#as I must suffer through weekly

[yandere-3-sagau]

Debauched!Creator!Reader Brainrot

!!NSFW! MINORS DNI!!

warning(s): exhibitionism, kinky shit, genderfluid reader, dom!reader

Hates being creator and decides to do the most fucked up shit to see how far they can get away with.

Answer: anything and everything.

Decides to have weekly archon meetings. However, they decide to fuck an acolyte during the meeting (they excludes Nahida from these meetings).

The archons protest at first saying that no one but the archons should not hear such sensitive information.

Reader claims that they have no time to relieve themselves because of all the responsibilities. They can’t concentrate til all of their desires are sated and since they’re a god, their level of needs are different from the rest of teyvat.

Reader is genderfluid and can switch between dick and puss.

First meeting, they fuck xiao with their cock. They have him bent over the table while they talk about the current issues with the countries.

Xiao bites his arm to keep quiet but it’s hard for the acolytes to pay attention when they can hear the slap of their skin together.

All the archons are incredibly turned on but have no choice but to sit through it in jealousy.

Xiao’s drool tears and sweat are all over the table. Eventually, reader cums and Xiao thinks they’re done so he straightens himself only to get roughly slammed back down on the table and pounded into.

It startles the acolytes and they go quiet. Creator demands that they continue the meeting. However, Xiao is overstimulated and his voice gets louder, so reader shoves their fingers in his mouth to mute him. Their movements shake the table so hard, no one is able to write.

Reader tells them that it’s unbecoming to not look at the people you’re talking to. Reader makes them present reports and maintains eye contact with the archons while they’re fucking someone.

In the second meeting, reader is getting drilled by Childe while they sit on his lap. This time, Zhongli is the most affected. He is incredibly hard. He’s unusually quiet this meeting. He thinks he’s slick but the creator notices his hand reach down to his pants. He thinks reader doesn’t notice as his breathing gets heavier and sweat runs down his face. When the creator “accidentally” lets out a moan, Zhongli’s entire body shivers and he finishes in his pants.

Eventually the archons start offering themselves but reader always refuses them since they must pay attention to the meeting. They have no choice but to suffer in silence whenever reader does it.

Next reader brings in Neuvillette and Zhongli is immediately thrown off by the presence of another dragon.

Reader fucks neuvillette hard on the table and he struggles to hold back his moans. Just before he cums, he transforms into his hybrid dragon state, cum bursting from both of his cocks all over the table and floor. Neuvillette’s cum even reaches Zhongli’s paperwork he was meaning to show the creator since he was sitting closest to them.

Zhongli is super jealous and pissed off since dragons are territorial and he just witnessed another dragon getting everything he wanted and even more pissed off that the other dragon “marked” the papers he wanted to show reader. Zhongli slams his hand on the table and storms out. It’s the first time anyones seen him so mad.

Reader is happy though since this is what they wanted all along. Thinking he is angry at them, they can’t wait to see how Zhongli tries to kill them. They hopes he succeeds.

However, instead of Zhongli showing up to kill them, reader hears news of a duel between Neuvillette and Zhongli.

(should i make detailed versions of this???)

[david-talks-sw]

More George Lucas debunking misconceptions about the Prequel Jedi:

"Anakin killed the Jedi in retaliation. They failed him, betrayed him and didn't allow him to have a relationship, so he killed them all."

"[In Revenge of the Sith] The controversy is going to be that people expect some horrible, horrific thing to happen to [Anakin] that caused him to [become Darth Vader]. It's much subtler. It's something that everybody faces— when you're looking at yourself, you can see your good and your bad, and say, "Is this a selfish choice or is this a compassionate choice? And once I get something, what would I do to keep from losing it? Would I make a pact with the devil to keep it?" - Entertainment Weekly #785, 2004

"… some of the people had a hard time with the reason that Anakin goes bad. [...] They wanted a real betrayal, such as, "You tried to kill me so now I'm going to try and kill you." They didn't seem to understand the fact that Anakin is simply greedy. There is no revenge." - The Making of Revenge of The Sith, page 188

"The rest of the Jedi have dogmatically forgotten how to love out of fear of having attachments, Qui-Gon is the only one who knows that you can love people selflessly, without getting possessive."

"The fact that everything must change and that things come and go through his life and that he can't hold onto things, which is a basic Jedi philosophy that he isn't willing to accept emotionally and the reason that is because he was raised by his mother rather than the Jedi. If he'd have been taken in his first year and started to study to be a Jedi, he wouldn't have this particular connection as strong as it is and he'd have been trained to love people but not to become attached to them. But he has become attached to his mother and he will become attached to Padmé and these things are, for a Jedi, who needs to have a clear mind and not be influenced by threats to their attachments, a dangerous situation." - Attack of the Clones, Director’s Commentary, 2002

"Obviously, it’s a progression. But in [Attack of the Clones], you begin to see that he has a fear of losing things, fear of losing his mother. And as a result, he wants to begin to control things, he wants to become more powerful. And these are not Jedi traits. And part of this is because he started to be trained so late in life, that he had already formed these attachments. And for a Jedi, attachment is forbidden. You can love people, but you have to love them unconditionally, in terms that you can’t hold on to them." - CNN, “Countdown to the Clones”, 2002

"The Jedi are trained to let go. They're trained from birth. They’re not supposed to form attachments. They can love people - in fact, they should love everybody. They should love their enemies; they should love the Sith. But they can't form attachments. So what all these movies are about is: greed. Greed is a source of pain and suffering for everybody. And the ultimate state of greed is the desire to cheat death." - The Making of Revenge of The Sith, page 213

"Ultimately for a Jedi Knight, it’s very easy to give up. One of the things they give up is marriage. They can still love people. But they can’t possess them. They can’t own them. They can’t demand that they do things. They have to be able to accept the fact, one, their mortality, that they are going to die. And not worry about it. That the loved ones they have, everything they love is going to die and they can’t do anything about it." - Celebration V, Main Event, 2010

"The Jedi in The High Republic are the Jedi in their prime/heyday. By the time of the Prequels, they've become political and dispassionate/prohibitive."

"[In Phantom Menace] you see the heyday of the Jedi, when they are the guardians of peace and justice in the galaxy, sort of like the old marshals out West. And there's thousands of them." - Vanity Fair, 1999

"We've actually never seen real Jedi at work, we've only seen crippled half-droid half-men, and young boys that had learned from these old people. So to see a Jedi in his prime fighting in the prime of the Jedi, I want it to be a much more energetic and faster version of what we've been doing." - The Phantom Menace, “Fights”, 2001

"Jedi Knights aren't celibate - the thing that is forbidden is attachments - and possessive relationships." - BBC News, 2002

"[When Obi-Wan talks to Anakin about politicians, we learn about] the Jedi’s disenchantment with the political process, due to the corruption and the ineffectiveness of the Senate." - Attack of the Clones, Director’s Commentary, 2002

"The Jedi aren't really allowed to be involved in the political process. They're [present in the Senate when Palpatine is given emergency powers], but they can't suddenly step up and say, "No, no. You can't do that." They have to let the political process go." - Attack of the Clones, Commentary Track #2, 2002

[morehotch]

[8:02 PM]

when aaron walks into your shared apartment, you’re for once thankful that jack is at jess’s for the night. you immediately stand up, chest tightening just looking at his bloody lip, the small scratches on his cheeks and forehead, and bandaged ear. he looks entirely exhausted and hurting; watching him makes your heart sink and breath hitch. 

aaron warned you that he was a little ‘banged up’ from the unsub when they confronted him; he called you from the jet before they took off, detailing how he and morgan went in to successfully save the unsub’s last victim before he set off one last bomb. still, no words could prepare you for how you feel when he walks in the door. you never feel okay seeing him after a case; always on some level mentally and physically exhausted- but this. 

you suck in a deep breath, tears instantly welling up in your eyes as aaron’s brows furrow and his frown deepens. you can immediately tell he feels bad for upsetting you and you hate it. you hate everything about him coming home so broken and exhausted yet still so determined to be strong for you. 

“honey,” aaron starts, loosening his tie and walking towards you, “i’m okay, i promise.”

you stand to hug him carefully, thumbing over his cheek that doesn’t have a bandage on it. “you need some new bandages and ice,” you decide softly. 

“you don’t have to do that,” he whispers but it’s not convincing as you shake your head adamantly. “i want to. let me help you, please.”

aaron doesn’t say anything, only nodding, as you get up and he follows you into the bathroom. you pull things out of the first aid kit you keep tucked away in the bathroom. usually it was reserved for jack’s soccer games and other unpredictable kid activities but times like these it was always helpful too. 

“stay still,” you mutter and aaron immediately obliges. he looks up at you through hooded eyes that gaze at you with so much admiration that you’re momentarily distracted by their intensity. 

just by your face alone, aaron must be able to tell you don’t think he’s okay. 

“i already got cleared by the medic at the scene, honey.” his voice is thick but he’s not fighting you. you can tell he feels guilty. 

the way he says it so casually and the way his eyes contain such a raw form of honesty make you look away momentarily, knowing how easily convinced you are by him.

“i don’t care.” you say it with such sternness that aaron doesn’t bother arguing with you anymore as you begin to refocus on re-bandaging his ear. “i still want to take care of you,” you whisper, disinfecting his cuts and wiping the excess blood from his face.

but the further you examine his injuries, the more concerned you become. “you need ice for the swelling, they didn’t give you ice? maybe you should call your doctor tomorrow for your ear, especially because of your injury a few years ago.” you hear yourself ramble frantically, trying not to get worked up as you grasp tightly onto his cold hand, looking around your bathroom for anything to soothe his irritated skin.

“it’s okay,” aaron looks up, managing a reassuring smile and searching your eyes in an attempt to ground you.

“no, no it’s not,” you say, pouting, “you can’t come back to me all bloody and bruised.” you suck in a deep breath as your thoughts overwhelms you entirely, “i don’t like it.” you try to wipe your watering eyes and stop your fumbling lip. you turn away from him to face the sink, hating how weak you feel when aaron is always so incredibly strong for you.  

he looks up at you and feels bad. aaron doesn’t say anything, what can he say? he has always been scared, terrified, that you would slowly grow tired of the repetitive wounds, days without seeing him, and his constant, demanding work.

he fears someday you’ll decide that you’re tired of all the baggage that comes with him; the pain and suffering he brought home weekly or all the nights you’ve spent staying up waiting, worried, and scared. aaron wouldn’t blame you if you were tired of all of it.

but you never are. you’re different from anything aaron has ever seen or experienced. your touches are delicate and careful, roaming his body softly and gently, like no one else ever has. you take care of him and listen. you understand and always try to understand. you love jack, love him, and it’s so encompassing and beautiful that aaron hates when you have to see him like this. 

you can easily tell what he’s thinking about, the guilt that he permanently carries on his shoulders. “i’m not leaving,” you say quietly, gripping his chin carefully and urging him to look up at you. you smooth a hand over his shoulder, still covered by his dress shirt. 

“i know,” he whispers hoarsely.

“i want you to feel extra sure then,” you smile, letting his arms snake around your hips to pull you closer as his head buries into your leg, covered by your soft pajama pants.  

it’s silent for a few moments and aaron shows no signs of moving, head still resting on your hip, eyes glued to your bathroom counter; your toothbrushes in a cup together. the shampoo you always use that smells like mango, your lives so perfectly intertwined together. 

you say after a moment of silence, continuing. “i think you need a reminder sometimes,” you whisper, hand running through his hair. you toss the old bandage in the trash, bending to kiss the crown of his head, “i’ll always stay because i love you.” 

and aaron entirely believes you. 

[eddie-van-munson]

Elvira's Movie Macabre (Eddie Munson x Sunshine!Reader)

***********

Summary: After hearing your crush talk about his infatuation with "The Mistress of the Dark", Chrissy decides to give you a makeover...

Warnings: Friends to Lovers, References to Jason's Rumors About Eddie, Implication That Eddie Might have ADHD/ A Learning Disorder, Reader Puts on Makeup, She/Her Pronouns, Cursing, Slight Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Self-Deprecation, One Sex Joke

A/N: Happy Halloween! This is cheesy as hell and I'm not sure if I like how it turned out, but I haven't posted anything in forever, so I thought I'd give it a go! Let me know what you think! I promise I'm working on requests!

***********

"Chrissy, are you sure about this?" 

Your eyes burnt as Chrissy dragged a black eyeliner pencil over your waterline. She stuck her tongue out in concentration, brushing away a tear that had gathered at the outer corner of your eye. The liner smeared a bit beneath her thumb, but she left the smudge where it was, deciding it added to the look. Your eyes fluttered open as she capped the pencil proudly. "I'm absolutely positive! You're going to knock his socks off!" 

You tried to hide your uncertainty, glancing over at the small television in your friend's room. 

Chrissy had taken it upon herself to tape that week's episode of  Elvira's Movie Macabre after overhearing Eddie call the series host "a total fuckin' smoke show" in a conversation at the Hellfire table. 

"It's fool-proof!" She'd explained to you as she fast forwarded through the weekly B-Movie, pausing on a clear shot of Elvira. "We know he likes Elvira, and we know he likes you. If we combine the two, the results will be completely irresistible!" 

The speech had been very convincing as your friend studied the TV host's makeup, but now, as she plucked a cherry red lipstick from her collection, you were starting to have your doubts. Not that you had much of a choice. You'd been pining over Eddie since Mrs. O'Donnell had assigned you to him as a tutor last fall, and it was getting to be pathetic. 

You'd been nervous at first. You didn't know anything about Eddie, apart from the nasty rumors that Jason Carver liked to spread in the cafeteria. From the things he'd said, you'd half expected Eddie to start performing ritualistic sacrifices mid study session. Instead, you were met with a goofy, friendly, curly-headed boy, who immediately told you that he was "Sorry, you got stuck with the freak." He certainly wasn't scary. In fact, you liked Eddie. 

You could see why his grades were suffering. He had trouble focusing, and you often had to tell him things several times before he was able to absorb them. It was as if his brain was too loud on the inside. That being said, Eddie's attempts were earnest. He worked so hard to do right by you, and you'd celebrate a C minus like it was a badge of honor if it made Eddie feel proud of himself. 

All week long you eagerly awaited the afternoons when Eddie would pick you up from cheer practice in his van. He always looked so happy to see you, honking the horn and calling your name just so he could see you go all blushy and giggly in front of your friends. In moments like that, when Eddie smiled at you like you hung the stars, you could almost let yourself believe he loved you back. 

You must have had hearts in your eyes when he'd invited you to come see his band play. He'd gone so blushy when he asked, scratching his neck awkwardly as he stuttered through his words. 

"You don't have to come. It's just a small gig, y'know? You've got to start somewhere. But I'd really like it if you came. I'd like to see you there... I think Steve and Robin said they'd come too, so, you won't be there on your own or anything. But you don't have to come if-" 

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a great big hug. "Oh Eddie!! Of course I'll come!! Don't be silly!! I'd love to see you play!" 

You couldn't have known, but Eddie had wanted nothing more in that moment but to kiss you senseless. You looked so sweet there in his arms, clad in your little pink cardigan and lacy socks. Your lips were a glossy smile, your cheeks dusted rosy. Eddie couldn't remember the last time he'd been hugged like that. 

You thought about his pretty brown eyes as you puckered your lips. Chrissy painted them carefully, finishing them off with a touch of gloss before she ran to retrieve a can of hairspray from her bathroom. 

"I don't have a teasing comb, so a regular comb will have to do!"

***********

You looked...Well, you looked like Elvira.

Chrissy had worked magic. Your eyelashes were dark and heavy with mascara, your eyes shrouded in sexy black smoke. Your hair was perfectly wild and mussed, like you'd just gotten off of a motorcycle. You stared at your reflection, red lips parted in shock. 

Chrissy grinned, "Well, what do you think?" 

It was perfect. You looked like one of the girls in the band posters Eddie had taped up in his room. If he didn't want you like this, then nothing would win him over. 

"Oh, Chrissy...it's beautiful!" 

'`You're beautiful, silly!' She giggled as you pulled her into a hug, looking you up and down. "We've just got to find you an outfit to match now, hm?" 

The thought hadn't crossed your mind. You looked in the mirror again, realizing how out of place your little skirt and blouse looked next to your hair and makeup. Your closet wasn't filled with anything better…mostly an array of pastels. That is except for one recent addition. 

Your brows raised, an idea tugging a smile to your lips. 

***********

Eddie searched for you from the wings, unable to find you in the bar's sparse crowd. Surely you'd come. You said you would come, right? 

He didn't let the band go on until Gareth reassured him that he had definitely seen you coming in. "She's here man. And shit, she dressed up real pretty for you, too. Just relax, ok? She'll eat it up." 

Despite the stroke of possessiveness that sat in his chest over the comment, Eddie concurred that he'd never played better. The whoops and hollers as the band played were almost exclusively from his friends, but it didn't matter. You were there. He might as well have been playing Madison Square Garden. 

"We're Corroded Coffin and you guys fuckin' rock!"

The moment he exited the stage and carefully rested Sweetheart in her stand, he was sprinting to the dressing room. His skin was drenched in sweat from the lights, but thankfully, his curls still looked relatively good. He checked his teeth as he toweled off and clumsily pulled on a shirt, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste. 

He searched the crowd at the bar, but found no sign of your usual pink lace and frills. Finally, he wandered over to Robin and Steve, his dark brows furrowed with confusion. "Have you guys-" 

His words trailed off when he finally noticed you, standing right there next to Steve. Your hair was mussed and teased, heavy makeup lining your eyes and lips. You smiled at the sight of him, tucking some hair behind your ear. 

Only then did Eddie see what you were wearing. There, oversized on your frame, was his leather. He'd leant it to you a few nights back when he'd dropped you off at your house. It'd started raining, and you were still in your cheer uniform from practice. Eddie had found particular satisfaction in watching you curl up in it, giving his cheek a grateful peck before running inside. 

"Y/N?" 

Your smile faded a little, seeing the confusion in his eyes, but you shook it off, jogging over to hug him tight. "Eddie!" 

You grinned up at him, excitement in your eyes. "Oh, Eddie! It was amazing! You really-" 

"What are you wearing, sweetheart?" He frowned as he smoothed your hair a little, thumbing at your smudged eyeliner. 

Immediately, your face fell. You saw disbelief flash in Robin's expression from the corner of your eye. Your voice was so soft when you spoke again, "You don't like it?"

Eddie was at a loss for words, confused by every last detail of the situation he was in. He shrugged, scratching his neck awkwardly.

"I-...Well I..." 

He fucked up. Oh he fucked up. Your pretty eyes glossed with tears, betrayal in your expression. His stomach lurched as your arms dropped from his waist and you took a step away from him.

Eddie floundered. "Y/N-" 

You shook your head, chest flooding with embarrassment. A tear welled over. "No, I'm sorry. I just-...I really shouldn't have come."  

The crowd thickened as you backed away from him. 

"Y/N!" He shouted for you as you snaked through the crowd, following behind you. "Y/N that's not what I-" He grabbed your wrist, pulling you to him, but you only thrust his jacket against his chest, embarrassment burning your ears. 

You turned from him again, and before he could even reach for you, you were gone. 

***********

"Eddie Munson, what the hell is wrong with you!?" Robin shouted as Eddie scrambled around the greenroom, trying to find the keys to his van. 

"I know. I know, Robs. I fucked up, ok?" Panic laced his tone as he tugged his curls angrily. 

"Yes! Yes you did! She showed up here tonight dressed like she'd just walked out of your own personal wet dream, and you totally fumbled!" Steve put a hand on Robin's shoulder, reeling her in. She only sighed, holding her temples. "Eddie, you don't question a woman on how she looks. Unless she is, perhaps, wearing actual clown shoes-" 

"I get it Robin!" He shouted, voice cracking as tears smarted his nose. He collapsed on the green room couch in defeat, burying his face in his hands. "I fucking get it, ok? I'm an asshole. I'm the biggest moron alive." 

Steve sighed, wandering over to sit beside him on the couch. "Dude, you're not a moron." 

Eddie didn't respond, only stared at the ground. His eyes were red with tears. 

Steve crooned to meet his gaze. "And you're not an asshole either, huh? You didn't mean to hurt her feelings. Did you really think she looked bad?" 

"No." He choked, wrapping his torso iin his arms. "She looked fucking gorgeous, man. I was just surprised." 

Steve smiled encouragingly, giving Eddie's shoulder a shove. "Then find your damn keys and go tell her that, ok? Y/N's an angel. She'll understand." 

Eddie sniffled and rubbed his face with a nod, standing from the couch. Steve jumped up after him, "Eddie, wait..." 

He turned to look at Steve as he caught up with him, plucking the keys from where he'd spotted them in the back pocket of Eddie's pants. "Go get 'er, Tiger." 

***********

You were glad your parents had gone out to dinner that night. If your mom had seen your outfit, she would have had a heart attack. If your dad had seen you crying, Eddie would have been a dead man. 

You cried until your makeup was gone. And then you washed the black smears from your face and cried some more.

It'd been a stupid idea, really...trying to be like the girls he liked. You'd never be like those girls, even if you looked the part. Eddie knew that. He was probably mortified at the sight of you...all dressed up in a silly costume at his important gig. You shouldn't have even tried. 

You dozed off on the couch, wishing you'd never given him his leather back. You wanted nothing more than to put on his big jacket and fall asleep wrapped in the smell of him. Well, there was one thing you wanted more. You'd rather have him holding you. 

You were half asleep on the living room couch when the front door opened. You ignored the sound, curling in tighter on yourself and trying to go back to sleep. You weren't in the mood to answer your parent's questions right now. You just wanted to sulk. Heavy footsteps made their way into the living room, and you couldn't help but sigh as the figure knelt beside the couch. A warm hand rubbed your shoulders, sweetly. 

"Sweetheart?" 

The voice was soft and hoarse. You rolled over, brows furrowed with confusion. "Eddie?" 

He gave you a sad smile as you rubbed your eyes, holding up the spare key he'd found under the mat. "I did knock."

You sniffled, sitting up on an elbow, but Eddie relaxed your shoulders sweetly, guiding you to lay back down. " 's alright." He hummed, barely audibly. "Stay comfy."

"What're you doing here?" Your voice was croaky, but defensive. A hollow ache panged in his chest at your distrust. 

"Well…" He sighed, adjusting his position so he could sit more comfortably on the floor beside the couch. "You ran off before I could tell you how pretty you look tonight." 

His voice was earnest and calm, but you shook your head angrily and crossed your arms over your chest, tears burning your eyes. "I looked stupid."

Eddie's dark brows furrowed, "Hey, that's not true. Why would you say that?" 

You felt a hot trail roll down your cheek, "I embarrassed you." 

"Horsehit." Eddie scoffed, "You really think I was embarrassed by you?"

You nodded, still refusing to meet his eyes.

"What's so embarrassing about having the hottest, most badass looking chick in all of Hawkins show up to my gig, huh?" 

You went bright pink, and Eddie couldn't help but smile a little. He pulled you closer to hold you in a hug, admiring you as he stroked your hair.

"It was absolutely killer. And if you want to change up your look, then hell, I'm with you all the way." You shied at his praise. "That being said… I'm kind of in deep for this little ray of sunshine that I'm always running around with, huh?" 

You hid your face, making him grin. 

"There's my shy girl." He laughed, tapping your cheek playfully with his thumb as he cradled your jaw. "Sweetheart, when you showed up dressed all punk…I thought maybe it was because I'd made you feel like you had to change the way you look because of me."

You relaxed a little. He wasn't exactly wrong. You had dressed like that for him. 

You blinked through your remaining tears, letting your cheek press into the palm of his hand. "C-Chrissy heard you say you think Elvira's pretty." 

Realization flashed in his eyes, a small smile creeping to his face, "Wait a second..." 

Your face flushed. 

He grinned, "Are you telling me that you tried to look like Elvira, because you wanted me to think you're pretty?" 

You nodded, ashamed, and toyed with the rips in his jeans, avoiding eye contact. 

Eddie was smiling like the sun, "Christ, you precious thing..."

"I wanted you to be proud of me at your show." You whined defensively. "I thought I'd stick out like a sore thumb in my normal clothes, and I like you so much Eddie. I know I'm not really your type, and I wanted to look pretty for you, like the girls in your band posters, but made a fool of myse-" 

"Y/N L/N." He took your face firmly in both hands, making you look him dead in the eye. It was only then that you realized he was giving you that look again. Like you'd hung the stars. "How on earth have you not realized that you've got me on a fucking string?" 

You frowned, eyes glossed with emotion. "What?" 

Eddie chuckled, disbelieving. "Baby, forget Elvira. Do you even know what you do to me?" 

You could only sit there in front of him dumbly, lips parted in shock. 

"Jesus Christ, sweetheart. I look forward to seeing you all week. I'm like a man deprived. And then you show up looking so happy to see me and you're dressed so sweet with your little bows and lace. God...I can't get you out of my head." 

Eddie's cheeks were pink.

"You wanted me to be proud of you, baby? I'm so fuckin proud of you. I feel like I've won the lottery every time you smile at me. A pretty thing like you running around with a freak like me? That's a miracle. And I will show you off to every damn person I see, angel. I'm so proud of you. Proud that you'd even humor me enough to come to my show, let alone change up your entire look just for me? Holy shit. I'm the luckiest son of a bitch there is." 

You were smiling now, trying to hide your face from him in the couch cushions as he pulled you close, kissing your cheeks through your giggles. He crawled up onto the couch, tickling your sides until you were smiling ear to ear, and your tears were replaced with happy ones. 

You laid on your back now with his head rested on your tummy, playing with his curls passively as he admired you. "Who's your celebrity crush, huh?" 

"You." 

Eddie chuckled, "Oh, come on…There's got to be someone." 

You blushed, eyeing the smirk on his face. 

He hummed, "Rob Lowe?" 

You shook your head, busy with his curls. 

"Tom Cruise? You into pilots?" 

You laughed, shaking your head again. 

He watched you closely, "Ralph Macchio?" You paused for a moment, your ears burning as Eddie's face split into a grin. "Oh, Shit! She's into Macchio!!" 

You hid your face, "Oh, Eddie. It's nothing really. I just thought he was awfully cute in-"

Eddie's big brown eyes, lit up. "You think Chrissy will make me over too? Oh man, I've got to start Karate lessons!" 

"Noo!!" You squealed, shoving him playfully on the shoulder. 

"I'm serious! Wax on, Wax off…I'll start calling you Grasshopper and learn how to do that kick!" 

You held your stomach, laughing through his verbal sound effects as he mimed the kick poorly with a socked foot. "Eddie, you'll break a leg doing that!" 

He grinned, "It's only fair, babe. You got to be Elvira!" 

***********

[gakriele-lvs-blog]

Hunter's list of parental figures

Hunter accumulated a remarkable amount of possible parental figures across the series (in both canon and fanon)

-Lilith (at least in fanon): Even throught she acted cold and uncaring during her stay in the emperor's coven she was indeed still a good person behind that mask. So upon realizing the kind of life Hunter was going through (after questioning her belief, past actions, and faith) she would willing to do everything in her power to get him the hell out of Belos's grasp, including getting Eda or Raine involved to assure his safety.

-Raine (Also in fanon): As an active rebel in disguise, they would most likely found out about Hunter's identity behind the mask and the treatment he suffered. They would also do anything in their power to save Hunter, even if it means leaving their current position to do so. (They would definitely appear at Eda's door and say: "Behold! Our son!" he is very sad and is made out of wood and stolen meat!)

Eda: She literally adopted two random kids in the span of 3 to 6 months. Who is going to stop her from adopting the nephew of the Demon Realm equivalent of Jesus? Her human daughter literally assaults government facilities on a weekly basis and his son is a literal offspring of GOD! If you mess with her kids she is going to break your bones and steal your wallet! And In Hollow Mind if Hunter hasn't run away and stayed she would have gotten the adoption papers the next morning.

Darius: We all know this one. The poor man has probably been overwhelmed with guilt and regret after losing his mentor, and looking at Hunter so blindly loyal to Belos must have been quite a heartbreaking sight. But the moment Hunter showed his willingness to defy authority... After Hollow Mind, he probably has a room ready for him at his house, filled with pretty much everything he thinks he will need (from hundreds of books, Flyer Derby equipment, a sewing kit, and who knows what else he has prepared to spoil him rotten)

Camila: We all know she is the Endgame. She is the one who knows him the best out of everyone, she was there when he was left powerless, without a mission, duty, or fate... not even family. She was the reason he learned what is like to be part of a true family. She doesn't care for formalities, she personally teaches him how to use the sewing machine, provided him with the food and clothes he wanted, and even allowed him to use hers and Manny's books and cosplays. Without mentioning how Luz is practically her sister in every shape and form except legally.

Dell (mostly fanon): Hunter mentioned how he wishes to learn how to carve palismans. And who else is a master of the art? one that has probably been looking for someone to pass on the family's legacy. That old but wise man could deliver in a silver plate one of Hunter's dreams.

Steve: No joking, I remember reading a fic about just that, the man appears out of nowhere and gets Hunter the fuck out of here (no idea where it is or if it was a fever dream of mine but...)

[q-gorgeous]

If You Go Out of This World Today 2 Boogaloo

fanfiction

ao3

word count: 1743

Danny suffers an injury to his core which causes him to lose his memory. He finds himself lost in the ghost zone until another ghost finds him and takes him in. Is it clockwork or someone else? Who knows! @kawaiijohn

@sapphireswimming this is set in the same universe as my fic i filled for one of your prompts in 2021 :D

woooooooo phic phighttttttt

 Ember was flying through the ghost zone. She had just left Johnny and Kitty’s lair after their weekly jam session. She was almost back to her own lair when she heard something. 

“No… No. Maybe that way? I don’t… I can’t…”

Must be the hemming and hawing of a newly formed ghost. Many ghosts can’t remember what happened to them immediately upon formation. It takes a while before the memories start to come back to them. 

“I can’t remember.”

Ember chuckles. This ghost sounded like that one fish from that one fish movie. Doreen?

Hopefully that ghost gets its bearings soon. Newly formed ghosts are the worst. 

She took a sharp turn around a corner and as she came around the edge of a floating island, who she saw stopped her in her tracks. 

Floating, lost in the middle of the ghost zone, was Danny in his ghost form. He was turning and looking in every direction, still mumbling to himself. 

“Danny?” She asked as she floated up to him.

He startled, his wide eyes shooting up to meet hers. 

“Do you know me?”

“What?” Ember asked, her brows furrowing. “It’s me, Ember.”

He stared at her with a mix of trepidation and fear. 

“Danny, what's going-” As she got closer, she got a better look at his chest and covered her mouth with her hands to stifle a gasp.

In the middle of his chest was a wound. Ectoplasm bubbled around the edges and she could see it trying to heal itself. But in the middle of his chest deep inside the wound she could see the light that was emitted from the small, compact orb that resided in every ghost. 

“Danny.” She whispered. “What happened to your core?”

He looked down at his chest, following the direction her finger was pointed in. He took a shuddering breath.

“I don’t know. I can’t remember. It hurts though.”

He sounded so small, so scared. 

“Okay.” She swallowed and floated closer to him. “It’ll be okay. You know me, Danny. I’ve known you since you were little. But we need to get you out of the middle of the zone. There are too many ghosts here that would like to fight you.”

He floated a step or two backwards. “Fight me? Why would they want to fight me?”

“You’ve got a hero schtick going on, now follow me. My lair is close by.”

She grabbed his wrist and pulled him alongside her as she flew the rest of the way to her lair. 

What could have damaged him so badly that he’d have such a gaping hole in his chest? Was it his parents? Another ghost? Plasmius? Danny had gotten himself into so many predicaments with so many enemies that it could be anyone really. Even the ghost king!

“Here we are.” She slowed down as they approached another floating island that had an average looking suburban home on it. Her feet touched down on the ground outside the front door and she twisted the doorknob and pushed it open. When they stepped inside Danny twisted his head around, looking at the decor decorating the room.

“No offense, but this doesn’t really seem like your style.” He gestured at Ember as he picked up a doily from the side table next to the door.

She shrugged. “It’s not. This is the house I died in so I think my lair decided it wanted to torture me and make it my forever home.”

Danny had a horrified expression on his face as the doily caught fire and turned to ash. It manifested back in its spot on the table a moment later. 

“Come on, small fry. We’re gonna try to patch you up.” She starts heading upstairs towards the bathroom. “If anything we can at least wrap your chest up in gauze so that hole isn’t wide open to the world.”

They made it to the bathroom and while Ember searched through a cabinet for medical supplies Danny sat down on the toilet and continued looking around. 

“How do you know me?” He asked. 

She turned around with a handful of cotton balls and a bottle of hydrogen peroxide. “I tripped through a portal to the human realm and landed in your bedroom when you were just a little kid.”

“Oh.” He said softly. There was a long pause before he spoke again. “I guess you don’t know how I died if you were here when I woke up here.”

“What?” She looked up at him after dousing a cotton ball in peroxide. “Danny, you're not dead.”

He gave her a look that was such a Danny look that it made her feel a little bit better about the whole situation.

She rolled her eyes. “Okay, maybe you’re a little dead. But not all the way! You’re still alive too.”

“How can someone be both alive and dead? That doesn’t make any sense.”

Ember shrugged. “I don’t know. It doesn’t make any sense to me either. But it’s happened at least twice so it’s possible.”

Danny paused again before he gestured to his chest. “How do I know that this didn’t kill me all the way? What if I’m actually dead for real?”

She paused as she was reaching out to dab his wound with peroxide. “I don’t know. I guess we won’t until your wound heals or you get your memories back. It’s hard to say since newly formed ghosts don’t remember their human lives right away.” 

They went quiet again. Ember finally dabbed a cotton ball against his wound and he hissed at the contact. They sat there in silence until Ember was satisfied with how clean the wound looked and began wrapping a roll of gauze around his chest. Once it was fully covered she cut the gauze and taped it to keep it in place. 

“Okay buddy we’re all done.” She stood up and started washing her hands, ectoplasm draining down into the sink. “Let’s get you to bed. That’ll probably help speed up the healing process.” 

Danny yawned. “Okay. Maybe I’ll be able to remember you by tomorrow.”

Ember smiled. “Maybe.”

She guided him down the hall to one of the spare bedrooms. She helped him gingerly into bed and pulled the blankets up over him. 

“Goodnight, Danny. I hope everything sorts itself out tomorrow.”

Danny smiled at her. “Me too. Goodnight, Ember.”

QQQQQ

Ember was sitting in her living room watching tv the next day when she heard a loud thump come from upstairs. Staring at the ceiling with a frown, she stood up and walked up the stairs. 

When she reached the top step she heard another thump and the sound of something falling over. It sounded like it came from the room Danny was staying in.

“Danny?” She called. “Are you alright?”

She knocked on the door to his room and it opened slightly. Pushing it open the rest of the way she could see Danny sitting on the floor next to the wall, his hands gripped tight in his hair. 

“Danny! What’s wrong?” She rushed over to kneel on the floor in front of him. He looked up at her with haunted eyes. 

“I remember what happened. What injured my core.” He brought a hand down to hold over his chest. 

“What was it?”

“My parents.”

Ember sat in stunned silence while Danny stared at her. 

“What?”

He took a shuddering breath. “They were testing out some new weapon in the lab. They wanted me to come down there to see it. They said they finally figured out what Phantom’s ectosignature was. They had put it in a tracking device and when it started beeping at me they realized that Phantom’s been living with them this whole time. 

“They turned their new weapon on me and shot me with it. They didn’t ask me any questions before doing it. They just… did it.”

Ember’s ponytail flared up as her anger began to build. She clenched her hands into fists. “I knew it! I knew something like this would happen one day! That’s why I stayed, because I was worried about this little boy who lived in this house with parents who wanted to torture things! And then when something finally happened I wasn’t even there to help!” 

“Ember-”

“Those bastards will rue the day they opened that portal. If they hadn’t none of us ghosts would even have corporeal forms. They’re the ones bringing all sorts of danger to that town you want to protect.”

“Ember, listen-”

Ember’s hair flared even more. The walls of the house started crackling, blue flames licking up to the ceiling. “They’re your parents. They’re supposed to love you and take care of you but all they ever did was-”

“I’m sorry!”

The apology stunned Ember out of her rage and the flames of her hair and the flames along the walls suddenly died out.

“What? Why are you apologizing?” 

Danny sniffled. “You were the only person ever looking out for me as a kid. Besides Jazz, anyways. But she was also a kid.” He looked up and met her gaze. “You’re the only adult figure I’ve had all my life that was there for me. And then I ruined it. I decided you weren’t real, I didn’t want to talk to you anymore.” A sob came out. “You were always there for me and the one time I really needed you, you weren’t there. And it’s all my fault.” 

“No, Danny. Shh.” She sat on the floor next to him and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault. How were you supposed to know if I was real or not? When you’re being told one thing by your friends and being criticized for it, it’s not that far of a jump. Especially when you couldn’t see me.”

“I didn’t ever believe you weren’t real.” He sniffled into her shoulder. “I just didn’t want to be made fun of anymore by my friends.”

Ember hummed. “I hope they’ve apologized to you by now for not believing you.”

Danny nodded. 

They sat like that for a bit. Eventually Danny’s sniffles died out and they sat on the floor together in silence. 

“Where do I go now?” He asked quietly. 

“You could always stay here.” Ember rubbed his shoulder. “I have plenty of space.”

He took a deep breath. “Okay. That would be good.”

She smiled sadly at him. 

“Okay.”

[unchartedthelostlegacy]

"What's it like inside your head? Air raid sirens? You always look constipated, china."

Nadine was stretching her arm over her head, and gritted her teeth. Behind her, Chloe walked into the room, slipped by her, and flopped onto the bed.

"You're not funny."

"I can make fun of constipation," Chloe said with a laugh. "As a sufferer myself."

"Didn't need to know."

Nadine stepped over to the clock radio. It was on her bedside table, a dependable model she had used since...studying at a university in America?

It was some miracle it wasn't melted shrapnel by now.

"You don't...actually have air raid sirens going off in your head?" Chloe's voice was nervous.

Nadine clicked the power button. The energy of Ukhozi FM filled the silence.

Why exactly had she let this clown into her life again?

Chloe had to be reminded to help with weekly cleaning like she was a kid. She forgot to turn off water and lights sometimes. Nadine had exhaled through her teeth numerous times, remembering that people who grew up in different countries, countries where load shedding and saving resources wasn't as common, had different habits. And also didn't apparently clean the fucking bathroom ever.

But Chloe wasn't going to get away with the constant. mocking. commentary on her facial expressions. Nadine owned her face and she did what was natural to her with it. The angry black woman trope bullshit could go fuck itself.

"Why...don't you run over to the shops for bread for tomorrow, Frazer?"

Nadine finally sat, not looking behind her.

"Because you're mad at me," Chloe mumbled. "And you won't let me back in."

"You could just pick my locks and get back in. Don't be ridiculous."

"You're doing that deep breathing and jaw clenching thing, mate. I'm not stupid."

Yes you are were the words Nadine so badly wanted to say.

"Go on, the bakery's not far," she said instead, keeping her voice level.

Behind her, Chloe must have punched the mattress, or at least elbowed it, or maybe just thrown her back against it violently. She heard Chloe's sharp exhale of breath.

"I'll go in the morning. When it's actually fresh."

No she wouldn't. She'd forget.

Nadine took a deep breath (guilty as charged) and ran her fingertips under the openings of her socks. She always slept in socks. They went on right after she dried her feet after showering. Chloe had made some sort of stupid comment about that too.

"You...know you can talk to me about anything, right?" Chloe swallowed.

Nadine felt a hand against the small of her back.

"You could say 'you're annoying, Chloe, I need some quiet time by myself'. Instead of sending me off on some bollocks errand. Use your fucking words, mate."

"You wouldn't listen."

Nadine said it with a scoff. She pulled her legs, finally, into bed. She sat cross-legged and reached for the wireless earbuds in the drawer.

"I'm going to kill you in your sleep," Chloe whispered with venom.

"Ja? I'll kill you wide awake."

The hand on her back gripped into her T-shirt's fabric. "You really don't think I'm worth speaking to anymore, Nadine?"

"Nothing I say gets through that thick skull anyway," Nadine snapped, "Why bother?"

"Oh it's fucking--ON--"

Nadine felt the grapple around her neck. Oh no. Not both of Chloe's poorly defined arms. Scary. She slammed her elbow into where she knew Chloe's open armpit was and half-turned, flattening the woman into the sheets with her upper body.

"Don't go becoming a pro wrestler," she said into Chloe's red-angry cheek. "Horrible form, that."

"Did you--"

Chloe fell silent, and Nadine felt her ribs fill with a gasp. And then she, also, heard the telltale vibrating clatter of Chloe's phone.

The treasure hunter must have left it on the counter. Or on the bathroom sink. Or on top of the fucking fridge. Nobody left their phone in more baffling places than Chloe J. Frazer.

"Look at that, your boyfriend's calling," Nadine said, releasing her pressure-point grip. "Bet you never told him he looked angry."

Chloe slapped her across the face.

It was so quick. Nadine didn't know how Chloe had sat up that fast, or where the wind-up had come from, but clearly those arms were better defined than Nadine gave them credit for.

Because at least one of her ears was ringing and her cheek was Soviet nuclear submarine's core levels of hot.

As she blinked, holding the side of her face, Chloe's words on the phone in the kitchen blending together, Nadine took another deep breath.

She should have gone out for the bread herself. A walk did wonders when you were, yeah, okay, angry.

[magicbystarlight]

Venomous - Part Seven

Masterlist, Part One

Summary: A wife. A mother. A witch with someone else's name. That’s the life you didn’t want. So Tom offered you more.

Word Count: 2,897

Warnings: 18+, arranged marriage, assault, choking (not the fun kind), age gap, fear, Tom Riddle being Tom Riddle, sexual feelings, conflicting feelings, Pureblood politics, classism. Minors DNI.

A/N: Wow this only took, what, 10 & 1/2 months for me to write? I don’t know what it is about @pearlsofme and bringing me inspiration, but you can thank her for this update!

You stared at Abraxas, uncomprehending. He asked for your hand? 

"And she accepted."

"But you're with that Parkinson girl," you stated lamely. Mother made sure you knew all the gossip you could from the events you refused to attend while you were avoiding Tom all summer. Their photos had been plastered all over Witches Weekly. 

"She and I ended up being incompatible."

"But you're a Malfoy. The Malfoy." The Wizarding World's most eligible bachelor. There had to be a line of women willing to throw themselves at him for a chance to be the next Mrs. Malfoy. "You don't need an arranged marriage."

His head tilted, a small smile on his face. "Neither do you." 

The longer you looked at him, the less sense it made. "I don't—I don't understand."

His chest heaved as he released a heavy sigh. “When my mother informed me of the announcement your's had sent out this morning, I felt nauseous. The thought of men twice my age taking you as their wife—I couldn't let that happen."

The world swayed and it was you who felt nauseous now. You had not expected your mother to stoop that low, marrying you off to a man old enough to have been your father would raise too much backlash, but perhaps she would have. Or worse. But it felt wrong to have Abraxas bear the brunt of your mother's punishments.

"Thank you for looking out for me, really, but you don't need to protect me from this. This is my burden, not yours."

"Little Bird," his voice was soft and comforting, like it had been on Boxing Day when you were seven and had fallen off the broom Rick gifted you and scraped your knees. It didn’t cease the unsteadiness of your knees now. "You could never be a burden."

You attempted a chuckle as you said, "Except at a World Cup." There was no humor in your voice. 

His hand reached forward to cradle your cheek. "I understand that this is not an ideal circumstance, but I cannot find it unfavorable. I care for you and cannot imagine a better wife than the woman I already consider a dear friend."

Liar.

You shook your head, not at the man confessing his affections, but at your own sudden and intrusive thoughts. Abraxas had always been a protector of sorts, never complaining when your brother dragged you along with them so you wouldn't have to suffer your parents alone. You had even had a silly little crush on him when you were younger that took longer than you cared to admit to fade away. 

Abraxas was the best match you could have ever hoped for. You may not have gotten a choice, but at least you would be married to a man who loved you in some fashion.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you forced a smile at him. "You've always been too sweet to me.”

“Expect even more of that now that you are the future Mrs. Malfoy,” he teased. You barely managed to suppress the shudder that threatened to roll through you. A witch of someone else’s name. “Would you join me for dinner tomorrow? There’s still much to discuss and a letter doesn’t offer me such a lovely view.”

“Of course, I’ll speak with Professor Merrythought in the morning about it.”

“No need,” he assured, patting the hand that still rested on his arm. “Dippet owes me a favor. I’ll have a Portkey waiting for you in his office at seven.”

"Perfect,” you said, trying not to break your smile. "You should return to Slughorn. The Common Room is close and he must be watching the clock." Please go.

"Yes, he probably is, isn't he? That man never runs out of stories to tell." He leaned down, pressing his lips against your cheeks in a way that made you nearly flinch. "I'll see you tomorrow, Mrs. Malfoy."

“Tomorrow,” you promised, slipping from his grasp and headed down the corridor alone.

Sleep did not come. Both Abigail and Larissa had been in the Common Room when you returned, but only Larissa followed you up to check on you. You didn't tell her about Abraxas. It felt too new and too raw to share. You had thought you would have more time before being officially engaged, but time had never been something you had. It always belonged to others. Your parents, your peers, society, Tom. They had taken it, wasted it, left you with scraps. Now that time belonged to Abraxas.

The sun rose and you with it. You were gone before either of your friends woke. Expectations would be higher now that you were engaged to a Malfoy. Today there would be rumors to deal with after the stunt you pulled with the forest. There was a chance some of the Pureblood students had already heard of your mother's offer of an arranged marriage. Damage control would be needed.

You found cousins in Hufflepuff—ones you'd always kept in touch with and hung around for whatever family events you were dragged too—and let the day pass. They got help with homework and in turn you had eyes and ears for gossip as it evolved throughout the day.

It was early evening as you sat with a group in the stands of the Quidditch Pitch. Gryffindor was meant to be practicing today, but it had been called off at the last minute so Hufflepuff had jumped at the chance to use the field before their match against Slytherin next week. Arabella, a Fourth Year who was the daughter of your father's youngest sister, came scurrying up the stands. 

"Apparently, your mother discovered your affair with Professor Slughorn and is trying to marry you off to save the family from complete disgrace," she wheezed out as she plopped down.

You had a suspicion where that rumor had evolved from. It was a blessing, however. The more extravagant a rumor, the less believable it became. "How tragic," you said with a dramatic sigh. "Our love was one for the ages."

A fit of giggles erupted from the girls in the stands causing glances to be thrown your way from the others who had come to watch the team. Including a group of Slytherins—several members of their team and, of course, Tom—that sat only a few yards away.

In the midst of the giggles, Elphaba, a cousin of a cousin, asked, "So what did actually happen yesterday?"

"Yeah," piped up Eloise, some kind of distant aunt. "Are you actually getting an arranged marriage?"

You had that this was coming all day, patiently waiting for one of them to work up the courage to ask what they were all curious about. "I am," you admitted. "I know they're old fashioned, but it worked out so well for my parents. I couldn't imagine a better love story."

The girls stared at you in disbelief. "You want one?"

"I think it's romantic." They were right to question your lie, but you shrugged shyly.

They exchanged glances. "But, you seemed very upset yesterday?"

"I was, but it's a little bit embarrassing why."

Like Doxies to nesting Billwigs, they took the bait. Begging to be told what could possibly have left you so upset about getting exactly what you wanted. “We were supposed to wait until Christmas Break. I wanted a party for it, you know? A beautiful gown, all my cousins and friends there to support me. Rick too. It was a hard potion to swallow.”

Sympathy flooded in. Of course they understood. You deserved that celebration. How terrible of my mother to not wait.

"It's alright now. It all turned out for the best. I suspect I'll be happier spending time with my fiance over break rather than having a silly little party." You smiled coyly at them, dropping your voice so they had to lean in. "Wiltshire is gorgeous during winter."

The squeals that followed and the excited gasps of “Abraxas Malfoy?” had voided your whisper. You jokingly shushed them, pointedly avoiding the dark stare you knew had turned back to you. 

“It’s not concrete yet. We’re having dinner tonight to talk about it.”

It turned out better than you had anticipated. By the time you left them behind, there was little doubt in your mind that the news of your engagement would have swept across the entire school by the first class tomorrow. You were proud of yourself. It seemed that mother’s lessons had been worth the hours of your childhood they’d stolen. You’d have to remember to owl her your story. Perhaps she might actually be proud of you for it. 

Lost in your thoughts, you failed to hear the fast approaching footsteps. It wasn’t until your body was jerked back, scream muffled by a hand wrapping over your mouth, and dragged behind a mirror on the Fourth Floor that you recognized that you had been followed.

“What is wrong with you?” you demanded as your back hit the wall of a poorly lit tunnel. Another part of the castle you’d never seen before. How many of these places did Tom know about? 

He towered over you “I want to hear you admit it.” he said, hand coming to your throat.

“I have nothing to admit to,” you hissed back, trying to push him off. He was stronger. Your wand was in your sock, out of reach.

His body pressed against you. “These games are growing tiresome. I am not a patient man.” His lips brushed over your ear. “Admit that you want me. That you want us.”

You pushed harder against his chest to no avail. “Green may be your color, but jealousy does not suit you Tom.”

“You misunderstand.” His voice was like honey. “I am not jealous. Jealousy implies that someone else has something I want.” His hand slid up to cup your chin, thumb brushing across your lips. “I am possessive, darling. I don’t like others trying to take what is mine.” 

You weren't a possession and you most certainly didn’t belong to him, but your knickers had still grown damp at his words. 

“I am not yours, Tom," you said in a voice that was surprisingly steady. "And I would appreciate it if you removed your hand."

His hand slid back down your neck, pausing just above the neckline of your dress. Where a necklace would rest. "I am growing tired of the chase, darling. We both know this business with Malfoy isn’t what you want."

Tired of the chase. As if you had been the one who asked him to pursue you. As if you hadn't told him to leave you alone. "You know nothing, Tom. Whatever you think you understand about me you don’t. Abraxas is a perfectly good match, better than I could have ever hoped." 

"But I do know you," he insisted," I know what you want." His hand returned to your neck, thumb rubbing soothing circles against your skin. “And it’s not the life of some child bride pushing out heirs for a man who will never understand you. You want more than that. You want the freedom to sate those questions that burn through your mind. You want to know how I feel, how I can make you feel. You want the life I can offer."

Your breath hitched under his touch and you hesitated under the weight of his words. You could accept. Throw out everything you had been raised to be, embrace the side of you that craved a life dedicated to more. Tom had a bright future ahead of him. He could go anywhere, be anything. And you could do so with him, fight against the tyranny of the system that would turn against you once you no longer bent to their expectations. It wouldn't be easy, but wouldn't it be worth it?

No.

There was no guarantee that anything with him would last long enough for any of that to happen. He was a teenage boy whose interest could fade in an instant. You were not willing to throw your entire life away for a whim. 

“The life of a Pureblood’s wife is better than that of a Half-Blood’s whore.”

It wasn’t necessarily a shot in the dark to call him a Half-Blood. It was almost certainly impossible for him to have been Pureblood and you were fairly certain a Muggleborn wouldn’t have been sorted into Slytherin even if they embodied Salazar himself. And from his reaction, you were right.

"You will watch the way you speak to me." Your airway constricted under the pressure of his hand, leaving you clawing at it as you tried to find air. "I may be fond of you, but I will not suffer such an insult."

White spots speckled your vision, his voice sounding further away. He was going to kill you. He was going to kill you.

Your knees buckled beneath you as he pulled back. Air burned as you swallowed it down greedily, the stone floor cold against your legs.

“I have exercised an excessive amount of patience with you,” he said in a voice so low you could barely hear him, “but that patience is wearing thin.”

The words shredded against your throat as you spoke. “And you have just exhausted mine, Riddle.” You glowered, rising to your feet once again with wand in hand. “Stay away from me. From Abraxas. You will never touch me again. If you try anything, and I mean fucking anything, I will destroy you.”

“Empty threats don’t frighten me.”

"Better to be underestimated," your grip on your wand tightened as you backed away, "Gives me an upperhand."

Whatever conflicting feelings you’d had left for him had vanished by time you arrived in your dorm. He was going to kill you. Maybe not then, not on school grounds where suspects were limited and alibis too easy to disprove. But he could have easily done it. There had been no remorse on his face, no hesitation in his actions.

The water burned as you slide into the tub, Silenced sobs racking your body.

Tom Riddle had never cared for you. He had never wanted you. You had been a chess piece, a mouse, an amusement. You meant nothing to him beyond the entertainment you brought.

You had always known this to some extent. It was why you had hidden away. He was a predator, a snake, and you were his prey. A little bird with clipped wings lured in by the promise of flight. You were stupid. So stupid. Tom Riddle had made life hell for well over half a year, but in only two weeks he had completely decimated it. He’d pilfered your chastity, prompted your betrothal, and left you a tattered remnant of the woman you could have been before he ruined everything.

–

Malfoy Manor was the same as it always was. Grand, foreboding, lifeless. Abraxas had greeted you fondly, his embrace lingering. You were both relieved and anxious at being alone with him as you had expected his parents to join you. You expected them to lay out their expectations for you now that you were to carry their name and legacies. It is what yours would have done.

Dinner passed without the topic of your engagement arising. Abraxas had always had a way with getting you through difficult meals with his charms and this time was no different. Conversation was natural with him, discussing magical theory and the complexities of Potioneering and the latest gossip within your circles. It felt right. 

When the dessert plates had been swept away, he suggested a stroll through the gardens. 

“You have been absolutely wonderful tonight. I don't think I've enjoyed myself this much since, well, since that last dinner we had with Rick," you said as you walked arm-in-arm through the moonlit hedges. You wanted to relish in the easiness of the night after all that had happened. But easy was not something your life ever got to stay. "You’ll make a wonderful husband."

"And you a wife, Little Bird." The old nickname brought heat to your cheeks. He brought you to an old stone bench that sat nestled in an alcove. “We should discuss our plans for the future,” he said as you sat.

You glanced up at him with apologetic caution. “I hope you don’t mind a long engagement. I was hoping to finish school.”

"I would never rob you of your education." He sounded offended. Not angry, but hurt almost. "I don't think that curious little mind of yours could ever handle such a thing."

Your heart clenched. Abraxas cared for you. He understood you. And he would never try to kill you.

"What's wrong?" His voice was coated in concern as he shifted to face you. His hands came up to stroke away the tears that had begun to slide down your face. The silver of his eyes was more pronounced in the moonlit night. With furrowed brows he asked, "Did I upset you?"

"No," you sniffed, "no, Brax. I'm just incredibly grateful for you.”

He pulled you against him, letting your face rest against his chest. You clung to his robes, his arms wrapping around you, and tried to calm yourself. How could you have ever been anything but ecstatic with him?

"I was so scared, Brax."

You could feel the kiss he pressed against your hair. "I'll protect you, Little Bird. Always."

Next

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[ink-sinner]

between the cracks of light and silence

— eirene x chief

genre : fluff

warnings : none

wordcount : 1,247

summary : in this tentative balance, even the slightest shift will tip the scales over the edge. some things should not be said, and some lines are not meant to be crossed. and some thoughts shouldn’t even cross her mind. but, what harm is it if she indulges a bit when no one’s looking?

Long after the bedtime alarms have gone off for the night, Eirene still lingers in your office, still.

She lounges on the couch by the corner, legs crossed on top of each other, looking like the owner of the place. Easy-going, carefree, the bottom of her face hidden by the steaming cup of tea she sips from, you almost forget the person before you is a sinner, and the owner of one of the biggest enterprises in DisCity.

Months of this, a kind of chessboard engraved on the earth, a play that continues past your weekly games. Until now, you still don't know when she's parading a persona in front of you, or if she truly has let her guard down around you.

You are more inclined to believe the latter, most times. She offers you a hand, and you think of sleek-painted pawns moving in her plans; and when her lips tilt into a smile, you envision her queen tearing through your defenses, and locking you in.

But then sometimes, times like these, the moonlight softens the hard edges of her face, blurs away the sharpness in her eyes, and you almost wonder if she sees you as more than an accomplice.

And then it's harder to open your eyes with every blink, and you reassure yourself that it must be the sleeplessness talking. Lately, you have been processing paperwork until dawn break, barely spending an hour to sleep, before your official duties carry you off into the field again.

These days, Eirene prefers to visit your office in the middle of the night, tucked warmly with an expensive silk robe draping to her ankles, and the eerie feeling of her odd-colored eyes peering straight into you. You can't remember when it started, and you never asked her why — she just is there, coming and going as she likes, and you like the oft-silent company enough to not complain.

The air smells of tea leaves and perfume. It's so distinctly her.

“Your efficiency is declining, Chief.”

You look up. She is already looking at you, cupping her cheek in her palm with that same, inscrutable smile on her lips. Your heart leaps to your throat. You don't know why.

“No shit,” you say, and sigh, closing your eyes. You swallow back your yawn, tuck your sleepiness in with a quick pinch to the inside of your wrist. It does little to wake you up. Your eyes burn. “But I need to have all these done before the weekend.”

She puts her cup down on the table. It clinks lightly, and her soft chuckles fills the air.

“My poor, dear chief,” she says. The end of her words trickle into a teasing lilt, and you never know what to make of it, of this, of her. Her fingers tap the space beside her, invitingly. “Come here, bring your papers. Let me look.”

“Hm?”

“Let me look,” she repeats, and raises a brow. “I have experience dealing with paperwork. Or, do you not trust me?”

A challenge. A test. You see it plainly in her eyes, except you can't think clearly enough to see the stakes she's raising. You rub your eyes, and with a long-suffering sigh, gather your papers, and trudge to her side.

Eirene keeps her eyes on you, quiet, watching every step you take.

You have thought this before, but she really is like a predator ready to pounce on prey, lying in wait. Her eyes are bright in the dim lights, and the way she looks at you makes you feel raw and vulnerable. Your chessboard, her immaculate manipulations that never pause.

“What?” You sink to the couch beside her, and rest your papers on the coffee table beside her cup, barely holding in a blissful moan at the soft cushion that hugs your body. Your office chair is too hard, and the relief you feel is immediate. You can't even fight the urge to just close your eyes and sleep, anymore.

“You trust too easily,” she says.

“I doubt there's anything there that Quinn doesn't already know.”

She laughs lightly. “Still. Never offer anything to your enemies.”

She reaches over, and takes the papers into her hands, flicking through the pages easily, delicately. You open your eyes, and look at her.

“Are you my enemy?”

Her hands pause. From this angle, her hair hides her face from your view, flowing down her shoulders into a smooth waterfall. You watch her, you watch her carefully, but Eirene recovers too quickly for you to hone in on anything of substance.

“It depends.” She sections a group of papers away, and looks at you. Her lips are still smiling. “Do you see me as your enemy?”

“No. I don't think you are.”

It slips from your mouth before you can think, and it occurs to you that maybe you should have thought about it more. Hesitated a bit. Been more ambivalent about the truth.

Even this little confession, even the slightest weakness will find a way to hurt you in the future. She taught you this. To know better.

But Eirene only looks pleased at your answer. “Good.”

And it's gone, buried in the sand, a fabricated moment of shared vulnerability. She turns back to your papers and falls silent, and you close your eyes again, before forcing yourself to sit upright, and lean over her shoulder to watch her work. She spares you a glance, and nothing else.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“Separating the actual issues from trash.” She sorts the papers neatly on the table, and places another page on the left side. “Sign these ones tomorrow. The rest are unimportant matters.”

“How do you know that?”

Eirene takes a page, and reads, “An application to build a fully-furnished second recreation room for sinners.”

“Oh.” Your head hurts. “I think I already know who wrote that.”

She flicks it towards the right pile, and within minutes, the huge pile of papers on her hands is already halved, and you can barely keep your eyes open at all. You bite your lip to hide a yawn, and rub your eyes in a futile struggle to stay awake.

“Sleep,” Eirene says. She does not spare a glance at you, but you aren't surprised. “Finish your work in the morning.”

Well. It's not as if you have a choice. You lean back on the couch, and let out a breath. It feels like your last sleep has been years ago with how desperately tiredness clings to you.

“Eirene,” you find yourself mumbling. “Thank you.”

A faint hum. “Consider it . . . a benefit of working together with Quinn.”

(Except when you are already asleep, she drops the papers into her lap, and stares at your sleeping face for a while. So late at night, the only sounds in the room are the faint whirr of the ventilation system, and your breaths. There is no one else but the two of you, no witnesses, no soul to watch.

She raises her hand, and trails her fingers over your cheek, down your neck in contemplative silence. And then she sighs, and turns back to your paperwork.

When morning comes, you wake alone, an expensive silk robe draped over your chest, and your paperwork stacked neatly into two piles, ready for you to sign.

The faint scent of tea and perfume lingers, and it is so distinctly her that your memories of her quiet touch cannot be merely a dream.)

[saintsenara]

#9 and/or #29 for Severus x Sirius?

thanks for the ask, anon!

[ship ask game here]

9. baths or showers together? do they like elaborate ones with bubbles and flower petals?

[our scene opens in number twelve, grimmauld place, in the marble shower enclosure in the master bathroom]

"sirius, get your hands off me! do you have any idea how many people die from falling over in the shower?"

"i'm not trying to fuck you, severus, I'm trying to get you to wash your awful hair."

"very witty. and to think i was going to offer to put a sticking charm on you so you wouldn't lose your balance. but i suppose i'll just have to leave you to sort yourself out..."

"you are the most evil man in the world."

-

[later, we find our heroes jammed at either end of a magnificent, claw-footed bathtub, filled with a mountain of pink bubbles. sirius is wearing a deep-cleansing mud-mask.]

"this is ridiculous."

"stop complaining, severus, i'm the one with the tap poking into my back."

"if you must insist on us taking ridiculous bubble baths together - sirius, is that a water lily? - then we should at least use a bath that can actually fit two people into it."

"i always wanted to have sex in the prefects' bathroom..."

"you and half the school. it's why we had to seal it off."

"but surely you can still get in there..."

"there are many advantages to being headmaster, sirius."

29. what is something they can never agree on? how do they meet in the middle?

harry.

severus mellows, of course, after the end of the war, but all that means is that he likes watching voldemort's death scene over and over again in a pensieve. he still think harry is reckless, foolish, stupid, terrible at potions, lazy, arrogant, profligate, and obsessed with his own celebrity. sirius points out that he's also brave, merciful, kind, talented, and surprisingly willing to suffer through weekly brunches with them both.

they agree to disagree, and instead work on outdoing each other in how they dote on their namesakes and godsons.

james sirius is exactly as ruthless and quick-thinking as both the men who gave him his names. sirius buys him his first toy broom and endures a week of shouting from molly when he falls off it and breaks his collarbone [both harry and ginny agree he was actually pretty close to executing a perfect wronski feint]; he helps him through the animagus transformation and assures james that it isn't funny that his form is a pygmy puff; he buys him exclusively scarlet and gold items for a full eighteen years of birthdays, until james tells him he's now in a cottage-core pastel-boy era and he needs to get on board; and he breaks down in tears of pride when james is hauled out of the wizengamot for interrupting a session on crime to demand they make it an urgent priority to defund azkaban.

albus severus, in contrast, is subtle and sly. severus teaches him all the requisite techniques not only to be a good potioneer but also a magnificent cook and al is molly's favourite grandchild as a result; he adores all the shared in-jokes they have as the only two slytherins in an extended family of gryffindor idiots; he teaches him how to lie fluently and shield his mind from intrusion, which works on everyone except professor mcgonagall [a fact he sees fit to mention with glee to the headstone in little hangleton cemetery reading tom marvolo riddle: woe unto the wicked! it shall be ill with him]; and, when lucius malfoy tries to forbid the relationship between al and scorpius, because he's not simply content with being a terrorist, he's a homophobe as well, severus punches his old friend in the face, never speaks to him again, and goes off for dinner with the potters. which he doesn't actually hate doing.

lily luna's godfather is hagrid. it's chaos.

[eyes-of-mischief]

weekly fic recs | 45

prompt: sleep

fandoms: bnha, mdzs, svsss, tgcf

bnha

Cracked, Fried, and Scrambled by PoppinBoppin

(mature) (graphic depictions of violence, major character death)

On a spring day in April, Kacchan tells Deku to take a swan dive off a roof and hope for a quirk in his next life. 

On a spring day in April, Deku follows a simple sequence of actions. 

Deku leaves school, gritting his teeth with tears in his eyes.

Deku claws Katsuki out of fire and grit and grease and slime. 

Deku walks away, Katsuki screaming at his back. I don’t need your help! You’re Useless! This means Nothing to me!

And Then...

On a spring morning in April, Katsuki arrives at Aldera Junior High early to perform classroom duties, and stops in front of the bloodied corpse of Midoriya Izuku. - Unable to deal with the unbearable guilt of causing his childhood friend's death, Bakugou Katsuki finds a way to see him again.

Meanwhile, Aizawa Shouta deals with an unbearably high mortality rate with his students, even if he takes the right steps to try to stop them.

I'll Sleep When I'm Dead by iizukuus

“IcyHot?” “I need—need help, I can’t, can’t—” Shouto breathes, tears staining his cheeks as he stumbles over to Bakugou, his muscles are weak, heavy—they aren’t working. His legs give out and— ”Easy, easy,” Bakugou stumbles back and keeps Shouto up with his steady arms, holds on to his waist tight. “I don't know what to do,” he hiccups, pressing his face into Bakugou’s shoulder as he sobs and tugs at his shirt, “what’s happening to me?”

Shouto gets hit with a quirk that prevents him from sleeping and reality as he knows it, crumbles before him.

mdzs

let the sun go down on your anger; let it burn you to sleep by enbysaurus_rex

Wei Wuxian's been treating his narcolepsy with his golden core

The core removal changes things

You, Asleep and Dreaming by etymologyplayground

(mature)

Wei Wuxian chuckles and starts pushing Lan Wangji's outer robes off his shoulders. "Poor Lan Zhan, subject to such earthly miseries. You must be exhausted, come to bed, come to bed."

"Mm," Lan Wangji says. He raises his arms so that Wei Wuxian can keep undressing him. His clothes will end up on the floor, but no matter. Wei Wuxian's deft hands at his belts are worth wrinkled robes.

"... Goodness, Hanguang-Jun, you wear too many damned layers," Wei Wuxian tells him after a while. "Would it kill you to stop after a reasonable five?"

--

Wei Wuxian moves into the Jingshi. They sleep together.

like a moonbeam, here you are by typefortydeductions

'At first, Lan Wangji's dreams are the same as they have ever been. Memories of Wei Ying, his unconscious mind re-rehearsing the same events over and over again. But, slowly they begin to change, filtered through with the same silver-blue light that shines throughout the Cold Ponds. In these dreams, Wei Ying is not raving with madness, not close to death. He curls, small and broken, on a rock not unlike Lan Wangji’s own.'

In seclusion, Lan Wangji dreams of Wei Wuxian, and finds his way back to him.

svsss

love's worth running to by ghostybreads

“Shizun,” he purred, darkly calm despite the anger oozing out of his mock-respectful smile. Luo Binghe's grip on Xiu Ya's blade tightened, and he realised with belated horror that his blood was running down the sword and dripping by Shen Qingqiu's feet. His sword had to be held at an upwards angle now, to reach the place where he pierced him back then.

Shen Qingqiu felt sick. There was something wrong in this dream.

“I ask you again. Do you regret it, Shizun?”

//

Shen Qingqiu can't answer whether he regrets betraying him. Luo Binghe wants his Shizun to understand how he suffered, and drags Shen Qingqiu into his dreamscape of the Endless Abyss that night.

The only problem: Shen Qingqiu isn't waking up.

What Dreams May Come by The Feels Whale (miscellea)

(explicit)

In the time between sacrificing himself to stop his estranged disciple’s qi deviation and waking up in his back-up body, Shen Yuan -formerly Shen Qingqiu- experiences a long series of dreams that make him confront quite a few things about himself that he’d been stubbornly ignoring.

Good thing they’re just dreams, right? Otherwise he’d never be able to look Luo Binghe in the eye ever again.

-

Binghe froze under his hands as Shen Yuan brought him into the most gentle hug he could manage. “Still crying?” He asked, only just keeping the unsteadiness out of his voice. He was naked and this was a sex dream and Binghe was crying all over his dick.

He didn’t need his kinks spelled out for him quite this explicitly, thanks.

-

Or: two horny idiots finally get out of their own way.

tgcf

To see the next part of the dream by goodbye_blue

“I’m sorry Gege, I’m just a bit surprised. Let me make sure I am understanding this correctly,” he said, taking half a step forward. “You are real and also asleep. I am also real, and not a figment of your imagination. We are both real, and asleep, and dreaming the same dream right now.” Xie Lian shrugged. “It looks like it.”

When Xie Lian gets hit by a curse, he winds up sharing his dreams with a certain ghost king who would very much like to know where he is in real life.

Galatea by zarasu

(mature) (graphic depictions of violence)

Caught in the coffin, Xie Lian's desperation reaches a level that splinters his cursed shackles a little. From then on, he finds himself in one of the statues in the Cave of Ten Thousand Gods every time he dreams. His only hope of escaping the coffin completely is asking the mysterious sculptor for help who regularly appears in the cave to work on one of the statues.

[inmyfxith]

First Love, Part. I

Pairing: Jimmy Darling x reader

OC: None

Warnings: None

Words: 2k7

Part. II, Part. III, Part. IV

Living in Jupiter, Florida, proved to be no picnic. Especially when your family found herself among the most respected in the community. Recognized as a small settlement, Jupiter appeared to be a crowded town. Many people in the community seemed to have known each other for decades. Rarely would you find a single inhabitant who did not share a blood connection with another.

We must go back in time to acknowledge where these connections originated. The first settlers moved to the area in the eighteenth century. At that time, some Indian tribes were living there. In order not to lose the pure blood of the white man, many of them united themselves through marriages. Thus, the births linked to the intermarriages created the community of Jupiter.

You came to be no different. Your parents' relationships grew out of their high school years. Because they lived in the same neighborhood, their exchange intensified over the years. A wedding soon followed, and soon, Jupiter welcomed a new little soul. The blowing of your fifth candle featured the entry of the USA into World War II. Like many other men of his generation, your father suffered from the mobilizations. Yet, he soon found his way back home.

Your calm and respectful nature strengthened your parent's conviction to extend the family. Three new faces appeared to the delight of your father, for whom a large family meant prosperity. He received three boys who would carry on the family name with pride and continuity. Soon, your role as the eldest took a new meaning.

Growing up, you learned to look after yourself and your brothers. While your father worked, your mother attended a lot of Tupperware meetings. Police detective, he rarely found himself at home. No one could follow your mother to the meetings. She claimed you tended to be too young or that you would get bored.

So, to make pocket money, you dedicated your free time to babysitting. With your hard-earned money, you gave yourself a weekly treat. Every Wednesday, you enjoyed going to the local diner. There, you could eat a mixed salad and read the newspaper. Your break could, sometimes, include a walk by the Jupiter Lighthouse.

Like the other children of Jupiter, your future seemed set. From your future career to the man you would marry. Yet, some areas remained unclear. Unfortunately for your parents, their plans were about to fall through.

The first obstacle to your success involved a man named Jimmy Darling. He used to show up at the diner on Wednesday afternoons. The first few times, you walked past each other without noticing each other's presence. Well, without him ever noticing you. The young man sat opposite you. His favorite pastime was flirting with the waitress. Carol's greatest dream tended to be fleeing from Jupiter. To achieve it, she worked at the diner five days a week.

The reason Jimmy didn't notice you remained simple. You usually arrive before him and hide behind the Jupiter-Tequesta Inquirer. But this time appeared to be different. Due to a delay, the young man took his seat a few minutes before you.

As you pushed open the door to the diner, you greeted Carol with a pleasing smile on your face. The waitress stood behind the counter, close to the man with the gloves, as she called him. When she heard you, she straightened up to respond.

"I thought you wouldn't come in this week!" Carol flashed a smile at Jimmy before handing you the day's newspaper. Your attention went immediately to the cover of the newspaper.

Your father's work as a detective with the Jupiter Police Department never made it past the door. He never talked about his investigations or what was going on in town. So the newspapers turned out to be your only source of information on the subject. A murder happened recently. A milkman had found a woman dead in her own home. According to the police, the only suspect appeared to be a girl with two heads. The headlines mentioned a two-headed freak. Curious about it, you turned the pages with great attention. At some point, your elbow bumped into your neighbor's. By the time you got there, no one was next to you. Thus, you excused yourself.

"First time?" your neighbor came out to be Jimmy Darling. Besides the delightful smile on his lips, dimples formed on her cheeks. The black leather cap matched his jacket and gloves, which he never seemed to take off.

With round eyes, you found yourself unable to answer his simple question. His gaze roamed on the newspaper you were holding before Carol came to your rescue. The waitress brought your salad. As you blushed, she took the initiative to answer.

"Y/N comes in every Wednesday for lunch. Always at this place, she orders the same meal." Carol offered you an understanding smile as she leaned toward the two of you.

Not used to these exchanges, you put a lock of brown hair behind your ear.

"No way! How could I have missed such beauty?" Jimmy tended to be a smooth talker, and you knew it. Yet, your body kept expressing discomfort as you blushed even more.

Still speechless, your eyes met Carol's. Jimmy understood your discomfort and, like a gentleman, he jumped out of his seat. The young man exchanged some words with Carol. He speculated he would be back the following Wednesday since he now had something to look after. Raising your eyes toward him, he threw you a ravaging smile. Jimmy also winked at you before leaving the diner.

That brief interaction filled your mind for the rest of the afternoon. And your imagination allowed itself to invent the next meeting. Jimmy hadn't lied. The following Wednesday, he showed up for dinner again. But also those that followed. He allowed himself the pleasure of coming to make conversation by buying you a drink here and there. Jimmy revealed himself as reserved when you asked him about personal subjects.

Over time, your shell broke, allowing him to discover what kind of woman you were. "What if we went for a ride together? We'll take my bike!" Jimmy suggested, on a whim, when you had finished your salad. If he had made this proposal on the previous Wednesday, there is no doubt that you would have accepted it. Unfortunately, the timing could not have been worse. One of your father's colleagues had asked to see your mother at the police station. As a result, you had to watch your brothers for the rest of the afternoon. Without refusing his proposal in its entirety, you offered to pick you up at your school the next night.

In front of your house, a police car parked as if the driver came in a hurry. It was not your father's car. You would have recognized it by the little bear that hung under its rearview mirror. Approaching the front door, Detective Jack Colquitt emerged from the house. His face bore an overwhelmed look. Colquitt knew you since you were born, he had never been the best policeman in Jupiter, yet he would do his job. Once he passed you, he shook his head before getting back into his car.

"Jack came to ask me if I'd heard from your father in the last few days." Ready to go to bed, your mother wore a mustard yellow bathrobe to hide her faded nightgown. Her arms crossed, the expression on her face detailed anxiety.

"Don't tell your brothers." As said before, your father rarely goes away for very long without giving any news. He used to call the police station or even your mother to inform them where he was. But this time, Robert Bunch left only a family and colleagues in a state of worry and incomprehension. Things must have been important enough for Jack to go on his own when the meeting got scheduled at the police station.

The next evening, you waited for Jimmy for almost an hour, but he never showed up. So you walked home, telling yourself how stupid you were to think that a boy like him could be interested in you.

The following Wednesday, you didn't show up at the diner. You changed your day to ensure that you wouldn't run into him, yet you did. He immediately sat down beside you. His face showed a guilty expression that you missed right away.

Jimmy stood so close to you that the fabric of his jacket almost caressed your arm. With a wave of his gloved hand, he motioned for Carol to bring him what he used to order before turning back to you.

"Look, doll, I wanted to come to you, but there's..." Jimmy started before you cut him off, which wasn't something you used to do.

"You don't need to apologize... because I'm not mad at you." you continued, but your intervention didn't manage to convince him. He moved closer to you, so close you could feel his breath caressing the side of your neck.

"There was a problem where I work. That's why I couldn't pick up my angel for a motorcycle ride." His comments made you grin against your will. You wanted to forget about this smooth talker, but he was good. So, you turned to him, a slight smile on your lips.

"Tell me where you work, and I'll come to see you since you can't get away." Flashing his charming smile again, Jimmy still seemed to hesitate for a moment. He ended up writing it on the small piece of paper you had handed him, where you could find him.

A little bit naive, and even if you didn't recognize the address, you showed up there one morning. You cooked a full plate of pancakes to sweeten the deal with Jimmy's coworkers. When your mother asked where you wanted to go, you lied, pretending of a meeting with a classmate. She called a taxi but ordered you to come back early because she needed to see her own friends.

The smell of hot pancakes wafted into the car, and the driver asked for one as payment. Closing the door, your plate in your hands, you couldn't believe your eyes. Tents stretched as far as the eye could see. Large banners praising the merits of frightening personalities were floating in the wind. These elements raised doubts about the truthfulness of Jimmy's words.

Observing your movements, a young woman approached you. In an aggressive tone, she informed you that the ticket office did not seem open before yelling that you should not stay. Taking courage, you asked her if she knew Jimmy Darling. The young woman looked at you from head to toe before asking you to wait.

So you did, taking care not to let your eyes linger where they shouldn't. At some point, your knight in shining armor appeared. His leather gloves still protecting his hands. The expression on his face made him glow, as did the dimples on his cheeks as he smiled at you.

"You came!" He exclaimed while his appearance had brought a stupid smile to your face. He observed the dish you were holding in your hands and relished the faint smell of rum from it.

"I didn't tell you I was coming, so to make up for it, here are some pancakes!" Jimmy pretended to have a surprise for you too. He then led you to the center of the camp, his hands resting on your eyes to prevent you from cheating.

Still holding your plate, you groped your way forward to avoid falling. After some steps, both of you stopped. You took a moment to listen to the sounds and assumed people were around you.

When Jimmy removed his hands, you stayed stunned by the vision. A small group of people sitting around a wooden table stared at you with round eyes. Among them, a woman of above-average proportions took a sip of water. Next to her stood a shorter man with arms that looked malformed. As she slid down the bench with her arms, your body took a step back when you noticed that the woman in front of you had no legs.

A young man appeared to polish chicken eggs with great attention. Your back hitting Jimmy's chest made you realize how unwelcome your behavior was. Embarrassed by it, you finally tried to break the ice.

"If I had known, I would have made more pancakes." Your peculiar comment made Jimmy chuckle. He turned away for a few moments so you wouldn't think he could be making fun of you. The man with the malformed and tattooed arms approached you. With a lot of sympathies, he shook your hand. After introducing himself as Paul, he took your plate. You met Amazon Eve and Suzi. Jimmy introduced you to Meep, Pepper, and Salty before inviting you around the table. His face seemed more relaxed than when he met you next to the cab.

Once seated around the table, they enjoyed your cooking as if it was not something usual.

Some of them let out slight groans after the first bite, and when the dish ended up empty, many of them seemed pained. You stood there for a long time talking and getting to know people you don't get to meet on the street.

A little shy at first, you eventually relaxed. They were different from the descriptions people were giving of them. And you ended up blaming yourself for ever believing what they said.

"I have an uncle who became a clown in a freak show. My mother found him very friendly. But he left Jupiter a few months after I was born. I don't know what happened to him."

Discussions continued throughout the afternoon. It wasn't until you saw the sky turn orange that you realized what time it was. Your mother would worry about your absence. It was inconceivable to torture her any further after your father's unexplained departure.

"I promise to come back as soon as I can.." you announced as Pepper had wrapped her arms around you and didn't want to let go. But Eve managed to convince her to let you go. Jimmy called you a cab. On the way to your starting point, you announced that you might be coming back with your brothers. Such animation in town could only be positive for their morale, and especially yours.

Letting your eyes wander one last time, the decoration of a caravan caught your attention. Attached to Jimmy's first and last name was a nickname that made you frown, "Lobster Man". You stopped, forcing your friend to ask you what was going on. Not wishing to appear rude, his gloves appeared as your way of finding out the truth.

"You're not wearing your gloves because you're cold, are you?" You asked with a slight smile, you had never believed his story but you gave him the benefit of the doubt. Your remark seemed to bring up anxiety in him, the same you had already felt when he took his hands away from your eyes. You approached, wanting only to reassure him.

“Whenever you’re ready,” your voice was identical to the one you used with your brothers. When they came to you whenever they had some kind of problem your parents couldn’t solve. Plunging your gaze into his, you didn’t notice that he was about to tell you his most shameful secret. Jimmy dropped his gloves to the floor, but you hadn’t even glanced at what he was hiding underneath the cloth. Your heart had started beating faster. Your own hands were sweaty, and before you knew it, your faces were dangerously close. And your lips ended up touching.

It was both gentle and violent. Gentle because neither of you wanted to hurt the other. Violent because it was the thing you had both been dreaming of doing for some time. Jimmy’s hands quickly grabbed your waist as one of yours found refuge in the lobster man’s hair.

The cab driver’s horn, yet, made the moment that seemed almost dreamlike stop. It was the first time you kissed someone like that, the first time you kissed someone. Opening the cab door, Jimmy placed one last kiss on your lips as a goodbye. He begged you to promise to come back and see him. Which you obviously did.

[ollie-monster]

Transform Silence into Action

Dear reader, I am not new to silence - I silence myself in so many ways, not even letting expression of who I am through. But this is not the time for silence. This is not the time to be a bystander - it is a time to learn, to reflect deeply, to speak out, and to act. This page has a good starter kit for reaching out to politicians.

I am here as a Jewish 3rd generation Holocaust survivor to say,

stop killing our cousins! stop killing people!

As someone who has been highly attuned to the suffering of genocidal violence, I purposefully align myself with others targeted by these kinds of harm. I know that punishing, displacing, traumatizing, killing others is not the way to a world where my people or any people can live in well-being and peace.

It is all too easy for our own traumas, our own victimhood to translate into justification for harming others - to say, "I have been hurt these ways, and so it is Okay or even Right for me to hurt others like this, to get what I need to live well".

This is not the only possible response, though. Through the powers of transformative justice and other many paths of growing, healing, and well-being, it truly is possible for all life to exist in balance and flow with each other. May we be people who say - "I have been hurt, You have been hurt, They have been hurt in these ways - We never want anyone to be hurt like this ever again." I know the Palestinian people deserve to be free from harm, free to return, free to be welcomed back joyously by their land. May their homes be returned and rebuilt, may their trees sink roots deep and grow branches full of luscious fruit. May all Palestinian people have ample time, space, and support to mourn and heal.

may it be so. may it be so. may it be so.

we must acknowledge the sheer scale of the losses happening now. with 14,000 dead and more being killed every day, this not just individuals, not just families, but entire bloodlines, and many of them - hundreds upon hundreds, steadily moving towards a thousand. A thousand whole family groups, whole last names, whole bloodlines, just gone from the world. Those who have not been killed by the bombs and guns are dying of starvation, dehydration, and exposure to the elements and toxicity from bombs and rubble - outside under tarps, as the cold moves in. ALL of these are preventable deaths, and ALL of them are purposefully created. This four day ceasefire (ahead of which the Israeli military has rolled out four days worth of bombing in one day) is not the end of these atrocities, and we need to continue to find our voices - not sink into complacency with a 'pause'. In fact, Israel's defence minister has outright stated that they will resume 'fighting' for at least two months after the 'pause' has ended.

we all deserve to live in a world without mass murder; the Palestinian people deserve to be free. As do Armenian people, Congolese people, Wet'sue'ten people, Sudanese people, Yemeni people, Romani people, and all peoples facing genocide - especially those Indigenous and diasporic. All of these ongoing massacres and genocides are supported by the same network of Imperial power.

Rise. Learn. Speak. Act.

Look up where and when your local protests and direct actions are happening - many cities have weekly events. Call your government reps - or if that's too daunting, email and fax them. Check out the BDS short list of targeted boycotts. Speak about these tragedies and how they hurt us all with your friends, your family, and the people around you as much as possible.

Let us join together to create a safer, kinder, more whole world, with dignity and freedom from harm for all. With a heavy yet determined heart, ollie o.

[strongheartmaid]

Time for Whale Weekly Meta

First: In the year 1820 the ship Essex, Captain Pollard, of Nantucket, was cruising in the Pacific Ocean

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Essex_(whaleship) - also, fun fact - Melville actually met the son of Owen Chase (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Owen_Chase) and the son gave Melville a copy of Owen’s book.

Incidentally, not mentioned by Melville but another ship, the Ann Alexander also was stove in (smashed inward) by a whale in the same exact area. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ann_Alexander_(ship) 

Secondly: The ship Union, also of Nantucket, was in the year 1807 totally lost off the Azores by a similar onset, but the authentic particulars of this catastrophe I have never chanced to encounter, though from the whale hunters I have now and then heard casual allusions to it.

Apparently, the Union was an accidental whale strike. It gets mentioned in the article about the Ann Alexander. Also, for those interested, there’s a copy of the report here: https://archive.org/details/odhs-1137-a 

, on board a Nantucket ship in the harbor of Oahu, Sandwich Islands.

Sandwich Islands - Hawaii

Some weeks after, the Commodore set sail in this impregnable craft for Valparaiso

Valparaiso is in Chile. Also, there was a naval engagement that happened there and Melville did make commentary about it. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Valpara%C3%ADso

Incidentally, I’m not sure it’s the same ship that the aforementioned Commodore J--- was the captain of but this particular sloop of war was in the area and did suffer a whale strike: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/USS_Peacock_(1813)

Langsdorff, you must know by the way, was attached to the Russian Admiral Krusenstern

Krusenstern: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Adam_Johann_von_Krusenstern

Langsdorff: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Georg_von_Langsdorff (And apparently, he got very friendly with the locals since he has 1,500 descendants in Brazil.)

Now, the Captain D’Wolf here alluded to as commanding the ship in question, is a New Englander, who, after a long life of unusual adventures as a sea-captain

I’m not 100% sure - but if Captain D’Wolf is the one I found while looking up the name, then whoo-boy, unusual adventures is a vast understatement. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/James_DeWolf. The other option is John DeWolf. “ Capt. John DeWolf (1779–1872), a grandson of Mark Anthony DeWolf through his son Simon DeWolf. He was also known as John DeWolf II and "Norwest John". After many years exploring the coast of Alaska and the Northwest on the board of the ship Juno, he crossed the Pacific Ocean, then Siberia all way to St. Petersburg, Russia, by land, becoming the first American who crossed Asia. He captured this 1804–1807 expedition in his 1861 book A Voyage to the North Pacific and a Journey through Siberia More Than Half a Century Ago. “

he voyage of Lionel Wafer, one of ancient Dampier’s old chums

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lionel_Wafer - well, he’s fun. Lovely fellow for a pirate.

scooting back up to the top because I wasn’t paying attention to the named whales: 

as it not so, O New Zealand Jack! thou terror of all cruisers that crossed their wakes in the vicinity of the Tattoo Land?

Except New Zealand Jack (or rather Pelorus Jack) from what I could find was a dolphin! And he only got pissed off at one ship because they fucking shot at him.  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pelorus_Jack

[angel4astraea]

𝐓𝐈𝐌 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐇𝐂

ft. Timothy Wright, Brian Thomas, mentions of Jay and Alex.

cw. smoking, mentions of death & pills, fem!reader.

a/n. i miss brian so much, can’t even tell u how much. when i finished the series, i sobbed so hard. poor timmy :((((

When it comes to falling in love with Tim, it'd be in college before Marble Hornets. You two might have met through Brian when the three of you met for a cheap dinner. Being college kids means that money is tight and fresh foods might not be all that accessible all the time.

When Tim first met you, he was admittedly a little timid. He never really had a heart struck moment like then. The way you joked around, your smile and overall being had brought him butterflies and sweaty palms. Of course, Brian knew what he was doing when he brought you along for dinner that night.

After that night, the two of you communicated over the phone and sometimes met up. The three of you, Brian, Tim and yourself, had formed an unofficial friend group. It was lovely having two friends that would make your life a little more interesting. With Tim, he tried to impress you a little by showing you what he was studying currently and topics within the subject. He wasn't one to show off his collections that he didn't own or even go on thrill seeking adventures. He was realistic but had hope that you'd accept him for who he was. In the end, his subtle charms worked when the two of you went on a casual date.

Tim was content for the first time, pushing the negativity from his fucked up past away. He couldn't ruin the second good thing in his life. The first was Brian becoming his friend, his first true friend. Now, you came into his life and lit his heart on fire with intense emotions. He wanted to protect you, hell, he wanted to stay with you forever if he could feel like this.

The dates became regular. Between classes, you'd make a quick coffee run a date. Even though the both of you were undoubtedly tired, you two still made the best out of what you had. One thing that wasn't a date was his doctor visits.

It was odd, he wouldn't tell you about what was going on. The weekly visits were always hush hush. When you asked about how it went, he would say good. Period. Nothing else about it. The topic must have been sensitive, you could tell from a mile away. In the end, pushing him would only end up with Tim either ignoring you for a short period of time or snapping at you to stop. That was the only untouched topic of the relationship.

Despite that, Tim is a loving man. He cares for you when you're sick, on your period or when you accidentally sprain your ankle. He does the best he can every time, kissing the top of your head with such endearment. He'll cook the most basic things but the effort is what he masters at. He puts energy into the things that will affect you, he wants you to shake off this illness unlike him. He still suffers from his, making him protective over you.

When Marble Hornets is being filmed, there was a shift in Tim's behaviour, Brian as well. This Alex guy must have irritated the both of them, you think. You decide to ask Brian about what's going on and he can't even give a straight answer, shrugging it off. The confusion will set in however it would be forgotten until Jay reappears in your lives.

It had been years since the filming, why now? Apparently Jay had been snooping around for quite some time now. Tim had come home more aggravated than usual, pulling you in for a tight embrace after dry swallowing a pill. Something was wrong, very wrong. You could smell it in the air, in his cigarette smelling shirt. You had begged him to let you in for once, pleading to tell you what had happened that left him so traumatized.

Tim will only explain it so that you won't go off on your own or to Jay. Either choice would end up with you getting too deep into something you shouldn't have even looked at. He'll explain why he goes to the doctors, the pills and then what Jay is doing. He'll tell you to avoid Alex Kralie, do what you have to do to stay away from him. He'll even encourage you to buy a gun if you have to as Alex has that height on you, weight even. He could take you just as easily as a small rock without remorse.

You wanted to ask Brian about this but he was gone. Just. . gone. There wasn't a note, text message, phone call, voice message. . nothing. One of your best friends disappeared into the wind. It confused you, why would he leave everyone behind? Tim could only tell you that he will be fine, Brian finds a way out always.

The next step was taken when that hooded man broke into your's and Tim's house while you were asleep. Tim was thrown into a coughing fit and seizure. Yet, you didn't wake up until you heard the door slam behind him. Shaken by the bizarre action, you search the house and find the small bin that held his medication knocked over. The bottle was missing, his bottle of pills. The only thing you could think to do was call Jay and ask if you could come over to his motel room.

When you arrive at his room, you told him what happened or least what you think happened. Breaking down, you sob to your new friend and admit your fears of what Tim had shifted into; the mood swings, the pills being taken more than usual, chain smoking. . it made you so scared for the future. Jay had comforted you the best he could, allowing you to sleep in the extra bed until later. He had woken you up and then the unimaginable happened after a brief tracking. .

Timothy had attacked you and Jay.

It was a moment you never forgot, bits and pieces still foggy in the back of your mind after you woke up in the shed with Jay, Tim not too far off. You were disoriented and relied on your lover to carry you back to the car, legs too sore from whatever happened. In some sort of natural alarm, your body told you to run away. You didn't.

The entire time Jay was with Tim, you had fallen 'ill' to the sickness. There was these hallucinations, the bloody noses, confusion. . Tim had been stretched thin, so, you didn't tell him. He knew something was off but he pushed it aside, telling himself that you were fine, everything was fine with you.

Everything was fine when he made love to you when he could but it was few and between movements of motels. Tim still loved you, despite his night and day 'mood' changes. He tried to give you everything but everyone was just. . messed up. He just wished he never signed up for that stupid little thing. Maybe he wouldn't of infected everyone.

But when the end was near, when he almost escaped clean, he broke. Tim had killed not only Alex but his best friend, Brian. Everything was in shambles, he just hoped--hell, prayed that you were still at the motel room that you rented for the time being.

When he returned from that life changing scene, he was covered in blood and disoriented. You had assumed the worst and began to silently help him out of the clothes that smelled of iron. You made him shower, sitting in the tub while you wrapped your arms around his torso, wondering if the shower would hide your own warm tears. He was numb, you were a little numb too. Yet, you were withholding something that might help him regain a little humanity. You felt guilty, face pressing into the shoulder blade of your lover.

The following days, you packed up whatever you had left from your bag, ready to move on from this town. Tim was silent, unwilling to speak unless it was easy answers. The acts of affection had been soft yet fearful. He didn't want you to disappear or he didn't want you to get hurt by him. Even though you forgave him, Tim still felt his guts twist.

He threw away the mask, the two of you said goodbye to Jessica and made your way away from the town.

On the drive, after he flipped the camera around, you took his free hand and placed it on your stomach. With such tenderness, you smiled and hoped he would understand.

Maybe a baby to light his way would help him heal.