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thedeevirus · 6 years

Note

Vampire Oswald finding out how his bite effects ed? Maybe he catches Ed jerking off after?

Anonymous said:NSFW Vampire!Oswald please!!

Anonymous said:okay so I’m up for either nsfw or angst for vampire!oswald (bonus I guess if Ed offers his neck/blood to Oswald or if Oswald hungers/is desperate)!! also I’m? so happy you’re still writing ficlets for this au?? I adore your writing so much

Anonymous said:I need more Vampire!Oswald, STAT!

Here you all go! WARNING: NSFW! (HENCE THE KEEP READING TAG)Also uploaded to my Nygmobblepot Ficlet Collection on AO3

Oswaldleant his head against the side of the pigeon coop and sighed heavily, shameprickling along his clammy skin. Overhead thunder clouds rumbled, the night airfeeling close and thick due to the gathering storm. The streets of the Narrowswere empty, the denizens already sheltering from the imminent downpour. Oswaldwould have to go back inside as well to avoid getting soaked.He hoped Ed would be tending to the wound on his arm. The wound Oswald had caused.

Oswaldstill wasn’t quite sure what had happened.One moment he and Ed had just been kissing: gentle pecks as usual whilesnuggling together in bed. Their courtship had not progressed beyond chastekisses and Oswald was grateful for Ed’s consideration of his inexperience. Theyhad seen each other naked (after all Ed had seen Oswald naked all those monthsbefore when he had rescued him from the woods) and enjoyed sleeping in the nudetogether but Oswald was not in a rush to escalate things. But for some reason, during their make out session, Oswald had remembered thesight of Ed’s bloody mouth that day on the docks. The way it had glistened on Ed’steeth when he had smiled and the tang of it on Oswald’s tongue as they hadshared their first halting kiss on the pier after he had saved Ed from Sofia’sthugs. He wondered if that was how Ed would look if he were a vampire?The image had ramped up the pleasurable warmth that had been building insideOswald to a rampant, throbbing heat and he had deepened the kiss automatically,moaning as he felt his length begin to tent his trousers.Ed had responded enthusiastically, his fingers entwining in Oswald’s hair,dragging him closer and closer.Oswald had chased the sensations, luxuriating in this new, deeper and somehowmore meaningful kind of hunger than what he usually experienced. It felt goodto indulge, to be rough, to let go…The next thing he knew he was holding Ed down, fingers clamped on Ed’sshoulders as he ravished his mouth, their tongues dancing in the wet heat, sendingthunderbolts through Oswald’s body and-Then Ed had given a startled cry of painand Oswald had halted immediately. Looking down, he had seen that his nails had transformed into curved claws andpierced Ed’s arm. Blood pooled beneath the points and Oswald had let goimmediately.As he had looked around for something to help with the wound, Oswald had caughta glimpse of his reflection in the mirror. It was an old wife’s tale thatvampires had no reflections at all and what Oswald had seen in the glass hadsmashed through the pleasant haze dragging him immediately back to cold reality.In the midst of his delirium, he had accidentally dropped his human glamourrevealing his real vampiric face.Seeing his monstrous face revealed and Ed’s widened eyes beneath him, Oswaldhad leapt from the bed and instantly fled the room. He had run out into thedarkness where monsters like him belonged.

Oswaldhad reached the roof before his panic had receded and he realised that he hadbeen wrong to flee. Ed’s welfare mattered, not Oswald’s panicked indulgence ofhis shame. So, Oswald had tried to calm down by counting to ten with deepbreaths inhaled through the nose and exhaled through the mouth before returninginside to face Ed. In the process, he had come to a startling revelation.He was in heat. Oswald knew there was no other reason for the severity of the reaction he hadjust experienced. The predatory fixation on domination and drive to mate hadbeen nearly overpowering. Oswald had never experienced such desire before as ahuman or a vampire. When his heat period had come around previously it had beenakin to a nagging itch to be scratched, not something to be enjoyed. Oswald hadalways satisfied himself in the past, feeling uncomfortable yet relieved whenhe climaxed. Was the sensation he had felt earlier what humans and vampiresfelt every time they were sexually aroused? It seemed exhausting! Unsure what to think about this, he focused his preternatural senses to checkif Ed was alright before heading back inside.Only to detect Ed’s heartbeat pounding like the hammers of Hell.

Worried,Oswald instantly transformed into a cloud of mist and flew down the side of thebuilding and in through Ed’s open bedroom window. As he drifted past thecurtains billowing in the warm night air, he was startled at the sight thatgreeted him.

Edwas naked amidst the mussed blankets, pyjamas discarded on the floor and legsakimbo, his pale flesh illuminated by the neon green sign outside his apartmentwindow. He was thrusting two glistening fingers in and out of his ass, his cockpainfully erect as he bucked his hips, groaning. Ed raised his injured arm and Oswaldwatched, enraptured as Ed licked the bloody trail like a cat grooming, hislithe arm outstretched and fingers spread. Ed’s Adam’s apple bobbed as heswallowed the few droplets he had taken and Oswald swallowed hard in unison.He knew for certain now.The hunger he had felt earlier was nothing to do with blood. It was everything to do with Ed.Oswald wanted Ed. Wanted him in a way he had never wanted anyone else.

‘Holdme’, Ed said, staring right at Oswald’s miasmic form.

Oswaldwas so surprised at Ed addressing him that he lost focus and resumed his normalshape automatically.

‘Oswald,hold me’, Ed repeated, his pleading audible even over the rumbling thunderoverhead.

Oswaldmoved towards the bed as if hypnotised.

‘Please…helpme finish’, Ed whispered desperately as Oswald crawled onto the bed, ‘Please’.

Edtilted his head back onto the pillow, a dark blue vein livid against the whiteflesh illuminated as lightning flashed outside and, removing his fingers fromhis entrance, took hold of his cock. Oswald obeyed. The way Ed was gazing up at him, he couldn’t help it. To have someonepractically beg for his caress, plead for him to indulge his hunger, was toomuch to resist.As he sank his teeth into Ed’s waiting neck and felt Ed spasm, milky cum shiningin the moonlight as he ejaculated, Oswald closed his eyes, trying desperatelyto reconcile the drive to feed with the much deeper desire awakening insidehim.

A fewmoments later, they were lying in bed side by side, fully clothed and Edbearing a fresh bandage on his neck. Rain hammered down outside, only servingto highlight how comfortable and safe the bed seemed. Oswald lay with his headresting on Ed’s chest, listening to Ed’s heartbeat. It was calmer now. Content.Peaceful.

‘How’dyou know I was there?’ Oswald asked.His voice sounded loud in the mellow darkness.

‘Ialways know’, Ed replied, the trace of a smile in his words, ‘I wanted you tosee’.

‘Seewhat?’

‘Howmuch I want you’.

Oswaldtouched Ed’s arm wound meaningfully. Ed smiled and placed a hand over Oswald’ssqueezing it reassuringly.

‘You’resure?�� Oswald asked quietly.

‘Itrust you Oswald’, Ed said softly, ‘Fear is no excuse not to try. That is, ifyou want me the same way? Because if you don’t it’s okay-’

‘Ido! I know I do. I just want you to be safe’.

‘Don’tworry’, Ed said.

Hesteepled his fingers and lay on his back, gazing at the ceiling as he set hisformidable brain to the task.

‘Ihave some ideas’, he mused.

Thus,a date was set and preparations began. Ed drew up a rigorous diet plan of red meat, kidney, liver, leafy greenvegetables, eggs and legumes for himself to increase his red blood count. Theyhad decided to include a bite and a small feeding session for Oswald in their lovemaking.Both because Ed genuinely enjoyed the sensation and because of Ed’s theory thatOswald trying to suppress his instincts was a worse idea than allowing him tomate the way vampires were supposed to. Vampires were fundamentally predatorsand as such mated enthusiastically with an emphasis on dominance and displaysof strength. Whilst Ed trusted Oswald implicitly, he also didn’t want theirdesire for safe coitus to completely override the atmosphere and specialsignificance of the act. He didn’t want it to be akin to a chore. Ed also visited his doctor for a physical to ensure his body would be healthyenough to take whatever Oswald could dish out and received a clean bill ofhealth.Meanwhile, Oswald got into the habit of clipping his claws daily to avoidfurther accidents and made sure he fed well on human blood purchasedsurreptitiously from blood banks in the month leading up to the date they hadagreed for their first time to help dampen his hunger. He also researched humanmating positions and etiquette: after all he had not bothered with them when hehad been human and had been even less concerned with them as a vampire beforemeeting Ed. He familiarised himself with them quickly and hoped he would beable to perform when the time came without getting carried away. He also hopedhe would feel something akin to the strong instinctual pull he had felt before withEd rather than the polite disinterest he unfailingly felt while researching themechanics of mating. He didn’t understand how pornography films and magazinesexcited human males when Oswald just felt as if he were studying for a test.Nevertheless, he persevered. Ed’s happiness and sexual satisfaction were worth the hours of watching monotonous,vulgar, gyrating flesh in varying positions.

‘Remember,the safe word is ‘umbrella’’, Ed said, throwing his briefs outside of theblanket.

‘Iremember’, Oswald confirmed, getting into position so he and Ed were lyingbeside each other.

DespiteOswald’s nervousness, as soon as he felt Ed’s warm hand on his skin, he felthimself melting into Ed’s touch.

‘Justbefore we start’, Ed said, ‘Can I ask you something?’

‘Always’.

‘Beforewe start, can I see you? Like you were the other night?’

‘Why?’

‘Iwant you to know you don’t ever have to hide from me’.

‘Just-justfor a moment, alright? Don’t want my teeth getting in the way once we…get going’.

‘Iunderstand’.

‘Itrust you Ed’, Oswald said.

Ednodded solemnly, and, with a final squeeze of Ed’s hand, Oswald dropped hisglamour.

‘Fascinating’,Ed breathed, his analytical mind committing every one of Oswald’s unveiled physicaltraits to memory, ‘May I?’

Oswaldnodded and Ed reached out a hand to stroke Oswald’s cheek. He smiled fondly ashe saw the porcelain skin blush beneath his fingertips. Despite the warmth ofthe blood Oswald had consumed, Oswald’s skin felt cooler and harder than humanskin, like marble hidden beneath a soft, velvet like veneer. His eyes werestill the same colour but his pupils had narrowed to those of a cat’s, an obvioussign of his superior dark vision. Ed marvelled at the lethality in Oswald’snatural face. His eyes were as fierce as a bird of prey’s and his claws shonein the dim light from where his hands were resting in his lap. His sharp canineteeth barely poked beneath his top lip, akin to a tantalising peek at the perfectpredator Oswald truly was inside.Ed thought he was beautiful. Then again, he had always thought that.

Ed usedboth hands to caress Oswald’s face and was rewarded with a small hiss as Oswaldleant into his touch, rubbing his face against the heels of Ed’s open palms asEd ruffled his hair. Ed, gratified that his strategy had successfully helpedOswald relax, leant in for a gentle kiss. Just as Oswald had said, he resumedhis glamour, his teeth shrinking away behind his parting lips.

Justlike the night when Oswald had lost control, the kiss swiftly deepened into amore savage kiss. Both fought for dominance as Ed nibbled Oswald’s lips andOswald sucked hard on Ed’s tongue. After a few minutes, they broke the kiss,breathing hard, pupils blown and mouths bruised.

‘You’redelicious’, Oswald purred, running his tongue along Ed’s jawline.

‘Youhaven’t sampled the best parts of me yet’, Ed whispered into Oswald’s ear.

Helaid his head against the pillow and tilted his chin up, feeling the usualshiver of anticipation as Oswald’s eyes alighted on his exposed, vulnerableneck.Oswald’s lips caressed the vein with a tender kiss and Ed felt as much as heardthe whispered words ‘I love you’ before the pain of penetration by Oswald’steeth.The pain vanished almost immediately, replaced by the usual, mindless bliss Edalways felt when Oswald fed on him. He felt as if he were floating on a warmwave that built and built as Oswald’s ‘attentions’ deepened. It was likegetting drunk without any of the unpleasant side effects: a relaxing haze thatalso sent shivers down your spine and electrified the pleasure centres. Ed couldfeel his cock pulse in time with the heartbeat growing louder in his ears.Oswald’s hands were gentle as they held him in place, his fingers combingthrough Ed’s hair comfortingly, cradling him in a deep embrace. Ed’s own handstrayed to his cock, barely pumping it: just enough friction to make him hungryfor more.Regardless of his self imposed restrictions, when Ed could feel a familiarcoiling sensation beginning in his stomach, he hurriedly patted Oswald’sshoulder.

‘Ah! Umbrella!’Ed gasped, shuddering at the sudden rush of cool air on his skin as Oswaldstopped feeding immediately.

‘DidI hurt you?’ Oswald asked, his concern obvious despite his deliberately casualtone.

Edkissed Oswald’s cheek, catching a glimpse of his reflection in Oswald’s bright,blood red eyes. He tasted blood in his mouth and realised he had accidentally gotsome of the blood from the corner of Oswald’s mouth in his own. Ed smiled: itlooked as if Oswald had clumsily applied bright red lipstick.

‘No’,Ed said, stroking Oswald’s face, ‘I just don’t want to spend it all at once’.

‘I’mglad’, Oswald said with a wicked smile that showed his bloody teeth, ‘I’m readyto move on to the main course’.

Edfelt his heart flutter as Oswald’s eyes changed back to their familiar palegreen in a strange form of reverse bleeding. It made his stare all the more intense.Like a snake staring down a mouse. As he felt Oswald force him down, Ed understoodwhy mice stood still while the snake swallowed them whole. Those eyes were… enthralling.

Edthrilled as Oswald pinned his wrists down, the iron strength in Oswald’s grip atelectrifying odds with the gentle, attentive kisses he was placing along Ed’s collarbone.His tongue flicked delicately over the skin like a butterfly’s wing and beforelong, Ed was practically writhing beneath him. Ed was so busy luxuriating inthe feather light caresses that he didn’t notice Oswald drifting lower andlower, so much so that he kept his wrists pinned even though Oswald had let go.

Oswald’stongue flicking over the head of his erection was a different story. Ed’s eyessnapped open and he looked down to see Oswald gazing up at him, an expressionof almost perverse innocence on his face as he lathed Ed’s cock with histongue, pink still tinging his saliva. At the same time, Oswald’s long fingers cuppedEd’s ballsack, the tips of his nails tickling the skin and making Ed’s hips buck.Ed mewled like an animal, silently begging Oswald to take his cock into hismouth. Oswald feigned curiosity, tilting his head but then smirked and wrappedhis fingers around it instead. Ed quivered at Oswald’s cold fingers around theimpossible heat of his member but these tremors segued into pleasurable,languid thrusts as Oswald began to pump slowly. A few (all too short) secondslater, Oswald let go, holding up his fingers glistening with Ed’s precum intriumph.

‘Ifyou need lube-‘ Ed began but gasped.

Oswald sucked obscenely on his fingers and withdrew them from his mouth. A thick mix of saliva and blood mingled on his digits. Oswaldlowered his hand so his fingertips were pointing at Ed’s entrance. Ed’s breath hitchedand he parted his legs to grant Oswald better access. Oswald, sensing Ed’ssilent consent, traced a fingertip around Ed’s hole, the blood painting it avibrant red, it’s smell and the smell of Ed’s lust making the hairs on the backof Oswald’s neck stand on end.

Ohdear’, Ed said breathlessly, the ticklish sensation incredibly erotic and simultaneouslymaddening.It was better than any lube!Ed repeated the phrase like a mantra and Oswald’s ministrations sped up until(after what seemed like an eternity), the first of Oswald’s fingers penetratedhis entrance. Ed’s back arched against the bed but before he could recover,Oswald added a second finger making Ed cry out in pleasure as his toes clenchedand his fingers curled into claws as they gripped the bedsheet.

‘Areyou going to keep saying that all night?’ Oswald teased.

‘N-no’.

‘Thentell me what I want to hear’.

‘Fuckme Oswald’.

‘Begyour pardon?’

‘Pleasefuck me! For the love of God, fuck me!’

Oswaldplunged inside without further ceremony, giving a savage snarl of satisfaction thatmade Ed’s heart sing even as it made his heart hammer. Oswald began to thrustand the world fell away for Ed, his mouth agape at the sheer enormity of beingfilled by another person. His own fingers had been a means to an end but heknew they would never satisfy him again. Ed felt Oswald physically lifting him up from the bed, either not noticing orcaring about his injured leg. Perhaps he was too caught up in fucking Ed tocare about anything else? The thought made Ed moan and Oswald lifted himhigher, impaling him on his cock, Ed felt as if he were ascending to heaven.

Oswald’sthrusts shocked him to his core, the impacts against his pleasure centre likelightning bolts in his soul, bouncing around its cage of nerves and bone. Ed,frenzied by the shockwaves of pleasure, bit down hard on Oswald’s shoulder in adisplay of sheer, animalistic need. He heard Oswald give a growl followed by adark, appreciative chuckle at the irony of a human biting a vampire.

Ed,somehow still capable of some degree of rational thought despite being fuckedwithin an inch of his life, reached down with a trembling hand for his cock.Only for Oswald to beat him to it.But there was no teasing this time as Oswald began to pump and Ed gave astrangled cry as Oswald matched pace with his thrusts, stimulating Ed from thefront and the back. Oswald was all around Ed like an all-encompassing shadowand Ed fucking loved it!

Oswald’snerve endings were on fire: he felt like he was chasing something wonderful justout of reach. An addict surging after a craving that would fix everything. Hecraved Ed. Ed was everything. As his rational train of thought was finallyderailed, he gave an inhuman cry of exultation as the horizon reared up beforehim like dawn breaking.

Edmatched Oswald’s cry with a guttural roar of sheer ecstasy as his back archedand he came, rocking violently as he rode out the greatest orgasm he had everexperienced.

Feelinghis mate cum was too much for Oswald and his back arched as he painted Ed’sinsides with his seed, truly marking him as his own. He bared his formidable teeth,mouth agape in an instinctive display of primal strength as he held Ed close tohim, listening for the rhythm of his heart in the aftermath of the crescendothey had created together.

Theycollapsed together onto the soft sheets, breathing heavily with delirioussmiles as they gazed at each other. Ed impishly licked a stray droplet of bloodfrom the corner of Oswald’s mouth and drew his tongue across Oswald’s lips,making them glisten. Oswald blew him a kiss in response as if he had justapplied fresh lipstick.

‘So,how are you planning to top that?’ Ed asked mischievously.

Oswaldinhaled and exhaled deeply, surrounded by the heady scent of Ed’s sweat, bloodand the fruity aroma of the lube. It smelt like love. Powerful, all-consumingand utterly addictive.

‘Thenight’s still young’, Oswald promised.

#nygmobblepot ficlet #nygmobblepot #vampire!oswald #edward nygma #Oswald Cobblepot

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cryingbilldenbrough · 6 years

Note

you: a concept: kasplonbrough also you in the tags of your post: “i’m feeling some bill/eddie/mike ot3!” me: ok bitch it’s time so i’m thinking i’m going to need to know who was dating first and how was the third person added? like i need to know some origin stuff. please and thank you (also ilysm).

OK so let’s build off this post

the thing is, bill knows eddie loves mike more than friends, more than a brother even

he can tell by the way eddie gets a little short of breath when mike bends over to pick up a particularly heavy rock, muscles straining beneath a white shirt

and bill knows mike’s similarly smitten, cause he bites back a smile whenever eddie gets started on one of his rants, gearing up and sucking in a deep breath to get ready to talk for as long as he can without interruption

bill figures he just needs to leave them to it

(even though he’s fallen in love with mike’s smile and his casual wit and his soft-spoken intelligence)

(even though he’s been in love with eddie kaspbrak since before he can remember)

he knows he needs to step back and let them figure it out, without getting his own stupid feelings involved

cause for bill, love is So Messy

he’s a glass table with jagged broken edges, one blow from fracturing further into a thousand pieces

and his friends deserve a love untainted, without fear of breaking

(bill’s kind of an idiot)

anyway, mike and eddie never get together as kids

cause eddie goes off to new york for the second half of high school and mike takes on more responsibility at the farm

and they all kind of just…. forget each other

bill forgets about thursday night dinners and helping mike’s mom cook and he forgets looking out the kitchen window to watch mike and eddie, pink cheeked and eyes watering from battling biting wind, do farm chores with breathless smiles on their faces

bill eats dinner alone at the dining room table at his house and can’t shake the feeling of emptiness in his chest

he shoulders the invisible burden, he goes to college, becomes World Famous Author bill denbrough, and forgets all about Derry and his Family

until mike hanlon calls him late one night

it’s nearing 3am and he’s awake, because bill really doesn’t sleep much

and the caller ID has a number with a maine area code

he answers hesitantly, mind almost numbingly blank, and gets shot back into the past by the sound of mike’s voice

he books the next flight home and spends the journey bouncing his knee anxiously

he gets into town at like noon the next day and immediately goes to the derry public library

mike hanlon grew up handsome, as if there was any worry of that

his shoulders are broad and strong and he shakes bill’s hand with confidence and god, bill feels it all rushing back

the warmth of loving mike flows through his veins and god, how did he forget? how did he let this memory slip past his finger tips

the fear is almost an afterthought, the reason they’re there and Together at the back of bill’s mind, forgotten

he goes back to mike’s house and sleeps in his guest room and bill hasn’t felt so At Home since he stopped going to hanlon family dinners

there’s a piece missing though

cause the dinner table isn’t the same when eddie’s not chattering away

conversation is stilted, not because mike and bill can’t get along by themselves, but because they’re constantly pausing

as if they know instinctively eddie would want to butt in and say his piece

it’s not until the next day, late into a lazy afternoon

(mike had gone to work for a few hours in the morning and returned to explain the Full Story of Its return with bill)

eddie comes home

he somehow knows where mike lives, marching right up the porch steps and something in bill’s chest pulls him to the door, answering it before eddie can even knock

eddie kaspbrak grew up good. his hair is fluffy and he has a pair of thin-framed wire glasses on his face and he’s wearing a really warm looking sweater

bill scoops him into a hug and breathes in deep, familiar and grounding

they share a bottle of wine in celebration that night, gathered around the kitchen table at mike’s house

they’re loose, flushed and giggly, and bill looks at his boys with wonder on his face

“how’s your dad?” eddie asks, almost as if the thought has just occurred to him

bill remembers then, remembers cooking with jess hanlon, remembers the bond with mike’s family he once had

mike swallows, looking just a little too old and weary, and tells them of both parent’s tragic deaths

will passed away from cancer a few winters back and jess hanlon followed him peacefully the following spring

it really really fucking hurts to hear

it’s like bill’s been given a gift and then had it ripped from his grip

he reaches out, across the table, and grabs mike’s hand

eddie has the other, fingers interlocked, and they’re a chain of grieving

they spend that night in remembrance of their family and all they shared

as time goes on, the losers arrive one by one

bev then ben then richie (no stan, and that fucking burns too)

they spend a day lost in memories again, relearning a forgotten childhood

and bill tries not to want it

he tries not to want to gather eddie and mike up and flee this cursed town

he tries not to want to finally let himself indulge in a fantasy where he gets both of his boys all for his own

he tries not to picture himself happy

because it’s all going to be torn apart soon

he puts his head down and tries to get some fucking Work done and doesn’t get distracted by eddie’s familiar lilting laugh and mike’s fucking stupid white smile

(it’s not going well)

they go on their Walking Tours and god, it’s only worse

cause mike fucking gives bill the gift of Silver, of memory of childish carefree fun

bill and mike spend the afternoon riding his bike like fucking children

and then eddie comes home from his own Tour with scraped knees and a dirty face and bill plummets back to earth

he remembers why they’re here

he throws himself back into it with fervour

he tries to remember their secrets, their hidden weapons, the reasons they survived the first time

he tries to make a plan, a foolproof plan to beat It

letting himself get lost in mike and eddie is really not a part of the plan

unfortunately (fortunately) for bill, eddie kaspbrak has never once done anything according to bill’s plan

he sneaks into bill’s room late one night, when they’re so close to the end that bill can taste it

there’s a thrumming in the air that bill knows means their time is almost up

(bill doesn’t know that Henry Bowers is currently making his way to the hanlon house, fully intent on killing them all)

he slides the door open almost silently, feet tracking over the hardwood floors, and bill sits up in bed as he enters

“eds?” he says, voice scratchy, and feels eddie sit down on the edge of his bed

“it’s me” he answers, but bill knew that from his soft breath and steady heartbeat

“w-what’s up?”

“oh, nothing. just wondering if we’re gonna die tomorrow.”

bill doesn’t answer. it’s answer enough. eddie sighs and takes a deep breath in, almost like he’s steeling himself

(bill loves his brave boy)

“bill?”

“yeah”

“i love you”

bill wants to brush it off

he wants to go back to forgetting, to letting things fall through his fingers without feeling their loss

but he can’t

“i love you t-too, eds” he says instead

eddie plants a hand on bill’s knee through the blankets and kisses him

just once, light and steady, and then he backs off

and u KNOW that once bill’s tasted the forbidden fruit he can’t forget

he dives back in head first

“what about mike” he can’t help but breathe against eddie’s mouth

“i’m sorry,” eddie says, and moves back

bill chases him, leaning in and trying to capture his mouth again, but eddie’s gone

“what?” bill asks, confused

“i’m sorry, i shouldn’t have,” eddie’s making excuses, running a hand through his hair and bill reaches up to flatten it down “i just thought maybe…. i just figured you had maybe felt what i did but i understand if you’re just interested in mike i shouldnt have assumed and i love mike too it’s okay you two deserve each other i shouldn’t have come in here”

“whoa whoa whoa,” bill says, putting his hands up because eddie is rambling and he isn’t making any sense “eds, i love you,”

“yeah, but–”

“but what?”

“but you love mike”

bill chuckles

“can’t i love both my boys?” he says

and eddie fucking crashes into him

anyway, i dont feel like getting into logistics bc i have already written too many words of ot3 makeouts and there’s only so many times u can write three-way kissing b4 u wanna die

but they end up in mike’s bed, pressed together on the king size mattress

and that’s when fucking henry bowers makes his debut

but!

mike’s not alone this time

he’s flanked by bill and eddie and they have something worth fucking fighting for now

they’re been recharged by every moment they’ve been together and they’re fucking unstoppable

mike takes a knife to the thigh and bowers gets off a solid right hook to eddie’s jaw but otherwise they’re virtually unharmed

it has Begun though

they make their way down to the sewer, just like they’re meant to

except man, bill’s powerful this time

(there’s no Audra, nothing to distract him, and his boys are walking strong beside him)

eddie supports mike, the other man’s arm thrown over his shoulder, as they track through the sewers

and while Bill and Richie go into the deadlights, mike is there to help eddie take down the spider

and eddie kaspbrak does not lose his fucking arm

because right as he’s thrusting his inhaler into Its mouth, mike’s arm catches him round the waist and pulls him back

eddie loses the tips of his fingers but it could have been a LOT fucking worse

eddie and mike call bill back from the Deadlights together, whispering “come home bill” into the Void

“you’re too old,” It tries to taunt, tries to distract from the power of eddie and mike calling him back “too old and broken and you’re all going to die here”

bill hears mike and eddie’s whisper in his head

and turns to richie, eyes flashing wickedly in the dark vaccuum of the void

and he smiles

because nothing can stop bill from getting back to his boys

send me requests/headcanons/prompts!

#kasplonbrough #bill denbrough #eddie kaspbrak #mike hanlon #it headcanons #DO I HAVE TO BUILD THIS RELATIONSHIP FANDOM ALL BY MYSELF #anyway sorry this didn't probably go as deep as u wanted #maybe ill write a real fic of it someday #my writing

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worldbestlawyers · 7 years

Text

New Post has been published on World Best Lawyers

New Post has been published on http://www.worldbestlawyers.com/pegasus-a-memoir-about-dream-image-work/

Pegasus - A Memoir About Dream Image Work

I first encountered Robert Bosnak’s dream work technique at the C. G. Jung Institute in Boston and was later invited into a private dream group that met around a woodstove in the upstairs of his barn in the suburbs of Boston. This group deeply explored the unconscious lives of the group members. Huddled in a small circle under blankets, we only knew one another by sharing our dreams. Here I learned more about archetypal symbolism. Universal symbols can contribute to a dream’s meaning, not always by translation but by seeing the dream on the mythic level. Joseph Campbell once said in an interview, myths are society’s dreams.

Throughout all of known history, archetypes are repeated, albeit in different forms. Archetypes are dynamic forces, identified for instance, as The Divine Child, The Wise Old Man or Woman, The Devouring Feminine, The Hero, The Underworld, Trickster, Shadow, among others.

When we can look at our lives mythically we are able to accept the more difficult passages as the continuum of inevitable change. The Dark Night of the Soul is equivalent to the Nigredo in alchemy, descent into the depths, and whether it is one of sorrow or trauma, this stage is a universal one for the hero or heroine of many a myth. When we see our particular pain as a rite of passage rather than a termination, we then have the courage to confront the situation with the dragon or witch (or job loss or lawyer), understanding and feeling which part of ourselves is resisting growth.

In Bosnak’s private group we learned to apply more pressure to the vessel by questioning the dreamer; we went into the discomfort of difficult images, watching psyche autonomously at work. One discovery was to see how the dream expanded under this “heat” and in the two hour sessions we spoke of personal stories as well. All the members were able to enter the twilight consciousness under the pressure of intensive questioning.

Sometimes there were silences when everyone had fallen into the image as if it were a black hole. Sometimes active imagination would cause new images to appear. Returning to earlier scenes after feeling emotional release, we found they had changed and often enough, the monster was quelled. Most of the detours a dreamer took turned out to be relevant, resonating in a new manner. This exploration each week felt like a sacred ceremony. Even when we’d sat for long duration with a grotesque image, a mass murderer, a river of maggots, an explosive planecrash, sexual molestation, bloody wars-there was a deep sense of mystical participation in a ritual and the group bonded tightly.

Sometimes synchronistic phenomena accompanied the work and we were eerily spooked. Once an airplane dream summoned low-flying jets overhead. A dream of insects produced a large horsefly in the room. Or noises would occur at significant moments- the hum of the furnace kicking on, a neighborhood siren or barking dog, a fit of coughing, a trio of sneezes occurring at precise moments when the pressure cooker contained related imagery.

There was the contagion of laughter and tears too, usually at the unimaginable pain that the human psyche represses. Dreams exaggerate but the range of orphans, rag dolls, deformed babies, tree stumps, vile reptiles, severed limbs, earthquakes and floods was not infrequently disconcerting, especially to the dreamer. Occasionally the group dreamt in synch, animal dreams, diving dreams- eroticism. I recall once when we journeyed into space and hung there like the floating fetus in the film “2001.” In the luxury of time spent on a single dream, every nuance was followed.

Often we left these meetings dazed, smiling abashedly at one another when we finally opened our eyes. There was also a cautious respect for distance and the absolute understanding the work was confidential. I felt privileged to be a part of this dream cult and stayed with this group for four years and next to my son, it became the most important thing in my life. We led each other through questions about atmosphere, time of day, colors, sounds and sensate images. One dream I experienced there demonstrates the transformative aspects of the work. Here is the dream:

I’m on a beach, the beach I walk daily near home. It ‘s evening and I’ve just left a party where there were a lot of macho men annoying as well as rejecting me. I come down to the beach in a sullen mood when a huge German shepherd comes out from a rock and begins barking at me as if he is preparing to attack. I am terrified. I grab a stick and thrust it between his teeth, beginning to wrestle with him for the stick. I think if I engage him in play, he might see me as a friend. I throw the stick for him to fetch and as he chases it, I lean back against a rock. It seems I can relax, for I have befriended the wolf. As I lean back, the rock begins to move and I realize I am pulled upward on the back of a horse, side-saddle. The horse is white and has wings; it spreads them and lifts me up with it as it ascends into the sky. I am awed and amazed as I awaken.

The group spent a long time getting me to feel the instincts of the dog. The value of “archetypal amplification” here is shown when we realize the dog is often a psychopomp guiding us through the underworld. Think of Anubis, the Egyptian god with the dog’s head. I was still in the lower realms with my negative masculine complex, wrestling with my demons so-to-speak, and yet all the freedom, the sky the horse flies into, to me was significant. Some of the group actually laughed at the bizarre fairy-tale ending to this dream-riding a Pegasus off into the stars!

When I amplified the archetypal meaning of Pegasus. I was surprised to learn that the winged horse was born from the blood that flowed at the beheading of the Medusa. If Medusa is the hag, the dark side of the feminine, the devouring bitch, she gives birth, nevertheless, to the beautiful Pegasus who represents-unbeknownst to me, my favorite art form, poetry!

Later I came across the essay “Horses With Wings” by the poet, Denise Levertov. Pegasus’s father is Poseidon, the god of the sea-“… undifferentiated energy… a source of life but also of terror” (Levertov 125).

Levertov also informs us that “… Medusa’s legends place her as a manifestation of the Earth Mother’s terrible and devouring aspects…” (126). Furthermore “The word Gorgon relates to gargle, gurgle, and gargoyle: Medusa is called “a shriek personified’ ” (127). Pegasus was born of the neck of the Medusa, an intermediary place between mental and physical capacities. In fact “… it was not until the moment that Medusa’s blood, spurting from her neck, touched earth that he became manifest” (129). Levertov associates the Medusa’s face with “… snakes and claws, wings and scales… gorgonic features” which “correspond to the quaking magma of emotion” (133).

Emotion is often the catalyst for the poet’s creation. Levertov speaks of Pegasus as intuitive, as a metaphor for the poem rather than the poet” (134). I saw that my dream demonstrated how the material of the underworld could be transformed into something expressive. “To say that the poem, as well as the poet, is animal means that it has its own flesh and blood and is not a rarefied and insubstantial thing” (134).

Pegasus, then is poetry, born of a “fusion of opposites.” The image emerges at the greatest point of tension. “Pegasus strikes his hoof on a stone and releases a fountain… the fountain of poetic inspiration henceforth sacred to the Muses” (129). He flies upward, like my imagination always reaching higher.

Levertov’s essay amplified my dream. The symbol of the Pegasus in its archetypal meaning was not something I consciously knew. Although I had studied mythology and knew of Pegasus in several myths, I didn’t know his significance and had not related to him as a symbol for this peculiar little hobby I had of writing poems. In alchemy the gold is transformed from the work that is done on the lead, the “Nigredo,” the dark night of the soul. I was not yet riding Pegasus in my life but I was mining the soul and facing the music, or dirge if-you-will, of my own darkness. That we can turn our demons into diamonds was not a new idea for me, yet I had not seen it happen in concrete terms like these images presented.

My dream showed how the unconscious is not time-bound. It would be a few years before I would publish a book that transformed loss into something outside of me with its own authority. Apparently, I was wrestling with the dog.

The dream group became my religion, where I felt touched by spiritual energy. It was where I witnessed conjunctions resonating like a hall of mirrors, where I received communion both with the material and with the group members. Over those years everything in my life deepened. I saw that dreams came from my daily world and their hooks into my feeling world grafted my nocturnal images.

Through the active imaginative work we make stories of our memories in ways that can’t be proven true. Memory itself is imaginative in its selection, unique to each individual. As I told a dream and the stories that ran beneath it, only my imagination could effect psychological changes. We do indeed create our reality and that reality is relative. From this I learned how wrong we are in judging one another. I saw how dreamwork could open a person to the possibility of altering a worldview. We can choose to end our victim hood by re-experiencing the feelings of the past and revision them in such a way as to make us capable of joy where sorrow had been.

References: Levertov, Denise. “Horses With Wings.” What Is A Poet? Ed. Hank Lazer. Tuscaloosa: The University of Alabama Press, 1987. 124-134.

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