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antikosm · 5 months

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Aro/Ace Terms Masterlist

Please let me know if I forgot anything

NOTE: There is a distinct difference between someone's personal orientation versus how they feel about sexuality/romanticism as a whole. Someone who's sex/romance repulsed may be in favour of open sexual/romantic expression or even vice versa (shoutout to @sowearecleariamhere for informing me of this!)

Types of attraction

Sexual - I wanna have sex with that

Romantic - I want to date that

Sensual - I want to hug that

Platonic - I want to be friends with that

Platonic crushes do exist. They are called “squishes”. You go through the same process of having a romantic or sexual crush but instead of landing them in bed, you’re on the floor at 2am with pizza rolls, Shrek in the background, talking about eldritch monstrosities (or whatever your shared interest is)

Aesthetic - that looks so heckin’ cool/pretty I love it

Intellectual - the desire to engage with another in an intellectual manner, i.e. having a conversation, picking their brain, and finding out how they think

Terms describing degree of attraction

Aromantic - lack of romantic attraction

Asexual - lack of sexual attraction

Aplatonic - lack of platonic attraction

Aroace - lack of both sexual and romantic attraction

Demi - attraction only forms once a strong emotional bond has been formed

Grey/gray - rarely/seldom experiences attraction

Allosexual - someone who experiences sexual attraction

I think I’ve also heard/seen it referred to as ‘arosexual’ but that’s honestly a bit confusing

Alloromantic - someone who experiences romantic attraction

I personally shorten both of those to “allo” (pronounced ‘aloe’)

Apothiosexual - sex-repulsed

Apothioromantic - romance-repulsed

Apothiaroace - often shortened to just ‘apothi’. In addition to being aroace, apothis are repulsed by romantic/sexual scenes, items, displays, etc. to varying degrees

Sex-neutral and sex-positive/favourable aces exist as well

Not all of us have the same level of comfort with sexual and romantic activities so please check. I mean that applies to everyone anyway, but please check and don’t assume that just because someone is aro/ace, that doesn’t mean they are sex/romance repulsed

Queerplatonic - Queerplatonic typically refers to a relationship that bends the lines between a romantic relationship and a non-romantic relationship. A queerplatonic relationship (QPR) often goes beyond what is socially acceptable for a platonic relationship but does not fit the typical notion of a romantic relationship.

Alterous attraction - a type of emotional attraction to someone that isn’t entirely romantic or platonic.

Chastity - actively refraining from sexual activities. This is NOT part of the ace/aro spectrum, though it is a common assumption when someone says they are ace/aro. Thankfully we’re getting a bit more representation in media now so it’s not as common of an assumption as it used to be, but it’s still there, especially in those communities.

An absolute FANTASTIC addition by @heyftinally in case anyone doesn't see the repost

Gonna expand on sex favorable/neutral/repulsed, since this is a masterlist after all: - Sex favorable - regardless of your sexual orientation, you personally want to engage in sexual activity with someone (significant other, one night stand, friends with benefits, etc) - Sex neutral - if you're with someone who wants to engage in sexual activities then you may or may not, depending on a variety of factors, but you have no strong inclinations for or against engaging in sex itself as an activity. Basically it's "alright" Sex repulsed/averse - the idea of personally engaging in sexual activities makes you want to hurl/cry/claw your skin off/spontaneously combust. If someone suggested doing sexual activities together, you would probably vehemently say "No!" before they even finished the question. You would rather do anything else - Sex positive - refers to your attitudes about sex in general. Regardless of where you fall in the above three terms, you recognize that other people want to, and should have the freedom and right to, engage in consensual sexual activities, even if you personally don't like or want those activities. Essentially shorthand for "I respect the right of other adults to have gay sex, have gender-weird sex, have sex with multiple people in and out of monogamous relationships/marriages, and have weird, wild, freaky kinky sex, so long as all participants and consenting adults". You can still personally want zero sex for yourself or think a particular kink is weird/ick, but you can, in tumblr speak, be normal about consenting adults doing consenting adult stuff - Sex negative - conservative purity culture, basically. You think nobody should have sex ever, or at least not until marriage, and when they do it should only be the "right" or "good" kind, as arbitrarily decided by you/society/some collective. You think badly of, look down on, and may even treat badly anyone who doesn't have the "right" kind of sex in your opinion. You are not normal about consenting adults doing consenting adult activities (even though they don't involve you in any way)

A wonderful addition from @overlord-of-chaos Sex aversion is not the same thing as sex repulsed.

If you are sex adverse, you personally have no desire to partake in any of those actions but seeing or knowing other people partake in that doesn't bother you.

Sex repulsion is when you can't stand doing it yourself, seeing/hearing about/knowing that others partake in it, or even just the idea of it.

Microlabels/Terms describing flavour of attraction

Note: -sexual is used for many of these so we don't have to deal with duplicates confusing things. All of these prefixes can be used with -romantic, -sexual, -platonic, and I imagine -alterous as well

Abrosexual - orientation fluctuates between a variety of orientations

Aceflux - similar to abrosexual, but orientation is contained to asexual spectrum

Acespike - someone who is asexual but may experience intense, brief, and random bouts of sexual attraction

Aegosexual - disconnect between oneself and the target of arousal

Amicusromantic/sexual - only experiences romantic attraction to those who they have formed a platonic relationship with (subset of demi)

Angled aroace - the same as oriented, but for those who are demi, grey, flux, etc.

Anthrosexual - someone who is attracted to humans and alterhumans regardless of gender identity/expression

Bellussexual - has interest in the aesthetic/aspects/certain sexual actions, but does not experience sexual attraction or want a sexual relationship

Caedsexual - previously allo, but now ace due to past trauma

Cupiosexual - wanting a sexual relationship but not experiencing sexual attraction

Finsexual/gynesexual - attraction to femininity

Fraysexual - opposite of demi. Attraction dissipates once an emotional connection has been formed

Linsexual - attraction to androgyny

Lithosexual - experiencing sexual attraction but not wanting it to be reciprocated

Loveless Romantic/Lovelessromantic - those who cannot feel love or feel disconnected from love but can feel romantic attraction/don't feel disconnected from the concept of romance

Minsexual/androsexual - attraction to masculinity

Orchid - the opposite of cupio; experiences ____ attraction but has no desire for a relationship of that type

Placiosexual - not wanting to be on the receiving end of sexual activities but wishing to perform them on others

Quiosexual - unable to distinguish between sexual attraction and other forms of attraction

Qui(r)oromantic - inability to distinguish between platonic and romantic attraction

Reciprosexual - not experiencing sexual attraction towards someone until you discover they experience sexual attraction towards you

Requiessexual - similar to caedsexual, but rather than trauma, ace identity originates from a state of emotional exhaustion, usually from a past sexual experience

Oriented aroace - an aromantic asexual (aroace) individual who experiences a form of tertiary attraction, that they feel is significant enough to warrant a place alongside their aroace orientation. (i.e. gay aroace, bi aroace)

Angled aroace - someone who is on the aroace spectrum (grey, demi, fray, etc) who experiences a type of attraction significant enough to stand alongside their aroace orientation

Examples of mixed orientations

Heteroromantic asexual biplatonic

Poly greyromantic pansexual

Apothi abroplatonic

Placiosexual aromantic finplatonic

Aroace cupioplatonic

Pan lithioromantic

Fraysexual biromantic aplatonic

You can get WAY more specific than what these cover, but just to give a general idea

Amatonormativity

Amatonormativity is the assumption that all human beings pursue love or romance, especially by means of a monogamous long-term relationship. The term was coined by Elizabeth Brake, in her book Minimizing Marriage: Marriage, Morality, and the Law (2011).

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thestrangesthell · 25 days

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Don’t mind me, just thinking about how Sebastian perfectly mastered Ciel’s tastes - and not just because his master needs to eat.

Sebastian didn’t need to master patisserie. He didn’t need to be the best cook and make food to rival that of *professionals* (as seen in the Curry arc). There was no need to go above and beyond what Ciel expected of him.

We know - canonically - that Sebastian can’t taste food in the way humans can. But he mastered the art of cooking anyway. He could have stopped when it was adequate. He could have left it the moment Ciel was satisfied with it. It is evident that he went past that stage and there’s something beautiful in that.

His complicated knowledge of what makes Ciel tick goes way beyond the contract. He genuinely respects Ciel’s wants, and clearly enjoys making the sweets his master likes.

Again, he doesn’t need to go that far.

Correct me if I’m wrong, but we’ve never seen Ciel order him to make these things *specifically.*

It winds back to the very nature of their bond - the very reason they are in it together at all. Ciel is Sebastian’s meal. That’s a done deal.

Maybe Sebastian wants every meal Ciel has to be just as exquisite as he knows his soul will be. They’re in this together, after all.

The symbolism of food in Kuroshitsuji is core to the story and something that crops up an awful lot. Sebastian’s cured interest in Ciel’s meals don’t benefit him in the slightest, (besides him being a cocky bastard who likes to be the best at everything). Perhaps at first - as he knew Ciel needed to eat - but his precision and interest goes beyond aesthetic. Call me a hopeless romantic, but it’s absolutely a form of genuine care.

If you really thought about it, technically, every meal could be Ciel’s last. Sebastian is making sure every meal and dessert is a good one and better than the last.

Anyway. Who’s excited for S4E4?

#kuroshitsuji #kuroshitpost #sebastian michaelis #ciel phantomhive #kuro headcanons #sebaciel

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vivmaek · 19 days

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Hello! Hope you're doing well.

When is the perfect time to post on social media so your post can go viral? What transits, days of the week, maybe? (I have started an editing acc, the engagement is disappointing 😭)

Thank you.

Going Viral & Gaining Internet Fame: Astrology Observations

✰ my masterlist

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

Natal Charts

Personal - Having fame indicators within your natal chart will obviously help when trying to go viral on the internet. However, they do look slightly different in comparison to a celebrity who is a known movie star or musician. The 3rd and 11th house are going to play a much more important role than the 10th house. The 3rd house rules over communication and the exchange of information. Study this placement in order to understand how your persona online might appear to others. This placement will also give you information on the types of daily interactions you’ll have online. The 11th house rules over collective energy, and the internet as a whole. I think this placement is the most telling as to whether or not someone is capable of amassing a large audience. This placement shows the energy of your fanbase or following. Having the Sun, Moon, Mercury, Venus, and Jupiter in the 3rd or 11th house are the best placements for internet fame.

◰ Uranus is also going to play an important role. Especially within the charts of people who unexpectedly go viral. The Uranus in Aquarius generation has a greater likelihood of amassing fame on the internet due to their highly innovative nature. Having Uranus placed at a degree of fame or within a favorable house will also be highly beneficial.

◱ Having an air dominant chart or strong air placements is favorable for internet fame.

◲ Planets forming a conjunction in the 10th and 11th houses are capable of amassing fame that extends beyond the internet.

Social Media Page - Looking at the natal chart of your social media page can be very revealing! My tumblr page has a Gemini Sun in the 8th house and a Scorpio Ascendant!

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

Planetary Hours

◰ Sun - Posting during a sun ruled hour is always great when trying to garner an audience. This is especially good when trying to showcase creative work.

◲ Mercury - I find that posting during a Mercury ruled hour generates more comments, DMs, and replies. It's great for creating engagement and building communications.

◱ Venus - If you have something aesthetically pleasing to showcase, post during a Venus hour. This can range from selfies to pieces of artwork. Posing during a Venus hour allows for the post to be met with favorable reception.

◳ Jupiter - Post during a Jupiter hour if you want a lot of likes. You’ll have more luck reaching a large audience.

Avoid:

◰ Saturn - This is one of the worst planetary hours to be posting under. It would be better to hold off and wait, look over your post for any mistakes.

◳ Mars - If you’re looking to generate a strong reaction, you’ll get that when posting under a Mars ruled hour. This planetary hour benefits internet trolls.

(These rules also apply to the days of the week.)

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

Transits

◲ The Sun passing through your 11th house or placed within your 3rd and 11th house within a solar return chart.

◰ Jupiter making close/positive aspects with the Ascendant, Midheaven, and planets placed within your 3rd and 11th house.

◱ Jupier placed in the 3rd or 11th house within your solar return chart.

◲ Uranus making close/positive aspects with the Ascendant, Midheaven and planets placed within your 3rd and 11th house.

◳ Uranus placed within your 10th or 11th house within your solar return chart.

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

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inevesgf · 2 months

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SOCIAL MEDIA⠀,⠀ chris dixon.

synopsis ✩ a walk through of your social media presence! inspired by @mrstelevision mwahh

face - claim: the LOVELY courtney eaton

authors note: first social media au <3 let me know what you guys think of it, reblogs are appreciated!

liked by chrismd, arthurtv and 900K others

youruser from the stands to the pitch, guess being in all those chrismd videos benefited me after all! — tagged sidemen and bambinobecky.

taliamar was rooting for you the whole time xx

youruser the kiss i blew at the camera was for u xx

xotbjzl MOTHER MOTHERED I LOVE YOU

chrismd youre telling me being in my amazing presence doesn’t benefit you? i’m heartbroken

youruser 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

chrismd youre so mean to me

xixlibs please just kiss already

theobaker best player on the pitch, besides me

youruser this is why you got injured

w2ksi y.n here bullying everyone and i am so here for it

liked by arthurhill, callux and 849K others

youruser a not-so-aesthetic photo dump (chris ruins it) — tagged chrismd, theburntchip and taliamar

bambinoyn they are so in love i can’t explain it

chrismd love you too ❤️

youruser 😚

wroetomd i know theyre joking but im holding on to CRUMBS. ok??????

taliamar peep us being wasted af in the first pic

youruser oops..

arthurtv tag yourself. im the dog

youruser that you are! 😊

geenelly arthurtv disstrack when?????

liked by miniminter, calfreezy and 865K others

youruser so lucky to b apart of your beautiful day 🤍 heres uk youtubes royal wedding on film x — tagged taliamar, calfreezy, polaroid and theburntchip

taliamar love you beyond comprehension 🤍🤍

youruser the most beautiful bride ever xx

freyanightingale most beautiful photos ever 😍

theburntchip freezy and i are such stunners

calfreezy Real mate

xixjzl everyone looked so good :,)

chrismd what a handsome devil .. and then there’s freezy and chip ..

talsmar4ever HELLO??? HELLO?? CHRISYN NATION ARE WE SEEING THIS???

xodixon WE ARE WHAT THE FUCK

liked by arthurtv, calfreezy and 799K others

youruser ski trip shenanigans 🎿 — tagged chrismd, calfreezy, willne, wroetoshaw and arthurtv

calfreezy you slayed on the slopes

youruser please NEVER say slay again, but thank u ☺️

w2love harry lookin TOO fine

chrismdlvr SO MUCH CHRIS LATELY they HAAVEE to be together i swear

chrismd can ski better than me

youruser yeah it’s because you’re not tall enough to ski, the skis are too far apart for you x

xow2s yeah girl you tell him

bambinobecky where was my invite!!

youruser youre lucky you weren’t there, i had to share a room with arthur and he smells like shit

arthurtv EXCUSE ME??!??

youruser love u ☺️

liked by chrismd, zerkaa and 932K others

youruser having one shell of a good time in croatia

hrtzerkaa THIS HASSS TO BE A HARD LAUNCH

calfreezy bunch of studs on a boat

theobaker your puns are terrible

youruser almost as bad as your sun burn?

chrismd she tried to drown me

youruser yeah with my love and affection duhhh

whiped4lewis OK EVERYONE STAY CALM

obsessedwyn OH MY GOD????

taliamar twitter will have fun with this one!

youruser you know it ;)

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sexhaver · 10 months

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ive been playing Cassette Beasts for a minute and it never stops being funny to me how flagrant they are about making this "Pokemon but with features you didn't know Pokemon has always needed". off the top of my head:

super effective/NVE hits have added benefits/debuffs beyond just doubling/halving the damage (hitting Electric types with Ground reduces their evasion and speed, hitting Steel types with Poison gives them poison-coated spikes that do contact damage, etc)

legally-distinct-Pokemon will learn new moves while in your party without having to battle, and you can then straight up steal these moves from them and put them on a not-Pokemon you actually care about using, which gives an actual incentive to hunt down and raise otherwise fringe not-mons beyond completing the not-Pokedex

we all played the Pokemon Infinite Fusion fangame right? we know how fusions work? okay so this game has them as temporary per-battle things instead of permanent ones, which is only marginally less cool while being infinitely easier to balance around

attempting to catch something shows you the percentage chance of success so you know whether you just got unlucky or if you should save your Pokeballs-i-mean-blank-cassette-tapes

leveling up is tied to your not-trainer instead of your not-pokemon, so you don't end up in the classic trap where your starter is way overleveled and everything else is underleveled and then you hit a fight your starter can't solo and have to spend an hour grinding to get the weaker not-mons up to par (funnily enough most Pokemon Nuzlocke romhacks have already figured this out and give you infinite rare candies with the only restriction being that you can't level past the next gym leader's ace pokemon, because Pokemon fans have realized that grinding is the worst part of the game way before Game Freak has)

moves, not-Pokeballs, not-PokeCenter visits, and healing items are all bought using entirely separate currencies which stops you from trivially breaking the economy in half

the soundtrack, fittingly, is pretty good! the vocals were a bit much for my taste but there's an option in the settings menu to straight up turn them off (letting the BGM play on its own), which i've never seen in any other game and really appreciate

downsides:

on a game design level, i understand why can i only carry a max of 5 not-Potions and 1 not-Revive at a time - it's to put a limit on how far away from fast travel points i can get by just running away from everything and healing off damage. on a gameplay level, however, this feels pretty bad

the pixel art style is trying to look as much like Pokemon as possible without actually being Pokemon so the overworld sprites look more like beta stuff from Pokemon that they cut for looking too weird. i have yet to find a haircut that doesn't look bad

this is super petty of me but something about the bloom and lighting of the 3d environments combined with pixelated 2d sprites that still cast shadows makes me painfully aware im playing a video game. it's like they were going for the same aesthetic as Octopath Traveler but fell just barely short. i can't think of a better way to articulate this feeling but if you know you know

it does that really obnoxious half-assed style of voice acting where plot-relevant characters will sometimes (maybe every third or fourth textbox) speak the first two or three words of dialogue before trailing off. mashing through textboxes (as one does) means constantly getting jumpscared by "hmm"s and "haha!"s "okay then!"s

i get that they wanted to make the player feel involved in the story, and it has a pretty decent hook so far, but oh my god. the amount of dialogue "choices" that just transparently do not matter. you know how people memed on Fallout 3 and 4's dialogue choices all leading to the same outcome, to the extent that you were basically choosing between "yes" and "yes (rude)"? and you know how Bethesda would at least attempt to justify how both options led to you accepting the quest anyways, even if it was really dumb? Cassette Beasts has streamlined this process even further by making the options in most of their binary decisions so identical that they don't even require different followup dailogue before rejoining into the main conversation thread. a solid 2/3rds of the dialogue options in this game so far feel like checks that you're still awake. i know this is a minor issue because people aren't playing Pokemon-likes for the engaging "choices matter" approach to storytelling, and i did ignore it at first, but it's so pervasive that you really can't ignore it

#cassette beasts

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eluminium · 9 months

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Y'know. In the latest Imp and Skizz podcast, the one about Comparison, there were a lot of good quotes. But like, can we talk specifically about one of them. Can we talk about Skizz recalling him saying "I'm gonna need you on this" to Impulse in 2021. When his daughter went to study in New York. And Skizz was in total misery from it. Like he described it as "there was no good feeling in that, it was just pain". So he asked Impulse if they could stream more together to take his mind off of it. And Impulse went above and beyond for him.

Can we like, acknowledge that. "I'm gonna need you on this". Need you. Not just anyone. You.

Think about that, absorb the implications. Like what an absolute beast of a bond two people have to recognise exactly when they need that friend right now, and that friend doesn't even question what you're asking and just jumps right into weaving this new routine into their busy life. To help. To do what they can to midigate the current pain. For your benefit and your benefit only.

Imp and Skizz are absolute best friend powerhouses. They've really got that platonic soulmate aesthetic over there. They warm my heart and I'm just another fly on the wall!

Thats it thats my ramble im going to bed now goodnight.

#dose of impulse #dose of skizz #IM A BIT INSANE #I NEEDED TO GET THIS OFF MY CHEST BEFORE I COULD SLEEP #IT DO BE LIKE THAT #imp and skizz #impulsesv #skizzleman #my writing

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ryttu3k · 1 year

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"The question has never been: Can you build cities?

Ants do that.

The question has never been: Are you capable of considering your own existence and getting kind of depressed about it?

Any animal in captivity does that.

The question has never been: Can you use tools?

Crows do that. Otters do that. Apes do that. Good Lord, everybody does that.

The question has never been: Can you perform complex problem solving?

Dogs do that.

The question has never been: Can you experience love?

Nobody doesn’t.

The question has never been: Can you use language?

Parrots and dolphins and cuttlefish do that.

The question has never even been: Do you understand object permanence, can you recognize yourself in the mirror, do you bury your dead, do you bond emotionally with your young?

Elephants do all those things, and some humans definitely don’t.

The only question is this:

Do you have enough empathy and yearning and desperation to connect to others outside yourself and scream into the void in four-part harmony? Enough brainpower and fine motor control and aesthetic ideation to look at feathers and stones and stuff that comes out of a worm’s more unpleasant holes and see gowns, veils, platform heels? Enough sheer style and excess energy to do something that provides no direct, material benefit to your personal survival, that might even mark you out from the pack as shiny, glittery prey, to do it for no other reason than that it rocks?

Everything in the universe has rhythm. Everything pulses to a beat laid down by the Big Bang. Everything feels the drumline of creation from star to sex to song. But can you make that rhythm? In order to create a pop band, the whole apparatus of civilization must be up and running and tapping its toe to the beat. Electricity, poetry, mathematics, sound amplification, textiles, arena architecture, efficient mimetic exchange, dramaturgy, industry, marketing, the bureaucratic classes, cultural critics, audiovisual transmission, special effects, music theory, symbology, metaphor, transportation, banking, enough leisure and excess calories to do anything beyond hunt, all of it, everything.

Can everyone else trust that, if you must declare war and wipe out half a quadrant, you’ll at least write a sad song about it?

Yes?

Well, even that is not quite enough.

Are you kind enough, on your little planet, not to shut that rhythm down? Not to crush underfoot the singers of songs and tellers of tales and wearers of silk? Because it’s monsters who do that. Who extinguish art. Who burn books. Who ban music. Who yell at anyone with ears to turn off that racket. Who cannot see outside themselves clearly enough to sing their truth to the heavens. Do you have enough goodness in your world to let the music play?

Do you have soul?"

- Space Opera, by Catherynne M Valente

#this part absolutely made me feel some sorta way #space opera #catherynne m valente #books #book quotes #eurovision #(it counts the book is literally eurovision in space)

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sambvcks · 2 years

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of first, second, third, fourth meetings, e.m. x reader

pairing: eddie munson x fem! reader

summary: The first time we met we hated each other. You didn’t hate me, I hated you. And the second time we met, you didn’t remember me. I did too, I remembered you. The third time we met, we became friends. We were friends for a long time. And then we weren’t. And then we fell in love. – When Harry Met Sally.

warnings: cursing (like a lot), holding not-so lifelong grudges, mention of stage fright, head-cannoning that eddie was kinda a jerk before he was given a proper thump in the head, so divergent from the actual events of season 4 it’s scary, celebration of Christmas (exchanging of gifts).

word count: 5.1k (HUH???)

author’s note: AKA Eddie Munson + RomCom tropes = Perfection. Eddie deserves to be happy. Season 4? Never heard of her. (no fix it fics in this house, we actively pretend it didnt happen)

[ read on ao3 | masterlist | inbox ]

first meeting.

Looking back, it’s so silly to remember the things that seemed so important to the freshman version of yourself. One week, it was some science project that escaped your mind the second it was turned it. The next, it would be the new shoes your mom bought you – off brand and noticeably so. The other girls had real Converse, why did you have to settle for the Payless knockoffs? One particular week, it was talent show try outs.

You had been rehearsing your song day and night, much to your mom’s chagrin. Her overnight shifts only afforded a preciously small window for sleep, something you tried your very best to not disturb (you still did). You had even laid out your best outfit – a hand me down blouse and tweed skirt that you had tailored to fit a little shorter than your mom approved of.

The line of acts auditioning was slowly dwindling, leaving you and a gaggle of boys that looked like they had walked straight off of a Metallica poster to exist solely as every parent’s worst nightmare. They were each absentmindedly fiddling with their instruments, fine tuning and flipping drumsticks as they awaited their turn, contrasting heavily with your noticeably panicked state.

“Do you mind? I think you’re gonna leave a dent in the floor with all your pacing.” Grumbled their leader.

Eddie Munson.

Easily recognizable with his growing hair and the spattering of patches of bands you had never heard of across his jean vest. He was loud. Loud enough that even newly christened Hawkins High School freshmen like you knew his reputation and, more importantly, knew to avoid him if you had a good head on your shoulders. Which you liked to think you did.

Still, who were you to judge, with your barely elevated trailer park aesthetic, homemade lunches, and hair you cut yourself? Benefit of the doubt, you decided. Maybe Eddie Munson wasn’t the devil-worshipping cultist he had garnered the reputation of. Maybe he was just misunderstood, an outcast but a good guy.

“Sorry.” You mumbled, steadying yourself against a wall and hoping beyond hope that he would leave it at that. You could still feel his eyes, though, skirt across your fidgeting form.

“Nervous?”

As if it wasn’t obvious. Your nails had been chewed to the nub and the skirt you had altered was starting to fray at the edge from your constant fiddling with it.

“No need to be, the people running this thing have no idea what real music sounds like. We’ve tried every year, still no takers.” He gestured back to his group of misfits, who only seemed half interested in the conversation. “But you seem top 40. Let me guess…Madonna? Will they let you sing ‘Like a Virgin’ at a school talent show? We’re playing ‘Rainbow in the Dark’. Ever heard of it?”

This drew the attention of the other boys, who cackled like he had told some life-changing joke.

“I-I-” You tried, but Eddie was quicker.

“Jesus, if you’re this nervous before the audition, imagine you up there! Stage lights on you, no one there to save you. You’d just-” His hands wrapped around his own neck, tongue sticking out and eyes rolling back as he pretended to struggle for breath.

Oh, no. Eddie Munson wasn’t a misunderstood good guy. He was an asshole.

Before you could come up with some half-assed retort, the gym door was swinging open. The person ahead of you, Tammy Thompson, was walking out with her head held high. No doubt the teachers they had roped into running the talent show this year had given some sort of standing ovation and maybe even got down on their knees in praise. If they were feeling particularly frisky. Your name was called and you were ushered in so quickly your head spun.

“Good luck.” A teasing voice followed behind you.

You totally choked. Haunted by Eddie fucking Munson and the echoes of his band’s laughter, you were barely able to get two lines out without the air hitching in your lungs. The tears came next as you high tailed out of there without an explanation.

Munson and his friends were still loitering around, awaiting their turn. You wondered, briefly, if they were forced to the end of the auditions in hopes that they would just give up and spare everyone the trouble. You marched past them, eyes stinging and lip quivering as you spat out a single “fuck you” in their general direction.

When the list of acts was pinned to the bulletin board the next morning, you weren’t too surprised to not see your name amongst the ranks.

You did feel a little more than satisfied when Corroded Coffin wasn’t, either.

Within a week, the whole ordeal was forgotten with the announcement of a five page English paper on foreshadowing in Romeo and Juliet. Eddie Munson and his band of freaks were out of your mind, too. High school was funny like that.

second meeting.

Taking up an after-school job on top of your weekend babysitting/tutoring duties was a no brainer. The bills on your kitchen table continued to pile up and your mom’s hours kept getting cut shorter and shorter. She hadn’t explicitly asked you, but as soon as you turned sixteen you applied at the music store on Main Street without debate.

The owner, a lonely old man named Bill, had made plenty of conversation with you whenever you went in to rifle through the discount record section in the past. You had a pension for finding the diamond in the rough, the no name artists that were subjected to the back of the crates, something Bill respected about you. Even with zero experience, he happily hired you on the spot.

So, after band practice you would work a quick five-hour shift and zoom home to pour over homework until you made a half-assed midnight dinner before your mom had to leave for her night shift.

It wasn’t all bad. The bags accumulating under your eyes were minimized when Bill sold you his old, beat-up Volkswagen for a week’s pay. Way under value – even for the gas guzzling, unreliable hunk of junk, but Bill was something like the grandfather you never had. At least, you were the granddaughter he never had.

You were independent, no matter now little sleep you really got. And you got to chat all day about your one true love – music. You weren’t all top 40. You assisted old ladies in picking out records for their grandkids, helped couples looking for a copy of their favorite song, introduced new artists to unlikely fans.

Then, on an ordinary Tuesday, in he came.

Eddie Munson.

His car was almost as loud and worthy of the junkyard as yours was, so it was difficult to miss his impending arrival.

You hadn’t really thought about him since Freshman year, two years prior, willing yourself to forget one of your most embarrassing memories. It seemed it was just as easy for Eddie to forget, as he paraded in with an easy smile and a casual greeting. He perused the shelves for a few minutes, oblivious to the bubbling rage in your gut, which manifested as the harshest glare you could manage.

“Hey, uh-” He glanced down at your name badge, “Sorry to bother. You guys got the new Metallica yet? This is, like, the fourth place I’ve been to.”

His smile was almost charming. He was certainly easier to look at now, even with his still unruly hair and fading jean vest. So similar to that day three years ago that you almost felt fourteen again, shrinking under his unwavering stare. It was something you refused to admit even to yourself, how he never shrunk under pressure. He took the absolute vitriol spewed at him daily and dished it back just as easily. He had grown into his gangly limbs, jaw more defined and the hint of a tattoo peeking from under the collar of his shirt. If you hadn’t sworn to hate his living guts until the day one of you was put six feet under, you might even call him attractive.

But you weren’t fourteen anymore, and you certainly weren’t letting him get the last laugh this time.

“Sure, follow me.”

“Sweet. While I have you, any recommendations?”

“Broadening your horizons, Munson?”

He seems startled that you know him, as if he wasn’t solely responsible for a week’s worth of tear-stained fits of rest. If anything, he looked a little nervous that you did know him. Like you would turn on your heel and kick the troublemaker out. No Metallica, no service.

“Uh, sort of.” His head tilted as he followed closely behind your determined steps, craning for another glance at your face. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

“I go to Hawkins. How’s your second senior year treating you, by the way?”

Okay, maybe that was a low blow. But he started it, right? Either way, he seemed unphased by the question.

“Ah. It’s, uh, riveting. Really getting the most out of Mr. William’s Chem class the second time around. Might take it again just for the fun of it.”

You almost laugh, but you won’t give him the satisfaction.

“Here.” You pull the new Metallica from its display, the only copy available. “And my recommendation.” You hand over Rio’s Holy Diver, an album you were sure he had listened to backwards if the hand-stitched t-shirt adorning the back of his vest was any indicator. “It’s all great, but my personal favorite is ‘Rainbow in the Dark’. Ever heard of it?”

You watched, satisfied, as the wires in his brain began to piece this interaction together, firing faster than maybe they ever had before. His jaw fell, eyebrows shooting up beyond his shaggy bangs.

“I do know you! You’re-”

“The girl whose dreams of musical stardom you dashed in a single day. Finally, he remembers!”

“Jesus, it’s been, what? Two years?”

“Try three.” You snatched the cassette back, placing it delicately back on the shelf.

“Wow. You’ve, uh, changed a bit.”

Your nails, once a pristine Ballerina Slipper Pink were now a chipped charcoal black. The blouse and tailored skirt he had seen you in before was now replaced by a slightly too big ‘Bill’s Music’ t-shirt and jagged black jeans. You had found a bit of grunge and, if Eddie was pressed on the matter, he would admit that it looks good on you.

“Yeah, well. Someone stole away my dreams of fame, so I’ve fallen into a life of crime and rock and roll.” You maneuvered back to the register, hoping to end this interaction as quickly as it had started. If you were quick enough, Eddie Munson would be gone in a cloud of exhaust smoke from his shitty van in the next five minutes.

“I need to tell you, I still feel like an asshole about that.”

Oh. Oh shit. In all your fantasies about finally getting back at Eddie Munson – slashing his tires, stealing that stupid tin lunchbox he always carried around with him, maybe framing him for some crime – never did it include him actually feeling guilty. You had built him up in your mind as some soul-less villain, preying on the misfortunate.

“I talk a big game, but I still think about you running out crying. There’s no excuse, I’m just a natural dick, I guess.” He seemed almost shy, now. Haunted, even. Fingers fiddling with the edge of his coveted cassette. “I’m sorry.”

What were you to do? You could really stretch it out, let him feel that sinking gut feeling of guilt that would maybe match that fear you had felt on that stage three years ago. You could demand a public apology; he had no trouble making a fool out of himself if his lunchtime outburst were any indicator. But your mom had always taught you to be the bigger person.

“No big deal.” Sometimes you hated your mom and how her voice always rings in your head. “Already forgotten.”

His cassette was purchased, but not without him apologizing around another fifty times. He did disappear in a cloud of exhaust, his van puttering down the street and the faint tones of Metallica blasting through his window. His scent lingered, though, cheap cologne and cigarettes. You hated to think that you didn’t really mind it.

third meeting.

It was a little embarrassing, honestly. Cozying up to a group of freshman boys you had saved the world with was not on your senior year bucket list. Yet, you found yourself huddled around a corner table in the cafeteria, trying to map out the ins and outs of high school life to them.

Really, Robin was to blame. Robin - your talkative junior year Italian 3 desk mate - and your inexplicable hobby of linguistics which afforded you a basic understanding of the Russian alphabet were the two main culprits to this turn in your social life. Which then had you bunkered down in the Scoops Ahoy backroom attempting to translate a shady recording with Robin, Dustin, and Steve Harrington of all people.

And, sure, maybe the curly haired little weirdo had endeared you somehow. And you somehow found yourself promising Steve to watch over the kid after summer. Driving him around was the worst part – the gas alone was cleaning out a healthy chunk of your weekly paycheck. But his taste in music? You’d smother him before you allowed another Broadway soundtrack to crackle through your car speakers.

You remember the looks you got when you maneuvered the cafeteria as Dustin, Mike, and Lucas waved you over, the open mouth stares as the kids poured out of your Volkswagen on the first day back from Summer break. But fighting a Russian army and some multi-legged creature from another world created an unexplainable bond between the most unlikely of people and, honestly, would you even speak to any of these people after walking the stage at graduation anyway?

In return for your vast high school knowledge – which teachers to avoid, which bathrooms went unmonitored, which days they really needed to pack a lunch - the kids gave you a crash course on all things D&D, filling lunch periods with shitty cafeteria food and outlandish ideas for your blossoming character. They crafted an intricate narrative worthy of their high esteem for their sudden older-sister figure, picturing an elf, ethereal and full of curiosity and kindness.

You just wanted to smash things, but the boys promised the game went well beyond simple violence.

Then, a voice from a table over.

Eddie Munson.

He’d clocked the boys on the first day of school, looking lost and out of place in the hoard of cliques occupying each table. Then, you ushered them over like Galadriel to the lost, broken Fellowship and offered little pieces of yourself, of kindness and zero judgement. He was impressed, allowing you to seep into the recesses of his mind ever since he saw you rip off the sign some junior varsity football player stuck to Dustin’s back that said, ‘KICK THE FREAK!’. He watched, amazed, as you balled up the paper and chucked it in the general direction of laughter, hitting some linebacker square in the face.

Gone was the tear-stained girl running from the gym.

Recently, Eddie had found solace under gym bleachers during lunch, discussing upcoming band rehearsals and Hellfire Club meetings. But a weekend hangover actually had him craving the sorry excuse for cardboard that the school district called pizza, so they’d made the trek into the jungle of a cafeteria.

And there you were. Prettier than he remembered, but he was a stupid boy these past few years and anything beyond bootleg copies of Dio records and plans for upcoming campaigns did not have space in his mind. He’d scooped Henderson out of the bunch, much to your displeasure, and ushered your group over to his table with the promise of adventure beyond their wildest dreams.

The boys were easy. They were eager for any type of structure, particularly from an experienced Dungeon Master who seemed to have an ego of steel and a tongue of venom. You, with your faded t-shirts and your ‘Dungeons and Dragons for Beginners’ book loaned out from Mike’s vast collection felt like jumping out of a plane without a parachute. When Dustin noticed the distinct tension between his two new leaders, he voiced concern.

“We just go way back. Don’t worry. We’ll play nice.” You offered as explanation, seated as far away from Eddie as the small table could manage.

You kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. Daily, you wondered when the teasing quips or the taunts would pick up. After all, Eddie was always eager to voice any amount of displeasure. Often, it was other students or teachers who didn’t know how to do their job. Sometimes it was as simple as the sun shining too bright or his bangs not falling the way he favored. But never you. He never had a single negative word to send your way.

Instead, he was patient. He started teaching you the ins and outs of D&D, offering pointers and directions for your character to take. He told you which weapons were worth your time and even gave insight into upcoming battles he had planned, offering you the slightest edge.

Before long, you were hanging out without the kids – which seemed like an impossible task because at least one of them seemed to always be trailing behind one of you. But when you had a late-night shift at Bill’s or Eddie just felt like bugging you (a near daily occurrence), there he was. He helped stock shelves even though that was your main job description, he played his favorite songs over the store loudspeakers, much to the displeasure of the customers, and he was so fucking nice it was driving you up the wall.

“Hey, just so you know, I got my Tuesday night shift switched for Thursday. In case you felt like dropping in again and driving even more customers away.”

Eddie was stationed at the classical section, flipping through records to laugh at the artists’ powdered wigs and cherub cheeks.

“Oh yeah? Got a hot date?”

Your silence spoke wonders.

“Dear lord. Who?” He demanded. You shrugged, not ready for this conversation. “C’mon, don’t be embarrassed. If it makes you feel any better, nobody is good enough for my best friend.”

A term he had adopted when you first let him use your employee discount and had stuck since. Dustin pretended not to be jealous – and a little curious – the first time Eddie had said it in front of the whole group without a single note of sarcasm.

“So, you might as well just tell me.” He wasn’t really paying attention, deft fingers still flicking through a crate of records. You were perched on the register counter, watching the clock at the seconds ticked by endlessly. Sunday night shifts were rough in a town like Hawkins, where everyone was too tired after a hot church service to spend any of their hard-earned money.

“His name is Jake.”

“Ugh. I hate him already.”

“You only know his name!”

“That’s enough. Imagine being named Jake. Depressing.” Eddie finished one crate and moved on to the next. “Sounds like he sells insurance and cheats on his wife.”

“Jesus. It’s one date. A free, hot meal, at worst.”

“That’s what prostitutes say, babe.”

He was always like this. Argumentative and honestly a little annoying. But he was somehow your favorite person in the world because of and despite those things. Maybe you were those things too, and you flew to each other like moths to a flame. Kindred spirits, of sorts. You didn’t have a retort, so you resorted to throwing a coin at him from the Take-A-Penny, which he easily dodged.

“Fine. But when it turns out he’s trying to get you to join his cult, just say-”

“Sorry, I’m already in Eddie Munson’s?”

“Ha ha. Anyways, word of advice? Don’t do that thing you do.”

“Thing? I have a thing?”

“Oh yeah.” Eddie abandoned his crate, hoisting himself onto the counter next to you. His thigh pressed to yours, his hair brushing your shoulder as he silently offered his hand over. You fiddled with his rings, slipping one from his pointer and shoving it onto your thumb. “Your ordering thing. I find it so adorable and endearing but any normal person would probably just put you out of your misery.”

“Sorry if I like things a certain way.”

“Don’t apologize, babe. I like that about you. But it might not be first-date material, y’know?”

You huffed in annoyance but didn’t disagree.

“And if he’s a douche, I’ll plant some pot in his locker and get him expelled or something.”

Jake was a total douche.

He was nice, sure. At first. Held open doors, pulled out your chair. All the stuff you had seen in movies Robin made you rent to broaden your horizons. When the time for conversation came, though, it felt…off. There wasn’t that easy back and forth, the endearments and nicknames. It was fumbling for topics and finally settling on extra curriculars.

You’d sat through twenty minutes of him chattering on and on about the basketball team and something called man-defense, but he scoffed at the very mention of Dungeons and Dragons.

“Like that Munson guy? My dad said only Satanists play that shit.”

You politely excused yourself to the bathroom and bolted out of the staff exit before he could get another word out.

And when you appeared at Eddie’s front door, dressed up and visibly annoyed, he didn’t even make a comment. You knew the told you so was sitting on the tip of his tongue, so desperate to make an appearance it was nearly painful for him to hold it back. He just ushered you in, mixtape quickly slotted into his speaker system, and Dio’s ‘Rainbow in the Dark’ sounding off as the soundtrack to Eddie’s quiet comfort.

It was almost as if the date hadn’t happened in the first place, that you both knew you would end up here.

“Any deals tonight?” You asked, so accustomed to the knocks that would interrupt your quiet nights in. Eddie would disappear for no longer than a few minutes, leaving you to twiddle your thumbs on his bed until his return.

“Nah. Wanted to keep my schedule wide open for you.” He was sorting through his most recent supply, acting as if that wasn’t the nicest thing anyone had ever done for you.

You had years filled of missed holidays, forgotten birthdays. You didn’t blame your mom for her horrible boss or her proclivity to ignore the calendar. To think Eddie had pushed aside any other plans for when you would come running had something bubbling in your chest.

Eddie knew you would come. You knew you would end up there, like some sort of escape method. An escape back to Eddie Munson.

If only Freshman you could see you now.

fourth meeting.

Christmas was a notoriously solitary holiday for you. Luckily, this year’s holiday season had been filled to the brim with gifts for the kids on Christmas Eve and a little party at Steve’s place so the ‘adults’ could exchange gifts and just be relaxed for a bit – free from high school and work and otherworldly monsters.

Eddie had become such a fixture to your life, so easily attached to you that Steve didn’t even bat an eye when he ushered you both into the living room, eagerly accepting Eddie’s version of a Christmas present (a few joints to hand around). Even Nancy, with her big college plans and life scheduled down to the minute, let loose a bit and took a few overeager puffs followed by long bouts of coughing.

Steve and Robin pitched in for a new set of headphones for you, Nancy eagerly watched you unwrap some ungodly floral wrapping paper to unveil a cassette of some UK indie band she swore up and down you would love, something Jonathan had introduced her to.

You had been saving up for the past few months to get gifts deserving of each of your friends. You had spent endless hours obsessing over JC Penny mailers and gossip magazines that swore they knew the secret to buying the perfect gift during slow shifts at Bill’s.

Robin got a new pair of Converse and a pack of Sharpies so she could doodle to her hearts content. Steve got a new Walkman, since he had leant his old one to Dustin who swore up and down that he had returned it. You had even taken the time to get it engraved – Property of Steve Harrington, not Dustin! Nancy got a new journal for all her editorial notes, though you had filled the first page with a few polaroid’s of the group together.

As Steve, Robin, and Nancy got to work on properly defacing Robin’s new shoes, you felt a little nudge on your foot.

Eddie Munson.

Looking sheepish and nodding towards Steve’s kitchen. You followed behind him, hand patting at your back pocket to make sure his gift was properly secured. At least the other three had the decency to pretend to not be interested in whatever was developing.

“So I, uh, thought a lot about what to get you.”

“You didn’t have to get me anything, Eds.”

He rolled his eyes – his default facial expression when it came to you - and fished in his pocket for a second. A chain clinked as it dangled from his hand, offering it up for judgement.

“A guitar pick?”

“Not just any guitar pick, babe.” His fingers worked to unhook the latch. “Believe it or not, this is the very guitar pick I used when Corroded Coffin auditioned for that bogus talent show.” He latched the necklace around your neck as delicately as he could, hands lingering as he watched it fall to your collarbone. “The day we first met. The best day of my life.” He finally pulled away; eyes still glued to his guitar pick on your neck. “Y’know, besides the whole making you cry thing.”

“Eds, you absolute sap.”

“Yeah, yeah. Shut up about it.” He stepped back, and it felt like it was the first breath of air you had taken since walking into the kitchen. “Would’ve given you something worth more, like my soul or something. But you know that thing is long gone.”

“Well, my gifts no better.” You promised, fishing in your own pocket. “Here.”

His eyes scanned over the tickets you offered up.

“No way.”

“Yeah, they’re playing in Fort Wayne next month. We’ll probably die from altitude sickness from how high our seats are.” You shrugged. “But they’ll probably play ‘Rainbow in the Dark’, right?”

Eddie Munson, with his loudmouth and unwavering ability to find any situation hilarious was struggling to form a single coherent thought here. The way you looked with his pick around your neck certainly wasn’t helping either. His vision felt hazy, his ears were ringing in and all he could see was you. You, with your stupid optimism and endless music trivia. You, his best friend.

Was it normal to think about shoving your tongue down your best friend’s throat?

Eddie thought back to the last campaign you had barely concluded before Winter break. You and Dustin carried the party, right down to the wire. You were beaten up, barely ten hit points left between the two of you. Eddie had heavily pushed for a retreat. Orcus was one of the most powerful foes the party had faced to date and the odds were slim. Retreat, he had advised them. Retreat and live to fight another day.

Eddie didn’t think he could live another day without being able to kiss you.

No more retreating.

His hands were back around your neck, fingers curling into the newly placed chain. He didn’t even have time to steady himself before his lips were on yours. Aching, needy, desperate for something beyond best friends. Your tickets fluttered to the floor.

You returned in kind, hands gripping at the lapels of his stupid denim vest, the band patches scattered across the material much more familiar to you, now. Your back was pushed into Steve’s granite countertop painfully. You curled even further into Eddie, mouth eagerly opening for him as one hand traveled down your sternum, side, before settling at your waist.

A finger hooked into a loop in your jeans, pulling your hips flush to his.

You stepped on his sneakers in your eagerness to get closer, as close as you possibly could. He didn’t mind, hand weaving into your hair to tilt your head back, desperate both for a breath of air and a better view of his guitar pick disappearing beneath your blouse.

“How long?” You asked, wondering how many of those solitary nights camped on his bed, how many of those closing shifts spent thumbing through Beethoven’s classics, how many late-night campaigns could have been substituted for more of this.

“The whole time, I think.” He answered, nose nuzzling into the expanse of your neck. “You?”

“The same. I think.”

A boisterous laugh from the next room over burst your little bubble.

You were in Steve Harrington’s kitchen. It was Christmas night. Eddie Munson was sucking a hickey on the column of your throat like he’d drop dead if he didn’t accomplish his mission.

“I love you.” He pulled back, those doe-eyes finding yours. “You know that, right?”

There had been a time where the very thought of Eddie Munson brought tears to your eyes, memories of that botched audition had you seriously considering dabbling in witchcraft and fashioning a voodoo doll in his likeness. Now, it all felt so warm. Like his mixtape that was surely worn down to the bone with how often you flipped that thing, or his bedsheets tangled in your legs as you spent summer evenings watching him strum his acoustic guitar – the only one his uncle would tolerate at that late hour.

“I know. I love you too.”

It felt like meeting him all over again. This was not the Eddie that had made you cry outside the high school gym. You weren’t the girl who put your name on that audition sign-up sheet. You were just two strangers – deeply, desperately, foolishly destined to love each other until your last breath.

What a perfect introduction.

#eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson imagine #stranger things imagine #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn imagine #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson #stranger things fic #stranger things 4 #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #sab writes

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seafoamreadings · 1 year

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jupiter into taurus!

this is a big ingress, although it may feel overshadowed a bit due to other, bigger ingresses in recent times (saturn in pisces and pluto in aquarius ring a bell?)

but this one is ONLY GOOD. the worst that can happen is an increased appetite (not just for food but for luxury). the bright side of that is all the refinement! you'll not settle nearly so much for subpar goods. only the best. if that means less, then less is more.

work this placement by intentionally toning it down so you don't spend beyond your means but DO NOT shy away from what is in your means - not when it comes to the best textiles, the best nutrients, a beautiful garden.

rarely is such bounty available as when jupiter is in taurus.

with uranus also in taurus, still, there is a revolutionary aspect about it. some examples:

self care is a revolutionary act. take a nap if you want it. eat a cheesecake or whatever it is. put pleasure before work a bit.

rely more on the earth, less on a faceless corporation benefiting from exploitation and subsidies that aren't offered to real, suffering human beings.

wherever you have excess, give to those in need. if you grow tomatoes in your yard, share them with the hungry. if you aren't living paycheck to paycheck, give a little to a local charity. if you have time to kill, spend it at a soup kitchen or women's shelter.

aesthetics are magic, but right now the best aesthetics are more natural makeup products, floral and woodsy smells, oil based perfumes (rather than alcohol), cotton clothing instead of polyester. you get it.

don't skimp out on pleasure and quality, and don't skimp out on the generosity of jove.

have a good time. this is peak auspicious pleasure. needless suffering has no place here.

this is a juicy, delicious, fragrant, tasty year-long transit.

#jupiter into taurus #jupiter in taurus #jupiter #taurus #astrology #transits #ingress

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wellntruly · 7 months

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Blogging, vol. v

I’m having surgery tomorrow. Why this is always happening in November is beyond me, but it sure is an aesthetically kind month to not work and be extra-grade cozy in soft knits, sipping soups, while outside it rains grey on amber.

Unlike my gum surgery last year, this one I had no idea was coming for me, and the weeks getting up to the point of finally knowing what was going to happen were, not to exaggerate, not good. It's odd that it's better now, since it was indeed something you don't want to find. But then you can start to process. Process, process.

I actually tend to do quite well with surgery, both as a concept and a thing to heal from, even before I spent my recovery from the previous one watching a 50 year old TV show about surgeons. I find the kind of pain engendered by things you need stitches about to be quite reasonable mentally; it hurts, it hurts there, for this reason, you have pills to dull it, and it will gradually heal. Simply “feeling sick,” or worst of all nauseous, that’s what can make me wonder what it’s all even for. Miserable, derogatory.

So the fact that it really seems a predominantly surgical approach is going to be most of what we need to take care of this problem has me almost overwhelmed with gratitude. It could have been far, far worse for me. But I have all the most treatable metrics for this, even being rather young for it has the silver lining of meaning I should heal well. And I’m so lucky to have a warm, funny, exceptionally skilled surgeon who actually went through the same thing when she was also my age, and that honestly, I’ve absolutely the Edward Gorey illustration body type to probably even end up looking pretty chic going down to just a bit of an A cup, which is what she's going to be able to do, not to bury the lede. Surprise top surgery, is what I’ve been calling it, and thank you to the boys for the re-contextualizing dream that is the phrase ‘top surgery’, a concept of such positivity; life-affirming, life-saving.

It is a strange, swift-approaching change to reckon with though, impossible to avoid that. I've always tended to dress as if I don’t even have the actually, admittedly, great boobs that I've had up til now, but it is still the body I know. I’ll roll onto my stomach in bed and think, for one that I soon won’t be doing this at all again for a while, and that when I do, it’s going to feel different. Fascinating to consider.

I'm leaning into a sort of Orlando-like curiosity about it, this vague physical transformation just spontaneously befalling me in my adulthood. How will this be. What sort of opportunities might this actually grant. I’ll be endeavoring to hardly ever wear a bra again, I’ll tell you that for certain. Should I use this as the push to finally get a bespoke suit, soft and wide-legged, with a jacket that can fall in just a clean draped line from my shoulders? Will I be able to wear suspenders? I think about watching Margaret Qualley in The Stars At Noon this summer, how I watched her just drop a loose sundress over her bare body, entirely backless, and walk out the door. I think, of course, of "Keira Knightley Atonement," as my inspiration board folder is called.

I’ve also been thinking about this blog, what I think Tumblr user sashayed once called her secret public journal. Sometimes what I or others will post can break into the very real & personal, like this, for the benefit that comes from just releasing, sharing the large challenging things in our lives. I think about a long-time mutual who posted about some of the strangeness she felt during hospitalization for an accident, how recalling some of what she wrote about has brought me a feeling of solidarity in this.

But there’s also how I’ve actually been blogging about this for weeks and weeks, it’s just only been for me. Another kind of secret public journal. This butterfly coming out of a row of cocoons in a window: this was for how I was, fully insanely yes, watching A Zed & Two Noughts while I was wracked with anxiety over what might be going on with my body, but/and the idea of emerging after this surgery new and striking and light. This is self-explanatory. This tiny-chested witch vaulting skulls is “literally me” goals this time next October. This was actually exactly, exactly my vibe getting my biopsy, with the sweetest nurses.

And now at last it all comes together, the public and private journal, on the eve of really what we’re all waiting for, oh god me for sure: the return of painkiller diaries. Painkiller diaries is a lifestyle, actually, it’s an ethos. I let myself so wholly rest after my gum surgery last year that the rest of November was the happiest I’d been in years. Please, again. Return to cashmere convalescence. And would you look at this beautiful soup sippin' mug I’ve gotten since then:

Oh I think we’re ready.

#pers.#blogging

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mitsua · 9 days

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Happy birthday, Asmodeus!

Warnings: mentions of a drunk Asmo, but it wears off pretty quickly, nothing bad.

Genre: fluff & providing slight comfort Series: — 𝑂𝑏𝑒𝑦 𝑚𝑒! - 𝑆𝑊𝐷?!

Pairing: Asmodeus x MC Words count: 795

After the birthday party finishes, you're left with a very happy-looking Asmodeus and his six brothers going right behind you as you make your way towards the limousine that'll get you to the HoL.

You'd pick up yours' and your partner's bags to then arrive with Barbatos who'll transport you to the human world as one of your prepared presents for his birthday.

Asmodeus —who's been waiting for you on the living room as he sobers up— could not stop his mind from wondering just what have you been so excitedly planning to do once you got there that you've lost some sleep for a couple of nights now.

Yes darling, he's noticed that micro-wrinkle you've gotten because of it; and if he's being honest, he's gotten worried too. Then again, yes, he loves being the center of attention and his birthday party guarantees being on the spotlight for a whole day, but he doesn't want you to overwork yourself on whatever you've arranged.

"Ok, I've got everything we need, let's go!" you exclaim as you come rushing down the stairs from Asmo's room, carrying bags with you on one hand.

"Come on," you say once more as you offer him your free hand to take and get up to leave.

"Have a safe trip." Were the last words you two heard from Barbatos as a blinding light desorientated you for a moment to then recognize the night sky of your hometown.

Because day and night function quite differently in the Devildom than in the Human World, you could convince him to hold his party since the beginning of the morning until two hours before the day ends. A strong argument on your favor being that the sky would hold the environment he wishes for all the lights shows he'd hired.

Even if it was a bit difficult to come to that conclusion as he kept telling you all the things he's planned or about things that could come up last minute on the party -mostly the latter- you told him you wanted to show him your present for him before his special day ends, and for this you'd like it to be on your world, just the two of you.

After walking for a few minutes with a light chat about all his experience during the event you've just come from, you arrived at a stylish and modern looking restaurant.

Friendly staff received the both of you, asking if you're the one who reservated.

As you comfirmed the waitress' question, Asmodeus couldn't help but get stunned out of the large and luxurious environment the place held. As if it wasn't enough, another waiter took you to the restaurant's garden, which was simply marvelous; it was all alone because of the time.

The candlelights litting your table, which is worth mentioning, was the only set out there, accompanied the starried night sky of today, the moon outstanding.

You took seat on your places, continuing with the discussion of which outfit benefitted him the most between the three he got changed into through the party.

The background music and the laughs you kept sharing made time pass quicker, many waiters arrived with all kinds of food from your world which didn't fail on making Asmo squeal or get at least one picture before taking a bite, ending with him exclaiming how tasty all of it was.

Asmodeus was far beyond delighted with all the little details you've bein taking care of ever since he mentioned he'd start organizing his birthday party months ago.

You'd suggest which things would go better with the mood and aesthetic he wanted, you'd be right next to him if he got a make-up emergency in the celebration, next to him as he decided it was time to change to his next outfit, next to him as he ranted about the guests clothing choice and still, managed to pull this great three-course meal at the Human World, where he felt even more cherished by you, spending his time next to you surely kept his mind and heart happy.

Asmodeus felt really lucky to be able to spend his time like this, his birthday with you, you who understands many things he's gone and going through, you who listen to him, wish and get to know more about and appreciate him just as much as a fan without knowing anything about him asides his looks would do; you don't mind knowing everything about him, loving him for it, and that is definitely something Asmodeus didn't know he was missing.

"Happy birthday, Asmodeus!"

Adding on a side note; after this, you spent the next morning and evening cuddling together, gushing all about everything you liked to then promise make something similar the next year!

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inuhalfdemon · 1 month

Text

Dirty Dealings (18/21)

Word Count = 4,277 Words

Rating = Mature (SMUT)

Chapter 18: The Truce

"Adeline." Alastor pointed out. "I'm a demon. I make deals. Who is willingly going to give me their soul if they are not miserable and desperate?"

It was getting on to be late evening when Alastor returned to the cabin from his hunting in the surrounding bayou. He had meant to be with Adeline by now but he had felt her turmoil of emotions all day - her emotions shifting from anger to sadness to brooding and back again. He had put off coming back to face this as long as he could, knowing it would be inevitably messy. Through their connection, he had anticipated the type of reception he would receive upon finding her earlier today but he had hoped to stir up something a little more nostalgic as well. Instead, her anger was only sharpening its blade and he carelessly wondered if another seven years absence would be enough to dull the bite of it...

Entering the cabin now, he summoned himself a rye whiskey with the flick of the wrist.

Adeline had made a point of never visiting the cabin after...that night. Whatever she imagined or believed to have happened had unsettled her enough that she was perfectly unwilling to dig into any more details surrounding the event. Alastor still didn't fully understand the situation that left the cabin to their full disposal but it suited him just fine. The cabin was a place he could reside comfortably unbothered at any time and...it fitted his tastes for decor. The aesthetic of it was enough to more than satisfy him but then his hunting grounds lay just beyond the front door; a marvelous real-estate find, to be sure...

Alastor sipped at his whiskey, strolling across the inactive pentagram that remained deeply scorched into the wooden floorboards. He had taken pangs to replace and repair the damage he had inflicted throughout the room years ago. Leaving the pentagram was something he had done for a multitude of useful reasons; one being that when someone inevitably did come to the cabin, they would find it lazily concealed beneath the large throw rug he had currently rolled away in the closet. The thought of how someone might react to finding the large hellish symbol burned into the floor - the way that it was - brought him a great sense of amusement.

Going to the open window, Alastor leaned against the wall and watched the dance of fading light, absently swirling his glass of whiskey. He only had a few loose ends left to tie up before he could entirely focus on finishing his deal with Adeline. These last seven years had benefited him greatly in the establishment of more contracts; he even found a good deal of notables that he intended to repay Rosie with. It had taken an...irritatingly....large amount of his time but Alastor felt like he had more-than-made-up-for the loss of his power that he had experienced.

When he and Rosie decided that it might benefit him to remain on earth; he had worried how Adeline's influence might become rather problematic for him. However, Adeline's distractions in finding out more about her newfound potential aided him by shifting her focus. Sexual intimacy was no longer at the top of her to-be-desired list and he had happily taken advantage of his release from it. Upon leaving, he had fully anticipated having to return periodically to sate her needs when they arose but she never allowed them to reach unmanageable levels...He suspected she did this by finding someone to scratch her itch or even by finding her own moments in personal pleasuring ...which, really, all benefited him in the long run.

He reflected briefly on what his sources here on earth were telling him…more rumors regarding the Morningstars…specifically with Lilith’s on-going absence and the bizarre activities of her daughter, the princess of Hell…Rosie had been right; something was stirring in Hell. He would need to wrap all this up sooner rather than later if he was going pursue this interest of his in finding out more…

He felt Adeline’s flare of anger; heated and stabbing now. She meant to summon him by using the ring…He sighed, finishing off the whiskey. Better now than never...he supposed.

Filling a corner of the living room in shadow; Alastor materialized into Adeline’s loft apartment within New Orleans. It was a newer place of living that Alastor had encouraged her to step up into just prior to his long-term departure.

"Adeline." He greeted her warmly, radio filter crackling softly.

"Have you been collecting souls here in New Orleans!?" She demanded from him immediately.

"No….?” His ears twitched in opposing directions. The question had caught him off-guard. “I mean, yes.... sometimes."

"What kinds of souls are you after when you are looking to collect?” She asked.

"Souls...I wish…to own?" His ears still working in twitching movements, he really wasn’t sure why she was asking him this.

"Okay, but the people you make deals with...what have they done?"

"Hmm." He thought. "I mean, I'm partial to the old-fashioned handshake myself, but-"

Addie threw up her hands.

"The owner of the bookstore downtown, Luc, why is his soul in your possession?"

"Ah, yes.." Alastor chuckled. "I see! You’ve crossed paths with one of my newest clients. A most poor and unfortunate soul, that one; he practically handed himself to me. Rather pitiful really..."

"Is that what you're after? The miserable and the desperate!?” Her voice was rising. “What happened to all those standards you were on about!?"

"Adeline." Alastor pointed out. "I'm a demon. I make deals. Who is willingly going to give me their soul if they are not miserable and desperate?"

"So, what? I was just a type for you!?"

"I don't-“ His ears laid to the side slightly; his eyes shifting. “I don't even know what that means!!!" He told her loudly, exasperated now.

"You're such an asshole!" She yelled at him.

"Why is this something we are fighting about now!?” He was yelling with her, honest in his confusion. “You knew all of this!"

"I just thought...I thought you were better than that, Luc..." She said, quieter now.

"Whatever gave you that idea, my dear? Truly."

He felt a sudden shift in her emotions; something he barely had time to register before she was closing the distance between them. All at once; she was pressed against him and kissing him in a feral manner. Her nails dug wonderfully into the skin along the nape of his neck and she was biting and pulling roughly at his lower lip.

Hungrily, he snarled and pulled her in, gripping her tightly and meeting her wild need. His erection pushed achingly against the seam of his dress pants. She started undoing his bowtie and he had one brief moment of clarity that he struggled to hold on to.

"Adeline..." He groaned pulling away from her kiss and trying to clear his thoughts.

Her mouth broke from his, but then she was biting at his neck. Slipping the bowtie off; she trailed her hand across his jacket, traveling downwards. Finding him, she stroked and palmed at him through the layers of restrictive clothing. He shuddered pleasurably.

"Adeline." He tried again as she pressed herself closer to him; his erection stiffening in response to the increasing pressure she inflicted.

"Ah..." He briefly lost his train of thought, as she slid her hand into his waistband and gripped his swelling and erect member.

She bit sharply into the dip at his neck, her nails dragging across his skin. He felt her need for him…but burning hotter than that was the seething of her anger. If her need for him was great enough, he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop this – but, he had to try.

"ADELINE!" He snarled again, this time gripping her by the shoulders and firmly holding her still. "Stop."

"What the fuck, Luc!?"

"We're not doing this." He told her. "This won't help us..."

"Don't pretend you give a fuck about us when you're the one who left…” She sharply bit back at him. “Or, is this just you avoiding having to sleep with me?"

"No." But, also….yes. "I just... think it's the wrong…headspace."

He remembered how easily he had lost control in his anger...His shadow was gone but he could still very easily kill her if he let things go too far. If he lost himself so easily to his own anger then what might happen if he was entirely consumed in hers?

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Adeline...believe me, I very much want to" He awkwardly gestured to his stiff cock that she was still holding below and within the lining of his dress pants. "Hell, I even had planned to..."

She let go of him, stepping back and out of his hold. He readily let her go.

"Planned to?” She hissed back at him. “Am I just some miserable and desperate bed warmer to you, Luc!?"

"No! Adeline, I-"

"If I offered my soul to you – right now - would you take it?" She asked him, coldly.

He hesitated. "Is this a real offer or?"

"Get out." She told him.

"Adeline, I really - "

"Just....go, Luc." Adeline turned away and he knew she was crying. "I- I can't even look at you so....please....just go."

She didn't see it; but his ears pulled back, lying low to his head...feeling ashamed that he had let things get so out of hand. He had never meant to hurt her quite like this.

Then, doing as she had asked him to...he left.

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Still dressed in her usual morning cozies: a loose-fitting T-shirt and sweatpants, Adeline opened the door. Alastor - in human form - stood in the doorway: dressed in black T-shirt and jeans; clutching two 20 oz. Starbucks coffee cups and a sizeable bag of egg bites.

"If that's actual Starbucks coffee.... I'm slamming this door in your face." Adeline told him crankily.

"The cups are for the coffee and the egg bites are from Starbucks; the coffee - of course - is mine." He told her; offering her hers.

"Ugh. Thank God." She groaned, taking the cup and seeing that 'Adeline' was neatly scrolled across the side. She briefly thought about taking the coffee and slamming the door anyway but then, she noticed his cup had 'Luc' wrote out across it in a similar fashion. She pictured him...going to Starbucks and ordering the coffee and egg bites...telling the barista their names; taking pangs to do this little chore right.

Sipping at the coffee, Adeline stepped aside, inviting him in with a lazy wave of the hand.

Shifting smoothly into his demon form; Alastor stepped into her loft apartment.

"Egg bites, huh?" Adeline asked him; closing the door and following him in.

"I was on my way here and I caught the scent of them as I was passing by. I simply couldn't resist." He shrugged, grinning.

"Fine with me. I'm starving." She admitted.

Going into the living room; Adeline curled herself into the corner of a large, plush sofa. Alastor - with the snap of his fingers - had plates produced for the egg bites; her old radio crackling to life and shifting to something jazzy; vases of bright yellow Daffodils appearing periodically throughout the room. Tilting her head, she considered the flowers as he divvied up their breakfast between the plates. If he ever was going to wave a white flag...this was it.

Alastor handed her a plate; then seated himself on the sofa beside her - keeping a respectable space between them.

Adeline bit into the first egg bite and hummed contentedly. It was delicious and so warm; like it had just been made and directly set onto her plate. Alastor had three finished before she was done with her first; obviously enjoying them as well.

She happily ate another; taking another sip from her coffee, she sighed.

“Yesterday,” She began, picking at the next egg bite on her plate. “I was being…unreasonable. I know what you are, Luc. Of course, I do. And…I know what you do. It’s just –“

She swallowed; trying to keep her emotions in check here.

“You were gone for so long…and then you came back. I was already trying to sort through all of those feelings and then I went to the bookstore and I found – I saw…” A chain? A shackle? Is that what this hold he has on me looks like as well…?

“It was too much.” She confessed.

Alastor, having finished off the last of his portion of the egg bites, set the empty plate aside onto the nearby coffee table. He held his coffee, one long claw tracing the lid of it absently.

“Yes…well. I think I should be able to understand why that would deeply upset you, Adeline. It was insensitive and it was cruel of me – by all accounts – to act in the way that I have.” He acknowledged. “It is of the utmost importance to me, though – my dear – that you know that never have I ever considered you to be my ‘bedwarmer’. Nor have I ever perceived you as anything remotely akin to: miserable and desperate.”

“I know that, Luc. Truly, I do. Though, I’m sure you considered me miserable and desperate once...” She shrugged; making an effort to be blasé about the topic.

“No, Adeline.” He fixed her with a steady gaze. “Not even that night…when you found me in the swamps.”

She breathed deeply through her nose; tears were pricking at her eyes.

Shakily, she released the breath. “Can I…can I ask you to do something…for me?” Her voice sounded weak and soft to her own ears, “You can say ‘no’, of course…”

Alastor tweaked both ears; attentive on her, waiting.

“Could you maybe avoid collecting anymore souls – here - in New Orleans?” Her eyes had shifted to the cup of coffee in her hands; her thumb running lightly against the hand-printed lettering of her name.

“Yes.” Alastor told her. “I think that would be wise.”

Adeline considered asking him – imploring him – to release the soul that she had discovered. She didn’t though because she knew that he wouldn’t. If it were a possibility; if it was something that he was prepared and willing to do; she was sure that he would have offered it. Asking him for something like that now would only lead to more turmoil between them and he was making a significant effort in pursing this truce that he had proposed. Still, there were other touchy subjects that required some broaching…

“So, what are your plans now?” She asked him. “Will you be staying in New Orleans?”

“Yes, Adeline.” He told her. “I still have some tasks that will require my absence from time to time but I do plan to remain here in the area- for the most part.”

“Do you plan on leaving again?” She emphasized this carefully; not wanting him to feel like she was driving another knife into an already bleeding wound but also; needing to know.

“No.” He told her. “That is something I do not intend to do to you – to us – again.”

“If-“ She sighed, the tears were coming and she knew that she wouldn’t be able to stop them. “If something…changes…could you at least, tell me? Luc, please…I – Just, tell me.”

“Yes.” He told her softly. He shifted so that he was closer to her; facing her. He reached out; touching her face, his thumbs catching the tears that were sliding from her eyes and gently brushing them away. He was looking at her and though he was still smiling; Adeline thought that she could see a deep sadness there.

His head tilted slightly; and she leaned into his touch – willing him to do it. Leaning forward; he pressed his lips to hers.

In this moment; despite everything - Adeline knew she very much wanted him.

Feeling her desire; Alastor deepened their kiss, his hands shifting from her face to drag clawed fingers through her long brown hair. Addie pressed herself closer to him; her tongue tracing across his lips and encouraging his mouth open. Sighing; he pulled her to him.

Kissing and shifting; they slowly – tortuously - worked each other out of their clothing. When they both were breathy, sweating and naked – Alastor pushed himself into a corner of the sofa; pulling Adeline on top of him. Adeline straddled his lower waist – kissing him as he leant over to meet her. Using one hand to glide her fingers across his ears and into his hair; she used her other to softly stroke his erect and throbbing member; her fingers pressing and massaging at the firming muscle in her hand.

Twisting his tongue against hers, he gripped her tightly by the thigh with one clawed hand; his other trailing claws through her wet folds, there in-between her legs. Groaning, she pressed herself into his hand; and he carefully worked his fingers in circles around her clit. Feeling her sliding wetness against him; he arched himself into her and she swirled pre-cum along his tip and shaft with the movements of her thumb.

Finally, she shifted and sliding herself over him she rocked her hips; slowly lifting herself up and down along his slick length.

Panting together; they worked their bodies against each others in a delicious friction. Alastor held his head at an angle; accommodating for his antlers as they grew. Adeline grasped onto one of the thickening lengths in her hand; her other braced against his shoulder to give her a better leverage in their position. Thrusting his hips to meet her; Alastor squeezed and massaged at her breasts; his fingers tightening around each nipple intermittently.

A simmering heat coated their skin; painting them both in a deepening red. Alastor thrust himself deeply into her and Adeline jerked and gasped pleasurably; changing the movements of her hips so that he was angling into her at just the right spot. Alastor groaned and grunted; moving one clawed hand to her back and sliding claws along her sweating skin; painting her with soft red patterns.

Moaning; Adeline leaned into him; shifting them both into an incredibly stimulating – grinding – rhythm.

With eyes glazed over, Alastor watched as she arched herself over him; her walls gripping and tightening around him as she reached her climax. It unraveled him. Shuddering with her; he completed one final thrust before he found his own remarkable release inside her.

They paused there; panty and sweaty – relishing in the moment of their afterglow.

Adeline shifted and Alastor moved to give her room on the couch but she slipped off of him then, taking his hand she pulled him with her – leading him still naked with her, to the bedroom.

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

Afterward, Adeline laid in bed awake – lost in her own thoughts – as Alastor laid fully across her; his head buried into the base of her neck as he breathed calmly and evenly.

She absently played with his ears; softly scratching and rubbing at the soft velvety skin and fur. Completely relaxed there with her; his ears twitched and flicked languidly at her touch. His ears had so much movement to them in moments like this…she suspected that he was very careful to refrain these visible expressions otherwise – another way to keep his cards close to his chest - much like his ever-present smile.

He turned his head slightly; re-adjusting himself and sighing contentedly.

“What happens to them…?” She suddenly asked him, soft and calm. “To the souls you hold?”

Alastor felt her calm; her genuine curiosity and knew she was really, truly wondering.

“Well, they are a source of power; but in many ways – not just one. They can enhance the abilities I possess; give me strength – longevity… They can also be used as a type of currency; or something of value. There is more to it than that but it simply goes beyond comprehension.” Whether she meant just for her or anyone, she wasn’t sure. She listened to the radio filtering of his voice; felt the vibrations of it through her chest as he spoke.

“You said mine…specifically, was valuable. Are not all souls valuable to you?” She asked him.

“Oh, yes…any soul – be it purely whole or one that is tainted and tattered holds some value to it.” He replied.

“But, mine can’t be pure. I’m not even religious.” She told him.

Alastor chuckled at that; his breathy laughs touching her skin in a pleasant way.

“And therein lies the crux to it all - dearest Adeline. Religion has nothing to do with it. A soul's purity...the thing that gives it the power I seek....is not deteriorated by regrets, sins or mistakes. It is the truest reflection of intention. Believe you me, even those some might consider to be the utmost devote in their ways of worship wouldn't bring much to offer at my table. It’s their intentions that is what determines it.”

“So religion…is pointless?” She questioned.

“No...I wouldn't say so. More that it can easily be used to disguise one's true intents. The idea of religion - as a whole - can align and motivate souls in seeking a kind of purpose. You, yourself, know what life feels like without one... it's not very much worth living and honestly, with no purpose are you not dead already – in a sense? The foundations of religions may have been built upon ill intent – I cannot say, I do not know - but that doesn't mean it can't help guide some on their way.”

“You told me that my soul was valuable to you because of its potential. Potential for what exactly?” She was trying to remember that far back; those years ago when he first brought it up to her in the restaurant he had fashioned.

“It's the potential of your intention, my dear. All you ever wanted, Adeline, was to make a significant impact; to make a difference, to be important to and remembered by others but in a way that was purposeful, meaningful. I tried to take that from you; to seal your potential so that when you surrendered your soul to me; that amount of power would remain. You found your way around my little clause; as I suspected someday you might....and by doing so your potential has increased exponentially.”

“So...my soul is only worth more to you now?” She clarified.

“Incredibly so.” He hummed.

“Any soul can be valuable to you? Then, what did you mean by having standards back then? I don’t understand it.” Still playing with his ears; she absently moved her fingers to the base of one of his antlers; Alastor sighed at the pleasant scratching she did there.

“Even the least desirable of souls will always be worth more than nothing, Adeline. I simply prefer to not waste my time with scraping the bottom of the barrel looking for scraps if I am able to avoid it.”

“One of those souls...one that holds little value...can they find that value eventually? “ She wondered.

“You are wondering about redemption, whether it is something that is possible; achievable? If so...I have not seen it. Not truly, anyway. A murderer may save a life, but their intention to harm was there before.” He said softly.

“So...what about your soul? Do you even have one? Or…did you…once?” She wasn’t sure how she should be asking the question exactly.

Alastor laughed, turning his head and looking at her now.

"You'll find no answers from me in regard to that...but I'd love to know your theory." He smirked at her.

“I…” She stopped; really trying to decide here. “I…honestly… I don't know.”

He laughed again.

“Sorry. Was that considered a rude question?” She asked; realizing she didn’t know the etiquette with this sort of thing. “Is it okay? Me asking you these questions…? Are you even supposed to be telling me all of this?”

“It's inconsequential to me whether you know my thoughts or opinions in this area. Mind you, I don't have all the answers myself.” He answered her, honestly.

She was quiet then; thinking...

“Shall I leave you to your wandering mind, my dear, or....” Moving, Alastor propped himself onto his elbows, holding her face in his hands. “Shall I selfishly command your attention back to me and where we are now?”

She felt his body shifting over hers; his recovering erection pressing sharply into her thigh.

He kissed her. Swiping a loose lock of hair away from her eyes.

“I'm here...with you, Adeline…” He told her softly; words echoing to her from some long forgotten dream.

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Tentatively, Adeline felt her and Alastor falling back into their old motion of things. They had been here before though...so, she couldn't help but wonder how long - or if - it could actually last. But, anytime Alastor planned to be away from her for any significant amount of time; he was carefully mindful to inform her of his planned comings-and-goings.

Weeks later; just as they would be seeing the beginnings of the month of May - Alastor told her his absence would be required for roughly a few days. She felt both a hope and a relief with him telling her this. He still had his loose ends to tie up and he planned to follow up with at least one of his sources.

Hugging him; Adeline said her goodbyes. He kissed her lightly on the forehead; letting go of her hand and slipping away through a green and swirling portal.

When he had departed, the portal snapping closed with a soft hiss; she immediately grabbed her keys, her wallet and the copy of Beowulf that was leant to her. Hurrying out the door; she made her way down from the stairs to her loft apartment; heading into downtown New Orleans to talk to the owner of the bookstore.

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Chapter 19

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