#magpie playlist tag

[dancingbirdie]

This feels more like a character study of Astarion than anything else, but it's part of the series I'm working on called "The Planets Bend Between Us."

Part 1 here, Part 2 here, Part 3 here, Part 4 here.

Everything on Ao3 here.

My Astarion Spotify playlist here.

I hope you enjoy! Comments always appreciated and hoarded like shiny magpie trinkets.

Only You. Only Me.

Rating: Mature (for descriptions of sex/fantasizing)

Pairing: Astarion x f!Tav

Word Count: 2.4K

Warnings/Tags: Astarion's trauma responses, mental health, coping mechanisms, self-degradation, discussion of sex/physical intimacy, angst, fluff.

Summary: Halsin propositions Tav, prompting another important conversation between her and Astarion. Astarion works through more of his feelings about Tav, physical intimacy, and recovering from the torture he previously endured.

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

Astarion had always enjoyed reading. It was one of the very few discreet pleasures in which he could partake when skulking about Baldur’s Gate at night. He would read by the light of the lamp posts dotting the main thoroughfares, slouching against them and perusing texts at his leisure. He could even justify the habit to Cazador and his siblings, as on numerous occasions, it captured the attention of unsuspecting passersby who considered his behavior intriguing enough to strike up a conversation. It was a more passive means of gathering victims, true. It felt akin to fishing for prey as opposed to stalking them. But, still, it got the job done, especially on nights when his skin and bones still ached from his master’s beatings. 

Suffice to say, when he pilfered an armful of books from the druid’s grove several weeks ago, he was excited to finally indulge in the familiar activity once more. He had just selected a worn edition of Traveller’s Guide to the Sword Coast Vol. IV: The Risen Road and begun reading the author’s note when Tav barged into their shared tent with an audible huff. 

“Honestly, I was only making conversation…” she grumbled under her breath as she began aggressively rummaging through her pack to retrieve her night clothes. 

Astarion peered at her over the top of the tome, quirking a brow. 

“Is there something you want to talk about, my dear?” he casually intoned. 

Tav scoffed before turning to look at him over her shoulder. “You wouldn’t believe the conversation I’ve just had with Halsin,” she grimaced. 

Ah, so it finally happened, he thought to himself. He was grinning wickedly as he closed the book and laid it next to his bedding. 

“What’s that smile for?” Tav accused. 

A true, hearty guffaw burst from his mouth at that. Tav would have found it delightfully endearing if she weren’t so flustered. 

“I was wondering when you were going to ask me about this,” he replied, still chuckling. 

“What? How could you tell? Did he say something to you already?”

“I guessed! The man can’t stay quiet about ‘enjoying the freedom of Nature’s gifts’,” Astarion said, adopting a low, throaty tone to mimic the First Druid’s voice before cackling again. “Why, I bet he’d outlaw clothing if he could.”

Tav clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “It’s ridiculous. I was trying to make conversation with him a few days ago, because he seemed lonely and out of place. I mean, at least we all sort of know one another now. Tadpole business and all that. I thought he could do with a friend. So I merely asked if he had someone special waiting for him back home. And, apparently, that’s a coded question for ‘I’m interested in you?’ Honestly,” she scoffed. 

Astarion continued to watch her with obvious amusement. 

Tav turned back around and began undressing. He swallowed thickly as he watched her shrug out of her armor and begin untying the laces of her chest binding. The fabric fell to the ground with a muffled thump. He caught a mouth-watering view of the side of her breast as she bent over to fetch her nightshirt. 

His nightshirt, to be more precise. She’d taken to wearing his clothes (with permission, of course) soon after they had begun sleeping together. Said article of clothing was long enough to serve as a nightgown on her.

His eyes followed the curve of her waist and hips as she slid her breeches over the peaks and dips of her legs. His chest began to feel a little tighter, his breathing a touch ragged. He knew he should turn away. Be a gentleman. Give her some privacy, even if she wasn’t asking for it. 

Tav had grown increasingly casual about her nakedness inside the confines of their tent. She wasn’t doing it as a means to tempt him, he realized. Experienced as he was given his former… raison d'être… he would have picked up on the first whiff of it had her intent been to cajole him into sleeping with her again. 

No, her behavior stemmed entirely from a place of trust. She let her guards down - physically and emotionally - with only him. It was a pure thing. Borne out of a sense of security that Astarion hadn’t thought anyone would ever feel with him. The thought alone was enough to send a surge of blood toward his groin. The tent suddenly felt a lot warmer than it had before she’d entered. 

They hadn’t slept together since the night of tiefling’s celebration. It wasn’t because he didn’t desire her. He did, much more than his conscious self possibly cared to admit. He was especially reminded of that truth during moments like these, when she undressed in front of him as though she had done it a thousand times before. Like she’d do it a thousand times again. The way she shared her body with him, even non-sexually, was enough to kindle fire in his blood.

But he still felt tainted, no matter how many times he scraped and scrubbed his skin clean. The sense of it was still there, like an invisible grime marking him as unclean. Unworthy. And the act itself was still tainted in his mind. It wasn’t an easy place to return from – that cognitive hellscape where sex was a weapon, a vulnerability to exploit, a means to another’s end. 

He would frequently picture himself filling her to the hilt, wrapping her legs around his waist, thrusting into her with all the passion he could muster. And at first, it would bring him nothing but unbridled feelings of pleasure. Of yearning. But then the vision would be overshadowed by other thoughts, memories of previous trysts. Reminding him of who he was. What he was. What he’d done to others. What had been done to him. And by the time he was able to beat back those intrusive thoughts, the urge to ravish her would be lost. And he would be left loathing himself for even thinking of touching her, or having her touch him, in that way. 

You don’t deserve it. You don’t deserve her. That’s not meant for you. The thoughts would taunt him like crows circling a dying animal.  

He knew she wanted to be with him again. Of course, she never asked for it, the polite and empathetic sweetling that she was to him. They had discussed the subject thoroughly, and she had resolutely accepted his boundaries. He knew she’d never overstep them unless he permitted it. But he could feel her wanting in the desperate way she kissed him. In the way she touched him, so reverently, when they curled up in their bedding to rest. It caused his heart to flutter and fracture simultaneously. Because no matter how desperately he wanted to give her what her unspoken actions craved, he couldn’t figure out how to bypass those horrible memories and thoughts that plagued him. 

Things had gotten better, he had to admit. His aversion to touch and intimacy was slowly but surely fading. There were many nights he and Tav lay together in each other’s arms, lips moving together in perfect, glorious synchrony. They explored each other’s bodies – fingertips ghosting along skin, leaving heated trails of gooseflesh in their wake. 

“Tell me to stop,” she would whisper against his neck, her hands roving the planes of his body, as she peppered kisses along his jawline and the column of his neck. “Tell me to stop, and I’ll stop.”

“Keep going,” he would murmur in return, touching her just as desperately. “Please. Keep going.”

It would continue like that for some time, until it became too much. Until her touch stopped feeling like an analgesic to his mind and more like an agonist. He would tense, and she would feel it. He would quietly whisper “stop,” and she would halt immediately. He would clutch her in his arms, and they would lie still as he recovered. 

He wished he could give her more. Give her everything. She said she never minded. That she wanted them to take this slowly. And he believed her. But still. He knew he was a different sort of lover than she likely imagined her first to be. 

Which was why he had resolved to accept the possibility that she might want physical pleasure with someone else. Someone like Halsin, who could give her that attention immediately. Without the additional baggage and self-loathing that he came with. 

Under Cazador’s enslavement, the question of whether he preferred monogamy versus polyamory was just a cruel joke with an even crueler punchline. And before that, well, he couldn’t remember how he’d preferred his relationships. It was disorienting, to be so unsure of himself. Not knowing whether his decisions and preferences now were a reversal of his former personality or an exact alignment. Maybe some craved that sort of clean slate, but to Astarion it was terrifying. And enraging. 

But matters of self-identity aside, he had pondered long and hard about how he would respond were Tav to express interest in someone else. He had seen the way the gazes of some in their party lingered on her, knew they were curious about his little hellcat. Knew it was only a matter of time before someone became brave enough to proposition her. And he’d resolved to tell her, should she ask, that he would be all right with it. If she wanted to be intimate with another. He wouldn’t mind. 

Because it wasn’t her body he wanted, he had realized. While, yes of course, she was exquisite and beautiful and incomparable. She had a feral sort of beauty that drove his senses stark-raving mad sometimes. But what he really wanted – what he craved from her – lay so much deeper within. He wanted her heart. Her trust. Her pride. Her love. Even if he wasn’t entirely sure what that meant. He wanted to know it, wanted to learn. 

“It’s all right, you know,” he murmured finally. 

Tav turned to face him, tying her hair up in a tight bun for sleep. His nightshirt inched up her long, taut legs as she stretched. 

“What’s all right?” she frowned. 

“If you do wish to be intimate with him. I wouldn’t mind. I’m happy for you to have as much… Halsin as you wish.”

Tav just stared at him, her expression unreadable. 

“I just have one question, though,” he continued, pressing on while he still had the courage and vulnerability to ask. “It wouldn’t be because… you know… we haven’t… in a while?” 

The answer mattered so much to him. It was all he could think about for some time now. It made the defensive, self-preserving part of his mind absolutely seethe with rage, but try as he might, he couldn’t shake its importance.

Objectively speaking, he knew it was reasonable if she did respond with yes, it’s because we haven’t in a while, and I really do want to have sex. She was free to feel how she wished. He wouldn’t dare try to force her to stay with only him. He wouldn’t take her agency away from her like that. 

But still, he couldn’t deny that it would gut a part of him, if that would be her reason for taking the First Druid up on his offer. Astarion knew his penchant for misery and self-loathing would seize that answer like a prized jewel. Taunt him with the reality that he wasn’t good enough, wasn’t worth the effort, wasn’t deserving of anyone’s sole focus. 

“Astarion. Look at me,” Tav intoned, interrupting his frantic spiral. 

He hadn’t realized he’d dropped eye contact, his unfocused gaze instead directed somewhere to the side of her head. 

She knelt down before him, her knees pressing into his thigh. Gently, she took his hands in hers. 

“I don’t want to sleep with Halsin. I don’t want to sleep with anyone else,” she said resolutely. He could hear the conviction in her tone.

He stared at her, stunned into silence. In all his pondering and fretting over this, he hadn’t prepared for that answer. Once again, her response left him feeling flat-footed. 

“Listen,” she pressed forward, scooting closer into his side. “I’m fairly new at this, at all of this really. There’s a lot I don’t know about relationships and… physical intimacy… But I do know myself. And I know that sex doesn’t mean nearly as much to me as our emotional connection does. 

“Really?” Astarion whispered, his eyes darting rapidly across her face, desperate to suss out the truth.

Tav nodded seriously, squeezing his hands in hers. “While, yes, I want you in that way… it’s you I want, Astarion. Not the act itself. Just you.”

He wanted to break down in sobs at her words, at just how much they meant to him. That she just wanted him. Astarion. No gimmicks, no quid pro quo, no expectations. She had said it to him before in a different manner of phrasing, but he wasn’t sure if he would ever tire of hearing it. 

She couldn’t possibly understand how her simple truth, her sincere love for him, was upending his entire concept of life and relationships, like a meteor obliterating the ground beneath it. And out of that obliteration, something new and wonderful and terrifying was arising within him. 

Marvelous as it may be, it was still too much to process. The self-preserving part of him reared up in desperation, anxious to shield him from the unknown. He slipped into his costume of confidence and ease once more, although a distant part of him noted how this façade was beginning to chafe. 

“I know,” he chuckled with an offhanded shrug. He could sense the false bravado in his voice and wondered if Tav could discern it as well. 

“I was being foolish,” he continued. “But thank you for saying it.” 

Tav gave him a warm smile and squeezed his hands one last time before releasing them. 

“Of course, my star” she replied lovingly. “Let’s get some rest then, yes?”

“Yes, my darling. Let’s,” he returned.

He gathered her up in his arms as they burrowed down into their bedding. Tav sprawled on top of him, her head on his chest, a leg hitched between his, an arm banded across his waist. 

Within a matter of moments, she was fast asleep. Careful not to shift too much and wake her, Astarion picked up the previously discarded tome and resumed his reading. 

Astarion had always enjoyed reading. Although, he had to admit, the surroundings and company had dramatically improved since the last time he cracked open a book.

[mrs-lockley]

Once Upon a December

Pairing: Hades & Persephone AU, Miguel O’Hara x WOC!Reader (no use of Y/N) Word Count: 4.5k  Warnings: Arranged marriage, implied age gap (reader is a couple centuries old and of age), mention of death and a child death/funeral (no actual death graphically described or specified), dark imagery of the Underworld, use and mentions of Greek mythology, conflicted feelings, magical realism, no time period specified Summary: In the early decades of your marriage to the god of the Underworld, you resented him for abruptly ending your maidenhood. As the decades go by, you learn that there is more to the man who rules the dead than you realize. One day, your husband takes you to Tartarus, the depths of the Underworld, to suggest a proposition.

Author's Note: Hi my little doves, I'm semi-back with a new fic! To be honest, this fic has been in my draft for 3 years (date of origin: 12/30/2020) with First Order!Poe originally, but I thought Miguel suited Hades much better. I have a few fics in my wips and it's honestly like Russian Roulette because i did not expect to complete a Miguel fic before a Jake fic, lol. Special thanks to @soft-girl-musings and @v4mpires0ap for supporting me in completing this and giving me feedback! This fic was also deeply inspired by this comic illustrated by @katadesmoi, another take on the Hades & Persephone myth. If you like to listen to music while reading, I highly suggest listening to this Once Upon a December playlist on Youtube. Happy reading! Likes are appreciated, but reblogs make my heart go warm 🤍

Tagging: @soft-girl-musings @v4mpires0ap @venting402 @musing-magpie @writefightandflightclub but only if you would like to read it!

You have seen this place before. The place where the stars fall to the earth, where the roots meet the soil, where the ocean meets the shore. 

Where the dead meet the living, where the living meet the dead. 

Your reflection mirrors you in the sky as you look up to the clouds with the whispering images of Earth shining down on you. On Earth, the clouds weep at the loss of the sun, but other clouds have gone soft with crystals catching the last kiss of sunlight before nightfall. Other places show the yellow sun shining over glistening forests and beaches, and some a starlight projection over snowfall. 

A snowflake flutters from the sky, and you stretch your palm to watch it melt on your skin. 

“It’s beautiful,” you whisper.

Underneath the moonlight, the trace of a smile tugs at your husband’s lips. He moves to stand beside you and the two of you gaze at the glassy sky above. 

Miguel keeps his distance, a shadow’s length between the two of you. 

For a brief moment, a sparkling ember is reflected in those brown eyes, only to quickly disappear within a blink and a slight shake of his head. 

Your husband was not malevolent, nor was he benevolent. Miguel was a man whose moral conviction strongly aligned with the laws of nature, life, and death. He takes no sides, but only stands in the middle, seeing nothing but carnage to his right and hearing the wailing of tears to his left. 

You met him once before your arranged marriage. You and your mother were at a banquet one evening, your first banquet after the war when he caught your eye. Standing at the side of the hall with a glass of red wine in his hands, everyone fell into a hushed whisper. It was rare to see the god of the dead at a gathering like this, especially since the collapse of a universe. 

As your mother mingled with one of her sisters, your curious eyes drifted into his orbit. It was as if the darkness of the Underworld followed him into the light, but you were entranced by the shadows that caressed the contours of his face. Centuries of carnage and war clouded his eyes a deep brown, but in the dim candlelight, you could see that in spite of witnessing the heaviness of humanity, there were traces of his youth in smile.

A pair of older women passed you, whispering quietly about him. 

The wine looks too much like blood in his hands, one of them remarked with disdain. 

But not to you.

It was difficult to not notice him with his imposing height and stature. Even as he stood to the side and in the shadows of the banquet hall, the wine in his hands reminded you of the deep crimson of a pomegranate, waiting for you to cut it open so you could taste its juices. 

Smoothing your hair, you quickly averted your gaze and distracted yourself by listening to your mother discuss the upcoming spring harvest. You smiled at your aunt as she pitched in, acknowledging how the winter rain would help water the crops and contribute to a bountiful spring for the mortal universe. 

But as the conversation continued, your skin prickled. It was as if something was burning you, a small flame lit on your skin and was rapidly growing into a thunderous wildfire that consumed everything in its wake.

You tried to ignore the sensation as you listened to your mother and your aunt's plan for the harvest, but the longer you ignored it, the hotter the fire burned your skin. It was as if you were thrown into a wildfire with the smoke filling your lungs, traveling to your throat, and threatening to spill from your mouth. Their voices began to fade into the distance as the roar of your heartbeat thundered in your ears. 

Unable to ignore the feeling any longer, you began to look around to find the cause of your discomfort. 

Your innocent eyes met his, and you could barely breathe. 

His brown eyes darkened into what you would believe to be the darkness of the Underworld. It was as if he was pulling you into its depths– not seducing you into temptation– but revealing all of your secrets into the light. 

All you could feel was the blood rushing to your face as he looked at you. You could not read the expression on his face as his eyes drank you in, but you could not tear yourself away. You were caught in his snare. 

But as your eyes met, you saw something else. As he was reading you, you were reading him, trying to translate the pages of a book that was presented to you in an ancient language you discovered for the first time. The introduction was breathtaking, but the first chapter was consuming and inviting. 

His eyes only left yours when you saw your father call and approach him. As he looked away, you too turned your eyes back to your mother and her sister. You could not hear what your father and Miguel were discussing behind you and your mother’s back, but you would soon learn that the god of the dead was blessed by your father for your hand in marriage. 

There was no warning. One day, you were laying under the sun in the springfields with flowers in your hair, singing a love song from days of old. The next day, you were escorted to the world below you, climbing your way through its webs to become queen of the dark kingdom to your betrothed. 

“I know you have assumptions about me.” Miguel’s voice is quiet as he speaks, barely above a whisper in the snowfall. “I cannot change them or how you feel, nor do I intend on changing your mind, but …” 

His words trail off, his voice fading into the distant sound of the winter winds howling in the cavern. 

Looking back up at the dome above you, you catch his reflection. A shadow crosses his stern face, its fingers stretching across his tan skin. In the dim moonlight, you could almost catch streaks of silver in his dark waves. The centuries have taken a toll on him, and while you were a couple hundred years younger than him, you, too, felt the heaviness in your chest. 

“I’ve heard stories,” you tell him quietly.

His eyes remain on the sky above with an unreadable expression. The only sound between you is the silent snowfall and the white clouds that puff around your lips with each breath you take. 

“Do you believe them?”

His question catches you by surprise. Your eyes widen, your breath stuttering in your throat as you think about how to answer him. 

Your husband turns to you then, a stormy look on his face as he looks at you. 

You remembered the stories and cautionary tales your mother told you about him. While you were tending the rose garden one day, your mother shared with you the stories she heard from the other gods after attending a banquet. 

He was the reason one of the universes collapsed. He meddled into the mortal realm when he should have stayed where he belonged- in the depths and shadows of the dead. 

He chased a young boy to the edges of the Underworld, all because the poor boy wanted to save his father from dying. Imagine how cruel a man could be to stop a boy from saving his father.

That man shows no mercy or remorse for the dearly departed. He only sits on his throne as he listens to their tears of sadness and cries of anguish. He would not even show mercy to a mortal man who ventured into the Underworld to bring his lover back to life– instead, granting an impossible task that doomed the poor man from the start.

Decades ago, you might have believed the whispers of the gods, goddesses, and other celestial beings as they spoke about him behind his back. For the first few decades of your marriage, you resented him for taking you away from your mother and the mortal realm. He stole you away from the sun with just a simple blessing from your father, and he had not even spoken a single word to you before making you his bride and queen. 

What he did not know was that once, you ran away. 

As Miguel was in the heart of the Underworld, you briefly escaped its darkness. It was winter in the land of the living, and somehow, you managed to sneak past the hounds, the souls, and the suspecting ferryman who stood at the crossroads between realms. 

(Whether he knew your plan of escape or not, he did not say. The ferryman merely watched with unknowing eyes as you slipped past him.)

Your lungs ached as you climbed your way out from underground. Soil crusted beneath your fingernails, your skin covered in earth when the light of the winter sun nearly burned your eyes upon your ascent. 

You did not know how long you wandered, but you walked until the soles of your feet burned crimson. The skies darkened into icy shades of gray and white before weeping for the loss of the sun and your fingertips mirrored the color of your feet. 

Day turned to night, and before long, you stumbled upon an evening wake. 

Outside the church, the deceased’s family mingled in the winter night. Their eyes burned with tears as their voices trembled with each word spoken. Loved ones gathered around them to offer their condolences while the children sat outside on the steps, playing with makeshift paper dolls and animals to pass the time. 

You wondered if anyone saw you, but the thought of someone recognizing you never crossed your mind. While your mother advised you to stay out of mortal affairs, there was something pulling you towards the coffin, urging you to stay. 

It did not take long for your heart to break. 

Tears pricked your eyes as you gazed at the little girl laying inside the wooden box. You remembered her youthful spirit and jovial smile as she would sit under your favorite tree, weaving flower crowns and sharing fruit with some of the wildlife that dwelled in the forest. The nymphs and dryads spoke fondly of her whenever she visited the lake, and a few times, you remembered picking up the blooming flowers that she left behind as an offering.

Overcome with grief, you placed your hand over hers, whispering words of assurance and comfort to her. Her skin was cold to touch, but you did not shy away as you left behind a small white lily in her embrace.

At the sound of approaching footsteps, you immediately stepped aside. You assumed the man who approached the coffin to be her father as you watched him place the coins over her eyes, whispering to his daughter in their native tongue with tears streaming down his cheeks. 

Your heart ached for the girl and her family as you watched them gather around her coffin. No one noticed you while you walked away, following the fallen petals of dried flowers to guide you back to the world below. 

It was as if nothing changed since your brief departure. The ferryman merely watched you with apathetic eyes when you returned, his boat filled with souls as he carried them over the Styx. 

You did not meet with Miguel that day, but as you wandered the Isles of the Blessed, you heard a familiar voice ring in the air. 

Not wanting to be seen or scolded for wandering off, you quickly hid behind a tree. Peeking from behind the trunk, your heart warmed to see that same little girl playing in the field with a man holding her hand. 

Miguel. 

You watched as he knelt down to her height, a gentle look on his face as he held her hands. You could not hear what they were saying, but from the smile on her face, you knew that he was nothing but kind and gentle with her as she adjusted to her new life in Elysium. 

“What is your name, little one?”

“Gabriella.”

“Gabriella,” your husband repeated as he brushed her hair out of her eyes. His fingers paused over the lily tucked behind her ear. “This is a beautiful flower you have in your hair.”

She smiled as she removed it from her ear and offered it to him. 

“I had it with me when the ferryman took me here. I don’t remember how I got it, but he told me to keep it.”

You held your breath as Miguel held the lily in his hand. It was not unusual for flowers to spring wherever you went, and you wondered if he knew that you snuck into the mortal realm under his watch. 

To your surprise, he smiled at her as he tucked the lily back in her hair. 

“He was right. You should keep it.”

You have not seen Gabriella since that day, but you never forgot her. Whenever you walked near the Isles of the Blessed, you could hear her laugh in the wind with the river twinkling in the shape of her smile. 

His question hangs frozen mid-air as the snow crystallizes around you. 

Did you believe the horrid tales, after what you have seen?

His eyes search yours as the two of you stand under the shadow of the earth, its roots tangling around you. 

Of all the myths and legends you heard about Miguel, it would be easy to sway you into believing he was an apathetic man who ruled the land of the dead. He stole you away from spring, but in the decades that followed since your marriage, you realized that not once did he ever try to hold you back. There were countless times you snuck away into the mortal realm, and every time he could have held you back or ordered the hounds to follow you. Yet, he never did.

Perhaps you have judged him too harshly before learning about the man beneath the mask. While a part of you still resented him for the marriage, you could not bring yourself to truly hate him. 

“I would have,” you answer him quietly, “once upon a December.” 

The corners of his eyes crinkle slightly, amusement briefly flickering across his eyes as the ghost of a smile tickles his lips. 

In the mirror above, snow continues to fall like kisses from the earth. Its kisses leave droplets on your skin, but as you turn to your husband, you could count the snowflakes like stars in the night sky as they melt into his dark hair and brown skin. 

It was one of those rare moments where there was nothing and no one else in the world but the two of you. While Miguel was known to mortals under a different name and had a duty to follow in his realm, he gave you freedom to roam his world as you pleased without fear. You were his queen, and he treated you as such in his own quiet way. 

While he kept you at arm’s length, you were no fool.

“Why did you bring me here?”

The cavern almost seemed to engulf him as the moonlight shined upon him. Whispers of snow glistened in his hair, and the perpetual scowl on his lips appeared to soften the longer he gazed at the sky. 

He pauses, calculating his words. 

“Long before the mortals named me, I stumbled upon this place by chance. It is safe to presume that the deepest depths of the Underworld to be a frightening place of terror and grief, but it is more than what the legends say.”

Miguel takes a step forward until he is directly underneath the center of the mirror. Behind him, the outlines of a tree stretched its branches around him with its root tangling your shadow with his. 

The wind continues to howl like a wounded wolf in the dead of night. While the mortals would call this place Tartarus, it was not what you imagined. 

A deep ache settles in your chest, its roots ensnaring the heart in your ribs as the winter breeze fills your lungs with sharp knives of ice. 

“Only once in a blue moon could I walk into the world above, but here … it is the only way I could see the mortal realm without leaving mine behind.”

His eyes seem to mist in the moonlight, and your heart softens. The fortress of the castle he built around him begins to crumble, and for the first time, you see the lone king that resides within the darkness of its walls. 

The longing of the sun, the yearning for something warm, for someone to hold. 

As you look up at the mirror, you remember a time when you wandered the meadow in your youth and stumbled upon a stream where the carrion birds often flocked to. The nymphs, dryads, and your overbearing mother advised you to never venture near the river, but your youthful curiosity overcame you against their best wishes. 

The birds followed your movements as you stepped towards the river. Dark clouds gathered in the sky above with thunder rumbling in the distance, but you remained steadfast. White peace lilies and roses bloomed underneath your feet as you fell to your knees to peer into the murky waters beneath. 

Darkness swirled around your reflection as you gazed at the water below. The longer you looked, the more confused you were as you tried to decipher what lurked underneath the surface. What could cause the dryads and nymphs to urge you to stay away from this place? What worried your mother that you found a secret beneath?

You never told them about the river, nor did you ever return since that day, but as you look up at the familiar mirror above you, you wonder if the forbidden river drifted into the Styx. Perhaps the carrion birds were the ones who guarded the river in the mortal realm.

Perhaps as you wondered and peered into the dark waters, another face watched you from below.

His voice pulls you out of your thoughts, urging you to look at him.

“I know a part of you must resent me for taking you away from your mother — and I do not blame you for it — but this…” He gestures to the mirror above, a soft expression relaxing the curves  of his face, “is the only way we could see into the mortal universe. If I could bring a piece of the mortal world to you, it is the least I can do.”

Snow continues to fall with the winter winds howling around the two of you, causing a small flurry of snow to surround your two bodies. Frost begins to crystallize at your feet, indicating the official arrival of winter in the world above.

Your husband illuminates in the moonlight, a serene glow casted across his frame as he keeps his gaze on the sky. The corners of his lips curve into a lazy smile, and you could not help but think back to all the legends and myths you were taught about him, and the river that your mother warned you to stay away from. 

If this was the face that watched you from below, how could you despise him for bringing a piece of your world back to you, especially when he was not welcome in the light? 

“It is the winter solstice in the mortal world,” you tell him softly. The sky darkens above you, but you do not feel the cold as much anymore, not with the snowdrops beginning to surface from the frost. “The shortest day and the longest night of the year.”

You wonder what flowers would bloom in the spheres of the universe, what sky and stars the mortals see as they bask in the moonlight. While your marriage to the god of the Underworld dictated the seasons above, you lived long enough to know that the worlds above adjusted to your absence or presence in their own ways. 

The first winter you spent in the Underworld, you were inconsolable. While Miguel tried to comfort you, you were distraught, crying tears of anguish into your pillow as the darkness surrounded you. For the first time, no flowers bloomed where you stepped or where you lay.  Instead, only roseless thorns and weeds gathered where you walked, and in the world above, it was the worst harvest the mortals have seen in decades. 

While your parents argued with your husband about the conditions and length of your stay, you blocked out their voices. The only sounds you heard were your cracks splintering through your heart as you mourned the warmth of the sun and the endless blue sky. As much as Miguel tried to coax you out of your chambers and into the dark gardens of his kingdom, you planted your roots into the ground, refusing to be anywhere near him. 

Only for the winter, your father proposed. Your mother wept by his side, but your husband nodded in agreement, sealing your fate as swiftly as the seasons changed. 

It took some time, but throughout the first few years of your marriage, you began to be civil with Miguel. Much like him, you kept him at arm’s length, watching him and trying to understand what kind of king he was to his subjects in the world below. While you heard the whispering lore and legends of him in your ears, you soon learned that he was not everything that the people believed him to be.

A cloud storms in his brown irises as he looks over at you, his brow slightly furrowed. “If I may ask, are you happy here?”

A bitter laugh threatens to spill from your lips, but you quickly bite your tongue.

It has been decades since you were taken to rule the world below. While you may not have lived long enough to control your godly emotions, you still felt an aching pain and loss as you grieved leaving your home. 

“I did not have a choice in becoming your bride,” you answer, your voice laden with sadness and despair. “What say do I have as your wife?”

You were a younger goddess who lived only a couple centuries, but you had yet to learn the complexities of the universe. You still needed to experience the worlds around you, both above and below, but your maidenhood was cut short by the man your father arranged to be your husband. 

Even with the decades behind you, time had yet to fully heal the part of your heart that grieved for your maidenhood. You were conflicted in your grief and loss when Miguel had been cordial and respectful, in his own sentimental way. A part of you may resent him, but you still did not completely understand the feelings you held towards him. 

His brown eyes soften at your words, his lips slightly parted as white cotton clouds flutter in the air from his breath. 

“You are not a prisoner here,” he assures you gently, approaching you as if you were a skittish deer in the woods. “I am truly sorry for the pain I brought upon you.”

You look up at him slowly, seeing nothing but remorse in his gaze. You wonder if he would ask for your forgiveness, but it was too late for that. It has been half a century since your marriage, and the world already recorded the event in the stars and the sky. 

Miguel was a man of many things, but you know in his eyes, he is lawful. With the living and the dead, he merely rules over the departed to balance the universes. He only follows the rules of nature, but in godly matters, he follows the customs and traditions. A marriage only needs a father’s blessing for his daughter to be wedded without the husband needing to court or ask the bride. He broke no laws, but he did not fully understand the depths of your grief.

His voice is gentle as the winds quiet around him.

“I know it will take time for you to fully accept me as your husband, but I am a patient man. All I ask and plead is for you to give me a chance.”

The winter winds pull the air out of your lungs as Miguel turns with his hand outstretched towards you.

As you grieved the sudden end of your maidenhood, you reflect on everything you have seen. The gods and goddesses may indulge in heresy and scandals whenever they pleased, but from what you learned from their whispers, some of their stories did not reflect what you have seen. 

The god of the dead was not cruel, nor was he kind. He often deals in absolutes and ultimatums, with the universes remaining in balance as he ruled over his domain. 

Even so, you remember Gabriella’s smile as he held her hand in Elysium. A child taken too soon, but found comfort in the man who guided her to the Isles of the Blessed. 

Perhaps he was kinder than you believed.

Snow gathers in his palm as he holds his hand towards you. It would be easier for you to turn away and loathe him for the rest of your days, but something stirs in your heart. 

Darkness may have taken its hold over the mortal realm, but it has not fully consumed yours. 

Your fate is already written in the stars, your marriage bound in a godly affair. While you are still a younger goddess in a single web of the universe, perhaps it would do you no harm to trim the thorns that protected you and allow a rose to bloom. 

Slowly, you take his hand, his skin oddly warm against yours.

Your husband smiles gently at you and raises your hand to his lips. 

“I promise to love and care for you,” he whispers, “as long as you are by my side.”

Snowdrops and hydrangeas begin to bloom from the frost that dusted the ground beneath you, tangling with the roots of the tree as you walk beside him, allowing him to guide you away from the moonlight and towards the river from where you came. 

A comfortable silence falls upon you as Miguel rows the boat along the Styx, the water calm and quiet on the journey away from the darkness. The winter winds begin to fade into a distant echo, and as much as you wish to turn back to gaze at the world above one more time, you keep your eyes forward.

The winter solstice may have begun in the mortal realm, but the spring solstice has begun to blossom in the world below. 

And in the depths of the Underworld, the tree that holds the mirror above sprouts a single crimson fruit, a small pomegranate in the start of spring.

[courfee]

put your ‘on repeat’ playlist on shuffle & let your friends pick their favorite of the first five songs!!

thank you for the tags @otrtbs @drowninginthoughts27 and @messymoony <33

no pressure tagging @where-is-vivian @likeprongstostars @snarky-magpie @that-bitch-kat3 @pretentiouswreckingball :)

[e-m-p-error]

| Indie Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss RP Blog | Semi-Selective | Ships W/Chem | Multiship/Multiverse | Crossover/OC/Duplicate Friendly | 43 Muses | 21+ Please | Minors Will Be Blocked On Sight | Mun 25+

| DNI IF MINOR/ANTI/SWERF/TERF | MAJOR WARNING FOR DARK/DEAD DOVE CONTENT | CANON DIVERGENT | HEAVILY HEADCANON-BASED |

| PLEASE READ RULES BEFORE You Follow | 

| Featured Muse: Valentino |

| Mun | Muses | Mains List | Verses | Tags | Interest Tracker | Blog To Do List | Discord Only Muses | Side Blog: Follows Back/Likes From Here |

| Character Playlist Masterlist |

| Ask/Starter Memes | Headcanon Memes | Munday Memes | 

| Starter Call Masterlist | Starters I Owe | Inbox Call Masterlist | Shipping Calls |

| Angel Type Bingo Masterlist | Hellborn Type Bingo Masterlist | Royalty Type Bingo Masterlist | Sinner Type Bingo Masterlist |

Muses:

ANGELS: Abstemiounessa, Adam, Emily, Archangel Uriel, Valore

FANKIDS: Tonito, Dimas, Eden, Lucero, Marica, Pitaya, Vanemma, Vugguch

HELLBORN: Barbie, Cash, Chazz, Crimson, Glitz, Gretchen, Kitty, Stu

ROYALTY: Andrealphus, Leviathan, Baetyl, Beelzebub, Charlie, Mammon, Ozzie, Paimon

SINNERS: Alastor, Angel Dust, Anya, Legiondario, Magpie, Mimzy, Niffty, Ostello, Rosie, Summer, Travis, Valentino, Velvette, Vick, Vox, Zeezi

Alt Verse Muses (Request Only): Gobblette (Brokenverse!Velvette), Lowell (Brokenverse!Ostello), Mickey (Brokenverse!Chazz's Brother), Bogart (Overlord Travis)

NPC/Guest Muses: Anton (Knife-Thrower at Cash's circus), Ariadne (Andrealphus' Wife), Brick (Bodyguard to Ozzie), Chastity (Close Friend to Ozzie), Fabien (Andrealphus' Son), Miss QuiQui (Replacement Fortune Teller at Cash's Circus), Nikiva (Close Friend to Ozzie), Rock (Fizzarolli's Accountant)

NOTE: Most of my muses are canon divergent, but Velvette and Vox are both not canon compliant at all except in appearance!

Note About Vick VS Vox

M!A'S ACCEPTED: 0/5

None At This Time

PROMO - The Vees

PROMO - Valentino

[lehdenlaulu]

@ledbythreads tagged me to post 5 songs I like to listen to. I couldn't decide, so I just put my 'everything + the kitchen sink' playlist on shuffle. 😅

Rage Against The Machine - Guerrilla Radio

Alice In Chains - It Ain't Like That

Manic Street Preachers - A Design For Life

Rammstein - Keine Lust

Nightwish - Élan

(what do you mean I'm stuck in the '90s?? *blows a raspberry*)

Tagging (and no pressure!): @ruthvelyan @artorielle @aranict @jul-likes-magpies & @cleoselene

[moonlitinks]

Writer Q&A Tag Game

Thank you to bestie @writingbyricochet for tagging me! CAN WE JUST START OFF WITH THAT LITTLE WRITING SNIPPET (AND THE KISS SCENE) THAT HAD ME SQUEALING??? I AM SO, SO EXCITED FOR PARADISE LIVED AND DIED. for anyone interested in this amazing writer, her answers are linked here!

1) What motivates you to write?

Whenever I sit there and read a good book in one sitting for hours. The magic. The characters. The romance. The ACTION. It just makes me realize that I want to ignite this same feeling to others, and I want to make my book feel like a second home for them to escape to <3

2) A line/short snippet of your writing that you are most proud/happy of. If not maybe share a line of someone else's work you love (just please credit them)

This is my most recent writing snippet that I'm just SO HAPPY TO WRITE I DON'T KNOW WHY

“Well, I think you’re a selfish—” Rip. The sound of her skirt tearing caused her to pause, and the magpie picked and picked at the edges of her dress. What was it doing? Bari grabbed at the remaining pieces before she exposed herself and got kicked out due to indecency. He stared at her with indifference, scowling like he could not take her at all. “There,” he said. “Now you have no reason to cling to me.” He snatched the magpie from the air and Bari cried out in alarm. Even the bird seemed to sense the dangerous aura that the he emitted, pecking at the space in between them. Altair paused at where the magpie pecked, and his gaze slipped for a second, enough to Bari to snatch her bird back, and the lantern in the other.  She really did need to get rid of the lantern, but it wouldn’t move because, apparently, even an enchanted object believed that she didn’t know what she wanted. “Tell me to take a voice.”

3) Which OC makes you smile every time you think/talk about them and what are they like?

Altair, because he's so complex. I always love a character that is more mysterious and has a lot of history to unpack behind them because of all the awful things they've done, but a lot of guilt and regret following them, too. Seeing their transformation arc is BEAUTIFUL.

4) What process of writing do you enjoy the most?

Drafting and creating plot twists! And brainstorming / daydreaming about ideas. If you can't tell, I'm not much of a plotter haha.

5) What part of writing do you think you are the best at? (Yes stroke your own ego it's okay)

Inner dialogue! And I think I really like getting in depth with characters, so you really know them.

6) What is something in the writeblr community is most enjoyable?

I think I love it because we're all honest about the writing process. Writing is really lonely and it actually can really drain you mentally without the right mindset. Personally, I have a lot of anxiety, so seeing people that understand me really makes me feel like I can write and simply enjoy it. It also makes me feel less alone.

7) A writing tool/device you use that helps you with writing? (It could be speech to text, a writing program etc)

Scrivener, my love. I also love watching author interviews like Chloe Gong and Stephanie Garber and just seeing what their drafting and publishing journey has been like, and it inspires me to write! Pinterest is also great for aesthetics, and Spotify is the best for playlists <3

8) A piece of worldbuilding that you like in your own story? (It could be the magic system, a particular place in the story, a law etc)

I love the Enchanted Kingdom (soon to be named...) I've built so far. It's filled with curses that have been unresolved in the first lives that these gods have lived, and now have reappeared to kinda ruin the Kingdom. My world is very fairytale slash studio ghibli esque, so I'm having so fun with the tidbits now!

9) What piece of advice would you say to encourage others to write if they are having a rough patch?

Oh, God. DO I KNOW THIS PERSONALLY. I swear my rough patch hasn't ended... writing after nearly not writing for a good two years really does something to you.

Writing is all about mindset. It doesn't matter how much of an oddball idea you have. If you don't believe in it, it'll never get finished. Every time I doubted myself, my anxiety got so bad I shut down immediately. And I was so worried about what other people would think when reading my books, that I stopped myself from writing the books I want to write in the first place. Whether you have people around you discouraging to write, or can't believe in yourself, at the end of the day, it's just you and your book. And what's the point of writing if you're just following a trend? Or slugging yourself to finish a book you can't even connect with? Each book is a piece of yourself, and I think the greatest realization I had is to write the story you want to read. And it doesn't matter if it's about some girl who makes a deal with a god to save her sister, or about some alien on a spaceship, or about carnivals! Writing is so amazing because you can connect with readers who enjoy the same things you do, but it all starts with believing in yourself first.

When you get stuck, don't panic. If you haven't read an article about how Boredom Leads to Creativity, maybe take a quick break about writing that first! Writing isn't about who finishes the book first, but it's about quality and a game of luck. Maybe you need a break away from writing. Maybe you need to reconnect with your characters. Maybe you're just tired of toiling over and over again on this plot line.

There is no set method to returning to your project. But what has helped me is learning why I want to write. It doesn't matter how much I return to my world, or try to force my characters into more trauma if there's no reason why I'm writing this. Like, is it to enjoy it? Is it to have people experience these feelings I've felt months ago, and hold importance to me? Even the simplest reasons are the deepest ones. <3

And finally (sorry this advice is literally a hundred pages long, can you tell I'm procrastinating right now?), writing is meant to be serious, but it's also meant to be fun. The draft is simply just that: a draft. You can get ideas from random lines you wrote, or even take out characters to write a different book about! Don't ruin the one thing you've learned to love. Personally, writing in fun / ugly fonts: Arial, Comic Sans, etc., has really helped me focus on what I want to say instead of whether this book will ever get queried or not. Set a routine. Write everyday, or don't if you're more of a mood writer. The instant you feel the itch to write, JUST FUCKING DO IT, OKAY. THIS IS A SIGN. It doesn't matter if it's a scene in the third act and you're only on chapter 1. It's a sign that the story wants you, and only you to write it.

FINALLY FINALLY, I swear this is my last piece of advice, and the shortest: Believe in yourself, even when no one else does. Writing is hard, but rewarding. I believe in you. <3

wowooww that was long, tagging @orphicpoieses @macabremoons @halfbit @leisoree @sleepysuiteheart @the-chaotic-writer @heymacareyna @hallwriteblr @sculpture-in-a-period-drama @pixelw0rds @thetruearchmagos + other mutuals and anyone who wants to participate! i would love to hear your responses, PLEASE.

[whatsnewalycat]

Just Dumb Enough to Try

Chapter 22: Cosmic Love

Word Count: 5k+

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Tags / CW: swearing, cheating/infidelity, domestic abuse, javier's POV, suspense, reminiscing, lets talk about fate bay-be, chats with chucho, fluff, hindsight is 20/20, cops, police interview, pregnancy mention

Chapter Summary: Javier finds out our hero has been kidnapped.

Notes: Chapter title from "Cosmic Love" by Florence + The Machine. I'm posting a little early because I'm avoiding homework right now so, ya know, yell at me to do my homework or something if you want. Thank you so much for reading, I appreciate you!

[ Masterlist for Series ] [ Taglist ] [ Spotify Playlist ] [ AO3 ]

Peña Ranch, Laredo, TX July 30, 1998

I need to get fucking glasses.

Javier’s eyes flick to the rearview mirror for approximately the 73rd time on the drive home. Periodically, the bright morning sunlight bounces off something on the road or in the ditch, drawing his attention to the shine like he’s a magpie. His eyes play tricks on him, making him think there’s a car in the wake of the thick dust plume being spit out by the truck’s tires.

He’s paranoid. Rightly so.

All the red flags he brushed off, telling himself it’s not his place to push you into leaving Dan. Thinking you would tell him if it got too dangerous to stay in that house.

This flare of self-righteous anger burns out, and his skin feels like it’s two sizes too small when he recalls the day you told him you had to do something to throw off Dan’s suspicions. Those words. You had to do it. He knew something was wrong, really, didn’t he?

“I don’t want him, Javi, I just want you.”

“Are you leaving him?”

“What if I do? What happens then?”

He saw the abrasions on your face. The tortured look in your eyes. The way you cried when you explained it to him. He knew, in his heart, that you didn’t want to do it. He knew you didn’t have the resources to leave on your own.

After telling you that you didn’t have to do it alone, you came to him, and he retreated. He was scared. He didn’t want to ruin what you have by living together so soon. It feels so fucking pathetic in retrospect. Especially because it came at the risk of your safety.

Because now Dan knows. Found out on his own accord, too. Caught you red-handed. Fucking surveillance cameras.

This was not the way either of you wanted it to go. Before the cameras, there was deniability. You would leave a note saying you left because of the abuse. You could say that Javi, your close friend, gave you shelter in your time of need. Then, if something more than friendship grew between you, it wouldn’t look as dastardly to people (most importantly, to Dan).

The crazy son of a bitch is up to something. Javi kicks himself mentally. He spent last night wrapped around you, sleeping on Dan’s side of the bed. The bliss of love and new beginnings clouded his judgement. Never knowing every second was being recorded.

Not only did Dan get footage of the two of you fucking on the kitchen counter, but he probably also saw you kneeling on the living room floor between Javi’s legs last night, swallowing his cock before he blew his load on your tits. If the closet camera had a clear shot of the bed, there’s also footage from last night before bed and this morning after waking up.

He reaches the end of the driveway and puts the truck in park, then kills the engine. The tightness of his skin continues to irk him. Acid bubbles in his stomach and up his throat, burning his chest.

Javi tells himself that, despite the alarming record he has, Dan is just some lanky psycho that’s feeling jilted. It will be fine. He’s dealt with worse than this. Fucking cartels, for fuck’s sake. One Nick Carter looking motherfucker isn’t a threat. Not really.

He feels conflicted about his desire to kill Dan. The image of Dan sprawled out in the dirt with a hole in his head should make Javi feel sick, but it doesn’t. On one hand, Dan has hurt you in a plethora of despicable ways. On the other hand…

Well. Javi isn’t able to come up with anything to put on the other hand. Which might be where the conflict within him lies. He sees no downside to it. Should he?

If he had been carrying last Saturday night, it would have been over then. Javi used to be as hot-headed as they come, but he’s had to cultivate quite a bit of self-restraint throughout the years.

Hearing that fucking snake call you a cunt and use your family traumas against you was more than enough to allow that familiar all-encompassing red field of vision to take over his actions. Like that an old friend who used to get him into trouble, the red came back to push Javier over the edge when his rational brain was impeding his ability to act.

Explaining Dan’s murder to the police would be a pain in the ass, maybe, but the castle doctrine is strongly upheld in Texas courts. There might be some fallout within the community. Maybe people around town won’t be so fucking chummy with him, then. Their pats on the back as he’s praised for his work in the DEA. Javier Peña, a selfless hero in the war on drugs. It makes him sick to his stomach when strangers tell him how proud they are of him. If they only knew.

Pickles barks at the truck, impatient with his owner’s uncharacteristic lagging. It snaps Javi out of his thoughts. He gets out and crouches down to pet the enthusiastic pup, who wags his stump of a tail, then rolls onto his back, wriggling back and forth, exposing wispy white fur in a plea for belly scratches. His owner grants this request, then stands up straight and strides up the path and into the house.

“Hello?” he calls out when he opens the door. There’s an unintelligible response from Chucho’s bedroom. Javi pursues it and finds his dad rifling through a sock drawer, grumbling to himself. Javi leans against the doorframe, then knocks on it to draw attention his way, “Hey, I have to talk to you about something.”

“Hmm?” Chucho responds without looking.

How the fuck do I even explain this?

Javi clears his throat and crosses his arms, crinkling his nose as he starts, “So, Dan Baker might be coming here soon…”

This gets his attention. He turns around and blinks at his son expectantly. When Javi opens his mouth to talk, then closes it and looks at the ground, Chucho sighs, “Christ almighty, Javier-“

“I know,” Javi sets his jaw, then raises his head to meet his father’s eyes, “She was going to leave him a note today to break up with him-”

“She didn’t break up with him yet?” Chucho scoffs.

“You don’t understand, Dad. This past weekend, I saw him try to drag her into a shed to- to-“ Javi groans and runs a hand over his face, then decides to simplify it, throwing his hands up as he says, “It’s not safe for her to break up with him in person. Trust me."

“So the crazy man is coming here?” Chucho stares, a sock dangling from each hand.

“Most likely. There were cameras at his house, we think he saw us together,” Javi tilts his head and sighs, “And he wasn’t at work when she called there, just left, saying there was a family emergency.”

“Is she here?” Chucho furrows his brow, then leans forward to look past Javier out the doorway.

“No, I had her go to San Antonio. It’ll be safer there.”

Chucho nods, planting his hands on his hips, still holding his socks, as he absorbs this information.

Javier break the tense silence, “So, if you wanted to get out of here-“

“And leave you here alone to deal with this?” Chucho scoffs, “No. I’ll stay.”

Javi starts in a plea, “Dad-“

“It’s not a question,” he meets his son with a piercing stare, asserting that he is not fucking around.

Javi shifts off of the doorframe and pinches the bridge of his nose, conceding, “Fine.”

“Damn right it’s fine, this is my fuckin’ house,” Chucho scoffs, then mutters something under his breath as he finally folds the socks together and throws them back into the drawer.

—

Javi wipes beads of sweat off his face with the back of his hand and curses to himself, “What the fuck is taking so long?”

Pickles whines and tilts his head as if he understands and sympathizes. The squeak-bang of the house’s screen door drags his attention away from the bend in the road he’s been fixating on for the past hour. Chucho groans as he sits down in the chair next to his son, joints screaming from inside his body. After a few moments of silence, he turns and inquires, “Can I ask you something?”

“Hmm?” Javi scans the horizon, rubs his mouth, then plucks a cigarette between his lips. He lights it, then stands up and takes a few steps away, so as to not fumigate his dad.

“Is she worth all this trouble?” Chucho squints at Javier as he asks this, studying his reaction.

Javi chuckles and nods an exhale of blue smoke, “Yeah.” He casts a glance down at the glowing red cherry of the cigarette, takes a drag, and adds, “She uhh… she sees me. Really sees me. And she doesn’t look away. Makes me laugh. Calls me on my bullshit,” he chuckles, exhales slowly, takes another drag, then continues, “God, she’s just so beautiful. And there’s this chemistry between us, and it’s,” he leans back and looks over to his dad, smiling wide as they make eye contact, “I don’t even know. It’s indescribable.”

Fucking love magic.

Words he swears he can hear you say. He takes a drag and exhales, “I love her. She’s worth it.”

Chucho watches Javi’s face, then nods knowingly. A minute passes. Javi crushes the spent cigarette in an ash tray, then sits back down.

“Did you feel like that with Mom?”

Chucho hums in the affirmative, nodding his head, then clears his throat and says, “Your abuelita brought us to CCD at St. Mary’s. I was a shy kid, didn’t know anyone there besides my brothers and sisters. But our first time there, your mother, she sat right down next to me, gave me that big bright smile,” he stops and looks over to Javi, “Your smile. You got that from her, you know,” he looks back out to the horizon and recalls, “She told me that her name is Rosemary and she wants to be my friend. And I knew… I knew I would marry her someday.”

“Ah, madrecita. Always a social butterfly.” Javi chuckles and casts a rueful smile to his dad. While letting this fond memory sink into his long-term memory, he contrasts it with how he met you. He sighs, looks up the driveway again, and admits, “I was a tool the first time I met her. My cariño, not mom, obviously. But I somehow got a second chance. Then a third,” he shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair, “I still can’t believe she ended up here of all places.”

“Universe had to figure out a way to push you two dumbasses together,” Chucho comments, then laughs heartily and gives his son an endearing smile.

Javi smiles bright and wide- his mother’s smile- shaking his head as he tells his dad, “She always says shit like that. That it was fate we met again. Meant to be.”

“And what do you think?” Chucho frowns as he looks over to Javi.

“I don’t know,” he admits honestly, leaning forward, pressing his elbows into his knees, “Fate has never made any goddamn sense to me, but somehow coincidence makes even less sense.”

When Javier returned from Columbia a few months ago, everything he did felt like a homework assignment that he didn’t give a shit about completing. He was just spinning his wheels, one inane task after another. Fucking pointless. Fueled entirely by escapism and expectations.

Then he saw you during a particularly busy night at the Pour House. He doesn’t even know what it was about you that commanded his attention. It felt magnetic. His eyes met yours and the world stopped turning, as fucking corny as that sounds. Kimmy said something to him that pulled his attention away, which was enough time for you to disappear and leave him reeling. Before he knew that you were one in the same, it reminded him of when he met that girl in San Antonio.

The first time he laid eyes on you, he thought you were fucking gorgeous. Couldn’t keep himself from staring at you. Again, that gravitational pull like he’s being sucked into your orbit. Maybe you felt it, too. He thinks you did. In your retelling of that night, and how did you put it?

“Then I saw you. I wanted you.”

Maybe the two of you were always going to collide. Two spiraling galaxies pulled in by the other’s gravity, dancing closer and closer until they merge into one singular, dazzling, elliptical galaxy.

That night in 1993, he saw Michelle look up after you said something to her. Fuck-me-eyes flitting up to his with a wave of her manicured hand. He knew immediately that she would be open to casual sex, and that’s all he was trying to do. Nothing serious. Just trying to have some fun. Pining for distractions that would flood his brain with feel-good chemicals.

When Michelle had gone to bed, he fully intended on calling a cab to go back to Ricardo’s place. But, to his surprise, you were out in the living room. His heart pounded in his chest as he recognized you from the bar. When he talked to you, it felt like he knew you already. You made him smile. He couldn’t remember the last time he cracked a smile that wasn’t forced.

He still doesn’t know why he asked you what your worst fear is. The question, and subsequent answer, felt like it stumbled out of his mouth by accident. So scared by his own honesty, he trembled as he admitted to you that it’s being alone forever. You held his shaky hand and told him, “you’re not going to be alone forever,” like it was a promise you intended to keep. He simultaneously hoped you would keep and break that promise.

You fell asleep holding his hand. He stayed until dawn started to seep in through the cheap plastic vertical blinds. When he finally got up to leave, his chest ached as he let go of you. The sleep he was able to get at Ricardo’s house was restless and tortured by the thought of you.

He went back there after another night of trying (unsuccessfully) to shake you from his psyche, greeted by your sex-on-legs roommate when he gathered the courage to knock on the door. She offered him a drink, which lead to (quite a few) more, under the guise of playing the college dorm room classic “never have I ever”, which lead to making out in the light of that tacky neon OPEN sign.

And, listen, he’s only a man. A man that, despite the intent of the visit, was always chasing his next dopamine rush. So when Michelle whispered in his ear between their sloppy drunken kisses, asking him to bury his head between her thighs, of course he was going to oblige.

When he followed Michelle back out to the living room after sex, his heart skipped a beat when he saw the light was on behind your bedroom door. He wondered what you were doing in there and where you were earlier. He wondered what your sheets smelled like. Did they smell like lavender, just like you?

You came out and joined them, played the silly drinking game. He made some remark, insinuating a threesome, and the way you got all flustered at his comment made his cock pulse with desire.

Sex-on-legs Michelle turned incredibly crass, which upset you. After you left the room, he told Michelle they should go to sleep together, then left the bed the second she started to snore. He waited on the couch, hoping you would come back out. And you did. Your doe-eyes were shiny and pained as you told him you wished he was with you instead of Michelle. Soft-spoken and nervous, you confessed you wanted him to fuck you hard. A juxtaposition that drove him wild.

Then it happened. It was like you were sharing the same instincts, working together so fluidly, stumbling back asswards into an intimacy that somehow felt both foreign and familiar, and it marked him. Whiskey and weed on your tongue, lavender wafting off your skin and hair, your soft skin against his, breathy moans as you buried him in your perfect cunt, love-blown eyes meeting his as you both reached climax. Two celestial bodies colliding. You nestled deep into the folds of his brain.

He didn’t know what to do with this inexplicable connection he felt to you. It mystified him. And terrified him.

But now? It’s all he wants.

Butterflies flitter around his stomach. A sigh escapes Javi as he rolls his eyes because are you fucking kidding me, cariño? Butterflies? But that’s what you do to him.

His gaze drops to the silver watch on his wrist. It’s been almost two hours since he parted ways with you. You should be getting to the hotel soon. He stands up and puts some space between himself and Chucho, then lights another cigarette. His eyes fix on the bend in the road and he tries to ignore the persistent static of anxiety beneath his too-tight skin. Pickles whines at Javi’s feet, sensing his owner’s distress.

—

Three hours since parting ways. The number of cigarette butts in Javi’s ashtray grows exponentially. He calls the hotel and they say the line to your room is busy. The twisting in his gut gets harder to ignore every time the minute hand of his watch ticks forward. Something isn’t right. He calls Ricardo and asks him to go check on you.

When he hangs up, the phone buzzes to tell him there’s a new voicemail. He clicks on it.

“Hey, it’s me, just-”

BOOM BOOM BOOM

“Jesus fucking Christ, sorry, checking in with you. I’m in room 516. Give me-“

BOOM BOOM BOOM

“ONE SECOND- Give me a call. I love you.”

This is where he expects the message to end. His head tilts as he wonders who the fuck is at the door. Ricardo wouldn’t be there already. There’s a clatter like you tried to hang the phone on the receiver, but missed.

Javi starts pacing back and forth, eyes scanning the horizon as he tries to finely tune his ears and pick up the faint background noises.

Door closing and locking.

Your voice. What are you saying? Who are you talking to?

A man’s voice. Javi’s heart leaps in his throat. Dan’s voice. He growls, “Get over there and sit the fuck down. Fucking whore, I should have known. How fucking dare you.”

“I’m sorry, Dan, I’m sorry-“

Your voice is closer now. You’re sobbing.

“You have no fucking clue how sorry you’re about to be.”

Dan’s voice is closer, too. Javi storms inside the house and snaps up the keys to the truck.

There’s a commotion and the phone clatters, then your frantic voice directly in Javi’s ear, “He’s here, he’s dressed in a blue suit, red t-“

The message ends.

—

CCTV footage from the hotel and the parking lot show that Dan walked you out to his car and forced you into the trunk at approximately 13:15. The San Antonio Police Department got to the hotel at 13:45. By that time, you were no longer within city limits. SAPD is able to track Dan’s movements until 13:50, which is when a traffic camera captured footage of his vehicle traveling westbound on I-35. After that, nothing.

The hotel room was blocked off as a crime scene, the police put out an APB on Dan and his vehicle, and they alerted the border patrol.

When Javi gets there at 14:45, Ricardo is waiting in the parking lot, leaning on the grill of his car as he watches a forensics team search, photograph, and catalog everything in your station wagon. He jumps up when he sees Javi parking his truck.

“What the fuck’s going on, man?” Ricardo asks as Javi jumps out of the cab and starts off toward the hotel.

He receives a grunt in reply, but follows his cousin into the building, then the elevator. On the ride up, Javi puts a hand on his hip and pinches the bridge of his nose, rattling out, “She was in a relationship when we started seeing each other. And he found out about us. We were moving her into Pop’s place with me today. She was getting out. I thought he would come to me so I told her to-“ he stops when a sharp, gutting feeling stretches across his abdomen. Lump in his throat. Stinging behind his eyes.

The elevator doors open. He stands up straight and ignores his insides being spliced into mincemeat. Ignores the voice in his head.

She told me she didn’t want to come here. I didn’t listen to her. She told me she wanted to stay with me. And I made her come here. I didn’t listen to her.

Ricardo mumbles as he trails behind Javier, “Fuck, Jav. Oh fuck.”

Javi hunts down room 514, brushing shoulders with people from San Antonio’s criminal investigation unit as they move from room to room conducting witness interviews. When he finds the room, it’s being guarded by a stocky, shiny-headed cop in uniform. Javier places a bet with himself that the man used to be a bouncer. He extends his hand to the police officer and explains as they shake, “Javier Peña, I called this in. What do you guys have?”

The cop, Officer Goodwin according to his name plate, informs Javi of the CCTV footage and the APB, then states, “We have units out on all the major highways, watching out for them. Think he’s probably gonna take her back towards Laredo somewhere. Detectives are in contact with local police.”

“I need to talk to the lead on the case,” Javi states, peering around Officer Goodwin. A leather-skinned graying man stands inside the crime scene, near the foot of the bed, with his arms crossed. Indicating that he was listening in on the exchange, he waves Javi into the room. Javier side-steps Goodwin through the doorway and approaches the detective, trying his hardest to keep his face neutral as a fresh batch of stomach acid splashes up into his throat.

The room is almost identical to one he had worshipped your body in just two weeks prior. Almost identical. This queen-sized bed’s white linens are still crisp, smelling of bleach, instead of a lived-in love nest built by the two of you. Lavender and cedarwood, the musk of sex and sweat, lingering cigarette smoke, whispered secrets and promises woven between the fibers of the 250-thread count sheets throughout the night.

Aside from the cold, grease stained pizza box sitting on a dresser, the room appears sterile in a way only decent hotel rooms can. No signs of a struggle is the thought that comes to Javi’s mind, but he doesn’t want to be too macabre.

“Detective Anderson,” he uncrosses his arms and shakes Javi’s hand, “Maria said you’re the victim’s fiancé, ain’t that right?”

The assumption causes him to wince.

“Not quite. The man that took her, Daniel Baker, is- or, was- her fiancé. I’m her,” Javi shifts his weight onto one leg and shrugs, “boyfriend, I guess.”

He can tell by the wrinkle in Detective Anderson’s brow that the situation is already brewing up some confusion, so Javier clarifies with a frown, “We’ve been seeing each other since June, and she just left him today. Or, she was going to when…”

Anderson nods, then looks around the room and back to Javi, “Say, do you think we could talk about this more? Forensics is just finishing up here. Front desk folks gave us the go ahead to use a room downstairs if you’re ok with that. Otherwise we can go down to the station. Don’t matter much to me.”

Javier flattens his mouth into a tight line and nods, “Downstairs is fine,” then follows the detective, past Officer Goodwin, then past Ricardo. Once successfully sequestered in a conference room on the ground floor, Javier begrudgingly settles into one of the squeaky, lightly padded chairs across the table from Anderson, who puts a tape recorder on the table between them and presses the record button.

“So you say you and the victim have been involved romantically since June, is that correct?”

He remembers sitting across from you at Nico’s when your eyes welled with tears.

“The only thing I’ve done for me… is spend time with you. I like you. And being around you makes me feel like I’m choosing what I want to do, for once. Which is… terrifying.”

You shoved yourself away from the table and tried to hide in the bathroom, but he followed you. He was so proud of you. With your confession, you gave him permission to stop hiding from you, too.

“June 17th is when we,” Javi clears his throat and shifts in his seat, “started a sexual relationship.”

“And you’ve been seeing each other since then?”

“Correct.”

“And she broke things off with Daniel Baker today?”

“Not yet, technically. She was moving in with me today, and we were- she was going to leave a note breaking things off with him. It wasn’t safe for her to do it in person. Obviously.”

“It wasn’t safe for her to do it in person,” Anderson repeats Javier’s words, then asks, “Could you explain that more?”

“Last Saturday, I witnessed Dan physically and sexually assaulting her. Dan’s sister, Kimberley Baker and the victim’s friend, Claudia Klitzke, were also witnesses to this incident,” Javier pulls out a pack of cigarettes and raises an eyebrow, “Do you mind?”

Anderson shakes his head, so Javi lights one and takes a drag, pulling a nearby ashtray closer. He continues, “She specifically stated that she did not want him to touch her and he disregarded this statement. He suggested sexual intercourse, to which she declined, then he dragged her across a patio with the intent to seclude her and force her into sexual intercourse. Thankfully, we were able to intervene before he secluded her.

“This May, he coerced her into quitting her job as an elementary school teacher, then had her close her bank accounts and sign over her life’s savings to him. She doesn’t have access to these funds,” he takes a long, sizzling drag, then speaks through an exhale of blue smoke as his nostrils flare, “This past Sunday, in retaliation for not letting him rape her, he disposed of her cat. I’ve personally witnessed him verbally abusing her on multiple occasions. Mid-July, he sexually assaulted her, forcing his dick down her throat. Shall I continue or do you understand why it wasn’t safe for her to confront him in person about this?”

“I think I am understanding,” Anderson concedes with an arched brow at Javi's hostility, “What happened today?”

“Last night I helped her pack her things at their house. He has softball every Wednesday night here in San Antonio, so we assumed it would be a safe time to do this-“

“Do you know which softball team, or anyone on the team?”

“No. His family might,” Javi answers, then continues previous thought, “This morning we found he had hidden cameras around the house. The assumption we made is that he had the footage uploaded to his office at work.”

“LPD were able to locate all the cameras and they’re obtaining a warrant for his work computer at currently,” Anderson advises coolly.

“Good. I don’t want any of the footage to leak. It… it’s very private,” Javier meets Anderson’s eyes and the look they share says the unspoken words: it’s porn. Javi clears his throat, then continues, “I don’t know how he knew to find her here-“

“GPS tracking,” the detective explains.

Javi nods and hums in acknowledgement, “I see. I- I asked her to come here, assuming that the first place Dan would go is to my house.”

“Makes sense.”

“Is LPD at Dan’s house still?”

“Yes.”

“There’s a red shoe box in the office closet that contains, what appeared to be, a fake passport with Dan’s picture,” Javi takes another drag, then extinguishes his cigarette in the ashtray, “On my way here, I was thinking about where he could have brought her. Dan and I have mutual friends with a man named Greg Walker. He’s a realtor, might have empty properties he’s mentioned to Dan. I can give him a call and see if he’s able to give any information.”

“That’s very helpful, Mr. Peña, thank you.”

“I don’t know if Maria back at the precinct explained this to you or not, but I’m former DEA. I was in Columbia for a decade and was on the team that took down Escobar and The Cali Cartel,” he runs a hand through his hair, slightly uncomfortable name dropping monsters to this detective in order to gain credibility, but continues anyway, “I’m here to help in any way I can. And I- I love this woman, I want to bring her home.”

“We are more than willing to work with you in this investigation,” Anderson taps his fingers against the table, then leans forward and draws his eyebrows together as he meets Javi’s gaze, “There’s one thing that LPD found that I wanted to ask you about.”

Javier nods, signaling for the detective to continue.

“They found two positive pregnancy tests and the empty box they came in inside the bathroom garbage. Do you know if she’s pregnant?”

His mouth falls open, gaping at the detective. He can hear blood whooshing in his ears as he processes this information.

“I have to tell you something.”

“Baby, we have to go-“

You were trying to tell him. His lungs deflate and he utters the only word he can think at the moment, “Fuck.”

[ Next Chapter ]

[banashee]

Got tagged by @lucianinsanity, thanks friend!

rules: shuffle your 'on repeat' playlist & post the first ten tracks, then tag ten people 🎶 (But please do not feel pressured to do so.)

🖤🦇🖤🦇🖤🦇🖤🦇🖤🦇🖤🦇

1) Vision Video - Normalized

2) Ghost - Dance Marcabre

3) Vision Video - Death in a Hallway

4) Lebanon Hanover - The Last Thing

5) Project Pitchfork - Conjure

6) Ringfinger - Cloak And Dagger

7) Metallica - Fuel

8) Vision Video - In My Side (Modern Horror)

9) Ghost - Cirice

10) Katatonia - My Twin

🦇🖤🦇🖤🦇🖤🦇🖤🦇🖤🦇🖤🦇🖤

Tagging you Folks if you want to do this - as always, no pressure of course!

@famosoentrescalles @lilolilyr @gehetzterfuchs @undefeatednils @pocketsizedquasar @lucky-numberme @coffeeaddicted-stark @bananaink @coulson-is-an-avenger @three-magpies-in-a-trenchcoat

And anyone who wants to do this but hasn't been mentioned. Feel free to tag me and do the thing 😁

[los-camp-daily]

ooc again

well would you look at that

updated Los design! Plus a moodboard i impulsively set up! i’ll need a lore reason for why they sprout magpie wings but eh.. who knows yk. maybe radiation gave him sickass wings

OC INFO: Los - They/He - Aroace - Enby

oh also they have a playlist now. for fun yk ^^

anyways @ave-daily got a slight sneak peek of this little idiot so they’re getting tagged

[prolix-yuy]

url song game!

Thanks for the tag @amywritesthings!

rules: go to your playlist and find a song for each letter of your URL, then tag some friends to do the same

I took a look through Spotify for this one

Play with Fire / Sam Tinnesz Reckless Driving / Lizzie McAlpine Overwhelmed / Ryan Mack Lose Control / Teddy Swims I Don't Trust Myself (With Loving You) / John Mayer X Gon' Give It To Ya - DMX You Should See Me in a Crown / Billie Eilish Uh Oh / Amber Van Day You? / Two Feet

NP Tags @missredherring @magpie-to-the-morning @moonlitbirdie @mothandpidgeon and anyone who wants to play!

[takami-takami]

Top 0.05 of Louie Zong listeners, which is unsurprising because it's been the same for the past three years in a row now LMAO. To be fair, at least one of his songs is in most of my playlists.

- magpie anon ✦

OHHH THE QUICHE MAN !!! I remember!

I just looked up his top song and omg I recognize Ghost Duet!!! I kept seeing animal crossing videos to it a while back when I used to have tiktok. It sounds like an animal crossing song to me in my mind.

I still remember that music tag meme you tagged me in, your music taste is so incredibly pleasant.

[scifimagpie]

Tagged: 10 Songs Tag

@dyrewrites got me with this one!

My ten tags: @ink-bunny-blue @sleepyowlwrites @abalonetea @toribookworm22 @wordwings @hd-literature @moondust-bard @elshells @leebrontide @miles-style-blog1

Rules: Use your WIP playlist and put it on shuffle. Write the first 10 songs that come up and quote your favorite lyrics from each song and/or the lyrics that fit your WIP best (they might be the same lyrics), then tag 10 people.

The book: The Foundling City (the Nightmare Cycle)

Playlist: here

Who Will Save Your Soul (Jewel)

You know you love him if you put him in your will...

Magpie to the Morning (Neko Case)

Close your eyes now, kid/Morning's teeth are waiting/Waiting, they are waiting...

Last Night of the World (Bruce Cockburn)

Milling humans; shivering energy glows/fusing the spaces between them with bar-throb bass and laughter...

Also:

I've seen the flame of hope among the hopeless/and that was truly the biggest heartbreak of all/That was the straw that broke me open...

She Wolf (Shakira)

I'm starting to feel just a little abused/like a coffee machine in an office...

Touch (Shura)

All I wanna do is go home with you/but something's changed, and I don't know why...

Rude (Selena Gomez cover of Magic!)

Why'd'ya have to be so rude?/Don't'cha know I'm human, too?

Between My Teeth (Orla Gartland)

In a perfect world, I'm the perfect girl/So together, always there to solve your problems/But underneath It's bittersweet/The more I give/the more I'm feeling incomplete...

Ocean Breathes Salty (Modest Mouse)

Collected my belongings and I left the jail/Well, thanks for the time, I needed to think a spell...

Gold Dust Woman (Fleetwood Mac)

Rulers make bad lovers/You better put your kingdom up for sale/Up for sale...

Stand By Me (Ben E. King)

When the night has come/And the land is dark/And the moon is the only light we'll see/No, I won't be afraid, oh, I won't be afraid/Just as long as you stand, stand by me

Enjoy!

[benditozorrito]

15 Questions 15 Mutuals

Tagged by @Kf-tea

1. Are you named after anyone?

In terms of my deadname yes- I was named after my mother, and it was (as often is for spanish families) in combination with my middle name, which is after my grandmother.

My current name isn't after a family member, but has a symbolic relation to my deadname.

2. When was the last time you cried?

Maybe a month ago because I was worried I hurt my girlfriend's feelings :'D

3. Do you have kids?

Nope. I like kids, but no desire to have my own.

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

I think I used to be more so. These days it tends to come out only in two ways: if I am currently with someone I know very well and who knows I am not being mean-spirited, or if I am with a stranger and they are being an ass lol.

5. What sports do you play/have played?

I was a very active kid and would do all the sports! Though my favorites were soccer, and martial arts, tae kwon do and shinkendo. I have been meaning to get back into martial arts when I have more time.

6. Whats the first thing you notice about people?

I think its a tie between the persons overall face shape/facial features and their voice.

7. What's your eye colour?

Brown lol deep brown but still light enough that its not hard to see my pupils. Unless under a black light apparently lmao

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

Not sure why these are mutually exclusive? But happy endings regardless of genre lol

9. Any special talents?

Art things mostly. I'm especially skilled at drawing figures and some animals. I'm a decent singer although that is completely untrained lol

I also have a strange talent for making puns completely unintentionally so they come out very sincerely and then 5 seconds later I laugh at it

10. Where were you born?

Arizona

11. What are your hobbies?

Drawing extremely self indulgent art, curating playlists for OCs-both for drawing noise and to imagine cool amvs in my head about them, singing and playing guitar, playing video games and occasionally blogging about them, watching old animes and reading old mangas

12. Do you have pets?

One fluffball tortie named Pumpkin who I really ought to post more pictures of. There are plans for a kitten-puppy duo soon though now that we live in a house lol

13. How tall are you?

I'm just going to say about 5' since I have apparently already begun shrinking LOL;;

14. Favorite subject in school?

Aside from art, I have always loved history-particularly the period from about the 1100s to the 1700s, Music, and P.E.

15. Dream job?

I mean I want to just make web comics, play music, sing, and maybe make some video game lets plays

But since capitalism is a thing I'm aiming for a day-job of catalogging video game archives lol

I have little awareness of who are my mutuals so I am just going to tag 15 people with the help of my activity feed lmao;;;

@draegaa @olcanartcorner @preludeinz @yuki-bushido @thethirdamell @an-apocalypse-of-magpies @jonnothyvase @heirrogance @thesecondbeth @bunchabears @mcfishayy-blog @phyi @goodluxray @galvanismgal @kohibean

[woonadaar]

shuffle your On Repeat playlist and list the first 10 songs that play, then tag 10 people

yay was tagged by sweet mutual @hawkesfavor

Ghost - Cirice

Dimmu Borgir - Archaic Correspondence

Ghost - Absolution

Ghost - Spirit

Slipknot - Pulse of the Maggots

Kevin Sherwood, Elena Siegman, Corey Redgrift - Lullaby Of A Deadman

Kevin Sherwood, Elena Siegman - The One

Slaughter to Prevail - Baba Yaga

Kevin Sherwood, Elena Siegman - Beauty Of Annihilation

Brand of Sacrifice, Will Ramos - Lifeblood

Would you like to play? @leaphia, @echo-the-ghost, @defiledtomb, @sarahgotbored, @oni-queen-magpie, @vajrus, @citronmousse, @like-youknow-whatever

[e-m-p-error]

𝐓𝐀𝐆 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐏𝐄𝐎𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑!

𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐑(𝐒): Purple, green, orange, black, red, teal, light blue, yellow, pink, and seafoam green. I love pastels and dark colors!

𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑(𝐒): Sweet/Salty is the best!

𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐂: I listen to such a huge variety of music it's not even funny. My playlist can go from Disney music to screamo to alternative rock to pop to rap in a heartbeat.

𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐄(𝐒): Donnie Darko, Dreamcatcher, Shrooms, Code 8, The Invitation

𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒: Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss obvs. Face Off, Ed Edd n Eddy, Hey Arnold, Kitchen Nightmares, Good Eats

𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆: Something Corporate - Punk Rock Princess

𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒: Face Off

𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐄: Pitch Perfect

𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆: Stephen King - Dreamcatcher

𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆: Nothing

𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐍: Magpie's playlist and some asks

Tagged By: @hellsmayflower

Tagging: @radicheart, @helluvahell, @seven-circlllxs, @infernal-feminae, @ladiesofhell, @immediatexmurderxprofessionals

[unwillingadventurer]

tagged by @suchamiracle-does-exist thank you :)

favourite colour: Katie- green and Claire- red.

last song: Katie- Something from my playlist, Moody Blues maybe. Claire- Not sure exactly, probably a Muse track.

last movie: 'Suddenly'. It's a Frank Sinatra film where he's hired to kill the president.

currently watching: Just finished Bodies and Warriors. Watching Interview with the Vampire, Boiling Point, a Charles II drama, All Creatures Great and Small (new version).

other stuff we watched this year: Not sure if this means TV, film or plays because we've watched so many of each this year. We got a subscription to national theatre at home for a month so watched like 8-10 plays favourites include Much Ado about Nothing, Leopoldstadt, All My Sons, Taste of Honey. We've watched like 50 new films to us already this year and countless TV as well so will just pick a few TV ones we really liked:

Mayflies, Atlantic Crossing, Succession, Magpie Murders, Sixth Commandment, I Claudius, The Long Shadow, Ghosts, The Forsyte Saga.

shows I dropped this year: Not sure.

currently reading: Decline and Fall by Evelyn Waugh. We also just finished 1984.

currently listening to: Nothing specific. Oh we have been listening to the Ghosts podcasts, really make us laugh.

currently working on: Halloween fics.

current obsession/s: Always Anthony Valentine. Found his Call My Bluff eps (well two) and we're just watching those happily swooning.

tagging anyone who wants to do this :)