#oath of the midnight sun

[berserkerbarbie]

🛒| Some shinjin kouen stage photos of Zun from ザ・タカラヅカ VI 宙組特集

Oath of the Midnight Sun

The Rose of Versailles -Oscar-

Gone with the Wind

Legend of the Galactic Heroes

[0bticeo]

lurk | feyd rautha

part four of five. (part 1.) (part 2.) (part 3.)

summary:

“i need you,” he rasps, etching a molten kiss on the dip of your collarbone. “need to get rid of his taste.”

his hand crawls up your thighs, the folds of your velvet dress gliding against your skin. you can still hear the soldiers outside, feel the low thrum of their clamour in your very bones. should you focus, you’ll perceive the baron’s suspensors sucking away at gravity, the servants’ roaming about, feet like neelde-ants on cold marble.

anyone could catch you.

“what are you waiting for, my lord na-baron?”

wc: 1.6k

tw: political machinations, reader being inches away from killing everyone in the damn place including feyd, kissing, biting, mentions of breeding, possessive & needy feyd, sub!feyd, oral (fem receiving), fingering, hallway sex.

you’re getting tired of dreams. 

there’s terrible, terrible purpose dripping from their edges. you see it all - snapshots of horror, fractals reflecting endless bodies dropping to the ground. sixty one billion people, dead. ten thousand worlds burning, the universe begging for respite under your brother’s crushing fist.

paul. little mouse, whom you’ve shielded all your life, whom you’ve sparred with, crysknife pressed against his throat, his shield a feeble protection against your blade. something shatters. blades. so many of them. your blade. jamis’ blade. feyd-rautha’s blade. 

your dream has you standing in what you know to be the emperor’s ship, shrouded in bene gesserit veils. two silhouettes stand against the bleeding sun of arrakis. 

the realisation embeds itself in your mind, marble-carved. fate is looking down upon you and tells you: one of them dies in the end.

when you wake up, there’s a scream dying on your tongue.

you don’t know where you are. you don’t know where you are, why your side is on fire, why you taste blood in your mouth.

slowly, you rise, heart beating furiously, breath laboured. i must not fear. your fingers dig your sheets. the infirmary. fear is the mind killer. you close your eyes, will yourself to breathe. fear is the little-death that brings total -

a hand settles over yours, bone pale fingers weaving with yours. warmth settles on your shoulder. you relax, ever so slightly, leaning into the touch, burying yourself in the crook of feyd-rautha’s neck. he’s all sharp edges, honed to deadly perfection. in the quiet midnight of geidi prime, he softens for you.

“what troubles you?”

you wonder if you should tell him. of the golden path, paved with blood, so much blood it clings to the soles of your feet, you see it rise, rise, eager to seize you-

a low mumble of your name.

“dreams are messages from the deep,” you whisper in the crook of his neck. 

his hold tightens over you, brings you closer to the warmth of him, thumb running over the smooth skin of your belly, over your unborn child growing there. from your position, you can feel it, the way his vocal cords vibrate. he’s purring, soothing you bit by bit.

you tilt your head, hand coming to cradle his face, knuckles brushing against his cheek.

“i should be plotting your death.”

a low chuckle, a flash of almost eagerness in his eyes.

“i don’t doubt you will.”

his hand wraps around your neck, resting on the soft skin of your throat, bringing you closer to him, shifting your bodies until you’re straddling him, arms wrapping around his neck. you could strangle him. you could use the voice. ask him to take the knife you know rests on the bedside and slit his own throat like the harkonnen beast he is. use it yourself.

but you’ve sealed your fate the moment you stepped on arrakis. so instead, you let the darkness swallow your confession.

“i don’t want you to die.”

“i won't,” he mumbles against your lips, words like an oath as he kisses you.

they say the beat of a butterfly wing can cause a tempest on the other side of the globe. you wonder what tempest will be borne out of the fury beating in your chest. here goes: morning comes. the spice rules it all, even the baron’s affairs, so he gathers his troops to make a planetary governor out of feyd-rautha. 

the glorious sun of geidi prime shines its lifeless light upon you all. 

the finest harkonnen soldiers, ruthless hounds barking their sovereign’s name in fervent adoration, thousands upon thousands of ants stretching as far as you can see. they corrupt it all the harkonnen, eating away at the horizon. waiting. 

you’re waiting, too, hands folded before you, lone silhouette clad in dark robes, veils like a mask before your face. bene gesserit, the court calls you. 

not quite.

by bearing feyd-rautha a child, you’ve gained a modicum of respite. the bene gesserit will spare you, the mother of their precious kwisatz haderach. they will keep your survival a secret and bury it behind inscrutable eyes.

plans within plans within plans. you’re a pawn in the baron’s meaty hands, he’s a pawn in yours, and the bene gesserit have been pulling the strings for ninety generations. 

your gaze flits to the scene before you. feyd-rautha harkonnen, clad in dark leathers, silver embroidery like pauldrons over his shoulders. the mass of his uncle hovers above him, a hovering beast eager for power. two meaty hands encompass his face - absolute disgust coils in your chest as you watch vladimir harkonnen kiss his nephew. he kisses back. a show of dominance.

the soldiers howl his name, earth trembling under the clamour. they salute, arms crossed over their heads, a living, breathing organism, synchronicity at its peak. 

arrakis has a new ruler. 

a hand clasps over your wrist, drags you away from the adoring masses, in the sweet darkness of the palace’s hallways. you’re pinned against the wall, and feyd-rautha looms before you, terrible hunger burning in his eyes. slowly, he lifts your veils, high enough to bare your mouth to him. 

“my lord-”

you’re cut off by his lips on yours, eager, desperate, savouring you like fine arrakean spice-wine. 

“i need you,” he rasps, etching a molten kiss on the dip of your collarbone. “need to get rid of his taste.”

his hand crawls up your thighs, the folds of your velvet dress gliding against your skin. you can still hear the soldiers outside, feel the low thrum of their clamour in your very bones. should you focus, you’ll perceive the baron’s suspensors sucking away at gravity, the servants’ roaming about, feet like neelde-ants on cold marble.

anyone could catch you.

“what are you waiting for, my lord na-baron?”

he nips at your ear, grin sharper than his blade as he sinks to his knees. slowly, intimately, a shadow curling at his mistress’ feet. he unravels you, nails raking up your thighs, liquid desire burning in their path. 

“eyes on me.”

your eyes snap open. oh, he’ll be the death of you, with the way his eyes freeze you in place, willing, begging for his touch. you shiver, a low, needy sound escaping you. 

he grins, a flash of black teeth against the liquid darkness of your robes. shadows will swallow you whole - he will swallow you whole. already is, with the way he trails kisses up your thighs, teeth sinking in the meat of it until blood drips on your skin. 

he’s lapping at it, hands wrapping around your leg, spreading you apart inch by precious inch until he fits the broad expanse of his shoulders in the space he’s carved for himself. he raises his head, leans his cheek against your thigh, nuzzling in its softness. there’s blood coating his lips, sweet like forbidden fruit, and an unquenchable fire in his eyes.

“exquisite,” he purrs, nail digging in the blossoming mark he’s left, until your hips seek his touch.

he puts his mouth to you. you bite your lip, hard, as you feel him tease you, tongue lapping at you like sweet pomegranate, skilled fingers coaxing pleas for more. the cold of his silver ring has you keening - you're melting against him.

it’s obscene, how the only sounds you can hear are the pleased moans of your lover, the squelching of your juices dripping down his face, his wrist. it’s too much, too fast - your nails dig into his nape, bringing him closer. fucker’s purring, hands digging in your hips. he’s making a feast out of you, and you’ve never seen prettier sight. 

feyd-rautha, kneeling at your feet, a pretty, pretty blush dusting his cheeks, his soft mouth on your cunt, ruining you as he denies himself sweet release.

“feyd-”

a jolt - he’s just nipped your clit, and you’re falling apart with his name on your tongue, burning, melting in the pits of desire. you grow boneless, faltering on unsteady legs. he pulls you to him before you can fall, kissing you, moulding his devouring mouth to yours. 

distantly, you register that he’s breathless, that he’s pressing you against him, that you can feel the dampness at the front of his pants.

his voice is a low, needy rasp.

“you taste divine, my dear.”

there’s a commotion. someone, somewhere, is calling. a servant. a feast is prepared. blasphemy - the baron is a beast, and he will not have his nephew leave without obscene amounts of food. good. it leaves room for you to plan - you’re running out of precious, precious time. there are too many variables for you to act alone, yet you are.

you’re sitting at feyd-rautha’s side at a banquet table. on you watch, a mockery of a bene gesserit, nails digging in your palm. there’s a knife before you, of course. the baron’s sitting at the head of the table, stuffing himself until he’s about to burst. 

repulsive.

you could do it now. put an end to the harkonnen, avenge your family. plunge that knife in the baron’s throat and watch him die like an animal. 

but revenge is best served cold. you remember princess irulan being seated in front of you. you remember the emperor at the head of the table. you remember his knife slicing through unknown poultry. a falcon. he’s doomed your family to death. 

the emperor is old. paranoid. anybody would’ve seen that the atreides were far too loyal to even consider rebelling against him, rising influence or not. someone convinced him otherwise. the truthsayer, reverend mother gaius helen moriam. 

you take a bite of your own meal and find it tasting like ash. the only dish you yearn for is revenge.

you want the baron dead. you want the emperor stripped of his power. you want to watch the split second of horrified realisation on the reverend mother's face. 

you want them to burn, and burn they will.

taglist: @kpopnstarwars @moonsoulk @alexandrainlove @saturnhas82moons @coureurs-de-bois9 @kamcrazy123 @beebeechaos @avidreader73 @yzuposts @jaiuneamesolitaiire

[vall-the-pen]

You kept me like a secret, but I kept you like an oath

Synopsis: trying to spend time with your boyfriend while keeping your relationship private… or a secret…

Content: Alhaitham x fem!reader, low-profile/secret relationship, angst no comfort, writer!reader,

Warnings: slightly toxic if you squint, guilt-tripping, neglect, arguing, long intro (it gets good i promise), cursing, not proofread

Note: (Title from Taylor Swift’s ‘All Too Well (10 Minute Version) (Taylor’s Version)’) I tried to make this as in-character as possible while trying to convey the conflict of the plot so please let me know if there are any inaccuracies

—

The walls of Lambad’s tavern grew dim as the sun set; you, Tighnari, and Kaveh sat at a table having a little get-together. It didn’t feel complete, though, because two members of the group have yet to arrive. Cyno said he would be late due to an interrogation he has to do. And Alhaitham… he didn’t really give a notice but you all figured he was busy, being the acting grand sage and all that.

After a 30-minute rant about Kaveh’s clients, you talked about writing a new novel but you had no idea how to start it.

“Questions are overrated,” said Kaveh as he downed his drink, “I suggest you start with an at-large murder suspect being chased down by government officials—not guardes or the millelith, literal government officials.”

“You could ask Cyno for inspiration,” Tighnari suggests. You consider the idea but you figured Cyno wouldn’t have the time. “Or you could ask Alhaitham. I remember he has some experience in that field too.”

“Ah, yes,” you reply meekly. “I had forgotten.”

Hearing Alhaitham’s name felt like a stab to the heart, a curse laid upon you. You weren’t sure if it was out of love or suffering. After two years of dating, not a single soul knew about the two of you. As you asked yourself why that is, you give yourself an excuse that he simply wasn’t ready to be out. That he wanted you to make a name for yourself in case people would only remember you as the acting grand sage’s partner and not your rightful title as a writer.

When he first introduced the idea of keeping your relationship low-profile, you thought nothing of it. You knew he had no ill-intentions with the situation, so you agreed. But you thought the coast would be clear 6 months into the relationship.

During that time, the only signs of affection you got from him were when he was seldom tired from work and came home to you, longing for your warmth and drowning you with the most beautifully crafted compliments you could only dream of hearing. It was the side of him only you got to see. It was almost an honor being able to witness such greatness, all the while feeling like a goddess, worshipped and gratified by the gift of your presence.

Nowadays, you no longer felt like a deity worth praying to; that side of him became rarer than it already was.

The times when you were together—together being with the rest of your friends—you would always try to make some sort of contact with him just to feel the thrill of love your heart was aching to have, only for him to starve you of it and leave.

You felt alone, neglected, desperate, nonexistent, like a forgotten dream worth pursuing.

Everytime you thought of leaving, frames and fragments of his flattering psalms and echoing touch seemed worth the mind-numbing pain you’re going through. You’re the only one for me, he’d say. I don’t know what I did to deserve you. He would gaze upon you like you were a full moon, and you would embrace him like he was the sun.

But basking under the sun is bound to get you burned.

About an hour later, already midnight, Cyno had already arrived but Alhaitham was nowhere to be seen. Kaveh has had too many drinks and is now drunk to the core. And with the hopes of seeing Alhaitham’s face for once, you drank your fair share too. Your cheeks glowed with a drunken flush, a fire setting aflame to your frozen heart. Something he could never do.

“Looks like the acting grand sage will not be joining us,” Cyno pointed out.

A guffaw escaped from your throat, “What is there to even expect, Alhaitham has been busy since that damned Azar did… something.”

You can’t think clearly. The laugh you let out almost sounded like a sob, and to be honest, you were on the verge of crying. You were just tired. You needed the warmth only the love of your life could provide.

Then out of the blue, the voice you longed for an eternity echoed through the tavern, tired and monotonous. “Apologies for my utmost tardiness, there were some issues at the akademiya I needed to handle.”

Alhaitham.

Your stomach hurt all of the sudden. You watched as he walked to the seat opposite of you. Shouldn’t you be happy now? You were just about to break down because he wasn’t here. Now that he is, you should be content and watch your boyfriend from afar. But all you could feel was betrayal, the blank agony of despair, the cruel sting of rejection.

He failed to notice the tears that glossed your eyes, assuming it was the reflection of the light. Your gaze pierced his soul with desperation, begging for him to console you and just… do whatever. You were asking for even a squeak, a sliver of concern, the bare minimum.

“Tighnari, how is Collei doing with her studies?” Like he had a shield for your painful daggers, he didn’t even glance at your direction. Disappointment filled you like a glass of wine. You should be used to this by now—the overwhelming weight when he avoided your leg, another desperate cry you needed him to hear.

Tighnari shared Collei’s progress after seeing that you were okay. As much as you were proud of her, you prayed to every archon not to let her be in your situation. Your heart shreds for the other person, it screams his name like a priest in worship, and all that for naught.

The group laughed at something, you weren’t listening all that much. You just felt… empty.

Kaveh’s voice called your name, “Isn’t that right, Y/N?” The group turns to you, who was dazed and distracted. The architect immediately noticed this. He patted your cold hand, “Y/N?”

“Hm? Ah, yes. Yeah, sure.”

Alhaitham laughed, “You seem distracted tonight, Y/N. If you’re looking to write for the akademiya, that kind of attitude will not be tolerated.”

Somehow you got defensive. Was it Alhaitham’s obliviousness? The way he made it seem like you were aloof? His laugh that mocked you in your desolate state? Maybe it was all of the above. Whatever it was, it made you snap.

“Ah, Alhaitham, akademiya this, akademiya that—there are more things to life than work, you know.” Your voice covered up your attacks as simple friendly banter. You’ve gotten good at sucking up your anxieties and steadying your voice all thanks to him. Now you can cover yourself up real nice when you commit a crime. You have a knife in mind, and you’re ready to kill. “Like, I don’t know, a partner, per say.”

Stab.

The grand sage scoffed, “You know very well I don’t have time for such trivial things.” His muscles flex as he crossed his arms. So these were the words he chose to say to you, after centuries of broken promises and empty plates.

“Maybe you would if you actually made the time for one.”

Stab.

“You are aware that you just ignored what I just said, right? Are you even listening?”

Stab.

“Oh, I’ve been listening. For the past two years, I’ve been listening my butt out for you.” It was scarring how unbothered Alhaitham was; you wanted to scream at him. The tightening of your chest, the prickling of tears behind your eyes, the weight of despair settling in your stomach, could he see what you’re going through? “Now, all I ask is a little bit of sympathy because I have been suffering all alone, waking up to an empty bed, not even a-“

“Y/N, what are you talking about?” Alhaitham interrupted you, somewhat panicked. You didn’t realize how loud you were being, up from your seat with your palm stinging from how hard it hit the table. “You know, if you’re having boy problems, you don’t have to take it out on me. It’s not like I’m your boyfriend.”

Right then and there, your world began crashing down. “Alhaitham,” Cyno muttered disapprovingly, making Alhaitham realize how rude he sounded. The tavern’s customers hushed to listen to your table. You hadn’t realized there were so many people.

Without even looking around, you could feel their eyes on you, whispers riddled with scandal.

“They’re being so loud.”

“Has she no shame?”

“In the presence of Acting Grand Sage Alhaitham, too.”

“Look, the general mahamatra is there; she really needs to watch herself.”

The embarrassment, the anger; it all fuelled you with a feeling you could not explain. No metaphor could capture the entirety of the wickedness of a man. How come he gets to sit there with everyone’s respect while you grovel in your puddle of tears? How come he’s having the time of his life while you’re burning in hell?

“You’re right,” you began, eyes dulled and void of life—of love, “You’re not. Okay, that’s all the liquor I can handle, guys. I think I’ll be heading home now.”

“Y/N,” Kaveh called, standing from his seat to escort you on your way out.

“I can walk myself, Kaveh.” You grabbed your things and took a sip of water. “Acting Grand Sage, humblest apologies.” Once again, you looked at him with utmost disappointment before leaving the tavern and heading home.

—

I am adrift in a sea of longing, drowning in the silence of his absence, clutching to memories like driftwood in a storm-tossed ocean. Yet still, I cling to the fading embers of our love, fearing the darkness that awaits should I let them fade to ash.

Hours after you returned home, sleep had not been your friend. As much as it would be typical, you cried until your eyes stung. It was now 4am, the time Alhaitham usually wakes up. Lost in your never-ending, ever-agonizing thoughts, you stared blankly at the dining room, wondering if he will finally recognize his mistakes, how much pain you’ve been in.

The knob of your front door twisted open, and surprise, surprise, it was Alhaitham who entered your apartment. “What the FUCK was that, Y/N?” He was not one to raise his voice like that, or even curse.

“Of all the nights I was available, this was when and how you choose to talk to me?” Your voice was the opposite—calm, sad, empty.

“Do you realize you nearly told everyone about our relationship?” He spotted a notebook on your crossed lap and grabbed it. “What’s that, ‘I am adrift in a sea of..’ what? Y/N, is there something you’re not telling me?”

“You specialized in languages, Alhaitham, you’ll figure it out.”

The man scoffed, “I’m not a mind reader, Y/N, if you could stop being immature-“

“You’re calling me immature? Okay, what about you keeping our two-year relationship a fucking secret?” The both of you continued raising your voices at each other. If people in the tavern hadn’t already spread rumors, this will surely start them. “Just tell me you’re ashamed of me, Alhaitham!” Then the man fell silent. Serves him right. “Tell me you don’t love me, so you can have a concrete reason to leave!”

“You know being the acting grand sage was never an easy task. The Fatui and other rebelling organizations have me as their number one target, and they are more than willing to hurt anyone to get their way! I was keeping us a secret to protect you! Seeing you getting hurt would mean the end of the world.”

“Getting hurt?” You scoff, “If you never wanted me to get hurt, you’re doing a terrible fucking job. I had to sit through multiple tables with empty seats because you were never home. Do you know how embarrassing that is for myself? I had to tolerate every ounce of contact you avoided because ‘someone might see us.’ In case you couldn’t get how much pain I’m in, let me sum it up for you—IT HURTS MORE THAN DEATH, ALHAITHAM!”

As the last echoes of your argument faded into the silence of the empty apartment, it felt as though the very foundations of your world was crumbling around them. Each word spoken was like a dagger to the heart, tearing apart the fragile bonds of love that had once held you together.

Every word you said stung his chest, the last part beating him to a pulp. It was too late for regret to cross his mind. “I really did love you, Alhaitham, more than anything.”

Those words… he hadn’t heard them in what felt like eternity. All he wanted to do was melt into your arms and apologize endlessly for all his wrongdoings, the times he barely came home, the mornings he could’ve spent with you. He’s been feeling this way for what feels like centuries. If he opened his arms to you, would you still embrace him? Would you still forgive him?

“But I can’t keep giving myself excuses to tolerate all of this.”

He looked at you, your eyes that were once so full of light now dimming of any source. The desperation, the longing you both share. There was so much sadness in your eyes. Have you always looked at him that way? Alhaitham was always quick on his feet—he had to find a way to convince you to stay!

“Y/N,” he began, “We can’t just give up on everything we’ve been through. All the dates, anniversaries, everything we took our time to make—it will all be a waste if we give up now.”

“I think you gave up on us the first time you dropped my hand when I reached for you.”

You were slowly slipping from his grasp, from his future. “I’m willing to give you all the time you need. Every meal, every date, every word you desire, I will make time for all of it. I promise you.”

“How can I know this will be another empty promise? How will I know you won’t do this again? You were never the type to offer everything so helplessly, Alhaitham.”

“Y/N, can’t you see-“

“Where were you during my sleepless nights? Where were you when I had prepared the perfect dinner for us? Where were you when I stood in the middle of the park, waiting for a certain someone to show up?

You were never there, Alhaitham. But I forgave you for all of that. I gave you a million last chances.”

A million last chances… you were thinking of leaving him beforehand? When he couldn’t seem to move his mouth, you decided you’ve had enough.

“Please, leave.”

It was too late for him now. He was long gone from saving you, from saving this relationship. There was nothing left to say, or do.

In the dim light of dawn, you both stood alone, tears a silent testament to the shattered dreams and broken promises that littered the floor like shards of glass. And as you watched your former lover walk away, a part of you knew that the wounds inflicted that night would never fully heal, leaving behind nothing but the bitter taste of regret and the haunting echo of what could have been.

(Part 2 is out now!)

[captain-hen]

What do you think are the fandom ~~classic buddie fics?

i think this is a very subjective opinion, but i can tell you which fics i really love and constantly re-read—and which, in my opinion, should be read by everyone in the fandom :)

Leave the Light On (I'll Be Coming Home) by @hmslusitania Rated M | 44k | Completed Summary: An accident on a call leaves Buck with custody of Chris after Eddie is... missing presumed. While they navigate their new family circumstances—and fight to stay together, despite Eddie's parents' best efforts—a John Doe wakes up in a coma ward with no memory of his own life beyond the knowledge he has a son named Christopher and, somehow, he needs to get home.

a bleeding sun on a silver screen by rarakiplin Rated M | 130k | Completed Summary: One day, Buck will tell an interviewer that he would be happy to make movies with Eddie Diaz until the day he dies. But first, years before that, he sees Eddie for the first time on the set of Chimney’s fifth movie. (or, the actors au)

i want your midnights by @littlespoonevan Rated T | 36k | Completed Summary: In which Eddie decides to rent out his spare room to help with mortgage repayments right around the time Buck decides to move out of Abby's place after some not so gentle prodding from Maddie. It's a coincidence. Or serendipity. Or maybe just really good timing.

maybe we'll make something by @buckactuallys Rated E | 76k | Completed Summary: On a road trip with Christopher, Buck and Eddie finally work through their various traumas, and Eddie faces his parents again.

what a heart can do by @bvckandeddie Rated T | 86k | Completed Summary: In which Buck becomes the guardian of the daughter he never knew he had. Together, they discover what happiness truly means to them.

Hot Ghost Problems by ebjameston Rated T | 40k | Completed Summary: Eddie is the newest firefighter at the 118. Buck is the ghost haunting the 118. Unfortunately for both of them, Eddie's also a witch and needs to put Buck's spirit to rest, because that's what witches do. Turns out, Buck's spirit? Super not interested in being put to rest. Very interested, however, in flirting with Firefighter Diaz, who is just trying to survive his candidate year. (Also turns out, Buck? Super not dead.)

Both Blade and Branch by @cal-daisies-and-briars Rated M | 62k | Completed Summary: The chances of being struck by lightning twice are incredibly minute, but Buck still manages to pull it off. During a double date with Marisol and Natalia, nonetheless. Eddie manages to resuscitate him, but as Buck recovers from yet another trauma, Eddie can’t help but notice there’s something very different about him. He’s not quite sure what version of Buck he got back.

we're not in love (but the sex is good) by elless Rated E | 15k | Completed Summary: Eddie is new to LA. Feeling lonely, he goes to a bar for a drink and meets a beautiful stranger that kisses like a dream. What starts as a one night stand quickly moves to frequent no strings sex. When circumstances lead to them spending time together out of bed, Eddie realizes he’s attached to Buck in a way he never planned for.

for all the haunts and homes of men by euadnes Rated M | 113k | Work in Progress Summary: The year by the old calendar is 2025. Home is gone. Home is a failed rescue mission and an echo of a memory. Home is a lost boy living in a wooden house by the sea. But first, there was a promise. Christopher, when it's safe, I'll take you back to your father. Buck had all but given up on keeping it after the world had died and everyone in it. But just as some oaths refuse to be forgotten, so the same can be said about the endurance of love.

things we shouldn't do by Ingu Rated T | 21k | Completed Summary: The one where Buck and Eddie accidentally get set up on a blind date with each other, and everything snowballs from there.

[talonabraxas]

Mass of the Phoenix Hail Ra, that goest in thy bark Into the caverns of the Dark! East of the Altar see me stand With light and musick in my hand! I strike the Bell: I light the Flame; I utter the mysterious Name. ABRAHADABRA Now I begin to pray: Thou Child, Holy Thy name and undefiled! Thy reign is come; Thy will is done. Here is the Bread; here is the Blood. Bring me through midnight to the Sun! Save me from Evil and from Good! That Thy one crown of all the Ten Even now and here be mine. AMEN. I burn the Incense-cake, proclaim These adorations of Thy name. Behold this bleeding breast of mine Gashed with the sacramental sign! I stanch the Blood; the wafer soaks It up, and the high priest invokes! This Bread I eat. This Oath I swear As I enflame myself with prayer: "There is no grace: there is no guilt: This is the Law: DO WHAT THOU WILT!" ABRAHADABRA. I entered in with woe; with mirth I now go forth, and with thanksgiving, To do my pleasure on the earth Among the legions of the living. --The Mass of the Phoenix (technically called Liber XLIV or 44) is a eucharistic ritual written by Aleister Crowley, which first appeared in The Book of Lies, Chapter 44, in 1913. The Mass of the Phoenix is an official ritual of the A.'.A.'.

[crookedteethed]

DEPRIVED barbarism (2)

Pairing: University!Coriolanus Snow x Mysterious!reader

Summary: Taking two incompatible oaths showed weakness, but that didn't add anything to the immorality of Coriolanus Snow. 

WARNING: 18+ SlightyDark! Coriolanus, SlightMean!Coriolanus Dacryphilia, Smut (p in v) (Raw fucking), Mind-fucking kink, reader is referred to as an "abomination", Fem reader, mentions of violence, (Kinda) enemies to lovers trope, Ocs, bullying, voyeurism, Coriolanus pushes reader, long asf

Authors note: Part two finally posted 😌. First time posting smut 🫣 Hope you all enjoy!! <3 ily babes 💗

Part One

Coriolanus wasn't too fond of love. He hated it.

As much as love can make you feel like you're on top of the world, it can also cause you to feel like you're losing control over something bigger than you. The prosperities of falling in love were so vexing to Coriolanus.

Fennel Clearwillow claimed he loved his girlfriend, Hydra Farforge. Fennal and Hydra engulf one another in a sickening kiss, and Coriolanus almost gags.

Coriolanus didn't need to be in love with you to feel so annoyed. He hated your ability to make him go speechless—to make his brain completely disregard Dr. Gaul's assignment and just think about you. He most certainly hated that he didn't know where you came from.

Were you one of Dr. Gaul's mutations? It was a silly thought, but it wasn't utterly impossible. You could've been something constructed in a lab with the single purpose of throwing Coriolanus off. Or had you been a district turned Capital? It's been done before with the Plinths; it could've happened again with the Y/LN's. (That idea made him hate you even more).

Whoever you were, you didn't belong here; more importantly, you didn't deserve to be Dr. Gaul's subject.

It was a foreign feeling to Coriolanus, it was almost like he was in love with you, but surely he could'n't have been, you'd just met.

It was Sunday afternoon, and Coriolanus sat in the common room talking to Fennal and Hydra.

Fennal and Hydra both been majoring in art history, which, to Coriolanus, had been a useless major and couldn't help their futures.

Saturday night, Coriolanus finished his half of the essay. Once he'd left you in the archives, his brain was finally restored, and he got straight to work at his mahogany desk in his dorm room.

The poor boy finished his essay at midnight, got 5 hours of sleep, and had been up since sunrise. Coriolanus was on his third coffee of the day. Sleep ranged around his eyes, and he couldn't wait for the sun to go to sleep so he could go to sleep.

Nonetheless, Coriolanus was proud of his essay and couldn't wait to see you and Dr. Gaul so he could throw it in both your faces.

"Hey, look." Fennal snaps his finger. "It's Coryo's ghost friend." He laughs.

There you were, again, standing by the common room door, looking more timid than ever. Like it had been the first day of grade school, you walked around shyly, hoping someone would offer you a spot on the monkey bars.

Coriolanus rolls his eyes and tsk. "We're not friends." He spats.

“Oh, please Coriolanus. The way you two are always underneath Dr. Gaul, there must be some connection between you both." Fennal says.

You and Coriolanus haven't been seen together with Dr. Gaul yet, but I'm sure anyone can piece together your similarities in this predicament.

Hydra cocks her head. "That dress." She says. "I've seen it before. Perhaps, on a district during the reaping ceremonies?"

Your dress had been acceptable to Coriolanus. To him, your natural knit, quilted cotton dress had made you look even more like Tigris porcelain dolls.

Despite this, Coriolanus still joins in on the laughter.

As you walked, you felt the three sets of eyes burning on your flesh; you had a sinking suspicion the laughter coming from them was about you.

Their lingering looks made your walking go stiff.

“Hey, living dead girl!” You hear Fennal shout out. You turn to the three of them, confusion on your face. Both the boy and the girl sitting beside each other, you’d seen them around campus. Never spoken to them; you haven’t talked to anyone, really.

Then there he was.

The other two had simply looked at you out of pure excitement; Coriolanus, on the other hand, looked at you like he wanted to fight or fuck you… you couldn’t tell.

Fennal motions for you to come and join them, and with curiosity, you comply with his command.

You sit beside Coriolanus—a slight look of discomfort changes his appearance.

“Coriolanus.” You greet him first since he is the only one you know.

“Y/N.” He says, disdain in his voice, palming his face.  

"I'm Fennal, and this is my girlfriend, Hydra." 

You smile and wave politely, still confused on why they invited you over here, semi-confused on why Fennal called you "Living dead girl."

"I couldn't help but notice your dress." Hydra says. "My, how beautiful it is. Where'd you get it from?" Coriolanus saw right past the falsity of Hydra's words; too bad you were too stupid to, he thought. 

"Thanks, I made it myself." You say.

"How original. Sewing major?" Hydra asks. 

"Advance military strategy." You correct. You and Coriolanus had been studying the same Major. 

"And what materials did you make your dress out of? A districts bathing towel?" Coriolanus asked. It was a low blow, so low it made Fennal and Hydra laugh loudly in the quiet common room. 

Now you knew why they were laughing at you before. He saw your face flinch in a pensive sadness; Coriolanus didn't care. He considered his comment payback for you, saying he couldn't read. 

Still laughing, Hydra puts her hand on your knee. "Don't get yourself in a fret, he's just joking. Isn't that right, Coryo?" 

Coriolanus hated the nickname coming from Hydra's mouth, but for the sake of it, he let it slide. 

"I was?" he says. No one hears that this is a question. 

You were tongue-tied. Similar to the way you had (unknowingly) tongue-tied Coriolanus. 

Say something, you tell yourself. Say a comeback, Say something about his clothing. 

You scanned over Coriolanus for the second time today (The first time was when you first stepped foot into the common room). Again, you found nothing unusual about Coriolanus Snow's appearance. The boy cleaned up very nicely. 

All you could bring yourself to do was push Hydra's clammy hand off your knee. You decided to ignore Coriolanus. 

“So, where are you from, Y/N?” Fennal asks.

“Right here in the Capital, of course.” You say.

Coriolanus makes a noise. You would’ve mistaken his little ‘tsk’ for a sneeze if you weren't sitting close to him.

“What was that for?” You say.

“What was what?”

“Coriolanus, don't play dumb; you tsked; why did you tsk?”

Coriolanus lets out a boyish smile. “Nothing…it’s just that--” he says lowly. He straightens his posture, and that boyish smile fades.

He looks at you as if he wants to fight you. “That’s what you’re telling people, Y/N?”

Hydra's eyebrow raises, and you clear your throat; Fennal still cackles from the bath towel joke.

Indeed, he doesn’t know. You thought.

“And what might I not be telling people?” You say. 

Coriolanus noticed your hand picking at a string of your handmade dress. To him, this action of nervousness egged him on.

Coriolanus purposedly chose not to respond too quickly; he liked the edginess in your face. He ravished in the control he had over your emotions at this moment: from curious to tongue-tied to on edge. 

“That you’re an abomination.” Coriolanus said. You jutted your chin.“You aren’t supposed to be here.” He continues. 

“Oh, Coriolanus do tell.” Hydra instigates. 

From being on edge to a slight pouty look on your lips, tears were bound to roll down your cheek at any moment. This is what turned Coriolanus on. He was initially neglecting the thought, purposedly mixing up love and hatred as the same thing. 

He couldn’t neglect the thought anymore when he felt the confinement of his slacks becoming more confining. He crosses one leg over the other to hide it. 

“Y/N’s is one of Dr. Gaul’s mutations.” Coriolanus says, with a slight poshness in his tone. “One of the lab assistants told me.”

Fennel, who’d just stopped laughing from the previous joke, starts laughing again. This time, louder, more tauntingly. 

Coriolanus watches you intently, waiting for that one tear to fall. 

“The capital just lets in anyone these days.” Hydra says in disgust. “An abomination.” She hums. “The abominable Y/N.” Hydra laughs. 

It hadn’t been funny to Coriolanus, but he laughed louder than Fennal, just for the sake of that one tear. 

Coriolanus hadn’t been right in the slightest way, so? Why were you letting his words control you? 

You leave, not saying a word to the three of them. A plucked string of your homemade dress sits on the edge of where you sat. Coriolanus picks it up and plays with it in his hand. 

“My goodness, Coryo, who knew you could be quite a jokester,” Fennal says, trying to catch his breath. “A jokester, yet callous.” 

Coriolanus stuck daggers to you as you left. “It was a joke.” He said. “Just a little joke.” 

Coriolanus wanted you to leave, forfeit your position as Dr. Gaul's subject. What wasn't a better time than now to tell you this after he just made you cry in the common room? 

After you left, he followed you to the 3rd floor of the girl's dormitory. The last room down the dark and narrow hallway is where your room resided. 

Coriolanus begins to pound on the door, but he stops when he notices your door is cracked an inch open. Involuntarily, he peeks through the crack. 

He saw nothing but your single bed and textbooks in stacks on the floor. Coriolanus hadn't realized what he was doing could label him as "Panem's biggest creep" until you came into view. 

You started shedding off your homemade dress as if it were snakeskin. 

Give her some privacy, he told himself. 

But wait, what was that? You throw your homemade dress in the waste bin. But why? You were so pretty in it. Coriolanus felt partially at fault. 

When he saw your flesh-tone-colored undergarments, this is when the thought of being "Panem's biggest creep" didn't sound as bad to Coriolanus, only if he could still become President (possibly with you on his side).

You'd notice the door hadn't been fully closed, and when you go to close it, there's a forceful grip held to the doorknob. 

Coriolanus Snow was standing right before you, with a grip so tight on the handle. He hovered over you, barbarous by depravity. Deprived of what? Love, lost, taking his anger out on someone. 

Dark clouds surrounded his eyes, his blond curls fell on his face, and his breathing was quick, shallow. 

You do the best of your abilities to cover your body by wrapping your arms around your frame. Coriolanus takes notice of the hem of your panties peeking under your elbow. 

“You got some nerve, Coriolanus Snow. One minute you’re making a laughing joke out of me and then you’re spying on me like a perv. You’ve really done it this time. I’m going to tell Dr. Gaul—No—I’m going to tell the whole school--”

As you rambled on, Coriolanus thought how small your porcelain doll-like frame was compared to his skinny yet lean one. He felt he could devour you whole if he wanted to.

“Shut up.” He tells you in a low murmur. 

You keep going. “No. I’m going to tell the whole school what a pervert you are, and then I’m going to tell the whole school how illiterate you are, and right after I become Dr. Gaul only subject, I’m going to have you sent to the districts. Then you can creep on the woman down ther—”

“Shut up!” he screams, pushing you down to the shag carpet. 

Coriolanus hovers over you, looking down on you (how he likes it). The little light that peeks through your curtains casts a shadow on his face.

God, he hated you.

You must’ve hit something when he pushed you down because you rubbed the back of your head with a pathetic look on your porcelain face. 

As much as Coriolanus loved having you below him, he stooped down to your level, a slight smile forming on his lips from your subtle whimpers.

Fear heaves in your chest. You think he will do something when he raises his hand high enough to be a slap. You flinch when he drawls his hand closer to your face.

You flinch again and close your eyes tight, waiting for a loud CRACK to come.

But it never comes.

You slowly open your eyes and hear low laughing coming from Coriolanus.

You avoid his eyes; too much hatred filled in them. You pay attention to the subtle rise and fall of his chest. It’s in that moment when Coriolanus brings your face to him by putting his thump to your chin.

His cold touch to your soft skin makes your body shudder.

Coriolanus kisses you.

One peck of a kiss. It was experimental on the Coriolanus part. He wanted to see how your lips would feel.

When the two of you split, you’re the one to go back for seconds

This kiss lasted longer than the first; a string of saliva connected you both by the lips as you departed, only to go to the third.

You feel his hand starting to snake its way from your thigh and to your core.

When you feel his hand cup your pussy, you let out a prolonged moan, resulting in Coriolanus biting down on your lower lip. You do the same as him, twice as hard, hoping you'll draw a little blood.

Coriolanus lets out a low mewl as he moves his fingers to the hem of your panties—the warmth of your cunt still lingers on the palm of his hand.

You help him pull your panties down in one quick motion; your mouths still swap spit while you start grinding on his bulge. You both moan at the friction of your bare wet cunt rubbing on him, leaving a small damp snail trail on the crotch of his slacks.

"Coriolanus, we should stop." You mutter between kisses. You had no intentions of stopping, and neither did he. Coriolanus tells you to shut up.

Amid grunting "Fuck” you start pulling down Coriolanus' pants along with his boxers. You start whimpering as you feel his wet pink tip nudging at your damp entrance.

Coriolanus thought about fingering you to prep you for his length, but he wanted you to hurt as well. So, without any warning, he pushes himself into your femininity in one complex, relentless thrust.

“Shit.” You gasp at the sharp feeling piercing your core. You feel his girthy length protruding into your cervix.

To Coriolanus, the feeling was like sliding into a glove-like tub, with soft gel walls contracting around his length.

His relentless pace starts to slow down as he hides in the crook of your neck, relishing in the pleasure that comes from being stuffed inside of you. Tiny whimpers escape from his lips.

You both feel the warmness spread inside your bodies; it takes away both your problems for the time being, and both of you can forget about the mean stares or hurtful quips.

Your lips met again; it’s another innocent peck. Coriolanus goes back to his hard, relentless thrust.

“Deeper, please.” You whine.

So, he sinks himself deep.

Still thrusting inside of you, Coriolanus positions your knees to your chest, your feet dangling over his shoulders. He puts his whole body weight on top of you, smooshing you like a printing press.

"Fuck." He curses under his breath.

Coriolanus looks down at the obscene picture of where your bodies are connected. It was the wet sounds coming from both your bodies and the shade of beat red that coats both your private parts that got Coriolanus drooling—a string of spit leaks from Coriolanus's mouth and onto your chest.

It's when you slowly start to feel your plateau creeping when you move Coriolanus's hand gripping your hair (ironically held at the spot where you bumped your head.) and move his hand to your clit.

Coriolanus caught onto your subliminal messaging quickly, and he used his slender thump to press down on your tiny nub of flesh. He felt the pulsing sensation from your clit to his thump.

The slow pulsing of your clit becomes fast pumping throbs the closer your peak comes. The extra stimulation on your clit was phenomenal, but it was Coriolanus's needy panting that sent you over the edge.

You feel yourself clench tight around his cock before you were coming undone.

In one long sigh, you limply lay as Coriolanus still fucked you raw. You close your eyes as you let him penetrate you.

A few mere sloppy thrusts later, Coriolanus finds himself twitching inside you from the look of stupefaction on your face. Shortly after, you feel his hot liquid spurting inside of you.

He falls on top of you, just as dazed as you. The both of you stay like this for a while: Coriolanus laying on top of you, a sweaty mess, cock still buried inside of your cunt; now and then, you'll kiss his temple, or he'll stroke your cheek.

At some point, you both move from the floor to your bed, finding solace in one another's presence.

You break the comfortable silence first once the realization is set. "My mother can never find out about this."

This is when the realization sets in for Coriolanus. It was your lingering, the way you'd always linger around Dr. Gaul and her laboratory. "Dr. Gaul is your mother." He states.

You hum, crawling over him to get out of bed.

"Y'know, you almost had me nervous back in the common room; I thought you knew." You scoff.

Coriolanus intently watches you as you go to your dresser, pulling out a fresh set of pajamas.

Gaul with children, a peculiar thought.

"Why hasn't she ever mentioned you?" Coriolanus asks. 

You sigh. "She doesn't want people to know I'm her daughter, as much as I don't want people to know she’s my mother. It's a bad look for her, I think. A mutation-obsessed woman with the redeemable qualities of a nurturing mother?”

You tsk. 

"I'm taking a shower." You say. "Care to join me?" 

Coriolanus dismisses you with a "sure" and tells you he'll meet you in the bathroom in a second. 

As he watched you close the bathroom door behind you, Coriolanus had this nagging thought gnawing into his brain.

Y/N is going to win, He thought. 

Indeed, you were going to become Dr. Gaul's single subject; you were her daughter.

Yes, snow always landed on top, but snow eventually melted and became puddles of water; what was thicker than water? Blood.   

Coriolanus saw your portion of the essay lying neatly on your desk. He'd been eyeing it ever since he'd come inside of you. 

Coriolanus once swore that he would never let a woman come between him and what was important: winning. 

He found joy in watching the ones he hated fail and found more joy in watching the ones he hated watch him win. 

The fact that you two had sex wasn't going to change anything for Coriolanus; after all, you were his competition.  

As Coriolanus Snow left the 3rd-floor girls' dormitory, a sly smirk splayed across his face as he tore your essay apart and threw the shreds into the trash. 

The gesture wasn't as callous as he wanted, but it'd be one of many to ensure he'd win. 

[storiesbyrhi]

Witch!Reader x Bat/Vampire!Eddie Munson Series Masterlist The Grimoire The Timeline

Warnings: canon typical violence, horror genre typical violence, swearing, animal death, no beta, warnings updated each chapter.

Synopsis: No witch has stepped foot in Hawkins since 1845, but when Vecna opens the ground and poisons the town, a voice begins to call to you. Have you been brought back to this cursed place to heal the townspeople’s wounds, to save a hexed bat that always finds its way to you, or to redefine your history with a reunion 150 years in the making?

Chapter Summary: Bury a candle and give allegiance. 2740 words.

1986

Time had passed since you’d delivered the final line of the spell. Nine minutes, to be precise. You’d said the words, then got off your knees to sit more comfortably on the tiles, your back to the wall. Edward sunk into the bath, letting the water come up to his shoulders.

“We’re almost done,” you whispered. “You have to bury the candle.”

As he dried off and dressed, you retrieved a glass from the kitchen while making a mental note to add clothes to your shopping list.

Carrying the glass of the powered bathwater, you lead the way outside, through Forest Hills, and out to the small wooded area you’d first crossed paths with him. A few neighbours watched you as you went by, but most were busy packing to leave Hawkins.

The vampire dug a small hole and placed the candle in it, then took the glass of water and poured that on top. He covered it up and stood by your side.

“It’s done,” you confirmed. “How do you feel?”

He considered the question for a moment. “The same,”

“You don’t remember anything else?”

Shaking his head, he looked at you. “I’m sorry,”

“What? What are you sorry for?”

“I wasn’t your burden to bear,” he offered. “You do not owe me anything.”

You felt you did though. It was a deep and profound feeling. One that somehow surpassed everything you knew to be true about vampires. It surpassed witch allegiance, seeing you undo another’s hex. And it surpassed both your innate need to protect living creatures and your oath to harm none.

There had to be a reason, but searching for the meaning was a dangerous road to go down. It was a luxury too, one that Hawkins would not afford you.

“We should go home,” you said. “We have a lot to talk about.”

…

1836

“You would never tell me a lie, would you?” You fluttered your eyelashes.

“Me? Deceive you? My beloved little witch? Never.” Although there was levity in his voice, you knew he was being truthful.

“So, then you can confess to me. You can transform into a bat!”

Eddie laughed. “I promise you, I cannot,”

“But the stories!”

“And what of the witches in the stories?” he counterargued, rolling onto his side.

It was past midnight and you were lying together beneath an old oak tree. The ground was still warm, fall not yet prickling the dark with a cool change.

Eddie reached out to gently touch your face. His skin was cold, but it made you flush hot.

“Vampires are very boring,” you teased.

“Imagine my good fortune then, being bound to bore for all eternity, only to find you.”

A day had not passed by since that first kiss without you sneaking off after dark to meet with Eddie. The sun has risen and set no less than sixty days.

In the moonlight you listened to Eddie tell you how he came to be a vampire, how he was damned, amoral, and evil like the others. You knew he was different. It did not matter what he had done, it mattered what he was doing. He hadn’t hunted any of the villagers who lived unaware of such beasts, nor the Native Americans who knew a monster when they saw one.

You knew there were things Eddie kept hidden. How, sometimes he ushered you back to the village earlier than usual, and he’d hunt elsewhere. Inhuman speed allowing him to travel great distances quickly. No, your vampire was not on an animal diet. It was something left unspoken between you.

Instead, you spoke about the places you had been and how the world use to be. You theorised about the future, about how the 1800s would end and what the 1900s would look like. “I cannot picture you in the year 2000,” you said as you sat up.

“No?”

You crossed your legs and Eddie shuffled to lay his head in your lap. As you began to braid sections of his long hair, you tried to imagine it. “Well, we change with the world…”

“I can change with the world,” he argued.

“Can you? How many days did it take for you to answer to Eddie,”

“But I answer to it now,”

“True. You do.” You leaned down to place a kiss on his forehead. He smiled, his upper canines slotting neatly into the lower. “Would you answer to it when you’re in your bat form?”

Eddie moved quick, had your fingers between his teeth. There was no pressure, you could take them back at any moment. He looked up at you with his dark eyes, something feral and held in reserve glinting through. He let your hand go.

“If I could do that, would I not be hidden in your pocket all the time?”

Giggling, you nodded. “You would. I would like that,”

“No bats. No… garlic undoings…” He tried to think of all the falsehoods. “Nor beds of soil from the grounds of our deaths. Nor hawthorn. Nor insight into your thoughts…”

It was terrifying, how little of the stories were true. What did that leave known about the vampires?

“Can I protect the humans by telling them not to invite anyone over the threshold of their homes? By arming them with blessed water?”

Eddie’s smile dropped. “Protect them from me?”

“No… Not you. But-”

“My kind… The colony…” He sat up and looked at you.

“I will not feel guilt for this,”

“I wouldn’t expect a witch to feel guilt about anything. The spoils of the righteous,”

“Eddie,” you whispered, reaching out for him.

He flinched, at first. A darkness settled over him. He was still in absolute.

“The colony – are they your family?” you asked.

“If they are, will you tell your coven to stop the hunt?”

It was the first acknowledgment of both Eddie’s colony and the coven’s hunt for them.

A vampire’s warning always comes in the death of livestock. Vicious killings of cows and lamb. They had been infrequent, not enough to alarm the farmers. The witches wove fact with fiction to keep the peace. It had been three seasons since the first lost sheep.

That is why you weren’t surprised by the vampire when you first crossed paths.

There was a limit to how many animals a witch would let die so brutally. Eddie’s colony had yet to reach it. Likewise, they had not brought harm to any townspeople. Until those conditions were met, the witches only prepared for the hunt. They sharpened their weapons and perfected their spells. They would lay in wait until then.

“There will be no hunting unless-”

“When,” Eddie interrupted. “When they come upon your village like a plague or Pestilence himself in the night, it won’t matter if they are kin.”

Your eyes had welled up. “No,” you agreed as a tear slipped down your cheek. “I will protect the humans.”

Eddie nodded slowly, then took your hand and let you cup his face. He closed his eyes. “Little witch. I envy your world of absolutes. And I love you so.”

When he took you in his arms, you held on tight, refusing to let him go until the first songs of the morning birds sang misery.

…

1986

“So, I keep trying to call you… Edward… in my head, but it’s not sticking,” you admitted as you checked the temperature of the water in the kettle, putting it back on the stove to reach boiling point. “So, maybe we’ll need that nickname after all,”

“Nickname?”

“Yeah, I mean, you do look like an Edward. But the only people that would go by Edward now are, um, the elderly, and while me and you both technically count… let’s try to keep you as inconspicuous as possible.”

Back inside the trailer, the vampire had sat on the couch, tried his hand at looking normal. It was coming back to him, how to move in this body and how to find his words.

While you mentally added ‘nice tea’ to your ever-growing shopping list, you continued on your train of thought. “But, you’re lucky, because Edward, Ed, Eddie, easy. Take your pick.”

He only took a few seconds. “Eddie,” he decided, waiting on you for approval.

“Eddie…” You looked at him from the kitchen bench, how he was watching you intently. Nodding once you turned away as the kettle whistled.

With your mug of tea warming your palms, you sat on the couch next to Eddie. Pulling your legs up and crossing them, you shuffled around to face him.

“You should go first… Have you remembered anything else?”

“No,” he said quietly. “I… I’ve been here for many, many years,”

“Longer than the humans?”

“No… The humans have always been here. Not as they are now though. They were once… quiet. And they…” Eddie struggled to explain how it used to be. “They have changed the land,”

“They have,” you replied. “They used to know better. They… They know, now. It’s like they’ve forgotten to care.”

Eddie could hear the sadness in your voice. Did he feel empathy… or was it simple recognition? “You love them,” he stated.

“I did once. I don’t know if love is what I would call it anymore. It’s complicated. Do you remember that about witches? That we watch over the humans?”

Eddie’s gaze wandered up and away as he searched through his mind. “Maybe… Yes… That is why we…” As his sentence failed, you saw an expression creep over his features. It was the first time he looked truly vampiric. It wasn’t a smile. It was a knowing smirk. “We are not friends,” Eddie finished, his eyes snapping back to yours suddenly.

“Do you remember what happened to the vampires?” The need to assert yourself as not only a healing witch, but as a dangerous thing too bubbled up in you.

“No,”

“There are no more. Not anywhere on this earth.”

Eddie’s head tilted and his little grin fell. “Vampires cannot be killed,”

“You couldn’t. Not a stake through the heart or even sunlight. But we figured it out,”

“We?”

The tension was rising but you held steady, refusing to feel regret or fear. “Witches spent eons hunting vampires who hunted humans. Covens got so close to working out how to properly kill… them. But it was my coven, here in Hawkins, that did it. It was more than a lifetime ago, but it still feels… recent, I guess.”

Eddie’s stare was unblinking. “Clever witches,” he whispered. “I was… hexed… before that then,”

“Yeah. They would have just killed you otherwise,” you confirmed.

Eddie remembered to blink. He nodded. “And what year is it now?”

“1986.”

There was knowledge stored in his cells. Small pieces of information in his biology, but not much. Just… vampire. Blood. Apex, cannot be killed. Walk by moonlight. Don’t trust a witch. The thought led Eddie to his first question for you.

“Why help me?”

“I… I didn’t know what you were.  I thought you were just an injured bat,”

“But you didn’t stop… helping me. When you knew.”

You opened your mouth to speak but got caught wordless. Shrugging, you shook your head. “I don’t know.”

Eddie wanted to force more out of you. He wanted to know what would possess a witch to resurrect an already defeated enemy. He wanted to know what it felt like to hand over the dog. He wanted to know how often hexes were reversed.

The wetness of your eyes and the shaky breath you were trying to even, they made him settle for an ‘I don’t know.’

“Next question. Do you know about what’s happening here? The evil?”

“It has been here for a long time,” Eddie answered with a slow nod.

You cocked your head. “Have you seen him?”

“Him?”

“Uh, the humans call him Vecna. He’s something else. Not like us,” you told him.

Eddie smiled. “How are we alike?”

“Oh… I guess… I guess we’re not. I meant, he was somehow made, by other humans… But… so are vampires… So was the first vampire,”

“The evil is like me,”

“No. It’s different.” It was getting under your skin, the comparison between Eddie and Vecna. Why though? “I wish I knew more. But whatever doorway was opened, it’s not one witches can see through. All I know is that there is world beyond this one and he hides there. He travels through the mind and has power over people. He’s already killed people and hurt more.”

Eddie thought of the white long-limbed creature with its face of teeth. The monster made of humans, how it snapped and crushed. They had been visible from the sky; he’d tailed the chaos as a bat. Vecna had never shown himself like those things had.

“Where are the witches?” Eddie asked.

“They are… not coming. As far as we can tell, Vecna doesn’t know about us. Or anything supernatural beyond his own world. The coven fears if he discovers it, he’ll either try to drain our power or kill us all. Or both,”

“And what of the humans?”

Despite the questions being entirely valid, you felt interrogated. “They have won before. More than once,”

“And if they fail?”

You sucked in your bottom lip and chewed while you formulated a response. “The coven will intervene… They won’t let him go further than Hawkins,”

“You do not sound convinced,” Eddie observed.

“I will intervene. I will protect the humans.”

Eddie’s instincts told him that witches were steadfast in their conventions. Virtuous and stubborn. Yet, every rule you had, you’d seemed to have already broken or committed to doing so. He couldn’t remember if he was meant to feel. Was he meant to like you, to show preference at all? You were so flawed though and it endeared him to you.

“If it comes to that, I will help you…” He didn't say your name. It didn't feel right on his tongue. There’s something else there though, living on the tip of it. It’s lost. Trapped in the memories your spell couldn’t bring back.

You nodded and gave him a forced smile. Vecna hurt to think about. The children hurt to think about; Erica Sinclair at age eleven.

“Something called me here,” you said suddenly. You were caught off guard by your own admission. “To Hawkins. My coven thinks it’s… not haunted, but something like that. None of us have been back since we left. But when Vecna did what he did, I started to hear it,”

“The calling,”

“Yeah. When prolific events happen, it unsettles everything. What he did to the earth and to his victims… It could have changed something. Let me hear something I couldn’t before.” Part of you was simply thinking out loud, a stream of consciousness that finally had an audience in Eddie. And, an attentive audience at that.

Eddie had relaxed back into the couch like he’d grown up on that very one. Every minute he spent reinhabiting his old body was comfort. He was watching you still, those dark eyes trained on your changing expressions and lively movements.

“When you hear it, does it have a voice?” he asked you.

“Almost? It almost did… Just like there were almost words. But… it was… I don’t know. Like someone else’s thoughts in my head. But it stopped when I got here. I kind of sold this whole thing to myself as following that voice. That it had to mean something. But now it’s gone. And I don’t know if it was him… or…”

“Me,” Eddie finished for you.

You nodded. “But you… you didn’t,”

“I don’t have magic,” he reminded you. “And I was… just a bat,”

“Right,” you said slowly, trying to recognise the emotion on his face. “Just a bat…”

“I owe the voice my gratitude,” Eddie said, dipping his head and smiling. “And, maybe… Vecna… He will rue the day that voice dared to call to this little witch.”

It exploded across Eddie’s body. A prickly warmth that responded to the combination of those two little words. He watched your pupils expand at his words. Your blood smelt rich. Thick. Hot.

It was entirely beyond either of your understanding. What had happened. What was happening. And what hadn’t yet transpired. Yet, for a fleeting moment on the couch of a run down trailer, you and the vampire were of one mind.

End Note: No, it won't be as easy as the unhexing spell bringing back Eddie's memories. And now, there is a looming threat in Vecna that may sidetrack this little witch's mission to turn back time. Thank you for reading. I am frothing at all the predictions of what is going to happen and what is going to be revealed. Some of you are hot and some are cold. xo Rhi

Fic Taglist: @kaitebugg03 @paranoidmunson @munsonsbait @idkidknemore @paprikaquinn @stardustworlds @loz-brooke @wyverntatty @vintagehellfire @dark-academia-slut @scarletwitchwhore @becks1002 @mrsdollardog @heyndrix @luceneraium @rosaline-black @devilinthepalemoonlite @goldencherriess @iamwhisperingstars @wiltedwonderland @blueywrites @breezybeesposts @jadehowlettthewolf @spikesvamp79 @foreveranexpatsposts @tortoiseshellspells @wingedpeachjudgegiant @stardustmunson @live-love-be-unique @fangirling-4-ever @reanimated-alice @b-irock @gh0stlybunnie @myown-worstenemy-2003 @woozzz @cyberxlust @hiscrimsonangel @buckysbarne @m00nlight101 @word-wytch

All Eddie Taglist: @solomons-finest-rum @ruinedbythehobbit @sweetpeapod @thorfemmes  @corrodedhawkins @grungegrrrl @lilzabob  @averagemisfit03 @ches-86 @ilovecupcakesandtea @onehotgreasymechanic @hazydespair @mel-the-fangirl @eddies-hid3out @siren-lungs

[strangerthingsreversebigbang]

In case you missed them, here are the next ten works posted from the Stranger Things Reverse Big Bang!

---

Under the Myrtle by @lorifragolina | Art by @raven-cl

Rating: Explicit

Warning(s): No Archive Warnings Apply

Character(s): Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove, Steve Harrington's parents

Relationship(s): Steve Harrington/Billy Hargrove

Summary: A shepherd and a stranger, in the woods by the lake, under the myrtle, in a sweet, warm spring. There is love, there are secrets, there are broken promises and faith in the gods. --- He was wearing the white tunic, almost completely opened on his chest, and a golden chain was sparkling around his neck. He was barefoot and the pebbles and twigs seemed to not bother him. The man stood near him, looking at him with a smile. He was more or less as tall as him, but for some reason Steve felt uneasy in front of him. He sat up and looked at the man in return, speechless and bewitched. “You…” he heard himself whispering to the stranger. The air seemed still and he feared breathing. The man giggled, and this little laugh seemed like the song of a fresh and cheerful waterfall. “It’s you who spies on people when they are taking their baths?” The man asked, still smiling under his tiny mustaches, tilting his head to him. Steve nodded. He couldn't trust his own voice. “You scared me,” continued the other sweetly. Steve blinked, and the man got nearer and sat at his side.

Rooftop Blues and Midnight Reds by @flowercrowngods | Art by @maikaartwork

Rating: Teens and Up

Warning(s): No Archive Warnings Apply

Character(s): max mayfield, steve harrington, eddie munson, wayne munson

Relationship(s): max mayfield & steve harrington, max mayfield & eddie munson, max mayfield & wayne munson, steve harrington/eddie munson

Summary: The world ended, and then it didn't. In the aftermath, Max is left with the need to re-learn what it means to be a person, and learn what it means to have a family. One September night, on the rooftop of her new home, she comes one step closer to both of those, and learns what it means to have hope.

Sol Invictus by @just-my-latest-hyperfixation | Art by @waldos-art

Rating: Explicit

Warning(s): Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings

Character(s): Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson

Relationship(s): Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson; Tommy Hagan/Steve Harrington (Unrequited)

Summary:

The prince smiles and plucks the lute from his limp fingers, carefully setting it down next to the bed. Eddie can’t recall when he stopped playing. “Look at you. Not just easy on the eyes, but smart to boot. Knew I made a good choice with you.”

Those graceful fingers are on his face now, caressing his cheekbones on either side, slipping into his curls, and Eddie’s insides are warm and light.

“My prince—” he starts to say, but that pretty face twists into a scowl and a soft finger pushes against his lips.

“Let’s try something new, Just Eddie.” Those beautiful eyes are alight with mischief, a temptation dangling just barely within reach. “When we're like this … Can I be Just Steve? Do you think you can do that?”

Something inside Eddie coils.

“Steve,” he whispers against pink lips. The name is sweet nectar, the juice of forbidden fruit on a hot summer day, a sin and a secret and an oath.

Steve smiles and the sun rises in the moonlit room.

Eddie says his name a thousand times more on that night and the nights that follow. 

---

In a world where the king is worshipped as the living embodiment of the sun itself, two boys learn to navigate life in their golden cage.

Spark Notes by @nomadicwolf | Art by @freedom-in-darkness

Rating: Teens and Up

Warning(s): No Archive Warnings Apply

Character(s): Jonathan Byers, Steve Harrington, Nancy Wheeler, Carol Perkins, Tommy Hagan, Barbara "Barb" Holland, Fred Benson

Relationship(s): Jonathan Byers/Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler

Summary: It was love at first sight. One look at Nancy Wheeler was enough for Steve Harrington to fall head over heels. While Steve is no stranger to the art of seduction, he soon realizes that Nancy is going to require a different level of courting than he's accustomed to. He enlists the help of Jonathan Byers to help send love letters to her. Over time they develop a friendship and while Steve's affections for Nancy never falter, he begins to think he might be able to feel this way for two people at once.

Nothin' to Show by @bifuriouswaterbender | Art by @madaboutmunson

Rating: Teens and Up

Warning(s): No Archive Warnings Apply

Character(s): Eddie Munson, Robin Buckley, Nancy Wheeler, Steve Harrington, Dustin Henderson, Lucas Sinclair, Eleven | Jane Hopper, Billy Hargrove, Henry Creel | One | Vecna, Jim "Chief" Hopper

Relationship(s): Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington & Eddie Munson & Nancy Wheeler, Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson & Nancy Wheeler, Steve Harrington & Nancy Wheeler, Robin Buckley & Nancy Wheeler, Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Summary: Vecna Industries couldn't keep getting away with their criminal enterprises. Luckily Dustin knew a few people with just the skills to take them down. He just hoped they could learn to play nice with each other. AKA, The Fruity Four as a Leverage AU.

Playing with Fire by @betty-boom | Art by @waldos-art

Rating: Explicit

Warning(s): No Archive Warnings Apply

Character(s): Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson

Relationship(s): Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Summary:

Steve's bounty hunts and contracts never usually lasted a full year, until now, and he's unsure how to cope. Until Eddie shows up to speed things up.

5 times Eddie tempts Steve + 1 time Steve finally gives in

Feel the Tide Shifting (and wait for the spark) by @maxinemaxmayfield | Art by @hereforanepilogue

Rating: Teens and Up

Warning(s): No Archive Warnings Appy

Character(s): Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Chrissy Cunningham, Robin Buckley, Original Characters

Relationship(s): Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Minor Robin Buckley/Chrissy Cunningham, Steve Harrington & Chrissy Cunningham

Summary: Steve's daughter is his entire world. He doesn't really have time for anything - or anyone - else. But when they take a trip to see the dolphins at the Indianapolis Zoo for her ninth birthday, Steve gets a blast from the past that could change his whole future.

Butter, Sugar, and Northern Mockingbirds by @thefreakandthehair | Art by @janie-bean

Rating: Explicit

Warning(s): No Archive Warnings Apply

Character(s): Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Robin Buckley, Stranger Things Ensemble

Relationship(s): Steve Harrington / Eddie Munson

Summary:

“Holy shit, Steve, this cookie has no right to be this good,” Eddie praises, cookie crumbs stuck to the corner of his lips. “What did you put in this? Drugs? Is it drugs? I feel like it could be drugs, they’re that good.”

It’s not the first time he’s felt these proverbial butterfly wings flapping against the inside of his ribs. Every time they’re alone together, every time their shoulders graze or eyes meet, every time Steve sees Eddie smile with that stupid dimple that not even the slashing scar across his cheek can hide, the little thing with wings that’s taken up residence close enough to his heart to set it alight goes insane.

He should know how to handle the feeling by now, but he doesn’t.

You're Under My Skin (burning in my bloodstream) by @lihhelsing | Art by @lady-lostmind

Rating: Explicit

Warning(s): No Archive Warnings Apply

Character(s): Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Chrissy Cunningham, Robin Buckley, Gareth

Relationship(s): Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Summary:

Steve's not sure why he keeps betting on things with Robin when he knows he's going to lose. Except this time the bet ends up with him getting his nipple pierced and it seems like the guy who's about to run a needle through his skin is hotter than Steve expected and he's having trouble keeping it together.

But after a charged first encounter, Steve has no way to get in touch with Eddie and thinks he lost his chance until he runs into him in the most unexpected of places and finds out Eddie is a lot more than Steve initially thought.

OR; Eddie gives Steve a piercing and Steve is clueless about his true identity.

Rebel Girl by @annanevermore | Art by @artbean

Rating: Teens and Up

Warning(s): No Archive Warnings Apply

Character(s): Eddie, Chrissy, Robin, Steve

Relationship(s): Eddie & Chrissy, Eddie/Steve, Chrissy/Robin

Summary: Chrissy Cunningham has been dealing with a lot lately, between her mom and her new relationship with Robin and deciding what to do with herself after high school. Eddie has been dealing with quite a lot himself too. When things come to a head for Chrissy and she gives herself a rather disastrous haircut, she naturally goes to Eddie to help her fix it. What else are best friends for?

---

Stay tuned for more incredible works from the Stranger Things Reverse Big Bang!

Schedule | Sign Up | Info | FAQ | Rules | Ask the Mods

[il-predestinato]

✨ NEW ✨

✨ And That's How I Foksmashed Dad's Championship Trophy ✨

↳rating: T ↳word count: 6,500 ↳pairings/characters: Charles Leclerc/Max Verstappen, Sassy, Jimmy ↳summary: Sassy’s favourite human brings home a Green-Eyed Monster. She is not having it. ↳excerpt:

All of that would have been forgivable if not for the Green-Eyed Monster’s complete disregard for the pre-contracted occupation rights of Max’s lap. Such rights had long been pre-determined and belonged to Sassy (and occasionally to Jimmy, she admitted begrudgingly). However, no amount of quiet hisses and vicious glares seemed to penetrate the creature’s thick skull, and he would greedily occupy Max’s thigh for more than 95% of any given afternoon. Sometimes with his head, sometimes with his feet, and a few times he even straddled his entire body over Max; the latter could not have been comfortable for Max, as the Green-Eyed Monster was enormously overweight compared to Sassy.

(Jimmy had insisted that it was not nice to shame another living creature about their weight, but she was not wrong. With her compact size and considerably more reasonable mass, Sassy was confident that she was much more comfortable for Max to have on his lap than that horrendously oversized creature.)

- 🖋 -

this is our place, we make the rules

(series status: *complete*)

i. set my midnight sorrow free

↳rating: T ↳word count: 13,439 ↳pairings/characters: Charles Leclerc/Max Verstappen, Pierre Gasly ↳summary: An outsider’s POV of Max and Charles and their enemies to lovers journey from their karting days to end of the 2020 season. ↳excerpt:

He doesn’t blame Max, not really.

If he could have Charles for one night, he would never let him go either.

Maybe he isn’t the one who is losing; Max is also playing a losing game.

You can’t open yourself to Charles and try to exist in his charmed life without becoming irrevocably enamoured.

When Max let Charles walk into his motorhome, when he let Charles slip into his existence, Max didn’t know it then but the battle was already lost.

ii. we don’t know how to rhyme, but damn, we try

↳rating: M ↳word count: 4,862 ↳pairings/characters: Charles Leclerc/Max Verstappen ↳summary: Post-2019 German Grand Prix, a coda to a scene from ‘set my midnight sorrow free.’ ↳excerpt:

He pulls back reluctantly and misses the warm mouth almost immediately. Stars, he was doomed.

“I want this too,” he tells Charles.

“I don’t believe you.”

He can be so infuriating sometimes, so contrarian. Some day, he might actually make Max lose his mind.

iii. even the sun sets in paradise

↳rating: T ↳word count: 27,774 ↳pairings/characters: Charles Leclerc/Max Verstappen ↳summary: A decade after ‘set my midnight sorrow free,’ an on-track incident changes everything. A retirement fic. ↳excerpt:

If he had to name the place where the story of Max and Charles began, if there was a moment that divided them into Before and After, there would be a few candidates.

But there was only one correct answer. He would never forget the name.

The place is called Val d’Argenton. Stories are still being written there.

Charles likes to tell the story of the incident - turn by turn, infused with poetic drama, detailing every single emotion: frustration, anger, pure spite. Every time he tells it, his smile grows along with the laughter in his eyes, even as his words recount a tale of opposing emotions.

“I never want to go back to Val d’Argenton,” Charles once confessed.

“We’ll never go back there,” he promised, and Charles knew what he meant.

- 🖋 -

One-Shots

you kept me like a secret, but I kept you like an oath

↳rating: M ↳word count: 3,848 ↳pairings/characters: Lewis Hamilton/Nico Rosberg, Charles Leclerc/Max Verstappen ↳summary: Nico reflects on his relationship with Lewis as he watches Max and Charles over the years. Future fic. ↳excerpt:

He didn’t know it then. Nico didn’t know that he could watch two gifted young men fall in love and feel nothing but contempt in his own heart.

The part that hurts the most wasn’t losing Lewis.

It was losing himself.

the entire history of you

↳rating: T ↳word count: 4,944 ↳pairings/characters: Charles Leclerc/Max Verstappen ↳summary: Two short stories - 1) Max hates pens and is totally not jealous, and 2) the obligatory post-2022 French Grand Prix fic that I wrote as personal therapy. ↳excerpt:

i. 

“Smile and look pretty,” Max hisses into his ear, practically dragging him along.

Charles does as he's told.

(The smiling part. The ‘look pretty’ part requires no particular action.)

“So this is my friend,” Max presses on, clapping Charles on the shoulder.

Charles emits something of a half cough, half indignant laugh. The dimpled smile is still plastered on his face. He arches an eyebrow at Max and does his best to convey his trauma: ‘My cheeks are aching. I might pull a muscle or something, and do you really want my cute little face to end up lopsided? Yeah, I didn’t think so. Now hurry up and enact your diabolical plan.’

ii.

He blinks the haziness out of his eyes as he takes in his new surroundings. Immediately, there is something strangely familiar about this place. The sun is just above the horizon, and he has to squint at the outlines of grass and asphalt in the distance.

“This is -” he inhales sharply as realization sets in.

There is an emptiness in his stomach that matches the emptiness in his chest even before he sees the large sign at the entrance: Circuit International du Val d’Argenton.

Max tugs him along by his arm. “Come on,” he chirps brightly. “I called ahead. We have the track to ourselves for a few hours.”

- 🖋 -

Misc

Spotify Wrapped Tumblr Ask Game

↳rating: G to T ↳pairings/characters: Charles Leclerc/Max Verstappen

#2. “Always Remember Us This Way” by Lady Gaga (word count: 618) 38. “Small Talk” by Katy Perry (word count: 2,093) #45. “Rude” by MAGIC! (word count: 724)

Blurbs/Snippets from WIPs

untitled (Lestappen serial killer AU): Please read warnings before proceeding! Dead Dove: Do Not Eat! Milton Keynes’ Finest (Driver!Max/Engineer!Charles AU) Once Upon a Time in Monte Carlo (Lestappen fairytale AU)

#my fic tag PrincessElectra (my author page on AO3) My AO3 bookmarks

[atypicalacademic]

WIP Sunday

Thank you to my beloved @dirty-bosmer for the tag, summoning @ollifree @greyvvardenfell @cumbiazevran @cleverblackcat @wild-houseplant as per usual. Managed to rough-draft a lil more of Hallowed Ground--

Midnight gave way to misted dawn; stars fading to light and billowing smoke. Even as Evening Star crept through every crack and door and crevice, their city was stirring awake. Hawkers loaded their guars, yawning and shivering, and the food-stalls selling scuttle crisps and spiced saltrice porridge to retiring guards and dock workers blinked to life as they watched, one by one. On another morning, they’d have taken a long walk before the Council called and petitioners swarmed their door, to see again if the distribution of blankets and warm coats continued to go to plan, now that the dark wings of Blacklight’s biting winters were upon them. Or so they were told. It had been over a hundred years since Alsal had ever felt the slightest hint of cold.  But they stayed at their desk, rooted to the unfinished letter. Her name had fallen into their days like a pebble in a pond. Everywhere they looked were the ripples of her form. Ink splattered against paper, dark and smooth as her hair. Alsal saw it all again; clouds swallowing starlight, quick footsteps down the winding stairs, the Conjurer’s scrolls shining in her arms. Hands stained pink like the inside of a lotus. The tips of her ears darkening to a flushed indigo. Her eyes; proud, clever, cutting, and the vow she’d taken from them, there at the foot of Tel Branora, with the sea at her feet, the rain lashing against their armour.   “I promise, kenjo.” They’d said, hand over heart. “I’ll bring you the sun.”  Aranea Ienith. They knew. They knew her.  Had Alsal not witnessed Azura in Her chosen form, they would have cast Her in Aranea’s mould. In the curling smoke of that voice, everything had sounded prophetic. They looked down at their empty palms. What could they return to her now? Outside, the temple bells rang to welcome the Blessed Hour. As quiet chanting rose to the crescendo of song— She for whom the skies are fields of roses, She in whose most beloved Name the Radiant Knights take oath, She who bestowed upon us the glory of Her aspect, She who guards the twilit halls of prophecy— Alsal put their quill to paper.    I’ll bring you home, kenjo. The ashes of everything you’ve lost, put together and breathing life.I’ll learn to pray again. Only look at me. Look at me like you looked at me then.

[starbase-yorktown]

OK AND NOW FOR THE OC NOVELS. LET'S TALK THE ALYMPA CHRONICLES @zzoomacroom!!! so from the age of 19 to today, I've been writing, editing and self-publishing a sci-fi fantasy YA series called the alympa chronicles. I'm 5 books in, with the final 2 in progress currently.

Elevator pitch: human abductee is rescued by galactic investigators/first responders. adventures ensue, all tied to a cat and mouse game of blood vendettas and vengeance oaths with a cold, ruthless villain who will stop at nothing to collect that which he thinks belongs to him. including said human abductee.

or: sometimes your family are your hot mess, dysfunctional alien rescuers, and blood has very little to do at all with defining the kind of person you are and the kind of person you will be. plus so many queers.

Minutes To Midnight: a relic warrior of a failed insurrection is plotting his vengeance by unleashing a genetically engineered biochemical weapon on the city that betrayed him. Rin & company are fighting to find him in time and keep this from happening, but not everything will go well. Sub-plot: beware that which we lock away within ourselves, for it thrives in the dark like a fungus until all that remains is the rotted, hollow husk of what we pretend to still be.

EXCERPT: If openly walking where one shouldn’t be were an art form, it was one Dor Prem had honed to a master’s skill.

The first step in accomplishing this feat was to believe in its most central lie: that no such place existed to start with. One was allowed and, in fact, expected to be wherever it was one was found to be.

The second step was to not believe in that lie too wholeheartedly.

Anyone who walked with too much certainty—too arrogant in their trespassing, too daring in their self-assurance—all-but broadcast their bluff to the sharper-eyed observer. Overconfidence was as much a novice’s error as anxious hesitation. Mastery lied in that tenuous balance between the two: to not look like one had something to hide or justify but also to not walk with bare-faced bravado.

One wore nondescript clothes, but not too nondescript; no one, of course, existed without personality. Identifying features were not to be flaunted but also were not to be obviously concealed, for that was likewise a give-away of ill-intent. Instead, one applied cover appro­priate to local fashion and season. A hood against a cold night was more likely to be overlooked than, say, a hood on the strips on a summer’s eve, where the air was heavy with the scent of sweat and drink and the sweet sickness of psychedelic haze. There, one was more likely to disappear with the barest of garments, one’s own skin and bone bleeding into the skin and bone of revelers to either side in an indecipherable mass.

The third step was, of course, to know one’s assignment beginning to end, inside and out, from the most obvious of details to the most granularly mundane of what one did for their non-existent mother’s birthday the year prior. Spies, insurrectionists, insurgents, the trea­sonous (so many names for the same class of traitor in the eyes of the average Ethonian) pulled from a deep well to effortlessly redirect or dispatch any obstacle to their mission and bring it to completion.

Each step, when coordinated, unfolded into the most riveting of dances, the most intricate brushwork that left only a masterpiece behind.

Ghostwalkers, they were once called. Specters. Changelings. They were the Insurgency’s most elite, infiltrators who were there one day and gone the next, convincing targets and bystanders alike that they were something they were not: trustworthy to their cause, to peace and the broken status quo, when all they desired was its razing.

The blades that cut in the night and left scores of dead to be found by the sun’s rise.

Once, ghostwalkers were renowned. They wielded respect through sheer terror of their prowess, were granted passage and sworn vows of silence from passersby who had the immense misfortune of stumbling upon their unfolding handiworks.

No longer.

Homecoming: our heroes were not paying attention to the right things; they fell right into the web, followed the baited paths, and now, it all ends. In pain, in blood, in loss, in tears, in heart-breaking sacrifice, it all ends. But perhaps, they will have caught enough of the shattering pieces to salvage something from the wreckage. Something that can keep the entire quadrant from falling to terror and death and carnage altogether.

Hello, my sweet heart. My dearest.

You are dreaming right now.

But you know my voice, warm and crackled with age. You know the touch of my hand on yours, as old and as kind as the thrako tree beneath which I am buried. You know the scent of my leathers and oils and incense.

I know you are eager. I know you are scared.

But no matter how dark what follows becomes, no matter how terrible or hopeless my children's story grows, remember this.

It all ends just so, across time and space to even you one day, as it has already come for I:

"And then, they went home."

[ainyan]

Find the Words

I was tagged by @mxkelsifer to find the words flame, mischief, sun, and alone in any of my fics.

Tagging: @sasslett, @writerman, @eorzeashan, @autumnslance, @irisopranta, @otherworldseekers, @starrysnowdrop, and anyone else who wants to.

Words: Survive, Machine, Enchant, and Oblivious

Flame

When they finally parted, Kal’istae’s breath gasped out, and Saganu fought to catch his own. The hand in her hair slowly untangled from the midnight-blue strands, skimming down along her spine to join the other at her waist. Her fingers plucked at the tunic beneath them as she stared up into his scarlet eyes across the brief distance between them. “Forgive me,” he repeated, the words naught but a soft murmur. “What should I be forgiving, my lord?” Kal’istae wondered - the first apology, perhaps, had been expected; but given her clearly welcoming response to his kiss, the second one puzzled her, and she unbent enough to let him see her confusion. Saganu’s hands tightened at her waist, then he dropped his arms away, turning to gaze out at the starlines streaming towards them as the shuttle hurdled through hyperspace towards its final destination. “I saw your message on the Holonet. The one you sent out to your… advisor. It’s why I put my people to looking for him, and how he was discovered on Copero.” Kal’istae remained confused for a moment longer, then stiffened in realization. “Ah,” she breathed in understanding, and watched his shoulders bunch beneath the light fabric of his uniform. “You mean to Th- Theron.” She choked on the name, one hand rising to her throat. I love you, Theron. Come home. “I came out of friendship and respect for the extraordinary efforts of a woman I admire. I came to show solidarity for a member of my House. I did not come to rekindle old flames,” Saganu murmured, still gazing out of the viewport. “Then I saw you there - alone, without the cadre of guards your rank demanded, showing faith in the Ascendancy after all of these years. I saw you there, as I did when you stood before me on Hoth, filled with the righteous fire of resolve, even in the face of circumstances such as these. My Red Flame.”

Mischief

“My beautiful sapling, why do you linger outside the gates of my home? You know that you are always welcome within the walls of the castle.” 

Turning, Kal'istae grinned at Titania, genuinely pleased to see the pixie king. Their own face radiated pleasure upon seeing their oath-bound companion, and they gestured in welcome. “Yes, thank you,” the au ra said politely, “but I did not wish to disturb your peace with talk of favors and bargains. I thought it best to wait until you were ready to speak.”

Titania’s eyebrows rose. “Do you finally admit that you need me?” they replied, the imp of mischief glittering in their eyes.

Kal'istae wrinkled her nose. “It would not be the first time,” she replied drolly. “But I might well have need of your particular expertise, my beautiful branch,” and she bit back a grin as Titania preened. 

“Very well,” the pixie responded. “In what way can we aid you?”

Kal'istae was quiet for a long moment, turning away and gazing out over the rainbows and mists of Il Mheg. Finally, she sighed. “You visit my world through dreams - that is how you speak with my retainers, and how you told Tataru what kind of gear the Archons would need to suit their new roles.” She fell silent.

Feo Ul floated up to her side, the personality of Titania suppressed as the pixie considered the words of their dearest companion. Finally,  they nodded. “That is correct. Distance is of no matter to dreams - they can reach as far as they need to.”

Kal'istae twisted her fingers before her as she stared at the fields of flowers glowing in the moonlight. “Could you - would it be possible to bring two dreamers together in one dream?”

Sun

The sun’s caress was gentle, the sand crunching beneath her boots as she walked along the ocean’s edge, tracing the tide with her footsteps. She wasn’t quite certain when she’s gotten here - how she’d gotten here - where, exactly, here was; all she knew was that, for the first time in what felt like forever, she was at peace. The sky was clear, no ash and smoke to choke out the sun. The stiff breeze smelled of salt and sand and exotic spices, no hint of the too familiar blood and decay. The landscape was unmarred by the charred hulks of destroyed buildings and vehicles, unsullied with the bloating corpses of enemy and ally. She inhaled the scents of summer, of sea and solace, and exhaled them on a long, contented sigh.

“Siha.” The word made her start and stumble in the soft sand, arms flung out to catch herself as her knees hit the ground. She looked up, up, into huge, dark eyes set in a green scaled face. Silently, he knelt before her, reaching out to gently cup her face in his hands as he smiled. “Siha,” he murmured again, before leaning in to press his mouth against her slack, unresisting lips.

When she didn’t respond immediately to his kiss, he pulled back, confusion clouding his gaze. “Siha?” The third repetition of the nickname broke through her stunned stasis and she recoiled back from his touch, falling back into the sand and crab-walking backwards away from him. He watched her, understanding dawning across his alien features, a sad smile curving his lips. “Ah. I should have realized.”

“You can’t - Thane? You’re - I saw you…” Trailing off, she dropped heavily to the sand, green eyes staring in shock at the man kneeling only feet from her. “I saw you,” she whispered again, voice choking. As he eased closer, she tensed, closing her eyes and turning her head away from the bittersweet sight of his face.

Alone

G’raha turned and stepped up to Thancred. The gunbreaker lifted his head, his eyes wary as the scarlet-eyed miqo’te approached. In silence, the mage offered out the plush in his hands, and Thancred reached for it, his fingers trembling. “She still sleeps with it, when I’m not in her bed,” the Exarch said gently. “She misses you, Thancred.”

The hyur gave a despairing laugh as he turned the plush of himself over and over. “She showed no hesitation when she left me,” he replied bitterly. “So long, and thanks for all the kisses. I still don’t know why. I still don’t understand what went wrong.”

The Exarch turned away again, wandering restlessly about the room. “I don’t think she does, either. She’s convinced herself it was you who left her; or,” he corrected himself when Thancred angrily opened his mouth, “rather that when she left you, it was only what you wanted. And when you didn’t try to stop her, it only confirmed her belief.”

The plush hyur went sailing through the air, smacking against the wall and landing face-first on the bed. “I didn’t have a chance!” Thancred bellowed. “She said her piece, gave me one last kiss, and walked out of the room and out of my life. When I tried to hunt her down, she went to ground among her adventurer friends, and they closed ranks against me. How could I stop her when she never let me say a word?”

The miqo’te faced down his rage with aplomb, and shook his head when he saw Alisaie peek around the corner. She swallowed and darted away again, leaving them alone. G’raha Tia gazed into Thancred’s anguished face and felt his heart ache with compassion. He, too, understood what it was to yearn for a woman determined to let no one close enough to care. “I will not offer excuses in her stead…”

[alwaysbeyondhope]

October Daye Reading Order

So…

This is what I believe the order for @seananmcguire October Daye series is, for the books and the short stories.

The only ones I’m not positive about are In Little Stars, These Antique Fables, and the Tybalt short stories.

This is mainly for my own reference, as I want to organize a year-long reread to book 17, having finished Be The Serpent yesterday (no spoilers but OMG WTF I love this series)

So here’s what I have:

1. Rosemary and Rue

1a. *Strangers in Court (attached to RaR HB)

2. A Local Habitation

3. An Artificial Night

4. Late Eclipses

4a. *Through this House (Home Improvement anthology)

5. One Salt Sea

5a. *In Sea-Salt Tears (free ebook)

6. Ashes of Honor

6a. *No Sooner Met (free ebook)

7. Chimes at Midnight

7a. *Never Shines the Sun (attached to CaM)

7b. *Full of Briars ($ ebook)

8. The Winter Long

8a. *Heaps of Pearl (free ebook)

8b. *Shore to Shore (Patreon)

8c. *Write in Water (Patreon)

8d. *Live in Brass (Patreon)

8e. *The Ambitious Ocean (Patreon)

8f. *And Thrice Again (Patreon)

9. A Red-Rose Chain

10. Once Broken Faith

10a. *Dreams and Slumbers (attached to OBF)

10b. *In Little Stars (Patreon)

11. The Brightest Fell

11a. *Of Things Unknown (attached to TBF)

11b. *These Antique Fables (Patreon)

12. Night and Silence

12a. *Suffer a Sea-Change (attached to NaS)

13. The Unkindest Tide

13a. *Hope is Swift (attached to TUT)

14. A Killing Frost

14a. *Shine in Pearl (attached to AKF)

14b. *And Deeps Below (Patreon)

14c. *Sacrifice Your Tears (Patreon)

14d. *Into the Sea (Patreon)

14e. *In Safety Rest (Patreon)

14f. *Upon Your Honor (Patreon)

14g. *With Sweet Peace (Patreon)

15. When Sorrows Come

15a. *And With Revering (attached to WSC)

16. Be The Serpent

16a. *Such Dangerous Seas (attached to BTS)

16b. *The Fixed Stars (Shattered Shields anthology)

16c. *Sun Sets Weeping (Patreon)

bold is book

* is short story

Tybalt shorts (anytime after A Local Habitation, based on SM website for Rat-Catcher description)

a. *Rat-Catcher (A Fantasy Medley 2 anthology)

b. *Forbid the Sea (free ebook)

c. *Stage of Fools (Patreon)

d. *The Voice of Lions (Patreon)

e. *The Act of Hares (Patreon)

f. *Instruments of Darkness (Patreon)

g. *With Honest Trifles (Patreon)

h. *In Deepest Consequence (Patreon)

i. *Jealous in Honor (Patreon)

j. *Quick in Quarrel (Patreon)

k. *Of Strange Oaths (Patreon)

l. *Dreams and Sighs (Patreon)

m. *Wishes and Tears (Patreon)

n. *Poor Fancy’s Followers (Patreon)

o. *Our Trial Patience (Patreon)

p. *Earth for Charity (Patreon)

q. *Mean and Mighty (Patreon)

If anyone has any differing information on the read order, please let me know!

[talonabraxas]

LIBER XLIV THE MASS OF THE PHOENIX The Magician, his breast bare, stands before an altar on which are his Burin, Bell, Thurible, and two of the Cakes of Light. In the Sign of the Enterer he reaches West across the Altar, and cries: Hail Ra, that goest in thy bark Into the caverns of the Dark! He gives the sign of Silence, and takes the Bell, and Fire, in his hands. East of the Altar see me stand With light and musick in my hand! He strikes Eleven times upon the Bell 333 - 55555 - 333 and places the Fire in the Thurible. I strike the Bell: I light the Flame; I utter the mysterious Name. ABRAHADABRA He strikes eleven times upon the Bell. Now I begin to pray: Thou Child, Holy Thy name and undefiled! Thy reign is come; Thy will is done. Here is the Bread; here is the Blood. Bring me through midnight to the Sun! Save me from Evil and from Good! That Thy one crown of all the Ten Even now and here be mine. AMEN. He puts the first Cake on the Fire of the Thurible. I burn the Incense-cake, proclaim These adorations of Thy name. He makes them as in Liber Legis, and strikes again Eleven times upon the Bell. With the Burin he then makes upon his breast the proper sign. Behold this bleeding breast of mine Gashed with the sacramental sign! He puts the second Cake to the wound. I stanch the Blood; the wafer soaks It up, and the high priest invokes! He eats the second Cake. This Bread I eat. This Oath I swear As I enflame myself with prayer: "There is no grace: there is no guilt: This is the Law: DO WHAT THOU WILT!" He strikes Eleven times upon the Bell, and cries ABRAHADABRA. I entered in with woe; with mirth I now go forth, and with thanksgiving, To do my pleasure on the earth Among the legions of the living. He goeth forth. Phoenix by Brandon Holt

[e-klair]

Heads Up Seven Up

Thanks so much for tagging me @words-after-midnight! :)

I tag: @nightlylaments @vsnotresponding and @writingmoth. Have fun!

This is a rough translation of Dawn’s chapter 25. As always: If you find some errors, don’t hesitate to let me know!

Leru let out a low growl, but Fiann cupped his snout with her hand.

The tremble in her fingers was evident, yet her tone was firm. I recognised it immediately. It was the same one she used to defend herself against Adev’s disgust.

Soul switcher.

Hypocrite.

“Five-One,” she said. “With all due respect. I am an elf, and as such I am no less touched by the Light than –”

“Silence!” Aredin clenched her fists, the suns on her skin twitching. “Don’t you dare say that. No elf has yet lit a fire with their bare hands. And no elf has yet taken an oath that could not have been broken in the blink of an eye.”

[violetstarlightreaper]

The Oath Between Sun and Moon (New Chapter)

Amity and Luz reunite under the midnight sky in this next chapter! Enjoy!