#inneres Loch

[croakingravenstudio]

“A Break in the Rain at Loch Brittle.”

Pastel on smooth, white 300gsm paper, approx 102mm x 113mm.

We’d been confined to our tent all day as it had been raining heavily. Then just before sunset the rain stopped and we celebrated with a walk along the loch, thanking the weather gods.

[schnaf]

.

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

pt XVI good omens season 2 (still not traumatic) episode 3 EDINBURGH

HELLO IT'S ME IT'S THE OFFICIAL GOOD OMENS MASCOT WHY DO I STILL KEEP INTRODUCING MYSELF IDK. If you don't know who I am, thank God and Satan for their mercy and flee. Also, the day after I post this, I'll be watching the last three episodes on livestream for the first time so. You know. I'm hyped on the energy of this being my last day not enveloped in tears. Take the summary:

Before the episode starts, someone asks why Crowley said in the last episode that Aziraphale couldn't fall because look at him, all angelic when Crowley looked the same as starmaker. I reply that "Crowley thinks he deserved it, he sees Azi as something beautiful and untouched while he probably sees himself as idk marked in some way so god kicked him down."

I am told that I am learning too fast to weaponise the narrative to induce angst. So then I say oh, I go too fast for you. Tears ensue.

The episode begins! Everyone shrieks about Edinburgh, David Tennant, how it is their favourite episode, and SCOTTISH CROWLEY.

We open with lesbians being gay, and then Muriel enters as Inspector Constable! They are very sweet and very determined to do their job right, and they are adopted by Crowley and Aziraphale just like Jim.

Crowley sits on Aziraphale's chair's arm. The maggots all swoon.

Fine, I also swooned.

Aziraphale gaslight-gatekeep-girlboss-mansplain-manipulate-manwhores his way into getting Crowley to give him the Bentley keys (BOUNDARIES. BOUNDARIES.).

WHAT PLENTY OF USE DO BOTH OF YOU GET OUT OF THE BOOKSHOP?

The really ineffable plan is whatever the fuck was happening in Aziraphale's brain when he somehow went from London to Edinburgh via Loch Ness (check the map) and then proceeded to disguise himself as a detective who pretends to be a journalist.

Crowley slays in sleeve garters and a cardigan keeping house in the bookshop meanwhile, does not sell books, instead cleans with Jimbriel and periodically yeets book stacks into corners when distracted.

Aziraphale reads his old diary entries about Crowley, a (6000+) 13 year old with a crush.

MINISODE MINISODE. They are in Edinburgh during the mid 1800s. Victorian outfits, check. Scottish Crowley, check. Capitalist Karen Aziraphale, che-wait what.

Huh. Well. There's a wee bit of body snatchin' going on, to sell to doctors for medical research because there aren't enough murderers, and to make enough money to survive.

Aziraphale channels his inner capitalist judgemental Karen and ruins that plan, come on Aziraphale you have religious trauma but you're better than this, and long story short, Wee Morag dies after Aziraphale realises his error, her friend Elspeth has to sell her corpse for pennies, and is about to commit suicide with laudanum. Azi, oh god. I'm glad you underwent character development at least.

NOW CROWLEY HERE SLAYS. I KNOW THIS IS AZIRAPHALE'S PERSPECTIVE AND IS BIASED. BUT WITH THIS POV, CROWLEY SLAYS.

He calmly educates Aziraphale about how his whole "the poor have more opportunities and you shouldn't give them money or they'll lose the virtue of poverty" is absolute bullshit, and he does this understanding Aziraphale's situation and not losing his temper.

The framing. The framing of the shot when they see Wee Morag and Elspeth sitting down on a step and explaining their situation. Aziraphale stands above, bustling with righteousness, and judges them. Crowley sits down. He sits down next to them, rather than taking the high ground. He meets them where they are and empathises. It is the fact that he is fallen and damned that makes him behave really divine and sorry I wrote a whole hymn on him have it I'll stop rambling just know I love him.

I think his amusement is a facade so hell won't think he's genuinely being good. I think he's morally grey and incredibly brave and kind.

When Elspeth is bouta kill herself with the laudanum, Crowley grabs it and drinks it himself, and grows tiny and then huge, absolutely high off his head. David Tennant takes the opportunity to travel Scotland from east to west in terms of accent variety.

He gives us the good message of NO DYIN'. NO MORE DYIN'. IT'S NOT ON. And then forces Aziraphale (who doesn't want to ruin her virtuous poverty) to give the girl all the guineas he has in his pocket, and tells her to go off and start a farm or something. BUT NOT JUST PRETENDY GOOD, BE PROPERLY GOOD.

He then gets pulled into hell. To be punished for this. Aziraphale is frightened and heartbroken for him, looking around desperately, and we find out that Crowley didn't meet him for a while after. And later he wanted holy water. To protect himself? He got punished by hell. For how long? The whole month in between the incident and the diary entry? There can't be anyone better at punishment and cruelty than hell.

Sorry I'm just screaming here.

Never mind fuck I started this summary really happy and bouncy and listening to a dance playlist. Dionysus by BTS and Italian pop is still playing and now I'm crying.

Is this the natural progression. Fuck I'm crying. Sorry guys something else happens with Aziraphale politely talking to a phone and Crowley smiling really beautifully while unsuccessfully trying to manipulate two lesbians into a relationship and something about a visit I don't care everyone's being morally dubious as usual and then lovely Scottish music outro I CAN'T FUCKING ELABORATE I'M SITTING HERE CRYING OVER CROWLEY.

right summary done, time to go sob, lmao i thought i wouldn't cry today over good omens HAHAHAHA still not traumatic eh HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

[cooliestghouliest]

PUTTY, chapter three

(chapter one), (chapter two), (chapter three)

PAIRING: virgin!Eddie/former cheerleader!Reader

SUMMARY: You and Eddie go to a party.

SERIES TAGS and C/W’s: mutual pining, experienced!Reader, inexperienced!Eddie but he’s eager to learn, mostly sub!Eddie, insecurities and self doubt, narcissistic and/or absent parents, jealousy, mean basketball players, hurt/comfort, they smoke weed, eventual smut (18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI), uniform kink, dirty talk, foot jobs, hand jobs, oral (f!receiving and m!receiving), public sex, sex toys, unprotected PiV. more to be added as this progresses!!!

WORD COUNT: 5.4k+

TAG LIST: @emma77645, @aliciabb17, @gracieluvthemoon, @kellsck, @figmentofquinn, @mediocredreams

—

Parked on the crowded street a block away from Chrissy Cunningham’s massive Loch Nora home, Eddie sat fidgeting with his hands in his lap. The van was idled. He made no attempts to unbuckle himself, so you turned in your seat to assess him.

Down the road, the yard was full of teenagers, the party seemingly having spilled over from the house to the entire property. Eddie was observing the attendants with a narrowed gaze, almost suspiciously.

You were starting to feel bad for dragging him along.

“Eddie, you don’t have to come in. I’ll just go say hi to Chrissy, and then we can go do something else, if you want,” you suggested, voice soft.

He very much wanted that.

But he knew you were hoping to spend some time around your best friend, and with how often you babysat for Olly nowadays, Eddie assumed you hadn’t had much availability for a social life lately.

He didn’t want to be the reason you missed an opportunity to have fun.

He briefly thought of telling you he was just going to head back to the trailer and for you to enjoy your time at the party, but you’d invited him, and you’d seemed so ecstatic when he’d agreed.

And truthfully, the idea of ditching you there gave him the same uneasy feelings that going inside the party gave him.

It seemed to be a lose/lose situation.

Tired of battling with himself, Eddie decided he was going to go with the option that allowed him to spend more time with you. Otherwise, he’d have to sulk back to Forest Hills and spend the night overthinking about what you were up to. And who you were talking to.

Eddie wasn’t used to the feeling of possession that curled in his stomach at the thought of other guys trying to get with you.

For a brief moment, he let his doubts swirl freely in his mind, his badgering inner voice reminding him that he was no rich jock with a full ride to an Ivy League and was instead just a drug dealing super, super senior who did nothing for his professional future except dream of one day making it big with his music.

But from the fervid patience you were awaiting his answer with, Eddie had to shake his head clear of self-deprecation, recalling your earlier conversation where you had said you actually liked spending time with him, and had told him you wanted to attend the party with him – not Andy or Patrick or any of Jason Carver’s other rich boy cronies.

Who was he to deny you your wildest, most incomprehensible wishes?

“No, no, let’s go,” Eddie finally said, turning off the van. He shot you a grin, full of false bravado. “Really, I wanna go.” He didn’t, but he was going to fake it ‘till he make’d it.

You returned the grin without hesitation, eyes filling with relief. For a moment there, you’d half expected Eddie to bail on you. And really, you wouldn't have blamed him, considering being put in this social situation was clearly wreaking havoc in his brain.

Eddie clicked the van locked and pocketed the keys as you tried to sweeten the deal for him, wanting to ease as much worry as you could. You didn’t bring him here to stress him out, you brought him here so you could both have a good time, drinking and laughing without the obligation of watching a six-year-old.

“I think Steve might be here,” you offered, knowing the pair had become quite close.

If Eddie were to be honest, hearing Harrington might also be there did make him feel better.

Dustin had introduced them to one another the year prior. While they didn’t mesh at first, essentially polar opposites, the two bonded when they’d both impromptu taken edibles together.

It happened one movie night at Nancy Wheeler’s.

Eddie brought his own brownie stash and had accidentally left them out on the kitchen counter. Steve, thinking Mrs. Wheeler had baked the goods for the get-together, had eaten two before Eddie caught him. He spent the first part of the night talking Steve down out of a panic attack, and then they spent the second part of the night laughing their asses off, laying in Nancy’s pool fully clothed, floating on almost airless rafts.

They’d been friends ever since.

Something else also made Eddie feel better about heading into the party.

You had grabbed his hand in yours at some point as you made your way up the driveway, your warm fingers interlocking with his own.

For the second time that night, you made him feel invincible.

Like nothing could go wrong.

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

You hadn’t been inside the house two minutes before Chrissy’s voice rang out in the midst of the crowd.

“You made it!” the girl practically yelled, weaving her small frame through the sea of bodies that packed the usually spacious foyer. When she finally made her way to you and Eddie, she wrapped her arms around you in a tight hug, drunkenly swaying side to side and giggling. When Chrissy pulled away, she looked to your side, spotting your companion. “And Eddie! Hi, Eddie!”

Eddie couldn’t help but crack a smile at the bubbly blonde’s welcome. She, like you, had been a rarity at Hawkins High School.

Whereas most of the popular students had either avidly avoided the likes of Eddie or chose to interact with him solely to make his life a living hell, you and Chrissy never negatively singled anyone out. Instead, the two of you would do things like volunteer to be partners with the quietest kids in class for a project, or you’d both sit with new students during lunch until they found their own cliques.

Eddie never understood why either of you willingly chose to spend your free time with the likes of Jason and the rest of the Hawkins sports roster. He chalked it up to you both just playing your predestined roles. Once you fit a certain mold or stereotype in Hawkins, it was pretty hard to branch out from it. Eddie of all people could understand that.

“Hey, Chris,” he greeted, happy she didn’t go to hug him as well. The last thing Eddie needed was Carver thinking he was making moves on his girlfriend.

Actually, the quicker he got away from her, the better. He liked Chrissy, he truly did, but wherever she was, her loverboy was soon to follow, and Eddie didn’t feel like being instigated into a fight right now.

His eyes flitted around the expanse of the house, eventually spotting Steve by the sliding glass back door, standing with Nancy and Jonathan.

Your gaze followed Eddie’s. You hadn’t been totally sure Steve would be there, so you inwardly thanked the universe for small miracles. Now that Eddie could relax in like-minded company, you didn’t feel so bad parting ways with him for a little while. Of course, you wouldn’t have minded if Eddie tagged along by your side the whole night, but you knew he’d dread every minute of having to be around Jason and his buddies, who unfortunately came with the Chrissy package.

“Why don’t you go say hi?” you lightly nudged Eddie’s shoulder with yours, smiling up at him. “I’ll come find you in a little bit.”

Eddie’s chocolate hues dropped to you, a grateful expression on his face at your suggestion. “Don’t leave me hangin’ for too long, sweetheart,” he teased, although he really wasn’t joking at all. “I dunno how long I’ll last around all these big, scary basketball players without my Princess to protect me.” After a dramatic bow, Eddie vanished into the crowd.

Chrissy, beyond inebriated, hadn’t paid much attention to the exchange. With Eddie gone, she pulled on your arm, tugging you away, slurring, “C’mon! Y’have so many shots to drink t’catch up with me!”

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

You really had not planned on getting drunk.

Tipsy, yeah, sure. A few beers, maybe a shot or two of some expensive spirit Mrs. Cunningham had imported from Europe.

But glassy-eyed and giggly, your skin flushed warm, an alcohol-induced pink blush sprouted over the apples of your cheeks?

No, that was not in tonight’s itinerary.

But Chrissy knew you’d been slaving away with work the past few months, hardly finding time in your busy schedule to come see your best friend cheer or link up and spend too much money at Starcourt Mall like you both used to.

You, although the same age as Chrissy, had gotten your diploma a year early, and hadn’t stopped working toward your goal of getting the hell out of Hawkins from the moment you walked across the stage at graduation. At job after job, you would often work overtime and weekends, trying to save up as much as you could.

It was admirable, but there had to be balance, something you were never good at finding on your own.

Damn Chrissy Cunningham for being so persuasive and persistent, wanting her best friend to let loose again and join her on a drunken tirade, similar to those you’d indulged in throughout your time together in high school.

Chrissy had begrudgingly disappeared several minutes earlier after Jason had swept her away. She didn’t want to leave you yet, wanted to spend as much time with you as she could, but she didn’t want to disappoint Jason either. You could see the struggle in her eyes, so you made the decision for her, promising you’d catch up more later in the week.

Plus, while you loved your best friend dearly, right now you felt a drumming deep within you – a desperate sensation. The tequila you’d downed urged you to find Eddie. You wanted to curl up into his side and breathe him in, wanted the aroma of his strawberry blunt wraps and tea-tree mint shampoo to fill your senses.

The party had dwindled down some, but there was still an impressive amount of people stationed all over the house, making it difficult to pinpoint exactly where your long-haired target was hiding out. There was no double vision yet, but you blinked a few times and took a breath to stabilize yourself anyway, not wanting to stumble drunkenly as you walked.

You’d made it as far as the kitchen when two arms branched out around either side of you, a letterman jacket coming into view as your lower back was pressed against the marble of the island counter. A tall male with dark hair and dark eyes smirked down at you, a predator satisfied he’d cornered his prey.

“Hey, you.”

“Hi, Chance,” you answered, not appreciating the personal space he was impeding on. You attempted to move out of his barrier, but he just repositioned his weight, keeping you caged in between his arms.

His breath was hot on your cheek, the smell of beer wafting from him strongly. Everything about him was making your stomach turn. “What’re you doin’ all by yourself?” he asked. “Heard you came with Munson,” pause for a scoff, “but I knew that must’ve been a fucking joke.”

“Why would that be a joke?” you countered, brows furrowed. “I did come here with him.” You moved your gaze from the annoying presence in front of you to scan the room, trying again to find Eddie. “Actually, d’you know where he is?”

“Oh yeah, saw him drawing a pentagram on the sidewalk out front. Think it was in virgin’s blood. He was speaking some other language, too.”

You rolled your eyes, your patience running very thin. You were so sick of people making assumptions and passing judgments just because someone else was different than they were.

You had half a mind to make a snide remark about how the whole town knew Chance Deely’s mom had an affair on his dad with the pastor from the Presbyterian church, and did that mean she must have been worshiping demons too since she did something so immoral and uncouth?

“Ha ha,” you deadpanned, trying again to duck away from his arms.

You took in a sharp breath when you felt Chance’s hand move to grip your waist, pulling your body to his.

“Come on, babe,” he said, the pads of his fingers digging uncomfortably into your clothed skin. “Lemme take you home. I know your daddy likes me. I’m sure I can convince him to let me stay the night…”

What a clueless moron. He didn’t even know you hadn’t lived with your parents for the past year now. But you’d let him keep thinking that, finding solace in the fact that he didn’t know where to find you if the creep ever decided to try and stalk you out one night.

“And do what?” you asked, now emboldened both by your intoxication and the nerve this idiot had cornering you like this. “Have a sleepover with him? I don’t want you, Chance.”

His jaw ticked, his features hardening, undoubtedly in an attempt to make you feel small and scared. You felt neither.

“Get off of me, Deely. I mean it.”

“Or what, huh? You gonna sic your vampire boyfriend on me?”

“No, I’ll fucking bite you myself.”

His eyes flashed and his tongue darted out to wet his lower lip as he considered you, humming in approval.

“Yeah, I’d like to get that mouth on me…”

You rolled her eyes again, so hard this time you wondered if they’d stick. “In your wet dreams, douchebag. Now get. Off.” You tried prying yourself away from him once more, swatting at the hand he had on your waist.

It just made Chance double down, pressing his center against you crudely. “I’m trying to get off, baby,” he said, giving a disgusting pout. “You won’t let me.”

“Do you not know what ‘no’ means, Deely?” a familiar voice interjected from behind Chance.

Your heart swelled as you raised your gaze to find Eddie’s dark eyes glaring daggers at the boy who’d had you cornered. You smiled wide at him, an odd juxtaposition when mixed with Eddie’s beyond irritated expression and Chance’s feeble attempts at seduction (which were more harassments than anything else).

You were so relieved to have this Bambi-eyed boy come to your rescue.

“What I do know is that nobody asked you, Munson,” Chance countered. He still kept his body turned towards yours, much to your dismay. “Why don’t you go and fuck a corpse or something, freak? Leave me –”

But his words were cut off when you brought your knee up to budge as hard as you could in between his legs.

Chance whined loudly, falling to the ground, clutching his hopefully bruised balls in his hands.

The partygoers had been distracted with their own conversations up until that point, but with Chance Deely crying out on the floor, writhing around pathetically, everyone’s attention was on you and Eddie.

“The fuck’s going on in here?” came Jason Carver’s voice over the other loud mumblings in the crowd.

“That's our cue to leave, Princess,” Eddie alerted, grasping your wrist in his hand as he pulled you from the Cunningham residence with haste.

You tossed your head back and laughed, hurriedly following Eddie out.

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

The ride from Chrissy’s place to yours wasn’t long at all. Five minutes, tops.

While Eddie was focused on the road ahead of him, fingers white-knuckling the steering wheel at the thought of Chance Deely’s roaming hands, you were staring intently at your getaway driver.

You watched as his jaw clenched and relaxed, then clenched and relaxed again. He wasn’t doing anything special, just sitting there stewing in inner turmoil, but he was still so, so handsome. Handsome and heroic.

Although you were the one to administer the knee to Chance’s most prized possessions, you knew Eddie wouldn’t have hesitated to do the same and maybe even more to defend you. You thought back to the hateful look in his eyes as he stared the back of Chance’s head down, fists ready to make contact with the stupid fuck’s face if need be.

Eddie’s eagerness to be of service to you, for you, turned you on more than you thought it would. The fuzzy feelings from the alcohol helped loosen your inhibitions, and you found yourself squeezing your thighs together for some sort of friction as Eddie pulled up in front of your apartment.

You watched as he took a deep breath in, eyes shutting momentarily before exhaling and turning his attention to you.

He softened his face, forcing his mouth to curve into a smile. Underneath it all, you could tell he was still buzzing with anger and adrenaline.

“Would you please walk me inside?” you asked, your fingers toying with the hem of your dress. You were trying to appear inconspicuous. “They might know where I live. I’d feel safer if you came up with me.”

‘They’ meant Jason and his friends.

It maybe was a bit of overkill on your part to pull the damsel in distress card. You weren’t afraid of Carver or Deely. For the most part, they were all talk.

It also helped your sense of security that your neighbor across the hall was a police officer, something which Jason was aware of. He’d almost gotten arrested for banging on your door at one in the morning to try to get to Chrissy after the couple had one of their explosive arguments.

Chrissy had found refuge at your apartment a handful of times over the past year, leading Jason to look your address up so he always knew where to find his girlfriend when she ran off.

Each time he came pounding, Officer Hammond would swing open his door and dangle a pair of cuffs in Jason’s direction. It had the blonde boy scurrying away, the fear of an arrest that would hurt his chances at a basketball scholarship dominating his caveman impulse to steal Chrissy away.

Technically, you weren’t lying to Eddie. Although you weren’t scared of Carver and his friends, you would feel safer with Eddie around. Just because.

And fortunately for you, Eddie would never pass up the chance to play protector, especially when it was you who was asking him so nicely.

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

“I can’t believe you kneed him in the nuts, that was fucking hilarious,” Eddie laughed, following you up the stairs to your third-floor apartment.

“I should have twisted them off, but then I would’ve had to touch him.” As an afterthought, you added, “Which, gross.”

“So gross,” Eddie agreed.

Stepping inside your apartment, you immediately kicked off your shoes. Eddie’s eyes dropped to the ground, following your movements, and he noted that you were wearing those cute white ankle socks with the pretty lace ruffle at the top. Those were the kind he remembered you wearing all the time at school, complete with your green, white, and yellow cheer outfit.

The memory of you in that uniform, bouncing up at down at one of the school rallies, had Eddie trying to secretly adjust himself in his jeans.

He he hung back in the doorway, ready to leave.

Eddie’d noticed the rousing stare you’d been giving him in the van. It was a look he’d often shot your way, when he was sure you weren’t paying attention. Full of want and yearning. He hadn’t missed the sight of your thighs pressing together either.

But you’d been drinking. That probably explained away the actions. You just weren’t thinking straight.

Eddie didn’t want to overstep or take advantage, so his plan was to be a gentleman and escort you up, then head back to his van and jerk off to the thought of you begging him to touch you.

You had other ideas.

You reached your hand out and bunched your fingers into his black Iron Maiden band tee, trying to tug him toward you. It wasn’t enough to physically move him, but enough so that he’d get the gist of what you wanted.

“What’re you still doing out there?” you asked, tilting your head down to look up at him through your lashes. Your expression was coy. “You can come inside, Eddie.”

A double entendre if he’d ever heard one. He had to force back a groan as his imagination went wild.

“I shouldn’t,” he tried, hand moving down to grasp yours in an attempt to loosen your grip. Eddie didn’t really want you to let go, though. He wished you’d grab him harder, not give him a choice, pull him inside and have your way with him. Gentleman, gentleman, gentleman, he had to remind himself in his head. “I was just making sure you got up here safe. I should, uh, probably get going… it’s kinda late…”

The pretty pout you shot at him further loosened his resolve to leave, and he felt glued to the spot in your entranceway. “I’m a big girl, Eddie, I don’t have a bedtime. You don’t wanna hang out more?” you asked, fingers tightening in the fabric of his shirt. “Y’know, I wasn’t serious about being afraid of Jason and his boyfriends… it was just a big ploy to get you to come up here with me.” You bit at your lip in an effort to hide a grin, trying to keep the innocent facade playing on your face. “Thought maybe I could show you where I live, since I’m always at yours… and I just rented the new Texas Chainsaw movie. Haven’t watched it yet.”

Eddie found it was getting increasingly harder to say no to you, with your hands on him, pulling him gently toward you. Each word you spoke sounded like it was being sung by a siren.

A movie seemed… safe.

His eyes drifted past you to your living room, where he assumed you’d want to watch it. He was satisfied with the size of the couch. He’d be able to put enough space between the two of you to keep it friendly, because that’s probably what you really wanted, just to be friendly, but the buzz you were still feeling maybe had you thinking you wanted to be a little more than just friendly.

In the morning, Eddie figured you’d probably regret anything you may have ended up trying to do. He promised himself he wouldn’t let you get that far. He figured he’d be able to limit any physical contact by positioning himself at whatever far end of the couch you weren’t on.

He really, really did want to be around you. He just couldn’t for the life of him believe or understand why you were saying you wanted the same thing. Must’ve been the booze.

But he could take advantage of this moment, couldn’t he? Without taking advantage of you? He would just make sure things stayed PG.

“You drive a hard bargain, Princess,” he conceded, giving in and walking inside. He clicked the door shut behind him, happy to have your hand still clinging needy to his shirt. “I can’t say no to a pretty girl who wants to watch Tobe Hooper with me. There’s just one thing that’d make this night even better…”

You rose an inquisitive brow at him. You could think of many, many things that would make this night better, and they all ended with you so fucked out that you couldn’t remember your name and could only remember Eddie’s.

Maybe he was about to finally give you both what you wanted – or, well, what you wanted, and what you had only hoped Eddie wanted, too.

You leaned closer to him, waiting for his suggestion.

“Got any popcorn?”

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

You’d been on the couch with Texas Chainsaw Massacre playing in the background for the past half hour.

While you had ulterior motives and didn’t plan on strictly watching the entire time, Eddie was acting as if this was the greatest movie to have ever been written, his wide eyes almost unblinking as he focused on nothing but the television.

And even though he was also seated on the couch, he still seemed far away, having chosen to sit at the end furthest from you.

You didn’t want to encroach on his personal space, fearful maybe you’d been reading every sign you’d ever thought he’d given you wrong and he in fact wasn’t interested. Had you known for certain he wanted you like you wanted him, you would have been in his lap the second he sat down.

You had to play it a little safer first. Test the waters.

This is how your socked foot ended up in Eddie’s lap.

Totally safe.

The empty bowl of popcorn, which had been resting on one of Eddie’s knees, clattered to the floor when he felt your heel weighed down on his thigh.

Eddie had been forcing his attention to stay focused on the movie, not daring to drift his eyesight to you sprawled out beside him, your tight sundress so far up your legs he knew he’d be able to see your panties if he looked.

His gaze finally shot over to you when you’d made the contact, but you were now the one pretending to be engrossed in the gory horror movie. Eddie could have sworn he saw an uptick in the corner of your mouth when the bowl clattered to the ground, but it was dark and he couldn’t be sure.

Swallowing hard, his eyes dropped down to his lap, watching as your foot flexed and relaxed repeatedly.

The crotch of his jeans felt tight, his heartbeat picking up pace at the thought of you possibly feeling how hard he was growing right now. If you’d just move your foot over one or two more inches, he’d feel the solid warmth of you where he wanted to feel you the most.

How would you react? Would you freak out? You wouldn’t, right? You were playing footsies with his fucking lap, for Christ’s sake. This wasn’t innocent, was it? It couldn’t have been.

“You don’t mind, right?” you asked him, attention still on the TV, forcing nonchalance into your tone. “Feels good to stretch like this. And you’re so warm.”

He was about to respond, was about to say he didn’t mind, not at all; fuck, he’d be anything for you — a footrest, a heater, a guard dog, a servant, a total fucking fool. But when your foot finally met with the bulge forming under his denim, Eddie inhaled harshly, a hand coming up to wrap around your ankle, stopping you.

When he turned to look at you this time, you were staring right back at him.

You were propped up on your elbows now and he could feel you trying to wiggle your foot free.

“Let me, Eddie,” you urged. “Please.”

His grip faltered on your ankle at your pleading, and you took the chance to weasel it out of his hand. You wasted no time tracing the thick outline of him over his jeans with the ball of your foot, the bite of the zipper pressing into his sensitive length causing him to hiss.

You brought your other foot up to join in, using your toes to curl around the girth of him, kneading back and forth.

Those fucking socks, fuck. Eddie already had his fair share of dirty fantasies of you in your cheer uniform – the whole ensemble, head to toe – and he knew he’d now never be able to look at a pair of lacy frilled socks normally ever again.

Eddie groaned, his head falling back against the couch. His eyes fluttered shut but only momentarily before they found you again. You didn’t bother containing your wide grin, your teeth sunk into the softness at the center of your bottom lip.

“Put your hands on them, pet,” he gave another groan at the nickname, “so you can make yourself feel good.”

Eddie’s brain was clouded with desire, and he could feel his face warming at your request.

“I don’t – I mean, um… you’re drunk…” he was stumbling over his words because your feet wouldn’t stop, rubbing and pressing in all the right places.

Your head dipped back with a little laugh. “Not really,” you lied. You were definitely still feeling the effects of a forgotten number of mixed drinks, but that didn’t change the fact that you’d been hoping this was where the night would lead five hours ago. Or even five months ago. Very pre-drunkenness. “And even if I was…” you trailed off momentarily, giving your heel another ground down against his lap. “Was I drunk when I held your hand at the party? Or when I told you earlier how much I liked being around you?”

Eddie thought for a moment before shaking his head. No, you weren’t. Holy shit, so he had read all your signs right. You were interested in him. He wasn’t just imagining all of it.

Okay, fuck. He could work with that. He probably shouldn’t, probably should have stuck to his guns and told you to wait until tomorrow when you were for sure sobered up.

But Eddie was typically an act now, deal with it later type of guy. And right now, he was finding it very hard to be any different.

He’d never done anything like this before, had never even gotten much further than just making out, but Eddie didn’t let his self-doubt rule at the forefront of his mind for once.

Not tonight.

Not with your feet in his lap and your voice telling him the dirty things you wanted him to do. Not when his upstairs brain was closing up shop, tossing the keys to his confined cock.

“Wanna make you feel good, too,” he said, hands finding your ankles again. He didn’t halt their movements this time. Now he encouraged them to move, slowly beginning to rock his hips up into the soles of your feet.

With that admission, you realized you weren’t just projecting your own desires when you’d catch him staring at you through the kitchen window while you played with Olly out front; when he’d put his hands on your waist as he passed by you in the trailer’s cramped hallway; when he’d lick his lips and watch your own as you talked to him about some minor detail from your day.

Eddie wanted you, too.

And with how fucking hard he was, you realized he wanted you bad.

Your head lolled to one side as you observed him. “I wanna watch you use me ‘till you’re about to come.” The TV wasn’t too far away, and with the relatively bright scene on the screen at the moment, you could tell he was hanging off of your every word. You could feel him tightening his grip around the width of your feet, pulling them down harder against him. “If you’re a good boy and stop before you get all messy, then maybe I’ll let you make me feel good, too.”

Eddie’s brows furrowed in equal parts desire and disbelief at your words, his parted lips forming the shape of an ‘O’. It was all he could do to nod wordlessly, feeling dumb in the best kind of way, his eyes not wavering from yours once as he got to work.

[seeingivy]

ahhh congrats on 1K!! you deserve it all :D

for your concert, may I suggest got my mind set on you for eren with a friends to lovers type trope? like maybe eren has a bit of a past as a fuckboy and realizes now that he's in love with his friend. she doesn't believe him given his history, so he is determined to woo her, but really he just needs to show her that he's serious about her (because she has already loved him this whole time hehe). OR whatever you want to do!!

got my mind set on you

eren x f!reader

**part of my debut concert event

content: drinking, reader gets her periods and leaks on her sheets, eren is a manwhore, hitch is a hater, jean and marco are masterminds

an: thank you sweet sweet anon! you deserve all the love in the world. I hope you like it <333

--

“Y/N. White wife-beater or black wife-beater?” 

You peek up from the top of your textbook to glare at him and he has that stupid, stupid grin on his face. The one he uses to get anything he wants. 

“Man. At this point you’re just trying to sound like an asshole.” mutters Jean, taking Armin’s pillow and smacking it straight into his face. 

Mikasa and Armin laugh in response, agreeing as Eren makes his way over to you, flopping on his bed next to you. He’s leaning directly into your space, that musky cologne enveloping your nose as he starts talking. 

“Y/N.” 

“Eren.” 

“Black or white?” 

“Ass or face?” 

“What?” 

“Do you want me to punch you in the ass or in the face?” 

He laughs as he bends over, sticking the aforementioned ass into your space as he knocks your textbook out of your hands and you push him away. And you try to fight the smile trying to make its way on to your face, trying to feign as much anger as you can. 

But you can’t be mad at Eren. You can’t be anything but a jumbled mess of feelings at Eren lately. 

When you moved to college, you were looking forward to getting a fresh start from the town that you grew up in. Not that it was ever a bad place but it was never really a good place either. And you were ready to let it all go, to move away from your parents, to find out who you were. 

And just your luck, the one boy from your highschool going to the same college as you ends up in your orientation group and never leaves you alone after that. Dragging you to random club meetings for free food, taking you to mixers that your RA hosted, trying to sneak into frat parties together. 

At some point, you were just always together. And maybe some small part of you really liked having him around. That he wanted to be your best friend, told you all the little inner workings of his mind instead of someone else. That he thinks the Loch Ness Monster is made up, that he likes the Twilight movie soundtracks a little bit too much, that he loves mystery books. 

And he’s dorky - snorts when he laughs too hard, can’t drink beer without spilling it all over his shirt, and is so weirdly passionate about these little sea animals that he’s spending the entire summer doing an internship at the marine biology research lab at your university. 

But he’s also sweet - trying to memorize all the little facts about you, picking you up from class as a habit, telling you that you’re prettier than some shit guy who won’t come by. 

He’s your friend. Your sweet, secret little dorky friend. No one looks at you. But no one looks at him either. Maybe you guys only look at each other. 

Except when you come back from the summer, his dork is replaced with…charm. Charisma, an appeal, a magnetism. And maybe he was always really charming, but no one paid attention to it. It was just for you. 

But now they do - because he’s grown out his soft brown hair into this sunkissed loose man bun and spending all summer swimming in tidepools has defined his muscles. Because he was always gangly and a little awkward but one summer has him looking fit, in all the right places. 

That’s when it starts raining on your parade. Because when you and Eren go to parties, you’re talking to him less and the girl who's drunk and throwing up in the bathroom more. He’s too busy talking to the pretty girls, twirling their locks of hair in his hands and batting his pretty eyelashes at them. 

And he still picks you up from class with an iced coffee in hand, except the barista scribbled her name over your cup because she wants Eren to call her later. And you know Eren leans into it, because this newfound attention only gives him confidence to show off more. 

To tell girls about the creepy little slugs he spent all summer looking for so they can coo over how cute it is that he cares, to show off those ridiculously defined muscles, to gleam at people the way he does. 

You’re interrupted by your train of thought as Historia, the girl Eren met at a club meeting knocks on the door, shining sunlight at Eren as she smiles at him. And when he flicks the top of your forehead and stands up to press a kiss to her cheek and run out with her, you stick your face back into your textbook. 

And pretend it doesn’t sting. 

You peer over your notebook again to find Jean hanging upside down on the bunk, his eyes staring into yours. 

“Hi Y/N.” 

“Hi Jean. The blood is rushing to your head. You look like an overly ripe tomato.” 

He laughs as he flops off the bunk and next to you, leaning his head in to read your textbook. 

“A tort is a civil law that causes a claimant to suffer loss or….this shit is so fucking boring.” 

He snatches the textbook away from your clutches and flings it off the bed, giving an innocent smile as he does. 

“I was reading that.” 

“And now you’re not!” 

“Do you want something from me, Jean?” 

“Yeah. Let’s go on a date.” 

“You have a boyfriend.” 

“Yeah. It was his idea.” 

He pulls you up by the wrists as you both shuffle out of Armin and Eren’s dorm room, giving half-hearted goodbyes to Mikasa and Armin as he dragged you back to your hal. Trying to convince you to go on a date with him. 

“No.” 

“Listen. You make this mopey sad face whenever he brings a girl around. It’s really ugly.” 

“Thanks, Jean. You’re such a gentleman.” 

He pinches the bridge of his nose as he swings your door open, the two of you flopping onto your bed. 

“I just mean- I hate that you wait around for him. And Marco does too. I think it would be nice. For me to take you out, to make you feel special, to remind you that you don’t have to hopelessly pine over that idiot and wait for him to look at you back.” 

“Jean, I just-” 

He stands up, locking his fingers with yours, as he tries to use his boyish charm on you. And it’s entirely different from Eren’s. Where Eren oozes pure charisma, like you can’t help but give in because you just want to know what he’s getting at. 

Jean’s charm is more…boyish. Innocent. Because he’s smiling at you, all soft and genuine. Like you want to give in because you know he means well. It’s sweet. So you agree.

--

“Eren.” 

“Hm?” 

“Pink dress or white skirt?” 

You hold up the options as Eren looks at you for the first time - even though he’s been in your dorm for the past three hours texting Historia in your bed - and squints at you. 

“Are you wearing makeup?” 

“Yeah. I’m going on a date.” 

He stands up, placing his hands on your cheek as he moves your face around in the air, taking in the product on your face. A soft glitter on your eyelids, black around your eyes that makes your eyes look infinitely bigger, and soft pink on the tops of your cheeks. 

“With who?” 

“Well, Jean for now. But it’s practice before I start going on real dates you know?” 

“You’re going on dates? Why?” 

You roll your eyes as you turn back in the mirror, holding up the options to your frame as you weigh what to wear. 

“Because. I want to get out there and I’m like…deeply touch starved or whatever. I just want someone told hold me or something. And it feels weird to do it cold turkey so Jean’s taking me.” 

“You could have asked me. I could take you.” 

You roll your eyes as you push past him, reaching for your flowery perfume that you spray on for special occasions. Eren’s leaning against your bedpost, his eyes scrunched up in frustration that for some reason is really annoying you. 

“You have a girlfriend.” 

“Hisu’s not my girlfriend. We’re just talking.” 

“Okay, yeah. Same thing.” 

“Jean has a boyfriend.” 

“This was Marco’s idea, Eren. He’s not going to care if I actually go on it and I think he’s probably the one who bought the flowers Jean’s going to bring me.” 

You hold the two options up in the air again, boring your eyes into Eren’s as you gesture for him to respond again. 

“I’m not picking.” 

“I literally pick your date outfits for you all the time. You could pick for me.” 

And Eren mutters something that sounds like pink under his breath which you smile brightly at as you duck into your closet to slip the dress on. And when it’s all fresh and pressed against your skin, there’s a knock on your door and a very smiley Jean waiting for you. 

As you predicted, he’s holding a pretty bouquet of pink flowers in his hand, wearing a nice buttoned up shirt as opposed to his usual lame t-shirts. 

“Hi. Don’t you look pretty?” 

He reaches for your wrist and lifts your hand up to spin you around, the pleats of your dress whooshing in the air and a stupid laugh falling out of your lips. 

“Jean. You’re laying it on a little thick there.” 

He shakes his head dismissively as he places the bouquet on your desk, giving a small nod to Eren as he walks back to you, pinching the side of your cheek. 

“You’re getting the full Jean Kirschtein experience. I have to set the bar high so you don’t settle for a whole idiot or anything.” 

And Eren watches you and he hates it. That he has this angry, green little monster simmering in his chest. That you’re smiling at Jean, that he’s taking you on a date to set your standards, that you’re wearing a pretty dress and laughing with someone who isn’t him. 

And he knows it’s wrong. That he has no right to be jealous when he’s talked to other girls ever since the summer ended while you’ve remained steadfast and true. And it wasn’t like you were staying true to him because Eren’s positive that you don’t feel that obligation, that loyalty to him, but some part of him feels like you do. Or wishes that you do. 

But suddenly…he’s feeling it for you. That he shouldn’t be with anyone but you, that he’s the person who should be taking you on cute dates, twirling you around in pretty dresses, having you spread glitter all over your face for him. 

Eren texts Historia as he watches you and Jean duck out the door. 

“Uh huh, Kirschtein. I’m sure this is gonna be the best date of my life.”

“That’s a promise, baby girl.” 

“Ew. Baby girl?” 

“Do you prefer sweetheart instead?” 

“You’re so fucking corny, Jean.”  

And when the door closes, he sends the text. 

I want to see other people. Sorry Hisu.  

--

You return from your date with Jean to find Eren slumped over in your bed, typing away on his laptop. Your roommate, Hitch, is glaring bloody murder at you as she flits her eyes over to his direction. 

“Eren.” 

“Ah. You’re back. How was it?” 

“What are you doing in my room? I left hours ago.” 

“Just wanted to see you when you got back. And I was spending time with my best friend, Hitch. She’s just so riveting to talk to and I just love her so much.” 

She throws her portable fan at his head, which he catches before it makes contact and then throws it back at her.

“I’ll walk you back to yours, Eren. And you’re buying Hitch coffee as an apology.” 

He rolls his eyes as he grabs his bag, blowing fake kisses to Hitch as she flips him off. You’re both trodding through the hall, the building quiet. It’s Friday night. Everyone’s partying. 

“Didn’t want to party tonight, Eren?” 

“Nah. Didn’t feel like it. How was your date?” 

You smile as you twiddle with your fingers. 

It was nice. To feel special, to have someone tell you that you were pretty. And sure he didn’t mean it in that way and it was entirely platonic, but it was nice to have someone look at you. Who wants to make you feel special, try to coax you into doing things you don’t usually do. 

And you’re positive it’ll feel even better when the feelings are reciprocated. 

“Really nice, Eren. I’m excited to…meet people. Date them. Have someone make me feel special, tell me I’m pretty.” 

“You’re pretty.” 

You look over to find Eren’s cheeks burning pink, the tips of his ears red as he avoids eye contact with you. 

“Thank you?” 

“Ye-yeah. Sure.” 

You make it to Eren’s door and he swings the door open, dragging you in by the wrist. From the looks of it, Armin’s not home, Eren’s desk light flickering on the desk. He drags you to his bed, the two of you sitting on his plush duvet. 

“Eren. I was just walking you here. I’m kind of tired from the painting.” 

“You went painting?” 

“Yeah. It was like a pottery type thing. We picked out mugs and just painted on them. Talked about stuff. Shared an ice cream together after. Jean and Marco gave me very sweet kisses on the cheek when I dropped him back off to his dorm.” 

Eren pushes his hand through his hair as he asks, the question making the air in his throat burn. 

“Ah. Would you ever…go on a date with me?” 

And you laugh. Quite literally laugh, because he cannot be serious. 

“God, Eren. Don’t be a cliche right now.” 

“What?” 

“You see your best friend go on a date with another guy and suddenly you’re interested in her. It’s like every corny rom-com.” 

You lean forward, pinching the plush of his cheek. 

“You just want what you can’t have, Eren. I’ve been waiting for you to notice me for two years. And of course, you only look at me when you can’t have me.” 

“Wait, but I-” 

“Eren. I want someone who makes me feel special. And you’ve always been special to me, but I want to be special to someone too. Let’s not make our friendship weird. And hey, maybe we can actually be equals this time.” 

“Equals?” 

“Two people who care about each other the same amount. Not one person hopelessly pining over the other.” 

You give his cheek one last pinch as you pad out his door, giving him a smile before you slam the door shut. 

--

The next morning, Eren’s standing outside your Civil Law lecture with a coffee in hand. And a shy smile pressed across his face. 

“Good morning, Y/N.” 

“Hi Eren.” 

Despite your admission of your feelings and your swift rejection of Eren, he’s still standing here. And you were expecting it, because you know that Eren wasn’t really saying any of that in earnest. And it’s nice to admit your feelings, as a way of letting them go before you give in and like someone else. 

You take the cup from his hand and shove the much needed caffeine into your mouth, the two of you strolling to your next class. You look over to find Eren with a pinched look on his face, like he’s constipated. 

“Eren.” 

“Hm?” 

“Cat got your tongue? What’s wrong with you?” 

“You didn’t…look at the cup.” 

You look back down at the cup to find handwriting scribbled on it in green sharpie. 

you look pretty today, sweet girl 

You laugh, holding it up in the air. 

“No way. The barista called you a sweet girl? It’s that long ass hobo hair you have.” 

“What? That wasn’t the barista, that was me!” 

“You wrote on the cup? Why?” 

“For you, stupid! I’m trying to romance you.” 

You spit the coffee straight into your cup, looking back down at the cup again. And holy shit he’s right - the way the g is looped and the writing is slanted, it really is Eren’s handwriting. 

“Eren.” 

“What?” 

“It’s cute. But you’re going to do it for like one week. And then get bored of waiting and see some pretty girl at a party and change your mind.” 

“I’m not! You’re it for me.”

“Eren. Bullshit. You wouldn’t last a month.” 

He leans forward, pressing you into the hard of the wall as he looks down, green eyes glinting in yours. 

“Bet.” 

“What?” 

“I’ll bet on it. Prove it to you. That I’ve got my mind set on you.” 

“Uh huh. That takes a lot of patience, Eren. Time. Something that’s never been your forté.” 

“I’ll make it my forté, if it’s for you.” 

You give into the bet. A month for Eren to romance you, to prove that he’s really only got his mind set on you. 

You give in because you know you’ll win. He gives in because he wants to prove the stupid, silly girl he loves that he can do it right. 

--

eren: good morning silly little woman. fit check pls :D 

you: no. 

eren: cmon. ive got back to back classes and im missing that cute little face of yours :((( 

you: just ask ur hoes. im sure they’re cute too. 

eren: no hoes. im allergic to gardening. 

you: you should start stand up comedy. you’d be really good at it.  

eren: you want me so bad 

you: shut up

eren: im waiting!!!! time is ticking doll, i will show up to your club meeting and start gushing about how pretty my girlfriend is in front of all your little prospective club members if i don’t get a fit check in ten seconds

you: not your girlfriend 

eren: yet. three weeks to go. 

you: do you not have anything else to do?

eren: picture and i’ll be out of your hair. 

you: sent one attachment

eren: eren jaeger found dead at twenty-one.

you: thank god. 

eren: cause of death - the most beautiful girl i’ve ever seen in my life. absolute heartstopper

you: EREN. YOU’RE SO GROSS AND CORNY STOP. 

eren: ok ok see you after class sweet girl. and thanks for the picture. corniness aside, it really did make my day. you’re my favorite thing to look at. 

You ignore the pounding in your chest as you throw your phone into your purse and head to the coffee shop. And what you hoped would be an uninterrupted study session is interrupted by a certain green eyed idiot, smiling at you as he takes the seat across from you. 

“Hi doll.” 

“Eren. You have class.” 

“Got canceled. The planets and the fates and all the stars aligned. You and me, free for a little study date at the same time.” 

You crinkle your nose as you lift your backpack from the seat next to you, Eren sliding in and taking a sip from your watered down coffee. 

“Did you just rhyme? How long did that one take you?” 

“The whole walk over here. Did you like it?” 

“No.” 

Eren opens up his laptop, the two of you working in silence. And in the smallest of ways, Eren’s making it hard for you to focus. 

Tangling his legs with yours under the desk, resting his hand on your thigh every time you work out one of your homework problems with him, tucking your hair behind your ear every time it annoyingly flops forward. 

“Oh! I have something for you.” 

He holds out a tiny little candy, a twisted mango strawberry pop. The one you can only get in Shiganshina, a four hour drive away. 

“What the fuck? You had Mindy’s the entire time and your greedy ass wasn’t sharing?” 

You take the little candy in his hand, twisting the ends open and letting the flavors melt on your tongue. And the nostalgia hits your head, running in the grass as a kid, your mom keeping a little box on the top of the microwave for you two to share at the end of the day. 

“Just got them. I drove all the way to Shiganshina to get them for you.” 

“Uh huh.” 

“I’m being serious. I went on Sunday, after my lab meeting. Got the box, hung out with my dog for an hour and came back.” 

“You were probably just running an errand down there. I bet Zeke just needed your help with something.” 

“My parents and Zeke are in Hizuru, remember?” 

You feel your mouth go dry as you shuffle the candy in your mouth, huffing back in your chair. Corny ass idiot. They are in Hizuru to meet Zeke’s new girlfriend. But there’s no way in hell he drove all the way there just to get you a candy. 

“There’s no way you-”

“I’ve got my mind set on you. In my mind, you and I are already dating. I’m just kind of waiting for you to catch up.” 

“Oh, quit i-” 

“When you’re my girlfriend, we’ll go together. Make a little drive out of it, see your parents and my parents. Get Mindy’s. Bother that lady who works at the aquarium.” 

“Eren.” 

He pinches your cheek as you frown, rolling your eyes at him. 

“For now, I'll just drive down there alone to get you candy. Three more weeks, stink.” 

--

Your stress is building. You’ve got two term papers due next week, a club meeting to plan, a project to go over with your research advisor, and groceries to do. And really, really all you are is bone dead tired. That you can feel your bones dragging and your eye bags deepening and the panic shuffling every time you breathe in and out. 

Your final straw? Forgetting you were going to get your period and leaking onto your bed sheets. 

And you know it’s not a big deal. That you can wash the sheets and get the stain out, that you can take a shower to feel better. 

But this tiny little thing, this red blotch on your sheets, is enough to push you over the edge. Because you’re tired, because so much is going on, because this is just another thing you don’t have time to do but have to. 

You can feel the tears streaming down your eyes, burning the sensitive skin underneath your eyes and flushing your cheek. 

That’s when Eren finds you. Curled up on the ground, tears streaming down your eyes. 

“Woah, hey. Hey, talk to me. What’s wrong?” 

He falls flat on the floor next to you, opening up his arms which you roll into and start soaking his shirt in your salty tears. He’s whispering into your ear, whispering sweet nothings and his warm arms are holding you. 

“Tell me what happened. Use your words.” 

“I-I have a lot to do. The Civil Law paper and the entire plan for the-the club meeting. Dr. Smith wants to meet with me about my-my research plan and I’m not ready and I got my period and leaked on my sheets and I don’t have time to clean and-” 

“Okay. It’s okay.” 

His warm, calloused hands are rubbing into the small of your back, his hold still firm against you. And he drags you up, opening the shower and warming it up for you. He’s rummaged through your closet - pulled out a stack of clothes and set them on the counter. 

“Are you…going to leave?” 

“Of course not, Y/N. Outside when you’re done, okay?” 

And you take the shower. Spend too long standing underneath the warm water, letting the shower scald your skin in a comforting way, relishing in the smell of your springy body soap washing you clean. Of the tears, of the blood, of your frustrations. 

When you towel up your hair and reach for the stack of clothes on the counter, you only now realize what this cheeky bastard did. Left a pair of your pajamas and the hoodie he was wearing on the counter. 

You pull it on, his musky smell mixing with the scent of your flowery shampoo, as you pad out of your room, Eren folding your laundry on your bed. 

“Eren.” 

He turns around and gives you a warm smile, walking forward to lock his fingers with yours. 

“You look so cute right now. Pouty little face and your hair in this stupid towel.” 

“Quit it.” 

He leads you over to your bed, climbing on as he pulls you forward. 

“Cleaned the sheets. Did your laundry. And made a plan for you to finish the paper and emailed Erwin from your account that you’re not free until the week after and-” 

You can feel your eyes burning, the tears welling up in your face. You lean into his arms and he rests his chin against the top of your head, his hands snaking under your hoodie to press against your cold skin. 

“Eren.” 

“Hm.” 

“This is a really elaborate plan to get into my pants.” 

He laughs, the sound vibrating through his chest as he talks. 

“I know.” 

“I knew it, you dick. You only want to get in my pants.”  

“Well, that’s part of it. I am very attracted to you. I’m not going to pretend like I don’t want to be in your pants.” 

“Charming. The whole “I’ve got my mind set on you thing” is really working.” 

“I'm being honest! I want to be in your pants and in your head and all your little dreams and your heart too.” 

You rest your head against his chest, his heartbeat hammering against your ears as he finishes talking. And when you drift off to sleep, you can still feel it beating in tandem with yours. And try to forget why you and Eren are waiting two weeks to do this for real in the first place. 

--

He’s done it now. And you’ve caught him in the fucking act. The sweet, sweet satisfaction of proving this idiot wrong - that he would get bored of waiting for you and move onto another girl is standing right in front of you. 

It’s Eren’s friend Reiner’s birthday. Eren had told you in advance that he couldn’t see you Friday and you obliged. 

Except, Hitch invited you to the party the day of, claiming she needed someone to walk in with so she didn’t look like an idiot. Some guy Marlowe she’s really into is going to be there and she has to be at her best. 

And when you get to the party, you lose Hitch in all but five seconds, left in this awkward, sweaty mess of a room alone. But when you walk over to the kitchen, you see it. 

Eren leaning over the counter, talking to a girl. Short brown hair, a mass of freckles over her face, the two of them smiling at each other. And when you march over there, you’re all but too happy to rub it in his face. 

Because you’re right. And you knew you were right. That Eren, all hot and toned and sexy from his beach summer, would not give it up. The attention, the girls, the love he gets from all of it for you. That he would look at other things and not at you, that you couldn’t be enough for him. And he can buy you coffee and do your laundry and be there for you all he wants, but you know deep down you’re right. 

“You little son of a bitch. Week three and I win.” you say, crossing your hands over your chest. 

“Huh?” 

“I win. You’re at a party, flirting with a girl. Meaning, you don’t have your mind set on me. Meaning, I’m right. That you can’t let go of being a manwhore for me, that you surely have your eyes wandering elsewhere even though you claim to be only looking at me.” 

“Y/N-” 

“You think driving to get me candy and doing my laundry and giving me your hoodie would buy me over? You’re not getting into my pants for a quick fuck just because you know you can and-” 

He pulls you forward, clamping his hand over your mouth. He’s squinting his eyes at you, almost like he’s confused at your outburst. And when you look over at the girl, you realize why. 

It’s Ymir. The president of the Gay-Straight Alliance Ymir. Like literally the gayest girl you’ve probably ever met in your life. 

“Oh.” 

Eren smiles, rolling his eyes, as he drops his hands to lock his hand with yours. 

“Yeah, oh. Did you not see it was her when you walked over?” 

“No. Hi Ymir.” 

Ymir smiles, reaching forward to mess with your hair as she turns to Eren. 

“You’re right. She really is stubborn.” Ymir says, smiling at him. 

“Tell me about it. She does this every time I do something nice for her.” he responds, squeezing your hand as he talks. 

“Well, you are a manwhore.” 

“Not anymore, Ymir! I’m only a whore for her.” 

She pinches your cheek as she walks off, linking arms with a certain blonde as you walk away. And when you look over, Eren’s lazily making a drink for you on the counter, swirling it in his hand before he gives you the cup. 

“It’s Jungle Juice. There’s like three different liquors in it but you can’t really taste it s-”

“You’re not mad?” 

“Huh?” 

“I just…yelled at you. Really unfairly. And you’re not even mad?” 

“Got my mind set on you. Like you said, this thing takes patience. And time. I’ll wait for it. You’ll come to see I’m surprisingly good at this patience understanding when it’s something I really, really want.” 

And as he tilts his head back, pouring the drink into his mouth, like the entire outburst you had didn’t happen. And that’s it. You crane your head around the kitchen, looking for it. 

“Whatcha looking for?” 

Eren watches you mill around the kitchen, opening drawers, lifting picture frames as you look for it. And when you find it - the calendar posted on Reiner’s wall - you rip it off and place it in front of Eren with a marker in your hand. 

“What’s this, Y/N?” 

“Did you know that I can move time forward?” 

“Huh? How much have you had to drink?” 

You reach forward, crossing out through the entire week. The last week of the month, for the bet you and Eren had. 

Because he’s convinced you. That his mind’s set on you. That even if he used to like other girls, the girl he likes now is you. Enough to drive hours to make you happy, take care of you - bloody sheets and all, and gush at a party about you to other people. Like he’s proud to be around you, like you’re the only thing he looks at. 

“I don’t follow, sweet girl.” 

“The bet started three weeks ago. And I crossed out the last week, so it’s over now. And I want to be with you no-” 

He leans forward, pressing his warm, plush lips against yours as he can’t help but smile through the kiss. All warm and fruity, surely from the drink Eren just made. And he whispers against your mouth, eliciting a laugh out of you. 

“Thank fucking god. You were driving me insane, you little heathen.” 

You reach forward, tangling your hands with the collar of his shirt as you pull him down again, pressing your lips against his, trying to memorize the feel, the sensation of him against you. 

And when Hitch comes home from the party, all buzzed, to find you two under the covers, watching a movie, she says one thing and one thing only. 

“No fucking in my bed.”

--

taglist: @platrom @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @mykyoon @violetmatcha @daisynik7 @rebeccawinters ​@itzmeme 

[goldrosh]

in the last sugar rush post from 2023, @accio-victuuri asked us to list our top 5 cpns from last year but since I'm late I thought on doing a post. thank you for those recopilatory monthly posts, btw! they're very helpful and when you read them you also relive those beautiful moments. and overall for always keeping us updated about everything going on with our boys.

so here's my top 5 cpns from 2023

the inner mongolia saga: I decided to call it like that for everthing that happened from the moment xz went to film there. it started with yb's first selfie of 2023 and all the clowning about him perhaps visiting the loch set, the infamous black cloth, all the speculation about him owning a leica camera, the confirmation of him owning a leica camera, xz's birthday post that also had him posing with a leica camera, the camping pic, and everything culminating with yb's own pics taken in inner mongolia. honestly, september and october were such busy months to being a clown, I love how everything just developed little by little and fell like pieces of a puzzle.

the suspicious change on xz's filming schedule: when ybo reported that yb won't be able to participate in the star of the one and only promo period, everyone got worried, since when yb takes days off while sick? the next day tho, some reports came in; after days of going to film at a certain early time, xz was going a little bit late. "interesting" said every turtle in the world, "let's see how this continues". and boy, it did continue, casually until yb's recovery. a happy coincidence.

anniversary?: when we all thought nothing was toping the inner mongolia saga, november 19 happened. and to think everything started very innocently with yb updating his douyin and then everything scalating into the possibility of them sorting out the seriousness of their relationship one november 19... I honestly loved how everyone started to bring up years of clues and how it just made sense.

wedding outfit: this one is very self explanatory, their weinbo night outfits that strangely looked like wedding outfit. I would have loved to see them both walking out the red carpet but we all know how weinbo loves to self sabotage I mean I enjoy when they do that but not that night! I like to think that the reason why they chose those outfits is because their first weinbo night is also called "divorce night" and, after years of not attending the same event, they wanted to give us a wedding night. yes, I am that much of a clown, thank you.

ybo's birthday post: this one hit me so hard that I still tear up whenever I read "yb, the sunset is very beautiful". to most, that post it's just a very well written birthday wish, but if you're like me and believe xz wrote it then knowing that these two boys love each other so deeply is reason enough to warm your heart. "time does not have a pause button, yet you seem to hold the password for the occasional pauses in the world". cry with me 🥲

honorific mention to: THE hat (yb made it hard to ignore lmao), everything is lovely and its promo (at first I wasn't trying to read too much into the colors that were used to promote the ep but then the bone necklace appeared and changed my mind), mysterious driver (just so you all know I'm totally sold on this) and overall this year that seemed to have them together for longer periods of time.

[jo-harrington]

As Above, So Below - Series Masterlist

Van Helsing - Kas!Eddie/Fem!OC - Soulmates

This story is told from 2nd Person POV (you/your)

Minors DNI - This fic is for 18+ readers only.

Summary: In order to undo a centuries-long curse, you travel to Hawkins to defeat a great evil and close the gates to Hell once and for all. Unfortunately, you uncover many unsettling secrets including some about your lost love, Eddie Munson.

Warnings (in no particular order): Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Smut (Specifics Tagged in Chapters), Major and Minor Character Deaths, Violence, Gore, Body Horror, Blood, Manipulation, Transformation, Corruption, Religious Elements, Criticism of Religion, Biblical and Other Literary and Pop Culture References

This story is going to be EXTREMELY HEAVY to write, so I will not be putting out a posting schedule. Chapters will get posted as they are completed.

OC is of European/Italian-American descent on her father's side and her mother's side can be left up to interpretation. She is loosely Roman Catholic and you will see why I say loosely if you read. I will not be giving her a name, or any major physical descriptors if I can help it but her cultural identity is integral to this story.

Note: You do not need to have seen Van Helsing (2004) to understand the premise of this fic. You should, however, read the prequels.

Prequels: Heaven - Hell - Purgatory

Hymns of Heaven: A series of "additions" to the prequel timeline based on cryptid and monster requests. April 1984 Mothman - April 1984 Immortal Snail - May 1984 Splinter Cat - May 1984 Sully - June 1984 Chupacabra - July 1984 Will-o'-the-Wisp - August 1984 Manticore - August 1984 Frogman - September 1984 Fresno Nightcrawler - September 1984 Thunderbird/Horned Serpent - October 1984 The Kraken - Halloween 1984 Werewolf - December 1984 Freddy Kreuger - December 1984 The Guardians - Christmas Eve 1984 Loch Ness Monster - January 1985 Manananggal - April 1985 Oneiroi - Unknown in the UD Inner Monster - Unknown in the UD Nachzehrer

Related Blurbs: Limbo - Genesis

Gratia. - Charitas. - Solamen.

Prequel Playlist

Chapters: Prologue - Annunciation 1 - Illumination 2 - Descendió a los Infiernos 3 - Crucible 4 - Malum Malus 5 - Via Domus 6 - Revelation 7 - Exodus 8 - Miserere Mei 9 - Deus in Absentia 10 - Atonement 11 - Amor Vicit Omnia Epilogue - Ab Aeterno

Series Playlist

Reader's Guide to AASB - A collection of references and Easter eggs that are made in the story.

Series Art All series art is commissioned by me from various fandom artists. Some art depicts the Knight (artwork varies from original character design to self insert art). If you want to keep the illusion of a faceless Knight, please do not look at the artwork noted with (*).

*Knight Character Design Sheet - by @floredaqueen *

*Eddie and the Knight on their First Date - by @boltedfruit *

*Eddie and the Knight and the Fresno Nightcrawler - by @doomcheese*

*November 5, 1984 - At the Trailer - by @boltedfruit * (TW: Blood)

Hell Eddie - V2 feat. Knight's Intervention - by @lilithapril (TW: Blood/Gore)

Purgatory Eddie - by @dance-on-the-bones (TW: Blood)

Kas!Eddie - by @nightonblogmountain

*AASB Sketch Sheet - by @toomanyacorns* (TW: Blood)

Via Domus - Eddie and the Demobats - by @hearsegrrl

*AASB Sketch Sheet 2 - by @toomanyacorns * (TW: Blood)

The Gospel According to Mary Victoria - AASB as told from Mary Victoria’s perspective and a deep dive into her journey.

Book 1 - Book 2 - Book 3

This fic will not be for the faint of heart. Please check the above warnings and ask yourself if you are in the correct headspace to proceed. I am happy to answer any questions via PM or Ask.

Tag List: There will be no tag list for As Above, So Below.

[accio-victuuri]

part two of cpns related to wyb’s selfie (timeline)

I wasn’t expecting to make a second part cause i felt like the first one is already well and good. but we all know with this fandom, clues come in as time passes by and i wanna share it here and archive as well.

you young people have changed to climbing mountains when you fall in love now…. 💕

========

for the past days, BXGs have been trying to piece this timeline of their vacation together. the popular guess is that they had one in Beijing ( camping trip ) and another one in Inner Mongolia. i think what the zsww rumor house was saying is true about them wanting to have more quality time together and not just a quick meet up in secret and say goodbye. whether what we think is true or not, it’s all for fun and sugar ok. it’s not like we want to out them or anything. we get things from what they share and go from there. the goal is not to stalk them or anything.

we have two options:

1. Assuming that two people went there together, the most likely time based on Bobo’s outfit is 8.27-8.29 or 8.27-9.1.

After ZZ got off work in the early morning of 8.27, the crew began to change scenes and work was stopped for a while. He arrived at the hotel and started working at 9.1 afternoon, with some free time in between.

Then ZZ posted on Weibo on 8.29 ( Tod’s Ad ) showing Beijing. If it was posted by himself, then they would be returning to Beijing together on 8.29; if not, then it is possible that they would go separately after playing together, with one going directly to work and the other going back to Beijing.

It takes about 5 hours to drive from Beijing to the Geopark. It takes about 3 hours from the Geopark to the hotel.

( p1 is a tourist posting about their experience traveling from BJ to IM and going to that particular volcano during this time, going back 8.30-9.1 and the weather was good to wear shorts. they also shared some itinerary, so it’s some proof. )

/source/

2. Next is first week of September, since XZ photos were taken 9/5 and the whole black cloth operation at his hotel 9/10, there could be something going on at the time. Remember this was also the time that WYB’s douyin IP was turned off.

I think at the end of the day, the exact time is not important. What matters is we get to clown. Lol. Maybe in the future we will know more if they share stuff in interviews for LOCH/Mermaid.

FANS ALSO DISCOVERED that the place WYB went to is popular for photoshoots where you act like you’re in the Moon. And I have to agree. It’s the best place to do so, no need for a studio.

This is so sweet. knowing how the 2 of them are so obsessed with the Moon. 🌙

BONUS: matching gray shirt! 🤍

-END.

[samheughanupdates]

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From the heart of the Scottish Highlands to the heart of BABA, we’re shaking things up with three killer @sassenachspirits cocktails, crafted by none other than Outlander’s @samheughan!

Channel your inner Scot and dive into these liquid legends…

🍸 Sassy Martinez

A fierce mix of Sassenach Gin, sweet vermouth, maraschino, and a citrusy zing. Classy with a kick of sass!

🥃 Rob Roy

A Highland remix of the classic—Sassenach Scotch Whisky, sweet vermouth, and a cherry bomb. Made for whisky warriors.

🍓 Strawberry Negroni

Sassenach Gin, strawberry, white luxardo, and cocchi rosa. Sweet summer vibes with a Scottish twist!

Get ready to sip your way through the rugged moors and moody lochs of Scotland. Available until Sunday 11⏳

So, which ‘Cocky-T’ will you conquer? 😏

[snapeaddict]

Snapetober Day 30: Ghost + Minvember Day 2: Scotland

This is a real folktale, very slightly modified, from Uist, Scotland. It was recorded by M. F. Shaw from the bard Seonaidh Caimbeul.

"Have we not celebrated enough? The pumpkins? The gory food? The costumes? What more do you want, headmaster?"

Albus took a seat next to Severus, settling himself in the armchair rather carefully as he was holding a teacup, full to the brim. He merely smiled.

"You did not even dress up, Severus. And I was thinking - what about ghost stories? It would be a nice way to finish the evening. Wouldn't it, Minerva?"

The Potions Master rolled his eyes. He was still standing next to his chair, his arms folded and a usual scowl on his face; those who knew him well, though, could tell, after scrupulous observation, that there was a hint of amusement in it.

He sat in the armchair next to him unceremoniously, as though he had been forced to and not merely - and very civilly - invited to join the group. 

"I know one", Minerva replied, handing him a cup of tea with a cunning smile. "My mother told it to me when I was a girl. It is from Uist, I believe."

"Indulge us, Minerva", Severus muttered, accepting the hot beverage. "Albus seems to be in dire need of embracing his inner child tonight."

"And you should too, sometimes, my boy", the headmaster remarked humorously. "It would do you good."

"Now that sounds properly terrifying."

"Should I tell it, yes or no?" Minerva interrupted them, her eyebrow raised. 

Her expression was very teacher-like. Albus Held up his hands apologetically. 

"Pardon us, my dear. Do proceed."

Minerva put down her cup and cleared her throat, dusting her robes as she gathered her thoughts. Around them the staffroom was dark, save from the halo of light where they were sitting: it emanated from the fireplace behind them, and in it, the embers were dark red.

"There was a shepherd who lived in his father's cottage, on the high slope of Beinn Mhòr. He had a wife and a daughter, and the daughter was deaf and numb. His father was a very old man of a very evil temper, and one night he fell ill, and died. So the husband and his wife placed him in a bier, and the shepherd set out to town to bring back people to help him carry the body. The mother, with her little child, sat next to the fire in silence."

In the fireplace, a piece of wood, almost entirely consumed, fell from the burning pile with a thud.

"Suddenly, the mother heard the corpse move. And so the child looked up and spoke her first words: "Grandfather is rising. He will eat you; but he won't touch me."

Albus cast her a horrified glance.

"The mother caught the child and fled to the nearest bedroom", Minerva continued, "and she bared the door with everything she could find. The corpse rose and came to the door, and he began to dig away the earth under the lintel with his white hands. The mother and her girl saw his fingers, then his arms, then his head appear - but at this moment the cock crew and he led completely still."

At this point, even Severus had stopped sipping his tea.

"The corpse was there until the shepherd came back with men from the village and lifted him back onto the bier. The mother and child watched as he was pulled below the door, his horrible smiling face disappearing last. They buried him in a graveyard on the north side of Loch Eynort, at a place called An t-Uchd uidhe. There is a hole where he is buried, and you can still see it to this day."

Then, with a content smile and innocent countenance, Minerva picked up her teacup, humming softly while both her colleagues stared at her with their mouths hanging slightly open. Their own tea was long forgotten.

"That's your children's ghost story?" Severus finally said, pulling himself together. "That's the kind of bedside story your mother told you as a child?"

Minerva smiled facetiously.

"That's the Gaelic spirit for you, dear", she replied in an angelic tone.

"He will eat you, but he won't touch me?"

Albus still had not spoken. The Potion Master, turning his head slightly, glanced at him quickly. Then, turning back to Minerva, he said ironically:

"If he cannot sleep tonight and ends up knocking on your door, that is on you and the Gaelic spirit."

[yoga-onion]

Legends and myths about trees

Celtic beliefs in trees (13)

F for Fearn (Alder) - March 18th - April 14th

“The tree of Bran the Blessed - Fourth month of the Celtic tree calendar (Ref)”

Colour: purple; Gemstone: amethyst; Gender: male; Patrons: Bran, Apollo, Aranrhod, Odin, Lug; Symbols: shield + foundation, discrimination + inner confidence, loyalty

In Celtic also Norse mythology, March was known as the 'month of lengthening days', which wakes the alder from its winter slumber.

Alder trees are found in the northern hemisphere. Although it is a broad-leaved tree, only alder bears cones, so it is easy to recognise them at a glance in winter. Alder wood can survive completely submerged in water, and never far from water, Alder trees can most often be found lining the banks of a stream, loch, or river, or in boggy wet ground and swamps.

Alder trees, which fix nitrogen around their roots, are also soil-enriching blessing trees. The alder tree, which does not rot even when in water, appeared to be a source of great mystery to the ancients. However, the main reason why the ancient Celts worshipped the alder tree was its sap turns a deep red when exposed to air, as if cutting it would cause it to bleed.

The alder month is a time when the days lengthen, the winter chill slackens and the sun gains momentum, and the ancient Celts would have been uplifted by the blossoming of the alder and its various blessings. The alder tree, which sacrifices itself to fertilise the soil, was also considered sacred. While it was also said to protect the road leading to fairyland, it was also believed that if an alder was cut down, the person's house would burn down in a fire. According to Irish legend, the first man was made from an alder tree and the first woman was made from a rowan tree.

The alder is the totemic tree of Bran the Blessed, the god. He is a giant and king of Britain in Welsh mythology. According to legend, after fighting the Irish, Bran knew he was dying and ordered his fellows to cut off his head and bring it back to London. The party spent 7 years in Harlech and 80 years in Benbrook on the way, but Bran's head remained alive and undecomposed. Bran's head was buried in the White Hill below the Tower of London. Bran's totemic bird was the raven, so 2 ravens are kept at the Tower of London, but their wings have been clipped. This is because legend has it that if the ravens abandon the Tower of London and fly away, the UK will be destroyed.

Apparently, the ravens are loved and looked after, really well by the Beefeater Guards.

木にまつわる伝説・神話

ケルト人の樹木の信仰 (13)

FはFearn (ﾊﾝﾉｷ) - 3月18日～4月14日

『祝福された人ブランの木〜 ケルトの木の暦（参照）の第4月』

色: 紫; 宝石: アメジスト; 性: 男性; 守護神: ブラン、アポロ、アランロド、オーディン、ルグ; シンボル: 楯＋基礎、識別力＋内なる自信、忠誠

ケルト神話や北欧神話では、ハンノキを冬の眠りから覚ます「日が長くなる月」として知られていた。

広葉樹でありながら球果をつけるのはハンノキだけなので、冬にはひと目で見分けることができる。ハンノキの木は完全に水に浸かっても生きていけるので、小川、湖、川の岸辺や、湿地帯、沼地など、水辺でよく見かけることができる。

根の周囲に窒素を固定させるハンノキは、土壌を豊かにする恵みの木でもある。水の中にあっても腐らないハンノキは、古代人にとって特別な木に見えた。昔はハンノキを切り倒して沼沢地に道を造り、クラノグ(湖上住居)も、ハンノキで立てたのだ。しかし、古代ケルト人が、ハンノキを崇拝した最大の理由は、樹液が空気に触れると深い赤色になり、まるで切ると血が出るかのようだからだ。

ハンノキの月は、日脚が延びて、冬の寒気がゆるみ、日差しが勢いを増してくる時期であり、ハンノキの花開き、さまざまな恵みに古代ケルト人たちの気持ちも昂揚していただろう。また、自分を犠牲にして土壌を肥やすハンノキは神聖なものと考えられていた。妖精の国へ導く道を守るとも言われる一方で、ハンノキを切り倒すと、その人の家が火災にあって全焼するとも信じていた。アイルランドの伝説では、最初の男性はハンノキからつくられ、女性はナナカマドからつくられたことになっている。

ハンノキは、ウェールズ神話に登場する巨人であり、ブリテンの王であるブラン神のトーテムの木である。伝説によれば、アイルランド人と戦ったのち、死期が近づいているのを悟ったブランは、自分の首を刎ね、ロンドンまで持ち帰るよう仲間たちに命じた。一行は途中ハーレックで７年、ベンブルークで80年過ごしたものの、それでもブランの首は腐敗せず生き続けた。ブランの首はロンドン塔の下に広がる白い丘に埋葬された。ブランのトーテムの鳥はワタリガラスであったので、ロンドン塔ではワタリガラスが飼われているが、翼が切られている。ワタリガラスがロンドン塔を見捨てて飛んでいってしまうと英国は滅亡するという言い伝えがあるためである。

ロンドン塔のワタリガラスたちはビーフィーター・ガードたちに愛され、本当によく世話をしてもらっているそうです。

[croakingravenstudio]

Loch Brittle sketch.

A tiny thumbnail sketch based on my reference photo taken at the head of Loch Brittle on the Isle of Skye.

Pencil: 6B, 5.6mm diameter lead.

I get easily distracted by details so working on such a small scale with a large pencil makes me focus on the information I need and maintains my interest, energy and motivation. There are some marks testing the colours at the bottom right.

[avampyone]

Prompt #18: Unexpected Meeting

Characters: Arazul De'fleur, Hemlocke, mention of Seiro.

Synopsis: Charged with helping the wounded, Arazul takes a much needed moment for himself and finds something hunting him in the dark.

Setting: Lochs, Battle of Ghimlyt Dark.

Warning - Blood

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

Many long hours had passed with the sounds of explosions and battle cries could be heard in the distance. The skies were black but remained visible thanks to the many wildfires and search lights off in the distance. At the medical tent, many were already gathered to be seen and tend to all the simple wounds they could without the assistance of magic.

With sweat beading on his brow, Arazul disposed of his blood soaked gloves and took in a calming breath with the hopes to ease the pounding of his heart, “I.. need some air…” He murmured off deeply to one of the other physicians present but doubted the attendant had heard anything in her busy hustle.

A small spring trinkled down from a sparse forest nearby the tent that the doctor strode off to afford himself a few quiet moments alone. Thin fingers rose to rub firmly at his temple when the pounding of his heart fell to sync with a growing headache he sought to fight off.

Despite recovering from the coma, this panic was one of many symptoms that he tangled with in the aftermath of his condition, “No, not now…There’s still too much left to be done. This is different from before…” He whispered out loud, knowing well that self-talk helped to bring him out of this state from time to time.

Arazul’s long ears perked after a moment in alarm when the distraction came in the form of a shuddering bush off to the left of his current position. Something crouched in wait – attempting to hunt him. He cursed under his breath to have forgotten his sword back at the tent, but he wasn’t entirely without any weapon. Slowly, he reached inside the inner pocket of his jacket to retrieve a scalpel trying to keep as still as possible.

He heard the creature take a decisive step forward, beginning to make out the glow of glaring red eyes from the green coverage. With an inhuman snarl out, a quick movement tracked the heavy footfall of boots displacing red dirt underneath towards him to pounce right at him.

Luckily, the doctor was quicker and stronger than he was – He lifted his forearm in time to feel the maw press down upon and sharp canine teeth piercing easily through the cloth to flesh.

Gritting his teeth to bite back the conflicted feeling of pain and burning pleasure shooting up his arm, Arazul had dropped the scalpel from his hands in their tussle. He quickly retaliated with one well-placed blow of his curled fist to the middle of his attacker’s stomach that sent him stumbling back and ultimately flopping back onto the ground.

Detachedly, Arazul noted that he might have enjoyed being bitten with the way the burning venom sought to tantalize, but under these circumstances and from a man he didn’t know- “Unsanitary...” An unpleasant frown formed at the doctor’s purple tinged lips, unlikely not to go away any time soon. The doctor peered down at the young man whom he assumed to be another one of the empire’s experiments gone wrong.

He hummed thoughtfully in consideration of putting him out of his misery, “I think he may be around Cecilia’s age…” After picking up his scalpel, he reached into his pocket for a pair of thick bandages tinged with a heavy red dye. Arazul tied him up for good measure to make sure he wouldn’t be of any more harm to himself or others.

---------

“So, you mean to tell me your condition is a form of vampirism...like a fabled ashkin? My sister used to read romantic nonsense about them...Are they not supposed to follow some sort of cliché – seductive and alluring..” Crossing one now cleansed and bandaged arm over the other, Arazul’s brow rose to look over Hemlocke with a speculative glance over.

The smaller elezen with his face covered in soot, disheveled hair, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth, clothing torn up from the ferocity of the battle – it wasn’t anything like he expected.

“Well, if you will excuse me for not fitting your expectations! Ashkin or nightkin...I have no idea. But still, a battle is hardly the place for all that.” With his wrists raised above him and intricately tied up by the thick bandages that bound them, Hemlocke moved his hands experimentally as if to test them. He found no give whatsoever in their snug hold. His heavy crimson eyes wandered over the doctor’s tall form, inevitably ending on his bare neck.

A sharp pain of hunger cut through him that had him restlessly fidgeting and groaning against the stretch table Arazul had laid him down upon, “And as much as I enjoy waking up to the sight of a handsome man leaving me tied me up..I-I need to get back out there. I lost track of Seiro in the fight. He was so nervous when we left...need to watch his back.”

With a heavy sigh, Arazul shook his head to hear him dissolve into endless mumblings to himself in his concern over his friend. This had been exactly what he needed to feel something like his old self again – focused with the challenge of a problem to solve, “I know of the man, and I assure you he can take care of himself. You have far more pressing concerns…”

He trotted off back to the main tent to see herbs and potions they had on hand. The condition of craving blood was a curious one, but the vanity in him persisted that there was nothing that could not be eased by a medicinal solution.

[mantrabay]

Christmas Torch Aloft

Season of dream haze and arctic signpost.

Chill and chap brood whose scattered offspring plummet thermal values as welcome mat for “whiskered” chimney guest awash with bounty.

Thief of sun filled days without a twinge but that universal late December rendezvous can’t be thrust off-course.

Primal raw wind howl dissing summer’s distant memory - spotty and erratic though it was.

Deck chair, seat of toil free bliss now cold front recess blob.

Mirage or wishful thinking from a wet weather veteran.

We live in fear of reruns like Ophelia or

2010’s black ice.

Storm Force Brian, Mount Fuji on an airwave shrapnel carrier.

Dormant Loch Ness shadow’s fervent air mass plugging festive tunes.

To fuel dispatch and chimney sweep alike a sacred windfall.

For those who struggle just another inroad on an ever

shrinking pocket.

Yet this annual curtain closer has its grail and saving grace.

Dark art charmer lacing every patch for knee high boot crunch.

Architect of igloo closet ski cap.

Sleigh ride bell upon that maligned feast around our globe (Noel hark the alpine carol)!

Bizarre but only to us frostbite souls aloof from glacial beauty.

Deep freeze spirit canvass may not surface.

Christmas anthems booming over frolic footfall streets adorned by night owls.

Chaser lights that gee up gutted ghost town black spot.

Urban ice rink dome another fantasy or wonderland.

Toy shop stock n trade whose only trade is stock.

Colour coded gadget clutching every cell of window space.

Fashion fodder wizards magic spark a toddler’s glee at every turn.

Boisterous strains of Santa rousing inner reindeers - the sort beloved by children down the ages.

Yuletide decor gift band holly bush spike.

Log tossed on fire, kindling stick incendiary, leaping flame enshrouds smokeless polish.

Skim milk skyline flaunts its snow fleck jewellery aloft.

Stars of astral compass spread their twinkle dash on human garlands.

Winter’s stepwise edging in a whirl plume of slush.

Christmas well and truly has arrived.

Photographs and piece

all my own work

Dedicated to my wonderful sister Jay Pallen.

Happy Christmas to you and your family/ friends, Jay.

Wishing everyone on tumbrl a very merry Christmas

To those on tumbrl who read, liked, and reblogged my various works, a deep and genuine thanks

[scotianostra]

16th May 1933 saw Midland Scottish Air Ferries begin Islay’s first scheduled passenger service.

Midland & Scottish Air Ferries was the country’s first airline, operating from 1933 to 1934. It is particularly noted for pioneering flights to the Inner Hebrides.

Islay received its first recorded flight in July 1928. Midland Scottish Air Ferries operated the islands first scheduled flight on 16th May 1933, arriving from Renfrew via Campbeltown. Two days earlier, on 14th May 1933, the islands first air ambulance flight, using a De Havilland Dragon aircraft, landed on the beach at the head of Lochindaal to collect a local fisherman suffering from abdominal pains.

The airport at Glenegedale opened for business in 1935 and was taken over by the RAF during World War Two. The hard runways that exist today at Islay originally date from 1940. The Avro Ansons of 48 Squadron, and Beaufighter and Beaufort aircraft of 304 Ferry Training Unit used the new runways while flying boats of 119 Squadron landed in nearby Laggan Bay and Loch Indaal. By 1944 the airfield was under the control of Coastal Command and included three runways and six hangars. Personnel stationed there included 266 WAAF and 1,113 RAF servicemen.

Many different aircraft have used Islay Airport over the decades, ranging from a Hercules and a BAE 146 jet of the Royal Flight to the smallest microlights. Loganair now uses Saab 340s for scheduled flights to Glasgow and many charter aircraft from the UK and overseas land at the airport. Scottish Air Ambulance Service planes and helicopters are regular visitors along with a variety of military and private aircraft.

[officialidontbelieveinhumans]

Which Mythical Creature Matches Your Star Sign?

Ever wondered which magical creature matches your star sign?  Strap in for an enchanting journey with our ultimate guide to your astrological spirit animal!

Aries: Look alive, because your spirit animal is the Dragon, breathing fire and brimstone and all things fierce. This creature’s all about that bold, burn-first-apologize-never vibe that screams your brand of gutsy. Use your inner dragon to torch any obstacles in your way! 

Taurus: The dreamy Unicorn is just your speed, bringing all the chill vibes of a lazy Sunday morning. Rely on the peaceful Unicorn to steer you through the rollercoaster of life with insight and clarity.

Gemini: Fluttering into your life is the sprightly Fairy, as vibrant and chatty as you are. This little winged advisor is all about sprucing up your communication talents and sprinkling some sweetness into your words and expressions.

Cancer: Dive deep with the Mermaid, your go-to for all things heartfelt. Get cozy with your inner sea creature and splash around in your feelings—it’s about getting as snug as a clam in those emotional waters.

Leo: You get the Phoenix because obviously, who else could match your flair for the dramatic? Let this fiery fowl reboot your life every time you need a fresh start. 

Virgo: Call forth the Gnome, because someone needs to keep things tidy around here, and it might as well be your spirit animal. This little pointy hat-wearer is all about keeping your pencils sharpened and your ducks in a row.

Libra: Glide through the skies atop the Pegasus. Aim high, and let this winged horse elevate your aesthetic game to new heights—bringing you beauty, balance, and a touch of divine equine.

Scorpio: Here comes the Griffin, all regal and fierce and a tad bit intimidating—just like you. This mythical manager helps you strategize and slice through life’s messes with the precision of a well-aimed claw.

Sagittarius: The Centaur is your co-conspirator, blending human intellect with horse-like stamina. Gear up for deep thoughts and long treks in pursuit of wild adventures and sage insights.

Capricorn: Nessie, aka the Loch Ness Monster, is your clandestine spirit creature. Hold your secrets tight and your tactics tighter as you wade through the foggy realms of business and bureaucracy.

Aquarius: Stomping through your life is none other than Bigfoot, an icon of uniqueness and a legend in his own right. March to the beat of your own drum with Sasquatch by your side, breaking norms, and blazing trails.

Pisces: Your guide is the Wizard, steeped in the arcane and brimming with creativity. Stir the cauldron of potential with your wise old mentor, conjuring magic and artistry as you go.