#six years passed and i never once pay for stuff

[jakekiszska]

playdate

pairing: eddie munson x female!reader

warnings: explicit sexual content, vaginal fingering, spitting, p in v intercourse, tiny bit of a master kink if you squint, spanking, praise kink. (reader and eddie are both 18+).

a/n: pls cut me some slack as a d&d 5e player. i tried my best to write as accurately to 1e & 2e as i could. :)

summary: you finally joined hellfire after months of your best friends begging… but you can’t keep your eyes off him the entire time.

if u see an error no u don’t. :)

word count: 2.9k

“shirt looks good on you.” eddie comments, winking as he passes you in the school hallway.

“thanks, perv.” you joke back, giving him a smirk. he blows you a quick kiss before facing the correct direction and walking down the hallway. you made the decision last week to start playing dungeons and dragons with eddie and his friends, so of course today you had to don your t-shirt.

you entered your final class and sat down, hardly able to focus. who really needed math anyway, right? you stared at the white board as the teacher lectured and wrote formulae down. you couldn’t stay focused, so you let your mind wander.

thinking of it, you probably did need math, especially for your dungeons and dragons game… you’d need to add or subtract your modifiers from your rolls, or add to your attacks… so maybe you’d better pay attention.

your teacher’s monotonous voice was hard to focus on, especially since she never faced the class. you took out your notebook and started scribbling tiny doodles in the corner of the page. a few ideas came to you for playing your character today, so you tried to jot them down as discreetly as you could, passing them off as notes.

you thanked all the deities you knew when the bell finally rang. you met eddie in the parking lot, standing by his van. he was chatting with his friend gareth, but quickly turned his attention to you as you approached.

“ready to go?” he asks, looking you up and down. you nod a quick yes and hop into the passenger seat of his van, throwing your stuff to the floorboard. the drive to your house was quick, but eddie stalled you before you could exit the van and head inside.

“what’s wrong?” he asks, looking over at you with a concerned look. normally you would’ve talked his ear off the whole ride over. you try to assure him that you’re fine.

“hey listen, y/n… you’ve been my best friend for like, i don’t know, six? eight years? i know when something is wrong. spill it.”

you finally turn your head and look at him. “i’m nervous to play tonight. what if i look stupid?”

“babe,” he says affectionately, making your stomach lurch, “we’re a bunch of dudes in high school playing a fantasy table-top roleplay. you’re definitely gonna look weird.” he says casually, a playful tone to his voice. you can’t help but laugh. “it’s gonna be okay. i’ll wait to bring your character into the game that way you can see how everyone else plays, okay?” he asks you, his tone comforting.

“okay, eds. okay. that works.” you say, running your hands down your jeans. you open the van door and hop out, strolling over to your porch. when your feet hit the bottom step, you hear eddie call after you. “pick ya up at 6:40!” he screeches, and then you hear the tires of his van screech too as he backs out of your driveway and drives away maniacally.

you grab yourself a snack from the kitchen once you make it inside, a few strawberries your mom had left over from some cake she decorated.

you take them up to your room and set the plate on your bedside table before grabbing out your books and starting on your homework. stupid math.

you work through as many problems as you can before you can feel your eyelids starting to droop. you close your book and slide it back in your back before taking your plate of strawberry stems to the kitchen and dumping them. you quickly wash the plate and head back to your room, anxiously awaiting your evening.

for the remainder of the time you’re waiting for eddie you clean your room up and then decide to take a quick shower. you tie your hair up in a scrunchie to avoid wetting it and you quickly go through your routine. once you’re out you decide instead of wearing your jeans again that you’ll slip on a black skirt that sits just above your knee, and your hellfire shirt.

finally, 6:40 approaches, and just as he promised eddie is in your driveway at that exact moment. you grab your notebook and a pen along with the dice set he gave you and run out to meet him.

you hop in the van and your nerves return, but you try to play it cool. you make it to the school and you’re let in by some of the faculty who have to facilitate after school gatherings, but eddie assures you none of them ever sit in on the sessions.

he gets all of his stuff laid out and puts up his dm screen before sitting down on this throne-like chair. you try not to stare at him, but the way he’s sitting so relaxedly with his legs spread open is making you squirm.

you’d always thought eddie was attractive, but something about him being in his element like this was really tempting to you, and you figured that’s why you were so nervous to play.

all of his friends start pouring into the room and taking their places and eddie has to quiet them down a few times before he can begin.

“y/n won’t be playing immediately, but if you don’t mind would you tell us your characters race and class please?” he asks you, his tone a lot softer than what he uses for the boys.

“um, my character is a hobbit and my class is cleric.” you say nervously, staring at the table.

“a hobbit, huh?” eddie teases. “that’s accurate.”

you can hear his friends dustin and mike laughing insanely loud at his jest. “shove it, henderson.” you say, finally scanning the room. “you’re about 4’6, yeah?” you joke.

the rest of the room laughs at your joke and after a minute more of teasing you get right into the game. eddie was able to work your character in as someone the party met at some stables, and they figured they’d need your spellcasting abilities to help them in battle.

the session goes on for a while and you’re really having a lot of fun, but you can’t take your eyes off of eddie. his facial expressions, his tone of voice, all the gestures he makes towards the party. he’s so immersed and it’s driving you a little crazy. seeing him so passionate is nothing less than hot to you.

it’s time to wrap the game up and you’re just finishing your battle when it’s dustin’s turn to roll for attack. he just makes it and the room erupts, cheering that he finally slayed the beast you’d been fighting.

“congratulations, henderson. describe the killing blow.” eddie beams. dustin goes on to describe some disgustingly gruesome scene and you continue to stare at eddie until he catches your eye, to which you finally look away. when dustin is done talking everyone clears out, leaving you and eddie alone to pick up so he can take you home.

“you did so well tonight! i was so proud of you!” he beams, reaching out to ruffle your hair. his praise makes your body stiffen.

“something wrong?” he asks, walking up behind you and placing his chin on your shoulder. you’re not sure if you can make words but you try to force them out anyway. “um, no eds. i-i’m fine!” you manage, shuffling away from him. his hand catches your hip and spins you around to face him.

“really? you seemed to be staring at me the whole game. have i upset you?” he ponders, leaning in so his breath fans your face. it smells slightly smoky and slightly like mint, and you’re dizzy for a moment.

you assure him he hadn’t, and once again you try to move away, but his grip tightens. “well, i’m really proud of you.” he reiterates, watching you squirm under his gaze. you can almost feel your cheeks flush and your pupils dilate.

he leans in even closer, speaking into your ear. “do you like when i tell you how good you are?” he asks, his voice a bit lower, a tinge raspier.

“oh fuck off, eddie.” you choke out, pushing a hand against his chest.

“is that any way to talk to your dungeon master?”

he pulls away from your face slightly and tilts up your chin with his pointer finger. “my apologies master,” you tease sarcastically, “forgive me?”

this time it’s your turn to taunt him, so you push your hand up his chest and wrap it around the back of his throat, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. he takes a step closer to you and you shudder when you realize just how close he is to you.

“that’s a pretty little skirt you have on.” he whispers. your whole body shudders. “eddie..” you whine, tugging at his hair lightly.

“hmmm.. what is it baby?” he leans in so your noses are touching. “please eddie, kiss me.” you beg, your voice an octave higher than usual. he places his left hand on your other hip before finally closing the gap between your lips.

you aren’t expecting his lips to be so soft. you also aren’t expecting to feel so drunk off his kiss immediately. it’s experimental, but it quickens. he swipes his tongue along your bottom lip and you part your lips for him. he slides his tongue into your mouth and he moans as he feels you suck on it gently.

his hands have made their way around your backside and he slips one past your skirt, keeping it still until he can gauge your reaction. when you don’t stop him, he grabs a handful of your ass before lifting you up and placing you on the nearby table. you whine into his kiss and he presses himself between your legs.

you kiss each other hungrily for what feels like hours until you finally pull away. “hey, let’s get outta here.” you propose, and he nods, moving away so you can grab all of his stuff. his expression takes on that of a lost puppy.

you grab him by the arm and he looks over at you, so you reassure him. “eds, i didn’t wanna stop… i just don’t really wanna fuck in the school after hours.”

“f-fuck,” he stammers, “you wanna.. we’re gonna.. oh my god we’re gonna fuck?”

you shake your head yes at him. “if you want to… let’s go back to your place?” you ask. “hell yeah. hell yes we are going to my place!” he says ecstatically. you grab up all of his stuff and practically race out to his van. he gets you back to his uncle's place in record time and you go in quickly, headed for his room.

once you’re in you waste no time in reconnecting your lips to his. he disconnects to pull his shirt over his head and you moan when you can see all of his tattoos. you lightly scrape your nails over them before reaching behind you and unzipping your skirt, letting it fall to the floor.

“cute panties.” he says smugly, and you slap his arm. you made sure to wear one of your favorite pairs, baby blue and cotton with a pink heart on the front. he sits back on his bed against the headboard and you crawl into his lap, leaning down to kiss his neck. his hands find your hips and he moans as you lick a stripe just below his ear, biting it seconds after.

“kiss me again.” he says, his raspy tone going straight to your core. you connect your lips with his and soon after your tongues are meeting, sliding against each other as you makeout hungrily. your hips start grinding involuntarily but he uses his grip on your hips to help you. you can feel your cheeks flush.

“no need to be embarrassed baby,” he says, almost reading your mind, “if it feels good, then do it. feel how hard i am?”

and you could. you could tell he was straining as you continued to grind your now soaked panties across his lap. after a few more minutes you’re mewling and whining loudly, then you finally beg him to touch you.

“what do you want?” he asks lowly, hands palming at your ass. “want you to touch me, eddie. please.” you whine, arching into him. he slides you off his lap and pushes you down onto the bed so that your back is arched, in a face down ass up position.

“okay, princess,” he teases, rubbing your left thigh softly, “but first you need a punishment for how you talked to me earlier. remember that?”

you let out a deep whine as you feel him grab your panties and rip them down your legs. you clench as you feel the cool air hit your core. “just one, okay? that’s all.” he says, massaging your ass. a second later his hand is gone, and is quickly replaced again with a loud crack. you could feel the cool metal of his rings stinging against your ass sharply. seconds later he leans in to kiss the spot, a gesture to make sure you’re okay.

when he can tell you’re fine he rolls you over onto your back and slides your panties off your legs completely, tossing them to the floor. he pushes your thighs apart and stares down at you, fully exposed for him.

“fuck.” he groans, taking all of you in. “you have the prettiest pussy i’ve ever seen.”

you blush at his comment and throw your arm over your face to hide it. you feel him run two fingers along your slit to gather some of your slick before dipping them into you. he leans down and spits on your clit before his thumb from his other hand rubs tight circles into it. your back arches and you begin to work your hips in time with his hands.

“fuck yeah, baby. fuck yourself on my hands. that’s my good girl.”

my good girl. you shudder again.

“eddie, i’m close!” you warn, his fingers curling inside of you and working your g-spot deliciously. “come on then, lemme see that little pussy cum for me.” he commands, and you’re teetering over the edge. it’d been a while since you came that hard, and eddie wears a proud smirk as he watches your legs shake with aftershocks.

he stands from the bed and you look him up and down, eagerly watching as he unclasps the handcuffs on his belt. his zipper is down soon after and then he’s shuffling out of his jeans, not leaving you much to the imagination. your mouth waters as you see the outline in his briefs - and he is big.

you didn’t notice your mouth hanging open. he sheds his underwear before crawling over you and you admire how tidy his pubic hair is kept… and then you wonder if that’s weird. you won’t say anything.

he positions himself between your legs and leans down to kiss your neck, whispering to you teasingly. “what’s wrong, worried it won’t fit?”

“i don’t care. i want it.” you assure him, and he slides his tip through your folds quickly before pressing his cock inside of you finally. you take it slowly, inch by inch, until he’s bottomed out.

tears prick at the corners of your eyes because of the stretch, but he wipes them away sweetly. “it’s okay, we’re gonna take our time.” he promises, and you lightly tug at his hair. “you can move, please move.”

he pulls his hips back slowly before rutting into you again, working at a slow but delicious pace. “fuck eds, that f-feels so fucking good.” you whine, your hands still tugging at his hair. each time you pull on his hair it spurs him to go faster, and soon he’s pounding into you so hard that you barely recognize the voice coming from your throat.

his fingers dig into your hips and you know the indentions from his rings will leave bruises for you to admire for days. he’s letting out soft moans above you and if he hadn’t been speaking to you so filthy this entire time they’d almost warm your heart.

“i’m not gonna last.” he warns you, his hips snapping into yours quickly. you reach your hand down between your bodies and start to rub your clit, to which he lets out a filthy whine.

“cum for me, baby. let me feel it. cum for me again.” he coaxes, his breathing laboured. a few seconds later you feel the band snap again and your body arches upward as your second orgasm hits you, the sensation washing over you and making you lose vision for a second.

seconds later he pulls out and finishes himself off in his hand.

“holy shit. you’ve been keeping that from me?” he laughs, wiping his hand with some article of clothing he found on the floor. “you could’ve had it if you’d asked.” you tell him, being completely honest.

he walks back over to you and leans down to place a gentle kiss to your forehead. when he pulls back a playful smirk tugs at his lips. “well in that case, do you wanna fuck?”

you grab a pillow from his bed and smack him with it before he lunges at you, pressing kisses into your neck and softly tickling your sides. “i think i really like this, eds.”

“me too.” he assures you, laying down and pulling you onto his chest.

tags: @alwayzthere @strangersingold @garbagevanfleet @harmonyhous @obetrolncocktails (message me to be added!)

#eddie munson #eddie x reader smut #eddie munson smut #eddie #stranger things smut #stranger things 4 #stranger things eddie #reader x eddie munson #reader x eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie x reader

[undead-merman]

Day Eleven: Magic Ritual

GN Tav with Astarion

Contains blood, Me being a nerd about DnD and using real locations from the Sword's Coast.

It’s been years. You’d traveled without the sun on your body for over five years now, maybe six if you were paying attention to that kind of stuff. Astarion is sure to have the date if you asked him, he’s sentimental like that, or a bit bitter, depending on the day. You’ve been all over the swords coast by this point, made new allies, seen them come and go. Most of them left when they discovered his true nature but you never let them hurt him. One of them had to put down due to her violent reaction, Should have never let a Cleric come with. It’s been tiring, but you never gave up. You were determined as you searched for a way to allow him to walk into the sun’s glory once more and cure him of his undeath. All these years you’ve kept him safe. From the sun, down to the littlest kobold who so much as dare to make a job.

You had gone as far as The World’s Spine and over to the Sea of Fallen Stars. You then found yourself in a cave settled deep in the Wood of Sharp Teeth after braving Durlag's Tower. Traveled down into the depths of its basement, a hellish labyrinth, but it was finally in hand. A scroll of true resurrection. The weight exceeded that of mere parchment; it held Astarion's future. But hell’s you both were dead tired. You could have passed out for at least a tenday, perhaps even more. Your lover looked the same as well. Too tired to even comb the caked on gore from his hair. Both of you slouch as the campfire takes hold of the kindling.

You reach into your pack and start taking out the scroll. Its aged parchment felt fragile in your hands, and as you opened it to study the ciphers you heard a noise of protest.

“Darling, as excited as I am to finally have the damned thing, don’t you think it might be better to rest? Who knows what might happen. Why it might blow us both up in the process if your droopy eyed gaze reads a symbol wrong. As much as I do love your empty-headed stares.”

You give a tired laugh at his sass. “Of course I want to do it now. I don’t want you to wait a second longer. I want our next sunrise to be this one.” you couldn’t stop the smile from creeping onto your face.

His eyebrows knit together, making the lines on his face more prominent before melting away into a soft smile, one that you see so rarely yet one only reserved for you.

“As charming as that was, it’s still powerful magic. I’ve waited over two hundred years, I can wait a few more days.” The love of your life holds his arms open, inviting you in.

How could you say no?

-

It wasn’t a tenday, it was hardly a full rest before you had snuck out of Astarion’s arms and started reading over the scroll. It was a novel, each word must be spoken perfectly and without a single quiver of your voice. It would be a testament to your reading and acting skills if you managed to pull this off. You kept the fire burn as you went over every glyph and gesture in grueling detail. After nearly up the continent and back, traveling to find the damned thing. Not just that, rumor chasing, reading through old tomes to find such a spell to help, doing favors, slaying more monsters than you could count. So much work came down to this, of course you couldn’t sit still.

Your eyes had drifted over to his mediating form. He looked so peaceful. Everything, everything was for him. He'd know freedom once more, pure freedom.

You must have made a noise, his eye peeked open. Astarion’s face bore a miniature frown. “Darling what are you doing?”

“You thought I’d be able to sleep?”

“Well, I had certainly hoped so. Especially when I so graciously offered my arms as your own pillows.” he stood and approached with soft steps as his ivory palm touches your shoulder.

Your eyes went back to the cyphers, and he looked over your shoulder to see. You both sat in comfortable silence. He was listening to the sound of your breathing. His scent filled your nose, pleasant and not overwhelming, you’d miss it when it was gone. You had gotten used to the fragrance, you were going to miss the sight of that little bottle he carried in his front satchel. You’d grown fond of smelling it bright and early in the night as he would pluck it out and tap it against his neck, his stomach, wrist, wrist and legs.

You were on the eve of change, and it thrilled you, yet there was anxiety. So much would shift, so many things would branch and become new. You were sure Astarion felt it to a much more intense degree. You smiled, remembering asking him about Cazador and how he mouthed off.

“I won’t leave you.”

You hummed in question giving him your full attention. He had that old stress line over his forehead, he was being serious. “When I remove this curse, I won’t just leave you. I made a promise to be with you. I don’t intend to change that. As far as I’m concerned, we are together, for as long as you’ll have me.”

You pressed a gentle kiss to his nose, so soft that even a moth would not mind its caress. “Let us be forever then.” He tilted his head up and his lips met yours, they were as soft as the first time. Peck after peck, you both traded until they became deeper, his tongue delicately finds your lips but never breaches.

You peeled yourself away reluctantly, eyes focused on Astarion’s. Wet. Not enough to fall from his eyes, but enough to haven shown a gleam of his true emotions. You would have kissed them away if they had spilled out.

“Come on. Let’s get you back to your mortal self, shall we?” You proclaimed with a broad grin, extending your hand. With unwavering determination, he accepted. To be loved, it to be changed. And you are sure, without a doubt in your heart, Astraion was the most beloved person in this realm.

You will change together, evolve as one.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 astarion #dnd locations #real dnd lore cause im a fucking nerd #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #collab'oween

[armchairaleck]

Alright, Claudia piece I've been thinking of..

The s6 trailer both consolidated these thoughts and made me wonder if this was a bit eccentric, but hey... I wanted to write it, so..

No real warnings I can think of, it's just dark magic and stuff..

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

I am my father’s child.

I used to think I was more like my mother. I look like her.

People would tell me that, the ones who’d used to know her. Oh, you have your mothers eyes, they said, or her smile, or her laugh. I had the same black hair as her.

Once I had that hair.

It’s more white than black now.

That’s what I remember the most about her, the way when she held me close her hair would cascade over me, like a dark curtain and tickle my face. The way it always smelt of almond soap, a smell that was peculiarly hers. A smell that was all the warm things in the world - the cakes she used to bake with raisins in, the scarfs she would knit for us when the autumn winds came, the armchair where I used to sit curled in her lap like a cat. Since she left I’ve never smelt anything quite like it again.

Other memories I have are more vague, the sound of the piano drifting through the wall while I played by the fire. I never needed to pay it much attention, but there was always some odd comfort in hearing it and knowing that she was there. The nights when she and my father would read us stories together, my brother nestled under my father’s arm, myself between the two of them and I would rest my head on her chest and absorb the soft vibrations of her voice.

There were other things I didn’t understand, adult things, strange mysteries. My brother lying in bed for days, my mother and father arguing, my father and Kpp’Ar arguing, and the way that suddenly the arguing simply stopped. The voices ceased.

I discovered that people could leave as if you meant nothing, as if all the hidden parts of you that you wanted them to love were not important at all.

When I was six my mother left. I watched her take her things, two leather saddle bags sitting on the bed, each possession that she carefully folded into them.

I remember her wrapping the necklace that my father gave her in a cloth. It was my favourite thing of hers, a gold chain with a green stone that matched her eyes. I’d always loved to play with that necklace, to watch the light of the sun catch on each edge of it and cast its ghostly glimmer over her skin.

Her other things went later, picked up in a carriage, and the holes that they left simply remained empty spaces that my father never filled.

I didn’t say goodbye.

I watched her throw on her travelling cloak. I told myself I wouldn’t cry. I told myself I would be strong, but I ran up the castle battlements all the same. I couldn’t help that. One last glimpse I’d told myself. When I saw her growing smaller, getting further and further away, I wanted to catch her, I wanted to run straight back down the stairs and chase after her, but I knew it was no good. I would never be fast enough, and when I shouted the wind only whipped my voice away.

She didn’t turn back.

I didn’t cry then. It wasn’t until much later and always alone. I was my father’s child.

For years I thought I was not like him, he was always so serious, he rarely smiled. Years passed and the warmth on his face grew less and less, his eyes became dead places that the light couldn’t reach. I didn’t think I could ever be like that. Soren and I used to laugh about it, the more solemn he grew the more we felt we had to smile. We both knew there was something missing, something we had to cover with jokes until it almost seemed as if it was okay, as if we were just like any other family, but we weren’t. We could never be like that.

When I was seven my father let me work in his study. I liked it there. In the summer the sun came in through the tall windows and I could watch its path along each stone and always know the time of day. When the wild grey winter came and the winds howled outside the castle walls, that was when I felt happiest, the fire crackling, my father bent over a book, and the rain hammering down against the window. The two of us together lost in some other world that belonged only to us.

He would show me things, little tricks he called them. The way you could make a ball of fire from an emberback spider and let the flame play on your palm without burning your skin. The way you could take the feather of a lunarflare owl and use it to make objects dance in the air as if they were being pulled by invisible strings. He often did this, he would bring our toys alive and conjure up forests and magical creatures for my brother and me before we went to bed.

Later he showed me his other study, the one that twisted down spiral stairs, deep into the earth, where the stones radiated their cold chill over everything. Ours were the sunless places, damp and dark, where no one else liked to tread. There he showed me other things. A way of conjuring a half-life from ashes sprinkled over flame, and the way you could make it bend to your will. He showed me how to split essence from matter and ways of keeping each suspended in a half realm that was neither death nor life. Together we delved into long forgotten secrets, found hidden things lost to time, and discovered other things that belonged only to us.

He taught me that there was an answer to every problem if you searched hard enough.

There were things I learnt down there that I will not speak of, for they are better hidden. There is a deeper darkness to magic, one of blood and sweat and pain. My father taught me this, but he asked me not to call on it unless the need was dire. This magic had a cost to it, a sacrifice that you alone must make. It is hard to understand, most people call it evil, perhaps it is, or perhaps it is simply something they have no words to describe and so it frightens them. It is easy enough to hate what you fear.

They want this magic though, when there is no other choice, they desire what it can give them, and they take it. Once my father bought land back to life through the heart of a titan and the sheer force of his will. I was the only one who knew the true price of it and yet even then I found something about it that soared beyond beauty. I knew that one day I too would do beautiful things and that no one else would see the wonder in them. 

I saw the way people looked at my father, with fear in their eyes, the way they would one day look at me.

There was a dream I had when I first did dark magic.

It seemed almost endless and full of possibilities. There was a little girl there. She was just like me, but her hair was bleached bone white, and her skin was brittle like parchment that had been left too long in the sun. I liked her. She smiled at me and held out her hand and she led me away into the trees.

The woods grew thick and knotted, twisted this way and that, and they held out their branches like hands. We slipped between them and she showed me many things. There was a river, dark as blood, and on its bank strange creatures danced, their eyes held flames of different colours, their teeth were sharp and yellow and yet they did not frighten me, I wanted to dance with them. The girl taught me the names for all of these things and they slipped off her tongue like quciksilver.

We went looking for lost things that were impossible to find and yet there was some comfort in the seeking. Fire blazed around us and we jumped through flames. I did not mind, it was no different from the way my world seemed to burn around me.

This other place was somehow reassuring. I felt I could find things there instead of losing them and I wanted to stay, I wanted to get lost there forever, to follow each path as far as it went.

I remember the wrench of waking from that dream, my father was beside me, his face pale in the candlelight and he held me. I knew that this was a place he had also been to.

I found a way to go back there, a way to it through the edge of your dreams. Each night before I went to sleep I closed my eyes and imagined it in great detail, the little girl with the dark eyes, the twisted trees and the paths, the red river and the dancing. Each night the dreams returned and I went further and further into them.

I talked with serpents, they taught me peculiar things, the first words for everything, the ones that had been lost even to the dragons, the magical words that had moulded the world into being and they sat strangely on my tongue. There were great owls that let me ride on their backs, their cold black feathers sleek beneath my hands. They flew me up above the world until I could see more than the human eye had ever viewed. I could see the way the world shone, moon and sky, earth and ocean, sun and stars, all of these things linked by dark magic and some other, unknowable power that existed beneath it all. I sang wordless melodies with creatures that seemed too fantastic to exist until the air moved in patterns with our tune.

I told my father about these dreams and I saw the worry on his face. He was always tired. He told me I mustn’t go too far, he told me to remember my way back, and he told me a story of a child who got lost in their dreams like that. Of the changelings that existed there, of the way they would take a child and leave only a slumbering body in its bed, a body that would never wake again.

After that he went to great trouble to get me a primal stone so I could cast other magic. I felt a wild storm raging behind a perfect sphere, and I learnt many spells of the sky, but even though I knew it intimately, even though I felt its fury and its bite, it did not draw me like that other magic.

I could not stop my dreams, I would not have wanted to. The little girl was always there waiting for me and we grew up together. It was nice to have a girl to play with, the castle was full of boys and they couldn’t share my secrets the way she did. Dark sister, she called me and we made pacts of blood and bone and our hearts seemed to beat as one.

I dreamt of a spell that would make my mother come back. I believed there had to be such a spell, there was magic for so many other things, that if I could only find it our lives would be complete. My father would be happy again, my brother would return to the boy he had once been, the one who liked my magic, the one who asked for me to watch him while he slept and keep him safe.

Years passed though and my mother did not come back.

I grew used to it, and then I grew so that I would not have known what to say to her if she had returned. She would have known nothing of me. I felt it with my brother too, the way I could no longer share some mysteries, the way I had to hide parts of myself just as my father did.

The years did something to my father, they seemed to alter him until sometimes he was almost unrecognisable to me. The more he worked, the more it seemed to cost him, and yet he was driven like me to go on.

There were days when my father sat with his head in his hands as if he no longer knew what to do. He gazed for hours at the wall, or stared at a book without ever turning the page. I asked him what was wrong but he couldn’t seem to tell me.

I was older then though, I could piece things together. I had learned to read him the way he had once read me and I wanted to help him. Perhaps I thought I would lose him too, that he would get lost in those dark places that seemed a part of him and that I would wake one day and find he too had gone.

So I listened at doors, I slipped into his study when no one was there, and I leafed through his books and papers until I knew what he wanted and why he despaired of it. Some things are nothing much more than dreams, shapes that once emerged from misty glades but have drifted now beyond time, into some other place where the grass is a richer green.

He wanted the horn of a unicorn.

There are a thousand stories that have been written about unicorns. Tales of their pity, of the way they harnessed the ocean, sky and earth into stones and gave them to humans once, that these were the original primal stones used to give us magic. That they could shift their shape this way and that and even disappear completely. Some people said that they had been hunted from this world, others that they had simply slipped through a veil into another realm completely.

A thousand stories but not one sighting, not for centuries if you believed the books.

Still I felt that I might try, I might somehow find a way. Not because I had any great skill or power, but simply because I had once seen the way laid out for me.

It happened when I was quite small, not long after my mother left. I had wandered through the shell of what had once been a home. It was cold and empty then and I was filled with sadness, I felt as if my whole world was crumbling around me and I longed to stop it. Right in the heart of it I found a creature made of rock, and its sorrow flowed like the sea. I thought that perhaps if I could stop its sadness that mine might also end one day.

When I set it free the creature gave me a map, not the sort of map you could follow by points on a compass, it was only a place you could feel for, reach into with your heart, and if the heart longs for something hard enough perhaps there is still a way to find it.

My heart longed for so many things.

Years later when I needed it, I knew somehow the way that I must go and the secrets required to get there. 

First you must cover your eyes because it wouldn’t do to see the way. Cover your eyes and sing the secret songs. Then you must walk into the woods quite without fear, if you are afraid the woods would simply swallow you up, these woods are very cold and dark. You will feel the chill, wet bark beneath your fingers, and you will hear the crunch of leaves on the ground that sound like brittle bones breaking beneath your feet. You will sense a hundred things out there that are ready to turn you to smoke and you must never flinch.

The further you walk, the more your hope will drain from you and that is when you will know yourself truly, and what you can endure.

I could bear these things, the world had already taught me that, so I walked on until the darkness seemed to fade and I could feel a light beyond me. A voice rang out and filled my mind, it was the most wonderful sound I had ever heard. It told me to uncover my eyes and I did, and the beauty I saw was ethereal. It was something quite beyond anything I had ever imagined, I wish I could describe better, it seemed to shine with starlight as if it had stepped down from the heavens themselves. At the time I believed I would never forget a single hair of it, but there must have been some magic because now I can only see it vaguely, the fleeting outline of its form, the exquisite lines of a face so fine and gentle and kind, and its dark eyes that seemed to stare right into my soul.

I didn’t have to tell it what I wanted, it already knew. Only afterwards did I know the cost of it, that removing the horn of a unicorn denies it the ability to shift into its true form, that in giving me this gift its shape would be lost to it forever. The creature shifted in front of me, became a pale girl with sky blue eyes and I held a horn in my hands, it glowed and its light grew brighter and brighter until the girl and the woods and the trees all disappeared and the sun burst in through my window.

Later it seemed as if this too had been a dream. I awoke in my bed and the first thing I looked for was the unicorn horn. It was there beneath my pillow. I could feel the magic of it, it felt far more powerful than any other object I had ever held, even the sky stone could not touch it. When I gave it to my father his face lit up. He had not looked so happy for a long time, and he took my hand in his own and he told me that everything would be alright.

After that I knew I would never find my way back to the lands of my dreams. There were things I had seen now that were not really for human eyes and could never be explained. I knew that in looking for them I had lost something else.

I never had the dreams again, I never saw the girl with white hair, but she was already a part of me by then, I could talk to her whenever I wanted because the shadow of her was in me. Still there was a sadness to this loss that I cannot put in words, a void that has existed in me ever since.

Later on there were other losses, greater still. My brother left. There were other mysteries, far more arcane perhaps, things that involved the very essence of returning life from death, I had to piece together the only things that remained to me and I will not tell you of that or you would never sleep sound in your bed.

Mine is a different sort of slumber now, it does not give much rest and when I wake I’m always tired.

Now I understand the bone deep ache. It is our own devotion, these things my father taught me in his way. Ours are the places no one else will comprehend, the parts of us we have to kill, and when we do you wonder why there is nothing left.

I loved my father because it is harder to look into darkness and survive than it is to fool yourself that some trick of the light can save you. People will burn their eyes out staring at the sun and they will think it is better to be blind than to know true darkness, to taste the depths our souls contain. He was the last thing I had left and I could not let him go.

I was a little girl once and the world took from me, it took all the things I loved one by one, now it is my turn to take.

I am my father’s child. I hold onto things that are broken and I squeeze until there is nothing left.

I thought I had something of my mother in me, but I do not.

I am my father’s daughter through and through.

#tdp claudia #might bung this on Ao3 but I am also tired so not tonight.. #plus I hear first person POV is hugely hated there so since all my stuff is laughably unpopular I'm a little dubious.. #ehhh idk why tho.. some of my fave books are first person pov.. #anyway I love Claudia.. she can do no wrong by my low moral standards.. #writing

[livwritesstuff]

2002, established relationship, dads!steddie living in boston with their 1yo daughter, another excerpt of this bc i think it's my actual fav part

“I’m done with this goddamn city,” Ed yelled up the stairs, “So fuckin’ serious, Steve. I’m out.”

Steve sighed, well-acquainted with this one of Ed’s many tirades.

Just as he was standing up from where he’d been sitting at his desk looking over some notes and prepping for a counseling session later that afternoon, he heard the door shut loudly (though not a full slam, he noted, because Ed had Moe with him). He headed out into the hallway in time to see Ed coming up the stairs, Moe balanced in one arm.

“What happened now?” Steve asked.

“An idiot BU kid driving Daddy’s Lexus almost T-boned me with Moe in the backseat because — apparently — red lights are just a fucking suggestion here.”

“I mean…I’m pretty sure you ran every red light in Hawkins when you were nineteen.”

It wasn’t a helpful comment, per se, and Steve knew that, but when Ed was riled up like this, there really weren’t any helpful comments available.

“That’s entirely different,” Ed countered, passing Moe over to him so he could pull off his own jacket, “There’s, like, six people on the road at any given moment in Hawkins, and two traffic lights.”

“Okay, well, we can move, love,” Steve said tiredly, steadily approaching his limit for how many times he could listen to Eddie rant about this particular issue without taking any sort of real action to solve it, “Nobody said we had to stay in Boston. Also — we can actually afford to buy a house now, so…”

“Wha— we can?”

“A down payment, yeah.”

“The fuck is a downpayment?”

“Uh…” Steve paused. He’d long since become comfortable with his role in his and Ed’s finances — being that he’s almost entirely in charge of them. He knew that Ed had grown up worrying about money in a way that Steve never had to so he actually liked being able to take over that part of their life together. He liked being able to let Ed not think about it (even though sometimes it meant that his thirty-five-year-old life partner asked him what a goddamn down payment was), “It’s kind of like putting a security deposit down on an apartment, except instead of for securing a lease, it’s for securing a loan — sort of. That’s…there’s better ways of explaining it, and there’s a lot more to it, but it’s sort of like we’re paying a certain amount of the mortgage upfront to prove that we’re committed to paying it off month-to-month.”

“How much is it?”

“Depends,” Steve shrugged, running a hand over Moe’s hair as she started to doze off, her head drooping down to rest on his shoulder, “Pretty sure twenty percent is considered, like, ideal, or something, so it all comes down to what our budget is.”

“What’s our budget?”

Steve leveled an eyebrow at him.

“What?” Ed asked.

“Do you actually wanna know? Because when I tried to show you our electric bill last week you pretended to be asleep.”

“Uh — buying a fuckin’ house together is totally different from you reprimanding me about leaving the heat on too long.”

“I don’t think I’d have to reprimand you anymore if you saw the electric bill.”

“Okay — yes, Stevie, I actually would like to be involved in our finances just this once because I care very, very deeply about us buying a house. I really do.”

“Alright,” he replied, knowing he still sounded a tad skeptical, “I mean, if you actually wanna know about this stuff, I’ve got some spreadsheets I’ve been using to keep track of that kind of thing, and we can—”

“Baby, if you wanted to talk about spreading sheets, all you had to do was ask,” Ed grinned wickedly, an expression that slowly began to fade as his eyes slid off of Steve’s and onto the opposite wall, probably as he considered how wise a comment that had been to make.

Steve stared at him for a long while.

“Okay,” he finally said, “I’m gonna go put our child down for a nap. If in that time you decide you can be a grownup while we talk about spending a fuck-load of money on property we’ll own and be entirely responsible for, let me know.”

“You got it, man.” 

#steddie #steddie dads #steve harrington #eddie munson #the satellite and the sky #in case it wasn't clear i am fed up with bos traffic #eventually eddie convinces steve to show him the spreadsheets and he understands like .001% of them #also steve manages to pin eddie down long enough to show him the electric bill and he does indeed start remembering to turn down the heat

[valthevalkyrie]

A Twist of Fate (1)

A beautiful young woman struggles after trading her life for her father's. When left in the care of a beast she becomes plagued by erotic dreams of a handsome prince. She tries to make the most of her situation but eventually comes to find out the hard way that a happy ending is never guaranteed.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x f!reader (addressed by nickname Belle)

Word Count: 9.6k

Series Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, NONCON/DUBCON, dark fantasy, dark fic, named reader (nickname Belle), blood, monsterfucking, smut (wet dreams, masturbation, fingering, piv, oral sex), angst, unwanted advances, language, degradation, humiliation, possessive behavior, imprisonment, psychosis, major character death, takes place in France like original version, vampire/incubus thing, it admittedly takes a while to get to the dark stuff

A/N: this is for @boxofbonesfic Once Upon a Time... Challenge in celebration for a much deserved 10k followers. This was a lot of fun to write. I did so much research for this, looking at as many versions of beauty and the beast as possible. This grabs a lot of the plot points from the original Villeneuve version. I've written smut like maybe 3 or 4 times and have no real life experience, so please have mercy on me. I had grand ideas for this and hopefully I am able to execute it well.

Once upon a time, there was a man named Eliott. He was once known to be a very lucky man. 

It was hard to pinpoint exactly when Eilott’s luck had turned to shit. 

It could have been when his beautiful and loving wife passed, leaving him to raise six children all on his own. 

Or when his fleet of trade ships were lost at sea, ending his fortune as a merchant and forcing him to move his family to their small summer cottage deep in the woods. 

Who knows. What he did know was that after spending years forcing his entire family to work for a living wage, he’d received word that one of his ships had returned to port. 

He was sure his luck was about to turn for the better. How naive he’d been. At the port, he had been notified that the ship’s cargo had been seized to pay for his debts. And now, on his trip back home, he’s been caught in the middle of a vicious storm. Just his luck. 

The rain was coming down in thick fat drops, pelting his skin and surely leaving bruises on his poor balding head, the blustering winds regularly throwing him about. Eliott had been trekking through the storm for quite a while, having lost his horse and small wagon what felt like hours ago. 

Unbeknownst to him, his horse was on its way home thanks to his innate sense of direction. Eliott, on the other hand, was traveling farther and farther away from his little cottage. 

He slugged through the mud and rain for ages, sustaining scratches and tears on his skin and clothes. The cold ache in his bones from the freezing rain was overwhelming. It was almost a guarantee that every other step was going to be a slip on the uneven ground and every other breath would be full of water thanks to the onslaught of rain. The farther he went, the more gnarled the forest got around him, branches leafless and twisted. 

Just when he thought there would be no end to the storm and he would surely perish in it due to his waning strength, there was a break in the wood. As soon as he breached it, he could just barely make out the faint shape of what must have been an abandoned castle if the overgrown grounds meant anything. 

With deliverance from the storm at his fingertips, he felt a newfound energy surge within him. His gaze was firmly locked on what he could only assume was the door, and he happily ignored his missteps and bumps along the path and through the gate.

Fumbling his way up the ivy overgrown stairs, he raised his hand to knock, out of habit. Just before his knuckles hit the door it opened a smidge all on its own. Startled, he stood there for a moment wondering if maybe it was a result of the wind before the door swung all the way open. Eliott hesitates for just a moment before a crack of thunder sounds and he rushes in. 

The door closes on its own, leaving him in darkness. All is still and quiet until a tall candelabra lights up near the center of the room. He approaches cautiously, rightfully so, for when he is but a foot away it goes out once again. As he debates sleeping in the entryway outside, regardless of the downpour, another candle in a sconce on the wall to his left comes to life. A bit of fear strikes him, for who could be controlling the fire? He approaches that one as well, and as he gets closer it goes out and then another candle farther away turns on. And so the process goes, through hallways and echoey rooms. 

Just when Eliott believes the candles are leading him nowhere, he sees a strip of light at the end of the hallway. Not just the faint aura of candle light, but the glow of a fully lit room. He rushes forward, hoping to meet someone on the other side who could perhaps answer the questions rising in him.

Now that he’s closer to the light he can hear the tinkling of cutlery and he can’t quite figure out what scents are flooding his senses but whatever they are, they’re making his mouth water. 

The shockingly cold doorknob quickly adjusted to his body temperature and an unexpected warmth burst from the room as he opened the door. Very quickly, the tinkling noise of cutlery stopped and all was still in the sizable room. 

The first thing that grabbed his attention was a long black dining table with a feast spread out on top - roasted pig, steak, lamb, cakes, pies, fruits, you name it. Eliott’s knees almost gave out.

Even at his richest, he’d never seen so much food in one setting. He quickly looked to the head of the table closest to him and found no one, the same with the one on the other end. Although he knew it wasn’t proper etiquette, Eliott took a seat to rest his weary feet while he waited for the host. 

While he waited, he took in the decor of the room. It was a bit dark for his tastes but beautiful nonetheless. Everything was black and gilded, the intricate gold decor warming the otherwise foreboding color scheme. The feeling the room gave was still off, as though the glitter of the gold were to distract one from looking too closely at the imperfections all around the room. 

He’d been waiting all of five minutes when a voice spoke up, “monsieur, you are free to eat as much as you please.”

Looking around for the source of the voice, he asked, “and what of the host?”

“Unfortunately, he will not be able to attend but know that he hopes you enjoy the meal.”

“All of this is for me?” 

“Yes, although I suggest sitting closer to the fireplace so you can warm up.”

Eliott does as he’s told and takes the seat right in front of the fireplace. As he gets comfortable he looks at the assortment of food in front of him trying to decide what to eat first. A bowl of grapes catches his attention and as he pops one in his mouth, he realizes just how hungry he is. 

Once he starts eating he can’t stop, can’t seem to get enough. He gorges himself on the food in front of him, juices and grease dribbling down his chin, but he can’t bring himself to clean it up. Never before in his life had he had such horrible table manners, and he couldn’t even bring himself to care. Everything he grabs is rich in flavor, quite literally the best food he’s ever eaten. After what feels like ages he’s finally full and he leans back in his chair, chest heaving as though he’d done a tremendous amount of exercise. 

He doesn’t fight it once he starts to doze off, stomach full and the heat of the fire at his back. 

“Did you enjoy your meal, monsieur?” 

Eliott startled at the voice. “Oh, very much so. Thank you.”

“If you would follow me, I would show you to your room so you can rest for the night.”

A door to the far right opens and an older man is suddenly in the doorway. Eliott knows a butler when he sees one (having had many of his own at one point) and he’s relieved to have some company after spending so much time alone in such a dark and grand place. Rising from his seat, he tries to clean his face a bit before heading towards the strange man. 

Once he was close enough, Eliott could see the flaws in the butler’s appearance. Not only were his clothes faded and worn, the edges of his sleeves were eaten away by moths. After the feast he was presented with, he’d expected someone a bit more put together.

One by one, the candles came back to life as they passed through hallways and up the stairs. Eliott tried to look around and see the condition of the rest of the castle, but it was too dark.

“This is where you will be staying,” the butler said as they stopped in front of a door. “There will be a change of clothes on the bed. You mustn't leave the room until morning, Master’s orders.”

Eliott nodded and made his way into the bedroom. Before he could turn to ask the butler something, the door closed behind him. He shrugged and went about changing out of his wet clothes. While old and worn, the clothing provided to him was comfortable and the bed sheets soft. 

As soon as his head hit the pillow, the events of the day caught up to him. A drowsiness like he had never felt before overtook him and just as he drifted off he couldn’t help but think his luck might be turning for the better. By the time his bedroom door opened, he was fast asleep.

Eliott was overcome by dark and carnal dreams. Dreams he’d not had for ages. Usually when he had dreams of that variety, he’d conjure up his beloved wife in a loving setting. Now, he was dreaming of a handsome young man with long curly hair, deep brown eyes and a penchant for biting. 

When he awoke, all that remained of his dreams were flashes of skin and feelings of pleasure. When he threw the covers off, he found a mess in his lap. Overcome by embarrassment (for he’d not done such a thing since he was a budding young man) he rushed to take off his clothes. 

In doing so, he took note of all of the cuts and bruises from the trek through the storm the night before. He found a large pair of puncture wounds but shrugged it off as probable wounds from his many stumbles. 

Nestled and folded on a chair near the door to the room were his clothes from the day before. He didn’t remember folding them but shrugged it off as poor memory from being so tired. As he put them on, he took advantage of the sunlight and looked around the room. How odd that the outside of the castle looked so abandoned and forgotten while the inside looked mostly dusty and unused. Much like the dining room, the bedroom was gilded except instead of black, the room was a dark and deep blue. 

The butler was nowhere to be seen when he opened the bedroom door. Taking advantage of the opportunity, Eliott walked around the castle, absorbing as much as he could. He took note that the rest of the castle was similar to the dining room; black and gilded, furniture grand and elegant. 

He found his way onto a balcony overcome with vines of ivy. From his position, he could see a forgotten gazebo surrounded by what seemed to be an overgrown garden. 

A memory sprung to his mind at the sight of the garden. 

“When I return from my journey, what would you like me to bring you,” he’d asked his children. 

It was something he used to do before, back when he was a successful merchant. He would leave on business for a while and return with gifts for all of his loved ones. While they were all adults now and working on their own, he wanted to perhaps revive an old tradition since it appeared his once lost fortune was at his fingertips. 

“Papa, Papa,” his eldest daughter Elyna cried. “Bring us the finest clothes you can buy.”

His second daughter, Anna added, “we’re tired of these rags.” 

He laughed and turned to his boys, Matheo, Gabriel, and Raphael. 

“We wouldn’t mind newer clothes, Père. If you are to regain your fortune, we would like to look the part as we once did,” Matheo, his eldest, said. His brothers agreed. 

Finally, Eliott turned to his youngest of the six, his little beauty. “And what would you like, ma belle?”

“I just wish for your safe return, Papa. It has been a very long time since you’ve made the journey and we know not what dangers may lie ahead.”

He brushed her off, “oh, nonsense. I will be fine. What would you like?”

“Really, that is all I desire.”

“Belle,” he said sternly. “I would like to bring you something physical. Please do me the favor of picking something, anything.”

“Fine,” she sighed. “I would love a rose. It’s been a very long time since I’ve seen one and you know they don’t grow on this side of the country.”

Eliott smiled and tapped her nose. “Very well, then. A beautiful rose for ma belle.”

His little beauty. One would think he’d find Anna the most beautiful of all the children, considering she took after her mother physically, but she was mean spirited and vain, much like Elyna. The boys had a good mix of their parents and were hard working and intelligent, like him. His youngest, though, was well read, kind hearted, grateful for all she had, and had the best features of both her parents. Not only was she beautiful on the outside, but she was beautiful on the inside. She didn’t make him feel like a failure of a parent, and that made her his favorite. 

Eliott quickly made his way down to the garden, searching high and low for a rose. The bushes of flowers bled into one another, making it difficult to see where one type ended and the other began. He was just about to lose hope completely when he had almost reached the gazebo and not found a rose, but then he caught a flash of red inside the gazebo. 

Once inside, he felt happiness bloom in his chest. He’d not been able to get the gifts for the others, but he would be able to bring a gift to one. Better something than nothing at all. 

“Good morning, monsieur. Please follow me to the dining room so you can break your fast before your journey.” The butler was fast approaching the gazebo with a panicked look on his face. 

“Just a moment, I’m going to pick a flower.”

“Oh, please do not. My master-”

“He won’t notice, it’ll just be the one.” 

Mindful of the thorns, he plucked a rose. Seeing just how perfect and shapely it was, he decided to pluck a few more to make a bouquet. He had scarcely plucked the plumpest buds he could find when he heard the butler shout. 

It was as if all the air had been sucked out of his lungs when he turned, for there was a beast in front of him. It looked like a bat, but it was twice his size, piercing eyes staring right into his. A hand grasped the front of his shirt and lifted him out of the gazebo. He looked down to find a pair of black, leathery arms connected to the giant bat’s torso and he’d been lifted high off the ground. 

“Is this how you show your gratitude after I show you hospitality? By stealing from me,” it shrieked. Eliott flinched for the beast’s yell had a hint of a high pitch under the strong timbre and it pierced his ears.

“I didn’t know! I’m sorry! I’m sorry,” Eliott cried.

The beast hissed at him. “Humans now are so ungrateful. I should have drained you dry when I had the chance.” He growled, arms bringing Eliott closer to his face all the while ignoring the man’s pleas for his life.

“Please, spare me. I assure you, I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. I meant no disrespect.” A pair of sharp fangs and equally menacing teeth come into Eliott’s line of sight and he struggles to free himself. “Please, I was just picking them for my daughter!”

The creature ceases all movement. “Daughter?”

“Yes! Please, my children need me. I’m their only living parent.” Tears and mucus run down his face, hands trying to break the hold the beast has on him. Eliott feels himself be lowered.

“Tell me of your children.”

He speaks quickly of everything that comes to mind when thinking of his children. He speaks of his dead wife and all of the work the children have done to help him run the house, the most helpful being his youngest. He tells the beast of the gifts he promised to give to his children when he came back from his trip. 

The beast lifts a hand to stop his rant. “Very well. You may live.” 

Eliott expels a sigh of relief.

“As long as you give your word that one of your children will take your place.”

Eliott feels his face drain of all color. “But how am I to choose? What will you do to them?”

“The first living being that greets you upon your arrival will be the one to take your place. They must be under no illusions or misconceptions about the reason for their stay. And you need not worry about their fate. I will take better care of them than you did my roses.” He turns to his butler. “Prepare him for the trip back. And be sure to get him a change of clothes, he seems to have soiled himself.”

And so it went. The creature was kind enough to send him off with a new horse and wagon with chests full of finery, jewels and wealth. 

Eliott encountered no storms on his way home and spent the entire trip stressing over who would welcome him first. He tried to think of all the pros and cons of each child being forced to live with the beast and could think of no one he would rather send away. The biggest pro of all was that his luck had definitely turned for the better. To be confronted by a beast and then sent off with riches galore? If that was not the definition of luck he did not know what was. The only thing he was sure of was that he wanted his youngest daughter far away and deep in the woods upon his arrival. 

A sweat began to build up and his breathing quickened when he recognized the well worn path to his little cottage. Eliott kept his eyes peeled as he approached his home. From this distance, he could see a couple of heads bobbing about in the small garden out front and his family dog sleeping in the doorway. The closer he got, the clearer their faces became. 

Raphael and his youngest were working in the small garden. Oh, how Eliott prayed that Raphael would notice him first. 

As his luck (that fickle thing) would have it, his youngest daughter noticed his arrival and waved at her father. She quickly set down her tools and hurried over.

“Papa! You’re safe,” she squinted from the sun as she looked up at him. “We were so worried when Phillipe showed up without you.” She raised a calloused hand in greeting at the horse he rode, “hello.” She turned back to him with a stern look on her face. “Where have you been?

Tears quickly filled his eyes and he said nothing as he searched the bag next to him for the rose that set a curse upon his family. Eliott handed it to his daughter and discreetly wiped the tear that fell down his cheek. 

She softened. “Oh, Papa. You shouldn’t have.”

“You’re right,” he sighed. “It came at a great cost.”

Her eyes widened. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Gather your siblings. I have news about where I’ve been.”

She did as she was told and soon enough everyone was gathered in their small dining room, chests from the wagon on the table. All but one child chatted and speculated over what was in the chests. His youngest instead kept a close eye on her father, for she had noticed his somber disposition.

“Before I tell you where I’ve been, why don’t you open that up and see what I have brought home.” 

Elyna was the first to put her hands on one of the chests, snapping off the latches and swinging it open. She shrieked in delight at the sight of the beautiful gown laid out on top. “Does this mean the fortune really came back? Will we finally be rid of this place?”

Eliott shifted on his feet and swallowed deeply. “Perhaps you should all take a seat.” 

He told them of his journey to port and how everything on the ship had been seized to pay for his debts. The trip back home and the storm that disoriented him. The castle and the sentient candles. The grand feast that was presented to him and the room he slept in. The garden out back and the rose he picked. The beast who appeared and demanded he sacrifice a child to save his life. He told them how he’d have to go about choosing which child would go in his stead. 

Anna stood up and pointed to his youngest. “Do you see what happens when you are greedy? Look at what you made happen! You should be the one to leave and right your wrongs. You were the first to greet our papa and the one who landed him in this mess. Now you sort it out.”

Her brothers were quick to defend their youngest sister and even quicker there was a shouting match between the six. 

“Enough,” Eliott slammed his hands on the table. 

“Worry not, Père, for I shall slay the beast and ensure our little belle’s safety.” Matheo stepped forward. As usual, his brothers agreed.

“No, no, no. I forbid any of you going anywhere near the beast and his castle. We shall continue on as though nothing has happened. I will invest the small capital he gave me and ensure the return of the family fortune.”

“Papa, I do not think that wise.”

“Ma belle,” he placed his hands on her cheeks, ”I will not sacrifice your life for mine. I made a mistake, like we all do. Now we learn from it and move on. Do you understand?”

She was quiet for a moment, and he saw a flash of defiance in her eyes before it died out and she nodded. 

Later that night, long after everyone said goodnight, Eliott was sitting on the couch contemplating his next move. He knew he had to move his family far away, somewhere the debt collectors and the beast would not find them. Perhaps another country. 

As he sat there pondering the possibilities, he heard a thump from somewhere outside the house. Not a moment passed when he heard one of the horses neigh. Worried that it might be the beast, he grabbed an iron fire poker from the hearth and ran outside. 

He turned the corner of the house to the small stable they had, arms raised and ready to strike when he saw his daughter struggling to get the new horse under control.

“Shh, shh. I won’t hurt you,” she whispered. “I’m going to take you back home.”

“You’ll do no such thing, Belle.”

She jumped in fright and turned sheepishly. “I was hoping you would be asleep.”

“What do you think you’re doing?” He took the horse’s reins from her. “Did I not forbid you from going to the beast’s castle?”

“Papa, I won’t allow you to put our family in danger. We have no idea if the beast will come after us if we don’t send someone in your stead. He might take back everything he gave you, leaving us poor once more.”

“You need not worry about that. I have a plan.” 

“Papa, you gave your word to the beast. He spared your life. You taught me that giving your word was a serious thing, that you must always follow through.” 

It was at this moment Eliott hated the fact that she had her mother’s eyes. To have them staring at him so intensely in a moment where she was basically calling his character into question was not something he enjoyed. 

But she was right. He taught his children better than the example he was giving them. 

“Fine. We head out in the morning. I’ll take you myself.”

She smiled wide. “Thank you. I promise to right my wrongs and keep the family safe.”

Her father had just been dismissed from the castle. They’d been greeted with a feast, much like Eliott’s first night there. Unlike his first night, the beast decided to join them. 

To say fear ran like ice through her veins would be an understatement. Just before reaching the castle, she had tried to cheer herself up by thinking of her situation like a big adventure. Upon seeing the creature, she realized she was not ready for such an adventure. 

Throughout the entire meal she’d felt the beast’s eyes on her. She had not the courage to meet his gaze, having spent much of the meal picking at her steak and watching the blood ooze out. 

She’d been led into the sitting room to wait for the beast. While she waited, she reflected on her last day of freedom.

Eliott had made sure they broke fast as a family one last time before she had to leave. After many attempts to talk her out of it, her brothers accepted her decision. Her sisters, on the other hand, did little to hide their glee. That hurt her, since she loved her family unconditionally. She knew of the jealousy and contempt her sisters held towards her, but she had hoped they would at least pretend to miss her. 

The journey itself had been a long one. It took them a few days thanks to the storm they encountered halfway there. Her father took it as an omen for what was to come. She knew it just got rather stormy this time of year. The relief she felt when they reached the castle was great, if only because that meant she would not have to be jostled around so much. The meal was long and awkward and her father left far too soon. 

She remembered the worried look on his face when they departed. Tears were filling his eyes and he’d been sniffling. 

Making sure her last words to him were something positive, she reached for his hand and said, “it will all be fine, Papa.”

Then he’d been sent off with a reward for following through with his word. 

“Tell me your name.”

She startled at the sound of the beast’s voice. She looked around the room, finding its figure casting a shadow in the doorway. 

It was massive, ten feet tall at the very least. Yes, at first glance it looked like a bat, but a mutated one-half man, half bat. It’s ears were large and pointed, eyes dark and small, muzzle large. A voluminous ruffle of dark brown fur adorned it’s neck like a fancy collar, a small trail of fur going down it’s naked torso until it reached his waist and covered his body in fur once more. It had a pair of bat-like wings and she could only imagine how grand the wingspan would be. Settled just under his shoulders lay another pair that led to leathery human looking arms, one of which was holding a rather large goblet. It’s legs were long and had talons at the end of its feet.

“Your name?”

Her voice quivered but she complied, “although my father calls me Belle.”

“How fitting,” it hummed. 

“What do I call you?” She may be frightened, but she was not rude. She could not possibly imagine calling him a beast to his face. Who knew how he would react. 

“You may call me Kas.” He ventured further into the room, gait slow and full of purpose. “You know why you’re here?” Stopping in front of her, he took a sip from his goblet.

Shifting nervously from the intensity of his stare, she cleared her throat. “Yes.”  

“And do you accept your fate?”

“I would do anything to save my father’s life.” Any trace of hesitation faded from her voice and she saw a malicious gleam enter his eyes. 

“It would do you well to remember that.” With that, he trailed a finger down her cheek, lingering on her bottom lip. 

Her eyes widened. She had no clue what he meant by that. 

“I need to set some ground rules before your stay truly begins.” He lets go of her face and begins to pace. “You are free to do as you please, I care not how you spend your time. I sleep during the day, so I ask that you not make too much noise. You may not, under any circumstance, go into the west wing.” His pacing stops and he turns his head to look at her. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Sir,” he hums. “I quite like that.”

A knock sounds on the door frame. “Master, the lady’s room is ready.”

“Very well, then.” He stops her as she rises from her seat. “Just one more question before you go to bed.” His wings shift as he brings himself into her personal space once again. “Will you marry me?”

She blinks once. Twice. Three times. “Pardon?”

“Will you marry me?”

“I cannot, for I hardly know you.”

His eyes darken, and she can tell he’s not pleased. The beast says nothing and takes a long drink from his cup. He does so sloppily, and when some dribbles down his chin she can tell it’s blood. 

A bolt of fear strikes through her and she rushes over to the butler. Her hands shake as she tries to settle herself on the walk to her room. 

Blood. He was drinking blood. It was fitting for a giant bat creature but where did he get it? Was it from people who stumbled upon his castle like her father? Did he get his blood drawn when he stayed here? Was it from his prisoners like her? Although he said she was free to do as she pleased, did that make her a prisoner or a visitor? The thought of possibly just being a visitor for a while helped calm her down a bit. But the thought of being drained of her blood filled her with anxiety once more. 

“Here we are, mademoiselle.” The sound of a key turning a lock took her out of her reverie.

The door swung open to an opulent, dark green room. The candles were already lit, the glint of the gilded decorations reminding her of fireflies. Everything in the castle had a faded and worn look to it, all covered in a thick layer of dust from the lack of use. This room looked recently cleaned, not a cobweb in sight. 

“Is this room for me?” She dared not step foot in it. Dirt and muck from her journey caked her shoes and she did not want to ruin the rug that spanned the room. 

“Yes ma’am.” He gestured to her small trunk of belongings sitting at the foot of the bed. 

“Oh my,” she muttered. Carefully, she took her shoes off and tiptoed into the room. She heard the door start to close and she quickly turned to the butler. “What do I call you?”

“You may call me Munson.” He gently bowed his head.

“Good night, Munson.” 

A small smile graced his face. “Good night, mademoiselle.”

When the door closed, she took a deep breath to center herself. After carefully placing her shoes next to the door and off of the rug, she turned to face the bedroom. 

Being the youngest in the family, she did not remember much of their life before their wealth was lost. She could only remember glimpses of a past her family were so fond of. Flashes of her mother’s face and toys galore, a pretty pink room. For the majority of her life, she lived in the small cottage in the woods. It was cramped and a bit uncomfortable, but it was home. Everything else felt like a dream. 

Especially now, being in a room as fancy as the one she was given. Never before had she seen such extravagance, none that she could remember. It should be a thrill, she should feel giddy. 

Instead, she felt dread. She knew not what would come tomorrow, or the days after. All she knew was that she was a prisoner in an abandoned castle, trapped with a beast. She hadn’t the faintest clue of his intentions, other than the bizarre marriage proposal. 

Why would a beast want to marry a human?

The events of the past week caught up with her. First, her father had gone missing only to come back with news of a beast and the conditions of his release. Then, there was the long trip, on which she barely got any rest. It was all very emotionally and physically draining. 

She dug through her trunk, looking for her nightdress. When she began to strip, her skin began to tingle with the feeling of eyes on her and eventually her own went towards the glass doors that led to the balcony. The curtains had not been closed. She knew no one besides Munson and the beast lived anywhere near, and she wasn’t on the first floor, but she couldn’t help but feel like someone was watching her. 

Naked, she went to close the curtains. Stopping when they were almost completely closed, she peered out into the darkness. 

She watched, as the wind rustled the trees and their leaves fluttered off the branches. What little moonlight shone through the clouds illuminated the gardens below. In the distance she saw a gazebo, most likely the one from her father’s story of the incident. A chunk of movement in the bushes caught her attention and she felt herself leaning closer to the window as if it would give her a better look. 

She just about had her nose pressed against the glass when a wild boar burst out of the bushes, making her jump back. Before she could catch her breath a large dark mass dove from the tree closest to her onto the boar. 

She shrieked in fright and shut the curtains. 

Her hands shook as she pressed one to her chest in an effort to slow her racing heart. The mass was huge and she’d seen nothing near the castle that size other than the beast. Kas. If it dove from the tree nearest to her room then she was right, someone had been watching her. She vowed to keep the curtains drawn every night from now on. 

Deciding she would much rather sleep than deal with her situation or the meaning of Kas’ peeping, she got her nightdress on as quickly as possible. 

Much like her father in his time there, as soon as her head hit the pillow she was out like a light. 

She could not control the volume of her moans nor the rolling of her hips, the pleasure so unfamiliar and great she just had to chase it. A whine escaped her lips when a hand stilled the motion of her hips. 

“You need to stay still, mon trèsor. I cannot properly enjoy my meal if you keep moving.”

Leaning back on her elbows she looked down to the mess of curls lying between her legs. A pair of the roundest, deepest brown eyes stared up at her glittering with mirth. 

“Please,” she begged.

“Please, nothing. You promised you would let me eat to my heart’s content, that you would stay still, that you would be a good girl. Are you going to break your promise?”

“No,” she pouted, “but-”

“Ah, ah, ah,” he tutted. Gently, he trailed the tip of his tongue through her slit and circled her clit, humming at the sight of her eyes rolling into the back of her head. “If you stay still for a while longer, I will let you finish. Deal?”

Her breath stuttered as he resumed. “Deal.”

She fell onto her back the moment he thrust his tongue inside her, curling it deliciously. Her toes curled as he circled her bud with his thumb while his tongue made love to her cunt.

Gentle waves of pleasure caressed her senses, building up in intensity as his thumb sped up. Soon she was adrift in mindless pleasure, moans increasing in volume as she tried to hold back her physical reaction to his ministrations. 

The size of the waves increased, crashing against her and she felt her body stiffening as she felt an indescribable heat and pressure build up at her core. As the intensity grew, she struggled to catch her breath.

The pressure increased and she was about to ask him for something, anything, when he murmured, “let go, my sweet. Come for me.”

She wasn’t quite sure what he meant but she felt herself ride the waves as they crested, creating a feeling of bliss she had never before experienced.

Her mystery man continued to lap at her folds despite her thighs clenching down on his head and he only stopped when she twitched from over stimulation.

He kissed one thigh while his hand caressed the other. “You did so well for me, mon trèsor. Such a good girl.”

A shiver wracked through her body at his praise. “I feel lightheaded. What was that?”

The warmth of his quiet laughter against her skin tickled as he began to kiss his way up to her. “That was an orgasm.” He pauses at her breasts, biting gently at one of her nipples before soothing it with a kiss. 

She gasps in pleasure. “What is that?”

“That, mon trèsor, is the epitome of pleasure.” He nips at her other nipple, this time biting a little harder. He smirks against her skin as she moans. “Oh, you like that, do you?” 

Making sure to nip and suckle all across her chest, he takes his time exploring. He makes sure not to leave any marks, just biting hard enough for her to feel something. Eventually he makes his way up her neck and it isn’t until he reaches the spot just under her ear that she grabs at him and he smirks just before he leaves a love bite. 

One of her legs curls around his waist and she presses herself up against him and he groans as her heat brushes up against him. “Please.”

“Please what?” He runs his hand up the length of the leg curled around him, grabbing a handful of her ass and grinding himself against her. 

“Please, I need-” she moans as his tip bumps against her bud. She whines loudly and writhes against him. 

“Calm down,” he chuckles. 

The hand on her ass makes its way between her thighs, teasing her clit once more. He dips his finger into her core to gather slick and groans when he feels how wet she is. Quickly, he drags slick up to her bud and begins rubbing circles into it. 

When her hips start undulating, he whispers a few words of encouragement in her ear before slipping a finger into her sex. A broken moan escaped her lips at the foreign feeling and she grabbed at his wrist.

“Do you want me to stop?”

Her brow furrowed. “N-no?”

“Do you want me to keep doing this,” he gently began to thrust his finger in and out. 

“Oh,” she sighed. “Yes.”

“I thought so.” He resumed kissing at her neck before deciding her breasts were a better place to be.

She didn’t know what to do with herself. Never before had she experienced sensations like these and a part of her (the part that knew doing this before marriage was wrong) wanted to stop. But that familiar heat began to stir in her loins and she wanted to experience that high again.

Soon enough, the one finger wasn’t enough and she begged him for, “more.”

The man complied, inserting another finger. When she grew accustomed to the feeling, he curled them, sending a delightful quiver throughout her body.

“Again,” she demanded. She felt his smile upon her skin as he obeyed her command.

If she thought the one finger was enough to fully stoke the flames of her desire, she was not ready for a pair of them scissoring inside her. 

Her back arched, hips chasing the pleasure his fingers were providing. She was fast approaching that peak once more and her moans grew desperate. 

“Do you want more?” His voice was low and sultry in her ear.

She hummed in agreement.

“Use your words, mon trèsor.”

“M-mo-ah, ah-more.”

“Very good.” 

He thrust his fingers faster and made sure to put more pressure on her clit. Her legs began to quiver and she felt her eyes roll. The feeling of his thick fingers inside of her was overwhelming but felt so good. She gripped his wrist tighter and chased his motions with her hips. Soon she felt the heat and tingles burst throughout her body. 

“Just like that, ride it out.” He continued to thrust his fingers until she stopped clenching around them. 

She let out small giggles as she tried to catch her breath. 

Finally, the man’s face came into her line of sight. 

He was beautiful, nothing like the men she’d seen in town. Big, brown eyes, an endearingly bulbous nose and a plump bottom lip. Long, curly hair draped over his head, coming down like curtains and putting them in a space all their own. 

“Enjoying yourself, are you?” 

“Very much,” she breathed. She could not help the smile that came across her face. “I’ve never felt anything like that in my life.”

“I’m glad I was the first to give it to you.”

She stares at him in wonder. “I don’t even know your name.”

“You need only ask,” he teases. When she says nothing he flops down next to her, resting his head on his arm as he lays on his side. “Go on.”

“Um.” She draws a thin sheet over her chest. He tries to and fails to hold back a smile at the action, causing a cute little dimple to appear in his left cheek. “What is your name?”

“My name, mon trèsor, is Edward.” He puts out a hand in greeting. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

Timidly, she shakes his hand. “A pleasure indeed.”

They both break out in giggles. 

When she wakes the next morning, it’s to a stickiness between her legs. Thinking she’s started her monthly, she throws the blankets off. But when she gets off the bed, no blood is to be seen. She feels something begin to trickle down her thigh so she hurriedly places her hand down there to check what it is. Surprise colors her face when she sees a clear viscous liquid coating her fingertips. 

Surely she had not wet herself, she’d not done that since she was a babe. When she checks the bed for wet spots, she is baffled to find none. How odd. 

Distracted, she goes about her morning, making her bed, opening the curtains, getting dressed. When she opens her door, she is surprised to see Kas waiting for her in the surprisingly dark hallway. 

“G-good morning, bea-Kas. Can I help you with something?”

He says nothing, instead slowly trailing his dark eyes over her figure, lingering between her legs.

Immediately, something in her core tells her something is wrong. There’s a tingle at the base of her neck, goosebumps rolling down her arms. 

Slowly, so as not to alert him, she begins to close the door in an effort to have something between them. He continues to say nothing, instead watching as she closes the door enough to hide the interior of her room. Both of her shoulders are out of sight, the majority of her body in the room, head leaning out.

“I actually do need your help with something.” His voice is low and he speaks slowly. It freaks her out. 

“O-oh?” She tries not to make it obvious that her hand is scrambling to find something to grab. A weapon of some sort. “With what?”

Kas takes a step closer. “I have a hunger that I cannot satisfy.”

She managed to grab hold of a candelabra on the table that was situated next to her door. “Oh? I’m sure I can cook something up for you if Munson is not able to at the moment.”

“I’m afraid Munson will not be able to help me. It is a very particular kind of hunger. One could call it a thirst.” He takes another step closer, inhaling deeply, eyes rolling as a distinct scent hits his nose. “But I can tell you have exactly what I need,” he rumbled.

Alarm bells rang throughout her head when he took another step and she brandished her candelabra. “Don’t come any closer.”

He huffed. “Silly girl. Do you really think that will stop me?”

She threw it at him as he closed the distance just to see it bounce off of him. While one hand covered her mouth, the other held her by the waist and lifted her up. One of his wings shut the door behind him and he walked her to the bed.

She struggled and tried to scream, but she could hardly breathe with his big hand blocking her nostrils. She kicked and punched as hard as she could but her strength was no match for him. 

He laid her on the bed, wings surrounding them both, cutting her off from anything other than Kas. It was dark and hot and he still hadn’t removed his hand from her mouth. She felt herself get lightheaded and the amount of fight in her diminished.

Kas caught on and quickly shifted his hand, allowing her nostrils clarity. The other hand let go of her waist and was rucking up her dress. He ignored her muffled shrieks and struggles, instead choosing to focus on getting to the apex between her thighs as quickly as possible. 

When he reached it he groaned, for she was still wet. “I knew it.”

She sobbed when his finger put pressure on her clit. Thanks to her dream she knew where this was headed and her attempts to fight him off grew stronger. He merely laughed while his finger rapidly drew circles on her clit.

She jerked in his hold. As much as she did not want to, her body began to respond to his actions. Compared to her dream Edward, Kas’ movements were much too rough and hurried. She could feel herself getting wetter by the second and the sounds she let out were starting to turn into moans.

His breathing was heavy in her ears and she could feel her own begin to match it. Against her will, her hips started to move with his finger, chasing the pleasure he was provoking. 

“Look at you. Acting so disgusted, but you like this. You enjoy my touch.” With that, he flicked her clit and laughed when she squealed in pain. 

She was surprised at the spark of pleasure she felt from the pain and it caused the familiar heat from her dreams to bloom. She tried to squeeze her thighs hard enough to cause his hand to slip out from between them, but in doing so it just made the pleasure hit differently.

When she felt herself being to clench around nothing she panicked, for she knew what that meant. Trying to fend off the increasing pleasure, she found herself holding her breath in concentration. But in doing so she felt the pleasure swell and it continued to build and build until she thought she was about to climax.

Kas withdrew his finger and laughter sounded in her ears as she came back down. “Oh, my pet, you truly are a sight to see. The loveliest creature I’ve set my eyes on in decades.”

With no warning, he shoved his finger inside of her, rumbling in pleasure at her scream of pain. He gives her no reprieve, no chance to adjust to the size of his finger (so much larger than what Edward had felt like in her dream) and begins to rapidly thrust it. 

Stretched beyond belief, she thinks she may just die from the pain when sparks of pleasure begin to flicker once more. Slick makes his passage easier and she cries at the sound of his cruel laughter. 

“Look at your cunt, so hungry for my finger she can’t help but pull it back in.”

And it was true. No matter how hard she tried to fight it, her body seemed to thrive under his rough ministrations. Her hips began to chase his movements once more and instead of clawing at the hand covering her mouth, she held on for her life. With every other thrust, his finger came in contact with a distinct spot inside of her, giving her a jolt of pleasure each time.

The pleasure mounting this time around was much more intense than her dream climax and she sobbed at the uncontrollable feeling. Just as she felt herself reach that peak again, Kas withdrew his finger once more. 

She cried out in frustration and disgust. Why did he keep stopping? And why did she want him to continue his assault?

Quickly, Kas moves down her body, wings following him. She squints at the abrupt change in lighting and has barely adjusted to it when she feels something wet touch her folds.

She begins to lift her head to look between her legs, “why are you doing this?”

“You said you would do anything to save your father’s life.”

Suddenly Kas’ tongue thrusts into her, curling as it did, coming into contact with that particular spot he had just started to explore with his finger. She felt full in a different way, in an honestly much preferable way. His finger had been rigid, his tongue (thankfully) much more pliable. 

She couldn’t help but to compare it to how it felt when Edward explored her with his tongue. Kas was reaching places Edward had no ability to. Whereas Edward took his time and was gentle, Kas would thrust viciously and without mercy.

He would alternate between jabbing his tongue in her and slurping up the excess slick from her folds. His snout would brush against her clit while his hands held her legs open. Without his hands covering her mouth, her noises filled the room, a mixture of crying and moans. He relished in the inconsistency of her begging.

“‘Yes, yes. No, stop it.’ You just don’t know what you want, do you?” He grinned salaciously. “It’s alright. You don’t have to know. I know what you want and I am all you need.”

With that, he doubled his efforts to draw her climax out of her. Soon her cries for him to stop diminished entirely and all that was heard in the room were her begs for more. 

And more he gave her. The heat in her core surged, continuing to rise and rise until it engulfed her entire being and she fell apart on his tongue. He didn’t stop until he had his fill, causing her to climax two more times. 

By the time he finished she had passed out, energy spent and body weakened.

Kas gently rearranged her on the bed, righting her dress. 

“You are exactly what I need.” He trailed a finger down her cheek. “Mon trèsor.”

When she wakes hours later, the shadows in her room tell her it’s about noon. In a daze, she rights her bed and goes looking for the candelabra in the hallway only to find it sitting on its table, making her wonder if the events of the morning were a terrible dream. The soreness between her legs tells her otherwise.

After some time, she looks for the kitchen hoping for some lunch. She’s lost for only a moment before the candles lead her to the kitchen doors, the sound of tinkling cutlery bleeding into the hallway. When she entered, she could have sworn she saw a broom sweeping in the corner, but when she turned, it was against the wall. 

She makes a small plate of the leftovers from breakfast. In the end she struggles to finish her meal, too distracted from the morning’s events.

Eventually, she heads out to the gazebo, book in hand, and notices the very roses that doomed her. She barely clears the debris off the bench before sitting down. In the distance, she can hear the sounds of different animals and the buzz of insects.

For hours, she reads the same few pages, not absorbing a single word. 

“It is time for dinner.”

Munson’s voice makes her jump and she hurries out of the gazebo, avoiding his eyes.

Kas is waiting for her in the dining room. When she goes for a random seat she hears him grunt. When she meets his gaze, he gestures to the seat next to him. She hesitates for a moment before sitting next to him. 

Dinner plays out almost exactly as it had the night before. She is much too distracted to enjoy her meal and Kas is busy watching her. 

They both reach for their respective goblets at the same time when she notices the scratches she left on his arms and the size of his hands. 

While she knew his hands were big (she could tell when they were all over her) she hadn’t realized just how big they were. She took a sip of her drink as her mind drifted uncontrollably. If Edwards fingers were thick and long but his member even longer and thicker, then how big would Kas’ be? 

At that thought she choked on her wine, sending her into a coughing fit. Kas reached out a hand to pat her back but she jerked out of his reach. 

“No! No,” she calms down. “I’m fine.” 

His dark eyes narrow in suspicion but he says nothing. 

When dinner is over, she attempts to rush out of the room but Kas’ voice stops her. 

“Before you go, I have something to ask you.”

She nods in acknowledgement.

“Will you marry me?”

Her nose scrunches in confusion. Had she not answered this question the night before? Did he really think she would say yes after what happened that very morning?

“No.”

His reaction was much like the night before and he dismissed her without saying a word. 

When she got to her room, she made sure to close her curtains before getting ready for bed. It was rather unrealistic, but she hoped to experience the same dream again. She would much rather be in a wonderful fantasy with a handsome dream man than in the newfound nightmare her reality had become.

Unfortunately for her, she did not fall asleep as easily as the night before, but once sleep grabbed hold of her she went with it willingly.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

She sat up in her bed and looked around. The room looked mostly the same except the colors were much brighter. The walls were a pastel green instead of the dark, almost black green. Everything was still gilded and she could see little paintings of flowers scattered all around. The room had an overall brighter tone and lighter feel to it. 

Sat on the little couch near the balcony was Edward. He was dressed in a white shirt and unbuttoned trousers. There was a smirk on his face as he sat with his legs crossed, an arm spread out on the back of the couch. 

Noticing she was naked, she pulled the sheet up to her chest. “Edward?”

“The one and only.”

Dragging a hand down her face, she muttered to herself, “what kind of dream is this?”

“The best kind of dream.” He stood up from the couch and made his way to her. “The kind where your worries come to fade away,” he sat next to her on the bed, “and where only light is allowed.” He grabbed her unoccupied hand. “As long as I am around you will never not feel safe here. That I can promise you.” Staring into her eyes, he tenderly kissed the palm of her hand.

She swooned. Who was this man? How in the world had she conjured him? He was incredibly handsome, had introduced her to a new kind of pleasure, and now he was promising to keep her safe.

“Who are you,” she sighed. 

He grinned. “We’ve gone over this, mon trèsor. I,” he placed a hand on his chest, “am Edward. Although my close friends call me Eddie.” He nods at her. “You can call me Eddie.”

“I would hardly say we’re friends, I barely know you.”

Smirk on his face, he bumped shoulders with her, “I would say most friends don’t know each other as intimately as we do.”

Her jaw dropped in surprise at his statement. It was a crass way to do it, but when he put it that way, she couldn’t help but agree. Perhaps they were friends. 

He put a finger under her chin, shutting her mouth as quickly as it opened. “Close that up, before you give me any ideas.” Then he jumped off the bed. “Come,” he clapped. “Get dressed, I have much to show you.”

She did as he asked, wondering how a dream could feel so lifelike. It was almost enough to distract her from what had occurred that very morning. She decided to take it in stride, accept it for what it was. Given her circumstances, she would need all the friends she could get, no matter how unorthodox their introduction. 

It was a shame the only way she could make a friend and feel safe was in her dreams.

A/N: There it is! The first of most likely two parts. There are much darker things in store for our sweet Belle. I have a lot planned for this story, so hopefully you stick along for the ride. I hope you enjoyed it, please let me know if you did 💕 If you want to see my fics and just the fics, go check out @valthevalkyrielibrary

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #dark fic #dark fantasy

[sunoooism]

📜ADMIT IT!— six.

❝just out here living vicariously through my novel!❞

mlist

I rushed this a bit sorry 💀💀, this update was delayed bcs I've been really busy with school and stuff. hopefully I'll be back to updating once or twice a week now!!

Day 2 of Yokohama

your second day in Yokohama was spent relaxing in the hotel, watching whatever shitty film or TV show was available. the best thing you could find at the moment was 'Kubo and the Two Strings' which you remembered Kuina recommending to you years ago. she kept pestering you about it until you got fed up and lied about watching it, saying 'oh, yeah! I loved it!' if there was any time to actually watch it, it would be now you supposed.

as Chishiya showered and carried on with his night routine you were sprawled out across your bed in an oversized sleep shirt and shorts you borrowed stole from Ann. the movie had been good so far but it made you wonder why all children in kids films always have such sad backstories.

by the time Shuntaro had emerged from the bathroom you had fallen asleep atop his pillow that you had also borrowed stolen. usually this would irritate the life out of him even if it was Kuina, but staring down at you and the little bit of drool smeared across your lip, he couldn't really find it in himself to be annoyed with you.

Day 3 of Yokohama

Chishiya had suggested a walk through the streets of Yokohama, and since you couldn't think of anything else to do instead you agreed. unfortunately you ended up on a busy pavement with people bumping into you two left and right. and even more unfortunate for you there were countless couples everywhere you looked. this left you only slightly upset and dejected by your love life, or more specially the lack-thereof.

Day 4 of Yokohama

Day 5 of Yokohama

your day was spent with another outing into town accompanied by Chishiya, and along the way desperate texts to your multiple friends asking for advice on what to do about your Chishiya Shuntaro issue.

you had just finished harassing Kyuma for advice when the man on your right pulled you into a movie theater. apparently his favourite film was playing. who knew he was into thrillers?

well to be completely honest you didn't know if it was a thriller, as cliché as it sounds you were too busy admiring Chishiya to pay attention and or care. to say you thought of him as ugly would be a lie, and while you had never thought too hard on the subject you were now questioning whether or not he had always been this enticing.

you had no doubt he knew you were staring, if he didn't you would be astonished to no end, but what confused you was the fact that he wasn't calling you out for it. usually if something like this happened he would mercilessly taunt and tease whoever he caught. but he seemed to be content, pleased, even with this outcome. you could see the small smirk itching to pass over his features.

your big question was, why?

Day 6 of Yokohama

day six in the city was spent exploring small, aesthetically pleasing shops. so far you had gotten a couple books, a new sage green scarf and snacks for you and Chishiya to share while you were out.

your final destination was Yokohama park. you had once told your friend group you adored a view of flowers and trees to pass the day. that was years ago though, apparently Chishiya had remembered. so you both sat on a wall watching people pass by and cracking jokes, by your opinions it might have been the best day there.

Last day of Yokohama

although Chishiya had been strangely tolerable this past week, in no way were you complaining. but you knew he would probably revert back to normal when you were around your other friends again and for some reason that didn't bother you. you had gotten used to his snarky remarks after a while and it felt strange now that he was softer.

for your last day in Yokohama you had agreed to go to a restaurant for dinner, it wasn't too fancy but at the same time wasn't completely horrible either. It had good reviews so you both thought, why not right?

you were both sat in a booth tucked in at the very back of the room. the tables surrounding you mainly consisted of young couples having a romantic night out, a lady squealed as her partner brought out a bouquet and leapt up to smother him in affection. was the world just out to make fun of your non existent love life this week?

"I've enjoyed our time together, Y/n. I hope we can plan things like this more often, it's quieter without Arisu complaining all the time" his statement caught you off guard, and with your new found feelings for the man it made your stomach flutter a bit at the thought of spending more time with him. "I liked this week too. thank you for sacrificing your back account to make me happy this week, I really appreciate it.

next time it's my turn"

Next - Previous

©sunoooism

tags: @captivq @happyjuhyun @yvrikoo @mxbrahms @huachengsbestie01 @rainqissedd @brdpch @ehddsnys @kokxm1 @naegisimp @luvvsnae @bowscale @hy0ukka @trinmadol @saiewithakatana @bre99 @kazuhacumslut @fiqire @mazeinthemoon

#sunoooism #(📜admit it! —) #shuntaro chishiya #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya x reader #shuntaro chishiya x reader #chishiya shuntaro x reader #arisu ryohei #ryohei arisu #kuina hikari #usagi yuzuha #ann rizuna #tatta kodai #chota segawa #kyum ginji #aib #aib x reader #aib fanfic #alice in borderland x reader #alice in borderland #x reader #x you

[beingdreeyore]

Oh my gosh! I’m so excited bc I’m in Aust too! Would you say the training programs for psychiatry are difficult to get into, or if they want particular experiences (I.e research, leadership)? How are the training programs themselves? What would you say would be a day to day schedule? (ahaha sorry for all the q, I just haven’t met that many people who are interested/doing psych in my medschool)

The training programs are getting much more competitive now as they're oversubscribed in some states. So it is moving more towards the surgical path of needing to do SRMO years in psychiatry or unaccredited registrar years to get onto the program. I don't know anyone that did research and benefited from it though. They value time in the game over the fluff stuff that doesn't have a lot of clinical application.

Honestly? The training program is horrific. No one tells you that the five year program will take 7 years for most people because you can't actually get your compulsory terms. The assessments are also relentless. We do them constantly through each and every term as well as the five keys assessments (that each require several months of study), so it's pretty rare to meet an accredited reg who hasn't taken a break to locum because they can't handle the workload. Psychiatry beats a lot of specialties in terms of the number of different assessments required. I don't know a single psychiatry registrar who isn't burnt out. You do a minimum of six assessments per term, as well as the five key major assessments that each require several months of study. The pass rate for one of those is only 30% so chances are you're going to be dropping over $1K for that assessment more than once... And in my health district the college can send us to one of 7 different hospitals every six months and we just have to be okay with that. No say in the process and no concern for how that might impact the rest of our lives.

It pitches itself as the work/life balance friendly specialty, but it's not. You will get paid less than all your colleagues (except maybe GPs?) and you will work just as many hours. Psychiatry registrars aren't actually recognised as registrars on the pay scale until they hit their fourth year.

Just be very aware of what you're signing on for before you do it. Use your intern year to get a feel for everything and know what psychiatry actually is. During your compulsory ED term as an intern see psych patients on every shift, because that is what you're actually signing up for. If you come in blind to what it is, chances are you will leave.

Probably not what you want to hear, but everyone I know is so burnt out from trying to get through this. If I could go back I'd just do orthopaedics or GP. I'd never put myself through this if I'd known then what I know now.

[imeternallylove]

Don't grow up, it's a trap - Brian May; pt.1

Pairing: Brian May x Reader

Warning: none

Word: 2.7k

main mastetlist  | request & ask | prompts

Chapters index

prologue | part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight | part night | part ten | epilogue

The nightmares gradually disappeared for Brian and Betty. Miss Y/L/N wasn't giving them enough money that he could afford to waste it. The boy strives to be as thrifty as feasible; sometimes his sister describes it as worse than stingy since he attempts not to spend any money at all.

Brian is still quite considerate, and he is frightened of being perceived as an avaricious kid who is greedy for the money of his benefactor. He reprimanded Betty, his naughty sister, several times; however, her staying by his side inspires him to persevere in difficult times. And now she begged for a pricey new Ken doll to be part of her Barbie collection because the one she had was outdated, which is totally nonsense for him.

Their father and mother now live someplace in the UK, making use of work in return for money for rent in a small room that was previously used as a hiding spot for escaping creditors. The kids only had to hope for their call back to be certain whether their parents had stayed healthy.

What was it like to face terrible times? Brian, of course, has vivid memories of what happened. If he were a money gabber, seeing a cheque and useful supplies in Miss Y/L/N's shopping bags on a monthly basis for two years wouldn't be shocking to him. It was because he was too empathic, and he and his sister couldn't refute the fact that they were too young and undoubtedly helpless at times.

And then Miss Y/L/N surprised him once again. One day, after he returned home, he spotted a present package wrapped in ordinary cream-coloured paper and fastened with a white ribbon.

An eighteen-year-old lad stood in front of his house, unwrapping what was inside. His younger sister appeared on either side, holding stuff for him, until they both widened their eyes in shock. It was immediately apparent that within were collections of books from Brian's favourite experts in astronomy and then he noticed the man doll, which had the name 'Ken' printed on the vibrant pinkish packaging box set laid aside.

Well, if he wasn't mistaken, it was a Barbie doll man, as his sister had been chanting for lately. Betty shrieked and yelled throughout the house as he moved his attention to her, while the cheeky sister snatched the pink box from his grip and began to play with it. The older May only grinned sheepishly since he was still stunned by Miss Y/L/N benevolence, and he began reasoning that it was more than enough.

The young man took the white card and flipped it to see what was written. Its mild fragrance made him feel pleasing right away. Brian had no idea that letters might make someone feel better. Even though he had never met the owner of the black ink, who penned a brief note expressing.

'Happy birthday, and I hope you both love your presents.'

Yes, definitely. Miss Y/L/N is overly nice to them.

Two or three years later, the rotary phone marked the formal start of conversation between him, his sister, and their benefactor. It appeared awkward starting out; every word that he spoke was reviewed before deciding whether it was appropriate for him to talk to her. He avoided allowing her to be disappointed if Brian acted unpleasant one day.

Talking becomes less stressful after a while has passed. Brian never imagined his benefactor would be paying attention to all the weird things that went on in his day at college, or at the library, or at the lab, or- at his house. Before going to bed, he promised to repeat the story again the following day, and the next day, and every single day after that.

From the time he used to only work as a part-time teacher, Brian has gone back with his old lady, Red Special, to showing on the tiny gig on music that he loved again. The boy with black, thick curly hair felt like he was back in kindergarten, trying to get the attention of his parents when she mentioned it would be superb to see him perform music with his handmade guitar on stage with his pals.

Brian craves to know what Miss Y/L/N looks like, but he lacks the nerve to approach her more closely enough to ask. The boy feared that she would reject him and feel disgusted about his silly fantasies. Will it be terribly naive? Will she think that he's nosy? His pals chastised him for being absurd about the worries he had. At the end of the day, Brian doesn't even ask her out; all he wants is to get to know her. Is not it?

On this particular school fair day, nineteen-year-old Brian May and his friends prepared an astronomy and scientific project booth, complete with a neat suit and long, courteous tie. To accommodate everyone who attended the event—mostly professors—the room was set up into four sizable groups and arranged in various locations.

Brian believes that today is another enjoyable day, whether it is spent with parents or students from different colleges.

"This is a joke; it's bloody hot." With an understanding look, the tallest boy gave his groupmate, who was whining about the humidity, a pat on the shoulder. Without taking a break from his security duty, Dave had been at the booth since the morning, leading each visitor through the project they had been working on and researching for weeks.

Even though the astronomy and scientific booth wasn't as well-liked as the others, they still had great fun listening to their extensive lectures about their subject matter. The boys were thrilled, even if it felt like they were speaking to no one or that only a handful of people were listening.

On the table was a printed rating sheet that booth attendees could fill out and comment on. When Brian noticed that someone else was now observing on the research board, he grabbed one.

"Hello, Miss. Please take this." Making a turn, a woman of adulthood grinned, grabbed her evaluation form, and held it. She bows to him first, then Brian bows slightly in manners while her grin continues to highlight her exquisite features. After reading the evaluation report for a few minutes and scanning his eyes, the boy lifted his head to look at the board once more.

“May I ask who drew this?”

Brian smiled broadly and replied, "It's me; I draw it all." Nobody has mentioned the naiveté he slathered onto his drawing since the morning. The first is this woman.

When she grins, all the boy can see are her eyes, which narrow to a single, curved line, and her voice, which sounds familiar. "You know, it's kinda cool. It looks fascinating when used as a drawing."

Brian listens as she speaks to him; her voice is soothing, like a lullaby. Her petite hand, making an attempt to give him an explanation in her own words. He captures sight of the expensive watch clung to hers and extracts a pen that had become lodged in her skirt's pocket.

Her eyes snapped up, peering directly into the boy's, and for a moment, Brian felt like a deer caught in the headlights as he watched her begin to write on the top of the paper he had given her moments before. Her lips parted, causing his mind to explode. "Your arts are easy to understand. I like it a lot."

In a move to lessen the shame he feels, Brian scratches the back of his neck. "Thank you. But I think it still looks absurd." He pointed at the magnum opus, which he had spent countless hours curled up on his back and drawing, and wiped the tip of his nose apologetically. His pals, though, agreed it was ridiculous. despite the fact that the periodic table should have the graph placed on it.

"Absurd?" When she recounted what he had said, Brian was taken aback. She gave him an icy smile after recognising that what he had said was far more foolish than what he had actually done.

He took a deep breath, gazing attentively, and the evaluation was positive when she marked the page. He felt relieved by it. Brian said, gawkily smiling, "I sometimes say stupid things like this." Gazing at her face, he realised that she was likely ten centimetres higher than him, partly because of the height of her stiletto heels.

Oh. She is so small. In that white lace collared black minidress, it made her seem so smaller.

"What makes you feel so negative on yourself? Now tell me what you are good at..." The older woman questioned as she lowered her gaze to his shirt level and read the name tag on the shirt, "Mister May?" Just before getting back to eye contact with his.

The way she looks truly appealing, the way the way how envious he is of her gorgeous straight ginger hair with a bang is so gorgeous and he only had ugly black curly hair, and the way her scents remind him of a fairytale—Brian can tell plainly from being this close.

With bafflement, the boy swiped and gestured to the board and himself. "Me? orㅡ or the project?" The small woman started chuckling at his foolish expression before realising that, and she responded in jest. "I'm talking with you. And, yes. I mean you."

Brian answers her dramatically, trying to clear his throat and gather himself back together. "I'm good at playing guitar, I think. I formed a band and wrote a few songs but still in the process."

"What else?" She flashed him a nod while folding her arm across her chest, and her captivating eyes encouraged him to keep going.

"I can cook."

With a broad smirk and a faint whisper, she asks. "Oh, what's more?"

"I'm single."

The thing he had been saying had stunned him. As soon as Brian noticed he'd done something dumb again, he glared at the woman, who appeared to be equally startled as Brian.

"Is that what you called 'good'?"

"Oh, I have no idea, maybe it will work out well." Sheerly, he scratched the back of his neck. Unbelievably, he knows this woman across from him is going to think Brian May is an idiot for sure.

But all she does is glance upward at the board once again, still grinning. "You're the opposite of what teenagers want—girlfriends."

"I find it difficult to like people. I think that living this way is better than dating someone." How come from science projects become a love story? When did it change? Isn't it time for him to explain what's on the board?

"There're a lot of things waiting for you to find out. Don't miss out because you're satisfied with what you already have." Brian watched the older woman bend down and put a check mark on the score sheet again.

"Like… dating someone?"

"Dating is just another chapter in life; if you really don't want it, there are plenty of other things to do."

"Then I will try to date someone from today on."

She started giggling at Brian, then her eyes sparkled, flashing all around, and since he always overslept in order to keep an eye on the skies at night with the dynascope, Brian reasoned that her eyes may be brighter than the moon.

The boy noticed something had been concealed there, inside her lovely eyes. And he didn't have any idea how to guess it at all. "Uh, I mean-  'starting to think about it.' I didn't think much beyond that."

"Don't waste much time; you can't go back to youth once you grow up."

Brian stood silent while having the conversation. It was almost like the remark from just seconds before was replaying itself in the back of his mind. He's thinking, in line with her statements, which could be accurate, that he hasn't done many of the things that teens ought to do.

He straight away recognised that Tim asked him to join to record additional songs, which he wants to, but unfortunate that he has a lot on his plate, and the band may already be recording without him.

“Hey! Bri! Come here, mate!”

As the boy shifted his gaze towards the source of the sound, he saw that four pals were now standing, discussing.

"I'll handle this. I don't know what the hell is wrong with Richard's group, they need you to help them." Dave scowled and gave a disgusted shake of his head.

Brian glanced at the woman, who continued concentrating on the board. It seems likely that the scoring evaluation will soon be finished. He may most likely return in time if he only takes a little diversion to see his friends before returning to her. She grinned and gave a nod as the boy lowered his head briefly.

The boy turned around roughly a few seconds after he had started discussing booth setup with another group of pals. When he spotted that the woman he was leisurely talking with had left, his two legs remained still, unhappy.

"Is she gone?"

"Oh, just now." Dave handed the score sheet to Brian, whom he acknowledged before seeing the results.

The boy had a sudden numbness across the entirety of his body after he noticed that this evaluation's owner's name appeared.

Y/N Y/L/N

34 years old

"You know, it's kinda cool. It looks fascinating when used as a drawing."

"Hey, Bri?"

"What makes you feel so negative on yourself? Now tell me what you are good at."

"What's going on, mate?"

"There're a lot of things waiting for you to find out. Don't miss out because you're satisfied with what you already have."

"Brian?"

"Don't waste much time; you can't go back to youth once you grow up."

'Oui! Brian!"

Dave yelled after his closest friend, who bolted outside of the room without saying anything. Brian is rushing among the huge crowd of visitors to the fair.

His heart pounded in his chest; it was beating stronger than ever. The boy repeatedly brought it back, not expecting it, but each time he did so, it reinforced Brian May's desire to meet his benefactor at least once.

He remembered telling her that he was attending a college event today and that he had set up a science booth a few weeks ago. At the time, Brian was jokingly inviting her to come visit him and his sister here.

If that woman was Miss Y/L/N, the conversation that just happened… reveals that she already knows who he is.

A tall, slender boy made his way through the crowd again. Where is the woman with ginger curls and a black velvet minidress right now? Brian's close attention was drawn to the person he had been dying to see for years.

Brian began running again, with the throb of his heart. He glimpsed the back of the woman, who matched Miss Y/L/N, moving gracefully past the mass of people. The boy's gaze was fixed on her, a woman he wasn't certain was who she seemed to be.

"Miss Y/L/N??"

The boy grabbed her arm and twisted her around towards him; only it made him displeased to see that the woman frowning at him was not the woman standing in front of the scientific booth, conversing with him.

Brian bends his head in apology. He lingered in that posture without looking up, and he ended up missing out on the opportunity to meet her.

His muscular hands raised his hair, eliciting a weary grumble. How often has he told himself not to expect it?

"Excuse me," and before Brian could turn around, he felt a finger poke into the middle of his back.

"I believed that you were just shouting out my name."

Brian finds himself wondering stupidly how quickly his heart is pumping by standing towards the woman he'd been talking with next to the board earlier, with a beaming grin on her face. The boy shifted his gaze away from her to see Betty standing next to her, chuckling at the silly face he had made.

"It's wonderful to meet you, Mister May."

oh hai, im new for this hehe

#brian may #brian may x reader #brian may imagine #brian may headcanon #freddie mercury #john deacon #roger taylor #bohemian rhapsody #bohemianbri

[stigmvtas]

MARIBEL SAWYER — ABRIDGED.

welcome to marina, MARIBEL SAWYER ( demi woman, she/they ) ! they are a TWENTY SIX year old who has lived on the island for TEN YEARS. word on the street is they’re currently living in TOWER HILL and works as an INVESTIGATIVE JOURNALIST / UNLICENSED PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR. everyone also says they look a lot like ELLA PURNELL. what do you think? — JAMES, 24, THEY/THEM, EST.

MENTIONS OF EATING DISORDERS AND DISAPPEARANCE.

profile.

full name: maribel ottoline sawyer.

birthday: june 1st, 1997.

astrology: gemini sun, aries moon, gemini ascending.

sexuality: bisexual.

currently listening to: the last time i did acid i went insane by jeffrey lewis.

last known location: [[[cannot be found]]]

PINTEREST.

brief history.

another middle child! what a surprise <3 smack dab in the middle of two other siblings and born to an air force father and what can only be described as an almond mom who's got an entire line of diet cookbooks and a keto-lifestyle cooking vlog on youtube.

very typical all-american, strict family life. curfew at 9pm, family dinner every sunday, chores before anything else. no sick days, no excuses, no bad grades.

painfully average in a family full of success; older sister an early broadway star, younger brother not only poet but football prodigy - maribel nothing, nothing but average. nothing but too curious.

develops a knack for mysteries and a compulsive need to solve them at a young age - something to pass time, and something that makes her feel like she's got a purpose, somewhere. a miniature nancy drew, the only reputation she holds.

they move around the states often, never in one place for too long; maribel always the too quiet girl in the back of the classroom while her siblings garnered attention.

eating disorder; maribel's mother obsession with clean eating, and being an ingredient-only household, as well as projecting her self - image onto all of her children resulted in a years long eating disorder that's mari still combats to this day - but she's doing a little better.

the family moves to nevada during mari's early high school years, her sister's in new york and her brother's still in middle school - so it's just mari at a strange new school in the middle of the desert. makes one of her only friends there, one who thinks her obsession with conspiracies isn't weird. who believes in aliens like her, who understands her.

disappearance; tldr, mari and her best friend break into area 51 to see the aliens and they get caught. obviously. lucky they weren't shot on sight. maribel gets her father almost fired, and her friend disappears. she never sees them again.

after that, the family moves to marina. mari's sixteen, and she retires the magnifying glass and her itching curiosity for the next few years. she's mostly afraid - of both her family, and of the consequences of her actions.

by the time she's eighteen, her family all but kicks her out of the house - one of those rules. she's an adult now - so act like one. then they move away - and mari's alone. she enrolls in university, and works three different jobs just to afford her tuition - but she gets through it. she has to, even if she's weak. even if she's afraid.

recently started doing her. investigation stuff again with a license that's definitely forged due to one of her other, few talents: forgery. but hey! if it gets the job done<3

facts & temperaments.

has worked so many jobs and still has a new one every other week. receptionist, waitress, phone sex operator despite being so virginal it's not even funny. has probably worked at several different restaurants after dropping entire trays of plates and getting fired because it's the fifth time it's happened in a two hour shift.

because even doing her minor investigative work that revolves around suspicious housewives and trailing dodgy teenagers will not pay her student loans or rent.

used to sell fake ids in high school because once again, she's a bit of a forgery mastermind; but stopped after she graduated. never got caught, though! also a little bit of a hacker, would change grades in the school's system for the "popular" girls in her grade to earn their approval. never really worked in her favor, but hey - they passed their classes!

would've done computer science but even though she's moved out of her family's home and they've moved away - her mom still berated her for going into a "man's" field. so maribel took up journalism as a bit of a fuck you. worked out great, obviously.

lies about her childhood often because she was a bit of a. friendless nerd and also embarrassed her dad and like, disgraced her family. and she would hate for people to know that! a bit of a compulsive liar because of it.

has an advice column in the newspaper under a fake alias as well, because maribel is Leading a Life. one where she just creates mess after mess.

is the most awkward person to walk the planet. constantly stumbling over her words or backtracking, rambling on; just has a general nervous demeanor. has constant trembles. like if you touch her, she's just. vibrating with nerves. extremely shy, and takes a while to warm up to strangers.

desperately wants to be liked. like socially. like on a fundamental level. tries to fit her personality to whoever she's talking to. she's really nice! and tries not to be like genuinely fake, just doesn't know how to be herself, or what herself is actually like.

a yes girl. rarely says no to anyone, even if it's a ridiculous request. a pushover, a doormat, someone easily walked over. surprisingly hard to fully manipulate, because maribel has the intuition of an investigator. will entertain it for a short while before realizing she's being played like a fiddle.

so fucking clumsy that it's a marvel that she's like. a genuinely decent investigator. can somehow manage to pull herself together for cases, but when she's off the clock? an entire mess. observant, even when she doesn't want to be. she can't turn that part of her off.

hair's always tied up in a ponytail. no exceptions. it's who she is. it's her personality. only takes it out when she's drunk. which isn't often but it happens sometimes! switches personalities like day and night when she is tipsy; becomes a complete flirt, an almost unrecognizable version of herself with confidence she'd never have otherwise.

#marina:intro #––– ❛ maribel sawyer 【 pretend i'm happy just to be alive / about. 】 #eating disorder tw #disappearance tw

[audio-luddite]

I did a browse of Tumblr "Audiophile".

OK weird.

Much of the stuff is photos of old stuff from brochures and magazines (like paper OMG). I guess some people kept all that stuff. Grandpa was a hoarder of audio mags? I see lovely ads for crap product. It was crap 60 years ago and still is today (like the BOSE 901). There are some bits showing good stuff but not much. And there are the confused people who don't understand obsession with vacuum tubes and LP records.

There are links to very artistic audio themed soft-core porn. Some are adds for console stereos draped with girls in lingerie. A good stereo will bring the girls in for sure. At least that was thought in the 60s? And there are people posing as golden ears. Some experts might be expert, but you gotta pay the bills no matter the crap information they put out. Number ten in this guy's top ten turntable list is pure crap now and forever.

I have even seen totally phony photo-shopped systems that I know could never exist. You know a turntable has to be at least a bit more than 12" across to fit an LP which is 12 inches in diameter. So that picture just don't scale right.

I guess in summary it is not much fun to look at that tag as there is so much dross.

If you are an audiophile then you probably know good from bad or want to. If you are just interested or new to this then there is a problem. There is a hell of a lot of misinformation conspiracy and noise.

First problem is the term audiophile. It means literally you love sound. The presumption is you appreciate the quality of sound. That is different than liking music in general, or some specific type of music. That would be a musicophile. All it takes is adding -phile to the end of a word.

So if you like music as opposed to just the sound of steam locomotives passing by and care for good clean sound then you are bumping up against this other -phile thing. Do not be intimidated. I assure you that listening to a favorite artist with all the sounds fully resolved and blasting away in your home is a good thing.

It is strange to me that people will spend a small fortune on a sound system for their car and far less in their home. Though I suppose if you live in an apartment loud music will make no friends, but being a big bass thumper in traffic is OK and even expected. Hey if you love that sound well sorry to tell you... yup audiophile.

Now to cost. There can be a lot of money spent. Some people will spend six figures restoring a car from when they were young. It is a hobby where it is possible to spend gobs of money. And there are many people, and companies who will help you spend your money.

You can spend much less and get good results. My equipment has only two relatively new things in it. One Phono Cartridge, and one vacuum tube. All the rest of the electronics are decades old. My speakers are a few years old but I built those as I know best. The cost has been interesting. By selling off older even collectable stuff I have spent effectively no money over the past 7 or 8 years. Yes I bought that stuff once long ago, but economically it was sunk money.

I have the advantage of experience and know the good stuff from the less good. I know what brands to look for. I also know which products have cults around them that blur the flaws. I call myself a "cheap audiophile" as I will not spend more than low four figures on anything. The most expensive thing I ever bought was under 2k bucks. Most was far less than that.

One of the links the tag search brought up was guy who did not understand why anyone would buy Vinyl Records. The equipment is expensive and the media is less available than digital streams. There was one reply about the tangible nature of an album and actually owning a thing rather than just being allowed to access it. I will go further.

I have avoided high end streaming because of cost and complexity. To get good sound out of numbers you need several lumps and most are expensive. You need a computer or a server that is logged into a provider like "tidal" or "qobuz" or "apple music". Then you need a device that can store the bits on a drive either an SSD or even a spinning magnetic disc to avoid drop outs that can be the music server, but not the computer. Then you need a DAC to convert the particular stream to analog sound which is finally fed into your audio system proper. Aside from the subscription (I have apple music) you need three lumps that each cost more than a good turntable if you want audiophile sound.

In order to add a high end streaming line to my system would cost more than the replacement cost of my system as it is right now. So I have a low end solution. I plug my Iphone into my CD player with a nice-ish DAC in it. It is OK sound. But I swear if I play an LP of the same music after hearing it off my iphone to CD quality there is no comparison the LP is better.

And yes when it comes to vacuum tubes I vacillate. They are expensive and wear out. They sound nice. They have more distortion and artifacts than solid state, but it is nice sounding distortion. A big part of this hobby skews preferences to nice sounding distortion. Vacuum tubes and moving coil phono cartridges are prime examples.

My most recent experience was going from a full vacuum tube preamplifer to a hybrid with only one tube. The sound was rich and deep and involving before. Yummy like a good sticky baklava dripping with honey. Now it is detailed and frankly palpable. I can hear a singer part their lips before a phrase. You have to hear that to appreciate it.

I have been recently been tempted with two vacuum tube unicorn amplifiers for a very good price for that type of device. That price is double what a competitive solid state amplifier would be. And like I say at the local pub after my fourth beer, I want another but I don't need another. I am seriously tempted. I have a nascent love for the sound I know is in them. They have a voice and it is good. Actually this is a key aspect of the hobby. It is an emotional response to something. It is irrational.

Welcome to the irrational!

#audophile #irrational audiophile #cheap audiophile #high end audio #tubes vs transistors #audioblr #vinyl #turntables

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Heartache: Part One

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.1k

Warnings: canon angst and violence

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Any and all comments on these are appreciated.

Every once in a while, you get to enjoy the small things. You spent a whole week trying to find Kevin, but the kid wants to stay hidden. You can't really do much since Castiel isn't here to track him for you, and no other angel would want to help you three. You only have each other, and the best thing for Kevin right now is to keep him hidden. The more people know about him, the more likely it is that Crowley will find him.

Sam wanted to stop at a farmer's market for some fresh food, and you second that notion. Dean's been so caught up with finding Kevin that it didn't register to him where he was. Joanna refuses to leave his side, so he's trying to look on his phone while holding his daughter. It doesn't matter to you since you get a break from her. Carrying two kids inside of you and caring for a toddler is enough to make you go crazy, but you have two other people to help if you need it.

Not to mention that Amara hasn't left your side since you left the place that held the auction you three went to. She hasn't said much to you, just likes to stand off to the side and watch. It should freak you out, but you feel a sort of comfort from her. You can't really explain it, and you choose not to explain to the brothers. They would never understand because they don't know what it's like to have someone stuck inside their own head.

Well, Sam does, but he always feared Lucifer. You don't fear Amara... at least, not yet.

The best you can do is live your life in hopes she won't ruin it. You and Sam walk the aisles with Dean, but he isn't paying much attention to where he is going. You and Sam, though, pick and buy fruit when you pass by booths, munching on them. It's nice to experience this after a year spent in Purgatory. You're trying to move on from it while Dean is seemingly stuck in the past.

He has one foot in both places still, but you're trying to make it to the light at the end of the tunnel. You're a changed woman, for sure, but you try not to let it show just how much Purgatory fucked you up.

"Wow. Couple goes to Purgatory for a year, and all hell breaks loose. Check this out. A jogger in Minneapolis gets his heart ripped out," Dean says while reading from his phone.

"I'm guessing literally?"

"Only way that interests me. Then, there's another article from six months ago." While Dean is talking, Sam is putting veggies and fruit into a canvas bag he picked up from where he got his apples from. "Same thing happens, also in Minneapolis. What does that tell us?"

"Stay out of Minneapolis," you joke.

"Two hearts ganked, same city, six months apart. I mean, that's got to be a ritual, man. Or at least some sort of a heart-sucking, possessed, satanic, crack-whore bat."

Sam pays for the food he bought and continues walking to the next booth.

"A what?"

"It's a case. Look, I say we put Kevin on the back burner right now and ride."

"We're on a case, Dean. Kevin and the demon tablet need to be found, so the heart guy takes a number."

"Uh, we just spent a week chasing our asses trying to lock Kevin down, okay? Look at us. We're--" He stops himself as he takes in his surroundings. "Where the hell are we?"

"Farmers' market." Sam holds up an apple that he's eating. "Organic." Dena gives him a look, and Sam rolls his eyes. "What? I had a year off. I took the time to enjoy the good things."

"While avoiding doing what we actually do."

"Wow, Dean, does it make you feel that much better every time you say it?" Sam scoffs.

"Alright, man, look, I get it. You took a year off to do yoga and play the lute, whatever, but Y/N and I are back. Okay, we're back, which means that we walk and kill monsters at the same time. We'll find Kevin, but in the meantime, do we ignore stuff like this? Or are innocent people supposed to die so that you can shop for produce?"

You don't want to have this argument yet again so you break off from the group to gather your own fruits. Amara follows closely behind, not saying anything but hovering. You tolerate it for five whole seconds before you sigh and turn to her. You make it look like you're not talking to anyone so that no one thinks you're off your rocker.

"I'm worried about Kevin. What if Crowley already got him?"

"You know he'd taunt you with his capture. Kevin is fine. Crowley needs him to translate the tablet, and he won't do it if his mom is hurt in any way. Plus, it takes a while to translate something like that."

"How do you know that?"

"Well, I don't think it'd be like reading a book."

"I just wish I knew where he is or if he's okay. Not knowing is putting more stress on my body, and I don't think the twins are okay with that."

At the word 'twins', Amara looks down at your stomach. Something in her eyes changes, but you don't know if it's a good change or not. You don't have time to dissect it because Dean comes over and grabs your arm gently. You turn to him just as he moves you away from prying ears.

"What is it?"

"I'm worried about you. You're talking to no one, Y/N. This can't be good for the babies."

"Your babies are perfectly safe," Amara says before you have a chance to say something.

"Our babies are perfectly safe," you repeat her. Dean doesn't believe anything you say, but you don't have time to dwell on this. "Come on, we need to go."

Dean doesn't like this one bit, but you have no clue how you're even going to try and fix this. The only thing you can do is live your life and hope that it doesn't get any worse.

You left Zeus in the motel room since you know you're going to be here for a while, but you have Joanna with you since she is far too young to be by herself. Plus, what kind of mother would you be if you left her alone without any protection? Maybe once you know she will have her magic to defend herself will you be semi-okay with leaving her alone. You have no idea when that is going to happen, so for now, she is always going to be with you, her dad, or her uncle.

The police at the Minneapolis police department thought it was weird you have a two year old in your arms, but the glare you send their ways shut them up from making things worse for themselves. She's been clinging to Dean a lot more these days the more her personality shines through, but you have her this time. All she wants to do is copy her dad and be just like him, but she knows this is a situation where she needs to be with her mother.

It's scary how much she knows and she's only two.

"Here's what's odd about this thing," the lead detective says, putting the files down regarding the case, "the guy wasn't chopped or cut into--no incision. But his heart was ripped out of him like a peach pit."

"Was he robbed?" you ask and shift Joanna in your arms.

"His phone, watch, and money were all still on him."

"What about enemies?"

"He was in town for a conference. No local connections."

"You guys had another one of these about, uh, six months ago?" Dean asks.

"Yeah, and we hit a brick wall. We had nothing to go on, really. Thought maybe we got lucky here." The detective brings you over to a TV where he shows you a CCTV surveillance video of the park. "A park surveillance camera picked up something."

He plays the video and watches as a heavyset man passes by the victim, a physically fit jogger. The jogger is dead, but the overweight man minds his business and passes by him without another thought.

"Is the heavier man the last person to see the victim alive?" you ask.

"Other than the killer. His name is Paul Hayes. We, uh, pulled him in for questioning."

"So, what makes you think he's clean?"

"Well, so far, no reason not to. I mean, he said he briefly saw the victim, he ran out ahead, and that was it."

"What, you mean he didn't fall to his knees and confess to gutting the guy?"

"No. I mean we did a thorough check on the guy, not so much as a parking ticket came up. I mean, look at him. I mean, sure, he can run a little bit, but he ain't Thor. You think he's gonna grab Freddy fitness here and throw him down and rip out his heart? I don't think so. Forgive me if I didn't take him out back and shoot him."

"Okay, uh, so... any idea where we can find this guy?"

"Yeah, his address is here."

You take the files pertaining to the case and smile at the detective.

"We'll call if we have any other questions."

You three take your leave, and you head back to the car. Paul's house isn't far from where the police department is, so the drive isn't long at all. When you get there, Paul is more than happy to let you in and talk to you. Dean asks to go to the bathroom, so it's just you and Sam inside the kitchen with Paul. He seems like a health nut--nothing like the guy from the video.The guy from the video is a lot heavier than the guy in the kitchen.

What the hell happened to him?

Paul is in the middle of mixing a smoothie in a blender, and when you two settle in, he continues with his task.

"Sorry. I kind of try to stick to a nutrition and workout schedule. Do you want a hit?" Paul offers when it's done, pouring himself a glass of the thick liquid.

"We're good, thanks," Sam shakes his head.

"So, Paul, you passed a runner who was later killed. Did you speak with him at all?" you ask, getting right to it.

"Yeah, I went over this with the cops. I-I–I didn't know him. I had never spoken to him. I ran past him. I never saw him again. The end," he shrugs. A toilet flushes, and Dean soon returns to the kitchen. Paul takes a swig of the smoothie, but recoils in disgust. "Oh, it's disgusting. It tastes like shit, but it keeps you young."

He offers the drink to Dean, but the older brother quickly shakes his head.

"Thanks, uh, too much fiber."

"No such thing."

"Now, Paul, we couldn't help but notice that the jogger you outraced was a good deal younger than you," Sam says, leaving out the part about him being much overweight.

"Yeah and less--" Dean stops himself, but he makes the motion that he's talking about him being bigger.

"Uh, full-figured?" Paul says, putting together what he was trying to say. "You should've seen me before. Yeah, hugging a desk all day, watching TV all night, and eating fried everything was killing me. I had a health scare about a year ago."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"No, it changed my life. I mean, I started taking care of myself."

"Now your body's a temple, huh?" Dean asks, trying to be sarcastic.

"Where I worship every day."

He takes another sip, and you realize you're not going to get anywhere with this man. You say your goodbyes and leave with the brothers. With nothing left to go on, you decide to stop at a cafe since you're starving. After all, you're eating for three now. You try not to overeat while pregnant since you can gain a lot of weight that's very hard to lose, so you try to eat a normal amount as if you're not pregnant. That doesn't mean that you get a strong craving once in a while.

Joanna is old enough to enjoy a high chair since she's grown so much. Her appetite has changed as well since you last saw her. She used to enjoy mashed peas and carrots with the occasional cut up grape. Now, she's eating almost everything you're eating. She has such a healthy appetite for everything that it makes you sad.

You missed a year of her life--an important year of her life. She won't remember it, but you will. You'll have missed the first time she ate solid foods, the first time she actually strung a sentence together that made sense, and many other firsts. She chews on the food you've shared with her happily, but you look at her with sadness in your eyes.

Dean sees it, and he knows exactly what you're thinking. He's sad about it, of course, but you're more in touch with your emotions than he is. You'll show your sadness more than he ever would.

"She isn't going to remember you being gone," Amara says from next to you. "All she'll remember is that you're here now."

Somehow, that makes you feel a little bit better.

Wanna get tagged? Add yourself to this document! If your tag doesn’t work, find out why! Follow my library blog @queenofdeansbooty-writes​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can follow that if you can’t be tagged!

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#heartache #spn series rewrite #supernatural series rewrite #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fiction #dean winchester fan fiction #dean winchester fan fic #supernatural #supernatural fic #supernatural fiction #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fan fiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fan fic #supernatural fluff #supernatural angst #spn #spn fic #spn fanfiction #spn fiction #spn fan fiction #spn fanfic #spn fan fic #spn fluff #spn angst

[purry]

Sick of My Shit

About 9 months to a year ago I started "spring cleaning," and of course it took a lot longer than just spring. I'd just reached out for help and got on an antidepressant (which turned out to be magically helpful), and I was ready to dig myself out of sludge. I started with my front closet, the Closet That Time Forgot, in which I had stuffed things when I first moved into my apartment SIX YEARS AGO. Also it was just where things went that I didn't want to see or deal with. It was a deep closet. At the time, I pulled literally everything out of this closet. This was before I became a certified decluttering coach, trained under the amazing Dana K. White, who does NOT recommend pulling everything out! And I know this now, but in any case, that is what I did. I pulled it all out in effort to annoy myself enough to get rid of shit & figure it out. I live in a studio apartment, so it basically took up my whole space. Fast forward to six months later, I had an decluttered and organized front closet! And no piles of What The Hell Is Even This Stuff. I'm moving fast through this story just so I can get started. After The Closet, I moved on to other areas of my apartment, all the while reading books, blogs, and watching YouTube videos on decluttering and organizing. Once I'd done my first pass (6+ months of work), I started in on what felt like the logical next step: cleaning. I'm not a dirty or messy person, per se, but during the pandemic and the depths of depression, I just couldn't motivate to clean things. It took a while to get things back to their base levels, where they can be more easily maintained. I now use the Sidetracked Home Executives system with index cards, which is super helpful to me. I don't have to decide what to do, I just pull the day's cards & do that! (No matter that I'm the one that put those tasks in those days, I've already forgotten that part, and I don't feel like I'm having to decide in the moment.) THEN I moved on to my finances. Decluttering and organizing and getting healthy with my money. I was never great with money, and I also never made much, but over the years I've worked on getting better & better with money. I've found better and better jobs, super slowly, but surely. And finally I am in a position where I'm making enough money that I'm not just constantly putting out fires, but actually digging myself out of debt and creating savings, investments, etc! I am just now beginning that, and I am definitely not making tons of money, but it's better than it's ever been! Gotta start where I am. Which is just paying off debt at the moment, but that's amazing! January 2023 I started my side hustle of becoming a decluttering coach in order to generate more income. And do something that I now really enjoy (thank you Dana!) This aspect is just beginning, but it feels very right and exciting. This post is called Sick of My Shit, because I really was. I was sick of being depressed, sick of clutter and mess and piles and dirt and filth, sick of being in debt, having zero savings, zero investments, zero retirement, zero assets. Fucking sick of it! So here I am, multiple fires under my ass, somehow progressing through all of this (thanks Lexapro!), and creating a better life for myself. Who knew?

#decluttering #depression #lexapro #cleaning #finances #finacial freedom

[xbabymammax-blog]

The Best Man

The ache in my chest as I watch him throw his head back laughing at whatever his new wife said, throttles even harder.

I don't know why he was insistent on me coming here, after all his wife hated me. Always with the side glances and the snotty remarks about how I work more than spend time with the kids.

Well not everyone has all day to be at home.

Me and Matthew were together for 9 years, married for 2 before we decided that it's all gone to shit. Our sex life was pretty inconsistent, i mean rarely. 

What was the point though to come home after 18-hour shifts at the hospital to get all sexed up for five frigging minutes.

It doesnt' hurt hes moved on, i was the one that wanted the divorce. It's not because hes happy because he deserves the world and more. 

It's because after all these years I'm still alone.

I have a great job that I love and pays well so no matter what the kids want it's there. I'm just so lonely. 

As of right now, I'm the lonely ex wife sitting by herself drinking at six in the evening with a face of a smacked ass.

"Rach"" Matthews best man, Danny shouts out wya too enthysiatically. I roll my eyes at his loudness and take another swig.

"How you been Dan?" I ask, looking down. He slides in the chair beside me, waving over the bartender for his fruity drink. He insists he just likes the flavour.

"I'm doing well sweetheart, how are you?" he says wrapping his arm around my shoulder.

Me and Danny have always got on, mostly to play pranks back on Matthew back in uni or pull him into whatever form of mischief we wanted that day. 

"I swear to god if someone asks me how im doing once more." I grin back, hearing the question with pity in their eyes as they ask it, igniting a fire in my chest.

Rolling his eyes, he orders himself a bourbon, I lean forward taking out £200 "make it a bottle sweetheart."

"So what are they like?" you ask looking over to where the new in laws are surrounding smothering Matthew.

"They are pretty nice, the kids adore them." I nod feeling a tinge of doubt. One of my biggest fears is the kids preferring the new wife and family over me.

"Shake it off sweetheart, no one could replace you." He assures already understanding the sudden tension.

A give him a nod of thanks as a short silence passes by, the bartender placing the bottle between us with a glass, i watch as he fills up mine but leav2 es a shot in his own. 

"I'm sorry about Sophie, it must be hard for you being here." I say sympatethically. 

A loud laugh bubbles out of his mouth, "Ah don't worry about it, I'm over it."

You give him a grin to not continue dragging out the crappy tension. 

His ex fiancee Sophie left him at the altar after being together for four years, just walked away no note, text, nothing. 

We ended up chatting for a few minutes laughing over the silly stuff we all did in college.

Until a dark figure comes up behind me, allowing the tension to travel through my body.

"Susan." I say turning round to see my ex-mother in law staring down at me. 

She's hated me since forever, since my early college days she was nice but only I could see through the facade. Once I did med school and was never around. she started setting Matthew up on dates which caused a huge amount of friction between all 3 of us.

"Drinking your weight?" she says cheerfully. 

"Nope yours." I wink gulping down the contents, Danny filling up my glass as soon as it's finished. Hes always enjoyed watching us two go at each other. 

"So you ended up using your plus one for this crap? she says shoving her nose down at him.

I grit my teeth, clutching my glass harder "He's the best man."

Before i could even finish she cut me off "Real classy sleeping with the best man, your exes' best friend?" The words being spit out like venom.

I stood up making sure to look into her eyes "Who I fuck sweetheart has absolutely nothing to do with you." I spit back making sure to add just as much venom as she did.

I chug the next shot, dragging Danny off his stool, surprising him and dragging him down the corridor.

After a minute of wandering around, I stopped moving to drag my hands through my hair.

"So, you want to fuck me?" Danny says and I can hear the grin in his voice without having to turn around.

"Don't please." I say, "God she infuriates me for no fucking reason shes just out to get me." I rage dragging my hands across my face. 

He comes up in front of me to wrap his arms around my waist. I relax immediately to wrap my arms around his neck and stuff my face into his neck.

God, he smells good. 

After a few moments of deep breaths of his scent, I manage to calm down. "I'm sorry about that I shouldn't of said that about you." He chuckles against my hair. His chest vibrating.

He shook his head, "Don't apologise, I'm not angry about it at all." 

"You're not?" I look up arms still wrapped round each other eyes locking in place.

"Quite the opposite sweetheart."

It takes me a minute to realise what hes implying when I feel his length against my leg, I look at his eyes and notice they're on my lips.

"Danny we shouldn't, what if Matthew finds out." I say taking a step back.

"Do you still love him?" He crosses his arms over his chest. 

"Of course not, I just don't want to destroy your friendship with him over me."

"He doesnt fucking own you sweetheart." He says taking a step forward. "I want you, I have always wanted you, he ruined his chance multple times, now it's my turn."

"Oh yeah you want to own what?" I say stepping forward. The lust in his eyes matching my growing one." 

He takes me back in his arms "I want to own those lips, this ass." He says gripping it tightly, only warming my body more and making me wet.

"What are you waiting for?" He brings his lips over mine, brushing them softly. I wet my lips attracting his attention.

No hesitation. His lips lunge for mine, my entire body melting into his buttery lips, the muscles under his suit being gripped by my hands, not being able to get enough. He tastes of the whiskey and the tiramisu cake.

It feels like being with him, everything else disappears.

He opens his eyes as he pulls away, the forest green prompting me to dive into the deep end. Enticing me to kiss him harder with a new neediness. He picks me up with his hands resting under my ass. 

Groaning as I grind my crotch into his. 

The sparks ignite, as I fumble my hands to start removing his buttons to get his suit off. 

The speed in my fingers not doing it as quickly as I wish.

Buring his face into my neck "Need you so bad baby." I whine in his lips, he pushes me against the wall, pulling my dress up and taking my lace panties down. 

His fingers explore my thighs, grazing against my clit. I buck up my hips and shiver.

Every single whimper leaving my mouth goes straight to his cock. I pull my hands down and lower his pants and boxers, his cock pointing straight up and proud. 

I grip it in my hands, and he lets out a moan. 

Music to my fucking ears.

My pussy clenches around nothing at the sight, his moans only making me wetter.

I whimper and he loses his mind, he looks into my eyes and I give him a nod. 

He sinks his length into me, making us both gasp at the intrusion.

My pussy clenching and holding onto him for dear life.

"Fuck sweetheart, you feel so fucking good." He groans out. My nails dig into his shoulders as he fucks in and out, there's no rush just passion and it hits so deep exactly where I want him. 

"Oh Danny." I moan out "Feel so good baby, like your cock was made for me." 

He shudders at my words, groaning sexily in my ear. "You're taking my cock so well baby. So. Fucking. Well."

I moan out as I feel that fire igniting, and he picks up his speed. earning a series of screams coming out.

"Fuckkkkkk." I moan.

My name coming out of his mouth like a prayer, the desperation in his voice makes it clear he feels close too.

"Danny please I want to feel you cum baby." I mewl biting and licking his ear as a weak groan comes out, a bead of sweat dripping down his cheek and i slide my tongue over it. 

He starts fucking me harder, my back arching as his balls smack against my ass. 

Pounding into me like his lifeline depends on it.

"Cum for me baby, make a mess of my cock." The command goes straight to my pussy, clenching at his words. My senses all ignite at once, stars aligining behind my eyes as I explode over his cock. The action makes it hard for him to hold back and with a wet kiss to my mouth. his seed shoots up into me, a loud groan leaving his delicious mouth. 

We still pant onto eachother, our bodies connected and each of us relishing in the pleasure of our orgasms.

The thought of the exes or the fact we just fucked in a corridor less than a minute from the wedding party is put on the back burner.

A/N Also, when men make noises during sex, its hot as fuckkkk.

[momentia]

2x01 is the only time we see mike weston’s house.  it’s a cute little house in virginia, near d.c.!  honestly bigger than a single man who travels constantly needs, which makes me think... even at this young age baby mikey was planning for a happier future than the one he gets :’)

so trying to pay more attention to these three or four shots this time, i noticed something i haven’t seen in the six years i’ve been annually or so rewatching this show

mike, who never even bothered to bolt his damn mirror to the wall (you know it’s slid out at least once and knocked stuff off the dresser), carried that giant old tv and vcr up to his bedroom

pretty sure those are blank vhs tapes, not like commercial box art.  (that’s just a vague memory of the 90s talking, i can’t pinpoint the coloring on the box and match it to a brand or anything, and considering he’s eating kids brand cereal downstairs that is just trix with fake box art, i doubt they’re something exact and real anyway.)  the obvious joke here is that they’re sex tapes and/or pornography, but this is mike weston so no.  they’re family movies.  he’s spent his time during suspension watching family movies because he starts season two newly estranged from his friends and also his father  :’)

the rusty tool above the door.  what is that all about.  if anyone scrolling past this recognizes it help me out.  i want to know what kind of pretentious rustic decor that is, so that i can assign it a weston family backstory that explains why it’s there.  because he gets a pass on all the ancient antique furniture because that at least creates a vibe, but that little pickaxe is just a precariously balanced future emergency room visit

anyway my boy has been sleeping on his couch in front of his (better) tv, like you do when your anxiety is so bad that you can’t sleep any other way

also aside but i love when tv set designers are like “ah yes we will show his depression with two soda cans and a beer bottle and some dvds he didn’t put back in the cabinet” but meanwhile let me tell ya what a real depression living room looks like and it’s not spotless hardwood floors and clean windows

#food cw #alcohol cw #obligatory posting about #the following #for the year hahahhaa

[deeeelightfuldee]

How many times a day do you talk on the phone with your significant other?: ummm when i was with Z we would talk on the phone 2-3x a day. when i felt it was peak with K, once every couple days.

Other than English, what was the last language spoken to you?: spanish probably.

What math level are you currently taking/did you last take in school?: frick i hated all math. i took a lot of stats.

Who was the last person to ask you for relationship advice?: uhhhmmm... sawyer.

Do you have a sleeping problem?: yes. several. 

Have you ever taken a survey with a friend, listing both answers?: back in the junior high days that was popular.

Where would you order your favorite burger from?: i have zero taste for burgers these days.

Who have you been hanging out with most often these days?: em 

Do you know a guy who has hair longer than yours?: I probably do. but no one im close to.

What color was the last cup you drank out of?: clear

If you’re in school, what do you do to fill in time between classes?: im not right now. 

Do you have friends in your classes? im not in any classes currently. 

When did you last encounter someone you disliked? lol via instagram a few nights ago.

Ever been to a real haunted house?: supposedly. 

Where was the last place you got lost?: uhhhhhmmmm probably like 2 years ago tryin to get to alixs lol

What windows are open on your desktop right now?: yikes. uhh tumblr/surveys, timeline, library, college stuff

When was the last time you had cheesecake?: K got it for me a couple months ago with a cheesecake factory order.

When you last shed tears, was it because of a person?: outside of allergies.. yes. it was over the loss of what i thought would be a lifelong friendship/relationship.

Which music artists were at the last concert you attended?: hmm. it was like a cover band but idk their name.

What was the last thing you discussed through text messages?: lol how to switch phones -.-

How many songs are on your iPod/MP3 player?: I don’t use an ipod/mp3 anymore i just use spotify.

Other than yours, whose house did you last fall asleep at?: my sisters.

Have you ever had a significant other whose parents didn’t like you?: yes. Josh’s mom did not like me because at the time she thought i wasn’t educated (this woman had never spoken to me directly) because i was not currently enrolled in college. not once did she use a brain cell to consider the fact that there could be reasons as to why i wasn’t (like how i was paying off considerable medical bills) nor did it occur to her that it was none of her business. but she was OBSESSED with josh. like creepy obsessed. wanted to know where he was at all times, how much money he had, what he ate, what he was wearing. she was just super over involved. he recognized it was a lot and was working on stopping their inappropriate behavior, but then he passed away.

What’s so unique about your computer?: right now it is literally peeling off the sides. i dont freaking understand why because i BABY this thing. i love it so much. but its getting painful to use if it isn’t protected by other surfaces. it keeps knicking and cutting my skin. 

How was life for you six months ago?: hm. i was at the start of a new relationship. so that was exciting. idk. it hasn’t been the best go of it lol

How much is gas in your area?: around 6 bucks which is obscene. absolutely obscene.

What’s something interesting you learned in the past week?: that a person i dislike was harassing me and my family, still living with my person, and is making a point to not leave.

Do you know what you plan to do for your next birthday?: in the planning stages. its my big bash this year and i want it to be memorable. i dont ask for much so i would like to have one good thing for this year.

Was the last book you read for fun or assignment related?: for fun.

[backofthebookshelf]

The DMCA and You; or, why Tumblr won’t get sued over Post+

 I keep seeing people saying “doesn’t Tumblr understand they’re inviting an avalanche of lawsuits” and being baffled that people think this, and then I remembered that most of you were not both alive and in fandom in 1998 and therefore probably haven’t spent hours reading through the DMCA trying to figure out exactly how it was going to screw us. (Turns out we were right, but not nearly pessimistic enough.) So gather ‘round, children, it’s time for another bout of fandom history.

You have to understand what the internet looked like in 1998. Most people didn’t have internet access at home, and for those who did, you got a whopping 54 kbps (yes, that’s kilobytes per second) (compare that to 4G wireless, which 14 Mbps, not to mention, you know, wireless) unless you wanted to shell out for ISDN, which was twice the speed and five times the cost. Only 47% of American adults “went online” at all, never mind the two to six hours per day that current internet users are estimated to spend.

And I mean, why would you? There wasn’t that much there. If you wanted to post something online, your first and best option was to pay for web hosting of your own, or mooch off a friend’s. Or you could get a Geocities site, which would be plastered with ads and limited you to such a small amount of storage that you couldn’t have more than a couple dozen low-resolution images at best, or you could post on a message board (which would be essentially mooching off of a friend’s paid web hosting, because most sites that hosted message boards were just some guy who wanted to have a place to chat with his friends that wasn’t a Yahoo! email list), where you might get permission to post three or four images at a time. Music? Rude, takes up too much bandwidth, don’t do that to people. Video? You’re hilarious. (I once left my computer on for a week while I attempted to illegally download a copy of Velvet Goldmine but I finally gave up and got it from the video store instead.)

But still, at the time that was magic, and as more and more stuff found its way online, somebody who held a copyright somewhere (read: music studios and Disney) realized they had to get out in front of things. And into this brave new world came the Digital Millennium Copyright Act, which was passed in 1998 and was already skewing the shape of the internet of the future when it came into effect in 2000.

It did a lot of dumb things but the one we’re concerned about is the “safe harbor” provision, which basically says that in the case of an online copyright infringement, there are three parties: the infringer, the copyright holder, and the internet host, and the host is not a part of the copyright dispute.

Prior to this, if Sony or Disney or whoever found an illegal copy of their intellectual property (read: an mp3 or an avi) online, they’d go after whoever owned the server it lived on. Which made sense! If you find stolen TVs in someone’s basement, you go after the guy who owns the basement, and “I didn’t know my deadbeat brother in law was stealing TVs” is something you’ll have to prove in a court of law.

But internet companies like Geocities and Yahoo! and anyone else who offered random users the chance to post things on the internet using a free account said wait a minute, this doesn’t make sense. Because the internet is not like a physical basement; we have no reason to see someone carrying stolen mp3s down the basement stairs, and the scale is such that we couldn’t see all of them if we tried (unless we banned all mp3s, which means goodbye, MySpace, and goodbye indie bands). You wouldn’t go after a landlord in New York because their tenant in New Jersey is stealing TVs, would you?

So the DMCA said fine, we understand that the internet as it currently exists, and as it is attempting to exist (remember this is still the height of the dot.com boom and people are making money hand over fist by just owning websites), can’t operate if we try to do this. So instead of letting big companies sue big companies over copyright law, we’ll let big companies sue individual humans over copyright violations. That’s much more fair.

Of course most of what resulted wasn’t lawsuits at all; it was individuals getting threatening letters from Sony and Disney promising them that they were planning to sue but if you, Joe User, will just delete the thing you posted from the internet, we’re willing to make this all go away. And people did, because fuck, who’s going to duke it out with Disney?

The DMCA is the reason tumblr exists in the first place (not to mention twitter, and facebook, and essentially the entire part of the internet that isn’t either an ad or a news website). Technically, if tumblr was responsible for copyright violations, they’re already a prime target for a lawsuit, because they’re running ads on a website where people post copyright violations on a daily basis. Adding the opportunity for you to make money off your copyright violations doesn’t make them any more liable than they already are, which is not at all.

So here’s what predict will happen with Post+ at the beginning: absolutely nothing. A few people will monetize gifsets or fanfiction or vids and no one will pay attention and no one will care. But some small creators, people who post original fiction, people who post craft patterns, people who post insightful analysis, will start using it as part of their actual revenue stream. Sooner or later someone will be making enough money that it pings someone’s radar, and sooner or later someone making money will slip up and post something that could plausibly be a copyright violation, and they won’t get sued. They’ll get a takedown notice, a threatening letter from whoever owns the thing they infringed upon (...so Disney), and they’ll pull the thing. But it’s hard to pull things from the internet, much harder than it used to be, and nearly impossible the way tumblr works. So they get another takedown notice. Or Disney’s lawyers go through their blog with a fine-toothed comb and they start getting more and more unreasonable takedown notices, but now they’re scared and fuck, who’s going to duke it out with Disney? So they take their blog down entirely, and now that person is a little bit poorer and Disney is out the cost of four or five stamps and envelopes and the time their lawyer spent fifteen years ago drafting the takedown notice template.

I guarantee you that the people who decided to implement this know that this is going to happen, and they do not care. We’ve reached the “we could make this website work if we could just get rid of fandom” stage, which never ends well for the website but they never seem to learn that. So please, please don’t try to monetize fandom content on the assumption that tumblr is going to be the one to get slapped with a lawsuit for it, that’s just not how it works. It never has been and it never will be.

#tumblr is a website #fandom history #copyright law #psa