#coffin riders

[cranberryvishnu]

Cranberry - Bloody Tom and the Coffin Riders... Colter the first wave

This is part V of a series. If you want to read parts I through IV - follow these links: Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV

Or you can just jump right in here!

"...So - to be clear - when you say: 'kicking an ass,' it has nothing whatsoever to do with animal abuse?"

I had to be sure, but I could tell that Bloody Tom was getting a little tired of explaining it.

I glanced over at Eli who had been consolidating our armaments with Ezekiel, the mayor's slow witted, but affable son. They were stockpiling ammunition along the back wall of the bunkhouse we were in. The pile had grown large and alarmingly unstable, so I was glad he was there to help organize it all.

I noticed Eli pause, and take a seat on one of the crates. As he settled in, he leaned forward to watch our conversation. It was as though he were about to observe something very amusing.

Then my attentions were swiftly drawn back to our discussion as Bloody Tom slapped his hand on the table, causing the plates and utensils to rattle and dance slightly. He wasn't known for his patience.

"For fuck's sake Cranny! NO! 'Kicking ass' is when you beat someone's shit! You WIN - and... and the other dude is your bitch!"

The Coffin Riders had taken to calling me "Cranny."

At first I did not like the name at all. It sounded a little like 'granny' and also evoked dark places in old cellars where insects might hide.

Yet over time, I got used to it, and realized it's not the word - but who is saying it and how it is meant, that is most important. Now I find it has a rather endearing quality, and it would be most strange to hear my new friends refer to me by any other name.

Also, Tom's logic was starting to make sense - but now the word 'bitch' had been added to the taxonomical mix - and it's use generated more questions.

I leaned over the table and turned the key on the lamp to kill the flame as the morning sun's pale, cold rays had just started to slant into the window.

We could be attacked any day now and needed to save the kerosene.

As I pursued my line of questioning, I softened my voice to signal my earnest desire to know. I really wanted to understand how they thought about things.

"I see... but when you bring the term 'bitch' into the mix Tom, it just sounds more and more like you have some kind of vendetta against animals."

Eli made a sudden weird grunting sound as if he was stifling a sneeze. An understandable reaction, as it was quite dusty where he was sitting.

Bloody Tom opened his mouth to fire back, but I quickly put a hand up to signal I wasn't finished and continued.

"Now before you say anything - I understand that 'bitch' doesn't simply mean a female dog. I know that it is also applied to horrible ladies, and often it can be men who you are able to overpower and intimidate. But still - it just seems to me like you have something against animals in general. Animal related slurs are frequently directed at the center of whatever is vexing you in the moment."

Tom's eyes glazed over and he looked down at the rough hewn table we sat at. With his fingertips, he slowly pushed away the tin mug of coffee in front of him. It was as though this vessel contained the source of all his troubles.

"Cranny - I don't even..."

He turned to Eli, but found no help there. Eli had gone back to stacking the ammunition with Ezekiel. When he turned back to me and spoke, it was quiet... controlled, and only the slightest tremor in his voice gave away his profound annoyance. I was truly touched by my leader's sincere attempts to modulate is temper for me.

"We're gonna have to table this little discussion, because - it's time for me to go annnnnnd uh... do something meaningful now - so Cranny, I'm going to go out and kill us all some food."

I was embarrassed by my own impertinence and frustrated by my lack of ability to understand the vernacular of the west. I also wanted to do something meaningful too and made a suggestion.

"Tom... I couldn't help noticing that there are bright red barrels and crates containing TNT inexplicably scattered all over town. That could be enormously dangerous if we are attacked. Shall I remove them to a single, safe location?"

I heard that strange stifled sneeze sound come from Eli's direction again. When I glanced at him, I thought he was smiling - but it could have just been gas. It's hard to say with the quality of the canned food here in Colter.

I was most pleased to hear Bloody Tom agree with my idea.

"Uhhhh... fuck yes you should move them to a safe location. That would be a great idea Cranny! Won't lie - kinda thought that had already happened by now... but - whatever, just get all that shit stowed. Get a wagon and some help - and move those fuckers into the basement of the old church pronto!"

Eli slid the last ammunition crate into place and knocked the dust from his hands as he addressed me.

"I'll give you a hand with that Cranny -"

He turned to the young man who had been helping him - and patted him good naturedly on the shoulder.

"Thanks Zeke, you were a big hel-"

KRACK-A-BOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMM!

Zeke's head was there one moment and then suddenly... it was gone! Only his neck stump remained, belching up a terrible fountain of dark red foam. Eli's wide eyes were bright as they contrasted against his blood spattered face - yet surprisingly - he was the first to speak. He turned to Bloody Tom and me as we just stared...

"I swear - I just touched him on the shoulder. Seriously, it was just a friendly pat - it wasn't that har- "

SSSHHHHHBBBBOOOOMMMMM!

The whole front of the building exploded inwards. It was like the furniture, all the jars on the shelves - everything sprung to life and flew at us in a mad rage. Eli and I were flung like dolls against the back wall and I dimly saw Bloody Tom fly off in the opposite direction, crashing like a meteor through tables, chairs and bunks.

The ammunition boxes ruptured and the shelves caved in causing thousands of bullets to slide and cascade down, piling up around Eli and me burying us in loose clattering heaps of brass and lead.

As the ringing in my ears subsided, I could hear the sounds of gunfire and shouting coming through the smoking, blackened ruin that was once the front of our bunkhouse. I could smell smoke - sulfur...

I felt a hand on my shoulder, and realized it had been there a while and was shaking me. It was Eli -

"Cranny, you okay?"

I sat up causing the bullets that had covered me to slide off chattering onto the floor. I ran my hands over my body and did a quick assessment.

"I, uh - y-yes... fine... and you??"

Eli was already unslinging his gun and stuffing cartridges in his pockets.

"Yeah, I'm good. We're under attack and need to move quick - where's Bloody - "

From the far corner of the room, we first heard - then saw to our great relief - Bloody Tom emerge unscathed from beneath a pile of broken burning furniture and twisted metal. He wasn't happy...

"Yeah - I'm fine TOO! Thought I'd just mention that since NO ONE is asking. But I guess that's because I'm just a worthless piece of shit... But hey - I'm glad YOU'RE okay!"

Eli just rolled his eyes as though it were some inside joke - but I called to our leader over the sound of sliding debris and settling rubble. I was horrified that he would think such a thing!

"Oh Tom that is not true we were SO very concerne - "

WWWWWHHHHHAAAABLAAAAAMMM!

A huge explosion hit the church just across the narrow street from our destroyed building. The shockwave knocked us all to the ground as soot and ash rained down everywhere. Again, the ringing in my ears gave way to more shouts and gun fire. As we scrambled to our feet a second time - the light behind me was blocked by something - or someone - coming through the opening!

I spun up to my knees and drew my LeMat - but held fire - it was Mr. Grimfrost! He was standing on a pile of broken stone that had once been a chimney.

Like us, he was covered with soot, and paused calmly to brush some burning embers from the shoulder of his jacket. When he spoke it was in that gentle, relaxed way of his that made every situation seem quite reasonable.

"It looks like the attack started a little early... so... when you ladies are done napping - we could really use your help."

#cranberry vishnu #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #original character #bloody tom #coffin riders #eli #mr. grimfrost

[yelenaday]

I Made a Glowing Mini Resin Heart | Steampunk Coffin Halloween Diorama C...

#youtube #halloween #diorama #miniature #coffin #spooky #heart #resinart #grandfather clock #steampunk #art #ghost rider #gears #dollhouse #booknook

[secretsofblackthornhall]

Kit to Ty

Ty,

I need someone to talk to and I don’t want it to be Julian or Emma. Or Jem or Tessa. So it’ll have to be you. Which means I can’t ever send this and you can’t ever read it. I’ll burn it in the garden when I’m done writing it so I’m not tempted to send it.

The gardens here are really excellent, by the way. I guess you know that since you’ve been here. There’s an old Georgian greenhouse, and a little pond with lilies and frogs and benches to watch them, and a walled garden, and it’s just very nice to walk around here with Mina. I never had a sister or brother before, you know that, but being with Mina makes me realize more about how you felt about Livvy. Still feel about Livvy I guess. I’m not saying I forgive you. Just maybe I understand more.

Blackthorn Hall is still being restored, of course, and there are faeries everywhere doing the restorations. They’re brownies, apparently, and even though they aren’t doing anything that interesting—weeding and carrying wheelbarrows of dirt and whatever—I can’t stop watching them. I have hardly seen any faeries at all since—well, since we were in that battle with them. I guess I didn’t realize how strictly I was being kept apart from them. Until now.

I should really stay away from them, because every time I get close enough for them to talk to me, they do something to freak me out. The head builder, this guy Round Tom— he’s not even that round, honestly — anyway the first time Round Tom saw me he did a little thing where he jumped in a circle and made some odd gestures in the air, and then bowed in my direction. I just turned around on my heel and walked off in the other direction like I had just remembered I forgot something.

And then General Winter, like Kieran’s General Winter, was there helping out—Julian says he’s there to keep all the workers in line since they are scared of General Winter but not Round Tom—and he knew I was the First Heir. Like the Riders did.

The Riders whose horses I made disappear. Or something. I don’t know if they ever came back. No one seems to know.

I tried to pretend I didn’t hear General Winter either but we were just out in the open and it would have been way too obvious. So when he addressed me as First Heir all I could think of to say was, “That’s me. Or at least that’s what I’ve been told.”

“If you’ve been told,” he said, “then it is true, since we do not lie.”

I wanted to say buddy, I worked at the Los Angeles Shadow Market for years. Faeries do all kinds of sketchy stuff. Instead I just said, “I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do about it.”

 General Winter watched me with this thoughtful look on his face, and said, “You need do nothing about it, yet. Indeed, at this moment that might be the wisest course of action. For things are strange in Faerie.”

“What do you mean?” I said.

“There are disturbances,” he said slowly. “Rumors swirl about the Seelie Court. And Mother Hawthorn walks again.”

BEfore I could ask him what any of that meant, Round Tom came rushing over. “Cousins.” (I had forgotten faeries sometimes addressed each other like that, and it gave me a little shiver, like he was saying, you are one of us.) “I have found something. Please come with me.”

He led us around to one of the big plane trees. A little ways away from the trunk was a huge hole, and then on the other side of the tree were two sawhorses across which balanced a coffin.

At least I think it was a coffin. It was really busted up, half-rotted, cracked everywhere, caked in dirt. It was obviously the thing that had come out of the hole.

“A tomb?” said General Winter as we got closer, but Round Tom was shaking his head.

“We would not have disturbed a tomb,” said Round Tom. “But none lie buried here. Only magic, of a dark and powerful kind.” He stepped back. “Look inside.”

I came closer. There was indeed a bunch of random stuff inside the coffin. It looked like—well, you know how old Egyptian pharaohs were buried with all their belongings? It was like that, I assume for a Shadowhunter, except the belongings were a weird assortment. It was dirty and falling apart and mostly just junk—papers and little jars and bits of fabric and the hilt of a sword with no blade, that kind of thing.

“How old is it?” I said, and Round Tom reached it and fished out a liquor bottle. The label was pretty faded and ripped but it was a printed label, in a Victorian style. I wondered if Jem or Tessa would have any guess whose stuff it could be.

“You said there was magic here?” I said.

“Dark magic,” Round Tom said gravely. “Wild magic.”

“The curse?” said General Winter.

Round Tom’s expression cleared and he shrugged. “Perhaps not. It’s actually much less demonic in nature than the curse on the house. But emanating from the foot of an unremarkable tree it bore exploration. There are two items that might be of further interest.”

He cleared away some of the mess and revealed a scabbard. It was a very nice scabbard. Sorry, that doesn’t really capture it. A very very nice scabbard. It needed some cleaning up, but it was obviously beautiful and, I’m sure, valuable. It was steel but covered in gold inlay all over in the shape of leaves and birds. There were some runes on it, too, so it was definitely a Shadowhunter’s at some point.

“Nice,” I said.

“It is more than ‘nice,’” General Winter said. “It is clearly the work of Lady Melusine herself. See how it has not deteriorated at all?”

Round Tom looked important. “And yet it is the less interesting of the two pieces,” he said. With a great dramatic gesture that he had clearly practiced ahead of time, he pushed all of the junk to one side in the coffin, leaving—

“Is that…a gun?” I said.

“One of those mundane weapons, yes,” said Round Tom. He picked it up as though it might go off, though it was rusty and covered in dirt. It was a revolver. It didn’t look any different than revolvers from a million gangster movies, or Westerns—I guess if I were really sending this to Ty I would have to explain what a Western was.

Anyway the big difference was this gun was covered in etchings and runes and words and was obviously magic af. (Which means . . . oh, never mind what it means.)

“But Shadowhunters don’t use guns,” I said.

“They never have,” General Winter agreed. He picked up the gun with a surprising amount of familiarity, and sighted along it in the direction of a nearby tree. He tried to fire and it just clicked — the cylinder didn’t even turn.

“Rusted shut, probably,” said Tom. General Winter handed it to me to look at. I’m not good enough with runes to know any of the ones that were on it. I pointed it at the same tree, kind of as a joke, kind of just to feel how heavy it was, and pulled the trigger, and there was a huge BANG and a bunch of wood splinters exploded from the tree.

My arm kicked back from the force of the shot. And we all stared. My ears were buzzing, but I thought I heard Round Tom say something to General Winter. I’m pretty sure the words First Heir were in there.

Certainly when I looked at them again, at Round Tom and General Winter, their expressions were guarded. Closed.

“Perhaps we should take this item inside and see if the other Nephilim recognize anything about it,” General Winter said flatly.

 “I’m sure it just only works for Shadowhunters,” I told General Winter, but he just gave me kind of a troubled look and said nothing. “Anyway. I’ll bring it in.”

I could feel General Winter and Round Tom watching me as I ran across the lawn and into the house. Jem and Tessa were sitting on a couch in the drawing-room, watching Mina coloring with crayons on some butcher paper.

The moment I came in holding the gun both of them looked utterly shocked. Tessa got to her feet and moved between me and Mina. I told myself she was standing between the gun and Mina, but it still felt rotten.

“What—” said Jem, standing up, but he didn’t finish the sentence. He just stared at me, and the gun.

“Round Tom found it in the garden,” I said. “Is this a gun for Shadowhunters?” I could feel my voice getting tighter. “Shadowhunters don’t use guns.”

“Long ago, Christopher Lightwood tried to create a gun that Shadowhunters could fire,” said Tessa. She was still staring at the gun.

 “It was in a coffin,” I said. “With a bunch of other stuff. A broken sword, and a fancy scabbard.”

“I wondered what he did with it,” said Jem. He? Who was he?

Jem and Tessa exchanged a look.  “The gun belonged to my son James,” she said. I felt kind of sick. Tessa hardly ever talked about her children with Will. “He was the only one who could use it. It would not fire in anyone’s hands but his.”

“I fired it,” I said.

They both looked stunned, and not in a good way. 

“You are very special, Kit,” Jem said. “You are the First Heir. We don’t yet know the extent of how that power works in you.”

“Or perhaps it is just that he has faerie blood,” said Tessa.

I could have said that it definitely wasn’t just faerie blood because General Winter couldn’t use the gun and he doesn’t only have faerie blood, he has a full faerie body with faerie organs and everything. But I didn’t say anything. I just felt a weird feeling in my stomach. I said I would put the gun away and not use it, and Jem and Tessa seemed to feel that was the best thing I could do, and Mina piped up and said “Gun!” and then I felt like the worst person on earth.

So now it’s late and I’m up writing this letter to you that I am going to burn when I’m done, because I can’t sleep. Because I don’t want to be the only person in the world who can fire a magic gun. I don’t want General Winter to straighten up when I’m nearby like I outrank him. I don’t want any of this. I had five minutes where I got to think, oh neat, I found this cool-looking gun and I bet there’s a story behind it, I wonder if they’ll let me keep it or if it needs to go to a museum or something. And then I fired it and instantly—just another thing that’s weird about me.

Good night, Ty. I’ll never send this, and you’ll never read it.

Kit

[ladykailitha]

Icarus Part 8

Hey, guys! The plot is plotting and coming along. I've just had a rough week last week and really didn't get too far on any of my works but the omegaverse sequel. So I'm chomping through my backlog (which is a good thing, I promise, that's what it's for).

In this Steve has to deal with the not fun side of the music business, but Eddie is there to soothe the way.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7

****

Steve chewed on his nail as he looked over the contract for the tour they were going to be headlining for Corroded Coffin. It came with their usual anonymity clause.

The part Steve wasn’t sure about was the part where the guys and his roles on the tour to hide that they were part of the band.

Spence being a medic made sense. He was medically trained as an EMT and kept up on his certification even after they made it big.

Simon’s made sense too. Eddie had seen him as a roadie that night, so him continuing that was fine.

It was Shane and Steve’s that concerned him. He didn’t want to PA for The Fallen because then Dustin and his friends would want things like backstage passes and VIP tickets.

Things Steve didn’t want to do because that would get them too close to the action and he worried they would notice that they wouldn’t see Abbadon and him in the same place and put two and two together.

Shane’s role was that of an advance person. Someone that rode into town first to make sure everything was as it supposed to be according to their rider.

Steve loved Shane with all his heart, but he couldn’t think of a worse “job” for him.

Plus it wouldn’t make sense because he wouldn’t be on the same bus as the rest of the band.

He called up Robin.

“Hello!” she chirped her greeting. “What’s up?”

“I’m looking over the contract and they want me to PA and Shane to advance.”

There was silence on the line for a moment or two before Robin said, “I’m on it. I’ll get back to you.”

“Thanks, Celeste,” Steve teased.

He was not surprised when she just hung up on him. He chuckled.

His best friend was working on getting Shane and him in the right roles. On their last tour, Shane and Simon had been roadies and Steve had been an assistant like Robin.

Steve looked back at the contract with a sigh. He set it aside and pulled out his notebook. He couldn’t write lyrics or music, but he could write down his thoughts and feelings.

He wrote about the fear of being discovered, of showing his true self. What people would think of him and his friends. Everyone said that metal fans were among the most welcoming in the industry.

Unless you looked like someone they didn’t approve of. Steve couldn’t remember which 1980s rocker it was, but the dude was papped outside a store waiting for his wife in cargo shorts and Birkenstocks and the internet had a fucking field day.

Like how dare he go to the store not dressed all in black and leather and chains everywhere.

It was no doubt the biggest reason no one had cottoned on to him and his friends being The Fallen. Because why would four preppy guys be the members of the hottest rising metal band right now?

He flipped to a different page and began writing about finding love where you left it. Eddie had always had Steve’s heart, ever since they were thrown together when a freak earthquake that was caused by nearby fracking destroyed almost half the town they grew up in.

Eddie ran the local DND club which Dustin and his friends had been a part of.

Steve had managed to keep all of them safe and Eddie, who had been unsure of the former jock had warmed up to him by the time they had come through at the end of the week long ordeal.

Steve had fallen in love with Eddie’s sense of humor, his dimpled smile, and doe brown eyes.

So he wrote about that too.

By the time Robin had called back he had written so much his hand was cramping.

“Hello, hello!” he greeted warmly.

“Hey,” Robin said. “So I talked it over with their lawyers and ours and I think we’ve go the solution.”

“Hit me with it,” Steve said.

“Right so we have Shane assisting with me,” she said. “He doesn’t have anyone really close to him who would ask for favors and shit, or at least not ones he wouldn’t gleefully tell to fuck off.”

Steve sighed in relief. “That’s good.”

“You were a little trickier,” Robin admitted. “But then I remembered you picked up a couple of CPR certifications in the past and got them to make you medic too. You just have to take the refresher courses while we’re in the studio.”

Steve chewed on his thumb. He had wanted to be an EMT before he met Spence and saw how much it took out of him.

“Wouldn’t it look bad if two medics suddenly vanished for two hours every night?”

Robin chuckled. “You’re assigned especially to the band. So you can’t be called during a performance. I do think of these things you know.”

Steve sighed with relief. “I know you do, I just worry.”

“Worry wart,” she teased. “It’ll be fine. You just have to keep it in your pants while on tour because an EMT dating a rockstar is going to be suspicious as hell.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “You mean like every other tour we’ve been on?”

“Only this time,” she said, voice dangerously low, “you’ve got temptation in the form of one Eddie Munson, the man you’ve been pining over for literal years.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve groused. “Am I at least allowed to be seen with Eddie you know, considering we are friends?”

Robin sighed dramatically. “I guess. Just try to keep the PDA to a minimum please.”

“I promise.”

This was going to a very long three month tour.

****

Jim Hopper was a former Marine and he looked it. He was built like a tank with a grizzled appearance and cigar tucked between his teeth. Simon thought that he thought Hopper scared the enemy off just glaring at them and Steve privately agreed.

He was there for two reasons. To deprogram their stage persona and to brush Steve up on his emergency medical training.

Actually they all were learning because it was it interesting. Simon and Shane didn’t need to pay attention for certification, but they did anyway.

“How long do you guys plan to be in the studio this week?” Hopper asked. “I need to know if I need to have someone else pick up my daughter from the airport.”

“They want us to have at least eight hours in the studio a day,” Shane explained. “They want us to get as much done as we can before Corroded Coffin goes on tour so they can at least release a single or two.”

Hopper nodded. “Then I should be fine. She’s a fashion designer in New York and the fashion house she works at is sending her out here to intern at their LA branch.”

“That’s awesome!” Shane said. “Maybe while she’s here we can fan her design our costumes for the new tour.”

Hopper shook his head. “As long as it paid. This internship sure ain’t.”

Robin threw her arms in the air. “Fine! I’ll see what the budget is for that and get back to you.”

Hopper chuckled.

“They have you wrapped around their fingers, girly.”

Robin smirked. “Don’t I know it.”

****

That night Steve called Eddie up.

“Hey, baby,” he cooed.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Eddie greeted back. “How did today go? It was first day with the deprogramer, right?”

Steve curled up on the sofa and tucked his feet under him. “It was okay. He’s a bit scary, but apparently he has a daughter Dustin’s age.”

“The butthead will be pissed he missed that,” Eddie chuckled.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed warmly. “She’s really pretty, too.”

“Don’t get me wrong, Suzie’s a great girl. But we all know here parents aren’t going to let her marry someone ‘outside the faith’ as it were.”

Steve chewed on his thumbnail. “Yeah. I was hoping with them both going home for the whole summer would break them up.”

Eddie scoffed. “It’s good thing talk and text is included in mobile plans these days unlike in early days of yore when mobile plans made you pay for every text message and long distance calling, otherwise their cell phone bills would be through the fucking roof.”

“Tell me about,” Steve huffed. “And he’s going to spending the last week of vacation in Utah with her.”

“Eeee,” Eddie said with a grimace, “is it bad of me that I hope her parents scare him off?”

“Maybe a little,” Steve admitted. “But I just want him to be happy, you know?”

Eddie let out a long drawn out sigh. “Yeah. So you guys got the contract all figured out?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Steve muttered. “It’s going to be hard being in the studio and taking EMT course to pretend to be medical personnel. Well not really pretending. Both me and one of the other band members have training. Me with being a lifeguard for awhile there and them with being an EMT. But it feels wrong somehow.”

“Is there something else, some other role you can fill?” Eddie asked after a moment or two of silence.

“Not according to Robin,” Steve groused. “She says it’ll be fine and no one will figure it out. And I trust her. Her plans have gotten us through two tours already, one even being overseas...”

“But you’re still worried because I’ll be on the road with you?” Eddie asked gently.

Steve threw his head back and groaned. “God that sounds so horrible of me.”

“Hey, hey,” Eddie admonished. “It’s not. It’s an extra variable you didn’t have to factor in before. But we will make it work.”

“I think the biggest part is that Eddie and Steve have to remain friends until after the tour so everyone doesn’t connect Steve with Abbadon,” he said. “God that sounded pretentious. Talking in third person like some Chad.”

Eddie giggled. “Maybe a little, but I got what you mean.”

“Don’t laugh!” Steve whined. “My dick is going to fall off from the sheer amount of blue balling that’s going to be happening on this fucking tour. Well not fucking actually. I’m going to be in hell!”

“And people tell me I’m dramatic,” Eddie said laughing out loud. “What do you normally do on tour?”

Steve sat up and stretched his feet out in front of him on the sofa. “It’s complicated.”

Eddie snorted. “I don’t doubt that, sweetheart. Are we talking NDAs or fucking with the masks on?”

Steve laughed. “It’s more like no phones, dark room, no staying the night. That sort of thing.”

“I’m betting there aren’t many that agree to that.”

“More than you’d think,” Steve snorted. “Groupies gotta fuck.”

“We’ll figure something out. I won’t let those pretty balls go blue,” Eddie said with a snicker.

“Help me, Eddie-wan Kenobi, you’re my only hope!” Steve cried in a sharp falsetto.

Eddie laughed. “You’re a menace, Steve Harrington.”

“And you love it.”

Warmth just flooded Eddie’s tone when he replied, “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Eds.”

****

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#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #rockstar steve harrington #rockstar eddie munson #rockstar au

[prince-kallisto]

Dire Crowley and The Magician Tarot

🧎Someone connected the countdown art to the tarot cards, and I feel like this had to be purposeful because all the characters match up so well!!!! Please check out this awesome thread for the other characters BUT IM LOSING MY MIND WITH CROWLEY BEING THE MAGICIAN AHCCHHXDHHD YANAAAAAAA

Also if anyone is interested in me making this an series of analyzing the TWST characters with their hypothesized tarot card, let me know! \(//∇//)\

The Magician was first conceived as a swindler or a “sleight of hand” artist. He was all about stage magic and putting up performances and false appearances before becoming the Magician well known today. The Magician heavily represents the concepts of unlimited power and potential and the “unification of the physical and spiritual worlds.”

The Magician is a fascinating tarot card, particularly with its imagery in the Rider-Waite series. Tarot cards have been interpreted many ways throughout history- I’d like to point out that Aleister Crowley, who is believed to be the name inspiration behind Dire Crowley, made his own tarot deck: the “Thoth Tarot.” I’d like to analyze Aleister Crowley and his potential relation to Dire Crowley someday too. But Rider-Waite continues to be the most popular tarot deck in regards to its art. And I find the Magician’s imagery to be VERY foreboding if it really does match up to Crowley.

In the card, The Magician has a cup, a sword, a wand, and pentacle, representing all four suits of the Minor Arcana. In the French suit, these four suits are represented by the clubs, diamonds, hearts, and spades. Interesting considering Heartslabyul exists…these four objects are also reprentative of fire, air, water, and earth. Essentially, the Magician having these four items is representative of his power and his ability to do anything. Again, the implications of the Magician “wielding” all the suits is fascinating for Crowley.

Yes, anything! This is further symbolized by the infinity sign over his head, as the Magician heavily relates to the idea of “eternity” and “infinite possibilities.” Whatever the Magician IMAGINES, it can become real. See how one hand points to the sky and the other points to the ground? It is believed to be a reference to the phrase of “as above, so below,” which is an entire rabbit hole in itself to explain haha. In the Magician card, his pointing essentially means HE is the connection between the Universe above and the earth below. He connects imagination with reality, essentially a conduit. Like the card says, he is capable of anything as long as he can imagine it. Considering how we have different realms in TWST, particularly with Mickey in the mirror and Malleus’ dream world, the Magician being a connector between two worlds is. Interesting 👀 I also think CROWLEY being the one in charge of the Gates/Coffins in the prologue is significant- he may have been the one to summon Yuu into this world. He even says himself that the gates are a representation of your “former” and “new” world.

The eternity symbolism increased with the “belt” around his waist that’s actually a snake eating its own tail. I’ve made an analysis post long ago about NRC’s logo and it’s relation to the ourobous and the caduceus…which Hermes seems to relate to Levan and Meleanor as well.

Speaking of Hermes, the Magician card is related to the planet Mercury, which is the Roman form of the Greek God Hermes. Mercury/Hermes is the god of thieves, travelers, and diplomats. His staff has become a popular iconography for the idea of “health.” And under Mercury, it’s star signs are Virgo and Gemini. If any “Crowley and Levan are twins” theorists out there, there you go with Gemini 🤪 The star signs seem to further reference to “as above, so below,” as Gemini is an air sign while Virgo is an earth sign.

The garden of roses and lily of the valleys around the Magician is believed to be a reference to the Song of Solomon, a biblical song related to lovers. But the garden itself represents how the Magician “cultivates” his power. The Anthology cover depicts roses and thorns around Crowley…hmm. I’d like to add that Crowley is very particular about the apple trees in NRCs courtyard- he takes great pride in them and they are in honor of the Fairest Queen.

Edit: I’d like to add he also refers to the students as “eggs” or “chicks,” and even says himself that he “raised” Malleus into the powerful mage he is today- LIKE HES LITERALLY CULTIVATING THEM. And if he’s behind the Overblots, he’s also cultivating the Overblot stones

The Magician’s white outfit is commonly believed to represent the Magician’s purity, while the red cape represents knowledge, egotism, and revenge- a mixture of the upright and reverse symbolism for the Magician.

And with a quick look at numerology, the number one has always been an iconic symbol for new beginnings. However, the Magician is also connected to the number eight, due to the infinity sign above his head. Again, this is a symbol of eternity- some religious scholars have connected the Magician to the Holy Spirit, which intrigued me because I’ve been on a quest to analyze TWSTs religious symbolism haha.

But I’m sure most of you are more interested in what the Magician actually MEANS in terms of divination, aka the Upright and Reversed meanings. After covering the imagery of this card, you can see how the meanings of this cards is heavily reflected in its art.

When the Magician is upright, it represents desire, willpower, manifestation, and resourcefulness. It is heavily connected with the Fool card (in TWST tarot, the Fool aka 0 would represent MC/Yuu) because while the Fool is a blank slate with potential, the Magician takes that potential and “manifests” it into reality. INTERESTING 👀

However, when reversed, the Magician represents manipulation, cunning, trickery, illusion, and deceptions. The Magician wields his unlimited power to become a trickster for his own selfish means, pretending to have your interests at heart. It feels like a bit of a callback to the Magician originated as the Swindler, who was all about false appearances to trick people. In case y’all haven’t noticed, that’s kinda Crowley’s entire shtick 🤪🤪 He (poorly) pretends to have Yuu’s interests in heart, especially about finding them a way home or getting them food or shelter.

Many diviners have interpreted this card as an obsession with power that will lead to your downfall.

What’s interesting about Crowley’s countdown art is that he’s the only character to be in black and white- everyone else has a pop of color. Additionally, he has a shining white background instead of a matte black. Is this meant to represent that this Crowley art represents him as Reversed? His color scheme and background is quite literally “reversed” from the other characters, so perhaps this countdown art is foreshadowing Crowley’s role in the main story.

The sheer amount of symbolism of power in both the card art and its Upright and Reversed meaning is interesting. Because right now in the main story, Crowley is in this weird position where he DOES have this “unlimited potential.” He can potentially be the most powerful villain Twisted Wonderland has ever seen- and even if he isn’t, the Magician overall has a lot of control and connection between “two worlds.”

Additionally, the emphasis on the Magician’s potential and imagination is really fascinating because CROWLEY himself is the one who speaks about imagination being the source of magic. And if this is something he can apply himself, he would quite literally be like the Magician who can manifest things into reality.

The other TWST boys connect a lot more directly with their tarot card number, but Crowley’s feels like speculation at best. However, as a Crowley theorist, I genuinely feel like this is purposeful foreshadowing, especially considering how Crowley’s art differs from everybody else….

#‘interesting’ was basically my favorite word for this post LMAOO #twisted wonderland #twst #twst theory #twst dire Crowley #twst Crowley #dire Crowley #twst analysis #kallistopost

[officialgleamstar]

sparrow & normal, s02e06, and mother-daughter relationships

dungeons and daddies, s02e06: dance dance revelations 2ndmix link version | a breath of life by clarice lispector | are you still hungry, mother? by hannah green | the cradle by berthe morisot (cropped) | frau mit totem kind by käthe kollwitz | the sun is also a star by nicola yoon | the whale rider by witi ihimaera | bethany webster | lady bird (2017) | i put the coffin out to sea by lisa marie basile | please look after mom by kyung-sook shin | witch by rebecca tamás | poplar street by chen chen | candles by daughter | nature poem by chen chen | unknown | mirror traps by hera lindsay bird | georges bataille | turtles all the way down by john green | supernatural

#dungeons and daddies #dndads #sparrow oak garcia #normal swallows oak garcia #web weaving #mine #NOTE: this is mostly from normal's perspective so naturally sparrow doesnt look great #but if you are excessively rude or weird about sparrow in the tags/replies i will block you. thats my boygirlfriend. thank u! #sourcing a dndads episode title while trying to be serious... clown car behavior #okay to tag with blorbos besides normal and sparrow btw they just haunt me

[infinite-hearts-333]

Alrighty. We are doing this cause I have zero self control over my hyperfixations. Ugh. LETS GO SPELLCASTER AU-

Meet Tay Bridgeback!

Tay was born from a one witch family, so their dad, is in fact a hooman. Despite this, Tay was raised around magic pretty much their entire life, so they are rather used to it. It was a big thing for their family on whether Tay should go to the school due to two things- they were an Australian family- that lived in Australia, so they were not near the school. And Tay, has autism, so sending them so far away with no one they knew was.. well, daunting for all of them. But when Tay’s powers manifested and they had little to no control over it, that was the nail in the coffin for them. They wanted to go despite how scary it was- because the option of having haywire powers is scarier.

Tay’s mum had gone to the school and knew some of the staff from when she left, so that’s why they didn’t pick another in Australia. So Tay was stuck on a plane and shipped off to the school :>

Over all emotional wise; Tay is more like Cartoon Oura thorn, who as well is hinted at to have the tism. (Space rider! Oura thorn is the only one that doesn’t!!) They are naturally shy, and between sucking at social interaction and them being nearly practically deaf, they simple don’t speak. Kinda like space rider catnap! They can, but they prefer not to.

However, the same can not be said when they are using their powers.

See to Tay (and myself haha) a costume comes with a character. And well, that character doesn’t have to be you, does it? Playing a character is like the opposite of masking- you can be as wild or excited as you want because you’re playing a role! So no one is ready when this quiet as Aussie suddenly is a confidence powerhouse when they use their magic lol.

Lil thorn is more bubbly, a true insight to how Tay feels, but rarely shows due to anxiety and masking :> they can be quite affectionate and cheeky!! But they prefer to ensure their human is doin okay, cause this whole school thing can be a lot more on their emotional battery than they show.

Also a lil thing with Andri and Miguel lol NO I DIDNT MAKE THEM TO FLIRT WITH NORTH. >:((( I can control myself grrrrr

Both of them have no idea how long Tay spend hunting for a clover to show them lmao. I’m projecting far to much haha- ‘hello, have a gift pleas like me’

Andri in the blue belongs to @north-heats-stronghold

Miguel in the yellow belongs to @novalizinpeace

The spellcaster au belongs to @onyxonline

#♾ art #my art #oc #smiling critters oc #oura thorn #smiling critters #spellcaster au #spellcaster! Oura Thorn #Tay Bridgeback

[quibbs126]

So instead of more stylized Cookies, I drew that cacaolily redo yesterday (I just forgot about posting)

Anyways, so this is Night Rider. She’s replacing my old cacaolily kid, Snowdrop, because I thought I could do better (and frankly, Snowdrop didn’t have a personality outside of being a White Lily clone). So Snowdrop doesn’t exist anymore, and Night Rider replaces her

In any case, let’s get on to Night Rider herself

So basically, Night Rider here goes around Earthbread, seeking out and learning secret, ancient or forbidden knowledge/magic. She ultimately has good intentions in her research, she probably started by trying to look for a way to ultimately stop the Licorice Sea, or maybe to revive Pure Vanilla, but she can get carried away with her research and not think about the consequences of it (which I sort of tried to imply with the sketch, she’s trying to bring the Soul Jam to its fullest potential, but in the process awakening the Beasts). She’s been doing this for several decades and she really only visits her home sparingly; she’s gained a really poor sense of time and always thinks it’s been less time than it actually has

Outside of that, she’s a very cranky and antisocial person. Her decades of mostly isolated research have led her to view other Cookies as either not being able to appreciate the knowledge she yearns for, or that they ask dumb questions about her research. She respects and tolerates her father and the other Ancients (her mother disappeared when she was young, so she doesn’t really have a connection to her or opinions about her), even if she thinks they can fall into those categories. She can actually like people, and she can act like a decent person around them (or if she has to), but it’s pretty rare. She probably wasn’t always like this, it’s just something she built up over the years

Her research means she’s probably way ahead of all the other characters on the plot, like she’s known about the Beasts and faeries for years, but due to her general isolation and always looking for new knowledge, she’s woefully unknowing (that’s not the right word) of what’s going on in Earthbread right now. Like she doesn’t know Pure Vanilla’s back, her mother’s connection to Dark Enchantress, or even that her brother was banished in the first place

She likes her father well enough, she was mostly raised by him and she respects him, even if they value different things. She doesn’t see him as much due to her research, but she doesn’t see it as meaning she has any less connection to him. As said prior, since White Lily disappeared when she would have been young, she doesn’t really know her mother and isn’t sure what to think of her (though if she’s been to Faeriewood, she would have chosen to avoid White Lily’s coffin). Due to her nature of spending so much time away from home, she and Dark Choco barely know each other, but she thinks he’s fine enough. She thinks he’s just following in their father’s footsteps and being a good swordsman and prince back home, nothing out of the ordinary to note. She probably would have a reaction to knowing this isn’t the case

I’m also thinking she uses some sort of shadow magic, in part because of her research (and also because of her name)

I do kind of want to draw a younger version of Night Rider as well, before she started on her endless search for knowledge, since back then she was probably more normal

Can you tell I’ve thought way too much about her? Because I have

Anyways, let’s get on to other stuff

The name Night Rider comes from the night rider lily, since it’s a black flower

Night rider:

So if you can tell, she doesn’t look too much like her concept sketch. That’s because originally when I was making that, she was supposed to be a guy who was a knight that lived out in nature, or something like that. The original Night Rider concept was completely different. But then when I was listening to Unleash the Magic yesterday, it got me inspired to make this new version of Night Rider. If I ever bring that concept back, it’d probably be like her twin brother or something

Anyways, so I made her hair have gradients instead of streaks because I thought it worked better with her colors of red and black. Also Dark Choco sort of has that. Speaking of the red, it’s supposed to be because of the flower, even if the red doesn’t necessarily fit in with the rest of the family’s color scheme

Speaking of colors, my roommate told me she might have too many colors, which is honestly fair. She’s got black, red, purple and green in her design. It was originally going to be black red and purple, but then I wanted a pop of another color for her bag, so I added in the green. Maybe I’ll go back and tweak her colors more. If this becomes no longer applicable to her design, know that I changed it

I realize that her outfit may look a bit odd, as like some sort of bodysuit or whatever, but it was kind of just what came to my head. Maybe it’s some sort of special suit she got during her travels

Her design is probably simplistic, but it’s not necessarily bad. But I may want to tweak it a bit later on, we’ll see

But yeah, that’s Night Rider, hope you like her

#speaking of stylized cookies I kind of want to make the fankids in the stylized way as well #I specifically want to draw Night Rider and Vanilla Lily together #since they’ve got some issues and they’re both Lily kids #I just need an elderlily kid with issues to complete the trio #anyways #cookie run #cookie run kingdom #fankid #fanchild #dark cacao cookie #white lily cookie #cacaolily #cookie run oc #night rider cookie #snowdrop cookie #my ocs #my art

[rosewaterandivy]

Live from New York…

Summary: a meet cute for everyone’s favorite rockstar!eddie and head SNL writer/weekend update anchor gf

WC: 4204 🫠 (my hand slipped)

Pairing: rockstar!eddie x screenwriter!gf

Warning/Themes: work related stress, smitten Eddie, hectic SNL schedule built around cocaine, meddling actor!steve harrington, encounters in close quarters, Eddie wearing Le Labo Santal 33– which should be a warning all its own, my usual brand of filth™️

A/N: we’ve had our meet cute with actor!steve, now it’s Eddie’s turn!

Series masterlist | playlist | currently spinning:

At Studio 8H, you always hit the ground running on Mondays. Hopefully, you’d lazed away or slept off the hangover from the after-party on Sunday, but sometimes you weren’t so lucky.

Today was one of those days.

A subway ride from hell, you were pretty sure your bodega guy was mad at you (again), and the inevitable spins and mouth sweats which could only mean—

“Hey killer!” Pete greets, towing the week’s host and musical guest behind him.

And because this situation could only get worse, you hold up a solitary finger and duck into a nearby dressing room to puke and rally.

“Fuckin’ Mondays, am I right?”

A rich voice greets you as you make your entrance back into the hallway, someone wearing a panoply of rings shoves a cold water bottle in your hand while you push your sunglasses up the bridge of your nose.

“Y’alright there, boss?”

A nod as you guzzle some water.

“Just peachy, Davidson.” You heave a sigh, grimacing as you make eye contact with the host, Steve Harrington, and one fifth of the musical guest in the form of Eddie Munson. “Sorry for the uh—" you gesture vaguely to the dressing room.

“No worries,” Steve says with a smile, “We’ve all been there.”

Eddie, for his part, snorts a laugh.

“Charmed,” you chirp, readjusting your canvas tote on your shoulder and resuming your walk down the hall.

“Pitch meeting in 5!”

_

The Monday meeting was always a wash. Pitches that were half-formed or outright veto’d by Lorne or the host, and Pete giving the same pitch for the fourth month running that no one bit at.

Typical.

Steve was affable enough, charming in the way only an actor could be, easy to laugh and joke. Eddie Munson, however, was all long-limbed ease and looked at you in a way that was unnerving.

No matter. You didn’t have the time to contemplate why the frontman of Corroded Coffin irked you, not when the cast members were especially needy for your attention and the writers retreated to the conference room.

“Chloe,” you huff as the small blonde trails after you, mouth going a mile a minute about a new impression she’d perfected.

You stopped short at your office door, causing Chloe to bump into you. With a slow turn, you try to smile in a well-meaning way, sunglasses sliding down your nose again.

“Can this wait until later?” Your hand twists the handle, allowing you to slip inside the room and escape the sad fall of her face. “I promise you’ll have my undivided attention this afternoon, okay?”

That seems to perk her back up. She gives you a smile and salute before trotting off back to her dressing room.

You sigh and slide back against the closed door, eyes slipping shut for the briefest of moments. Not open long enough to clock a mop of brown curls lazing on your couch.

“Exhausting being on top, isn’t it?”

Your eyes open only to land on Eddie Munson, laid out on your couch as if he owns the place.

“How did you get in here?”

You cross to the desk, heaving your tote onto it and peel the glasses from your face. Falling into your chair, you await his reply and open up your laptop.

Rooting around in your tote for your notes, you notice a coffee cup and danish at his side.

“Is that my cherry danish and cold brew?”

“Hmm?” He turns toward the sound of your voice. “Oh, this? An intern dropped it off.”

Eyeing the bite taken out of the danish, you sigh. “And you just assumed it was for you?”

“It’s not?”

“Unless Corroded’s rider has something about cherry danishes on it—“

“I just thought since your little performance this morning, you wouldn’t be in the mood.”

He sits up with a stretch, arms rising above his head, a sliver of skin visible above the band of his boxer-briefs.

Calvin’s, of fucking course.

You repress the need to roll your eyes. “How kind,” you say instead, flipping through your notes and typing a few ideas down.

“I thought so.” Eddie stands up, depositing the danish and coffee on your desk. “I’m more of a bagel and lox guy myself.”

“I’ll alert the media.”

He smiles slow, which is more attractive than you’d bargained for, annoyingly enough. His teeth are perfect against the plush pink of his lips, and he’s close enough, leaning against your desk, that you can smell the faint scent of his cologne— wood, leather, and violet?— cut through with a faint aroma of tobacco.

“I only have your best interests at heart, sugar.”

_

By Thursday, things started to even out. Some solid pitches turned into sketches, bumpers filmed and canned, and one only one sex dream about Eddie Munson.

You’d take what you could get.

It was basically inevitable, that fucker has been annoying you all week— popping into your office uninvited, sending the interns out for inane tasks just to get you alone, and, the real kicker, sending Harrington in as reinforcements.

“He’s not a bad guy,” Steve says, taking another bite of his lunch— subs from the Teamsters, your favorite day of the week.

“Munson?”

“Yeah,” he laughs, having made out your garbled phrase. “Ed just comes on strong, but he’s harmless.”

You roughly swallow and take a sip form your drink. “Whaddya mean?”

Steve pauses, sandwich halfway to his mouth. “Oh, uh,” he shrugs, “He likes you. Was that not obvious?”

You stare at him blankly.

Eddie Munson, attracted to you?

Yeah, when hell freezes over.

“He’s just razzing me,” you say, more to yourself than Steve.

He drops his sub on the wax paper and wipes his mouth with a napkin.

“That’s what you think?!”

“Well—" you sputter, indignantly. “If that’s how he shows his interest…”

Steve laughs, a bright and delightful thing. If only it wasn’t at your expense.

“Oh my god,” he wheezes. “Robin’ll get a kick outta this— holy shit.”

He pulls out his phone and sends off a text. The next thing you know, his assistant is barreling through your office door.

“You’re shitting me,” is what she says, eyes cutting from him to you. Communicating in some secret language of eye contact and gestures that was wholly beyond you.

That lunch was the last semblance of peace you’d had for the week before Eddie Munson began wooing you with increased vigor.

_

By Saturday, you’d had just about enough of his nonsense. More flowers than you knew what to do with, mini fridge in your office stocked with all your favorites, the writers actually doing their jobs for once— which was honestly just creepy, but you’d allow it.

“What did he do?”

It was the final read-through before the dress rehearsal later that evening. The writer’s room was packed, and no one had tried to kill anyone else yet.

Truly bizarre.

“What did who do?”

“Cut the shit,” You grouse back. “Munson, what did he do, threaten you idiots? Promise backstage passes— what?”

A hang-dog new hire sighed. “Said he’d have our guts for garters if we fucked up your week.”

“Yeah,” someone else chorused. “Said we’d wish all those Satanic rumors were true once he was done with us.”

And, as a result, no one had tried to steal your Emmy this week, you occasionally went home at a decent-ish hour, and no one had unnecessarily barricaded themselves in their dressing room.

Huh.

Maybe Harrington had a point.

Eddie Munson attracted to you? It’s more likely than you think!

The thought eluded you through the dress rehearsal and show itself, but reared its ugly head at the after-party.

A successful show, a compliment from Lorne, and several drinks had you feeling warm and buzzy. Harrington had wrangled you up on a table when “Teenage Dirtbag” came on, assured you it would be fine dancing on tabletops in high-heeled boots.

All was well and good until someone spilled a drink on said table and nearly sent you toppling to the floor.

Strong arms gripped your waist, settling you against a broad shoulder in a fireman’s carry.

“The fuck was that?!” crowed up at Steve, the music far too loud for you to make out his response, before you’re carried from the dance floor to the coat check room and placed back on your feet.

Right side up, Eddie looks flushed and concerned, checking your face and body for any signs of injury.

“You okay?”

Voice softer than you’re used to, not the gruff exterior or persona he plays into for the public. And, it’s nice. You’re just buzzed enough not to be horrified at the realization.

You laugh and press a finger into his heaving chest, “You like me, dontcha?”

Eddie laughs, dodging your gaze as his chin tucks into his chest. “Honestly?” He says after a beat, “You scare the shit outta me.”

“What,” you pout, “Little old me?”

Your finger idly traces nonsensical shapes against the black cotton of his shirt. He takes a breath, watching the trajectory of your hand.

“Not in a bad way,” he allows, eyes finally dragging back to you. All warm umber and hints of whisky. His hand touches yours, bringing an end to your wandering fingers.

Eddie swallows audibly and cocks his head to the side. “You’re just so…”

“Intense?”

There’s that slow smile again. He takes a step closer to you, hesitant as if he’s expecting you to push him away.

You don’t.

A shake of his head that frees a few strands from the low bun he’d dawned at curtain call. You brush your fingers against the soft curls and scruff of his jaw.

Eddie takes in a sharp breath, eyes closing minutely as his forehead rests against yours.

“You,” he breathes, voice low, “Are going to ruin me.”

Not a threat, but a promise.

A smile tugs at your lips. “Awfully presumptuous of you, Munson.”

“Call it a hunch, sweetheart.”

You close the distance between you with your lips. They slot into his with ease, your hand tangling itself into the curls at the nape of his neck.

He groans, something low from the cage in his chest and steps between your legs as your eyes fall shut. Your back hits the wall, his hand cradling your head, thumb rubbing idly along your scalp.

Eddie smells divine, and you’re not sure whether it’s the drinks or your own hormones that are to blame. But he tastes even better, the burn of whisky a comfort as his tongue sweeps across your bottom lip.

You open beneath him like a night-blooming flower, lips, and legs parting with ease. A wet click when you part, allowing you to take a shaky breath in. He moves along your jaw, soft lips sponging kisses there before lighting upon your neck.

“Fucking hell,” you groan, head rolling back against the wall behind you, earning a low laugh from him.

Everything feels amazing, your skin is buzzing at his attention, hands desperate to grab hold and never let go.

As his hips cant into your own, you can feel the hot, hard line of him. Your eyes flying open at the sensation and the thought that you may very well die getting dicked down by Eddie Munson in a coatroom.

But oh, what a way to go.

He’s on you again, lips and tongue eager for entry, before you can say anything stupid. Your mouth opens with a stuttered breath as Eddie slowly grinds against you.

He’s saying something, praises falling from his lips but you can’t possibly reply. Too wound up from arousal to be any sort of conversationalist. The pressure against your clothed heat is just right, and you’d like nothing more to get his pants off and ride Eddie to kingdom come.

That is until Steve Harrington barrels through the door.

“Oh shit,” he says, stifling a laugh. “My bad.”

He’s in and out in two seconds, but the mood is broken.

Eddie’s head rests against your shoulder while he catches his breath. You can feel the heat of his flush against your neck.

“So,” he begins, voice a low rasp. “I guess—"

“Your hotel is closer.”

He perks up at that, head rising from your shoulder with a quirked brow.

“Essex House, right?”

Eddie nods, picking up what you’re putting down. He scrambles for his phone, texting something before grabbing you by the hand and leading you out of the club and into the brisk New York night.

_

Falling back against the plush comforter, you drag Eddie down with you. Teeth clicking against each other in the effort. He huffs a laugh into your mouth, pushing you back against the pillows on the bed.

“You’re a pretty good kisser,” you say, propping up on your elbows.

“I may have heard that once or twice,” he says, tugging his shirt up and his head before tossing it elsewhere.

You make quick work of his jeans, while he occupies himself with mapping the geography of your body with his lips. He nips at your hip, earning a squeak of surprise from you as his arms cage you in.

His hair, now loose from the torment of your hands, tickles as it drags along your exposed skin. Eddie popping open the buttons of your blouse torturously slow.

Your lips claim his once more as his finger skims against the soft curve of your breast. You shudder at the sensation, unable to focus on anything except him.

Half-lidded eyes gaze down at you, a smirk tugging at his lips. With a roll of your eyes, you wiggle out of your shirt and pop the button of your trousers.

He’s quick to follow, fingers pulling at the fly and tugging the offending fabric from your legs.

The second the damp lace of your thong makes an appearance, Eddie groans loudly— head falling against your hip.

“Oh, my god.”

Too pent up to feel bashful, you tangle your fingers in his hair and give it a tug. Another groan, lower and deeper than the last.

“So pretty,” he breathes against your heat causing you to shiver.

His fingers hook into the fabric and pull them down the plush of your thighs, lips skating across the sensitive skin as he goes. Eddie is back on you before you can sit up to take off your bra; tugging you up to settle on his lap while reaching around to expertly unhook the lacy garment.

Distracting you with a kiss, it takes you a minute to realize that Eddie has apparently been struck stupid at the sight of you bare before him. His eyes rove over what feels like every inch of your body, as if he could never get enough.

“Hey,” you prompt with a roll of your hips. It’s delicious and delightful, sending sparks straight to your core. A soft sigh before you continue, “How do you want me?”

That seems to wake him back up. Eddie shakes himself alive and says with a bite to your lips, “As many times as I can have you, sweetheart.”

He lays you gently back down and grabs a condom from the bedside table. Before you can offer your assistance, however, he’s back between your legs with a singular focus: making you come. Hard and frequent.

By the time you reach your peak for the second time, he’s three knuckles deep and two fingers in. Your babbling incoherently while he smirks up at you, occasional coos of “Doin so well f’me” and “You can take another, right sugar?”

You nod, impatient for your next orgasm. Who would’ve thought that Eddie Munson could turn you into a needy brat without even seeing his dick?

Certainly not you.

“Eddie,” a broken pathetic whine from you. He’s worked in a third finger, impossibly, and you’re about to explode.

Pulling his lips from you clit, he glances up, lips and chin wet with your slick. “Yeah?”

The lighting in the room is low and warm, only enhancing his features, eyes blown dark with lust and lips ruddied and swollen from licking and kissing.

Another whine as you make grabby hands at him, “Wanna come on your cock.”

He chuckles lowly, sponging a kiss at your hip. “That so?”

You nod dumbly and wet your lips.

He rubs along your g-spot and your eyes roll back into your skull.

“Hmm,” he hums, “Why don’t you come on my fingers again and then you can make a mess on my cock?”

Not the answer you wanted to hear, but you’re too far gone to care. A petulant pout on your lips, but before you can make your retort, Eddie does that magical thing with his fingers again making you keen as you come.

Your vision whites out briefly, walls shuddering at his ministrations wetly.

“There’s a good girl,” he says, voice silky and low. “Knew you could do it.”

Damp fingers grasp your chin before prodding at your lips. You open your mouth to suck at them, tongue grazing against the cool silver of his rings as he watches.

Faintly, you hear the tearing of the condom wrapper as he extricated his hand from your mouth. Calvin’s long gone now, Eddie fists his cock to roll the condom down his shaft. And you can’t seem to pick your jaw up from the floor.

He looks almost nervous, brows furrowed and biting his lip. You can see why— he’s got the biggest and prettiest dick you’d ever seen. Cockhead flushed a rosy pink as he strokes himself, and you're not the best at spatial awareness but there are definitely several inches of him to reckon with.

“Hey,” you say with a swallow, mouth having filled with saliva at the sight of him. A jerk of your head, “C’mere, honey.”

With a smile, he returns to you. Kisses laved to your chest, neck, and finally lips while he situates himself against your petaled heat. Bumping against your abused clit, you sink back into the pillows with a moan.

Hands loosely cradling his collar and legs wound high against his back, you pull Eddie down for a slow kiss as your rock up against his shaft. He licks messily into your mouth as one of your hands snakes down to guide him inside.

He shudders at the sensation and the visual of your hand on his dick, small and dainty in comparison. “Fuckin’ hell.”

You hum contentedly. “You ain’t seen nothin' yet,” and drive the message home with a buck of your hips. His cockhead slips in, stretching you slightly but not unpleasantly.

He pauses, not wanting to hurt you or go too quickly just for it to happen again— too big, can’t fit. Surprisingly, you shimmy working him further into your cunt, inch by inch, until he’s buried to the hilt.

Eddie thinks he’s going to die like this— bottoming out in the girl of his dreams, all before he can blow his load or get you off like he wants to.

The stretch is good— hitting depths you didn’t realize were possible until now. Making your own efforts with the aid of your fingers and toys appear pathetic. You could vibrate out if you skin at the sensation— keyed up and pulled taught before he’s even had the chance to move yet.

You clench at the thought, causing Eddie to pant and moan against your neck. His left hand taps at your right leg.

“Can you raise that up, just a little?”

You acquiesce, and he thrusts experimentally. The angle changes everything, causing your blood to thrum and punching the breath from your lungs. Right leg wrapped around his waist while the other rests lazily against his hips.

Eddie kisses you quick, tongue eager as he works you open. You can hear the smack of his skin against yours, both damp with the exertion, accompanied by a sound and sensation wholly unfamiliar to you.

There’s a wet squelch when he bottoms out every other thrust or so, and the coil in your gut gets pulled tighter and tighter. Heat and pressure are building in your cunt and radiating outwards.

You jolt upwards, breasts brushing against his chest, nipples hardening in the cool air. “Eddie I’m—" your voice catches in your throat, a tear falling from your eyes and cascading down your cheek.

Before he can see your unintended emotional display, you bury your face into the curve of his neck with a gasp. His hips stutter as you draw closer, neck growing damp with your tears.

“Shit. Did I—"

You quiet his concerns with a shake of your head, “No baby, I’m good. Keep going.” And with a languid roll of your hips, you seal the deal.

Eddie’s thrusts slow, the angle forcing his pelvis to tilt and drag exquisitely against your clit. Your head drops back against the pillows. He licks his lips and watches your mouth fall open with interest. He loves the way your eyes can’t seem to focus, the way your tongue lies heavy in your mouth, the way you try to hide from your pleasure, but he knows you’re excited.

Your next orgasm crashes upon you like a tidal wave, walls fluttering like the wings of a frantic hummingbird. You nearly scream from the pleasure of it all, mingled with a pinch of pain as a gushing soak drenches the both of you.

Your body jerks forward, pinned by Eddie’s hips and the cage of his arms holding you close. You can feel him moving inside you in long strokes before he stills to let you ride it out.

“That’s never happened before,” you slur out.

“Yeah?” He smirks, resuming his thrusts, pace nearly brutal now— diving into you so fast and hard that your eyes well up with tears. It doesn’t feel like you’ll reach the peak again, feels like you’ve been on the cusp since the coat room.

Your brain is fried and completely blissed out— fucked stupid by a rockstar you'd known for a week. You can only gasp in clipped short breaths as the air is continuously punched from your lungs.

Eddie bites his lip, eyes fixed on the way his cock spreads your cunt. The way your pussy is glistening and cherry red from his ministrations.

“Wish you could see yourself,” he groans out. “Such a good girl, takin’ all of me.”

Eddie could be talking gibberish and you would still nod along, falling apart as you stutter and plead, begging for him. I want it. I want it. Iwantitiwantitineedit. I need you.

A few more strokes and Eddie comes hard, thick ropes of come released into the condom, shuddering against the clenching of your walls— tight and wet and hot. Your name falls from his lips in a broken moan causing you to break open, crying out pitifully and throwing your head back against the pillows.

And, god damn, he’s just so pretty. All pink lips and pupils blown wide, chest heaving with desperate breaths before he collapses on top of you.

You feel positively ruined for other men. It’s unbelievable, the way he’s seared his touch into your body and brain. And yeah, if you had a soul or whatever, probably that too.

It may not be the most orgasms you’d ever had, but it’s damn near close and certainly the most intense yet. Your body trembles against Eddie’s torso, while he sucks on your neck, murmuring praises into your ear. Calls you sweetheart, baby, good fucking girl. Keeps himself inside, nestled comfortably deep.

You’re likely to faint if he doesn’t stop— intense whispers, slow movements, and rubbing sweetly against your walls. Eddie drags another orgasm out of you, miraculously so, almost letting you forget how torn open he’s made you feel. Your toes curl and go limp again for what feels like the umpteenth time, plaint against him as you catch your breath.

He lands a soft, barely-there kiss against the lobe of your ear and wipes the sweat from your neck and brow away.

“You okay?” He asks in a whisper, sending chills down your spine. “You got a little—"

“Overstimulated, yeah,” you answer with a laugh. Your arms drape around his collar lazily. “I’m good,” you say with a smile, “Never better.”

“Yeah?” Eddie’s smile is a bright bashful thing. He ducks his head, like he can’t believe you’re real, and bites his lip.

“Gonna be pretty useless for the next couple of hours though.”

He glances back up at you. “Really?”

“Totally.” Your fingers card into his hair, working against his scalp. “This guy fucked me stupid and now I can’t feel my legs so.”

He laughs, the vibrations reverberating against your ribs before rolling off of you to discard the condom. His hand finds yours again in the near-dark, cool metal against the damp of your palm.

You lay beneath the fluffy duvet, facing Eddie. Your legs were entwined with his and he has a big, stupid grin on his face. You were sure your smile matched his own.

A phone trills into the still of the room, Eddie groans in frustration and grapples with finding it on the nightstand. He answers it with a huff of annoyance as Steve Harrington's voice cascades through the speaker.

“So…” he sings, the street noise of the city serving as background, “You guys fuckin’ or what?”

_

#modern!rockstar!eddie #rockstar!eddie x reader #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson smut #stranger things fan fiction #rockstar!eddie x you #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie smut #modern!au #Spotify

[gryphis-eyes]

⊙ ἀγάπη

" Unable to perceive the shape of You, I find You all around me. Your presence fills my eyes with Your love, It humbles my heart, For You are everywhere. "

⊙ Welcome to this Shape of Water love reading, yes I finaly took my balls and make a love pac hehehe this reading isn’t truly a prediction its more of an assumption about what your ideal partner would be based on your present self but you can technically see this reading as a way to confirm who your next partner would be y’know. It was supposed to be longer but I decided to do it chill since im still a bit rusted lol but I really miss being active on tumblr. For more explaination, the ”core card” is found by additioning the numbers of the cards you picked with Lenormand, for me its a card that show the core/hidden part of a reading but you can use this method in other ways.

◇ Deck used : Rider Waite (only court cards), Lenormand

Masterlist ⊙

 

🜄 Pile 1  

♤ Key, book, ship 【core : coffin】

Court card : king of cups

They seem like someone who’s heart and mind are often clashing but despite it they are quite emotional intelligent, by this I mean that they might be very emotional by nature but they did learn to manage their emotions OR they take an intellectual approach to their feelings, is it a good thing or not ? Well its up to them because this kind of behavior can become toxic for themselves but i got a lot of cards who refer to them being very intelligent. They probably follow a specific philosophy or are into litterature in general, there is this dark academia vibe to them. Very hardworking, full of knowledge but never got enough at the same time, they got bof ”personal intelligence” and academic intelligence, talking to them about various subject must be a great experience for sure. Their intelligence and serious aspect make them quite sensual people might often look at them even if they dont seem to care about other’s look they seem introverted to me. Its like if someone stopped them to compliments them they would be a bit awkward like ”uh? Thank you I guess?”. Very INTP vibe. To be honest I was persuaded that I'll pick the King of Swords to them because of their vibe but not, its the King of cups with the Coffin as the core card so we got someone who have a cold exterior and keep their good side to themselves and to a very close group of people. They have been through tuff situation in their life, would I dare say that they might have experienced depression ? I see them as a melancholic King of cups, imagine an King alone on a cliff looking at the sea, so many thoughts are passing by from a strange theory about a myth to a sad realisation that they are indeed, a hopeless lover. Seems like someone needs to go under that shell to see their true self and heart (but not in a savior way, y’know).

🜄 Pile 2  

♤ Mouse, whip, house, 【core ; whip】

Court card : queen of pentacles

Your ideal partner seem to be... interesting for sure, when I took the first cards I was a bit worried but the last one put the pieces togheter. Basically you got someone who ready to risk it all just to have a quiet and comfy life in their house (the house can also symbolise your relationship), listen to Faith from Karen Aoki the lyrics match them but most importantly for the one who get the reference from where the song come from you might understand the reading in a quite twisted way haha. The character who’s listening to this song is a pretty bad person with a very clean and kind exterior. Of course im not saying that your ideal partner is 100% this character but they remind me of him because he goes as far as killing people to have his quiet life but your reading is LESS extreme haha it just reminded me of him a lot in a softer way. Your ideal partner might even had broken many hearts because they know what they worth and what they want in life and in love, probably even in work and we got an other hopeless lover. They are so focused on perfection that sadly, they became pessimistic wether its because things are too slow, they are faaar from their ideal life or just sometimes they ask themselves if they are good enough or ask for too much in the end but it doesn’t last long since they will quickly get a reminder to not make the bar lower. However when they finally get something wether its a person an animal or an object they take extremely good care of ”it” they are very nurturing and caring, probably got a sweet voice (and touch ?). Once they settle its for the long run, I get something  that they might need a reminder of not being too possessive with their partner because of course a partner is an other human being you can’t predict everything they would do, its the sad truth even the most loving wife can turn into a backstaber (that’s an exemple of course) they are probably terrified of the idea of being cheated on. Especially since they seek their ideal life it probably attract people with the intention to take and disappear. They need a big hug if you want my opinion they probably got some hard time with family and people while growing up. They need love and they know it.

🜄 Pile 3

♤ Sun, cross, Fox, 【core ; bouquet】

Court card ; King of wands

Alright you got the incarnation of the sun here, a golden person ! Very charismatic (and they know it) they make the room light up and when they smile the world is illuminated (I'll stop give it to their ego now). Your ideal partner’s personality remind me of Giorno from jjba. The big light of the sun is balanced by the cross and the fox who add some shade in a good way. Life have been hard on them and so they had to be a fox to survive, sneak their way into situation maybe even got to have jobs that they hated just to get enough money to escape their nasty place. Despite still having a hard time in life they keep up and seem to be always in all of their glory, they are a true born leader and dont mess around. I think if you try to trick them you'll fall from high ground since they are used to hardship nothing can stop them and their heart of gold will always feed their inner flame ! Like the sun they shine bright but alone, despite being great leaders they also do well alone and seem to value those hermit period. People might always say that they are about to fail or that their situation look doomed but you know what ? Even if its need to have some failed attempt they always end up wining,  like I said they are very determined and probably stubborn about their goal. Its someone that you can trust. They got the vibe of the movie Fantastic Mr.Fox, maybe they put a lot of effort into being impressive for ”the public”? Like if someone tell them they can’t do something they will be like ”oh really?” and end up doing this thing better than necessary. Its nice, its amazing but they need some rest and to stop feeling the need to show off all the time haha they know their limit and their worth so they know how to chose their battles, simply because of those things it look like they are always wining.

#tumblr did everything in its power to stop me from posting it #pick a card #gryphis #pick a pile #love pick a card #ideal partner

[topguncortez]

What To Expect | Ch 8| A Jake Seresin Fic

Previous Part | Masterlist | Next Part word count: 3.3k synopsis: "Exes can have a baby, right?", a story in which Jake finds himself having a baby with the one person who can't even stand the sight of him. Slow burn, exes to lovers. warnings: pregnancy, cursing, mentions of infidelity, details of a mission gone wrong, death, PTSD, mentions of the Uranium Mission, tears, unrequited love, Braxton hicks, fear, Jake finally grows a pair, Bradley tho. . .

Jake didn’t expect to answer the door and see his ex-girlfriend in tears. But you stood on his doorstep, cheeks with pink tear streaks on them. You didn’t even say anything but Jake felt his heart break in his chest. 

“You lied?” You gulped and Jake hung his head in shame, “Why?” The second question was barely above a whisper. 

“I wish I could tell you,” Jake answered honestly. 

“Did you not want to be with me? D-did you fall out of-” 

“No, baby,” Jake stepped out of his house and grabbed your hands. He sighed and gently led you to the porch swing. He remembered all those nights where you’d lay in the backyard at your tiny base house in Lemoore, and tell him about the big country house that you wanted to have with Jake. You had fallen in love with Ally’s house in the ‘Notebook’ and wanted one just like it. So when Jake found his house here in San Diego, he made sure it had at least a porch swing. 

You still held his hand as you sat down next to him. You sniffled and placed your free hand on your belly, feeling your baby girl bouncing around. Doctor Miller said sometimes babies can feel your emotions, and you were starting to think she could feel that you were upset. 

Jake sucked in a breath and looked at you, “I didn’t tell you everything that happened on the Uranium Mission.” 

“I don’t want to-” 

“No, you need to know,” Jake said. You nodded and let him talk, “Rooster and Maverick got shot down while trying to escape coffin corner.” 

You knew bits and pieces of the mission from your father, Maverick, Rooster and Jake. Of course they couldn’t tell you everything because it was classified. But you had learned over the years where your dad kept his classified paperwork. And then Ice got smart and started making two copies, and blacking out any really important information. Jake had explained that “Coffin Corner” was where the true test of the mission would be. Bradley had explained the cuts and bruises on his body and told you that he had to eject and that he was happy to have made it home alive. 

“Somehow, when we sent off the tomahawks, they missed one of the enemy's jets. Maverick spotted it and he and Bradley stole it to fly home. Except, there were bandits circling the area the whole time, fifth gens. It was going to be a battle in an f-18. .  . it wasn’t even going to be a fair fight in an f-14. They somehow got in contact with the boat. I heard-” Jake shook his head, trying to gather himself. He sniffled and cleared his throat. You grabbed and squeezed his hand, “They were in trouble. They needed back-up. And I was just sitting there, waiting, and listening. I wasn’t about to listen to my team get shot down again. . . I couldn’t go through that again.” 

Jake wasn’t always the cold-blooded pilot that they knew him to be. The story of the air-to-air kill wasn’t as heroic as everyone thought it was. It was tragic and horrible and sad. Jake had witnessed his wingman, Rider, being shot out of the air, and heard every single moment of it. The screams for help as he was burning in, Jake trying to shake off his own enemy fighter, the prayer for God to come save him, and the goodbye to his wife and child. Jake had hardly ever talked about Rider, it was just too sad. But it was something that played in the back of his head, and was always there to remind him. 

“I went against the direct order to standby. I took off, no back up, no idea what I was about to get myself into, nothing, but your dad screaming in my ear to get my ass back to the damn carrier,” Jake chuckled sadly and you smiled a bit, “I got there just in time. They were out of flares, out of bullets. The fifth gen had missile lock on them. Maverick was telling Rooster to eject but he couldn’t. So, he pulled up as quick as he could to hopefully send them into G-Loc, so when they got-” 

A sob left your mouth as Jake recounted the events of the mission. 

“But I got there,” Jake breathed out, “I got there in time, and I shot the gen down. But that whole time, the only two things I could think about were Rider’s little girl, and you,” Jake looked at you, his green eyes had tears in them, “Miranda sends me pictures of her and god, she looks just like him. And I kept thinking about how she’s growing up without a dad. And how Rooster grew up without a dad. And that I wasn’t, I-I couldn’t be the reason that yet another child would be without a father.” 

“I wasn’t even pregnant then,” You said. 

“No, but it was going to be in the future. Not as soon as we thought, but that's how it goes. Dating, engagement, marriage. . . kids,” Jake swallowed, “I couldn’t sleep that night cause the only thing replaying in my mind was watching some little one, the perfect mix of you and I, receiving my dog tags and a flag with some letter from the Commander of the Pacific fleet. And I couldn’t bring myself to want that for you. But I also couldn’t break up with you either. So I lied.” 

You shook your head and stood up from the porch swing. Jake watched as the gears turned in your head about what to say. You were a lot like your father in the way that you went quiet when you were made, thinking of the perfectly calculated thing to say. Jake had only been on the receiving end of your anger a couple times, and it was terrifying. He would rather take you yelling and screaming at him, then nothing. 

Your hands went to your belly as you felt the tightening of your stomach. You closed your eyes and ran your hands over your bump, “Settle down, little bug, settle it down,” You let out a breath through pursed lips and looked at Jake. 

“Are you okay?” Jake asked, wanting to reach out and pull you into his arms to feel his baby moving around. 

“Braxton Hicks,” You shook your head, “I am too worked up over the fact that you chose to be a fucking coward!” Jake closed his eyes as you yelled at him, “You don’t get to choose what is best for me, Jacob. It’s my choice! MINE! You’re scared of never coming home? Well I am scared too! I am scared every single time you deploy that it’ll be the last time I ever see you. That my dad is going to have to come to my front door and tell me that you’re dead.” 

You could feel your stomach tightening even more, and your chest starting to heart as you paced. Jake stood up from his spot as he watched you. 

“I love you, Jake. I love you so much that it makes me fucking sick. Every rational thought in my head is telling me that I shouldn’t. That I should just leave you be and go with the safer option. To go for the person who wouldn’t let their fears get in the way of loving someone.” 

He knew you were talking about Bradley, and it felt like a knife in his chest. 

“But you don’t love him like that?” Jake didn’t mean for it to come out like a question, but it did. 

“No, I don’t,” You answered and Jake could tell you were telling the truth, “Because I am so stupidly in love with you.” 

Jake crossed over to your side, and grabbed your face, placing a kiss on your lips. You fisted his shirt in your hands, holding onto him tightly as if he were to disappear. The kiss was as if you were oxygen and Jake was running out of air. He kissed you passionately and held onto you tightly, feeling the baby within you kick around. 

You pulled away from him, and rested your forehead against his. You braced your hands on his chest, as his hands went to cradle your bump. You had begun to feel huge seeing your bump nearly double in size every week, but seeing it now in his hands, it looked so small. 

“I love you,” Jake stated, “I always have and always will. Hurting you was the worst thing I had ever done in my life.” 

“I love you too, Jake,” You said back, “But I can’t forgive you, right now.” You gently pushed his hands off of you and took a step back. The tears that were in Jake’s eyes started to spill down his cheeks, “I have to focus on me, and the baby. I can’t have you coming back in my life trying to fix things.” 

“I understand, but please. . . please don’t take her away from me,” His voice broke and it came out barely above a whisper. 

It was as if his worst fear was coming to life. There was nothing in Jake’s life that he wanted more than to raise his daughter. He would do whatever you wanted, but he wasn’t going to let you walk away with her forever. 

“I’m not going to,” You said, “I wouldn’t do that to you. But I can’t live here in this house with you. My dad has a coworker who has a rental house in the same neighborhood as them. He’s agreed to let me rent it out. It’s got an extra room for you to stay in when the baby comes if that’s what you want to do.” 

“I do,” Jake nodded, “I’ll stay with you. And I’ll help you move and set things up.” 

You smiled at him, “Thank you, Jake.” 

“No problem,” Jake said, “I’m sorry for hurting you.” 

You bit your lip, “I’m sorry too.” 

Jake stood on the porch and watched as you walked back to your car, and drove away from him. Once you were out of sight, Jake sat back down on the porch swing. He clenched his jaw and sniffled looking around, trying to stop the sob from leaving his lips, but it was useless. He held his head in his hands and cried. 

— — — 

Spring was probably your favorite time in California. The weather was getting warmer, the sun staying up longer, and the end of the school year approaching soon. It was currently spring break, and you had just crossed over the 24th week mark in your pregnancy. It felt like it was going to be forever until July came, but the end was going to be approaching soon. 

A week ago Jake had come clean about lying to you about the affair and Bradley had admitted to loving you. It had been awkward trying to navigate through all the new information. You weren’t exactly sure what to do or where to go from there. You didn’t want to lose either one, but you knew that you weren’t in love with both of them.  

“Where do you want these?” Bob asked, carrying in a box from the back of the moving truck. 

“Plates?” You asked and he nodded, “Set them in here please.” The WSO nodded and set the box down next to you in the kitchen. You began unboxing them to put away. 

You had finally made the steps into moving into the rental house in your parents neighborhood. The house was a cute little bungalow with a back yard and was close to a park. It had two spare bedrooms for you to turn into a guest room and a nursery. Jake had told you to not worry about setting up the guest room, that he could buy the furniture for it, but you assured him that it was okay. Besides, you had seen his subpar decorating skills. 

“I think this is all- whoa, hey,” Jake said walking into the kitchen, “Off the step stool.” 

You rolled your eyes and stepped off the small ladder that you had put in the kitchen. You put the plate down and then turned to face him, crossing your arms over your chest. Things with Jake had been somewhat easier in the past week than you expected. He respected your boundary of just wanting to be friends. He was just happy that you were okay with him being in your and his daughter’s lives. Although there was still a lingering feeling in the air of something unresolved, that neither one of you was ready to dive in and unpack yet. 

“I can’t put a plate away?” You questioned. 

“Not when it involves using a step stool,” Jake walked over to you and grabbed the plate from the counter and put it away. 

“Well someone is so rudely in the way,” You pointed to your bump and Jake smiled. 

“Don’t blame her,” He put his hand on your bump. 

“No, I blame you for putting her in here,” You groaned, “Is the air on?” 

“Has been all day,” Jake walked over to the fridge and grabbed out a water bottle. It was a pretty warm day for it being mid-March, and you were already starting to feel uncomfortable by the temperature. It also didn’t help that the house was full of aviators helping you move. 

“Ugh, it’s fucking hot,” You complained, “Can you do me a favor?” 

“Hm?” Jake asked. 

“Rub my lower back please.” 

Jake nodded and walked over to you. You bent slightly at the waist, bracing your hands on the counter as Jake’s hands touched your back. You groaned as his fingers started digging into the flesh, feeling the knots that were in your muscles. The back pain was the worst that you had ever felt, and Doctor Miller said it was because you were carrying low. When you were teaching throughout the day you wore a brace to try and relieve some of the pain, and sat down as much as possible. But sitting for too long gives you leg cramps. 

“Fuck, right there,” You breathed out as Jake touched a tender spot, “Ah, yes, fuck.” 

“Careful, someone might think we’re filming a porno in here,” Jake joked and you shot him a glare over your shoulder, “Sorry.” 

“Your kid is already being a pain and she’s not even here yet.” 

“Well she is-” 

“Do these go to your- oh, sorry,” Bradley said walking into the room. You quickly stepped away from Jake, and looked at the box in his hands, “It’s not labeled but it’s pictures and stuff.” 

“Uh, library room,” You said and he nodded. You sighed and looked down at the floor. 

Things with Bradley hadn’t been as smooth as you wanted them to be. The two of you had hardly talked and it surprised you when he showed up to help you move. It was like walking around pins and needles. And apparently the tension didn't just end with you. Phoenix had told you that Bradley had been more jumpy and irritable at work. He even lashed out at Mav the other day for losing a dog fight. 

“He hates me,” Your voice cracked as you spoke. 

“He doesn’t hate you,” Jake said from behind you, “He’s just upset.” 

“Yeah, cause he hates me,” You turned around and faced him, “He told me he loved me and I just ran. I didn’t even say anything or call him or check in on him. I’m a horrible human being.” 

“Hey,” Jake said, and rubbed his hands down your arms, “You aren’t a horrible human being. You are going through a lot right now, and he shouldn’t have thrown it all at you like that. It wasn’t fair. And he doesn’t hate you. I don’t think he ever could.” 

“Why are you being nice about Bradley?” You asked. 

“Because he means a lot to you. He always has, and always will,” Jake said and you raised an eyebrow at him in confusion, “And your dad said if we can’t get along we have to scrub jets with our toothbrushes for the next two weeks.” 

You nodded and tapped your hand on Jake’s chest, before turning and waddling down to your bedroom. 

That night, you had ordered pizza and drinks to thank the aviators for helping you move. Everyone sat around the living room, telling stories and laughing. It made you smile, like old times again. You couldn’t remember the last time you had spent with the entirety of the dagger squad, and were so carefree. Jake kept his arm around the back of the couch, and every so often would gently brush his hand over your bump. You had noticed in the past week, he had become somewhat obsessed with it. He had a hard time keeping his hands to himself. 

“So, have you thought of names?” Fanboy asked, “Cause personally, I think Michelle is a perfect name.” 

“Yeah, right,” Payback rolled his eyes at his WSO. 

“It’s better than Ruebenia,” Fanboy shot back. 

“Actually we have,” Jake said and you looked at him confused, “It was a while ago though, before this one actually became a reality,” He rubbed his hand over your bump, “I like the name Ruth Marie and Y/N likes the name Caroline Grace.” You were surprised that Jake had even said the name out loud. Your eyes cut over to Bradley who stared up at you, his eyes unreadable. You had always loved the name for a little girl for as long as you can remember. 

“Ruth, huh,” Ice asked, “Ruth Marie Seresin?” 

“Kazansky,” Jake said, and squeezed your thigh, “It’ll be Kazansky.” Another thing you were surprised about and blinked at the floor. 

“Are you joking?” Bradley’s voice cut through the air, “What fucking changed, Seresin? Just a few weeks ago you were yelling and threatening to drag her to court over her wanting to have Kazansky as the last name.” You sucked in a breath and shifted in your seat. Ice’s eyes went from Bradley to Jake. 

“Things have changed,” Jake said, “We’ve come to terms that we are going to be co parenting and I want to-” 

“Oh cut the fucking shit,” Bradley stood up from his spot on the ground, “Your trying to kiss ass because you know she’d leave your ass in a fucking second and take her daughter with you.” 

Jake stood up from the couch, standing toe to toe with Bradley, “And you’re trying to act like this baby is yours when it’s not. Trying to play happy family with my girl and my baby.” 

“She’s always been my family, Bagman. You’re the one who’s the fucking intruder,” Bradley shoved Jake’s chest. 

“Enough!” You yelled standing up from the couch, and pushing your way inbetween the two of them, “You two are fucking ridiculous! Fighting over me like I’m the last damn video game on the shelf. Newsflash! I’m not!” 

“I’m trying to help you see that Jake is not a good-” 

“I don’t care if he’s not a good person,” You sighed, “I have no choice but to work with him. I’m not going to take a father away from his child. You, of all people, should know what that’s like.” 

You closed your eyes in regret as soon as the words left your mouth. Bradley looked at you with hurt in his eyes. You clenched your jaw and looked over at Jake. 

“I’m sorry,” You said and Bradley nodded, “I just can’t do the fighting anymore. It’s not good for me, or the baby, and it’s not good for you two or the rest of the team.” 

You didn’t wait to hear if Bradley or anyone would say anything. You turned on your heel and walked down to your new bedroom and shut the door. Jake’s eyes looked down the hall where you went and then looked back at Bradley. 

“I’m willing to be civil towards you, if you can do the same to me,” Jake said and Bradley shook his head. 

“I can’t,” Bradley said, “I can’t do this.” 

And with that, Bradley left the house.

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#top gun fan fic #top gun fan ficton #top gun imagine #top gun #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fan fic #top gun maverick fan fiction #top gun maverick imagine #Jake Seresin #Jake Seresin fan fic #Jake Seresin fan fiction #Jake Seresin imagine #Jake Seresin x reader #Jake Seresin x you #Jake Seresin x y/n #Jake hangman seresin #hangman seresin #hangman fan fic #hangman fan fiction #hangman imagine #hangman x reader #hangman x you #hangman x y/n #hangman #what to expect

[cranberryvishnu]

Cranberry - Bloody Tom and the Coffin Riders... Colter | Part IV

It turned out that I had been taken all the way to the village of Colter!

It was a small, snowbound community that had somehow clawed its way into the inhospitable West Grizzlies region of Ambarino.

It turned out that gold had been discovered near the town and a group of outlaws had sworn to drive the residents out and take it for themselves. They had appealed to Bloody Tom and his posse, the "Coffin Riders" to help defend against the oncoming hoard.

It was there that we met up with Eli. The third member of Bloody Tom's posse - the "Coffin Riders."

I found Eli to be quiet, cordial and even quite humorous at times. Yet there was an ever present atmosphere of danger around him - like a storm about to break at any moment.

We had arrived before the bandits, and had about a week to set up our defenses. This was good, because I still had much recovering to do from my earlier injuries.

I spent the time re-familiarizing myself with my weapons, and rebuilding my stamina. I took quite a bit of time to get my reflexes back. I practiced drawing and firing again and again... and again, until I had regained the speed and accuracy I had lost.

I also helped Bloody Tom and my new found colleagues hunting and gathering supplies in preparation for the stand we would have to make.

It was during those relatively quiet days, that I was able to learn more about Bloody Tom, Eli and Mr. Grimfrost. As my familiarity with them grew, I realized just how fortunate I was to have literally fallen into their company.

Eli as I had described above was quiet. He generally let his actions do the talking. In spite of his gruff, irreverent nature, I found him to be thoughtful and kind to his colleagues as well as a perfect gentleman to me. This stood in stark contrast to the swift, decisive annihilation of his enemies.

Mr. Grimfrost was quite different. It was not unusual to find him off on his own just wandering around admiring the view or strolling through town. We would often walk along in complete silence, just listening to nature and being in the moment. In spite of his tranquil demeanor, Mr. Grimfrost was capable of sudden, deadly action if his friends were ever threatened.

Bloody Tom, the leader of the Coffin Riders was animated, with a unique sense of humor that was as uproariously funny as it was vulgar. He was never at a loss for words. I noticed that he was quick to anger but also, if the occasion called for it, quick to forgive. Bloody Tom was fiercely protective of his posse, and like Eli and Mr. Grimfrost he always put the others first.

I found their loyalty to each other and those they cared about touching. It made my respect for them grow beyond just their combat skills.

It was at the end of that fateful week of preparation when I realized - I would also be willing to put myself in harms way to keep them safe.

---------------------------------------

For more - Cranberry on YouTube

Cranberry on Reddit

#cranberryvishnu #coffin riders #bloody tom #Mr. grimfrost #Eli #rdo character #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #original character

[42bakery]

I hope you all will allow me this post on Pedrenzo day. It won't be as well sourced as the previous ones, but I think we deserve a chronology.

Pre-World championship. They meet for the first time at the CEV (2000), but they have know about each other before that. They are both close to age (19 months) and both were pretty small. At this point, they use the other rider as a reference more than as a rival as they both are fighting against people older and more experience than them with the handicap of their age and height.

In 125cc (2002 and 2003) During this period of time, their rivalry started, but it was pretty tame. It's also important to note that it was mostly external factors that started it rather than the riders itself. Dani was racing for Telefonica/Movistar and Jorge for Caja Madrid/Fortuna), which made them two very young rider, with lots of talent and pretty promising, in Spanish teams. Their teams weren't friendly against each other, and their manager also used to be rivals. All of it, made the riders feel like they had to beat the other in the track at all cost. it got to the point on wanting to know the other's position to see if they have placed higher.

We also had their characters component, that is something that will follow them their whole life. Dani is quite and calm. He does things behind close doors and the talking on the track. Where Jorge is loud, very loud, and he uses the media and does the talking in the open. They also had 0 contact outside track between them, not even a 'hi' when meeting at the paddock.

In 250cc (2005) In here their 125cc rivalry is intensify. Dani was already 2 times World Champion and Jorge had still to prove himself. Dani was the dominant force to beat and Jorge wanted to be the one to do that. There was also the talking everyone did on the media, that fueled their rivalry. Everyone was accusing everyone of doing things. (mostly Puig, Amatriaín and Jorge).

In this year, the thing between them got much worse as they made contact on track several times. Germany is mentioned as the time that set everything into flames, but Catalunya was the turning point. Due to his excess of aggressiveness (and probably unconsciousness and stupidity), Jorge got a race ban (Malaysia 2005) after he made contact at the Japanese GP with De Angelis and Dani. Jorge used to blame Dani for that because instead of helping him, Dani took out all the receipts of the contact they made on track, which was the nail in Jorge's coffin according to Lorenzo. Older Jorge will admit he deserved it and that it was a turning point for him.

It's during this time when Dani refused to say Jorge's name or mention him (Germany 2005 forward), which pissed Jorge. And I think it still pisses him to some extend.

So by the time Dani moved to MotoGP, they were at each other's throats, specially with the media, and with Dani as a 3 times Word Champion and Jorge still needing to prove himself.

MotoGP When Jorge made it to MotoGP, media expected them pick their rivalry where they left it, and it kind of did with the Qatar incident. In that Grand Prix Dani didn't congratulate Jorge after a good result, and it pissed Jorge. Years later we learn it was due to an injury. However, it put them in the 'not speaking' terms and labelled as bitter rivals. The following Grand Prix, the ex-King of Spain (Juan Carlos I), who is a fan of racing, tried to show they get along and it was just a misunderstanding made them shake hands at the pre-podium.

Instead of cleaning the air in between them or cleaining their image it made it all worse. It looked like they couldn't be in the same room if they weren't forced to share the space.

On track they keep fighting hard against each other, more cleanly this time, and still with the same mentality as in 125cc and 250cc. If I can't win because there are other riders doing/having a better day than me, at least I have to beat Dani/Jorge.

Allegedly, 2008 was the worse point in their rivalry, but when asked them directly, they was the period of time between 2008-2010. Their rivalry got to that point it split the whole country. People were genuinely asking if you were Team Dani or Team Jorge. There are still videos of young Spanish riders having to choose (the Márquez used to be die hard Dani fans and Rins was team Jorge all the way).

Little by little, after fighting so much and for so long against each other, and sharing so many space and podiums together, their relationship moved from bitter rivals, to just rivals, to the rival I respect. Dani said that for him the big change was 2012, when their championship fight was the closes. Dani realized that he had been fighting his whole life with Jorge, therefore, they are as good as the other. Their rivalry had made them grown as riders because they had to outsmart and be better on track than the other, so it was a hats off moment.

In 2012 we also had the first physical approach between them. It was also in Qatar when they hugged for the first time, and it was a symbol of them finally burying the hatchet.

2012 also gave us the iconic marriage proposal (please watch the whole video, it explains Pedrenzo rivalry up to 2012).

From then on, their relationship improved a lot. It could also be that they both had change their managers by 2013, so part of what it set their rivalry wasn't in the equation anymore. They also had grown from kids to adults!

In 2015 Dani invited Jorge to Sete Gibernau's (ex-ride, and Dani's friend and coach) 'ranch'/track for a training weekend among other riders. Jorge ended up getting injured, and Dani went out of his way to check on him because Jorge was fighting for the championship. He got injured in the collarbone and Jorge himself admitted it was dumb because he just wanted to win against Dani when racing with smaller bikes. Apparently Pedrosa was miles faster than any other riders (Rins was there and I think the Espargarós too are mentiones

In 2018, when it was announced that Jorge was moving from Ducati to Honda and was going to replace Dani, Jorge tried to convince Pedrosa to stay in the championship by switching to the Petrona's team. It was pretty public with Jorge saying how a much smoother bike will suit Dani's riding style. Ultimately, Dani decided he didn't want to break anymore bones or suffer, so he retired.

Jorge and Dani exchanging helmets at the end of the 2018 season

After MotoGP Now they have a pretty good relationship. They can be in the same room and laugh and talk for hours about racing, including their 250cc races. Jorge will be the one pulling all the monts and remembering the weirdest stuff and Dani will look bamboozled because he doesn't remember that. In fact, among all DAZN's pundits, Jorge is the one that makes Dani smile and talk the most.

They're pretty quick to mention the other rider when possible (specially Jorge), and they are pretty open when asked about their battles in and out of the track. In fact Jorge will jump at any opportunity to mention and praise Dani. Dani will need a bit more of coaxing, but he will also talk and praise Jorge.

Now that the know parts are about, I want to share some thought I have about them.

I think this imatge basically summarizes their relationship. And creditto Jorge Lorenzo himself for putting it together.

First photo is pretty early in their relationship. You can see that they aren't interested in each other. It's basically a photo for the media. The middle one is Jerez 2008 and you can see how forced their handshake is. The king gets the wrong hand, and all of them are confused and wants to be done with it. And the last one, it's more than a handshake. They are truly happy and comfortable around the other. They want it.

Waru's thoughts I think young Jorge was really mad at Dani and wanted to win Dani no matter what due to the different way they got into the championship. All red tapes were broken for Dani. His ages was overlooked when he entered the Movistar Cup, when Jorge had to wait until he was 15 to make his debut. Dani had Puig who saw him and decided to bring him to the top, despite not meeting the criteria that was set, while Jorge had to fight and crawl all his way up. Yes Jorge got a manager and his dad, but he also had to prove himself over and over while Dani could flop and Puig would have still been at his side. It's also the relationship between Dani and his dad. Antonio was there to guide and support Dani, but at the end of the day it was Dani who took the decision, while Jorge didn't have a great relationship with his dad. Chicho acted more as a coach than a dad.

And then when Dani got the 125cc tittle, he got the ColaCao add, that made him look as the good boy that hasn't broken anything, while Jorge had the bad boy label. Dani had everything he wanted, DORNA's approval as he has come thought a DORNA's approved championship, a good relationship with his dad, a great mentor and a team behind. Basically it could be seen as DORNA had picked Dani to be the next Spanish winner at the big category (see why I translated Elegido para ganar as handpicked to win?) and instead, Jorge was the one who did it.

So yes, I think Jorge saw Dani having everything he had fighter for, and not having had to fight as hard as hi. So apart of all the things mentioned above, I think there was a bit of jealousy involved too. But well this is what I think, I might be wrong, but the way Jorge reacts when the ColaCao add is mentioned is prove that there was more there.

And here is all the chronology. If you think I forgot anything let me know! Also feel free to add things if you want.

#MotoGP #250cc #125cc #Dani Pedrosa #Jorge Lorenzo #Pedrenzo #Pedrenzo Chronology #DaniLoveFest2024 #DaniLoveFest #ummm didn't I write a similar post recently? #For this reason I think Permín is so Pedrenzo coded there are so many parallels

[servantofthefates]

Physical Death Pairings in Tarot and Lenormand

Cartomancy is all about context. If your question is on anything other than physical death itself, then these pairings will carry different meanings.

TAROT

When tarot was born in the 1400s, vaccines, antibiotics and pasteurization had not yet been invented. Diseases we now consider harmless led easily to death. It was the most literal card. So today, when asking about physical death, look at what is beside it. In these pairings, Death should always come second.

The Hermit + Death

Dying of Old Age

Justice + Death

Death by Vengeance

The Hanged Man + Death

Suicide

The Devil + Death

Murder

The Tower + Death

Shocking Death

The Moon + Death

Cursed to Death

The Sun + Death

Sudden Infant Death Syndrome

Judgement + Death

A Deserved Death

Five of Wands + Death

Killed by Friendly Fire

Seven of Wands + Death

Honorable Death

Ten of Wands + Death

Killed by Stress

Five of Cups + Death

Dying of Loneliness

Six of Cups + Death

Dying Young

Seven of Cups + Death

Drowning

Eight of Cups/Six of Swords + Death

Road Fatality

Three of Swords + Death

Dying of a Broken Heart

Seven of Swords + Death

Stabbed to Death

Nine of Swords + Death

Dying in Sleep

Ten of Swords + Death

Painful Death

Five of Pentacles + Death

Starving to Death

LENORMAND

This system is more brutal than tarot. While Death in modern contexts means transformation, Coffin in most cases means a final ending. So when asking about physical death, look to the card beside it. In these pairings, Coffin can come first or second.

Rider + Coffin

Death by Stampede

Ship + Coffin

Dying at Sea

House + Coffin

Killed by a Loved One

Tree + Coffin

Fatal Illness

Clouds + Coffin

Suicide

Snake + Coffin

Killed by a Rival

Scythe + Coffin

Stabbed to Death

Whip + Coffin

Beaten to Death

Child + Coffin

Dying Young

Bear + Coffin

Crushed to Death

Tower + Coffin

Dying of Loneliness

Mice + Coffin

Killed by Burglars

Heart + Coffin

Cardiac Arrest

Ring + Coffin

Spousal Murder

Fish + Coffin

Killed for Money

Anchor + Coffin

Asphyxia

Cross + Coffin

Killed in the Name of Religion

#Tarot #Tarot tips #Witch tips #Lenormand #servantofthefates #Witchblr #Divination #Lenormand Tips #All About Tarot #All About Divination

[kckt88]

The Fallen Queen.

Summary:

Having fled Kings Landing, Rhaenyra returns to Dragonstone unaware of what awaits her.

Warning(s): Fear, Swearing, Riots, Death.

Word Count: 1564

Author Note: A companion piece to Wedding & Consummation/Arrival(s)/Mother & Father/Petitions & Final Tributes/The Hand, The King & The Dragon/Dragonstone/Blood & Cheese/A Time for Grief/The Gullet/Harrenhal and the Rivers & The Gods Eye.

But can be read as a one-shot.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

A day after Daemon and Caraxes had disappeared into the night, the City Watch drove the first nail into Rhaenyra’s coffin. Bartimos Celtigar and his tax collectors were set upon by the guards and common folk alike, torn to shreds in the streets of Kings Landing.

The riots soon began. Smallfolk charged the Red Keep armed with makeshift weapons, hurling insults at the top of their lungs while they raged.

“Maegor with Teats!”

“Rhaenyra the Cruel”

“Long live King Aegon!”

“Justice for Queen Helaena”

“For Prince Aemon and Prince Jaehaerys”

“Fuck the Whore of Dragonstone!”

And then the castle gates fell.

The Queens Guard tried to move her and the children into Maegor’s Holdfast, but Rhaenyra refused. There was no one coming to save her from this siege. Hiding in Maegor’s Holdfast would only leave them trapped. Their only hope now was to escape.

One by one, the Queens Guard left her side, running to the aid of the castle guards who tried desperately to keep the growing swarm of smallfolk from breaking into the Keep itself. And now Harold Westerling, her only remaining Queens Guard, needed to leave her in the care of a solitary household guard because the mob had finally started to overpower their defences.

They would not stop; they were coming for her head.  

“Mother. What do we do?” asked Aegon tugging on her sleeve.

“We wait for our opportunity and then we fly,” said Rhaenyra.

Their window of opportunity would be small. Syrax, and Stormcloud were chained, the castle’s courtyard. There were not enough guards to defend them, and rioters were streaming into the courtyard in droves, all meeting their death in continuous bursts of dragon fire. And still they kept coming.

Once there was a break between the sea of rioters, Rhaenyra would rush her children to the courtyard where they would mount Syrax and make their escape.

They would return to Dragonstone, and after getting Jace from Driftmark they would cross the Narrow Sea. Even there, she had no money, she still had some jewellery left behind on Dragonstone that she could sell. Or, as much as the thought made her whimper, she could sell her father’s crown. It wasn’t truly hers anyway, not when the realm had rejected her as its queen.

It would be enough to start the family’s new life while they transitioned to earning a living as dragon riders.

Assuming Aegon didn’t put a bounty on her head.

Rhaenyra had brief thought that maybe one day her children or grandchildren could reclaim the throne. But she shook off the thought. 

Let Aegon have it. Just let him have it. Let all the misery that comes with it be his.

After a group of rioters had been dispatched by bursts of combined fire from Syrax and Stormcloud.

The courtyard was empty. This was her only chance to save little Aegon and Viserys.

Maternal instincts kicking in, she grabbed one son in each arm and sprinted as fast as her legs would carry her. They made it to the courtyard with minutes to spare, the next wave of rioters within sight as they barrelled towards the courtyard, screaming and shouting.

Syrax roared and flailed her wings as Rhaenyra situated Aegon and Viserys into the saddle first, then climbed up.

They escaped just in the nick of time, as the common folk began throwing debris at them from below as they rose into the sky.

As both dragons disappeared into the clouds, the reign of Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen had come to an end.

Rubbing Syrax’s nose in gratitude, Rhaenyra helped her children off her dragon’s back and then hugged them close to her chest. In time, she would process her losses one by one. In time, she would mourn them all: Her father, Visenya, Lucerys, and the love of the kingdom that she thought would be hers.

In time, she would feel comfortable and safe enough to grieve. And in time, she would recover. She had no choice. Aegon and Viserys needed her.

“Are we safe now, mother?” asked Aegon in a tiny voice, tears streaming down his cheeks.

She couldn’t answer him. She could not tell him another lie, not after everything. Nor could she tell him the truth and inflict another heartache upon him, and so she just hugged him harder.

“We’re waiting for your father to come and join us, then we will go to Driftmark get your brother and then we’ll fly across the narrow sea as a family” whispered Rhaenyra.

“I want father” cried Viserys.

So did Rhaenyra, she had never been so alone, so truly alone, in her life. There was always someone there with her to command her, to advise her, to nudge her in the right direction. And now that she was the only one left, she was a tree without roots.  

But Rhaenyra didn’t know if Daemon would ever be there for her again.

He’d gone to Harrenhall to face Aemond, but there had been no sight of him since he’d left Kings Landing.

For the time being, though, Viserys and Aegon needed to go inside and lay down in their own beds. They also needed food and water.

In her ignorance, Rhaenyra had failed to tell Syrax to circle the island first to look for potential hazards before landing. Otherwise, she would have seen the golden dragon in time to take the family safely away from Dragonstone.

Rhaenyra scarcely made it inside before a scuffling of feet caught her attention from behind. And when she spun around, a cold finger of dread crept up her spine.

“Welcome home. Sister” said Aegon smiling as Rhaenyra was surrounded by guards.

“A-Aegon” exclaimed Rhaenyra.

“Surprised to see me?” asked Aegon.

“What are you doing here?” snapped Rhaenyra as she moved protectively in front of her two young sons.

“When you invaded Kings Landing, I had to go somewhere and what better place than our ancestral home”.

“Dragonstone is my home” snarled Rhaenyra.

“Technically Dragonstone belongs to the heir and had he been alive, it would belong to my son Jaehaerys” said Aegon.

“I-I had nothing to do with what happened to your son”.

“Thing is, Jacaerys already dropped you in it. He told us everything. You were involved in the plot to murder my son, but you were kind enough to want to spare your grandchildren, even though you believed it was Aemond who killed Lucerys” said Aegon.

“Aemond did kill Luke,” shouted Rhaenyra.

“No, he didn’t. If you wish to know who really killed your sweet boy, I suggest you look a little closer to home”.

“What are you-“

“-It was Daemon who killed him” said Aegon.

“N-No it wasn’t your lying” exclaimed Rhaenyra.

“Afraid not. A raven from your daughter arrived just before you did. Daemon confessed to his crime, just before Aemond killed him” replied Aegon.

“D-Daemon’s dead?”

“Perished in a dragon battle above the Gods Eye” said Aegon.

“I-I do not wish for any more bloodshed. Please brother. You can have the throne; I will not fight you” urged Rhaenyra.

“Any more bloodshed? My sons are dead. My wife is dead. My nephew is dead. My grandsire is dead” yelled Aegon.

“I will leave Westeros. I will take Aegon and Viserys and fly across the narrow sea. You will never see or hear from me again” said Rhaenyra desperately.

“You will always be a challenge, simply by breathing”.

“No. I will never seek to claim the Iron Throne again” exclaimed Rhaenyra.

“How the mighty have fallen. You are nothing without your kinslaying husband” spat Aegon.

“Aegon. Please” muttered Rhaenyra nervously.

“Do you even feel one ounce of remorse for what’s happened?”

“Of course, I do. Not a day goes by where I don’t regret what happened to Aemon and your son” replied Rhaenyra.

“What about your daughter? All she wanted was for you too love her and yet you never showed her one ounce of it” snarled Aegon.

“I-I tried to. But I just couldn’t” muttered Rhaenyra.

“What did she ever do to deserve that?”

“She didn’t deserve any of it.” said Rhaenyra.

“No, she didn’t. None of us deserved it” snapped Aegon.

“Please just let me and my sons go. I will never trouble you again” begged Rhaenyra.

“I cannot let you go” muttered Aegon.

“MOTHER” sobbed Aegon as he and Viserys were suddenly ripped away from Rhaenyra.

“NO. DON’T HURT THEM,” shouted Rhaenyra as she was shoved to her knees.

“Do not worry sister. Only you shall pay for your crimes. I am no child killer” said Aegon.

Sunfyre loomed over Aegon, his fangs bared. His roar echoing the fury of his rider.

Rhaenyra closed her eyes, and in the moments before her death she remembered the day she gave birth to the most precious girl in the world. An angel fallen from the heavens, a gift that she’d squandered. How she wished she could see her just one last time and tell her how sorry she was.

“Vaera-” whispered Rhaenyra.

“-Dracarys!” ordered Aegon, his command drowning out Aegon and Viserys screams as his dragon obeyed, engulfing Rhaenyra in his flame.

“MOTHER!” cried Viserys, screaming and thrashing, to get out of Ser Arryk’s grip, but the strength of a four-year-old was nothing to a grown man. Especially when little Aegon said nothing at all, staring on in quiet shock.

#house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #aemond x oc #rhaenyra targaryen #aegon ii targaryen

[ladykailitha]

Star Child Part 4

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

They arrived at the green room for the little dive bar they were playing at the next day. They always sold out stadiums, but this was a way for them to give back to the dive bars that got them their start.

Sitting among the swaths of things mentioned in their rider was a bouquet of flowers.

Jeff turned to the owner, Jess. “Hey, what’s this? We said no fan gifts in the green room.”

“I wasn’t sure where else to put it,” she said with a shrug. “Because it’s not from a fan. Or at least not the usual kind.”

Eddie walked over to the flowers and picked them. Inside the black tissue paper were some of the most beautiful black and dark red flowers he’d ever seen. There was a card.

-Eddie

Good luck, in case I miss the concert.

Steve

And there was a little heart next to his name.

“Oh.”

Jess smiled. “So I was right, not the usual fan.”

The other three members crowded over Eddie’s shoulder and read the note.

Gareth looked up at her and grinned. “Nope, you were so right. This a suitor for the fair Eddie.”

Eddie smacked his arm. “Fuck off, man.”

“So is he going to try to come to the concert then?” Brian asked, pointing to card.

“That’s what it looks like,” Jeff said.

Eddie leaned around his friends to look at Jess. “But I thought it was sold out.”

“It is,” Jess agreed. “But if he bought a ticket before hand, he’s going to get in, right?”

Eddie just frowned. Steve didn’t seem to know about the concert tonight when they talked yesterday.

“He bought me flowers.”

He cheeks turned as red as the roses.

Brian just squeezed his shoulder.

“Come on, man,” he said. “Let’s get set up.”

*

Eddie kept an eye out on the crowd looking for any pop stars in tight leather pants, but to no avail.

So with a pout he slunk back to the green room and there sitting on the ratty neon green sofa was Steve Harrington.

He gave them a dorky little wave.

Jeff laughed. “How the hell, man?”

Steve turned on his cheesiest grin. “Jess and I went to high school together.”

Jess came in behind the band and glared at him. “And if you tell them anything else, do not forget I have still have our eighth grade year book.”

Steve’s grin turned feral. “I don’t have to tell them anything, sweetheart. Or did you forget Corroded Coffin are Hawkins High boys, too?”

Jess circled around them, eyeing them critically. “I think I’d remember those hot asses.”

Gareth laughed. “We were sophomores when you were a senior, well except Eddie here.”

“What the hell were you doing hanging out with sophomores?” Jess asked.

“Trying to graduate for billionth time,” Eddie groused. “I was the year above you, your year, and the year after you.”  

“And then we made it big and didn’t matter anymore,” Brian said, clapping Eddie on the back.

“We all still graduated,” Jeff said. “We made sure of that.”

“Lucky you,” Steve said with a pained smile.

“What?”

The whole band turned to Steve.

He shrugged. “I have my GED, but I never actually graduated. I was too busy learning dance moves and trying to keep my falsetto.”

“Thank fuck that didn’t last long,” Gareth said flopping on the couch next to Steve.

“What the dance moves or the falsetto?” Steve asked bumping him with his shoulder.

“The falsetto, man,” Jeff agreed. “Otherwise we wouldn’t have got that kick ass performance two nights ago.”

Jess moved further into the room. “What’s this? I didn’t know you guys performed together.”

Steve and Eddie pulled out their phones but Eddie was faster, pulling up the video of the “Low Key in Love” portion of the concert.

And Jess watched as Steve started the song. And then her eyebrows went up and she glanced at Steve who ducked his head blushing.

And then it got to the end and she stared at him open mouthed. “Holy shit dude. Why are you still doing bubblegum pop?”

“That’s what I want to know!” Jeff said.

“Contract.” Steve’s smile had gone and a mask shuttered his features.

Eddie frowned and then realized why.

“Sometimes you’ve got walk before you can run,” Eddie said putting his phone away. “And when you do release that kickass alt rock album, give me a call, I want in.”

Steve’s expression cleared to something resembling hope. “Yeah? I’d like that. A lot.”

*

The guys were in the green room clearing up their stuff, so Jess and Steve left them to it.

“Those boys know what you are?” she asked, popping a cap off a beer and sliding it over to him.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Steve said, scraping the label with his fingernail.

“Steve,” Jess said, low. “A lot of us figured you for gay or at the very least bisexual.”

Steve’s head rocked up in shock. “What?”

“I don’t know how you thought you were being subtle,” Jess said opening up a beer for herself. “You were eyeing Billy’s ass as often as you were eyeing Nancy’s tits.”

Steve blushed.

“So I’m gonna ask again,” Jess said, leaning on the bar. “Do those boys know what you are?”

Steve huffed out a laugh. “I’d sure hope so. I’m flirting with their lead singer.”

Jess boggled. “You’re Steve, the Steve that sent the flowers?”

Steve grinned.

“That’s right,” Gareth said, coming up from behind. “Steve-o here sent our Eddie flowers.”

“And what flowers they were,” Eddie agreed. “Very metal.”

Steve laughed again. “That’s a good thing I hope.”

“The best,” Eddie said with a wink.

“Beers for all you boys?” Jess asked.

“I’d kill for a cocktail,” Brian said. “Not sure what I’m in the mood for, but I want something sweet.”

Steve chuckled. “I know how to make one cocktail. Learned for an girlfriend who loved them.”

Jess raised an eyebrow. “This I’ve got to see.” She stepped out from behind the bar and bowed.

Steve laughed.

“All you boys wanna try this or am I just making one for Brian?” he said as he slid easily behind the bar, looking around for what he needed. “Where are your glasses?”

Jess pointed them out and looked over his shoulder. Everyone agreed to try Steve’s little cocktail so he got out four glasses. Poured the tequila, orange juice and the grenadine making a beautiful color gradient in the glass.

Everyone grabbed a glass and downed the drink.

Jeff began coughing. “Holy shit, dude, that is way too sweet.”

Gareth shrugged. “It’s not bad, but it’s not my thing.”

Brian grabbed their glasses and hoarded them. “I’ll take them then. Mine!”

Everyone laughed.

Steve turned to Eddie. “So what did you think?”

Eddie looked him in the eyes. “It’s good. Not something I’d order myself. But if I was handed it to me a party I wouldn’t turn it down.”

“Fair enough,” Steve said.

“So what’s it called?” Jeff asked. “The Harrington special?”

“Fuck no,” Steve said with a laugh. “It was invented in the 70s.”

“You going to tell us what it is, then, big boy?” Eddie teased.

“I don’t want to say, it’s embarrassing.”

Jess laughed. “I’d say. So cliche, man.” She slapped the bar. “You learned it for an ex girlfriend, should I guess the one?”

“No, no, nope,” Eddie said, waving his hands. “I don’t want to know. Let me enjoy the drink.”

Jess laughed and Steve blushed.

“You can look it up,” Steve mumbled. “It’s the second fill in when you start typing in tequila.”

The boys hurried to pull out their phones. One by one they started laughing when they got their answer.

Eddie rolled his eyes and pulled out his phone. “Hey Siri.”

“Yes?” came the robotic voice.

“What is the drink called with orange juice, tequila, and grenadine?”

“A tequila sunrise.”

Eddie slowly licked his lips. “Thanks, Siri.”

Part 5 Part 6 Part 7  Part 8 Part 9  Part 10  Part 11  Part 12  Part 13  Part 14 Part 15  Part 16

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