other than, well, Y/N. His friend. His best friend. The person he’s been crushing on since they stumbled into him by accident in the dark of Sonia’s basement. He remembers the flighty beat of their heartbeat when they were in his arms then, and he remembers what it felt like when they embraced him again in the smothering heat of the Chop Shop inferno. All Y/N. All an angel.

“You were trying to save me,” he begins, then stops. That really sums it up.

“I was,” Y/N agrees. “It was always about you, Connor.”

The idea doesn’t compute to him. “Then why wait until now to save my life? Why not make sure the Juveys never found us out in the first place?”

Y/N tilts their head to the side, considering this. “The job of a guardian angel is to save their primary assignment, sure, but also to minimize suffering wherever they go. I knew the Chop Shop explosion would happen if I didn’t save you. This needed to happen so everyone else here could be rescued. Worse things would have happened if I didn’t interfere now. It may not seem that way, but it is.”

Connor can practically feel gears in his head spinning. “So you knew how this would end the whole time?”

“I knew the great catastrophes of your life,” Y/N corrects. “I knew many paths you could take. This was the big risk, though. I didn’t get to see any more after that. Now I know just as much about your future as you do.”

Connor whistles under his breath. “That’s comforting.” Then, a terrible thought occurs to him. “Wait, that means I was your assignment. Like a job? Were you ever really my friend at all, or was that just something you had to do to complete your assignment?”

Y/N rears back as if hurt. “I have always been your friend. Guardian angels aren’t supposed to ever reveal themselves. I was actually meant to never talk to you until I saved you.”

“What changed?” Connor asks. He can’t stop himself.

Y/N smiles softly. “I saw you. You looked like someone fun.”

“Someone fun,” Connor echoes. He tries to think about his life, if anyone could see that and decide he was someone worthwhile. Someone fun. Someone an angel could watch and want to befriend. A warm feeling blossoms in his chest. Pride, maybe. Or the realization that the one secret he’s been keeping may go both ways after all.

“Yeah,” Y/N says, growing a little embarrassed. “I like you. My bad.”

Connor laughs. “That’s not bad. I like you too, by the way. In case you didn’t see it when you were receiving visions about my life.”

Y/N’s eyes dart up to his. “Really?”

“Really,” Connor says. “What, you didn’t know?”

Y/N shakes their head. “Like I said, I could only see what happened to you up to the Chop Shop exploding. Everything after that is a mystery.”

“Well,” Connor says, drawing closer to them. “I’m glad I get to surprise an angel once in my life.”

Before Y/N can ask him what he means, Connor kisses them, and after a moment of shock, they kiss him back. He’s not sure if he’s the first person in the world to have kissed an angel before, but he wouldn’t mind having that accolade under his belt. Just so long as he gets to be the person to kiss an angel two times, or three. Or forever.

requested by @julysn, i hope you enjoy!

unwind tag list: @reinekes-fox, @locke-writes, @sirofreak

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[eywaseclipse]

What They Smell Like

Jake: 

back on Earth he grew accustomed to the many scents of ongoing pollution; so one of the ways to help cover up the pungent odors was with Axe body spray 

Now Na’vi he wears his natural musky scent, deeply earthy, like freshly fallen rain

He enjoys his bathing rituals on Pandora due to the rich minerals in the waters, doing wonders for the hair and skin 

He smells quite fresh usually, unless busy with Olo’eyktan duties so he freshens up

His kids have no problem teasing him to tell him he stinks (even though he doesn’t. They’re just being kids) 

Neytiri: 

she favors the floral scents, having been apprenticing under her mother for many years now she makes her own salves, tonics, body oils and perfumes 

mostly consisting of Kllpxiwll (lionberry) Paywll (an aloe like plant), and sometimes banana fruit from eating it

The scents she wears she writes down for kiri because of her interest in flora and fauna as well 

Neteyam: 

it’s no secret the eldest sully is well kept and put together physically, but he also takes great pride in his personal hygiene and care 

usually smelling like fresh white musk, and Tumpasuk (red-orange berry) he smells sweet and earthy 

learning to press oils together for his braids, he opts for the Tumpasuk as its potent serum helps to maintain a healthy scalp and shine 

he and Lo’ak have seen the lab guys use human hygiene products like shampoo, cologne and soap that he sometimes see Lo’ak use 

he was given some old cologne from norm that he took a liking to called “dolce& gabbana light blue” although he can’t pronounce it, it smells incredible 

Lo’ak: 

usually out in the forest causing trouble with spider, he’s adapted to more loose hygiene ways, until spider and him went to the lab to see all the human things that spider has to use when he goes back to the base at the end of the day

Lo’ak took a liking to one of the guys’ axe body spray but spider made him throw it out because “only douchebags wear that”

his fascination with sky people objects has him opting for more chemistry related smells  like old spice 

his way of smelling clean is now carrying old spice deodorant wherever he goes because he’s paranoid of stinking 

Tuk: 

Tuk absolutely adores her siblings and does her best to mimic them in many ways 

she has taken a liking to both the healing ways of her grandmother and some of the human products 

she loves the scientists who constantly give her packs of Hubba Bubba Bubblegum so she usually has a pack of it on her at all times 

she smells sweet like bubblegum from her endless supply, and the Healing Rose oil Neytiri made for her to put in her growing braids and to moisturize her skin 

Lo’ak has on occasion brought back a green apple scent 3 in 1 body wash she liked when they visited the lab too 

Kiri:

constantly exploring the forest and learning of the healing properties from her grandmother she has mastered the art of making her own shampoos, body exfoliants, balms, and cold pressed oils 

she spends much time in the grass, smelling fresh like rainfall and sweet like the flowers around her 

one of her favorite plants is the Lily Pad Tree, the leaves produce a sweet smelling flower she presses into oils and perfumes, along with the citrusy smell of the Pineapple Plant 

her favorite pastime is making shampoos and cold pressed oils for her friends and family as gifts 

Bonus! my oc Tani: 

it’s no secret the lifestyle of an aspiring hunter like herself is rigorous and action packed, but on her down time she thoroughly enjoys spending time with Kiri learning how to make the products from scratch like balms, salves and even body butters 

her favorite scent is a combination of Kllpxiwll (lionberry), musk, and the spicy smelling nectar from the Txumpaywll (Scorpion Thistle) although a deadly carnivorous plant, the nectar can be harvested and used for eating and making natural perfumes, pressed oils and more 

she takes pride in changing her braids every month, using handmade shampoos and oils to keep her hair and scalp healthy; usually using the Healing Rose oil Kiri and Neytiri make together for her

her favorite fruit is the banana fruit, which has a thick calcium rich skin that can be ground and mixed into a rich body butter one of her coveted  products 

felt like dropping this as a little treat:) as a thank you for following me and reading my work. all flora and fauna mentioned are real plants that are on avatar wiki. I have take some artistic licenses with their uses and such. but it's actually 95% canon.

[headingalaxys-spicy]

I don't know if you're ask box is currently open, I couldn't really tell but I really like your yandere alpha asks and I was wondering if you could do either 2p England or 1p America, please 🥺

I think I did 1p America as an Alpha at one point so I’ll do 2p England also this post will be kinda spicy and mention gore because ya know it’s OLIVER. So read at your own risk.

⭐️🌟⭐️🌟 Enjoy🌟⭐️🌟⭐️

He eats Betas because to him they’re a versatile meat he can use when he cooks. Their blood is reserved for his teas, cakes, and soup thickener / base. He refrains from eating Omegas since the poor weak things already have a difficult time within society. They’re lower class and depending on that and the range of skills they have, looks, birth are just a few factors that contribute to one’s overall quality of life. Plus Oliver an Omegas blood is only tasty if it’s someone he’s bonded to. He will only hunt down an Alpha if he’s assigned to do so by his boss.

He’s 100% will control how his S/O will look at all times. He’s got coordinated couples outfits: sleepwear, tea-party, casual walk in the park, you name it he has an outfit for it. And yes, you better believe that it’s pink with maybe a few blue pieces here and there.

You have to be able to maneuver yourself through a ground caked in glass shards, discarded needles, and murder weapons most of which a pills or knives. What I mean by this is you have to be able to read his mood shifts. It can help you formulate sentences that won’t leave you chained to a wall or a chair for an evening. One way to see his mood shifts is that his eyes will flicker with colors. But if they turn blood red or they’re simultaneously blue and pink… that's the sign to RUN. Other colors along with the intensity and duration are other things you’d want to look out for. It aids you in dictating the severity of how he took what you said or did . So plan accordingly when you speak to him. It’s like trying to navigate a rabid mind field .

It take him about a month of obsessing over you for him to finally make his feelings known to you. He’ll intentionally sit next to you at meetings, just happen to be at the same brunch spot as you, and know exactly what to bring when it comes to your beverage you’d want from the local coffee shop. But be warned that the coffee he brings you has low dosage magic pills he’s concocted. They make you think of him more often and even have lucid dreams with him. It’s one that he will harvest for future dreams he can savor in his spare time before you decides to ensnare you. Not to mention that your psyche is no longer safe and will belong to him.

It’s 1000% too late when pastel sugary treats appear at your place of work and implores you to have tea with him. It will instruct that you wear the outfit that has been provided date and time plus he even arranges for a ride to come and fetch you on the day of. Depending on if you say yes or no to this will dictate how he treats you from there.

If you say yes

Things will be easier in the beginning. Oliver will be the kindest alpha to you albeit the staring he does at you is off putting when you go on your first date with him. “Oh poppet you’re simply just too cute not to stare at!”

He already formulated a magical contract if you seem hesitant to continue to move forward with a relationship with him. Oliver will do his best to highlight only the positives that you’ll benefit from if you become his. Things like never having to cook, spill some of his magical secrets to you and raising your overall socioeconomic status. You’ll want for nothing more. The catch will be that your freedom to do anything without him or one of his trusted magical beings hovering over you 24/7. The spells he offers are all superficial illusions and other basic things like levitation of small items etc. (Oliver is smart enough to know to not teach you anything that could give you ideas about escape or leaving him)

If you say no

You’ll be relieved when you find that he decides to be absent for a few weeks after you reject him. But that is only the calm before the storm because Oliver is PISSED that you’d dare to reject him. He’s been at home prepping a perfume that has his musk and a potion that was designed just for you. He crafts a bottle that is beautiful and can draw any eye in and masks it as one of your own bottles. Both his musk and the potion together make a poignant concoction. You will put it on the following day after it’s completion and you’ll be unaware of what’s happened to you once it hits your nostrils. You’ll be knocked out instantly. Oliver’s friends from the darkness will drag you right to him and you’ll be slapped right into having a tense conversation with him on how dare you deny him what he deserves. Oliver’s teeth will be showcased a lot through it. He wants to mark you with his hungry teeth so no one can tell him that you don’t belong to him.

He’s also going to be putting a ton of aphrodisiacs in all of what you’ll consume that night. Right down to the water you drink. You’re going to be horny out of your mind so much so that Oliver won’t be able to handle it either and he will also have to drug himself in order to keep up although he’s amazed that you are able to milk him dry. It’s highly likely he will form a knot with you on the first night.

During Rut

Oh god he’s frantic as hell and kinda helpless when he’s in rut. He will dote on you and be subtle (kinda … not really) about how much he needs tender loving. Oliver will do things he thinks are sexy but it’s either wow that’s creepy or pfffffft please calm down.

Examples:

The slightest bits of affection in terms of physical touch will make him orgasm.

When he cuddles you on the couch, you touch your foot to his under the table at tea, or if he does something as simple as kissing your hand. His face is red, he’s totally holding back a guttural moan, and his pants are tighter than they should be. So he either is trying to have sex with you for longer periods or he’s running around like a confused bat out of hell who doesn’t know what do do when they have a crush and a majorly excited. Or on the very rare occasion he’ll lock himself in his study with some suppressants and wait it out.

He’ll want to stare at you for a good 20 minutes or so before he has his way with you. Sometimes he does this while playing with a knife or making a new brew.

Or he will draw out some of your blood and he will have you watch him make a special tea with it. This according to him helps him last long while he rams himself into you.

He can be cute when he preps an entire spread of sweets for you to try (some may or may not have a poor unfortunate soul within them.) as a sweet yet intimate way to get you into bed. This normally only happens at night when the moon is full and completed with saccharine candles that put your mind at ease.

[teecupangel]

What if the assassins ended up in Far Cry 5?

It would be so chaotic if this was the whole ‘canon Assassins gets booted into Far Cry 5’. Those poor ‘kids’ wouldn’t have the time to actually get used to present day tech because Project at Eden’s Gate would be all over them so for this one, we’ll go for modern day versions of the Assassins getting thrown into Far Cry 5.

Now, the next problem would be how this would work considering the Brotherhood would prefer to send in a small group for missions (if it isn’t a solo mission) so if we consider the Assassins of the main game alone (not counting Chronicles, movie and other forms of media), we’re still left with 9 Assassins.

And, because it’s me, we’re adding Desmond into this so that would be 10 Assassins traveling into Hope County during the whole… cult thing.

So we’ll make this a bit… easier for us.

It’s meant to be a simple search and retrieve operation. William Miles got a tip that his runaway son was in Hope County. That was the official mission brief.

The unofficial mission brief is that the tip said Desmond Miles is part of the cult ‘Project at Eden’s Gate’ which complicated things.

It was meant to be a secret mission under Edward Kenway with Altaïr, Ezio and Ratonhnhaké:ton being his ‘field agents’ but someone tattled (it was Basim, Basim definitely tattled) and Bayek heard about the mission, taking his apprentices, Arno, Jacob and Evie with them because Bayek believed they’re too close to Desmond Miles to look at this objectively.

If Desmond Miles is part of the cult then the cult would be dangerous even for Master Assassins such as them.

Not to mention, Desmond Miles was their childhood friend and Edward Kenway’s godchild so they were pretty much compromised from the start.

Altaïr, Ezio and Ratonhnhaké:ton are ordered to secure their escape route while Bayek’s team find Desmond Miles. Edward and Basim stay in their ‘mission control’ van.

They’d picked the time the cops are taking Joseph Seed in custody so that people were focused on another thing and Bayek and his team are deep into the compound looking for Desmond Miles when Ezio contacts them.

“We found Desmond!”

“Ezio, I told you three to stay put and secure our exit.”

“He’s with the cops! Desmond’s- shit! Desmond!”

By the time Bayek and his team return to the van, they find Edward Kenway knocked out. When he comes to, he tells them Basim knocked him out for some reason and Basim has gone MIA.

The three Assassins are not responding to their comms and they fear the worst.

But Edward did know what Ezio was trying to tell them before everything went to shit.

Desmond wasn’t part of Joseph Seed’s cult.

He was the junior deputy that had cuffed Joseph Seed.

Altaïr, Ezio and Ratonhnhaké:ton recognized him when he went inside the chopper with Joseph Seed. By that point, it was too late and they watched in horror as the cultists sacrificed themselves to bring down the helicopter.

The last thing Edward heard is that they’re on their way to find Desmond.

Unorganized Notes:

Sooooo… there’s three (four if you count Basim) main POVs in this one. Desmond taking over the role of the Junior Deputy main character of Far Cry 5, Altaïr-Ezio-Ratonhnhaké:ton team’s POV of trying to find Desmond, always a step behind him, and Bayek-Arno-Evie-Jacob-Edward trying to find Desmond and the other three.

The cult being named Project at Eden’s Gate is too much to pass so the cult is related to the Isus in some way. To be more exact: the plant Bliss which the drug is derived from is actually an Isu experimental plant that is meant to ‘copy’ the powers of the Apple. It was developed during the Human-Isu war as a way to control the remaining human slaves and make them into cannon fodders who would do everything for the Isus. It was never finished but the cult managed to harvest and use it for their benefit.

This means that Bliss barely works on Desmond. Altaïr, Ezio and Ratonhnhaké:ton also has higher than normal resistance to it. The rest though? Yeah, good luck.

Joseph Seed is very much interested in Desmond. He does not say why though. He does call Desmond ‘angel’ more than once, pinging Desmond’s ‘uncle bad touch’ radar. Faith though calls him ‘an angel shackled in a mortal body’ which… might hint on what Joseph actually meant.

Basim didn’t necessarily betray them. He is, unfortunately, Loki’s Sage and he knows more than he’s letting on. To be more exact, his objective is the complete eradication of the Bliss plant. Or, as he called it, “a grieving wife’s final punishment”. It’s later revealed that Bliss was engineered to have ‘Isu’ DNA. To be more exact, the Isu DNAs of Nari and Váli. Basim is actually heavily affected by Bliss and it’s hinted that he actually got hit by it (airborne?) at some point and his actions are done while under the influence of Bliss (which is… a nightmare to him)

(I got sidetracked into making the Isu related plot. Anyway, the main point in this one is the Assassins have their work cut out for them just trying to find Desmond who doesn’t even know they’re looking for him. Oh, and each of them have a specific Fangs for Hire. Desmond gets Boomer, The Altaïr Ezio Ratonhnhaké:ton team gets Cheeseburger. The Bayek Arno Jacob Evie Edward team gets Peaches)