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patchworkgargoyle · 3 months

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🩸 A Steddie Big Bang Fic 🌙

Chapter 6

story by: @patchworkgargoyle || art by: @mcdadarts || playlist to come by: @steves-strapcollection || beta'd by: @tboygareth Rating: E || Words: ~6k || CW: blood drinking, accidental to intentional voyeurism, mutual masturbation (kinda) || Full tag list on ao3! Fic title from Wolf Like Me - TV On The Radio We're getting into the spicy shit with Eddie's pov today, folks! Mind the content warnings.

The research crew lasted twenty minutes after Harrington left before they gave up studying. Dustin insisted they’d checked every single musty tome even vaguely related to werewolves already and found nothing, and sitting there going through them all again was a waste of valuable time.

What wasn’t a waste, apparently, was sitting in the Harrington’s living room and watching a recorded version of Grease, commercials and all. Not that it mattered, because the kids all talked over themselves during the whole movie anyway. Though, sometimes, Eleven (and Eddie had yet to have that name explained) stopped to sing along under her breath and it warmed Eddie’s cold, sluggish heart so much that he sang Greased Lightnin’ with her. He hoped that would save him from facing Max’s brutal wit being turned on him for being a metalhead singing to a damn musical.

These children that Steve surrounded himself with–or, from the stories Dustin had been telling, it sounded like they adopted him instead–were insanely brilliant and brave, and the way they talked about Steve now that he wasn’t around wasputting even more cracks in the walls Eddie had put up to keep Steve at a distance. Not that it’d been working well in the first place. Steve himself had smashed a hole through it when he offered Eddie his own blood (something Eddie did his level best to Not Think About), despite only knowing Eddie for a little over a week. But Dustin, Max, and El, all so much more like Eddie than Steve was in school, and yet here they were, describing how he’d stopped some kind of lost swamp creature from ruining a farmer’s field, and probably being killed for it, with nothing but his charm and a big bag of compost. What a big damn hero he was.

So, sue him if he’d been rethinking all of his Doctrine bullshit. Steve wasn’t King of Hawkins High anymore; he was grumpy on the mornings he had an early shift, he indulged Eddie’s long-winded ramblings, owned a terrifying amount of medieval weaponry, and he took care of his people. And Eddie had found himself temporarily counted amongst them. It chafed and made him feel special at the same time.

Sometimes he found himself sneaking around the gym attached to the monster hunter library while Steve–no, Harrington swung around all sorts of dangerous and spiky implements in a training regimen designed to put all his rippling muscles on very athletic display. Eddie told himself he was studying up. In the unlikely event that Harrington did turn on him, of course. It was the smart thing to do.

Eddie had zoned out thinking of said training when he heard a car door close outside. Snapped out of his daydream, Eddie's head twitched towards the noise, and when Max’s did too all the kids were on high alert.

“That’s not Steve and Robin,” Max warned.

Dustin looked at Eddie, wide-eyed, and Eddie felt his hands clench in the arm of the couch. “Maybe it’s one of your moms?” he suggested, but Max shook her head. “Fuck.”

“It’s fine, I’ll answer the door, people know me and Steve are like this,” Dustin wrapped his middle finger over his index, “so that shouldn’t give anything away. I’m here all the time!” His nonchalant shrug did nothing to conceal how his voice cracked nervously and Eddie’s confidence sank lower. “Y’know what, maybe they’re just turning around and won’t even knock–”

Three hesitant knocks echoed down the foyer and Dustin winced.

Max glared, unimpressed. “You jinxed it, moron.”

“Shut up!” he hissed. Waving his hands around like a manic conductor, Dustin made everyone sit in silence while he stared at the door. Eddie hoped this would work, just waiting the person out, but his hopes were dashed when they heard slightly more frantic rapping. “Shit. Alright. Time for Plan B. Eddie, prepare for Plan C.”

“What’s Plan C!?” Eddie whispered anxiously. He hid his face in his hands when Dustin copied Eddie’s Dracula pose from earlier. “No, no, absolutely not, Dustin. Wait, hey!”

The kid raced to the door when the knocking came back and Eddie flung himself to the floor to not risk being seen. The sound of the lock was all the warning he got before Dustin opened the door and: “Oh, um. Hi there, you’re Steve’s friend right?” Eddie knew that voice. “Is he here still?”

Eddie popped up over the couch. “Chris?”

She grinned and waved, so Eddie scrambled off the floor and ran to tug her inside, deftly avoiding the sunshine, then wrapped her in a tight hug. Seeing her was more of a relief than he’d thought. Being stuck in Steve’s house without his stuff, his friends, his uncle…

“Oh fuck, I forgot to leave a note for Wayne.”

Chrissy snort-laughed into his shirt. “He called me and I told him you were okay, but I had to make sure.” She stepped back. “You do look okay. Good, actually. Even though, uh,” she trailed off and saw Dustin standing at the closed door wiggling his eyebrows at Eddie.

He narrowed his eyes at Dustin and subtly shook his head, only getting an eye roll in return. “We’ll talk about that later, I think,” Eddie said. “In the meantime, wanna help me babysit?”

After introductions were made–and El made Chrissy giggle when she bluntly but admiringly stated, “You’re very pretty,”–and they’d all settled back in, Eddie found that Chrissy fit right in. Dustin was a little starstruck at first, which Eddie chalked up to the whole freshman nerd kid and senior cheerleader thing, but as soon as she started asking about the summer camp hat he wore he started infodumping like his life depended on it. Chrissy, used to listening to Eddie’s endless speeches, participated like a pro. The way Dustin’s grin kept growing made Eddie think she’d just earned a friend for life. Eventually Max peeled Dustin away from Chrissy with a few well-placed taunts so she and Eddie could catch up.

Chrissy’s life had been going along as normal, though she’d been keeping tabs on Jason just in case, she told Eddie. He wished that hadn’t made her wince with guilty regret, but they’d fought before over her relationship with him so badly once it nearly cost him their friendship, so he kept his opinion to himself. As far as she knew, though, Jason was acting normally.

Eddie had a little more to talk about. Gossiping about Steve with her was a relief; who knew he’d learn so much about the former King in just a few weeks of forced cohabitation?

“You know, he mumbles to himself,” Eddie said, ignoring that he was also mumbling. “He’ll mumble and when I try to talk back he gets in a little snit and says ‘I wasn’t talking to you!’” Chrissy giggled at his very poor impression of Steve’s voice. “What does he expect me to do? He asks himself questions and I answer and he gets all bitchy at me. But I can’t win, because, get this, he’ll bitch at me again when I don’t respond because he’s mumbling in the same damn tone!”

Eyes sparkling with mirth, Chrissy covered her smile with a hand, her knees tucked up to her chest on the couch. “Why don’t you tell me how you really feel?” she teased.

“I don’t like your tone,” Eddie said, eyes narrowed. Her smile grew wider behind her hand, and when she raised an eyebrow he folded his arms. “Don’t get any ideas, Cunningham.”

“No, nope, no ideas.”

He glared at her for a few more seconds before a song came on over the TV that jogged his memory and he pointed at the screen. “And you know what else he does? He sings. Into objects. Like his hairdryer, straight out of the movies like a weirdo!”

A loud snort caught his attention and Eddie’s gaze snapped to Max who was watching Eddie from the corner of her eyes with a smug, knowing expression. He felt like a deer in headlights suddenly, until Max rolled her eyes and went back to talking to El and Dustin.

“Despite all that, looks like you’re doing pretty well here. And you don’t seem, um, thirsty.” She whispered the last word with a curious quirk to her brow, and Eddie shrugged.

“Got it covered, the last time. You don’t need to worry about me so much, Chris, you’ve got your own stuff to handle.”

“Yeah, okay, my best friend being framed for murder isn’t something to worry about,” she said, rolling her eyes before turning sombre. “Eddie, I’m gonna worry until you’re safe. I hate that I can’t do anything about it.”

Eddie shifted in his seat. He was always uncomfortable with people worrying over him, but it’s not like she was wrong. This was serious, the worst scrape he’d ever been in and he didn’t even know why it was happening in the first place. Dragging a hand down his face, he heaved a sigh and looked down at the floor. “Sorry, Chris. You’re doing enough just by being here.”

Her mouth pursed unhappily, but before she could say anything more, car doors slammed outside once again and Max perked up.

“Steve’s home.”

Before he could react, the door flung open and Steve stood there, his eyes darting across the group. When he caught sight of Chrissy, he sagged. Robin, right behind him, looked ready to fight until she also saw that everyone was fine.

Eddie tracked Steve as he trudged up the stairs without a word. He was smeared all over with dirt, his face grim and tense, but the walkway above obscured him from view before Eddie could get a better read on him. Robin drifted into the living room and curled up into the one empty chair, almost swallowed by the plush cushions. Dustin got up and switched the TV off.

“What happened?” he asked.

“‘Nother werewolf,” Robin said quietly, and the words spread like a shockwave through all of them.

So, Dustin’s plan had worked. The killer struck again, proving that Eddie was innocent, but also that there was someone with a vendetta against werewolves. Steve must’ve had to bury the body too, and that made Eddie’s stomach drop to his feet. With a glance up, he saw Max looking more stormy than usual. She, Robin, and Steve were all in danger, then, more so than Eddie himself was, in his opinion, and now he really understood how Chrissy felt. How could he help them, stuck in this house, unable to go out in the daytime, waiting for the killer’s next move? His hands started to shake, whether it was with fear or anger he couldn’t tell, but he stuck them under his armpits and squeezed, ignoring the way his jaw tensed and his leg started to bounce.

“I’m so sorry, Robin,” Chrissy whispered, and Robin’s head snapped up like she didn’t even realise Chrissy was there, her eyes going wide.

Robin nodded, her surprise quickly eaten away by dread and she murmured a quiet, “Thanks.”

“Were there any new clues?” Dustin asked with an unusual amount of respect.

“Steve and Hopper didn’t find anything, but Jason Carver showed up and said some things. Steve could tell it better but, uh, he should rest. This was… hard on him.”

“Jason?” Chrissy frowned.

“Yeah, I dunno, something about finding the body first but Steve didn’t really wanna talk about it. I think, maybe, we should talk about it in a day or something.” Robin fidgeted with her rings, looking from Chrissy to upstairs to the floor.

Eddie’s eyes were drawn to the upper floor where he could still faintly hear Steve’s heartbeat, the occasional foot fall, like he was pacing but trying to be quiet about it. His lips pursed into a thin, worried line.

“He didn’t tell you anything?” Dustin asked.

Robin gave him an unexpectedly angry look, so Eddie jumped in. “Dustin, man, you’ve been researching all day, give it a break alright?”

“But–”

“Push it and I’ll tell Jeff to kill off your beloved little warlock next session.”

Dustin’s eyes narrowed, but Eddie’s serious tone must’ve gotten through to him because all he did was huff and cross his arms.

“Maybe we should go,” El said, looking upstairs now too.

“I can’t drive, and Eddie can’t until tonight.”

“Shouldn’t leave at all, probably,” Eddie added dourly.

“I can drive you.” Everyone turned to Chrissy. “I’ve got my mom’s station wagon. It’s no trouble.”

Eddie nudged Chrissy with his knee. “You sure you wanna handle these gremlins?” he teased.

“I’ll keep him in line,” Max smirked while Dustin pouted.

Dustin crossed his arms and tilted his head back imperiously. “Eddie said grem-lins, plural, Maxine.”

“You’re pushing it, nerd.”

Robin stood in a sudden flurry of movement. “Okay! Better get all of you gremlins home before Chrissy decides to take back her very generous offer. Come on, shoes on, chop chop!” She clapped her hands in a way that Eddie intrinsically knew came from Steve, and the kids all stood and started towards the door for their shoes.

El, though, stopped beside Eddie. “Can you thank Steve for having us over for us please?” She said it so seriously, so earnestly, that Eddie swore his heart grew two sizes.

“Of course kiddo.” He reached out and ruffled her long hair, and she giggled while leaning away.

When Chrissy got up to leave, Eddie joined her, wrapping her in another hug before she left. “Thanks for taking everyone home.”

She shrugged. “It’s something I can do, at least. And, well, maybe Robin can tell me a little more about what Steve might’ve said about Jason. I’m… I’m really worried, Eddie.”

“I know Chris. I’m sorry.” He squeezed her a little tighter. “We’ll figure it out.”

With the brats corralled, Eddie waved them off from the shade of the doorway. Robin gave him a short, awkward wave, a blush over her cheeks when Chrissy put her hand on the back of her seat to back out of the driveway, and Eddie filed that away for another time. Then he shut the door against the sunlight and returned to the now eerily silent house.

It was something he noticed the longer he stayed here. When Steve was away at work, Eddie left to his own devices, all he had to do was read the books he’d brought, maybe snoop around for some others, plunk away at his guitar and fill the silence with the old records that the Harringtons left to collect dust. But even with the music playing, the house seemed to absorb noise, like a museum. And there were barely any signs of life, except for the occasional bit of mess that Steve left around when he ran out of time in the mornings. Everything that Steve left alone: the whole dining room, entire guest rooms, even the hallways seemed to eat noise and repel clutter that showed anyone lived there, even Steve.

Eddie had, admittedly, snuck into Steve’s room once or twice. He’d left the door open, what was a curious, bored vampire expected to do? There, thankfully, was some personality, though the awful plaid wallpaper did its best to drown it out. The messed up bed that Steve couldn’t be bothered to fix up, a few clothes scattered by his hamper, some magazines–sports, mostly, and some gossip mags, to Eddie’s disappointment–piled on his nightstand. He didn’t bother poking around in any drawers, didn’t want to risk moving too much in case Steve caught on and got miffed.

What did Steve even do in this house all alone? What did he do before he had to cohabitate with Eddie, who, he would readily and sometimes proudly admit about himself, was a rather irritating guest at times. Eddie kinda hated thinking about it too hard.

But right now, the silence was disturbed, just barely. Eddie could still hear the pacing above.

He was torn. Something in Eddie wanted to check on him, but Steve hadn’t come down to even speak to the kids. He would’ve heard them leaving. Would he even want the nosy freeloader in his house knocking at his door?

His feet started to move towards the stairs before he even decided. Each stair he climbed, he tried convincing himself that he was just heading to his own room–not his room, the guest room, nothing in this place was his, jesus–but he passed the door that he should have stopped at. Kept going to the end of the hall, and the pacing stopped.

“Hey, uh, Steve?” Eddie knocked on the doorframe, even though it was completely unnecessary. “You alright in there?”

No response. Eddie could hear Steve’s heart, racing too fast to be mistaken for calm. A few seconds passed. A few more.

“Sorry,” Eddie mumbled. Turning, he was about to walk back to his room when the door opened.

“It’s fine.”

Steve had one hand on the door, the other hanging limp at his side. He was still covered in dirt; smelled like it too, fresh soil and sweat, and something distinctly off and Eddie had to fight wrinkling his nose at. It made Steve look pale, and Eddie felt that was wrong. Steve was built for the sun, for being golden, he shouldn’t look pale.

“You should shower, dude,” Eddie said, trying to a rueful smile, but the humour didn’t land. Steve just shrugged it off.

“I guess. I will.” He turned and wandered back into his room, leaving the door open, and Eddie couldn’t find a reason not to follow. It felt enough like an invitation. Walking in, he tried to make it seem like he was seeing the bedroom for the first time, but Steve scoffed.

“I know you’ve been in here, Eddie, I could smell you in here when I got home once, you don’t have to put on an act.”

Eddie stiffened. “Oh. Uh. Sorry dude.”

“Whatever. I kind of expected it.”

“That’s a lot of trust you’re placing in the resident drug dealer.”

Steve shot him an unimpressed look. “You sell weed, Eddie,” he said flatly. Wobbling his head, Eddie mouthed the words back at Steve silently, mockingly, which finally drew a tired laugh from him. It wasn’t the kind of laughter he could get after verbally tearing Frank Sinatra to shreds while they got high on the living room floor, but it was good enough. The sound didn’t last, though, fading like every other sound in this fucking house, leaving a gaping silence where they both stood awkwardly, a few scant feet between them.

Eddie shifted on his feet, stuck his hands in his pockets then took them out and folded his arms over his chest. Meanwhile, he watched Steve, who couldn’t look up from the carpet. “You probably don’t want me lingering around in your domicile, so I’ll just–”

“Are you thirsty?”

Now that, that rang out through the room. “What?”

“You spent all day around the kids, and you haven’t fed since, uh, since last time when everyone was around.” Steve finally looked up from the carpet, something burning in his eyes.

“Nah, I’m fine, pretty good actually,” Eddie stumbled out.

“You said you fed from Chrissy every few days though.”

Truth was, Eddie was hungry. It was sort of an ever-present thing, though easy to manage once he’d learned how to sate it in a way that actually satisfied him. And yeah, it had been a few days since he’d bitten Steve’s wrist, but the way Steve acted around him the next day–flighty and awkward, not sticking around in the same room too long–made Eddie less than inclined to ask for more.

“I can deal, Harrington, it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine.” Steve started walking closer. There was a determination, a heat, in his gaze that made Eddie feel a little warm and jumpy, and he started backing up. “You should be in peak condition if something happens. And I–”

Steve reached out behind Eddie and closed the door, Eddie having to back up against it, trapping them both in the horribly plaid room that Eddie couldn’t even see, because Steve was right there, in his space, so close Eddie could feel the warmth radiating from his body. Steve’s arm was still outstretched, hand pressed against the door by Eddie’s head.

“I want you to.”

Heat flashed under Eddie’s skin, his sluggish heart beating faster. “What the fuck do you mean, man?”

“I mean.” Steve ran a head through his hair, messing it up worse, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “It makes me feel good–better. The bite. And, you gotta drink, so it’s like. Win-win or whatever.”

“Win-win?” Eddie said, high and nervy, “The hell? How does it make you feel good?”

“Just, please?”

His voice sent a lance of desire and hunger through Eddie’s spine. Steve’s face looked haggard, dirt caked into every worryline, but something burned in his eyes, something needy, and he was so fucking close they were sharing breath. Eddie could see the blood coursing through his neck, the artery so close to the skin, and he must’ve stared long enough, hesitated enough, that it spurred Steve on. He deliberately pulled down the collar of his shirt and tilted his head to the side, baring his long, freckled neck to Eddie.

That desperate, unnatural hunger that had haunted Eddie since he woke up on a cold forest floor in Chrissy’s arms, ever-present and voracious, grew like arousal in Eddie’s gut. Saliva pooled under his tongue and, unbidden, his teeth began to elongate as his gaze locked onto that pulsing rush tantalisingly close to his face. The longer he looked, the faster Steve’s heart raced, the more tempting he was, the warm scent of his heightened emotions wafting into the air like wine and pulling Eddie closer.

Just a taste, he promised himself.

Eddie let one of his hands wrap around the back of Steve’s neck, fingers threading through his soft hair, while he grabbed the hand Steve was using to hold the shirt down, pulling it further out of the way. One last glance at Steve’s face, and Eddie saw his eyes had gone heavy-lidded, his mouth dropping open just slightly when Steve caught sight of Eddie’s fangs. Cocking one eyebrow, he tilted his head further, into Eddie’s waiting palm, trusting he’d be held, and Eddie couldn’t hold himself back any longer.

He surged forward, and bit into Steve’s neck. The first gush of rich, metallic blood made Eddie groan and Steve gasp. Instinct made Eddie bite harder, deeper, his teeth sinking without resistance into flesh and muscle. Eddie’s fingers clenched where they held Steve, pressing him flush against his own body. Steve didn’t even flinch, seeming to arch into the touch, panting. His skin flushed; Eddie could feel the flood of warmth down Steve’s neck from his face as it bloomed against Eddie’s cheek.

Feeling bold and ravenous, Eddie withdrew from Steve’s neck to manhandle him against the door instead, slamming him against it with a bang and pressing against the long line of his body before licking up the rivulets dripping from the punctures. The soft oh he drew from Steve felt as intoxicating as his blood. Clinging to Steve like he was, Eddie didn’t feel his hands move until Steve’s fingers dug into his side, keeping Eddie close.

Steve’s free hand clutched Eddie’s, the one resting on the unmarred side of his neck, twining their fingers together and squeezing, and Eddie’s breath hitched as he squeezed back. He laved the flat of his tongue over the wounds before pressing his lips around them in an open-mouthed kiss and sucked, drawing a fresh flood to the surface. The taste was fucking addictive. Something lurked in Steve’s blood that made the most base, monstrous parts of Eddie sing and snarl with greed, something heated and needy.

It clicked, when Steve’s hand roved down. Grabbed Eddie’s ass though his jeans to hold him still while Steve rocked his hips up, his hard dick brushing against Eddie’s own and making them both moan. And oh shit, Eddie was so hard it was painful.

That taste was desire, hormone-spiked blood, more potent than any drug or liquor Eddie’s ever had. The instant he placed it, he knew he wanted more. More blood, more of Steve. He met the next roll of hips with a reedy whimper, muffled against Steve’s neck as he still drank deeply of that heady taste, let Steve’s hand guide him this time, enjoying the thrill of being led. Until.

“Fuck, Eddie,” Steve groaned, low but loud in Eddie’s ear, and reality crashed down around him.

Eddie shoved himself off of Steve, ripping himself out of his grasp and pressing the back of his hand to his blood-stained mouth. Wide, panicked eyes met Steve’s, still heavy-lidded and dark but growing confused. God, what a vision he was as he leaned against the door, gasping for breath and hard in his jeans, flushed deliciously red despite being drank from like a fucking juice box. It was… it was terrifying. Fear sparked and caught in Eddie’s chest. What the fuck was he thinking!?

Brows furrowed, Steve stepped forward. “Eddie? What is it?”

“Shit.”

Eddie bolted. Dodged past Steve, whipped the door open and ran to the guest room as fast as his unnatural speed let him. He slammed the door behind himself and braced against it, scared that Steve would try to bust it down as soon as he came to his senses. And he would. There was no fucking way Eddie could get away with that.

He knew his bite did something. Chrissy had tried to do research for him, but couldn’t find much without Jason catching on, but she’d told him the bite makes prey less likely to fight back. But she’d only ever relaxed, like getting high, not–not like Steve trying to rub one out on him. Not like moaning Eddie’s name while they were so close together Eddie could still feel how it rumbled in his own chest.

Anxiously, Eddie licked his lips and only tasted Steve, wincing at how that made his cock throb against his zipper. “Shit,” he whispered shakily. A manic laugh threatened to bubble up but he swallowed it back.

That was so stupid. All of it. He should’ve realised as soon as Steve asked to be bitten again that something wasn’t normal about this and put a stop to it. Could’ve called Chrissy; she was coming by tomorrow anyway. Now he had to worry about Steve kicking him out and forcing him to walk home with the murderer still at large. The one who fucking framed him, for a reason none of them have discovered yet. He let his head fall back against the door with a hollow thud, and waited.

Minutes passed, then hours. The sun began to set, and Eddie found himself anxiously pacing around the room, packing his duffel bag then unpacking it, his clothes strewn out of it like a racoon had rifled through them all and found his wardrobe lacking. Yet through his own chaos, Eddie couldn’t stop himself from keeping an ear out for Steve.

He hadn’t left his room, not once. Sometimes he paced, and Eddie caught the occasional frustrated huff. When Steve’s habit of talking to himself kicked in, Eddie resolutely ignored it–meaning, of course, that he listened anyway but felt deeply guilty about it. But nothing he heard made any logical sense. “What did I do?” spat as a frustrated whisper was the most baffling, but Eddie refused to contemplate that it might mean anything other than Steve wondering how he’d gotten suckered into bumping clothed uglies with The Freak.

So Eddie paced and unpacked and re-packed and stewed over the countless stupid life choices he’d made to bring him to this moment until the sun was well beyond the horizon and his hair was a frizzy mess with how often he’d been digging his fingers into it. The carpet, shockingly, didn’t show a single dent with all the trudging around he’d done.

Simultaneously wiped out and still wound up, Eddie flopped onto the bed with an explosive sigh and slapped his palms over his face, grunting loudly. If Steve was debating whether he would kick Eddie out or not, he’d rather Steve get on with it and put him out of his misery before the sun came up. He didn’t want to burn to a crisp before he got to see Wayne again.

“Fuck it,” came another irritated whisper from Steve’s room. Eddie braced himself for stomping down the hall, for Steve ripping the door open, furious, demanding that Eddie leave. Instead, he heard bed springs squeak. It took little effort for him to listen closer, frowning in confusion.

Then, Eddie heard the quiet zip of jeans being undone, and shuffling. A relieved sigh.

What?

Was Steve doing what Eddie thought he was doing? There was no way. No fucking way. Sure, Eddie had been staving off the raging hormones he’d drank straight from Steve’s veins all night with little success, hoping he’d burn through them with his pacing and ignoring how he’d been half-hard for most of it. Steve had to have crashed from the high by now.

And yet. There was a hitched breath from behind the two doors separating them. Eddie swallowed, and dragged his hands down his face, letting them flop to his sides. This might be Steve’s home, but did he really have to do this now?

Eddie didn’t even want to admit what had happened, not that it helped. With Steve apparently jerking it just down the hall, though, the images rose unbidden behind Eddie’s scrunched eyelids anyway. How the blood flowed slowly over the tendon in Steve’s neck to pool in the divot between his collarbones, the dark desire in his blown-out pupils. The way Steve’s fingers dug into the meat of Eddie’s ass to pull him where Steve wanted, right against his cock.

The sound of Eddie’s name in Steve’s mouth as his lips brushed Eddie’s ear.

He swore soundlessly. Wriggling a little and hissing at the growing tightness in his pants, Eddie sent up prayers to whatever deity was listening to make him Not Horny. No thoughts of old people or relatives or complex dungeon traps could take his mind, or his hearing, off of Steve masturbating quietly just a few feet away. Didn’t he realise that Eddie could hear him? Steve wasn’t the only one with super hearing. It was rude, and terrible hosting behaviour, and–

Steve moaned softly, though it cut off like he knew he might be heard–too fucking late for that–and Eddie wanted to scream in frustration so badly he clamped his hand over his mouth. His dick throbbed, though, at the new sounds echoing his way. Wet, slick sounds.

Fuck. Swallowing down a wave of guilt, Eddie let his hand trail over the bedspread, along his hip, and cupped his dick through his jeans with a shuddery sigh. He bit his lips together to make sure no noises escaped as he squeezed himself. It’d been too long. Out of respect to his werewolf host, he’d hadn’t rubbed one out the whole time he’d been at Steve’s. Steve, apparently, had no such reservations. So…

So why not? Why the hell not. Eddie undid his fly and quietly as he could slipped his cock out, already hard, the tip flushed red. He couldn’t help remembering that he had Steve’s blood in his body now. How he’d tasted. Breathing heavily, Eddie stroked himself, thinking of the way Steve’s plush lips parted, the fire in his eyes as he begged Eddie to bite him… how big his cock felt, though it was trapped in his jeans.

The familiar weight of his own cock twitched in his hand, a spurt of precome dripping down, slicking the way. He could hear how Steve’s heart rate picked up now that he’d given up trying not to listen; now that it, too, had become familiar.

Steve made another sound. A groan, deep in his chest. Eddie’s mouth dropped open with a harsh sigh. He was so fucking turned on. The taboo of listening to Steve get off, jacking off to it, praying Steve couldn’t hear him too, made that frisson under his skin rise and burn so fast Eddie started to feel breathless, wound tight.

He stroked himself faster, hips canting up into his grip, desperate to chase the feeling as he imagined how Steve looked sprawled on his bed with his massive hand wrapped around his cock. Eddie couldn’t help wondering what it’d feel like to have Steve’s hand replace his own and that image made him clamp his mouth shut around a quiet whimper.

Eddie heard Steve swear again, his voice going a little higher, and Eddie found himself nodding, like the other man could see him. He wanted to be seen. Wanted Steve to rush in, see him furiously pumping his dick and know exactly what got him here. Maybe he’d crowd Eddie against the bed and start to take him apart with his long fingers, grind their cocks together, fuck his way inside as they kissed all heated and dirty and chant Eddie’s name–

Steve moaned, then, quiet enough that Eddie almost missed what he said.

“Eddie.”

Shock forced a desperate whine out of Eddie’s throat before he choked it off with a gasp. Oh shit. Oh shit. He froze, could tell Steve had too. Steve heard him. He knew. He felt his heart in his throat, thundering away.

Until he heard it again. A tentative, “Eddie?” from down the hall. Confirming he’d been caught. Why didn’t Steve sound pissed?

There was the distinct click of a cap being opened. Still frozen, Eddie couldn’t believe his ears when he heard Steve start up again, jerking himself off slower now, the sounds slicker, wetter. He… he knew Eddie was listening, could easily guess why Eddie had fucking whined like that, and he was still…

God. Fuck. Oh fuck that was hot. And terrifying. How the hell was this even happening!?

Steve keened, loudly, and Eddie cursed as his hips bucked helplessly into the hand still wrapped around his aching cock. This was insane, absolutely nuts; Eddie had never even thought of something like this despite his expansive and wildly horny imagination. But he followed suit and started fucking into his fist, fast and filthy, past the point of caring that Steve could hear the bed creaking slightly with his movements.

And then Steve did it again. “Fuck, Eddie,” he moaned. Deliberately. Eddie couldn’t hold back the needy cry that rose from his throat, muffled as he bit his lip against the growing pleasure sparking along his nerves. He was gonna come, quickly, felt it barreling closer like a freight train. Steve wasn’t holding back his sounds anymore either, every gasp and groan unconcealed, stroking his cock without any fucking shame.

Eddie was shaking, panting hard, losing his rhythm. Thoughtlessly he started to beg, “Please, please please please.”

“Shit, yeah, do it, c’mon Eddie,” Steve urged, “gonna come too, oh shit!”

Fireworks exploded behind his eyes. Every muscle in Eddie’s body seized as he came, whining so fucking loud as he spilled over his fingers, cum splattering his shirt and soaking in warm and sticky, cock pulsing hard when he heard Steve cry out, a satisfied, guttural thing. Gasping for breath, Eddie went limp on the bed, his mind empty of all thought except for the way Steve moaned his name, how he sounded when he came.

There was no more movement from Steve’s room. Eddie could hear him in there, his breathing evening out along with his heartbeat, but he didn’t get up.

Was he waiting for Eddie? There was no way he’d go over there himself. He was still processing the everything that just happened. What if Steve had still been affected by the bite, and now that he’d gotten it out of his system he regretted literally jacking off with Eddie? More or less.

Eddie’s anxieties swirled through his mind until morning. Steve didn’t leave his room once.

#bee if you see this i'm so sorry i forgot to credit you until now i am a whole ass #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #vamp!eddie #werewolf steve harrington #stranger things #steddiebang #steddiebang23 #steddie big bang #steddie big bang 2023 #hideous thing sbb #sav scrawls stuff

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bullet-prooflove · 9 months

Text

The Half Way Point Part Four: Grow Strong - Angel Reyes x Reader (Feat Felipe Reyes) - Final Part

Tagging: @proceduralpassion @crazy4chickennuggets @callsignartemis @kmc1989 @witches-unruly-heart @keyweegirlie @infinity-mars @danzer8705 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @appreciatelove @the-wandering-lunatic @weiwei0210 @anime-weeb-4-life @multifandomloversworld @harperdoodle @est1887 @prettyinpunk85 @thanossexual @briefpersonenemy @creativitybeware @librarian1002 @mortal--soul @buddinglinguist @spookyboogyuniverse @spaghettificationandpretzels @nu1freakshow @thebaileybugle @legally-a-bastard @oureternalbond @bonsaijoons @sclitvdes

The Half Way Point:

Part One: Pink Roses - Felipe doesn't like you.

Part Two: Blessing - Felipe gets to know you a little better.

Part Three: A Safe Space - Felipe helps with some repairs.

The two of them have been watching you for ten minutes through the kitchen window and you still show no signs of coming indoors. Instead, you’re at the front of Felipe’s house digging out the borders alongside the rose bush because you’ve arrived with compost and a determination to do something about Felipe's shitty soil.

“When I invited you over for dinner this is not what I had in mind.” He tells Angel as he sips from his beer bottle.

“It’s her thing.” Angel states, rubbing his palm over the back of his neck. “She fucking loves getting her hands in the dirt.”

Felipe knows what you’re doing. He fixed your bench, oiled your gate, and then weatherproofed them both, and now you’re repaying the debt. He wonders if this is how it’s always going to be between the two of you and then realises that he’s started to think of you in the long term.

“You gonna marry her?”

“Eventually.” Angel tells him, his gaze never leaving you as you dump a fuck ton of compost into the earth. “We’re three months in. She’s going to think I’m nuts if I propose now.”

“I think she’s a little nuts anyway.” Felipe remarks turning his attention back to the oven. He slips on a pair of yellow oven mittens that Marisol used to use, before pulling out the oven tray with the jacket potatoes. “Go get her in before the neighbours think I’m too frail to attend to my own front yard.”

Angel complies with the request and Felipe watches the conversation through the window. When you tip your head back and laugh, he knows Angel’s told you what he said. He finds the corners of his mouth turning up as he heats the pan for the steak, he’s been marinading all afternoon.

He knows what love looks like and he knows that Angel is head over heels for you. It's the first time he's seen his son actually happy. He thinks you feel the same way, you’re tender with your affection, stripping off your gardening gloves and slipping them into your back pocket, before your fingers trail along the line of his jaw guiding his mouth to yours. It's almost too intimate to watch.

Felipe turns his attention back to the stove as you come through the door, heading straight towards the sink to wash your hands.

“It's too late Felipe,” You tell him as you turn on the tap. “One of your neighbours has ready asked me if I’m your new gardener.”

“That makes a refreshing change.” He remarks and Angel can't help but laugh at the sentiment as he pulls out a chair for you.

It's surprising how normal eating with other people feels to Felipe, despite the fact it's been a couple of years. The conversation flows easily, switching from the work that Angel's been doing at the community centre to other programs they have. He gets the sense that Angel is hedging around something when he shares a meaningful look with you.

“What?” Felipe says setting his knife and fork down in the centre of this plate.

“Are you sure you want to do it tonight?” Angel asks quietly tilting his head towards the urn on the sideboard.

Felipe sighs before leaning forward, his elbows coming to rest upon the table.

“I think it's time, don't you?”

Angel meets his father’s gaze, his lips pursing together before he nods his agreement. It’s been over six years since his mother died, it’s time for her to rest.

“Do you want to wait for EZ?” You ask him, pushing your empty plate away from you. “It's starting to get dark out, if we’re going to do it tonight, it should probably be soon.”

“We'll give him a few more minutes.” Felipe says looking up at the clock.

“We can always do it by candlelight.” Angel says, looking pointedly at the cupboard under the sink. “There's always a few in the disaster kit.”

It's half an hour later that you find yourself on your knees in front of Marisol's rose bush, digging out a small hole in the soil alongside the roots. Each of the Reyes men are stood behind you, EZ and Angel holding a candle to illuminate the darkness, while Felipe cradles Marisol’s urn to his chest.

“You're sure about this?” You ask them again as you set the trowel down in the grass beside you.

“Mom would have loved it.” EZ says reassuringly, his hand coming to rest on his father’s back for the briefest moments. “Something new growing from her ashes.”

You look to Felipe before kneels down beside you and removes the lid from the urn. You watch as he tips his late wife's remains into the soil. You use your trowel to cover up the hole before you pat it down flat. Felipe places his palm upon the earth, his thumb smoothing over the dirt as he whispers into the night.

“Grow strong my love.”

Love Angel? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#angel reyes x reader #angel reyes x you #angel mayans #angel reyes #felipe reyes mayans #felipe reyes

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thefiresofpompeii · 6 months

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now that i’ve deferred because a uni degree is nothing but an entrance ticket into moderate financial security and not worth utterly obliterating my mental health over i am compiling my own curriculum. all the posts i’ve ever tagged with #ref because they contain essays articles and other texts that i want to read but have never gotten around to, all that goes on the list. around fifty academic articles and book chapters downloaded onto my laptop from jstor while i still have access to it, tailored to fit my personal interests.

rearranging my self-education. little mx autodidact. carving out a passage through the brambles with a freshly sharpened machete. make no mistake, the thorns are piercing and will continue to tear at my exposed limbs, but the pain is worth the fruits of knowledge at the end, real knowledge and not something superimposed from above. i know, i know, undergrads aren’t afforded that freedom of narrowing our study, it’s something earned with time and effort and only fully permitted at a “higher” level of education, but who determines these levels?

it sounds silly and rash, but it’s a long-deliberated decision. the university environment is not right for my weird brain despite my literary inclinations, and i prefer to select my own path towards learning while working a low paying job on the side. perhaps i’ll return in a year’s time after all, matured and mellowed, hardened or roughened with real-life experience and online self-teaching, to pursue liberal arts as the most, well, liberated pathway. maybe not.

maybe if i had gone to one of those colleges where they allow you to pick and choose your own modules for your degree entirely (like one of the people that i most admire on this website did in its time) things would have gone down differently, but alas. let the world keep turning and let everything that serves no purpose any longer decompose and compost into something new .

“what has this got to do with autism?” you may ask, “i’m autistic and i completed a normal bachelors’ degree just fine.” your answer: having been in a place of moderate autistic burnout for years that abruptly turned severe in the past few months, my bodymind has shifted into what is known rather disparagingly under the medical model as “autistic regression” or “regressive autism”: a gradual distancing further and further away from accepted neurotypical standards of moving through and navigating the world around me.

one of the ways in which this unmasking presents itself, apart from the more noticeable characteristics such as outwardly visible stimming and a complete absence of eye contact, is a total inability to focus on, be motivated by and/or engage in any (textual, literary, cinematic etc etc) materials that do not connect at least tangentially or superficially with my special interests (that being ghosts/hauntings, hauntology, folk horror, lovecraftiana/cosmic horror, horror in general, the gothic, neurodiversity, alternative music; narratives/storytelling, folklore/fairytales; queer theory; carceral abolition and liberation; and a few other subjects here unlisted). according to normative capitalist logic of usefulness and productivity, that makes me “severely disabled” by virtue of “restricted interests”. i would say it makes me a interesting person with tall twisted tales to tell, but nevermind that silly nonsense, it’s a mad person speaking.

at this present moment i have no motivation, wish nor desire to continue wasting time and energy attempting to study and remember things that do not connect with the key concepts that my mind is constantly orbiting around. if that makes me incurious or annoying or limited, so be it — this neurological difference affects every aspect of my personality and i do not wish to change it. if the world around us refuses to change, we must either alter it ourselves or construct our own pathways out of the shadows and into the moonlit garden.

#thank you cavar sarah for directly/indirectly inspiring me to make this (highly personal yet hopefully informative to some?) post!!#@librarycards on here #aer writing on transMadness and adjacent topics gives me life and constant material for thought and consideration #jamie.txt #uniposting #autism #actually autistic #neurodiversity #neuroqueer #autpunk #disability #autistic #autism acceptance #college dropout #autistic burnout

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ofoceansandtombsanew · 1 year

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a/n: and here is chapter 2. there was a lot of fun that went into writing this chapter and it’s great to finally have it out to be read. enjoy any references you can spot because i had fun inserting them. we are all the reader and we are clearly on our willow park vibe. i was late to add it to the masterlist but irnbtv can also be read on AO3.

Taglist (send an ask to be added or removed); @etherisy, @crowbird, @junephantom21, @tanspostsblog, @yaesflorist, @d4y-dr3am3r, @liesatemyocean, @masayanausuario, @xiaorby001, @ghostlysyntaxed, @personified-smol, @jasontoddisfantastical, @kurawooooooo, @yuii-v, @joeyxsnow, @levisbebe, @lemonlimesocks, @celestialsiren , @ainescribe,

Bold couldn’t be tagged.

chapter ii; finding your roots masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

Dear Master Diluc,

Fuck offー

Dear Master Diluc,

We get on like water and oil; that is to say, Pyro and Dendro. Fire and Plants. You clearly represent the fire. Which, if you ever took the time of day to get to know me you’d know I fuckingー

Dear Master Diluc,

What if we just broke off the engagement?

No one would blame you for it. After all, to everyone else I’m just the Mad Dog of the [Surname] Duchy and a Crazy Bitch. I don’t want to just pull the misogyny card out all willy nilly but this world finds fault in a woman even if she isn’t 100% to blame in a relationship falling apart. Because I’m not.

You failed this relationship by willfully leading me on like I’m some sort of dog that you can give the carrot and stick treatment and I am tired ofー

Dear Master Diluc,

How else can I say it?

You’re being let go.

Your department’s being downsized.

You’re part of an outplacement.

We’re going in a different direction.

I’m not picking up your optionー

Dear Master Diluc,

While it would be best to say this in person, I feel like it would be best done through the written word.

Simply put, I don’t love you anymore.

Firstly, you do not love me. You weren’t obligated to return any feelings I had for you and I do apologize if my actions ever made you uncomfortable. But it would have been easier discerning you only considered our engagement a political one and had no love for me you two-timing, ginger piece ofー

Okay. Me. I know we hate him, but we need to do this in a way that won’t get me killed afterwards. You had no clue if it was possible for Diluc to kill you directly in Hard Mode; you never made it that far, unfortunately. Still, it wasn’t worth the risk when his favorability was at -10% to start with. Even if he didn’t attack you directly, some sort of ridiculous event could transpire with you dying in the process whether by fork or broken neck. And we can’t mention him cheating, he hasn’t done it. Yet.

You grimaced, looking at your most recent attempts at trying to script a sound and reasonable breakup letter.

To the compost they went.

You had plenty of time to come up with something more amicable before you officially split from the main cast of Seraphim’s characters. As it turned out, avoiding them was quite easy when you were at rock bottom status and most didn’t want to invite you to social affairs because of it.

You always found it strange how the parents of characters such as these rarely cared about the things that went on in their lives but you were thankful the negligent parent trope applied even now. As long as you didn’t do anything too outrageous, the Duke saw it fit to leave you be. So you had wasted no time in shopping after the idea struck you that you were in serious need of test supplies.

Now it had been nearly a month since the luncheon and things were going well all things considered. Perhaps too well, hence why you didn’t let yourself rest completely. For the time being, avoiding the main cast was your priority. Even if you weren’t fearfully fighting for your life because of Hard Mode, you read plenty of villainess manhwa to know where things would go if you interacted with them.

All I’d do is accidentally seduce someone and end up in a harem a la Catarina Claes, you reasonably concluded your first night of constructing a plan to leave the kingdom. Therefore, like Zombieland’s Columbus, you had your own internalized set of rules for surviving the situation you landed yourself in.

No writing things down. Carnelia Easter thought she was safe because she was writing in Korean but then that hot evil dude decoded everything and figured out how she knew everything that was happening.

Speaking of Carnelia, I don’t know what type of villainess isekai trope I’m in so avoid the love interests and if they can’t be, be as platonic as possible. This’ll either go the usual accidental harem route or in the Carnelia route of everything I do being seen as shitty and evil for the longest and ending up in me dying because of misunderstandings. I should probably avoid banging anyone in the first place even if they aren’t a love interest. It’s giving ‘Fantasy Game set in the Slut Shaming Era’ in Teyvat.

No rescuing any beggars or injured animals. That trope is as plain as day and old as hell. They always end up being some hot dude with way more baggage than originally intended when the protag first brings them in.

If I somehow end up being a lucky Raeliana where some really high level priest wants to adopt me and take me away on a pilgrimage, take it. It’ll get me out of here faster, but… knowing my luck that definitely isn’t going to happen.

In the case of this being a situation where Lumine is some other reincarnated girl from my world who isn’t a girl’s girl, forget any plan I already have set in motion and abandon ship immediately. It will not be worth any trouble I get. She can have whatever love interest she is obsessed with and I’ll gladly skedaddle.

In the case I catch feelings for someone or the horny gets too strong, I guess it’s fine later down the line if I do end up meeting a nice person. Just as long as it isn’t a love interest. And after I’ve left this place. Fucking hell, where’s MY Caesar? Not the Villainess Divorce Caesar, the one that dies in JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure. Rest in Peace, my hunky beloved.

Excessive as they were, you knew these rules would keep you alive and on track. If only this was something like, I Reincarnated into the Heroine of My Favorite Otome Game and Seduced the Villainess. [First] I would have treated you right. With a sigh you stood up; you wasted enough of your paper trying to write a breakup letter and imagining being Lumine wouldn’t help your progress. Back to work I go.

The staff either thought you lost your mind or that perhaps you were returning to ‘your’ commoner roots, either way field cultivation was where you decided to direct the bulk of your attention.

Field one was for testing the extent of amplifying growth with Dendro.

Field two was for testing how long you could keep plants alive with Dendro.

Then there was field three, the Dendro-less control group.

Wherever you went, if you were going to make use of your newfound abilities to support yourself, you needed to know what all you could do. After all, you had plenty of questions and your endless supply of knowledge on Light and Abyssal magic from Normal Mode wasn’t going to help you answer them.

Maybe I should go to the Akademiya. The various books Lumine found in Normal Mode always proved themselves useful in the hidden gems Seraphim had to offer. Her research had always been geared towards her own magic, however, so most of the in-game books you read had to do with the topic. And I should really get some fertilizer for field three… Maybe I can get some at Pardis Dhyai? I could always go there to get herbs for potions but there’s bound to be other things there to purchase too.

But for now, the progress you were making was something to be satisfied with. Or maybe it wasn’t. You couldn’t find yourself caring considering you still had this high for the past month. I can do magic!

A large portion of you is sure that any of the magic types of Seraphim would have been satisfactory for you.

Geo would have meant you were an earthbender like Toph.

You remembered your moody teenage days of being annoyed by the constant loop of Let It Go but it was too easy to imagine yourself belting out the lyrics and attempting to see if you could make icy-themed outfits like Elsa if you could use Cryo.

And the idea of literal lightning being at the beck and call of your fingertips gave you a power surge that made you shudder with cackles.

Yet there was something wholly satisfying with Dendro being the magic your transmigrated self was stuck with.

Lumine described Light magic like a warmth in her chest. A faint glow that became blinding light behind her eyelids until it burst forth. That light was pure and feathery, an energy silky to the touch.

For you, Dendro felt like life itself. Behind your eyelids was a forest of tall trees and grass unkempt but beautiful and your fingertips felt like blooms were sprouting from them.

The easiest thing to make, you found, were leaves and grass. It was practically Dendro 101. A quick wave of your hand and a spray of leaves would strike in the direction you aimed in. When you first began experimenting with field one, you found that weeds seem to grow faster than your seeds did.

Specific plants required more specific mana instructions.

Roses felt like they were cloaked in perfume, earthy elegance exuding from them in waves.

Dandelions depended on the stage of life they were in; the flowers felt like they peppered your hands with its energy. Meanwhile seedheads felt light and wispy, ready to drift at a moment's notice.

Sunflowers were like the sun, bursting with inexplicable warmth. A humble leader.

Fruits were sweet and fluid, flexible in a way you couldn’t explain. Vegetables had a similar nuance, but the sweet was lacking.

You chalked these discoveries as simply needing to gather as much information as you could before you left. Yet not even you could deny that these discoveries were more so dependent on the child-like glee you had at the fact you were, in your own right, a mixture of Cornelia Hale, Winx Club’s Flora, Shiemi Moriyama and Willow Park. Oh my gosh this is so cool! Sorry Haylin, Sorry Irma, I’m all Team Plant right now.

You were giggling as you weeded your fields for your compost.

This magical stupid hierarchy doesn’t know what it’s talking about, you look at your work proudly. This is way cooler than anything else I could have been given. (You ignored the minute part of you that wanted to debate how this thought would have been the same regardless of your element.)

You wouldn’t let yourself get too distracted by magical antics; you still had many questions that needed to be answered.

The amplification of growth was easy enough once you began realizing the patterns. As for testing the durability your magic gave plants, that was still a work-in-progress.

You look at your second field with your lips pursed. It was hard to tell if your magic was actually doing anything. So I definitely need to ask someone about that if I can’t get any direct answers from the books. You considered asking Alhaitham himself before pushing that idea aside entirely. Alhaitham isn’t even an Amurta researcher though, pretty sure he is in Haravatat. As such, he confided in Lumine that his magic didn’t serve any use for him in terms of research and was more so a benefit in physical altercations. And I should just avoid the Love Interests for now unless I actually have to interact with them.

It doesn’t help that you don’t think Alhaitham would enjoy talking to you in the slightest anyway. And I forgot that he’s a total recluse, he never shows up to things if he can avoid it. You glance to your third field, recalling your need for fertilizer.

Tighnari would be safe to ask then, I think.

He wasn’t a Love Interest, nor was he someone who had been exposed to the deplorable reputation you were the proud owner of.

You stood up, dusting your dirt-covered gloves on your trousers. A trip scheduled to Pardis Dhyai was just the thing then.

next chapter; ? masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

#look she's writing #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #alhaitham x reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #candace x reader #zhongli x reader #baizhu x reader

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sunnydayroleplay · 1 year

Note

PLEASE PLEASE I BEG OF YOU I NEED YOU TO WRITE SOME SHAUN COMFORT IT COULD BE ANYTHING I JUST NEED MY CATBOY TO COMFORT MEEEEEEEEE Thank you and have a good day!

Alright alright! You’ll get your daily Shaun needs! Not my fault that everyone lives, laughs, and loves Joseh and Jack!

I agree, he needs more lovin’!! Shaun comfort it is~

Contents Inside: Cuddles, Bathtime with Shaun, Attempts at making dessert..

18- DNI, even though this is a SFW post, the game it is based off of is an 18+ community. It is for your own safety, and you interacting not only jeopardizes that, it jeopardizes mine, and the creators of the games. For SFW + 18- safe content, check out my art page instead. @feralhalfnhalfcreamer

———————————————————

Hypothetically, right now you are in desperate need for some comfort.

You’re sad, upset, you need a big strong man that has a soft sweet cat that is in the mood to do just that!

You’re huddled up in your bed, scrolling mindlessly on your phone, trying your best not to burst out.

Moonpie makes her way onto your bed and rubs her face onto yours, making her way through the opening of your arms.

She dips her head and blinks slowly at you, purring softly before she balls up right by your head.

You put down your phone and pat her soft fur, feeling slightly better.

Shaun comes into the room after going grocery shopping a few minutes later

“I’m back! I’ll make sure to put them away-“

Shaun immediately notices your mood change, and rushes up right beside you.

“Are you alright? What happened?”

“I’m okay Shaun..don’t worry-“

“Ah, ah,ah! Don’t you tell me not to worry about you! I know when somethin’s up. Who did it?”

“No one did anything, I’m just..not in a good mood.”

“Would some of my love help?~”

“Ehe, always.”

Shaun laid down beside you, and pulled you in close to him.

He brushed off hair that was covering your face, so that he could actually see it.

A hand grazed your cheek, and the other patted Moonpie’s perfectly smooth head.

You let out a deep sigh and buried your face into his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist.

Shaun let out a giggle.

“Why aren’t you cute~”

“I’m always cute!”

“That you are.”

“Mow!”

Moonpie seems to agree.

The two of you stayed like this for a good while.

Shaun massaged your shoulders, and gently caressed your neck.

He kissed you every time you asked for a kiss.

With the occasional stupid pun.

“Hey, Y/N.. what did the sushi say to the bee-?

“What?”

“Wasabi.”

“Get out-“

“Aha! Please you can’t tell me that wasn’t good!”

“That was terrible Shaun! Terrible!!”

You share a laugh with him, even though he made shitty puns, your shitty mood got better.

You felt so much relief, and joy whenever you were with him.

He was always so nice, and he was always there for your own needs.

He made you feel like you were the only person in the world.

After he cheered you up, he took you out of the gloomy room and decided that it was a fine time to bake.

“Shaun, do you even know how to make cupcakes?”

“I guess we’ll find out!”

“And I guess I should have 911 on speed dial-“

“C’mon, have some faith in me honey-“

“Don’t honey me- At least follow a recipe!”

“I do have a recipe, thank you very much.”

“From what?”

“Let’s bake!”

“Jesus Christ.”

It started off surprisingly well.

Started off..

It only got worse.

The measurements were wrong.

The bowl was either too big or small.

The stand mixer probably caught fire, it smells smokey.

With all of this in mind, you guys’ somehow got something in the oven.

“Bake at 350, Shaun. 350.”

“I know, I know! 350.”

“That’s 450.”

After about 20 minutes pass, or however long it takes cupcakes to bake- you take them out the oven.

They’re burnt yet..raw??

They’re soggy when you eat it, but it’s crunchy?

Can you even legally classify them as cupcakes anymore?

Whatever they are, it’s getting composted.

And you two definitely need a bath.

Shaun shook out at least a cup of flour from his hair, and you probably have egg shells in yours.

At least you guys had fun.

“I think we should take a bath, and then clean up-“

“You think? Silly.”

Shaun rushes over to the bathroom to turn on the faucet and get it to temperature.

You get undressed and wrap your towel aroujs you, holding a few others.

Shaun pours a generous amount of soap underneath the running water.

“That is one bubbly bath.”

“It is a very bubbly bath.”

Soon enough you slip off the towel, and slip inside the bath.

Shaun comes in immediately after.

Your body begins to relax in the warm, warm water.

Shaun pours some water over your head, and grabs your shampoo, making sure to get a lot.

He works it through your roots to the tips of your hair, making sure all that gunk was out.

You couldn’t feel more relaxed and happy.

You flutter your eyes closed as he began washing the soap out of your hair, and work in conditioner.

Once getting squeaky clean was done, you accidentally splash Shaun trying to get up.

In return, he splashes you back.

“Hey! That was an accident!”

“Annnd?”

“Ugh, you’re such a jerk-!”

You had fun.

You definitely felt better than before.

Shaun always knew how to cheer you up, even though you “seemingly” hated it.

You don’t hate it, you love it more than anything.

You love that he’s this big, tough guy sometimes, but in reality he’s just a softie with a big heart.

And that softie with a big heart is always willing to make your day.

#jacktor #sdj jack #sdj jacktor #sdj joseph #sunny day jack #swwsdj #somethings wrong with sunny day jack #sunny day jack roleplay #sunny day jack joseph #sdj jean #swwsdj shaun #sdj shaun #sunny day jack shaun #sdj shaun x reader

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jaw-writes · 26 days

Text

I Despise You Darling

I despise everything about you. Your endless void eyes, freakishly long legs, ever smug smile, deceptively soft touch, strangely floral scent. All of it. You attack each of my senses every time you come near me. To think that we were once best friends, I had more faith in you than anyone, whenever I needed advice or a shoulder to cry on, I went to you first. You meant the world to me; it makes me feel sick whenever I remember how the girl I loved was a lie

You betrayed me, your best friend, in the name of a grotesque experiment where I’m the lab rat. There’s no doubt that you started the fire that continues to burn my life, but I can’t deny that I’ve enjoyed pouring the gasoline. At first, I did my best to avoid becoming obsessed with you, constantly holding myself back knowing it was wrong, but you made it impossible. Your mind is a carefully curated garden brimming with all sorts of life. As each day went by, I wanted to pick another flower from it, feel another blade of grass, and bask in its intrigue.

I learned so much about you through observation, that I never could as your friend. Last year when I found out that you’d been stalking me, I had no idea why you’d do such a thing, now I understand. If watching me gave you a quarter of the feelings I get from watching you, then I’d almost forgive your actions. Gazing at your life through an analytical lens elicits feelings in me I didn’t know existed. It’s almost impossible to describe the manic rush of joy and power I get.

Although, I think we enjoy it in different ways based on how we view each other. To you I’m your favorite seed in your garden, you want to watch me grow into your ideal tree. So, you take what you know about how I function, and combine it with your understanding of the world to make a compost for me. As brutal as the water you drown me in and the harsh sun you scorch me with is, it’s all part of your method to make me grow. I am a creation you live to see reach its full potential.

To me, you’re the opposite, a malicious computer program that I enjoy watching destroy itself. You have never felt an ounce of empathy and have always needed to control any device you encounter. Once you find a target, you infect them with your virus, mining every piece of their data, and adding them to your collection of stolen lives. You successfully did it to me, but unlike the others, you kept going. Focusing on my activity far after you were done stealing from me, constantly coming back to see how I’d adapt to a new trojan horse you threw.

Soon, I became the only user you engaged with, no other piece of tech mattered unless it was connected to me, and God, did seeing you like that feed my ego. A smile forces its way to my face at your meticulous plans growing in detail and intensity as you can’t focus on anything else. I, a random individual with nothing but a hint of illness to him, is who you put all your resources into. I’m unable to fear you anymore, while I gaze at you practically living for me. In your efforts to crumble and rebuild my life. You’ve made yourself incapable of having your own.

Both of us have embraced the worst aspects of ourselves through the sick experiments we’ve been running on each other. You may be the greater evil between us, but I’m no longer afraid to admit that I’ve become a devil myself. I mean, I lured you into an abandoned warehouse, called upon one of my allies to help me fight you, and then shot you ceaselessly, making sure it was in areas that would maim, but not kill you. Now why would I do that? To make you paralyzed, of course. I was incredibly particular about where I aimed.

You’ll be unable to move your limbs for at least four months, which invigorates me. I’ve been watching you and your caretaker. It’s great seeing both your arms and legs in casts. You had already been losing your strength to your fixation on me, but now you’ll be incapable of running away. If you find yourself fearing me right now, know that whatever happens next is your fault. I’m not the Anti-Christ, so I’ll simply enjoy observing your lack of mobility, with no further harm, but prepare yourself because the moment you can walk, I’ll be waiting.

Unless I’m lying like you always lied to me, and I’ll strike once one of your limbs heal. Maybe I’ll be tracking you even more and will be able to tell if you’re pretending that you haven’t healed so I don’t hurt you sooner. Maybe I won’t even wait for when your body starts recovering, and you’ll wake up to me standing over your bed with my hands on your neck. I know how much you like analyzing and picking out patterns with me, so I’ll make sure you never know what to expect. I could be bluffing, and this is all to scare you off, so I’ll be done with you, you’ll never know.

Are you starting to regret choosing me for this? Does the thought that you’ve grown a deadly poison plant out of your control kill you? Or are you loving this as much as I am, and you want to rub yourself all over me to get a blistering rash? I think it’s a mix of both for you, but who am I to say, it’s not like I’ve been watching your every move, right? No matter what you feel, just remember, I despise you, darling.

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daydream-cement · 1 year

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Violet and Rose Ch. 22

Larissa Weems x OC (Fern Rogers)

Authors Note: We need to get these two back to work soon! Yeeeshhh.

Frankly, Larissa had been overbearing since you returned to Nevermore. It had been a week and each day she would randomly check in on you to prevent you from doing any laborious work. You knew it was only because she cared, but her chiding about lightening your workload in the classroom and greenhouse grew tiring. With the stress of classes beginning in a few days, the pregnancy, and your worries about the forest, all you wanted was your hands buried in peat moss or wrapped around a trowel.

When you entered the greenhouses, you were shocked by how well everything looked. Truthfully, you hadn’t been expecting much to be alive, but Rowan seemed to have actually done what you asked of her. Even some of your more difficult to care for plants were thriving. Maybe the vampire had a green thumb after all.

You puttered around the greenhouse with headphones on, deadheading and removing unsightly leaves that develop from the passage of time. After a long while of caring for the tropical trees and shrubs, it was time to get down on your hands and knees to care for the ‘forest floor’ of your conservatory. Albeit time consuming, this was one of the most relaxing parts of running a greenhouse for you. As you crawled through the understory, you dragged a 5-gallon bucket behind yourself to discard all of the plant parts into.

As you kept moving deeper into the forest, you kept running across thriving patches of venus fly traps and pitcher plants. You found them to be quite curious as you didn’t raise carnivorous plants, but in the end you uprooted some and left patches of the rest, assuming a student must have planted them. When you finish, you clamber to your feet and push your way from the little jungle, coming face to face with Larissa.

She is speaking but you can’t hear a word she is saying due to the volume of your music. She seems to be furious, however. You pull the headphones from your head, trying not to dirty them too much, “Hi, honey.”

“What are you doing? I’ve been trying to get your attention.” She was completely exasperated with you. Her eyes scanned you up and down, seeing your palms and fabric at your knees was darkened with soil, “I told you not to do any laborious work.”

“Okay, doctor.” You push past her to empty the compost bucket in the compost pile just outside the backdoor to the greenhouse.

She follows behind you closely, “Fern, you shouldn’t be pushing yourself. What if-”

“No ‘what-ifs’. I spoke to Dr. Feng and she said it was perfectly fine to continue working in my greenhouse and caring for the forest.” You prop the greenhouse door open with your hip and dump the compost bucket. Afterwards, you push past Larissa once more, making her follow you back to the front of the greenhouse, “When I’m further along, then that might change. For now, I can go about my regular life.”

“When did you talk to Dr. Feng?” Larissa was right over your shoulder as she followed you about, her frustration with you now down to a low simmer.

“Yesterday afternoon. I was on the phone with your mother and she was there, so I took the opportunity to ask a few questions.” You pushed the bucket into its spot on the bottom shelf, dropped the trowel into the sink, and began washing your hands free of dirt as you spoke, “Now if we are done with the interrogation, I need to go out to the Council of Cedars to see what happened to the forest.”

“You can’t go out there by yourself-”

“And why not?” You pushed your wet hands to your hips and stared up at her defiantly. If Larissa had learned anything by now, it should be that you truly didn’t take kindly to being bossed around.

“What-” She was about to give another one of her ‘what-ifs’ when she stopped herself, choosing to rephrase her statement, “I just don’t want anything happening to you because I can’t be around you.”

“Honey, you can’t be by me every part of the day and you know that. You are more than welcome to come with me. Then I can see you in those boots that my mother mailed us.” You teased Larissa for a moment, wiping your wet hands on your shirt. If there was one thing that always bothered Larissa, it was the way you always wiped your hands on your clothes rather than using a towel.

Her arms folded over her chest, not wanting you to go alone but also not wanting anyone at Nevermore to see her in those atrocious shoes from your family farm. During her defiant silence, you spoke again, shaking your head, “While you decide, I’m going to start walking to the forest.”

You begin walking towards the backdoor to the greenhouse again, taking a shortcut. Larissa stops you with a hand on your arm, “Fine… Let me change out of this dress.”

—---

You couldn’t hide the satisfied smile on your face as Larissa trugged behind you. Much of the undergrowth was more troublesome to walk through when compared to months ago so burrs stuck to your jeans. Larissa was troubled in accepting that she was doomed to be covered in burrs as well, “Fern Rogers, there has to be a better way to get out there than this. You are pranking me, aren’t you?”

You smirk, happy she can’t see the look on your face. While you were feeling some type of payback for her being so bossy earlier, there truly wasn’t another option to get out to the Council of Cedars. Turning your head, you see Larissa lagging a bit too far behind, so you lean against a tree and wait for her to catch up. Her hair was falling out of place and the scowl on her face could kill, “Remind me why I love you.”

“There are millions of reasons. Off the top of my head, one would be the fact that I am pregnant with your children… and the other would be the fact that I will run us a bath and make us dinner when we get home.”

She rolls her eyes at your words, arms folding as she stands before you. Larissa was pouting as she looked around the forest, her eyes scanning for the Council, hoping that you would be close. You were struck by how beautiful she truly was. Even with Larissa’s light complaining, you loved that she decided to come with you. Being outdoors in this forest was one of your favorite places on earth, so having the opportunity to share it with her from time to time was wonderful.

Finally she noticed your staring, her face softening as she peered down at you, “What?”

For the first time in a long time, you felt butterflies in your stomach and your face became flushed, “Nothing… I just like you.”

Larissa paused a moment before letting out a laugh, one of her real Larissa laughs. Even though you were both gross from the long hike, she pulled you into a one armed hug. Some of her hiking frustrations seemed to melt away, “I like you too.”

You resumed your walking, Larissa keeping up this time. You could sense that you were getting close, the texture of the firm ground was giving way to the soft squish of moss beneath your feet. While you found the terrain easy to maneuver, Larissa did not share your same feelings. Occasionally, her hand would fall on your shoulder, stopping you from moving forward until she could gain a comfortable footing again.

Finally, you saw the towering cedars in their clearing. Larissa gently squeezed your side when she noticed them, not knowing they were already in your line of sight. Even from a distance, you could see the dieback from the center of the circle and how it had begun to fill back in once more. It was patchy, making you wonder what could have killed it and healed it in the same week.

Larissa lingered just outside the ring of trees, waiting to see what you would do about the concerning growth patterns in the center of the circle. First, you rotated around the cedar trees, hoping that one would just tell you what happened, but no voices came to you. You should have known better, you were the one who was supposed to be watching over the forest, not them. You make your way into the ring of trees, cautiously walking on the dead patches rather than disturbing the young mosses that were emerging.

When you kneel to the ground, Larissa takes a protective step into the circle, her eyes waiting intently for any motion that you need her help. You press your hands into the dead plant matter, and try offering some of your energy to the dead, but no power moves through you. You feel none of the warmth radiating from your chest down though your arms and into your fingertips. How strange. You pull away in concern, staring down at the scene beneath you. You were at a complete loss for what to do.

You lean down and press your hands to the earth once more, trying again, but again nothing happens. Larissa notices your obvious frustration as you try over and over and approaches you from behind, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder, “What is happening?”

“My-my powers aren’t working.”

At your words, Larissa sinks to her knees next to you. Her hand comes to rest on your back, trying her best to encourage you, “I’m sure everything is okay… Maybe they are just sleeping.”

You noticed the way her lips curled with her last sentence, knowing that she was trying to tell a joke. You offer her a smile in return. With your consistent failures of bringing back the patch of dead forest, you felt defeated. You allowed yourself to fall back against the cushy ground of the living and dead plant matter, staring up into the canopy of the cedars above you, hoping one of them could just reach out from the otherside to tell you what to do.

Larissa bit her lip. You were lucky she loved you so much. She moved to lay next to you, staring up into the canopy. Her hand came to grasp yours, pulling it up to her lips to scatter kisses across the back of your hand.

“What am I going to do? Even if the forest is growing back, how am I supposed to know what was killing it in the first place?” You ignored her lips on your skin, opting to stress about the situation instead.

“When did it start dying?” Larissa asked, hoping to help you troubleshoot the issue.

“Rowan’s friend noticed the death right after Rowan left… It was growing back when Rowan finally told us about it…” You felt like throwing a tantrum on the forest floor. With all of your plant knowledge and abilities, how could you be so confused about the cause of this issue?

“That was the entire time we were apart.”

“Larissa… How could a forest be affected by our issues from over 3000 miles away?”

“How could an evil pilgrim rise from the grave and drain the energy of the forest in one night? How did you die and rise from the dead days later?” She posed fair questions, but you seriously doubted that the ‘power of love’ was controlling the forest. That sounded entirely preposterous.

Link to Chapter 23

#larissa weems x oc #larissa weems #fern rogers #ferissa #stately sequoia #the cedars have eyes #violet and rose #gwendoline christie #wednesday netflix #fanfic #principal larissa weems #principal weems

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password-door-lock · 7 months

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Mystictober Day 13-- Leaves

“This is so exciting,” you gush, tearing the sticky label off of your brand-new rake. You take a moment to appreciate the sharpness and the straightness of the tines— they won't stay that way for long, if experience serves you. “Our first fall together! And we have our very own yard to rake!” It's a strange milestone, but as far as you're concerned, it's a milestone all the same.

Saeran grins at you, endeared. “I'm looking forward to it,” he assures you. “Though it's going to be new for me.”

You shrug. “It's really not that difficult,” you announce, “At least, not from what I remember… I’m pretty rusty, too. I haven’t had to do this since high school.” You’ve been living in the middle of the city for a while, and though you’ve gotten very good at sweeping the balconies of various apartments, you haven’t had to seriously worry about leaves for quite some time now. “But I did learn to rake leaves in elementary school, so maybe it’s one of those skills that sticks with you, like riding a bike.”

“You were doing chores like this when you were that young?” Saeran asks, surveying the yard. It's not too bad— the big tree near the garden has just started to drop its first leaves, but you figure that if the two of you make a day of it, going out and collecting all the leaves every week or so, the task won't become too big.

“I mean, I was trying,” you shrug, “I wasn't very good at it, but I had a lot of fun raking them into little piles and jumping in— we could do that, too, if you want, but there might not be enough leaves yet, so we’d have to wait until the tree really gets going.”

“That does sound like fun, darling,” Saeran admits, giving your hand a small squeeze before returning his attention to the yard. “How should we start?”

To be honest, with all of his gardening experience, you were surprised when Saeran first told you that he'd never raked leaves before, but the more you thought about it, the more sense it made— as Ray, he was allowed to tend the gardens at Magenta, but there were other believers officially assigned to the task, and the grounds there were so sprawling that Rika likely would have considered it counterintuitive to have him spend so much time away from his computer when someone with fewer responsibilities could easily have done it. Of course, even if you didn't understand, you wouldn't say anything about it to Saeran— your general philosophy is that he can tell you what he wants to when he wants to, and that can be that. It’s his decision what he wants to share with you or keep to himself about his time at Magenta, and you won’t press him for any more than that.

“Well, what I like to do is to rake one horizontal line— maybe up by the flower beds?— and then do vertical lines the length of the yard to finish it up. Then we'll have a long pile of leaves that we can just rake onto a tarp or into garbage bags to add to the compost heap— after we jump in them, of course.” You use hand gestures to aid your explanation, which would probably be a bit confusing without them.

Saeran nods; he seems to understand regardless of your erratic explanation style. “Of course, my love. Let's do that.” With the two of you working, it doesn't take too long to clear the yard of leaves at all. Perhaps your childhood memories of entire afternoons spent cleaning up leaves were slightly exaggerated in the depths of your mind— or perhaps you've just grown a lot since then. Maybe it's the fact that you have help— regardless, you're happy that you can share this moment with Saeran.

Once all the leaves are piled up, you take the liberty of flopping into them with a thud. “Okay, you know what, honey? That wasn’t as fun as I remember it being.” You’re laying on your back amid the leaf pile, which is really more of a leaf area— there aren’t quite enough leaves yet for a proper pile.

Saeran, who apparently has much more common sense than you do, lowers himself down into the leaves by your side at a much more controlled rate. Consequently, there is much less thudding involved. “I had fun,” he assures you, “Since I got to spend time with you.”

“Spending time together is always nice,” you agree, staring up at the clouds. You don’t need Saeran to tell you that he’s also cloud gazing— you can just tell. “Even if we’re doing chores.”

“Mhm,” he agrees. “No matter what we’re doing, I’m happy to be by your side.”

You reach over to squeeze his hand, though your train of thought is quickly derailed by a passing cloud. “That one kind of looks like a mug, doesn’t it?” You point with your free hand.

Saeran examines the cloud in question. “It’s more like an elephant,” he decides.

“An elephant?” You can’t help but laugh. “No, there’s the cup part,” you trace the outline in the air, “And there’s the handle.”

“That’s the trunk, my love,” Saeran argues good-naturedly, “It’s clearly an elephant.”

“No, babe, it’s obviously a mug,” you retort, “It’s making me want hot chocolate.”

“Hm,” Saeran considers the cloud once more, “It still looks like an elephant, but I won’t complain about hot chocolate.”

“We probably have to get up, then,” you groan, rising so that you’re propped up on your elbows. “Would you rather hold the tarp or rake the leaves onto it?”

“I’m fine with either, darling,” he assures you, “I’ll be thinking about hot chocolate the whole time.”

“Alright, whatever you say.” You grin. You’re probably going to be thinking about hot chocolate, too.

#Fun fact in the original draft I referred to the tines as “the pokey bits at the end of the rake”#And tbh I almost left it like that because I didn't know they had a name #But when I was going through my normal editing process and looking up the definitions of common words that I use regularly #I thought why not look up “the pokey bits at the end of the rake” so here we are #mystic messenger #mystic messenger drabble #MM_mystictober2023

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vldsideblog · 1 year

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Ok so here’s part of the desert days fic I’m working on, just some silly stuff I couldn’t wait to show you guys.

The Lizard that lived under his porch kept sunning himself in Keith’s brooding spot. Keith would argue that he wasn’t brooding, there just wasn’t a lot to do when it was boiling hot and dangerous to stay in the sun for long. But he could almost hear Matt in his head telling him he was moping, a memory replaying vividly.

(“Shiro, he's moping again!” Matt stood at the foot of the garage, craning his neck to see Keith sitting on the roof of the one story structure.

Soon after moving in with Shiro and Adam he discovered that his new bedroom window opened up to the small slanted garage roof. The perfect spot to stargaze and enjoy the stunning Texan sunsets.

Keith uncurled from his position sitting with his back pressed against the wood paneled wall, shuffling closer to the edge so he could get a better look at the lanky brunette teenager waving up at him.

“M’not moping, i'm just sitting here.” Keith defended himself, knowing full well he had been up here for an hour thinking about ways to get revenge on Iverson for taking his headphones. (Even though he literally had school enforced accommodations meaning he could wear them if he wasn’t listening to music). So yeah, he was moping.

“Nope,” Matt said in his big brother voice. “You’re definitely brooding up there. What was it this time?”

Shiro, who had at this point joined them, was looking up at his younger brother with a look of concern, and nodded along to Matt’s question.

“Iverson took my fucking headphones during class today, and I almost had a meltdown.” Keith yelled down at them, his legs now dangling from the roof, swinging back and forth with gusto.

Shiro frowned, “But you have accommodations? He can’t do that.”

Matt turned to look at his best friend with an eyebrow raised. “You think that’s ever stopped Iverson? One time he confiscated my fidget cube during a physics test.” He continued, “I did steal it back that night though, I left him a little present as a thank you.” Matt brandished an impish grin, his braces glinting in the glow of the streetlights.

Keith looked at him with barely concealed awe while Shiro winced. “What did you do?” They said in unison.

“Well I decided that I was tired of Iverson being a dick, so I snuck into the cafeteria that night and filled up part of a trash bag with shit from the compost container.”

Matt began gesturing wildly as he told his tale. “So I hacked into the security cameras and picked his office lock. Then I freed all the contraband and filled his drawer with trash.”

Keith giggled down at him, while Shiro tried to stifle his laughter.

“Wait, what did you do with all the extra stuff?” Keith asked, tilting his head slightly to the left as he always did when asking a question.

“Well at the time I was saving up for my bagpipes,” -Keith and Shiro shuddered at the mention of Matt’s godawful bagpipes.- “So I sold everything back their things.” Matt finished his story with a devilish smile, completely without pity for his poor classmates that had to buy their own stuff back from him.

Shiro pinched the bridge of his nose and thought deeply about the mistakes he must have made in life for Matt to be his best friend, while Keith looked at Matt like he was Mothman himself.

“Holy shit,” Keith howled in laughter, barely able to keep himself from falling off the roof while he clutched at his stomach. “You have got to teach me how to pull something like that off.”

Shiro looked pleadingly at his friend, eyes begging him to not teach his already chaotic brother how to hack into military grade security cameras. Matt thankfully took some pity on him. “I’ll help you pull off whatever revenge plot you’ve got cooking up on your head”

Keith whooped and punched a leather clad fist in the air.

“But you have to tell me before you do these things so I can make sure it’s a reasonable idea. And I won’t teach you how to hack into cameras.”

Keith boo-ed him from the roof, but his smile told Matt that he was still grateful.

Shiro was only partially relieved knowing that Matt would be watching Keith’s back while he made Iverson’s life a living hell).

The memory made Keith smile, even as his heart stung. He looked down at the lizard sitting happily in the sun at the foot of the old porch. He was a funny looking little guy, about the size of his palm and covered in sand colored spikes, and darker stripes. The wild crown of barbs on his head reminded Keith of Matt.

After that day he started thinking of the lizard as Matt, they might as well be friends if they were neighbors anyway.

Keith decided he could share his new favorite brooding spot.

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wolfalder · 6 months

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Just as a heads up - when you buy fur from any sort of 'ranched' animal, that is (pretty much) always going to be from an animal that was deliberately farmed and killed for its fur. Cases of death by old age or illness are extremely rare when it comes to buying pelts or tails or other parts - when they do happen, the seller will always say it directly in the posted item's sale description or will state in their store description that all of their materials come from animals that were not killed specifically for their fur.

There are no furbearing animals that are ranched that are also consumed by humans except for rabbits, and they aren't used in food for other animals either (with very few exceptions, typically homesteaders feeding carcasses to pigs and using the pigs for their own personal consumption). Carcasses are composted with manure and used as fertilizer.

By the logic you’ve given here, you should have absolutely no issues with farmed animals (and I’m sure you probably own a few pieces from non-’natural’ death farmed animals as well), so long as they are treated well, given the appropriate care, are provided with enrichment, and are killed swiftly and humanely/without pain. There are many, many fur farms like this, and there are many people committed to sourcing their farmed furs from these places - including all of the sellers you added to your response to my original ask. I say all of this because from your original post, you would be saying that the places you yourself listed in your response are not ethical places to buy pelts from. These places do not specifically source their ranched items from animals that died of natural causes or illness, and therefore are selling pelts and parts from animals that were in fact farmed and killed specifically for their fur. As I said, carcasses are composted at most fur farms, so there still is no waste, but carcasses are not being used for food (with the one exception I mentioned, as well as fat from mink being used to create mink oil which can be used to soften/condition leather).

There absolutely are unethical fur farms where animals are treated horribly and where the carcasses are left to rot or sent to landfills. These farms are in fact where almost all tails and fur items from Amazon come from, and you are absolutely right to say that people shouldn’t buy from Amazon. These fur farms are in places where animal protection laws are in fact non-existent, such as China. But there are plenty of other fur farms that absolutely would fit your description of ethical fur. I want to make absolutely sure that you are aware that if you own pieces from ranched animals - unless the listing specifically stated that it was natural death or illness - those pieces do in fact come from animals that were killed specifically for their fur. Also I wanna make it super clear that I’m not like. Mad or anything, I’m just trying to be educational and make sure that you understand where your original post went wrong!

~Signed, a fellow therian with a major special interest in fur/taxidermy/vulture culture who has friends in the industry and who has been part of the industry '^^

I always appreciate correction. I did not mean to imply that I am against fur farms in my original post. I have no issue with the killing of animals if their is no waste which I’m aware that with some fur farms the carcasses are used. I tried to mention that in my later reply to someone that some mink farms have a great way to recycle the “leftovers”. I realize it sounded like I wasn’t aware of these things but I just mean to say I’m against tails sold on Amazon from fur farms in china or other countries with less strict regulation.

“Farmed minks manure, soiled straw bedding and carcasses are composted to produce organic fertilizers, to enrich the soil and produce more food, completing the agricultural nutrient cycle. Biofuels made from mink remains now power buses in Aarhus, Denmark, the world’s largest producer of farmed mink. Similar projects are being tested in North America.” Here’s a part of my original reply where I talk a bit about fur farms.

Sorry again that my original post seems as though I’m totally against fur farms. And thank you again for further explanation! I will always take the chance to learn and to spread helpful information to others so I really appreciate you checking me on what I was saying being someone who knows a lot about these topics!

I also do own 3 pelts that were farmed ethically.

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ranger-rai · 1 year

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Can you bury leaves from a grass-type move to enrich soil for berry trees? Leafage, Magical Leaf, etc... I’m trying to establish some tress and make sure the berries are really rich in vitamins. Might even try selling them.

Long answer short: Kinda?

Basically those attacks are embedded with energy from the pokemon.

If a move like Bullet Seed is used, the seeds won't grow anything, but let's say you had your pokemon put some seeds in their mouth and then used it, it's like a faster way to plant seeds.

Let's pretend that your grass type, say a Bulbasaur, is a battery.

When using a move like Razor Leaf, it's producing those leaves from their body make up, with some pokemon producing the materials naturally and more frequently.

Bulbasaur naturally produces heavy spores, seeds, and some leaves, especially as it evolves.

Because of this, you could technically harvest their materials but their properties won't be that much different than leaves from poisonous plants or other plants of the same type.

Now let's say you have a Grass type like Treeco.

This pokemon doesn't have much naturally growing foliage on its body, even as it evolves, with the exception being its tail.

Moves like Razor Leaf aren't too abundant so it's body might "super charge" the leaves to make up for its lack of leaves, or it learns a move like "Leaf Blade" to compensate.

So the plants that come off of pokemon are sometimes embedded with some extra energy, but it putters out pretty quickly.

Magical Leaf is similar, but the energy lasts a little longer, but the most this does is helps plants take to soil faster, think of it energizing the nutrients of the dirt.

While this technique could be used to help things grow in a pinch, you're better off just using much made from egg shells, compost and such or having a pokemon use status moves like "Growth, Ingrain and healing plants with Synthesis" to help stimulate growth.

Attack type moves and their remnants don't do as much.

What works better is when you can trim off leftover bits like Chestnauts shield trimmings, Serperior's overgrown collar, And especially Torterra's pruned branches.

Turn those into mulch, and you will get better results.

#ranger rai #pokemon ranger #the ranger base #pokemon #ask me anything #ask me a question #sinnoh #grass type pokemon #pokemon and plants #dont have your pokemon attack the ground #pokemon gardening

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paperw0rmz · 14 days

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hello, can you talk about ur experience living off grid? i know at least in america it takes 1 million fucking permits to build ur own structure, is that actually enforced? off grid and building my own place is the dream when i can afford land but the more i learn the more expensive it seems and i am poor):

Oh shit this is gonna be a long as fuck post so if you want to read about what it’s like being off grid as a POC/Queer/Disabled person continue on reading.

Some things you need to know before hand:

I literally lucked out, I just so happened to start dating a man who grew up doing this and whose family had bought land when it was “cheap” (it was cheap considering what land cost especially back then (like 30 or 20 odd some years ago I think?) but it was still a lot of money) that graciously let me also live here.

I also have NEVER fucking lived anywhere that wasn’t the hood or like a town before, so I’m used to the city.

I also moved here because it was a manic decision but also because I quit literally had no other safe option to be living anywhere else.

My boyfriend is probably way better at explaining and talking about this, so I will make a follow up post when he is awake and will ask for clarification on years and numbers and shit.

I don’t live as off grid as others (yet)

WHAT IS OFF GRID?

Living off grid is literally just a short way of saying “good fucking luck! :)” you don’t have septic usually, your water comes from a well, you don’t even have garbage people you have to hire your own dumpster crew, there MIGHT be plows of it snows but if not you’re the one that does it, mail will come but if they can find your mailbox. Usually people mean off grid like hours and hours in the forest with no technology what so ever, I still have electricity (sometimes) and the nearest Walmart is still about a half an hour away from me (thank fucking god) however anytime we drive there we lose connection and any smart phone just says SOS because it just does not know where the fuck you are.

MY EXPERIENCE:

I moved into the woods about two years ago now and when I first got here I lived in a tent and car as we were building our first home. It was a tiny house (10x10) that was originally just supposed to be for my boyfriend to live in, but he met me and brought me along so we both had to make due in this very very very tiny home for the first year and a half-ish.

We live in the mountains ontop of living in the woods, so the snow here can be insane. I remember losing power for the first time and it being a little scary, but because our house was so small and my boyfriend is a bear, a small heater (propane) easily kept us warm, and I even slept on the floor sometimes (which was not insulated and very cold) (I like floor time) and still kept warm.

The 10x10 though started to drive us insane, because we didn’t have really any space and we are both creatives so during one winter we decided to build an A frame which is fuckin like 10 X 20??? And it’s like right next to the tiny house. Still tiny but like, we currently have a full sized bed, a big as shit couch, a recliner, a coffee table, a fridge, two desks (and two chairs) and a dresser in here and it’s still open.

We are now turning the tiny house into the office and our A frame is where we live currently :3

WHERE DO YOU SHIT?

Outhouse!!! (At first) As someone with IBS I am in love with our houses, I don’t have to worry about clogging and stains <333

Now my bf and his family are building a bath house (a building that has two bathrooms and a washer and dryer) and we are getting septic.

Before that though we also had a compost toilet closet and attached to the outside of our tiny house which was really nice in the winter because I didn’t have to walk longer in the snow to go shit. It unfortunately has broken but is easy to fix. Just a hassle to get out. I do NOT recommend compost toilets if you have more than two people. It just won’t work.

WHERE DO YOU SHOWER?

There is what I call the Maine House ( a house my mother in law built with her student housing funding because she’s just gangster like that ) which is one of the first houses she and her husband built for them and their kids because their old home ( a trailer ) just wasn’t big enough for them. That has running water (from the well) and therefore a shower/bath and sink. I’d just walk less than a minute over to do so.

WHERE DO YOU COOK FOOD?

The Maine house also has a kitchen, but we also plan to build a building ONLY for cooking/eating as well. I also have a wood stove that I’m setting up in between our tiny house and A frame.

WHAT DO YOU DO TO MAKE MONEY?

Porn lol

I also do vending stuff, my bf is part of a union! :D we both want to open a cleaning company though that specializes in hoarding and organizing.

DO YOU GET BORED?

Sometimes? Only when there’s four feet of snow outside. Once it’s all gone I love to go on walks, right now I’ve been training our chickens and rooster to come over to an area near us where there’s tall grass and putting food there, so they think food will always be there, so when it gets warmer they eat ticks. I also have an emergency craft/stim box that has little craft kits I get for cheap along with fidget toys and shit.

I’m also just a creative person, I love journaling, painting, sewing, crochet, all that shit.

Catching frogs and other animals is also fun.

Im mainly just playing webkinz tho these days and watching the muppets bc autism has me on a chokehold rn.

Sex and drugs are also very fun!!! :D

HOW IS IT BEING POC/QUEER/DISABLED AND LIVING OFF GRID?

Scary, I won’t lie to you. I fear every day that my disability will cripple me more and that I would need a wheelchair. It’s also amazing though, I never realized how over stimulating the city was for me and how much anger it caused me. Like yes, my schizoid anti social personality might be being enabled, but I also feel like I’m finally genuine with people I come across and befriend. I’m not making false friendships just because I have to and that it’s the societal norm. I’m making friends because they also like things I like which I know sounds silly but is a crazy realization for someone who was delusional 24/7 for 23 years of their life. Im also scared anytime we have to have like a crew of guys (electrical people or like septic people) come over too, because they are usually white cis men and as a POC and obviously Queer person it’s daunting to be seen by them, but I haven’t had any issue personally anytime they come onto our land. I HAVE had issues in town (more like two towns over) with people being racist and phobic to me, but I have a strong personality so I deflect that shit easily.

My boyfriend is also extremely perfect in every way and helps me out a lot, I don’t think I could ever list everything he has done to make sure I’m safe and feel protected. Like I happily go out in skimpy clothes to predominantly white areas when I’m with him because I feel so safe with him.

Thankfully again my mother in law is a doctor and my sister who I call and text is a psychiatrist so those two also help me a bunch.

WHAT ABOUT PERMITS?

I can NAWT help you there I’m sorry, I will ask my bf again in the morning, but I know the building permit here starts at like $10? And for our tiny house and A frame it was like $25 each? I think? I forget what numbers exactly. It obviously gets more expensive the bigger you build, but like that’s what I could remember from conversations.

Idk where you live, assuming it’s in the US, but yeah it is mandatory you get a permit, but like….if you disappear and just venture out into the woods literally no one is going to stop you. Like genuinely most people do it that way. I’m not saying do it, but like I can’t tell you what to do also.

WHAT I RECOMMEND:

Pull a Christopher McCandless

Live in a trailer park for a while to get used to tiny space and also to learn how to take care of your home. It is VERY different than renting a house or apartment.

Find some dude on tinder who just so happened to have a family that owns a shit ton of land

TLDR:

Off grid is hard especially if you’re a minority and you will learn if you can mentally handle it or not really quick. You have to know how to entertain yourself and be okay with things and let shit go. You need to trust people because you can’t do this on your own. You can easily do this, most people can. But only if you work together.

(Communism bf ruined me I’m an anarchist I swear)

Any other questions that I may have not answered feel free to ask. I really don’t know much but I’ll try to help out.

#anon #ask #off grid #txt #txt post #long as shit post

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interstellargatorskinboots1812 · 2 years

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TAPPED INTO YOUR MIND & SOUL CHAPTER 12

Sorry for the long wait for this chapter- hope i haven’t lost all my lovely readers!! As ever, please can you reblog, like and most importantly comment with what you think. A fanfic writer asks for no other currency than a comment!

Have You No Idea That You’re in Deep?

Alfie concentrates on the charring embers behind her pupils. The blonde waves of hair loosening from one too many rakes from her fingers. She is a tempest: hasty; commanding; violent; annihilating and in his eyes, utterly magnificent. However, at this point, she is a problem.

‘It’s under control treacle, nothing for you to know about.

Her nostrils flare as she pushes up on her toes, meeting him eye to eye.

‘You know Alfie, I’m not without influence here’.

‘I imagine not.’

‘No need to imagine, take my word for it. I can help to continue to grow your empire and win your wars or tip the balance of favour out of your reach. Consider that when making decisions to freeze me out. A marriage should be built on trust.’

‘Trust, yeh? Trust is a very interesting concept, innit?’

Alfie studies her with cold composure. A strange light in his eyes that Arabella saw fleetingly the day she arrived and asked about that damn letter. It sends a shiver down her spine.

He clasps her chin softly yet firmly between his thumb and index finger.

‘You know, I always thought that you’d be the meek cow to your brother’s raging bull. But now- now I see fuckin’ clearly that it is you that wears that great big gold ring in your nose. See, each day that goes by right, I see things in you that I need to put up ere.’

Releasing her, he gestures to his head with one thick finger.

‘I do, I just keep a log up here in my ledger that counts your good against your bad. Marriage you see, is all about the balance of good verses bad.’

He cricks his neck to the side.

‘What are you willing to turn a blind eye to that in any other human would see you turn a trigger finger to? Taking that into account, my beloved fiance, I will let you in on the things you need to know about my business when I feel you are balanced in my ledger.’

‘Screw your ledger, Alfie. You either learn to trust me and fast or all of this farce is a waste of our time. You need to realise that I am not my brother.’

‘Well that you see, that is what scares me more than anything’.

A contradiction of thoughts urge their way through her - he sees her so precisely, more than anyone has ever done so. It is a worry and a relief all at once and with a piercing look and his frozen composure, she knows that Alfie is all too aware of the accuracy in his observations.

The sound of metal hitting glass interrupts their silence. On the stage behind them, a stunted and stout gentleman exhibiting a viscid black beard , holds himself proudly as he taps his champagne glass.

‘Right then, what’s it going to be Bella? Am I to introduce you as my wife-to-be or as the sister of a bookmaker I know from Birmingham?’

‘You fucking bastard, Solomons!’

Alfie scratches at his nose. Calm and implacable.

‘You see the thing is treacle, you are like me in more respects than you would care to admit.’

His mouth lingers close to her ear, drowning out the rehearsed words of the gentleman in front of them.

‘You gotta ask yourself this, right. Imagine your much coveted rose garden, the one you dreamt of owning when you was a kid. Imagine right that it’s yours. You grew it all by yourself, planted the seeds, tended to it and watered it to fruition. You going to just let me in it to roam free and piss on the compost, be-head the flowers and leave with a pocket full to sell at the market? Course you wouldn’t. You’d study me long enough to check out my gardening credentials first.’

Arabella meets his eyes pointedly, her face contorts briefly in rage before his words settle, stinging like lemon in a paper cut.

‘You remember my rose garden?’

‘Course I do- got it stored in that ledger of mine’.

With a coy smirk, his attention turns back to the stage.

The realisation of his accuracy settles in. Stubbornness has always been a strong suit in her armour, no words will ever come from her mouth to confirm to Alfie he is right, instead she steps in closer to his side and holds on to his arm, telling him all that he needs to know as she leans into him with the whisper of a subject change.

‘Who is he?’

‘That is Bernard Litvinoff- a right greedy fat fuck but never when it comes to money. He’s the chief of the Jewish Board of Guardians.’

Arabella watches as Bernard steals glances towards Alfie, with a slight smirk emerging between the whiskers of his moustache.

‘He certainly seems to hold you in high esteem- he’s practically talking like there is only you in the room’.

‘So he bloody should given my substantial donations’.

Arabella feels her lips automatically curl up as she glances up at him, like a flower opening in spring.

‘Those donations are more than just a cleanse of your image though, I’ve seen the amount you give each month when I looked over the accounts. This means a lot to you doesn’t it?’

Alfie’s brow lowers, his trademark v shape appearing between his eyebrows.

‘I have that written down in my ledger. You see Alfie, you are right- we are both more alike than we care to admit.’

The bodies around them become a blur as his blue eyes bore into her own.

‘So without further ado, I present to you one of our most valued patrons, Mr Alfred Solomons.’

Applause fragments the room drawing them both back . Alfie clears his throat and walks with a confident gait to the stage. The plaudits seemingly getting louder with each step he takes. He silences the crowd with a small wave of his hand.

‘Now then everyone- calm down. Right well, for those of you who don’t know, I am Alfie Solomons chairman of the Aerated Bread Company of Bonny Street, Camden Town. My mother, God rest her soul, came her to the East End of London before my arrival, persecuted as she was by the Russian’s.’

A quick glance around the room affirms the shared understanding of the small gathering as they listen intently.

‘Came to London as a stem without a root- not a penny to her name. Nothing but a weed in the gutter. It was you people who gave her hope, who tended to her and gave her a job and a livelihood. Being of an oppressed race and religion, it’s important we stick together and part of that sticking together is to give back. Those of us who are blessed with the gift of money should make sure we give a percentage of it back to those in need and provide a rung of opportunity on the ladder of hope.’

The room eating out of his palm and just as she said, Nelly Goldman stands at the front prompting applause by clapping the loudest and setting of chain reaction of appreciation.

‘Now, my dear old mother was a woman made of strong substance- in fact she was a diamond built from pressure. Many of you knew her well and know just how much this charity meant to her, so it is an honour for me to be able to give donations to such a good cause and implore you all to do the same, or else you will find a very angry baker knocking at your door.’

The guests laugh as Arabella pulls an eyebrow, not entirely sure he meant that last sentence as a joke.

‘Now, as we are amongst friends here tonight, I thought it apt to be able to share with you all some news.’

Arabella’s throat almost threatening to close over. Sweat begins to form on her forehead as she nervously strokes the soft velvet of her dress.

Alfie’s colbalt eyes find hers in the crowd.

‘Now I want you all to know just what a lucky man I am. Not only did I have the good fortune to have a diamond for a Mother, but it seems I am lucky enough to have found another rare gem. A woman who’s intelligence never fails to astound. I would like to introduce you all to Miss Arabella Shelby, who has graciously agreed to marry this old ogre’.

An array of audible gasps fill the atmosphere.

‘Come on then, don’t leave me standing up ‘ere by myself’.

Alfie holds out his hand towards where she stands. Still with her eyes flickering around the shocked faces.

The room is deafly silent as she stands in front of them all. A quiet that is deafening. She strains her ears, searching for the slightest sound as if to prove her existence in the moment as sets of eyes look her up and down.

An enthusiastic clapping shatters the silence like a pane of glass.

Thank God for Mrs Goldman.

Like a domino set, her applause catches on and the patrons below them evolve into new levels of acceptance for their announcement.

‘Thank you, thank you’. Alfie once again holds up her hand to quieten them.

‘Now, I happen to be living the dream at the moment and that is thanks to Ms Shelby here, who’s beauty has me wanting to do the most bold and reckless things, but who’s alluring modesty and intelligent personality reign me back in again. There you have it – the perfect balance’.

The tiny catch in his voice at the end of the sentence conveys the depth of his words.

‘And testament to just how amazing this woman is, she is going to make a conversion to our way of life and so I hope that all of you in this room will help support my beloved fiance in whatever way you can.’

Bernard Litvinoff, who has been stood listening to the side with his mouth fixed open, waltzes between them before clapping his hands together, making tiny rolls of fat wash through his skin like waves.

‘Mr Solomons, what a surprise! Such wonderful news and I’m sure our fellow patrons share my sentiments when I say congratulations. Unexpected news, but wonderful and we welcome you Ms Shelby to our family.’

Without warning Bernard grabs Arabella’s shoulders pulling her into an embrace. She suppresses a gag when the smell of stale sweat hits her. Alfie smirks at the displeasure lining her expression.

‘Now with this exciting news I think it calls for a brief interlude before we attend to our charity auctioning.’

Arabella steps forward before the bodies below scatter. She clears her throat.

‘And to help us celebrate our wonderful news. . .’

Arabella grabs hold of Alfie’s hand as he looks at her quizzically with one eye brow raised.

‘We would like you all to enjoy a glass of champagne on us’.

Alfie’s temper springs to life as his eyes shoot up, he clears his throat to keep his frustration in check as the guests gasp excitedly and head to the bar. He leans into her ear.

‘You’ll pay for that, treacle’.

‘No darling, I think you find you’ll be paying. I need all the help I can get to win this tough crowd over’.

With a sickeningly sweet smile, Arabella turns and walks from the stage, Alfie following swiftly behind, her hand still in his as she leads ahead.

‘My dear boy, if you ask me I would say you know how to keep secrets better than God himself’.

Alfie’s steps falter at the hoarse and throaty voice, making Arabella turn immediately to see who was causing Solomons to almost trip over his own boots. Her gaze fixes on a well-dressed gentleman, who’s playful smile radiates him in mischief. His wispy and unruly grey hair lead to his untamed and abundant beard that covers most of his face, leaving only his round golden glasses poking free.

Alfie’s darkening eyes drag themselves up and down him, a discernable tension filling the space.

‘I ain’t asking you though am I?’

Alfie’s lips curl above a tight jaw as the elderly man raises his left eyebrow. Just as Arabella feels the need to reach for the knife concealed on her thigh, both men release guttural laughs, the man grasping at Alfie’s shoulders and lightly shaking before placing a kiss to both of his cheeks, forcing her eyes to roll.

‘Oh my boy, how I have missed you!’

‘Yeh well there’s a very good reason for that isn’t there? Swanning off to Boston for far too long and leavin’ me ‘ere to man the fort’.

‘Well, I don’t know about that, for it seems you have been getting help with things’.

The man turns his bright brown eyes to Arabella, a smile threatening to puncture both of his cheeks. He reaches his arm out in gesture and she finds herself instantly at ease, giving him her hand which he swiftly raises to his lips and places a kiss.

‘Miss Arabella Shelby, what a pleasure to finally meet you. I’m Rubin Schmier’.

‘Nice to meet you too- so how are you and my fiance acquainted then?’

‘Ah, I see he talks about me often then, eh?’

Rubin tuts and raises another eyebrow in Alfie’s direction.

‘Mind you, with a beauty such as yourself to gaze upon each day, I am sure my boy here is lost for words’.

‘Alfie, lost for words? I don’t think that possible. In fact I’m starting to think he has descended from a parrot’.

Alfie shakes his head as Rubin breaks into laughter.

‘My what a fire cracker you have here, Alfie. Are you sure you want to marry this baboon, Arabella?’

‘For my sins, yes I am quite sure.’

She looks up to Alfie, with a smile that extends up to her eyes.

‘Rubin here is my Kvater, as I was telling you about earlier tonight’.

‘Ah yes, nice to be able to put a face to a name. It certainly has been like Piccadilly Circus for you tonight, Alfie with all of the comings and goings of your friends and family’.

Alfie would be but a fool to not pick up the stab in her words. She hasn’t forgotten about Ollie’s appearance tonight and neither, for that matter, had he. The sweat staining his crisp white shirt is testament to that.

A clearing of a throat has them all turning round to face a rather coy looking Mrs Goldman.

‘Fine speech, Alfred. You always did have a way with words’.

‘Unfortunately a lot of them are usually four letters long and end in uck’.

Rubin smirks at his own joke as Nelly laughs all to exaggeratedly at him.

‘Oh Rubin, I did not know you were back. What a lovely surprise’.

Nelly fiddles with a strand of hair that falls from her up-do. Suddenly the older woman’s done up appearance makes sense to Arabella.

‘Why Nelly I could not bear to be away from you a moment longer- now when are you going to invite me round for tea, eh?’

‘Oh Rubin Schmier you wicked man!’

Nelly swots at Rubin’s red velvet dinner jacket and giggles as she twiddles with her necklace, a pink hue adorning her cheeks.

‘Now then Ms Shelby, I demand you tell me how you managed to tie down this illustrious devil- many have tried and failed you know. . . speaking of which…’

Rubin lowers his voice as the sound of heels thrash against the marble. Martha’s eyes burn like the remaining ash in a dying bonfire as she disregards all but Alfie, standing in front of him like a Sergeant Major. Arabella grins, She takes a glass from a passing waiter’s tray and sips slowly. She is going to enjoy this.

‘Alfie, may I have a word please’.

‘Yeh well not now Martha, I’m busy.’

Martha’s face closes- her deep brown eyes boring in to him as he looks at her with a nonchalant expression.

‘Well I am afraid this is urgent Alf, I need to speak with you now’.

‘Well, he just said he’s busy didn’t he?’

Arabella ‘s tone is cut as she watches her surreptitiously, smiling slightly as she sees her blanch.

‘Alfie, are you going to let her talk to me in that tone?’

Martha places a hand to her chest, acting like a spoilt and needy princess.

‘Well now, my fiance is her own person, she can talk to you however she feels fit’.

In that moment, Arabella feels like she could kiss the face off him for the scowl his words have plastered on Martha’s face.

Martha turns to face Arabella, frowning in concentration she takes a deep breath.

‘Just who do you think you are, eh? You know you won’t be just accepted here don’t you?’

Nelly lets out a gasp and tuts. Alfie’s rage grips him like a vice, as he makes his way forward to grab Martha, Rubin steps into the space, taking his niece gently by the arm.

‘Martha, my sweet girl- you have a little something just there on your…’

Rubin gestures with his finger around his thick moustache as Martha screws up her eyes and rubs at her face where her uncle is indicating.

‘It’s just, here and . . .oh.. it’s here as well… Martha my dear it is all over you- best you go and find a mirror and freshen up’.

Martha breathes heavily and bangs her heeled foot on the floor.

‘This conversation is not over’.

She strides away fiercely on her way to the bathroom as Nelly, Arabella and Alfie stare back at Rubin- their faces painted with confusion.

‘Well now imagine her surprise when she finds that mirror and realises that her face is full of nothing but jealousy, hmm?’

‘I think I really like you Rubin’.

‘Well that is good to know Ms Shelby as very soon we shall be family’.

A warmth fills Arabella’s chest as she looks between Rubin and Nelly. At least she has some forces of good on her side in this room.

‘Now my dear, didn’t I tell you that you had nothing to worry about, eh?’ Nelly places a firm hand around Arabella’s bare shoulders.

‘Alfie here knows not to sell the sun to buy a candle. Isn’t that right, Alfred?’

‘So I am told, Nelly, yes’.

Nelly raises her silvery eyes to Arabella’s.

‘Come now Miss Shelby and let me introduce you to some of my friends- I just know they will love you.’

As Nelly steers Arabella away to a crowd of silver haired women, Rubin moves in closer to Alfie and pats him on the back sharply.

‘A striking woman you have chosen, Alfie. Ms Shelby has fire in her veins and a smile made for war. A rather utopian match for you.’

‘Yeh?’

‘Most certainly. Although, I am surprised that you have finally chosen to settle down after all this time.’

‘Well like you said, Arabella is perfect for me’.

Alfie steals a glance in her direction, watching her intently as she laughs and charms Nelly’s associates.

‘And can she be trusted? Her name hasn’t escaped my senile brain you know.’

Alfie grimaces, his eyes still on her.

‘If I thought she had no intention but to steal, cheat or de-sanctify all that I hold as holy then she wouldn’t be wearing that ring now, would she?’

Rubin nods is head but Alfie senses he finds his words to be hollow.

‘And what of her brothers, hm? Didn’t you tell me what animals they are, how have they taken to the news?’

‘Well, there was a lot of violence at first, yeh on the count of them being utter cunts. But they’re adjusting to the idea. Besides, a match with Arabella isn’t exactly bad for business, means we have a more solid partnership where the gypsies are concerned.’

Rubin smiles to himself and ruefully rests his head on the pillar behind him.

‘Ah well then my boy, I am very happy for you. Of course, at first I did sense this alliance may be for business purposes only but I see how you look at her and I see she holds all the good cards in the deck, so of course if it were for business you’d be in big trouble because no one acts more foolishly than a wise man in love’.

Leaving Alfie to stew in his words, Rubin waltzes away flamboyantly to join the women.

A short while later, Arabella finds herself relaxing, laughing and smiling along to Rubin’s exaggerated tales and Nelly’s flirtatious giggling. She looks to Alfie who stands behind her, silently with his eyes staring, taking him off elsewhere. His shoulders bow down toward the ground as if marred by a great weight, as he senses Arabella’s gaze, she notes how he pulls himself erect and she grabs his hand to give a gentle squeeze before she has time to think about what she is doing.

‘Tell me what’s wrong and I just might be able to help’.

Alfie hears the sincerity in her whispered voice, this wasn’t just her changing tact to illicit information. But still, his secrets were his own.

‘I told you before, it’s nothing’.

Arabella releases a heavy breath and stares back at Rubin although she no longer has an interest in his words.

A loud commotion emits from the entrance to the grand hall. Glasses falling from a tray and smashing. Gasps and shouted words echo around them, inaudibly.

Arabella turns to see a short-framed man with a purposeful stride gaining traction towards them. Alfie squares his shoulders, anger painted on each angle of his face.

As the arrogant rogue gets closer, she looks at the dirt lining his short and stocky fingers. More alarmingly, as she focuses she notes the crimson liquid staining the filth invested tweed jacket he wears- the cardinal blotches seeping between the holes.

‘Ar ey, I haven’t missed the party ave I?’

Alfie grabs tightly to her waist. A mist glazing his eyes in utter madness as a crowd begins to be drawn to the man’s strong Liverpudlian accent. If they thought Arabella was out of place being here then god knows what they thought of him.

‘You’re a hard man to pin down, Mr Solomons’.

‘And you’re a brave lad coming here on your own, ain’t ya?’

The man releases a gruff laugh that settles on Arabella’s last nerve.

‘I’m sorry but who the fuck are you exactly?’

The man smiles sickeningly at her, displaying an abundance of yellowing teeth that misshape and overlap like stones in an abandoned graveyard.

‘Sweetheart, I’m Michael McCleary and you’ll do well to remember that name’.

************************************************************************************

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