#we are going to the fiber festival!

[flintandpyrite]

Do we think there is enough knitwear in this car or

[vilsoo]

𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐄 ⌇LEON KENNEDY

vampire!reader x prince!leon || WC: 3,626

𖤐 SYNOPSIS. you’ve had your eye on prince leon for a long time, impersonating as a sweet duchess developing an ardent relationship with him. but with your dark intentions, you crave for nothing but his blood and to corrupt him as a vampire…

𖤐 WARNINGS. historical royalty au, duchess!reader, coercion so dubcon warning, seduction, hypnosis, eventual smut, bathtub sex, marking, neck biting, blood drinking, mentions of killing, loss of innocence, kinda ooc leon, multiple orgasms.

HORRORLAND/KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

[HAUNTED HOUSE ANNOUNCER] You are now entering the Lust at First Bite live venue. This haunted house attraction depicts scenes of violence, intense loud audio, special effects, and content warnings posted. For a fun and safe experience, please follow our code of conduct: no touching live performers and decorations, no flash photography, and no eating. Do not block passageways, or this will result in expulsion. Smoking and drinking are permitted for our haunted houses only. We hope you enjoy.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

“Your grace. There is a nice, hot bath prepared just for you in the master bathroom.”

Your gaze settles onto Prince Leon as you were reading a book on your sofa, drinking in the very sight of him. He felt his own heartbeat stomp through his ribcage from how ravishing you looked under the pale moonlight radiating from your window, dressed in your nightgown and the enamoring glimmer in your eyes drizzling into his skin, buzzing in all directions of his soul. You see him with his embellished suit off and only his white dress shirt, a sign that he would be retiring back to his chambers soon for the night.

You’ve favored each other for the longest. You knew that Prince Leon had deep, incandescent feelings for you, the darling duchess of España, but was too abashed to confess. And even though there was a lingering part of you that shares the same feelings, your heart wasn’t in the right place. No desire for love, commitment, marriage, or even the title of queen in the kingdom once Leon inherits his title as king. Only a handsome man like him can writhe you into a carnal fervor, your dark desire growing stronger like a restless, insatiable hunger…

The forbidden lust and tension between you two was tormenting to even bear every second you spend time together; you wanted him in ways that he could never imagine, all those filthy, vivid dreams filling your mind. The passion, the roughness, the danger, the urge to corrupt that sweet, innocent soul… Moments in time when you’re both alone was like playing with fire and ice, aware that such ravenous desire and yearning for each other could be intoxicating…

Prince Leon lends a hand for you as you stand before him, your beautiful, genuine smile causing his heart to flutter. “Why, thank you, Your Highness. I’ll be on my way right now.”

“No need for formalities, remember?” Leon smiled back, still holding onto your hand that his thumb involuntarily grazes your fingers. Your gaze flickers down on his hands and then up into his face, fighting the urge to inch ever so closely to feel his lips on yours.

“Right. Well, are you retiring to bed for the night?”

“I was on my way, but… if you have any requests before I go, I’ll be of service.”

Slowly letting go of his hand, your longing gaze drifts to the bay windows, a silent statement that you didn’t want him to leave just yet. Coronation is just in three days and Leon will become king. Ever since you were inherited duchess, you’ve waited so long for this very moment… Not to celebrate Leon and partake in festivities, but to celebrate your own triumph...

The triumph of finally drinking his blood.

“Will you help me unlace my dress?” you requested ever so fondly. Leon looked as if every fiber of his being seized at the question, rendered motionless and his jaw slightly slackened.

“Uh, are you— are you sure, your grace?” he stammered. “You’re comfortable with me… touching you like that? Wouldn’t we be in some sort of trouble…?”

His innocence prompted a chuckle from you, coyly slanting your head at him with the right kind of heat and ardor pooling in your flaunting eyes. Immediately his mind is haunted by the hollow embrace of your gaze. Oh how you loved enticing the prince without lifting a finger, that he couldn’t help but to get lost in you, already undressing you with his eyes.

“Oh, Leon. You said you’d be of service for me tonight. Why would I get you into trouble?” You simpered, whirling your body around to reveal your delicate frill laced corset beautifully tied into a bow. Though the prince was hesitant to even lay a finger on your enamoring body, he would forever adorn your warming embrace, urging him to please you and surrender to your unfair seduction.

“Forgive me. You know how I tend to be… wary of your grace. I would do anything as you please.”

A smile stretches across your face, emitting soft sighs of relief as Leon loosens up your dress and the pressure finally lifted from your waist. The steady pace of beating hearts and slowed breathing, his calloused hands lightly brushing against your back, the shape of your body seeping into his mind… Your body has already succumbed to this desiring aroma, addicted to each other with such burning ecstasy.

“I worry that once you’re king, the circumstances between us may change,” you murmured as Leon loosened the last section of lace, whirling around to meet his eyes once again.

He held back the urge to lean forward, to finally taste those saccharine lips of yours bathed under the moonlight, to kiss you for reassurance; even though he knew that you did not belong to him...

“Y/N. You know how deeply I favor you. Being a king may have more responsibilities, but that doesn’t mean not spending time with you. Surely that is something I won’t ever miss out on,” the prince professes, ever so sweetly.

“Oh, Leon...” Another warm, genuine smile and a soft chuckle was all you replied with, clutching your loosened dress to cover your semi-exposed chest as you made your way to the master bathroom. “If your desire to spend more time alone with me is true, will you partake in more favors for me?”

“Of course, your grace. Anything.”

You hummed. “Will you light the candles in the bathroom, please? You know I love the ones you gave me.”

Leon scoffed softly, finding your demure request oddly adorable. “As you wish, your grace.”

As he lights a match from your fireplace to transfer to your bathroom, your dress had already pooled around your ankles, completely naked as Leon saunters back and flinched in shock from accidentally averting his eyes on your bare skin. “Your— your grace!” he stammers again, shielding his face away from your direction. “Forgive my eyes, I— I didn’t know you disrobed so quickly— I will be taking my leave—“

“Leon,” you assured, also piqued by how adorable he was. “There’s absolutely no need for that at all. I still require your presence.”

The prince cleared his throat, his head still turned away and eyes fixated onto the wall. “Oh, uh— of course. As long as you are comfortable, I won’t leave your side…”

“Will you look at me when I am speaking as well?”

As much as Prince Leon was flustered from your risqué behavior stemming from nowhere, he couldn’t bring himself to disobey your commands. And though he was of much higher status, being heir to the throne, while you were of a lower rank than him, he always felt rather inclined to serve and satisfy you. When his frantic eyes drifts ever so slowly onto your nude body, the depths of his blood rushed to meet the surface of his cheeks. A slow inhale he took as if he breathed the sight of you in, effortlessly seducing his thoughts…

“What’s the matter?” you spoke, his eyes never leaving the beguiling sight of your body as you dipped your feet in the bathtub.

“Um— nothing, nothing. It’s just… you may have stolen my breath away once again, your grace.”

“Once again?” you teased. “Ah, how could I forget your expression after seeing me in my gown during our tea party in the gardens a week ago...”

With the dandelion colored candlelight dancing off the rippling water, you submerged in the warm bath of rose petals and lavender, the sweet aroma of affection, serenity, and fondness filling the air. Leon was undeniably enticed. As if you wrapped him under a spell with such wanton lust, every soft whisper and every alluring gaze you give each other unleashing a storm of temptation. He felt inclined to feel closer to you as you washed yourself, right beside your grand bathtub, his shadow towering over you.

“Your grace. As honest as I am with you as you are with me... I believe we both know exactly why you require my presence tonight,” he mutters, beginning to unbutton his shirt.

Your eyes widened in utter shock, a facade of panic when deep down you were so close to getting exactly what you’ve wanted. “Leon? Are you— Are you disrobing?”

“Are you planning to make me beg for this? I can’t handle it any longer. And I know you can’t either,” he mutters passionately, lulling your heart from his poetic confession. “Just say the words, my dearest. Tell me what you want.”

Behind those mesmerizing shades in your eyes leave something much more desirable that Leon can sense. Your doe, heated eyes behind the blinds of time, slowly traveling up his chest and bare skin, lips parting like an invitation for him. You tried so hard maintaining your blood thirst that it took every fiber of your being to hold yourself back for years now. It was like a blaring siren overtaking your ears, your chest thundering and pounding erratically, and your gut screaming at you that it was finally time to feast on the man you’ve been keeping your eye on for so long…

“Leon… If we do this, we must—“

“—be discreet, yes. There was nobody around before I entered, your grace. Everybody else had retired to their chambers.”

You stammered on your own words as he undoes the rest of his undergarments, shielding your eyes and turning away as he dips into the rose petal bath. If only he knew your veneer bashfulness towards him, wickedly hypnotizing him with your sultry eyes and mind…

“Your grace. Is this alright with you?” he reassures. “You can, uh… turn around whenever you’re comfortable.”

Ever so slowly you face him, inhaling deeply and sighing softly at the sight of his flesh and body before you. His skin drizzled with drops of water was so beautiful, pale and mysterious, a man that walked straight out of your twisted fairytale. Your hands moved as if it possessed a mind of its own, delicately caressing him and ambling closer to the point he can breathe you in. Just how longer can you bear yourself around him?

“My prince,” you passionately whisper, inclining your neck to take in his warm bright blue eyes and the tingling feeling of his nose brushing against yours.

The bathroom was dimly lit, glinted in darker shades; somber, sultry, and sacred. All air had escaped your lungs, panting heavily and trembling lips parted like an invitation for each other. The gap between you was now inevitably thin. Leon’s hands slide down the slope of your ribs and the curves of your hip, a thrilling shiver coursing in your veins.

“Yes. I can’t begin to explain how much of a… wicked man I am for you,” he murmurs. “You effortlessly bewitch and beguile me. And I must—I must not only tell, but show these strong feelings I have for you. It torments my soul every morning and every night…”

“As does mine, Leon…”

“Tonight, right here in this bath we share… You’re my queen. I live to please and satisfy you, Y/N.”

He dips his head further, pulling you by the neck and settling onto his lips, smiling in between your passionate kiss. Hands wandering the perfect canvas of his skin, he was pressed against the walls of the bathtub as you melted into the kiss. Not only can you taste him, but you can smell his blood so up close, an inferno of passion which was also your tempestuous hell. Your heart became a cauldron, ablaze with yearning and maddening, pulsing blood lust. In a rapturous fervour, your body falls under your unquenched, carnal hunger for him.

“I love you, Y/N,” you hear him murmur. “I love you, I love you, I love you… Let us consume each other right here.”

Consume each other…

Your eyes were forced shut, concealing the wicked change of color in your eyes, emerging into your primal, vampire state. You enchant him with lips grazing against his neck, breathing slowly as his human scent invades you tremendously. He arches his neck with the back of his head resting on the bathtub’s edge, eyes closed in ecstasy from the way you drizzled his body with kisses that were soon to be your markings. Your rapacious desire, your dangerous craving and insatiable taste for blood that no one could ever know, not even the prince himself, has finally risen like the full moon. Terror was now your fine embodiment…

“Oh, Leon… I’ve always wondered what you taste like.”

You finally bared your fangs, its sharpness shining in the light of the moonshine peaking through the windows. Your piercing, cranberry-colored eyes flickered one last time onto Leon’s face like a predator feening on its prey that it just captured. His eyelids began to flutter as he gazed upon the ceiling like he was lost in his own world, somewhat contemplating the words you just spoke of. But as the candelight flickered and the air thickened, you were ready to feed.

“Taste like..?”

With no warning your fangs sink deep into his neck, draining him so harshly as you enthralled in your long-awaited bloodgasm and feral lust. His body beneath you squirmed and writhed, his eyes meeting your predatory, bone-chilling gaze as he was about to scream and shriek from the pain and terror. But you cover his mouth, hissing as he struggled to escape from your grasp until you feel his body going cold, his eyes falling heavy, his heart beating slowly, breath hitching, and his strength staggering. You kept marking him all over his neck and chest, robbing him of his delicious blood that you were sent into a frenzy, intoxicated state. A beautiful bloodgasm.

“Your grace, what— what are you…?” Leon groggily whispers, rendered numb and dazed from how much blood you drained out of him. “Are you— are you gonna kill me?!”

You may have felt a little remorseful for ruining him like this, but after all, this was your mission from the beginning. Nothing but an ardent relationship that arbitrarily developed into something much deeper, where you kept holding back on the days you were dutied to drink him then kill him. You can see the betrayal and longing behind his eyes. The fear staggering in his ribs that you can feel his heart thundering. He was still under your spell, hypnotized and mystified by your seduction, which was why he didn’t react so frantic or hostile. Perhaps he was riveted deep down, stupefied beyond belief of who you really are behind your lovely facade… The poor Prince Leon was a goddamn fool.

“I won’t... If you be obedient for me,” you reassured to him tantalizingly, noticing him quiver as you ran your sharpened lacquered almond nails down his chest.

“So this was your plan all along…? Reveal yourself to me before I’m crowned king?” Leon retaliates weakly. “How were… how were you able to live without… drinking blood?”

“What do you think happened to all our prisoners in the dungeons? All the innocent civilians going missing and found dead from loss of blood,” you smirked, Leon’s blood still draped all over your lips, teeth, and chin. “You should be grateful that you’re the only man I’ve shown mercy to. And with all my markings on your Heavenly body… you may be fatigued from how much I drank, but you’re still alive and useful. For now.”

Leon growled in frustration his nose flaring and his breath hitching, unable to fathom his demise. He still couldn’t move his arms, for all of his limbs remained numb and his strength rendered docile. “Damn you! What— what is it that you really want, Y/N? I know you’re not only thirsting after my blood— I demand an answer!”

“You… you will be my consort as we terrorize this kingdom and its people together, leaving us as the rightful vampire heirs,” you taunted, seizing every nerve in Leon’s modified body. “The night we have our dinner party, our guests will be treated with a special meal— paralyzing them just for us to feed on their blood and celebrate our triumph. The more we feed, the more we become powerful.”

“I— I would never!” the prince retorts, his voice suddenly cracking from his surge of emotions washing over him. “I loved you, Y/N! This wasn’t… this wasn’t the future I wanted with you…”

“That’s such a shame. With the changes going on in your body right now, our bloodlust future together is inevitable. You already belong to me, Prince Leon Kennedy.”

Moonlight washes over his face, eyes wincing from how rapid his heart was thundering in his chest. Every nerve in his body was on high-alert, tearing inside him in such agonizing, razor-sharp pain. In that fleeting moment, with every heavy breath he takes as his body surrenders to this brain-fazing sensation, he was no longer himself. Your daunting words and hypnotism dwells within his skull, corrupting him in vulgar, ravenous ways.

Not one word was spoken as he embraced the roaring pain slashing in his body like acid. He felt enraged. He felt animalistic. He felt thirsty. He felt… plagued by such a forbidden desire, your seduction like grotesque death to him. Corrupted by lust, he is now a dark incarnate. No longer a human. No longer a king.

He was a bloodlusted man that serves his only purpose of pleasuring you.

“I— I belong to you, Your Grace.”

You smiled a wicked smile, catching a glimpse of Leon’s new fangs as he parts his lips for you like an invitation. The innocence, purity, and humanity that would pool behind his beautiful eyes is now ravaged with salacious filth and hunger. His humanity and dignity will now forever remain unobtainable. With the man you loved and favored reborn as one of the most deadliest, sinister creatures to scorch the Earth, you were an indestructible pair…

Leon tossed away his chastity, his honor, his celibacy the moment your lips clashed together, savoring every bit of each other to engrave in your minds. His immoral lust was a feast of flavors that blazed wildly like an untamed flame. A low growl in his throat as he kissed you so hard and rough, wanting you to bite down on his lips with your sharp fangs. Sensations coursed through his body, transferring to your flesh. Water mixed with blood was splashing onto the floor as Leon tried to push you against the wall this time for control, but he your affect rendered the depraved man docile. He couldn’t win over you, no matter how physically capable he was.

“Your— Your grace,” he gasped, looking down at the water as your swollen cunt started grinding against his aching cock. “Please, I need to feel you… I’ve been waiting for so long to experience this ecstasy with you…”

“Oh, my poor prince,” you feigned a pout, planting kisses on neck and behind his earlobe. “Vampires don’t make love. Vampires don’t indulge in intimacy… We only consume. We ravage. Human blood and power is our lustful cravings for eternity, but you, Leon… Your love is the only lethal drug I can inject into my bloodstream to satiate me.”

“I don’t care what I am anymore, Y/N. As a human, as a king, as a vampire, as a dead man… I’ll always be a cruel, withered man crawling back to you with maddening hunger. My lustful craving was always you. You alone satiate me more than anything in this rotten world.”

You had no idea what took over you at that passionate, endearing moment shared with Leon… but everything fell foggy as you were sitting on top of his cock and kissing him at the same time, hearing the water sloshing around as you moved your hips on him with sultry rolls. He felt better than you had fantasized before; pinpricks of electricity and intensity blossoming inside you, hearing him whimper and groan in your ears as he fills you up so good. It was a whirlwind of pleasure and torture, carnality and filth, intimacy and immorality… Your body enthralled in the exquisite affection Leon has been longing for, causing you to betray your heartless nature.

Leon as a newborn didn’t get a chance to drink a human’s blood, but this fervent moment with you was saccharine of all things. Your pussy wrapped around his cock was like coveted treasure, his prized possession, pulsing erratically inside you that he wanted to release. Holding your waist in his large hands, he’d buck his hips and fuck into you as you held onto him. Such filthy, cloying sounds you made as you threw your head back, him holding your waist up and forcing you to take all of it. He adorned you, every inch of your crevice, every part of your wicked, corrupted soul.

Orgasm after orgasm, rippling waves after waves, crying the most beautiful hymn that Leon has ever heard. You’ve never been so defeated and plagued by tenderness, by passion, by several love confessions from Leon. But you were undeniably raptured from how hard you both kept coming and coming in the heat of the moment, clinging onto each other as you made love and recited your vows in the bathtub.

“Such an obedient man you are for me,” you praised. “As my consort in our new kingdom, what else can you do for me?”

Leon, smitten and trapped in a daze by you, no longer possessed humanity. No morality, no rectitude, no virtue. As long as he can thrive off pleasuring you, he will fall to his knees and always be at your command.

“I will kill for you, Your Grace...”

ALL WORKS BELONG TO VILSOO © 2023. do not steal, plagiarize, translate, or repost/share any of my works on any social media where minors have access. original art here (artist unknown)

inspired by the bathtub scene from Queen of the Damned (2002) and “Knight of Relaxation” by Naudio on Quinn.

𖤐 TAGS. @crysugu @rinshoe @cran-berry-vodka @daddyzzlittlewhore @kimekioo @strawberrymilk4k @maidenssymphony @willsdollface @zippertwat @strawstfu @migueloharacumslut @maddietries @milestacy @blackhoodlea @bru1sedclavicle @dollicries @hehehehesthings @dvafoxxystrashcan

[tudorscrown]

last kiss | spencer reid

spencer reid x bau!fem!reader warnings: angst ig? heartbreak, mention of a breakup, fluff, y/n is mentioned!!! navigation | cm masterlist word count: 1052 words inspired by last kiss by taylor swift

i love how you walk with your hands in your pockets

You and Spencer were walking down the streets of D.C.. It was a cold night and you were returning back to your shared apartment from a Russian Film Festival that he always craved about.

"I loved the accuracy from the film! All the characters were played very well, except for Svidrigailov. I don't think Dostoevsky wanted him to be portrayed as sympathetic as he was played. He wasn't as nearly as gallant in the book--" Spencer looked at you and saw you shiver. "Y/N are you cold?"

Looking over at your humble boyfriend, you saw the worry in his eyes and quickly shook your head. "It's like sixty degrees out, Spence. I'm not cold." But despite your reassurances, your body betrayed you as goosebumps were very apparent on your arms and you involuntarily shivered.

"Here." Spencer said, shaking off his coat and handing it to you. You shook your head but Spencer only held it out more until you begrudgingly took it, slipping it over your shoulders, letting the warmth from Spencer engulf your being.

"Thanks." You said softly, your cheeks pinkening slightly. Spencer gave a tight lipped smile, stuffing his hands into his pockets. Despite the fact that you two were already dating, butterflies still erupted in your stomach every time Spencer was around you.

how you'd kiss me when i was in the middle of saying something

The first time Spencer kissed you was memorable for both of you, especially Spencer considering he has an eidetic memory.

"Do you ever think that if we weren't in the FBI, we wouldn't have to go through things like this?" You said, sitting on Spencer's hospital bed as he laid upright with a large bandage on his neck. He had gotten shot in the neck during a shootout with an Unsub and almost died if it weren't for Alex, who was next to him and got him to cover and aided him.

"Y/N..." He said but you cut him off, rambling.

"You got hit in the neck, Spence! A stupid bullet proof vest doesn't cover the neck! It barely does anything to the torso, I mean, Derek has welts for days--days!"

"Y/N--"

"No, you need to listen! You're smart enough to get an amazing job somewhere like CalTech or MIT, hell, even Harvard! You can't spread your knowledge if you're dead, Spence. I--" But that time it had been Spencer who had cut you off. He silenced you by bringing his hands up to cup your face and lean in.

You were taken completely by surprise as Spencer's lips molded to yours like puzzle pieces. Closing your eyes, you leant into his grip as he pulled away.

Spencer wouldn't meet your eyes--couldn't. He had a furious blush dusting his cheeks as he noticed the different fibers in the cotton blanket wrapped around his legs.

"Spence..." You said, lips parting in shock at the fact that your sweet, loveable, goofy, geeky best friend just kissed you!

But he took your shock for something else. "I-I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that.." He said shyly.

You had no words and only brought your lips to his. This time, he was taken aback but came to his senses and kissed you back.

there's not a day i don't miss those rude interruptions

and i'll go sit on the floor wearing your clothes

Now you sat on your bathroom floor, leaning against the wall in one of Spencer's old CalTech shirts. Your eyes were red and cheeks were puffy and tear-stained. You sat, thinking about the memories that you and Spencer shared, some in that very bathroom... your bedroom... kitchen... on sidewalks and watching Doctor Who movies (that you didn't quite understand) on the couch.

A ding from your cellphone lifted you from your daydream. It was Penelope.

your name, forever the name on my lips

You wanted to say his name. You wanted to be able to sit next to him on the jet and listen to him ramble about Dante or the Bronte sisters but you couldn't, not like how you used to.

You wanted to be able to lean against his desk and talk about profiles and try to figure out who was behind what, but you couldn't. Not anymore. You couldn't even look at the new arrangement of photos on his desk. He had a new life to look at now that you weren't there. Sometimes, you would occasionally pass his desk and see his life in pictures, remembering when you would watch him sleep and see how peaceful he looked. Now another girl will be able to do that.

He has another girl to recreate your memories. You wonder if he's forgotten you already.

and i'll keep up with our old friends just to ask them how you are

and i hope the sun shines and it's a beautiful day

Spencer got up early today. He was supposed to meet Max at the park so they could talk. Too bad it was such a beautiful day for such a sad topic of conversation.

and something reminds you: you wish you had stayed

He glanced around his room. When you and Spencer first moved in together, it was in your apartment and he had rented his out. It felt strange to him, living with someone else in an unfamiliar place but he settled into it. Now, he had to settle back into being alone. You weren't there in his bed, snuggling into his side, groaning about how early it was. You weren't there to listen to him rant about the inaccuracies to several Sci-Fi shows. You weren't there.

But Max was.

[naturesapphic]

Pumpkin patch

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Warnings: cussing, fluff, and smut ;)

“Come on natty!” You quickly said as you pull your girlfriend over to the team as you were a few minutes late getting to the designated location. It was a corn maze with a haunted house by it, they also had a festival near by as well. You never been to a haunted house or haunted corn maze before and you are ecstatic about it. You have your girlfriend and the whole team with you, so you will be fine and completely safe.

“Hey guys!” Wanda said as she waved you guys over to them and everyone waved too. Tony, Steve, Bucky, Wanda, Peter, mj, Bruce, pietro, yelena, Thor, Clint, Maria, and kate were there and you were so glad that they could make it. You and nat went into the line of the haunted house with the team and Natasha had a strong arm wrapped around you waist as she was behind you. You knew nat was going to be very protective over you, even if it was a little harmless little haunted house.

Everyone was dressed up kinda nicely. The guys had casual stuff on and some of the girls too but you wanted to wear your favorite flower dress on since it was kinda hot and you didn’t want to sweat in jeans and plus…you wanted to tease nat with it too. Nat had the same idea about teasing you too because she has on a black strawberry dress that fits her right and her breast pushed up which made you drool at the sight. She knew this would get you going so after the haunted house, she would get you alone in the maze and finally have some alone time.

“Next!” A loud voice boomed, letting us go to the entrance of the house and you looked up at nat scared “don’t you dare leave my side romanoff or no sex for 5 months.” You said sternly and she look at you bewildered. “Baby! What the fuck! I would never ever leave you out of my sight!” She said quickly and you giggled at her. “I’m just kidding natty! But I swear to God if you do leave me I’m using your widow bites on your ass.” You said again sternly and nat nodded quickly in understanding. “SIMP!” Tony coughed out and nat glared at him as she punches him in his stomach which made him bend over groaning “okay…got it romanoff. No jokes.” Tony said and slowly walking in with the rest of y’all.

Natasha was behind you holding your body against hers as y’all walked into the haunted house with the team. A clown jumped out at you and you screamed loudly which made nat jump a little. You slowly walked with the rest of the team as they were jumping and screaming as actors upon actors keep jumping out at them. There was a zombie on the floor which grabbed Tony’s and Steve’s foot and they screamed at the top of their lungs like little girls. You quickly went over the zombies with nat still behind you and you were basically sprinting out of the house. Soon enough, with some of y’all’s pants wet and y’all’s throats sore, the haunted house was finally over. “I never want to do that again.” Peter said and Kate, Steve, Tony, Bruce, pietro, and Thor agreed. “I had no problem. That was fun! Let’s do it again!” Yelena exclaimed as Maria agreed along with Bucky. “FUCK NO!” The rest of the team said, including you.

“I hated that with every fiber in my body.” You grumbled and you heard nat chuckle and you glared at her. She put her hands up “okay okay I’m sorry. But hey! At least I didn’t leave ya did I now dekta?” She explained and you rolled your eyes playfully as you nodded in agreement. “That’s true. You did stay glued to me the entire time.” You admitted and she smiled triumphantly. Kate and yelena walked up to you and gave you sad smiles. “I’m sorry but we are gonna go ahead and go…Kate had an accident and she’s not speaking to me since I made her go in there. So we are going to go ahead and head home.” Lena explained and you gave Kate an apologetic look and she gave you one back. “Let me know when y’all get home.” You said to them and they both nodded in agreement as they walked back to their car.

Some of the other team members decided to go ahead and take their leave but some still stayed like Tony, Bucky, Maria, Thor, Bruce, and clint. Bruce and Thor went to go paint their faces as Tony went to take some pictures with some fans. “Hey babygirl. There’s a corn maze! Do you wanna go in? It’s not scary I don’t think.” Nat explained and you gave her a questionable look but nodded in agreement nonetheless. “Sure why not.” You said while clint, Maria, and Bucky agreed to join y’all. The five of y’all went to the front entrance of the maze and took off. Some of them made bets to see which person could make it to the middle of the maze first, but you and nat didn’t partake in the bet, just wanting to enjoy the scenery.

The three avengers went sprinting off, eager to win while you and nat stayed behind and started walking wherever. Nat grasped your hand gently in hers and smiled down at you, showing off her beautiful smile and her green eyes sparkling. “You’re so pretty natty.” You said sighing with a love struck smile on your face. Natasha felt her cheeks get warm and she looked away and you giggled. “Hey look…that looks like a little hideout.” Natasha pointed out and the both of you looked at each other and shrugged, going into the little passageway. The room was just made out of hay and didn’t have anything else in it. “This must be a little hideout for the scarers so they can jump out at people.” You explained and nat nodded in agreement. You sat down on one of the hay bales as nat sat down beside you.

“You know…I’ve been wanting to get you alone for some time now dekta…” Natasha said with a sultry voice which made you close your thighs together and nat noticed which made her smirk. You got on her lap slowly and had your legs on either side of her. “I hope you know that I’m not wearing a bra right now.” You whispered in her ear and you heard her growl under her breath. “Show me.” She demanded and you smiled innocently which always got her going. You pulled down both dress straps slowly until your breast were free and bare. Her calloused hands slowly went up your waist, to your torso, and up to your breast. “You have such pretty tits babygirl. I love them…all mine to play with…” nat stated and she leaned down to take one of your pink buds into her mouth. You gasped out and your hands immediately went onto her head so you can hold on to something.

Nat switched to your other nipple and you felt yourself getting soaked. Natasha pulled away from your chest and laid back on the hay bale with you on top of her. You smiled down at her and felt her hands on your legs, going up your dress to cup your ass. “I love this pretty ass too…” she confessed and you blushed bright red at her words. She kept kneading the flesh until her hands went under your panties and started kneading your ass again. She finally had enough of your underwear getting in the way and pulled your panties down your legs until they fell to the ground. “I want that pretty little pussy on my face.” She demanded and you felt yourself moan out at her confession. You crawled up to her face and hovered it to tease her and she gave you a stern look.

You slowly sat down on her face and was rewarded with her mouth immediately latching onto your lips and start sucking. You moan out her name loudly and felt her tongue enter your pulsating walls and start tongue fucking you. You swear the whole corn maze can hear how loud you are moaning but you really give a shit right now. Natasha kept her tongue into your throbbing hole as she used her left hand to grope your breast and her right hand to abuse your clit. “N-natty…m’gonna cum!” You moaned out and she squeezed your breast twice which meant it was okay to let go and you sure did. You came all over your girlfriends pretty face and she licked you clean.

You got off her face and laid beside her, trying to catch your breath as well as nats. “F-fuck natty…” you breathed out and she looked over at you and gave you a love sick smile. You gave her one back and leaned back over to capture her lips in another kiss. She gladly accepted and pulled you closer to her as she loves being to close to you. Your hands went up to her full breast and started massaging the flesh in your small hands which made nat gasp a little against your mouth and you took the opportunity to invite your tongue into her mouth but you didn’t dominate it for long. Nat won and soon she was sucking on your tongue so she can taste more of you and you were getting deep into subspace.

As y’all were making out, Clint, Maria, and Thor were looking for the both of you and was getting nowhere. “Where the fuck are they? The park is about to close and I’m not staying in this weird ass place.” Maria commented and Clint chuckled at her. “Don’t worry, they definitely didnt go far.” Clint reassured everyone and they kept looking and calling out y’all’s names. You stopped kissing nat which made her whine and you shushed her quietly, trying to hear what was making some sort of sound. “NAT! Y/N!” Clint screamed out and you gave nat a hurried look and immediately went to get your panties to put back on as nat was trying to fix herself and wipe away your cum off her face.

You took nats hand and y’all quickly got out of the hidden room and were met with Thor, Clint, and Maria who were looking at y’all pissed. “Where the fuck have y’all been! We thought you were kidnapped! Or worse! Left us here!” Clint said as he waved his arms in the air. You gave them a apologetic look “I’m sorry guys…me and nat found this cool hidden room and well…we got occupied…” you said with a blush creeping up on your face and the three of them gave you both a disgusted look. “Okay EW! I did not need to know that!” Clint and Maria stated and Thor just stared in disbelief. Nat rolled her eyes “okay guys shut up and let’s go. The both of us are tired and I’m sure that y’all are too so get your asses in gear.” Natasha demanded and everyone grumbled as the five of y’all went back to the car and drove back to the compound as Natasha promised you when the two of you get back that she wasn’t done with you quite yet.

A/n: holy shit 1990 words! Also shout-out to whoever drew that amazing photo! Also I apologize this request was for fall and Halloween but I’ve been pretty busy so I’m sorry. But Christmas/winter requests are still open! Also remember to stay hydrated and to rest! I love y’all!

[trashmouth-richie]

Series summary: Hawkins Annual Halloween Festival is in town, and this year you and your friends were lucky enough to work the event. But when some of your co-workers are missing, and a trail of blood leads to the woods behind the festival. Your friends work together to find out what’s going on. A killer is on the loose but who could it be? Or is it the town’s spooky secret of what really happened at Hawkins Lab?

ch 1: FLICKER

ch 2: A SCREAM AND A SLICE

ch 3: THE ROCKSTAR AND THR REDLIGHTS

chapter summary: flashbacks provide some insight on our favorite metalhead.

chapter trigger warnings: 18+ only, character death, references to child neglect, upside down references, poor parenting practices, etc, blood, character death, killer reveal.

CH. 4: FAMILY VALUES

1974

The tires on Evil Kneivel’s Stunt Bike trudged through the familiar path of the bare thread carpet in the back bedroom of trailer 8 in Forest Hills Trailer Park. Eddie was on his stomach, ignoring the rumbling noise from the hollow emptiness in his belly, he pressed his lips together to vibrate a motorcycle sound through his mouth, casually blowing dark curls from his vision. 

An annoyed huff echoed across the thin walls, “This is boring,” Billy snarled, he was laying flat on Eddie’s bed, feet on the wall, throwing up his stretch Armstrong to himself before tossing it across the room, landing with a splat on the broken closet door. 

Eddie pushed himself up from the carpet, the fibers itching through the holes in his jeans and scratching his knees. 

He shrugs, running his tongue through the gap of his latest pulled tooth, “wanna see my guitar?” 

“No,” Billy huffed, his thumb nail catching along the ridges of the zippo lighter he had stolen from Melvalds, lighting a small flame that he quickly extinguished with the flip of the lid. “I wanna do something fun.”

“Alright then, genius,” Eddie scowls, sitting next to Billy on the brown and burgundy ripped threads of an afghan blanket, “what do you have in mind?” 

Billy swings his feet around, landing with ease and standing before his friend, the smirk on Billy’s face was one Eddie knew all too well. 

—

Neil and Al didn’t hear the boys sneak out from the back room, too drunk and elbow deep in “work” to notice their sons had pushed the screen outward and hopped down to the ground. 

“The instructions are clear, Al,” Neil said, his mouth around a can of Pabst, scrubbing a dirty thumbnail through his eyebrow, “here let me see that.” 

Al blows a cloud of smoke into the air, handing over the poorly written note on the back of the Hideout napkin, clad with ketchup stains and spilled coffee. “Don’t know how you can even read this shit.”

“I can read that’s how I can read it dumb fuck,” Neil snapped, grabbing the napkin from him, he looks over the scratchy pen marks, pointing at the instructions again, “see right there, Creel laid it all out for us.” 

“Okay wise ass, but it doesn’t make sense. How the hell are we supposed to break int- into that place without anyone seeing us?” Al puts the butt of his cigarette into the overflowing ashtray, blowing smoke around the side of his mouth. “It’s under surveillance and the guards are armed.” 

“The guards are armed.” Neil mocks, “Jesus Christ you sound just like a woman, how many cars have we boosted?”

“That’s different, easy. Breaking into a secret government lab? This is above our pay grade, and your skill level.” 

“Yeah and your big brains are why you got fired from the mill right?” 

“Shit,” Al downplays, “they didn’t pay worth a damn, boosting and dealin’ keep my pockets lined just fine.” 

“If only it was enough to keep Liz around right?”

“Don’t say that bitch’s name in this house, I’ll slit your throat and use it for an ashtray, Hargrove.” 

“Ahh shit,” Neil quips, “don’t get your panties wadded up, but back to this,” he says waving the napkin around, “the tunnels, that’s our way in.” 

—-

Eddie’s van is barreling down the highway like a bat out of hell. Nancy hasn’t stopped crying, slowly wiping her tears, with the front of her shirt, sniffling every so often. 

You’re grief stricken, numb to whatever the hell just happened, and what those things even were— and to top it all off, Eddie somehow knows?

Steve is leaning on the center console between you and Eddie, back seat driving and giving him directions on how to get to his house. 

At first Eddie had thought about going to his trailer, he knew his dad and Wayne kept their rifles in the back shed, but decided against it at the last minute, hollering over his shoulder for anyone having an idea of where to go. 

How safe could he keep everyone if his house was bordering on enemy lines? 

—-

1983

The Hargrove’s house was nestled on Cherry. Older but comfortable, a damn sight better than the paper thin walls of the trailer, and the soggy couch that reeked of spilt beer. 

Billy was going on and on about his girlfriends, yes plural. The blonde haired Gina or was it Jenny? And Tanya, the rich one who lived by Steve Harrington. 

Junior year was different for the boys, where Billy excelled in popularity with the jocks being a basketball star, Eddie fell into a different crowd, the Hellfire Club.  

They were still friends, still causing trouble on nights you couldn’t hang out, Billy now refusing entirely to hang out with Eddie when you were around, which you weren’t complaining about. 

Eddie takes another swig of Mt. Dew and continues drawing a rogue for one of the older guys, Nico, in Hellfire. He was only half listening to the way Billy was describing the differences between the girls, body type mostly. 

“If you want in on the action big boy just let me know, Gina loves hearing Metallica play when we steam up the windows in my car if ya know what I mean,” the cigarette hanging limply from his lips wiggled as he spoke, sending ashes down to his black converse. 

Eddie immediately thought of you. He wasn’t sure of his feelings when it came to you but he wondered if you’d be weirded out that Billy was planning to get him a date. How would you feel if he went out with some chick?

The idea of you kissing someone made his stomach turn, and not in a butterfly way. 

Instead of listening to Billy bitch about how much he can’t stand you and how you’re holding Eddie back he just went along with it, “yeah man, sounds good.” 

“Sounds good?” Billy questions, racking the weights he was lifting with a thud, checking his traps in his reflection, shooting a look over his shoulder, “I’m trying to get you laid, dude.” 

Eddie looks up from his seated position in the corner of Billy’s room, his fingers were silvery from shading the lines of his drawing, pinked eraser rubberings littered the front of his new Metallica shirt. “Yeah man, I’m down, what’s her number.” 

Eddie wrote the number on the corner of his paper, barely registering what else Billy was saying, his mind wandering to what kind of shit his dad was up to this time. 

Al was home for a longer stretch than normal this time, but he seemed to spend every waking minute at the Hargrove’s.

Eddie wasn’t dumb enough to think that his dad actually wanted to hangout with him. 

Oh no, Al Munson had his priorities whenever he came back to Hawkins with his tail between his legs, and seeing his only son wasn't the top of the list. 

He went to the bar first, picking out the waitress with zero confidence, saying all the right things and tipping her just enough to make her think she was really something. When her shift was over, he’d bring her to a sleazy by-the-hour motel, giving her the ol’ Munson magic and then, when she was in the shower or cleaning up in the bathroom, he’d bolt. Driving to the nearest gas station casino and spending whatever money the waitress had in her purse. 

He’d finally crawl back to Wayne’s when he was bone dry, claiming he was home “for good this time!” And how he, “just wanted to hangout with my boy!” 

Turns out the “hanging out” was going over to Neil’s and getting shitfaced drunk, bringing Eddie to tag along, to prove to his brother that he was a good dad. He failed to mention that Eddie would end up locked in Billy’s room until dawn. 

So no, getting laid wasn’t on Eddie’s mind right now. 

“I told Tommy H to leave you alone, told him I’d fuck his girlfriend again if I caught wind of him messing with you.” Billy said, shoving his chest out proudly. Maybe if he helped Eddie spread his wings, he’d stop getting picked on, but in Billy’s eyes, Eddie brought alot of it on himself sticking up for those fucking nerds he always hung out with. 

The Hargrove kitchen table was covered in the same paperwork they always were when Al came over. Weird haikus, and riddles that were partly solved, a timeline of when and where everything needed to take place, and lastly, a complete blueprint of Lonnie Byers’ house. 

Everything was just about set in stone, the only thing the men couldn’t figure out is why Creel had decided that it had to be Lonnie’s son as the baited sacrifice. And whenever they asked, Creel would say the same thing, “an eye for an eye.” 

—

1986

“Right here,” Steve said, pointing his hand in Eddie’s face and out the window to his big behemoth of a house. 

The kind of house that belonged to a homeowners society, telling you when, where, and how to water and mow your grass. Not the type of neighborhood that housed the brown piece of shit on wheels that was arriving into the Harrington driveway at record speeds. 

Steve fumbled with the door and had to pry Nancy away from the van, she was petrified, her body shaking and tense, beneath his arm. 

Eddie turns to you, tapping you gently on the shoulder and when you don’t move he guides your chin towards him, his heart breaking at the sight of your tear filled eyes. 

“I’m gonna keep you safe, okay?” His eyes were large and the worry on his face only made you more scared, but he tried to put on a brave face for you, “c’mon, we gotta get inside.” 

Steve’s home was decorated with expensive paintings and gold fixtures. The kind of decor that wasn't available at a mall but ordered from some lavish designer in New York. The living room had vacuum lines in the carpet, as if it were never used. The wood floors in the foyer sparkled from the overhead chandelier, it was a catalog home, looking as if it were staged for a photo 

shoot rather than people actually living in it. 

Nancy’s cries echoed loudly around the empty Harrington home, Steve scooped her up like an infant and carried her down the carpeted steps to the open basement. 

Eddie still wasn’t acting like himself, his eyes were clouded over with something you couldn’t pinpoint, plagued with grief? But you felt reassured when his fingers curled into the spaces between yours as you followed Steve and Nancy to the basement. 

—

NOVEMBER 9, 1983

“You working tonight?” Eddie asks at your locker, ringed fingers working over the corners of a Polaroid of you and him last summer when he tried to teach you how to skateboard. One of his favorite memories. 

“Nope,” you answer from deep inside your locker, looking for the crumbled history notes you swore you still had for todays test, emerging from the locker and hitting your head on the way out, “ow fuck! Nah I’m off tonight, Don closed since Joyce’s son has been gone, why what’s up?” 

Eddie shuts your locker and shifts his worn notebook to his other hand, “it’s Wednesday, the Hawk has free popcorn, thought maybe we could see a movie?”

It wasn’t weird for two friends to go to a movie together, you and Eddie had done it multiple times. Completely casual. Even if the heat from his fingers bumping against yours sent flutters to your stomach and he quickly moved his hand like you were a snake that had bit him, a blush forming on his cheeks. 

“What time?”

“I dunno, seven? Pick ya up at 6:30, that way we can stop and get snacks to sneak some snacks in to go with our free popcorn.” 

His boyish grin was the same from when you were kids, dimple dipped cheeks, and the darkest eyes twinkling with mischievous glee.

The door to Mr. Stanley’s Chem 210 was open and you stopped before going in the classroom to give Eddie your answer, “fine, but I want twizzlers.” 

—

“What the hell do you mean it’s not enough? We did exactly what you said, solved each fucking riddle!” 

The weathered boards of the Creel House groan as a screaming gust of wind slaps loud against the old home, the late winter storm rattled the wooden foundation and pelted the window panes with ice, pinging loudly with each large gale that forced its way through the cracks of the poorly maintained home.

A small fire crackled in the sunken fireplace, wafting dark plumes of smoke into the living room and ashing soot onto the cobweb covered furniture. 

“He makes the rules, I do not, I am simply a messenger, a ves—,” a tattered mitten hand cups around his mouth, acting as a poor excuse for a shield against a barking, wet cough. Lungs burning with each wheeze of oxygen leaving. He clears his throat when the fit is over, wiping his mouth with a moth bitten scarf around his sagging neck, leaving blood behind, “..vessel, I don’t make the rules, Neil.” 

“A what?” Al quizzes, shifting uncomfortably from his left leg to his right, “we delivered that kid exactly where you told us to! The whole town thinks he’s dead! Hawkins PD put out the report last night that a body was found by the quarry.” 

Creel pokes the fire with the blunt end of his cane, crumbling a reddened log into pieces, adding a wadded mass of newspaper, the face of Will Byers’ missing poster front and center, his cherub smile warping with the heated flame. 

“The boy is hiding somewhere. The creatures can not find him, he is convinced that there is help from our side.” 

“Impossible,” Al scoffed, rubbing the cold of his nose on his sleeve, “I just talked to Chief Hopper at the Hideaway last night, and according to him it’s a closed case, Lonnie and his former ol lady were making funeral arrangements.” 

“What you hear, and what you see, seem different ways to hold the key.”

“Enough with the psychological bullshit!” Neil yelled throwing his beer across the living room, “tell us what he needs from us.” 

The blackened tooth smile creeps onto Creel’s face his red chapped lips split and bleed, and he holds back his cough just long enough to whispers the same fallacy he was given only hours before, in another dimension identical to this one. 

“A son.” 

—

The wind was ripping snow across the streets of Hawkins. The windshield wipers on Eddie’s van had frozen in place, stopping half way in the middle of the windshield, the shitty wipers no match against the freezing, winter rain. 

You were certain that the seat belt in the passenger seat had never been used before tonight, but Eddie was insistent that you wore it, foregoing his own with a you’re kidding right? look. The whites of your knuckles shine bright with each overhead street lamp that dances lazily on the windshield, and Eddie looks over with a laugh.

“Almost there Pebs,” he mumbles, his mouth snug around the filter of a cigarette, a half smirk on his lips, “don’t worry.” 

The storm foiled more plans than just good driving conditions, apparently The Hawk had closed earlier that day when the windchill dipped down to the negatives, Sal ensuring that his employees had plenty of time to get home before the weather took a turn for the worst. Thankfully Family Video was still open, and Eddie’s trailer was empty for the night, save for a couple of beers in the fridge and the heat from an electric blanket. Apparently the manager of Family Video didn’t give a fuck about the roads, neither did the factory. 

You and Eddie were met with the rolling eyes of Steve Harrington as you two shoved each other out of the way to get into the door first, bringing with you a cold gust of wind and chattering teeth.  After securing The Poltergeist and two boxes of peanut M&M’s, you and Eddie were tucked into the tin can death trap on wheels, trekking slowly to Forest Hills Trailer Park. 

The bumpy driveway was nearly covered by the falling ice and snow, causing Eddie to slide into his parking spot, well the front yard, of trailer 8. Before he jiggles the key out of the ignition, a man’s shadow illuminated the front door, the burning end of a cigarette glowing on a presumed inhale, and Eddie mutters a ‘fuck’ under his breath.

“Stay here, okay?” He says with a shallow voice, his eyes never leaving the front door of the trailer, “I’ll be right back.”

What the hell was his dad doing at home this time? Maybe he was confused, thinking it was Thanksgiving already— probably wondering where the turkey and green bean casserole were. 

The door of the van groans as Eddie pushes it open with his shoe, slamming it shut and hearing the crinkle of built up ice breaking away from the frame. Ice was gathering in his hair as he scurried up the steps, the shadow moving away from the door so Eddie could come inside, and once the threshold was breached, he wasn’t surprised to see his dad standing in the kitchen, smoking a cigarette, long fingers wrapped around a can of Wayne’s breakfast PBR.

“There’s my boy,” Al greeted with a false tone of cheer laced in his voice, “only been waiting here for an hour, I need your help with somethin’.”

“Sorry,” Eddie mutters, shutting the door tight and shaking his hair free of the elements, “must have lost my schedule on your flight arrival.”

“Watch it,” Al snaps, his eyes are bloodshot and dark rimmed, voice gravelly, “I’m in no mood for your shit tonight, alright?”

Eddie tuts through his teeth and shoulder checks his old man before walking to the living room, pulling the cord from the wall jack, unplugging the tv. Holding it against his hip to bring it to his room.

“What the hell man, I was gonna watch that!” Al yells as Eddie trudges into his room, shoving shit off his dresser with a sweep of his arm, putting the small tv down he turns to find his dad right behind him, glaring menacingly at him, nose to nose. 

“The rabbit ears haven’t worked in months, guess you’ll have to go to Neil’s..”

His insult is cut short as Al grabs him by the lapels of his denim vest, shoving him into the closet door, busting it off the sliding track. 

“Listen to me you little fuck…” Al spits, literally into Eddie’s face, “I said I’m not in the mood for your shit tonight, ya got me? I need your fucking help for once in your life, can you manage that?” 

“Get off me,” Eddie sneers back, trying to hide the trembling in his jaw as he grits his teeth, “I’m serious.” 

I'm serious, Dad! Al mocks, shoving Eddie harder into the closet, the splintering wood busting beneath his shoulder blades. “I ain’t ever asked you for nothin’ in your whole damn life, let you live here with Wayne, no rules no nothin’ and now it’s time to pay up. I need a favor.” 

His eyes were shocking in a desperate way, anger riddling his irises. 

Eddie thinks fast to his underwear drawer, the wad of cash shoved into an old sock underneath a sticky playboy, “I don’t sell whatever you’re on, and I don’t have any cash.” 

“Ain’t about money, or horse, Eddie boy, you remember my friend, the one that lives in the old house on Morehead?” 

Eddie thinks back to all the “friends” Al had ever introduced him to. There was Bud the one who owned the bowling alley in Bridgeport that had a fake eye and an gnarly looking scar on his face from a dog bite, Willy Jack who helped take the plates off of the van and scratch up the VIN number when they stole it from that scrap yard north of town, he even painted it any color Eddie wanted, but somehow the friend he was talking about wasn’t registering. 

Raising an eyebrow, Eddie shakes his head no. “Doesn’t matter,” Al said all too quick, “his son has been missin’ see, for years, and we need your boys’ help finding him.” 

“Who’s we?” Eddie asks, finally wiggling free from his dads hands, straightening his jacket, “and why the fuck do I need to find him?” 

A closed fist breaks through the paneled wall next to his chin, “enough with the questions Eddie goddamnit! I need you on this, and you’re not gonna tell me ‘no’ you understand me?” 

Eddie had never hated his dad more than he did at this moment. If he were older he’d swing a fist into his gut, knock his lights out once and for all, but he didn’t dare, shoulders slumped and the weight of the world and all its guilt piled onto him. He had no idea what kind of shit his dad was getting him into, only the gut wrenching feeling that something was terribly wrong, and the only thing he could do was nod his head, agreeing to lend his trembling hand. 

Across town on Cherry lane, Neil Hargrove was having the same friendly little “discussion” with Billy, but the conversation was different, lighter, happier, and the two Hargrove men seemed to be on the same page for once in their lives. 

—

OCT. 1986

The Harrington’s basement was set up much like the Wheeler’s but on a grander scale. Large tv tucked behind an oak cabinet,, a beige leather couch that seemed to stretch across the entire living room area, a surround sound system in each corner,  two bedrooms and a full bathroom. Setting Nancy down on the plus couch and covering her small form with a wool blanket, Steve opens a closet door and wrangles out a new set of golf clubs, leaning them against the wall, and running his hair through his fingers, as if he’s trying to make a mental list of household objects that could be used as a weapon. 

The phone rings noisily in one of the bedrooms and Steve leaves to answer it. 

Eddie still has your fingers between his, his rings leaving small indents but you don’t mind, it’s a comfort. He’s muttering to himself, in a tone only he can hear, biting the nails on his right hand with grinding clicks of his teeth. Looking at you his expression falters for a split second, trying to put on a calming mask, nonchalant-like even though inside he was screaming. 

It wouldn’t be long before the Demodogs came, especially if the Demogorgons were out, would he be looking for him? Wondering where he has been? Why he’s been gone? 

He guides you to the couch, a grand gesture with his nail bitten hand, grabbing a blanket and putting it around you. 

Steve emerges from the back bedroom, a tiny bit of relief in his eyes, “that was Robin, they’re on their way here, I guess they barely made it out.” 

You wince at the thought of everyone dead at the carnival, the way Argyle’s body was ripped to shreds, the howling cackle from Creel, the way he stood with his arms in a welcoming hug, just an hour ago you were convinced you were going to kiss your best friend, now the majority of Hawkins was dead. 

Steve turns to Eddie, with wide searching eyes, fumbling for the right words but failing, “I need answers man, right now.” 

—

Robin hangs up the phone, blood drying on her fingers from when she tripped over the gaping carcass of Tammy Thompson, her face covered with streaks of dirt and god knows what else, “ Let’s go! Everyone’s at St—”

A stinging in her spine brings heat, warm and dripping, then fiery hot, a hand on her shoulder she turns to see his maniacal eyes, the blood from the gash on his head now trickling into his mouth, white pearls stained in ruby. 

“I did you a solid Rob, killed that bitch for you—didn’t even think twice about it, because we’re friends,”  blood now trickling down her back into the waist of her scoops ahoy uniform shorts, she garbles a breath cusping on the breath of a question. 

“shh,” he reassures, wiping tears from her freckles lined cheeks, extracting the knife from the well in her back, he helps her lie down gently, “this isn’t going to kill you, it’s just temporary you see? I can’t have any distractions, I can’t let you get in my way, but don’t worry!”

 He moves to rip the phone cord from its hook, “I’ve done so much research on this meticulously studying over books on ways to cut the human body, what would hurt the worst, the least, the angle of the knife  was just right, I guess I could be wrong,” he scratches his head, the whites of his eyes rolling as the smell of blood starts to work him up, an ache he can’t scratch, “hmm… take care, yeah? I’ll be back.” 

A pool of blood blossoms from Robin’s back, flowing into the blue carpet fibers of her room— in tandem with the slow blink of her eyelashes meeting. 

The ignition of his car engine backfires with a gunshot noise, the bloody knife he used to kill the others laid gently on the leather of his passenger seat. 

Driving down the desolate streets of Hawkins, he looks in the rearview mirror, and for the first time, Jonathan Byers likes what he sees. 

♡tag list: @dashingdeb16 @emxxblog @mopeymopeymouse @pretendthisnameisclever @mommybaby-witch @eddies-acousticguitar @tlclick73 @figmentofquinn @eddies-stinky-battle-jacket @whenshelanded @micheledawn1975 @3rd-conchord * @leelei1980 @mopeymopeymouse @browneyes8288 @emilyslutface @mmunson86 @josephquinnsfreckles @eddiesxangel @elegantkoalapaper * @str4ngergirlw0rld * @corrodedcoffincumslut @nailbatanddungeon @katethetank @munsons-mayhem28 * @mandyjo8719 @joannamuns9n @littlebookworm86 @hunnybuns-world @feyremunson

[bryscorner]

Hello Spring! - S.C.

spring had finally sprung. spending this time of year with sarah meant breezy sunny mornings spent out on your porch, having many wonderful picnics in random fields, picking out beautifully arranged flowers for each other, going book shopping and reading with each other in the backyard ‘baby l’m done reading my book for now, can you read to me?’ with sarah looking at you with her big doe eyes how could you ever say no to her! ‘of course my love’ as you start reading where you left off and feeling sarah lay on your lap closing her eyes in content,

bike rides on trails that could eventually lead to hidden lakes, star gazing at night while laying on the grass cuddling each other lovingly and planning the next time she comes to visit you again ‘you should definitely visit during the fall or winter! then we can do different activities that you probably haven’t done yet!’ sarah looks adoringly at you and smiles as her eyes sparkle with nothing but love for you as you explain some of the festivities that happen in your town during those two seasons ‘that would be amazing to experience with you baby, once I’m back in the obx I’ll ask my parents to come back later on this year!’,

visiting a petting zoo to see all the cute animals, sharing loving kisses under the rain as the both of you dance and attempt to splash each other with the rain puddles, adorable matching outfits that you two wear while visiting farmers markets, painting rocks for each other as little souvenirs to keep (especially when sarah goes back to obx and misses you), making a variety of flower crowns for each other (keeping the ones sarah has made for you hanging in your bedroom even if they have wilted),

buying dainty initial necklaces for each other, making each other playlists to remember this time of season when you two are apart, taking a lot of polaroids of each other wherever you two go, painting each others nails when you have nothing to do, finding sarah braiding your hair and adding ribbons to it ‘you looks absolutely beautiful honey’ she adds as she admires her work

tangled in each others limbs when in bed and admiring each other as the first light of day creeps through your curtains, having some form of physical touch just because sarah needs and loves to touch you (sexual or not), kisses upon each others knuckles, chaste kisses on the cheeks, etc. ‘sar, what are you doing love?’ feeling sarah pepper kisses along your shoulders as she watches you make brownies in the kitchen as the music in the background hums a soft melody ‘nothing…just wanted to give you some love’ as she snakes her arms around your waist from behind

sarah just absolutely adores and loves you with every fiber of her being, you’re her best girl how could she not?, getting to spend time and visit you is always an adventure and she couldn’t wait until she’s able to come back again as she eagerly counts down the days until you’re back in each others arms <3

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

4th of July Reruns: Independence Day

Happy 4th of July week to all who celebrate it! I have a couple of old 4th of July themed CS fics that I thought I'd share with all of you, and if all goes well, I'll have a new 4th of July fic to add to Fluffy Fridays this Friday!

Word Count: 2082

Tagging a few people who may be interested (Let me know if you want to be added or taken off the list): @sailormew4 @annaamell @flslp87 @emmateo26 @bethacaciakay 

@ultraluckycatnd @effulgent-mind @ilovemesomekillianjones @kat2609 @brooke-to-broch 

@missgymgirl @galadriel26 @the-lady-of-misthaven @charmingturkeysandwich @jennjenn615 

@laschatzi @kimmy46 @snowbellewells @iamanneenigma @daxx04 

@nickillian  @gillie  @britishguyslover @ginnyjinxedandhanshotritafirst @kmomof4

 @linda8084 @golfgirld @captain-swan-coffee @searchingwardrobes @hollyethecurious 

@laughswaytoomuch  @allyourdarlingswans  @winterbaby89 @facesiousbutton82 @therooksshiningknight 

@lfh1226-linda @tiganasummertree @jrob64  @anmylica @booksteaandtoomuchtv

 @i-will-sing-no-requiem @bluewildcatfanatic @laianely

Summary: This fic was originally posted to my Fluffy Fridays collection sometime around season 6. At the time, it was a "future fic", but now it is more of a slight canon divergence. With the Black Fairy defeated and the final battle won, Storybrooke is enjoying it's happily ever after and trying to make new memories. Emma has some exciting news for Killian.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Independence Day

CS Genre: Future Fic

Spring slowly sizzled into summer—a particularly hot and humid summer in Storybrooke that had Emma grateful that they had indeed decided to stay in the Land Without Magic, a place where air conditioners were a thing.

Ever since the Black Fairy was defeated a few months ago, she and Killian had responded to far more “cat stuck in a tree” or “Leroy double parked in front of Granny’s” calls than “weird, fairy tale villain intent on world domination just destroyed something” calls.

In fact, they’d had no calls about fairy tale villains.  It seemed Storybrooke had finally settled down into a peaceful, sleepy little town, with its requisite cast of eccentric characters.

It had never been the kind of life Emma had imagined she would lead—sheriff in a small town where everyone knows everyone else, married to her true love and so happy she thought she might die from it.  But though it might not be the life she’d expected for herself, it was a life she loved with every fiber in her being.

Even when Regina decided to institute regular town meetings to discuss town business.  (Seriously, they really were turning into Stars Hollow.)  It was at one such meeting about a month ago, that the whole big production had been decided on.

“Now that we’re not, you know, fighting villains every other day,” Leroy had said when Regina called on him to speak, “I think we need to start participating in normal society things.  The 4th of July is coming up.  Let’s do it up right.  Parade, fireworks, the whole shebang.”

Killian leaned over to Emma.  “Perhaps I’m missing something love, but what exactly is the significance of the 4th day of July, and why would it call for an unusual amount of festivity?”

Emma smirked, so glad to get back to the business of enlightening Killian about the modern world rather than, you know, trying not to die or trying to keep him from dying.  “It’s Independence Day in the United States, which is technically the country we live in.  Lots of celebrating goes on that day.”

He’d, as usual, wanted to pepper her with about a million questions.  Seriously, her husband wanted to know everything about everything.  Usually, Emma dealt with it by telling him to go look it up on the “magic box”, aka Internet, but that wasn’t exactly practical during a town meeting.  Seriously, Regina was as strict about “no talking!” in her meetings as the most demanding teacher. 

“Shhh!,” Emma had said as various members of the town began brainstorming ideas for the best (and, honestly the first) 4th of July Storybrooke had ever celebrated.  “You can look it up later.”

In the end they had decided to go with, as Leroy put it, the whole patriotic “shebang”.  There would be a parade through the main street of town in the morning—complete with the Storybrooke high school band and various prominent citizens dressed in their Enchanted Forest finest.  Emma wasn’t sure exactly what their Enchanted Forest attire had to do with the 4th of July, but she’d long since learned not to question these kind of decisions.  It only led to confusion and headaches.  Oh so many headaches.

(And to be honest, as the meeting was really ramping up, Emma realized kind of vaguely that she’d been having more headaches lately…along with way more nausea at weird times…and moments where she felt faint…and so much exhaustion she felt like she could barely get out of bed some mornings.  Maybe she should make an appointment with Dr. Whale to see what was going on with her, but she thought she’d give it a few more weeks.  After all, she’d been under a lot of stress since….well, basically since she moved to Storybrooke, and these weird symptoms were probably nothing more than her body sloughing off the stress and trying to get used to this strange new phenomenon known as “peace”.)

Anyway, the festivities would continue with a town picnic around noon and then fireworks as night fell.

And so it was that Henry and Killian spread out a blanket on the hill overlooking town on the evening of the 4th of July.  Emma set her picnic basket on the blanket, and then sat down beside it, reaching for the ginger ale she always had at the ready lately.  With a small, secret smile, she put a hand on her flat stomach, both excited and terrified about the news she’d received just the day before.

“And you’re sure we’re quite safe, here, love?”  Killian asked as he sat beside her.  “I must admit to being more than a little uneasy at the thought of the dwarfs setting off explosive devices for our amusement.  It seems like a terrible idea.”

They’d talked about fireworks as soon as they’d returned from the town meeting back in June, and Henry had been amazed that Killian had never seen a fireworks display.  “Are you serious?”  Henry asked.  “You’ve never seen fireworks?  Fireworks have been around for like…ever.  I know they were a thing in the Enchanted Forest.  I saw them in my storybook—during Cinderella’s wedding!”

Killian shrugged.  “Oh aye,” he’d said, “I’d heard of them, of course, but as a slave I’d not had much occasion to observe them.  And then once I’d become a pirate…well, I was far more interested in causing the explosions than viewing them.”

“But fireworks are way better than just explosions!” Henry had assured.  “They’re colorful and sparkly.  Sometimes they have special designs.  Some of them light up the sky, and others are like…little bursts of bright light and sound.  And fireworks displays always have a grand finale and it’s just…I can’t explain it, but it’s awesome!”

“How precisely do they work?” Killian asked.  “One lights a fuse and there is an explosion, aye, that I understand, but how do such explosions result in different formations and colors?”

“They just…do,” Henry said, with a little shrug.  “I don’t know how it works.  I just know it’s amazing.”

“I believe I shall consult Mr. Google, then, lad,” Killian said.  “I find it far preferable to understand the mechanisms of my entertainment.”

Of course he did.  Emma should have known.  It had been two weeks after they’d moved in together before they could have their first family movie night because Killian insisted on researching what movies were, how they were made, how they were projected on screen, and how thin, circular discs inserted in a machine could cause said movies to appear on the “moving picture box”.

Her husband was a full-fledged nerd.  A hot one, for sure, but a nerd nonetheless.

“Yes, Killian,” Emma said, coming back to the present and laying her head on her husband’s shoulder.  “I’m sure everything is totally safe.  Leroy’s got everything organized.  Just relax and enjoy the show.”

“I shall attempt to do so,” Killian said, “but I fail to see how colorful lights can elicit as much excitement as you and the lad…ooooooh!”

Emma giggled as the first firework—a large one that changed color from red to white to blue, lit up the Storybrooke night sky.  Killian looked up at the display in wonder, his eyes wide as saucers, a soft, boyish smile draping his face.

Sometimes she looked up at him and it just overwhelmed her all over again how much she loved him.  Now was one of those times.  She felt the tears come to her eyes, and Killian looked down at her in concern.  As usual, he could sense her moods.

“Is all well, Swan?” he asked in concern, reaching up to catch the single tear that fell from her eye.

“It’s more than alright, Killian,” Emma said.  “It’s perfect.  All of this is perfect.  I just love you so much, and I love our life together, and I don’t know what I ever did to deserve it, but life is just about perfect right now.”

He smiled tenderly, and leaned in to kiss her, but just before their lips connected, another firework went off, and Killian turned back to the light display.  Emma smiled, laying her head once again on his shoulder as Henry wandered off to find Violet and watch the show with her.

The fireworks went on and on, and as they moved closer to the grand finale, Emma heard one of the dwarfs (she thought it was Happy’s job?) start the music.  It had been decided that they would end the fireworks display with the 1812 overture, complete with the big finale coming during the cannon fire in the music.

Of course, as soon as it had been decided, Killian had gone to the library and pestered Belle for any information she could give him about the piece of music.

“The customs of this land are incomprehensible, love,” Killian had said that night as he helped her make dinner.  “Why is it customary for this ‘1812 Overture’ to be played at celebrations of this country’s founding?  The founding did not happen in 1812, but a generation before.  What’s more, the piece was written to commemorate an event that has nothing to do with the United States.  That Tchaikovsky fellow wrote the piece to commemorate the moment the Russians defeated Napoleon in his attempts to take over Russia. (Incidentally, is it only me, love, or does this Napoleon sound significantly like the Crocodile?  Small in stature, lust for power, dreams of world domination…)”

“I really don’t know why the 1812 is so popular,” Emma said as she carefully pulled a casserole from the oven.  “It just…is.”

“And it’s full of nationalistic anachronisms,” Killian had continued.

“What’s full of…what?” Henry asked, filching a roll from the bread dish and sitting at the table.

Emma rolled her eyes.  “Your step-dad was about to explain about all the nationalistic anachronisms (whatever those are) in ‘The 1812 Overture’.”

“Quite so,” Killian said.  “The piece features the French national anthem, La Marseillaise, for example, but in 1812, the song had been banned by Napoleon (the total ponce).  Furthermore, the piece utilizes the Russian anthem ‘God Save the Tsar’ near the end, but it had not yet been written as of 1812.  Not much of a historian, this Tchaikovsky.”

Henry groaned.  “Mom, I think we need to ban him from the library.  I already have to suffer through history lessons in school.  Don’t need them when I get home, too.”

A particularly loud volley of fireworks brought Emma back to the present.

“So, are you enjoying your first 4th of July?” Emma asked.

“It’s been quite enjoyable, Swan,” Killian said, “but then any day I get to spend with you and the lad is.”

Emma’s nerves began dancing within her stomach (or was that just the nausea again).  The moment was just about here.  As soon as she’d learned the news from Whale, she’d decided she’d tell Killian just at the climax of the fireworks show.  She wanted to make this moment special.

She just hoped he was as excited about the news as she was.  They hadn’t talked much about it.  This wasn’t something they’d planned; it had just sort of…happened.  What if this wasn’t what he wanted?

“Anything the matter, Swan?” Killian asked just as the cannon began to boom in the music.

“No,” Emma said, taking a deep breath.  “Something’s actually pretty great.  At least I hope you think it is.  I mean, I do, but we haven’t talked about it and…”

“Swan,” Killian said, looking more concerned than ever, “out with it, love.”

Emma took a deep breath, and then leaned in and whispered in his ear.  “Killian, in about 7 ½ months you’re going to be a daddy again.”

His eyes got round again, as he sat up abruptly.  “A father?  I’m to be a father?  You’re with child?”

She smiled tremulously.  “Yeah, Whale thinks I’m about 6 weeks along.  Are you…are you happy about it?  I mean I know we haven’t really discussed it and this is a surprise and…”

He cut her off with a swift, passionate kiss, his hand moving to rest on her still flat belly.  When he pulled back, there were tears in his eyes.  “How can you even ask that, Swan?  Of bloody course I’m happy.  A baby!  A product of our love!  I do believe my life is now absolutely perfect!”

Emma leaned over and kissed him again, the tears streaming from her eyes as overhead the fireworks celebrated right along with the Savior and her Pirate.

[lu-is-not-ok]

hello i have no idea if you have analyzed Impending Day Sinclair yet or not (or if u r even still doing analyses) but if you are.... perchance could you analyze Impending Day Sinclair??

Aaaalright, let's get right into it. This is... gonna be an interesting one.

So, as always, let's start off with the Abnormality - Doomsday Calendar. And, my god, what an Abnormality it is. Four whole phases in its fight, each one with unique passives and attacks and mid-battle events (which, mind you, the Fandom Wiki still doesn't list)... I've got my job cut out for me here.

Now, because of just how many phases this fight has, I'm going to go in a slightly different order than I usually would for Abno analysis. We're gonna go Phase by Phase, as I personally think that's a slightly better way of analyzing it than throwing all the Attacks on the table at once and trying to dig for a meaning there.

Got that? Alright, cool.

The fight against Doomsday Calendar starts with Phase 1, which for the sake of the Analysis I'll call the Prelude.

During the Prelude, we're met with a couple of Doomsday Clay Dolls, a sort of "minion" entity to the Abnormality proper.

Let's briefly talk about those Clay Dolls so as to not get distracted later. First of all, it's not really shown to us how these Dolls are made so to say, but we do get to see the Calendar revive these Dolls with every progressing Phase. This is confirmed by their passive, Idolatry, which says that they don't die when reaching 0 HP, simply staying there untargetable and immobile until the next phase, or until the Abnormality is fully surpressed.

Interestingly enough, the Abno Logs describing the Clay Dolls never explicitly say that they're made of clay, but there is that implication that that's the case as their bodies are describes as resembling muscle fibers, and with their name being corrected from "flesh dolls" to "clay dolls" in an Abno Log later on. I don't think it's too important to Doomsday Calendar itself, but I did notice that just now and have a feeling it connects to some wider themes that are slowly being presented throughout Limbus Company.

Beyond that, their passive name and Lust skills imply they only exist to admire, love, and serve the god-like figure that is Doomsday Calendar.

Looping back to the Prelude, during this phase Doomsday Calendar does not act and is completely unargetable. It has only one Passive during this stage - Let the Blood Festival Flow, describing what has to be done to progress to the next phase.

This gives us a very interesting image already. Each of the phases after the Prelude are "Festivals", or specifically religious celebrations. A very dark and ironic take on this idea, seeing as each of these Festivals requires a human sacrifice, though I may be getting a little ahead of myself.

Once the Clay Dolls are defeated, Phase 2, the Blood Festival begins. The Clay Dolls are revived, with an extra one joining in. Doomsday Calendar awakens, sprouting arms that it uses to attack the Sinners.

Here, Doomsday Calendar makes use of two different Sin Affinities. Sloth for the attacks Quake and Slam, the animations of which are the Calendar literally just slamming its fists against the ground as if having a tantrum; and Lust for Live Offering, in which the Calendar grabs a Sinner and puts them in its... uh... Mouth? Facehole? Basically, the Calendar is hungry and needs to be fed.

The first mid-fight event happens after one turn. Immediately, the text here paints a specific image. The sacrifice done to appease is called a gift, a tribute if a Clay Doll is offered. It's described to be the way to calm someone down that the Abnormality likes the most. The gift it specifically seeks here is fresh blood, and it becomes satiated once it recieves what it wants.

Perhaps the phases are Festivals to the Calendar as it's recieving gifts in the form of these offerings, but to the people around it they're really more like Rituals meant to stave off whatever calamity this god will bring.

Something else to note here is an interesting sense of inevitability. Doomsday Calendar becomes satiated by the blood, yes, but it only calms down "for a moment". It will inevitably grow hungry once more, and will need to be fed again to quiet down its tantrums.

Once again, the Calendar's Passive here gives us an idea of the next phase - Let the Fire Festival Ignite.

Upon being damaged enough, Doomsday Calendar's phase 3 begins, the Fire Festival.

In this phase, all of the Clay Dolls begin Burning, creating fire within their masks and gaining the Wrath Affinity skill to belch out the fire, perhaps expelling it out as if trying to get rid of it.

Additionally, Doomsday Calendar takes on some interesting behavior here. It doesn't actually attack, only using a guard skill named Stalwart Altar, something that further exemplifies its role as something to give Ritualistic offerings, as well as adding to the idea of it being inevitable, indestructible. Something that will always come back, no matter how many times it's staved off.

Beyond the Phase-changing Passive, Doomsday Calendar also has a second Passive during the Fire Festival - Frenzy, which inflicts burn to all its enemies.

If the Blood Festival was about satiating the Calendar's hunger for blood, then the Fire Festival is about cooling down its simmering rage and raging fire.

The second mid-fight event takes place two turns into this phase. The text says that to weaken the Abnormality's flames, one would use cool water, before noting that the Sinners don't just carry buckets of water around. Does this imply that the 'proper' Ritual here would have been to offer up water as a gift? It would make sense, after all during the Blood Festival the Calendar only wants blood, not specifically human blood. Perhaps in that case, just animal sacrifice would have sufficed as well.

Tangent aside, if a Sinner is chosen to be offered up, the prompt for the skill check specifically asks for someone with a "cold heart", and even beforehand the text asks for someone "cool" to be offered up instead of water. Upon success, the Abnormality's fervor is cooled, and its flame shrinks to a flicker.

Note again the idea if only pushing back the inevitable. The Abnormality's flame isn't fully put out, it only shrinks to something much more manageable, something that will need time to build up again. These Festivals aren't really solutions to the problem, they're merely bandaids and duct tape meant to give people a little bit more time.

The last part of this phase is the Passive that tells us of the next one - Let the Star Festival Fall, which activates when Doomsday Calendar is hurt enough.

During Phase 4, the Star Festival, none of the Clay Dolls act, and the Calendar only uses one attack - Universe Aflame, which has Envy Affinity. First, it uses them on its allies, and if the last mid-fight event, it uses it on all the Sinners, which causes a unique death animation when it kills. And uh, it will Very Likely kill, because that shit is a 35-45.

As for the reason it's an Envy attack... I believe the event that happens after it kills its allies explains it well.

The Abnormality isn't the one being given an offering here, and it's not the one causing the calamity, rather it's only a gateway, a vessel for the actual cause of the Doomsday - the stars.

Stars are... an extremely important theme in Limbus, and it began as far back as Lobotomy Corporation. I don't want to go on too long of a tangent about that here, since it's only a small part of Doomsday Calendar, but let it be known that the stars in this series seem to be entities of unimaginable power in their own right.

Back to the event at hand, the text here describes the stars as "twinkling", saying that when they shine, they will rob the Sinners of their sight.

That specific idea makes me think of the sun specifically, as its (hopefully) common knowledge that staring directly at the sun could blind you. This is fitting for Doomsday Calendar, which includes a sun-like design as part of its stone plate. Doomsday Calendar being related to the sun also explains a lot of its other quirks, such as its connection to fire and even the whole thing with human sacrifices, as that connected with it being clearly inspired by Aztec stone calendars further relates it to the idea of a sun god.

Just like with the other sacrifices, this offering is also called a "gift", though here it is explicitly given to the stars rather than the Abnormality. This event also forces you to pick a Sinner rather than a Clay Doll, and the skill check prompt explains why - the person being offered up needs to have a voice that could "lull the stars to sleep". If this lullaby succeeds, the stars are put into a deep slumber, their light leaving people be "for a while".

For a while... again with that idea of inevitability. Putting the stars to sleep only puts off their awakening for later, it doesn't actually stop it. With time, they will inevitably twinkle once more, and their starlight will again threaten to "blind" everyone.

While this may not be enough to fully stop the stars, succeeding at this skill check is enough to suppress Doomsday Calendar.

That was... a lot. Let's take a look at the Abno Log before we try to come up with some themes for this thing.

The main details that we learn from these Logs are as such:

The pedestal the stone plate is on is actually made of wood, it only looks like it's woven from muscles.

The plate is confirmed to be a form of calendar, tying into the idea of foretelling some inevitable calamity.

The plate physically changes with each progressing Festival, being noted as becoming more ominous with each change.

Being killed via offering to the Calendar doesn't seem to kill in the traditional sense, rather it seems to disconnect the consciousness of the offered from their body and... it's unclear what exactly they see since Yi Sang's too traumatized to make sense in the Log, but it's clear it's some form of End of Everything.

Now then... What the hell kinda themes can we extract from all this?

The biggest one that I've probably spoiled in this write-up is the theme of some inevitable calamity. An End of the world, whether literal or metaphorical, that can never be truly stopped, only delayed indefinitely.

Another theme I can see here is this dissonance between two parties. Something that one sees as a horrible act being seen as something to celebrate by someone else. Sacrifices seen as gifts, Rituals seen as Festivals, the stars' light bringing forth darkness for others.

Last theme I want to bring up here is the concept of a harbinger. A calendar with a deadline on it isn't what's causing that deadline, it's only warning you of that deadline approaching. Likewise, the Star Festival shows us that the Doomsday Calendar isn't the one directly causing calamities, it's only a vessel through which other forces act, and through which they can also be calmed to delay the inevitable.

With all of that laid out... Impending Day Sinclair. Oh man, Impending Day Sinclair.

Let's start off with the Awakening attack, shall we? Here, the... staff? Mace? Hammer? The weapon that Sinclair uses takes on a form mimicking the shape Doomsday Calendar's plate has during the Blood Festival phase. This corresponds nicely with the effect this attack has, being healing and granting a buff on a kill, as if devouring the target similarly to how Doomsday Calendar needs blood to be satiated during the corresponding phase.

The dialogue line, "I’ll crush you…", doesn't really tell us much by itself. Sinclair's delivery here is sort of strained, not exactly scared but not angry either. Anticipating, perhaps? Readying himself? Trying to show restraint? It's a little bit hard for me to tell. What I do find interesting is how this line seems to roughly correspond with the type of attack Doomsday Calendar does during its Blood Festival phase - pounding and slamming the ground with its arms. Likewise, the type of attack Sinclair goes for here is slamming down onto the target, pushing them further down to the ground.

Considering how the Blood Festival phase shows us Doomsday Calendar seemingly having a tantrum out of impatience, is this meant to be a reflection of Sinclair in some way?

Of how he acted out, not exactly out of impatience but more so out of the anxious anticipation of his upcoming prosthetic procedure, leading to him breaking his family's trust and indirectly causing them to be "crushed" by Kromer?

Then, there's the Corrosion attack. Sinclair's weapon here takes on a form mimicking that of Doomsday Calendar's plate during the Fire Festival phase, showing the progression of intensity. The mechanics and animation aren't as close of a parallel to that fight's phase, considering Doomsday Calendar only guards during it, but I think there is still something to be noted here.

During the Fire Festival, Doomsday Calendar can be best described as "simmering" in my opinion. Letting its raging flame be known while also seemingly calmly waiting for an offering to be given. Likewise, Corroded Sinclair could also be described as simmering in this attack, gaining a buff but also being hurt if he fails to kill. His dialogue line's delivery also gives off that vibe of a controlled frenzy - sounding calm yet at moments being so intense it almost makes him sound ecstatic.

His line here, "You, too, will be a live offering.", is... interesting. It's as direct of a reference to the Abnormality as it can get, but there's just something about it that makes me wonder. The wording of 'You, too' brings to mind the image of someone having already been offered up beforehand. Who was this previous offering? Who is this current one?

In the Fire Festival phase, the offering given to the Abnormality is meant to weaken its flames, to cool its fervor. It patiently waits for it, like an Altar, while damage is caused all around it. Perhaps, just like in the Awakening the calamity being brought forth represents Kromer, the Corrosion represents how Kromer patiently waited for the second 'offering', Sinclair himself, to show up at her altar, while N Corp's Inquisitors burned down everything for her in the meantime.

Finally, we have the Sin Analysis portion of this post.

Impending Day's Sin Affinity is Wrath, the Sin of defiance and the audacity to try and change the world. I think that perfectly represents what sort of 'impending day' this E.G.O represents. By acting with Wrath, by trying to delay the inevitable procedure and trusting Kromer, Sinclair became the harbinger of the calamity she brought.

Just like how in Doomsday Calendar's fight delaying one calamity only brings forth another, Sinclair delaying the end of his world that losing his organic body meant to him only brought forth a different kind of end to his world.

When it comes to Sin Resource Cost, Impending Day requires two Sins - Wrath (3 of them) and Lust (2 of them).

Wrath requirement is already partially explained by the Affinity. Sinclair needs to wish to defy his reality, to delay the seemingly inevitable, to be willing to rebel against his family, for the Kromerity (that is, Kromer calamity) to take place.

Lust is an interesting Sin requirement here. I believe it's meant to represent Sinclair seeking fulfillment, specifically a fulfilling life and a form of social fulfillment. On one hand, he's seeking a way to continue living this his organic body, as it's the way of being he finds far more preferrable and comfortable to the cold prosthetics he sees his family using. On the other hand, there's the social fulfillment that comes from befriending Kromer and listening to her further justifying his own disgust. Both of those contribute to him being compelled to trust Kromer, thus bringing forth the Kromerity.

When it comes to Sin Resistances, interestingly enough the only one Impending Day Sinclair shares with Doomsday Calendar is being Fatal to Sloth. By resigning himself to his fate, to the initial calamity, Sinclair could have avoided this whole situation, which is something he's painfully aware of.

Impending Day Sinclair being fatal to Gloom is also a reflection of his regrets. If only he had listened to his doubts and worries in the moment, if only he had let his initial anxiety around Kromer lead him away from her, perhaps this all could have been avoided.

On the other hand, Wrath is ineffective against Impending Day Sinclair. After all, Wrath is what led him into this situation in the first place, but it's also what can get him out right now. By directing that Wrath against Kromer, by defying what she wants, he can delay her next inevitable calamity.

To properly summarize, since I really should summarize these posts more often, Impending Day represents Sinclair's role as a harbinger of the calamity Kromer would bring, and how his attempts at delaying his own prosthetic procedure led to him and his family becoming 'offerings' to her. It's a reflection of his guilt, of the role he believes he played in this tragedy.

So... yeah. Hope that was enjoyable to read, I don't know how long this post turned out to be and at this point I'm afraid to ask!

[fossilizednewt]

This is the latest thing I have knitted. So, my sister raises sheep for meat and fiber. Last winter she decided to use up some fleeces that were not the right specs to be commercially spun at her local spinnery, and were not high enough quality to sell to local hand-spinners. So she drop-spindle spun this lovely soft white yarn and a coarser black yarn (the sheep are mixed breeds Romney/border Leicester whatever that means and this sheep has coarse guard hairs and she didn’t feel like removing them so the yarn is coarse). Then she asked me if I felt like making her some mittens with pretty patterns because I have more patience for that sort of thing than she does. So we pick out some patterns motifs and I do a swatch and it’s 5 stitches per inch on size 3 needles so the patterns we picked work perfect to fit the stitch count I need to fit her hands. I was going to do striped thumbs but then changed my mind and did the same pattern from the palm on the thumbs. I think the coarse black yarn will help these mittens be durable and hold up to being work mittens on her farm. The natural lanolin in the wool was nice on my hands when I was knitting and should be nice on her hands when she is working. Anyway, finished them in July 2024. They will be entered into the VT sheep and wool festival for judging this fall. My sister will also submit the remainder of the yarn for judging. Will update I suppose.

[oh-its-souichi]

Orochimaru x Reader

- I had this idea and typed it in a rush, its pretty vague but 😅 hope ya'll like it-

Losing you was agony.

Watching you die was torment

The way you bled out before him, you gentle eyes never once leaving his face. You were smiling at him, you werent happy, though. It wasn't a smile of joy but one of pity. Pity because you knew what was going to happen once you left him.

Orochimaru stared down at you with baited breaths and a searing pain in his chest. "What can I do!" He yelled for the first time since he was a child feeling true panic, true fear. "Y/N what do I do!" He screamed. You tenderly reached your hand to him, collecting what little strength you had left for the gesture. He turned his head and slammed his fist on the wall. "You were always weak, it disgusting how fucking weak you are!" He screamed involuntary tears flooding out of his eyes, he felt intoxicated, things around him becoming less and less real with each slow breath you took. He flipped around to look at you, to continue beraitment, but your hand was dropped and your eyes empty, inanimate.

He sighed, the breath shakey and unsure like the reality he now inhabited now that the frame of his life had gone. He collapsed down onto his kness and brought his hands to his head, twisting his fingers into his long black hair, gripping the strands tightly to somehow elevate the overwhelming pain washing over him.

He stared at your dead face and sobbed. He didn't want to love you. Never intended to lean on you so heavily, but he did. The two of you had met as children. At a spring festival, you were prancing around admiring all of the flowers. He came across you and was revolted by your happiness, disgusted by the pure smile you flashed him. He fell for it though, and you snaked your way closer to him, sinking your fangs into his neck. He loved you. He wanted to protect you. You were the fiber that made up the last string of his humanity.

Now you lie dead before him, your beautiful hair spilled out around you, and that gracious smile gone, replaced by the ugly stench of death. He started dragging himself towards you. "I'll fix you," he sniffled. "I'll fix you." Collecting your limp body into his arms he walked off deeper into the dark forest.

....

That was ten years ago. He was a grown adult now. A different person. Orochimaru walked calmly down the stone hallway to the room at the end of it, closing the door gently behind him.

This room, in comparison to the rest, was dauntingly beautiful. There were flowers and plants everywhere, the smell of life in the air. It was more vegetation than structure, and at the center of it all was you, floating gracefully in a preservation capsule.

He approached the tank and painfully smiled. "My love," he seethed. "It will work this time, i know it." There was hesitation in his voice, and he lowered his eyebrows in pain. "Will you still look at me as you did once you realize what I am?" he said, wondering for a second if he was making the right decision.

A knock sounded at the door, and he no longer held that thought. Kabuto opened the door carrying a girl into the room. "Where would you like her, my lord?" He asked, and Orochimaru gestured to the table at the far side of the room, and he complied, laying her gently down.

"I am going to merge them in the tank, a gusion of such." Orochimaru and Kabuto turned his head curious at his masters sudden willingness to share. "Oh?" Kabuto replied "This girl is still living, wont the fusion bring about a hybrid of the two?"

Orochimaru flashed his eyes at him, shaking his head. "No, to simplify, I'll remove the parts of that girls brain that involves emotions of personality, so it does not interact with hers." He said, looking again back to you. Kabuto nodded. "I suppose we should get started then, if I may, my lord." Kabuto slid open the drawers attached to the operating table, admiring the blade of the scalpel he removed. Orochimaru did not stop him, noticing an anxiousness blossoming in his chest.

....

After the operation, Orochimaru turned off the lights to your room and closed the door. Locking it behind him. He would not know how the fusion worked for a year. Your body needed time to regulate and get used to its own amenities. The months that proceeded left like a slow march through the desert. He busied himself with a side quest, finding news things and people to occupy his mind, but when the day came, he found himself running down the hallway and throwing open the door.

He flicked the lights on and rushed to your tank. He placed his hands on the glass and looked anxiously to you. Your eyes were open, and you were looking around, your eyes finally meeting his after moments of searching.

A gentle smile came to your face, and you reached out to him. He found himself returning the expression. "Welcome back, my love," he hissed, typing the coordinates in to unlock you from your cage.

[stay-forever-sunday]

Drop of Starlight

Summary: Feyre is obsessing over seating charts, Rhysand comes for the rescue.

Rating: G

Word count: 960

AO3

Feysand Week 2023 Day One: ✨Night Triumphant and Stars Eternal ✨

@officialfeysandweek2023

Seven days. That was how long she had until her precious little boy turned one year old. Seven days. And she had a feeling that her sanity would be completely drained by the time next Sunday rolled around.

Feyre hated planning parties. It was one of the things that kept nagging at her when becoming The Spring High Lord’s wife was still very much a possibility. Back then, she had an immortal future of pretty dresses, polite smiles, and fake conversations and had hated the prospect of being that trophy wife with every fiber of her being.

But she had come a long way from the fragile-minded and weak, underweight creature she had been then. This celebration was special – and she had probably set herself up for failure, but she was adamant about planning every single detail of Nyx’s first birthday party. 

They would have it at the House of Wind, as close to the night sky as they possibly could. Velaris itself would also be celebrating down below, for that little boy was hope impersonated, and there was yet to exist a faerie in the city that didn’t love and dote on Nyx. A few of them had been personally asked to attend the festivities, the invitations made of starlight.

With the help of Elain and the twins, she had mapped out all the foods and drinks that would be available as snacks for the party itself, but also for the formal sit-down dinner that was not only for their family but also for a few of the other high lords as well. Tamlin was, by default, not invited; she refrained from wondering if he would have said yes if had indeed mailed that particular letter. 

The cake and decorations would be of the night sky and stars. It might be bordering on cliche, but Nyx was the first baby to be born to a Night Court High Lord in centuries and Feyre hoped to be forgiven for the commonplace thought, but that baby was their tiny star. 

“You need to relax for a little bit, darling”. Rhysand’s voice reached her like a soft caress, her tiredness showing as she rubbed the sting from her eyes. 

He was fully behind her a second later, her back suddenly flush with his chest. Feyre sighed and let herself sink into the comfort and darkness of her love. 

“I know, but I still need to figure out the seating chart for the dinner. I don’t want to risk Beron actually coming and the only place he has to sit is beside Lucien. Or Helion.” Her mumble sounded too much like a whine to her own ears. “Why did we even send an invitation to the Autumn Court? It is bad decorum to retract it, isn’t it?”

The nameplates she was writing down had the sketch of a sitting chart beside them, crossed over many times as she played with who would sit next to whom. Sure they had some semblance of peace, for now; and Spring had been the only court not to get an invitation at all. Feyre had decided she liked Lucien’s mother and if this was an opportunity for her to see her son –and maybe Helion– then so be it. 

“I hope you know you don’t have to babysit our guests”. He murmured, picking up her hand and tugging her from the stool she sat at. 

She instantly wrapped her arms around him and hid her face in his neck. “Then who is going to babysit them?” 

Rhys chuckled at her grumble and held her close, his warm hand soothing her by traveling the expanse of her back, up and down and back again. 

“Let the others take care of anyone who might misbehave. It’s our son’s first birthday. The only person we should worry about is him and pray to the Cauldron that Mor doesn’t sneak him chocolate all day long.”

“Great. Now I’ll have to add that to my list of worries.” She laid her forehead on his shoulder and pinched his side, a comeback for mocking her. And damn him for adding to her ever-growing anxiety.

“Try not to worry about it, darling. Here, let me help you with this chart.” Rhysand let go of Feyre and peered over her work. He took three of the blank, black nameplates and the silver pen she used to write their guests’ names with. “These are the only nameplates we’re bothering with.” He spoke with a finality that made her shiver the slightest bit. She loved it when her mate made decisions and took care of her worries, in a way that was entirely welcome. 

The nameplates read Drop of Starlight and Stars Eternal. Lifting them up, he looked at her with a face-splitting grin. Feyre matched his smile with a bright one of her own. Incorrigible. But she’d be damned if she didn’t adore his playfulness. 

“You seem to be forgetting another very, very important guest.” She took the pen from his hand and leaned down to write on the remaining plate. With a flourish, she added two stars beside the name, one of them very, very small. 

Night Triumphant. 

Rhys smiled, pulling her back into his arms, cuddling her impossibly closer, and chanced a look at their baby, silently playing on the floor, surrounded by Illyrian dolls. He held one tightly in his chubby little fist, the other hand yanking at the doll’s wings. He was obsessed with anything that had wings. 

“I can’t believe he is turning one. I can’t believe we survived this.” He chuckled; Nyx had progressed to holding one doll in each hand and was munching on their heads, one at a time. 

“Are you kidding? I can’t believe he survived us.”

[flintandpyrite]

We watched a sheep shearing demonstration at the fiber festival and when the guy took the sheep out of the pen her buddy stuck her head out to see where she was going 😔

[obeymehymnbo]

oh, yeah, I completely forgot but I did write a drabble for Mammon, so while it's still hopefully his birthday somewhere, Imma post it. it is unfortunately angst but at least it's something Mammon centric. lmao

He didn't know why he was so put off by this alleyway when you both turned down into it. It was midday, sunny and bright, the skies were clear, and you had just left a festival. By all means, this alleyway should be completely safe.

So, why wasn't it? As you stare down the barrel of a gun, him frozen just beside you, ready to move in an instant, he wonders this. Why was this happening, why wasn't this safe? Why does danger seem to follow you at every turn?

There's yelling, the sound of footsteps, a bang, a thud as a body falls to the ground. He wasn't fast enough, he's never fast enough. Why didn't he move? Why did he look away? Maybe you would've been okay if he had just kept his eyes on you.

He's on his knees now, holding your body close as red seeps into the cracks of the concrete. Not again, this wasn't happening again. Was it? No, it couldn't be. He had to be dreaming, holding your limp body close to his chest. This was another cruel nightmare, he was going to wake up and everything would be okay.

He hears someone calling his name but he wasn't listening, all he could hear was the ringing in his ears. A hand on his shoulder finally brings him out of his stupor, his gaze meeting with the eyes of his older brother.

"Mammon, were you even listening?"

He looks around, dazed and confused. You all were about to leave the festival, having been there for hours already. In his observation of your surroundings, he catches a glimpse of a hooded figure slipping away from the crowd of people, and into an eerily familiar alleyway. Looking back at his brother, he pulls you closer to him, anxiety seeping into every fiber of his being.

"I'm thinkin' we should stay a bit longer, I ain't ready to leave yet."

Lucifer's glare was harsh and intense, but to his surprise, his older brother turns to go deeper into the festival grounds once again. He pulls you along as he follows him, sending one final glance behind him to see the hooded figure staring right back. He watches the figure for only a moment before putting his attention back on you.

Not today. He isn't losing you today.

[brainfuzz]

I have a dilemma that is kind of pissing me off. Early last month, since I was no longer employed, I went to visit my mother and participate in the annual "wool walk" where you basically drive all over the state, hitting different yarn stores and (hopefully) buy shit. I refuse to buy without having a project for it, so mostly I was just driving mom around and getting my passport stamped. I did get a couple of things though, one of which was a shawl kit that I thought I could make for someone's Christmas present.

Last week, now a month later, I opened it to take a look at the instructions and figure out if I could actually do it without help, and I realized it was missing one of the mini-skeins. The kit was on sale, which is another reason I bought it, and I have no clue which store I bought it in, so I contacted the company, explained what happened and asked if I could buy the missing skein.

They were like, nope, too bad, we don't sell them separate. (Thanks ArtYarns for the outstanding customer service.🙄) Of course I figured this out after the local fiber festival, so now I'm hunting through every freaking indie yarn store trying to find 100% cashmere lace-weight yarn in some kind of dark blue that isn't stupid expensive because I only need 135 yards.

It is not going well.

[palewhiteblood]

Un amour ❆ ln4

Summary: One more time, we lose the battle against the world.

Lando leaned against the railing of the balcony, gazing into the night sky. The air was filled with the distant sound of laughter and chatter, a reminder of the vibrant festivities happening below. He clutched his phone in his hand, scrolling through the pictures of his girlfriend's graduation. Each image captured a moment he had missed, frozen in time like a bittersweet reminder.

He had requested those photos, eager to witness the milestone occasion in her life. Graduations were supposed to be moments of celebration, a time for loved ones to gather and commemorate achievements together. Yet, once again, his racing career had pulled him away, leaving him to experience the moment through a screen.

As Lando scrolled through the pictures, his heart ached with a mix of pride and longing. The radiant smile on her face, surrounded by family and friends, tugged at his emotions. He imagined the joy she must have felt in that moment, the sense of accomplishment mingled with a touch of sadness for his absence. It was a familiar feeling they both had grown accustomed to.

His mind wandered back to the message she had sent him earlier, the words "I miss you" etched on the screen. Lando knew she meant it with every fiber of her being, just as he missed her. He wondered how many moments like these he had missed, how many memories he had yet to create with the person he loved.

But there was more to his restlessness than just longing. The recent events involving his friend Charles Leclerc weighed heavily on Lando's mind. Charles had faced the harsh reality of trying to balance his relationship with the demands of Formula 1. The strain had taken its toll, and their friendship had suffered. Lando couldn't help but fear that he and his girlfriend might be on a similar path.

He didn't want to lose her, not just as a girlfriend, but as his confidant and best friend. The thought of their relationship fading away like the echoes of the laughter below sent a shiver down his spine. Lando knew that their time apart, the fleeting moments they spent together, had started to wear thin.

His thumb hovered over the keyboard as he composed a text message to her. "How is your party going? Have fun too. And text me when you get home." The words felt hollow, unable to convey the depth of his conflicted emotions. He hit send nonetheless, hoping she would understand the hidden plea for reassurance.

Closing his phone, Lando stared into the darkness, uncertain of what the future held. It felt unfair to ask his girlfriend to remain tied to a relationship that seemed to defy the very concept of togetherness. Hand in hand for only a fleeting two weeks, the months of separation weighed heavily on both their hearts.

The allure of pursuing dreams and aspirations often clashed with the desire to build a life together. Lando wondered if their love could withstand the relentless pressures of their careers. Was it selfish to hold on when letting go might offer them both a chance at happiness on their own terms?

As the night stretched on, Lando's thoughts spiraled into a maze of uncertainty. He couldn't escape the gnawing fear that their relationship was slipping through his fingers, slipping away like sand in an hourglass. The chapter of their lives that they had clung to so fiercely seemed to be reaching its inevitable end, leaving them with a daunting decision to make.

In the darkness, Lando whispered to the night air, "Please, let love be enough."

｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡

As Lando basked in the glory of his victory on the podium, the taste of champagne still lingering on his lips, his eyes scanned the crowd in search of his girlfriend like a hobby. He was taken aback when he saw her standing there, her smile radiant and her eyes gleaming with pride. A surge of joy filled his heart, his celebration taking on a whole new meaning.

He made his way through the jubilant crowd, the accolades and cheers following him like a symphony of triumph. But deep within him, a flicker of unease stirred. The sight of her, present without his knowledge, ignited conflicting emotions. He wondered why she had come, what had driven her to be here on this monumental day.

Entering his waiting room, Lando's breath caught in his throat as he laid eyes on the familiar figure waiting for him. The reality of her presence overwhelmed him, a rush of emotions coursing through his veins. Without hesitation, he embraced her, their bodies fitting perfectly in a moment of pure connection. Her whispered words, "You did it," pierced through his heart, shattering any remaining doubts.

Tears welled up in Lando's eyes as he laughed through the overwhelming surge of happiness. This unexpected reunion surpassed all his expectations. It was a moment that transcended the chaos of their demanding lives, affirming their love in its purest form.

As they pulled apart from the embrace, Lando felt her fingers gently caress his face. The tenderness in her touch spoke volumes, reassuring him of her unwavering devotion. At that moment, everything felt too good to be true, a beautiful dream he feared would slip away as quickly as it had come.

From the outside, the night appeared to be a fairy tale, filled with triumph and celebration. But inside, within the depths of my own thoughts, a whirlwind of emotions threatened to consume me. The sight of her, standing there with that radiant smile, filled me with indescribable joy and longing, but it also stirred a sense of unease deep within my soul.

As I made my way through the crowd, the cheers and applause ringing in my ears, my eyes were fixed on her. I couldn't help but wonder why she had come, how she had managed to surprise me on this momentous day. A mixture of delight and apprehension churned within me, my heart torn between the elation of seeing her and the nagging fear that our love might not withstand the challenges we faced.

When I entered my waiting room and saw her there, the breath caught in my throat. The reality of her presence hit me like a tidal wave, and I couldn't contain the surge of emotions that flooded through me. I pulled her into my arms, holding her as if trying to merge our souls into one. In that embrace, I found solace, a temporary respite from the chaos of our lives.

Her whispered words, "You did it," echoed in my ears, seeping into the depths of my being. I laughed through tears of happiness, overwhelmed by the intensity of this moment. It was a culmination of my dreams, but also a stark reminder of the sacrifices we had made for our love.

As we broke apart, her touch against my face felt like a delicate brushstroke, painting a canvas of love and longing. In that instant, I knew that I never wanted to let her go, that she was the anchor in my turbulent world. But as happiness coursed through my veins, a shadow of doubt loomed beneath the surface.

The celebratory party unfolded, and I was greeted by the adoration and admiration of those around me. She stood by my side, a beacon of support and affection. But within the depths of her eyes, I caught glimpses of a sadness that mirrored my own. It was a pain that she tried to conceal, to shield me from, but I could feel its weight pressing upon us both.

The night continued in a blur of euphoria as they attended the celebratory party together. Lando's glow radiated, and everyone greeted him with admiration and excitement. She stood by his side, cherishing the feeling of being the one he loved, the one who loved him. Every interaction, every smile, and every shared glance felt like a slow-motion dance, a testament to their deep connection.

Yet, beneath the surface of her elation, a haunting sadness lingered. She couldn't ignore the weight that settled in her throat, the painful reminder that this moment was temporary. Memories, once cherished, now felt like weapons, pricking her heart with the awareness of their fleeting time together.

They were no longer carefree children, oblivious to the sacrifices their love required. The reality of their demanding lives had become undeniable. In this world of speed and ambition, where time slipped through their fingers like sand, she wondered if their love could survive without the constant touch and presence they both craved.

She felt like a ghost amidst the celebrations, her smiles hiding the sadness that threatened to consume her. Every driver she greeted, every congratulatory word exchanged, served as a painful reminder of her own absence from Lando's life. In the depths of her heart, she questioned if their love could weather the storm, if their whispered promises would fade into silence.

As I looked into her eyes, I saw a reflection of my own doubts. The euphoria that had enveloped us began to dissipate, replaced by a haunting uncertainty. The reality of our demanding lives, the constant separation, and the sacrifices we had to make threatened to suffocate our love.

We danced on the edge of a precipice, torn between our dreams and the longing for each other's presence. The moments we shared were like stolen fragments of time, held together by fragile threads. How much longer could we sustain this delicate balance before it crumbled beneath the weight of our ambitions?

In the midst of the celebration, the realization hit me like a punch to the gut. The joy I felt in her presence was tinged with the bitter taste of impending loss. The whispers of doubt grew louder in my mind. Could our love survive the relentless demands of our chosen paths? Was it fair to ask her to wait, to put her own dreams on hold, while I chased my own ambitions? The pain of uncertainty settled in, gnawing at my soul, as I grappled with the knowledge that our love might not be strong enough to endure.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: 　✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: 　　 :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧　 :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

[ratsoh-writes]

We won't let anyone take your cocknut, bruno. We'll fight them if they do.

*the coconut fiber is slowly falling off the outer layer and covering bruno. He is so happy.*

Rosie: daddy, can we go on the rides

*the festival has quite a few rides this year. They really went all out. Rosie wants to ride the spinning strawberries.... with daddy!*

Ann: Hmm... it says you can ride with an adult. I think it just spins a bit.

Rosie: i want to ride with daddy

Ann: oh daddy, handsome, my love, woild you like to ride the spinning strawberries?

Bruno: my cock nut hehehe

Rust doesn’t look particularly excited for the spinner but agrees reluctantly

Rust: .. as long as we don’t spin too fast Rosie. Your dad here had too much for breakfast~

3 rides later and a green looking rust taps out making Ann have a turn with Rosie while he watches the babies. The fair rides are pretty great! So colorful and beautiful! And-

Oh my stars, what just hit your hair? You feel the wetness on your head and pull a … pink blob, is it gum? You sniff it and you can tell it’s strawberry flavored? You hear a small ding and see one splat against the little circle of the spinning plane ride that you and Rosie are on! Someone is sniping at the rides with candies!