#but instead of pulling his chariot

[r26yz]

Freya's cat

[honest-moth-of-silver-grove]

Hc for Halsin, Astarion, Will, Gortash, (& maybe Damon and Raphael) caring for a loved one with chronic illness or like an illness that keeps them bedbound for an extended time

A/N: Oh Nonnie, do I feel this ask lol. Chronic fatigue sucks, mainly because so few people don’t understand it goes beyond being just ‘tired’. There’s brain fog, stomach issues, and body pains– so I tried to touch on each of these symptom types for each character response. However you’re doing, whether you’re in a flare or not, I want you to know your illness is not your fault. You didn't ask for this. Don’t feel guilty for having to take care of yourself. You’re worth it. I promise. 

Also, this is unrelated but it’s lowkey funny that the week after I got diagnosed with a weird anemia, I write an answer for an ask about chronic fatigue. lol

TW: Mention of Chronic Fatigue/Pain, Brief Mentions of Sex 

🤕 BG3 Men Caring for a Gender Neutral! Loved One With Chronic Illness 🤕

Astarion: 

Worries. Like A LOT.

Tells you not to be so dramatic about it but will literally sprint towards you if he even hears you sigh.

He asks Karlach to carry you. 

Steals somebody’s cart/chariot if she refuses and instead makes her and Shadowheart take turns pulling that. (Jokes on him, they do it because they’re your friend, not his lol.) 

Has you come on missions because he feels more secure knowing you’re right behind him, and he can keep looking after you. Astarion makes sure to always sneak ahead so you never walk unknowingly into any danger 

Will give you massages if you’re in pain frequently, especially shoulder rubs, as he loves the view it gives him of your pretty neck. 

Speaking of necks, feeding is a huge no-no. At least, until you start feeling a bit better. And then he’ll only allow himself a taste. Gods knows you need all your strength, and he would feel terribly guilty to take what little you have from you. 

Lowkey appreciates the bags under your eyes and the way you can look like death incarnate, because well, then he doesn’t stand out as much. He also finds it strangely alluring, how you can look so fragile yet be so strong. It inspires him to find that balance within himself if he’s being honest. 

If you have trouble ‘performing’ due to your illness, he’s not upset at all! (He’s actually quite relieved.) 

Loves finding other ways you can be intimate together, like going to a spa and sharing a bath. Or finding a highly-rated inn and cuddling under some luxurious silk sheets. 

Turns out that after a lifetime of being forced to do things, Astarions is more than happy to spend his time doing nothing with you. 

Wyll: 

Is so sweet and tender when he speaks to you.

He’s literally Prince Charming, which makes you his Sleeping Beauty. 

On your good days, he’ll have you stand on his feet as he twirls you around, finding this the best way to ‘dance’ with you, given your current stamina. 

Requests for you to stay back at camp and rest while he and a few of the others handle the more taxing and dangerous missions. Gifts you some books and journals of his to keep you occupied in the meantime.

When he comes back to camp, the first thing he does is check on you. If you’re awake, he’ll make sure your needs are met before tending to his own. Doesn’t matter if Wyll’s starving and covered in guts, if you need a drink or an extra blanket, just say the word and he will fetch it immediately.  

Will recite poetry to you on the bad pain nights when you cannot sleep because everything aches too much. He knows his voice won’t stop the pain, but he hopes it provides a soothing atmosphere to just rest in, even if sleep cannot find you.

Is always so tender and gentle in his lovemaking, that it’s rarely an issue for you. However, on the nights that it is, don’t feel bad at all. Wyll adores you for much more than your body. He loves your mind, your heart, and your soul. Just being near you, knowing you love him back is more than enough. 

Halsin: 

Is always prepared with some medicinal herbs or a healing spell. 

He’s a natural caretaker, and you are no exception. However, when it comes to you, Halsin does approach the act a little bit differently. 

It’s much more personal when he makes you health potions or casts spells to heal you, you can see it in his eyes. In a way, it’s as if your pain has become his pain, and he needs the relief just as much as you. 

As long as you give your consent, Halsin prefers to have you touching him. Be it laying on top of his chest, or seated on his lap, he always wants his skin against yours, as if his touch alone could shield you from your illness. You find it rather sweet of him.

He pleads for you to stay behind in camp, or the grove- somewhere that is not the center of the action. He wishes for you to remain out of the fray, fearful that in your condition, fighters with less honor than he would take advantage of your vulnerability. 

If you need to be in a house with a room, and not camped out in the woods, he understands, although it may frustrate him a bit. He believes nature is the perfect healing environment, but he also trusts that you know your illness better than anyone. After all, you’ve managed it all these years. So instead, he simply brings nature to you. 

Haslin decorates your bedroom with plants, trees, and succulents. If you’re allergic, he enchants them to reduce their pollen production. 

Halsin understands he is rather large in the ‘down there’ department. If you cannot have traditional sex with him, it’s not a surprise to him. He knows more than one way to please his partner. He’s very giving and seems to get off on your pleasure more than his own at times. 

Halsin thinks you are one of the most beautiful gifts of nature. Your illness is just another part of you, and because it’s a part of you, he thinks it’s beautiful as well. You may resent it, but Halsin could never separate that part from you and hate it. He simply loves the whole of you too much to do that. 

Dammon:

Oh my god, he’s such a sweetheart.

But also a low-key tease. 

He has no issues getting or reaching things for you, but he does have a mischievous side, so be prepared for him to hold your things hostage, in exchange for a kiss or two. 

Has a habit of finding you curled up in bed on your worst pain/fatigue days and peppering you with kisses, and won’t stop until you laugh. 

Forges special mobility aids! Do you need help walking? Pfft. Not a problem. Dammon’s an incredible blacksmith, and he can make you armor that helps stabilize you. You know those really cool joint support braces you can get on Etsy and stuff? Yeah, he makes you DOZENS of them, all in different metals and designs, to match your mood/outfit for the day. 

While on the road, or in the grove, he always ensures you’re armed with some sort of easily gripped knife or sword, just in case anyone attacks. He does his best to keep you close, never walking too far ahead or behind, but you having that extra layer of protection makes him feel all the more reassured. 

He's not a fighter, but years of working in the forge have made his arms and back strong. He swears he will do everything he can to protect you, that no harm will come to you so long as you stay close. 

Is so relieved when you make it to the city at last. He’s so grateful that he can finally provide a real room and bed for you. He feels as if the entire journey has been worth it now that you’ll be able to rest and heal as you need, in the kind of safe and stable conditions you deserve.  

Comes in from a long, sweaty day of working in the forge, but immediately sets his sights on taking care of you. Draws a bath but insists you bathe first, as the water won’t be full of grime and ash after he bathes. 

Is always surprised and very flattered when you tug him in with you, still touched by your affection for him, as if you’ve just met for the first time. Dammon’s still a little shocked that out of everyone, you chose him. (Ironically, you feel the same. You’re a perfect match!) 

Insists on taking the lead during more intimate moments, and to make sure you just lay back and let him do all the work, introduces soft silk ties for your hands and ankles for whenever you feel like indulging in that kink with him. 

Gortash: 

Spoils you rotten. 

No, really.

Part of the highlight of being a Lord, soon-to-be Duke, is that he has the power to make all the other people do things for him. And no task is too costly or requires too much manpower so long as it means you’re taken care of. 

Buys the most lavish sheets and sleep sets for you. He wants you to be comfortable, the both of you deserve nothing but the best, after all. 

Assigns around-the-clock healers to you 24/7. They are always in your home, on-call, awaiting your request for relief. He wants every measure of treatment and remedy explored. If there’s a spell or herb that can reduce your pain, then you shall have it. 

Enjoys any downtime he has with you. Has his staff put a special chaise lounge in his office so you can visit him when he’s working. 

Gortash is so used to putting up fronts for everyone else, that it’s nice to let his guard down around you. You don’t judge him, or think less of him for his ambitions. Other people would run if they learned the truth, but not you. No, you’re so much more special than that. 

Of course, whenever you go out, you have your own guards and steel watch keeping you safe from anyone who’d wish to harm either you or him. All the other Lords and Ladies of Baldur’s Gate don’t dare say a mean word about you or your abilities, lest they wish to face the wrath of a peeved Gortash. 

As an inventor, Gortash invents the very first automatic, steampunk-esque wheelchair for you. It’s powered in the same way his Steel Watch is, and it is uniquely one-of-a-kind, tailor-made just for you. 

You know how in the game it’s hinted that Gortash basically stole and fucked his way into the high society of Baldur’s Gate? That many of the widowed Ladies gifted him lavish presents (like the deeds to their house?!) in response to whatever ‘relationship’ he had with them? Yeah. The man knows what he’s doing. And he does it well.

Your fitness level is no concern to him. The both of you will enjoy yourselves. He learns how to play the erogenous zones of your body perfectly, and in the event you’re too exhausted to play his, he has some, shall we say, special toys, he’s created just for himself. Course, should you ever ask, he’s more than willing to share them with you. ;)

Raphael: 

Switches between pampering you to badgering you about it.

When he’s feeling particularly generous, he makes a point to overindulge you, making sure you’re aware of how unselfish he’s being at the time. 

He’ll make sure you have not only whatever you need, but also, anything you should want. As a devil, he does have some magic up his sleeve, ready to take care of various aches and pains that you feel. 

Ensures no other beings in the House of Hope lay a finger on you. No, that’s a privilege for him and him alone. 

Of course, such benevolence from him comes at a price, so don’t expect the luxury to come freely, without strings attached. 

After he feels you’ve rested enough, he switches from being overly doting to being more curt, and even a bit cruel. 

You honestly don’t expect him to let you lounge all day, do you? Surely there’s a way you could make yourself useful to him. Your attention, your company, your body… there must be something of interest to him at the moment. Of course, Raphael won’t tell you outright what he wants, you have to figure it out for yourself each and every time. 

More than anything Raphael loves your adoration, your attention. Just sit with him in his office as he reads over the various contracts he has binding any number of sorry souls. Ask him questions, praise him. Tell him you think he’s brilliant… Darling just worship him. 

And after his ego’s been satisfied, he’ll go back to worshiping you. Relationships are all give and take after all. 

(And don’t worry if you’re too tired or in too much pain to perform well in bed. He’s certainly no good at it either lol.)

[tartarusknight]

Eddie Joins the Family

Eddie didn’t think that he would get a big family when he pulled Dustin, Mike, and Lucas into Hellfire. He didn’t think it would happen but it did. One day, after school he’s stopped short at the sound of his name. He stopped and glanced back to see a redheaded girl. She looked familiar but he couldn’t place her. She had a skateboard under her arm and a determined look on her face. “You’re Eddie Munson right?”

Eddie frowned, “I don’t sell to kids.”

Her nose wrinkled, “ew. I’m Max, Lucas’s girl- we’re friends.” She stumbles a little and his eyebrow raised. 

She rolled her shoulders back, “can you give me a ride home? I missed the bus and we’re neighbors. I can give you embarrassing stories of any of the boys,” she waves her hand but he can see her nerves. 

“Sure,” he shrugged and she brightened. However, she was definitely trying to hide her emotions. “Our chariot awaits, milady.” He opened the door for her a swept his hand towards his shitty van. However, it didn’t stop there. Suddenly he was driving her more and more. Even though she didn’t even join his club! Okay, but she was quickly becoming one of his favorite freshman anyways. 

But Max wasn’t the only one. One day he ran into Nancy Wheeler and she actually stopped him. “Eddie, right?” Her eyes were hard and he shifted nervously. He gave her a small nod and she cleared her throat. “Mike’s really looking up to you lately.”

Eddie grimaced, “he could’ve picked someone better.”

She nods in agreement which stings only a little. He knew it was true. “You’re going to meet me twice a week. Give me your schedule.” She ordered and he stood there dumbfounded. “It wasn’t an option, come on.” She waved her hand. 

So he took a moment and wrote it all down before handing it over. She frowned, maybe at his shitty hand writing or the way it was kind of jumbled. “We have study hall the same hour. I’ll get a pass and I’ll meet you.”

“Uh, why?”

Her glare was terrifying, “because if he’s going to look up to you than you can give him a good example. I’m not going to let you keep failing all your classes and show him what it’s okay.” She snapped and Eddie wasn’t sure if he’s ever been this shocked before. “Understand?”

“Aye, aye, captain.” He gave her a weak salute before she turned and walked off. 

Then suddenly he and Nancy were working together often and in the few classes they shared she offered to be paired with him. It was freaky and his friends were just as weirded out as he was. But he had to admit that as they met after school a few times, that maybe, just maybe they were becoming friends. It wasn’t confirmed until one day she was painting his nails as he rambled about an idea he had for a campaign. Except she wasn’t just listening, she was giving him tips and helping him develop it even better. 

And with Nancy came Karen Wheeler. The woman would give him baked goods and thank him for all he was doing with Mike. It was weird but she made amazing cookies so he dealt with it and fucking Ted who didn’t deserve Karen. However, it got even worse when he made a comment that he mostly cooked for himself and his uncle since Wayne worked the worst hours. That had him in the kitchen with Sue Sinclair, Claudia Henderson, and you guessed it, Karen Wheeler. 

The three moms taught him all their tips and tricks, telling him he could impress any girl with his new skills. He didn’t say he wasn’t interested in any girls. Instead, he grinned and took all the information he could. It became a weekly thing and he got all the good gossip that wasn’t high school bullshit. And he gave them all the high school bullshit they wanted. 

And suddenly he became a babysitter for his younger friends. The freshman were annoyed at the development and Eddie got paid to hang out with them so he was fine with it. It didn’t happen often, since apparently Eddie was the back up babysitter. He didn’t care... that much, he was just curious. But being the back up babysitter gave him Erica Sinclair who quickly became his arch enemy and favorite. They didn’t do much but when he was in charge of her they would argue back and forth before retiring to painting mini figures with music playing in the background. 

However, that wasn’t even the end of it. Because suddenly Dustin was introducing him to Robin Buckley. Apparently Dustin had been trying to get her and their friend together but since they didn’t seem to get their act together, Dustin believed him and Robin would work together. Eddie and Robin took one look at each other and saw the fruitiness of the other. Which gave him a friend to talk about all the shit he dealt with that no one else did. No one else but Robin. 

Robin was a beauty and became one of his closest friends. They often spent time at his trailer and she started eating lunch with him and Hellfire. Of course Dustin was being a little bitch about it but Eddie and Robin claimed their were completely platonic. Which had the young members echoing, “with a capital P.” 

That one comment brought in the last of the party that remained in Hawkins, Steve Harrington. Steve was someone he knew from school but this Steve wasn’t what he expected. The first interaction after all the bragging the rest of the party did for him didn’t match up with his old vision. Eddie was leaving Hellfire and noticed Robin standing next to the man, waiting for the kids. “Eddie!” Robin waved like he wasn’t walking towards her already. 

He grinned, “hey Buckley, fancy meeting you here.” Then he glanced over at Steve and god dammit, he was still as pretty as he had been back in high school. 

“Harrington,” he drawled and watched Steve’s face grow pink. Which was curious...

Steve smiled and it wasn’t a smile Eddie had seen on him before, not really. This looked completely real and a little dopey. “Hey, Munson, I heard I’m missing out on the Munson friendship train.” He tilted his head a little and his hair flopped. The kids were already getting into Steve’s car but neither Steve nor Robin looked to be in a rush to leave. 

Eddie laughed a little awkwardly, “Yeah man. You don’t know what you’re missing.” He waved at himself and watched Steve’s eyes drop to follow his hands up and down his body. Which was... it was... Eddie didn’t really understand what he was feeling. 

He cleared his throat, “welp, enjoy driving these gremlins home.” He waved at the back seat. However, when he looked at Steve the dude look upset at the idea. Which was weird because he’s been told over and over how much Steve loved the kids. He waved and jogged off to avoid anymore of that. 

But that wasn’t the last he saw Steve. No, in fact, suddenly Steve always picked them up. Nancy no longer took time out of her schedule nor did any of the parents. And when Eddie went to his weekly dinner session with the moms they all laughed and said Steve was a good babysitter, always so caring about their time and kids. 

And well... Eddie didn’t hate it. Not one bit as Steve got there about 30 minutes early each time and watched the end of the session. Then he’d help Eddie clean up and they’d talk until they parted ways. Some times Robin was with him and most of those nights they’d meet him at the trailer after dropping the kids off with a movie for the three of them. Except soon, Steve would stop with or without Robin. 

Eddie loved and hated his time with Steve. Because the more time they saw each other, the more Eddie fell for the straight boy. He was done falling for straight boys so it pissed him off. But it didn’t stop him from putting his legs in Steve’s lap during a movie. Or letting Steve play with his hair. Or letting Steve kiss-

Okay the kissing was knew. And Eddie wasn’t sure of anything anymore. Not when during Grease Steve got up from the couch to sing and dance along. Eddie had laughed and when he was pulled to his feet, he stumbled into Steve’s chest. It was just the two of them but even if they had been in a crowded room, Eddie was sure the only thing he would’ve seen would’ve been Steve. 

Steve had cupped his face and smiled, “You’re the one that I want, o o oo honey. The one I need,” Steve had sung so soft and Eddie blinked at him, shocked. “Eddie,” Steve whispered as he leaned in closer. “Can I kiss you?” Eddie had made some noise that he’ll never claim and nodded frantically. Steve kissed like it was a sport that he never got less than gold in. Eddie pressed in and they moved in sync. 

And when they dropped next to each other in Eddie’s bed. Eddie didn’t think Steve might be as straight as he previously thought. “You know,” Steve started after they both regained their breath. “All I heard for weeks was Eddie this, Eddie that. Suddenly even the moms were in love with you. And it was so god damn annoying. Cause I knew they were all right. I remembered you from school, how free and open you were. When Dustin and the others mentioned you befriending them I knew they’d be okay. But I was jealous.”

Eddie looked over at him, “You were jealous? Of me?”

Steve snorted and Eddie didn’t think it was fair that even that was endearing. “Of you, of them. I don’t know... but I saw my shot and I took it.” He shrugged and Eddie raised an eyebrow. “Dude, you were like my gay awakening! I serious!” Steve had a big smile on his face and Eddie grinned back. 

“Really? Little ol’ Eddie Munson was King Steve’s awakening?”

Steve smacked him and rolled so he leaned over Eddie, “yeah. You were.”

They grinned at each other, “so you were checking me out when you first picked up the kids.”

“Hell yeah I was,” Steve winked and it was so dorky. He was flushed pink but still trying to stay confident. “To be honest, I lied when we started talking.” Eddie raised an eyebrow, insincerity rising up in him. But then Steve flushed more, “I didn’t want to join the Munson friendship train. I wanted to see what you’d be like as my boyfriend.” Steve wiggled his eyebrows and Eddie couldn’t stop the laugh.

“Yeah?” He flipped them so he was on top of Steve. Steve looked pleased as he did so. “Get ready, big boy. I’ll show you what you’re missing.” He promised and kissed him just because he could. 

Steve broke it though, “so, you, Eddie Munson agree to go on a date with me?”

Eddie rolled his eyes, “yes. I Eddie Munson, will date you, Steve Harrington. You can pick me up tomorrow at 7.”

And Eddie would swear that Steve’s eyes fucking twinkled. “It’s a date.”

So, yeah bringing Dustin, Lucas, and Mike into Hellfire was one of the best decisions he’s ever made. Maybe one day he’ll thank them for giving him the best year he’s ever had. 

[vibingpyro]

Heatwave Romance

Right now, in the corner of your mind, you can hear your parents nostalgic and irritable words of wisdom. 'dont take things for granted' or 'eat your vegetables' and all that nonsense. But, mostly the 'dont take things for granted' part is echoing in your skull as you lay strewn about on the couch of your apartment, absolutely miserable in the sweltering heat.

Of all the days, your air conditioning had went out during Camden's annual heatwave, just your luck right? What makes it better is that your apartment is under going some construction in the lower levels, so the water has been turned off for the rest of the evening, so, no cold shower for you either! How....wonderful.

You groan, debating on moving to get up to see if there's any cooler room to be in instead of laying about on the couch, sweat beading off your skin each time you move too much. You decide to stay there for a moment longer in some desperate hope it will just get colder rather than having to actually make the effort to get up and move. You don't even lift your head when your window leading to your fire escape opens with an small 'click!', already knowing it's your best friend, Hobie Brown.

"Whew, not any better here is it, luv?" Hobie's voice is heard, and you finally lift your head to glare at Hobie for his obvious answer. "No, it's not." You murmur, slightly annoyed that your misery has company but also a bit relieved that you have someone to complain about the heat to.

Hobie hums in acknowledgement, not bothered by the irritated response you gave him. He closes the window back down with an small shove of his hand before crossing the living room, tapping your legs in silent request to move, and you oblige lifting your legs up, although when he plops down beside you on the couch, you just place your feet right onto his lap and he rolls his eyes briefly but makes no effort to shove you off, opting to slide his mask off and shove it into his pocket.

"Why don't you jus take a cold shower?" He asks, looking at you with an glint of amusement in his eyes, and the glare you give him only makes him snicker, "They shut off the buildings water, they're doing repairs or something so I can't shower, even if I wanted to." You huff, Hobie nods, clicking his tongue. "That does indeed cause a problem.."

There's an pause after you grumble in agreement, Hobie has an slightly thoughtful expression on his face, before patting your legs and you lift them instinctively at his silent request, he stands and shrugs. "Why don't you jus' come to my place, n cool down a bit?" He offers, and you can't help but perk up at that, sitting up. "Seriously? That would be awesome." You smile, Hobie smiles back at you as he nods, "Yeah, course."

You're already on your feet to dress properly, and by properly something that isn't an pair of sleep shorts and a tank top. You rush into your bedroom, changing into something more suitable before walking out to see Hobie, knelt down and inspecting your broken conditioning with an focused glare. He looks at you and gestures to the air conditioning with an baffled look on his face. "What did you do to the poor thing?" He laughs in slight disbelief, standing up.

You shrug, "It just went out on me, what do you mean what did I do to it?" You scoff, eyebrows furrowing as you look at him in equal bafflement. Hobie gives you an even further confused look but shakes his head with an smile, "Just forget I said anythin', you ready to go?" He asks, already walking over towards the window he had entered through, opening it, then pulling his mask from his pocket and over his face.

You nod, following him through the window and stand on the fire escape, wiping your forehead as the heat blasts you further with being outside. Hobie then kneels down, facing away from you. "Your chariot, m'lady." He teases, and you roll your eyes playfully. "You have too many miles on you to be considered a chariot, Hobie." You laugh at your own joke and Hobie scoffs playfully back as you settle yourself on his back piggy back style, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

"How dare you say something so accurate.." he laughs, one of his hands coming to grip onto your calf as you tighten your grip around his shoulders in preparation for what comes next, as well as fighting off the small flare of butterflies you feel in the pit of your stomach. "Hold tight!" Hobie shouts before jumping off of the fire escape, slinging out his webs to begin the short trek to his place on the other side of town.

It's hard to stifle the squeal that comes from your throat as you feel the wind rush past your hair and battering slightly against your face. Hobie chuckles, squeezing your calf in reassurance although there's a hint of genuine concern in the action. "Doin' alright back there, luv?" He calls out loudly to be heard over the rushing wind, you manage to wheeze out an quick, "Never better!" Moving your head to burrow slightly into the back of his neck, hoping to god he doesn't feel the heat of your blush on your cheeks. Hobie snorts at your reply, "We'll be there before you know it, promise." His slightly teasing tone turns to one of tender promise, and your cheeks practically grow hotter from his words, nodding and focusing on trying to get the blush under wraps.

It doesn't take long to get to Hobies place across town, it's a simple house boat but Hobie says any other place would just be wrong to live in as he's been there so long. Hobie swings one final web out, landing right before the door of the house boat. Hobie kneels down and releases his light grip on your leg and you carefully hop down. Hobie stands, brushing himself off before pushing the door open.

"You really should start locking your door." You huff as you walk in behind him, already feeling the cool air and atmosphere of the houseboat refreshing your attitude and body. Hobie merely shrugs, "Yeah, probably." He murmurs in nonchalance at your advice, walking further inside the houseboat and right up to his hammock bed that he swears is the most comfortable for his back, before practically falling down onto it, stretching like a cat that just woke up from an really good nap. You walk over to the couch you always sit at when you come to his house, peeling at the clearly overloved fabric of the couch out of habit. You sigh, leaning your head back as you relax, just basking in the feeling of being cold after so many hours of being stuck hot and miserable in your apartment, closing your eyes in contentment.

"You look quite cozy over there." Hobie is heard saying from his hammock bed across the room and you nod, shuffling to allow your hands behind your head. "Yeah, I am-" you stop speaking as you hear the sounds of floorboards creaking, barely having time to look to see where Hobie could possibly be going before an weight is placed on your lap, and when you look down, you're met with the sight of Hobie smiling up at you, quite smugly.

"What are you doing?" You ask, just staring at him. Hobie shrugs, even nuzzling a bit further into your lap. "You looked rather comfortable, thought I'd join is all." He hums, closing his eyes. The position doesn't...look comfortable, for Hobie at least. His head is placed in your lap, his hands clasped together loosely over his abdomen while...his legs are sticking out over the armrest of the couch, being so tall and lanky he isn't as 'compact' as he calls you and other people shorter than him.

"You don't look comfortable." You state bluntly, Hobie peeks an eye open at you, "Do you want me to move?" He asks, you furrow your eyebrows at the question, shaking your head beginning to speak again. "But-" "Then, yes, I'm comfortable." Is all he says before closing his opened eye, looking incredibly peaceful despite the uncomfortable looking position he's in.

You shrug, deciding not to push. Knowing Hobie can be most comfortable in the most weirdest of positions. You can't help but yawn slightly seeing Hobie so relaxed. "We should nap." You suggest, already closing your eyes tiredly. Hobie murmurs an slight incoherent reply, "Way a head of you luv.." before turning his body to the side, one hand laying lazily against the couch while the other makes itself comfortable underneath the crook of one of your knees, already snoring.

You instantly feel all sleepiness drain from your body at the soft touch, opening your eyes to peer down at Hobie sleeping so soundly. You smile slightly, adjusting your position slightly to allow Hobie a bit more room on the couch.

'I am so in love with you...I'm screwed .' you think as he twitches slightly in his sleep, murmuring something about having to fix your air conditioning...then to leaving the toaster running at Pavitr's?

[upsidedownwithsteve]

PART OF THE ‘SEQUELS’ REQUESTS. READ LEMON OVER ICE HERE

Steve Harrington x fem!reader 18+

Steve was practically tugging you out of the door when six o’clock came, the store tidied and the lights off by five fifty nine, the lock clicking shut on the hour. You’d spent the last two hours avoiding his touch, both of you too pent up as you teased him, always an arms length away, making him trail the aisles after you, fingers trying to catch at the hem of your sundress. 

You’d shook your head, grinned all smug and told him to be patient. 

And then he was ripping off his vest and pulling his wallet and car keys from his tiny locker, grabbing your hand as he kept you pinned between him and the store front, hands fumbling as he locked up. 

“Yours or mine?” You managed to ask, all breathy and too high. Steve had his mouth on your neck, trailing up your throat and along your jaw, already sucking the bruises he’d wanted to put there all day. “Fuck, Steve.”

The boy laughed, a huff of hot air over your skin, nose trailing over the marks he’d made, nuzzling onto your neck. “S’real cute that you think I’m not gonna fuck you the minute we get into the car.”

It was embarrassing, the way his words made you whine, a needy sound leaving your lips and you were suddenly all too aware that you were outside and very much in public. There were still a few cars in the lot, a couple of soccer mom vans parked by the arcade, ready to haul their kids away when it closed in an hour, a few idling by the pizza place, waiting on their orders. 

But still, you clung to him, fingertips dipping under his shirt, only to hook into the waistband of his jeans, flirting with the band of his underwear.  You felt Steve’s cock kick up, fully hard now after hours of teasing, barely there touches and the promise of ‘soon.’

“Someone’s gonna see,” you managed to murmur, uncaring when Steve dipped his head to yours, nose nudging at your cheek so you’d tilt your face up for him. The kiss was hot, greedy and entirely too impatient. “Gonna get written up for public indecency. Hop’s gonna yell. Again.”

Steve was pretty sure Hopper could come screeching into the parking lot with the FBI on his tail, sirens wailing, and he wouldn’t notice. You were too pretty, still tucked up against him with one dress strap falling down a shoulder, your lips glossy and reddened from his kisses. 

He wanted to eat you alive. 

“Well, you better get your cute ass in the car then, huh?” Steve tapped at your hip, took your book from you and handed you the keys instead. He’d let you make the decision, even though he was hoping to make food on his promise. He was fucking aching for you. “Your chariot awaits, princess.”

You took the keys and squeaked when he tapped you again, hand curving round your ass as he nudged you towards the car. It was awful how his words and actions made a new heat bloom in your chest, warmer than the leftover sun, the summer that had baked outside all day. “Bossy,” you told him and Steve just grinned, too pleased. 

“Don’t act like you don’t like it.”

And, well. That was that. 

Steve’s heart skipped a beat when you walked to the maroon BMW, faltering only slightly before you made up your mind and opened the back door, sending him a look over your shoulder before you slipped in. Your yellow sundress skimmed almost too high on the backs of your thighs as you bent over and climbed inside and it made Steve bite down on the inside of his cheek to stifle the groan he almost let out. 

He followed, footsteps quick on the tarmac and he wanted to laugh at your frown when he climbed in the front, one hand on the steering wheel, the other reaching out to you. “Keys, baby.” 

You looked dejected and confused, handing him the bundle of silver anyway. You hooked your chin on the chair in front of you as he started the engine, your thighs still pressed together to try and dull the ache he’d caused. 

“Thought you couldn’t wait until we got home,” you reminded him quietly. “Going back on your word, Harrington?”

The car moved too quick as Steve accelerated through the parking lot, eyes a little wild as he took a sharp corner that led around the back of the buildings. It was quieter, shaded in navy light, away from prying eyes and unwanted audiences. Steve didn’t need to explain, he just killed the engine and slammed the door shut, wasting only seconds before he was in the back and on you. 

It was easy to scramble over him, a well practised move as you ducked your head against the low ceiling, bending pliant to kiss Steve with even more enthusiasm than before, your tongue meeting his as you both sighed at the contact. His hands were under your dress, squeezing at your waist, your hips, your ass, cursing into your open mouth when you rocked against him. 

It was awkward and your knee hit his chest as you bent and twisted your way out of your underwear, laughing against each other's mouths as Steve dragged the lace down your legs, fisting the material to feel the dampness there, moaning dirty when he let them fall to the floor. 

 “Don’t wanna wait,” you mumbled, eyes shuttering closed as you tilted your face to the car roof, letting Steve kiss and nip at your neck, your own hands pulling impatiently at his belt buckle. The leather snapped when you dragged it from the loops, denim rough against your bare cunt as you coaxed him to lift his hips and shuffle his jeans down. “Waited too long already, please.”

Steve made a filthy sound at that, your sweet, little ‘please’ making his cock twitch. You were already wrapping a hand around him, palm warm against him, fisting him slow. He was swearing, head thrown back against the seat, breath coming too fast. And then you were moving, knees pressed to the seat as you slid the head of his cock through your folds, getting him slick. 

“Baby, baby, baby,” Steve hissed at the feel of you, the tip of him slipping into you, making you whine at the stretch. “Fuck, babe, slow, slow, slow, don’t hurt yourself, shit.”

You were too busy clinging to him, hands grabbing at his shirt sleeves, clutching his shoulders. The car windows were already steaming up, moisture beading on the inside of the glass, sliding down it the same way a sheen of sweat clung to your skin. You cried out, heat blooming in your stomach, a hook there tightening as you took Steve inch by inch. 

“Jesus Christ, you’re something else,” the boy gasped out, grabbing at your thighs, tucking your dress up so he could watch you sink down on him, hips rolling. “So pretty, aren’t you? My pretty baby, god.”

A door somewhere close by slammed open, hitting the wall before it closed again, causing you both to pause. You stared down at your boyfriend, wide eyed and panting, whining helplessly when Steve’s cock kicked up inside of you, making you clench down. He grinned, too pleased that you were just turned on as him at the idea of getting caught. 

He sat comfortable in the back seat, hands on your hips, squeezing at the dough there as he let his head go lax, lips parted and eyes half lidded as he gazed up at you, throat bared all pretty. You watched him lick his lips, breath hitching when you rose up on your knees just a little, before sinking back down, feeling him deep enough to make you gasp. 

“There you go,” he coaxed softly, voice velvet. “Make a mess on me, baby, you can do it.”

So you did as you were told.

[apomaro-mellow]

Matchmaking Harringtons 3

Steve was having a great time with Eddie. It was mostly because he was just that amazing. He was funny, hot, cute, and totally into him. A winning combo in Steve's opinion. But it was all due in no small part to the fact that his parents were so supportive. Steve didn't talk about the girls he dated that much (because why would he?) but his folks seemed actively interested in his going with Eddie.

Maybe it was the whole 'serious relationship' thing they were trying to commit him to. Maybe they were overcompensating for not being around much and wanting to also prove they were okay with his preferences. Either way, they always wanted to know how things were going with Eddie.

They'd been going out for a couple of dates at this point and honestly each one was better than the last. They were all typically low-key, with moments that they were able to get alone for a bit of privacy.

"Let's just say the back of his van is very spacey", Steve said into the phone as he paced about his room.

"So...you're still a total slut then?", Robin said from the other end of the line.

"Guys can't be slutty. And it's not being a slut if it's with the same guy."

"So you've?"

Diane was in the middle of bringing up a basket of laundry when she heard her son's conversation in his room. She swore she'd never be the kind of mother that constantly eavesdropped but well, the door was open just a smidge...

"Not, not the full thing, all the way yet. I think he's nervous. Or he can tell I'm nervous? I don't know. I told him I'd never been with a guy before and I thought that might make him, you know, take initiative?"

"Or maybe he's taking things slow because he doesn't wanna scare you off?", Robin suggested.

"That...could be it. But that's kinda why I called. I thought he was moving kinda slow, but guess where he's taking me tomorrow?"

"Steve, is Munson taking you to a hotel?"

Steve rolled his eyes. "No. He's taking me to Le Petit Nuange. That French place a town over?"

Robin gasped. "Sacre bleu! Va-t-il faire une proposition?"

"Robs, please. My extent of French is 'filet mignon'."

"Do you think he's serious? Like trying to meet your parents serious?"

"I don't know? Maybe? It's just weird. Le Petit is just...so not Eddie."

Diane was inclined to agree. A fancy place like that seemed out of character for someone as boisterous and non-conforming as Eddie. He has once brought a bouquet of lilies, despite their dire meaning. 'Screw flower language, these are some damn fine flowers', he had said.

And even if he thought of taking Steve somewhere special, Enzo's was the nicest place in town. Where would he get the idea to go to the next town?

Jonas.

Diane had thought he was being suspicious when he hid Steve's shoes before a date and met Eddie outside to talk. Diane had thought he'd been giving the boy some kind of shovel talk. He must've been giving Eddie advice on where to take Steve instead.

And she could just imagine what he was trying to do - clean Eddie up. Well, if he wanted to go behind her back, then two could play at that game.

-------------------------

The doorbell rung and Steve answered it. Eddie was there, in a button up shirt with long sleeves that hide his tattoos. His hair was pulled back into a ponytail. And he had a bouquet of nice, traditional, red roses.

"They're beautiful", Steve beamed. He took a moment to put the roses in a vase, missing the thumbs up his dad gave Eddie. Diane however, did not miss it.

"Your chariot awaits", Eddie said, giving a sweeping bow and then locking his arm with Steve's. "Have a good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Harrington!", he called back.

As the van roared down the street, Diane enacted her own plan. She had her husband would also be having a date night.

At Le Petit Nuange, Eddie and Steve were being seated and Eddie had never felt more out of place. It was like everyone could tell he didn't belong here. But when he saw Steve smiling from across him, he knew there was no place he'd rather be.

"What made you want to bring me here?", Steve asked.

Jonas had practically cornered Eddie when he had come to pick up Steve, saying he just wanted to talk a little. Eddie was prepared for the whole 'I have a shotgun/shovel and I'm not afraid to use it.'

"Let's talk", he had opened with. "Steve and you have been having fun, right?"

"Uh, yes? I guess?", Eddie said, unsure now.

"Fun's all well and good Eddie. But now's the time to show Steve you're serious. And you are serious? Aren't you, son?"

"Y-yes. Yes, I am, serious like a heart attack."

"Then you've gotta take him some place special. A place like, uh, say Le Petit Nuange", Jonas rubbed at his chin.

Eddie's brows rose up under his fringe. "Le Petit Nuange? That place is-"

"Is upscale. Which is what Steve deserves, isn't it?"

Eddie swallowed. "Yeah, yeah it is."

He looked at Steve's hand, sitting on the table, just asking to be held. Steve deserved all this and more. And Eddie wanted to be the one to give it to him. It was why he took extra shifts and more of his side business to have the dough to take Steve here.

"I just looked up places in the yellow pages and thought you might like it."

"You know, my parents actually come here a lot", Steve pointed out.

"You don't say", Eddie tried to hide his expression by covering his face with the menu. When he got a look at the prices, it did a good job hiding the way his eyes bugged out. Looks like his purse strings would be a little tight after this. But he had prepared for that. Steve was worth it.

He was worth the stiff shirt, the swanky eatery, and even spending more time selling music that was beneath him to the general populace.

"So tell me more about this gig you've got coming up", Steve said.

Eddie's face broke out into a wild smile and he nearly slammed the menu down. "It's gonna be a ride, Stevie." He wasn't shouting, but his volume was a little louder than polite, and he felt eyes on him. He cleared his throat and quieted himself. "I mean I'm excited to rub elbows with other bands. The experience is sure to be enlightening."

Steve gave him an odd look. "Yeah, I hope my parents let me go. Indy isn't far, but I feel like they've been keeping a closer eye on me lately."

The thought of Steve being in a crowd while he played made Eddie wanted to jump for joy. He wanted to tell him come, even if his parents said no. Sneak out for the weekend, what could they do? He was a man now. But he couldn't do that. Not just because he was trying to clean up and having his new boyfriend at a metal venue might ruin that image. It was also because Steve's had nice parents.

There weren't many that could both accept and encourage their queer child.

"You know Steve, your parents-hcck!" Eddie choked on his words as he saw the Harringtons walk right in and get led to a table.

"What about my parents?", Steve asked.

"They're uh, they're um great!", Eddie squeaked, then cleared his throat to get it back to its normal register. "I mean they're great. I can tell they love you very much."

Steve smiled, none the wiser to his folks being seated not too far away. Eddie tried not to look at them, tried to ignore them. But this couldn't be a coincidence.

Jonas was looking around while trying not to look around. "When you said you wanted to go out tonight....I didn't think you meant this place."

"Why not?", Diane questioned. "We're regular patrons. And it's been a while since we went out." They'd been getting plenty of alone time what with Steve dating now, but they usually spent their evenings at home.

Jonas pulled out her chair for her and when he sat down, he used the menu to continue looking around. Diane watched him like a hawk.

Steve didn't know what was going on with Eddie. He looked nice dressed this way, sure. But it didn't feel like him. He felt...smaller somehow. Like he was trying to shrink himself down. Even as they talked, his smiles were restrained, he didn't move his hands as much, and even his voice seemed like it was being held back.

Steve watched as he cut his food, using minimal motions like he was working with glass.

"Eddie, are you okay?"

"Huh? Yeah, course, I'm fine. I uh, I just need to hit the can-uh use the facilities. Please excuse me."

Eddie got up in a haste. He thought he'd be ready for tonight. It was just playing pretend. Potentially for the rest of his life. Maybe having an audience of the parents was what was tripping him up. He got close to the bathroom when a hand tapped his shoulder. He turned to see none of than Mrs. Harrington.

"Don't worry, I know this wasn't your idea", she started right off. "My husband put it in your head. I'll admit, I like the idea of Steve being treated like a prince, but if you clean up too much he'll get confused."

"Right, yeah, gotta strike a balance. Mhm."

"Glad we could talk", she patted his arm. "Go get him, tiger."

Eddie returned to Steve and saw Diane come back to her table not long after. He could see them exchange words, although he couldn't hear what. Then Jonas got up from his seat. He gave Eddie a strange look while making his way to the bathroom. Eddie sighed and excused himself again.

"Now I don't know what my wife might've said to you, but you've got to stay on this path. I can see a real future with you and Steve if you do."

"A real future?"

"I could only give my son to someone who could take care of him. You understand what I mean, don't you?"

Eddie nodded. The kind of man who could take Steve to these places and not have his soul leave his body when he looked at the menu. When Eddie sat back down, he looked at Steve, sitting across from him. It was the kind of view he could get used to.

Somehow, the meddling didn't end there. The Harringtons took turns, getting up to meet with Eddie and each time he had to come up with an excuse.

"I'm gonna check their wine selection."

"I want to make sure the kitchen knows my allergies."

"I'm gonna see if the violinist takes requests."

Finally, Steve stood up with him and grabbed Eddie by the elbow. "Come with me."

Steve took him to the bathroom and locked the door behind them.

"Steve", Eddie gasped, scandalized when his neck started to get kissed.

"You've been antsy all night." Steve's hands went to his hips and began to untuck his shirt.

Instantly, Eddie felt like being released from shackles. Steve's hand roaming under his shirt left him so distracted, he almost didn't hear what he said next.

"Hm?"

"I said, do you wanna get out of here?"

"The bill-", Eddie was cut off when Steve reached behind him and took down his hair, running his fingers through it to free the tresses.

"A little dine and ditch never hurt anyone."

Eddie looked to the window in the bathroom. Just barely big enough to make a getaway. He was halfway out when they heard someone knocking on the door. Eddie was helping Steve out as the handle was shaking. Steve was giggling and it was like a sweet bell to his ears.

They were making their way around the back of the restaurant and towards the van as the manager finally came around with a key.

Diane and Jonas could make out the commotion going on near the bathroom and saw the empty table where two lovebirds should be.

"You knew I made Eddie take Steve here", Jonas confirmed.

"Yes."

"And every time you got up-"

"Was to speak with Eddie. And now they've-"

"-Snuck out the bathroom."

Together they sighed, remembering when they snuck out of stuffy formals to be alone together. And because they wondered if they were doing right by their son.

"We're going to have a long talk when we get home, huh?", Jonas asked his wife.

"Oh yeah."

"Any hope for me?"

"Ask me after dessert."

Part 5

Tag Team

@tartarusknight @swimmingbirdrunningrock @estrellami-1 @potato-of-the-lord @dragonmama76 @m-owo-n @sticknpokelightningbolt @somegirlsomewhere @tinyplanet95 @samsoble @runniem @hallucinatedjosten @nburkhardt @littlewildflowerkitten @noctxrn-e @subversivecynic @larawrmonster @suikatto @platinum-sunset @imacowboy3 @tiny-enthusiast @netflixisacopingstrategymom @honorarybrit81 @manda-panda-monium @krazyperson @ninjapirateunicorns

[palmtreesx3]

Watching your friend, Steve Harrington, go on Kamakazi Mission dates over and over again was getting kind of old. You're always there to listen, comfort and pick up the pieces but what if this time it's just too much? What if this time you've had enough and something that feels a little bit like jealousy rears its ugly head?

(3k) Warnings: 18+ Smut okay? Failed dating, angsty friendship, jealousy, unfaithful/cheating adjacent, physical altercation, female fingering, public hookup 

Just a wee one-shot after someone (🧱) had to come in my inbox and talk about being jealous and defensive about Stevie instead of the other way around.

—

Steve's an honest to god, good fucking guy, so it should be no surprise to you when you find out he gave Heather a ride home after her car broke down outside of Family Video. He doesn't even do it for the praise - not anymore at least - which makes it all the more infuriating. 

Watching her jump out of his car. You roll your eyes at how she maneuvers just the right way so that her hair literally bounces when she giggles. The way she has her arms crossed in front of her, hands clasped - innocent enough - but you clock how she bats her eyes a little more than necessary and how her arms dig into her sides, pressing her tits up just a little more out of her dress than before. 

It's enough to gag. 

He sees you staring, eyes locked on her all the way from his driveway. Gives you a wave from across the street and you wave back. Can you wave sarcastically? If it's possible, you just did it. Giving him a thumbs up, he narrows his eyes at you before turning to go inside his house. 

Later at the house party you find yourself at that night, you're 3 beers in when you stumble into the kitchen. She's there hanging all over him. Trying hard to get him to cash in on a thank you for that favor earlier. Steve's not leaning into her, but he's not pulling away either. He's holding back, but the look on his face is hopeful and the smile on his lips is actually goddamn genuine. 

You know he's been on endless dates lately, trying to find one girl that'll be enough, stick around for at least a few dates, be interested in more than just a fuck. He recounts every one of them for you and Robin in excruciating detail. And then lingers and festers in the details of how it went wrong for twice as long. Self deprecating commentary that is nowhere near the truth and you can't bear to hear one more time will bring up the rear. 

So Heather fawning all over him tonight because he carted her off in his chariot in her moment of need sounded just about right. As did the slug trail of his broken, bleeding, lovelorn heart that was bound to show up after she stopped calling, was always busy, or just flat out told him she was done with him. Whichever it was gonna be this time, you already saw the writing on the wall. 

You're quick to move to the counter, right next to where they stand, and slam down a shot glass, filling it to the brim with whatever amber liquid you reached for first. When Steve reaches out to make sure you're okay.. suggest you slow down even, he touches your hand to stop you and you're taken aback by the shudder that runs up your body at his touch. You look at him, and then over to her and all you snap out is some comment about how you're just pre-medicating. When this blows up in your face I want to be ready. You gesture between the pair. 

You're not sure why you're being so mean today. Sure you're sick of the same old song and dance with him, but today you're angry about it and that's…new. She doesn't even notice your little outburst, fingers aimlessly toying with the tufts of hair brushing his neck while she stares off into the distance of the party. Steve, however, notices and is left to wonder why you're being such a bitch about it tonight. Wonders if your problem was with him… or Heather. 

Another hour later you're leaning against the brick of the house out back, hot cigarette held between your fingers, smoke billowing in the air around you. The sickly sweet sounds of a giggle coming from between the hydrangeas caught your ear. A giggle straight from the mouth of that blonde haired bimbo you could pinpoint from a mile away. It sucker punched you in the gut knowing how this was going to all go, and the disgusting slurping sounds of her tongue down Steve Harrington's throat just a few feet away made your eyes roll. 

Here we go. 

Making sure you loudly push through the opening in the bushes, full with browning gloves of delicate petals, you scoff at the sight of the back of Heather's head, lips now tucked into the crook of his neck.

Jason's neck. 

Not Steve's. 

There's absolutely no reason for you to do what you do next. Not one that makes logical sense, really. Because you open your mouth and can not help but tell Heather where to stick it. You call her a few names, some of them not very pretty, before turning on your heel and swinging the sliding door open to go back inside. 

Your mild annoyance with Heather's antics is suddenly festering into a blind, boiling rage, which made the fact that she decided to follow you a really, really bad one. 

What is your problem? She asks me. 

And at first you don't know what it is. Sure she's acting like a sloppy girl throwing herself on Steve…or apparently anyone who might just fuck her even more stupid than she already is. But she's not the first girl you know to act like that. Not the first or the last Hawkins Hot Shot who thinks they're too pretty for this hometown. 

But then the words spew out and it's pretty clear why there's a fire lit inside you. Each step closer you get to Heather you're giving her hell.

My problem? What's yours? I'm so damn sick and tired of girls like you acting like this. 

Girls like me? What does that mean, huh? 

Yeah, like what? You wonder to yourself. 

Like Steve is some fucking goddamn pet that you can lead around on a leash. Pet when you want something. Tie up when you don't.

Oh. 

You're just another one of these stupid fucking girls. It's disgusting how you treat him. Disgusting, you know that?

You continue on with a drunken dissertation about how Steve Harrington deserves more than these stupid vapid girls and how not one of them deserved him. 

There's a small crowd growing, drawn to your loud voice and colorful language. And she's clearly tired of the show. Never really caring all that much about Steve, more about the hookup, now that she's got Jason in her grip Steve is an afterthought. 

Until he's standing right in front of her.

Heather. He says. Big brown doe eyes looking sad and disappointed… again. Makes your gut fucking churn. 

Pushing your way through the crowded living room you're out the front door before you know it, not wanting to stick around to hear whatever she had to say to him. You didn’t want to watch his face fall and realize it’s over before it even started

Leaning against the first car you see, you tisk your tongue as you realize that the one you landed on was his. Has to be, doesn't it? 

There's an odd silence there.The thick sounds of the music muffled by the walls of the house are there, but you pay them no mind. There’s squeals and drunk laughter and chanting, but they all feel so distant. It’s a silence that doesn’t actually exist. One you created. But then, what does crack through your bubble - the thing that breaks the silence…

What you said… did you mean that? 

You don't even look up. You nod your head. You explain that you're sick of it. Sick of hearing about all of these girls walking all over the nicest guy you know. Sick of the games they play. Sick. You didn’t look up from your shoes once. 

It's fine. Really. I deserve it. I used to be no better than them. 

Shut the fuck up, already! Don't you say that. 

Maybe. Maybe that's true. You demand that he stop beating himself up. Punishing himself for something - someone - who's been dead and long gone for years. You tell him how you can't stand these girls making a mockery of him when he's genuinely trying. Tell him how you're gonna fuck up the next one that thinks it's all a game. 

Shit. Well .. thats …  

What? Confusion clouds your brain. Not sure what he's trying to say. 

Steve. I just don't want anything to hurt you. Not a demodog… or a stupid girl. It's always the same and I'm sick of seeing you think you deserve it. Like, sometimes I think you fuckin do this on purpose to yourself. 

What do I deserve then, huh? What am I supposed to do? Because I don’t fuckin' know.

Steve…just stop it. You scoff. 

Gravel is kicked up behind you and the footsteps you hear are drawing closer to you, a smarmy and whiney voice comes out to greet you Well well well, thanks for that show in there.

Jason, I swear to God, you need to keep it moving. Fists curling at your sides without a thought. 

Didn’t know you got this little thing to fight your battles for you now, Harrington. Real cute. Total fall from grace, huh?

You’re on him quicker than he knows what to do. The last thing he expected was for you to wind up and clock him dead in the face. Jason falls backwards a few steps stumbling as he grabs at his face, covering the tender spot where you knocked him, the left side of his nose and just below the eye. He's not bleeding, per say. But you take note of the deep purple stain already pooling in the dip of his eye socket, so you know that mother fucker is gonna feel it for weeks. 

He doesn't need me to fight his battles, Jason. You say his name dripping with sarcasm. 

Then why'd ya punch me, you bitch? Sure looks like it. 

You hear him step forward. You just know the tense look in Steve's face and the way his jaw is set and clenched without even turning around. You know the blind rage he gets when he feels like he needs to defend one of his friends - someone he cares about. You're certain the muscles in his lips are ticking and twitching with anger. And you don't have time for his theatrics tonight. You've had enough of it already, so you reach your hand out and backwards, stopping him by his chest so he stops his advance. 

Instead you step forward. Not scared in the least of Jason fuckin' Carver and his buttercup yellow polo shirt. You smirk as you see a drop of crimson blood has fallen from the tip of his nose and onto its front, just knowing how he's going to have to ask his Mommy to get the stain out for him. 

I punched you because you're annoying me. Your face is stupid, you talk too much and you don't know when to mind your own goddamn business. Where's Heather anyway? You two are perfect for one another. 

You turn on your heels and walk to the other side of Steve's car, leaning against the side and not looking back at Jason and his idiot stuck up friends as they stumble down the neighborhood road away from the party.

Steve comes around the back of the car, looking at you. He hasn't said a word, so that's been great. Probably thinks you're certified insane tonight with the way things are going. 

Steve, I'm good. Jason is clearly not an issue anymore. You should go find Heather - 

But you're cut off before you can finish, because in a few long strides he's in front of you, grabbing at your shoulders to bring your eyes up to his. Telling you how it's hot when you defend his honor. 6. Talking about how hot it was when you were looking at him all jealous of another girl's attention and affection. About how he never noticed it before but now it makes so much sense. 

I don't do that. I didn't - 

Now it's his turn to scoff. 

You ask him what's so funny? And he literally doesn't answer you, just laughs some more with a shake of his head. Eyes roaming around your surroundings. He hasn't moved away from where he's standing in front of you. Somehow HE looks annoyed with YOU now and you're ready to pick a fight about it. 

Instead, all of the air is stolen from your lungs when Steve Harrington leans down and crashes his lips onto yours.

What was that for? You shove him back a little, but his feet are planted and he doesn't budge. 

The smile turning up the corner of his lips is irritating. Irritating because you don't know why he's smiling, but doubly so because it is really fucking cute. Oh nothing, just wanted to show my girl how much I appreciate her. 

Your girl? Steve, you are sorely mistaken. Did you hit your head? Heather is -.

Honey. Stop. Let's not do this.

He argues with you. Tells you how it all makes so much sense. About how none of the girls are you, so of course they didn't work. About how of course you're frustrated and feel protective. About how those dagger eyes you were wielding all night were, in fact, jealousy. Because you both feel the same way and neither was smart enough to notice. 

I'm done with Heather, honey. I'm done with all the Heathers. He waves his hand at the house party, still booming with noise and energy, but only focused on you.

The feverous press of his lips back on yours happens before you can even process what he's said. Pressed against the side of his car, his hands quickly slide up your side, finding a warm and comfortable home under the hem of your sweater. Cold fingertips dancing up your sides, thumbs squeezing where it's soft and dips into your tummy, knee sliding between your legs all in one smooth motion. 

He pulls his lips away to look at you, both of you panting deep breaths, chests rising and falling and eyes darting around one another's faces, trying to process what's unfolding for you both right now. 

Sorry. 

He huffs out an apology. Says he shouldn't have. Says he wasn't thinking. Says he's never thinking straight. Goes to pull away. 

You grab his wrist as he tries to retreat.

They're all fuckin' stupid. Steve, they're all stupid. I've been telling you every time. Every single goddamn time. 

He looks back at you, still unsure. Eyes a little sad - wavering. Guard down further than you've seen it in years. 

And if any one of them got their head out of their asses, they'd have been so fuckin' lucky. 

He goes to speak before you stop him - Don't. Don't say it. Don't do that bullshit again. Just … 

Back against the side of the BMW he's pressed into you tightly. Hands wrapped around your hips, fingertips digging into the denim covering your ass as he squeezes. It really was like… the hottest fuckin' thing to watch you punch Jason Carver… for me. He brings your hand to his lips and kisses your knuckles where they're sure to be sore tomorrow. 

Can I say thank you? 

He asks you with pleading eyes. You ask him Didn't you just say it? He shakes his head. Tells you that's not how he wants to say it. Tells you that's not what he means. That he wants to show you instead. 

And once you nod your head at him, theres no time for anything. No time for thinking, moving, rational decision making. Because you're just there, in between Steve's car and some janky van parked next to it, as he's tugging at your button, crooking his fingers in your belt loops, making it just so he can slide his hand inside your underwear and maneuver his fingers to your core. 

He's so fuckin' gentle it makes your head spin. Featherlight touches around you, gently playing with the folds and petals of your lips, a slippery waltz on and around your clit, dancing with his fingertip. Eyelashes fluttering with your head tilted back and resting on his car door, unable to formulate words or phrases or noises - rendered utterly frozen and useless..

What stupid fucking assholes. Those girls took a pass on this? On this boy who just wants someone to be with. On all this care, and attention and - oh my God. 

You're pulled from your blissful thoughts by a deep pressure, a fullness you didn't expect from Steve's long and thick fingers entering you briskly. Mouth open and gasping at the twist and turns of them until he finds a spot that makes you twitch, a spot he likes. A juxtaposition to those gentle caresses, he's driving his fingers deep into your pussy now, reaching and rubbing. 

Still soft and careful but deep and forefull. He's not driving his fingers into you like the last guy who used his hand like a jackhammer. No, Steve is caressing your pussy and following through with a deep roll of his fingers on the upswing. Pushing back, pushing upwards, making your hips buck up towards him uncontrollably. You cry out when he scissors his fingers just a bit and then follows up with the quick addition of a third finger.

As abruptly as he's inside, he's back out again, rubbing and circling over you with his four, flat fingers, satisfying pressure on your clit making you forget about how you missed them being inside you for just a moment.

Shit, Steve…I-  someone's gonna see.

Let them. Fuck… let them. I hope they do. Then they'll know. 

Slipping those fingers right back inside, slick and squelching, toying with you, making you suck all of the air out of the world around you, he brings himself right next to your ear, pressed up against you. Cheek to cheek. You feel the muscles on his forearm tensing and flexing as he pumps into you ruthlessly. White hot pleasure swirling deep in your stomach, staccato breaths brushing past his ear, eyes squeezed shut your orgasm ripples through your body - tummy to toes, tingling running up your spine and back down again as you exhale from a breath you didn't know you were holding.

He hasn't pulled away yet. Hadn't looked at you. Fingers still inside, palm pressed up against the car just beside your face as he whispers They'll know I'm done with them now. Cause I've always had you. 

[kikiwritesfanfic]

There Are Two Types of Dancers

A oneshot with both Fool and Sol from the renowned @venomous-qwille story - Ghost in the Machine

I've been working on this for so much longer than I expected to pfff- I just wanted it to be perfect for Qwille and all the readers of GITM! A bar has been set with that story and I wanted to at least reach it hahah-

Fool and Sol have become my personal favorites so far (although I'm sure it'll change as time goes on and I learn more about the others). Sol was rather easy to write in my opinion. But my lordy - Fool was a challenge! A fun one, at that, but still! I'm glad I got to challenge my writing and receive some amazing constructive criticism from others as I went!

Also - this is entirely self-indulgent hahah! I just love dancing scenes and I'm too impatient to wait for the possibility of such a scene happening in the story! So here you go, and I hope this lives up to your standards Qwille!!!

Read it on AO3 Instead -> Here

Or read the oneshot under the cut <3 Enjoy!!

*****

Fool definitely fascinated you.

His odd ramblings that always either ended in your confusion or laughter were somewhat... endearing.

Something told you that he didn't spend as much time with the others as he did with you. He seemed to make it a point to bring attention to his loneliness in jest when you would show up to the storage shed looking for different things. He would pursue a conversation with you every time without fail - whether with friendly banter or mocking jests or cheeky jokes all depended on the day. But each instance would still somehow end with you staying longer than you originally intended.

This time had been no different. You had allowed him to convince you to linger and play a game or two of mahjong (although you were pretty sure he only offered the particular game because he knew it had become your favorite). He used the excuse of not letting you walk back the short distance to the house in the rain - which you didn't wholly disagree with. Without your jacket back from Sol (or a replacement, at this point), you really didn't want to deal with the chilling water soaking through your clothes again. So you allowed him to entertain you with a few rounds.

Now you rested within the nest of pillows that filled the resin chariot as light thunder rumbled overhead - watching curiously as Fool shuffled a deck of cards with practiced precision. He was humming a tune you didn't recognize - but it filled you with memories of running around with friends and stuffing your mouth full of pink fluff that melted when it touched your tongue. You made a mental note to ask him about it later, given that you didn't want to interrupt him.

"Hasn't anyone told you that staring is rude, Sweetling?" he piped up suddenly, setting the cards up for a game of solitaire. You scoffed.

"I get told by Sol practically every day." The bot's eyes upturned into crescents, amusement sparkling in the dim lighting.

"My, my, then we'll have to fix that staring problem of yours," he fired back. " It can come across as terribly impolite. Although you are rather lucky I am so gracious as to accept your presence as a most humble apology." You mocked a scoff, fighting the grin that threatened to pull at the corners of your mouth.

"I think the circumstances of my arrangements should allow me some breathing room in that regard."

Fool didn't miss a beat with his response. "Oh, so you find me alluring enough to stare~?"

"Don't flatter yourself. The others are just as interesting as you."

The bot placed a hand to his chest as he did every time you managed to get in a silly insult. "Why must you always be so very cruel," he cried, using his other hand to dramatically scatter the cards on the table as he fell backwards to the floor. You couldn't help the giggle that fell from your lips.

"Oh no, have I broken you finally?"

He lifted his head slightly to peer at you over the edge of the low table. "Finally?" he repeated, sounding somewhat discouraged. "Is that really your harrowing intention? To break me down with your beautiful voice spewing malicious language until I am nothing more but a hunk of wires and metal? All so you can woefully put me back together and claim me as your own charming creation?"

"Who knows?" you asked mysteriously. He dropped his head back down.

"Hm... Would this be the right time to inform you that I've been keeping track of your insults to compliments ratio? I think it tells quite a lot about your character."

"Oh really?" You didn't need to be sarcastic - you were genuinely interested. "And what conclusion have you come to about my 'character'?"

He sprung up suddenly - startling you a bit further into the nest of pillows. He grabbed at his baton - spinning it around a few times before settling on placing the moon side in front of his face. "You're a terrible friend. Naughty. Rude."

"Surprising." You rolled your eyes and resettled yourself on the edge of the chariot, looking down at the mess he'd created with the cards. "How ever shall I make it up to you?"

There was a pause from the jester bot as he dropped the baton from his face and smiled. Mischief sparkled in his expression. "Oh, I thought you'd never grace me with such a question, Sweetling."

Before you had the opportunity to object, you were being lifted from your comfortable resting place to stand in the clear area in the center of the shed (which wasn't very much space, honestly). "Fool," you said, irritation clinging to the edge of your voice as you tried to regain your balance.

"Hm?" he hummed, listing his head to the side in an attempt to feign innocence. "Is something the matter? You're wearing quite the nasty scowl upon that pretty little face of yours." You placed your hands on your hips.

"Fool."

"Have I told you just how much I adore hearing my name from your beautiful lips, Sweetling?" He snatched up one of your hands and brought it to his mouth, ignoring your tone. He bowed his head down and spread his free arm out to the side. "Dance with me."

Seriously?

"I don't know how to dance."

He lifted his faceplate enough to peer at you from the tops of his eyes. "Ah, and neither do I," he whispered, before standing back to his full height and emitting that musical laughter you had come to adore. He tilted his head down and gave you a cheeky smile. "But you, dearest, had so graciously promised to make it up to me~"

"I didn't promise you any- Ah!"

Fool swept you away through the door of the shed before you could protest. Before you knew it, you were standing in the backyard as light rain poured down on the two of you.

"I thought you didn't want me to walk in the rain?" you questioned, quirking an eyebrow up at the bot - already feeling the chill of the water on your back.

"Correct!" he blurted, tugging you towards him with the hand that still held yours. You crashed into his chest embarrassingly. "But I never said anything in relation to dancing in the rain," he corrected, spinning around in a circle with you pinned to his body.

"Fool! Squishy human, remember?! Easily breakable!" you exclaimed. Fool released you immediately - drawing his hands away like a child discovering a hot stove for the first time. You didn't give it much thought, though. You were too busy trying to catch your breath.

"You need to work on your breathing, Sweetling. Hyperventilating in such conditions can give you a nasty bout of dizziness," he tutted, snatching up one of your hands again. He looked at you expectantly.

"You're not going to let me go back inside until I dance with you, huh?" you questioned once you stopped heaving. His smile stretched wider as he shook his head. It must've been contagious, because you chuckled and let a soft smile lift the corners of your mouth. "Fine. But how do you expect me to dance if we have no music?"

The bot tugged you again - gentler this time. You let him spin you around and dip you down so you were leaning back in his arms, looking up into his monochromatic eyes. "Ah~ But we need no accompaniment when the sound of your voice is already music to my ears, Sweetling," he mused. Then he lifted you back up and grasped your waist. "Can't you hear it now?" he called up into the downpour. "I think my sweet is bound to sing again soon!"

A giggle fell from your lips as you watched him. He mocked a gasp and looked back down to you. "Why look at that, the music is back! Now we must dance before it disappears again!" 

Laughter overtook your body now as you joined him - dancing lively in the chilly rain. You almost didn't notice the water slowly drenching your clothes. Somehow, Fool was actually a pretty good dancer in your opinion. He kept you moving - swiftly pulling you closer to him and pushing you away with the same precision he had when shuffling cards. It was fun all the way up until you caught something out of the corner of your eye.

When you turned towards the house to investigate, you barely saw the curtains being tugged back to the closed state you were used to seeing them in. The only thing you could make out in the blur was a low, glowing blue. Maybe you hadn't seen anything. The rain was really starting to come down now, and it wasn't exactly like you were standing still.

Fool must have noticed it, too. He had slowed the speed in which the two of you were dancing and pulled you closer to him again - although this time, he brought your hands up to rest on his shoulders and then dragged his own down to rest upon your waist. "There are many a people I've danced with in my lifetime," he started. You swore he shot a smug glance towards the house, but it could have just been your imagination. You were starting to feel the chill of the rain through your wet clothes now that the two of you were merely swaying from side to side, and it was proving to be rather distracting. "But you, my Sweetling, have been the most pleasurable to enjoy such a spontaneous moment with."

A shiver forced its way through your body. "Uh, thanks?"

The bot stopped his swaying, took hold of one of your hands, and dragged you back towards the shed. "Now - if you'd so please - I believe we were just about to indulge in a marvelous game of Go Fish, were we not?"

You rolled your eyes to the best of your ability despite Fool not even looking your way. "I believe you were setting up a game of Solitaire, actually."

"Oh my, was I now?" he asked as the two of you reached the door to the shed. He held it open for you. "How very forgetful of me. I guess my distraction must have been a rather breathtaking one to indulge in for me to forget such an important detail."

You felt your cheeks warm despite your steadily dropping temperature. "I guess so."

*****

The silence between a stare can relay a million emotions even with no words exchanged.

One stared from the window. One stared from the rain.

*****

"I saw the two of you," Sol piped up, keeping his hands clasped behind his back as he watched you work from the other side of the workbench. Your brows knitted together as you tried to decipher what he could possibly be talking about. A moment of silence passed as you hoped he would elaborate, but he didn't.

And then you remembered - the pull of curtains in the kitchen window and the blur of the glowing, pale blue you saw darting behind them. At the time you thought it to be nothing but a funny reflection from the gloomy lighting, but now...

"Are you talking about when Fool and I were dancing in the rain?"

A sound reminiscent of a scoff emitted from the bot as he leaned away from the work table, dragging your gaze from your work to look at him.

"You call that dancing?" he asked, listing his head to the side ever so slightly. The faint sound of mechanical clicks and internal fans emitted from his body - making his tauntingly benign smile take on a sinister shadow. "The imbécile didn't stay in time at all, and you kept tripping over your feet." You shook your head and went back to your work.

"What, thinking you can do better?" you asked, offended by his words. He grew silent, but you thought nothing of it. You didn't have time to appease Sol's unusual sudden interest in your time spent with Fool. You had to finish this, and his questions were only going to distract you and cause some sort of mistake in your meticulous work. So you turned back to your task at hand.

That was, until your wrists were being seized by the bot. You opened your mouth to object, dropping the tools from your clutch as you were dragged away from the table and to the only free spot in the room. What the hell was with these bots and their lack of understanding in regards to personal space? "Sol, what the fu-"

"A basic waltz is simple," he interrupted. He placed one of your hands on his shoulder, grasped your other hand with his, and then rested his free hand on your waist. "It starts with a box step."

Your brain fumbled for words as he gently pushed you backwards. Why was he teaching you how to waltz? Dancing in the rain with Fool had been a spontaneous decision with a rather large lack of judgement - leaving you freezing and shivering by the time the two of you had gone back inside. There wasn't anything proper about said dance, and you especially hadn't anticipated anyone watching it take place to begin with.

"Are you even paying attention?" Sol's voice pulled you from your thoughts as you stepped on his foot.

"S-Sorry," you muttered. Why were you sorry? You didn't even ask for this!

"You're not stepping in the right direction," he said simply. "This is a 3/4 time signature dance, not 4/4. You have to focus."

He started over, pushing you backwards yet again. You let your right foot fall behind you while he pulled you gently to the left, your left foot following suit. When he pulled you forward, you were unsure of which foot to move first, so you hesitated. Ungracefully, you tripped forwards and almost smacked your head against his chest.

A light blush defiantly dusted your cheeks as he sighed. You started over yet again, and your competitive nature made itself known with the bubbling frustration in your stomach. If he said it was simple, why were you struggling so much?

After a few clumsy tries, you eventually understood the rhythm. Backwards, sideways, together. Forwards, sideways, together. Repeat. You were by no means perfectly in time with Sol's feet, but he silently continued nonetheless. The only thing that messed you up was when he brought the hand that rested on your waist up to your chin.

He tilted your face up until you looked into his eyes and were no longer staring at your feet. "Darling, it's considered rude not to look at your partner while dancing."

The same frustration from before returned as you tripped over your feet again. "But I can't know where your feet are going to be if I'm looking at you," you huffed, avoiding his gaze.

"Relax. And focus." His smile loomed eerily over you as you looked up into his eyes nervously. There had to be some kind of trick to this, right? He talked about it as if it were the easiest thing in the world, yet here you were, unable to focus on the movements of both your feet and his at the same time without looking.

You shoved your frustration back down and drew in a breath. Backwards, sideways, together. Forwards, sideways, together. Repeat.

It took longer to get your feet to move the way you were telling them to, but once you ran through the steps three full times without messing up, you smiled.

"I'm doing it!" you said excitedly, almost tripping up at the deviation from your concentration. Sol didn't praise you, though, instead informing you that there was a lot more to it than what you were just starting to get a grasp on.

"You have to turn counterclockwise with every half box," he said, pulling you to the left. You couldn't remember what step you were on, letting out an exasperated breath as you kicked his ankle.

"Gah- Why can't we just be happy that I learned the beginning and leave it at that?" you cried, attempting to pull your hands away from him. But his grip on you tightened enough to make you look up into his eyes fearfully for a moment. Memories of your first encounter with the bot danced across your vision - bringing the ghost of an ache to your wrist. He loosened his grip at your expression, but still refused to let you go.

"There are a lot of things I let slide when it comes to you. But this, I simply will not let go." You felt your mouth go dry.

"What do you mean you let a lot of things slide? You're not my parent," you retorted, narrowing your eyes to accompany an annoyed glare. There was a long moment of silence after that as he just stared at you - perfectly still as his unchanging smile sent a shiver down your spine.

But then he was pushing you backwards again, restarting the steps and ignoring your comment entirely. You gave up, simply redirecting your attention on the steps you had to implement a counterclockwise turn into. You figured that it would be easier to learn had there been music playing or even a metronome sounding off your beats, but you were too stubborn to ask.

It took an embarrassingly long time to relearn the steps with the turn. But once you started to understand the pattern, it seemed to click in your head where your feet were supposed to go and when. You held Sol's gaze a little more confidently after that - even smiling at one point at the realization that you had been going on fifteen or so rotations without tripping or hesitating once.

Sol's blue eyes seemed to flicker for a moment when you smiled, but it could've just been the dim lighting of the workshop playing tricks on you as the two of you spun around. You actually felt yourself starting to enjoy the simplicity of the dance - wondering if there was anything else you were supposed to add.

When Sol stopped and dropped his hands from you suddenly, you frowned. "Wha- Did I do something wrong?" you asked, brows furrowed in confusion. "I thought we were doing pretty well."

"I was doing well," he countered. "You were only following my lead."

You scoffed and settled your hands on your hips. "Why can't you just be nice for once and compliment me?"

There was that silence again. But Sol's gloved hand shifted as he clenched it into a loose fist, filling the quiet space with the soft sound of silk on silk. You swore you could see emotions shifting behind his pale eyes for a fleeting moment, but you couldn't decipher which ones. As the quiet stretched on longer, you felt your frustration dwindle - hesitant anxiousness replacing it.

"Nevermind," you mumbled, pushing past him to your work table. You took your seat again and felt the frustration boil your blood as you fought the blush that warmed your cheeks. There was no reason for it. Sol was just being the same bot he'd been since you showed up - cold and blunt and honest.

So why did his refusal to compliment you make you feel so... bad?

You picked the tools back up and tried to distract yourself from the sunbot as he approached the side of the work table again, hands clasped behind his back once more. You ignored him - continuing with your task. After a bit, you started to hum to yourself while you worked. The melody was familiar, though you couldn't recall where you'd heard it. But soon you became so engrossed in your work - paired with your curiosity as to the tune you were emitting - that you almost completely forgot that Sol was even in the room with you.

"Do you prefer his company over mine?"

The question startled you to silence. You held your gaze to the table, though, as his words echoed in your mind. Was he referring to your time spent with Fool? You honestly hadn't put much thought into comparing the bots with each other besides physical appearance. There just wasn't a need - they were all different to you. Far too different for comparisons.

Your lack of a response must've struck a nerve, because Sol placed both of his hands on the table and leaned forwards. As you looked up at his smiling face, goosebumps erupted down your arms as a small reminder of the lack of warmth in the workshop. A faint click, click sounded from him before he spoke. "You were humming the same dreadful tune he does."

So that's why you'd sworn you had heard the tune before.

"I don't think I can answer your question without eliciting some kind of negative response from you," you quipped, peering back down. "I'd prefer if you would just let me work."

Apparently, that was the wrong answer as well.

Sol rounded the table in an instant - spinning your stool around and pressing you back into the wood's edge as he loomed over you. A gloved finger hooked under your chin and forced your eyes to meet his - that same unnerving smile burning its image into your mind. "Oh mon dieu," he tutted, the disappointment in his tone making unease cloud your mind. It almost felt as if a slow finger dragged its way up your spine, eliciting more goosebumps across your body. "Ma poupette, what ever are we going to do about your poor manners?"

*****

A/N: I wanted to leave what happens next up to your imaginations~

But ahhhhh how did I do?! Is it good?? Or is it GOOD??? I'm literally shaking right now as I'm typing this because I'm so excited and nervous for everyone to read this rahhh-

But as always, likes, comments, kudos, and reblogs are VERY MUCH APPRECIATED!! Stay sweet, my lovelies~!

[yronnia]

[Edit: check my reblog too, screenshots from the book kindly provided by spookydazechaos]

Agnesses Nyce and not so accurate prophecies with screenshots.

The full list below.

Some are unreadable (to me), so I inserted some X-es instead, where necessary. Interesting is, that Orient Chariot is mentioned twice, in prophecy nr. 3819 anf 4019.

Prophecy nr. 3012 is only one I cant allocate, dont tell me its about Aziraphale and Crowley, when Agness adressed Aziraphale by "angel" "thyf " and "principalitee", whats the bit about the dragons? Because they have wings?

1111- An the Great Hound sharl come

and the Two Powers sharl watch in V

Goeth Where is, Where they

Notte, and he sharl name it, True to l

and Hell sharl flee it

2213- I tell ye thyf, and I charge

ye with my wordes. Four shalle

ryde and Four shalle alfo ryde,

and Three sharl ryde the Skye

as twixt and Wonne shal ryde in

flames, and theyr shall be no stopping

themme, not fish, nor rayne nor rode, neirher

Deville nor Angel. And ye shalle be theyr also

2214- In December 1980 an Apple will arise no

man can eat. Invest thy money in Master Jobbes

thinking machine and good fortune

will tend thy days.

2315- Sumsay It cometh in Londo xxx or

New Yorke, butte they be Wronge, f xxx is

Taddes fild, Stronge inne hys powr, h xxxxke

a knight inee the fief, he divideth the xxx

4 partes, he bringeth the storme.

3001- Behinde the Eagles Neste a grate Ash hath fallen.

? 3007- Brings forth

For the devil lucks in plain sight.

Under an arc of pale moonlight.

3008- When that the angel readeth these

word of mine, in his shoppe of other mmennes

books, then the final days are certes upon us. Open

thyne eyes to understand. Open thyne eyes and rede

I do say, foolish principalitee, for thy cocoa doth

grow cold

3009- Seven, who hold the Scepther shall be killed,

xxx shall become a saint.

3011- xxThe?

and churces be laid open

opressed shall prevail, and oppose the cruen

foreginers. For a Boar of Cornwall shall give his

assistance and trample their necks under his feet

3012- A shower of blood shall rain and a ragging

famine shall afflict mankind. When dhese things

happen, the Red Dragon shall grieve, but when his

fatigue is over, he shall recover his strength. Then

shall misfortunes hasten upon the White Dragon,

and the buildings of his gardens be pulled down.

3017- I see Four Riding, bringing the Ende, and

the Angells of Hell ride with them, And Three sharl

Rise. And Four and Four Together be Four, and the

Dark Angel sharl Own Defeat, Yette the Manne

sharl claim his Own.

3477- Lette the wheel of Fate turne, let harts

en- join, there are othere Fyres than mine, when

the wynd blowethe the blos- soms, reach oute one

to anothere, for the calm cometh when Redde and

Whyte and BLacke and Pale approache to Pear is

Our Professioune.

3819- When Orients chariot

inverted be, four wheles in the

skye, a man with bruises be upon

Youre Bedde, achinge his head

for willowfine, a manne who

resterh with a pyn yette his

hart be.

3988- Whene menne of crocus come frome the

Earth and green manne frome thee Sky, yette ken

not why, and Plutos barres quitte the light- ning

castels, and sunken landes riseth, and Levia- than

runneth free, and Brazil is vert, then Three cometh

together and Four arise, upon iron horses ride, I tell

you the ende draweth nigh.

3989- He is not what he says he is

4009- Where the Hoggs back end the young

beast will take the world and Adams line will end

in fire and darkness.

4019- When Orients chariot inverted be a

man with bruises up thy bed, aching his head for

willow fine

4020- Let the wheel of fate turne, let harts

enjoin, there are other fyres than myne, when the

whirl wynd whirls, reach oute one to another.

5001- When the skies are xxxx, then ye

both must stand between the world and life and the

world of wae, where the iron bird lands no more

5004- When alle is fayed and all is done, ye

must choofe your faces wisely, for soon enouff

ye will be playing with fyre

[theninthdoor]

Can you do nct dream kissing styles

Mark || the chariot, the emperor: He's a tongue guy, for sure! These are intense, breath-taking kisses, even quite possessive, in a way? Needs to be holding the other person's face of hair, but may also like it when his partner does it. With these cards I also get the feeling that he prefers to be taller one, so he's towering over his partner while they're kissing, giving him even more control.

Renjun || six of wands, eight of swords: Renjun may be the type to open his eyes at some point during the kiss, just to see how his partner is reacting to it. Seeing the other person completely immersed in his lips motivates him and excites him, and that might actually cause things to escalate a little more… A waist hugger + a neck kisser.

Jeno || nine of pentacles, four of wands: First of all, he's not too much into PDA, I think. Jeno feels much more comfortable when in private, at home or somewhere quiet and calm; otherwise he can't really enjoy the moment. I see his kisses being soft, without too much tongue or movement, very romantic and gracious. He's giving me very prince charming vibes here, to be honest... super cute.

Haechan || the high priestess, eight of pentacles: Haechan adapts very well to the other person's kissing style, but he does maintain a little bit of his own still. He's a detailed kisser; pays attention to every reaction, soft spot, habits, and uses that to elevate his performance - he's most definitely a pleaser and takes great pride in being the best kissing partner anyone has ever had. I also see him enjoying leaving little pecks all over his partner's face.

Jaemin || ace of wands, the magician: I think Jaemin loves the surprise factor more than anything else, honestly. He likes to grab his partner's face out of nowhere and kiss them like there's no tomorrow, leaving them blushing (of course) yet confused. Also a tongue guy, but not as much as Mark. Plus, I see him being a talker, too! Kissing and talking at the same time happens a lot here, no doubt.

Chenle || king of pentacles, the hierophant: Chenle does things "by the book", in a way? It's almost as if he uses movie scenes or book descriptions as guidance to better his kissing skills, and then sticks to whatever seems to work the best. It's a dry, calm kiss; long, steady yet not intense at all. In fact, I see him being quite turned off by overly animated and/or messy kissers.

Jisung || the hermit, ten of pentacles: Another member who's not very much into PDA; Jisung also finds more comfort in private, quiet spaces and environments. His kisses are slow paced and his hands stay mostly in one spot only - so not a whole lot of action here either. I think Jisung prefers when he is pulled into a kiss instead of the other way around; he likes the feeling of being seeked by someone else's lips.

(Disclaimer: All is alleged and for entertainment purposes only. Based on current energies.)

[indigovigilance]

Tarot Symbolism in 1941

inspo: Three of Swords ask and answer by @embracing-the-ineffable

Okay guys this is outside my usual wheelhouse; I know just enough about tarot to be a nuisance. That said, once I saw the ask/answer above, I got to thinking about what other tarot symbolism might be in the S2E4 episode. "Nazi Zombie Flesheaters" was written by Jeremy Dyson and Andy Nyman, so it stands to reason this episode may contain unique elements not found elsewhere in the show.

I didn't analyze every suspect artifact, just the strong contenders. I'll demonstrate that whatever symbolism there may be directly pertains primarily to Aziraphale and to his relationship with Crowley. Below the cut we'll look at:

The Magician

The Chariot

Two of Coins

Ace of Coins

Three of Swords

Four of Swords

The Lovers

Two of Cups

Major Arcana

The Magician

First off may I just say that I am shocked and appalled that I have not come across a Fell the Marvelous magician tarot card. C'mon, artists of tumblr. Get it together.

This one is pretty obvious: Aziraphale is The Magician.

He has the ability to bridge the gap between heaven and earth and as such, he is capable of converting energy into matter.

The Magician is a card of manifestation: you want it so you make it happen. Aziraphale just grabbed this entire West End Stage situation by the horns and is steering it in the most ridiculous direction possible to show off for his knight in shining armor that just rescued him and his books.

Aziraphale manifests reality even when the miracle blocker is active: the bullet misses, and his notoriously unreliable sleight of hand works when he five-finger discounts Furfur's damning evidence.

Aziraphale is feeling his oats in this episode, and approaches every new challenge with the absolute and unwavering conviction that he can overcome it, and seemingly through sheer willpower, he does.

The magician is typically represented with all four symbols of power: a wand, a sword, a cup, and a coin (pentacle). This represents a high level of resourcefulness and adaptability, underlaid by the knowledge and skills necessary to deploy those tools.

The magician is a dangerous character, a boon to his allies and a threat to his enemies, but sometimes wields more power than wisdom. The magician has more ability to get what he wants than to necessarily know what is good for him.

The Chariot

This isn't symbolically referenced in 1941 per se but like I said, I have just enough knowledge of Tarot to be a nuisance and the symbolism was already there throughout the show so why not talk about it here.

This card depicts a black entity and a white entity (sometimes horses, sometimes sphynxes, depending on your deck) pulling a chariot. But the white thing and the black thing tend to be pulling in different directions, working against each other instead of with each other because they have different ideas about where the chariot they are both yoked to should be going:

It's rather inefficient.

And if that isn't a metaphor for Aziraphale and Crowley's influences on humanity and Earth, or the progress of their own relationship, I don't know what is.

But more generally, the Chariot represents the warring [internal] influences on the singular charioteer; their masculine and feminine aspects, their conscious and unconscious desires, etc. The message of the card is that the charioteer must define their goals so they can steer their powerful steeds in a single direction.

Much in this same way, Aziraphale [in the role of charioteer] is being pulled in opposite directions by his loyalty to Heaven and his conviction that Crowley is morally righteous. The challenge he faces is in unifying these beliefs.

The Magician & the Chariot

Where once there was one, now there are two; with the magician representing power and the chariot representing the unification of direction and purpose, the holistic effect is an incredibly powerful combination that can accomplish anything. Now that Crowley and Aziraphale have hitched themselves to the same cart, they will be unstoppable so long as they stick together and keep moving toward the same goal.

In the context of Aziraphale as the charioteer, however, the interpretation feels a bit more dire; there is great strength behind the forces that pull him in opposite directions, which now threaten to tear him in two. His ability to manifest has no clear direction.

Coins

Two of Coins (Pentacles)

Back at the bookshop, Aziraphale presents a sixpence and a farthing in the palm of his hand as part of a magic trick.

The Two of Coins is generally depicted as a juggler; like the chariot, this represents unsteadiness and conflict that needs to be resolved. The juggler is juggling multiple influences, trying to find balance and struggling to prioritize. It can indicate he is not giving enough of his energy to his romantic partner.

Ace of Coins (Pentacles)

After Aziraphale recites the magic words (and again, shocked and appalled that no one has done a meta on "banana fish gorilla shoelace with a dash of nutmeg," I mean are we meta-analysts or aren't we?) and the farthing has vanished, symbolically resolving the tension of duality:

The Ace of Coins (Pentacles), in the context of romance, represents a fresh start with a person who will provide stability: a knight in shining armor who arrives and provides a sense of security. It can represent a new beginning or a strengthening bond within an existing relationship.

If you have been considering taking your relationship to the next level, [the ace of coins] can also serve as a good omen.

I'm not even kidding, that's a straight quote from the source text.

Two of Coins -> Ace of Coins

Within this magic trick we have a symbolic transition from relational instability to stability, from unresolved romantic tension to a fresh start and strong bonding. If the magic trick is representative of Aziraphale and Crowley's relationship, this transition is a sign that they are coming closer together and starting a new chapter of their romance.

Three of Swords

Taken directly from the inspo; in the magic shop, as they are discussing the bullet catch, Aziraphale is standing in front of the Excalibur chest. Three swords emerge from the right side, and appear to be piercing his spine. The most direct imagery correlation is with this version of the Three of Swords:

The Upright Three of Swords signifies a sudden and unexpected blow to your emotions. When you see this card in a reading, it often foretells the sudden loss of a loved one, the realization of betrayal, or the end of an important relationship with someone you loved very much.

This accurately represents how Aziraphale felt the last time they saw each other, following the holy water request in St. James' Park.

At the end of this scene, Aziraphale disavows their "fraternity" and stalks off in a huff. Crowley makes no attempt to stop him. Clearly, neither of them expected the conversation to go this way, and each feels betrayed by the other.

Three of Swords & The Magician

When this duo appears in a reading, a breakdown in communication is causing serious issues.

During the entirety of S2E4, Aziraphale rushes boldly forward without duly considering Crowley's objections; by the same token, Crowley is also not being honest about his limitations. The "serious issue" that this causes is Crowley almost shooting Aziraphale in the face, a situation they would not be in if Aziraphale had not been so bull-headed about performing a dangerous and unfamiliar show-stopping trick.

Their relationship has barely been rekindled and has not had time to heal from the damage done in St. James' Park; it is too fragile for them to speak honestly with each other, and Aziraphale, fired up by egoistic fervor, charges boldly ahead with minimal regard for the consequences.

Suffice to say, this is some on-the-nose symbolism.

Four of Swords

When Aziraphale shakes Crowley's hand, he brings his hand up uncomfortably high to chest height, which seems like an odd choice until you realize that he has to do that in order to get his hand lined up perfectly between the aperture of the camera and the sword that sticks up from the Excalibur Chest. The three swords still emerge from his back, so Aziraphale is now the focal point of four swords. Additionally, the arrangement of the swords is in keeping with the general depiction of the tarot card; one sword is in his control/possession, three are not.

The Four of Swords is a symbol of chaos. It warns the subject that they are overwhelmed, overstimulated, out of touch:

- Haven't you fired a gun before? - Not as such.

...and needs to retreat and rest.

In romance, it can indicate that a rocky relationship is stabilizing and returning to normal. But it can also portent new issues that will make or break the relationship. One way or another, it is indicative of relational stress that needs to be resolved.

Four of Swords & The Magician

The combination with the Magician foreshadows a long-term relationship in your future. The key interpretation of the Four of Swords in this combo is that building yourself as a person first will attract the right partner.

Aziraphale (the Magician in question) has a lot of self-work to do resolving his attitudes about Good and Evil in order to be a good partner for Crowley, but if he can do it, the Four of Swords symbolism in this scene is a positive portent for their relationship.

Three of Swords -> Four of Swords

The transition from the Three of Swords to Four of Swords seems to indicate that a relationship broken by bad communication is starting to heal; it is not completely repaired, and there is still work to be done, but they have taken the first step. But it may also indicate that Aziraphale has bitten off more than he can chew and has introduced chaos into the relationship in his attempt to repair it.

The Lovers

We can't talk about Tarot without talking about the Lovers. Well, we could, but I'd get a lot of comments about it. The romantic candlelit scene invokes an image of lovers, so I'm running with it.

This card is rich with relevant symbolism and deserves its own meta from anyone who wants to do it. I will only briefly discuss it here insofar as it is directly relevant to the S2E4 depiction of events that occurred in 1941.

The upright Lovers tarot card can imply that you have major life-changing choices or are faced with a dilemma. Temptation is often part of that choice or dilemma.

Aziraphale constantly oscillates between the side of Heaven and the Third Side, but the events at the church have swung the needle and imbued our angel with a renewed sense of allegiance to his demonic companion. But this only serves to make things more complicated; no sooner is the flame of romance reignited than Furfur shows up to threaten Crowley, using their association as evidence against him. Miraculous escape notwithstanding, the danger of the situation is apparent. Aziraphale is aware that he may soon have to make some tough choices about who's side he's really on.

Two of Cups

The Two of Cups tarot card is one of the most positive relationship cards in the deck. When you pull this card in a reading, it stands for harmony, togetherness, and working as a team to build a strong partnership.

The Two of Cups is arguably more about love than The Lovers. This card indicates that the subject is in a deeply intimate, supportive romantic relationship. It serves to confirm that they've found The One.

The Magician & Two of Cups

...your new lover won’t be someone new at all, but a friend you already know well.

With the combined symbolism of Fell the Marvelous and the two glasses of wine at the end of the night, we have some holistic tarot symbolism that these two friends that go back a long time are, well... soulmates.

IN SUMMARY

I have no idea how much Jeremy Dyson and Andy Nyman, or by extension Neil Gaiman and John Finnemore, are into tarot, but it's a show about angels and demons and the episode features homoerotic magic tricks and Nazi zombies, so, you know... it wouldn't be the weirdest thing they've done to include some tarot symbolism.

This was a fun meta to write and if you enjoyed it please say so; if anyone would like me to do a deep dive into the Lovers card, let me know, and I'll put some energy into it the next time I feel like neglecting meatspace responsibilities.

If you enjoyed this meta, you may enjoy Why Aziraphale Wears Spectacles or, if you want to see my full catalog of metas, you can check out indigovigilance original content (metas)

[celticcrossanon]

BRF Reading - 28th of January, 2024

This is speculation only

Cards pulled on the 28th of January, 2024

Question: Why are Lady C, Neil Sean etc referring to the children as "Harry's kids" (and not mentioning Meghan)?

Note: I needed a topic to draw on where I can treat it as a puzzle and not have any emotional involvement, as I am exhausted after trying to read on Prince William. We will see how this goes.

Note: I did not use reversals in this reading.

Interpretation: This has to do with Harry.

Card One: The King of Pentacles.

This card is telling me that this is about money and/or status. The King of Pentacles is someone who looks after their family, the protective father and businessman who provides financial abundance for his family. The money aspect of this card is coming through very clearly. This is about paying for something or giving money to something - something about money and the use of money/resources. It is a king, so this is coming from very high up - a directive to refer to the children in this way. The King of Pentacles is Taurus, and Taurus cam be very stubborn - someone is set on doing things this way. The House of Taurus, House 2, is also the house of self worth, values and morals, so values - what you believe - could come into this as well.

Card Two: The Eight of Cups.

This is about walking away from something, and that is the energy of this card - someone is walking away from a situation that is untenable. It has an energy of retreat, defence, withdrawing to a better fortified position, running away to live another day, etc Someone is withdrawing from something. Cups are the suit of emotions, so this is an emotional withdrawal, but it feels like distancing yourself from a situation and looking for someone to blame, not cutting someone off emotionally.

Card Three: The Chariot.

The Chariot is a card of forging ahead to get what you want. That is not the energy of this card. Instead I am getting the energy of being stuck, which is the card in reverse. Someone feels stuck and is trying to get themselves unstuck, somehow. I am also seeing the figure on the card, the god of War, which tells me that this is part of a battle that is going on behind the scenes. The Chariot is also the card of Cancer, which is the sign of home and the mother, and the mother energy is coming through here in conjunction with the war energy - a battle with the mother? about the mother? Something about the mother or the maternal parent (however slight that maternal role may be).

Underlying Energy: The Knight of Wands

This is coming through to me as Harry, but Harry in the rebellious, reckless, arrogant and action energy of the Knight of Wands, i.e. harry did something reckless (stupid) and was arrogant (stupid) enough to think that he would not get caught, and that action is what is powering this change in how people refer to his children.

Conclusion: The change to calling the children 'Harry's children' is part of a directive that came down from higher up (the King of Pentacles). It has to do with money, values, retreating from a difficult situation (i.e. looking for others to blame), and fighting about the mother or trying to position someone as the maternal parent in a war of some sort.

All of this is because of a reckless act of Harry's and the consequences of that act.

That's it. I know this was short but I am just not picking up on anything else tonight. Sorry.

[mydarllinglover]

Playing Favourites || Three

Previous

Lake hopped off the Chariot, lifting Cove down, by the waist, as they were greeted by their mentors and stylists, at the Training centre.

"You both did great, no one can shut up about you guys." Oscar told them.

"Thanks." Cove grinned, hugging herself tightly, it was freezing down here.

"Here." Finnick had noticed her shivering, he was quick to drape his jacket over her, he knew how humiliating it was to be practically naked for the world to see.

"Thank you." She nodded at him, slipping her arms into the sleeve's.

"Let's get you guys upstairs, Remus is probably already up there, pacing a hole into the floor." Oscar said, moving towards the elevators.

The stylists followed, as they made their way to the Elevators, all clambering in, before the other districts could.

As the door's closed, Cove spotted the same two pairs of eyes that had been watching her earlier, but this time, their tribute partners were following.

"They either hate me, or plan on killing me first." Cove muttered, maintaining eye contact with them, until the doors were fully shut, and they were travelling to the fourth floor.

"Who?" Oscar asked.

"Careers." Lake answered for her.

"Hm, we will talk about your strengths and skills during dinner." He decided. "Your first day of training is tomorrow."

Cove adjusted one of the lashes, as it was irritating her, but her hand was quickly slapped away by Linus.

"Do not touch the art." He told her.

"The art is my face." She replied, but there was no fight in her tone.

"You may take it off, when you get to your own quarters, for now, I want us all to revel in my work."

"Can I make a suggestion for your next design?" Cove raised her hand, sheepishly.

"What might that be?" He folded his arms across his chest, raising a brow.

"Underwear." She replied.

Lake, as well as their mentors, scoffed at her comment, stifling chuckles behind coughs, as Oscar attempted to tell her off.

"Cove, do not be so rude!" He mimicked Remus.

"What?! I am about to be sent to my death, I'd like to take a bit of dignity to my grave."

"Tippet." Finnick shook his head disapprovingly, as everyone else had gone quiet.

"Just being realistic." She muttered, casting her eyes back done to the ground floor, where all the citizens had gotten smaller.

The elevators doors opened, and they walked into an beautiful apartment, their home for the next week.

"Welcome to District 4's floor." Remus introduced, before walking the two tributes around the place, showing them their own quarters.

Cove didn't bother looking around her room, instead, headed straight for her ensuite bathroom, that was larger than her own bedroom, at home.

She took another look in the mirror, letting her true thoughts invade her mind.

She hated the outfit, and she felt humiliated at the fact that the whole of Panem saw her in it, saw her barely dressed, it was enough to churn her stomach.

If being preyed upon, and lusted over was her way to victory, she truly would rather die in the arena, fuck what Finnick thought.

Cove had a go at pressing the many buttons, figuring out what they all were, before splashing her face with cold water, breaking up the make up on her face, before pulling the lashes off her face, freeing her eyes of its weight.

She grabbed a wash cloth, wetting it, then scrubbed her face roughly, until her eyelids were no longer blue, her skin was it's natural hue, and she could recognise it.

She then untangled herself from the dress, un-braiding the two fishtails from her hair, and slipping under the hot steamy water.

Running her fingers through her hair, the pearls dropped to the floor, she could feel it going back to its normal way, her curls coming back, the gel leaving.

She sighed, trying to find peace in the solitude, but she still felt trapped, she wanted to go home, she missed her father, her life, her jobs and the people, she wanted her bed and her shark.

Tears began trailing down her cheek, before the sobs started, too, until she collapsed to the ground, knees to her chest as she rocked back and forth, she hated it here, she hated the citizens of the capital, her stylists, her mentor, and the president, she hated President Snow more than anything in the world, he took her brother away from her, then her mother, and now, he was about to take her life, too.

She always wanted to spend her last days by the sea, around the people she loved, that's what she'd spend late nights thinking about, but now, he was taking that away from her, too.

It was a while later, when she joined everyone for dinner, dressed in long trousers, and a turtleneck, she'd hope her stylist would take a hint.

"Oh, if you asked, I could've showed you the button for your hair." Remus told Cove, using his knife to point at her wet curls, dripping down her back.

"That's okay." I prefer my hair like this." She replied, taking a seat beside Lake, once again, sat opposite Finnick, who was looking at her, as she placed some salmon and rice on her plate

Linus dropped his fork on his plate.

"Your hair looks lovely, Cove, let's talk tactics." Oscar swayed the conversation.

"Finally." Lake commented, taking a bite of his own food.

"Alright, per your enthusiasm, we'll start with you. What are you good at?"

All eyes turned to the boy.

"Uh... I..." He shrugged his shoulders, trying to think. "I was good at the academy, pretty good with combat, I can wrestle." Lake decided on.

"Yeah, that can be useful, if you plan on body slamming all the other tributes." Oscar shared. "What about weapons?"

"Look, I know what I can do, my issue is her." He nodded his head at his female partner. "Help her."

"Excuse you." She scoffed at him.

"Cove?"

"Sorry, eating." She looked back down at her meal, uninterested, now.

"S'good with knives." Finnick spoke up, to everyone's surprise. "Quick, too. Good climber."

"Yeah, until she stopped applying herself, when she dropped out." Lake rolled his eyes.

"I don't wish to fight anyone." She nibbled a piece of Salmon.

"Alright, fine, before I give myself an aneurism, lets focus on the crowdwork, we already know that they love you, you're good at what you're doing, so far, but being kind and polite, people are going to get bored of that, quickly. Lake, you said they were eyeing our girl up?" He looked at the boy, again.

"Yeah." He smirked. "You could feel their thoughts all the way from our chariot."

Cove felt a sharp kick to her shin, her eyes shot to the blond sat in front of her, spotting how his jaw was clenched, he had become stiff, as he sipped his wine, his eyes on his drink.

She moved her legs back, further from him, as she listened to her partner and mentor talk.

"Look, this can either be really good for you, or really fucking bad." Oscar rubbed his temples as he thought. "So, during this week, in training, I want you to get to know them, know them good. Do tasks with them, converse during lunch, if they approach you, act inviting, basically, you're gonna flirt with them so much, that they forget they wanna kill you."

Cove choked on her rice, as she heard what he said.

"What?" She gasped.

"Flirt, I want you to flirt, come on, it's not that hard of a concept to understand."

"I'm not doing that." She awkwardly chuckled.

"Or don't know how." Lake supplied.

"Huh? No, you know how to flirt, be serious." Oscar batted the idea away.

"No... he's right." She mumbled, her cheeks turning a rosy colour "I wouldn't have a clue."

"How old are you?"

"Eighteen..."

"And you're telling me you've never flirted with anyone?"

Cove really hated this conversation.

She shook her head.

"Seriously?" He looked her up and down, not believing her.

She nodded.

"Pfft, okay, uhm, who do you fancy?" He tried.

"Excuse me?" She glared.

"Just answer the question." Lake told her.

"Fine, no one. What is this, a slumber party, are we all gonna braid each others hair and share our deep dark secrets?"

"Close your eyes." Oscar told her.

"Why?"

"I'm your mentor, I ask the questions and make the demands, close your eyes." He pointed at her.

She did as she was told, with a long sigh.

"Okay, now I want you to picture who you fancy, think hard, who you crush on, at school, who you wish would take you out on dates, who you wanna end up with, for the rest of your life."

Cove did as he said, trying to picture a person in her mind, thinking hard about the people in her class, who did she think about romantically?

"Now, tell me who."

"Uhm..."

"Cove, what did I say?"

"Fine." She opened her eyes, meeting those sea-green iris's, who were staring intently, at her, then she looked at her other mentor. "Marsh Scute."

"Marsh?!" Both Lake and Finnick demanded, though the latter had even slammed his cutlery on the table, slightly standing up, shocked by the reveal.

"Yeah..."

"Marsh is?" Remus asked.

"A boy in our class." Cove replied, twirling a strand of her hair. "He works at the docks."

"Okay... and what do you like about him?" Oscar asked.

"Is he cute?" Linus queried.

"Well... his Mom cooked a casserole for me and my dad, once, and he brought it over, and another time, I was singing at the tavern, and he gave me flowers."

"That's it?" Finnick asked.

"Yes." She nodded. "I thought it was very sweet."

"Oh brother." Lake shook his head.

"And, you never thought to make a move?" Linus asked.

"No..." She shook her head. "I wouldn't know what to say."

"See, I thought you were just holding out until you and Odair finally got back together, and popped out a shoal." Lake played with his food, as he thought out loud.

"Huh?" Cove's jaw dropped, as her head spun, to look at him.

Finnick's eyes had shot wide, his eyes moving from Cove almost instantly.

The adults around the table looked at the two, as though they were observing a tennis game.

"What's this?" Remus asked.

"Nothing!" Cove objected. "Lake, what the hell are you talking about?"

"Y'know, how in love you two were, before he went off to his games, come on, you don't think anyone noticed?"

"We were not in love." Cove argued.

"Yeah, just friends, that was it." Finnick agreed.

"Is what you told yourselves."

"Wrong!"

"Awe, Finnick, you didn't tell us you're friends with a tribute." Remus smiled.

"He's not." Cove replied. "Not for a long time."

"Oh..." He let out a disappointed sigh.

"Right, shall we get back on topic?" Oscar asked, still watching the two, the boy staring at the girl, with sad eyes, he remembered how the kid had opened up about the girl from their district, throughout the years he had known him, Oscar just never realised it was her.

"Yes." She nodded.

"Okay, look, I know you can do this, kid, look how you are on the stage, at home, you're passionate and charismatic, there."

"Yeah, I'm really passionate about being able to put food on the table, and a roof over my father and I's head." She blinked, her fingers interlocked with each other.

"Well, be passionate about staying alive." He waved his hand. "Then, you won't ever have to work a day in your life, and you will have a new and better roof over you and your fathers head."

"Look, I can try, but I don't know what I'm doing."

"I can teach you." Remus, Linus, and Lake's stylist, spoke up, all at the same time.

"What?" She asked, as the other three turned to them.

"It's easy, and with a face like yours, and a chest like that, it should be second nature." Linus told her, bluntly.

"Oh, uhm." She folded her hands over her chest, as she looked back down at the table.

"Okay, we'll talk more, at breakfast, it's bed time, need my tributes to get a lot of rest." Oscar stood from the table, taking the wine canteen with him, heading in the direction of where Cove guessed his room was.

Cove also got up from the table, heading for her own chambers, quickly, in the event that no one would stop her.

She looked around her room, sitting down on the large bed, taking it all in.

She had to give props to the Capital, letting the districts live a limited time of luxury, before their death, she guessed it was to show what the Hunger Games were for, why the districts were divided, so that they could live this everyday.

Cove picked up the remote, that was sat on the table beside the bed, pressing a button, and then her room sounded as though it were raining, the wind flowing through leaves, as drops of water fell.

Then she pressed another button, and suddenly the walls had turned into tree's it was dark, and she was surrounded by nature, out in the woods during a storm.

She laid down on the bed, before pressing the same button, now, she was in a desert.

She pressed the first button, again, hoping to find what matches with this, and she wasn't disappointed, as the sound of shifting sand travelled to her ears.

Another button was pressed, and she almost felt like she was home, as she looked at the beach around her, the beautiful water crashing around rocks.

She could've cried when the sounds followed, and then she did, she felt like she'd cried more this week, then the past 4 years, which was enough to make herself feel pathetic.

Her best friend being shipped off to the games, and coming back as a different person, her brother being reaped and killed, and then her mother too, and her father losing himself. But the fact that she can no longer be in the sea, brought up the old feelings of the past, was what got the waterworks going, huh.

She layed on the bed, spread out like a starfish, as she stared at the ceiling, listening to her favourite sound, she didn't even know for how long, before once again, she was interrupted by a knock on the door.

She stared at it for a moment, before there was another, this time, it sounded a lot more impatient.

Cove rolled her eyes, getting up and heading for the door.

"What?" She asked.

"I wanted to talk." Finnick replied.

"Okay, so talk." She waved for him to continue.

"May I come in?" He brushed past her, walking into her room, for the second night in a row.

"You're not allowed in here." She told him, closing the door.

"You think rules apply to a victor?" He smirked, looked over his shoulder, at her.

"Apparently not. What do you want?"

"I just..." He sat down on her bed. "It's just that... Marsh, seriously?" He looked up at her.

"Are you- Finn, get out of my room." She glared at him.

"No, no, I'm confused, you owe me an explanation."

"Uh, no, I don't think I do, it's none of your business, actually." She shook her head. "But are you here for a real reason?"

"Well, yeah, but also I wanna know why you would be interested in a guy like Marsh, out of all people."

"I happen to think he's really nice."

"Nice?!" His brows shot up. "You're settling for a guy who's "Nice", that's it?"

"We're not getting married, just, I don't know." She shrugged, falling backwards, onto her bed, beside him. "I was under pressure, he was the first guy I thought of."

"You can do better." He laid down, looking at her.

"Oh yeah? Mr Capital darling, everyone loves me." She poked him, doing a poor impression of the boy.

He cracked, chuckling at her poor imitation, as he grabbed her finger, pushing it away from his face.

"Y'know, someone's Mom actually passed out, when you walked on stage, at the reaping." She shared.

"Really?" He asked.

"Yeah, didn't you see?" She furrowed her brows, at him.

"No, guess I was just focused on something else." He looked away from her, up at the ceiling instead.

"Hm, well, you're very popular in our classes, as well, especially with Tampa Riverbank."

"Tampa Riverbank?!" He almost snapped his neck, as he looked back at her.

"Yup, pretty sure she had some secret fan club, for you."

"Oh, god." He sighed, a grimace on his face. "Its a curse, to be this devilishly handsome, y'know."

"Oh really?" Cove teased. "So you wouldn't know anything about that, then?"

He let out a gasp, as he rolled onto his forearms.

"Cove Tippet, you don't think I'm handsome?" He asked.

"Hmmm." She tapped her chin. "No." She shook her head.

"Liar." He grinned.

"I don't think so."

"Yeah, you do, you think I'm really handsome, more handsome than Marsh."

"No way." She snorted.

Finnick sat up, leaning over her, his hands beside her head as he looked down.

"Admit it, Cove, you were part of the Fanclub, weren't you?" He asked, his face full of seriousness.

"I definitely was not."

"You were the president, huh?"

"Get off of me, Finn." She laughed.

"No, you gotta fight me off."

"What? Come on, move." She tapped his side.

"I'm another tribute, I'm about to kill you, what do you do, Cove?"

"Saying my last goodbyes." She replied, boredly.

"Seriously, come on."

With every second, he began to put more weight on her, urging for her to hurry up.

She pushed at his shoulders, but he refused to move.

But then, like a second instinct, she wrapped her leg around his hip, using all her strength, to rock him, before knocking him over, onto the bed, letting her straddle him.

"Is this where I slit your throat, and accept my crown?" She asked, not bothering to move.

"That was good, but, if I actually wanted to kill you, you'd already be dead, by now." He tapped her thighs, to get off, which she did, letting him sit up. "Come on, I wanna show you something."

"What?" She asked, following him, as he got up from her bed, heading for the door.

"The training room."

Next

[acrystalwitch]

DEITY GUIDE

(From research but also from my own workings with her as my matron. This isn’t meant to be strictly historical this is more for pagans wanting to work with her. There will be a lot of UPG or SPG)

Selene is a Greek Titan (I call her goddess because I find it honoring but she is a Titan) She is the moon incarnate. The embodiment of the moon itself in spirit form. I believe to look up at the moon and call it beautiful is to call her beautiful as well.

Her parents are Hyperion and Theia and her siblings are Helios (The Sun) and Eos (The Dawn)

She is ever changing and ever shifting.

The myths of her have a lot to do with a man named Endymion. There are many versions, but my favorite take I’ve ever heard is that he was a human she fell in love with. She knew that he would die one day and couldn’t bear that. So she requested to Zeus that when it was his time to die, he’d go in his sleep, and he’d instead just sleep forever, preserved and immortal. She visits him every night and has many children with him. (I like to believe the version that this was all consensual and that Endymion would’ve wanted it this was as well)

What working with her is like?

She is as ever shifting and multifaceted as the moon itself. She is a sweet mother, and a firm scolder.

She is the only deity I’ve had who has set off my fire alarms (it was a very normal glass candle with no herbs or extras 😅) and a second time she melted a pillar candle of hers onto the floor because she got very excited that there was a lot of love in my household that day.

She doesn’t put up with me wallowing, she wants me to confront my issues head on. Has tried to work with me on emotional problems and addictions. She’s a fierce protector of women and I’ve found that she will even look out for my girlfriend’s emotions as well, though she doesn’t work with her.

She is a strong mother figure, loving yet stern. She also can go quiet for long periods of time. In my experience prefers meditation as communicating, or the moon oracle deck I have.

Offerings for Selene:

(What I personally have given her or known others to say that she likes! Feel free to add your own id love to know!)

Physical offerings:

- moon water

- moon stone

- selenite (named after her!)

- amethyst

- moon imagery

- grey candles

- white candles

- jewelry

- silver coins

- flowers that bloom at night

- white flowers

- imagery of white horses (she has a chariot)

- the moon tarot card

- the lovers tarot card

- the chariot tarot card

Devotional offerings

- look up at the moon! Call her beautiful

- learn about the moon phases

- look after yourself and your health

- meditate with her

- draw pictures of her/the moon

-write songs/poetry

- don’t be afraid to feel your feelings!

Personally, though she is my matron I have some of the most difficult times connecting with her. It could be due to my issues with my mother and seeing her as a mother figure. But, I’d say if you want to work with her be prepared for it to be a bit different than most deity work talked about.

She’s quiet and confusing at times and requires a lot of work. But she’s also patient and forgiving and loving. All in all if you feel a pull to her, I’d say go for it! Just be very respectful of her!

[weniswastelandwenis]

How would they react to Sole getting stuck in a glue trap?

Thank you so much for sending this, It was very spiritual for us to complete it.

Fallout 4 Companions React to Sole Getting Stuck In A Glue Trap

Cait:

Her rock&roll lifestyle led her to see many glue trap related incidents. First she would attempt to pull them free, but then after about 2 minutes of effort she would give up. “Well, that’s what you get for stealin me lucky charms.” They both lay in defeat and pass a blunt back and forth, Cait having to hold it for Sole, until the sun rises.

Codsworth: 

Would scream in surprise at Sole’s unfortunate situation. “MUM! What happened?” Erratically, he would blast them with 20 bars of bursting pressure, the same powerful pressure of a firehose, in an attempt to free them. “If the sir were here to see this, he would be in shambles!” Many days and nights passed, and finally Sole was free, but chronically mangled, only to pass away in agony in Shaun’s crib.

Curie: 

Spanks them sexily and rewards them for being mothers naughty wastelander. 

Danse: 

“Well I’m a synth and you accepted me, so I guess I can accept you being part glue.” Danse says warmly with a smile. Unfortunately, actions spoke louder than words, and Danse began alienating sole, treating them as if they were a feral ghoul. Sole then began spiraling and doing more drugs with hancock ever before. If they were being treated like a ghoul, then they would become a ghoul. Danse heard the news and a single tear fell from his eye, and fell to his knees. Last night, hancock carried his glue ridden friend to the glowing sea so they could become a ghoul, only for the two to get hit by a car, a rarity in the wasteland, and died instantly.

Deacon:

Would assume it’s a wacky new trend all the commonwealth folk are into, and would bring his own glue trap from home. He sets it up next to sole’s glue trap and jumps into it belly-first, making a loud resounding SPLAT noise. Sole cannot believe their eyes and begins openly weeping, for the one ounce of hope they had of getting free was eradicated right before their very eyes, and instead was a slime covered bald man wielding sunglasses and a huge grin.

Hancock: 

He ties sole’s arms to one brahmin, and legs to another. At the peak of night, he fires off his shotgun into the sky, and though not usually a religious man, says a silent prayer. A CRACK! Noise sounds around the wasteland, and he couldn’t bear to look at the source of the noise: Sole’s freedom, or their demise? Instead, he picked a spot on the distant horizon, and began walking. Some say to this day, he still does.

MacCready: 

He has heard that gasoline will loosen the glue but after a few beers and a bad batch of cram he accidentally burns down the house with sole inside it. He watches the blaze of glory with an almost proud smile on his face

Valentine:

Nick had heard rumors on the street of the vanishing sticky dame, and had to find out for himself if they were true. Ellie laid sultrily on the desk; he wasn’t sure what was going on there. “So Nick, I thought maybe we could go to Takahashi’s, maybe grab a bite to eat?” Ignoring her and heading for the door, he tosses her 10 stacks of paperwork and she collapses on the ground. “Gotta job to do, seeya Ellie.” 

~

Years pass, and he just can’t seem to catch a break. He’s down to one last lead: and it takes him to the glowing sea. Almost all hope is lost, his spirits are down, and he’s almost given up until he steps in something, and it makes a squishing sound. Looking down, there is a giant human-sized glue trap, and a skeleton stuck to it. He takes off his fedora and gets down on one knee. “Swing low sweet chariots.” He whispers.

Piper:

She thinks being stuck in a glue trap is pretty good material for a story. She reports on sole and the glue trap daily for months and actually gathers a decent sized crowd who wait every week to hear about sole and the glue. Sole tries to escape but Piper covers them in more glue because she is blinded by her success. Piper writes an article after article and to this day settlers come from around the world to see sole, begging for help from the trap as Piper smiles on, adorned in expensive clothes and jewels. 

Preston:

In his effort to find Sole and warn them that their 15th settlement was taken over by radioactive mimes, he stumbled upon them in a dark room, 90% glue, 9% shame, and 1% sole survivor. Their time was running out, and he knew it, but so were the other 900 settlers he decided were their problem after 1 week of meeting them. A lightbulb popped up in his head, and after many days of toiling with Danse and his brotherhood connections, they had created a custom power armor suit that allowed sole to perform their duties while in the glue trap. All was well, he thought.

Strong: 

Picks up Sole and smashes them on the concrete ground until they are free.

X6: 

He can’t fathom the level of pathetic one has to be to get trapped in glue. He is disgusted beyond belief and decides sole doesn’t deserve the embarrassment of being alive any longer. “Count the ceiling tiles on your way to hell dumbass.” He says before shooting them in the head. 

[an-idyllic-novelist]

Hi, I’m the one who asked for a fluff request yesterday. And, you told me to request on this blog.

would it be possible to request for a fluff ares x reader where he has a massive crush on the reader but he’s too shy to admit it bcs she’s just so perfect and she’s sought after by many gods. Lucky for him, she has a crush on him as well?

And once again, I apologize if it’s too much to ask :)

Hi! I did make a couple of changes to the scenario, but I hope you will like this rendition of Ares with a haganzeuka!fem!reader :)

Special thanks to @radioactivesweet for bouncing off ideas to me and @yellow-snark for being honest with their feedback!

Ares adored Aphrodite. From the moment he set his gaze upon her that fateful day in Mount Olympus, they were fated to be together. Love and War, forever entwined even when their tumultuous relationship had been fractured over and over for centuries, finding comfort in the arms of others. But now…well, Ares was tired. He had long since grown weary of the goddess’ vanity and manipulations, especially the former.

Why would she still get into an argument with Athena, Freya, or any other goddess on who is the most beautiful being in the universe, he had no idea. Had his opinion not been enough? He wooed her with gifts, sang praises of her loveliness and dedicated any victories in his battles to her.  And yet it still wasn’t enough for her, who wanted the entire world, nay, the universe to kneel at her feet. 

Henceforth, he and Aphrodite were no longer romantically involved. Strangely enough, instead of isolating himself from the Greek pantheon to lament the loss of Aphrodite’s affection, his sorrow was soon forgotten when his armorer [First Name] arrived at the steps of his temple, asking if she may enter. She was here to deliver his spear and the new custom-made gauntlets that Ares ordered to replace his old ones. 

As an apprentice who worked in Hephaestus’ workshop, [First Name] was allowed to have the other gods as clients but never to aid him in his projects without explicit permission. Even after all of these centuries, Aphrodite’s husband is still a picky artist. 

The war god immediately allowed her to come inside, instructing his guest to leave her offering of plum wine in front of his statue before following him inside further into the temple. The wind chimes attached to her wide brimmed hat created a pleasant ‘ching’ sound as she walked down the marble hallway in her sandaled feet. It made [First Name] less…intimidating. 

Her fashion sense wasn’t horrid per se, though she did appear intimidating with the lower half of her face concealed by a bronze mask shaped in the muzzle of a Chinese guardian dog. Her [Hair Color] tresses were either pulled back and tucked under a black handkerchief or let loose because she had been too focused on her craft that she forgot to take care of herself again. 

Although Ares had expected the armorer to immediately leave once he was satisfied with his equipment, she stayed with him for a bit longer. She did not talk much; she was more of a listener, and she listened to him talk about Aphrodite, then rant about other things until he saw Apollo’s chariot ride across the blue hazy skies. He apologized profusely for taking up her time, but [First Name] brushed it off with a small smile and said to contact her again if he needed anything else done for him or his men before exiting the temple. 

It was after the armorer left that Ares noticed a cluster of pretty stones sitting right next to the offering. He didn’t know why or how…but the war god supposed that was when he began falling for her. 

Like everyone else in Olympus.

But this time, he had an advantage over his competition. Ares knew what she liked and disliked, even what day of the week when Hephaestus' workshop was not too busy to drop in for a surprise visit...only to discover that his sweet little armorer had an incredibly short temper as he did.

“HOW DARE YOU LOSE YOUR SWORD, YOU FOOL?! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW LONG IT TOOK ME TO LOOK FOR THE CAVE THAT POSSESS AN EXTREMELY DURABLE ORE, WHICH MIGHT PREVENT YOUR SWORD FROM BREAKING AFTER WHAT HAPPENED LAST TIME?!  FOUR MONTHS OF SEARCHING, GONE TO WASTE! THAT’S IT! DIE! DIE TEN THOUSAND TIMES AND REFLECT ON YOUR ACTIONS!!” [First Name] roared, [Eye Color] orbs glowing in fury as she chased after the terrified client around the workshop with a cleaving knife, ignoring everything and everyone else around her. 

Including him.

Ares sighed softly, glancing down at the bouquet and the bag of sweets he was carrying. Perhaps he should have gotten mitarashi dango instead of cupcakes? She loved sweets, but which one would calm her down long enough for him to profess his desire to court her?