#we have sleep token flannels

[sleepanonymous]

Day 43 of listening to TPWBYT until Sleep Token releases new music.

[cads-the-cat]

Sleep Token is being turned into a brand rather than a band and being commercialised to a point where it will harm them more than help them

An opinion on there being too much ST merch

Befofe starting this, i want to clear up a few things

I am aware that Vessel and ii probably have very little responsibility/say in this and it's the management/rca who is doing this

Yes, i am a fan and i support them. However, it is unhealthy and not good to blindly support every decision and action of your favourite artist, person etc without questioning them and holding them accountable

I know that earning money with music in times of streaming is hard/impossible but that does not justify those moves of tryihg to get as much money as possible out of them

This also applies to other bands, but the extent to which this aapplies to ST is extreme compared to others

We are one week into this year and there has already been a new merch drop. After 6 days. You know when the last one was? Less than a month ago. Same merch shop (US). The items? Some of them questionable (flannels??). The leather jacket? Insane (not in a good way). It looks okay but you could make one yourself and make it look way cooler and get it for less money as one of my tumblr moots said.

I remember last year up until July/August it kind of was a running joke in the fandom about the emails with obtain and how we're too broke to obtain, but now? This is not a joke anymore. Ever since last year we have gotten emails ALMOST EVERY MONTH, sometimes even several times a month about new merch releases.

Yes, there are different stores worldwide, but we live in a time of international shipping. And even for one store it's lots of releases. Plus then there's all the licensed products shops like Hot Topic, Impericon, EMP and whatever their local equivalents are, who also constantly release more merch.

What's even worse: a lot of those things are either a shitty quality (if i remember right, one of the hoodies or tshirts from the EU tour 2024 had the print peeling off after one wash) and/or really bland. Where is the cool art, the thing that makes these items special? I got a tshirt from the German Rituals 2023 with this sick artwork on it that i cherish more than anything. But compared to that most tour merch of the more recent tours has been nothing special.

Most of them just have the logo on it and it reminds me of any ither fashion brand. There's only so many jumpers and t-hsirts and sweatshirts with the logo that a person needs and the constant release of new but actually the same stuff is creating this insane overconsumption which harms fans' bank accounts and the environment and is straight up boring. There's nothing about them that makes them special and unique and cool. It feels like at this point it is a contest of how many ST logos can they plaster on an item before it looks ridiculous (on the leather jacket i counted at least four, three of them massive).

Which brings me to the next point. People just slap on a ST logo because the band is so hyped and to make money off it or get more clicks, even if it is only remotely related to them. I understand that in today's world you need to use buzzwords to make people pay attention, but with ST it has reached the most ridiculous level. The air of anticipation some magazines or brands build around some upcoming stuff with words like Worship and whatever, which everyone connects to ST, just to reveal a mid product or result is just horrible and will eventually make it less effective which can harm the band in the long run if they can't build up excitement for new releases as much as they could because everyone is 'burnt out' because it's been overused.

Overall, this insane amount of merch and using ST to sell anything or get clicks is not okay. The fan base is so dedicated and loyal and we deserve better than to be - for the lack of a better word - exploited like this just because we like and support an artist. Prices for everything have been rising for years and it's hard for a lot of us financially. We spend so much money on concerts already and then the ton of merch and everything on top is just too much. ST as a brand is used to exploit fans which is not how you should treat your fans (again want to emphasise that this is mostly on management and label, not Vessel)

You might think 'But you don't have to go to concerts or buy their merch'. That's right, you don't. But concerts are kind of the thing when you're a fan of a band, and you want to support your fave band abd wear merch and show that you like them. However, the merch and everything is limited and posed in a way that creates FOMO and everyone is always drilled to Consume and Obtain (yes that's how capitalism works and that is not good in this situation because it harms us fans so much.) I can't deny I've given in to this as well twice during the EU shows and i am now left with an underwhelming sweatshirt and a hat that i never really needed and probably wouldn't have bought if i hadn't been in this mindset so much.

'Oh but i want to support Vessel and the band.' Yes, merch does help out artists, especially in times of streaming. But how much do you think they make? Merch is using little to no lyrics or song related things that the band could earn money off due to copyright. And i don't know who owns the right to the logo (i did some research and found someone in management with three trademarks on something ST related but it never specified if that applies to just the name or the logo or the music or whatever - it was not Vessel though). Who knows how much is going to management and the label and how much the band actually earns. Right now it feels like the management and label want to make as much money possible from them for their own gain. As an alternative to support them, start buying their albums and vinyls so they earn more money off their songs.

So, what do i want? Obviously i don't want fans to stop buying merch because it does help artists to some degree. However, I want less merch releases, one or maximum two a year per merch store (so AUS, US and UK/EU). We can have a few simple designs with the logo on it, but i also want some cool pieces with art or something else that makes them special. I know artists are expensive and stuff, but that's why you make less items but higher quality. Make them available in larger quantities so that more people can buy them and they will still get their money. Plus you always have extra tour merch, which is another extra release. Make the merch special again and make it mean something to people instead of just being another logo like a fashion brand.

If they continue like this fans will eventually be unable to afford stuff, people will turn away from merch because they realise it's all the same, and the effect of using ST as a brand/connection simply to sell stuff will harm their reputation (it already is). Whoever is responsible for this merch insanity needs to put a stop to it. Please!

This is just my opinion. Disagree if you want to. Some things, especially the effects of the situation, are portrayed slightly exaggerated, but this is how it makes me feel and I truly believe this is not a great situation we're in right now with the merch.

(Not taking any responsibility for typos)

[timely-jimanya]

Boutta shoot my shot... loli Anya and teenage Jimmy hcs? Can be sfw or NSFW 👉👈

oh yes ofc ofc !! funny that you mention it bc i happen to have an au for it SFW

jimmy got in trouble w the school and his punishment was to tutor the elementary schoolers, which was how he met anya

she wears glasses in this au. with her outfit kinda imagine the wendy torrence fit with the overalls and the flannel and the turtleneck

he has long hair (yay more grease!) and a bunch of piercings in this au. some facial hair but he's only like 17 so not much

he doesn't put much effort into his clothes but theres always visible stains on his shirts, he usually wears some kind of zip up sweatshirt thats definitely seen better days

he gets into a lot of fights and usually has a bruise somewhere on his face

he cuts in this au and (obviously) has a bunch of mental illnesses. he doesn't have an eating disorder but doesn't eat often due to his other issues so he's pretty skinny. also obvs smokes and drinks. dabbles in hard drugs but doesn't want to get dependent on them bc he can't afford a habit (literally and figuratively)

he drives a shitty old van and usually sleeps in it. she brought up the idea of painting the side together, but he didn't want to spend that time on a van he'd be taking to a junkyard soon. he hated how sad she looked when he said no but knew she'd be sadder when he'd have to take it to the junkyard

his bio mother left, and his first stepmother sexually abused him before she left too. his father was abusive until he was 14, then he just turned neglectful

her parents are very sweet and loving but overprotective. were wary of him at first but warmed up to him. she is SLIGHTLY sheltered but not very much

his taste in music is a mix between classic rock and stuff like sleep token. she doesn't have a real music taste yet but she likes piano music

her favorite subject is science, specifically the human body. she loves to play doctor. he plays along bc sometimes being prodded by a cute girl in a lab coat is fun

they have sleepovers in his van. her parents scold her for this for obvious reasons but they couldn't stop her so they gave up

usually during said sleepovers he opens the sunroof and they look at the stars (neither of them know shit about stars)

her favorite foods are fruit and chocolate. he saved up to buy her chocolate covered strawberries for valentine's day and she was so happy she cried

he works for the pony express but it's like. doing inventory in a warehouse and curly's his hot manager

he was her first kiss. he'll never admit it but she was the first girl to kiss him

she loves the rain and they run around in the rain together sometimes before they go inside and her parents turn on a movie for them

he spent so much time at her house that her parents became more of his family than his father ever was

he was paranoid about her parents finding out about their relationship however when they did they just went 'well yeah its weird but our daughters gonna run away to california with you or something if we tell her not to see you again'

she loves looking at plants. he took her to a botanical garden once and she loved it

he learned to braid just to braid her hair

she steals his shirts and wears them as pajamas. she also takes his jackets when it's cold out

she cried when she found out about his self-harm

he refuses to cry around her because he doesn't want to burden a kid with his issues

her attention span is low and she's socially stupid but she's very intelligent otherwise

she's scared of dogs. he refuses to admit that he is too

she likes the way he smells even if she makes fun of him for being smelly

she's the little spoon

he let her take a hit from his cigarette once and she coughed a lot

as always NSFW under the cut

NSFW

her clit is large and her nipples are really puffy. she thinks it looks weird but he thinks that her body is perfect

she likes feeling his chest for his heartbeat when they fuck

her most sensitive spots are her neck, chest, armpits, sides, stomach (especially around her navel), her upper and lower back, thighs, and feet

his most sensitive spots are his neck, the area around his nipples, the bottom of his ribcage, around his navel, above and around his pelvis, and his ears

she called him sir once. his guiltiest orgasm because she said it in a way that sounded so childlike

he jerks off thinking about her voice. he's asked her to record her voice on his phone to listen to

he loves when her glasses get crooked and fogged up

she likes gentle pressure on her throat. being actually choked freaks her out

she doesn't like hitting but sometimes lets him slap her ass a bit

she likes giving him blowjobs (even with his hygiene) but it tasted weird. she can't take the whole thing in her mouth but uses her hands to make up for the rest

he loves biting her really hard and he likes how she squirms under him when he does. he never bites hard enough to draw blood but he thinks about it.

usually after he goes for a run or anything of the sort she RUNS to sniff his armpits

she took one of his dirty + sweaty shirts (he knew and just let her have it) and she puts it on her pillow and humps it while leaning down to sniff it. once it loses his scent she asks him to wear it again

she sometimes steals underwear

he steals her panties and sniffs them like his life depends on it while he jerks off

because of her he can't usually get off with just his fist, he usually needs a fleshlight and a lot of pictures of her AND her scent

he bought her a vibrator and she uses it nightly. she loves sitting on it while she reads a book

she squeals when she cums

most of his noises are groans and they make her really horny

one time while he was finger-blasting her in the back of his van she came so hard she pissed all over his shirt. it was the kind of gray fabric where wet spots are SUPER visible too. she was really embarrassed but he was very damn proud of himself

she LOVES cockwarming, especially falling asleep right after sex where he nestles up against her and slips his half-hard cock back in and she feels him get fully erect again

he takes a lot of pictures and videos for his eyes only

her height is super inconvenient for blowies because on her knees she's too little, standing upright she's just BARELY too tall and has to uncomfortably bend over just a little. she prefers when he's laying down and she's between his legs, or he's in a chair and she's on her knees

she loves riding him, especially when he's driving her somewhere and he just can't wait so he pulls over, has her climb over into the front seat, and has her on his lap fucking up into her

he loves cumming on her face and stomach the most

he likes teasing his tip against her belly button because it's a sensitive spot for her

he loves thighjobs, especially with how soft and squishy her thighs are. she gave him a pitjob once and he almost passed out from how much blood was in his cock and not his brain. she gave him a footjob and he actually did pass out, especially after she let him lick his cum off her foot (and how she squealed when he did)

he loves putting her in cute little outfits but not much lingerie is fitted for someone as little as her. he usually orders the smallest size from an asian company and hopes for the best

he loves eating her out and he loves how her entire pussy can fit in his mouth. he loves tongue-fucking her, too

he jerks off in public bathrooms thinking about her

she spends a lot of time pent up and sexually frustrated if she can't use her vibrator because she can't get herself off with her hands

she loves wet, open-mouthed kisses almost as much as he does. he kisses all over her body like that. she loves kissing down his chest but sneezes sometimes bc his body hair tickles her nose

she bites his inner thighs and his sides when she sucks him off, and sometimes his neck too

he jerks off on her face while she's asleep sometimes

after sex they usually cuddle facing each other with their legs wrapped around each other

their favorite nicknames he uses for her are princess, sweetheart/sweetpea/etc, darling, etc.

he praises her a lot, usually murmuring it right against her skin as he kisses and bites her

she trembles a lot after she cums

if there's any i didn't include that you wanna see please let me know !! i will deliver trust !! now i have anatomy diagrams to study so byebye =33

[wavehq]

enjoy limitless possibilities here in celestire islands, cirillia of vengerberg ( the witcher ), karlach cliffgate ( baldurs gate 3 ), cheng xiaoshi ( link click ), maxine “max” caulfield ( life is strange ), where you can start the new life you've always longed for. make sure you read the checklist, as we'll be sending the discord link through ims! enjoy your new dream, kaz!

( the witcher 3: wild hunt, dupes not allowed.  quannah chasinghorse, she/her, demi-woman. )  ——-  hey, is that ( cirillia of vengerberg ) hanging around ( axe quest )? i wonder what life is like for them, balancing working as a ( twenty one ) year old ( animal shelter worker ) and ( swordsmanship/sparring )? they’re notorious for being ( courageous ) yet ( stubborn ), and i always seem to hear ( the summoning ) by ( sleep token ) playing whenever they walk past. they’re known around the islands for ( being orphaned as a child ), and they’re associated with ( sweat above their brow as they focus on their target, long hair drifting in the wind as they dance, an obsession with shiny blades and leather armor ). last we spoke, they were telling me about a vision they had… something about their biggest regret being ( leaving geralt and yennefer behind ), but it must have just been a bad dream. //  —  [ kaz, 30 / cst, they/them. ]

( baldur's gate 3, dupes not allowed.  tabria majors, she/they, non-binary. )  ——-  hey, is that ( karlach cliffgate ) hanging around ( sugar & cream )? i wonder what life is like for them, balancing working as a ( thirty two ) year old ( hockey coach/trainer ) and ( doing their favourite hobby )? they’re notorious for being ( energetic ) yet ( quietly haunted ), and i always seem to hear ( road of resistance ) by ( babymetal ) playing whenever they walk past. they’re known around the islands for ( accidentally forgetting to wear pants while going outside ), and they’re associated with ( a life filled with bountiful adventure, memories of countless battles in a hellish nightmare, fire burning in their chest ). last we spoke, they were telling me about a vision they had… something about their biggest regret being ( ever trusting their 'friend' ), but it must have just been a bad dream. //  —  [ kaz, 30 / cst, they/them. ]

( link click, xiao dejun, he/him, cis man. )  ——-  hey, is that ( cheng xiaoshi ) hanging around ( gladiolus gymnasium )? i wonder what life is like for them, balancing working as a ( twenty two ) year old ( streamer ) and (developing photographs )? they’re notorious for being ( sociable ) yet ( remorseful ), and i always seem to hear ( i bet on losing dogs ) by ( mitski ) playing whenever they walk past. they’re known around the islands for ( his parents disappearing  ), and they’re associated with ( new lives led through photographs, regrets passing by each person whose life they've touched, rain being the bearer of bad news ). last we spoke, they were telling me about a vision they had… something about their biggest regret being ( unable to figure out what happened to his parents ), but it must have just been a bad dream. //  —  [ kaz, 30 / cst, they/them. ]

( life is strange, jenna ortega, she/they, agender. )  ——-  hey, is that ( maxine 'max' caulfield ) hanging around ( lunalia animal shelter )? i wonder what life is like for them, balancing working as a ( twenty one ) year old ( photographer ) and ( journal writing )? they’re notorious for being ( creative ) yet ( introverted ), and i always seem to hear ( dive back in time ) by ( jaws ) playing whenever they walk past. they’re known around the islands for ( leaving home on their own at a young age ), and they’re associated with ( a board filled with photographs and string, fire walk with me, clever puns on t-shirts dressed with a ripped flannel ). last we spoke, they were telling me about a vision they had… something about their biggest regret being ( leaving arcadia bay behind with the storm ), but it must have just been a bad dream. //  —  [ kaz, 30 / cst, they/them. ]

[zenryverse]

There’s no rhyme or reason to this list, I just couldn’t sleep last night so my mind came up with some random Zenry HCs at like 4 am so I felt like sharing

- Zenry is definitely that couple that could have full times jobs and a house and bills and kids that are now teenagers but Zack comes home in the middle of the day to find the table flipped on its side with Henry crouching behind it aiming a marshmallow shooter at him and telling him he has ten seconds to run before he starts shooting and ofc Zack has a bunch stashed in random places in the house for this exact purpose

- on a related note, it’s a common occurrence for Izzy or Felix to come home and one asks the other where their parents are and the answer is “in the backyard throwing water balloons at each other” 

- the kids love it when they’re younger because they get to come home from school and make a huge mess and shoot stuff at their parents but when they become preteens/teenagers Izzy is always like “do you guys have to be so embarrassing all the time? 🙄" even though she still secretly loves it and always gets into it and Felix tries to hide how much he loves it because he doesn’t want his Cool Big Sister to think he’s lame 

- on another sort of related note, they definitely team up to embarrass the ever living shit of Izzy when she’s a teenager and when she complains and asks why they do this to her, they’re always like “it’s our job and we take it very seriously” 

- Zack randomly texts Henry after he gets home from work and is just like “come outside but be chill about it, don’t let the kids know” and Henry’s just like ???? but does it anyway and Zack gestures for him to get into the passenger seat and Zack’s clearly trying to be stealth so then Hen tries to be stealth, and once he’s in and the doors are locked, zack just pulls out a Styrofoam to-go container and two plastic forks and he hands one to Henry and when he opens the container there’s chocolate cake inside and he’s just like “there was a birthday at work, this was the last piece” and he doesn’t need to say anymore because henry knows he texted him to come out there so they could have a rare selfish moment and share it between each other because they both know if he had taken it inside, their kids would’ve sniffed it out and taken it before he was fully in the door

- (this is basically just a zack HC) but he definitely goes through a midlife crisis phase where he buys another motorcycle and wears leather jackets and ripped jeans and he starts a band that sometimes plays in his bar and his band is like semi-known in Swellview so Izzy and Fe’s friends kinda highkey think he’s really cool but Izzy and Felix are always just like 

whenever their friends start talking about how cool they think he is because this is the same man that laughs so hard at his own unfunny dad jokes that he’s in tears and he also cried at the pet store the other day because there were one of those teacup puppies and she was “too damn small for her own good” and who says some of the cheesiest shit to Henry that it makes them physically nauseous (even though they both kinda think it’s sweet too; felix more than izzy) and they also witnessed him almost total his motorcycle and severely injure himself because he tried to pop a wheelie and failed miserably 

- Izzy, whenever they start acting all lovey-dovey: that’s disgusting. You’re not supposed to do that, you’re parents! Felix: I think it’s sweet they’re still in love even though they’re all old now :)

- also unfortunately I don’t think homophobia is going to completely disappear within the next 10-15 years so there’s that one mom in the PTA that comes up with BS reasons why her kids can’t hang around Izzy or Felix but it basically boils down to her being shitty but Hen and Zack are so used to being around their friends where Cody is the only token straight (and even then, that’s iffy) so they’re just,,,,completely oblivious at first and they’re trying to come up with reasons she might not like them: “is it because Zack drives a motorcycle?” “Is it because Zack works in a bar?” “Is it because he still wears that ridiculous leather jacket even though he’s in his mid 40s?” Zack: “why are these all aimed at me????” Henry: “I own a flower shop. i drive an electric car. my entire wardrobe is jeans and flannels buttoned all the way. no one outside this house has seen my bare arms or knees in over a decade”     - but finally Izzy just tells them that it’s basically because they’re married to each other and Zack’s just like “damn. out of the list of reasons why other people might find me a bad influence around their kids, being married to my soulmate is pretty far down there.” Henry: “no, it’s not even on that list. actually, you’re a great dad and a great husband, if anything, it should be a reason why you’re a good influence” and even though Zack’s super pissed (not even because it’s against them, but purely because she’s holding it against his kids) he still lives for compliments from Henry so he’s sitting there feeling 😡🥰 simultaneously

- once Hen and Zack find out which mom it is, they definitely gossip about her like two white suburban soccer moms. Zack: “Of course it’s that bitch Lauren. She always had some backhanded comment to give about my lemon squares at the PTA meetings. My lemon squares are delicious! well, actually they’re Cody’s, but you know!!!!” 

- when they’re both at the meetings, Zack has to keep Hen from starting an actual fight with her when she makes some snide comment aimed at Zack Zack: “baby, you can’t start a brawl at a PTA meeting” Henry: “but you heard what she said!!!!” Henry, to himself, under his breath while shooting daggers at Lauren: “you’re lucky my husband’s here.” 

[sparkles-and-trash]

South Park Main 5, Headcanons Masterpost  ~

Stan Marsh 

Looks: 

hair is actually nice and somewhat floppy naturally, but because he wears a hat most of the time, it’s usually flat and a little greasy kshdhsd

hair is that blue-ish black color

eyes is piercing ice blue 

skin is light, kind porcelain like, but he also tans really fast?

soft sweaters are the only thing he’ll wear from early autumn to late spring

in summer he’ll literally only wear band shirts and flannels lol 

Personality and General Trivia:

totally cares more for animals than most people let’s be real 

sometimes he struggles with seeing things from others point of view and ha can come across as a little self centered 

he is aware of it tho and tries to be better at it 

his instagram is filled with Sparky haha 

let’s Sparky sleep in his bed every single night even tho Sharon tells him not to 

likes reading and writing, has a tiny obsession with dark themes and Lovecraftian stuff 

he and Kenny volunteers at the local pet shelter and homeless shelter together 

the pet shelter was Stan’s idea, and the homeless shelter was Kenny’s 

wants to be edgy but is really just very soft

“Kyle said...” 

believes everything Kyle tells him lol 

enjoys video games a lot, prefers single player, story based ones tho 

also still enjoys boardgames a lot, and when the big group isn’t up for hit, he, Tweek, Jimmy, Butters and Cartman groups together to nerd it out 

has clinical depression, but is managing it with help of a therapist, his mom and friends

sometimes things gets pretty dark, but he is getting better at reaching out and asking for help in those times 

Friendships:

like I mentioned above, he struggles a bit with seeing things for other’s point of view 

but he is aware of his flaws and is trying to be better

can get a little bit caught up in his own drama, but listens when his friends tells him he needs to get over himself 

will always stand up for his friends, especially if they’re not there to do it themselves 

when he starts getting closer with Butters in early high school he gets really upset when he realizes how much he gets shit-talked 

enjoys spending time with his friends individually, probably the most of the group, and takes initiative to do so a lot 

which is very important to Kenny, since he tends to feel a little overlooked sometimes, and it makes their friendship really strong 

same with Butters, except Butters doesn’t usually doesn’t mind mainly being in a group, but the first few times and Stan hangs out alone it’s obvious he really appreciates it 

Family:

daddy issues 

sorry I don’t make the rules lol 

has a decent relationship with Sharon tho

she’s a good mom 

and he wants to be a good son 

Shelly is still kinda angry and scary

she keeps the “only I can beat you up bro” attitude and there is secretly mutual respect there

but we don’t talk about that!!! 

Ships and relationships:

okay so my main ships for him are stutters (Butters), stenny (Kenny) and Style (Kyle) 

my fav is stutters tho 

I usually head canon him as bi or pan, but as with everyone in SP, I’m open to different interpretations if different Au’s and stories! 

I just really like the idea of them learning to balance facing their issues AND celebrate the good things in life together 

I def think he can be a bit insecure in relationships, struggling with feeling like he’s not enough, and would need a partner that naturally will be affirming and positive 

that’s not to say he’s super needy or clingy, he’s just a bit insecure 

but I really think he would truly be a good partner 

he’s caring, kind and very appreciative 

which is again why I really like him with Butters offh 

Kenny McCormick 

Looks:

sandy blonde hair that’s always messy and floppy/softly curled 

teeth is kind of crooked due to lack of funds for braces 

his front teeth are kinda big and has a significant gap 

lots and lots of freckles man 

all over his face, shoulders, back, hands and arms 

tans fast 

I actually really like him with brown eyes? like, soulful deep brown eyes 

but also very, very clear blue ones, like almost unnatural (yes that’s a mysterious thing) 

medium tall 

wears his hoodies, usually with the hood up, no matter if it’s freezing or a heatwave

not conventionally attractive, but charming looking lol 

likes to wear some eyeliner every now and then

and nail polish, but it’s like super clumsily put on and always chipped

Personality and General Trivia:

falls asleep in class a lot, but always seems to know the answer if the teacher asks him something

also has decent grades

I think he’s way smarter than he gives himself credit for, both socially and school wise 

the therapist of the groups 

actually, the therapist of the whole school 

knows a lot of secrets due to this, but he always, ALWAYS keeps them 

I see him as very friendly and approachable, but terribly hard to get close with

lots and lots of walls, man

very much an observer type? 

quietly stays in the background if that’s an option

but if he is talked too, or feels like he has something to really contribute to in a conversation he’ll jump in and be comfortable talking and taking up space if he is with friends or people he knows 

if not, he’ll just stay in the background with that.... look on his face that just makes you know he knows more than he says 

works at Tweek’s parents coffee shop, is kinda close with Tweek because of this 

zones out a lot 

“…what?” 

can fall asleep anywhere

Friendships:

is pretty close friends with Butters! 

Butters used to have a little crush on him, but Kenny didn’t find out until years later lol 

he also has a lot of patience with Cartman compared to the others

which is why Cartman actually cares when Kenny sets him in his place 

likes learning new things, and does that with Kyle a lot! 

both school and homework stuff, and things like cooking and other homey stuff, the two of them really bond with this 

him and Stan volunteer together, and I already mentioned, and that time means a lot to Kenny 

since he works with Tweek, the two of them are pretty close and good friends 

is the one of the main boys who gets along the best with Craig and those guys

actually hangs out with them from time to time, so does Butters

it low-key drives the others crazy

Family:

I often like to think his parents would keep having these bursts where they try to get their shit together? 

and it’s slow, and one step back and two backwards, but the fact that they’re trying at all means a lot to the kids after years of them... not 

I can also see Kevin stepping up and taking more charge, Kevin get’s way too little love in this fandom! 

Kenny usually never fights with his sibs

but when he does it’s with Karen, usually because he’s worried about her and it’s nor pretty

none of them can stay mad at each other for long tho

Kevin trying to be all “big brother” and kinda failing because he is chaotic, but he really wants to do right and Karen and Kenny knows that and appreciates it 

Ships and relationships:

ohhh kay here we go, unpopular opinions ahead! 

first, my main Kenny ships are Tokenny (Token x Kenny) and Stenny 

rn Tokenny is my main, I love the potential dynamics, both with their personalties and backgrounds and families 

I tend to head canon him as pan or bisexual, and demiromatic 

I know the demiromantic part is... controversial, at best 

but hear me out! 

I see him being very comfortable with discussing sexual stuff, and being attracted to someone physically is never something he feels awkward or bad about 

but when it comes to more emotional connections, he is way more awkward and fumbling 

for those who doesn’t know, a demiromatic person (like myself! surprise!) won’t have crushes or romantic feelings for someone they don’t already have some form of emotional bond with! We can still feel sexual attraction tho, and some of us are comfortable with casual sexual encounters (like me!) and others are not, and both are very valid! 

I usually have two ways of writing him 

either him being comfortable having casual sexual interactions, but struggling with the romantic aspect and having to figure out how this works for him 

OR 

him having some trauma related to debating sexually very early, thinking he was all ready and it was just sex, but getting his emotions caught up in it and being very heartbroken and confused, and therefore having issues with being intimate with people for a while 

I mix them up depending on the story, but the first one is usually my go-to! 

Kyle Broflovski 

Looks:

he still covers his hair a lot, either with hats or hoods? 

because I really see him being insecure about it 

it’s a medium sort of red, and like, really curly and fluffy 

not frizzy, big like... big 

I usually give him green eyes, but I also could see him with a light brown or hazel! 

some light freckles on his face that only really shows up if he’s spent time in the sun 

pretty tall, kind of lanky 

d i m p l e s 

Personality and General Trivia:

big nerd energy

in every way, board games, video games, loves school, like genuinely, enjoys studying for tests, loves fantasy books, the longer and more complicated the better 

co-captain of the debate team with Wendy 

is good with arguments unless he gets too passionate on the subject, or if someone knows his weak points and uses them to tick him off

it’s usually Cartman  

his mom wants him to go to an Ivy League but honestly he just wants to go to the same one in Denver as Stan, Butters and Cartman are planning on, and now that Kenny is also considering it he seriously think he’ll die if all his friends go to the same college without him

he struggles with FOMO, which is kind of an issue since he’s a busy guy, and some of his friends are not lol 

if any one of these kids become a jock, it’s def Kyle with his basketball change my mind- 

but not like, a letterman wearing fuckboy type of jock, but like, is obsessed with his sport and his team and works really hard to do well type of jock

Friendships:

very loyal 

he and Stan walks Sparky together at least twice a week, just to be sure they’re always caught up with each other even when they’re busy with school, sports and dating

yeah they’re still super best friends 

when they started high school he got closer to Wendy as she’s also on the debate team, in all of his AP classes and they share a lot of the same interests  

they’re still good friends, but nothing more

the first time Cartman got really drunk was at a party freshman year, and at the time everyone was pretty fed up with him, and he ended up crying and Kyle found him, and Cartman thinks Kyle doesn’t remember, but he does 

that was the first night Kyle really kinda understood why Cartman was the way he was, and even though he still thinks he’s a dick at times, he tries to remember everyone have a story, and to give people time 

but he often gets too riled up to remember that lol 

good pals with Jimmy, they share a lot of interests in fantasy stuff and have the same humor 

he also start to go along well with Craig when they are around middle school age, but they’re both kinda too stubborn to admit they’re friends until a year later lol  

Family:

even tho Sheila is pretty overbearing and can be too much, he is a mommy’s boy deep down 

tense relationship with his dad 

enjoys cooking, so that’s where he spends a lot of time with his mom! 

tries his best to keep up with Ike and his life

sometimes he is a tad cringy when doing so, but Ike appreciates the gesture 

Ike is pretty confident and strong in himself so he doesn’t care if Kyle is a bit awkward lol 

the type of brothers who genuinely enjoys spending time together 

Ships and relationships:

I like Style, Kyman, K2 and Kyvid! 

I think he’d be a late bloomer when it comes to love and dating

struggles with opening up and letting himself feel these things 

I often think of him as biromantic asexual, but I’m not always set on it! 

he’d enjoy traditional dinner and a movie type of dates a lot, such a nerd 

Eric Cartman 

Looks:

keeps his hair cut pretty short and styled

has heterochromia iridium (different colored eyes), one blue and one brown

also he has a real nice smile when it’s a genuine one

which is rare but like 

it happens 

is kinda insecure about his weight and tries to compensate with always having the newest stuff and pretending not to care

sometimes tries to diet in secret

he isn’t huge anymore, but is still sort of broad, and isn’t skinny, but like..

kinda bulky, if he wears the right type of clothes it’s hard to see if he’s chubby or buff

but he is def chubby 

Personality and General Trivia:

spends way to much time on reddit arguing with randoms

angry gamer, will call you a slur on voice chat 

after almost getting dropped by his friends in middle school he tries a little harder to be a more decent person

still an asshole at heart, but like, an asshole who sometimes cares about some people 

always tells people that’s he’s seen that meme before, even when he hasn’t 

nothing is ever his fault and the only ones who can get him to admit he’s wrong are Kenny and, very, very rarely, Kyle

he wears supreme hoodies for a full year of High School and stands in line all night for the new ones and never shuts up about how he is the first in South Park to have the new stuff 

Kenny finds it hilarious to buy the fake supreme stickers and put then on his own worn out hoodies

Kyle makes it his main goal in life to put things (everything from used gym socks to old food he finds in his locker) in Cartmans hoods and see how long it takes for him to notice 

can’t handle alcohol, is constantly being teased for it

sloppy drunk lol 

one of the main reasons the other bothers with Cartman trough middle school, when he is at his worst, is because of his big basement, the old Coon Lair, who got a big renovation around 7th grade and is an awesome, private hangout spot with a big TV and wifi and gaming systems

Friendships:

constantly says he hates his friends but would die if everyone left him 

is secretly terribly jealous of Kyle, both his closeness to Stan, his basketball skills, his grades and his family

but they had that thing in Freshman year when Kyle found him drunk, alone and sad, and Cartman himself barely remembers it, and doesn’t think Kyle does because he never mentioned it 

but he does

so much tension there, but also co-dependency 

sees Kenny and Butters as his best friends, and knows deep down neither of them feel that way about him and it secretly kills him 

is in the same board game group with Stan 

is low-key terrified of Tweek lol 

Family:

big mommy issues 

but also very protective of her

I really enjoy the AU/headcanon that Liane marries Clyde’s dad 

it’s not like, the only version I like, but I put it in as many au’s and works of mine as I can 

I def think both boys would be mortified right away 

but Clyde comes around first, because he really wants a brother, even if that brother have to be Cartman 

Cartman would never admit it, but after some time he really starts to see Clyde as a brother and genuinely cares for him 

Ships and relationships:

I mainly see Cartman as gay 

sometimes I start of AU’s and stories with him not being out to himself or anyone else tho, I think that whole journey for him will be very interesting and help him grow as a person 

I def think he’d have a few girlfriends before he comes out tho? 

he can be very charming when he wants too yanno 

my only Cartman ship is kyman atm, but I’m def open to explore more of

Leopold Butters Stotch 

Looks:

I really really really like T A L L Butters??? 

like tall and gangly and adorable 

I know it’s very popular to head canon that he bleaches his hair, but I like to think he has very light blond air naturally! 

keeps it short on the sides and longer on top, with cute ass curls 

soft sky blue eyes 

also dyes his bangs light blue in high school!! 

Pete the goth helps him because he is a pro of dying bangs 

I like to think he’d be into pastel grunge, and keep his love for Hello Kitty and Sanrio etc, but still be a bit more... edgy? 

Personality and General Trivia:

one of those people who’s friendly with almost everyone

but that doesn’t mean he’s friends with them, yanno? 

gets drunk from one wine cooler 

loves the theater and is in the drama club, but likes to be behind the stage, not on it 

wants to be a director one day 

watches Netflix on his phone every single time he has any time to spare, because he’s always binging a show

is usually pretty positive and kind, gives people the benefit of the doubt 

but can be very stubborn, and if he has decided he dislikes or doesn’t trust someone, it’s almost impossible to change his mind 

Friendships:

Butters put up with Cartman for so long because he genuinely thinks he can be fun when he’s not horrible, and he really tries his best to believe in people

he was also the first one to forgive him after the others cut him off 

a very loyal and fun friend

takes a lot of initiative to do stuff, and loves hosting movie nights 

thinks of these boys as his closest friends, but is also real close to Wendy, Bebe, Jimmy and Tweek

Family:

I just hate Stephen so much you guys

so tbh I usually like to just... have Linda leave him, or straight up kill him off oops 

I know Linda is terrible too, I do, but I think she could possibly have a moment of realization if something happens like Butters potentially being taken away? 

idk I’m not gonna go too deep into this, I know it’s such a heavy topic and I don’t wanna seem like I just ignore it, but I personally don’t usually include Stephen directly in my stories, and this is why, I hope y’all understand and respect that! 

Ships and relationships:

my main Butters ship is Stutters (Stan x Butters) 

I mentioned a lot why in Stan’s headcanons? 

but idk, I just really think they’d balance each other well, and could have a very interesting and cute relationship! 

I usually headcanons him as pan or gay, and genderqueer, but I’m open for other interpretations too! 

he does date a little bit, but have never been in a real relationship and isn’t stressing about it! 

he did have a pretty huge crush on (a very unaware) Kenny during middle school, but then they started hanging out a lot more and became really close and Butters didn’t really bring it much thought?

that’s until Cartman gets jealous and throws out a “what are you guys dating and fucking and being gay huh???” and Butters mind immediately goes to “omg ew no he’s like my brother!” 

aaand that’s how Butters realized he was over his crush 

they two of them stay close friends tho, Kenny makes Butters laugh and helps him be more sure of himself and Butters helps Kenny remember that they’re still just kids and should have fun and be good

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

Within the Circles

Good Omens Spooky/Whump fic.

This fic was written for the @tricketyboo2020 “Trick-or-Treat” prompts; @peppervl requested a scary angel/demon summoning, with the summoners wanting to hurt their captive, a rescue, and Hurt/Comfort (non-graphic and SFW). Well, I have Part 1 ready to go, but rescue and comfort are still being written! I’ll try to get out more later today!

This fic is massive (part 1 is just under 5k), so please consider reading on AO3!

Part 1: Circles of Protection

Crowley snapped awake, fighting off the dream, just as the sun rose. He could still taste the salt and smoke, still see the black candles, the silver sigils laid into the floor, still hear the careful chanting – the words changed over the centuries, but the intent always remained the same.

Someone had started the process of summoning a demon last night, and Crowley was the unlucky target.

“Bad dream?” He shook himself out of the reverie to see Aziraphale smiling down at him, reaching over to gently brush strands of bright red hair from his eyes. “You always get clingy when you have one.”

“Nh.” Crowley was pressed as close to his angel’s side as he could get, arms twined around soft stomach, one leg hooked over Aziraphale’s knees. There was a warmth emanating from him, surrounding them both, a warmth that had nothing at all to do with Hell or Earth, a warmth that could heal everything in Crowley within seconds. “Better already.” He pressed his face into the soft tartan flannel, soaking it all in.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” A little too quickly, perhaps, but Aziraphale didn’t try to pry, simply pressed a kiss to the top of his head, breathing deeply, as if he enjoyed the burnt-match smell that still clung to Crowley even after all this time out of Hell.

“Alright. Get some more sleep then, darling, it’s only just after seven.”

But Crowley didn’t have time to sleep. He needed to prepare.

Was the New Moon tonight? Most likely. And it was halfway between the Harvest and Hunter moons. The night the humans would have the most power. More than Crowley could resist on his own. Hard to judge how strong they were – felt like at least three, could be more. Already he could feel their hook in his mind, tugging at him. It was just lucky his mental defenses were still intact, or else they’d have him now, bound to a circle, and the questions…

Aziraphale noticed how tense he was, rubbed a hand down his back. “Crowley, dear, it’s alright. Just a dream. It’s over now.”

No, it wasn’t over. It had barely even begun.

“Angel…” he started slowly, not wanting to pull away. “I’ve got…some things to take care of today. Why don’t you head back to the shop?”

“Oh, no, I’d much rather stay with you.” There was no denying the growing concern in his voice.

“Really has to be done alone.”

“Can you tell me about it?” Now Aziraphale’s fingers clutched at the back of Crowley’s shirt.

“Ngh.”

He could. Aziraphale could probably help him. Even with his defenses, Crowley would be in for a fight tonight, and there was no one else he’d rather have at his side.

Except.

Except Crowley would have to tell him. Would have to say the words out loud. Would have to admit to all that fear and pain, and see the horror he could just barely keep buried reflected in Aziraphale’s eyes and then what was he supposed to do?

No. Much better to face this alone, as he always had. He could fight this off, and after the New Moon the humans wouldn’t be able to do more than irritate him, no matter how large their group. They’d lose the trace on him in a day or two, and that would be the end of it.

Besides, Aziraphale would only worry. And fuss. And get anxious and lose his appetite, and a thousand other things Crowley had sworn to keep him safe from.

No, this was the way it had to be.

“S’nothing to worry about.” Crowley lifted Aziraphale’s hand, kissed the back of it. Covering up his nerves as best he could. “Just demon stuff. I’ll call you first thing in the morning when I’m done. We can...mmm…go for a picnic?”

“It’s a bit cold for a picnic,” Aziraphale admonished, wearing his most put-upon frown. “And you know I would much rather spend the day with my husband.”

“Nh, I’m in trouble.” Crowley tried to smile, pushing himself to sit up. He felt a wave of cold the moment he moved away from Aziraphale, his mind filling with that echo of chanting, but he quickly slid beside his angel, head on his shoulder, arm around his middle. Back into the warmth. “I know you only call me husband when you’re angry at me.”

“Or when I’m angry at someone else. Do you remember that rude man in the park?”

“How could I forget?” This time his smile was almost genuine. “You made that old bigot cry. It was beautiful.”

“Well. I obviously didn’t want to use such harsh language, but there were children around. I couldn’t have them thinking his behaviour was socially acceptable.”

“My hero,” Crowley said mockingly, lifting Aziraphale’s hand to kiss it again.

“Stop trying to distract me. Why don’t I stay here and, I don’t know, make you tea? I know how to stay out of the way.”

“I just...it’s easier this way.” Another kiss. “And we do whatever you want tomorrow. Dinner? Trip to Paris? What are you in the mood for?”

Aziraphale pulled away a little, trying to see his face more clearly. “And...you promise it’s safe?”

There was no hiding the way Crowley hesitated, but he pushed through it quickly. “If everything goes right, worst thing that’ll happen is a sleepless night for me. No one else gets hurt, promise.” Not unless something went very, very wrong.

“I still don’t like it,” Aziraphale sighed. “But…I suppose…a nice walk in the woods? See the leaves?”

“Yes! Whatever you want.”

“Scarecrow competition?” Crowley nodded eagerly. “And...a maize maze? Oh, a vegetable grower’s contest! There’s one at that farmer’s market over in Oxfordshire – we can stop by Tadfield and see how everyone is. And then we can fly kits and carve pumpkins and – and have a bonfire with marshmallows—”

“We can’t do all that in a day!” The demon slumped back down with a dramatic groan, head hitting the pillows with a thud.

“You said whatever I like. And if I’m to be deprived of your company for a day, I expect you to make it up to me.”

“Fine,” Crowley growled, rubbing his jaw. “S’Friday tomorrow anyway. We can make a weekend of it.” He’d need to recover, and a weekend out of London sounded more appealing than ever. “Just promise you’ll let me take a nap first. Then we can head over, take the kids wherever you like. I’ll even do jack-o-lanterns. Show them how to make a proper one out of a turnip.”

“Alright. It’s a deal.” Aziraphale leaned across and kissed his lips. “And if you insist on being mysterious and secretive, that just gives me an entire day to think of wonderful autumn activities for you. There will be fuzzy jumpers. Maybe a crown of leaves.”

“Bastard.” Crowley kissed him back, trying to pull in every ounce of that warmth.

He’d need it to get through the night.

--

The back room of Crowley’s flat contained his most important possessions – an eagle lectern rescued from a bombed out church, several artworks by Leonardo da Vinci, a photograph of Aziraphale, the first he’d taken when they no longer needed to keep themselves a secret.

He hadn’t meant for the room to have a theme, but all the important things in his life tended to have something in common.

He tugged open the safe that had once held his flask of Holy Water. The flask itself was long gone - Aziraphale had whisked even that away, a gruesome reminder of his greatest fear. Crowley had never considered asking for a replacement; the first had nearly cost Crowley the most precious thing in his life, and that was too high a price to pay.

Still, he wondered how Aziraphale would react if he knew about the box.

Tucked in a corner of the safe sat the simple chest of dark wood, sigils traced across the lid with little more than a hint of the silver that had once inlaid them. Still, they remained strong enough to keep the box safe, and to keep Crowley safe from it. Even picking it up made the hair prickle down his arms, his fingers tingle. It was almost too heavy to lift.

He carried it to a table in his solarium, settling it between trembling plants. They, at least, would have a relaxing day. No time to shout at them now. The lid rattled when he set it down - it had once locked securely, with a key that he carried everywhere, until an emergency caught him unprepared and Crowley had shattered the latch to get inside. He should get it replaced, probably, but in truth the only one he needed to keep out was himself.

Crowley flipped back the lid.

The inside was lined with deep red velvet, worn and torn in many places, and packed tight with rows of glass vials. Some held salt, others spices, herbs, small stones, one even had a jumble of tiny iron nails; the largest held pure black ink. A side compartment held larger stones – amethyst, agate, selenite, quartz. In another, a bundle of candles, black and white and deep violet. An Evil Eye pendant, the back carved with symbols of protection even more obscure.

Every good luck charm, every token of protection that humanity had ever devised. Everything that had ever been waved at him in fear, in an attempt to ward off the evil spirit - everything except holy symbols. Not because he feared them more (though he did), but because they wouldn’t be any help to him now.

Even without the Holy Water, Crowley could still be a danger to himself. Every object in this chest, if used properly, could harm a demon – some of them almost fatally.

He’d learned long ago that sometimes he needed to take risks to protect himself.

--

Crowley decided to make his stand in the bedroom. No windows, only one door, practically a cave, though a literal cave would have been better. He miracled out all the furniture, leaving a glass-fronted concrete cube, facing west across the solarium to the windows, then set to work scrubbing walls, floor, even ceiling until it was almost astringently clean.

Grabbing a bowl from the kitchen, he mixed salt, black pepper, cayenne and a few other ingredients, muttering words of power few humans would still remember. His fingers began to sting as he stirred them through the mixture, but that just meant it was working. Crowley carefully poured a thin line of black and white powder, moving in a clockwise circle in the center of the bedroom, being careful to leave a gap to move in and out through.

Four black candles, set at the cardinal points; four white halfway between them. Three violet, inside the circle. He wasn’t sure if those last ones did anything, but he’d never been summoned while burning them, and he wasn’t going to risk it now.

Another clockwise pass through the room, putting down incense burners – cedar, cloves, dragon’s blood, sandalwood. Even unlit, the scent of them made his lungs ache. He could feel the power building in the room, like a charge of static electricity, like lightning looking for a place to ground itself.

The vial that should have held garlic was empty. He’d used it all back in the 70s and never replaced it. Stupid. Careless. He could miracle some up, but he’d learned the hard way that anything he manifested would be useless for protection until cleansed by a witch. Book Girl would probably help if he asked, but not without asking questions and making it a whole thing. She wouldn’t be as bad as Aziraphale, but it still wouldn’t be good.

Besides, he didn’t even have time for a trip to the grocery store, never mind Tadfield.

The jar of ink, thankfully, was filled to the top. He snapped his fingers to create a paintbrush – that, at least, he could manifest safely – and set to work dabbing sigils of protection on the floor and across the walls. They were hasty, badly formed – but each one hurt, a burning flash of pain up his arm as he finished it, some of them jabbing at his heart. He couldn’t imagine what a proper sigil would do to him, so he went for quantity over quality.

Sixteen around the outside of the salt-and spices circle, eight more around the inside, and one on each wall. In between he set the stones, piles of herbs, and glass jars filled with dried flowers and less savoury items.

The protection in the air was almost palpable now, dragging across his skin, clinging to him like the heat in a sauna. It made his head spin, and he wasn’t even done.

The box was nearly empty now, just a pile of assorted good luck charms – a horseshoe, a rabbit’s foot, a stone with a hole worn through the center – and the Evil Eye amulet.

They burned when he picked them up.

Fumbling, Crowley set the last items around the innermost circle, barely leaving himself space to sit.

Every time he stepped into the solarium, it was like the shock of a cool breeze on a hot day, or the flare of a campfire on a frozen winter night. Both at the same time. A relief. The bedroom repelled him.

He leaned against the table, eyeing the empty chest, trying to think of anything he’d missed.

Nearly sunset. No time now.

He reached for the box of matches, then hesitated.

Heading to the back room one more time, Crowley made a quick call on his mobile phone.

“Hello,” a cheerful voice called across the line, and a little worry unknotted almost immediately. “I’m sorry, you just missed us. We’ve been closed since August—”

“It’s me.”

“Oh! Crowley! How are you? Did you, er, take care of what you needed to do?”

“Nh. Finishing up now.” He grabbed what he needed and turned back, feet dragging as if he could delay the inevitable. “Few more hours. So. Um. Don’t worry. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Well, of course I’m worried, you silly thing.”

“Really you don’t—” The sky burned red as the sun sank behind the buildings of Mayfair. The hook in Crowley’s mind stirred to life.

“It’s my job to worry about you, dear,” Aziraphale went on. “Why don’t you let me come down and help. I’m sure whatever it is—”

“Nuh. No chance.” He snatched up the box of matches, hand shaking so badly half of them immediately spilled onto the floor. Get it together, Crowley! “Stay wh – where you are.” 

“Crowley!” Now there was no mistaking the deep concern. “Something is wrong, I can hear it in your voice.”

“S’fine.” Why was his voice so high?

“I don’t believe that for a second.” A pause, while Aziraphale probably paced around the room, lips pressed together. “I...I know you have your secrets, and I’ve never pried. I won’t start tonight. But, please, just tell me...are you sure everything is alright?”

Crowley took a deep breath, pulling off his glasses to rub at his eyes. No, he wasn’t sure. There was nothing sure about summonings. He’d be in for a fight tonight, and the smallest thing to distract him or throw off his wards could bring disaster.

He knew what he was doing, he was good at this, really. Hadn’t lost the fight in centuries. Not since 1386, when a group of seven summoners had overwhelmed all his defenses. Of course, Crowley had barely escaped them, and when he had…

No. He would not – could not – tell Aziraphale that.

But he wouldn’t lie, either.

“Honestly…no. But I don’t think there’s anything you can do.”

“Crowley…”

“S’fine. M’gonna feel…” His throat closed up, and it had very little to do with the lingering scents of incense. “Feel so much better when I see you tomorrow.”

A short pause, and then a voice so soft it nearly broke Crowley on the spot: “I love you, dearest.”

“Yeah.” Crowley wiped at his eyes again. “I, uh…” Swallowed, tried to clear his throat. “I…”

A tug of power at the back of his mind, almost too subtle to feel. So strong already. The sun hadn’t even fully set.

“I gotta go.” Crowley’s voice was rough, even to his own ears. “Call you in the morning.”

He shoved the mobile into his pocket and hurried back into the bedroom, striking a match as he went, trying to keep his fingers from trembling and putting it out.

Moving clockwise around the room one last time, he carefully lit candles and incense, filling the room with thick, cloying scents. The tug on his mind weakened, but the protective charms were almost as bad, flaring across his skin like red-hot razor blades.

When everything was complete, he settled in the center of the room and poured out the last of the salt-and-spices mixture, closing the circle. At least seven layers of protection surrounded him, candles and charms and sigils and everything else humanity’s fantastic imagination could devise.

Crowley tied the amulet around his neck, where it hung like a millstone, and placed the object he’d retrieved from the back room in front of him: the photograph of Aziraphale, smiling at St James’s Park, three days after the world had ended and a better one had taken its place.

The picture wouldn’t provide any protection, but it made Crowley feel stronger anyway.

“Right, Angel,” he managed, crossing his legs and hunching his shoulders. “Here we go.”

Through the windows of the solarium, he watched the sun vanish.

--

The first attack came an hour after sunset, at 7:18 PM, just as the tension was beginning to make Crowley’s back ache.

Candles flickered around the room, and the flames turned violet-black, one by one, growing, towering almost up to the ceiling. Whenever a candle shifted, it tugged at Crowley, absorbing his own power as much as the power invading his space.

A wind stirred around the circle of salt, sending stray grains rattling and tumbling away. Glass vials rattled and clicked, but so far everything held. Crowley tried to recite the mantra he used - Latin, very dignified and appropriate - but he kept messing up the words.

The air of the room sucked at him, like the sea going out before a wave, and Crowley barely had time to brace himself before the wind solidified, slamming against his circle like a physical force, swirling around him, coiling, boiling, trying to find a way in. 

Each impact rattled him, and the hook in his mind pulled, trying to drag him towards the door.

“No, no, no, fuck off!” He braced his feet against the floorboards and crossed his arms in front of his chest. He gave up on the Latin and tried something more his style: Get the fuck out of my home, repeated, over and over, until it was no longer words, just a wave of sound.

The power slammed against his circle again, nearly knocking him over. One foot lashed out, and his toe caught one of the glass vials of protective herbs. It teetered - spun - and fell over, rolling towards the circle of salt. “Oh, shit, no--”

Before he could put the blessed thing back, the power sensed the hole in his defenses and struck. It hit him in the chest, like an arrow, like a harpoon, and the force of it threw him to the ground. Gasping and twisting, Crowley sprawled on the bedroom floor, scrambling for something to hold on to as the line of power started to pull, dragging him towards the door. He scratched at the concrete floor, the ink-drawn sigils, but there was nothing to hold. His toe tapped another vial.

Fuck, why did I put so many of these things in here? He used the pull on his chest to force himself to sit up, despite the pain, and caught the vial before it fell. The first one had come to rest just shy of the circle of powders, leaving them unbroken. Where did this one come from? All the blessed trinkets made circles within circles, and if he didn’t plug the gap—

Something not-quite-solid shot around Crowley’s neck, constricting, squeezing, pulling him to his feet, up, off the ground. It was a hand, he could feel it, fingers digging into his flesh, becoming more real as it tried to pull him to his destination. Crowley twisted in the air, helpless, feet kicking futilely at a captor who stood miles away, scratching at his own neck in his desperation to get free.

One finger shifted, brushed across the amulet he wore, and suddenly it released him, dropping Crowley in a heap in the middle of the circle. He coughed and tugged at the charm, which sliced his finger like broken glass even though it was still intact, and crawled across the sigils to the gap in the circle of stones and jars. Another bolt of pain struck his shoulder, insubstantial fingers plucked at the collar of his shirt, but with a scream of “Leave me the fuck alone,” Crowley slammed the little glass jar back into place—

A flash of black light and a shock of pain through every nerve—

And suddenly everything was still again.

The candles burned, blue flames steady, the circles unbroken.

Crowley curled into a ball at the center of the circle, shielding his wounds. Everything hurt, his ribs, his shoulder, his back, his neck. He felt like he should be a bloody, bruised mess, but apart from the tiny cut on his finger there was no sign of injury. And beyond that, the cold, every part of him down to his core, a bone-deep cold beyond shivering.

With a great effort, he managed to push his sleeve up enough to see his watch.

7:24 PM.

It was going to be a long night.

Already, somewhere in the back of his mind, he could hear the chanting again, calling to him. The candles started shifting from blue to black. Already.

His eyes fell on the picture of Aziraphale, smiling like a bastard by the duck pond after stealing Crowley’s ice cream. Crowley hadn’t been angry. He’d ordered Aziraphale’s favorite for a reason.

“S’gonna be alright, Angel,” Crowley muttered, forcing himself to sit up even though his arms and chest and head felt like lead. “I’ll see you soon.”

No wind this time; the summoners tried a different approach. The quartz crystals began to glow and hum, a high-pitched noise that ground against Crowley’s eardrums.

He braced himself, eyes on the door.

“Alright, you assholes. Do your worst.”

--

Crowley was not winning.

Candles lay scattered across the floor, most with flames snuffed out, and he had long since lost the power to miracle them back into place. The charms, the herbs, the incense - everything had failed, one by one. Even the sigils were smudged beyond recognition.

Every part of his body was bruised, broken, sore.

Now Crowley clung to the ceiling as a powerful wind shifted the circle of salt, grain by grain breaking down his last barrier. His fingers dug into the light fixture, even as more lines of power than he could count buried themselves into his bones, hauling him towards the door. Metal twisted under his fingers.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he groaned as the circle below grew thinner – thinner – and vanished altogether, breaking the protection with a snap he felt in his soul.

The forces pulling on him – harpoons and snares and hands and everything else the bastards had thrown – suddenly became irresistibly strong, ripping him free, dragging Crowley back along the ceiling.

His feet slammed into the glass above the door, bracing him, but only for the moment. 

It was the last line of defense, the last thing keeping him safe – once he passed through the door they would have him. He pawed at his jacket looking for any other tricks – the amulet had burst shortly after midnight, all the powders burned to nothing, even his mobile phone was gone, lost in some struggle he barely remembered.

Nothing remained but his legs bracing against the wall and ceiling, his mind bracing against the pain and the call, and his glasses…

Shit, that might work.

He pulled them off and glared at the lenses. More black holes than mirrors, but they might be reflective enough.

It was dangerous, trying to reflect power back on the attacker. It worked best if you knew who was attacking you and where they were. A desperate stab in the dark could go wrong in too many ways.

Worse, leaning forward to attempt this might tip his balance enough to drop him through the door, ending this fight entirely.

But what else could he do? Try to hide in this corner until dawn released him?

The glass cracked under his feet.

Now or never.

Planting his feet on the ceiling, Crowley swung his head down, glasses in hand and pointed west, through the door, in the direction the power pulled him. Shoved them right where the pull was strongest and snarled, “Get out of here! Find some other bastard to play your games. I’m not fucking going!”

And just like that, the power released him.

Crowley hit the floor – hard – hard enough to crack his ribs, if they weren’t already damaged, hard enough to slam his teeth against each other. He spat out a mouthful of blood – had he bit his tongue? Or some other injury in the night, ignored until now? – and wriggled across the floor, grabbing four candles as quick as he could. North, east, south, west, all around him. One still flickered and he used it to light the rest before the attack could come again.

But…nothing came. Not even the chanting in the back of his mind.

He looked at his watch, cracked but still running. 5:08 AM.

Had it worked? Had he made it through the night?

Crowley shook his head and let his gaze drift around the room, trying to focus on anything.

What a mess. Broken glass, plant matter and powders scattered everywhere, formless smears of ink, burnt-out wax stubs. Even his glasses were destroyed, frames twisted, glass melted.

Would he have to do this again tonight? Most summoners could only manage an attack like this on certain nights when the forces of the universe aligned, but these had been strong and persistent. There was a chance…

At the center of the room, Aziraphale’s picture suddenly burst into flames, turning to ashes in a heartbeat. Too quickly for a stray spark, for a mundane fire.

“Shit, no, no,” Crowley’s eyes darted around the wreckage for his mobile. Had he dropped it in the corner? Blown out of the room in a stray wind? He snapped his fingers, trying to summon it, but he couldn’t find a whiff of power.

It could be a mistake. It could be a trap. One step out from his makeshift candle circle, and they’d have him, and Crowley didn’t have the strength left to endure what came next.

But if something had happened to Aziraphale, that didn’t fucking matter, did it?

One cautious step past the candles, half in and half out. Nothing.

Three steps to the door, leaning through into the incongruously still-clean flat. Nothing. The plants didn’t even stir.

He crossed the solarium, gazing out through the windows at the night sky. The miracle that allowed him to see the stars despite the lights of the city was rapidly fading, as he hadn’t even the strength to sustain it, but he could still see Venus, clear as lamplight, and Regulus, and Leo…

It wasn’t even near dawn.

And still, nothing tugged at him, nothing beckoned.

Which could only mean…

Crowley ran from the room, all pain forgotten.

--

“No, no, no, shit, shit, shit, no, no, shit, fuck, no,” he muttered the entire drive to Aziraphale’s shop, an excruciating three and a half minutes at speeds the Bentley had never previously reached.

The east window lights were on, the rest of the shop dimmed, the way Aziraphale liked it when he was reading all night in his favorite chair.

The door was blown wide open.

Crowley slammed the Bentley into park right in the middle of the road and staggered out. “No, no, no, Azira—”

There, lying in the doorway: a suit, a waistcoat, a tartan bow tie.

Aziraphale was gone.

Crowley had told the summoners to find some other bastard, and they had. They’d found his bastard.

He collapsed in the street, and for the first time that night, screamed in pain.

--

Thank you for reading, and I’m so sorry! More coming soon!! Special thanks to @angel-and-serpent who gave me so many ideas for protection magic, I’m probably going to have to write MORE fics with witchcraft in them! In particular, thanks for the idea that the protections would hurt Crowley as much as help him, which really allowed me to go off.

[buckysmischief]

That’s What I Am

Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: If this were a fairy tale you’d be the princess who was over protected and Bucky would be a knight in shining armor, not your parents first choice. But  you are no princess, and Bucky isn’t a knight. He does have shiny armor though. 

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: language, so much fluff at the end its gross

AN: that summary is very vague but I'm sleep deprived, just roll with it. This is also for @valkyriesryde 400 writing challenge! My prompt was the song  Uptown Girl (I just like this version) and it’s been an idea I’ve had in my head for such a long time, I hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

☾

Today’s the day you and MJ had been planning for a month. To others a day spent in Brooklyn probably wasn’t a big deal, but it wasn’t often you left the Upper East Side. Your parents, the ones who save you and then adopted you at a young age, were very overprotective. Growing up you understood, but you’re an adult now, you wanted more freedom.

You never grew up resenting Tony and Pepper for their choices, because of them you had an above average upbringing. Even the idea of taking over Stark Industries one day was a  dream. But even with all you had, you just couldn’t shake the feeling that you were missing something.

The sound of your phone ringing suddenly pulled you out of your thoughts. It was Harry Osborn, again. “Harry, please stop calling me every morning. Texting was invented for a reason. Please stop disrespecting its creator and learn to use it.”

Harry was your childhood friend, and your future husband if Tony could find a way to convince you. He wasn’t a bad guy, he just wasn’t the person you could see yourself spending the rest of your life with. There was nothing you didn’t know about him, you couldn’t even think of a time you were romantically attracted to the man.

“But then I’ll never hear your voice thing in the morning, even if it is full of attitude.” oh how you wish he was being sarcastic. “Anyways, do you have plans for today? I was hoping we could go see that new art exhibit-”

“I’m busy, Harry. MJ and I have had these plans for a month.” you interrupted, hoping he would take the hint and let you go. Thankfully, he did.

“Oh okay, maybe another time. Have fun today YN.”

While getting ready for the day you received a text from MJ, Peter and I will be there in 20. He found a really cool bar last night so we can check it out tonight if you want. You send a quick ‘sure’ and finish getting ready. It’s not too chilly now, but if you were going to be out late it would be smart to wear a flannel with your ripped jeans and Vans.

“I’m going out with MJ and Peter, love you both!” you yelled out to Tony and Pepper. Lucky for you, they were too busy trying to get Morgan ready to try and convince you to spend the day with them.

The three of you spent most of your morning getting from the Upper East Side to Brooklyn, occasionally stopping for coffee or to take selfies. Around noon Peter drags you and MJ into his favorite pizza place and start planning the day, but not before you answered a few questions for MJ.

“Before we start doing that, update us on the whole Harry situation.” Where do you start?

“Well, he called again this morning.”

“He knows you’re not a morning person, why does he set himself up?” oblivious Parker being fully aware?

Before you can bring it up in an attempt to change the subject, MJ asks, “What I mean is, why don’t you want to marry Harry? You’ve known him since we were kids, he helps run his dad’s business, he’s stable-”

“That’s exactly it. All of it. I want to meet someone new and actually learn things about them. Harry has everything handed to him, and yes he deserves most of it, but I am not going to be one of those things. Especially since it’s almost expected I spend the rest of my life with him. And, we’re not even dating!” this was a topic you had thought a lot about. Harry has been dropping hints, more like gifts, more and more that he wants to marry you. Why didn’t start with asking you out on a date is a mystery, but it wouldn’t have mattered.

After finishing his slice of pizza, Peter speaks up, “Sounds to me like we found our objective for the day.”

“What’s that?”

“Getting you a boyfriend. Or someone to get Harry off your ass at least.”

“Please no, I’m begging you both.” you give them both a look, they’ve been trying to do this for years and finally they’ll have the chance. You were terrified to say the least.

The rest of the day was, accidentally, spent at an arcade. It was filled wall to wall with different games from new to classic, but you only wanted to play one thing: Ms. Pac-Man. Thankfully it wasn’t the only one in the building, you played for hours until the couple told you it was time to head to the bar.

Once arriving, MJ and Peter go to the bar to get the first round while you look for a booth to sit at. You’re sitting in one you found close to the bar when a man walks up to you, the first thing you noticed were his eyes. Have you ever seen that color blue before? The next was his left arm. How does he have a vibranium arm? The Wakandans don’t just give vibranium to anyone.

“What’s a nice girl like you doin in a place like this?” the more he talked the more you questioned if MJ had sent him over. She knew your type and that accent was at the top of the list. Instead of blowing him off, you decided to have some fun.

“Looking for a downtown man, according to my friends. Any suggestions?”

He gives you an innocent smile, but the look in his eyes are anything but. “That’s what I am, doll.”

You can see MJ and Peter signaling to you from the bar that they’re going to stay there, of course. “Mmm, so what’s your story soldier?” He only give you a curious look.

“I can see your dog tags.” you gesture to his chest. “Do I get that story now? Or at least your name?”

“Bucky. You can call me Bucky.”

“YN.”

A few hours, and drinks, you’ve gotten to know each other better. You told him about you parents and eventually explained the whole Harry Osborn situation. How he couldn’t take a hint and spoiled you with unnecessary, and unwanted, gifts.

Bucky’s friends, Sam and Steve, eventually came over to introduce themselves. You quickly learned that they weren’t shy as they told you about their time in the army. Bucky lost an arm, Sam lost a good friend, and Steve almost lost himself.

“Hey, yn, ask Bucky about his metal arm.” Sam quipped.

“Woah, who has a metal arm?” Peter and MJ would chose that moment to walk in on the conversation, Peter immediately looks at Bucky, “That is awesome dude!”

You and MJ both give Peter a look, but Bucky seems to be unbothered and tells the group how he got him arm.

A group of Wakandans found him floating on a raft after the helicopter he was in exposed. They brought him to their princess, and tech expert, Shuri. She immediately began working on a vibranium arm to replace the one he had lost.

Everyone had lost track of time, surprised to hear the sound of last call at the bar. You were nervous to ask Bucky for his number, there was no way you were going to run into a guy like him and not do anything about it. As you were walking back to the booth, Bucky stood and walked you outside to talk in private.

“So, doll. I was wonderin, if it isn’t too soon, can I take you out on a date? I know I can’t buy you a bunch of fancy things, and your parents probably won’t approve of me, but I’d really like to try.”

He was standing there, looking a lot more nervous than you felt, while you took a second to go over what he just asked.

“I don’t care about gifts or tokens of love, I just want someone who actually cares enough to get to know me and then love me for who I am. As for my parents, they’ll see that you want to do exactly that. They’ll love you. Eventually.”

“Eventually? You don’t sound too convincing”

“Only one way to find out, soldier.” you say to him with a wink.

The next couple of months are spent getting to know Bucky better and introducing him to Tony and Pepper. You were right, they loved him.. eventually. It was during the first night he came over for dinner and he answered every question they could think to throw at him.

Harry, on the other hand, did not take the news well. He eventually stopped talking to you altogether, which hurt at first, but if he couldn’t put his feelings aside and be happy for you then it was his loss.

A year later, the two of you are moving into your own place and Bucky was planning to propose. He had a plan to make you a nice romantic dinner after the house was set up and ask you the big question at the end, but the man couldn’t wait. He needed to hear you say ’yes’ as soon as he could.

That night, the first night in your new home together, Bucky waiter until you crawled into bed beside him.

“Hey Yn.”

“Yeah?” you ask, trying to get comfortable.

He then gets off the bed, pulls something out of his nightstand, and gets down on one knee.

“I was going to ask you after a nice romantic dinner, but I couldn’t wait. Every moment with you is a new reason to live, a new reason to be the best man I can possibly be. I can’t give you everything that you deserve, but I promise to give you all I have. I love you, yn. Will you marry me?”

“Yes! Oh shit, really? Yes!” you sob, happier than you’ve ever been.

Bucky slides the ring onto your finger and gets back into bed. Realizing this was how you were going to spend the rest of your life, you smiled to yourself, knowing it couldn’t be spent with a better person.

☽

Permanent taglist: @sociallyeneptbarnes @valkyriesryde @buckysdumbmetalarm @rogvewitch @infj-slytherclaw @whimsicalatbest @readeity @nea90sweetie @aestheticrelated @pinknerdpanda @justabitoverobsessed @imsoft-barnes @actualdpshuri @goalexis123 @https-bucky @stuckyandsciencebros @moli1497 @agentpeggybarnesfanfics @justmebeingtheweirdmeiam @screaming-fridge @geeksareunique @rhymesmenagerie @brokenthelovely @ivoryhazlewood @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @mushyjellybeans @sebbbystaaan @rayche776 @buggy-blogs @estillion14 @perpetually-tuned-out @stuckonjbbarnes

[96harmony96]

Chapter 15

Friday found Trey sharing breakfast with Cary and me after an overnighter. As I drank the day’s first cup of coffee, I watched him interact with Cary and I was genuinely thrilled to see the intimate smiles and covert touches they gave one another.

I’d had easy relationships like that and hadn’t appreciated them at the time. They had been comfortable and uncomplicated, but they’d been superficial in a fundamental way, too.

How deep could a love affair get if you didn’t know the darkest recesses of your lover’s soul? That was the dilemma I’d faced with Lauren.

Day 2 After Lauren had begun. I found myself wanting to go to her and apologize for leaving her yet again. I wanted to tell her I was there for her, ready to listen or simply offer silent comfort. But I was too emotionally invested. I got wounded too easily. I was too afraid of rejection. And knowing she wouldn’t let me get too close only intensified that fear. Even if we did figure things out, I’d only tear myself apart trying to live with just the bits and pieces she decided to share with me.

At least my job was going well. The celebratory lunch the executives gave in honor of the agency landing the Kingsman account made me genuinely happy. I felt blessed to work in such a positive environment. But when I heard that Lauren had been invited—although no one expected her to show up—I returned quietly to my desk and focused on work the rest of the afternoon.

I hit the gym on the way home; then picked up some items to make fettuccini alfredo for dinner with crème brulée for dessert—comfort food guaranteed to put me in a carbohydrate coma. I expected sleep to offer me a break from the endless what-ifs my brain was recycling, hopefully long into Saturday morning.

Cary and I ate in the living room with chopsticks, his idea to cheer me up. He said dinner was great, but I couldn’t tell. I snapped out of it when he fell silent, too, and I realized I was being a less than stellar friend.

“When are the Grey Isles’ campaign ads going up?” I asked.

“I’m not sure, but get this…” He grinned. “You know how it is with male models—we’re tossed around like condoms at an orgy. It’s tough to stand out from the crowd, unless you’re dating someone famous. Which I’m suddenly reported to be doing since those photos of you and me were plastered everywhere. I’m the side piece of action in your relationship with Lauren Jauregui. You’ve done wonders for making me a hot commodity.”

I laughed. “You didn’t need my help for that.”

“Well, it certainly didn’t hurt. Anyway, they called me back for a couple more shoots. I think they might just use me for more than five minutes.”

“We’ll have to celebrate,” I teased.

“Absolutely. When you’re up for it.”

We ended up hanging out and watching the original Tron. His smartphone rang twenty minutes into the movie and I heard him speaking to his agency. “Sure. I’ll be there in fifteen, tops. I’ll call you when I get there.”

“Got a job?” I asked after he’d hung up.

“Yeah. A model showed up for a night shoot so trashed he’s worthless.” He studied me. “You wanna come?”

I stretched my legs out on the couch. “Nope. I’m good right here.”

“You sure you’re okay?”

“All I need is mindless entertainment. Just the thought of getting dressed again exhausts me.” I’d be happy wearing my flannel pajama bottoms and holey old tank top all weekend. As much as I hurt inside, total comfort outside seemed like a necessity. “Don’t worry about me. I know I’ve been a mess lately, but I’ll get it together. Go on and enjoy yourself.”

After Cary rushed out, I paused the movie and went to the kitchen for some wine. I stopped by the breakfast bar, my fingertips gliding over the roses Lauren had sent me the previous weekend. Petals fell to the countertop like tears. I thought about cutting the stems and using the flower food packet that came with the bouquet, but it was pointless hanging on to them. I’d throw the arrangement away tomorrow, the last reminder of my equally doomed relationship.

I’d gotten farther with Lauren in one week than I had with other relationships that lasted two years. I would always love her for that. Maybe I’d always love her, period.

And one day, that might not hurt so badly.

“Rise and shine, sleepyhead,” Cary singsonged as he yanked the comforter off of me.

“Ugh. Go away.”

“You’ve got five minutes to get your ass up and in the shower, or the shower’s coming to you.”

Opening one eye, I peeked at him. He was shirtless and wearing baggy pants that barely clung to his hips. As far as wake-up calls went, he was prime. “Why do I have to get up?”

“Because when you’re flat on your back you’re not on your feet.”

“Wow. That was deep, Cary Taylor.”

He crossed his arms and shot me an arch look. “We need to go shopping.”

I buried my face in the pillow. “No.”

“Yes. I seem to remember you saying this was a ‘Sunday garden party’ and ‘rock star gathering’ in the same sentence. What the hell do I wear to something like that?”

“Ah, well. Good point.”

“What are you wearing?”

“I…I don’t know. I was leaning toward the ��English tea with hat’ look, but now I’m not so sure.”

He gave a brisk nod. “Right. Let’s hit the shops and find something sexy, classy, and cool.”

Growling a token protest, I rolled out of bed and padded over to the bathroom. It was impossible to shower without thinking of Lauren, without picturing her perfect body and remembering the desperate sounds she made when she came in my mouth. Everywhere I looked, Lauren was there. I’d even started hallucinating black Bentley SUVs all around town. I thought I spotted one damn near everywhere I went.

Cary and I had lunch; then we bounced all over the city, hitting the best of the Upper East Side thrift stores and Madison Avenue boutiques before taking a taxi downtown to SoHo. Along the way, Cary had two teenage girls ask for his autograph, which tickled me more than him, I think.

“Told you,” he crowed.

“Told me what?”

“They recognized me from an entertainment news blog. One of the posts about you and Jauregui.”

I snorted. “Glad my love life is working out for someone.”

He was due at another job around three and I went with him, spending a few hours in the studio of a loud and brash photographer. Remembering it was Saturday, I slipped into a far corner and made my weekly call to my dad.

“You still happy in New York?” he asked me above the background noise of dispatch talking over the radio in his cruiser.

“So far so good.” A lie, but the truth helped no one.

His partner said something I didn’t catch. My dad snorted and said, “Hey, Chris insists he saw you on television the other day. Some cable channel, celebrity gossip thing. The guys won’t leave me alone about it.”

I sighed. “Tell them watching those shows is bad for their brain cells.”

“So you’re not dating one of the richest people in America?”

“No. What about your love life?” I asked, quickly diverting. “Are you seeing anyone?”

“Nothing serious. Hang on.” He responded to a call on the radio, then said, “Sorry, sweetheart. I have to run. I love you. Miss you like crazy.”

“I miss you, too, Daddy. Be careful.”

“Always. Bye.”

I killed the call and went back to my former spot to wait for Cary to wrap things up. In the lull, my mind tormented me. Where was Lauren now? What was she doing?

Would Monday bring me an inbox full of photos of her with another woman?

____

Sunday afternoon I borrowed Clancy and one of Stanton’s town cars for the drive out to the Vidal estate in Dutchess County. Leaning back in the seat, I looked out the window, absently admiring the serene vista of rolling meadows and green woodlands that stretched to the distant horizon. I realized I was working on Day 4 After Lauren. The pain I’d felt the first few days had turned into a dull throbbing that felt almost like the flu. Every part of my body ached, as if I was going through some sort of physical withdrawal and my throat burned with unshed tears.

“Are you nervous?” Cary asked me.

I glanced at him. “Not really. Lauren won’t be there.”

“You’re sure about that?”

“I wouldn’t be going if I thought otherwise. I do have some pride you know.” I watched him drum his fingers on the armrest between our two seats. For all the shopping we’d done yesterday, he’d made only one purchase: a black leather tie. I’d teased him mercilessly about it, he of the perfect fashion sense going with something like that.

He caught me looking at it. “What? You still don’t like my tie? I think it works well with the emo jeans and my lounge lizard jacket.”

“Cary”—my lips quirked—“you can wear anything.”

It was true. Cary could pull any look off, a benefit of having a sculpted rangy body and a face that could make angels weep.

I set my hand over his restless fingers. “Are you nervous?”

“Trey didn’t call last night,” he muttered. “He said he would.”

I gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “It’s just one missed call, Cary. I’m sure it doesn’t mean anything serious.”

“He could’ve called this morning,” he argued. “Trey’s not flakey like the others I’ve dated. He wouldn’t have forgotten to call, which means he just doesn’t want to.”

“The rat bastard. I’ll be sure to take lots of pictures of you having a great time looking sexy, classy, and cool to torment him with on Monday.”

His mouth twitched. “Ah, the deviousness of the female mind. It’s a shame Jauregui won’t see you today. I think I got a semi when you came out of your room in that dress.”

“Eww!” I smacked his shoulder and mock-glared when he laughed.

The dress had seemed perfect to both of us when we’d found it. It was cut in a classic garden party style—fitted bodice with a knee-length skirt that flared out from the waist. It was even white with flowers. But that’s where the tea-and-crumpets style ended.

The edginess came from the strapless form, the alternating layers of black and crimson satin underskirts that gave it volume, and the black leather flowers that looked like wicked pinwheels. Cary had picked the red Jimmy Choo peep-toe pumps out of my closet and the ruby drop earrings to give it all the finishing touch. We’d decided to leave my hair loose around my shoulders, in case we arrived and learned that hats were required. All in all, I felt pretty and confident.

Clancy drove us through an imposing set of monogrammed gates and turned into a circular driveway, following the direction of a valet. Cary and I got out by the entrance, and he took my arm as my heels sank into blue-gray gravel on the walk to the house.

Upon entering the Vidal’s sprawling Tudor-style mansion, we were warmly greeted by lauren’s family in a receiving line—her mother, stepfather, Christopher, and their sister.

I took in the sight, thinking the Vidal family could only look more perfect if Lauren was lined up with them. Her mother and sister had her coloring, both women boasting the same glossy obsidian hair and thickly-lashed green eyes. They were both beautiful in a finely wrought way.

“Camila!” Lauren’s mother drew me toward her, then air-kissed both of my cheeks. “I’m so pleased to finally meet you. What a gorgeous girl you are! And your dress. I love it.”

“Thank you.”

Her hands brushed over my hair, cupped my face, and then slid down my arms. It was hard for me to bear it, because touching was sometimes an anxiety trigger for me when the person was a stranger. “Your hair, is it naturally brunette?”

“Yes,” I replied, startled and confused by the question. Who asked a question like that of a stranger?

“How fascinating. Well, welcome. I hope you have a wonderful time. We’re so glad you could make it.”

Feeling strangely unsettled, I was grateful when her attention moved to Cary and zeroed in.

“And you must be Cary,” she crooned. “Here I’d been certain my three children were the most attractive in the world. I see I was wrong about that. You are simply divine, young man.”

Cary flashed his megawatt smile. “Ah, I think I’m in love, Mrs. Vidal.”

she laughed with throaty delight. “Please. Call me Elizabeth. Or Lizzie, if you’re brave enough.”

Looking away, I found my hand clasped by Christopher Vidal Senior. In many ways, he reminded me of his son, with his slate green eyes and boyish smile. In others, he was a pleasant surprise. Dressed in khakis, loafers, and a cashmere cardigan, he looked more like a college professor than a music company executive.

“Camila. May I call you Camila?”

“Please do.”

“Call me Chris. It makes it a little easier to distinguish between me and Christopher.” His head tilted to the side as he contemplated me through quirky brass spectacles. “I can see why Lauren is so taken with you. Your eyes are a deep chocolate brown, yet they’re so clear and direct. Quite the most beautiful eyes I think I’ve ever seen, aside from my wife’s.”

I flushed. “Thank you.”

“Is Lauren coming?”

“Not that I’m aware of.” Why didn’t her parents know the answer to that question?

“We always hope.” He gestured at a waiting servant. “Please head back to the gardens and make yourself at home.”

Christopher greeted me with a hug and a kiss on the cheek, while lauren’s sister Ireland sized me up in a sulky way that only a teenager could pull off. “You’re a brunette,” she said.

Jeez. Was lauren’s preference for light-haired women a damn law or something? “And you’re a very lovely brunette.”

Cary offered me his arm and I accepted it gratefully.

As we walked away, he asked me quietly, “Were they what you expected?”

“Her mom, maybe. Her stepdad, no.” I looked back over my shoulder, taking in the elegant floor-length cream sheath dress that clung to Elizabeth Vidal’s svelte figure. I thought of what little I knew about Lauren’s family. “How does a girl grow up to be a businesswoman who takes over her stepfather’s family business?”

“Jauregui owns shares in Vidal Records?”

“Controlling interest.”

“Hmm. Maybe it was a bailout?” he offered. “A helping hand during a trying time for the music industry?”

“Why not just give him the money?” I wondered.

“Because she’s a shrewd businesswoman?”

With a sharp exhalation, I waved the question away and cleared my mind. I was attending the party for Cary, not Lauren, and I was going to keep that first and foremost in my thoughts.

Once we’d moved outside, we found a large, elaborately decorated marquee erected in the rear garden. Although the day was beautiful enough to stay out in the sun, I found a seat at a circular table covered in white damask instead.

Cary patted my shoulder. “You relax. I’ll network.”

“Go get ’em.”

He moved away, intent on his agenda.

I sipped champagne and chatted with everyone who stopped by to strike up a conversation. There were a lot of recording artists at the party whose work I listened to, and I watched them covertly, a bit starstruck. For all the elegance of the surroundings and the endless number of servants, the overall vibe was casual and relaxed.

I was starting to enjoy myself when someone I’d hoped never to see again stepped out of the house onto the terrace: Magdalene Perez, looking phenomenal in a rose-hued chiffon gown that floated around her knees.

A hand settled on my shoulder and squeezed, setting my heart racing because it reminded me of the night Cary and I had gone to lauren’s club. But the figure that rounded me this time was Christopher.

“Hey, Camila.” He took the chair next to mine and set his elbows on his knees, leaning toward me. “Are you having fun? You’re not mingling much.”

“I’m having a great time.” At least I had been. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“Thank you for coming. My parents are stoked you’re here. Me, too, of course.” His grin made me smile, as did his tie, which had cartoon vinyl records all over it. “Are you hungry? The crab cakes are great. Grab one when the tray comes by.”

“I’ll do that.”

“Let me know if you need anything. And save a dance for me.” He winked, and then hopped up and away.

Ireland took his seat, arranging herself with the practiced grace of a finishing school graduate. Her hair fell in a single length to her waist and her beautiful eyes were direct in a way I could appreciate. she looked worldlier than her seventeen years. “Hi.”

“Hello.”

“Where’s Lauren?”

I shrugged at the blunt question. “I’m not sure.”

she nodded sagely. “she’s good at being a loner.”

“Has she always been that way?”

“I guess. she moved out when I was little. Do you love her?”

My breath caught for a second. I released it in a rush and said simply, “Yes.”

“I thought so when I saw that video of you two in Bryant Park.” she bit her lush lower lip. “Is she fun? You know…to hang around with?”

“Oh. Well…” God. Did anyone know Lauren? “I wouldn’t say she’s fun, but she’s never boring.”

The live band began playing “I’ve Got You Under My Skin” and Cary appeared beside me as if by magic. “Time to make me look good, Ginger.”

“I’ll try my best, Fred.” I smiled at Ireland. “Excuse me a minute.”

“Three minutes, forty seconds,” she corrected, displaying some of her family’s expertise in music.

Cary led me onto the empty dance floor and pulled me into a swift foxtrot. It took me a minute to get into it, because I’d been stiff and tight with misery for days. Then the synergy of longtime partners kicked in and we glided across the floor with sweeping steps.

When the singer’s voice faded with the music, we stopped, breathless. We were pleasantly surprised by applause. Cary gave an elegant bow and I held on to his hand for stability as I dipped into a curtsy.

When I lifted my head and straightened, I found Lauren standing in front of me. Startled, I stumbled back a step. she was seriously underdressed in jeans and an untucked white dress shirt that was open at the collar and rolled up at the sleeves, but she was so damn fine she still put every other woman in attendance to shame.

The tremendous yearning I felt at the sight of her overwhelmed me. Distantly I was aware of the band’s singer pulling Cary away, but I couldn’t tear my gaze away from Lauren, whose wildly green eyes burned into mine.

“What are you doing here?” she snapped, scowling.

I recoiled from her harshness. “Excuse me?”

“You shouldn’t be here.” she grabbed me by the elbow and started hauling me toward the house. “I don’t want you here.”

If she’d spit in my face, it couldn’t have devastated me more. I yanked my arm free of her and walked briskly toward the house with my head held high, praying I could make it to the privacy of the town car and Clancy’s protective watch before the tears started falling.

Behind me, I heard a come-hither female voice call out lauren’s name and I sent up a prayer that the woman would stall her long enough for me to get out without further confrontation.

I thought I just might make it when I passed into the cool interior of the house.

“Camila, wait.”

My shoulders hunched at the sound of Lauren’s voice and I refused to look at her. “Get lost. I can show myself out.”

“I’m not done—”

“I am!” I pivoted to face her. “You don’t get to talk to me that way. Who do you think you are? You think I came here for you? That I was hoping I’d see you and you’d throw me a goddamn scrap or bone…some pathetic acknowledgment of my existence? Maybe I’d be able to harass you into a quick, dirty fuck in a corner somewhere in a pitiful effort to win you back?”

“Shut up, Camila.” Her gaze was scorching hot, her jaw tight and hard. “Listen to me—”

“I’m only here because I was told you wouldn’t be. I’m here for Cary and his career. So you can go back to the party and forget about me all over again. I assure you, when I walk out the door, I’ll be doing the same to you.”

“Shut your damned mouth.” she caught me by the elbows and shook me so hard my teeth snapped together. “Just shut up and let me talk.”

I slapped her hard enough to turn her head. “Don’t touch me.”

With a growl, Lauren hauled me into her and kissed me hard, bruising my lips. Her hand was in my hair, fisting it roughly, holding me in place so I couldn’t turn away. I bit the tongue she thrust aggressively into my mouth, then her lower lip, tasting blood, but she didn’t stop. I shoved at her shoulders with everything I had, but I couldn’t budge her.

Goddamn Stanton! If not for him and my crazy-assed mother, I’d have had a few Krav Maga classes under my belt by now…

Lauren kissed me as if she was starved for the taste of me and my resistance began to melt. she smelled so good, so familiar. Her body felt so perfectly right against mine. My nipples betrayed me, hardening into tight points, and a slow, hot trickle of arousal gathered in my core. My heart thundered in my chest.

God, I wanted her. The craving hadn’t gone away, not even for a minute.

she picked me up. Imprisoned by her tight grip, it was hard to breathe and my head began to spin. When she carried me through a door and kicked it shut behind her, I couldn’t do more than make a feeble sound of protest.

I found myself pressed against a heavy glass door on the other side of a library, lauren’s hard and powerful body subduing my own. Her arm at my waist slid lower, her hand delving beneath my skirts and finding the curves of my butt exposed by my lacy boy shorts underwear. she wrenched my hips hard to her, making me feel how hard she was, how aroused. My sex trembled with want, achingly empty.

All the fight left me. My arms fell to my sides, my palms pressing flat to the glass. I felt the brittle tension drain from her body as I softened in surrender, the pressure of her mouth easing and her kiss turning into a passionate coaxing.

“Camila,” she breathed gruffly. “Don’t fight me. I can’t take it.”

My eyes closed. “Let me go, Lauren.”

she nuzzled her cheek against mine, her breath gusting hard and fast over my ear. “I can’t. I know you’re disgusted by what you saw the other night…what I was doing to myself—”

“Lauren, no!” God. Did she think I left hee because of that? “That’s not why—”

“I’m losing my mind without you.” Her lips were gliding down my neck, her tongue stroking over my racing pulse. she sucked on my skin and pleasure radiated through me. “I can’t think. I can’t work or sleep. My body aches for you. I can make you want me again. Let me try.”

Tears slipped free and ran down my face. They splashed on the upper swell of my breasts and she licked at them, lapping them away.

How would I ever recover if she made love to me again? How would I survive if she didn’t?

“I never stopped wanting you,” I whispered. “I can’t stop. But you hurt me, Lauren. You have the power to hurt me like no one else can.”

Her gaze was stark and confused on my face. “I hurt you? How?”

“You lied to me. You shut me out.” I cupped her face, needing hero to understand this one thing without question. “Your past doesn’t have the power to push me away. Only you can do that, and you did.”

“I didn’t know what to do,” she rasped. “I never wanted you to see me like that…”

“That’s the problem, Lauren. I want to know who you are, the good and the bad, and you want to keep parts of yourself hidden from me. If you don’t open up, we’re going to lose each other down the road and I won’t be able to take it. I’m barely surviving it now. I’ve crawled through the last four days of my life. Another week, a month…It’ll break me to give you up.”

“I can let you in, Camila. I’m trying. But your first response when I screw up is to run away. You do it every time and I can’t stand feeling like any moment I’m going to do or say something wrong and you’re going to bolt.”

Her mouth was tender again as she brushed her lips back and forth over mine. I didn’t argue with her. How could I, when she was right?

“I hoped you’d come back on your own,” she murmured, “but I can’t stay away anymore. I’ll carry you out of here if I have to. Whatever it takes to get you back in the same room with me, talking this out.”

My heart stuttered. “You were hoping I’d come back? I thought…You gave me back my keys. I thought we were over.”

she pulled back, her face set in fierce lines. “We’ll never be over, Camila.”

I looked at her, my heart aching like an open wound at how beautiful she was, how broken and in pain she was—pain I’d caused to some degree.

On tiptoes, I kissed the reddened handprint I’d left on her cheek, clutching her thick silky hair in my hands.

Lauren bent her knees to align our bodies, her breathing harsh and erratic. “I’ll do whatever you want, whatever you need. Anything. Just take me back.”

Maybe I should have been scared by the depth of her need, but I felt the same passionate insanity for her.

Running my hands down her chest in an effort to soothe her trembling, I gave her the hard truth. “We can’t seem to stop making each other miserable. I can’t keep doing this to you and I can’t keep going through these crazy highs and lows. We need help, Lauren. We’re seriously dysfunctional.”

“I saw Dr. Petersen on Friday. He’s going to take me on as a patient, and—if you agree—he’ll take us both on as a couple. I figured if you can trust him, I can try.”

“Dr. Petersen?” I remembered the brief jolt I’d felt at seeing a black Bentley SUV when Clancy pulled away from the doctor’s office. At the time, I’d told myself it was wishful thinking. After all, there were countless black SUVs in New York. “You had me followed.”

Her chest expanded on a deep breath. she didn’t deny it.

I bit back my anger. I could only imagine how terrible it must be for her to be so dependent on something—someone—she couldn’t control. What mattered most at that moment were her willingness to try and the fact that it wasn’t just talk. she’d actually taken steps. “It’s going to be a lot of work, Lauren,” I warned her.

“I’m not afraid of work.” she was touching me restlessly, her hands sliding over my thighs and buttocks as if caressing my bare skin was as necessary to her as breathing. “I’m only afraid of losing you.”

I pressed my cheek to her. We completed each other. Even now, as her hands roamed possessively over me, I felt a thawing in my soul, the desperate relief of being held—finally—by the woman who understood and satisfied my deepest, most intimate desires.

“I need you.” Her mouth was sliding over my cheek and down my throat. “I need to be inside you…”

“No. My God. Not here.” But my protest sounded weak even to my own ears. I wanted her anywhere, anytime, any way…

“It has to be here,” she muttered, dropping to her knees. “It has to be now.”

she chafed my skin ripping the lace of my panties away; then she shoved my skirts to my waist and licked my cleft, her tongue parting my folds to stroke over my throbbing clit.

I gasped and tried to recoil, but there was nowhere to go. Not with the door at my back and a grimly determined Lauren in front, one hand keeping me pinned while the other lifted my left leg over her shoulder, opening me to her ardent mouth.

My head thudded against the glass, heat pulsing through my blood from the point where her tongue was driving me mad. My leg flexed against her back, urging her closer, my hands cupping her head to hold her still as I rocked into her. Feeling the rough satin strands of her hair against my sensitive inner thighs was its own provocation, heightening my awareness of everything around me…

We were in Lauren’s parents’ house, in the midst of a party attended by dozens of famous people, and she was on her knees, growling her hunger as she licked and sucked my slick, aching cleft. she knew just how to get to me, knew what I liked and needed. she had an understanding of my nature that went above and beyond her incredible oral skills. The combination was devastating and addicting.

My body shook, my eyelids heavy from the illicit pleasure. “Lauren…You make me come so hard.”

Her tongue rubbed over and over the clenching entrance to my body, teasing me, making me grind shamelessly into her working mouth. Her hands cupped my bare butt, kneading, urging me onto her tongue as she thrust it inside me. There was reverence in the greedy way she enjoyed me, the unmistakable sense that she worshipped my body, that pleasuring it and taking pleasure from it was as vital to her as the blood in her veins.

“Yes,” I hissed, feeling the orgasm building. I was buzzed by champagne and the heated scent of Lauren’s skin mixed with my own arousal. My breasts strained within the increasingly too-tight confines of my strapless bra, my body trembling on the edge of a desperately needed orgasm. “I’m so close.”

A movement on the far side of the room caught my eye and I froze, my gaze locking with Magdalene’s. she stood just inside the door, halted midstride, staring wide-eyed and open-mouthed at the back of Lauren’s moving head.

But she was either oblivious or too impassioned to care. Her lips circled my clit and her cheeks hallowed. Sucking rhythmically, she massaged the hypersensitive knot with the tip of her tongue.

Everything tightened viciously, then released in a fiery burst of pleasure.

The orgasm poured through me in a scorching wave. I cried out, pumping my hips mindlessly into her mouth, lost to the primal connection between us. Lauren held me up as my knees weakened, tonguing my quivering flesh until the last tremor faded.

When I opened my eyes again, our audience of one had fled.

Standing in a rush Lauren picked me up and carried me to the couch. she dropped me lengthwise on the cushion; then hauled my hips up to rest on the armrest, arching my spine.

I eyed her up the length of my torso. Why not just fold me over and fuck me from behind?

Then she ripped open her button-fly and pulled her big, beautiful penis out, and I didn’t care how she took me just so long as she did. I whimpered as she shoved into me, my body struggling to accommodate the wonderful fullness I craved. Yanking my hips to meet her powerful thrusts, Lauren battered my tender sex with that brutally thick column of rigid flesh, her gaze dark and possessive, her breath leaving her in primitive grunts every time she hit the end of me.

A trembling moan left me, the friction of her drives stirring my never-sated need to be fucked senseless by her. Only her.

A handful of strokes and her head fell back as she gasped my name, her hips rolling to stir me into a frenzy. “Squeeze me, Camila. Squeeze my dick.”

When I complied, the ragged sound she made was so erotic my sex trembled in appreciation. “Yeah, angel…just like that.”

I tightened around her and she cursed. Her gaze found mine, the stunning green hazed with sexual euphoria. A convulsive shudder wracked her powerful frame, followed by an agonized sound of ecstasy. Her cock jerked inside me, once, twice, and then she was coming long and hard, spurting hotly into the clutching depths of my body.

I didn’t have time to climax again, but it didn’t matter. I watched her with awe and pure female triumph. I could do this to her.

In the moments of orgasm, I owned her as completely as she owned me.

[gingerteaonthetardis]

prompt: 31 days of ficmas - ugly jumper

pairing: ...fremione again, don’t judge me

word count: 2537

rating: t for tender, baby

as usual, this is basically totally unedited, though @lotsofthinkythoughts​ was kind enough to give it a looking over. thanks, babe. you’re basically the reason i write.

Christmas morning comes early and eager to the little flat over the joke shop.

"Hermione."

Awareness drifts toward the sleeping witch, painted coral behind her eyelids. Warm breath teases the back of her neck, stirring up curls and goosebumps.

"Hermione, wake up, love."

The weight of an arm, sliding around her waist and pulling her back, back against a slab of warmth. Skin. Soft. 

Flannel-clad legs shift to cradle with her bare ones, still burning with that sleepy heat. It's nice, she thinks. Cozy, despite the twitchiness of her heat source.

She nestles further into her bedsheets and sighs.

Her silence is met with a whine. "Wake up, wake up, wake up," is mumbled in rapid, husky succession, and then: "Hermione, c'mon, it's Christmas and you're missing it. Wake up!"

She attempts to negotiate, eyes still firmly closed. "Five more minutes."

"You're awake! Oh, good, can we—?"

"No."

She can feel him wriggling happily against her, eager as any kid on Christmas morning, his nose nuzzling into her neck as he hums with pleasure. To her dismay, more gooseflesh—and thus, awareness—rises to meet the vibrations. She groans in irritation and opens her bleary eyes. 

The first thing she sees is the window, slightly frosted, and beyond it, the unmistakable, hazy pastel sky of near-dawn. "Fuck. Fred. It's too early."

Hermione feels the smile against her ear, can practically see the flash of teeth and the unforgiving glint of enthusiasm. Overgrown child. Her lips twitch automatically, struggling sleepily to mirror what she can't yet see.

With a great, put-upon sigh, she rolls over to face him.

He immediately tugs her close again, their knees interlocking beneath the sheets. The freckles dotting his bare arms stand out sharply on winter-pale skin.

"G'morning, Mrs. Claus!"

Fred's eyes dart over her hair unraveling from its braid, and her eyes smudgy with sleep, and he gives a contented little sigh that she sees more than hears. He's all but glowing, smiling like her ascent into consciousness and subsequent sniping are the most unbelievable of gifts. Her pulse stutters in her chest when he whispers, "Happy Christmas."

By the time he's peppered her face with kisses, she is no longer quite so irritable or sluggish. "Let me guess," she says, running a hand through his sleep-missed hair. It sticks up and out and everywhere, almost as much as hers. "You want your present." He doesn't nod so much as vibrate in and up-and-downish, eager sort of way while her lips press together, holding off a laugh. He's so wonderfully predictable. "Now? Shall I go get it?" 

A tiny pout forms, a wrinkle marring his forehead. "You have to leave bed to get my present?"

 She blinks. "...yes."

"Oh." 

"Are you telling me—" Hermione says, fighting to sound serious. (With him, it is and will always be a losing battle.) "—that I could've saved my Sickles and given you sex for Christmas?" 

"Probably," he admits. He doesn't even blush, because shame, to Fred Weasley, is essentially a foreign concept.

Her grin is beginning to escape at the edges of her lips. But she puts up a valiant effort. "Well, how about this: If you don't like the present, we can have sex and I'll call it part of the gift."

His hand, the one lying on her waist, begins to drift down, over her sleep shorts, to her bare thigh. "And if I do like it?"

She pretends to consider for a long moment, and then shrugs. "Then we can have sex and call it… a token of your thanks."

"But not part of your present?"

"I don't know," she says, arching a brow. "I guess that depends on the other parts."

There is a flash of something wicked in his grin that disappears as quickly as it comes. Anyone who knew him less might miss it, but she knows him better than she's ever known anyone, and she knows she should be worried.

Hermione tries to muster some up. But she can't. He's just too beaming and bright. And it's Christmas. Instead, she just heaves herself up off the bed, quickly glancing over at the clock. 5:28 a.m.

Well, she was planning on later, but now will have to do.

She doesn’t stop to slip on her robe or slippers, instead padding barefoot out to the living room where his gift is waiting—unwrapped, yes, but still concealed with charms and cleverness. Now, it takes its rightful place under the Christmas tree, and she kneels beside it.

It takes a moment to get the thing ready. A cord needs to be plugged in, of course. (Getting that installed into the flat without him knowing had taken some doing and the guileless distraction provided by George and Angelina’s children.) After that, antennae need fiddling, knobs need twisting. Plastic needs thumping, or perhaps that’s just her residual morning irritability. 

At first, there’s only a smattering of static, little swoops and burps of garbled voices. (Getting a signal this far out of Muggle London had proved to be another, not unsubstantial challenge.) But she’d done her research. She had a good idea of what channels would play and which ones were a lost cause. A few more twists of the dial, and out of the static emerges a voice, iconic, intimately familiar to Hermione, though it sings in a place it’s never been before, sings in a world it could never conceive of.

Through the warm, emotive strains of violin, she hears the sudden, heavy thunk of feet hitting the floor—both at once, as if he’s leapt from the bed. His rapid footfalls are out of step with the melody, as Judy Garland croons about her troubles being out of sight. 

Hermione grins.

Fred rushes into the living room, still barefoot and bare-chested. His eyes, ever expressive, are gratifyingly round, and she knows that she’s successfully surprised him. A Muggle ghost of Christmases past sings, sweet and rich, filling their flat, and he simply stares at her with his mouth caught between a shocked ‘o’ and a wide smile.

Hermione can barely speak for the pain in her cheeks. “Happy Christmas, Fred.”

Only once he’s done spinning her in a jubilant circle—once he’s again peppered her entire face in appreciative kisses—does he rush over to the radio sitting beneath the tree, flopping onto his stomach to look at it. He makes no move to touch, instead peering back over his shoulder. “It’s Muggle?”

She nods, pressing her lips together in a tight line. “Mhm.”

“How did you—?”

“Make it work? Your dad and I have been fiddling with it for a few months, here and there—getting it to work around magic was a bit tricky, obviously, and I had to get our flat on the electrical grid, which—I mean, you wouldn’t believe—”

“Wait, what? We have electricity?” He stammers over the word just slightly, still full of awe.

“Yeah.” She bites her lip. “I had it done while you were watching the twins last week. Hope you don’t—”

“Merlin,” he interrupts, “that’s brilliant! Think of the—and we can get one of those blender things!”

She laughs. “Let’s start with the radio and go from there. I was thinking you and Arthur could work on it, see if you can get it to pick up Muggle and magical frequencies. I know it doesn’t work in reverse, but Muggle technologies are a lot more forgiving…”

They’re talking over one another, excited voices almost drowning out the music. Nobody in this flat is muddling through anything. It’s all babble and planning and projects and talking so concretely of the future that they almost forget that it’s now, Christmas, and that only one of them has received their present.

His interest is nowhere near spent and Bing Crosby is crooning when Fred finally rolls over, eyes once again glinting with that hint of something. 

Trouble, Hermione thinks. That’s the only word for it. It was the thing that had drawn Hermione to him in the first place, the thing that had caught her so entirely off guard. She’d spent her entire time at school getting in and out of trouble, and here she was again, living with it. Loving it.

“It’s your turn,” Fred announces, drawing up to his knees. There are little lines across his chest from the slats of the hardwood floor. His hair is still a disaster, and as he gets to his feet, he stretches widely, ribcage jutting out like the slats in an old ship. No amount of Quidditch training could whip the skinny out of him, and no amount of sitting in a workshop had fattened him up. There is a mole she likes, just to the left of his belly button, and a light smattering of gingery gold hair in a familiar trail.

She knows she’s smiling up at him like an idiot, but she can’t seem to stop. “Let’s have it then, Weasley.”

He simply raises an eyebrow. “Oh, that’s nice, very polite.”

But she’s caught up in the euphoria that had swept him away earlier. Ideas buzz through her head, and she wants to hurry up and get back to them. So, she closes her eyes tight and fold her hands together and whispers in a childish voice, “Dearest Santa Claus, please, for Christmas this year, could you maybe... bring me a new boyfriend? Mine doesn’t want to give me my presents; he’s hiding them all away…” She opens one eye and sees him, shoulders silently shaking with laughter.

“Fine,” he sighs, though there’s no force to it. “I’ll be right back. Should’ve been in Slytherin...”

He mutters as he pads back into the bedroom, and she waits. As Bing waxes poetic about white Christmases, she hears the sound of a drawer opening and closing. And then footsteps again, slower now.

Her brow furrows, only smoothing when he reappears in the doorway. He hovers for a second, holding a bundle that’s wrapped only in name—a few thin strips of tissue paper, probably magicked together instead of taped or tied, stand between her and whatever lumpy object he’s holding. She prays to whoever might be listening that it isn’t another kneazle. Crookshanks was irreplaceable, she reminded herself. Surely Fred knew that.

But he looks hesitant for only a moment, and then he’s hurrying, dropping cross-legged onto the floor in front of her. “Here.” That’s all he says, and then he’s shoving the bundle into her arms.

She rips through the tissue paper in one smooth move, revealing a lump of the most drab, the most completely colorless yarn she’s ever encountered. The object—presumably clothing of some sort—is somehow brown and yet, entirely divorced from the warmth and depth of such a welcoming, earthy color as brown. 

Whatever it is, it is, in a word, ugly.

Hermione is careful to control her expression, for once in her twenty-three years. She instead continues to methodically unwrap the hunk of fabric. It is, at least, soft. Dutifully, she strokes her fingers over the knit.

Curiously, she notices that the stitches are unmistakably, uniquely uneven.

Her eyes dart up to meet Fred’s. “Is this…?”

A smile is plucking at the corners of his mouth. “It is,” he answers quietly. “I asked her to. Thought it was high time.”

“Fred.” She swallows. The sudden onslaught of emotion is wholly unexpected, coming in the ugliest and most surreal of packages. She finds that she can’t stop running her hands over the ghastly brown thing, reveling in the soft texture and loving stitches. Tears spring from somewhere, somewhere deep. Somewhere that hasn’t yet recovered from the self-inflicted loss of her parents. Somewhere that, as yet, did not think of herself as part of any family. She is blinking madly, and the man in front of her is just a coppery blur beyond her tears. “Fred,” she says helplessly.

Fred shifts her deftly into his lap, taking the bundle with him so her fingers can continue to rove over her new, handmade-with-love Weasley jumper. He doesn’t hush or soothe—he only sets his chin on her shoulder, burrowing lightly into her neck. His arms wind around her midsection, holding her upright while she slumps. Unmoving and steady, except for his even breaths. Constant. “Unfold it,” he suggests after a time.

“Hm?” she sniffs.

“Unfold the jumper, love.”

Her arms feel heavy as she obeys, lifting the bundle and untucking the sleeves.

Something… something falls into her lap with a light, metallic sound. Something small.

Hermione looks down into her lap and her whole body freezes. She’s not even sure she’s breathing. She knows instinctively that Fred isn’t, having gone motionless just as she did. She doesn’t pick it up. She doesn’t touch the ring that sits in her lap.

“This is probably the most selfish Christmas gift I’ve ever given.” His voice is low, and when it starts to falter, he clears his throat. “But it’s something I’ve been wanting to give you for a very, very long time. I hope you’ll accept it, and all that comes with it. The ugly jumpers and Sunday suppers, the frightening capacity for holding completely unfounded grudges and the occasional dye in the shampoo.” Finally, she breathes, and it’s a huff of a laugh. The influx of oxygen distracts her for a moment before the tears start to sting her eyes once again. 

“I hope you’ll take the lot of us,” he continues, “but especially me. Especially… whatever sort of family we make, together.” She can feel him swallow against her skin. “It’ll never replace what you’ve lost, but you’ll always have me. Even if,” he exhales slowly through his nose, and she feels the air against her throat, “you say ‘oh, sweet Merlin, no’ right now and we have to awkwardly get through Christmas with my family tonight, all of whom very much expect to see that ring on your finger. Even then, I’ll still love you,” and his arms seem to tighten reflexively around her, “and we’ll still be your family. Always.”

He falls into silence. Nat King Cole wishes them—and undoubtedly, he is singing directly to the witch and wizard sitting together in a newly-electrified flat in Wizarding London—a Merry Christmas. And Hermione, finally, her chest veritably bursting with emotion, stutters out a pained, “Sweet Circe, and I got you a radio!”

Fred laughs, and it’s her favorite sound. His chest rumbles against her back, and his arms curl even tighter around her, squeezing away her breath and her worries. “I love my radio,” he soothes. “More than you like that ring, looks like.”

She can’t speak; she just knows she can’t. So, she doesn’t. Instead, Hermione reaches down into her lap and picks up the ring—and Merlin, it’s perfect—and presses it into his palm. Slowly, she extends her fingers out in a fan so he can slide it on while looking over her shoulder. She is still quiet as she cuddles deeper into the circle of arms around her, but eventually, her throat loosens enough to speak. “I have to wear the sweater tonight, don’t I?”

His laugh is still her favorite sound, even has he chuckles out, “Oh, yes. And I believe you owe me a thank you...”

[aria-i-adagio]

Answer 21 questions and tag 21 other people you want to know better

Tagged by @fawnsummer

Nicknames: Metra

Zodiac Sign: Virgo (I’m like the world’s worst Virgo though...)

Height: 5′5″ 

Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw

The last thing I googled: Ummm... I was pulling up the fanlore article on a/b/o fics to make my little brother read it.  Because you know, that’s what responsible, loving siblings do.  And then I watched him make increasingly more disturbed faces.

Favorite musicians: Soundgarden, Depeche Mode, Franz Ferdinand, PJ Harvey, Nick Cave, Bi-2, Nautilus Pompilius, Amanda Palmer, Simon and Garfunkel, Devotchka, R.E.M.

Some song stuck in my head: LP, “When We’re High”

Following: 201

Followers: 49

Do you get asks: Nope.  Would love to get more.

Amount of sleep:  Bitter laughter.

Lucky number: 9

What you’re wearing:  Cut off jeans, freebie t-shirt, and a bandana

Dream job: Religious studies professor at a liberal arts college.  Specializing in Byzantine hagiography and Eastern Orthodox Christian Theology.  But I’m afraid that ship has sailed.

Dream trip: Oh man...so many...  I’ve thought that if would be pretty neat to take trains between Budapest and Istanbul, so I’ll go with that right now.

Instruments: Not enough patience to have ever learned one.

Languages: English and a bit of Russian.

Favorite songs: I think I’m going to go with a themed list.  Let’s play a game, guess the theme correctly, and I’ll do a drawing of your OC for you.

“Sure Feels Good Anyway” Amy Ray

“Stuck in the South” Adia Victoria

“Joy” PJ Harvey

“S.O.B.” Nathaniel Rateliff and the Nightsweats

“My Little Town” Simon and Garfunkel

Random fact:  It seems I now have five cats...  I don’t need five cats.  But they’re good babies.

Aesthetic: Umm...farmhouse industrial.  90s grunge.  Plaid flannel over a t-shirt, leather boots, jeans that are a size too big.  And the job I just turned my keys in for was letting me get aware with it because you know, when you teach math reasonably well and are willing to work in the boonies, you’re almost untouchable.  But... I don’t think I’ll be able to get aware with that casual at the next job.  So, I think I’m going to try to revamp the wardrobe along the lines of Natasha Lyonne’s in Russian Doll.

I’ve been thinking a bit about this since Thursday night.  The prof for that class was trying to get us to think about the ways we make snap judgments about people based on appearance.  So, how do you evaluate someone who you think might be approaching you at a bar?  And well, I realized that I have very, very different criteria for initially physically attractive than the majority of people in that class.  (Again, grunge, bohemian, etc.)  Complicated a bit having somewhat divergent attractiveness scales for whether someone is presenting as masculine, feminine, or more neutral.  I suppose I should have joined the discussion, but I don’t know the folks in this class well, they had been dancing around the topic of sexual orientation and gender identity for the entire class, and I’m not sure I care to spend another summer as the token queer in my classes.

Tagging:  @insurgentinsomniac, @anotherclichednightmare, @ange1bf, @dragonsandreverie, @tenebras-autem-nadir, @queenofthearcana, @queenofmotherfuckingterrasen, @asraslilapprenticexx, @la-piperina, @thattheodoranbadassery  and anyone else who cares to answer.  :)

[rofics]

Come Together pt 12

Bts gang au x hybrid reader and friend

Warnings: cussing, death, guns, creeper? Sex offender mention

Damn it! My plan was ruined! They weren't supposed to forgive each other!

http://rofics.tumblr.com/post/171951890192/come-together-pt-13-bts-x-hybrid-reader-and-friend

I'm not sure how long I napped for, but I felt great when I woke up. I stretched and sighed when my bones popped back into place, stiff muscles loosening. My body relaxes back onto the bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling. Chatter was coming from downstairs, everyone seeminly getting along again.

'Oh hey since you're awake you wanna know that Jungkook kissed while you were sleeping?' Kyra taunts and my eyes widen 'Nuh uh, you're lying' I reply, heart speeding up slightly. 'He did though, on your forehead' she assures and I smile to myself 'Man I thought you meant on the lips' I say jokingly and she goes silent 'He thought about it' she confesses and I sit up 'No way! Now you're just messing with me!' I whine, tail swishing against the bed. 'Maybe you should confess? I know it's kind of unprofessional since you're his bodyguard but Hoseok plans on confessing to Sacha tonight. So you confessing won't hurt' my tail wags at that, big grin on my face.

Those two would be a great couple, I can trust Hoseok with my big sister.

*knock knock knock* my head tilts towards the door, so I sit up and walk to it, peeking my head out.

"Hey Hobi" I greet, opening the door so he can step in.

"So this is yours and Kookie's room" he says with a smile, looking around as I nod. I take a seat on a giant bean bag chair in the room while Hoseok occupies the other.

"So you want to ask Sacha out huh?" I ask, leaning forwards with a smile. He looks at me in confusion before laughing with a nod

"Was I that obvious?" He questions and I nod my head.

"Do you have any pointers? I don't really do this often and I don't want to mess up" he adds, staring at me.

"Most definitely do it in private, and don't straight up say it. She likes you back but asking at random will scramble her brain a bit. Ease it into a cute conversation and you're guaranteed a yes!" I inform, Hoseok nods intently at me, taking in the information.

"Thanks Y/N. I'll owe you one if she says yes" he thanks, standing up and I wave him off.

"We're family Hobi, it means a lot that you came to me. But I do have a question for you...how could I approach Jungkook about feelings? I'm not exactly the best with words and he's pretty shy so it could get awkward" I ask, ear twitching a bit. He smiles down at me and sits back on the bean bag.

"Well he's still a bit hesitant, he does like you but he has to be confident in himself. Right now he's not sure if you like him back, maybe hint at it a bit? He's a strange kid" He replies making me laugh a bit

"Noted, thanks Hobi. Wanna go down together? I'm pretty rested from my nap" I ask and he nods

"I hope you'd be rested, you napped for about 5 hours, Jin was either going to cook or Namjoon would buy us food" he says and nudges my shoulder as I stare at him

"Wow, 5 hours isn't bad" I giggle, opening the door and walking down the stairs. Hoseok leaves the door open and walks down next to me. As always a seat next to Jin is open and I slowly sit down, still the slightest bit weary and upset. Sacha looks at me with a brow raised and I smile at her, shooting her a 'you'll see' look. She rolls her eyes at me and smiles as Hoseok sits next to her, my smile grows as I look at the two. Eli catches my eye and his gaze flicks to Sacha as if he's asking did they confess. I barely shake my head and send a 'not yet' look to which he smiles back at me. Being twins was a lot of fun because we knew exactly what the other meant.

"Now that we're all here what does everyone want to eat? We could go out and get something or just get something delivered" Namjoon asks and Eli pipes up first.

"What if we went out? And maybe go to a bigger arcade? This outing should be better than the others " he says and Tae nods.

"I like that plan!" He says, the two of them high fiving.

"I think that'd be cool" I add, Sacha agreeing as well making Hoseok agree.

"Alright, majority rules. We're going out tonight!" Namjoon exclaims, clapping his hands before getting up. I go and get changed real quick, putting on a red and black flannel, my black jeans, and the black Timbs. I finish my look with a dark red beanie on my head, throwing Sacha a light pink one that matches her pink sweater, jeans, and brown boots. Eli went with Sacha, Hoseok, Yoongi, and Namjoon while I was with the others. I was in between Jungkook and Tae in the backseat, Jimin occupying the seat next to Jin. Our car follows Yoongi's, Namjoon will probably pick the restaurant.

"Hey what did Hoseok hyung talk to you about?" Tae asks out of the blue

"Oh he wanted some pointers on how to ask Sacha out, so I gave him some" I reply

"And she actually likes him back? I'd hate for him to get a broken heart" Jin questions and I stop myself from clicking my tongue in irritation.

"I'm very sure she likes him back, I wouldn't have given him the pointers if she didn't." I say calmly, biting back the sarcasm wanting to leak out. The car stops, the smell of pizza filling my nostrils. I immediately got excited because not only did this place have good pizza, it also had a big ass arcade in the basement. We all get out and head down the stairs, all of the big tables were in the basement. There weren't many people luckily, only a small group of three teens. The waiter takes our drink orders, so I order F/D (fav drink). The dude seemed kind of creepy, he lingered by Sacha and gave me a wink that made me want to hurl.

While we waited for the pizza to arrive we put money into the machine to get tokens, each of us getting a hefty amount. Eli races over to the Dance Dance Revolution machin and I laugh as Hoseok joins him. This is going to be one hell of a show, Eli the goof vs dance master Hoseok. Eli picked Bad Romance by Lady Gaga, he's such a dork. Eli surprisingly does really well, feet keeping up with the arrows. They both have a good time, laughing and yelling random words or sounds. They hit the last note then the score pops up, leaving everyone in shock. Eli beat Hoseok by 1 point! Tae dragged me off to play basketball, putting coins in and poising myself. I feel like Tae had the advantage since he was taller than me but I didn't let that stop me, throwing the balls up into the basket. I somehow ended up winning because Jimin came up and began to pester Tae, making him miss a few shots. I high five Jimin, glad that I had an ally. Tae then challenges Jimin to play so I travel over to Jungkook and Eli racing against each other.

"I want to go against you Y/N!" He states, pulling me closer so I nod with a laugh. Jungkook gets off of his bike and I sit down, body leaning forward. We put the coins in and the timer counts down, I hit the gas when the screen says go, leaving Eli in the dust. I lean my body to the side when I need to turn, eyes focused on the screen. Sacha comes up and slaps my butt with a laugh

"Hey!" I laugh, trying to hit her with one hand and steer with the other.

"What? It's sticking out Jinx, I had to get the shot in" she replies with a giggle. We play a few more games then our multiple pizzas arrive, all of us swarming back to the table for food. We all dig in, conversing with food in our mouths. The group of teens settled into the corner, conversing quietly which made me suspicious. Before I can say something the waiter comes up, standing behind me this time.

"Everything tasting all right?" He asks, and I somehow feel like he's only talking to me which makes me shudder.

"Everything's fine thank you" Jungkook buts in, making me sigh when the creepy waiter leaves.

"That dudes a creeper" Sacha mutters, taking another slice of pizza. I nod, biting into my breadstick. We finish off the pizza and go back to playing more games because we have a shit ton of tokens left. There's a Mortal Combat game so I challenge Jimin, he gives me a 'seriously' look but sits at the machine opposite of mine. I pick Katana while Jimin picked Sub Zero. The fight begins and I land attack after attack, fingers mashing at the buttons. About mid way through match 2 Jimim starts doing really well, blocking and landing attacks.

"Were you holding out on me?" I ask with a laugh but he appears next to me with a grin.

"Nope, I subbed in someone" he states

"Jungkook?" I question, earning a nod from him. Kook takes the second round and we battle it out for the third, each of us wanting to win. I manage to pull a clutch win, getting a long range attack in and killing Sub Zero with one hit left to my health. I cheer, fist bumping the air. Jimin high fives me again and I give Jungkook one, being a good sport. With our last tokens Sacha forces me to play DDR so I pick Just the Way You Are by Bruno Mars.

The song ends and I get a higher score, beating Sacha by 1,000 points. She side hugs me and Namjoon leaves cash for the food so we go to leave, Sacha and I walking in sync. The waiter catches us before we leave

"Wait! Can I have your number?" He asks and I shake my head

"Sorry, I'm already taken" I reply, hugging Sacha closer to me. She nods, playing along.

"She can have my number too" he says suggestively, wiggling an eyebrow and I gag inwardly.

"They don't want your number" Hoseok says, stepping in front of us.

"Shouldn't you be keeping a low profile Kyle Kim? Seeing as how you're a registered sex offender and on parol, I'd hate for officer Park to find out you're trying to make advances on people" Yoongi warns stepping next to Hoseok, making my mouth turn into an o

"Damn Yoongi" I praise, dude turning around wordlessly.

"I don't like pervs" he says with a smile and I fist bump him. We walk back up the stairs peacefully, exiting the front doors to walk behind the building where the cars are. We're greeted by the waiter and the three kids, they all have guns and are in front of our cars. I cast a force field around everyone, one that will richochet the bullets back if they shoot.

"Can we help you?" Eli questions, crossing his arms across his chest.

"You can't, you're twin however, can. They wiped my boyfriend Ayden's memory. He doesn't remember me and his magick is gone, meaning my magick is gone. I'm not too happy about that or the fact your friend knew that I was registered." He says and I raise and eyebrow.

"Wow, you were just feeding off of his power? That's pretty pathetic actually, you get magick from practicing, not leeching it off of someone else" I retort, crossing my arms like Eli. The dude scoffs and points his gun at me, making me smirk. The three kids follow, guns all pointed at me.

"Are those supposed to scare me?" I laugh, taking a step towards them.

"No, rather what's in the bullets. Pure silver, designed to take out your kind, a werewolf" he says and I bite back a laugh.

"Okay, go ahead and shoot. We'll see what happens" I chuckle, I guess he didn't know I'm only half werewolf, Malamute and magick cancel out the harmful affect of silver. I was ready to turn my body into metal any second, eyes watching him intently.

*pow, clank, thud*

The guy shoots, bullet richocheting back, hitting him in the head. He dies instantly, the teens staring at me.

"Drop the guns, you don't want to do anything stupid" Eli adds, stepping closer to me. One of them shoots at him, bullet richocheting back into the kids head. She falls to the ground with a thud as well making me sigh in dispare.

"Please, you're too young to be doing this to yourselves. Don't you want to live to see the future? To grow old and explore?" Sacha asks, trying to save the other two kids. One shoots at Sacha, bullet coming back and another body drops. The last one is stunned, he seemed to be the youngest of the bunch. He stares at his friends then back at us, he throws the gun down and runs back into the building.

"At least one lived" I mutter solemnly, making the Earth take the dead bodies away. Hopefully their souls will go somewhere happier.

Nobody got any calls about an infultrated base, or random attacks so we went back home. It wasn't time for bed but everyone went to change into something comfy, Hoseok asking if Sacha could go to his room for a second. I give him a big smile and a thumbs up before walking into my shared room.

"Is Hoseok hyung going to confess?" Jungkook asks stepping into the room and I nod happily

"Those two are going to be adorable!" I giggle, walking into the closet. I change in the bathroom, not wanting to expose myself. I finish and swing the door open to see Jungkook half naked. He's only in his boxers so I close the door quickly, face completely red

"Sorry!" I shout through the door and place my head on it with a thud. It's silent for a minute or so, clothes rustling

"I'm dressed now" Jungkook says quietly so I slowly open the door and step out with an awkward cough.

"Sorry about that again" I apologize and he shakes his head

"It's okay, it was bound to happen at some point because we live in the same room" he says looking away and I nod my head, eyes on the ground.

"Well should we go back downstairs?" I ask with a smile and he nods. Sacha steps out of Hoseok's door with a wide smile as we exit ours.

"Did you say yes?" I ask and she nods vigorously. I laugh happily and give her a big hug

"Congrats Bee! You two will make a dope ass couple" I praise, ruffling her hair. Hoseok also steps out a smile and I give him a hug

"Good job Hobi! Just remember, don't mess up or you'll randomly disappear without a trace. Not even Yoongi could find you" I warn cutely, patting his back as I pull away. Jungkook snickers at Hoseok's nervous face, Sacha punching my shoulder.

"Don't threaten my boyfriend" she retorts with a laugh, enjoying the word boyfriend. We all walk down to the living room, Sacha and Hoseok hand in hand.

"You asked?" Namjoon asks, motioning to their hands and Hoseok nods.

"Yay! It's about time you got together" Tae says and Jimin nods.

"Seriously, it was painful seeing you two flirt constantly" He adds scrunching his nose and I laugh at how cute he looks.

"He has a point" I say, sitting next to Tae on the couch, Jungkook next to me. We spent the night watching movies like always, it was nice though. It was secure and fun, no awkwardness, just comments about the movie and random silence. One thing did bother me though, it was Jin. He didn't seem the same. I want to talk to him soon, I have to find out why he's still being rude. It's not fair since he's the oldest, he needs to act it. I won't do it tonight, maybe tomorrow morning while he cooks breakfast. I push it out of my mind for now and relax into the couch, legs strewn over Jungkook's for comfort.

*no p.o.v*

Just wait, I'll ruin your happy ending Y/N

*normal p.o.v*

A shiver ran through me, chilling me to the core. Why in the hell does that happen? It's always at night and always before something bad happens.

I think there's someone hiding in the shadows

-Ro! Yay easy chapter! And I finally got sacha and hobi together! I'm going to put reader and kookie through some angst first before they get together 😱as always I hope you enjoy this chapter! <3

[nsu-mosaic]

"Silver Cross" by Nathan Mylie Mosaic 2021 Albert Davis Fiction Award First Place Winner

In the cacophony of the bustling road, Bailey Hess’s boots splashed on the damp street. Through his foggy, brown-rimmed glasses, he was able to see the purple neon sign that read, “l'Équinoxe: World of Voodoo.” He emptied a Klonopin into his hand and dry swallowed it. He fidgeted with the silver cross in his ear before summoning the nerve to go inside. His phone vibrated in his pocket, but he left it unanswered.

The store’s door was wide open for any pilgrim or pariah to enter as they pleased. The store’s interior was small. Most of the shelves were filled with incense, books on spirituality and the occult, and some tacky t-shirts with colorful voodoo dolls. The most striking feature was a large altar near the checkout. It had statues, pictures, and iconography of traditional Catholic figures such as Jesus, Mary, and other saints as well as other figures recognizable only to a person privy to Voodoo. There were also offerings of all sorts including cash, candles, and bottles of liquor.

Bailey walked to the cashier, hoping they’d know something. There was a taxidermied raven with ruby- studded eyes at the register. The cashier had dark skin, buzz cut hair, and a neat lip piercing. He wore a black tank top with a flannel shirt wrapped around his waist. He wore blue headphones. His eyes were closed as he jammed out to whatever tunes he was listening to. Bailey stood there a few seconds before the cashier seemed to notice him and took off his headphones.

“Welcome, how can I help you?” The cashier looked at Bailey, but Bailey avoided eye contact. “We have mini voodoo dolls, only two dollars each.” The cashier gestured to a basket of small woven dolls attached to a key chain.

“I’m not a tourist.” Bailey said, “Does Saint still work here?”

“Who’s asking?”

“My sister was a customer of his.”

The cashier sighed. “Whatever he sells during his off hours ain’t none of my business.”

“It’s not like that. I’m worried about my sister.” He fumbled through his pocket and pulled out a photograph. “Have you seen her around here?”

The cashier looked at the girl in the photograph and then looked back at Bailey who looked nothing like her. “Your sister?”

“My foster-sister. What does it matter?” Bailey raised his voice a little without thinking. He was being snappy. Bailey lowered his head. Arthur Hess had never liked it when the kids were loud. He had liked it even less when they messed up the house. Any time something had broken or gone missing, Olivia was the scapegoat. She had always gotten the worst of it. Bailey was the younger of them. “She hasn’t been answering my calls.” Bailey’s voice quivered like static and he choked down his tears. “I’m worried about her.”

“She used to come in a lot. But it’s been a while. Maybe a month or two.”

Bailey twirled the cross earring. “How did she look the last time you saw her?”

He shook his head, “I don’t think she knew where she was. Girl was out of it.” There was an uncomfortable stretch of silence. The tension sucked the sound out of the store. “Saint should be at a meeting. He goes to the center next to the Gates of Heaven Church around this time.”

“Thanks, I know the one.” Bailey said, en route to leave.

“Hey, hold up.” The cashier waited for Bailey to turn around. “If you want to, you can put your sister’s picture on the altar. The loa may help her find her way, wherever she is.”

Bailey gazed at the grand altar and noticed that, among the sacred icons, were pictures of people in need of prayer. Were they still alive? Bailey saw a skeletal statuette whose eyes were blank, desolate sockets. Bailey’s stomach turned. “I should really hold on to her picture.” Bailey thanked the cashier and went back to the street.

The Gates of Heaven Church wasn’t a far walk. It was an unassuming building that looked more like a beige house than a place of worship. The great gold cross installed on the roof and the sign on the lawn alone gave away the church. There was a matching building used for social gatherings next door.

Before entering the center, Bailey spotted the huge shadow of an angel on the church’s walls. Olivia had dressed as an angel the first Halloween they spent in their apartment together. Bailey had been a stupid skeleton. There was a guy Bailey thought was staring at her all night. Olivia knew he was staring at Bailey. She was a hell of a wingman. He shook his head.The shadow was no angel, though. It was nothing more than a projection of the statue in the church garden.

Bailey waited in the community center’s hallway. People were talking in one of the rooms. He stood there alone with his thoughts and twirled his earring while waiting for them to finish.

Bailey had liked the Hess house, or at least it wasn’t the worst foster home. Arthur was always strict, and he yelled. But his foster-mom, Leslie, was nice. They were overall tolerable. Bailey was fourteen and had been there a few years when he met Olivia. He told himself not to get attached, but he did anyway. Two years later, the Hesses decided to officially adopt him. Olivia on the other hand had turned eighteen and decided it was time to head out.

The door slid open and Bailey felt the cool breeze of the air-conditioned room. Group members filed out, some exchanging in pleasantries, some with their heads down. Saint was one of those sunken heads. Bailey hardly recognized him clean-shaven. Last time Bailey saw him, Saint was underweight and wearing tattered green pants, the only pair he owned. Now Saint’s clothes were not only new, but clean for once. He was wearing a purple t-shirt and jeans. Bailey stepped in front of him, blocking his path.

“Sup, Lil’ Lee?” Saint’s charismatic grin was still the same. “You come for the meeting?”

“No,” said Bailey, “I wanted to know if you’ve run into Olivia lately.”

“Not since I got clean.”

“You’re sober?”

“Yeah, got my six-month chip.” Saint showed off the dark blue token. “Liv took my ass to a meeting after she bailed me out. Everything alright?”

“I was hoping you knew.” Bailey closed his eyes and exhaled, just like Dr. Andrews told him to. “Was she selling again?”

“Not that I know of.” Saint eyed Bailey. “You tripping right now?”

“It’s nothing,” said Bailey. He realized he was wobbling a bit. “Just something to help me sleep.”

Saint squinted at him without answering.

“It’s from my psychiatrist, okay! Did she relapse?”

“Couldn’t tell ya.” Saint sighed, “She been gone that long?” Why did he say it like that?

“She’s just getting some money together.” Bailey explained. His knuckles grew white and he clenched his teeth. The Hesses’ porch flashed in his mind. Arthur’s yelling had been getting loud enough for the whole parish to hear. Olivia had slammed the door as she walked, tired of the lecture. She had sat next to him and saw he was panicking. She’d told him to focus on something else. She said that when she was tense, she’d play with her earrings. It was she who had suggested he get his ears pierced. The memory allowed him to relax enough to think. Bailey asked Saint, “Could she be streetwalking again with the girls?”

Saint grimaced. “It’d be possible. But Lee, your big sis never ran in the safest circles.” He coughed. “If she been away, there might be a reason.”

Bailey didn’t want to think about it. “Whatever.” Bailey turned around but felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t ‘whatever’ me,” Saint said. “You ever heard the phrase, ‘the road to hell is paved with good intentions’?”

“Doesn’t it mean that a good intent is meaningless if you don’t follow through?”

“Can also mean that some actions got unintended consequences,” said Saint. “You don’t seem right.”

“I’m fine,” Bailey’s boots echoed down the hall. He didn’t listen to hear if Saint said anything else.

Bailey left the church and trekked down the moonlit street. He passed by Cengrove Apartments. It had been his and Olivia’s first choice, but the rent was too steep. They had to settle for a place more downtown, but even that wasn’t perfect. Three years in and they couldn’t afford rent anymore. Olivia said she’d go scrounge up some money. No more than two months, as always. Bailey’s job waiting tables wasn't paying the bills and Olivia never kept a job for long. When he asked how she’d get the money, she told him not to worry. She would take care of him. He never knew how he’d pay rent until she got back. At one point she suggested calling Arthur for money. He didn’t like the idea; he didn't like any idea of hers that night. He didn’t want her selling anything. Bailey had tried dissuading her one last time. She had simply taken her birth mother’s silver cross out of her ear and had given it to him for safe keeping. She had left and Bailey wishes she hadn’t.

He knocked on the splintering door of a house that was once violet.

“Lee, what you here for?” Jade stood at the door. She was wearing an airbrush crop top that said Princess.

“Bailey!” Selena ran up and hugged him. She smelled like lavender. It matched her hair. “How you been?”

Bailey didn’t reciprocate the embrace and waited to be let go. “Has Olivia been here lately?”

“Babes ain’t been around in a while.”

Bailey asked, “Was she working the streets with you?”

Jade gave Bailey a familiar look. It was the side-eye she’d give every time he tagged along with Olivia and her group to the pier. Jade would always be the one with pot who refused to share with Bailey. Jade stood there a moment and sighed. “You should go home, kid. You look like shit. We’ll tell ya if we hear anything.”

“I can’t.” Bailey heard his voice crack and took a moment to clear his throat. “Olivia needs my help. She’s gone and no one gives a crap about her. Not her friends, not the police.”

“Why you going to the police?”

“Jadie, calm down.” Selena said.

“You think they care about her?”

Bailey didn’t need to be reminded of his mistake. He knew it was a foolish idea after talking to the officers at the station. They had just groaned when he asked to file a missing person’s report. “I thought they could help.”

“The cops don’t give a shit ’bout some crackwhore who’s missing.” Jade’s voice carried across the street like a siren. “She ain’t shit to them. She just some problem they don’t wanna deal with.”

Bailey couldn’t respond. It felt like someone had him by the throat

“He didn’t mean anything by it. He was only looking for Olivia,” Selena said.

“Well he should check some back alley! Best case, she OD-ed on speed and ain’t trapped in some creep’s basement.” Jade choked on the last word and lowered her head. Her body was quaking. Tears stained her face. It was unnerving to see her this way. Bailey had never seen her like this. “For them it’s all the same. Just taking out the damn trash.”

Selena wrapped her arms around Jade. “She doesn’t mean it, hun. Jade’s worried about your sis. We all are.”

He was not the only one who missed her. He tried to force out an apology, but he didn’t know what to say. He looked around at their space. Their couch was held together by duct tape. There wasn’t much other furniture. The bed was across the room, it didn’t even have a frame. Bailey recognized Selena’s teddy bear laying on it. The ceiling fan wasn’t moving. The lights were off.

“Please go home, kid.” Jade lifted her head from Selena’s shoulders. “Don’t go down with her.”

There had been one night at the pier, where Saint offered Bailey some pills. Jade had stopped him before he could take any. She had punched Saint so hard his nose bled like a busted pipe. Jade had screamed at Bailey for an hour. On the ride home, Selena had told him that Jade was only looking out for him. He hadn’t believed her then.

Bailey left. He walked down the same crowded street aimlessly. Maybe Jade was right, he should probably go home. He kicked up a puddle as he walked. Who knew Olivia might find him. She’d have her six-month chip, like Saint, with a whole stack of cash. They could get a nicer apartment and invite Jade and Selena to stay over. That’d be nice. Bailey’s phone vibrated in his pocket.He ignored it.

He passed by l'Équinoxe. The purple neon sign still managed to catch his eye. Bailey didn’t notice he was fidgeting with the back of the silver cross, his fingernail latched onto the back of his earring. He didn’t notice the man in front of him until their shoulders met. Bailey became dazed. His vision spotted black for a second. The surprise had made Bailey’s hand jerk forward. He looked at it. He noticed a sharp pain coming from his ear. He brought his hand back to it. His fingers rubbed against his earlobe. A cold rush of blood shot through his veins. He didn’t feel the silver cross. When? He imagined the sharp clink the cross would have made as it hit the ground. He immediately turned around. His eyes darted around the dark pavement, looking around for anything remotely shiny. Bailey spotted green shards of a broken bottle, a few cigarette butts, a Lay’s potato chip bag covered in dirt.

He spiraled around, desperately searching. He saw the moving feet of the crowd. Could some pedestrian have stepped on it? The crowd was moving so fast. Where is it? Breaching the flow, Bailey threw himself on the ground and his hands scrambled across the night street. “No, no, my earring. Does anyone see my earring?” He couldn’t see it. Where was Olivia’s earring? Where? It must be somewhere. It couldn’t have disappeared. “Fuck!”

The crowd parted around Bailey. Perhaps, they didn’t hear what he was screaming about or why he was in distress. They kept walking. Eventually, on his knees in the middle of the sidewalk, Bailey began to cry. He was curled into a ball, his face nestled into his hands. Someone walked over to him and patted him on the shoulder.

Bailey looked up to see the cashier. He felt the man’s arms under his shoulder as Bailey was hoisted to his feet.

“Come inside.” The cashier unlocked the doors to the store and led Bailey inside. “Are you okay?”

Bailey’s breaths were stagnant. His muscles tightened as though restricted by chains. The world seemed to crumble around him like heaven was splitting open. He felt like he was about to stumble to the ground.

“Hey, buddy, take a deep breath. In and out.” The cashier demonstrated repeatedly.

Bailey mimicked in and out. After a few minutes passed, his breathing regained its rhythm.

“Now remember a time you were at peace.”

Bailey did as he said. He thought of the waves along the lake. It had been in the middle of the night. Olivia had taken a bottle of gin from Arthur’s cabinet. They had been laughing, they had been calm, they had been happy. Without thought, Bailey hugged the cashier and started weeping on his shoulder. Bailey needed something to hold on to, to ground him. He could feel the exposed skin touch his face, and it was comforting. After an eternity passed, the world stood still, and Bailey released the man. “I don’t know what to do. My sister’s cross is gone.”

“It’s okay, buddy, you’ll find it.”

“What if I never do?” Bailey’s eyes felt heavy. Was it the crying or was he tired?

“Things don’t just disappear.”

“Two months, that was always the rule. When she got out the house, she told me that she would never be gone more than two months. And she never was.” Bailey inhaled through wet nostrils, making a shrill sound. “It’s past two months, where is she?”

“Maybe she’s running late.”

“It’s been 98 days, and no one knows where she is, maybe not even her.” Bailey’s phone started vibrating loudly. Bailey growled and picked the phone out his pocket. “What?” He answered. “Yes, Arthur, I’m fine…Yeah, I thought about what you said… No, I didn’t find a new roommate. I’ll start looking…I appreciate you loaning me the money…” Then Bailey heard Arthur mention her. Bailey tried listening patiently for a few minutes. His hand gripped the phone, and he gritted his teeth. Finally, Bailey yelled, “Can you lay off her for just one second!” Bailey was shocked to hear Arthur apologize. Bailey sniffled, “I’m worried about Liv too…It’s not anyone’s fault…I’ll tell you if I hear anything…Thanks, dad.” Bailey hung up the phone and wiped his eyes with his arm. He looked at the cashier “I’m sorry, you’re a total stranger, and I’m crying like a madman.”

“It’s okay,” The cashier laughed. “I can tell you’ve had a rough night.” The cashier flashed a friendly smile. “My name is Jean, Jean St. Pierre.”

“Bailey Hess.”

“Do you want to get a drink?” Jean placed his hand on Bailey’s shoulder. “You look like you need a friend.”

He wasn’t happy, but he was touched by the invitation. “Maybe, just some water.”

Jean was about to lock up l'Équinoxe.

“Wait, can I step inside for a second?”

Jean nodded and opened the door.

Bailey walked in. He stepped toward the altar. All the candles had been put out. It looked prettier in the dark. He reached in his pocket. He unfolded the piece of paper and gave it a pained smile. Next to a bouquet of white flowers, he placed Olivia’s photo. Bailey looked at the skeleton with the kind black eyes. “Help her find the way. Wherever she is.”

[ahbonjour]

something gay for my scp buds

They first met when Anselman came out of his disciplinary hearing.

Lavoie was waiting for him, fine blond hair, watery blue eyes, anger. “You really fucked with her, you know?”

Anselman bristled, brown eyes flickering behind unstylish glasses. “I just got chewed out in there. I don’t need more here.”

“She’s my patient, she—”

“It. It’s an it, not a she. It’s not your patient.”

Lavoie stepped back, narrow eyes, buck teeth. “You had no right.”

“None of us has a right.” Anselman hunched, a big man feeling very quiet and small. “I didn’t mean to fuck anything up. I’m sorry.”

“You ought to be transferred.”

“They can’t. The lemon doesn’t trust anyone else. I’ve tried to get him away from me, but.”

Lavoie rolled his eyes, watery blue eyes, long legs. The hallway was empty as he walked away, his leather shoes making a soft squeak like a dying mouse as he left Anselman behind.

They didn’t speak again for two weeks. They had no reason to, they were assigned to different projects, they had different disciplines. They passed each other on the way to their respective children and looked at each other, unstylish glasses and watery blue, and they tried to figure out how the other one worked.

Lavoie confronted him outside of the dormitory snack machines, because of course he did. It was late, they were both in pajamas, Anselman was clutching a fistful of Snickers bars. Lavoie said, “Why do you hate them?”

Anselman tried to find a witty retort, but he was too distracted by Lavoie’s matching pajamas, button down and sky blue and white slippers. Who dressed like that? “Who?”

“The SCPs. The human ones.”

Anselman blinked, slow. He didn’t wear matching pajamas. His pajamas were plaid flannel bottoms, and a ‘where’s the beef?’ t-shirt. “I don’t hate them.”

“Of course you do. I saw the 2118 tapes, I saw how you put 3424 in a locker. Why would you do that if you didn’t hate them? Your pain—”

“My pain,” Anselman interrupted, smacking Lavoie in the chest with a Snickers, “is my pain alone. No one here knows—”

Lavoie barked a laugh. “Everyone here knows. Everyone here has felt your pain. It feels special to you, but it’s not special.”

Anselman wanted to yell, but he settled for flinging a candy bar at Lavoie and storming back to his room. He slammed the door and it didn’t reverberate, which he resented. If he had stayed, he would have seen Lavoie stare after him, head cocked to the side like a golden retriever, blond hair, watery eyes. He would have seen Lavoie eat the candy bar.

Two more weeks passed. They didn’t look at each other in the hallway anymore.

They didn’t see each other again, see each other, until they saw each other in the snack machine alcove, late at night. This time, Lavoie was getting something—a Nature’s Valley granola bar. The hard kind that turned to dust when you unwrapped it.

Anselman had seen the figure down the hallway, but when he saw who it was, he stopped short, snack token held tight in his sweating hand. Lavoie looked at him like a raccoon caught in a motion sensor light. They were both still, afraid to blink, like two cryptids catching sight of each other in the woods.

Slowly, like one backs away from a bear, Lavoie stood and smoothed down his matching sky blue pajamas. “I’m sorry.”

Anselman lowered his hands, straightened his spine, adjusted his unstylish glasses. “For what?”

“For what I said. I shouldn’t have belittled—”

“Not belittled.”

“Minimized. I shouldn’t have minimized your pain.”

That’s right, Anselman thought. You shouldn’t have. “Thank you.”

Lavoie nodded and stepped aside for Anselman to get his candy. Anselman approached, dropped his coin in the machine, perused the options. He was about to press a button when Lavoie said, “You lost your son.”

He said it softly. It was nearly gentle if it wasn’t so accurate. Anselman swallowed. “Yes. He was eight.”

“How long ago?”

“Seven years.”

“Were you married?”

The hum of the snack machine, the bright white lights. He jabbed at his selection. “Yes. She divorced me not long after. I threw myself into the Foundation.”

Lavoie laughed, but this one was hollow. “Like embracing the void.” He picked at his granola bar. “Where is she now?”

“Why do you care?” Anselman demanded. Lavoie shrugged. “Remarried. She has a new family. She seems happy, but I don’t know.” The Snickers bar dropped. “Now you.”

“Now me what?”

“Yours. Tell me yours.”

Lavoie hummed, picked at his granola bar. Fine blond hair brushed his forehead, and Anselman wanted to touch it. “There’s not too much to tell. My family died when I was nineteen. Mom, dad, brother and sister. Car accident, they were hit by a semi.” He shivered. His voice was soft and factual. “I was in school, six hundred miles away.”

Anselman placed a big, soft hand on Lavoie’s sky blue shoulder, and felt the thin man shudder. “It’s okay. It wasn’t your fault.”

“I wanted to….”

“I know. Me, too.”

Lavoie’s voice dropped to a whisper, and he said, lips barely moving so the cameras wouldn’t catch it, “I started working here because I loved it, the weird stuff, the wrong stuff—but when I met the humans they were all my sister, and they were all my brother. I can’t help but humanize them.”

The hairs on Anselman’s arms stood on end. “Don’t say that.”

“Don’t tell anyone I did.”

Anselman nodded, and pocketed his candy bar, and went back to his dorm without looking back.

They asked questions in the hallway, now. They crossed paths twice a day, once on the way to their assignments, and once on the way back. They each got one question a day.

Anselman asked, “Is that your actual hair color?”

And Lavoie smiled and said, “Yes.” And on the way back he asked, “Do you really need those glasses?”

“Yes. Why do your pajamas match?”

“I like the way they look, and how they feel. They’re very soft. What did your t-shirt mean?”

“Where’s the beef? Like Wendy’s? Come on, Lavoie. How do you stand those granola bars?”

“I crush them up and eat the bits out of the bag. Do you ever get cavities from that much candy?”

“No, I’ve got strong teeth. Worst I get is a headache. Who do you hang out with outside of here?”

“No one. My best friend is Dr. Wu, she’s in observation. Do you have any friends?”

“I have you, I think. Do you play any instruments?”

“A little cello. Do you play sports?”

“A little football. What’s your name?”

“Charles. What’s yours?”

“Peter. Nice to meet you, Charles.”

“Likewise, Peter.”

Another two weeks before they saw each other at night again. This time, Anselman swung his door open, snack token tight in his hand, and found Lavoie staring back at him, fist raised as if to knock. They stared at each other, watery blue, unstylish glasses. Bated breath.

Lavoie lowered his hand and raised the other one, proffering a Snickers bar. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“So you came to me?”

“Wu is in dormitory C. You’re closer.” He smiled, and Anselman realized while he had seen Lavoie laugh many times, he had never seen him smile. “Can I come in?”

“Yes, of course.” Anselman stepped aside, and he watched Lavoie walk into his room. He stared at him for a second, long legs, beautiful eyes, and then he closed the door. Lavoie’s hair stuck up at the back, and Anselman wanted to fix it. He wanted to touch it. He wanted to touch him.

Lavoie was looking at him, eyes shimmering with their constant moisture. They almost glowed in the dim light of the glow-in-the-dark stars Anselman had stuck to his ceiling. Lavoie blinked, and looked around. “Nice room. I like the stars.”

“Thanks.”

Lavoie poked at the desk chair, totally covered in dirty laundry. “No chairs.”

“Didn’t anticipate company,” Anselman replied, and he knew he sounded gruff, and he knew he sounded nervous. “You can sit on the bed.”

“Thanks.” Lavoie did, he moved to the bed and perched on the edge, looking at Anselman with an expression he couldn’t parse, like code, like anart. A self-contained anomaly. Anselman sat next to him, and their knees almost touched. Lavoie stared at them, at the knees that almost touched like parallel lines, and then he said, “I’m gay.”

Anselman jolted like he’d licked a lightbulb socket. “What?”

“I’m gay. I just…wanted you to know that. I thought it might be important.”

“Why?”

“Because—I don’t know. Because of what we’re almost doing.” Lavoie looked up into Anselman’s unstylish glasses. “What are we doing?”

“Talking, we’re…” Anselman swallowed. “I haven’t, in a while. Not since my wife left.”

“We’ve been flirting, right? In the hallways?”

“Some, I think.”

“Do you want to?”

Anselman’s heart was pounding and his throat was dry. Unthinkingly, he tore into the Snicker’s bar, cheeks burning. He wanted to touch Lavoie. “I think so.”

“If you don’t want to—”

“I want to.” He swallowed the bite of candy and set the rest, unwrapped, on his bedside table. “I want to, but it’s hard. Not because you’re a guy, but because—I’ve told you things I haven’t told anyone here, and I don’t know why. You’re pushy, and you’re honest, and I like your smile, and I haven’t kissed anyone in nearly ten years. It’s been a while. I don’t know how to do this anymore. I want to touch your hair.”

Lavoie wasn’t looking at him, he was looking at his bedside table. He wrinkled his nose at the chocolate. “That’s how you get ants.”

Anselman laughed, a real laugh, one from his chest, and Lavoie looked up at him with his watery blue eyes crinkled in a smile. Without pausing to let his brain come up with more excuses, Anselman pushed his big hands into Lavoie’s hair, letting them glide over the fine blond strands, and he kissed Lavoie. He kissed him and it tasted like granola, and chocolate, and it knocked his unstylish glasses askew. He kissed him and he felt safe. He kissed him and light began to bloom inside of them both like the light from the snack machine.

[rain-deer]

I choose both sets of questions!!!!!! >:D

*Shrug* doesn’t bother me amigo keeps me busy GODS: LifeZeus: What’s your name or nickname?•Destiny; DestHera: Where are you from?•AlabamaAthena: How old are you?•SeventeenHephaestus: When is your birthday?•August 30Aphrodite: What’s your relationship status?•Single Poseidon: What are your pronouns?•I am grillDionysus: Are you and extrovert or an introvert?•Heckin introvert Demeter: Do you have any pets?•Two kitties!! Patches and Marzipan Apollo: What kind of music are you into?•Uh really anything. I’m into some rap currently. Artemis: What do you first notice about new people?•FRECKLES or eyes. Hades: What’s a big fear of yours? •Abandonment, dying. Ares: What’s a big pet peeve of yours?•People who show too much public affection. Hestia: Where do you consider home? •When I’m with my friends CREATURES: LastsPegasus: Last movie you watched? •In theatres; I went on a double date with Dylan to watch IT. At home; Twilight Mermaid: Last tv show you finished?•RiverdaleCentaur: Last book you read?•Uhhhh The Shack Siren: Last song you listened to?•I’m Sorry by Joyner Lucas Gorgon: Last thing you ate?•Mashed Potato’s ugh I love them so much Cyclops: Last time you cried?•When Asher’s mom heckin texted me lmfao. Like two Sunday’s age. Minotaur: Last time you were truly happy?•Saturday was pretty amazing because we got all ones and best in classSphynx: Last text you sent?•Please I need it (okay context we’re talking about chocolate and coconut I neeD IT) Chimera: Last call you made?•Hmmmmmm. Eric or Dylan. Griffin: Last thing you did before going to sleep last night?•Told Allen goodddnighttttNymph: Last dream you remember?•Just a nightmare abt a wreck. Satyr: Last time you couldn’t stop laughing?•SATURDAY HEROES: ExperiencesHeracles: Have you ever had a dream come true? •Nah. Just deja vuTheseus: What is your worst regret?•So far? Not offing myself. Perseus: Have you ever been arrested? •NahhhhhCadmus: Have you ever had your heart broken?•Yep but then again who hasn’t. Achilles: Have you ever had to be hospitalized? •I guess yeah Actaeon: Tell about a memory you wish to forget.•Certain interactions with people Bellerophon: Have you ever passed out? •Too many times Agamemnon: What is an achievement you’re proud of?•Uh I don’t really know Oedipus: Have you ever been in love?•Of course my man Jason: Have you ever travelled abroad? Where?•Nah I’m poor Atlanta: Have you ever stood up for someone else?•I mean I do in band but that is like the only place I’m confident Hippolytus: Tell an experience you will never forget.•Hmhmhmhm. Thursday night. Very scary. MAGICAL ITEMS: Favorites Trident: Who are your favorite people?•Kristen, Franky, Allen and Jaden. I’m a lot closer to Allen and Jaden now, we all have a bond,,,Lightning Bolt: What are your top three favorite movies?•Hm. Sun Chariot: What is your favorite mythological creature?•I love elves and gryphons Lyre: What are your top three favorite songs?•1-800-273-8255 by Logic, Young, Dumb, and Broke by Khalid, Exception by Token. Caduceus: What is your favorite color?•Beige! Aegis: What is your favorite book or series? •AshfalllllllllScythe: What is your favorite tv show?•Stranger Things Or Riverdale Bident: What is your favorite way to spend free time?•Naps, readying, or art. Harpe: What are your top 3 favorite places?•The mountain, the band room, or the library Cornucopia: What is your favorite place to eat?•I like McDonalds when I have friends Winged Sandals: What is your favorite thing to do when you hangout with your friends?•Literally Just y’all and listen to music Golden Fleece: What is your favorite animal? •Cats or leopards PLACES: Goals and WishesOlympus: Describe your dream job.•Something where I’m happyTartarus: What’s a short term goal you hope to achieve? •Start turning all my work in for school ha Underworld: Describe your dream vacation.•With someone I love. Styx: How would you like your life to look like in 10 years?•Uh. Maybe married. Done with College. Happy. Athuna: If you could live anywhere in the world for the rest of your life, where would it be?•Canada! Sparta: Do you have a bucket list? If so, what’s on it?•Skydiving, and flying in a plane Elysium: If you could have a superpower, what would it be?•Healing powers or talk to animals. Ogygia: Describe your dream husband/wife/life partner?•hA. Just love me please. Troja: What is the craziest thing you wanna do before you die?•Skydive The Labyrinth: Have you ever died and came back to life as a vampire? •What the hell kinda question is this Delphi: Are you currently doing anything to pursue your dreams?•Applying to collegesssssAUTUMN ASKS lantern - how did you meet your best friend? What were your first impressions of each other?•Well. Kristen and I hated each other in sixth grade. Allen I hated. Jaden I hated lol. Dylan, I was intimidated by him and he thought I was weird. I was infatuated with Eric and he though I was just. Keith’s little sister lol. frost - if you could give some advice to your younger self, what would you say?•Don’t dwell on the past. maple - is there a hobby / skill that you’ve always wanted to try but never did?•Sculpting. harvest - what fictional character do you most identify with? Why?•Uh. Someone with really bad luck. fireside - if you had your dream wardrobe, what would it look like?•Walk in. That’s about it. Really neat and tidy inside cider - a food that you disliked as a child but now enjoy? •I hated asparagusssssamber - share an unpopular opinion that you may have.•I wouldn’t smash Pennywise,,,fog - how well do you think you’d do in a zombie apocalypse scenario?•Okay so I learned I’ve got heckin great survival instincts. I take charge. I’d do okay honestly. jack-o-lantern - if you could look like any celebrity, who would you choose?•Lady Gagaspice - have you ever encountered a house that you believed to be haunted?•M I N E orchard - share one thing that you’d like to happen this autumn.•Oh my goodness I was it to get actually coldddddcrow - which school subject do you wish you had an aptitude for?•SCIENCE bonfire - describe your dream house.•I want a small apartment with someone I love ha cinnamon - if you had to live in a time period different than the present, which would you choose and where?•Nineties. cobweb - (if you’ve graduated) do you miss high school?•I am graduating this year. I’m excited. cranberry - what’s one physical feature that you get complimented on?•My eyes or freckles. maize - share the weirdest encounter you’ve had with a stranger on the street.•This guy complimented my necklace. I though he was complimenting my cleavage so I was very aghast. quilt - how do you take your tea (or coffee)?•Coffee is usually cold. I get sick if it’s hot. pumpkin - do you think that humans are inherently good or bad?•Bad. We destroy everYTHING moonlit - are you a neat or messy person? Is your room / house orderly?•I’m messy lmfao flannel - have you ever gone on a bad date? •Uhhhhhhh Yes. I’m awkward. cocoa - if you could have any type of hair, what colour and cut would you have?•Mermaid cut with platinum hair. ghost - is there someone that you miss having in your life?•Definitely but I’m better without them

[mymagicalstudy]

OK! time to pick the winners from my giveaway thing!!!

I’ve chosen the stories I enjoyed reading the most, and will message those people privately. If you don't have messenger enabled, make sure you open it up.

I wish i could send you all things, but postage is expensive :’(

Got some awesome stories from everyone who entered, so i thought i’d post all the entries below the line.

@the-tarot-boii​ : “One night, after reading my book, La Santa Muerte by Tomas Prower, La Flaca herself spoke to me. I was doing an automatic writing (as instructed in the book), and she said something to the air of, “My child seeks wisdom”. I have a feeling she was speaking to me because, at the time, i was reading up on the Western Mystery Tradition and the Qabalah”

@sparklesbrightly : “It was Samhain about 5 years ago, and it was the autumn of my maiden years. Both myself and my current partner had just recently eloped. So much in our lives was uncertain, as if a volume had completed itself that summer, so many loose ends were waiting to be tied that evening. We were staying in a simply radiant Victorian bed and breakfast,and our plans were rather loose. We set about putting together costumes that suited our moods, and painting our faces for the occasion. We brought with us many tokens that represented those thing we meant to let go, among them were seven garnets in the shape of pomegranate seeds. We walked down the street without plan or direction, the fog growing thick, as we went along folks became scarce and avoided us when they were about. The silence was so deep and nearly as thick as the fog, strange to hear in a large city. We made our way to the center of a wooded park that we found, and made our ritual there. I have never felt so far beyond this realm as I did that night. We buried our tokens, and left that place. There were some swings where we sat for a while watching some lanterns float into the air from a nearby yard, more messages for the dead, from other people. When we returned to our room we slept hard, the morning broke with bright light broken into rainbows through the cut crystal windows, and I never felt so rejuvenated and free as I did that morning. It was a very lovely goodbye.”

@transboystrength : “One night this past winter some friends & I went out to a popular smoking spot at our college to participate in the cursing trump thing. The spot is called bamboo fortress, because its in the middle of a huge swath of bamboo & people built up a treehouse & fence there. I was leading the ceremony & had picked bamboo fortress bc bamboo is protective. four of us went, but we were half expecting more to join us. We got about halfway through the ceremony when we heard someone approaching. We didnt think anything of it, until we noticed that the footsteps had begun circling the fortress. It made a full, slow circumference until it left the way it came. We worked through the curse till the end, but we were all clearly pretty spooked. We walked back to the dorm in silence. I was only a freshman so I didnt know much of the local lore, but apparently wendigos are known to sometimes appear in the local woods, and two in our group had heard them calling while camping in the winter. Thank god we were as thoroughly protected & armed as we were else we may never have left bamboo except in body bags.”

@recolligio : “I lean hermetic, but have been striving to center my practice on the familiar base of my Christian upbringing, although my own perspective is of course a bit unorthodox.I had been seeking to do some elemental balancing work, but wasn’t sure where to start; so I turned to St. Raphael as associated with Air and healing.It turns out he’s also associated with “happy meetings,” and the first prayer to him I came across was in this light.  It seemed warm and positive, so I made​ my introduction this way.And for weeks I couldn’t step out the door without having some kind of noteworthy and pleasant interaction. I ran into all kinds of neighbors, the dog made friends with people on almost every walk, and I had a handful of genuinely strange run-ins too - meetings with very useful or heartwarming outcomes that depended on schedules intersecting in unlikely ways. (e.g. running into a visitor from out of state during the 30s we happened to be in the same parking lot).It went from astonishing to charming to genuinely eerie before it started to taper off.I am very grateful though, for those opportunities. It reminded me how many there really are, on any ordinary day.”

@fluoritechild : “Withcraft has followed me all my life, even before I knew it. In my childhood my friend would bring me pendulums to play with, we would look up mantras to say to feel better, and make up spells for all sorts of things like getting boys to like us and getting good grades. It’s safe to say that I have always had a fascination with it, but there are two big milestones that I remember which set me off on the path I am currently on.The first was in middle school when my friends and I thought the locker rooms and the hallway outside it were haunted. We spent a week researching ouija boards and how to safely use them, and we made our own and put protective symbols on the back. We brought candles from home and borrowed a lighter from one of the cool kids who were already smoking, and during lunch we went down there and talked to the spirits who live there. We were right. It was haunted. The whole time there were banging on the door from the girl’s room. It was a great experience.The other milestone is when I got my first tarot deck. Two of my friends had already started to dive into the occult, and they brought me to an alternative convention where we spent the whole day attending lectures and buying readings from professionals. At the end of the day I passed by a stand that sold tarot and oracle cards. My friend explained the difference to me, and I decided to get a tarot deck. The choice was difficult, the seller had many to choose from, but eventually they showed me The Mystic Faerie Tarot. It was the last copy they had, and the moment I touched it I was filled with this overwhelming, warm energy. It was meant to be. To this day I always look for this feeling when choosing a new tarot deck. All my life my occult experiences have been the result of following someone else, until about a year ago when I decided to truly dive into it and research it on my own. It is a whole other world which has opened up to me, and the more I learn the more questions I have. I love this lifestyle that I am trying to make for myself, and I am never turning back.”

@notjustanyannie : “One time, I was at an overnight party at my friends house out in the country.  They let me sleep in a guest bedroom.  I awoke suddenly in the middle of the night, sure that someone was watching me.  I rolled over and saw a boy, about 10 yo, standing beside the bed.  He had brown hair and was wearing jeans with a flannel shirt.  He was looking right at me, like he wanted to ask me something.  I reached over and turned on the lamp, but he was no longer there.  I eventually went back to sleep.   When I woke up the next day, I told the host what I’d seen.  His eyes got really big, and he told me to go tell his wife, G.  As I started telling her, she got excited and started to describe the boy along with me, even down to the outfit.  Then she told me that she had been seeing him in her dreams for the past two weeks.  In her dreams, there were these 2 or 3 people or entities that were trying to take the boy somewhere.  She got a really bad vibe from them.  He did not want to go with them, and had asked her for help.  She was having these intense physical and spiritual battles with these dream entities, and waking up with actual injuries.  She and her husband both told stories of terrible battles that she finally awoke from, battered and exhausted.  She was really concerned for the boy, and afraid of what might happen if she couldn’t help him get away.  After we talked, I went home to rest.  I napped for a couple of hours, to recover from the overnight party.   Later that same day, my two housemates told me that strange things had started happening in our house that day.  Little ‘poltergeist’ things, like items being moved around or doors opening and closing.  Then, over the next few days,  I also started seeing lots of little things, including cabinet doors opening and closing behind your back in the kitchen, things like that.  Nothing scary to us, it never felt threatening in any way.  A few days later, I was talking with my female housemate and I told her about seeing the ghost boy, and about G’s dreams.  She asked if I thought that the boy might be related to our new 'ghost visitor?’  I decided to call G and see what she thought. When I contacted G, she said she had not seen the boy, nor had any dreams since I had been there. We decided the boy had somehow hitched a ride home with me.   We all thought this was where the story ended, but many months later, I found out it had another chapter! We had to move not long after this, for completely unrelated reasons. While our landlord was showing the place, D & C, a couple I sorta knew (through other friends), came and looked at the place.  They ended up moving in after we left.  We never got a chance to talk to them before they moved in, and didn’t tell them about our ghost friend.   Almost a year later, I was at another friends house and ran into D.  I asked him how it was going, living at the house.  His eyes got big, and he told me about their experiences in the house after we left.   He told me that he and C had the same type of little things happen that we did, things getting moved around, doors opening & closing, nothing big. But they had another housemate, and he had terrible battles with a spirit presence or something.  It apparently was really focusing on him, and making his life miserable.  He was really struggling to keep it together, until finally he asked them to call in an exorcist!  He felt like his life was in danger. They had an exorcist come out, and she did a house reading.  She said that the room he was sleeping in (one we hadn’t used), had an open passageway to the really old pioneer cemetery just over the next hill, and spirits could easily pass through.  She called it “a spirit superhighway”! She did a banishing and then a closing ceremony, and sealed off the portal.  They (D & C) didn’t have any more problems there afterwards, but their housemate moved out anyway.   So that’s how it ended, as far as I know… “

@newenglandyankee : “Reached enlightenment by age 19 from constant meditation through a journey into myself, there was a flushing sensation where the third eye is and white light. From there I unlocked new conscious levels, lucid dreaming and astral body, amongst other things.”

@dr-gene-ray: “I could talk about the manifestation of The Tower between hod and netzach & my enriching Enochian experiences but I feel those are too idiosyncratic and emotional to interest anyone but me. So other than the amazing personal growth, one of my coolest occult happenings is: I once (accidentally) caused a mans death. I don’t necessarily feel guilty but I do now see the importance of clearly defined boundaries while working the lemegeton hahah”