#may 22: night (metaphorical)

[lisbeth-kk]

May Prompts (22) Night

The Luckiest Girl in the World (chapter 22)

I'm so sorry. Go get those tissues. I've used all of mine.

Summary: Rosie gets devastating news, and all she can think of is how her Papa is coping.

Twenty-Two Years Old

When Dad called with the news, my first thought was quite irrational: oh no, we’re never going to celebrate our twentieth anniversary! The second thought hit me with force and made me breathless: how is Papa doing?

“I’ll hop on the next…”

“No need, sweetheart. A car will pick you up in approximately fifteen minutes,” Dad assured me, and that’s when I started to cry.

***

Uncle Myc stood and waited for me outside the car when I ran to the kerb. His arms opened and I collapsed against him, heartbroken and totally devastated. He didn’t try to comfort me with words of nonsense, like it’s going to be ok, because he knew it would be a long time before any of us would be fine after this sudden and tragic loss.

“She seemed fine yesterday,” I told uncle Myc on the way home.

“Yes, so I have been…informed,” he sighed.

“How is he?” I asked, terrified of the answer.

“As expected.”

“Rock bottom,” I mumbled, and felt my throat tighten painfully from withheld tears.

“Indeed,” uncle agreed gravely.

***

It was worse than I expected. Papa’s loud voice boomed like a signal horn from upstairs when I locked us in.

“How could you not have seen the signs? You’re a bloody doctor, John!”

The words were spit like venom. I couldn’t discern Dad’s reply, but his voice was calm. He knew Papa wasn’t angry at him, but he needed to vent his sorrow, shock and devastation at someone. Luckily for everyone involved, Papa had chosen the right person for such an onslaught.

Before I climbed the stairs, I looked over at Nana’s door.

Gone. Dead. You’ll never see her again. There’ll be no more Christmas baking. She’ll never scold Papa for being petulant anymore. England has fallen.

The seventeen steps had never been so steep, my body never so heavy, and at the same time it felt hollow. 

“Nearly there, Rosamund,” uncle Myc murmured from behind me.

I woke from my daze and realised that the shouting had stopped. In its wake came a sound so heartbreaking, it made tears flow down my cheeks. Before I opened the door, a thought hit me like a battering ram, making me lose my balance for a moment.

If Papa mourned Nana like this, he would be utterly destroyed if Dad died before him. Not even his biological family’s demise could elicit such grief from him.

***

Inside the flat, Papa clung to Dad, and it struck me how small he seemed in that moment. So lost and bereft. This was not a puzzle he could solve, or a culprit he could catch to make everything right again.

“Rosie’s home,” Dad whispered to Papa and reached for me.

I didn’t think Papa would let go of Dad, give me room, or even detect the words, but he did. My name seemed to have a magical effect on him, because he straightened, turned his pained face at me and lifted his arm to indicate that I was welcomed into his and Dad’s cocoon. We held on to each other for what felt like hours. Dad asking if we were alright, Papa muttering something under his breath, and I just clung to my parents, wordless.

Dad, always reliable in a crisis, remembered that there was another person present, and carefully entangled himself after kissing us both, guiding our arms to embrace. Papa mumbled his name questioningly.

“Just give me a few minutes, Sherlock. Take care of Rosie, yeah?”

Papa nodded and pulled me closer, cradling the back of my head, whispering my precious girland I’m so sorry you have to go through this, and she loved you like a granddaughter.

***

The days leading up to the funeral alternated between the three of us sharing memories about the core of 221 Baker Street, what we would miss most about her, and lots and lots of crying. 

Dad was our rock in all of this, despite that he grieved his former landlady too. Some nights, Papa was inconsolable, and I thought his heart would literally break. He curled up in bed and sobbed full of despair. Only Dad could hope to console him, coaxing him out of the dark place he had locked himself in.

Both me and Papa agreed that we would honour Martha Hudson on the day of the funeral. Nana’s niece, Deidre, was her only living relative, and uncle Myc assured her that we would arrange everything if she weren’t able. From what Dad told me, she was relieved, having just started her tattoo studio, and she was quite short of money after the investments. 

***

Leaving uncle Myc and his minions in charge of the ceremony, proved to be ingenious, as we all expected. Even Nana would’ve been pleased with him, I think.

It all took place at Pembroke Lodge in Richmond Park. The Grade II listed Georgian Mansion is a beautiful and tranquil place, posh, but not over the top. 

The pleasantly warm weather allowed us to go dressed without jackets and coats. To honour Nana, all of us wore something purple, her favourite colour. Even uncle Myc acquiesced to leave his black suit at home, and instead he wore a light grey three-piece-suit with a deep purple tie.

Deidre showed up with purple nail polish, her black hair in spikes, the dramatic makeup intact, purple leather trousers, and a matching jacket with a black shirt underneath. Her Doc Martens boots were bright red. She was over the moon about the venue and to what lengths we’d gone to ensure a proper farewell for her aunt.

***

We didn’t know all the mourners, but I think I spotted a few celebrities who wore gigantic sunglasses and hats to hide their identities, which obviously had the opposite effect. 

Ginny, who conducted the ceremony was a calming presence throughout, and informed the congregation that there would be one speech apart from her own, and musical elements performed by a pianist and Papa on violin.

Papa held it together through his potpourri of Nana’s favourite classical pieces. He had his eyes closed and lost himself in the music. It was heartbreakingly beautiful. Beside me Dad clasped my hand firmly and never took his eyes off Papa. Admiration, love, sorrow and grief washed over his face in quick succession. He rose when Papa lowered his bow and looked over at the coffin that was decorated with purple lilacs. I saw the moment his knees gave way, but Dad was already at his side holding him close whispering something in his ear. I went over to them to pry the violin and bow out of Papa’s limp hands and let him lean into Dad’s arms.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Dad murmured teary-eyed.

Papa’s sobbing was muffled by his face being buried in Dad’s neck. Dad’s hand cradled the back of Papa’s head like it was a delicate object made of china. Slowly, Dad led Papa back to his seat and he held him tight until it was my turn to honour my beloved Nana.

The night I decided how to do it, Dad and Papa asked if I was sure I would manage it on my own. I retorted that of course I would. I was not a child anymore. What I hadn't considered was that reading a poem out loud in my room was completely different than performing it in front of a crowd, not to mention the emotional impact this performance would have on me.

I got to my feet when Ginny gave the signal and walked over to stand beside the coffin and opened the book on the correct page. Dad and Papa noticed before I did. Something gave me away. Did the book tremble in my hands, did my legs quiver, or did my breathing start to go wild with panic? Whatever it was, they both stood, came over to me, embraced me with their backs to the onlookers to shield me.

“Are you sure you want to go through with this, Bee?” Papa asked with a thick voice filled to the brim with withheld tears.

“You don’t have to, you know. Nobody would…” 

I cut Dad off abruptly feeling the soothing effect the closeness of my parents had on me.

“I’m sure. Stay, will you?” I said quietly.

“Of course,” they retorted in unison.

***

I took a deep breath, let go of my parents and we all turned to the other mourners and I started to read with one father on each side, radiating comfort and love.

Warning

When I am an old woman, I shall wear purple  With a red hat which doesn’t go and doesn’t suit me.  And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves  And satin sandals, and say we’ve no money for butter.  I shall sit down on the pavement when I’m tired  And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells  And run my stick along the public railings  And make up for the sobriety of my youth.  I shall go out in my slippers in the rain  And pick flowers in other people’s gardens  And learn to spit.  You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat  And eat three pounds of sausages at a go  Or only bread and pickle for a week  And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.  But now we must have clothes that keep us dry  And pay our rent and not swear in the street  And set a good example for the children.  We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.  But maybe I ought to practice a little now?  So, people who know me are not too shocked and surprised  When suddenly I am old and start to wear purple.

Today, I will nudge you in the direction of AO3 and the end notes to give you some context

@calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @helloliriels @raina-at

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[wannab-urs]

Outtakes - Long ass fics

AO3 | Kofi | Main Masterlist | The Spreadsheet Masterlist

Howdy folks!

Here's a list of fics I've read that are either over 100k words or have 20+ chapters.

Summaries and tags are, in most cases, provided by the author - please be sure to read them as some of these fics may have content you do not wish to read.

Pedro boys currently included are: Din Djarin, Frankie Morales, Javier Peña, Joel Miller, Dave York, Dieter Bravo, Oberyn Martell, Jack Daniels, and Pedro Across the Street + a Din x Joel fic (no reader insert)

updated 7/22/2024

Din Djarin

Starlight by LovelessDagger | 300k

Summary: Nothing ever truly dies. Not the Empire, not the dark, not her. The Mandalorian should know this, and somewhere deep down he does. Whether he cares is a different story. Consequences and the whole of them be damned.

Tags: Assassins & Hitmen, Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, Blood and Violence, Explicit Language. Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Morally Ambiguous Character, OFC, Trauma, Found Family, Betrayal, Secrets, Touch-Starved Din Djarin, Filled with existential dread, Sexual Tension, Heavy symbolism, two idiots with family issues form a family, Past Child Abuse, Mutual Pining, Angst, Eventual Smut, Clones, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Sith, Imperial Inquisitors, Secret Past, No one tells the truth, Metaphorical Addiction

I Only See Daylight by @millersdjarin | 141.6k

Summary: You’ve stayed in one place all this time, knowing that any move to leave could lead them to find you. When a Mandalorian and his child crash land on your home planet, you can't turn them away for help.

Tags: Smut, slow burn, post-canon, trauma, past emotional/physical abuse, relgious trauma, scars, negative self-image, found family, injury, heavy angst, fluff and love

A Fresh Start by @theidiotwhowritesthings | 140k

Summary: When you made plans for your future they never involved being hired by a Mandalorian to baby-sit his adorable, green gremlin of a child. However, after your life fell apart in the span of one disastrous night, you found it to be the only feasible option you had left. Nevarro was a far cry from Coruscant, but the thriving community turned out to be exactly what you needed. Every day you spend in Nevarro you fall more and more in love with your new life, but when your past rears its ugly head you find that perhaps peace wasn’t meant for everyone.

Tags: use of fake name, reader is hiding from a shady past, depressive symptoms, jealousy, pining, angst, hurt/comfort, medical trauma, nightmares, blood, injury, traumatic past, scars, slow burn, shooting training, sick child, fear and panic, canon typical violence, blackmailing, anxiety, self doubt, sexual tension, heavy petting, panic attack, male masturbation, arguing, mentions of alcohol and a bit of binge drinking, angst, people getting drunk, non descriptive torture, murder, fluff, mentions of death, non consensual groping of reader by a stranger, smut, oral f receiving

Stitches by @djarinsbeskar | 190k

Summary: What is a former combat medic to do when an injured Mandalorian stumbles upon her clinic one night on Klatooine?

Tags: Smut, action, fluff, angst, canon-typical violence

Beskar Doll by @justagalwhowrites | 232.4k

Summary: You have a knack for finding trouble, be it in the midst of Galactic Civil War or when trying to live the quiet life after getting out of the game. So when you're stuck fleeing your new home planet after pissing off the wrong people - again - there's only one person willing to take you: the Mandalorian. But after years of fighting faceless men, you're not the trusting type toward someone always wearing a helmet and the Mandalorian quickly suspects there's more to you than he knows.

Tags: Slow Burn, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Canon-Typical Violence, Pre-Canon, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Dry Humping, Torture, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Mando'a Language (Star Wars), Protective Din Djarin, Touch-Starved Din Djarin, Din Djarin Removes the Helmet, Past Domestic Violence, Brat Tamer Din Djarin, Vaginal Fingering, Soft Din Djarin, POV Din Djarin, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Angst, Mandalorian Culture (Star Wars), Mutual Masturbation, Masturbation, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, PIV, Unsafe Sex, Consent King Din Djarin, Din Djarin's Helmet Stays on During Sex, Vaginal Sex, Din Djarin talks you through it, Making Love, Pregnancy

Best Kept Secret by @lincolndjarin | 188k

Summary: Married off to a prince on a planet that you hate? New husband doesn't know you, and doesn't want to know you? New husband gifts you a personal Mandalorian body guard as a wedding present? Mandalorian is a wiseass who won't leave you alone? Lucky you.

Tags: no y/n, Enemies to Lovers, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Canon-Typical Violence, Princess!Reader, Arranged Marriage, bodyguard!din, Smut, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Eventual Happy Ending, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Glove Kink, Light Dom/sub, Switch Din Djarin, Switch Reader, Body Worship, Din Djarin Has a Breeding Kink, Hate Sex, Creampie, Sex Toys, Anal Play, Overstimulation, Multiple Orgasms, eventual pregnancy (right at the end)

Be-All and Endor by @djarins-cyare | 400k

Summary: Languishing in a dull and lonely existence on the forest moon of Endor after travelling there to help salvage Death Star wreckage, a nearly fatal encounter with a mysterious bounty hunter out in the forest heralds an opportunity to utilise long-forgotten skills and develop something more profound than you ever thought possible.

Tags: Slow Burn, Slow Build, Romance, Love, Sexual Tension, Eventual Smut, Smut, Sex, Sexual Content, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Relationships, Healthy Relationships, Canon-Typical Violence, Blood and Injury, Dark Past, Additional Warnings In Author's Notes, Bounty Hunter Din Djarin, Soft Din Djarin, Touch-Starved Din Djarin, Din Djarin Needs a Hug, Smart Din Djarin, Soft Dominant Din Djarin, Ewok Species, Mandalorian Culture, Mando'a Language, New Razor Crest, Thoroughly Researched, Worldbuilding, No use of y/n.

A Place of Safety by The_InvisibleWoman (AO3) | 178k

Summary: Persuaded into picking up one last quarry on his way home, an exhausted Mandalorian is in no mood for you, but he slowly begins to think that things are not as they should be. You’ve been on the run for so long and you don’t even know who from, but when you are captured by the bounty hunter, you think it’s all over.

Tags: Smut, slow burn, protective!Din, touch starvation, Din Djarin's point of view, fluff, angst, mutual pining, enemies to friends to lovers, rescue, falling in love, flirting, close proximity, gentle kissing, gentle sex, cuddling, threats of sexual assault, attempted sexual assault, self harm, tickling, noncon

Wrest Pin by BalletOrchard (AO3) | 366k

Summary: “I can help you escape the planet,” Mando said sharply, “But I want information in return.” She looked up at him through the small hairs on her face and she whispered, sounding almost lost…As if she didn’t know what else to say… “I have no information.” Something Mando did not believe.

Tags: panic attacks, force sensitive!reader, unprotected PinV sex, smut, mando is a dick, angst, slow burn (romantically), touch starved!din, bickering, arguing, post season 1, fluff, ofc!evangeline, she like doesn’t get off the first time they fuck which i feel like is worth noting, feelings of regret, minor character death (evangeline’s whole fam), follows canon, mando lowkey keeping evangeline against her will but like she’s hiding from the empire so, near death experience(s), the helmet comes off, oral f receiving, blindfolding, shower sex

Somewhere Beautiful by @peetiespetals | 235k

Summary: You have been working as a slave since the demise of your people and destruction of your planet. A stranger passes through your life and you make a bid for freedom, thwarted by the very man who inspired you to reach for it. In a twist of fate, the two of you are thrown together and must learn how to live with each other as the lines between slave and master begin to blur. Can you really tell the difference between duty and devtion?

Tags: smut, fluff and smut, angst, rough sex, bdsm, abandonment, neglect, physical abuse, love stories, shower sex, mutual masturbation, dom/sub undertones, oral sex, shameless smut, praise kink, bondage, biting, slow burn, spanking, orgasm control, orgasm delay/denial, cock warming, master/slave, vaginal fingering, deep throating, breast worship, pussy spanking, ball play, public creampie, edging, anal sex, foot jobs, handcuffs, cock bondage, panties in mouth, aftercare, jealous din djarin, hurt/comfort, overstimulation, strong female characters, hurt no comfort, porn with plot, sexual tension, porn with feelings, canon typical violence, slow romance, fluff and angst, anxiety, manhandling, pov second person, vaginal sex, nipple play, dirty talk, hair pulling

I Think of You by @prolix-yuy | 107k

Summary: A Mandalorian and a woman spend a night together, neither expecting the other to return. But the galaxy works in mysterious ways and many years later, despite a mission and a Creed and the cruelty of their lives, they find each other again and begin a journey of their own.

Tags: graphic smut, drinking, smoking, dirty talk, The Helmet Stays On, safe PiV sex, drinking, suggestive language, canonical-typical violence. mentions of past sexual experiences, angst and yearning, female masturbation, grinding, descriptions of male and female bodies, illness (not graphic), fingering (f receiving), male masturbation, sexy massage, hand kink, mutual masturbation, fingers in mouths, semi-unprotected PiV sex, descriptions of injuries, blood, and medical-ish procedures, allusions to sexual acts, hurt/comfort

Tied by @radiowallet | 26 chapters

Summary: Dr. Din Djarin is the top cardiothoracic surgeon in his field. His work is meticulous, his judgment unquestionable. And then he get’s a new first assist, who couldn’t give two shits about anyone’s reputation.

Tags: Smut, Cursing, Graphic violence, some questionable power dynamics.

Take Me to Church by @frannyzooey | 31 chapters

Summary: Set in a brothel in the late 1800’s in the Wild West, you’ve only been working there for a month when Din Djarin shows up. A bounty hunter who makes stops into town between jobs, he is known at the inn for his generous appetite and demanding preferences. Asking for you one night, he is pleased to learn you are well suited for him: your sweet nature soothing to his gruff temperament and surprising him with your ability to handle his rougher tastes. Demanding that you be made available to him every time he is in town, neither one of you is ready for where this request leads.

Tags: MFF, oral sex (female/male receiving), vaginal sex, dirty talk, mentions of murder, rope play, mutual masturbation, idk man lots of smut

Losing My Religion by @oonajaeadira | 108k

Summary: A Mandalorian comes looking for you with an assignment from an old friend, sending you on a mission and a union that you both need.

Tags: Smut, canon-typical violence, post-season two canon, reader is force sensitive, alternating point of view, angst, fluff, yearning, mind control, injuries, mourning a lost spouse, alcohol, feelings of betrayal, touch starvation, implied masturbation, kissing, bounty hunter kink, grinding and fingering, Mando'a language

A Shade That's New by FallenFern (AO3) | 111k

Summary: After Mando and Grogu part he goes back to bounty hunting. But its not enough. Desperate to feel again Mando accepts a more dangerous line of work. He joins your small crew on a new job, putting you in close proximity wether you like it or not. Wary of anyone, especially Mandalorians, you try to keep him at arms length. After all, anyone and everyone could be an enemy and you were going to treat him like one.Yeah, thats lasts long…

Tags: OFC!Shade, described as smaller than Mando, curly or wavy hair, able bodied, can blush/flush, Alternating 2nd Person POV. Smut, making shit up, not canon, after grogu and AU, emotional pain, plot with porn, enemies to lovers, slow burn, trauma, sexual tension, action and romance, blood and injury, blood kink, the helmet stays on, but it also comes off, blindfold, light bondage, sexual assualt, threats of rape (not by Mando), praise kink, begging, semi public sex, blaster kink, cock warming, daddy mando, oral sex (f and m receiving), smut marathon, I’ll kill anyone that touches you trope, demanding mando, comfort sex, minor character death, betrayal, mando to the rescue, revenge, reunion sex, say my name trope, edge play, rough sex, throat grabbing but not exactly choking

Scars and All by plaidamoosette (AO3) | 123k

Summary: Hidden away in the desert land of Jakku, you are slowly chipping away at the debt that you and your mother had accumulated following the death of your father to the horrible Denga Niima. But, after the recent passing of your mother, the debt has fallen on your shoulders. Using your skills as a mechanical engineer, you accumulate wealth for your slave master in the hopes that one day you will be free. Free to explore and live as your parents had always wished for you. But things change when you meet a certain bounty hunter when he comes to you to repair his ship. But, nothing is as it seems, and as the lies that were built around your life begin to crumble, you find yourself sucked into a journey of truth, betrayal, and... love.

Tags: Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Canon-Typical Violence, Angst, Drama, Deceased Parents, Indentured Servitude, Soft Din Djarin, Soft Dominant Din Djarin, POV Alternating, Din Djarin Removes the Helmet, Protective Din Djarin, Intimidation, Male Masturbation, Touch-Starved, Loss of Virginity, MC doesn't know how to take care of herself, Female Masturbation, Burried Trauma, Readers knows how to fight back, Mandalorians (Star Wars), Mandalorian Culture & Customs (Star Wars), Some Canon material, A whole lot of other made up stuff

Back to You by @kyberblade | 231k

Summary: You’ve been friends with Mando for years, and he drops by your hole in the wall bar from time to time to catch up. This time, however, he’s carrying an extra little green passenger with him. They are on the run, which is unsettling because Mando doesn’t run from things. Things run from him. A tracking fob, a dead body, and a confession later, all three of you set out to help the child find it’s kind. (Aka: a really typical Din x Force Sensitive reader plot, but instead of the going from stiff scary Mando to friendly Mando it’s gonna kinda go the opposite way. Not in a bad way but she’s gonna finally get to see what exactly he was running from all those times he came back to see her.)

Tags: Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Angst, Humor, Friends to Lovers, Introspection, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Romantic Friendship, Emotions, Grogu | Baby Yoda Being a Little Shit, Din Djarin Needs a Hug, Protective Din Djarin, Good Parent Din Djarin, Soft Din Djarin, Force-Sensitive Reader, Feelings, Feelings Realization, Spicy thoughts, but no smut

Frankie Morales

Between the Raindrops by Jazzelsaur (AO3) | 148k

Summary: Two lives fall apart, then together. A journey told in parts and pieces. Frankie’s life is coming apart at the seams, when Ellie, a widow facing her own share of struggles, moves in next door. Together they find friendship, healing, and something more.

Tags: Widowed reader, divorced frankie, neighbors to friends to lovers, grief, mourning, angst, masturbation, pining, allusions to sex, eventual smut, slow burn, past drug use, alcohol, infertility, miscarriage mention, ptsd, handjobs, oral sex, smut, food, strained friendships, healing, allusions to verbal abuse, angst with a happy ending, idiots in lovedivorced!Frankie, widow!OC/reader, no one has kids, slow burn with great spicy scenes, smut! with plot

Sex Worker!Frankie AU by @prolix-yuy | 21 chapters

Summary: You’d never thought you’d be sitting on a hotel room bed, phone to your ear as you waited for someone on the other end to pick up. After a messy divorce you wanted something to ease the pain of loneliness. That something just happens to be the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen, even if you had to pay for him.

Tags: Sex Worker!Frankie, implied other Triple Frontier Boys!Sex Workers, watch me make up shit about sex work, descriptions of male and female bodies, oral sex (F receiving), like super descriptive oral (there might be over 2500 words dedicated to Frankie’s talents), female masturbation, fingering (f receiving), safe PiV sex, a touch of Feral Frankie, one ass slap, fingers in mouths, some angst and feelings sprinkled in there for flavor.

Frankie Morales Box Set by @frannyzooey | 20 chapters

Summary: A series of one shots in which Frankie Morales shows you just how much he likes movie night.

Tags: oral, PIV, cum eating, hand job, cockwarming, mutual masturbation, dirty talk, thigh riding, dry humping, lots of other shit

Javier Peña

Lie to Me by @iamskyereads | 151.8k

Summary: A recent transfer to the DEA from the FBI makes you a target of hazing from your co-workers. Choosing to forget your bad first day at a bar puts you on a path towards meeting a new acquaintance. An expert on deception and psychological profiling, you are adept at catching liars. What happens when an increasingly stressful work environment begins to test the limits of your personal life and the one man at the center of it all, Javier Peña? Afterall, everybody lies about something. But how many are you keeping from yourself?

Tags: An AU of Season 3 of Narcos.Language, Alcohol/Drinking, Smoking, POV Switches, assholery, office pranks/hazing, hatin on the FBI and the DEA too, but we all hate on the CIA the most, Praise Kink, Dirty Talk, thigh grinding, PIV sex, soft Javi, Pining, Sexual Frustration, Use of A Sex Toy, Edging, Oral Sex, Canon-Typical Violence, Guns, police raids, Parallel plots to the show, Smut, sloppy blowjobs, Shower Sex, Social Anxiety, Nightmares, Rough Sex, spitting, Semi-Public Sex, Office Sex, Love in an Elevator, death of background characters, kidnapping of background characters, Shootouts, Masturbation, Breeding Kink, discussions of fertility, kink negotiations, Spanking, Brat behavior, Mild D/s vibes, Creampie, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Sex in a Church, Unprotected Sex, TacVest!Javi, Orgasm Denial, Angst with a Happy Ending, Period-Typical Sexism, Hospital, scar, accident of background characters, historical classism/sexism/racism, Grief/Mourning, Body Insecurities, Cockwarming, threats of kidnapping reader, light teasing, Flirting

Learning to Live by @wheresarizona | 382k

Summary: While grocery shopping, you happen across a handsome man confused by some produce. Coming to his aid leads to an invitation for drinks, and next thing you know, you’re falling head over heels for Javier Peña—a good man who has trouble believing he is. Sparks fly when you meet and ignite an insatiable need that you both try to fight for the sake of taking things slow; Javi determined to do things right by you. The problem is, the two of you only have so much self-control.

Tags: Post-Colombia and Narcos S3, Story Starts in June 1998.POV Alternating, Soft Javier Peña, Meet-Cute, First Dates, Javier Peña Needs a Hug, Whirlwind Romance, Javier Getting the Love and Happiness He Deserves, Javier Is Stubborn At First, Javier Peña in Love, Javier Being a Consent King, Multiple Orgasms, Vaginal Fingering, Dirty Talk, Praise Kink, Hand Jobs, Come Eating, Phone Sex, Mutual Masturbation, Vaginal Sex, Creampie, Cunnilingus, Blow Jobs, Edgeplay, Body Worship, Shower Sex, Biting Javis Butt, Deepthroating, Biting, Javier Coming So Hard His Soul Leaves His Body, Spanking, Car Sex, Dry Humping, Public Thigh Riding, Face-Sitting, Dirty Dancing, Post-Sex Smoking, Aftercare, Feelings, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Slow Dancing, Protective Javier Peña, Jealous Javier Peña, Getting Tipsy With Javier, Javier In Grey Sweatpants, Alcohol, Small Towns, Food, Road Trips, Post-Canon, Face-Fucking, Breeding, Rimming, Anal Play, Romantic Comedy, Cockwarming, Grief/Mourning, past relationship trauma, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Horseback Riding, Love Confessions, Miscommunication, Arguing, Angst with a Happy Ending, Period-Typical Sexism, Canon Typical Drug Talk, Nude Photos, Overstimulation, Dysfunctional Family

Just Dumb Enough to Try by @whatsnewalycat | 108k

Summary: In 1993, you met Javier Peña in San Antonio. You made an emotional and physical connection with him. Now it’s 1998 and you’re starting a new chapter of life in Laredo with your fiancé. And who else walks back into the picture, but the man who left you high and dry five years ago.

Tags: alcohol use, Binge Drinking, Swearing, Recreational Drug Use, Cigarettes, Voyeurism, Smut, Bisexual main character, Touch-Starved, Female Masturbation, Vaginal Sex, Unprotected Sex, Dirty Talk, Teasing, Flirting, Mutual Pining, Cheating, Infidelity, Sexual Tension, Attempt at Humor, Soft Javier Peña, Movie Nerd Shit, use of daddy in a sexual context, Vulnerable Javier Peña, Angst and Feels, Family Issues, Mostly Post Season 3, Existential Crisis, Banter, Mental Health Issues, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, friends to lovers to friends to lovers, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fluff and Humor, Oral Sex, Slow Burn, No beta idk I just got here, Fluff and Smut, Not Canon Compliant, Impact Play, Pain Kink, Domestic Violence, Praise Kink, Unplanned Pregnancy, Breeding Kink, Blood and Violence, Mild Gore, Kidnapping

Joel Miller

Feelings on Fire by @joelscruff | 110k

Summary: Back from school for the summer and staying with your devout Catholic parents, you ask Joel Miller to teach you guitar as an act of rebellion. Turns out, there's a lot more that he wants to teach you too...

Tags: Smut, age gap (reader is in her 20s, Joel is in his mid 50s), inexperienced/virgin reader, loss of virginity, corruption, mentions of religion/Catholicism, praise kink, pet names (babygirl, sweetheart, darling), dirty talk, masturbation, unprotected penetrative vaginal sex, creampies, cumplay, oral sex (female and male receiving), exhibitionism, size kink

Lavender by @justagalwhowrites | 253k

Summary: You're a college student in Austin, Texas, who gets a summer job nannying Sarah Miller. It's not long before her dad sees you as more than a babysitter - or more than a friend. But life - and an apocalypse - have other plans.

Tags: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Pre-Canon, Friends to Lovers, Protective Joel, Parent Joel, Joel is Bad at Feelings, Soft Joel, Fluff and Smut, Fluff, Angst, Smut, Vaginal Sex, Oral Sex, Loss of Virginity, Miscarriage, Sexual Coercion

Closer by @beardedjoel | 193k

Summary: you are staying with your parents, helping them move into their new house in austin. what happens when joel miller, the attractive neighbor you've been eyeing obsessively starts to show you some much wanted attention?

Tags: smut, age difference (joel is 42 and reader is 25), porn with some plot, inexperienced reader, soft!dom joel, boyfriend! joel, possessive! joel, mutual masturbation, rough sex, spanking, creampie, unprotected piv, oral (m + f receiving), dirty talk, overstimulation kink, praise kink, so many pet names it’s not even funny, consensual somnophilia, cockwarming

Yearling by @justagalwhowrites | 186k (as of ch 27)

Summary: After years of surviving in the wilds of Wyoming after the cordyceps outbreak, you find yourself in Jackson. It's a town filled with friendly faces and the kind of world you hardly remember, let alone can connect with or understand. But one man - Joel Miller, another loner, like you - makes you think that trying to find your place in society again might be worth it.

Tags: Slow Burn, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Joel, Parent Joel, Angst, Soft Joel, Smut, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Past Sexual Abuse, Friends to Lovers

Hot and Heavy by @tieronecrush | 130k

Summary: Over the course of three summers, Joel Miller has become woven into the fabric of your life. You nanny his daughter, sneaking around in an illicit love affair. You keep coming home, and he keeps coming back to you. The last summer, you're home with no plans of leaving—and Joel seeks you out again. What chances do you have?

Tags: Neighbor!Joel, age gap, canon-divergence, no outbreak, alcohol consumption, mentions of food, pet names (sweetheart), familial and self pressure, reader is in college, nanny!reader, smut

Dave York

Notes on Tutoring by @honestly-shite | 189.9k

Summary: Mr. York becomes your new classical guitar tutor in your final year at music college. A dark, mysterious man, you struggle to get a read on him but that doesn’t stop you from finding many ways to push his buttons.

Tags: Smut, alternate universe, music college, age gap, teacher/student relationship, slow burn, PiV sex, power dynamics, angst, pining, alcohol and drinking

Dieter Bravo

Recovery Road by @chronically-ghosted | 108k

Summary: Dieter Bravo is on his last chance. Six months out of a two year stint in rehab, his marriage on the rocks, and his starlight fading, he reunites with an old director friend on a project that might save his career and his personal life in a single go. Enter Natalie Lorraine, his new enigmatic co-star. Together, they go on to lead a film that comes to define a generation – and are both mysteriously absent the night the film receives an Oscar for Best Picture. Their reasons for missing such a landmark event are their own.

Tags: Smut, age gap (Dieter is 35, reader is 22), drug usage, alcohol, smoking, infidelity, discussions of addiction and withdrawal, toxic relationships, masturbation, pining, angst, anxiety and anxiety attacks, mental illness, bad coping mechanisms, named reader, descriptions of reader's hair, bi!Dieter

Psychomanteum by @whatsnewalycat | 132.7k

Summary: You’ve recently taken on the customer-facing responsibilities of the small-scale cannabis bakery you and your late husband ran out of your apartment, which introduces you to occasional customer, Dieter Bravo. A friendship is sparked when you realize you have something in common: you’ve both died. What Dieter doesn’t tell you about his near-death experience, though, is that it foretold his life with you.

Tags: Smut (including - alternating power dynamics, consensual unprotected sex, penetrative vaginal sex, oral sex, anal sex), gried, alternating point of view, physical descriptions of OFC (including - tattoos, scars, being lifted by Dieter), drug use (including - smoking cannabis and consuming edibles, dropping acid, drinking alcohol, cocaine and morphine use), substance abuse, addiction, fame & paparazzi, canon divergent, suicidal thoughts and planning, divorce, near-death experiences, Bi4Bi romance, supernatural elements, ghosts and psychomanteums, spirituality, drag performance, long-distance relationship, friends to lovers dynamic, OFC is infertile, familial and relationship trauma - please refer to chapters for all warnings.

For the Love of Horror by @coulsons-fullmetal-cellist | 80 chapters

Summary: Dieter meets and falls in love with someone who absolutely loves horror films. The problem is, he's a big scaredy cat!

Tags: loose fit series, series of one shots and drabbles, tags on each chapter

Oberyn Martell

In Name Only by @forever-rogue | 21 chapters

Summary: Reader, the only daughter of late Lord and Lady Beesbury, is sent off to be married to Prince Oberyn Martell. After having been parted from her first love by her horrid mother, she refuses to marry a man she does not know or love and be pushed into a life of misery. But after threat of being cut off from everything she knew and loved, she finds herself leaving her home in Honeyholt and arriving in Sunspear, married to the Prince. Being the charming and kind Prince he is, Oberyn promises her that it does not have to be a true marriage, it can be a marriage in name only. Little does the newly anointed Lady Martell know, that being married to the Prince is so much more than she bargained for.

Tags: Smut, language, fluff, kissing, period-typical misogyny, angst, sensual touching, mentions of violence and injury, discussions of pregnancy, mentions of death

Jack "Whiskey" Daniels

Down the Rabbit-Hole by @absurdthirst, @wardenparker | 208k

Summary: When Jack accidentally shoots a civilian on a mission he takes on not only the guilt of the man’s death, but inherits his soulmate as well. To you, it’s a dream job with more perks than you can imagine - but for Jack it’s a nightmarish complication. Even more so when he starts to develop feelings.

Tags: mentions of deceased spouse, a lot of food and alcohol consumption, family recipes, age gap, cursing, Canon typical violence, Death, gun use, angst, Jack has a temper and Tequila has a dumb first name, Making Out, a bit of groping, heavy flirting, sexy shower time, a whole truck load of anger, Fisticuffs, a bunch of angry people being upset with each other, Kidnapping, Torture, burning victim with cigarettes, Broken Bones, a whole lot of gun pointing and talk about murder, medicine by injection, oral sex (f and m receiving), Outdoor Sex, Public Sex, Unprotected Sex, Vaginal Sex, Cream Pie, Cum Play, Anxiety, Accidental Hurt, panic attack (symptoms based on my own personal experiences), intrusive/racing thoughts, physical symptoms of anxiety, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Guilt, Possible Unwanted Pregnancy, Lies, Nausea/Illness, Talk of Abortion, canon typical injuries, Family Planning, Mentions of Sex Toys, Lingerie, Spanking, rough sex, Flirty and somewhat explicit banter, Pregnancy, Discussion of symptoms, Mood Swings, cemetery/deceased loved ones, speaking to deceased loved ones

Pedro Across The Street (Calls)

Good. Things. Take. Time. by @oonajaeadira | 22 chapters

Summary: PATS is a massage therapist with special services. Or so he claims. He gives you a three-hour session you’re both going to enjoy.

Tags: Explicit marathon wall to wall smut, masseuse!PATS, sex worker!PATS.

Din Djarin x Joel Miller

Cosmic Oddities by fromthewhales (AO3) | 106k

Summary: Turning a clan of two into a clan of four and asking the very important, albeit unhinged question: What if space dad and apocalypse dad were Weird About Each Other?

Tags: parental bonding, parallels, angst, everyone has issues, everyone needs a hug, touch starved din djarin, injuries, strangers to ??? to lovers, smashing the space western and the zombie western together like 2 ken dolls, trauma, crack-fic adjacent at times, hurt/comfort, soft not super explicit smut, self harm, found family, din djarin eventually removes the helmet, blindfold, long distance relationship, survivors guilt, angst with a happy ending, non sexual intimacy, it gets worse before it gets better, alcohol mention, game II canon divergent — but boy does it come close, canon typical violence, minor character death, major character injury, bi!din djarin, bi!joel miller

Various

The Infinity Cube by @littlemisspascal | 20 chapters

Summary: When you play with a strange cube, you’re transported out of your current reality with your boyfriend Marcus into brand new ones starring alternate versions of your boyfriend who look and act entirely different every time. With each encounter, you start to wonder if you’ll ever make it back to your real universe?

Tags: language, fluff, angst

[dearly-somber]

a…s…m…r | | m.jh

-> pairing. boyfriend!myung jaehyun x f!reader

-> genre. established relationship, (domestic) fluff

-> rating. 13+

-> w/c. 863

-> warnings. None!

-> a/n. Inspired by the Tingle Salon interview he did with Woonhak. I think they both have very calming voices 😪 PSA: this ended up not including anything about what this whole thing was inspired by (aka: the asmr) but oh well 🤷🏻‍♀️

-> bnd drabble, oneshot and series m.list!

-> started. May 28th, 2024 @ 22:29

-> fin. Mon., Jun. 10th, 2024 @ 23:41

-> edited. Thurs., Jun. 13th, 2024 @ 23:38

-> divider credit. @plutism

You and Jaehyun have, more than once, been told that your relationship is peak “black cat x golden retriever”. And honestly?

You wholeheartedly agree ((─‿─)).

You’d hated it at first—you don’t even remember why; maybe because you didn’t like people trying to box your relationship into a fixed dynamic, but nowadays you embrace it with open arms.

Really the only reason you don’t mind it is because Jaehyun’s started calling you “kitty” and, as much as you hate to admit it, you think it’s kinda cute. And also a little hot, but that’s a whole different thing. You just recently changed his contact name on your phone from “Loml💕” to “Puppy😻”, actually—mostly because you don’t have the guts to call him puppy out of your own mouth just yet…

…but that doesn’t mean you don’t think about it!

Anyway, that’s beside the point. The only reason you brought it up was to (very amaturely) segue into what you actually wanted to talk about via some strange, semi-related metaphor(?).

Imagine this: you’re planning on sleeping over at your boyfriend’s house Friday to Sunday (because school and work have been keeping you apart and you miss him); you arrive late Friday evening tired as fuck from a twelve hour shift and ready to pass the fuck out—but wait!—your sweetest Myungjae waited up for you the entire night and is coming to greet you before you’ve gotten your foot halfway through the door!

“Hey, kitty.” Jaehyun takes your duffle bag and drops it somewhere next to the shoe rack, pulling you into his chest with his arms around your shoulders.

You hum into his chest as your hands slide around his waist, closing your eyes and burying your nose in his shoulder (where you proceed to deeply and unabashedly inhale his natural smell mixed with the vanilla of his shower gel, letting out a satisfied sigh after which makes him snort). Your hands slide from his waist to the small of his back, your fingers naturally running over the muscles in his back.

“I missed you,” you mumble.

Jaehyun hums sympathetically, cupping your face and tilting your head back to look at you proper. You catch a glimpse of the soft smile on his face before he leans in and kisses you all over, your eyes fluttering shut at the loving onslaught. “Missed you too,” he says against your cheek, giving you one last peck on the lips before taking you by the hand to lead you to his room.

“How long have you been waiting?” you ask as he crawls into bed, letting out an old-man groan when he’s settled under the covers on his back.

“Not long,” he assures you noncommittally, patting his chest in invitation for you to join him, visibly eager to have you close.

“Let me change first,” you laugh, shaking your head at the overdramatic whine he lets out as you turn around to dig through his cupboard for something comfortable to wear.

“How was work?” he asks.

You groan, throwing your work shirt to the floor as you pull one of Jaehyun’s looser shirts over your head. “Don’t get me started on work,” you grumble, kicking off your slippers.

“Not good?”

“When is it ever,” you sigh, waving a dismissive hand when the fluffy grey sweatpants you pulled on at random starts slipping down your hips—you can’t be bothered to change into something that fits.

Finally turning around, you’re greeted once again by the highly inviting scene of your boyfriend patiently waiting for you to join him, bedsheets pooled around his hips.

You climb up the bed and into his warmth with a soft grin, throwing your leg over his waist and resting your hands above his shoulders. You hover over him as his hands gravitate to your hips, tenderly pulling your waistband a little higher up your stomach before focusing his eyes on your face.

You stare at him long enough for him to smile and raises his brow at you in that probing, flirtatious way he used to before you got together—it’s an expression you like to tease him for whenever you can (except you’re too tired to come up with anything good to say).

“What is it?” he asks, letting his fingers drum against your side while his eyes sparkle at you questioningly.

“Nothing,” you mumble. “Jus’ pretty.”

“Me?” he laughs.

You hum with a tired grin, leaning down to tuck your head under his chin while moving your hands to rest on top of his head. “Puppy.”

“Puppy?” he repeats, high-pitched and squeaky.

“Puppy,” you confirm, turning your head to place a loving kiss against his throat. “‘M tired now, Jae… can we talk in the morning?”

“S-sure, babe,” Jaehyun stumbles over his words (probably because he’s still stuck on the whole puppy thing) before he kisses the crown of your head, wrapping you up in his arms.

“Love you,” he whispers.

“Love you, too,” you whisper back, letting out a long, satisfied exhale and smiling into his neck as you immediately doze off to the sound of his heartbeat and the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

[tarotchariotpickyourcard]

Surprise small PAC

For some positivity today, please select one of the three following groups. Let your eyes draw naturally to one of the items in the picture, or your mind to stick on one, two or three.

Left to right, group one is a peacock badge. Group 2 is a woo-hoo badge. Group three is a symbol pendant.

___________________________

_____________________

Group one:

Affirmation: I am brave. Shows a picture of Leia from star wars.

I take action to define my role in the story. I rebel against expectations and forge my own path.

Affirmation: I am optimistic. Shows a picture of rose from star wars.

When everything seems lost, I never lose sight of what's really important. I always fight to save the things I love.

For some reason I see a need to express yourself in the way you look or dress. Take the leap if you've been contemplating a change. This could just be a metaphor though, in regards to being yourself despite expectations that are set upon you. This could be confirmation to never give yourself up, at least not in your heart, even if you have to pretend in front of a family member, or less crucial people. You are not lost just because you had to hide for a time. You are always there, and important even if no one tells you. Keep going so that you can express yourself, or do what's most important or what you love most. Never let anyone define you or tell you who you are, never believe them, not in your heart of hearts.

______________

Group two:

Activity: Don't look to others to give you the hope that you will succeed. That hope is already inside of you. Shows a picture of Leia in a later star wars film.

"Hope is like the sun. If you only believe in it when you see it, you'll never make it through the night."

Notice the number on the card is 22. You may be seeing repeating numbers as signs from spirit. Maybe this number is a birthday or age. This is likely to remind you that you have everything inside you already that you need. You don't need permission to do the things that are important to you, either. You may also not be getting reassurance from spirit in the way you might want regarding a desire or activity or goal. This isn't to say you wouldn't do well, or that it's not a good idea. It's more that you are the most important judge in your life, and faith in what you can't see is such a strength. Let it carry you. Your life is yours to lead, and your actions need to be what you're most happy with.

_________________

Group three:

Eat something new. What seems different or unusual to you right now might end up being your new favourite flavor. Shows a picture of jabba the hutt looking smug as ever.

This is probably a green light to give into a craving, or allow yourself a treat. Perhaps there has been a difficulty with diet, health or perception regarding food. Perhaps there is guilt, or perhaps someone here is a picky eater. You really never know until you try if something could be a new comfort food. Life includes enjoyment, let yourself enjoy.

_______________________

Hope you enjoyed 🌟

[foxes-that-run]

Wonderland

Wonderland is a song about a love that feels so enticing it draws her in against her judgment. Taylor uses Lewis Carroll's Wonderland as a metaphor for love with a famous person and they try to hold on the chaos that ensues from going public. Get a cup of tea, this is long. I feel the lyrics, meaning and context of this song are overlooked because Taylor had a friend who likes the classic novel.

22 March 2011 - Taylor visited an Alice and Wonderland themed store on Portobello Road, London. (2011 timeline)

25 October 2012 - Taylors Rolling Stone Article is titled "Taylor in Wonderland" and talks about her apartment.

Over 18 months of remodeling, Swift gave the condo a heavy dose of well-funded OCD whimsy. The ceiling is arranged in multiple motifs – billowing curtains here, a painted indigo night sky there. In one corner, under hanging crystalline stars, sits a giant bunny made of moss. He’s wearing a hat. “It’s a whole Peter Pan, Alice in Wonderland structure here,” she says, welcoming me the next morning. “It’s what the inside of my brain looks like, essentially.”

5 November 2012 - One Direction is on the cover of Wonderland Magazine holding puppies. The article talks about a book deal from a fanfic about Harry, death threats to girlfriends, abuse of their mothers, relationships breaking down due to abuse by fans and absolute ferver about them at that time. It includes the quotes:

"Anyone is welcome to stare into the eyes of Madness" and "The boys show a similar stubbornness when I suggest, perhaps, if they were a little less public about their girlfriends (boybands like Take That, for example, were always encouraged by management to be perennially single in public), then maybe their partners would not have to endure so much attention. “That’s shit,” says Louis. “That means you don’t lead a life that’s real. You wouldn’t be able to go out anywhere publicly with your girlfriend.”

2 December 2012 - a month after the article Harry and Taylor walked in Central Park. They had been on/off in private for months at that point and seemingly together for the last 4 months.

17 November 2014 - Taylor is on the cover of Wonderland Magazine, she talks about 1989 and Twitter Trolls.

In 2015 Taylor indicated that all the songs of romance songs on 1989 were about on person. While Taylor has never said who that person is songs like Style hint. Thank you @cntfightmydemonsthyknowhowtoswim for the shopping photo and timeline help! In her March 15 2013 vanity fair article (the one that said harry chased her for a year before they dated and also pointed mentions she was born in 1989) Taylor said:

Lyric Video

References the book, Harry's eye's and the 1D Wonderland article:

"Anyone is welcome to stare into the eyes of the madness."

Live Performances

Taylor has only performed it 6 times, each has a reason. When 1989 was release Harry’s IG went black and white and stayed that way for nearly 2 years. He posted a colour photo within a week of each Time this song was played.

May 15, 2015, Las Vegas Rock in Rio, first played. After performing Tenerife Sea with Ed Sheeran. This first performance was 2 days before the 2015 BBMAs when Taylor knew she would be seeing Harry. (Harry colour IG post)

May 20, 2015, Bossier City Louisiana (1989 Tour), on Harry and Taylors anniversary. It was followed by the Clean Speech she referred to the 2015 BBMAs 3 days earlier and 'where you should be' which Harry later referenced in Woman. (Harry colour IG post)

June 6, 2015, Pittsburgh (1989 Tour) - the day after the One Direction Hiatus story first broke. (Harry colour IG post).

June 20, 2015, Cologne, Germany (1989 Tour). Day of Taylors letter to Apple and 1989 not to be on Apple music. (Harry colour IG post)

September 29, 2018, Houston (Reputation Tour) - day after Haylor anniversary of Begin Again Paris weekend

April 21, 2023, Houston on (Eras Tour) Taylor introduced it and said it has a"twisted kind of Alice and Wonderland vibe" day before Peace Ring Anniversary

Original Lyrics

Along with 1989 TV Taylor released the original Wonderland Lyrics 27 October 2023. They are undated. I think it may have been started in 2011 when Taylor was in London and finished for 1989. The original Lyrics further indicate this song is about Harry:

"We danced down hallways, too in love to think straight" rather than" became "So, we went on our way / Too in love to think straight" Hallway's being common theme in Harry and Taylors songs about each other.

"Screaming you're the king and I'm the queen," rather than "All alone, or so it seemed." King/Queen is a common reference Taylor has used to indicate the muse is British. This is also on 1989 in Blank Space: "Stolen kisses, pretty lies, you’re the king, baby, I’m your queen"

"Colors I'd never seen twisting around me" became "I felt your arms twistin' around me." Colours are also a Haylor theme, on 1989 with OOTW: "The rest of the world was black and white / But we were in screaming color.”

"Didn't I tell you don't listen to them?" to "Didn't they tell us don't rush into things?" this reminds me of Slut! "I said it might blow up in your pretty face / I'm not saying do it anyway / But you're going to" because they went public and it did blow up.

"I turned around to find you and you were nowhere to be found / There was screaming and lightning / And I haven't been back since I had to leave you there..." became "I reached for you, but you were gone / I knew I had to go back home / You searched the world for somethin' else." this is similar to I Knew You Were Trouble: "And he’s long gone when he’s next to me", This Love: "And you were just gone and gone, gone and gone" and Blank Space: "Screaming, crying, perfect storms, I can make all the tables turn".

Lyrics

[Verse 1] Flashing lights And we took a wrong turn And we fell down a rabbit hole You held on tight to me 'Cause nothing's as it seems And spinning out of control

The first verse sets the scene of a relationship that is in the public eye and two people trying to hold onto their love in chaos. Specifically not a hidden relationship.

Flashing lights - It's easy to overlook how very out of control the fans and paparazzi were about Haylor and One Direction in 2011 - 2013. Having dated in secret for sometime when they did go public the focus was intense. When they dated again it was hidden, which is evident in both of their discographies.

I Know Places: Lights flash and we’ll run for the fences

Is It Over Now?: Flashing lights, oh Lord, let’s fast forward to three hundred takeout coffees later

Paris: Let the only flashing lights be the tower at midnight in my mind

One Directions Perfect "And if you like cameras flashing every time we go out oh yeah"

Fell down a Rabbit Hole is similar to IWYW "We're a crooked love in a straight line down"

Trying to hold onto each other in chaos is also in:

Run: "Say you’ll never let them tear us apart and I’ll hold onto you while we run"

New Years Day "You squeeze my hand three times in the back of the taxi"

Dancing with our hands tied "Oh, and you held me close Oh, how was I to know?"

The Archer: Help me hold on to you

Harry for One Direction Story of my Life "The way that I been holdin' on too tight"

Harry for One Direction Olivia "Don't let me go"

[Pre-Chorus] Didn't they tell us "Don't rush into things"? Didn't you flash your green eyes at me? Haven't you heard what becomes of curious minds? Ooh, didn't it all seem new and exciting? I felt your arms twistin' around me I should have slept with one eye open at night

The Pre-Chorus tells of a decision to go public with a previously private relationship. At the time Harry and One Direction were incessantly asked invasive questions about dating, which Harry was increasingly uncomfortable answering. Shortly before 1D provided a list of banned questions which was not well received.

Slut! implies that Harry had wanted to go public and Taylor cautioned against it " Taking your chance / It's a big mistake / I said it might blow up in your pretty face / I'm not saying do it anyway / But you're going to / And if they call me a slut / You know it might be worth it for once"

Harry's green eyes are mentioned in many songs.

[Chorus] We found Wonderland, you and I got lost in it And we pretended it could last forever (Eh, eh) We found Wonderland, you and I got lost in it And life was never worse, but never better (Eh, eh)

The Chorus encapsulates this relationship, one they are drawn to, see the peril in and proceed anyway because they love it. Taylor has other lyrics that refer to forever not coming true:

Wildest Dreams: Nothing lasts forever, but this is getting good now

Cowboy Like Me: Forever is the sweetest con

False God: We were crazy to think / Crazy to think that this could work / Remember how I said I'd die for you?

Pretending is also a theme, I think this about suspending judgement to stay in a Lavender Haze, or set aside concerns about the potential reputational damage or bullying caused by fans:

I Knew You Were Trouble: "Pretend he doesn’t know that he’s the reason why your drowning"

Wildest Dreams: "Say you’ll see me again even if it’s just pretend"

Delicate: "Sometimes when I look into your eyes, I pretend you’re mine all the damn time"

Death By A Thousand Cuts: "Chandelier’s still flickering here ‘cause I can’t pretend it’s okay when it’s not"

Paris: "Stumble down pretend alleyways, cheap wine, make believe it’s champagne"

[Post-Chorus] (Eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh) In Wonderland x3

The post chorus Eh's sound so similar to Rihanna's "Under my umbrella, ella, ella, eh, eh, eh" which is actually similar in theme, Umbrella is about a famous couple being there for each other, Wonderland is feeling like that didn't happen.

In the period One Direction was incessantly asked for a celebrity crush (while he was actually dating an exceptional famous dream girl) Harry often said Rihanna, if he answered. Rihanna was a safe choice, she wasn't single, she has spoken highly of Harry. Also she sat in front of him at the infamous 2013 VMAs.

[Verse 2] So, we went on our way Too in love to think straight All alone, or so it seemed But there were strangers watchin' And whispers turned to talkin' And talking turned to screams, oh

Fame and focus of people outside the relationship is a theme. I can't repeat enough how much this song is about a public relationship:

Dancing with our hands tied "People started talkin', puttin' us through our paces" and

I know places - "Somethin' happens when everybody finds out / See the vultures circling, dark clouds / Love's a fragile little flame, it could burn out / It could burn out" and "I can hear them whisper as we pass by, It's a bad sign, bad sign"

…Ready For It?: Touch me and you’ll never be alone

So It Goes…: But when you get me alone, it’s so simple

Harry for One Direction Where do Broken Hearts Go: "Mind is runnin' in circles of you and me / Anyone in-between is the enemy"

[Pre-Chorus] Didn't they tell us "Don't rush into things"? Didn't you flash your green eyes at me? Didn't you calm my fears with a Cheshire cat smile? Ooh, didn't it all seem new and exciting? I felt your arms twistin' around me It's all fun and games 'til somebody loses their mind But darling

The reference of a Cheshire Cat smile is a double meaning, both referring to Harry's smile and where he grew up, Cheshire, England. Lewis Carroll, author of Alice in Wonderland, was also born in Cheshire. Calm my fears similar to the line in NYD “squeeze my hand”

[Bridge] I reached for you, but you were gone I knew I had to go back home You searched the world for somethin' else To make you feel like what we had And in the end, in Wonderland, we both went mad Oh

The song ends on a sad note, Taylor realises the relationship is too much for her so she gives it up. Her muse can't replace her and they never get over it. From Slut! and Say Don't Go in the 1989 Vault Taylor wanted more assurance in the chaotic storm of them going public. From Harry's TBSL and Little Freak we can infer that he wasn't ready for it, 19 and too famous too quickly.

Reached for you but you were gone

Message In A Bottle: I’m reaching for you, terrified

I Knew You Were Trouble: And he’s long gone when he’s next to me

I Know Places: Just grab my hand and don’t ever drop it

New Romantics: Please take my hand and please take me dancing

Willow: I’m begging for you to take my hand, wreck my plans, that’s my man

Harry's As it was: I want you to hold out the palm of your hand / Why don't we leave it at that?

You searched the world for something else

Is it over now? "You search in every model's bed for somethin' greater, baby"

Harry's As it was: When everything gets in the way / Seems you cannot be replaced / And I'm the one who will stay, oh

We both went mad: the song ends on 'we both went mad' which is a double meaning of having lost themselves in this relationship and the Cheshire Cat saying "we're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad." in Alice in Wonderland. Madness is a theme in Harry and Taylors songs about each other:

Blank Space "Magic, madness, heaven, sin" and "They'll tell you I'm insane"

Say Don’t Go: "The waiting is a sadness fading into madness"

IDWLF "Baby, baby, I feel crazy Up all night, all night and every day"

Hit's Different "Or have they come to take me away? To take me away"

Harry for One Direction If I could Fly "I've been going out of my mind (I feel it I feel it) Know that I'm just wasting time"

Harry's Kiwi "She's driving me crazy, but I'm into it (Oh)

Wonderland also has a taymoji pack which refers to king of my heart, the rose/thorn Haylor theme.

[balladofthewhitehorse]

7, 14, 18, 22, 38 + d & g for Scotland, i love the way you write him :D (I know that’s so many I’m so sorry for being greedy don’t feel like you have to answer them all! <3)

Don’t apologise at all! I’m glad you love the way I write him. I took a lot of inspiration from your HCs as well as Stirringwinds, Oumaheroes and Fumblingmusings too! Thanks for sending in so many good asks >:)c I absolutely love talking to others about these characters. 7. What triggers nostalgia for them, most often? Do they enjoy that feeling?

Going fishing - a peaceful brisk morning for it too, with not a soul around to disturb him, on the banks of a sluggish river. It’s something he does every so often, and usually it gets him in a nostalgic mood. Things were easier once. Things were simple once, back when immortality was something that riveted Scotland’s spirit rather than left him brooding for hours on end. However, this puts Scotland into a miserable mood for the rest of the day - it’s frustrating, given that he genuinely enjoys fishing, but it reminds him too much of how easy it was to be a family - how easy it was to simply be able to view England, Wales and Ireland as his family without any of the politics and history to muddy it. Sure, he may be able to fish with England today - but the past hangs like a lantern, illuminating the darkest corners. 

It reminds him, too, of how easy it was to spend time with France - to kiss and hold them without being reminded of the contractual nature of their relationship, of the obligations and politics and the dreadful feeling that he was only ever stoking England’s fury and resentment towards France. It reminds him too, of their relationship with its ups and downs. Fishing is something of a gentle, peaceful past-time. It is one of his most mundane, most human moments and Scotland wishes, wishes with all his heart, that he could go back to being that young boy fishing by the river. 

14. What animal do they fear most?

I will approach this from a metaphorical angle first, and then put down some animals that he generally does not want to fuck around with in a literal sense. Sorry, I love animal symbolism too much not to approach it from a metaphorical sense - even though I think this question is intended rather literally; Firstly, Scotland is afraid of wolves and dogs - particularly big, black ones with white teeth and copper eyes. Collared ones are perfectly fine, Scotland loves a faithful pet, but the sight of a lone, shaggy dark stray is something that awakens an instinctual dread in him. Wolves too, set something primal and wary inside him - and reminds him all too much of his brother, red-eyed and hostile, barghest, black shuck, snarlyow…

He cannot help, but wonder if the plethora of black dogs south of the border are all England’s doing. After-all, humans talk and make stories and are fearful of the dark, and there is nobody quite like his brother who wears the night like a second coat. If Scotland considers himself a stag - noble, free and just - then England is the wolf, wily and furious. It is hard for Scotland to look into a wolf’s eyes for long - and he remembers hunting them down in the forests a long, long time ago and holding their skulls, their broad jaws in his hand and imagining that England was bleeding before him. Maybe that’s just daft of him, Scotland admits. But nevertheless…

Now in a more literal sense, because I think that’s the intention of the question: Scotland isn’t fearful of any animal. He’s wary of some, but Scotland is always quick to point out that caution is not cowardice - and he has quite a lot of disdain for those who are quick to mix up the two. Cows can flatten you if given the chance and while they’re usually docile, Scotland has seen far too many idiots get trampled by cows, and big cats are simply off the table - too stealthy, too agile and powerful. He doesn’t care for sharks either, and makes sure to avoid the sea. Can’t get him on dry land, can they now? All the same, Scotland is not fearful so much as wary most of the time.

18. What embarrasses them?

On a mundane level: Idiocy, Raised Voices, Being Emotional On a much more personal level, there is nothing that Scotland finds more embarrassing than when his siblings lose their wits or their temper. He’s someone who prides himself on being able to keep control of himself, of being level-headed and calm. He’s someone who’s always told himself that he needs to be in charge - needs to act like a leader while everyone else is freaking out. In that sense, one could argue Scotland is not unlike England (who harbours the need to be in control - but by contrast, England does it out of a sense of wariness, of paranoia while Scotland has a sense of duty). When he snaps or when he raises his voice - or perhaps makes a mistake - the embarrassment sticks with Scotland to the very end. It clings to him like ink to paper, like blood to carpet, like sins to a guilty conscience. Out, Damned Spot; Out, I say! - as Lady Macbeth once said. 

‘’You should just forgive him.’’ Scotland replied icily, jaw tense as he watched his sister pace the length of his sitting room - she was erratic, a little like a wasp, Scotland mused to himself. It had been unfair, that much Scotland understood, but then what else was new? ‘’I know him-’’ Wales whirled around, fury in her eyes (so much like her little brother). ‘’-He just…ah, fumbled his words?’’ He shrugged, feeling the tips of his ears going red - the same hue whenever his siblings argued, which was frequently. ‘’It’s not worth the embarrassment.’’ ‘’And what-’’ Wales spat. ‘’-is the embarrassment?’’ 

Scotland stared steadily back, taking a deep breath as he slowly rose to his feet. Wales was doing it again. Wales was twisting his words - and a feeling of frustration seeped into the core of his bones as he watched his sister cross her arms, tapping her foot expectantly. ‘’He will just blame you. And then you’ll get angry and then-’’ Scotland’s lip curled. ‘’-And then everyone loses their shit!’’ It always happened, and Scotland was always there to pick up the pieces (Why me? Why is it always me-!?) ‘’You wouldn’t understand, Wales, I’m just say-’’ ‘’You’re just saying to pick the easy way out, like a coward.’’ Wales scoffed, an icy veneer crossing her eyes as she jabbed a finger at Scotland. ‘’You’ve shoved yourself well up his arse, Scotland.’’

‘’I’m just being smart!’’ Scotland snapped. ‘’England will…will just use this as proof of your immaturity.’’ He sniffed, shaking his head as he leaned in towards Wales (Green eyes ran in the family, and they bore into his soul). ‘’Keep your cool and play your cards right. Just forgive him. It can be as empty or as meaningful as you want, just try not to fucking lose it.’’ Wales’ lips went thin, her back going rigid as she glared at Scotland. ‘’You don’t know how long I’ve been doing that. You fucking don’t know how long I’ve been doing that for already.’’ 

Scotland’s fists clenched. ‘’I do.’’ Whirlwinds of fire and clashing swords, Scotland took a deep breath (as if he were about to dive, to immerse himself in a cold sea - and never return). ‘’So pull yourself together, Wales. Suck it up.’’ Scotland winced as he said these words, face going pale as he watched his sister withdraw (coiled as a spring, wound up - he didn’t try to dodge, squeezing his eyes shut as Wales slammed the door shut). ‘’...Fuck.’’

22. How does jealousy manifest itself in them?

Deep-rooted and quietly seething, Scotland is the figure in the back of the room brooding angrily. Crossed-arms and stiff shoulders, features like stone, he is quiet and icy; A chilly lake in the darkest winter, contemplating what he wants and why he wants it, and most crucially how to get it. Really, Scotland does not think he’s being jealous - only protective, after-all it’s something that he has his sights on and that makes it his, no? Some people might consider England to be rather prickly and sharp - the most jealous out of the siblings, but where England spits fire - Scotland is ice. More specifically, the ice beneath your feet that is threatening to crack, echoing with promise - with threat, the water below to plunge you into his grasp. 

38. What memory do they revisit the most often? 

D. Have they always had the same physical appearance, or have you had to edit how they look?

I think I always kept Scotland’s design fairly consistent! When developing his character (I did this before I realised that Hetalia has a canon Scotland already, LOL!), I had a sort of typical body-shape and design in mind to go with his personality - and Scotland has always given me sort of rugged, outdoorsy vibes (stereotyping aside!) He’s always been broad-shouldered and strong, although I have recently started to toy with the concept of giving him some specific scarring or some leg issue, just because he’s been through a lot. For the most part, his design has been fairly consistent - with a few small changes (such as his height, originally I was going to make their heights consistent with the actual size of the country, so England would be taller than Scotland, but somewhere at some point, I changed my mind). 

G. What trait of theirs bothers you the most? Oooh, this is a good question. I think the trait that bothers me the most is - and I’m answering in terms of how easy it is to write - the fact I think Scotland can be quite self righteous. The issue is that I don’t know how to portray his self-righteousness - because he’s quite well within his rights usually, LOL! I guess I’m gonna try and consider how he can be a little cunning himself from time to time, but  I need to work on my Scottish history. Maybe some grave-robbing fic in the future, hmm? I always do think he’d be a bit of a surgeon back then and well…we all know about Burke and Hare, no? (but without the murder. Unless?)

[helioselene]

HELIOSELENE -> A WRITEBLR REINTRODUCTION;

your hunger bleeds into my skin seeping into my veins as if it's my life force;

psd credit; @cavalierfou

about me;

hi! im molly, 22, she/her. ive been on writeblr for a few years now but i figured its about time i throw myself back into the tumblr writing world !

when im not writing im a student specialising in human rights and global politics

if you ever want to yell about enemies to lovers (the best trope) im always here !!!

my favourite book is the song of achilles; however, im also quite partial to pride and prejudice, the picture of dorian gray and also the seven husbands of evelyn hugo :)

uhh im also a basketballer if that's cool hehe

main wips;

graces to the grave;

wip page (x) | wip tag (x) | pinterest board (x)

 Juliette allowed herself to breathe, to pretend that, even for just a moment, she wasn’t consumed by a legacy born in bloodshed. Victorian London is on the precipice of destruction. As civil war breaks out between the city’s most formidable gangs, Juliette Edevane finds herself with a daring mission: kill the leaders of the Bonellis and secure her position as heir to London’s underworld. But orchestrating the deaths of Ruth and Cassius Granville is not as simple as it may seem. 

Juliette is swept into a world of murder, magic, and marriage - where a wedding between her and a long-time rival may signify the line between success and failure in her mission. Armed with such an alliance, she must navigate the dangerous waters of a London built on the blood of gang rivalries, where betrayal and death hides around every corner. And yet, with her own heart on the line, she must confront where her true allegiances lie: with her gang, with her husband, or with those she once thought to be her greatest enemies.

the further we fall;

wip page (x) | pinterest board (x)

It was at that moment I realised just how much of a tragedy love could be. To have loved without hope or comfort, to be separated by a metaphorical chasm of social class and indignity. Love had only ever caused my slave-born mother to feel great heartache, to reach and yearn for something she would always, and forever, be but a fingertips breadth from.

Icarus is a boy made of fire and brimstone, destined to never live up to his father's legacy. Growing up in the Cretan palace was everything a commoner like him could ever dream of; but night after night he falls asleep listening to the sounds of poor Asterion in the Labyrinth, another son born from cruelty, who screams and hollers for the love of his parents.

When the opportunity to help Ariadne and Theseus to break into the Labyrinth arises, Icarus throws himself headfirst into the task. He vows to be something more, something better, and yet his own traitorous actions threaten to come to light.

All little Icarus wanted was his father's approval. But how can a gods-cursed boy like him ever be someone worthy of love?

backburners;

mermaid wip [high fantasy little mermaid x sleeping beauty]

elemental wip [high fantasy political intrigue]

redacted wip [co-written secret work in progress]

other links;

wip page (x)

mutuals page (x)

about me page (x)

asks (x)

find me;

writing twitter (x)

ao3 (x)

welcome to writeblr [as a mod] (x)

the writeblr garden [as a mod] (x)

ask for my discord

tagging;

@seasteading @sourrcandy @veneritia @mortallynuttyqueen @scaevolawrites @wordsbynathan @songbirdii @lasbrumas @moariin @serpentarii

any boosting (especially reblogs) is helpful! thank you so much :)

[blueiight]

idk if louis decided he was gonna ditch lestat, grace might've accepted him back although the freaky non-aging yeah by that point would've been an issue but i guess psychologically for louis with her around, there was still some hope that he could get out? but once she's gone its like that door is fully closed in his mind too

do recall tho that grace and louis never rly contact eachother after a certain point. louis is too into in his own vampy family, and likewise grace with her own family, even moreso w/ levi symbolically replacing louis as the Man of the House in ep3. the lines r drawn in the sand. once again idk if ur the same anon or not, i think yall being entirely too generous to grace here + assuming she'd just take back her brother who she hardly had that much interest in contacting outside of sending jonah his way + sending a note that maman died. when they did meet in ep4, grace+ levi were both disgusted. ur fine w/ ur white daddy in the quarter aint u lou like how she says.

this falls into the fan issue of seeing black female characters as ever generous empty vessels of servitude for black males/female charas of nonblack varieties w/ no interiority or capacity for any complex human emotion when no. thats not how grace is with louis. grace is convinced by ep4 id say + seals the belief in ep5 when she leaves that her older brother [metaphorically or literally] died somewhere along the way+ was replaced by an evil gay demon. this may sound hyperbolic, but she literally says ur not my louis and buries him. how else can u interpret that lol. she has a complex relationship with her brother that degrades throughout season 1, and in no way can i see canon show! grace being some unconditionally loving confidante to her battered gay brother, vampire or not. she made no indication of disapproving of paul being in the asylum, or disapproving of louis's illicit dealings, its only once louis diverges from being a provider for the dulacs, and comes by in the night/if at all, that grace starts to resent her brother. let black women be complex characters. and like one of my other anons said as i attached below

louis himself, is prideful as he is tormented.. even in the modern day, he does not self identify as a victim at the very least, for the purposes of daniel's writing + for reasons ive described time + time again, so what makes u think a 1920s-30s lou after being beat would go to his baby sister if she stayed in town somehow? like i said, being part of the historical great migration/s makes a lot of sense for grace + levi's characters. whether louis isnt paying out, or grace is refusing louis's money [lol u aint had no problem when big bro was a trick but now that white daddy pay the bills u aint touchin dat money? who knows]. outside of that theres very few opportunities for the freniere-dulacs, used to their former conditional opulence in the treme, in this here jim crow south outside of going up north. do recall that years before, louis hid the fact that papa du lac was boutta drive their family into destitution for years, even from his own mother, and especially from his younger sister. if we take the pilot draft describing grace as 22 or the books, this means grace is decently younger than show!louis. when he ran away from lestat in ep3 before finding claudia, he didnt go to the treme where his sister + then alive mother was, but to the old poor black neighborhoods, seeking absolution in an abstract sense for his self perceived wrongs, and bringing that redemption to lestat. to be turned, to live forever, to love him in a way his born family could not. eps 2-3 show that louis cannot go back to his born family anymore. something something ziska fill me up post here

[hiswordsarekisses]

"For Christ our Passover is sacrificed for us;

therefore let us keep the feast." (1 Cor. 5:7-8)

====

Some well-meaning Christians think that followers of Yeshua have no reason to do a Passover Seder as instructed in the Torah because, in light of the new covenant, all that is now needed is to remember Jesus’ crucifixion for our sins and to celebrate his resurrection by partaking in the sacraments. This viewpoint assumes that, despite the instructions in the Torah, the yearly Passover service, or seder, is not intended for Christians, since it focuses on the Exodus from Egypt and the Jewish people, and the message of the gospel is universal, for every "tongue and tribe." Moreover since Christians are no longer "under the law," they are not obligated to keep the ordinances of the "Old Testament," especially with regard its ceremonial laws.

There are some real difficulties when we disregard the Torah's instructions to observe the Passover, however, particularly because Yeshua himself identified his entire ministry as the “Lamb of God” who redeems us from the curse of the law, and he used the message of the Passover to teach his followers this truth. Bear in mind that the idea of the Passover was not enacted at Sinai as part of the Sinai covenant, but predates the giving of the law. In other words, the faithful of Israel obeyed God's instruction to take refuge under the blood of the sacrificed lamb to escape the plague of death delivered upon Egypt, but this was done before Moses ascended Sinai to receive and ratify the covenant of the law.

Indeed the theme and message of Passover is timeless for understanding the Bible. The message was delivered in the Garden of Eden when God sacrificed a lamb to cover the shame of Adam and Eve (Gen. 3:21); it was prefigured in the lamb that was sacrificed by Abraham in place of Isaac during the Akedah; it was portrayed in the blood of lamb sacrificed in Egypt whose blood was daubed upon the doorposts; it was memorialized every day and night at the Tabernacle (and later at the Temple) as "continual korban," the offering of which was central to the sacrificial ministrations for Israel; it was foretold by the Hebrew prophets (Isa. 9:6; Isa. 53; Psalm 22:16; Prov. 30:4; Zech. 12:10. etc.), and it was fully manifested in the incarnation, mission, and sacrifice of God's beloved Son himself, the promised heir to come who allowed himself to be "caught in the thicket" for our sins, and who was bound upon the altar of the cross to shed his blood for our redemption. This was the central meaning of the “greater exodus” that Yeshua discussed with Moses and Elijah on the mount of transfiguration before his crucifixion (see Luke 9:29-31). Amen, Yeshua as our sacrificial Lamb is heart of the gospel message itself (John 1:29; 1 Pet. 1:19; Isa. 53:3-12); it’s the “scarlet thread” he showed his followers (Luke 24:27); it’s the Metaphor God chose to make his sacrificial love known to us.

The image of "Christ our Passover Lamb" (המשיח פסח שלנו) will extend forever and unto eternity itself, when the Lamb of God is fully glorified and enthroned, as it says: "For the Lamb on the throne will be their Shepherd. He will lead them to springs of life-giving water. And God will wipe every tear from their eyes" (Rev. 7:17). "And the city has no need of sun or moon, for the glory of God illuminates the city, and the Lamb is its light" (Rev. 21:23).

The meaning and substance of Passover, then, is essential to the life of the Christian, and to dismiss its significance is to risk missing the point of God's redemption and salvation itself. The Apostle Paul used “Passover language” to describe our new life in Messiah by admonishing us to: "purge out the old leaven, that you may be a new lump, since you truly are unleavened. For indeed Christ, our Passover, was sacrificed for us. Therefore let us keep the feast, not with old leaven, nor with the leaven of malice and wickedness, but with the unleavened bread of sincerity and truth" (1 Cor. 5:7-8).

The LORD did not waste his breath by revealing the Torah to Israel, nor did he speak out of two sides of his mouth when he instructed them to keep the Passover holiday every year (Num. 9:2,14; Lev. 23:5; Deut. 16:1). Remember - Jesus was the Voice of God speaking to Israel at Sinai; Jesus was Moses' Teacher regarding the seven holidays of the Torah! He said "Do not think that I came to destroy the Law or the Prophets. I did not come to destroy but to fulfill. For assuredly, I say to you, till heaven and earth pass away, one jot or one tittle will by no means pass from the law till all is fulfilled. Whoever therefore breaks one of the least of these commandments, and teaches men so, shall be called least in the kingdom of heaven; but whoever does and teaches them, he shall be called great in the kingdom of heaven" (Matt. 5:17-19). Heaven and earth has not yet passed away, and therefore the Torah has its voice and place in the life of follower of Yeshua. Faith does not mean we are devoid of law of God, even if the verdict of the law reveals our sin. As the Apostle Paul said, "Do we then make void the law through faith? Certainly not! On the contrary, we establish the law" (Rom. 3:31). We are justified by trusting in the righteousness of God in the sacrifice of Yeshua, but that does not mean we disregard God's law so that "grace may abound" (Rom. 6:1-2)

So you see that the question of whether Christians should seriously engage the Passover turns on how they read the Scriptures, and in particular, how they esteem the words of the Torah. If they tend to read the Bible out of context, by focusing on the New Testament without taking time to carefully consider the context given in the Hebrew Scriptures, they likely will dismiss the significance of the Passover Seder and will think of it in theologically abstract terms, as an analogy or metaphor foretelling what Yeshua has done, and that it is now best remembered during communion rituals, rather than as an invitation to participate in the annual retelling of the great story of redemption that is the heritage of the people of God. But Yeshua himself observed the Passover with his disciples, and indeed his last Passover before his crucifixion represented his most intimate heart to us. We miss a lot if we minimize the significance of the Passover or regard it as somehow incidental to our life as believers in the great Lamb of God. Chaverim -- let us keep the feast! Shalom lekha.

[ Hebrew for Christians ]

­

­

[mclarenyaoi]

thank you to the wonderful @st-leclerc for the tag!! i love tag games

are you named after anyone? like a real life flesh-and-blood person who may or may not still be with us? no

when was the last time you cried? last tuesday from 5:15-5:52pm

do you have kids? imagine if i said yes lmfao... teen dadmom simon?? sheesh my condolences to that hypothetical offspring

what sports do you play/have you played? i played on a school soccer team when i was 8 for maybe 3 weeks at most (i was very bad at it which is hilarious in retrospect) and i've done nothing sport-wise since then. i'm actually not big on sports which is ironic since, hello, motorsport sideblog. but obviously i've grown to respect sports-doing a lot more in recent years

do you use sarcasm? only with people who i believe do/can understand my psyche and/or established persona. otherwise i get scared </3

what is the first thing you notice about people? for random strangers it's physical appearance and clothes. for specific strangers it's usually something they've said

what is your eye color? black! now this could be metaphorical or symbolical or something of that nature, but my eyes are genuinely just a shade of brown so dark they're, for practical reasons, black. chinese genetic heritage 💯

scary movies or happy endings? happy endings all the way. firstly bc i enjoy things turning out ok and secondly i genuinely can't do scary movies or honestly anything with suspense — if you need a gauge for this i once had a full-on panic attack watching it 2 at a movie night because pennywise ate a kid, which is his whole gig, so... obviously i did not end up finishing it 2

any talents? looking good and feeling gorgeous

where were you born? someone cue born in the usa by bruce springsteen

what are your hobbies? i draw, i wax poetic when unnecessary, and i indulge in various hedonistic acts on the daily 24/7. these days my hobbies are nothing particularly concrete lol

do you have any pets? 1 dog (turtle) (red eared slider) (his name is tucker) (he's 22 and he hates me but he lets me hold him like a hamburger) (that's a lie he scratches me so much; i love him in spite of his bloodlust bcos he is just an animal and does not understand human things and also for a turtle that hates me hes rather gentle)

how tall are you? depending on who you ask or who i'm standing next to and what they say their height is, i'm either 5'6" 5'7" or 5'8" (167-172cm). in my heart i'm 5'8" but in my mind i'm 5'7" tho i'll usually tell people i'm 5'8" regardless. wouldn't mind an extra two inches or so, but alas...

favorite subject at school? i guessssss art or english. but that's pushing it since i for real and for serious feel virtually nothing positive towards my academic studies

dream job? minecraft youtuber. just kidding i genuinely have no fucking clue LOL. tho tbh if i could make it as a mcyt-er i'd actually go for that. you (all encapsulating) didn't know this about me but i love minecraft

no pressure tags @box-box-blorbos @oscah @solitaire-enthusiast @roosterhouse and! if anyone sees this and wants to do it consider this me tagging u 👍 wheeeee :3

[saras-devotionals]

Quiet Time 3/6

What am I feeling today?

Another dream, kinda frustrated with it all, like I wish I was over it but at the same not? Also feeling super lazy and tired, ended up sleeping a lot last night and I wish I didn’t because today is my last day to get everything done.

Caring for the Spiritually Wounded (Bible Talk Leader’s Meeting)

Point of lesson: nursing people back to health (spiritual edition🕺)

Jeremiah 8:22 NIV

“Is there no balm in Gilead? Is there no physician there? Why then is there no healing for the wound of my people?”

I don’t entirely understand the context of this passage so I searched for commentary, finding:

certainly, there is balm in Gilead, and yes, there is a true physician there; but all of the blame for Israel’s sorrows must rest upon themselves for not applying the wonderful remedy which God has provided.

It is of great interest that the “balm in Gilead” has come to stand as a metaphor of the salvation in Jesus Christ

Furthermore, I got this from my discipler: People need to recover and see that 'pressure is a privilege' - God allows the stressful situation because He knows you can handle it.

Numbers 11:10-12 NIV

“Moses heard the people of every family wailing at the entrance to their tents. The Lord became exceedingly angry, and Moses was troubled. He asked the Lord, “Why have you brought this trouble on your servant? What have I done to displease you that you put the burden of all these people on me? Did I conceive all these people? Did I give them birth? Why do you tell me to carry them in my arms, as a nurse carries an infant, to the land you promised on oath to their ancestors?”

I feel that I can especially relate to this in the sense that I’m in nursing and currently working on an L&D + postpartum unit. I feel that there can be the misconception that babies are very fragile, especially newborns, but that’s not the case. That’s not to say that we shouldn’t be careful with them, but we also know that they can handle a lot more than we initially expect. I think this relates to people, yes we care for them and carry them and keep them safe, but they are also stronger than we give them credit for.

From discipler: As a 'nurse carries an infant'...if we don't care about people and their issues, we gotta look at ourselves and examine 'why don't we care?' Pray to care more and to ask questions, not just focus on ourselves. It is for God's glory that we bring up godly people, shaping them and helping them.

Be Joyful in Spite of Being Tired

Luke 9:1-2 NIV

“When Jesus had called the Twelve together, he gave them power and authority to drive out all demons and to cure diseases, and he sent them out to proclaim the kingdom of God and to heal the sick.”

Although Jesus hasn’t given us these powers, we have received the Holy Spirit and that’s a powerful thing. We can relate this in terms to demons (issues we may deal with that are hard to shake) and disease (perhaps a hard heart) and with the help of the Holy Spirit, we can work to care for those who are currently dealing with this.

From discipler: He gave me the Holy Spirit so that I can 'drive out the demons' using His power (thru prayer and His word). Identify any 'sickness' within your bible talk. Jesus was a healer and we can be, too.

Romans 15:1-2 NIV

“We who are strong ought to bear with the failings of the weak and not to please ourselves. Each of us should please our neighbors for their good, to build them up.”

There are times when my self perspective fluctuate and I can believe that I’m both strong and weak (and I think both are accurate). I can be strong for those who need me to be, I can be the person others can rely on, I can be strong for my patients, family, friends, etc. But I can also be weak, needing those stronger than me to help, seeking advice, going to God because I know I am unable to do it all on my own.

I do wonder about the second half, saying each of us should please our neighbors (thought about people pleasing) but it furthers by saying for their good, to build them up. Where’s the line between people pleasing and pleasing people for their good?

From discipler: If you are strong, you will bear with the weak. Don't look down on them, but offer help.. maybe sharing faith together or praying together.

1 Thessalonians 2:6-8 NIV

“We were not looking for praise from people, not from you or anyone else, even though as apostles of Christ we could have asserted our authority. Instead, we were like young children among you. Just as a nursing mother cares for her children, so we cared for you. Because we loved you so much, we were delighted to share with you not only the gospel of God but our lives as well.”

Don’t do things for credit or praise from other people, what is the point of puffing yourself up when it’s not really your doing but God working through you? Mimic the heart of a mother or a nurse. Caring for those because you want to, because your desire is to love. They are selfless, they know they will not get accolades for what they do because it is already expected of them. As disciples, we are already expected to love everyone: John 13:34-35 -> ““A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.””

From discipler: Be like a mother with her children- being delighted to share your life with them, not like it's a chore. And don't look for praise. It's a thankless job. Similar to being a nurse sometimes we are the ones cleaning up the mess..while the doctor gets all the credit and that's OK. God sees it and He is pleased when we do things for others out of gratitude, not looking for glory.

[alovesongshewrote]

You Choke on His Blood - Twilight | Eddie Munson x Reader

Plot:  Kas!Eddie scenario but with a twist! a twist that will become very obvious very quickly. Anyway, a year before the events of season 4, Eddie takes you to a bar and things go very wrong very quickly- and they don't get better for a long, long time. [Eddie Munson x Gender Neutral!Reader]  Part 1, Part 2,

Word count:  9,219

Warnings:  BIG WARNING: this whole chapter can be read as a metaphor for date r*pe, and there is an attempted date r*pe at the end that very quickly fails. A main character is drugged, another is turned into a vampire without their consent. Other warnings include: blood and violence, gore, murder, and assumed character death. Please use caution while reading. If there's anything you'd like me to add here, please lmk

Disclaimer: Fuck netflix, fuck whoever came up with having a "stranger things experience" in a former n*zi prison where jewish and romani people were exterminated. that's an incredibly fucked up thing to do, and i do not support or endorse it.

A/N: jesus fucking christ this chapter is 22 pages long on google docs. anyway, there's so much preamble here and most of it is the warnings- can't wait to see if i end up writing that darkfic...

Tags: i'm so sorry, but i genuinely can't remember who asked to be tagged for what. if you'd like to be added to the taglist for this fic, please lmk

You’d never given much thought to how you would die. You just assumed, as most others do, that you would meet your end at an old age in a hospital bed, or drift off in your sleep without suffering. In all fairness, even if you thought about how you would die every day, I don’t know how you could’ve seen your death coming.  

Instead of passing on in the usual way, you were dragged behind a bar and murdered by a monster. Its venom flooded your veins. You grew fangs and claws. You lost the boy you loved. Your mortal life ended.  

One year later, you sat at the same bar, alone. An untouched gin and tonic sat in front of you, glowing slightly thanks to a newly installed ultraviolet light. You glared at the drink, tapping your fingers against the glass and trying to clear your mind. Your attempts were unsuccessful.  

It wasn’t like you could be blamed for that, though. Thanks to your new inhuman memory, you remembered your death as transparently as the glass before you- including the role this bar had played in your final moments.

Long story long, you’d spent most of your last human day in the bedroom of a dear metalhead friend of yours. You’d more or less taken over his bed, lying on it as you listened to him rant and rave about some bar he’d ventured out to the other night. That wasn’t too out of the ordinary. You and Eddie Munson spent most of your time ranting at each other about whatever the fuck you felt like, and you were no stranger to sneaking into bars. However, it was pure tradition for the two of you to break drinking laws together.

Maybe that was why this rant in particular was creeping under your skin. You couldn’t come up with another reason for it. Eddie wasn’t teasing you, or provoking you in any way, which was out of the ordinary. Whatever the true reason may have been, you could only sit in his room watching his perfect lips move for so long before you got sick of it.  

Eventually, you were forced to act- you sat up from your spot on his bed and threw a pillow at his face with all of your strength. He was mostly unaffected.

“Something bothering you, sweetheart?”

You threw another pillow at him. It was the best way to ignore how the pet name made you feel, “Uh, yeah, there is. You’ve been talking about this place all day, and I’m almost one hundred percent sure it isn’t as metal as you say it is.”

“Oh?  Are you doubting my descriptive skills, (L/N)?”

“Why, I think I am, oh great master of descriptions,” as tempted as you were to throw something else at your friend, you settled for nudging his leg with your foot. Hard.

He stood from his place on the floor, looming over you with his hands on his hips in a very half-assed attempt to be intimidating. Of course, he failed at that. As intimidating as the rest of Hawkins found him, he never managed to scare you. He was too sweet for that. His eyes were too big, too soft. Also, his smile was a dead giveaway. He tried to fight it, but it won out, practically yelling out to the world that Eddie wasn’t actually upset.

Still, he tried to sound wounded, “Harsh, (Y/N). Harsh, and cold.”

“Is that really the best you can do, Eds?” you scoffed, “I’d give those descriptive words… maybe, a three out of ten? It’s closer to a four than a two if that helps.”

“It does not,” he paused, and the smile he had been fighting took over his face. His eyes glinted, bright with mischief. That fucker had a plan.

“Eddie?” your question sounded like a warning, “What are you-?”

Before you could finish your sentence, Eddie let himself fall on top of you, effectively pinning you to the bed. You let out a squeak of rage as you struggled, wiggling around as you tried to free yourself from underneath him.

“You dick!” you screeched through your poorly disguised giggles, “Get off me, oh my god-!”

“Mm, “dick” isn’t the best descriptive word you could come up with, (L/N), I’d give it a three out of ten. Maybe scoundrel- or mayhaps villain or rogue would be better.” 

Eddie’s voice was slightly muffled, his face still pressed into his sheets as you writhed about. You tried to ignore the heat that flooded your body at the feeling of his weight on top of you.

“Oh my god, get off of me.”

“Mmm, I’d rather not. You make a good pillow,” he pushed himself up on his elbows and smiled down at you. A strand of his hair was stuck to his cheek, and you had to fight off the urge to brush it away. Instead, you planted your hand in the center of his face and shoved him off of you. He gave out half a yell as he lost his balance and collapsed to the floor.

You dragged yourself over to the edge of the bed and looked down at him. The smile on his face matched the one on yours.

“Thou art a cruel and unmerciful wretch, (Y/N) (L/N).”

“Oh, bite me, Munson.”

“You wound me! And to think I was planning on taking you to a certain bar tonight.”

You rolled your eyes and extended a hand down to him. He accepted your hand and let you pull him up. As you did, you made a bit of a show of sighing and groaning as you said, “Damn, I guess that means I have to keep you alive for the next few hours.”

“You doooo,” he almost cooed at you as he returned to his seated position at the side of the bed, “Otherwise, who would watch your drink when you got distracted by something shiny, huh? And who would drive your ass home after you have one too many?”

“I’m gonna… bite you,” you grumbled, running a hand through Eddie’s hair, messing it up as much as you could.  

You knew he was right. Whenever the two of you ventured out with the intent to commit the lovely crime of underage drinking, he was the one to have your back. Of course, you had his

“I’d like to see you try,” he grabbed your wrist, pulling it away from his hair and towards his chest. He didn’t seem to notice the effect that small action had on you. Instead, he just continued to ramble on about whatever came into his mind.  

That was just how the two of you were. Your friendship was a mix of relentless teasing and genuine affection. And you loved it. You loved him, as deeply and truly as any one person could love another. He loved you the same way- even if you did threaten to bite him on a regular basis, which you absolutely did.  

Of course, all of your feelings were felt in silence. You never told him how you felt, and it was one of your greatest regrets. If you had known what was going to happen to you that night, you would have told him everything. You would have gotten him to stay home with you. You wouldn’t have left his trailer.  

You didn’t know what would happen, though. You had no way of knowing. So, you stayed silent, and you didn’t think about it too much.

Now, as you sat in the same bar he wanted to take you to, you desperately wished you could go back and make better choices. As your fingers traced shapes through the condensation on your glass, you mourned your past self and all their bad choices. After a moment of silence for your past actions, you let the memory consume you again.

The day passed quickly. Soon, you were ready to leave. Eddie draped one of his jackets over your shoulders as you stepped out of his trailer. The leather smelled like him- like warmth, spice, and weed. He ran a hand through your hair and messed it up, laughing as you grabbed at the offending limb.

“Munson, you asshole, I’m going to bite you.”

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he said, trying and failing to hide his smile, “Look, in return, you can pick what we listen to on the way there.”

That was a high honour- one that was very rarely offered to anyone other than you. A smirk crawled its way across your face as you looked between the car and your friend, “That’s more like it, pretty boy.”

“Pretty boy?” he questioned as you climbed into his van.

“Don’t judge- you keep calling me ‘sweetheart,’ I have to at least try to compete with that.”

“Well,” he shut the door behind you and got into the driver’s seat, “You aren’t doing the best job of that.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re winning now, whatever,” your reply was absent-minded, your attention now focused on the cassette tapes scattered throughout the organized disorder of his van. You picked up a tape and examined it before returning it to the pile, “But I will make a comeback.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“I will!  I’m gonna kick your ass, trust me.”

“Sure thing, man, and right after that, I’ll kick your ass.”

“You could never, I’m too adorable.”

“Damn,” he smacked the steering wheel without much force, “I think you’re right.”

“I know I’m right,” your focus returned to the pile of tapes, and the van fell into silence.

Unbeknownst to you, Eddie was also focused on the tapes- or more specifically, the way you looked as you picked a cassette from the mess in his van. Your bottom lip was drawn between your teeth in deep concentration, and for an embarrassingly long moment, he wished that it was his teeth biting down on your lip instead. 

He tried to ignore that, fighting the thought off and hoping that you didn’t notice the red dusting his cheeks. Suddenly, the silence of the van was far too loud for him.

“Hurry up and pick a damn tape, will ya? Pick one, or I’m pulling over, 'cause I’m not about to drive all the way to the bar sitting in silence like a serial killer.”

You scoffed, “Yeah, right. You might look scary, Cupcake, but I don’t think anything could make you into a serial killer.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“I think you’d be surprised, (L/N).”

“Okay, then, tell me. What would make you, Eddie Munson, into a serial killer?”

He paused for a moment, staring straight at the road, pondering your question. As you fell to pieces laughing at him, another bigger question crossed his mind.

“Did you just call me Cupcake?”

“Would you kill me if I did?”

He sighed and stared out at the road again, choosing not to dignify your question with a response. It was a wise choice- but of course, it was one you couldn’t accept.

“So that’s a no? A no to my murder? Okay then, baby girl.”

He turned to you, his concentration on the road nearly shattered. His head was cocked to the side slightly in a very cute way. He smiled, though his eyes betrayed his utter confusion, which, really, you couldn’t blame him for.

“Sorry,” you said, tapping your fingers against the dash, “I was trying to come up with something to match ‘sweetheart’ again.”

“And the best you came up with was ‘baby girl?’” his composure was quickly slipping as he descended into giggles.

“I’m sorry! It was the first thing that came to mind!”

“The first thing that came to your mind was ‘baby girl?’”   

“Oh my god,” you shoved his arm, setting off another round of giggles. It was your turn to sigh and look away.  

A few moments later, when his laughter had subsided, you opened your mouth again, “So, should I go back to calling you Cupcake? I liked that one.”

He wheezed, completely unable to answer. You were thankful that the road was empty because he probably would have crashed the car. When he finally recovered, he sat up straight, wiping a fake tear from his eye, “That’s up to you, sweetheart. Just like the music. So pick something.”

“You got me,” you threw your hands up, trying to act exasperated- though the look on your face gave you away. You leaned over in your seat and returned to the cassette pile, finally choosing one.

Of course, it was a mix that you had made. There was nothing you enjoyed more than gently bullying your friend by making him listen to your taste in music. You let yourself relax in your seat as the first song on the track blasted in your ears.  ‘The Chain.’ Fleetwood Mac.  Musical excellence.

The setting sun cast a warm glow over your world, painting you and Eddie in gold. You watched him, a smile crossing your face as he ranted to you about some D&D thing over the music. His eyes were so bright, so alive- and you were entranced.  You couldn’t look away, and you didn’t want to. If that one moment could have extended on forever, you would’ve been happy, your destination be damned.

Of course, that wasn’t the case. The sun set, the van stopped, and you arrived at the bar. Still, a year and a monstrous transformation later, that moment continued to shine like gold in your memories.  

You found yourself relaxing slightly, leaning against the bar, your hand supporting your chin as you thought about it- as you thought about the way the sun lit Eddie’s hair, giving him a sort of halo, and as you remembered the way the sun changed his dark eyes to the colour of honey.  

The sweet memory was quickly shattered, however, by a flash of those same brown eyes, confused and terrified, watching as that thing attacked you.

You took a sip of your drink.

Behind you, a few people entered the bar. You turned the slightest bit, taking them in without turning your head too far thanks to your belothed inhuman eyes. Among them stood a couple- one in leather, and one in a battle jacket.

You took another sip, trying to ignore how much that couple resembled you, pretending you didn’t notice the burning sting in your eyes as you remembered walking into the bar with Eddie, oblivious to what was about to happen.

Your body was tucked under his arm, distracting you, for a moment, from the fact that the bar smelled pungently of metal. You couldn’t exactly place what it was at the time- though now you knew that the smell was iron, or more accurately, rust.

Still, at the time, you paid it no mind. You were just a little distracted by the sight and sounds surrounding you. Lights flashed, drenching the dance floor in darkness before blinding you with light. The entire room was filled with people, talking, dancing, drinking, all of them densely packed into the space like metalhead sardines. You didn’t notice then, how many of them were staring at you.

You couldn’t be blamed for that. The bar was mildly overwhelming, drowning out your senses in a sea of screams and shouts and songs. Still, you couldn’t help but grin. Something about the noise made you feel particularly alive.  

“Are you thirsty?” Eddie asked. He didn’t wait for an answer before he continued, “I’m thirsty. Come on, sweetheart.”

You let him take you by the hand and pull you towards the bar, stopping a few seats down from where you would sit one year later. He didn’t ask you for your drink preferences- he’d always known your tastes well. You trusted him to choose for you.

You could practically see your former self now, sitting at the bar, drink in hand, looking around with wide eyes, trying to take everything in at once and failing. You could see yourself turning back to Eddie, catching his smile as he watched you.

You spent a few hours like that, talking to each other, drinking, and simply taking in the revelry around you. Then everything started to go south.

Somewhere behind you, a fight broke out. The chaos stole your attention from the bar and the drinks in front of you. The fight took Eddie’s focus as well. He put an arm in front of you, protecting you from the edges of the fray. It was a valiant effort, and you appreciated it, even now- but maybe getting punched would have been better than what came next.

The fight ended quickly. The instigator was asked to leave, and the other man involved in the brawl was left behind, nursing what looked like a black eye. And that was that. You shared a glance with Eddie, your eyebrows raised as he grimaced. You swallowed your laughter and turned back to your drinks, not realizing that your fatal mistake had already been made.

You brought the glass to your lips.

Eddie brought his glass to his.

You both took a drink.

Your drink was fine. It didn’t taste any different than it had before. There was no powdery substance swirling around the liquid. Nothing had changed. It was fine. You were fine.

But Eddie? Eddie was not fine.

It was easy to see that something was wrong- especially when, out of the corner of your eye, you watched him take a sip of his drink, make a face, take another sip of his drink, and spit that sip back into his glass.

“Eds?” you said his name like a question, “Are you-”

“Shit.  Shit-” instead of responding to you, Eddie held his drink up, trying to see it in the low light of the bar. He squinted at it, trying to focus on the liquid through the condensation.

Then he dropped the glass.

It shattered on the bar’s surface, spraying glass fragments and alcohol in every direction. A few people jumped back, and you joined them with a yelp- but not before a shard managed to slice your hand open.

Your focus wasn’t on your own pain, though. Nope, you were entirely focused on how Eddie had barely moved. It looked as if he was slumping forward slightly- like he was off balance, uneasy on his feet.

“Eds?” your voice and hands shook as you reached out for him. Before your hand met his shoulder, he bolted upright, his hands braced against the bar.  

“That was too quick. It shouldn’t have happened that fast-” his words were quiet. He wasn’t talking to you.

“Eddie, what are you talking about-?”

“Something’s wrong. We should leave,” he sounded so serious in that moment- almost scared.  You’d never heard him sound that way before.

“What’s- what’s going on?”

“Someone put something in my drink,” he turned and tried to smile at you in what you had to guess was an attempt to keep you calm. It didn’t work. His movements were off- slightly subdued and sluggish. He looked like he was struggling to keep his eyes open.

And, in fact, he was. He was dizzy, drowsy, and overall experiencing the effects of what he had to assume was some kind of date rape drug. Someone must have slipped it into his drink while he was watching the fight- and he had a feeling that they’d missed their intended target.  You.

He wasn’t exactly thankful that he had been drugged, but at the time, he was thankful that it was him and not you.  

He wasn’t sure which drug it was. Sure, he was a dealer, but not for this.  His general knowledge suggested that it was probably roofies thanks to the sudden and bitter taste in his drink, but his general knowledge also reminded him that roofies didn’t work this fast. He’d taken one sip, and within seconds he was seeing symptoms. That wasn’t normal. None of this was.  

It scared him, honestly, and it should have.  He didn’t know what was happening to him. He didn’t know what was going on in his own body. He didn’t know what was in his system. And on top of that, he couldn’t protect you from whoever did this. He was too out of it- too dizzy, too drowsy. The world around him was too fuzzy for him to do much more than get the two of you out of there. 

“It’s probably just roofies, but, uh- we need to go,” his words were slurred slightly, but you understood him just fine. As you pulled him from the bar and towards the exit, one thought lingered in his blurred, distorted mind.

The person who had done this to him was probably targeting you.

That thought scared him more than anything else that night- more than the drugs in his system and more than the unknowns that circled his head. It was sweet that he worried too much- but in a way, it was also a waste. It wasn’t like he would remember any of this the next day.

But he didn’t know that. He was just focused on getting out of the bar with you. He put all of his effort into walking normally, trying to make the process easier, taking as much of the burden as he could off of your shoulders.

He wasn’t great at that. It was nice that he tried, but he almost fell into you completely, swearing under his breath as you moved to support his weight. You did your best to avoid getting blood on him, but it was a difficult process considering the blood was coming from your hand. The two of you swayed slightly, entirely unsteady as you moved back through the bar, making your escape.

And you almost did it. You almost escaped. You were just a few feet from the door when someone stepped in your way, blocking your path.

You recognized him. Eddie was too out of it at that point to register the man’s face, but you knew him. He was one of the men who was fighting earlier- the one left in the bar. Oddly enough, there was no bruising on his face. There was no blood, no damage- just a sharp grin cutting across his cheeks. The man had a beautiful smile, you had to admit- beautiful and off-putting.

“Need some help there?” he offered, reaching out a hand. On the surface, it was a kind gesture, but something in your gut told you to run. The scent of metal was stronger around this man.

“I think we’ll be fine, thanks,” you tried to keep your face neutral, all the while gritting your teeth.

“No, no, I insist.”

“So do I,” you growled, clutching Eddie’s body tighter to you, “We’ll be fine. Thanks.”

The man’s smile grew wider. You tried to step around him, but he walked, again, into your path. When you turned to take another route, you almost walked into another man. You recognized him, too, as the man who had started the fight. He must have made his way back into the bar, but you barely registered that. You were distracted by the grin on his face, just as sharp and intimidating as the smile on the other man. 

You tried again, in vain, to bypass this man, but you found yourself walking into someone else’s body. You looked up to find yourself encircled by strangers, all of them with sharp, cutting smiles. You were surrounded. Your stomach dropped.

“Come on, let us help,” the first man said, taking Eddie from your grasp by force.

“Hey! Stop-!” you called out after him, trying to keep up with his lengthy steps.

“Stop! Let him go, you asshole-” you raised your fists, pounding on the man’s back, trying to get him to stop. You failed. What’s more, your effort was cut short by another two men grabbing your arms and pulling you towards the exit.  

You struggled in their grasp, not really caring if you made a scene. You writhed, screamed, and fought, but you made no impact on your situation. Somehow, none of the bystanders even seemed to notice.  

To be fair, you almost didn’t notice when the men pulled you into the brisk night and behind the bar. It was a dimly lit space. Night had fallen, and clouds covered the moon. That left two lights attached to the building to cast the space in a sickly yellow light. You were almost glad that they did such a shitty job.

What you could see of the concrete behind the bar was covered in odd stains. Two dumpsters were covered in a similar substance. Each of them reeked with the smell of rot- in fact, the whole area did. Flies buzzed nearby, humming an elegy in tune with the dull static sound of the wall lights.  

Before your surroundings could make you spiral any further, Eddie’s voice hit your ears. He groaned out your name, breaking your heart into a million little pieces. You did your best to keep your eyes on him despite the situation, and the horror around you. You had to focus on his limp frame, his arms twisted behind his back in a cruel, unforgiving hold by the man from the bar.  

Seeing him hurt just made you fight harder. You snapped at your captors, spitting and biting, snarling like a feral beast. You screamed, too, begging them to let him go, begging any passers-by for help. No one came. No one helpful, anyway.

In the midst of your frenzied fighting, a figure emerged from the shadows. Its eyes were white pinpricks in the dark, gazing at you, eating you alive even at a distance. Your body froze when you finally noticed it standing there. It took a few steps into the light, and a chill ran through you. He was just a normal man. A little older than you, relatively handsome, and with a grin as sharp as any other. You didn’t know who he was. You didn’t recognize him from the bar. But something told you that he knew you, that he’d been waiting here, for you.

You wanted to keep fighting. You wanted to break from your captors’ hold, grab Eddie, and escape. You didn’t do any of those things.

Instead, you stood, trapped as the Stranger advanced on you. You watched him with wide, terrified eyes as he took your injured hand in his. He examined the wound, inhaling the blood that stained your skin.

“I told you they’d be a catch, didn’t I?” he finally spoke in a deep voice that chilled your blood.

“Mhmm, but are they really worth the hassle?” one of your captors spoke up, “They’re rather intent on causing a scene- and extensive damage to my face.…” 

“You deserved it,” you barked, a bit of fight returning to your bones.  

The shadow-drenched Stranger seemed to like that response, “See? They’re a fighter. They’ll last longer than the others, and when they do break, well-” he dug his fingers into the wound on your palm, drawing a scream from your lips, “It’ll be more fun for us, won’t it?”

His hungry eyes met yours as he brought his blood-soaked digits to his mouth. Again, you found yourself frozen, like a deer trapped in headlights, watching as he licked the red from his fingers.  

“Oh,” the Stranger purred, leaning closer to you, “They’re delicious.”

The Stranger’s smile grew wider as he turned his attention to your throat. He took his time drawing closer to you, casually taking hold of you in place of your captors. You strained against his grip, but your efforts were futile. His strength was inhuman- his grip on you left bruises that would never truly go away. It finally dawned on you that this was not a man that held you like he wanted to destroy you- this was a monster that wanted to toy with you until you breathed your last.

And in that moment, you understood. You were his prey. You were a rabbit between the teeth of a predator. A deer staring down a fucking bus. You were going to die- and things were only going to get worse from there.  

The Stranger grabbed your face and pulled you in, teeth bared. He was mere seconds away from piercing the thin flesh of your throat when the sound of a scuffle broke his concentration.

“Let them go, you bastard-”

Eddie.  He was up and struggling, fighting against the man holding him despite the drugs coursing through his veins. Your heart screamed in your chest, desperate for him to help you- and for you to help him. But there was nothing you could do.

“Did you hear me? Let. Them. Go,” his voice trembled, and his words slurred together, but it didn’t matter. He was fighting and he was doing it for you.  

It was incredibly stupid. It was incredibly brave.  It spared you for a moment, but it cost you both in the long run, and that didn’t matter in the end, because fuck, you loved him.

The Stranger also loved Eddie, but he loved him for a much different, much more entertainment-based reason.

“Ohhh, isn’t this cute?” The Stranger released you, throwing you back to the other men. His eyes set upon his newest fascination with an unsettling joy engraved within them.

He grabbed Eddie by the chin, forcing your friend to meet his gaze. The Stranger studied him for a moment, taking in the honey brown eyes that you were so fond of before he placed both of his hands on Eddie’s face, almost cradling it. His grasp almost looked gentle. From experience, you could tell that it was anything but. It would only take a jerk of the Stranger's hands to end the boy you loved- and you were powerless to do anything about it.

A sob escaped you as you thrashed, helplessly. Eddie was drugged and defenceless, and you couldn’t help him. You couldn’t see his face, but you could practically feel the panic burning through him.  

“Don’t cry, little one,” the Stranger said, casting a glance at you over his shoulder, “Don’t waste your tears on this fucking failure.”

“Fuck off-” you hissed, but the Stranger paid you no mind. Instead, he turned his gaze back to Eddie, tilting his head and humming a bit. The world fell silent for a few moments as dread built in your chest. Fear grew inside of you, eating away at your soul like a parasite.  

“It’s kind of sweet, you know? How much he cares for you. How much he wants to protect you. Oh, he’s going to be so much fun.”

“Stop!!  Leave him alone!” you begged, “Please, don’t hurt him!”

“Don’t worry, little one,” the smirk on the Stranger’s face could not be described as anything but malicious. His eyes glinted in the low light, and as he spared you another glance, your heart dropped to your stomach, “I’ll leave most of the hurting to you.”

Before you could process what that truly meant, the Stranger tilted Eddie’s head back and drove his fingers into your friend’s temples. You watched, petrified, as the light faded from his eyes. He stopped struggling. His limbs fell to his sides as he went limp in the Stranger’s hold. You could barely hear the apology that fell from Eddie’s lips- a small, pitiful “I’m sorry,” that was undoubtedly meant for you.  

A milky white sheen covered his eyes before they slid shut entirely. Then, as quickly as it began, it was over. The Stranger let Eddie’s body fall to the floor. Everything stilled. The world fell silent.

You screamed.

The sound echoed through the parking lot. Your pain and anguish bounced off of the brick walls of the bar, and the stained concrete below. You strained against your captors, praying for some secret strength to help you free yourself and get to your friend.  

But there was nothing. You were trapped. And you were certain that Eddie was dead.

“Will you shut up?” one of the men growled.

“Master, I really think this one is more trouble than they’re worth-”

“Let’s cut the crap and slit their throat. It’s not like we really need another servant,” another of the men entangled a hand in your hair, pulling him towards you by the roots. He used the leverage to pull your head back, exposing your neck to the men around you, “Especially this one will be so fun to break.”

You felt hands on your wrists and on your waist. It felt as if a thousand men had suddenly gathered, manifesting from the shadows to tear you apart. No matter how hard you thrashed, you couldn’t shake them off. A sharp pinch hit your neck- teeth. Fangs threatened your flesh, digging in, moments from drawing blood.  

They were going to eat you. You were going to die, and all you could think about was the life leaving Eddie’s eyes.

“Enough,” the Stranger’s voice rang in your ears, blocking out the sound of your screams. His footsteps filled your mind as he approached you, stepping away from Eddie’s body, “Have patience. You’ll have your turn to drink as long as we stick to the plan.”

He stopped in front of you and held out a hand, “Give them to me.”

Without another thought, you were thrown into his arms. You weren’t sure whether you should be relieved, or afraid. Before you could make up your mind on that one, the Stranger took your injured hand in his. His hungry eyes bore into yours as he ran his tongue over the wound.  

The second your blood hit his tongue, he shifted, slightly. His eyes sharpened, glinting in the low light like an animal’s as if he had a tapetum lucidum of his own. His teeth grew slightly in length and in sharpness. You already knew that this man wasn’t human, but now you could see it. And looking just behind him, you could see that every other man surrounding you was the exact same type of creature that he was. They were monsters, all of them.

You whimpered, wounding your pride slightly. Still, you found it in yourself to ask, “What did you do to him?”

“You’ll find out soon enough, sweet one.”

A shaky breath filled your lungs. In your last moments, with your last breaths, you asked another question- one that you already knew the answer to, “What are you?”

He didn’t answer. Before you could understand what was happening, you were knocked back. The Stranger held you in midair against his chest, between him and the ground. As he set his teeth against your pulse point, your eyes fell to Eddie. His crumpled form lay where the Stranger had left him. His eyes were shut. He looked dead.  

Despite the imminent death, you couldn’t help but wonder- what would happen to him after these monsters were done with you? After they followed their plan and ate you, would they kill him? Would they do to him what they were doing to you?

Tears spilled down your cheeks even before you felt the Stranger tearing into your throat.  

He made no effort to show mercy. His jaw clamped down on you, tearing through flesh and vein until he was satisfied. Your body burnt with pain so violent that you could not help the tears that fell from your eyes. Your vision blurred and tunnelled. Everything around you turned grey as your hands began to shake. The rest of your body began to convulse.  

Each and every sensation you felt intensified tenfold. You could feel the beating of your heart in your chest, the pulling of your muscles, and the grating of your bones against your flesh.  

It was fucking sickening.

You heard a sound. A scream, a broken plea, faint but full of fear- the cry of a dying thing. For a moment, you thought it was something in the woods, a deer or a rabbit caught screaming as something big tore it apart. It took you a minute to register that the sound came from you.  

Other sets of teeth pierced your skin as the rest of the men joined in on the murder. Someone’s lips lapped at your wounded hand, and someone else’s fangs carved into your thigh. You could feel the smiles on their faces as they ate you alive. Time seemed to slow down as they ripped you open and drank you to death. A sickening lightness took your mind as you recognized what was to come.

With even your desperation drained, you succumbed to your fate. The fight in you was gone. The last thing your human eyes saw was Eddie. The pain crescendoed, and the world went dark. You were dead. Your life was over.  

But that wasn’t the end, was it?  

No. No, it was not. You were dead, yes, but then you noticed that you could still feel everything. All of the pain, the anguish, the panic- it was still there, running through your body, eating away at what was left of you.

In the haze of sightless experiences, you could feel something pressing against your lips- something hard, dripping with what had to be blood. The taste of metal flooded your mouth as a thick, hot liquid rushed in. You could feel it coursing down your throat, changing you as it went. As you drank, you grew stronger. Whatever it was that they had given you, it brought you back from the abyss. The pain lessened. Your senses sharpened. And everything felt wrong.

Your teeth were too long for your mouth. You could smell the ichor that stained the ground beneath you, and what was undoubtedly the scent of corpses radiating from the dumpster. The buzzing of the flies and of the dim yellow lights screamed in your ears, creating a cacophony of sounds that you could not escape from. You could feel your blood, hot and steaming, dripping down your cold flesh where your assailants had decided to waste it.

And what a waste it was.

From the outside of the building, you could hear the heartbeats of every single patron of the bar. You could smell their sweat and practically taste their flesh.  And you were so hungry- suddenly, the trickle of dark plasma down your throat wasn’t enough. You needed more.

With new inhuman strength, you gripped the thing against your mouth and sunk your claws and teeth deeper inside. You drank from it, hungrily, viciously, like an animal drinking in the viscera of its kill. You could hear a laugh, feel the limb, an arm, twitch between your jaws, but you didn’t fucking care. The new hunger that gripped you was vast and relentless- you couldn’t get enough.

You were still clinging to the arm when the Stranger pulled you away by the back of your neck. It was his other arm that you’d been tearing apart, but he didn’t seem to mind. Another of those nasty cold smiles was plastered across his face, and there was almost a sort of pride in his eyes when he looked at you.

“That’s it, sweet one, that’s it,” he cooed, “You’re thirsty, aren’t you?”

You didn’t want to give him a response. Instead, you strained against his hold, trying to bite his arm again. He was bleeding- dark liquid dripped down his fingers, beckoning you to taste it. And yes, his blood was weird. It was bitter, and it wasn’t completely satisfying, but fuck, did you want more of it.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” his smile widened, “Well, I can tell you where to get more. Do you want more?”

Your gaze broke from his arm, snapping to his face. You were desperate, so fucking desperate, inhumanly and monstrously desperate.

The Stranger seemed to know this. His eyes glinted with malice and excitement. He knew that he had power over you. He knew what was coming next, and he loved that you didn’t. He rose up slowly, keeping his eyes on your quivering frame, and with a flourish, he gestured to Eddie.

“Drink up, sweet thing.”

…

You couldn’t. You wouldn’t.

And yes, you were conflicted. Yes, you wanted to eat Eddie Munson, your longtime friend and overall protector- the man you’d loved since you knew what love was, but for obvious reasons, you also did not want to do that.  

And yet, despite that, you found yourself crawling towards him, eyes set on his body like a hungry animal stalking fresh meat. In many ways, you were. 

When you reached him, you took a moment just to stare. He still looked sick- an after-effect from whatever the Stranger had done to him. Somehow, though, he managed to look beautiful. He was angelic, even in this filthy hell. You brought a hand up to trace his jaw. Your fingertips traced over his porcelain skin until they hovered over his neck, setting themselves atop his pulse point. For a moment, you thought you felt a heartbeat; slow and faint, but present.

You told yourself you were imagining things.

He was gone, you knew that, and the knowledge burned you.  It cursed you, inside and out.  Loss weighed heavy in your heart, calling you to make bad decisions and do things you’d regret.  Why worry about tomorrow when your world had just ended?

But something stopped you- something deep inside you- the little rational part of your brain that still remained- screamed for you to control your impulses.  And you did.  Dead or otherwise, you wouldn’t be eating Eddie Munson. 

Instead, you leaned down, bringing yourself closer to his throat. Your lips hovered over his pulse point, but you didn’t bite down into his sweet skin. Instead, you placed a short, gentle kiss on his neck- a soft goodbye.

Then, with a final look at the boy you loved, you stood. Your body shook terribly. Your vision swam, and the world seemed to shift underneath you. Despite all of this, you managed, and you stood tall and proud as you faced down the Stranger and his monsters. Blood-soaked and broken, you did your best to look confident and unafraid. You were a fool for what you were about to do. You did it anyway.

It was time to be brave.

“I can’t do it.”

“Oh, why? Because you love him?” the Stranger mocked you. You refused to react.

You remained silent.  

A sickening smile spread across the Stranger’s face, “Ah, humans. So simple. Don’t worry, darling. We’ll fix you.”

With a flick of his hand, the Stranger ordered one of his monsters to come and investigate your claims. You watched as the man moved forward, his hungry eyes fixed on you and on Eddie. Before he could get too close, you darted forward with speed that surprised you. You greeted him with a solid punch to the face.

Your assailant hit the ground, clutching his face with a hand. You had done that. You had knocked him down. You hadn’t been able to knock any of these monsters off of you before, but now… Your new strength was a definite surprise, but a welcome one to be sure.

Another few blood-suckers were sent your way. You punched the first one in the stomach, sending him back to the ground. Another fist flew towards your face, but you managed to dodge it, grabbing the wrist of the thing that attacked you. You threw the man away from you and caught the fist of the next man. For all intents and purposes, you were winning.

And then that ended. A knee met your chest, knocking the wind out of you and sending you stumbling towards the concrete. A boot collided with your ribs, followed by several more blows. You could do nothing but curl in on yourself, trying to protect the more fragile parts of your body. You could practically feel the bruises forming, though your skin remained unblemished.  

The beating continued for a few more minutes. You could do nothing but lie there and take it. You were already weakened- what could you do to fight back?  

“Enough,” you could feel the Stranger’s voice in your bones, “Get them up.”

Hands gripped your arms and pulled you up from the floor. Another hand gripped under your chin, forcing you to gaze up at the man who’d caused all this suffering.

He stalked towards you. For once, his face was expressionless. He looked you up and down, taking in your weakened form. An awful grin took over his face as he reached out to stroke your cheek.

“Like I said, fun to break. Let’s be off, now. There’s still much to do before the sunrise.”

And, unfortunately, there was- and it never seemed to stop. For a year you were kept as a prisoner, a thrall to the thing that turned you. You witnessed horror after horror, and you did what you needed to survive. You bided your time, though, and eventually, you gathered your courage and your cunning, and you tore the Stranger- your vampiric master- limb from fucking limb.  

You drank him, consuming his foul blood until there was nothing left. It felt good, freeing, to see the fear on his face. It brought you indescribable joy to watch the light drain from his eyes. And when, finally, your killer lay dead before you, 

After that, you found yourself relatively lost. You’d lived the last monstrous year of your life dependent on the Stranger and his coven. With them dead at your hand, you weren’t sure exactly how to live in the modern world as a creature of the night.

Your former master’s bank account was a good first step.

Yeah, it turns out that decades, possibly centuries of murder can turn a bit of a profit. Between general theft and contract killings, the Stranger definitely wasn’t hungry for money. He was just hungry for blood- and now, he wasn’t hungry for anything. Just dirt, if you had to guess.

Anyway.

You donated a solid portion of the money to various charities. It was blood money in the purest, most literal way, and keeping it would only weigh you down.

With the rest of it, you bought the bar you’d been turned at. A surprising number of the staff had been dangerous monsters in one way or another. You quickly corrected that. The staff you had now were much less monstrous- they were a safer crowd, human or otherwise. They also had a solid benefits package, so that was nice.

You had also purchased yourself a home near Hawkins. You weren’t directly in the town- no, you were easing yourself into returning. For one thing, people would have questions for you. It wasn’t every day that a young adult for a year before reappearing miraculously and with assloads of money in the bank.  

For another thing, the memories of your human life stung you. It hurt you to think back, to think of everyone you left behind. To think of Eddie, whose death still weighed heavy in your heart, and whose absence left a deep ache inside of you. It was almost nice, the agony that he left behind. It was just nice to know that you could still feel hurt, emotionally or otherwise.

So, that’s where you ended up. One year later, at the same bar, your bar, watching patrons mill about, dancing and drinking. Your eyes fell back, again and again, to the couple- the one in the leather and the one in the battle jacket. 

They were leaning against the bar, drinking together, all loving smiles and adoring stares. You embraced the stab of pain the image sent to your heart.

Taking a sip of your drink, you continued to watch as the one in leather stood and headed for the bathroom, eyes distracted as she seemed to sulk away. Your eyes turned, then, to the one in the battle jacket. You were glad you did. It meant that you got to watch him shatter the illusion that he was anything like Eddie.

You watched, eyes widening, as the man slipped a pill into his date’s drink. He looked around, his own eyes wide, looking to see if anyone had noticed him. Of course, he didn’t see you. He sat back down, shaking his hands out and pretending he’d done nothing wrong.

You knew better.

You knew you would be eating tonight. 

You turned to the bartender- another monster with a story similar to yours, and placed your hand on the bar between you, “Jen, we’ve got a bit of a situation.”

“I know,” she said, leaning towards you, “Should I-?”

You nodded, adding, “We might need a car, as well.”

“On it, boss,” Jen gave you a mock salute before she turned to face the battle jacket-wearing animal. She leaned over the counter with a wide grin and asked if she could get him another drink. He accepted with a wide, lusty grin. Pig.

You turned your attention back to the washroom, waiting for the leather-clad girl to re-enter the room. You saw her before her date did, and as she made her way to him, you stepped into her path.

“Hey there,” you said, voice low, “I just thought you should know- your date slipped something into your drink.”

A thousand emotions showed on her face- shock, anger, fear.

“That shithead, I- I don’t know how I’m gonna get home. He drove me here, I-”

“Don’t worry, cupcake. Ask the bartender in the black to call you a car,” you pointed to another bartender- not Jen, who was busy dealing with the pig.

“I- I don’t know if I have enough,” the poor thing was starting to tear up. A pang of sympathy ran through you, and you revelled in the emotion for a moment, clinging to the small fragment of humanity you had left.

“Like I said, don’t worry. The bar will cover it for you, no charge.”

“I- are you sure?”

“Of course, dear.”

“I-” her relief turned to suspicion, “Why would you do that?”

You shrugged, pulling a smile onto your face to hide the memories that crossed your mind, “It’s important to us that our patrons make it home safe. Go on now.”

You bowed, slightly, as you made a rather grand gesture in the direction of the bartender. The girl turned away from you slowly as if she was hesitant to stray from the modicum of safety you provided. You didn’t blame her. The world you lived in was a dangerous place.  

The girl’s asshole date would learn that very soon.

As she reached safety, your eyes fell from her frame and slid towards the situation unfolding between Jen and the battle-jacket date. She had him now, hook line and sinker. It was almost comical the way he stumbled after her as she led him through a back door. You followed, pausing for a moment at the door.

Outside was the back parking lot where you and Eddie had died. The lighting was still shit, but you’d gotten the place cleaned since you came to own it. The buzzing of the flies wasn’t nearly as loud as it had once been. It was almost a pity, really, that the pathetic attempted date-rapist wouldn’t feel the fear you felt that night.

Oh well.

You could hear music playing from inside the bar: ‘The Chain.” Fleetwood Mac.  Perhaps it was an odd choice for a metal bar, but you didn’t mind it in the slightest. It was familiar, and it had so many memories tied to it. Besides, how could you come to mind anything when there was such a meal in front of your face?  

Your steps fell in time with the music as you stood next to Jen, taking in a very confused man who’d just been thrown to the ground. The man at your feet was a predator to be sure; one used to getting his way and hurting whoever he felt like in the process. In that moment though, he was prey.  He was a rabbit staring into the vast, waiting jaws of a much bigger, much scarier creature. Those jaws smiled, opened, and bit down.

Blood always had a different taste. The Stranger’s blood was bitter, like the drugs he used as a weapon. Your blood tasted sweet and a little spicy, like cinnamon, sugar, and cloves. This man’s blood tasted like the beer he’d been sipping inside your bar. It wasn’t the best thing you’d ever had, but it would do for your needs.

Your teeth split flesh and broke veins, and you drank down the warm liquid that spilled out. Beneath your hands, the bastard battle-jacket boy was freaking out, losing his absolute shit. You were pretty sure that he didn’t think his night would end like this.

Of course, you didn’t give a shit. You were much stronger now, so his struggling didn’t affect you that much, and his begging was met by an explanation from Jen on how exactly he’d ended up in this position. You tuned it all out, focusing instead on the blood in your mouth as the song played out.

The man fell limp in your hands, but it mattered so very little. You were too busy pulling your head away, savouring the bliss that fresh blood brought you.

Now, you didn’t kill the man. Killing people usually caused more problems than it was worth. There would be a police investigation, and you would have to cover it up, and that his poor date would probably end up with survivor’s guilt of some kind even though she didn’t deserve it. So, no, you didn’t kill him.

Instead, you shared his blood with your more monstrous employees and then left him, unconscious, in a ditch by the side of the road. Someone would find him. Eventually.

For you, though, it was time to call it a night. You returned to the bar to find your lovely staff closing up. After checking in with the bartenders (and ensuring that the leather-clad lass made it home okay) you sent everyone off for the night, ensuring them that you would be fine cleaning up on your own. With nods and smiles, everyone was on their way.

It was a strange feeling to be in the bar when it was empty. The place held so much pain in its walls that you could practically hear the screams if you were quiet for long enough. The suffering was palpable here, in the mirror behind the bar, and in each and every table and chair. Hopefully, under your control, things would change.

For the moment, though, you decided that music would cover up the screams well enough- like patching up walls with Mud (which is, very much, a real product you can patch walls with.) With a bit of a flourish, you turned the bar’s sound system back on. Broom in hand, you swayed around, cleaning to a very familiar song and successfully keeping the memories away.

[pokimoko]

For the ask game May I ask: 18, 22, and 35? Love u bird overlord you make me toss my marbles into the sea everytime I read one of your creations💖

Hello my favourite bird underling! Lovely to see you pop by. :D Let's answer some queries! 18. Do I enjoy research? DO I ENJOY RESEARCH???? YES! I love researching! I will spend hours just researching for fics (even if, ahem, that researching is just watching movies and shows that relate to the fic's concept) because I like using those little details to enhance the story itself or alternatively as a source of inspiration. As for which story required the most research, that would definitely have to be I've Heard That Song Before. For that one fic, I ended up researching *deep breath* Hungarian geography and history, 1940s culture (predominantly music), Marvel comic lore, WW2 history, 1940s military letters and equipment, baseball, national parks, swing dancing, Russian poetry and history, Pluto (my beloved), Jewish culture and writings, Roma culture, Greek mythology, and just a whole bunch of other things. I ended up having History Notes at the end of every chapter because of all the research I did for that story, because I just wanted to share all the cool and important things I learnt during the writing process. So yeah, research is a friend of mine. I think every fic deserves at least some research. 22. When do I title fics during the writing process? Hm. It depends. I usually have an idea in mind before I start a fic, and sometimes that sticks for the whole thing (like perilune, which was a word I'd been wanting to use as a fic title ever since I discovered it) but I usually go through several variations throughout the writing process until I end up with one I like and that I think fits the story best. For example, In Your Absence (Rebuilding the Memory of Goldfish Dreams) had several names, in terms of the bracket bit. It started as In Your Absence (I Will Try to Stay Present) to IYA (I'll Find My Way Back to You) to IYA (All That's Left is The Ghost of Me), which is was for a few weeks before I decided to lean on the fishbowl metaphor (and the dialogue: "I wonder what fishes dream about") and switched to IYA (Seeking the Memory of Goldfish Dreams) until finally landing on the title it is now. In the Absent Place (Listening to Silence on the Radio) started as The Absence of Others (and Why We Pretend That’s Okay), then The House We Call Home (and Why We Must Keep It Spotless), then This House of Ours (And Other Things That Don’t Exist) and quite a few other variations of these until a line of dialogue from the show 'Legion' (from 2x05: "I was in the absent place, and then I just…There she was, in the mirror, looking back at me.") inspired the first part, and the game 'Oxenfree' (which involves radios and ghosts and is just amazing) inspired the second part of the title. So to answer how I come up with names, it's a lot of experimentation and outside inspiration. 35. Can't believe you're making me decide on one fic as my favourite. Cruel of you, don't you know all of them are my babies (*pointedly not looking at my pre-2019 stuff*). I think I'll go with The Absence of Fear simply because I am so proud of how it turned out, and because of the fact it kickstarted my Moon Knight writing (and the ESOTAM series which I have loved making so much). It'll always have a special place for me for that reason. Also I wrote that baby in like 3 nights and god, I don't think I've reached that hectic pace ever since. I was a writer possessed for that story and that story alone. Ask me fanfic questions!

[inpursuitofmeaning]

August 5, 2024

Hello, there void.

Today marks a very important day—my favourite black tea (Yorkshire gold, obviously) finally arrived! What better way to celebrate than to sit on my couch, immersed in the uncanny harmony of Giabran Alcocer Idea 22 and the systematic drone of the air conditioner, and enjoy a little reading? Started reading this one book by this random bloke named Stephen King? Never heard of him. To be honest, the cover just looked cool. It’s called “On Writing”. Not sure how much there is to say “on” that; I’ve been doing it perfectly fine since I was about 5. That’s okay, Stephen; we all learn at our own pace.Maybe I could write a book—a short one, though, maybe one with pictures. Speaking of pictures, I recently added a new segment to our swank little gossip corner, aptly called “doddles.” It’s a little project I started to encourage me to start drawing again—a little bit every day! Hide your wives and children; Emily, the polymath, is on the town!

As an aside, I recently ported all of my old posts from Tumblr to Squarespace, as my newfound polymath abilities have not yet extended to custom HTML, and I couldn’t get the domain to work or, objectively more importantly, the font I wanted. As I was doing so, I came across a few posts that were probably more apt for my silly little journal, which I promptly deleted (cheating, I know). I know what youre thinking void - “What’s that?” well, before the permanence of the Internet, we had these limnic spaces of paper on the pen, where you could scribble things away from peering eyes. Not that I expect (or desire) anyone to see these posts. However, in regrettable moments of unguarded vulnerability, I may succumb to the mortifying impulse of spilling such musings here instead of my journal – alas, my tragic flaw.

In other creative news, I had the following concept for a sock puppet play.

I envision a compelling 20-minute short play featuring philosopher sock puppets engaged in a profound discussion at a bar, contemplating the existence of the ancient Greek gods and goddesses. As night falls, they undergo an Ebenezer Scrooge-like transformation, visited by long-forgotten Hellenistic sock puppet deities. In a dramatic twist of fate, the deities, desperate for worship to regain their power, attempt to curry favour with the philosopher puppets. This role reversal metaphorically deifies the main characters, illustrating the timeless cycle of corruption and power. There will be a brief intermission with refreshments.

[foxes-that-run]

Lover

A 2019 album about true love was planned since 2012.

Lover and the song Daylight were first hinted in the Red era and intended as a retrospective around Taylor’s 30th Birthday. By the time it came, Taylor was in a relationship with a deeply private person and explored more metaphorical, less diaristic storytelling which flourished in Folklore.

It shouldn't surprise that a Mastermind would have her album concepts planned several in advance. Lover was, in her mind, maybe her last popstar hurrah, ending on 'and she lived happily ever after.'

Taylor performed a live recording called 'City of Lover' which she released on 19 May 2020, the day before her anniversary with Harry Styles.

Joe and Taylor were very private, in Taylor's Lovers Lounge she said the album was always a retrospective rather than a diary (14 mins), it was never "Lover is about Joe". Though I do think the relationship is leaned into/idealised in some songs, it was also lucky timing for them. Folklore, Evermore & Midnights explore that relationship more outside of the Lover album concept.

As the body of her work grew and she prioritized sonically cohesive albums, her work after 1989 is not 'all about X', New Years Day is a clear example of a song from an earlier era.

Harry Styles certainly knew about lover, the theme, year it would come out and possibly the song Daylight years before he wrote Golden and Daylight released on Taylors 30th Birthday.

Red Liner Notes

In 2012, at the wistful age of 22 Taylor included a easter egg for the album and the song Daylight in the Red Liner notes:

“And there’s something to be proud of about moving on and realising that real love shines golden like starlight, and doesn’t fade or spontaneously combust. Maybe I’ll write a whole album about that kind of love if I ever find it but this album is about the other kinds of love that I’ve recently fallen in and out of."

Daylight

In the Lover's Lounge (3 mins) Taylor references the release timing the 13th year of her career, age 30 - certainly something the old Taylor would have a plan for. At 14 minutes she says that the album was once called Daylight and talks about the idea evolving to be broader, presumably after 7 years of maturing!

In the 13th year of my career I really wanted to do something exciting and retrospective and nostalgic. [...] I basically like to plan an album like I'm planning some type of prom or something. [...] But with this album I thought it was going to be called Daylight. And then I wrote "Lover" and I was like, "That's the title!" It's a really romantic album, but it's also an album that celebrates love in all of its complexity, not just flowers and sunshine. It's really an exploration of like, the patchwork quilt of emotions that go into any sort of love that you feel.

Turning 30 is a big deal to a popstar

Taylor shared her 30 before 30 interview and Miss Americana, (1:20) where she mused Lover could be her second last era, she says:

"We do exist in a society where women in entertainment are discarded in an elephant graveyard by the time they are 35. [...] This is probably one of my last opportunities as an artist to grasp onto that kind of success. So, I don’t know, as I’m reaching 30, I’m like, I want to work really hard while society is still tolerating me being successful."

Writing the Man is also featured in Miss Americana, to me this song is over the gendered injustice talked about there.

Her 7th Album has lots of 20's

In Harry's 2014 song I love you, performed by Alex and Sierra he wrote:

While we lay there on the soft warm ground / For a week and 13 days

Thereafter, Taylor and Harry have referred to 20 (13+7) Lover is her 7th album and continued this 20 theme:

Lover: Have I known you twenty seconds or twenty years?

It’s Nice To Have A Friend: Twenty questions, we tell the truth

Daylight: I’ve been sleeping so long in a twenty-year dark night but now I see daylight

Haylor songs on other albums also include 20's:

Out Of The Woods: Remember when you hit the brakes too soon? Twenty stitches in the hospital room

The 1: Roaring twenties, tossing pennies in the pool

Cardigan: Your heartbeat on the High Line, once in twenty lifetimes

Songs

Daylight

Me!

Lover

It's nice to have a friend

Cruel summer

Death by a thousand cuts

[thejesusmaninred]

"Man on a Whet Stone." From Mark 1: 1-3.

In 70 CE, Saint Mark-Peter turned the Spirit of God into a Christ when he wrote the first Gospel. Jesus died in 30 CE at age 35. The reasons the Gospels were written after Saul of Tarsus started the Christian faith in 53 CE is not entirely known, except Mark-Peter and Saul hated each other.

We also know as artifacts of the Jewish religion, the Gospels cannot be fully understood without a kind illumination and annotation called Kabbalah. All documents based on the Torah must default to Kabbalah in order to be properly understood.

Once again this means:

The Torah, or Hebrew Bible, can be studied in four ways, or pardes (Hebrew for "orchard"), as described in the Zohar:

Peshat: A simple or literal reading

Remez: An allegorical reading that uses hints or allusions in the text

Derash: A metaphorical reading that uses comparisons or illustrations, such as in a rabbinic sermon

Sod: A reading that explores the text's hidden meaning or mysteries, using Kabbalah

The initial letters of these words form the Hebrew word PaRDeS, which is used to describe this method of studying the Torah. In this method, the mystical sense of Kabbalah is considered to be the highest level of interpretation. 

Following is a proper interpretation of why the Spirit of God sent the First Gospel to Saint Mark:

John the Baptist Prepares the Way

1 The beginning of the good news about Jesus the Messiah,[a] the Son of God,[b] 2 as it is written in Isaiah the prophet:

“I will send my messenger ahead of you,     who will prepare your way”[c]— 3 “a voice of one calling in the wilderness, ‘Prepare the way for the Lord,     make straight paths for him.’”[

Messengers relay the information contained in the Torah to the intellect where they create a change in the substance of man. They turn him from an animal into a being that can think his way through his troubles and behave in an ethical manner towards other persons.

In this case, the Spirit attempted to intervene in between the Jewish people and the Roman Empire which refused to submit to the tenets of the Jewish religion. The Gematria confirms God was trying to reset mankind and reinstate the boundaries of his humanity:

The Number is 8945, חטדד‎‎‎, "sharpened." So Jesus the Messiah was a sharpener. Here is what this means:

"The forms ישן (ysn), שנן (snn), and שנה (snh) are closely related, and their meanings also appear to be in each other's close vicinity. Then there is the verb שנא (sane'), which looks identical to a noun derived from the verb ישן (yashen).

At the heart of all these words sits the creation of distance between elements, often preceded by a breaking apart, and followed by a removal or storage. The latter usage is demonstrated in Leviticus 26:10, where our root ישן (yashen) is used three times:

The verb ישן (yashen) means to sleep and is used in every sense of our English verb to sleep, even in its figurative meanings. The adjective ישן (yashen) means sleeping, and the nouns שנה (shena), שנא (shena') and שנת (shenat) all mean sleep.

The only odd one out is the noun ישן (yashen), which means old. BDB Theological Dictionary proposes that its original meaning may have been "withered or flabby, like a lifeless plant with top hanging down as if in sleep" (Leviticus 25:22, Isaiah 22:11). But perhaps, in the experience of the Hebrews, our verb ישן (yashen) meaning to sleep was closely akin to the verb שנה (shana III; see below), meaning to repeat.

Sleep may be the opposite of being awake, but the state of being awake consists of a vast array of impressions and actions, while the act of being asleep may be regarded as a singular event that is repeated every night.

שנא

The verb שנא (sane') is identical to the noun שנא (shena') meaning sleep, save for the symbols that at some point in the middle ages were added to the ancient Hebrew text by the Masoretes to preserve its assumed original pronunciation. Our verb שנא (sane') means to hate and is the antithesis of the verb אהב ('aheb), which means to love. This latter verb is not as emotionally charged as our English verb to love; it mostly describes a motion towards someone or something in order to acquire it, join with it or become intimately acquainted with it. Our verb שנא (sane') means precisely the opposite: a motion away from someone or something with the intent to disassociate from it and forget about it.

Our verb may describe hate between people (Genesis 26:27, Judges 11:7, Isaiah 60:15) but frequently also of YHWH towards people or some of their behaviors (Amos 6:8, Hosea 9:15, Malachi 2:16).

From this verb derive:

The adjective שניא (sani'), meaning the hated (the hated wife; Deuteronomy 21:15 only).

The feminine noun שנאה (sin'a), meaning a hating or hatred (Numbers 35:20, Deuteronomy 1:27, Proverbs 25:10).

שנה I

The verb שנה (shana I) means to change (Lamentations 4:1) or to create a difference (Esther 1:7). It may be used to indicate a change of clothes (Jeremiah 52:33), or a change of mind (Psalm 89:34). It may also denote a perversion of justice (Proverbs 31:5) or even the act of disguising oneself (1 Kings 14:2).

This verb's sole derivative is the feminine noun שנה (shana), meaning year (שנת means 'year of' and שנים means 'years'.). The temporal unit year primarily denotes the repeating cycle of seasonal change, and in plural it is used to indicate a period that spans several years (in the formula "during the years of" this or that king).

There are several expressions in the Bible that use this noun שנה (shana) to indicate a certain (prolonged) event that marks a profound change: The "year of favor" (Isaiah 61:2), the "year of release" (Leviticus 25:10, Ezekiel 46:17), the "year of Jubilee" (Leviticus 25:13), the "year of remission" (Deuteronomy 15:1), the "year of vengeance" (Isaiah 63:4).

שנה II

The meaning of root שנה (shana II) is officially obscure. BDB Theological Dictionary submits that there is an Arabic verb, which is somewhat similar to this Hebrew root, which means to shine. And in Ethiopian exists a comparable verb that means to be beautiful. A Hebrew audience, however, would probably have associations with either שנה (shana I) meaning to change, or שנה (shana III) meaning to repeat.

The sole extant derivative of our root שנה (shana II) is the masculine noun שני (shani), denoting the color scarlet. Perhaps the Hebrews figured this noun to match שנה (shana I) because cloth dipped in scarlet dye changes from being ordinary to something worthy of God's tabernacle (Exodus 26:1, 26:31). Scarlet also seemed to have symbolized the process of purification (Leviticus 14:4, Numbers 19:6), and in the case of Rahab the prostitute, showcasing scarlet meant salvation (Joshua 2:18). But why?

HAW Theological Wordbook of the Old Testament suggests that "since shani was the color of blood it would be its natural symbol in such a ceremony". But why would Israel need to symbolize blood with a dye while there was so much real blood readily available, and the dispensing of this prescribed in so much ritual? The prophet Isaiah seems to disagree with HAW as he doesn't link scarlet to blood but rather to sin: "Though your sins are as scarlet, they will be white as snow . . . " (Isaiah 1:18).

Here at Abarim Publications, we guess that a scarlet item was known as something that had changed from natural to permanently tainted, and obviously through a process of repetition. Snow, on the other hand, covers everything in minutes but is easily removed by warmth and vanishes without a further trace. Sin, Isaiah seems to say, is not an isolated event but a condition of repeated failure that leads to permanent alteration and ultimately death. Confessing sin, as Rahab did, is the first step to having this persistent dye changed into utterly elusive snow.

שנה III

The verb שנה (shana III) means to repeat or do again. It's used a dozen times, in contexts ranging from a reoccurring dream (Genesis 41:32), to men not speaking again (Job 29:22), or a fool returning to his folly like a dog to his vomit (Proverbs 26:11). Its derivatives are:

The dual masculine or feminine noun שנים (shenayim) or שתים (shetayim), meaning two. This word is used in the expected ways when the number two is expressed (Genesis 24:22, Ruth 1:19, Jeremiah 34:18), but also when items are paired or coupled (1 Samuel 23:18), when contrast or differentiation is emphasized (1 Kings 18:21), or when an indefinite small number is reflected in the construction "one or two" (Exodus 21:21). Combined with the word עשר ('eser), meaning ten, it creates the number twelve (Genesis 42:13, Exodus 28:21).

The adjective שני (sheni) or שנית (shenit), meaning second (Genesis 6:16, 2 Samuel 16:10, Malachi 2:13).

The masculine noun משנה (misneh), meaning second (Genesis 41:43), double (Genesis 43:12), or copy (Deuteronomy 17:18).

The masculine noun שנאן (shin'an), which occurs only once (Psalm 68:18), in a kind of superlative statement: "twice ten thousand". The whole statement expresses a myriad or huge number.

The name Mishnah, belonging to the Oral Law, derives from this verb.

שנן

The verb שנן (shanan) means to sharpen, and since sharpening of tools and blades was done by repeatedly stroking it across a wet-stone, the relation between this root and the previous one is overly obvious.

Our verb is mostly used for actual sharpening of arrows (Psalm 45:5, Isaiah 5:28) or swords (Deuteronomy 32:41), and twice figuratively for "sharp" tongues (Psalm 64:3, 140:3).

Our verb also serves to express the sharpening of one's children's minds by talking about the Words of YHWH at every opportunity (Deuteronomy 6:7). This also obviously relates our verb to the previous one, meaning to repeat. It may even be that the sharp tongue mentioned by the Psalmist is not so much the tongue of someone who makes a harrowing statement once, but much more of someone who keeps repeating the same insult over and over."

So God thought we were making the same mistakes over and over and sent His Son to attempt to get our heads back in the game, to create some sharper tools for the fight against permanent alterations to manking and untimely death. The etymology also suggests Jesus was a man of the red cloth, a purifier sent to invoke passion for the cause of all mankind. Ultimately, the impetus for the first Gospel is as the description says, "a change of clothes, a change of mind, a disguise sent to means to help man shine, to be beautiful to be worthy of God's Tabernacle."

Given the shift from usual interpretations of the purposes of the Christ the above suggests a thorough recast of the rest should be done. The world has been led astray, and it is time it was given the truth about the Gospels and the rest of the contents of the New Testament.