#this has been floating around in my brain since my post last week

[the-badger-mole]

The Lost Girls

A transcription of episode 1009 of the true crime podcast, Mysterious Happenings hosted by Shawna Martin and Kennedy Faulk. Episode originally posted on the Mysterious Happenings website on August 21, 2019. As transcribed by Badger-Mole Transcription, Ltd, ca. 2025

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Hey, everyone! I'm Shawna!

And I'm Kennedy, and you're listening to-

*Mysterious Happenings!*

On today's episode, we're covering one of the scariest stories I've ever heard! Kennedy, do you remember all the way back to the year 2008?

Ouch! way to make me feel old. That's the year I finished grad school.

Do you remember the story that was all over the news about the Duarte family in {static static}, Maine?

Did I mention that was the year I finished grad school?

Oh, well get ready for a wild ride of a story. The Duarte family moved to Maine in the fall of 2000. By all accounts they were a loving family and heavily involved in the Renaissance Fair circuit.

I love the Renn Fair!

Same! I used to go all the time.

Then this case is right up your alley. The Duarte family were mom Eva and dad Justin with their three young daughters, Vivienne born 1999, and twins Taryn and Jude, born in 2001.

And this happened in 2008? Oh! They were babies! I hate it already!

Not a whole lot is known about Eva Duarte. She was born near Cabot Cove, Maine in 1976. She bounced around from foster home to foster home between the ages of 10 and 18, when she began traveling the country doing odd jobs. In 1996, her travels brought her back to Maine for the Pineapple Slice Music festival.

Shut up! Pineapple Slice? I was there! I think I was 15 or 16. I saw Whayle perform three times. There was some wild stuff happening there. This one guy tried to recruit me as a server for some party at one of the private tents. I almost said yes, but I got a seriously weird vibe off of him. He was making a big point about how I wasn't allowed to take anything from the tent or they'd own me for a thousand years.

Ugh! That's so weird!

Yeah, the guy was clearly on something strong, and as much as I loved to party back then, I had my limits, you know?

Look at you! Being all hot and not dying.

They both laugh.

Back to my story. Eva Duarte had gotten a job as a stage tech at the festival. By all accounts, she was a hard worker and her coworkers loved her. But that was the last time anyone saw or heard from her until almost 3 years later in 1999 when she came back to Maine, pregnant and married to Justin Duarte.

Holy crap! I thought you were about to say she got kidnapped. Probably by the same creep who tried to get me to work that private tent party.

Nope, this is still a few years from the actual crime. Anyway, back to Justin. There is a lot more known about Justin than his wife. He was born in 1970 to Ramona and Evelio Duarte in upstate New York. He had a pretty idyllic life, it seems like from my research. His family had a beautiful house with a huge backyard. When he was still a kid, Justin got way into swords. I mean very into swords. When he was in high school, his parents allowed him to build a forge in that beautiful back yard and he started teaching himself how to make swords.

Woah! That is not what I thought you were going to say. I would've been impressed if you told me he started learning how to sword fight, but this little high schooler was making swords in his own back yard? Wild!

Right? When I was in high school, I was a in an out of a police cruiser. The most constructive thing I ever did was spray paint the school.

(Shawna laughs) Rebel!

In my defense, the building was really ugly. I improved it.

(Shawna laughs)

Back to my story. After graduating high school, Justin apprenticed with a master swordsmith.

Seriously? Those are real? How on earth did he find a swordsmith in America? In...what? 1988?

Where there's a will, there's a way. He went to California in the beginning of 1989 to work with a man named Calvin Avery, who specialized in making period accurate weapons for movies. He trained under, and then worked with Avery for three or four years. There's a rumor that he had a thing with a museum curator, and she would let him come to the museum after hours to study real ancient swords. Then in 1993, he moved back to New York, after his dad died of lung cancer.

Oh, no! Poor guy!

That's not the worst of it, unfortunately. His mom died less than a year later of a heart attack. And then...Justin disappears from the face of the earth apparently, because there is no record of him between 1994 and 1999 when he shows up in Maine with Eva, who was pregnant at the time.

That's so weird! So there is just no record of either of them for years? There's no record of him or Eva at all? Even in the 90s, how do you manage to go so far off the grid?

No one knows. But it's weird that they both disappeared the exact same way, years apart, and then suddenly show up together. There's speculation that they got involved in something shady, but there is very little evidence. Until 2008.

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After returning to Maine, and the birth of their first daughter, Vivienne, Justin and Eva got very heavily involved in the Ren Fair world. Justin made a name for himself as an authentic swordsmith and Eva had...just all the jobs. She was a hostess, a barmaid, a stage hand, she even played the queen of the Fair a few times. Here's a picture of her at the 2007 PA Renaissance Fair when she played the Queen of Hearts.

Wow! That's Eva? She was frikin gorgeous! Those curves! That's her body after giving birth to twins?

Wait til you see Justin.

(Shawna gasps)

Seriously, all the hot people pair off and leave the rest of us with scraps.

I know, right? He looks like that ridiculously hot guy from Ugly Betty. What's that actor's name? Adam....Adam something.

Yes! That's exactly who he looks like! Adam Rodriguez.

That entire family was so pretty.

Oh! There are pictures of their girls? I don't know if I'm ready to see that right before I hear about their brutal murders.

Okay, so that's actually where the mystery gets super juicy. No one actually knows what happened to the girls.

Wait, what? What are you talking about?

That's one of the things that makes this such an enduring mystery.

Enduring mystery? Shawna laughs. You're making real good use of that thesaurus I got you for your birthday.

Kennedy laughs Shut up and let me tell the story!

I'll be good!

Alright, so Justin's really making a go of this sword smithing thing. He has a website where he sells to collectors, cosplayers and museums. He even made some pieces for indie films, and right before he died, he was hired by a major film company for a big project. It was some Lord of the Rings style epic, that unfortunately got shelved not long after the murders, but there's no proof it was related....It probably wasn't related, but no one ever made a statement about it one way or another. His work was really good. A few of the pieces are still in circulation. I saw one on an auction site that was up to $20,000 in bids, and the biding was still open for another three days after that.

Do you know how much it sold for?

Um...I think I bookmarked the page. Give me a second. Kennedy gasps. Then Shawna gasps.

$48,000 American dollars?

Holy crap! We definitely picked the wrong business. Do you think it's too late to apprentice as sword makers?

Let's look into it after we wrap today.

For sure! Alright, I only have a little bit more story to tell. Where was I? Justin's sword business. It's actually kind of a shame, he wasn't pulling in the money that he would be now. He was selling swords for a few hundred to a few thousand dollars a piece. He was making a decent living, but not $48,000 American dollars worth on a sword. It makes you wonder what he'd be doing now if he'd lived.

Yeah...

So, one afternoon in summer 2008, something tragic happened. There were no witnesses. This was before ring cameras, too, so there was no one around to see what happened. The closest to an eye witness account was from one of the neighborhood kids who was coming over to invite the Duarte girls over to swim at her place. She said she saw a man with green skin wearing dark clothes putting the sisters on a black horse. Then, according to the girl, who is never named, he just disappeared with all three girls. The bodies of Justin and Eva were discovered not long after that. The girl had run home and told her mother that her friends had been kidnapped. Obviously, no one took her seriously at first. The poor kid must have been seriously traumatized to turn whatever she saw into a monster on a horse. When her mother went to go check on the Duartes, she found the door open and both parents lying in the foyer in a pool of blood. There was an axe lodged into the door frame, and the cops think that Justing was trying to use it to fight of the intruder.

Oh! That's awful!

The weirdness isn't over yet. According to the coroners report, Eva and Justin both died of a single stab wound. As near as anyone can tell, they were stabbed with a sword!

No way! So it could've been a customer of Justin's? Or someone from the Renaissance Fair?

No one knows, but that's the best guess. Maybe someone just snapped one day and decided the medieval thing was real. The scariest part is no one knows what happened to the Duarte girls. There was no signs that any of them had been injured, and the detectives on the scene said it looked like some of their belongings had been taken from their rooms.

Those poor girls! But that means there's a chance they're still alive, right? No one ever found any bodies or any signs that they were killed?

That's right. Every few years, Investigation Discovery runs a special on them, and they've aged up photos of the girls. They would be in their late teens or early twenties now....Alright, Shawna, knowing that, do you want to see the pictures of the sisters?

Shawna takes a deep breath. Alright. I'm ready. Show me.

So, here are their school photos, taken that school year.

Wow...those genes are strong. The twins some how look like both parents. It's like Justin and Eva were put in a blender, and their best features combined to make those two. And Vivian...

That's Vivienne. French pronunciation.

I failed French in high school....Anyway, I can kind of see her mother in her. She's got this really ethereal look, though. And wow...that hair. She didn't get that from either parent.

Yeah, so there's a theory that Vivienne isn't Justin's daughter biologically. That was potentially a lead for a little while, but Justin's name is on the birth certificate, and there's no way to check his DNA against Vivienne's. So, all that's left to find the girls is a bunch of dead ends. The authorities haven't given up yet, though. Like I said, every few years, aged up photos of the girls are broadcast, with the hopes that someone who knows them might see it and get in touch with the FBI. Shawna...are you ready to see what the Duarte sister's look like all grown up?

All grown up? The twins can't be more than 18 or 19. And Viv...Viviahn has to be at most 22.

I mean...it's more grown up than 7 and 9. Do you want to see the pics or not?

Yes please!

Alright...here you go.

Long silence

Wow...that's so eerie. They look gorgeous, but uncanny. Like, duh, I know it's photoshop and it's going to look uncanny, but...Vivienne, especially looks like she doesn't belong in the real world. Are those her actual eyes?

Of course (Kennedy laughs). They don't put contact lenses on police generated photos. Although it did cause quite a stir when the pictures were first posted. For those of you listening to the podcast, we will post all the pictures on our socials, but just so you have some context, all the photos that were released of Vivienne as a child have her in sunglasses. I'm not sure where they found a picture of her without them, but apparently the police must have at least one. There's no way they would've released this without verifying.

Wow...Is there anyone in their family looking for them?

Unfortunately, no. There was an aunt in Puerto Rico who was trying very hard to find them, but she was elderly, and she died a few years after the murders.

That's tragic. I hope the girls are safe wherever they are.

And that's all of the story. As I said, we will be posting all photos mentioned today on our socials. If anyone knows three girls who look like the Duarte girls, reach out to your local FBI office. There is a reward for any information leading to finding the Lost Sisters.

Great job, Kennedy! I was on the edge of my seat the whole time. Well, that's our show today, guys! Thanks to listening.

Until next time, remember to ...

*Stay hot and don't get shot!*

Bye!

Y'all come back now, ya hear?

[sweatervest-obsessed]

okay so i'm thinking post!prison reid and reader break up bc he's not ready to be in a relationship after everything that happened in prison. they just don't get back together bc when spence is finally ready it's been a while and they both think it's too late and no one makes a move and they remain as friends UNTIL jj's love confession brings some feelings back onto the surface - reader finds out about it and (cue jeid and their weird, longing glances🥲) has a whole it's all really over moment and then there's distance between her and spencer until there's a confrontation about it and BAM a love confession and second chances😁😁

THIS IS SUCH A MESS but i hope you get my point</33

Um yeah so, absolutely. Some angst for you indeed. I love a convoluted and angsty fight, especially whenever someone is arguing in circles with someone else because they're both just so passionate but angry, anyways, heheh, enjoy!!

WC: 1.5k

TW: Arguing, mentions of violence, mentions of prison, mentions of guns, honestly if you watched CM then that is your TW.

“I just want to know why you’ve been so distant lately. I mean, this is the first time I’m speaking with you one on one in over a week, and it’s because I manage to catch you in the office at nine fucking pm Y/n.”

"So what do you want me to say, Spence? What could I possibly have to say to you? I'm pretty sure Jennifer said everything there is to say."

This caused Spencer to lose all of the oxygen in his body. It froze up. You weren’t supposed to know what JJ had said, no one was supposed to know what JJ had said. 

You and Spencer were in the bullpen of the BAU. Luckily for both of you, since it was so late, no one else was there. Neither of you were extremely public when it came to your relationship, which meant neither of you would have chosen to have this conversation fight in a public place, but no one else was around.

I want you to say something you're afraid to say. Something you'd never tell anybody. And you better make it good. Cause if it's not, it's going to be the last thing you ever say. What's it gonna be?

“How did you know about that?” He whispered. 

“JJ asked Garcia to go through the footage, apparently she wanted to make sure no one could ever access the audio from it.”

"Y/n I--" Spencer closed his eyes, his jaw set. He didn’t even know what to say at this point. You had both clearly made up your minds about this, yet neither of you wanted to see the carnage, the outcome of it all. So, instead, you chose to stand in the middle of the bullpen, fighting against one another.

Fighting for one another.

"I just don't understand why you're so upset about this."

“Spencer–you didn’t even tell me about it, I had to find out about it from Penelope, and who knows who else she told. You were afraid to tell me, yet that giant genius brain of yours can’t, oh I don't know, comprehend just a teeny tiny little bit why this makes me upset?" For the millionth time this evening, you scoffed. 

Something you would never say aloud, not even to your partner. Your deepest, darkest secret. Impress me, or I'll kill him.

"Y/n--"

Spence, I've always loved you. I was just too scared to say it before, and now things are really just too complicated to say it now. I'm sorry, but you should know.

"Fuck Spencer I have been in love with you since I first fucking joined this team." You gasped out. The air around your head got thinner and felt dizzying like you were floating through the air now that this was off your chest. "And I loved you when you asked me on a date. I loved you through Emily's death. I loved you when you asked me to move in with you. I loved you through when Morgan left the team. I loved you through Hotch leaving. I loved you through fucking Cat Adams. I loved you even after I came home one night and you were making out with her against our fucking door. I loved you through every single case and every single flaw. I loved you when you fucking relapsed a few years ago. I even loved you when you went MIA for weeks and then found out you were in a fucking Prison. And I still fucking love you now. But, instead of being together, you asked for a break."

"That's not fair..." He whispered.

"What? Respecting you and your boundaries? Knowing that you needed time to readjust after you had been released, and believing in your promise that once you felt ready to try a relationship again you'd come to me and talk to me about it? And then watching as you fall for JJ all fucking over again? With your stupid fucking glances. This isn't a goddamn tv show Reid, I can see when you both stare at one another across the room, I can see it."

"We don't.."

"You do. You both do. And then, you tell me that Jennifer fucking Jareau is willing to make her last words the fact that she has always loved you and has always been in love with you, and you---" Your voice froze, the sound cutting out. You looked straight at Spencer, not caring about the tears running down your cheeks. You watched as his hand twitched up. When the two of you were dating, Spencer used to wipe away every single of your tears. But now he wouldn't even lift his hand.

"I--what."

You took another breath, trying to calm down, and really think through your words. "This woman who has been your best friend for over a decade just fucking confessed her love for you, in a life-or-death situation, and you're telling me, that she just fucking made it up, pulled it out of her ass, or at least is telling you that she did and now the two of you are going to act like everything is normal and okay?"

"Y/n..."

"You were in love with her for years Spencer. And now, all of a sudden she confesses her love to you, and that changes nothing?"

"No, Y/n, it doesn't. It changes nothing. Does it hurt a bit? Yes. Does it change the fact that I love you? No." Spencer was trying to keep his voice level, hoping you'll continue to match his volume since he didn't want anyone to potentially stumble by and hear your argument. His hand reached for your wrist, but you couldn't bear to feel his skin against yours.

This caused you to let out a water laugh, tears sliding into your mouth, ugly but pouring down your cheeks. A waterfall of grief in all of its rawest forms.

"You still love me."

"Why-Why is that funny."

"I have been waiting to hear those words since you walked out of that fucking prison and the first time I hear it in years, it's because you're trying to justify loving someone else."

"That's not true."

Make it a million and one, you scoffed.

"I have loved you since the moment you first walked through those doors. You were in a pale blue pair of pants, and a black sweater--I remember it because Emily complimented the pants. I spend my whole life loving you and manage to never fully give you every single piece of love I have because there's simply not enough time in the world. I would kill for you. I would go to prison all over again if it meant you would be okay in this world." Spencer ran a hand through his hair, his voice strained. But his eyes never left yours. "Last week, when that unsub had his gun against your head, I fired before he even spoke, not because I assessed it was the right time or whatever fucking excuse I gave to Emily. I fired that bullet because if you died in front of me, I'd......The only thing I was thinking about the entire fucking time JJ and I were stuck in that room was how the fuck I was going to be able to tell you I love you one last time because I wasn't fucking smart enough to take my chance and say it to you every single day."

Your chest was heaving, but you didn't move towards him. It didn't feel right, it didn't feel real.

Spencer was able to take your hand in his, enclosing it between both of his, trying to get you to look at him. "I should have told you the moment I was ready to try a relationship again, but I thought you...I thought you had moved on because I wasn't worth waiting for."

This caused you to laugh again, eyes red from crying. "Don't fucking start with that shit Spencer.''

"I'm telling the god's honest truth."

"I waited for you throughout all of Prison. I waited for you through Maeve. I am still pathetically standing right fucking in front of you, waiting for you to hopefully realize that you still love me."

He kissed your hand. "And I don't deserve you at all for it."

"Do you still love her?"

"Y/n."

"Answer the question, Spencer. Or I'm done. I-I can't do this any longer, watching you....the way she looks at you just--"

Spencer pulled you into his arms, enclosing your body in his arms and kissing the side of your head. "I have always, and will always, love you Y/n Y/l/n. And I want to spend the rest of our lives proving to you that I would choose you, I want you, over and over again."

“That’s not an answer Spencer.” You whispered, rigid in his arms.

“I-I.” He closed his eyes. “I did. And I still do love her, but not like that. I haven’t been i-in love with her since the moment you walked through those doors.”

Spencer felt the weight of your head against his shoulder as you finally conceded and hugged him back, tightly. “Let's go home.” He muttered into your head, waiting patiently for you to hum in agreement. 

Neither of you moved though. You both stood there, locked eternally in the other’s embrace, enjoying the peace you felt for the moment, even though tomorrow was a new day, where you would have to sort through how you really felt about all of this. 

But tonight, you stood with your arms around your love, forever.

[hivemuthur]

The Game of Teaching Body - Ch. 6.

viktorxfemale!reader mature! (for now, I will mark later chapters as explicit when the time comes)

AU university, AU modern era, slow burn, frenemies to lovers, teasing, pinning, banter, eventual romance and therefore smut, Viktor is simultaneously a menace and needs a hug, TA Viktor

Ch.1. | Ch.2. | Ch.3. | Ch.4. | Ch.5. | Ch.7. | Ch.8. | Ch.9. | Ch.10. | Ch.11. | Ch.12.

word count: 5K

tag: #the game of teaching body

summary: ok, so my notes on AO3 reminded me how actually this fic crawled into my brain and it was with Drugs in Our Body. So, what should happen after this chapter is whatever happens in DiOB - it serves as somewhat floating chapter. The story can be read without it, but there might be some gaps in the next and future chapters, as I reference it briefly. So, it's ch.6. -> DiOB -> ch.7. I hope that makes sense, I don't know who I think I am, doing this kind of stuff.

Cross-posted on AO3 + POV3rd Person Version

—

“A C?” you gasped as you opened your paper, the glaring red C screaming at your incompetence. How could this happen? You’d worked on it for an entire week. You turned the paper around, desperate for any explanation, but all you found was Heimerdinger’s poetic scrawl: ‘Not entirely botched but needs more work. Seek and you shall find, Y/N. You can give me a fix-up if you want a higher grade.’

“Don’t worry, I got a D,” Sue sighed, her arms falling to her sides, the paper crumpled in one hand. She hadn’t put in nearly as much effort, spending most of the week hanging out with Alice and doing what she smugly referred to as “girl stuff.”

“Yes, but I put in about a month’s worth of research for this,” you muttered, the frustration spilling out before you could stop it. You caught Sue’s glare and quickly backtracked. “I’m not saying you didn’t! I just… I don’t understand.”

“Well, he says you can fix it. He didn’t say that on mine, look,” Sue said, holding up the crumpled paper. The note read: ‘Not bad. Could be better. Pay more attention to details next time. H.’

“You could ask Viktor for help?” Sue offered faintly; her eyebrows raised. You inhaled sharply, preparing to unleash a tirade of insults about why that was the absolute last thing you would ever do. But before you could, Sue hastily amended, “Or Jayce! He has office hours in the afternoon, or so I’ve heard.”

“I… guess you’re right,” you said, letting out the breath you’d been holding. Seeing Viktor in class was already more than enough to deal with. He acted as if nothing had happened, which only made you more furious. That anger had sharpened even further when Angus had texted to ask you out for coffee, leaving your stomach tied in knots as you agreed.

You met him at a cosy pub near campus, the same one you used to frequent with Hale, Sue, Jayce, Mel, and, well… Viktor—though only because he was coerced, not because you wanted him there. Angus asked you question after question, and you found it surprisingly easy to talk to him. You told him funny stories about your parents being new age freaks, about how much you loved your mum’s Polish cooking, and how your dad had kept you in a strict yoga routine since you were six, grooming you to take over his practice.

You admitted how you’d chosen genetics instead, a quiet rebellion against your mum’s recall healing teachings—only to discover there was some truth to them, realising that everything in the universe was connected.

Angus was fascinated. He told you about his three brothers, who’d gone into law and programming, and how he was the family’s scapegoat. He spoke warmly about his close bond with his mum and his dream of running a facility to help kids overcome trauma through theatre and dance.

You praised him for it, but when he misread your words as an invitation and leaned in to kiss you, you froze. He stopped, eyebrows raised, waiting for you to explain. All you could manage was a clumsy explanation that you’d had a wonderful time, but it made you realise you needed to sort out your own issues first.

He laughed, a soft, knowing sound. “I had a feeling it wasn’t going to be straightforward,” he said lightly.

He seemed like the kind of guy who could easily find someone else, but the thought still left your heart aching. And somehow, it was all Viktor’s fault.

The way he never asked about any of those things. The way he only asked where you were from to wind you up.

You braced yourself through the day, slogging through classes and lectures with the weight of that damned paper gnawing at you. By the time the sky turned dark, you found yourself reluctantly heading back to the science lab, resolved to ask Jayce for help. It felt strange to ask him instead of Viktor—like you were dodging some inescapable fate.

Jayce had always been approachable, quick to befriend the “fresh meat.” If there were any rules about student-TA relationships, he seemed to ignore them with a confidence that made you smile. Viktor, on the other hand… well, he was a different beast entirely.

Stuffing a banana into your mouth as you walked, you caught a glimpse of your reflection in one of the school’s tall windows. Not great, but not tragic either. The real issue was the way your face—mid-chewing—gave away just how much crying you’d been doing. It was painfully obvious, even to you.

You barged into the TA’s office without a second thought. “Hey, Jayce, do you have some time to take a look at this?” you asked, your focus entirely on digging through your bag, where the cursed paper had been unceremoniously shoved earlier.

But when you looked up, you froze.

The person at the desk wasn’t Jayce. It was Viktor.

He glanced up at you, eyebrows raised in surprise at your abrupt entrance. And there it was—already forming—the smirk you hated so much. Before he could unleash one of his insufferable remarks, you scrambled to backtrack.

“Shit, sorry. I thought it was Jayce’s hours. I’ll come back some other time,” you blurted, already halfway out the door.

“Please, don’t be ridiculous,” he said, standing up too quickly, his hand wobbling on his cane. You saw it but decided not to step in to help. “I can take a look.”

His voice carried a careful edge, and you hesitated. You didn’t trust him—not after the last time. He had crossed a line, and you’d felt the sting of it for days. He knew it too. He saw it in the way your body tensed every time he leaned over your workbench in class to offer advice, advice you now refused to take. He saw it now, in the faint swelling of your face, the traces of tears you hadn’t managed to hide.

He knew it had been wrong the moment you stormed out of his office that day, leaving him slumped in his chair with a quiet “Shit,” slipping from his mouth.

Now, as you lingered in the doorway, Viktor saw a chance to make amends. He wasn’t going to let it slip through his fingers.

You eyed him suspiciously before finally handing over the paper, reluctant and still keeping your distance. Viktor perched himself on the edge of the desk, flipping through your work, his sharp eyes scanning for Heimerdinger’s signature wisdom.

“Ah, right. He can’t be bothered to write more than this,” Viktor huffed, reading the vague ‘Seek and you shall find.’

“Thankfully, I made notes for you on this one,” he said, glancing up to meet your eyes. There was a genuine effort in his grin that made you uneasy.

“Wasn’t it supposed to be Jayce’s hours?” you asked, crossing your arms as you watched him pull a set of notes from his bag. Why would he make notes for you in advance? It didn’t add up. Was this some elaborate act to stage a redemption arc for himself?

“Why? Has your focus shifted already?” Viktor’s retort slipped out before he could stop it. The playful edge in his voice made your spine straighten, ready to snap back with a sharp response. But before you could, he quickly softened his tone.

“He’s sick,” Viktor said, his gaze steady, almost remorseful. “I’m covering for him.”

You didn’t know whether to believe him, but the vulnerability in his tone threw you off balance. For once, it seemed like Viktor wasn’t trying to wind you up—or at least, not entirely.

You didn’t say anything at first, but you leaned in closer, your gaze falling to the notes Viktor had spread out on the desk. That familiar scent of his—body wash, something clean and sharp, mingled with freshly washed wool—drifted to you. It was oddly comforting, though you couldn’t quite figure out why it felt so… intimate.

He tapped a finger on the first section of your paper, pointing to where you had rushed to conclusions, skipping the part where you should have explained how you’d arrived at your findings. “You’ve got solid results,” he said, his voice low and patient, “but Heimerdinger’s mark was his way of telling you that your argument is missing a crucial part. You skipped over how you proved your hypothesis—how you got to the results you did.”

You nodded, following his finger as he guided you through the mistakes you hadn’t even noticed before. His advice was precise, practical, and, oddly enough, warm. It wasn’t just about correcting your errors—it was the care he was taking with you. He wasn’t simply telling you what was wrong; he was showing you how to fix it, step by step, as though it actually mattered to him.

“This part here,” Viktor continued, tapping another section, “it’s the hardest part for most students. The construction of the paper—the logic of it. That’s what gets people. You didn’t make any mistakes in your research or results. It’s just the way you laid everything out. This is the part most academics struggle with. It just takes practice.”

You swallowed, warmth rushing through your chest. You couldn’t tell if it was the unexpected kindness or the fact that he was taking the time to explain everything so thoroughly, but something inside you shifted. Your shoulders relaxed, and the tension you’d been carrying eased, just a little.

For a moment, you let your guard down. You allowed yourself to actually listen, to trust in what he was saying. But as his steady, warm tone settled over you, a flicker of confusion took hold. Was this real? Was he being this careful with you because he cared? Or were you just imagining it, reading too much into the moment?

Your mind raced, a swirl of emotions and doubts tumbling over one another. It had only been a few days since that… moment. You weren’t sure if you were holding on to the idea of it or if Viktor’s actions now were a sign that something had shifted between you.

You glanced at him. His focus was entirely on your paper, his expression neutral. But something in his eyes made your heart beat just a little faster. Was he really this warm, or was it just the warmth of the moment? You couldn’t tell.

“How is your hand?” he asked suddenly, pulling you out of your thoughts. His gaze drifted to the small bandage covering the alkaline burn from the other day. The question seemed to slip out unbidden, and you weren’t sure if you appreciated the reminder.

You blinked, thrown back to that moment by the sink: his voice sharp and cutting, his dark eyes boring into you, his fingers pressing gently against your wrist as his mouth asked, “Why are you not wearing gloves?”

Your pulse quickened as you quickly tugged your sleeve over the bandage, concealing the mark. “It’s fine,” you said, taking a step back.

He spoke your name softly, his hand darting out to stop you. This time, his movement wasn’t hesitant, wasn’t unsure, as it had been before. His fingers closed around your wrist—not roughly, but firmly enough that you couldn’t slip away.

He turned your hand palm-up and carefully began peeling the bandage away. The gentleness of the motion disarmed you, and you stood frozen, watching as his sharp eyes inspected the wound beneath.

You winced at the gesture, and Viktor presumed it was painful, though your face twisted more because here he was, exposing you once again. “Don’t be such a baby,” he chuckled.

“I could say the same to you,” you muttered under your breath. Viktor only shot you a glance, laced with a knowing smile.

“It’s looking good. Let it air out once in a while,” he said. This would be the moment to release your hand, but he couldn’t help himself; he held it for a little while longer. He was about to mention how you could always count on him for help with essays and long-term homework, just to cement the quiet truce between you. But you beat him to it.

“You don’t know the first thing about me.” It blurted out before you could stop it. It just shot out of your mouth like an overworked spring.

Viktor was taken aback. His mouth hung open for a moment as he processed your words. What exactly did you mean by that? It was a challenge you threw without thinking. But he could take it. The silence between you stretched, and when you started to retreat your hand, about to mutter an apology, he spoke, hesitantly.

“I… I know you’re half-Polish,” he said, offering a sheepish smile, as if apologizing for how he’d gathered this information. You shot him a glare, but Viktor wasn’t deterred.

“I also know you’re into genetics.” Your sigh was almost audible. These were the things most people knew about you by now. But he wasn’t finished.

“I know that you know Hamilton by heart.” You raised an eyebrow, but he pressed on.

“I know you don’t abandon your friends when they need you. I know you’re ambitious, smart, and funny. I know you laugh at silly, dry chemistry jokes. I know you chew on your pencil when you’re focused.” Your breath hitched slightly, but you stayed silent.

“I know…” he hesitated, his voice softening, “how warm your hands are when you get… excited.” He knew so much more about you but was too afraid to say it. He knew the feeling of your fingers on his scalp as you pulled him closer into a kiss. He knew the taste of your tongue and the sound of little gasps you made when he touched you. He memorized it all and replayed it over and over again in his mind.

You swallowed hard, feeling a strange mix of warmth and nerves twirling inside you. You didn’t speak, just looked at him, and Viktor, not certain about the effect of his confession, refused to meet your gaze. His touch on your hand was tender now, softer than before.

He cleared his throat, finally asking, “So… what do you know about me?” You blinked, thrown off by the question. You answered quickly, not thinking too much about it.

“I know you’re Czech… and that you’re a sad fart.”

Viktor couldn’t help but laugh at that, the sound light and unexpected in the air between you. You felt the tension lift, just a little, as you shared this strange, awkward moment. He released your hand and leaned back against the desk, looking at you with a raised eyebrow, his voice carrying a mix of humour and something more sincere.

“Well, it seems that we need to work on that. I’m so much more than a sad fart. I’m also a stiff, meticulous bastard, I’ll remind you.” He pointed a joking finger in your direction as you rolled your eyes.

“What do you have in mind, then?” you asked, your tone still guarded but tinged with curiosity.

“A… ceasefire?” Viktor suggested, his smile lingering, though his gaze softened slightly. “At least for now.”

Your lips twitched into a half-smile. “As long as you promise not to shoot me in the back.”

Viktor chuckled softly under his breath. “I might have a history of unsportsmanlike conduct, but perhaps we could… start over? Unless, of course, Angus…”

You raised an eyebrow at that, feeling a grin tug at the corners of your mouth. “Oh, you wish I told you,” you teased, your tone a playful challenge rather than an outright denial. “But yes, a ceasefire and a do-over I can accept. No dirty moves, Viktor.”

He leaned in ever so slightly, his voice still playful but with an edge of something deeper. “I solemnly swear.” He held up a hand in mock sincerity before smirking. “No dirty moves… this time.”

His gaze lingered on you, the teasing glint still present, but there was an undercurrent of something else in his tone. He wasn’t making it clear—what exactly were the two of you trying again? Was it just the tentative friendship, the awkward truce formed after your bickering? Or was it something more?

You couldn’t shake the feeling that he might be pushing for something beyond the ceasefire, though he wasn’t saying it outright. Perhaps it was just your imagination, overthinking again, but the uncertainty made you uneasy. You wanted to keep your distance, to hold the upper hand, but something in Viktor’s manner made you hesitate.

Your fingers brushed the edge of your notebook, a telltale sign of your nerves as you glanced up at him. “You’re really not going to elaborate, are you?” you asked, giving him a look that was equal parts challenge and curiosity.

Viktor shrugged, his expression a mix of amusement and caution. “What’s to elaborate? We’re starting over. That’s enough for now, isn’t it?”

You bit your lip, refusing to let him see how much his words made your pulse quicken. Instead, you smirked, masking the flutter of emotions beneath a calm exterior. “As long as you don’t get any funny ideas.”

His gaze softened slightly, though the teasing glint in his eyes remained. “No funny ideas. For now, anyway.” He straightened, placing his hands back on the desk, but the space between you still felt charged and unfinished.

***

To seal the deal, both you and Viktor made an equal effort to keep things neutral—meeting among friends, in public spaces, testing the waters of this truce. One such occasion found you at the pub with the usual group of six, an outing entirely orchestrated by Viktor.

He and Jayce weren’t exactly studying; instead, they were buried in notes, trying to distil their findings into a polished research summary for Heimerdinger. Across the table, Mel and Hale were prepping for their theatre history exam, their discussions frequently devolving into competitive banter as they lobbed historical facts at each other in an effort to outdo one another.

Sue, ever diligent, was rewriting her entire textbook into her notebook as if the act itself would cement the knowledge in her brain. Meanwhile, you were seated cross-legged on the floor, quietly working on your genetics paper, tuning out the chatter as best you could.

The group was a collage of concentration and lively exchanges when you simultaneously let out a yawn and your stomach grumbled loudly, the sound cutting through the general din of the pub.

Viktor’s eyebrows shot up, and he glanced at you over the rim of his notes, his tone wry as he spoke. “Feels like there is more than one need to address here.”

You shifted uncomfortably, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. You quickly moved a hand over your belly as if to stifle the sound. “Uh, I don’t suppose they have sandwiches here?”

“They do!” Jayce chimed in enthusiastically, leaning forward with sudden interest. Food always seemed to pull his attention from whatever he was working on. “And not the worst ones, either.”

Viktor exhaled with a knowing sigh; his expression lightly amused. “Eh, they are… not bad,” he conceded. His tone softened, and he leaned slightly forward, tilting his head in your direction. “What say you?”

You hesitated for only a second before Viktor began rising from his seat. He moved with a kind of deliberate precision, setting his notes neatly onto the side table. You noticed how his gaze briefly flicked to Jayce’s writing, his lips twitching in approval before returning his focus to you.

“Uh, sure,” you said, already scrambling up from the floor. Your papers lay abandoned dangerously close to the pub’s cozy fireplace, but you didn’t notice. Instead, as you rose, you wobbled awkwardly, your leg prickling with the unmistakable sensation of pins and needles. You grabbed onto Hale’s shoulder for balance. “Sorry, my leg fell asleep.”

Viktor smirked, his hand resting lightly on the head of his cane as he stood. “Are you trying to copy me?”

You grinned despite yourself. “Totally. Can I borrow that?” You reached out toward his cane, your eyes glinting with playful defiance.

Viktor raised an eyebrow, his smirk deepening as he straightened his posture slightly. “You can try,” he said, holding the cane a fraction tighter as if to make a point. “But I warn you, it comes with certain… responsibilities.”

“Oh, I bet it does,” you quipped, brushing past him toward the bar. “I can see myself torturing students with such a vigilant symbol of authority,” you added, throwing him a smirk over your shoulder.

Viktor followed, limping slightly but keeping pace with you, his expression caught somewhere between amusement and exasperation as he shook his head.

Behind you, Jayce called out, “Grab me something too!” but neither you nor Viktor paid him any mind.

Hale sighed deeply, finally turning his head away from Mel, who had been poised to deliver another historical fact to outdo him. Instead, his gaze followed you and Viktor as you approached the bar.

“That,” Hale said, his voice low and contemplative, his eyes fixed on you and Viktor as you waited for your coffees at the counter, “will either be beautiful or tragic. Or both.”

“I’m sorry, what are we looking at?” Sue asked, peering over her notebook.

“Our dear friends poking at each other’s hearts,” Hale replied with theatrical solemnity, folding his arms dramatically.

Jayce let out a loud laugh, shaking his head. “Get out, Hale. Viktor would never.”

“Oh, he already did. Just… look at them,” Hale insisted, gesturing subtly in your direction.

Mel perked up, abandoning her train of thought on Renaissance theatre entirely. “Alright, that’s way more interesting than theatre history. Show me what you’re seeing.”

“Alright, kids,” Hale said, sitting up straighter and adopting the tone of a sage sharing forbidden wisdom. “I will share my magic with you, just this once. Look at Viktor. He’s already deep in. See how he’s leaning toward her? I bet he’s saying everything as quiet as possible, so she has to get closer.”

Four heads turned toward the bar, studying the scene unfolding by the counter. Sure enough, your head lingered close to Viktor’s mouth, your neck stretching slightly as though he were, indeed, telling you a quiet joke meant only for you to hear.

“Or,” Jayce countered, raising an eyebrow, “it’s loud in here, and he’s favouring the good leg.”

“Quiet, unbeliever,” Hale dismissed him with a dramatic wave of his hand. “Now, pay attention. Look at his hand. It’s hovering over her, see? He touches her every so often—nothing dramatic, just enough to remind her he’s there.”

The group watched as Viktor’s hand brushed your arm, subtle but deliberate, before retreating again.

“And now,” Hale continued, lowering his voice for effect, “he’s going to make her look. Watch how he gestures toward the bar—something he said, no doubt very clever—and there it is. She’s looking at his hand.” Your gaze flicked down to Viktor’s hand as he emphasized his point, your expression a mix of amusement and concentration.

“Now, notice her,” Hale said, leaning forward conspiratorially. “She’s holding back, but she’s doing that thing she does when she likes someone. See how she doesn’t look directly at him when he talks? Instead, she leans toward him, like she’s pulled by a magnet.”

Right on cue, you tilted your head slightly toward Viktor, though your eyes remained fixed elsewhere.

“And now,” Hale declared with a triumphant grin, “he’ll look away, and she’ll steal a glance. Ah! There it is.” He pointed as your gaze darted to Viktor’s face the moment his attention shifted elsewhere.

“And what is she looking at, you ask?” Hale continued, his tone dripping with faux gravity. “She’s checking if he’s comfortable with her. Or, in Viktor’s case, if he’s in pain. Watch her eyes.”

Sure enough, your gaze swept over Viktor’s posture, subtly assessing the way his body shifted against the cane.

“And now, for the dramatic finale,” Hale announced, holding up a hand as if to quiet an invisible audience. “He will pass her the first cup of coffee, and she will take it from his hand. That way, they’ll touch—skin on skin. And…”

The group collectively held their breath, eyes fixed on the bar. Viktor handed you a cup, your fingers brushing briefly.

“She’ll look at him and make a joke,” Hale continued confidently, “and—yes, there it is.”

You said something with a wry smile, your eyes glinting, and Viktor’s laugh followed—a soft, genuine sound that made his shoulders relax.

“And now,” Hale finished with a flourish, “he’s shoving four sugar packets into his coffee while she’s not looking. I guess that’s just Viktor being gross.”

Sue stifled a laugh, Mel smirked, and Jayce shook his head in disbelief.

“And this,” Hale said, leaning back triumphantly, “ladies, gentlemen, and beautiful creatures, is the cautious love that we are lucky enough to witness blooming before our very eyes.”

“With your voiceover, it feels like spying on someone having sex, Hale,” Mel quipped, arching an eyebrow.

“Exciting, isn’t it?” Hale replied, completely unfazed, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. Reading people was his superpower, and he had seen through Viktor the first day they all met in the very pub that was now their place of refuge. You, he knew by heart.

“Man, you are frightening,” Jayce whispered loudly. “Watching this careful study, well… maybe you’re right, but I wouldn’t get my hopes up,” he added, glancing toward the bar. He hurriedly returned to his notes, mindful that you and Viktor would be back any second and shouldn’t know what had just transpired. Feeling the weight of three questioning stares, he sighed and elaborated, “Viktor does more of… guest performances rather than full seasons, if you catch my meaning.”

“Oh, let him try a guest performance with my darling girl, and I will shove his cane up his—” Hale’s expression shifted instantly from threatening to sickeningly sweet as he noticed you eyeing him from the distance. “Did you get what your heart desired, my love?”

“I suppose. What are you guys talking about?” you asked, your gaze sweeping suspiciously over the group before landing briefly on Viktor. You sent him a silent question, but he didn’t seem to notice, too absorbed in his meticulous effort to sweeten his coffee.

“Nothing… Renaissance theatre history… lip gloss,” came a broken chorus of voices in response.

Your eyebrows shot even higher on your forehead. “Uh… as you wish, weirdos,” you dismissed, focusing on your sandwich instead.

The group fell into a brief silence, the kind that crackled with unspoken thoughts, pens scribbling, papers being shuffled around. Jayce kept glancing toward Viktor one time too many, his eyebrows furrowing as if he were trying to decode something. Viktor’s patience snapped first.

“What?” Viktor asked, irritation colouring his tone. “Do I have something on my face?”

Jayce blinked, startled. “Huh? No, just… never mind,” he muttered, hurriedly returning to his notes. Was it possible for his friend to have a thing with you and never mention it?

Before the awkward moment could deepen, Sue suddenly jolted upright as if struck by lightning. “Shit! I need to pack!” she exclaimed, shoving her notebook into her bag with alarming speed. She leaned over to you, kissed your forehead dramatically, and declared, “Don’t do anything stupid while I’m away.”

You rolled your eyes, chewing on your sandwich. “No promises.”

Sue hesitated for a split second, her gaze flickering briefly toward Viktor before snapping back to you. “Or do,” she added with a sly grin, winking.

You snorted, shaking your head. “Have a nice weekend, Sue.”

“You too!” Sue called over her shoulder, already halfway out the door.

Once she was gone, Jayce tilted his head curiously. “Where’s she off to?”

You swallowed your bite and shrugged. “Spending the weekend with her dad. Family bonding time, you know how it is.”

Viktor, who had been stirring his coffee in a slow, thoughtful rhythm, glanced at you. “So, you are alone for the entire weekend?”

You met his gaze, an eyebrow arching. “That’s right. Why? Got something in mind?”

Viktor’s lips curved into the faintest hint of a smirk, but all he said was, “Maybe.”

You tilted your head, your eyes narrowing playfully. “Careful, Viktor. As a wise man once said, too much love can kill you.”

Jayce, who had been sipping his drink, choked on a laugh, sputtering as he tried to regain his composure. Viktor’s brows knitted together in confusion for a moment. He rested his chin on his hand, mulling it over until realization dawned. He straightened, looking at you with mild disbelief.

“Wait,” he said slowly, his voice laced with both amusement and incredulity. “Did you just quote Meatloaf at me?”

You grinned wickedly, your eyes glinting with mischief. “What can I say? I have range.”

Jayce laughed again, shaking his head. “I can’t decide if that’s impressive or completely unhinged.”

“Unhinged,” Viktor replied flatly, though the corners of his mouth twitched in betrayal of a suppressed smile.

You raised your sandwich in a mock toast. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Of course you would,” Viktor muttered, taking a long sip of his now overly sweetened coffee.

But as if taking your cautionary tale seriously, Viktor didn’t reach out to you at all on Friday evening or Saturday. You had half-expected a witty text or some excuse to drop by, but your phone remained stubbornly silent.

You told yourself you didn’t care. If Viktor wanted to brood or busy himself with his mysterious projects, that was his problem, not yours. You weren’t going to waste your weekend waiting for him to decide otherwise. So, when you overheard someone in the dorm hall mentioning a party on the third floor that evening, you figured it was better than wallowing in boredom.

[evvlevie]

I basically shifted again.

hi, hello, it‘s me: your favorite shifting blogger Evie 😼❤️

ever since your girl Eves has had the time and motivation to focus back on shifting, she has been on fire 👀

I suppose that if you guys are seeing this right here, you have probably read my most liked / reblogged / commented post about my first shifting experience already. And in case you didn‘t …

➡️ G O C R A Z Y R I G H T H E R E ⬅️

This one is going to be as detailed as possible once again, so in case you are one impatient mother-lover: I am sorry <3

🍎 MOMENTS BEFORE 🍎

🔆 I am telling you this time was very different from the first time for one very very important reason: I didn‘t fucking try to shift. Last time I was actively trying methods and visualizations, I actively tried to keep me in the right mindset and I don‘t want to say I was forcing it, but I was definitely concentrating on shifting. 🔆 Ever since I started embodying the energy/the mindset I was describing in this exact post, I never even methodically tried to initiate shifting. All I ever did was rely on the universe to basically let me meet my DR as soon as it deemed me ready for it. 🔆 However I was following a certain routine for the last week when it came to shifting and I suppose that was very crucial. Each night before falling asleep I would take my melatonin spray and I would very consciously and with clear intent say with each spray I took: „This is my shifting spray, and now I will shift tonight.“ I always take like 4 sprays and then I would lay down to sleep and just imagine one certain scenario tied to my DR and nothing else. I wasn’t even actively trying to feel every emotion, or sensation like I used to do it when I attempted shifting, I was just playing the scene over in my head and basically just enjoyed the moment for myself. 🔆 Last night tho, I did not take any melatonin and I didn’t even imagine my little scene because i laid down to sleep so late at night I actually forgot to try basically. But since I was so used to my routine and this was so imbedded into my brain my subconscious was very aware of my shifting-intent. Since I was not actively trying to shift, I was not monitoring any feelings or signs or symptoms and everything just happened naturally which is the key here. I did mention in this old ass post, that when you are too aware of you shifting you basically sabotage yourself and keep yourself from shifting.

🍎 THE MOMENT 🍎

🔆 I distinctively remember how I was in the middle of falling asleep, and suddenly I felt like I was floating. And when I say suddenly I mean from one second to the other I suddenly felt like there was no mattress under me anymore, and I was just flying around in the fucking universe or something. 🔆 even if I didn‘t open my eyes somehow everything I saw was a white light swallowing me and everything around me was white 🔆 As weird as this may sound now but I was very aware of the fact that I was between realities in that moment and that I was basically swirling round the universe in order to land in my DR. 🔆 In my imagination my DR-Day starts with me waking up on a bed, because I am in a luxurious hotel in Bali and it‘s my wedding weekend (I‘m having a How-I-met-your-mother-season-9-kind-of-DR) . I always had a very specific hotel room in mind when visualizing me waking up. And even if I wasn’t really conscious of anything I just know I was swirling around trying to do a front flip onto that damn DR-Bed in order to land there. 🔆 I know how fucking idiotic that sounds but you guys need to understand that I am just that weird sometimes, that it is really like me to front flip into a different reality😭

🔆✨ the most interesting part about all of this, is that just like last time where I was feeling myself getting pulled into a different reality, I was able to physically feel all of my flips, just like when you go on a roller coaster and that fucker is turning you upside down a lot and you are starting to get sick. I could literally feel my stomach turning upside down.

🔆✨ before any shifting denying people want to comment on my post that I have psychosis again: I am a legal adult that has lived two decades, I can very much distinct between a dream and physical sensation, I have encountered enough situations in my life that allow me to make a pretty spot on differentiation here. I fucking know I was not dreaming.

🔆 I fucked up a little when I started becoming too aware of what I was doing and accidentally grounded myself in the CR again (like last time goddamn it)

🍎 ADVICES ?🍎

➡️ 📜 ⬅️ this ancient advice is going to be the best one I can give you. (dare to click that old ass looking paper emoji) Trying to control how all of this goes down, will only drive you insane I promise. Just like the last time, I shifted when I wasn‘t actively in my shifting-mindset. Last time I called that a Mini-shift because well I didn‘t end up really spending time in that other reality but this time I am confident enough to say I shifted. I was experiencing exactly what has proven me again that shifting is not only real, but that it is definitely a feeling you have to get used to.

I am so excited that after my nearly year long shifting break I am not only back, but evidently on the right track and stronger than ever

I Hope this post was able to help y‘all in some way or another, and don‘t be too shy to ask questions ❤️

Yours in every reality,

Evie <3

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

Okay this idea has been rotting my brain all night and i need to get it out; i may turn this into a full fic (there’s so much more to eddie and how he died), but here’s some paranormal romance steddie! (with a nod to the @azrielgreen -verse at the end 😉)

edit: i've started posting the full fic! on tumblr | on AO3

—

imagine ghost!eddie haunting the estate that was built overtop where his trailer had been

ghost!eddie becoming corporeal(ish) every halloween, letting his rage fuel the poltergeist rumors at the old estate.

the forest hills estate sits empty since being completed, until Steve Harrington moves in from Indianapolis.

Steve Harrington who uses the inheritance from his grandfather to fix up the old place, not knowing the rumors, the stories, that have been floating around the last nearly 40 years.

Steve, who ends up learning about them from a pack of young teens riding by the front gate on their bikes.

“You know that place is haunted as fuck, right?” says the red head.

“Language!” he scowls at her, only to get an eye roll from her and the gangly, greasy looking one. “And no, I didn’t know that. Is that why all my cabinets are open every morning when I wake up?” he asks. And they really had been, he kinda figured that there was something going on in that house but hadn’t felt threatened by whatever presence was there.

He relishes in their spooked faces.

“A girl died there and her boyfriend killed the guy who did it soon after.” the one with the high top fade said earnestly.

“Allegedly, Lucas! Allegedly!” this time it’s the one with the curly hair and cap. “He always thought it was him but there was literally a letter.”

“He could’ve faked it, Dustin!” the gangly one snarks at his friend.

“It’s not likely, handwriting forensics concluded it to be her handwriting.” oof, this kid desperately needs a haircut.

“POINT IS.” the red head yells over the boys. It must’ve been a regular occurrence though, as they all fall silent (or silent enough while still bickering). She turns back to an amused Steve, “He likes metal music. If you play it, I’m sure he’ll leave your cabinets alone.”

“He who? The ghost?”

She nods, “Yep!”

So he does, picks up some retro vinyl to play (along with playing some tracks from his phone over his speaker while he works on the house), figuring if the guy died in the 80s, he’d probably like the sound of them better.

He plays the music, finds he likes some of it, talks to this mystery ghost as he goes about the house finishing projects. Throws some classic rock on sometimes too, saying “Hey ghost man, I’m sorry but I can’t listen to this much metal at a time. Hope Zepplin is okay.”

ghost!eddie who will always use some of his ghostly persuasion over things to spin the vinyl backwards on the turntable during ‘Stairway to Heaven’.

Steve, who does some research and learns about his supposed ghost, yells in greeting as soon as he’s back from the library, “Hi, Eddie!! I’m home!” reveling in the swirls of cold air that spin around him in response along with just a ghost (hah) of a whispered “Hi, Stevie..” in his ear.

Steve and Eddie, who get closer and closer over the months, learning anything and everything about one another. Steve goes through a lot of paper in the first couple weeks, asking a question and waiting for the paper with ‘Yes’ or ‘No’ written on it to flutter in an unseen breeze. Which paper scribbled with a different color marker to fly up into his lap (Eddie’s favorite color is blue, Steve tells him his is yellow).

Steve, beginning to see the shadow of another person in the corner of his eye more often the not as the summer winds into fall and the repairs he needed done are wrapping up.

By September there’s no denying the figure he sees reaching a hand out to flick up the answer to a question, or the laughter he hears coming from it after a particularly bad joke.

The shadow is Eddie; and Steve is starting to make out details about his ghost.

The long fluffy hair, the slim waist, the dark eyes that pierce through shadow against the slowly brightening skin beneath.

Eddie, who realizes Steve must be able to see him and starts staying away more often then not, afraid of what he’d see in that beautiful face when he’s finally his old boring self again. Can’t bear to see that disappointment on the face of this man he’s come to care so much for (read: fully crushing on).

He retreats fully by mid September, sticking to the far less quantifiable shadows in the house and between the walls.

Steve still tries, bless him. Leaves questions all over the place, hoping to see them answered. Eddie does, every night, wanting Steve to know he’s still here.

A week later, “Eddie, I know you can hear me, can you make sure to answer this one as soon as you can? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but I figured we maybe show off our house—the house—now that everything’s done.”

‘Our house!! He said our house!!!’

Eddie looks at what his Steve left on the new kitchen counter that night.

“Halloween Party?” is scrawled on an open page of their now worn notebook.

Something hot floods his chest at that. Steve wanting to make sure he’s okay with that many people being here at once. Eddie knows damn well what the feeling is and he’s not about to waste his corporeal time this year, he’s going to do something with it besides wreaking havoc (on the house at least).

Halloween arrives, and many in the small town want a glimpse into the old estate. There are people everywhere, costumes and all.

Steve’s proud of all the hard work he’s done to the place but he still misses Eddie. Wishes he could be here to see what had become of the place he’d hated for so long. See it for real.

Halfway through the night is when it happens.

The party is in full swing, his ballroom full of people and music and food. His playlist changes over to Bowie.

Steve smiles to himself at the memory the song pulls forward. Still soon after learning about Eddie and staring their questions and answers thing, Steve had put on Labyrinth, laughing at how frantically the “i LOVED it!” paper had swirled around in the air after asking Eddie’s opinion.

A new face he hadn’t seen in the crowd before catches his eye. This man coming down the staircase is striking. Long, dark, curly hair is pulled back in a low ponytail, lean legs in off white pants, sparkling dark blue jacket, slim waist… He’s so gorgeous, so ethereal, he can’t be real.

Okay, nope, everyone else in the room is parting for this man. So, definitely real.

Steve stands as the man approaches, a hand extended. Keeping their eyes locked on each other, the man leads Steve by the hand to the center of the room.

The man smirks at Steve, still stunned, and arranges their arms. Then they’re dancing, swirling around the space the crowd created for them.

Steve feels like he’s floating.

He’s dancing to As The World Falls Down with a breathtaking man he now realizes is definitely dressed as the Jareth to his Sarah.

Steve finally finds his voice, “Hi..” It’s barely a whisper.

The man smirks, scoffs a laugh, but whispers back: “Hi Stevie.”

Steve’s brain screeches to a halt, and the man’s eyes sparkle with mischief (and a little bit of apprehension).

He can’t compute the information right away, frantically scrambling for a logical explanation. Some way for someone to know about Eddie enough to imitate him, to know about ‘Stevie’..but comes up with nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch.

“Eddie…is that really you?”

“Yeah, sweetheart, it’s really me.”

Eddie brings their foreheads together and they sway to the rest of the song, Eddie softly singing along.

The song ends and Steve pulls Eddie through the crowd and out into the garden.

His mind is still swirling, so he clings onto Eddie’s arms just as much as Eddie clings to his.

“Eddie—“

“Wait, Steve, let me..” Eddie clears his throat and explains everything. How he died, how long he spent his one night of reality trying to keep people away from where he and his best friend had died. “I don’t want to waste tonight, but I’m afraid if I—if I tell you how I feel about you…I will be complete. Done with my unfinished business and all that.”

“How do you know?”

Eddie chuckles. “The Moon.”

Steve now fully, painfully aware of how little remains of the night, how little time he may have with Eddie altogether, decides he doesn’t have time to unpack that. So he says “Kiss me. Eddie, please, kiss m—“

Eddie does, and the Moon smiles down on her beloveds.

[casual-praxis]

Okay, so I know I said I wasn't going to do much with this AU since I was focused on a different one at the time (and I still am), but I've been thinking about the post-canon for this AU a bunch and I couldn't get it out of my head.

The designs are fairly simple (most changes occur post-canon), but there's still a few details in there that I'd like to talk about! Peep below the cut for more yappin' if you'd like.

(I just figured out how to add line breaks yeehaw)

I started with Green since I had the clearest picture of her in mind. I like to think they all got a mishmash of traits from the original Link here, so Green has the og Link's ponytail, but its length was divided between her and Red. All in all, she resembles Link the closest but isn't an exact match. I also made the executive decision that she simps for Zelda. She's just really worried about her future girlfriend, okay?

Blue didn't quite turn out how I'd hoped, but if I ever do something more with this stage of the AU, I can always make adjustments. Her hair is supposed to be the fluffiest, matching the og Link's texture. She's a little insecure about it making her look "too girly" or cute since that's not at all the image she wants to have, but she learns over time that being cute and badass can still go hand in hand.

Red is the one I was looking forward to drawing most, but she's still fairly simple as well. She wears her hair in a side ponytail to "not step on Green's toes", but also because she thinks it's cute (she and Blue don't see eye to eye on this early on, as you can imagine). She has a bomb-shaped hairbow that she made herself (tying into her post-canon shenanigans), but I haven't yet figured out when she acquires it.

Vio was supposed to be holding her bow here but I couldn't quite figure out how to draw it at that specific angle, so it's in hammerspace for now. Outside that, Vio's design has the most variety. She's meant to learn emotions over time within this au, and this progression is marked by the flowers in her hair. She starts out with none, but as they journey, Red starts to teach her the basics, and with it weaves Zelda's favorite flower into her braid. Once she joins up with Shadow, she's gifted a violet (because Shadow thinks it's punny, and for subtext reasons) that she starts using to pin her bangs out of her face. The flowers begin to wilt as time goes on, first the wildflowers, then the violet, until none remain and the final act is approaching. Shadow gives her one last violet before dying, though Vio doesn't actually start wearing it until the Four Sword is put back and they remain behind. Lots of lore for this one.

Finally is Shadow, who I'm actually surprised turned out so well. I went back and forth on whether I wanted her to wear the hat or not, but I ended up deciding against it since none of the others wear their hats either. Her hair pretty much acts like Shadow's hat in canon, it moves independently of her and the tips of it are smokey and wisp around. Along with Red, I have decided she is short. It just felt right. She does have claws and fangs, but she keeps them a little more on the down low until a suitably dramatic moment occurs to reveal them.

And that's all that comes to mind for now. I've had this idea floating around in my brain since I got back into the fandom, but never had the motivation to poke it too much and see what it do.

The post-canon is what I've mainly been focused on, so maybe I'll try and doodle a few things for it sometime. I took inspiration from one of the bonus comics in the manga where they all stay split after the sword goes back, so that's the canon ending for this au.

It goes fairly far into the future, with all of them settling into their own lives somewhat independent of each other (they all see each other multiple times a week with the exception of Vio, who travels a lot with Shadow ((who may or may not have been brought back through dubious dark magic rituals))).

The brainrot is real, but hopefully entertaining for anyone who made it this far.

[formosusiniquis]

🪱 Wiggle Wednesday🪱

Thank you @paperbackribs who tagged me last week, I saw it while I was in class and immediately forgot until I saw people posting their things today. But I'm always excited to share my current brainworms

This is a scene from a fic that I pick at every now and then, so it's basically always on the brain. It started as something about Lucas and Steve and trying to explain away the slight anachronism of Steve (popular and rich) being in Nikes before Jordan made them cool (thank you Air) and it has turned into something much more about Lucas and also his Mom relating through a shared love of basketball and Steve is also there.

It’s a Friday night after the end of the world, and strangely Lucas is at a basketball game.

Or maybe it’s only strange because it’s so normal.

A Friday night in a small town and there isn’t much to do except support the home team. Only Mom won’t watch football, she calls it barbaric, so she reserves all her team spirit for November when basketball season starts. Lucas’ skin itches a little under the Hawkins Tigers shirt he’s wearing, as he’s pretending to be normal when a couple weeks ago he learned monsters were real. What can he do though? Mrs. Byers has Will on house arrest, Mike is still mourning Eleven, and Dustin hasn’t been allowed out since Will’s Lazarus act.

Maybe he’s being too sensitive. Steve is here, who Lucas mostly knows from Mike complaining about being Nancy’s stupid boyfriend. Steve is playing like everything is fine, even though Lucas knows Steve knows. He heard whispering about it with Nancy when he went to the bathroom the last time he was at Mike’s. But Steve is smiling as he paces down the court. Miles better than the other players around him, when Steve has the ball Lucas feels like he does when he’s watching a real basketball game on the couch with his Mom.

If Steve can act like things are normal. If he can sink three pointer after rebound after assist, maybe it’s okay that Lucas is wearing his Tiger green. He floats down the court and everyone cheers. But no one cheers right. When #21 Hagan gets a rebound off of Seymour’s best player, a girl’s voice screams so loud it makes his throat hurt. No one cheers that way for Steve. It’s just excitement for the game, not for him and the way he is playing.

When the game ends, Hawkins 73: Seymour 42, and the crowd storms the court Lucas stands by his Mom in the bleachers. She hates feeling the push of the crowd against her and as he gets older, and people’s hands get rougher, he’s starting to understand. He’s too old to be caught standing by his Mom though. After everything, he knows better than to move too far away from her; going to the game with your Mom is one thing, being the kid getting called out over the intercom because she can’t find you would be life ruining.

Lucas watches the thinning crowd while he waits. Parents and girlfriends crowding their sweaty players. He doesn’t want to get caught looking at any of those boys for too long now that they aren’t playing. He isn’t sure why. So he keeps looking for something familiar.

Steve is standing beside a short, dark haired man who’s got what his father calls a beer gut. He doesn’t look anything like Steve, but he’s also the only adult anywhere near him. He’s the only person at all that’s really near Steve. They’re talking excitedly about something. He claps Steve on the back and whatever he says next has Steve looking down toward the floor.

“Is that Steve’s dad?” he asks his mom before thinking about why that might be a weird question to ask her.

“Who?” The way she says it makes him sure she hadn’t actually heard the question. She’d caught a name, when he interrupted her conversation with the lady next to them, but not enough to answer. It’s a free chance to drop the issue. To say sorry, never mind, and go back to watching people move on the floor below them.

“That guy,” she slaps his hand down as he goes to point. “The guy next to Steve, number 8, is that his dad?”

“How do you know him?” The question, instead of an answer, startles him enough that he looks at her instead of Steve. Stern, he knows he doesn’t want to lie to her, but he also isn’t sure how to say that this random high school boy saved two of his best friends’ older siblings' lives.

“He’s Nancy’s boyfriend. Mike talks about him.”

If he’d just waited. He would have gotten his question answered without asking Mom. They both watch as that man says one more thing to Steve, shakes his hand, and walks out of the gym. “I don’t see Nancy here.” Because they both know he doesn’t really need his other question answered anymore.

“I don’t think she really likes sports.”

Mom sucks her teeth, a judgmental tchk that has heat climbing the back of his neck when it's not even for him. "Well that's a shame, he's a good player." There's finally enough space on the floor that they could leave. He wants, desperately, for them to just go cause something about this conversation is making him feel guilty again. "Do you want to to say hi?"

There's nothing he wants less than that. Lucas thinks if he has to go up to this guy, who went toe to toe with a monster, while his mom trails behind he'll die. Lucas thinks if he says hi to a guy who has only seen him maybe twice in the context of Mike Wheeler's house, and has to sit there while Steve blankly accepts his congrats he'll melt into the floor.

"Can we just go home? I still have homework."

And some tags to @fuctacles, @cauldronoflove, @thefreakandthehair, @stevespookington, @stevieharringtonwifeguy

@eriquin, @grasslandgirl, @augustjustice, and anyone else who wants to play!

[nerdieforpedro]

Weddings 101 with Dieter

Chapter Three: Meeting the Family

Dieter Bravo x plus size OFC (Maya)

Fanfiction 18+

Masterlist / Dieter Bravo Masterlist / Weddings 101 with Dieter Series/ AO3 Link

Word Count: approx 5.2k

Summary: Maya is awoken to Dieter having a vivd dream that benefits both of them. They go off to the separate events, Maya to the start of wedding stuff and Dieter to his golf press appearance. Maya is not enjoying herself at all and Dieter continues his beef with Oscar Issac. Daisy comes through for the win.

Warnings: self-doubt, sexy clouds, Dieter is a grabby menace, grinding, biting, sucking, vivid dreams, mutual masturbation, more bad nicknames, more Oscar Issac slander, body worship, one rouge mushroom, Dieter's MOUTH

Notes: Dieter has been chillin’ in my brain for the last few weeks. After posting chapter two, I started writing chapter 3 and here is where we are. I’m going for a rom-com vibe because Pedro hasn’t been in any and that saddens me greatly. He’d be so good in one! 😫 I’m aware that Pedro and Oscar are best buddies in real-life, I just wanted to add to the comedy for Dieter having a beef another actor and since he got mad about Star Wars last time, it was perfect.

Groggy, Maya opened her eyes, things were blurry and she couldn’t make anything out. She felt warm, maybe even a little hot. Not sure why, it was comfortable so she dozed back to sleep. An hour later, she awoke again, feeling like she had a new lease on life. She didn’t remember any of her dreams, never did, but felt a sense of unexplained joy. When she moved, things became more apparent.

She’s chest to chest with Dieter, laying on top of him. One leg is draped over his hips and her hand is cradling the back of his head. Her face on his chest and hears his heartbeat, surprisingly slow to her. He’s really sleeping comfortably with her weight on him like this. More shocking than that is she didn’t feel like moving. His body was sturdy, not something she imagined when thinking of Dieter. Lips parted slightly as his chest rises and falls, just listening to him soothes her nerves. Maybe this isn’t so bad. I mean I didn’t mean to be in his bed the first night here, but like this isn’t horrible. I wonder if he’d be startled if he woke up right now, wait…what time is it?

Maya recalled what Bravo’s assistant had mentioned yesterday, that he had somewhere to be at noon. Some press thing maybe, but whatever it was, she needed to know the time now. She didn’t hear anyone else in the villa that she could tell so maybe it wasn’t quite time yet. No alarm was going off so it should at least be before eleven. Now the next question, how should she wake him up? Just push his head, pinch him, move her leg, poke him… something may already be poking. No that’s just morning wood, it doesn’t mean what you think it means. Maya took her hand off Dieter’s head and pushed her torso up off of his chest, hearing him groan as she rolled on her back, swinging her leg quickly and brushing his erection.

A soft “Fuck baby,” was heard at the loss of the softness. Dieter was dreaming he was inside a cloud, laying on a bean bag with Kit Kat on top of him. She just was making fun of how goofy his face was with his wide cheerful smile, Just enjoying the sound of her voice as she talked and the pressure from her body, but then she floated away, saying she had to go. He reached for her and was able to wrap his arms around her, pressing his face between her cushiony bosoms instead of her stomach this time. “Shit you can’t get away. This is the best feeling, You can’t go Maya, you’re my Kit Kat dammit.” He heard loud drums suddenly, they scared him so he pressed his face deeper, turning his head side to side, the friction from his beard making his face warm. His lips found what he thought was her breastbone as he kept pressing his nose deeper, tipping his chin up, he extended his tongue and licked, tasting a mix of skin, sweat. He mumbled something into her chest and started to alternate between sucking and nibbling. The tempo of the drums changed from sounding like timpani (large orchestra drum) to snare drums that were uneven. They complemented the low sighs he heard, encouraging him to only suck harder and branch out toward her breasts. Once he did, the sighs transformed into moans, the back of his head had a familiar pressure on it from four to five different small points and his back was being raked by something sharp. It didn’t matter, all of it was euphoric, Dieter had never had a dream like this.

“Sweet Lips…sta- shit that feels good…” Her moans continued, she wrapped her arms around his head, to keep his head at her breasts. Maya’s thighs pressed together, she expected to be able to get out the bed but now she was participating in whatever dream Dieter seemed to be having. A dream about her. She was pleasantly surprised, but worried, she still didn’t know what time it was and didn’t want the assistant or anyone else walking in and seeing them like this. Bravo had pulled up her shirt and bra to access her breasts, it was why she thought he was awake, but despite her increasing moans and calling his name, he didn’t respond, just kept sucking and teasing her. She knew whenever she did get up, she’d need to wash her panties and shorts as they were soaked. His hardness kept grazing her knee and thigh, moist with what was likely his own precum. “Fuck, it’s just there…Dieter it’s not fair…Mmm…” He grazed her nipple with his teeth and she yelped, digging her fingers into his scalp before grabbing the base of his neck. Using her thighs, she was able to provide some friction to his cock as he kneaded and suckled on her breasts.

While Dieter was trapped within the warmth of his Kit Kat cloud, he felt the pressure of a firm water mattress around his cock. The fabric of his pants were a hindrance in identifying the true nature of the presence he felt providing his throbbing member some relief. His hips started to jerk as he grew closer to his release, moving faster the more he heard cursing along with his name. He managed to work both nipples into his mouth as he climaxed into his pants and onto the warm water bed. Taking his head from the breasts he was so fond off, his world view began to change

He was on a mattress, but there were no water or clouds, instead there were pillows, sheets and Maya. Her shirt was raised along with her bra and her breasts were slightly swollen and in his hands as he still massaged them gently. His face cooled from the departure as he looked up at a wondrous sight, Maya panting looking down at him, her eyes fluttering trying to focus but unable to. Her hand was on his neck. He looked down and his pants were wet with not only his spend, but some of hers that had leaked from her shorts. Dieter was conflicted, he was coming down from an excellent sex dream induced high that he had acted out with the person he had been dreaming about. The question was, is she okay with what he did? He wasn’t sure if the effects of Molly had worn off yet and she was perhaps more sensitive and hadn’t been alright at all with him touching her. “Maya, are you alright? I was having an intense dream and it looks like I-”

“Dee, you’re not fair at all. How the hell are you going to be so good at that while asleep?! It’s not right, I’ve never been happier about having sore breasts.” Maya sighed and cupped his cheek. She giggled and he exhaled, that’s one elephant out of the room, the second would be equally as worrisome. “I felt more sensitive. Is that because of the juice I drank last night? What was in there?” Dieter closed his eyes and placed a hand on her hip, pulling her shirt down. Her breasts were distracting and this needed to be said with the proper attention, though he was surprised that she remembered feeling off and drinking the juice, did she remember what she told him last night?

“Well that juice was supposed to be for my two day golf press tour. I show up, take pictures and do some autographs. It’s boring but pays well. I drink my juice spiked with some Molly to put me in a better mood for it.” He explained, his fingers tapping to the drums he had heard in his dream. 

“Ah that explains it. I felt real giggly and very bendy? Flexible? No.” She paused, trying to find the right word to describe it. She had sensed something was off, but didn’t mind it. She recalled drinking a lot of water as well too. “Open! That’s the right word! Open to any and everything. It’s a fun feeling like someone took out all my worries, but scary now that I think about it. Anyway I should have asked what was in your fridge given you told me that it was the most fun you’d had just by drinking.” Her laugh told Dieter that maybe things were alright for now, he didn’t need to ask about what she mentioned in the kitchen. Her soft lips kissed his head as she rolled away from him, popping up out of the bed. Scanning the room, Maya didn’t see a clock at the bedside or on the wall. She also didn’t see her phone either. It turned out she was in her room instead of Dieter’s so it should be in here. Maybe she left it downstairs after setting the alarm. 

Dieter got up on all fours and crawled to the edge of the bed, “Looking for something?” He wiggles his butt as Maya turns and she giggled, using a finger to poke his forehead. 

“I’m looking for my phone, a clock or any indication of time. You have to be showered and dressed by noon and I should be getting to the introductory brunch with everyone.” Her hand went to his curls, using her nails to run along his scalp and she was sure he purred. Dieter lowered his head to allow her to continue, a low hum mixed in with the purrs. “Enjoy that my fluffy boy? I can massage it more later tonight.” She paused, “Oh! Sugar Li-“

“Fluffy boy or Dieter is perfect Maya.” He ran his palm along the forearm of her hand that was atop his head, he looked up and smirked, “That’s a promise Kit Kat. I’ll hold you to it. Ask me if I enjoy it again. Say my name this time.” He moved closer to the edge of the bed and wrapped his arms around her hips, his cheek on her stomach, listening as it churned with hunger. He gave it a swift peck and nuzzled into her belly further.

This time, she used both hands to graze the top of his head, feeling his soft curls and spotting flashes of gray within the chocolate brown. She looked down, resisting the urge to pull him up and take his lips, he appeared content to hold her. Maya took a quiet rasp, closing her eyes as she explored his crown, “Do you enjoy my fingers grazing your scalp Dieter?”

“Abso-fuckin’…Yes. Yes.” Bravo panted, his hand trailed from her lower back to her round ass, filling his hand and started to knead it as he had her breasts. “Maya, what time do you absolutely need to be at that family brunch thing?” His face emerged out of her belly and peered up at her, his eyes pleading. If she came with him, he might not need the orange juice for the press interactions, though he may inspire other questions that had nothing to do with his projects. She cupped his face and opened her eyes, Maya felt she could be too easily swayed by his eyes so she focused on his lips and how pink they were. Also a bad move. 

“Need to be there by one. You can stop by after your press thing. After brunch, there’s going to just going to be some family gathering stuff and then I plan to make it an early dinner so I can bail. Though I’ll need to bring the bridesmaid dress because my mother and the bride’s mother will want to see all of us in them.” A long sigh followed. He could tell she wasn't looking forward to this at all, was it the dress itself, the people, the comparison with the other bridesmaids, both mothers? He’ll see how long he’d need to be at the golf event and as soon as he can, he’s getting out of there to come get Maya out of there. “You need to get ready though, then I can get ready.” An empty chuckle left her lips as she released his head and Dieter followed suit and let her go. He rolled to his side of the bed and retrieved his phone. It was only half after ten. He let her know and went downstairs to heat up the pizza and eat it, Maya found her phone on the kitchen island, it was at five percent so she plugged it in when she went up to her room briefly. 

Sitting and eating pizza together, they laughed and Dieter pouted when she brought up Oscar Issac again. He threw a mushroom at her, hitting her arm. She picked it off and ate it as they played around and ate. Finally when they finished, they went to their respective rooms and showered. Dieter put on a button down short sleeve shirt that was split down the middle - one half had zebra print and the other half had cheetah print on it. Daisy, who had been MIA the entire night nipped at Dieter’s ankles before he slipped on his gray boxer briefs, the elastic settling just under his round pouch of a belly and sitting on his hips. He picked up the goat and kissed her forehead. “You traitor. You left me last night. Still love you though.” The small goat baahed at him and licked his chin, its rough tongue made him laugh. He needed to pick out pants though, he didn’t really care so he pulled out a black pair when he heard a soft knock at his door. “Come in, you don’t need to knock Kit Kat. It’s only us two here and Daisy.”

Retrieving his black slacks, he set Daisy on the bed and the pants as well before sitting on the bed and putting on some white socks and his pants. He had the pants around his knees when he turned to see Maya who stood in the doorway looking away shyly. A grin crossed his face and her spun around and pulled the back of his shirt up, wiggling his ass at her. He heard her laugh, “Better than Oscar’s right?” She shook her head and he pulled up his pants and buttoned them, bitting his lips in frustration.

“Objectively I can’t lie to you Sugar Lips.” Maya chuckled, walking to sit on the bed and pet Daisy. She wore a dress that had a deep V in front, the base was white and it had lines of gold, green, brown ovals and various splashes of orange. It was nearly to the floor so only her feet poked out when she walked. Her hair was pinned up in a neat bun and she wore gold earrings. It was the fuchsia color on her lips that drew the most attention, it made her lips appear fuller then they already were. “But you’ve got other things Oscar doesn’t so don’t fret so much and I’ll try not to tease you about it.”

Dieter plopped down next to her as Daisy hopped to the floor, sauntering around. “What other things huh? And with that lipstick, I should call you Sugar Lips.” He laid his hand over hers and he remembered, “I don’t have your number Maya. I can’t send you pictures of Daisy or eggplant emojis.” 

“You’re impossible. It can’t just be texts and memes? Eggplants, really?” 

“Yeah and maybe some of the things that might be better than that man. Stupid bubble butt.” He stood to retrieve his phone and sat back down, unlocked it and handed it to Maya. “Put your number in and save yourself as…” He thought for a moment. 

“Mi Reina (My queen).” 

“Oh? What does that mean?” She did as he asked and entered her number and saved it.

Bravo laid his head on her shoulder and spoke into her ear, “I’ll tell you tonight while you’re rubbing my head again and I’m in your lap.” He licked her earlobe and scooped up Daisy who had returned, making his way to the door. One hand sent her a text to ensure she has his number too. “Let me know what you save me as Kit Kat. We should head downstairs. It’s eleven thirty.” The grin never left his face and he felt confident he had enticed her enough. Maya stopped on the way down to grab her phone, purse, brown sandals and a garment bag before meeting Dieter downstairs on the living room couch. Draping the bag over the back of the couch she sat next to Dieter and cut her eyes at him.

“Despite you being impossible at times,” Her hand touched her cool earlobe that previously had his tongue on it, “it’s also one of the charms you possess, Dieter.”

“I have charms now? Not just impossible?”

“You know you do. That mouth of yours is- ” Dieter places one hand at the side of her thighs and parted his lips after licking them. 

“My mouth is what, Maya?” He taunts, he leans like he’s going to kiss her but stops. “I can’t mess up your lipstick of course. Tell me what it does for you bebita (baby girl).” Lips graze her neck and his hands move up to her thighs, his tongue trails down to just above her breasts. Warm breath against her skin, her hands snaked to hold his soft sides. “Let me hear what I heard this morning. I’ll be thinking about it while answering those asinine questions. Por favor (please).” His chin touched her breast and he groaned, hearing Maya trying to stifle her moans only had him press his fingers into her thighs more. Dieter used his teeth to nibble gently on her breast which made her finally give him what he wanted, a deep bellow of pleasure. 

“Your mouth is dangerous, shit Dieter. Please, it’s almost time-” One hand was moving up to his head but she stopped herself and just held the back of his neck. She couldn’t pull him away, her back was curving into his face.

“Just a little longer cariño (dear).” His teeth started on her other breasts softly nibbling before a ‘swip’ was heard. Dieter stopped and peered over the back of the couch. Daisy had tugged on Maya’s garment bag and pulled it to the floor. “Daisy, you really are a traitor.” he reluctantly stood up and picked up the garment bag, draping it back over the couch as Maya straightened her dress back out.

“Daisy’s helping both of us out. That should be saved for when we’re alone.” Zack and two drivers were making their way in the villa. Dieter hadn’t heard them come in at all. The click of his tongue told the assistant that he likely had interrupted something but there was a schedule to keep. 

“Um, sir. Sorry to interrupt, but we should leave. Good morning Ms. Maya.” He smiled brightly. Dieter sighed and gave Kit Kat a peck on the cheek, she took his hand and whispered to him,

“I think I’m going to move up the time table on fucking you Sugar Lips.” Bravo’s eyes widened, she remembered saying that? Maya’s other hand gave his ass a solid squeeze. “For the record, I like your ass better than Oscar’s.” With that, she walked out with one of the drivers who carried her purse and garment bag as she hopped in the car and departed. Zack gave his boss a few minutes, thankfully he had built in time just in case the award winner wasn’t ready, but he ended up clearing his throat to bring Dieter back to reality. He made sure to grab his orange juice on the way out. The star followed his assistant and sat in the back of the car with Daisy, uncomfortably hard and looking out the window thinking of a way to bail on this event and drop by that brunch.

Maya wasn’t fairing much better, shifting around in the back of the car as the villa disappeared behind her. Her hands ran along the garment bag and then her thighs where Dieter’s hands had been. “Smooth bastard. I’ll need to see if they have a CVS or Walgreens here for some condoms. I can’t get it out of my head from this morning. I won’t tease him as much when I get back.” A soft smile graced her lips as she watched the trees slowly change into buildings, getting closer to the hotel. The Hilton was a nice hotel yes, but she was only looking forward to seeing her mother, father and brothers. Both sides of the now joining family proved to be insufferable at the engagement and bridal shower. It’s why she skipped the bachelorette party, a fact that the bride’s mother never failed to mention. 

Arriving at the hotel in a black audi did give her an air of satisfaction as some of the family members watched her walk in, her white dress with its pattern flowing behind her in the warm sun. Maya made her way to the main room where she knew brunch was in progress and spotted her mother, making a bee line for the short woman in her four inch heels, gray dress and gold bangles and rings. She wore them due to the residual effects of her rheumatoid arthritis but moved like a woman thirty years her junior.

“Hey Sweetie! You made it! I love the lipstick. I wasn’t sure about the dress but it suits you. You look like you’re floating.” They embraced and shared a hug, rocking side to side before they parted, holding each other’s hands. 

“Hey ma, you look beautiful. There still some food around?” Maya asked and her mother shook her head. ‘This child’ she likely thought, but she did notice a small red mark at the top one of her breasts.

“I think someone may have eaten you. You have any concealer Maya? If not, I can grab you some before they come over.” She dropped her hands and walked over to a chair where her purse was a few feet away. Removing a sponge and some liquid makeup, swished her hand to indicate for her to hold her dress to the side slightly to apply the makeup. She did and blended it out with the sponge, once happy with her work, then had Maya adjust her dress again. “Is whoever this is here or coming to the wedding?”

A long sigh left Kit Kat’s lips, “Maybe, I don’t know about today, but probably later this week. He’s…different. But it’s good I think.” Maya’s mother watches as a smile crept along her face, whoever it was, this man was someone who made her happy, which was very good.

“Well, go get some food and eat. The family’s going to bop around a bit more and then they want to do the final fitting for the bridesmaid dresses. Why it couldn’t be done weeks ago is beyond me? She maybe shouldn’t have changed colors so many times.” Her mother began to gripe but stopped when she saw the look in her daughter’s face. It wasn’t the time, the complaining could happen after things were said and done. She went to track down her husband who was taking advantage of the free wine samples offered until two in the afternoon. It was one forty five so he was entitled to a full fifteen minutes of wine drinking and would not accept anything less. 

Maya went to eat some sausage, eggs, and pancakes, grabbing two of each as she had eaten pizza already this morning. It was then that the bride appeared, greeting her warmly. She wasn’t a mean or annoying woman. Well, a little annoying, but only because she didn’t listen to any of the suggestions. Which yes, it’s her wedding, Maya understood that, but she wasn’t the only larger bridesmaid and the three of them with Maya included, weren’t into the strapless design or the dress being made in lace with a slip under it. You’re in Hawaii, in a humid ass place and needed to wear shapewear in addition to a tight dress was….now you sound like your mother.

The two women hugged and briefly chatted about the trip over here. The bride said hers was smooth and really enjoyed spending time with Michael, Maya’s brother. Nodding, Maya stated that her journey here had a few hiccups but turned out to be great, knowing that she wouldn't ask any further. Maya slowly ate her food, knowing that the fitting was imminent and followed Elyssa, the bride, up to one of the eighth floor rooms where all the other bridesmaids were waiting. None of them looked excited or even tried to keep a neutral face. What had happened?

“We’re going with another new color and style ladies!” Elyssa said excitedly, everyone groaned simultaneously. This fitting just became infinitely worse.

Dieter was trying to hold off on drinking his juice. He wanted to save it for either a really tiresome interview or if he had to talk to anyone about whoever the hell was playing golf. He didn’t care, he was here because they wanted to use his appearance to promote the tournament and he could talk about some of the projects he was producing. He hadn’t found any roles recently that he wanted to be a part of since the Cliff Beasts fiasco and into writing, painting and producing. He was talking with one interviewer who was asking about some of his artwork, someone who actually bothered to do some research. It was a fun conversation, until that douche popped up. Was he even supposed to be here?

Oscar Issac - who beat him out for the Star Wars role he wanted and could frustratingly play guitar and sing. This bastard who won some nonsense poll about who had better curls between Bravo and Issac and was sporting a full well-groomed beard with splashes of gray in it. And now some other interview has mentioned his ‘cakes’ from the last movie Oscar did where he spends a fair amount with no pants on. Dieter may be in a one-sided beef with the man, but he was going to keep calm. Be cool. Just grab his orange juice to chill out. 

His assistant Zack had it though and he wasn’t nearby. “Fuck.” Dieter muttered under his breath as Oscar walked over, opening his arms for a hug. Turning on the charm, he hugged him back and patted his back, a little too hard. 

“Hey Bravo, how are you? I heard you might be here. It’s good to see you.” A pearly white smile beamed from him. Go away. I want nothing to do with you.

“Fine. Just interviews and press. What’s new with you Issac? Singing about some more hippos?” Dieter meant it to be playful, but the vitriol was clear. Oscar picked up on it and he smirked, his eyebrows raising.

“Did another stint on broadway. You ever think trying it out Bravo?” Oscar stepped closer to Dieter,  “Oh, that’s right, you’ve flamed out and can’t hack it anymore. Doing your little scribbles and paints. Cabrón (bastard).” Dieter sucked his teeth, tapping his foot as fists formed at his sides. Wasn’t one sided after all, arrogant bastard. The camera around them snapped pictures of the two men smiling and talking, unaware of the battle for the last word taking place. Daisy trotted over and took her place near Bravo’s feet. 

Oscar bent down to pet Daisy which she allowed and Dieter followed suit, it was an excellent photo op, the pair of them with a baby goat. After a few pictures, Daisy walked a foot away and the two men continued taking pictures flashing peace signs while crouched. 

“Say what you will about my acting, but my art has already made millions and I can do it well after I retire from acting. What are you gonna do? Hop on a Christmas album with Mariah Carey when she re-emerges this winter?” Dieter continued as he stood back up beaming, “You and your hippos can only dream hijo de punta (son of a bitch).” Bravo waved to the cameras, when Oscar went to stand he was met with pain. 

Not from his knees, but a bite from one Daisy who maybe was going after the back pocket of his suit pants, but got a chunk of his ass in addition to the pocket. Issac let out a loud scream as Dieter laughed, this was the best thing to ever happen at a press event. It wasn’t long before he was escorted out with his goat, assistant, and his juice he never got to drink. The organizers confirmed that yes, he would still be paid as had done the interview and pictures and that’s mainly what he needed to know, as great as it was to see Oscar finally get his, he didn’t show up there for free. 

“Tell the driver to go to the Hilton hotel. I have someone to surprise. Isn’t that right Daisy? You’re not a traitor afterall. I hope you get the taste out of your mouth.” Dieter turned to his assistant Zack who just told the driver the address of the Hilton. “You got a snack for Daisy? She couldn’t have Oscar’s taste on her lips.” His large hand rubbed the goat’s head as she softly baahed and nuzzled into his chest. Zack got out a bag that had some snacks, giving the goat some carrots to nibble on. He held onto the small animal for Dieter as he hopped out of the SUV once the arrived at the hotel. He entered and asked at the front desk about a wedding party, they pointed him in the direction of the grand ballroom where some people were standing around, some were dancing and others were eating. It seemed that they may be in between events but he didn’t see her. He knew she’d be easy to pick out in the dress he saw this morning and her figure alone. A hand appeared on his shoulder and he turned to see the top of a head so he looked down.

“You looking for someone? Are you a guest of someone hun?” A warm voice asked him, he looked down to see an older woman with reddish brown hair looking up at him with a smile. Dieter noted that she had a ring on nearly every finger and multiple bracelets on both wrists. He nodded and she chuckled, it was similar to Maya.

“I am. Would you happen to be related to Maya?” he asked as she lowered her hand, she now wore a navy blue dress with suede heels, three inches this time.

“I’m her mother, Yvette. I take it she’s staying with you. She wasn’t sure if you were coming or not. Glad that you made it.” She started to walk down a hallway. “Follow me, I’ll show you where she is. Your name hun?” Ms. Yvette looked back and Dieter scratched the back of his head, he figured things would be fine. Meeting her mom was a little weird, but it was her brother’s wedding, he’d been hoping Maya would be with him when he met her but it didn’t appear bad yet. Dieter and Yvette rode the elevator to the eighth floor where the fittings had still been taking place.

Previous: Chapter Two

Next: Chapter Four

The tag list: @katw474 @readingiskeepingmegoing

@fhatbhabie @morallyinept @pedritapascal @pascalsanctuary @nissaimmortal @grogusmum @theywhowriteandknowthings @beefrobeefcal @goodwithcheese @iamasaddie @megamindsecretlair @pamasaur @pedrodascal @marcus-is-my-muse @clawdee @trulybetty @perotovar @joelslegalwhre @josephquinnswhore @mandoisapunk @secretelephanttattoo @for-a-longlongtime @legendary-pink-dot @sin-djarin @maggiemayhemnj @rhoorl @sp00kymulderr @linzels-blog @joelmillers-whore @guelyury @laurfilijames @missladym1981 @pamasaur @alltheglitterandtheroar @din-djarins-riduur @daddy-dins-girl @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @yorksgirl @saturn-rings-writes @gwendibleywrites @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @musings-of-a-rose @soft-persephone @javierpena-inatacvest @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @magpiepills @handspunyarns @i-own-loki

[balshumetsbaragouin]

Valentine's Core Exchange Gift: Hybrid Affinity

I can finally talk about this! I am excited to have been able to take part in the first Valentine's Core Exchange. My giftee for this event is the amazing @nursal1060writes! I hope you enjoy your gift! Only the first chapter will be posted on AO3, this week, but they get the Full Monty in DMs. Thanks @valentines-core-exchange for connecting us!

Link: Hybrid Affinity Rating: Mature Characters: Danny Fenton, Vlad Masters Relationship: Danny & Vlad(Badger Cereal) Warnings: Implied/Referenced Torture, Past Torture, Torture, Psychological Torture, Medical Experimentation, Medical Torture, Non-Consensual Drug Use Chapter Word Count: 2,577 Story Word Total: 20k

Summary:

A momentary lapse of attention, a weapon's blast grounding him, an agent's boot heading towards his jaw…

Danny has been the 'primary research subject' of the Area 23 facility for the past three weeks. Since he was captured, he's had no contact with the outside world, and no chance of escape. After complaining about a lack of conversational partners, his heated cage finds a second occupant: Vlad Plasmius.

With his last chance at escape captured with him, Danny's hope dwindled until he heard the other halfa promise he had a plan. The only problem: He doesn't trust Vlad.

Have a sneak peek at the story below the cut!

The gun at the back of his head pressed deeper into the base of his skull. “I’m moving.”

“Not fast enough, ghost.” The agent tapped the spot right over his brain stem, “Keep dragging your feet, and I’ll save the government the expense of containing you.” The hiss of the pneumatic doors ahead of them sent tingles over his skin. The air on the other side smelled like the ecto-suppressant they pumped inside, burnt acrid chemicals, and days old sweat. 

“I’m floating; you see me floating forward, right?” He stopped just on the other side of the barrier, long enough for the scan, and moved again when the light flashed green above the entrance. The hum of the ghost shield grated his ear drums as it scrapped over his skin. “No need to be so hostile.” The door clicked shut behind him, the agent no longer bothering to threaten him once he reached the inside of The Oven. “Whatever.” Danny floated the rest of the way into the heated metal box and tried to decide which wall he’d sizzle on for the next few hours. He’d favored the one facing the door when he’d first arrived, but the heating element sat closer to the surface. The sadists running this circle of hell designed it that way. Their scientists were probably measuring how long he’d put up with more pain to feel ‘secure’ or something. 

He hovered in the middle of the room, eyeing the coolest wall, with an ache building up in his core. He decided to split the difference and sat against one of the walls perpendicular to the door. A low hiss filled the room as he sank down to the floor and leaned back. “You know, you don’t have to BBQ me. I’d be happy to answer questions without being spit-roasted.” The agents on the other side of the monitoring equipment couldn’t hear him. He’d made a show of cursing and insulting them the first… however long, until he was hoarse. They’d only told him they didn’t receive audio after he couldn’t speak. They said, ‘we’re not interested in any lies you ghost vermin want to tell’ and sneered down at him like he’d become a bug that learned to speak. They did monitor his energy levels, though. When he’d attempted an ecto-ray, a whole host of guns popped out of some panels in the ceiling and hosed him down with molten misery. The liquid didn’t start hot, not like the walls, but as soon as it touched him…

He rubbed at the spots along his forearms that got the worst of the spray. The jumpsuit still laid odd over those spots, like the ectoplasm underneath refused to come back all the way. He poked around the area, feeling the way the latex enmeshed with the healed flesh under it. Other areas stuck because he was slicked down with sweat, but here it felt glued down into the muscles. He leaned forward and frowned down at the half-melted state of his boots. The soles of his feet and the back of him always took the worst of it whenever he was back in the cage. Still, it was better than being in the labs. The blazing temperatures and grating silence granted a peace that left him when they wanted to stick tubes down his throat or needles into his skin. “I could even convince myself this is pleasant if I couldn’t smell that burning ectoplasm.”

[dailyrandomwriter]

Day 753

Randomly, one day, because the thought came to me (as it sometimes does with my brain matter), I checked my supply cupboard to see how much of my in-use medical supplies I have left. I have a system where there are backup medical supplies kept in a closet. When I order supplies, I then take those down and put them into the cupboard and drawers to be used, and then when the new supplies come in, put them up in the closet.

This ensures that if there is ever a backorder I have at least a month grace for the new supplies to come in. When this happens it often means I just have to order new supplies again sooner than I would expect to ensure a proper backup supply.

I do this for all of my supplies, except for lubrication because it’s a very common item. Most places will have at least one box floating around somewhere, and since pharmacy policy is to call me when they’re on backorder to let me know, I generally have some time to come up with a plan.

Unless the order got messed up, which was why I now was facing the reality that I’m probably two weeks away from ordering new supplies, despite the fact I have a full order of lubrication. Why? Because that is the only supply I do not order backups of, due to the fact they’re easy to get a hold of.

If you knew they were on backorder.

Which I did not, and no one told me, because they also ordered the wrong size of lubrication. 

It has been an experience for the past two weeks,, as mentioned in my post about not attending my game meetup, my portable, individually, sanitary lubrication packets were on backorder, and I didn’t know until I opened up the box that contained my new order of supplies.

In which I will fully admit to being a dumbass and not opening it right away. I trusted that what I ordered was in, and didn’t double check when it arrived. So imagine my surprise. Instead of six boxes of 100 individual packets, I had one box of six large tubes. Using a tube isn't horrible (in fact it lasts longer than the box of packets) but you do have to be careful of contamination. 

Something that is difficult to do out in public. I’ve complained about this before, most accessible washrooms are designed for mobility needs only, not for medical needs. This means you’re balancing supplies off of toilet paper dispensers, those metal trash things installed to the walls, on top of toilets or (if you’re in an individual bathroom) doing the stretch to the sink to grab the medical supply wrapper. There would be a non-zero chance I would drop a tube on the floor and lose that whole tube. 

So going out was a problem.

Complicating matters was that for reasons no one understood, I was charged for the right supplies, but the wrong ones were ordered and given to me. This made refunding difficult because they couldn’t refund me for the tubes, because they didn’t charge me for the tubes. In fact, I got a free tube because that was the only thing I could use while they re-ordered those supplies, with the understanding that I had already paid for them…

Because they couldn’t refund me so easily.

Apparently, no one got the memo… twice.

Not accounting for the fact that for a bit, no one knew where the fuck they went to.

I got a call two weeks later, on a Friday, asking if I had received my medical lube, the answer was no. So the poor guy promised to call me back once he figured out where it was, as it had arrived. Late afternoon rolled around, he called, said it had arrived and since I had to go out anyways, I said I would pick them up. Normally I get them, and the 10 other boxes of medical supplies delivered but it was just lube. Also, there was a stop right outside the pharmacy on my usual route and I have a rolly cart.

Not a problem.

I showed up, with my rolly cart, ready to drag the shipping box full of boxes of lube back home, and at first everything was fine. Until, I noticed, because the box was open, there was a receipt in the box. If I had been two decades younger, I would have not mentioned it out of fear of being wrong, but as it was, medical supplies are expensive and so I asked him.

Did you charge me for that?

The answer was yes, in which I had to explain that I never got that refund, these supplies were already paid for. So he had to give me the refund that I didn’t get before. 

Fine, it was fine. I went home, put the supplies away right away and refilled my travel bags so I can go to my game meetup on Sunday. Everything was fine, the weekend was great, I had fun at my outing. 

No problem.

Monday rolls around, and I get a call, it is from the pharmacy. From someone completely different saying that my supplies have arrived. 

What?

I told her that I already picked up my supplies on Saturday, did they order double? She pauses, and goes to check, tells me there were no notes saying I had received my supplies. She will also give me a refund.

Because the pharmacy has my credit card number they charged me for supplies I already picked up.

Supplies, I should not be paying for anyways because I didn’t get a refund the first time.

I probably at some point need to check my credit card to make sure I don’t owe more money than I actually do, but it was a reminder that my pharmacy since Covid has been a hot mess. I’m not angry about it, and was at the time more amused.

Though I do realize as I’m writing this, that that whole thing was very unacceptable, the amount of errors was actually pretty bad for a single order.

[crazycatsiren]

People on the internet are fucking wild.

What gives you the right to just make assumptions, when you know absolutely fucking nothing about the person behind the Tumblr blog.

My grandfather is dying. He's been in the hospital since before Christmas. Any time now, he could be breathing his last. We've been preparing for the worst for a while. I've been so distraught this week. I've been desperate for distractions.

I'm autistic. Commercial aviation is a special interest of mine. I've watched numerous documentaries on MH370, and last night, I discovered that Netflix just released its own special documentary on it. Unable to sleep due to stress and worry, I stayed up and watched the whole thing. And on the show, they discussed the numerous wild and outrageous conspiracy theories that have been floating around everywhere since day one, which made me go holy gods what the hell are people thinking.

So that's what's been on my mind today. Since I often post about my special interests on my Tumblr blog, I figured some more diversion would do me good.

They say the age of technology has rotted brains, and I've tried to not be that millennial. But it's really not that far fetched. Kids these days literally don't know how to interact with people. They aren't even able to think of people behind usernames and URLs as real people. They think through a screen alone they can have a whole human being's entire life and character figured out solid, that there is nothing more to them than an online persona, an internet appearance. People aren't even people to them. Just social media profiles.

Do you think of me as a real person? With a real story to tell? Who is turning to her special interests and her blog to momentarily take her mind off of her grief and distract her from the heaviness in her heart? No, you don't. You want to lecture me about "empathy"? Are you even capable of having any to begin with, when you clearly can't even consider the fact that the people on social media are real people?

[kimium]

Earlier this week I made a personal post about how I'd love to talk about my KHR (Katekyo Hitman Reborn!) fics. So, here I am, making the post. I have a sizable collection of 10051 fics (24 works plus some snippets) meaning I have plenty to discuss! There isn't a formula behind these rambles, but maybe my ramblings can either stir interest to check out the anime/manga OR my fics.

(Note: 10051 is the ship name to Byakuran/Shouichi. KHR ships are simplified into numbers based on the kanji in the character's names. Example: The "Bya" in Byakuran can mean "100". "Shou" can be read as "5" and "Ichi" can be read as "1". Thus, 10051 is their ship name.)

Let's Start! This is long, so it's under a Read More Cut!

My Ramblings about my 10051 fics (In no particular order)

The Only One I Want

My first 10051 fic! I remember the time I wrote this I was into NBC Hannibal. That influence shines through as I explicitly wrote Byakuran killing someone and displaying the body to Shouichi in a manner that would make Hannibal proud. Truly a horrific sight. Even though this is my first 10051 fic, it holds a special place in my heart.

Would I ever redo the fic? Not directly, but I'd have no issue taking the core idea (Byakuran's jealousy causing him to murder someone for "getting too close to Shouichi") and reworking it.

Flawed Logic (It's True Because You Want It to be True)

I think this fic is where I truly hammered down 1) my interpretation of Byakuran's perspective on Shouichi and 2) Shouichi's perspective on Byakuran. A fixed point is the perfect way to describe Byakuran's perspective!

I also loved writing Shouichi hiding from Byakuran. If someone were to ask my opinion on the "bad" timelines and how Shouichi is living in them I'd point to this fic.

Personal Server

Honestly the entire time I wrote this fic I had a very specific restaurant in mind. Sadly, it doesn't exist anymore, but the vibe and atmosphere of the restaurant remains in my heart and has seeped a little bit into this fic. Though, to be honest, I'd love to redo this fic's idea. While I like the direction it went, it didn't quite hit some of the ideas floating in my brain. Perhaps, in the future I will take the core idea of this story and write another fic.

Monochrome and Lavender

Many times when asked "what is your favourite fic" I dart around the question with "I like all my fics". While that's not a lie (I think all my stories have their own merits or reveal my thought/head space at the time of writing) this fic is by far my favourite KHR fic.

Where do I even start? Magical curses are a trope Right Up my Alley ever since I was twelve and picked up volume 4 of CLAMP's Tsubasa. (I read the first four volumes out of order!) Next, the visual representation of Byakuran's obsession?? Shouichi truly cannot escape reality this time. In other fics he has the luxury of lying to himself. How can he lie here where his vision is black and white except for Byakuran's signature shade of purple? What about the idea of "love is blind" only Byakuran's love is blinding Shouichi? Just... the symbolism is endless.

The Unspoken "K" Word in the Room

My favourite part about this fic is how something horrible has happened (Shouichi being kidnapped by Byakuran) but the entire situation is treated as a "mild" inconvenience. There is humour yet underneath the humour is rotting, festering horror and terror as Shouichi is powerless to stop Byakuran. Easily one of my favourite dynamics between them.

An Unofficial Prize (The Last Extra Hours Spent Together)

At the time of writing this story I think this idea had been swirling in my brain for two full years. I am (still) obsessed over this fic's premise. Byakuran adding Shouichi as a "prize" to Choice? How could that idea not send shivers down my spine? Make my heart thump and beat rapidly? Send me daydreaming about the idea consistently? It's too perfect. There is a high chance I'd rewrite this story or the core idea again.

Though the only snag in this fic was my worrying I was writing "too close to canon" at certain moments. Whenever I diverge from a specific canon point I always bog myself down with "accuracy". I had to rewatch some KHR to get the lines and beats of the scene perfect.

Grounding the Sun

Another story I had circulating in my brain for years! I always wanted to write a story as Spanner! I love him so much and what's a better story than Spanner witnessing Byakuran and Shouichi's relationship as an outsider?? I remember this fic taking so much out of me though! It was a challenge but in the end I think I wrote a fun fic!

Can I help you?

TIME LOOP. TIME LOOP! Need I say more? This was another story I had circulating in my brain for years! Mostly because I wanted to write Byakuran with a more "supernatural" vibe. Also, the tone of this fic is easily my favourite out of all my KHR ones. I am always here for an unsettling tone... and a time loop. Big sucker for those.

You're Welcome, Byakuran

I love this fic because it's the result of an elaborate inside joke with @someobscurereference where it all started with "Okay but what if Kikyo runs a Beauty YouTube Channel in the good timeline?" The humour that comes out of it! Priceless.

The Blue Bottle (Warming Up in Snippets)

Probably one of my lesser known stories, this fic is Ch. 11 of my first Warming Up in Snippets collection. My favourite part of the fic was how I wrote it in present tense rather than past tense. I also adore the idea of Shouichi willingly keeping himself ignorant and Byakuran facilitating the poor decision.

Delivery

Once more a fic with a story that had been circulating in my brain for years. (I'm not joking when I say I am thinking of KHR fics all the time.) Anyways, there is something so compelling to me about writing Shouichi who just... goes to Byakuran of his own volition. No running or hiding, which as I said earlier, is my default "Shouichi" mode when dealing with Byakuran. This idea was so compelling I wrote it again in my newest story Total Percentage: 4%.

The Envelope

Mark my words: I will one day write a completely unhinged Shouichi who has fully given up on escaping Byakuran. I will write him in a dark head space where he decides "If I cannot escape Byakuran I will use his obsession and have him kill bad people. I will bat my eyelashes at him and tell him someone made me feel awful and without fail Byakuran will kill them. No questions asked."

Anyways, this fic was a slight dip into exploring that angle for a fic. This one softly dips its toes into the water and I love it.

And that's all I have to say! Was there a KHR fic I missed talking about that you want me to comment on? Feel free to send an ask and I'll gladly talk about it! I will be more than delighted to do so!

[koolkat9]

August headcannons? (Any Fandom tbh)

I take it as random headcanons I got in August? If that's not what you meant anon, feel free to clarify. As much as I would love to do something for Honkai Star Rail for a change. I literally have no specific headcanons to discuss. Honkai and it's characters just live rent free in my brain. So Hetalia it is.

Ludwig tried to foster dogs, but he stopped after the second one because they were too hard to let go of. Honestly, I've been wanting to give him a dachshund because I've heard some cute headcanons floating around, so maybe the dachshund was a pup he was fostering but he got attached so he adopted it despite already having 3 dogs. And that was the last foster he did because Gil sat him down and was like "Stop, you don't need more dogs."

Alfred is a very good ventriloquist

Matthew misses living off the land. Having his own vegetable garden, hunting and fishing for his own meet, etc. His nation duties often leave him little time to properly do it. Though when he has free time, he'll hunt and keep some of the meat frozen for the coming days/weeks. And he still keeps up with his vegetable garden at least

Francis has a fear of airplanes

Matthew visits Arthur regularly and they have tea together. Matthew just worries about Arthur feeling lonely. (this was inspired by this post I saw saying that HK and Seychelles prank call Arthur, but he doesn't realize it's a prank and basically chats with them about the most boring topics and if that's not lonely old man behaviour I don't know what is. So Matt starts visiting regularly because of it)

Arthur was the one to help Ludwig embrace his love for teddy bears. Lud always felt ashamed until he found out Arthur loves stuffed animals and since he loves and admirers Arthur he starts to realize that he shouldn't be ashamed

Less of a headcanon, more of an image. Little Mattie helping Arthur in the garden.

[saraannsworld]

It has been a while since I have posted on here. I needed time to find my balance and heal my soul. I have learned over the last few years how important the health of your soul is. How much you are doing mentally and spiritually. Here is my story of how I got to where I am right now.

During the end of my time in collage I went through a traumatic event that changed the path of my life. Since my way to dealing with it was to put it in a box, not tell anyone and keep going. The trouble with trauma is that it takes over your heart and soul if you do not treat or face it. So that meant I experienced one trauma after another until years later ( 15 to be exact) I was at a point I no longer knew who I was. What I was doing or how I got to this place in life. I was a stranger to myself and in some ways to the people around me.

My PTSD was so bad that my Mom found a trauma therapist for me to see. She was a hour drive away and I think that time to myself ( I was a single parent now) was healing. She was a good therapist but, I knew I needed something different. Something more so, I started searching the web on how to heal from trauma. I found a trauma program not to far from where I lived with my parents and started the best decision and hardest path I had actually decided for myself in years. I learned so much about myself and how trauma lives inside you. My therapist explained trauma in the brain to me one day, and I will never forget what she said because those words changed my outlook on my life so far and my future.

“ If you think of your brain like a file cabinet each part has its own file, body function, hopes and inspirations, expectations, motor skills, ex. But then you have a trauma happen and your brain has no idea how to file it because it has no place that it fits. So I am going to help your brain figure out how to file away your trauma.”

In that moment everything clicked. I had this free radical floating around my brain making it all confused. The more events of trauma I added the more radicals to confuse and break apart the person that I use to be. This was the moment I started to heal. I started to put my life back together. Find Sara again. Create a new path and a new direction from where I was. A year later I was back at a place I had not been in a very long time. I was ready to move forward for me and my son. My soul was finally healing and I needed it to keep healing. To do that I knew I needed to leave Colorado, because to many bad things had happened to me there. I knew I wanted to live somewhere like a smaller town or city. I knew it needed to not be too hard for me to get my son and I to our family’s summer cottage, and back to Colorado to visit family. So I started my search. I knew art and creativity being part of the city was important to me. I first checked out Iowa City, Iowa. It was a college town creative and small. A short tip to the places I wanted to be able to travel to. So with $500 and some food stamps in my pocket I drove out for a 48 hour trip to see what I thought. It was not what I thought I would find. Something about it was off although to this day I don’t know what but it was not it. My soul was not singing.

About a month or so later I traveled up to our family cottage in Conway, MI. I had heard things about Traveres City, MI. It checked all my boxes so I drove down to see what I thought. I remember driving around the neighborhoods. I walking around downtown and saw all the art and local things happening. My soul was singing now. This was where my future would start, where I could live my life again. Two months later my Mom and I had found me a place to live and I was moving in. I got a job in the beginning of Covid when everything was still not back to full working more.

For four years I worked as a Team Lead at Panera. I left in my last year to be an Assistant Manager at in Independent Home. I ended up running everything in the building after being there for two weeks. It was one horrible thing happening after another, and no support from the company. Once it started to make my PTSD come back and my son’s anxiety worse I quite. I went back to Panera. Only this time it was different. I now believed in myself and the full capacity of what I was capable of. After walking into a work day of disfunction, and that underlying feeling that I could do so much better with my time and talents I quite. And this leads me to now.

It has been almost three months since I quite. Money has not been this tight in a very long time but, I have not felt my soul like this maybe ever. I have started my own art line which you can view at www.soulstainedink.org and I have started walking almost every morning ( 5.45 Miles). I am doing Somatic Yoga at night to rebalance myself before sleeping. During the day I create my art and work on my shop. I make some money doing yard work for neighbors and, selling on my Soul Stained Ink shops. I am looking to get certified as a life coach and help others find there path to a place where there soul can smile also.

I hope you continue to follow my journey and can find inspiration or knowledge and if nothing else learn about another humans experience through this thing we call life.

[kaffeebaby]

What kinda stuff are you writing about!!

Most of the stuff I'm writing right now are better call saul fanfics. I've always been more of a fanfic writer as opposed to making original characters and worlds.

A lot of my fanfic ideas are the "What if this happened instead?" genre. Like what if Gus rehired Gale and made him work with both Walt and Jesse? That would change a lot of stuff, and I had explored some ideas months ago, but I kinda stopped thinking about it as much as other ideas that were more interesting to me started crowding my mind. I don't want this post to get too long but also >:3c

Lately, I've been trying to come up with ideas for a fic where Chuck forgets to cancel his appointment when he's having his last breakdown, so he misses his appointment and his therapist shows up at his house concerned. And she ends up getting him to a hospital where he can be treated before he has the chance to do anything worse than tear his house apart. That event would completely change everything else that happens in the show, and would even impact the stuff that happens in BrBa, so it's been a lot to think about. I basically have to figure out a way for Chuck's life to become livable for him, plus I have to figure out how Saul can still happen if Chuck is still there and Kim doesn't divorce him due to Howard and Lalo never happening, and. Many other things.

But I have a rough outline of different things that need to happen, and I'm the type of person that daydreams or fantasizes a lot throughout the day, especially at night, so it's nice to have a pet project that has some interesting challenges. I get to justify thinking about blorbos all day because it goes back to something I want to write about.

The one wip I mentioned in my tags was a Chuck and Howard smut that I was writing during January this year. I planned to have it finished and posted on Valentine's Day, but I got the stomach flu like two weeks before that which completely ruined any ability to write people having sex. I tried to keep writing after I wasn't sick anymore, but it was kinda done for at that point, since the deadline was actually really motivating me. I've thought about trying to write more on it again, and I've even considered posting it in its half finished state with an author's note that it's not done. There are very few Chuck and Howard fics, and I only ship them recreationally, so at first I wasn't so upset and not finishing and posting the work. But the more time drags on, the more I feel like there are people who would actually like to read my rarepair fanfic, even if I posted it unfinished with a warning and the possibility I'd finish it later. It works where it is right now, but it's very much not as long as I wanted it to be and there's a lot more stuff I wanted to add that I just don't feel the motivation for at this point. But also that doesn't mean I should keep it locked up forever.

I have some other fic ideas that I've been floating around, but my brain has been consumed by my Chuck Lives AU for a while and it's kinda hard to focus on other stuff. I do have a google doc of all my fic ideas though, and I visit it every now and then when I'm in the mood to write or want to refresh what all of my ideas are. I've been a lot better lately at actually writing down ideas as they come to me so that I don't forget them later.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 308: VIBE: CHECKED

Previously on BnHA: Lots and lots of Shindou idk what else to tell you.

Today on BnHA: Tired Nomad Deku rescues Shindou from Muscular, and us from Shindou. Muscular is all “OH BOY I SURE CAN’T WAIT TO FIGHT DEKU AGAIN AFTER HE TOTALLY KICKED MY ASS THE LAST TIME!! I’M SURE THIS TIME WILL GO DIFFERENTLY SEEING AS HE’S HAD ALMOST AN ENTIRE YEAR’S WORTH OF ADDITIONAL TRAINING, AND ALSO HAS SIX FOURQUIRKS NOW, IN ADDITION TO THE CONFIDENCE THAT COMES WITH HAVING EIGHT OTHER PEOPLE’S SOULS CHILLING OUT INSIDE HIM OFFERING MORAL SUPPORT AND ENCOURAGEMENT.” Deku is all, “[kicks Muscular’s ass effortlessly].” Muscular is all, “[gets his ass totally kicked].” I for one am very satisfied with this, and with respect to all, I would like to hereby declare this post a discourse-free zone. I’m just happy to see my son out here making good use of his FOURQUIRKS, and more importantly beating Muscular in less than seventeen pages so we can all go on with our lives lol.

damn Deku since when were you allowed to look this cool

from this perspective and with the smoke, cape, backpack, and mask more or less obscuring his actual profile, he looks less like a sixteen-year-old boy and more like a grownass man

OH SNAP

we got a glimpse of this in the cleaned-up scan of 307, but seeing both of his eyes looking so distinctively All Might-esque here is... whoa. I mean we know that his face still looks pretty normal underneath the mask and he doesn’t actually have the black sclera, but still, this is an awesome look. mini-Might

lol Muscular

you and me both. I mean no offense, but yeah

so Deku is just standing there silently

typical Deku. tight-lipped and expressionless. mum’s the word. quiet as a mouse. silent as a grave

okay no but seriously this is so weird and creepy though you guys. Deku please say something or else I’m just gonna mindlessly say whatever stupid things come into my head in an effort to make things less awkward

so Muscular is all “I should probably make a cool speech about revenge but Horikoshi couldn’t think of anything good so I’m just going to stand here clenching my fist real slowly”

“I’m not here to go on a monologue” he says, as he monologues about not monologuing

okay you guys I confess I have only read through/watched the Deku VS Muscular fight once because the arm-breaking is just way too uncomfortable for me to revisit. and so as a result, I have completely forgotten Whatever The Deal Is with Muscular’s eye lmao so let me go look it up real quick

okay so it’s a prosthetic, obviously, and he changes it out according to his mood. that part does sound familiar. I just can’t remember which eye is supposed to indicate which mood. don’t tell me I actually have to go back and reread this shit

lol I’m skimming through chapter 75 now and remembering/realizing that I hardly paid any attention to this the first time around because as soon as I found out the villains were after Kacchan my brain was like “TIME TO FOCUS ON THIS AND ONLY THIS NOW AND FOREVER” and yeah. ah memories

anyway so he started out with the flower-looking eye, and then later on he was all

which begs the question, how on earth could I have ever forgotten the most ridiculous panel I’ve ever read lmao

anyway, but so after all of that, I'm only just now realizing that this isn't one of his previous eye prosthetics in the current chapter; this is an ACTUAL FUCKING ROCK that he's just randomly shoved into his eye socket fkdsjlk

so basically (1) I did all of that painstaking research for nothing, five whole minutes of my life wasted THANKS A LOT, and (2) what, and I have never meant this more emphatically, THE FUCK

anyway so now he's leaping at the building that Deku is standing on top of. but he’s not aiming anywhere near Deku though, wtf

(ETA: HAHA YOU BROKE ALL YOUR MUSCLES YOU LOSER.)

...huh

lmao okay then. I hope those annoying citizens in the building next door are watching this go down and rethinking their life choices

dlkdkljk

just keep standing there pressed right up against the window, why don’t you. “WHAT’S GOING ON THIS SUPER CLOSE COLLAPSING BUILDING IS BLOCKING OUR VIEW.” well, folks, we’ve long since known there’s a critical shortage of hero and villain brain cells, but what we’re learning now is that civilian brain cells are also in short supply

OH THANK GOD DEKU IS FINALLY TALKING THAT WAS ACTUALLY UNSETTLING AS FUCK

SO HE’S STILL OUR GOOD, POLITE, WORRIED, CONSIDERATE DEKU UNDERNEATH THAT COOL AND MYSTERIOUS VENEER. for real, thank fuck, because I swear to god if he suddenly started acting like the Dekus in all of the vigilante AUs my interest in this series would have dropped something like 50% lol. just because he dropped out of school and ran away from home and is currently dressed like the physical manifestation of a Linkin Park playlist doesn’t mean he’s not still the WORLD’S BIGGEST DORK okay

I MEAN, THIS RIGHT HERE. THIS IS WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT. HE’S APOLOGIZING FOR THE DELAY

PLEASE FIND THE ATTACHED SHINDOU YOU REQUESTED. BEST REGARDS!!!

OH MY GOD WHY IS HE SUCH A BADASS

something about making bold, confident statements while obscured in smoke?? idk but damn it fucking works

ffjkkl

more importantly, should you tell him you actually need your copy of Shindou in excel format and not pdf?? on the one hand you don’t want to sound ungrateful, but on the other hand what are you even supposed to do with this

this chapter so far consists of like 50% smoke, but on the other hand Deku VS Kacchan 2 had a lot of cinematic smoke too so who am I to complain

OMG IS IT HIS ARMS

IDK DID YOU?! TELL ME YOUR SECRETS. PLEASE, AT SOME POINT THIS FIGHT HAS GOT TO ACTUALLY ADVANCE THE PLOT

OHHHHHHH

IT’S EN’S QUIRK!! OH MY GOD OKAY THAT’S ACTUALLY AWESOME

I CAN HEAR THE SOUND OF DISCOURSE RUMBLING IN THE BACKGROUND BUT I DON’T CARE LOL. WON’T CATCH ME EVER SAYING NO TO ANOTHER SIXQUIRK. GO AHEAD, BRING THEM ON, I WANT TO SEE THEM ALL but take it easy though Deku. don’t want to give yourself lung cancer or anything

also it’s good to see that in a very real sense he’s not fighting alone. the Vestiges really did mean it when they said they could appear more easily now. this is on a whole other level

so is this whole next page still En talking, or someone else? because whoever it is sure is chatty

okay, several things

pretty sure it is En, because he keeps saying “I suppose.” for someone who never said two words until one page ago, this guy sure never shuts up. we can’t all follow Muscular’s lead I suppose. oh my god now I’m doing it too

really like the suggestion of Deku using the SIXQUIRKS like tools in an arsenal, because that’s what he’s good at! it’s almost like he’s been training for this his entire life. “you value quirks too much” LOOK HE JUST THINKS THEY’RE COOL OKAY IS THAT A CRIME

where the fuck did all this rope come from

not gonna ask what the fuck that thing is sticking out from the back of his utility belt. Horikoshi will surely explain this

is that a fucking jetpack. I’m sorry Deku were six fucking quirks not enough for you. you can fucking float??? but JUST TO BE SAFE, LET’S STRAP A PAIR OF ROCKETS TO OUR SHOULDERS IDK

-- or wait, is this all supposed to be like a visual representation of En’s metaphor?? OH MY GOD AM I JUST STUPID LOL, DON’T ANSWER THAT. NEVER MIND. NEW LIST!!

rope = blackwhip

jetpack = float

radio = danger sense

and so I’m guessing that this ridiculously phallic thing is supposed to be a flare or something?? and that = the new quirk, smokescreen. well that was a fucking ride lmao we now return you to our regularly scheduled chapter

so now Deku is floating to his heart’s content and thinking that he’ll just sneak up on Muscular and vibe check his ass or whatever

WOOOOOOOO DANGER SENSE YESSSS I LOVE THIS FOR HIM

okay guys, I'm gonna press pause here for a sec to make a serious note, because I am loving the shit out of this, but tbh I'm having trouble enjoying it as much as I want to because I keep getting anxious thinking about the discourse. I know that a lot of the fandom has very strong opinions on Deku's character development one way or the other, and I want to respect that. but I also really have no spoons to debate this topic at all beyond what I’ve already weighed in on. so if it’s all the same to everyone, I plan on staying out of this discussion, at least this week

anyway! that said, YEAH BOI GET HIS ASS

VIBE: CHECKED. CURB: STOMPED. HOTEL: TRIVAGO

-- OF COURSE HE’S STILL FUCKING FINE LOL HE CRASHES INTO BUILDINGS FOR FUN IDK WHAT I WAS EXPECTING

dammit Muscular. how many fucking quirks does it take to beat you?! the annoying thing is that even with all of his cool new powers, Deku is still something of a mismatch against him. anyway r.i.p. to all these poor buildings

OOOOOHHHHH

you guys have no idea how intrigued I am at the prospect of watching Deku try to play both good cop and bad cop here lmao

anyway so Muscular says he doesn’t know, go figure

“I’m not here to make small talk or anything” he says as he small talks about not small talking

OH MY GOD DEKU

are you really gonna talk no jutsu all of these villains from now on?? that last battle really did have a profound impact on you, huh! interesting

you guys he’s really doing it omg

Deku this guy tried to murder a five-year-old literally just for fun. I mean more power to you, but holy shit you’re really gonna try to defeat Muscular with anger management therapy huh

I MEAN

WHO COULD HAVE SEEN THAT RESPONSE COMING dlkjslkjk

FUCK’S SAKE DEKU, I KNOW YOU MEAN WELL BUT THEY CAN’T ALL HAVE TRAGIC PASTS KIDDO

but. I have to admit, I do still like that he tried. probably knew just as well as we did what the end result was going to be, but still. he made the effort in good faith and I respect that

uh oh

why do I get the feeling Muscular just got a whole lot deader

oh my god oh my god he’s doing the “powering up” stance ffff don’t fucking tell me you can still use your fucking arms here, Deku

BUT MORE IMPORTANTLY WHAT’S THIS??

okay so basically he’s saying that whatever it was he sensed in Tomura, he doesn’t sense from Muscular. which, yeah, that sounds exactly right. good judge of character here lol

AHHHHAHAHA YESS

WHOOPS, GET FUCKED I GUESS

WOOOOHOOOOOOOO

lmao so apparently this is the belated result of Shindou’s attack from chapter 307?? I’ll be damned. good for you Shindou!! I always liked you buddy. please just take my word on that and don’t fact check that statement

okay lol the one tiny bit of discourse I will allow is that it’s bullshit that he just did that with his right arm. like, I’ll fully acknowledge that. that makes no fucking sense, and I demand an explanation from the Great Plot Hole Filler himself. he’s never let us down before when it comes to continuity so I’m trusting him not to suddenly start now

that said, we love to see a rematch against a boring guy settled quickly and decisively within the span of a single chapter. THANK YOU

I like that Deku implies that his power is being a smart nerd who battles villains using the power of ANALYTICS. he basically didn’t do anything except restrain Muscular and wait for Shindou’s attack to take effect while halfheartedly checking to see if he regretted any of that murder and stuff

(ETA: and almost forgot to mention, he made excellent use of all four of his active SIXQUIRKS. it’s like the chapter title said; this is basically him fighting all-out, and it’s a sight to see.)

also, as cool as the mask was, this just feels right. like, we had our fun, now let us see his face, yes good

anyway, I think this was a good start towards establishing What’s Up With Deku Right Now! so if it’s all the same to Horikoshi, I would next like to take some time to explore Why’s Up With Deku. that, and What’s Up With Everyone Else, Especially Kacchan. por favor