#Flint sounded almost... excited

[grabyourpillow]

Hmm

[ultravi0lence14]

Snow Bunny

dean winchester x angel!reader

895 | fluff

summary: you love the snow, and dean isn’t just getting flushed cheeks from the cold.

dean watched as you trotted through the snow like an overtly hyper bunny, bouncing on the balls of your feet as you twirled around in the blizzard.

you’d never been down to earth before, so when your first snow storm hit, dean couldn’t ignore the squeal that filtered through the bunker halls from your lips. you had run outdoors so quickly that the eldest winchester had to remind you about putting on layers.

ever since the weather had dropped, you’d been outside everyday. a striped scarf tightly wrapped around your neck as sam’s old carhartt jacket adorned your upper half. dean didn’t like the sight of you in his younger brother’s clothes, but it was all they had, and dean would rather little flints of jealousy than you freezing to death.

dean heard your giggles of excitement from where he stood by the bunker entrance, watching you adjust the crème earmuffs on your head. the strangest thing wasn’t dean’s massive boots on your feet so you wouldn’t freeze, it was the fact that you didn’t even want to play in the snow, just admire it.

attempting to get you to at least throw a snowball, dean stopped trying after the copious amounts of questions about snow angels and why they were named after you. so dean just watched, a genuine smile on his lips for the first time in a while.

he admired the snow that decorated your hair, making you look like a renowned painting. the way your denim skirt and white tights clung to your legs had his mouth watering, remembering all the things you had let him do to you last night.

the thoughts running around dean’s mind was halted by the sweet sound of your voice calling his name. he immediately looked over to you, watching as you excitedly waved him over to where you stood.

his strides were quick, a harrowing feeling in his gut that needed your body close to his. when he reached the place you stood, dean’s arms brushed out in front of his body; wrapping one arm around your waist so he could pull you to his chest, the other delicately brushing the side of your face with the back of his hand.

“what is it, my love?” dean breathed out, the softest his voice has possibly ever sounded. but he realized it did that a lot around you. soften. the thrones usually wrapped around his rough and hard voice pruned and delicately trimmed just for you.

a dazzling smile broke out across your face, prompting dean to almost buckle at the knees. “dance with me, dean.”

your request sent his eyebrow shooting up in mock surprise, but he didn’t mutter a single complaint as he gently took his hand off your face and rested it on the middle of your back. he held you tightly, the only sound being the crunching of snow beneath your feet as dean swayed both of your bodies side to side. your face was close to his, a breath away, and dean couldn’t help but admire all the features you could only see up close.

the mesmerizing allure of your eyes, drawing him in with the kaleidoscope swirls that adorned your irises. the light freckles that dusted your cheeks and swept over the delicate slopes of your nose like stars. he even noticed your fluttering eyelashes, flakes of snow stubbornly getting caught in them above your eyelids and making you look like a goddess in the snow.

dean found the hand plastered on your back moving from it’s place, delicately bringing it to your face before he softly brushed the fallen snow from your lashes. a giggle burst from your lips, and dean’s heart ached in a way only true love could achieve.

the pads of his fingers moved from your eyelids down to the slope of your nose, brushing the point in a sad attempt to rid it of the redness brought by the harsh air. his nimble fingers than moved to your lips, brushing your cupid’s bow with his pointer finger before swiping your bottom lip with his thumb.

he was enthralled by you. the way you looked up at him through your lashes and pouted your lips as his fingers ran over them sending his brain into a frenzy. dean had never felt like God had created someone specifically for him, but he was silently thanking the man upstairs for the creation of his precious angel.

in a silent plea of love, dean brushed his lips across the expanse of your forehead, his mouth moving with words that sent another flurry of snow in your stomach.

“i love you, angel.” he murmured, moving his head to rest on top of yours. “i thank heaven everyday that you came down to me.”

a solemn and peaceful look danced across your face, hands grappling at the fabric around dean’s waist as your hands rested there. you couldn’t think of any possible words that could express your love for dean winchester, so you just settled on resting your head against his chest, lips pressing a kiss above his heart as a way to declare your love for him as well.

for a little while longer, the two of you stood in the snow, swaying back and forth in each other’s embrace like two loving displays in a snow globe.

tags: @a1ecmcdowell @cosmicanakin @titsout4jackles @haunteres @ariasong11

[avastyetwats]

Squid Game 2 - Flane

Continued from here. @fornassau

"Quick to place the blame, huh?" Flint scoffed, though he pretty much did the same thing when he cursed Charles for bumping into him. Maybe it was his fault since he didn't see Charles, but it could very well be both their faults and -- oh, who fucking cared at this point. This could possibly be the first and last they saw of each other considering how many other people were here and if they both made it through the first game. The man was taller, younger, and very physically fit so admittedly, Flint felt a little concerned, but he didn't let it show. However when the stranger turned away, he did take that opportunity to check him out a little - appreciating his muscles and the way his shirt clung to his upper body and his hair being so long and luxuriant and -- you didn't come here for a relationship, Flint. He scolded himself just before walking into the booth to have his photo taken and walking out as soon as it was completed.

He looked at the colorful staircase in front of him and followed it upwards with his eyes, almost becoming dizzy at how high it went. He wasn't afraid of heights, but fuck, it looked like a goddamn maze. Just what the fuck was this place? Where in the hell were they? It'd been kept secret from them during their transportation and honestly, it made him feel a little uneasy, but it was too late to back out now. So, with a sigh, Flint moved forward and up, starting the ascent up the seemingly never ending staircase. He grumbled and cursed when people would slow down, stop or push passed him, but for the most part he kept to himself.

After what felt like hours - it was only minutes - he emerged outside with the large crowd. Above was a bright, blue, beautiful clear sky with birds flying above. Seagulls, they sounded like, which told Flint they were near a beach. He made a mental note of that. Then he looked forward when some others murmured and pointed, noticing the large female statue on the other end of the boxed in dirt field, standing in front of a large, dead tree. His brows furrowed and he stepped forward to try and get a better look. Workers dressed in the pink uniform stood on either side of it and then he looked around, but found nothing and no one else. Just... walls. Everyone appeared to be confused, and some excited. "The hell is this.." He muttered to himself, keeping his eyes on the strange statue on the other end as the rest of the players emerged and gathered.

Suddenly, the doors shut behind them, startling some of the players, but Flint kept his eyes in front of him. Then came the female voice...

"The first game is Red Light, Green Light..."

"A children's game? Seriously?"

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

“Great-great-grandmother Ursula only died last year, and that was after she took a tumble off her broomstick.”

No, actually, it was because one of the idiot beaters had directed a bludger at her head, but Alphard wasn’t going to bring that up.”

I’ve been re-reading this fic after yesterday’s update and it truly is amazing. But my real question is, what’s the story with Great-great-grandmother Ursula. She’s sounds like she’s from almost two generations above Dumbledore and she was still playing Quidditch ? Was she sitting in the stands? What kind of woman was she and how did she die ?

Thank you so much for thé fic it is wonderful and I am so excited for any future updates.

Look, @therealvinelle, praise!

The answer is that secret fic has required @therealvinelle and I to make a hilariously detailed and notated Black family tree in order to keep track both of characters and family scandals. We needed an example of one of the relatives who does last forever (shockingly few of them as JKR had a purge of the entire goddamn family ~1980-1990 that's beautifully hilarious) and we needed a reason for her to have died.

We settled on Great-Great Grandmother Ursula Flint, married to Phineus Nigellus Black (the headmaster guy we see in the books), who we decided lasted until 1981 (good for her!) and so we thought sudden unsuspicious death in the wizarding world, could be a lot of things, eh she gets hit in the head in Quidditch. Which is to say she was most certainly playing.

Great-Great Grandmother Ursula was one of those little old ladies who lived forever and never seemed to run out of energy or the life to go out and do (sometimes inadvisable) things. She was one of those little old ladies who you want to be when you grow up, who just keeps on going even though her husband died sixty years prior, and is out there playing Quidditch with the rest of them. This unfortunately leads to her death when "an idiot beater" hits her not realizing that yes, he is playing against a little old lady and perhaps he should not go all out. She died as she lived. In glory.

[vanilladreams-bah]

hello !! could we have a creator's choice dsmp fictive? /nf

we have a fragment, and all we know about him is that he's dsmp sourced and he has a superiority complex /h /lh

thank you ^^ I understand if not! have a nice timezone /g

- 🦠💥

Why of course :33c I love doing DSMP fictives. And I was so excited I gave you a level three !! Hope you dont mind :3

✨ Now bringing you a gift :; Creators choice fictive request ✨

Names) :; Wilbur, Apollo, Icarus, Achilles, Damien, Cyrus, Caeser, Flint, Arrow

Pronoun(s) :; he/flint/finch/sparrow/spark/doom/dea

Age :; 23

Genders) :; Explosigender, Martyrgender, Doomsdaycoric

Orientation :; Achillian

Source :; Pogtopia Era Wilbur - DSMP

Role :; Superiority complex holder, Persecutor

Faceclaim ::

Typing quirk :; Speaks almost poetically, everything he says sounds like he ripped it from Shakespeare's poems. Uses normal punctuation and uses capitalisation for Emphasis.

Personality :; Thinks he is above it all. Kind of treats people he doesn't like not well and those he does like gods. May try to blow up peices of headspace or set things on fire just to watch them burn.

Role performance :; As a superiority complex holder he fronts when you feel superior, taking on almost a god like persona. As a persecutor he will do what he wants when he wants, going to any lengths he deems necessary. This may be by harming or threatening to harm the body, other alters, or relationships the body has.

Front triggers :; Superiority complex thoughts, fire, Doomsday (Nov 16), Alien Blues - Vundabar, Tommyinnits, the urge to manipulate people

Likes and dislikes :; Likes, fire, Heathers, explosions. Dislikes, Tommys, Schlatt, mentions of Manburg

[etoilesombre]

sad captains make bad choices chapter two PLEASE I need it like I need breathing

For the WIP game. I was just WAITING for someone to ask about this one because I'm so excited to post the second chapter. Should be done over the weekend! First chapter here for context. Flint is so sad and pining (and also drunk and bad at people) that when he and Silver are staying at an inn together on a war mission and things get flirty, instead of making a move on Silver he goes out to an 18th century gay bar and has really intense group sex with randos. Was this an excuse for free use porn that then got out of control? Why yes, yes it was. Anyway Silver walks in, Flint sends him away, everything is horribly awkward, and Flint shuts down and is a bastard about it (see: bad at people.) In this, the second chapter, they... talk. Uh. Etc.

I had a hard time picking an excerpt for this one but here goes, the first bit of their conversation.

“Captain, this has to fucking stop,” Silver said at last, their third day back on the island.  They were on the cliffs, sweaty and panting between bouts. Flint had only spoken to comment on Silver’s form. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, hoping it might be true. That hope was immediately dashed.  “We need to talk about what happened in Virginia,” Silver said.  “We absolutely do not,” Flint replied, putting as much cold warning into his voice as he could muster. “I told you, it was a mistake. Leave it alone.” But Silver was not nearly as inclined to be cowed into silence as he had once been. “I tried to leave it alone,” he insisted. “And you’ve barely fucking spoken to me. It is obvious that you harbor some– some anger or resentment toward me over the matter, and I just—” “I don’t,” Flint interrupted, flatly.  “Then I don’t understand–” “Have you considered that it is not for you to understand?” Flint snapped, backed into a corner. “That perhaps you do not have a right to every goddamn piece of my life just because…” Flint trailed off, seeing the darkening of Silver’s expression and realizing the hypocrisy he would perceive in the words.  “You know what I think?” Silver’s tone was light, almost conversational, but it carried a bitter, dangerous undercurrent. “I think you’re just plain fucking embarassed. And I think you’re taking it out on me, because you can’t stand that I witnessed something that makes you as human as everyone else.”  Flint bridled at the accusation, at how simple, how petty it sounded when Silver said it. He wasn’t… it wasn’t just… He reached for a counter argument, and slowly deflated as the truth of it sank in past his defensiveness.  “And you know what?” Silver continued, apparently not finished but only hitting his stride. “That’s a bit fucking insulting, Captain. Considering that I’ve been coming up here every day and utterly humiliating myself in front of you. Considering that you were the only one who I—” He stopped abruptly, and Flint heard what he couldn’t say. The only one Silver had let near him, when he awoke after losing his leg, the only one other than the doctor allowed to witness the particular degradations of his suffering. “I meant it, when I said I didn’t think pride was an issue between us. That’s the only way this partnership works.” For a brief moment Silver sounded hurt, but found his way quickly back to outrage. “And I tried to be your fucking friend, as insane of a proposition as that may be. I did not judge you for your relationship with Thomas Hamilton, any more than I have ever judged any man on our crew for the same.” He glared at Flint, eyes blazing. “And if you’re going to be a bastard to me just because you assume I must be horrified by seeing what you like in bed, then fuck you.” 

[twoidiotwriters1]

Until The Very End -(WITS Sequel)

A/N: Been a while since I'd written single-scene chapters. Also happy WITS anniversary?? 3 years now wtf -Danny

Words: 2,074

Masterlist

Previous chapter // Next chapter

2012

It was no surprise when Emily Flint got sorted into Slytherin, and no surprise when she picked the hardest subjects on the curriculum once her third year came around. But it was a surprise when she went to the Quidditch tryouts and got the Seeker position.

Teddy Lupin would have someone to train with during the holidays now, Reg preferred doing muggle-type activities during his free time, and Victoire didn't like flying. Emily was the only one in the small group of friends who had a strong love for Quidditch, which her father could not understand.

He would understand even less now, Emily thought as she glared at her broken ankle waiting to be healed.

"Bollocks," much like her father, she didn't like swearing unless she was upset, and unfortunately, that was the case. "My career is over..."

"There you are!"

Emily's face heated up at the sound of Leon's voice. However, the whirlwind of feelings that came to her was represented on her face in the form of a scowl. "If you're coming here to tease, you can do so later," she sulked.

The older boy stopped halfway to her, eyes wide. "I wanted to check on you, that was a pretty harsh fall out there—I almost jumped out of my seat to try and catch you."

Emily sank further in her bed, wishing her heartbeat would stop thumping. "I'm fine. You may leave."

Leon frowned a bit, but it was more out of confusion than annoyance. "What's your deal? You caught the snitch and your team won—aren't you proud?"

"No, I'm not proud!" Emily snapped. "I promised Dad I wouldn't be careless while playing, he doesn't want me to play—says your sister and Harry took a lot of injuries from Quidditch and you know how paranoid he is, I promised I'd be careful!"

"You can't control that," Leon shrugged, not matching her panic. "Mel couldn't, and she'd control the weather if she wanted to. You can't promise you'll be safe every second of the game."

"Dad won't let me play now," Emily groaned, not listening to him. "My time in the team is over and I had just gotten the spot! It's not fair, Quidditch is the one thing he hates that I love. It's a huge joke, this is what this is."

"C'mon, your dad's not unreasonable, he's quite the opposite," Leon insisted with a tiny smile. "You got a little excited while playing, but it's just a broken ankle, he knows you can take care of yourself."

"And what if Ellie wants to play Quidditch once she starts next August? Dad won't let her because of what happened to me—I've ruined my siblings's chances."

"Emie, you have to cut yourself some slack," the boy replied, his grey eyes darkening with concern. "Penny says you rarely spend time with friends! And every time I go visit your common room, you're rubbing your nose raw on a book."

Emily stared down at her hands. "Because I want to make my father proud. I want to be perfect so he... so I can show him that all those sacrifices he made when he was my age were all worth it."

"Hey, when your dad was our age, he did all kinds of stuff. Once he stole someone else's hair for a Polyjuice potion and knocked that girl unconscious so she wouldn't show up while Mel was pretending to be her." Leon tried not to, but a chuckle escaped him as he sat next to Emily's bed.  "He wasn't unhappy all the time. You know what he's always telling me?"

Emily's hazel eyes are fixed on the boy's face, expectant and curious. "What?"

"He says that it was thanks to my sister that he loved school, and found real friends. And... I don't know if you know, but he and my sister had a thing when she was my age."

"What!"

"Don't tell him I told you!" Leon blushed. "My point is, he wasn't sad about anything, because his parents and brother had never been mistreated for their beliefs and yet they were always angry and miserable—but he'd been beaten twice, and on both occasions, the pain was nothing because Mel was there for him."

Leon grabbed her hand and squeezed lightly. "He thinks I'm like my sister, and maybe he sees you're just like him. So, he wants me to keep an eye on you. He says every Flint needs a Sultens," he grinned. "I think us Sultens would be nothing without our Flints. You're the sole reason why I didn't end up being a brat."

"Really?" Emily laughed, though still conscious of the way Erick was holding her hand.

"I was always trying to force you to follow my rules," his smile grew. "And you would always leave me there standing. It drove me mad!"

Emily nodded, remembering a bit of it. "Yeah, you were annoying."

"Unlike Teddy and Victoire, you didn't worship me at all," he continued with amusement. "I tried to win you over but I never figured out how to get you to do what I wanted, so I gave up— accepted the world didn't revolve around me, and I became a better friend."

"And then I changed my mind," she mused.

"Yeah well, you didn't hate me, you were just nudging me in the right direction, even as a kid you were always wiser than me." His expression turned affectionate then, poor Emily had to slow down her breathing so she wouldn't faint. "But you're too obsessed with being perfect."

"I can be perfect, it's a matter of hard work!" She argued, momentarily forgetting about her feelings.

"Princess, your own father handed me the task of teaching you how to have fun! Do you know how grave the situation has to be to get that kind of order from Mr Flint, Master of introversion?"

Emily didn't want to be seen as a task, or a kid Leon had to look after. He'd always been the oldest, strongest and smartest, and she felt like a huge fraud, because the only reason she hadn't followed him around since the start, was because she'd realized Leon paid more attention to her that way.

She wondered what had caused her father to crush on Mel Dumbledore—dad wasn't interested in superficial stuff like beauty or money, he'd always said he'd fallen in love with mother because of the way she spoke, 'She's pure magic' he liked saying. She'd been the first person to make him feel interesting and special.

Judging by the things Leon mentioned, her father had been enchanted by the way Mel made his life bearable in school, because of all the good things she'd brought into his life. She'd been an advantage, not a burden.

Emily wanted to be that for Leon. She'd decided he would be the man she'd marry, but for that to happen, boundaries had to be established. The way he would call her 'Princess' wasn't even sweet to her ears, he called her that because Mel teasingly called her father 'Prince'. It was just as platonic, and it made her furious.

Leon Regulus was a good boy, but he was too self-sufficient and only followed his own rules, not even Penny could get him to do her bidding. So far he'd dated plenty of beautiful girls who fawned over him, and even if he'd never been rude, most girls couldn't stand his distant personality, they never lasted more than one or two months with him. 

It was easy to lose his interest, his feelings faded quickly once the thrill of the unknown wore out. She'd once overheard his sister talking about Leon's father with Harry.

"Uncle Lu says Sirius used to date girls just to keep himself entertained with something during the times he wasn't doing mischief. That it was fun to him, but once that thrill was over so were his feelings, no girl ever got to make him stay once he'd fully known them."

"But he knew Mily, they were friends," Harry had pointed out. "And he was in love with her his whole life."

Mel took a moment to reply. "I don't know. Sirius was impulsive and kept to himself—Mum was a fun girl but I wouldn't know the reasons why he felt differently about her. He never told me."

If Leon was so much like his father—everyone always said that—then Emily had to be more like her namesake. Otherwise, she'd be overlooked, and taken for granted, and she could not have that.

"I appreciate your efforts to look after me," the girl dropped his hand. "You're right, my dad would want me to have fun—more importantly, he'd want me to have a Mel Dumbledore. But I don't think that's you."

Leon straightened up in his seat. "Why not?"

"Well, it'd be too obvious," Emily rolled her eyes. "Mel's brother being my answer is lazy—and I'm not lazy. Dad wants me to look for my person as he did, so that's what I'll do. Some boys have been trying to ask me out but I keep saying no, maybe I should reconsider."

"What boys?"

"I'll take it from here," Emily smiled even though her guts were twisting in knots, she hoped this would not backfire. "Thank you, you've opened my eyes. I won't sit around in my common room where you'd always been certain to find me. Now you'll have to search the entire castle just to catch a glimpse of me!"

The girl tried her best to sound obnoxious in a credible way because she was young, but Leon knew she wasn't stupid. There was a thin line between being obvious to the point he'd known she was up to something, and sounding like she'd truly been convinced to change her ways.

"It frustrates me when I discover there are limits to my abilities and they don't always reach where I want them to—"

"I think you're okay exactly where you are," the boy mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. His burgundy hair reflected the sunlight coming from the window.

"But I'm missing out! I want to go out on adventures with you, Teddy, and Victoire, and then Ellie once she gets here! I want to date people—and I can't do that if I follow you around like a lost pup, can I?" 

"I... guess not," Leon frowned, seemingly confused. "I mean... yeah, you're right."

"I must find my way alone. It'd be silly to rely on you anyway, you graduate in a year and then I'd just fall back in my bad habits. So no, thank you."

She laid back looking pleased. If Leon decided then to really let go, her dream would die right at that moment... but she had to take a risk, it was better to not have him at all than to fall deeper in love, only for him to grow numb to her appeal. 

Emily couldn't stand the idea of losing the boy she wanted to be with when he was the perfect fit, so she had to make sure he remained interested long enough until she was the right age to place her offer on the table. And if she played her cards right, he'd be begging her to take him by that time.

"I... I know I can't force you," he wrinkled his nose. "But I'd be useful to have around, you know? I know everyone, I get invited to all the parties and—"

"I'm the best seeker in school," she replied confidently. "I think I can get into any party if I just ask nicely."

"Yeah," Leon agreed, though he was no longer so joyful. "You're right, as usual..."

"Don't worry, I'll come to you if I have doubts about how to break up with someone, or my charms homework, or if I ever feel like joining the duelling club," she teased him. "I'll be around."

Leon's grey eyes got cloudier as he sank into his thoughts, Emily wished she knew Occlumancy. "Your dad will be glad, then... I should leave and... uh... Penny wanted me to help with her transfiguration parchment, so..."

"Go ahead, I won't be lonely," Emily shrugged. "Teddy and Vicky might visit after lunch."

"Yes," he replied, now sounding slightly on edge. "Teddy will want to talk your ears off about the game. I know. See you."

The boy got up and left. The way he walked out with his fists buried in his pockets and that cute pout on his face reminded her so much of the way he'd looked whenever she would defy him, that she felt this had been the right call. 

Leon Regulus would soon realize he'd always been in love with her, it was only a matter of time.

Next Chapter –>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @reverse-hxlland @hamiltonwc @omiwashere @t-rexs-world @21bruhs @dielgonacoffee @thelastpyle @cedricisnotdead @greengarsstuff @aconfusedslytherin @talksoprettyjjx @avengersz-biotch @23victoria @moonhoonie @raajali3 @peachyaeger @espressopatronum454 @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual  @na1ven3vy @kai-wifey

[brightside-of-the-upsidedown]

Happy Birthday! I hope it’s a good one.

Fore the prompts how about 41. “Why are you shaking?” + 19. Wax-Play for any Steve ship you feel like doing. 😁🥳

-rubs hands together- hehehe

Thank you ❤ I have a fun idea for Steddie!

It was Eddie’s birthday and he had been brimming with excitement all day. Steve had thought he might actually vibrate out of his skin with how hyper he had been acting.

They'd already had a party that weekend for him. The kids and Eddie’s band had a big D&D thing with Will as the Dungeon Master to give Eddie a chance to play as part of the party. After everyone had gone home, Eddie had asked Steve to stay behind.

Steve had thought that they would just make out, maybe have some fantastic birthday sex, but Eddie had said he had a surprise for him.

"But it's your birthday." Steve had said as Eddie had dragged him to his bedroom. Wayne had left for work an hour ago, so they had the apartment to themselves.

"Well, think of it as a gift for you but for me." Eddie seemed to delight in only confusing him more.

Steve had just rolled his eyes with a smile and went with it.

Which led him to his current- predicament.

"Why are you shaking?" The question was asked with a smile in Eddie’s voice. A ringed hand smoothed over Steve’s bare chest that Eddie'd had him shave for this. Those fingers stroked down his quivering belly and rested just above his groin.

Steve would have replied but the gag prevented anything but muffled whines from filtering through. Eddie checked his blindfold once more, making sure it wasn't too tight.

"You look so pretty, babe. Gonna make you look even prettier in a minute." Eddie kissed his sweaty forehead and moved his hand lower to stroke Steve’s cock, teasing the weeping almost purple glands with just his thumb. Steve tugged on his restraints with a grunt, but he didn't drop the bell clutched in one fist. "Good boy. Hold your bell for me. Let it fall if you get scared, kay babe?"

Steve could hear him move away but the sound of rustling let him know Eddie was still in the room. There was a heavy roll of multiple objects being set down on the nightstand, a few rolling off and making Eddie curse.

A moment later, Steve felt Eddie kiss down his chest, stomach, groin, and ending with a chaste peck to the head of his cock. "You're perfect, angel." More silence as Eddie withdrew again.

Then there was the sound of a zippo being flicked open and the catch catch of the flint as it was lit.

Silence as Steve trembled in anticipation.

He sucked in a hard breath as something hot dripped onto his chest.

Eddie sucked in a breath of his own. "Fuck you're beautiful, angel. Knew the red wax would look perfect on you when I saw it."

Eddie had gone to Indie for a gig a week ago and found a very special store he planned to take Steve to next time. One of the things they sold were 'body safe' candles.

Eddie gazed down at his boyfriend, stretched out like the best kind of present. He held the candle out and let it drip onto Steve's chest, just shy of a nipple. He watched Steve convulse and moan in pain, but his cock continued to kick from the extreme sensation. He glanced at Steve’s right hand and saw the bell held firmly in place.

Eddie dripped the wax right over a nipple and sighed as he watched Steve flail against the ropes. The black ropes, blindfold, and gag, Steve's mole dotted pale skin, and the growing trail of red wax was a fucking gorgeous contrast that Eddie could write lyrics to. He probably would later.

He bent down to suck on Steve's other nipple, licked and nibbled it gently with his teeth. Steve groaned at the switch from pain to sweetness. Eddie moved up to suck a bruise into Steve's vulnerable throat, he moaned in approval when Steve tipped his head back for him to trail more love bruises there.

Eddie dripped the wax on the other nipple and he could feel the vibration of the scream trapped in Steve's throat as he bit down. He raised his head and pecked Steve's cheek. "Good boy. Pretty boy. It's good, isn't it?"

He dripped more wax, leaving a long unbroken trail down Steve’s belly to his groin. He could see Steve trembling, waiting, as the candle hovered just shy of his cock, which was still very erect and now wet with precum. Eddie licked his lips and just touched his tongue to the tip, tasting some of the wetness there. He laughed, happy and sadistic, when it kicked and almost almost erupted just from that much. If it weren't for the leather ring snapped tight at the base of his cock. "Not yet, poor thing."

He soaked in the sobs that wracked Steve's body and let the wax start dripping over his angel's thighs.

"Patience, sweetheart. We have all night ahead of us." Eddie said in a soothing voice.

Steve just cried harder for him all the while his cock wept at the promise.

[messinwitheddie]

Little Flint raised his arms up. Making grabby hands, indicating he wants to be lifted up. Then came the questions that almost every smeet wants to ask their tallest.

“How tall are you? Why are there so many of us clustered together in the smeetery? Do I get to play outside when I’m done studying? Why do you look so old? What’s the surface like? Will my antennae be as long as yours? When is snack time? And can you tell me a story please, my tallest?”

Cini's eyes widened. He was overwhelmed by all the questions. He was obligated to answer and answer truthfully. After a long, awkward pause, he took a breath and attempted to reply. "I'm very tall. Taller than any other Irken in the empire." It was rude to ask a tallest that question, but he decided it was best not to scold or shame Flint for asking. He was just a smeet after all.

"The mother brain always keeps the Irken empire full of Irkens." he continued, "More irkens means more future victories and more chances for our species to explore new galaxies. We Irkens are a social species. We help each other and protect each other. We're supposed to anyhow." He wished that first answer was as true and sincere as he pitched his voice to sound.

"When you're done studying in the holo-visor hubs, you will have so many new things to see and experience. It will be exciting, especially at first, trust me." That time, he felt more confidentin his answer. He remembered being so excited to leave the smeetery and begin basic training.

His brow knitted. He didn'tappreciate the attention given to his wrinkles. "I AM old. My wardrobe staff does their best, but they can only mask so much. When you're as old as me, you start to look old."

He took a breath and collected his thoughts. "The surface is very vast and fascinating. The wind feels nice when it blows on your cheeks and the stars and moons are very dazzling when viewed in person...the surface has its charms, but it's full of challenges. You will miss the security of the smeetery after you're above ground a while...Your antenna are pretty long long, in relation to your body. They will probably stay long as you grow taller." Cini's squeedily spooch growled. "Your coddle drone will announce when it's time for snacks. Hopefully, it's soon or I will have to hail my coordinator so he can bring us snacks."

Cini took a long pause. Coming up with good answers for this little infinite storage unit of curiosity was starting to drain his energy. Normally, he had a database of stories to tell, but were any of them appropriate for a smeet to hear? "Would you rather hear a story about something that happened to me, a story that took place in my past or a story from our history you haven't yet reviewed in the holo visor hub?" He decided to give the smeet a choice and work from there.

[dragcnlxrd]

@ravusnightblossom continued from x

⋞⁘♔⁘⋟      As Lysander described the cave that was in mention, Ravus paused his beginning footsteps. Head tilted, he looked toward the young man with contemplation. He liked his cabin. Yet, a deep cavern filled with ice crystals and other native fauna was also inviting. Both possibilities offered him a level of comfort that Ravus would be satisfied with, so it hardly mattered where they ended up.

“I suspect where I implied contains a vastly greater number of soft surfaces, yet…” A soft hum resonated as Ravus stared off into the distance, pensively. At times his disposition made it seem as though his focus or attention were faint, but in truth, it was the precise opposite. Ravus saw everything.He gazed off, watching one of Ardyn’s redcaps chasing a squirrel through the treetops. He heard the bubbling sound of Luna’s pixies playing atop the surface of the lake, clear along it’s further embankments. Dryads rustled their parched leaves while a raven familiar let out a throaty croak in the skies above.

Eyes fell closed as the awareness overtook him and Ravus reveled in it for a breath or so. “Whichever you like. If you wish the cave then, lead onward…”

His lips curled just slightly in an almost-smile. Ah, of course. Those questions were so often amongst the first when it came to the inquiries of those from the human towns. “Yes,” he answered, opening his eyes to look toward Lysander. “All that you speak of.” Especially the unicorns. Ravus liked unicorns.  

"Well if you want cold then the cave it will be. Don't worry you'll find it comfy", he said with a smile as he moved to lead the stranger to his own little hideaway.

"Really?! Dragons!", he said a hint of childlike excitement in his voice as he lead the way. He'd always wanted to see a dragon. He'd seen bones before, bones that others had claimed to be that of dragons, or baby dragons but for all he knew they could just be bones from different animals pieced together.

The mere thought of all such creatures existing out there made him far to excitable and yet reality all but slammed into him as they reached the cave. The fact that these creatures existed was thrilling but why had he never seen one. Was this strange man merely pulling his leg? Jesting with him for some reason?

"If... if they're real then why have I never seen one? If these creatures are real why don't they show themselves? Gran always said there were redcaps in the forest and pixie and brownies but I've never seen one", he said as he made his way through the cave stopping to strike flint to rock in order to light a torch conveniently hidden.

The further into the cavernous cave the cooler it seemed to get. The flames caused the rock around them to almost sparkle. When he reached as deep as he would go he set the torch in a small holder.

The area around him was covered in a thick layer of hay with furs and cushions covering it, a small fire pit in the center of the decor. Lysander smiled and motioned for Ravus to have a seat. He himself flopped down on the furs and looked up at the cavern ceiling.

"Normally there are glow worms up there they make the darkness look as if there are stars in the sky. But I think they are sleeping during this time of the year. It looks amazing when they're glowing the water in the lake glows too", he said quietly.

[liiilyevans]

All these people think love's for show But I would die for you in secret The devil's in the details, but you got a friend in me Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?

Or, Draco finds out more about Astoria when she accidently misses a date. (I'm so excited to try my hand at mircofics, @cruelsummer-ficfest!)

Read on AO3

They had been dating for almost a year when Draco came to pick her up for a date, and Astoria didn’t answer the door. At first, he thought she’d been held back at the office. When it was ten minutes past, he started to get worried. At fifteen past, he started to think she’d stood him up. At twenty past, he got pissed. Anger simmering in his veins, he spelled open the door. Draco was aware that Astoria had policy to write, but he thought that he should take some priority since they had officially started dating. 

An uneasiness settled over him as he stepped into Astoria’s flat. The lights were on which meant Astoria was home. When Draco called out, he got no answer. He stepped toward her bedroom — a place he’d been a thousand times now — but stopped short when he saw Astoria laying on the floor of the bathroom, her body curled on its side awkwardly. Fear ceased Draco then. Someone must have attacked her for one reason or another — her political views, her father, him. 

Dropping to his knees, Draco gently rolled her over and spotted the black blood dripping from her nose. 

#

“Get out of the way, Malfoy.” 

Draco scrambled to his feet when he heard the stoney voice of Marcus Flint. For the past several hours, he’d been sitting outside Astoria’s door waiting for some kind of answer from the Healers or Daphne, who had arrived earlier, but none ever came. 

“What are you doing here?” he demanded. 

“I’m here to see Astoria,” Flint said easily enough, but Draco knew the words were meant to slice him open. 

“Daphne owled you then?” 

“Yes.” 

“Well, what did she say?” he asked. “I’ve not seen her since she arrived. I want-”

“I don’t give a fuck what you want, you entitled asshole,” Flint snapped. “You can choke on a rat’s chode for all I care.” 

Then he disappeared into Astoria’s room as well.

#

By the time six hours rolled around, Draco was positively fuming. Not only was he left outside with absolutely no updates on Astoria, but Flint seemed to be purposefully entering and exiting the room often to remind Draco that he wasn’t allowed in. When the next Healer entered the room, Draco shoved him in the back and stepped past the man as he tried to catch himself before he fell. 

Flint spotted him first and sent him a glare that would wither even the brightest of spring daisies. Draco didn’t care because Astoria looked at him then, her tired eyes filled with surprise. She was sitting on the edge of her bed in a white gown, her skin as pale as her sheets.  Draco was going to murder whoever had hexed her. 

“What the hell is going on?” he demanded. 

“Don’t you raise your voice at her,” Flint hissed. 

“Marcus, just give us a moment.” 

“I’m not leaving you with this-”

“I cannot deal with two hormonal men at once,” Astoria snapped. “Please give us a moment.”

Flint huffed before knocking past him. Daphne rose from her chair in the corner and followed him. 

Once they were gone, Draco knelt in front of Astoria, grabbed her hands, and kissed her knuckles. 

“I promise you, I will find whoever did this to you and make them live a thousand deaths.”

“Draco.” Astoria sounded weary and her eyes were dull when he looked up at her. “No one did this to me.” His confusion must have shown on his face because Astoria continued. “I’m sorry you found me like that. It must have been scary for you.” 

“Astoria.” She was avoiding the subject — trying to distract him from any questions he might ask. “Just tell me what happened.” 

She didn’t answer for a long time, instead choosing to sit there with her jaw clenched. Anger was bubbling in her eyes, and Draco didn’t know if it was directed at him or herself. 

“I’m sick,” she finally said. “Sick with a blood curse.” 

Shock eddied inside Draco. Blood curses were rare. Most people didn’t understand how they worked, only that those who had them never lived very long lives. 

“I don’t understand.” 

“I’ve always had it,” she said numbly. “Since I was little. Cursed with dirty blood ironically. The blood in my body turns against itself, almost like poison spreading, and I have to have it replaced when I can’t function with it anymore. It’s a brutal process where they remove the infected blood and replace it with normal blood.” 

Draco kissed her hands again because he had no answer for her; no money would fix this. Blood curses were for life. Astoria let him rest his head in her lap for a long time. When she spoke again, Draco’s heart sank. 

“I understand if you want to leave now.” 

“Leave?” he choked. “I am not leaving you like this. The Healers will have to drag me from this room.”

“You don’t understand-”

“I understand that I love you. I will not leave you.” 

It was Astoria’s turn to be shocked. Her brown eyes widened, blinking several times. Draco meant it, and she might not feel the same, he realized. His heart was pounding from the terror and the truth of it. The bruised thing he was laying before Astoria was all he had to offer. Long ago, his heart had been beaten and tortured but it was his and it belonged to her now. 

Astoria’s hands were shaking; her whole body was. “Draco, I-”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he said desperately kissing her hands. He could not stand to hear her rejection. “Just know that I will not leave you. Even if I have to sit outside that wretched door for another hundred hours.” 

Astoria lifted his chin, forcing him to look at her. “No one as ever wanted me as fiercely as you have.” 

As Draco finally kissed her, he thought no one ever would. 

[mariposakitten]

I took a deep breath, and hesitated. No need to cough, no weird noise in my lungs - did my flu just spontaneously go away? I think my immune system is finally healing from long covid.

As I pondered this, my phone rang - it was my best friend. "Hey, remember that lotto ticket we bought the other day?" I didn't, but that's okay, my memory isn't the best. "You put it in your purse pocket? Pull it out - they just announced the numbers!" Sure enough, it was right where she said. I quickly looked up the numbers, and - oh my god. Oh my god. We - we hit the jackpot! Even split between us, that's more money than we could ever spend in our lives!

Too excited to speak, I opened tumblr to share the good news. The first post I saw was a news announcement from a reputable source: not only had a ceasefire been called in Palestine, but rumor had it that after almost a century of conflict, a workable solution to the overall situation had been found that both sides agreed to and that would protect all innocents living in the region.

A few posts down I found similar good news about Sudan, and then other world conflicts. Then a press release: Jeff Bezos had had a near-death experience that left him with a new outlook on life, and he's actively making access to clean water - at home and abroad, from Flint to Kibera - his new pet project.

More good news, big and small, one after another, enough to make me forget my own fortune. Transgender healthcare is now free and easily accessed, as is insulin and all life-saving treatment. There's a new, 100% effective treatment for Alzheimer's, and also all those shows we like are getting renewed for a new season. The police are being defunded and the funds reallocated to useful social services, the prison system is getting a complete overhaul with an eye towards restorative justice, a union just won a major lawsuit against Amazon that promises to be a precedent for more cases to come, and JK Rowling just suffered some hugely embarrassing public mishap that has even her staunchest former supporters making fun of her. College degrees are not only free but come with a cost of living stipend, climate change laws are being passed with some real teeth to them, and that game I've been looking forward to was finished ahead of schedule and is being released nearly a month early. Housing is now considered a right; it's easier than it's ever been to buy a home, initiatives are underway to house all unhoused people, and even renters now have more rights and freedom with the homes they live in. They found a cheap, easy to access, environmentally-safe alternative to gasoline that works with the car engines that already exist, and the gas station that runs our corner store is one of the first chains to switch over. I saw a post starting with "You will not BELIEVE what happened to Trump and DeSantis on the SAME DAY 🤣🤣🤣" There's a readmore, but only after the crab rave gif.

My astonished scrolling was interrupted by my phone chiming and a message from my kiddo popping up. "MOMMY! I GOT ALL MY MAKEUP WORK DONE JUST IN TIME AND NOW I HAVE ALL A's AND B's!!" I'm so proud of them. I knew they could do it. They'll do even better next year, once they have an official adhd diagnosis and meds - which they will, as a quick goodle search showed me that all the pediatric psychiatrists in our area are now covered by our insurance, open after hours and on weekends, and accepting new patients.

Just then my cat looked up at me from my lap. "Hey," she said in a clear, human-esque voice, sounding embarrassed. "Thanks for being patient with me all these years. I promise, from now on I'll only poop and pee in the litter box. And I'll even try to be nicer to my..." she grimaced and forced out the last word. "Brothers."

I smiled and skritched her ears. "Thank you. I'd appreciate that."

She stretched. "Since I'm being such a good kitty, do you think we could have rotisserie chicken for dinner? And maybe you could share some with the best kitty ever?"

"I think we could make that happen. As luck would have it," I answered, "I just came into some money."

“Please stop writing! The very next thing you write will actually happen!”

[sc4torccio]

@oupires asked: ☜ + the one in s3 where she realizes they’re doomed to spend another winter in the wilderness 🤭

out in the clearing, overwhelmed by the smothering anticipation of the scientists' planned arrival, waiting, given the hour, felt nearly akin to standing on a cliff face, waiting to leap. like wild signalfire, sending butterflies fluttering in the dark, festering pit in natalie's stomach. worse, though, and against her better judgment, remained the fact that a blossom of hope had nestled itself quietly behind the jutting rungs of her ribs: a seedling that felt like it could drift away at any moment. she couldn't let it. not while more than half of their splintered faction craved a way out of their living hell of a wasteland. not when they'd wanted an end to the ritualistic violence, the persisting pressures of surviving, and the chaos of nature's ungovernable power; the madness that, over time, they'd whittled into some twisted version of meaning to make the losses they'd endured that much less senseless.

nat's fingers uncurled and dug into the sleeves of her jacket, her searching gaze shifting along every tenebrous break in the trees she could half make out. akilah and mari's whispers, murmured between themselves, hardly broke her engrossment in the lulling, still darkness. there was a quiet excitement in their voices; something almost more frenzied than that that seemed to walk a razor rope between anxious and wanting.

through the cacophony of the wilderness' fauna, natalie thought she caught the sound of twigs cracking; the susurration of dried grasses and tree roots rustling under the near - silent tread of infringing footsteps. she turned, then, as the shadowed silhouettes of two intruding shapes emerged through the trees — and in the stretch of a heartbeat, the length of time it took to read the defeat on melissa's face for what it was, to absorb the discontent on gen's, any smouldering hope they'd flinted into being amongst themselves evaporated into nothing.

natalie could hardly take it in, at first. could hardly reckon with the perplexity in akilah's eyes, or the way mari's face fell.

" what's wrong? " she asked, all the same, the low hush of her furtive whisper wobbling a little. they'd been perfectly tight - lipped, careful not to let a word of their plans leak into camp where they might be discovered. but nothing had ever been quite so simple as holding onto a secret. " something happened, " melissa offered, that answer alone enough to carve out the flourishing, flowering hope from natalie's chest in one swift motion. " hannah shoved a knife through that guy's face. "

the subsequent denial in akilah's voice cut through any dented, rusting resistance nat still felt against any reality in which this was her life, and theirs, for the foreseeable, miserable forever. " I'm sorry, what? we're not going? "

" no, shauna knows. "

nat's heart stilled for a second, before it dropped in her chest like a weight around her ankles in freezing, ice - encrusted water. her extremities almost seemed to lose their feeling, the edges of her vision tunnelling into dusky, pernicious black.

that they wouldn't be going home tonight didn't seem possible, given how far they'd gotten. but the narrow window they'd planned for had slammed shut, without warning, cutting off their fingers at the callused knuckle. they wouldn't be leaving this place — the minuscule patch of the wild, untraversed world that'd already taken coach, jackie, javi. instead, they'd go back to their camp where brutality reigned above empathy. back to the huts they'd crafted and lined in deer pelts that scarcely kept out the rain. back to the animal pit that still stank of torture and human decay, and to coach scott's head, where it rested on the end of a hand - crafted pike: a terrifying portent of just how little humanity still existed there. back to the endless void that lead nowhere but to suffering.

a single tear beaded down nat's cheek before she could make any motion to stop it, to stifle it and lock it away into dormancy with every single one she'd shed for coach. for shauna's lost child. but when the others started to trail off, to make their slow, subdued sojourn back to their huts, like nothing had ever happened, an undammed flood of them started to rise behind her lashes, glinting a cold, blurring sheen. for a moment, she could almost pretend that she could still will them away — that the rolling, towering tidal wave of disappointment that'd crushed the air out of her lungs and rendered her fingertips completely insensate, despite the encroaching cold, could still subside somehow. that maybe there'd be another opportunity, somewhere in the distant, far flung future.

that if they survived long enough, there could still be another night like this. another knife. another plan.

that flickering, naive flame of short - lived consideration flared and shuddered out the instant nat dared to let herself appraise it, like someone had nipped at it with unfeeling fingers. only it hadn't been some punishing, outstretched hand that'd passed in front of natalie's glassy, thousand yard stare. it had been a single flake of glittering white, then another, and another — a shimmering, fine flurry, not dissimilar to the deluge that so often featured in the preludes to her worst recurring nightmares. a sudden and portentous icy draught. a huff of shaking breath that, for the first time in months, she could see as it condensed and misted into a fog in front of her very eyes.

the breath nat let out escaped at the crux of a despairing whimper, through cold - bitten, quivering lips: a shivering plea to the cold, lifeless sky, chased by a flash flood of rolling tears. a chest - rattling sob that no one would ever hear. winter was on their doorstep, unannounced, and there was nothing she could do to keep it out. nowhere to run. no way to escape it. six days trek through the woods with a man she wasn't sure she'd have trusted her bandana with might've saved them — even shauna, even lottie; but it was too late. the plan had crumbled, the knife nat had handed to hannah the key to its unravelling. and the snow that'd started to permeate the overhead canopy of fading, wilting green settled on her shoulders without permission, without inhibition, while she looked up into it: a gossamer dusting of it that endured, no matter how hard she shook in her loud, childlike anguish.

they were doomed. they'd only survived last winter by virtue of jackie's corpse and the barren, mold - infested cabin, out by the lake; by the ravenous, animal skin of their teeth. it hadn't been luck that'd seen them through exposure and starvation. just perseverance. just deranged, unstoppable desperation. this time, the notion of rescue dangled itself above it all, out of everyone's withering reach. it'd a been a pipe dream, as fragile as bone under eighty tons of falling steel and composite carbon — and natalie couldn't shake the thought that the loss of it had all but rendered laura lee's death a meaningless one. that ben's death had been for nothing. that jackie's remains had been desecrated for nothing. that she'd let javi thrash in the ice and bleed out in the snow for nothing.

that when the height of winter set in, the rest of their deaths would be meaningless, too.

[fisheremsims]

4.16 - Chasing Dreams Together

Julian shot awake in the middle of the night to the sound of whining. Lassie was stumbling, her body trembling, and there was foam at her mouth. His heart pounded. He didn’t even think—he just scooped her up, grabbed his jacket, and rushed her to the vet.

As he watched the doctor work, his mind raced. He wasn’t scared—he was fascinated. Seeing the vet calmly diagnose Lassie, administer medicine, and reassure him made Julian realize: He wanted to do that. He wanted to be the one who healed animals.

The next morning, Morgan started her day with yoga in her home studio. As she stretched and breathed, she thought about everything she had built. Her family. Her business. Her artistic legacy.

With that in mind, she worked on a large art commission for a local gallery, determined to leave behind a masterpiece.

Later that day, Jacob surprised her with fresh flowers.

“You’ve done a lot for this family, Morgan,” he said, placing a kiss on her forehead. “Don’t forget to do something for yourself.” She smiled, feeling deeply loved.

Jade finally got the chance to participate in a regional equestrian event. She was nervous—but Rusty was steady beneath her. She did better than she expected and, more importantly, she met Nolan Flint—a rugged cowboy competing in barrel racing with his horse, Shadow.

After the competition, Nolan invited her on a trail ride. They bonded over their shared love of horses and adventure.

Before she left, they exchanged numbers. “Let’s ride again soon,” Nolan said, tipping his hat.

Jade felt something stir inside her. Maybe she wasn’t the only one dreaming of a life in Chestnut Ridge.

While Jade was at her horse competition, Joelle was proving herself in the gym. She flawlessly completed a punching bag routine, impressing her coach and teammates. For the first time, she thought: I could really do this.

She began dreaming about entering bodybuilding competitions.

And when Aaron Barkley—a talented basketball player—approached her at the gym, they struck up a conversation about fitness routines. For Joelle, this was just the beginning.

At home, Jocelyn experimented with painting, working on vibrant landscapes inspired by the family garden.

Later, Morgan took her to an art museum, where Jocelyn was mesmerized by the work of famous Sim artists. She whispered, “One day, my art will be in a place like this.”

Morgan squeezed her hand. “I believe that.”

That night, Morgan received a huge offer—a museum wanted to feature her work. She began painting her masterpiece, reflecting on how far she had come, from a small-town freelancer to one of Willow Creek’s most sought-after artists.

After his night at the vet, when Julian’s teacher assigned a class project—What do you want to be when you grow up? Julian already knew.

He wrote about becoming a veterinarian and drew a picture of himself in a lab coat surrounded by animals.

One night, Morgan called a family meeting.

“Let’s talk about what we want for the future.”

Each kid had something exciting to share.

🐎 Jade talked about Nolan, her horseback riding, and her dream of moving to Chestnut Ridge.

🏋️ Joelle shared her bodybuilding aspirations and her meeting with Aaron at the gym.

🎨 Jocelyn said, “You know about the museum, Mom. I think I want my artwork displayed there one day.”

🐾 Julian recounted his vet visit with Lassie and how he would love to help sick animals.

Morgan and Jacob listened, beaming with pride. Their kids weren’t just growing up, they were discovering who they were meant to be.

That night, they celebrated with a family movie night—Morgan made popcorn, and Jacob set up the TV.

It was the perfect way to end the day.

Right after the movie night, they realized—They almost forgot Julian’s birthday! He laughed as they scrambled to get a cake ready. When he blew out the candles, he officially aged into a teenager.

Morgan stared at him, feeling nostalgic. Her baby boy wasn’t a baby anymore.

That weekend, Aaron invited Joelle to a fitness boot camp, and she was all in. It was grueling, but she loved every second. She and Aaron bonded over shared training challenges, pushing each other to do one more rep, one more set. This wasn’t just a hobby - she was serious about this.

Julian took his dreams of being a veterinarian one step further. He began volunteering at the local animal shelter, walking dogs and feeding cats on weekends.

There, he met Misty, an older white cat that he bonded with instantly. For some reason, in Newcrest, everyone—pets included—wore hats. Julian found it hilarious.

Maybe, when he was older, he’d adopt Misty.

As if one birthday wasn’t enough, it was also time for Jade to age into a young adult. Her cowgirl dreams were fully realized—she had grown into the stereotype completely.

She had the boots, the hat, the confidence.

And now she had the freedom to make her own choices. Her heart ached for Chestnut Ridge.

And maybe Nolan was still waiting for that next ride.

4.15 - Pets, Passions and Prom Night

4.17 - Strokes of Autumn

[areadersquoteslibrary]

"‘You look like a Gauguin,’ he said after a moment. Brown like a Gauguin and, curiously, it struck him, flat like a Gauguin too; for the sunburn suppressed those nacreous gleams of carmine and blue and green that give the untanned white body its peculiar sumptuousness of relief.

The sound of his voice broke startlingly into Helen’s warm delicious trance of unconsciousness. She winced almost with pain. Why couldn’t he leave her in peace? She had been so happy in that other world of her transfigured body; and now he was calling her back – back to this world, back to her ordinary hell of emptiness and drought and discontent. She left his words unanswered and, shutting her eyes yet tighter against the menace of reality, tried to force her way back to the paradise from which she had been dragged.

Brown like a Gauguin, and flat . . . But the first Gauguin he ever saw (and had pretended, he remembered, to like a great deal more than he actually did) had been with Mary Amberley that time in Paris – that exciting and, for the boy of twenty that he then was, extraordinary and apocalyptic time.

He frowned to himself; this past of his was becoming importunate! But when, in order to escape from it, he bent down to kiss Helen’s shoulder, he found the sun-warmed skin impregnated with a faint, yet penetrating smell, at once salty and smoky, a smell that transported him instantaneously to a great chalk pit in the flank of the Chilterns, where, in Brian Foxe’s company, he had spent an inexplicably pleasurable hour striking two flints together and sniffing, voluptuously, at the place where the spark had left its characteristic tang of marine combustion.

‘L-like sm-smoke under the s-sea,’ had been Brian’s stammered comment when he was given the flints to smell.

Even the seemingly most solid fragments of present reality are riddled with pitfalls. What could be more uncompromisingly there, in the present, than a woman’s body in the sunshine? And yet it had betrayed him. The firm ground of its sensual immediacy and of his own physical tenderness had opened beneath his feet and precipitated him into another time and place. Nothing was safe. Even this skin had the scent of smoke under the sea. This living skin, this present skin; but it was nearly twenty years since Brian’s death.

A chalk pit, a picture gallery, a brown figure in the sun, a skin, here, redolent of salt and smoke, and here (like Mary’s, he remembered) savagely musky. Somewhere in the mind a lunatic shuffled a pack of snapshots and dealt them out at random, shuffled once more and dealt them out in different order, again and again, indefinitely. There was no chronology. The idiot remembered no distinction between before and after. The pit was as real and vivid as the gallery. That ten years separated flints from Gauguins was a fact, not given, but discoverable only on second thoughts by the calculating intellect. The thirty-five years of his conscious life made themselves immediately known to him as a chaos – a pack of snapshots in the hands of a lunatic. And who decided which snapshots were to be kept, which thrown away? A frightened or libidinous animal, according to the Freudians. But the Freudians were victims of the pathetic fallacy, incorrigible rationalizers always in search of sufficient reasons, of comprehensible motives. Fear and lust are the most easily comprehensible motives of all. Therefore . . . But psychology had no more right to be anthropomorphic, or even exclusively zoomorphic, than any other science. Besides a reason and an animal, man was also a collection of particles subject to the laws of chance. Some things were remembered for their utility or their appeal to the high faculties of the mind; some, by the presiding animal, remembered (or else deliberately forgotten) for their emotional content. But what of the innumerable remembered things without any particular emotional content, without utility, or beauty, or rational significance? Memory in these cases seemed to be merely a matter of luck. At the time of the event certain particles happened to be in a favourable position. Click! the event found itself caught, indelibly recorded. For no reason whatever. Unless, it now rather disquietingly occurred to him, unless of course the reason were not before the event, but after it, in what had been the future. What if that picture gallery had been recorded and stored away in the cellars of his mind for the sole and express purpose of being brought up into consciousness at this present moment? Brought up, today, when he was forty-two and secure, forty-two and fixed, unchangeably himself, brought up along with those critical years of his adolescence, along with the woman who had been his teacher, his first mistress, and was now a hardly human creature festering to death, alone, in a dirty burrow? And what if that absurd childish game with the flints had had a point, a profound purpose, which was simply to be recollected here on this blazing roof, now as his lips made contact with Helen’s sun-warmed flesh? In order that he might be forced, in the midst of this act of detached and irresponsible sensuality, to think of Brian and of the things that Brian had lived for; yes, and had died for – died for, another image suddenly reminded him, at the foot of just such a cliff as that beneath which they had played as children in the chalk pit. Yes, even Brian’s suicide, he now realized with horror, even the poor huddled body on the rocks, was mysteriously implicit in this hot skin.

One, two, three, four – counting each movement of his hand, he began to caress her. The gesture was magical, would transport him, if repeated sufficiently often, beyond the past and the future, beyond right and wrong, into the discrete, the self-sufficient, the atomic present. Particles of thought, desire and feeling moving at random among particles of time, coming into casual contact and as casually parting. A casino, an asylum, a zoo; but also, in a corner, a library and someone thinking. Someone largely at the mercy of the croupiers, at the mercy of the idiots and the animals; but still irrepressible and indefatigable. Another two or three years and the Elements of Sociology would be finished. In spite of everything; yes, in spite of everything, he thought with a kind of defiant elation, and counted thirty-two, thirty-three, thirty-four, thirty-five . . ."

-Aldous Huxley, 'Eyeless in Gaza'

[pennzance]

Ghostbusters: Port Huron (Episode 10)

Episode 10: Eloise

September 6th, 1998

Readiness report by Amber

Tomorrow, we set out for Eloise.

Okay, that may sound a little dramatic. Eloise was a poor house that, like a lot of poor houses, became an asylum and mental hospital that, like a lot of asylums and mental hospitals of the era, were the sites of some truly, truly awful shit. Lobotomies, state sanctioned torture, the silencing of women and inconvenient bastard children, and all of this under the auspices of helping those with mental problems that other medical facilities of the time would not touch with a ten-foot pole.

At its height, according to Bryan, Eloise was the size of a small city with dozens of wards and housing on site for the various medical professionals that worked there. At almost 10,000 residents during the Great Depression, the systemic horribleness of the place wouldn’t stop until it was defunded and shuttered in 1979. 19 years ago. I was alive when this place was open.

And now Wayne County is trying to do something, ANYTHING else with the property. They’ve tried to bulldoze the buildings, and they have gotten a few, but the main complex defies their efforts. There have been an almost infinite number of reports of equipment just stopping near those buildings, not breaking just… stopping dead. Even the wrecking ball they tried to throw at the place broke its chain and crushed the foreman’s mobile office. Nobody wants to go near the place now. It’s almost 5 square miles of cursed campus.

So, the Wayne County leadership decided to contract us. And not just us, but the Detroit and Flint branches as well, to sweep the place clean of spooks and bad vibes. Given how serious Mr. Kaye seems to be taking this, I’m sure we’re in for a hell of a week.

Jeremy and Eric are riding in the Ecto-908 while Bryan and I follow behind in my Ford Taurus. They’ll have the equipment while we’ll haul the luggage. We’ve got four rooms at a Best Western about ten miles away from Eloise itself, and every day is going to be exploring Eloise and trying to take the ghost level there down a peg. The Detroit branch is bringing a special ‘mobile containment grid’ for the occasion, and I guess Jeremy is excited to see how they put it together.

There’s this weird air of ‘life threatening situation’ combined with ‘team building exercise’ about this whole trip that I haven’t felt since my time at basic training. I’m either going to remember this next week as the best time of my life or need a lot of therapy to move past it. There will not be an in between. Unless it’s both. It’ll probably be both. Wish us luck.

ADDITIONAL: I’m giving up on research for the week. I have studied a number of sources, both non-fiction and actual fiction, on the source of our bat winged horse beast and come up with exactly jack and shit. I have a few more ideas, but honestly my brain is so full of unhelpful information at this point that I think spending a week in a mental asylum without other distractions sounds like a spa getaway. – Bryan

ADDITIONAL: I’ve been leaving this out of my reports to the home office until now, but I’ve been experimenting with some additions to the Proton Pack based on the suggestions of the rest of the team. The biggest one was integrating the nuetrona emitter into a gauntlet attachment. This took two weeks of experimentation and failure to accomplish, but I think we can field test it at Eloise and let Eric finally, as he put it, ‘punch a ghost’. I’m happy to let him test it because if it works, great, and if not, it will at least be worth a good laugh. – Jeremy.

ADDITIONAL: Stanley has been blowing off my attempts to contact him. I get the distinct feeling he knows something or has seen something he doesn’t want to share. That’s suspicious and I plan on digging deeper after this week-long ghost-cation. On a brighter note, I get to punch ghosts this week, Jeremy said! My excitement is hard to communicate in writing, but I’m sure it’s going to make up for having to listen to his abysmal mix CDs on the way to Wayne County. – Eric

ADDITIONAL: This week will be a real trial for the team, I fear. If reports are to be believed, it will take a herculean effort to render Eloise free of its ghosts. There is a real argument to be made that doing so may be more detrimental in the long run, I’m sure. Something to the effect of scrubbing the sins out of the land before its paved over and forgotten, atrocities and all. Still, this operation is under the direct management of Julius from the Flint branch. I hope my team doesn’t learn any bad manners from him or his crew. For my part, while my team is in Wayne County, I shall be pursuing a lead on our mounting problems in Port Huron. – Stephen Kaye.