#newer ones I've just had no reason to open up so that's the only reason I haven't tho I should probably do some cleaning

[moghedien]

honestly I encourage everyone to get comfortable opening up their electronics. game consoles. computers. phones. keyboards. headphones. whatever. like obviously don't start with the most difficult thing to open up and don't just mindlessly pop open something and lose all the screws and don't do it while its on. but get comfortable looking inside your stuff yourself

its not hard to open up most electronics that don't have an apple logo on them (and even a lot of those are easier than you'd think) and it DOES NOT VOID YOUR WARRANTY.

Companies will try to scare you from learning how to care for your own stuff because they get money that way. Warranty stickers are technically illegal in the US but just isn't enforced, and a company can't actually void your warranty if you repair something yourself, so long as you don't break something else in the process.

like I look at threads all the time where people express fear about just opening up a console and looking at the internals to see which version they have but don't be! its easy, its safe, its free! get comfortable with your electronics and learn how to clean and repair stuff yourself, it isn't scary, companies just want you to think it is!

[the-lost-kemetic]

Red Flags In Pagan Circles

I've seen a lot of younger, inexperienced members of the pagan (and witchy!) communities fall into some traps set up for them by people who wish to harm them. It saddens my heart to see this happen, as a lot of newer practitioners join these circles so they can learn! And because they're new, they often get taken advantage of.

So I'm creating this non-comprehensive list of some red flags in pagan and witch circles. Again, this isn't comprehensive. I will be updating this as time goes by, so I recommend checking in on this. For each red flag, I'll give a brief explanation as to why it's a red flag. As always, feel free to add your own in the replies and I'll add them to this post!

EDIT: 11/15/2022 - since there's been some people misunderstanding some of the things in this post, I've rewritten a lot of it so hopefully it makes more sense! Apologies to any confusion that's been caused. I also added some of the additions people have reblogged as well!

Usage of the terms "black" and "white" magic:

While this doesn't always mean someone is racist or xenophobic, within occult spaces there's this tendency to use this. The association of darkness/black things being evil isn't always a racist thing (we as humans are naturally afraid of the dark), but it did play a part in the Atlantic slave trade by associating dark skin with animalistic, evil ambitions and light skin as being pure and good. This isn't 100% a red flag, but it's good to keep an eye out when it is used! Another issue is that "black magic" was often used to refer to African traditional magic. It's why you'll often see hoodoo and voodoo portrayed as evil.

Argues that anyone can practice whatever they want, regardless of the status of it being closed or not:

Closed practices are closed for a reason, specifically because these practices have had their people murdered, their land stolen, and their practices made illegal for many years. The reason they are closed is so that outsiders cannot just come into their sacred spaces, take what they want, and bastardize it. The belief that you can join these closed practices without being initiated/born into them is rooted in colonialism and racism. This is one of the biggest red flags. Some examples of closed practices are hoodoo, ATRs, Native American beliefs, brujeria, and santeria. Some plants are closed as well, so please do your due diligence.

The belief in folkism/volkism: that open pantheons should only be worshiped by those with their blood:

This is the complete opposite of the above. Open pantheons are open because they have not been passed down to us in a single line, and they are currently being revived. As such, these practices can't really be "closed". People who argue that open pantheons should only be worshiped by those with their blood are partaking in the same beliefs as Neo-Nazis. Please watch out for this especially in heathen/Nordic spaces! These people ARE NAZIS. The specific dogwhistle here is "go back to your roots". (Thank you to @chrisasiaheartman)

Offers to teach advanced practices (baneful magic, deity work, etc.) to newcomers:

It's true that everyone is on different parts of their practice, and not everyone will progress the same way. However, there are certain practices that newcomers should not be doing until they have the basics down. This includes baneful magic and deity work, as you can open yourself up to disastrous consequences if you don't take the proper precautions. This isn't too much of a red flag as often the people doing this do mean well, but it's still something to look out for.

They use the terms "witchcraft" and "Wicca" interchangeably:

They are not interchangeable! Witchcraft is a practice, and Wicca is a religion. These types of people often believe you must be Wiccan to practice witchcraft, which you don't.

They refer to Wicca as an "ancient" religion:

This is false. Wicca was founded in the 1960s. If they do this, it could either be tongue-in-cheek, or it's just blatant misinformation. I would be careful.

They act as though baneful magic is evil.

It isn't. Baneful magic can be a form of protection and self-defense, it is not always a bad thing.

They act as though the "threefold law" is the end-all-be-all of practicing:

Not every witch believes in the threefold law, nor are you required to. This goes back into my point about them believing you must follow Wiccan teachings to practice witchcraft. You don't, period.

The use of racial or cultural slurs, even if they claim it's in a non-discriminatory way:

They are racist. If they're mentioning these slurs in an educational way, that's fine. But if a witchcraft space is just dropping these slurs casually in speech, it's a good sign of them being racist.

They push a specific diet:

You don't need to eat vegan or vegetarian to be a witch. No one has to. Some witches might think that's the best way to practice, and that's fine! Some witches might not subscribe to that idea, and that's fine too!

They push pseudoscience and/or anti-science ideologies (anti-vax, etc.):

This is extremely dangerous. Witchcraft and science can work together just fine. People have done this for so long, and pushing these ideologies can be extremely dangerous to peoples' personal health.

Enforcement of gender binaries:

This is things like the divine "masculine" and divine "feminine". Often times these people will also claim that the womb/uterus should be worshipped as well, and the people who do this are often TERFs/transphobic. Not everyone neatly fits into a gender binary. (Thank you to @hagstone-enthusiast for this!)

They promote the idea that only witches can be female, or that male witches are called warlocks:

Witches can be any gender, and the term warlock is actually derogatory as it means someone broke their oath.

Promotes the idea that mentally ill/neurodivergent witches that that way because they have a strong intuition:

This is very dangerous because being neurodivergent/mentally ill isn't a special thing, and it often is a detriment to many people. People who claim this often believe in indigo children/starseed children. In addition, look out for people to claim that neurodivergent people are that way because they "don't have a position attitude" (thanks to @urchinbeans5000).

[bettyfrommars]

don't say you need me (it's understood)

vampire!steve x deliveryDriver!fem!reader

summary: you are a delivery driver who gets extra hazard pay to bring blood to the vampires of Crimson Alley, but this time, you get up the nerve to ask Steve for something you have always wanted. This story has a surprise ending and an appearance from vampire!eddie. Steve is not a typical vampire. Slightly True Blood au. wc:6.3k

18+ONLY, mature themes, Steve is a vampire but he is also something else, reader's first time feeding a vampire, smut, drinking blood, sensitive!steve, lovesick!steve, monsterfucking, doordash delivery for vampires, oral for all, reader wears a sportsbra, unprotected p in v, creampie, self-inflicted knife wound.

author's note: I've had this one in my wip's for a while, and it was going to drive me crazy if I didn't finish it. My Steve fics rarely see the light of day, but I can't stop writing them for some reason. This is my last little detour before I go back to working on my other series. Or, until I get distracted again, which will probably be in two minutes.

Part 2 smut extra Wolf Moon

Part 3 fluff request

The way you earned money lately was not your dream job, but it paid the bills.  Food delivery was a necessary evil with your life being as chaotic as it was.  The particular app you worked for paid better than the rest because of the “hazard pay” you accrued for some of the deliveries that required more “risk”.

The risk in question had you delivering blood to the local vampire population, most of which lived in a particular section of the city called Crimson Alley.  It wasn’t just an alley; there were apartment buildings and a long street full of picket fence houses, all with heavy, black out curtains over them during the day.  

One minute, you’re leaving tofu Pad Thai on someone’s doorstep, and the next—-you’re casually dropping off a grocery bag full of type O.  

It was dark, of course, when you made your final delivery before clocking out.  You took on as many deliveries to Crimson Alley as the app would allow, mostly because you needed the money, but also—you weren’t afraid of death.

Most of the vampire clients who signed up for deliveries on the app were decent, law abiding ghouls, but there had been two noted incidents where the vampire in question only wanted a live human to feed on, and ended up draining the delivery driver before disappearing into the night.

You told yourself they were just rumors, but also, you spent quite a bit of time ruminating on what the sensation of fangs breaking your skin would feel like.

The receipt stapled to the front of the paper bag from the blood bank said Harrington, and you matched it with the information on your phone before making your way up the sidewalk.  It was an old, vintage building with renovated apartments inside, and so you punched in the alarm code from the notes in your phone, waited for the beep, and then made your way up to C5.

Two female vampires were just leaving as you stepped into the foyer, and they seemed to be dressed for a night on the town.  You jumped back to make room for them, and they excused themselves with a laugh and a wave, fangs exposed, as if they were any other living humans going out for drinks. That was the great thing about vampire specific blood banks and the recently invented blood substitutes; fed vampires, for the most part, were happy vampires.  Sure, there were those who still lusted after the chase and the thrill of the kill, but most of the newer vampires were surprisingly chill.  

The customer requested that you hand the delivery directly to them, which meant you had to knock instead of just dropping it at the door and bolting.  

But, as your finger rose to touch the doorbell, the door opened, yanking back into the apartment so fast, and you scrambled back, startled, testing the handle of the bag with your vise grip.

“Oh, shit, sorry,” the vampire said, smiling around his fangs, wearing Wayfarer sunglasses even though it was dark outside.  “I didn’t mean to scare you, my bad.”

“You didn’t scare me,” you stiffened, shaking your head, hoping that was the correct answer, since the customer is always right.  

In the next few heartbeats, the two of you looked over each other.  Your vampire customer had a full head of lush, dark hair, just long enough to tuck behind his ears, and a solid, muscular frame.  He had on a white shirt that was of little contrast to his pale skin, rolled up to the elbows and unbuttoned to expose a swatch of chest hair, black pants that made it look like he was getting ready to go somewhere fancy, and a pinky ring with what looked like a skull on it.  He smelled like sandalwood and vanilla tobacco, and your mouth produced an overabundance of saliva that made you swallow and choke a bit.

Steve liked what he saw so much that he didn’t want to remove his sunglasses, so that he could continue to look you over without you seeing his eyes move.  But, eventually, he did, sliding them up on top of his head, clearing his throat.

“Harrington,” he said, leaning against the door frame, forgetting why he was about to leave the apartment in the first place. “That’s me, I’m Steve.”

You introduced yourself, and then lifted the bag up in the space between the two of you. “Would you like me to set this by the door, or—?”

“Oh, damn, yeah, of course,” he chuckled fondly to himself, as if remembering a private joke.  “I can—yeah, sure, here—I’ll take it.”

You passed it off and he opened it to look inside as if he didn’t know what he’d ordered.  

“Alright,” you backed up, offering a low wave.  “I guess I’ll be going,then? As long as everything looks okay.”

“Sure,” Steve said, uncertain, still staring into the bag.  You turned on your heel to head for the stairs. “But, wait—” he called after you.

You spun around to face him, rubbing your lips together, wondering if you were crazy, or if the vampire was trying to flirt with you.

Steve held the bag with one hand and let it fall to his side while his other hand shoved into his front pocket, smirking at you in a way that screamed trouble.  “Would you like to meet up later? After your shift? For a drink, or something?”

Or something.

This wasn’t a good idea, you told yourself, as you turned around to accept his invitation.  

“I’m free right now,” you told him.

—-------

Steve didn’t have a plan; he just knew he didn’t want you to go.

“Were you about to leave?” You asked, gesturing to his outfit as you accepted his invitation inside the apartment.  

“Nowhere…special,” Steve looked you up and down again, forgetting that his sunglasses weren’t covering his eyes.   He was about to go and meet up with his friend Eddie, but he’d shoot him a text real quick and let him know he got “caught up”.  Eddie had canceled on him at the last minute more times than he could count, so his conscience was clear.  

Steve had eclectic taste, and the first thing you noticed was the Depeche Mode poster on the wall, along with some original art, oil abstracts, and there was a retro sense to the place: a boombox from the 80’s, a panasonic tv/vcr combo on a stand in the corner and a 1960’s wicker rattan chair with a big, dark blue cushion.  He had a large collection of vinyl in vintage, wood apple crates stacked up the wall, and a yellow kitchen table set that looked like it was right out of the 1950’s.  

You turned to ask him a question, but he was right there on your heels, and your chests pressed into each other, your noses almost bumping, and that was when you took a closer look at his fangs.  They weren’t long, obnoxious fangs like in the movies, and could almost pass for normal, albeit extra sharp incisors, but for the way they extended down further than the rest of his perfect teeth.  

“Do you ever accidentally—” you motioned to your own tooth, tapping it.

“Bite my own lip? All the time,” he gave a snort.  “My tongue too, and it fucking sucks.”

He offered you a beverage and you were surprised to find out he had human food there.  

“I have several human friends. I cook for them sometimes too,” he assured you from the kitchen which was around the corner. He carried the grocery bag of blood in to pour some out for himself, and then you heard the top pop off a beer.  But then he peeked his head around the corner, raising his eyebrows at you. “Did you think all vampires were hermits that just hung out with each other in a cave somewhere? Like in The Lost Boys?”

You put your hands in your back pockets and went over to take a closer look at the bat with nail spikes through it that was mounted like a trophy above his stereo system.  He came out carrying a wine glass full of a deep claret liquid, and handed you the beer, gesturing to the futon with his elbow.

He’d only known you for a few minutes and he already wanted to kiss you.  He could see the heartbeat in your throat from where he sat, and he wanted to take a sip from your lifeforce and then kiss you with his bloody lips, smearing it down your chin.  He couldn’t smell any other man or partner on you, but he also couldn’t let you walk out and be with someone else; he was actively attaching to the scent of your blood, and if you stayed any longer, he’d have to do something about it.  

You took a few gulps of your beer, thinking that if you didn’t make you move, you’d lose your nerve.  A chance to be consensually bitten by a vampire did not come around as often as people would think.  Especially for the modern vamps of today who’d been following a set of rules for decades.  Most vampires had specific humans they “bonded” with, be it a familiar or a partner, or they ingested a specific type from the blood bank or blood substitute.  Vampires were very finicky creatures, and the blood had to taste good in order for them to want to ingest it.  The way it tasted had to do with a certain mix of hormones and chemistry, you really had no clue.

After a bit of small talk about where you came from, and how long Steve had been a vampire—he was turned in 1996 by an ex he didn’t want to talk about—you set your empty beer down on the rectangular wood coffee table and sat back.

“So,” you bobbed your head a few times.  “Here we are.”

“Yes,” he inclined his glass to you, taking the last sip of his Type O claret. “Cheers to us.”

And then, there was silence, but for the sound of people chatting out in the hall, the low hum of the Depeche Mode song It’s no Good, and your heartbeat in your ears.

But then, you just blurted it out, and Steve started to talk at the same time.

“How would you feel if I asked you to—”

“I have to confess that I—”

You licked your lips.  “You go first,” you said on a nervous exhale, fiddling with the arm of the futon.

“No, you—please,” Steve sank down and rested his head on the back of the cushion, his gaze lingering on you in a way that made your cheeks hot.  You couldn’t help but notice the bulge in his pants was abnormally large even though it wasn’t even erect.

This was crazy, what were you even doing in his apartment? Your friends would be screaming obscenities at  you if they knew, telling you to pull out your colloidal silver mace spray and run.  But yet, all of  your blood seemed to be tickling at the surface of your skin, wanting to escape.

You turned in your seat and Steve’s eyes followed your movements, watching how you bent your knee up and scooted towards him..

“Here’s the thing,” you cleared your throat, finding your words.  “I’ve never been bitten before, by, you know, a vampire, but I’d really love to know what it feels like.  I fantasize about it, sometimes.”

In an unexpected turn of events, Steve abruptly got to his feet, mumbling, “not another one,” as he put his back to you and rolled his head from side to side, walking away.

“Wait,” you stood up too. “What do you mean, ‘not another one’? Do delivery drivers normally show up here asking you to bite them?”

When he faced you, his eyes were full of weary disappointment.  “I’m not turning you, okay? I will never turn anyone as long as I exist,” and then he rounded the corner into the kitchen and you heard the wine glass drop into the sink.  

“Hold on,” you followed, coming up behind him as he bent forward to brace his hands on the countertop.  He appeared so suddenly distraught, your hand hovered at his lower back for a while, wondering if you should touch him, and then you finally did—feeling his cold skin through his shirt like winter marble.  

You made a few comforting circles with your palm, and he let you, secretly closing his eyes at the soothing nature of your touch.  

“Hey,” you whispered.  “I don’t want to be a vampire.  And even if I did, I would never want to put that on you, a complete stranger.”

This admission made him stand, and you watched the way the ends of his hair caught on the collar of his shirt, shoulder blades flexing under the material.

You rested your hip by the sink, eyeing his back muscles.  “I’m kind of embarrassed now, that I admitted that to you,” you laughed a little then, at yourself, at the situation, looking down at your nails.  Could you have fucked this up any harder? 

You barely had time to register that he had turned around and was coming toward you, it all happened in a human blink. But then he had your back pressed flush against the wall by the fridge, one hand cupped your throat while the other pinned your hip.  It knocked the air out of you, but it also turned you on, and he returned your stare with a flicker of uncertainty.  Silky brown eyes that seemed to go ink black as the pupils expanded.

He brought his cheek down, rubbing it against yours, inhaling the scent of your hair, his words a tight whisper at your ear.  “Why do you want me to hurt you?”

“I-I don’t want that,” you stammered, knees wobbling as he sniffed along the side of your face and down your neck; his skin was cold and it made  your nipples hard.  “I just want to know what it feels like to be…needed like that.”

Steve snapped his head up to look at you; brows clenched, cherry lips parted.  The urge to taste you, to feast on you, had him questioning almost a decade of sobriety from using his fangs to feed.  His teeth ached, his stomach growled.  The light in the kitchen was on, and aside from a lamp in the living room and the street lights from outside, the rest of the apartment was dark.

Steve nudged your nose with his; lips an inch or two away from yours.  “Maybe…just a taste.”

You lifted your chin to kiss his pouty lips, but he pulled back.  “We can’t do that, though.  We can’t kiss.”

You searched his eyes, confused.  

Steve released your throat, and the tension of the moment subsided.  “It’s too…intimate.  I can’t risk an attachment to a complete stranger.” You could tell he was using your words against you, and you wondered why that description bothered him so much.  You were both, indeed, strangers, and you didn't know how else to categorize him.

“I want it to be a good experience, though,” he hushed, taking your hand, guiding you back out to the living room. “It’s the least I can do.”

He told you to wait there while he got a towel from the closet; he didn’t want blood on his new futon.  If only you knew how many offers like this he’d turned down in his life; if only you knew how nervous he was to break this seal with you.

“Should I lay down or sit up?” You asked.  Your mind was having a hard time registering that this was actually happening.  

Steve came back and plopped down onto the squishy futon.  His shirt was off, and your eyes locked on the patch of chest hair over his milk white skin.  “It’s less messy this way,” he gestured to his bare chest, and then he raised an eyebrow, his face serious.  “Are you comfortable straddling my lap?”

“Facing you?” 

Steve dropped his shoulders, giving you a look, and then he patted the cushion on either side of him.

You were about to drop your knee down to do as he suggested.  

“Oh wait,” he stopped you, giving you an open, earnest expression.  “Do you want to take your shirt off?  It might get blood on it. It’s been a while since I’ve done this.”

You looked down at your shirt.  It was a vintage concert tee, and you didn’t want to risk it. “Um, yeah, okay,” you had a sports bra on underneath, so this was fine.  

Steve watched you remove your shirt with a hitch in his chest, but then looked down when you finished and tossed it over the chair.  

You climbed on top of him, bracing your hands on his shoulders.  “You’re so cold,” you observed.  “You make me want to get you a blanket.”

“You’re all the warmth I need,” he muttered, shifting as your core settled above his cock, his hands tentative at your hips. 

“Listen, it’s probably going to sting, or hurt, even,” he coached, watching the plump artery in your throat.  “But once I start drinking, your endorphins take over and it should feel…good, in a way.”

You nodded, pushing your shoulders back.

“Now, come forward,” he continued, pulling you close so that the two of you were skin on skin, his fingers spread out on your back.  “And tilt your head to the side, just like that.”

Steve’s mouth watered as he took in the sight of your neck so exposed to him, like an offering.  It reminded him of way back when he used to confuse the gift of blood as a form of love.  Back when he was naive and bursting with wet dreams about a home and a family and one love forever.

A few seconds passed and your chin rested on the cool muscles of his shoulder.  You could feel his breath on your skin, tingly like wintermint gum.  

“Should I count down?” He asked.

“No, I’m fine,” you returned with an edge of irritation. “Whenever you’re ready.”

You adjusted yourself in his lap and it made his cock throb, and now he was nervous that you could tell how aroused he was.  It’s been a while since he drank from someone he wasn’t in love with, and his cock assumed it was its turn to get involved too.

You felt his lips tremble on your flesh as he brushed over the spot. 

“Okay, here we go,” he mumbled. Steve’s stomach growled again as he made “O” with his mouth over your big, thumping artery, swiping his tongue a few times over your salty barrier.

But then his teeth broke the surface, making you choke and clutch his arm.

It did hurt, in the same way thorns from a rose bush hurt, and your adrenaline surged, preparing your body for fight or flight, but Steve’s arms were strong, and now they had you caged in a vice grip.

The sweet hesitancy of consent was gone now that he knew the honey nectar in your veins.

Now, his animal urges made him growl as he drank from you; whimpering, even, when he felt you ease into it, shifting to be closer to him.

There were only a few seconds of that sharp pain, but then as he sucked, you felt your pussy flutter and bloom—a reaction that you had not expected.  You closed your eyes, vibrating, leaning into each pull, turned on more and more by his wanton need for you. A trickle of blood trailed down along your breast and it made your skin raise with gooseflesh.  

Steve jerked his mouth away with a gasp after about a minute, breathless.  He looked at the dripping fang marks in your neck, and then, without thinking, he kissed you there. He released his double arm lock on you and held your upper arms, his forehead dropping to your shoulder.

“Fuck,” be breathed.  “That was so good.” 

“You can have…more,” you whispered, keeping your head tilted to the side.  

Steve swallowed hard: the temptation was real. “I can’t,” he managed.  “I’m afraid I’ll take too much.”

You wanted to cry out in disappointment, to beg for more.  But then, Steve picked up the towel and started wiping you off. He pricked his finger to heal the fang holes with his blood and you felt a sizzle as they closed up and vanished.

You couldn’t look at him right away, but when you finally did—you saw the trickles of your life force in the corners of his mouth and the strawberry wine tinted hue of his lips. His cinnamon brown eyes that had somehow turned hazel  Your need was too great, and before you could stop yourself, you were leaning forward to flick your tongue out to taste the evidence of his feast.

Steve turned his head and that was when you remembered the rule: no kissing.  He was the Julia Roberts Pretty Woman version of vampires.  

But a  twitch of his cock against your inner thigh from inside his jeans betrayed him. 

“Oh, fuck it,” he hissed, acquiescing to his own desires, holding the back of your head to find your mouth.  He kissed you deep, without any hesitation.  It was innocent and urgent, like a man who had been starving in many different ways for a long time.

The taste of your blood in his mouth had your eyes rolling back in your head.  There was something about the closeness of it; the way he received nourishment from you.  You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him back, not paying any attention to the way your hips were grinding into him.

“Wait,” there was a smacking noise as Steve pulled his mouth away. He ran the back of his fingers down your cheek.  “Do you want this? Do you want…me?”

Your lips throbbed and felt bruised, and you nodded, unable to form words.

Steve would regret this the next day, he knew he would.  He wasn’t one of those people who could do casual intimacy like Eddie and Argyle.  He wondered if he was hypnotized by your blood, wondered if maybe he’d see clearer in the morning.  But right then, he didn’t care.

You crossed your arms over yourself and pulled your sports bra off, watching Steve’s breath catch at the sight of your nipples. He took one in his mouth, swirling his tongue, moaning as he did so, and you flexed your hips against him. His sucking popped off as your mouth went to his neck; you didn’t kiss him, you just planted your lips there and said:

“I love knowing my blood is inside of you.”

And for some reason—that was it for Steve.  

He gasped, clamping his hands onto your thighs, locking you in place. “Wait…fuck…oh shit—”

You felt him tremble and arch his pelvis up, his hips stuttered, and then his head dropped to your arm with a strangled cry.  

“Hold on…did you just?”

“I’m afraid so,” Steve admitted with a tight, aggravated sigh.  “Excuse me while I—”

He motioned for you to move out of his lap, but you stayed there, lowering your head to find his eyes.  “Can I clean you up?”

Steve shifted, feeling embarrassed and a little uncomfortable, about to decline your offer, but then you were sliding down between his legs, pushing them wider with your shoulders.  Your attention went to unbuckling his belt and zipper, but then your eyes flicked up to meet him, hovering there.

“What are you doing?” He asked softly, lifting his hips when you needed to scoot his jeans and red boxers down.  You saw the wet spot where his tip had exploded and the dark hair around the base of his cock.  You grabbed onto his length to bring it out of hiding and Steve shivered.

“You don’t have to—” but your lips were already on the fat, sticky tip, licking down the vein and the excess that dribbled down his shaft.  His cum didn’t really have a taste—it reminded you of something with a clear flavor, like glycerine.  He was semi-hard now; caught between being done and getting excited again.  He threw his head back onto the couch, exposing his throat to the ceiling, Adam’s apple jerking as he swallowed back a whimper.

His hips bucked up when you took the tip to the back of your throat, and Steve’s fingers dug into the couch, wondering if he should touch you.  “Do you like the way I taste?” He asked in a hush.

You nodded, meeting his gaze again, kissing the head of his cock.  “I want more.”

Steve leaned down to grab your face with both hands and coaxed you back up into his lap for another depraved kiss; moaning into each dive of your tongue.

“It’s my turn,” he said with a crooked grin, rubbing his nose on yours, and then he flipped you over with surprising strength.  You pushed your jeans down as he pulled them, yanking the denim all the way off your feet.  They landed inside out in a crumpled pile nearby.   He kissed down your breasts, your stomach, flicking his devilish tongue along the soft curve of your hip.  

Your legs stretched out to meet the width of his strong shoulders, cursing when his tongue licked a stripe up and down your slit a few times. When his mouth pulled away, there was a string of saliva connecting you to his chin, and he found your eyes before he moved to taste you again.

He lifted your thighs up off the couch—god, he was so strong—and licked down even further, until his tongue fluttered at your tight muscle back there, making both holes clench.  Your torso was almost bent in half when he looked up at you over your pussy.  “Do you like that?”

“Don’t stop Steve, please,” you gushed.

He took that as a yes, smiling to himself, continuing to work you over in that spot.

He lowered you and moved up to suck your clit and sank two fingers in a little too fast, making you tighten up for a moment.  “Shit, your fingers are so big.”

He made a guttural growl, staring at the way his fingers stretched you, and it sounded so unlike the noises he made thus far, it made your eyes snap open.

“More,” you gasped, taking his head in your hands.  Your fingers threaded through his hair that was a bit crunchy from styling product.

He slipped a third finger in and your cunt pulsed around him, making his cock get stiff and leaky again. “Fuck, you’re going to take my cock so good.”

The throb of the artery in your inner thigh caught his attention and so—that was all he could think about.

His fingers went in to the last knuckle, and twisted them a few times.

Your jaw went slack with a moan.  You watched his mouth lift off an inch so that he could stare at the spot just below the curve of your hip.  You could almost hear his thoughts, they were so loud, and the thought of him feeding on you again made  your cunt tighten like a fist.  

“Fuck, Steve, please do it,” you whined, squirming.  “Take more of my blood.”

Steve felt like a man out of control. Like the vehicle had already flown off the cliff, but he was still trying to work the break and steer.  There was no hope for him now—he might as well release his grip on the wheel.

His fingers curled up inside you as his fangs nipped at your tender flesh, toying with you.  When his his sharp teeth finally sank in, he didn’t give a shit about staining the couch or his clothes—he didn’t care if you could tell how much he fucking loved this.

When his mouth locked onto you, your pussy clenched around his fingers, and you were whimpering, clutching the back of his head, encouraging him, “moremoremore.” 

Steve had to push himself off of you with all of his strength, sending the couch sliding back a few inches with you on it, knocking over a table and a lamp that went crashing to the ground.  Your flesh was still leaking as he stumbled back, breathing quick and heavy, mouth and chin wet from his meal. His jeans were still down his hips a bit and his cock curved angry and sticky against his belly.

“Cover it,” he braced his hands behind him on the carpet, gesturing to your inner thigh, but you weren’t quick enough.  “Cover it now!” He barked, wincing, baring his teeth.  

You reached over for the towel and did as he asked, wrapping it around your thigh, securing it with your hand, watching whatever struggle he seemed to be having with himself.  It looked almost as if Steve was…changing? The hair on his chest and arms seemed to grow thicker right before your eyes and his jaw muscles strained as if making room for more teeth.

Once he caught his breath, his eyes locked on your cunt—so open and ready for him—and another animal growl escaped his chest.  You watched his cock twitch a few times, a sticky strand of precum connecting to his stomach.

No words were needed as he grabbed you by the crook of your knees and yanked you off the couch.  You yelped only because his movements were so fast and your lower back skidded on the rug, but you were equally opening yourself up wider for him, spreading your knees out.  

He knelt before you, chest hairier than ever, and his eyes flicked red for a moment.  He stretched his thick cock down along your slick and with one thrust, buried himself to the hilt, making you both throw your heads back with a cry.  

“Fuck,” you wanted him deeper, you wanted all of it.  Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes from the size.  He put one hand at your shoulder and one at the crease of your thigh and began to pound you onto his cock as if you were a toy.  Your breasts bounced and you kept eye contact with him as your jaw went slack, feeling a mounting orgasm already teasing in your core.

Steve’s hands no longer resembled the hands of a man; they were completely covered in hair now with curved claws. Honey brown fur covered his flesh entirely, and his nose was more of a snout as his eyes bore into you, burning an orange red.  His mouth was wider, teeth bigger and sharper as he revealed them to you in a sneer; his tongue lolling out thick and sharp.

You were not afraid though, and he could see it in the way you regarded him, as if the change had not taken place at all.   Your curiosity was piqued, but you were not disgusted, nor did you look away.

The curse, it was real.  He had not dared to tempt it for so long, thought maybe he had outrun it, but now he was mating you and he didn’t know how to stop.

You didn’t want him to stop. You wondered if maybe this was what happened when some vampires had sex—you’d never tried it before.

His strong, animal hips slammed against you; muscular, hairy legs splitting his jeans open so the seams ripped to accommodate his size.

“Steve, I’m gonna cum,” you gasped, brushing your fingers over your clit.

Monster Steve’s movements sped up and got erratic as you screamed his name again and the fire in your belly swelled to your entire body, exploding like firecrackers behind your eyes.  

Steve barked and locked you up against him, balls deep, as his cock pumped everything he had inside of you; body tensing, muscles straining.   

You were both panting when your eyes found each other again.  He searched your face with his feral eyes as his cock jumped a few times inside of you.  You wondered if he had lost the ability to speak since he hadn’t said a word since the transformation. 

He unhooked his hand from your shoulder and ran a claw down your face, gently, parting your lips with it, and then drawing down your throat.

There was a knock at the door, and somewhere in the deeply muffled civilized part of Steve’s brain he thought: “Shit, I forgot to text Eddie.”

You looked around, wondering what to do, wanting to cover yourself up, and Steve pulled out of you, savoring one last look at his cum leaking out before he bolted to the fire escape window on all fours and then crouched there.  

“Steve?” Another man’s voice came from the other side of the door.  “Yo Steve man, what gives? I waited at the bar for like two hours.”  He knocked on the door again, and then tried the knob.  “I’m going to use my spare key if you don’t answer, man.  It’s not like you not to text.”

Monster Steve growled low, staring across the room at the door, snarling like a dog.  

Getting the hint that maybe Steve didn’t want anyone to see him like that, you jumped up to find your clothes when you heard the key in the door.  You had your shirt on and were struggling to button your jeans when the door opened.  

You rushed over to greet whoever it was and found yourself face to face with another vampire, but this one had long, dark messy hair, and bangs that were too long, and a leather jacket over his Alice in Chains tee shirt.  

“Hey,” he paused, offering a confused smile to expose his fangs.  “I’m Eddie.  Is Steve here? We were supposed to meet me but he—-”

That was when Eddie caught sight of the huge, hairy monster dropping from Steve’s fire escape and into the street.

“Shit!” Eddie cursed, pushing passed you, yelling for Steve.  

You both made it to the window in time to see monster Steve bounce over the hoods of several cars like something out of a DC comic, and then bolt down an alleyway on all fours before climbing up the next building.  

Eddie turned to you, the only human in the vicinity, and cursed.  “You let him drink your blood, didn’t you?”

“Well I—” you stammered, trying to catch sight of Steve from the window again, but he was long gone.  “I-I didn’t know that vampires couldn’t—”

“Most can,” Eddie sucked in his bottom lip and put his hands on his hips, looking around.  “But not Steve.  He was already a werewolf when he was bitten and turned into a vampire, and if hybrids drink blood directly from a human, they turn into a beast, like what you saw.”  Eddie glanced down at how your jeans were unzipped, and then he quickly looked out the window again.  “Especially if there is some type of sexual act involved.”

Eddie paced back and forth in a line for a minute, wondering what he should do—-who he should call. 

You swallowed so hard there was a click in the back of your throat.  “How long will he…be like that?”

Eddie scratched his forehead, parting his bangs.  “It’s really hard to say.  Could be hours, could be weeks.  But the problem is—” Eddie trailed off, thinking about the last time this happened.  “----he’s out there all alone and there’s no way to find him or catch him.  He’s stronger than any vampire or a werewolf now.”

You told Eddie a little bit about who you were as you collected your things and went out in the hall with him so he could lock the apartment back up.  You told him that you didn’t mind waiting there, until Steve came back.  Maybe he just went for a run to stretch his monster legs?”

“That’s way too dangerous,” Eddie promised.  “Once Steve is back to Steve again, he’ll want to know I kept you away from him, that I kept you from danger,” he walked you out of the complex and down to your car.  “The smartest thing you can do right now, sweetheart, is go home and wait for things to go back to normal.  I’m sure he’ll call you when he returns to himself.”

You thanked him and shook his hand, even though you knew Steve didn’t have your number.

You had a plan you thought might work even better.

Once you got back to your place, you showered, cleaned up the sticky trail of Steve’s cum down your inner thigh, and then wrapped a towel around you and went to the kitchen to find a sharp knife.

You went out to your modest balcony on the 6th floor of your building, and blinked against the breeze as a hand-shaped cloud circled the moon.  The stars were bright and the air smelled of honeysuckle, and you held the blade of the knife tight before yanking it through your grip.

It slit the flesh of your palm like butter, and you bit your lip against the pain.  You squeezed your fist in the air—a summoning on the wind—and watched the dark red flow trickle down your forearm.

You let it drip onto the railing, all along the cement ledge, and then left the sliding door open and made a trail of droplets on the floor to your bedroom.

And then, you waited.  

[kanonavi]

Something that will never cease to rot my brain is just how brilliantly mhy have developed Xiao's character over the past three years. I'm lucky enough to have started playing Genshin before he was added to the game (which does of course mean newer players have probably had a different experience of him, I'll get into that later) so I've been there for every single moment that Xiao appeared and it's always so amazing to me just how much effort has been put into him. (Long rant and Mild Spoilers for the Poetry Gala Event below lol)

Xiao in the Archon quest and in 1.3 (both in his character quest and 1.3 Lantern Rite) compared to Xiao in the most recent event is truly like night and day, and what's most impressive about that is that how he acts in the poetry event feels completely true to his character. Xiao has earned this gentleness over the past three years, as the traveler but also the other people he's met have urged him to open up and interact with others more often.

This really couldn't have been achieved without mhy taking advantage of every scrap of screen time Xiao has gotten. They absolutely have favorites and Xiao is for sure one of them. I'll use Moonchase as a comparison to the Poetry Gala. Back then we saw Xiao on screen for maybe 5 minutes at most, appearing because the traveler called him, tasting Xiangling's dish and giving her a compliment (at least for his standards for giving compliments) and then disappearing. But now we see him at the poetry event being invited to join by Venti and Hu Tao (and him not outright refusing!!), and then staying to socialize with Chongyun's group when everyone (not just the traveler) asks him to.

3.4 Lantern Rite and the Poetry Gala have felt like the biggest steps due to the fact that we see Xiao actively participating in activities of his own volition. Most of his appearances before 3.4 (and even after, counting Baizhu's quest) are dictated by about 2.5 factors. The first is his duty: protecting Liyue from evil, more specifically keeping its people safe from these evils. The second is being called by the traveler, an act which I would consider a symbol of their friendship later on, but in the beginning and probably still in a lingering capacity now I think can be attributed to a sense of debt towards them. They helped save Liyue in a time of crisis, after having no obligation to do so, and someone like Xiao who takes his duties in protecting Liyue so seriously would absolutely feel like he owes a complete outsider like the traveler a debt after they kinda did his job for him. So much of Xiao's character is about debts, after all. That even ties into the 2.5th reason, where he would probably feel some obligation to appear at Lantern Rite because Zhongli would be there, though it's unclear if Hu Tao mentioned he would be so it might not even count in that case.

Now we see Xiao participating in events on the invitation of Hu Tao and Venti who are seeking him out because they see him as a friend. We see him taking not only the traveler's feelings into account when asked to participate, but also Chongyun and Diona's. It's such a far cry from his "I don't associate with mortals" attitude that we saw back in 2021.

That barely even touches the shift we've seen in his demeanor either. Back in 2021, Xiao always spoke very curtly and in as few words as possible, always seeming displeased any time he had to hold a conversation, but now he's loosened up so much that the difference is honestly staggering. It even shows through in his birthday letters from 2021 vs. 2023 (And even here we see him going out of his way to socialize of his own volition, so proud of him!):

I've gone back and forth between EN and CN voiceovers in the past year, so some of Xiao's appearances I've only experienced in CN, but hearing him in the Poetry Gala event in EN I can only give his voice actress a thousand kudos for how amazing her performance is. Xiao's voice has softened with time, and it's such a small detail, but I honestly think that it's what hammers his growth home more than anything else for me. He's not only willing to have full conversations with people he's less familiar with now, but he also doesn't feel the need to speak as harshly to them either, and that's really amazing to hear play out in the game.

Xiao's voicelines are so fascinating to me for that very reason, because they act as a time capsule for how he was back in 2021, and that's just not what he sounds like anymore. Obviously, voice actors' performances of their characters will shift with time but Xiao is the only character for which I can say that his demeanor really has just changed with time. Of course, I think that in some cases this does actually make sense, namely if a newer player pulls Xiao and has only gotten to experience the Archon Quest and maybe his Character Quest. In that case, all of the time that has passed simply doesn't exist. But at the same time I can only imagine how funny it would be for a long-time player who simply never pulled Xiao for one reason or another to pull him and listen to his lines and hear his older, edgier self lol

Though on that note I do also need to point out the biggest downside of all of this, and what is perhaps my greatest sadness about Xiao's character development, which is that new Genshin players simply won't have the chance to experience it. There are many characters who get the short end of the stick with the nature of Genshin's serialized storytelling and limited-time events (Albedo, Kazuha, and a plethora of 4 stars who don't get featured much, just to name a few), but I think Xiao's actually saddens me the most, because I believe the time that has passed is the greatest strength when it comes to this development. People will get to see his arc from the Archon Quest to Perilous Trail (and thank god they preserved Perilous Trail as an Interlude), but even that is still a shadow of Xiao's actual progression over the years.

These days, newer Genshin players may have only seen Xiao in the Liyue Archon Quest before playing the Poetry Gala event (unless Perilous Trail is a prereq, which I don't know off the top of my head), and I can't even imagine how jarring it would be to see how he acts there and then immediately see him in this event. The way that time works in this case would probably just make it seem like mhy doesn't know what they're doing with Xiao when in reality three years of development have been compressed into a matter of weeks. Knowing that, I'm grateful to have been able to experience his story in its truest form, but it also cannot go unacknowledged that some aspects of Genshin's story have a shorter shelf life than others. It's a major problem with the game, from some perspectives, but at the same time it's just a consequence of how it's being developed.

Anyway, I just needed to gush after seeing Xiao absolutely steal the show in part 2 of the quest with his quiet participation and little smile (crying). He's so good and I love him so much, and it's so nice to see what they've done with him after he finally got some semblance of closure after Perilous Trail <3

[undead-supernova]

I'll Pay the Price, You Won't.

It's a Delicate Need

Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5

18+ minors DNI

Masterlist

plot: you've never met eddie munson before...and even if your reputation's never been worse, desire is the sound of the whiskey and you're prepared for the risk. but are you willing to let it go to waste?

Pairings: modernrockstar!Eddie x fem!popstar!Reader (curvy!reader, bisexual!reader)

Warnings: drinking, mention of weed, there's genuine smut in here so sorry for the length, mention of body shaming

easter egg count: 32

wc: 6.9k

This chapter is inspired by the sound and lyrics of “Delicate” and her unreleased Lover track “Need” that I haven’t stopped thinking about since it leaked. This is one of my favorite things I've ever written and I can't believe I get to share it! Okay, have fun! I love these two so much! (special thanks to @munsonsbtch for helping chill out my frantic screaming about writing smut)

Late April, 2024

You met him in those weird ways celebrities do. Usually, it’s an award show or some house party thrown by mutual famous friends. For you, it was the Grammy after party.

Corroded Coffin won Best Rock Album for “Fire Shroud” and Best Metal Performance for the title track. (Ozzy Osborne presented their award and you couldn’t believe how jealous you were.) 

You’d won Song of the Year for “Cradle Me”. The night was electric, one that would go down in history for you and your ever-growing career. 

Because you’d done it. You won a Grammy. 

And that was the only reason you decided to even go to the after party, really. You rode the high of your adrenaline, your tears. The squealing and stomping of victory as you basked in a kind of pride you’d never felt before. A kind of pride that you didn’t even know existed.

The room boomed with music, everyone seemingly on the same wave as you. You’d been practically shredding up the dance floor all on your own, taking time to close your eyes and feel a release for what seemed like the first time since you’d started your career. You were on top of your game, on top of the world. Nothing could derail you now. 

As a remix of Miley Cyrus’ “Flowers” came to a close, you remembered where you were. Opened your eyes to look around you as another song sounded, the bass pulsating in your ears.

And despite the noise, everyone noticed when Corroded Coffin walked in.

Even you.

Here they were, all five members decked out in lavish outfits, all five shimmying their way through the parting crowd with drinks held high in the air. If it was anyone else, they’d look obnoxious and lame. But each one of the members of Corroded Coffin acted like real people. They were in sequins, dark makeup, designer suits and dresses…and they were normal. Just laughing their way through the crowd and dancing like idiots.

And that’s when you saw him.

About an hour after their arrival, Eddie Munson snuck away from the rest of the group. He was at the bar, nursing some whiskey, a smile on his face as he chatted with the bartender. Leaning sideways against the counter with his legs crossed, just lounging as he socialized.

And maybe it kind of seemed a little stalkerish that you were watching him across the room, sipping on your third Shirley Temple—with, yes, copious amounts of vodka—but you were merely observing. 

You weren’t his biggest fan or anything, but you were still fascinated by him. By his effortless charm, the sheer effect he seemed to have on everyone. Some had called him the New It Guy, others had called him a Soon To Be Has Been. But, for the most part, he was considered the man of everyone’s dreams. 

Not only that, but he was genuinely talented. Corroded Coffin was killing it, having reached newer heights. Those Grammys they won? Yeah, they’d already received two the year prior. In the last two years, they’d collaborated with Post Malone, Joan Jett, Bring Me The Horizon, Nova Twins, Amy Lee, Poppy… The list was starting to get rather full from how desirable it was to work with them, especially smaller artists they’d been bringing into the limelight. 

Plus, they were bringing metal to new heights. Tearing down the walls of what it meant to listen to metal and defying how it was “supposed” to sound. And you could go on and on about their lyricism, the way that they wrote about more than just testosterone-driven rage. They talked about mental health, about heartache. Addiction. Loneliness and the way isolation stung. Even the intense weight of fear that comes with falling in love.

They were raw. They were real.

And you kinda wanted to talk to Eddie Munson.

He was alone, for God’s sake. Just a sitting duck by himself, clad in that outfit. The sequins on his blazer casted light over his cheek, reflecting off of the LED lights. His blazer was a deep eggplant, all velvet and cool and fitting perfectly tight against his toned muscles. There were patterns of small black roses strategically placed throughout. Not enough to be overwhelming, but enough to give the drama. 

Oh, yeah. One more thing.

No. Shirt. 

Just his lean stomach with an attention-grabbing happy trail that led to his incredibly tight leather pants. The color even matched his blazer. Combat boots. Rings adorning his fingers and some black nail polish. Layers of diamond bracelets and chains resting against the dark ink of his tattoos. A guitar pick at the center of a black velvet choker around his neck.

Yeah, you really wanted to talk to Eddie Munson.

For a second, you stared down at yourself. You had a momentary lapse in confidence, wondering if what you were wearing was acceptable for a metal lead. Because you were clad in a silk knee-length dress, blush pink. One that hugged your curves and twirled around you wherever you moved. It was Old Hollywood. It was graceful. It was you.

Fuck it.

You approached, handing the bartender your empty glass and kindly asking for a refill. When you glanced over at Eddie in your peripheral, you knew he was being respectful, looking down at his drink rather than you.

It was up to you to deliver the opening line.

“You know,” you started, catching his attention immediately. “you’d kinda look like Lord Farquad if you got a bob.”

Eddie’s eyebrows lifted, trying to stifle a chuckle. “Yeah? You think so?” You nodded and watched as he tried to tuck in the bottom half of his hair to create the illusion of a bob. “‘Run, run, run as fast as you can. You can’t catch me, I’m the Gingerbread Man!’”

You were right. He kinda looked like Lord Farquad’s taller, hotter, more glamorous brother. 

“That is perfect,” you said, slow clapping. “Brilliant.”

He laughed, moving his whisky as a subtle invite to stand next to him. “I’m glad you think so. I’m Eddie, by the way.”

You smiled, telling him your name, watching as he nodded. He was wearing some eye shadow, all deep purple and bruise-y. He seemed to have had a coat of lipgloss on that was now lining the rim of his glass, with only a slight residue remaining. It was still effortlessly beautiful. He was effortlessly beautiful.

“Yeah, I actually know who you are.”

Your eyes widened. He knew you? 

“I didn’t think it was your genre,” you said honestly.

Eddie shook his head. “Nah. Come on, give yourself a little credit. ‘Tetris’ had a bit of a rock vibe to it.”

“Yeah, true,” you agreed, rolling your eyes. That was a single from your last album, one that hadn’t even gotten much traction from audiences. “But it’s nothing like A Rush of Hellfire.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shot up again. “You heard our first album?”

Confusion flooded your features. “Well, yeah. Hasn’t everyone?”

“No one talks about it anymore,” he responded, shrugging as he scratched the top of his head. “You a fan?”

“Not, like, a diehard fan or anything, you know? It’s fun to work out to. Or scream in the car. You did that remix with Post Malone. ‘Something Real’, right?” He smiled, nodding. “Yeah, I can’t get enough of it. The original is heavenly, but you guys put a spin on it that made it transcend the meaning and give it an extra boost of emotion that didn’t even seem possible. And your added verse? I mean, it was just so raw and…” 

You stopped yourself, starting to feel embarrassed from practically fangirling about this guy’s music to his face. He may have been actively listening, or was pretending to, but you had to stop before it got to be too much.

“Anyways,” you finished. “I really like it.”

His smile grew and it was like something flutter-y-ish was rushing to your heart. What was that about? 

“I’m flattered,” he said. “Unexpected, but flattered nonetheless.”

“Why unexpected?”

“Well, I mean. Well, your music—I just assumed—”

You laughed at that. “I like way more than just pop. That’s just the music I make, you know?” He gave you another silent nod, making you feel a little self-conscious. “So, I’m guessing you’re not really into my stuff?”

“No, I really like it. I just don’t want you to think I’m a diehard fan or anything. Actually, it’s kinda funny. I saw your cover of ‘Lolita’ by…” he trailed, waving his fingers around in thought until he pointed at you with a smirk. “Lana Del Rey, that’s it. Saw it a few weeks ago. Very cool. I liked the way you changed the sound. It seemed a little sadder than the OG, even with the synth.”

You smiled. You’d done that cover in the BBC Live Lounge to make fun of the way the media portrayed you. A player on both sides, leading everyone on and leaving them high and dry. Being a temptress of some sort, always on your best misbehavior. It was a common story, something that was far from realistic. But the media circus wasn’t about reality. It was about the fantasy.

And a lot of people misinterpreted the song choice as a confirmation of your reputation. It was mortifying. And annoying. Mostly fucking annoying.

And as the bartender handed you your drink, you prayed to whatever God was out there that Eddie didn’t think the same about you.

“I did it as a joke,” you defended sheepishly. “You’ve probably heard about me, but I’m not actually like that.”

And you knew that there was no reason for you to justify yourself to him, especially someone rumored to be a player himself. Eddie was known to the public as someone who collected  groupies like a goddamn claw machine, but it was seen as something desirable. He was hailed as some kind of Metal Prince of Darkness. (Though, you’d never come into contact with anyone who’d actually been involved with him…)

So why were you nervous all of a sudden?

You studied his reaction, the way he barely had one. He just kept smiling like that, this kind of half-smile as if you were the most interesting person he’d ever met. You were sure he smiled at everyone like that.

And if it was a trick, well fuck, it was working.

“I definitely got the joke,” he said, chuckling as your eyes widened. “What, did no one else?”

You shrugged. “Not a lot of them, no.”

“Well, I guess the world is as dense as I thought.” 

You couldn’t stifle your giggle as you lifted your drink to your lips, nearly spilling it on yourself. 

And maybe Eddie thought he was being smooth, but he took a small step forward, closer than he’d been before. “Just letting you know,” he said. “as someone who is also not like that, I thought it was amazing.”

You could smell the tobacco wafting off of his jacket, mixed with something like amber or bergamot. His pinky finger was dangerously close to yours, seemingly inching forward. The closer he got, the easier it was to decode the exact shade of his eyes. Brown had been wrong. No, they were hickory. They were umber. And these hickory, umber eyes were looking at you.

It wasn’t fair in the slightest.

Something in you wanted to call him out because there was something definitely happening between you. Maybe it was a game he was playing, taking shots at your weak spots to lower your defenses. Or maybe it was genuine chemistry, luring you in with a dangerous kind of desire that you’d never felt before. 

It was something you couldn’t even explain to yourself. 

Out of seemingly nowhere, Eddie asked, “Beatles or Stones?”

You snorted. “Easy. Beatles. You clearly haven’t listened to my album.”

“Oh, I’ve heard Acacia My Dear. How could I not?” Your eyes widened. “But I thought you were sane. Guess I was wrong.” He sighed, waving you away. “This has been fun but get out of my sight.”

“Okay, wow. How does it feel to be a loser?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“How does it feel to be wrong?”

“The Stones do not have half of the amount of hits that The Beatles had. Name any Beatles album, which I bet you can’t, and I can tell you the plethora of well-known songs from each one. You can’t fight me on the factual evidence—”

“Do you wanna dance?” he asked suddenly, cutting you off.

You froze, confusion and intrigue colliding inside you. 

“Didn’t you just tell me to go away?”

“As a joke.”

“Are you going to continue to insult my preferences?”

He leaned in just a bit further. “Is that something you’d want?”

“Maybe a little,” you admitted, trying to catch your breath as he took it. “As a treat.”

“I’d be honored.”

Eddie took you to the floor like a gentleman in a ballroom, one arm pressed against his back with the other holding your hand up. As if he was wearing a luxurious tux and you were in a ballgown. As if this was something serious, something more than it should’ve been.

And, god, whatever he was doing was fucking with your head.

Because the two of you started dancing to one of the popular hits of the year, a song you hadn’t cared to listen to. But it didn’t seem to matter to either of you, going back and forth with each other as you moved through the dance floor. Eddie shimmied his shoulders and rolled his hips. You gladly followed his lead.

As the song hit its bridge, he leaned in. “By the way, I don’t know this song.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, I don’t either. I’ve been religiously listening to Maisie Peters for the last year.”

He nodded before looking at you with a bit of a sheepish expression. “I don’t know who that is either, I’m afraid.”

“That’s more offensive than your Beatles comments,” you teased.

He rolled his eyes before taking your hands and spinning you around. Laughter fell from your lips easily, finding the sensation quite dizzying.

God, how was his energy so infectious?

He tried to bring you back up, to let go. But you were done for, wobbling in his arms from the dizzy spell coming over you. One of your held hands was placed against his chest, the drumming of his heart nearly matching the beat of the song.

“Woah there,” he teased.

You sighed, your grasp on his hand tightening. “Don’t blame me,” you said. “That was all you.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, you’re right.” When you were stable enough to stand properly and the room stopped spinning, he asked, “Favorite Beatles song?”

You scoffed. “Why should I tell you if you’re just going to make fun of it?”

“You wound me.”

“I have evidence. Exhibit A, five minutes ago you told me my opinion was wrong. Twice.”

“I’ll behave myself.” You raised an eyebrow. “Scout’s honor.”

You decided to answer truthfully. “It changes every day, I think.”

“So, what’s todays?” he pressed. When you gave him a quizzical look, he shook his head. “Don’t leave me hanging over here.”

Your smile returned. “Today, it’s ‘Sun King’.”

“Ah, a highly underrated track from Abbey Road. Mine’s either ‘I Want You (She’s So Heavy)’ or ‘Why Don’t We Do It In The Road?’ from the White Album.”

You couldn’t believe your ears. “You know their discography and yet you disrespect them.”

He wagged a finger at you. “You’re mistaken, young maiden. I never said The Beatles were bad. I said they weren’t as good as The Rolling Stones.”

“I think I hate you,” you said without thinking. Without even knowing how he was going to take that.

But then Eddie’s small smile grew into a grin. “Oh, yeah?”

You couldn’t help but smile back. “Mhm.”

“Does that mean we’ll never speak again?”

“No,” you admitted, showing him your cards. 

Eddie smirked. “Good.”

Apparently, he was showing his, too.

Another drink and a round of bickering later, you and Eddie were promptly interrupted by a rumbling of voices calling out to you.

Well, not you.

“Ed!”

The two of you turned and watched as the rest of Corroded Coffin rushed over. Well, Ronnie was trailing behind, still in her heels. And you commended her for not running like the rest.

Eddie let out a chuckle and you watched a grin stretch across his face, lighting him up more than anything else seemingly did tonight. It was a look of love, of appreciation. Friendship.

And when he looked at you, you swore that it intensified.

God, he was something else.

“This is Grant, Gareth, Ronnie, and Jeff,” he introduced, gesturing to the group.

As if you didn’t already know.

“Nice to meet you all,” you said, giving each one a handshake and a smile.

“Jesus, you’re prettier in person,” Ronnie said, giving you a look over. “Love the dress.”

You could help but smile, especially with how beautiful she was. Ronnie Ecker. A legendary fucking female drummer standing in front of you. Her satin dress hugged her hips, a slit running up her thigh as the tips of her fingers rested against the opening. And, sure, Eddie was standing next to you, and you were extremely interested in him. But you’d be lying if you didn’t feel heat rising to your cheeks at the sight of one of the hottest women alive.

“Right back at you,” you replied, trying to stop sounding so nervous. “You’re incredible at the drums. It’s such an honor—"

“We’re heading out, actually,” Gareth said loudly, catching your attention.

“To do what? Go to bed?” Eddie asked, snorting. “Did you grind the indica by mistake?”

Grant shrugged. “We came to see if you wanted to go back and do a one-shot…” he trailed, eyes flickering over to you. “But then we saw you over here and, well…”

Jeff pointed at you. “We decided we wanted to meet you,” he said plainly.

“Yeah, exactly,” Gareth confirmed.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “Oh, please. I’m really not that interesting.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Eddie said, catching your gaze. “Not to us or anyone else.”

There was something about the way he said it that made you wonder exactly what he was thinking about you. Because there was that hint of a smirk again, one that you couldn’t help but interpret as: You should see yourself the way I do in this moment.

And even though the others fell headfirst into their own tangent, you decided to lean over to Jeff. 

“A one-shot, you say?” you asked. “Like for D and D?”

A grin spread across his face. “Precisely.”

“You guys play a lot?”

Jeff nodded. “Yeah, Eddie’s, like, the best DM I’ve ever seen.”

“Better than Brennan Lee Mulligan?” you questioned.

“Close enough,” he admitted.

Eddie tapped Jeff on the shoulder. “Did someone just mention Brennan?”

“She did,” Jeff said as he patted your shoulder. “Wanna get super jealous?”

You raised an eyebrow as Eddie gave you a shit-eating grin. “I’m guest starring in his upcoming campaign.”

“Oh, fuck off!” you exclaimed. Stomping your foot, you shook your head. Your lips twisted into a smile, all jealous and playful. Because you were extremely envious, having watched D&D for years but never playing it yourself. And here Eddie was, getting the opportunity to work with one of the best DMs there were. What a cool fucking asshole.

“Well, if you ever wanted to plaaaaaay,” Gareth exaggerated, clasping his hands together and grinning. “We could always head back and get you a character sheet.”

Eddie flicked his forehead, giving him a hard stare that you couldn’t understand. “Gareth, we are not doing a one-shot tonight.” When both men’s eyes flickered over to you for a moment, you began to pick up the meaning. “So you better scram.”

And then it was its own conversation, one that started with goodbyes but led into another whirlwind of comments. You tried to follow along, tried to understand what they were even talking about in their shared campaign. There was something about a powerful wizard, another realm underneath the one you called your own. A world that seemed upside down, a world that you were glad you didn’t live in.

And as soon as it began to descend into chaos, Eddie sighed and held up his hand. “Alright, I’m cutting us off. Go to bed, you lovely dumbasses.”

“I like you,” Jeff said as the others hugged and bumped fists. Your eyes widened. “I like you a lot.”

Without a chance to ask him what he meant by that, Jeff was filing behind Grant and Gareth, all three sneaking glances back at you as they walked away.

Ronnie gave you another look over before leaning in. “Some advice? Don’t break his heart,” she said, patting your shoulder before she hustled to catch up with the others.

Shock ran through you at the sheer idea of feelings being involved between you and Eddie Munson of all people. As if he would ever actually want something like that. The idea was so absurd that you almost had to scoff.

“Did you want to keep talking?”

You turned to Eddie whose stare was becoming almost too magnetic, having to look away every few seconds. If you didn’t, the eye contact was going to send you into cardiac arrest. 

“Talking?” you asked, lifting an eyebrow. 

He played innocent, shrugging. “Well, we could always talk. We could do other things, too. If you’d like.”

“You want me to go home with you?”

“To my hotel room, maybe?” Eddie paused, clearly trying to interpret your expression and failing. “Uh, unless I’m reading this all wrong.”

“You’re not,” you said.

Without breaking eye contact, his fingers found your palm before lifting it and pressing his lips against the back of your hand. You could only hope the music would mask your sharp breath. 

“I have fewer scarlet letters than people think.” 

Another kiss. Another lodge in your throat.

“So, don’t think I’m doing this because I’m a whore.”

You could only nod. “Likewise.”

“I just…” he paused, a hint of something covering his features. “I think you’re really cool.”

“Likewise,” you concluded, disconnecting your hands before his touch could electrocute you further. “See you at the hotel.”

“How many scarlet letters do you have?” you asked Eddie.

How the hell you’d managed to be alone in the elevator was beyond you. In fact, it was a miracle on its own that the two of you were able to leave separately, arrive at the hotel without paparazzi standing out front, and casually make it to the elevator without anyone taking notice. It was a rather close call.

Or maybe it was a sign.

You nearly rolled your eyes at the thought before Eddie’s laugh brought your attention back. 

“Ah, man,” he said. “Three, the first two being in high school. What about you?”

“Four,” you said plainly. “All post high school. I wasn’t very popular back then.”

“Neither was I.”

You looked over at him, curious about what else was there.

“Really?”

Eddie snorted. “Are you kidding me? Of course not. Look at me.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”  

He shook his head. “Uh-uh. Those first two? They used me to get back at their boyfriends. Thought the local freak would, I don’t know, make them jealous?”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “I was also the freak.”

“Really?” You nodded. “Could’ve fooled me.”

And there that stare was again, burning a hole in your chest that you weren’t sure how to make go away. But did you really even want it to?

No words were exchanged as you made your way down the hallway. You looked back, always alert at the potential of a camera or wandering eyes. And when you made your way inside his hotel room, thick with the scent of him, you felt the prickles on your neck that always came when you feared danger.

For some reason, you couldn’t help but look at the door, making sure it was locked. Making sure that the shadows underneath the door were passing by quickly. Muffled voices came and went, but your guard never wavered.

“You don’t have to worry about anyone seeing us,” Eddie said. You turned slowly, watching him unlace his boots. “This floor is all booked for the band. No need to risk anything. That’s probably just my guy, James. He’s a hardass, but he loves a good party.”

A small chuckle left your lips. “It’s not that I’m scared to be seen with you,” you explained. “It’s just a nasty habit.”

“I don’t blame you. Las Vegas can drive people crazy.”

You took the moment to undo your heels, finally able to let your feet breathe after a long, long night of discomfort. There was a stinging pain the moment your bare feet hit the carpet.

But you couldn’t wait, taking tentative steps towards him. Like you were assessing him, assessing the risk. Watching as he watched you, standing like you’d made a silent request that he couldn’t say no to.

“I won’t bite,” he said, hands reaching out to yours. Taking your fingertips and pulling you towards him. Like you were still on that dance floor, like he was as lost in the moment as you were. 

As you drew near, you caught a glimpse of his smudged eye shadow, the way it was starting to smear. His eyes, darker than before in the low light of the lamp, only on you.

Yeah, you weren’t thinking about consequences anymore.

“I have to be up early in the morning,” you whispered, nearly chasing his lips with yours.

He nodded. “You can leave whenever you want,” he said softly, thumb brushing your lower lip. “I do want you to know that I want to kiss you so bad it’s going to kill me.”

“Well, why didn’t you just say—”

Eddie kissed you fiercely, nearly knocking you over. 

It was like he was chasing after you. Wherever you moved, he moved. Whenever you gasped, he gasped. Your hand met the back of his neck, so his moved to yours. 

It was the kindling of a fire.

If you dared to utter it, you would call it passion. 

You slowly made your way to his neck, scratching against the choker as you went. Eddie inhaled sharply, trembling as you made your way down his chest. Desperate to feel all of it. Desperate to understand where he started and where he ended. Wondering if you’d truly be granted full access.

But it was his fingers that flipped a switch. Eddie carefully moved the tips along your jaw—gently, like he was trying to learn exactly what you felt like. And before you could register it, Eddie pulled your head to the side and latched his lips to your throat. 

There was a release of a moan, the high pitch shocking you. 

Because here you were, feeling a lightning strike against your neck, rumbling like chills down your back. Before you knew it, you were limp in his arms.

You were giving in.

Slowly, Eddie helped you out of your dress, trying to take his time. But you were a little more fast-paced, nearly ripping off your own underwear before reaching towards him. Mainly because he only had a jacket on, but you were also extremely close to losing your mind if you didn’t have him inside you in the next ten minutes.

“Now, why’re you going so fast?” Eddie asked, voice hushed in the silent room. His lips met yours again, leaning back just enough to look into your eyes. “Shouldn’t you give yourself some time to enjoy it?”

Dumbfounded. That’s the only way you could describe yourself. Eddie was standing in front of you, offering you the chance to experience not just sex, but pleasure.

“Can I?” you asked him, desperate to be told again. 

He kissed your forehead.

“Yes.”

Eddie gently lowered you to the bed, helping you scoot up to rest your head on the pillow. He paused, peering down at you as he unhooked his choker. It was the tucking of his lip into his mouth that captivated you, beckoned you to reach up to his lips.

You couldn’t remember wanting anyone else’s mouth this much.

And amongst the kissing and the harsh breaths, Eddie had his pants off, quickly kicking them aside to focus on you. You immediately clocked how he had not worn any underwear.

Fuck.

You had no time to look down at his length, instead feeling it as he rocked his hips against your mound. With lips against skin and a fever building, you hardly formed a thought as you tried to push his hand towards your pussy.

“Eddie,” you whined. “Please.”

“Whatever you want,” he murmured. “Promise.”

His fingers danced around your entrance, the calloused tips stroking your clit as he went along. Your hips bucked, but it was nothing against his grip on you. Instinctively, you moved your face to the side, wanting to hide your face in the pillow. 

“Shh, it’s alright,” he whispered, placing a small kiss to your nose. “Let yourself go.”

Before you had any time to respond, Eddie was inside you. His fingers pumped in and out, the squelching sound of your wetness filling the near silence.

Eddie wasn’t done annihilating your neck, leaving more and more marks as he went. There your sounds returned, nearly choking on your breath as you whimpered. 

It went on like this for a while, Eddie taking his time to bring you to the brink of an orgasm. Once. Twice. Unable to edge you a third time when you came uncontrollably and suddenly. You’d come down only to find his fingers on your clit again, beckoning you.

“Can you do it for me again?” he asked.

Feverish nods, hushed confirmations.

Another orgasm. Another bout of emotions that were ripping through you.

When you finally came down from your third orgasm, you knew you needed more. It wasn’t a want. It was a need. Eddie hadn’t touched himself, hadn’t given in to his own pleasure. It was all you.

All you.

“Can you, um,” you tried to start, breath still heavy. 

“What is it?” he asked.

With shaky fingers, you reached down between you, lightly stroking his cock. Eddie let out a hiss, arms struggling to hold him up. It was his turn to quiver.

“Ah,” he finally said, a nervous chuckle eliciting from him. “I, uh, would really like that.”

Without another word, he ran his tip over your clit, a groan leaving your lips before you came back to reality.

“Wait," you sighed, pausing. "What about you?” Gently, you pressed a hand against his chest. “Don’t you want me to, uh…”

You were too embarrassed to ask him point blank if he wanted his dick (cock? Big Ben? Woodpecker?) sucked. Because you knew that if you were to say it out loud, you would be a fumbling mess of Do you want me to suck your cockbenpecker? And then you’d have to leave and kill yourself out of sheer embarrassment.

But Eddie didn’t laugh at you. Instead, his lips found your shoulder. “No, I’m alright. Thank you for the offer, though.” He slowly trailed his tongue to the other side. “Rain check for that?”

You nodded. “Y-yeah, absolutely.”

He carefully slid in, eliciting strained moans from both of you. You watched his eyes widen; mouth agape as he looked at you. Took your silent nod as confirmation to rock into you. He didn’t go too quick, seemingly taking his time to feel you. 

And as he built his momentum, you couldn’t help but find yourself becoming a a mumbling mess.

His cock was filling you, completing you. Aching as though you’d been missing each other your entire lives and you were finally colliding.

He lifted your leg over his shoulder, seemingly desperate to go deeper. You felt as he shivered, like he was unable to control himself while trying to maintain the control he already had. It drove you wild, moving with him to get him to keep going. Getting as close to him as you could to keep him vibrating above you. 

It was addicting, keeping your eyes connected as you tried to give back what he was giving to you. There was a silent connection forming, one where you were desperate to make him feel the way you did. Craved the ability to make him bend at your will, a carnal desire to make him fall apart at your hands.

Eddie smiled, nearly laughing as you grabbed his ass and pushed him deeper into you. And even though you were close to cracking a smile, it was quickly taken away. He thrusted again, harder, intensifying the wave of ecstasy washing over you. You cried out, unable to hold it in anymore. 

“That’s it,” he said. “You sound so pretty, you know that?”

A fourth orgasm ripped through you at his praise, cum coating his cock as he continued to rock into you. He slowed, only for a moment, just enough to help you down before he picked you right back up again. Cradled your face in one hand, his other lightly running up and down your calf. For the first time, you weren’t thrown into overstimulation.

For the first time, you experienced true pleasure from sex.

As you continued to writhe in his arms, trembling as he left you in wave after wave of euphoria, you felt something shift in your chest. You couldn’t see it then, but there was a part of you that would want him the moment he was gone. Because when he finally came, pulling out and spilling onto your stomach, you were disappointed that he hadn’t cum inside you.

It was in the way he took his time with you, treating you like a lady, praising you with each orgasm. Instead of whatever you imagined, something fast and filthy and rough, you were… Well, you were worshiped.

It was much more than whatever a one-night stand between strangers was supposed to look like. And you’d never had a one-night stand, but you were ninety-nine percent sure it was not this. Strangely, you were very, very okay with that.

When you two were officially finished, he pulled you into his chest, your head resting above his thrumming heart. And you stayed there. Without any thought of the future, without any thought of your hotel room or your manager or the flight you had to take tomorrow. No, you were somewhere else. Somewhere lovely. Somewhere safe.

“Tell me something true,” you whispered in the dark.

“What do you mean?”

“Something you probably haven’t talked about to the press or whatever. However personal you’d like to get.”

“I have two cats,” he said. “And I’m actually considering getting a third.”

“That’s really cool,” you responded. “But I’m curious.”

“Hm?”

“How do you have cats when you’re always away from home? I’ve always wanted to adopt one, but I’m scared we’ll have separation anxiety.”

“Easy. I bring them with me.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, I have special bags for them and everything. They fucking love traveling if you can believe it. Goddamn angels on airplanes.”

You couldn’t help your jealousy. It had always been a dream to have a cat. A companion, a friend to curl up next to at night. But your parents despised animals and then, well, you were suddenly never home. You wondered what it would feel like to be able to bring a piece of home with you wherever you went.

“What about you?’

You peered up at him. “Me?”

“Yeah, you,” he said with a smile. “Tell me something true.”

“It’s so stereotypical, but…” You took a deep breath, contemplating if it was okay to be so vulnerable so soon after meeting him. “I get really sad when people talk about my body.” You watched his eyebrows furrow. “I like myself, but it’s hard to be, like, not skinny and still be the artist I am as if my body determines whether I’m good enough at my job.

“Sometimes I wish I could just be a person who happens to have this body and that was that. I’m healthy…what more do people want out of me?”

Eddie’s arms tightened around your waist, fingers brushing against your tummy. “People are fucked up. Genuinely.” 

“I agree. It’s like… Either I’m too big for someone to love me but my reputation is that I’m fucking everyone within a ten mile radius at any given time. Like a fucking fuck radar.” Eddie laughed. “Like which is it? ‘Cause I clearly can’t be both and I can’t be neither.”

“You know what I say to that?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow.

“Hm?”

He raised his fist. “Fuck ‘em.”

You gave him a fist bump, nodding. “Yeah, fuck ‘em.”

“Also, if I may add, you’re fucking beautiful.” You shook your head. “No, I’m serious. I saw you walk up to accept your award tonight, which you totally had in the bag by the way, and I couldn’t help but think, ‘Wow, she’s more stunning in person.’ And I was at one of the tables in the back.”

 “You really thought that?”

“Please, I think Jeff was getting annoyed at how much I was staring. Said Radiohead wrote ‘Creep’ about me.”

A laugh fell from your lips but you still shook your head.

“I genuinely like you for you,” he whispered, lightly lifting your chin up. “It’s something true.”

“I think…I believe you.”

“Please do.”

But when you finally fell asleep, you were thrown into something ferocious. The sky turned black, with crows and ravens circling the trees. You ran along a path, trying desperately to find shelter. In the distance, you saw Eddie, walking with some other girl. One arm behind his back, his other hand holding hers. Just like he did with you.

And then it occurred to you: Now that you’d gotten a taste of Eddie Munson, you didn’t want to share.

It was supposed to be a random hookup. Just a fleeting glance at the unusual mixture of metal and pop, leather and lace. But when you woke up to the sound of your alarm, having to get on a plane as soon as possible to do promo in Chicago, you decided to wake him up.

“Hey,” you said. “Wake up, sleepy.”

He opened his eyes slightly, taking in your already dressed appearance. “Where are you going?”

Sitting on the edge of the bed, you shrugged. “Chicago. I have a podcast to go on to talk about the Grammys and bullshit about having anything written for the next album and do promo and all that.” You looked down at the white duvet, all wrinkly from the long night (with a hint of his smeared eye shadow.) “I just wanted to thank you for last night and tell you that I had fun.”

“Yeah?” You nodded. “I did, too.” 

For a moment, you were quiet. Watching as he bit his lip, noticing how you were chewing on yours. Wondered what to say. What to think. How to end an interaction you really didn’t want to end.

“Favorite Beatles song this morning?” he asked.

You tried not to smile, but you couldn’t help it as you looked up at his cheeky expression. 

“‘I’ve Just Seen A Face’.”

“Help!” he nearly shouted in a fake scared voice, clasping onto his face. 

Rolling your eyes at his antics, you said, “If I didn’t know better, you know every album they’ve ever done.”

“Maybe I’ll tell you the answer next time I see you.”

You chuckled, telling yourself that this was just something people say. Next time this. Next time that. And there’s no follow up. Just a glance here and there at events. No one calls. No one cares.

You tried to get up, but Eddie gently grabbed your hand, rubbing his fingers along your knuckles. “Actually, in all seriousness…I wouldn’t mind seeing you again sometime.”

“Do you really mean that?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

Without a word, you disconnected your hand from his and started towards the door. Started towards what was ultimately going to be a long day with endless naps and replacing the water in your body with coffee. 

And as you placed your hand on the cold doorknob, Eddie said his last words.

“I’m going to miss you.”

You glanced over at him, your armor starting to come loose. 

But it tightened as soon as the weakness was identified. Because there was no way to make any promises, no way to guarantee anything more than what this moment in time had provided. 

“I’ll see you soon, Eddie. I’ll make sure of it.”

After that, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. The way he was just so honest. Upfront. Wanting you close.

He told you he was going to miss you. He told you that he liked you for the person you were, not the person that everyone expected you to be. And he was the same, his reputation being nothing more than a façade for the lovely human being underneath.

The rest of that day, that week, you could only think of him.

Shouldn’t you give yourself some time to enjoy it? his voice echoed. 

It’s alright. 

Just let go.

Early October, 2024

His makeup smeared down his face as he held your eyes. You’d never seen him so soft, so gentle. Full of emotions reserved just for you. Desperate for the one thing he ever wanted. 

You.

And in that moment, it all froze mid-air. The laughter and gasps of the crowd. The sound of the photographers shouting his name, shouting yours. The videos and the comments that felt like sticks and stones. Ronnie’s hurling words that felt like daggers.

It dissipates as you remember the start, as you remember why you were there in the first place. Why it mattered.

“Okay,” you murmured.

Eddie's eyes widened.

“I’ll stay.”

[goomens]

I've had an idea but I won't get around to writing it think.. I imagine Crowley being drunk on wine, taking to Nina after *the event* and just word vomiting, telling her everything about who he is. And then Nina ist like "so when you said 'angel' you actually meant..." maybe you can do something with that? 😂

such a cute idea!!! fic under the cut <3

It’s nine in the morning and Nina is jolted from her sleepy reverie by the violent tinkle of the front door bell; a figure in black slithering into a nearby seat and thunking his head down onto the table. Crowley, she thinks, watching him carefully from behind the counter. Without Mr. Fell in tow, tense around the shoulders, and creating quite a sad display, she feels a pang of something like pity inside her chest.

“Gretel,” Nina calls quietly to one of her newer baristas after a moment of consideration, “Take over for a bit, please?” And she makes her way over to Crowley, not bothering to say hello as she pulls out the other chair and sits down in it. He doesn’t lift his head. By all means, he seems lifeless. Completely still. Eerie, like he isn’t breathing. Her heart stutters in fear for a second, thinking he’s just up and died in her coffee shop, but—

“Oh, calm down.” Crowley retracts his forehead from the cold plastic table with a grunt and glares at Nina—she thinks, at least—through the impenetrable black lenses of his sunglasses. “I would like a mug of coffee with four measures of vodka, please and thank you.”

“It’s not even half nine yet, you know,” She scolds him, not really meaning it, but not willing to serve him alcohol so early either. He’s a bit of an odd fella (or, whatever) but Nina draws the line at serving a customer four units before noon. “No boozy breakfasts here. You’ll have to wait ‘til later—on Saturdays we have a boozy brunch. There’ll be cocktails.”

Crowley doesn’t speak for a moment. Then, “Pity.” He sighs. Snaps his fingers for some reason. He reaches into his blazer, pulling out an entire litre bottle of ABSOLUT and uncapping it. Nina opens her mouth, ready to tell him off, but he holds a finger up and guzzles down half of it before she can get the words out. When he sets the bottle down, she raises a questioning eyebrow.

“Thirsty?”

He ignores her, choosing to scowl instead, and looks off out the window of the shop looking a bit lost. “Your advice was shit. You and that—that vinyl seller. Thought you should know. Don’t go trying to influence anyone else’s ‘love’ lives, eh?” His words are full of forced humour, but his voice shatters a bit at the end, and suddenly Nina feels like some kind of villain. She looks at Crowley and sees someone in mourning. He’s grieving. He’s heartbroken.

“Fuck,” She says with feeling, and motions for Gretel to bring over two mugs.

Hours later—in the midst of Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death’s boozy brunch—Crowley is drunkenly taking Nina step-by-step through his and Aziraphale’s extremely long history. They go back much, much further than she ever thought. Than she ever thought possible, actually. It’s all quite strange. And sweet, and sad, the way he talks about Aziraphale. “He’s so smart,” He says. “He’s good. He’s lovely. He’s the one I love. He’s only gone and returned to Heaven and left me on my own.” He also says, “I’m a Demon, I know I don’t deserve him,” and “He’s an Angel, he doesn’t want me. He could never want me.” And Nina is suddenly putting the pieces together, making sense of it all, her stomach—full of the buttered bagel she’d had for breakfast, half a bottle of vodka, and not much else—turns and swoops, threatening to expel its contents.

Crowley watches her then bursts into a startling laugh. It’s low and surprised. “There’s no way—no way—you’re just now realising what I am. What he is.” She just blinks and stares, and his laugh dies down but the lines of amusement remain etched on his face. “Oh, brilliant. You humans are brilliant. So bloody obtuse.”

“Oi!” She protests, reaching out to push at his shoulder. But she misses on account of being a bit more tipsy than she thought, and he laughs at her again. “I am not obtuse! ‘M quite clever, actually.”

There’s a smile on his—the Demon’s—face now, which is nice, much better than the frown he sported earlier, but when he gestures to his face and grins fiendeshly, she only stares confused for a second before realising that, ah, maybe she is a bit obtuse. His eyes are bright and a little bit playful, without the sunglasses. Big and yellow and snake-like, and oh, that’s what the Eden story had been about. It hadn’t been a metaphor or a weird figure of speech, but the truth. She’d been so busy listening to him she hadn’t noticed the moment he’d pocketed his sunglasses.

Instead of crippling fear or mortal terror, Nina just laughs and laughs. She orders them both a creamy coffee and some malt biscuits, even at his weak protests, and she lets him tell her all about the planets and the stars, Mesopotamia, the crucifixion, the Seven hills of ancient Rome, the burning of witches in the fifteenth century, the Armageddon-That-Wasn’t…

[obsixwi]

How to Order From Antique Beast

I've noticed a number of people have various Antique Beast items, primarily the Black Cat Headdress, on their wishlist. I've also seen instances where these headdresses are heavily scalped on secondhand websites, so I just wanted to put out a PSA - Please don't buy overpriced secondhand Antique Beast! They still open up their shop regularly, and while it was quite difficult to snag items the first couple of times post-2020 that they reopened their shop, the demand seems to have returned to normal, and it's not nearly as difficult to buy items before they close the shop again.

The way Antique Beast works is they will send email list subscribers an email one day before their shop is set to open. They will also update the website to include any one-offs or new releases. They will then open up the webshop at the scheduled time and close it once they reach their maximum quantity of orders.

The easiest way to make sure you don't miss updates is to subscribe to their mailing list, which you can do here! It's also best to create an account so that your mailing information is saved for faster checkout. To create an account, click here. If you can't read Japanese, Google Translate is sufficient for helping navigate the website.

Buttcape of Stephano.me also has a tutorial on how to order from Antique Beast from 2017, which you can read here. It includes information about signing up for the newsletter and how to register an account.

You might be wondering, "Ok, if there's already a tutorial, why are you making this post?" For one thing, since this tutorial is a few years old, people may not be aware of it if they're a newer lolita! Another reason is because I wanted to add a few notes on faster checkout and customization.

As I noted before, sometimes Antique Beast will post one-off items on their shop. If you fall in love with an item deeply and want to be first in line for checkout, you can enter items into your cart and enter your customer info before the shop opens. Once you reach the shipping selection page, there won't be any options to choose from until the site officially opens, so you can hit refresh until a shipping option appears - from there you can just check out regularly!

Another thing that's not talked about a lot is that Antique Beast offers size customization and fabric customization. To ask for something to be customized, just leave it in the notes section before checking out. For sizing, they can only offer a limited amount of increase or decrease from the original garment, presumably because they're working from one pattern. For fabric options, you can ask for different colors (I've seen multiple colorways of the Cat Headdress) or different types of fabrication! So far I have asked for items to be made in velveteen and organza, and I've also seen pleather variations of items. Since these fabric options aren't available to purchase on the site directly, just add the item that you want customized into your cart, and make a note of what you want changed in the notes section.

According to the FAQ, you can also customize the types of trim or ribbon on an item, or you can ask for things like sleeves to be made like that of another item. You can also do things like ask for skirt versions of dresses, ask for a headband or comb instead of ribbons, etc.

If you make a customization request, the owner will email your back within a few days to confirm your request, as well as the price, since there is typically an extra charge for custom items. She may also email back to verify how you want something to look. For example, when I asked or an organza headdress, she asked for details about how I wanted it constructed and how translucent I wanted the final version to be:

The owner uses translation software to write emails, but I've never had a problem communicating with her in English. She will also include an estimated time of departure for your package, which usually takes around one or two months. The amount of time it takes for the package to reach you depends on the shipping method you choose.

Hope that helps anyone who had questions about how to purchase from Antique Beast!

[halfmoth-halfman]

what’s the point of a fic rec list if ur only going to show the same people every month

we get it you want to show off ur big writer friends & you want to suck up to the other popular writers but you can do that without lovebombing their fics with the same nonsense keysmash this was amazing *insert random heart gif* review for every single fic until they’re forced to acknowledge you

it’s kind of cringey & i wouldn’t be surprised if it made some of those writers ur trying to suck up to really uncomfortable

we all see the same popular writers all the time they don’t need ur sad attempt at exposure and ass kissing to get people to read their fics people want to see new & small writers or writers who don’t get a lot of notes not the same fics from the same writers that always get rec’d

maybe next time try finding actual smaller writers in here & giving them valid reviews instead of ignoring them &making them feel bad for not being good enough to make ur omg best writers ever 💜 list each month

i realize that you're probably a troll and i shouldn't bother with this but there's actually some points in here that kind of concern me so i'm gonna answer this piece by piece so i can get my thoughts out properly.

why show the same people every month

it wasn't and isn't my intention to only show the same people in my fic rec lists. i've said this before on here but i'm very busy irl so i don't have a lot of time for tumblr and reading and exploring for fics. most of the fics i see are from people i follow, the fics they reblog, or the recommended posts tumblr gives me so those are the majority of what goes on my fic rec list.

it sucks, but i don't have a lot of time to search and find new fics or writers. if i had a less demanding job or personal life than i'd love to take more time to explore fics, but i just don't and i realize that can come off as me favoring certain writers but there's nothing i can do to add more time to my day. i've always made it clear that i am open to new recs/fics/writers, i've found some of my favorite fics through other recs people have sent me!

it's also for that reason that i made the monthly fic recs specifically for fics that were also written in that month. i can't keep up or keep track of what month/year every fic was posted to make sure they're added accordingly. i thought making the monthly rec list this way would not only show off new fics and maybe newer writers/blogs but also be easier for me to keep track of what fics to include so i don't get overwhelmed and end up quitting.

i also made sure that the monthly fic rec list isn't the only time i recommend fics, i have an entire blog dedicated to fic recs that i reblog every fic i like to. i link to it in every fic rec list so everyone can go and look at all of the fics i like and recommend.

we get it you want to show off ur big writer friends & you want to suck up to the other popular writers

i don't think this is a good way of looking at it, if i'm being honest. i'm not trying to show anyone off or suck up to anyone, i just wanted to make a post that showed my appreciation for fics that i liked in one big post since (as i said above) i don't have a lot of time to do comment reblogs for every single fic.

and it really bothers me the way you seem to view "popular" blogs on here. this feels like you're implying my "big writer friends" are only my friends because of that. this is tumblr. it isn't some overused high school stereotype where everything is a popularity contest. people can just be friends because they get along and like each other. and, i don't know if you know this, when you're friends with someone usually you support the things they do. i like the things my friends write, so i support their fics. it's as simple as that.

you can do that without lovebombing their fics with the same nonsense keysmash this was amazing *insert random heart gif* review for every single fic until they’re forced to acknowledge you

i know that i'm a writer, but i am not good with compliments. i do my best to try and pick out my favorite lines or focus on the things that i really loved about a fic, but when i have to think of new ways to describe how much i liked something, my brain blanks, so i default to my usual compliments. i don't think there's anything about that that's lovebombing, and i don't think you really know what that word means.

also i have never once said that anyone had to acknowledge me or my rec list or anything else. i make my rec list and give my compliments as a way to show my appreciation, i do not expect anything back from any of the blogs i mention the same way i don't expect any type of interaction from anyone on tumblr. nobody owes me any kind of interaction, and i don't make my posts with that expectation.

it’s kind of cringey & i wouldn’t be surprised if it made some of those writers ur trying to suck up to really uncomfortable

i don't give a fuck about being cringy, if you find my rec list cringy then that's your own problem.

however, i would like to say that it was not and is not my intention to make anyone uncomfortable with my recs, and if what i've said in those comments has made any of the writers i mentioned uncomfortable then i am truly sorry. i am more than happy to untag you or remove you from the list or whatever you'd like to make you comfortable. this was simply a way for me to highlight the fics that i've enjoyed each month, but i do not want to do that at the cost of making someone uncomfortable.

we all see the same popular writers all the time...people want to see new & small writers or writers who don’t get a lot of notes not the same fics from the same writers that always get rec’d

anon, i don't know if you know this, but you can also make a fic rec list. i'm just one person, i'm not going to see every single fic from every single writer. there are fics i'm going to miss, writers i'll probably never see. i can't help that, and it feels a little unfair of you to put that on me.

if you're tired of seeing the same writers, then reach out to other writers!! make your own fic rec list with new writers on it!! or if you're that desperate to see certain writers on my rec list, then, like i said, my askbox is (almost) always open for people to send me recs.

maybe next time try finding actual smaller writers in here & giving them valid reviews instead of ignoring them &making them feel bad for not being good enough to make ur omg best writers ever 💜 list each month

you'll probably get a lot of joy from knowing this, but i think this part actually bothered me the most out of this entire post. i'm very concerned with the idea that people think i'm purposely ignoring them or that my fic recs are making anyone feel bad or like they aren't good enough.

this was just a fun way for me to show fics that i like and give my appreciation to the writers without getting overwhelmed or worried that i wasn't doing enough. it was never meant to make anyone feel bad about themselves in any type of way, and i am so unbelievably sorry if i've caused anyone to feel like that.

i do my best to find new writers when i can. i check every recommended fic tumblr gives me, i scroll through the for you page, i even go through character tags, but the problem of it is, i just don't have enough time to look through every single hour of every day. i try, i really do, but i'm not going to be able to see every single fic. i'm in no way trying to be hurtful or rude, it's simply a me problem that i don't have a solution for.

my reviews won't change, nor will my monthly rec lists. i do the best that i can, i enjoy making these lists, and i haven't heard of anyone else having a problem with this except for you. i'm sorry how i do this has upset you this much that you felt the need to send this to me, but i hope that you can come to realize that none of this was done with harmful intentions and maybe take this as a chance to make your own rec list and shoutout some of those fics that you feel i've been ignoring.

[s7arcr0sser]

I have to get this off my chest because I've seen these two get misunderstood a lot already, and with the little attention the pairing is given, maybe it's time to contribute some. If you're willing to read this please just keep an open mind, i understand that Buzz and Ozma aren't the fandom's favorite pairing especially because of the appeal some other non canon ships have (even i see it - i don't blame anyone for it) but it really makes me sad when bias influences people's ability to enjoy things outside of their main interest.

***i should also emphasize that this is just how i interpret it - the beauty of art is that it's subjective***

It always tics me off whenever someone says that Buzz is arrogant or anything of the type. The creators of the show describe his character as "...his biggest flaw is that he believes in his own legend." He's confident. He's overconfident even, which isn't without reason considering he has nearly 100% success rate. It's easy to confuse the two but the difference is in that, he does not belittle anyone and doesn't feel threatened by someone being as good as him or even better. There are times when he has joked at other people's expense (notably - Opposites attract, Speed trap and Plasma monster) but here's the catch - he always learns and by the end makes up for it. It's because he's not the stoic emotionless type of hero, he has personality and sometimes says things he doesn't fully think through. His whole team, Buzz included, loves throwing jabs at each other all the time, their goal never is to genuinely offend.

That leads to my next point. He always means well. Again, he never belittles ON PURPOSE. It's more or less confirmed he's introverted - before Team Lightyear, he worked alone and still loves spending time on his own. That means he likely spent most of his time around Warp and not much of anyone else, his communication skills aren't great because he focuses on his job too much and hasn't spent much time developing them. Sometimes he misses social cues and misunderstands situations or how people feel. He wasn't a jerk to Ty on purpose, everyone is constantly outdoing each other to praise his achievements so he had no idea it annoys Ty to pieces. The moment Buzz found out how he truthly feels he did everything he could to make up for it.

It's a recurring theme that Buzz isn't crazy about wildlife, it's not just his interactions with Ozma but the whole episode Dirty work is about that very topic. He's stubborn and because that's so far removed from his usual line of work he tries everything he can to use his old methods rather than to try something newer. Little by little he gives into it once he starts to allow himself to understand.

That character only cares about their working field, is willing to completely disregard anything that's outside of it, no matter how that may seem unethical to everyone else, and because they haven't gotten enough perspective from the other side they don't see why that's wrong, but is slowly learning throughout the show and could have gotten more development if the show continued.

I'm talking about Ozma this time. See how that can apply to both of them? Ozma is just as wrong as Buzz and they both can get across as irrational, but they actually are trying to protect what they believe in. Buzz doesn't care about nature and Ozma doesn't care about people - directly opposing fields, they are fighting for what the other would sacrifice. That's why their clash is so interesting, they have EVERYTHING in common, with just one difference that's so detrimental that it completely overwhelms their relationship.

Just like how Buzz is misunderstood to be arrogant, Ozma is misunderstood to be cold. She so isn't in the slightest. She treats the ugliest, most dangerous and scariest beast with utmost care and admiration, she gets excited at the sight of a rare specimen even if it could bite her head off in a second, and would risk her safety just to study or help it.

It's people where her enthusiasm dissolves, she is presented as introverted as well which is why sometimes she says things that don't come across all that great. Sure, sometimes she doesn't care because she's not interested in socializing, but she sometimes just doesn't know (example - the bloody water and floating guts comment in Beasts for Karn).

I gotta admit, it also confuses me how Buzz could come off as misogynistic towards Ozma - dammit that guy went in and memorized the most boring stuff in the universe (in his opinion) just to go in and try to impress her. He respects her work greatly - it's just in a field he's never cared for until now. Ozma could've been a male character and it would've been the same thing, because it's not Ozma herself that Buzz doesn't understand, but it's her cause.

He frankly just doesn't know how to act towards people he's interested in or that are interested in him. That's why he gives her unwanted validation - he's just genuinely impressed with her, which is why he's interested in the first place, but has no idea how to express it. He doesn't think any less of her.

Ozma was willing to team up with Zurg to protect the millennial bugs, Buzz was willing to kill Karnian beasts to get back on track with his mission. Both are just as bad, we gotta admit that. But throughout the three episodes we see them together, we see them learn to make more and more compromises for each other. They learn to see the other's perspective, and in their last chronological episode Return to Karn, they barely have fights at all (sure, there's a bit of banter, but it's nowhere near as agressive as it was before). I would kill to see how it would have progressed further.

She just reminds him of himself too much. Remember Good Ol' Buzz? He could barely stand himself because of how stubborn, abrupt and close minded he can be. It's the same thing with Ozma! She has the same traits, and so does he, and it turns into a screaming match until it turns into something else. Because that's just how they are.

So how the hell could this ever work for them? Simple - they are the only ones that could understand each other. With any other partner it would be "you chose your career over me!". If Buzz wasn't an awkward mess he could pull anyone he wants - he wants Ozma because she doesn't care who he is. Because she's brilliant, assertive, a badass and fearless. Because he has to prove himself and it doesn't come easy for him. If she doesn't care for his reputation, why is she interested? For the same reasons - he's just an awesome and determined person. He doesn't give up and believes in everything that is good, to the point of naivete. Because if anyone can give you hope in humanity's goodness, it's him.

And as much as I want to add the darker layer that Ozma might also be subconsciously reminding Buzz of Zurg but from a safe distance, that's a bit too much of a biased interpretation, and we might not be ready for that talk yet.

If you've read all of this, you're crazy, and thank you for coming to my ted talk

[connectionterminated13]

Can I ask about some more details for Sammy and Jessica’s relationship and how that happened (I love these two as a couple and I just want to see your interpretation of them)

I've been itching to talk about this haha ha

Well they weren't exactly friends as kids. Like Sammy hung out with Jessica because Charlie was there. He didn't really talk to her at all after Charlie's death... In fact the next time he spoke with her was at a charity event in New York he was running In 2003, They immediately recognized each other and had a great time talking about Charlie and what has happened in their lives since. After that Sammy asked her out on a date and after that date there was another and another until they were dating... They finally got married in 2009 :)

They're very much a power couple, Sammy being the owner of fastbear entertainment and Jessica doing a lot of the designs for the newer animatronics. Jessica herself is still not all the way comfortable with the company (She still has nightmares about FNAF 2) But understands Sammy wants to leave all that nasty stuff behind and make the company better. All of those ghosts and other horrible things that were unexplainable she saw was just malfunctioning technology and lack of sleep.

They had their one and only daughter in 2018, After years of trying and failing. They named her Charlotte for obvious reasons. Sammy and Jessica love their daughter with all of their hearts.. After Charlotte Their lives were pretty peaceful. The worst thing that would ever happen to Sammy is a couple lawsuits or the odd attempted true crime documentary about his company.

That was until fazbear frights opened.. Sammy couldn't shut the place down because of parody law. Jessica tried to tell him that it was okay just another person spreading stupid rumor. But Henry told Sammy that this small stupid attraction in Florida had the chance of ruining the business completely. Sammy didn't believe a word his father said a feeling there was something going on. So he played the part of the night guard fighting off Spring trap for a week. It was easy enough for Sammy to figure out that there was a man inside the suit. Which just made him more curious. He didn't tell Jessica because he knew that she would tell him too stop.

On the fifth night Jessica got worried about her husband and this weird convoluted plan he had to shut down this basically Meaningless attraction. So she hired a babysitter and left Charlotte at the hotel and drove over to the attraction. To find it on fire Sammy still inside. Against her better judgment she rushed into the burning building quickly finding Sammy whose head had been slammed into the monitor repeatedly. She was able to drag him out, With minimal to no damage but Sammy's face And body was severely burned.

That year of the fire was one of the worst of Jessica's life. She spent every night in the hospital with Sammy. Charlotte didn't understand what happened to her dad and why he had to stay in bed since she was only 5 years old. And Sammy wouldn't explain what happened to him. Not when he was loosed at least sometimes he'd mutter in his sleep about monsters.

After he got out of the hospital things got back to a new normal. Sammy was more Distant and wasn't as physically affectionate as he used to be but was still the same caring man that Jessica had married. He spent a lot more time at work planning out to this thing called the "pizzaplex". These things were pretty chill until fnaf 6.

Jessica at first thought it was just one of Sammy's pop-up pizzerias And made the mistake of taking Charlotte there. Overall the experience was pleasant for Charlotte but Jessica made the second mistake of accidentally running into Mike. Their meeting was pleasant enough Jessica tried not to mention the stench and Purple skin (She understands what it's like having people ask those kinds of intrusive questions because of Sammy's burn scars). But when she got home Sammy was the Scariest she'd ever seen him. He nearly broke into tears when he found out that His wife and daughter were fine. He begged her never to go to that place again and never to talk to Michael again. Jessica didn't really get it.. but agreed. A week later the restaurant burned down with Sammy's father inside. Jessica did a lot of consoling Sammy after that.

Their relationship hits a Rocky patch after help wanted. Jessica had no idea about the VR project and was slightly disgusted when she found out what it was about. She ignored a lot of the things said about fazbear entertainment, She tried to forget the fact that her Sister died in one of those restaurants. But to make a game a game played by children about what happened was horrifying to her. Sammy tried to explain it away and somewhat succeeded but their relationship was a bit Rocky after that. Sometimes the 2 would be together and Sammy would look down at his Digital watch like something horrible was happening, Or start texting someone well the 2 were at dinner or something. Jessica tried to ignore it Sammy was still the same man that she loved. And sometimes things were good between them but it wasn't the same

[imaginethezeldaverse]

Thinking about Yunobo and forced proximity…

Oh...you and me both, darling. If you could only hear the noise I made.

ANYWAY, here you go! I'm gonna borrow from my initial idea on this

It was just meant to be a simple retrieve. At your request, Yunobo had finally let you into one of the nearby newer digging site of YunoboCo - where large geode clusters were discovered. He was aware how much you enjoyed geodes (though to the Gorons it made for a pretty tasty morsel more than anything else), so giving you an opportunity to chip away at a few walls to take some home was the least he could do for his friend! He personally stood watch as you carefully tapped away here and there, small clusters breaking loose for you to stow away in the small satchel you brought with you. "Sheesh, I don't know how you do this all day," you huffed, wiping some sweat that beaded at your forehead, "All I've done is use this little mallet and I'm tired." Yunobo laughed softly at your plight, swiping at his cheek with his finger, "I guess it's a little different when you're a Goron like me, huh?" Your gaze back to him read a playful 'No Kidding' before you turned back to the wall. In your concentration you didn't hear the sound of rubble start to shake above you. Some sediment fell nearby, catching the attention of the Goron. As he walked closer, a loud crunch sounded just above you both. You tried to look up to inspect the noise, but were instantly shoved into the cave wall. The ceiling of the cavern came crumbling without warning, shaking the earth beneath your feet and all around you. When you finally found yourself brave enough to open up your eyes, you were face first with the jagged surface of the amethyst you had been picking at. You tried to push off from the wall, but a solid form held you firmly in place. "Ngh...I'm sorry I pushed you..." came a strained voice. You were barely able to turn, but with some careful wiggling you peered over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of Yunobo covering you. Just beyond him were large rocks, pressed heavily against him - thus the reason, you imagined, as to why you were crowded between him and the wall. His hands gripped firmly into the wall at either side of your head, arms planted and tense in order to keep the wreckage from reaching you in any capacity - the weight of debris and sharpened geode scraping at the rock of his back. He saved your life, you realized, the severity of your situation dawning on you. "Yuno," you whispered, trying to swallow your panic, "Th-Thank you, my god, I...are you okay?"

He exhaled harshly, making sure to hold steadfast to the rock in front of you both, "I-I'm fine...you're not hurt, are you?" His breath tickled your neck, a small shudder zipping down your spine. Yunobo was close - far closer than you'd ever expected to be near him today, and it was trickling deeper hues into your cheeks. You were grateful he couldn't see your face right now. "Sir! You in there?! Are you alright?! Jeez, this is a mess!" shouted a muffled voice. "I'm alive, Drak, get the guys so we can pull back this rubble, I got a Hylian under here with me!" You heard a few short curses before the far off voice yelled, "On it! Hey! Fellas! We got an emergency!" and his voice would trail out of your earshot. Yunobo leaned forward slowly, his lips finding your ear, "Hey...you doing okay? It might be a minute before we can move." Truthfully speaking you were struggling. Not because you were scared, nor because you were uncomfortable - in fact, you've probably never felt safer knowing you had Yunobo to keep you that way. No, it was the fact that you were pressed into the wall, your body caged so...intimately against the Goron champion. The presence of his biceps at your head, the knowledge that at current all you could was be pinned by him; your head was beginning to spin. Even through the steel of his chest plate you could feel his warmth. You held in your shudder, "I'm f-f-fine, just...fine!" The squeak in your tone concerned Yunobo. His head tilted, inadvertently pressing closer to your shoulder and the side of your face to try to gauge your feelings. He pushed through his physical endeavor to lend you some gentle reassurance. A low whisper, "I'll keep you safe, okay? I'm not gonna let these rocks hurt you." Your nails bit into your palms, the hints of gravel in his voice from his exertion was making your abdomen flutter. Your flushed cheeks were inevitable at this point, you couldn't stop your body from being hyperaware of your proximity. Closing your eyes, you desperately tried to keep your composure, "I know, Yuno," shifting your gaze over your shoulder once more, your eyes were low under the length of your lashes, "...Thank you." It was his turn to blush, as he took in the sight of you beneath him. Were you always this...pretty? The more he scrutinized you, the more he realized just how flush he was against your frame. His chest was fully on your back, arms closed around you, his face slotted so closely to your own. If anyone saw the two of you like this under any other circumstance, they would think... Th-They would think...!

"Heave!" came a loud shout. The gritty noises of bedrock being shifted sounded behind you, several voices bellowing in cloaked panic. One by one the weight lifted from Yunobo's back, his reactionary sigh of relief rolling down your back before he finally moved off of you on his own. You inhaled a breath you were unaware you were holding, your nerves alight from the countless minutes you spent sharing a tight space with the mining president. Yunobo took your hand gently, taking careful steps to pull you from the refuse. "Needless to say, we're shutting this one down for a while, fellas" said Yunobo, his voice holding a tinge of exasperation; when he looked at you, his eyebrows turned up in worry - his expression was nothing short of apologetic, "I can't have what happened today happen again."

"SIR!" the hoard of Gorons echoed before heading off to grab their equipment. You looked on at Yunobo, whose hand never left yours. When he finally met your eyes, his brow was furrowed in a mix of anger and upset, "I..." he began, frown deepening. A hand laid atop his own, stopping his train of thought. Your eyes held such softness, "Don't...I'm safe, Yuno. We're safe. That's all that matters." So many things he wanted to say right now. The Goron champion internally kicked himself for putting you in harm's way...but clearly you would hear none of it. In your smile was kindness, sympathy. You knew he meant you no harm. He had nothing to apologize for, as you would tell him. Sometimes he swore he didn't deserve a person like you. With a rough sigh, Yunobo took his hand from yours to hover it behind your back, a simple gesture to show you out. "C'mon...I'll walk ya home." Come nightfall, your mind raced endlessly. The adrenaline of the accident had long passed from your nerves - now all that was left was the physical memory. He was strong, effortlessly so in his display of holding an entire caves worth of rock from even laying a pebble on you. Your body committed the warmth of his chest to recollection; the sound of his voice, the feel of his mouth so close to some of the more sensitive areas on your neck and shoulders, it was all so visceral. It made your thoughts seep into more sensual corners, a desperate craving for this intimate connection under different circumstances. Little did you know, at his place in HQ, a certain Goron was imagining the welcoming warmth of your touch as well.

[make-me-imagine]

Good Enough

Requests: "What is it about me that isn't good enough?" + "You're the most beautiful person I've ever met. Inside and out." + "You are my favorite part of every day." + comfort fluff with Hawkeye Requested By: Anon and @starlit-epiphany

Pairing: Hawkeye Pierce x GN!Reader

Warnings: Brief mentions of cheating, and also a kiss.

Words: 1.6k

-

You absentmindedly stirred your cold coffee as you stared off into space. You were the only one in the mess tent, which wasn't surprising. It was the middle of the night, and your shift had ended. You tried to sleep, but couldn't, so here you were, sitting alone in the light of a small lantern.

Barely registering that the door had opened and closed, you didn't bother to look back. Not even as someone as beside you. You only paid attention when you felt yourself nudged in the side. Looking over, you found Hawkeye staring at you, a look of concern on his face. You realized that it must be later than you thought if Hawkeye was off his shift now as well.

"Oh. Hi Hawk." You said casually as you sat up a bit straighter.

"Hi? That's what I get? I spoke to you for a solid minute and got no response. What's up?" He asked, before taking a sip of his coffee, wincing and promptley setting it back down.

You let out a small breath and shook your head. "Just tired" you smiled. "Couldn't sleep" You looked back at your coffee, unsure if you should tell him what happened.

It was hard enough for you that Hawkeye didn't have the same feelings for you that you had for him. You'd feel only embarrassed to tell him of your similar situation with someone else.

He nodded his head a bit still watching you closely. "Okay, out with it." He said a bit more forcefully, and you looked at him with surprise. "Come on you can't keep secrets from me." He said as he motion his hand at you.

'That's what you think.' You thought to yourself before you cleared your throat. "It's a bit embarrassing." You admitted.

"I wont laugh." He said as he raised his hand up, as if making an oath.

You smiled at the gesture, before letting out a long breath. "Uh, so, I've been, sort of seeing someone for the last few weeks." You paused and looked over at Hawkeye.

Part of you hoped to see jealousy cross his face, but you didn't really expect it. So when you saw him seem to adjust himself uncomfortably, you felt your chest tighten. "Oh, I didn't know that. Uh, wh-who is this lucky gentlemen? Or gentlelady, I don't judge." He quickly joked, and you rolled your eyes lightly.

"Patrick, the newer MP."

"Ah, yeah, I've seem him around."

You nodded your head. "Yeah, well...I thought he really liked me ya' know? I thought we had a somewhat serious thing going on, but earlier, when I went to do inventory, I uh- caught him in a rather revealing situation with a nurse."

Hawkeye watched your face fall as you said this, and he felt anger rise in his chest. He let out a deep breath and shook his head. "Bastard." He mumbled under his breath. "And I assume this is at least one of the reasons you can't sleep?"

You shrugged lightly. "I wish it didn't effect me so much, but, it does."

Your mind began to wander, and you started talking, slowly as you stared at the tent wall. "There was this guy in high school, I really, really liked, he even asked me to prom. But the day before, I found out he asked someone else instead, and went with them. Then there was a guy in college. I thought for a short while I was gonna marry him. Then he left me for someone else. And then-"

You stopped short, as you thought to yourself. 'And then there was you. The crazy, hilarious, but heart-felt and kind Doctor I fell head over heels for, who would never see me the same way.'

"And now Patrick." You said softly before shaking your head. "I guess I just don't get it. What is it about me that isn't good enough?"

Hawkeye felt his heart break as you said this, your eyes falling to the table as your face fell. How cold you think you weren't good enough? You were more than enough, for anyone. It was other's who weren't good enough for you. Including himself.

Leaning a bit closer to you, he spoke in a soft voice, but it was heavy with feeling. "Don't you dare think for a minute, that you aren't good enough for those guys. You are the one they didn't deserve. You are the one Patrick is missing out on. If he can't see that then he's a bigger idiot than I thought. You are kind, generous, smart, and brave. Look at me Y/n."

Tentatively you met his eyes, and he smiled softly as he continued. "You're the most beautiful person I've ever met. Inside and out." Placing his hand on top of yours, he seemed almost lost for words before he met your eyes again. "Hell, you are my favorite part of every day. You make me remember the good in the world, even out here, in the middle of this damn war. And if a schmuck like me can see that, they should too. But if they don't, then that only means they don't deserve to be anything to you, so don't waste your heart on them."

Your heart was pounding heavily, and your eyes burned hot as you listened to him speak. You never knew he thought that way about you, and a part of you wished he didn't. It only made you fall harder for him. Which in turn, only made you hurt more.

"Hell, if I was lucky enough to be with you, I would never let you go."

You felt your neck and ears burn hot at his comment, and you looked away timidly, pulling your hand away from his. "You don't need to say these things just to make me feel better Hawkeye."

He frowned, shaking his head. "Y/n, I'm not just saying them, I mean them, honestly."

You met his eyes again, and smiled, speaking in a joking tone. "And here I thought, I wasn't your type."

He tilted his head a bit. "And why would you think that?" He was not joking, his face held a serious expression.

You looked at him with a furrowed brow. "You're kidding right?" You almost scoffed.

He shook his head, and you felt your chest tighten. "Well, I mean, the nurses I see you with, they're all so different than I am."

"When was the last time you saw me with a nurse?"

You opened you mouth to speak, but faltered, actually thinking about it. You couldn't recall any time recently that you saw him chasing after a nurse. "I- I don't remember, but that's not the point."

"No, the point is-" he paused as he turned, swinging his leg over the bench to face you entirely, "-that none of them compare to you. And ever since I got to know you, none of them have shined a light to you. If I had less control over myself I'd probably follow you around like a love-sick puppy." His face fell a bit as he saw how taken aback you were. "But I hid it a bit to well didn't I?"

You nodded your head a bit as you swung your own leg over, facing him. "I had no idea. I thought you'd never be interested in someone like me."

A soft, almost sad smile crossed his face as he reached forward taking your hands in his again. "You're the first person I think I've ever met that I thought, or felt this seriously about. And I guess, that scared me. So maybe I did push those feelings away, hid them. But I do feel them. And.... I know you may feel like you can't trust me, due to my, admittedly amorous reputation. But I can assure you, I could never hurt you, nor would I ever want to."

You swallowed the lump in your throat as you gently squeezed his hand. "I trust you Hawkeye."

He met your eyes and smiled softly.

"And just so you know, Patrick doesn't compare to you either."

His smile grew bigger. "Now your just buttering me up."

You let out a soft laugh and shook your head, looking down at your intertwined hands.

"I'm sorry he hurt you." He added softly.

You smiled as you met his eyes, shrugged your head. "You're right, he isn't worth me wasting my heart on."

He smiled, almost proudly, before his face changed, showing a more timid expression. "Do you think I might be worth it?"

You bit the inside of your lip lightly as you resisted smiling. You nodded your head. "I do. And I don't think it would be a waste."

His smile grew as his eyes flicked between your eyes and you lips. Slowly, the two of you leaned closer, pausing as your noses touched, your lips only an inch apart. Your eyes met and they both shined with various emotion. Together, you closed the space between you, your lips meeting almost cautiously, before you both deepened the kiss.

Slowly, you and Hawkeye both let go of each others hands. Yours rose, one gently placed on his neck, the other gently grabbing his loose shirt. Hawkeye's hands cupped your face as he deepened the kiss.

When you both ran out of breath, you pulled away, resting your foreheads against one another as you stared at each other gaily. Gently caressing your face he pecked your lips quickly.

"I don't want this to end, but if we don't get any sleep, we'll be zombies tomorrow." He said softly, and you could see the exhaustion of the day in his eyes.

You yourself felt fatigue begin to wash over you and you nodded. "Only promise this isn't already a dream."

He smiled brightly, leaning in and kissing you gently.

"I promise."

xx End xx

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @caswinchester2000, @imaginesfire, @rexit-moMASH Taglist: @thatadroitgeek, @whimsical-daydreams, @meganlpie, @hybrid-omegaverse, @multifandomfix

[popculturebuffet]

Based on an ask where you ranked the Disney Afternoon pilots, how would you rank the pilots of each of the newer set of Disney cartoons?The cutoff I'll use is starting with the batch from when Disney moved all their cartoons to Disney Channel in 2018,I'll simplify it by not including the ones after Owl House to cut down on it being a mouthful,Pilots are Star Comes to Earth,Going the Extra Milo,Woo-oo,Baymax Returns,Welcome Home(Big City Greens), Anne or Beast,Tangled Before Ever, and TOH's pilot

Tangled is taken out as I haven't watched that one. And to compensate i'll add in The Curse from Ghost and Molly McGee (Since I haven't seen Hailey's on it or hamster and gretel yet and i've only seen a bit of kiff's first episode) and for my own amusement (and because this is my answer so I can do what I like), Moon Girl Landing.

I"ll also say before this ranking that most of these are awesome first episodes that sell what the series is at that point well. Disney is really good at pilots and first episodes.

9. The Lying Witch and the Warden: Case in point this is the only one on this list that.. isn't good. It has good moments, but as i've talked to at length with many fellow owl house fans, paticuarlly @jess-the-vampire the pilot is very ...

It beats you over the head with it's theme of "BE YOURSELF. BEING WEIRD IS OKAY", when the rest of the series does a much better job of expressing it's messages way better. It also hurt Camilla's character and reputation SO BAD that her next two episodes had to go out of their way to explain WHY she sent luz to what came off as a metaphor for conversion therapy in the pilot, show it wasn't that, show she came back right after to help, and have her accept luz as is. The character as she is now is amazing but how badly the pilot botched the assigment with her still left an impact on the series and it's the only one hwere where something in the first episode had to be course corrected this badly.

8. Baymax Returns: A solid tv movie and a neat way to bring back our squishy soft boy. I've only seen bits of this series but it's pretty good which given who made it isn't suprising.

7. Welcome Home: this is a weird one as Space Chicken was the first ep aired and produced, so my first impression of the series.. isn't this episode. Still as an INTENDED first episode it's pretty good, sets up Bill, Cricket and Tilly well. I just slightly prefer space chicken as, even with Tilly being slightly off, it showcases the entire core cast.

6. The Curse: A really good opener that sets up who molly is, why she needs brighton to be her forever home, and who scratch is and why he needs a friend. I also love the scene with mollys family finding out about scratch.. and after the shock wears off all taking it in stride to his massive annoyance.

5. Moon Girl Landing: The most recent pilot here and it's up so high for a reason. This show is fantastic and the opening does a really good job fleshing both Lunella and Devil out while also having a throughly memorable villian that gives it real personal stakes. Sure we know the family rink won't be gone in the first episode, they spent the money making that setting, but the power going down in LES and so many people's livelyhoods being in danger gives realistic stakes to "Genius 13 year old and giant red dinosaur fight elctro daughter".

4. Anne or Beast?: Another banger. Ugly Ugly Hero is still a tremendous line and it gets across our core 4 incredibly well. Also we have a slug instead of betsy for some reason who I love only because I love slugs and snails. Such shrively little guys.. or big guys in this case. Where did that snail go? Whose his agent? Am I now his agent? It's remakable how fleshed out everyone is from day one in almost all of these. I mean granted as we've seen these aren't the PILOTS but even so many series still take time to get a grasp of the cast. Amphibia and what we're about to see had it day one. 3. Star Comes to Earth: While Star Vs had a weak finish i'll probably never entirely let go it had one hell of a strong start. Star Comes to Earth tells us everything we need to know about who star and marco are. Granted Marco being the "Saftey kid" never comes up again, but it served it's point: to show Marco's a bit in his shell and cautious but wants badly to not be the responsible one, and Star provides a way out of that. Also once again we have a gag that's damn perfect with "I'm a magical princess from another dimension". It's remarkable how in just 11 minutes they set up pretty much everything for season 1 and a lot of things for the series: Star's reckleness and how she has a pretty loose grasp on her magic but a great one of combat, marco's martial arts and safteyness, his awesome parents, star's disapproving mom and ludo and co. It's a snappy 11 minutes that really sets the tone for season 1. I really shoudl revisit it with a proper review.

2. Going the Extra Milo: Speaking of things that need a proper review hot damn do I love this episode. Just thinking back to it, it does what a pilot should do and I know I keep repeating myself but that's because a good pilot is setup, showing you who these characters are (even if they can sometims be slightly off) and showing off the premise. In this case it keeps it simple: Milo meets Zack, who as a new kid serves as a perfect window into the weird shit that happens to milo.... while also showing us why he can be so chipper and happy despite the worst happening to him. The "How can you live like this scene" Is really what lands this so high, showing that milo rather than see his constant misfortune as a terrible thing.. sees it as having fun lifethreanting adventures every day. He gets to have an intresting life and Zack sees that being around milo is dangeorus.. but it's also a lot of fun. And that more importantly.. milo's one heck of a guy. Melissa also gets a lot of fleshing out as we both see her faith in milo via the side bet and her hustler nature. Had this show actually got proper promotion this would've been another hit on this pilot alone. Alas we got what we got.. and at least the two seasons we got keep this level of quality up.

1. Woo-ooo!: Look ya'll know I love ducktales, so you likely saw this coming.. but even loving me some ducks woo-ooo is just .. objectively the best on here. It does everything I said a pilot shoudl do while also having some really gorgeous shots like scrooge putting his money in the bin o rthe sweeing intro of duckburg. I'll grant it has more time than most pilots but really it does a LOT of it's character exposition in the first 5 minutes: within that we get who the boys and donald are and where scrooge is now, while the rest shows us who he was and will be again, introduces webby, beakley and launchpad and even sets up the series final villian. The second half adding in Glomgold is just gravy at this point. It's honestly weirdly LESS awkward than the rest of early season 1, where it seems they struggle more to find the shows identity while this.. shows they had the core of it from the start.

[nixiaus]

instead of us, only i remain.

Pairing: Jack Kline x Gender Neutral!Reader (can be read as platonic or pining best friends)

Genre: Angst, fluff (only in flashbacks)

Warnings: Major character death (Jack is dead in this whole fic), there are a lot of flashbacks, a bit of bitterness towards the Winchesters, also the bold italics sentences are the lyrics, set after Jack's death in S14, but before his resurrection in S15

Summary: After Jack's death by God, Y/N struggles to deal with the memories of Jack that resurface in the bunker.

A/N: Okay, so this is my first Supernatural fic! This is based on the song Winter Falls by Stray Kids, so feel free to listen while you read. My requests are open, just read my rules first, please!

Watching Chuck, God, burn the life out of your best friend had easily become the worst thing that had ever happened to you. Yes, you had been with the Winchesters, friends who were like brothers to you, through multiple apocalypses and tragedies, but watching the sweet boy you'd grown to love die hurt you more than you could've ever realized.

But now you do realize. You realize as you stand in Jack's room filled with memories the two of you shared during his short life. From your place right in the door frame, you can see the books you bought him the first week Sam and Dean brought him home.

I am still standing in the same place reminiscing about our old days.

"Hi, Jack!" You wanted to make a good impression on the kid, not only because he was Lucifer's son and could go rogue at any moment, but also because... so far, he seemed to just be a sweet, albeit confused, person.

"Hello, Y/N. What's in the bag?" Jack asked you, curious because you never seemed to come into his room, rather always catching up with him in the kitchen or library.

"Okay, so, I was at the bookstore and I wanted to bring you back something, and then I realized you've probably never read a book. So, I got you a couple!"

A couple was the understatement of the year. Another reason Jack had even asked you what was in your bag was because he could see your arm shaking with the weight of the filled tote bag. There was, at minimum, 10 books in the bag that you brought to him.

"Thank you, Y/N! You're right, I've never read a book. Which one should I read first?" Jack asked as you laid out all of the books you had purchased onto his desk.

"Well, probably the classics first. These," you gestured towards a stack of about 5 books, "are books most people have read and enjoyed throughout, like, centuries. So these are Little Women, Pride & Prejudice, The Great Gatsby, and a couple others I've never read. Those are what a lot of these newer ones are based off of, generally." 

As you looked around Jack's room you got a sense of emptiness with the lack of personal items he owned, or more importantly, the lack of interaction he generally had with others. With how Jack was literally beaming at you, you could tell how happy you were making him by bringing him these books you enjoyed and thinking about him while you went to the store.

"Thank you, Y/N! I can't wait to read them all!" Jack pulled you into a tight, uncomfortably tight actually, hug and you smiled, hugging him back.

As you pulled away, you made an offer to him.

"Sam and I used to read books together, just in the same room to keep each other company or talk about what we were reading. Do you wanna read with me?"

When Jack nodded enthusiastically, that began the journey of your closest friendship.

When tears started welling up in your eye, with your nose burning, you closed Jack's door as you left the room. Sitting here thinking about the boy that had become your best friend in such a short span of time was something you didn't think you were ready for.

Passing Sam as you rounded the corner into the library, he saw your tears and heard your sniffles. "Y/N... I'm so sorry. I'm here for you, so is Dean, anytime you want." 

Although you were still incredibly angry with both of the Winchesters for attempting to lock Jack in the Malak box, without even telling you, might you mention, you still appreciated the way that Sam was trying to be there for you. 

"Thanks, Sammy. I'm, uh, I just... can't seem to stop, you know? My mind's running a mile a minute, I feel so jumpy, like there's something I should be doing to get him back."

"I get it. Even though the literal God killed him, we've cheated death so many times, it feels like we owe it to him to try. But there's nothing we can do, Y/N, the only person as powerful as Chuck is Amara, and well, Jack." You could tell Sam was trying to console you, make you realize that the anxiety you felt about being idle was useless, but in actuality it was making you feel like shit.

"Right. Well, I'm just gonna sit and watch a movie to keep my mind off things." You said with a heaving sigh. With that, Sam gently smiled at you and kept walking his original route to do Chuck knows what while Jack sat and rotted in the Empty.

As you plopped on the big leather couch, you were reminded of the first time Jack ever watched a movie.

"Y/N, what is "The Hulk?" Jack asked with his eyebrows upturned, the same habit you had gotten used to while hanging out with him as much as you did. 

"He's a superhero from a comic book-turned-movie series. He's this brilliant scientist but he turns into a big green giant with anger issues." You explained to him patiently, as by now, you'd gotten hundreds of questions from the boy about pop culture, music, science, and other things. Although sometimes the Winchesters took the time to explain, you were the one who ultimately showed Jack the answers to his questions.

"Do you wanna watch the movies he's in with me? It's called the Avengers." You asked him, already getting up to find the DVD collection you had of the Marvel series.

"Yes, that would be awesome, Y/N. Thank you."

You two sat a normal distance apart while binging a couple Marvel movies that night, but by the time you were falling asleep, you were lying in his lap, with his fingers gently massaging your scalp. Jack had a touch of gentleness when it came to you, you could see it, hell, everyone could see it.

As your eyes began closing, you had to ask, even with the sleepiness in your voice. "Jack, why do you treat me differently than everyone else?"

Jack looked down at you in his lap and smiled. "Because you treat me differently than everyone else does. You're my best friend, at least that's the conclusion I've come to. I like being around you, your energy always seems to... make me feel warm. Like when it was snowing and you bought me a winter coat. You're kind to me, more than anyone else. You make me feel human."

With a sigh, you got up from the couch and went to lie in your own bed. This was the only place memories of Jack didn't seem to plague you, as Dean yelled at him rather loudly when he tried to enter your room. Something about your "purity" or whatever the hell he wanted to hate Jack for that day.

Looking at your wall clock, you saw the time was 09:14 PM. 

Days shorter, nights longer; Freeze, melt, repeat.

It seemed like each day without Jack lasted a single minute, you saw Sam once, you saw Dean every now and then, you'd remember things you now want to forget, then retreat to your room. The same cycle every. single. day. Then in your room, the passage of time seemed to slow to a standstill, the times when you were alone was when you could let go, and sob your lungs out, remembering a warmth and a care you'd never felt before Jack and never will feel again. 

Jack wasn't your first "best friend," but he certainly changed the definition for you. He seemed to literally feel when your emotions would change, the first time you met him, you were anxious and he immediately smiled at you. Jack was incredibly perceptive, always calming you.

We were holding hands... back then it was a warm winter everything was beautiful.

Winter was always your least favorite season. The snow dampened the sounds of the world, made you cold, and made the world that much harder to bear. You hated being cold, everyone who knew you knew that much.

This was Jack's first winter and he watched the snow trickle down from inside the backseat of the Impala on the way back from a hunt that you, him, Sam, Dean, and Cas had all done together. You two and Cas were all crammed in the backseat, and his head rested on your shoulder.

"You keep shivering, Y/N. Are you cold?" Jack asked, shifting his head to look at the side of your face.

"Yeah. It's really cold in here. I hate the winter because of it." You miserably told him, with your teeth chattering, despite the fact that everyone else seemed perfectly warm in the car.

"I can hold your hand, if you want. I saw in a movie once that it made people warmer." Jack told you from his place on your shoulder. His innocence made you beam so widely, he was honestly a bit surprised and confused at why you were smiling.

Honestly, Jack didn't really seem to understand that was more of a romantic aspect to fiction. But you were already a bit more warmed at the fact he even cared enough to hold your hand, despite the fact he's not really initiated much physical contact with people other than you and Cas.

"Sure, Jack. I'd like that."

"When we get home, we can drink hot chocolate and eat soup. That was in a few of the books you gave me." 

"That'd be great, Jack. Hell, you might just make me like winter if you keep up with this." 

You two held hands for hours on that drive back to Lebanon. By the time Cas woke you up, you noticed you had taken off your coat in your sleep anyway. It seems you were warm enough with Jack.

You didn't think you could keep sewing yourself back together just for the seams to keep coming loose at night. Every night you were weeping into your pillows, Jack's pillows, that you had taken off of his bed. At first, you even slept in his room like you were just waiting for him to come back after a hunt with Cas. 

Cas, who before he left, came to your room and told you that you could always call him or pray to him, and he would be there for you.

Even though he had tears in his own eyes, Cas reached down and wiped yours and looked into your eyes.

"Y/N... you made Jack so happy while he was alive, I could see it, I could see how brightly his soul shone when you made him laugh or showed him a song. He appreciated how loved you made him well, and I appreciated it as well. You know... you can always pray to me, call me, and I will come. Or one day, you can come with me, too. Thank you for making Jack's life bright in the moments it was too dark for me to guide him."

You knew Cas to be a man of few emotional words when you first met. He had grown over the years, becoming more sweet, more caring, more human. And with Jack, he had become something like a father, a bit different than it was with Claire. You knew that you caring about Jack had warmed his heart and made him even fonder of you. 

But he didn't know how much that made you fond of him. 

"Cassie, you know... Jack is, fuck, I mean... Jack was the kindest person I have ever met, with or without his soul. And that is largely due to you, I saw so much of him in you. So much of how you were when we first met and yet, so much of you now. Looking at you, sometimes, all I can see is him," You said, looking down at your hands.

"His curiosity at a world he hadn't yet integrated fully into, at things he didn't understand, but his tenderness at it too. Thank you for everything. I understand why you're leaving, and I wanna tell you, too, that I am one, single, call away. I will always be here for you, so will this bunker. Fuck what anyone says." You finished, finally looking back up at Cas and pulling him into a tight hug, not unlike hugs you'd given each other in the past.

"Goodbye, Y/N."

With Jack's death came another loss you saw coming almost immediately. Cas being gone was something you had dealt with many times with his numerous depatures, but it felt different this time. He wasn't dead, or taken, or on a hunt, or running from something. Cas left for a reason, a reason which you can't refute. 

You can't say you were in disagreement with his leaving, you were thinking of the same. But what would you do? Where would you go? You couldn't leave Sam and Dean, even though they were complete asses to Jack, they'd always taken care of you and you were infinitely grateful. 

But... after all these years, maybe it was time to go. After Jack, you don't think you could stay with them anymore, this was harder than they thought it was. Maybe you could honestly go with Cas, you always seemed to click well.

So you wrote a note.

To Sammy and D... 

I'm sorry to leave without talking to you first. Honestly I think we've probably talked enough for you to get why I'm leaving. Sam, I know you hear me crying at night, I know why you make me chamomile tea every morning.

And Dean, I know you try to make things as normal for me as possible. But the truth is, none of this is normal anymore without Jack. So, I'm leaving, I'm going with Cas. I'll be safe, not reckless, and I'm keeping our angel safe, too, okay? Don't worry about us.

I love you both so much. Thank you for caring about me all these years, thank you for everything. Thank you for bringing Jack to the bunker and giving me the opportunity to meet him. Okay, my wrist hurts, I need to stop writing now.

Goodbye, my brothers. From, your Y/N.

After a few quick tears, you wiped your face and grabbed your friendship bracelet Jack had made you a few weeks before his death and slid it on.

"Cassie? Castiel? I'm packed, I'm ready to go." You prayed to your angel, with your backpack on and a machete in hand.

Cas quickly appeared, another gentle smile on the seraph's face.

"Okay, let's go."

I'm okay now. Yeah, I'll be okay.

[acacia-may]

Can I request for Finral and Langris for your new ask game?

Absolutely, Anon-friend! I have so many songs for them, you have no idea lol. 😅

Your song and headcanon are below the cut. Thank you so much for asking about my boys 💚💙 and for playing my song + headcanon game!

I have posted about several of my favorite Spatial Mage Brothers songs here already, but for your ask, I've chosen a newer one (at least for me) and gone with "Never Love An Anchor" by The Crane Wives even though it is somewhat of an angsty song.

In a lot of ways this is probably a Langris song just in general since there is something about lines like "There is love that doesn't have a place to rest, but it would have buried you if it had settled on your shoulders" that just scream Langris Vaude to me. He has such a deep and intense capacity for real, selfless love and devotion for the select few he chooses to care about (his brother, Finesse, William, Yuno ect.), but it's very difficult for him to express that, especially to Finral (i.e. "These hands of mine were clumsy, not clever. And I tried to do the best that I could, but try as I might, I couldn't bring myself to hold you"). There's this element of wanting to protect himself from getting hurt (i.e "Do you ever think of me and my two hands? ...And wonder why they never had the chance to lose you?"), but at the same time there is also this element of wanting to protect his loved ones, in this case Finral, from getting hurt by him because he sees himself as "selfish," "broken" and "cruel." There is something about that line "you'll never see the reasons I had for keeping my claws away when they were close enough to hurt you" just gives me chills when I think about it in the context of Langris and Finral's strained sibling bonds.

Also, I think there is something so fitting in this anchor and ship analogy for Langris and Finral given their personalities and the paths they have chosen in their lives. Finral really is like a boat leaving the "harbor" of House Vaude and all the duties and responsibilities that being part of a noble house entailed, joining up with the Black Bulls, and finding a new life for himself, whereas Langris is absolutely the anchor--steady and tethered unquestioningly to the life that is expected of him: bound by his duties and responsibilities. I think in a lot of ways, Langris does worry that "a ship could never really love an anchor" and so I think he really did "sever the rope to set [Finral] sailing from [his] harbor" and tried to close of his heart to his brother--afraid that he would one day just leave him (again). The poor boys...if only they would talk about this, but alas... (I still have hope for them yet though💙💚).

Never Love an Anchor (Lyric Video) - The Crane Wives - YouTube

Related (somewhat angsty) Spatial Mage Brothers' headcanon:

Though Langris would never admit to it, he did think of Finral after his brother left House Vaude, if only on holidays or Finral's birthday (but more often than not, other times too just painfully reminded of him and missing him more than he cared to admit). There were many times he wrestled with the idea reaching out to him for his birthday or a holiday, but he always stopped himself--could never bring himself to do it since he was too scared of being abandoned and rejected again.

Meanwhile, he received a card from Finral on each and every birthday, major holiday, or other big occasions. He never opened them, but he couldn't bring himself to throw them away either, so he kept them in a box and someday (in the future) when he is strongly considering permanently reconciling with his brother, he pulls them out and reads them until his eyes start to grow misty with the realization that he brother really had loved him all along even when he was away.

[kimium]

I asked @m34gs what she thinks the Twisted Wonderland house warden's favourite video games are. She answered in this ask and prompted me to give my thoughts. So, here I am!

Here are a few ground rules: I'm going to pick games I've personally played or had experience with. Also, if a game is in a series and I think they're very similar, I'm listing them together.

The House Warden's Favourite Video Game

Riddle - Kirby: Nightmare in Dreamland

Wow, I'm really outing myself with how many Kirby games I've played, huh? Well, I'm not sorry. When I was a child I LOVED Kirby: Nightmare in Dreamland. I loved the simple world design, the fun, easy mechanics, and the bright colours/music. It's also a fast game. Even as a child I think I beat it in like six hours. Anyways, I think Riddle would enjoy this game for those reasons. It's something he can lose himself in briefly and have fun. I know there are probably better Kirby games out there and newer ones at that, but the childhood nostalgia wins in the end.

Leona - Tetris

I really love your pick of Mahjong for Leona. Honestly, the desire to just go "yeah, what M34GS said" or pick another tactical game like Chess, Checkers, or even Go. But, I decided Tetris is also a good pick for Leona. As you said, Leona isn't one to care too much about video games, so he isn't going for one with story... like I do. He needs a low risk game with just enough puzzling. So, Tetris. It's fun to arrange things, does require some level of strategy, and is very satisfying when you win. Leona can also put it away at any time, so this means he can nap when he's bored or done.

Azul - Don't Starve Together

While I sort of wanted to pick a murder mystery game with Azul, Don't Starve Together has resource management. Which, I think is right up Azul's alley. Sure, the game has a "survive in the wild" vibe, but Azul is there trying to optimize his strategy, gather everything, and not die. He can also play with Jade and Floyd if he wishes, but there is a high chance those two would sabotage him. Azul will take that risk though, and I think those three would have a lot of fun. It's also a casual game, so he can put it away without worry of story or progress.

Kalim - Harvest Moon (any of them)

I agree that Kalim deserves a relaxing, slow game, without much conflict or objectives in it. While I think a game franchise like Animal Crossing also works, since I've never played an Animal Crossing game myself, I'm picking Harvest Moon. I think Kalim would find it very fun to build his farm, befriend the locals, solve whatever problem is occurring, and marry his favourite NPC. I didn't pick a specific Harvest Moon game simply because I only have experience with two: the original and The Tale of Two Towns (I think... I can't check right now). Besides, Harvest Moon all has the same "flavour" so to speak, so I don't think me specifically stating which game is necessary.

Vil - Super Smash Bros (any of them)

I agree that Vil would love a co-op game that he can play with his close friends. I also agree it has to be easy and with low stakes. Sure, SSBs has "meta units" and an entire competitive video game scene with the game, but I think Vil would play this as a party game. It's casual with everyone just picking their favourite characters and stage. There may be some sabotage (a must) and items on (deadly) but in the end, everyone is just playing to have a good time. Who Vil mains is up to you.

Idia - TWEWY/Neo TWEWY

The urge to pick a mobile game like Genshin Impact or an open world game like BoTW or TotK is high, but I want to avoid gacha games in my list and... I've never played BoTW or TotK. Sorry. So, I picked a personal favourite of mine: The World Ends with You and the sequel. I picked this because I think Idia is the kind of person who gets into the story of a game and enjoy the characters. TWEWY has some amazing characters, great story, amazing music, and of course, the essence of Shibuya packaged into the entire game. I also think Idia would love the game play, enjoying swapping his pins out for better ones, and enjoy the extra challenge modes.

Malleus - Pokemon Yellow/Red/Blue (or Green)

Okay, here is the problem: I think any sort of pet simulator game is great for Malleus, however, I dislike pet simulator games. I'm here for story and lore... which I think is the opposite for Malleus. But here is the thing while Pokemon has a narrative and many components it started off super simple: go around and catch Pokemon and go to the gyms. While newer Pokemon games have introduced so many things like Beauty Contests or an open world design, I think the old games are perfect for Malleus. He'd enjoy creating his team and nicknaming them. I bet he'd be delighted to learn that there are dragon type Pokemon in the world too. Sure, he may struggle with some more "meta" components but at least in the older games we didn't have Mega Evolution or newer Gens and BST to worry about.

There you have it! I hope you like my list! I had fun picking the titles while also trying to keep in line with the characters!