#Sirene square AC

[linnienin]

Hey! What are your thoughts on Sirene in Scorpio 10th square Ascendant? Thank you very much!

🍷 S i r e n e ⁕ s q u a r e ⁕ A C 🍷 (Scorpio-10th house)

🍷 Magnetic and luscious aura

🍷 Firm gaze

🍷 Low pitched sensual voice

🍷 Can also speak calmly (like Dumbledore in the Goblet of fire... just kidding 😂) and slowly

🍷 Investigating before doing their moves

🍷 Knows when it's the right moment to talk (this is because they study the people well) and this is the way they manipulate others and get what they want

🍷 Don't talk much (and ponder their words)

🍷 People are intimidated by their presence

🍷 Use body language to seduce

🍷 Can confuse and inebriate others with their words

🍷 Carry themselves with intensity

🍷 They can be insecure about themselves, this is why they put the extra work to study how they appear to try and understand the best way to get others listen to them

🍷 They can't take it when others disrespect them ( they become very vengeful, in the slow, cold blood way)

🍷 Feel intense emotions but good at masking them

I hope you enjoyed!

Wish you a wonderful day! 💖

[evangelinesbible]

YOUR ASTROLOGICAL BEAUTY

*NOTE* there’s obviously WAYYY more beauty asteriods and indications, these specifically speak out to me personally

RISING

An obvious one, but your rising sign is the basis of your physical appearance (specifically your face) aspects to your rising can give more insight into your appearance

Ex. I’m a Virgo rising with the moon and mars squared. So sometimes I can give more of a lunar appearance and sometimes a Martian appearance. I have softer aspects that are more tight then my squares that appear more. (Venus and Pluto trine my ASC)

CHART RULER

The chart ruler can also give you insight into your looks as well. It’ll be more like your aura but the houses rule body parts just like the sign

Ex. My chart ruler is the 8H so when matched with my Virgo rising I can’t tend to give off an intimating stoic vibe with my looks and to some I might appear naturally sexy or alluring

ACS PC RISING SIGN

Can be more accurate than your natal chart rising sign, can show the inner lying beauty you have

Ex. My ACS in this chart is Pisces conj. Vesta which can give me a youthful look and some mystical sex appeal (think like a mermaid)

VENUS

Another obvious one. Venus deals with beauty and attraction so the sign it’s in and aspects to it can show what type of beauty you have and what people find attractive about you

Ex. My Venus is in Taurus conj. NN/Pallas, sextile Saturn/Uranus, trine Jupiter/ASC, and sqaure Neptune 😅 that’s a lot but the most prominent is the Pallas conjunction and sextile Saturn. So beauty that gets better with time/age and a beauty and brains type of attractiveness

BELLA

Quite literally means beautiful so where this is in your chart can expose what is most beautiful about you

Ex. I have Bella conj. ASC so that can just plainly state that I’m conventionally beautiful or seen as a beautiful person. But I have this in retrograde so my perception of my beauty is warped and I have a hard time believing that I am

APHRODITE

Like an extension of your Venus when it comes to your beauty, attraction, and physical body. Can indicate sex appeal as well

Ex. I have Aries Aphrodite trine ASC so soft charm and seduction. Looking good in reds and showing off my body (not a lot just enough to tease

NYMPHE

Nymphe can represent universal and natural beauty/sexual attraction flirtatiousness and libido

Ex. My Nymphe is Pisces conj. Sun in 7H so my flirtatiousness is very playful and very much like the innocent act. My balanced beauty, confidence and sunny disposition can cause others to be sexually attracted to me

SIRENE

How your beauty lures and intrigues others. Can indicate how siren like you are.

Ex. My Sirene squares my mars. So I might lure in people because of my basic sexual nature/vibe and people might find my face/gaze to be very sexual, fierce and Martian like (Aries)

GLO

Can indicate what glows or shine about you not just internally but physically

Ex. My Glo trines my NN, Jupiter, and Venus. Focusing more on the Venus aspect; this can indicate being seen as an ideal beauty or the main thing that glows about me is my beauty

FAY

Ethereal, Magical, outer worldly, fairytale like beauty

Ex. My Fay conjuncts Neptune and Vesta in the 6H. So I may appear dreamy and young and outer worldly. I have an earthy sensual beauty.

PTAH

Powerful, striking, intimidating beauty (lots of supermodels have this prominent in their charts)

Ex. My Ptah square MC and Mars so people may perceive beauty as intimidating. I might be known to have a dominant and seductive/sexy stare.

Based off these asteroids what type of beauty do you think you have? Overall I think I’m a mix of ethereal hotness and basic attractiveness. 💋

-⚜️💫⚜️

[stevessunglasses]

when in doubt, always blame a man

note: this was supposed to be posted ages ago, but i couldn't figure out how to write the morning after. i still don't know how, so have this as is lmao. it’s a fun meet ugly.

this comes from the prompt: you got drunk, knocked on my door at 4a, obnoxiously flirted with me and then vomited all over my feet, now it’s the next day and you’re hungover and don’t remember anything and my firm belief that steve can only flirt when drunk.

word count: 2k

warnings: second hand embarrassment, vomit

It was rare that you got a full night's sleep in your apartment complex. Something or someone always managed to wake you up. It could be your neighbors arguing, a too loud radio, police sirens, your cat stepping on your stomach; anything, but always something. For the past two weeks however, you’d been blessed with undisturbed sleep. You had forgotten how wonderful it felt to be well rested. Every day seemed so much lighter, and easier, and you felt so much more productive. You were caught up on chores, with no piles of laundry or dishes, and had been acing your classes with no need for all nighters, and even had time to hang out with your friends a couple of times a week. It was the best you’d felt in months. 

So when you woke up at 3:37 a.m. to someone pounding on your door, you were rightfully pissed. 

You groaned, turning over and pulling your pillow over your head in a desperate attempt to ignore them. The pounding continued for a moment, before stopping. You sighed, and settled deeper into your bed, ready to drift back to sleep, when - 

“Robin!” 

Ugh. At this point, if you didn’t get rid of them, your neighbors were going to blame you.

“Robbieeeeeeeeee!”

You threw off your blankets, rolled out of bed, and contemplated getting dressed before deciding against it. you were wearing a shirt that, While not workplace appropriate with a slogan of WHEN IN DOUBT, ALWAYS BLAME A MAN, fell to mid thigh and boxer style panties. If someone was going to drunkenly wake you up this late, they got you in your truest form. 

You didn’t turn on any lights, instead walking down the short hallway to your front door with your arms outstretched like a zombie. At one point, you tripped over your cat, resulting in angry hissing, swearing, and a mumbled apology. 

“Robinnnnnnnnnnnn!”

Rolling your eyes at whoever was in the hall, you swung your door open, completely ready to rip them apart for waking you up, only for your wrath to get stuck in your throat.

The drunken stranger was hot.

He was tall, with thick brown hair somehow styled and messy at the same time, with a pair of aviators resting on the top of his head. His white button up was open to the middle of his chest, showing off a silver chain and equally thick chest hair. A brown leather jacket, black jeans rolled at the ankle, and white nikes completed the look, but you didn’t care about that. You were far more focused on his square jaw, pretty lips, and kissable moles.

“You’re not robin,” the drunken stranger slurred, causing you to make some terrible noise that was somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. “You’re like, way hotter than robin.”

You watched his red rimmed hazel eyes trail up your bare legs, and a surprising sense of confidence settled over him. You were wearing a shirt that came down to mid thigh, but the look he was giving you made you feel like you were wearing something far more scandalous. He straightened from his slouch and a smirk pulled at his pretty lips. An arm came up to lean against the door frame, showcasing his already impressive biceps, and allowing a bigger gap in his shirt to see his chest.

“Honey, you can blame me for whatever you want, whenever you want,” he said. “I mean, goddamn, I was already having a good night, but you just made it a million times better. I must've been a saint in another life to get to meet you, sweetheart.”

“Alright, casanova,” you laughed. “I'm glad you’re having fun, but Robin’s not here, so time to go, okay?”

“Who cares?” the man said, pushing away from the door frame to instead lean against it with his shoulder, crossing his arms in front of his chest. his biceps seemed even bigger like that, making you unconsciously lick your lips. “I just met an angel.”

“Says the saint,” you said, unable to help grinning at the cocky man in front of you.

“Or a sinner in need of saving,” he offered with a shrug. “Whatever I am, I'll happily worship you. The only heaven I'll be sent to is when I'm alone with you.”

His tongue slowly traced along his bottom lip, making you flush from head to toe. How were you supposed to respond to that? His hazel eyes remained steady on yours, and you found it impossible to look away. 

“I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies,” he whispered, voice rough and husky. “I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife. Offer me that deathless death, good god, let me give you my life.”

You blinked, shaking your head slightly to clear the fog of his spell. “Wait. Are you quoting Hozier?”

The man blanched and his eyes widened. “No?”

“Oh my god, you totally are! Take Me to Church. My lover’s got humor; she’s the giggle at a funeral,” your voice was terribly off pitch, but you didn’t care in the slightest. You were having too much fun watching the man cringe. “Knows everybody’s disapproval, I should’ve worshiped her sooner. Who doesn’t know it?”

“Okay, wait-” he said, straightening away from the frame and swaying slightly. He looked unsteady on his feet again, but you weren’t paying attention. 

“Have you used that before?” you laughed. “There’s no way it worked.”

“It’s romantic,” he complained, rubbing the heel of his hand against his eye.

“I mean, yeah, he is, but why would you use such well known lyrics? Why not do something like make your good love known to me or just tell me about your day or even honey, just put your sweet lips on my lips, we should just kiss like real people do.”

“I was going off worshiping you but kissing will do. Here, shut the door. Lemme try again.”

You giggled at that, lifting a hand to cover your mouth to try and quiet the noise. The man grinned, thrilled at being able to make you laugh but it turned into a pit when your giggles settled and you shook your head at him.

“No,” you said, still softly smiling. “It’s late. You’re drunk. You need to go home!”

“I just met my soulmate, and you want me to go home?! Take mercy on my poor, drunk soul and give me your name and number at least,” he said as he dramatically slapped a hand to his heart.

“You won’t even remember me in the morning,” you shook your head affectionately. 

The man threw his head back and scoffed. “I totally will! I haven’t blacked out in years.”

“Then tonight’s the night.”

“Nope. You’ll be ingrained in my memory, honey.”

He leaned forward again, stumbling slightly with the momentum of his movement. You reached out to catch him, but he waved off, instead pointing a finger in your face. His hazel eyes caught yours and froze you in place and time, and you were certain that even if he woke up tomorrow with no recollection of you, this man and this night would be seared into your mind.

“I was gonna quote more Hozier to you but that was the only song I know.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, unable to stop smiling.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered.

He was still leaning so close that part of you felt that you could feel his breath across your cheeks. You watched as his gaze flicked from your eyes to your lips again and again. Your heart was racing, racing, racing and god, please don’t let this be a dream. He stepped closer, lifting his hand to rest on your face, his thumb caressing the apple of your cheek. His eyes flicked back and forth again, waiting for your permission before he began to slowly lean forward as your eyelids drifted closed.

A hand on your waist shoved you to the side, as a body suddenly pitched forward with a terrible sound. You watched in complete shock as the stranger vomited an endless stream all over the carpet. 

Oh, this was a nightmare. 

The man groaned, waking you from your stunned state. You quickly grabbed his elbow, carefully guiding him inside and to sit on your couch. He immediately tilted to the side, laying down with his arms wrapped around his stomach. Keeping an eye on him over your shoulder, you hurried to your little kitchenette to grab a piece of tupperware. The man had started to hitch forward just as you made it back to him. 

“Here,” you said, shoving the tupperware into his hands. He took it, but was unable to say thank you as he opened his mouth. 

Total. Fucking. Nightmare. 

A while later, you had cleaned up and were now turning the couch into a bed as the man brushed his teeth in the bathroom. He had argued at first, embarrassed and far more sober than he had been before, but you ignored him. Maybe letting a stranger stay the night wasn’t the smartest choice, but you knew you’d feel terrible if you let him leave sick and drunk with no one to take care of him. You hadn’t told him that though, still annoyed with the circumstances that had gotten you here, and instead banished him to the bathroom to clean up. 

You’d just put down the last pillow when the man returned. “Thank you for all this,” he said. 

“No problem,” you replied, giving him a quick smile, but your eyes widened as you took him in. He had taken off his jacket and shoes, and his shirt was now completely unbuttoned, showcasing his chest in all its glory. His hair was disheveled and damp, like he had run wet hands through it and his pants sat low on his hips. He looked completely ravished, and for a moment you could only stare as you imagined other ways for him to have gotten there. 

“I was gonna call my friend, but uh, my phone’s dead, so…”

“You can borrow my charger,” you said, shaking yourself free from your reverie. “I’ll grab it. Artie is probably hiding in my room right now, so sorry if she wakes you up later?”

“Artie?” he asked.

“My cat,” you explained. “She pretends to be shy, but then goes totally feral, so you might feel some love bites in the night.”

“As long as I can give them back to you,” he said with an easy grin. 

“From Artie,” you rolled your eyes and tossed him a pillow. “I’m headed to bed. There’s water and Ibuprofen on the coffee table for when you wake up if I’m not up before you. More blankets are in that closet if you get cold.”

“Thank you,” he said. “I know I said that already, but I mean it. You really didn’t have to do all this.”

“Yeah, well,” you shrugged. “Not every night a drunk stranger wakes you up to flirt and then puke.”

The man cringed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Any chance we can forget about that part?”

“Never,” you laughed. He chuckled at that, making you grin. 

“You sure I can’t just start over?” he asked.

“How’re you gonna do that?”

He rolled his neck and straightened, putting on a persona of easy confidence. He still looked partly disheveled with his clothes and his hair, but in that moment it hit you that maybe it was safer for you to have met this man when he was drunk and messy, because if you met him like this persona, sober, confident, and with that teasing smile on his face, you would have fallen in love in a heartbeat.

Instead, you were just confusingly turned on.

“Hey there, I’m Steve,” he said. He held out a hand for you to shake which you did so with a giggle. “Sorry for kinda crashing the party but I just had to introduce myself.”

“By picking an apartment at random?” you teased.

He snapped his fingers, giving you double finger guns and a wink. “You get it!”

“Go to sleep, you dork,” you laughed, walking past him to your room.

“I’ll dream about you!”

[littledigest]

Astro Observation: Beauty and Attraction in Astrology - Analyzing the Big 4 of the Golden Age of Hollywood - PART 3

BEAUTY ASTEROIDS

424, 3199, 443, 562, 176, 118, 875, 1009, 1488, 52975

6, 433, 193, 47, 23437, h13

Gratia 424 - grace, refinement

Marilyn has Gratia conjunct Saturn in Scorpio 4th, square Neptune Leo 1st, square Moon and Jupiter in Aquarius 7th, trine Mars in Pisces 8th (T-Square Gratia-Neptune-Moon/Jupiter)

Audrey has Gratia in Cancer 4th quintile Venus in Aries 1st, trine Moon in Pisces 1st, opposite Saturn in Capricorn 10th, sextile Part of Fortune in Taurus 2nd

Elizabeth has Gratia in Aquarius 2nd sextile Venus and Uranus in Aries 4th, trine MC in Libra, square Moon in Scorpio 11th, opposite Jupiter in Leo 8th

Grace has Gratia in Virgo 11th sextile Mars in Scorpio 1st, opposite Moon in Pisces 5th

Nefertiti 3199 - graceful, regal, powerful

Marilyn has Nefertiti in Virgo 2nd trine MC in Taurus, quintile Saturn in Scorpio 4th, square Sun and Mercury in Gemini 10th

Audrey has Nefertiti in Aries 1st square Saturn in Capricorn 10th, biquintile Neptune in Leo 6th

Elizabeth has Nefertiti in Libra 9th biquintile Mars in Pisces 2nd, opposite Part of Fortune in Aries 3rd

Grace has Nefertiti in Virgo 11th sextile Sun in Scorpio 1st, opposite Moon in Pisces 5th, sextile Pluto in Cancer 9th

Photographica 443 - photography, photogenic, photographed

Marilyn has Photographica conjunct Vertex in Sagittarius 5th, sextile Moon in Aquarius 7th, trine Neptune in Leo 1st, trine Part of Fortune in Aries 9th (Grand Trine Photographica-Neptune-POF)

Audrey has Photographica in Libra 7th trine AC in Aquarius, opposite Venus in Aries 1st, biquintile Mercury in Gemini 3rd

Elizabeth has Photographica conjunct Neptune in Virgo 8th, opposite Sun and Mercury in Pisces 2nd, biquintile Saturn in Aquarius 2nd

Grace has Photographica in Sagittarius 2nd opposite Vertex in Gemini 8th, biquintile North Node in Taurus 7th, square Moon in Pisces 5th

Salome 562 - seductive, sexual object, taken advantage of, dancing

Marilyn has Salome in Libra 3rd trine Moon in Aquarius 7th, square North Node in Cancer 12th, square South Node in Capricorn 6th

Audrey has Salome in Gemini 3rd square Moon in Pisces 1st

Elizabeth has Salome in Sagittarius 1st square North Node in Pisces 3rd, square South Node in Virgo 9th, biquintile Vertex in Cancer 8th

Grace has Salome in Leo 9th square Venus in Libra 12th, trine Uranus in Aries 5th

Iduna 176 - eternal youth

Marilyn has Iduna in Libra 3rd opposite Venus in Aries 9th, trine Jupiter in Aquarius 7th

Audrey has Iduna conjunct Mercury in Gemini 3rd

Elizabeth has Iduna in Scorpio 12th trine North Node in Pisces 3rd, trine Part of Fortune in Aries 3rd, trine Vertex in Cancer 3rd (Grand Trine Iduna-NN-POF)

Grace has Iduna in Leo 9th conjunct MC in Leo, square Mercury and South Node in Scorpio 1st, square North Node in Taurus 7th

Peitho 118 - persuasion, grooming, accessorizing

Marilyn has Peitho in Sagittarius 4th opposite Sun and Mercury in Gemini 10th, trine AC in Leo

Audrey has Peitho in Virgo 7th opposite Moon in Pisces 1st, trine Sun and Part of Fortune in Taurus 2nd, quintile South Node in Scorpio 8th

Elizabeth has Peitho in Taurus 5th sextile Sun and Mercury in Pisces 2nd, trine Neptune in Virgo 8th

Grace has Peitho conjunct Sun, Mercury, and South Node in Scorpio 1st, quintile Neptune in Virgo 10th, trine Pluto in Cancer 9th

Nymphe 875 - natural beauty and sexuality, youthful

Marilyn has Nymphe conjunct Uranus in Pisces 8th

Audrey has Nymphe in Libra 7th biquintile Jupiter and North Node in Taurus 2nd, sextile MC in Sagittarius

Elizabeth has Nymphe in Cancer 7th trine Sun and Mercury in Pisces 2nd, sextile Neptune in Virgo 8th

Grace has Nymphe in Sagittarius 2nd trine MC in Leo, trine Uranus in Aries 5th (Grand Trine Nymphe-MC-Uranus)

Sirene 1009 - femme fatale, seductive, enchanting voice

Marilyn has Sirene in Sagittarius 4th opposite Mercury in Gemini 10th, biquintile Venus in Aries 9th

Audrey has Sirene in Libra 7th trine Mercury in Gemini 3rd, square Saturn in Capricorn 10th, opposite Uranus in Aries 1st, biquintile AC in Aquarius, quintile MC in Sagittarius

Elizabeth has Sirene in Pisces 3rd trine Moon in Scorpio 11th, trine Pluto in Cancer 7th (Grand Trine Sirene-Moon-Pluto)

Grace has Sirene conjunct Mercury and South Node in Scorpio 1st

Aura 1488 - aura, vibe, energy

Marilyn has Aura conjunct Mars in Pisces 8th, trine Saturn in Scorpio 4th, trine Pluto and North Node in Cancer 11th/12th (Grand Trine Aura-Saturn-Pluto/NN)

Audrey has Aura in Virgo 7th sextile Mars in Cancer 6th, trine Jupiter and North Node in Taurus 2nd

Elizabeth has Aura in Pisces 3rd biquintile Jupiter in Leo 8th, trine Pluto in Cancer 7th

Grace has Aura conjunct Sun, Mercury, and South Node in Scorpio 1st, quintile Neptune in Virgo 10th, trine Pluto in Cancer 9th

Cyllarus 52975 - ideal appearance

Marilyn has Cyllarus in Virgo 2nd biquintile Moon in Aquarius 7th, quintile Pluto in Cancer 11th (Golden Yod Cyllarus-Moon-Pluto)

Audrey has Cyllarus in Libra 7th biquintile Part of Fortune in Taurus 2nd, trine Mercury in Gemini 3rd, square Saturn in Capricorn 10th

Elizabeth has Cyllarus in Libra 9th opposite Part of Fortune in Aries 3rd

Grace has Cyllarus in Libra 11th square Part of Fortune in Cancer 8th, opposite Uranus in Aries 5th

Hebe 6 - eternal youth

Marilyn has Hebe in Scorpio 4th square Moon in Aquarius 7th, trine Pluto and North Node in Cancer 11th

Audrey has Hebe in Virgo 7th opposite Moon in Pisces 1st, trine Part of Fortune in Taurus 2nd

Elizabeth has Hebe conjunct DC in Gemini 7th, trine MC in Libra, sextile Jupiter in Leo 8th, sextile Uranus in Aries 4th

Grace has Hebe conjunct AC and Mercury in Scorpio 1st, sextile Neptune in Virgo 10th, trine Part of Fortune in Cancer 8th

Eros 433 - erotic, sensual, passionate

Marilyn has Eros in Capricorn 6th square Venus and Part of Fortune in Aries 9th, sextile Uranus in Pisces 8th

Audrey has Eros in Cancer 5th quintile Venus in Aries 1st, trine Moon in Pisces 1st, sextile Part of Fortune in Taurus 2nd, square Uranus in Aries 1st

Elizabeth has Eros conjunct Sun, Mercury, and Mars in Pisces 2nd, opposite Neptune in Virgo 8th, biquintile Vertex in Cancer 8th

Grace has Eros in Sagittarius 2nd trine MC in Leo, trine Uranus in Aries 5th (Grand Trine Eros-MC-Uranus)

Ambrosia 193 - longevity, eternal, youth

Marilyn has Ambrosia conjunct Saturn in Scorpio 4th, trine Mars in Pisces 8th, trine North Node in Cancer 12th (Grand Trine Ambrosia-Mars-NN), square Moon in Aquarius 7th, square Neptune in Leo 1st (T-Square Ambrosia-Moon-Neptune)

Audrey has Ambrosia in Leo 6th quintile Jupiter and North Node in Taurus 2nd, square Part of Fortune in Taurus 2nd

Elizabeth has Ambrosia in Aquarius 2nd conjunct Mars in Pisces 2nd

Grace has Ambrosia in Libra 12th quintile MC in Leo, square Pluto in Cancer 9th

Aglaja 47 - brilliance, beauty, splendor

Marilyn has Aglaja in Taurus 9th conjunct MC in Taurus, quintile North Node in Cancer 12th

Audrey has Aglaja in Libra 7th opposite Venus in Aries 1st, square Pluto and Mars in Cancer 5th/6th

Elizabeth has Aglaja in Gemini 6th square Sun, Mercury, and Mars in Pisces 2nd, square Neptune in Virgo 8th (T-square Aglaja-Neptune-Sun/Mercury/Mars)

Grace has Aglaja in Sagittarius 2nd square Neptune in Virgo 10th, trine Uranus in Aries 5th

Sima 23437 - face, appearance

Marilyn has Sima conjunct Saturn in Scorpio 4th, trine Mars in Pisces 8th, trine North Node in Cancer 12th (Grand Trine Sima-Mars-NN), square Moon in Aquarius 7th, square Neptune in Leo 1st (T-Square Sima-Moon-Neptune), conjunct Ambrosia in Scorpio 4th

Audrey has Sima in Virgo 7th biquintile Venus in Aries 1st, trine Sun, Jupiter, and North Node in Taurus 2nd

Elizabeth has Sima conjunct Jupiter in Leo 8th, trine AC in Sagittarius, sextile MC in Libra

Grace has Sima in Sagittarius 1st square Neptune in Virgo 10th, trine Uranus in Aries 5th

Lilith h13 (True Lilith) - untamed femininity

Marilyn has Lilith in 12th conjunct AC in Leo, sextile Sun in Gemini 10th

Audrey Hepburn has Lilith in Sagittarius conjunct Saturn in Capricorn 10th, sextile AC in Aquarius, biquintile North Node in Taurus 2nd, trine Neptune in Leo 6th

Elizabeth has Lilith conjunct North Node in Pisces 3rd, trine Vertex in Cancer 8th

Grace has Lilith in Capricorn 3rd trine North Node in Taurus 7th, sextile South Node Scorpio 1st

CLOSING STATEMENTS

Marilyn Monroe has the most beauty asteroids in her 4th house (Scorpio, Sagittarius) [7/32]. The sign that appeared the most is a tie between Cancer, Scorpio, and Pisces (all the water signs) [5/32 for all 3 signs].

Audrey Hepburn has an overwhelming number of beauty asteroids concentrated in the 7th house (Leo, Virgo, Libra). When I say overwhelming, I mean she has almost half of all these beauty asteroids in her 7th house [15/32]. Her most common sign is a tie between Virgo and Libra [7/32 for both]

Elizabeth Taylor's most common house is the 3rd (Pisces, Aries) and 8th house (Cancer, Leo, Virgo) [6/32 for both]. The most common sign is a tie between Scorpio and Pisces [6/32 for both].

Grace Kelly has a lot of beauty asteroids concentrated in her 1st house (Scorpio, Sagittarius) [9/32]. The most common sign is Scorpio [8/32], with Sagittarius as a close second [7/32].

Several formations, mainly Grand Trines, were made with asteroids and major planets. Most were in Marilyn and Elizabeth's charts.

Grace Kelly had many prominent asteroids related to royalty/nobility, which matches the fact that she became a royal [Kleopatra, Godiva, Regulus, Helena, Nefertiti].

There are many asteroids prominent in these charts, but these are the ones that were most interesting to me:

Photographica 443

All 4 women have become icons through their photographs and movies. Marilyn and Grace’s Photographica are aspecting their Vertex (destiny). Marilyn and Audrey have Photographica aspecting angular Moon, Venus, Neptune, AC. Elizabeth’s Photographica is conjunct her Neptune (film, illusion) and opposite her Sun/Mercury.

Sirene 1009

All have Sirene aspecting Mercury or in the 3rd house (seductive, enchanting voice) like an actual siren. Marilyn and Audrey were known for singing as well.

See PART 1 here!

See PART 2 here!

[artiemouse]

tiny comic for @nineeteen2000 ‘s siren au I just thought it would be funny if ace taught 2D to associate murdoc with an insult instead of his name lol

also I like the idea of 2D trying to be threatening when he is the least threatening thing on the planet (even when he's a man-eating fish) like when a cat tries to square up. yeah yeah you could scratch my eyes out, but are you going to? fluffing your tail ain't gonna scare me, buddy. time for the squirt bottle

[inexplicablymine]

2023 Writing Roundup

Thank you to @welcometololaland @cha-melodius @kiwiana-writes @three-drink-amy and @rmd-writes @orchidscript for the tags, it was a fruitful year for my first toe dip into fanfic ~ and it will end with quite the bang as well (hence why I’m putting off my 2023 fic wrapped until at least January 1st).

July

No Sense or Sensibility (RWRB, T, 5K)

How to win the newlywed game with your best friend with whom you are not even dating (yet)

Uncut Not Uncultured (RWRB, E, 6K)

Alex never thought about if Henry was uncut down there… but now it’s all he can think about

August

The month in which I disappeared from all internet for three weeks to enjoy one of my other loves in this life with no service!

September

- Mr BodyPillow (RWRB, T, 21K)

The adventures of Ace Alex finding love, cuddles, and assurance from Henry

October

- They Were Tentmates! (RWRB, M, 4K)

What happens when you are forced to share a tent (and a sleeping bag) with your nemesis

- Because I’m a Scoundrel (RWRB, E, 8K)

Olympic athletes! TIME Gala at the White House! Mistaken couples costumes!

November

- Mr Party Hardy (RWRB, T, 7K)

A Mr. BodyPillow follow up exploring Alex’s relationships with parties pre and post Henry

- Minty Fresh (RWRB, G, 2K)

An illustrated story of their relationship to proposal one gum wrapper at a time

- No Nut November (RWRB, E, 10K)

Can the boys survive No Nut November? Not without a lot of innuendos that’s for sure.

December

- No Laughing Matter (RWRB, T, 3K)

Alex is the dental hygienist who helps with Henry’s Wisdom Teeth removal. It’s just as funny as you imagine.

To be posted before the end of the year :)

Super Six and the Sirens Call (RWRB, T, 111K, 20th)

Camp Halfblood meet the Super Six, a quest of the likes you have never seen before

Not So Silent Night (RWRB, E, TBD, 21st)

Alex is sick and tired of his piano playing neighbor, but what happens when they get stuck in an apartment together on the longest night of the year?

Messiah (RWRB, M, TBD, 25th)

Two boys, two instruments, two churches. Midnight mass and a very religious experience between the two of them

Fifteen Hours Till Forever (RWRB, M, TBD, 25th)

A firstprince canon compliant wedding weekend

Balls to the Wall (RWRB, T, TBD, 26th)

The story of how Alex spent a night in college in the drunk tank… even though he was never drunk

Glitter Bomb (RWRB, E, TBD, 27th)

Alex comes wrapped in a bow for Henry… and in some glitter

Where Is My SuperSuit (RWRB, M, TBD, 28th)

A four way love square between two super powered idiots

3/4th Cup of Love (RWRB, E, TBD, 29th)

What really happened in the kitchen when Alex taught Henry how to make those quiches

Sleeping Beauties (RWRB, M, TBD, 30th)

Alex and Henry attend the 2024 Met Gala as the muses of world class designer Pez Okonjo

Halfway There (RWRB, T, TBD, 31st)

Canon compliant demiromantic Alex realization contemplation and conversation

So much still happening!!! Will end the year with a whopping 19 fics and over 100K words shared. Spectacular.

An open tag but also tagging some lovely people to share what a year they have had!!

@adinarj @affectionatelyrs @anincompletelist @alasse9 @clottedcreamfudge @celaestis1 @cheesecurdsgravyandfries @celeritas2997 @cultofsappho @dumbpeachjuice @daisymae-12 @everwitch-magiks @firenati0n @happiness-of-the-pursuit @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @hillerskas @heybuddy-drabbles @iboatedhere @indestructibleheart @indomitable-love @jackwolfes @kill8a @lem0nademouth @littlemisskittentoes @nontoxic-writes @pirates-against-heterosexuality @roseapothecary @rockyroadkylers @read-and-write- @smc-27 @saintlynomenclature @three-drink-amy @tintagel-or-cockleshells @thinkof-england @vonpeepsisback @wordsofhoneydew @xthelastknownsurvivorx @zwiazdziarka

[qbdatabase]

Ahoy, mates and mutineers!

This month’s list features some of my top picks for women who rule the high seas–and the occasional space ship. Or really fucked up ghost ship. Plus a couple extra disaster male pirates 😘

Book descriptions and rep for lesbian, bisexual, butch, disabled, autistic, and women of color below the cut!

*Barbary Station / R. E. Stearns: Sci-Fi; grad students turn to space-piracy to pay off their debts but find they’re trapped on-station by an evil AI, feat. autistic lesbian x bi girlfriend

The Mermaid, the Witch, and the Sea / Maggie Tokuda-Hall: YA Fantasy; a genderfluid pirate accidentally bonds with their noble Lady passenger, set on a wild escape, and free a captured mermaid

Ship of Smoke and Steel / Django Wexler: YA Fantasy, Action; Asian bisexual crime boss fights a ghost pirate ship (yes, the ship itself) with her lesbian healer girlfriend

The Lady’s Guide to Petticoats and Piracy / Mackenzi Lee: YA Historical; an aro-ace lady schemes to become a doctor, but she’ll settle for being a pirate!

The Fifth Season / N. K. Jemisin: Fantasy, Dystopia; a poly bisexual woman sets out on a vengeance quest to rescue her kidnapped daughter the day the world ends

Compass Rose / Anna Burke: Fantasy / Sci-Fi; a black lesbian goes undercover as a pirate in the 26th century

Windfall / Shawna Barnett: Fantasy; a secret-princess pirate Captain is blackmailed into protecting a runaway real princess in bisexual love square

A Song of Silver and Gold / Melissa Karibian: Fantasy; retelling of The Little Mermaid with enemies-to-lovers, butch lesbian pirate Captain x siren warrior who must cut out her heart

The Dawnhounds by Sascha Stronach: Sci-Fi; bisexual dead cop comes back wrong and works w/pirates to stop a plague

*Captain Raven and the All Girl Pirate Crew: YA graphic novel; Raven needs revenge against her brothers, so she hires a female crew, feat. Deaf, lesbian, and women of color

(extra) The Gentleman’s Guide to Vice and Virtue: YA Historical; alcoholic bi male x epileptic biracial gay male; the first in the series by Makenzie Lee

*(extra) Kidnapped by the Pirate / Keira Andrews: Romance; a young gay man offers himself as hostage to an older pirate Captain to save his sister

*titles with an asterisk next to them have been featured on QBdatabase.com as a daily book; this lists the book's full jacket summary, detailed notes on representation, and a link to its goodreads page!

[paperlicense687]

Here is part two.

The journey continues

Jonathan rushed out of the house and into the back garden, grass blades standing up just a bit taller than him covering the area, it was easy to get lost but made decent cover.

He could hear loud wailing of sirens behind him, the fire department was finally there. He remembered sneakily watching the humans tv to see a fire fighter carrying something that shot water.

His heart speed up at the thought of being hit by such a strong stream of water.

He pushed the thought away though, and tried to focus on getting out of the garden and into woods that was just behind it.

It took a while but he eventually got to the woods, well technically. He actually ran along the border, too scared to go completely in. Especially since it was getting dark out.

Sure Jonathan had ok night vision, but he didn't know how much that would actually help him if he did see anything coming at him.

Jonathan never really learned to fight. His claws and teeth were used more to get around then defending himself, that didn't mean they weren't dangerous, just inexperienced.

——————————later——————————

The sun had set and now Jonathan's only source of light was coming from the windows of homes that housed night owls, workaholic's or people who waited till the last second to do their work.

Jonathan could see fine without that light, though he hoped it would keep other animals away.

The houses looked kinda ominous from his point of view, the white wood paneling and dull red brick walls looming over him even from a distance, with dark squares for windows, as he was unable to see the inside.

The quiet air only being filled by crickets and his own movement adding to the odd atmosphere.

Jonathan was used to the sound of an ac, humans snores or them shifting in their sleep. Not this airy silence.

He guessed it was a good thing though, if an animal tried to sneak up on him he would hear it clear as day.

Jonathan looked at the house that was right next to the house he used to live in, it's white wooden paneling and red brick walls.

He had been heading towards it for the past two hours now, his 4.3 inches of height making the walk feel like even longer.

He had decided the house would work, as it only had one human living there according to what the humans in his old house had said.

They also said other stuff, something about him being a writer. Though Jonathan didn't know what that meant, he hoped it was nothing bad.

-–—–—-

After another three hours of walking to the house and looking for an entrance, Jonathan was inside.

He was exhausted, hungry and thirsty, but he couldn't sleep now. He still had to find an area that mice or rats wouldn't get him while he rested.

Jonathan wondered if he could try and train a rat one day, maybe ride it like a pet. He giggled at the impossible idea. But still wondered.

Tap, tap, creak.

Jonathan stopped in his tracks, his ears jolting up and at attention. He could have sworn he just heard small footsteps, was a borrower already living here? He thought, looking around.

The walls were a bit thick, leaving a good amount of room inside. There wasn't what Jonathan would call a path in this part, so maybe he had just heard something else.

Tap, tap, shea-pop.

Jonathan jumped back in alarm, just barely dodging an arrow that had been aimed at his head.

Jonathan bolted, not away, but towards the attacker. Knowing they were probably still reloading.

See, cool thing about Jon, he's an evolved species of borrower. There are loads of different species, but his was unique for three reasons.

Their size, being double the size of a regular borrower. Their claws, being sharp for both mobility and defense. And lastly their bite, his species had venomous fangs.

Now the bites varied between two types of ravagers, it could be a painful warning similar to insects or more serious like a snakes, something that would cause the blood to be unable to clot and continuously bleed.

Fanged Ravager is the snake like variant and Stinger Ravager is the insect like variant.

Jonathan happened to be a fanged one. Which explains why the stranger attacked him, since most other borrowers were scared of his species.

Jonathan climbed up and quickly, spotting the stranger. They were a young boy, probably around his age and looked like a normal borrower.

The kid pulled his bow back and got ready to shoot again, but Jonathan being twice his size wasn't intimidated.

He easily charged at the boy, throwing the weapon from his hands. Using his claws and size advantage to pined the borrower against the wood they'd been perched on.

Now, although Ravager where strong and scary, they were not commonly known for hunting other borrower. Unless they were desperate.

Jonathan didn't want to hurt the kid, he just wanted to know why he'd been shot at and almost killed.

Jonathan glared at the stranger. "Why did you try to shoot me?" He asked, his fangs visible when he spoke. Jon knew scaring the already terrified kid was cruel, but he was pissed.

The boy squirmed in his grip, tears drops bubbling up in his eyes and spilling over his cheeks. "L-let me go! Please! D-don't eat me!" He screamed.

Jonathan winced. Maybe I went too far. He thought, feeling a bit bad, but also annoyed that the kid thought he'd eat him.

"I'm not going to hurt you, I just wanna know why you tried to hurt me." Jonathan said, speaking without showing his teeth this time.

The boys pointless struggling didn't calm down, it actually seemed to grow worse the longer he was pinned. "I-I'm sorry! I- I thought you we-were hunting me!" He rambled, his voice desperate.

Self defense? You're going to try saying that when you snuck up behind me? Jonathan thought, narrowing his eyes.

"Do you wanna try explaining again, and be truthful this time?" Jonathan asked, his tail flicking in annoyance.

The boy cried. "I-I was scared! I'm sorry! Please let me go!" The boy pleaded, his high pitched voice cracking.

Jonathan sighed. He's just a kid, I'll take it easy on him. He decided, letting go and getting off of him. Jon backed up and stood at his full height.

"I'm letting you go this time, but if you try something like that again..." Jonathan made it clear what he was threatening, his glaring eyes finishing the sentence.

The boy nodded his head profusely, getting the idea. He shakily stood up and breathing heavily.

Jonathan turn and walked away, not wishing to talk to the borrower any longer and figuring that he felt the same.

"H-hey, w-wait Uh umm..." The boy called, his words seeming to die in his throat when Jon turned to look at him.

I'm not that intimidated am I? Jonathan wondered, raising an eyebrow at the boy. "What?" Jon asked.

"Umm, what's y-your name? I-I'm Quill." Quill said, introducing himself nervously.

Jonathan figured sharing names wouldn't hurt. "I'm Jonathan, Um are there any other borrower here that might try to attack me?" Jon asked.

Might as well get some information. Jon thought. "Yeah, a-and they attack everyone- including me." Quill said, a bit uncomfortably.

"So they're a territorial group, what are they?" Jon asked, a bit annoyed to hear that they'd attack a child borrower.

"Yeah, t-two of them are Mouse Tails and the last one is a Stinger- I think, unless it was just a dry bite." Quill said, rambling a bit.

Another Ravager? Jonathan thought curiously. He hadn't seen another Ravager since he was like 4 years old. Wait- dry bite?!

"The Ravager bit you? Is that why you were scared of me?" Jon asked, tilting his head a bit. "Well- y-yeah, Ravagers are scary ok? Plus you're like twice my size." Quill said, still scared.

"I guess that's fair, but you didn't have to attack before I even noticed you. Most Ravagers prefer to just be left alone." Jonathan said, he wasn't speaking from experience on the last part tho.

He'd grown up with borrower parents and was almost always with one of them. Except for one time...

"Then why does he hangout with those two Mouse Tails?" Quill asked. Jonathan didn't know how to answer that question, he questioned it too.

Maybe they raised him? Or maybe they befriended him. Jon reasoned, though he was still a little curious.

He could try talking to them but he didn't feel like going in others territory before establishing his own. That could end badly.

"They could be friends, or partners. Either way it's not my business, I'm gonna go um, bye Quill." Jon said, waving a hand goodbye and walking away.

"O-ok, just watch out for them- they hangout in the kitchen area, b-bye." Quill said, grabbing his bow and running off.

Such an eventful day, I'm exhausted. Jonathan thought sighing as he picked up the pace, breaking into a sprint on all fours.

I just need to keep going. I'll find an area quickly, hopefully. Jon thought, a bit unsure.

-–—–—-

He ran for awhile and eventually found a spot, only problem was-

It was in one of the bedroom walls. A bit inconvenience if the human happens to hear him, but Jonathan know how to be quiet- kinda.

He set up his bed, storage and looked at his supplies. He had enough to feed like three borrowers, however it would probably only fill him for one sitting with his appetite.

He sighed. I can go a day without food, it's wouldn't be the first time, and it won't be the last...

Jon's little nest was only reachable through climbing, so he was mostly safe from anything that tried to hurt him.

He curled up in his "bed". Feeling sadness well up inside, overflowing out of his eyes. He missed his home, the comfortable bed and nest, the safety he had from not being by himself.

I miss mom and dad.

Jon let out quiet whimpers, gently hugging his scarf and stuffed toy to his chest, almost protectively. He eventually fell asleep, into a dream filled sleep.

End part 2

[rebelband]

S192U3G5A5XXR — ❛ SOUR; ( it | they | she ) CHECK :: the logical one. sounds like a steady rhythm.

「💛」 ⑄ BASIC PROFILE ⑄

sweet’s "younger” twin (they’re the same) | agender | aro-ace (repulsed) | INTJ “right” speaker (actually the left one) | engineer | independent freelancer

Laidback and reserved; often allowed Sweet to lead and set the pace in its childhood (though they did occasionally cause mischief... for fun and attention, mostly). The pair were wandering speakers that did the occasional audio/advertisement gig alongside pilfering scrap for money. They lacked a place to consider “home,” but at the least, the two had each other.

While they both originate from the device name SUGAR, they have adopted their current pseudonyms after running through a list of duo words. Spice was discarded in favor of keeping their original name under wraps. Sweet was simply... from 19235XX. S-W-E-E-[T]. Left to right, Sweet-and-Sour. (If you arrange them the way they should be, they would become Bitter-Sweet though.)

(Not necessarily a no-nonsense robot, but like Sweet, it won’t understand a fair amount of jokes. The type to want to ask a lot of questions but simply. Does not.)

They eventually grew apart from each other in their Darkner Teen Years^TM in order to pursue their own paths while still maintaining a line of communication. Sweet a musician/performer; Sour a middle-man technician/smith-combo.

In pursuit of a Darkner to better work the sound in her Mansion, Queen had picked up Sweet almost by chance. Contact became more infrequent here, but the speakers still checked up on each other through the seldom correspondence. ⠀ * Sour is not the sort to miss a letter or delay a response, nor was there any “email interference” from any third parties. * ...Sour also could never attend a venue directly as she would not know where to place their positive feelings. It does not express itself very well and is, to themself, a rather socially inept robot... ⠀

Contact recontinued post-surge as soon as Sour got word that the Swt-Cpn-Cks trio had left her service for confidential reasons. By this point, it became a matter of updating each other (and reconnecting, in their own way) as colleagues in The Resistance. * Sour drops by mostly to check on Sweet and its band, always on some form of business-basis. Dropping by and leaving certain parts. Setting up some new connections. Purchasing scrap for resale and/or salvaging and the like. * She does not linger around often for safety reasons and goes under the alias [Siren], much like how [S-C-C] fell under: [C-T-A] → Bass [C]lef, [T]reble Clef, Fermat[A] → [Call-to-Action]. ⠀

Sour has, on occasion, been mistaken for Sweet. Mostly by Cap’n, but he learns after the first few times given their cold feedback response of nothing (due to taking its sweet time trying to figure out an appropriate response before ultimately extracting itself from the situation), unlike his bandmate’s usual temper/easy reply.

⠀

「💜」 ⑄ FRAME AND SYSTEMS (appearance) ⑄

[ * Palette and other features are inspired by the designer’s concept art B for Sweet. ]

Its chassis is decorated in the occasional stray scar left from fights and general mishaps. No apparent major external wounds. As Sweet and Sour are a pair of external speakers of the same model-brand, its back holds the panel with information regarding their S/N and miscellaneous. Oil stains are a given. Sour has a few extra studs (...for aesthetics) and a more square-like optical, antenna purposed for its main line of work.

The two speakers share the same circle-dot palms and internal wirings. Notable modifications are as follows... Left arm has been altered with sharper fingertips/claws, two tubes added as faux-veins to assist in both coolant transfer and magic channeling. Same concept has been applied to the rings upon right glove as additional magical reserves. Fingertips have padding, serving as a conduit among other. Things. And such.

⠀

「🤍」 ⑄ MISCELLANEOUS INFO SHARE ⑄

Well-versed in technology. Rather—very interested in it! Enjoys dismantling and reassembling, but mostly the “how” in something works.

While Sweet excels in using a hammer and has its own magical expertise, Sour performs better in amplifying and fine-tuning its magic for efficiency. Setting traps. Planning. Patterns. Adapting to the environment; it’s a methodical process, and it does its best not to be predictable, let alone ill-prepared.

(Together, they are menaces. But that’s just expected isn’t it? Hammer buddies...)

⠀

On another note, Sour is rather fond of Bell (Rebel Plugboy). Clicks well in a chill-vibes-interactions sort of way, though perhaps that’s due to both of them being a bit more hesitant in conversation. Was the one to know about Bell seeking the rebels and gave it a nod towards the base’s direction a few times.

...Given how that went, these two had taken to a different line of work, in a way. (The experimentation and observation of transformation.)

To put it short anyways.

[linnienin]

Asteroid Sirene in Elvis Presley's chart

Ok, i have to share this with you now cause...

I didn't think of researching on male's birth charts when looking for asteroid Sirene, but, i wanted to casually trying to find where that asteroid was in Elvis Presley's natal chart and oh boy

He has it in Sagittarius 1st house conjunct AC, square Neptune

Like.. i was shook

Now I know why he was just so mesmerizing to watch and such a seductive man (without even trying!)

And hell yeah, he knew how to move his body

[jugandbettsdetectiveagency]

please tell me you're writing something for this episode

(bc @heartunsettledsoul told me her headcanon and i said more angst 😈)

Nancy, his first instinct says. Call Nancy.

Because he’s got a problem and that’s what Nancy does—she solves his problems. She makes things better.

Ace’s hands are hovering, fingers curled inwards, just below his sternum. They feel empty and weighted all at once. Full of things he couldn’t say fast enough. Stunned, and speechless, and… barely even surprised.

It’s been a long time since he heard his dad yell.

The double chirp of a departing siren knocks him back to earth. His stomach doesn’t stop and falls to his feet, an acidic warmth churning in its depths. There’s a click in his jaw when he closes his mouth, his tongue thick and dry like it’s coated in dust.

Nancy’s busy. She’s got her own stuff going on.

However true he knows that to be, it’s not enough to stop his hand from pulling his phone out of his pocket.

There’s a moment's hesitation as his thumb hovers over her name.

Out of all the things Nancy has given him over the time he’s come to know her, a sense of belonging is by far the strongest. Somewhere to come back to when everything else felt adrift.

The phone rings, repetitive and continuous, in his ear.

Ace paces a tight square outside the library doors. If he stops he’ll hang up, or panic, or realise that his limbs aren’t really attached to his body anymore, and he’s just a tangle of nerves and useless pieces that don’t fit back together right.

“This is Nancy, I can’t get to the phone right now but leave a message and I’ll return it when I can.”

His vision clouds with the fog of his exhale. He’ll just hang up. He won’t leave a message, won’t worry her just—

“Hey, Nancy,” he says, ducking his head against the cold bite of the evening air, like if he tucks himself inward no one can see him. “Just me.”

His next inhale stutters in his throat. “Not a big deal I’m just… I kinda thought it would be best if I… If after everything that’s gone down with, um…” He doesn’t know why he’s trying to lie to her. She’ll see right through him in an instant. “My dad has told me to find somewhere else to live for a while. It’s okay,” he says, even though it isn’t, just because he needs Nancy to think it is, “but I’m just at a bit of a loss, so. Yeah, don’t worry, I’ll… I’ll figure it out. Alright. Bye.”

He finds his way back to Ryan’s car eventually. He needs to return this. He needs to return it when Carson isn’t home, either.

For a fleeting second, the length of a blink, Ace imagines it.

Pulling into the driveway at the Drew house. Pushing open the door without knocking. Settling into the couch cushions like he’s a fixture, warm, and wanted.

His phone vibrates against his thigh.

Call Nick. I’ll be there as soon as I can.

His breath shakes.

Because Nancy fixes things. Because Nancy made him belong.

[spicycreativity]

Good Omens but Make It Moceit (unfinished)

I said I would do it and I tried very, very hard but it's not looking like I'm going to be able to finish because ✨mental health reasons✨

Here's what I have so far (about 8k words)

EDEN

It is a little-known theological fact that the invention of the hypothetical coincided nearly perfectly with the invention of the thunderstorm, the latter being a rather effable invention of God, all things considered, and the former springing forth from the troubled mind of Phaedaël, the angel of the Eastern gate. The first drops of rain pattered to the ground and he curved one wing upward to protect his head. Addressing his companion, he said, "I'm sorry, but I don't think I should be talking to you."

"Oh, and what a shame," cooed the serpent, who hadn't yet chosen a name, "and here I was so hoping you'd wring the details out of me."

"Oh," said the angel, considering this. He shifted uncomfortably, and made a face like he'd just been forced to swallow something bitter. "Well… What did you say to her?"

"Don't patronize me," said the serpent. He paused. "I don't suppose you could enlighten me, angel, on what's so bad about knowing the difference between good and evil?"

"They broke the rules," said the angel firmly.

"I don't suppose it matters that the rule was arbitrary?" The angel drew in a breath to reply, but the serpent cut him off, looking him up and down suddenly as though seeing him for the first time. A sly smile tugged at his lips. "Lose something?"

"No!" said the angel, far too quickly.

"Oh, come on. Lying doesn't become an angel."

"It's not a lie!" the angel insisted.

"Well, then. Please do tell me what happened to that flaming sword of yours."

The rain began to fall in earnest. A thunderclap sounded overhead. The angel said, "What if you had an opportunity to help someone--"

"What if?" repeated the serpent incredulously.

"What if," persisted the angel, "someone could benefit from something you were supposed to have, but weren't really using?"

The serpent began to laugh. "Don't tell me you gave it--" he gestured into the distance-- "to them?" A few more hysterical cackles escaped his chest, but he swallowed the rest down at the anguished look on the angel's face. "Oh, relax. If you did it, it can't have been bad, can it? Angels don't do bad."

"And demons don't do good?" the angel looked at the serpent with uncertainty.

"Oh, yes," purred the serpent, "we're wicked to the core."

The angel went silent, considering this.

The thunder roared, the rain came down harder, the serpent remained, and the angel very gently lifted his other wing to keep his companion dry.

Who, after all, prayed for the Devil?

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

God (God)

Logan (Patton's overseer)

Satan (A Fallen Angel; The Fallen Angel, one might say)

Remus (Janus' overseer)

Janus (An angel who did not so much fall as back away muttering "I'm really going to do it this time; no one try to stop me")

Roman (a lover)

Virgil (an Antichrist)

Dog (hellhound, hellraiser, and sleeping partner)

21 YEARS AGO

In the Valendale Regional Military Cemetery lurked a demon.

Well, he lurked as best as he was able, given that the ambiance was all off for lurking. He had fudged the timing a little, being unaccustomed to the nature of the passage of time on Earth, and had accidentally arrived just in time to witness a beautiful sunrise over Florida's eastern coast. Half the sky was a magnificent golden ocean with waves of orange and pink. The military cemetery had also been a mistake, though this one bothered him less. While he had been hoping for something a little more ancient and decrepit, he soon began to console himself by playing hopscotch on the clean, flat grave markers, delighting in the muddy bootprints he left behind him.

Besides, he liked the way 'military cemetery' rolled off the tongue.

When he inevitably got bored of desecrating graves, he threw himself down in the grass and began to look for worms and bugs with which he might decorate his uniform.

This was Remus, a Duke of Hell.

He found a worm and began to speak to it, watching it writhe around in his palm. "I'm so bored."

He spent a good few seconds coming up with a voice to use to represent the worm, then asked himself in a high-pitched squeak, "Why's that, your

Grace?"

Remus cupped the worm in his hands and rolled over, nearly kicking the basket he'd brought with him. This bothered him less than it rightfully should have, considering what was inside. He only gave a blithe "Oops!" and returned his attention to the worm. "That little subordinate of mine is making me wait!"

The worm said, "You should punish him!"

"Good idea!" Remus exclaimed, stroking the worm with his fingertip. "What do you think, should I spank him? Make him kiss my boots? Or--" He cut himself off, having just caught sight of flashing red and blue lights in the near distance. Sirens had been echoing on and off throughout the night, but they were very near now. "There's my bitch!" he said with undisguised affection. He put the worm in his pocket and stood up.

The Interstate Highway System was ostensibly developed under the command of United States President Dwight D Eisenhower in order to facilitate the movement of personal use vehicles, public transportation vehicles, and self-propelled field artillery across the country. This project, as anyone who has ever attempted to traverse the Interstate Highway System can tell you, was a catastrophic failure. The criss-crossing network of freeways, highways, turnpikes, and byways is frequently backed up with bumper-to-bumper traffic.

What most hapless travelers of the Interstate Highway System do not know is that the cloverleaf interchange, one of the most commonly-used interchanges in city planning, is also the exact same shape as the sigil det in the written language of the Church of the Black Clock. Written correctly, it means "black fire upon my enemies, devour their souls!" (Note: Written incorrectly, it reads "kneel, gay men.") Every day, commuters slow traffic via their own ill-wishes on fellow drivers, granted life by the sigil. (It is a known fact that every driver on the freeway considers every other driver on the freeway an enemy).

It was one of Janus' most diabolical achievements. He was quite proud of himself, not only in the end result but in his methods. While a lesser demon might have had to go to the trouble of hands-on work: hacking computers, making bribes, and, Satan-forbid, possibly even sneaking out at night to move marker pegs by hand, all Janus had had to do was talk. He was quite good at getting people to do his bidding once he got his foot in the door.

Something Janus had inexplicably failed to account for was the fact that he, too, would occasionally need to use the freeway system. Such was the curse of Janus' great evil deeds: more often than not, they slalomed between his legs like a wily terrier and bit him squarely on the ass.

The irony snuck up on him sometimes.

Janus had dark hair and high cheekbones. His eyes and tongue were really only unusual if you looked at them twice, and he had a tendency to hiss when he forgot himself. He looked far too young, far too handsome, and far too svelte for the 1957 Cadillac Deville he was driving, bearing no resemblance at all to the sort of wealthy, elderly man who deals in classic cars.

He checked his watch, which also seemed too old for him, and glanced at the rearview mirror. Normally he enjoyed the minor thrill of having cops on his tail, but his exit was coming up and he did have someplace to be.

What he did next lacked imagination, but it got the job done: With one complicated hand gesture, he turned both officers into pigs and gently glided their cars to the shoulder. Then he turned on his blinker and took his exit.

Remus watched the police lights disappear  with impassivity, bouncing on his toes. When Janus finally emerged through the wrought iron gates, having bent reality to get past them, he raised his arms and shouted, "Hail Satan!"

Janus acknowledged this with two lifted fingers. "So sorry I'm late," he said, bringing his hand smoothly upward to tip his hat, "it's just that I don't value your time in comparison to mine." The sarcastic inflection was so light the words could very well be sincere. But of course Janus always meant every word of what he'd said. (Now that's

sarcastic inflection)!

Remus gave a feral grin. Janus was his favorite subordinate. "Wanna see my worm?"

Millennia of acquaintanceship had freed Janus from the notion that he needed to be polite to Remus. The demon was as twisted as they came and nearly immune to flattery. "As much as I'd love to, shouldn't we get this over with?"

"Yeah, yeah." Remus looked around. "Hm, now where did I put the basket?"

The basket was currently sitting atop the headstone for a General T. Pratchett. Janus spied it first and indicated it to Remus with a flicker of his yellow irises, careful not to let a trace of his hesitancy show on his face. He didn't even let himself hesitate when Remus, who had hopscotched over to the basket and then back over to Janus, thrust it out to him.

"So this is really it," Janus murmured, wrapping both gloved hands around the handle of the basket. Then he began to work. "What a high honor."

"So they say," Remus said.

"Remus, be honest with me." Brief pause, just enough for Remus to wonder at the weight in Janus' voice. "Did you pull some strings to ensure I was the one who got this task? Do I owe you a favor?"

"Are you about to thank me?" Remus asked, tilting his head. Addressing the worm in his breast pocket, he said, "Listen up, this should be good."

"So you did?"

"Of course not."

Here it was. After a few seconds of rallying, his ace: "So why me?"

"You've been in the field the longest." Remus' grin widened to an impossible degree and he grabbed Janus by the lapels of his immaculate suit jacket, coming nose to nose. "Some of us think you're getting soft."

Janus smiled back, the unblinking predator's grin of a snake about to strike, and hefted the basket. "We'll see about that." And he extricated his lapels from Remus' grasp and turned to leave.

"You didn't say hi to my worm!" Remus called after him. Janus did not reply. Remus fished the worm out of his pocket. "How rude."

"The nerve of some demons," agreed the worm.

The Cadillac's speedometer hit 110. Janus fumbled for the volume knob with a shaking hand. The radio was permanently set to 98.5 The Jukebox, which only ever seemed to play Queen.

"Shit," Janus muttered as majestic panned harmonies began to emanate from his speakers. "Shit-shit-shit. Why now? Why me?"

BECAUSE, came the harmonic vocals, YOU'VE EARNED IT.

Janus bit down on his tongue to keep from swearing. Communication via electronics had been another one of his ideas, hoping he'd be issued a BlackBerry or a Nokia. But no. Instead, upper management just cut into whatever he was listening to at the time and twisted it. "Thank you very much, my lord," he said, working very very hard to instill his voice with the proper amount of unctuous ooze.

THIS IS IMPORTANT, JANUS.

"Yes, my lord."

THIS IS THE BIG ONE.

"Yes, my lord."

AND YOU UNDERSTAND, JANUS, THAT IF THIS GOES WRONG, EVERYONE INVOLVED WILL BE PUNISHED. EVEN YOU. ESPECIALLY YOU.

"I understand."

GOOD. YOUR INSTRUCTIONS.

And suddenly, he just knew. A new Queen song began to play on 98.5 The Jukebox, and Janus hissed and slammed the heel of his hand against the steering wheel. "What was the point of all that, then?" he demanded of Freddie Mercury.

Freddie Mercury replied, "Don't stop me now! 'Cause I'm havin' a good time!"

Janus rolled his eyes and changed lanes without signaling. He had been instructed to head straight to a hospital on the edge of town. It was technically in an unincorporated community called Misty, but for all intents and purposes, Misty was Valendale. If he kept up this pace (the needle of the speedometer now closer to 130), he could be there in five minutes. Joy.

It had all been going so well, too. He'd really hit his stride in the 21st century, and now here was Hell pulling the rug out from under his shiny Armani brogues. Armageddon. What a nightmare.

In the Publix baking aisle, two angels stood side by side. One of them was Phaedaël, who had lately adopted the name 'Patton,' feeling it suited his corporation.

The other had been christened 'Loirea' once upon a time. As Heaven began to

modernize, Loirea had been the first among the angels to adapt to the changes being made. He had even taken on the name 'Logan' as a show of good faith. 

Both of the angels were human-shaped, having discovered early on that it's much easier to get things done when you have limbs as opposed to flaming wheels of eyes and animal heads poking out at odd angles.

Both wore glasses. Patton's glasses were round, wire-rimmed things, of the sort usually found on kindly old librarians and stern but fair headmasters of all-boy's boarding schools. Logan's glasses were made of shiny black plastic and looked like they could draw blood if strategically applied to a sufficiently tender area.

Patton was, at the moment, holding a bag a semolina flour under one arm and awkwardly attempting to explain himself. "It's called 'cooking.' It's actually really clever, you take ingredients and combine them--"

"Why?" Logan interrupted 

"Oh, uh, well," Patton hesitated, shamefaced, "it makes food."

"Eating," Logan said in such a forceful tone of dismissal that three boxes of brownie mix turned to ash behind him. "I don't understand why you waste your time."

"It helps me blend in," Patton said with a sheepish smile. Everything from his shoes to his shirt was a shade of white or blue; he'd never been comfortable dealing in gray areas.

"I see." Logan adjusted his tie. "Well, I'll let you get back to it in a moment. I just came to pass on a message: Our intel has given us reason to believe that Armageddon is underway."

"Oh," said Patton vaguely, staring at a bag of something labeled 'pasta flour.' "Oh!"

"We'd like for you to keep an eye on Janus. He's a demon; he's on a similar mission to yours."

"I, uh," Patton swallowed hard, staring right through the pasta flour, "I've heard of him."

"Good." Logan put his hand on Patton's shoulder and looked him dead in the eye. "Patton."

"Y-yes?"

"When I say 'keep an eye on' I mean I want you to watch him. It's a figure of speech."

Patton nodded, forcing his mouth to curve into a pale imitation of a smile. Logan nodded back and vanished.

"Well," Patton said to the pasta flour, "fiddlesticks."

Brother Emile Analogical had been raised a Satanist. There is no such thing as an orthodox Satanist, but if there was, that would be the kind of Satanism that Brother Emile's parents had practiced. He had graduated with unspectacular grades, joined the Paralleling Order of Saint Botild, and promptly moved from Nebraska to Florida: more specifically, to the unincorporated community of Misty in the greater Valendale area. The climate had taken some getting used to, not to mention the long, black robes he had to wear, but he had survived the transition and found himself a good fit for the Paralleling Order.

Note: Saint Botild Comminalitus of Malmö was reputed to have been martyred in the middle of the fifth century, for reasons unclear. It is said that the Lord granted him the power to draw parallels and connections between topics; his last words are reported to have been "This reminds me of that one story about Loptr, when he--" Then his assailants lit the pyre.

At the moment, Brother Emile was thinking about the tall, dark figure stalking down the hallways at him holding a basket, likening him to a Scooby-Doo villain, the way the shadows seemed to stick to him.

"Jinkies!" said Brother Emile once the figure was in earshot.

Janus raised an eyebrow at him over the tops of his sunglasses. "Hello."

Unphased by the cold greeting, Brother Emile pointed to the basket. "Is that the fairly odd baby?" he asked in a high-pitched coo that indicated he already suspected the answer.

"No," said Janus, rolling his eyes. "It's a basket of kittens I saved from drowning. Aren't you wondering why I'm all wet?"

"You're," Brother Emile started, and Janus braced himself, fearing the last frayed thread of his patience might snap if the sentence ended with the word 'dry,' "a Mister Grumpy Gills, aren't you?'

Janus thrust the basket at Brother Emile and did not dignify him with any answer more notable than a slight thinning of

his lips.

Brother Emile drew back the blankets and began to babble at the sleeping Antichrist. Janus took the opportunity to flee.

"Look at you," Brother Emile said happily. "Sleeping in a pic-a-nic basket, huh, Boo-boo?"

After a few more moments of cooing, babytalk, and Boomerang references, he remembered himself and found a wheeled bassinet for the baby Antichrist. 

There is a game, common among carnies and street magicians in which a ball is hidden under cups and shuffled around. Unbeknownst to himself, the two sets of new parents, and all the friars at St Botild's, Brother Emile Analogical was about to become a mark.

And Hell had had nothing to do with it.

same rate, and good and evil had a knack for balancing themselves out in the grand scheme of things. And this left Janus and Patton free to pursue other passions, which somehow resulted in the two of them spending a great deal of time in each other's company.

silence. "It's not even that I disagree with you," he said apologetically. "It's just, well, you know, I'm not allowed to disobey."

his hazelnut hot chocolate. "What's a shame?"

Janus nodded. "Roman Dowling."

Roman was about to turn 21, and lived his life according to the belief that everyone over the age of 30 was, in some degree, an 'elder').

wanna do that."

"Roman!"

people; every social interaction, no matter how minor, always kept his body as tense as wire.

[lisbonsteresa]

We Keep This Love (In a Photograph) (Nancy x Ace)

The first time he finds the photo is the day after the food festival. 

He arrives at the Claw late, rushing to shove his jacket into his locker and get to the kitchen before George notices his absence, when something crinkles unexpectedly in the pocket. Reaching in, he pulls out the polaroid - a bit wrinkled, the right corner completely folded over - but still in one piece even after the events of the day before. He stares at it for a moment, crouching in front of his open locker, trying to recall when he had acted on the impulse to grab it off the coffee table in their rush to leave, and before he can stop to realize what he’s doing he’s studying the picture’s subject instead. Hair falling into her eyes, dirt from the tunnels still smeared across her face, her features set in an expression of determined focus as she dug into the box of files Carson had procured for her, still looking so perfectly…Nancy. A small grin crosses his face as he remembers her amused reaction to the flash of the camera turning into a sincere smile as Carson told her how proud of her he was - Because of her testimony. The grin drops off his face as the memories of the rest of the day rush back into sharp focus. The sense of uselessness he’d felt as he’d dangled from that railing and watched his life be traded for the lives of countless others; the terrifying amount of finality he’d heard in her ‘I couldn’t lose you.’; the way there was no doubt in his mind about what “favor” Celia had asked for in return - a favor that for all he knows Nancy could be fulfilling right this moment. 

As if summoned by his own despondent thoughts, the door to the storeroom suddenly bursts open and Nancy rushes in, her coat hanging off of one arm as she fastens her hair into a hurried bun. Her mad dash stops short upon seeing him, and as their eyes meet he’s suddenly overwhelmed by all the things he wants to say to her; all the things he held back the day before while Grant was around. The questions of  ‘How could you -’ and ‘Why would you -’ and the arguments starting with ‘This will ruin your -’ and ‘I’m not worth -’ cycle around each other in his mind, and he can tell that something’s about to slip out his mouth but he can’t make the connection between them to know what it’ll be - And then suddenly he doesn’t have to. George’s annoyed voice rings out from the kitchen, and he’s never heard the phrase ‘saved by the boss’ before, but after this he might consider adopting it. He quickly crumples the photo into a ball and tosses it into his locker, following it with his jacket as if burying the image would help him bury the feelings it brought up. He gives Nancy a curt nod, avoiding whatever he might have seen in her eyes as he turns and heads towards the stairs, knowing there was a difference between delaying something and running away from it, but not quite sure which side this was falling on.

——————————————————————

It’s several months before he sees it again. Long enough for Everett Hudson’s first case to be declared a mistrial due to jury tampering, and for the time between it and his retrial to be just enough to allow Nick and Ryan to find a smoking gun hidden in Tiffany’s files that put the Hudson patriarch away for his full sentence (officially, at least). Long enough for Amanda to turn to him on her doorstep two weeks after the trial and tell him that she and Gil were leaving - finally following up on his lead in Santa Fe. There were kisses goodbye and offers to help in any way he could, but they both agreed it would be better for her to focus on finding her mother, and at this point it’s been long enough that he’s starting to feel like he’s doing okay after the breakup. He’s starting to feel like everything’s back to…whatever passes for normal in Horseshoe Bay. At least, he is until Nancy announces - midway through George’s mandated After Hours End-of-Summer-Cleaning Locker Inspection, no less - that she’s gotten into Columbia. 

His hand had just closed around a crumpled ball of paper in the back of his locker when the words leave her mouth, and the ball stays in his hand even as he joins in on the group hug an ecstatic Bess initiates; as he tells Nancy how happy he is for her; as he reassures George that he’ll close up so she can ride with Nick to the celebration he’s sure Carson has planned for Nancy back at their place. 

It isn’t until he’s left alone in the storeroom and he drops down onto the bench in front of his locker that he notices how tightly he’s been gripping the paper. Or the…not paper, he corrects himself as he notices the different texture of whatever he was holding. A sneaking suspicion comes from the back of his mind as he starts to smooth out the ball, and once the image is revealed in full - slightly faded with the right corner ripping off altogether after he pulls a bit too hard -  he has to fight the urge to crumple the photo again and toss it into the trash. 

Which is a weird impulse, isn’t it? Because he was happy for her, of course he was. This was Nancy’s dream school, after all, and after the year that she’s had, doesn’t she deserve to do what makes her happy? To move on with her - His thoughts stutter to a stop. He shakes his head and tries again. After all, hasn’t he - haven’t they all - known this was coming, sooner or later? Hasn’t he known from the start that Nancy was meant for bigger and better things? That she wasn’t going to hang around forever, not in this nowhere small town, with her ragtag group of friends and the dishwasher who’s been at a standstill since high school -

He’s being unfair, he knows. Because Nancy doesn’t see it, any of it, like that. He knows how much Nancy cares; about Horseshoe Bay, about her friends…about him. She’d told him as much during the countless knock-down-drag-out arguments they’d had after the incident at the paper mill, hadn’t she? But he can feel annoyance - or maybe even anger -  rising up inside him, and if he doesn’t deflect it towards her, then he’ll have to confront himself, and he’s been avoiding that confrontation for months now. He’d have to actually think about why he’s been keeping Nancy at arm’s length even after they’d both said their piece during those arguments. Why he’d been so insistent that they’d ‘gotten back to normal’ when he honestly wasn’t sure he had any idea of what ‘normal’ was for them. It certainly wasn’t the way she’d avoided his eyes when he’d congratulated her, but he wasn’t sure it was the way she had held onto his hand long after everyone else had left their hug either. He’d have to actually think about how he’d wasted so much time pretending there wasn’t still something to fix between them, and how he didn’t know what to feel now that he’s realized they’ve run out of time anyway.

When Amanda had left, it had felt like they were mutually closing a door - calm and maybe a little sad, but with both of them smiling and understanding on their respective sides. Knowing that Nancy was leaving felt like having to struggle with a door against hurricane-level winds, without a clue of what side he wanted to be on once he finally got it closed. But maybe that’s not a fair comparison to make, he rationalizes. After all, he and Amanda were together. He and Nancy have just been…  He looks back down at the polaroid, his thumb running along the torn edge as he considers just what exactly he and Nancy have been, before dragging a hand through his hair with a sigh. Too late to figure it out now, anyway.

He leans forward and slips the photo between the pages of a library book already overdue by a year at the bottom of his locker. So he’ll have something to remember her by, he tells himself, unsure if the unpleasant feeling that settles in his gut as he slams the locker shut is bitterness or just plain sadness.

——————————————————————

Life goes on in Horseshoe Bay, even without Nancy Drew. It’s not until late fall when he sees the photo again. He’s helping George and Nick with the Claw’s first official Allhallowtide event, spending his day helping kids decorate their lanterns whenever he’s not hyping Bess up over text for her ‘very preliminary, very probational, very terrifying!!!!!’ (her exclamation points, not his) first in-person meeting with Aunt Diana since she’d started slowly rebuilding their relationship. 

He’s sitting on the steps leading into the storeroom after one of their longer text exchanges, laughing when George calls out for him to make himself useful and find more markers, but he rises to follow her instructions anyway. It takes him all of 5 minutes to realize that they are completely marker-free, digging through every drawer and pencil holder in the room and coming up with nothing, before he remembers the pack of Crayolas he’s pretty sure survived his last locker clean-out. 

He unloads his jacket, a few books, and the jumbo pack of earplugs he’s been drawing from ever since that siren incident three weeks ago onto the bench to make it easier to find the markers, but the earplugs overbalance the books and everything comes toppling down before he can even look through what’s left in the locker. 

With a sigh, he leans over and picks up the old library book that fell face-down, watching curiously as a square of paper drops out from between the pages and back down onto the floor. A catalogue card, he wonders, or maybe a note someone stashed and forgot about? But as he picks it up and sees the torn right corner, he realizes that not only is it not regular paper, but that he knows exactly what he’s going to see before he flips the item over. 

A shock runs through him all the same once he does, seeing Nancy’s face for the first time in months. He doesn’t have more than a moment to think about that though, as his phone erupts with seven text tones in rapid succession at the same time George’s shouts for him to hurry up reach the storeroom. After a tiny moment of hesitation, he slides the polaroid into his back pocket and shoves everything else back into the locker before making his way back to the dining room, marker-less and contrite. 

That was a mistake. He spends the rest of the day hyperaware of what he’s holding onto, patting his pocket for reassurance it hasn’t slipped out so many times that one of Ted’s friends asks him - with all the seriousness a 9-year old can muster - if he is also suffering from the ‘wedgie-saurus’. 

It isn’t until that night, after he insists that he’ll close up the Claw so Nick and George can stay with her sisters at the lantern-lighting event, that he has a moment alone to actually look at the picture. He straddles the storeroom bench, placing it down in front of him and resting his elbows on his knees so he can lean in close as a sudden wave of guilt hits him. He remembers the way their text conversations had petered out after long stretches of one-word or emoji-only replies; the way her calls had slowly become less and less frequent until they stopped altogether. He still gets weird looks from the others when he makes excuses to avoid their video calls with her; can still hear Bess’s overly-sympathetic voice after she’d spent a long weekend in New York telling him that everything was fine, that Nancy just misses him.

He misses her too; of course he does. Some days he misses her so much the ache of it catches him by surprise. Like when he'd realized his habit of watching the door for the first ten minutes of every shift, still expecting her to rush through it with her name tag missing and an excuse at the ready. When he made a Big Lebowski reference at dinner one night and got nothing other than a confused smile from his mother in response. When he was researching something at the end of the bar and felt a phantom presence at his shoulder, like she was just outside his peripheral, leaning up against him and waiting impatiently for him to turn towards her and give her the answer she was looking for. 

It didn’t seem possible for someone he’d known for barely a year to have become such a big part of every aspect of his life, but everywhere he’s turned for months there seems to be another reminder of Nancy Drew.

And that just makes everything worse. Because he hadn’t been able to give her the answers she might have needed before she left. And now, now that he’s had the time to figure those answers out, now that they kept him up at night, running endlessly through his head while he stares dejectedly at the ceiling, he doesn’t know if they’re still the same answers she was looking for now. And he’s terrified by the thought that they might not be. He’s gotten himself caught in a mystery he doesn’t know how to solve on his own.

But maybe… His thoughts are interrupted by the chime of the clock hanging above the back door, and he starts when he realizes nearly an hour has passed since he first sat down. Glancing at the photo again, he waits for the urge to tuck it back between the pages of that book; to push his feelings down and avoid having to confront them, but it doesn’t come. 

Something else clicks into place with the last chime of the clock, and holding the polaroid in one hand, he unlocks his phone with the other, ignoring Bess’s 5 recap and 2 goodnight texts for the moment while he taps the contact info for the only other person he’s sure will be awake at midnight on a Tuesday. 

She picks up on the first ring. “Ace?” 

Her voice sounds tired, maybe even a little worried, but so deeply familiar his heart jumps into his throat just at the sound of her saying his name. “Hey, Nancy.” he begins, unable to hold back a small smile as he looks down at her picture. “Can we talk?”

Maybe he doesn’t have to solve this one alone.

Maybe neither of them do.

——————————————————————

Nancy’s bright hair makes her easy to spot, even from his position across the train platform. He watches as she peers through the crowd, noticing him with a grin and a tiny wave, before he pushes off from the wall and starts to make his way over to meet her. 

He’d practically had to fight Ryan to be the one picking her up, he imagines telling her as she laughs. The man had been ready to push him down in the driveway until Carson had stepped in to - heavily, mind you - imply that maybe Nancy and Ace could use a little ‘alone time’. 

That part he might keep to himself, actually. It was bad enough that Carson acted like he was in on some big secret every time he got off the phone with his daughter; he didn’t need her wondering why both her father figures were trading smug smiles every time the four of them were in a room together. 

He realizes too late that he’d gotten caught up in his thoughts and that Nancy was suddenly standing less than a foot away from him. “Hi.” he murmurs, the memory of their last - somewhat awkward - reunion tugging at the back of his mind. (He almost wished his arm was still in a sling. Then at least he’d only have to worry about what to do with one of his hands).

“Hi.” she replies in the same tone, her own hands twisting nervously in the strap of her bag, but a beaming smile on her face. It was the same smile he’d seen during their almost daily video calls for the past month and a half, but he hadn’t thought to prepare for the way it makes his heart flip to see it directed at him, live and in person.

“H-how’s Columbia?” he manages to only stumble over the first word, but it doesn’t really seem to matter because suddenly Nancy’s dropped her luggage and launched herself at him, throwing her arms around his neck and clinging to him while his arms instinctively wrap around her, pulling her closer still as he breathes in the fact that this is really happening, that it’s not a dream he’s going to wake up from to find the calendar mockingly reminding him there was another three days until her holiday break started.

He’s not sure how long they stay there, wrapped up in each other while the rest of the world moves around them, but when they finally pull away he knows his smile is as bright as hers. There’s a lot they still have to share - he hasn’t told her about his first day interning with John Sander yet, and she has a copy of the Daily Spectator with her first front page article stowed safely in her bag - and a lot - the distance, their schedules, missing each other - that they still have to figure out. But as he holds out his hand and Nancy takes it in hers, intertwining their fingers as if it was the most natural thing in the world, Ace can’t find it in himself to worry. 

Whatever happens, they’ll figure out a way to solve it. Together.

——————————————————————

(She finds the photo less than a week later; sees it hanging on the inside of his locker when she stops by the Claw to help them decorate for the holidays. Bess is beside herself at somehow being one of the last to know, but Ace can’t really focus on anything other than the look in Nancy’s eyes as she pulls him in for a kiss.)

[halinski]

I have a lot of feelings about Buck, like don't even ask, I will never be able to put it into words or anything other than abstract feelings in this world

I just know this, Eddie loves Buck and Buck is ace and Taylor is a relapse ✌️

"You've been shutting me out."

It's ironic, Eddie thinks, that these exact words come now 20 minutes after the black out, which felt like maybe the world had shut down. They were stuck mid rescue in an elevator and well, the world had been such a whirlwind since he'd been shot, and this emergency and that- but now it had stopped. And they'd succumbed to their fate, sat down on the dingy elevator floor, bathed in a red back up light, the building silent around them. Out there, somewhere, a siren rang, and Buck sighed.

It was deep and heavy, like he was Atlas lifting the world off his shoulders for a break, something like relief, like that first deep shuddering breath when your lungs finally recovered from a run. It was way too heavy for a young man, barely thirty, who was finding himself. Eddie knew that Buck had been fighting lately. Mostly himself, but also his parents and past, and pushing past the boundaries of life that had been set around him. Then there was the shooting and Buck had truly been nerve-wrecked, Eddie was far from blind, and hell, he'd been a little preoccupied with figuring himself out, and recovering, letting go and paving the way for a future with no regrets- but he'd seen Buck. It was harder to look away at this point.

But he had, because the world had been spinning and Buck had been putting enough pressure on himself, becoming an uncle, and taking care of Chris with full abandon, and therapy and... Taylor. Eddie hadn't wanted to push too hard.

Now that they were here though, just the two of them...

Buck's looking at him, that irritated lost puppy stare, vulnerable and defiant all at once, like Eddie was the first to venture into certain spaces that made up Evan Buckley. It was a deliberant choice, at this point. Back in the beginning, he'd just reached out a hand and had been surprised to find an anchor to the world he'd never knew existed, and now he ventured further deliberately.

It hadn't been a question, and even so Buck looked ready to fight him, a last defensive wall, before he caved and those murky blue eyes dropped away. Full submission.

Eddie waited, opening up the room and hoping for his partner in crime and rescue to fill it and yet... Buck only shrugged weakly.

"Things have been..." He started half-heartedly, losing motivation half-way through and concluding with a disheartened, "busy." Eddie watched him busy himself with the callouses on his palm, picking and rubbing, as if he could erase the last few weeks of running himself ragged.

There had definitely been a lot less mentions of calls to Dr. Copeland lately, a lot of unfocused Buck, who was making himself smaller, less noticeable and quieter. Not that he was actually quiet, Eddie knew Buck could fill the building with vibrance for the benefit of everyone around within the blink of an eye. But his true emotions dwindled, where they'd slipped out before in shadows of an action, or an obvious plea hidden in drowning eyes - now he was more... Calculated.

And even now, Buck lifted his head again under Eddie's scrutiny in square-jawed surrender as if that was that to this conversation, there was nothing more to be done.

Eddie was not convinced. They'd gotten way too far, the two of them, to slip back down to the trenches in this mud slide. Eddie had found solid footing in his own world, and he was unafraid right here, under private eyes with the one person in the world he trusted most. Solid enough that he could stare right back at the nervous energy Buck was holding back and dare it.

What are you so afraid?

A question he had asked himself many sleepless nights, especially after Carla's little "follow your heart" speech, after he'd laid in bed, heart racing, hearing shots and all he wanted had been to-

All he'd wanted was safety, and he could've kept lying to himself, could've deliriously shouted at the universe that he didn't know where he could ever feel safe again, and yet his own body and heart had long gone betrayed him that day in the hospital just before he'd walked out, explicitly stating that he had signed his heart off to Buck a year ago. He couldn't even call it betrayal, because there wasn't a single cell in his body that doubted his decision, that doubted Buck. He just doubted... Himself.

And maybe that he'd be enough for Buck right now, still. He was so far from his best self, and yet better and more stable than he'd ever been. So he sat and he stared back, arms resting easily in his lap, and challenged.

"Why do you keep going back to her?"

Goddammit, Eddie, way to sound like the most jealous jerk in the world.

Buck winced, eyebrows seeming to ask 'really?' and 'what do you mean?' all at the same time and then shrugging again.

"Taylor?" He asked simply, biding time probably.

"Yeah," Eddie assured, the hum of the emergency light their only company as he waited for Buck to reply.

"She's the only one who really wants me," he said, but the tone of his voice wasn't right. Unconvinced. The admission to easily offered to ring true.

Eddie can't stop the snort of disbelief from escaping him. From all that he's heard about the rust-haired reporter... He couldn't imagine what Buck saw in her. He'd seen the effect of her words on him, saw Buck fall in line behind her with a bowed head, saw how the hurt now flared in Buck's face at his open faced challenge to that statement.

A part of Eddie wanted to grab Buck by the face and scream at him, can't you see?!

You're wanted whole-heartedly by me.

But Buck wasn't his to love yet, not really.

"Look, I don't know what you see on the outside but... She wants me. She chose me and I- what more could I ask for, you know? I'm... I'm working on it. On myself. And for now- this is it," Buck said, rattling it down like he was trying to work it into a checklist.

Eddie just wanted to know what 'it' was supposed to mean. But he nodded, because in a way it did make sense. The same way Ana had made sense, even though she absolutely didn't and he was glad that was over and he could laugh over that foolish affair now.

People had questioned his change of heart when he broke up with her during recovery, but when they'd realized he truly wasn't heartbroken and backsliding, they had taken it in full stride. A little misstep, no great scars taken (well except for the new bullet hole in his shoulder but that didn't really have anything to do with Ana, it just happened to be a part of the same journey heading toward a joined destination) and here they were at a pit stop.

The silence simmered between them, just somewhere right before the cliff, staggering before the precipice toward their comfort zone. It had always taken a little leap from both sides to get them to where they were today. Buck usually happens to fall into his without thinking much, just because he was ready to throw himself in dangers way or alternatively, rushing in out of sense of duty, and making it seem so, so very easy. The way he had walked into Eddie's house and kitchen, stepped right into his space and said: 'i'm here and I'm owning my mistakes because you're worth it' or something of the sort. All Eddie remembered was the care and the genuine emotion he'd felt and... The realization that he'd finally found home.

"It just feels like... You smile less when it comes to her." Eddie still did't really want to say her name. He wasn't about to go out blaming Taylor for all the times Buck was sad- it was just an observation. It took a lot to get Buck to giving up his smile. He hated that Taylor accepted a watered down version of him; bright, bold, and boasting Buck.

"Do I?" Buck asked, a furrowed crease appearing between his eyebrows, truly confused.

Eddie nodded.

"Relationships are always a compromise," Buck offered with a half-hearted twitch of his shoulder. "You know me. We're both pretty stubborn. We butt heads."

Buck flicked his wrist for a useless gaze at his watch. It made them none the wiser about the state of their rescue.

"Yeah, I know you," Eddie retorted gently. "Though, you do tend to have a point."

He could come up with a million examples. Eager, always ready to show up and make it work, Buck. How many times had he burrowed himself into Eddie's skin already with truths that stuck like thorns until Eddie accepted them into his bones.

All he wanted was to return the favor

The man granted him a small, crooked smile. It was crazy how much so little could mean to one person. Desperate, wounded, isolated Buck.

How Eddie wanted to tell him explicitly 'dont do what I did, kid, don't fall back into and habits at first chance just because you don't think you're worth anything else'- there were reasons why it didn't work in the first place. He'd learned the exact same lesson with Shannon. And God, the way Eddie had dragged Buck with him back then, for safety, as he had ranted to him and searched for the answers, only to make the same damn mistake.

That wasn't his life.

And Taylor wasn't Buck's. And Eddie knew this.

Knew from what Buck had told about her the first time she had been around, and from all that Eddie had heard about Buck's relationship to sex. It had turned into a joke at the station, oh, Buck and his self-diagnosed sex addiction, but Eddie recognized that worried little steeple on Bobby's forehead when he reminded everyone that that one therapist wasn't licensed to work for them anymore. But it went way deeper, didn't it?

Eddie knew about self-destructive behaviors. Not intimately. But he'd learned a lot about PTSD lately and adjacent behaviors. Buck and sex was a self-destructive bomb if he'd ever seen one.

And it was no coincidence that Taylor and Buck's relationship centered around physical intimacy.

Buck showed up where he was wanted or needed. They all knew that.

"Just... Make sure you get what you want too," Eddie said. "Put yourself first."

Cue the bewildered, insecure facial expression. Now and then Eddie wished he could hide Buck from the world. Shield him. For now all he could do was stand by.

"Because you'll always be wanted. Make sure the reasons are right for you. It has to be good for you."

And Eddie wouldn't be leaning so far out the window if Buck were to look him in the eyes and say 'nah it's not like that' but all he did was get quiet. Eddie couldn't leave him sitting like that, rearranging himself to stretch his legs out before they fell asleep and casually leaning his shoulder against Buck's.

"You're a good guy, Buck. You deserve only the best.

If you wanted Buck to hear you sometimes you had to get straight to the point.

Maybe one day Eddie could conquer his fear and say what he really wanted to say.

When they were both ready.

[lillywillow]

From Russia With Love

Summary: When Steve and Bucky investigate an old HYDRA base left over from World War II, they find something nobody could have ever predicted... A pilot from the legendary 588th night bomber regiment frozen in time.

 Word Count: 2117

 Square Filled: Military Base

 Pairings: Bucky x Female Reader

 Warnings: WWII warfare, slight angst

Written for @star-spangled-bingo

 Author’s Note: Although I will be using real historical people and events, some of the names and actions I will be using are fictional. The 588th night bomber regiment were an all female squadron from Russia in World War II. They were given hand-me-down men’s uniforms and poor, outdated equipment. Their planes were not designed for combat. The planes let out a whistle as it idled through the sky which the German’s thought sounded like a broomstick, giving them the nickname ‘Die Nachthexen’ or Night Witches.

 Germany, 1944. Three Polikarpov U-2 biplanes move silently through the night sky, their engines cut at the behest of the navigators. A soldier was making his rounds about the perimeter of the base when an unearthly scream pierced the air. A chill ran down his spine as he looked around. Suddenly, a shadow of a plane darkens the ground. The soldier abruptly realised what was happening.

 “Die Nachthexen!” he screamed. The base was rapidly brought to life with activity when the air raid siren wailed. Soldiers rushed to man the anti-aircraft guns as the Night Witches dropped the first bomb. Two of the planes broke formation to draw away the ground fire as the third dropped the next bomb. The last plane made a sharp turn and was able to drop the last bomb on the base. With their mission complete, the engines went back on and the planes headed home to Russia.

 Out of nowhere, a German fighter plane appeared. The biplanes were slower but their much smaller size gave them an advantage in the fact they had a tight turning ratio but for one plane, it wasn’t enough. One of the pilots cried out in pain as a bullet grazed her arm. The canvas wings of the plane were ablaze, there was no other option but to bring the plane down. The navigator held the pilot’s shoulders to steady her as they crashed into the ground.

 Dazed by the impact, the pilot held her head, feeling something wet and warm drip down her face. She turned behind her to check on her navigator whose head was slumped to her chest. She reached for her hand.

 “Yelena... I’m sorry...” Black spots swam in her vision before the darkness took over.

...

Germany, present day. Steve and Bucky were called on a mission to investigate what was possibly a HYDRA base left over from WWII. On their way in, they noticed the remains of a downed plane a few miles out from the base that nature had taken over in the course of sixty years give or take. On the surface, it had the hell bombed out of it. Steve managed to find a charred door in amongst the wreckage and went in, Bucky following behind. Underground was a rabbit warren of rooms and passageways, their secrets lost to time, waiting to be uncovered.

 “We should split up,” Steve said, getting out his flashlight. Bucky nodded and got out his own. The duo headed in, checking each and every room for anything that might be of HYDRA origin.

 This place gave Bucky the creeps and bad memories began to invade his mind; memories of when he lost his identity of Sergeant James Buchannan Barnes and given the new one of The Winter Soldier. Room after room they looked in until Steve found something.

 “Buck, you gotta see this...” Bucky made his way to where Steve called him to and whatever he was expecting, this was not it. The room was still lit with sickening fluorescent lights. In the back corner, there were two pods. One was empty, whatever test subject it held was long gone. The other had a woman still cryogenically frozen inside. Bucky placed his right hand on the glass.

 “She’s just like me...”

 “Think you can make sense of these?” Steve asked, holding up a dusty file written in German. Bucky picked them up and read through the notes. It stated the woman’s name and why she was there. There was also information on a second woman, presumably whoever was in the second pod. Apparently, they were going to be used for a programme akin to the Winter Soldiers or the Red Room but the project had been scrapped and only one of the subjects was moved.

 “I’m going to let Fury know what we’ve found.” Steve headed out to make the call but Bucky stayed behind. He couldn’t leave this woman all alone now that he knew she was there.

...

 Feeling a pounding in your head, you opened your eyes. Slowly, you sat up, looking around. You appeared to be back in your base. Funny... you didn’t remember making it back. The last thing you remembered was crashing after completing a mission. Was a rescue sent out and that’s how you got here? You spotted another woman in one of the other beds. Steadily, you got up and went over to her.

 “Come on, Yelena. We’ve got another mission,” you said, shaking her shoulder. As she sat up, you immediately noticed that this was not your navigator.

 “You’re not Yelena...”

 “No, I’m a new recruit. My name is Natalia Romanova,” she replied in Russian.

 “Well I hope you’re a quick study, Natalia. Major Bershanskaya will not make things easy for you. Now get ready. Training for you starts now.”

 As you got dressed, something struck you as very odd. Your uniform fitted perfectly like it was tailored for you and your boots weren’t oversized. It set off alarm bells in your head but you didn’t want to frighten the new girl. As you headed out, you saw an officer standing and waiting for you.

 “Who are you?” you asked, confused as to why this man would be here, especially one who looked so high up in command. Something else that you noticed was that there were planes around the base.

 “I’m your new commanding officer...” That did it. There was no way your commander would leave her girls. You managed to snatch his sidearm but even faster, Natalia had you in a headlock, one hand holding the wrist you held the gun.

 “Who are you?! Where am I?! What have you done with Yelena?! Where is my navigator?!” The pair exchanged a look and conversed in English, something you didn’t understand.

 “I can explain everything... just give me the gun,” the man prompted. Slowly, you handed him the sidearm which he put away and Natalia let go of you.

 “You have been asleep for over sixty years...”

 “What?! How?! We... we were just there... and... Yelena! Where is she? Is she okay? Is she safe?” The pair exchanged another look.

 “You were the only one we found in the base...” You broke down sobbing and straight away the man held you up as you trembled. He rubbed your back and stroked your hair which you found strangely comforting. How could you have been asleep for sixty years? It was only hours ago you were flying to drop bombs on German bases.

...

 A few hours later, you were sitting by the window of the room which had been set up for you thinking over all the new information which had been given to you. They had given you new clothes but the only ones who spoke your language were the ones you met at the fake base camp. Your thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door.

 “May I come in?” A male’s voice asked.

 “Yes...” The man who you came to learn was named Bucky walked in with a plate of food.

 “I thought you might like something to eat...”

 “I’m not hungry...”

 “I know what you’re going through but you still need to eat...”

 “How could you possibly know what I’m going through?! Do you know what it’s like to be with friends one minute and find out they’re all gone?! To wake up in a strange place with strange people?! To have no idea what the hell is going on?!” He was quiet for a few moments.

“Actually... I do.” You were taken aback from his response. Bucky sat down on your bed and began telling you his life’s story.

 He told you about his best friend Steve who always used to getting in trouble. He enlisted in the American army the moment he could. His time in the Howling Commandos. About how he fell off the train and became a weapon for HYDRA for decades. As he spoke, his eyes began to ghost over, reliving the old memories that you could see were haunting him. You sat next to him and held his hand. Bucky hastily wiped his eyes.

 “What about you? Tell me your story...”

 You smiled softly. You told him about your father who died defending Osowiec Fortress and how it inspired you to fight for your country. When the call went out for women to fly bomber planes, you and your best friend Yelena Belsky both applied and got in, you as a pilot and she as a navigator. You flew many sorties together. Your commander Major Yevdokiya Bershanskaya was stern but fair with you girls but taught you everything you knew. You spoke about your last mission, the one you were on when your plane was shot down.

 Bucky listened to your every word, looking at you with total admiration. Most of the men looked at you with pity or distain. You couldn’t help but blush a little under his intense gaze.

 “I, um... I think I’ll have something to eat now,” you mumbled, taking the plate he brought with him. “Thank you...”

 “Anytime... if you ever want to talk, you can always come to me. Nat should be available too...”

 “I appreciate that.”

 To Bucky, those memories were a lifetime ago but to you, they were only like yesterday. It somehow felt good to share those stories with someone who understood what it was like to go through the same thing you were.

...

 The months flew by and before you knew it, a year had passed. Between Natasha and Bucky you were now fluent in English. They taught you hand to hand combat and other things you would need to join The Avengers, although, you were pretty much an ace pilot when it came to the jets. Natasha became your best friend and you frequently spoke in Russian with her. You formed a bond with Steve too once the language barrier came down, sharing war stories with each other but the person on the team you were closest to was Bucky. He taught you a lot over the months and it wasn’t long before you started dating. It was inevitable.

...

 One night, you were standing on the balcony, looking at the moon and thinking about that fateful night you were assigned to bomb that base all those years ago. You wondered if your friend was dead or alive. The team had told you they would help you find her, searching all HYDRA archives they came across and Bucky helped you to follow every lead. Your heart hoped for the best but you knew to expect the worst.

 “Hey, Doll.” You turned to see Bucky standing in the doorway. He walked over to you and put his arm around you, kissing your head. “What’s on your mind?”

 “Yelena... I can’t help but hope that I’ll find her one day. She was like my sister. Natasha has been wonderful, you all have but it’s hard being stuck in the past...”

 “Tell me about it,” Bucky muttered softly. “You know... it’s been just over a year now since we met...”

 “So it has,” you wistfully replied. “Time sure flies...”

 “It sure does... and I don’t want to waste any more of it.” You looked confused as Bucky pulled away from you.

 “When I was called on that mission to uncover an old HYDRA base, I never thought I would meet the love of my life. You’re one of the bravest, strongest, most incredibly women I know. Will you marry me?” Bucky got down on one knee and presented you with a beautiful ring. You couldn’t help but tear up.

 “Yes, Bucky, I will!” Bucky smiled and stood up, sliding the ring on your finger and kissing you.

 Who knew that a German base lost to time would connect two military personals so perfectly together?

[shirtlessfelix]

Ace, David, Jake x Original Killers

Hello hello! These requests seemed to go with each other, so I've combined them into one post. They are three separate stories. Anons who sent these in, I hope you don't mind, and I hope you enjoy! <3

Ace x Sphinx Killer | 423 words

The Sphinx was the first killer that Ace wasn't afraid of. Really, he was quite underwhelmed by her, unfazed by the way she prowled around trials like a tiger stalking its prey. He thought a real tiger would be scarier, something to fear, but the Sphinx had an extra trick up her sleeve that none of the survivors suspected.

She caught survivors in her own kind of traps: sarcophagi that they may have been buried alive in if they didn't answer her questions correctly. Most of them couldn't and were lost to the fog in a matter of minutes, but Ace rolled his eyes as if he'd heard them all before. "What, a rock?" he asked in response to one of her riddles, and she stiffened like the limestone she was crafted from.

She asked him another, and another, and then another, and every answer was correct, which forced the killer to let him go and try for someone else. That was the first time she found interest in any of the survivors other than to take them for herself. Ace was a special one; maybe she did want him to herself.

In their next trial, she made a point to capture him and keep him behind, breaking the rules without a care in the world; she would have him, and he would talk. Ace was confused at first, but he didn't want to fight her; being on her good side may have been a good thing, so who would he be to turn it down? She asked him, "How did you know?" and he told her that he knew every riddle known to man.

It was a long time that they spent with Ace answering her riddles, a growing smile on his face the more surprised she became. He thought her eyes were beautiful in the moonlight, more than the jewels he was so entranced by in his life, and he told her so. She thanked him; he put his arm around her and told her to relax.

Maybe Ace was a flirtatious bastard who knew no limits, but something about the Sphinx really did hypnotize him. The Temple was cold, but they warmed each other up and found comfort in their embrace. They only separated when she was summoned for another trial, and she left him with one final puzzle to solve. The trouble was that Ace didn't know the answer to this one.

"It's you," she whispered as she was carried off, and Ace's heart nearly melted on the spot.

David x Siren Killer | 455 words

There's rarely a time when David isn't bruised and bloody after insisting that he protect his fellow survivors. It's easy for him to get ahead of himself, especially when he used to feel invincible in his life before it all came crashing down. He'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy the thrill of an injury, continuing on even when he's bleeding through the bandages, but he also needs to realize when he needs a break.

At first, she reminded David of Anna, the way she hummed in the distance and taunted the survivors with her enchanting voice. While he was afraid of Anna's humming, the other lullaby drew him in closer, and that was how she got hold of him the first time. She lulled him into a false sense of safety before dragging him down to her underwater cage, and all he saw was a mermaid tail swimming off to find someone else to collect.

They're real? Wait, no—

He didn't know what to think. Mustering all of the strength he had, and knowing his lungs wouldn't spare him for much longer, he managed to free himself from the cage and make it back to the surface. The killer sat atop a rock in the distance, her eyes on David the second his head bobbed out of the water, and he fell right into them again, swimming towards her as his heart beat faster.

By then, he hadn't realized that she already ravished the others; she had him in her arms before his eyes adjusted to the midnight around him. "I knew you'd come back," she said. "Come lay with me, David." At first, he didn't want to, but then she started humming again.

David was like putty under her touch, so soft and sweet as she caressed the side of his face, and he tried to fight it at first. He insisted that he was fine, and he just wanted to go help his friends, but there was nobody to help. She made it so that way she could be alone with him, the tough guy who suddenly wasn't so tough.

In her arms, David was comfortable somehow, listening to her angelic voice as every muscle relaxed, and she washed his wounds. They're not real, he kept thinking to himself. None of this is real, it'll go away...

He woke up back at the campfire, skin perfectly in tact as it had been before, and a part of him thought that he may have been right. She wasn't real; even in the Entity's realm, mermaids couldn't be real. But he heard that song again in the middle of the storehouse, and his heart perked up with hope that she was there.

Jake x Poison Ivy Killer | 514 words

Having lived there for so long before being grabbed up by the Entity, Jake was a man of the woods and found solace in the Red Forest. The canopy reminded him of home, and the rain always felt good to run around in even when it was to escape one of the depraved killers. He enjoyed being somewhere that felt familiar, and overtime he got to know the forest more deeply. Imagine his surprise when he found himself with a rash.

He'd been around every square inch of the forest hundreds of times over, never once running into a poison ivy plant, but he must have rubbed his hand against a poisonous vine... where did those come from?

It was later when he found an antidote and realized that there was a new killer around somewhere, but he didn't know where. Nobody was around besides the other survivors, and as they all were too busy scratching their arms and their legs, they wondered what the Entity could have been thinking.

It was unbearable for the others as they started being swallowed by the plants one by one; first a leg getting stuck under the root of a tree, and then the other as they were dragged down into the mud. Jake was the only one left, having used all of the antidotes and waiting for when he would ultimately be killed by this thing too.

As he waited, he found that the poison ivy was disappearing, some of it sinking back into the ground, and other plants dissolving back into the air. He found it hard to believe that this was happening, especially when the ivy consumed the others just a moment ago. "It's okay. I'll spare you," he heard, and when he turned around, he just barely saw the fuzzy pink of a woman's eyes.

And then he fell unconscious, a victim of her toxins that she had little control over. She cursed herself and picked Jake up quickly, trying to pull him through the Huntress' forest and into her own, where she brought him to her ivy-entwined treehouse. She laid him down and waited for him to regain consciousness. When he did, he was understandably upset.

"I'm sorry, I didn't want that to happen," she told him, and he supposed he understood that it was an accident to some degree. He knows how pheromones work, and he understands that what she was trying to convey didn't work out the way she'd hoped. "I suppose I like you a little too much." The sentiment made Jake laugh, but the killer was embarrassed.

He looked out of the window and saw where the floor was covered in poison oak, a dark red hue that matched her hair, and he thought it was beautiful. She wanted him to lay with her and relax for a bit, but even she knew that may not have been the best of ideas. And then she told him, "I don't want to hurt you again, but I'd like for you to stay." Jake wanted to stay with her too.