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evolnoomym · 3 months ago

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2. Million Dollar Man

Sugar-Daddy!Joel Miller x f!OC

General Masterlist | “Runaway Butterfly 🦋” Masterlist | Support me |

Summary: A look at your daily routine, a little friend gets introduced, 1st Date jitters and Joel Miller enters the game.

Rating: 18+ explicit content mdni!!!!

Word count: 3.5 k

Warnings: no y/n, f!reader, working out, pills (Silica), mentions of eating, struggles to eat in front of others, shaving, allusions to sa, Mommy issues, panic attack, alcohol consumption, weed consumption, flirting, bantering, Moon is not a blank slate (sorry)

If I missed anything please let me know 🙏🏻

Authors note: Here we go Chapter 2 for y’all, I hope you enjoy 🩵

Shoutout to @saradika-graphics & @cafekitsune for the dividers 🫶🏻

Big thank you to @lady-bess for beta reading 🫂🌙

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so if you come across mistakes it might be due to that. I’m totally here for constructive criticism or feedback on how to improve. In general I appreciate comments, likes and reblogs greatly 👌🏻

It was a normal day for you just the same as always. Waking up at around 9 am, you continue to roll around for another hour slowly getting more acclimated with being up, until you decide it’s time. Sitting on the edge for a moment you roll your shoulders and lightly stretch that aching back of yours, the most will be dealt with later.

The first thing after swapping your sleeping gown with a black cotton camisole and some black cozy shorts, is to make your bed. It's a routine, almost always exactly the same as a way to feel secure, it brings you comfort. You start by shaking out the three blankets, two regular sized and one large blanket. One after another, followed by all your pillows, which at this point must be in the double digits region. You like to practically swaddle yourself. Next you meticulously put the pillows at their designated places and after folding the blankets those get the same treatment. One final sweep of your hand to even out some creases and it’s on to the next step.

Every night before going to sleep you prepare a tall glass of water alongside two Silica supplement pills on your dresser across from your bed, downing them is the next step of the routine. Afterwards it’s time for some plant caretaking which consists of checking if any of your baby’s produced a new leaf or need some water. Since you spent the entirety of yesterday, from morning to evening watering all of them, they are in perfectly healthy condition.

Though your most treasured plant, the monstera deliciosa, gets a little extra attention, you take her out onto the tiny balcony attached to the bedroom and generously spray each leaf with water. Maybe it does nothing but you’d like to believe that the effort is appreciated and repaid by continually birthing bigger and bigger sliced leafs. She gets to soak up the water, enjoy the fresh air as you leave the door open to also get some air flowing throughout the room and once the bedroom opens the rest of the tiny apartment.

You slip on your black loafers, take the empty glass, your iPhone and go to the kitchen which is situated outside your bedroom on the left. You have one of those pearl curtains attached to the wood panel above the walkthrough. It's oldschool and sometimes a little inconvenient but you like the beautiful blue colors it adds. You reach up into the cupboard for a shot glass which gets filled with a horrific tasting immune shot, a concoction of turmeric, ginger, lemon, orange and apple juice - burns like hell on the way down but at least it’s supposed to be good for you.

You down another glass of water immediately after which soothes your esophagus, it washes away any bitter taste left and when you brush your teeth the overpowering minty taste does the rest.

Karl Jr. -your beautiful black fur baby- would then get his breakfast served. Followed by some more morning stretches as well as a watered down version of your usual evening workout routine to help your back pain be less severe. Once your done it’s quite calming to just sit on the rolled out yoga mat placed in front of the open balcony door, you enjoy to feel the breeze passing over your face along with the early morning sun rays, it’s peaceful.

If it would be just an ordinary day you would now sit at the tiny desk in your living room with your grinder and long papers, preparing a morning j, which after smoking would be followed by breakfast.

But today is different. You have a “Date”. Well it might not be the right word to describe the occasion but a business meeting sounds too formal for a walk through the nearby park.

“Joel Miller wants to meet you”, that’s what the message read that was atomically sent by the Sugar-Daddy website and after some rather tame exchange of words with him it was decided to meet up in person. He suggested a restaurant but you declined that offer quickly, eating in front of him and most of all eating with so many people surrounding you, watching you, judging you? No that would be uncomfortable, so you pitched the idea of walking through the park just a short 15 min walk from your apartment. The two of you decided to meet at 3 pm, at the entrance of the park and go from there.

Through some weird intuition you luckily had taken a “everything” shower yesterday, before going to bed. You spend 2 hours scrubbing every nook and cranny on your body, shaving your legs and armpits. It was just a meet up so there was no reason to go crazy on your downstairs area, you didn’t plan on taking him home. Besides you were never one for taking the other person to bed on the first meeting, not that you didn’t try, you did. Seeing everyone around you having those casual encounters with no trouble, made you think you had to do the same and be like them. To feel like you fit in that’s what you tried, but it never went past some awkward kisses, they would try for more which you always brushed off as it just didn’t feel right and that’s where it would end.

You wondered why casual hookups never worked out until one day you did. Dating became less important after those discoveries, you could not open up that way anymore, it always felt like playing a character, pretending to be something you’re not.

A facade can only be kept for so long until it all falls apart or they discover the truth and they always do. The last date you went on was almost 2 years ago and the last time you had sex was at 17 which was losing your virginity to him. Now looking back it makes sense why you couldn’t be like the others.

Even in the 8 months of living here you did not make moves to really meet anyone on a romantic or platonic level. Well except Theresa your neighbor, she’s the only friend you made since moving here. She is 34 years old, single -which you don’t understand as she’s very gorgeous- and has two cats.Theresa takes care of you in the form of making sure you get up, eat and don’t succumb to the pressure in your mind. Almost like a Mother would.

Sitting at your make up table you decided on a simple makeup look, just a bit concealer, blush, bronzer, mascara and peach gloss. Of course you also wear your favorite jewelry set containing moon shaped earrings and a necklace with a moon pendant. Gifted by Theresa after she learned of your fondness for the moon and the story surrounding your name.

Next up was the outfit, which again, was not anything special. A black tank top, flowy black pants and well worn black converse. Before leaving you put on your vanilla perfume and mango scented body spray.

After locking your own door you stop at Theresa‘s apartment door, raise your right hand, knock and wait. She opens up appearing to have just woken up.

“Do I look okay?”

You do a twirl on wobbly knees.

“You look more than okay sweetheart,” she gives you one of her rare soft smiles “I know you’re nervous but you got this,yeah?”

“I got this,” deep breath in and out “I’m okay and I got this.” You reaffirm.

“Atta girl, if he does anything weird I’ll come get you and rip his balls off.” She’s joking but you know she would do it for you.

“I’m sure one day you’ll get the chance to live out this little dreams of yours, but this guy actually seems nice.”

You quickly glance down at your phone, realizing you have to get going you say goodbye to Theresa.

“Shit, I gotta go or else I’ll be late. I’ll talk to you later okay?”

“Of ‘course go get him kiddo, you better tell me everything later. Be careful, yeah?”

As you are already almost halfway down the stairs you exclaim a loud affirmative yes.

Off you go.

The park is unusually crowded for a Sunday afternoon. A bunch of kids are loudly playing on the playground near by and there’s a baby crying in its stroller alongside the mother trying to quickly soothe her baby. People are walking by having their own conversations. You can hear cars driving around and occasionally a honk. It’s overwhelming, so many things happening at once and you’re immediately reminded of why you avoid going outside.

Today however all these people are also a protection shield in case something goes wrong. You’re more careful these days than back then, you learned from what happened.

To say you’re nervous would be an understatement,no, not even smoking before leaving helped to calm you down. These tricks may have helped you then but now it’s a different story.

You remember that day years ago vividly, it was supposed to be the second date with the significantly older police apprentice which inevitably would also be the last time seeing him. The plan beforehand was to meet friends at the park, there you would hang out, smoke weed and drink cherry liqueur to make yourself more pliant before getting picked up by that man. It was so stupid, he drove so far away to a lake and by the time you got there it was already dark. So much could’ve happened. He set up a Picnic, with strawberries and a whole bottle of wine for you to finish on your own, which you did. Back then you fortunately still had your luck, nothing bad happened and he just drove you back home after not getting into your pants.

Sitting on this bench now feels just like 6 years ago. Even though now it might be worse you’re shaking and the air leaves you in panicked little huffs. The ringing in your ears gets steadily louder, black spots are clouding your vision and the pressure forces you to close your eyes. That’s when you hear it, a voice, a deep octave fighting its way through the ringing.

“S’cuse me, Hello Darlin’ I thin…-“ he doesn’t even get to finish his sentence before you immediately shoot up from the bench coming to a halt right before him. That spurt of energy however didn’t last long, almost immediately you feel your legs giving out and you would’ve collapsed weren’t it for those big strong hands gripping your shoulders to keep you from falling.

“Woahh hold ‘ya horses darlin easy, breathe ‘kay, in an out…can you do tha’ for me?” his voice makes you open your eyes to see nothing but a very nice lookin yellow Lakers shirt. You couldn’t lift your head up just yet. Instead you wanted to try to make this less embarrassing “I-I…I’m okay, ughh” a wheezing sound left you, breathing so much after basically slowly suffocating was a bit derailing. You wanted to open your mouth again to say something but he cut you off “No, Shhh, just breathe don’t worry but anythin’ right now.”

And that you did, after approximately 5 minutes which felt like lifetime you felt good enough to finally look at him. Now you felt breathless for an entirely different reason, that being the tall Texas glass of water right in front of you. His hair was nicely combed back, he wore thick black glasses, a gorgeous smile peeking at you from under his mustache and the best thing, his hands were still on your shoulders even though his grip got softer.

After looking him up and down you just stared at his face and probably looked like a fish out of water with your gasping at a rapid speed. The whole situation caught up with you, making you take a step back. His hands slide down your arms till he no longer touches you. Shanking your head you started to apologize “I’m so sorry, this so embarrassing..-fuck I’m really sorry you had to witness this.”

He just looks at you like you said something ridiculous “Darlin’ you don’t need to apologize for havin a panic attack or anythin. Alright?”

“Yeah you’re right, thank you, for helping with the breathing and stuff.” You nod

“Don’t mention it, you wanna sit down again or-?”

“No need to sit down again, moving around is probably the best, there’s a pond just a short walk from here. It’s a little more secluded,” you look around “, than here.”

He nods “You lead the way M’lady,” giving you a cheeky smile.

“Keep up Mr.Miller,” you retort and swivel past him with a cheeky smile of your own.

It was a quick 5 minute walk, which was spent in comfortable silence, allowing you to recover from the panic attack. Luckily your favorite spot is free, a wooden bench placed only a few feet away from a cute little pond surrounded by trees and lushes green bushes.

“There we go, please have a seat,” you motion for him to sit down.

You can’t help but watch him get comfortable and spread his meaty thighs. It’s an invitation for your gaze to go directly to his crotch. Images of what a guy like him must be packing flood your brain, most of all what he could do with that.

“Darlin’ did ya not learn that staring is impolite,” that certainly snaps you back into reality quickly, eyes going back to his face. You can feel your cheeks get warm at being caught, you surely must be looking like a tomato.

You sit down next to him and start to apologize “I..I am so so..sorry,” you don’t even dare to look at him.

“Hey sweetheart,” two of his thick fingers tip your chin up “look at me, s’ all good okay?” the look in his eyes is expecting. “Yes it’s all okay,” you nod and his expression turns into a pleased smile.

“That’s a good girl,” those specific words, in that deep molasses tone momentarily stun you. Is he doing this on purpose or is it just who he is?

His deep chuckle let’s you know that he’s well aware of the effect those words have on you. Cheeky.

The short silence is broken by you first.

“Sooo, have you done this before?” What a stupid question, he most likely has done this before, he’s gorgeous, who wouldn’t want him as their Sugar-Daddy ?

“Yes, I have done this before, have you?”

Now this makes you let out a genuine laugh.

“What’s so funny sweet girl, huh?” He inquires.

“Look at me, do I seem like the kinda girl that catches the attention of a Sugar-Daddy?” Pointing at yourself, completely ignoring what he just called you.

“You got my attention, don’t ya?” The smile he gives you makes you realize that this is one of the most beautiful things you’ve ever seen and those cute dimples will never leave your mind. “Also let’s not kid ourselves you're breathtaking, pretty girl.” The final nail in your coffin is the wink he sends you.

For a moment you just stare at him.

“Anyway,” you have to look away from his smug face towards the pond to hide your reaction, you try hard to contain your blush “i have never done this before. Though I have thought about trying this.”

He appears to process that answer.

“What’dya want out of this arrangement?”

A good question, but calling this an arrangement sounds so clinical and cold. Shouldn’t it be more than that? Isn’t your body part of this deal?

“Best case scenario I get a genuine connection out of it, someone to call home, to rely on, something real you know?” He nods in understanding.

“Obviously the money is an aspect too, it’s security, it means not having to worry about making ends meet and just living carefree.”

A shaky breath leaves you after dumping everything on him.

He scratches his scruffy jaw looking deep in thought “What would that carefree life look like?”

You know exactly how to answer, maybe you shouldn’t be so honest but you feel like that will get you plus points. Besides you got not much to lose.

“I’d like to travel, see a bit of the world, take photos of all the majestic sights I’ll come across. Live in a secluded house, close to the nature. I’d wake up paint, take care of my plants, try out delicious recipes and I’d be happy.” It might sound simple to him but that’s all you’d need. A safe warm home.

“I can make that happen for ya sweetheart,” he sounds serious, too serious and you don’t want to get your hope’s up, so you switch the topic.

“Why didn’t it work out with the previous two women?” You interested why neither worked out, how could you fumble a man like Joel.

“The expectations in the arrangement didn’t align, they wanted a quick dime, not really interested in interpersonal relations and I got bored.” He says it with such a nonchalance.

“Where they my age?”

“No, they were both older than you,” you are not sure how to feel about that answer, is it better or is it worse?

“Why don’t you just try normal dating, you’re clearly attractive so it shouldn’t be hard, right?” He could have anyone in the world, yet he sits here on this old bench with you.

“ ‘s harder than it might seem darlin’, the company keeps me busy, the people I interact with most are business acquaintances and that’s not a good mix.” Yeah don’t mix business with pleasure, but isn’t that what you two will do?

“What do you expect of me, what do i have to do to make this work. I..I mean in case you want me,” the nervous stuttering will definitely be something you’ll think about for the next couple days. Why must you sound so desperate for anything?

You’re relieved that he doesn’t acknowledges your nervous word salad.

“ ‘s not a whole lot I expect, but I need flexibility” your eyebrows shoot up “not that kind of, time-wise I need ya to be…bendable,” he can’t help but laugh now “ I’m not making it any better am i?”

“No you’re not, but that’s fine i know what you are trying to say”

“Could you live with that, sometimes there’s gonna be a short notice to go somewhere which might mean flying and I want ya with me,” He explains the conditions.

“I could, it’s okay” you nod confidently “do you also want me to play your eye-candy at those fancy functions rich people have?” Again honest curiosity, you’ve never done this before.

He shakes his head “I don’t want ya to play eye-candy, you would be my partner and my equal.” His goddamn smile will be your downfall. You are about to open your mouth when a loud ring cuts you off, it’s not your phone, it’s his.

He looks apologetic and mouths a “sorry” before picking up the call.

You only get bits and pieces.

“Yes - Tommy ya know I’m busy - hmm - seriously how could that happen - yeah I’m on my way.” His voice took on an angry tone and his smile disappeared.

After hanging up he closes his eyes, squeezes the bridge of his strong nose in annoyance and takes one deep breath.

“Everything alright?” You softly ask.

“Yeah, no,” he opens his eyes and the tense expression switches to an apologetic one “something at our current construction site must’ve gone absolutely wrong and I need to fix it.” He sighs loudly.

“I’m sorry darlin’, this is why I need ya to be -“

“Flexible,” you finish for him and he nods.

“I’m real sorry that our conversation gets cut short,” he leans in and his hand lands just above your knee squeezing lightly “I’d like to continue this “getting to know each other” perhaps when ya visit my office, then you see me looking more professional.” Adding another wink to finish off.

“I’d like that too, Mr. Miller.” You note how his pupils dilate when you call him by that name, already loving the effect you have on him.

When the two of you get up, you immediately start to miss his hand on your leg, but as you walk to the entrance of the park he places said hand on your lower back, to guide you.

“Well here we are, I had a -” he speaks up first but gets cut off yet again by a loud honking.

The source is a black Mercedes Benz.

“Uh, that’s my driver,” he pulls you in for a hug and a quick peg on the cheek “listen I had a great time and can’t wait to see ya again. Please text me when ya get home, okay?”

When he pulls away you nod “I will,” you almost promise and off he goes. Quick strides towards the car, slipping in and taking off with squealing tires that make you think it might be more serious than he let on.

Your phone chiming takes you out of your stupor, a message from Joel, something sweet yet simple.

J: Get home safely, Moon Girl ;)

©️ evolnoomym 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

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kayleighthekoala · 11 months ago

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Continuing the post of the mods about to get added on qsmp!

4) LET'S DO: VINERY

(this one I am actually not sure about but I did see the cupboards matching the images in the pictures of this mod. But this mod is super cool and adds as name suggests wines, the wine press, a chapel, and a bunch of cool stuff! Aypieree wanted this one! It adds a new unique Armor set, a new wood and decorative blocks)

5) FAIRY LIGHTS MOD

(Finally!!!!!!! *Insert that etoiles clip* Waited so long for this one. It's so pretty. Can't wait to see how this will be used in builds. Ik baghera is gonna love it. Plus our little eggos like lulah, Em and Pomme who are all great interior designers are gonna use it in their own creative ways too!

6) CLUTTERED MOD

(I saw someone spotted this one in the posters and i have literally become a fan of this mod. It's so flipping awesome and adds so much furniture! I literally can't wait for this one. Just look at the pictures. Think about it this mod is literally the best for interior decorations. I couldn't include all images sadly of this mod but this mod is probably the one I am most excited about)

Just thinking about the upcoming birthday parties. Plus potential date *looks at teaduo* with these mods it's gonna look so amazing. Plus upcoming events or tazercraft builds!

#qsmp #teaduo #qsmp aypierre #qsmp tazercraft #qsmp french #qsmp empanada #qsmp pomme #qsmp baghera

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kelcemenow · 6 months ago

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Return To Sender - Chapter 1.

Pairing Travis Kelce x Reader

Words 1011

Warnings Nothing at all, just setting the scene for another fic that was supposed to be a short one-shot but has developed into a series. Typical me!

CHAPTER 1

The sunlight warmed your skin as you waited for your coffee to brew, the sharp scent filling your nostrils. It was a beautiful summer's morning and the view from your kitchen window provided a relaxing and quiet suburban backdrop.

As the coffee machine loudly clicked, you pushed yourself away from the countertop that you were leaning against and opened the cupboard above your head, selecting a large mug to hold the substantial amount of liquid caffeine that you so desperately required. As the steam began to drift from the mug, your focus shifted to a figure emerging from the house opposite. You had only recently moved into your house and due to the seemingly endless amount of unpacking you had been doing, you had rarely seen any of your neighbours. The man was dressed casually, but not in a lazy way. His hair was perfectly groomed, along with his facial hair and you noticed his designer trainers.

Your hand rested on the countertop as you zoned out, staring at the stranger out of the window. He walked leisurely out onto his front lawn and stretched his arms above his head. After glancing further up the street, he headed for his mail box, fishing a handful of letters from it and leafing through them and he strolled back towards his front door. You noticed him stop for a second before turning back on his heels. Your eyes seemed to glaze over as you watched him, your tiredness aiding in your trance.

Just as you were taking notice of his neatly trimmed stubble, you realised that he was coming straight towards your house. He confidently strode across the road and grabbed the handle of your mail box, leaving a few letters inside. His head raised slightly and your eyes met for just a second. You smiled meekly, uncomfortable that he may have noticed your staring but he just raised his eyebrows slightly and turned back.

You felt your cheeks flush as you turned around, holding the mug higher up towards your face in a subconscious attempt to hide your embarrassment. After a moment, you glanced around your shoulder to see the handsome stranger looking back towards you again.

Your chest tightened quickly and without thinking, you ducked your head away from the window.

"What am I doing?" You thought to yourself. Shaking your head, you headed for the kitchen door, sipping your coffee on your way out.

______________________________________________________________

You ran your hands through your hair as your elbow rested firmly on the vast wooden desk in front of you. Your head lowered and Reggie, your 1 year old Vizsla, looked up at you from his bed that was underneath your desk.

With a sigh, you reached down at stroke behind his ear, "Come on then, big guy. Let's get some fresh air."

Reggie jumped up from his resting position and bounded over towards the front door. The late afternoon light peeked through the windows and as you opened the door, he immediately ran onto the grass with his nose to the ground, desperate to catch onto the scent of something interesting. You smiled from the porch, watching him becoming familiar with his surroundings. As you looked around the front of the house, noticing some areas of the wood that needed repainting, the sound of a car engine close by caught your attention. An impressively large truck pulled into the driveway across from you and the handsome stranger from that morning climbed out from the drivers seat, grabbing a bag before closing the door behind him. The sharp sound was loud enough to pique Reggie's interest and as you took a step towards him, his ears raised slightly and his attention was fixed on the man across the road.

"Reggie." You warned in a low voice.

His body was still for a moment before he leapt into action, sprinting towards your new neighbour with no care for the possibility of passing cars.

"Reggie!" You called out, with seemingly no effect.

The stranger looked towards you before noticing the ginger animal racing for him. His eyes creased into a smile and he crouched down to welcome him, his arms outstretched. Your heart warmed for a moment at his positive reaction.

"Hey, buddy!" The man said, his voice loud and bright.

You sighed a little with relief as you rushed over, checking the road quickly before crossing onto the opposite side.

Reggie was lapping up the strangers attention happily as you approached them, "I'm so sorry." You said, slightly breathlessly.

"Don't sweat it, it's all good." He said, his focus on Reggie, "I love dogs, man. He's welcome to come over for a pet any time!"

You grinned as you watched, "I just moved here so he still doesn't really know the area. You never know, right?"

The man looked up to you and rose to his feet, a gentle shine in his eyes, "It's pretty quiet here, that's why I like it."

"Yeah, it's why I bought the place." You glanced over your shoulder to your modest but beautiful new house.

"It's nice. I didn't really know the people who lived there before, I figured they travelled a lot...it always seemed like no one was in." He looked back to you, a slight blush on his cheeks, "Are you all unpacked then?"

"Yeah, there's still a few boxes here and there, but I'm mostly all moved in." You looked down to Reggie who was sitting patiently.

The man nodded his head as he leaned down to grab the red gym bag that was on the floor next to his feet, "Awesome. Well, if you need anything, I'm just across the way."

You smiled, "Thank you. I'll see you." You whistled gently for Reggie, who came to your side as you headed back to your house.

"Oh, Y/N?"

You had just reached your front yard when the man called out your name, causing you to turn over your right shoulder, your eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

"You got mail." He nodded his head towards your mailbox.

______________________________________________________________

I'm back...again! I had the idea for this fic ages ago and I just couldn't find the start! But I think I've got it! This was originally supposed to be a little short one, but my mind ran away with it and now it's going to be a series!

As always, if you don't want to miss any of my fics, just get in touch and I will add you to my Taglist!

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#travis kelce x reader #travis kelce imagine #kelce x reader #nfl imagine #original story #travis kelce fic #travis kelce #travis kelce fluff #nfl fluff #travis kelce smut #travis kelce angst #nfl smut #nfl angst #nfl fic #kelcemenow requests

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iceman-soup · 11 months ago

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request!

sorry if you've done this already, but what would Ghost and Soap's first leave together look like? could be sfw or nsfw, everything is up to you

yes yes yesss this is sfw because my descriptive brain took over, also autistic ghost supremacy 🫶🫶

ghost x soap

Simon wasn't ready to meet Johnny's family yet. Hell, they'd only been dating five or so months before deciding to stick with each other on leave, and by that point it was far too stressful and overwhelming to think about meeting a whole bunch of new people to mask around and make good impressions. Ghost needed the time off to re-regulate, and honestly, Soap wasn't up to introducing a boyfriend he had barely warned his mother about beforehand.

So instead the two taxi'd over to Manchester from the airport, arriving at a tiny, cheap flat with even cheaper security cameras dotted on each outside wall and above the front door. "Enough of a deterrent, even if half don't work," explains Simon, seeing Johnny looking around curiously. He unlocks the door and pushes it open an inch, baited breath for a couple of moments as he appears to listen for anything unusual, before opening the door properly, flicking on the warm overhead lights and pulling Soap in by the hand, who gazes at the inside of his flat whilst Ghost locks the door again.

"Dinnae take you for an interior designer, Lt," John grins, glancing at the taller man before going back to admiring the space. It's dusty, sure, but otherwise not quite as awful as expected, and although cramped, holds a feeling of comfort and rest. The two are standing in the kitchen, cupboards naked oak wood and counters hand-painted daffodil yellow, the honey-coloured floor tiles chipped but superglued back together. The image of Si sitting cross-legged on the ground fixing them fills Soap's mind, his heart fluttering at how domestic his lieutenant suddenly seems.

There isn't a wall between the kitchen and living room, and Johnny takes that opportunity to wonder straight through, taking note of a comfy-looking secondhand sofa to cuddle up on together later. An old TV with a jumble of cables is stood upon a coffee table, which simultaneously doubles as an actual coffee table, evident by a few mismatched coasters with just as many water marks as the surface they're supposed to be protecting. Splintering wood in the tried-to-be-aesthetic bare floorboards are covered by a granny rug which contrasts the baby blue walls surprisingly well. Two doors lead off from the living room, and Ghost walks over to the first one, opening it to show the other.

"Bathroom," he comments as if it isn't obvious. There's nothing extraordinary about it, but Soap does notice his unwavering loyalty here and on base to his very specific shower products - of course. He nods and they move on, entering the fourth room. Si hovers at the doorway whilst Johnny wanders inside, taking in the bedroom.

Most of the space is taken up by a double bed pressed up in the far corner, white paint on the metal frame missing in spots, showing its age. The bedding is black with little bone prints patterning it, soft cotton and all matching. Shoved next to the bed is a chest of drawers, one of the handles missing and replaced with a nail bashed into the wood. Hung up precariously on the picture rail over it is Simon's formal uniform - clearly unused for years due to his skilful avoidance of social events. Again, the floor is stripped of carpet (the bedroom in slightly safer condition than in the living room) and the walls are painted, this time a pale pink and dotted with glow-in-the-dark plastic stars.

"Never got them as a kid," Ghost mutters, gesturing to the stars and then the general soft colours of his flat. He shuffles awkwardly on his feet, avoiding eye contact - and subsequently his boyfriend's loving smile too. "You want something to eat? I don't have anything," he adds quickly.

"We can go doon to the chippy?" John suggests, walking over to kiss him tenderly. "Or if you don't feel like seein' people, I could order us something." The taller man nods at the second option, then proceeds to wrap his arms around Soap's waist, burying his face into the crook of his neck and pressing his lips to the skin, simply savouring his warm embrace.

"I love you, Johnny. I'm happy you're here."

The next few days go by far too quick for either's liking. They're spent with long mornings just laying in bed, doing fuck all on their phones in the oddest cuddle positions known; alternatively, smothering each other in hugs and kisses until they have to give them attention until they're satisfied. Time is spent plodding around the flat, wearing pyjama trousers and fluffy socks and with blankets draped over their bare shoulders.

Meals are cooked with very little skill but a whole lot of try, so at least that's something. Neither go out much; just to the shops when they need something or one night to get fish and chips from the good place across the street. They eat sitting on the countertop or the sofa, watching some shitshow with a laugh track that winds Simon up.

Evenings involve making out during conversation, quietly murmuring and laughing between kisses, chests pressed together so their hearts can talk directly. Ghost realises he's never felt so safe and content on leave before this one night when they're lying in bed, a dim lamp the only light in the room as he runs his fingers through Soap's hair, now slightly curly from growing out whilst not on base. It's quiet, but not in the lonely, terrifying way it usually is when he's alone in the flat, left to his own thoughts for however long between deployments.

Maybe, just maybe, leave will become something that he doesn't dread anymore. And perhaps next time - he thinks, pressing a kiss to his boyfriend's forehead and flicking off the lamp - it might be nice to meet Johnny's family.

#thank you for the request!!!#i feel like in general their first leave together would be a little awkward #ghost wouldnt really know how he's supposed to act with a guest in his flat #but the guest is soap so everything's all good #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghoap #soapghost #ghostsoap #cod fluff #soap x ghost #ghost x soap #autistic simon ghost riley

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vintagehomecollection · 6 months ago

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Traditional Country Style, 1991

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barefoothighlander · 2 years ago

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mary on a cross - until it sleeps

-simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

-warnings: descriptions of violence, mdni, slight stalker!ghost, male masturbation, mentions of alcohol, unwanted male attention, mentions of smut

-word count: 4.5k

-summary: you've recently moved to manchester, while looking for jobs you come across a run-down pub looking for bartenders. upon meeting its owner simon, you find out there's more to him than meets the eye. mercenary au

next chapter fic masterlist

a/n: okay so the poll isn't over but this au was winning and I got too excited to write it.

Simon woke up to light peering in through the bedroom window, turning his head to glance at the woman that lay beside him in bed. It wasn’t rare that he went home with someone, usually some woman who had come to the pub alone and he ended up chatting with to kill time. To him, these hookups were simply a means to an end, an easy way to get rid of some stress, most times he’d sneak out of their flats before they woke up, praying they wouldn’t come back to the pub for some kind of confrontation, and they usually didn’t. The time spent with his hookups was almost the only source of sleep he’d get, spending his days at the bar and his nights on the streets or rooftops.

He gathered his scattered clothes from the floor quietly, hoping not to wake the sleeping woman whose name he couldn’t remember, carefully dressing and making his way to the front door, descending the stairs and walking out onto the streets of manchester. It was unusually warm for April, with barely a cloud in the sky, a welcome change from the constant rain that the city usually endured, the pub wasn’t far, maybe a couple of blocks, he’d shower when he got there, his own flat residing directly above the pub. The walk was short, Simon occupying his time by watching all the people wander the streets, going into shops or chatting together, he reached the pub, unlocking the door and heading up the steps to ready himself for the day.

You were utterly lost, the city streets a maze to you, you’d lived in the city for close to a month now but you spent most of that time unpacking and organizing your flat. It was modest, to say the least, the best you could afford, but it had a decent bathroom and kitchen, and you were determined to make it feel like a home. Decorating it with plenty of rugs and throw pillows, even having a small open cupboard designated to your collection of mugs, your building was mostly occupied by elderly people and their small dogs, you weren’t central to anywhere but there was a nice coffeeshop across the street which you frequented.

This morning you woke up in good spirits, determined to have a good day after the weeks of stress endured by your move and your ex-boyfriend, you had decided to make the move after finally breaking up with him, 4 years of your life spent being belittled by him and you finally got sick of it, choosing to put as much distance between you and him as possible, but you were running out of money, whatever you have saved up quickly depleting, so today, you had to find a job.

You had ventured to a handful of different shops around the city, giving your resume to anyone who would take it, hoping that one of them would call you back. Yours were exhausted and you heard your stomach start to grumble, facing forward you notice a small pub tucked between a flower shop and a boxing gym, deciding it was as good of a place as any to grab something to eat. Ushing through the heavy doors you’re met with the heavy scent of wood, cigarettes, and whiskey, setting yourself down on a stool at the bar, looking around for any sign of life. It was early but it also wasn’t rare to see a few people littering the pubs around noon. Calling out to anyone who might be there you turn your head at the sound of a door opening, standing up from your stool only to have your entire body freeze.

Your eyes locked on a large blonde man, he was wearing a simple pair of jeans and a t-shirt, but he was massive, tall enough that you’d have to crane your neck to look at his face, his hair was damp, but what you notice first was the number of scars scattered over his arms, some shallow and some deep, all drawing your eyes to the large tattoo on his forearm, black and white but with a heavy amount of detail. Before you could make out any of the markings his deep voice rang through your ears.

“Can I help you love?”

You pull your focus to his eyes, they’re a deep colour in this light, as a smile pulls at your cheeks.

“Yeah, I was just wondering if you serve any food here?”

He shakes his head a little, staring down your form. “No, just drinks, sorry”

You don’t know why, but you feel inclined to stay here, even if it meant enduring an empty stomach.

“Any scotch?” you ask with a tilt of your head

He nods, urging you over to the bar, as you sit down he pulls out two glasses and a bottle of brown liquor.

“That’s bourbon,” you state

“I know, better than any scotch you’ll have in this town”

You laugh a little and he looks up to meet your face, smiling slightly to himself. He slides the glass over to you and you take a small sip.

“Not bad,” you say, he nods in agreement “So do you own the place?”

“Yea, bought it a few years back, needed something to do”

“And it’s just you that works here?”

“Most nights, sometimes I have a friend come and help out if there's a football game on, too many people for just me”

“So you’re looking for bartenders,” you ask, eyes widening

“Not particularly,” he says furrowing his brows oh. You bow your head a little and continue sipping on your drink.

“You new in town?”

You nod your head, “yeah, moved here about a month ago, need a job” you say as you huff a laugh to yourself.

“You don’t want to work here,” he says as you look up quirking an eyebrow, urging him to explain. “It’s a dingy old pub, always full of rowdy old blokes, not exactly a great position for a pretty young girl”

You smile, “I can take care of myself, I bartended in college, you should see some of the fights that break out during the Superbowl”

“Believe me doll, Americans are nothing compared to English folk,” he says, finishing his drink before placing the glass below the bar.

“C’mon, give me a shot, if I screw up you can fire me, I won’t be mad”

He stares into your eyes, thinking for a minute, weighing the options in his mind.

“We open at 1 and close at 3 am, can you be here tomorrow?”

Your face lights up and Simon can’t help but smile.

“Yes, I can,” you say, almost jumping from your stool. Simon nods his head.

“I’m serious kid, you mess up my pub and I will fire you,” he says, knowing in his head that it’s a lie.

You’re beaming with joy as you stand up and turn to leave. “I promise you won’t regret hiring me” Before you can leave he shouts over to you.

“Oi, I’m Simon by the way”

You turn and give him your name, and he smiles and waves you out. You practically skip out of the pub, making your way back to your flat, glowing with the joy of a successful job hunt. While Simon stands alone behind the bar, he can’t wipe the smile from his face, you’re just so different from anyone else who comes into the pub, like a physical ray of sunshine, a stark contrast to the environment he stands in. He finds himself repeating your name over and over while cleaning the bartop and preparing for patrons, he’s never felt that calm with someone before, usually keeping conversation to a minimum when people approach him, but you pulled answers from him so easily, he doesn’t know what it is about you that has him taking his guard down, but he’s sure it’s going to get him into trouble.

You wake up the next morning early, you don’t have to be at the pub till 1 but you want to get there early to get some sort of lay of the land, chucking on some denim shorts and a top you make your way, stopping first to grab a coffee for both you and Simon.

When you get to the pub you walk in and find Simon sitting at a table, flipping through papers.

“Good morning” you beam, placing the coffee infront of him, he looks up at you the down to the drink.

“What’s this?”

“Didn’t know what you liked, figured black was my best be” wrong

“I prefer tea” he states plainly as your smile falters a bit, “but thank you”

“Should’ve figured, people aren’t big into coffee here” you say, sitting across from him.

“You’re early” he says, turning his attention back to the pages

“Yeah I-” you stop for a second, looking at his arms, he has a bandage wrapped around his forearm and his knuckles are pink and swollen. Noticing your stare, he pulls his arms off the table to his side. “I just wanted to get a feel for the place before starting”

“Well there’s not much to it, pretty much everything in the front, extra of everything is kept in the back there, and the back stairs just go up to my flat”

“You live above the pub?” you ask

He takes a beat, “Yeah, makes it easy to get to work”

You giggle a little and he can’t help the smile that tugs at his lips.

“So you’ve bartended before?”

“Yea about 3 years total”

“Can you pour a pint?”

“Of course”

“Show me.” he gestures to the bar, you make your way behind it and grab a glass. Stationing yourself at one of the taps you begin to pour.

“That has to be the ugliest Guinness I’ve ever seen,” he says with a smile, you scoff in defence.

“Here let me show you” He scoots his body behind yours, eyes locked on yours. He grabs another glass and gives it to you, holding your hand as you grip the glass, mind suddenly fogging from the close contact. His hands are rough and large, they encapsulate yours. You can smell him, he smells clean, but there’s hints of cigarette smoke and amber. He grabs your attention by pulling the spout down, tilting your hand to hold the glass at a 45-degree angle before allowing the ale to fill the glass, turning it back upright before stopping the pour, letting it settle, then topping it off.

“There, that’s a proper pint,” he says, placing the glass down, chest still pressed to your back. You turn your head back to look at his face and he stares at you for a minute, then quickly breaks focus moving away from you. Chills cover your body at the sudden loss of contact.

“You should probably wear something a little less revealing as well,” he says, gesturing to your shorts “Men around here can get quite crude”

“It’s alright, I’m sure you’ll just beat up anyone who messes with me,” you say jokingly, but he would he’d do more than just beat them up, he nods and smiles in response.

The two of you fill the time making light conversation, it’s mostly you talking but Simon asks a lot of questions, he wants to know where you’re from, what you studied in college, why you moved here.

“Um, I just had to get away from a guy,” you say sheepishly, he nods in understanding and doesn’t pry more, but he can sense a hint of sadness in your tone when you talk about it.

“So what about you, why a bar owner,” you ask

“Left the military and needed money”

You laugh, “Seriously, that’s all I get”

He grins, “There’s not much to it, I served for over a decade and when I left everything was just so quiet, needed some excitement and I guess I got that in the form of old drunk men shouting at a football match”

A few minutes of silence pass, you continue cleaning tables, “what’s your favourite movie?”

“Huh?”

“Films, movies, what’s your favourite?”

“Uh, I don’t really watch movies”

“Come on, everyone has a favourite movie, it doesn’t have to be some super macho pick, just, what’s your favourite?”

“Only one I can think of is Harry Potter”

“You’ve seen Harry Potter?”

“Yea I took my nephew to see it a while ago”

“Awh thats sweet, do you see him often?”

His smile fades and he turns away from you, “No”

You bite your cheek at the feeling that you’ve overstepped. Finishing your cleaning in silence before the bar opens and people start to fill in. The night was busy, people in and out, constantly running around to bring drinks, thankfully Simon helps you out a lot, pouring drinks and dealing with most of the rude customers. By closing time you’re exhausted, your hair is a mess and your feet are sore. Setting yourself down in a chair after wiping all the tables, you watch as Simon cleans a few glasses, stacking them neatly behind the bar.

“So, am I getting fired”

Not a chance in hell, “no, you did pretty well” he says

You smile wide, turning to face the ground and blushing to yourself.

“Listen I’ve got some stuff to take care of, so you can take off now if you’d like”

“Oh no, I’ll help,” you say standing to move towards the bartop

“It’s mostly financial stuff, super boring”

“Oh, alright, well I’ll see you tomorrow then,” you say, smiling to him

“Yea, have a good night doll,” he says before turning back to his task.

You gather your things and start walking home, the streets are dark and few street lights guide your way. You still haven’t memorized the route and end up taking a few wrong turns, ending up in an unfamiliar alley, cursing to yourself you turn around before two dark figures come into your line of sight. You feel your breath hitch, quickly making your way out onto the street, you turn back and the men are facing you, picking up your pace, anxiety starts to flood your veins. You hear the men shouting something at you but the sound of blood pumping in your ears is too loud to make out what they’re saying, rushing your way down the streets, the men continue their pursuit. You stare ahead and continue, turning back when you notice their shouting has ceased, you stop in your tracks as the men have disappeared. Confused you look around, maybe they just gave up, you collect yourself and continue home, making it safely to your flat.

You set your things down and lock the door before stripping your clothes and entering your shower, taking your time to clean all the sweat and spilt liquor from your skin. Stepping out in a towel you walk into your bedroom, noticing your open window, you move closer and glance out the window, the alley behind your flat is dark, used mostly to hold dumpsters, but you swear you see the figure of a man leaning against a wall. Mind freezing you panic slightly, shutting the window and closing the curtains before turning to your dresser to pick out something to sleep in.

Simon stumbles into his flat at 4am, his body fatigued, stepping into his bathroom he glances at himself in the mirror, his face covered by his balaclava, only his eyes can be seen. He takes a deep breath collecting himself, before washing the blood from his hands and cleaning his cuts. His knuckles were raw and red, he wraps them loosely and sits on the edge of the tub. He had followed you home, he didn’t mean to but when he left the pub and noticed you taking a wrong turn he wanted to make sure you were safe. Following slowly behind you from the roofs of the buildings, he didn’t want you to see him and get scared, he never wanted to scare you. But when he noticed two men following you he couldn’t just stand by, quickly descending a fire escape to sneak behind the men, grabbing one by the throat and breaking his neck before removing the knife from his belt and placing his hand over the other man's mouth to keep him quiet, and stabbing him in the side of his neck. He pulled the two bodies into the nearby alley and positioned himself so he could see you. Making sure you got back to your flat safely.

He stood outside and waited to make sure you got in, he didn’t mean to watch as you undressed, it made him feel perverse, but he couldn’t find the strength to tear his eyes away, the way your breasts sat, the curve of your ass, he felt his pants tighten at the sight, quickly turning his gaze to anything that would distract him before, occupying himself with his own thoughts.

It was late, you were home and safe, he should’ve left, but something in him couldn’t, he looked back to the window only to find your towel-clad body staring back at him, he froze, there was no way you could tell it was him, his whole body was covered and it was dark. He watched you quickly shut the window, removing any sight he had on you, Simon huffs a breath to himself, a silent get-it-together, before leaving and making his way back to the pub.

The next morning you woke with a strange feeling, you couldn’t shake the sight of the man in the alley, you make your way to the window and pull back the curtains to look out. Exhaling a breath of course no one’s there, you shake your head, feeling foolish and start getting ready for the day. You had a few errands to run before work, some tidying, and a little bit of shopping considering you had barely anything to eat in your fridge.

You finished rather quickly, finding that you still had 3 hours before work to kill, you decide to explore the streets in the safety of the daylight. Finally figuring out the quickest route from your flat to the pub, and checking out a few of the small shops that scattered the streets. You engaged in small conversation with the vendors before checking your watch, 12:30, shit, you had to go, thanking the man at the coffee shop for your drinks you made your way to the pub.

You step into the pub but see no sight of Simon, calling out his name.

“In the back” you hear

Making your way to the back room you find Simon looking over inventory with a glass in his hand.

“Little early to be drinking no?”

“Not here it’s not”

You nod to yourself, extending your arm to hand him a hot tea.

“Didn’t know what you liked, just got some milk"

He looks up at you and reached over the accept the beverage before twisting to grab a few sugar packets behind him, dumping 3 packs into the drink. Your eyes widen at the sight.

“Never would’ve guessed you took that much sugar in your tea”

He laughs and shrugs his shoulders. The two of you exit the back room and situate yourselves across from each other at a table, both enjoying your drinks before you break the silence.

“So something really strange happened last night,” you say, Simon stops sipping abruptly, looking up to lock eyes with you, shit she saw me

You continue, “These two guys were following me on my way home and then I turned back and they were just gone” He doesn’t say anything, just keeps watching you.

You take a beat, “then I swear I saw this guy outside my window, but I don’t know, it was dark, was probably just tired or something” you say, shrugging your shoulders

Simon puts his drink down, trying to think of a response.

“Maybe, I mistake trashcans for people sometimes in the dark”

You laugh, “yea maybe”

He remains stoic, sipping his tea. The two of you finish your drinks and fall back into the same routine as the previous day, serving drinks, trying to mediate arguments between drunk patrons. Simon finds himself smiling while watching you engage in conversation with two men, you seemed passionate about what you were saying, throwing your head back in laughter at something one of them said before one of them places a hand on top of yours, Simon stops what he was doing and takes a step towards the 3 of you, stopping when he sees you turn to pour the man another drink. What am I doing, he feels so protective of you and he doesn’t know why, he’s known you less than a week yet he can’t keep his eyes off of you, he shakes the thoughts from his head and moves to the back room.

He spends a few minutes gathering extra liquor to replace what’s missing from the wall before he hears a glass shatter and you yelp, dropping the items and rushing to you he finds you standing over the bar sink, hand dripping blood.

“What happened?” he asks, hand reaching for yours, inspecting it before turning on the tap to run it underwater.

“Glass slipped, cut myself trying to catch it”

He scans your face for any signs of pain or worry but you’re composed, turning to the men in front of you, eyeing them over accusingly, you pull your hand from the water and reach for the medical kit beneath the bar.

“Here I’ll do it,” he says, holding your wrist in one hand whilst using the other to grab some gauze and wrap to dress the cut.

You chuckle to yourself, “Almost seems like you do this often” you comment watching how quick and precise he is with his wrapping.

“Yeah something like that”

He finishes wrapping your hand and you thank him.

“I’ll take over up here,” he says, nodding to you to move away from the bar, you oblige and occupy yourself cleaning up tables littered with empty glasses. The two of you close the bar early as there was barely anyone there by midnight, you offer again to stay back and help Simon clean but he refuses, telling you to go home and get some rest, so you do. Walking your route home on edge, anticipating any sort of unwanted follower but none come, the walk was short as you descend the stairs into your flat and once again prepare for bed.

Simon’s night wasn’t as simple, like the night before he had made sure you got home safe, thankfully this time he didn’t have to kill anyone, but he did find himself lingering at your window again, this time higher up on a set of stairs so that the darkness of the night concealed him. You had neglected to shut your curtains, whether it was ignorance or intention Simon didn’t care, not when he had a perfect view of your naked form, moving around your bedroom he watched as you put on some underwear and a loose t-shirt to sleep, silently wishing it was his clothes you wore to bed, he watched as you dozed off to sleep, sometimes jostling a little in your sleep. He found comfort in knowing you were safe, that he was the one to ensure your safety, before long he found himself getting a little tired, dropping down from his spot to make his way back to his own flat. Simon was no stranger to being awake for a long time, the military ensured that, and he used it to his advantage, easier to stake out a target when you aren’t dozing off, but something about your presence, it brought him peace, he found himself wanting to fall asleep, only to dream of you, your eyes, the way they crinkle a little when you smile that smile, it lights up your whole face, he can’t help but feel his body untense at the thought of your smile, always kind and warm, everything he wasn’t.

He made his way back to his flat without issue, stripping his clothes off before stepping into the shower, standing under the steady stream of warm water his mind wanders. Your face, the smell of your hair, your soft hands, he feels himself growing harder at the thought of your soft hands touching his body, he reaches a hand down to stroke at his length. Your body, the warmth of your skin against his, the curve of your ass, his mind continues as he begins pumping his hand along his length, small groans leaving his mouth. Your tits, how they would feel when he held them, how perfect they would sit in his large hands, rough hands teasing over your hard nipple, the moans you’d release, only for him. He braces his free hand against the tile wall, quickening his pace, he imagines all the noises he could make creep up from your throat, your whimpers, how you’d squeeze him when he told you how good you felt, how he’d make you scream his name while he buried his cock deep inside you. A strangled moan leaves his lips before he starts shooting warm ropes toward the floor of the shower, he takes a minute to collect himself, evening out his breathing. Fuck, he shouldn’t be thinking these things about you, not when you were so innocent and he was so corrupt, he needed you, craved you, but he couldn’t have you, if you knew anything about him you’d run away and he’d never feel your presence again. He’d be fine with never knowing your touch as long as it meant he got to keep you in his life, but God did he want to touch you, every time he saw you he had to fight the urge to press you against the nearest surface and plant kisses all over you, marking you as his.

He stepped out of the shower, turning on the news to try and distract himself from his thoughts only to see the reporter on his screen talking about how more bodies had been discovered in the streets of Manchester and how the police had no leads. He shook his head, he never feared being caught, not when he was so careful to remain unseen, but then, he had nothing to lose, now, he has you, he can’t won’t lose you, not to this, not to some immoral past time, he had to get more creative, the police can’t find any more bodies.

He lay in bed, watching the screen, feeling his eyelids grow heavier before turning to his side and drifting off to sleep. He’s woken abruptly to the sound of his phone ringing, he turns to check the time, 6am, he looks at the screen and answers the call.

“Hello?”

“It was you, I know it was you”

Shit

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haggishlyhagging · 5 months ago

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Among the plaited objects in the menstruant's hut, one of the first may have been her rug. Since she was forbidden to touch the ground with any part of her body, leaves were spread for her, banana leaves, broad pandanus leaves, pine boughs, or bark. Later the floor covering would be woven or fitted together—mats, sticks of bamboo, slats of wood. From this practice, it seems reasonable to suppose, people may have developed the habit of putting wooden floors in their houses.

During her seclusions she would have also acquired the wooden chair and stool as a matter of course, because her vulva could not touch the earth: "Among the Yabim and Bukaua, two neighbouring and kindred tribes on the coast of Northern New Guinea, a girl at puberty is secluded for some five or six weeks in an inner part of the house; but she may not sit on the floor, lest her uncleanliness should cleave to it, so a log of wood is placed for her to squat on." The menstruant squatted on special materials that kept her safely raised: slabs of wood, slabs of leather, woven mats, and in clothmaking cultures, pillows. Rachel, in Genesis, sat upon a special "camel chair" seat to menstruate.

The menstruant was propped up with logs or branches on three sides and underneath, to keep her contained and to keep her from lying down or from falling asleep. This form of her sitting body, outlined in wood, needed only to have its parts lashed together to become what we know as a chair. Men of course acquired the right to sit in chairs, just as they acquired clothing. My father and mother each had a designated chair, and they rarely sat anywhere else; chairs now belong to both genders. But as with all cosmetikos, the ideology for and the source of the form chair belong to the menstrual seclusion rites.

From the nakedness of the primal ancestress in her elemental hut, to the menstruant's emergence in full public ceremony at the end of her seclusion, women enacted and communicated fundamental mysteries by dressing in metaforms. The menstruant's paraphernalia piled up around her —her bowls, her straws, her mats, and her plates. They were hers alone; no one else could use them without being harmed. If she didn't break them, they had to be stored in special places, kept away from others in what would eventually become trunks, boxes, baskets, closets, cupboards—and my mother's red cedar chest. Her utensils would be carefully wrapped and cleaned, kept, like her, in the dark. She would become the one with the overflowing purse, the trunks of clothing, the hatboxes, the rolls of rugs and blankets, and the shelves of household "goods" that formed the basis, not only for family and village life, but for all technological measurement. The woman would carry her paraphernalia with her. She would become the gender who—around the world—carries the largest burdens.

-Judy Grahn, Blood, Bread, and Roses: How Menstruation Created the World

#judy grahn #menstruation #menstrual rites #female culture

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hometoursandotherstuff · 1 year ago

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Oh, wow, you have to see this 1912 chalet in Symonds Yat East, Ross-on-Wye, Herefordshire, UK. 5bds, 3ba, £1.5M / $1.82M. So, I've learned that this is the house exterior they used in Netflix's "Sex Education." I don't have Netflix.

The home was designed with a Norwegian influence. Isn't this pretty & homey? A fireplace and cupboard in the center entrance hall. Take note of the wood paneled walls in every room.

I wish they hadn't painted all the wood and fireplaces, though. Even the ceilings are beadboard. This house is all wood inside. Lovely living room.

The dining room opens to the deck and has a great view. I would imagine that this room could also be a sunroom or small conservatory.

Remodeled kitchen. You can't go wrong with Shaker cabinets and I love the gray. Look at the wonderful fireplace in the kitchen.

How lovely is this conservatory set up as a dining room that opens to the patio.

Proceeding to the 2nd level bedrooms & baths.

Isn't this lovely? So many fireplaces in this home. All the bedrooms have access to the terrace.

So spacious, too.

Large updated vintage bath.

Large, L-shaped room on the 3rd level.

Vintage bath on the 3rd level.

What a cozy nook.

Modern shower room.

Here's another cozy hang-out room.

How about a cool hot tub that you have to stoke with wood or coal?

Cheery laundry room on the ground floor opens to a patio.

Decks and terraces overlook the beautiful mountain views.

Lovely large yard.

4.52 acres of property to explore.

#chalet in UK #chalets #old house dreams #houses #house tours #home tour

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dellamortethelesser · 8 months ago

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SESSION ONE: WELCOME TO BAROVIA

This is the re-cap/write-up of our first session in CURSE OF STRAHD: HUNTED, a campaign run by our dungeon-master ONYX and played by a total of six people around the table. In this session the party first arrives in the plane of Barovia and meets each other, before heading toward the nearest village (also Barovia).

As a note, the character known as Luca does not show up in subsequent sessions as the player bowed out of the campaign and we brought in someone else to take their place in session 2.

View the cast HERE.

For now, though, here is the start of the STORY SO FAR. / (MOBILE LINK)

The session opens with everyone centering in on a clearing, in the woods just south of Barovia.

Melchior and Giselle had met earlier in the day; Melchior introduced himself to her as a werewolf hunter, and seeing that Giselle was lost, agreed to take her to the village of Barovia so that she could start to get her bearings. It's late, and they've just set camp. Suddenly, an elf bursts into the clearing--Lune--and only pauses for a moment to tell them to "run" before they move along, faster than anyone the other two have ever seen before.

Before Melchior and Giselle have a chance to decide what to do, there is another interruption. Falling from the sky is Crafine, the kenku, followed quickly by Vayagol, a cleric who lands on top of them. As the group struggles to get their bearings, with Melchior offering healing word to Crafine, they realize that Giselle has already run off after Lune.

Eventually, the party catches up and gathers together underneath a tree. Up in the branches, Lune is helping Luca (bloodhunter) and an injured hunter, Bernor, down from the tree. Luca is covered in blood down the front of his shirt, and Bernor is limping along with his crossbow.

Crafine's sense power ability reveals a mass of undead encroaching upon the group from every direction except to the north, so everyone heads north. The mists, which seem to be chasing them, funnels them over the bridge and into the village of Barovia. Although to outsiders, the edge of the town is dilapidated, with abandoned houses and shuttered windows, those native to the plane state that it is always in such a state. The party takes note of a mansion nearby, welcoming with warm lights in the windows, though Melchior is disinterested in seeking help there.

Luca goes to seek help in the inn (Blood of the Vine), but the locals are frightened by the encroaching mists and so no help comes. Despite Melchior's warnings, Giselle makes a run for the mansion and prompts the party to follow. They find themselves trapped within Durst Manor, as the fog closes in and gives them nowhere else to turn. Melchior and Luca hint that this might be by design, alluding to a mysterious baron, and the party goes inside to investigate what might be going on within the manor.

Just inside, in the foyer, the party encounters two children: Rose & Thorn. The two children inform the party that their parents are gone (but insist that they will return), and that a monster "lives in the basement, but is haunting them through the walls". Despite Melchior's reticence, the party agrees to help them out. They decide to leave the children with Bernor guarding them, armed with a crossbow in the foyer, while everyone else explores the lower level of the house.

A short rest is taken, and then exploration begins. It appears as though life has frozen in place: the kitchen appears to have been freshly used, a mess with food and dishware scattered everywhere, and there is a hot feast out and waiting in the dining room. No one partakes of any food, though there is some theft of the silverware after Melchior reveals that he is a werewolf hunter, and that werewolves are a threat in Barovia. He says that a table setting is unlikely to do much damage to one of the beasts, but thefts occur regardless.

Upon not finding much on the first floor, save a bungled attempt to open a locked cupboard and an aside that Vayagol might not hear from her god here, the party decides to head up into the second floor. Melchior recognizes the people in the painted portrait at the top of the stairs, and correctly identifies the face of Gustav Durst, the former master of the Durst Manor and whose family used to rule Barovia. He recognizes Elizabeth Durst, his wife, who is scowling down at the baby cradled in Gustav's arms. The two children in front of them, who he states seem to be Rose & Thorn Durst, are smiling unawares.

In the library, Lune discovers a secret passageway; within, they find runic books on the shelves (which neither Melchior nor Crafine had the time to try and translate). Also within the passageway was a skeleton, that had clearly been killed by acidic darts, clutching a letter. The letter reads as follows:

My most pathetic servant, I am not a messiah sent to you by the Dark Powers of this land. I have not come to lead you on a path to immortality. However many souls you have bled on your hidden altar, however many visitors you have tortured in your dungeon, know that you are not the ones who brought me to this beautiful land. You are but worms writhing in my earth. You say that you are cursed, your fortunes spent. You abandoned love for madness, took solace in the bosom of another woman, and sired a stillborn son. Cursed by darkness? Of that I have no doubt. Save you from your wretchedness? I think not. I much prefer you as you are. Your dread lord and master, Strahd Von Zarovich

Lune opens up the chest on which the skeleton was propped up, and retrieves several items: three identified scrolls (bless, protection from poison, spiritual weapon) and three more scrolls that have yet to be identified. In the study portion of the library, Melchior reads through the first page of an open journal that was left out near the fireplace, and locates a silver key within the desk emblazoned with the symbol of a windmill; he recognizes this windmill from his travels.

Across the hall in the music room, Luca effortlessly serenades Giselle with enchanting piano music while she dances along. Crafine and Melchior enter the music room to investigate, so Giselle steps outside to talk to Vayagol. While this is happening, Lune travels upstairs to the third level of the manor alone, triggering an attack on the party by animated armors that suddenly spring to life.

In the ensuing combat, much is revealed, such as: Giselle is capable of casting magic, despite her previous claims that she is unable to do much more than to cook or paint. Melchior spies Luca drawing his own blood in combat, and his eyes turning a bright electric blue. Crafine almost falls unconscious, but Vayagol dashes over to him to heal his injuries before he is lost.

the party calls for a long rest.

in the library, Luca reveals to Crafine the truth that he is a dhampir, and that his blood is electrified(?) He alludes to some fonder familiarity between himself and Bernor. the pair of them play cards with the children, teaching Rose & Thorn how to gamble.

in the servants quarters, Melchior is carefully embroidering red thread into a large sheaf of spare black cloth. he tells Vayagol that his mother taught him how to do, and gestures to the red flowers embroidered onto his shirt. he implies that the flowers are of traditional significance, and promises to teach her the art of embroidery at a later time.

in the hallway, Lune speaks to Giselle, who is sticking close to them out of fear from the recent attack and feeling safer with them. Lune learns that Giselle was not lying to the party, but she has only recently come into her powers. Lune ponders over the amulet around their neck before taking their meditative rest.

end long rest.

after the long rest, Crafine and Luca realize that Bernor and the children are missing. Alarmed, the rest of the party is quickly roused, and everyone agrees to ascend to the third level of the house. (Luca and Giselle first investigate the third floor, but Melchior writes them off and convinces everyone else to keep going). The third story is unlike the first two: it is decrepit and aged, walls peeling, cobwebs strung along corners and dusty furniture. Crafine locates a hidden stairwell hidden in the far wall. the party splits at this point.

Melchior, Luca, Crafine, and Vayagol enter the northern room. In this room, they find another dead body--a man, but no one knows whom. They tear this room apart with perception checks: Crafine locates a safe in the nearby wall, and Melchior locates the key locket hidden within the bed. Within the safe is a jewelry box with an expensive looking pendant and three non-magical rings; Luca takes the pendant, and Crafine tricks Melchior into handing over the rings. Vayagol reminds them that they are supposed to be looking for Bernor and the children.

Melchior notices that Crafine is additionally wearing a wedding ring.

In the southern room, Lune and Giselle open the door and are set upon by a specter who does not want to permit them entry into the room. Both of them attempt to calm the spirit enough to enter the room, but fail. They do get the specter to indicate that the missing children are another floor up, on the fourth floor, accessible only by the recently discovered secret passage.

On the fourth floor, the party locates the bedroom of Rose & Thorn Durst. It is discovered that the children they previously met on the first floor were not the real spirits, but an entity mimicking them. Through questioning the children, it is inferred that Strahd likely killed their parents at a dinner banquet, and the children were left to starve alone upstairs.

During this discussion, Melchior becomes visibly distressed and leaves the room; although he occasionally interjects with questions, he is mostly pale and sick-looking for a time.

The dollhouse in their room reveals that passages to the basement are missing that should have been there. The house is sentient, and was hiding the basement access from the party (either to protect us or to protect itself). Crafine wraps up the bones of the children to properly bury them; additionally, he and Giselle both allow themselves to be possessed by Rose & Thorn. Lune takes the dolls of the children at Melchior's behest.

Before they descend to the basement, Crafine and Melchior have an argument at the top of the stairwell. Melchior insists that attempting to fight the creature within the manor is futile, as everything within Barovia is subject to the will of Strahd Von Zarovich: their best attempt would be to flee and chance with the mist. Crafine argues that it is the coward's way out, and that there is no other way but to the basement. Despite his reservations, Melchior makes no attempt to leave the group.

During this argument, Melchior bares his teeth at Crafine, revealing sharp canines; Luca notices this and asks Melchior if he is also a dhampir, something which Melchior affirms. Luca shows off his ability to spider climb on the ceiling.

As they descend, Crafine moves slowly, allowing for some to get a chance to converse. Melchior and Luca discuss dhampirism (with a few interjections from Crafine), in which Melchior agrees that they are strange kindred, but does not reveal what he hungers for (Luca is revealed to be a classic bloodsucker). additionally, it comes out that Crafine is in his 40s, with two children between the ages of 20-23. Luca is revealed to be physically 24, but due to his dhampirism, he is also up into his 40s. Melchior is simply 24, Giselle is 18, and Vayagol is 19. Lune does not offer their age.

Melchior keeps getting tripped by Something as they continue to head down the stairs. Crafine is using his sense powers skill repeatedly, fretting over a consecrated presence that has repeatedly occurred. As it keeps showing up from behind, he begins to shuffle the party members in front of him on the stairs so that he can narrow down from whom it is coming. Surprisingly, the cleric, Vayagol, is not the source of this consecrated energy. It is narrowed down to either Giselle or Lune, before Melchior, now at the front of the group, is violently shoved down the stairs.

As he recovers and gets his bearings, the rest of the party catches up to him. Melchior accuses Luca, who had been behind him, of being the one to push him. Luca denies this and the two bicker until Crafine puts an end to it, saying they need to keep moving.

Melchior indicates the group should go to their right, and lead them to a crypt. Underneath the Durst Manor is the Durst Family Crypt, which Melchior notes with no small amount of alarm seems suspiciously empty. As they head south, they find the four empty tombs of the immediate durst family: Gustav, Elizabeth, Rosevalda, and Thornboldt.

Crafine puts the bones of the children into their respective tombs (and Lune lays their dolls to rest with them), and the spirits pass on. Crafine and Giselle are no longer considered possessed.

As they head further into the crypt, Melchior is attacked by a hidden creature referred to as a grick. Thankfully, it is quickly disposed of, with Lune making the killing blow.

END OF SESSION ONE.

#cos: the story so far #cos: hunted #session recap #session one #cos: crafine #cos: giselle #cos: lune #cos: melchior #cos: vayagol #curse of strahd #barovia #death house

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paperbackribs · 1 year ago

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The Gift (4 of 15) (Witch Steve AU)

previous: Chapter 3 Boys Are Witches Too (Part B) next: Chapter 5 You're Doing That On Purpose (Part A) Ao3 Link - Chapters will be updated ahead of Tumblr Content: 1.5K words, CW: Eddie briefly uses homophobic language against himself.

Last chapter, Steve called back his mother to explain the latest round of the Upside Down and the Hawkins crew heard and accepted Steve's accounting of being a Witch. Now, Eddie wants to have a deeper conversation about what happened when he died.

Chapter 4 Break the Illusion

They had all been talking longer than he had realised, Steve thinks as he enters the kitchen. A window, facing out into the back garden, lets in the soft light of the late afternoon sun, its golden rays spilling over Eddie, creating a gentle halo on the dark cloud of his hair. Eddie's metalhead armor—the oversized black leather jacket, silver wallet chain, and worn jeans—seems incongruous against the peach floral patterns of the backsplash their interior designer installed back in '82.

Eddie has hopped up onto the tiled counter in front of the window, facing the door as he waits for Steve to join him. He’s also returned to that enigmatic expression again, Steve notes, though Eddie’s white Reeboks tap restlessly against the cupboards and his fingers twist at his rings, belying a nervous type of energy. He hopes it’s not him that is making Eddie jittery.

Steve waggles his fingers in a wave from the doorway in an awkward feeling of déjà vu, trying to communicate his harmlessness.

“Why’d you do it, man,” Eddie’s face may not be giving much away, but the tightness in his voice worries Steve.

How does he go about explaining the uncanny to a person who has never experienced it except in short and deadly bursts through a murdering psychopath or a journey through an eerie replica of their town?

Eddie hadn’t acted so reserved before he died, before he was brought back to the revelation that Steve is a Witch. Even in the midst of that damned forest he had been full of irreverant comments while easily swaying into Steve's personal space. The thought that Eddie may look at his white eye now and see the ashen and grotesque Vecna sits heavily in his gut.

Considering Eddie's limited exposure to the variety of mystical present in their world, Steve supposes he can excuse the guy for being tense. A heavy sigh gusts out of him in an attempt to let loose the apprehension stuck at the back of his throat. Determinedly, Steve walks towards Eddie and hops up beside him on the cool tiles, intent on breaking through whatever barrier has sprung up between them.

His hands brush against the back of Eddie’s thigh as he settles on the counter and Eddie whips his head to Steve in surprise, but this time he gets the puzzling sense that it’s like Eddie can’t imagine Steve wanting to be physically close to him.

Steve wonders why that would shock Eddie so much. They had started a tentative friendship, hadn’t they, in the Upside Down? They had shared insecurities and glances of comradery, and silently agreed to protect Dustin as much as they could. They weren’t strangers, is what Steve’s getting at; the experience of the Upside Down was as intimate and bonding an experience as any war.

Maybe that’s how he should approach this, Steve muses, listening to Eddie’s tapping heel create a hollow sound on the blonde wood.

He had gained the best of friends by being honest on a gross bathroom floor the last go round. Perhaps presenting the truth as simply as possible will regain him Eddie’s trust.

“I won’t lie,” Steve promises, catching Eddie’s wide eyes.

“It was risky and pulling you back from the other world was a buzzer beater, even for me. But I don’t think you know what would have happened if you had died. There were so many people, Eddie, who were going to hurt. Who were never going to get over it. I could do this one thing, so I did.”

Eddie scoffs, looking down as he wears at his fingers around the rings, his skin starting to turn an irritated red. “Yeah, I don’t think the local freak disappearing is going to cause that much of a wave.”

“Eddie,” he grabs the other boy’s hand, ignoring the zap of warmth from their connection, the soft humming.

Eddie stills, but doesn’t look up.

“I know you don’t have much reason to have faith in what I can do but believe me when I say that I have the power to See this. And yeah, it would have hurt a lot of people. Dustin…”

Steve has to draw a breath to cover the anxiety he still feels over the tapestries he had unveiled. “Dustin would have been devastated.”

Steve watches Eddie’s lips quirk bitterly through the curtain of his dark hair, his black leather-clad shoulders almost as high as his ears. “Yeah, that shrimp doesn’t know any better,” he says.

“It’s not…” Steve cuts himself off, frustrated. “I’m not great with words, that’s Nance. But it wasn’t only Dustin, Eddie. I didn’t look far, but I Know that there are going to be people who love you so much that they don’t even realise the strength of your loss yet.”

Eddie's fingers tighten around his own and Steve belatedly realises that he’s been holding his hand this entire time. Still, Steve doesn’t drop it, thinking that maybe the connection between them is needed right now, to convey his sincerity.

It’s nice too, the feeling of warmth and affection shared in a simple touch. Other than Robin, it's rare that he has the opportunity to have skin-to-skin contact with anyone these days. At his heart of hearts, Steve is a tactile guy and it's just not the same as when he tousles Dustin's hair or pulls Max in for a side-hug. And, as much as he loves his mother, she never was the demonstrative type, even when he had seen her regularly.

“I think you’ve got a pretty great way with words, Stevie.” Eddie looks up at him from the corner of his one hazel eye, still looking a little tense but something was released with his words, Steve realises, relieved. The knot in his gut unclenching. Maybe being a Witch and deciding to change the tapestry of fate wasn’t going to stop him and Eddie from continuing to be friends.

Steve lets the responding lightness he feels fuel his answering smile, “Yeah, yeah. Don’t tell anyone, they think I’m an idiot. Don’t want to break the illusion.”

“I did too,” Eddie admits guiltily. “Before all this,” he waves his free hand in the air. “I thought you were some empty-headed jock who, while not the worse of the bunch, was certainly a member of the asshole brigade.”

Steve winces, “You weren’t far off.”

“Nah,” Eddie grins, leaning further into Steve's space to teasingly tug on a lock of his hair. He's so close that Steve can smell the warmth of Eddie's cologne and feel the subtle heat of his body.

For a moment, Steve’s breath catches and he’s not sure why.

Eddie seems oblivious as he continues talking, “Turns out you’re a good dude with a head and heart ready to save people. Even people you barely know.” The last of his sentence ends in a deep murmur while Eddie reflects on the bronze strands that he has effortlessly captured between his fingertips.

“Eddie?”

Eddie blinks, letting go to tug at the sable waves over his own ear. He holds up their joined hands. “You don’t mind this?”

“What, holding hands? Robin and I do it all the time.” Robin has a lot of opinions about what she describes as the overly moist and disgustingly warm parts of the human body, but she likes to hold hands just as much as Steve does. Sometimes they’ll watch a film, backs to the opposite ends of the couch but connected by a loose clasping of their fingers.

Eddie sneers, though Steve doesn’t think it’s directed at him. “Not afraid of catching something from the local queer?”

Steve blinks rapidly, trying to remember what that store owner had told him and Robin at their Indy visit. His gaze moves beyond the pale orange tiles that they sit on to the golden amber of the maple island across from them. Steve absently traces the wide space as he cautiously decides on his words.

Drawing on Robin's language and style from when Steve had shared a simliar admission, albeit with far less self-loathing, he shifts back to Eddie, trying to make his eye contact serious and free of judgement, "Thank you for telling me. I’m happy you felt you could share that with me.”

Even as he says the stilted words, Steve feels like an idiot; but his sincerity must have been felt by Eddie because the other man's shoulders drop along with his defensive layer. "Steve,” Eddie laughs. “What are you doing, man? You sound like Twiki.” He mocks Steve with a robotic bidi-bidi-bidi sound.

Steve bumps him with his shoulder in retaliation. “No! I just...” He groans, he really isn’t great with his words. “I have this friend,” he starts carefully. “And we visited this place for the first time last year.”

“Oh, no! Mystical traveller, you've trapped me in a maze of endless possibilities. What riddle do I need to answer to understand your wisdom?” Eddie cries out into the air, bringing both arms up in supplication, Steve’s arm wagging alongside him.

“No, shut up.” Steve keeps laughing, pulling their clasped hands down to rest on the counter between them, before Eddie shakes his whole arm off.

“It was a queer bookstore, and we were talking to the owner about how my friend told me they were gay, and Chris shared about when she outed herself. And it was terrible! Like really awful and she said all she had wanted was someone to tell her that it was okay.”

Eddie’s expression softens and his teasing smile quirks to the side. “That’s really sweet. You’re sweet, Harrington, aren’t you?”

Steve brightens with the compliment even as he rolls his eyes and jumps off the counter, letting go of Eddie as he does. Eddie lets him only to lean forward, elbows on knees, “Sweet little Harrington, looking after his lost lambs and saving the unrepentant satanist of the Hellfire Club.” His eyes are gleaming.

Steve points a bossy finger in his face, pulling it back before Eddie’s mock chomp connects. “Don’t make me regret it, Munson.”

“I think sweet little Stevie, you should just call me Eddie.”

Eddie sticks out his hand and, smiling, Steve shakes it in agreement.

“Oh wait!” Steve drops Eddie's hand, calling over his shoulder as he rushes away, “Wait right there, I’ll be back.”

“Okay.” Eddie sounds amused and a little bewildered.

Steve runs up the stairs two at a time and bursts into his room. Cleaned and folded on his dresser is Eddie’s vest.

He checks it one more time – there are some blood stains that he couldn’t remove from the blue denim for the life of him, but he hadn’t wanted to scrub too hard and wear out the material. He gives it the sniff test as well – smells fine, just like his laundry powder, though he thinks he may have accidentally gotten some of his hair spray on it too. It’ll be okay, Eddie won’t notice.

He runs down to present his offering to Eddie, who's idly drumming his heels against the cupboard again, although now he leans back on his hands while staring up at the ceiling.

Eddie casually glances down to Steve as he bounds into the kitchen, lighting up and quickly reaching forwards as he sees what's in his outstretched hands, “My battle vest.”

Eddie runs a ringed thumb over a dark patch. Steve thinks that the maroon colour could pass for the stain of red wine, but wonders whether Eddie prefers the aesthetic of blood instead — something far more aligned to his admiration for Steve tearing his teeth through that demo-bat.

Nevertheless, he apologises, “Yeah, sorry, I couldn’t get it all out.”

“Nah, it’s fine, Stevie. It’s Metal, right?” Eddie looks up, happy. “Thanks, this has a lot of memories for me. It would’ve sucked if it’d gotten lost.”

Steve feels that warm glow of having done the right thing. He reckons that he may have come out the other end of the Upside Down with another good friend after all.

If you liked anything, please consider leaving a comment over on Ao3 :-) It would make my day!

Taglist

My taglist is always open, so let me know if you want to be added. Likewise, if you want to be removed, let me know. :) If I've missed you, definitely tell me because it's an accident!

@a-gae-af-racoon

@a-lovely-craziness

@aly-reads-alot

@bookworm0690

@cinnamon-mushroomabomination

@ellietheasexylibrarian

@everyrandomthing

@finntheehumaneater

@geekymagicalpotato

@goodolefashionedloverboi

@hallucinatedjosten

@ilikeititspretty

@just-a-tiny-void

@ledleaf

@littlewildflowerkitten

@lostonceandneverfound

@manda-panda-monium

@matchingbatbites

@nburkhardt

@newtstabber

@obliosworld

@oliver-sykes

@platonicbesties4life

@probablyscreamingintothevoid

@rajumat

@scoops-stevie-archive

@spectrum-spectrum

@swimmingbirdrunningrock

@tartarusknight

@whackyrach

Edit: @mightbeasleep

#witchsteve #steddie #platonic stobin #stranger things #steve harrington #any unexplained references are detailed in chapter notes on Ao3 #eddie munson #paperbackribs writing

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