#hopefully i can bring this blog back from the dead

[bloogers-boogers]

Forbidden Power AU. This AU focuses on Michael, it's the end of all Creation, all thanks to Lucifer's Spawn. Michael's final attempt to fix everything is to Disturb their father Only To Discover that his father is dead and has been dead for what looks like years there is still hope his father may be dead but his Authority can still be used... All angels authorities are held in Halos and God is no exception... Michael has a halo So he can go back and fix everything... The issue is the darkness in his heart, his Desire for the First man... Originally he was going to leave Almost everything unchanged...but this is an Opportunity he never did get or never should have had...can he stay on the noble path...ya No Michael has bin the good boy all his Existence and he will continue to be the good boy But he will be so when it comes to Adam and make Adam Exactly how he wants him to be

Hopefully this ask is for me and not mistaken for another blog shsiwbdjiwe do not get me wrong I love the guitarhero ship but I haven't posted anything about them aside from the drawing I made for @/ironbatpaperturtle (and my adamsapple fic) so I have a feeling that maybe this ask wasn't for me 😭

I should tho... like write more of them cause ngl I really like them together but my whole view on those two is far different than @/ironbatpaperturtle's Michael and Adam ahdjendiw

BUT if this anon is for me then I appreciate you for sharing me your au whdjwkdjdwoek 💖 now, with all that said let me proceed on actually answering you.

Omygod. Okay first, I think the God being dead for the longest period is such an interesting concept I read something similar like this before in a fic (adamsapple) called 'the devil you know /by anglotron' so I like it, kinda explains why angels would be put in so much work (do drastic choices) if God isn't there to guide them and solve things for them or just get involved but I also love the concept of him not giving a f*ck shjsiahdwiwbs after Lucifer's fall/betrayal he was just left hopeless for anything; his most "perfect creation" (Adam) corrupted by evil and then his most "perfect angel" turned out to have been the one to bring said corruption. (he may still care for Michael and Jesus tho but like it's hard for him to care about the rest) and letting all his children figure it out themselves (poor Sera), like, I can picture him just as depressed like Lucifer in the show issisofksos but unlike him who copes with making ducks, God just lays in the couch mopping about how disappointed in humanity he is and how "perfect" everything was before he planted the damn apple on earth, while he bosses Michael and maybe Metatron too (tho with him he's a lot more harsher bc he was previously human and he's kinda just bitter about them in general, but he's proven his worth enough) around to bring him shit like ice cream or junk food (tho he could easily just summoned all those things he subconsciously just wants company and Michael is there to bring it to him the only angel that has not yet disappointed/maintain loyal to him). So yeah.

Anyways — I still like the concept of God actually being dead. Like when you say Michael has a halo do you meant like he holds on to God's halo? Cause that's kinda cool af, imagine him just holding on to the halo of God (maybe even pitifully hopeful their father would return 'saving it for him') so he just has the halo on him and everyone just "oh shit this motherfucker really could just end it all if he wanted to" but Michael just doesn't cause 'with great power holds big responsibility' type of mentality and I think it'd be funny if Lucifer confronts heaven and is in a determined search for Michael to provoke him and remind him he's still the most perfect of all God's creation (mosty just salty as hell bc Michael cast him to hell lmao) and then when he finds Michael he like comes up with a taunting comment about how bad heaven turned out to be Yada Yada that neither realm is perfect or better than the other, and BAM suddenly his eyes drifted to Michael's head and recognizes the halo.

"Is that—...!"

"Yeah," Michael simply states defeated in his chair, unfazed by his brother arrival, from all the chaos going on, his people being murder, just, done, "father's gone, Lucifer."

So they just stare at eochother in silence, Lucifer with a stunned almost hurt expression and Michael with a nonchalant one. After the realization hitting him like a truck Lucifer realizes there was no end to the chaos released to all realms after Charlie unintentionally brought it to them if God wasn't there to fix it all...

Fear overwhelming him now cause he was kinda chilled out about the whole thing knowingly God would have to intervene soon because heaven was also being attacked by evil- but now realizing he's dead, it like hits him hard, mostly worried for his daughter's fate more than anything else.

Then, another thing hits him, "wait! What aren't you doing anything?! You can fix this, Michael! You have father's power, we can-"

Michael lifts his hand to signal him to stop, "I'm not planning to do anything."

"WHAT?!! Do you realize your people are also being attacked!"

"Your daughter brought this among ourselves, now, she must find her way to solve it."

"But she won't be-"

"Silence. If she was able to bring it to us then she's more than capable of putting it back. If not, that's no longer my problem"

"YOU-!"

"No, Lucifer," he stands up, the power of God emitting through his aura, the millions of eyes on him, big six graceful wings extended to show their full on glory, eyes bright like the intensity of a star. His voice was much more deeper and cold, distant, detached, "I lost everything because of your silly dream of free will, and now redemption. Look at where it lead us, prove me wrong this time, if it doesn't succeed then it was meant to be that way. Accept your fate.

I would create something new, something different. Something that won't betray its kind. No longer you existing. It will be perfect."

Lucifer felt so tiny now. That was no longer the brother he once knew. Not the caring, gentle, protective fiercely warrior that he once was.

Only filled with rage, grief and pain.

Michael... is dead too.

But anyways with all that, somehow lets say both Charlie and Lucifer mange to remind Michael of his love for the countless souls left at his hands to care and protect. And I dunno maybe a song too ahdhdiqgsjahsia and what gets the cake is Michael seeing Adam alive, behind the two, who somewhat stumble across their intervention in a 'bad timing'.

"Hey bitch you forgot your tampon— oh shit! Wrong room," Adam (now sinner) appears at the door oblivious of the whole deal.

"Adam!" Charlie shouted annoyed as they were already, almost, having a heartfelt moment between her father and Michael.

Michael eyes watered, "ADAM!" He pushes past Charlie and Lucifer who are now just confused as fuck seeing how Michael (filled with new growing hope) crushes Adam in a big hug with all the intensity of his power and somehow it was till so gentle and careful that it didn't kill Adam.

And the first man just there struggling to get loose while also suffocating.

Idk I just like Michael still having to be the hero even in circumstances where he doesn't want to. So the universe just grants him a purpose for he to keep following up God's title for him. If he wasn't gonna do shit because he lost Adam? Then BAM! Sinner Adam is now a thing so keep your ass moving Michael!

Michael now wants to fix things up to keep Adam safe; his new purpose (reason) on protecting heaven, his people and the countless souls God left him in charge with.

[svsss-fanon-exposed]

I really appreciate your continued emphasis on people being free to enjoy canon and fanon as they want while providing accurate canon information! All the asks and PSAs you've shared on that recently reminded me of a fic where sj actually WAS innocent, even wrt abuse. They had to make an a/n how it was their spin deviant from canon so it'd be great if they could stop getting nasty messages pls. I just think we should all foster a nicer fandom environment, so I love what you're doing~!

Yeah, I personally might be a book-canon purist, but I can certainly recognize that not everyone feels the same way-- and at the end of the day, it is fiction, what people want to do with canon and fanon is up to them and really has little to do with them as a person. I hold authorial intent in really high regard, but no need to bully those who don't, and who want to rearrange things.

Of course, for something like you mention, I would advise using some kind of tag to indicate that it's off-script. Especially since SJ's abuse of LBH is an integral part of the story the novel is telling, changing things like that changes the entire tone of things.

If a fic where the characters are intentionally OOC gets popular, then people will inevitably start going to that fic's portrayal and mixing that up with canon details (this is, probably, why there is so much apologism and denial of SJ's canonical abuse of LBH in this fandom, though it certainly wouldn't be the specific fic you're referencing alone and is probably a combination of many different factors). I personally don't like portrayals like this, but if a writer is changing it for their story, then who am I to judge or harrass them over it? The only issue comes when it spills over into the wider fandom perception, and you have people swearing left and right that SJ had nothing to do with the fake manual (he did) or didn't actually mean to abuse LBH or want him dead (he also did, and this can't just be contriubted to unreliable narrator since it comes from his own perspective in the extras). So I think an a/n at the beginning is a good idea in situations like these. If writers don't want to spoil things, just simply tag that the character is OOC compared to canon-- no need to go into specifics, and readers will know going in that the portrayal isn't meant to be a take on canon or aligning with it.

No one knows how popular their fic will become, after all, and if it gets into the wider fandom space without proper context, things like "Shen Jiu was just treating LBH normally for the time period, he wasn't abusive, LBH was just a self-obsessed person trying to demonize him" become mainstream, widely held beliefs.

Of course, this is what my blog is for, hopefully rerouting some of those ideas, pointing back to the sources where the divergence happened, so that people can see that while they may enjoy this canon-divergent depiction, that they shouldn't bring it into canon-based analysis. I think sourcing fanon is very important for this reason-- better than just saying "you're wrong" is being able to say "this is where the idea came from."

At the end of the day, a deliberately off-script, ooc portrayal should be tagged as such and AO3 provides those tags for a reason. There's nothing inherently wrong with writing characters OOC to change a story. People can write what they want! It's the writer's job to make relevant information known, and the reader's job to filter it out and just not read things they don't like. I'm so particular that I put down probably 80 percent of fics I read before I even get through the first few chapters. That's just me though! I'm a canon snob! Other people have no issues and that's fine.

As long as things aren't skewing into abuse apologism in regards to the canon-universe, there's literally no reason I can't just ignore things I don't like, and there's no reason other people can't do the same with things they don't like.

Anyway, don't harrass artists and writers in the fandom. If you feel it absolutely necessary to leave a comment in regards to an OOC character portrayal, don't be mean about it, just say something like "<Character Name> seems to be a bit OOC here, is this intentional?" but even then, it's really not necessary to come into someone else's space like that. Make your own posts, write your own fics.

There is no reason to assume malice when there are other explanations. This is hard with topics like abuse apologism, but people also need to remember that this is fiction. SJ was abusive in canon, but he's still not a real person, and if someone wants to write a version of him where he's not abusive, then that portrayal can easily be treated as a version from an alternate universe where things were different. This is not the same as saying a person in real life isn't abusive, because in this case, it's not apologism-- it's literally a different universe where the rules of the original canon don't apply. In fictional and fandom spaces, it's a lot easier and better off to just give people the benefit of the doubt.

As long as you're not claiming that his canon behavior wasn't abusive (since that's about behaviors now, and not just a fictional story), it literally doesn't matter what people write in fanfic.

Authors, tag your fics with everything you'd like your readers to be aware of, because when a reader opens up a fic they're probably expecting the characters to follow canon unless stated otherwise.

Readers, read the portrayals and stories you like. Don't read the ones you don't. If something isn't tagged correctly, and you find out you don't like it after reading, just close the fic and stop reading.

No one should ever be harassing anyone else over fandom for any reason.

[heydaystay]

All the Warmth of the Sun

pairing: jake x reader

genre: fluff

wc: 1.9k

summary: a day at the beach with your boyfriend jake

a/n: i haven’t posted writing in so long, and never on this blog so here we goooo. hopefully you like it! feedback is always appreciated <3

~

You’re lying on a towel, basking in the heat and enjoying the sounds of the ocean, when you feel a shadow fall over you. You reluctantly crack open an eye, lifting your head slightly. “What?” You ask your boyfriend, Jake, who’s the reason your tan is going to be uneven if he doesn’t move soon.

Jake grins at you, totally unbothered by your blunt greeting. “When are you going to get in the water, babe?”

You sit up fully, shamelessly using Jake’s body to keep the sun from getting in your eyes as you look up at him. If he’s going to be blocking your sun, you might as well make the best of it. “I don’t know if I feel like swimming today.” You say, pointedly glancing over to the waterline where Jake’s friends are playing a game that seems to be an excuse to try to drown each other.

Jake watches them with a fond smile as Sunoo tackles Sunghoon with a distinctly murderous look in his eyes and they both go under the water. When he turns back to you, his smile has only widened. “I already told them you were off limits. We could walk down the beach a bit, maybe just get our feet wet?”

You’re only human. You melt after only seconds of having his bright smile directed solely at you. “Okay.” You hold your hand out and Jake grabs it to pull you to your feet and into his arms.

“You’re very warm.” Jake sighs as he shamelessly nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck.

You huff out a laugh, “And you’re very wet.” You bring one of your hands up to fluff his dripping hair.

“I don’t have to be the only one who’s wet.” Jake presses a kiss to the side of your neck.

You roll your eyes, but don’t push him away. “Don’t ruin it.”

Jake pulls back with wide eyes. “I was talking about the water,” he says, sounding far too innocent to be believable. “What are you talking about?”

“Shut up.” You laugh at his antics.

Jake is quick to laugh with you. “But maybe later tonight-“

You turn and walk towards the water without waiting for him. He catches up a second later, his arm slinging around your shoulders to pull you close into his side. You sigh mournfully. “Romance is dead.”

Jake just hides his smile in your hair.

You’ve only managed to make it a few yards down the beach before you hear a particularly loud screech behind you. The two of you stop and look at each other. “Should we be concerned that a noise that high pitched just came out of Niki?” You ask, but don’t bother to turn back. You’ve spent enough time around them to recognize their individual screeches. When did this become your life?

“I’m sure he’s fine. It builds character.” Jake shrugs with a laugh.

“Poor kid.”

You and Jake continue on without another word, putting distance between you and your friends, aka the loudest group on the beach. Jay wouldn’t actually let anyone get murdered. Probably.

Jake had taken you on a diagonal path to the water, not even trying to be subtle about avoiding the guys, and it’s at this point that you finally reach the water. You sigh as the cool water rushes up to meet you, wiggling your toes in the wet sand. It’s been super hot out, and while you wouldn’t say that you were too hot before, the water is refreshing. When you look up, Jake is watching you with a fond expression. “What?” You ask him for the second time in only a few minutes, but this time your voice is soft.

“You’re cute.” Jake replies simply.

You feel your cheeks flush. Not even the full power of the Australian summer sun can make you as red as your boyfriend dropping a genuine compliment out of nowhere. “You too.” You return his compliment and are rewarded with him swooping in to peck you quickly on your warm cheek.

After that, Jake mercifully resumes your stroll down the water’s edge with nothing more than a smug smile.

It doesn’t take you long to figure out what he’s doing, but you decide to let him get away with it a little longer, playing dumb as he steers you slightly further into the water every few steps until you’re up to your thighs. “I know what you’re doing.” You finally have to say something when he gives up on the pretense and just pulls you in up to your waist.

He doesn’t miss a beat. “But you’re still letting me.”

You cup his chin and squish his smiling cheeks lightly. “You can get away with a lot with a face this cute.” You shake your head in mock disbelief.

Jake nods. “You would know.” Before you can heckle him for such a cheesy line, he continues. “Now you're in the water though, wanna go for a float?”

Your first instinct is to say yes, and you're about to when you remember something. “I don’t wanna get my hair wet.” You gesture vaguely to your loose hair and then shake your bare wrist at him to show the lack of hair tie.

“Oh!” Jake says, excitedly holding his own wrist up for you to see. “I grabbed this on my way out of the house this morning. You left a couple on the bathroom counter, thought you might want it later.” Jake laughs as your eyes laser focus on the black hair tie, grabbing his hand to take the tie off him. “So? Float?”

“Have I told you recently that you’re the greenest green flag ever? I would fight the world to get to keep you.” You declare solemnly as you tie your hair up to your satisfaction.

“Yes, you pledge to fend off potential suitors at the drop of a hat more frequently than you might think.” Jake chuckles fondly. “C’mon, then.” He takes your hand and pulls you out further, then turns away from you and crouches slightly in a practiced motion once you’ve gone far enough. You’ve done this hundreds of times after all. “On you go.”

He doesn’t need to tell you twice. You wrap your arms around his neck, reminiscent of the way you would if he was giving you a piggyback ride, and rest your cheek on his shoulder, facing out toward the horizon. “Ready.”

Jake resumes his full height and your feet leave the bottom as he does. One of Jake’s hands comes up to lightly circle your crossed wrists and he starts moving, walking through the water with you floating along behind him. “My little barnacle.”

You hum and let your eyes fall closed, enjoying the sensation just as much as you had the first time he’d dragged you through the water like this when you were still in high school. It was at a much more frantic pace that first time, but you’d loved it so much that he’d done it whenever you’d asked for the rest of summer. It got a little slower and more relaxed every time, and eventually you didn’t have to ask anymore. He’d offer before you could even open your mouth; he just seemed to know. “Don’t you forget it.” It might not seem like the cutest nickname, and he certainly had sweeter sounding ones for you, but it remains one of your favorites nonetheless. How could it not be, with all the sweet memories attached to it?

He lets you float along for a while in silence before he starts humming softly, a tune you recognize as something he’d said he and the boys were starting to put together. Early days of course, but as you listen to him hum the last notes, you know it's going to be a beautiful song. You prop your chin on his shoulder. “That was lovely.” You’re just able to catch the edge of his smile from this angle.

Without needing to be told, Jake starts moving towards the shore, stopping when your feet are able to touch the ground again. You let go of him only for him to turn and encircle you in his arms instead. “It’s coming along well. I should be able to sneak you a listen to the demo track soon.”

You’re all too familiar with the mischievous look on his face. “Don’t get yourself in trouble.”

“Never.” Something over your shoulder catches Jake’s eye. “Looks like the guys are leaving the water to head for food. Should we join?”

“Sure.” You gladly take his hand when he offers it, and the two of you start to make your way towards the section of beach you’d claimed when you’d first come out hours before. You let your free hand trail through the water, and as you watch the water slide through your fingers, something pink grabs your attention from the ocean floor. “That’s pretty.” You say a bit absently, pointing out what you’re pretty sure is a shell to Jake.

Before you can even blink, he’s dropped your hand to duck under the water without hesitation. He pops up only a few seconds later, his hand held up to present you with the pretty pink shell. Jake pushes his hair out of his face and smiles. “Here you go, love.” He’s got water streaming down his face and sparkles in his eyes.

You love him so much.

It’s hard to stand on your tiptoes on sand in the ocean, but you do your best. You place one hand on his shoulder for a bit of extra balance and hook the other one around the back of Jake’s neck to pull him down the rest of the way to meet you in a kiss.

Jake wraps his arm around your waist to steady you, pulling you closer to him as he kisses you sweetly enough to make you feel like your knees are going weak.

When you pull away, it’s only to rest your forehead against his. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Jake returns, stroking your cheek softly.

As you look into his sparkling eyes, you breath out and decide to just say fuck it. “How hungry are you?”

Jake moves away to see you better, looking a bit confused by your question. “Not terribly?”

“How confident were you earlier when you said you could make me wet?” You ask bluntly.

Jake’s eyes widen. “Very.” He swallows after he replies, and you watch the bob of his Adam's apple.

You snap out of it, looking back up to him with a decisive nod. “Good.” You take the shell from him and then grab his hand, pulling him out of the water and towards the beach house you’d all rented out.

“I guess romance isn’t dead after all.” Jake laughs as he lets you tug him along.

“No, it's very much alive.” You agree as you walk past the guys, ignoring their questions and then their laughter after Jake replies by just wiggling his eyebrows at them. You call over your shoulder to the guys without looking back. “Don’t come back for a few hours.”

Several replies come simultaneously.

“Use protection!”

“Gross.”

“There’s a child present!”

“Fuck you, Jungwon.”

You and Jake snicker at the sound of Niki’s and Jungwon’s arguing fading out behind you.

“So,” Jake bumps his shoulder against yours. “Hours, hmm?”

“What?” You look up at him innocently through your eyelashes. “Losing confidence?” The spark of a challenge you see in Jake’s eyes sends a thrill through you.

“Not in the slightest.” Jake promises, tightening his grip on your hand and starting to walk faster.

“Glad to hear it.” Your reply comes out slightly breathless.

Jake flashes you a smirk over his shoulder as he unlocks the door to the beach house.

Whatever it is you’ve gotten yourself into, you can’t wait to start.

[invertedfate]

Not trying to be rude, just curious: when will the next video come out?

We'll announce when we have a date! Please keep in mind that video production takes a lot of time and we don't want to release more chapters until we have at least Rift 7 - 9 complete. I understand that people are anxious for a new chapter since it's been a few months, but I've also just been unmotivated and needed some time to just do other things. This doesn't mean IF is dead, but it's been eight years, and to be honest, the older I get, the more exhausted I get from some of the fandom climate (especially on Twitter). Obviously, a big fandom like UT is always gonna be heated and loud because the larger a fanbase, the more people, and the more people, the more chance there is for people to be loud. But I'm tired of people trying to treat my opinions as gospel, or people who try to use Inverted Fate as a way to shit on other creators. I know that in the past, I had been really vocal and picky about other fanworks, but looking back, I feel nothing but regret about that. But everyone who goes "Inverted Fate is the only good AU" and uses it to shit on people who like even AUs I don't like need to stop. I also don't like when people try to get me to speak out on the latest fandom drama or get my "hot takes" about AUs/fanworks I dislike. I get that I used to be more involved in that- I've picked fights I never should've, gotten too defensive without hearing people out. That's why these days I try to just focus on creating rather than getting so involved in the latest fandom tea. It's just that various factors have contributed to burnout, along with certain realizations about my own mental health/traumas that go way, way back and aren't really the kinda thing to discuss on an AU blog, haha. I want to be in the best mindset I can be so that when I do write the final chapters of IF, they're satisfying. I don't wanna halfass it, y'know? But I just have some stuff to sort out and I need to take a step back and focus on other things that bring me joy so that I can come back with a clearer head. The good news is, I have enough scripted that Liz and other members of the IF team have what they need for the most part. I'm just kinda in a place where it's harder for me to find the same joy. I need some cool down time. Creating something new and engaging with a new fandom is allowing me to get a little distance so I can come back refreshed later.

But please rest assured, I do plan to finish this story. There are so many things we're excited to share. Hopefully I can work through this funk and make 2024 a good year for IF.

[catbountry]

Hi, I'm the one who made the Respawn of the Dead page on Fanlore. I'm sorry about the misinformation about you being an admin and it's fixed to be accurate now to say you were just a mod.

And I'm sorry about not disclosing that you've since distanced yourself from that site. Thats now in there too. I respect you as a fic writer both for your fic (loved the TF2 Harlan Ellison and Steven King-inspired ones) and because it's impressive that you've kept your username for so long. I think that literally everyone who's been online long enough can theoretically be "canceled" on the Internet if everything they've ever done was connected to only one pseud, including myself. Fandom's honestly a minefield that doesn't take to cultural changes at all. The culture of, say, 4chan, Tf2chan, those things, it's so different compared to today. Same with Kiwifarms when it was just known for being the CWCwiki. One day, the culture of social media will be just like those, and I think being able to own up to who you were then to compare with how you are now, as a better person, is a respectable skill to have.

I don't know everything you've done, (I know some of the Vade thing and some of what's on the receipt blog,) but it seems some Fannish people just see "Kiwifarms" and think you're supporting the site as it is currently, which wasn't what it was back in the 2010s. I tried to be very neutral since I figured TF2 Tumblr/Twitter would find my article first, but now it's more positive on you and your body of work on there. I'm sorry that the article brought up old wounds, hopefully all misinfo on it is fixed now.

Wow, I actually wasn't sure if I'd get a response. Thank you for being so considerate, for enjoying my fic, and being so understanding. I used the same pseud for years because, well, I'm proud of Respawn of the Dead, warts and all. I don't want to distance myself from it and I'm okay with it being my legacy. Also I'm just absolutely lousy at hiding myself. If I changed my name, people would figure out it's me, so I don't really bother.

If you don't mind, just for the sake of fandom oral history, I'd like to expand upon the period of Medic being a Nazi in fandom. This might be interesting to you as somebody interested in TF2 fandom lore.

Medic being a Nazi was assumed by a lot of fans, due to him fitting a bunch of "Nazi mad scientist" tropes. This remained the case until fans went to Valve's headquarters and straight up asked an employee if he was, to which they were told "no." And then people stopped writing Nazi Medic (for the most part) because it wasn't canon. People still made art but again, we did not know the horrors that the future had in store for us.

It really is wild to think how drastically things have shifted politically online since the late 2000's, when nobody could have predicted that being a Nazi would be anything but the most fringe of fringe, and these people would be regarded as internet sideshows to be gawked at and trolled. Also, Respawn of the Dead was written around the time Inglorious Basterds came out, so there were a lot of sexy Nazis or repentant Nazis in certain fandoms at the time.

There was a TF2 fic, I believe it was called Do No Harm, that legit had Medic working in a concentration camp in a position where he felt like he had to work there or he'd be shot, and he ate human flesh given to him by an evil, Aryan Nazi OC. I don't know if the author distanced herself from the work, because she did re-work it to make it into an original novel that she sold on Amazon. I absolutely could not see anything written like this now that wasn't some kind of dogwhistle, but the author was pretty progressive, actually. So much so we had a fight while I was in my anti-SJW phase and she did not appreciate me bringing up the things she wrote about that emphasized the humanity of a Nazi character, who in all fairness, did deflect in her story. I'm sure she's probably put a lot more distance between herself and that story in the years since, given the way things have gone since Trump's presidency. I wouldn't know, though, since we don't talk, and haven't in nearly a decade.

The person who wrote that is probably forgotten by anybody who wasn't in the fandom at the time, even though she was known for this fic and it was praised almost universally when it was being updated. But she was not the only one doing this. I cannot emphasize enough just how far in the past Nazis felt to us. At the time, being a Nazi was a stupid way of thinking that would never come back outside of attention-hungry edgelords co-opting its imagery, especially in America, an allied nation that loves using Nazis as villains in its media. If you told any of us in 2009 that fascism and white nationalism would make a comeback in America, we would not have believed you unless you were counting neoconservatives and evangelical white Christians as Nazis, and while I think a lot of those people are now pretty much that nowadays, back then it would have been a little bit of a stretch. But the thing is, the white supremacy on an institutional level was always there. We didn't really notice it until it started being pointing out, and at the same time, a bunch of fuckin' white nationalists and neo-Nazis just started popping up all over the place because someone with blue hair and pronouns told them a video game character having her titties out was bad or something. I'm still not entirely sure how that escalated that quickly, but Jesus Christ. It's a shame "clown world" got used mostly by right-wing people online because the label feels pretty apt and also applies to them a lot more. There is something deeply pathetic but also kind of hilarious about filming yourself letting a gas stove burn, or shooting cases of beer to own the libs.

I think most people that used TF2chan are pretty progressive now, a lot of them have come out as some flavor of queer, and the use of "-fag" as a suffix is frowned upon in the official TF2chan Discord server as being incredibly childish and cringey. We were all young adults but clearly we had a lot of growing up to do. I think it is important to point out that a lot of this edgelord shit done at the time, while hurtful and not cool, was done by a lot of people who hadn't figured out who they were yet, and weren't really bad people. Dr. Tanner, who was actually the first person to write a TF2 longfic and beat Respawn of the Dead by at least a few months with the first version of The Lessons (which is gone now), got cited by name in an interview with an old TF2chan user for being really racist, sexist, homophobic and transphobic, only to completely turn around once he came out as trans. I think a lot of this behavior kind of functioned as a shield, because there was still a separation between the internet and real life. Now, there's more people on the internet with less websites people visit, and fandom spaces where everyone is an adult are harder to find. Everything is very politically charged now. The right-wing is further to the right than it was even when I was a teenager and a young adult during Bush's presidency, which given that we got into two forever wars under his administration, is insane to think about. It doesn't feel real, but it is.

So yeah, that's why nobody writes or draws Medic as a Nazi anymore, and that's a good thing. Sorry for the tl;dr.

If you have any questions about old TF2chan and TF2 fandom, I'd be happy to answer them.

[archandshri]

23rd May ‘24 - [arch] Witch Hat Atelier Takeover Episode

Greetings! I am back from the dead! I have had a fair few weeks of rest and admin and now I have lots of art thoughts! (lets see if I can get some down)

OMG Shri I am in LOVE with your last few posts!!! Have you considered not hitting it out of the park every time?? I have thoughts about the mind’s eye thing and picturing your work… maybe at some point I’ll write a blog about it :0

I’m working on a super cool comic for some people I can’t yet talk about but I’m going through a HUGE research process for it. It’s awesome, it feels like I’m back at uni. Learning so many skills and documenting my research properly in my slides again 💪💪

Though I can’t talk about the project itself, I would love to share a bit of analysis I’ve been doing on Witch Hat Atelier!! (Heads up - the following post contains spoilers for the first half of the first volume)

Expressions!!!

Though not unique to Witch Hat Atelier (WHA from now on), the manga uses a combination of subtler, realistic illustrations combined with goofy exaggerated ones - in particular using styles found commonly in manga.

The first few pages have quite minimal facial expressions - they’re still obvious (and to a degree, exaggerated in Coco's case) but not goofy. Shirahama uses additional techniques like text and sparkles on the right hand page to communicate Coco's excitement.

Traditional manga expressions, with more exaggerated and goofy features, are saved for comedic moments - in this instance from Coco’s childlike excitement.

Here we have quite realistic expressions, exaggerated by a combination of shadow (right-hand page) and tight close-ups. This. brings us into Coco's wonder, and communicates her high level of engagement.

In fact, the goofy expressions are almost exclusively saved for smaller panels, whilst more high drama or wonder moments take up larger panels and whole pages, so there's space for that high level of detail.

In this spread, expressions are playing a more minor role until the last two panels. In the panel circled in red, Coco’s expression is distressed. Because it’s a smaller panel, mid shot panel, her expression is emphasized by more cartoonish techniques (eg. The lines down her face.)

The last two panels return to slightly more realistic expressions, without the more cartoonish aids. This makes the moment feel more dire. Shirahama emphasises this once again by using close-ups and darkness surrounding them for the appropriate ambience.

Shirahama uses a high level of detail to capture moments of high wonder. They force the reader to take in the extent of the image. These are usually paired with minimal text which also requests that the reader takes time to absorb the image, rather than skimming over text.

Panel Pacing and Flow :0

For the ‘day to day’ ordinary scenes, pretty straightforward paneling is used. On a grid, straight lines, very little overlapping.

This is broken in moments, like introducing Qifrey. A three-quarter image of him breaks the panel structure to say ‘hey, this guy is important’.

Overlapping panels are first introduced in this moment - which is huge for Coco, as she realises how magic is used. The change in format once again tells the reader that this is important by adding more visual interest. The images sit like a bunch of disjointed puzzle pieces, like she’s about to put something together.

On the second page of the spread, the format returns to (mostly) normal as everything slots into place.

What can I say... line of action!!! Look at those gorgeous textures that lead the composition into that curve. That's all from me today folks, hope you enjoyed reading through! I've got a bit more stability in my life now, so hopefully I'll be more consistent with my uploads. (no promises I'm taking it easy) lots of love! :D Archie

[nancypullen]

Not Dead Yet

It's me, the lady who used to spread nonsense far and wide courtesy of this blog. I can't express how much I miss emptying my brain into this space. I drag home after nine hours in the book mines and it's all I can do to eat, soak in a hot bath, and go to bed. I'm sorry to the handful of readers that I have left. Don't give up on me, this isn't forever. The reason that I'm here tonight is because this handsome guy just had a birthday.

He was born sixty-eight years ago in Washington D.C. when the cherry blossoms were in full bloom. His father used to tell the story of walking around and around under those cherry blossoms waiting for news that his firstborn had arrived. That was back in the stone age when fathers weren't allowed in the delivery room. Although his birthday was earlier in the week, we'll be celebrating him tomorrow when the Edgewater gang arrives. I have to work until 2 o'clock but they can't start without me because I know where the presents are. He requested red velvet cake so that's what he shall have, and there will be gourmet pizzas (Jamie's recipes, Tyler manning the pizza oven - what a team!). Hopefully Mickey will feel the love and understand how happy we are that he was born. Of all the choices I've made in my life, he might be the very best one. While looking for an old photo of us to add to this post I came across this one. This was a few days before our wedding in 1984, at my parents' home in Florida. We were opening wedding gifts and apparently very excited about some flatware.

But I have questions. Why are we dressed alike? More importantly why are we dressed like WHAM?

Weren't they the guys who popularized wearing t-shirts under vests? I think Hall and Oates did it too. Regardless, you can bet that Mickey and Nancy were on the cutting edge of fashion, and out on the dance floor every chance we got. In hindsight, we look ridiculous. But the point of this ramble is, we looked ridiculous together. That's how we've gone through life since 1982. Now he's sixty-eight and I'm sixty and we still enjoy looking ridiculous together. Again, I'm awfully glad he was born. As the song says, he puts the boom-boom into my heart. Moving on. I'll work Saturday, I'm off Sunday, then I work three more days. On Thursday our plan is to drive up to Lancaster, Pennsylvania and spend a couple of days. It's just about two hours from us and we'd like to explore the area. I was excited until I saw the forecast for rain, rain, and more rain. I'm not sure how much exploring we can do in a downpour. Crossing my fingers that the forecast will change. We may need to change our plans if it doesn't. I'm off to bed, busy weekend ahead - work and an energetic six year old who was recently visited by the tooth fairy, twice. She lost her first tooth on Easter, and another at school on Wednesday! I can't wait to hear all about it. Is there anything cuter than a snaggle-toothed kid? Alright, sweet people, I'll sign off and go read until I fall asleep. I'm reading about shipwrecks (kind of like my life since we moved to Maryland, but you know I'll sing in the lifeboat). I hope that spring is making your heart light. I hope that whatever troubles you is small compared to what brings you joy. And, as always, I hope that you are safe and well. Sending out loads of love tonight. Take some and pass it on. XOXO, Nancy

[littlewinter1917]

The Familiar

Part One - The Familiar and the Unfamiliar

Series Masterlist

Words: 10.6k

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Witch!Reader

Summary: You live in a little cottage in the depths of the woods, where you can practice your witchy ways to your heart’s delight. Things are peaceful and quiet, until your familiar decides to bring home a stray man she’s found in the forest. He’s hurt, scared, and in dire need of help. So, at her insistence, you take him in begrudgingly. But things get complicated when the ghosts of the past come back to haunt you both, and tensions and feelings keep rising as an unexpected bond between you and Eddie grows ever closer and tighter.

Or: Your cat and familiar tries her paws at playing matchmaker and actually succeeds by picking out the most pathetic guy (affectionate), she could find in the woods.

Warnings: A lot of hurt/comfort and fluff! Minor mentions of injuries and being sick, but nothing explicit. Talks about nightmares, past deaths, trauma and multiple witch hunts. Swearing, witchcraft and a talking pet/monster. Some tensions, mutual pinning, secret longing and major slow burn. There’s a small fight and a little bit of angst (with a happy ending though!) Mentions of guilt & grief - but above all healing! It’s implied that the reader isn’t quite human, and that they lost all of their family in a tragic way. This Story does contain spoilers for Season 4.

A/N: I Got the idea for this story after listening to Familiar by Agnes Obel, and Widowspeak’s cover of Wicked Game.

The story is also written with a gender neutral reader in mind, so that anyone who wants to can hopefully enjoy this little story! 🎃

Read the story on AO3 here.

My blog is 18+ only. Minors DNI 🔞 Don't reposed my work anywhere.

Eddie cannot believe his eyes. 

He must be hallucinating, he thinks.

Maybe it’s the lack of sleep, or the fact that the consistent cold creeping into his bones is making him feel slightly out of it.

Either way, he has to do a double take when he sees a small, black cat peeking through a line of trees, before strutting right towards him. 

The discovery wouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary in the small town of Hawkins, but he’s currently somewhere in the deep, dark parts of the local woods instead.

And he hasn’t witnessed a single sign of life for a while now - apart from a few fleeting birds and the occasional rustle of branches, indicating some startled rodent that’s scared off by his arrival.

And Eddie can’t blame them; not when he looks like he’s been through hell and back.

Feels like it too, if he’s honest, and in some way he kind of has.

He couldn’t have predicted that Jason and his gang would catch up to his hide-out that quickly. 

Couldn’t have predicted that he would be running and stumbling through the woods for a couple of hours at the very least; if the golden rays of the afternoon sun are anything to go by. 

He’s most definitely lost and slightly hurt, but that’s still significantly better than being dead or locked into prison for a crime he didn’t even commit. 

But alas, he has to make do with what he’s got, which is admittedly, very little. 

It’s been raining non-stop for the better half of the day, and he’s soaked through to the bone. His left foot has also been a pain in the ass ever since he slipped and twisted his ankle earlier; and the last proper meal he had – if two handful of cereal even count as such – was in the waking hours of this morning, because he couldn’t sleep, again. 

Go figure. 

That was hours before he noticed a foreign car approaching. 

Jason’s car, to be exact. 

And from there on out he’s been on the run ever since, only starting to slow down a little while ago, because his foot is really not having it, and he’s been feeling so dizzy lately, that parts of the forest start swaying right in front of his eyes every now and then, but always with an increasing intensity. 

So, when a regular black housecat starts to suddenly appear in front of him, it’s only natural for Eddie to think that he might be seriously losing it for good now.

Why his mind would conjure up a black cat out of all things, though, is not something he has an answer to either.

It’s only when the cat starts walking little loops around his feet, occasionally bumping it’s head softly against his leg, that Eddie gets pulled out of his racing thoughts. Because this cat, to his surprise, seems very much real.

At least, he thinks it is if his sensory experiences are still somewhat reliable. 

He finds himself crouching down slightly, holding out his hand carefully in an attempt not to scare the small animal off. Surprisingly, the cat lets itself be pet, purring lightly and bumping its head against his hand in a playful manner, whenever he pauses his movement for a moment. 

“Where did you come from, buddy?” Eddie whispers, still trying to figure out why a black housecat cat would show up in the middle of a forest. 

“Please don’t tell me you’re part of the local police force,” he mumbles after a small pause, and for a split second he thinks that the cat almost looks a little offended at his joke, before it’s bumbling his hand again, the small body almost vibrating with a deep purr. 

“Are you lost too, little friend?” He inquires, his touch still gentle, and an understanding smile on his lips.

You and me both, buddy, he thinks.

With the cat almost in his lap, he’s able to get a better look at it too. The cat seems to be female, if Eddie isn’t completely mistaken, and she’s blessed with piercing green eyes. 

She’s been nibbling softly on one of his fingers, as he continues to pet her, when suddenly, out of nowhere, she decides to jumps up, seemingly running off, before stopping a few feet away from him. 

“Where are you going, kitty?” Eddie inquires, surprise etched on his features, and, as much as he hates to admit it, his heart sinks a little at the idea of being all alone again, too. 

But instead of vanishing into the sheer endless line of trees, the cat stays where she’s standing, looking back at Eddie expectantly and letting out an impatient meow. 

It's almost as if the cat is waiting for him to follow her lead, Eddie thinks, before shaking his head. He really is losing it now. 

Still, he finds himself walking up to the animal slowly. But as soon as he’s almost by her side, the cat is rushing a few steps forward again, before looking back at him once more, waiting for him to catch up, before the same thing repeats itself. 

Again. 

And again. 

And again, again. 

Eddie himself cannot quite explain why he feels the urge to follow the cat, despite having no idea where she’s going, or what exactly is going on.

This could be the start of a horror movie, for all he knows. 

Except he’s already kind of trapped in a real-life horror movie anyway, so how much worse can it get, really?

Eddie doesn’t want to jinx it, but he’s pretty sure that his day cannot get any worse, because there’s hardly any room for growth on the ‘this day was really shit’ scale.

He’s not sure how long he’s been following the cat, but he’s exhausted either way.

It doesn’t help that his surroundings looks all the same to him. Just an endless sea of trees.

He could have been walking in circles and he didn’t know. 

Still wouldn’t. 

But he’s also convinced that he’s officially lost it, because he swears that the cat has been slowing down a little, trying to match her pace to his, and sometimes he even thinks she’s giving him an encouraging meow. 

He’s not sure how much longer he can wander around like that, though. 

When he tells the cat about his need for a break, the only answer he gets is another soft meow, before she’s tugging on one of his shoelaces lightly, trying to get him to move forward, and that’s that. 

The cat has decided that the journey continues, Eddie thinks with a subtle shake of his head.

Maybe this is all some kind of fever dream, and Eddie should probably brace himself for the unsuspected twist where it turns into a nightmare again, because all his dreams lately are; if he manages to fall asleep, that is. 

He thinks that maybe he should let the cat know that he knows now that none of this is real; it can’t be, not with the way the black feline shook her head earlier, when he asked it if this was a secret ploy to get him to turn into some cat food.

It’s like she actually understands him, but that’s impossible. 

Next thing he knows, she’ll start talking too. Eddie can’t help but laugh a little at that idea. 

Talking cats. 

Somehow, on a scale of disbelieving things concerning everything in the cursed town of Hawkins, that isn’t even the craziest thing he can think of. 

He’s about to tell the cat about it, when suddenly he sees it. 

It’s a big shape between a line of trees in the distance, and it takes him a second to realize what exactly he’s looking at, but once he does, he shakes his head with much more vigor. 

“No!” He states, determined while taking a few stumbling steps back. 

The cat just looks at him with questioning eyes, before tugging on his jeans softly, trying to get him to move towards the object again.

“Oh, absolutely not!”

Because the unusual shape in the woods is nothing but a small little cottage. 

And an abandoned shed would have been just fine with Eddie, but there’s warm light seeping through some of the windows, which means that somebody lives there. 

Either that, or it’s haunted by ghosts with an insatiable hunger for coziness even in death. 

He’s not sure what’s worse. 

The cat tugs on his jeans again, and this time Eddie decides to crouch down, hoping that an eye-to-eye conversation with her will erase any lingering misunderstandings.

“Listen, I cannot go there, okay? I appreciate you trying to help me, but you obviously don’t know who I am! The whole town is looking for me, and whoever lives inside this cottage might know about it too. They’ll just call the cops and then that’s it!”

The cat contemplates him for a second, head slightly tilted, before going back to tugging on his jeans once more.

And then, without another word, she’s quickly turning around, sprinting off into the direction of the cottage, and Eddie sighs. 

He can’t believe he’s even considering it, but he decides to get just a little bit closer to the house, so he can see who lives there, maybe. 

He’s surrounded by so many trees, that there are more than plenty of options to hide behind, and the slowly growing darkness of the impending night is also nothing but an added benefit for him.

He watches as the cat struts through the tiny garden, before jumping up the steps to the poach of the cottage. 

It’s a nice little house, he has to admit, as he peaks past the tree he’s leaning on, trying to get a better look without being seen. 

He’s not sure who exactly he expects to live in such a place, but when the door opens up and he sees the figure of a person stepping out, he truly thinks he’s lost his mind. 

You feel your familiar’s presence before she’s even on the steps of the poach. 

Weirdly enough, she’s been lingering around the house for a while now, you notice, but you don’t pay it too much mind, as you’re still occupied with the finishing touches for both your and your cat’s dinner.  

It’s a nice, fresh stew that’s been brewing for the better half of the day, and your familiar is right on time for it too. 

She usually is, though.

Noticing her presence approaching, you make your way towards the door with quick strides. 

You know she can get into the house just fine by herself, but you like to surprise her every now and then, too. Although she can also feel your presence lingering around, just like you can pick up on hers, so the sudden opening of the door shouldn’t really come as an unsuspected revelation.

“There you are, Reaper. You’re just on time for dinner, as always.” You greet your familiar, after opening the door with a playful curtsey. 

“Do come in, my beloved friend.”

Opening the door wider, you even add a small bow, the way you imagine a fancy butler would, but to your surprise your familiar just stays seated on her spot on the wooden boards of the poach. 

“Reaps, what’s the matter this time?” You ask when she glances back into the forest, as if she’s looking for someone, or waiting, maybe. 

And then you see it, and your heart drops down deep to the wooden floors. 

Eddie cannot believe his eyes – something that unfortunately seems like a rather regular occurrence these days. 

He tried imagining a few people, who might open the door of that little cottage and reveal themselves as the owner, but never in his wildest dreams did he think it would be someone looking like an angel.

You cannot be significantly older than he is, he guesses, but you still look ethereal, dressed in simple, white gown with sparkly gold detailing that catches the surrounding light in a captivating matter.

The warm glow behind you, that continues to spill out into the growing night of the forest, illuminates not just the poach, but your frame as well. 

You look like the drawing of a saint, or some other holly figure, and Eddie’s breath hitches in his throat. 

Yeah, he’s definitely dreaming.

You feel the presence a split second before you see it; it’s a shadow peeking through behind one of the nearby trees, and you look at your familiar with confusion and a tinge of disapproval. 

“Reaper, what’s this about?” You whisper, as you try to make out what the hell is hiding behind the tree. 

But your companion is barely giving you an answer before she’s jumping down the steps of the poach again, making her way down to the figure. 

You can’t even call out any warning words, as she’s already vanishing behind the tree, and you hear a hushed voice whisper exasperated, “Hey, no! You’re going to give my hiding-spot away, kitty.”

“Already happened.” You state, crossing your arms in front of your chest defensively as you step forward on the poach, making your way towards the figure.

“Who are you, and what are you doing in my parts of the forest?”

The tone of your voice is icy and accusatory, and Eddie feels himself shiver at the sound.

He comes out behind the tree with his hands held up in a docile gesture. 

“Uh, hi.” 

Eddie hopes that he doesn’t look quite as pathetic as he feels, but who is he kidding. 

He’s soaked like a poodle in a puddle, looks like one too, he supposes, and he can’t stop himself from shivering and trembling lightly. 

To top it all off, he’s growing increasingly unsteady on his feet. 

He doesn’t know where he is, doesn’t know where he should go, doesn’t know anything, really. And he’s pretty sure that makes him the very personification of pathetic right now. 

“You’re human?” You whisper, almost a bit shocked when you take in his quivering frame.

“Seriously, what is this?” You ask the cat, but all Eddie hears is a small meow as an answer. 

“Oh, absolutely not!” You answer her little quip, eyes hardening instantly.

He watches with furrowed brows as the conversation seemingly goes back and forth between you two. The cat meows and you bite something back just as quickly.

Great, Eddie thinks. You’re a whole other level of crazy, having full fletched discussions with your cat in front of a total stranger. 

What the hell is even happening anymore? 

“Reaper, I told you no!” You whisper yell, and Eddie’s eyes suddenly light up a bit at the revelation.

“Your cat’s name is Reaper?” He can’t help the hushed question from slipping out. “That’s pretty metal!” 

Now it’s your turn to furrow your brows at the shivering figure standing only a few feet away from you. 

What the hell is this guy even taking about? 

But then, before you can even confront him about it, you notice in horror that the man suddenly starts swaying slightly.

He’s going to faint, you think, small alarm bells going off in your head. And if he isn’t careful, which most people fainting usually aren’t, he’s going to fall right into your little patch of mandrake.

“Oh, for fucks sake.” You whisper, as you try to get to the guy and catch him before he can create any collateral damage to himself or your plants. 

“Hey, easy there.” You mumble while your hands come up in a steadying grip around the man’s waist. 

Good gods, he’s freezing, you think, as your fingers come in contact with his wet clothes. But the stranger only gives you his best attempt at a small, dopey smile. 

“Hi,” he whispers again, before his eyes widen in realization and panic. 

“Please don’t tell ‘em, that I-“

But before he can even finish the sentence, his eyes flutter shut in exhaustion, while he almost folds in on himself, slumping down, and you curse the gods and your familiar. 

“Reaper!” You call out, a little distressed, as you try your best to keep the stranger upright. 

“You got us into this dilemma, so you might as well help me carry him inside.”

“So, he’s staying?” Her deep voice inquires, and you don’t need to see her face to know there’s a smug smile playing on her inhumane features. 

“Well, you know I’m not that kind of a monster.” You mumble, annoyance still etched in your voice.

“He can stay until he wakes up again, but not a minute longer.”

You’re lying and you both know it.

This guy needs a lot more than just a quick rest on a couch by the mere looks of it, and even you don’t have the heart to leave a hurt stranger out in the cold woods like that.

Not when he looks like a lost poodle washed up to the shore of your little cottage. 

“You and your god damn strays.” You mutter, but Reaper barely acknowledges it. 

“He’s human.” She simply states. “I haven’t had a human in a long while.”

“Yes,” you whisper quietly, “and there’s a fucking reason for that.”

Getting the stranger situated on the cozy, green couch in your little living room is a lot easier with the helping claws of your familiar.

“He’s hurt,” Reaper whispers, with a small nod towards his feet, and you let out a huff while arranging the pillows behind the stranger’s back. 

“I know.” 

“You could heal him.” She quietly observes, and this time, you look up from her task, shooting daggers at your companion. 

“Well, I won’t.” You state, voice dripping with venom and hurt. “I’d rather die a thousand deaths than help a mortal human like that again, and you know damn well why.” 

Reaper shakes her heads, defeated, a crushed little sigh leaving one of her many mouths. 

“Your call, at the end of the day. I am merely observing.” 

You decide to simply ignore her last words, as you take in the form of the strange man on your couch. 

“He’s dripping all over my velvet canapé.” You remark with a frown. 

“He sure is, but I suppose pneumonia looks on humans as daunting as mud stains on your 19th hundred furniture. So, maybe we should get him out of these wet clothes.” 

You hate to admit that Reaper has a point as you consider her words. 

“Or you could just do a quick drying spell?” She proposes, a sly smile etched upon her features. 

“I already told you; I’m not using magic on a human.” 

“But it wouldn’t be to heal him.” 

“It doesn’t matter. No magic, end of the discussion.” 

“He’s not even conscious, you could-“ 

“Reaper! Enough!” You bite through clenched teeth. 

“This is not a topic that’s up for debate. I’ll help him, but not like that. Never like that. Not after what happened last time.” You whisper, and Reaper’s gaze turns slightly apologetic. 

“Besides, you still haven’t told me what the fuck you were thinking, leading a human to our cabin.” 

“He was hurt and obviously in need of help.” 

“And you’ve decided to become a Samaritan when?” 

Reaper huffs in fake disbelief. “What? So now it’s my fault for caring and trying to safe a poor human soul?” 

“I don’t know what kind of a game you think you’re playing, Reaps, but I know you’re up to something.” 

“Me? I’m innocent incarnate. Always was, always have been. Besides, you didn’t see him stumbling through the forest. He looked like he was running from the devil and hell itself.” 

“Oh, come on! You know she’s not that bad on a good day.”

Reaper shrugs her shoulders. “I’m just saying he was running from something, and he seemed genuinely scared.” 

“People in these parts of the wood usually are.” 

“I didn’t pick him up in these parts of the woods.” 

“Reaper!” You chide with a gasp, because she knows she’s not supposed to stray around anywhere near the edge of Hawkins. 

“Relax, no one saw me. And even if they did, they’re hardly going to be suspicious of a small, black cat.”

Reaper blinks for a moment, before tilting her heads in slight amusement.

“Wait, that didn’t come out quite right, let me rephrase it. They’re not going to be suspicious of me for the right reasons. So, don’t worry, I was just a little curious, is all.” 

“Curious or not, you know we cannot risk that kind of exposure. Not without a lot of safety measurements put in place first. And besides, do you even know who you’ve let take shelter in our fucking home?”

Your gaze wanders back to the dark-haired man still lying motionless on your couch.

“Ah, it’s fine, if he ends up being annoying I can always just eat him.” Reaper jokes, before turning a bit more stoic again.

“Seriously, don’t worry, whatever he’s been running from, he’s not another convicted mass-murderer, if that’s what you’re scared of.” 

“And how would you know that exactly?” You question, eyebrows raised, and a stern look on your face.

Your familiar starts to grow a little bit shy underneath your persistent gaze, as she drags her clawed feet over the thick, fluffy carpet sheepishly. 

“I might have nibbled on his soul a little, a-and he’s a pure one.” 

“Reaper!” You exclaim, throwing one of the spare pillows at the monster, who’s quick to defend herself. 

“I didn’t take anything, I swear! Just wanted to make sure he’s not-“ 

“Another serial killer. Yeah, yeah, your taste in man is worse than mine.” 

“Uh, that all a thing of perspective, as my philosophy professor used to say.” 

“Uh-huh, well from where I’m standing, my perspective is pretty clear, and I say you have a shit taste in men.” 

“Considering that I tend to eat them afterwards, I disagree.”

“God, you’re unbelievable,” you huff with a roll of your eyes, but there’s a small smile playing on the edge of your lips, and Reaper beams brightly, in a way only she can light up with her many faces and facets.

“Come on, I’ll help you get him out of these clothes, and even do the laundry, if you’re so adamant about not using magic.” She offers with the gentle pat of one of her clawed hands on your shoulder, and who are you to disagree; You hate doing laundry the human way.

Getting the stranger out of his wet clothes should not be that much of a hassle; still, you find yourself feeling a bit uneasy about it.

You’re doing this for the sake of your antique furniture and his health, you remind yourself, but it hardly makes you feel any better. 

You decidedly put his dark leather jacket on the edge of the couch, so you can pat it dry in a minute, and hang it up near the fireplace, while Reaper decides to study the back of the man’s dirty jean vest.

“Dio.” She quietly spells out, claws tracing the three letters. “Doesn’t ring a bell.” 

“It’s a band, I think,” you mumble, while your gaze rests once again on the unconscious man. 

He’s still wearing a shirt with the words ‘Hellfire’ etched upon it, something that even you don’t know the meaning of. 

“A devil’s fan club, maybe?” Reaper offers, before stating, “Though, I think she would be somewhat offended, if she saw herself drawn as that.”

Your friend points at the monstrous face painted in red right in the middle of the fabric, and you’re quick to brush her sharp fingers away. 

“Careful, I think that’s hand drawn.” You mutter, and Reaper’s eyes widen. 

“Really? Huh, wouldn’t have guessed that. Certainly creative, I’ll give him that.” 

“Yeah, well, less talking, more helping would be nice.” 

“On it, boss.” She chirps, multiple hands coming up to her heads in salutation. 

“You think we should get him out of his shirt too?” You inquire, and Reaper gives you a strange look. 

“Uh, unless you really want to risk a lung infection, yeah, I’d say so. You know that you could just solve this issue if you-“ 

“Not happening. Don’t start this discussion, again.”

“I’m just saying that if you’re so concerned about his modesty, there is a way around it.” 

“I’m not going to use magic. We’re going to wash and dry his clothes like normal people, and I’ll treat his injured foot with human remedies. No. Magic.” 

“Jeez Louise, alright. How about you take care of his shoes, while I take care of his shirt then, if you’re so freaked out about seeing human skin.” 

“It’s not that,” you mumble, “Imaging waking up in a stranger’s cottage stripped to your underwear – you’d be mortified too.” 

“Not when I eat all the witnesses afterwards.” 

“Yeah, well, I don’t think that’s an option for him.” 

“Right, poor pure soul and all.” 

Reaper and you end up managing to get him out of the rest of his clothes just fine. He’s still wearing his boxers, of course, and you’ve engulfed him in a pile of various blankets, in the hopes of keeping him warm and comfortable. 

And while Reaper went outside to take care of the laundry, you slipped back into the open kitchen, reheating the stew you kind of forgot about earlier. It’s still dinner time, after all.

You’re almost done setting the table for three, and Reaper has just made herself comfortable near the open fireplace again, when you hear a stirring motion coming from the couch. 

A stirring motion that is followed quickly by a slight gasp, and you’re by the side of the couch in seconds. 

The man in front of you looks at you wide-eyed and with a heaving chest. 

“Where am I?” He whispers, voice rougher than you remember, and this time it’s your turn to hold up your hands in a docile gesture. 

“You’re in my cottage.” You explain, though you doubt that that information is particularly of the helpful kind.

“You fainted earlier in my garden.” You add, hoping to refresh that stranger’s memory. 

“I’m not dead?” He questions, eyes still wide as saucers as he gazes up at you. 

“Dead?” You inquire, confusion etched on your face. “And what would this then be, hell or heaven?” 

There’s a faint blush traveling up the man’s cheeks, as he averts his eyes from you. 

Is it his fault that you look like an angel to him? But he refrains from saying that. Instead, the contours of his face take on a mortified expression. 

“Where are my clothes?” He asks, voice slightly shaky, and you try your best to calm his nerves again.

“They were completely soaked through when you arrived here, so we took the liberty to take them off and wash them. They’re now drying over there by the fireplace, see?”

To emphasize your words, you point towards the crackling fireside, and the various items of clothing arranged around it.

“We?” The stranger inquires, eyes darting through the room, but he doesn’t really see anyone other than you. Glancing over to Reaper, you explain:

“Me, and my… cat, I mean.” 

“Right.” The stranger states, as he tightens his grip around the blanket still wrapped around his chest, before parts of his features seem to relax slightly, and his nose twitches, kind of like that of a rabbit. 

“What’s this smell?” His voice is hushed, and while he continues to be apprehensive about meeting your eyes, you can still guess what he’s thinking. 

“I made a pumpkin beef stew, with freshly baked bread and garlic butter.” 

You haven’t even finished naming the first dish, when you see the blatant hopefulness light up in his eyes.

He doesn’t say anything; doesn’t quite dare to ask for a portion, but you can still see his quiet longing for a freshly cooked meal. 

“I’ve made enough for three, so you’re more than welcome to have some too.” 

It’s a half-truth, half-lie. 

You’ve actually only made enough for you, and an almost insatiable monstrous familiar.

But since Reaper is the one responsible for this whole mess, you’ve decided that she’ll simply have to share her portion. That way it will hopefully teach her a lesson too, you think.

You know, of course, that you could conjure up more with a simple spell, but that’s not the point. It’s about Reaper learning that there are consequences to her actions, as well as your overall apprehensions when it comes to practicing magic around humans.

The stranger looks a little helpless at your offer, and you quickly notice two things. 

Firstly, you still don’t know the name of the man sitting half naked on your velvet couch. 

And secondly, maybe you should migrate dinner from your big, wooden dining table to the small one next to the couch instead, so the guy doesn’t have to join you at your fancy Victorian dining table clad only in his underwear.

“Wait, keep yourself seated.” You tell the man when he tries to lift himself up. “I’ll fetch the food for you.” 

You watch him sink back down into your couch with a little sigh, as you quickly go to work in the open kitchen behind him.

“You haven’t even told me your name yet.” You observe, while reaching for a little foldable table stored on top of your kitchen cabins. 

Despite having your back turned towards him, you can feel him tense up a bit.

For a moment you suspect that the stranger might know about the power that the knowledge of a true name beholds, and you almost expect him to give you a fake one.

But when you turn back around to face him, he seems to be speaking the truth. 

“My name is Eddie.” He says while watching your face carefully for any kind of reaction, and when he sees no recognition light up in your face whatsoever, he adds, “Eddie Munson.” 

“Eddie Munson,” you whisper, the name doesn’t ring a bell, but you didn’t really expect it to. 

“Well, this is my cat Reaper and I’m-“

You contemplate lying for a second, but if he trusts you enough with his own name, it’s only fair for you to trust him with yours, too.

Besides, he doesn’t really look like he’s with the faerie folk. 

Your own name feels foreign in your mouth before it falls from your lips like a quiet curse, but Eddie doesn’t seem to recognize it either, and your shoulders relax slightly when you realize that he has no idea who you are. 

Good. 

Reaper decides to be part of the conversation, too, now, as she hopes up onto the couch, seeking out Eddie’s company quickly.

“Hi Reaper,” he mumbles, voice light, like he’s talking to a child, and your familiar keens at the softness.

“Reaper; A pretty name for a pretty cat,” Eddie observes, while scratching her back. 

And Reaper beams. 

Of course, she does; she’s easy like that.  

There’s a fond smile toying on your lips as you watch their exchange before you go back to the last of your preparations.

But when you carry your cauldron over to the coffee table with kitchen mittens, which you haven’t used in forever, you watch in horror as Reaper tries to nibble on Eddie’s finger again. 

“Reaper! No!” You chide, but Eddie gives you an easy smile. 

“It’s really not a problem.”

See, you’re familiar’s facial expression seems to say, when you give her a stern look. He’s fine. 

“Well, I think it is a problem and she really should know better. Besides, she has enough toys that she can chew up to her hearts delight. So, no reason to pester our visitor.”

“It feels quite funny.” Eddie observes.

Yeah, I bet it does, you think, but you bite your tongue. 

Instead, you just throw one more warning look Reaper’s way, who tries to look as innocent as she can muster, which in her kittycat form really isn’t that difficult. 

“Alright, here you go!”

Since your cottage is rather small, your kitchen, living- and dining room are a 3 in 1 kind-of-situation, which comes in handy because you don’t have to walk through a great deal of rooms and halls to get from your couch to your kitchen stove.

It’s only a few steps away, really.

“Careful, it’s still hot.” You warn, when you put the small fold-up tablet down near Eddie’s lap, who’s been sitting upright for a while now, watching you quietly in between his pets towards your cat.

There’s a big bowl of steaming stew on his little makeshift table, joined by a few slices of fluffy bread and a little pot with butter; and Eddie feels his soul already transcend into heaven, because good god, this smells amazing.

Still, he waits until you are seated by the coffee table, too. Your own bowl of stew etched upon it, and even Reaper gets a little pot, which Eddie finds kind of adorable. 

When the three of you start eating, Eddie can’t help the small moan slip past his lips. This is delicious, almost indescribably so, and though he tries hard to savor it, he can’t help but wolf most of it down, because he’s just been so. fucking. hungry. 

You watch him with something akin to fond eyes, as he wiggles slightly in his seat, while dipping the fresh bread into the homemade garlic butter. 

“Oh god, you could kill someone for this.” He mumbles in between some bites, and the smile on your face widens. 

“You can have second portion if you’d like.” You offer, and Eddie’s eyes widen. 

“Oh, I don’t-“

“It’s fine, really. There’s enough for one more bowl, and I’m sure neither Reaper nor I mind sharing, right Reaps?”

Your cat is mentally throwing daggers at you, but you just give her a sickly-sweet smile. 

“That’s what I thought. Good kitty.”

You pat her head in a patronizing way, before standing up, serving Eddie the last remains from your cauldron.

“That’s kind of a cool pot.” Eddie suddenly blurs out, “Looks kind of witchy.”

You feel yourself freeze for a second, before letting out an awkward laugh. 

“Yeah, uh, well, I’m kind of into … witchy things. You know, crystals, herbs, Fleetwood Mac.”

“Sure!” Eddie says between another bite from his bread. 

“Bet you have a crystal ball and some tarot decks hidden somewhere too. You’re certainly seem committed to the aesthetics. Black cat and all.”

You look at the man, trying to blink your confusion away, before handing him his steaming bowl of stew back over. 

“Sharing is caring, Reaps.” You state once you notice Reaper’s unamused face.

But as it turns out, your cat has quite the opinion about sharing too. And she’s not shy of voicing those either.

“Don’t mind her, she’s always throwing tantrums at the end of the day.” You explain to Eddie with an apologetic smile, when she tries clawing her way up one of his blankets, hissing, and you have to entangle the little beast from the fabric. 

She’s still snarling curses, but you decidedly play dumb. 

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about, I don’t speak cat.”

For a moment, you think that Reaper might successfully poke your eyes out at your condescending comment, but her little paws can hardly reach your face, as she tries to throw little punches in your grasp.

Cute. 

Half an hour later, Reaper is still sulking on a blanket near the fireplace, the kitchen’s almost done, because without magic cleaning up takes a lot longer than you’re used to, and Eddie is trying his hardest to fight of the repeating call of pure exhaustion, because he has a lot of questions and undoubtedly so do you. 

As you make your way back over towards the strange man, you have to admit that your questions can probably wait a few more hours till morning rise. Because the poor guy really does look like he’s been through it, and it’s now really catching up to him. 

You’ve already learned that he can be rather stubborn. After all, shooting down his offer to help you with the clean-up had been kind of difficult, but with his foot still being injured, you don’t want him hopping around in your kitchen space.

“I should probably still take a look at your foot.” You propose, as you sit down at the edge of the couch, looking over at Eddie, who’s still trying to fight off the inherent sleepiness that’s hitting him hard in increasingly bigger waves. 

“I don’t want to-“ he mumbles, words pulled apart by a big yawn, “be a bother.” 

“You’re not, but your foot might be, if you leave it unattended.” 

Eddie still looks a little bit unconvinced, like he doesn’t quite trust your kindness yet, or maybe, he just doesn’t think he deserves it. 

“Listen,” you state, after gazing at the flickering flames in your fireplace for a brief moment; their warm hue illuminating the otherwise darkened room with golden light, and you can feel traces of the heat lingering on your skin.

“I understand that you must have a lot of questions for me. After all, you have no idea who I am, and I have no idea who you are, but I don’t think that talking things out right now is a good idea.

Not when every second word falling from your lips ends up being a yawn, and I truthfully wouldn’t mind some good-night’s sleep either. So, how about we pin this discussion down for tomorrow morning instead?”

Eddie is about to disagree, but when all that leaves his mouth is another yawn, he has to admit you might have a point. 

“Okay,” he mumbles, the sound of his rustling blankets filling the quietness of the room, while he shifts on the couch. 

“Do you want me to still take a look at your foot?” 

“If you really don’t mind.” He whispers, and you scoff. 

“Of course not.” 

You might not be a fan of humans, but you never enjoyed seeing anyone in pain, human or non-human alike. 

It’s a quick thing to pull the blanket covering his feet up half-way, and you watch him wince slightly when your fingers brush against a part of his ankle. It looks a bit bruised and swollen, but not terribly so.

With as much tenderness as you can muster, you move his foot lightly, and while Eddie tries hard not to let the jolt of pain show, you can still see it clearly.

“T-that movement really hurt.” He mutters, cheeks flushed. 

“I’m sorry.” Comes your hushed reply. “The ankle is probably strained, but the good news is, at least it isn’t broken.” 

Eddie nods his head slowly, eyelids still heavy.

“What are you going to do now?” 

“It’s easy, Reaps, get-“ biting your tongue quickly, you stop the words that almost slipped out of your mouth. “Reaps, get out of my way.” 

You lightly shush the cat to the side while you stand up. 

“I’ll be back in a flash, don’t go anywhere.” 

Eddie just scoffs with a laugh. 

“Where would I be going?” He mumbles. 

“Where would I even be going?” 

Eddie watches intently, or with as much intent as he can muster, as you spread some kind of salve on the bruised parts of his foot.

You’ve told him what’s in it before; arnica, chamomile, and witch hazel, he thinks he remembers, but he’s not entirely sure. You also told him what’s good for what, but he wouldn’t be able to recall any of those things if his life depended on it. 

Still, he finds himself slightly in awe. The way your fingers quickly go to work, applying another tincture before reaching for the bandage makes him think you’ve done this before more than once.

“You really are quite the witch, huh.” He whispers, while trying to read the labels on some of the potions you’ve pulled out of a leathery bag. 

“Hardly,” you brush him off as you tighten the bandage around his foot lightly, but despite your dismissal you feel your cheeks heat up under his admiring gaze. 

“Alright, all set and done.” You state after another quiet pause, setting aside the little tape, and putting down his foot gently. 

“You should try not to move around too much while you sleep, but otherwise you should be set for the night. Are you still sure you don’t want any painkillers?” 

“It’s fine,” Eddie huffs, trying to get comfortable again, while you arrange the blanket around his legs back in a way that tugs him kind of in. 

“Alright. If you need anything, just call my name, okay? My bedroom is just right up those stairs and I’m a light sleeper, so I should be able to help, no matter what arises.” 

Eddie nods his head, another yawn contouring his face.

“Reaps, come on! You’re sleeping with me tonight.” 

There’s a little disappointed frown that Eddie tries to cover up quickly, before he asks, voice timid, “She can’t stay here for company?”

He’s not looking at you, twirling around one of his many rings instead, and for a second you seriously consider it, before shaking your head softly. 

“Sorry, no. Reaper gets tempted with her toys sometimes, and uh, I don’t want you to wake up to the noise of her tearing through one of her squeaky chickens.” 

“I understand.” Eddie nods his head again, as you make your way towards the staircase; Reaper nestled in your arms. 

“And you’re really not going to tell anyone I’m here?” Eddie questions one last time, voice incredibly soft and exhausted. 

“I already told you Eddie, I won’t tell a single soul. Not until we’ve had our talk in the morning.” 

“Okay.” He still seems somewhat wary, before he adds a quick and hushed, “Good night, then.” 

“Good night, Eddie.” You whisper back with a small sigh.

You wish you could give him more than the pile of blankets, and the last faint glimmers flickering away in your fireplace.

But there’s hardly anything you can do for the boy right now, other than let him have a few hours of hopefully restful sleep.

And who knows what will come with the rising sun tomorrow. 

You’re already with one hand on the banister of your stairs, when you hear Eddie call out your name faintly.

“Yeah?” You question, turning back around to the man you’ve only been introduced a couple of hours ago, but you still feel some kind of softness towards.

“Thank you.” He mumbles, cheeks stained a hint of cheery-red. “A-and sleep well.” 

“You too, Eddie.” You hush just as quietly. “You too.”

“You like him.” Reaper singsongs teasingly as she lifts up part of your blanket to slip underneath.

“No, I don’t.”  

“Yes, you do.”

She’s back in her true from, and there are little giggles coming from her, as she cuddles up next to you until only the very end of her tail is poking out slightly from beneath the covers, and she’s quick to tug that in too. 

“At least admit that he’s kind of your type.”

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Oh, but you do. You’re not half as stand-offish as you were in the beginning.” 

“That’s not true.”

“Yes it is! I mean, you must really like if you decided to give him my portions of the meal.” 

“Oh, don’t be dramatic, you’ve still had more than enough. Besides, that whole thing was more of a punishment for you than an incentive to him.” 

“Sure. Keep telling yourself that, since you already seem to believe it.”

You roll your eyes as you pull part of the shared blanket back towards yourself, before stating, “I guess, he’s not as bad as I thought he would be. And you have to admit that there’s just something about him that seems kind of tortured.”

“Right, and I’m the one with the weird taste in man, okay.” 

You shove Reaper playfully, before curling up more next to her.

“Shut up and let me sleep.” 

“I wonder who’ll you dream about.” 

“Oh my god, don’t make this weirder than it already is, and stop fumbling around.” 

“I would, if you’d stop hogging the fucking blanket, which we only have to share, might I remind you, because you decided to give all the other ones to the goddamn stranger sleeping downstairs who you supposedly don’t care about.” 

“A stranger you brought here in the first place.” 

“Oh hush, you can thank me for it later.” 

“Like hell I will and-oh my god, get your hairy feet away from my legs.” 

“But they’re cold.” Reaper whines, and you stifle the urge to throw another pillow. 

There’s a quiet tug and pull fight going on between you two for a bit, as you both struggle to get comfortable underneath the shared fluffy fabric. 

“Fuck,” Reaper suddenly whispers, after being unusually quiet for a moment.

“If you’re cuddled up here, and I’m cuddled up here, who’s going to turn off the lights?” 

You both groan in unison, before another bickering fight starts breaking out.

You wake up again to a piercing scream that makes your blood run cold and the hairs on your body stand up straight.

It takes you a heartbeat or two, to figure out whether it was a dream or not; but at the memories of the previous events this evening, your thoughts immediately go to Eddie.

Reaper’s still lying beside you, wide awake too, and concern etched deep into her faces, as she watches you get up quickly.

“Stay here.” You instruct, while stumbling past the bed. “I’ll call you if I need help.”

When you rush down the stairs into the living room, everything is eerily quiet, something that definitely doesn’t help ease your pounding heart. 

The fire has completely burned out by now, limiting your vision as well. But luckily there’s are some soft rays of moonlight slipping past your window curtains, so you can kind of make out a trembling figure sitting upright on your couch. 

Eddie.

You whisper his name with a tenderness, that only the nighttime ever bears witness to, but despite your efforts, Eddie still flinches at the sound of your voice and your steps. 

“Hey, hey, it’s just me.” You try to soothe, hoping it might calm him down a little, but he just looks at you, wide-eyed and shoulders shaking slightly.

Your heart sinks at the sight, tugging on something deeply hidden within of you, and the feeling only intensifies once you realize that he’s been crying, cheeks tear-stained and red.

“Eddie what’s wrong?” You whisper, worried that he might be seriously hurt, or at the very least more hurt than he’d initially led on. 

But he only shakes his head, eyes averted, and chest heaving with quick strokes. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, voice rough, and tinted with embarrassment. 

“I didn’t mean to wake you.” 

There’s a heartbeat of silence before he mumbles a quick, “It was just another nightmare.”

“Oh,” You whispers, unsure of what else to say. 

For a brief moment, Eddie’s eyes hesitantly meet yours, and it’s like he’s trying to scope out your reaction. 

You’re not sure what he expected; anger maybe, or amusement. 

But there’s nothing but soft sorrow reflected in your eyes. 

“Nightmares can be the worst.” You mumble.

You would know. You still have them too, even centuries later. 

“Listen, Eddie, whatever you’ve dreamed about, your safe now. You’re safe.” 

You crouch down a little, gently taking one of his shaking hands in yours. 

“You’re safe.”

Relief washes over Eddie’s features, and as it floods his eyes, he has to avert his gaze quickly again.

“Why are you so nice to me?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Eddie doesn’t have an answer to that, and while silence fills the space between you two, you try to think of something that might help him. 

“Do you maybe wanna talk about it?” You carefully offer. “Sometimes it helps to name the ghosts that haunt you.” 

Eddie looks at you with questioning eyes. 

“A-are you sure?” He sniffles.

“What? That it’s going to help? Well, I wouldn’t put a pledge on it but-“

“No.” Eddie interrupts you quietly, “Are you sure you want to listen to all that?”

“That bad, huh?”

“Worse.” Eddie states with a bitter laugh, before growing a bit antsy again. 

“Alright, scoot over then.” You state, and Eddie complies after a heartbeat of wonder as he watches you sit down next to him. 

The man with the unruly hair and the tired eyes keeps playing with some loose strands from one of your blankets, before saying, “I just keep seeing her die, over and over again.” 

“Who?” You whisper.

“A friend. I watched her die and now it’s all I see whenever I close my eyes.”  

There’s something inside of you that grows stiff at his words, as they truly sink in. 

“You watched your friend die?” 

Your eyes travel back to Eddie as he squirms slightly.

“Yes.” He states, voice emotional. “Four days ago.” 

“How a-and who?!”

“You wouldn’t believe me if you tried.” 

“Is that why you’re on the run?” You question. “Because the murderers saw you, and now they’re after you too?” 

Eddie scoffs, shaking his head. 

“No,” dejection clear in his voice, he asserts, “They think that I did it.” 

You feel like you’ve been hit by lightning. 

“Eddie,” you murmur, heartbeat racing in your chest now, “tell me everything that happened.” 

And Eddie does; but not without his apprehensions at first. 

Still, you find out about Chrissy and the horrors of her death.

You find out about his hide-out at an acquaintance’s place, about his friend Dustin, and the theory of the upside down.

You find out about how he’s the number one suspect to the police, and how one of his classmates started a vigilant group against him, completely convinced that he’s in some kind of deal with the devil.

Recounting a lot of those parts has Eddie back in an emotional turmoil; and you’re not sure who started hugging whom first, but now he’s currently hiding away in your embrace, face pressed against the nape of your neck as he murmurs.

“Please don’t tell them where I am. Please don’t let them get to me. It’s like a fucking witch-hunt, and I’m not sure what they’ll do once they’ll have me.” 

It's these words that end up haunting you the most that night. 

It’s these words that stir something deep down inside of you.

A memory, and a curse, and an experience you don’t want anyone to go through ever again. 

Not if you can help it. 

Not if there’s something you can do about it. 

“Eddie, it’s okay.” You whisper. “It’s going to be okay, and I’m not going to tell anyone, you hear me?”

You feel Eddie nod his head against your skin, as your fingers come up to his hair, brushing through his curls carefully.

“I’m not going to let anyone hurt you. You’re safe here, and you can stay as long as you need. You said that you have nowhere to go, but you can just stay here, until Hawkins has found the actual killer, and you can go back home again.” 

You feel Eddie pause for a moment, his quiet sniffles coming to a halt. 

“You would let me stay?” He whispers. “You would let me hide here? But you don’t even know how long this manhunt will go. It might take months before they’ll might clean off my name. And maybe even that won’t happen. Maybe I’ll always-“ 

“Hey, hey, easy there, Eddie. You’re going to drive yourself insane with those what-if’s. Listen, I don’t know what exactly the future will hold, but I won’t let you succumb to the fate of a witchhunt.” 

A fate so similar to your own.

A fate that cut you so deeply, you still carry the scars on your heart, centuries later. 

A fate simply nobody deserves to live through – not even a human like Eddie.

Eddie cannot believe his ears; cannot believe that you’d offer to help him, without really knowing who he is, without really knowing whether or not he’s been telling the truth. 

Still, you’re adamant about your words and their meaning, and he struggles to comprehend how you could be that kind. 

“Why would you help me like that?” He whispers, voice hushed and so confused. 

Because people once thought that I killed someone too, when all I did was try to help. And my family had to pay the price for it, every single one of them, except for me; and they would have killed me too, if they’d found me, you think.

But you don’t say that.

Couldn’t let your lips form these words, even if you wanted to.

It’s one of those kind of secrets that’s been buried for so long; even just whispering the name of the tragedy would be like asking for trouble. 

Instead, you say, “Because if what you told me is true, you deserve shelter more than anyone. I’ve seen something similar like this play out before and I’ll be damned if I’ll let it happen again.”

“What do you mean?” Eddie mumbles with a slight tilt of his head, and you bite your tongue in a silent curse. 

“I, uh, I just heard about a case similar to this, and it was all really horrifying.” You quickly try to cover up, praying to the gods above that your words are convincing enough.

You seem to have succeeded, or at the very least, Eddie is too tired to ask any complex follow-up questions to your supposed story. 

For a brief moment, you simply stay like this; your arms wrapped around Eddie’s waist, while he folds right into. He’s still exhausted, and if you’re honest with the onslaught of new revelations, so are you. 

“You should try get some more sleep, Eddie.” You murmur against his shoulder, all while trying your hardest not to notice how foreign this whole situation feels.

Never in your wildest dreams would you have thought that this would be how your night ends. Not today and not for the next couple of centuries at the very least.

Nevertheless, here you are, comforting a human about a fate drawn in such a familiar shape to yours.

Except he still has a shot at a happy ending.

The happy ending you’ve never got to witness. 

Eddie hums at your recommendation, but it’s quickly followed by a timid question.

“Would you mind staying just a little while longer? I don’t want to be all alone and watch her die again.” 

Unfortunately, there’s no such thing as an herbal remedy for nightmares, at least none that’s bulletproof, and since you’re still very much not into the idea of practicing any kind of magic in the presence of a human, there’s little you can do about them.

So, if Eddie thinks you’re your lingering company might help, well, where’s the harm in that?

It’s only going to be for a little while; till he’s drifted off, maybe, you tell yourself.

“I’ll stay for a bit, Eddie.” You whisper, and the man lowly hums at that.

“Thank you.” Comes a muffled reply, and you know he’s not just talking about your company.

“It’s really not a problem.” You whisper back.

You’re not just talking about staying here until he’s fallen asleep, either. 

You wake up the next morning to hairs in your face and they’re not the ones of your cat.

You know that because Reaper is sitting right on the coffee table next to you, a bright expression on her face. 

“Morning.” She chirps, a knowing look in her eyes as she regards you and Eddie.

It takes you a heartbeat to realize where you are exactly, and what is going on.

You must have fallen asleep last night on the couch too, instead of wandering back to your own bed.

You feel flustered at the revelation, and Reaper’s teasing looks certainly don’t help either. But trying to get out of Eddie’s grip, even though he’s still fast asleep, isn’t as easy as you had hoped.

And you just know that Reaper is going to have a field day with this, bringing it up and rubbing it in your face for the next few centuries. 

“Well, well, well. At least you were able to share more than one blanket.” Reaper observes, before jumping off the table and strutting away with a swing in her step. “But sure, you don’t care about him.” 

You let your head fall back into your pillow with a small groan.

You hate how Reaper might have the tiniest, littlest point; and it doesn’t help that Eddie looks completely angelic and peaceful in your arms. 

God, you’re fucked, and you haven’t even known him for a full 24 hours yet. 

In the end, you do manage to entangle yourself from Eddie without waking him up.

You need to talk to Reaps about the revelations of the night, but your usual chats in the kitchen are rather difficult to have with Eddie sleeping only a few feet away. 

So, you do the only sensible thing you can think of, stepping outside into the surrounding woods and your little garden for some privacy instead. 

“Be honest,” you confront Reaper with a gentle bump of your shoulder against hers, “did you eavesdrop on Eddie and me last night?” 

“Me? No! Should I have?”

You roll your eyes slightly. 

“No, of course not, but if you did, this conversation would at least be unnecessary.”

“Well, I didn’t. So, tell me what mister puffy hair had in his defense after screaming the house down like that.”

“This isn’t funny, Reaps. He really is traumatized.” You explain with a chiding look on your face, before slowly recalling the events of last night.

“He had a nightmare? Aw man, I thought he just stubbed his toe or something.” Reaper states, and you give her another slight bump with your shoulder.

But even she grows unusually quiet after you bring up the witch-hunt aspect and the reasons for his distraught.

“So, what do you want to do now?”

“The right thing, of course.”

“And that is what exactly, you moral witch?”

“He’s going to stay, until his name gets cleared, and it’s safe for him to go home again.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Do I look like I am?”

“I’m sorry, but are you forgetting that I’m pretty much tied to my damn cat costume around that boy, because mortals have a bit of a tendency to turn mad, or to stone upon seeing my true form?

Do I have to remind you that you said you wouldn’t do any magic around another human, and now one is staying here for an indefinite amount of time? How do you think all of that’s going to work out, huh?”

“Well, we’re going to make it work. Besides. what are a few days without magic in the grand scheme of thing?.”

“Days? Do you think this kind of issue is going to be solved in the matter of a few days?! You must have a lot of faith in the human police force if you think they’ll figure this out that quickly. This could end up taking weeks, months, or worse, his name never gets cleared at all! What then, huh? What then?”

Reaper has a point; she usually has, you suppose, but you just tell her the same thing you told Eddie.

“We don’t know how the future will play out, so there’s not much use driving yourself crazy over it. Besides, it not going to be for forever. Eddie will want to go back to his friends and family eventually, even if his name ends up not being cleared the way he deserves.”

Reaper still looks unconvinced, but she’s not the only one who’s mastered the skill of making puppy-eyes. 

“Come on, Reaps, it’s not going to be that bad. We can make this work, we always do.” 

“Sure, but you usually have your magic, unless of course-“

“Oh, no! Forget it! I’m still with my promise to never practice magic around a human again. And that promise continues to stand. End of that discussion.”

“But that’s going to make things so much more difficult.” Reaper whines, throwing her heads back in annoyance, and you can’t help but laugh a little at her dramatic antics.

“You’re going to regret this decision.”

“I will be just fine, thank you.”

Once you two are back in the house, you start with your preparations for breakfast, while Eddie is still sleeping peacefully.

He needs it, you think, and after everything he’s been through, he deserves it too.

By the time he wakes up, the bread you’ve baked is ready, and you’re in the midst of carrying it to the coffee table together with some homemade jams, and a big jug of hot cocoa.

Reaper still isn’t particularly satisfied with your plan, but you ignore her ramblings as you pass out the plates. 

You try your best to focus on Eddie instead, who’s just woken up.

He’s a little disoriented at first, but once the memories of last night come back, there’s a faint blush on his cheeks as his eyes dart over to you, and you two try to make soft small talk to the best of your abilities. 

The breakfast still ends up being a little awkward, as you reassure him that him staying in your cottage for the foreseeable future really is fine; that you didn’t mind him waking you up, and that it really is no bother at all. 

Reaper sighs, but with her being an adorable cat again, it comes out more like a kind of sneeze. 

“Bless you.” Eddie coos, and you have to stifle a laughter when his words have Reaper arching her back, hissing.

“She’s not to fond of Christian traditions, even the ones who have lost their meanings a bit.” You mumble, and Eddie laughs lightly.

The shy smiles you two keep exchanging over breakfast feel foreign, especially with how genuine they are.

You reiterate your offer, that he can stay and take shelter here, but Eddie is adamant about making some kind of pact. 

“If I get to stay here, at least let me help you too. I don’t want to be confined to the couch endlessly, and I’m sure there are some tasks I could do, that don’t involve the usage of my foot.”

You appreciate that he wants to be useful in some kind of way, and considering that you’ll have to forgo your magic ways, another pair of helping hands could certainly come in handy. 

“Alright, deal.” You promise, hand stretched out towards Eddie’s. 

“Deal.” He states, beaming brightly, the previous bags under his eyes only faint traces of their former selves. 

He’s going to get better, and he’s going to be okay, you tell yourself. 

And above all, he’s not going to be cursed with the same fate you had to endure a long time ago. 

You just won’t let that happen. 

It’s a promise you silently plead to him, to yourself and the stars that night, as you step out to clear your head with fresh forest air and the twinkling lights of the universe, peaking through the branches of trees above. 

And just like all your other promises, you intend to keep that one too. 

You couldn’t keep your last one, but this time things will be different; they simply have to be. 

____________

And that's it! I'll try to have the next part out soon, but I have a couple more Halloween-themed stories planed, so we'll see if I'll manage to post them all in time 😵‍💫.

[x0401x]

Do you think making a masterlist of currently active animanga blogs in a post to pass around perhaps would help? I try my best to find new ones since I don't know too lany, but as one anon stated previously in response to your post, a lot of orginal blogs are either inactive or deactivated. There are some series I love that have no content on here at all left since all the content is from blogs that are deactivated. Unsearchable.

I have the ambitious project (not now since I am in tremendous medical struggles/possible eventual end of life, but if I make it through it) of making some sort of semi regular gifset-manga-animanga contest of sort, with small money prizes, both for winners and smallers ones given at random for participation. Trying to bring back the old blood or bring in the new, you know? I am extremely far from that point and may never make it there, but I have always loved the animanga community of tumblr. It was always so cozy for me after my accident and after I ceased being a game developer. There is a charm to it!

Anyway, all of that to say you are not crazy, it did shrink and it is a relief to know I am not alone amongst those who miss the larger community that used to be there. Especially the content creators who deleted everything.

Hopefully we see a renaissance 💕❤

I hope you don’t mind me answering this publicly because Tumblr has been weird with asks lately, so I can never trust that my reply would go through if I answered privately.

And damn, I sure wish it helps because it’d help me, at least. I really wanna follow more blogs. My dash is dead lately. And wow, money prizes??? That’s very generous but are you sure about that? Not to rain on your parade or anything, but if you’re in tremendous medical struggles, maybe it’s best to save up all you can, even in the aftermath of it. By the way, I’m very sorry to about your condition. Hoping for the best to you.

I’ve been on this site for almost 15 years now and it’s the complete opposite of what it used to be at the beginning. It’s changed for the worst in every aspect except features and functionality. I really, really miss how it was before. I miss how the internet was back then in general. Just an entirely different thing. And that’s why I think it’s gonna be hard to get a renaissance, even with monetary incentives.

Don’t get me wrong, I think you should totally do the thing if you’re ever able to! It sounds pretty neat. But what needs to happen for things to go back to how they were before is that people have to start using the site as it was intended to be used. This place isn’t like other platforms, and although there are lots of posts explaining how to use the site properly, I feel like the people who want Tumblr to return to its golden are are the only ones passing them around. The message isn’t really getting to who it should be getting. I wish there was a way to teleport the new users back in time so they could experience the peak of this hellhole. But unfortunately, we have to find other ways to make them understand why they should reblog, make their own posts and follow/interact with other users. Perhaps that’s where the money could go to? A reblog/edit/follow spree challenge/contest? I don’t know, but either way, that’s a neat idea you have.

Again, hoping for the best to you! And thanks for coming by my inbox!

[writingmaidenwarrior]

Sin Eaters Part 2

You will find Part 1 over here

I made a WIP Blog over at @sin-eaters-wip

Tagging @cljordan-imperium

Warnings: mentions of conditioning/brainwashing, mentions of non-consensual sex

Some time later she found the time to escape to one of the verandas for some fresh air. Even with the doors and windows open at this nice warm night the ballroom felt too warm and stuffed after a short time.

“I thought I would find you here”, Eshfyrr stated softly.

He stepped next to her with a glass of water in his hands.

“Yeah, this gives me a headache, in more than one way.”

Talindra pointed behind her back and got a solemn nod in return.

“So, he told you, too.”

“You mean the bugs that bring funny pollen?”

Eshfyrr looked at her confused but noticed her glance behind him. Acting like he would help her with her hair he stepped behind her and looked in the direction she had glanced before only to sigh a moment later. The ballroom itself wasn’t surveilled but the outside clearly was and Talindra didn’t know if Wynthan didn’t know or if he forgot to tell her.

“Yeah, the bugs with the pollen. Lucky me I don’t have hay fever, but I remember you have a history, don’t you?”

“Nothing a good dose of the right meds won’t solve. Would be bad if hay fever would stop me from kicking some monster ass.”

“Feeling better?”

He analyzed her up and down to check if there was more, she wasn’t saying for now, but she just smiled and nudged him by his shoulder.

“Yeah, let’s get back inside before our new partners start a search party.”

“That would be fun”, Eshfyrr snickered diabolical, “I have the feeling Ylvante would be that kind overly careful.”

“You got the careful one, and I the mischievous one. Sounds like a good match.”

“If Kylantha now got a sarcastic one we are doomed.”

Laughing they reentered the ballroom and immediately checked for cameras, but the words of the horned ones got proved right again.

“How are you handling the new information?”, Eshfyrr asked in a low voice.

“You mean the higher ups seeing me as some breeding machine for new warriors and trying to turn the horned ones into rapists? Remember the incident at the Red Coal Pass?”

“Very vividly.”

“Multiply this. That’s what I like to do with the higher ups now.”

A side glance to his horned one Ylvante and Eshfyrr got a dead serious expression.

“I think I can speak for him as well when I say, you can count us in if you want to go up to have a word your way.”

With a thankful smile Talindra kissed Eshfyrr’s cheek and patted it afterwards.

“Thank you, Esh. We hopefully never need this.”

For some reason she never understood she felt like she needed to protect him, despite them both being the same age. He rolled his eyes at her but left with a smirk.

“Do I need to be jealous?”, Wynthan’s voiced sounded off behind her with an amused undertone.

A small smile on her face, Talindra turned around ready to play a little with him.

“What if?”

“I might question the raffle.”

“Feeling a bit put aside?”, she teased.

Her gaze found Kylantha and went to move over but Wynthan simply moved a step in her way. It wasn’t even a real threat or anything strict but the plain way he did it made Talindra stop right away.

“I am maybe a bit overprotective; I admit.”

“There is a silent but”, she pressed.

He slightly furrowed his brows, just enough for her to notice.

“Have you eaten anything yet?”

For a split second she was confused about the change of topics but saw his eyes flicker to the small area close to the buffet.

“Oh, the whole thing really makes me forget it.”

Talindra turned to the buffet in a way it hopefully looked to bystanders like he caught her from swaying because she hadn’t eaten yet. It was known among her comrades she had the habit to not eat when nervous, so this would be no surprise to anyone. Wynthan guided her to the side of the buffet, away from prying eyes and curious ears, hurried away to get some snacks and sat down with her again.

“What was that about?”, Talindra inquired the moment she picked the first pastry up.

“While you went out on the balcony I talked with the others. Something is different between us.”

“Fill me in.”

He picked one of the pastries and started to deconstruct it slowly for eating. It took a lot from Talindra to not giggle at the scene since it somehow made him look like a little kid.

“I didn’t tell the whole truth why I knew you were around the other day. I saw you because there was a strange sensation like a … pull? … towards the area where you stood.”

“We thought you saw us but weren’t sure”, she replied thoughtful, “But what is it about this pull?”

He shrugged and stuffed the last of his pastry in his mouth. Their gazes went back into the ballroom where everyone else was talking and dancing.

“No one knows. I thought it had to do with the fact how we got picked as pairs, but the others don’t have this sensation with their human partners. It is like …”

“… you instinctively trust me for no reason?”

Wnythan’s head jolted up, his eyes trained on her he leaned forward.

“How do you know?”

Her gaze flickered aside to check if they were still alone and leaned in a little.

“It’s the same with me. I can’t explain it.”

“That’s why you played with me?”

“Nope”, she made a funny face, “That was because I could. You don’t need to be jealous of Eshfyrr, we had been through a lot, and he is like a brother to me.”

A soft snicker escaped Wynthan as he shook his head.

“Two peas in a pod, aren’t we?”

“Looks like this. But one more thing.”

“That would be?”

“Did you know the outside is bugged?”

The worried face and sudden jerk of Wynthan’s head to the next veranda was all she needed to know.

“They never were. How did you notice?”

“Strange reflection when I went outside for some fresh air.”

“We need to tell the others.”

“Eshfyrr knows already because he came outside to check on me. I take Kylantha, I wanted to talk to her anyway. We need to be fast before anyone spills something outside that would put the higher ups on our lead.”

Something like a proud smile appeared on Wynthan’s face before he nodded and hurried to the next pair of Sin Eaters. With a little more ease Talindra made her way to Kylantha and the female horned one by her side.

“Hey Ky, I see you are already deep in conversation”, she greeted with a wide smile.

“Just the one I was talking about”, Kylantha joked and stretched out and arm to her, “Deiwryll, this is Talindra, the bane of every commanding officer and savior of every warrior underneath her.”

“You are exaggerating.”

Trying not to get flustered, Talindra took a sip of her water she carried around since Eshfyrr handed it to her.

“I heard about the Red Coal Pass incident”, Deiwryll stated, “As far as my understanding is, without you half of the dispatched warriors would be dead or wounded now.”

“Unfortunately, my commanding officer thought differently until we were back for the debriefing, and he got a lecture about the safety of everyone. If less people with their own mind were around this would have ended worse.”

Deiwryll nodded solemnly and gave Talindra a moment to study her. She was small for a horned one, just a hand width taller than her but her horns were impressive and the scars on her exposed skin told a story of her not holding back.

Almost simultaneously all three made a step closer to each other.

“What’s the deal, Tal?”

“Outside is bugged.”

“That’s new”, Deiwryll stated without any reaction.

“Noticed by accident but it prevented Eshfyrr from spilling it all on a veranda. There is a chance there are more cameras around than we know.”

“Wynthan already gave you the full picture?”

The way Deiwryll looked at her gave Talindra a weird feeling.

“As good as the situation allows. The bugs, the leader’s idea about combat partner, how you got trained.”

Kylantha and Deiwryll exchanged telling looks. There was clearly an information missing from Talindra’s knowledge.

“What?”

“We got a timeframe”, Deiwryll stated softly, “Six months. Officially to get used to each other but in reality, for us to get the human partners become our submissives.”

“Interesting. Tell the others about the outside bugs.”

With a smile Talindra left them. She took a small round around the ballroom and found another comrade she could warn. The sheer number of people made it a difficult task to find the targets to inform, especially with a third of the guest towering over her with at least a foot of height on her. She decided she did all she could and went to the bathrooms.

As she came back through the long hallway to the ballroom Wynthan caught her.

“Here you are.”

“Missed me?”, she joked but her smile faded the moment she saw his thoughtful expression.

“Deiwryll told me she told you about the timeframe. I wanted to check on you.”

Carefully to not trip over her dress, Talindra stepped aside to the window and looked up to see if there were any bugs. He snickered about her and shook his head.

“Don’t worry. No surveillance here. You, ok?”

“You are strangely worried about me, Wynthan.”

His expression changed to an aloof smile, and he joined her at the window.

“You better learn it now. I am a softie. Can’t tell how many times I ended up in ‘extra training` because I couldn’t follow the cruel orders. Before you ask, it was a nice term for punishment to break you until you do what they want.”

“You got punished for refusing to get brainwashed?”

“Yeah. The others were better with playing along for their safety. We always do, that’s how we survive but some things just …”

The way he trailed off Talindra got a bad feeling about what kind of so-called training it was he refused.

“Wynthan?”

“Mhmm?”

“Deiwryll said the higher ups twisted idea of us pairs being romantic partners means the horned partner becomes the dominant one.”

A heavy sigh and a nod.

“You know we somehow need to make this work if we want to fly under the radar and not draw any attention to us.”

The sarcastic laugh said everything and was how she felt deep down as well.

“And how does my smart little stalker think we can achieve this?”

His gaze pierced into her with the dimmed light illuminating his face in way it appeared even more haunted but also helpless.

“We have six months to figure it out. And lucky you, my sex drive is pretty high.”

The confused blinking on his side made her laugh.

“Don’t be so weird out. Is it so strange to you for a woman to have one?”

“No, but you surprised me by stating it that directly.”

“You better get used to it.”

A cheeky grin on her face, Talindra patted his cheek and went back to the ballroom. The need for something stronger than water arose in her and all those revelations of the last hours made her want to drown the evening in as much alcohol she could stomach. Fuck the hangover the next day.

[planets-and-prose]

Writeblr Re (Re, re, re) Introduction!

Hi all, I'm Ten. Again. I've been on Writeblr since, like...2018? 2019? College. I was in college, I had lots of time, lots of energy, super active. Then, well, I graduated, had to adult, the absolute love of my life became disabled, and now I'm a social worker doing my goddamn best. So I've been dead on this account for like, at least 2 years. Maybe 3.

But I'm, like, basically a cockroach, and I'm never going to get away from the desire to write things, so I'm working hard to try again, engage, prioritize the things that bring me joy. So, blurb aside, some shit about me under the cut!

I'm 24, and I do specifically case management and behavioral health services, but I shorten it to social work. Basically, I help advocate for individuals with mental illnesses and act as a buddy while they learn, or relearn, how to function in the community and work on themselves.

All my writing is queer. Literally all of it. I am deeply allergic to not putting LGBT+ rep in my writing, even if there's no romance people are LGBT+. Personally I am asexual, panromantic, violently nonbinary, and a complete disaster. My pronouns are they/them.

I write mostly sci-fi, fantasy, and supernatural type stories. And I always do happy endings. I deal with some really low lows in my daily life, writing is my escape, so I like to live in my worlds where everything turns out okay in the end, no matter how much suffering happens first (read: i am a slut for hurt/comfort).

Right now, my energy is so low that I do not want to commit to betaing anything long form, but I'd love to read excerpts, shorter stuff, cheer you on, etc!

I am also down to be a reference for people wanting to portray mental illness. Personally I have the classic depression/anxiety/PTSD cocktail, but I also have ADHD and have lots of experience with what mental illness looks like on a daily basis. Also a decent reference for LGBTQ stuff, especially in rural areas, and stuff relating to my job.

Finally, I'm probably coming off as a bit cynical here, and I do often cuss/use sarcasm, but I genuinely want to hug all of your OC's and I want to do my best to support y'all with the few spoons I have!

About my WIP's:

You can tell I have ADHD by the WIP turnover rate in this blog. I have tags for them I believe, an organized post might happen later, but here's the two new shiny WIP's I anticipate working on the most over the next bit.

A supernatural...vaguely horror, vaguely satire, series of short stories about a group of people, all of whom met at a college, who meet up and protect their college town from monsters. I hate to call it Scooby-Doo meets Supernatural vibes, because it's not QUITE that? It's based on the RPG Monster of the Week, so hopefully that gives you an idea of the vibes.

I am also hoping to start a fantasy, dnd like WIP involving a character I absolutely adore that I made for another story with my partner that needs his own spinoff. More info to come? Hopefully?

I won't lie to y'all and promise consistency or activity, but I'm hoping sharing some of my stuff will help motivate me to get back into Writeblr. Sending love to y'all, and pls feel free to rant to me about your WIPs too!

[running-on-a-broken-record]

Poor Hermit! Hopefully he can eventually sleep it off.

What does Madpat do when officers enter his restaurant. Just to eat or for important business, it’s completely up to you!

(Absolutely adoring this blog btw)

Thank you 🩷

I have actually wondered this myself so I have an… almost uncomfortable amount of detail for this one. I would say I’m sorry but I’m not :)

Initially, he’s definitely going to be freaked out. We see how in Web of Lies, the restaurant isn’t exactly… clean of evidence, so even a small inspection is bound to reveal a little bit of the crimes that have been committed in that maze of halls (please say I’m clever for that reference I really try 😭)

The police officers are there on their lunch break, just hanging out, hoping to check out the restaurant that they’ve heard has good pizza, so long as you overlook the mess (but hey, it’s a children’s restaurant, what’re you gonna do?)

They’re still in uniform for their break, so as soon as Mad sees them, he thinks they’re out to get him. A million possibilities run through his mind. Did he let something slip??

He watches them, kind of stalker-like, just to see what they’re doing, and when they find an open seat and sit down, just the three of them, he’s relieved.

Before he realizes that can be just as dangerous if they see something they shouldn’t.

He takes the time to introduce himself, welcome them to the restaurant, ask what their business is— just to be absolutely certain that they aren’t here for anything malicious.

He refuses to let any other employees speak to the group. He and only he is allowed to approach them, no matter what. The employees know too much. And he can’t trust them to be smart enough to shut their mouths.

He tries to hide his feelings about the police in the pizzeria, but he isn’t exactly stellar at it. Especially with how much he wants them out, before they find something they shouldn’t. Even still, he provides decent customer service as the owner of the place.

Got to keep up a good reputation. But not good enough for them to come back. Like, ever.

I can see him giving them the worst pizza they have at the time so they dislike it and decide the place is a dump, but I doubt he’d go so far as to mess up the order completely.

Unless he was really desperate to get them out. Which, honestly, he could be.

He’s very, very snappy with the staff while the officers are in the building. They’re used to him being stern about keeping a good reputation for the restaurant— gotta keep bringing in customers— but when he’s stressed like this? They make one mistake and they’re as good as dead.

(They better pray he won’t kill them, because we know he can 🙏🏻)

But anyway. When he finally, finally gets them out, his anxiety goes away, but his paranoia does not. For the next couple days, maybe a week, he’s convinced that they saw something. A tiny blood stain on a wall, something just… off about the animatronics, really anything.

Every day, every time someone walks in the door, he has to look to see who it is because he’s convinced the cops are back and they’re coming to arrest him. The other workers get rather freaked out when he just stares at the door for long periods of time. (When I tell you he’s paranoid, I mean it)

It almost definitely drives him mad (I am so funny) and he thinks about, uh… having another kid go “missing”, before the logical part of his brain takes over and realizes that is just one more thing that will give the cops reason to come back for something more than just a lunch break visit.

And then, when he doesn’t see them back again for a while, he returns to his regular schedule. The employees, if no one else, are glad he’s back to normal.

Maybe, just maybe, after another week or so of no unsolicited police visits, he’ll let out all his frustration from that week and finally have his way with the chainsaw.

[christinesficrecs]

Hey! I love your blog and hopefully you or one of your followers can help me find this fic… What I remember is that Stiles could do some sort of magic that brought dead people back to life for a brief time (as ghosts maybe?) and he did it for a job or something. Derek came to ask him to bring back Laura (or Talia I can’t remember which) but it takes a lot out of stiles so he was slowly dying or something? I’m sorry that’s not much to go on but thanks for the help!!

Hey! It sounds like this one.

You Only Live Once...or Twice by WonderWolf | 32.9K | Explicit

“Anything,” Derek’s eyes are determined, boring into Stiles’.

Stiles huffs a laugh, “Careful there, big guy. Don’t want to be promising anything to every necromancer you meet. Some might ask for your soul or someth—”

“I’ll give you my soul to bring her back,” Derek says, his voice steady and strong with resolve, “if that’s what you want.”

Stiles’ mouth gapes open for a moment before his brain kicks into gear and he stutters out, “N-no, I don’t ask for that. I only ask for money.”

(Or the one in which Stiles is a necromancer who needs help stopping a rogue alpha and Derek is the solution, but at what cost?)

A lovely follower also suggested this one.

Dead Things by standinginanicedress | 89.1K | Explicit

Derek blows some more smoke out. He chooses to look at Stiles’ mouth instead of in his eyes, again. “I need you to bring someone back.”

“Back.”

“From the dead.”

“Absolutely not,” Stiles scoffs, shaking his head. “Not for you, not for all the money in the world.”

Derek looks at him, just looks. He is not going to accept no for an answer, and Stiles knows it, but it doesn’t matter, because Stiles will not do that. He cannot do that, not again. “Why not for me in specific?”

[msm-tsotmw]

6.18.20XX

Hi ! It’s Toorie , And I Just Wanted To Apologize For The Lack Of Posting 😅

I’m Just Hanging Out With My Friends Under The Monstralis , Having A Good Time !

Anyways , Sprigg , Mauna And Moperetta Have Been Gone For A Concerningly Long Time … I Hope They’re Okay !

yea

hopefully they arent dead or some shit

… Dead ??

we havent gotten any calls or messages from them recently

I Mean , They’re In A Cave , So The Reception Might Be Crappy-

it looks like the reception is pretty decent, actually.

… What ?

i mean, we all share a blog, right?

uh

yeah

turns out, sprigg’s been posting basically as much as we have.

oh cool

wait what

jeeo, can you tell ‘em what they’ve been doing down there? I’m gonna go get a cookie.

alright, sure!

(Flitz flies away, leaving Jeeo, Toorie and Mondo with each other.)

?

uh

(He fiddles with his claws.)

so, ummmmmmmm… apparently, sprigg got attacked.

WHAT ??

WH

luckily, they weren’t harmed!! mauna, moperetta, and some kid named bister helped them out.

Oh , Phew .

yea phew

wait who the fuck is bister

ummm, apparently this whiz-bang who washed up on faerie and ended up here on light?

that’s all i know, but they seem to be getting along pretty well with moperetta and mauna, who sprigg is apparently calling “m&m” now.

M&M ! That’s A Cute Nickname !

seems like something id call them ngl

yeah, uh, sprigg was thinking about you guys when they came up with that nickname.

oh cool

That’s Nice ! Where Are They Now ?

um…

(Toorie stares at Jeeo intently.)

lost in a really big crevice.

Oh

WAIT , WHAT ?!?

HOLY SHIT ARE THEY OKAY

yeah, they are!

oh thank glaishur

Whew , Thank Torrt …

however, they’re super lost right now, and they’re wandering around waiting for someone to find them.

oh ok

Well ? Let’s Go Find Them ! They Need Our Help .

but what about flitz? we’ve gotta wait for her to get back.

Oh Yeah

Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight .

(Everyone turns to face Flitz, who has returned holding a batch of cookies in her talons.

hey, guys!

oh, there they are!

so, uh, do you guys know about—

Yeah ! We’re Gonna Go Find Them !

wait what

Flitz , Can You Go Tell My Sisters ?

uh, okay??

(Flitz flies away to go tell Crysta and Ritika about where Toorie and co. are going.)

okaaaaaaay, let’s just wait for her, then.

hey uhhh toors

Mhm ?

can i talk to you for a sec

Yeah ! What Is It ?

uhhhhh

are you sure about this

because its probably super dangerous down there

like

its literally pitch black and theres rocks EVERYWHERE

we might trip and fall on smth or even break a fucking bone

Relax , Mondo ! We Can Bring This To Light The Way .

what if we starve

Uhh , Flitz Can Bring Cookies ?

Why Are You Even Worrying So Much In The First Place ? This Isn’t Exactly Like You …

oh

uh

well

its kinda complicated

but uhhh

can we talk a little quieter bcs i dont like other monsters listening to me talking abt this

Sure ! Go Ahead .

uhh

when i was like idk 15 or something one of my buddies dared me to explore a cave

i said no so he went in there instead

and uh

he never came out

Oh .

then i went in there and uh

all i found was his scarf

and nothing else

Oh .

That’s … Scary .

yeah

thats why i dont go in caves

(The two exchange a silence which lasts for like 50 seconds before Toorie suddenly hugs Mondo.)

wha

huh

why are you hugging me

I Just Felt Like You Needed One .

oh uh

..

thanks

(Mondo hugs her back, not knowing that Flitz has flown back. She lands next to Jeeo.)

oh, they are SO in love.

what?

they’re in love, Jeeo! pretty sure that’s kinda obvi-

HEY

We Heard That , Y’know !

flitz!

sorry, but you can’t fight the obvious.

(Mondo buries his face in his hands, embarrassed, then does the Shinji pose on a rock. Toorie bends down to pat him on the back.)

Hey , Flitz ?

yeah?

I Almost Forgot , Can You Get Some Of Our Stuff In My Sisters’ House ? We’re Probably Gonna Need It When In The Cave .

alrighty!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

yea

toorie and mondo were too stupid to check the other posts for whatever tf Sprigg was doing lol

(they’re t4t girlfailure x malewife bimbo x himbo and they comfort each other. funny yet wholesome ship dynamics my beloved 👍)

-Mod Jimmy 🗣️

[dark-and-kawaii]

I was on a hiatus and when I come back I see you’ve returned from the dead??! I’ve been here since the start along with the drunk smut stories. Glad to see you back kiwi 🥝- 🍻

Shut up!!! Can I just say, like genuinely, I didn’t think I’d come back to people… like I’ve never thought highly of my writings if I’m being honest. So to come back and see people actually happy I’m back, i don’t even know how to express my feelings on it. I just never thought it would happen (`°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥ω°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥｀) *cries*

Pffffhahahaha!!!!!!

Omg!!!! I remember when I would go to parties/weddings, get drunk, and hide in the bathroom just to write smut for you and everyone else *laughs and bangs hand on table* ⊹⋛⋋( ՞ਊ ՞)⋌⋚⊹

Hopefully I can bring it all back and we can all enjoy ourselves again!!!

Thank you for sticking with this blog xoxo *blows kiss*

- 𝐿𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝒦𝒾𝓌𝒾 𝓍𝑜𝓍𝑜

[mxdam]

Here's something, while I'm deep diving into the Sacred Texts™ (my 200+ old headcanons). Something that's present but not directly addressed in the text of the movie is Margarethe + the Gaze. I talked about this here on my old blog.

The tl;dr of those bullet points is that the gaze of the camera, as well as the gaze of Margarethe herself, is always utilized to emphasize Margarethe's separation, isolation, and to a certain extent, voyeurism. Her entrance into the movie shows us her back before it shows us her face. When she turns to face the camera, she is wearing a literal veil of netting.

Even at this moment of apparent revelation, there is a layer between Margarethe and the viewer. The distance between us and the character is emphasized by (as I've harped on many times) the fact that, canonically, she has no first name. We only know/relate to her through her marital and familial relationships. There is always a sense of separation between us and her core.

The emphasis on distance, veiling and seeing is a part of the treatment of original Tremaine, as well. She, too, is a voyeur separated from the heart of family life, caught on the outside (or in this case, on the inside) and apart from the world of Ella and her father.

(The idea of her being trapped inside the house is a big part of Margy T.B. and the Female Gothic, the series which I will hopefully be finishing this weekend 🥹)

The act of looking, as a viewer, is meant to lessen distance between us and the subject. This is what makes certain scenes in movies or certain images in paintings feel uncomfortable to watch; witnessing these things closes the gap between us and the subject and encourages us to place ourselves in their shoes. But the film repeatedly shows us that seeing Margarethe means to be at a remove from her. We are not allowed in.

That said, there is a way that the act of looking does function as a mode of identification in the movie:

In a headcanon on ye old blog, I compiled the following screenshots of Margarethe looking at Ella.

In the headcanon in question, I sort of blindly bumble through some questions about what Margarethe is feeling in these moments, but for whatever reason, Young Me (from 2016!) confined the following observation to the tags: that Margarethe is not glowering at Ella here; she's looking at her almost neutrally. Appraisingly or sharply in a few, and almost curiously in others. In the middle right, her expression is almost soft. (This particular screencap is from a deleted scene where Ella is packing her dead father's things, and folds over weeping on the floor.)

I am absolutely, 100% certain this is a deliberate acting choice on Cate's part. (like, we're talking about Cake Blanket. She doesn't do stuff half-assed.) This is unequivocally meant to communicate something about Margarethe's feelings toward Ella. What she feels toward her is not fiery-hot rage or loathing, though certainly Ella can bring those emotions out of her. What it always comes back to, for me, is this:

Margarethe identifies with Ella. This is the gaze that closes the gap between viewer and subject. She does not hate her. She feels a condescending disdain for Ella's morality and apparent simplicity; she's disgusted by her goals and mores, and considers her boring and unsuitable as a sister to her two daughters. But there is a core part of her that relates deeply to Ella and sees herself reflected in her. When Ella is grieving, Margarethe doesn't laugh or smile. When Ella is falling into her trap, Margarethe isn't necessarily having fun.

Margarethe's gaze reveals this in more than one way. In the scene where she sells Ella to the Grand Duke, telling him, "Do with her what you will. She's nothing to me," she has tears in her eyes.

She is conscious here that on some level, she is selling her Self. She is giving up to an unknown fate a helpless, abused girl--as Margarethe was once, herself, a helpless, abused girl, and has now, multiple times, sold herself into an unknown fate, first by marrying Francis, then by marrying Ella's father. She has created her own double by abusing Ella as she herself, Margarethe, was once abused, and now she is throwing her away; she is throwing away the chance for her own redemption and her own opportunity to do the right thing--or even simply to amend her own genuine wrongdoing--toward a person who has never deliberately harmed her in any way.

It would be easy to take Margarethe's moments of Looking as moments where she is polishing and sharpening her hatred of Ella--but that's not what's happening. In a way, Margarethe can't resist looking at Ella, because it's like looking into a funhouse mirror, or through a mirror into Wonderland; she is seeing a version of herself that never was, a person she couldn't imagine being, and yet--wasn't she young like that, too? Didn't she used to be beautiful? And wasn't she hurt by somebody, the way she is hurting Ella now? Why is it that Ella can keep going as she is, whole and good, when Margarethe couldn't? Why can't she see her wither, fade, grow cold, grow cruel, as Margarethe herself did? What does it mean that under her gaze, Ella is always just Ella--that Ella never truly becomes her mirror, never becomes the next Margarethe?