#*PROGRESSIVELY LOUD BELL NOISES*

[gorjee-art]

It happened slowly, yet steady. At first, it was memories and words that seemed to escape the lamb. Their thoughts ever circling softly, around their duty. Jokes and laughs became fewer. Joy and merriment seemed to disappear. It wasn't until they stopped to recognise their own name that they felt haunted by something ominous. A ceaseless pull towards ruin. A temple once divine laid barren and wasted. A single promise made... now forgotten. Nothing could have prepared them for the feeling of their own body becoming their tomb. Like a drop of water will hollow out a rock. It was a slow... yet stedy process. All the while, the one who waits... could just watch. A face who once inspired, frozen cold. Into a mask. Words that could sway your heart, now gibberish. Out of order. Their memories, once great comfort to one's mind... now a painful reminder of what has been lost.

Your art inspired me to a little writing and how I can't help to think of the agonising process of slowly losing yourself and for those around them. Kinda like dementia.

'Round the bedside, the soft velvet sinks where Narinder sits, head in hands lost in thought beside their leader. Laying bedridden, a haunting gaze sits glued on Lamb's face as they stare up at their tent, their crimson eyes tracing the golden trinkets and ornaments hanging adorned up above as if it was the night sky, clinking as they bumped into each other, twinkling as it reflects the soft glow of the sunlight peaking from tattered cloth. Many followers had come to peek at the tent to no avail, as the loyal disciple's cold tired stare told them everything that was needed to be known. The heat of the summer sun, the nauseating incense stained on everything, along the buzzing cicadas outside this blasted tent, were nagging at Narinder. What was meant to be a moment of solace, of peace, became an unbearable assault on his senses. He could feel his heart knocking at his ribs, pounding with the further progression of stress, with his wandering, wavering, mind. He felt as though he was going mad.

He pulled at his face, claws digging into his cheeks lightly parting heavy lids from his bloodshot eyes. Turning slowly to look at the lamb, only to quickly regret this choice, he choked a shivering groan and returned to his original position, eyes shut tight. Years. Thousands of years, of work, and knowledge of what was forbidden was required, knowledge that mortals could only dream of having, that they killed for. In the silent pits of the underworld, where the sands of time are eternal, he bided his time, to think, to learn, and observe the world that sat above him out of reach. With all this time...he still had no idea of what to do in this situation. No plan. Not a single clue. Of what was happening to someone he deems as a dear friend. He couldn't even stomach looking at them, grief was a feeling long forgotten in those years of solitude, and thinking of himself above such futile emotions was quickly proven wrong.

The noise of summer, the stench of blessings, the heat clawing at his skin...All too loud. Rising from the lavish silk beds, he desperately tried to calm his racing mind, clinging to his chest to slow his breathing. His eyes wide, full of madness and cindering rage, boiling beneath the surface. He became desperate for some fresh air, wiping the sweat from his face, disgusted once he felt the horrid matted and damp fur on his neck, his hand grasping at the entryway outside. Only for his prickled fur to rise, he hissed at the blasted bells as they clattered at the response of the harsh tug at the cloth. It was so loud, everything was so horribly loud, the noise could wake the dead, and then-

There was a laugh.

Narinder froze still. The sounds of nature became hushed. He blinks, and tries once more...to look at his leader. To see a smile and a face being buried in pillows, attempting to muffle an unknown sound. "Ita etiam, ego te slishu..."

"Lamb...?" He whispered to himself in a desperate plea, but there was no response. At least. Not to him. "Allo te," Lamb yawned in playful annoyance.

Gobsmacked, Narinder observed Lamb speaking in a dead language. It was soft but strained as if they just woke up from a gorgeous sleep. They rubbed their eyes, and lent out their hand, twiddling their fingers as if beckoning someone. Despite Narinder not understanding a single word of their gibberish, it was obvious that Lamb was cooing at an invisible creature. "Te vu stika? Mrow tü destrüir a te ura? Naglia sillabla..." They began lazily petting the air, clicking with their mouth. Narinder could somewhat understand what they were saying...something about...a silly animal? Disturbing their peace...? Or is it hour? His mind couldn't be trusted at this moment, but he knew what it was. The tongue of the lambs, it was ancient but it lived on in very few who conversed with the people. The culture was dying alongside the newborn god, but to see a glimpse of what can be considered a memory. Ached.

Lamb pulled their sheets aside and stood from their bed, stretching their arms, bones crackling. "No...What are you doing?" he hissed, "You're ill! Stop!"

But his pleas were ignored with furthering gibberish. "Uschia looh tge fas, Amir...Ego malavair gulae tuae spolia..." Lamb chuckled softly, reaching out for their precious shepherd's crook. "Tge qvai pensas habere prandium.? Uovs?" the crook's bells jingle softly as if a warm greeting. Lamb lightly bats the wooden crook against their temple, gently attempting to wake themselves up for the "morning". Narinder shook his head in disbelief, hoarsely whispering "Please" and "Lie down" in a hellish loop as Lamb began singing, clumsily opening the "door" with no knob, passing through the cloth and into the village. Haunted by the image, his claws shook, he saw what might be the last of the lamb's understanding. Staring into nothing, he felt his chest tighten hearing the hushed horrified gasps of the followers outside. He didn't know the language, but he knew that song, the song that every lamb knew, and sang in their tongue before their deaths.

"Oh the Joy, We dance our lives till Spring." "Oh the Joy, The roads are gone, but I've stayed." " There is no Morning Star, There is no Morning Star." " Lo, a burning light appears, Hope is burning bright and near." "I work my day, to feed and pray." "Sleep the night, I dream of love." "Oh, my mountains and valleys." "Protect this land from harm."

They've sung it straight from the heart.

...followers were inspired.

[simplymarr]

Chapter five.

warnings: +18 smut; fingering, penetration, kinda praise kink?

notes: FINALLY i was so nervous but excited to write this. i know some of you were waiting for this so this chapter is long af. enjoy.

Head buzzing. Cheeks still warm. Heart racing.

As i went to bed that night i couldn't stop thinking about it. That kiss. My skin still shivered just thinking about his touch. His hands cupping my cheeks, his warm lips against mine.

He'd be the death of me.

One side of me was completely mad about him, and the other side was just as concerned.

What would we do now? What if someone found out? My heart almost hammering in my chest as i thought of my classmates' faces if they found out. I didn't want them to think i was trying to seduce him to get my thesis done, i didn't need to do that. I wasn't that kind of person, and he knew it. Or i least that was what i expected.

Thursday morning was already slamming at my door. All my thoughts still rambling through my head as i entered the classroom, and then there he was.

Formal but simple clothes as always, his hair always in-between of being put together and decontracted, his characteristic front strands fell on his forehead.

He looked at me stealthily among all the people during all class, and i could sense that he was thinking about it too.

As the bell rang, always at 10 am, i hessitated. Should i go and talk to him? should i go? All my doubts vanished as i saw him slowly walking towards me, as he was doing time while all those people left the place. Hands in his pants pockets and a side smile. Oh my fucking god.

"Hey".

"Hey".

Silence; the tension almost intoxicating the two of us. He broke it first:

"Listen, i was thinking about last tuesday and-"

"You don't have to worry about it, you know?" I said, stopping him mid-sentence. "You're my professor, i'm your student, it's all clear". My tone trying to sound convincing as if we didn't just made out in his car two days ago. Obviously, it wasn't that clear.

He smirked confidently, looking at me. "I know that".

I looked at him quite confused; Was he the same man that acted all nervous an hessitant last week? Didn't he care at all?

"Well, okay then".

"I've read your progress on the thesis, it's going very well" he continued like nothing happened, though i sensed some tension in his tone. "Though I have made some corrections starting from page fifteen that i would like you to look at".

"Oh, okay." I didn't even know what to say. "I will look at it when i get home then".

I looked at him, batting my eyelashes nervously as he kept watching me stoic, almost analyzing my movements.

Then, all of the suden, he grabbed me from behind my neck with both hands and pushed me against a near wall where nobody that would enter the room could see us. He kissed me hungrily, breathing heavily due to the fast movement that he had recently made. I responded quickly, closing my eyes and grabbing him from behind his neck as his hands traveled from my own neck to my waist, bringing me closer to him. Our mouths devoured each other, this kiss was not like the previous one. This was a hungry, sinful one, as if neither him or i could wait any longer. As if we both knew that all this could only bring trouble.

Heat starting to fill my body and his when suddenly a loud noise echoed the space, like a door slamming in the distance, not the one in this room but it felt like it.

We both broke the kiss in a heartbeat as a instinct reaction. Chests coming up and down quickly, eyes filled with unsatisfied hunger.

"I want to see you again". I whispered to him. If it was still a bit of shame left in me, it was already gone.

"Would you like to come home? you could bring all your drafts"

I laughed at his innocent proposition, given to what just had happened.

"I would love to" I said, smiling at him.

"8 pm is alright? I could pick you up if you want"

I looked at him, smiling nervously.

"What? it's not like you haven't been in my car before" He said, with a smirk.

I laughed and gave him a playful hit on his arm. "8 pm is just fine".

He smiled, quite hessitant. I could sense that he was just as nervous as me.

I mean, the damage was already done, right?

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

Nighttime had already come beneath us as he parked outside his house. A big, but modest one. Light grey walls and big windows, now covered by dark blue curtains.

The inside felt very cozy; warm lights, a round, wooden table at one side with a brownish sofa and big book shelfs.

A few wall paintings and a wine cellar from where he picked a bottle and two wine glasses. I looked at him almost blushing at the whole situation.

He was wearing a grey sweater and dark jeans, a bit more casual than what he'd wear at class. Silver hair perfect as always, the lines forming in his mouth as he smiled and handed me the filled glass.

"Thank you". Our fingers touching so slightly as i took the glass. He sat besides me at the sofa.

"Well, how did you do?. He said as he pointed at the drafts and papers on my hands.

"Pretty well, i would say. What do you think?" I handed him the papers as he put his glasses on.

He observed them in silence with a hand in his chin as i looked him with doubt. He chuckled to himself as he read them.

"What?" I said, opening my eyes to him.

"You are very incisive" He said in a playful tone, french accent dripping deliciously onto each word.

"I thought you already knew that".

He smirked as i continued: "Takes one to know one, right?"

The warm, subtle lights carressing his features as he drank the red wine.

"What makes you think that?"

"It just seems that you always know what you want".

He stayed in silence and sat closer to me. One hand on the sofa backreast, behind me. I continued:

"Do you?". Maybe it was the wine, already starting to hit on my words, or the way his eyes looked darker in the night. He smiled softly at me.

"I don't always know, no" I looked at him over my eyelashes, silence echoed the room as he continued. "But i think i know what i want just now".

He carressed my cheek with his fingers, the touch so tender but intoxicating. I needed his touch, his mouth on me again. I couldn't wait any longer.

"Vincent" His name coming out of my mouth as a pathetic moan as i begged to him. "Please, kiss me"

"How could i ever refuse?"

He then broke any remaining tension grabbing gently my cheeks and kissing me deeply. Slowly this time, as we had the night to ourselfs. He tasted like the sweet red wine we just drank and so was i. His perfume smelled, in fact, like a classic one. Wooden but not too harsh, just perfect on his skin My fingers ran into his silver hair as we kept deepening the kiss, both now lying down the sofa.His warm tongue intertwined with mine as his hands ran through my waist and i could feel the heat coming down my body.

He broke the kiss, heavy breathing as he whispered near my mouth.

"Are you okay with this?"

I nodded at him and attempted to kiss him again but he insisted:

"I don't want you to do anything you're not comfortable with, baby"

My entire body shivered just hearing the petname coming out of his mouth and his tenderness at each moment made me feel secure.

"I need you, Vincent. Please" My words coming out as weak whispers as my head buzzed, i needed his touch more than anything in that moment. His eyes getting darker as he was hearing me beg. He lifted me up softly in his arms and carried me into his bedroom.

The room was dark as only the weak, pale moonlight entered through a window besides de big kingsize bed. We were standing at the edge of the bed as i could feel my cheeks getting warmer and warmer under his touch. His hands slowly taking up my shirt as he stared with devotion at my body. His eyes wandered at each mole and each mark. Then he slowly kneeled in front of me, leaving a trail of gentle kisses down my stomach. He looked at me from below with greedy eyes.

"Can i?" He whispered to me, touching the button of my jeans. I nodded slowly as he began undoing them. My body now covered only by black lace underwear and bra.

"Mon Dieu" He whispered, still on his knees. "You're beautiful".

I carresed his chin with my hand as he stoop up slowly, without breaking eye contact.

"Now it's my turn" I said, as i took his sweater and the rest of his clothes off.

His skin soft and warm as we kept kissing deeply on his bed, the air so intoxicating as his touch. Wet kisses on my neck and collarbones. His hand slowly playing with the hem of my panties as i cursed under my breath.

"What's the problem, dear?" He whispered in my ear with a cheeky tone.

"Vincent, please"

"Give me words and i'll give you what you want" His fingers almost touching my aching flesh.

"Touch me, please" My words almost tripping.

He smiled and ran his fingers into me, playing with my clit as i left out a pathetic whimper.

"Merde, you're so fucking wet" He whispered to my ear as he kept touching every fold. He then slid two fingers into me, almost making me lose all reason.

"Oh, Vincent" I kept moaning his name, my core aching under his touch as i could feel his bulge growing against my leg.

"Yes, chérie?

"Please, fuck me." I begged to him, leaving all sense of shame behind. I needed him so badly, like i never needed anybody.

"I love it when you say my name like that" He said as he slid my panties down my legs and freed himself from his own underwear, his big length against my stomach as he pumped himself a few times.

He then stretched out an arm to reach the drawer of the nightstand from where he picked a condom. His firm body glistening as he put it on and then positioned himself between my legs, grabbing them firmly.

He sank into me slowly and i could feel every inch inside me, his head resting on the crook of my neck. He stayed still for a moment, feeling me warm against him.

" Putain. You feel so fucking good" He said as he began thrusting me, slowly picking up a pace.

My nails against his back as i could feel him so big inside me, my head buzzing as i heard the sinful sounds of his thrusts getting more wet and more sloppy.

"Fuck, Vincent" my moans getting more and more out of control. "Keep going, please".

He smiled and then bit my lower lip. "You're taking me so fucking well, baby"

Then he rolled me over the bed. My face now against the pillow as he began thrusting me from behind, hands grabbing my waist as he fucked me deeper and faster.

"You're being such a good girl. Just look at you"

I turned my face so i could see him while he kept fucking me, his silver strands of hair falling into his glistening forehead and his eyes dark and seductive. I started feeling pleasure waves getting bigger and bigger, my core aching for a release.

"Fuck, i really want to ride you" I whispered to him as i could, with half my face still resting on the pillow.

He smiled at me and slid himself out. I whimpered instinctively at sudden lack of contact.

"Go on, then. Show me how good you can fuck me" He said as he lied on the bed.

I climbed on top and sank into his length slowly, almost painfully slowly. My eyes pierced at his as i did it.

"Putain, tu vas me faire jouir" He moaned, almost cursing, under his breath.

My movements took a faster and faster pace as i felt closer to my orgasm. He grabbed firmly my breasts as i went up and down, playing with my sensitive nipples.

"Oh, God. Vincent, i'm gonna cum"

"Go on, chérie. Go on and cum all over me".

My body trembled as i felt closer and closer, i tried to close my eyes but he stopped me.

"No, no. Don't do that. Look at me, i want to see your pretty eyes"

Those words sending me even closer as i felt my orgasm reaching every part of my body, trying to keep my eyes opened. His eyes filled with magnetic lust.

"Fuck, Vincent" I moaned with the little energy i had left as he pushed himself one last time, cumming inside me.

"C'était tellement bon, chérie" He whispered into my ear as i lied on the bed besides him, totally surrendered by his words. I loved it when he'd speak to me in french.

He gently kissed me on the forehead as he put his arms around me. My head resting on his chest as we instantly fell asleep in the still warm bed.

next chapter soon

[unstablegoldfish]

[Your Gentle Comfort] 18+

Story Summary: Your interest in boys didn’t really exist in your life. It wasn’t because you were against romance, but mainly for the fact that all the boys in your school were— well, boys. It wasn’t until you met your new teacher and had a relationship growing with him that you realized, you wanted a man.

A New Face - Chap 1

set in 2012

Joel Miller x F!reader - Teacher x F!Student

Warning: AGE GAP: After all it is a highschool student x teacher. Light swearing. Slow burn story. [More will be added as the story progresses. Also please be aware this is my first time writing a fic so the story will come out slower and may not be to tip top shape, I’ll try my best!!]

Word Count: 2.4k

Chapter 2 -> Click here!

Summary: You’ll be starting your last year of high-school. Even though you’re expecting same old, it seems things might have a change when a new face appeared causing changes in your mind set.

———————————————————————————————————————

Summer came and went, and suddenly you were back to your old routine. Wake up, eat something, brush your teeth. Whatever. You swore you could do it all with your eyes closed.

You’d leave to walk to school shortly and it was the only thing you seemed actually happy doing. Minus the go to school part. You always used this time to let your thoughts wander and let music play, it was your way to show strangers that you had no interest in the simple “Hello.” or “Good morning!” said to you on your walk. It’s not that you disliked them, but more for your self isolation you try to keep while moving.

Upon arrival you can see some past friends of yours entering the school doors. Memories of the group flash through your head. They come to a stop when you notice a man you’re unfamiliar with. It was a small school, so you were pretty sure you knew the names of every student and teacher, assuming he was one.

Walking though the halls was always difficult. People loved to stop and chat, but unfortunately for them they’d deal with the consequences that you’d like to show them. You’d plow past them without thinking. You simply didn’t care. You just wanted to come in and out, go home and rest. School was all too much.

You make it to your first class which happened to be learning about the English Language. As if you needed to learn more about it. You then found a seat next to a friend, you glimpse over at the teachers desk. It was the unfamiliar face from before. You’re left curious.

Whilst looking at him, he looked at you too. A smile grew on his face as he nodded his head. Some sort of male greeting you supposed and returned the greeting with a small wave.

“Do you know who he is?” You lean over and whisper to your friend. Seems he wasn’t paying attention to you. Headphones on and though he was physically in the room, mentally? Hell no. You didn’t mind being ignored, you were close enough friends and knew this was a usual occurrence he presented you with. But this time curiosity got the better of you and decided to get his attention.

“Hey, you there?” as you tap his shoulder. He looks up at you confused. He lifts a speaker from his ear.

“Do you know who Mr.NewGuy is?”. He glances at the unknown figure and back at you. Shrugs his shoulders and continues on with whatever world he was in before. Oh well. I guess you’d have to be patient to find out in the next 5 minutes.

Glancing around you notice the room was pretty empty, there wasn’t any posters on the wall or a bookshelf that’s been usually covered in clutter. Just a desk and an assortment of little trinkets that this new teacher must’ve used as decoration. Your favourite was a small sheep figurine. How bizarre.

The bell had rung and it was the cue to start class. The sudden noise of chalk on the board was loud and squeaky as the unfamiliar man had wrote his name on the board.

“Mr. Miller.”

It had a ring to it. It was definitely more solid then the names you’re used to such as: Mrs. Densworth and Mr. Cosby.

“Hello students, If it wasn’t already clear I am you’re new english teacher and I’ll be guiding you through this semesters class.” He seemed confident that he knew how to settle a class. You turned your head and noticed that he had everyone’s attention. He now holds the title of being interesting, to you at least.

“Subjects you’ll be learning are going to be very basic. So I expect top tier work. Some of the topics are; creative writing, composition and your favourite, properly formatted arguments.” The sound of devastation rose in the class.

English being one of your favourites you were eager to see how this would play out. Knowing the stuff you wrote about you were interested to hear Mr.Millers thoughts on your work and see if he truly was a big deal. He presented himself as one, so you crossed your fingers.

“Each morning I’ll be selecting a prompt and I’ll give you some time to write what you think. I’m expecting you all to have paper and pencil by tomorrow.” He gave his explanation clear. Even though this was just a normal routine of things, you couldn’t help but think about the way his voice sounded in your ears. The strict tone made you shiver…you didn’t mind it. You decided to have the upper hand and pull out your notebook and pencil. Show him you were already on top of things.

You could tell he noticed, by the way you looked up and caught eyes.

“Or some of you can already be prepared. I’m in shock.” he let out a soft chuckle and gave u a smirk.

“Anyhow, for the rest of the this class, I’ll be going over some expectations.” He continued to talk but you had zoned out. You just gazed at him while he walked from one end of the board to the other. He was making sure he presented himself loud and clear to the class by making eye contact, but for whatever reason his eyes seemed drawn to yours. Like a magnet. They lasted on you way longer than the rest.

The man only continued to walk, this time past each desk. You felt nervous as he drew closer towards yours. He passes and just from that you got a smell of his cologne. It was nice. Nothing over powering from what you were used to. The males at your school were quite stupid when it came to cologne or deodorant for that matter.

He broke up a conversation in the back and made his way up the rows of desks. He then resumed his rules and what he’d expect from this class. As much as you wanted to float off into the intoxicating thoughts of this new teacher, you still wanted good marks so you tried your best to focus. However the idea of focusing was unimaginably difficult when he kept looking at you with soft eyes.

The bell soon rung, and everyone was gathering their things to get ready for their next class.

“Alright, I’ll see you all tomorrow. Again, you all better have paper and a pencil” he said while most people rushed out, you waited for the scurrying to settle.

Standing next to you he whispers “Thank you for being prepared.” He gave a smile, and you returned it while walking towards the door.

Before you left for good, you made sure to give him one more glance before you left. Your friend appears at your side and started speaking. “Um…Was it just me or was he eyeing you up all class?” his voice filled with concern.

“Who?” You knew he was clearly talking about Mr.Miller, but you wanted him to think you were clueless.

“The goddamn teacher?! He was eyeing you up like you were his next meal. Shit are you ever clueless.” He sighed. But you only began to laugh.

“I don’t know, maybe he was just trying to engage with the class. Don’t look so deeply into things” you sighed. But your friend just stared at you raising an eyebrow.

“Whatever, I’ll see you when I see you.” You walked off to find your way to the cafeteria, this would be your break to do studying in the near future. But for now a snack to fill the time will do. You stood in line, only to see Mr.Miller walk by in the hallway locking eyes again. You looked straight down at the floor. This time It was different when it was unexpected. Flicked by reality you order what you wanted and found a spot to sit and wait.

Your mind starts processing all the information that just happened. A teacher was looking at me…not just looking but STARING. It didn’t really bother you in the way it maybe should have. You just believed that you were looking into it too deeply just like your friend. Your words had a point and you should stick to them.

The bell finally sang its song and you were making it to your next class that Mrs.Densworth would be teaching. You knew this class was going to suck, after all math wasn’t really your forte. Rather than engaging your focus to the words she was saying you drifted off staring at the clock and watched it move forward. One. Tic. At. A. Time. Your thoughts trailed off into other things, those things lead to other thoughts, then those thoughts lead to him. Mr.Miller. Rather than just his voice and the power he seemed to uphold, it was his appearance. His brown greyish hair from the top of his head that made its way down to his face. The thought of his whole physique gave you butterflies. He was built to withstand a zombie apocalypse. If he had to, he’d be able to keep you safe.

Your thoughts cut off by the noise of an irritating voice.

“Hello?? Anyone home??” You realize that Mrs.Densworth was calling your name for the past minute. Everyone staring at you confused.

“Oh, my apologies. What’s the issue?” You swore when you reached to your mouth you were drooling.

“Just for attendance.” She simply replied.

You felt embarrassed, face hot, sweaty palms. You didn’t like when you lost focus like that. But it was hard not to. Especially when you remembered the white button up shirt he wore that had rolled up sleeves, they showed of his forearms, they were thick and powerful… Shit trailing off again.

After writing a few notes down and getting some information for the class it was already time to leave. The day was moving fast and you weren’t complaining. As you walked your eyes were kept wide in order to see your gloomy friend. Unfortunately once traveling through most of the school he was no where to be found. Maybe you’d shoot him a text. No reply.

You didn’t really have many friends in school. Your one male friend was only half a dumbass and didn’t annoy you much so he was safe to stick around. If you were talking to a younger version of yourself right now, she’d be so surprised to know you have a male friend. You always found them a little disgusting or annoying.

You headed to the cafeteria just like you did for second block, only this time for lunch. Being borderline friendless didn’t matter much to you. You didn’t want to waste the time talking about … feelings.

You unpacked your lunch, a green salad and a dish of dressing. You swore the lettuce had mold on it and immediately you lost your appetite. God how old was this stuff? Knowing you now had no lunch upset you a little, but it is what it is.

After re-packing your lunch you sat and listened to music. However, not too loud because you still wanted to hear the conversations some people were having so you could keep up with school drama. Sometimes you’d be able to hear it, sometimes not. As creepy as it sounded you liked just being on the outskirts just so you could watch how people acted. It was somehow fascinating. Though, the parts where they started jumping on chairs and tables wasn’t so interesting. It was down right stupid. If your friend had joined you right now, you knew the two of you would’ve been laughing so hard over it all.

“Animals.” you heard a voice and a chuckle with it. Turning your head it was Mr.Miller. “Hi, sorry if I’m interrupting.” His voice sounded softer. You didn’t expect the man looking as tough as he did before to grow more calm.

“No, not at all.” You remove your earbuds, curious as to what he has to say. He ends up just walking past you and towards the group of animals. The strict tone of his voice reappears

“Get down. I can’t believe you high school students still have to be told how to respect things.” He shouted. The conversations of the room went quiet. There it was again, the shiver sent down your spine from his voice. You somehow loved the way he could silence a room. Not only that, but a room that gave you slight annoyance when they got crazy.

He walks back over to you and conversation from before turned to whispers.

“Sorry— I guess I have two jobs, teaching a class and trying to tell people how to behave.” he let a small smile linger. “Anyways, I was going to ask you for your name.”

Curious as to why, but you told him it anyways.

“Great! Nice to meet you, I only ask so I can use you as an example tomorrow in class. You seem to have your sh- stuff— together.” He gives you a smile and that nod again. Then disappears behind the door.

Your brain started to malfunction trying to assess everything. First, he comes to you randomly and speaks to you softly, then goes into his harsh voice again to break up the wildlife, just to come back and ask your name in a calm manner. This man had heavy emotion control. But you did catch some of it spilling out when he stuttered his words.

I’ve got my stuff together hey?

Just like that the final bell rung. You were so eager to get home to sleep. You found yourself outside walking down the sidewalk. Looking towards the road, you saw him. Windows rolled down and hair blowing with the air. Mr.Miller. You let out a chuckle for yourself because you thought he looked really funny. You wondered if he thought he was in some action movie.

You made it home. Instantly crashing on your bed. It was time to finally rest your brain from this wild rollercoaster day. It was like you spent a whole hot summer day at the zoo.

But as much as your wanted your brain to rest. Mr.Miller was the only thing keeping it moving. Only after a day of seeing this new man, you had already thought of the unthinkable.

You questioned what it would be like to feel his touch.

Was this a crush?

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Proud of you!! You made it to the end!! I have no thoughts right now but by the fact I called a bunch of energized teenagers “Wildlife”. Yes I’m currently laughing at my own wording. I’m so sorry. Anyways!!! I hope you liked the story! Please do not hesitate to send me any questions or comments :)) I appreciate it all!! Also tips on writing is also appreciated :,) unless what I did was good no idea :,) MORE TO COME!!!

Taglist: @wrathofcats

[abubblingcandle]

🌹🌹🌷🌹🌹 anything for The Richmond Job? If not a snippet, any fun ideas? (See because I snuck a tulip in. Because one of them’s a grifter)

There's so much so much I wanna share of this but then I don't want to spoil stuff or get people hyped for stuff that's like ... 150k into the story at least lol!

One of the things I am trying to do is build in some Ted Lasso plot points as well but for a heist crew not a football team lol. One of those is Ch24 which is based loosely on the Three Card Monte job and loosely on Man City. Jamie's dad has spent the whole first 23 chapters in prison for taking the fall for a mob hit in Manchester when Jamie was 15 ... but he's just got out and needs a hacker for a job to get back into favour. Ted knows some details about Jamie's dad from various conversations but no one else does. So when he comes back Jamie is trying to keep everyone out of his reach but also not regress all the progress he has made.

Now I thought I had written some of this ... but turns out I just did that in my head and all I had done was put these three scene headings in the plot spreadsheet

... so I've written a bit of it now

Ted was wiping down one of the tables when a echoing cackle crackled through the pub. “Good lad, good lad,” the man laughed patting Colin on the back as he placed a tray of chips and a pint in front of him. Ted was on edge. This was a pub of course there were going to be drunk patrons and this man looked no different to any of the others. He was portly, probably in his fifties with wirey grey hair that was too long to be fashionable but not long enough to be a style. His leather jacket was too big on him and he dug into the chips like a man starved. But that was no crime. Ted got back to wiping down the tables. “Tell me lad. You worked here long?” the man’s voice was just a touch too loud to be ignored even with the noise of the other patrons. “Yeah a few years now,” Colin replied with a shrug, stacking glasses on his arm. “Ah so you’ll know the locals then. Cause I ain’t been around for a while and heard ont grapevine and all that about an old pal of mine coming here an awful lot,” the man rambled, arms waving like he was using the chip as a baton to conduct an orchestra. “You ain’t heard of a James Tartt around these parts have ya?” he asked. Colin’s face paled and the stack of cups on his arm nearly went clattering to the floor. Ted leapt into action. “Jamie, you listening?” Ted hissed, tapping the earpiece. “Huh, am now,” Jamie’s voice echoed in his head. “I think the guy here that they are meeting is also looking for you,” Ted stated and then slid up next to Colin as Jamie was rattling off concerns a mile a minute through the earpiece. “Colin, you feeling alright lad? I’ll take over here,” Ted beamed, nodding to the man and guiding Colin away. “Stay out of his way,” Ted hissed and then pushed Colin into the kitchen. “Sorry there sir. Colin isn’t feeling too swell. Can I get you anything?” Ted smiled, slipping behind the bar to stand across from the mystery man. “Yeah, asking around for a lad that’s been seen around these parts. James Tartt ring any bells for ya,” the man asked, one eyebrow raised. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fucking hell. Ted do not engage. Ted listen get out of there do not do anything until I get there,” Jamie squeaked, voice an octave higher than Ted had ever heard it before. So Jamie knew the guy … good to know.

[princetofbone]

Summer Studying Tips

As it around the time schools get out for summer, I wanted to share some tips I’ve learned over my many years of doing summer math homework and writing essays for various purposes. I’ve done this enough to know that there are really fucking painful ways to do it and ways that don’t suck nearly as much. Lets get cracklakin!

Timing:

- Ideally you should start early. This post is happening at the start of summer because you should start your studying at the beginning of summer. I like to organize my workload in a bell curve for maximum rest and least amount of cramming at the end. This means that you are starting the summer with a smallish amount of work (to rest and do fun things to reset from the schoolyear), and doing more and more every day as the summer progresses (helps stave off boredom and gets things done), and then start doing less to re-rest yourself so you can be fresh and ready for the next year. All of this while still being finished with no need to cram a bunch of work in at the end of the summer.

- While this is a different aspect of “timing” it is, in my opinion, more important.  Have a set time (or many set times you rotate between) to do your summer work. Make sure this time is not when other people are going to be inviting you to things or when you can hear or see people outside doing fun things. For me, this means at four or five in the morning. I wake up and get as much done as I can before six, then have the rest of the day to relax without worrying about  having to do anything. This method was practically beaten into me, so I kinda hate it, but I can tell my father to go fuck himself and still use tools he forced upon me. I know many people who only work at noon because they like sitting outside in the morning sun and they hang out with friends in the evening. Overall for this one, just make sure that the time you pick isn’t a time where you typically do something because the worst feeling in the world is fomo while studying- it kills nay and all motivation.

Location:

I feel like every study tips post known to man says something or rather about how important location is- and it is super important! Like super super important! but no-one talks about why it is so important. And that good locations for studying depend on who you are and how you do work. I personally struggle to work in cafes because I can hear people talking and I’m nosey as hell. I have friends who can’t work in libraries because the quiet + book noises freaks her out. I can’t work in my kitchen because its nearly impossible for me to focus there. the main things I think about before I try working in a new space are 

1) how loud will it be

2) what kind of noise will it be

3)have I spent time there before doing something else (that my mind will want to do more than study)

4) is it somewhere I have the space to study + internet

5) will I run into someone I know

6) can I be there a decently long amount of time without paying/not paying very much?

7) what is the temperature like

8) what is the likelihood of a kids club showing up

obviously these criteria are different for each person, but they might be a good jumping off place- because it is summer and most kids are getting out of school, avoiding places that will be overrun with them is probably a good idea. In addition, make sure to settle down in a place that is a comfortable temperature and a place where the temp wont fluctuate too much.

Motivation:

I think overall this is the most important thing to keep in mind. It doesn't matter how well you plan out when and where you will be doing your work, it is hell to do if you don’t want to do it. 

I’m not going to tell you to love your subject, but if it is something that you don't like, that feels pointless, and you think it has absolutely no impact on your future, it’s going to be a nightmare to get done. I have no tips for you if you are in this situation.

If you don’t want to do it because it is annoying, but it’s a necessary class that you need to take, that works great! put on some fun music and force yourself to do it. It will suck but if it is part of your major or in any way connected to something you like or are passionate about, follow those connections. For example, I was in this awful writing class last semester. The teacher was bad and there was nothing really to be learned. it was a class i had to take solely for the credits. I decided that I was going to be obnoxious and write every damn essay about corsetry and the patriarchy. I swear to got I have 80 pages of writing about the damn subject. I should be publishing a book at this point. (I was one of my favorite classes that semester bc I had so much fun with the topic)

If you don’t want to do it because it’s hard, buckle up and open khan academy and YouTube. nearly every subject known to man is covered in some level on those two sites, and if that fails, find an alternate textbook to the one you have and see if having two perspectives makes it make sense. 

If it’s something you want to do but just cant force yourself to do and you’ve been scrolling for hours, go brush your teeth, change clothes or take a shower and start trying to do your work somewhere new.

I hope one of these helped, and if you have more ideas/tips pls let me know bc I’m writing this to procrastinate on my own summer work.

[bereft-of-frogs]

friday! and a nice friday too, the sun is out and everything!

books:

(finished) This Wretched Valley - Jenny Kiefer: I maintain this would have been better/scarier if they had been good at their jobs lol, like I said last week. Like imagine how scarier if you're doing everything right and still can't escape and slowly realize there's some*thing* keeping you in the wilderness? Personal preference.

(finished) (phone book) Into the Dark - Claudia Gray: You know, I didn't love this one as much as I did on the first pass a couple years ago. A weird opinion shift: I really don't like Cohmac haha. I remember liking him before and this time I'm like...no you can't have custody of Reath, I don't like you. Ok, that's...not the most mature book critique but still. I wish either Jora hadn't died or Dez or Orla had taken custody of Reath :( But it does make me consider giving Midnight Horizon a second chance, because my opinions shifted so much, maybe the opposite will happen with that one. Or maybe I'll just be able to further justify my Cohmac dislike.

(in-progress) (phone book) The Rising Storm - Cavan Scott: Bell is back! I missed Bell and Ember. Not too far in yet but at least I am back on track. I feel like this is where things start getting sadder which makes me happy (sorry Bell) :)

(in-progress) The Hobbit - JRR Tolkien: I'm like 30 pages from the end lol, I only read this while I have my morning coffee, just to explain why it's taken me like three weeks to read a 250 page children's book.

tv:

(finished) Anthracite (Netflix): What an insane amount of subplots for 6 EPISODES?? Either Netflix needed to greenlight like...4x as many episodes or once they got their budget the writers needed to cut like half the subplots and tighten up focus. I'm still honestly reeling. It did do a good job getting you to care about the main characters despite all the insane plot stuff. Also this was weird: like 90% of it was really well shot, and then randomly there would be a scene that looked like it was shot by someone in high school. I don't know if they had to go back in for reshoots or what but occasionally it was like oof that's not good.

(finished) Baby Reindeer (Netflix): Everyone was talking about this so I had to check it out. It's very intense. Is it bad I found the comedy shows were the hardest scenes to watch, despite everything else?

(in-progress) Under the Bridge (Hulu): Seems like sort of a standard mystery but I'm really just here for Riley Keough and Lily Gladstone and the moody vibes and so far am satisfied.

(in-progress) Constellation (AppleTV+): Nice little bit of unreality/space horror so far. I actually got got by a couple scenes, I'm so desensitized to horror that it's nice when I actually get creeped out by something (the ARM in the second episode!!). Looking forward to seeing where this is going, judging by the first two episodes, seems like my pet conspiracy theory (the Lost Cosmonaut theory) is getting a high budget AppleTV adaptation, never thought I'd see the day. Also I got kind of hyped about the Canadarm cameo in the first episode. The shot panned over the space station and I out loud shouted 'it's the Canadarm!', startling the cat

film:

The Apology (2022): Apparently this was the only movie I watched this week, it was ok, mostly just background noise for making lunch/writing. I wish it had leaned more comedic, which is not something I usually say but I think it would have fit if they'd committed to making a really dark horror-comedy rather than flipping between predictable melodrama and some pretty funny catharsis.

craft update: I am free of the tyranny of having to purl! I joined up the two sides of my sweater so I'm knitting in the round now yay! It turned out I didn't have a problem with needle size, the whole thing did fit on one circular needle so now we're cooking with gas.

to do:

finish the work day. ick. but depending on how long it takes me to get through actual work, I can probably get some writing done too

laundry, both clothes laundry on my lunch hour (now) and sheets/towels at my parents'

I'm through 8 out of 12 chapters of current wip! Unfortunately chapter 9 is SO action-focused. why did I do this to myself. I mean I know why because then chapter 10 gets to be angsty but damn I have to block out so many action scenes. why.

I ordered a filing cabinet. it arrived. most of the negative reviews were about how hard it was to put together. so I should put 'assemble filing cabinet' on this list but I think 'let filing cabinet percolate' is a more realistic entry

I might go to a local yarn store on my way up to my parents' tomorrow, because it's local yarn store day and I do not need any more stitch markers but BUT I want more stitch markers. don't @ me I know I have plenty of stitch markers.

pick a new book: I'm torn between giving Kill Show another shot, starting the other book I have checked out of the library (The Deep Sky) or a secret third thing

have a good weekend everyone!

[goldenponcho]

You Can Lead a Castellan to Water…

Chapter 8: Confession

Gail had not been wrong in thinking her family had already gotten the authorities involved. In fact, her mother had been quite quick in alerting the police after Gail’s boss had informed her that her daughter hadn’t shown up for work on the previous Monday. That had been three days after her capture the preceding Friday. Honestly, it was one more reason to hang tight where she was. She was quite certain she had burned a bridge with her previous job now that she was going with the narrative that she had just…left. THAT would be hard to explain away.

But despite the clear worry, stress, and anger she had caused her mother, she had been, more than anything, relieved to hear that her daughter was safe, well, and taken care of. That certainly helped in convincing her that she had merely left in a hurry and previous attempts at contacting anyone had fallen through. It was a farfetched story, but not entirely impossible and so was just believable enough.

Now, she was growing somewhat accustomed to life in the castle. The zealots and servants had become background noise, blending in the right along with the ancient statues and shrewd oil paintings that surrounded her.

And meals with Ramon were an everyday occurrence, with a midday meeting when he would be caught up on current progress, often giving her an errand or two to run, where she would usually be paired with Pesanta or on a couple of occasions Isidro. She became surprisingly accustomed to both their presences too. She was even getting better at understanding their body language and what some of the noises they made meant.

Ramon was growing used to the new schedule as well, and though they would have their disagreements, he was happy to have the company. Certainly, he continued to be wary of Gail’s true intentions and aware that she was secretive about her true origins, but he couldn’t help but wish for the best possible outcome. He truly was quite fond of her.

It had been over two weeks now since Lord Saddler had put her in his care, and if all went according to plan, he would have two fully functioning and fully refurbished rail systems by the end of the day. He had already taken the time to plan several more future projects for her so long as Lord Saddler allowed him to keep her.

He thanked her skill again as the cart whisked him quite smoothly and quickly to the audience hall. He honestly did not miss all the walking.

As the tram ground to a halt, he was shaken from his thoughts by the echo of a strange sound in a nearby room. A sort of… buzzing, perhaps? Surely the Novistadors hadn’t escaped from the sewer… What in hell’s bells WAS that?

It grew a bit louder as he entered the audience hall, now sounding more like a loud, metallic racket, and he was met with a sight that might have struck him as funny if he weren’t so baffled already. Several zealots paced back and forth near the stairway that lead to the other rail system, coming in and out, clearly confused by the sound, desperate to find a solution but clueless as to where to even start.

He neared the corridor to the stairs, watching the rabble run back and forth past each other, the ones at the top standing at the closed door looking very much like a flock of curious birds.

Ramon sighed. Sometimes he wished the lower plagas would allow their hosts a SLIGHT bit more sense. As he pushed past them up the stairs, the noise DID leave an irritating tingle in the vicinity of his own plaga, as if it had been rattled around in his chest. That was probably what had them so agitated.

He growled, “Out of the way!” shoving the zealot that blocked him from the door for it to stumble clumsily out of its superior’s path.

It wasn’t until after Ramon had opened the door that he could tell that what sounded to his ears like cacophony was actually music. Music that his new engineer was swaying enthusiastically to.

“Something's wrong! Shut the light!

Heavy thoughts tonight, and they aren't of Snow White!”

A large radio sat in the chair just his side of the tracks, the main source of the clamor, and as loud as the screaming voice coming out of it was, she was belting just as audibly.

“Dreams of war! Dreams of liars!

Dreams of dragon's fire and of things that will bite! YEAH!!”

Ramon beheld the display as she continued to do what he could only describe as scream-sing. Then in a twirling motion, she moved from the overturned cart she was working on to the open panel of cogs to continue to scream into the small metallic chamber, her voice echoing quite effectively. He covered his ears as the blaring racket from the speaker crescendoed.

“Eeeexiiit light! Eeeenteer niiight!”

“Gail!”

“Taaaake my haaand!”

“GAIL!”

“We’re off to never never land!”

“GAAAIIIL!!!”

She finally turned on her heal with a start, standing straight as a board and the color draining from her face as she realized he had been there for who knew how long. She quickly extended a finger to press pause on the machine next to her.

“Uh…heh! Hello, Ramon.”

“¡Oye! What in the hell is that ridiculous caterwaul?! You’ve got half the ganados in the castle running around like decapitated hens!”

“Oh! Shit! …sorry!” The barely concealed laughter in her voice didn’t go unnoticed, and his mouth twitched as he tried to cover his own mirth as the ridiculousness of the situation was finally catching up to him.

The two stood awkwardly for several seconds before Gail was the first to snort with an eruption of laughter, and it was impossible for Ramon not to sputter with an uncontrollable cackle as well. Several seconds of belly laughs had the gasping for breath before finally being able to calm themselves.

“Leave it to you to enjoy music that sounds like a million dying souls…”

“Just one dying soul, I’m afraid,” she shrugged sheepishly, wiping a tear from her eye with a stray titter, “I thought it fit the dark castle vibe pretty well.”

Ramon came to rest a hand atop the rather impressive stereo system, “And where did you get this?”

“Pretty nice, idn’ it? Merchant found that for me!” She rested herself against the railing next to them, “I just asked for a radio, but he really outdid himself. Got ahold of some CDs for me, too,” she pointed to the pile on the adjacent chair against the wall.

“Are they all…” he eyed the radio, “…like that?”

Gail scoffed, “If you mean awesome, then yes!”

Ramon smirked, “Perhaps you should ask the merchant to look for a set of headphones.”

She sighed dramatically, “There’s gotta be SOMETHING you would like ok,” she snatched one of the plastic cases, “Rammstein, maybe.” She held it up to show him an image that looked like a man’s, most likely, severed head.

“Mm! Charming…”

She grinned, “So!” she slammed the wall panel shut and closed the latch, “Wanna see if I’ve made this one even faster than the first one?”

“Absolutamente!” Ramon held out an arm, and she mocked a curtsy before wrapping hers around his.

The ride was both swift and smooth, of which Gail was quite proud. “You should have me build you a roller coaster!” She followed him as they exited the cart and made for the double doors.

“Oh, I’ve already got one! …of sorts… There’s an extensive mine railway beneath the castle grounds.”

Her eyes brightened, “ANOTHER thing you’ve still gotta show me!”

He shrugged, “Perhaps…if you remain here for long.”

Gail examined the portraits that covered the walls, “Damn! How much of this castle have I STILL not seen?”

Ramon chuckled lightly, “Quite a bit,” he stood next to her, observing the paintings as well, “You will most certainly see it all, should you stay for a time,” he glanced up at her, “All eighty-two acres…”

Gail snapped her head toward him, to gawk for a moment, “Eighty-two ACRES?!”

“Indeed!” He bounced proudly on his heals, “And that is only the expanse of the structure. The grounds continue to the village and along the coast.”

“Christ! The Queen of England wishes she COULD!”

“I am sure she DOES.”

She flashed a crooked smile, “Well…hopefully all that can wait till after dinner? About time I should be getting ready.”

Ramon gave a light bow of his head, “Certainly! I also have a surprise for you.”

Gail’s jaw dropped slightly, “For real?”

He chuckled, “For real.”

“Well, let’s hurry, then!” she softly nudged his shoulder, “It’s not my new project, is it? Not that I’m not excited about it…”

“I should like to discuss that as well, but no,” he opened the doors again back to the tram, “This is a small gift for a job well done.”

“Nice!” She opened the swinging door of the cart to let them in, and they made a markedly speedy journey back to the courtyard.

~*~*~*~

Gail had managed to find a few outfits that she had liked and rotated through each evening, but tonight, she wore the bodice-coat combo she had worn on their first dinner. It was still her favorite.

Ramon gave her a once over as she walked to the head table where he stood beside his chair, “You do wear royalty well.”

She grinned with a muffled snort, “Well ENOUGH, I guess…” she sat herself and scooted into the table, “Sooo…?”

Ramon chuckled before snapping his fingers. Isidro stepped forward baring a heavily embellished, silver pitcher, which Ramon took and came to fill her wine glass with. The heavily fruited red wine mixture swirled and glistened.

She gasped, “Sangria?!”

He smirked, “Have a taste and tell me it isn’t the best you’ve had in your life.”

“With those strawberries?! I already know it will be!”

He sat the pitcher next to her and seated himself, raising his glass of wine, “To our first success!”

She smiled and raised her own, “And many more, Lord Saddler willin’.” She took a sip and swooned, “Oh my GOD, this is perfect! Thank you!”

“You have MORE than earned it,” he sipped his own wine, “If I had five more like you, I could have this castle looking like new in a week or two.”

“Maybe you could get Saddler to put some of his researchers on cloning,” she took another long swig of sangria before turning to her meal, “But I wouldn’t wanna unleash another five of me upon the world.”

“It would be better for it, I’m certain,” he nodded.

She smiled warmly, “Well that’s sweet of you to say.”

It wasn’t long at all before Gail found herself pouring herself another glass. Surely the occasion called for a bit of indulgence. “So, what’s my next project?”

Ramon looked up from the steak he was cutting with a simper, “Eager for more work already?”

“I’m just wondering what kind of contraption you’re gonna surprise me with next,” she motioned toward him with her fork.

“In that case…perhaps you would be interested in making some minor repairs in the fire chamber.”

“Finally! I’d been working right next to it for almost a week and still haven’t seen it!”

“Now is your chance! Oh!” He gave a wag of his finger, “And I would also like you to try something for me. A test of your skill, if you’d like…”

She raised a curious eyebrow, “I never puss out on a challenge…lay it on me!”

“Saddler’s mine workers have need of a drill. A BIG one. I think it is quite within your capabilities to build us one.”

She gave a determined nod, “We’ll sure as hell find out!”

Ramon smiled as he watched her refill her glass a second time. She was by nature a friendly and chipper person, but he could tell she was becoming just slightly more excitable…more loose-tongued. Absolutely, the sangria had been a reward, but what would the harm be if he were to use her lowered guard to get her to finally spill the beans about herself.

“You have quite surprised me at every turn, Gail,” he grazed a navy fingernail around the brim of his wineglass, “Not only are you a genius engineer, you are…rather gifted in many areas.”

Her eyes brightened, before becoming half-lidded, “Yeah? In what areas?”

“Where to START?” he made certain to lay on the charm, “You certainly bare a…unique physicality. One that I would imagine is coveted by many.”

She rested her chin in her palm, swirling her glass around in her other hand with a smile, “Care to be…specific?”

“Specifically…like how you lifted the entire front end of a two thousand pound rail cart with hardly an ounce of effort.”

“Oh!” She straightened up a bit, “Ok, uh…honestly…THOUGHT you were gonna tell me I had nice boobs or something like that, but…” She didn’t take much notice as Ramon’s eyes bulged for a moment and his mouth became a straight line. “But, YEAH! Yeah, I’ve always been stronger than most. Probably should have played some kind of sport and gotten a scholarship, but I was never interested. Not other than a bit of recreational soccer for a few seasons. I MUCH prefer making things. Ya know I can also sew? Pretty good at drawing, too; helps a lot in the planning process of a lot of things.”

Ramon had regained his sly gaze, “Do you remember how you found these abilities, Gail?”

Her own gaze darted to his, and a wash of something not at all pleasant slowly melted her smile away. Her hands dropped to her lap as she fidgeted, eyes drooping to look to her right. “I-I don’t…” she shook her head, “I dunno, it’s kind of fuzzy.”

He eyed her for a moment, not in a pressing way, but in observation. Her expression was not of a person trying to remember. On the contrary, it was of someone who remembered quite well.

“I know the look of a troubled past quite well, Gail; I see it in the mirror every day,” he tilted his head, the hand on the table nearest her edging subconsciously closer, “I told you of my past; trust me with yours.”

She wasn’t nearly drunk enough to not see what he was trying to do, but she knew she WAS drunk enough that she should think long and hard about what she said next. Why keep it from him, though? Saddler already knew. What would be the difference if Ramon knew? Perhaps she was keeping it from him to avoid some unforeseen consequences. She wanted to trust him. She DID trust him to an extent, though there was the constant fear that perhaps she shouldn’t.

She glanced back up at him, their eyes meeting, and in his, she saw something that she never thought she would see. Patience. She WANTED to trust him…REALLY WANTED to.

She closed her eyes for several seconds, before exhaling, and opening them again.

“I’ve been implanted with a cadou.”

Spanish translation:

Absolutamente - absolutely

[trans-lykanthropie]

See Part One

The weather the first mate was dreading continues unabated, and the atmosphere in the bridge is tense. The captain is striding the foredeck and laughing as the bow plunges down towards deep heaving waves, her oilskin seems to give her a curious, tall, hunching profile. The helmsman and first mate exchange worried glances. You are only worried about the engines for now, occasionally shouting down the speaking tube to the furnaces below and working the engine room telegraph.

A small figure wrapped in a raincoat crosses the foredeck and approaches the silhouette of the captain. From what you can make out through the lashing rain, the figure tugs on the captain's sleeve and shouts something in her ear. The captain doesn't move, seemingly reluctant to seek shelter from the growing tempest. Another shout from the figure, however, causes the captain to sweep the second figure up in a lift and carry her off in the direction of the crew's quarters. The navigator has gone bright red and is staring intently at her collection of maps, seemingly unaware at her inkwell sliding across the desk with the pitching of the ship. The first mate chuckles, seemingly relaxes, and mutters '...thank God she's got her distracted....'

The next day the sea is calm. You bump into the captain's steward on the way to the mess at four bells of the morning watch. She greets you jovially as she rubs White Cloverine salve into a curious arc of red marks on her lower neck, beneath her open collar. She seems remarkably energetic for someone who looks like she hasn't slept all night. Nobody at breakfast asks after her strange wounds.

Later you stroll the ship and talk to some of the passengers. Some comment on the rough conditions last night, others ask about the ship's progress to Port Boston. The severe and steely-eyed Madame F., clearly the wealthiest passenger aboard, icily remarks on the captain's absence from the table at dinner last night, asks if she means it as a personal affront to the guests, and interrogates you on 'why the engines sound so loud outside her cabin'. Confused and withering under her baleful gaze, you make a feeble excuse and leave for a safer part of the ship.

You find the captain gloomily watching the almost glassy ocean, leaning despondently on a railing with her chin on her hands. She looks like she hasn't slept either. She comments absent-mindedly on the 'boring weather', how there's 'too much sun', and on how you 'smell of coal tar and hot brass' before yawning. Was that a flash....fangs you just saw? You have no idea what she's talking about, but you ask the first mate about it later. They smile a little proudly.

"Oh we missed the worst of the storm for sure, but I think the captain's in a strop with me now. She'll forgive me soon enough mind."

The captain bounds through the door in her typical way and glares daggers at the first mate, who slyly comments on how splendid the weather is. She strides over to the navigator's desk, examines the charts, makes a sound almost akin to a growl, downs the lukewarm coffee-like contents of an enamel mug, and disappears below in a flurry of topcoat and that strange forest-like scent. The navigator makes the kind of noise you'd expect someone to make on seeing a cute animal. You reflect on how the dynamic of the bridge crew makes your head spin sometimes, as if there's a joke that you don't know the punchline too.

You've been meaning to ask the navigator why she keeps a lunar calendar pinned to the wall by her station. It's not the most pressing question you have.

[esoteric-mantra-stuff]

Virgil and Beatrice (A Starry Night Epilogue)

CW: Mentions of farting (idk if this needs a cw but I'm being safe) and anything related to AoIS and what happened earlier.

So this is just a funky epilogue I wrote to tie some stuff over. It's not requiered reading or anything, but I hope all of you enjoy :3.

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

You spend a lot of time sleeping while in her camp. Your neck injury has been getting better, but there’s only so much her incantations can do. You can’t get up from your sickbed just yet, much less get out of the makeshift tent that was made for you, but you’re well enough that you can speak and sit up without wincing in pain. It’s been only three days, but you’ve been making remarkable progress. She comes over twice every day and keeps you company. This time she brings you your plain gruel and talks to you about anything really. She’s always been the chatty type, a bell on every tooth, but you don’t mind it. You’ve always been more of a listener anyway. It almost makes your gruel have some flavor, other than the iron taste of blood that lingers in your mouth, that is. “I’m sorry, but you can’t eat any solids still, not until I can make sure your neck won’t open up again.” She says upon seeing your dismayed expression. “At least I tried to make it as rich as possible. There’s nothing worse than watery gruel.” You sigh, looking at the beige colored paste on your plate. “I’m grateful, it’s just that the flavor leaves much to be desired.” You bring a spoonful to your mouth, swallowing the gruel carefully. “Yeah….” She says, looking at you as you eat away at your plate. “Well, look on the bright side. At least you’re getting a lot of fiber in your diet, I bet you haven’t been this regular in years.” You roll your eyes at the comment and continue eating despite the crass nature of her chosen topic.

She stares, but then a smile slowly creeps onto her lips. Oh no. “Well… I guess I don’t actually have to guess that your bowel movements are fine.” She says, trying not to laugh as you put your spoon down and look at her as deadpan as you can. Do you want to know? Probably not, but if you don’t ask it’s just going to be this weird inside joke, except she’s the only one in on it. You sigh. “... And how do you know that?” It’s better to get it over quickly, you tell yourself, but you feel instant regret the moment her barely contained laughter turns to a mocking smile. “Well… You probably haven’t noticed, but during the nights sometimes I’m woken up by a rather loud noise. I just couldn’t figure out what it was.” She says, setting up whatever wicked punchline you’re about to be the butt of. ”It took me a few nights of investigating before I discovered that… someone kept farting in their sleep!” She fully breaks into laughter after that. You feel your cheeks redden as shame washes over you like cold water. “W-what?! I don’t-” You’re about to defend yourself, but suddenly you’re reminded of something. The other day… you asked her if she’d seen any skunks or honey badgers around the camp. You remember smelling something foul as you woke up. She was barely containing her laughter then too! You cover your face with your hands as you groan. Maybe it’s not too late to die for real. “Hehe… Luckily the kids are pretty heavy sleepers, so don’t worry. ” She tries to comfort you, but it’s failing. Hard. She brings a hand to your chin and pets you beneath it. It feels… nice. Though you’re still very embarrassed. “... S-sorry.” You manage to say. “It's okay. I’m just glad you’re getting better, even if the process might not be pleasant.” She moves to pet behind your ears and you bring your hands to your lap. She hasn’t lost her touch after all these years.

You stay like that, eyes closed and mouth on the verge of panting, for a while until she pulls her hand away. Her touch immediately is sorely missing. “Now eat up. Flatulence or not, you’re not getting any better if you don’t keep your body nurtured.” She says, smiling at you kindly. You sigh and look down at your porridge. “Right… the gruel that makes me fart like a sheepdog on a short chain.” You pick up your spoon and continue eating with some trepidation. She shrinks her shoulders. “If it bothers you too much, I could always plug you up at night. I’m sure I have that toy in storage somewhere.” The gruel flies from your mouth as you sputter. This woman will be the death of you.

After lunch is done, she turns to cleaning your wounds. Slowly and gingerly she removes the bandages around your neck, then she applies antiseptic directly into the closing wound using some clean cotton. You can’t suppress the whine that escapes you as the chemicals sting in your skin. "Sorry. I know it stings, but that means it's working." She tries to comfort you as you try not to wince. “With this, your body should be able to continue healing even without incantations.” She pulls out new bandages and wraps them around your neck. Tossing the old bloodied linen away. “I’m just glad to be alive at all. If I died then….” You reach out for her hand, and she places it in your palm. So soft and so small compared to yours. “I would have never been able to tell you how I felt. I don’t think I could have taken such regrets to my grave.” You look into her eyes, and she smiles. Her other hand reaches up to pet behind your ears. “I’m glad you’re alive too.” She says, making your tail wag.

"Rogier's outside watching the kids if you need anything," she says as she's leaving. "I'll go check up on Iji. Hopefully, he's managed to dodge the assassins until now. It shouldn't take more than an afternoon." She leans down and kisses your forehead. "Try to sleep, okay? Recovering uses up a lot of energy." You nod. "Thank you. I think I can rest easy knowing Iji has you backing him up. Just come back in one piece, eh?" She smiles and ruffles the fur on your head before leaving. Once you are alone, you lean back and begin dreaming. For once, your dreams feel peaceful.

—------------------

The wolf’s bane and the violet they bloomed long ago  

And the brier-rose and the tulips danced amid summer glow; 

On the hill the sword-flower and the aster in the wood

And the snowdrop by the brook in autumn beauty stood  

Till fell the frost from the clear cold heaven as falls the plague on men 

but the brightness of their smile was not robbed from upland glade and glen

—------------------

You wake up sometime later. It’s hard to tell what time it is inside the tent, but you can guess the sun might set soon. There’s a slight weight over your chest, something light enough that you could still sit up if you wanted without much trouble, but something that’s breathing softly on your chest. You look down to find a familiar gray pup sleeping on top of you. Aster’s leaning forward while his legs are still kneeled by the side of your bed, his arms are folded beneath his head as a makeshift pillow. You have to wonder why he’s here. Isn’t Rogier supposed to be watching over them? Though you’re glad to see that he’s okay even after all that happened in the Moonlight Altar. Physically at least… You can only hope Aster wasn’t scarred by almost watching you die in front of him. The fact that his mother has been your only company these last few days made you afraid that maybe he didn’t want to see you. Well, he’s here now, so that can’t be.

You feel Aster stir. He opens his little mouth wide open with a yawn, complete with that signature whine. “Hello Aster. It’s been a while.” You say to the boy who smiles as he makes eye contact with those irises of faded lavender. “Dad!” He hugs you, careful around your neck. You put your hand on his back and return the hug as best as you can. “Mum said that you were getting better, but that you’ll need to rest some more before I can show you around our camp.” He says, his little tail wagging into a blur. “I would like that, thank you.” You respond. Aster hugs you for a moment longer, then returns to a sitting position by your side. 

His eyes linger on the bandages around your neck, then he looks away, wringing his hands together. The mood takes a hard dip into something more serious. Oh no, have you upset him? “Aster…? Is something wrong?” You ask, sitting up. Aster looks around the tent. He hesitates before speaking. “Umm… I’m sorry you got hurt because of me….” His little eyes meet with yours, they’re filled with honest remorse. “I should’ve paid more attention… Maybe then you wouldn’t have almost….” He trails off as he begins to sob, bringing his hands up to wipe the tears, but they can’t stop the deluge. You pull him closer and he cries into your chest. “It’s not your fault, Aster. I was responsible for your safety… I… I don’t mind getting hurt to protect you.” You try to console him, but he shakes his head. “But I don’t want you to! I *hic* I just want you to be okay….” He says between sobs. You’re not doing a good job at consoling him, are you? Maybe it’s time you stop thinking like a self-sacrificing shadow, and start thinking like a father. You let Aster cry until he’s calmed down, rubbing your hand gently on his back while he lets it all out. The boy sobs, unloading all the worry you’ve put him through since you were at the altar.

Once he calms down, you lean down as far as you can without straining your wounds and kiss him on the forehead. “I’m sorry I worried you so much, Aster. I promise….” You stop. It’s a big promise to make, but you’re shadowbound no longer, so you’ll have to get used to making them on your own now. “I promise I’ll be more careful from now on, is that okay?” The boy looks up at you, his eyes red and his cheeks stained with tears. You wipe them away with your thumb. “I’ll never regret protecting you, but… I also don’t want to scare you like this again.” You say. The pup leans into your hand as you pet him behind the ears. “... Okay… then I’ll be careful too….” Aster says. He’s still a little upset, but he seems better.

You stay with Aster a little longer. A little bit of his previous cheerfulness returns as he talks to you about the camp, his siblings, his mother and uncle Rogier. Just like his mother, he seems to be the chatty type. He talks to you about all the fun things he likes to do with his siblings, mentioning how going fishing to the creek is his favorite thing to do, you mention that you’ve never gone fishing before and he offers to teach you. “Fishing in Liurnia is really fun, but….” He trails off, hesitating to speak once more. Oh no, did something happen again? Before you can ask what’s wrong, he answers for you. “Are you… staying forever now?” He looks at you, his expression is a little hard to read, but he seems… hopeful. You look at the entrance of the tent. She offered you a place to stay, and you agreed, didn’t you? You want to stay forever, but… Truth be told, there is still a part of you that feels like this is more than what you deserve. A part of you that wants to continue running away. All this time it’s been you who’s the problem. You’re the one everyone had to work around. You’re the one who’s nature put everyone in danger.You don’t feel like you’re worthy of… this. And yet you look at Aster, his hopeful eyes tinted a soft shade of periwinkle. Another oath to keep, another promise you’re making on your own. You may not be worth them right now, but… “I’ll stay… forever.” You answer. He smiles and his little tail wags itself into a blur. If you’re not worthy of them now, you’ll just have to become worthy of them. It’s your new oath, you decide. This is your new fate.

—------------------

You approach the Three Sisters once more, the evening breeze blows through the now empty towers. Their owner has departed and their purpose now is to crumble. Were it up to you, you would never set foot here again. But Iji came this way, having discarded his spot by the entrance in an attempt to flee from his pursuers. The large troll footprints make it impossible to conclude otherwise. It’s likely the Black Knife Assassins approached him fairly recently if the prints’ freshness is anything to go by, it happened just this morning at the latest. So you return, but not without caution. All the assassins you’ve found have been dead, their bodies having crumbled to ash leaving nothing but their gear. Iji might’ve dealt with them on his own, but based on the shape of the notches left on the armor, it’s likely that whoever did them in did so with a sword. Wouldn’t Iji use his hammer? Furthermore, all of them had similar marks, meaning all of them were killed by the same person. That’s pretty insane considering it’s a twenty-four versus one match where the one side was victorious. That’s why if there’s someone even more dangerous than the assassins, you need to be careful not to catch their attention.

“I can’t thank you enough for what you did….” You hear Iji’s voice somewhere nearby, you almost call out in response when you hear it again. “Yes… neither Blaidd, Lady Ranni nor the tarnished noticed your presence. Though I have to wonder why it would be problematic if any of them saw you.” It’s coming from the left. You wander over to Seluvis’ Rise, Iji is standing by the front of the tower, talking with someone on the top floor. You can’t see them from here, but it doesn’t look like it’s the unpleasant Preceptor. He would never be seen without his hat. “I see… Well, I’m grateful you took care of Astel and the assassins. I’m not sure Blaidd would have been able to while protecting the little one….” Astel? Was that the name of the thing you found past the Lake of Rot? And was the person in the tower responsible for killing the assassins too? You almost go over and call Iji’s attention, but you remember what was said earlier. This person was kept secret from everyone, even Ranni herself. If you go over right now, it might cause them to flee. You decide to hide amongst the foliage and listen. Perhaps it’s just morbid curiosity, but if something is being kept secret from you, you want to find out what.

Iji stays quiet. Listening to the person at the top. If only you were closer, you might be able to hear their voice. You creep towards the tower slowly so as to not alert either party. “Blaidd and the tarnished have returned to her camp, but I hear he’s recovering well. Lady Ranni did not wait to bid him farewell, but I shall tell him she did if he ever asks. It’s the least I can do to spare his feelings….” Iji says to the entity. From here you can almost make out a whispery voice. You strain your ears to make out what they’re saying. “... he’s always been so loyal to her, and yet she can’t even say goodbye properly? Here I thought nobles were supposed to have manners.” The voice, a man’s, says. Iji shakes his head. Then lifts his gaze up to the skies, the stars have started to appear and the moon is almost full. “I’m afraid Lady Ranni and Blaidd will never get a chance to truly reconcile. The shadowbound cannot be equal to their masters by design… Blaidd could never forgive her on his own terms for her failings.” The figure stays quiet, the evening breeze rustles the leaves off the trees. “... Maybe it’s better this way… I hope you’ll continue to watch over him after I’m gone. It’s unlikely that I’ll be returning….” The man says and there’s a certain sadness in his voice. Iji nods. “Of course. Blaidd may be boorish, blunt and unable to locate his nose with both hands, but he’s a good egg. I would be remiss if I didn’t make sure he acclimated to his new life as a free man.” You can’t be sure from here, but you almost make out the silhouette of the man at the top from here. A sharp, wolven profile comes into view in the dwindling light. Another half-wolf?! You audibly gasp and then immediately cover your mouth with both hands. Iji and the man in the tower take notice, and look around for the source of the noise. Iji looks behind him, trying to spot any interlopers, but the man at the top stares down directly into the bushes where you’re hidden. He steps out closer to the edge and you make out his suit of armor. Thin brass plate, intricately adorned and lovingly crafted, covered by a red shawl that extends up to the hands. His face is still hidden in shadow, but his eyes shine in the growing moonlight. An icy blue one and a faded lavender one. They stare directly at you and you can’t help but hold onto his gaze. The moment extends infinitely long as though a single second could last years. You almost give in and announce your presence when the man breaks away from visual contact. “... It was nothing… Probably some stray critter.” He says, clearly ignoring your presence. There’s no way he didn’t see you. “I should get going anyway… Stay safe, Iji.” The troll nods, deciding to ignore the noise as well. “Very well… With this I mark that you have upheld the ancient concord that binds our worlds together. Though it was a coincidence that joined us, it was comradery that led us to victory.” Iji recites what seems to be some sort of chant or sacred oath. From the tower you feel the soft glow of Grace. “With this I bid you farewell… Lobo of Medía.” With those final words, the man was returned to his world in fading light. So he was a summon from another world? You’ve heard of other tarnished summoning allies from adjacent realities, but you never gave it much thought. What do these other realities look like? Are they different from the Lands Between or are they all the same?

“It is rude to eavesdrop on conversations, tarnished.” Iji says, breaking you out of your interdimensional reveries. Fuck. You stand up from your crouched position, feeling a little embarrassed at being caught. “Sorry, but you can’t expect me to not be curious if you talk about me.” You say, causing Iji to shake his head in disbelief. “Good grief….” The old War Counselor sighs. You turn to look at the tower. From where you’re standing you can tell there’s no one inside. “Who was that?” You ask the troll. “That… was a collaborator from another world. Usually only the tarnished can summon such allies, but I have my own methods….” Iji explains. You nod, crossing your arms. “I figured that much out, but who was he? He seemed to know a lot about Blaidd and Ranni….” Iji shakes his head. “As I explained, he was just an ally from another world. Whatever his reasons are for helping are not for me to say ....” Iji remains stubborn about saying nothing. It doesn’t seem like you’re getting any more out of the troll.

“Huh… well whatever. I came to check up on you. I’m glad to find you’re safe.” You change the topic, trying to get the image of those eyes peering at you out of your head. Iji looks down at you from beneath his mirrored helm. From here you can truly appreciate how tall he is. “Thank you so much for your concern. I’m fine, the assassins are gone and I shall depart from this place soon.” His voice remains as calm as ever, despite the circumstances. “Hopefully we shall meet again soon. I doubt you’d refuse the services of a good smithing hand.” He seems happy. Maybe ushering the Age of Stars in has put him in a good mood. “You bet. I’m sure Blaidd will be happy to see you too.”

You accompany Iji out of the manor, but the strange circumstances on the tower stick with you. Maybe you were just imagining it, but you felt like maybe that half-wolf’s eyes looked familiar.

[halfburntmatch]

work in progress wednesday

Steve is stopped, his car idling in the driveway to his house, leaning with his head pressed against the steering wheel. Kate Bush filters and crackles through the radio of the BMW and he aches in the feeling of it as it washes over his skin, as the memory of Max floating in the graveyard plays in his head on a loop. Guilt eats at his insides. He should have been at the house with her. Should have been at the trailer with Eddie. Should have been there to destroy Jason for Lucas, should have been there to catch Dustin’s fall, should have been there to kill this motherfucker, should have been everywhere—to save his family or die trying.

He’s walking through the door of his house, ignoring the neighbors’ dogs barking at him over the fence and the way he feels watched, like the eyes of the street are all on him in the darkening afternoon haze. The weight of the weeks come flooding down his throat until he feels like he might be drowning, scrambling into the house before the prying eyes of his suburb watch him have a breakdown on his front porch. He times his breaths with each step of his sneakers clicking on the marble floors, with the flick of the lock, with waves of fuzz washing through the radio. He goes over to it, switching to another station as Metallica fills the halls of Harrington House. Steve stills.

He remembers the battle of the bands in his senior year, where Corroded Coffin literally vibrated the bleachers with how loudly they played For Whom the Bell Tolls. He thinks of Eddie’s carefully practiced fingers as he got ready to go into the upside down; into the distraction; into his death.

He switches the radio off.

He times the breathing again, a tactic Robin taught him for when he feels like his, stepping carefully across the house and into his room. He is crossing into the hallway when the radio switches on again, turning itself up. Master of Puppets plays loud enough that Steve can’t even hear the panic, can’t hear his thoughts. He turns slowly towards it, like he’s expecting someone to be standing there pulling a prank, like the next upside down monster is going to be messing with Steve’s radio before just killing him—but there’s nothing there. No one. Just the radio and the noise and Steve Harrington. He presses forward, wandering into the cold air of the living room. The chill nips at his fingers a bit as he turns the radio off, cranking down the volume for good measure. He doesn’t remark on the cold—his house is always cold—as he heads down the hall towards his room, but he hears the guitar riff again as he closes his door.

In his room, the world feels a little bit less like its falling apart. He hates this house, he really does, or he thinks he does—but sometimes when Robin, hair mussed from his pillow, smiles at him just after waking up or Dustin curls into the corner of his couch during movie night, or Max dips her toes into the edge of the pool—he’s glad it’s there. Just for them. He has spent the most time in his room compared to anywhere in Harrington House. He hibernates in it with his parents are home, flitting in and out with lovers and fights and their own very boring very grown-up parties. His room feels…safe. If only a little.

Steve sits down, the chill from downstairs creeping under his door and into his room and combatting the April breeze blowing in through his open window. Had he left that open? He sits and sits and time passes, he thinks, but nothing feels real, like he’s swimming through a dream instead of the harsh reality his life in Hawkins has become.

[wickedsrest-rp]

NAME: Aufhocker

ALSO KNOWN AS: Kludde

RARITY: ★★★★☆

THREAT LEVEL: ★★★☆☆ | Sometimes become a deadly threat, but weaknesses can be exploited by anyone who knows what they are (unlikely), or is lucky.

HABITAT: Aufhockers need both woodlands to roam in as well as a steady supply of travelers to eat. Most of them can be found around hiking trails, cabins, along roads, and other locations out in the woods that see a decent number of people.

DESCRIPTION: The aufhocker isn’t all that intimidating… to start out with. In its normal form, the aufhocker is a small, dog-sized wolf who enjoys following travelers around. Its fur is black and it has a friendly disposition. People say they even see it wagging his tail and begging for scraps of food. The trouble sets in when the traveler steps on and breaks a twig, sighs, or swears. Some individual aufhockers are set off by other, seemingly random things. 

Once this occurs, the aufhocker will jump on the person’s back, growing heavier and heavier every time they repeat their mistake– something that gets increasingly frequent when you’re lugging around a wolf on your back. The aufhocker slowly transforms into a towering, spitting, snarling, slobbering beast the size of a tiger, with glowing red eyes. There will reach a point where the person can no longer support the aufhocker, and falls over. They will then have their throat ripped out and be devoured. Once the aufhocker finishes their meal, they revert back to their smaller, friendlier form and go off in search of another traveler. It’s likely some of the more convincing “wolf” sightings in Wicked’s Rest were actually aufhockers.

ABILITIES: Aufhockers weigh more than you’d think just based on their size – which is impressive to begin with. Progressively, they’ll reach a weight that will simply just crush their victim. In addition to their own weight shifting, aufhockers have the ability to shift the weight of things around it, making a tree light as a feather or a feather heavy as a tree. They may do this to manipulate their victim into doing the thing that sets off the whole gruesome feeding affair, or simply for the mischievous fun of it. This ability gives their blood value to spellcasters as it can be used in potions that can have similar effects, and it’s typical for them to send rangers after the aufhockers for collection purposes.

WEAKNESS: Strong, negative smells and loud, high-pitched noises can scare the aufhocker off. If someone is able to carry the aufhocker until sunrise, the beast will jump off their back and run off. They’re afraid of church bells and sunlight and will retreat in fear if they encounter either. For whatever reason, they also can’t stand the sound of a harmonica and will flee in terror if exposed to the sound – even if it’s not real.

OTHER VARIANTS:

Pesanta: First encountered by Catalonian rangers, pesanta are large aufhockers that can have a canine or feline appearance, steel claws and fangs, and holes through their paws. They are breath-drinkers who change size to slip into homes and crush sleepers. Anyone being crushed by a pesanta is trapped in nightmares and must mentally escape the nightmare or asphyxiate. Pesanta are very friendly towards mares and bugbears, but will also “mooch” off their prey.

(Art credit: Aleksi Briclot)

[jasonbehrs]

🎭 wear your heart where i can see 🎭

by airauralintensity (aka me, jasonbehrs!)

a dbsk fanfic about falling in love on a trial run

“But you’re a dude!”

“That will continue to be true for every lesson in the curriculum, so I suggest you get over that quickly.”

ship: yunjae chapter: 5/10 word count: 2.6k+ rating: T+ for cursing

read it on ffnet, aff, ao3, or below!

~~~

Jaejoong enters the lunch room the next day a little later and a little more annoyed than he normally does. His geometry teacher held him back after class to talk about his performance on the last quiz. It wasn't the best, admittedly, but he didn't need the reminder. Right now, the only triangular shapes he cares about are pizza slices.

A roar of noise erupts from one of the tables near the food pick-up, and he recognises the students to be the hapkido team as he gets in line. He wants to find their antics obnoxious but cannot. If High School Musical taught him anything, it's that sports teams and drama clubs aren't as diametrically opposed as they think they are.

As the line progresses, Jaejoong idly thinks about what a theoretical 'Stick to the Status Quo' musical number would look like in their school cafeteria, then he recognises Yunho in the middle of the excitement. One of the team members is giving him a noogie, and he's close enough (and they're loud enough) that he can pick out the accompanying jibes.

"When do we get to meet her?" "It must be pretty serious if the Jungster himself is telling us!" "Has she figured out yet that you're a fucking nerd?"

Jaejoong turns his back on the scene with a warm yet wry smile playing on his face. He's always had the impression of Yunho being a diligent student, so it shouldn't surprise him that spirit applies even in this.

When he has his lunch in hand, he looks over at the hapkido table one more time. They've settled down while he was ordering, which gives Yunho the opportunity to see Jaejoong above the heads of his friends. He offers a happy little wave, and Jaejoong responds with a nod. Yunho gives him one last smile before returning his attention back to his friends, then Jaejoong notices there's actually space for one or two more people at their table. Something he is choosing to call an intrusive thought tells him to take the spot next to Yunho, but he resolutely shakes it off.

A wave out of the corner of his eye gets his attention, and he finds the table where Sooyoung and some other drama club kids are sitting. When he gets closer, she shifts to make a spot for him and doesn't even let him take a bite of his pizza before pouncing. "So what did Jung Yunho want with you yesterday?"

Jaejoong blinks at her. He can't believe he never told her about his newest extracurricular activity, especially considering she was basically the inspiration behind it all. Where would he even begin?

He looks into her expectant eyes, opens his mouth, and says the words, "He was lending me his geometry notes. I totally bombed the last quiz."

Sooyoung makes a sympathetic noise. "I'm sorry. Here, have my brownie." She drops the dessert on his plate and lets him eat in peace, but now Jaejoong isn't quite hungry.

He tells himself that it's because they aren't alone that he's hesitant to launch into a dramatic retelling of his past few weeks, but he knows himself enough to know it's just a convenient excuse. He just doesn't really want to find out the real reason yet either, though.

"By the way, what can you tell me about Kwon Boa?" he asks to distract himself.

Sooyoung sends him a weird look over her drink. "Probably nothing that you don't already know. She's the one who kicked our butts during rehearsal last night, does that ring a bell?"

"Humour me."

"Hardass, gorgeous, smart, flexible, unattainable, gorgeous…" she lists.

"Yeah, but you were on the dance team with her last year. Can't you tell me anything more specific?"

Sooyoung narrows her eyes at him, trying to determine the purpose of his line of questioning, but then she tilts her head as she thinks about how to respond. This is what Jaejoong loves about her. She'll judge him and take him seriously in the same instance.

He's halfway done with his lunch when she speaks up again. "Boa has this reputation for being an ice queen, but she really just has high standards. She's pretty normal when she's not in work mode, actually. People also think she's a stick in the mud, but I never thought that was fair. She's just not the life-of-the-party type of person. Like, she has a great sense of humour but can't make the joke herself, you know? … Honestly, she isn't really your type, boobs and vag notwithstanding," Sooyoung ends jokingly.

Jaejoong elbows her in good nature, but inside he's agonising.

She may not be his type, but he could totally see why she would be Yunho's.

~~~

After school, he's doing homework in his room wondering if maybe he really should ask Yunho for his geometry notes when the boy himself texts him.

I'll have you know that the hapkido team has been made aware of new variables to my after school availability

Jaejoong makes a face. please don't say it liek that to your real girlfriend, she's gonna hate it

The reply is quick. Last time I checked, that's you, is it not? Concepts in practise, and all

do not cite the textbook to me, student! i was there when it was written and yes exactly since i am your rEaL gIrLfRiEnD, i'm telling you to quit it wait

What?

what am i saved as in your phone?

Yunho's next message is a screenshot of a contact page. The text at the top, right above Jaejoong's phone number, reads 'Prince Charming'.

Jaejoong's fingers move before he tells them to. YAH!

Is something the matter?

Technically? No. Jaejoong had asked because he was going to encourage Yunho to save him under a nickname anyway. If Yunho's little sister is anything like Jaejoong's older one, then their conversations are liable to be perused at any moment for the sake of her entertainment. As he suspected, Yunho wanted to keep their practise-dating-slash-tutoring thing a secret; and 'Prince Charming' hides enough.

Another text comes in. You said you liked the nickname

But that's the real problem, isn't it? He does like the nickname; he likes that Yunho made that his contact name—as opposed to his initials or a fake name or something else—without any prompting on Jaejoong's part at all.

He likes it a little too much.

i need a cooler one for subterfuge purposes, you understand, he eventually fires off.

Again, the reply is quick. Shouldn't I get a secret agent nickname too then? I bet my name in your phone is just Jung Yunho

Jaejoong burns with indignation. How dare that punk be right.

He looks around his room desperately, trying to find inspiration for something quick and clever he could change Yunho's contact name to. Unseen pressure forces him to choose quick over clever, so he groans and settles for something basic.

excuse you, i am committed to this relationship

The attached photo shows a screenshot of Yunho's own contact page entitled 'Hot Stuff 🔥'. Unfortunately, that really was the best Jaejoong got.

When more than a minute passes without hearing from the other, Jaejoong's mind helpfully supplies he actually has homework he needs to do. He turns his phone face down on his desk with a sigh and looks back at the worksheet he's supposed to be filling out, but then he remembers why he stopped so easily in the first place. He has no clue how to solve this problem.

He figures it's time to actually ask for some real help, but Yunho's incoming text distracts him again.

That's very flattering, thank you. You're rather cute yourself ❤

Jaejoong stares at the characters on his screen like they may change from Korean into something else at any moment. That is a suspiciously flirty response coming from Yunho.

oh yeah? what's cute about me~

He pays rapt attention to the dots at the bottom of the screen that portend an incoming message. It's not that he has expectations or hopes for what the response will be, but he's intrigued by what it will reveal.

Your food is delicious

Jaejoong barks out a laugh into his empty room, more relieved than disappointed. Of course. Yunho couldn't be flirting with him; he doesn't know how!

why am i not surprised that's your answer ;p give me another. i want one about ME

Jaejoong leans back in his seat, waiting for the comedy to be delivered right to his fingertips.

Your voice is cute

He nearly falls backwards, and Yunho isn't done.

Cute may be a strong word, but I like your voice a lot. It's very unique. I can pick it out in a noisy room I also like the way you talk, like everything is a joke just waiting to find the right audience I think you're funny too, but I'm not sure this one counts because everyone thinks you're funny

Jaejoong almost cracks his phone from the frantic way he's handling it as message after message rolls in. Where is this all coming from? Why does Jung Yunho know so many words?

Finally, there is a lull in notifications, and Jaejoong tentatively takes a peek at the most recent message in their chat log.

And of course, you're cutest when you're next to me

His heart beats a dangerous rhythm against his chest when he reads those words. A cursory glance at the rest of the chat reveals a string of compliments that become more and more cheesy as he scrolls through, and he cannot handle any of that right now—not what they say, not what they mean.

yAH CAN YOU READ?! i said one (1)! he sends in an embarrassingly hopeful stupor before desperately scrolling back up again. What did Yunho say? What did Yunho mean?

The reply comes in as a bubble at the top of the screen. Ah, right… Extra credit then? ;)

Jaejoong will not admit it to himself until his subconscious does it for him later at night, but that winky face, in all of its unassuming and unexpected glory, is probably what seals his fate.

~~~

The text messages are still on his mind in the minutes between English and Literature the next day, which makes Yunho's sudden appearance by his side a welcome yet disconcerting surprise.

"Woah, hey! Jumpy today. Everything okay?"

Uncharacteristic awkwardness overcomes Jaejoong in the face of Yunho's concern. "Yes?"—No, he should sound more confident.—"I mean, yeah! Yeah, I would say so. You don't have to worry about me."—No! That's such a weird thing to say, what the hell.—"I mean, um."

He needs to get over this.

"What's up?" he finishes lamely.

Yunho only blinks at him, and yeah, Jaejoong deserves that. He forces himself to find a grip and get it. "I have Literature next. What about you?"

Not the best recovery, but at least Yunho stops looking at him like he should take Jaejoong to the nurse. "What classroom is that in?"

"206, why?"

Yunho looks around furtively, which is a silly enough action that the need to make fun of Yunho makes Jaejoong come back to himself. They're in a high school; there's no such thing as privacy.

Yunho seems to realise the same thing. "Come with me." He grabs hold of Jaejoong's hand to pull him in the opposite direction they're walking, and Jaejoong's feet follow him in surprise before putting up a feeble fight. "What are you doing? We have class!"

Yunho continues to pull him through the hall and down some stairs. "I don't have a quiz or anything. Do you?" He looks over his shoulder with mischief in his eyes, and Jaejoong feels awkward again. He only shakes his head.

They're not running in slow motion through empty halls like in the movies, but they may as well have been in Jaejoong's mind. Is this really Yunho—studious, learn-the-theory, can-homework-be-part-of-a-date Jung Yunho—who's making them skip class so they could be alone together?

He was stupid to think that he could put up a fight against whatever Yunho's planning, not like this. He wants to see where this will go, late Joseon poetry be damned.

Yunho takes them all the way outside, and Jaejoong's feet trip over nothing. The only thing out here on this side of campus worth visiting is the Backstreet. Yunho knows what the Backstreet is for, right?

To Jaejoong's surprise and anticipation, it's empty.

Yunho walks them to the alley entrance, not much deeper than they were the first time, and leans against one wall, hands in his pockets and legs stretched out to almost reach the other side with his toes. Jaejoong mirrors the pose on the opposite wall and tries to calm down. He is thrumming with the energy it takes to contain his expectations, but he doesn't know what this all means yet.

He knows what he wants this to mean, though.

Yunho leans forward and leers. "So, how did I do?"

Jaejoong doesn't know what he's referring to, but that isn't enough to stop a stupid answer to a stupid question. "You were very good at leading us all the way here," he says with a faux-serious nod.

"No!" Yunho laughs. "I meant last night."

Jaejoong straightens his posture in interest. Yunho wants to talk about last night? The hope he has been refusing to acknowledge blazes anew in his chest. The memory of Yunho's sweet, promising words; the auspicious location for playing hooky; the way Yunho is looking at him with eager eyes—he can feel a blush blooming on his cheeks, but he doesn't bother trying to hide it. What use would that do? He's the cutest when he's besides Yunho, after all.

Yunho's grin widens, gets a little toothy. "Yeah? I passed?"

"Passed?" Jaejoong repeats with a confused smile, still trying to figure out if he's going to have his first kiss with a boy today. Not just any boy. Jung Yunho.

Jung Yunho, who pulls his hands out and gestures excitedly. "Yeah, the flirty texts? The 'concepts in practise'?" He makes lazy air quotes with his fingers. "How did I do?"

Jaejoong's heart drops with no bungee cord to pull it back up to where it belongs.

With painful clarity, he reimagines last night in the context of what Yunho must have been thinking the whole time: it was one of their lessons. A test. He brought up extra credit, for fuck's sake, and Jaejoong still didn't get it.

He collects himself enough to remember he owes Yunho an answer. "Fine."

"'Fine'?!"

Jaejoong nods, face turned out of the alley. "You did fine."

"What! I thought I was being really sweet while maintaining a subtle, yet undeniable, flirtatious undertone!"

He was, but Jaejoong can't feel good about being on the receiving end of it anymore. He thought Yunho really meant those things, but he was stupid. Why would he humour Jaejoong so much if it weren't part of his endgame? It hasn't even been two days since he learned Yunho is doing all of this for Kwon Boa. Yunho wouldn't change his mind in two days.

"Is it because I didn't initiate?" Yunho wonders out loud.

It's his fault. Jaejoong is the one who changed his mind in two days. "Sure."

"Dangit, I knew you were gonna dock me points for that. Listen, I've been thinking about it. At this point in the relationship, isn't it fair for me to expect some pursuing in return? All the stuff you told me about my girlfriend wanting to feel wanted and whatever, doesn't that get to apply to me, too?"

Jaejoong pushes himself off the wall. He needs to get out of here. "You know what? You're right. Your girlfriend should ask you out."

Yunho perks up and follows Jaejoong out of the Backstreet. "Really?"

"Really." Jaejoong doesn't even bother to turn his head so that his voice can be heard better, focused as he was on the nearest school entrance. "Wait to hear from her."

He makes it inside a few paces before Yunho does, then he books it for the nearest staircase. He spares half a mind to hope that Yunho thinks he's preoccupied with making it back to class, but he's not going to class.

On the second floor, he beelines for the bathroom and locks himself in a stall. He gets up on the toilet and squats and curls inward on himself just in time for the first tears to fall.

He was so, so stupid.

~~~

A/N (4.16.2023): Past midnight where I am, but it's still Saturday somewhere in America! This chapter was pretty short and perhaps weirdly paced, but the next one will make up for it! Also, I made slight edits to chapters 1-3 to help set up for later in the story. I normally only publish my works after the whole whole thing is already written for this very reason, but I was trying something new with this story. I'm gonna go back to my old method for my next work, but this was still a good learning experience. :)

[bmodiwrites]

Nice & Quiet

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Rating: Explicit (E) Notes: I owe a lot of this one to this post here & this one here. Thanks for the ideas, pals - I just ran with the excellent ground work you set down. Word Count: ~9.4k Warnings: There’s a tiny bit of smut in here, but it’s me writing, so when is that not the case? Other than that, it's pretty tame! Summary:

What if Steve started to lose his hearing after getting beat up by Jonathan Byers back in s1? Watch the progression of hearing loss and Steve's reaction to it as he learns how to navigate a world he can no longer hear.

Or - a sorry excuse to write some Steve fluff.

Find it on A03

It all started with an incessant little buzzing.

Deep in his right ear, a loud sound, like a radio tuning through the channels, started to grow in pitch and intensity. At first, Steve didn’t really notice it; he was too busy trying to deal with the fact that Jonathan Byers could fight and fight well. There were bruises and cuts on his face that took priority over the concussion Steve only recognized because of the prior times he’d gotten his bell rung. As a multisport athlete, Steve wasn’t a stranger to aggressive hits and full body pain. Nor was he new to dealing with injuries on his own.

Steve didn’t tune into the station in his head until well after his first fight with the Demogorgon. He tried to write the ringing off for a while, played it as if it was a side effect, even – the entirety of his body was out of whack after so much trauma. It quickly became impossible to ignore, however, when the never ending noise started to detrimentally distract him. Some days, the pitch in his ear was so loud Steve couldn’t focus enough to get out of bed without pain. That led to classes skipped and assignments missed. When he was at school, Steve only caught every other word spoken in the classroom.

Out of all the odd things that could take him out, Steve never thought hearing loss would even make his radar, let alone disable him little by little.

He didn’t think to bring it up to anyone else, either. What could he say, anyway – that a mysterious ringing in his ears had started to manifest into a detriment? Out of all the things he’d seen and been a part of, a little buzzing that never went away wasn’t that big of a deal. It couldn’t be when other dimensions existed and people he knew were dead.

Except, maybe it was. By the time his senior year rolled around, Steve couldn’t hear in class, regardless of where he sat. It didn’t seem like a big deal until the first few assignments came back with circled red F’s that stood out starkly on the white paper. Despite not being the smartest kid on the planet, Steve wasn’t used to failing. He barely did enough to keep his parents off of his back, screwing up during his last year of school wasn’t an option. There was no way in hell Steve was going to be repeating classes, or heaven forbid, flunk his senior year.

So, he started doing research. He found out that the persistent ringing in his ear was a common symptom of multiple head injuries. The tinnitus, its technical term, was more than likely permanent and would get worse the older he got. Never mind the fact that further trauma could do even more damage. It was a disheartening revelation; though, he was bound and determined not to let a little ringing in his ear beat him.

Then, Billy Hargrove came into his life, making everything just a bit worse.

Of course, Steve had to take some credit for the bubbling tension that grew between them. During his time at Hawkins High, competition for top dog spot was few and far between. Even after Steve got his act together and stopped being a shit, popularity came easy to him. Which was why Billy and the admittedly attractive charisma he brought with him surprised Steve so much. The hair on the back of his neck stood up any time the other guy was around, and rational thought flew out the window. Some of the fights he got into with Billy he absolutely brought on himself. They were silly in the sense that a pissing content was. No harm, no foul.

That changed when Billy decided to come after his kids. The paternal instinct he felt for Dustin’s friends was immediate and irrevocable. When Max came up with a plan and asked him to lie for her, to protect her, to stand up to Billy in her stead, Steve couldn’t say no. At that plan’s failure, Steve changed gears and shifted into the tactical fighter he knew he could be. Protecting Lucas gave Steve a different kind of edge.

That didn’t change the fact that Billy certainly knew how to use a plate, however. For a second before the porcelain hit him, Steve was sure he actually had a leg up. The very consistent pummeling of Billy’s fists after he hit the ground changed that opinion quickly. His brain was rattled and the ringing in his ear got twice as bad. He hoped it was all a side effect of the black tunnel of unconsciousness seeping in, but the reality of that was unlikely.

For the rest of the night, while he tried to put on a brave face, Steve worried about the fact that he couldn’t hear much from his right ear. The ringing was so bad that by trying to block it out, Steve isolated that entire side of hearing. It was odd, having to turn his head to the left every time he wanted to pretend to listen to someone.

As the concussion receded, Steve assumed the pressure and ringing and lack of hearing would disappear, too. Instead, everything stayed miserable and hard to manage. On top of the hearing loss that he could not deny any longer, Steve started to deal with aggressive migraines that affected something different every time. Sometimes, he’d open his eyes just enough to know that attempting to do anything other than keep them closed was a recipe for disaster. Other times it was vertigo and photosensitivity that knocked him off his feet. When he controlled his triggers, the headaches were few and far between, but in times of stress – Steve struggled to keep it all together.

When the understanding that actual deafness was a definite reality for him finally settled in, Steve dug a little deeper into the things he could do to help himself. He started with lip reading, which turned out to be much harder than Steve ever could’ve imagined. There were many nights spent standing in front of the mirror memorizing the shape his lips made when he said certain words. Though, the practice wasn’t anywhere close to enough. Steve branched out into reading body language and empathetic communication books in hopes of compounding lip reading’s effect.

Steve saved learning sign language for last. Ever proficient in the languages he learned before the hearing loss set in, Steve was certain ASL would be his easiest endeavor. And while it didn’t really matter, learning a language that no one else could speak, Steve worked hard to master it. He mouthed the words as he moved his fingers, tying the kinesthetic to the verbal in his brain. While Steve didn’t get to interact with others that knew the language, he was certain he’d be able to hold a conversation without the spoken word if push came to shove.

Because he was feeling more confident, things seemed to even out for a while. Steve learned to be stealthy in the way he looked at other’s papers when hunting down the assignment in class (though, he got it wrong every now and again). He figured out a way to pay enough attention to Dustin while he spoke and used the kid’s dramatic emotional cues to get the rest. The party already assumed him to be dimwitted and airheaded, so Steve got away with blank looks and oddly timed comments added to conversations. In a lot of ways, Steve was just happy to be a part of something he cared about – hearing the aimless chatter was secondary and unimportant.

It wasn’t perfect by any means, but Steve made it work. At least enough to snatch passing grades and escape Hawkins High with his high school diploma and a few worthwhile friendships still intact.

The summer started out pretty promising, too. The new Starcourt Mall was a great addition to Hawkins, bringing Scoops Ahoy with it. Despite the dopey outfit he had to wear every day, scooping ice cream and people watching wasn’t the worst way to spend his time. He got to work on his lip reading and body language cueing, barely getting any orders wrong (people tended to point at what they wanted when they ordered, so that helped, too). Never mind the fact that he met a human that was filled to the brim with dry wit and personality that Steve more than appreciated. Robin brought noise back into his life just by existing.

While the rest of the kids were still around, Steve had lots of free time without Dustin’s presence – most of which he spent puzzling over his feelings for the new personality in his life. For a while, Steve was convinced she was the perfect person for him. Her heady quips and easy clap backs made him feel light and entertained. Yet, there were many moments where their camaraderie felt like having a sister around instead of potential girlfriend material. It was a dilemma that Steve was happy to divert his attention towards.

That tender ease of having normal teenager problems was easily swept away by the excitement of Dustin’s return – and the subsequent reveal of Russians attempting nefarious deeds right below them. Steve was absolutely no help at all with the language dissection or code breaking because he couldn’t hear any of it well enough to get the words being said, let alone translate them. He carried his weight by working the counter and keeping Ericka Sinclair in line.

Steve’s real heroics came when he and Robin were taken in by the Russians. He didn’t understand a word they were saying to him, nor did he care – Steve knew how to fight and survive, so he did just that. It was too bad then that getting beat to shit didn’t mix well with Russian truth serum. For most of the questioning they tried on him, Steve couldn’t hear anything – from his right OR left ear. The punishing punches across the face only made it worse, inciting a cycle of failed coercion and hits to the eye because of it.

The rest of the night moved too quickly for Steve to worry about the eerie silence that followed him out of the Russian bunker – he didn’t need his ears to drive or protect the kids from danger.

Mourning Hopper’s death and the Starcourt Mall fire cover up took priority after that.

It was only when the world calmed back down to its newer version of normal that Steve really understood the magnitude of the predicament he was now in. His body took quite a bit of time to work out the cocktail of drugs he’d been doped with, giving him the slightest bit of hope that the silence was temporary, that when he started to feel normal again, some of the noise, even if it was only just a small amount of it, would come back. And those hopeful thoughts didn’t even take into account the massive physical trauma the beating he took brought about. With a fractured orbital socket and an impacted ear drum on his left side, the outlook for something as silly as hearing didn’t seem all that promising.

By the time the Byers had moved out of their house, Steve came to terms with the fact that sound in its most basic form was no longer an option for him.

Luckily, Robin’s sweet talking and Steve’s rumored ability to score with any girl was a good enough combination to land him a job at Family Video. In a place like that, Steve had many opportunities to fine tune his lip and emotion reading cues. He’d seen the popular movies and picked up enough of their plots to answer questions and make recommendations. While he couldn’t hear, Steve had gotten very good at recognizing and absorbing subtext. Which was how he made it through movie nights with Dustin and the crew without burdening anyone with his inability to hear. They expected him to be flighty and miss a lot of the goings on, anyway. His lack of profound commentary didn’t surprise anyone.

Steve was working with the situation he found himself in the best way he knew how.

Then, the world tried to end again.

The latest battle with the Upside Down was unlike anything Steve had ever experienced. While he’d been exposed to things most people would never dream of, nothing was scarier than the threat of Vecna. The monster single handedly made Eddie Munson into a wanted man with just the power of his mind. And though his interest in fighting the good fight stemmed from wanting to protect the kids he’d come to think of as his own, the developing closeness he and Eddie created throughout all the trauma sharpened his resolve. The mission was of a personal nature, making it both important and unthinkably scary.

When push came to shove, they were all lucky to be alive in the end.

Especially Eddie – Steve had to remind himself of that every time he wanted to bail on a group plan or party get together. In a time when death was so close by, shutting himself away just didn’t make any sense. The collection of people who survived the Upside Down had grown, adding new members to the group that brought a different spark of life and character to the ragtag family Steve found along the way. So what if having so many people around him was so overwhelming? What did it matter if he couldn’t keep up with a single word anyone said when there were so many voices vying for attention? Their family was still intact by some unknown grace of the universe and Steve refused to turn his back on that good fortune.

That didn’t mean, however, that being almost completely deaf got any easier. The more time he spent around everyone, the better Steve got at recognizing their tells. While that didn’t give him much in terms of keeping up with the conversation, Steve at least had grasp enough on their emotions to understand what was needed from him. He tried to watch and learn how his friends’ mouths moved, but there were too many to keep track of.

Well, that wasn’t completely true. Because of the tightness of everyone’s bond and continued excitement to be alive, the group spent so much time together. To the point where Steve never needed to worry about being alone. Between Dustin, Robin, and Eddie, there was someone around him at all times. They were the people that Steve worked a little harder to reciprocate communication with. Especially Eddie – Steve wished, not for the first time, that he met the metalhead before he started to lose his hearing. Eddie’s personality was loud and raucous in its own right; Steve was certain his voice sounded like music.

So, Steve paid a little extra attention to Eddie’s lips. At first, it was in a desperate attempt to grasp the words coming out of his mouth. Steve hadn’t wanted to talk back and forth with someone so much in his entire life. After a while, Steve’s heart started to come into play. Somewhere along the line, Steve realized that his yearning to know Eddie more, to be able to genuinely hear him, stemmed from a bigger, more deep seated desire. When attraction came into play, Steve’s eyes stayed on Eddie’s lips for an entirely different reason. He wondered what they’d look like against his skin, how, when they were close, the words Steve couldn’t hear would feel kissed into him.

Their friendship was too new to press the gas too hard (never mind the fact that Steve had been burnt one too many times), so Steve tried to keep his gaze tamed behind the need to read Eddie’s lips and nothing more.

He was certain that the staring necessary to do just that was already a little odd for everyone around him. And while he hadn’t gone out of his way to keep his deafness from everyone else, no one seemed to pick up on the reason why he was always checked out of conversations and couldn’t follow movies. For most of them, that was just commonplace behavior. Steve certainly didn’t want to make it weird with Eddie by magnifying that oddity with lustful staring, too.

It was enough to still be included in the group, despite the airhead status they’d all coined him with. Steve brought enough to the table to still be an important piece of the game board without his hearing intact – when he allowed himself, Steve thought that was more than enough.

----

Which meant, of course, that a big group revelation came not long after Steve made that resolution. They were crowded into the Byers’s living room one Friday evening, arguing about what movie to play when Argyle threw something out into the room that stopped everyone in their tracks. “Don’t you think we should be worried about whether any of these movies have closed captioning?”

Everyone turned to look at him with wide eyes, but it was Dustin who answered first. “Why would we need to do that? Our choices become so much more limited.” He waved his hands in front of him like his statement was apparent and obvious to everyone.

Argyle tilted his head in confusion, the line between his brows deepening. “You guys don’t think your babysitter might want to understand what’s happening in whatever movie we decide on? There’s this guy I used to sell weed to that lost his hearing to a sickness. He spoke pretty highly of closed captioning.”

Dustin looked troubled as the words sank in. “Why would Steve need the captions, Argyle?”

Taking in the room around him, Argyle suddenly understood the blank faces looking back at him. Though he noticed that Steve only verbally responded when he was facing the person talking to him, maybe the rest of the group didn’t. Maybe they took in the continual head tilt to the left as a regular thing and needed an outsider to show them the way. “The dude can’t hear, man.”

It was like those words were magical, suddenly clicking many now obvious things into place. Dustin turned to Robin who was turning to Nancy nervously asking if she knew, if anyone in the whole goddamn place had any sort of clue. The whole revelation shook everyone to the core.

“How did we never pick up on this?” Nancy asked, voicing the question they all were thinking.

Dustin scoffed, bringing some dramatics to the table. “I think the better question is – how do we figure it out for sure without cueing him in on the fact that we didn’t actually know until now?”

There was a collective blush that everyone in the group shared – Steve had been their friend for years now, not noticing something so debilitating for him certainly wasn’t the best evidence of their commitment to his friendship.

It was Max, of all people, that spoke up next. “Maybe we should listen to Argyle. Find a movie with the captions and see how he reacts.” She looked pleased with herself when several heads nodded all at once.

“That’s a good idea. I’ll see if Suzy can help us out.”

By the time Steve knocked on the door after finishing his shift at work, there was a solid plan in place. And while each of his friends were internally freaking out about the news they’d just come to understand, Steve had no idea anything was amiss. He calmly nodded his head at the suggested movie choice and sat happily amongst the group while the film played. Their lives had changed that day, whether Steve knew it or not.

----

Of course, Steve Harrington was not as dim witted as people figured him to be. It didn’t take him long to notice that Dustin and Robin were paying much closer attention to him. That, during their next movie night, a movie with closed captions suddenly appeared on the screen. While he appreciated the ability to follow the story, Steve wasn’t dumb enough to miss the change. Luckily, Dustin was verbose in a way that easily allowed Steve to get secrets from him.

He'd been asked by Mrs. Henderson to look after Dustin for the weekend. They had the whole house to themselves and the Star Wars trilogy waiting for them. With the closed captions, Steve actually understood the fuss of the series after they finished up A New Hope. He was fiddling with the next VHS when an elbow to his ribs caught his attention, instead.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” Dustin asked. He made sure that Steve could see him when he posed the question.

Steve tilted his head, trying to make sense of the look on Dustin’s face. The question was off the wall – and completely indecipherable. “Tell you what?”

Dustin jabbed him in the ribs again, letting out an exasperated sigh. “That you’re deaf, Steve!” The words were said loud enough that Steve didn’t need his years of experience reading Dustin’s lips to translate.

“It’s hard to believe that you never figured it out, smart guy.” Steve shrugged his shoulders then, trying to brush the whole conversation away. His inability to hear hadn’t affected anything between him and Dustin before – why would it start now?

Except, everyone seemed to suddenly be interested in testing his inability to hear. He caught Robin shouting behind his back, though only because she was sprawled out on the floor banging a fist as she spoke. If he hadn’t turned around when he did, Steve was certain he would’ve missed the whole thing. He looked at her innocently, though, his eyes wide when he asked – “did you say something, Robin?”

Between that and Nancy’s pitying looks, Steve was more than ready to lash out, to finally say something about it when the necessity was taken out of his hands. At the next big group movie night, Steve walked into a viper pit waiting for him at the kitchen table. Everyone was there, looking at him curiously, seeming as if they might have something to say. Jonathan, the brave soul, was the one who stood up for the table.

“This is probably odd, seeing us all like this, but we, as a collective group, want to know why you never thought to tell us you couldn’t hear. You’re our friend, Steve – we could’ve been making things easier on you for ages now if we knew.” His cheeks were red, like admitting that kind of care for Steve was a hard thing to do. And maybe it was, the tension between him and Jonathan hadn’t ever subsided, no matter how many times they saved the world together.

Steve looked around the room, absolutely perplexed by the watery eyes and curious glances. His hearing loss was gradual and happened over a long period of time – and though Steve never went out of his way to say anything to anyone, many of the accommodations he had to make for himself were pretty telling. At least, he always figured they were. After a moment of thought, Steve decided on the same approach he took with Dustin – “You guys didn’t know?”

That non-answer opened up a whole can of worms that quickly turned movie night into question palooza. Everyone wanted to know when and how and what he did to keep up with everything. The whole group joined in on the questioning, except Eddie who stayed leaned back in his seat, watching Steve, instead. He continued just like that throughout the entire interrogation, his eyes never leaving Steve. Despite the fact that the stare was a little odd, Steve appreciated the restraint – one of the reasons Steve never made a group announcement was because he didn’t want this sort of attention. He’d been able to navigate his way through okay so far; what would people knowing actually change?

The answer to that was a lot. Especially between him and Eddie. At the end of the night, after answering what felt like the same question a billion times, Steve got a couple minutes of peace. He was sitting in the driver’s seat of his car waiting for Dustin, tunelessly singing along to the Madonna song he remembered from before the hearing loss. He was so wrapped up in the memory that he jumped out of his seat when a hand landed on his shoulder. Steve forgot he even had the window down, making him even more on edge.

“Shit, you scared me,” Steve said breathily. He turned in the seat to better face the hand’s owner – a wide smile overtook his face when he realized it was Eddie. “What’s up, Munson?”

Eddie was silent for a second, just taking Steve in. “I bet you’re kind of overwhelmed with all of this,” Eddie finally said, breaking his silence. He leaned forward, resting against the open window. Steve fought the urge to shift away – with Eddie so close, Steve could almost feel the steady puff of Eddie’s breaths.

He shook his head of the thought – Eddie was attempting to be empathetic. “That’s an understatement,” Steve forced himself to reply. He was suddenly grateful words hadn’t failed him; Eddie’s face lit up at Steve’s ready answer.

“You gotta cut them some slack. They all thought one thing and then you came in and changed the game. It’ll settle down.” He looked like he actually believed those words, too. Like he understood the sentiment but was smart enough (or not attached to Steve enough) to keep his questions and worries to himself. Steve was thankful for that, regardless of the reason.

“I’m sure it will. Dustin is finally talking to me without the pinch between his eyebrows, at least.” Steve chuckled at that – his little buddy’s penchant for the dramatics was going to give him premature wrinkles. Eddie’s hand bumping his shoulder again had him focusing back on the other boy with a sheepish smile. He shrugged and delivered a half-baked “sorry” for good measure.

Eddie shrugged him off, the long lengths of his hair shaking with the gesture. Steve watched the brunette curls, fascinated by the shift. He almost missed the glint in Eddie’s eye when he looked back to him to continue the conversation – thankfully, he got to see the sparkle Steve was certain he’d never forget.

“I think I have an idea that might help you get a little sound back, but you’ll have to put up with some metal to test it out.” Eddie looked excited at the prospect, and that was more than enough for Steve.

“I’m game to try – whoever said that silence was golden hadn’t lost their hearing.” Steve winked for good measure, making sure Eddie knew he was joking. Though, the gesture wasn’t necessary – Eddie’s head was tossed back as he laughed, elongating his pale neck. In that moment, Steve was stuck between wanting to know what that laugh sounded like and feeling pale skin under his fingertips. He wondered, only for a second, if reaching out and touching Eddie’s neck would answer both of those questions.

“You’re funny, Harrington.” Eddie’s cheeks were lined with smile marks, he lips pulled back. It was so easy for Steve to stare at that luscious sight. So much that he didn’t miss a word of what Eddie said next. “Swing by my place tomorrow after your shift. I’ll have everything ready.”

And though Steve had no idea what that meant or the sort of situation he’d be walking into, he nodded his head eagerly. Out of all the interventions being tossed his way, Steve was actually interested in what Eddie might bring to the table. The guy was odd and unique and always thought outside the box – whatever idea he came up with, Steve knew it’d at least be interesting.

Which is how he found himself standing outside of Eddie’s trailer the next evening, trying hard to tamper down the anticipation threatening to overwhelm him. He raised his fist to knock, allowing the tactile motion to soothe him. It wasn’t long after Steve stepped back from the door that Eddie was pulling it open, smiling widely. “Come on in, Stevie. The bedroom is at the end of the hall.”

Steve took the wide swing of Eddie’s arm as a gesture to follow him inside. His eyes scanned over the place like they always did when he and Eddie hung out – both Eddie and his uncle were eclectic, and the things scattered around their front room absolutely drove that point home. Steve appreciated the life and realness Eddie’s place always portrayed. Though, his curiosity was peaked even more when Eddie led him past the living room and into the small bedroom at the end of the hall.

He wanted so badly to snoop around and see more of Eddie, but three large speakers spread across the far wall stopped him. Steve turned away from all of the things calling his name to take in Eddie, instead. The boy looked excited and nervous, both emotions coyly vying for triumph along his cheeks and lips. For a moment, Steve wanted to reach out and smooth the worry line between Eddie’s eyebrows. The urge to do so was gone the second Eddie nodded his head towards the bed, though. So many – other – thoughts took precedence.

“Take a seat with your back pressed against the wall. I’m going to turn some music on.” Eddie turned towards the put together stereo, giving Steve the opportunity to hop onto the bed and do as he was prompted. He leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes.

They snapped open a moment later – the wall behind him had started to jump and move against his back. He looked worriedly over at Eddie, who only shrugged as he joined Steve on the bed. Eddie copied Steve’s position, leaning heavily into the wall.

With Eddie next to him, Steve forgot about his concern. If Eddie wasn’t worried about his walls moving and shaking, why should Steve? It took well into the second song for Steve to realize that the thump he was feeling was the residual beat of the music. If he closed his eyes and focused hard enough, Steve could make out the difference between the chorus and the bridge just by the change in the wall’s movements. It was a beautiful thing, to finally have a way to appreciate music again.

Steve and Eddie sat like that all the way through the front side of the tape. Only then did Eddie turn to him with an unspoken question in his eyes. Steve absorbed that look, trying hard to memorize it, before even thinking to speak. “Metals not so bad.”

Once again, Eddie threw his head back with a laugh, though this time, Steve didn’t hesitate to reach out. He took the same idea as the wall and used the palm of his hand to press against the flat of Eddie’s sternum. He felt the vibration in Eddie’s chest before the oddity of Steve’s move brought an end to Eddie’s laughter. There was a tense second where Steve thought he’d made the wrong move; then, Eddie’s hand was closing around Steve’s wrist. He used that grip to bring Steve’s palm to his mouth – with the softest press of his lips, Eddie kissed the skin there.

“Eddie, I – “ Steve started to say, though his own overwhelm stopped him. His entire being was focused on Eddie’s grip and the tingling skin where plump lips just were. It was hard to process anything when his brain was stuck on the fact that Eddie kissed him – even if it was just his palm.

Eddie seemed to understand that because he gave Steve’s wrist a squeeze, saying “it’s okay, Steve. I know,” with a smile. He let his touch linger for a couple more heartbeats before dropping Steve’s hand completely to get up and start the music up again. His nimble hands quickly got the tape flipped over to the B side, then Eddie joined Steve back on the bed. This time, as they settled in, Eddie grabbed Steve’s hand right away, placing it back on his chest. Steve was about to ask why when he felt the vibrations start up again, both against his back and underneath his palm. He didn’t need to look at Eddie to know the older boy was singing along with the music.

----

The peace of being Upside Down free made the transition from unknown almost deaf kid to a known one a lot easier to swallow. Not only did his friends try their best to make life a little easier for him, but Steve finally went to the doctor to get some help. Joyce Byers came barreling into Family Video one day with a determined look in her eyes. Steve was concerned for a grand total of five seconds when she walked in the door – then her face softened the second she saw him, and all the worry melted away. Ever since the Byers came back from California and Hopper made his way back from the dead, he and Joyce were like the groups’ surrogate parents. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to him that she demanded he accept her help.

Despite not wanting to have that much attention drawn to his hearing loss, Steve was unable to do anything other than nod his head and allow her to present all the footwork she’d already done. She spent quite a bit of time talking about all the research she did when Jonathan and Will first told her about Steve’s inability to hear. It was touching to see all of the names and numbers she was equipped with before Steve even agreed to accept her help. What was it about big brown eyed brunettes that made him so weak?

In the end, Joyce’s thorough research and tenacious attitude had him before a doctor that specialized in head trauma and hearing loss. Dr. Suthers helped tremendously. And while it was confirmed that Steve was never going to get his hearing back, the promised outcome of the use of hearing aids left Steve feeling hopeful. Until, of course, he got the damn things.

During the fitting, all Steve was worried about was the residual sound he could actually hear from them. He didn’t take into account that they would add a certain aesthetic to his look that didn’t quite match up. They were blocky and large, easily standing out behind his ears no matter what he tried to do with his hair. It took several rounds of everyone asking where they were for Steve to actually wear them for the first time.

Giving the hearing aids a chance was a genuine game changer for Steve, though. He could suddenly make out tones and pitch, bringing the world’s soundtrack back into play. It was easier to know who was talking to him and distinguish between voices. He still needed to read lips and rely heavily on the empathetic talents he’d been garnering, but the aids helped. They really did.

Of course, something that brought such a change to his life also had its downsides. With the inclusion of noise back into the mix, Steve’s migraines started to amp back up. He’d been getting them since the first beating he took but never at the intensity in which the headache hit after his first full week of wearing the hearing aids all day, every day. Waking up that Saturday morning, Steve was stuck in the curled up position he’d awoken in. He probably would’ve stayed that way too if it weren’t for the thundering of feet up his stairs sometime later.

He hissed as the door opened and light from the hallway filtered into the room. “Please, whoever you are, shut the door,” Steve groaned from his spot on the bed. He hadn’t put in his hearing aids, so Steve never heard the door close, or the soft steps taken towards the bed.

It was the coolness of the rings on the back of his neck that finally cued Steve into who was in his room. Steve tried to turn his head into the touch, but it throbbed in rebellion. He squeezed his eyes shut, instead. “Eddie?” Steve asked.

A hand carding through his hair was his only answer for a while. The rhythmic petting lulled Steve into a mind space where sleep wasn’t all that far off. He felt the entirety of his body relax under the tender ministrations. They stopped, just for a second – that pause came with a shift on the bed and added weight next to him. “I was with Robin earlier, waiting for you to show up for lunch at the diner, when she mentioned your migraines.” Eddie’s voice was soft as he started up the soft shift of his fingers through Steve’s hair again. “I’m glad I came to check up on you, pretty boy. You look like shit.”

Despite the fact that he missed quite a bit of what Eddie said, Steve smiled, anyway. Whatever the reason Eddie decided to come around, Steve was grateful to have him so nearby. They were slowly starting to settle into an easy relationship, blurring the lines between friends and something more without much effort or thought. It was the quiet moments, where Eddie held him close in the silence, that Steve thought he might be a little in love with Eddie Munson.

After that, Steve worked to find a balance when wearing the hearing aids. It took a lot of trial and error, and even more migraine attacks, to figure out the right recipe. Luckily, he had the best friends who not only took care of him, but accepted him, too. Robin and Nancy were well on their way to being fluent in ASL, surprising him each time he saw them with a new greeting or strung together group of words. It was touching to see them work so hard just to make his life a little easier.

Steve genuinely wouldn’t have been anywhere without Eddie, though. Between the migraines and everlasting need to repeat himself, Steve was surprised the older boy still wanted to stick around. Steve knew it was work to simply be near him. Trying to be with him must’ve felt like a full time job. Yet, Eddie prevailed every time. When the self-consciousness of wearing hearing aids out in public got to Steve, Eddie kissed his cheek and smiled, making it all better with his sort-of boyfriend magic. He was selfless and caring and went out of his way to procure Steve the loudest, most instrument heavy music he could find (and stand, let’s be honest). It was difficult for Steve to find fault in the genuine way Eddie cared for him. Like he expected absolutely nothing in return.

Though, that changed, too. During one of the late shifts Steve worked on his own, Eddie came in about an hour before closing time. That wasn’t all that weird of an occurrence – despite the fact that they weren’t technically dating yet, Steve and Eddie were hard to find without the other. On nights like this one, Eddie would sit on the counter and babble while Steve rewound tapes and commented back when he could. It was an easy way to spend time together without the pressure of defining who they were to each other.

Except, Eddie had a certain look in his eye when he walked in that immediately made Steve stop what he was doing so the older boy had his full attention. He reached up to turn his hearing aids back on, though an all too familiar hand on his arm stopped him. Steve was about to speak out loud, to ask what was up when Eddie’s next move brought tears to his eyes. Suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, Eddie was signing at him.

Steve was too overwhelmed to pick up on what Eddie said the first time, so Steve moved his own hands, asking him to sign again. Eddie’s eyes lit up in recognition, and his smile – fuck, his smile was everything. It was a legitimate force to make his eyes stray from the sight of that smile; though, Steve was certainly glad that he did.

“Will you go out with me?” Eddie asked again, his fingers moving flawlessly through the words. He looked to be almost as good as Steve was.

Pushing passed the surprise of Eddie’s hidden skill, Steve nodded eagerly. How, in a moment he’d been dreaming about, that was so much more perfect than his every fantasy, could Steve ever say no?

One date turned into four which easily shifted into months of being Eddie Munson’s boyfriend. In a lot of ways, nothing really changed. Steve was still a co-parent to six unruly teens who were getting more and more sassy as the days went on. They spent almost all of their time with the crew – with the added bonus of sitting on each other’s laps and holding hands when the mood struck. All of the party, Jane included, weren’t surprised at all when Steve and Eddie told them about the change in their relationship. Most of the crew already thought they were together. So, the transition was easy.

Yet, in the same way that things didn’t really change, Steve saw some differences, too. Eddie was a tactile person from the get-go, though Steve didn’t realize how touch starved he was until they really started dating. Eddie always wanted to have a hand on him, whether it was a finger in Steve’s belt loop, or the entirety of his hand tangled with Eddie’s. Steve saw it in the way Eddie’s protective nature increased tenfold. Before, when Steve ran into trouble with impatient people, Eddie seethed silently in the background. Now, he didn’t hesitate to say something in Steve’s defense. It was kind (and intolerably attractive), but Steve could take care of himself. He started wearing a button that said ‘hard of hearing – please speak where I can see you’ to cut down on the looks Keith sent him when Eddie slipped into attack dog mode.

The biggest change, however, was the softness in which Eddie handled Steve. In all of his relationships, Steve never experienced the tender sort of commitment Eddie brought to the life they were slowly building between them. While they bickered and snipped like all couples did, Steve never left an argument feeling flayed open like his experiences before. Eddie cared with every aspect of his being, which allowed Steve to give more of himself, too. The give and take was of equal measure and when it came down to it, Steve could see nothing but future, and more future where Eddie was concerned. He didn’t know much about love, but Steve was certain he’d gotten so very lucky in it.

Saying that, however, was Steve’s only real issue when it came to his relationship with Eddie. He knew it was spoken loudly in his actions; Steve wasn’t dense enough to believe he was anything other than a love struck putz at all times. And he understood that behaving like a person in love showed the sentiment – Steve could easily say that Eddie loved him, too, just by that criteria alone. Yet, the urge to say it, to put it out in the open for Eddie to truly be pricy to – that never went away. So much so that Steve practiced saying it aloud in the mirror. When the time was right, he wanted it to be perfect.

Except, there was no such thing as the right time or perfection when life was so unpredictable.

Steve had taken to going to Eddie’s Corroded Coffin practices after he realized how much sound he could absorb in the presence of strong amps and loud drums. He got a certain sort of enjoyment from sitting against Eddie’s amp with his fingers on the grates, feeling the beat as it passed through the speaker. Steve took his hearing aids out and let the pulse of the music carry him away.

It was one such practice that Steve caught Eddie eyeing him from the corner of Gareth’s garage. The rest of the band was scattered around, distracted by the new song they’d been working on throughout the week. Steve beamed in Eddie’s direction, nodding his head in greeting. It was glorious to see Eddie return his smile. Though, Steve was taken aback when Eddie shifted his guitar to his back and brought his hands up. It was with wide eyes that Steve saw Eddie tell him he loved him for the first time. Despite the fact that they were in the middle of a band practice stuffed into the tight confines of Gareth’s garage, Steve teared up. He quickly signed it back, happy, for once, that they were amongst a small group of people who spoke the language. That moment, the one Steve had been waiting for, was just for them.

Before Eddie could start the car a little while later, Steve grabbed Eddie’s hands, forcing his attention. “You love me?” Steve signed, mouthing the words with his lips for good measure.

Eddie shifted in his seat, looking intently at Steve. “Yeah, Steve. I love you.”

And wasn’t that something, seeing the sign Eddie chose for Steve strung together with words that never meant so much.

Steve smiled, letting his hands move through the sign so Eddie got those words back. Then, he filled up the space between them, grabbed Eddie’s cheeks, and kissed him hard. So hard, in fact, that their teeth clacked, and the edge of Eddie’s canine dug into the plumpness of Steve’s bottom lip. There was a shared moan and an eager tilt of Steve’s head before the kiss deepened and the thought of being outside Gareth’s house suddenly flew out the window. Eddie’s hands were hot on his shoulders, gripping Steve there to yank him closer, despite the center console between them.

It would’ve continued in such a crazy whirlwind if it wasn’t for the slip of Eddie’s elbow in his haste to pull Steve to him. It smacked against the wheel, hitting the horn loud and long, yanking them apart. Steve’s hearing aids, that he put back in when the fellas finished up, crackled with static. Reaching up, Steve yanked them both out of his ears, breathing heavily.

“Let’s go back to my house,” Steve signed, looking slightly sheepish. “We’ll have the place to ourselves.”

----

Out of all the changes in Steve’s life because of the hearing loss, the one he appreciated most was the shift in physical intimacy. Maybe a lot of that had to do with Eddie, who worked hard to make sure Steve enjoyed every second of their time together. Steve had a feeling, though, that losing one sense made some of the other’s a little extra sensitive. Until Eddie came around, Steve didn’t pay attention to any of the encounters he had to really understand the change. That was probably what made Eddie even more special – he had this way of taking Steve out of his head so the physical stuff was all the more consuming.

Steve noticed it the most when kissing. As they stumbled upstairs to Steve’s room, their lips never left each other. In that time period, Steve mapped out the subtle wrinkles in Eddie’s lips and the blunt nature of his teeth. He knew the feel of the bumps on Eddie’s tongue and the huff of breath against his upper lip. Never mind the fact that Eddie’s hands were shoved into Steve’s hair, gently tugging on the strands to keep Steve exactly where he wanted him. They shared a lot of kisses in the lifetime of their relationship, and yet, Steve learned something new every time.

He appreciated the supple lengths of skin on Eddie’s shoulders and chest as he stripped his boyfriend down to just his usual black jeans. It was nice to take in the feel of coarse hair under his skin – since he learned of Eddie’s happy trail, Steve was unable to keep his hands away from it. Or his mouth for that matter. Steve peppered Eddie’s chest and stomach with kisses, stopping every so often to press his left ear to the flat of Eddie’s sternum – the thump of Eddie’s heart against his cheek never ceased to drive him wild.

Without the hearing aids and the use of his lip reading skills, Steve was forced to tune into Eddie’s body in a way that heightened the entire experience. He loved to watch Eddie’s chest rise and fall a little quicker when Steve cleverly worked Eddie’s pants and belt open. Steve only need to tap Eddie’s hip a couple of times to have a little help getting the offensive clothes down trim legs and out of his way.

That wasn’t to say that the things Eddie did to him in return didn’t heighten his senses. Steve was always surprised by the quick flashes of Eddie’s strength – they generally only came out to play when they were in bed together, but the sentiment remained. He easily shifted onto his back, allowing Eddie to settle his weight over him. When Steve closed his eyes, his skin seemed to light up and every glorious inch Eddie traced with his fingers sent a bolt of heat straight to his cock. There were times, when things first began for them, that Steve came apart just from the simplicity of Eddie’s touch.

Soon, though, Steve was panting below Eddie as the older boy opened him up with two fingers while sucking his brain out through his dick. His chest was covered in sweat, the thick patch of hair he now refused to shave, was matted down, making Steve feel hot and sticky. He was trying his hardest not to thrust his hips into Eddie’s mouth, but the knowing nudge of fingertips against his prostate made that so much harder. His patience was wearing thin – though, the torture was so very divine.

Finally getting to the point where he was unable to hold himself together, Steve said Eddie’s name out loud. Since they didn’t do a lot of talking during, the spoken word would absolutely get Eddie’s attention. Sure enough, lust blown brown eyes were taking him in. It was funny, even, to see his lube coated fingers moved through the sign for okay.

Steve nodded his head, though he reached out to grab Eddie’s arm, so the conversation wasn’t cut short. “I need you to fuck me – now,” Steve signed, a saucy little grin on his face. After all this time, twisting his fingers into that demand never got old. Especially because Eddie’s face reddened with embarrassment and want, each and every time. They shared a look before Eddie nodded and moved to get himself ready.

Surprisingly enough, Steve enjoyed the heavy weight of Eddie pressing him down – he never expected to like feeling immobile. It quickly became easy to understand why when he felt the rumble of Eddie’s moans for the first time. Ever since, Steve appreciated the way Eddie kept their chests together as he pressed inside. Steve always knew, long before he felt the sting of it, when Eddie bottomed out – there was a certain moan Eddie couldn’t contain that cued him in. Steve’s entire body lit up whenever he felt it.

Unlike sex before, which always seemed like some sort of race to an orgasm, things between him and Eddie took time. It was suddenly nice to be able to run his hands up and down the long length of his partner’s back, feeling the shift of muscle and goosebumps in his touch’s wake. Steve appreciated the slow transition from pain to pleasure that Eddie’s soft kisses and subtle hip thrusts always brought about.

And that wasn’t to say that passion and intensity didn’t overtake them. With someone like Eddie inside of him quite often, Steve understood blinding need. Even then, the build-up was colossal and overwhelming in a way that sex never was before.

The best part, though, was always the peaking crescendo. As Eddie’s hips started to move in a rhythm that made no sense, Steve took in all the other bodily cues pointing towards the end. He was close enough not to worry about his own orgasm because one thrust in the right spot would smack him over the edge. Instead, he paid attention to the harsh breaths panted into his neck with every thrust. Eddie’s skin got a little redder, pulling the paleness away to replace it with a shimmering sort of glow. Steve loved the way Eddie’s grip got a little tighter on his hips and the impossibility of saying anything but Steve’s name set in. The rumble of it in his chest was recognizable after so many moments of Steve clinging to that knowledge.

In the aftermath, Steve held Eddie in his arms, keeping his warm body close. Eddie’s heart took a while to settle back to a normal beat, so Steve reveled in the rhythm that was only for him for as long as he could. He placed soft kisses against Eddie’s forehead and nosed in his hair. Though the hearing loss took away his ears, Steve was happy to know that it gave him back so much more. Being so folded up in Eddie the way he was, it was insane to think he would’ve gotten there any other way.

----

So in love and completely absorbed by it, Steve didn’t realize that several months had flown by. He was happy in his job and finally able to be with friends that cared about him in tangible ways Steve wasn’t before. It was easy to lose a little time when the days were marked by getting to see Eddie and time spent with their very large family.

It was almost a surprise then, when Eddie showed up at his door with a corny party hat on. His face was split with a wide smile that went nowhere as he signed “happy birthday” with a flourish. Despite the fact that Steve hadn’t even remembered it was his birthday, he signed back a thank you and tried to drag Eddie inside.

“Not so fast, sweetheart.” Eddie waved his hand to get Steve to stop. “We’ve got somewhere to be.”

Steve was slightly cautious the entire drive, but the sight of the Byers’s place immediately calmed him down. Over the last year or so, Joyce and Hopper’s cabin in the woods was a second home to everyone. The place was big and had open space for the whole party to always feel comfortable there. Steve immediately felt at ease upon seeing one of his favorite places.

He didn’t need to ask why they were there when they got out of the van – all of the bikes turned over onto the grass were pretty hard to miss. Nonetheless, Steve let Eddie pull him through the side door where everyone was waiting for him. Without missing a beat, Eddie pushed Steve until he was in the center of everyone. Joyce, who’d snuck in from the kitchen, was carrying in a cake with twenty lit candles flickering all over it. If that wasn’t enough to bring tears to his eyes, Steve looked up to see his entire group of friends signing him the happy birthday song. He watched amazed, as everyone, Jane, Lucas, Dustin, even Hopper, moved their hands in perfect coordination.

He always tried to lean into the group’s acceptance, to cling to the fact that they all took him as the dad or brother or friend that he was. Yet, the moment hit him so hard that he finally realized he could truly be himself for the first time.

Steve didn’t have a chance to blow out the candles before the entire group was gathering around him, pulling him into a puppy pile of a hug. Squeezing his eyes shut, Steve didn’t need to have the ability to hear to know they were all saying ‘I love you’.

He simply leaned into the embrace and allowed it wash over him.

[beels-burger-babe]

Beelzebub's Very Bad No Good Day

***So this is the new format in which I'll be answering requests. In my experience, actual posts get spread further than asks do, so this will hopefully help with that. ANYWAY, I am crazy excited about this request as a major Beel simp and YES I will proudly do this request! Thank you @sinnoman for blessing me with it. -B*** Summary: Beel doesn't get anything to eat one day, and it doesn't go well for anybody.

From the moment Beelzebub woke up, he knew that today was going to be a terrible day. For starters, he had apparently raided the fridge in his sleep the night before, so there was not a crumb left in the house for anyone to make breakfast with. Most of the others had gone and grabbed something from Hell's Kitchen on their way to class, but poor Beel had slept through his alarm due to the food coma his nighttime snack had put him in and had to rush to RAD. The entire school was talking about the monster that they believed had awoken beneath the school. Teachers were on edge ready to evacuate the premises for the earthquake they believed to be happening. Beel avoided eye contact, blushing as his empty stomach continued to rumble and roar throughout the day. He ended up eating a few pencils just to get it to quiet down and even that didn't have much effect. The Avatar of Gluttony nearly cried tears of relief when the lunch bell rang. But it seemed that fate was not his friend that day. He was going to order a gargantuan-sized Little Devil mango slushy, a side of Hellfire curry rice, fried shadow bat, and 108 seed salad and the main course of at least twenty shadow hog burgers with three servings of caramel shadow tart for dessert. Beel was drooling at just the thought of it. He was almost at the ordering station when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Beel growled and turned around, baring his teeth at whoever dared to disturb him.

Belphegor narrowed his eyebrows in concern. "Woah. Beel, relax. It's just me. We've got a student council meeting, and Lucifer has threatened to take away supper from whoever skips out." Beelzebub scoffed as the air around him darkened at the mention of someone taking food away from him. "I'd like to see him try." Belphie raised an eyebrow at his twin's uncharacteristically grumpy behaviour. "Are you alright, Beel?" As though to answer his question, Beel's stomach let out another loud roar, causing several students to flinch and Beel to scowl in frustration. "I'm hungry." Belphie's frown deepened. Beel was always hungry, but he didn't usually let it get to him like this. The younger twin rifled through his own bag before pulling out an obviously full paper bag. "You can have my lunch if you want. I ate a little bit of it during class and swiped a bagel from Mammon during the first period, so I'm not all that-" Before he could finish Beel ripped the bag out of Belphie's hands and devoured it, bag and all. Belphie blinked at his now empty hand and chuckled as Beel chewed. "Man, you must be starving huh?"

Beelzebub merely grunted and continued to chew before swallowing down the small meal. He glanced back at the lineup in the cafeteria and put a hand on his stomach as he thought about the lunch he should be enjoying. Belphie nudged him. "Come on, big guy. We got to get to that meeting. The sooner we get it over with, the more likely it is that we'll end early and you might be able to grab something before class starts again." Only the meeting was not short and quick like Belphie had said it might be. Diavolo wanted everyone to come up with an idea for a school fundraiser, and Lucifer was arguing with Asmodeus on what was and was not appropriate. To make matters worse, you were unable to attend as, according to Mammon, your charms professor had asked you to stay behind afterwards to discuss your progress in the class. The bickering on top of the lack of food in his stomach was giving Beel a migraine and the longer he sat there, the more irritable he had become. Eventually, it became too much and he snapped. "ENOUGH!" he bellowed, flipping the table as he stood. "No one cares about the stupid fundraiser anyway and you're just wasting all of our time arguing over something that will inevitably fall apart and cause an even bigger mess, just like it always does!" "Beelzebub! Watch your tone in front of-" "Shut it, Lucifer!" his brother's gaped at him in shock as he snarled at their elder. "I am sick and tired of you pushing us all around and punishing us when the slightest thing goes wrong just because you-" Beel poked Lucifer's chest hard enough to make him take a step back, "won't take responsibility for your own mistakes!" "Oh shit," Mammon whispered under his breath, as Lucifer's eyes narrowed and his body tensed in defence. The second-born quickly squeezed his way between the two of them and spread his arms to try and create some distance. "Okay! Tensions are high. People are upset. But this is not the place to brawl it out." he glanced over at Lucifer who looked like he was a second away from stringing him up to the ceiling. "Might I remind ya Lord Diavolo is still in the room?" Lucifer looked over at Diavolo, who appeared to be both hurt and concerned by Beelzebub's words, before sighing and fixing his composure. He gave Beel a hard look. "Obviously something is upsetting you, but we can discuss this at home. For the time being, I recommend you work on calming yourself and clearing your head." Beel just growled at him before stomping out of the student council room. He had been about to re-enter the cafeteria again when the bell rang signalling the end of lunch hour. Beelzebub felt his eye twitch before his demon form burst into existence. He let out a deafening scream as he grabbed a table and threw it across the room (students still seated on it, included). Students were yelling and scrambling like mice as the large demon rampaged through the halls. He tore the locked grate off of the serving station and grabbed the nearest server by the scruff of the collar, causing them to squeak in fear. "I'm hungry," Beel rumbled lowly as the demon trembled in his hands. "Get me something to eat now or I will not hesitate to eat you." "R-R-Right away, Beelzeb-b-bub." Beel carelessly dropped the demon, who scattered off to gather as much food as they could. He began pacing like a caged animal. Having been alerted by all the noise, his brothers and Diavolo rushed into the nearly destroyed cafeteria. Diavolo's jaw dropped. "Beelzebub, what's the meaning of all this?" Beel's famished brain didn't acknowledge Diavolo as an authority at the moment. Instead, he was yet another person trying to keep him from eating. "I need food. NOW!" Lucifer's eyes widened in realization as he whispered something to Diavolo. The prince nodded and took a step back. "I'm sure the cooks are doing all they can to get you food right away. But I need you to control yourself before I am forced to take action." Satan had his phone out and was urgently texting someone, as Belphie moved forward.

"You'll get your food shortly Beel. You just need to wai-" "I don't want to wait!!" There was a part of Beelzebub's brain that was aware he was acting like a child. But his stomach physically hurt from how empty it was. He was tired. He was starving. He didn't have the patience for pleasantries. "I've barely eaten anything all day, and people keep staring and talking about me because my stomach just will not stop growling and I'm so hungry that I can barely think straight! I hate it! But I know it won't go away unless I eat, so I NEED TO EAT!" The brothers looked at Beel in shock. They knew that he ate a lot, but they always passed it off as just another quirk that made him Beel. They didn't know it bothered him like this. They thought back on all the instances where Beel had stated that he was hungry out of nowhere, always with a distressed look on his face. Every single time they had brushed him off. Before any of them could respond, you casually walked into the war zone that was the cafeteria. "Alright Satan, what's so urgent that you needed me so badly?" The room fell quiet as everyone's attention snapped over to you and you took in the situation. It didn't take long for you to connect the dots.

You immediately began to rush over to Beelzebub; Mammon stepped forward to stop you. "Woah, MC! I don't think that's a good idea right now!"

You ignored him and continued to make your way to Beel. Seeing you, the small human that you were, made Beel realize just how reckless he had been acting. He held out his hands to stop you and took a step away. "You should listen to Mammon, MC. I-I haven't eaten all day and I-" "You haven't eaten all day?! Oh god, this is worst than I thought." Beel watched as you slid the oversized backpack that he had seen you carry around RAD with you every day off your back and begin to dump out the contents. In a second, dozens of bags of chips, candy, fruits, and other snacks spilled across the floor in front of the two of you. Beel didn't waste a single moment. He instantly began consuming the snacks, causing you to smile happily. "Wha-What?! MC?! Why the hell do you have that much food on ya?!" Mammon sputtered as he cautiously began to approach you. You shrugged. "Beel gets upset when he's hungry, and I don't like it when he's upset. So I stocked up on some of his favourite snacks a while back and always keep them on me just in case," Beel paused his eating to look up at you in awe, "He can't help that he's always hungry. It's not like he asked to be the Avatar of Gluttony." Suddenly there were a pair of arms wrapped around your waist. Lucifer, Levi, and Mammon called out your name as Beel pulled you tightly against his chest. You just grinned and hugged the friendly giant back. "Thank you," he whispered softly into your hair, his arms tightening around you just a little more. "There's nothing to thank me for." As Beel finally began to calm down, the cooks came out with platters of food and shakily laid them out around you and Beel before taking cover back into the kitchen. Seeing that the threat had passed, the other brothers began to approach as well. "You know Beel, I didn't know you had that much pent-up anger inside of you. It was terrifying!" Asmodeus chirped as he plopped down beside the two of you.

"Yeah! You were just like the antagonist in My Boyfriend Turned Into a Cannabilistic Rage Monster, And Now I Have to Stop Him From Devouring The Whole City!!!" Levi began to ramble about specific scenes from the show that matched perfectly with Beel's rampage, causing Beel to blush as he munched on a burger. Belphie sighed and elbowed Beel as he took his seat at his side. "We'll have to make sure that MC's always around you. Just in case you know?" he smiled softly, before looking at his twin with a more serious expression. "You should've told me about all that stuff you said earlier. I had no idea you felt that away about your appetite." Beel looked away uncomfortably as he took another bite of his food and avoided the question. You snuggled closer to him, to provide him with some comfort. Satan tapped his chin as he watched the group. "I'm sure we could talk with Barbatos and come up with some sort of high-protein shake or bar that would better satisfy you. That way you wouldn't have to eat as much." Lucifer glanced over at Diavolo, silently asking if it was a possibility. The prince smiled warmly. "I'll have Barabatos begin working on something right away." Forgetting all about class and the anger that had previously consumed him, Beel looked around at his family. A warm feeling blossomed in his stomach as he felt content with the rare care and affection that they were openly showing. Maybe it had something to do with the thirty burgers he had already ate, but for just a second, Beel didn't feel so hungry anymore. ***Boy that got a little angsty there for a second, but I hope this was to your liking @sinnoman! I definitely enjoyed writing this one, and I think it made me fall in love with my boy Beel even more 🥰*** TAGLIST: @vampwiire @bunna-does-stuff

[stars-a-n-d-scars]

He never stopped loving you.

This might turn into something more, depending on how well it does. I do have a second scene planned out, based on the song I Almost Do by Taylor Swift, but I'll only write it if people like this. Enjoy!

---

In the end, it had been Lily. Which, in hindsight probably wasn’t that surprising. That woman was terrifying.

It was a Tuesday evening. Probably. It didn’t really matter, anyway. Every evening was the same. James came home at 5:47 PM on the dot, apparating into the living room with a loud crack. Lily screamed something indignant, usually along the lines of “James FLEAMONT POTTER IF YOU DO THAT ONE MORE TIME-” and came stomping down the stairs (which was becoming increasingly more difficult as the months progressed). James greeted her with a winning smile, and she huffed angrily, despite tilting her head to the side so that her husband could plant a kiss on her cheek and consider himself absolved of any consequences for the disturbance. It was sickening. Once, Sirius would have said as much. He would have made an over-exaggerated gagging noise and made some remark about their “stifling domesticity” and ducked to avoid the inevitable bread roll or other similar projectile. Now, he just sat.

Sat in the same place he had every day for the past seven months, on the same hideous orange couch that had been a house-warming present from Mad-Eye, staring at the same patch of mildew in the corner of the ceiling, watching as it slowly grew larger. Today, it looked like a wombat wearing a toupee.

He sat and he didn’t say anything, because he knew that if opened his mouth to say anything other than “I’m fine”, “How’s the baby?” or “Yes, James, I’m really fine”, he would start crying and never stop. It had taken him months to even be able to say those three sentences. What would happen if he made an attempt to poke fun at the Potters’ love, when it was the very thing he craved?

“You don’t have to be alone, you know”, Lily said that night, over dinner. Sirius made a non-committal grunt of acknowledgment and went back to pushing his mashed potato around on his plate until it vaguely resembled Italy. They’d had this conversation before. Lily would try to set Sirius up with one of her friends, he would say he wasn’t “looking for anything serious”, and the three of them would automatically look to the empty chair beside Sirius in anticipation of a pun that no one else ever made. Needless to say, they were met with silence.

“I know where he is”. Sirius froze. That was new.

“I know where he is, Sirius. And I know that you still love him. And I know that I shouldn’t be telling you this, but for fuck’s sake, it’s been seven months, Sirius!” The Sirius in question was still stuck on ‘I know where he is’.

But he didn’t look up. Instead, he carefully inspected what could have been Matera, realised that he wasn’t getting out of talking this time, and said the words he hadn’t been able to utter since that night seven months ago when he’d wept them into James’ shoulder, screaming inside but unable to do anything but cry and choke out the same phrase over and over again.

“He doesn’t love me anymore”.

Sirius expected Lily to sigh. He expected her to yell, or to give him the cold shoulder, or maybe even to kick him out. What he didn’t expect was for Lily to laugh.

It wasn’t Lily’s laugh, though. Lily’s laugh was pealing, like a bell. Lily’s laugh travelled on the wind as she raced past the Great Lake, fleeing James and his threats of tickles. Lily’s laugh curled around your heart and made you feel safe, at home. Lily’s laugh made sure you knew it was laughing with you, not at you. This laugh was not that. This laugh was cold, bitter, and achingly familiar. It was a laugh of spite, of irony. A laugh of “of fucking course this is happening, because everything just wasn’t enough”. It was the only laugh any of them had really been able to utter since... well. Since.

“You don’t actually fucking believe that, do you?”

“Lily...” James started, but immediately backed off, not wanting to be the subject of Lily’s newfound, and frankly, terrifying anger.

“Yes Lily, I do believe it. Because he told me. Himself” Sirius replied calmly, still not looking up from his mash (which was now looking less like Italy and more like a carrot).

“Did he? Did he really, Sirius? Because I think you’ve had seven months to think about what Remus said to you that night-” both James and Sirius visibly flinched at the name, but Lily continued “- and I always knew you were an idiot, but I never thought you were so dumb as to not realise why he left you! Look at me Sirius. Look at me and tell me what he said to you. God knows its all you think about. Tell me, word for word, what Remus said to you that night and then if you still think he doesn’t love you, I’ll leave you alone for good”.

Finally, finally, Sirius looked up. He looked across the table, into those piercing green eyes that could always get anything out of him. And he told the truth.

“He said that it wasn’t working anymore. He said that too much had changed and... and he said that I wasn’t worth it, Lils. If that’s not an un-declaration of love, then I don’t know what is” Sirius went to stand, but was stopped by an iron-firm grip on his wrist.

“Sirius Orion Black, how fucking THICK CAN YOU BE?!” Sirius was so taken aback that he fell right back into his seat. Lily never yelled. And yet, here she was. And she wasn’t done, either.

“If anything, that was him saying that he DOES love you! He saw what it was doing to you, him having to leave for missions in the middle of the night, and he knew it wasn’t worth it! He knew that having you, getting to be in a relationship with you, getting to LOVE you, wasn’t worth your unhappiness. And before you tell me that’s stupid, because you’re even more unhappy now than you were then, THINK ABOUT WHO WE’RE TALKING ABOUT. This is REMUS. Stupid, amazing, self-sacrificing Remus. Remus who always thinks that the best way to solve a problem is to remove himself entirely. Don’t you see, Sirius, he was trying to PROTECT YOU! Because he LOVES YOU. And I’m willing to bet the little bastard giving me cravings and nausea every morning that he hasn’t stopped loving you.”

Sirius sat in silence. He sat and he took it all in. He sat there for what could have been hours, but was probably only a few minutes, and thought about what Lily had said. Then, silently, he rose to his feet. He walked over to the door of the apartment and grabbed his jacket off the hook. He sat down on the window seat, remembering how he used to find Remus there early in the morning looking out over the city, back when Sirius and James had lived there together, and tied his shoelaces. Then, he stood up, walked to the door, opened it, and turned around.

“Lily?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to need that address.”

[solomonish]

say my name like it’s a bad word (solomon x reader)

sometimes, when Solomon hears others speak his name, it feels more like they're spewing curses than addressing him.

ao3 link: here!

I. Anger

He could see the peak rising above the horizon much sooner than he could the day before. That pleased him - though he wouldn’t let those graciously lending him their powers know.

As he walked into his unfinished temple, he had to dodge a few of his flying demons who passive-aggressively swooped too close to his head. He enjoyed the noise the solid ground made beneath his feet, opposed to the soft earth outside the entrance. With a purposely blank expression, Solomon strode over to a corner of the temple, where one of his more outspoken pacts stomped down clay.

Asmodeus looked up at him as he approached, his brows furrowing. If he wasn’t already out of breath from the strenuous work Solomon had ordered him to do, he probably would have groaned loud enough to halt the progress around him. His hair, stuck to his brow with sweat, still managed to look perfect and keep its style. Keeping his voice level, Solomon said as much.

“Oh, thank you!” Asmodeus chirped, wiping away his frustration for a moment to flash a faux grin. “Honestly, for someone like me, it’s hardly a feat to maintain such exquisite looks, but I certainly appreciate you noticing!”

“Someone like you…..” Solomon responded, trailing off as he held his chin in thought. Asmodeus, bound by the command of his pact, kept stomping the clay beneath him, but his upper half seemed completely at ease. There was a sudden fluidity to his movements, one that always warned Solomon to up his guard and covertly cast some safeguards against Asmo’s charms.

“Yes, someone like me! The most bewitching creature in all the realms - but surely, you don’t need a reminder of that,” Adding a purr beneath his words, Asmo leaned forward. Something glinted in his eyes as they slowly bled into a fuchsia hue, and Solomon felt a faint tug at the spell he just cast. “You know, I wouldn’t mind reminding you in other ways. Surely, this has been a test to show how much energy I truly have?”

Solomon perked up, and he could see Asmodeus rejoice, certain his plan had worked. “Really? After all of this, you still have energy?”

“Of course!”

With a hum, Solomon let his hand fall from his chin and smiled sweetly at the demon before him. The pact mark on his hip tingled lightly, a side-effect of the new method of command he was testing out. “Very well. I’ll double your quota and, naturally, expect you to exceed my expectations in a day’s time.”

“What-” His eyes widened and jaw dropped for just a second, wondering both how his plan had been foiled so quickly and how Solomon managed to command him with zero authority in his voice. Against his will, Asmodeus’ stomping quickened, forcing him to lose his theatrics and focus his entire being on his task. “Solomon!” He shouted indignantly, the only word he could get out before his pact holder turned and walked away.

II. Formality

“Solomon,” the voice said, a stiffness around its edges. Stopping in his tracks, Solomon had to squint in the shadows to even see the sorcerer he was meeting. In his opinion, hiding in the shadows beside the comically large bookshelf was a bit overkill for their meeting. While technically a forbidden one, Solomon was confident that, if caught, he would be able to leave unscathed.

"Irin," Solomon returned, hoping his own casual tone would ease away that stifling formality in his acquaintence's voice. "You said you needed to meet with me?"

Tentatively, like a distrusting stray cat, Irin stepped out from the shadows while peering down both ends of the hallway. They were ever the cautious soul, though it stung to see that hesitancy aimed at himself. "Keep your voice down. We don't want to get caught."

Solomon raised an eyebrow. "Why could we not have met elsewhere, then?"

"I only just found it. I wanted to make sure I could hand it to you in person before I found out why you were banished."

The glare Irin leveled him in had his heart sinking. Perhaps hoping that word of his fallout had yet to spread - or that he would not be held in contempt for accusations he could never address or recover from - was too big an ambition, even for Solomon. But the shadowed leaders of the Sorcerer's Society were prone to gossip. That was,after all, part of what demanded such secrecy in this rendezvous.

Glancing down, Solomon saw Irin handing his wand over to him, his lips grimly pressed together in a thin line. Ah, so that's why I couldn’t find it. The drama of the past few weeks had been enough to scramble his mind, and in the chaos of his banishment, Solomon must have dropped his wand as he was forced out. That, or it was stolen and he was never meant to have it back in his possession. Ah, well. Why bother with the semantics of rules he was no longer bound by?

Without a word, Solomon took the wand and tucked it in his waistband,, hidden behind his cloak. To see such solemnity in the exchange of such a ridiculous thing would have been a humorous sight if the atmosphere were lighter. But the air around them hung heavy, heavy enough to have Solomon itching just beneath his skin and craving an exit. As much as the thought hurt when it struck, he realized that there was no call for niceties or a proper goodbye. The icy glare he was leveled in wouldn’t be remedied with an amicable goodbye.

As Solomon made his way down the hall, a second pair of footsteps that were far too light to be Irin’s approached from behind him. He didn’t bother to cast a glance behind him to see who it might be - whoever it was didn’t want to see him, and Solomon was quickly losing interest in the affairs of the society in their entirety.

III. Distrust

“But is that really a good idea?”

“Do you not agree?”

Two voices floated down the corridor as Solomon approached, one like a softly tinkling bell and the other deep and soothing. It seemed that his two companions had started the conversation without him. Either that, or he was hearing part of a conversation that was never meant for his ears.

“It isn’t that, it’s more…” The lighter voice trailed off for a moment. “Are we sure it’s best to throw a newborn lamb in with lions who know far more than they do? Even ignoring how they’d be your only true subject of this exchange program, wouldn’t they have more luck bonding with someone as familiar with this world as they were?”

“Two humans who have no idea what is going on wandering the Devildom? That isn’t the best idea I’ve heard,” Solomon interrupted as he rounded the corner. He had no interest in eavesdropping on a conversation for information he was owed, anyway. “Sorry I’m late.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Diavolo reassured, uncrossing his legs and leaning back in his chair. He gestured towards the assortment of small pastries and tea on the table between the three of them while Simeon picked up his own cup, if only to have something to focus on.

“Nice to see you, Solomon,” Simeon answered cheerily, masterfully hiding the suspicion Solomon knew should be biting at the greeting. Biting the inside of his cheek, Solomon held back any questions he had of Simeon trying to butt him out of the Diavolo’s project. Instead, he nodded in a silent ’nice to see you, too,’ and made himself comfortable on the unoccupied chair in the room.

“Now,” Diavolo started, ignoring the chill hovering in the air, “How are we feeling about this exchange program?”

IV. Annoyance

An indignant shriek filled the dorm as a menacing cloud of violet smoke rose from the pot. Luke watched it in horror, jumping back as the sparks started to fly out of the pan.

“What did you just do?” He yelled. Solomon merely watched in awe, impressed at the show he had created and completely shutting out Luke’s exasperated yapping. Perhaps such marvelling should have waited, because he couldn’t hear the panicked shouts as some of the sparks fell on the ends of his cloak. It took the brunt of Luke’s bodyweight as he pushed Solomon out of the line of literal fire and ran to get the fire extinguisher to snap him out of his daze.

Glancing at the bottom of his cloak, Solomon sighed and snapped his fingers, putting out the fire immediately. Begrudgingly removing the cloak of his shoulders, he lifted the hem to eye level and mourned his loss silently. Moments later, Luke came barreling in the room, letting loose with the fire extinguisher without even looking to see if there was still a flame.

When he was convinced that the fire was out, Luke held Solomon in his best attempt at an upset glare. He ended up looking more like a slightly upset puppy, but Solomon knew when to hold his tongue around the young angel. “Solomon, I told you to stay out of the kitchen! What part of that translated to you as ‘come add ingredients to the pot’?”

Before Solomon could make things worse in his attempt at a defense, Simeon walked in the room, looking like the most graceful being in the world. With his current company, though, it wasn’t such an accomplishment. “Now, now. I’m sure Solomon just wanted to help, right Luke?”

Luke didn’t look convinced, but the practiced smile on Simeon was a clear indication that he should agree. “Yeah, I guess.”

Gently guiding Luke out of the room, Simeon gave that same smile to Solomon. “And he will help by cleaning up this mess while we grab some more ingredients for dinner, right?”

“Yes.”

“Great!”

With that, Simeon ushered Luke out of the room. When they stopped to grab their jackets, Solomon heard Luke whisper, “I thought you were watching him, Simeon.”

Unlike his roommates, Solomon had the wisdom to wait until he heard the door shut to sigh in displeasure.

V. Contempt

At this point, Solomon wasn’t sure whether his repeated showdowns with Lucifer were proving his tenacity and value or deepening the hatred that seemed to run between them.

Still, it was unusual for Lucifer to summon for Solomon in the middle of class, only to stare at him in silence as Solomon fought the instinctive urge to shift where he stood before him. The student council room was empty, save for the spread out papers on the table in front of Lucifer and the two of them. It wasn’t often that Solomon felt unnerved, and certainly not by Lucifer after he heard your tales of how he behaved at home, but that was the closest word he could think of to describe how he felt.

“I needn’t remind you of the perils the Devildom has to offer?” Lucifer asked, his voice cold as ice. “I am not pleased with the state in which you brought MC back the other day.”

What, in once piece? Solomon had to bite his tongue. Lucifer really thought he could lecture his way out of everything, didn’t he? “I apologize,” He lied. Then, more truthfully, “If I could have brought them back with no injuries, I would have.”

Lucifer narrowed his eyes, weaving his fingers together in thought and resting his elbows on the table. “If you are to be so irresponsible, perhaps I should put a stop to these outings?”

The indignation burning in Solomon’s gut made him grimace; he hated feeling like a child, but Lucifer had a way of belittling everyone that way. His protests all sounded like an upset teen arguing with their parents - They were only scrapes and bruises! It was an accident! You can’t dictate everything MC does with their time. You can’t dictate anything I do with mine! - but he held them all back. “I will make sure MC does not get hurt next time they are in my care.”

Lucifer’s eyes flashed red, and Solomon suddenly understood why the horror movies of his realm used that as an indication of evil. “Of course you will. But a little incentive wouldn’t hurt.”

With that, Lucifer stood from his seat, towering over Solomon by at least a foot. He wasn’t in his demon form - RAD rules to accommodate the exchange students - but he didn’t need to. Solomon could feel the threatening aura around him, promises of the harm that would come to him if he went against Lucifer’s wishes surrounding the two like the wind in a firestorm.

This was where Lucifer always lost Solomon’s interest. He wasn’t able to be threatened by promises Lucifer was always too busy to fulfill.

“You may not have much of a life to gamble, Solomon,” Lucifer hissed, and the only indication Solomon gave of his flinch was one quick blink, “but MC is not yours to toy with. Remember that.”

Unwilling to back down in their staring match, Solomon kept his mouth wired shut for a few moments. Lucifer, living up to his sin, also refused to back down, and Solomon realized it was a losing battle.

“I have to get back to class,” Solomon lied again, and they both knew it. But there were no more words to share between them, so Solomon left it at that.

VI. Affection

Hearing his name come from your mouth like that gave him the same sensation of watching someone put a piece of a cactus in their mouth.

You hadn’t even entered his room yet. The moment you entered the dorm, you called out his name, stretching out the last syllable in a sing-song voice. He could hear the rustle of plastic bags, the ingredients for his latest cooking lesson tucked inside. When you knocked on the doorframe to his room, he didn’t answer, and you peeked inside to see him staring directly at you with a dumbstruck expression on his face.

“Are...you okay?” You asked, not truly concerned. It was enough to quickly snap him back to reality, and he tried to play off his surprise with a smile. You stopped him from speaking before he even had a chance to tell you he was fine. “Don’t give me any crap. What was that look for?”

How could he express what he was thinking without sounding entirely unbecoming? “It’s...just weird to hear my name said like that.”

“What, to the tune of the Devildom’s next hit of the summer?” Your cheeky grin did nothing to hide your arrogance. Solomon only hummed, standing from his desk and stretching his arms above his head.

Realizing he wasn’t going to explain himself any further, you led him to the kitchen and explained the dinner you had planned. He listened halfheartedly, rummaging through the bag to eye the ingredients suspiciously. It all looked so...predictable. Boring. He was already connecting ideas to add his own pizzazz to the dish.

“Are you going to yell at me when I mess it up?” He asked in an attempt at jest. Something in his tone was off, though, and it sounded much more like a genuine question. Uncomfortably clearing his throat, Solomon avoided your confused gaze. “I mean-”

“Have Simeon and Luke been on your case about your cooking again?” You asked. He could practically hear your exasperation at their antics, and almost jumped to their defense. They were angels. Confronting people directly about their shortcomings wasn’t their strong suit. “I promise, I will not yell at you. Seriously. I will, however, whip you into shape with this spoon.”

To prove your point, you picked up a wooden spoon and hit him on the arm. Your own strength surprised you, however, and the sharp snap that sounded through the room made you freeze in your spot. “Oh my goodness, I am so sorry-”

With a grin that could only be described as shit-eating, Solomon burst into theatrics, bemoaning his injured arm and worrying over how dark the bruise would definitely be. In between your apologizes and insistences that you didn’t hit him that hard, you tried to place a gentle kiss where you hit him. He made sure to pull away, swearing he could never trust you again after you’ve hurt him so severely.

He decided then that hearing his name interrupted with your laugh was the best way to hear it.