#i have all 150 chapters all out for me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sugar-grigri · 4 months

Text

The ambivalence of life: the massage metaphor

I'm going to get straight to the point: Denji is perfectly right to want to suffer - it's precisely what he lacked in his 'normal' life.

To understand this, let's go back to the chapter.

Introducing Denji as a CSM wannabe right at the start of the chapter isn't as insignificant as you might think, because this chapter helps to differentiate between CSM and a CSM wannabe.

After all, Denji could very well be one, and chapter 150 makes it clear that the protagonist's dream is to be a CSM, so he literally wants... to be a CSM.

But in order to become CSM himself, we have to understand what CSM is. And that's precisely where the difference lies between a CSM wannabe and Denji as CSM.

Part 2 has repeatedly shown that 'CSM' has become a marketing product, an idol for young people, a source of detestation for others, like express usurpers who have taken to the stage. In short, CSM's identity began to become more diffuse, questioned to the point where it seemed to escape Denji. So what is CSM?

Well, let me ask you this: what's the first thing you think of when I mention CSM?

Most fans will cite the most traumatic and tragic chapters, shuddering at the mere mention of volume 9. There's your answer: suffering is the secret of CSM's identity.

But let's move away from this more meta side, and get back to the chapter.

I know that Nayuta being pushed aside and put in her place stung some people's hearts and it hurt me too! But Denji is right to push her away, cruel as that may seem. Because the complexity of Denji and Nayuta's relationship also lies in the fact that their relationship can have several negative sides.

Firstly, Nayuta is and remains the demon of control, a demon who can't help but have a hold, even over those she loves. And she has done this with Denji on one occasion: when she forbids him to see Asa again.

She forbids it out of a desire to protect him, fearing that Denji will be taken in by yet another girl. This reaction depresses Denji, but he regains hope by acting as CSM, motivated by Nayuta herself because CSM is admired and loved by people. The first instinct at this stage would be to think that this is a bit contradictory: why push Nayuta away when she's the first to admire and encourage CSM?

Because she hasn't grasped what CSM is all about either. I'll expand on that later, but for now, keep in mind that suffering is intrinsic to CSM. Even when she prevented Denji from continuing his story with Asa, she was preventing Denji from suffering, in itself, from experimenting. The same experience can be just as beneficial as it can be negative, and it's part of the game of life not to know the outcome of a relationship, otherwise you wouldn't go with others.

And that's what Nayuta has done, the demon of control has a happiness that's enough to be two, it's a demon that risks being alone so much that a single loved one is enough to make her happy. But that's Nayuta's idea, not Denji's.

I'll come back to this a bit more, but for the moment I'm still going to follow the chapter. Denji almost comes to thank Barem and the others for burning down his house and his pets, but he's also aware that morality is being undermined and even talks to Pochita about it. And that's fascinating.

Even though it may seem horrible, the loss of his animal family allows Denji to realise that he needs this suffering in his life, for many reasons. If Kishibe judged Denji as a man made to kill demons, it's because suffering makes him gloat, because it's the most intense experience he's had in his life.

Transforming himself into a CSM is a way for Denji to confront suffering; he has even internalised it since he was a child, making his body suffer to pay off his debts.

CSM is a creature made for suffering. When Aki became possessed by the Gun Devil, CSM was the culmination of Denji's suffering, his demonic form killing his brother. Just as Denji transformed into Pochita was saved by a dying Power.

The foundations of Denji, Aki and Power only consolidated Denji's relationship with suffering. This double facet, between love and suffering through grief. Pochita is another example, because becoming CSM was followed by an experience of mourning, the loss of Pochita who had merged with him.

Suffering is as intrinsic to all species as are death and love because suffering is the result of both, the love we have for others is the cause of our suffering when they die.

CSM is this universality, with Pochita sacrificing himself to prevent Denji from dying, suffering every time the cable is pulled. And instead of fighting it, CSM uses it as the engine of his chainsaws. When Nayuta says that this is not the time for chainsaws, she wants to prevent her brother from suffering. But Denji understands that it's precisely when he's suffering that it's time to be CSM.

Having your head and arms brutally chopped off hurts, fighting demons hurts, in short, transforming into a CSM physically hurts and must hurt. Imagine having a cable cut in half across your torso: it hurts, so why pull it? That's why Denji IS CSM, because it's when it hurts that he realises he wants to be CSM?

Hybrids don't exploit this pain, demons like the Eternity Demon are even afraid of it, and that's what explains CSM's superiority: suffering exalts him and he uses it as a means to fight. When Quanxi cut off the weapons' heads, it was enough for them to admit defeat, while Denji calmly puts his head back on, not giving up the fight.

Weapons can't die, but they can see others die, just as suffering can't escape them either. Either they see themselves almost as demigods, as prophets, or they can see themselves as great knights out to save the world.

Denji knows how to exploit his nature; he drinks blood at the slightest opportunity, tries to devour like a demon and is not afraid to use it, unlike the other hybrids. (Quanxi is an exception)

As the spear weapon starts to provoke CSM by saying to really scare them, CSM exploits being sliced in half. Suffering is the fear of weapons.

The whole thing also has a symbolic force, because we've been trying endlessly to cut Denji in two, his human life on the one hand and his life as CSM on the other. Cutting CSM in two won't do him any good, all he has to do is pull his cable.

But above all, the comparison with massage is a very good one, because it sums up life, this combination of good sensations and not-so-good ones. This is precisely what pitted Denji against Makima, that bad films or bad facets of the world and humanity must exist.

This time, part 2 doesn't boil down to this ideology; what Denji is saying is that to live is also to suffer, to be happy is also to have been unhappy. All these things are not mutually exclusive, they go together.

That's why Denji wins against the weapons, because he won't fight against the suffering they'll put him through, he'll use it to the full, knowing that behind it all there'll be a good feeling. And that seeing the positive side even in pain is nothing other than hope.

Denji himself says that life is a superposition of all these facets. There are things we may never get over, but they don't stop us from moving forward. That's why this chapter is incredible, because Denji doesn't accept suffering as a demon when he's fighting, he wants to accept it in his life too, Denji's life, he has to experiment without Nayuta's permanent approval.

Denji has lost many people close to him, including his pets. It is precisely through their loss that he wants to suffer. Because suffering is the privilege of the living.

Chainsaw Man is nothing more than 2 entities reunited to survive together.

CSM's laughter is symbolic of this, and chapter 151 made an explicit reference to chapter 82 when Makima starts laughing despite the paroxysm of suffering for Denji, who has just seen Power die. What Fujimoto does is bring together the previous antagonist and the protagonist, to bring out the essence of his work.

Both Makima and Denji laugh despite the horror of the situation as the mask finally comes off, Makima presents her plans and Denji realises what Chainsaw Man is. In short, laughter is the symbol of letting go, as the mask finally comes off. And all this sums up Chainsaw Man, this confrontation between comedy and tragedy, this strange association.

Readers, don't fight the suffering of the characters either, you're reading CSM precisely because of it. You want to suffer just like CSM. So have fun with it.

#chainsaw man #csm #csm part 2 #csm spoilers #csm 152 #csm 151 #denji hayakawa #denji #asa mitaka #yoru #nayuta #nayuta hayakawa #kishibe #pochita #makima #tatsuki fujimoto #my thoughts #csm analysis

389 notes · View notes

alice-angel12x · 3 months

Text

Born Of Unknown Stardust

Chapter 2

summary: The angles formed the world and all mortal life from dust. One day from the unknown the angels came across bizarre dust, that seemed to have a will of its own. It refused to be molded and shaped to the angel's will. So they cast it aside, till a certain angel got his creative hands on it.

(bittersweet story)

<-Part 1/ part 3 ->

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

150 years Later

Yuu quickly runs through the halls, searching for a place to hide. A flapping of wings was getting closer. Finding an open room, Yuu quickly hides under the desk. Staying as quiet as possible, as the sound of fast-beating wings zipped by the room. Yet Yuu knew better to stay there for long.

Sadly they were no longer the size of a duckling, but the size of a young toddler. So hiding was a lot harder.

So not wanting to get caught, Yuu quickly dove under a pile of sheets and clothes. Soon the chaser returned, and footsteps could be heard.

"Where are you Yuu? I know you're in here?" Lucifer said as he took his sweet time. "You can't hide forever."

Yuu covered their mouth to muffle their giggles. Lucifer chuckled to himself as he heard them. But decided to humor them for a bit, as he quickly looked under the desk. To obviously not find anyone.

"Alright, I guess no one is in here. Where did you go?" Lucifers said as he slowly left the room.

Yuu, the clever little tot they were, knew he was up to something. So burning up some sheets into a ball, and using some magic. Shot the sheet out the door, letting it float like someone was running under the sheets. Lucifer quickly gave chase, as Yuu ran in the opposite direction.

As Lucifer gave chase to the decoy, he heard the small pitter-pater of feet behind him.

"Hey! You Little Trickster, I got you know!" Lucifer chuckled as he swiftly changed direction and quickly caught the young tot.

Yuu squealed and laughed as Lucifer began to relentlessly tickle the child.

"You had me chasing you all morning, when I told you to clean your room. Will you clean your room now?" Lucifer asked as he continued to prod at Yuu.

"I Promise!!!" Yuu gasped from all the tickling.

Yuu giggled as they finally slipped out of Lucifer's hold when something caught their eye. Just beyond the pearly gates, the malted surface of the newly formed earth could be seen. From the window, Yuu stared in awe as Lucifer watched on.

"Da? Did the elders let you join the project yet?" Yuu asked.

"Nope. Still too radical my ideas. Are what they tell me," Lucifer sighed as he picked Yuu up.

"Hmm. Can we make our own earth?" Yuu asked.

"Our own earth? Hmm, maybe. But what would you put on this earth?" Lucifer asked.

"I would... I would fill it with Ducks!" Yuu said proudly.

"Ducks? A world full of ducks huh?" He smiles with a chuckle.

"Yeah, an earth of ducks," Yuu smiles. " I can create stuff like you. I can do it."

"Well, small things. You need to be a little stronger than that to make a whole planet. It takes multiple elder angels to form an Earth," Lucifer explained.

"Then I'll just get stronger, you'll teach me. Won't you?" Yuu asked.

"I'll teach you everything I know," Lucifer promised.

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

Yuu from then on would practice and study harder than anyone to accomplish their dream. Lucifer watched with pride as they watched Yuu also become a dreamer like him, yet so unique from him as well.

Lucifer watched with pride as Yuu showed off their most recent invention, the aurora machine. The other angels watched in awe as colors danced across the air.

"Da! Da! Did you see?! It worked!" Yuu shouted excitedly as they leaped into Lucifer's arms.

"I think all of heaven is going to see it the aurora continues to stretch across the sky like that," Lucifer smiles as He and Yuu watch the rainbow light show.

"When we make our own Earth, can I fill its skies with Auroras?" Yuu asked with a hopeful smile.

"It will be our planet, so you can fill it with whatever we want," Lucifer smiles.

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

Soon Yuu's craft got more and more ambitious, but being the craft person they were. Most of these amazing inventions looked unassuming at a glance.

One day they created something special, thou to the naked eye it seemed like a regular ceramic jar. They excitedly hurried down to Lucifer's workroom...

.....

Only to see that Lucifer was not there, or anywhere.

"Da? Da!" Yuu called, but their voice echoed throughout the empty house.

Yuu sighed as they realized that Lucifer once more had run off to earth. Ever since the elder's completion of the blue planet, Lucifer would visit the planet. At first, it was every once in and while, then it turned 3 times a month, and before Yuu knew it, Lucifer would be gone for days on end every week. This went on for years

But when he was home, his mind was always elsewhere. Sadly for Yuu, they were too young to understand that their Father was love-struck. Yuu would see him eager at work in his workshop on the few days he remained at home.

"Da, check out what I made," Yuu said as they held up the ceramic jar.

"Oh, what a beautiful jar. Just put it on the workbench. I'll make sure to check it out later," Lucifer smiled as he tapped his hand on the table.

"What are you making Da?" Yuu asked as they floated a bit to get a better look.

"O-Oh it's umm Nothing!" Lucifer panicked slightly as he hid it from Yuu's sight.

Yuu only caught a glimpse, seeing something red.

"Is it for Earth? I thought the Elders said to leave it alone," Yuu pointed out innocently.

"Y-yeah, but I... Umm. It's. It's gonna be something amazing. They'll see," Lucifer said as he looked down at the red fruit with fondness. "She thinks so," He mumbles softly.

"Huh?" Yuu asked with a confused expression. "Da?"

"Yes, Bud/sweety?" Lucifer said, snapping out of his daydream.

"Can you promise me something?" Yuu asked nervesly.

"Of course, What is it?" Lucifer asked as he kneeled to Yuu's level.

“Promise me… You won’t do anything that will get you in trouble,” Yuu said. “Don’t do something that will put you in timeout.”

"Yuu I'm not going to get in-" "Please Da!" Yuu interrupted.

The Angel could see tears of worry begin well up in Yuu's star-filled eyes. Lucifer smiled slightly, slightly conflicted, but promised Yuu to avoid trouble.

“Alright, but it’s your bedtime isn’t it?” Lucifer smiled as he picked up Yuu.

“Ugh Da! No bedtime," Yuu laughs as they try to wiggle out of Lucifer's hold.

After a bit of a playful struggle, Lucifer managed to get his energetic tot into bed.

"There," Lucifer gasps as he catches his breath. combing his back into place.

"Were's wrinkle?" Yuu asked as they looked for their stuffed toy.

"Oh, we can't forget Wrinkle," Lucifer smiles as he picks up Wrinkle the Duck plushy. He smiles as he watches Yuu get comfy as they snuggle their duck plushy.

Lucifer leans down and gives one last warm hug, as Yuu did return.

"I love you Da," Yuu says sleepily. "No trouble stuff."

"No trouble stuff, and I love you too," Lucifer said with one last squeeze.

With a yawn sleep soon took over Yuu as Lucifer gave a kiss on the forehead. Turned off the lights he quietly slipped out of the room. When Yuu knew that Lucifer was mostly heading out, they pulled the drawstring from Wrinkles back. Activating the music box inside.

(Song: Waiting in the wings reprise. From Tangled)

🎶"Guess by now I oughta know my place. Do your humble duty with a smile on your face," Yuu sang quietly. 🎶"Father knows how much I love him. But he's always doing other things. So I'll keep waiting in the wings."🎶

Yuu slowly slid out of bed and floated over to the window to see Lucifer sneaking out. Most definitely looking to go to Earth once more.

🎶"I crave so much. And yet I kept on waiting. One glance, one touch. And I just kept on waiting,"🎶 Yuu continued as they watched Lucifer open a portal to Earth.

"🎶And when it came, it came with strings. So I kept waiting in the wings,🎶" Yuu sang as a tear ran down their cheek. It's so tough pretending it didn't hurt.

____________________________________________________

Continue? Angst enough yet 😏

Masterlist Here

#luficer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar #lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer x you #lucifer x y/n #lucifer morningstar x y/n #lucifer morningstar x you #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer hazbin hotel

205 notes · View notes

thetravelingmaster · 5 months

Text

Reasons Why you Should Check Out ROM

(readonlymind.com)

I've done a similar posts before for this site when I first joined up ROM as an author, but I feel like it deserves a little boost and some visibility out here as one of the many sites where one can enjoy erotic mind control literature. And also, because I'm a little selfish! I figure that if more people know about it, there's going to be more erotic stories to read.

Back when I joined, thanks to @arihi 's post on the matter during the 2018 tumblrapocalypse, I believe that there were barely 150 authors that published on the site, but as of today, that number has risen to 446. The list keeps growing and so does the variety of stories available.

Much like mcstories.com, the site is very easy to navigate and search through, even if you aren't 'logged in' as an author or reader. It offers us simple ways to search out and find the stories or authors we most want to read about. They've done an awesome job with the tag system so that regardless of which story you are reading, you can click on a tag to see what other stories that have the same theme.

It's a lot like a porn site actually, but for mind control themes.

And speaking of the tags...

The search function is rather advanced. Not only can you click a specific tag to see which stories have them, but you can also use the 'advanced search' to combine them and refine your search. You can add as many as you want to really find out if a specific theme is available. In fact you can also exclude tags to make sure you only get the stories you truly want.

Of course, when you do find a story you like, the author name will be a link to their page, which will list their stories as well as an introduction about themselves if they chose to add one. Since the site is all about open discussion, they accept self promotion so you can expect to find contact information on authors you like or even a link to other sites they post on.

Another very useful thing you'll find on their page, which I haven't seen on any other MC site before, is the 'story suggestion' link. There, you'll find all the stories the author recommends.

I've found that it's a great way to discover other authors because if you enjoy someone's writing, there's also a good chance you'll enjoy reading the stories they've enjoyed and recommended. Plus, if the author is so inclined, they can do more than just list off a bunch of stories, but also add a comment as to why they enjoyed it. I personally try to always add a little something to entice those that end up on my list.

Another feature I truly enjoy as an author is the fact that you can always go back an edit your stories because you always have full control of what is posted. Honestly, if I had discovered this before I opened up my own website, there would have been no need for me to do it. Although, I might have been a little disappointed about the fact I couldn't add the lovely images that inspire me so much... hehehe

But regardless, as an author that has many stories with many chapters, I've quickly discovered how easy it is to organize my stories because I can add a new chapter to an existing story, which is great because the reader doesn't have to look for previous chapters. Plus, you can add titles and even small descriptions to each, which will show up in the story index. In addition, you always get a word count for each chapter (or full story in the story list) so you know how long it should take you to get through it.

Speaking of readers, the site offers a little more than just a well organized and searchable site.

Well... If you register that is!

You don't have to post anything though, so registering is simply like creating an account. What you get for registering are a few fun bonuses like the ability to 'snap' a story you liked. Which is basically the equivalent of a 'like' here on tumblr. As an author, it's always a great inspiration to add chapters when I notice that one of my stories becomes popular and I know readers want more. It's also a great indicator for readers, as you well know!

Another bonus you get by registering is being able to comment on each chapter. I love the comments section because it not only gives me the ability to get feedback, but it also allows registered people to tag each other and reply to comments. As an added bonus, once you register, you get access to a notification page and if someone's replied or tagged you, you'll be notified there.

Speaking of notifications...

As an author, I get a bunch of notifications every time a user 'snaps' one of my stories, leaves a comment or recommends it to others. But as a reader, I can also 'follow' specific authors and be notified when ever they publish a new story or add a chapter to an existing one. But hey, that could be bothersome too so you ALSO have the option of just following ONE specific story so you are sure to know when the latest chapter drops. I'll admit, I use this option a lot!

Another option you may notice in the above image is the 'Read Later' option. I've used that as both a place to list off stories I like to read multiple times, as well as the obvious happenstance where I find a good one I want to read, but don't have the time.

As you ALSO may have notice, there are well known authors publishing their stories there too. @scifiscribbler, @jukeboxemcsa, @darthkyra, @ellaenchanting, @hypnoticharlequin and @skaetlett, to name a few you might know from tumblr.

If you can't get enough of reading MC stories, then this site will definitely help to feed your cravings. It's still relatively new and small when compared to others, but so far, it's proven its potential for growth.

The more the merrier

#news #ROM

262 notes · View notes

sunlightmurdock · 3 months

Text

Ceasefire | 1.2 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader (18+)

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

Synopsis: Bradley Bradshaw is in San Diego, summoned to Top Gun for the first time. Commander “Hyde” Simpson is his flight instructor, and she doesn’t have time for schoolboy crushes.

Warnings: ex-husband!beausimpson, divorce, age gap (rooster is somewhere between 26-28, reader is 38), power imbalance between instructor and student aviator, swearing, slight angst at the end, smut, handjobs, teasing, riding and creampies that are never addressed again, sub!rooster, bondage, probably very inaccurate flight info

…

Eleven weeks have never felt quite so long. At the same time, the memory of seeing Bradley Bradshaw staring at you with that dopey smile still feels so fresh. In one week, classes will officially be over. Rooster will no longer be your student. It’s almost pathetic, the way you’re already miserable at the thought of not seeing his face when you walk in every morning.

Still, in this moment, he’s still here and frowning down at his flight manual. It’s a storming afternoon and the air stuff got canceled, but with Beau’s mood swings lately, class remains to be in session. You’re perched on the edge of your desk, waiting patiently for whichever one of your star pupils can answer your question first.

“Minimum total hydroplaning speed of the main landing gear tires inflated to 250 pounds per square inch is 140 knots groundspeed and, for nose gear tires inflated to 150 per square inch, is 110 knots. Ma’am.” Flipping his toothpick in his mouth and offering you a dimpled grin that proves he knows he’s correct before you tell him, Jake Seresin is a fraction faster than Natasha Trace, who sits directly behind him. It’s not the hardest question. They all should know it. It’s just the rain outside that even made you think of it.

Offering Jake a small smile and a curt nod, you open your mouth to confirm that he is once again correct. To his left, you can’t help but glance across at your favourite thing to look at in this bleak little teaching room. Only, he isn’t smiling at you.

He’s staring down at his NATOPs, brows drawn together in something between frustration and confusion. Maybe embarrassment. You can’t pretend that it isn’t your initial impulse to discredit Jake to save Bradley’s feelings — but you don’t. That’s not your job, and it’s not what you’ve worked so hard to do.

“Good work, Hangman.” You tell him calmly. Bradley doesn’t dare look up from the page. Not once. Rain pours on outside and he spends the entire afternoon glaring at the manual like he wants to rip it to shreds.

As you dismiss the class, the thought looms of this all being over soon. With just one more week to go, there are lots of decisions hanging heavy. Maybe that’s what is getting to him.

“Rooster, hang back. I need to speak to you.”

Instantly, you can tell that this was not the right move. He turns towards you, his face sullen and his eyes dark. Your brows draw together, closing the door behind the last of your students and shutting him in there with you. Alone, he remains just as closed off.

“Are you okay? — You seem kind of—“ One step forwards, you reach out for him with a gentle touch, in a way that could still be mistaken for professionalism if someone were to walk in on the two of you. But, the second your hand grazes his bicep, he shrugs it off.

“I’m fine,” He mutters, gaze turned towards the floor. His usual sunny disposition seems to have gone away with the weather. Your eyes draw into a stern squint. “Am I dismissed?”

“Dis— Okay. No, Bradshaw,” You pretend that one didn’t sting, squaring your shoulders and inhaling slowly, stepping closer so that he has no choice but to see you finally standing in front of him. “No, you’re not dismissed. If you want to start acting like this is about rank, then that’s fine by me. I want you to talk to me either way.”

A muscle in his jaw ticks. His eyes dart towards the door, and then back to you. Finally, you watch him soften. His fingertips graze the inside of your palm, choosing to look down at that exchange rather than at you.

“Could you come over tonight?”

“On official Navy business?” You tease, poking softly at his ribs through the fabric of his flight suit. All you’re offered in return is a weak smile.

He links his fingers gently through yours. Slightly more incriminating, if you were to be walked in on. Still, it tugs at your heart strings as he sighs in resignation. “Please, Hyde?”

“Of course,” You tell him, giving his palm a quick squeeze. “I’ll be over just after seven.”

He has to wait for you to finish up your work before you’re able to leave. By the time you find him, he has already worked out and showered, and he has been sitting in his room wallowing for about forty minutes.

“Talk to me,” Even with his mood, there’s nothing he can do but drape his arms around your waist and tuck his head into the soft curve of your neck as you straddle his hips. “That’s what couples do.”

There’s a moment of silence, but not the same as earlier. His hands find the small of your back, tugging you closer as he sighs against your shoulder. You know that this time he’s just finding his words. It’s almost enough, having you here in his bedroom, draped around him, ready to listen.

In the meantime, you inhale the fresh scent of his cologne and turn your face towards his temple, pressing your lips to his damp curls.

“I’m just in my head about graduation,” He settles finally, curling his fingers around your hips, pulling back to look at you. “I knew I wasn’t going to graduate at the top of the class, but — I’m starting to wonder if I even deserve to be up there with all of them. You know?”

Your fingers are soft as they card through his hair, your expression much softer than it should be as his instructor. His fingers can’t sit still, pulling you closer, fiddling with the hem of your shirt.

“Of course you do,” The answer comes instantly, without hesitation. It’s followed by a chaste kiss. He turns his head and sighs again, readying to protest. “You knew the answer today. Doesn’t matter if you can find it in the book before Hangman or not, you knew it.”

“How’re you so sure that I did?” He challenges, frowning back at you. As much as he wants to believe you’re telling him this because you really believe in him, there’s still a voice in the back of his head telling him that you’re just trying to pacify him by giving him what he wants to hear.

You squint back at him, smoothing your fingers through his freshly washed curls.

“Because I know you better than I know anyone in that class, I’ve flown with you,” You tell him softly. He hums as you kiss his cheek. “I know your instincts up there are better than anyone else. Even if the answer isn’t in your head right away, I know that when you’re up there, you would know what to do.”

With that, he sighs and leans his head back. His fingers flex nervously around your hips. With his eyes closed, you used the moment to catch him by surprise. He sucks in a sharp breath as your palm dips between the two of you and grinds against his cock through his shorts.

“I trust you. Up there, and down here.”

His mouth twitches slightly, his eyes softening as he tries to pull back from you. “Hyde… come on, I don’t need you to baby me.”

You smile back at him, giving a curt nod of your head as you brush your palm more firmly against him. The way his throat contracts when he’s trying not to give in to you prickles along your skin, a rush of excitement.

He closes his eyes as you lean in and suck softly at the freckle on the left side of his neck. Your lips trail tantalizingly slowly along his throat until finally he shivers at the feeling of your breath against his earlobe, “Okay. You want me to make you prove it?”

“Make me?” He breathes out, fingers balling into the fabric of your T-shirt, brows knitting together. Already, his cock is standing to attention through the fabric of his shorts.

“That’s right,” It’s a gentle coo, so soft and sweet that Bradley really isn’t expecting it at all when you tug hard at his hair with your other hand. He inhales sharply, catching your hips and pulling you against him. His cheeks flush red, his eyes blown wide and desperate. You’ve never seen a man beg without even opening his mouth before. “Close your eyes for me.”

Another thick swallow, his throat squeezing around nothing as he closes his eyes, his dark lashes brushing against his cheek.

He’s so pliant, giving himself up to your more than capable touch. Lulling him into calmness that he’s powerless to fight against as your mouth kisses at his chest, pushing at the hem of his t-shirt and helping him out of it.

“Contrary to what you might have heard from Hangman, or from Pete Mitchell,” Bradley bites at the inside of his cheek as you lick at his freshly exposed chest, nipping at his pectoral. Even with his eyes closed, he’s red and embarrassed by how hard his nipples are in the chilled room. “Being a good aviator isn’t about confidence.”

If you’re going to keep talking as you head further south, he’s going to struggle to keep listening. His hands follow you as you slip out of his lap and settle between his knees, your tongue trailing along his middle.

“Instinct is everything.”

Bradley balls his hands into his bedsheets, lips parting just slightly as you suck firm kisses into his taut abdomen.

“Lay down.” You order, and without question, he obeys by scooting back and laying down flat with his legs still over the edge and bracketing you.

“Lay back for me.” You say sweetly, he obeys. To your right, you find the brown leather belt that you’ve been eyeing. Still looped through his jeans, discarded onto the chair in the corner of the room. Rooster fidgets in front of you, waiting to feel your touch again. “You trust me, right, Rooster?”

“Of course.” He exhales, his answer instant.

You push yourself up and he peeks an eye open, watching you free the belt and turn back towards him. Your smile grows as you find him even more red-faced than before, staring right at you.

“Lift your hands and hold your wrists together for me.”

“Really?” He whispers, his voice thick. You nod sweetly, nodding for him to shift further up the bed. He complies wordlessly, pushing himself to the top of the bed and presenting his wrists for you. His eyes darken and his brows raise, watching you climb up the bed with his belt in your hands.

“Don’t pull too hard, you’ll be sore.” You warn him, looping the belt around his wrists and through the wooden slats in his headboard. He gasps softly as you pull the leather tight and guide it through the buckle.

“Fucking hell…” He breathes out, his voice an excited whisper.

After the soft leather is secured, his wrists fastened to his headboard, you take a minute to sit back and observe. He’s watching you with such abject trust, desperation and excitement all at once. His stomach is quivering with each breath, stretched tight by the way his arms are raised.

Your tongue dips out to wet your bottom lip as your fingers reach for him, walking along the length of his thigh. Leaning over him again, you dip forwards and press a soft kiss to his lips.

“What do you want?”

“I want you to be naked.” Rooster rushes out, shifting uncomfortably and glancing towards his tied hands. When his eyes flicker back to you, he breaks into a bashful smile. Your lips twitch, looking back at him.

“Okay,” You agree sweetly, reaching for the bottom of your t-shirt. He watches the way your eyes darken, filling with mischief as you pull it up just enough to expose the soft skin of your stomach, then hold it there. “You’re at a cruise altitude of 35,000 feet, how do you know how to calculate your descent?”

Three miles per distance per thousand feet in altitude. Your mouth twitches watching him do the math in his head while staring at the sliver of exposed skin under your shirt.

“35,000 minus the last three zeroes — uh, thirty-five. Thirty-five multiplied by three… a hundred and five.” You narrow your eyes quizzically as he stumbles through the math, knowing that it comes more easily to him than he’s able to tell you. You’ve not seen him personally land on a carrier, but you know he can. You know that he’s done it a hundred times over. “You’d start the descent 105 nautical miles from the destination, maintaining a speed of 300 Knots-Indicated air speed… and a descent rate of 1,500 to 2,000 feet per minute, with thrust set at idle.”

You smile back at him, peeling your shirt up and over your head. He exhales, eyes falling down to the black bra covering your tits. Forgetting himself for a moment, he moves to sit, the buckle of his belt knocking into the woods and reminding him of his predicament.

“Feet per minute,” You continue, reaching for your own belt, slipping the leather from the buckle and pausing. “If you land on the carrier right, how does the hornet hit the deck?”

“800 feet per minute.” He exhales. Your mouth twists into a grin as you pop open your belt buckle.

By the time that he has rid you of your clothes, his answers are especially fast and you’ve noticed that his wrists are growing red under the hold of the leather.

Standing on your knees, you crawl your way up your, now completely naked, boyfriend and turn. Straddling his abdomen, your naked core sits just out of his reach. His mouth falls open and a dismayed, needy sound slips out.

Having freed him of his own shorts and boxers just moment before, his cock is red and swollen, angry from the lack of attention. Settling yourself with a sly wiggle of your hips, you take his cock in both of your hands and cover as much as you can with your mouth.

Soaking his length with a generous amount of saliva, you hear his head fall back and hit the headboard as your hands start to stroke him. Long strides coat his shaft in spit, your hands twisting loosely left from right. From this way, the way you’re straddling him, you’ve got a front-row view to the way his thighs have started to tremble.

Furthering his dismay, he has a front-row seat to your soaked pussy, inches from his face, but just out of reach. Your hands are steady, just as calm and skilled as they are when you’re in the cockpit. Not too fast, just guiding him steadily closer to his orgasm. Letting your spit soak him, adding more to the mix, squeezing him firmly every now and again. Craning your neck so that you can lick and suck softly at his balls. His moans are strangled, agonizingly desperate from behind you.

When you finally decide to grace him with a firmer, faster touch, his moans are so jagged and eager that you know Hangman and Coyote must be able to hear him. The heels of his feet press into the mattress, his hips bucking eagerly into your hands.

He tugs hard at his restraints and winces behind you. With each delighted sound from your lips as they’re wrapped around him, his own voice is growing more and more strained. For the life of him, he just can’t keep still. He’s putty in your hands. This wouldn’t be the first time he has made a mess all over your hands, but today, that isn’t the plan.

“Hyde, don’t — please don’t — I’m so fucking close…”

You hum, hands already withdrawn. He writhes under you as you turn to face him.

“You can hold on a little longer for me, right baby?”

His voice is getting more strained as you squeeze your hands around his twitching cock and just as he is about to erupt you retract your hands leaving his chest huffing in frustration and near euphoria.

You shift, straddling his hips. His eyes go wide and round, lips parted as you situate yourself right over him and sink down just barely. Your soaked core just grazes him as you rock back and forth softly. His eyes follow the curve of your waist, the slight movement of your tits as you taunt him.

“Can wait a little longer for me, right?”

“Oh, fuck.” Rooster whimpers.

You lower yourself gently onto him, palms braced against his shivering chest as his tip notches into you. He gasps and turns his head towards the pillow, pulling hard at the restraint.

You lean all the way forwards, your naked tits pushing against his chest, your lips mouthing softly at his neck. “It’s okay, I’m gonna take care of you.”

Finally, he’s fully sheathed into you, and he sighs out in relief, dropping his head forwards to rest against the curve of your shoulders.

“I still wanna see you cum,” He pants out, groaning softly as you lift up and sink slowly back down on him, digging his heels into the mattress. “If I can’t do it, I still wanna see it.”

Your mouth twitches at the thought.

“Yeah, you want to watch me get off?” You grin, kissing across his cheek and finally at his mouth. He whines softly, watching you rocking your hips into his gently, grinding yourself into him.

“You have to stop talking or I’m gonna cum.” He mutters with a stiff shake of his head, his eyes flickering up to you as you giggle above him. You purse your lips and lean forwards, pressing a sweet kiss to the tip of his nose and then sit back.

He watches, every muscle in his chest and arms constricting as he watches you sit back on his thighs, all full of him, lifting your fingers and miming a zip across your lips, and then a lock at the corner of your mouth. Finally, even though all of his focus is on trying not to bust, his lips stretch into an amused grin.

You settle back into the rhythm of bouncing on him, bracing one hand back against his thigh as the other dips between your own legs.

The angle is just right, your orgasm ebbs closer but remains just out of reach as he watches helplessly, dazed by the glow of you.

From the first day he saw you, he’d never imagined he would be as lucky as to be at your mercy like this. The thought dawns him and his hips twitch, snapping up to meet yours.

“Christ— wait, slow down, wait— oh, fuck.”

You gasp sharply as he drives himself into you just once more from below before he’s spilling hot and fast into you, groaning and gasping out loud with little regard for who might hear him.

His deep groans are music to your ears as your fingers work feverishly at your clit to keep up. His mouth hangs open, still buried inside of you as he watches you come apart in front of him, your eyes closed and your chest heaving, his name on the tip of your tongue.

Finally, you collapse forwards against his chest, lifting off of him and kissing at his neck.

“Fuck…” He breathes out.

“You feel better?” You whisper, catching your breath as your nails rake along his stomach. He hums in response, kissing softly at your temple.

He sighs in relief as you pull the belt apart and free his wrists, stretching out his arms and rubbing at the reddened skin.

“I can’t stay, Taylor’s getting dropped off home at nine.” You kiss his mouth softly, already starting to push off of his chest. He just groans and rolls onto his front, disgruntled by the idea of not having you in his bed tonight. “I’ll see you tomorrow at six?”

“Right. What should I wear?”

“A little more than you’re wearing now, preferably.”

He chuckles tiredly and considers grabbing his boxers, opting to instead just press his face into his pillow as he listens to you getting dressed again.

“Should I bring them like… a gift or something?”

“It’s a little early for bribery.”

He sighs and sits up swiftly, resting his elbows on his knees, his mouth creasing into a worried frown. “What are we going to do if they don’t like me?”

Really, there’s only one answer; you’d never put him before your kids and he knows that.

Pulling your shirt down over your body, there’s only one thing to do. You lean forwards and kiss his lips tenderly. “They’ll love you.”

Once you convince him to get dressed again, Bradley walks you down to your car. Jake and Coyote say their greetings and goodbyes swiftly and politely, not making you stop for small talk.

Then, as Rooster heads back upstairs with a reddened face and even more reddened wrists, they meet him in the living room, beaming.

”Don’t start.” He groans, trying to dismiss them and head back to his room before the ridicule starts. It’s a little late for that. It’s been a little late for that since they heard Rooster practically crying your name twenty minutes earlier.

As you return home to reunite with your children, you’re greeted with an onslaught of texts about how — to quote — ‘those idiots heard everything’. It should bother you, but the thought of Bradley all red-faced and squirming at their comments just makes you chuckle.

Meeting at a neutral place always seemed like the best option, until you’re sitting in the parking lot, staring at your kids in the backseat — feeling like you’re introducing cats. Well, it has been quite some time since your children got over their interest in scratching and biting, so hopefully this will go smoother than that.

”How are you guys feeling?” You ask them, turning in your seat finally. Dylan can see the worry on your face. Your brows are raised, your eyes are round and fleeting between them each, lips pursed.

”Yeah, fine, mom.” He offers you a polite, sincere smile. It’s the best that he has to give. He knows this means something big to you. He knows that you’ve started singing in the kitchen again, and reading Taylor the stories with the voices, laughing with him until you’re doubled over and crying.

”Do you think he likes cats better or dogs?” Taylor perks up, tucking her feet up onto the seat and quirking her head at you. Your lips twitch as your son rolls his eyes at her.

“You can ask him.” You decide, and she seems to accept this as good enough of an answer. She settles back in her booster seat, crosses her arms across her little knit sweater and smiles back at you. Poor Rooster doesn’t have a clue what he’s in for with this little chatterbox — but you know he’ll be glad to not have to sit in silence.

A beat passes as you look between their faces. They both smile back at you, for different reasons entirely.

“Okay, are we ready to go inside?”

After quick agreement, Taylor watches her shoes cast purple neon shadows across the puddles, flashing bright with each step as your heels clack across the ground ahead of her. A hand lands on her shoulder, guiding her along and making sure that she keeps up.

Swiftly, she looks up at her big brother, frowning curiously at him, ”So, do we have to call him Dad too?”

”Rooster.” You breathe out, lips stretching into a smile as you spot him walking over from his truck. He looks right past you as you wrap your arms around his neck. About five paces back, your kids are trailing you, deep in conversation. About him, no doubt.

Suddenly, his attention snaps back to you, his eyes going wide as you kiss his cheek. He untangles himself from you, aggressively platonic for a man who was begging to hold you yesterday.

“Hi.”

”Don’t be weird, they’re children, not the FBI.” You whisper to him, turning quickly as you hear the two of them approaching this. “Guys, this is Bradley. Bradley, this is my daughter, Taylor, and my son, Dylan.”

”Hello.” Bradley stiffens.

“Hey.” Dylan tries.

“You’re pretty tall. Women like that.” It would seem that you’re all caught off guard by your daughter’s comment. Luckily, it’s just enough of a surprise to make Bradley’s tight-lipped smile break into a wide-stretching grin.

He sits opposite her at the table, Dylan by his side and you opposite Dylan. She spent the afternoon with your mother and it would seem, the two of them spent their time preparing questions.

”So—“ Dylan manages to interrupt, earning himself a stern glare from the little girl who was just about to get into the favourite colours segment of her interview. Bradley turns his head and looks at your son. “What team do you follow?”

Bradley shoots a glance over at you, knowing full well that your son has been raised to be a die hard 49ers fan. He looks back to the thirteen year old and inhales— he can’t pretend to like that team, he just can’t do it—

“The Eagles.” He rushes out.

“Huh.” Dylan quirks an eyebrow, turns his head and shoots you a look. He smirks softly, bringing the rim of his Pepsi glass to his mouth. “And… how’s that working out for ya, big guy?”

Bradley’s mouth falls slack, and he looks quickly across the table for support, finding nothing but you smirking back at him and Taylor giggling in response.

“Hey, buddy, I’ll have you know—“ And once again, that seems to do the trick. That’s the straw, right before the appetizers come out, that gets Bradley really talking, and after that it just doesn’t stop.

Taylor quickly gets him onto the conversation of cats versus dogs — he seems to pass her test. Bradley turns the conversation on you, and winds up grinning ear to ear with the insight of how your children perceive you to be, how they love you. You turn the conversation on Bradley, and reveal to the children that he not only enjoys rum and raisin flavoured ice-cream, but that it’s his favourite.

The betrayal on his face after that one will keep you laughing for weeks to come. It’s almost enough for the children to change their minds about him, but he quickly gets things back on track by revealing that he once met the guy who plays Captain America on a flight.

That wins him some serious brownie points.

You know that, just as easily as he had with you, he had won them over.

He grins at you as he settles the bill — despite your insistence to split it, his nerves seeming to have finally calmed.

“Mom, why do you call him Bradley when his work name is Rooster?” Taylor asks, slipping her hand into you palm as you head for the exit.

“Because we aren’t at work right now.” You answer with a shrug, checking over your shoulder to see Rooster talking with Dylan about something behind you.

“Can I call him Rooster?” She asks, peering up at you.

“If he says you can.”

“Bradley?” She cranes her neck as she calls back to him, capturing his attention instantly. “Can I call you Rooster?”

“Sure. Either works.” He shrugs, tucking his wallet back into the pocket of his jeans, walking to catch up with the two of you.

She looks quickly back up to you, approval plastered across her little face. She gives your hand a quick squeeze and smiles.

…

Tags: @cherrycola27 @mak-32 @khaylin27 @stoncms @shanimallina87 @cool-ultra-nerd @angelmavmurdock @gingerbreadandpaper @mizzzpink @whisperofsong @throwinsauce @perpetuelledaydreaming @n3ssm0nique @thedroneranger @abaker74 @marantha @ghxst-heart @diamond-3 @shawnsblue

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #miles teller #bradley bradshaw smut #rooster bradshaw imagine #rooster x you #top gun smut #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader

152 notes · View notes

storiesbyrhi · 18 days

Text

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

Warnings: canon typical violence, horror genre typical violence/some infrequent gore, swearing, animal death, no beta, death in childbirth (mentioned, not described), abusive parents, suicide, spiders/bugs, grief/mourning; light smut; warnings updated each chapter.

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

Chapter Summary: You are wide awake. 2340 words.

1986

Every day Eddie watched the jar. He watched how the moon water moved, alive and with a viscosity different from regular water. He watched the apple slices dry and the sprigs of lavender go stiff. He thought if he watched closely enough, he’d see the magic working, but he never caught a glimmer of craft.

When it was time, you let him plant the enchanted seed in the new coven neighbourhood. Your home would grow furthest out, close to the shade of the woods. A spell later, you were traveling back to Forest Hills to begin packing the trailer up.

It had been months since you’d moved in, therefore you had accumulated a lot of items.

“Do you need all of these?” Eddie asked, holding up one of five shoeboxes, all packed with feathers you had found. “And is this a normal amount of feathers to find? What is wrong with the birds in Hawkins?”

“Yes and no and a lot. I told you that if you are gonna help, you can’t question every single thing you pick up,”

“I’m doing no such thing,” he rebutted.

“Eddie, you told me to cull my jar collection,”

“I stand by it. There are too many. You can collect more,”

“I use them! Frequently! And I don’t just keep any jar. All the ones I have are, like, uniquely shaped or extra sturdy!” you whined. “Asking a witch to not collect jars is just…” You shook your head, not able to find the words to express the atrocity.

Eddie smiled at you softly. “Perhaps I am not the best helper,” he conceded. “Perhaps my time would be better spent doing something else,”

“Something else like use your vampire speed to clean the bathroom, or something else like turn into a bat and sleep?”

An hour later, Eddie was asleep in one of the boxes containing clothes, and you were wrapping more empty jars in bubble wrap.

…

A monument to witchcraft and love. That’s what Eddie thought when he saw the house. It had the glorious drama of Ev’s Victorian home and the softness of the other witches’ cottages. Expansive stained glass windows. Detailed architraves, the wood so dark it appeared black. Red brick. A single-story structure, but the dome of a conservatory was visible over the roof. It extended back into the woods, settling into the landscape as if it had always been there.

Eddie thought back to all the places he had lived in. The house his father’s rage felt the brunt of as much as he did. The farm he came into adulthood on. The colony caves. The cold and lonely hotel rooms. The trees above Forest Hills. He’d never had a home, apart from your arms, but there it was. Real and in front of him.

The sun was setting over the valley as Eddie stood before the house. You’d seen it early that day, doing your final checks before okaying the move. It was your magic the house grew from, so naturally you were less awestruck by it. The floorplan and aesthetic had been born in your mind. Still, it was a beautiful thing.

“Think it will do?” you asked Eddie, coming to stand beside him.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from it. “It’s…” How many different words were there for ‘home,’ he wondered. What language could fully communicate the depth of emotion?

“Enchanted seeds create homes, not houses,” you told him as you walked towards the front door. “Come and see.”

Eddie followed, almost expecting something to happen as he crossed the front door threshold. Once inside, Eddie clenched his jaw. It was more perfect than he could have anticipated.

The furniture was plush and comfortable, an eclectic mix of antique pieces and modern amenities. Bookshelves stood tall and waiting, ready for the library to arrive. Potted ivy trailed up and around curtain railings and along the walls.

“You never got to see my place in the Catskills. A lot of the furniture comes from there. The rest comes from the seed… It’s the kind of magic that makes me wish we could study it, you know? I want to know the science of it. How does it work?”

“It seems to me that part of the power of magic is in the unknowing,” Eddie replied, as wise as any of the Witches Who Came Before.

“It does appear to be the case,” you agreed.

For a while, you let Eddie wander aimlessly through the house.

He marvelled at the bath, huge and round, like a pond and definitely big enough for two. A huge wardrobe door that opened into a secret library. The conservatory full of thriving plants, flowers, herbs, and other living things Eddie did not have a word for. Every window a different shape but never square. Strange detailing like cat shaped doorknobs and pink quartz basins.

Eventually, Eddie sat on the end of the huge bed, its four posts grand and its linen crisp. He looked over at you and held out his hands.

“Come.”

You walked to him, taking his hands, and standing between his legs. Eddie looked up at you with those sparkling brown eyes, the adoration radiating from him.

“It’s an irrational idea, this fear I have that I’m dreaming. That I am still cursed, haunting this town until the end of time. But a vampire cannot dream. The cursed cannot dream. But still…”

Gently, you let go of Eddie’s hands and leaned into him, snaking your fingers into his hair as he pressed himself into your body, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“You are wide awake. Alive… kind of… But definitely here. With me. In our home. Soon-to-be, with our friends. Our family. And just in time for Halloween.”

He purred a happy sound, nodding into you. “A witch’s favourite holiday?” he hazarded a guess.

“Hmm, not all of us. Most of the witches I’ve known tended to find more obscure holidays to worship at the altar of. New Years is a big one, too. Alas, I am but a cliché All Hallows witch,”

“With much respect, I see that,” Eddie said. You laughed, shrugged. He looked up at you again. “You did fall in love with a vampire, after all.”

…

Far away from the rest of the world, you and Eddie spent almost a week settling into the new house. Grimoires were catalogued into one of the three library rooms. Dandelion puffs were jarred and shelved. Every trinket found its home.

Eddie tested the rainbow light that flooded the rooms, discovering that in the magic there was safety. Sunlight that filtered through the windows did not burn him. He could be free and at ease.

You explained to Eddie the importance of representing the elements within the home. Earth in the plants, wooden carpentry, and the grounding crystals. Fire in the candles, ever-burning incense, and roaring fireplaces that only ever emitted the exact level of heat you wanted. (“In summer, the flames burn cold,” you told Eddie and watched his smile grow.) Water in the mirrors, seashells, and small fountains found in the glasshouse room. Lastly, air in the wind chimes, feathers, and windows that could remain open without upsetting the temperature inside.

During the day, you began work on your garden, creating flower beds in the shape of pentagrams and sewing seeds. Borage for the butterflies and bees, primrose �� I can’t live without you; angelica in case you need to break any future hexes; and yarrow, amaryllis, and polypodies.

One evening, just before sunset, you found Eddie rummaging through the apothecary pantry. As you entered the room, his manic smile told you he’d had an idea.

“What’s the story, morning glory?” you asked him, perching on a stool.

Eddie sunk to his knees and shrugged. “The fires are out… The Shire is no longer burning,”

“The Shire being… Hawkins?”

“Yes. And us. We’ve sailed to the Undying Lands,”

“You’re really making Tolkien your whole personality, huh?” you joked.

Eddie smiled up at you. “Until the next book… But what I’m saying is, now that we do not have a battle to prepare for. No conflict upon the horizon. What do we do with all of eternity?”

“Oh… My plan was to eat a lot of Meg’s cinnamon rolls… Try to get Steve Harrington to stop haunting Mel… Maybe work on a spell to make myself teeny tiny so I can ride around on you when you’re a bat…”

“Wait, seriously?”

You gave him a sly smile. “Maybe,”

“Well, I would love that… But, I was thinking a little more introspectively. Back to things we have thought about before. Like, why I am the way that I am… What that means…” He ran a finger along the leaves of the mimosa pudica plant beside him. The leaves felt his touch, curled inwards on themselves. It was one of Eddie’s favourites, the way it reacted to the world around it.

“Any new insights?” you asked softy.

“No… But… If I believe in you and in your magic and the way you make sense of the world… then I… I have to do something,”

“Do something?”

“We get back what we give, right?”

“Yeah,” you agreed. “It’s not always obvious or direct. Or timely. Or even equally fair… But, yeah… There is definitely something like the concept of karma at play. And even if there isn’t, living as if there is can only be a good thing,”

“Then I must show more grace… and gratitude… Even if I am a monster, maybe especially because I am… I can give goodness too.”

Without thinking, you slid off the stool and joined Eddie on the floor. “You already do. You don’t owe the world anything.”

Eddie smiled, first a small soft thing, almost sad, but then it twisted into something else. Ear-to-ear and full of teeth. “I owe it more than one life,”

“But if we count all the lives you have saved. Both by killing what plagued this town, and by preventing deaths at the hands of bad people-”

“Morality cannot be simple addition and subtraction. There is no math that can quantify goodness or righteousness. You know that,” Eddie cut in. He watched your face, saw the pensiveness blossom across it. “Don’t worry, my little witch, my plan is not as life-or-death as this all makes it seem… I just want to do something good for your friends,”

“Your friends,” you corrected quickly. “They’ll be your friends too. Your family. You’re part of this coven.”

Eddie reached out to cup your face in his hands. “Your coven is yours. But I will take the friendship. I have years of loneliness to make up for,”

“Then what-”

He cut you off again, this time with a kiss. You brought your hands up to his shoulders, draping your arms around his neck. Eddie pulled you into his lap and you curled into him like the leaves of the mimosa.

His mouth kissed and sucked at your neck between sentence fragments. “I’m-” kiss “going-” kiss “to plant-” lick “them-” kiss “flowers.” His punctuation a kiss that wanted to be a bite.

You were hardly listening to his words. His words and ideas and introspective musings could all wait.

Eddie laid you down on the floor, the smell of the oak still new. You arched your back and pulled him down by his collar.

“Bed,” you mumbled into his mouth.

“Why build a house if we’re not gonna use it,” he answered.

One hand splayed next to your head to keep him up, the other tickling its way under the hem of your skirt and up your thigh.

“Besides,” Eddie said. “Doesn’t feel like you can wait.” He was sliding your underwear off, throwing them across the room. He rested a hand on you, sliding an index finger through your slickness.

“I can’t,” you agreed, breathy and impatient. “Now. I want you now.”

Eddie didn’t have to be asked twice. With his pants still hanging from an ankle, he was fast to set up and slow on approach. You felt the tip of him follow the path made by his hand, gathering wetness, and shooting electricity through your body.

You melted into jelly beneath him, bliss written all over your face. Eddie loved you like this, pliable and prone to tears of ecstasy.

He held himself back, keeping his pace slow and steady. His vampire muscles screamed to go faster, to rail you into next week, but he liked pulling you apart. Liked how you unconsciously uttered strings of words like ‘full’ and ‘please’ and ‘can’t.’ Liked when you clawed at him to come closer, bit down on his shoulder.

“I love you,” he told you, mouth on your ear, tongue licking. “So. Fucking. Much.”

There was a seemingly endless amount of ways Eddie had learned could make you cum. Talking to you was a favourite for you both.

“You’re so perfect, so perfect… You feel so perfect… You’re so warm and soft and I… I want to eat you whole…”

Your response was in the pooling tears and the nodding and the slack jaw. The begging, “Please. Please.”

“I love you. I love you. I love you.” It was all it took. Your orgasm exploded moments before his. Eddie’s thrusting getting harder and faster for the few seconds he took to follow you. He had to grind his teeth together to stop himself from ripping into your neck.

You kept your eyes closed, not aware of your surroundings. When you felt Eddie’s arms slide beneath you, you smiled and hummed. He carried you to your new bed, cleaning your skin with a warm washcloth before curling himself in behind you.

With the last of your day’s energy, you tangled your fingers through his, falling asleep happily.

As Eddie listened to your breathing find its mellow night rhythm, he saw a vision of you in his mind. Hands full of flowers and foliage. A coven of audience. Glorious and beaming.

End Note: I made a small Pinterest board with inspo for their house - click here to view.

I hope you are all as well as any of us can be at a time like this. I hope this story continues to provide comfort, escapism, and fuel for daydreams. xo Rhi

Fic Taglist: @paranoidmunson @idkidknemore @paprikaquinn @stardustworlds @loz-brooke @wyverntatty @vintagehellfire @dark-academia-slut @scarletwitchwhore @becks1002 @mrsdollardog @heyndrix @luceneraium @rosaline-black @devilinthepalemoonlite @goldencherriess @iamwhisperingstars @wiltedwonderland @blueywrites @breezybeesposts @jadehowlettthewolf @spikesvamp79 @foreveranexpatsposts @tortoiseshellspells @wingedpeachjudgegiant @stardustmunson @live-love-be-unique @fangirling-4-ever @reanimated-alice @b-irock @gh0stlybunnie @myown-worstenemy-2003 @woozzz @cyberxlust @hiscrimsonangel @buckysbarne @m00nlight101 @word-wytch @spicysix @briasnow-blog @goth-cowgirl-03 @moviefreak1205 @pastel-pillows

All Eddie Taglist: @solomons-finest-rum @ruinedbythehobbit @sweetpeapod @thorfemmes @corrodedhawkins @grungegrrrl @lilzabob @averagemisfit03 @ches-86 @ilovecupcakesandtea @onehotgreasymechanic @hazydespair @mel-the-fangirl @eddies-hid3out @siren-lungs @aheadfullofsteverogers @hiscrimsonangel @dashingdeb16 @cultish-corner

#Mine #Burning Yarrow #Eddie Munson #Vampire!Eddie Munson #Bat!Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie Munson x You #Eddie Munson/Reader #Eddie Munson/You

87 notes · View notes

whatdoeseverybodywant · 3 months

Text

You're the Only Girl for Me - Chapter 14

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS

Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤

All OC Characters belong to me

Series Masterlist

Taglist: @christinabae @southerngirl41 @reci1996 @jeyusos-girl @jeyusosgirl @melaninsugababy @bemybabiibish @jstarr86 @baconeggndcheez @nbanenefrmdao @purplehairgawdess @arination99 @m3llowww @alyyaanna @harmshake @jeysbae @empressdede @theninthwonder @badbitchcentralinc @bluesole16 @leaderofthebadbitchbrigade @bebesobrielo @venusesworld @babysyhsyh

if your name is bold, tumblr won’t let me tag you

February 6th 2021

AIRIELLEJONES

liked by: trinity_fatu , raymondwwe and 193,000 others

AirielleJones: could u imagine fumbling me? ✌🏽💋

view all comments:

user:@ uceyjucey damn bro how u fumble?

user: so now we got a chance

uceyjucey: can't fumble something thats still mine.

yasmine_jones: oop user: @ uceyjucey so yall still together? uceyjucey: most def.

raymondwwe: wouldn't even dream of fumbling you (❤️ by author)

yasmine_jones: double oop trinity_fatu: @yasmine_jones : girlll..... lol

Yasmine shook her head with a slight smirk on her face as she put her phone down and looked at Airielle. “You better stop playing with that man.” Airielle shrugged.

“Girl you gon’ make that man pop a blood vessel” Trinity said as the three of them watched Airielle’s phone light up again with another phone call from Josh that she let go to voicemail.

“Listen, he lied and I'm supposed to be okay with it.” Airiell rolled her eyes and took a sip of her wine. She, Trinity and Yasmine were having a girls night and decided to visit one of Airielle’s favorite restaurants in Pensacola.

“Girl.” Trinity stressed. “I like you a whole lot, so i’m not saying this because he’s my brother-in-law but, from what I can remember they been separated since August right before the twins birthday.” Airielle sighed and cut her eyes at Trinity. “Don’t let Tracy get in your head, I don’t know what her goal was but what she did was weird as hell.” Yas nodded in agreement.

“I mean, why would he have you around his ex-wife if he was lying about something like that?” Airielle sighed and looked down at her plate knowing they were right.

“Okay so let's say when you got with Jon and his ex said some shit like that and his response was ‘let me explain’ how would have you reacted?” Trinity bit her lip as she thought about the question.

“Honestly, I probably would have reacted the same way you are, but I would also hear him out to see what he had to say.” Airielle let out a deep sigh and decided to change the topic. She was tired of talking about Josh.

After the three girls finished eating, they were headed out to the parking lot, towards Airielle’s Jeep when something - or someone stopped them. The three of them stopped in the tracks at the sight of Josh leaning against the drivers side door, staring directly at them.

Trin and Yasmine shared a knowing glance before Yas took the keys out of Airielle’s hands. “We’ll be in the car.” She said and smiled at Josh before she and Trinity entered the car giggling. Airielle rolled her eyes at the two of them before crossing her arms over her chest.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, scoffing as Josh’s eyes traveled along her body before he finally made eye contact with her.

“If you didn’t want me to find you, you shoulda waited until you got home to post those pictures.” She rolled her eyes again in response. “You been ignoring all my calls and messages -”

“So you decide to stalk me and block me from entering my vehicle.” She cut him off with a scoff and another eye roll. Josh chuckled and stepped away from the door.

“If you wanna leave, go ahead.” He smirked when she made no move to enter the car. He nodded his head towards his F-150 that was parked right next to her car. “Get in.” When she didn’t move he sighed. “We ain’t goin’ nowhere. I just wanna talk Airi.” Airielle nodded and muttered a quiet ‘thank you’ when he opened the passenger door for her.

When he got in the car he said nothing for a minute or two, he just sat there admiring her beauty. He cleared his throat and reached into the backseat pulling out a manilla envelope that had JAMES V. FATU - DIVORCE PROCEEDINGS written on the front. “I told you when we first started dating that I was never gon lie to you or do any of that fuck shit your ex did.” He started, keeping his eyes on her. “I wanted to explain why Tracy said that shit bout done slapped the taste out my mouth and stormed off.”

Airielle looked down at her lap and he grabbed her chin, making her look back at him. “Early October, we tried to work things out, you know for the sake of our children but I found out she was also seeing this other guy that she’d been seeing since before the separation. So I dipped. I told her she could have the house and I moved back down here with my brother and Trin and then I met you. There was no two-timing involved. All the proof is in that envelope just look at it. I wouldn’t lie to you Airielle.”

February 12th 2021 - Tropicana Field

AIRIELLEJONES

liked by raymondwwe, trinity_fatu and 192,000 others

AirielleJones: 🖤

comments on this post have been disabled

Airielle had been avoiding Josh since he popped up on her at the restaurant last Saturday. She had read everything in the envelope and saw that he actually wasn’t lying about he and Tracy not being together around the time he and Airielle went on their first date, so she was happy about that.

The problem now was.. the problem was still Tracy. Airielle thought she was okay with Josh having an ex-wife but everything that went down last week proved that she was not ready to deal with any of that.

When she was with Christopher, his baby mom was a godsend and never gave Airielle any problems and Airielle knew if she continued her relationship with Josh, Tracy would be the complete opposite and she was certain that was something she did not want to deal with at all.

She groaned as her phone went off again, knowing it wasn’t anybody but Josh.

Airielle smiled at the text message despite how she was feeling. She needed to make a decision about her relationship with Josh and she needed to do it ASAP.

I'm happy with the direction i'm going w/ this story. I hope you all are too. ❤️

Can't believe I was able to get two chapters posted back to back 🤭

Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤

95 notes · View notes

owlmaya · 5 months

Text

svsss fans please please please read the devil venerable also wants to know if you haven’t already, i just binge read it all in 3 days bcs i’s only 80 chapters and SO good

why i think svsss fans (like me) will enjoy it:

• it’s satire/makes fun of tropes (subversive!), very refreshing characters and story

• great female cast (the plot actually revolves around a female character, you will grow to love her), girls girl kind of novel, you will at points ship f/f ships more than the main cp (none are canon, unfortunately)

• the main couple is kind of like moshang (demon sect leader and his right hand man) but if sqh was actually lbg? (YHJ lets a man be skinned and wears his skin as part of his revenge plan)

• it’s also a transmigration novel, except the book is the transmigrator

• very oblivious main cp (but it’s obvious how much they care about each other)

• Zhongli Qian (nothing more to add, find out for yourself)

a little heads up:

the romance between the main cp (Wenren È and Yin Hanjiang) is – for the most part – not the main focus of the plot (but they do have great moments throughout and i love how their relationship develops)

also! some people might find the dynamic somewhat problematic, because WRE is about 200 years older and he saved a 5yo YHJ and „raised” him (= left him on his own for 10 years?), but they never have any sort of father/son relationship, plus it takes WRE about 150 years to actually fall in love with YHJ, but just keep all that in mind

that’s all, i just need more people to know about it, because it’s all i can think about right now

#danmei #danmei recs #svsss #the devil venerable also wants to know #魔尊也想知道 #wenrene #yin hanjiang #mxtx

125 notes · View notes

pastafossa · 4 months

Text

Pet loss below the cut.

Cato was my cat. That's the long and short of it.

From the first night I had him when he curled up against my neck to fall asleep with me, to his final night when he curled up on my chest to try and comfort me, there is not a single day I've been home that I haven't had my kitten chow with me. He was my tiny shadow, always trotting along after me or singing at me from around the house with that long Siamese wail or bringing me scores of socks he hid god knows where (although once he brought me an entire umbrella instead, which he was understandably proud of). He was by my pillow every night cuddled up against my arm, and we fit together like two puzzle pieces, like that little crook in my arm was designed for him, for his exact shape and size. He was with me through my health issues, through high school and college, through moving states, through covid, through tears, through the loss of other pets. He was there as I really learned to write, and there is not a single chapter of TRT that was written without his presence for at least a section of it even if it meant I had to stop editing or writing for a bit and just stare at the words instead because he wanted to be held NOW. And he even managed to hold off the cancer just long enough to walk with me through mom's hospital stay and her return home. I was his person, and he was my soul cat, a piece of me.

I was so torn last night. He was clearly in pain, dehydrated, wobbly, confused and restless, and couldn't get to the litter box. It had been really clear this week the moment was coming, that the cancer was going to take him soon. I'd had this big plan, to have it all happen at home in peace. He hated the vet, hated the stress, but it happened so fast, and I just... knew he couldn't wait for the vet's office to open so she could come here. He'd chosen his time and it was now.

I held him at the emergency vet when they gave him the sedative. I managed to choke out that silly singing tone that always made him happy, as I called him every last nickname he knew: my Cato-wato kitten chow, my Cato kins, my little Mr. meow meow, my sweet happy baby kitty. I made sure all he could see with those big beautiful blue eyes of his was me, as I petted his soft little ears and scratched his neck just the way he liked. And he actually managed to purr for me. He purred as he slipped away and the lights went out, and it was the last sound I ever got to hear from him.

I already miss you so, so much, my sweet old kitty, my Cato kitten chow. I'm sorry it couldn't be at home. But thank you for purring for me. Thank you for spending your journey with me. Thank you for the love you gave me. Thank you for the big meows and the headbonks and perching on my shoulder to interrupt with a breaking news story of Meow Meow. Thank you for the stealing of hundreds of my socks over 16 years and the way you always wanted to sit on me regardless of convenience or your own comfort. Thank you for letting me scoop you up for head smoochies, guarding me from nightmares, and solemnly supervising over 150 chapters of TRT. My soul cat, my baby kitty, my lovebug. I will always love and miss you. And one day I'll see you again.

#tw: pet death #cato the siamese #this is the hardest pet loss i've ever experienced #i didn't want to leave him there. it was so so hard walking out without him #i'll have his ashes in a few weeks and i have plans to get a tattoo of his pawprint but this is going to be rough for a while #he was such a part of my daily life for 16 years and now he's just gone #it's been so long that i don't really remember how i did things without him around #and now even having to feed the other kitties makes me cry because he's not there to meow at me to hurry or trot after me #i miss him

99 notes · View notes

riririnnnn · 2 months

Text

If we were to see the recent chapters of Blue Lock, then you can kind of sense that the storyline is getting Kunigami-focused which means that we are getting near the moment where the Wildcard backstory is going to be revealed. It makes the most sense to reveal it now, during NEL, especially when the Hero is battling his main villain, Shidou Ryusei.

I don't know about you, but for me, it'll feel out of place if the Wildcard backstory were to be revealed other than what is currently going on—it's is the perfect time!

That's why, I was thinking about it and went back to one of my theories that I had posted a while ago, and I realised something:

After the second selection had ended, Ego said this:

And before the second selection had started, Ego said this:

And to complete his sentence, we have this panel:

It's tough to say who is who but the top most silhouette low-key looks like Noa and the bottom most looks like Snuffy. The flags in descending order: France/Italy, Spain, Brazil, England, I don't know.

In present day, we have: Germany, Spain, England, Italy and France.

The above panel is from chapter 40 and the NEL starts about 150-ish chapter, so with 100+ chapter difference, some changes are bound of happen anyway.

Now!

Here comes the main focus of this post:

If you have read/remember my previous post regarding the Wildcard, then you might also remember that I had said that NEL wasn't planned.

BUT!

If we were to focus on Ego's words, then we can low-key conclude that NEL was supposed to happen, but in a very, very smaller scale compared to what we have right now.

And if we were to accept what I said above as the absolute truth, then it jumbles everything even more, you know.

Ego proposed the U-20 match during the timeline of Second Selection, so it means he had some time to think about the future. Then does it mean that he already visioned that BLLK Vs U-20 was going to be a massive hit? And when that happens, funds were going to pour in like waterfall and since JFU is money hungry, then they'd go in flow of whatever Ego says—did he see all of that?

What I said above doesn't sound much farfetched considering how intelligent Ego actually is.

To think that Ego made up the Wildcard after the U-20 match was scheduled makes more sense if we were to take into account that when the Blue Lock Man (Hologram Goalkeeper) was introduced, Anri complained that the funds are getting low. So, to run another program side by side seems quite tough.

I think Wildcard got more to do with Ego than Kunigami. The whole Wildcard thing feels like Ego's own selfish wish and Kunigami just, unluckily or luckily, happened to be the most suitable player for him.

The above thing makes more sense when we think about this:

If we dwell deeper into his words, then we get a deduction: Placing Kunigami in Bastard München was Ego's own choice not the former's. It seems like an indirect jab to Noa that, "Look! I created this dark horse, he is borne out of my ideal. I did it with my ideals, and he'll crush you."

You getting me?

Wildcard feels more like Ego's personal experiment rather than just a second chance to players who lost.

Old men angst Yaoi, LMAO.

#blue lock #bllk #blue lock theory #bllk theory #kunigami rensuke #ego jinpachi #雪 ranting

66 notes · View notes

chroniclesofbts · 4 months

Text

Break my Walls P. 1

Genre: A/B/O, Poly BTS and Reader

Warnings: none for this chapter, eventual smut, slow burn, angst, fluff

“Get up Omega, Alpha Dae wants the whole pack preparing for the Choi packs arrival” Beta San said, throwing my covers on the ground.

“And what is the rule about making a nest?” He questioned.

“It’s not a-” I cut myself off, “nests are a waste of time and resources that Alphas need.”

“At least you can remember the rules, get dressed and get downstairs” he barked walking out of the room.

I pick up the sheets off the ground and flatten them on the bed. I move the pillows back to the head of the bed. I must have moved them in my sleep again. I sighed, heading to the chest at the end of the bed and pulled out my only pair of jeans and a T-shirt left by one of the older Omegas. Pulling my hair back into a pony tail, I begin to climb down the ladder from the attic where the omegas sleep.

Omegas in the Kang pack are at the bottom of the totem pole, just like in every other pack. We are taught to stay out of sight unless called upon and obey orders. Omegas are good for pleasure and pups. Next month, I step into that role, replacing an omega who forgot her place, at least that’s what Pack Alpha Dae said.

“Y/N! Come quick, before Alpha Dae sees that you’re late” Sunhee whispered, motioning to the spot beside her. Sunhee was another Omega in my pack, she has been Alpha Dae’s personal Omega for 3 years now. The longest any Omega has lasted. She works hard, always showing off Alpha Dae’s marks. She’s already proven herself useful to the pack, having a little boy last summer. He looks just like Alpha Dae, everyone knows he will be an Alpha. After all, Sunhee is still here.

“Omegas! I want tonight’s dinner to be perfect! We have just received word that two more packs will be joining us. Both Lee and Kim will arrive at 5 P.M. so I expect this house spotless and food ready by then” Alpha Dae announced before going to his chambers, signaling Sunhee to follow.

“Alpha Dae muse be stressed to pull Sunhee to his chambers immediately” Hana whispered to me before grabbing the cleaning supplies and leaving.

“Y/N, you are in charge of dessert. We always get such positive reviews from our guests when you make them. The rest of you, same jobs as usual” Hei-Ran, our pack omega stated. All Omegas immediately got to work, preparing for three packs to arrive by the end of the day.

*4:30 P.M.*

Pulling the last pie from the oven, I set it on the counter with the rest of the desserts. I prayed that I made enough, or else Alpha Dae would see that I was punished. Our pack has 150 people, 100 Alphas, 30 Betas, and 20 Omegas. The Choi pack is similar in numbers, with more 120 Alphas, 10 Betas, and 20 Omegas. The Omegas and the Betas don’t eat what the Alphas eat usually, but with the news of the Lee and Kim pack joining, Alpha Dae has made a room for the Betas and a room for the Omegas to dine. The Lee pack is the second most sought after pack, with only nine people, they don’t accept new members frequently. The last Alpha that joined their all Alpha pack was six years ago. The Kim Pack is the top sought after pack, and quite the mystery. All that’s known of them is that they were in a different pack and left together. There’s seven people, no one knows what their sub gender is, just that they are all men. They all wear scent blockers and make decisions together, leading most to believe they are all Alphas. They don’t take in new members and rarely come out to meet with other packs.

“Please tell me the desserts are done, Y/N” Sunhee said, walking into the kitchen. She had a few new bruises and reeked of Alpha Dae. “The Kim pack just arrived, and Alpha Dae is panicking. You’d think he was being attacked” she continued, looking at all of the desserts on the counters.

“Don’t touch them, they are still hot. Also, this section goes to the Alpha’s table. These are the Omega desserts” I pointed, while cleaning up.

Voices drifted down the hall, Alpha Dae giving a tour to the Kim Pack. The rumors were true, the only scent I could pick up was Alpha Dae’s.

“And this is the kitchen!” Alpha Dae exclaimed. I immediately dropped my eyes to the floor, giving a small bow to the pack.

“Our Omegas worked hard to prepare today’s meal, our desserts are well known by the pack too. You all chose a great day to visit.”

“Thank you for having us on such short notice, The Choi pack has asked for our input on today’s meeting.” The voice was strong and confident, clearly their pack Alpha.

“The desserts smell wonderful, I am sure they will taste just as good” an angelic voice spoke, their compliment causing heat to creep up my neck.

“Let’s continue on with the tour” Alpha Dae said, as footsteps left the kitchen.

“You should follow your pack, Sir. Our Alpha doesn’t take kindly to his Omegas being in the presence of other packs.” Sunhee spoke lowly, trying to keep our pack Alpha from hearing. This cause me to look up to see who she was speaking to. There in the doorway to the kitchen, stood the most beautiful man I have ever seen. It’s unfair how good looking he was. His hair was dark, and longer than any of our pack members were allowed to wear it. His lips were plump, pulled into a small grin. He was tall and had broad shoulders, barely fitting in the frame of the door. And his eyes, they were locked right on me. I immediately looked away and began portioning the desserts. Uncomfortable with receiving anyone’s attention.

“Your Alpha sure does like to mark what’s his, doesn’t he?” The man addressed Sunhee.

“And yours must not be worried about another Alpha trying to take what’s his” Sunhee shot back, causing the man to chuckle.

“Oh we all like to leave our marks on one another, our marks just would never be left with such carelessness. We like our marks to show our love, not stake a claim” he replied.

“Sunhee! Show the Kim pack their rooms!” Alpha Dae demanded from upstairs, ignorant that he was missing one of the pack members. Sunhee rushed upstairs, leaving me alone with the strange man.

“You made all of these?” He asked me, coming closer to see the variety of desserts I was placing on trays.

“Yes sir” I responded, trying to focus on placing the desserts perfectly, with my shaking hands. Having this man standing so close made you nervous, and not just because of his beauty.

“Is there anything I can help you with, sir?” You ask, certain that was the only reason he was still in the kitchen. Maybe he was hungry, his pack did travel a long way to reach yours.

“I do not need anything, just the conversation of a pretty girl” he replied smoothly, confusing you. His pack wasn’t know to go out of their way to have conversations with anyone. What exactly did he want from you.

“Well, Sunhee should return any moment” you say, moving into the Omega trays.

“Those are Omega specific desserts, aren’t they.”he states more than questions.

“They are, how did you know that?” You paused, glancing at him.

“Jin hyung! There you are, come, we have to change before dinner begins.” A different man stated as he bounced into the kitchen. His hair was similar length as Jin’s was and he was the same height. His lips formed a heart when he smiled, he was full of energy.

“I am coming Hobi, was just admiring the work of this Omega” Jin replied, pushing him out of the door. I released a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

“Oh, and Omega? I wasn’t speaking of Sunhee earlier” he winked, before disappearing from view. I felt my face heat up from his words. What a strange man, he must not have really looked at Sunhee. Or maybe it was because she still held Alpha Dae’s scent.

Lost in my thoughts as I went back to the attic to change, I failed to look where I was going, running straight into someone’s chest.

“Woah, sorry Omega, I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.” The voice said, grabbing ahold of my shoulders to steady me. “My names Namjoon, you were one of the Omegas in the kitchen. Your desserts smelled amazing. Jin said how you had desserts dedicated to Omegas. He was very impressed with your knowledge and variety of desserts.”

“Oh, it’s not often I get to make omega desserts, I had to make as many as I could for my packs omegas to experience” I rambled, freezing when I realized what I had said to a member of another pack. I looked up in alarm, waiting for the punishment of disrespecting my pack’s alphas, only to be met with a look of confusion.

“Why would-” He began, only to be interrupted my one of my alphas.

“Omega, clothes, now!” He barked, forcing my limbs to move, even if I didn’t want to. Leaving Namjoon standing in the hallway confused, as he watches me follow a command.

#kim seokjin #kim namjoon #kim taehyung #min yoongi #jung hoseok #jeon jungkook #park jimin #bts ot7 #a/b/o dynamics #x reader #eventual smut #slow burn

113 notes · View notes

ccoffii · 2 months

Text

Things that I think Might Give Nuance to Eleceed aka I complain

how the fuck has Jiwoo not shown more attachment issues with other characters, like I know he does has at one point with Kayden but it's so infrequent that you forget this kid has basically been neglected his entire life

Can I get a chapter on just his eating habits? Like we don't know much about him other than that he's an overpowered bean. Like can he cook or does he even do it? Does he just live off of takeout and shin ramyun for the majority of his life?? I WANT ANSWERS!!

+ to point 2, failed chance of environmental storytelling but hey if u gotta pump out a new chapter every week that's at least 40 panels I would skip it too.

LET THE BESTIE FUCKING HANGOUT OMFG! never in my life have I seen a friend group as underdeveloped as Subin, Wooin, Jisuk, and Jiwoo... Before u come for my ass I know I'm right because do u remember ANY chapters where their dynamics were explored... and I mean just them I'm srs

Shakes u aggressively The fucking entirety of the payoff of the Jiwoo gets kidnapped and core fucking obliterated arc? Like how the hell is he fine and dandy after that shit? NO, I DO NOT CARE HOW GOOD OF A HEALER KARTEIN IS I WANT TO SEE SOME ANGST!!!

slams papers THEY INTRODUCE CHARACTERS AND SUDDENLY THEY'RE FUCKING DEAD. The fact that some arguably pivotal characters to the plot and world-building cough Sucheon, Arthur, Iseul, etc, etc. cough have not appeared in over like 150 ch tells me WAY too much about the current development and I DO NOT LIKE IT!! Let's explore Sucheon and HIS REACTION TO THE KIDNAPPING THING? Iseul can talk to animals, cool but kayden is a human who basically transfigured into a cat... maybe there is more to those awakened animals... OR FUCKING ARTHUR?? MY GUY HAS NO HARM AND WITNESSED FRAME KILL HIS CLASSMATES AND WAS BETRAYED HOW TF DID THAT FLY UNDER THE BUS

u know what pisses me off is that they aren't actively developing Amyeong (dark) and Jiwoo's relationship and Amyeong's ties to Jiwoo's mother. Also, PERSONALY, I think Jiwoo and his mother should be more awkward around each other considering her job and I've seen videos that the lack of time spent with a parent can rlly just make them a stranger to a child. Plus Kayden knows more about Jiwoo than his mother anyways let me SEE it.

In the end, I just complain out of a slight love for the series, these are things I just personally want to see out of the webcomic that's all. Also, I might have more, I kinda stopped reading it in order after ch 200 something.

#eleceed #seo jiwoo #i'm so fucking funny #pls give this poor child a personality #I'm sorry but liking cats isn't a personality trait #why do i do this to myself #just yappin #what is bro yapping about #let me cook #i just want good story telling #I rlly should go to bed #eleceed webtoon

48 notes · View notes

prettyboybillyhargrove · 1 year

Text

Dacre Montgomery is ready to work

There’s a famous audition tape of Dacre Montgomery’s online. Maybe you’ve seen it; some 18 million people have. And it’s captivating to watch, not just because of Montgomery’s intensity, but because of the clear control that he has at such a young age. That steady ferocity cuts right through the screen, even though he’s just ‘running lines’ against a plain blue backdrop. It also cut through the sea of other actors gunning for a role in Stranger Things and made him Billy Hargrove, the resident bad guy on the sci-fi drama that broke Netflix viewership records on its way to becoming one of the biggest shows in TV history.

It’s been almost six years since that audition made Montgomery a global star, but the man sitting in front of me has lost none of that vigour. Reclining in a side room at a studio in Sydney before the photoshoot accompanying this article, the now 28-year-old looks casual. He’s wearing a plain black T-shirt, white shorts and one of those non-descript navy caps movie stars wear when they want to be incognito. The outfit is a simple one, designed to avoid attention—a far cry from the red carpet fashion that Montgomery favours. But as he starts talking about the thing he loves most—movies and the process of making them—that same intensity takes over; a passion that has him on the edge of his seat.

“When I was in my early teens, all I did was stay in my room and watch movies. And I fell in love with everything,” he says. The reverence, the obsession, is what drives Montgomery, and not just when it comes to acting. On set for today’s shoot, Montgomery—who was recently named the face of Politix’s new autumn/winter “The Gentle Man” campaign—is completely locked in. Unlike some who see an ambassador role as an opportunity to make a quick buck, Montgomery has signed on because he’s excited about the brand’s refreshed look and new chapter. “I don't just rock up on time. I rock up 10 minutes early,” he told me, “I don't just give one idea, I give 10 ideas because I don't engage with anything unless I'm authentically interested in it.”

He’s not kidding. After each burst of shots, he pores over them like he’s the creative director, rather than the subject—not out of vanity, but to see if the images are challenging enough. At one point, he grabs a mirror from the corner of the room. “Let’s just try it”, he tells the crew, and proceeds to work it straight into the shoot.

This dedication to perfection hasn’t always been easy for him or the people around him. After Stranger Things, the search for the next perfect role was almost paralysing. “Before I felt like, ‘look, I'm not going to take anything unless I'm 150 per cent invested’,” he says, and eventually, that attitude led to Montgomery parting ways with his team—his management, agents, everyone.

During that period, which he describes as a creative hole, Montgomery tried anything and everything. He wrote poetry (which was released as a book by publisher Andrews McMeel under the title DKMH and turned into a spoken word podcast of the same name), made short films, and dedicated himself to learning the arts of cinematography and screenwriting—at some points, he was watching three films a day, “morning, noon, night”, just like he did as a teenager.

Part of the fear that drove him into that lull was the looming presence of being typecast. When there are roles being offered to you left, right and centre, which one is the ‘perfect’ next step to take? This year, he has started climbing out of that hole, engaging more filmmakers as well as taking on roles like the one with Politix. But, there is still a sense of wariness.

For example, as news broke that Hugh Jackman wouldn’t be returning as Wolverine—a decision that he has since reversed—rumours swirled that Montgomery might step into the role. But for him, it’s about the filmmakers rather than any big-name character. “It’s just finding filmmakers that I'm really interested in working with and going from there as opposed to it being like, ‘oh, I've always wantedto play Wolverine or Bane’,” he says, “but also, I’m feeling a little bit of Marvel fatigue. I’m not really interested in it in the same way that I was.”

Montgomery isn’t alone in his ‘Marvel fatigue’, plenty of moviegoers aren’t as interested as they once were—just look at the recent box office figures—but it’s another example of how he’s a film fan first, and an actor second. He can thank his parents for that.

“My dad started taking me to films that I shouldn't have been seeing when I was a kid,” Montgomery says, “but he worked in the film industry and he would explain to me the process of everything.” From the very beginning, he was exposed to not just the definitive films of the time, but also how they were made. His mother and father would take him to the sets they were working on and show him the ins and outs. “It was like, ‘here’s the unadulterated version of the world and the industry and here are all the ins and the outs of how movies are made.”

For some actors, fame, as much as the films that inspire them, is a driver. And it’s only if they reach a level of success that they really see how the sausage is made—which is not always pretty, especially if they aren’t backed by a huge studio. Thanks to his parents, Montgomery is a rare actor who has always known about the gritty reality of making low-budget films—the long days, the repetition, the egos—but that’s what he fell in love with. “I'm not here for money or notoriety or anything like that,” he says, “I really care about the work and that's what I'm there for.”

But it’s that moment when he actually steps in front of the camera and it’s time to perform that has always had Montgomery hooked. “When you’re on set, I don't try to take up too much space and I wait until it’s my time to go in front of the camera and do my little thing. But when I do that… It's ecstasy. There’s nothing but that moment, do you know what I mean?”

Though it’s been a few years since Montgomery has had those moments and shared them with the world—Elvis, in which he was a scene-stealer, was largely filmed in 2020—he’s getting back to work. “I am climbing out of that [hole] and what that looks like is me engaging with more filmmakers,” he says. Of the three filmmakers he has agreed to work with—at least publicly—one thing is clear: they aren’t interested in making simple, sugar-coated work.

The first film we are likely to see in Montgomery’s next chapter is Spider & Jesse, directed by Dan Kay, which dives into the far-reaching consequences of addiction. “It’s about two girls that find their mother dead in the first scene and they bury her in the backyard so they don't have to go into the foster care system,” Montgomery explains, “I play the mum’s ex-boyfriend that was dealing her the drugs.”

It’s an unglamorous role with limited screen time, but that didn’t bother Montgomery because it was clear the film, and the people behind it, had something vital to say. “I realised they were on a mission to give insight into the people that are affected by addiction—family, friends, and people they're associated with rather than shedding light on the addicts themselves.”

Filming on Spider & Jesse, which took place in Florida, has already wrapped, but Montgomery’s other two projects are yet to begin production. Both are ambitious, and both defy simple explanation. The first, titled Went Up That Hill, comes from Samuel Van Grinsven, a New Zealand-born, Sydney-based director who became a festival circuit favourite with his feature debut Sequin in a Blue Room.

In essence, Montgomery says the film is an assessment of abuse and how trauma lingers from our childhoods. Beyond the message of the film though, it’s the challenging acting work—he’s heading to Berlin to work with co-star Vicky Krieps (Phantom Thread, Old), Van Grinsven and a movement coach to prepare for the complex role—that has attracted him.

The same goes for Faces of Death, the other project Montgomery has been linked to, which is a remake of a 1978 American mondo horror film notoriously banned for years in countries across the world, including Australia, due to its graphic depictions of death. “I have a really interesting co-star [Euphoria’s Barbie Ferreira] who I love, and the character is a serial killer, and for me, it was like, ‘what’s the thing that’s going to scare me so much about creating this character?’” he says of the film, “So I rang the director and I was like, ‘I want to go visit a serial killer in a state penitentiary in the state of California when I'm back because it scares the shit out of me’.”

After these films wrap up, Montgomery plans to start his journey into directing. “I want to direct my first movie and right now I'm in the process of working on the script with my writer and then I'm going to go on the process of trying to put the movie together,” he says, and he won’t give much more than that away, but if there’s anything we’d wager on, it’s that the movie will be challenging—both to make and in concept.

If these types of films don’t sound like they’ll be box office smashes or Oscar bait, Montgomery isn’t worried. “To me, the success of the movie is in the making of the movie,” he says. “And the outcome of the movie looks like a cathartic experience making [it], as opposed to some other thing like, ‘Oh, I want to get into this film festival and I want the film to have a 4.0 on Letterboxd.’ That's not what I'm doing it for.”

The same attitude goes for his partnership with Politix. Beyond filmmaking, Montgomery is passionate about the way that fashion allows him to control his direct experience. “I suffer from incredibly bad OCD,” he shares, “And I have always found comfort in controlling my surroundings, and that is fabric. My mood is very affected by what I have on my skin and what I have in my space and what I can smell and all that sort of stuff bleeds into my personal life aside from fashion.”

As with his project selection in cinema, the aesthetics are one thing, but for Montgomery to come on board he has to believe in the direction of the project.

“I'm interested in [Politix’s] reworking of the company and what they’re doing to reshape it for 2023 and onwards. But what I was genuinely interested in is that sensitivity of masculinity because that really is me. I am a very sensitive person. I'm very sensitive to my space and to interactions in my life. And I think this whole campaign is really about unpacking what is that.”

Once Montgomery signed on with Politix to become its new face, as with his films, he was all in. From the campaign direction to the execution of the advertising, Montgomery has been instrumental. He’s not just arriving, taking some photos and leaving—as with the photoshoot accompanying this shoot, he’s trying to make it the best he can.

“I want the product to be good, just as good as they want the product to be and not hopefully from a narcissistic point of view, from a point of view of I want it to be good,” he says, “That's more important to me than the paycheck or how many people see it or how successful the campaign is. That's the through line for me.”

It’s this sheer dedication to craft and passion for the work that has seen Montgomery through to where he is today. It’s what made that Stranger Things audition tape so arresting and, if he pulls off his big swings, may just make him one of the most memorable actors Australia has produced. Whether those ambitious punches land or not, there’s no doubt about one thing: Montgomery is ready to do the work.

PRODUCTION CREDITS:

Words by Charlie Calver

Photography by Jesse Lizotte

Styling by Miguel Urbina Tan

Fashion assisting by Isabella Mamas

Grooming by Joel Foreman

Production by Jade Carp

Dacre Montgomery wears Politix throughout; politix.com.au

#dacre montgomery #billy hargrove #stranger things #gq #gq australia #politix #spider & jesse #went up that hill #faces of death

263 notes · View notes

aingeal98 · 6 months

Text

More orv thoughts but the contrasts between Dokja's relationships with YJH and HSY really are so very interesting. Specifically right now I'm thinking of how we start the novel with Dokja already obsessed with YJH. Not exactly rose tinted glasses but this character kept him alive for years because of how much he cared about him. Him being real doesn't change that, Dokja just kind of accepts the murder vibes and works around them.

But then with HSY at the start he thinks he doesn't know a thing about her. Their relationship is formed on the pages and by the time we hit the mid 300s where she's firmly involved in the dynamic between the two mains to the point of doing the killing herself in front of them to change the trajectory of their lives forever thing they're both so fond of attempting, you can clearly see how much Dokja has grown to care for her when he doesn't realize it's a fakeout. And the following chapters where he's looking at her and thinking about her and it's like oh wow. He loves her.

And I was grinning so hard while reading it. One of the core themes clear from early on is that Dokja loves YJH and the story is going to be about how that love endures and grows despite everything thrown at them. And it takes up so much narrative attention that the slowburn HSY carving out her own little niche in Dokja's heart that's distinctly different from the rest of the squad (and that dynamic climbing it's way up to stand different but on the same wavelength as Dokja and YJH) is done so subtly and brilliantly. I went from unsure of how anyone is going to come close to YJH in Dokja's heart and mind to enjoying every aspect of the yhk dynamic because they're all so insane about each other. Like they're firmly a trio now and I got to watch the entire build up of HSY becoming a part of it all while insisting that she's only helping because the two of them are too stupid to work out their issues without her.

And the best part is I still have like 150 chapters to go. 10/10 no notes give me more of the two edgelords growling like angry cats every time Dokja brings up that one time they were engaged because while he may be waking up to the fact he's in love with both of them they clearly still have an issue or 100 to work out before we get to a non murdering each other poly relationship.

#orv #orv spoilers #orv rambles #yhk

110 notes · View notes

demonscantgothere · 2 months

Text

Beasts of the Hill and Serpents of the Den. Galadriel/Sauron | Halbrand. Explicit. 197.2k | 5.2k chapter [39/150] Ch. 39: The Will of the One

During the First Age, the War of Wrath changes course. On the island of Tol-in-Gaurhoth, the Isle of Werewolves, one of Sauron’s former strongholds—is the seat of the Necromancer’s power. Instead of sending his wolves out to kill Finrod after capturing Felagund in his dungeons, Sauron demands an exchange for his life. Galadriel offers herself.

Slowly, Galadriel attempted to regain her composure. “I apologize,” she murmured to Írimë, smiling at her. “I have never heard anyone call him Lord Lieutenant before—but then, it has just been him and me and—” It struck her, then, out of the blue. “Thuringwethil, of course,” Galadriel finished, “and she only calls him ‘Master.’”

“An old title,” Írimë agreed with a nod, “from days far before you and me. It is not used anymore, save in old bonds. They call him Lord Lieutenant now, for he is Lord of Tol-in-Gaurhoth and Lieutenant of Angband.”

An icy chill seeped down Galadriel’s spine once more, setting the little hairs upon the nape of her neck on end. “And you serve him now?”

Írimë tipped her chin downwards as she regarded Galadriel with her unnaturally cool gaze. “I serve under Thuringwethil,” she revealed, that dark twinkle glimmering within her bright eyes once more, and then she closed them as she bowed her head in submission, “and we all serve the Elder King—” With her head bowed as such, her voice took on the cadence of a song, and Írimë chanted out the rest of it. “King of the World, Master of the Fates of Arda, Lord of All and Giver of Freedom.”

Keep Reading

#haladriel #galadriel x halbrand #halbrand x galadriel #saurondriel #galadriel x sauron #sauron x galadriel #my fic #beasts of the hill and serpents of the den

45 notes · View notes

storiesbyrhi · 1 year

Text

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

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

Chapter Summary: A voice calls to you.

Author's Note: Set around two weeks after the ‘earthquake’ and is canon-compliant except there is no Eddie in 1986. This fic takes a couple of chapters to get going, so stay with me. I am SO excited about this, and I think you will love where it goes.

1986

The colony screeched and swooped, taking off into the inky dusk sky with graceless chaos. Each bat had stretched their wings and dropped from their forest dwelling to join the trilling and flapping. Only one remained.

He perched high in the treetops, an unwillingness to join the others that was not typical for a bat. Impossible for a bat, depending on who you asked. He observed the night grow darker with an entirely unnatural sense of understanding.

Eventually, he would fall from the branch and join the others in the hunt for moths and wasps, beetles and bugs. The hunger would drive him to it, yet the hunger could never be satisfied. It had been like that for one hundred and fifty years.

He was the oldest in the colony and couldn’t remember being young. He couldn’t remember reveling in warm nights or cicada season. He felt as if he had always haunted the forest and always would. He felt, and that was the problem.

The other bats did as all Eptesicus fuscus did. They were born into a colony around April and spent a month nursing from their mothers. The pups grew up, hibernated in the winter, mated, and bared the next generation, ultimately living a short life, just shy of a decade at best.

This bat did not. He did not hibernate alone or with others. When they found warmth and shelter in dilapidated buildings, under tree bark, or in caves, he remained a presence on the boughs of the forest’s tallest trees. He did not mate and did not father. He did not fly patterns across the sky while the town below slept. He ate to survive and continued to live well beyond his species’ dictated years. Nothing more. Nothing less.

He watched over Hawkins, Indiana for over a century. With each passing year, things would change. Slowly, the wilderness had been reduced to clusters of wooded areas by modernisation and industrialisation. It was becoming more and more common for the bats to come into contact with humans. A vast majority of the time, the people screamed and ran, terrified of disease or spooked by urban legends. Some marveled at the bats with respectful awe. Some tried and failed to catch the needle-teethed things for sport. Mostly, they were left alone to mind their own bat business, and mostly, that’s what the ageless bat did.

It wasn’t until mid-nineteenth century that the bat sensed a deep and profound shift. The Lab was built and the earth suffered. The bat had an ariel view and echolocation, but he couldn’t know what happened within the walls. Decades passed and the mystery continued. By 1983 though, he knew his kind wasn’t the only nightmare fuel in the woods.

1984. 1985. And, in 1986 the ground split open, spilling the Upside Down into Hawkins. An earthquake, reported the news. The sixth sense innate in all animals knew better Deers, birds, and bees all migrated out of pattern. The colony of bats entirely disappeared one night, having feared the vibrations pulsating from the cracks in the earth.

Only one remained, an unshakable and quite possibly magical force tethering him to Hawkins.

…

“That town is no place for a witch,” came the warning. “Something is still wrong with Hawkins. Can’t you sense it?”

Infamous in Indiana, Hawkins was the place where buildings burnt and people went missing with threefold outcome. One: they were never seen again. Two: returned, but at what cost? Three: bodies found, so disfigured by unseen violence that it was hard not to believe in monsters.

When the streets fell apart in 1986, sending part of the town down into hell, it would have been fair for Hawkins to lose what remained of their resolve. Yet, the town would go on to rebuild, and between the freshly poured concrete and funeral services, a battle was fought in secret.

“A doorway was opened. They may not claim victory,” came another warning with a beg to heed.

Yes, it would be the fight of their lives, but it wasn’t for a witch to interfere with. That was a hard line in the sand of magic that even you would not cross. They called him Vecna, but you had no name for him. His sorcery was not of the natural world. To let him know of yours would be to risk it all.

There was more to you than witchcraft, however. Hawkins was a town in crisis, and there was space for you to help and heal.

“It’s not just him,” cried a third and final warning. “The ground is consecrated,”

“That’s old superstition,” you dismissed.

“So is blood moon bad luck, but look what happened last time. And falling brooms, broken mirrors, and circles of salt. We are superstition. There are some places witches should not go.”

Your mind was set and your path clear. “Something is calling me there. Doesn’t that have meaning?”

“Not all callings are sanctified,”

“Do we fear holiness or not?” you asked. “I can’t walk consecrated ground but should only show devotion to the sanctified calls?”

There was no answer.

You sighed and softened your voice. “Look, I know you mean well. All you do is out of love. I know that. But, I need to do this. It’s… I don’t know… So real. The calling. It almost has a voice,”

“The timing,” was offered as a reminder.

The first time you felt something coming from Hawkins was when the quote unquote earthquake happened. A catastrophic event like that had to have more consequences than just Vecna, you thought. It could have shifted other magic and natural musings.

“I’ve made up my mind,” you stated with boldness beyond your rank in the coven.

“Are you so willing to discount lore?”

“Folklore. It’s 1986. I know witchcraft isn’t a science, but you have to give me more credit than that. We don’t have to listen to every whisper on the wind and take for gospel the tea leaves in our cups… Nuances, you know?”

Your eyes stayed closed and your hand gripped the pen tightly, waiting for a reply to be sprawled out on the page. When nothing more came, ‘Are you so willing to discount lore?’ the last words scribbled in a handwriting not your own, you breathed out hard.

Automatic writing took a lot of energy out of you, but it was the best method of speaking to The Witches Who Came Before. Reading back their psychographic warnings, you felt a small sense of guilt over defying them, but more than guilty, you felt empathy for a town so beaten by evil over and over.

Hawkins was calling.

…

Aid workers, distressed families, and reporters had flooded the small town, making it all the more easy for you to slip by the city limits unnoticed. Although you weren’t sure what should or could be noticing you, there was still a small exhale of relief when you didn’t burst into flames as you drove passed the ‘Welcome to Hawkins’ sign.

The voice calling you to the town hadn’t been polite enough to give specific instructions. In lieu of directions or coordinates, you drove along roads that appeared to be out of the path of the earthquake, finding your way to a bar called The Hideaway.

Inside, patrons sat around watching their town on the news while staff rushed to cook food and package it up for the crisis centers.

“Bit of a wait on food, honey,” a waitress called to you.

“Just after a Coke.”

It seemed uncanny for a bar to be operational in the middle of an emergency, but it also befit a town so used to death. You took your can of Coke from the waitress, left a ten on the counter, and made your way around the tables to get to the noticeboard on the other side of the room.

Lost dogs. Swimming classes. Babysitters for hire. Then, your eyes landed on it.

1BR TRAILER. PARTLY FURNISHED. WATER/ELECTRICITY. NEEDS REPAIR. CHEAP. CALL: FOREST HILLS TRAILER PARK. 312-683-1192.

Maybe it had already been volunteered to home displaced people, but you trusted it was worth a shot. “Hey, can I borrow your phone?” you asked the waitress, walking to the bar and leaning on it. She nodded and dumped the old rotary phone in front of you.

After four rings, “Forest Hills,”

“Ah, hey. I saw your flyer. About the one-bedroom. Is that still available?”

The woman made a scoffing sound. “Apparently beggars can be choosers. Ain’t nothing wrong with that trailer but Red Cross said it ain’t fit for people. On account of the mold, they said.” Her voice was gravelly from a pack a day, but she didn’t sound unkind.

“I don’t mind mold,”

“Guess it’s available then.”

…

The bat had never known illness or injury. Whatever was killing the trees though, had touched him. He didn’t wither and die like other flora and fauna, but he wasn’t unscathed. It was as if he was burnt from the inside out, a mark on his feet spreading slowly but surely.

The sensation was unpleasant at first, but grew more noxious. His wings wouldn’t stretch their full span, and he could only glide small distances. The bat found a small patch of trees not yet turned to ash, settling in at the base of one, hiding under brush for warmth.

It was a fine place to die, if that should be his fate. He was where he belonged.

…

Forest Hills Trailer Park had been subdivided again and again; any spare patch of land was used for caravans and tents of people left homeless or those coming to watch the disaster unfold.

The one-bedroom trailer Michelle, manager of the park, gave you the keys to was indeed in need of repair. There were air vents that sat wide open, the outside cold seeping through. Dark mold grew in the corner of the bedroom’s ceiling. And the carpet should have been replaced years prior.

The very first thing you did once alone in your new home was ring a small bell you kept in your bag. Three shrill rings for good fortune. For everything else, you’d need supplies.

The local general stores would likely be low on stock, and the shopping mall had burnt down only a year ago. It stood in ruin, yet to be redeveloped. Before you ventured to the shops, you decided to take a short walk around Forest Hills and the surrounding land to see what could be foraged.

As you passed people, some looked you up and down, Satanic Panic clouding their perception of anyone they considered to be different from themselves, to be ‘other’ in any way. Some neighbours though, waved and offered a friendly greeting. “Michelle con you into that old trailer?” one asked, to which you politely faked a laugh.

Out beyond the trailers and RVs was a patch of land that seemed unaffected by everything happening in the town. The trees soundproofed the space, making it feel miles away from civilisation. While there wasn’t much in the way of edible mushrooms and plants, nor things needed for your craft, you sensed an undercurrent of magic there.

Crouching down, you picked up a golden leaf, twirling it between your fingers. Close, you thought, but didn’t know what it meant.

It was then you saw it out of the corner of your eyes. Something moved under the tree near you. Small. An animal. A rabbit, maybe? Rats or opossums or a trash-stealing raccoon?

Slowly, you sat down on the forest floor, cross-legged and facing the tree. You would wait until the animal revealed itself on its own terms.

The bat was so weak he could hardly move. He tried to hide away from the human that was watching him, but he couldn’t. When he resigned to his position, he let his vision focus on you.

You weren’t surprised to see the bat. The feeling was relief, like you’d found a missing thing. It was clear something was wrong with the creature though. “Do you need help?” you asked it.

Still slowly, you scooted closer to the bat. There were no obvious signs of injury. His brown fluffy body was free from blood or gore. Perhaps he had torn a wing or flown into a tree.

“I can help,” you whispered, holding a hand out flat to the ground. The tips of your fingers were close enough to the bat that he could bite if he wanted to, or he could shuffle forward into the softness of your hand.

Whatever compelled the bat to never leave Hawkins, compelled him to fall onto your palm.

“Hi,” you greeted, bringing your hand to your chest and holding the bat safely between your hands. “What’s happened?”

The bat was a common species; you recognised him as the aptly named big brown bat. His body was the size of a baseball, and some of his colouring was wrong. His legs and arms would normally be pink, but they were a sickly black colour. It looked like his brown fur was beginning to turn too.

“Did you eat something bad? Accidentally poison yourself?”

The bat, of course, did not answer your questions. You looked around the trees for other lost animals or any sign of something that may have caused your new friend to become sick. When there were no answers there either, you stood and took the both of you back to the trailer.

…

Destiny and a little folly may have led you to Forest Hills and the one-bedroom trailer, but you had come to Hawkins prepared nonetheless. In your car, there were supplies to ensure if you’d had to sleep there for a couple of nights, you could. The bat would benefit from your readiness.

The sleeping bag you’d packed was turned into a soft nest for him. “Alright, let’s get you warm,” you whispered, placing him in the middle. He shuffled on the spot for a few moments before settling, his brown eyes still watching you.

When you offered him a piece of banana, he nibbled at it.

When you gingerly stroked his fur, he let you.

Still, there was something about the way the bat watched you, something in his reaction to your movements. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but it was most definitely curious.

“Alright, my furry friend. We need provisions. Especially if there’s gonna be two of us.” You spoke to him as you pulled your jacket on and grabbed your bag. “Please be here when I get back. I promise I can help you.”

…

It was dark when you returned home. Stores were staying open late to receive interstate deliveries and provide goods to the in-need townspeople, so you managed to get most things on your list.

Inside the trailer was cold, the spring air outside not yet filtered with summer’s coming warmth. You checked on the bat, ensured he was still cosy in his nest. Then, you got to work.

After soap and scrubbing did its part and the mold was attacked with vinegar and bleach, you boarded up the vents and added repairing them properly to your to-do list. In the bedroom, the bed was covered in fresh linen while you dreamed of a brand new mattress.

The only other furniture in the so-called ‘partly furnished’ trailer was a couple of bar stools at the kitchen bench, a televisionless television stand, a couch in surprisingly good condition, and a coffee table that sat a little too low to the ground.

Next, you took a ritual learned from your sisters whilst in India and let milk and rice boil over on the stove for prosperity and abundance. From time spent in Lowcountry, you observed the practice of painting your porch blue. The trailer didn’t have a porch, but the doorframes would suffice. It would ward off evil spirits, as would the salt ring you ran around the home. Finally, mugwort and sweetgrass smudged through the space, cleansing and claiming it as your own.

By the time you were finished, it was almost midnight and your stomach growled obscenities. The bat had been nibbling on the fruit you’d offered, but you’d not eaten since the morning.

After two cups of noodles and a cup of white jasmine tea, you unpacked the small cat bed you’d purchased for the bat. You relocated him into it, still with the sleeping bag, and pushed it under your bed. He’d like it in the dark, you thought.

Skipping a shower, you changed into pajamas and got into bed. Sleep came quickly, perhaps quicker than it had in decades. You dreamt that night. Of darkness. Of blood. Of screaming. Nothing coherent, nothing recognisable. Just an ominous feeling that you were going to find what you were looking for, ready or not.

End Note: Reblogs and comments are so appreciated. Like I said, it will take a couple of chapters for you to fall in love, but I promise you will.

If you are interested in the witchcraft in the story, check out The Grimoire. It will be updated with each chapter!

Fic Taglist: @kaitebugg03 @paranoidmunson @amira0303 @munsonsbait @idkidknemore @paprikaquinn @stardustworlds @loz-brooke @wyverntatty @vintagehellfire @dark-academia-slut @scarletwitchwhore @becks1002 @mrsdollardog @heyndrix @luceneraium @rosaline-black @devilinthepalemoonlite @goldencherriess @iamwhisperingstars @wiltedwonderland @blueywrites @breezybeesposts @jadehowlettthewolf @spikesvamp79 @foreveranexpatsposts @stardustmunson @tortoiseshellspells @wingedpeachjudgegiant

All Eddie Taglist: @solomons-finest-rum @ruinedbythehobbit @munsonlives @sweetpeapod @depressooo-expressooo-blog @thorfemmes @hawkins-high @corrodedhawkins @grungegrrrl @lilzabob @mymoonisalways-in-scorpio @averagemisfit03 @ches-86 @ilovecupcakesandtea @onehotgreasymechanic @hazydespair @lacrymosa-24 @mel-the-fangirl

#Mine #Burning Yarrow #Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie Munson x You #Eddie Munson/Reader #Eddie Munson/You #Vampire!Eddie #Vampire Eddie Munson

434 notes · View notes