#Oh lord help me for I am back on my bullshit

[chelseeebe]

still into you

after abruptly leaving hawkins (and you) seven years ago, eddie munson, ex-boyfriend turned rockstar, makes a grand return. how will things pan out when your lives couldn’t be further apart?

this has been in the drafts for god knows how long and you can definitely tell where my writing started to improve as i came back to it.. hope y’all enjoy anyway! this is so long good lord. also includes a bit of bestfriendism with stevie!

18+. mdni. smut. mentions of alcohol. eddie is a dickhead. no use of y/n!

read part two here.

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‘you know he’s coming back next weekend?’ steve mutters, nodding towards you as you rip the sellotape from the brown box, beginning to stack the cans of soup.

‘is he? oh my god oh my god,’ feigning excitement with a straight face.

you’d already known he was coming back, you’d received the invitation just like everybody else. except, you’d swiftly put the gimmicky piece of paper into the trash and got on with your day. confused why everyone else seemed to be losing their goddamn minds over it.

he huffs quietly, helping you with the heavy tins, ‘are you gonna go?’ steve didn’t actually work in melvalds but came in on his breaks purely to chat and distract you from your work.

‘am i gonna go? hmm, let me think.. no.’

‘he wants to see you.. you should come,’ prodding his elbow into your side, collapsing the box into a flat piece of cardboard.

‘you spoke to him?’ ears perking up. you didn’t care if he’d mentioned you. no, really.

‘yeah.. he called a few weeks ago, y’know when the invitations got sent out,’ picking up the next box to start filling the shelf.

‘oh! it’s nice to know he called you and just hilarious to know i never got a phone call,’ getting frankly quite sick of hearing about eddie fucking munson and his grand return.

once upon a time, eddie had actually been your boyfriend. must’ve been 7 or so years ago by this point.. anyway, that was before he’d got his big break and decided that he was going to completely forget about hawkins.. and about you. you’d still been together after his first tiny tour, excitedly waiting for him to come home when he just.. never did.

he’d had the decency to at least call and tell you that he was breaking up with you.. we’re just in different places right now.. it’s not you.. i don’t want you to ruin your life waiting for me..

it was essentially a whole bunch of bullshit, because the very next month he was spotted with some bottle blonde model looking suspiciously close at some club he’d have absolutely hated the year prior. it was like a punch to the gut, flicking through the pages of the trashy magazine just knowing that you hadn’t been enough for this new lifestyle of his.

from then on, you’d decided to disengage with any and everything about him. turning the tv off when corroded coffin came on one of the morning talk shows, leaving the room at parties when one of his song’s inevitably came on and just completely blanking out of the conversation when his name was brought up. it was easier that way, saved your feelings and the awkward glances you’d get.

at some point things had become slightly more complicated and you’re not sure how exactly it had happened but you had wound up pregnant. and by jason carver no less. maybe it was your shared disdain for eddie that had brought you together. who knows?

but it had happened and now you had to deal with it. and although jason may come in a close second to world’s biggest assholes.. you had gained a beautiful daughter from it all and had become quite content with your single mom life.

people had come and gone, robin jetting off to some fancy college in california.. jonathan and nancy ending up in new york at some hot-shot newspaper.. the kids you’d sort of gathered had all gone off to various colleges, becoming adults themselves. all except for steve.

steve had stayed in hawkins like you, begrudgingly following his father’s footsteps, getting a job at his accounting firm. it was good money and kept his dad happy so he couldn’t fault it really. he’d even got his own place just down the street from your house and at some point you’d just accepted that he was probably your only friend in hawkins.

it had brought the two of you undeniably closer and maybe you’d even call him your best friend now. well, except for right now as he was beginning to piss you off with all this fussing over eddie.

‘you have to come.. it’s not just for him, everyone is going.. it’s a reunion,’ steve continues to pester you despite your efforts to shut him down.

‘steve, i’m not going and that’s that.’

he sighs, staring at you with a blank expression, ‘okay, well.. i’ll tell him it’s a maybe,’ checking his watch before frowning, ‘shit, i’m late.. i’ll see you later,’ throwing the empty cardboard to the floor before dashing off down the aisle, giving you an exaggerated wave as he disappears.

you just knew that he was not going to drop this until you agreed to go. but he could kick and scream as much as he liked, you had absolutely zero desire to go this flimsy reunion and even less desire to see eddie in the flesh.

-

it’s another dull week of stacking shelves and managing a team of absolute morons and before you know it, it’s the day before that fucking reunion and steve is still as incessant as ever that you must go.

‘my mom can look after ella.. please just come,’ he sounded like he was a second away from getting on his knees to actually beg you to go.

you’d started to just ignore him now, getting on with whatever you were doing, choosing to give him the silent treatment. he hated that.

‘you’re so annoying,’ he scoffs, still helping you unbox the bags of chips, ‘will you just come for five minutes.. you don’t even have to talk to eddie, it’s the first time we’ll all be together again.. puh-leaseee,’ breaking into a weird sort of sing-song tone.

you exhale through your nose, visibly frustrated by the man, ‘i’m going to ban you in a minute,’ raising your eyebrows, taking the same tone you used when ella was being a brat.

‘no you won’t,’ furrowing his brows, ‘what if i promise to stand in between you the whole night? i’ll beat him with a stick if he even tries to talk to you,’ completely serious with what he just said.

you chortle, covering your mouth as one of the elderly customers walks past, slightly bewildered by the noise that just escaped your mouth, ‘couldn’t you just beat him with a stick anyway?’

‘ehh.. not really, he is paying for the whole thing,’ straightening the bags of air he’d just placed on the shelf, ‘i mean, i could if you really want me to.’

you roll your eyes, of course he was. he’d rented the fanciest restaurant just outside of town for your gaggle of pals. any chance to flaunt the fact that he’d made it out of this hell hole and left the rest of you in the dirt.

‘i have a child, steve, i can’t just go out and leave her at home.. some of us aren’t free like you are,’ turning to face him with a stern hand on your hip.

‘i just told you my mom’ll look after her.. she hasn’t seen her in so long and.. and you can stay at mine and i’ll take you to her first thing in the morning,’ his eyes are round, glimmering in the harsh overhead lights.

‘i don’t have anything to wear,’ shrugging, you really didn’t. becoming a mother isn’t quite so glamorous and a lot of clothes you’d once fit into had become a little tight.

‘when d’you finish?’

narrowing your eyes at him, ‘two..’

‘great.. okay well, i’ll take a half-day and we can go shopping.. on me,’ wiggling his eyebrows at you. the thing about steve is that he believes that most problems can be solved by throwing money at it.

he wasn’t wrong, of course.

because you reluctantly agree to go shopping with him on the condition that you weren’t definitely going to this thing. you were just going to try on dresses. that was it.

-

you get a cab to the restaurant, there was no way in hell you were doing this sober nor did you want to subject steve to being sober for your sake. palms clammy as you clamber out of the vehicle, immediately regretting your decision.

no one would care if you didn’t go, right? you could quite easily just get back into the taxi and go home without forcing yourself to endure the night.

steve’s one step ahead of you, grabbing your hand so you can’t run away. throwing him an awful glare but you weren’t really mad, just annoyed that he’d succeeded in persuading you to come.

‘c’mon.. it won’t be so bad once you’re in there,’ smoothing down his fresh shirt as he begins to walk up the winding path, dragging you along behind him.

he’s wrong. it’s so much worse inside. the place was huge, extravagantly decorated and full of people you’d once regarded as your best friends, all too busy in their own conversations to notice you and steve walk in.

it wasn’t like you hadn’t heard from them, it had just been through occasional letters and christmas cards rather than seeing them face to face. robin would call sometimes, fill you in on whatever she had been up to and beg to speak to ella who absolutely loved it. you were sure they were on the same wavelength.

you look to steve with wary eyes, digging your fingertips into his hand, ‘we could just leave right now.. no one would even know,’ tugging gently on his arm.

‘hey,’ he whispers, ‘it’s okay.. look, robin’s coming over, we’ll say hi and see how you feel,’ using his spare hand to wave at the bubbly girl, dropping your hand to give her a hug.

‘oh my god,’ she rushes, ‘how are you? you look so good.. and i don’t mean you,’ pulling away from steve to throw her arms around you, her gentle hands rubbing on your back.

‘hah, it’s nice to see you too,’ steve rolls his eyes, grabbing two of the champagne flutes being ferried around by fancy waiters.

she pulls back, ‘i didn’t think you were coming.. how are you doing? how’s ella?’ the words falling out of her mouth at super speed, it was as if her mouth moved before her brain did.

‘i wasn’t gonna but i wanted to see you guys,’ you nod, taking the glass from steve’s outstretched hand and taking a lengthy sip, ‘i’m okay.. ella’s okay.. you’ll have to come and see her before you leave.’

‘i will i will! i literally landed like two hours ago and had to rush but i’m back until friday,’ her hands flying around as she spoke, ‘come and say hello..’ her arm intertwines with yours as she leans in closer to your ear, ‘he’s staring y’know..’

your eyes roll back on their own, not even wanting to search the room for him, ‘i’m not speaking to him so he can stare all he likes,’ straightening up as you approach the group robin had left.

nancy’s talking to max about something in incredible detail but is quite to stop when you approach, mouth in a small ‘o’ as she hugs you, ‘you came? i thought we were gonna miss you,’ grinning wide when she pulls back.

you give an overdramatic sigh, ‘of course i had to come.. you’d all miss me too much,’ waving to the rest of the group.

there are a lot of small pleasantries swapped, asking about their journey’s here and how they’d been.. standard small talk. but then el asks to see a picture of ella, ecstatic that their names were so similar. you’d come prepared, pulling the creased picture out of your bag.

they all gush and coo over her, it was a picture you’d snapped from her first day of kindergarten, cheesing with her pigtails and pink hair bobbles. passing it around the gathered group, still steadily sipping on the bitter champagne.

‘who’s that?’ eddie asks, you hadn’t noticed him sidle over to the crowd, stood peering over lucas’ shoulder at the photograph.

your eyes meet his, seeing his face for the first time in what felt like centuries. he looked older, obviously, still sporting the same long curls except now it actually looked as if it’d been styled. he’s in a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, forearms now littered with tattoos and a nice looking watch. your heart just about stops beating when you realise you’ll now have to explain exactly who that is.

‘uh.. that’s ella,’ you nod, not quite meeting his eyes, ‘..my daughter,’ taking the photo from lucas’ hand, the atmosphere had quite suddenly shifted and people begin to scatter, starting their own conversations so they don’t have to bare witness to this one.

‘oh.. oh, right.. well, congratulations then,’ the shadow of a smile on his lips, could he feel how fucking awkward this was?

‘thank you,’ giving him a half nod, startled as steve’s hand brushes the small of your back. he’d seen that you were in conversation and had left dustin to fulfil his security guard promise.

‘it’s nice that you two found each other.. you have a beautiful daughter,’ still not fully committed to smiling but he was getting there.

your face contorts, immediately looking to steve before letting out a god awful cackle, ‘oh no.. she’s not steve’s,’ covering your mouth before another taunting laugh comes out.

steve is trying to stifle his grin but fails, reaching his hand out to shake eddie’s hand, ‘ah man, no ella’s not mine but she is beautiful, isn’t she? how are you?’

you’re eternally grateful that he he’s managed to sway the conversation and you aren’t forced to explain why or how you’d had a child with jason fucking carver. turning back to robin as you hear steve ramble on about work and corroded coffin’s new album, something you had absolutely no care about.

‘shall we get another drink?’ robin asks, eyeing the open bar and your empty glass.

‘please.’

the rest of the night is going.. relatively well. it’s kinda unsettling to watch the younger kids drink legally, getting more boisterous and loud as the night progresses. it’s nice, if not a little sad just thinking about how you weren’t really able to enjoy yourself at their age because you had a newborn.

you must’ve been deep in thought as you don’t even notice eddie creep up to the empty table, standing awkwardly besides your chair, ‘can we talk?’

your eyes shoot up to meet his, baffled by his presence, ‘what could we possibly have to talk about?’

he exhales through his nose, ‘uh.. a lot? we don’t have to do it here.. i have a room upstairs or.. outside?’

‘no,’ gripping onto your glass of wine, desperately trying to grab the attention of someone behind eddie to come and save you, ‘i don’t want to speak to you.’

he’s exasperated, clutching onto his beer with strained white knuckles. how were you ever supposed to move past this when you wouldn’t even give him the opportunity to explain himself. but that was exactly it. you didn’t care about any of the silly excuses you’re sure he’d conjured up, he did what he did and that was that.

‘i’m trying here..’ sounding exasperated, ‘how ‘bout dinner? sometime this week, on me,’ his voice is deeper now, raspier. you figure as a result of constant partying and chain smoking while on tour.

‘i have a child and a job.. i don’t have time for dinner with you on top of that,’ swallowing the rest of the sweet white wine, putting the empty glass back on the table with a forceful slam.

you make brief eye contact with will who was passing behind eddie and decide to take the opportunity to pounce, standing from your chair and rushing over the second he nears your table.

‘will.. hey,’ speeding to catch him up, mouthing a small save me, clinging to his arm as you move away from eddie who was stood deflated at the table.

will thankfully catches your drift, steering you towards the bar, ‘you okay? i was just about to leave..’ placing his empty glass onto the bar with a soft sigh.

‘what? no.. if i can’t go then you’re not allowed either,’ talking sternly to the boy even though he now towered above you and just about everybody else in here.

he screws up his face, looking over to the dance floor, ‘it’s just..’ sighing once again, ‘awful, isn’t it?’ following his gaze to an intoxicated mike performing an elaborate air guitar routine in the middle of the floor.

it wasn’t exactly the same, but you could empathise with the difficult situation and that foul feeling in your stomach that you were sure he could feel too. you could imagine that it wasn’t easy to see the man you’d once, or perhaps still loved after so long. in fact, you didn’t really need to imagine at all.

deciding it was better to change the subject, distract him from the unraveling scene on the dance floor, ‘d’you smoke?’

he looks around quickly, watching out for a listening jonathan, you assume before he nods quickly, ‘but no one can know,’ a hint of a smile creeping onto his face.

you return the devilish grin before hooking your arm in his, pulling him towards the door where you could get the hell away from annoying men and their long black hair.

-

it’s gone three by the time you get back to steve’s, genuinely having to coax him from the party and into the cab you’d shared with a belligerent dustin, making sure he had got home safely.

‘i wasn’t too mean, was i?’ snuggled up in steve’s blankets, facing each other in the low light of his room.

‘nooo, no you were on fire,’ he laughs, he was still tipsy and slightly reeking of booze as he lay next to you.

‘really? you’re sure?’ he was definitely just drunk and blabbing on but you’d take it.

‘yes.. it was perfect,’ he hiccups, interrupting his sentence, ‘buuut.. and i’m not the only one who said this so don’t kill me..’ kissing the back of his teeth, ‘you’re not gonna like what i have to say.’

‘what? what is it?’ prodding his shoulder with a quick jab. knowing eddie, he’d probably gone round the party whispering some bullshit about the two of you.

‘well..’ holding his hands in the air, ‘there’s still chemistry there.. y’know i could see it,’ raising his eyebrows, hands collapsing onto the blanket.

‘right, i’m going to sleep.. you’re drunk and just saying stupid shit now,’ rolling your eyes as you settle into the soft pillow, closing your eyes so you no longer had to entertain his idiotic nonsense.

he chortles, hiccuping mid-laugh which makes a horrid choking noise, ‘i’m not that drunk.. robin said it too,’ the lamp clicks off, darkening the room, ‘and dustin..’

‘go to sleep steve,’ unamused and tired.

‘okay okay.. goodnight,’ he calls, you can hear the smile in his voice as he turns to face the other way, taking that as your opportunity to rest your head on his back, nuzzling into the soft cotton t-shirt.

-

monday is particularly awful and you’re reminded exactly why you don’t drink often. two days on and you’re still exhausted, half-heartedly filling the shelves and just trying to make it to two o’clock.

in your tired state, one of the bottles of shampoo you were putting out, falls out of your hand and rolls off somewhere down the aisle. you sigh, a deep, fed-up, exhaustive sigh and get up to go and fetch it when the bottle appears before your face, a tattooed, ring-filled hand latched onto it.

‘carver? really?’ eddie frowns, watching you from above, eyebrows furrowed together.

you place the bottle onto it’s rightful spot on the shelf and choose to ignore him. if he’d come all the way down here just to piss you off about your poor life choices then he could get fucked.

‘when’d that happen?’

blanking him again as you continue to put stuff onto the shelves. this was the easiest way to guarantee that you weren’t going to get yourself fired for being rude to him.

‘you gonna ignore me? i just wanna know,’ still poking and prodding, he clearly wasn’t very good at picking up on context clues.

nothing.

‘fuck, can you just talk to me for five minutes?’ your silence was driving him crazy, aggravating him to no end.

‘i’m at work, so no,’ hurriedly trying to finish the stock you had so you had an excuse to rush out the back and away from him.

he was fortunate that it was a quiet monday, the store full of mostly older ladies who had no idea who he was. you sorta hoped that he’d get mobbed and would have to hurry off and leave you alone.

‘why jason? out of literally everyone else in this shithole you choose jason?’ screwing his face up in disgust.

you slam the box cutter down with a loud clatter, causing a few turned heads and raised eyebrows. fuck ‘em. if you had done what you’d really wanted to do, you’d be locked up forever.

‘i don’t know if you remember this but my boyfriend of like, two years ran away and never came home so yeah.. that kinda fucked with me a little and lucky for me, jason carver was there and also hated my ex’s guts.. so it was perfect, you know?’ staring flatly at him, you were not dealing with his shit today.

eddie scoffs, ‘so you had a kid with him? and now.. what? you play happy families just to spite me? is that it?’

‘yes eddie, i had a whole child just to piss you off.’

he gawps back at you, clearly also did not possess the ability to sense sarcasm.

‘no,’ scowling at him, ‘it was an accident and now he’s.. i dunno, coaching basketball at some school in ohio or some shit.. why don’t you go and bother him?’

‘so you’re not together?’

you can only roll your eyes in response, in sheer disbelief that he’d made such a fuss because he couldn’t just outright ask if you were single.

un-fucking-believable.

you’ve had just about enough of this conversation, pulling your little trolley back towards the swing doors that lead to the warehouse. at least he wasn’t allowed in there.

‘wait! wait..’ he grabs onto the other side of the trolley, stopping you from walking off, ‘have dinner with me tonight or.. tomorrow?’ eyes big and pleading.

‘now why would i do that?’

‘because i want to explain myself.. i need to.’

one of the younger shoppers notices who he is and begins trying to talk to him, coming over to where you two stood rather excitedly. eddie is kind enough to smile and give her a few polite words, eyes still latched onto yours despite the ecstatic woman beside him.

‘okay,’ honestly just wanting to get away from all this commotion, ‘tomorrow.’

his scowl subsides, replaced by a gleaming grin, ‘six o’clock.. pino’s, i’ll sort it, okay?’ already starting to walk away from the crazy woman.

‘right,’ you nod, pulling your trolley away and into the back warehouse, leaning against the concrete wall. the whole exchange was tiring, knocking whatever tiny bit of energy out of you.

were you actually gonna go?

absolutely fucking not.

-

by the time six rolls around the next night, you really had forgotten all about it. rushing to get ella her dinner after swimming lessons, already worrying about paying for yet another field trip she’d sprung on you earlier. you’d begun to wonder if they even taught in the classrooms anymore with the amount of permission slips she brought home.

she’s finally settled into bed, after much protesting and a lot of coaxing. you’re just about to finally relax on the couch when someone hammers on your front door. and if you weren’t already pissed off with ella’s whining, you were most definitely about to be with whichever mindless prick was banging on your door.

‘what do you want?’ you hiss, jerking the door open to reveal a pathetic looking eddie on the other side, face forlorn and dejected.

he’s in that white shirt again. it makes you sick to your stomach to admit that it really does look good on him. his arms now more defined, the cotton sticking to his muscles, briefly showcasing the new tattoos underneath. maybe he’d actually got off of his ass and did something other than smoke weed all day.

‘oh so you are alive, d’you forget about something?’ he’s snarling now, having conjured up some elaborate excuse in his head as to why you hadn’t showed, only to find you at home, seemingly with no care in the world.

‘oops,’ the corners of your mouth twitching into a smile, you hadn’t even actually meant to stand him up, you were just gonna call his hotel and cancel but the thought had just completely slipped your mind.

and even if it shouldn’t, it really did feel good. knowing he was the one sat waiting for you for once.

‘oops? i sat there for an hour waiting for you and then spent the last hour trying to convince dustin to give me your fucking address.. and all you can say is oops?’

you shrug, ‘feels pretty shitty to be forgotten about, doesn’t it?’ tilting your head, watching as his face falls. he’d been got.

‘okay.. okay, i get it, and i’m sorry.. there’s not a day that goes by that i don’t feel like shit for how i treated you,’ his head dips low, looking particularly sorry for himself.

and for a second you do too. not that he deserved it. quickly having to remind yourself exactly what he had done to you, which was not at all helped by the fact that he now had everything he’d ever wanted in life.

and you couldn’t fault your life. truly. but fuck did it sting sometimes, to know that your life had stagnated, stuck in the same shitty town you’d grown up in while he was on the other side of the country, more money than sense and a hoard of doting fans that would do absolutely anything he’d ask of them.

‘good,’ you bark, going to slam the door shut only for it to bang against his black boot wedged in the door, ‘if you don’t move your foot i’ll- i’ll call the police.’

‘no you won’t,’ his hand reaches out to grab onto the other side of the handle, he could’ve easily pushed his way in if he’d really wanted, ‘let’s talk.. like adults,’ begging you now, ‘please.’

you huff, this would end with you either letting him in or being forced to wake ella after you bashed his head into the doorframe. it was easier to just accept the first option and you’d find some bullshit to get him to leave later on.

opening the door wider to let him in, keeping your eyes square on the ground as he walks through, peering around at your home. probably comparing it to his mansion in the hollywood hills the pretentious fuck.

‘nice..’ he nods, leaning in to look at the photo of you and ella a few christmas’ ago, she was tiny then, sporting a miniature santa hat.

‘yeah well, she’s asleep upstairs so.. make it quick,’ you frown, closing the door behind him, watching as his eyes take in the cluttered room, smile fading when he catches sight of the singular picture you have up of jason and ella.

‘i can’t believe you chose to fuck jason of all people.. i mean, i’ve made some shitty decisions in my life but..’ he stops himself from going any further when he sees your face, if looks could kill, he’d be long gone by now.

‘did you come here for a reason? or are you here to talk about my life decisions.. because i really don’t want to hear it from you,’ crossing your arms over your chest, wanting him out of your house.

‘no.. no, shit- i’m sorry,’ he shuffles on his feet, banging his head, ‘i wanna talk.. properly.’

you roll your hand to motion for him to continue, ‘go on..’

he inhales, chewing on the inside of his cheek, trying to psyche himself up to actually say what he wanted to say. it wasn’t that he didn’t know what to say, he just couldn’t string it together to make sense.

‘i’m sorry for the way i treated you.. it wasn’t right and i know that now,’ his hand coming to rub the back of his clammy next, why was your house so fucking hot?

‘okay.. apology accepted, was that everything?’ you say flatly, glancing up the stairs to make sure ella wasn’t awake and out of her room.

his face falls, ‘can you just.. just let me explain,’ his adam apple bobbing as he swallows, ‘why don’t you sit down..’ motioning towards your ratty couch.

you relent your stern stature, hesitantly going to sit on the couch, trying to ensure that he couldn’t possibly sit next to you by sprawling your legs out onto the empty cushion. so he takes the seat furthest away, running his hands down his tight jeans. designer, no less.. the only person you knew stupid enough to spend thousands on designer jeans just to tear holes in them.

‘when i ended things with you, i wasn’t.. well, it was me, but i had my manager screaming in my ear that it’d never work and he could hook me up with some fuckin’ model.. it’d help the band.. so that’s what i did,’ and for once, he looked genuinely remorseful, fiddling with the loose threads on his expensive jeans.

‘so you sold out? that’s your excuse?’

his head shoots up, mouth hung open with absolute disgust all over his face, ‘i am not a sell out.’

which is incredibly refutable, you’d heard a snippet of one of their recent songs on the radio at work and it had sounded exactly like the commercial shit he used to rag on when you were together. not a touch on the corroded coffin you sat and watched practice for hours on end.

‘oh? so you didn’t break up with me to further your career? you just wanted to fuck hot models? which one is it ‘cause i’m a little confused here,’ completely losing it, springing up from your slouched position.

‘okay, yeah.. yeah i did, i broke up with you because i wanted to fuckin’ make something of my life.. and look at where i am and look at-,’

‘-don’t you dare finish that sentence,’ you snap, gritting your teeth together as you near his face, positively shaking with rage.

‘what’re you gonna do? you gonna hit me? do it,’ his chin tilted to match your elevated position, eyes glued to yours.

‘i should.’

his lips twitch into a smirk, ‘you won’t.’

and before your brain has the time to really process your next movements, he balls his fist into your t-shirt, causing your chest to collide into his as his lips smash into yours, knocking the air out of your lungs.

scrambling to find his shoulders for balance, sliding one hand onto his stubbly cheek. it’s all teeth and tongues, he’s ravenous and unrelenting, letting go of his grip on your shirt to place his hands on your hips, ‘move,’ mumbling against your lips as he attempts to manoeuvre you onto his lap while twisting around.

he slides down the couch, keeping a solid hold of your body as you find the right position. your legs are either side of his waist, sliding into the gap between his body and the couch sitting right on his crotch. wasting absolutely zero time in connecting your lips against, honestly not wanting to run the risk of him opening his mouth and ruining this.

his large hands find solace on your ass, creeping up to remove the oversized shirt you’d thrown on. you place your hand above his, restricting him from moving any further. it’s not that you were embarrassed- okay, maybe you were a little. but your body had changed since becoming a mom and eddie had become accustomed to gorgeous models and perfect women that he’d certainly not want to see your boring, frumpy mom body.

he groans in protest, trying again to lift the shirt further only for your fingernails to dig into his hand, ‘no,’ speaking into the filthy kiss.

eddie pulls away from the kiss, fingers coming to gently brush the hair from your face, ‘you can’t be serious? i’ve seen it all before,’ he grumbles, fingers itching to try lift it again.

‘not like this you haven’t.. i just.. want it on, okay?’

‘no- why won’t you let me take this off?’ fingers curling around the hem, already trying his luck with getting it up again.

you sigh, meeting his blown out eyes with your glossy ones, ‘i don’t even know what i’m doing.. fuck,’ attempting to climb off of his lap while the spare hand he has on your ass clamps you down, keeping you pressed to him.

‘hey.. hey, keep it on.. i don’t care,’ already trying to chase your lips, ‘i’m just saying, you don’t need to,’ the denim covering his growing erection starting to rub against your throbbing clit, the sparse material of your pajama shorts were not leaving much to the imagination.

‘jesus christ, just take it off,’ giving up in your protest, it was useless against eddie’s persistence.

you press your lips to his the second your shirt is off, there was no time to judge your body if he couldn’t see it. pulling at his jacket to get it off, the metal buttons digging into your now bare skin.

‘i didn’t.. i didn’t mean.. what i said..’ babbling through the kiss as he shimmies out of the jacket, landing on the floor with a soft thud.

‘shut up,’ you whine, running your hand along the length of his chest until you reach the hem of his black shirt, gripping your fingers around the fabric and lifting it slightly, exposing his midriff, the soft trail of hair ascending the skin.

his head jerks backwards, allowing you to tug the shirt off, finally allowing his eyes to wander to your chest. ‘holy shit,’ he remarks like he’d never seen a pair of tits before. it’s futile for him to pretend that he hadn’t seen some amazing boobs in his time so you scoff, rolling your eyes.

working your hand at his belt buckle, fiddling with the metal until it pops undone. he’s hard already and it makes you groan, brushing your hand over the raised denim. this week seriously must’ve been difficult if he was getting hard so easily over you.

it doesn’t ever occur to you how much of a mistake this was. and even if it did, you didn’t have much time to ponder on it as his hands are grabbing at your breasts, palming them as his lips suck at your jaw and down onto your neck softly. guaranteed to leave a lovely violet mark that the old ladies at work would certainly gasp at.

he’s helping you with his jeans, one hand gripping onto your waist to keep you steady as he lifts his hips from the couch and the other hurriedly yanking them down just enough to reveal his boxers. that’s the next port of call, fingers grabbing at the thin black cotton, pulling them down his thighs as his cock springs into action.

eddie’s lips are still on your neck while you mindlessly wrap your hand around his cock, pumping your fist as you shuffle upwards. his breath hitches in his throat, still peppering sloppy kisses to the sensitive skin.

‘oh god,’ he whines into your collarbone, feeling his eyelashes flutter against your jaw. for a man who had been painted as womaniser in the media, he sure was still just as pathetic as he used to be underneath you.

you’re a little annoyed that it’s you who’s taking control right now. after so many years of disrespect from his end, you think he at least owed it to you to take charge.

your hand grabs onto his shoulder, pulling his face from your neck, ‘be quiet, okay?’ sitting taller to position yourself comfortably, the harsh fabric of the couch grazing your knees.

he nods, sliding his hand up your waist and back to your hip, taking in the sight of you. you wouldn’t ever admit it aloud, but truthfully, you really did miss him sometimes. missed the way his pretty pink lips looked after being glued to yours or the way he gazed at you doing the most mundane tasks.

you cant your hips, sinking down onto his length slowly, biting down onto your bottom lip as his cock fills you to the hilt. his eyelids flicker, fingernails digging into your doughy hips. it’s been a little while since you’d done this so you have to take a second to become accustomed to the slight stretch. it’s good, in the most masochistic way.

your hands cling onto his shoulders, watching his slack jaw, tiny breaths escaping from his mouth as you attempt to move. painstakingly slow at first, knees beginning to shake as you try to remember what you should even be doing. your cheeks flushing, feeling so incredibly embarrassed. the man was fucking models and then you’re here, pitifully trying to ride him. it’s awful, you know it’s awful.

his arm comes to snake around your waist, taking matters into his own hands and flipping the two of you around, your back suddenly pressed into the couch. holy shit. you appreciate the initiative, wrapping your legs around his waist, readjusting your grip on his shoulders.

‘need you a little faster than that darling,’ large hands digging into the couch either side of your head. you’d feel utterly mortified if you weren’t thoroughly enjoying the sight of him looming over you, his hair falling beautifully into your face.

eddie starts slow at first, moving his hips slowly, obviously well versed. your mouth opens but no noise escapes, well aware that you weren’t the only ones in your house. instead you pant softly, desperate for his lips to grace yours again.

it’s not long before he’s quickening his pace, unable to contain himself when you feel so perfect around him. ‘i missed you- fuck, i’ve missed you so much,’ he groans, keeping his voice low despite wanting to start screaming.

you don’t reply, too fucked-out to even think about words. eyes drooping as his cock nudges against the soft spongy spot no one other than him had been able to reach.

the couch creaks beneath you, the old thing unable to keep up with his rutting hips, the top of your head knocking into the arm rest every time his hips collided with yours. your living room had never bore witness to such filth and as quiet as you were trying to be, the sounds are indistinguishable.

having to bite down onto your lip when his thumb meets your clit, legs tightening around his waist with every soft circle he draws around the sensitive bud. eddie was never bad in bed but holy shit, maybe money had done something right for him.

he sits up, soft sighs falling out of his lips as his hand disconnects from your clit, sliding toward your knee and positioning your leg onto his shoulder. your nails press into his forearm, willing yourself to stay quiet even now he’s seemingly trying to kill you.

and through it all, he’s smirking. relishing the way you’re writhing around, trying not to cum when he nudges against that sweet, spongy spot this position allowed.

his thumb finds your clit again, ‘holy shit sweetheart.. you gonna cum?’ grunting softly with every thrust.

you’re positively wrecked beneath him, face pressed into the couch cushion as your stomach flips. panting into the fabric, incoherent ramblings of eddie’s name and a bunch of curse words fill the room.

‘cum for me baby.. shit,’ struggling to keep his own pace as you tighten around him, leg trembling around his neck as your orgasm takes over. pleasure overtaking your limbs as your hips buck instinctively, thankfully muffled by the couch.

‘oh my god,’ you breathe, struggling to see straight when your eyes eventually reopen, gazing up at eddie above, certain he’s about to draw blood from his teeth digging in to his lip.

‘where.. where shall i- shit,’ he squeezes out, feeling his hips begin to stutter, eyes rolling to the back of his head. he’s just about quick enough to pull out, thick ropes of cum paint your thighs. narrowly avoiding the couch.

if you had the energy to get annoyed, you would’ve snapped, but in all honesty, your brain was still reeling and anger was the last thing you felt.

eddie reaches over, ever the gentleman and grabs his shirt to clean his mess. didn’t matter to him obviously, he had more than enough money to buy another.

and there it is. the bitterness filling your body again the second he’s no longer on top of you, or inside of you rather. you attempt to bite it down.

‘you wanna talk now?’ he asks, pulling his boxers back up to a more respectable position.

‘i’m tired eddie,’ and you are, on a school night like tonight you’d have been fast asleep by now.

he sighs, shoulders slumping over. even after you’d just had the most mind-altering sex, you couldn’t speak to him. ‘please,’ pleading with you almost, desperate for one more chance.

maybe it’s the exhaustion or maybe the dopamine still pumping through your brain but you concede, pulling your shirt back over your head before motioning for him to speak.

‘i don’t have any excuses, i’m just-,’ he sighs, turning on the couch to face you fully, ‘i’m sorry for hurting you, i was wrong and i know that,’ his eyes are dipped, peering at you from underneath his spindly lashes, ‘why d’you think i’ve avoided this place for so long?’

‘i don’t know? because you’re a pussy? because you’re too scared to face me?’ letting the words rattle off your tongue without much thought.

‘because i’m embarrassed,’ he corrects, without much offence, ‘because i’m ashamed and feel like i owe you more than some dick and a shitty apology.. i just didn’t know how i could ever make it up to you,’ half-moon eyes glossy in the low light.

your heart thumps in your chest, blood echoing through your ears. eddie munson, world renowned rockstar was sat on your couch, apologising for something you should’ve forgotten about a long time ago.

the years of hatred and avoidance come tumbling down in a millisecond. all you’d ever wanted was to hear him say sorry. to admit that he’d fucked you over for a life of fame and now you had it, you weren’t exactly sure what to even do with it.

‘okay.. now what? are you gonna make it up to me? because i want to believe you eddie, i do.. but you can’t just traipse in here and expect me to forgive you like that,’ the tears roll over, sliding down your warm cheeks.

he nods, grabbing onto your hands in a last ditch gesture to show his sincerity, ‘i’m going to.. i-i want to,’ he’s still nodding, bringing his face closer to yours, ‘tell me how, i’ll do anything,’ adam’s apple bobbing with every word.

‘stay here,’ your eyes are trained on him, ignoring the blurred vision, ‘not forever, just for now,’ lips pursed, ready to be broken once more.

you half-expect him to come out with some sorry excuse, tell you he had to get back to his hotel so he couldn’t possible stay here.

but he doesn’t.

eddie takes your hand, tugging it gently and with words you don’t register, babbles something about bed. so you follow him, allowing him to guide you to your room and slide in between the sheets next to you.

everything is so gentle, soft and pure. something you hadn’t felt in a long time.

-

‘hey.. sweetheart,’ eddie’s hand gently shakes your arm, whispering into your ear, ‘you awake?’

you squint in the dim light, feeling his hand descend onto your waist, chest pressed against your back, ‘i am now,’ you grumble, it was early.. early even by ella’s standards.

‘i gotta go.. you got work today?’ he asks, making no effort to actually get up and leave your bed though.

you nod into the pillow, rubbing your sleep heavy eyes. in your sleep hazed state, you shuffle, moving backwards against him.

‘okay.. shit- don’t do that,’ strained as you shift against him, unknowingly brushing against his cock, ‘i’ll be back.. after you..’ he’s losing it a little now, ‘after you finish..’ lips pressed to your ear.

you were moving deliberately now, just ever-so-slightly rocking your hips back and forth, you could feel him growing against your ass.

‘i can’t..’ he groans, grip tightening on your hip,

‘please,’ you breathe, reaching backwards to find his mop of curls, taking a fistful for leverage as his own hip’s thrust into your backside, his low growls only spurring you on.

you had been on your own for so long now, could he really blame you?

eddie doesn’t leave for another hour, creeping out of your house with his head low and a shit eating grin plastered on his face.

-

the key turns in your door as you’re loading the dishwasher. you’d given steve a spare for emergencies but it seemed to get used for anything but.

he slinks into the kitchen where you stand with your back to him, ‘hey,’ already knowing who it was.

‘well hello,’ announcing his presence, something about his tone of voice already seemed off, he sounded short, annoyed almost, ‘how have you been?’

‘i’m good..’ you spin to face him, puzzled by his strange demeanour, ‘how are you?’

he’s holding onto something behind his back but you can’t quite catch a glimpse, ‘actually.. i’m a little pissed off,’ you can tell he’s not completely serious by the hint of a smile on his face.

‘hmm? why’s that?’

he looks around the room expectedly, ‘oh i don’t know.. you don’t have anything to tell me, do you?’ shaking his head, still gripping onto this mystery object.

‘no..’ narrowing your eyes, determining whether he knew what you thought he knew.

he did, he one hundred percent did. holy fuck. he’d figured you out already. eddie had opened his big, stupid mouth and told dustin, who would’ve told steve and god knows who else. fucking moron.

‘no? soo..’ his pulls the magazine from behind his back, flipping it to the page he’d already saved, ‘this isn’t real then?’ shoving the glossy pages into your face, ‘because to me.. this looks an awful lot like eddie.. at this very house,’ he jabs his finger at the pixelated image, ‘and this little blob here.. that’s you, no?’

you’re utterly gobsmacked. mouth hung open in pure shock. because that most definitely was eddie.. and your house.. and you. you hadn’t seen anyone with a camera, hell, you hadn’t seen anyone on the street at all.

‘and correct me if i’m wrong, but is this not our friend eddie leaving your house the next morning?’ showing the next image of him leaving your house the day after, hair unruly and messed up, holding his denim jacket in his arms as he climbs into his car.

your mouth moves but no words come out, croaking as you struggle to meet steve’s eyes. completely speechless, there was no feasible excuse. you had been caught with your pants down. literally.

‘i can explain,’ waving your hands around while steve stands smug against the kitchen counter. ‘..no i can’t,’ shoulders slumped as you blink at your best friend, no you really couldn’t. suppose you could’ve come up with some lie about a look-a-like you’d been seeing but that would’ve made you look particularly strange.

‘were you ever gonna tell me?’ he’s almost hurt that you hadn’t ran to him to tell him immediately. this was true best friend gossip and you’d kept him from it.

‘i was! steve.. i don’t even know what happened- he came over to apologise and then we were arguing and then.. then we had sex and it’s not my fault..’ you’re trying, and failing, to contain your smile, flashing your cheeky grin to your best friend in the hopes he would let this slide.

‘i can’t believe you didn’t tell me!’ jutting his bottom lip out, ‘so, you’re getting back together?’ his eyes sceptical yet sparkling with a sense of hope. you’re grateful that all he seems to care about is the fact you lied. or actually, withheld the truth as you preferred it.

‘no.. well.. no, we had dinner together yesterday and he might’ve stayed over but no..’ shaking your head, ‘he’s leaving again soon and we both know what happened last time..’ you shrug, leaning back against the counter, ‘i guess i don’t hate him now, that’s good isn’t it?’

steve looks perplexed, ‘wait wait wait.. so you’re just.. screwing around? and then he leaves again, that’s it? what’s the point?’ taking a seat at the small kitchen table, fully engrossed in the conversation.

‘i dunno.. i guess that’s it?’ you hadn’t really thought about the fact that he’d be leaving again, in fact, you hadn’t really had time to think much at all about what was happening.

you’d just sort of acknowledged that at some point he’d go back to california and you’d stay here and whatever was happening would.. end? it wasn’t as if you were going to be super upset about it like you once were. lots of people fuck their ex’s.. this was fine.

because that’s what this is, right?

just sex with an ex?

‘that’s it?’ steve reiterates, looking completely flabbergasted that the woman who once left the room whenever eddie munson’s name was mentioned was now being so casual about this.

‘yeah,’ you shrug, not wanting to make a massive deal out of it though you could always rely on steve to be over dramatic on your behalf.

‘no,’ he straightens up in the chair, ‘all of this can’t be for nothing,’ sounding utterly exasperated, ‘you two obviously belong together so why don’t you go for it? i could see you living it up out in la.. big house, big car-,’

you cut him off before he can divulge into his delusions any further, ‘i think you’re getting ahead of yourself steve,’ shaking your head at his ludicrous attitude.

you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about it once or twice but it seemed silly to start imagining this crazy life together after all these years. he’d barely just made it into your good graces again, you were hardly going to run off to california with him. it was utter delusion.

‘okay okay..’ he scoffs, ‘but i still think you need to talk to him. i don’t want you getting hurt again, okay? just make sure that you’re both on the same page,’ nodding as he stands from his seat and begins to rummage through your cupboards for something to eat.

he was probably right and you knew it deep down. you weren’t keen on being the one to bring the conversation up, not after that first night. after you had sobbed in his arms in bed, letting him soothe you to sleep with a bunch of probable empty promises.

-

when eddie lets himself into your house a few hours later, steve’s eyebrows fly up his forehead but he doesn’t say a word. instead, he nods at the man, keeping his opinions to himself.

the pair of you resemble an old married couple, except you’re the grumpy old man with your wife cuddled into your side. your wife being steve that is.

‘oh.. is this uh, something that happens often?’ eddie asks, settling into the empty chair across from you. slightly miffed that steve was nestled into your side.

‘yup,’ you nod, smiling at him your chin resting on steve’s head. he hadn’t a reason to be jealous, you’d really rather poke your eyeballs out with a fork than do anything remotely sexual with steve.

‘right.. yeah okay,’ eddie says, looking perplexed but sitting back in the chair. if he was going to stick around then this would have to be something that he got used to. because you sure as hell weren’t going to stop being so close with steve for the guy that broke your heart at eighteen.

‘you want a drink?’ you ask, realising that you should probably be a good host even if it was only eddie.

‘yeah sure.’

you untangle yourself from steve and trundle off into the kitchen. steve takes this as the perfect opportunity to grill eddie on his intentions, sitting up straight and making sure that you were really gone before beginning his interrogation.

‘so.. you two?’

eddie shrugs, not wanting to get into it with steve after such a long day.

steve sighs, leaning toward eddie, ‘i’m gonna say this once.. but if you hurt her again, i will kill you,’ staring the other man down. contempt in his eyes. he was dead serious too.

‘i’m not- i’m not gonna hurt her,’ eddie sits up, praying that you’d hurry back with this damn drink.

‘i mean it eddie,’ raising his eyebrows, ‘you didn’t see how she was after you left.. i’m not going through that again, i’m not letting her go through that again.’

‘steve-,’ eddie blinks, stopping himself as you re-enter the room. hoping that you hadn’t heard their conversation, he’d only just got you to stop hating him. he wasn’t prepared to go back to that like, ever.

‘what’re you talking about?’ placing the bottle of beer in front of eddie and collapsing back into your spot on the couch.

‘football,’ steve answers quickly, groaning as he pushes himself off of the sofa, ‘i’m gonna head home, got work in the morning but i’ll see you tomorrow,’ he smiles, winking at you from above.

‘okay,’ you utter, sounding more like a question than a statement, watching carefully as he gathers his things without so much as a glance at eddie. you can only imagine what was actually said but that was truly none of your business.

you’d just grill eddie later to make sure steve hasn’t been too much of an asshole.

‘byee,’ you call out behind him, already eyeing a sheepish eddie. this’d probably be it. you’d known it was coming at some point, you just weren’t sure of when.

if steve’s sudden departure was anything to go off, you were probably right.

the door clicks shut and you turn your attention to eddie who was still sat on the solemn chair. oh god. maybe you had got a little used to having him around again and now to know that it’d all be coming to an abrupt end once again.. yeah you felt a tad shit.

‘what’d you say?’ you ask outright, it made zero sense to beat around the bush.

‘me?’ he looks almost offended, ‘i didn’t say shit.. didn’t get the chance to,’ but he’s smiling ever so slightly and your heart relaxes.

christ you were so stupid. letting him back into your life just to let him walk away a second time. perhaps you’d done something horrific in a past life to deserve this same fate twice.

‘so what did he say?’ you press, unsure of if your even wanted the answer.

eddie sighs before coming to collapse on the couch next to you, ‘it wasn’t important.. look, i wanna be honest with you,’ his hand comes to grab yours and you freeze, bracing yourself for what was inevitably going to come next. ‘you mean a lot to me and.. and i don’t want you to think that i don’t care or that i’m just leaving you again,’ his eyes are focussed on yours, full of what you hope is sincerity.

you don’t reply, instead you nod slightly and urge him to continue. this was it. the kicker. 

‘i’ve gotta go back to la next week,’ his grip tightens around your hand, ‘but i’m coming back as soon as i can, okay?’ he’s serious too and you’d like to believe him but if the past was anything to go by, you weren’t eager.

you nod silently. fuck this. once again, you were sat before eddie munson, listening to his plans to jet off to la. it felt like the cruelest case of deja-vu. if anything, you want to kick yourself for even allowing him to wiggle his way back into your heart. most people know better after the first time.

‘it’s three weeks.. maybe a month, but i’m coming back, i promise,’ he pleads, hanging his head low. he knows there’s absolutely nothing he could say to you that would make you believe him but he had to try.

you hum, frowning just a little before finally replying, ‘i’ve heard that before,’ not meaning to sound as snarky as you did, but it was true.

‘i’m serious, i’m not.. not gonna lose you again, i’ve learnt my lesson,’ his eyes are big and pleading and you’re thrown right back to being eighteen, listening to him convince you how going to la would be the best decision.

‘so.. what? you’re gonna come back to hawkins just to see me? i don’t-,’ you sigh, as much as you wanted to believe him, it just wasn’t plausible in your mind, ‘i just don’t understand, are we together or are you just coming back to fuck? you don’t have to, you know? i’ve made peace with it all and i’m fine.. you don’t have to lie to me anymore.’

if anyone was going to fuck this up, it would be you. that’s for certain.

‘what the fuck?’ he exclaims, genuinely flabbergasted, ‘this is me telling you that i’m serious about this.. about you,’ he takes your hand into his properly, scooting around to face you fully, ‘i love being here with you, and ella and there is nothing out in la worth more than this,’ you think he might just start crying, or you might. or perhaps both of you.

you sniff, not wanting to speak in fear of bursting into hysterics. it was all just so confusing and weird. you’d grown accustomed to eddie being on the other side of the country and now suddenly he was back in your life with what seemed like a a declaration of love. it was just too much to handle. and maybe you blame yourself a little, for not truly thinking about the implications of fucking your ex that had abandoned you years prior. but now it all just seemed to be hurtling in the most intense direction.

you were the one that had told him to stay after all. because really, you could’ve kicked him out, refused to ever even acknowledge him again. but you hadn’t.

‘are you telling me the truth?’ is all that you manage to squeak out. baring resemblance to a small child.

you really must’ve looked pathetic, eyes brimming with tears, bottom lip quivering as you hold in the implosion of emotions. it’s always scary being vulnerable with someone, let alone someone that once meant so much to you.

he still did. as much as you’re absolutely petrified to admit it, he’d weaselled his way back into your heart and now here you are, a mess of emotions and perplexing feelings that are too complicated to handle.

‘i promise you,’ he sighs, clearly fed up of your whining, ‘i’m coming back this time.’

and maybe you’re stupid. maybe you’re still hung up on some high school relationship that ended long ago but you can’t help it, you nod.

idiotically believing him because what else can you do after letting him into your home and your heart again.

[strniohoeee]

Can you do one with Chris where he overstims the reader until they use the safe word??🩵

Brutal

Pairing: Chris Sturniolo X Female Reader

Synopsis: Chris has been in one of his moods lately, and when Y/N doesn’t like it….Chris gets a little upset, and takes his anger out on her. This is for this request I got, and another request asking for an angry Chris🫂

Warnings⚠️: This is SMUT!! There’s spit, smacking, use of the word slut, dom Chris, overstimulation, and I think that’s all🤭

Song for the imagine: Bathroom, Hotel-Montell Fish

⚠️This is an 18+ imagine, so minors do not interact, or do??⚠️

I wasn’t too sure what was wrong with Chris lately, but he’s been so aggy and rude, and I had given him some space for a few days, because honestly me and a rude Chris equals me cursing him out and telling him to leave

I hadn’t seen him in three days, and we texted here and there but he was back at the house with his brothers. Nick and Matt created a groupchat with me and not Chris to tell me how fucking annoying and rude he’s been.

I honestly wasn’t shocked. Chris gets like this every few months. He gets all bitchy and annoying, and usually I have to fuck him, so he gets whipped back into shape. But I wasn’t his mommy, and this behavior had to stop

Nick was texting the groupchat about the latest issue between them

-Y/N Chris is so fucking annoying I’m not even sure how you deal with his annoying ass….like I’m about to put his ass out, and change the locks on the door-Nick

-It’s that fucking bad? What’s the issue now???

-He started complaining while we were filming about how the car video was stupid, he was hot, he was annoyed and that Nick and I couldn’t get our shit together-Matt

-The fuck is wrong with this kid?? Is he a fucking child?

-He might as well be. We had to stop filming because he started cursing like crazy, and started to hit us and shit. He fucking knocked me in my mouth and I started to bleed-Nick

-he’s so fuckkkg ridiculous…like I’m getting tired of putting up with this shit….

-Yeah, and then when we went back home, he started going off about the garbage not being done, and the fucking dishes not being done, but like when I told him to do he started flipping the fuck out-Matt

-Where’s he now??

-in his room yapping like an annoying bitch-Nick

-oh brother…let him calm down he’s having a temper tantrum

-yeah..put his ass in time out next time you see him -Matt

-I sure will LMFAOO

An hour had gone by, and I was just at home chilling. I had showered and I was reading a book when I got a text message

-Chris is on his way over to you…he literally flipped out on us again-Matt

-oh brother….time to play mommy with this kid

-LMFAOOOO lord help you idk how you do this-Nick

About thirty minutes later I heard my front door open, so I knew it was Chris

“Babe” he called out

“In my room” I yelled to him

I heard his Timbs hit the ground in thumps, and then suddenly my door busted open

“Yo” he said taking his hat and shoes off at my door

“Yo? Am I your homeboy” I said raising an eyebrow at him

“I’m not in the fucking mood” he said bluntly

“Oh excuse me…you better fix your attitude because I’m not doing this temper tantrum bullshit” I told him shutting my book and placing it on my nightstand

“Listen I’m not in the mood okay. I just want to see my girlfriend and decompress” he said walking over to the bed, taking off his shirt

“Yeah, and you’re not going to come in here with an attitude and bark at me about what you want to do in my HOUSE” I said rolling my eyes at him

“You piss me off sometime” he said looking over his shoulder and scoffing at me

“Well then….the doors right there Christopher” I said to him

“Stop fucking doing that….stop fucking calling me Christopher and talking down to me like I’m some fucking child whenever we get into an argument” He said giving me his back

“Don’t act like a fucking child, and I wouldn’t have to do this” I said to him

“I should fuck the shit out of you right now, so you know your place” he said running his hands through his hair

“Please Chris….we both know I fuck the SHIT out of YOU” I told him staring darts into the back of his head

“I’ll fuck you so hard you’ll won’t even know where you’re at” he said finally turning around and looking at me

“Try me then” I told him

Immediately Chris got up and came over to me looking down at me like I was his prey

He grabbed my neck and immediately my hands grabbed at his hands, and he smashed his lips into mine sloppily making out with me

He pulled away still looking down at me

“Fucking slut” he said and smacked me. I loved when he did that

He roughly grabbed my boobs through my shirt, squeezing them hard

“Can’t wait to fuck you dumb” he said ghosting his lips over mine

He removed his pants and was just down to his underwear’s.

“You’re so hot when you act like this” I said removing my shirt

“Shut up” he said pulling me in by my neck and making out with me, he then roughly pulled me away

“You gonna use that big fucking mouth of yours to suck my cock?” He asked

“Whatever you want” I told him

“Good…I trained you well” he said

He took his underwear’s off, and stood in front of me before once again grabbing me by my neck to bring me up to eye level with him

“Open your mouth” he said, and I obliged

He spat into my mouth and pushed me away

“Fucking suck my dick” he said sternly, and I immediately went to his dick

I started to lick the tip before hallowing my cheeks out

“Fuck yeah…so hot when you’re not barking at me and just sucking my cock” he said immediately putting his hands in my hair to push my head down causing me to gag

“Awww too big?” He said in a mean way

At this point he was just face fucking me. I was gagging and my eyes were watering non stop

“So good to me, but I’m ready to fuck you” he said immediately pulling me off of his dick

He swiftly removed my underwear and flipped me over so I was on all fours

“I love when I get to fuck you like this” he said smacking my ass

“OW ASSHOLE” I yelled at him

This caused him to pull me up by my hair causing me to wince

“Watch the way you fucking talk to me doll face” and then he threw me forward

He smacked my ass again and then massaged the ache away, spreading my legs and spitting on my pussy

“FUCK, CHRIS” I yelled out moaning into the sheets

He slowly rubbed his cock up and down my pussy causing me to whimper, and then suddenly he slammed into me

“CHRISSSSS” I moaned out loudly

This only amped him up because he started to pound into me so fast and hard I couldn’t even think at all

“Taking me so well like a good slut” he said smacking my ass and fucking into me

Chris was gripping my waist so hard while pounding into me non stop, I had never been fucked this hard by Chris and I was loving every second of it

“FUCK FUCK FUCK” I started screaming out as he drilled into me

“Take it slut fucking take it” he said grunting from behind me

Chris attack wasn’t slowing down, and I was drooling all over my sheets….he was literally fucking me dumb

“Is she drooling everywhere….pathetic” he said smacking my ass again

“CHRISTOPHERRRR” I yelled out

He grabbed my arms and started to pound into me, my nails scratching and digging into his arms….he would for sure have marks

“Chris Chris I’m gonna cum” I yelled out, and immediately came all over his cock while moaning like a bitch

“I didn’t say you could cum…just for that you’re giving me two more” he said

“No Chris I can’t” I said whimpering

“YES YOU WILL” he said pulling out of me, and flipping me over to face him

He smacked my cunt and then spat on my pussy again. Causing me to moan out

He immediately slammed into me causing me to shiver because I was so sensitive still

“Youre gonna take it, and you’re gonna take it good” he said slamming into me and coming down to leave sloppy kisses all over my neck

I had my legs wrapped around his waist while he relentlessly pounded into me. I started to grip and scratch at his back

“FUCK CHRIS” he screamed out scratching harder

“Fuck baby keep doing that” he said as he started to kiss my neck and slowly taking one nipple into my mouth

“Oh god” I moaned out throwing my head back

Chris was pounding into me, and then suddenly he brought his hand down to my clit to start rubbing ruthlessly

“FUCK FUCK IM GOING TO CUM” I screamed out gripping onto his hair with my right hand

“Come on baby you still owe me one more” he said as he fucked into me harder

I felt myself clench down on Chris, and suddenly my back was lifting off the bed as I was cumming all over Chris’s cock again

“AHHHH” I started to yell out as my nails scratched harder

“One more” he said still pounding into me

“CHRIS NO NO” I said moaning out

“YES” he said, and continued to pound into me

Causing me to whimper and tears to form in my eyes

“Keep on baby cum on my cock so I can fill you up” he said thrusting into me harder

Chris was pounding into me so hard my mouth fell slack and my eyes shut. He was grunting above me and his sweat started to drip down onto me

“Oh fuck Chris” I said as I felt another orgasm beginning to form

“Come on baby give it to me” he said thrusting into me harder

“FUCK” I screamed out as my legs began to shake and I came all over Chris again. I was seeing flashes of white, and my body was shaking from how hard I just came

Chris soon came into me while moaning out my name with a slack jaw. He was fucking into me still trying to ride out his high

“ROSE ROSE ROSE” I started to scream out our safe word as it was becoming too much for me. He immediately pulled out

“Sorry baby. Are you okay?” He asked coming and laying next to me

“Yes baby…it was too much” I said weakly

“I’m sorry my love” he said running his hands through my hair

“It’s okay…that felt amazing” I said looking at him with lazy half lidded eyes

After Chris had fucked the shit out of me he had to help me to the bathroom, and we showered together, and went to lay back in my bed

“I’m sorry for being such a dick” he said stroking my hair

“It’s okay baby. You just gotta talk about your feelings more” I said kissing him on the cheek

“I’m trying, I will do better” he said kissing my forehead

“I love you, and know that I’m always here to talk to you” I told him

“I love you too baby, and yes I know that, so from now on I’ll come to you, so I’m no longer in these weird funks” he said to me

That night we fell asleep in each others arms, and the next day Nick had asked me to come over so we could have a pool day, so Chris and I got ready and headed back over to his house

When we got to the house Nick and Matt were already sitting in the pool chairs getting ready to get in the water at any moment

“Heyy guys” I said as Chris and I walked over to them

“Hey Y/N…..how’s the baby?” Matt asked laughing at Chris

“He’s better now” I said looking over at Chris and pinching his cheeks

“Fuck off” he said laughing and pulling away

We had all been sitting around for 20 minutes before deciding to get in the water

Chris removed his shirt, and when he turned around to jump into the water my mouth dropped

The scratches….he had scratches all over his back and arms

“No wonder he’s in a good mood” Nick said looking over at me

“Oh my god” I said starting to giggle

“The fuck ya talking about” Chris asked turning around

“Your back looks like you got into a fight with an animal” Matt said

“No wonder my back was burning” he said rubbing his chin

“Yall make me sick” Nick said

“Sorry I was fucking the shit out of her last night that would explain the good behavior on my part today” Chris said smiling at them

“CHRISTOPHER” I yelled, and then pushed him into the water

When he came to the surface he reached up and pulled me in by my arm. That day we spent the whole day in the pool, laughing, chatting and just have a good time

I kind of want Chris to get in those moods more often….loved the way he treated me yesterday

The End

Alright here’s some Chris smut for yall! Hope you enjoyed and I hope the people who requested this liked it🖤🖤 thank you all for 365 followers . This is insane like a week ago I had 60 followers??🥹🥰

-J💅🏽

[loverofthewindgod]

Shower Show (18 +)

A/N: I thought about Fujin watching me while I shower, and boom came this story. Please enjoy! 😉😉😊😊

You return home from a month-long mission, warmly welcomed back by your beloved Lord Fujin. He's just as excited, if not more, as you are to spend time together, but first you wanna freshen up and take a very well-deserved shower. “Ahhh…this feels so nice…” The hot water felt amazing, washing away the dirt, stress, and bullshit from your skin and hair. As you relaxed, you heard the curtain shuffle behind you and turned around to find Fujin biting his lip and stroking his member while gazing at you in all your wet glory.

“Heh, couldn't help yourself, huh? Don't worry, I'm almost done.”

"Ohh, do not mind me, my love. Take all the time you need, and I'll enjoy this wonderous view."

Don't let his adorable soft gaze fool you. The second you step out of the shower, he will go absolutely feral on you. Pretty sure your body was more heated than the water at that point just thinking about it. As you continue to wash yourself, your mischievous mind decides to take over and tease the man. You rubbed all over your body in such a sultry manner, fondling your own breasts, hands tracing your curves as your hips give a little shake. You glance over your shoulder a bit to see Fujin mesmerized, stroking himself a bit faster as he enjoys the sexy water dance.

"Haa...you're just soo fucking beautiful..."

The desperation in his tone and groans are turning you on more and more. He's absolutely craving you right this moment, but hey, he decided to torture himself by watching. You smirked as you turned back around, bending over to rub your legs. The groan that left Fujin's throat as he saw your massive plump ass just a few inches from his cock, man oh man it drove him insane.

"You're playing a very, very dangerous game, sweetheart..."

“Am I now?”

Indeed you were. You began to rub your pussy, spreading your lips to display your tight, moist entrance with a seductive look in your eye.

“All for you baby…”

Aaaand with that....that right there was the final blow that broke the wind god. Accepting your invitation, he immediately shut off the water, picked you up over his shoulder and plopped you down on the bed. He didn't care how wet the bed was, he was gonna make you even wetter. You sat up on your elbows, taking the sight of Fujin removing all his clothes, his eyes completely filled with lust as he crawled his way towards you.

"I'm glad you've enjoyed yourself, sweetheart. But now it is my turn..."

Fujin swiftly pulled you by the legs towards him, and spread them wide open. Immediately digging his face in your pussy, you yelped very loudly, grasping onto his hair before he took both your hands and placed them at your side, going to town on you. His tongue rapidly penetrates your entrance, slurps up your entire mound like its ice cream and sucks the ever living fuck out of your sensitive clit. It was way too much and before you knew it, your legs trembled ferociously with your sweet delicious nectar exploding all over his face. You were a screaming, squirming mess.

“Ahhh! Nghh! Mmmm! Oh my- oh my g-AHH!! FUUUCK!! OHHHH!”

Fujin chuckled as he wiped his face and laid himself on top of you to whisper in your ear.

"So soon, what a shame. I was just getting started….”

Fujin then stuffed himself inside of you, and the sensation was just blissful.

"Nngh…FUCK!…" Fujin hissed, trying to compose himself.

That might've been the sexiest "Fuck" you've ever heard and it made you tighten around him even more. Without wasting another second, Fujin lifted up your legs and began thrusting like a madman. The slick wet noises echoed throughout the room, and you covered your mouth trying not to scream your lungs out, but Fujin feels way too damn good to not scream. He wanted to hear your sweet voice, to be reminded how good he makes you feel. His pace quickened, and you were just in heaven. You caught a glimpse of him immersed in the sight of his cock going in and out of you, his moans getting louder and louder before he halted himself and flipped you over on your stomach. He took you from behind, his pace now at a dangerous level. Your screams were buried in the pillows, hands and teeth gripping the sheets for dear life as he gripped your hips, enjoying the sight of your ass bouncing from his relentless pounding. You felt your knot break and came again, as did Fujin, screaming his ass off as he blesses your insides with copious amounts of his seed.

The both of you collapsed on the bed. Exhausted but oh so satisfied, panting as your naked, sweaty bodies snuggled together. But before engaging in another round, you needed to refuel. “Can we order takeout, please?” Fujin chuckled in agreement, kissing your cheek, super delighted to have you back.

[ceasarslegion]

wait, now im really interested in the silica gel drama. how did hlrp sex ed lead to eating a gel packet?

This is going to require a novel's length of context.

To begin, I want to underline that this is not meant to be a callout post, and I will not be providing any identifying traits that could be used to single this person out. The most you will get out of that are she/her pronouns, and her age at the time this happened, which was years ago, and I will not specify what year. I genuinely do hope she got the help she needed after this, because LORD knows she needs it and didn't find it at home. This is also not meant to be a character assassination, nor should anybody who reads this post consider it to be a takedown of any sort, and if you try to find this person through me or any of our mutual friends, you will not be met with kind words. The only thing this is meant to be is a wild-ass story of some of the most off the wall experiences I personally had with this person from my specific side of the story, with a few no-username screenshots attached to prove I am not bullshitting you.

With that in mind, let's get started. This is going to be very long, so I'm throwing in a read more

Back when I was in uni, I joined a growing group of Half Life roleplay blogs. The whole idea of our group was that we each chose a character, canon or OC, and we would blog as if the pre-Black Mesa incident moment in the timeline was a workplace comedy a la The Office or Superstore. I played Barney, because I was already working night shift security at this point and thought it would be funny. Plus, it gave me something to do that wasn't staring at CCTV feeds all night tossing a ball against the wall. We played off of each other very well, yes-anding our way through funny little situations and plotlines we put together. At one point we had roleplayed enough that one of the scientist rpers created a discord server for us to talk as the actual people we are instead of through characters.

Great idea at the time. None of us saw the "Pandora's box" label on the tin before we opened it. Would I still join it if I knew what was about to transpire? Yes, because I met my boyfriend and many genuinely lovely friends through it. Would I hesitate for a second first, though, as the events that are about to transpire flashed before my eyes? Oh, abso-fucking-lutely.

We started off as many fandom servers do: chill for the most part, very loud minority of a few assholes who ruined it for the rest of us, but unlike most fandom servers, we actually won and it ended in them getting banned and the server itself surviving to this day. But the other two lunatics are not who you came here for. You want the christian lunatic.

Let's give her a nickname to make this easier. I have the Sylveon build a bear on my PC desk. Let's call her Syl.

Syl was not there for Half Life, she was there for Portal. She LOVED Portal, Half Life was just part of the same universe for her. Portal wasn't just a game for her, it was her entire personality. Which I didn't see much of an issue with at the time, because she said she was 15. Whatever, I thought; she'll learn to control her emotional attachment to things as she gets older. Syl also said that she was christian. I am a flaming atheist who doesn't even believe in the concept of a soul in comparison and I am NOT the biggest fan of christianity as an institution to put it mildly, but I'm not gonna like, be a dick to you for your personal religion if you are not a dick about my beliefs, so I didn't think much of it at the time.

It quickly became apparent that Syl looked up to me more than any of the other adults in the group the more I would talk about my life growing up as a third culture kid and moving out on my own at 19, working 2 jobs and going to a good university. She would ask me a lot about growing up and uni and moving out and yes, sex ed, and it became even more apparent that she didn't get any actual guidance from her parents or pastors or ANYBODY beyond bible studies and homeschooling, so I kinda stumbled into a mentorship role in her life. I wasn't cold, but I was aware of the age and maturity difference between us and established the appropriate boundaries with her and made it very clear that I am an internet friend, not an irl friend or an educator, but if no one else was going to give her information that wasn't actively harmful then fuck, I guess SOMEONE had to do it. I could not in good conscience watch some kid go through life with harmful inaccuracies about the world and basic human biology when I could have done something about it, y'know?

And the more things I taught her about the real world and how things actually work rather than how her republican bible-thumping rural town said they did, the more I realized she was born into a full-blown cult under the guise of a christian congregation. Oh goody, I had my work cut out for me. I will not get into the details of how messed up this group was because it will be a dead giveaway of where she lives and potentially who she is, but let's just say that one time I said that I appreciated the gesture of praying for me during a stressful week I was having but it didn't really do anything for my mental health because I was an atheist, and she sent me a bunch of bible verses begging me to start believing and said "I just don't want you to go to hell because you're so nice :((" EXCUSE ME??? Another time she said that death was only sad for non-christians because their loved ones were in hell and that proper christians deaths were a good thing because they were in heaven now. Hi, that's the most insensitive death cult shit I've ever heard in my goddamn life.

Okay, set up is done. All of these details will tie in like the world's worst reboot of Pulp Fiction, I prommy.

After a good long while learning about the world from me (which like... a uni kid working night shift security is not exactly an academic source but we take what we can get) and exposure to viewpoints outside of her in-group, Syl began that very painful journey of realizing that what the cult taught you was a lie. Except that she just wasn't grasping that unlearning things was an active process. She started to flip to the opposite side very quickly, but kept all the fundamental brainwashing of the cult that raised her. The concepts were all the same, just slapped a different label on them. This created a noticeable pull between two sides of the same personality: the cult personality, and the person beyond the cult who wanted to break free. Mix that with how fucking 15 years old every 15 year old is, and you have a LETHAL concoction just waiting to blow up at the first sign of a spark.

Remember how I said that Portal was her whole personality? Syl decided that she wanted to be a scientist, and go into an ivy league program like I was in (I was in a SOCIAL science, but sure). Problem was, she didn't have the grades or the ambition, really. I had told her that I still got into an ivy league when I failed math in high school, and she seemed to completely miss the part where I said that I also joined every extra-curricular, then worked for 2 gap years for recognized institutions, and wrote an essay about why my math grade is not relevant to my program. I did it with one bad grade, so she was justified in basically just slacking off and then excusing it with "but its haaarrrdd" when we'd tell her she needs to put the fucking work in NOW if that's what she wants to do.

It quickly derailed from here. Not only was she going to be a scientist, she was going to be like Cave Johnson. And she was going to... replace her body with robot parts so she could be like glados. I don't... think she actually knew what science is, because she would just publically fantasize about running unethical experiments on people in the name of "science," and talk about how one day she wants to basically establish aperture labs for real. All of us who were there kind of agree that we don't think she was joking based on what we knew about her and the cadence of her tone. Here's something she said at the time to give you an idea of what direction she was nosediving in:

This was after a session with her therapist where said therapist said that she definitely has some kind of personality disorder, after which she was weirdly proud of having one and treated it like a badge of honour.

Syl then made a separate group chat for all the best friends she made on the server. There was her, me, @false-pyre, and @imtheaura. She titled it "My Family," despite the fact that we were all adults and she was 15 and she only knew us over a discord half life server where one person in it stepped up to somewhat equip her for real life outside of a cult. Regardless though that GC was more the vibe of a group of friends sharing memes and chatting about the day than the wider server was at the time. The others began to also take on a sort of mentorship role towards her as well, because that's kind of inevitable when you get someone talking about teenager problems in a room full of adults who all made the same mistakes before in their own lives. Well, minus the cult.

And remember how I said that she didn't unlearn any of the cult shit? Well, there was a lot of proselytizing. She decided she wasn't christian for a spell, but still wanted us and everyone to know that jesus was the lord and savior and we had to accept him or we'd burn in hell. Usually said after we'd make some joke about satan being daddy or declaring ourselves god instead, because that is just the type of humor the others and i have with each other. She took it so personally whenever one of us would go "oh my god" "you called?" it was fucking annoying. I lost count of the amount of lectures she gave us, all of which I'd shut down and tell her to get a grip about because I have a big stupid mouth.

The others and I also like to talk about evolution, and speculate about where we're going from here. My fucking god, did she not like that. She bit our heads off about how evolution isn't real and god made everyone as we are and there's no scientific evidence or whatever the hell. Like yeah good luck getting into STEM with that mindset. Whenever we pointed out that she was objectively wrong about that, she'd have a big stupid meltdown about how much we're slandering god and how jesus died for us and we're spitting in his face or whatever. He should spit in MY face inste-*GUNSHOT*

Eventually, we were making some actual progress with her. She was still one fry short of a happy meal and going off about how much she wanted to put living subjects in test tubes in between knocking on our doors and reciting Hello from the Book of Mormon musical, but we were getting somewhere. And then she went back to in person school, and her favourite teacher got fired.

The schoolboard did not say why she got fired, but we all had our suspicions that it was because she openly supported queer rights in a cult town. She was coincidentally retired shortly after making a declaration that queer people are still welcome in god's kingdom. This teacher was the first in person adult Syl had for guidance, so that incident shook her to her core, and she fell right back into the extremism. Hook, line, and sinker, even more extreme than before.

She was WEIRD that week, man. Suddenly everything was about how great god was, how amazing jesus was. Suddenly she understood why her cult member parents "just wanted to protect her" from gay characters on disney+ originals. Suddenly no one could say "jesus christ lol" around her or she'd have a fit. I said "I hate cycle counts lmao i wanna kms" because my then-job (I had graduated at this point) made me do inventory management spontaneously and wouldn't let me go home until I had counted every product in the store, and she bit my head off accusing me of turning suicide into a joke.

It was that incident that made us tell her to knock it off already, that we understood it was a hard week for her and she was in a period of grief, but that is no excuse for how she had been acting towards everyone around her that wasnt christian, and that she was actively relapsing. I'll let the exchange speak for itself:

So uh. After years of helping Syl through this she goes and pulls this bullshit. And then has the fucking AUDACITY to act like nothing ever happened in the wider server. I am genuinely gobsmacked by the balls on her to act like it was all sunshine and rainbows in the wider server after sending this and immediately leaving the same GC SHE made and titled "My Family" just because we told her to stop acting like a goddamn Jonestown citizen after all the work we'd put in to get her out of that mentality at this point.

So I dragged her up in front of everyone and essentially said "no, nuh uh, you don't get to say that shit to the people who have lost sleep and asked for nothing in return trying to help you escape a cult over the last 2 years and then act like we're all buddy buddy to everybody else. You don't get to be that arrogant and self-righteous without any consequences. I don't give a fuck how young you are, you DON'T treat the people who have helped you this much like that, you selfish little shit. How dare you treat us like this after all we've done for you over the years."

Unfortunately, no one involved had surviving screenshots of this, but they can back me up on it if they so choose. And oh boy, DID she face the consequences of her own actions. The whole server basically turned their heads and went "what the FUCK is wrong with you, Syl??" and asked her to at least like, apologize. She proceeded to double down with the added audacity of "you guys taught me how to establish healthy boundaries, that's all I'm doing right now :(( oh woe is me :(((" like WOW, okay. Someone's really going for the persecution complex.

Here's her last goodbye to us all before the mass block fest occured:

Oh, boohoo. You're so hard done by. You spat in the faces of everyone who stayed up all night multiple times helping you through crises and spent the last 2 years teaching you about how the world really worked and then they asked you to apologize after you tried to escape accountability. You truly are god's strongest soldier, the most persecuted minority in the world. Let me play you an ode to how righteous and holy you are and how this was the most important hill to sacrifice all your outsider friendships on on the world's smallest violin.

Syl then went on to post on her roleplay blog that she "was banned because I spoke up for what was right, and they didn't like that" before deleting it. Truly no one has suffered as much as you.

Anyway, the day after that went down, I called in from work, bought this book, and read the whole thing purely out of spite:

It was greatly therapeutic. After that incident, I vowed to never sanitize my own atheistic beliefs for the benefit of others again. If they don't like them, they don't have to talk to me. But I am not changing them for other people or keeping them quiet just to spare your feelings anymore, I have as much a right to my beliefs as anyone else does, including the world's most persecuted minority here.

And well, the silica gel incident?

There was one incident, during the height of Syl's "I am the irl cave johnson and only want to get into STEM to conduct unethical experiments on people. follow jesus" era, the rest of us were joking about how silica gel packets are the ultimate forbidden snack, and said "haha would eating it make you see shrimp colours" knowing full well it can kill you.

Syl proceeded to actually eat a silica gel packet and then send in "it has a sandy texture and tastes bad" prompting the rest of us to go "WE WERE FUCKING JOKING FIND YOUR POISON CONTROL HOTLINE RIGHT NOW"

And because i didnt get this done until now, I'll tag everyone who said they wanted to read this or expressed interest: @captainjonnitkessler @formydarlingtoread @cra-zwizard @chasingnightrainbows

[violet-shadows]

Grounded (Part Three)

Masterlist

Summary: Azriel meets a stranger in the library and finds the course of his life forever altered. 

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: graphic description of violence and death, canon typical misogyny and gender-based violence, wing clipping

⊱ —————— ❈ —————— ⊰

Azriel woke early the next morning, flying first to Windhaven, then working north through the smaller camps. Each new group greeted him much the same, with the more experienced warriors making themselves scarce while novices puffed out their chests, making a show of their hubris so that they might be thought of as brave. But one look at his shadows, dark and writhing around his hands, had them shrinking back every time. The camp lords tolerated his presence for the most part, but he was not welcome, nor did he wish to be. 

When he reached his fifth and final camp for the day, he knew immediately that something was different about this settlement. The women and novices were notably absent, with only the warriors coming out to receive him. The camp lord, an older Illyrian with a reputation for traditionalism, seemed especially displeased with his arrival. He allowed Azriel to tour the camp regardless, but the Shadowsinger was acutely aware of several sets of eyes on him as he roamed the grounds. 

Just as he was about to leave, a quiet whistle from a nearby window caught his attention. He moved closer, stepping out of view of the others, and saw a female peaking out of a crack in some shutters. He gave her a pointed look, prompting her to say her piece. “I’m sorry to disturb you, my lord, but this might be my only chance. My niece was taken to Velaris a few years back, she was injured gravely. It’s a slim chance, but perhaps you know if she’s alright. Her name is Y/N.”

Azriel froze, taking a moment to process her words. This was Y/N’s aunt, which meant the males who maimed you were somewhere in this camp. His shadows drew in close, coiling like serpents preparing to strike. “I know her. She’s well,” he told your aunt. He decided the cost of your recovery would be yours to share. “I need you to tell me who her father is, and who helped him clip her.” 

The female's eyes went wide, brimming with tears as she shook her head frantically. “You can’t,” she whispered emphatically, “her father is the camp lord.” Azriel opened his mouth to argue, to tell her he’d burn down all of Illyria before he let that monster walk free, but the sound of approaching footfalls had the Y/N’s aunt hastily closing the shutters. 

A few warriors, including the camp lord’s right hand, rounded the corner. “Done nosing around?” he asked. 

“Actually, I have some business with your lord before I go,” Azriel replied, his siphons blaring bright. The warriors exchanged a suspicious glance but led him to the training rings nonetheless. 

“What do you want?” The camp lord, Y/N’s father, asked, leveling a glare at the Shadowsinger. 

“Rumor has it you’ve been clipping wings,” Azriel called out. 

“Of course not. Wouldn’t dare defy the almighty High Lord,” he spat the title like a slur, sarcasm dripping from his voice. The gathering crowd of males chuckled in response.

“You and I both know that’s bullshit,” Azriel replied, stepping several paces closer. “So, I’ll ask you again, have you been clipping wings?”

“Maybe,” the male replied, drawing a blade from his belt, “And if I am, what business does that half-breed and his dogs have meddling in the natural order of things, anyway?” 

“Wing clipping is punishable by death,” Azriel said, loud enough for the onlookers to hear. A hush had fallen over the gathered crowd, the atmosphere shifting as bloodshed seemed imminent. 

“With proof, it is,” the camp lord spat, “see any proof ‘round here?” 

“Oh, I have proof,” Azriel bared his teeth, a wild glint in his eyes. “I have all the proof I need.” 

The camp lord’s face fell, surprise quickly giving way to anger, “Let me guess, that little bitch daughter of mine went crying to the High Lord.” Any restraint Azriel had hoped to show dissolved at your father's words, and before your father could blink, he was on him. 

He could have driven Truth Teller through his neck right then and there, but such an end felt far too merciful. Instead, he landed blow after blow, utterly satisfied at the sound of bones crunching under his siphon-clad fists. The camp lord bucked, throwing the Shadowsinger off of him as he swiped with his blade, but Azriel could not be deterred, grasping the male by the neck and slamming him back into the earth with a thud. The other warriors knew not to intervene, to do so would undermine their camp lord’s honor, and bring them certain death.

“Is she your whore?” the camp lord spat, blood pouring from his ruined nose, “is that how she got you to come after me?” He lurched forward, but Azriel sidestepped, grabbing his wing in the process. With a roar, the shadowsinger pulled, snapping his wing bones and twisting them until they tore through leathery flesh. The male screamed in agony, stumbling out of the Shadowsinger’s hold.

“Or is it the High Lord she’s fucking? Or maybe it’s all of you, always struck me as the type to open her legs fo—,” Azriel didn’t let him finish, placing a rib-snapping kick to the center of his chest that had his opponent toppling backward. The male rolled, struggling to get his feet under him with one wing now hanging limp at his side, but the Shadowsinger was far beyond the point of showing mercy. He grasped his uninjured wing and yanked it, forcing it backward until he felt tendons and muscles pop and tear beneath his grip. The camp lord screamed again, but all Azriel would think of was you. He reckoned this was still a mercy compared to what you had endured, and he felt no remorse as he pulled the male into a kneeling position by the collar of his leathers.

Azriel drew Truth Teller and turned to address the observing crowd, intent on making his message clear. “The Night Court Law is clear: wing clipping is forbidden without exception. Let it be known that this will be the fate of anyone found to have violated that law.” Azriel turned to the camp lord and leaned down, speaking lowly in his ear. 

“You deserve far more suffering than this plane of existence can offer,” he spat, grabbing the male by the hair to expose his neck. “I can only hope there is more in store for you where you’re headed.” With that, he plunged Truth Teller into the male's neck, severing his windpipe in a single stroke. Death came quickly after that, and after a few choked gurgles, Azriel let him drop, his body falling limp into the blood-soaked mud. 

Silence fell over the observing crowd, and they backed away as Azriel advanced, allowing him to leave uncontested. For a moment, he thought some of the higher ranking warriors might advance on him, but bloodshed was the language of the Illyrians, and Azriel’s message had been clear. He passed your aunt’s house on his way out of the camp and briefly entertained the idea of knocking. Speaking to her now would implicate her, though, and he couldn’t risk her safety. Later, once he spoke to Rhys and came back to finish off the males who helped clip you, he would invite her to come to Velaris permanently. For now, he had to figure out how to explain himself to Rhysand, and how to tell you he had killed your father. 

⊱ —————— ❈ —————— ⊰

Azriel didn’t stop back at Windhaven, flying through the night all the way back to Velaris, utterly exhausted by the time he landed at the House of Wind. It was still early morning, so he was able to avoid Cassian and Nesta, going directly to his room to bathe, cleansing his skin of the blood he had shed. He knew he needed to talk to Rhysand, and then to you, but his body was too weary to do anything but lay in bed after he washed. So, despite the adrenalin still coursing in his veins and the emotions warring within him, he fell into a fitful sleep. 

In his first dream, he was on a beach somewhere, lying in the sand with his wings outstretched, soaking up rays of golden sunlight. In the distance, the cry of gulls could be heard over the rush of the incoming tide. You were next to him, your head resting on his chest as you absently traced patterns into his bare skin. Behind you was a set of Illyrian wings, whole and unscarred, stretched out in the sun like his. Even his shadows were at peace, pooling around the two of you in a blanket of soothing darkness. “I love you,” you murmured, and Azriel smiled, so content at that moment he could have purred like a housecat. 

Then, the dream shifted with a crash of thunder in the distance. Azriel’s eyes flew open and he looked up at the rapidly darkening sky. The sea, calm and bright cerulean only moments before, had turned dark, with white-capped waves now crashing against the shore. ‘Danger’, his shadows hissed, prodding at his shoulders to spur him into action. He looked around the beach, head on a swivel as he searched for the threat he knew was coming. 

“Azriel?” you murmured, this time sounding frightened. He rose up onto his knees, keeping you tucked to his chest as he tried to get his bearings. In the back of his mind, he had a sinking feeling that he was missing something, like a critical piece of information had slipped his mind. “Azriel!” you said again, this time more urgently. 

Finally, he looked down and gasped at what he saw. You were pale and limp, slumped against him with half-lidded eyes. His arms, still wrapped around your torso, were slick with blood. He looked down, searching for the source, and gasped. On the ground lay two Illyrian wings, shorn from their owners back at the base, with jagged white bone protruding from ruined flesh. He turned you gently, bile rising in his throat as his horror mounted, and when he saw your back, he began to scream. 

Your back was flayed open, with two deep lacerations where wings should have connected. Blood flowed freely from the wounds, pouring over his arms in a deadly waterfall. Red-coated stubs an inch or two long jutted out from each side of your spine, left behind when the wing bones were sawed through. Azriel looked up, preparing to call out for help, and found the scene around him had changed. He was no longer kneeling on the bank, but in the mud of a training ring, the one in your home camp. He craned his neck in search of aid, but what he saw made his stomach twist in horror. 

Bodies littered the ground in every direction, filling the training ring in mangled heaps. Each was an Illyrian female, dead, with their wings ripped from their back. Blood pooled on the ground around him, mixing with the mud to create a putrid slop. Azriel looked up, to the edge of the ring, where a familiar male stood watching him. Your father grinned maniacally, a blood-soaked sickle in his hands. A female knelt at his feet, weeping with her head in her hands, and Azriel watched in horror as he grasped one wing and brought the blade down upon it, severing it at the base. “Stop!” Azriel screamed, willing himself to stand and intervene, but it was as though he was shackled in place, unable to do anything but watch as the other wing was severed. Your father cackled as he pulled the female, now limp and lifeless, up by her hair. “No!” Azriel choked, finally seeing her face. Your face.

It was then that he realized he recognized the bodies that were piled around them. They were all wearing the same thing: a white lace blouse and blush-colored skirt, the same as the one you wore to the restaurant. Their hair was the same as well, identical to yours in length and color. He looked at the nearest one, lying on her front in the mud with her head turned towards him. Her face was mottled with the hues of death and her eyes were glazed over, but he recognized her, recognized all of them. They were all parfect copies of you, bloodied and broken beyond repair, piled around him as monuments to his failure. 

He looked down at the version of you in his arms and found you had gone still, the color drained from your face to match the greying complexion of the bodies around you. Azriel sobbed, shaking his head as he rocked your cooling corpse. Beneath you, his shadows were pooled with your blood, as if they, too had been drained of life. “Please, please, please,” he cried out, though he wasn’t sure what he was asking for. For you to wake up? For your forgiveness? For the mother to strike him dead? 

A hand rested on his shoulders and he turned to see a figure looming over him, a sickle identical to the one your father wielded in hand. It took him a moment to recognize the face, for it had been hundreds of years since he last saw it. It was not your father that stood over him, but his own, as stone-faced and cruel as the day he last saw him. “Please,” Azriel whispered, feeling very much like a child again, trapped in infinite darkness and pain. 

His father’s eyes were dead and unfeeling as he raised the sickle, bringing it down on both of Azriel’s wings in one devastating blow. He roared in agony as the appendages were shorn from him, joining yours in the mud. He didn’t let go of your body, falling to the side as he wailed, blood pouring from the wounds on his back. He looked up again, ready to beg his father for a merciful death, but when he looked at the hands holding the blade, he realized they were covered in familiar scars. His eyes lifted, and he stared in abject horror upon his own face, twisted in gleeful malice as he slit his own throat. 

He woke screaming, hurdling from the bed onto the stone floor of his bedroom. His stomach heaved and he emptied it onto the ground, retching until only bile came up. He collapsed onto his side, his entire body shaking and covered in sweat, and he realized his face was slick with tears, still falling freely of their own volition. He lay there for some time, waiting for his breath to even out as he came back to realize. “Just a dream,” he whispered to himself, “not real.”

Even after he’d cleaned up his sick and washed the sweat from his skin, the relief that usually came after one woke from a nightmare evaded him. Azriel had his fair share of bad dreams in his life, but none that came close to this one. The vision of you in his arms, cold and lifeless with your wings shorn from your body, came to him with every blink, as though seared into the back of his eyelids. His wings ached, and if he focused on them too much he could swear he felt the phantom pain of a blade driving through bone. He did not try to go back to sleep, preferring exhaustion to the horrors that might await him in his dreams. Instead, he decided a visit to his High Lord was in order, both to answer for the killing of your father and to make some demands of his own. 

⊱ —————— ❈ —————— ⊰

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[akalikai]

TMAGP EP 16 REACTION (SPOILERS)

CELIA HOLDING ALICE HOLY SHIT MAN THE SAMALICELIA POLYCULE IS GOING SOMEWHERE I also think this might be Celia's instinct to comfort from being a mother maybe??? BUT ALICELIA FEELS. My God their ship name could be a palindrome. Insane.

DEAR LORD DID ALICE SEE HER PARENTS DIE???? MY POOR GIRL.

Tape recorder is gone??? And yeah I suspected that the woman had been dead the whole time. Something was using her as a mouth piece, maybe something relates to ep 11 with the deep??

I think Celia and Sam saying they believe Alice is gonna bring them closer. I know people are sus of Celia so it could be a ploy to get closer to the OIAR employees, but I don't know, with her disliking Lady Mowbray, I'm more inclined to trust her.

The fact that Alice says "paid my horror dues" makes me think she knows more about said horrors and is working at the OIAR specifically to avoid it. Were her parents killed by The Horror?

"I think there's plenty of it go around at the moment" Yeah she's talking about Lady Mowbray. Seriously, I have respect for Celia, she really stood her ground last episode.

Man the fact that we were like "omg what if Alice's phone call ends up being a statement!!" In a serious way meanwhile Alice is like "yeah no Freddie will probably spit out in a few days so nothing to be concerned about". What if. Tho. Gwen ends up hearing the phone call. That would be interesting. Speaking of, where is our corporate girlfailure.

Sam you awkward little bean I love you. I'm sure Celia and Alice just gave him the fondest, "You're such a dumbass" look.

SOCIAL MEDIA INFLUENCER TIME????

OH NO. OH NO FUCK AM I GOING TO FALL IN LOVE WITH INK5OUL. THEIR VOICE.

I'm sorry I now understand what Alex meant when he said this episode was social-cringe-horror. The misuse of AAVE is actually so accurate please help my I'm on the floor screaming this should not be this funny-

Damn so does Ink5oul tattoo....pain or something? I don't have a tattoo myself (yet. I'm gonna get one. As soon as I stop being squeamish about needles. Oh. Needles.) But I don't think they're meant to hurt THAT much???

...I genuinely SHOULD NOT like Ink5oul this much. Please. You cannot do this to me I cannot have a Michael Part 2.

OH MY GOD ITS A YOUTUBER DRAMA VIDEO IM GOING TO FUCKING DIE I CANNOT BE LAUGHING THIS HARD.

I'm sorry THE SITUATIONSHIP FUCKING SENT ME YOU'RE TELLING ME INK5OUL IS IN A SITUATIONSHIP WITH A GOTH GIRL INFLUENCER PLEASE RUSTY QUILL I NEED TO BE SERIOUS I CANNOT DO THIS.

OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD I CANNOT DO THIS I HAVE PAUSED 7 TIMES NOW JUST BECAUSE I WAS LAUGHING TOO HARD TO KEEP HEARING. INK5OUL IS HOT AND A GOTH CONFIRMED.

Shut up. SHUT UP. NOT FUCKING DIG. ARE YOU SERIOUS. NO WAY.

Also let me add all the video sound effects are taking me out I LITERALLY cannot do this PLEASE-

OH MY GOD. WAIT. IS THIS WHEN INK5OUL WAS LOOKING FOR THE BODY WITH THE TATTOO FROM EP 11. HOLY SHIT.

"Hell no i ain't gonna call it in" girl by making the video you are basically calling it in what the fuck

THE YOUTUBER DRAMA IS TAKING ME OUT PLEASE THIS IS SOME NICOCADO AVODACO VS STEPHANIE SOO TYPE SHIT (Stephanie Soo all the way honeyyyy).

So...Does Ink5oul have the ability to make people feel pain through the tattoos they do? It's seeming like that's the case.

"The views are cutting me" HUH???? THATS. LIKE. THE EDGES ARE CUTTING ME??? WHAT IS HAPPENING??? HELLO?????

IS SHE DYING. THATS HORRIBLE RN WHAT THE FUCK ALICE LITERALLY JUST SAW SOMEONE DIE NOW SHE HAS TO HEAR SOMEONE ELSE DIE????

Okay wait now that Sam has let go of his "be professional" bullshit I'm back on his track SAMALICELIA LETS GOOO

THERE SHE IS THE CORPORATE GIRLFAILURE

Ohhhh Lena. Oh boy. I can understand her tbh, Gwen has no idea what's happening and she's just doing her own thing. Whether she's evil or not, Lena still knows better what's going on and can avoid unnecessary risks. Especially since Lena does seem to care if other employees get hurt.

I SEE HOW IT IS GWEN. SO YOU'LL BE HORRIFIED BY MR. BONZO BUT NOT OF THE CANNIBALISTIC HUNTING WOMAN BECAUSE SHES A LADY OF THE ARISTOCRACY. CLASSISM AT ITS FINEST. I HATE MR. BONZO BUT AT LEAST HES A WORKING CLASS...CLOWN MONSTER THING.

Okay so the Externals are like. A Thing here. Kind of like avatars? I'm not saying in the sense of fears, I mean they're beings that are not human anymore and possibly dangerous.

Wait but I understand Gwen though "You can't take this away just because I did something you never bothered to tell me not to do" this happens to me so much Gwen my babygirl you are So Autistic.

I saw someone say that Gwen needs to be dommed. I cannot say I disagree, especially when Lena tells her to sit down. Anyway we're gonna move away from that thought.

I am not joking. I paused a total of 17 times throughout this episode because I started laughing too hard. I think I have a new favorite episode.

[seeingteacupsindragons]

Perhaps some of you remember that time I wrote up an entire essay for the TVTropes forums to get William cemented as a Magnificent Bastard because you literally have to get fictional characters vetted by people who care an absurd amount about this to add them to the trope page.

I am now back on my bullshit, and just got Albert confirmed (Louis is in the works, but the voting looks good for him so far). I did his write up today and it should be up later this week? I enjoy the short version as well.

And now:

The Work

Moriarty the Patriot is a (very loose) retelling of the Sherlock Holmes stories combined with James Bond set in the late 1800s, focused on Professor James Moriarty and exploring his motivations.

The Character

This post is to open a discussion specifically on Albert James Moriarty, older brother of Professor Moriarty (who we already confirmed) and one the Professor's Co-Dragons. Albert is the original "Moriarty" family member biologically who took the other two in as children, and is the leader of MI6 for most of the series.

Why Is He a Bastard

I mean, he kills his own younger biological brother and his mother by hand and then arranged for the entire rest of his family and servants to die in their sleep in a fire. So like. Is that enough?

He also took two orphan kids in, then basically said, "Hey, in exchange for getting your little brother heart surgery he needed to live, help me murder like so many people. Kthx."

He tends to come off colder than either of his brothers, which is sort of impressive since they're all murderers.

I like Albert, but he's certainly a bastard.

But Not That Bad?

Much like his brothers, Albert is trying in a very fucked up way to improve society by murdering people he thinks are making society worse. He is...trying to help in a Pay Evil unto Evil sort of way.

Honestly, Albert is the Moriarty brother who gets the least amount of sympathy from fans, although this shifted a fair amount after it was revealed he has severely untreated OCD, which is a massive contributing factor to his need to eliminate the hypocrisies of all these abusive nobles who keep going to Christian churches. But it's not like most people with OCD are murderers, so there's a limit to how far this Freudian Excuse is going to take him.

Is He Charming/Magnificent

Albert is, according to an official Japanese fan poll, the second most popular character in the series (second to the protagonist of the series, who won by a landslide). This seems to track from the interactions I've had with people. So people are charmed by him.

Albert is also in the series pretty much assigned to "socialization" on behalf of everyone else. He doesn't seem to really like it very much, but he gets along with people rather well. According to his official character profile, he's still getting asked out and courted even after losing his title and going to prison for the murders, so apparently people are really into him.

He also has a similar flair for the dramatic to his younger brother. This is absolutely a man who is going to revel in elaborate schemes and acting a part. While he often asks his brother to arrange details and plans, he always shows up to convince people that he's just so worried about his kidnapped brother, please help him, and oh, gasp, people have died, how tragic.

But Is He Brilliant?

This, I think, is a key factor in Albert's case here: Most of William's subordinates are very subordinate to him. It's made clear that William expects all of his crew to be able to think and plan for themselves and make their own decisions, but the series doesn't always take time to show that off for everyone. Albert does get that time.

Albert often sees opportunities before he engages William for a plan to make it work. Manipulating Mycroft Holmes into getting MI6 created so he could lead it was Albert's idea, and he executed the plan (and he leads MI6 when it's not doing Lord of Crime business), even if William came up with many of the details to help him out. Albert is the one who sees the potential in Adam Whitley and brings the topic up to William.

Also, Albert was the first person to bring William's dreams of killing nobles and creating a brighter world into fruition and set it into a tangible, real path. He and William are frequently tagged as the only two who originated the entire plan.

Albert is a brilliant opportunist and an excellent man to have making sure everything goes off without a hitch, even if the details of getting things done aren't really his forte.

He's brilliant.

What About His Competition?

Most of the nemeses in the series are focused on William, and Albert is his subordinate. Basically none of Sherlock or Milverton's attention ever splashes Albert's way. The person he really engages with in a competitive dance with is...Mycroft Holmes. And while Albert doesn't exactly win, neither does he lose to Mycroft. They come to a couple of agreements and passes to work together and watch to make sure the other isn't getting in their way.

Verdict:

Yes.

[sunnychuuya]

Time for my now nightly sally face vomit the one thing I dislike about this game so far is its lack of a save button

GUYS WHAT THE FLIP THIS IS SO FSR BACK ITS JUST AFTER I GOT THE CROWBAR WHAT

TIME TO SPEEDRUNNN

-6 minutes 34.94 seconds to get back to chapter five okay time to look up a tutorial..

-what the fuck. It was t h a t e a s y?? IT CAN BE COMPLETED IN LESS THAN 15 SECONDS?! IM ENDING IT ALL WTH

-didn't mention this before but I love the detail of the gear boy screen being scratched

-this is definitely foreshadowing

Hey guys look how much more coherent I am when I have the light off and am not on a fucking terrifying part

-well thats..creepy.

-WHY DOES THE DUDE IN CHAPTWR 7 MOCW SO SPEEDY I CANT XONTROL HIM

-Holt ahit the whole screen going black scared me so bad

-OB THATS A CORPSW

TGATS A FUCKING CORPSE

THAT IS A DEAD MAN

OH LORD

-WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHY DID HE PEEL OPEN LIKE A BANANA THIS RED EYED DEMON EBETTER GET THE FUCK AWAY BEGONE HOE

-yea guys maybe yall should fucking move cuz that shit is terrifying leave before you all fucking die

-NOOO

LaRYS CRHING

BABY NOOOOO

-Ok I mean like it does sound like bullshit so u can't rlly blame him for not believing sal..

-fuck wait if the tree house has proof what traumatizing shit happens there later why can't a tree house ever just be silly

-the apartments were abandoned huh..

-why am I playing as m a n

Agreed

I mean I don't rlly know what sal did except kill someone but all the fanarts I see of him post killing someone say "I had no choice" in the background and he doesn't seem like the dude to just go and murder someone

Maybe I just rlly like sal lmao

-LARRY FUCKING DIED?!

GUYS WHAT

I SAID HE WAS THE ONE FUCKING CHARCAYER WHO COUDLTNEE DIE

NO

NO

WHAT

WHY

WHY

THIS IS CRUEL

FUCK THIS GAME

No

DELETING RN

WHAT THE FYCK

-Why did Enon just die wth

-seeing a ghost take the form of Larry made me scream like not even joking I'm bawling my eyes out whay the fuck

-wait pookies this hopefully is not true and I don't see any reason in why it would be true of it is true I'm gonna find the nearest cliff but like sal murders someone and laryr is dead ...

....

No right that's not right it can't be they're bestie bros

Also it wouldn't make sense cuz Larry's tryna help sal

BUT HOW THE FUCK DID HE DIE THEN? one of my friends is being sus about it

-

I know I haven't met Travis but I've developed an attachment to him bc of the fan content I've seen

-WHY DID ENON FUCKING DIE

Thats low-key sus

Thats really sus actuslly

Right as Enon is like finding out about smth he dies

Hmmm

-"white room eht ni em dnif. Ouy dlot I tahw tegrof t'nod" thanks I understand that

OHCEAIT ITS BACKWARDS

Dont forget what I told you. Find me in the white room.

HUH ??

GUYS am I forgetting smth or is this sposed to be mysterious

Omori ass shit

-oh it's the ghosty thing

-am I stupid I csnt even kinds decipher what should be in the blanks half the time

Bad example. But sad!

Okay but run only has three letters what

OH IS IT AN ! ?

Yes I'm smart

OH FUCK

that scared me so fucking bad my vision low-key blacked out for a second I'm in the dark again lmao

-SAL NO?? FUCKING GET A LAWYER DIPSHIT??

-sal I love you but for the love of God (okay thst might not be a great thing to say from the foreshadowing we've been getting lol) fucking at least try to win the case

-WHAT NO FUCKING DEFENS UR SELF DONT JUST SAY "I wouldn't be surprised" UGH

-oh someone told me j would be scared of bologna bc of this game

-"ugh" dude pls

Yoo I'm finally gonna get rhe lore..

Im scared!

-Mr dood El is so real

-SHUT UP THIS IS SO COOL AND CREATIVD

-THIS GAME IS AMAZING!!

-"Hello are you okay" *demonic garbling* fucking mood

-"now please leave us alone your head will frighten the children" LMAOKK

-okay so the truth stuff is sus obviously

-y aren't circle heads normal :(

-"Hello are yiu the great beast" "well, fuck you too friend." Teehee

-ik this is prolly gonna be some like deep foreshadowing but it's just this is so cool and funny?

-on the side of the fortune teller it looks like it says gae instead of green

-WHY WAS THAT PART UNIRONICALLY SO GOOD

-makes me kinda scared for late game tho!

-math class sleep >> all other sleep

LETS FUCKING GO GUYS LETS FUCKING GO ITS TRVAIS YES STUPID UGLY BOY IVE BEEN WAITING

-"nobody likes a cliche bully traaavis" SAL ILY SM

-"yk if you took that stick out of ur ass you may actually enjoy yourself for once." DAMNNNN

-travis you hoe ��

Bro ik this is like sposed to be serious but why was the panel kf travis punching sal so fucking funny to me

-but like sal ik you don't know but maybe don't talk about travis dad

-ASH DONT KUST FUCKING TAKE OFF THE PROSTETHIC IN THE MIDDLE OF A FUCKING HALLWAY WITHOUT EVEN ASKING ??

Like j appreciate u trying to help but not the best move-

-larry.. how good.. to see you.. alive.. *sobbing*

-ash the ghosts are fucjing real stfu

-yea sal his dad is shit but like it doesn't rlly excuse it all idk

-mk yup there's smth up with the bologna

I hate that word it's not even close to how it's pronounced

-wtf is the hot dog incident???

Made with dog??

-"You're lucky it's bologna day" that is such a fucking sentence 💀

-"i don't know if this town has room for another conspiracy theory" there's prolly gonna be like 17 more this game

-I got a paperclip! And then I look at it and it says "I can use this paper clip to get into my friends lockers" lmal

-WHAT THE FUCK NO SAL UR SO WEONG PHYSICS IS THE WORSE?! ITS THE ONLT SCIENCE CLASS IVE EVER TAKEN THAT I DISLIKED

-oh yea how old r they rn r they still freshman ? Assuming so

-sal is so short god

-this is completely unrelated to sallt face but chat my leg is bleeding and it reallt burns uhh ow

It might be bc there's alcohol marjer in it but that's from a day ago so idk

-THWRWS CANONICAL GAY

OMFG

LETS GO

i mean ik sla is canonically bi but when there's a gay relationship in canon it's so happy okay

wait through the past two years

What is their age in ep 3

Like someone pls answer this

-wait

Im trying to figure it out

They said if they killed Travis they'd have to deal with him for two years

Indicating two years of hs left

Okay

Ig thar makes sense

Im a liar I don't understand

-i wish u could runnnnnnn ahhhhhh

-"you butt nozzle" wtf does this mean

-actusllt maybe I shouldn't say I wish u could run bc the thing that happened earlier.. haha..

-yall that's sus why r there so many missing posters

-where am I sposed to be going ahh

-the textbook in Larry's locker is labeled "generic textbook" lmao

-mmm that's sus home made by a teacher.. nah..

-?? Travis is gone

-THE NOTE?? OKAY I HEARS TRAVIS HAD LEFT A NOTE IN THE BATHROOM BUT LIKE I DIDNT KNK THE CONTENTS

OwwWW

THAT HURTS MY HEART :<

-BE GAY MY SILLY BOY KILL UR DAD !!

-bruh gods whole thing is loving everyone stop being homophobuc

-"yk we aren't all actually gay, right? I mean besides forTodd. Todd is super gay." Good for Todd

-okay I have to go through all the dialog options

-"says the boy who hides behind a mask! Get lost, you mutant!" OUCHIE :<

-can I murder kenneth.. he shot sal and his mom.. and is la shitty dad to travis.. :/

..!

-HE SAID SORRGY

-empty envelope..

Could

The note be from there

Hemmmmmmmmmmmm

-HES TEYING TO BE NICER WTH

-WAIT FUCK

THAT MEANS I DONT GET TO EXPERIENCE SOME OF THE DIOLAOGUES

FUCKING SHIT BALLS

-MRS PACKERTON LIVES IN THE APARTMENTS

WE KNOW WHO LVIES IN MOST IF NOR ALL OF THEM

EXCEPT FOR 201

QHICH HAS HAD SUSPICIOUS NOISES SINCE EPISODE ONE

SUSSSS

-i hate puzzles how am I sposed to know what the lock is

-NEVERMIND GOT IT IN LESS THAN 2 MINUTES IM FUCKING GOD

-sally has mental I'll

-me when uiuruy.rhoheitnruy.a,drwitoflsuynbusmo

-okay guys wrf was that cuz they're acting like it's a reoccurring thing

-ik is not that but dehydration rlly is a bitch

-im so on edge like it went into the bathroom and we saw gizmo qnd it had a record scratch sound and I jumped

-wow our dad actually says he'll do smrh with us soon.. shocker 😐

-oh ow that's sad but sals dad u bitch u fuckin got rid of photos of sals mom??? I like get ur also affected but be a better dad jeez

-welcom to windom guys

-time to try to geuss the password

-I DID IT IM FUCKINT AMAZING

GUYS WHY DID IT BREK

HES GONNA KILL ME SHIT

-y r there empty letters randomly appearing eith my name that's sus!!

-Robert slays

-yo we can enter 403 now shouldn't they have fixed the doorframe by now tho lmao

-whyis she talking out her neck god I'm gonna vomit the sound effects are Not Neesxcaru

-I feel like that red eyed demon ain't really gone.

-it's 1:06 am have mercy on my orbs pls

-these letters r confusing

-samn what r Todd's parents on 💀

-did sal jusr say "good lord" beuh

-im scared.

-theres a lock on the freezer fuck fuck fuck

-okay. Ifs creepy, but at least it'd just a goat head. Could be worse. Could be human

Waych me end up regretting these words..

-she has a weird obsession with pi huh

-greem stuff in the tub

-whay am I sposed to do while waiting 4 Larry

-GUYS IM NOT GONNA FUCKING BE STUCK AGAIN

IVE SEARCHED THE WHOLE PLACE WITJ THE GEAR BOY SND CLICKED ON EVERY INTERACTIVE THING

RAGHHN

I feel like there's a possibility the thing we found in her desk could be used to open the door but it'd not letting me

-clock puzzle..

-I did it

WHAT THE FUCK

-GUYS WHAT THE HELL

-yall I just killed a dude don't feel great about that haha...

-FYCK SHES BACK FUCKR FUSJDK

-"if we don't make it out alive.. I.. I love you dude"

-THE THE THE THE WAY THE WAY THE WAY ME WHEN THE WAY SAL IS HOLDING HIS PIGTALS

-it's just ash fuckign great what the hell

-"damn." Valid reaction ngl like what r u sposed to say to thar

-OH MY DUCKING GOD ARE THE MISSING POSTETS PEOPLE SHES MADE INTO BOLGIANEN

ANITHER FUCKIJG LOCK IN NOTNINCTHE MENTAL STATE FOR THIS RN

-this isn't very girlypop core

-ngl just googled the lock combo bc I'm uncomfy rn and don't feel like puzzles

-OH THATS A SHIT TON OF HUMAN CORPSES

WHY

Why

WAS THIS NECCASARU

-YEA LARRY I DONT BLAME YOU FOR THROWING UP I AM REALLT NEAR THERE MYSELF AND IM JUST SEEING IT THROUGH A SCREEN

-GUYS FUCKIJG MOVE OUT OF THESE APARTMENTS

-SAL IM FINE IF YOU STOP TELLING IT THERE OKAY OKAY CAN WE FUCKING NOT

DOES THIS MEAN LIKE EVERYONE AT THEIR SCHOOL EXCEPT I think her name was Megan IS A FUCKING CANNIBAL

IM SCARED GUYS

WHY IS TODD IN THE HOSPITAL

I MEAN IG AT LEAST HES ALIVE ??

-please don't go down the trash chute.

-welp she's dead okay Larry let's go!

Please.

-SAL FUCKING DONT ILL

FUCK NO

-IDK IFNIM SPOSED TO BE EABLE TO DECIPHER THESE MESAGES

-ripped carpet

-DONT FUCKING GO IN THERE

-wtf

-WHAT THE HELLLL

WHAT THE GENUINE FUCK DOODLES

-"whelp this looks bad" I love Larry

OH MY GOD TODD IM AN ARCHITECHTURE NERD TOO BUT PLEASE THSTS NOT IMPORTANT RN

-SHUT UP THIS IS DROM THE GEAR BOY GAME WITH WITH THE DEVOTEURDS OF GOD SHIT RAGHH

-THW RED EYED DEMON ISNT DEAD OKAY

-"it's a good thing thr cult isn't around anymore.. the demon too" YA JUST FUCKIN JINXED IT THEYRE GONNA KILL YA SAL

-qere gonna die were gonna die were all gonna die oh god oh fuck

-DONT SPLIT UP ARE YOU DUMB?!

-why do these things always happen to me?" Idk why I thought if schooby doo

-IM LARRGY OMG

Wait he doesn't die here does he.

-great gonna be here for 7 hours

-no im not looking up a tutorial Ur looking up a tutorial

-

Me when

I made itty

Qalk around in circles and you'll figure it out cool

-YOO IM SAL AHAIN

ANOTHET FCCKING PUZZLE KYS

-yipee I have to have a tutorial for sal too. End me.

-gwuss who's bleeding again! Different spot this time closer to my ankle

-following a tutorial

-does exactly what it says

-doesn't work

-runs around in rage and despair

-it fucking worked

Making a second part to this cuz my phones trying to die ill rb when thr other is finish

@mypinterestgotbannedsoimherenow

[bardicbeetle]

spirit received - vee the vampire

“Could I possibly have my rib back?” What a ridiculous statement that is. But he really would appreciate having it returned. “Also—would you mind telling me how many days it’s been? It’s dreadfully hard to keep count when you're the only thing breaking the endless solitude.” He’s tired and dizzy, it’s been days again, he’s hungry, Rin has no blood with them.

“Hold your damn tongue, Callisto.”

“Was that really my name?” He asks, “I don’t think it’s mine anymore.”

“It’s not,” Rin agrees “but I dislike the Bishop’s plan, so I will continue to use it until forced otherwise.”

Oh?

Vee leans forward, shoulders protesting minutely at the change in angle, his wrists still chained to the far wall. He feels one joint threatening to pop if he pushes too far. He won’t.

“Plan?” He’s unable to stop the spark of curiosity at Rin’s words, much as he usually attempts to feign disinterest.

Rin looks to the door, pulling the heavy stone nearly closed before returning their attention to him. “I cannot get your rib back—not at present. It…” they look intensely frustrated by something, “Currently it’s considered a holy object.”

Vee’s eyes go wide, he laughs, it echoes across the stone in a way that makes his ears ring.

“Silence!” Rin hisses, “The plan is to proclaim you the return of Adam, that you were spared from the beast only by divine right—that you will be the fiery sword leading us into a new garden. Eden reborn.”

“You think it’s bullshit.” Vee says, he doesn’t need to hear confirmation, her thoughts may as well scream to heaven itself. “It made me the same, I am no more vessel for Adam than for the Lord hirself.”

“I know that, Bishop Enea knows that, he wants a figurehead and an easy Martyr.”

“And what of my rib? Are we expecting a woman to burst fully formed from its ashes?” He cannot keep the sharp edge off his words, it’s a hopeless pursuit, he won’t even bother. “Am I to walk in during mass? Take communion? Will a throat be slit for me in advance or as I am knelt upon the steps? God in heaven—” he laughs again, he cannot help it, it bubbles out of him like panic, every breath he releases brings more. “—where does the sword point, Rin? To those who do not attend? To the hungry masses? The monsters we already seek? To myself? Am I to be the walking end of days? An angel of death set to flesh and blood?”

He falls forward, limp muscle held in place by chain. He hears the sickening pop of his left shoulder vacating its socket. He’s too hungry to care.

@flyingbananasaur / @abalonetea / @meatandboneasmr / @captain-kraken / @revenantlore / @albatris / @excessive-vampires are/ @booptasticbadonkadonk / @indecentpause / @afoolandathief

[x-heesy]

Our whole system is very very wrong 😑

Europe is lost, America lost, London lost

Still we are clamouring victory

All that is meaningless rules

We have learned nothing from history

The people are dead in their lifetimes

Dazed in the shine of the streets

But look how the traffic's still moving

System's too slick to stop working

Business is good, and there's bands every night in the pubs

And there's two for one drinks in the clubs

And we scrubbed up well

Washed off the work and the stress

And now all we want's some excess

Better yet, a night to remember that we'll soon forget

All of the blood that was bled for these cities to grow

All of the bodies that fell

The roots that were dug from the earth

So these games could be played

I see it tonight in the stains on my hands

The buildings are screaming

I can't ask for help though, nobody knows me

Hostile, worried, lonely

We move in our packs and these are the rights we were born to

Working and working so we can be all that we want

Then dancing the drudgery off

But even the drugs have got boring

Well, sex is still good when you get it

To sleep, to dream, to keep the dream in reach

To each a dream, don't weep, don't scream

Just keep it in, keep sleeping in

What am I gonna do to wake up?

I feel the cost of it pushing my body

Like I push my hands into pockets

And softly I walk and I see it, this is all we deserve

The wrongs of our past have resurfaced

Despite all we did to vanquish the traces

My very language is tainted

With all that we stole to replace it with this

I am quiet

Feeling the onset of riot

Riots are tiny, though

Systems are huge

Traffic keeps moving, proving there's nothing to do

'Cause it's big business, baby, and its smile is hideous

Top down violence, and structural viciousness

Your kids are dosed up on medical sedatives

But don't worry 'bout that, man, worry 'bout terrorists

The water level's rising! The water level's rising!

The animals, the elephants, the polarbears are dying!

Stop crying, start buying, but what about the oil spill?

Shh, no one likes a party pooping spoil sport

Massacres, massacres, massacres, new shoes

Ghettoised children murdered in broad daylight

By those employed to protect them

Live porn streamed to your pre-teens' bedrooms

Glass ceiling, no headroom

Half a generation live beneath the breadline

Oh, but it's happy hour on the high street

Friday night at last lads, my treat!

All went fine 'til that kid got glassed in the last bar

Place went nuts, you can ask our Lou

It was madness, road ran red, pure claret

And about them immigrants? I can't stand them

Mostly, I mind my own business

They're only coming over here to get rich, it's a sickness

England! England! Patriotism!

And you wonder why kids want to die for religion?

It goes work all your life for a pittance

Maybe you'll make it to manager, pray for a raise

Cross the beige days off on your beach babe calendar

The anarchists are desperate for something to smash

Scandalous pictures of fashionable rappers

In glamourous magazines, who's dating who?

Politico cash in an envelope

Caught sniffing lines off a prostitutes prosthetic tits

Now it's back to the House of Lords with slapped wrists

They abduct kids who fuck the heads of dead pigs

But him in a hoodie with a couple of spliffs

Jail him, he's the criminal

Jail him, he's the criminal

It's the bored-of-it-all generation

The product of product placement and manipulation

Shoot 'em up, brutal, duty of care

Come on, new shoes, beautiful hair, bullshit

Saccharine ballads and selfies and selfies and selfies

And here's me outside the palace of me

Construct a self and psyhcosis

Meanwhile the people were dead in their droves

And no, nobody noticed, well, some of them noticed

You could tell by the emoji they posted

Sleep like a gloved hand covers our eyes

The lights are so nice and bright and let's dream

But some of us are stuck like stones in a slipstream

What am I gonna do to wake up?

We are lost, we are lost, we are lost

And still nothing will stop, nothing pauses

We have ambitions and friendships and our courtships to think of

Divorces to drink off the thought of

The money, the money, the oil

The planet is shaking and spoiled

And life is a plaything

A garment to soil

The toil, the toil

I can't see an ending at all

Only the end

How is this something to cherish?

When the tribesmen are dead in their deserts

To make room for alien structures

Develop, develop

And kill what you find if it threatens you

No trace of love in the hunt for the bigger buck

Here in the land where nobody gives a fuck

Europe Is Lost by Kae Tempest

[panderghast]

I have maybe a pinch of hope left...

Cause like, I have sooooo much to give. And it seems like everyone wants a piece of it, but nobody wants to give anything back. They want me to be dirty, as long as I can wash myself clean again of course (my goodness). They love how quirky I am! Until I need to tone it down, oh my gosh it's mortifying. Why would I wear that in public, say that out loud? I'm going to walk away from you if you do that, I swear to god don't embarrass me. I have strong values and morals; unless we disagree. Then I become stubborn and unpleasant while I defend my opinion and you drown out my voice with your cynicism and ego. I can't even talk about what's bothering me, it's a personal attack on them exclusively. Lord have mercy it is actually about them, because suddenly they do nothing right and nothing is ever good enough for me and they just can't lose me, they can't!

Honestly, I'm also tired of playing into the thought of basic decency being my reward? I'm not your good girl. I'm not a dog. You aren't a dom, and I'm not a sub. I don't owe you that privilege just because you saw me naked and you put your hand on my throat while you fucked me. You don't know the first thing about BDSM, and you can't even tell me the definition of a kink. So why do you think this is a turn based game instead of a bonding exercise around consent? Don't touch me.

The thing is, I want to let someone in. I want to express deep and passionate love. But I am constantly misguided. I am lead to believe these men tell the truth, and then once I get comfortable in their embrace and I feel safe they constrict me like a snake until I stop breathing. My heart is treated like a possession, not a delicate gift. I'm a conquest in some sick subjugation, not a prize to be displayed and discussed and proud of. I'm a very fun toy to have, but I'm like a sports car - but they can't use me everyday, that's why they have their family car and I'm in the garage; they can only take my out when its convenient or they're feeling nostalgic or frisky. All I was asking for is maybe some recognition? A little appreciation, some attention? Maybe give me half as much thought as you did to your Baldur's Gate 3 character. Or, I suddenly turn into their mother and I get to experience all the Freudian bullshit that they packed in their bags and dragged around with them from house to house. I must be able to teach them all the things their lacking, right? I mean, after all I'm raising 4 kids successfully on my own and maintaining a house and budget without help and I do all these wonderful things like cook and clean and make art and I can still love so freely. Wow! I'm a goddess. I'm so special, unique, incredible, astounding...So, that's something that I can share obviously. It must be a secret, a technique I've perfected through all the trauma and opportunities life has given me. If I could only support them a bit...emotionally, spiritually, financially, sexually, physically, mentally...teach them how to take care of themselves since they never bothered to learn. Then I could make them a good partner. For me, of course! ...But I have to make sure I share their interests because mine are a bit boring, they don't get it it's too much information to follow, this cartoon is kind of childish don't you think, what is this a romance, I don't really understand old horror movies they're so badly made...but hey, have you seen the entire Marvel collection? Don't worry, I'll make sure to ask you questions on everything you do like that coincides with my interests to make sure you're telling the truth. Oh wait, make sure that I don't go out without them too much, they'll feel lonely. Why is my phone going off so much? I'm so paranoid about shutting my laptop when I'm done, omg can I stop doing that why don't I leave it open. Hey, they're out of body wash and shampoo btw. Ah, shoot, can I help them clean up because they're just so tired. Can I cover this bill, order this food, get these drinks cause they ran out of money? We haven't gone out in a while...oh it's because I'm not paying or planning for it anymore and the last time you did anything was March? What the fuck do you mean you don't vote? What the fuck do you mean you think feminists are annoying? What the fuck do you mean I emasculate you, I wasn't even talking to you, I was talking to my son about doing his homework or else he would end up living in his friends apartment sleeping on a mattress on the floor with no sheets and his winter coat on cause they couldn't afford the gas bill working a dead end job at a fast food place cause he has no skills...but if the fucking shoe fits, my guy. 🙄

[quietwingsinthesky]

it’s fine though im gonna just write all my thoughts. here. as they happen. in real time. enjoy o7

- makes out with a woman. immediately stops and starts talking about the master getting inside his body. he’s so fucking funny.

- all this fucking exposition alsjfksjkafjkgjd

- succ the planet

- ABANDONED MY CAT OUT IN THE COLD ALONE!!!!!!!!!! HE JUST WANTS YOUR HELP TO FIND AN…. atomic clock. GRACE!!!!!!!!!!!

- GOD I THOUGHT THE MASTER SAID “before he finds a cock”

- LITERALLY CAT BEHAVIOR. LET HIM INNNNNN.

- grace <3 grace! grace :3 graceeee!!!!! grace :D grace :(

- i dont have to say anything here

- WAIT NO HE DOESNT EVEN RECOGNIZE HIM. DOCTOR YOU ARE SO STUPID. NEVER KNOWS HIS BOYFRIEND.

- “she kiss as good as me?” “as well as you.” i love that the master is a pedantix grammar asshole

- ACID GOOP SPIT????????????????? FROM HIS MOUTH?????????????? hey modern doctor who writers you know what you should bring back-

- “WAIT! STOP. HE’S UHM. HE’S. He’s british?” THIS MOVIE IS SO FUCKING FUNNY ALSJFKSKFHFK

- cop takes the jelly baby. doctor makes kissy noises at him. cop goes :/. doctor threatens to shoot himself. okay <3

- doctor who needs more motorcycle chase scenes

- can i say. btw. i love the master having his own companion kind of here. (also. the “you kill me.” exchange. alsjfjflsjd autistic murder creature.)

- doctor found his atomic cock. i mean clock.

- the half-human thing is so stupid. gog bless.

- he keeps goopin people up

- things the master does in this movie: have sex with the tardis’s keyhole. penetrate a man’s throat. fantasize about getting inside the doctor’s body. says every sentence as seductively as possible. gets his young male sidekick to pull a large phallic object out of a hole. gives people money shots with his goop.

- i love grace. gotta appreciate a girl who’s ready to do insane shit after some guy spits on her.

- mrs tardis…. you’re back. (i did pause the movie to make sure. he says “there she is” <3 his wife) also he just leaves the key??? on the top?????? god no wonder the master can just break in whenever he wants. he absolutely knows where the doctor keeps that key.

- THE GUY ON THE MOTORCYCLE JUST- THIS MOVIE IS SO FUCKING FUNNY

- she’s dying :((((

- OH HE GOTS HER. HE GOTS HER!!!!!!!!!!!! POSSESSED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WHACKED THE DOCTOR OVER THE HEAD WITH A HAMMER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

- OH MY GOD.

- OH MY GOD????????????? HE ALWAYS DRESSES FOR THE OCCASION?????????????????

- the cunt……. the cunt………!!!!

- PUTTING A CROWN OF THORNS ON MR CHRIST FIGURE?????????????????????????????????????? (<- he’s. like. not. but also they did reference it earlier so.)

- i love his stupid robes so much. i want them. whats with that collar. why is gallifreyan fashion so stupid. its fantastic. (mentally putting Even in the stupid gallifreyan collar robes)

- he’s so full of stupid <3 he wasted his fucking lives <3

- NO! LEEEEEEE!!!!!!

- hey why would a piece of gallifreyan technology. im assuming. only work for people who are. not from gallifrey. why would you need a human eye for this. why am i acting like this movie should make sense.

- fellas is it gay to wanna merge mind and body with your oldest enemy and friend.

- he is aLiiiiveeehhhhh :D

- being fed (<- big fan of companions having to figure out the bullshit that is tardis piloting on their own)

- why is the master making whale sounds. why’s he do that. why is he always some sort of creachur. goes rarghhhhh!!!!!

- RETURN OF THE CANONICAL TIME LORD 30 FT VERTICAL LEAP ABILITY

- give me your hand………………………………

- bro they melted him In The Eye

- is he actually jesus though. like is that. im not crazy right. i think they made the doctor into a jesus. they got him. just like superman. no one escapes the jesus.

- “what a sentimental old thing this tardis is” 🥹🥹🥹 yeah. yeah, she is.

- SHE’S DIGESTING HIM????? DIGESTING THE MASTER????????? MASTER GOT VORED BY THE TARDIS NOT CLICKBAIT??????? GONE WRONG GONE SEXUAL??????????????????

- this movie is so fucking funny i know i keep saying that but it really is. sometimes unintentionally but also when it means to as well. silly movie <3

- “come with me 🥺” “you come with me 🤨”

- im not invested in whatever romance they probably want me to be invested in here but i AM invested in the wild brief companionship with a man that ended in a case of mild death that she voluntarily chose to let go of. which is different. and more important.

- i cant believe the master just got fucking vored and thats how he dies. i mean obviously not forever but-

- i had fun :)

[pengychan]

[Baldur’s Gate III] Hell to Pay, Ch. 7

Illustration by @raphaels-little-beast

Title: Hell to Pay Summary: Assassinating an archdevil is a daunting task, even for the heroes of Baldur’s Gate. Some inside help from ‘the devil they know’ would be good, if not for the detail their last meeting ended with said devil dead in his own home. Or did it? Characters: Raphael, the Dark Urge, Astarion, Haarlep, Halsin, Karlach, Wyll. Rating: M Status: In progress

All chapters will be tagged as ‘hell to pay’ on my blog. Also on Ao3.

*** The second half of this chapter was supposed to be about the kind of Bullshit only a party with a rogue and a bard can get into, but then the first half took over. So yeah, Astarion and Raphael will have to wait until the next chapter to get into Bullshit. Until then, have more existential crisis. Crisises. Chrysler. Crises. No I did not have to look up what the plural of crisis is. ***

“You know, I am not entirely sure Raphael was ever informed of the difference between sparring and attempted murder.”

Sitting just inside one of the tents they had set up on the lakeshore to keep away from the sun, Astarion shrugged. “I’m pretty sure that he knows the difference and chooses to ignore it. I do it all the time.”

“You’re remarkably unconcerned.”

“And you’re surprised?” Astarion clicked his tongue. “Wyll, you know as well as I do that my lovely idiot could tear him apart if they wanted. Raphael has literally no chance in all Hells to beat them. Durge is going so easy on him, it’s almost embarrassing.”

“Well,” Halsin intervened, briefly looking up from the duck he was whittling and giving the boiling pot of stew a stir, “they did say that the goal is to make sure he can hold his own before we head to Avernus. I suspect maiming him again would rather slow the progress.”

“Fair enough.”

A pause, and three pairs of eyes - well, two pairs, one single eye, and a sending stone - kept following the sparring match unfolding on a flat, rocky patch of land. It was painfully unbalanced, even with Durge going easy on Raphael. He seemed to know a variety of spells to cast, and his aim was improving, but he tried too hard to land a hit and quickly ran out of steam. 

He makes mistakes when he’s angry, Hope had said, and that had not changed. The limitations of a human body, and a middle-aged one at that, were not helping. Raphael was clearly struggling with that, and he barely dodged an acid splash from Durge’s part that Astarion had seen coming from a mile away, with his eyes shut.

“I wouldn’t have thought he’d be able to fight at all, without his hellish powers,” Wyll commented, looking on through narrowed eyes. “Then again, Mephistopheles is considered the greatest wizard of all the Hells. Perhaps he learned from him.”

“Doubtful,” Halsin replied, scratching his chin. “I am certain you learned a great deal sparring with your father, but the Lord of the Eighth is not known for willingly sharing his knowledge. I doubt he’d make an exception even for his own offspring.”

“He’s a bard,” Astarion said, and shrugged when they turned to look at him. “Oh, I forget you two didn’t get the dubious pleasure to visit the House of Hope with us and Karlach. Trust me, he’s a bard if I’ve ever seen o--”

“Agh!”

Astarion trailed off, and they all looked back to see Raphael had slipped on an icy patch and fallen heavily on his back, groaning. It would have been the perfect moment to strike, but Durge was really holding back, so they allowed him a moment to recover… and then several more moments. But Raphael just lifted himself one knee and paused without getting up, panting. The spectacle was over, it seemed. 

A bit of a shame, that: watching Raphael getting his ass handed to him time and time again was endlessly entertaining.

“That wasn’t too bad,” Durge said, much too generous in Astarion’s opinion, and stepped towards Raphael, lowering their staff. “You keep attacking in anger. That’s never a good ide--”

Raphael looked up sharply, lips curling in a sneer, and Durge didn’t get to finish the sentence. Raphael brought his hands together and, before anyone could react, pushed them out with a snarl. “Detono.”

The thunderwave caught Durge by surprise, and they had no chance to brace or try to avoid it. They were thrown back into the air, Mourning Frost falling from their grasp to clatter on the ground. They landed with a grunt, but there didn’t seem to have been much damage… until a moment later the ground Durge had landed on shimmered. Realization hit Astarion only a moment before fire erupted from the ground, engulfing Durge, and the roar of flames almost covered their startled cry.

Well, look at that. When had he cast a glyph of warding? How had none of them noticed?

“Durge!”

“You bastard--!”

Halsin and Wyll stood, ready to rush forward, not impeded at all by the risk of being turned to cinders by sunlight. They didn’t go far, though: Durge hadn’t been turned to cinders either - of course not, it would take much more than that - and stood, coughing, before lifting a hand. 

“All fine,” they managed, and while it clearly wasn’t all fine, they weren’t too badly injured either. They groaned a little, went to pick up their staff, and turned to grin at Raphael, all fangs. “All right,” they conceded, just as Halsin went to heal them. “That was really good.”

Raphael snorted and stood slowly, carefully moving away from the icy patch on the ground. He cast a healing spell on himself before he replied, still scowling. “Not good enough,” he muttered. He reached to smooth down the blazer Durge had given him, after finding it wedged somewhere in their bag of holding. “Seeing how you got back up.”

“If it makes you feel any better, a god also failed to kill me.”

“The god killed you well enough. Another god made the unfortunate decision to bring you back.”

“You devils and your fixation for details,” Daurge sighed. “Thanks, Halsin - I’m fine, honest. I think that brings an end to this sparring match, though. Is the stew ready? I’m starving.”

Having already feasted on the blood of the boar who had so generously provided the meat for the stew, Astarion did not need to eat. Still, Durge settled right inside the tent with him to eat, while the other two saps sat right outside the entrance. Raphael, as he’d been doing since they’d departed Last Light Inn two nights earlier, took a bowl to his own tent some distance away. At least now it looked like a tent, rather than a sheet thrown haphazardly over some stick by someone who clearly had never set up a tent before.

“I think we should be there in another five days’ walk - I mean, nights’ walk,” Wyll was saying. “I’d hoped to be back quicker than this, but as long as Karlach is safe in the House of Hope, I’m sure she’ll understand. We do need supplies.”

Durge nodded. “Bit of a shame the portals are not working,” they said through a mouthful. “It seems none of those in Baldur’s Gate or even Rivington were left intact. It would have saved us a week. Still, that’s not too long a walk as long as we keep leaving at sundown. As soon as we’ve reached the Gate, we’ll head to the Devil’s Fee. We buy whatever we may need, get Helsik to open a portal to the House of Hope--”

“Do we even have enough money for her to do that again?” Halsin asked.

A pause, and four pairs of hands went to open as many pouches. Several pairs of eyes - three pairs, one eye, one sending stone - had a quick look at the gold inside. Another pause. Four throats were cleared. 

“... In retrospect, I should have asked that earlier.”

“Well, perhaps she’ll accept to let us through in exchange for another artifact…”

“Maybe my father can be convinced to give us a loan…”

“We’ll figure something out when we get there. We usually do.” Astarion put down his pouch before he glanced outside the tent, and the others followed his gaze. Raphael had finished eating, clearly, and was closing the tend flap to sleep without a further word to anybody. 

“... I think it would be best to keep him out of the House of Hope,” Wyll said. “Hope may not be-- I think she’s seen enough of him to last her several lifetimes. Even if he can no longer harm her, I don’t want her to endure his presence again for even a moment.”

Durge nodded, setting down the bowl. “Yes, I agree. She’s been through enough as is.”

“Counterpoint,” Astarion said. “He might have a stroke if he sees the changes she made to the place, which I bet are delightful. And that would be absolutely hilarious.”

Durge laughed. “My counterpoint to your counterpoint is that we need him alive to take us to the Sword of Zariel,” they said, and reached into the bag of holding. They rummaged a bit before pulling out something - the Spider Lyre they had taken from Nere’s body. They’d had no use for it in a long while, but then again they hadn’t had a bard in their party. Until now. “I’ll be right back,” they said, and left the tent to head towards Raphael, lyre in hand. 

“... Projecting more than a little, aren’t they?” Halsin commented, and Astarion sighed. 

“Yes, they seem to have made Raphael their pet project. I can’t say I’m all that surprised. They trusted me when it was an objectively stupid course of action. Mind you, they were severely brain damaged - and I’m not sure all that damage has healed just yet...”

Wyll frowned. “He’s a devil. A split soul doesn’t make him any less of a hellspawn.”

“They’re aware. And I’m sure you can guess what they’d answer to that.”

“Durge is a bhaalspawn no longer,” Wyll replied, and Astarion shook his head.

“... That’s what you two will never get, I’m afraid, but I do. Once a spawn, always a spawn,”  he said, looking on as Durge stopped outside Raphael’s tent and left the lyre by the entrance.

“You’re free, Astarion,” Halsin spoke, his voice gentle. “You’re both free now, and it was a hard-won freedom. What someone else made you into doesn’t define you anymore.”

Ah, Halsin. Spoken like the sweet, sensible tree hugger he was. Astarion smiled faintly. “You’re not wrong, but that’s not what I’m talking about either. You can kill some parts of you, but you don’t get to erase them. You can only grow around it, or die trying.”

A brief silence as they watched Durge turn away from the tent and head back towards them. Behind them, the flap opened just enough for a hand to grab the lyre and take it in.

“Raphael might just choose to die rather than try,” Wyll finally muttered, and Astarion laughed.

“Entirely possible,” he conceded. “And who are we to tell him what to do?”

***

When the Chamberlain of Mephistar came to claim him on Mephistopheles’ behalf, Israfel was thirteen years of age and entirely unprepared. 

Truth be told, over the past couple of years he’d found himself daydreaming of that day less and less. He’d even come to think, at a point, that he may be fine if no one came to take him to the Hells at all, if his father didn’t want him there. Among servants there was talk - in secret, theoretically, but they spoke much too loud - that Lord Rahirek may be considering making Israfel his heir. Until just a few years earlier, that would have been unthinkable. 

“Of course Lord Starspire must have thought of it,” the kennel master had said with a shrug, during a conversation with the master-at-arms. “He’s got no kids of his own. The lad is all that’s left of his lady wife, and he’s a clever one. His lordship would have seen it a lot earlier, if he could stop sniveling over her grave for a minute and look past the horns.”

“He was grieving, you animal.”

“It’s been thirteen years. If the Hells don’t come to take him, and he’s good at whatever it is that lords do, why not make him next in line? He even looks like a human now. His Lordship should claim him as his own and be done with it.”

“It’s not that simple. Would other lords accept it, a half-fiend among their peers?”

“They wouldn't want to piss him off, that’s for sure. A good thing in my books.”

Israfel had snuck away unseen, and hadn’t mentioned the conversation he’d heard to anyone, but it was true that he was in his human form more often than not, and that Rahirek had started teaching him things about the land he lorded over. Not long after that conversation, he even took Israfel with him for a negotiation with the dwarven clans along the eastern peaks of the Starspire mountains, from which his family got its name.

“To show you how it’s done,” was all he had said, and Israfel had needed no convincing. He had never wandered far from the fort, and finding himself so high up had been exhilarating. He could turn his head and see so much, across Firedrake Bay and all the way down the Trade Way far beyond Starspire Fort, and south to Zazesspur where, to hear one of their dwarf guides, people wiped their asses with sheets of gold when they weren’t busy trying to kill each other. Israfel had stopped his mule and reached out; the city looked so small, he could blot it out when he closed his first. For a moment, he’d felt like a giant.

Then there had been the screech, so loud it hurt his ears, and something much bigger than him had swooped down on the caravan. Right afterwards, a man screamed. “Perytons!”

“Form a line! Protect Lord Starspire!”

What happened next would remain confused in Israfel’s memories, only brief flashes of clarity in the midst of chaos. He’d remember the giant eagle with the head of a fanged stag standing on top of a fallen, screaming man, trying to claw his heart out through the armor, threatening to gore anyone who came too close with its antlers. He’d remember a swipe of its wing knocking him off his mule onto the ground, a few feet away from the abyss, and he’d remember hitting his shoulder hard. He’d remember a scream - his name, someone screamed his name - and the beasts’ eyes on him, the fang bared. He’d remember lifting his arms to protect himself, and then…

Then he’d only remember heat, and screeches of pain echoing through the mountains. The peryton tried to take flight only to crash down again, screaming, its plumage on fire. Flames wreathed its antlers like they were dry wood, eyes melted out of its sockets from the heat. There was a rush to get out of the way, lest the beast’s dying throes knocked any of them off the side of the mountain; someone grabbed Israfel, too, pulled him to safety behind a boulder.

After that, he’d remember a furious heartbeat against his cheek, a hand pressing against his head and neck and then down his back, checking for injuries. Dimly, he realized he felt the weight of his horns again. When had he changed form? Had the others seen? 

“Are you all right, boy? Were you hurt?”

Israfel had closed his eyes, listening to the last of the beast’s dying screeches over the man’s thumping heart. He’d willed himself to change back to his human form before he spoke. “No, sir,” he’d managed, and felt Lord Rahirek Starspire let out a long breath. 

“Thank the Gods,” he whispered, and didn't let him go for what felt like a very, very long time. When they’d emerged, the danger gone, their dwarven guides had looked at him warily. 

“‘Twas not normal fire that did the beast in,” one had muttered, looking back and forth between the smoldering corpse to Israfel. “Hellfire, ain’t it? And my old eyes work well enough to tell you got horns on your head a minute ago, lad. Could do with an explanation.”

Israfel had felt Rahirek’s hand on his shoulder. “Be grateful my ward felled the monster. He owes no explanation to you or anyone else,” he’d said, and that had been the end of it. With only two mules dead and one man injured, the journey had continued without further incident.

The travel back had been undisturbed as well. Rahirek had kept Israfel close, pointing at landmarks and cities. “It’s high time you visit the capital,” he had said halfway through their descent, with home within sight. “I’ll take you next spring, if you’re inclined to come with me.”

Israfel had been plenty inclined, but that didn’t matter: it was never to be. They had returned to the fort to a tense silence, pale faces and quiet servants. In the kennels, the dogs were subdued; it had been the master-at-arms to come tell them what was going on, but it was not needed. From the hall, faint but unmistakable, came the smell of sulfur.

“One Duke Barbas is here,” he had managed, unable to meet either of their eyes. Somewhere out of their line of sight, Nan was crying. “To take Israfel home.”

And that, love, was that.

***

“Love, please, give me that knife.”

The woman is crying, but it’s not her tears the boy’s eyes pause on. His gaze is fixed on the blood, red and rich, dripping onto the floorboards from her outstretched hands, cut to the bone from the attempts at stopping the knife. It mixes with the blood of her husband, who’s already dead on the floor and growing colder by the second. 

He called him dad, until now. Until just hours ago, maybe minutes. Or it may have been days, he’s not sure. Time means nothing. Everything went red and then dark and he grabbed the knife, and then all was blood and meat. That’s all the man is now. He’s just meat and it all feels so right. It’s better this way. Better to die than to live in a world with him in it.

“Sweetheart, please. This isn’t you. We can fix this,” the woman calls out again, choking out words. “My little boy, listen to me.” A bloody hand rests on his cheek. She touched his face many, many times before. Sang him to sleep. Soothed him after bad dreams. Mom, he’s called her, ever since he learned to speak. He knows she is not, nor her husband was his father - they’re halflings, he is not - but it never mattered. It still doesn’t matter. 

Nothing matters but the crimson filling the cracks between the floorboards and the smell of death and the fact that she’s wrong. This is him. This was always him.

She wants the knife.

He’ll give her the knife. 

The blade sings through the air, slices through skin and muscle and cartilage like it’s nothing. She chokes on blood and her hands go through her throat, but cannot stem the flow. One last, wide-eyed look, then she falls on her face and doesn’t get up. The boy looks on, quiet, with the crimson hand still smeared on his face. Once the last of her life’s blood has flown, he turns to the door.

He’s not the only child they have taken in. There are others, too, his siblings, who will be home soon. They have names, but it’s not important now. The dead need no names.

He holds onto the knife, and waits.

***

“Hey, hey, hey. Don’t do that, don’t-- yes, that’s better. Breathe, possibly no frost breath if you can help it-- there. Good. You’re fine. Whatever you dreamed up, it’s not now. Do you understand me? Nod if you do. Or bite me, you have permission to bite this once.”

Face pressed against Astarion’s shoulder, Durge let out a long breath and nodded. “Yes,” they rasped. “I’m fine. It was just--”

“Nightmare, or memory?”

“Memory.”

“I see.”

They leaned back against the bedroll, and for a time they only listened to their own breathing, to the drumming of rain against the tent they were sharing. “Want to talk about it?” Astarion finally asked, a hand rubbing the back of their neck. Durge breathed out. 

“It was the family that took me in. In Baldur’s Gate, when I was very young. They loved me. I had forgotten their faces.”

“And now you remembered them? Well, that is nice--”

“I butchered them all.”

“Ah. I do see why that may be an unpleasant recollection, then.”

“I killed my foster parents. I waited for the other children they had taken in to come home and slaughtered them all, put the bodies in a pile and stood there for hours, just - looking at them. I don’t remember what I was thinking. Only that I was… happy. Something had been sated.”

“The Urge.”

“Yes. I think that was the first time it came over me.”

“And now it’s gone. You really shouldn’t forget that bit, love. The Urge is gone, for good.”

Durge nodded, and shut their eyes. In the back of their mind, a voice rang out. 

Young Master, precious fledgling, follow ever your heart. In time, your true family will find you.

“I can’t remember their names,” they murmured in the end.

“It wouldn’t do you any good--”

“I ended the entire family. I owe it to them, don’t I? To at least remember their names.”

“... Remember what Withers said? You can go through all the names once you’re dead. Until then, you can just live.” Astarion pulled back, and spoke again in a very questionable impression of Withers’ voice. “Greet the bloodless dawn, child of none.”

That, at least, made Durge chuckle. “That was terrible,” they said, then, “thank you.”

“Anytime, dear.” His hand rested on Durge’s face, where the woman’s had in the memory. “But do try to sound more impressed by my actorial skills. You hurt all three of my feelings.”

“There’s a third one?”

“Oh look, now you think you’re funny. It worked too well.”

Another chuckle, and Durge nuzzled against his hand briefly before they sat up. “... I’ll go for a walk. Clear my head some. I’ll be back soon.”

“Are you sure? Sounds like it’s pouring.”

“I’ve been covered in worse things than water.”

“You’ve been covered in better things, too.”

“Such as…?”

“Blood.” A pause. “That was probably not the right thing to say given the circumstances. But you know what I mean.”

Durge laughed, and kissed his head. “Yes,” they replied, stepping outside and breathing in the cool air, letting the rain run over their scales. It felt good, as though it was washing something foul away. “I know what you mean.”

***

Raphael woke to the sound of rain, and somebody’s grip on his face.

His eyes snapped open, but at first he saw very little. Until not too long ago, he could see in the dark just as well as he could on a bright day; now, the half-light inside a tent on a rainy day was dim enough to disorient him - but only for a moment. The hand holding his face had scales, and the red eyes looking down at him were awfully familiar. 

“You-- what--” he began, only to trail off when the bhaalspawn tightened their grip on his face, the palm covering his mouth. 

“Ah-ha, let’s not make too much noise.” They leaned in, baring their fangs in a grin, and Raphael froze. There were several responses that crossed his mind - all of them demanding they unhand him immediately, a few with a side serving of a firebolt to the face - but, just awake and disoriented, half trapped under the blankets, he voiced none of them. All that left him was a weak noise at the sudden jolt that went up his spine. The bhaalspawn’s grin turned to confusion for a moment, then amusement. They laughed, pulling away. 

“Well well well, now that reaction was a surprise, my pet.”

Wait. 

“What-- you--!” Raphael scrambled to sit up. Mortification turned to anger as he faced the creature, face burning, teeth clenched. “What manner of joke is this supposed to be!”

A chuckle, and then the being before him shifted, morphed, until Raphael was glaring at his own face as it was… before. Haarlep tilted their head and reached to flick his nose, snatching their hand back before he could slap it away. “And here I thought you couldn't surprise me anymore, little brat. Now, is it me or you’re not especially happy to see me?”

“What are you doing here?”

“Keeping an eye on you, of course. Fun as it was assisting in your escape from Mephistar, surely you didn’t think for a moment I organized the whole thing all by myself, did you? Truth be told, I believed you dead for months until the announcement you’d be devoured in spectacular fashion. Good thing your father seems to enjoy playing with his food almost as much as you do, huh? What a surprise it was. I’d done my mourning and it turns out it wasn’t necessary.”

Raphael scoffed. “Yes, I could feel just how much you mourned,” he snapped, “whoring my body out to anyone who asked.”

“Aaaah, yes. You did feel that, didn’t you?” Haarlep grinned again. “It was my most requested form, and many at court were willing to pay handsomely for it. I’d been released from my oath to you, after all. I’m sure you’ll understand. Did it provide some distraction from your misery?”

Very much unwilling to think back of anything he’d thought or felt while in the bowels of his father’s dungeons, Raphael smacked away the hand that had reached out to brush back his hair. “Don’t you touch me, incubus,” he snapped, “or you’ll find I still have teeth.”

“Ah, I certainly hope you do. You were not rescued out of kindness, you understand.”

Of course not; the notion was too ridiculous for any self-respecting devil to entertain. Something stirred in the back of Raphael’s mind, the memory of someone putting his own frail, aging mortal body between him and a danger, but he was quick to chase it away. That was the kind of sentimentality befitting a mortal, and regardless of his current situation he was no mortal. He had never been. If he still breathed, it was because someone wanted something from him. “Obviously,” he ground out.

“Your savior will expect you to do something in return. Don’t ask what,” Haarlep added the second Raphael opened his mouth. “I couldn’t tell you even if I knew all the details. My lips are sealed - from talking, that is - unless I’m given the direct order to tell you.”

“And who, pray tell, would have to give that order?”

“Your savior, of course.”

“Haarlep.”

A laugh. “Don’t get too cross with me, little brat,” they said. “I quite literally cannot speak the name or even give hints unless allowed. It’s a very stringent oath. You should have thought of doing something like that, come to think of it. Might have kept me from accidentally oversharing your little secrets, although I’m fairly sure it wouldn’t have done much to keep the little mouse and their companions away from the Orphic Hammer.”

“Accidentally,” Raphael snorted, tasting bile in his throat. “You’ve never once passed up a chance to push against my authority.”

“True, I thought it would be hilarious to see your face once you returned to find the hammer gone. I never imagined it would result in your demise. I suppose it’s a good thing for both of us that you’re not one to hold grudges,” they added, like they didn’t know that Raphael could hold grudges as tightly as Asmodeus held onto his throne. 

Raphael glared, teeth clenched so tight his jaw hurt. “I ought to flay you alive.”

“You may try, pet. It wouldn’t be a long fight,” the incubus almost sing-sang. And they were right, of course. A mere human with a few cantrips has no hope to best a devil, let alone unarmed and unarmored. Raphael balled his hands in fists, resisted the temptation to still try wrapping them around Haarlep’s neck - his own neck - and scowled. 

“Am I to believe that whoever it is you obey has no instructions whatsoever for me?” 

“Not quite yet, but soon. For now, the lack of instructions means you’re on the right path, I suppose. Although you’ll need to be extremely cautious, back in the Hells. Mephistopheles will be furious the second he finds out you still live. He hates being fooled about as much as… well, you, or anyone for that matter. He’d stop at nothing to destroy you.”

Of course. Raphael would have expected nothing less. “Duly noted,” he said, coldly, pushing away the dread to focus on what little he knew. Whoever had saved him wanted him to return to the Hells; to what end, he couldn’t imagine. Was it all about killing Zariel? By extension, was this Mizora’s doing? It seemed unlikely. What influence would Mizora have in Cania?

Focused as he was trying to make a somewhat coherent picture out of the scraps of information he’d been handed, he didn’t notice Haarlep reaching out for him until their hand grabbed his chin and lifted his face. Their face-- his face, would it ever be his again?-- peered at him closely, a smile playing on their lips.

“Tell me the truth, sweetling,” they said, running a thumb across Raphael’s own lips. “Have you missed me? Thought of me?”

Raphael scowled, anger roiling in his chest and aching need in the pit of his stomach. It had been half a year without that indulgence, leaning back to feel pleasure and think of nothing anymore. He hated it. He hated Haarlep. He hated how much he needed it. “I thought of many ways I could kill you, if you’re inclined to hear them,” he spat, and Haarlep’s smile widened. 

“Oh, you have missed me,” they crooned, and leaned in to claim his mouth. Raphael gripped the straps of their harness, not quite knowing whether he’d push them back or pull them closer - and then leaned back, taking Haarlep down on him. He felt the incubus smile against his lips, pressing him down on the bedroll. “I missed you, you know,” they whispered. 

Until half a year ago, it was a sentence Raphael may have brushed off with a scoff and hardly a thought. Now it made something ache around the empty nothing where half of his soul had been, and he closed his eyes. “No,” he managed, his voice almost breaking. “You did not.”

Maybe they’re here to take what remains of my soul, he thought. Maybe I should let them. No soul must be better than a maimed one. At least those soulless dolls don’t have any notion of what befell them. What chances do I have to be whole again? I am at the whim of mortals who stabbed me in the back before.

A sigh. “Ah, you think so little of me,” Haarlep lamented, and bit his lower lip, barely a nip. “I have many new bodies for you to sample, if you’re so inclined. You seemed interested in the little mouse’s. Or would you rather have this form again? Your own body, for old times’ sake?”

Trying very hard not to think of the suggestion, Raphael shook his head and tightened his grip on Haarlep’s harness. “This,” he rasped, and Haarlep chuckled. 

“You’re so wonderfully predictable,” they said, parting Raphael’s legs with a knee and kissing his neck, his jaw, so warm against his skin. “Open up for me, pet, and I’ll make it all better.”

Raphael closed his eyes, parted his lips, and for a time he thought of nothing.

***

While Durge hadn’t expected anything to happen at camp while they were away, returning to find no trace of unwelcome visitors - no Mizora showing up in a ring of hellfire waving a contract, no vampire spawn trying to drag Astarion away, no githyanki asking them to help overthrowing a space tyrant or trying really hard to kick their collective asses - was still kind of a relief. 

Rain had stopped falling around the time they had decided to cut the walk short and head back. Evening was fast approaching, and soon enough it would be time to leave. As it turned out, they weren’t the only one awake: the flap of Raphael’s tent was open, and Raphael was crouching at the lakeshore, throwing water over his face and running his hands through his hair as though trying to scrub something away. 

Durge paused, watching, as Raphael sat back on a rock and remained still, wet fingers in his hair, the heels of his hands pressed over his eyes. His shirt was open and rumpled, and he was drawing in long breaths. It looked like he was having-- well, a moment. 

Maybe it would be best to get to their tent unnoticed, but Durge had never been really good at just doing what was best. Instead they stopped by the camp chest, grabbed a bottle of Arabellan Dry, and headed for the lakeshore. Raphael recoiled when they sat next to him, and turned to glare only to be presented with the bottle, cork already off.

“I don’t have a decanter or cups at hand,” Durge said. “You’ll have to drink from the bottle.”

Raphael looked at the label, and sniffed contemptuously. “This should be served at cellar temp--”

“I’ll guzzle it all down myself here and now if you finish that sentence.”

“Hmph.”  The bottle was snatched from their hand, and Raphael took a long swig. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand - not at all, Durge thought, something he ever pictured him doing - and said nothing, looking pointedly away from them at a mountain range in the distance. There was a brief silence.

“Was the lyre to your liking?” Durge finally asked. 

“It should prove adequate,” was the only reply they got. They followed Raphael’s gaze to see if there was actually something worth looking at, but they saw nothing. Only the mountains.

“... So,” Raphael finally spoke without turning. “The vampling let slip that it was you who took the Crown from Mephistopheles’ vault. You and Gortash. I should have known.”

Gortash. Thinking of the man didn’t come easy to Durge. They knew there had been something there, the closest they’d ever had to friendship before Orin unwittingly set them free, but it was only the faded shade of a sensation. A memory of a memory of something they may have dreamed up, once.

Durge didn’t want to remember more; they were afraid of what may turn up, of the being they were when they’d so admired the slaver who sold Karlach to the Hells and doomed so many others to worse fates yet. But they would not pretend it had never been so, either. Pretending felt like a luxury they had not earned. 

“My favorite assassin,” Gortash had called them, and he had meant it. But they were no longer the person he’d known, not by a long shot. They had changed beyond recognition, and Enver Gortash had not.

“... I know Gortash lived in the House of Hope.”

A shrug. Dismissive. “For a time. He wasn’t my ward for very long. He found his way out annoyingly quickly, I have to say, although not before making some useful connections.”

“Why was he there?”

“He was sold to me. An overpriced brat if there ever was one.”

Durge scowled. “Why buy him in the first place?”

Another swig from the bottle. “I figured he had potential. And I was right, was I not? I have an eye for potential, you know I do, even if mortals are so prone to squandering it. I never bothered to try and take him back after he fled, but I’m pleased to know you put him down.”

“... Enver Gortash had to be stopped. Enver Flymm was a boy. The Hells are no place for a--”

“I paid for him, fair and square,” Raphael scoffed, and the indifference slipped. Suddenly, he looked angry. “For the full asking price his loving parents set, if you must know. If they didn’t want their boy to go to the Hells, they should not have handed him to a devil.”

“So why didn’t you bother?”

Raphael paused and blinked, taken aback, bottle in mid-air. “What?”

“You’d paid for him. Why didn’t you bother to take him back? You don’t strike me as someone willing to let an investment go. Unless he somehow became Bane’s Chosen the second he was out, what challenge would it have posed to you? Reclaiming a mortal boy?”

A sneer. “Maybe I was just curious to see how he’d burn himself out left on his own devices,” Raphael snapped, and took another swig from the bottle. He turned away. “I think we should consider this conversation over. Do not waste your breath or my time, unless it’s to beg forgiveness for your treachery. Or to tell me how you plan to recover the rest of my soul from Mephistopheles’ vaults.”

Durge sighed, and decided to let the matter drop. For now. “I do not recall the details of the heist in Mephistar,” they admitted. “But if I could steal the Crown then, I am sure I can get to your soul too.”

A hum, making it plain that Raphael very much failed to share that certainty, but he didn’t remark on it. He looked up at the setting sun instead, and so did Durge; it was turning the sky to-- blood -- fire, and it reflected on the lake’s still surface. In the distance, birds called.

“... What has become of the Crown?” Raphael finally asked, almost conversationally. Only the tenseness in his back betrayed how sore a subject that was.

“It came apart when we took down the Netherbrain. Gale was able to reforge it, and gave it to Mystra for safekeeping. She took the netherese orb out of his chest in exchange.” And, Durge knew, it had been the last interaction between them. As far as they were concerned, Gale was better off for it.

A snort. “Safekeeping, of course. As if gods are not wont to misuse power the same as everyone else,” was the response. One last swig, and Raphael passed the bottle over to Durge. They took it with a shrug.

“Who better to hold onto it than the goddess of all magic? It seemed the safest course of action.”

Raphael laughed, or at least he came remarkably close to it. “If you truly believe that,” he said with a wide gesture, tongue loosened by the wine, “then I have the most delightful bridge to sell you in Stygia.”

A snort, also not too far away from a laugh. “If after all this I’m still in the mood to invest in Baator’s infrastructure, I will let you know,” they said, and emptied the bottle in one gulp.

***

[Back to Chapter 6]

[On to Chapter 8]

[Back to Start]

[casmybelovedass]

I hate how New Who's problem is fundamentally the writing, cuz then people can just decide to ignore it and blame the actors to win the best doctor war.

Chris had fantastic writing g for a test season, and he was a great Doctor. He really embodied the whimsical of it all while still showing the darkness of an ancient being who had lost it all and was ready to make it rain Hell. Unfortunately he only lasted one season for us to enjoy, but canonically he'd had a century of being himself.

He's skippable.

David had some BRILLIAN writing and some really fucking MEH writing, but he did portrait the figure of someone trying so hard to run from their past while still being haunted by it in a poisonous way. BUT he was also trying to paint this image of himself as dashing merry-go-lucky but tragic hero, which inevitably brought him to his downfall. Water of Mars, while being a kinda MEH episode, contains the most important lesson of them all for him. He is not a human, nor a God, and he was trying to be both at the same time. And he is especially tragic because in canon he only got to live about 6-7 years. Fuck.

He's a crybaby.

Matt. Was. It. He WAS whimsical itself in that "I am clearly not a human and I do not care in the slightest 😀" way. WHILE being the one to actually almost succeed in leaving everything behind. The man who forgets. Fucking beautiful. BUT fucking Moffat had to go and create all these beautiful and interesting storylines to just... kinda fuck them up. Sometimes there really is a feeling of missed closure that makes me visibly shake. Oh well. But for real, I'm a hardcore 10girl (gn) and even I say that Matt's Doctor was the PERFECT combination of friendly and scary. 11/10

He's not Tennant.

PETER. WAS. IT. I will never rest until he gets recognised as one of the fucking best doctors. He was done. SO fucking done with it all. And while 9 was anaesthetised, 10 was PTSD-ed, and 11 was TIRED™️, 12 is 💯 done. Him finally getting back to Gallifrey only to fuck off in his childhood shed as people keep trying to talk to him? His fucking look when Rassilon interrupts him from eating his soup? AND THEN STRAIGHT UP LEAVING?!?!! Iconic. He is done playing young Prince Charming. He is Done trying to be human. He is letting all his years hit him like a truck and being incredibly autistic about it. SO fucking real. BUT his writing was shit. Same thing happened with Matt, he was given shit material to work with but CONSTANTLY like I can count on almost two hands the number of episodes I for real FOR REAL enjoyed. And unfortunately most of them would be because Missy or River were there. That was a mastodontical fucking loss. Fuck.

He's old and tasteless.

And Jodie. Poor fucking Jodie. She got caught in the Chibnall hurricane and suffered massively for it. The writing? Shit. The storylines? Shit. Motives? Shit. Characterisation? Sometimes really fucking shitty. AND DON'T GET ME STARTED ON THE TIMELESS CHILD BULLSHIT my god help me lord I am going to be sick. She did an amazing job being 🦄The Doctor🧚‍♂️, BUT her writing for the Oncoming Storm was so shit she couldn't do anything with it. They made her a tasteless Tennant and then blamed her for it. They really treated her as the "Yeah you got your female Doctor now shut up" Doctor, and gave her nothing else to be remembered for, unless you count the having the most fucking absurd writing Doctor. And to make her leave after having broadcasted to the moon and back that David was reprising the role, and that a non-british actor of colour was coming next, really took her moment away. Fucking awful.

She's a woman and tasteless.

Shameful.

[gimmethosedaddymilkers]

girl I'm so pissed, I was writing the hell out of this ask and it got ERASED!! AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!! anyway--

Heeeyyyyyy~ I'm back on my bullshit 🤠✨ I realized I'm in my independent woman stage and it got me thinking - pardon my goldfish cracker memory - have we discussed what Arthur is like with an independent partner?? He's had to deal with people always asking him for help, and now this person comes into his life who's capable of doing everything he can?! I can imagine he feels slightly relieved but also useless cause "acts of service" became his default love language so now he's like "what am i supposed to do??" - now I picture him all day in his tent writing this long ass love letter nonstop, doodles on every page and one detailed drawing of reader at the very last; he gives them a heavy envelope, nods once and goes to a nearby lake to wait for an answer (all you hear is Sweater Weather by The Neighbourhood in the background as he's walking away lmaoooo)

P.O.V: Arthur at the lake

Oh lord I have three things in here, my school and life has made my whole brain explode....

ANYWAY

Independent partner for Mr. Workhorse man? Oh no....what exactly would happen to our boy if that were to happen? Someone he doesn't have to take care of 25/8? But....he WANTS to take care of?

We shall see....

[modern-inheritance]

Modern Inheritance: Debrief, Pt. 1 (Intro)

(A/N: Politics! Verbal bullshitting! Thinly veiled threats! Overabundance of accessories and unnecessary magic use! POLITICS!

To quote Arya off screen, "I'd rather go through Gil'ead three more times than deal with any of this political hellscape, but *singsong* here I am! Putting on a STUPID dress uniform, about to be, for all intents and purposes, fucking INTERROGATED about being ambushed, losing my mate, teleporting a dragon egg, getting TORTURED while, haha, I was being asked a series of questions, also known as being interrogated, becAUSE THIS WON'T BE TRIGGERING AT ALL! :D GLEN WHY THE FUCK HAVEN'T WE RENOUNCED OUR FUCKING CULTURE YET?!"

Arya is required to attend an official debriefing on the ambush and her captivity by the council of elf lords and ladies. She prefers when she gets stabbed from the front.)

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“I still think this could be done on paper.” 

Glenwing patted his commander’s shoulder and pulled her into his side for a quick hug, never once faltering in their pace as they meandered to the great hall. “You’ll do fine. You can handle questions.” He paused, a grim tilt to his half smirk. “Don’t handle these questions like you did the last ones you got. You’re supposed to answer these ones.”

The dark humor drew a similarly tight lipped grin from her. “I’m not worried about that.” 

Arya raised a hand to run it over her hair and shot her medic a sheepishly appreciative look when he caught her wrist. It had taken both of them an almost embarrassing amount of time to remember how to tie the Flat Crest braid required of elven women when in dress uniform. It was even longer for Glen to do it neatly enough for Rhunön to give the plait a passing inspection, the smith’s obsession with perfection not helping matters. 

They both hadn’t voiced what was on their minds during the entire, rather exasperating, process. The real reason why they had so much trouble tying what should have been a hairstyle they knew by heart after all these years. 

Fäolin had always been the one to do whatever hairstyle was asked of them for official events, even before he joined their squad. He’d laugh at their attempts whenever they returned to the forest, usher them into a chair and deftly weave bright silver or midnight black strands into the designs required in seconds. Arya and Glenwing had simply never had to learn.

Arya let out a rough sigh and tucked her thumbs under either side of the shiny belt clasped around her waist. She missed Wyrda’s familiar weight on her right hip. “This is just another political stunt. I can manage Islanzadí, we’re…I don’t know, figuring it out, I guess. But all of them?” The young elf gestured helplessly, a hint of sharp restlessness and budding frustration in the movement. “Who in the hells knows what they’re going to ask. There’s too many strings here, tangled in too many webs.” She made a face at the metaphors. “At least I’m falling into the stupid formal language again easy enough.”

“And just like that, you’re out of it.” Glen gave the combat liaison another squeeze around the shoulders, pointedly ignoring the open stare of a lone elf sitting in an alcove as they passed. “You can count Iläin to at least be fair. And Rendir’s still pretty fond of you, even if you haven’t really talked since you got back. They’re not all against you, and this is just another debriefing, not some official trial for blame.” 

Arya snorted softly. “Oh, we both know blame is going to be a factor. Valaria looked incensed when I said I wasn’t sure how Durza got through the preliminary wards on the outskirts without triggering an alarm. She’s got a lot to explain, but it’s not like I can question her.” 

Glen bobbed his head in reluctant agreement. “Yeah…Valaria might be an issue. She was pretty harsh on me when I had my own debriefing.” The medic tapped the tip of each mechanical finger against the end of his metal thumb, running through nerve check after nerve check as he realized a troubling fact. “Däthedr reigned her in, but…”

“But he and the Queen probably won’t do the same for me.” Arya shook her head. “Too much personal history. Any interference could be seen as them interfering with the investigation and trying to shield me.”

“It’s pretty clear there’s nothing to blame you for, even a Mani’s Cave salamander could see that.” The image of Lady Valaria of House Teorann standing at her podium as an eyeless, bioluminescent salamander, constantly pushing the useless spectacles she wore just for show up her slimy tube of a snout, made Arya crack a genuine smile. “Just be polite, don’t give them anything to jump on.”

“Or you could light a fire under their asses, see how they like it.” Both elves looked up, startled that there was already someone waiting outside the doors to the great hall. Brom shook out the match still burning from lighting his pipe and tucked it into a small leather pocket sewn into the inside of his armored coat. “Not literally. Why do I always feel like I have to add that on with you?”

“Because you taught me too well.” Arya flashed her former mentor a sharp toothed grin. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have a remedial study hall to get to, old man?”

Brom grumbled into his beard, pipesmoke wafting up each time his lips parted. He had let the hairs grow again since they arrived, no longer quite as neat or well-kempt but passable as it grew out into a more formidable piece of facial hair. “As if I’d let you in there without an inspection. You’d probably go in with your boots untied and your shirt untucked if I wasn’t here.” He glanced at Glenwing. “Well, if Glen let you get away with it.” The medic gave him a grin of his own, knowing full well that was a lie. Brom cared far more than he ever wanted anyone to know, the sentimental old bastard. 

The old Rider gave his former ward a going over with his pipe clamped in his teeth. He tugged her sleeves straight and smoothed the lines of her shoulders, yanked the wrinkles out of the formal jacket by the hem. 

“Right. You pass.” His voice was gruff, but there was a certain warmth there. In a move only Glen or Brom could pull off, the man patted Arya’s cheek twice before he clasped her face in his hands. The gedwëy ignasia was rough and warm against her skin, tingling with everpresent magic despite his dragon’s passing. “You did everything you could and more, you hear me? Whatever those high and mighty idiots in there say, you’ve got nothing to be ashamed of and everything to be proud of. Understood?” 

Arya searched his face, the determination and buried worry etched into his skin above wild eyebrows and piercing blue eyes. The support she found meant multitudes, the support he had always shown, even when his rage and revenge was all he had in the world. She swore she’d never tell him, but despite the teasing they shared now, the arguments, the sometimes heavy handed tactics to try and prepare her for the world outside Du Weldenvarden…he had been more of a father to her than anyone. 

So of course there was only one response.

Brom felt the young elf just barely relax. She smiled at him, beaming, that little spitfire elfling again being reminded of her worth, of all the things she could do in the world. “Yes’sir. Understood.”

“Good girl.” The Rider released her and stepped back, giving her one last onceover. “Give them hell. I’m late for Oromis and Glaedr’s remedial lessons, or whatever you call them.” 

“Don’t pull a muscle, old man!” Arya called after his retreating back, getting an annoyed grunt in response. 

Glen checked the watch on his wrist as Arya’s smile faded. Two minutes. “You ready?”

The woman sucked in a breath and held it as she snapped to the familiar bearing of Attention, dropping into At Ease for a brief moment before letting the air out in a rush. “No. But it’s not like I can prepare for this bullshit.”

“I’ll be right here. Just yell and I’ll be in there in a heartbeat. Less, even.” Thirty seconds. Glen pulled his commander into one last quick hug before he smoothed out her uniform again. “Verrunsmal äthr.” 

Arya pushed her forehead against his and gave him a firm punch to the upper chest. “Verrunsmal äthr.” 

Then she turned, straightened with another steadying breath, and entered the great hall.