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munson-blurbs · 6 months

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Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

Day 9 of TUI-Mas

Warnings: pregnancy, angst, mention of Harris's bio mom, happy ending I swear

WC: 1.5k

September 1999

Another school year is underway, the warm weather slightly chilled with the beginnings of an autumn breeze. The leaves remain on the branches of the oak tree in front of Jeff and Viv’s house, providing a sliver of shade as you walk up the front steps.

The two of you try to get together once in a while for a mom lunch; Eddie usually brings Harris over to play with Ettie while he and Jeff reminisce about the good old days of Hellfire Club and playing pranks on Principal Higgins. Today, however, Harris is at Wayne’s for some “Grampa-Har Bear bonding time,” so you and your husband are on your own.

“You look gorgeous,” Eddie murmurs in your ear as you ring the doorbell, hearing the chime softly echo from within the house. “Wish that wasn’t a maternity dress so you could wear it all the time.”

You roll your eyes at his flirtatiousness, a giggle giving away how tickled you are at the compliment. You truly do feel beautiful in this dress; the skirt swishes around your ankles with each gentle movement like you’re a princess.

Viv opens the door with a smile far too wide for someone who can’t get a cocktail with her entree. “Come on in, head into the kitchen and grab some water. It’s still pretty hot out there.”

“But then I’ll have to pee.” Your unborn son seems to enjoy using your bladder as a makeshift drum set; Eddie has been telling Gareth that he’ll have some competition for the band’s percussionist once the baby arrives. Still, you oblige, trudging towards the overhead cupboard to grab a—

“SURPRISE!”

Your heart leaps at the burst of voices; you bring a palm to your chest. “Wh-What?”

“It’s your baby shower, my love.” Eddie stands behind you and rests his head on your shoulder, hands wrapping around your bump. “To celebrate Baby Munson.”

“Oh, my God.” Tears spring to your eyes and roll down your cheeks in rivulets, no doubt smearing the mascara you’d applied before arriving. You give Viv a squeezing hug—the best you can manage with both of you pregnant—and turn to the group of people in her living room.

Robin and Jess jump up from the sofa to embrace you, and your co-workers whom Viv’s invited follow suit. You get choked up yet again when you spot Max Mayfield next in line to greet you.

“Did you really fly in for this?” you ask incredulously, pulling back to get a better look at her. She’s cut her bright red hair a little shorter so it frames her face and her blue eyes hold the exhaustion from her demanding doctorate program, but she’s still the same Max you know and love.

She nods enthusiastically. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” She leans in and whispers, “I knew you were the one for Eddie from the first time I saw how he looked at you. Like you’re this flower that blooms no matter the weather.”

“Okay, Almost-Doctor of English literature,” you tease her poetic waxing. Jane Hopper shyly steps out from behind her and you hug her as well.

Viv clears her throat to grab the party’s attention. “Thank you all for being here today,” she begins timidly, not used to having all eyes on her. “Since Baby Munson seems to have a major sweet tooth, we’re skipping a formal lunch and going straight to dessert!” Her announcement is met with cheers and she directs the guests towards the abundance of cakes and cookies in the kitchen.

You’re pulled towards the scent of freshly-brewed coffee, still steaming in the carafe. “That one’s decaf,” Viv informs you, pointing to the pot on the left hand side. You pick it up, careful not to burn your knuckles on the hot glass, and tilt it into a paper cup with Showers of Love for Baby Munson stamped on the side.

“Should you be drinking coffee?” Genuine concern seeps from Eddie’s words. “I mean, is it safe for the baby?” Before you can respond, he’s taking the cup from your grasp and placing it on the kitchen counter.

You furrow your brows, the tiniest disbelieving laugh escaping your lips. There’s no way he’s serious, right?

“Eds, it’s decaf,” you reassure him, still unsure of his intentions. “Besides, having a little bit of coffee isn’t going to hurt the baby.” You reach for the cup, but he just pushes it back farther from you.

His jaw steels, carefully mulling over his words despite his building frustration towards your dismissiveness. “Right, but it still contains trace amounts of caffeine. And it could stunt his growth and lead to, like, brain development issues.”

“Look,” you seeth, a hushed tone poorly masking your raging hormones, “I don’t need you hovering over me, okay? Do you not trust me or something?”

“I do. I do trust you.” But there’s a telltale pause beforehand that makes you believe otherwise. He notices your small step back, a dagger dangling just above your heart. “Sweetheart, it’s–”

You walk away with a shake of your head, determined to enjoy your baby shower. Eddie is a protective person–it’s one of his qualities that you most admire–but this errs on the side of controlling.

Dutifully, you sit down on your chair at the head of the Reynolds’ living room, digging into a slice of vanilla sponge cake and easing back into the upbeat atmosphere. You unwrap boxes of cartoon-stamped shirts and onesies, the tiniest clothing articles you’ve ever seen. Max has even managed to find a pajama set with the outline of an electric guitar stitched on the front. Your lap overflows with bottles, crib sheets, and pacifiers while Eddie hangs back in the kitchen.

“This last one is just a little something we all chipped in for,” Jess announces, excitedly thrusting a small envelope in your direction. You tuck your thumb under the seal and open it, revealing a gift card to Enzo’s.

“For your first date night after Baby Munson’s arrival,” Viv chimes in, her fingers curling around her own coffee cup. “Jeff and I will babysit,” she offers kindly. “It’s important to keep the romance alive.”

Robin scoffs from her corner of the sofa. “Yeah, like these two will have a problem with that.” She playfully rolls her eyes. “If you look up ‘lovesick’ in the dictionary, you’ll find their pictures.”

Your cheeks burn with embarrassment’s heat as everyone else agrees with her. From the corner of your eye, you see Eddie pouring a fresh cup of decaffeinated coffee and preparing it just as you like it. He shuffles into the room, his empty hand shoved into his front pocket. The brush of his lips on your scalp is an apology, a sentiment you both echo and accept with a squeeze of his forearm.

“See?” Robin continues with a teasing grin. “Absolutely sickening.”

“Thank you guys,” Eddie says, resting his palms on your shoulder as you take a sip of coffee. “For the gift card, for the shower, for always supporting us.”

You place your hand on your bump and nod. “Baby Munson is already feeling the love,” you agree. As if emphasizing your point, he softly kicks within your womb in a heartbeat-esque flutter.

The car ride home is quiet but not uncomfortable, you and Eddie unwinding after the eventful day. Angus Young croons in the background as Eddie speaks.

“I trust you.” His fingers hover over your thigh, hesitant to touch you if you’re still angry with him. “And I know you’re not…I know this isn’t like with Harris…” He stumbles over his words, trying not to offend you while still making a point.

“Eds.” You hold his hand in yours, eyes shiny with understanding. The unconditional love you have for Harris, the ease with which he calls you ‘Mommy,’ often has you forgetting that you’re not his biological mother. “I’ll never, ever do anything to hurt our children. I feel bad enough when I accidentally step on Harris’s toes.” You lean over and kiss his cheek, leaving a remnant of lipstick on his stubble. “Decaf coffee, in moderation, is fine during pregnancy.”

Eddie lets go of you to rub the swell of your stomach. “Little man’s not gonna be doing backflips in there?” he asks with a mischievous grin, the tension between you dissipating.

You laugh and shake your head. “Nope, just doing his best Pelé impression,” you say with a wince as the baby kicks again.

He notices when you stifle a yawn moments later. “I’ll wake you when we get home,” he promises, lowering the radio so you can rest.

You’re lulled to sleep as he drives, hearing him hum along with the music under his breath. Since your eyes are closed, you don’t catch the way he looks over at you and smiles.

“Love you, sweet girl,” he whispers, bringing his attention back to the road but keeping his thoughts trained on the woman he loves.

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #tui

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trashmouth-richie · 8 months

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pt 1: flicker

summary: Hawkins Annual Halloween Festival is in town, and this year you and your friends were lucky enough to work the event. But when some of your co-workers are missing, and a trail of blood leads to the woods behind the festival. Your friends work together to find out what’s going on. A killer is on the loose but who could it be? Or is it the town’s spooky secret of what really happened at Hawkins Lab?

[tickets] [flyer] [clipboard]

pt 2: A SCREAM AND A SLICE

summary: the day is finally here and our joyful crew arrives to get their assignments for the work day.

tw: 18+ only goodbye minors, billy hargrove smut, billy hargrove being a disgusting human being, mentions of drinking and drugs, character death x 3, hallucinations, drunk behavior, etc childhood background stories.

The air is cool and crisp, fluttering an ombré of red and orange leaves all over the carnival. Staff was to arrive no later than 8 o’clock, sporting burnt orange Hawkins Haunted Carnival shirts with red hems on the neck and arms. “STAFF” printed on the back in black bold letters.

Robin's hair and makeup looked exactly like it did last night, a little smudgy and unkept, the style suiting her personality and image to a T. She was holding onto Steve’s arm while picking gum from the bottom of her dirty converse.

“Fuck I hate kids,” she grumbled, wiping the last bit of the pink wad of bubble gum on the grass.

Argyle, Nancy, and Jonathan stood and watched. Nancy with her hair in a perfect pulled back ponytail showcasing her bone structure and light makeup, was wide eyed and bushy tailed, making up for the lack of enthusiasm everyone else brought with them this morning.

Argyle’s long pin straight hair is braided down his back, and he looks almost half asleep, or maybe he was just high, but more than likely that was just him in general.

You yawned loud behind your hand for the second time since racing into the parking lot, Eddie poked you in the ribs and shook his head, he had wanted to stop at the gas station for some badly brewed coffee this morning upon finding out that your apartment was lacking any sort of caffeine, but you were already going to be late and Mr. Creel’s speech last weekend about not being on time, would scare anyone straight.

That is unless you were Billy Hargrove.

Billy rolled in a full thirty minutes past the time all staff were expected to be dressed and ready to go. A cigarette hung lazily from his mouth and the hickies on his neck were splotchy and fading yellow on the edges. He was clutching a can of beer upon walking over to the group, finishing the contents and tossing it behind his shoulder.

His chin nodded to Eddie in that douchey dude type of greeting. One he reciprocated with flared nostrils and tense shoulders.

Billy and Eddie used to be as thick as thieves, running like hellions through the trailer park, with you trailing behind them, trying to keep Eddie out of trouble. They had disturbed any little sort of peace that the tenants ever found there. They tormented the occupants of Forest Hills by egging their houses or lighting bags of dog shit ablaze on their steps.

But the boys were left to their vices much like their parents were. Neil and Al knew each other from high school, oftentimes spending nights at the Hargroves kitchen table laughing after many beers about the cars they’d stolen and the broads they shared. Hands around their chests like parentheses to emphasize the breast size of one in particular.

Billy’s apple didn’t fall far from Neil’s tree, a ladies man but rotten to the core. However when it came to Eddie and Al, it was almost as if Eddie’s apple was from a different tree entirely, rough on the edges and a little banged up, but the inside was sugary sweet, much tastier than the sour bite Billy’s had to offer.

You never forgave the blue eyed boy for pushing you off your bike, a scar still etched into your knees, or for chasing you around with a snake he caught by Coolwater Creek.

Eddie wiped your tears when you cried to him about how mean Billy was. His own brown eyes welling seeing you so upset. He convinced him to leave you alone. And since that day, you were the driving wedge between them at 8 years old and you stayed there up until last year, when the tie that bound them together was ripped apart.

“You’re late Billy-boy,” Mr. Creel sneered, the pierce of his blue eyes shining like heated crystals, “do you not own a watch?”

“Just got in,” Billy said with a yawn, his muscular arms stretching over his head and showcasing his abs when his shirt rode up.

“I guess I wasn’t aware you had another job.”

“Oh I’m not paid for this type of manual labor, I do it for free.” He glances over at you and shoots you a wink. And the shiver that shook through you was anything but pleasant.

Steve rolls his eyes, pulling Nancy into his front and resting his chin on the top of her head.

Eddie shifts to the side of you that billy is closest too and blocks his view. He made your skin crawl like it was infested with bugs.

You didn’t like him anymore than he liked you, Heather Holloway was one of the sweetest girls you’d ever met, and to this day you couldn’t figure out why she fell in his traps. He didn’t care about her, only used her to keep his bed warm when he was out doing God knows what with God knows who. His dick was dirtier than a pile of laundry, and he was out of detergent.

“Let’s not make this a habit, we have a festival to run, and you,” Mr. Creel says, thumbing through a clipboard, “… are on Corn Maze Duty until sun down, then you’re driving the Haunted Hayride like we discussed last week.”

“Munson, you and Pebbles? Is that a real name?,”

“no,” you say with a laugh, nudging Eddie in the ribs, he was the only one called who still called you that after your moms had decided to dress you both as Pebbles & Bam Bam for Halloween one year, for Eddie, the name stuck, “it's a nickname from when we were—

“Don’t care.”

“You two are on rides, Hairyten—

“It’s Harrington,” Steve interjects but Mr. Creel doesn’t stop.

“.. will take over for you at sundown and then your ‘band’ takes the stage.”

Billy scoffs around a lit cigarette and Eddie puts a hand on your shoulder to stop you from reaching around him to slap the mustache off his face.

“Girl Wheeler and R-guy-el are on games… Buckley, you and Hairytoes will be working the ice cream stand, Byers you’re in charge of taking promotional photos. Please make sure the children are smiling. I don’t need any snot nosed little brats blubbering while getting their face painted like a clown, it will drive down sales.”

Jonathan nods with wide eyes, checking his bag with fumbling fingers making sure he had extra lenses and plenty of film.

Nancy stands at attention, flipping through her binder full of the game rules, she had been studying it all week, not wanting to give Mr. Creel any sort of assumption that she wasn’t taking her position seriously.

“Relax Nance,” Steve purred, a little louder than a whisper, “you’re gonna kick ass at this.”

You didn’t know Steve Harrington was capable of being supportive of another person until Nancy came along. When they first started going out Eddie and you took bets on whether or not it would last. Nancy wasn’t anything like the other trashy girls at your school throwing themselves at King Steve any and every chance they got.

She was reserved and shy. Pretty in a classy way, minimal makeup needed on her cherub features. And Steve fell hook line and simp er for her. He lost friends, lost his title at school but he didn’t care. He felt unstoppable with Nancy on his arm.

It made you wish you had a love like theirs, minus the breaking up part, you had dated before but nothing that would last.

You remember spending a very drunk night with Eddie once on the roof of his trailer, begging him to tell you who he thought was the hottest girl in school. Going through every grade, every single girl from the mathletes to the athletes, the teased hair of Tina down to the short bob of Barb, but he wouldn’t budge.

“Come on, Eddie .. that was every girl in the school besides Shit teeth O’Donnell.” you laughed and rolled into his chest, spilling beer onto his shirt, your chin sitting on his sternum as he looked at you with a serious stare.

“Not every girl.”

“Yeah huh,” you poked at his ribs and his armpits only for him to overpower you completely and pin you down, the ends of his hair tickling your cheeks had you squealing.

“Say uncle or I’m gonna make you piss yourself.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

The dark glint of mischief in his eye wasn’t lost on you,

“D’ you know me at all?”

The night ended with your jeans and underwear in Eddie’s washing machine, his boxers on your waist after you took a shower and used all of his conditioner. A $3.00 payback for him actually tickling you until you peed yourself, you were just happy Wayne wasn’t home when you waddled through the Munson trailer with wet pants and a hyena laughing Eddie behind you.

Diversion was his best game, because he never answer your question.

“Remember.” Mr Creel said pointing to you and Eddie, “two minute rides if there isn’t a line, one minute rides sounds perfectly fine, three minutes and they’ll puke on the floor, 4 minutes and you’re at Satan’s door.”

He recited the creepy poem without blinking, simply looking from your face and back to Eddie’s, a grim smile on his Curt lips. When he was through he turned on his heel and walked away, snapping at Heather and Chrissy to get to the face painting station.

“Well that wasn’t weird at all.” Eddie said, arms crossed and an eyebrow raised into his frizzy bangs, clearing his throat.

“Yeah no shit,” Steve grimaced, “such a weird mother fucker.”

Nancy shut her binder and spoke to you, “sorry about last night— I think I’m just a little stressed.”

“No worries, Nance, Eddie ended up staying at my place and we smoked a bit and went to sleep.”

“Don’t forget about that weird shit with the streetlights,” Eddie chimed in.

“Streetlights?” Jonathan asked you, “what about ‘em?”

“Nah man it’s cool,” Eddie chirped in, lighting a cigarette and offering it to Jonathan, “Pebs and I smoked a little too much, thought we saw some weird shit, that’s all.”

“Well, my lights went out last night, went outside to check it out and the whole street was dark.”

Maybe you weren’t high as fuck lastnight on Rick’s Redrum. What if there was actually something strange going on.

“Did they turn red and explode?” you ask him, trying not to seem too alarmed that someone else who wasn’t high and on the complete opposite side of town experienced the weird lights.

He picks a scab on his arm between blunt fingernails, uninterested in the conversation, “no idea, just noticed they were burnt out..didn’t see anything else, but hey, I’ll see you guys later okay, I forgot my wallet.”

With that he turns and leaves, holding his satchel close to his body so the expensive camera attachments don’t break.

Steve and Nancy kiss each other goodbye and Argyle steps forward to Steve batting his eyelashes, “what about me handsome?” He laughs before Steve can smile awkwardly and walks beside Nancy, asking about her new Reeboks.

“Six months since we played truth or dare at Munson’s and that guy won’t let it go,” Steve says, shaking his head, “see ya later, don’t have too much fun,” with that he grabs Robin’s elbow and directs her towards the Scoops Ahoy stand.

Eddie laughs at the memory of a peachy cheeked Steve leaning in to press his lips to Argyle’s. A dare that had Nancy in tears, and had you comforting her for an entire week.

It was the same night that you had drunk almost an entire handle of vodka and woke up naked in Eddie’s bed, next to Jonathan.

To this day you don’t remember what happened.

You left in a hurry when you woke and realized the sleeping body next to you was not only naked but belonged to Jonathan Byers, and you didn’t have any panties on.

Grabbing your clothes and shoving your feet into your shoes, you stepped over Argyle’s cocooned form in the hallway— using the bathroom rug as a blanket.

Tiptoeing over the squeaky parts of the linoleum floor you made a glance to the living room and saw that Eddie was sawing logs in Wayne’s recliner.

You felt dirty, full of shame and guilt as you looked at him forlornly, not able to nail down why you had felt that way. Eddie and you were friends, nothing more than that.

The door shut behind you in a quiet creak and you sped home as fast as you could, bleary eyed and confused.

Thankfully, Jonathan wasn’t upset when you told him the next day that you didn’t remember what had happened, and he was relieved, chuckling with a hand on the back of his neck, because he hadn’t remembered that night either.

You vowed to never tell a soul about that night, and you waited for Eddie to ask you about it, to make some crack about him finding your panties in his room, but he never spoke a word of it.

You stifle a nervous laugh, “yeah that night was crazy.”

“yeah no shit, Wayne’s still mad that I ruined his cowboy boots.”

You smack his chest with the keys, laughing at the memory of his white ass and wild hair running down the dirt road, wearing only Wayne’s boots and his cowboy hat to cover his dignity, the first dare of the night, “c’mon, Munson, I’ll race ya.”

The day flew by, people came from all around to shove their asses into the metal seats of the rides you and Eddie were in charge of.

Kids of all ages ate melty ice cream and got their faces painted into princesses, witches, pumpkins and spooky ghouls and goblins.

Eddie’s little gaggle of DnD buddies from high school ran through the carnival like they owned the place. Hootin’ and hollerin’ making themselves look like a bunch of assholes, and you wondered if he sometimes missed that part of being in school.

Steve and Robin were fending off Erica Sinclair and her many attempts at getting free samples, but realizing if they did give her what she wanted, they’d run out of ice cream and have to close up earlier than expected. Erica Sinclair would later leave the carnival with a sugar high and a stomach ache.

Argyle gave away the giant stuffed bear on the first ring toss game, earning him a psychotic look from Creel and whiny kids all day not having anything to look forward to when they won, but nothing a few coupons to Surfer Boy Pizza wouldn’t fix when the parents got involved. Nancy was almost in tears at the way Argyle didn’t follow the rules and his dude-like approach to the day's events.

—

Robin was in a mood, her normal chaotic rambling mouth self was eerily quiet today. An abnormality for the freckled face girl. And Steve was doing what any normal best friend would; hounding her on what the hell was going on.

“Drop it pretty boy, I mean it I am fine!” She tossed the ice cream scoop back into the carton container and slammed the freezer door, huffing and lighting a cigarette.

He saw the way her demeanor changed when Vickie showed up to the carnival with her boyfriend. The same boyfriend who Vickie had promised Robin that she had dumped months beforehand.

Steve watched as Robin’s eyes flashed with hurt and anger as Vickie sauntered up to the Scoops Ahoy booth, no look of guilt or shame anywhere on her porcelain features, she acted completely oblivious to Robin’s behavior, like she had never even met her before.

“She’s a bitch Robin,” Steve jabbed, hooking a thumb over his shoulder and wiggling his keys, "I'll go run her over with my car right now if that’d make you feel better.”

She had to admit, watching the light leave Vickie’s eyes might make her feel better. The crushing of her bones would play like a symphony in her head. She wanted her to hurt just as much as she was right now.

“Nah,” Robin says shaking her head, “not worth it, let’s just get day drunk instead, or better yet,” she pushed her ass onto the counter, and swung her hips out to the opening, her long legs hitting the dirt and crunching beneath her converse, “is Argyle still working games with Nance?”

—

“That’s what I’m sayin’ man, fuckin’ aliens and shit,” Argyle says with blood shot eyes, “this town, it’s crawlin with em, you’re not one of them are you, Byers?”

Argyle was on one of his many pot induced tangents about aliens and monsters. It was hard to tell if he was just high or if he truly believed in multi dimensional beings that walked the same paths we did but were hidden from us by the government.

“I think,” Jonathan says, adjusting his camera around his neck and holding it to eye level, “that you spend too much time with Munson,” he angled the camera just right and snapped the shutter button. Capturing candids of kids throwing softballs at steel milk jugs set into a triangle.

Argyle wipes his upper lip and throws a braided lengthy lock behind his shoulder, “and how do you know Eddie is wrong? M-Maybe Dungeons & Dragons is real. And the dice is like, the days we have left,” his eyes widen further as he licks at his lips absentmindedly, rambling on, “Eddie’s putting us all into little situations, so he’s like a- a god or a master! Like figurines and shit…”

Jonathan tries his best to drown out Argyle’s stoned ‘epiphanies’ knowing all too well the rabbit hole he’d fall down and wouldn't be able to see the light of day until the lasting effects of purple palm tree delight subsided.

Argyle’s eyes go wide, “…yeah I hope I got a long sword or something, I’ll definitely need it.”

“DnD isn’t real,” Jonathan huffs in annoyance, “it’s a fantasy game, one designed to make you think outside of normal everyday life, at least that’s what Will says.”

“Will the Wise,” Robin calls from behind them, her long fingers tangled in her hair, trying to put her short cut into two little ponytails, “isn’t that what they call him?”

Jonathan nods, “yeah, yeah it is.” A smile of appreciation on his face, “how’s ice cream going? I saw Vickie… sorry.”

“Love that kid, and yeah that’s why I’m here, need to forget,” she says leaning against the softball toss, the toe of sneaker catching the knee of Argyle’s colorful pants, her forefinger and thumb up to her lips, “you carrying today or do I actually have to pay Munson?”

“Nah little birdy, I’m all out,” Argyle says with eyelids half closed, “but I heard Rick’s runnin’ some new shit, kinda psychedelic like.”

—

By six in the afternoon, Eddie was crabby and ready for Steve to take over. His hair was sweaty and a bandana was tied around his head. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, showing off his muscles and the tattoos on his arms.

“Take it easy with this shit, ‘m serious,” Eddie says passing Robin the joint and pocketing the cash, “we saw some weird shit last night after smoking, just go to the woods or somethin where no one will see you.”

Robins fingers clasp the paper of the joint and hold it into a loose fist, she bows and salutes Eddie, “Aye aye cap’n, I promise, I’ll be good.”

He watched her leave and shook his head. He didn’t know the entire ins and outs of Robin’s relationship with Vickie, but he knew enough that Robin was hurt more than she was happy, and he felt bad for her.

At least Robin was brave enough to be her true self. Eddie couldn’t even tell the girl he had a crush on for years that he liked her.

“These kids are fucking assholes,” he said to you when you brought him a lemonade and bummed him a smoke, “yeah I’m talking to you Mayfield, shouldn’t even be on this ride with two broken arms but what the hell do I know?”

The redhead flipped him a double bird and yelled out, fucker! as her basket on the Zipper spun faster and faster.

“Were we like this sophomore year?” Eddie asks you around a puff of smoke.

“Oh absolutely not,” you said matter of factly, “we were worse.” A smile breaks from your lips and Eddie returns it, only his crinkled out your favorite dimple.

“Fuck man,” he exhaled, hitting a random button on the ride, and raising his eyebrows when it beeped back at him and shook the baskets loudly, “this whole town still thinks I did that shit to Higgin’s dog.”

It wasn’t a secret what had happened. And as much as everyone swore it was Eddie who did that heinous crime, he was with you that night, stealing cartons of cigarettes from the gas station while the attendant was busy trying to get your number and look down your shirt.

You knew Eddie was innocent but the town wasn’t convinced, even Wayne questioned him for a while about it. But Eddie wouldn’t squeal on you, knowing that you were just as guilty as he was, and he wouldn’t tarnish your squeaky clean reputation. Not even to save himself.

“We know the truth, and that’s what matters,” you breathe, stealing the cigarette from his hands and placing it into your mouth.

Eddie shakes his head, “yeah I know, just wish we knew who did do it.”

“Ri runno Raggy,” you said using your best Scooby Doo impression, “rits a rystery.”

Eddie chuckles and shows you his dimples again, a pretty blush painted on his cheeks, “you can always get me to laugh, even when I’m pissed the fuck off at some little shits.”

He plucks the rest of the cigarette from your lips and takes the last drag between his thumb and forefinger before flicking it off into the dirt.

He brushes an eyelash from your cheek with his knuckle, and he holds it there for a bit, unconsciously licks at his lips, “That’s why you’re my favorite,” he admits for the one hundredth time, but it still felt good to hear. Still made your stomach somersault and the glittery butterflies flutter.

Before you can say anything the kids on Eddie’s ride start screaming to get off, having been spinning upside down for over the time limit. Satan’s door according to Creel.

“Shit,” he mutters before turning the ride down, the heat on your cheeks and the burn from his finger still there.

—

“c’mon I know you wanna,” the clink of his flask unscrewing followed by the chugging slurp from his throat burned her ears, but not more than the red pock marks on her forearm from his cigarette ashes.

She didn’t want to lose him, she knew how lucky she was that he tolerated her and kept her around. After all he only fucked the other girls to piss off their boyfriends. But she meant something to him. Right?

“Are you sure no one will see us?” She was used to the thrill of being with Billy, mistaking the fight or flight feeling for adoration, the crazed look in his eye for lust.

He was everything all the other guys in Hawkins were not. A legendary bad boy. All leather jackets and tight jeans, the prettiest eyes she’d ever seen, a fast car that smelled of musky cologne, cigarettes and sex on Friday nights.

He had shown her things only seen in movies, hickied her up in spots that only he would see, and fucked her in places that would make Satan himself jealous.

Heather Holloway was completely wrapped up in everything Billy Hargrove brought to the table, only to be leaving starved for more.

“Who fuckin’ cares,” he grunts, lighting a cigarette and blowing it towards the orange painted sky, “ain’t nothin’ they haven’t seen before.”

She obeyed like she always did, a simple okay Billy and she was on her knees in the soft upturned soil, nothing but a single row of pale yellowing corn stalks behind her, rustling against the breeze and knocking against one another in a broken violin screech.

She adjusts her dark curls away from her face, and waits with an eager mouth for what he has to offer. The teeth of his zipper purr as he undoes his pants, holding a thick meaty cock up to her pretty lipgloss smile.

He’s putty in her hands, rocking his hips up to shove himself further into her mouth, and he groans when he falls into her wet throat.

Fuck Heather, that’s it.

He doesn’t hear the scraping of the corn leaves on a quiet shoulder, or the way the dirt crumbles underneath footsteps. He’s high above it, drunk on the feel of his dick in Heather's mouth, and the slight graze of her teeth against his shaft.

The blade is dull, taking much effort to slice through the muscles of Billy’s back and angling upwards beneath his ribs into his lungs.

Billy gags and gurgles on his own blood, noises that could be easily mistaken for pleasure. The knife is unsheathed and slid across Billy’s throat in a fluid motion spilling claret colored blood down the front of his shirt, he’s dead before he hits the ground.

Heather is frozen with fear, she lets out a scream that’s stopped cold by the blade puncturing her temple, her lifeless body falling to the soft ground with a thud.

The blade is wiped clean. Any blood splatters are left on the mask and hidden in the tree line, their lifeless bodies are stuffed further into the corn maze, vacant expressions on their cold faces.

—

“… Jesus Christ.”

“Beautiful isn’t it?”

Standing 10 feet tall and brandishing slick, gray translucent skin, the flower head shaped monster screeched at the sight and smell of blood pumping, racing.

“Exactly how he described, I can't believe the tunnel leads here.”

“The tunnels are all over Hawkins, he designed it, just like they said he would. Now c’mon, sun is about to set and I need help figuring out this code, son-of-a-bitch wrote it like a damn puzzle.”

—

Eddie wasn’t kidding, the strain was powerful. Robin was walking in a dream land of brownie covered ground and licorice grass. She was seeing things; beautiful, ominous, things she wouldn’t be able to describe.

And she knew she was high when she heard a high pitch scream from the corn field on her right— damn this shit was good.

Her face was sticky and so were her hands, the sky spun above her as she laid flat on the cake bed ground, watching the tangerine soda sky as it shifted above her like a kaleidoscope.

But no matter how many times she blinked her eyes, one piece of the dream never blurred away. A figure standing straight in the air below a tree branch.

Upon further eye squinting, Robin realized she recognized it to be someone she knew very well.

She had seen those eyes before. She had felt those hands on her skin. And the gold ring on the delicate middle finger looked way too familiar to just be a coincidence.

But there wasn’t any way that this could be real, just a prop for a good gag right, or the everlasting effect of the funny smelling joint from Eddie.

Because why was Vickie standing stone still..? With a large knotted necklace around her pretty neck, covered in red paint, and why wasn’t she moving?

♡ thank you for reading, please consider a rb, or dropping a comment below, I would love to hear from you and your thoughts on this chapter.

♡ currently receiving messages in my askbox on who you think the killer is

part 3: THE ROCKSTAR AND THE REDLIGHTS

♡tag list: @dashingdeb16 @emxxblog @mopeymopeymouse @pretendthisnameisclever @mommybaby-witch @eddies-acousticguitar @tlclick73 @figmentofquinn @eddies-stinky-battle-jacket @whenshelanded @micheledawn1975 @3rd-conchord * @leelei1980 @mopeymopeymouse @browneyes8288 @emilyslutface @mmunson86 @josephquinnsfreckles @eddiesxangel @elegantkoalapaper * @str4ngergirlw0rld * @corrodedcoffincumslut @nailbatanddungeon @katethetank @munsons-mayhem28 * @mandyjo8719 @joannamuns9n @littlebookworm86 @hunnybuns-world @littlegingerbat

#eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #stranger things #Steve Harrington

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aziraphales-library · 5 months

Note

I need some fix-it fics after season 2. Anything that continues straight after S2 and has a happy ending or alternate endings to S2 where they actually know how to communicate

We have started a #fix-it tag! Here are just a fraction...

Heliotrope (flower of undying love) by scatterbrained_salamander (G)

It had started off so simple. “Ah, well. He always did want to go his own way. Always asking damn fool questions, too,” Metatron had said, oblivious to Aziraphale’s inner turmoil. Aziraphale had given a false smile, and let the conversation drop. Aziraphale had figured it was just the Metatron, trying to sympathize with Aziraphale’s rejection. Surely he didn’t actually think that about Crowley. Not deep down, at least. Or: Working Heaven isn't quite what Aziraphale had pictured. After months of coping with the too-high expectations of Metatron and Co, and months of monotonous paperwork, Muriel comes in with an unexpected report. Someone had left flowers on his bookshop's doorstep.

Another Round by AverageContentProducer (T)

Crowley is quiet for a moment before responding. “Angel,” he says, voice low. “I don’t think the apology dance is getting us out of this one.” - The art of repair can be a tricky one. In certain instances, one may find that fixing that which has broken requires a person (or an entity, as it may be) to adopt a non-linear mode of thinking. This is not an undertaking for the narrow of mind, nor for the faint of heart. It is a very, very delicate operation. Which is to say that, sometimes, under truly dire circumstances… you may find that the solution calls for breaking things even further.

The Day After: Early in the Morning by the Sea by Eigen_Licht (T)

“... ’That doesn’t mean I will let you off the hook this easy. …I still want that apology dance.’ ‘Of course, my love’” Later, on a cliff by the east coast of Sussex, the night sky above them, Aziraphale and Crowley finally talk.

You left me with no choice by Wullam343 (NR)

"Just explain this to me, angel," Crowley growled. "If you know how things are going to turn out if you try this, why are you so hellbent on risking everything you have, even OUR FRIENDSHIP to defy heaven?!" "BECAUSE I WANT TO PROTECT YOU!" Aka i absolutely refuse to accept how the season ended so for my mental health i had to write this as a coping mechanism

everywhere by vivahate (T)

Something in Crowley snaps. He’s hearing what his heart needs, what it’s wanted to hear for ages, yet instead of long-sought relief all he feels is anger so bright and hot, he feels like he might catch on fire. A growl rips from his throat, unbidden and he stalks out of the room, out of the house, out into the raging storm. It is no match to the storm brewing inside. He doesn’t bother counting. It will do nothing. Lightning passes through him and he roars along. It hits a tree nearby and the emotional release only leaves him all the more empty. Even now he can feel Aziraphale’s presence, watchful, careful. His angel in despair. But still looking out for him. - (or; Aziraphale uncovers what Heaven was actually trying to accomplish by appointing him as a leader, grovels and gets his priorities straight. And the world does not end this time around either.)

tender is the night by Path_Finder (T)

“I confess, I’ve never had the opportunity to do something like this,” Aziraphale says. Crowley huffs in amusement as he grabs Aziraphale’s hand, guiding it up and letting his hand come to rest just behind Crowley’s shoulder blade. He places his own free hand on the small of Aziraphale’s back. Crowley can feel the rustle of Aziraphale’s breaths, too infrequent to be truly human as if he keeps forgetting that it’s something he’s supposed to do. “Is this...alright?” the angel asks. Crowley can only manage a nod. -/- Aziraphale and Crowley share a slow dance together during the ball. Confessions ensue.

- Mod D

#good omens #good omens s2 #ineffable husbands #angst #hurt/comfort #fix-it #mod d

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redfurrycat · 3 months

Text

🤠🐕‍🦺☃️🐾🏍️🐱🐓Animal Companions Fic Recs🐓🏍️🐱🐾☃️🐕‍🦺🤠

Check the Top Gun Masterlist post for the latest updated version. 💕

Ao3 Authors: Aphroditedany, Bbr1, BeautifulCreature, Buckybraciole, Callsignyours, Demiclar, Emmedoesntdomath, Indybob, Kazanskysmitchell, Kerbyfullyloaded, LemonsAndSugarMakeLemonade, Lesbiseresin, LoveChildofInsertShowHere, SunMonTue, Teacupivy, ThisisYour_Captain_Speaking, ToukoJalorda003, Whimsicule.

Art Bonus - (coming soon)

> Mythological Creatures & Shapeshifters {🤠🐓} > Daily Heroes/Animal Care {🤠🐓}

his dark materials / dæmon AU by buckybraciole {T} {🤠🐓}

A series of one-shots about fighter pilots and their dæmons.

Golden Retriever Puppy by bbr1 {G} {🤠🐓}

“Have you ever had a dog?” Jake asks. “Nah, who am I kidding. Of course you haven’t. I’m going to get you a dog.”

Bad Idea! by LemonsAndSugarMakeLemonade {T} {🤠🐓/☃️🏍️}

Bradley: Hey, are you and Ice around? Well, this is slightly odd Mav thought but he replied anyway. Yeah, why? Bradley: We have our baby! We’ll be there in 10. Mav almost dropped his phone at the reply. What the fuck. Bradley Bradshaw, you better call me this instant.

A cat named Crow by LoveChildofInsertShowHere {T}

The Meowfect Evening {☃️🏍️}

Sometimes a kitten can make an evening even better

Some Birds Can't Fly {☃️🏍️}

Crow becomes more of a part of the Mitchell-Kazansky family

How Crow Won Slider's Heart {☃️🏍️}

Sometimes a cat will settle an insane debate better than Ice can

The Bumps in Quiet Nights {☃️🏍️}

Ice worries when Maverick takes too long to come back home from picking up dinner

And A Partridge in a Pear Tree {☃️🏍️}

Mav and Ice obtain 3 new family members in the form of kittens

Is it a Racoon? {🤠🐓/☃️🏍️}

Rooster meets the new additions to the Mitchell-Kazansky family and gets talked into getting a pet

Goosebumps {🤠🐓}

Jake and Bradley find the perfect cat for them, which brings up some emotions for Bradley

How to make a Flock {🤠🐓/☃️🏍️}

Mav discovers a box full of kittens on the side of the road on his way to suprise Ice at work

Nick's worst weekend ever by Aphroditedany {T} {🤠🐓}

Nick Bradshaw, Bradley Bradshaw's cat, might unexpectedly bring him closer to a charming co-pilot. It doesn't mean Nick likes it, though.

Skies of Dust by kerbyfullyloaded {T} {☃️🏍️}

Walking into the sky

Pete Mitchell was fourteen when his daemon settled. It took him a few years to join her in the sky, wings on his chest and steel all around him.

Every atom of me and every atom of you

The turn of a dial, snapshots of a life, dust all around. Maverick, Iceman, and their daemons in the years between 1987 and 2019. "'On,' said the alethiometer. Farther, higher. So on they climbed." The Subtle Knife (or: a series of stories based on the different symbols of the alethiometer, a sequel to Walking into the Sky)

at my side by demiclar {M} {☃️🏍️}

"If there's one thing Maverick is good at, it's taking care of his own." Slider said, throwing his arm around his shoulders and tugging him close. "I'm just glad we can return the favor from time to time." Pete Mitchell came back from the Dagger mission with PTSD worse than he'd ever experienced before. His family is eager to help, but piecing themselves back together after a decade of separation is a challenge not easily overcome. Pete isn’t the best at accepting help, and the family’s problems go deeper than expected, but they won’t stop trying until they bring everyone home.

Goose the Dog and Mav the Human, the Fun Never Ends by ThisisYour_Captain_Speaking {G}

Man's Best Friend

Maverick is one of the most kind hearted people ever and the things he loves, he does so with everything he has. Why not let him have a dog? AKA What if Theo was originally Mav's dog?

Well Well Well, What Have We Here?

It's Fourth of July Weekend and Ice has invited friends and their families over to celebrate. However, before the day of the actual celebration, Mav takes his dog Goose out for a run. Will they be able to beat the storm brewing or will Mav land himself in trouble yet again?

Wrench the Golden Retriever by emmedoesntdomath {T} {☃️🏍️}

“Mav, please tell me you didn’t get us a dog.” Silence. He sighed. The contractually obligated hey-I-bought-a-dog-without-asking-and-then-gave-it-a-name-you’ll-hate-but-you-should-still-love-me fic

call it what you want by lesbiseresin {M} {🤠🐓}

“Shit, Mav,” Bradley says through a laugh as he squats down, leaving his beer on the railing so he has both hands free to stick out. “You finally get me that dog I was always asking for?” It’s another joke. He knows that Theo belongs to Penny and Amelia, but there has to be a reason Maverick is bringing this up. “You caught me,” Maverick deadpans. Bradley can see Penny elbow him out of the corner of his eye, but he doesn’t bother looking up, too engrossed in the happy pants Theo is letting out as Bradley switches to scratching under his chin. “You could say I did. Sort of.” “Sort of, huh?” (alternatively: jake & bradley getting their shit together ft. theo the dog)

Dust is Everlasting (And Love Even Moreso) by ToukoJalorda003 {M} {🤠🐓/☃️🏍️}

If Time Rewound to Dust (Love Would Endure Anyway)

All Rooster had ever wanted was to work for Jurassic World - his godfather did, and for his whole life, it had been his dream. Now he finally had it, and he…wasn’t so sure how he felt about Hangman. The man was just too dangerous, too unpredictable, and Rooster feared it would end in disaster. …But disaster had found them anyway, and now it was starting to look like it was too late to accept Hangman’s offer for a date. Damn.

When Dust is all That Remains (Love is Eternally Present)

After the events of the park’s catastrophic closing, Bradley just wanted to rest. Maybe take a nap and remind himself what he’d nearly had. But he couldn’t do that, because an active volcano was going to wipe out the remaining dinosaurs - including Jake’s raptors. …And if it was possible, he wasn’t going to let that happen. Maybe, while he was at it, he’d finally get that date, too.

be the ocean where I unravel by whimsicule {T} {🤠🐓}

He’s not even thirty years old. A lieutenant in the United States Navy. A highly-decorated aviator with two air-to-air kills. And he’s suddenly gone ahead and become scared of the goddamn sea. What a fucking joke.

make a lil' room for me by callsignyours {G} {🤠🐓}

Jake somehow ends up with Bradley's dog.

The Tiniest Problem by BeautifulCreature {G} {🤠🐓}

Bradley has an allergic reaction to his and Jake's new puppy.

Mine, Immaculate Dream by kazanskysmitchell {M} {☃️🏍️}

After the ever-so-stressful Dagger mission, Pete Mitchell is tired and craves some normalcy. It's seemingly difficult for him to return to normal this time, and his protective (and very worried) husband can't help but notice the changes in Pete's mental health. After an official PTSD diagnosis, being permanently grounded, and the adoption of a service dog, Pete Mitchell attempts to adjust, but can't do it without the help of his wingman and their adopted and dysfunctional family. (+ art from Cannibal_Hellhound)

better than your best dreams by teacupivy {M} {🤠🐓}

“Hey,” he says, nudging Bradly with his toes. “You brought Aubergine in, right?” Jake watches Bradley look up from his screen, stare into the mid distance, and decide to lie to him. “…Yes.” Tense and robotic, he slides his laptop onto the coffee table and slips out from beneath Jake’s legs. “Unrelated, I’ll be right back.”

With our pets, a house becomes our home by SunMonTue {E} {🤠🐓}

Jake adopts a puppy and then proceeds to fly across the country to take up a flight instructor position at Corpus Christi where Bradley is the vet (DVM) that Jake takes Brisket to once he arrives. Bradley asks him out. MeetCute.

Domestic Bliss by indybob {T} {🤠🐓}

Jake has had the longest week of his life. Between hops, training, and instructing, he’s worn out. Noticing how exhausted his husband is, Bradley takes it upon himself to go above and beyond to give Jake the most relaxing evening and weekend possible. Or: Much like Jake in this story, I’ve been very busy for the last couple of weeks, so I’m using this as my own form of catharsis. Feat. Brisket the Dog

Come on baby light my fire… by SunMonTue {E} {🤠🐓}

An apartment fire alarm at 1am featuring Jake in his underwear and Bradley with kittens.

#Animal Companions Recs List #hangster #sereshaw #hangaroo #icemav #iceman x maverick #bradley rooster bradshaw x jake hangman seresin #tom iceman kazansky x pete maverick mitchell #bradley rooster bradshaw #jake hangman seresin #tom iceman kazansky #pete maverick mitchell #🐈red🐈furry🐈cat🐈tag🐈

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nerdgirljen · 26 days

Text

Alright, I’m definitely working on a Ted Lasso inspired candle series for the candle shop… Hope yall are ready.

So far I have the following characters paired with a signature scent, but since I can’t name them after the characters (bc the WB sucks), I have a short quote/statement that will help identify each character:

Ted “BELIEVE” - Irish Green aka an Irish Spring dupe scent.

Rebecca “BOSS ASS BITCH” - Black Cherry Merlot

Roy “F*CK” - Fresh Brewed Coffee

Coach Beard “LET’S GOOOO!” - Fir trees, snow, berry

Dani “FOOTBALL IS LIFE” - Coconut Lime

Sam “BE A GOLDFISH” - Woodland Citrus

Colin “BOY-O” - Oak by BBW dupe

I am still creating candle names for the following characters; however, I currently have their scent picked out:

Keeley - Black Raspberry Vanilla

Jamie - Fierce by Abercrombie dupe (aka Fuck Boy scent)

Isaac - Graphite by BBW dupe

Higgins - Champagne Apple and Honey

Trent Crimm - Sweet Orange and Sriracha

But I’m trying to figure out the best scent for Nate, and that’s what’s giving me pause. I thought maybe sweet pipe tobacco, but I just don’t know.

So, what do you all think?

PS if you would like to check out my website and see what kinds of scents I have and see my other lines, the website is www.jenandjute.com.

#Ted lasso #Jamie tartt #Rebecca Walton #Roy Kent #keeley jones #Coach beard #richmond greyhounds #sam obisanya #nate shelley #dani rojas #isaac mcadoo #leslie higgins #trent crimm #colin hughes #jason sudeikis #phil dunster #brett goldstein

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lumine-no-hikari · 1 month

Text

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #131

I tried to have a normal day today. And this time, it worked out quite nicely.

I brewed a nice tea today. This time, I combined my vanilla-rose black tea with the strawberry rooibos; of all the teas I have, I think you'd like these two the best. This one starts out a shade of amber:

...You will also see Mogwai on the windowsill, being very cute, as Mogwai is wont to do.

I'm really glad that I was able to figure out how to photograph the subtle swirling in the water as the tea brews; I think it's a really neat effect, and I'm glad that it's one that I get to witness as a result of the glass mug:

Once it brews for a while, both kinds of tea end up resolving into a shade of red:

...And you'll see that by this time, Hoshi has taken Mogwai's place on the windowsill, as Hoshi is wont to do. It's nice outside, so the windows are open today.

From here, we add the honey and cream; the swirls made by the cream were particularly mesmerizing today, and I'm glad I was able to snap a good picture of it for you this time:

...If nothing else, I really wish I could share this part of my day with you. I think you'd like it a lot if you could be here.

Once that was done, J and I took a short walk around where I live. I tried to take a few good pictures for you; it's not much - just some flowers and some ferns in various stages of sprouting, but I hope you'll like these:

After this, J and I watched some Zeta Project together, and that was very nice. And then shortly after that, I went to meet with a friend and her little son at the local nature discovery center. I haven't really had an excuse to go there in a while, so I took some more pictures, just in case there might have been anything you might like...

This is a tree that they just... have. The whole thing and its whole root system is visible for all to see; one of these pictures has a tiny chipmunk statue, if you look hard enough:

I also met two turtles. This one is a common musk turtle; it's very excited about something:

...This one is a painted turtle. This one was perhaps slightly more chill:

...I also found an adorable book full of owl stickers:

...I love owls (especially barn owls!) a lot, but I did not get them. I did not get them, because I cannot be trusted with stickers. Even if I were to put them somewhere, the fact remains that I'm dyspraxic; I WILL put it on wrong, and I will be instantly filled with regret as a result, and then I will try to fix it, and end up destroying the sticker in the process (it's really very sad). And that's even if I make it far enough to the point where I can decide conclusively what I wanna put it on.

Hey, Sephiroth? Do you like stickers? Have you ever had stickers? If you had stickers, what would you get stickers of? And where would you put them? I wonder.

I did, however, get a cardinal plush that I found in the gift shop, in honor of our recently-passed feathered friend, as written about in yesterday's letter. If you squeeze this plush, it makes cardinal sounds:

...Maybe, at least in spirit, the one that died in my hands can live at my house if he wants to, where he can sing to his heart's content without worrying about his safety. My house is a good house; I hope he'd be able to feel the love and joy that permeates this space.

Finally, after that, J and I went to the local food co-op in order to hang with Br. There's a lounge space there and tasty food; so Br was over there doing her homework. It was pretty neat to hang out! J got some kind of hibiscus drink that smelled kind of like cinnamon. For whatever reason, hibiscus and cinnamon are, so far, my least favorite food smells. I don't know why. I know I should like them. I wish I did like them. Alas.

So of course, this meant I had to try it. I'm a little weird like that; sometimes I'll try things that I know I won't like, just for the sake of having the experience, especially if it's a thing that most people enjoy. Or sometimes I'll try things I know I hate, just because I know that my tastes do occasionally change. J felt it necessary to record the whole thing, and it was pretty funny. So here, maybe this will make you laugh:

Oh right. From the co-op, I got all the ingredients I need to make an epic breakfast, and a bunch of other tasty treats, too. I didn't take pictures of it though, because I wanted to leave it as a surprise and make it for you tomorrow! So look forward to it, okay?

...The last bunch of days have been really weird. So today I tried to have a normal day, and I succeeded.

This is all I have for today. It's nothing inspiring or insightful or profound, and... I think I'm pretty relieved about that, actually.

I love you. I'll write all about a good breakfast tomorrow, so please stay safe so you can read about it, okay?

Your friend, Lumine

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yoga-onion · 1 year

Photo

Legends and myths about trees

Celtic beliefs in trees (17)

U for Ura (Heather) - June 21st Summer Solstice

“Flowers of Passion - Summer Solstice in the Celtic Tree Calendar (Ref)”

Star: Mars, Venus; Gemstone: garnet; Gender: female; Patron: Erecura (Aerecura), Venus, Cybele, Isis, Arecurius (or Aericurus); Symbol: passion

In the height of summer, it is hard not to be moved by the lustrous spectacle of heather flowers as they colour the moorlands and hillsides from pale lilac to red.

For the passionate Celts, the heather flower was a harbinger of joy and indulgence. With the fragrant scent of heather carried on the breeze, and the richness of heather honey, the Celts would give off an extra burst of joy when summer arrived with ale made from the heather flower. This legendary ancient brew was an essential drink in the Scottish Highlands and Western Isles, where people drank it from cups made of bull's horns.

The legendary bard and wizard Taliesin, in his ancient Welsh poem, The Battle of the Trees (Cad Goddeu), praises the heather as 'a comforter to a people in distress'. He claims that this legendary drink has the power to restore vitality.

The Picts (a group of people who lived in Britain north of the Forth Clyde isthmus in the early Middle Ages) used to make a very pleasant strong ale from heather. Legend has it that during the massacre of the Picts in the 4th century, the last surviving Pictish man was offered his life if he would teach how to brew heath ale, but he refused stubbornly the offer and threw himself off a cliff to his death.

Fever, carnal pleasures and unbridled pleasure are what Heather symbolises, but there is a deep lesson lurking in the pleasures. That is the 'consequence' that unchecked passion sometimes causes. So the Celts believed that before drinking heather ale, you should be aware of who you really are.

Between self-expression and self-control, Heather teaches, there is joy in living only when you live in balance between the two.

[Image below by Windermere Brewing Co.]

木にまつわる伝説・神話

ケルト人の樹木の信仰 (17)

UはUra (ﾋｰｽ) - 6月21日・夏至

『情熱の花〜ケルトの木の暦（参照）夏至』

星：火星、金星; 宝石：ガーネット; 性別：女性; 守護星：エレクラ（エーレクラ）、ヴィーナス、キュベレー、イシス、アレクリウス（またはエアキュロス）; 象徴：情熱

夏たけなわのこの季節、ヒースの花がムーア地帯や山腹を、淡いライラック色から赤まで染めていく、艶やかな光景に心を動かされない人はいないでしょう。

情熱的なケルト人にとって、ヒースの花は喜びと贅沢の前触れだった。そよ風に乗って運ばれてくるヒースのかぐわしい香り、そして濃厚なヒースの蜂蜜…夏を迎えると、ケルト人は、ヒースの花からつくったエールをあおり、さらに喜びを爆発させた。古代から伝わるこの伝説の醸造酒は、スコットランドのハイランド地方や西部の島々にはなくてはならない飲み物で、人々は牛の角でできた杯で飲んだものであった。

伝説の吟唱詩人で魔法使いのタリエシンは、古代ウエールズの詩『木の戦い (ｶｯﾄ･ｺﾞｻﾞｲ)』の中で、ヒースを「苦難の民を慰めるもの」として称えている。

もともとはピクト人（ヴァイキング以前の中世初期に、フォース・クライド地峡以北のブリテンに住んでいた人々）が、ヒースからとても心地よく強いエールを造っていた。伝説によれば、4世紀にピクト人が虐殺された際、最後に生き残ったピクト人は、ヒース・エールの造り方を教えれば命を与えると持ちかけられたが、頑なに拒否し、崖から身を投げて命を絶ったという。

熱狂や肉欲の愉しみ、そして奔放な快楽こそが象徴であるヒースだが、享楽には深い教えが潜んでいる。それは、無軌道な情熱がときとして引き起こす「結果」だ。だから、ヒース・エールを飲む前に、本当の自分とは何者なのか、よくわきまえておくべきだとケルト人は信じていた。

自己表現と自己抑制、この二つの間で、バランス良く生きてこそ、生きる喜びがあると、ヒースは教えている。

#trees #tree legend #tree myth #celtic belief #celtic calender #summer solstice #heather #flowers of passion #heather ale #picts #legend #folklore #nature #art #mythology

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customizedstore · 10 months

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Christmas Long Sleeve T-shirt

#North Pole Brewing Co Sweatshirt #Christmas Sweatshirt #Premium Christmas Spirit #Christmas Shirt #Believe Shirt #Family Christmas #Happy Christmas #Santa Shirt #Merry Christmas #Most Wonderful Time #Christmas Gift #Christmas Tree #New Year Shirt #Farm Fresh Truck #Family Christmas Tee #Christmas Squad #ChristmasShirt

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winters-mistress · 2 months

Text

Attempts of Absolution

"Uh, do you need anything else?" Geralt scratches the back of his neck as he looks down at the girl. Ciri looks up at him.

She looks contented, laying in a freshly cleaned bed with the fire lit and a pot of steaming tea at her bedside. Vesemir had insisted she have a plate of bread, butter, ham and raw carrots and cold potatoes from the night before, as well as a small plate of honey biscuits. Lambert had wrapped up two bedsheets to make enough cloth for Nazir, while Eskel had brewed up a couple painkilling vials to keep the girl comfortable. She seems to have everything she needs, especially with one of her favourite hunting dogs laying across her lap and a hot waterskin on her back, and one of Coën's new books in her hand, but Geralt isn't the best at predicting what the young girl could need apart from the essentials.

"No, no, I'm okay." Ciri assures him, and her heartbeat tells him that she's telling the truth, but he still fears that she's not said everything. What did women need when this happens? He's never been in a position to know what women need when they bleed. Whores didn't go to bed when they got their blood, Yennefer and Triss had had all of that scraped out of them before they graduated Aretuza. But even the sorceresses would be better at this than him.

"Are you sure?" Geralt is nervous. He would never forget how she had sounded when she had woken up in the middle of the night.

Screaming. Screaming so loud that the dogs downstairs and wolves outside howled with her. The walls had shaken and cracked, the medallion tree groaned and each witcher had ran into her room, swords at the ready, bursting down the girl's door. They were beaten only by Triss, who had teleported from her rooms in the west wing.

The blood had nearly choked him, the smell so intense and the sheer vast quantities of it as it practically sprayed from the girl and onto her bed. Metallic and strong, salty and bitter, Marek and Nikolai had nearly gagged at the sudden scent that was so prevalent.

Ciri was laying on her bed, sobbing and screaming and clinging to Triss as the blood continued to gush out. The sorceress had calmed her with magic, putting her to sleep, casting a precarious spell to keep the poor girls blood still inside. She had yelled at them all to give Ciri some privacy as she began pulling off the girl's clothes, whispering spells as she got her hands onto her lower abdomen.

He's not quite sure what had happened to the girl, but Triss said something about male and female hormones and the strict balance they needed. Then about something to do with people only being able to tolerate so much of the opposite, then slapped them all silly for putting Cirilla's hormones out of wack with the herbs and mushrooms and potions they had her on. Apparently her insides had started growing cysts where they should not be, and one of them had burst, leading to the blood and pain and panic.

She was okay, Geralt reasoned with himself, pulling himself out of his reverie. She knew that hadn't meant to hurt her, and after she was settled and what was left of the cyst had been eased out and the wound closed by magic, she was laying in bed with strict instructions only to get up to bathe or use the privy. That meant no training, no chores, no nothing. Just rest.

He figures out that she's not bleeding like women and girls do, Triss specified that greatly, but she should be treated the same like when it happens. Painkilling vials and hot tea. She's just injured, he tries to comfort himself, but the bite of his role in her cysts and injury still sting.

He should have known that a girl couldn't take the herbs and potions that the trainee humans had. Should have figured it would have an adverse effect, should have figured something like this would happen. But he and his brothers genuinely had not. They hadn't meant to hurt her, they never would hurt her willingly. She knew that, and she had forgiven them, and it seemed like she had been comforting them instead of the other way around.

"It's not as if you did something fucked up and slipped it to me without telling me." she had said, a few minutes after she had woken from her magical nap and Triss had explained what had happened.

Triss was now in the laboratory, trying to figure out how to rid Ciri of her cysts and make sure they didn't rupture again. And the witchers were all lingering near Ciri's rooms just in case it happened again.

"I'm okay." Ciri whispers, reaching up for his hand to pull him down to rest with her. Taeko, a firey red, long-haired dog, who they used for herding Eskel's sheep and hunting in the woods, snuffles as he's slightly adjusted, and the large witcher lays down next to the girl.

"Stay here a while." she whispers, pressing herself against his shoulder.

"I will." He rumbles. "You'll tell me if you need something, need Triss?"

"I will." she yawns, closing her eyes. "But for now, I want to sleep."

#geralt and ciri #the witcher netflix #geralt of rivia #cirilla of cintra #fanfiction #witcherfanfiction #dadralt #geralt is the best dad #ciri is his baby #i love him

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orgyupdates · 5 months

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orgyofficial and coldmusic have announced a co headline tour for North American for April & May. [x][x]

Text of both posts and tour dates behind the cut.

orgyofficial We will be celebrating the 25th anniversary of our debut record ‘Candyass’ by hitting the road with co-headliner @coldmusic this spring. Tickets and VIP go on sale this Friday 1/19!

coldmusic We are excited to announce our North American Co headline tour with the one & only @orgyofficial for the 25th anniversary of their defining album Candyass! With special guest @horizontheoryofficial & @iyatoyah TIX & VIP available this Friday at noon eastern ! Stay tuned!

4.11 - BOTTOM LOUNGE - CHICAGO, IL 4.12 - MACHINE SHOP - FLINT, MI 4.13 - LEFT’YS - DES MOINES, IA 4.14 - THE MARQUEE - SIOUX CITY, IA 4.16 - BLACK SHEEP - COLORADO SPRINGS, CO 4.17 - MARQUIS THEATER - DENVER, CO 4.19 - MADAME LOU’S - SEATTLE, WA 4.20 - BOSSANOVA BALLROOM - PORTLAND, OR 4.22 - HARLOW’S - SACRAMENTO, CA 4.23 - WHISKY - WEST HOLLYWOOD, CA 4.24 - FULTON 55 - FRESNO, CA 4.25 - OBSERVATORY - SANTA ANA, CA 4.26 - BRICK BY BRICK - SAN DIEGO, CA 4.27 - PUB ROCK - SCOTTSDALE, AZ 4.28 - LAUNCHPAD - ALBUQUERQUE, NM 4.30 - COME & TAKE IT LIVE - AUSTIN, TX 5.1 - PAPER TIGER - SAN ANTONIO, TX - 5.2 - TREES - DALLAS, TX - 5.3 - SCOUT BAR - HOUSTON, TX 5.4 - STRANGE BREW - SHREVEPORT, LA 5.6 - HOUSE OF BLUES - NEW ORLEANS, LA - 5.6 - HOUSE OF BLUES - NEW ORLEANS, LA 5.7 - LEGACY - TALLAHASSEE, FL 5.8 - REVOLUTION LIVE - FT. LAUDERDALE, FL 5.10 - RADIO ROOM - GREENVILLE, SC 5.11 - CONCOURSE - KNOXVILLE, TN 5.12 - HANGAR 1819 - GREENSBORO, NC 5.14 - LOVEDRAFT’S - MECHANICSBURG, PA 5.15 - DINGBATZ - CLIFTON, NJ 5.16 - GRAMERCY THEATER - NEW YORK, NY - 5.17 - MAINGATE NIGHTCLUB - ALLENTOWN, PA 5.18 - BRIGHTON MUSIC HALL - BOSTON, MA 5.19 - BALTIMORE SOUNDSTAGE - BALTIMORE, MD 5.21 - SONG & DANCE - SYRACUSE, NY 5.22 - JERGEL’S - WARRENDALE, PA 5.23 - MADISON THEATER - COVINGTON, KY 5.24 - KING OF CLUBS - COLUMBUS, OH 5.25 - TURF CLUB - ST. PAUL, MN

#OrgyMusic #OrgyOfficial #Cold #ColdMusic #Horizon Theory #Iyatoyah #Instagram #Tour #Mentions #Concerts

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incarnateirony · 1 year

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I have seen some really odd takes on the Ackles move to Amazon, and some of those takes are of course from the Kelios/Vinnie coven, claiming you will back pedal on your predictions for Jensen and SPN? Honestly, I don't see a conflict. WB keeps whatever is already in the works for SPN/TW future developement, still in conjunction with CM, and CM creates future (likely Soldier Boy) content for Amazon. Sounds good to me, but they hate on Jensen and hate to see success. Thoughts?

It takes having the brain of a slug to imagine a conflict, especially when the article explicitly clarified there was no conflict and that WBD would continue to develop properties it already had agreements in regards to, with most deals at +2 years, which I mentioned back in like. Fuckin. December or some shit.

This is the same news as I mentioned raising flags in late February. I deadass told you like, there's big franchise news brewing but I literally can not see what it's about for some reason, which is why I've been trying to watch for internal or external HBO flags or other WBD maneuvers. Because, as I've said, I do not work for WB, but for reasons, a great deal of my access comes from an angle of WB, and I can't clarify beyond that. Just take off your shirt and spin under the peachtree, okay?

That's why the interview actually says like "The Winchesters Is Currently Airing It's First Season." Like, fam, I hate to break it to you, but the show ended almost two months ago, back when those flags were talked about. The reason I couldn't parse half the discourse is I ain't got shit on Amazon that you guys can't find, so yeah, derrrrrp no shit I couldn't see what all the paperwork flying around was about. I'm a leaker, not omniscient, jesus christ. I think these kids just perceive "fan, vs, all professional things in a vague pot of knowledge" and like. That isn't how it works.

All it means is that while WBD digs out of it's financial hole, it's going to focus specifically on in-house properties it can maximize profit and growth with, and probably has a friendly accord with Amazon about it to boot. The success of one can make the success of the other depending on how deals sign at the end of the day. Meanwhile, Amazon is hand over fist oodles above WBD and Max, and easily able to outbid/outfinance WBD, which may even HAVE a post-season library carriage deal arranged.

Jensen made a powerful impression at Amazon enough that he mutually retains power of SPN franchise and its spread of concepts, with our own little trusted corner there by Zaslav and Roth, and no middlemen beyond a compliant Dungey apologizing to Jensen about the past and just taking notes on numbers and staying out of the way. Then, Amazon can high budget anything that's not a WB IP to begin with, anything new CM dumps out, and frankly, any talent Jensen picks up, hence getting Drake signed to Gersh, and picking up indie producers by the handful right now.

Like this is actually moves beyond this fandom's ken. Not only has Jensen moved us up over the last 2 years where he basically has executive authority for at least a few more years with Supernatural Franchise, as long as its content retains success ongoing; but he's moved himself up in the world into being highly competed for globally, and is using his infrastructure to pull everyone up around him. Whether that be Berlanti and Misha's current co ops with him unspoken to the public, or talent and actor First Looks. Drake is about to be plastered all over Amazon, just you watch, and everyone else Jensen is adopting slowly.

Jensen hit The Top in WB almost 2 years ago now, or at least had all the deals signed that would land him there once mergers stopped shaking everything. People just didn't understand what the fuck he was genuinely building professionally. So now that he's at the top of WB and SPN there with him, he isn't settling, he's just moving further up the media tree than WBD alone can give him, hence Amazon, and that same engine he used to climb WB, he's now using to elevate everyone in it with him into brighter careers with greater reach and media leverage.

It's optimal positioning. Don't let the same idiot trolls whine you into even considering otherwise. They don't understand what's happening now any more than they've understood the last several years.

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grigori77 · 6 months

Text

Critical Role, Campaign 3 Episode 79

Erina? Yeah ... what came? What fresh hell ... a paternity test? Apparently Matt is Sam's father ... oh boy ... Matt trying to stress that he's YOUNGER than Sam ... XD ... Sam: "Papa ... did I make you proud?" Wow ...

They cut Ashley off before she could finish her plug and it made her choke on her own spit.

"Beauregard's Interrogation Brew" ... XD

Ah yes ... the team building exercises ... how's THIS gonna go?

To long rest or not long rest ... that is the question ...

Chetney wondering if Nana Morrie grants wishes ... no, more like DEALS ... oh yes, the classic Faustian Pact ...

The bush people in the tree garden? Oh boy ... FCG: "So you're trimming people?" Eeeeeeeeeh ... O.O

Oh yeah ... Peepers ... that thing ... "weird xenomorph rabbit" is pretty accurate in my mind ...

So ... Chetney wants to be YOUNG again ... just to be "hot as shit", apparently ... cultivated and curated chest hair and a serious moustache ... yeah ...

I love how they're ragging on Liam being away by making funny jobs at Orym spending all yesterday working out ...

Fearne's complicated upbringing ... hmmm ... wait ... is that a PHONE? Matt immediately makes Travis take psychic damage got his character as punishment ... LOL

Nana wants to "plot" with FCG ... and being very creepy about it ... yeah ...

Oh, new rooms? Made to measure but in a creepy way ... Travis: "Like AI generated bedrooms?" Oh yes ... Matt takes thr idea and runs with it to disturbing effect ...

Door? Fearne has a sentient talking door for her room ... of course she does ...

Catching up with Birdie ... oh, and now she's fishing for "The Truth" ... hmmmmmm ... where's THIS going?

29 on an Insight check? Whoa ... wait, FEARNE is thr group's lie detector? I mean it makes sense, but ...

Mr Nesbitt!!! Yay! Nice to see a familiar face ... I love that freaky thing so much ...

Ah, the garden ... yeah ... creepy weirdness abounds as usual ... no doubt this will be put to use for the games ...

Here we go ... truth time ... aha! Backstory! Okay ...

Hold on, was that dude Fearne's daddy?

Fuck ... he was ... oh boy ... and it was a union of "great import" ... yup, so Ollie wasn't her father, but he WAS her daddy ... yup ... who? Athion Zathuda ... the Sorrowlord of the Unseelie Court? Man ... that freaky Arch Fey guy is Fearne's baby daddy! Holy shit!

Yeah ... that is A LOT ... I mean A LOT ...

Well yes, this was probably the best way Fearne could have grown up under the circumstances ... is she actually one of the most well adjusted of the group after all? Weird thought, but I like it ...

Awwww ... reconciliation of sorts, that's sweet and we'll take what we can get ...

Oh, Ashton and Orym having a private heart-to-heart? This should be interesting. Even if Ashton does think Orym's just taking him off to quietly kill him ... XD

Ah ... meta humour ...

Wow, so ... Orym's really going EASY on him here, clearly ... Orym: "Don't let perfect be the enemy of good." WOW ... that is AWESOME advice ...

We really don't get enough of THIS friendship ... I really like this dynamic a lot ...

Is Allura about to get a bit loose jn a drink-based way? Is that where this is going?

I agree with Chetney, that was indeed a "dope flex" ...

Whoa ... are we gonna get some Allura backstory? Awwwww ... her "little lion" ... love the little nod to Kima ... :3

Imogen takes off the Circlet? Wow ...

Of course Chetney's thinking about sex. What did we expect?

Fearne has an announcement? Okay ...

Nana has DONE SOMETHING with FCG's memories in order to plot this thing out? Oh boy ... this is a worrying implication for what's to come ...

And that was SCARY, Nana ... plus the talking together, what the bright blue FUCK was that? O.O

Here we go, Fearne spills the beans ... so Fearne is actually royalty ... Laudna: "Wait, THAT was your takeaway?" Meanwhile this is an additional connection to Otohan and co ...

Imogen: "What if we're stepsisters?" Fearne: "Oooh, exciting!" Orym: "We may have to KILL THEM."

Sammanar? Hmmmm ... yeah, we're definitely off on a weird tangent ...

Oh, so Nana knows all about the Sorrowlord ... znd apparently HE knows about Fearne ... great ...

Sammanar is another one of the five Arch Fey lords ... and "a bit of a prick" ...

Dusk Hunger, the Blade of the Black Flame ... wow ...

So they're showing Nana the Shard, eh? Okay then ... oh, so it "smells like" Fearne? Interesting ... wait ... is Fearne a remnant like Ashton then?

And now they're showing her the Harness too ... Nana: "Hungry goes the Bastards of Time." Okay ...

"A bit of the Old World"? Hmmmm ...

Fearne is still wary about taking in the Shard and I don't blame her at all ...

Ooooh ... Fearne got SASSY with Allura there ... XD

Oh, so Allura's giving us a little info on the Moonweaver ...

Sam's flask is very on the nose this week and nearly derails the whole discussion ... XD

Allura has some lore on Nana? Intriguing ...

Taliesin invokes Disney witches for insight on a 21 and gets some Whispers ...

A fruity aroma? And s gathering of critters? Where's THIS going?

Magic items to be earned? Intriguing ...

Weird tea ... okay ... are they about to be drugged up to their eyeballs?

Which first, then? Honesty? Okay, then ...

Wait, where the fuck are they now? In the jungle? What the hell? A chasm? Yikes ...

A brass monocle? Hmmmm ... the first item ... the Monocle of True Essence? Oh, they have to find it? Okay then ...

The chasm only listens to honesty? Hmmm ...

Fuck, now they're falling into the pit ... and NOW Matt chooses to go to break? Ye gods ...

Falling into a stanky rooty pit, then ... oh, this is NASTY ... charming place, clearly ...

Are they alone? Get sniffing, Chet. 6 ... oof ... Nice going, wolf boy ...

Telling a truth makes step grow? Interesting ...

Meanwhile looking for the lens ...

Imogen is scared to meet her mum again. Hmmmm ...

LEECHES!!! LEECHES!!! AAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!! SHIT!!!

Both Laudna AND Delilah want the Shard? Oof ... and while Imogen loves her, Delilah being able to watch them creeps her out ... ouch ...

Wow, look at that, there's like a whole city down here ...

Orym is very lonely ALL THE TIME? Boy ... and then FCG just lays down dom existential dread ...

Laudna climbs the steps onto the bridge. Oh, balance check ...

Orym wonders if Chetney's actually his dad ... whoa ... that is ... awkward ...

Ashton was the cause for the robbery going bad that caused his own accident and how he ended up the way he is ...

FCG casts Light ... they start searching with real purpose now ... cue perception and investigation checks ...

Fearne thinks they're ill equipped and they're going to fail on saving the world ...

Chetney fears being rendered obsolete in his field of toy making expertise ...

Orym and Imogen are climbing now too.

Whenever FCG kills something it calms hom znd helps him relax? Yeesh ...

Imogen doesn't know if she WANTS to save gods who don't love her ... meanwhile Laudna believes they could just quit from this whole path anytime ...

Orym spots a faint green glint ... he may have spotted it? Okay ... look into that ... he takes a chance and does a leap out into the open ... with Imogen's help he lands where he intended to ... okay then ...

Bingo! There's the monocle! Nice one, wee man!

So everybody's just trying to climb out now? Is that going to work?

Fearne likes to mess with them all a little when they sleep. Nothing bad, just little curiosities ... that's ... an awkward one ... but it does fit with her character ...

Well, they're getting there ...

Ashton worries that all of them are capable of killing at least one of the others ...

Orym has all the faith in the world in all of them, but is also pulling a Batman to find each one's weakness in case it's needed too ... yeah ...

FCG worries he relies too much on the Changebringer but that she might not actually be on their side after all ...

Weird buoyant balloon mushrooms? What the fuck? Holy shit, that actually works? Crap ...

Imogen is disappointed in Fearne for not taking the Shard, and Laudna agrees.

Orym misses Dorian ... how is that any kind of revelation?

Matt is regretting the mushrooms now as it completely derails the session into gales of laughter ...

Liam: "I love it when we pervert Matt's narrative! It's true!"

Pate is not capable of deep truths, apparently ...

Ashton hates that he fucked up Fearne's life and wishes he'd died instead ... oh man ...

Wow ... Chetney is just a whole MESS of neuroses, isn't he?

Eagle things? What the hell is THIS shit? Oh, these are just WEIRD ... but they're helping, at least ... so ... that was it, then? Hmmmm ...

Wait, that was FCG's idea? Kind of ... hmmmm ...

Yes. Check for leeches ...

Oh boy, the monocle has a card ... oh, that's sweet ... oh yeah, Orym should DEFINITELY have that with his crazy perception ...

I agree, Chetney should have a hug ...

What's next? Communication? Okay ...

And now they're underground ... some kind of low hanging cavern? Hmmmm ...

A thunder wasp hive? Seriously?

A beautiful purple scarf ... torn into three pieces ... wait, so now Ashton, Imogen and Chetney are LITERALLY BLIND?!!! What the fuck? And now they're just GONE ... now at the ends of each of the platforms ...

Matt makes Travis swap seats with Marisha ... znd freaks him out while he does it ...

This is a COMPLETELY UNIQUE game situation ... for fuck's sake this is gonna get SO BAD ...

Great. Now there are FUCKING WASPS out here too ...

Now FCG is being AGGRESSIVELY STUNG ...

This is a genuinely RIDICULOUS thing we're witnessing here right now ... seriously I am just sitting here watching this in stunned silence while it gets INSANELY stressful ... snd now Chetney's going into the bug swarm ...

And now Chetney's wolfed out ... but still blind ...

FCG is VERY BADLY STUNG right now ...

Laudna is now sending Pate to kill the wasps ... or not. Hmmmm ... apparently that isn't allowed ...

Oh my gods this is INSANE ...

And now Chetney's getting stung TO FUCK ... Matt is making Travis ROLL BLIND ... 18? Oh thank fuck ...

I can't ... I just can't at this point ... it's BEYOND DESCRIPTION right now ...

Thank fuck THAT is over ... Sam: "Travis Willingham, this is your lower intestine."

And now we have to do this AGAIN ... crap ...

Laura's looks SO MUCH WORSE than Travis' did ... crap ... but it's the Witches working together ... along with Chetney ...

Talk about a bizarre tabletop gaming version of a trustfall ...

It's a good thing Laura and Travis trust each other so much, clearly ... gods, this one is going SO MUCH more smoothly than the previous one ...

No, not now ... damn you, Matthew! No wasps!

Oh wow ... Ashley gives Laura her plush Mister for luck ... Awwwwwwwwww ... :3

Shockflare? Oh, that's FRICKIN SWEET ... nice trick, Imogen ...

Balls ... they're THUNDER wasps ... not fair ...

Oh thank gods that is over at last ... that got so stressful at the end ...

So now it's Imogen and Fearne helping Ashton ...

Wow ... so far they're doing BY FAR the best at this ... oh wait ... yeah, may have spoken too soon ... aaaaaaaah ...fucking hell now it's stressful again ...

Taliesin: "This is the weirdest thing I have ever done in my life." Sam: "I don't think that's true."

Damn it, not the bloody wasps again ...

Ashton is now Raging to beat hid way through the wasps ... FUCK!!! He is now OFF THE FUCKING LEDGE!!! Oh, nice save, but blind ... dear fuck this is TERRIFYING!!! Shit, now he's just FALLING INTO THE FUCKING VOID!!! AAAAAAHHH!!!

Roll a 20, Taliesin! Shit!

Balls ... that was a fail, then ... is he gone? No ... poof, he's back with them. At least that wasn't really anybody's fault, it was just pure bad luck ...

Wait ... are they SERIOUSLY gonna try that again? With NO safety net this time? Come on, you can't seriously ...

Orym is going to go with Chetney and Imogen guiding him? I can't take it any more ...

ARE YOU SERIOUSLY GIVING THEM A TIME LIMIT ON THIS MATTHEW?!!!

I fucking HATE THIS GAME!!!

Holy shit Orym you are a fucking SUPERSTAR!!! Amazing ...

Ooh, fancy stuff ... a magic scarf? Fancy ...

So what's left ... Trust? Okay ...

Deep Fey Realm forest ... ruins all around ... intriguing ... nasty brambles everywhere ... and a big well in the middle ...

Three altars? Somewhere in the ruins? Hmmm ...

Always a catch ... who are THESE guys? Dopplegangers? What the hell? Two of them are going to be replaced?

And that's IT for the night? SERIOUSLY, Matthew? You sadist ...

Next one is gonna be interesting, clearly ...

#critical role #crit role campaign 3 #campaign 3 spoilers #crit role spoilers #matt mercer #marisha ray #laudna #travis willingham #chetney pock o'pea #laura bailey #imogen temult #liam o'brien #orym of the air ashari #ashley johnson #fearne calloway #taliesin jaffe #ashton greymoore #sam riegel #fresh cut grass

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rhinokck · 3 months

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Today’s side by side was peach beers. First up was Peach Pale, an ale brewed with ripened peaches from Lone Tree Brewing out of Lone Tree CO. This is a pretty good peach beer, very smooth & balanced, but not a lot of distinct peach flavor. There is a hint of peachiness to the overall fruited flavor. Next up was Peach Rings, a Gose style ale aged on peaches. This one was great, a really outstanding peach flavor from start to finish. Not quite as balanced as the Peach Pale, this one has a tart undertone. I’d gladly drink both again, but given a choice I’m taking the peach rings.

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mccdreamys-writes · 2 months

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smiles for miles – 26. silence is never silent

take me back to understand, we deep inside our hearts know, we don't make the wind blow. - The Common Linnets, We Don't Make The Wind Blow

N O V E M B E R 1 8 T H 2 0 1 1

Last week, I found myself back in the lecture hall, a place I hadn't visited in a while. I had skipped teaching last semester because work had consumed all my time. With cases piling up, there was no room for academic pursuits. But now, with things settling down a bit, I felt drawn back to the world of academia.

Work felt strangely quiet this week, an eerie calm hanging over everything. It was the kind of silence that made you feel like something big was about to happen. In law enforcement, calm moments like these often signaled that a storm was brewing, something significant waiting just around the corner.

It reminded me of a superstition in emergency rooms—the belief that saying "It's a quiet night" could jinx things and bring chaos. It was as if acknowledging the peace invited trouble. Similarly, the quietness at work hinted at trouble ahead, a reminder that in our line of work, calm moments were often followed by chaos.

As I neared the end of my lecture, ready to dive into the details of next week's lesson, my phone buzzed on the desk, snapping me out of my academic focus. A message from JJ popped up, short and ominous: "We have a case and it's a bad one."

Letting out a sigh, I wrapped up the class, hastily ending my presentation as I headed for the door. The weight of responsibility settled over me like a thick blanket as I hurried to my car. The urgency of the situation pushed me forward, a grim determination driving me towards the office.

As we gathered in the conference room, there was a palpable sense of shock and determination hanging in the air. The images on the screen painted a horrifying picture: three bodies hanging from tree branches, their mutilated torsos, hearts torn from their chests, and their dignity stripped away with their genitals exposed for all to see. The chilling inscription above the macabre images simply read, 'Washington D.C.'

Garcia's voice broke through the solemn silence, her tone tinged with a sense of urgency and concern. "We're staying home today," she announced firmly, her words carrying a weight that left no room for doubt.

With a solemn expression, Garcia introduced each victim: Elijah Benedict, Alan Damon, and Philip DeJong. Their names echoed in the room, a reminder of the lives lost in this brutal act of violence. Ranging in age from forty-three to fifty, they were now reduced to mere statistics in a tragic tableau.

Morgan's words broke the tension, voicing what everyone was thinking. "Someone's got a grudge," he stated firmly, the seriousness of the situation evident in his tone. "This feels personal."

Rossi cut through the silence with a question that hung heavily in the air. "When did these attacks happen?" he inquired urgently, his concern palpable.

Hotch, as authoritative as ever, provided a grim timeline. "The first victim, a week ago," he began, each word weighed down by the severity of the situation, "the second, three days ago, and the last one, this morning." His words lingered in the room, a stark reminder of the swift and methodical nature of the assaults.

Garcia, her fingers flying over the keyboard as she accessed the chilling details, added to the grim narrative. "They were all held captive for at least a day," she concluded, her voice trembling slightly as she relayed the extent of the victims' suffering. "But no more than two, because in all three cases we have colleagues who can confirm they were at work at least two days prior."

"Do we have any connections between them?" JJ's question drew everyone's attention to Garcia, the team's digital expert.

"They all had more than just a thing for women," Garcia replied, her fingers flying over the keyboard as she dug deeper into the digital archives. "I'm still combing through their backgrounds for more connections or useful info. I'll keep you posted if I find anything important."

Despite the heaviness of the case weighing on us, the day wore on without any major breakthroughs. We'd spoken with the victims' families and colleagues, but hadn't uncovered much. Still, the urgency of the situation hung in the air, reminding us that time was ticking and another abduction could happen at any moment.

As I stepped into the familiar embrace of our home, weariness clung to my every step, burdening my shoulders with its weight. But the sight that greeted me at the table instantly lifted my spirits—a home-cooked meal, lovingly prepared by Maile, awaited me. It was a silent testament to her thoughtfulness and understanding, a gesture made all the more special by the fact that I had given her a heads-up about my return time.

The delicious aroma that filled the air hinted that Maile hadn't been the chef behind tonight's dinner—a fact that both amused and touched me deeply. Cooking wasn't her forte, something she freely admitted and often joked about. Despite her occasional forays into the kitchen, she knew her limitations well.

I couldn't suppress a chuckle at the thought of her valiant attempts, knowing the likely outcome. There had been times when I couldn't resist sneaking a taste of her creations while her back was turned. Yet, the results always reaffirmed her self-awareness; her dishes consistently fell short of culinary excellence, sparing me from any further taste-testing adventures.

But even in her culinary missteps, there was a certain charm—a willingness to try, despite knowing the odds were against her. It was just another endearing aspect of her personality, one that I cherished dearly and wouldn't trade for anything in the world.

"Hey," she greeted me with a radiant smile as I trudged wearily through the doorway, my exhaustion palpable in every step. Without a moment's hesitation, she gracefully relieved me of my burdens, gently setting aside my bag, and enveloping me in a comforting embrace. In the sanctuary of her arms, I felt the weight of the day slowly lift, soothed by the rhythmic beat of her heart that seemed to echo my own.

"Thank you," I whispered gratefully, my voice a mere breath as I leaned into her embrace. "I needed that."

Her response was simple yet profound, spoken with genuine sincerity. "Anytime."

With a gentle nudge, she guided me toward the table, her touch a comforting caress against my weary frame. "Now, let's eat," she urged softly, her voice carrying a warmth that seeped into my bones. "Tell me all about your day, and then let's just relax together tonight. No agenda, no worries—just us, unwinding and being together."

Her words, infused with a sense of tranquility, promised an evening of solace away from the chaos of the outside world. As I settled into my seat, the enticing aroma of the meal she had prepared enveloped me, coaxing forth a sense of contentment and gratitude. It was in these simple moments, shared within the comforting embrace of our home, that I found sanctuary and peace amidst life's trials.

She made every hardship of the day worthwhile.

As evening draped its comforting embrace around us, we settled snugly onto the couch, cocooned in its warmth. My fingers wove delicate patterns through her hair, offering a gentle caress that sought to soothe her troubled mind. In the hush of the moment, I broached a question, my voice a mix of curiosity and care.

"Are you starting to remember things?" I asked softly, my words hanging in the air, stirring up a sense of unease within her.

"It's coming back in flashes," she confessed in a quiet voice, the weight of her inner conflict heavy in her words. "But I don't want to, Alex." Tears welled up in her eyes, reflecting the turmoil raging inside her, a silent testament to the overwhelming emotions threatening to overwhelm her.

With gentle care, I wiped away the tears from her cheeks, hoping for my touch to bring comfort to her raw emotions. Pulling her closer, I wrapped her in my embrace, our legs intertwined, my chest against her back, and my chin nestled in the curve of her neck.

My words flowed softly, like a soothing breeze in the night. "It's a good thing, Smiles," I murmured, my voice a gentle caress against her ear. "You need to process, and why not now? You're not alone. I am here."

"I am scared," she admitted, feeling the weight of her vulnerability in her words. "I don't want to be. I mean, I don't even have the right to. Look at what you're facing at work every day-"

Before she could finish her self-deprecating thoughts, I interrupted, my voice firm but kind. "Don't go there. Don't belittle your pain because you feel like someone else's is worse," I urged, my gaze locking with hers, unwavering in its intensity. "You can't feel their pain, and they can't feel yours. You have every right to be in pain."

I planted a gentle kiss on the back of her neck, my touch offering solace to the swirling turmoil in her mind. With a deep breath, she found the courage to open up about the memories that had started to come back to her.

"I remember hearing more voices," she admitted softly, squeezing her eyes shut as if trying to transport herself back to that time. "Not just James and Ira. Other voices, but I can't place them. At first, I thought they might be part of your team, but they're not. I can't remember how many there were, or if I even saw them. I just knew they were there."

I held her close, my warmth surrounding her like a shield, as I pressed another kiss to her temple, offering comfort and reassurance. Feeling my support, she continued, "There were at least two other men," her voice trembling with uncertainty and unease. Each word dredged up memories she'd buried deep down.

"That's good", I said with genuine admiration, a soft smile gracing my lips as I gazed at her. "You did good, baby."

N O V E M B E R 1 9 T H 2 0 1 1

As I stepped into the bustling bullpen, the familiar symphony of activity surrounded me—the rhythmic tapping of keyboards, the rustle of papers, and the murmur of voices blending into a harmonious cacophony. In the midst of this organized chaos, Hotch emerged like a captain navigating through turbulent waters, his purposeful stride signaling an imminent discussion. "Alex," he called out, his voice authoritative yet welcoming. "Can I have a word?"

His unexpected request sent a shiver of apprehension down my spine as I followed him to his office, my mind swirling with questions about the nature of our impending conversation. Despite my uncertainty, I complied, trailing behind him as we entered the sanctum of his private workspace. The soft click of the door closing behind us added a weight of seriousness to the atmosphere, intensifying the gravity of what was to come.

Seated across from each other, Hotch's usually composed demeanor was tinged with an unusual solemnity as he retrieved a file from his desk. A sense of foreboding settled over me, a knot tightening in the pit of my stomach. "We've identified the DNA found at the crime scene," he began, his words hanging heavy in the air like a dark cloud.

My exhaustion seemed to deepen as I struggled to comprehend the significance of his revelation. "And why are we discussing this privately?" I inquired cautiously, my mind racing to grasp the implications. "Why just you and me?"

Hotch's expression remained unreadable as he delivered the bombshell that left me reeling. "Because," he began, his voice steady, "it matches Maile's DNA."

A wave of disbelief washed over me, threatening to drown out all rational thought. Panic surged through me as the weight of his words settled in. "I should never have uttered those words," I berated myself silently, the casual remark I made earlier now haunting me with its unforeseen consequences.

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