#jonathan vigil

[concreteemo]

I NEED a Bad Omens/ The Ghost Inside collaboration. This is just oh my gaaaaaah

[tomsmusictaste]

You never felt the same way too...

In Her Own Words // Raining In Toronto (feat. Jonathan Vigil)

[infraredmag]

FIT FOR A KING 'The Hell We Create'

♫ UPCOMING MUSIC ALERT ♫ @fitforaking new album 'The Hell We Create' out on 10/28 via @solidstate. Preview it now at: www.InfraredMAG.com #NewMusic #FitForAKing #TheHellWeCreate #SolidStateRecords @atomsplitterpr @TurnThePageLDN

FIT FOR A KING The Hell We Create October 28, 2022 Solid State Records (more…)

[just-here-for-the-whump]

@whumpgifathon | Day 6 Alt prompt: Bedside Vigil

Magnum P.I. 7x21 Limbo

[thebadtimewolf]

"Lover, do you want chicken and pasta or Steak and pasta?"

The Vigilante is trying not to smile excitedly. "You want me to pick between chicken or steak with pasta?"

She wanted to squee. It was a simple thought that the Vigilante haven't introduced anyone to intergalactic spices. Nor has she had introduced them to her insatiable hunger.

So, of course, she's excited.

[queenie-ofthe-void]

Confessions

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

~~~

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

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

“Nance?” He sounds surprised too.

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

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

“Look, Nance, now’s not really–”

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

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

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

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

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

“Nance, please–”

“Steve Harrington, I lo–”

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

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

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

Steve Harrington is everything. 

And Eddie’s everything is Steve Harrington.

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

And they’re kind of here right now…

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

“Oh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh my god! Finally!”

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

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

Eddie loves her so much.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[easy-there-leftovers]

Magnum Opus (Ch. 1)

When an MIT prodigy on their gap year is contacted by the FBI regarding her potential involvement in a series of murders in Washington D.C., she must now cooperate to uncover how her paintings are mysteriously appearing at the crime scenes.

(Written with Season 1-4 Spencer in mind, but the timeline could be anywhere pre-season 12. No mentions of past cases)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Artist! reader|cw: Canon-typical violence|word count: 2k words

Also on Ao3!!

Series Masterlist

While Aaron Hotchner remained vigilant as he drove the black SUV, the constant flipping of Spencer’s case files seemed to be louder than the car’s air conditioning. 

He had directed Morgan and JJ to touch base at the MPDC, and had Rossi and Prentiss survey the crime scene of Jonathan Edwards; the identity of the previously unknown man in the vacant apartment.

This left him with Reid in the passenger seat to conduct an investigation on their only lead so far. 

From the update Garicia had given them, Y/n L/n was a prodigy a year younger than their very own. Having graduated from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology a year ago, she moved to Capitol Park Plaza and Twins Apartments in Washington D.C., and is currently unemployed. Occasionally selling her paintings out of her unit under an anagram of her name.

 But something bothered him.

And it seems like Reid has picked up on it too.

“Do you think Dr. L/n is the unsub?” The unit chief asks.

Spencer hums before answering.

“While we can’t rule it out just yet, the possibility of her being the unsub is totally unlikely. The thing that’s throwing me off is that everything is too convenient. I mean, why would the unsub use something so publicly personal to them as part of their signature? It’s as if she’s overtly incriminating herself.”

Spencer checks back onto the pictures of the victims, then lifts his head up to look at Hotch to continue.

“Based on the way the victims are modeled, an immense amount of care was put into them. All for the purpose of making them look like the subjects in their paintings. Actually, the fixation on changing the bodies’ posture and keeping them clean is typically done out of remorse. But the added elements, like the placement of the paintings, creates an image of an unsub more on the narcissistic side. By creating two 'artworks,' they're prompting the viewer to decide which version of it they prefer. Mocking the original artist in the process.”

“So the paintings were done before the murder?”

“I have no reason to believe otherwise.”

His unit chief sighs and pulls over to the curb. “Well, we’re about to test that belief.” Spencer hurries to take off his seatbelt as Hotch closes the car door with a thud. 

—------

Hotchner nods at Reid as they find themselves in front of the written address Garcia gave them. He lifts his hand to knock firmly on your door, and waits for a response.

A thud from the other side causes both of them to assess each other before Hotch tells Spencer to stay behind him. Gun in hand until something, or someone, comes running at them.

But instead a muffled, “sorry” is heard right after, which causes him to lower his gun.

The door finally opens a crack to reveal a very tired twenty-something woman, some dark pigment or makeup smudged on their lower eye lines as they rubbed at it. She immediately fixed her posture however at the sight of the unexpected visitors. Eyes wide with concern.

“Dr. L/n, I’m Aaron Hotchner with Dr. Spencer Reid of the FBI.” He highlights his statement by showing his badge. “We’d like to ask you some questions.” 

“Oh, um,” The woman blinks rapidly and shakes their head before immediately saying, “Of course,” with a nod and opening the door wide to let them in.

A quirk that does not go unnoticed by Spencer, who observes how different she looks to her more formal ID photos.

—-----

You let the FBI agents into your apartment, but are now suddenly aware of the state of disarray you left it in last night. Not to mention the state you were in. 

You had just woken up and your brain wasn’t quite all there yet. If you had known you’d have guests over, you would have at least put some of your books and papers back onto their shelves rather than on your floor.

“My, uh—” You start, “Apologies! For the room and the um,”

You inhale deeply and gesture to yourself as you try to find the words before settling on an exasperated, “me.”

“No worries, miss. We don’t really call in advance.” You nod at the older man’s explanation vacantly before coming up with a response.

“Would you like anything to drink ?” You move to your fridge to get water to wake you up, and decide that it would be rude not to offer. The two decline, with the younger more busy observing your living room bookcase than the older one that sat on your couch. 

You notice that something must have interested him as he lingers on certain shelves. That section in particular had prints of dissertations you had been meaning to read, or have already read, in clear folders.

You wonder if he found his work there or something before returning with water for yourself. 

“So what can I help you with?”

“Dr. L/n, are you aware of the current string of murders that have been happening as of this year?” 

You blink rapidly again. The question catches you off guard, but you shake your head. 

“I know it’s a bad habit, and that I should, but I don’t really listen to the news.” Feeling your eyebrows quirk, you rub your hands together slowly. Making direct eye contact with Hotch, before looking at the younger man as he takes out a few papers from the folder he was holding.

“Are you familiar with these paintings then?”

 Now that piques your interest.

Dr. Spencer Reid, who sees a flicker of recognition in your eyes when it meets his own, presents various pictures of your artworks in what seems to be dimly lit areas. They’re a little dirty, but otherwise you would recognize them as your own.

 The thought instantly made something in your stomach turn.

“I–” You start, but shake your head subtly again. Unsure of what to say and how to say it next as you stare at the images. “am.” You turn your head to look back up at Spencer who nods thoughtfully.

“Recently, your paintings have been showing up at crime scenes in the D.C. area. Specifically, victims of an organized unsub that seems to be targeting people who accurately resemble the subjects in your work.” If your eyes weren’t wide enough, that bit of information had certainly opened them wider than ever before as you stared up at him.

“That, combined with the concentrated traces of 5-durastalene found in the pigments of the paint used, have led us to suspect your involvement in these murders, Dr. L/n.” You heavily feel the blink of your eyelids and rest your fingers on them to keep them closed before looking back at the two of them.

“I’m sorry,” you smile incredulously. “So you’re telling me that not only has Lunacite been identified on the paintings you’ve found, but that people who look like the personas in my private works actually exist and have since been–” You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Murdered?”

“Well that shouldn’t come as a surprise, they were your muses, weren’t they? You were commissioned?” Hotch is the one who asks and you shake your head with wide eyes.

“I didn’t even know these people existed. They were just– faces I came up with mentally with the visual library I’ve amassed over the years. I don’t really make it a habit to paint from reference. Like I said, they were private.”

“And the chemical?” You thought for a moment before your lips thinned into a line.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Agent Hotchner, but I haven’t touched anything regarding that compound in over a year. I’ve only ever worked on it in my lab on university grounds, and I don’t make a habit of bringing work home.” You scratch the hairs near the base of your hairline.

“More importantly, hundreds of students and lecturers have access to my work, my research, and my lab space. Not to mention the people who might have heard my work through academic conferences.”

You move away from your position near the living room coffee table Spencer placed the pictures on, but picked up one before you did and shook your head.

“Besides, these paintings? No one should know about them, let alone have them. I didn't sell these.” That made Spencer’s brows furrow as he looked at the other photos still on the table.

“Do you have proof?” You stay silent, but then motion for them to follow you to the door of your room.

“Well, for one, I’m sure you’d understand that most people don’t make copies of their artwork traditionally, right? Expenditure of time, work materials, effort, human error, and many other variables. It just isn’t practical nor convenient.” You ramble and look back at them to continue.

“I also don’t make the majority of my art known online. Only a good 30% makes its way to my portfolio, and the others are never to be seen by anyone else.”

“They're studies. They’re made with cheap paints, they’re subjectively not appropriate for commercial use and-–I just wouldn’t be comfortable charging anyone for them.” 

They follow you across the room, and make themselves apparent behind you.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“So if my ‘commissioned paintings’ are currently on D.C. crime scenes, and possibly in MPDC evidence,” You open the door to reveal your studio to the two agents. 

Various paint tubes, books, and brushes littered the floor, table, and boxes. A lone easel was situated near your apartment window, with an unfinished painting on it. And various canvasses, not displayed, but instead kept on tall shelves. Only the differently colored edges indicated that they were ever used.

What surprised them both however, were the same paintings in the pictures staring back at them.

 Some on the walls, some on the floor, but what was most important was that they were in this room, they were clean, and there were more of them.

You turn to look back at them with shaky eyes. “So why are they still here?”

—----

Hotch and Reid stood outside of your apartment door as you cleaned yourself up. Hotch made the call to bring you to the precinct for further investigation and for your own safety, but allowed you to freshen up before leaving with them. Not that he told you about the safety part.

You were hard to read, given your erratic reactions. It unnerved him, but he supposes it comes with the territory of being gifted. You also offered to bring in your paintings and a few other materials for forensics to test, to which while he was suspicious of, was not ungrateful for.

He made a quick call to Garcia to check attendants of any academic conferences you’ve spoken at and if anyone had been more interested than the others. When he was finished, he looked to Reid who was crossing his arms and staring at the carpeted hallway before looking back at him.

“She’s uncomfortable.” He stated plainly.

“Reid, most people would be if they just found out their hobby had been getting people killed.” Hotch said as he kept looking at his phone for anything new from the others.

“There’s certainly that, but I meant her title. ‘Doctor.’” He said in quotes, and Hotch raises his eyebrow at that but allows him to continue anyway with a curt nod.

“I mean, every time we’ve addressed her with her title, she blinks faster. Did you know it’s a common attribute that’s directly related to an increase in heart rate, which is why they’re usually correlated with lying? Initially, you would think that she faked her experience to get those credentials, but given her educational background, she must have not been given an opportunity to be referred to as such for a long time. Also, the gap year she took could’ve only exacerbated any insecurities she might have about her intellectual achievements. Plus, the lack of organization in her own home, while not wildly uncommon amongst people her age, could suggest the sincerity of her belief about compartmentalizing her work and her private life.”

“And what does that tell you?”

As Spencer was supposed to answer, a thud much like the one they heard before they entered earlier was heard again, followed by a similarly muffled, ‘sorry.’

He turns to look back at Hotch again with a small, victorious smile.

“That she doesn’t fit the profile.”

——-

taglist: @littlewolfieposts

[lasarusbird]

Now is a good time to remember that Dracula has studied canonically at the Scholomance, where the top acolyte earns the ability to control the weather and the fog by Satan himself.

The four days of storm to break the Demeter crew's sleep schedule (like with Jonathan), and thus their ability for them to be vigilant at night now, was his doing.

[immediatebreakfast]

Oh Lucy, what can we say about Lucy, the girl who has the soul of a poet, and the look of bloomed spring. A girl whose light fills the room, and who seems to be the epitome of Romanticism in every aspect of the movement.

At first glance Lucy feels out of place in a gothic novel, and in between characters like Jonathan and Mina. This girl is here? This one that writes with such bright cadence? The girl who is so expressive that her hand follows her stream of thoughts the more she opens her heart to her beloved Mina?

Don't get me wrong, all of that is true, Lucy is such a charming young lady with energy to spare, but to think that Lucy is not a gothic character:

He has a curious habit of looking one straight in the face, as if trying to read one's thoughts. He tries this on very much with me, but I flatter myself he has got a tough nut to crack. I know that from my glass. Do you ever try to read your own face? I do.

It's utterly wrong.

Lucy is so beautiful in soul, and so passionate in her expressions while being so hyper vigilant of every single thing she wants to share as she writes is something that is both interesting, and unsettling when one finally catches it. Lucy knows that Mina is the only woman, I would even dare to say the only person, that she seemly can write as freely as she wants to... And yet Lucy still reels herself back in her full feelings while only allowing herself a moment of vulnerability when she wrote her love for this Mr. Holmwood we haven't met.

Gothic characters not only come dressed in black, and/or red, sometimes they come dressed in dusty pink with a beautiful flower mask in hand.

[xxbottlecapx]

Outsider POV Steddie fic that came to me in a fever dream

Gareth notices the exact second Eddie realizes he is in love with Steve Harrington. 

Honestly, Gareth would have been very off putted by the idea of Steve being in their group, especially after whatever shit went down during the earthquake and manhunt that gave Eddie his scars, if not for the fact that every single time Gareth went to visit Eddie in the hospital, Steve was standing vigil at his door. 

Any hesitancy about Steve being a good person quickly plummeted after he watched Steve get in not one, not two, not three, but four fistfights with civilians dead set on breaking into a comatose Eddie’s room to “finish him off” even though, Gareth would come to find, Steve had some pretty severe stomach wounds as well.  

And now Gareth’s friend group included Nancy Wheeler, Robin Buckley, Jonathan Byers, Steve Harrington, and of course the new gaggle of hellfire teenager recruits. Eddie, Jeff, Grant, and Gareth have always been rather solitary due to their status as outcasts, and now they had two absolutely terrifying jocks on their team. It was a bit surreal, and their friend group’s number was in the double digits. 

Of course, a lot has changed. 

Eddie had to use arm crutches now. Gareth wasn’t sure if they were permanent or if he would be able to walk without them with enough physical therapy. He had a large scar on his cheek too, and he was always absolutely terrified, even on the good days. It was just something in his eyes, always panicked, like he would get attacked at any time. If Gareth had been in his shoes, he would be the same way, so Gareth doesn’t judge him for it. 

That’s another reason why Gareth paid so close attention to Eddie’s… feelings… regarding former jock King Steve. Eddie was always more comfortable around Steve, like Steve’s presence soothed something in him that no one else could. 

Eddie never said he liked men. Even with the outcasts, that wasn’t necessarily a safe thing to talk about. Gareth knew something about secrets that could get you killed, though, as an intersex person himself. So he knew. Had figured it out rather quickly, back in seventh grade, and had subsequently laughed his ass off in private when he realized Eddie, for all his preaching about conformity, had a thing for jocks. 

Steve was different, though, than most of the jocks Eddie had feelings for. Eddie didn’t antagonize Steve, at least not in a way Steve didn’t not-so secretly like. Steve didn’t harass Eddie either, didn’t spew hatred at him the way other jocks tended to. Gareth had honestly thought that Eddie liking jocks who treated him like dirt was going to give him a complex or something.  Maybe it had. But Steve didn’t give into that stereotype. Steve treated Eddie softly, more so than anyone else ever had, and Gareth was pretty sure that even the clueless folk in the party were aware of that softness. Eddie needed it, especially now, when he always looked two seconds away from jumping in front of a moving vehicle just for some peace and quiet. 

When Gareth first met Eddie, he nicknamed him Twitchy, because Eddie was always nervous, shaky, he flinched at everything. When his hair grew out, he got better, and eventually the name faded. The urge was back now, but Gareth only ever gave into it in private. Their own little joke. 

It’s how he bonded with Robin, actually, who he found had nicknamed Steve Tiny, despite them being the same size. Tiny and Twitchy. Dynamic duo. 

For all Gareth’s talk about Eddie being in love with Steve, he was aware of the fact that Eddie didn’t know yet. 

Especially after the earthquake, Eddie wasn’t in touch with his emotions. He never had been, Gareth doesn’t think, but it was definitely worse now. There were things Gareth didn’t know, but he had watched Steve calm Eddie down from night terrors and random daytime flashbacks enough that he wouldn’t ask unless Eddie wanted to talk about it, and Gareth was pretty sure there was something stopping him. 

It was good for everyone to get out of Hawkins, especially with all the relief efforts. It could get exhausting to be around that much destruction, even if life was back to some form of semi-normalcy. That’s why when Robin had heard about a carnival a few towns over, all the proceeds meant to help with Hawkins’ hospital, they all decided they could take a day to go, kids included since most of their schoolwork as of current came from a packet that they turned in at the end of the week. 

It was a fun day, all in all. Sure, they were a bit limited on what they could do considering Eddie’s forearm crutches and Max’s wheelchair (Gareth didn’t know there would ever come a day where he would understand the people that hate gopher holes), but being out in the open air seemed to calm everyone’s constantly frazzled nerves, at least that’s what Gareth thought. 

It was unanimously decided that they wouldn’t stay after dark. Gareth knew he had it easy compared to some of the others in the group, but even he had nightmares about when Jason’s goons held him down and tried to break his hand. He did sprain two of Gareth’s fingers, but luckily they healed quickly. Gareth’s watched multiple of their new group members have meltdowns over flickering lights, which are much easier to notice at night. The dark wasn’t safe for any of them, some people still convinced Eddie was a murderer despite the official story of Henry Creel. Gareth says official because despite not knowing what actually happened, he remembers all of Eddie’s rants about not trusting the government, he’s seen the scars and the nightmares, and he knows it’s all dog water.

The sun was just starting to inch its way past the horizon, purple and orange splayed across the sky like ribbons, as they came upon their last activity. 

Face painting. 

Robin and Max had spent more than half the day trying to convince Steve to get matching flowers with them. Eventually, despite Gareth’s discomfort of the idea, he said he’d do it too, which led to the entire group (except Mike) agreeing to it. 

Steve was by far the most nervous of the bunch about the paint. Gareth liked Steve, with both his masculine and feminine traits. Gareth had always been too scared to be feminine, afraid that someone would figure him out. Gareth looked up to Steve in that way. He didn’t think Steve was aware of his more ‘feminine’ traits, and he’s sure if he pointed it out, it would make Steve stop, so he never did. It’s like Steve gravitated towards those things despite thinking he shouldn’t. Gareth respected the contrast of a guy who could pummel a man twice his height that also liked wearing lipgloss. 

Steve went last to get his face painted, the rest of the group roughhousing to the side. Jeff had Mike in a headlock, for whatever reason, and Max and Erica were urging them on, whisper-yelling fight fight fight as to not startle Steve. 

Robin was comforting Steve as the woman at the booth readied her supplies. She was going to mimic what she had done on Robin, a cute yet simple pink and yellow floral design on her cheekbones and crawling up the side of her eye. 

It became apparent pretty quickly that Steve’s nerves were on high alert. Maybe it was the kids, or just the remembrance of night’s oncoming torrent. Steve kept flinching away from the wet brush, though the wonderful lady manning the booth didn’t seem upset. She kept talking gently, her locs held together in a large bun, some paint on her face and quite a lot of paint in her hair. Gareth didn’t know how she had the patience. 

Gareth couldn’t hear what was being said, but Robin kept talking, her hand in Steve’s. She got him into a heated conversation, confusing the fuck out of Gareth, before he realized she was trying to distract him. As Robin ranted, Steve arguing occasionally, the woman running the stand began to slowly paint the side of Steve’s face. 

The woman finally finished, moving her colorful hands in a flourish, and Steve thanked her, albeit with a slightly red face when he figured out what was happening. 

Robin says something else as Steve gets out of the tiny purple chair set out for him and Steve throws his head back in laughter, the bright drawing on the side of his smiling face visible to Gareth. Gareth looks to his side to say something to Eddie, probably a mindless joke of some sort, and 

Oh, 

There it was. 

Eddie was looking at Steve like he had been punched in the gut, as though all the air had been ripped from him. Like Steve was the most beautiful thing in the world and just looking at him hurt. His hands were clutching his crutches so tightly his fists were turning white. Eddie’s mouth just barely hung open, as though he had forgotten to close it or just wasn’t aware enough of his body to do so, his wide eyes dilated in a way that would have made Gareth think he was on something if not for the fact that Eddie hasn’t even touched pot since he got out of the hospital. 

There was so much devotion in that look that it would have startled Gareth if he didn’t already know. 

Thank God no one else was watching, because Gareth knew everyone would figure it out in seconds if they saw the look on Eddie’s face right now. There was no denying it. 

Steve laughs again at something Robin said, and Eddie audibly gulps. 

Well, he’s finally figured it out, then, Gareth thinks. 

“Close your mouth.” Gareth whispers, bumping Eddie’s side as Robin and Steve wave to the artist and start walking towards them. It snaps Eddie out of the Steve-imposed trance, and he visibly shakes himself off, as though Steve’s impression on him had to be dealt away with by force. It would have been cute to see Eddie blushing so if it wasn’t also terrifying, Eddie’s eyes widening in horror now as he, upon just realizing he was probably in love with Steve, is also realizing that Gareth saw it. 

“It’s okay. I know. You’re okay.” Gareth whispered again, just so Eddie could hear. He put his hand on Eddie’s shoulder, partially to stop him from trying to get away and partially because he knew touch comforted him.

 They would have to have a conversation about it later so that Eddie wasn’t scared Gareth would tell anyone. By not moving away from him, Gareth hoped he was able to make his message clear that Gareth was not judging. He had no reason to judge, especially considering his budding crush on Will Byers. 

Gareth sighed, trying to give Eddie an encouraging look that, luckily, did seem to calm him down a little, a shaky grimace making its way back to him.

Now all Gareth needed to do was find out how to tell Eddie that he was pretty sure Steve liked him back. 

Yes this is based off of that one Anne With an E scene. 

[lxgentlefolkcomic]

First page || Previous page || Next page

Start reading Episode 1

Dialogue transcripts:

Panel 1

Van Helsing: …And another thing: Do not forget to write! At university it is oh! So lonely. And remember, I am but a boat trip away for when you shall need me.

Panel 2

Van Helsing: Meanwhile you, friend John, bear the duty to keep an eye out for new danger for the youngest.

Panel 3

Jack: Thank you, professor. But we are all equally capable, and we work best when we all stay vigilant for one another.

Panel 4

Van Helsing (offscreen): Ah, indeed friend John. The old cat goes, but her kits have learned to hunt well.

Panel 5

Arthur: Yet I cannot help but wonder… if a new evil emerges, can we face it with just the few of us?

Panel 6

Arthur (voiceover): With just one enemy, we lost Lucy… we almost lost Mina and Quincey… and he killed so many more.

Panel 7

Mina: And the reanimated king took all of us in this house to stop him. He nearly killed the Nortons… and Jonathan.

Panel 8

Irene (offscreen): Which brings us to something Mina and I discussed earlier…

Panel 9

Irene: We believe we should form a league.

[concreteemo]

The Ghost inside and and Noah???? THE VOCALS??? Oh my yahhhh

[tomsmusictaste]

In Her Own Words // Raining In Toronto (feat. Jonathan Vigil)

[dragonmama76]

Beginnings Part 2

read Part One, and Interlude first. Part 3 is done!.

Eddie was the opposite of calm.  He was terrified well beyond rational thought and he had one intention.  Survive. By any means necessary.  When he jumped out of the boat and pressed the edge of the broken bottle against his attacker’s throat nothing could have stopped him.  Except.  “Steve, this is Steve!”  Steve.  Steve who he had wronged.  Steve who he had bullied.  Steve with the perfect life that maybe wasn’t so perfect.  And he stopped.  

************

Eddie’s cup runneth over.  His public display of dominance had been more than enough to establish a reputation that he was not to be fucked with.  He didn’t even need to torment Steve to keep the memory alive, but Eddie continued his menacing glances and subtle jabs nonetheless. Because he could.  Because it was fun.  It was that feeling you get when you’re five years old and you’ve just completed some kick ass move like jumping off the swing at it’s zenith and you shout to your parents, “Look at me!  Look at me!”  His own parents had never looked.  They had never been there to begin with.  But now.  Now everyone was looking at what he had done and it felt so fucking good.  He couldn’t be too obvious since the basketball team had rallied around Steve, keeping him out of bounds most of the time, but he still found sly little opportunities to flash his knife or murmur a not so subtle threat when Steve came near.  It was enough to keep his high feeling fresh.

By the time the school year was over, even local drug dealer Rick Lipton had heard of him.  When Eddie decided that manual labor didn’t fit his new image, he proposed they begin a business relationship and Rick was quick to agree.  He knew that Eddie could handle himself if there was trouble and having a dealer embedded in the high school made sense.  Eddie spent the next two years dealing at school and weekend parties and while he wasn’t exactly accepted, no one messed with him and he only rarely had to display his feral nature to the jocks that ran the school.   In the meantime, he convinced the theater teacher to sponsor an after school club for his gang of nerds.  Mr. Hughes didn’t know what Dungeons & Dragons was, exactly, but it felt dramatic and he was happy to oblige.  If only Eddie put as much energy into his academic responsibilities as he had done with his social life he would have been out of High School in a quick minute.  But he was too busy enjoying the life he created for himself to consider the consequences.

Senior year, Steve pulled up to the school in his BMW feeling pretty great for the first time in his high school career. He had an amazing girlfriend, basketball was starting soon, and best of all there would be no more run-ins with Munson.   It wasn’t that he was scared of him, exactly.  After that day in the cafeteria Freshman year Munson had backed off for the most part.  Sure he still glared at him and whispered threats and flashed his stupid knife, but for the most part Steve was able to avoid him and pretend he didn’t exist.  It helped that they never had any classes together.  And while the freak had managed to be at every house party Steve attended, he preferred alcohol over drugs anyway so they had zero interaction. And beyond that, Steve now knew there were much scarier things in the world than a high school kid with a knife.  No, he wasn’t afraid, it was just…a lot.  Munson was obviously still a live wire waiting to strike and Steve had to be vigilant.  He had put up walls and created a persona of his own to balance out the bully that still dogged him and it took a lot of effort to mask his more vulnerable, sensitive side.  Most of his energy went to creating the character of King Steve that everyone now expected and that he hated..  He had done things he regretted, that shit show with Jonathan Byers for example, and he had willingly lost friends in the process, good riddance to Tommy H. and Carol, but he was trying to scale back the arrogant jock attitude and be more himself, especially with Nancy.

His guard was so low that when he sauntered into his first class ready to take on the world Steve was completely blindsided when the freak, himself, pushed past him to grab a seat in the back.  Steve could feel the pinpricks of tears forming.  He couldn’t do this.  Not again.  Not when he thought he was finally free.  He bolted from the room and straight into the bathroom before anyone could really register he was gone.  Shit.  Shit shit shit.  He was pretty sure someone up there hated him these days.  He had fought an other-worldly creature no problem, but it was still Eddie Munson who had the power to make him run.  This year was officially going to suck.

Eddie watched Steve run from the classroom and grinned.  He still had it, baby.  Maybe his second senior year would actually be fun.

Steve’s senior year was anything but fun.   Steve graduated.  His parents didn’t come.  His ex-girlfriend didn’t come.  A bunch of middle school kids came and cheered for him and that was nice, but also kind of embarrassing.  This was apparently his life now.  The brightspot?  Eddie Munson’s name wasn’t called.  Not that Steve was listening for it.  Eddie Munson could go to hell as far as he was concerned.  But he couldn’t help but feel a little relieved not to have to share this day with him.

Eddie watched from under the bleachers as Steve Harrington received his diploma along with the rest of his class.  Whatever.  Fuck him and his perfect hair and his perfect life.

Eddie was definitely pissed to be doing Senior year for the third time, but there were still moments of joy like when he gathered new freshman sheepies.  His original group of freshmen had finally graduated without him, but he still had Jeff, Frank, and Gareth and now he was ready to induct a new crew.  They were a little wary, and if he didn’t know better he’d say they looked kind of shellshocked, sort of like some of Uncle Wayne’s friends who had been to ‘Nam.  With Eddie’s outlandish personality and dramatic welcome they opened up eventually.  He liked the curly hair kid, Dustin, the best.  God that kid never shut up, though which, depending on the topic, could be annoying.

Right now Eddie was extra annoyed because the topic he wouldn’t shut up about was Steve Fucking Harrington.  Was that guy going to haunt him for the rest of his life?  

“Eddie, you’d like Steve if you knew him.  I asked him and he was kind of weird about it, but he says he didn’t really get to know you in high school and I think that’s a shame because he was bullied really badly and I bet you could have helped him and protected him.”

“What are you talking about, kid?  King Steve was never bullied a day in his life.” Eddie scoffed.

“No, he was.” Lucas nodded sagely.  “He said that the only reason it didn’t totally destroy him was that he had the basketball team on his side.  That’s one of the reasons I’m doing basketball.  You got to have people on your side.  That’s what Steve says.”

“Steve says,” Eddie mimicked, “Jocks can’t be bullied, they ARE the bullies.”

“That’s not true.  I’m not a bully.”  Lucas muttered.

“Yeah, well you’re more nerd than jock.” 

“Steve’s a nerd too.” Dustin insisted, “He just doesn’t show it, but he watches Star Wars with me all the time and he has a huge collection of Spiderman comics stashed in his bedroom.  Even Robin calls him a dingus.  Do you know Robin?  I think they should date but she says they are platonic with a capital P.  I think that’s crap with a capital C. They’ll get their shit together eventually.”

“I….don’t know if I know Robin?”  Eddie’s head is starting to spin.  “So who bullied King Steve?”

“He won’t say, but it started freshman year.  He gave us a big talk before school started about being safe and staying in a group.  I guess the kid, like, followed him around and would push him and stuff.  And one time he even pulled a knife on him.  That’s crazy right?  He said he was afraid to go to school for all of freshman year.  It’s awful because Steve had, well he wouldn’t want me to say, but he doesn’t have great parents so home sucked and school sucked.  I wish you guys had been friends. And then maybe he could have been in Hellfire or something.  He’s great with a bat and I bet his character…”

Eddie couldn’t listen anymore. His brain was on overload.  Had he really done all that to Steve?  Actually caused him pain?  

Well.  Fuck.

“Roooobin,” Steve whined, “Are you even listening to me?”  They were behind the counter at Family Video rewinding tapes while they waited for even one customer to come in to relieve their boredom.

“I AM listening, Steve,” she reasoned, “But I think you’re letting your jockish prejudices get in the way of rational thought.  Hellfire is just a group of nerds who role play and I know Eddie can look all scary and intimidating, but he’s totally not a bad guy.  We were in band together last year and he’s honestly just a big goofball.  Yeah, he’s loud and okay, a drug dealer, but I know for sure that he doesn’t sell to underclassmen so you don’t have to worry about that.  The kids are fine with him.”

“You don’t know him like I do.”  Steve glowered, “And…well, I’m afraid that if he knows the kids are associated with me that he’ll, like, take it out on them.”

“Why?  What did you do to him?” Robin glared and Steve knew she thought there was some bullshit King Steve incident in their past and all of a sudden it was too much.  He couldn’t bring himself to tell her how weak he had been, but also this was ROBIN and he couldn’t stand the idea that she thought of him that way.

“NOTHING!” he burst out, “I did NOTHING to him EVER.” And suddenly he couldn’t breathe.  Tears pooled in his eyes and it felt like something was going to burst out of his chest, like that gross Sigourney Weaver film Robin had made him watch.  He sank to his knees and pressed his hands to his eyes.  

“Okay.  You’re okay, Steve.” Robin hunched over him.  She placed a firm hand on his chest, “I've got you.  Breathe with me.  In and out.  You’re safe.  I’m here and you’re safe.”

Steve managed some gasping breaths and could feel his heart rate coming down.  Right.  This was Robin, his soulmate, he could tell her and she would understand.  “It started the first day of freshman year…”

Eddie didn’t end Hellfire early, even though he felt nauseous and increasingly distracted.  He owed it to the group as their DM to see it through so he pushed his feelings aside and let the kids get through a tough battle before calling it a night.  “Okay, that’s it for now.  You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here.  Y'all got rides lined up?”

“Yeah, we’re getting picked up,” muttered Mike, “He’s probably already out there waiting.”  “Alright then, chariots may wait no longer.  Scram!”  Eddie hurried everyone out the door and quickly cleaned up the papers and books sprawled on the table.  As he made his way out he could hear the kids chattering away about the most recent developments in the campaign and as he burst through the gym door he heard a sharp whistle.  “Can we please let’s go before your parents kill me for missing your curfew?  I’ve been out here forever waiting for you guys to be done.”  Eddie knew that voice.  He looked up straight into the eyes of Steve Harrington.  He was dressed in his regular polo and jeans, hair perfect as always, leaning confidently on the hood of his BMW, but as Eddie caught his eye he saw the boy flinch and round his shoulders.  Christ Almighty.  What had Eddie done?

Eddie didn’t even remember driving home.  He was at school in his van and then he was fully dressed in his bed.  Over and over his mind replayed the events of the last four years.  He wasn’t a stranger to reminiscing about his days as the Freak who humbled the King, but this time he tried to remember that Steve was a flesh and blood person, a kid, really, like Dustin or Mike or Lucas.  A kid with real feelings and problems who, maybe, didn’t deserve to get picked on for entertainment.  And wasn’t that the thing.  Eddie had never stopped to consider that what he was doing might have been just as bad, or even worse, than what had been done to him.  Maybe Harrington had deserved it?  By his junior year he certainly seemed like a real asshole.  But also, Eddie never really remembered seeing Steve initiate any of the prickish behaviors his sports ball friends liked to engage in.  Now that he thought about it, he remembered a few times where Steve hung back and helped pick up dropped books and papers or check that a kid was okay after having been tripped in the hall.  Eddie groaned.  This wasn’t the first time he’d messed up in his life, but it felt like the most important. 

Eddie didn’t get out of bed for three days.  His uncle tried to coax him out with favorite meals and rented movies, but Eddie couldn’t face him.  Uncle Wayne still thought Eddie was a good person and that was decidedly untrue.  On day three he decided that he needed a new plan.  He wasn’t even sure of the ultimate goal but he knew that step one would be making sure that Steve was okay.

“Robin,” Steve hissed.  “He’s out there again.”  Steve was staring out the front window of Family Video trying to look like he wasn’t staring out the window at the man casually leaning on a telephone pole across the street.  He knew it sounded crazy, but he was pretty sure that Eddie Munson was stalking him.  It was nothing he could prove because it was always in public but increasingly when he was out and about he would feel eyes on him and when he turned to look, Eddie would be there.  Yeah, alright, he was always doing something totally normal like buying groceries or having a smoke.  And sure, Eddie never approached him or glared at him the way he did when they were in school which, honestly felt weird.  And even weirder, a couple of times when Eddie noticed Steve noticing Eddie, he had smiled abashedly and fluttered his fingers in a little wave.  If Steve had to define it, he would have to say that Eddie was 'reverse bullying' him.  Was that even a thing?  Maybe he was just fattening him up with his pretty smiles and doe eyes like a lamb being fed before he was slaughtered.  It was disconcerting to say the least.

Robin gave Steve a sympathetic shrug.  She had been appropriately outraged when he had given her the details of his run-ins with Eddie but it was still hard for her to see him as anything other than the loud funny guy from band.  “Just ignore him.  He lives in this town just like us so you’re bound to see him now and again. And, so far at least, he’s been good to the kids.  Maybe try to let it go?  And speaking of band, did I tell you what Vickie did yesterday?....”  Steve turned away from the window to concentrate on Robin’s latest installment of the life of her crush.  Let it go.  Okay. He could try.

Eddie watched as Steve turned away.  He had learned a lot from watching him these past months.  Steve was kind to cashiers, patient when he was rung up incorrectly, and flirty in a dorky kind of way that never paid off.  He was always carting Eddie’s Hellfire kids places like the arcade or the diner or the mall two towns over and it seemed like he did it out of the goodness of his heart. He was a hard worker, staying late at work to clean thoroughly and lock up.  He was a good friend to Buckley, dancing with her and running around when the store was empty. Eddie could see why Dustin thought they were more than just friends. From the outside, Steve seemed to be just fine, but Eddie watched and he saw more.  When he thought no one was paying attention, Steve looked sad.  He flinched at loud noises.  And at night he went home to an empty house where, Eddie knew, he had to be lonely.  Eddie wasn’t so naive as to think all Steve’s problems stemmed from a stupid kid in high school who wouldn't leave him alone, but Eddie felt responsible for adding to his pain.  He felt lost, except for one thing. Every so often he would catch a glimpse of Steve with Robin or Dustin and his face would light up with the most painfully beautiful smile.  It was like looking into the face of the sun after a long rain and Eddie couldn’t catch his breath gazing at him.  “I see you Steve Harrington and I will do whatever it takes to keep you smiling. I goddamn swear it."

———————-

More to come. Tell me what you think!!

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[drac-kool-aid]

I'm thinking today about the running pattern of sleep deprivation and exhaustion in Dracula, and like how it truly affects the story and the character beats if you really think about it.

Like, okay. First, we have Jonathan, whose sleep deprivation was purposeful, a way to slowly eat away at his sanity by Dracula. Mina, who has to stay awake to protect Lucy from sleep walking, who spends her days in a mess of anxiety and stress, exhausting herself further. Lucy sleeps and sleeps, and yet becomes even more exhausted. The one thing that can give her relief is also when she's most in danger. Jack, dealing with his emotions by working to exhaustion and then experiencing insomnia, and rightly being cautious about taking choral because it was addictive, so working more.

Soon, there will be more sleepless vigils, more hurried traveling (where sleep is hard to get), more high emotions causing poor sleep, and they all will fear the night for the dangers it brings.

All these characters are, to their core, DEEPLY exhausted. And the problem with exhaustion like that? One good sleep doesn't repair you. It takes weeks of good rest to make up for the sleep debt some of these people have. Even Jonathan and Lucy's bedrests are exactly restful. Sure, they are probably sleeping most of the time, but judging by the descriptions of their conditions, they are tired to the bone and greatly weakened any time they are awake.

And like, it messes with you just as much as Dracula. I'm not kidding when I say time feels different. You feel like it's a soup around you. Your emotions are harder to control. I mean, sure, you get angry easier, but from personal experience, you usually just get more and more overwhelmed. And, in a true "the straw that breaks the camels back" situation, you usually end up breaking down about some small, inconsequential thing and end up sobbing. You're easily confused, easily lost, and feel like you're drifting away.

Like, I want to cry just thinking about it. It's just an extra, subtle added layer of horror.

[five-miles-over]

Tom Hiddleston Characters: How They Would Propose (To You)

(Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or images. This is just a fun listicle, not designed to offend anyone. As always, please feel free to leave comments and/or constructive criticism below. Thank you, and without any further ado, please enjoy!)

Characters in this list: Will Ransome, King Henry V, Prince Loki Odinson, Loki of Asgard and Jotunheim, Bill Hazeldine, Coriolanus, Jonathan Pine, Robert Laing, Magnus Martinsson, Oakley, Thomas Sharpe, James Conrad, and Jaguar Villain! Tom Hiddleston.

Also, my sincerest apologies - they all turned into mini-fics.

Will Ransome from The Essex Serpent

Reverend Will would propose to you after a Sunday roast dinner, after your family invited him to your home. You were helping to clear the table with the rest of the ladies in your family when Will coughed to announce his presence. At once, everyone cleared the dining room, leaving you alone with the vicar.

"A word please?" He politely called you by name, his hands clasped in front of him. Will sat you down in one of the empty chairs. Gods how he wanted to reach out and tuck one of your stray hairs behind your ear in that very moment, one of the intimate things that he longed to do with you. Intimate things that would be proper in the eyes of God if you were his lawfully wedded wife. He did not sit down, and gently began talking to you. "For some time, I have been charmed by you. Not just your looks, that is not to say that you are not a lovely woman. You are most lovely, but I have also been charmed by your kindness, your humility, and your…virtue."

Will knelt before you, looking up with the most earnest gaze. "If you will bestow upon me the fortune of being your husband, then in return I shall do everything to keep you safe and comfortable.  I shall speak to your father, and we will be wedded in holy matrimony. You and I shall walk together upon this path of life, and I have no doubt that a virtuous woman like you will aid me in carrying out what the Lord decrees of us. My sweetest, please say that you will marry me."

Henry V from The Hollow Crown

With Henry, there was not much of a proposal to begin with. The marriage between you and the King of England was arranged by your father and his men, along with the king and his men. Still, Henry coaxed your father into having at least one private audience with you before the wedding ceremonies, so that he may properly court you as any suitor would. 

'My dearest lady," Henry began as soon as he was alone with you in his study while your father and his men stood vigil outside. "Lower thy veil, and let me behold your face." He reached forward and removed the hood of your cloak, smiling as he beheld your beauty for the first time. "Cheeks rosier than the flowers that bloom in springtime. Your lips and eyes are so enticing, they call to me like sirens. Yours is a face that I shall never tire of seeing.

I confess to you, my lady, that words are not my greatest strength. Were it so easy that I could simply strap on armor or fire an arrow into a target or vault into my saddle for a wife, I should quickly vault for a wife. Alas, tis not so. For a woman's heart is truly one of the most difficult conquests to embark upon. Nevertheless, tis a conquest that I shall duly pursue if you can deign to love me.

If you can love such a man as me, someone whose words are not their strongest suit and someone whose fidelity to you is true, then take me. Take a soldier, and in taking a soldier, you will take a king." Henry knelt before you and offered you his hand. "Sweetest of all maidens, canst thou love me?"

Prince Loki Odinson of Asgard

"I have called you to discuss a matter of great importance, my lady." Loki enunciated the formal title at the end in an attempt to conceal the butterflies in his stomach. He summoned you to the palace gardens at the house before twilight, when the sky would be decorated with streaks of orange and pink. You walked alongside him through the bushes and the groves of flowers. Loki clasped his hands behind her back, walking as if he ruled every inch of earth on which he stepped. 

He continued, "Yes, tis true that Thor, my brother, is the one whom my father has decreed to ascend the throne of Asgard," The younger prince of Asgard looked forward with a solemn expression while you listened with intrigue. "But he is incompetent." Loki turned to you. "He is idiotic and brash. You know as well as I do that he does not encompass the values of a king.

"Was he not the one who wished to invade Jotunheim alone, my prince?" You stopped in your tracks, just as the sun began setting into the horizon behind you.

"Yes, he was. It was all his idea, my lady." Loki did not bother to include his role in instigating Thor, it would not help him in this moment whatsoever. If he delayed this moment any further, he was convinced the words would be stuck in his throat, forever unable to escape. "You are one of the few people with whom I can share these thoughts, my lady." He sighed, his gaze fixated upon you and your beauty. "It is why I have called you here. In the coming future, I will need to protect Asgard from my brother's foolishness. And for that I should like to have a worthy companion by my side."

Loki conjured a shining dagger with a gold hilt out of thin air and promptly fell to one knee before you. The hilt of the dagger was engraved with the words, 'Min hærr, duonningen av mitt hjerte' (My beloved, Queen of my heart) Still on bended knee, Loki looked up at you with an expression of innocence that you never knew existed within him - wide eyes, baited breath, a meek expression. As if all his life were being wagered on a single thing right now. 

"I wish to make you my wife," Loki declared, his lips trembling. "Should you accept, I will bring my proposal to your family, and then we will be wed with due ceremony. And if you decide otherwise, then I shall…" he swallowed, "I shall respect your choice."

Loki of Asgard and Jotunheim from the Marvel Cinematic Universe

"This looks like something stolen from the Graham Norton Show." You raised an eyebrow when Loki handed you an orange and purple card.

"It's a scavenger hunt." Loki said with a twinkle in his eye. "Every clue leads you to the next one."

"I know how a scavenger hunt works, Loki." You rolled your eyes and flipped over the card. "Was this your idea, or is this some ridiculous team-bonding activity put together by Steve Rogers?"

"No. You see,…I have some errands to do, but at the same time, I have an obligatory excursion with the Lady Valkyrie."

You crossed your arms. "So why the scavenger hunt?"

Loki brightly answered. "Well, it makes the errands all the more fun!"

"Alright, but you owe me, Loki." 

"Good girl." The God of Mischief kissed you not the cheek and disappeared into thin air.

You glanced down and saw that the first card, which told you to pick up six cupcakes ordered under Loki's name. The cupcakes were from a specific café….that just so happened to be the place where you and Loki had your first date, which was set up by a far-too-enthusiastic Thor. The moment you got there, a waiter brought you a "complimentary" cupcake of your favorite flavor…along with another orange and purple card. 

The second card took you to the library, on the pretext of picking up a book that was on hold for Loki. There, the librarian handed you the book - Divine Comedy by Dante - and another book that you recognized. It was Pride and Prejudice, one of the first pieces of "Midgardian literature" that you introduced to Loki, a book that you were all too happy to fangirl over. But inside the book was - yes- another orange and purple card. 

The third card sent you to pick up Loki's dry-cleaning. (Really, Loki? Dry cleaning?) At the dry-cleaners, the person at the register handed you a transparent garment bag containing a black tuxedo with a ruffled white shirt. And then you were given a second garment bag with an emerald green gown embellished with diamonds. You couldn't help but stare a few moments at the pretty, expensive-looking gown. Before the person at the register could hand you another card, you made a mental note to ask Loki about the gown and whom it was for. You guessed it was probably for himself for the times he was feeling fabulous. Actually, Loki also liked to wear absolutely nothing when he was feeling his most fabulous…but that didn't matter right now.

The fourth card took you to the park where Loki confessed his love for you for the first time, on the pretext of picking up Loki's forgotten jacket and buying a bouquet of white flowers.

The fifth card took you across the city just to get a particular bottle of liquor that Loki had liked. Okay, now this guy was having a little too much fun with you right now. 

You were relieved when the sixth card, given to you by the liquor store clerk, led you back to the Avengers compound, to the same room where you began this entire scavenger hunt. You huffed a little, setting the box of cupcakes, the books, the two garment bags, Loki's jacket, the flowers, and liquor gently on a table. "Loki? Loki, where are you?"

Loki stood in the middle of the Avengers' common room, wearing polished gold armor over a black and green leather tunic with long, dark trousers. His hair was combed perfectly in place, and his hands clasped behind his back. He stood surrounded by a few candles and fairy lights hanging against the curtains.

"Okay, I need answers…" You sighed, already tired from running around all afternoon. "Loki, I got your things, just tell me what the gown is for and the…the liquor and the…Are you throwing a party or something?"

"I'm getting married."

"What?!" You gulped, reaching for the nearest couch. "I…what? You're getting married, why didn't you tell me? And…" You felt your head start to spin, preparing yourself for the worst. Whatever happened to all the times he said he loved you? Was he just using you to put together some kind of romantic gesture for someone else, just a tool?! Perhaps this is what you get for letting the God of Mischief into your life. Betrayal. "Well, I hope they make you happy, Loki." You relented, putting your head in your hands.

"She does." 

"Good." You murmured, trying your best not to cry in this moment. That was the last thing you wanted him to see. "Is that gown for her too?"

"Hm-hm. Of course, it'll probably end up on the floor after the engagement party, hehe."

"Loki, I am in no mood for your jokes right now." After a few moments, you looked up. 

"Come on,…have a sense of humor."

"NO!" You yelled, getting up from the couch. "No, I will not have a sense of humor right now! You used me! You used me, and lied to me. You told me to do all of these errands, like picking up dry cleaning, and buying liquor, without telling me that you were going to propose to someone else! You could have at least told me, just so I'd have some kind of closure. But no, you couldn't even think to do that. You told me it was a scavenger hunt, like I wasn't worth knowing the truth.

I...I did this because I care about you, Loki! I care about you like some kind of idiot who actually thought that you might like me the same way that I liked you. That right there, making me like you might just be the worst thing you have ever done me." You took a moment to breathe, and ran your hands through your hair. 

"Ugh…And you made me even pick up her engagement dress! What kind of person makes someone do that?!" You couldn't even think about the words you were spitting out, too busy with the hot tears clouding your vision. 

"The kind of person who knows how good it'll look when you wear it."

"What?!" You were taken aback all of a sudden. 

Loki approached you with a hint of nervousness. "Darling, you are one of the best things that has ever happened to me. I know I'm not easy to be with, that I drive you mad sometimes, and I make you put up with a lot. I...I should've practiced this more." He laughed under his breath. "Why didn't I?" Blinking, he pushed his hair back before continuing. 

"What I'm trying to say is,...my life has never been the same since I met you. You're the most steadfast ally, a wonderful friend, and best of all, you are the most passionate and loyal person I have ever known. I could never imagine my life without you, and I never want to. That's how much I love you."

The God of Mischief fell to one knee, and held up a small emerald ring with a gold band.

"Will you marry me?"

Bil Hazeldine from Suburban Shootout

"Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise, sweetheart." Bill pulled his father's car into a driveway, and took your hand. "Just close your eyes, alright?"

"Alright…" After a few steps, you could hear Bill opening a door and the sound of a shopkeeper's bell, along with the muted conversations of various patrons. The scents of vanilla and grease reached you almost immediately. 

Bill held you close and whispered that you could open your eyes now.

When you opened your eyes, you laughed a little. "We haven't been here in a while…"

"You remember it?"

"How could I ever forget?" You kissed him on the cheek, and let him find a table for you. 

Bill's proposal began with him taking you to the milkshake diner where the two of you had your first date. After a bit of small talk over a banana split, Bill not-so-discretely excused himself. While you sat at the table with your spoon and checked your phone, Bill made his way to the jukebox with his hands in his jeans' pockets, feeling the small box inside. He'd almost thought about wearing a suit for this occasion, but his mum said it would make you suspicious. And his father suggested hiding the ring inside your ice cream to be more romantic , but Bill was terrified by the idea of you accidentally choking. Yes, keeping the ring with him was a better idea.

Bill took a deep breath and slipped a coin into the jukebox, flipping through the various tracks to find one of the songs you enjoyed. When he found one, he pressed play and called your name. Bill extended his hand out, offering to dance with you. He twirled you, and the two of you swayed in time with the music, smiling all the while. At the end of the song, Bill proudly kissed you on the lips.

He gently said your name, and pushed a bit of hair out of your face. "You're the one I want to dance with to every song…There's just no one like you, no one I could ever dream of that's just as wonderful as you are." Bill reached in his pocket for the small box, and fell to one knee, not caring who might be watching you in the diner. Inside the small box was a 0.3-carat diamond ring with a silver band. "Would you make me the happiest man in the whole world, and marry me?"

Caius Martius Coriolanus from Coriolanus

Coriolanus invited your family to dine with him and his mother one night on the pretext of an important matter concerning two important families of Roman nobility. It was not the first time he'd done such a thing, inviting your family to break bread with him and his mother. He had even visited your father's home before, sharing wine with your father and your brothers from time to time. It was through those meetings that Coriolanus fell more in love with your smile, the way you bit your lip when you were thinking,…and even the way your laugh infected him like a plague. And if there was anything more deadly to him than your simple, unadulterated laughter, then it was your beauty which had him fighting the urge to smile whenever you walked into a room or whenever he heard your voice.

But despite his best efforts, it became quickly aware to everyone in your family how besotted the general was with you. The way his head unintentionally bowed whenever he was in your presence, as if you were the sun and he would go blind if he looked you straight in the eye, never went unnoticed. The fact that you were the only person who could make him laugh, and that the simple mention of your name was enough to make the powerful General and conqueror of Corioles lower his usual barking voice made your family - and anyone else in the general's presence - giggle under their breath.

So when everyone had finished the prima mensa, Coriolanus stood up and raised his cup. "I have called you here tonight, to make a proposition," he declares with the same voice that he would use to speak to the Senate. "An alliance between our families…" The general turned his gaze to you for a moment, and exhaled to calm his racing heart, which only quickened when you looked back up at him. "If you will bestow upon me this honor, I wish to make your daughter…my wife. She is virtuous, and kind,…endowed with a noble background."

He waved for two of the servants of his household to present your mother and father with gifts of imported silk and valuable coins. And for you, the general had his servant gift place a set of golden jewelry - a girdle, five bracelets, and a layered necklace with rubies - in your lap. Underneath the girdle was a small piece of parchment with the words,

"I long to see you wearing these on our wedding night, my lady. Only these."

You turned red, and looked up and the general, politely expressing your thanks. 

"Should you accept," Coriolanus gave you a nod and turned to your family. "We shall make our alliance official in the presence of the gods. Your daughter shall be my wife, and I her husband. I will defend her from harm and protect her, as I have defended Rome time and time again. Your daughter will be cared for, and all I ask for in return, is your fidelity. Pledge to me your allegiance, for I shall need your influence when the time comes for the elections in the Senate.

Instead of a dowry give me your loyalty, and I swear that your priceless gem of a daughter will want for nothing for as long as I live. Do I have your word?"

Oakley from Unrelated

"Let's get married." Oakley off-handedly said while the two of you stood outside, leaning against the wall while he smoked a cigarette. 

You raised an eyebrow. "Are you kidding?"

"No." He took another drag of his cigarette and turned to you with his ocean blue eyes and tousled, dirty blond curls. "We should get married."

"Who are you and what have you done with Oakley?" 

"What, you don't think I'm good enough to marry you?" He protested. 

Shaking your head, you laughed. "No, it's not that…"

"Well, then what is it?" Oakley crossed his arms and furrowed his brow at the sight of you laughing. "We have fun together, we make each other laugh,…we look good together, especially when naked-"

That was enough for you to playfully hit him on the shoulder, causing him to chuckle. He continued, "We like each other. We have this great relationship."

"But are you sure this is what you want?" You asked. "Don't you want to explore, try things? Do stuff before you're tied down?"

"Why would I do that? When there's this…beautiful, funny, smart, and sexy girl right there with me, I'm not even looking at anyone else." Oakley simply countered. "I like what we have, and i don't want to let it go. We can travel, explore the world, and I'll do it all with you." There was no sign of hesitation in his voice, but maybe it was just the cigarette fueling his courage. He came closer to you, and looked dead serious. "I don't want what we have to be just something we try for as long as we can, something we leave up to chance. I want forever with you."

"Forever?"

"Forever." Oakley knelt before you, his eyes going from a vivid cyan to a soft, almost pale bag blue. "I don't have a ring but…" He removed his necklace and presented it to you like an offering at an altar, calling your name. "Marry me."

Jonathan Pine from The Night Manager

Jonathan had been working with MI-6 for almost two years, embarking on various mission for them after he gained acclamation for helping to carry out Operation Limpet. He, along with officer Angela Burr, took down the infamous arms dealer Richard Roper once and for all.

Since then, Jonathan found himself a new home in London and got back in touch with you, the one who stole his heart back when he was still working as a night manager. He didn't know how much he truly missed you until you answered his letter, telling him about the twists and turns your life had taken since your last encounter with Pine. After about three weeks of exchanging handwritten letters - simply because they reminded you both of a simpler time and felt more personal - with Jonathan using a pseudonym to protect you, he invited you to visit London for a holiday. 

And those five days you spent in London were some of the best five days of Jonathan's life. He delighted in your innocence, the way you happily took his arm and strolled through the city, randomly surprising him with kisses. Arm in arm, without a care in the world except for each other, enjoying all that life would have to offer…This is how it should be, Jonathan thought to himself as he gazed at the sparkle in your eyes, the color in your cheeks. He listened as you talked about everything you liked about London, everything that disgusted you, and everything you hoped for in the future, simply taking in the opportunity to just be with you. 

After a few moments, you asked him about what he wanted in the future, and all Jonathan had to say was one word.

"You."

You looked up from your cup of tea. "Me?"

He took a breath. "Yes." Jonathan affectionately said your name, and reached for your hand. "I never grew up in a house with both parents, doting on me." He told you about how his life up until joining MI-6 was an abominable quest for order. How his time in the military and working in the hotel business was part of an aim to find a direction in his life, and how little happiness it truly brought him. How alone he felt whenever his life wasn't being threatened. 

Jonathan sighed, not used to telling so much about himself in a single conversation, laying his heart out on the table to be cut into and devoured. "I promised myself that I would find the one person that I could care deeply for, and love them. I promised myself that I would make friends, find a home…a place to belong. Maybe someday become a parent."

You looked upon him lovingly. "That's beautiful, Jonathan."

He raised your hand to his lips and kissed it. "I want all of those things, and I want them with you." Jonathan declared, quiet enough for the two of you to hear. "These past days with you have been…incredible. When I look at you, I see everything that I have wanted, the life that I want to be living five years from now, ten years from now." 

He continued, "You make me believe in a future that's worth building. The way you smile…, the way you look upon me and everyone with stars in your eyes…I want to be the one who keeps that smile on your face, the one who makes you laugh. I want to be the one who kisses you good night, and the first one you see in the morning. I want to be the one you come home to every evening, the shoulder you lean on." 

Jonathan stroked the back of your hand with his calloused thumb. "I know it's soon, but if there is anything that I've learned, it's that when you see something worth keeping in your life, you do everything you can not to let her go. You just do it." He looked into your eyes. "Marry me?"

James Conrad from Kong: Skull Island

It was the third time this week James had a nightmare. After thrashing and groaning, fighting an invisible beast, James found it in himself to call you - his neighbor whom he'd been dating for two years - on the telephone. His forehead and his chest were dripping with sweat, his expression one of agony, when you approached his bed. It was obvious that he had been in a lot of pain. 

James wasn't the type of person who wanted to expound upon the terrors he was feeling; he was a man of action who preferred expressing his emotions nonverbally. So, you respected that and simply talked about mundane things, things about civilian life that would temporarily distract James. As you both fell asleep, you made a mental note to remind James setting another appointment with his therapist, the one MONARCH had prescribed for him.

You woke up to an empty bed. It wasn't unusual for James to go out on an early morning walk to be alone with his thoughts. It was one of the things he'd learned from his therapist when he asked about how to be a better sweetheart to you while recovering from his trauma. You washed your face and brushed your teeth with a heavy heart, hoping it wouldn't be too long before you saw James again. 

While you styled your hair, you heard the door unlock. James walked inside, carrying a bag of breakfast pastries. "Good morning." He greeted you in a low, casual voice. 

"Good morning…" You would've asked if he slept well, but given the events of last night, that question made no sense. "I'm sorry I stayed over."

"No need to apologize." James set the pastries down and placed a kettle on the stove. While the water rose to a boil, James unwrapped the two chocolate croissants he bought, and glanced up to find you standing in the kitchen. You walked up to him slowly, and without missing a beat, James gently kissed you with an arm gently holding your waist. He murmured your name again, his breath warm against your lips. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." 

James gave you a chaste kiss on your forehead before going into his bedroom. "I brought breakfast for us both. Should I make us some eggs?"

"No need…" You watched James open one of his drawers. "Before I forget, do you want to make an appointment with your therapist?"

"Uh, I will." James returned to the kitchen with a small box in his right hand. "Thanks for reminding me."

"What is that?"

James took a deep breath. "Just something to thank you for last night,…and for everything you've done."

"James, you really didn't have to-"

"No. I've been wanting to do this for a year, it's time." 

Your breath caught in your throat as James opened the box to reveal a small, simple sapphire ring. He began, "I should've done this sooner, and I'm a fool for not doing so." James fell to one knee, and you gasped. "Darling,…Over the years I've known you, you have helped me…become a man again. You've remained by my side as I've made attempts to return to civilian life. You've comforted me during my worst hours, and you have given me something worth living for."

"James…"

"You're someone worth fighting for." He laughs a little. "I love you. And if you let me, I will spend the rest of my life making you feel loved and caring for you in the ways that you have cared for me.

Darling, will you marry me?"

Magnus Martinsson from Wallander

"Marry me." Magnus groaned with relief when you brought him a plate of eggs, some coffee, and an aspirin. He was laying on your couch, hungover after a night out with you and some of his mates from the police station.

You simply rolled your eyes and laughed a little. "Eat your eggs, you'll feel better with some food inside you."

Magnus kept his eyes on you while you both drank coffee, his headache slowly diminishing. "That a yes?"

"No, Magnus." You flatly said. "You had a lot to drink last night. Just…eat your eggs and finish your coffee. I'm not saying yes to a guy that passed out on my couch after throwing up into the bushes outside."

He grimaced. "I did that?…Sorry." Magnus looked down and shoveled a forkful of eggs into his mouth. "Whatever, it was just a question, not like I meant it or anything." He pretended to brush off the matter. "You doing anything else today?"

"Tidying the house. You?"

Magnus closed his eyes for a moment to taste the savory flavor of the eggs. "i have a few things to do at the station for Kurt. Won't take long."

You and Magnus finished breakfast in silence before Magnus thanked you for letting him crash on your couch. "I'll see you soon." He said, giving you a kiss on the cheek.

You almost found it funny, the way he groaned for you to marry him, and chuckled to yourself. For all of his sarcastic quips and his cold exterior, there were times Magnus was an unintentional sweetheart. You'd known him for about seven months, how endearing he was whenever he tried to show off at darts or pool. You thought about the time he brought you soup every night when you had a flu that lasted for a week. And during that one time he showed up late to one of your date nights because of a case, he spent the rest of the evening simply snuggling with you until you fell asleep in each others' arms. It was one of the first times you'd ever seen him smiling so blissfully like a newborn baby.

About a few hours later, you could hear it rain outside, a bolt of thunder rumbling across the sky. While caught up in some trashy television, you heard a knock on the door. 

There was Magnus, standing outside drenched from head to toe. 

"Magnus, what are you-"

"I meant it." He confessed while the raindrops rolled down the sides of his face. "Marry me." He repeated when you asked him what he was talking about. Magnus reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small gold ring with three tiny diamonds. "You're the most perfect person in this entire world. And it's not just because you make the best eggs." He said, making you laugh. "You're stunning, even when you've just woken up. You put up with a lot, and…I can't really say what it is you do to me, but I can't help it. I…I…"

"I love you too, you crazy detective!" You finished.

"So, is that a yes?" Magnus asked again, with a big grin on his face as he presented the ring to you. 

Robert Laing from High-Rise

"We need to talk." Robert broke the silence while the two of you shared a candlelit dinner in your flat. 

All traces of a smile disappeared from your face instantly. Usually nothing good ever followed those four words. 

You put your fork down. "What did you want to talk about?"

Robert looked you in the eye. "I moved to this high-rise to be alone, to be away from people. This…a relationship was the last thing that I wanted." He blinked, looking down at his plate for a moment. Then, he wiped his mouth with a napkin. 

You tensed in your seat, preparing for the worst. God, Robert. If he was trying to break up with you, then he just picked the worst time possible. 

The doctor stood up. "I thought I wasn't built for love…So I tried to be alone as much as I could, avoiding every chance to be attached to someone." He swallowed. "And then you came."

You let out a sigh, assuming that Robert was going to say something awful about your relationship. 

"It was like I couldn't even recognize myself anymore. What you did to me…" Robert called your name and walked over to you. "I cannot go a day without hearing your quippy words…, without seeing you when I come home,…without kissing you. It's more than anything I have felt in years." He confessed, his fingers tracing the back of your chair. "If you were to disappear from my life, it would feel like losing everything I've ever known. And…truthfully, the idea of that terrifies me. Maybe I could live without you,…but I don't know if I would be able to call it living.

"So what are you trying to say?" You murmured.

Robert sighed. "Forgive me, I'm not used to having these conversations."

"It's okay."

"You did it again." The doctor remarked. "You're making me fall in love with you, sweetheart." Robert went to the coat closet where he kept his blazer, and pulled a small box from one of the pockets. He returned to your side. "What I'm trying to say is,…that I'm in love with you. I'm in love not only with you, but with the way that you make me…feel things. The way that you remind me that there's a future ahead of us both. A future that can be much more than just dreary parties and squabbles between the upper floors and lower floors. You make me very happy, darling, and I think that you should know that." 

Robert took a deep breath and fell to one knee, next to your chair with the box opened to reveal a silver ring with a diamond heart. "Would you marry me, and make me an even happier man?"

Thomas Sharpe from Crimson Peak

You were sitting on the swing set in the garden of your family estate, enjoying the mid-morning sun and the gentle breeze. Idly moving your legs back and forth, you played with a small cluster of Baby's Breath in your lap. It was nice to be away from the bustling drama and the incessant gossip, and instead be surrounded by fresh air. 

"My lady." You were awoken from your reverie by a smooth, vaguely familiar baritone that belonged to none other than Thomas Sharpe. He was a guest who'd been staying at an inn near your family's home, having joined your family for supper at least ten times in the past two weeks. In your eyes, he seemed mysterious and yet full of stories to tell, always having an anecdote about a place he'd visited or a trick to show you and your siblings. There was something about him that made you drawn to him as soon as he walked into a room, you were unable to articulate what it was. 

"Good morning. What brings you here, Baronet?" 

The baronet gave you a smile, and leaned against a tree, watching you enjoy yourself on the swings. "I was speaking to your father and his, erm, associates about a business venture."

"About clay, right? Mining it?"

Thomas nodded. "Precisely, my lady. And you, have you been enjoying your morning?"

You blushed as he took a step closer. "Yes, Baronet."

"No need for such formal titles now, my lady. We're not at a ball, nor are we at supper. ''Thomas' will do." He gently said. "May I share your company for a while, my lady, if it would not be much of a bother for you?"

You allowed him, giving the Baby's Breath to him as a token of affection. No, not a token of affection. Simply a nice gesture that would hopefully give you a place in Thomas's good books. Maybe he might even ask you for a dance at the next ball.

"Will you be attending the ball this Saturday, Bar- I mean, Thomas?"

He nodded, taking a moment to smell the flowers. "You?"

"I will." 

"And have you chosen a gown, my lady?" Thomas decided to humor you a little. He smiled while you sheepishly described the dress that you had your eye on for that special occasion. "Well, I'm sure you will look divine wearing it, my lady. Do you often spend time here in the gardens, all by yourself."

"Yes. I enjoy the flowers, and the breeze. It's beautiful when the weather is pleasant."

"I can imagine, my lady. It's been a long time since I have relaxed in a garden." Thomas places the Baby's breath in his front pocket. "My lady, there is something I wish to know of you."

You stopped swinging, and asked him what it was.

"I would like to know if you would be interested in marrying me." Thomas knelt by your side, looking up at you with eyes that bore the same hue as a cloudless sky. "For some time, my lady, I have admired your numerous charms from afar. And with each passing day, my affections for you have grown stronger. I find myself thinking about you at the most unpropitious times of day." He sighs, "While I may not be a man of great fame or great brawn or of great wealth, I am a man of dignity." Thomas promised you, despite knowing it was a blatant lie. "I will make sure that you lack nothing as my wife. And to treat you with nothing but the compassion and the love that you deserve. All I ask in return, is that you try to find it in your heart to give me even an iota of your affections.

Would you be willing to do that, my lady?"

Jaguar Villain!Tom Hiddleston

Ever since you moved into the flat Mr. Hiddleston bought for you, the most powerful man in London always had a designated town car sent to pick you up from work or school every day. His favorite chauffeur would show up at the same time every weekday, give you a friendly greeting, and drop you off at your flat. And once you got there, you'd be greeted by a doorman that Mr. Hiddleston personally hired to make sure that you reached safely.

Today, however, the chauffeur did not drop you off at your flat. At least, not right away. "Monsieur Hiddleston had something different in mind for today," he said with a small grin, like he knew something was going on. The chauffeur dropped you off at the nail salon for a manicure paid for by your powerful beau. 

After being pampered by the nail technician for about forty-five minutes, you returned to the town car to find a bag in the backseat with the word 'Harrods' on it. "You went shopping?" You asked the chauffeur while he drove you to your flat.

"Non, it was all Monsieur Hiddleston. He was keeping this dress on hold, and asked me to pick it up for you. He would like you to wear it tonight."

You thanked the chauffeur with a smile. Inside the bag was a beautiful Carolina Herrera gown in your favorite color. And right on cue, your phone buzzed with a text from your beau, asking if you liked his gift. As always, you texted back saying that it was perfect. 

The chauffeur dropped you off at your flat, and asked you to be ready by seven-thirty…but not before taking a good look at your manicured nails and saying an early 'congratulations'.

"Gordon owes me a favor," Mr. Hiddleston bragged a little when he arrived in front of your building at seven-thirty sharp. He opened the door of his favorite black Jaguar, and helped you inside the front passenger seat. "You look stunning tonight, darling."

"You look amazing too," you couldn't help but say. It was the truth after all. "When you said Gordon, did you mean…?"

"We're going to the River Restaurant in the Savoy Hotel, darling." He kept one hand on the steering wheel, placing the other one on your knee. "Hungry?"

"Nervous," you sheepishly said.

"I'm here, nothing can harm you." He turned his eyes to the road. "Your fears are far behind you."

The moment you arrived, the host of the restaurant immediately led you both to one of the outdoor terraces, where there was a table for two set up. Mr. Hiddleston pulled the chair for you before sitting down, and a waiter poured both of you some Dom Pérignon. 

"This is beautiful." You gushed, watching the most powerful man in London raise an invisible toast. You clinked your glass against his. 

 He replied with a dramatic flair.  "Nothing compared to you."

"So…what did you to get this favor?" You leaned in and asked him while the waiter placed a charcuterie board for the two of you to share. "This is a seafood place, charcuterie isn't on the menu."

A twinkle in his cerulean eyes, Mr, Hiddleston fed you a piece of cheese. "That's confidential, darling. Just enjoy the night."

"I will."

The two of you made small talk about your day, and about Mr. Hiddleston's upcoming business trip to Paris. You would be going with him of course, Mr. Hiddleston would make sure of that. The waiter refilled your champagne, and your beau discretely gave him a twenty-pound note, whispering that it was time for the main course.

The waiter took about fifteen minutes to bring your elegantly-arranged entrees out onto the terrace. And as he came out, you could hear an orchestra from inside the hotel begin to play "All I Ask of You" from Phantom of the Opera.

"Enjoying yourself?" Mr. Hiddleston leaned forward with a smirk as he noticed you listening to the music.

You admitted this was one of the songs you enjoyed, and said it reminded you of the first time you'd ever heard of the musical. How much you wanted to be Christine in that moment, serenaded with the promise of a life with no more darkness.

"Well there's one more thing I have for you tonight, darling." With a smirk, Mr. Hiddleston reached into the pocket of his blazer, retrieving a small box labeled 'Harry Winston'. He slowly got out of his chair and made his way towards you. 

You gasped, covering your mouth almost immediately. You swore you could feel your heart stop just for a moment when his eyes met yours. It all made sense now: the manicure, the accidental 'congratulations', the gown,…

 "Oh my god…"

Mr. Hiddleston fell to one knee and opened the box, which contained a 1-carat diamond ring with a platinum band. "Love me. It's all I ask of you."

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