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ser-pendragon · 2 years

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the shadows of the trees appear (amidst the lantern light)

(welcome to a gawain and the green knight harringrove au!! title from the mummer’s dance by loreena mckennit)

“Steve, you don’t look good. Like, at all.”

Nancy’s brow furrows with concern as she takes in Steve’s appearance - disheveled, dark circles under his eyes, his usually perfectly styled hair flopping over into his face. Steve huffs.

“That’s what I’ve been saying!” Robin chirps. She’s re-shelving movies, making her own little system so she can annoy customers. Steve thinks this month she’s going by color, rather than alphabetical order or genre. He doesn’t really know. Can’t really bring himself to care all that much.

He doesn’t miss the way Nancy is looking at her with a soft fondness in her eyes. She catches him looking and he turns the other way. She knows he won’t say anything.

“Thank you guys,” he huffs, primly, rolling his eyes so hard he thinks he might catch a glimpse of his brain inside his skull. “I hadn’t noticed, it’s very kind of you to point out.”

“Hey, man, we’re only trying to help you out,” Robin quips. “You haven’t done your hair, we gotta make sure you know.”

“Yeah, well -” Steve starts. His head is propped up on his hand and he can feel it starting to give way with each passing second, threatening imminent collapse. He hopes the potential smacking of his head against the table might knock whatever this is outta him. “I haven’t really been sleeping well.”

Nancy immediately fusses over him. She presses a cool hand to his forehead and says, “Are you feeling okay? You shouldn’t come into work if you’re sick Steve!”

Steve bats her hand away. His scowl is a little meaner than he intends it to be, but Nancy doesn’t look too offended. She’s made of stronger stuff.

“I’m fine, Nance. Like I said, I just haven’t been sleeping well. It’s nothing, it’ll pass.”

Nancy doesn’t look convinced, and Steve sees Robin give an exaggerated shrug when Nancy looks her way. But Steve isn’t about to tell them that he’s been dreaming of the Upside Down. Or at least what he thinks is the Upside Down. ‘Cause it sure looks like the Upside Down, but as his dreams progress, they change, and he finds himself lost in a lush forest, with yellow sunlight filtering through the leaves, and old ruins all around him. He always has a feeling of being watched. Sometimes he thinks he hears a voice, whispering through the trees like the wind, speaking in some old language Steve doesn’t recognize.

A few times, he’s seen a silhouette through the trees. Every time he’s tried to get closer, he hears a sharp laugh and the figure moves away. He’s never managed to get close enough to see anything other than the piercing blue eyes that the figure turns on him before disappearing into the shadows of the trees.

He feels like he’s being tested. Taunted.

He always wakes up feeling like he hadn’t gotten any sleep at all, no matter how early he went to bed and how late he woke up.

One night he’d even tried getting so drunk he passed out on the couch in the hopes that he wouldn’t dream and that hadn’t worked. Weed hadn’t worked either. He doesn’t really know what else to do.

“-eve. Steve!”

Steve jolts upright, eyes flying open. Nancy really looks worried now. So does Robin, which means he really must look awful.

“Steve, man, you should go home,” Robin says. It must be bad, if she’s offering to cover the rest of his shift. Shit.

“At least try to get some sleep. You could try chamomile tea, that might help.” Nancy tries. It’s halfhearted and they both know it.

“Thanks, Nance, but I don’t think tea’s gonna cut it.”

Steve’s exhausted. Down to his bones, he’s exhausted. He clocks out and gives a halfhearted goodbye and trudges his way to the Beemer, peels out of the parking lot without so much as a glance back at Family Video. It only takes ten minutes to drive back to his big, empty house, though it feels like it takes longer. By the time he’s shed his work vest and shoes and made his way upstairs, his eyes are heavy and he can feel himself flagging. He prays that when he sleeps this time, that’s all he does. He prays that no dreams come.

He shouldn’t be surprised when they do come. He shouldn’t be surprised when he wakes, gasping, in a place that isn’t his room, on the forest floor instead of his own bed.

He’s never started in the forest before.

Sitting up, he lets himself look around for a few moments, taking in his surroundings. Trees bigger than any he’s ever seen tower above him, and that perpetual golden sunlight filters through the leaves to dapple the forest floor. Crows caw from high in the trees. When Steve peers through the trees, he finds that the forest in the distance is covered in fog.

It’s the same forest, he knows that much. He’s not sure how he knows, but the sheer Presence of the forest feels the same. But the fog is new. The sounds of the crows and the rustling of animals is new. Every other time he’s been here, it’s been silent, except for the voice and the laughter. Steve finds himself straining his ears to try and hear it.

He doesn’t hear anything.

Sighing, he stands and dusts himself off. He’s in the clothes he fell asleep in, his soft sweats and a t shirt that’s too big and full of holes, for a band he doesn’t even listen to. He’s completely barefoot, but he finds that when he stands, the leaves and twigs don’t hurt him.

“What the fuck am I even supposed to be doing here?” He mutters. A sudden, soft breeze whistles through the trees. It tugs at Steve’s shirt and hair, pulling him in the direction of the fog. Steve has a feeling that’s all the hint he’s going to get.

“Fucking of course.”

Steve mutters to himself the entire time he trudges through the forest, if only for the comfort of having some sort of noise. It’s eerily silent once he steps through the fog. Not even the voice is present this time, the laughing, melodious voice that speaks in a language that Steve doesn’t know, but understands the feeling of anyway.

And well. Steve doesn’t really know what to expect here. He’s never gotten any answers outta these dreams, only mindless wandering and a feeling like he’s safe here, safer in these woods that somehow connect to the Upside Down than he is anywhere fucking else.

He sure as hell doesn’t expect the ruins he usually finds himself in to have rebuilt themselves. His breath catches when he sees them, emerging from the fog like something straight out of one of Dustin’s fantasy movies. Steve sort of wishes he’d paid more attention to those. He might have some sort of idea of what to do now.

But the hero usually enters the castle no questions asked. Right?

The door is right there. It looks heavy, made of oak, it’s wrought iron hinges and handle like nothing Steve’s ever seen. It’s nestled in a stone archway, the same stone archway that stood strong even when the mansion itself had long since crumbled. The one that Steve never could make himself walk through.

But now -

Now it calls out to him. He feels it all the way in the marrow of his bones. That breeze blows past him again, the wind singing through the trees, tugging at his clothes once more, and hidden will o’ wisps that he hadn’t noticed before dance around the door itself.

So he goes. He’s never had much of a sense of self preservation. The curiosity outweighs anything else. These dreams have always been the same, unchanging - until today.

“Here goes nothing,” he mutters, stepping forward toward the door. When his hand lights on the heavy handle, the wisps scatter, tickling his cheeks and tugging softly at his hair. Steve pushes at the door and without much effort, it swings forward, the hinges groaning as it does, revealing a grand entry hall. The ceiling towers above him, giving him the sense that this space is bigger on the inside than it appears to be on the outside. He feels small, here, but also so so big. There is a sense of comfort, and somehow, it seems so familiar.

It feels more like a home than his big, empty house in Hawkins, Indiana ever has.

Comforted, he steps forward, toward the grand staircase that splits off in two, leading up to a landing that marks the entrance of what Steve can only assume are long hallways with more rooms than he could count. He knows the basic layout of the mansion, has explored their ruins more times than he can remember - he knows that the house itself is built in a square U shape, around a courtyard that he’s only ever seen in disrepair. He’s always wanted to know what it would’ve looked like before.

So he follows his gut now, traces his steps through the first floor of the mansion, through what looks to be a dining area with a peculiar round table. Each of the thirteen seats are set for a feast, but no one sits there. There is no food, no smells coming from the kitchen. Steve runs a hand over the table and frowns when he sees no sign of dust either.

There have been no sounds from anywhere in the house, no signs of life other than the decor and the furnishings. The only sign that someone lives here is the chaise lounger that Steve passes on his way out of the house. There’s a soft, silken blanket draped over the lounger, and fur-lined pillows, and a book rests on top of it all, face down to keep the reader’s place. An actual fucking goblet sits on the ground, once full of wine but now empty.

The entire place feels frozen in time.

“Who lives here?” Steve wonders aloud, as he steps through a set of double doors left wide open and into the sprawling courtyard.

“I do,” comes a voice, an answer he wasn’t expecting. Steve nearly jumps out of his skin. A tall figure steps out from behind a rose bush, and when he steps into the golden light that streams into the courtyard, Steve’s breath catches in his throat for the second time in less than an hour. The man smirks slightly, as if he’d heard the stall in Steve’s inhale, and Steve’s ears burn. “These are my woods you’ve stumbled into, little deer. And my home.”

“I didn’t mean to ‘stumble into’ your woods,” Steve says, a little snappish. It’s not like he asked for these dreams, he never asked to run around in a strange forest instead of sleeping.

“I never said it was a bad thing, Steve.” The man grins. His golden curls fall into his face, the rest sweeping down over his shoulders. His blue eyes look like ice, and they’re piercing the way snow is in the sun. They notice everything, Steve can tell. The man is strong, broad shouldered, and sure, his movements confident and full of a grace that seems unnatural for any human to possess. He wears a soft, loose white tunic with delicate green and gold embroidery along the collar and the sleeves. The front is open, showing glimpses of a muscled, scarred chest.

“Wait, how do you -?” Steve starts.

“Know your name?” The stranger hums. When he speaks, his voice sounds the way cigarette smoke chased by a shot of his dad’s good whiskey feels. He sidles toward Steve, gaze unmoving from him. “I know a lot about you Steve. You wouldn’t be here, in my forest, in my home, if I didn’t want you here, Stevie.”

Steve can’t help but laugh. “Yeah, alright. Who even are you, anyway? You seem to know everything about me, and I know nothing about you, it’s only fair you tell me your name at least.”

Somehow, the man’s grin gets bigger. Now that he’s in full view, Steve sees that he has a fucking sword belted to his waist. This is insane.

“My name is Billy.”

Billy doesn’t seem inclined to give any more than that, so Steve takes it.

“Billy,” he repeats, a little incredulous. He kinda can’t believe this. This isn’t fucking normal.

“You don’t believe any of this,” Billy says. He hasn’t taken his eyes off Steve. Steve refuses to shrink under the intensity of his gaze. They call him King Steve for a reason.

“No, of course I don’t,” Steve says, his voice pitching embarrassingly high. Billy just chuckles. “Two weeks ago I wasn’t being dragged into a weird forest in my dreams! And this house has never been here before, and I’ve never seen another person here! I’ve barely even seen animals! What the fuck is this place?”

“This place is mine,” says Billy. Steve huffs, ready to argue, but he feels inclined to let Billy speak. “This realm is mine - only accessible to those who know how to find it. You’re here because I willed it. But also because of your heart.” He reaches out to tap Steve’s chest with two fingers.

“So this place really is real,” Steve breathes. Billy laughs, loud and raucous. Steve’s stomach shoots up between his lungs.

“Oh you think it’s just a dream, pretty boy? Nah, it’s all real,” Billy spreads his arms wide. “It’s just only happening to you when you’re asleep.” He levels Steve with a feral grin. “For the moment. See, I didn’t bring you here for no reason at all. I’ve decided to test you.”

“Excuse me?” Steve splutters, taking a step back. “I never wanted to be here in the first place, I sure as fuck don’t want to participate in some test made up by a guy who lives in a forest that isn’t real.”

Billy ignores him.

“I’ve seen you fight in the In Between,” he says cooly. His hand has dropped to the sword at his waist. “I can give you tools to protect those kids you fight for. I haven’t brought you here to hurt you, pretty boy.” His head tilts to the side. It reminds Steve of a cat. “There’s no point in that. No fun. I’m only here to measure the worth of your heart.”

Steve can’t believe what he’s hearing. Somehow it’s more insane than what he’s been seeing. But -

“Wait, you know about the Upside Down?”

Billy laughs again. “The Upside Down, that’s what those kids of yours called it. I like that. Yes, I know about the Upside Down. I was there when it was made. It was never supposed to exist, but we should have expected it. As above, so below and all that,” Billy waves a hand dismissively. “We don’t have time for this. You’ll wake soon, I can’t keep you here forever.”

Steve feels like Billy wants to keep him here forever. He finds that the thought doesn’t scare him as much as it should.

“The test is simple,” Billy announces, as if it isn’t just the two of them standing in this open, empty courtyard. Maybe to Billy, they do have an audience, one that Steve certainly can’t see. He pulls the sword from his belt, places it point down against the cobblestones and rests his hands on the pommel. It leaves the sword leaning within Steve’s grasp. He could take it and escape.

“All you have to do is land a blow against me, pretty boy. And in a month’s time, you’ll be right back here, so I can return said blow. How’s that sound?”

“I think that sounds insane, and like I don’t have much of a choice.”

Billy’s expression darkens at that. Becomes unreadable. Steve finds himself stepping back again.

“You always have a choice here, Steve. If you want to walk out the door and leave, you can. You’ll wake up and never see this place again, and I’ll make sure you don’t remember it.”

Something like sadness flashes across the stranger’s face, before he schools it back to careful neutrality. Steve finds that sadness mirrored in his own gut at the thought of never seeing this place again. He makes his decision quickly.

“I’ll take that challenge, then,” he says. He feels brave the way he does when he’s facing down Demodogs in the Upside Down. Billy had said that he would give him tools to keep his friends safe if he did this. And it means he can come back here. He steps forward, his gaze unwavering the way Billy’s has been.

Billy whoops, throws his head back and cackles to the sky. “There we go, Stevie, that’s more like it. I knew there was a fuckin’ fire in you.” The sword in his hand clatters to the ground between them and Billy takes one, two, three steps back. The bushes and grasses of the garden rustle with that gentle wind, a wind that turns fierce as Steve bends to pick up the sword.

It’s not entirely unlike the spiked bat he’s grown so fond of. He gives the sword a few experimental swings, twirls it in his hands to test the weight of it. Billy hasn’t taken his eyes off him.

When Steve looks up at him, his brow furrows. Billy doesn’t have a weapon. He also seems to sense Steve’s question before he asks it.

“Not the point, Steve. The game is you land a blow, and I give one in return in a month. No questions either.”

So Steve shuts his mouth. His hands grip the pommel of the sword tightly, and he has to force himself to relax. Billy’s stood in the center of the circular courtyard, arms spread wide, completely relaxed.

This is just like fighting Demogorgons, Steve thinks. He steels himself.

And rushes forward.

The sword cuts through the air. Steve doesn’t even look at where he’s striking, he just lets instinct guide him.

He feels the resistance as sword meets flesh, meets bone, but still he follows through.

When he looks again, he’s horrified to find that he’s rent Billy’s head clean off his shoulders. He stumbles back, dropping the sword that drips crimson blood over the cobblestones.

And then Billy’s head laughs. His body bends to pick up his head by those golden curls, turning them red as blood drips from the open wound, down his arm and into his hair.

“Nice one, Stevie,” he croons. Steve feels like he might be sick. “See you soon.”

And with the sight of Billy’s hands holding his own grinning severed head, blood pouring from his neck, Steve wakes with a shout.

It’s dark out. The clock on his bedside table reads 3 AM. Steve’s hands clench, and he hisses at the feeling of thorns digging into the soft flesh of his right hand

Looking down, he finds that he’s holding a red red rose. Tied around the stem is a yellowed piece of parchment.

Scrawled on the parchment in neat, swirling writing, the deep green ink standing out from the page are three words.

Miss you already.

Steve finds himself wishing he were back in that forest.

#WHEW #LSKGHSDHGSDG #that took me two days to write lmao #we're starting a new little au lads #for all you arthurian fans #and anyone who likes a little fantasy #this is my specialty y'all so i do hope you enjoy!#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #gawain and the green knight au #cursum perficio verse #the green knight au #my writing

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bells-of-black-sunday · 9 months

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[ dressing room ] + [ mirror ] - Tarhos and Haru, modern

Kinky Scenario's | Accepting

[ dressing room ] our muses have some fun in a dressing room together

[ mirror ] our muses have sex in front of a mirror

To say Tarhos desperately needed a guiding hand in the fashion department would be an understatement. Packs of five t-shirts for cheap, sweatpants and jeans were all that he ever wore. All that he ever needed, not like he was going out to fancy restaurants every night even if he did have tailored suits for when work demanded such an occasion. It wasn't like he didn't have the money either, he did. He's not a material person, he only buys what he needs, but Haru seemed determined to give him "rizz" whatever that meant.

The dressing room was bigger than he expected it to be, but maybe high end stores were just like that- after all it was Robin's recommendation and Robin never bought anything he wears in public for cheap. Always dressed like he had money. Yet the moment Haru followed him in he knew that mischievous smirk when he saw it. And even now when he had gone through two out of the five outfits his boyfriend had picked out and he approved of those small hands never left his waist.

Plush lips pressing a kiss into his shoulder knowing fully well there wasn't much space for either of them to back up, "Haru..." He sighed, "What are you doing?" "Having fun pretty boy." There was that nick name, the same one that never failed to rise at least the haze of a blush to his cheeks and words he knew very well the intention behind. All he could do was sigh as the hands lowered to his strong thighs, "We're in public-" He hisses in a whisper, but he's not actually mad. Just embarrassed. Embarrassment only spurred on by how he could see himself in the mirror.

In his underwear- exposed, but the artist had wanted to watch him try things on to give a second opinion. Yet...despite the embarrassment he never stopped his hands that tugged down the waistband of his boxers to fully expose him to the cold air of the store. He could hear Haru chuckle as his dexterous fingers started to stroke his length, "You're so cute baby boy, you never get to see your face. Come on-" one of his hands held his jaw firm to stare at himself in the mirror, "You can keep your eyes open for me, can't you?"

So many pet names he worried about someone hearing and yet despite all that, the shame, the embarrassment- Tarhos couldn't deny that at least in this moment he was enjoying the attention. Enjoying the way he could watch his boyfriend watch him with such love and adoration it made him forget about things for a while. Even as two fingers slipped past his lips and played with his tongue to coat them and the simple request to lean against the wall forced him closer to his own reflection- he was enjoying himself.

He enjoyed the way those two fingers scissored him open, the way Haru whispered quiet words of praise over how good he was being, everything about it. Tarhos almost even whined when his hand left his weeping cock only to be told to be patient and he was. Even as the fingers retreated from his body and he heard Haru's clothes shift behind him. And his voice met his ears again in nothing more than the same whisper they'd been using yet somehow it sounded louder than anything he had ever heard before- "You want to ride me pretty boy? Give a good show for the mirror~"

And even as his face flushed he pulled off his boxers completely and sat back on his boyfriends hips feeling his hands return to his waist as he worked himself down his sock until his skin met his pants. At least he was wearing a condom- the only saving grace for his dignity. His hips moved slowly at first gripping the bench inside like his life depended on it as soft kisses were pressed along his strong back. It felt way too good to be doing this right now- maybe work had left him pent up, he wasn't sure.

His boyfriends hands returned to his cock stroking him as he whispered for him to speed up- he knew they couldn't drag it out. But fuck it felt so good in that moment- it looked so good in that moment. Watching the way their bodies slotted together doing their damndest to cum quick and they did. Tarhos first, his mess spilling over Haru's fingers as he body grasped around him trying to drag him deeper. Haru followed not long after basking there for a moment before he cleaned his hand off and patted his boyfriend to get up.

Tarhos picked up his boxers putting them back on before he heard Haru's words again- "Try the fitted shirt next, it'll look better on your figure."

#ic #a path of destruction (knight)#verse; modern #lemon #cw; exhibitionism #these two make me feral idk

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aslightaddity · 9 months

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Side of the same coin//duality

Wanted to do some side profile work and decided to do Mr two face. I honestly love how it came out!

#aslightartity #batman #two face #batman rogues #gotham rogues #harvey dent #digital art #side profile #Batman forever #The dark knight #bruce wayne #DA Harvey dent #Dappy!verse

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jeoseungsaja · 2 years

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🍸 + "what do you need to move on?" ( for hyuk in arc two 🥺 but i also know that's gonna get realll sad- feel free to skip any if all of them, alex!! and please have a wonderful day too <3 )

@ofgentleresolve ♚ from x.

♔ ———–

Sitting on the stairs that lead to his shabby office, a bottle of clear liquor is latched to his scarred hand. He usually doesn’t drink like this, prefers to use his sorrows as fuel to catch the justice he so ardently seeks. However, there are days where he finds himself in some kind of profound, oceanic hole without an exit; struggling to climb up and feel the air that his lungs so desperately need. These moments feel like heavy bricks attached to his ankles, dragging him toward deep sea; moments where his memories hurt more than giving him any kind of solace; moments where he knows his friend is a ghost and fervently wishes he wasn’t (but that’s not going to make Patrick rise out of his grave, is it?).

A hiccup, he tries to stand up and stumbles a little; long arm managing to get looped around the dilapidated rail. God, he hates this. Hates that the alcohol does nothing to numb the emotions bubbling within him; hates that the bottle is only making him more prone to speak about the things he’s been saving up since forever; hates that he feels helpless --- hates that he misses him so much, the yearning alone could burn an entire hole in his heart; pierce it permanently.

Stubborn as a mule, he still fights to walk down the stairs as a question echoes through. Who’s asking this? Who’s saying it? Is it his own head or is it someone who managed to see him in this shameful state? Suki is supposed to be back at his apartment to get some sleep; Jae-Hwan left about three hours ago --- there shouldn’t be anyone else around here but him and his heavy heart; him and this doltish idea of getting drunk. Feet get dragged on the last block of stairs and when he lets go of the rail, he has to lean in and support himself on the dirty windowsill. Fingers dig into the stained wood; a hand leaving the bottle on the window’s stool.

What do you need to move on? Can he even do it? Move on from losing someone he knew and loved for years? Move on from the lack of justice his best friend was given? Move on from experiencing misery that seems to portray an immense valley with drained flowers and vicious tentacles that keep extending themselves? Will there be a day where he doesn’t feel like this? Where he doesn’t latch onto a specific file that he’s re-read a thousand times; where he doesn’t stare with ache at the Lily of the Valley sitting near his desk, where he doesn’t graze the tattoo engraved inside his wrist with a close-lipped simper that wishes to break into tears.

There he goes again, trembling fingers pulling his sleeve down, if only to see the permanent drawing sitting on his skin --- an ode to him; an important piece he will always carry with him.

Until the end, and then a little more.

“Maybe...a new...a new heart or...a new brain, I--I don’t know.”

He has to, one day, right? One day. He knows Patrick wouldn’t like him to sink like this --- he was always his anchor, the one who cheered him on. But it’s just...tough. Even after all these years. Losing him wasn’t easy and so, moving on isn’t easy, either.

“Sometimes I’m...waiting to wake up from a long nightmare. Hoping that...it’s just that, all of this. A nightmare. But it’s real, it’s all real---”

Even if his head sometimes plays tricks on him, he’s aware of this sour, stinging reality. His jaw clenches; hand brusquely moving to let the bottle drop onto the floor. It shatters into humid pieces, staining the floor. He breathes through his nose; closes his eyes.

“The people who did this to him...they need to pay. They need to get what they truly deserve. And I...I won’t rest until that happens. May--maybe then, I’ll be able to move on.”

Maybe. Perhaps. Who knows.

———– ♔

#ofgentleresolve #♔ || verse three (arc two).#♔ || i'm in it with you (patrick | black knight au).#DID SOMEONE ORDER A DOSE OF PAIN (TM)???????? WEIUDHKASDHWIEUDHWIUEDH #THIS ARC MAKES ME CRY EVERY SINGLE TIME PLEASE I---WIEHDAHDUIWEDH #ALSO ME?? SKIPPING YOUR WONDERFUL ASKS??? ///NEVER///#I might take 300 years BUT I'M ALWAYS EXCITED TO REPLY TO THEM #EvEN IF---some of them give me endless pain as such (sOBS)#ALSO?? I HOPE THIS IS OKAY?? IF YOU'D LIKE ME TO CHANGE ANYTHING ABSOLUTELY LET ME KNOW ;W;#THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR SENDING THIS IN DEAR FERRE <3!!!#I HOPE YOU'VE BEEN DOING WELL PLS HAVE A FANTASTIC DAY!!!#♔ || queue.

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