#as per uzh

[v-arbellanaris]

still working plotting for my main fic and yknow. i see a lot of posts laughing at cassandra/the inq/justinia/whoever for wanting to recruit hawke as the inquisitor but like there's actually a lot of really disturbing tones to it, when i thought it through.

cassandra recruits cullen into the inquisition. and yeah, he comes in as a military commander, despite the fact that he has no military experience, but i think that's more related to like. the roots of the first inquisition. they later became the templars and the seekers -- cullen is military commander not because they expected to have to fight anyone but because justinia was going to use the writ to build the chantry's military strength if the bloody conclave didn't work out. cullen was hired because he's the fucking knight-commander of kirkwall, and justinia wants him to rebuild the templars. i know people like to laugh about it because it makes "no sense" but the military commander was never meant to do the kind of fighting they ended up having to do in the game -- it was intended to remake the templars. cullen trained hundreds of templar recruits in kirkwall and he's one of the only few that hasn't broken away from the chantry despite the dissolution of the nevarran accord. he's the most obvious pick for commander, when you consider what the inquisition wants.

bw canon hawke is a mage hawke who sided w the mages in kirkwall. they recruited a templar that knows him personally, that has had an antagonistic relationship with him in the later years, that knows how he works and thinks. if they had gotten their hands on hawke, do you actually think they wouldve politely asked him to lead the inquisition?

[tabooiart]

little attempt at a justinjuice since i see beetlejuice in (checks phone) TWO WEEKS?????

[queenie-ofthe-void]

Confessions

Steddie || ~2.3k words || rating: T || tags: post vecna, references to stancy, angst and fluff, robin buckley just being herself

~~~

Eddie and Robin were just finishing filling the snack bowls and mixing drinks when they heard a knock at the door. It’s a Friday night– and not what Eddie would consider a late hour–but they weren’t expecting anyone to join their weekly movie night at Steve’s. 

He glances at Robin who shrugs, shaking her head. As he rounds the kitchen counter towards the foyer, Steve’s voice carries down the hallway.

“Nance?” He sounds surprised too.

“Steve, I’m sorry I know it’s late, but I’ve been meaning to talk to you and I can’t wait anymore,” she says. Eddie can’t see her, but she sounds anxious. 

“This can’t be good,” Robin huffs. He agrees, if the sinking pit in his stomach is any indicator.

“Look, Nance, now’s not really–”

“Steve,” she barrels over him, sounding desperate. “I’ve been an idiot trying to convince myself that I haven’t missed you since we broke up– and before you say it, this isn’t because Jonathan left after we closed the last gate. When we were stuck there with Robin and Eddie, the way you looked at me was how I’ve always hoped someone would love me. You looked at me like I was everything to you, like you could look at me forever and never get tired of it. I feel wanted, and loved, and safe when I’m around you.” She takes a deep, steadying breath before pressing on.

“Last time, when we were together, I took all of my grief and anger out on you. I blamed you for  what happened to Barb because I couldn’t face it myself and I knew you loved me enough to hold the weight, and I resented you for it. You wouldn’t stand up to me, and I resented you because you loved me anyway.” Eddie can hear Nancy sniffling, small sobs carrying down the hallway. “You loved me at my worst, and you didn’t deserve that. You’re amazing, and strong, and kind and everything I could ever ask for.

“Steve, what you said in the Winnebago, I just, I can’t stop thinking about you. About us”

The silence that follows is stifling and Eddie feels bile climbing up his throat. Arms wrap around his shoulders as Robin tucks her head into his neck. Only a small comfort while months of gentle moments with Steve flash behind his eyes: soft hands brushing his curls, stolen glances, lingering touches, and warm smiles. Now Eddie’s forced to stand vigil as it’s all washed away by Nancy's whispered pleas.

A spark of hope after a late night confession months ago– swiftly blown away.

“Nance, please–”

“Steve Harrington, I lo–”

“Nancy,” Steve interrupts, his tone firm yet soft around the edges, “I’m in love with someone else.”

Robin gasps into his neck. Her arms around his shoulders squeeze tight, anchoring him to reality in the wake of Steve’s confession. His chest is so full he can’t breathe. 

“Oh,” Nancy whispers before another, deeper sob leaves her breathless. He never thought he’d hear Nancy Wheeler cry. Even though they’re apparently both in love with the same man, he’s grown close with her too and can’t help the urge to comfort her. Eddie’s grown to love everyone in his new found family. But Nancy is right. 

Steve Harrington is everything. 

And Eddie’s everything is Steve Harrington.

“Yeah Nance, I’m sorry. And they’re kind of here right now, so,” he says gently.

And they’re kind of here right now…

Hope flames in his chest, blooming with warmth. Eddie doesn’t hear the conversation end over the buzzing in his own head and Robin’s frantic giggling until they hear the click of the front door and Steve’s footsteps coming towards them.

“Oh.”

Steve’s standing in front of them, wide-eyed like a deer in headlights. Eddie’s realizing he and Robin maybe should’ve hid before Steve rounded the corner to find them eavesdropping. 

“So,” Steve stammers, a fierce rouge burning his ears, “how much of that did you hear, exactly?”

Robin quickly stands, clearing her throat before Eddie can think of an answer. “Is that the microwave? Did anyone else hear the microwave ding? I think the popcorn is done, so I can go check that right now. Yeah, right now. I’ll just, umm, be in the kitchen checking the popcorn. For the movie.”

She practically sprints down the hall, and although she wasn’t subtle, Eddie’s still thankful for the privacy. Steve’s shaking his head with a small smile on his face.

“Everything,” Eddie answers. “We heard everything.”

“Oh,” Steve says again. He sounds anxious and unsure, something Eddie’s compelled to fix, because all he wants in this world is for Steve Harrington to be happy.

“It’s ok.” He takes Steve’s hands in his own, tracing his thumb lightly over his knuckles. “We won’t say anything to her about it, and we won’t tell anyone what she said. Nancy’s in safe hands with us. Mum’s the word!” And as Eddie mimes zippering up his mouth, he hopes that Steve won’t take the easy way out. That he won’t use the life-raft Eddie’s just thrown in his direction to keep him from drowning. 

“Right,” Steve says. He runs a hand through his hair, biting his lip as he gazes at the floor between them. The silence as Eddie waits for Steve’s next words grows long and tense. He can’t hear any movement in the kitchen, making him more anxious now that he knows Robin’s listening. Which, he’d be a hypocrite to be mad about.

Maybe he has this all wrong. Maybe Steve just needed a way to get her to leave, so he lied about having a date over. Maybe he didn’t know what to say, and just said the first thing to pop into his head. Maybe it’s got nothing to do with Eddie at all. 

Eddie realizes he’s still holding Steve’s hands, his grip tightening the longer he spirals. If it hurts, Steve hasn’t said anything. But when Eddie looks at his face, he seems dazed and lost in thought. As fast as if he’d been burned, Eddie drops Steve’s hands and takes a step backward.

“So,” Eddie stammers, voice shaking, “I’m going to go help Birdie with the popcorn. You want to get another movie started?”

Hands still frozen in the air, Steve finally lets his clenched fists fall to his sides. Eddie can see the whites of his knuckles. He hears Steve sigh, exhausted and frustrated, but Steve’s nodding with furrowed brows and taking a step backward towards the living room– away from Eddie. Too far to reach out to.

Turning away, Eddie’s in the middle of forming an escape attempt when he opens the kitchen door to immediately be swept up in Robin’s arms. Of course she’d been listening. He’s grateful for it, now that he doesn’t have to explain himself. As he buries his face into her neck, he finds a wet patch and wonders what kind of accident she got into while prepping snacks. It’s not until she starts gently shushing him that he realizes he’s crying, tears soaking into her shirt. 

“It’s gonna be ok, teddy bear,” she says, running her hand through his curls, “he’ll get there, I promise. He’s working on it, you know that.”

He nods. He does know that. Steve’s been out to Robin for a few months, but only to Eddie for a few weeks. He deserves the space to figure it out, and the grace of those around him to do so at his own pace. Still, Eddie can’t help his growing impatience alongside the increasing severity of his crush. At least Robin’s here to support the both of them.

The two of them finish gathering the snacks in silence. She was full of awkward jokes to try to lighten the mood, but when it was clear Eddie was stuck in his head, she’d stopped. He feels bad about it. He’ll make it up to her later, plus he knows she’s not upset with him. Eddie suspects they’ll be getting together sometime tomorrow to rehash everything that’s happened– after she’s finished consoling Steve, of course.

When they leave the kitchen, Eddie’s surprised to find Steve exactly where he’d left him. He’s standing frozen in the hallway, lip pulled between his teeth and hands still clenched. But when he lifts his gaze to meet Eddie’s, there’s resolve behind his eyes.

“Eddie,” Steve says, “I think I’m falling in love with you.”

“Oh my god! Finally!”

Eddie jumps violently at Robin’s shouting, almost directly into his ear. She’s flushed red with embarrassment decorated with a manic grin so wide he wonders if it’ll just keep stretching like taffy. There’s popcorn poured out onto the floor from where she clearly threw her hands up in excited exasperation. He watches as her eyes grow wide, her smile morphing into shock, her lips forming a perfect ‘o’, as if to say ‘oh shit, I just interrupted the most important moment in my best friends’ lives because I’m so excited and impatient that these two dinguses finally figured their shit out’.

She kicks the scattered popcorn towards the wall, like that’ll somehow hide the mess, before awkwardly passing them both down the hall towards the living room.

Eddie loves her so much.

“Huh,” Eddie chuckles, “well that was–”

“I’ve known I’ve liked you since last summer when you let me help you into my pool onto Holly’s rubber duck floaty so you could finally go swimming after you finished physical therapy.” Steve sounds out of breath, words running into each other with misplaced breaths in between. Like if he stops, he knows he won’t start again. 

It’s the only time Eddie’s felt the urge to keep quiet– when he’s not fighting for his life.

“You were so nervous,” Steve plows on, “but you said you felt safe with me, that you wanted only me to be there. You said you trusted me to help without laughing or judging you. Fuck, Eddie, you were so goddamn cute once we got you settled in with a Coke with a crazy straw in it. We were listening to ABBA and you didn’t even complain and you were so sunburnt the next day. It was the happiest I’d ever seen you.”

The memory leaves Eddie shocked. He did trust Steve to help, didn’t even consider asking anyone else because Steve just felt like the most obvious answer. He’d been there through the worst of Eddie’s post-PT work to make sure he ‘kept form’ on his exercises. They’d lounged in the sun all day, and it was the first time Eddie watched Steve relax since his final Upside-Down battle. 

Eddie feels his lip quiver, eyes burning, knowing they’d felt the same that day. Judging by Steve’s watery eyes, he guesses they feel the same now, too. 

“But love,” Steve whispers. He swallows as he takes a step closer, reaching out to grasp his hands. “Eddie Munson, I knew I was in love with you yesterday.”

His shoulders tighten as he recalls yesterday, surprised because they hadn’t seen each other at all, one of the rare days where their schedules didn’t line up. It was the first time in months they’d gone longer than thirty-six hours without seeing each other. Sure, they’d talked on the phone while Steve worked, but it’s not the same.

“I know,” Steve laughs, clocking Eddie’s confusion. “I thought about you all day. Couldn’t stop, no matter how hard I tried. Robin had to work with the customers because all I kept thinking about was tonight. If you’d get here before Robin, so we could sit out by the pool and smoke. Where we’d sit for the movie and if we’d get to share the popcorn bucket. If you’d pick a movie I hadn’t seen, so you’d lean in close and tell me a million random facts, even when you know I don’t really get it. But I just like when you’re close, next to me, and–” he hesitates– “I think that’s why you do it.”

Steve lifts their joined hands, wiping a tear from his eye using the back of Eddie’s knuckles. He returns the gesture, wiping what Eddie’s guessing is a mix of tears and snot off of his own face with Steve’s sleeve. 

“I think you lean in because you want to be close to me, too, and you don’t actually care about the movie either. Eddie, I think you ask for my help because you trust me in a way only Robin does. You give me cute nicknames like ‘sweetheart’ and ‘pretty boy’ because you’re teasing me, but I think it’s mostly because you really mean it.” Steve’s stepped closer now, and Eddie can feel the warmth of shared air between their gasping breaths. 

“I think you tease me and lean into me because you want my attention,” Steve whispers, brushing his nose alongside Eddie’s as their foreheads touch. “But Eddie, you’ve always had my attention.”

Eddie surges forward, capturing Steve’s tear-soaked lips between his own in what has to be the snotiest kiss either of them has ever had. But he doesn’t care. How could he? Eddie’s kissing the man he’s been in love with for almost eight months. 

Steve drops Eddie’s hands in favor of running one through his dark curls, while the other grips tightly at his waist. He can’t help but cup Steve’s cheeks, running a gentle thumb along his cheekbones. 

It’s soft and messy and everything he’s ever hoped for, because Steve Harrington is his everything, and he’ll do anything to keep him. Right now, he doesn’t have to worry about what they’ll tell their friends, or how they’ll explain this to Nancy, or even if Robin’s listening behind the door– he’s sure she is. No, right now, he lets himself bask in the glow of Steve’s love and soak in the comfort that Steve feels loved in return.

[mecachrome]

I think we're all nervously excited to see what this car is going to be like... and what everyone else's car is going to be like!

[murdrdocs]

like the secret fucking bc "our parents will hear us"

bro please 🛐

(context: talking abt stepbro! ethan) there's something abt it like ,,, i can't explain it stepsibling fucking so 17+

this is so ethan. but you're telling him that. you're riding him, your hands on his chest, nails scraping the skin, and he's holding your hips for dear life. he's completely fucked out, eyes closed, sweat on his forehead, cheeks tinted red, curly hair a mess. and his pretty pink lips are parted to let out those little sounds. you were home alone at first, both of you taking the sunday grocery run that your parents went on as an opportunity to finally get to feel each other again, but just two minutes ago the sound of the garage door opening was background to the sloppy sucking noises of your pussy engulfing ethan's dick, plus the enthusiastic moans coming from your stepbrother.

you roll your hips, casting a look over your shoulder to the half-closed door, not necessarily thinking about what such an action would do to ethan. his moan is loud, and broken. but the sound of your mother putting down groceries is even louder.

"shh, ethan," you turn around to face him again, a chuckle in your words and a teasing smile on your lips. "gotta keep it down, baby." one of your hands lift to cup ethans cheek and he leans into your touch, his eyes fluttering open to look at you.

"s...sorry," his stutter is adorably cute and you coo.

"'s okay. just need you to cum quick for me so they don't suspect anything, kay?"

and ethan's always been good at listening to instructions.

[danothan]

thoughts on coldflash?? just curious

don’t have fully fledged thoughts on them yet, but smth is going for sure.

for silly purposes alone, i like them a lot ^__^

[sonic-adventure-3]

bwaaah. knuckles. it’s so sad how he feels his isolation and hypervigilance are necessary to keep true to his duty as the guardian of the master emerald, and despite that he really does yearn for freedom….

[coquelicoq]

Il y a les nuits où il se réveille d'un cauchemar, le regard frénétique, les poings serrant les draps, soufflant à perdre haleine. Ces nuits-là elle l'étreint ; elle fait de petites bises sur son crâne ; avec son pouce elle caresse sa nuque couverte de sueur, tendue et tremblante. Quand il revient à lui-même, elle le chevauche, appuyant fort sur son corps avec tout son poids ; elle prend son visage entre ses deux mains ; elle pousse son front contre le sien, en répétant : "T'es à moi, à moi, à moi, à moi," jusqu'à ce qu'elle voie la chaleur dans son regard, jusqu'à ce qu'elle sente la réponse de son corps sous elle.

Elle le nique vigoureusement, ces nuits-là. Elle mord son épaule sans qu'il doive lui en demander. Elle le fait crier son nom à elle, pour l'empêcher de crier ceux de ses proches perdus. En lui coupant le souffler par amour, elle écrase le souvenir de ce qui l’a fait par terreur. Leur sueur s'entremêle, le stabilisant, le liant au présent, à ce lieu, à elle. Quand il se rendort, épuisé, des fourmis dans les membres, son cœur bat fort à cause de leur amour, leur amour et rien d'autre.

Dans la paix qui suit, elle passe les doigts le long des balafres sur le dos de son bien-aimé, écoute son haleine qui s'équilibre, se concentre sur sa propre sueur pendant qu'elle s'évapore dans l'air frais de la nuit.

[plutolovesyou]

this is what asking for requests and hoping for inspo to strike feels like

[fiddles-ifs]

Hell yeah, transgender time

But just to clarify ,and sorry if it's a stupid question, but can we be agender/non-binary?

Yes!

[tabooiart]

death is temporary. i'll love you forever

[velarisdusk]

Velvet whispers midnight truths was so freakin awesome!!! I love love loved it. Eris, Az 🫠🫠🫠🫠🥵🥵🥵 Im just gonna throw it out there and hope it sticks but maybe a part 2 where azriel confronts nesta and asks her wtf!! For telling reader to go fuck other people. Aaaand reader goes to Eris to "break things off" but they have one last steamy session before shes in Az arms again officially. 🤞🤞🤞🤞

ok wait bc i love this omg i can see that az/nesta fight getting very heated very fast bc literally WHAT was she thinking, the sleeping around didnt work for her so like....????? what gives

now. this is not me saying im not gonna write it, because i WANT TO, but i was def planning on it just being a one shot so i'll have to gather the mental energy to do it lol BUT a lot of people have been asking for a full eris scene (i see you, i hear you, i stand with you; live laugh love eris vanserra) so i'll deliver eventually. this is being added onto my list of things to write when i get sick of kinktober writing

[gloopdimension]

Dedusmuln loves their fuckoff huge husband

[chasingfictions]

tillow, spuffy & from beneath you it devours

im rewatching tillow scenes for emotional healing lmao and this bit in "goodbye iowa" is SO!!

it's the "you and me? this is beneath us." but it literally IS beneath them!!! it's "from beneath you it devours", the subconscious subterranean world rising up to eat you whole. it's buffy's "you're beneath me" to spike -- spike the demon, spike the shadow, spike the queer camp carnal figure. it's the goddess thespia being both linked to willow and tara's queer-sex-coded witchcraft -- like, this whole conversation as a barely cloaked metaphor. tara says "i've been thinking about that last spell we did all day", what she means is, "i've been thinking about you fucking me all day". but also the goddess thespia being explicitly linked to demons here. to Finding demons. it's this season closing out on, in restless, "we're not demons" "is that a fact?". and it's not a fact, is the thing. "get it done" shows that three seasons later. it's that slayers are demons, it's that demons are always lurking inside of us.

it's that willow and tara are going looking for demons, for the thing beneath them. by having queer sex, they're actively searching for it. plumbing the depths. it's tara sabatoging the spell because of her familial trauma -- she is in the depths with willow, she is swimming around, she is walking around in a dykey sex haze all day because she's so enamored. enamored of willow's magic too. but that same magic in herself is still an object of fear and shame and terror. it has to be literally hidden under the bed. it's the bed as a site of dreams, of the subconcious having its place. it's the bedroom as the self, the haven. it's how much of willow and tara's relationship is scenes bookended by tara letting willow into her room. her selfhood. it's that tara revels in her queerness and desires it in others but fears it in herself.

it's in this same episode of early tillow courtship, where tara (before willow rejects her offer to have a date that night, in what will later result in willow turning up at tara's door, allowing for that aformentioned classic tillow threshold moment), offering willow a doll's eye crystal. that belonged to her maternal grandmother. that she found in her attic. not the thing beneath her, ready to devour, with all tara's terror, but the place above her, the place she is consciously choosing. above as the mind, as the spirit, in contrast to the subconscious. she offers it to willow, a sign that she is mentally there. she wants to want to be able to give herself fully to this queer love. but willow rejects the crystal in this moment, signalling that they both need to deal with what is lurking beneath before they can engage with what lies above.

it's the series starting out for that matter from the bed as the place of the subconcious. we meet buffy in "welcome to the hellmouth" as her dreaming self. in her bed. dreaming of the legions of the undead rising up, of the master under the ground, of the subterranean things lurking. of her subconscious. of the thing beneath her that will literally devour her -- the master trapped under the ground, who will drink her blood in the close of the season.

to bring it back to the queer and queercoded relationships in the back half of the show, then, for that matter it's also the spuffy "we missed the bed again" of it all. it's buffy's first time with angel being in a bed, the morning-after trauma, the one night stand with parker, the relationship with riley - two of which give buffy trauma around her sexuality and desires, and one of which is distinctively shown -- her climbing out of bed in 5x01 unsatisfied to go masturbate hunt demons as an apt example -- to still leave her feeling sexually unfulfilled. to go down to the ground level, to the cemetery, to the demons. to find the thing beneath her so it can devour her. it's spike and buffy distinctly not fucking in beds for the most part -- fucking through the floor or on the floor, on two notable instances. it's that when they are fucking in a bed, buffy is invisible, so she's not fully present in that land of her subconscious and her desire. she's enacting what tara is. engaging in the sexual act (the demon-finding spell / the demon-fucking affair), but not allowing her to bring her whole self into it (hiding the demon-finding powder under the bed / only fucking the demon in the bed because, to quote spike "the only reason you're here is that you're not here). for that matter, by fucking spike on the floor, or under it, under the places where a bed would be, she's engaging very literally with tara shoving the demon-finding powder under her own bed. buffy can seek out her demon, can desire the demon, can't stop doing it, but also can't stop accruing shame from it, and hiding that shame under the bed in her consciousness, to pile up like so much unswept dust.

it's that the only visual scene we get of spike and buffy in a bed together in season 6 is within a dream. buffy dreams in dead things of being with spike in her bed. within a dream, she is able to access that she wants this place of dreams and peace and selfhood to include him. but she can't, because of the guilt. it's tara's patriarchal shame trauma and buffy's patriarchal shame trauma (her father telling her there is a demon in you, and that's why you want these things, that's why you can do these things / it's buffy's first, much-older boyfriend giving her the messages as a teenager there is something wrong with you, that's why everything you want is going all wrong. both as soulless angel -- "like i wanted to stick around after that?" and souled angel -- "this freakshow.")

to bring it back to willow and tara, it's willow's moment of queer self acceptance and tara's moment of queer self acceptance returning to these same themes: the bedroom, the beneath. it's willow affirming her desire for tara -- that has been an underbelly all season, both to the characters and the viewers. if you are keyed into queerness in media, it's obvious that magic is functioning a metaphor for gay sex. but, if you're not, it would be possible (difficult, but i've seen it done) to watch the season oblivious to or at least underplaying the explicit romance between willow and tara. until new moon rising, when the desire is put into words, when we are back at tara's bedroom, willow at the threshold, tara letting her in. willow blowing out the candle as if to say, i am here in your selfhood with you, and i am ready to enter the dark. i am actively choosing this, the place beneath, the subconscious and the subterranean. i am naming it out loud, to myself and you and others, that this is what i want, and i am thus merging the subconscious and the conscious. i am embracing the thing beneath me, i am smiling as it devours me.

to tara's moment of queer self-acceptance. where her issue was never saying her queerness out loud, but rather that she knows her queerness, but it's a source of shame and fear for her. because of the ancestral trauma, because of the patriarchal wound that has not yet been given occasion to close. she is all-too-aware of the thing beneath her, and she is piling it up. shoving the demon-finding, subconscious-finding powder under the bed, because she can't not engage with it, she can't resist the urge to be who she is and want who she wants. but she also can't avoid the piling-on of psychic baggage that embodying herself accrues. until she can. until her familial shame rolls into town, and she is given the chance to unlearn that shame, to feel true and final acceptance. tara who ran away from home to be her full, queer, magical self, but only was able to run away in body, not in mind. now set free from the powder accumulated under her bed, and the equal-opposite force is so resounding that she starts floating. the thing beneath her not weighing her down, but giving her license to rise up in comfort, and to inevitably come back to earth, still in the arms of her lover.

this all comes together rather beautifully for tillow in "once more, with feeling" -- tara and willow finally getting to have sex in a bed. sex and magic united explicitly in the narrative, and united blissfully for tara -- there is no shame here, no hiding. just letting herself fully enjoy this moment. no tension between above or beneath. rather, tara is able to float, again, as she is devoured by willow, beneath her.

it's spuffy, too, finally ending up above, together, in a bed, desires stated explicitly.it's the wholeness of "i've seen the best of the worst of you. and i understand with perfect clarity exactly what you are. you're a hell of a woman. you're the one, buffy." it's the subconscious, what has been coded as the worst, no longer being a place of shame, but being instead a source of love -- just one component of what makes her a hell of a woman. even hell in this sentence -- hell as the infernal, as the literal place beneath. it's the hellmouth, it's welcome to the hellmouth in buffy's bed full of unspoken dreams, it's vampires as demonic and hellish, it's all of this love coming pouring of a vampire's mouth, from hell's mouth. it's this being met, on buffy's end, with, "can you just hold me." she is letting spike, the thing beneath her, who kneels to make this speech, devour her. because she, the thing above him, has devoured him right back.it's "crush"'s "destroying everything that was me, until all that's left is you, in a dead shell." it's 'we're not demons?" "is that a fact?" all over again. the master devours buffy in our first year on the hellmouth. in our last year, buffy devours spike. vampiric of her. and spike devours the hellmouth. with his soul. his soul got to be more like buffy, he gets the spark and all it does "is burn." is devour. is devour him into the person who can hold space for buffy's wholeness. the spuffy ouroboros.

[crvwly]

oh it is WIP WEDNESDAY MY DUDES send me a 👻 to make me add 5 sentences to bwctf and i'll share a snippet from ch6 !

[hatake]

.