#only a road that stretches endlessly forward

[ancicntforged]

Anywqys the reason I haven't actively done any threads or asks is because I've been playing a lotta Minecraft with my brother and his pals, as well as Lethal Company with Seventh, Splat and co.

But also because I just needed a break from roleplay to prevent a burnout. My batteries are recharged now, so today after work I'll tackle everything.

But also another reason is that I feel I stagnated in terms of writing and roleplaying. This is not to say it's a negative thing, but rather it's me thinking I peaked.

#ooc #long post #not really a vent or anything #just observations I had #all my rpartners are the best and saints for having so much patience tbh #but yeah personally i peaked #its no downhill from here though #only a road that stretches endlessly forward

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

By His Command 1

Summary: you arrive at your new household to serve. (Handmaid AU)

Warning: this series will contain violence, dystopian aspects, rape and noncon, blood, coercion, possible pregnancy and other dark elements. Please read these warnings and beware.

Character: Lloyd Hansen

Note: you're screaming at me, why are you starting another AU and I got my fingers in my ears like na nana boo noo.

Oh and there may be more commanders to come...

Anyway, thoughts and prayers welcome for my lost soul. Also feedback and comments if you dont mind. Maybe a reblog. 💕💕💕💕

You watch the cloud of your breath in the cold air. The grey sky stretches endlessly on, as flat as anything else in this pallid world. A white blur trims the edge of your vision, that every present brim, a facsimile of a halo. You are not a fallen angel but a disgraced sinner, sentenced to penance, fated to serve another's salvation.

You clasp your hands together, red gloves chafing roughly, wool scratching your raw skin. You look down at the scarlet ripples, the endless crimson that marks you for exactly what you are. You pull at a stray thread and let it fall away.

You raise your head and stare at the opaque screen that separates you from the man in black. The guardian drives on across the fields paled by an early frost, dried grasses wilted beneath the premature winter. You take another frigid breath and lean forward, hovering your hand before the small vent in the door. Nothing.

You sit back. You know better than to complain. There is no one for you to complain to. No one who cares. You are not a person with feelings and thoughts. You are a vessel, to be filled and emptied over and over. You repress a shudder and keep your welling eyes aimed out the tinted window.

You dip your head and hide beneath the broad brim of your white bonnet. You clutch your hands tight and wade through the mounting panic in your chest. The women who left the centre didn't often come back, and when they did, it was never pleasant. Still, you would give anything to go back. There you know what the worst and the best is.

You don't know much of what awaits you, only that it floods you with dread. A commander and his wife, but what else? Will he be cruel? Will she hate you? Will you be able to do what you were trained to?

You part your hands and bring them up your arms, hugging yourself. You can't remember the last time anyone held you. The last time anyone dared touch you. Even when you laid screaming before the other handmaids, hands bloody, back welted, no one dared come near you, no one thought to comfort you.

The SUV turns and you force your eyelids apart. You sniffle and wipe your nose with the coarse wool glove. There is a low stone fence that trails the long winding road towards a tall gate. The tires slow as your heart piques and you choke on terror.

At a halt, you hear the man's voice in the front seat, through the barrier that divides you. For order, for chasteness, for your debasement. You are not worthy. You are emblazoned as a blasphemer.

The car rolls on, jerking you back against the seat. A slow draw that brings into view shedding hedges, stone benches, a fountain, a lawn that expands before you. You watch the birds flutter, marveling at their peace, and a leaf drifts down in a calm path to the ground. A serenity that so starkly counterbalances the chaos blooming in your chest.

You veer around the curved arm of the driveway and once more stop. The engine rolls over and quiets. The front door opens and you flinch. Steps tramp and come around, a shadow awaiting you on the otherside as the locks slide back.

The guardian opens the door and you grab the red valise on your feet. You turn your legs over the side of the seat and step out, heels clacking off the hard stone. The man steps back, gripping the strap of his gun.

"Go," he nods his chin in the direction of the house.

You look over at the grand facades, stone and mortar in a centurion style, rooves high and looming, a balcony with a naked trellis below. You gulp and march forward, grasping the round handle of your bag with both hands. The man trails you, keeping you on course as his steps echo your own.

You get to the first step and raise your foot, setting in on the stope edge. The front door opens and steals your attention from the hem of your skirt. You look up as a Martha emerges in her green smock and apron. Her faces is blotchy and her grimace is deepset.

"Come, OfLloyd," she beckons you with a curt wave, "we must prepare for the Commander's return."

#lloyd hansen x reader #dark lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #the gray man #by his command #handmaid au #au #series #drabble

[helloheyhihowdyheya]

We're Shit Out of Luck, Munson

Eddie Munson x gn!reader

Masterlist Part Two

Summary: You're excited to take a trip north to Steve's cabin with all your friends. That is, until you're snowed in alone with Eddie.

Word Count: ~10.5k (I'm sorry)

Warnings: Swearing. Fluff. Improper knowledge of how a fire stove works. Sort of strangers to lovers? One Bed Trope!!!

A/n: This took way longer than I'd like to admit. I just couldn't get it work, but I hope it's good enough now :) Please let me know your thoughts! Love hearing from you all, and thank you for reading <3

--

The wheels of Nancy’s car churned up snowy roads under drifting clouds and floating snowflakes from above. In the rumbling backseat of her car sat you in the back, your head leaning toward the window. She drove, her bracelets jingling whenever she turned the wheel, while Jonathan sat in the passenger seat.

Some Fleetwood Mac song played through the old speakers, your head bobbing along as your eyes danced along the white landscape leading your way north – away from Hawkins and away from regular day-to-day life for just a few days. The three of you were planning to meet Steve, Robin, and Eddie there for an extended weekend away at a rarely used cabin Steve’s family owned. 

A knit hat hugged against your head, a heavy coat weighing along your body as you thought toward spending time with some you knew well – missing the days of standing doubled over again in laughter together every other day – and others you were excited to get to know better. 

Like Robin, who Steve had talked endlessly about how great the two of you would get along – though he seemed to especially say it after you teased or annoyed him. Or maybe like Eddie, your face quirking just a little at the thought.

You didn’t have anything against him, though you had only met him once. But it was just that you weren’t someone who would climb on cafeteria tables like he did back in high school or speak the way he did. You weren’t sure just yet whether his unashamed self put you off or impressed you.

Once your body had begun to ache from sitting for so long, you leaned forward, pushing yourself past the supplies containing clothes, food, movie, board games to rest a hand along Nancy’s shoulder. “Hey, we’re almost there, right?” you asked, peering at the map stretched across Jonathan’s lap.

He cleared his throat, stretching his legs before muttering, “Yeah, we should be there soon. It’s at the end of the road after we turn onto Lake Street.”

“Oh, is there a lake? Maybe we’ll do some ice fishing,” you suggested, humor in your voice as you leaned back into your seat.

Nancy let out a soft laugh, raising her eyebrows in a “maybe” sort of gesture and glancing to Jonathan.

He merely put his hands up. “You two feel free, but I think I’ll stick inside with all of my fingers warm and still connected to my body.”

With a smile, you returned to the view outside, watching it slowly change from straight county roads to winding dirt ones with trees growing thicker on each side. Swaying branches dusted off snow with each passing breeze.

Old brakes squeaked as Nancy pulled the car next to the cabin. Just as you thought about where the others were, Nancy muttered, “They’re probably not getting here until dark, if it’s those three trying to leave on time.”

You put down “chronically late” into your mental descriptions of Eddie and Robin, imagining Steve standing next to the car and waiting for them like the mom he often acted as. Spending time with the kids sometimes required a small escape like this, or at least it certainly seemed from Nancy’s urging to get away from Mike.

She huffed while getting out, but you just took it as a chance to get first pick at the cabin rooms. Grabbing your bag and hauling along food, you walked to the door as Jonathan asked, “Are we sure this is the right place?”

Glancing down, you saw a snowy welcome mat that said, “Live, Laugh, Love” – you turned around and shouted a giggly “Oh yeah.” Though all laughing died down as you tried turning the knob to open it… but nothing. Of course.

“Hey Nancy,” you called back to her at the car’s trunk, “Did Steve happen to give you a key to getting into this thing?”

You pressed your coat closer against your chest, trying to shield yourself from the wind, though the noisy breeze did nothing to hide Nancy’s sigh. “No, he didn’t. He said they’d be here in time, so it’d be okay.”

Pursing your lips, you nodded at the solemn information. Your breaths out made swirling white in the air in front of you as your boots creaked down the wooden steps. You searched around for a window that could be propped open and crawled through, but most seemed too high off the ground. The others refused to budge, even with all three of you trying to pull. Either they were locked or frozen shut out here.

A thud sounded out when your head rested against the cabin, slowly coming to terms with the rocky start to the getaway. Instead, you all were left inside the car, intermittently turning the car on to get enough heat going without wasting all of the gas. 

“Go fish,” Jonathan told you for what seemed like the hundredth time, making you mutter under your breath.

Your cursing only increased when Nancy asked you, “Got any eights?” You shoved your eight into her hands, ignoring her smug smile and ready to give up on this game. It’d been a couple rounds of her winning every single one.

All of your heads popped up at the same time as rumbling came from behind, eyes catching a large van pulling up on the other side of the front of the cabin. You breathed a sigh of relief at the unmistakable flowing hair of Steve through the passenger seat window after what felt like an hour. “Thank the lord,” you whispered before the three of you clambered out.

Nancy was the first to speak, her nose red like yours. “Steve, if you don’t open this cabin right now, we’re stealing it from you and locking you out.”

You guessed he would’ve had wide eyes and a surprised response, but he looked tired, nodding with a straight mouth. “Yeah, sorry about that,” he said, tossing the keys to her.

The wave and smile Steve your way had you returning them as you went to hug him quick. “You’re so lucky that’s all you’re getting from Nancy. Another half an hour, and you’d be getting much worse threats from me,” you laughed. 

As you turned to grab your things and finally find a warm blanket or bed or shower – something – he sighed out, “Hey, don’t blame me. Eddie here woke up late and was supposed to be the one picking us up. But I appreciate your kindness.” He rolled his eyes. “It’s good to see you though.”

“Good to see you too,” you said, patting his shoulder. And you meant it. That contagious smile and corny jokes were well-missed by you.

Making your way inside with your things, you wrapped your arms around yourself and grumbled under your breath things about Eddie that certainly didn’t help in his favor toward impressing you.

Stomping off the snow from your boots and slipping them off, you rushed through toward the rooms. You found three, which it didn’t take much mental math to figure out it’d have to be two people per room. Jonathan and Nancy would take one of them, leaving you with Steve, Robin, or Eddie. In the moment, though, you didn’t care too much as you picked a room at random and muttered your way into the bathroom with fresh clothes for a hot shower.

The steaming water dripped along your body, slowly warming your frigid fingers and toes. A long breath emptied from your lungs toward the smooth shower tiles, sending a warm shiver through your body. You weren’t sure how long had passed before you eventually turned the shower off, the leaky shower head dripping water droplets over and over again as you stepped out and dressed. 

You exited the bathroom expecting your bags to be right on the bed where you had set them. You had no reason to expect otherwise, until you were met with the chaotic sight in front of you.

Technically, your things were still where you had set them, but they – along with the rest of the bed, most of the floor, the wooden dresser – were covered in clothes, candy wrappers, toiletries, and… were those mini figurines? You only took one step into the room, making the floor creak below you, before a wild wave of hair popped up from the other side of the bed. 

Wide eyes stared into yours, big brown ones that nearly made you forget about the mess. That is until Eddie spoke up. “I uh, lost my Walkman. Tryin’ to find it before I go insane listening to their music.” He motioned his head toward the door with an unamused look on his face.

Listening for a beat, you heard music coming from the living room – which seemed to be “Material Girl” playing. Nodding, you looked around while asking, “Are you sleeping here?”

Eddie still rummaged through his bag as he muttered, “By the time I got in this woodsy cabin, everywhere else had been picked, and Robin was already nearly started the place on fire trying to start the wood stove before Nancy stepped in. So I guess?” He turned to you then. “Are we roomies?”

Between his lateness that caused you to sit in the car and freeze your ass off and having to now dig your things out from his mess, you pressed your mouth tight while thinking of your options. “I’ll be right back,” you told him, flashing a flat smile.

You didn’t give him time to answer before you left, seeking out Steve. You found him in the kitchen unpacking some of the refrigerated food. Walking right next to him, giving him a sweet look, you helped him put away some things.

His sigh filled the quiet space between you two. “What is it?”

“Have I ever told you how good your hair looks, Steve?” you asked.

“Of course. Now, what do you want?”

Groaning, you whispered, “I did not sign up for having Eddie Munson as my ‘snowy getaway’ roommate. Please switch with him. Or with me, I’m sure Robin is better.” You looked at her laughing in the living room while watching Nancy try to teach Jonathan to dance, unsuccessfully.

Steve let out a breathy laugh. “If you find uncontrollable snoring and sleep talking better, then maybe. But I already promised Robin I’d room with her. And you have those freezing fingers that I don’t want to wake up with on my back.”

“I promise I won’t do that, even if you are the greatest furnace I’ve ever known,” you begged.

He looked at you, stopping his unpacking and tilted his head. “What’s wrong with Eddie as your roommate? He’s not all that bad.”

You glanced back to your room to make sure he wasn’t listening. “I’m sure he’s not, but he’s been in there for two minutes and already trashed it. And I’m not exactly the type to share a bed with a stranger.”

“Well you could just talk to him. Or get to know him so you’re not strangers,” he offered, glancing toward the room. Your eyes followed, seeing that Eddie was walking out. You had meant what you said, that he wasn’t terrible – maybe you’d even like his sense of humor or laidback personality. But you already liked the rings wrapped around his fingers and the crinkles around his eyes – and all of that mixed with having to lay mere inches from him all night had you hesitating.

You quickly gritted out, “He could just sleep on the couch though” while bringing a smile to your face as Eddie approached.

Steve looked the same, leaning over to whisper, “Or you could.”

You’d seen the couch, a fancy one that looked as if it hadn’t ever been sat on. Your back hurt from just thinking about using it as a bed. There were no other quiet protests you could give before Eddie made it to you two, the chain on his jeans jingling with each step.

“Harrington, you seen a Walkman around here or in the van?”

Steve shook his head, sending his hair swishing along his face. “I’m sure you just missed it when shoving nearly everything you own into a single bag, Munson.”

“Except for extra underwear. I did forget those,” Eddie said with a sad sort of grin, though it turned happy at seeing your twisted face. “Just messing with you, roomie. Though I did forget toothpaste.” He pretended to bat his eyelashes, silently begging for you to share yours and only stopping once you gave in.

His hand patted Steve’s shoulder before walking away to ask the others whether they’d seen his Walkman. With a tight mouth, you just looked at Steve with pleading eyes.

“He can borrow some of mine,” he offered. 

You leaned your head against his shoulder in a silent “thank you” before making your way back to the room, planning to unearth your bag to settle in. To your surprise, most of Eddie’s things were cleaned up – or at least shoved to one side of the bed, which you appreciated as you opened up your bag, putting away your things into the drawers. 

This was okay. You’d only spend the nights in here, and that was only part of the day. You’d be having fun elsewhere the rest of this time out in the snow or sitting among friends in a nice cabin. This was still going to be a great getaway, no matter what came.

“Oh shit.”

Your head jerked up at the sound, your heart sinking for a moment at hearing Steve say those words. The music quieted down a little, sure someone had turned it down at the outburst. Making your way back, you found everyone else staring at Steve as he ran a hand through his hair.

“Anyone seen the packs of beer?” he asked, his voice low like he already knew the answer.

At everyone shaking their heads, Robin spoke up. “I thought you were bringing them.”

He nodded, putting his other hand on his hip – his classic mom pose. “Yeah, yeah I was. Except they’re back at my house, just sitting on the counter,” he sighed out. “I forgot them when running out of the house when Eddie pulled up.”

Groans echoed out in the space, a quiet “Way to go, Steve” from Robin joining them. 

“Well, how about a trip into town? That could be nice,” Nancy offered, clasping her hands together. “Grab some beer, check out the stores too.”

Jonathan peered out the window, pulling open the blinds. “It’s stopped snowing for a bit. Is it supposed to pick back up?”

You shrugged your shoulders like the others, none of you having bothered to check the forecast. “I’m sure it’s fine. Let’s get this road trip going,” Robin said with a toothy grin.

“We already had a road trip,” you said with a laugh.

“Well, a mini road trip then. Maybe there’s a Family Video there, Steve. We could use our double employee discount to get The Apartment for basically free.”

“Robin, you’ve already seen that literally a hundred times,” he responded.

“But not a hundred and one times.”

You smiled at the sigh he gave as opened up his hand to Nancy. “I can drive.”

Nancy nodded, digging out her car keys before throwing them to him. Most of the others started making their way to the door. Though it wasn’t snowing, you weren’t yet ready to weather the cold so soon again. 

“I might stick back here, if that’s okay. Stay warm for a little longer,” you told them, giving a small smile.

“Want us to pick you up anything?” Robin asked as she shoved a winter hat on her head. 

You waved them off, happy enough to just have the place to yourself for a bit of quiet before everything got going. But your body stilled when Robin turned to look past you, asking, “What about you, Eddie?”

“Besides beer? Nah, I’m good,” his voice sounded. You began to chew on the inside of your cheek, suddenly debating on joining the group after all. Your chances of relaxing went down to zero, instead launching in the other direction of keeping you on edge.

But Steve gave you a pointed look, as if telling you to stay and get along with Eddie. Between his flared nostrils and a breeze pushing through as the front door opened, a fresh wave of frigid air coming through, you just swallowed hard and nodded. You gave them a wave and locked the door after they left, soon watching it pull away.

You could hear your heartbeat in your ears as you slowly turned around, preparing yourself to say something to the near-stranger you shared this cabin (and bed) with. But all you saw was the tail-end of the towel sticking out of Eddie’s back pocket as he walked into the shared room, calling back, “Taking a shower” right before the door shut.

Standing in the middle of the cabin, staring at the space where Eddie had just been, your stomach twisted. This wasn’t going to be as easy as you thought. Leaving you with the empty rooms of the rest of the place, you grabbed a snack from the kitchen and the book you’d left on the counter. Taking a blanket thrown over the back of the uncomfortable-looking couch, you sat in a La-Z-Boy next to it, tucking your feet under yourself.  You weren’t sure how many pages you made it through before leaning your head back and slowly drifting off into sleep, the crackling of the fire and winds gusting outside weighing on your eyelids.

–

The second Eddie shut that door to shower, his mouth opened in a silent scream as his palms came up to his face. Only once he started the shower did he release a groan, fingers coming up to wind through his hair. He trashed the room of one of the most beautiful people he’d ever seen? God, he must’ve looked so dumb and selfish looking for his Walkman.

Where did he put that damn thing anyway?

And he saw the way you talked with Steve right after, probably begging him to switch rooms. A sharp pang ran through his chest thinking of you running to mother hen Steve to tattle on Eddie – all spiraling because he’d forgotten to set his alarm last night. He deserved a little slack, right?

He would’ve tried to make a better introduction if he knew he’d be meeting you. He was sure someone had mentioned it earlier, but after hours of listening to whatever Steve and Robin deemed “music” in his van before being unable to escape it even here, his mind wasn’t altogether there.

He’d stayed back from the beer run to shelter from more musical soundtracks, but he hadn’t expected you to stay too. So here he was, standing in the bathroom, head resting against the tiled wall as he thought of the least annoying way to share this room – or at least not make you hate him during this weekend. 

Eddie’s shower burned against his skin, scalding water dripping down him and washing away the bad start. The curls of his hair grew heavier as he washed it. At least this place had hot water. 

As he dried off and dressed, his lungs filled deep with breaths and emptied them fully, preparing himself to face you again. Silently opening the door, squeezing his dripping hair with a towel, he padded across the floor back and forth for a while. He wasn’t sure how long he’d spent arguing with himself on how maybe hash this out, occasionally taking breaks to tidy his things further – maybe that’d help? As the sun began to dip toward the horizon, he threw down his towel he’d somehow picked up again to find you and fix this. And find you he did.

His breaths grew much shallower, quieter, at seeing you curled up in that plush chair, blanket and book resting against your body. Though he knew if you woke up to see him staring at you, there was no way you’d stop hating him. But your chest rose and fell in even waves, your eyelids twitching once in a while, your fingers intertwined with one another. And as he was about to turn around and go back into the room to leave you asleep and content – without him – his eyes returned to yours one last time to find them already staring at him.

–

The scream you let out rang through the air, echoed by expletives from Eddie. Hand clutched to your chest, you gritted out, “Why were you staring at me? You scared the shit out of me!”

His teeth clenched together, eyes wide, as he nearly yelled, “You? You scared the shit out of me. Jesus… just came out to check on you, got a fucking heart attack instead.”

Eyebrows screwed downward, you replied, “Is that how you check on people? By staring at them until they wake up?”

“Whatever.” He rolled his eyes, though not quite as menacing as it could have been. “I’ll leave you out here to die next time, sweetheart.”

“Die? From what? The only thing that’s made me fear for my life was finding a mysterious man standing over me,” you scoffed, a hint of an incredulous smile across your face.

That made his face change, a growing smirk replacing his grimace. “Ah, so you think I’m mysterious,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. He’d changed into a t-shirt and sweatpants, and your eyes flicked down to his forearms more than once. And maybe at the way his damp hair curled against his shoulders.

“Mysterious like a man wearing a trenchcoat at the end of an alleyway, maybe,” you told him with a hint of laughter in your voice, your gaze rising up to see his face screwed tight.

“Yeah, well at least–”

Whatever retort Eddie had fell flat as the phone rang right next to you. Your gaze went between it and Eddie’s for a brief moment before you threw off the blanket and your book just as he scrambled to it as well. But your hand reached it first, your other pushing him away from getting it.

Your fingers grasped the handle, rasping into it, “Hello?”

“He- hello? Can you hear us?” The voice crackled through the receiver, though it sounded familiar. But Eddie by your side whispered, “Who is it?”

“Robin?” you asked, ignoring him.

“Hey!”

“Where are you all? You’ve been gone awhile,” you said, though only guessing from how much darker it seemed outside.

“Oh yeah, about that. We’re in the middle of butt-fuc– Hey!” The sound of rustling and distant voices talking over one another on the other end erupted into your ear before Nancy’s voice came into focus.

“Still there?” she asked, a bit out of breath.

“Still here, Nance,” a smile evident in your voice.

She huffed out a breath before speaking up again. “We’re stuck here in town. Snow blocked my car in while we were shopping – we can’t get it unstuck no matter what we try–” More noise comes from behind before Nancy’s voice comes from farther away as she says, “We are not using Steve for traction.”

You assumed she said that to Robin, and you’d laugh if you weren’t waiting for the other shoe to drop. Nancy let out a long sigh. “No one can come get out to us today… or even a few days if the storm stays this bad.”

Your eyebrows lowered into a deep valley. “Storm?” you asked. You craned your neck toward the nearest window, unable to see much outside with the sun far down now. As you did, you caught Eddie’s face in the reflection looking stern, making you turn to him. 

He waved a hand at you, mouthing something that you only caught every other word of. You mouthed back “What?” but held up a finger as Nancy began speaking again – leaving Eddie with his arms crossed and jaw tightening.

“Yeah. Ugh, I was stupid not to check beforehand. But we’re not making it back tonight.”

“Not at all?” You knew the question didn’t quite make sense, but your eyes flicked to Eddie for a moment, your heart crawling up your throat. All it did was make him whisper-yell at you to tell him what was happening. “What about all of your things here?” you asked, your voice much quieter. There was no way they’d be able to walk all the way back, especially if this snowstorm was as bad as she was saying.

You could practically hear the frustration laced through Nancy’s words. “After we walk to the one motel this town has, we’re going to buy toiletries and things. We’ll try again tomorrow and call you, but in the meantime, are you two okay by yourselves? I know you and Eddie don’t know each other too well.”

Glancing at Eddie again brought his patience to an end, his legs bringing him to your side and holding the receiver between both of your heads to listen. The proximity of his body so close to you all of a sudden had you stepping back, eyes merely blinking at him as you tried to answer, but the way he looked at you didn’t make words come any easier. Eventually, you let out, “Uh, yeah, we should be okay. We brought enough food to last us.”

His gaze held yours, his eyebrows raising high at your words. He mouthed, “Why?” but Nancy responded first.

“Good, good. Okay,” she breathed out, “Sorry about all this, but we’ll hopefully see you tomorrow then.”

You didn’t think Eddie’s face could’ve twisted further in confusion, but you were mistaken. “Yeah, see you, Nance,” you said, your own voice feeling distant from where your mind was at. The line clicked to an end after saying goodbye, the receiver falling limply with your hand.

Before you could even collect your thoughts, Eddie spat out, “Can you finally tell me what the hell is going on?”

Your head jerked back just an inch before your eyes rolled. This was going to be a longer weekend than you ever thought. Instead of answering him, you walked to the cabin’s front door, pulling it open carefully so the wind didn’t fling it off its hinges. Standing there, gazing out into the world, you felt Eddie’s feet walk across the floor until they stopped next to you.

With the front porch lights illuminating the way, you could see heavy flakes pelting down onto growing piles of snow. It wasn’t nearly as much of a surprise as to how their car had gotten buried so fast after seeing how much snow blanketed the world.

“They’re stuck – staying in town tonight,” you finally muttered. “They’re shit out of luck.”

He rubbed a hand down his face, fingers tangling in his hair as a groan rumbled up his throat. “No, we’re shit out of luck. Jesus.”

Despite the view of endless stars littering the sky, goosebumps started littering your skin. Your hands grasped the door handle and pushed it shut and locked before resting your head against the thick wood. 

“Well,” Eddie said from behind, making you turn and watch him shift from one foot to the other, his hands stuffed in his pockets. “At least we don’t have to share a bed anymore.”

You let out a mostly unamused snort, lifting your head to shake it back and forth. “That’s the least of your problems. They had all the beer.”

“Shit…”

–

The two of you had nearly started a fire and a fistfight in the kitchen while trying to make a late-night dinner. This cabin felt ancient, none of the appliances working how either of you thought they would. Eddie tried to come in to help, hoping it’d mend some sort of relationship between the two of you, but he ended up pulling off one of the dials. Instead, while he piled up logs high into the wood stove for the night, not knowing if any of what he was doing was right, you rummaged through food to make a couple sandwiches.

In silence, you two sat at a creaky dining table and ate a meal that wouldn’t fill you up and that would have you searching for snacks in the middle of the night. But he was having dinner with you, trying to not stare at you too much – though, part of him thought “How could he not?” There was a way you spoke, lived, breathed that had him strangely captivated and wanting to know more.

“So…” he started saying in between bites of his surprisingly delicious sandwich, “do you forgive me yet for scaring you?” He tried to sound sincere, but a wry smile rose along his cheeks.

Tilting your head, you told him, “Might be my memory, but I don’t quite remember you apologizing for it, Eddie.”

As his name rolled off your tongue, he couldn’t stop his face from flushing for a second. But his grin came back almost immediately. “Think it’s your memory then.”

“While how about you refresh it for me,” you said, looking at him expectantly. The crackling of the fire filled the air between you, its heat wrapping around his body while you waited.

A few emotions crossed his face, determining the right way to do this, before he finally said, “Sorry about it.” He shrugged. “Not sure you could blame me for staring me for staring at you, though I didn’t realize you were so jumpy.”

Eddie’s throat felt tighter as he swallowed down the risk he took to say that, but he’d say it a million more times if it meant to see the way you paused, your face turning shy as you looked away. 

“See…” you said, your voice returning to you as you pointed at him with your sandwich, “I don’t think that’s a very good apology. Not sure why it’d make me forgive you.”

“It came from my heart.” His hand came to rest on his chest, right above his heart with a solid thump. His fingertips felt the way it beat just a bit too fast for his liking. His apology wasn’t good, but it got you to talk to him some more, and that felt like enough.

Flat-toned, you told him, “Sounds like you should go to a cardiologist, cause your heart gives shit apologies.”

Dramatically, he pretended to stab a stake through his chest. “Great, now you’ve wounded me.”

“Clean up dinner and I’ll forgive you, okay?” You stood up with a smile you tried to hold back, only moving to the living room once he wordlessly nodded. “Thanks.”

He felt glad you weren’t watching at how fast he put the few ingredients away and tidied up the table. He glanced at you while you gathered up your things, your face a bit shyer as you approached him.

“Gonna get ready and head to bed. See you in the morning, yeah?” you said, making a pang hit his chest in a way that left him confused and nearly breathless. 

“Yeah, sleep well,” he muttered, hands back in his pockets and playing with the coins left in there. 

Standing in the cabin alone as your door shut, only accompanied by the hot fire and chilling winds outside, had Eddie walking to bed with too-loud thoughts. Had he won you over? The way his body seemed to care so much about the answer to that question didn’t help his tiredness as he climbed into bed.

–

Despite the constantly creaking house under the harsh force of the storm’s wind, the night passed quietly at first, only accompanied by your occasional tossing and turning. You went to Steve and Robin’s bed that night, leaving Eddie in the one you were supposed to share with him. You thought of your friends and hopefully what plans they had in store for all of you once they made it back tomorrow.

Robin had a million movie recommendations for the group to watch. Nancy brought games for you all to play. Mostly, you just wanted to catch up with everyone that you hadn’t seen in awhile, happy to finally find a time to be together, but look where you were…

Sleep came and went, and came and went again until you woke up a few hours later with a chill climbing up your spine. Your weary blinks barely did anything, the room soaked in dark. Though if you had been able to see, you would’ve expected to see your breath billow out into the air. 

How did it get so cold? Squeezing your eyes shut, you willed yourself to curl tighter against yourself and fall back asleep. But it evaded you, slipping away through chilled fingers and goosebump flesh. 

No part of your body agreed, but you slid out of the bed with a blanket wrapped around you. Your feet curled against the cold floor as you made your way to the fire stove, doing your best to not run into anything. 

In the dark, you could spot the last embers in the fire stove still dying out. Shit, you hadn’t been paying attention to where Steve’s family kept the logs. While searching in the dark for a light switch or the logs, pain erupted through your toe as you stubbed it against something. 

A subdued groan stuck in your throat, one hand over your mouth while the other went to your toe as you bent down. Breaths came from your nose in rough bursts, the cold air only making the pain worse. 

Feeling around, you vaguely recognized what you ran into as Eddie’s bag he’d brought out at some point last night. You silently cursed him before making your way to his room, exhaustion fueled by the cold weighing on your eyelids and shoulders, slowing you down.

Fingers wrapped tight around the blanket still, you knocked on his door once, twice, three times… you lost count when he didn’t answer. Fed up, you creaked the door open and whispered, “Eddie?”

Only once you repeated his name louder did he stir, his mouth releasing a groan from beneath the sheets.

“Hey, Munson. Where’s the firewood?” you asked, walking closer to him.

His hand came up to rub at his eyes. “Jesus,” he mumbled, “it’s freezing in here.”

He couldn’t see you roll your eyes, but that didn’t stop you. “Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. The wood stove burned out, where’s more firewood?”

“I used the last of it when I filled it. Thought it’d last us awhile.”

You didn’t want to absolutely lose it on Eddie, but the heat of your frustration felt welcome in your cold body. “You used the last of the firewood in a winter storm? Are you trying to get us killed?”

He sighed out, “I’m sure there’s more somewhere.”

“Where?”

“How should I know?” he asked, sleep still laced through all of his words. You envied him and wanted to strangle him. “We can look in the morning or call Harrington, okay?”

“And what, do we freeze until then?” you asked, pulling your arms in closer to your body. You weren’t sure you had enough layers to last you that long.

Shifting himself over, Eddie offered, “You could join me to share body heat or whatever, or you could leave. Either way, I’m falling asleep in the next 60 seconds.”

Your face twisted, nails digging into the softness of your blanket. Part of you wondered whether freezing during the night would’ve been better than sharing a bed with Eddie, the first thing you tried to avoid after getting here.

But his hand flopped over near you, and you could feel the warmth of him washing onto your thigh. With a final shiver through your spine that you blamed on the cold and nothing else, you grumbled, “Let me in. And watch your hands.”

He held up his hands as if to show you he wouldn’t dare, not that you really expected him to. Climbing into the bed, your body relished in being near him. Your tired muscles loosened with the heat as you curled against him while he laid on his back. 

“Shit!” Eddie nearly yelped as your cold feet accidentally brushed against the skin of his legs. 

“Oh suck it up and warm me, Munson.” You pressed closer to him still despite his protests, and despite the nerves firing inside you. Your blanket stayed wrapped around you like a burrito, acting as a barrier between your bodies at least a little bit. Maybe it’d be enough to let you fall asleep without overthinking all of this.

But the blanket constricted your upper half, so as you wiggled against Eddie to get comfortable, you brought your arm across his chest. Hoping that didn’t go too far, you began to ask him, “Is this oka– are you not wearing a shirt?”

Pulling back a bit, you tried to look him in the eye… and maybe lower. But the darkness obscured any glimpse. 

“Got warm when going to bed. Shirt’s somewhere on the floor. S’that okay?” For once, his voice sounded void of teasing. Instead, you could tell he angled his head to try and get a look at you as well.

Settling back against him, laying your head against his shoulder and pressing your body to his, you nodded. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, of course.” Was it okay? Your fingers rested along his ribs and unable to get the feeling of his bare chest out of your body’s memory.

The weight of his hand resting against your back and the slight tickle of his wild hair brushing along your face warmed more than just your skin. All of this breathed intimate, made you close in more than a physical way.

“Good night, Eddie,” you whispered. Your body began to relax as the chill left in favor of the blooming warmth he provided you.

Against your head, he whispered back, “Good night, sweetheart.” 

You thought sleep would be impossible while wrapped together with him, and while calling you those pet names, but the comfort of your breath falling in line with his had you tipping toward exhaustion. And though you seemed to be bursting with thoughts and questions, Eddie had vowed to go back to bed soon, so you shut your eyes to let him sleep, falling into unconsciousness within moments.

–

Eddie did not fall asleep soon, not even close to the 60 seconds that he had told you. Not with you snuggled this close to him, your soft breath sliding against his skin with each exhale. He was sure you’d fallen asleep then, little noises sounding from the back of your throat kept his mind racing and his body all too aware of yours.

When your thumb had rubbed back and forth along his skin, his brain went blank then burst back online when his stomach tingled. Did he really have god damn butterflies from that? At least it seemed he’d won you back over from pure annoyance to mild tolerance. 

He hadn’t told you, but he’d been cold too. Eddie absolutely wouldn’t have told you about the way his heart lept into his mouth when asking you to stay in the bed together. Or how wide his smile had gotten when you actually said yes. Each time you twitched, he feared you had gotten cold again or had some bad dream. But there you stayed, in his arms.

No part of him could tell what time it was by the time his tingling nerves finally settled and warmed. Dipping toward unconsciousness, he knew he’d sleep better than he had in a long time. And he did, with you pulled tight against him and refusing to let go.

–

The sun peeked its body up above the horizon. Light streaming in painted the frosting swirls adorning the window in a rainbow of shades. The absolute silence out here in the winter felt welcome against your ears. Through everything this trip had brought, at least you had time to sleep in. 

And Eddie took full advantage of that. As your eyes blinked open, you found him out cold – but he certainly didn’t feel cold. The first thing touching your awareness was the feeling of Eddie pressed against your back, the rising of his chest and pounding of his heartbeat. His arm wrapped across your ribs and came to rest his hand on top of yours. 

Silently, a soft smile rose on your face as his nose nuzzled against the back of your neck. Who knew he loved to cuddle so much? As each quiet minute passed, you seemed to care less and less about the minor ways he had annoyed you through this trip so far. Well, not completely – but at least this was nicer than bickering with him or being stuck outside.

Despite the chill still in the air, your body ached to stand and stretch. As you slipped from Eddie’s grasp, you glanced back at him. In the morning light drifting past the curtains, you could get a better look at him. But only a short one, not wanting a repeat of what he’d done to you yesterday. Facing you, your gaze took longer than you’d like to escape from staring at his arms and chest or how his hair cascaded across his face and onto the skin of his shoulders.

 He had nice shoulders.

Shaking your head, you opened the door to let him continue resting, which apparently he really needed. While he slept in through most of the morning, you’d managed to make breakfast, get washed up and ready for the day (and covered in many, many layers) and actually read this time – with the record player on its lowest volume. Through the busyness of work and college, you found it hard to capture (let alone appreciate) moments like these anymore.

You’d checked outside again and again to see whether the snow had miraculously melted since you last looked. But each time you pulled back the curtains, the blanket across the land still sat there – though snow continued to fall, it drifted slower now. Its quiet and undisturbed body looked peaceful, comforting in a way despite everything.

Though not unwelcome, the soft air broke once the phone rang. With quick footsteps, you went to it and picked up, rushing out, “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Nancy again,” the voice on the other side breathed through the receiver.

Maybe you should’ve asked how she was or how she slept, you skipped past any pleasantries. “Any good news?” you asked.

The sigh Nance let out told you the answer before her words did. “Wish I had some. Everywhere within a hundred miles is facing exactly what we are. No one’s getting anywhere for a bit, barely even plows.”

You swallowed down a deep groan, your fingers tightening around the phone. “There’s no way you’re getting here today?”

“Maybe, if we’re lucky. I’m sorry.” And she did sound sorry, but she was the one stuck in a motel room in a tiny town buried in snow.

“Don’t worry… I’m sorry you’re roomin’ it in that motel for the time being. And with those two children,” you laughed out, breathing easier when hearing Nancy’s laugh too. You vaguely heard her say something else, but you turned to look at Eddie’s room to see the door open.

Your eyes roamed across his sleepy state as he walked toward you, the back of his hand coming up to rub against his eye as he yawned. His hair laid at odd angles, the curls raining down on a faded Judas Priest shirt he now wore, which hung down onto a pair of black sweatpants. You couldn’t quite look away, a warmth in your chest at seeing him in such a state. Only hearing your name through the phone brings you back.

“Sorry Nance, what was that?” you ask, shaking your head and keeping your gaze elsewhere.

“Just wishing you luck on your extended vacation with Eddie,” she said, a slight humor in her voice, almost as if she knew what just went through your head.

You nodded even though she couldn’t see – maybe she could apparently, or you were just that obvious – but you followed up with, “Yeah, good luck too. Keep us updated?”

“Of course,” she said, and your mouth pressed tight. Perhaps from missing out on this time with her or perhaps from the impending conversation with Eddie in a second. 

“Oh wait!” you said louder, “Please ask Steve where the extra firewood is. We’ve burnt through it.”

Nancy mused out loud, “We should’ve had one of you there when he explained all this. One second, I’ll ask.” You imagined her whispering to Steve while Robin was still asleep.

While sounds of shifting and moving went through the background, you watched as Eddie grabbed the blanket you’d been using on the couch and wrapped himself in a burrito. You turned away to hide your smile, thankful Nancy came back.

“Hey, he says it’s out back in a log rack. And that you only need to put some in the stove at a time, not too many or it’ll burn out faster,” she explained to you. 

You thanked her, and the click of putting the receiver back echoed through the room. A silence settled before Eddie finally asked, “They on their way back yet?”

Leaning back against the kitchen counter, you angled toward him as you answered, “Uh, no. Quite the opposite, actually. There’s a small chance they get back today.” Gesturing to the window with the head, you followed with, “Snow’s probably not stopping soon.”

You allowed yourself to glance back at him while he looked past the curtains, knocking his head against the glass with a groan. “This storm has a vengeance against my quest for beer.”

Letting a laugh out through your nose caused him to stare at you, eyebrows furrowing in a way to ask you what was so funny. Shrugging, you told him, “You certainly have a flair for dramatics.”

He crossed his arms as he stood tall. “Maybe you’re not being dramatic enough. We’re stuck here for a whole weekend.”

With wide eyes, you asked, “Oh, having to stay here with me calls for melodrama and agony?” Eddie’s face looked hesitant, even speechless for a second, until you were unable to hold back your smile anymore.

His eyes roll back, his usual demeanor coming back quickly. “You’re the one that didn’t want to share a bed with me, sweetheart.”

Your fingers came to pick at the hem of your shirt, eyes drifting downward. Your grin fell, throat tight as you struggled to explain yourself. “I, uh…”

His shrug followed with, “S’alright. We made up for it last night.” He let out a small laugh, one that didn’t quite ease your embarrassment. “Where’s this firewood though? Freezing my tits off here.”

That did get a giggle from you and let your shoulders ease a little. If Steve were here, he’d give you an “I told you so” about communication or whatever, but you were just glad Eddie wasn’t too upset.

Still, you couldn’t stop your sigh as you told him, “Firewood’s out back in some log rack apparently.”

Raising his eyebrows and pulling his blanket tighter, all he offered was, “Well, good luck. Have fun with that. I’ll be here to warm you up again when you get back.”

“Ahh… no. You’re the reason it burned out in the middle of the night. So if anyone is going out by themselves, it’s you, Munson.” You crossed your arms, letting the silence grow louder as you two stared each other down.

“Fine! We’ll both go,” Eddie gritted out, shuffling back to his room. You slipped on boots, a hat (or two), gloves, and your coat. You were plenty tired of the all too familiar chill aching through your body.

But as Eddie came back out, you barely contained an explosive laugh at seeing him covered up. A ratty sweatshirt bulged against him, clear that he wore many layers beneath it. And he at least had on two pairs of pants. 

“Not one word,” he muttered, about to grab his shoes when you convinced him to wear Steve’s boots he’d left here. You also spent too long forcing him to put on a hat – it would “ruin this perfect hairdo” he told you, but you won out.

You were sure the two of you resembled young children bundled up and unable to move well by the time you opened up the front door. The porch allowed you to open it at all, unlike the back door that had a growing wall of snow barricading it.

Both of your boots crunched as you walked around the cabin. Despite trying to shield your face from the wind that seemed to come from every direction, the view you had certainly didn’t get old. Thick trees weighed down with fresh snow all spanning for miles, looking like a scene out of an old Christmas movie.

Nearing the other side, you spotted a rack with a tarp over it, sure to be piled high with logs. Your freezing fingers clenched at the promise of warmth soon. Just as you were about to look for the logs, you felt a thud against your back along with muffled laughter. Eyes narrowed and jaw tight, you turned around to see Eddie very obviously looking away from you, pretending nothing happened – like he didn’t just pelt you with a snowball. 

But in his act, he didn’t see you bend down to form your own snowball between your gloved hands. Packing it tight, you pulled back your arm and let it fly, hitting him square in the chest as he turned toward you at the last second.

There was no stopping the shit-eating grin on your face at his mouth dropping open or the way his gaze steeled. The look pierced past all the ridiculous layers, making you feel a little less cold out there. The way his head tilted to the side, awaiting him to make some cocky comment that’d have you internally stuttering – it kept you still, even as he bent down.

“Oh, you are so fucked,” he told you, packing another snowball.

He had no idea how right he was.

The second he stood back up with his ammo, your legs took off in the other direction, feet slipping through the snow as you ran from him. Though the icy air sharpened against your face, your grin stayed, now accompanied by uncontrollable laughter as Eddie chased you.

Rounding the next side of the house, you slipped around the corner to press against the wall, hiding from his view. His own laughter grew louder as he followed, making your teeth sink into your lip to stop from letting out any noise.

As he ran full speed around the corner, which wasn’t that fast in knee deep snow that wormed its way into your boots, you jumped out at him. Your hands landed on his shoulders with a slap, forcing a scream from his throat and his hand to release the snowball.

But he flew back in surprise, his legs tangling with yours and bringing you both down into the sea of snow. White powder billowed up and around your bodies, some of it wiggling into your exposed neck and wrists.

And yet, you weren’t complaining as you landed with your body pressed against Eddie’s, half of your chest on top of his – your faces only a breath apart.

Perhaps you should’ve scrambled back, apologized, or even laughed at him for screaming, but you admired the snowflakes littering his dark hair like constellations against a night sky. Then you glanced to the soft red covering his cheeks and nose, sure that it came from the cold but hoped it grew from something more.

Eddie’s breathing rose and fell beneath you, pressing close and then all too far a second later. You thought you might’ve caught his doe eyes glancing toward your mouth, yours doing just the same, but as he shifted closer, more snow dipped on the back of his neck and down his coat.

“Shit!” he yelled, flying up to try and shake it out, breaking whatever had held you two together for that all too brief moment. 

You sat there with a smile, watching him scramble to rid himself of the quickly melting snow. Letting out a long sigh, you stood up and waited until he calmed before nodding your head back toward the logs.

Moment broken indeed as you began to sweat trying to grab as many logs in your arms as possible – no part of you wanting to trudge back out here. Between the two of you, there stood (balanced precariously, really) a sizable amount of logs to fuel the wood stove for a while.

Your body felt a little lighter as the layers of clothes dropped to the floor, your cold cheeks beginning to warm up back inside and out of the wind. This time, you loaded the logs and set the stove ablaze, declaring the spot directly in front as yours for the next half hour.

Eddie, of course, had none of that. He plopped himself next to you, pressed against your side – claiming “it had the most heat, stop hogging it.”

You didn’t stop, not when the still-warming skin of your arm goosebumped as it touched his. The veins running along his forearm occupied most of your thoughts while you two sat there in silence, only interrupted by occasional complaining of a different body part being cold and cursing of this storm.

“You warmed up?” Eddie asked, turning his head to look at you. 

If you turned to him, you’d get caught up in the deep brown of his eyes or how soft his lips looked, so continued staring at the flames in front of you. You’d been plenty warm for some time now, but if you told him that, then you’d have to leave his side.

But before you could speak, he brought a hand up to scratch at his neck as he continued, “Cause I was thinking we could watch one of those movies Robin brought.”

Oh, that you could do. “Yeah. You can pick, I’ll go search for that popcorn Nancy put somewhere,” you said, getting up and finding it before he noticed how scattered your brain was becoming. 

The TV came to life as kernels popped in the pan you shook on the stove. As you watched each one burst, the nerves of being with Eddie settled back in your body, sleeping against your spine. This weekend hadn’t gone as any of you expected, especially not with seeing this near stranger as cute, charming even – not that you’d tell him that.

And rather than watch The Apartment as planned, you realized you didn’t want Eddie to be a stranger anymore. So you pestered him with questions, not that he seemed bothered. You loved hearing about Uncle Wayne and the auto shop Eddie worked at, or his D&D campaign he was planning at the moment.  Not with that smile when you told him about your family, friends, and how work was going. He even vowed to fight your annoying coworker if he ever saw him in public – like you had promised to check out Corroded Coffin when you made it back.

“Like, I know we fight literal demons in our game, but are you sure Tanner isn’t one of them? I mean, who falls asleep in the only bathroom? And locks it!” Eddie said, shaking his head as he filled his mouth with more popcorn.

“Right?” you said in between salty bites, “But as long he doesn’t show up at The Hideout, I’m coming for your show next month.”

And you’d give him a million more promises if it meant making that look spread across his face again – excited grin, cheeks squishing up to make his shining eyes shut. Wow. Maybe you’d put too many logs in, the air feeling much warmer now.

But it was easy, so surprisingly simple to spend the day with Eddie. He played you some of his favorite songs while you both laid on the ground, heads next to each other but feet pointing opposite directions. Every time he bopped his head to the beats, his hair brushed against you. The way his hands shot up to play an imaginary guitar and softly mouth the lyrics had you holding back giggles. 

This time, he tried making you dinner. And he did make a surprisingly good plate of pasta – without burning the whole place down. While eating, he nodded along to what you said as if every word quenched some sort of thirst he had for listening to you, for learning everything there was about you. He had this air about him of confidence, but past that, in those soft moments, you saw him settle into a quieter form of himself – one that calmed you too.

And reaching the end of the night, you awaited his question. Whether you’d be staying in his bed again. The fire was fixed; it’d stay lit throughout the night. But the two of you threw on another movie, maybe just so you didn’t have to confront that just yet in case you would separate ways. Your eyelids drooped and you yawned so hard it shook through your body. And that tiredness made your decision just a little easier.

“Hey,” Eddie whispered, resting his hand on your arm and shaking it gently. “Let’s get to bed, alright?”

Your head had drifted down until it rested against his shoulder, so it ruffled his shirt as you gave him a few sleepy nods. Shutting the TV off, he grabbed your hand and led you toward the bedrooms. As he slowed at the split between the two doorways, you kept shuffling your feet, pulling him into his room. Not bothering with getting ready, afraid it would break the unspoken moment between you two, you climbed into the bed and took the leap, holding out your arm as he had the night before.

–

God, he took the space next to you so quick. But he kept his movements gentle, not wanting to rock you out of your sleepy state in case it woke you from this dream you’d created. Eddie settled in, wrapping himself around you and under the covers. Jesus, he spent all night working up a way to ask you for this.

A deep sigh loosened from his lungs that you had done it instead. Maybe it’d been the way your eyes lit up whenever he made you laugh before they shut as you turned breathless, clutching your stomach. Or how excited you got talking about your favorite show at the time, your hands flying through the air. 

It’s not that you were intimidating, but you sure made him feel intimidated – nervous that he’d say the wrong thing and make that beautiful smile drop. But it didn’t. He could still see it in the faint light coming from the hallway, and it only grew as he pressed his body against yours.

Eddie really wanted to stay awake, on purpose this time. To enjoy this time as he stroked a thumb along the soft skin of your hip peeking out from under your shirt. But your heartbeat pumped against him, your breath made his fall in line to yours like a steady conductor – leading him right into sleep along with you. And he followed you without question.

–

It was in the late morning that you it happened, it finally came together. Half-awake, you laid your arm on the one wrapped along your stomach. It pulled against you, bringing you closer to the chest behind you. You weren’t yet aware enough to recognize that you weren’t dreaming, that it was Eddie also on the cusp of sleep holding you.

Not until did his lips connect to the point where your neck slopes into your shoulder did your eyes shoot open, any bit of tiredness inside you disappearing in a moment. Your head turned back to look at him, seeing his own eyes shut before also blinking open at your sudden movement.

He glanced between where he’d just kissed and your face, a blush rising to his cheeks as his mouth opened and closed wordlessly. “I, uh… I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry, um…” he stammered out before pulling his arm and scooting back until no part of him touched you anymore.

You’d done it – you’d broken the tension in the ugliest way, and you felt cold without him there. Turning to fully face him, you rambled to try to fix this in some way. “No, no, it’s okay. Don’t be sorry, really I should be the one sorry for taking your bed and forcing you to sleep next to me–”

“You didn’t force me–”

“But it’s really okay because it was cold that first night and so it made sense. And we both weren’t really awake just now, and–” You’d gotten up now to pace, unable to look him in the eyes anymore. You didn’t want that extra space between you, but he’d done it first and maybe that’s what he actually wanted.

–

Shit. Shit. Shit. How could he kiss you in his sleep? What a god damn idiot. Though he understood why he did it, watching you pace and float through the room like some angel he felt undeserved to kiss.

–

As you glanced at him for just a second, you saw the way his fists squeezed the blanket between his fingers. Oh, how could you have been so stupid to misinterpret things, and now you’ve made him uncomfortable.

Taking a long breath, you finished with, “I’m sorry, Eddie.” Your hand clasped onto your other one as you shifted from foot to foot.

With a hand rubbing down his face, he shook his head. “I’m the one that kissed you, and you’re apologizing,” he laughed out. “I didn’t mean to do that, especially without asking or something first, Jesus.”

You barely heard his next words that he spoke to himself, but your ears held on to every word. “Maybe my subconscious had gotten into my thoughts…”

Your teeth dug into the inside of your cheek as you contemplated your next sentence, the rabid butterflies ravaging your stomach. Pursing your lips, you quietly asked, “So… you would have wanted to do that if we were both awake?”

And his face shot up, those eyes the color of melting chocolate meeting yours. He climbed from his side of the bed, shuffling toward you – one of his steps for every three of your racing heartbeats. “Yeah, of course. But I didn’t even ask if you wanted that…” he said, leaving his unspoken question hang in the air.

Fighting the smile trying to rise up, you said, “So, you should probably ask then, Munson.” And the kind light shining from his eyes turned brighter into a tall flame threatening to burn you both. There it was, that cocky way he had.

His hand reached to grab yours, giving it a squeeze before he finally said it. “Can I kiss you?” he whispered, gaze unsure of where to stay, definitely your mouth it seemed.

You tried to come up with a million different ways to say yes, to tell him that you couldn’t stand another second without him being pressed against you again. As your mouth opened, a creaking noise came from the front of the cabin, followed by voices.

“We’re alive!” Steve shouted as the group walked through the door and stomped off snow from their shoes. Other words shot through the air, destroying the haven the two of you had made. Dropping your forehead against Eddie’s, you sighed out a breathless “Yes” that fell flat against his cheek.

–

Fuckin’ Harrington.

--

A/n: ​Thank you so much for reading. Reblogging and commenting make my day (and make me love you), so I’d love to hear what you thought! <3

#eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x gn!reader #eddie munson stranger things #eddie stranger things

[toothpastecanyon]

The Comfort of Agony, Chapter 7

For the first time in his eternal life, Alcor had been bound. He couldn't leave even if he wanted to... so it was just as well  that he didn't want to leave, right? After all, this was what Mizar wanted.

He didn't know what she was so angry with him for, but he probably deserved it.

See most updated version on Archive of Our Own.

______________________________________________________________

It was dark outside the store, but Piper swore she could feel the fluorescent lights beating down on her. She stood in line, shuffling slowly forwards until it was her turn. Dumping everything on the counter, she watched the cashier take a long look at her items before his gaze flitted up to her. The lights buzzed loud in the stretching silence - she tried for a smile.

“Hi,” she managed. “Uh, busy day, huh?”

“Hmph.” He grunted, and picked up a box of chalk. “You got a lot of these.”

“Yeah! Um - sidewalk party! We’re, uh, we’re all gonna draw on the sidewalk!”

“I see. Lot of candles, too.”

Piper laughed - it sounded way too loud. “Yeah… power outage? At my house?”

“Uh huh. And the sigil ink is for school, yeah? I hear that one all the time.”

“It’s… i-it’s, uh…” She looked at his raised eyebrow, and stretched her smile. “Look… I really need this.”

The man stayed still a moment longer… then, with a sigh and a shake of his head, he picked up the scanner. Beep, it went, and Piper tried to take a deep breath. She glanced down at the mirror in her purse, her heart pounding in her chest.

Beep. Beep. The man stuffed everything into two shopping bags and tapped his screen.

“Comes to, ah, one ninety seven, sixty six. Cash or card?”

“Card?” Piper blinked. “Oh, uh, I mean, card, yeah! Here you go - or wait, I scan it.”

After fumbling through the payment, she snatched up the bags, took her receipt, and hurried out of the store. The parking lot was dark, with glass crunching under her feet and the roar of cars speeding through the nearby highway. There was a shadowy figure smoking against the wall, and Piper tried not to look like she was walking too fast as she made a beeline for her car over at the gas station.

Once she was in, with all the doors locked, she tossed the bags onto the seat next to her and let out a huge breath.

“Oh, my stars,” she said, patting her pockets for her keys. “He totally knew what I was buying that stuff for. Do you think he’s gonna call the cops on me?”

“Probably not?” Alcor made a face. “He probably wouldn’t have sold it to you in the first place, but, uh… we should probably go. Quickly. Piper?”

“I’m working on it, where’s my- oh! In my hand!” A nervous laugh as she put her keys in the ignition. “Sorry, uh… getting a little tired, I think. Been a long day.”

“I know. We’ll be stopping for the night soon, though.” Alcor strained to peek over the dashboard. “We passed a motel a couple minutes ago, right? If you drive back that way, that’s probably the closest one.”

“Yeah,” Piper said, a little distracted as she pulled out of the parking lot. “Yeah, that’s… I’ll do that.”

It was quiet as she accelerated down the ramp, and merged back into the highway. The road stretched out endlessly ahead of her, the streetlights passed her by one by one by one; stars, she felt like she’d been driving for a lifetime. She shifted a little in her seat, rolled her shoulders, rubbed her eyes. Glanced over at Alcor, and made a face.

“So, uh,” she started, if only to break the silence. A few seconds passed as she thought of how to follow it up. “I still don’t get it. We’re summoning demons… to bind an angel?”

“Exorcise an angel, binding’s just a part of that.”

“Uh, okay?”

“It’s, uh, different.” Alcor took one look at her expression, and sighed. “I get it, this is way out of your comfort zone. But I promise, this is the safest way I can think of to get the materials. We’re summoning weak demons with strong binding circles, and we’re not even making deals with them, okay?”

“Okay…” Piper turned the wheel as she took a gentle turn. “Then, uh, what are we doing with them?”

“Nothing. We don’t need them - we need their chalk.”

“Chalk?”

She glanced at the shopping bag full of chalk they’d already bought, and he seemed to anticipate her question. “Chalk from a used summoning circle - it’s imbued with a low level of demonic essence. Once we get enough of it, we should be able to use it to trap the angel like normal chalk can be used to trap demons. We’ll need more complicated stuff later, but it can wait for when you’re not exhausted.”

“I guess that makes sense.” Piper said, slowly. “But why doesn’t normal chalk work?”

“It’s, uh, complicated.” A short laugh. “But basically, angels aren’t drawn to the physical world the same way demons are, so they can’t be bound in the same way. It’s not exactly harder, but the materials for it are different - not exactly stuff you can just buy in a store.”

“Okay…”

“The simplest way to repel an angel is with demonic essence. That’s why we’re doing this tonight instead of waiting for tomorrow - summon a few demons in your motel room and he won’t come near. You can sleep easy!”

“Sleep easy,” Piper echoed, rubbing her eyes. “I hope so.”

She was starting to feel warm sitting back in her seat; she shifted around again, turned on the AC and blasted it right at her face. She kept her eyes fixed on each road sign as it came out of the black and sped past her, waiting for that motel. Come on, she thought, any minute now…

She was so focused on the road ahead, she didn’t notice the dark figure of a car merging onto the highway and smoothly pulling up behind her. The lights came on in an instant; Piper jumped in her seat at the sound of a siren, and then her stomach dropped at the flashing blue and red lighting up her dashboard.

“Oh, shoot!” Piper gripped the steering wheel; she realised she’d swerved a bit out of the lane and quickly corrected. “Shooot… Alcor? What do we do?”

“The cops - dammit, this is the last thing we need.” Alcor strained to look out of the side mirror. “Uh, stay… stay calm? Maybe he’s pulling someone else over?”

The highway was empty but for the two of them; Piper made a face. “I don’t think he is.”

She flicked on her signal and started slowing down; Alcor blinked. “You’re pulling over?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“You can’t do that!”

“What do you mean I can’t do that?”

“You’re a missing person! He probably recognised your car!”

“Maybe he’s just here for the demonology stuff?” Piper eyed the plastic bags. “We could hide those somewhere, right?”

“It doesn’t matter where you hide it if he runs your plates, Piper!” Alcor watched in panic as they kept slowing down - he banged on the glass. “Piper! Piper, he’s gonna take you into custody! Piper-”

“What am I supposed to do?!” She snapped. “Run from the cops? I’m in a fucking Camry, Alcor!”

Alcor didn’t respond to that. Piper took a few short breaths as she turned onto the shoulder; her eyes were burning, and she rubbed them.

“It’ll be - it’ll be fine, okay?” She came to a stop, grabbed the plastic bags, and opened her glovebox. “We just act natural, right?”

“Piper-”

“We just act natural.” She tried closing the glovebox; she forced it up a few times as the plastic bags bulged. “It’s not like they can arrest me, right? I haven’t done anything wrong - I’m the one who got attacked! They can’t arrest me for getting attacked, right!”

“Piper-”

“Agh, stupid little- this is just perfect!” She slammed the glovebox one more time, and watched through blurring eyes as everything came tumbling out onto the floor. “What am I supposed to do?! I’m screwed! I’m screwed!”

Alcor spoke quietly. “You’re not screwed.” He said. “It’s gonna be okay, okay? Take a deep breath.”

Piper took in a shuddering breath, and pressed her hands to her face as she let it out. “I’m so fucking tired.”

“I know. I’m sorry. We’ll be on the road soon, okay?” When she glanced over at him, she found a reassuring smile on his face. “Once this is over, we’ll be at the motel, and you’ll be able to go to sleep. You’ve done a traffic stop before, right?”

“...Yeah.” Another deep breath, in, and out, and then she set her jaw. She looked behind her, at the blinding white headlights shining through her back window, then over to the glovebox again. “Okay. License and registration.”

“Yeah!” Alcor watched her dig through the papers that had spilled into the footwell. “I’ll dim myself, too. I’ll look like a normal mirror, but I can keep an eye on things, okay?”

“Okay.” Piper heard footsteps just as she found her registration; she sat up, and put her hands on the wheel. “Okay, okay.” Glancing over at the mirror, she found it blank, just as he said. Chalk boxes were still strewn around the footwell, but there was nothing she could do about them now - hopefully he wouldn’t notice. Nothing to do about it now.

“Okay, okay, okay.”

She could feel her heart hammering in her chest as a bright light came up to her window. She couldn’t see the figure well behind the flashlight; but a hand reached out and knocked on the glass, and she rolled it down.

“Uh, hi officer, I just-”

Click. Piper paused at a strange noise… and then froze as the cold, hard barrel of a gun pressed itself against her temple.

     “Don’t move,” said Mag’s voice with an eerie echo, and Piper didn’t dare to breathe. From the corner of her eye, she could see the mirror light up again, could see a furious brickwork demon come roaring into view.

“Y̵��̘̼͛̿͋̊̏̈͘ö̵͇͕͕̩̹͉́͌́̀̄̀͌̽̄͘͘͜͠ȕ̶̮̦͒͒͆̐͐̔̈̚,” Alcor snarled as the angel put away the flashlight; the pure glow of his gaze cast its own light into the car.

“Ȋ̸k̷͖o̷̮ẅ̸̘́w̴h̷̠̓ã̴̲t̵̞́ ỵ̵̆ȏ̷̠u ̷̻͠d̴͚͗ĭ̸̼d. Ŷ̸̈́͊o̴̰͛̂u̸̬̱̮̇̔̐ t̴̑̈́̈͐̀̎u̵̾̈͌͋r̶̛̯͋̅̑͌̍̈́ņ̷͓̓͐̀͘̕͠͠e̶͐d h̷̀è̷r̸͂ ̵͔̃͆̽͌̾͜͠͝ Ä̴̝͇̼̮̋̋͝G̷̡̱̜̩̮̥̼̍̾̍͆͋̏Ā̴̠̽̌̈́Í̵̡̥̙̱̯͕̪̃̒͊̀̃͜N̸̗͚̜̱̤̈́Ś̶̩̻͖̺́͆̍̎̀̒Ṯ̸̨̻͍̜̹̀͒͌͗̚͜ ̵̘̼̾̃̈́̀͑̍͆Ṁ̸̪̟̍̈́̿̏̏͘̚E̶̺̝̝̺̮͕̎̅! W̷̝̲͎̥̮̪̄͒H̷̨̞͍̜͓͒̆͋̆́̈́͐͗̽̈́͋̓̈́̽̄̚ͅE̵̡̧̨̱̜͎̟̠͓̪̯̓̋͐̈́̊̂̔̀N̶̡̨̢̧̥͙̪̝̘͇̹͈̜͕̓̉̔̽̅̌̃̋͐͂̕͠ ̶̢̛̬̤̪́̈́͋̔̍̇̚͝Ḯ̵̡̩̖̺̘̩͇̞̖̣̣͐͋͑̌̐͊́̀̌̊͌̕͜͝͝ ̵̨̡̨̫̤̠̯͈̫̥̩̈́̓̒͌͜ͅͅG̶̨̭̣̤̩̼̣̩̘̹̥̼̫͊͆̋͒̈̾E̵̡̡̹̞͈̫͕̭̥͙͈̩̠̰̟͗̀̊͂̄̅̄̐͆̅͂̓̀̏̒̚͠ͅT̸̡͔͉̥̂̍̊ ̵̨̡̣͈̦̻̺̽͑̐̃͗̑̅̕͘͝Ǫ̵̨̛̪͙̫̰̤̻̟̩̰͕̍͐͛͌̈̉̃͂͆͜͝U̴̮͎̻̬̝̙̟̪͕̼͇̩̱̱̗̐̎̓̃̏͒̈͑ͅͅT̴̨̧̤͚̲̩̗͖̞͉̼̉̂̒́́͜ ̸̢̱̞̜͉̈́̿͛͊̀̊͛͛́̒̋͝Ȫ̸̱̲̪̻͈̩̫͙̮̥̠̼͐̓͘ͅF̸̧̝̼̣̮̼̾͊͗̂̎̔̇̈̄̄͜͝ͅͅ ̴̧̡̛͈͖̞̞͙̙͓̂͆͒̂̊ͅH̵̛̱͖̒̈̔͗̏͆̄̔̔̿̏̀̈́̚̚̚Ȩ̸̢̛̥͈̳̠̦̫̩̹̙̩̼̅̒̔̅̉̇Ŗ̶̛͈͈̯͖͇̖͓̟̼͈̖͒͜E̸̢̙̱̯͙̙̣̘̤̟̹̲͊̓̉͋̈̈̿͗̏̌̀̿̈́̚͜͝ ̴͖̹̜̣͚̋̈́̌̓̍̐̈̀͗̈́̕̕İ̷̙̲̺͌͛̌̋͐͘ ̸̡̨̧̝͈̹̠̦̪̞̗͈̱̪̟͇̾̉́̈̅̄̎̓̽͒̒̓̕͝͝ͅẀ̸̢͍̞͇̻̙̱̳̃̑̔͆͛̈́̔́̈́̎̚I̸͈͖̘̬̲̥̮͊͑͂͊̍̈̔͂̐̉̔̓̓͜Ĺ̶̜̯͉̪̗͕̘̳̺͙͖̊̊͐͐͒̃͗̋͊̀̿͠͝L̷̢̡͖̞̯͇̳͔̻̤̜̖̤̈́̑̒̏̉̏̉͂͘͘͝ ̸̨̡̛͓̦̳̮̺̦͉͈̘̥̓̅͂̌̓̑͑̅̓̍͠͝T̸̨̨͎͇̮͓̰̖͖̙̖̟͗̾̂ͅE̶̡̧̪̗̿A̴̢̮̺̟̭̺̝͇̲̫͔̓̒̔̅̀̅͒̄̉̇̄̿͘͝Ȑ̷̢͚̳̳͍̖̱͕̺͔̆̈́̍͋̌̃́͛͊̌̿͛̀ͅ ̴͖̋̂͌̀́̅͗̑̕Y̴̛̛̞̬̺̞̠̩͉̹̜͎̟̆̈́̿͆͑͘͜Ò̵̧̡̡͈̹̮̩͊̿͆̀́̃̊̚Ǘ̷̡̧̜̤̟͓̞̼̮̦͖͖͓̗͔̯͒́̎̽̓̏̊̀̈ ̶̢̧͙̞͉̺̱͎̙͔̠̟̲̹̠̼͆͌̾̎̈̊̅̽F̴̡̦͉̦̠͖̭̹̘̥̉̈͑̌̑̌͜͝ͅR̸̞̗̫̒͠Ȯ̴̙̳̙̽̅̾̇̐͂̈́͗̈͌͛̈̋͘̚͝M̶̢̡̨̠͎̬͉̺͓͕͚̖̮̩̗̖̒̀̂ ̸̧̢̪̞͈͍͖̠̞̱̙͉̹̳̔̊̊̈́͘L̵̢̨̡̠͉̪̼̣̲͖̜̭̍͛̔̔͆̏̅͑̋͋̒̐̊̅̀͜I̶̢̨̲̼̤̭̘͖̭̼̻̲̘̥̰̋̈́͆̉̂Ṃ̸̡̢̖̲͎̱͍̮͓̱͓̰͓̆̈́̂̿̽͆̏̔̇͐͜͜ͅB̸̧̧̢̛̛̬͖̭̖͚̥̣̖̞͖̫͙̪͐̇͐̽̀͂̈͋͆͂͑͌͜ ̵̡̛̳̲͓̟̩͕̏̄̏̽̐̌͑̾̍T̵̯̗̝̘̬̙̐̈́̆̿̀̀̈́̀͒́̄̚͝O̴̼̯̊͐̅̌͛͘ ̶̨̛͚̘͎͉͛̊̍̔͒́̔̅̒̈́L̴̞̩̟̟̹͈̞̼̬̞̝͉̻̳͕̝͑̽̏̔͆̈́̾͒̓̽͘͘̕ͅI̷̡̳̜̬̠͈̭̥̥̙͖͚̫͔͌̄͐͐̃̆͋͜M̴͓̱̙̤̼̮͍͓͗͐̚͠B̶̢̲̖͙͕̊͛̇̐̀,̴̣̲͖͎̳͓̣̊̈́̽͗̂́̂͋̍́̾̈́̾ͅ ̶̞̟͖́̐̔̑Ǎ̷̛̜̻̥͚̲̫̲̩̥̗̘̩̳͇͍̇̂̈́̋͋̾̈́̕N̸̜͔͔͓̼̘̱͚̼͙̈̐̂̈̅͜͜G̶̻̘͖͙̣̃E̷̺͇̳̜̗̼͓̙̥̼̯̟̱̎͑͌͛̆̚͝͝͝L̷̰͓͛̅͊̏͆̓̋ͅ!̵̛̼̗̮͖̩͖̙̟̊͆̂͌̏̈͑̓͑̒̓͊̋͆̒͜͠ ̸̙͓̺͈͙̦͎̝̖̱͆̈́͜I̴̛̜͈͚̞̪͔͚͙̬͈̯͌͛͂́̉̈́̿́̊̈̚͝ ̸̡̧̨̫̞͈̥̳̠̰̰͕̙͚̺̈̊͗͑̇̾͊̍̈́̈́̾̑̄͛͝W̶̢̳͙̝͍͕̱͖̌̓͐̽̀̈́̕I̴̠̹͐̈́̐̎͑̓͐̈́̈́̚͝͝L̴̪̩̤͓̣̿͜L̷̢̛͉̪͍̾̿̀͊̏̓̌͊͊͗̇ ̸̮̫̺͙̹͉͖̺̻͙̤̙̜͖̋̂͐͛͒͊̅̅̐͝M̵̻̩̱̥̪̩͉̳͑̽͒̈́̅̏͊̔ͅA̸͓̱͇̫͛̂͊̑̃Ḱ̵̛͍̺͚̋͆̂̈́̀͗͑́̃̈́̒̚͝E̷̡͎͔͎̭̓̒́̕ ̵̪̠̘̿̆̀͂̈́̓̂͛͐̿͌̉̃͆̚͜Ỳ̸̢̛̼͕͈͙̟̩͓̼̣͇̹̀͛̍̔͑͆͊͋̑̚͜Ớ̷̧̠̟̺̘̜̖̼̫͇͔̣̣̦̫̥̝̏̈́͆̽́̔̊̿͆̂̍̕̕͠͝U̷̔́͒ͅ ̴̯͍͌̆͐̇̌͗͗͐̃̽̽Ẅ̷̧̢̢͔͖̳̤̳̜̦̖̝̱̺͖̲͔́̍̆̔̽I̶̛̩̫͈͍̬̤̗̹̽̚Ş̶̧̠̠̬̝̪̹͔̣̱͖̱̋̄̑́͝H̷͎̩͍͔̥̫̗̓̍̈́̄̉̉͂̀̅̏̾͗͐̓͜͝ͅ ̵̨̢͚̻̬̤̝̤̠̰̦̞̥̭̻͂̅̽̾̌͜͜Y̸̧̙̰͍̣̹͍̏̓̓͆͗̊̈́̇̈́̄̊̒͜͠Ō̵̞͔͈̜͙̂̅̅̂͗̏̀̂̑̕U̴̞͍͕̗̣͋̊̒͌͂̓̀̃̓͘ ̵̱͖͖̰͕̦̰̪͔̺̜̖̤̮̝̊̅̀̍͋̋̒̊̈́̋̔̓̕H̸̨̧̨̛̭̼̠̮̣̝̬̟̱̭͐̋̋̈͆̉̎͘̚ͅĄ̷̙̗͓̱̘̼̗͈̪̣͔̓͊̈̊̽̄̋̅D̵̠̝̗̖̱͓̋ ̵͕̞̪̎̐͛̒̀̋́̄̑̓̾͝͝N̵̛̛͙̮͙̠̗̲̥̙̬̻͔̱̘͍̐͛̿̾̎͗̅̎̎̎̈̃͝͝Ȇ̸̙͍̺̠̻̙̫͖̿̓͗̇̀̌̕͜ͅṼ̵̢̢̘̯̘̻̫̞̲͍̳̥͚̬̟͗͊E̸̘͚̣̲̱̭̪̥̱̗̔͌́̚͠͝͝͝͝R̸̘̜͇̈́͛̒ ̴̢̧͉̟̹͉̙͉͙̣͔̥͇͖̭̇̇̐̔̅͂̃̓͛̔̇͘̚͘͝͝͝B̵͇̬̮͚̟̤̹͕͙̫͒̀̐̃̏̽͊̇̕Ē̴̢̛͋̑̀̎̉̈́́͌͐̓͆̕͠͠Ę̵͍̟̭̬͋̒̔̇͝N̴̨̢̨̳̜̥͖̖̫͍̯̔̐̈́̉̋̓͗͐͑̊͑̑̅̀͆̑͊ ̴̠̟̖͓̞̲̊̆̈͗͛͂̄̌͑̔͘̕͘C̵̰̝̒̒̄̅̕R̵͕͇͓̫̭̘̯̦̙͖̱̱̬̙͑̋̿̓͑̌̌̈́̀͜͠͝E̸̲̰̰͙̼̟̼̥͂̅̽̋͌͗̋̐͜͝A̵̭̥͍͐͗̈́̐͋͝͝T̷̝̼̼͍̰̞͇̩̬̩̣͛̎̍̋͛̆̈̍̕͘ͅE̶̡̡͎̩̼͙͕̟̲̔̒̌̋̀̋͋̇́͋̆͗̽̌̋̕̕D̵̡̨̮̯̱̠͎̣̟̘̥̙͈͙̰́̇̊̓̍̏̔́̚ͅͅ!̶̛̤͙̖̌́̈́̌̌̐́̓̈́̿̕͘ ̸̧͕̫̺̠̣̘̥̫͖̹̐͌̊́̔͜I̷̺̼̪̲̥̣̘̎̾̇̿̄͐͘ ̴̫͔́̋͒̃W̵̺̊͐́͆̀̋̍̚͘I̷̛͓̝͓̖̤̬͕̣̙͚̊̆̒̑̇͐L̷͎̎͂̀͊̔̆̍͋͋̍̂̂̃̚͠͠Ľ̵̲̳͙͔̖̍̑̓̽̔̕͝͠ ̴̨͕̙̦̳̟͕̟̱̮̲̫̀̏̃̆̕͜͝͠H̶̟̥̤̖̐̓́̎͛͠͝ͅȖ̶̺̙͍̹͓̝͙̦̔̈͑́̋͝ͅǸ̷̹̼̪͎̤̞͓̝̦̰̿̍̈́͗͌͒̍̕̕Ţ̵̨̤͚̬̖̮̈́͊͐́̽̈́́̀̄̕͜͠͝͠͠ ̶̡͕̤̝̫͚̝̮͕͕͋̀̄͂̈̒ͅY̴͔͉̞͌̅̅̀̃͋̂̐͝͝O̴̢͑̉̒̽̒̍̿̌̌̇͛͆̌͠U̷̢̢̟̖͕͓̱̘̘̝̘̱͋̓͂̎̊̊͒̓̑̏̍͒͜ ̴͙̰̜̘͙̭̪͔̱̞̔͋̒͌́͛̂̈́͋̄́̐͗̕͜D̶̯̖̺̃́̈́̏́̈́͊͗̐͑̒̐̐̿̃͘͝O̵̧̳̟̜̳̞̐̐͋͊̈̒̇́͗̀̎͘͠͠W̸̧̟̱̹͈͇̰͔͈̥̠͔͔̔̐͌̈͗̓̀̈́̋̒͒̕͜͝͠͝Ṋ̴͕̩͌͋̒̅̚ ̶̧̛̩̝͎̗̘̊̐͒̂̃̍́͆́͝T̷̢̰̗̫͙̥͎̱͉͖͉̿͜͜ͅƠ̵͍̓̀̆̓̇̆͊̿͑̂̾̚̚͠͝ ̸̺̂͋̀Ț̶̛̠̰͈͕̗̗͚̭̜̈͐͋̈́͐͒̀̈́͘ͅH̸̛̻͙͚̱̪͖͚͚̟̾̈̓͆̇͌̍̎̊̍͝͝ͅÊ̶̦̝͖̪͖̗̻͚̼̥̓ ̵̧̮̻͚͚̪͛̊́͒̃̅͑͐̈̅͊͗̈́͝Ě̶̢̝̳̟̬̫͚̗͓̖̱̮̳̳͓̑̒̓̋̽̈́N̶̢̪͚̣͓͎͇̪͕͉̗̏̀̈́̑̂͑͘͝D̸̛̛̛͇̈̾̍̑̽̀̐̏̀͒̓͘͝S̴̡̨̡̛͕̰̼̠͉͇̗̥͇͖̳̈̽͌̒͗̎̾̈̒̇͊̋͝ ̸̲͈͎̄́̉̋̎̂̈́͘͘͠͝Ǫ̵͚̬̮͉̻̙̭̦̠̘̞̦̉ͅͅF̴̢̧̫̤̘͚͚̟̊͗͗̈́̓͛̀͜ ̶͚̲̲̓̏̀̂͛͆Ţ̴͙̦̞͇͔̹͎̝̲̳͖̗̳̲̇̔̾̊H̴̡̻̺͖̘͈̩̭̦̤̪̱̭̭̙͇̿̂̉Ę̶̛͖̱͎̜͉̗͔̗̱̜̭͛͑̏̈́͛̎̈͛̐̋̔ ̴͍̟̘͈̩̞̩̄͒̋͊̍͑͋͆̊͒̆̋͒̓̈́̚E̵̘͗̃́̌͂A̴͍̳̩̪͖̠̭̼͔͍̳͐͗͝ͅŖ̵̪̙͔̲̱̀͋̒̾Ţ̸̨̛̫̬͕̾͂͆͐̈́̔̚̚͘͝H̴͓͍̗͗̾̈́̀,̴̧̼͕̪̦̘͚̦̺̹̼͈̣́̂̓̔̒̈́͝ ̶͖̺̈̇̈́̐̊͑̚̕

Piper squeezed her eyes tight as Alcor descended into a furious static - she could smell the burnt plastic of the car seat, could feel his words tearing at her eardrums. And the gun to her head… Oh, god, she thought. Oh, god, oh god, oh god. This couldn’t be real. She was dreaming. Please let her be dreaming.

But when Alcor’s fury finally died down, the gun pressed harder.

     “Open your eyes.” Mag’s voice was flat. Emotionless. “Look at me.”

Her heart was beating like a rabbit. She couldn't get enough air in her lungs. Oh god oh god oh god-

     “Look at me or die.”

Those icy words cut through her panic, and she opened her eyes, looked into the pure white light of the angel’s gaze. Mag’s face was completely obscured by the brightness; all she could see of him was the tattered orange jumpsuit on the arm holding the gun. A terrified whimper escaped her lips; she wanted to cover her mouth, but she didn’t dare move.

The angel stared at her for a moment, its alien gaze raking down her form. Then it spoke again.

     “This is the end of the chase.” It said. “I let the air out of your tires. I cut your brake lines. I have total control, and I will kill you the second you step out of line. Do you understand?”

Piper could feel a sob welling up her throat. She just nodded.

     “This is how you survive. I will tell you exactly what I want you to do, and you will do it immediately. Look at me. Do you understand?”

Piper looked at it, looked at those terrible eyes. And as she did, she realised she could see just the barest hint of something underneath catching its glow; she could see Mag’s lips, twisted up into a garish smile.

A smile. It was enjoying this.

     “Do you understand?”

Piper swallowed back the bile rising in her throat, and nodded. From the corner of her eye, she could see something move in the mirror.

“Piper…” Alcor started - but what could he say? The barrel of the gun pressed ever harder against her temple, and he fell silent.

     “The plastic bags.” said the angel. “Wrap them around the mirror, but do not touch it. If you touch it, I will kill you.”

Piper was terrified - terrified of the angel, and terrified of a hot, reckless anger building in her chest. Calm down, she thought. Don’t get yourself killed, she told herself.

(Like it’s not going to kill you anyway, it whispered back. You’re just another Scarlett.)

     “Do you understand?”

Piper struggled to look at those eyes. She bit her lip, and nodded.

     “Good. Do it now.”

The barrel pulled back a fraction, and Piper worked quickly. She dumped everything out of the plastic bag, spread it over the mirror, and turned it inside out to fit it in. Alcor watched her worriedly.

“Piper?”

The handle was still sticking out. Piper emptied the other bag, and pulled it tight over the handle. The plastic bulged a bit at the point; she picked it up, and looked back at the angel.

     “Good,” it said, those eyes moving as it nodded. The gun was still pointed right at her head. “You may redeem yourself yet, child.”

(Redeem herself, snarled a voice inside of her. The fucking audacity.)

     “Now hand it over, and I will let you go.”

“Piper?” Alcor’s voice was high and panicked as she started to move. “Wait, Piper, you can’t! Please, he’ll kill you, he’s lying! Piper, please!”

Piper paid no attention. The plastic crinkled as she presented the mirror to him, handle first.

“Piper, think of your Dad! Think of Mag!” A hand was coming forwards, reaching for the mirror. “Remember what he did to Scarlett, you can’t hand me over! Piper!”

Piper held the mirror steady as the hand came forwards, forwards, milliseconds passing like minutes as the blood pounded in her ears. She waited, waited until the hand was right over the mirror, waited until the fingers were curling around the covered handle and take him away from her forever - and then she moved. In the blink of an eye her hand tightened on a fistful of the plastic bag and she wrenched it back with all her strength; the bare handle pierced through the bottom of the bag just as the angel’s hand grasped it.

Demonic essence. For a terrifying instant, Piper thought it hadn’t worked; he didn’t burn, but after a moment his whole body tensed up like he’d touched a live wire. He stumbled back with a strangled yelp, tearing the mirror from her hands and dropping it on the tarmac as his hands moved up to grasp his head.

Piper didn’t want to get out of the car, but she had to; she opened the door quickly, scurried over to the mirror, picked it up, and rose to her feet just as-

“Piper?”

Mag’s voice. Mag’s voice, and when Piper looked up at him she saw his eyes, wide and confused, shining only dimly from the light of the moon.

“What…?” He blinked a few times, frowning as he tried to make sense of the situation. His arm was still extended, and the confusion shifted to a growing horror as he realised he was holding a gun, pointing it right at her. “Piper? I don’t- agh!”

His eyes flashed, and he dropped the gun and went down to his knees. Piper stood there frozen, but she could feel a spike of urgency from the mirror; Alcor’s presence was pooling into her whole body, not taking over yet but standing ready.

“We’ve got to go,” he said. “Now.”

She didn’t need to be told twice. She bolted towards her car, jammed herself into her front seat, turned the ignition and felt it roar to life.

She stomped the accelerator, and the car started going; but only at a crawl. The engine revved loudly - the dial went into the red - but it struggled to pick up speed.

“Piper!”

“I’m going!” The car shuddered as she turned it back to the highway. “Something’s wrong with it, I don’t know-”

A hand slammed down onto the side of the window. Piper caught a glimpse of furious white; a gun aimed right for her face, but she made it onto the tarmac and picked up a burst of speed. BANG! Her ears rang, her windscreen shattered, and the angel was dragged off its feet, hanging onto the door by his fingertips as they made it to fifteen miles an hour.

“Oh, my god.” Piper said, but she couldn’t hear her own voice through the ringing. She glanced to the side and saw him still hanging on as they broke twenty. “Oh, my god!”

His hand was over the open windshield; she tried to roll it up, but he was too heavy for the motor. Twenty five, and the whole car was shaking and juddering - she didn’t know how much longer it was going to run. They needed to get away from him before it gave out.

Alcor was saying something. She couldn’t make out his words, but it made her look down at the mirror. She grasped it firmly, raised it up above her head, and brought the edge down hard on his fingers. They slipped but held; there was a cry of pain, and another BANG that felt like it was tearing right through her eardrums. She cringed as she raised the mirror again, and brought it down with all her strength.

This time, the angel was dislodged; Piper felt the car pull hard to the left as the weight fell off the side. She struggled to correct it - nothing happened when she tried to brake, but she had just enough room to turn away from the guardrails and right herself.

And there she was. Alive. She stared forwards, eyes wide, chest heaving, heart hammering in her chest. Her knuckles were white on the steering wheel. The whole car was shaking; she could see broken glass from the windshield shuddering off the dashboard and falling onto her lap. The display was a flashing mess of warning signs.

She sat there for a moment, stunned. A sign passed them: COZY JOE’S CHEAP MOTELS - 5 MILES

A blink, and then a blink again.

Piper stayed there frozen for another moment, and then reached forwards, and turned on her hazards.

#transcendence au #toothwrites #alcor the dreambender #mizar #Magnus Wright #I added so much zalgo in this chapter I hit the character limit lol

[miu-senpaii]

Late Bloomer | Shane x reader- Chapter 1: Life is a Series of Paths

Life.

You absentmindedly pondered about life as you watched the scenery outside the window change from a familiar dull, gray blur into green pastures and clear skies. The road ahead seemed to stretch endlessly into the horizon, and the low hum of the bus tires rolling across the pavement brought you a rare moment of serenity.

What is life? What is the purpose of life? Is there even a point in trying to find a purpose?

Sometimes, you like to picture life as a series of paths and forks in a giant forest. The foliage seems to block your view of what lies ahead on each path. Thus, you can only blindly push forward and never look back. Some roads are harder to traverse than others; you might have to climb over rocky slopes, cut through vines, or pass through poison ivy. At times like these, some may choose to lie down in a clearing and stay there forever. After all, all the paths lead to the same destination...death, do they not? Why even try? Why does it matter if you never progress, if you miss out on the beautiful scenery that lies ahead on certain roads?

Your thoughts were interrupted when the bus slowed to a halt, and the doors opened with a slight creak. You hear the bus driver call to you, "Miss, you've arrived at Stardew Valley." You take a deep breath as you get up, grazing your hand over your pocket to check that your grandfather's letter is still securely tucked away. As you take your first steps into a new chapter of your life, you remind yourself that life is a series of paths, and you hope the path you chose is the right one this time.

When you step out of the bus, the first thing that hits you is the freshness of the air. It takes a moment for your lungs to adjust to consuming this much oxygen in each breath, a feeling entirely foreign to you due to spending most of your life in the city breathing in all the fumes and pollution. Next, you take in your surroundings. You see more shades of green around you than you've ever seen in your entire life. The trees stand tall and strong, their leaves rustling in the gentle breeze. The fragrance of flowers and grass fills your nose, and for the first time, you learn what the phrase "spring is in the air" truly means. Above, birds soar freely through the brilliant blue sky, and big, puffy clouds--real clouds, not ones coming from factories--float by idly. The entire scenery around you takes your breath away. It feels straight out of those paintings of perfect green pastures and blue, blue skies you would make as a kid.

While you admired the view with wide eyes like an excited child, you noticed a red-haired woman approaching you. You regain your composure and muster an awkward smile as the woman greets you, "Hello! You must be Y/N."

"I'm Robin, the local carpenter," she continued with a kind smile, "Mayor Lewis sent me here to fetch you and show you the way to your new home. He's there right now, tidying things up for your arrival. The farm's right over here if you'll follow me."

She beckons for you to follow her, and you trail behind, listening to your soles crunching on small pebbles littered across the dirt path. You start to feel nervous doubts crawl into your mind. Were you even suited for farming when you had spent most of your days sitting at a desk for more than 8 hours a day slaving away for Joja Corporation? You couldn't even recall the last time you were able to properly work out or take care of your body since your soul was getting sucked out daily by Joja Corp and...him.

You shake your head in an attempt to suppress your bad memories. You decided to come here for a fresh start, something your beloved grandfather would've wanted you to do, and you couldn't give up just yet without trying for him.

After what feels like an eternity, Robin stops in her tracks and turns to face you, "This is Sunnyside farm."

Your negative thoughts resurface as soon as you lay eyes on the state of your grandfather's farm. Well, your farm now and sunny is certainly not one of the adjectives you would use to describe it. Your mouth visibly drops open in shock as you see the overgrown weeds in the yard, the twigs littered everywhere, and the generally poor state of the farm that looked like it had been abandoned for years--which was likely the reality. At that moment, you started wondering if it was too late to turn around and buy a ticket for the next bus back to Zuzu City and beg the devils overseeing Joja to take you back.

Your distress seemed evident to the woman standing beside you as Robin shoots you a concerned look, "What's the matter?"

You're still too shocked to answer, and Robin tries to reassure you with an optimistic expression, "Sure, it's a bit overgrown, but there's some good soil underneath that mess! With a little dedication, you'll have it cleaned up in no time."

"Of course...haha," you nod slowly, trying to convince yourself with your words.

Just then, a neatly dressed old man walks out of the cottage. He gives you a crinkly-eyed smile upon seeing your face and introduces himself, "Welcome, you must be the new farmer! I'm Lewis, mayor of Pelican Town."

You instinctively give a polite nod in greeting, not wanting to make a poor first impression on the mayor. Lewis studies you for a moment before continuing his speech with a chuckle, "You know, everyone's been asking about you. It's not every day that someone moves in. It's quite a big deal!"

You try to muster up as big of a smile as you can at the statement. Truthfully, the idea of being the center of attention has always made you quite uncomfortable. After all, it's way easier for your every mistake and flaw to be noticed when you're put under the spotlight. You were hoping that it would be easier to avoid other people in a smaller town, but you guessed you were wrong.

Thankfully, the mayor seems to change the topic, "So...you're moving into your grandfather's old cottage. It's a good house...very 'rustic.'"

Next to you, Robin lets out an amused laugh and voices out your exact thoughts, "Rustic? That's one way to put it...'crusty' might be a little more apt, though."

Lewis snaps his head around to face her with an offended expression, "Rude!"

Robin doesn't seem to mind as she giggles in response.

"Don't listen to her, Y/N. She's just trying to make you dissatisfied so you can buy one of her house upgrades," the mayor huffed.

The carpenter's eyes go wide for a moment before she turns her head away with a visible pout on her face and her arms crossed around her chest.

You look back and forth at their banter in awe. It was amazing how naturally they conversed and joked with one another, completely setting aside their differences in age and status. Back in the city, you hardly knew the neighbor you had lived next to for years in such close proximity. Everyone mindlessly went about their days, struggling to keep up with the corporate rat race. You guess this is what your grandpa meant by making connections with people in his letter.

Your train of thought was interrupted as the mayor turned his attention back to you, "Anyway...you must be tired from the long journey. You should get some rest. Tomorrow you ought to explore the town a bit and introduce yourself. The townspeople would appreciate that."

You feel relieved that he brought that to your attention, as you just notice how sore your legs are from all the walking. You sighed internally. You were tired and hadn't even begun a day of farm work yet.

You bid Robin and Lewis goodbye and enter the cottage. Surprisingly, the interior is pretty well-kept and as cozy as you remember from your childhood memories of visiting the farm. The house had only one room, but you didn't mind. It was similar to the one-room apartments you lived in except a whole lot cheaper. The room had only the essentials: a bed, a fireplace, a table, a drawer, a TV, and...a fake potted plant in the corner.

You settle in and unpack what little things you brought with you in your backpack. After you finish, you sprawl out across the bed and stare at the ceiling.

The faint, musky scent of wood in the room causes you to reminisce about the time you spent with your grandfather, one of the few joyful memories you have from childhood. Despite how others treated you, your grandfather was the only one who never expected anything of you and loved you unconditionally. He would pull you away during the summers to escape from the constant studying you were forced to do at home and just let you be a kid for once. As you grew up, you were pushed further and further away from him, being told that you had to focus on your "future" and couldn't waste your time on something as unproductive as seeing your dying grandfather. You were devastated when he passed away. You had lost the one true light in your life, and you regret never getting the chance to keep him company in his last moments and return the love he had so selflessly gifted you.

Nevertheless, he left his farm, his life, in your hands, and you wouldn't let him down.

Before you get ahead of yourself, you need to rest. Tomorrow, you plan to wake up early to remove all the weeds in the yard and plow the soil. Then, you would go into town to buy some seeds and possibly introduce yourself to some residents. With your game plan in mind, you shut your eyes and start counting sheep.

One sheep, two sheep, three sheep...

...

...nine hundred thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine sheep

You pry open your eyes in frustration, the faintest hues of purple already appearing in the sky outside your window. Maybe you were so used to your f*cked-up sleep schedule that it has become physically impossible to fall asleep earlier than 2 a.m. You've tried every possible sleeping position by now and know there's only one solution to your sleepless night...

...alcohol.

You wouldn't consider yourself an alcoholic by any means. As a Joja Corp slave, it was reasonable enough to get a drink or two every time you were overworked and exhausted...which was basically every day. Okay, maybe you're not making a very good case for yourself here.

You trudge over to your drawer and throw on a black jacket with your favorite band back in high school printed on the back. One thing you know for sure is that no matter where you go, there's got to be some alcohol somewhere, and this town is no exception. You aren't sure if you have mentally prepared yourself to socialize with anyone in this town yet, but hey, since you winged this whole farming thing, you're sure you can wing that too.

You are met with the warm night air outside when you leave the cottage. You rarely get a chance to take night strolls like this in the city, so you take your time to admire the view of the stars that were usually blocked by light pollution. In the silence of the night, you can hear the chirping chorus of cicadas, small critters rustling in the bushes, and your own steady footsteps crunching on the ground. You're starting to see the appeal of farm life, how it allows you to slow down and really appreciate the small things around you in contrast to the constant hustle and bustle of the big city.

You wander around the town for a bit, searching for a place that sells alcohol before you hear lively chatter coming from a certain direction. You walk towards it and find yourself face to face with a giant sign reading "Stardrop Saloon" hanging in front of a brick building. Perfect.

As you enter the saloon, the chatter dies down a bit as you become hyper-aware of people's eyes on you. You know it's just harmless curiosity at a new face in town, but you feel your palms becoming sweaty and your pulse rising nonetheless. You quicken your footsteps to reach the bar across the room, avoiding eye contact by staring down at your shoes.

You approach the bar and notice a girl with short, bright blue hair (that reminds you of one of those K-pop boy band members) working behind the counter. When she sees you, she flashes you a bright smile and walks over to you.

"Hey, it's good to see you! You must be the new farmer, right? I'm Emily, I work here as a bartender at the Stardrop Saloon. What can I get for you?"

Right away, you could see that she was one of those genuinely friendly and positive people. You know that you should have more of those people in your life, but it still feels a bit overwhelming at times to face someone with a beaming smile when you yourself were so much more withdrawn and awkward at times. It only reminds you of your shortcomings, and perhaps this way of thinking is a reflection of your parents' influence on you.

"It's nice to meet you Emily, I'm Y/N. I just moved here but you know that already..." you stumbled awkwardly, realizing that you were a lot more socially inept than you previously imagined. To prevent any further embarrassment, you had to cut your introduction short.

"Uh...and could I have a beer, please?" you smiled sheepishly.

"Drinking on the first day, huh?" the bartender asks while cracking a teasing smile.

You feel your face grow hot, and before you can formulate a coherent explanation, Emily lets out a soft laugh and pats your shoulder in reassurance, "I'm just joking. I won't judge, don't worry."

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding as you watched her return to work. You let your eyes wander around the saloon to take mental notes of all the people here that you would most likely have to meet someday.

You recognize your bus driver, an older lady with curly auburn hair, drinking the night away on the other side of the bar.

Behind the counter, there is a man with a fairly large mustache chatting with the other customers, who you assume to be the owner of the establishment.

You spot an interesting trio of teenagers playing pool in the other room. On one end of the pool table, you see a kid with raven hair styled into an emo shag while adorning black from head to toe, reminding you of your high school days. The dark-haired kid keeps calm and cool, lining up the cue stick with sharp precision and never betraying a single emotion on his face throughout the game. On the other end is a blonde kid with his hair sticking up so straight it makes you wonder how many pounds of hair gel he uses when getting ready in the morning. Unlike his emo counterpart, he freely expresses whatever he is feeling, whining with every loss and pumping his fists in excitement whenever he sees a chance to beat his opponent. On the couch, a girl with long purple hair observes their game with an amused grin. All three of them look like they could be members of some kind of rock band, and you wonder if you could bond with them using what little knowledge you have left of the alternative rock bands you were crazy about in high school. The girl's eyes eventually trail over to yours, meeting your gaze with slightly furrowed brows as if asking, "what are you looking at?" and you immediately snap your head the other way.

You internally scold yourself for staring too long, probably seeming like a creep. Thankfully, Emily unknowingly saves you by handing you your beer. You take a shot and feel the warm, bitter liquid pouring down your throat. It takes a few more sips to feel a slight buzz course through your bloodstream.

As the night grows on, the saloon grows livelier, with more unfamiliar people pouring through the door. You had already met a few of the townspeople that came up to you tonight. There was a man named Clint who introduced himself as the town blacksmith, but you did notice that he was a bit distracted throughout your conversation as he kept stealing glances at the blue-haired bartender. Next, there was Pierre, the general store owner who offered to do business with you by purchasing your crops in exchange for buying his seeds. Robin had approached you accompanied by a man you assumed to be her husband. Finally, a beautiful woman named Leah tried to initiate small talk by asking why you decided to become a farmer. You gave a vague response of wanting some change in your life since you didn't quite know the reason yourself, but the woman seemed satisfied with your answer.

By the end, you had to admit that your social battery was draining out. Sitting in the middle of the bar, you start to feel overwhelmed as more patrons crowd around you, chatting away. Your eyes dart around the room, desperately in search of a quieter corner to continue your drinking.

That's when you spot him. Leaning up against the wall next to the fireplace is a man with side-swept purple hair and a bit of stubble on his chin. He has a short and burly stature and seems to be at least in his late twenties. His appearance is messy and unkept, likely due to exhaustion, as evident by the dark circles under his eyes. He wears a neon green and white jersey that you recognize as the Zuzu City Tunnelers uniform with a wrinkly, blue jacket on top that nearly makes you gag when you catch a glimpse of the ugly Joja logo plastered on it. Unlike the other residents of Pelican Town, he gives off a glum and unapproachable aura. Strangely, you feel drawn to the mysterious man and his dark nature, maybe because he reminds you of how you used to be.  

You slowly approach him, and he meets your gaze with piercing, dark eyes that send a shiver down your spine. You hesitantly stand next to him and open your mouth to speak, "Hey, do you mind if I stand here? This area feels quieter..."

The man doesn't acknowledge your question and merely continues sipping his beer.

After a few moments of awkward silence and beer sipping, you work up the courage to introduce yourself to the man.

"Hey, I'm Y/N. I just moved into Pelican Town today. What's your na--"

The man bluntly cuts you off before you can even finish your sentence with a harsh voice, "I don't know you. Why are you even talking to me? Just f*ck off."

You look up in shock to see the man glaring at you with a deep scowl.

You know that look well. A look of disgust, disdain, and disappointment like they were looking at some pest crawling up their leg. A look that suddenly makes you feel so small and worthless, reminding you that you are nothing more than an insect to be crushed at people's feet.

You feel a familiar sensation creep up your spine, your body growing hot yet simultaneously breaking out in cold sweat. A wave of nausea washes over you, your stomach twists in fear, tears prickle at the corner of your eyes, breathing starts feeling more difficult, the hands you balled into fists start shaking uncontrollably, and a string of apologies are barely being held back at the tip of your tongue.

"No matter how hard you try, you'll never change," spat the voice inside your head, "you're too weak, scared, and worthless to take control of your life."

"A doormat. That's all you were and all you will be. A doormat for people to step all over, wipe all their dirt and grime on."

Growing up, you were frequently called too nice by your peers, the perfectly obedient daughter by your relatives, the perfectly compliant worker by your boss, and the perfectly submissive partner by your ex.  The truth is you were a doormat, a coward. Someone too scared to say no. Too scared to let people down. Too scared to take control of your life, to choose your own happiness.

You've barely made a single decision of your own in all your years of living. First, you were controlled by your parents, then your boss, then your ex. Working hard to become a programmer was never your choice, giving up all your free time to work overtime at Joja was never your choice, and moving in with your ex just to be his personal maid while he went out partying was never your choice. Packing everything up to leave your life in the city was one of your first real instances of autonomy.

No, no, no. You were supposed to leave behind everything you despised, including the person you used to be. This was supposed to be a fresh start, but you feel your old self and your past trauma threatening to swallow you whole again.

You think about your grandfather. What he would've wanted you to do in this moment. He would've told you to stand your ground like the strong girl he knows you are.

You take a deep breath and face the man's glare head-on with defiance in your eyes. Your whole body shakes as you speak the words you have been waiting to say all these years.

"You don't get to speak to me like that," you say, voice steadily growing louder, "I was just introducing myself out of politeness. It's not like I'm thrilled to talk to you either. Even if you don't feel like talking, there's no need to be an a$$ about it."

The conversations around you die down as people turn their attention to the obvious air of tension between the two of you. An indiscernible emotion flickers across his eyes before the man trudges out of the saloon with a grunt.

Your shoulders relax, and you let out a sigh of relief. The relief you feel is short-lived, though, as it quickly turns into embarrassment after noticing all the eyes on you. You internally curse yourself for making a fool of yourself on your first day.  

You feel a gentle hand on your shoulder, and you turn to see Emily offering you a soft smile.

"Sorry about that, that's Shane. He usually doesn't like to be bothered by anyone, so it's nothing personal," she gives you a thumbs up, "That was brave of you, though. I think it was something he needed to hear."

You finish your beer and pay the tab, quickly leaving the saloon. On your walk home, you try to sort out the mixed emotions in your chest. On one hand, you feel a bit shameful for causing a scene and killing the mood. On the other hand, you feel a tiny bit proud of yourself for not succumbing to your old habits.

"I did it, gramps," you whisper, gazing up at the twinkling night sky with a smile.

You had just taken a step closer to winning the battle against yourself.

A/N: Hello! I've been absolutely obsessed with Shane as of recent (I love my depressed chicken boi), so I decided to get off my butt and write fanfiction for once in my life. The reader is based off of some of my own traits and struggles in life. I hope she can resonate with some of you, and sorry to others anyone who doesn't like her character, she's less of an optimist and more on the gloomy side like Shane. I hope you all enjoy the story. Writing used to be one of my dreams, and it means a lot to me! :)

#stardew valley #stardew shane #stardew valley x reader #stardew valley x farmer #stardew valley shane #stardew shane x reader #stardew valley shane x reader #stardew fanfic #stardew farmer #stardew valley fanfic #stardew fanfiction #stardew valley fanfiction #shane x reader #shane x farmer #stardew valley bachelors #sdv shane #sdv #sdv fanfic #sdv x reader #sdv x farmer #sdv shane x reader #sdv shane x farmer #enemies to lovers #shane

[pumpkakin]

Another snippet because why not! This might be the first story I started writing in the empires/hermitcraft sphere, and it's what got me into shipping lmao. Flower husbands will always have a place in my heart.

Anyways, this is from an au where 3rd life Jimmy wakes up in Empires s1 after he dies. It's the opening scene :)

words: 1074 cw: none

-

There is a familiar heat beating down on him. Desert heat.

It presses down on his head, his back, his shoulders. It would be unbearable if he weren’t so used to it. The air he breathes is so dry it catches in his throat, and the wind whips sand against his skin, stinging, and buries it in his feathers.

He supposes it is only right that he wakes up here, in a desert. He died in one after all.

(Secretly, he wishes he was somewhere else, where the warmth was a comfort and not danger, where water lapped gently at its shore and flowers swayed in the whispering wind.)

Jimmy opens his eyes and golden sand stretches endlessly in front of him, lapping dunes like a great ocean. The world sways and shimmies in the heat. He can’t see anything on the horizon, no pride rock, no dilapidated bunker. Not even the distant forests that edged the Red Desert. None of the familiar landmarks he is used to. This desert is much, much larger than the one he left.

But there's something deep in his chest, tugging him forward, and he can do nothing else but follow.

He wonders, as he wanders his way north, if he can die in the afterlife. He knows from experience that spending too long in the desert without supplies is a death sentence, but, strangely, he doesn’t really care. He feels a bit distant to his body, like it isn’t quite right or that he’s not fully inside of it. 

Well, this is death, Jimmy reminds himself. This body probably isn’t even real.

So he ignores his growing fatigue, the way his throat scratches with every swallow. He keeps walking.

The sun is getting low in the sky when something finally appears on the horizon: a great towering mountain of brown stone. It looks out of place in the endless gold of the desert, but Jimmy’s just glad to see something new. The world has melted into a blur of swaying colors, and he’s not sure if what he’s seeing is even real, but either way, he continues to stumble towards it, his feet dragging and breathing labored.

The mountain continues to grow, taller and taller, until it blocks out most of the horizon. Inexplicably, Jimmy knows that's where the feeling in his chest is guiding him. Maybe it will take him home.

There's a town settled at the base of it. He sees it as he crests the final dune. Tightly clustered, modular buildings made of smoothly carved sandstone. It’s colorful though, not just tan and beige like Scar and Grian’s base was. There are lanterns strung across roads, bright banners hanging from windows, and merchant carts painted with all the colors imaginable. He can hear, distantly, a growing chatter and a snatch of song.

His thirst is back, so sharp it cuts through the fog in his mind. It brings all of its fellow aches with it. His cheeks and shoulders are burning, and his legs and arms and wings are so heavy they drag on the ground. When he takes a step, he stumbles and goes tumbling down the hill.

It’s hard to keep track of what happens after that. He comes to a stop at some point, but the world is still spinning. He tries to stand back up, to keep walking, but his body feels like it's made of wet clay, so heavy he can’t lift it. His ears are ringing, but he can hear voices yelling and it makes his weary heart sing a song of danger.

When hands land on him, he lashes out, though he is too weak to do more than lightly smack at the hands. Whoever is holding him pays him no mind, and they swiftly lift him up. The sudden rocking movement makes him nauseous, and his eyes roll back as his mind swims.

Things are quiet after that.

He comes back to himself much later. There’s something cold laying on his forehead, a dribble of something sweet and cool slipping past his lips. It washes through him like a dip in cold water, and he sighs his pleasure. A soft voice is muttering something far away, but he doesn’t care to understand what they are trying to say. He is so tired.

But he can’t just lay here. In his mind, he sees green eyes, crinkled at the corner. He sees a dimple at the corner of pink lips, and he sees a poppy nestled in soft blue hair. A sharp, stinging longing erupts in his chest, and he needs to get up, to walk.

He has to go home.

His eyes slip open, and it feels like the hardest thing he’s ever done. They sting. His whole body stings, actually, like his skin has been replaced with a blanket of hurt. He struggles to push himself up, gritting his teeth through the pain, but his arms are too weak to hold him up. When he tries again, a firm hand on his shoulder pushes him back down to the bed.

“No,” he rasps, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“You need to lay still,” the voice tells him. He doesn’t recognize it. “You’re in bad shape. You need to rest.”

“No,” he says again, shaking his head. The world is still swimming, a blur of shapes and colors he can’t make sense of. His stomach rolls with nausea. “I have to… go home.”

The unfamiliar voice shushes him and presses something to his lips. He lets the cool water wash down his throat, soothing the dry, burning ache. “We’ll get you home, traveller,” the voice soothes, “but right now, you are in no condition to be moving.”

“I have to be there,” he insists, breath hitching. “He’ll be waiting for me.”

“It will be alright,” the voice assures.

Jimmy wants to protest, wants to push away the gentle hands and leave. He wants to be there when Scott dies, wants to welcome him home, wrap him in his arms and never let go. It’s the least he can do.

But sleep is dragging at his eyes, long fingers wrapped around his shoulders. It’s hard to resist, especially when the voice starts to hum a soft song, soft hands smoothing over the damp rag on his forehead, knocked out of place from his attempts to sit up.

He doesn’t win the fight. Sleep takes him.

#i miss empires s1 yall #s2 was great but it didn't have the same vibe as s1 #i looooooooved the world and i liked making up unique cultures for each empire and this was gonna be my excuse to have someone get a tour #with a bit of angst because i simply cannot write anything with out a little bit of pain #wip excerpt #my writing #ribbit #flower husbands

[stevebabey]

another one! 📽 📽

imagine it’s summer and it’s hot and the sun is so toasty on your skin and steve feels restless and spontaneous so he suggests you go on a drive so you pack some driving snacks and hit the road. it somehow ends with you and steve at lovers lake (or a less traumatic lake for him poor lad lol) and y’all go for a dip, in your underwear or maybe, ya know, a lil skinny dipping shenanigans are in your future 😉 *in the summertime by mungo jerry plays*

okay ily ruby have fun and again congrats girl!!! xoxo

mmmmm we all deserve summertime steve for fuckin real obsessed with the vibes you have created in the studio today maddie ur brain so delicio 🌊 yet again, i cannot shut up for the life of me <3 i want to go swchimming w him so bad fr he’s such a summer bf

it’ll have been one of those sweltering nights where even the sheets feel too much and come morning, not one ounce of you wants to stay in bed and cuddle like you normally do because it’s stinkin’ hot and you’re fairly certain steve is already sweating lightly just pressed next to you— you tell him as much when he tries to sleepily cuddle you in closer, giving him a pout and a “s’too warm, stevie :(“ and steve can’t even disagree, he’s burning up in the heat of the sun through your windows - but there’s also a glimpse of blue blue sky stretching out endlessly, which means opportunity !

so he flops back, relents the space and stares at the ceiling while u stare at him, just observing him lovingly, counting every mole <3 he takes a minute of quiet contemplation, during which your back manages to get completely heated, pressed against the mattress, and you’re bout to complain bout it again when he blows a raspberry and turns his head to face you. “d’ya wanna go for a drive? :) nd maybe a swim?” and god, if that doesn’t sound like heaven- you’re nodding along before you even open your mouth but also, u gotta check in with him “you sure ya wanna swim, stevie?” and his eyes search your face for a moment, thinking about it properly, before he nods, a grateful smile pulling at his lips, “yeah, honey, we’ll drive outta hawkins to find a good spot- sound okay?”

overtop your swimsuit, you pick a nice pair of daisy-dukes that definitely catch steve’s eye for an extra second and you grin, having to shoo him into getting ready— and you meet him down in his car, rolling the windows down to combat the sun that’s letting out blistering hot heatwaves, making u long for a popsicle or anything icy really. steve’s out a couple minutes later, two towels over his shoulders and a— you sit up a bit straighter, spotting the picnic basket in his hands!!! he calls forward as he opens the trunk to put stuff in, “i thought we could have some snacks! make a lil picnic date of it!” and you chest bursts with warmth and love for him and you literally can’t say anything except, “you’re sorta incredible, steve harrington” and it’s just the thing to say to get that flushed colour on his cheeks that has nothing to do with the heat and all to do with what you do to him.

driving along, you desperately wish you had a camera if only to capture the image of steve beside you, windows down, the breeze ruffling his hair and the collar of his shirt which is unbuttoned dangerously low. you can see the thatch of chest hair against his tan chest, his collarbones that are honestly begging for a lovebite or maybe ten, those classic cool glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. you’re fairly certain you could look at him like this for hours- and he seems to return the sentiment fully, spending the drive torn between glancing at you in the passenger seat — one hand curled over your thigh, fingers drumming, and a happy grin on his face — and his eyes on the open road that takes you out of hawkins. the warm wind whips in through the windows and blankets you both in the glow of summer :)

steve ends up finding a nice swimming hole, 20 minutes out of hawkins, that’s part of one big river winding through the countryside. it’s busy, people swarming around the water like ants to honey, but that’s to be expected in the the heat of summer. you nd steve both instinctively steer clear of the crowd, wandering further up stream to see if you can find a sweet lil bay for just the two of you— and you manage to find another sweet lil spot that’s empty besides from you two and steve declares himself king of the beach, planting the picnic basket like a flag.

the heat is infinitely worse out of the car, without any wind to cool you off, and the trickling sounds of the river might be your greatest temptation, besides your boyfriend who’s wasted no time in tugging his shirt up and over his head. the sight of him in just those small swimming shorts, tan hairy thighs on display, might just rival the river for your attention. the water in the river moves about sluggishly, swirling around itself in a syrupy motion, and you know it’s about to be the best cool off of your life- you follow steve’s motions and shed off your shorts and shirt in record speed

steve’s already waiting for you in the shallows, water sloshing around his ankles noisily, and looking back at you he can’t resist the urge to let a little whistle when you drop your shorts — it earns him an endeared eye-roll that only makes his grin a little wider, his hand planting on his hips, “just enjoying the view, don’t mind me” so you take that as your cue to take off, feet splashing in the shallow water and you’re diving in without a moments hesitation— it’s freezing and the sensation of it zings every nerve til you’re unable to do anything but grin and curse when you come up because fuck, it’s cold. it’s fantastically cold.

steve’s still waiting in the shallows, that familiar smitten expression on his face as he watches you gasp at the temperature change and push back your soaked hair from your face, spin to look for him and grin wider when he comes into view. you paddle back in his direction, shaking off the droplets that collect at your chin. your feet find the bottom of the riverbed and you stand, against the push of the river, and hold out your hands for him, trying to coax him in to join you in the deeper parts of the river. because you know, it’s always a bit hard after everything, entering water again — you can still see the twisted up skin that stretches up his sides, faded with time, but a memory etched into his skin all the same.

steve takes a step out towards you, then another, then pauses and his eyes scour the water all around you— his expression already falling away to concern. you can sense his mothering sense rising up and try to quell it before he can voice any anxieties, “eyes on me, stevie” you say, with a wry grin and make grabby hands at him, encouraging him more- you can see the quick inhale he does before he pushes forward, eyes focused on you, your loving grin, your inviting hands, and he doesn’t stop til he can grab them with his own. you’re pushing off the riverbed instantly, legs up and around his waist and shifting so your hands circle around his neck, sweet murmurs about how you’re proud of him til steve is warm enough in the face that he simply has to dunk to both of you, his mischievous grin giving you warning just a second too late

you’re gasping, coughing just a bit when he pulls you both back up and you smack him in the chest— “you bastard! you- i can’t believe you—“ and when he sinks his knees a little deeper, you change your tone quick, clambering closer to him, “don’t you dare, steve, i swear, if you want remain in a loving relationship you will—” “gimme a kiss,” he interrupts and your head snaps from watching the cool water swirl around you to his face and he’s grinning, completely serious, his hands on your waist pulling you closer til he’s nosing along the damp plane of your neck, mumbling into it “kiss or get dunked. that’s the deal, sweetheart,” and then he presses a hot kiss under your jaw and pulls back to wait for you to make a decision. you sigh real heavy like it’s a chore, hanging your head back as you pretend to think about it with a loud “hmmmm” til you’re about sure he’s gonna dunk you again. your thighs tighten and you pull yourself up with your grip around his neck and give him exactly what he asked for :) then u guys eat ur picnic and it’s the perfect lil summertime date :) this is too long my god

#u said make this fluffy #i said what if this is about steve not liking swimming anymore #but you convincing him #I W A N T him bro #summertime steve always gets me #he's the bf that just loves to use the easy gravity in water to always hold you #its piggybacks all the time #its carrying u bridal style always #if u go swimming with the gang dustin YELLS at the two of you to stop being mushy constantly #sorry ran outta ideas for picnic #its there <3 its got lil sandwiches w the crusts (poorly) cut off #plus one chocolate bar that melted immediately #ok im done now #hope this itches the scratch u wanted maddie <3 #ruby's very own tour of hawkins #steve x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington drabble #stevie drabbles! #uhhhh no more tags #this is sorta just for maddie if anyone else enjoys it WAHOO

[bravecmatthews]

CROSSROADS - A MEMORY

i went down to the crossroads, fell down on my knees asked the lord for mercy, said help me if you please

📍 REDACTED

months had passed, each one dragging on with the weight of duty and the toll of war. cole found himself entrenched in a relentless rhythm – brief moments of chaos punctuated by long stretches of monotony. each day brought new challenges, each night a haunting reminder of the fragility of life. most deployments lasted no longer than seven or nine months, yet they were staring down the eleventh.

he woke up to the same unforgiving landscape every morning, a desolate expanse of dust and rublle that seemed to stretch on endlessly. not until they were on the move did the distant horizon seem to suddenly blur with the haze of uncertainty, air thick with the acrid scent of burning rubber as cole’s convoy rumbled forward. each bump in the road a jarring reminder of the dangers that lurked just beyond the safety of their vehicle. 

the sun cast long shadows across the barren landscape and cole's heart raced with a mixture of anticipation and fear as they approached the next checkpoint – a feeling he had become all too familiar with in recent years.

suddenly, the crackle of gunfire pierced the air. instinct kicked in as he navigated the treacherous roads, his hands moving with practiced precision as he scanned the horizon for any signs of danger. and then, in an instant, everything changed. 

the deafening roar of an explosion filled the air as shrapnel tore through the metal shell of the humvee. pain seared through cole's body as he was thrown against the dashboard, the world spinning wildly out of control. darkness closed in around him as consciousness slipped away, leaving behind a resounding silence.

📍 HELLTOWN, OHIO

even after all these years, the remnants of a former life lay scattered throughout the car. the ashtray overflowed with loose change and on the passenger seat lay a worn pack of marlboros. a half-empty bottle of gatorade rolled on the floorboard, its contents warm and stale – a relic of a simpler time, when thirst was quenched with reckless abandon.

on the dashboard sat a dirty beavers cap, its brim frayed and faded from years of use, and dog tags hung from the rearview mirror, their metal cool to the touch. this was the same truck he’d been driving since he first learned how to, it burned through gas like crazy but it was as close to an extension of himself as any, why rid himself of something useful.

as he passed the city limit sign, the familiar sights and sounds of home greeted him. despite his best efforts to break free, the magnetic pull of the town had drawn him back once more. it was as if helltown had a hold on him, refusing to let go – a constant reminder that some ties were stronger than others.

dusty roads stretched out before him, each pothole a jarring reminder of the town's decaying infrastructure, when suddenly his gaze caught on a familiar figure standing by the side of the road.

"kayla," he called out, the name feeling foreign on his tongue after so many years. she turned, her eyes widening in recognition as a hesitant smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "cole?" her voice was tinged with disbelief, as if she couldn't quite believe her eyes.

"the one and only," cole replied, his own smile mirroring hers as he leaned out the window. he could think of worse things and people to welcome him back home. “need a ride somewhere?" after all these years he wasn’t sure whether he should ask, but felt that he needed to do something, anything, to soon bridge the gap that had formed between them over the years.

kayla hesitated for a moment before nodding, her expression one of gratitude mixed with a hint of something he couldn’t quite dechipher. "yeah, actually. i'm meeting up with some … friends," she explained, her words hesitant as if she was unsure whether to accept his offer. “could you drop me by the bowling alley?”

"sure, hop in," cole replied, gesturing to the passenger seat beside him. as kayla climbed into the truck, cole couldn't help but feel a sense of déjà vu wash over him. it was as if no time had passed at all, and yet everything had changed. the years had changed them and molded them all into different people, but the bond once shared lingered in the air.

if he’d known then what would unfold after, would he have said or done something differently?

#▸ M E M O R I E S || braver than you think.

[leonsrightlations]

The Earth is Online Chapter 10

As expected, the road from E-City to S-City was blocked. Before he’d even reached the freeway, Tang Mo had gotten out of his car twice to push away the cars blocking the road and make a path.

That’s right. He alone pushed all those cars.

Following the Black Tower incident, Tang Mo had already noticed that, aside from his ability, his body’s condition and his psychological quality had also both enormously improved.

On the one hand was the transformation of his body’s condition - his strength had changed greatly, his vision had improved, his recovery ability had improved, and his skin had become as hard as iron.

When he tricked Qian Sankun into letting him go to the trunk to get clothing, Tang Mo had intentionally used the trunk’s lock button to test the degree of his skin’s hardness. The sharp lock button scratched the hollow of his palm but didn’t leave behind a wound, and even the pain was indistinct. As a result, Tang Mo decisively counter-attacked Qian Sankun. It was also due to the increase of his body’s quality that when Qian Sankun stabbed at his lower leg, the knife couldn’t pierce his bone and only left behind a trace of blood.

On the other hand, there was the increase in his psychological quality.

From childhood to adulthood, Tang Mo had never received a certificate of merit for being a good student, but neither had he done badly. He never committed petty theft and never even felt inclined to cheat at exams.

This was the first time he had killed someone. Even though it was a counter-attack driven by self-defense, he had lost control and killed Qian Sankun. This could also be considered murder.

However, aside from that split second of panic and helplessness, he quickly calmed down and considered the matter of what should be done next.

He didn’t know if it was because his body had been transformed and he had become cold-blooded or if he was just like this.

Tang Mo glanced at the book on the passenger seat out of the corner of his eye, then turned his line of sight, gaze undisturbed as he looked ahead and continued to drive.

Because he had to clear the road, an hour’s worth of travel was endlessly stretched out.

As the sky grew fish-belly white, [1] Tang Mo was just entering the limits of S-City and still hadn’t left the freeway. There were still two kilometers until the tollbooth and the freeway was blocked by a chain of seven rear-end collisions.

Tang Mo got out of the car and began pushing cars.

“Creak –”

On the freeway, devoid of all people, the sound of the tire’s fiction on the surface was loud and clear. The seven car pile-up was severe. The front four cars had been pressed flat, [2] twisted up with the freeway partition.

Tang Mo worked forward from the back, moving the cars aside one by one. He used half a day’s worth of strength and finally moved to the first car.

“It’s a luxury car?” Tang Mo laughed.

The first car was a Maserati sports car. The fire red car frame had now been crashed into pieces. After all, it was a luxury car and it had been completely crashed like this. The tires were embedded in the car and didn’t roll.

A cold and desolate autumn wind blew past. Tang Mo forcefully pushed aside the Maserati. Just as he was about to pull open his own car door, he suddenly stopped moving, turned his body, and focused his gaze. “Who is it?”

His answer was the rustling of the wind.

Tang Mo didn’t open the car door. He stood beside the car, finger pressing the match tattoo on his wrist. He coldly asked once again, “Who’s there?”

Still, no one appeared.

Tang Mo was not at all in a hurry. He walked step by step to the Maserati that had been pushed aside. His footsteps were very light. His body was tense, at all times prepared for potential change. His hand pressed against the scrap body of the Maserati and he was about to pull open the car door when he heard the sound of a trembling voice.

“I…I’ll come out. I’ll come out by myself. I don’t have any bad intentions.”

Tang Mo lifted his head and looked at the young man who walked out from behind the Maserati.

He was a black-haired youth with a height of about 1.8 meters. He was wearing a thin white shirt and jeans. His clothing had been cut to rags and was damp with many bloodstains. There were also several scars on his body, but they had all scabbed and were no longer bleeding.

In the cold wind, this person’s lips were frozen purple. He shook uncontrollably as he raised his hands and walked out from behind the car, looking in alarm at Tang Mo.

“I’m the owner of this car. I have no bad intentions. Just now, I saw you pushing cars. If I wanted to attack you, I definitely would’ve taken advantage of when you were pushing cars to strike.”

Tang Mo looked at him, sized him up for a moment, then said, “Just now when I was pushing the car, why didn’t I see you?”

The youth said, “I was hiding under the freeway. It’s extremely cold here. There’s a lot of grass there and it’s a bit warmer. Yesterday morning I drove from N-City back to S-City. When I’d almost reached S-City, for some reason the cars behind me all hit each other. When I woke up, I discovered that I’d been flung out of the car window. But surprisingly I didn’t die. Then I noticed…” His face showed a bit of fear. “I noticed that in the crashed cars, there weren’t any people, and there wasn’t even a drop of blood!”

Tang Mo gazed indifferently at him. Absolutely not relaxing his guard, he said, “They disappeared. When the Black Tower announced the start of the game, you might have lost consciousness due to the car accident. Right now, in the whole world, there are only five hundred million people left. The other people…” Tang Mo extended his hand and pointed his finger at those crashed cars. “Just like them, they inexplicably disappeared.”

The youth’s eyes widened in astonishment and he shivered in the cold wind. He looked at those cars that had crashed into his, then looked toward Tang Mo. In a small voice he said, “My home is in S-City. You’re going to S-City, right? Can…can you take me with you? I saw just now that you’re very strong and can push all these cars. Give me a ride, okay? After I get home I’ll give you money. Whatever amount you want, I’ll give it.”

Hearing these words, Tang Mo lightly laughed.

The youth was at a loss as he watched him.

Tang Mo said, “I need to go to S-City. It’s no big deal to give you a ride as well. However, do you think that right now money still has a use in this world?”

The youth stared blankly into space. His complexion gradually turned white, as if he only then realized he was on the verge of confronting a new kind of world.

Tang Mo got in the car and the youth sat in the passenger seat. Without batting an eye, Tang Mo picked up the book on the car seat and put it inside his seat. The moment after he put the book there, it slowly disappeared. Tang Mo was somewhat surprised, but quickly recovered his calm. He and the youth drove together toward S-City.

“My name is Li Wen.” The youth was wrapped tightly in a jacket Tang Mo had lent him. Shivering, he said, “Really, thank you. I’ve been awake for less than two hours. I ran to the tollbooth up ahead but there was no one there. I didn’t know what to do and just came back to my car. Not long passed before I saw you. You’re really strong. My windbreaker is in the car, but the car is all crushed up and there’s no way for me to get it out. I nearly froze to death.”

“My name is Tang Mo.” Tang Mo seemed to casually ask, “You’re not strong?”

Li Wen shook his head. “I shouldn’t be very strong. At any rate, I can’t push cars and can’t get my windbreaker out.”

“But you didn’t die. Isn’t that so?”

Li Wen heard this and looked vacantly at Tang Mo.

Tang Mo drove with one hand and lightly said, “You were in such a big car accident and not only did you survive, you didn’t even lose an arm or a leg…don’t you think something’s wrong?”

Li Wen was dumbfounded.

Tang Mo didn’t say much more. Li Wen also lowered his head, thinking who knows what. However, his feelings all showed on his face. Tang Mo glanced at him out of the corner of his eye and knew that this person was definitely considering what changes had happened to his body and how his recovery ability had become so strong that he hadn’t died.

Tang Mo seemed to be relaxed as he drove, but his attention was actually continually focused on Li Wen’s person.

At this kind of time, although it was safer to be alone, having a companion was even better. Li Wen should be the same as him, having also participated in a certain Black Tower game, survived, and obtained victory.

Tang Mo didn’t dare take this kind of person lightly. Relying only on his observation from just now, Li Wen seemed to really be a foolishly sweet second generation [3] and wasn’t any threat.

Additionally, if he really ignored the other, he might continue to stupidly stay on the freeway. Tang Mo truly felt…this person might be seeking death.

Li Wen said, “Tang Mo, can you tell me, when I was unconscious, did the Black Tower finally announce something?”

Tang Mo briefly elaborated on the proceedings of the Black Tower incident.

“You’re going to S-City to find a relative? I’m very familiar with S-City. Need help?” Li Wen asked.

Although Tang Mo had been to S-City several times, in the end, he wasn’t a native. It was comparatively difficult for him to find someone.

He said, “I need to go to North Jing to find a student. I only know her name. I plan to go first to the school to look for her file. If she’s not at school, then I’ll go to her home to look.” If she wasn’t at either of the two places, then he was powerless. This was all he could do for the spiritual weirdo.

Tang Mo didn’t say that he still planned to go find his close friend. Everyone has things they keep to themself.

He still couldn’t give his bare heart into Li Wen’s keeping. [4]

Li Wen said, “North Jing? That’s in Anding District. My home is in Anding District and that’s the school I went to junior high at. I’ll go with you, okay? That makes things easy.”

Tang Mo looked at Li Wen strangely.

Was he really this senseless, or was he so deeply shrewd and that he was hard to figure out?

Tang Mo thought about it and felt it was probably the former.

Wearing the jacket, Li Wen’s body grew warmer and he also spoke more.

“We’ll go down the freeway and first go to North Jing. When we get there we can first go look for this person. Do you know what class that little friend is in? If you know the class, looking will be easier. It’ll also be easier to find the file.”

Tang Mo said, “I only know her name. That’s right, she’s in first year.”

Li Wen nodded. “Knowing she’s in first year also makes looking a bit easier.”

Li Wen said a few more words. He hesitated a moment, but still couldn’t help but ask, “Can I ask, Tang Mo, do you know…in the end, what happened with the Black Tower? Why have some people disappeared and some people haven’t?”

Having said so much, Li Wen finally asked this question.

Li Wen had been unconscious from a car accident up until now. He had a day less than Tang Mo and lacked a lot of information. Him assisting Tang Mo was, on the one hand, because he was grateful to the other person for taking him to S-City. On the other hand, he wanted to gain intelligence and understand his current situation. However, asking like this showed he probably hadn’t participated in a Black Tower game.

Tang Mo faintly knit his brows.

Could people who hadn’t participated in games also survive?

He pursed his lips and pondered a moment, deciding how he should reply to Li Wen. But just when he was about to open his mouth, suddenly, a loud and clear, cheerful singing voice passed throughout all of S-City –

[Thank you, thank you, thank you. Let’s all say thank you. On this special day!] [5]

After the bright female voice, a chorus of children’s voices sounded. The cheerful, happy singing was incompatible with the deathly stillness of the city. Nevertheless, it sang without stopping. Tang Mo immediately braked. Li Wen raised his head in alarm, looking toward that enormous Black Tower floating over S-City’s center.

After singing once all the way through “Thanksgiving,” [6] the bright multicolored lights inside the Black Tower disappeared. Tang Mo held his breath, looking at that Black Tower.

Afterward, he heard –

[Ding dong! In A-Country’s first district, stowaway Fu Wenduo successfully opened the first floor of the Black Tower. In three minutes, all players in A-Country’s first district will begin to attack the tower!

Ding dong! In A-Country’s first district, stowaway Fu Wenduo successfully opened…

Ding dong! In A-Country’s first district, stowaway Fu Wenduo…]

The Black Tower’s broadcast the news three times for the first time.

Both of Tang Mo’s pupils widened and that line, “begin to attack the tower,” echoed unceasingly in his ears.

In the next instant, his vision suddenly went black and his whole person dropped downward.

[PREV] [TOC] [NEXT]

Translation Notes:

This marks the end of the first chapter of the official print edition! The first chapter was simply titled 'The Earth is Online.' Chapter Two is titled 'Official Players.'

[1] A way to describe the dingy light of dawn.

[2] Specifically, into a discus.

[3] A couple of things to explain here. “Foolishly sweet” is actually “foolish sweet white” which I guess is slang for someone (female) who is innocent and naive. “Second generation” is a specific reference to an era of children whose parents became rich during a Chinese economic boom in the 80’s.

[4] 推心置腹 - give your bare heart into someone’s keeping; to trust them completely

[5] This is originally in English.

[6] As in the holiday. I’ve never heard of such a nursery rhyme before.

#the earth is online #地球上线 #mo chen huan #translation #danmei #teio #10

[rex101111]

watched The Last Wish again today, cause the movie rocks, and decided to be a nerd about it.

alright so you know how the black forest changes its landscape and challenges to reach the star depending on who is holding the map? Right so after thinking about it and how much story potential that sort of things has, I came to the fairly general conclusion that each section, three in all every time, marks a place where the one going for the wish must either confront, come to terms with, or move past an aspect of their inner self before they reach the wish.

So, of course, that means its a fuel for fanfics and OC ideas and to apply that logic to blorbos from other shows. which i am going to do right now, because none of you can stop me. 

herein a few characters i have ideas for where i talk what three sections they’d have, and what they might would wish for or if they have a wish at all: (i invite and encourage reblogs with blorbo ideas, have fun!)

Baiken: (because of course im starting with her)

Sections: 1. Plains of Bloodshed; a long stretch of road where more and more shadowy enemies pop out of nowhere trying to kill you. The more that get cut down the more that pop back up, and the longer you stay the stronger they become. They always attack and there’s no way of getting them to stop, so you need to find the quickest way forward while striking down the minimal amount of people before the blood gets too thick to walk through.

2. Abyss Of Loss: A narrow bridge overlooking a gaping hole in the earth, from which one can hear hauntingly familiar voices. They beckon you to jump off the bridge to join them, to not bother trying to cross because there’s nothing on the other side anyway. As you get closer to the other side you can feel ghostly fingers weighing down your steps, until they suddenly let go when you finish crossing. Don’t look down.

3. Mirrors Of Longing: Visions of what could be, visions of what used to be, visiions of what will never be again. Memories of a home, of a town, of a festival. They rewind and repeat endlessly like broken VCRs. Looking at one for too long will make you want to sit down and just...watch. Watch forever, because you know as soon as you look away, it’ll all be gone.

Wish: Peace, or failing that a chance to cut the neck of the one who caused all her pain, whoever that actually is. If its after she finds Delilah...probably nothing.

Anji Mito (i promise its not all GG but i gotta)

sections: 1. Gate Of Truth: A mile high gate of shifting marble. Too smooth to climb, too hardy to break without serious firepower. At the gate stands a statue of a butterfly; on one wing written a question, and on the second wing a place for you to write your answer by speaking it aloud. Speak honestly and loudly for all around you to hear, and the door will open. Speak dishonestly, or speak meekly, and the next question will probe more deeply and more painfully in response. And the questions don’t take it easy on you to begin with.

2. Stairs Of Knowledge: A flight of stairs that seem to go on forever. With every step you take, another piece of information enters your head, and it repeats, over and over. It starts with simple trivia, and then long winded dumps of knowledge of things you never heard of, and then personal information of people you never met. All of this bouncing around the inside of your skull until you feel like its about to burst out. Share the information in full with the person next to you, and the noise of that particular bit stops. Good...if you’re not in a hurry.

3. Door Of Names: A door with a slate where a handle should be, and next to it a stack of name plates. Only your true name, the one which represents you wholly and completely, will act as a key. Each name carries an aspect of yourself, either true or false, and if you put the wrong name in the slate, it will shatter, and take that aspect of you with it. Anji Mito is among those slates. He doesn’t dare to touch it.

Wish: Immortality, or maybe to never be afraid again. Or maybe a quiet plot of earth where no one will ever bother Baiken ever again.

 Eri: 

sections: 1. Forest Of Fear: A dense forest covered in shadows. Crows and ravens pester from above relentlessly, the faster you run the more vicious they become. Stand and fight, in any way at all; pick up a stick or a rock, or even call for help, and the path out will show itself.

2. Hanging Cliffs: A nearly sheer rockface that needs to be climbed. The higher you climb, the less stable the handholds. Strong winds try to weaken your hold. But its never impossible, so long as you stop to catch your breath and gather your strength for the next step up. Voices on the wind will try to make you doubt your strength, make you fear what awaits on top. Don’t listen.

3. Heroes’ Hall: A long, marble hallway with pictures of faceless heroes adorning the walls. They are heroes you know, heroes you admire, heroes who saved you. Shadows of pain raise from floor to stop you, to bring you back to a pain from long ago. Take a deep breath, trust the heroes on the walls, use their strength. Cut your way through with a song in your heart, and a smile on your face.

Wish: Would probably be in the “I already have anything I could wish for” camp

#puss in boots the last wish #not gonna tag the characters in here because that'll clog things up i think #i kept thinking about this idea one the drive back from the theater

[galvus]

prompt: confluence • words: 476 • era: shadowbringers • [ masterpost ] an act or process of merging.

The sea of black and blue that swirled in every direction around her was dotted with glittering shards of memory.

The light that shone ahead caught their sharpened edges, and they glinted like glass under the midday sun, bringing a small amount of warmth to the interminable chill. Only for a time did the warmth linger, as memories tumbled past her in the shape of familiar faces. Tataru beamed at her, one of her small hands lifted into a wave that turned into an encouraging salute. She saw Urianger’s curious expression against a backdrop of beige stone that she recognized as Minfilia’s office. Behind him, at a distance, she saw a flash of familiar silver hair and heard a bright and boisterous laugh that made her heart tumble down into her belly.

Alphinaud and Alisaie floated alongside each other, coaxing her forward as they always had. Behind them, Thancred looked away, the slip of his memory shadowed. Y’shtola and Krile soared past, along with faces that left her heart aching.

Haurchefant.

Louisoix.

Between all of her comrades and the occasional companion, she caught glimpses of the places she’d visited across Hydaelyn. She saw Gridania, Ishgard, Ala Mhigo. She saw home with its white brick and its glittering blue harbor.

She saw a fireplace and a cup of hot chocolate. She saw the gleaming Gold Saucer.

But among all of the shards of glass, among all the well-kept memories, one stood out to her on the horizon. It first revealed itself with a flutter of golden hair, replaced with a bloodthirsty blue gaze. Beneath the delicate point of his chin dripped blood that glittered in shades of ruby red. Fire consumed Zenos’s face, turning his hair into tattered battle standards.

He stood above her weary body in shape alone, and when his lips parted, she could still hear Elidibus’s choice of words.

Annette pivoted as best she could, twisting around to instead glare out into nothingness.

The nothingness was warmer than the shade of her lover that she’d left behind. It welcomed her as she floated towards something distant and unknown.

Was this what the other Scions had seen once their souls abandoned their bodies? Had they floated endlessly between words, haunted by their various pasts? Had Alphinaud seen Ilberd? Had Urianger seen Moenbryda?

Had Thancred seen Minfilia?

Tears sparkled at the corners of her eyes.

Roads were paved with her mistakes. Mountains, carved from the earth by her failures. And all around her, stretching in every direction, were countless individuals who still looked to her as if she hung the sun in the sky.

She longed for darkness after the years of squinting into that very sun and making sharp-edged memories. But where she was going, she would not find it.

Still, even the exhausting light of an endless day would be preferable to being haunted.

#ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2022 #final fantasy xiv #ffxiv #ffxiv fic #type: ffxivwrite #oc: annette #mine: writing

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

Rapture

There is a certain rapture associated with the passage of time. In childhood, it was that moment of awe and fascination felt by your whole being the moment the new day began. As a young adult, it was that same sense of awe, but now you are aware of the passage of the days, each of which can feel less than the last, and soon you will look back on that as just one more day. Once, as a child, it was an absolute novelty to wake up and start school. By high school, waking up in the morning was something you did routinely, though still with the same breathless anticipation. And the feeling of anticipation, at its most intense, was that of being in a long-deferred and joyful wedding ceremony, looking toward the day of the actual wedding and feeling it draw closer.

But of course there are no weddings, or at least none that take place in the manner of weddings. But there is that same anticipation. The passage of days feels the same way: endless yet finite, stretching on with no end, never complete, like the endless stretch of a never-ending road to the horizon. And this is of course the opposite of the way we experience time, which feels like a train, whose passage is linear, whose passing away feels like a completed and finite process that has left you and begun to travel away from you once again. In this way, the passage of time can feel like the very process of aging, of loss, of passing away.

For all these reasons, in the past the feeling of rapture associated with the passage of time, as it was felt by young adults and young children, seemed both very strange and very special. But even this feeling of rapture is not all that is unique about it. The feeling of rapture is different, in the end, than the ordinary feeling of sadness, in which sadness is associated with the past and the future. When you are sad, you sometimes feel sadder about the past, because you can see the point at which your life took the wrong turn. When you are sad at the thought of the future, it's harder to explain. You don't exactly feel scared, though you do feel worried, because all the time is spent in the present, without the future to look forward to. You feel trapped in a situation with no escape. But with the future in mind, you find that you can always imagine what will come next. You can picture the next day, the following year, the following decade, and so on. Even the very small future is a bounded thing. The future is all of a piece, a single day that repeats itself endlessly.

There is this other, rarer emotion in connection with the future, a rarer feeling than even this sense of boundedness, this feeling that the future never ends: the sensation of looking forward to something which can never, in any circumstance, arrive, an eternal now of eternal hope, of a pure present which contains only the possibility of future things. I mean the very special feeling that the future does not begin. I mean that you cannot ever start a time which does not yet exist, no matter what the clock says.

And you can never go back, either.

#original fiction

[shivunin]

Echo Everywhere I Go

A New Year's (?) gift for my dear friend @star--nymph featuring a lovestruck Cullen and her Inquisitor Eurydice, whom I adore endlessly!

“Oh, dear; never saw you comin’.

Oh, my; look what you have done:

You’re my favorite song,

Always on the tip of my tongue.”

—The Civil Wars, “Tip of My Tongue”

Cullen had gotten used to not waking up alone. 

He wasn’t quite sure when that had happened. Waking alone had been a given every day since he’d left Honnleath—for most of his life. Sometime in the past few months, unbeknownst to him, he’d become accustomed to regular company. It was, perhaps, for this reason that he was perturbed to wake alone that morning. Cullen groaned and his hand patted over the sheet to confirm what he already knew: Eurydice was gone. 

Maker—barely awake and his head already ached, the sort of gripping headache at the base of his neck that felt like a heavy hand dug into the muscle. With a groan, Cullen rolled over into her nest of blankets and buried his face in her pillow. Eury’d left the bedding in a coil, as she often did, as if the blankets and sheets themselves were loath to let her go. 

Peaches and the smell of lightning newly struck; though she was gone, this part of her lingered. Better than the long trips when he waited anxiously for her return. Better than the inevitable morning in her absence when he rolled over and found the smell had faded again. 

Cullen took a deep breath, reveling in the warmth that clung to the sheets along with her scent, and gathered his will to rise for the day. 

Aching joints, stiff fingers, headache, and the throbbing rush of blood in his ears when he stood; the catalog of ills was automatic by now and he paid it little mind. He stretched quickly, ran his hand over the braided leather wrapped around his wrists, and dressed for the day. In truth, he wasn’t due for any of his morning duties for several hours yet, but there seemed little point in trying to return to bed now. He was awake; he might as well make use of the time he had. 

Cullen reached for his sword, propped between the bed and the nightstand. The leather bands were there, too, wrapped crosswise around the hilt of the sword. He couldn’t rest his hand on the hilt without thinking of Eurydice—which was precisely why he’d left them wrapped there. He traced the lines and bumps of the adornments after he’d secured the belt, relishing the faint roughness at the joints of the leather and the smooth, cool glass beads at either end. Only when he’d traced their lines did he climb down the ladder to the office below. 

The Inquisitor had left traces here, too—and thank the Maker for that—in the form of the various sachets he’d left tucked into his desk drawer along with her letters from the road. None of them were exceptionally long—his Eury was not given to wordiness—but unlike the formal missives, all the words on these pages were for Cullen alone. 

Ena’vun, they all began, and a little piece of her day would follow: a collection of herbs to ease the withdrawal symptoms, perhaps, or a brief description of something she’d seen. He needed the formal reports, of course; it was his job to read the formal reports. But the second letters were the ones he treasured, the ones he read over and over by the candlelight in his office or bedroom when she was far away from him. 

They were, every one of the pages, worn to softness at the creases from repeated folding and unfolding. Some of them—the ones filled with herbs—had no words at all, just a packet of leaves for Cullen to research. He saved these, too, even when they were empty. Sentimental, perhaps. Even so, he could not bring himself to throw even the blank letters away. Instead, he settled them under the others, tucking them carefully and neatly away, and looked forward to the next thing she would send him. 

Sometimes when he opened this drawer to find writing materials or to fish out one of the herb mixtures, Cullen would become caught by the sight of her handwriting on the page and lose track of his intended task entirely. Ena’vun, she called him, matter-of-fact, as if it were his name. Perhaps, to her, it was. He wondered often if she knew that the name seemed to echo in the hollow spaces of his chest every time she used it, if she knew that the flush it brought to his cheeks was the very least of what the epithet did to him. 

But no matter; this morning, he could at least look forward to seeing Eury later. There was always the war council meeting or walks along the ramparts. If all else failed, she would likely find her way to him when it was time to turn in for the night. Cullen pulled the appropriate sachet from the drawer now, hailed a messenger to send for hot water from the kitchens, and began to sift through his correspondence for the day. 

His fingers, wrapped around the hilt of his blade, traced often over the shapes of the leather she’d woven with her own hands, over the beads she’d carefully chosen just for him. And—while there was nobody there to see—Cullen allowed himself to smile. 

|

Cullen went into the great hall early, eyes scanning the corners and balconies for a snatch of silver hair, ears strained for the familiar husky voice. He found neither and pushed away the disappointment that wanted to rise in response. The Inquisitor was busy; of course she was. He shouldn’t expect her constant presence just because he desired it. And yet…

Two steaming cups of tea in Josephine’s office, one of them mostly drained. The diplomat was frowning, bent over some piece of correspondence when he pushed into the room. 

“A moment, Commander,” Josephine murmured, “Forgive me, but the wording here is delicate.”

“Of course,” Cullen said, and wandered closer to the desk, the notes on what he needed to discuss with her tucked under his arm. 

Ah—he’d forgotten breakfast again, hadn’t he? Cullen’s stomach protested this omission, though thankfully it did so quietly. He eyed the little plate of cakes at Josephine’s elbow, trying to decide if it would be rude to ask for one. The ambassador, without looking up, pressed a hand to the edge of the porcelain and pushed it closer to him. 

Thank the Maker. 

Cullen adjusted the papers under his arm so he wouldn’t drop them and carefully took a pastry from the ornate, gold-rimmed plate. It was sweet and heartier than it had initially looked. He would have to thank her when she was finished with her missive. 

For several long minutes, the room was filled only with the soft scratching of a quill on fine parchment, but at last the ambassador leaned back. Their conversation was not lengthy, but it was much faster than a series of messages would have been. Cullen scribbled the ambassador’s thoughts at the end of his own sheet of notes for consideration later and nodded to the pastries on her desk. 

“Thank you, Lady Montilyet. And thank you for the, ah—pastry.”

“Mmm,” the ambassador replied, glancing at the little plate, “The Inquisitor said you might be by this morning. She seemed convinced you would need something to eat, so I did not ask the kitchen assistants to remove them yet.”

He didn’t need to ask how Eurydice had known he would be here this morning; just last night, he’d told her about needing to meet with Josephine. They’d been on their customary evening walk, then, shortly before Eury had convinced him to leave work behind for the night. Cullen had left off his gloves, for his office had seemed cursed hot last night, and Eurydice’s soft hair had fluttered against the back of his hand in the mountain breeze.

When they’d paused to look out over the moonstruck expanse of snow, he’d gained her permission to loop his fingers through her pale, curling hair. Cullen loved every piece of her, but there was a particular reverence to touching that silken expanse. If Eurydice was cool, clear moonlight, true and purely herself down to her bones, her hair was like moonbeams, the first and most ephemeral pieces that he could hold of her. Last night, Cullen had made a gentle loop of the silvery strands over his first two fingers and kissed them with all the reverence of a knight pledging fealty against his liege’s signet. 

But—ah, that was all beside the point right now. He was fairly certain Josephine had just said something to him. 

“Eur—the Inquisitor was here?” Cullen asked, and glanced at the now-cool cup of tea, “When?”

“Just before you visited, in fact,” Josephine said, following his eyes to the mostly-empty teacup, “The Inquisitor said she needed to check something in her workshop, I believe.”

Just missed her. Flames; if he’d only walked more quickly from his office, he might have caught up to her here. Cullen resisted the urge to pout over it.

“Thank you, Ambassador,” Cullen said, with an abbreviated bow, and turned to go. 

He ignored Josephine’s quiet chuckle when he turned right at the stairs to the kitchen instead of going straight. 

Eurydice’s workshop wasn’t close to the great hall; she’d said it was in the depths of the castle for a reason. Even so, Cullen had hopes, as he jogged down sets of stairs and ducked between several half-crumbled doorways, that he hadn’t somehow missed her again. The door to the workshop was faintly unnerving, as always, but it was less effort now to raise his hand and knock than it might have been several months ago. His visits here were rare, but whenever he opened that door it seemed that the memory of Eurydice wearing his mantle hung about the room. It was a good memory—he called up the ghost of it half the times he belted the mantle on in the morning regardless—but it made this place somewhat less unsettling to visit. 

Cullen knocked on the door and waited for it to swing open. 

Nothing. 

He knocked again more hesitantly, half-wincing at the intrusion (was she working on something volatile? Was there something she couldn’t step away from, or—Maker—did she not want to see him?) but when he paused to listen he heard nothing at all. 

Ah—she must’ve left already. Flames; he shouldn’t have tried to track her down in the first place. She would find him when she was ready and not a moment sooner, and the longer he spent trekking around Skyhold the less time he spent at his work. 

Brow deeply furrowed, Cullen turned and began to climb the stairs back to the rest of the keep. 

Well—perhaps she’d gone to the stables. Right? Wasn’t it about that time of day? It wasn’t so far out of the way; he could just take that set of stairs up to the battlements just in case and…

Yes, that was what he would do. 

Slightly cheered, Cullen swung through the kitchens with a nod to the staff, trying not to look either as flushed or as anticipatory as he felt. His heart sped up as he neared the stables, listening for her rough voice, the faint smile he could hear in it whenever she spoke to the horses. It fell just as quickly when he neared the door and saw Hulk’s stall empty. His own mount, Knight, happily munched on what looked like an apple. 

Just missed her again—Cullen growled his frustration, but took a moment to pat Knight’s nose and murmur his apologies for being unable to take him out on a proper ride again. The horse was, of course, very neatly combed and brushed to a shine, not a hair out of place. He would have expected no less if Eury had been in here speaking to the mount, for she was more thorough even than Dennet himself. 

“I can’t say I’m not jealous,” he murmured to Knight, removing his glove to run his hand over the mount’s silken hide, “Foolish as that might be. Did she seem like she was having a good day, at least?”

The horse whickered, which—well, he wasn’t sure what he’d expected. He leaned his forehead against the horse’s for a moment, which Knight graciously tolerated before nosing at his hands for a treat. 

“Hold on, hold on—I’ll find something,” Cullen sighed, turning toward the shops. Ever a watchful eye, Bonny Sims held out a pouch of sugar cubes when he approached, which Cullen exchanged his handful of coppers for. 

“Here,” he told Knight, holding out a palmful of sweetness a moment later, “At least one of us ought to have what he wants, hm?” 

Knight’s ears twitched and he delicately took each cube from Cullen’s hand until it was damp and empty again. Sighing, Cullen moved to hang the bag out of Knight’s reach. He paused as the pouch string neared the nail. 

Eury had given Knight an apple. He knew she might disapprove of too many sweets for either creature, but…well. 

Carefully, Cullen stacked four cubes on the small shelf meant for a curry comb beside Hulk’s stall. Eury never rode for too long in the morning; she’d be back soon enough, and then she’d see that he’d left these for her.

He hoped. 

“Well,” he said, after he’d dragged out rearranging the tools hung by Knight’s stall for longer than necessary, “I suppose…I shall see you later?” 

Knight whickered again and butted his head against Cullen’s shoulder. Braced for just that, Cullen grunted and held his ground. 

“You too, you great oaf,” he murmured affectionately, reaching up to scratch the space where mane met skull, “I'll have time tomorrow for a ride. Would you like that?” 

Knight nosed at the mantle on Cullen’s shoulders, which he took for agreement. 

“Very well,” he said, stepping back at last, “Tomorrow then.” 

Cullen smoothed his hair and tugged the glove loose from his belt, then headed for the stairs up to the ramparts. He pulled the glove over his fingers swiftly, but drew the supple leather up over his wrists and forearms more slowly. With each inch, he traced the backs of his knuckles over the bumps and coils of the bracelets wound around his wrist. Each brush of his skin against the tightly-wound leather was another reminder of Eurydice, and a welcome one when he was missing her. 

Sighing faintly, Cullen gathered himself and stepped back into the dimly-lit office where any number of reports and missives and schedules waited. Soon enough, they’d see each other again; it was no emergency that he hadn’t spoken with her yet today. He just…needed to be patient. That was all. 

He set the stack of reports on the desk and peered down at them sightlessly for a moment, all the notes he’d made blurred into senseless smudges of black. 

Since the first moment he’d realized what he’d felt for her was attraction, Cullen had often asked himself why. Why had love found him now, when he hadn’t thought to want such a thing for so long? Why would she even want to spend time with him, flawed as he was? Why, on the rare days when he didn’t see her before she left, did he feel so wrong-footed all day?

It wasn’t in any way that she was a craving, he decided after some consideration, though of course he craved her presence; it was that his time with her was a foundation, and his feet felt unsteady on the ground without it. 

Patience; patience. Cullen knew how to be patient. Eury always came to him around noon, steady and unerring as the moons made their way across the sky. Soon enough, she would be here and everything would be right again. 

Patience.

|

His office grew suffocatingly warm over the course of the day, until Cullen finally conceded to shedding the mantle and tossing it over the chair he hardly used in the corner. Several scrolls slid slowly to the ground, disturbed by the weight of the cloth, but he paid them little mind. 

“And the scouts turned up nothing in their search?” he asked the messenger, who also looked uncomfortable.

“No, Commander,” she said, and shifted slightly, “I can…ask them to look again?”

“No,” Cullen grumbled, running a finger along the inside of his gorget, “If Scout Harding says there’s nothing, then there’s nothing. Maker. Alright—take this to the lieutenant responsible for the region. Bellows, was it? And tell her she needs to make absolutely certain that the fortifications for the camp can withstand a beast that size. If the scouts can’t track it, I won’t have it attacking in the night while half our soldiers are asleep.”

The messenger nodded, already saluting and backing toward the door. 

“Yes, Ser,” she said, and in a flash she was gone again. 

It had to be close to noon. Hadn’t it? The war room meeting had been canceled due to some piece of information Leliana needed to chase down and he’d been hip-deep in messengers ever since. That had been the last, thank the Maker. Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes for a moment. 

He needed to do something about this headache, he acknowledged reluctantly. It was just so cursed hot in here, sweat sticking loose strands of hair to the sides of his face, and he couldn’t seem to think straight. Fingers fumbling, Cullen slid the desk drawer slightly open and reached for one of the sachets of herbs—

“Commander!” a messenger cried, crashing through the door, “Quick!”

Cullen was running for the door before the man even finished his second word. 

|

In the valley below Skyhold, Cullen surveyed the wreckage of a dozen tents. 

“And this is where the fire began?” he asked grimly. He sat astride Knight, well aware that a step to the ground would send little plumes of ash to settle in his hair and clothes and cling to the cold sweat on his brow. He’d left in too much of a hurry to retrieve his mantle, and the bite of the colder air here was brutal. Hopefully, this visit would be brief. The damage had, after all, already been done. 

“Yes, ser,” the soldier said, looking across the burned segment, “First assumption was mages, but…”

“But?” Cullen asked. The soldier shook her head. 

“Had a pair of former templars here and neither of them felt the pull of magic.”

“Hmm,” Cullen said, leaning forward in the saddle and scanning the wreckage, “No, they’re right. The pattern’s all wrong. A mage would have made fire in an arc or a blast, so we would see clean swathes of flame or a radiating circle. This is neither—it must have jumped between the canvas somehow.”

“Most recent information involves a spilled lamp and a box of oil, ser, but we’ll keep you updated.”

“Very good,” Cullen said, peering up at the sky briefly. 

After the ride down from Skyhold, the meeting with the lieutenants responsible for this sector of the camp, a visit with those wounded in the fire, and this discussion, the sun was already well into its descent. 

“We can have a tent made up for you, Ser,” the soldier said, following his glance, “It would be no trouble.”

“No,” Cullen said at once, “With the loss of these, others will have need of shelter and sleep. No, I will return to Skyhold if this is the last of the business here. I can make it before full dark if I leave now.”

It was a perfectly logical answer. That it wasn’t the real answer—that in truth he balked at going a night more than he had to without Eury close by—was his business and nobody else’s. 

“Yes,” the soldier said, pressing a fist to her chest, “We will direct all reports to your office and the Nightingale’s.”

Cullen was away moments later, urging Knight into a trot and leaning forward slightly over the saddlehorn. Underneath the leather of his gloves, the bracelets she’d woven for him with her own hands pressed gently into the skin. They were a symbol of her love, a reminder of her, a touchstone to brush against when he didn’t have the real thing beside him.

But for so long all he’d had was the absence of her. Cullen had thought it was the best he could ever have, but now—after knowing the warmth of Eurydice curled up in bed beside him, after knowing the steadiness and joy of her rare smiles, absence could never be enough again. He would not allow it.

“Go, Knight!” Cullen called as soon as he was out of earshot of the sentries. The horse put his head down and broke into a gallop.

|

Nine o’clock on the dot. 

Without fail, that was the time she came to him in the evenings. Cullen brushed Knight down quickly, heart thudding in his ears, and offered another sugar cube before striding to his office. He knew that being late was not as dire as it felt. He knew there would be other times, that if they missed each other again for their nightly walk she would still be there this evening, most likely, or tomorrow. But it felt dire that he hadn’t seen her even once today. 

Dire enough that Cullen didn’t even have the capacity to worry over missing anybody this much. It seemed foolish to question something that simply was. He loved her; he missed her; it bothered him that he hadn’t seen her even once today, that all of their routines had been so carelessly disrupted. This feeling—missing her, the ever-present absence of her at his side—was like a word always on the tip of his tongue, but just out of reach; like something he was supposed to have remembered, but he’d failed to set it down in words before he forgot.

His boots thudded on the stone of the stairs. A trade caravan had blocked the way up the pass and he’d been trapped behind them for some time while their travel woes had been resolved. Night had long since fallen, and his time was running out. Soon he would miss her again, would be trapped in his empty office for hours all alone. Soon—

He swung the door to his office too hard and it slammed into the wall. Cullen winced at the crash and then froze, one hand outstretched, the other on the door jamb, because his office was not empty at all. 

At the other door, the Inquisitor waited, head turned to look at him. One bony hand clutched the edge of the wood and the other twined in her silvery hair, the strands locked in place around her fingers.

“Eurydice!” Cullen said in startlement, breathing heavily, “You’re here!” 

Her eye gleamed violet behind her long lashes, her hair, and—yes—the dark fur of his mantle, which she’d thrown around her shoulders and belted in place. Really, he ought to have known it would end up wrapped around her when he’d tossed it onto the desk chair and left it there.

“Ena’vun,” she said in her lovely, low voice, “You are being very loud.”

“Yes, I—didn’t want to be late.” 

Cullen took as deep a breath as he could manage and quietly, carefully shut the door again. Eury stood in place for a moment, all but perfectly still, until he crossed the room to her side. He itched to touch her, but waited until she’d turned to face him. As always, she took him in from chin to toe, eyes dancing swiftly. Cullen leaned an elbow against the doorframe while she looked, as much for balance as it was for something to do with the hand that itched to hold her. 

“I missed you today,” he told her quietly, and lifted a hand toward her hair, “May I?” 

She nodded once and leaned toward him slightly. Cullen wished, privately, that he’d removed the glove first so he could feel the softness of it against his fingers, but he hadn’t expected her to be inside his office. It was a reasonable enough substitute to press the curl carefully to his lips, to watch the way her pale eyelashes feathered over her eyes when he did.  When he breathed deeply this close to her, the soft smell of it filled his senses. Peaches; she always smelled faintly of peaches. Maker, how he’d missed her today. What a relief it was to see her now.

“I’m sorry I was late,” he told her, letting go carefully and watching the curl he’d kissed twine back when the rest, “We can go now.”

Eurydice began to walk and Cullen followed at her side, some nervous, pacing thing inside his chest settling down at last. His love had needed to do nothing specific to set his world back in its pace; she’d only needed to be here with him. Here and herself: dependable as apogee and perigee, as the soft, cool light through the hole in his ceiling when he woke from a nightmare. There was a rightness in being at her side, even in silence, even if it was only once in a whole, long day. 

The wind whistled over the ramparts, cooler than the air within Skyhold’s walls. It chilled the sweat on Cullen’s skin, which was a relief in and of itself. Gradually, his heart slowed and his breathing evened. When they’d passed Herald’s Rest and made the turn toward the tower, the back of her hand brushed against his. 

“I missed you, too, Ena'vun,” Eury told him quietly. 

Maker, how he loved the husky timbre of her voice. 

Alone, with only the two of them anywhere in sight, Cullen allowed himself a smile. In the still of night, under the cool, watchful light of the moon, the two of them walked on. 

For the first time in that long, lonely day, everything seemed to Cullen exactly as it should be.

|

Happy New Year, Kat (or late Merry Christmas lol)! I love Eury so much and I hope I've done her justice. When I think of the two of them, I always think that Cullen must pine for her constantly when she's not around (how could he not?), so that's what I wanted to write. Thank you for your friendship and for trusting me with your baby c: Here's to my favorite Lavellan and a kind year to come!

#eurydice lavellan #cullen rutherford #cullavellan #inquisitor lavellan #da fanfic #i feel like i should say more in the tags!!! but alas i have run out of words #i love eury thiiiiiiiiiis much #& thank you c: #sorry the formatting isn't very neat #cullen x lavellan #cullen x inquisitor

[yuniemaki]

Ningguang turns to look out the window. Trees and fields endlessly roll by as they cruise along the highway, like the fleeting yet vivid memories flowing through her mind’s eye. They are fond memories that she clutches tightly to her heart, fearing they will one day slip through her fingers like fine grains of sand.

Its contents? Only Ningguang knows. For they evoke a myriad of emotions bubbling in her chest, deep and powerful feelings that are a triad boss’ greatest weakness; the same weakness that she honed into bullets and fired into the heads of her own parents five years ago. 

The limousine slows to a crawl as it enters the hubbub of Liyue City, stopping at a red traffic light. The morning sun is now out in full force, its harsh rays beating down on cobblestone pavements, towering glass properties, and tar roads. A thousand people scurry about, ducking into buildings and tapping away on their phones; a synchronised orchestra playing the same discordant harmony over and over again.

“Do you know about Ouroboros, little Yuheng?” Ningguang murmurs, her gaze still fixed on the view.

“The serpent eating its own tail? Yeah.”

“Why do you think the serpent thought to eat its tail?”

She can feel the Yuheng’s questioning gaze boring a hole through her skull. Ningguang allows herself a small smile. “I posit this: the serpent ate its own tail so it would move no further.”

Staying put is simple. Moving forward is hard.

The traffic light turns green. The silence spins around itself, stretching into eternity, like a serpent biting its own tail.

Ningguang likes it this way.

Full chapter:

#genshin fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #beiguang #genshin fanfic #beidou x ningguang #mafia au

[jalira-is-bae]

From our first session of the Campaign.

As the sun beat down on Proteus and his horse, the golden fields of wheat seemed to stretch on endlessly before him. The gentle sway of the stalks and the soft rustle of leaves from the grape vines that lined the hills should have been a comforting sound, but they only added to his unease.

He urged his horse forward, his keen eyes scanning the empty fields for any sign of life. The once-thriving farmland now lay barren and deserted. Even the town greeter, who was usually the first to welcome visitors to the city, was nowhere to be seen.

Proteus frowned, his hand instinctively resting on the hilt of his sword. The people of this town were deeply religious and followed the rituals of Demeter with great reverence. But without the priest to lead them, they were lost.

As he rode towards the front gate, a single guard watched him wearily. The man's eyes darted nervously around, the tension in the air palpable.

"Where is everyone?" Proteus asked, dismounting from his horse.

The guard shook his head. "They're still in the city or at their homes on the outskirts. We haven't heard from the priest if the gods have deemed it time to harvest."

Proteus nodded gravely, understanding the gravity of the situation. To harvest without the approval of the gods could bring down curses and bad luck on the entire town. They needed to wait for the will of the gods.

But as he looked out at the empty fields, he knew that they couldn't wait forever. The crops were ripe and ready to be harvested, and the people needed the food to survive the coming winter.

Proteus took a deep breath and made a decision. He would find the priest of Demeter and bring him back to the town. They needed him to call for the harvests and ensure that the people were safe from the wrath of the gods.

With his sword at his side and his horse at his back, Proteus set out on a quest to find the missing priest. The road ahead was uncertain, but he was determined to fulfill his duty for the honor of Demeter and the safety of the people.

#Fantasy #Roleplaying #TTRPG #RPG #Gaming #Burning Wheel #Ancient #Greece #Campaign #Story #Writing #Proteus #Demeter #medieval #adventure

[shingekinohyrulewrites]

Angel of Mine

While driving home from work, you encounter a man in the middle of the road. You decide to take him home to restore him to health, only to find out he claims he is a fallen angel.

Read on AO3 here

THERE BE SMUT AHEAD 18+ ONLY PLEASE

You hated your commute.

Frowning, you clenched your steering wheeling tightly until your knuckles turned white. It was Friday, and you were stuck on the interstate headed out of the city. Red brake lights were the only thing you saw, with your car creeping slowly through the traffic. Sighing, you reached for the dial of the radio and raised the volume slightly.

You had spent your entire life living out in the country. The drive to the city never took longer than twenty minutes, but it was the drive back that sometimes took an hour. It was commonplace that everyone in the country had a job in the city, and, eventually, it was your turn to join the workforce. Five days out of the week, you worked a stuffy marketing job in an upscale building smack dab in the middle of the Downtown District. The pay was fantastic and your coworkers were starting to become like family to you.

It was just the commute that had you pulling your hair out.

Your coworkers kept insisting that you just buy a place closer to work but the thought had your stomach churning. It was difficult to just leave behind your home, a place full of memories and somewhere you felt safe. So you continued on with the commute, even if it drove you crazy.

Eventually, you pulled off the interstate and began driving down the familiar, isolated road. Humming along softly to Adele, you absently began to wonder what to watch on Netflix. Your Friday nights consisted of binge watching TV shows on your couch until you fell asleep. The road in front of you seemed to stretch endlessly for miles, your headlights shining brightly in the dark night. Your fingers tapped along to the slow beat of the music as you settled into a quiet haze as you continued driving.

You were quickly pulled out of your haze by a figure lying on the road.

Slamming on the brakes, you were slammed against your steering wheel, the impact immediately waking you up. A breath was ripped out of you, forcing a wheeze as you coughed and tried to remember how to breathe. Blinking, you watched the figure to scan for any sign of movement.

Nothing.

Is this person drunk?

It was Friday night after all, but you thought it was a little early to already be this sloshed. You sighed and set your car to park before cautiously exiting. Slowly, you approached the figure before calling out a timid hello.

No response.

You took another step closer. The headlights shone on the figure and you felt your heart drop. It was apparent that this person was hurt, with large gashes running down their bare back and dried blood smudged on their arms. Your eyes trailed upwards, landing on a tangle of dark hair. Hesitantly, you raised a hand and reached forward to shake the person’s shoulder.

“Hey, are you okay?” you asked, panic beginning to paint your tone.

Still no response.

By now, you were in full on panic mode. You knew you couldn’t just leave this poor helpless person here! Bending down, you grabbed their arm and wrapped it around your shoulder. Since they were passed out, they were basically dead weight. Grunting, you began to stand up, pulling the body with you.

It was at that moment that you realized two things: 1. That the figure was a man, and 2. That the man was naked.

Heat rushed to your face as you tried to keep your eyes above his waist.

It took you about ten minutes to finally get the body in the backseat of your car. You grabbed a blanket from your trunk and placed it on him, hoping to at least give him a shred of dignity. You clambered back into the driver’s seat and continued on with your drive home.

Dragging the unconscious man into your home and into the guest room took twenty minutes.

You were starting to regret your decision about saving him.

Sweat began to trickle down your face as you settled the man onto your bed. You tucked him in, settling the comforter around his bare chest and smoothing his hair back. He was extremely handsome, with tanned skin and sharp features. There was a hint of a frown on his brows, a few scratches around his high cheekbones that showed he had put up a fight.

“You poor thing,” you whispered to him.

You decided the best thing to do was to leave a bottle of water and ibuprofen, along with a note explaining that you had found him and that he had nothing to worry about. You paused in the doorway, giving him one last look before quietly closing the door and collapsing onto the couch.

***

You had been asleep no more than thirty minutes when you were awakened by a blood curdling scream. At first, you thought it was the TV, but you remembered you had fallen asleep without the TV on. It took you a moment to realize that the scream was coming from your guest room, and the realization had you scrambling towards it. Throwing open the door, you were shocked at the sight in front of you.

The man had awoken and was standing against the wall drawing strange symbols. Your eyes traced over it, tracing as he drew a vertical line before drawing a downward curve in the middle, finishing by adding two dots underneath. Bile began to rise in your throat as you realized what he was using to draw the symbols.

Blood. It was his own blood.

Blood stained your comforter, a fresh puddle seeping at the man’s feet as he continued to draw the same symbol over and over again in a daze. A hand flew to your mouth as you tried to fight the urge to gag, and you took a step back, afraid. Your voice got caught in your throat as you tried to process the situation in front of you.

“W-who . . . who . . . what are you doing?!”

Your voice cracked as you shrieked, but it was enough to get the man to stop. He seemed to break out of his daze then, slowly turning around to face you. Holding your breath, you took a step forward.

“Answer my question. Who are you and what the fuck are you doing?”

The man turned to face you in his full, naked glory. He began walking towards you slowly, putting one foot in front of the other as if it was a threat. You held your ground, trying to hide the fact that you were terrified as he approached you like a predator stalking his prey. He stopped until he was toe to toe with you. You realized at that moment that he towered over you, his brown eyes boring into yours. He continued to stare at you while you waited for an answer.

“I’m waiting,” you muttered.

He studied you for another minute before stepping away and turning around. You were once again face to face with the deep gashes on his back. But, up close now, you realized that something had been ripped off his back, leaving holes where whatever it was used to be. The bile rose in your throat again.

“My name is Akira. I was once a servant of God.”

He glanced at you over his shoulder.

“I was serving in His army but I was cast out.”

You blinked. And blinked again. And began to blink rapidly.

Is this man high?

When you didn’t receive a response, he turned to look at you again over his shoulder.

“Are you okay? I mean, you were pretty fucked up when I found you.”

Your family had been religious growing up but it had always been difficult for you to accept their beliefs. By the time you were eight, you realized you didn’t believe in a God or any type of mysterious, unknown figure. You respected peoples’ beliefs but religion just wasn’t your cup of tea.

“Foolish mortal.”

He was quick to turn around and face you, anger apparent in his eyes. You shrank down, realizing that you had said the wrong thing. A faint glow seemed to emanate from his body, his eyes seeming to grow wider as he glared down at you. Flinching, you brought your hands up in response and shielded your face.

There was a moment as you waited for him to strike but it never came. You slowly lowered your hands to find him staring sadly at you.

“I meant every word that I said. I was once an angel of God who served proudly in His army. My purpose was to protect Him with my life, and I was ready to die for Him.”

The frown that you recognized from his sleep touched his brow again.

“I . . . I was foolish. I was tricked and I -”

He shook his head furiously, indifference coating his features as he peered down at you.

“I sincerely thank you for saving me. I hope the Lord brings many blessings to you.”

You fought the urge to snicker and instead gave a stiff nod.

“In return, I need to ask you for a favor.”

You gave another stiff nod.

“Please protect me here in your home. Fallen angels face a very difficult life because we have endured God’s wrath and we are to be punished. Please, protect me with everything you have. I will find a way to repay you.”

The past hour had already been too much for you, and now the thought of having to shelter him? It was a bit too much, but the poor man had nowhere else to go, if you could believe what he said.

“Sure. That’s fine. Just clean my walls first.”

***

So began your unusual relationship with you and Angel Akira.

You left him alone the remainder of the weekend, checking on him in the morning and before bed. He apparently didn’t require any sustenance, as when you offered him food he would simply shake his head. Desperate to distract yourself from the situation, you tried to keep yourself busy. You spent Saturday binge watching Netflix, forcing your brain to focus on the screen instead of the guest room door. Sunday was dedicated to cleaning, your body aching and sweating from over exerting yourself.

After taking a shower, you began your nightly routine and began preparing for work. The thought of leaving Akira alone in your home left you concerned, so you absently thought about calling out. The supposed angel had yet to provide any more information to you, and he instead stayed locked in the guest room. Sighing, you sent a text to your boss saying you had gotten food poisoning before steeling yourself to knock on the guest room door.

There was only a second before Akira opened the door. He seemed much calmer than the first night, no longer naked and instead wearing old clothes from an old hookup. The wounds on his back had finally stopped bleeding, and he seemed more at ease.

“Hi. Sorry to bother you.”

He shook his head, dark eyes studying you intently as you scrambled to find the right words to say.

“Um, I called out of work. We need to come up with a plan for you.”

Nodding, he stepped aside, gesturing for you to return. You hesitantly stepped in, your walls clean of his blood and looking brand new. The bed was neat, as if he hadn’t slept in it at all. Confused, you turned around to gaze at him.

“Akira, have you slept at all?”

“I do not require sleep,” he sighed. “Or food, since you’ve offered it before.”

“Well, then,” you frowned.

You sat carefully at the edge of the bed, crossing your legs awkwardly.

“Akira, what is going to happen to you?”

He let out another sigh.

“I do not know. God never spoke of what happened to fallen angels.”

A look of despair crossed his face, and he abruptly looked away.

“Well, he only spoke of one.”

“Lucifer?” you answered automatically, raising an eyebrow.

He seemed to flinch at the name, shaking his head furiously before sending you a warning look.

“You do know that Lucifer was God’s favorite, right?” you asked.

Akira sighed, sinking onto the bed beside you.

“Yes, we all knew. I was friends with Lucifer, many centuries ago. He was bright but cunning, which is what led to his downfall. I always recall him sitting by God’s throne, seeming content.”

He turned to look at you, face seeming to darken.

“The last thing he told us before God cast us out was that he would return. He warned God that he would take his revenge through another fallen angel. He staked a claim to all fallen angels, and said they would join his army.”

Akira stood abruptly then, eyes wide as he shook his head.

"But I refuse! The only one I wish to serve is God!”

“Hey, Akira,” you tried to calm him down, grabbing his arm gently and shushing him.

He visibly relaxed, sinking back onto the bed.

“Will you protect me? If Lucifer comes to seek me out?”

You nodded, feeling as if your voice would betray you. He seemed relieved, nodding before he turned and whispered a quiet thank you.

***

As the weeks passed, you took note that Akira was becoming less angel and more mortal.

It began nine days after you found him. While at work, you left Akira with books about the modern world, asking him to take notes so he could ask you questions over dinner. Since he didn’t sleep, he worked quickly through the books, soaking up the information and catching on fairly fast.

However, on that ninth day, you noticed he looked a little . . . tired. When you came home from work, you found him on the couch, head falling forward as his eyes were heavy. Concerned, you bustled over to him, crouching in front of him as you grabbed his face and turned it side to side.

“Akira? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

“I’m incredibly exhausted. I think I’m exhausted? I remember that term in the medical textbook you gave me. My body feels incredibly heavy and my mind is hazy.”

He shook his head in an effort to clear it but failed.

“I fear that I am becoming mortal. My body is adjusting but it’s draining it.”

With that, he fell into a deep sleep. Sighing, you adjusted his body so he was laying down and covered him with a blanket. You went on with the rest of your day, busying yourself with cooking dinner before showering and collapsing into bed.

You awoke after two in the morning to the sound of rustling. Confused and slightly afraid, you crept into the hallway, following the noise. The light of the fridge provided you with a clearer view of the kitchen, and you let out a sigh of relief at noting Akira.

It quickly shifted to puzzlement.

“Akira?” you called out, cautiously approaching him.

His head whipped around, a leftover sandwich from the weekend hanging from his mouth. Embarrassed at getting caught, he slowly removed it from his mouth, chewing quickly before swallowing.

“Er, hello.”

“What are you doing?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“Well, it’s the funniest thing. After sleeping for the first time, I woke up ravenous. That’s another word I learned from your books!”

He grinned, seemingly proud of himself as he puffed out his chest.

“My stomach was burning as if it was on fire. I remembered that you keep food in here so I rummaged about to find anything.”

You walked past him, pushing him aside to check your fridge. Gasping, you were startled to see that it was nearly empty.

"Akira, what the fuck?!”

Sheepish, he rubbed the back of his head, giving you a quiet apology.

“I shall get you more?”

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you let out an irritated exhale before turning to give him a thin-lipped smile.

“It’s okay,” you bit out through gritted teeth.

He finished the sandwich in one bite, giving you another sheepish smile before closing the fridge door.

“I, uh, shall go back to my room. I shall see you in the morning.”

Three days after that incident, he began to complain of stomach aches and lower back pain. When you approached him to check him, you caught a whiff of his scent and recoiled.

“Is something the matter?”

“Dude, you reek. When’s the last time you took a shower?”

“Never,” he replied brightly. “I don’t need to.”

You wrinkled your nose. “Well you do now. Come on, I’ll start a shower for you.”

Grabbing his wrist, you led him towards the bathroom. You turned on the water, waiting for him to warm up as you rummaged through the cabinet for an extra towel and a fresh bar of soap. Once the water was warm, you adjusted it so it was just right before turning around to Akira.

“Okay, here you go. Showering should be-”

Your words trailed off. Akira was standing naked before you, blinking at you as he waited for you to finish your sentence. Mouth going dry, you tried your hardest to keep your eyes fixated above his waist. There was no denying that Akira was attractive, but you reminded yourself you were doing him a favor.

“Um, take your time. I’ll be in the living room.”

Akira took a thirty minute shower, and when he stepped out in a plain black T-shirt and sweats, you could smell how different he was now. The smell of the soap was prominent, but there was a hint of something . . . new. You sniffed the air discreetly, and realized he had a pine smell, as if you were walking through a fresh forest.

“Showering is so refreshing,” he mused. “I can see why you mortals do it so often.”

Time continued to pass on, and he adjusted to “mortal life” easily. He had finished the books you had and was yearning to get more, but you were afraid to let him leave your house. One night, over a meal of Chinese takeout, he broached an idea with you.

“I understand this might be asking for too much,” he began. “But what if I accompany you to work but you leave me elsewhere?”

You froze, chopsticks halfway to your mouth.

“I was thinking you could leave me at the library. The books there are vast and I yearn to learn more. Plus, I’m sure there are other topics I could learn about that you have yet to teach me.”

“I don’t know,” you sighed. “What if someone finds you?”

“It’s been almost a month. If God had been looking for me, He would have by now. Do not fret.”

A sad look crossed his face.

“I . . . can only assume He has forgotten about me.”

Biting your lip, you sighed again.

“We can try it out tomorrow.”

The next morning, he climbed into your car, eyes wide as he stared out the window as you began your usual commute. He would ask questions from time to time about the landscape or about something he would hear on the radio. Despite the heavy traffic, you found yourself relaxing and falling into an easy conversation with him.

Just like you promised, you dropped him off at the library, giving him twenty dollars to get some lunch.

“I will come here as soon as I can after work,” you said. “Please be careful and try not to be weird please.”

Smiling, he waved goodbye before turning and rushing into the library. You watched him until he walked in, anxiety building in your throat as you began to drive away. Your entire shift you were distracted, wondering what Akira was doing and if he was okay. You hoped that no one had caught on to what he really was (although you were sure anyone would think he was crazy) and that he was enjoying himself.

Thankfully, your boss let you go early, and you rushed back to the library. Pulling into a parking spot, you ran in, slowing down as you scanned the rows of books. You found him near the back, reading a book about the history of your town with a neat stack next to him. Upon hearing you approach he lifted his head, flashing you a smile before closing the book shut.

“How does one get a library card?” he whispered. “The signs say you need one to check out books.”

“I can help you,” you whispered back, holding out your hand for him to take.

Akira ended up checking out eight books, much to the librarian’s shock. He promised her he would return them by the end of the week, to which she reluctantly agreed. On the drive home, he chattered on about everything he had read, about the new things he had learned, and how immensely happy he was.

“I shall stay home tomorrow to read,” he proclaimed.

Thus began another shift to your daily routines. He would go to the library once he finished his stack, which usually took two or three days. The librarian, apparently, was happy to see him, and the two struck up an unlikely friendship.

Another month passed. One day, after picking Akira up from the library, he practically threw himself into your car, excitement written all over his face.

“I found a way to repay you for everything that you’ve done!” he declared.

Confused, you gestured for him to continue.

“The librarian offered me a job! She said I’m just the man for it.”

“Akira, that’s amazing!”

You leaned across the center console to pull him into a hug. He was startled at your touch before relaxing and wrapping a pair of strong arms around you. His smell immediately flooded your senses, mind going fuzzy at how amazing he smelled. After a moment, he pulled apart, an unfamiliar tender expression touching his features.

“Words cannot express how thankful I am for you. Thank you, for everything. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks and you suddenly couldn’t look at him. You stuttered out a thanks, starting the car and making the familiar drive back home. The ride was quiet, and you suddenly realized you could feel the heat emanating from his body. Once you arrived home, he quietly went to his room, shutting the door and not leaving for the remainder of the night.

As you lay in bed later, your mind kept replaying the way he hugged you and the affectionate way he had looked at you. Your cheeks kept getting warmer and warmer the more you thought about him, and you reached up to cover your face with your hands.

“I cannot be falling for him,” you muttered to yourself.

***

Akira settled into working life easily.

The librarian had nothing but wonderful things to say about him, remarking that he worked quickly and was very well informed. He was able to help out anyone who came through the doors with finding books, and many of the patrons continued to return just to see him. His paychecks would go to you, but you always made sure to give him at least half.

Your relationship had shifted, with the two of you becoming more affectionate and trying to do more activities together. The two of you had developed a nightly routine where you would curl up on the couch, with him reading and you watching TV. You would share a blanket, sitting close to each other, your knees often touching. Sometimes, you would catch him staring longingly at you from the corner of your eye, and the sight would make your heart ache.

Somewhere along the way, you had fallen for Akira the Angel.

***

The storm outside was relentless, the thunder shaking your windows and the lightning flashes brightening up your dark room. You tossed and turned, trying to relax but the stress of the storm kept you awake. Sighing, you decided to get up and drink some water, hoping the action would somehow make you tired.

Flicking on your nightstand lamp, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed. Just as your feet touched the floor, the bulb flickered before sending your room into darkness. The sound of the electronics in your room shutting down had you panicking as you realized the power went out.

You stepped out into the doorway, hoping to get a lighter from the kitchen to light the candles in your room. The sound of the guest room door squeaking open caught your attention, and you heard the sound of Akira’s feet shuffling along the floor. There was a pause before he called out your name.

“Are you okay?” he asked, concern evident in his voice.

“Yeah, I can’t sleep.”

There was a pause before he spoke again.

“Do you . . . need some help?”

“I wanted to get a lighter from the kitchen,” you replied.

You heard his feet moving along the floor before you heard him shuffling about in the kitchen. His footsteps got closer until he was standing in front of you. Tilting your head up, you peered at him in the darkness. He handed you the lighter, giving you a small smile.

“Thanks.”

You quickly lit the candles before sitting cross legged on your bed. Akira lingered in the doorway, seemingly hesitant to enter. Smiling, you patted the bed, and he slowly made his way towards you. He sank next to you, staring at you before giving you a shy smile.

A sudden crack of lightning had you jumping, and you instinctively dove towards him. His arms opened immediately and he pulled you towards his chest, one hand stroking your hair while the other rubbed your back. Your heart was pounding from the lightning but was now beating faster due to the close proximity. The feeling of his hand running through your locks had you instantly relaxing and you settled more into his chest.

After a moment you pulled away, looking up at Akira’s face in the dim light. He was staring down at you with such a tender look you couldn’t help it anymore and leaned in to kiss him. His lips were soft and it took him a moment to respond as it registered in his mind what you had done.

His lips moved sloppily, and you fought the urge to giggle at the thought that he had never kissed anyone before. However, seeing his past experience with all of the books he had been reading, you knew he was a fast learner and it didn’t take long before his mouth was moving perfectly with yours.

One of his hands moved from your hair to your waist, the other reaching up to cradle your face. After a moment he pulled away, panting softly as his eyes flickered quickly, studying your features.

“I . . . I’ve never felt this way before. But I know I can’t stop myself,” he breathed out.

“Then don’t.”

He dove in and kissed you again, gently pressing a hand to your shoulder to lay you down on the bed. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pulled him closer to you, legs coming up to encircle his hips. His hands settled on either side of your head, holding him up as your kisses turned urgent. You gently pushed him away to sit up and pulled your pajama shirt over your head, revealing your bare chest. Akira’s eyes went wide, a soft blush tainting his cheeks.

“I’ve always seen breasts in books, but . . .”

“Akira,” you scolded him. “Don’t make this weird!”

Trying to keep the mood going, you grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it off. His toned chest and abdomen glistened in the low light, arousal beginning to pool deep inside of you. You quickly made work of the knot holding his sweats up, helping him slide them down his legs.

“Good God,” you gasped out, noticing he wasn’t wearing any underwear.

Maybe it was an angel thing, but you hadn’t expected him to be so well endowed. His cock hung heavy between his legs, slapping against his thigh as the sweats left him bare. Swallowing thickly, you knew the stretch would be uncomfortable but so worth it.

“Is . . . everything okay?” he asked.

You could sense he was beginning to feel self-conscious so you focused instead on sliding down your pajama bottoms. When you were left in just your panties, you looked up at him, checking his face for any signs that he wanted to stop.

“We can stop right here,” you told him. “We don’t have to do this.”

Some sort of conflict began to play out in his face, eyes going wide as his brows furrowed before he seemed to accept some defeat. Hanging his head, he began to crawl over your body, lips tracing a path from your navel up to your jaw. Shivering, you wrapped your legs around him again.

“I guess I can only ask for forgiveness now,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

It was his shaking hand that ultimately pulled your panties down, sliding them down your legs as his thumb grazed your smooth skin. Once they were gone, he positioned himself between your legs, one hand wrapping around his long, thick cock.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I don’t quite know what I’m doing.”

“It’s okay,” you replied. “Take your time.”

Sucking in a breath, he pumped himself a few times, eyes fluttering closed before he leaned further down and guided himself into you. As you predicted, the initial stretch was uncomfortable, tears quickly springing to your eyes as you felt that you were being ripped apart. It wasn’t like you were a virgin, but it had been a while since you had slept with someone and the first time after a while was always uncomfortable. Akira’s size didn’t quite help either, but you forced yourself to relax as he slowly continued to push in.

“You feel w-wonderful, love,” he gasped out, hands clenched tight on the pillow below your head.

When he bottomed out he stopped, panting as he waited for you to adjust. He must have felt the tension in your body because one of his hands moved to rub slow circles on your hip. After a moment you lifted your hips up, causing him to moan before he pulled out completely.

“Lord have mercy,” he cried out before snapping his hips into yours.

His thrusts were slow, his hips going all the way back before thrusting back into you sharply. The movement had your body moving up on the bed, your head smacking against the headboard as an especially sharp thrust had your whole body vibrating. You let your legs slide off his hips and instead tried to open them as wide as you could. Crying out, you moved your hands to hold on to his side, nails digging in as he kept on thrusting slowly and sharply into you.

You felt his lips brush against your cheek, pressing light pecks in between pants.

“I-I don’t think I’m going to last much longer, love,” he spoke lowly into your ear.

“M-me either,” you gasped out. “Don’t stop.”

It took four sharp thrusts for you to come, the tight bundle slowly coming undone as his pelvis brushed against your clit. You called out his name in a mix of gasps and moans, eyes rolling into the back of your head as you rode out your orgasm as he kept on thrusting. He came right after, hips stuttering slowly before coming to a stop. Letting out a guttural moan of your name, he let his head hang down low, hair tickling your neck as he released into you.

A few minutes later, after he had wobbled to the bathroom in the darkness to get a towel for you, the two of you were entwined in bed. Your head was laid on his chest, listening to the sound of his heart slow down until it beat steadily.

He was alive. He was yours. He was mortal.

***

Your happiness, however, was short lived.

Another month passed, a month full of endless love making, stolen kisses, and nights spent in the same bed. The two of you had fallen into a relationship, and Akira had finally accepted his fate as a mortal.

One evening, while curled up on the couch, the power in your house suddenly went out. Confused, you lifted your head from Akira’s shoulder and glanced around you. Before you could speak, a loud popping sound filled the room and it was awash in a gentle green light. Akira’s face had gone deathly pale, eyes going wide as he took in the sight before you. As you registered that something was happening, he quickly sunk into a bow, forehead pressed against the floor.

“Akira, it is good to see you.”

You finally turned, hands flying to your mouth at the sight. An angel was standing there, blonde hair falling past its shoulders. It had a pair of wings around it like the traditional art you had seen. However, behind its head, there was an eagle, with a lion and sheep on either side. 

Weren’t angels supposed to be . . . beautiful?

Its eyes flickered towards you, the lion baring its teeth to give you a snarl. The eagle let out a screech and the sheep bleated loudly. The angel’s eyes narrowed, a faint glimmer of red light glowing around its body.

“You fool. You have tasted the flesh and do not wish to relinquish it.”

“I am no fool,” Akira replied. “I have fallen in love.”

He stood then, lifting his chin to stare down at the angel.

“Perhaps I am a fool in love, that may be true. But I am no simple fool.”

The lion roared then, the angel’s face warping into one of terrifying anger.

“God will never forgive you for this. You knew that as His servant you needed to avoid all temptation.”

“Did you forget, dear brother? God was the one who cast me out.”

“It seems you didn’t learn the first time,” the angel snarled.

“Was I truly tempted? Satan may have tricked me, but he was correct in his ways.”

“How dare you.”

Fear coursed through you as the angel seemed to grow in size, the animals surrounding its head focused on you. Swallowing nervously, you stepped behind Akira.

“This mortal will be the end of you,” the angel snapped.

“So it may be,” Akira said. “I love her and there is nothing that God can do to change that.”

“So is that it?” the angel barked out. “You want to relinquish your holiness and become mortal? To one day die and fade into the ground?”

“If it means I can be in love, then yes.”

“Fine, so it will be.”

The angel snapped its fingers. Akira fell to the floor, clutching his head as he let out a blood curdling scream. You kneeled beside him, yelling his name while the angel merely looked on.

“Foolish mortal. I hope you realize the gravity of his decision.”

With that, it was gone. Akira fell silent, lifting his head to peer at you with exhausted eyes. He seemed . . . well normal. His face before had retained an eternal youth, but you could now see the formation of wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. His dark hair now had a few streaks of gray, falling messily onto his forehead. Smiling, you held onto his face before pressing his forehead against yours.  

He was alive. He was yours. He was mortal.

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