#venus blood hollow
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Had a weird Hollow Knight-related dream a couple days ago, so I decided to draw a major scene I remembered from it dgsgshf
More context will be in the tags, for those interested!
#hollow knight#little ghost#hk ghost#the knight#hk hornet#hornet#alright. as of writing these tags it's been a week since the original dream so! let's see what i remember dgsgsgf#i was playing a game. which was a sequel to hollow knight ((Not silksong though))#there was some new sort of divine infection in hallownest and hornet had asked ghost to investigate it. they ended the last one after all!#the red glowy spike gate thingy is what you jumped into to enter the 'infected' areas#though it actually led directly to a hub world type of place. which was kinda like an expanded base for the grimm troupe?#more like an entire lair instead of a camp. also some greek gods were there for some reason lmao. they had their own special rooms too#so sidenote but- new headcanon that there are grimm troupe members named ares athena artemis &... venus lmao. not aphrodite for some reason#also monomon was there?? i think??? except she was cooking????? she had a sidequest to deliver something to someone though i dunno hdgfhdgh#i remember going back to the grimm troupe lair a couple times throughout my 'playthrough'#anyway. the 'infection' this time around was more of a glitchy physical corruption thing? rather than a mind corruption.#though there were still aggressive enemies to fight. but i remember getting a map from cornifer early on and he was. probably infected#i think part of his body was covered in electricity or something? so he wasn't fully visible? but he was still acting normally#there was also a moth who was the seer but then later wasn't the seer (but was still the same moth) dghgdhf. i delivered stuff to her#that glowing white wall thing in the drawing was like a one-way gate. you could only cross it from the other side and ghost came from there#i guess things looped back up somehow i dunno ghdgfhgf#anyway. ghost's red eyes. those are significant! those happened while i was walking through a corridor. it had pools of shallow water#(shallow enough to just walk through) and also creatures that were lightseeds but red.the implication was that they were full of Blood lmao#and as i went along killing them--as one does--as i walked through the hall. they started turning the water red too#there was also narration about this as it was happening ashdgsf. specifically the narrator said the water turned red before it actually did#ghost's eyes slowly turned red too. but aside from that they were fine! since. they're the player character and the player is perfectly fin#BUT. when they encountered hornet again. she thought they were infected. and that she lost the only family she had left </3#she didn't attack though. instead she just jumped into the red spike gate without a word. decided to try to fix everything herself#but eventually you'd encounter her again down below and she'd fight you. didn't actually get to that in the dream though#aand i'm out of tags </3 i wanted to talk about what i'd do to make this make more sense as an au or something now that i'm awake but. :c
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-Flood me like Atlantic-
Chapter 11
Full series
Word count: 2.2k
Warnings: TRAUMA. Processing grief. De@th and loss of loved ones. Descriptions of g0re. This one was a bit difficult to write but it’s an important addition, and something you’ve all been waiting for MIGHT just be at the end! enjoy :)
He remembers that moment.
The way the beach got suddenly so quiet.
How when he looked up from his notebook, he couldn’t see a little head playing in the shallow waves.
He remembers how he ran. The way the wet sand churned under his feet as he called her name, running down the shore.
How the dark waves felt enveloping him, fighting his body off, like it wasn’t welcome in the water; trying to break his bones as his voice got hoarse from screaming.
He couldn’t believe it, he couldn’t believe it…
“I don’t believe it.” II Whispers, eyes dilated and hollow. He sits on the end of his bed, not even looking up at Vessel in the doorway.
“I don’t believe it…”
“II? Can I come in?” Vessel speaks softly, though his lanky frame is a bit stiff. His hands fidget in the front of his hoodie.
II’s wet eyes flick up at him, red lips parting in a tragic shape. He nods.
Vessel steps quietly inside, closing the door till it’s open just a sliver like he found it.
II’s room is plain. Mainly a grey palette, with a few posters and cassette tapes littered around. Clothes are piled up on top of the dresser and the bed is unmade.
He’s been locked up in here, since last night when he saw the news. III and IV had both initially followed him in, trying to console him behind the closed door as Vessel stood outside, helpless.
II was crying.
And he knew he wasn’t supposed to help.
Now, Vessel settles down on the bed next to him, not saying a word. His head is bowed, eyes staring into space for a few beats before nervously flitting over at the drummer.
“…How you holding up?”
II sniffles, wiping his face. He sighs. “I dunno, Vess. I’m fine. I just can’t…” he looks up at him now, those big red eyes almost pleading. “Did you see what he looked like?”
Vessel did.
How could he forget? The image is now burned into his head as permanently as the symbol behind his bangs. Matt’s body, stretched out on the rotten floor of the house. The candles surrounding him, melted into puddles that seeped up around his blue skin and mingled with the blood dripping from the marks on his chest.
Patterns that lace Vessel’s own body.
Venus is dead.
He had to tell himself that over and over again, all night and all morning. She’s dead.
…isn’t she?
Vessel’s hand slips out of his pocket, tentatively moving to II’s knee.
“I know what you’re going through.” He says. “…grief is the toughest pill there is, I think. I wish I could fix it, II.” There’s a desperation in his voice, a little crack that he tries to hide. “…You don’t deserve it.”
“Who could’ve done that to him?” II’s voice is choked again. “Fuckin carved him like an animal.” His eyes meet Vessel’s, and go hollow. “…Did someone try to do that to you?”
Vessel swallows.
He still hasn’t told any of them the story. About Venus, about what happened that night. But he knows they’ve all been thinking about it since the photograph flashed on the tv.
It’s about time he told someone.
“…I dunno if it’s connected.” His voice is low, threatening to get bumpy. “But… you remember that girl who walked up at the bar? At the Blacklit room?”
II nods, confusion in his face. But he lets him continue. “Well, she texted me, about a week after the accident. Had me meet her at the sight. And she… well, she drugged me.”
II’s eyes go wide. “You telling me she did all that to you?” II looks horrified.
“…when I woke up she and her friends had me tied down.” Vessel’s lashes flutter, blinking away a bit of dew that’s gathering. “And then she… got on me. Told me I was some kind of offering, then got her knife out.”
II is silent. They both are for some time.
“…I think she’s dead, II.” Vessel says. “I dunno all that happened, I blacked out again. But she was gone and I… could just feel it.”
He wasn’t about to launch into the whole story. To be honest, he’d kick him out of the house too if he brought up Sleep. Though maybe one day they’ll be able to understand.
“I could be wrong.” He says. “She might still be out there. But no matter what, we’ll get justice for Matthew… I promise.”
Vessel almost thinks he hears the floorboards creak outside the door. He turns his head only for a moment, but II stays still. The drummer bows his head.
“…I loved him, I think.” He whispers. So quiet that it’s barely heard. So soft that Vessel knows it’s only halfway meant to be said; a confession for himself.
“Did you?”
“…maybe. I don’t know. I’ve known him since we were kids, on and off… never was able to shake the feeling that maybe I wanted him more than I had him. But it doesn’t matter now, does it? He’s fuckin dead.”
The words drill straight into Vessel’s chest like a knife. Oh, II…
The water choked him, salt burning his eyes as he swam out into the deep. He couldn’t see anything. Couldn’t hear anything but the water. It dragged on his clothes, trying to swallow him just so it could spit him out.
Vessel’s eyes glaze over, wondering off to a different plane. “…I had a sister, once.”
II looks up at him, blinking. “…not anymore?”
The words come out of his mouth like breathing. Like breathing with lungs full of water and a head full of so many memories it’s about to overflow.
“…I was sixteen.” He continues. “Wasn't supposed to happen, you know?” His voice breaks on the last word, and his throat ties in a knot. He hasn’t talked about it in years. “Just one day and… I lost her. I was supposed to watch her, to make sure she stayed close. I looked away for only a minute.”
II’s face is even paler as he listens, hands knotted in his lap. His eyes are wide as saucers and more intense than Vessel has ever seen them, though he barely dares to take his own off the opposite wall.
He clears his throat, swiping his cheek with a sigh. “…the point is, she gave me a keyboard for my birthday. That same day. She got to hear me play it, said she loved it… she always loved to listen. I was just teaching her how to play the piano that month… She was a natural.” His eyes are full now, lips quivering. But there’s a point to all of this, and he’s gotta see it through.
“Matt was a drummer, yeah?”
II nods, scrunching his hands in his jeans.
“Means he’s not all gone. He’ll be with you now, when you play. In the music and the sound. Just like she’s in the keyboard, and in every the piano. We keep playing for them.”
His hand climbs to II’s shoulder, squeezing softly. “To keep their sound alive.”
II sniffles, nodding. “…thank you.” he says, hunching into Vessel. He wraps his arms around his waist, disappearing into his side like a little shadow. Vessel isn’t sure what to do at first, wet eyes blinking away the fog now that he’s being held. His arms wrap slowly around his friend, hugging him like he hasn’t hugged anyone in awhile.
They sit like that for a few minutes. Neither of them say a word, and neither of them cry anymore. It’s a sacred moment suspended in time and memory that Vessel makes sure to lock away and not forget.
After awhile they part, and Vessel leaves for the door.
“Vess?” II’s voice follows after him. He turns, raising his brows.
“What ever happened to your keyboard?”
The drummer asks. “You still got it somewhere, right?”
Vessel shuffles his feet, fingers gripping the brass doorknob.
“…It was in the motel I was staying in before everything.” He says, swallowing hard. “Probably confiscated, by now. But it’s alright. Maybe it’ll turn up in a pawnshop one of these days, huh?” He tries to smile, for II’s sake. But they both know it’s forced.
II nods, knotting his hand in the bedspread. “Yeah, probably, mate.”
As Vessel walks out, his head turns down the hallway just in time to see III’s door close softly shut.
He hadn’t even heard him.
•••
The house is quiet.
More quiet than usual.
Vessel stands in the kitchen, hand splayed on the counter as he downs a glass of water. His eyes are unfocused, flitting lazily out the window at the pitch darkness and the kitchen reflected in it, trying to gather his thoughts.
Where had he gone?
IV and II are both in their rooms still, having gone to bed hours ago. The sun will be up in an hour or two. But Vessel only managed to grab a bit of sleep before getting up to pace the night away, mind turning sluggishly over the events of the past few days and how they might correlate to III’s sudden disappearance.
“Does he do this often?” He had asked IV as the sun was setting and the bassist was still nowhere to be seen. He hadn’t said he was going anywhere, or even that he had something he needed to do. IV shrugged. “Sometimes… not a lot. But don’t sweat it, I’m sure he’s fine. If he’s not here for breakfast I’ll try calling him again.”
Vessel rubs his eyes, blinking hard. His head still hurts from that bit of an emotional display with II earlier since, honestly, he hasn’t cried in a good long while. And even then, it was hardly a sob fest.
But it certainly could have been.
”If you’ve gotta be sad, why don’t you write about it?” He can hear her say. “Make a song about being sad. That way, when people hear it, maybe it’ll make them happy they’re not alone!”
He closes his eyes, dropping his head back as his fingers tap slowly over the edge of the cold counter. Back and forth… Hands arched… If he listens carefully, he can hear the notes.
A tear slides down his cheek.
Suddenly he hears something down the hall. His eyes flick open, turning around as his fingers go still.
He sets his glass down.
“II?” He whispers, passing by the drummer's door and going straight to the sliver of light pouring out of III’s. He doesn’t remember it being open.
Reaching for the knob, he pushes it quietly and peers inside.
III’s not here.
Nothing is out of the ordinary, the stained glass lamp casting a soft glow over the aesthetically pleasing mess. And yet his heart drops to the floor the second his eyes land on the middle of the bed.
There’s no fucking way. That’s not possible, is it?
An unmanageable frown starts growing on his mouth as he steps inside, hands reaching shakily for the familiar row of pearly white keys. They’re a little scratched, the black surface aged and feeling oddly bare of a white bow.
But it’s perfect.
He presses down a single note, the delicate sound settling into his bones.
“-it’s tuned.”
He turns around, eyes blinking hazily at III in the doorway.
“What?” His voice is half stolen. “How did you- where did you…”
III steps inside, doc martins and a long suit jacket not detracting from the bags under his eyes. He looks exhausted. He wanders closer to Vessel, looking down into his eyes and not stopping, finally. Those long lashes flutter as he looks over him, casting shadows down his cheeks.
His lips part. “…It’s tuned.”
Vessel’s arms are around him before he can stop himself, and III returns the gesture like it’s the simplest thing in the world. Like holding him was something he was always meant to do, and that all he needed was the proper time.
“Thank you.” Vessel chokes into his shoulder, hands clawing up the back of the jacket. “T-thank you.”
III’s hands spreads in the back of the singer's hair, holding him tight enough to suffocate him and not showing any sign of letting go.
“I’m sorry.” He breathes.
And that’s it.
…And that’s more than Vessel ever needed to hear from him.
He was spat out. Left on the shore, rejected by the sea and all that it contained. He was desperate. Alone. Made to wander and wonder why he wasn't fit for the same tomb as her, after all.
He waited on the beach, praying to the water. Spreading his hands in the foam and asking it, simply, why.
But it had no answer, and neither did anything else. Not his mother, not one of the flyers in the waiting room a month later. Not a god.
Though he had this insatiable desire; To claw down his mothers heaven, and make sure that the girl was in there. If there was ever a reason for heaven to be real, it was so that she’d be put in it and sheltered forever. Whether or not it was best. Whether or not he’d ever be able to reach her, in the end.
“Let the tide carry you…” his hands draw the sounds out of the freshly tuned keyboard, nodding his head slowly to the music. It’s alive again.
“…back to me.”
Tags: @thevenomousseprent @moonlit-valkyrie @mmendez0124 @yourviscera @rain-down-on-me @xzero01
#vessel#vessel sleep token#sleep token fanfiction#sleep token iii#sleep token#sleep token ii#sleep token iv#iii sleep token#jennifers body#jennifer’s body au#sleep token vessel
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Bracket reveal
Text version under cut!
The tourney is split into 4 32 brackets, and the winners of each will go to the semi finals! I'll make a different post about HOW the tourney will run, and this will serve as a pinned post for round 1 :)
Bracket 1, Side 1
Peppino (Vampire Survivors) vs Winged Strawberry (Celeste)
Herb (Monster Hunter) vs Triffids (Day of the Triffids)
Gigi (Xiaolin Showdown) vs Silent Princess (The Legend of Zelda)
Breath of Evil (Wings of Fire) vs Thorn Thallid (Magic the Gathering)
Audrey II (Little Shop of Horrors) vs Farewell Flower (Mistborn)
Togemon (Digimon) vs Silverwood Tree (Witch Hat Atelier)
Golden Apple Tree (Greek Mythology) vs Potbelly (My Singing Monsters)
Sculk (Minecraft) vs MocDonald (One Piece)
Bracket 1, Side 2
Vida (The Promised Neverland) vs Glaze Lily (Genshin Impact)
Dr Brewer's Clone (Goosebumps) vs The Spring (Friends at the Table)
Kite Eating Tree (Peanuts) vs Zotoh Zhaan (Farscape)
Wheel Tree (His Dark Materials) vs Mushtree (I Was a Teenage Exocolonist)
Medusoid Mycelium (A Series of Unfortunate Events) vs Radial (Ooblets)
Chikorita (Pokemon) vs Blast Cone (League of Legends)
Gooloog (AAAHH!!! Real Monsters) vs Venus (Bug Fables)
The Thorian (Mass Effect) vs Yggdrasil (Norse Mythology)
Bracket 2, Side 1
Deku Tree (The Legend of Zelda) vs Blood Blossoms (Danny Phantom)
Hotblonde37159 (Angel: The Series) vs Vash the Stampede (Trigun)
Kinoko (Don't Hurt Me, My Healer) vs Wolfsbane (The Vampire Diaries)
Plant (Monster Rancher) vs Flower of Life (Mesopotamian Mythology)
Truffula Tree (The Lorax) vs Slurperon Enchantress (Internet Scam)
The Brain Tree (Neopets) vs Ginseng Baby (Scarlet Hollow)
Chompy (Bug Fables) vs Whispy Woods (Kirby)
Clavu (Overlord) vs Ivern (League of Legends)
Bracket 2, Side 2
Bulbasaur (Pokemon) vs The Trees of Valinor (Lord of the Rings)
Leslie (The Amazing World of Gumball) vs Hayzee Dayzee (Paper Mario)
Piranha Plant (Mario) vs Specimen 34/The Blessed Eternal (Wolf 359)
Potted Plant (Wander Over Yonder) vs Morbuzakh (Bionicle)
Jabe & the Trees of Cheem (Doctor Who) vs Black Mercy (DC)
Mr Plant (The World of Mr Plant) vs Feculant Gnarlmaw (Warhammer 40k)
Tree Rex (Skylanders) vs Flowey (Undertale)
Sundrop Flower (Tangled) vs Venus McFlytrap (Monster High)
Bracket 3, Side 1
Pinchley (Long Gone Gulch) vs Frank the Plant (Harley Quinn: the Animated Series)
The Venus (Hello From the Hallowoods) vs Nirnroot (The Elder Scrolls)
Food Fight (Skylanders) vs Paopu Fruit (Kingdom Hearts)
Phillogenous esk Piemondum (Rod Albright Alien Adventures) vs Plant (Wall E)
Tannot Root (Farscape) vs The Broccoloids (The Powerpuff Girls)
Rockbud (The Stormlight Archive) vs Sylvan Hound (Guild Wars 2)
Eldridge Johnson-Mayer (The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy) vs Hyacinth/Hyacinthus (Greek Mythology)
Selas Flower (Kingkiller Chronicle) vs Treant (Disgaea)
Bracket 3, Side 2
Dragonflame Cacti (Wings of Fire) vs Sunflower (Plants vs Zombies)
The Bioplant (The Rising of the Shield Hero) vs Turnip Boy (Turnip Boy Commits Tax Evasion)
Shambling Mound (Dungeons and Dragons) vs Mandrake (Shin Megami Tensei/Persona)
Cowplant (The Sims) vs Ebony Queen's Apple (Limbus Company)
Devil Fruits (One Piece) vs Donkey-Cabbage (Enchanted Forest Chronicles)
Oaktopus (My Singing Monsters) vs Field Dungeon (Rune Factory 4)
Mushroom Tree (Stardew Valley) vs Jumpkin (Cassette Beasts)
Undergrowth (Danny Phantom) vs Karzahni (Bionicle)
Bracket 4, Side 1
Dreamstalk (Kirby) vs Myconid (Balders Gate 3)
Stingbulb (Fablehaven) vs Treebeard (Lord of the Rings)
Stray Cat (Jojo's Bizarre Adventure) vs Peashooter (Plants vs Zombies)
Giant Turnip (Codename: Kids Next Door) vs Treasure Mushroom (Guild Wars 2)
Tree of Wisdom (Sonic the Hedgehog) vs Fire Flower (Mario)
Stump (The Angry Beavers) vs Groot (Marvel)
Maise (Oneshot) vs Konohana Tree (Okami)
Red Weed (War of the Worlds) vs Pod Plant (Fortnite)
Bracket 4, Side 2
Plantera (Terraria) vs The Grass Snake (Friends at the Table)
Breathweed (Warhammer 40k) vs Campestri (Dungeons and Dragons)
Neo Alraune (Sleepy Princess in the Demon Castle) vs Kringlefucker (Homestuck)
Slimefoot the Stowaway (Magic: The Gathering) vs Gatfruit Tree (Space Station 13/14)
Sex Pollen Plant (Fanfiction) vs The Rumor Weed (VeggieTales: Larry-Boy and the Rumor Weed)
Dr Madley Radish (Papa Louie) vs Vervain (The Vampire Diaries)
Yatevon (OCTAHEDRON: Transfixed Edition) vs Echo Flower (Undertale)
Wither Rose (Minecraft) vs Hydramon (Digimon)
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Ghost bc Whump Month Day Two: Collapse
Little late with these but better than never I guess!
TW for a character forgetting / neglecting to eat
You never minded working hard, and it wasn’t that you were trying to grind yourself to the bone. It was just, easy to forget about everything else on tour. There was always something. Last minute costume fixes, scheduling issues, keeping the bus clean. And the ghouls. The ghouls. Swiss and Dew making a mess after one of their shenanigans, Swiss and Dew at one another’s throats, trying to get Mountain up for rehearsals— The point was that there was always something to do!
And today was one of those days. Everything that could go wrong, was kind of going wrong. First, you were up early to get coffees and breakfast for everyone because a particularly plucky fire ghoul fried the outlets last night and no one had had time to repair them yet. Thankfully, Aether was up early too and offered to come with and help you bring it all back so you got some mercy there. Then you broke up a squabble about who took the last cinnamon roll and went about making calls to reschedule interviews, make sure the venues were prepared, let the hotel know you would be late to check in because of course, the bus was having problems.
You’d been busy. And breakfast was far gone. But you still had work to. So, you ignored the neglected rumblings of your stomach and your shaky hands and pushed through the best you could. It was your turn to clean the bus anyway, and you were nearly done, only the kitchenette left. You’d eat as soon as you were done. You’d bent down to pick up a fork you’d dropped while doing the dishes when footsteps resounded behind you, coming to a casual stop.
“Hey sister, do you know if we have any crackers left?” Dewdrop asked, yawning. Probably just got up from a nap.
“Um.” You frown, standing up. Blood rushes from your head and you steady yourself with a hand on the counter, little black spots slowly creeping their way into your vision. “Check the cabinets,” you sigh. “Can’t remember.” Every second that goes by the black spots creep further and further in. You shake your head, gripping the counter. Just push through. Almost done. You take a glass from the sink, fumbling for the dish rag.
“Hey, you good?”
“Hmm?” You turn around, leaning back on the counter. Dew’s voice is coming from somewhere, but right now you can’t possibly pinpoint exactly where that somewhere might be.
“You didn’t answer my question.” His voice is hollow, and why is everything spinning? The glass slides from your hand, shattering on the floor with a loud crash. “Shit!”
“Oopsie Daisy,” you mumble. You hear a distant “Fuck!” as the world goes black.
“She just went down.” A cold sweat sweeps over you, and as you crack your eyes open, you’re vaguely aware of two shadowy heads looming over you.
“Did she hit her head?” There’s cotton in your ears, fuzzy, muddled.
“Nah, caught her before she fell.”
“What happened?” You groan, trying to sit up.
“Hey, hey, hey, easy.” Aether’s guides you up to sit slowly with firm, gentle hands on your shoulders, and you blink in confusion.
“You passed out on me,” Dew says softly. Then there’s a glass of water thrust into your hand. You take a small sip, and then another. The cold water soothing your befuddled mind, lifting that heavy fog.
“We should get you to your bunk. You need to rest right now,” Aether murmurs. All you can do is nod weakly, letting the Aether ghoul help you up from the floor and walk you to your bunk. He settles you in with a cold facecloth on your forehead, saying he’ll come check on you in a bit.
You’re alone for a few minutes, finishing off your glass of water when there’s a knock on the outside of your bunk. You pull back the curtains to find Dew holding a plate with some crackers, cheese, and a few candies on it
“Feelin’ good enough to eat something?” You offer him a small smile and scoot over on the smell bed, patting the empty space next to you in offering. The fire ghoul huffs, but takes your offer, handing you the plate before settling in, tucking a hand behind his head.
“Thanks,” you murmur, gingerly taking a bite out of a cracker. When it doesn’t upset your stomach, you wolf it down, putting a slice of cheese on the next one.
“Figured you hadn’t eaten,” he chuckles, and you nod.
“Got busy.”
“I know. You’ve been going non-stop all day.” He frowns at you, a very unfamiliar crease forming between his brows. He’s worried.
“Sorry,” you murmur sheepishly around another cracker, and Dew shakes his head.
“No, no you don’t have to apologize. It’s just—you scared me is all.” He grumbles it out, a hand scratching at his brow. And your heart melts a little bit at that. You snuggle closer to the fire ghoul, and though you’re fully expecting him to pull away, he doesn’t. “C’mere,” he mutters under his breath, sliding an arm under your head, pulling you into his side. You rest your head on his chest, feeling Dew tuck you under his chin, his warmth calming you.
“Thanks.”
“For what?” You shrug.
“Worrying about me.” A puff of soft laughter tickles your hair.
“Someone’s got to.” You merely hum, finishing off your snack and popping a candy into your mouth. Dew places the plate on the floor, and for awhile, the two of you lie together in total silence; him, petting your hair and gently purring, you with a small smile on your face.
“Can’t believe you said oopsie daisy before passing out,” Dew snickers, and you squeeze your eyes shut in embarrassment.
“Shut up!” you groan, but you’re laughing along with him.
“It was cute.”
“Yeah?” You crane your neck up, and he looks down at you, grinning in amusement.
“Yeah.”
The exhaustion of the day is getting to you, and Dew’s warmth and the sway of the bus are certainly not helping. You fight to keep your eyes open.
“Hey,” Dew murmurs, noticing as you try to rub the sleep from your eyes. “Just sleep, you got nowhere you need to be.” And as though he’s pulling the thoughts straight out of your mind, Dew adds: “I’ll be right here when you wake up.” You smile into the fire ghoul’s chest, and with the feeling of his cheek resting atop your head, you drift off into much needed slumber.
#the band ghost#ghost bc#ghost bc fanfic#whump month#dewdrop ghoul#sodomizer ghoul#dewdrop x reader#nameless ghouls
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hold your breath
you take steve to see eddie and corroded coffin at a little hole in the wall venue, just the two of you, and you find yourselves getting lost in the music…and each other • *18+ | ( 2.2k, smut, fingering in public, tiny bits of fluff, established relationship, steve x you, steve x reader )
H O L D Y O U R B R E A T H
🎶 hot blooded, new constellations
“Here?” your breath hitched as you felt your back meet the rough brick behind you, Steve’s arm bracketing you in, a hand holding tight to your hip.
*“Mmm, main act’s on now–” he pressed kisses to your jaw, “–no one’s coming out here–” kisses along your neck, “–got at least a couple songs–” one heated, lingering kiss dragged against the hollow behind your ear, “–plenty of time.”
Your hands pressed into his chest, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt, and you grinned as he caught your lips between his. “Okay, hot shot. You’re on the clock,” letting go with one hand you carded it through his hair, tugging just a little at the end and Steve loosed a low groan.
“So impatient,” he teased, tone rougher than before. Brushing his nose against your neck he silently asked for more access and you granted it, hair catching on on the wall behind you as you tilted your head back.
You don’t remember how exactly you’d wound up round back of the Tin Bucket. Eddie had told you both earlier in the week that Corroded Coffin landed a gig there on Friday night and that he had a few extra tickets. It was obviously an emphatic yes from the two of you to the tickets and an immediate scowl from Robin when Steve asked her to cover his shift.
“Oh, just shut up already, Harrington.”
“But I didn’t even say anything!”
“You don’t have to. Your stupid, big, brown eyes say enough.”
“What are you–”
“I’ll cover your dumb shift. So you can ‘go out’ or whatever,” Robin looped her fingers around ‘go out’ and rolled her eyes so hard she swore they’d fall out the back of her head, but then Steve was grinning at her. One of those, thank you I love you I owe you, grins and she’d caved.
“Seriously, whatever you want. Wash your car, take the kids to the arcade, write Vickie a sweet little love lett–”
“Don’t push it,” she leveled him with a look and he put up his hands in surrender, but the grin was still plastered on his lips. Robin couldn’t help a small smile and let out an exasperated sigh, “You’re a menace, Harrington.”
“Thank you, you’re the best!” his voice edged on sing-songy as he shoved out into the hot summer air, leaving Robin behind in the air conditioning.
“He’s the fuckin’ worst. I dunno how you convinced me, Buckley. The worst,” Keith breathed, mouth open. “You better have those returns put away by the time I’m done with this,” he waved a sub sandwich at her on the way to the break room and Robin made a mental note that Steve owed her at least times-three for this one.
Corroded Coffin wasn’t the headliner, but damn if Eddie and the boys didn’t pack that room full. There were tons of kids from Hawkins high, a mixture of groups, and you were surprised to see that even Chrissy and some of her cheerleader friends had shown up. The bartenders were carding people, but so many people were ordering beer for friends that it didn’t even matter.
The closing song came to an end and the crowd exploded, you could barely hear Eddie over the sound, “You’ve all been incredible! Thank you so much, we’re Corroded Coffin, we love you!” He threw a fist in the air to more screaming and cheers before exiting stage left and you grinned up at Steve.
“Shit, that was really good,” he said, looking down at you, his brows lifted in bewilderment.
“Well, yeah. It’s Eddie, of course it was good,” you shot back, poking your fingers into his ribs as he laughed and swatted your hand away.
“Alright, alright,” he chided, then grabbed your hand. “It’s hotter than hell in here. Wanna get some air?” thumbing over his shoulder you couldn’t say no as the lights from the stage caught his eyes. All burnt caramel and warm honey, pupils blown from the beer and your shared pre-show joint. When you nodded yes he threaded you both through the thick crowd of people and out a side door that said ‘Exit Only’ above it in flickering fluorescent red.
When the door shut behind you it cut the sound in half, but you could hear the beginnings of the headliners warming up, all electric riffs and clangy high-hat slams. The Indiana sky was painted all deep purples and inky blues, sun still clinging onto the edge of the horizon, and the air was warm and thick and smelled like summer.
Steve let out a sigh and stretched his arms over his head, shirt lifting to expose just a silver of his back and you felt your stomach flip over. Dating for almost a year and the sight of him still made you feel electric. Like everything was new and yours and when he turned back around you felt the air between you crackle.
“What?” he asked, watching you stare at him, lips tugging up into a lopsided grin.
“Nothing."
You were a bad liar and he caught it, grin growing, the look on his face making you pull your lower lip in between your teeth.
“Enjoying the fresh air?” slowly walking toward you he tried for a casual, unassuming tone, but you could hear the smugness underneath it all. Fixing him with a look, you returned his grin.
“Well you’re certainly full of it,” you shot back teasingly as one of his hands reached for purchase on your hip, tugging you close to him. His other hand combed through your hair, easing a few stray locks behind your ear, and you felt your skin warm under his thumb as it brushed over your cheek.
“Yeah? I think you like it,” he half-whispered, knowing just how to wind you up, how to tease out that look in your eye, and you hooked your fingers into his belt loops to pull him into you all rough.
“You’re impossible,” lifting a hand you ran your thumb over his bottom lip, soft and pink, before leaning up to catch it between yours.
He tasted like beer and spearmint gum and you could feel him grinning against you. His voice was notched lower and full of heat, “What’re you lookin’ for, princess?”
“What’re you offering?” you felt your heart fluttering in your chest at the idea of two of you doing anything out here in the dark.
“Could think of a few things,” and with that he backed you up, attached to you at the mouth, pulling soft, sweet sounds from your lips.
“Here?” your breath hitched as you felt your back meet the rough brick behind you, Steve’s arm bracketing you in, a hand holding tight to your hip.
“Mmm, main act’s on now–” he pressed kisses to your jaw, “–no one’s coming out here–” kisses along your neck, “–got at least a couple songs–” one heated, lingering kiss dragged against the hollow behind your ear, “–plenty of time.”
Your hands pressed into his chest, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt, and you grinned as he caught your lips between his. “Okay, hot shot. You’re on the clock,” letting go with one hand you carded it through his hair, tugging just a little at the end and Steve loosed a low groan.
“So impatient,” he teased, tone rougher than before. Brushing his nose against your neck he silently asked for more access and you granted it, hair catching on on the wall behind you as you tilted your head back.
The stone of the building was hot under your exposed skin, still warm from the sun, and as Steve pressed himself against you, you thought you might melt away. He was kissing every bit of you that he could, hands wandering over the curves and dips of your body, fingers playing at the hem of your dress and god you wanted more.
“We can stop if you want, just tell me,” he cut his words with kisses as he pulled a little moan from your lips, pausing just long enough to catch your eyes, wanting to make sure you were okay.
“No, don’t,” your tone held just enough weight that he didn’t need to be told again and the look in your eyes, dark and needy, drove him to dip down and drag his lips along your collarbone and bare shoulders.
You and Steve had done this plenty of times before at parties, on the loungers next to his pool, both of your bedrooms had certainly seen enough, but this was different. The thought of getting caught flickered in your chest, but it pushed you to keep going, a thrill you were both chasing.
He slipped a hand up over your dress, fingertips tracing over the thin fabric, and you took his hand in yours to push it over the top of your breast. “Steve,” you murmured, head still leaning against the wall, lashes heavy on your cheeks and he brought his mouth back to yours.
“Tell me, babe, what d’you want?"
“You. Want you,” you took a handful of your dress, rucking it up your legs, and then dragged his hand down your body, letting go when you reached your thighs.
“Christ,” Steve loosed a groan. He ran his thumb across the lace of your panties, against the soft cotton of the fabric and down the dip between your legs to feel just how wet you were. Another, softer groan fell from his lips, his brows knitting together, and when he pressed his lips to your ear he sounded wrecked, “Baby.”
At the press of his fingers you moaned, louder this time, and he huffed a laugh.
“Sweetheart, you have to be quiet, we can just go to the car–”
“No, no. I’ll be quiet,” you promised, hips tilting into him, keening for him. He hummed at your reply, a soft okay, and gently pulled the soft lilac cotton of your panties to the side to slip a finger into you.
You promised you’d be quiet, but god he made it hard. Biting down on the inside of your cheek you sucked in a breath, fingers twisting into the fabric of his shirt. Be quiet. Be quiet.
“You okay?” his hand slipped easy in your slick, in and out in and out, his voice rough and low as the feeling of him crept through you like a slow burning fire.
“Steve,” you whined and he took the hint, adding another finger and fanning the small ember in your chest into flames. Your hand took hold of his jaw and tugged his lips rough against yours, swallowing anything else he’d wanted to say.
It was hot and dirty, and he sped up his rhythm, dropping his thumb down to drag heavy circles over your clit. You moaned into him, tongue licking along his bottom lip and he opened to you, deepening the kiss. The coil in your stomach tightened as he helped you to chase your high, fingers curled in against you just how you liked it.
“So good, you’re so good,” Steve’s mouth was still pressed into yours as he said your name, reverent like a prayer, praises falling from his lips into yours over and over.
“Oh, oh shit, Steve, s–so close,” you both were breathing heavy, lungs gasping in the heat of summer and firecrackers and all the galaxies in the sky above you, and Steve wanted nothing else in the entire world but you.
“C’mon, sweetheart, come for me. So pretty, so damn beautiful.”
His words wrapped around you, sweet and saccharine, golden like honey and something inside you snapped. Your hips bucked into his hand, squeezing around him, leaping over the edge as wave after wave after wave of climax washed over your body like the sea and Steve was your anchor, your lifeline, your way back down.
As he slowed you felt your legs wobble under you and you gasped as he pulled his hand away to wrap both arms around your waist. “Whoa, I got you, y’okay?” he half laughed as he steadied you both, your forehead dipping forward to rest on his chest as you felt a laugh of your own come out in a huff.
“’Okay’, the worst review ever of what just happened,” looping your arms around his neck for a better hold, you looked up into his eyes. “Every time, you get me every time,” you said shaking your head and he gave you the absolute most smug grin of all time and ran his tongue along his lips.
“Oh yeah? Every time, huh? Didn't get caught either. How am I doin’ on the clock?” he wiggled his brows at you and you tugged a hand down to flick at his arm.
The music had just started inside, shifting quickly from warm ups to set list, and you both realized at the same time that he more than satisfied the ask. He shot you an I told you so look and you groaned.
“It was dumb luck we didn't get caught," you quipped, but a smile was playing on your lips. "And fine. Great. Fabulous on the clock,” you relented with a half-hearted eye roll as he pressed a kiss to your temple, grinning against you. But then his hands were moving to gently pull your dress back down and his face was dangerously close to yours again and your breath caught in your throat, all teasing swept away with the breeze.
“...Steve?”
“Yeah?”
“Can we please get outta here?”
“Yep. Yes. Absolutely.”
And you’re not sure who made it to the car first, but Steve probably should’ve gotten a ticket for speeding home.
crappymixtape™ • steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist
#stranger things#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things fic#steve harrington#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x fem#steve harrington stranger things#steve stranger things#steve x you#steve fanfic#steve x reader#steve x fem#steve harrington series#steve harrington fic#steve harrington smut#steve smut#steve fic
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Blood kink and gun kink with dazai :D
— tw. dark themes (blood kink, gun play) feat. Dazai Osamu.
+ mdni. reblogs are always appreciated!
Dazai drags the cold slick metal all over your collarbones, then down to your chest, your ribs and down lower to your belly button, the motion making you shiver, your toes curling.
There is a thrill in knowing that Dazai is in complete control in what is happening. The gun in his hand is unloaded, but it’s still a fire-arm and now he’s sliding it now to your Venus mount, and then edging on the verge of the slit of your pussy. He looks at you, somewhat asking, as he pushes the gun between your seams slowly, and then carries it down, down, down, as it touches your hole, already clenching for something that is not there.
“Dazai-san?” you ask gingerly, as he hums at you and instead presses the cold gun to your clitoris, the shivers running cold and hot and deep, your head thrown back in pleasure, goosebumps breaking skin and fear rippling over your body.
“Hai?”
You’re almost sitting in his lap by know, naked, as he sits fully clothed and drinks you in, guilty of wanting to eating you whole, wanting to be the only thing to hold you together as he caresses you with his gun and makes a circle over your nipples. God, he’s certainly taking his sweet time, and you’re wet already and he hasn’t even touched you properly.
“Would you consider fucking me with that gun?”
“Do you prefer a cold metal object to my big warm cock?” He snarks. He grins. He looks gone, and then, there’s a small knife in his hand, his gun forgotten on the bedside table - maybe for later - and he’s already pressing it into the hollow part of your throat, enough to draw blood, but not to be dangerous. Dazai has always been good drawing lines.
“Is that it?” he asks, as he observes the knife, now streaking with a path of red blood, and he rises one hand aloft to touch the wound and smear some of the blood over your breasts. The metallic tang is instantaneous.
He drives another wedge in you, as he pressed the knife lower, above your breast, and you hiss at the pang of pain that hits you.
Dazai licks at the spot, as the blood stops flowing. “You prefer some non-sentient object fucking you instead of me?” he taunts again, and you find that you’ve lost your capacity to formulate words that have any sense and string them along. There is just Dazai, his knife and the way his tongue, still warm from your blood swirls all over your nipples.
“Cat got your tongue, princess?”
You shake your head, but he knows you’re wet and just waiting for him to make a decision.
“So your mouth is being useless right now. Shall we make it otherwise?” he prompts as he shoves the head of the revolver in your mouth. “Now, suck on it if you want it to be slick enough to fuck you.”
Dazai’s lips are dirtied in blood, as your have collected other three wounds by the time he allows you to take off the gun, dripping with your saliva.
#dazai osamu#dazai osamu smut#dazai osamu x reader#dazai smut#dazai osamu x you#dazai x you#dazai x reader#bsd x you#bsd x reader#bsd smut
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This is the point where I'm actually truly disappointed at Taylor.
Posting a small note on her stories without even mentioning Ana Clara's name is a choice, quite possibly one made not only by her. It hurts to see the distance that is being put between Taylor and Ana, but I can understand that this is a PR decision that goes beyond just her (even if, being honest, I think it's very wrong and cold and, at this point in Taylor's career, unnecessary).
Like everyone, I got emotional watching her singing Bigger Than The Whole Sky, seeing how emotional she was herself, seeing that the whole crowd was meaning every word while singing it with her.
But at the same time, we were first hearing the news that Ana's family isn't getting any support, not from the venue, not from the company and not from Taylor's team and this made the entire thing hollow. Because how can you spend you whole career preaching about the collaboration between your fans and still turn the blind eye when something like this happens?
Even if she still wanted to keep distance from that tragedy, something that I'd never think she should do, but that I could try to understand and see the reasons, she has all the means in the world to help. At this point, her word is worth a lot, even more when it comes to a fan in her concert. If she didn't want her name being associated further with this, an anonymous donation would be more than enough. Actually, it was the bare minimum we all not only hoped, but thought was already happening.
Distancing herself from this goes directly against everything Taylor went for her whole career and it's really really painful to see that the care she has for us has limits she could surpass with very little effort.
We are joining to help Ana's family, organizing a fundraiser to pay for everything they need, because once more, the fans have to do what people that SHOULD be doing things aren't moving. And we are still trying to get Taylor's team attention because if they can listen to the fans asking to turn off the pyrotechnics for Bad Blood, they can listen when we ask help to allow a family to have at least a bit of dignity when grieving a tragedy like this.
I hope Taylor can change my mind and we have some help from her team, better late than never, but until then,
Help Ana's family donating to this PayPal:
(this is the only official mean to donate, beware scammers)
And by the way, in no way I mean this as a way to blame Taylor Swift or her team when the true people to blame is T4F. I want this company to rot and declare bankruptcy before the year ends for all they are making us go though from beginning to end of this experience. I just feel like seeing their inaction, Taylor should be doing something.
#I'm speaking this as a Brazilian swiftie who has spent A LOT of money to go to this tour and still woke up wanting to cancel everything#I'm drained#taylor swift#ana clara benevides#rest in peace ana#t4f exigimos respeito#justice for ana#eras tour rio 1#erastour#eras tour brazil#talking tag
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an arlefuri playlist for all the girlies that love tall foreboding women
features french & jpn & kr & eng alt rock/pop/indie
1. L'Emprise / Mylène Farmer
2. Démon / Alice et Moi
3. Ami ! Amant ! / Opéra de Nuit
4. BLOOD ON BLOOD / Anna Tsuchiya
5. L'Orage / Ciao Venus
6. Bad Girl / LADIES' CODE
7. Le Bien Qui Fait Mal / Mozart Opera Rock
8. She Wolf / Shakira
9. Rayons Gamma / P.R2B
10. Le Sang De Mon Prochain / La Femme
11. Conscience / Marie-Mai
12. Paradis Bleu / Revers Gagnant & Matlid
13. Alibi / Johnny Hollow
14. Criminal / Taemin
15. Écoute Cherie / Vendredi sur Mer
16. Toxic / Britney Spears
17. Karma / Alice et Moi
18. Villain / Stella Jang
19. Kill Of The Night / Gin Wigmore
20. MAD HEAD LOVE / Kenshi Yonezu
21. Dans Le Noir Je Vois Rouge / Le Rouge Et Le Noir
22. Red Flags / Tom Cardy & Montaigne
23. Blasphémie / Soko
24. La Cigale / Automelodi
forever a wip and will have more songs added whenever i feel like it!
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A Hollow Promise [24] chapter vi, part i
{_[on AO3]_}
main tags : loki x original character, post-avengers 2012, canon divergence - post-thor: the dark world, canon-typical violence, mentions of torture
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summary: In the aftermath of the Battle of New York, the Avengers need a few days to build a transport device for the Tesseract. With the Helicarrier damaged and surveillance offline, SHIELD sends an asset to guard Loki in the interim: a young woman who sees the truth in all things, and cannot lie.
Even long presumed dead, her memories lost to her, Loki would know her anywhere.
And this changes things.
Some things last beyond infinity. And the universe is in love with chaos.
(Loki was never looking for redemption. It came as an unexpected side-effect.)
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chapter summary : astrid gathers her allies, and draws the attention of her enemies. loki pays a heavy price for a victory.
recommended listening : all the good girls go to hell, billie eilish
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[PREVIOUS] | [MASTERLIST] | [NEXT]
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60 weeks and 1 day out
Astrid hated the Gallery.
The climate-controlled villa was a reprieve from the dense, nocturnal marine humidity of Madripoor. The side-gate and front door had quietly unlocked for her, sweat wicking from the bridge of her nose and nape of her neck as she stepped over the threshold and into the chilled air, navigating the quiet hallways with experienced familiarity.
Even years later, something about the place still grated on her- quietly gathering under her skin and congealing into a twitch of her fingers and the urge to break something.
Astrid swallowed it down. Her greed would make room to tolerate it- devouring anything that fed it.
Once she had something to aim for, everything else was secondary.
The hardened soles of her boots tapped against the charcoal tile. Drifting with slow, rotating steps as she typed on her phone, hammering out another forum post, Astrid felt the quiet of the empty hall press in against her as she waited.
The main hall was dimly lit. Partitioned by dozens of tall glass display cases forming corridors across the floor, each box was floodlit with LED frames of clean white light, suspending their wares in the darkness.
Despite the museum-grade display- at a quick glance, Astrid estimated that she was standing in the midst of a few hundred million USD- the exhibition resembled a nightclub more than a showroom. A fully stocked bar was built out from the far wall, bottles and liquors set aglow on shelves against butterscotch-golden lights, a state-of-the-art sound system installed overhead, the glass in the cases designed to withstand the heavy bass of EDM. From her visits to the Gallery during opening hours, Astrid had the impression that most of its clientele treated it as just another venue of entertainment; like a clear-topped shark aquarium installed under a dancefloor, or blood sports hosted in basement rooms, or experimental party drugs in candy bowls, the Gallery’s gimmick was the ability to order your next drink with a side of illicitly traded artwork.
It was empty for tonight.
She sighed, stretching her neck, and hit the publish button, before tucking her phone away.
Astrid half-wished that she was in the Brass Monkey instead.
The bar was a hub, a bureau of exchange and centre of information. It was a foothold that she had chiselled herself into early on, through months of work and whoring out her services and placing the right information in the right place at the right time- eventually earning an off-menu drink at the Saloon with her namesake, doubling as a method to contact her, if ordered with the right code phrase. Astrid had become a product that would earn the Saloon money; conversely, the Saloon was a rich resource for Astrid to exploit.
But the modus operandi of this client had changed, precluding any meetings out in the open. Astrid had decided not to begrudge it- not when she intended to wring it for every advantage she could get, anyway.
A set of footsteps sounded from behind her, sharper than her own, the snap signalling a pair of classic high heels.
Astrid turned her head to greet them, her body following its turn like a fouetté.
The woman breezing towards her was tall, slender, serene as lilies and polished to an edge. While they were both dressed in monochrome black, Astrid was dressed for the streets, light enough for the heat and sturdy enough for a fight- slim-fit jeans, a cotton camisole, leather jacket, and a scuffed steel-capped boots designed for wildland firefighters, her platinum hair wrapped up and secured with a few steel pins. By direct contrast, her client’s willowy frame was draped in a pair of gauzy palazzo trousers and a sleeveless blouse, capped off with a pair of iconic, red-soled Louboutins. A triple-row of diamond studs glinted in her earlobes, sharp against her dark, cool-toned skin, fine black tresses gathered up into a sleek chignon.
The dirt from clawing her way up from the streets had long been scrubbed from beneath her French-tip fingernails, buffed out and resolved into political-socialite glamour.
Astrid did not like the Gallery, but she did like Ophelia Sarkissian- redoubtable social-climbing bitch in Prada that she was.
Although they really should have another conversation on how designer label was not synonymous with prestige or quality. Ophelia owned a few too many Birkens to be respectable.
With a mostly genuine smile, Ophelia greeted her in a cloud of subtle perfume, sliding an arm around Astrid’s waist with nonchalant familiarity.
“Come on,” she said, “I know you hate this place.”
Astrid exhaled a laugh, noiseless and appreciative, letting herself be pulled along.
Their relationship may have been transactional, but they were still friendly. Astrid enjoyed Ophelia’s shamelessness; Ophelia liked Astrid’s casual confidence.
Ophelia steered her through to the private wing of the villa, away from the exhibition room. Beyond the show floor, the rooms became high-ceilinged and clad in clean white and golden oak; separated less by solid walls and more by tall glass-paned doors, it had the neutral gloss of a pied-à-terre or hotel suite, complete with brass clothing porters and florist-arranged vases. The décor was vacuous, flavourless as high-end vodka, but it was a little less obnoxious about it. The French doors were left ajar to the darkness of the gardens and outbursts of summer storms, and the cold pretence of domesticity, smooth as nail polish, tasted truer to Ophelia than the exhibition room.
The Gallery was not a business that she had founded. It was acquired, along with her crown- with Astrid as her kingmaker.
Without breaking stride, Ophelia led them through to a familiar sunken lounge. A full Western tea service had been arranged on the coffee table; Astrid immediately recognised the porcelain- trios of cups, saucers, and dessert plates in glazed white and vivid teal, the rims painted with dainty ivy-vine gold scrolling- as the Coalport set that she had authenticated for Ophelia as a personal favour, shortly after she had consolidated control over the Gallery. The silver, however, was new. Dramatically sculpted, faceted and delicately engraved, it was comprised of a tall kettle and stand, teapot, coffee server, creamer and sugar pot, imposing and imperious, complete with an etched mirror-polished tray, matching sets of filigree-wrought tongs, and gilded fruit forks.
Magpie.
She couldn’t be too snide. She knew where Ophelia’s compulsion to collect things came from, and it was far more sympathetic than her own idle materialism.
Ophelia pulled off her heels with a sigh, letting them clatter to the hardwood floor unceremoniously, padding over to one of dive-grey corner sofas.
“Tea or coffee?”
Taking a seat across from her, Astrid pulled each row of her laces slack, stepping on the backs of her heels to loosen the boots.
“Coffee. You’re not my only appointment.”
With a soft noise of approval, Ophelia reached for the tall server. She poured a clear, dark ribbon of espresso into one of the coffee cups- the strength of the brew turning Astrid’s stomach for a moment- before adding a few cubes of sugar and dousing it in milk, in a series of clean, efficient motions.
“Busy bee,” she commented, sliding the cup across to Astrid on its saucer. “You must be glad to be back.”
Astrid slipped her fingers into the delicate handle and lifted the coffee can to her lips, taking a sip, the bittersweet cooled latte melting across her tongue.
“No rest for the wicked.” She said, slanting into her seat and gazing into the silverware. “And I’ve been sitting still for long enough.”
She rarely drank coffee. It always seemed ungracious to refuse, though, when Ophelia specifically stocked a few roasts that didn’t leave her feeling nauseous and never commented on how her tastes turned it into a drinkable dessert- despite Ophelia being an insufferable connoisseur of blends and flavour profiles and brewing techniques.
On the other hand, Astrid had once eaten instant coffee grounds with a spoon.
Her father had caught her at the island counter- wrung out from exams and compressed study and a lack of sleep, running out of matcha powder at the last minute- and confiscated the jar, shoving her to bed with a cup of chamomile tea dosed with a sleeping spell.
That had been an undignified morning.
It was going to be a similar kind of hell-week, she suspected.
“Eighteen thirty-five, by the way,” Astrid remarked from over the rim of her cup.
Ophelia paused, leaning over to the cake stand, floral-scalloped tongs in hand.
“The coffee service,” she elucidated, setting her cup in its saucer with a gentle clink. “William Bateman and Daniel Ball. The tea service is from eighteen forty-three. Joseph and George Angell. All wrought solid English silver, gilded interiors, original chasing, no significant repairs. The forks are eighteen forty-nine, silver gilt, Aaron Hadfield. Good condition, similar era.”
After a moment, Ophelia settled back in her seat, the corner of her unpainted mouth ticking up.
Astrid shrugged.
“An apology. For taking such a long hiatus on short notice.”
Nose crinkling charmingly, Ophelia swung forward, setting a plate piled high with confections- vanilla madeleines, gloss-shelled pastel macarons, shard-like cardamom biscotti- on Astrid’s side of the table.
“You came to see me first,” she said, almost warmly, “no apology needed.”
Astrid smiled mildly, editing down her smirk.
As expected of the Power Broker.
Ophelia knew the power of information better than almost anyone else in the entire city, keeping the threads wrapped around her fingertips and effecting a shift with the slightest tense and twitch. It was why she had kept Astrid on side, all these years- and why she would have been watching for her return.
“How was your sojourn, anyway?” Ophelia asked, her expression just slightly too sharp, dipping a biscotti into her espresso. “Productive?”
Astrid skimmed the gilded rim of her coffee cup with a fingertip.
“Enlightening,” she conceded, soft as muslin, tilting her head. “Actually- I have a recommendation, based on what I observed while I was there. If you’re interested.”
“And what’ll it cost me?” Ophelia asked teasingly.
“Serious consideration,” Astrid replied evenly, “no more, no less.”
She sat up slightly, sobering.
“Well, now I’m worried. You rarely give out freebies unless you’re in a very good mood.” Ophelia cocked an eyebrow, lifting her demitasse cup in a half-toast. “Or if it’s going to benefit you somewhere down the line.”
“Hmn.”
Astrid denied nothing. Taking a pistachio macaron, she sat back in her seat, lifting her eyes to Ophelia with a steady blink.
“Cut ties with the serpent. That is my advice.”
Ophelia stilled, eyes fixed into nothing.
It was like watching a predator that had caught the scent of another predator.
“That,” she said, measured and calculating, “is a very lucrative investment.”
“I don’t doubt it.” Astrid took a bite of the macaron, the light, chewy honeycomb interior disintegrating in her mouth. “But smart investors tend sell their stock before the market crash.”
That gave Ophelia pause.
“Is it going to?” She asked shrewdly.
“Yes.”
“Are you going to make it crash?”
“Most likely not.”
“But you’ll profit off it.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time.”
Exhaling sharply, Ophelia flicked her head aside, breaking into a bright smile.
“I’ve missed this,” she admitted. “You always say what you mean.”
“And you never wonder why?”
“Please, I already know you’re self-interested, Thia. It’s why I like doing business with you. You say what you say to get what you want. I know that. And anyway- all I need to do is ask if you’re trying to screw me over.”
Astrid felt herself relax, slowly easing back into her seat.
She had almost forgotten what it was like, negotiating with someone who knew and acknowledged the conditions binding her, and played the game accordingly.
“Then are you going to ask?”
Ophelia’s expression slackened, exasperated.
“Are you going to screw me over?”
“No.” Astrid said simply, taking another draught of her latte. “The opposite.”
She hitched an eyebrow.
“Does this mean I’m going to be indebted to you?”
“You mean more indebted?”
Ophelia’s beautiful features hardened slightly.
“I hadn’t forgotten,” she said coolly.
Astrid smiled placatingly, clement as sunlight streaming through stained glass.
It hadn’t been a threat, or even a reminder, just a statement of fact.
“I know,” she said gently. “And haven’t I always made it worth your while, being indebted to me?”
Astrid watched her defensiveness unspool, slowly.
“You’ve been a dream come true,” Ophelia admitted. “Considering the things you want, and the things you have no interest in. You’re so fair that I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. Or maybe a guillotine.”
Astrid laughed aloud.
“And take that useful head of yours? Why would I do that? I gain nothing by destroying you, Ophie.”
So please don’t change that. It would inconvenience us both.
With a resigned press of her jaw, masquerading as a phantom smile, Ophelia shrugged.
“And I gain nothing by making an enemy of you,” she conceded on a faintly grudging exhale. “I would just prefer to know the price I’m due to repay.”
“Ah-huh.” Astrid fixed her with a piercing look, burning. “And whatever happened to being willing to take a risk? Or are you refusing your own counsel?”
Ophelia’s cheek twitched.
It was the exact phrasing that Ophelia had used, long ago, when she had asked Astrid to back her in her coup. Astrid had pointed out that she had far more to lose, in the event of failure, than she ever stood to gain in the event of success, and Ophelia had given her killer smile as she asked if such a thing would prevent the audacious Alethia from taking a gamble.
Ophelia melted into a pout.
“Give me a clue, Thia.”
Astrid twitched her shoulder, taking a drink of coffee.
“If you are the woman that I think you are, this won’t ruin you.”
“Is that flattery?”
“I don’t lie.”
“You don’t threaten either.” Ophelia acknowledged, setting aside her empty demitasse cup. “Alright. Say I’m open to the suggestion. How much will it cost me? Cutting ties?”
“Less than it would cost if you didn’t.” Astrid met her gaze. “There will be opportunities to recoup. Especially given your career ambitions.”
The corner of her eye twitched.
“And if I don’t cut ties?”
“I wouldn’t have to do anything to make it hurt.”
For a long moment, Ophelia simply looked at her.
“Well,” she mused casually, “I suppose they are bastards.”
And that was what Astrid liked about Ophelia. She was perfectly capable of doing good, when the contrary wasn’t sufficiently profitable.
It was why she would make for an excellent politician.
“I can vouch for that,” Astrid said. “Not that you require it, I’m sure.”
“I thought your problem was with the eagle?”
“I can hate two things at the same time.”
Ophelia snorted in amusement.
“You are a multitasker,” she teased.
“Mm. Speaking of which.” Astrid leaned forward to set her dessert plate aside. “I know that you probably found another authenticator while I was on leave, but- if you held anything back in the vault, I can take a look at them now.”
Ophelia’s brows lifted. “Oh? I thought I wasn’t your last appointment?”
“The others can wait.”
She smirked, reaching for her phone.
“Why, colour me touched.”
Before Astrid could make a reply, she was tapping out a summons to her team, sending it with a flourish of her thumb.
“We do have a few obscure ones- the kind with fewer experts who can verify them, so it’s been too great a risk to send them out until we were certain. But Fliss just kept sourcing them, and I just couldn’t say no, and I decided that when you got back, I could just- ah. Actually,” Ophelia looked up, “I haven’t said it yet, have I?”
“Hm?”
She smiled, the gesture lifting the corners of her eyes.
When the words left her mouth, Astrid realised that Ophelia was mostly sincere.
“Welcome back, Thia.”
-
After leaving the Gallery, Astrid returned to the penthouse lounge. With only the cool, ambient cast of a sea of glittering light beyond uncovered windows to see by, she took out a small notebook, and made an addition to her list.
New shoes.
-
[PREVIOUS] | [MASTERLIST] | [NEXT]
#a hollow promise#cross posted on ao3#marvel fanfiction#avengers fanfiction#loki fanfiction#loki fanfic#loki x original female character#loki x ofc#loki odinson#loki laufeyson#loki friggason#mcu loki#post-avengers 2012#fix it au#no beta we die like canon by my blade#writing#chapter update#ao3 fanfic#ao3 writer#ao3 link
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(I have not watched the show)
#superman#leon#leon arknoah#anora#vbhi#vbh#venus blood hollow#venus blood#pfb#recolor#superman and lois#lois lane#lois and clark#my adventures with superman
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Apologies I haven't posted the next scene, life's been busy but it should be coming soon, but for now I'll leave a preview of it for y'all, though things might change depending on Tumblr's word count limit and wether or not I decide to also post this on AO3.
@luimagines . It's not complete at all yet but once again, thank you for all your work in the fandom and go check them out for the original prompt.
Preview to Opening Act, Scene IIII
The hooded and masked figure twitched, head listing lazily to the side, unhurried, as if bored or maybe dissapointed as they sighed apathetically, it gave you gooseflesh, but you dared not move an inch, struggling against your own limbs and with the Shadow at your back, "You know I wouldn't have taken the heroes of Hyrule for liars and oath breakers, and also against the laws of hospitality. Shooting arrows and magic at your host within their own home? For shame! Didn't your parents teach you better?"
You could see how each of the heroes bristled, but seeing crimson beading against your unwilling, trapped skin stayed their blade, though that did not stop Legend from snarling up at the hidden figure, sipping tea as if it was watching an incredibly entertaining play, "Oath breakers? That's rich coming from you! You said we could stay here safely and then leave once the storm was over!"
"And you attacked one of our first." Added Warriors, his tone as glacial as the winter winds, enough to freeze anyone down to the marrow.
They incline their head, voice distorted, the screaming echo of scavengers like nails on chalkboard and as refined as a well curated blade, "True, though I never said you'd all leave unharmed, did I? And you didn't keep your end of the deal either." Their tone goes dryer, as they throw the tea cup away without a care in favor of throwing their hands up, as if it was the Chain being unreasonable and not the person who presumably did something to Shadow and Hyrule's own Shade, you can see Sky barely keeping his grip on an enraged Four, "Besides! I didn't attack them, they kindly volunteered to go up stage on their own. You're all so up in arms for something that's part of the performance, a little injury is a small price to pay for the bit."
"A 'little injury'?! I doubt they'd try cutting off their own hands for a BIT." Stressed Hyrule, in response to that, the cloaked person shrugged.
"I mean a little disarment never killed anyone."
Wild looked seconds from firing another arrow, teeth gritted and bared as Twilight sent a furious glare to the one perched atop the stage, just above the lights, ready to knock them down and crush you if needed be, "I'm pretty sure it has, actually."
"Anyway! You're all so caught up on semantics, by the Three, so uptight. Does having the splinters so far up there not sting?" they glanced at the Shadow, the obsidian and granite lizalfos glancing back at them before hissing at Time, ready to lunge, teeth stained with Director Raven's blood, "This the kind of tough crowd you have to deal with? Yeesh, no wonder you yap more than a kicked dog at times." They turn back to the Chain, clapping their hands, "In any case, let's make another deal, shall we? I'm a playwright of my word, you could leave your little friend here to become one of my actors and go on your merry way."
You swore you felt your heart stop, blood rushing in your ears, you barely caught the sharp glint of a hollow smile beneath the crow shaped mask and their next words, "Or! If you're really that attached-", they send you a bemused look, "Can't see why but hey," shrugging, they continue on, unrelenting like a hunting wolf, "You can act instead. I'll send you all into different tales and should you finish them in accordance to the script, I may let you just leave without too much of a fuss. No catches." They point to the Shadow, "Can't make any promises for that one though, it's a solo act you see, if anything I'm just lending the venue."
"And if we refuse?" Probed Time, you could see the gears turning in his head like clockwork, trying to find a way to swing this in everyone's favor so you all can get out alive.
The vulture in crow skin only smiled wider, "Then none of us gets them and you die here, I'll let the Shadow tear you apart to it's void soul's delight, and kill them on the spot." The blades press against your arms against your will, and you twitch, trying to wrestle control back and only getting pain for you troubles, muffling a yell, "Maybe put them in a soup and make jewelry out of the bones that I don't reuse in a broth, I'd look pretty dashing in a crown." They giggle, unhinged cruelty into every word as they clap their hands, voice rising to a screeching crescendo, "Oh oh! Or just roll them down a barrel filled with spikes on a hill, or make them dance and dance and dance on hot iron shoes until they drop dead! Haven't decided yet, so many choices, so little time. It's almost enough to leave me hot and bothered."
The true owner of the theater sighed, longingly hugging themselves before turning a cold, hard tone to the heroes, "You sure you want to risk that?"
#linked universe au#linked universe x reader#lu x reader#linked universe fairy tale collection#linked universe fairy tale au#linked universe theater au#?#it'll do#the chapter itself will come eventually
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Writing prompt for Quackity being sad. Just having an all around bad day. Bonus points available based on the sadness levels attained.
i tried my best 🫡 i fucking love writing c!loudduo — genuinely one of my favourite duos to write along with c!diskduo — and i think i Like this !! they might be a little out of character but HEY you can take this as like. deviation from canon or something idk ,, , i just wanted to write Themb
warnings: blood, death, murder, destruction, mentions of torture and gore, emotional distress, trauma, toxic relationship
“This has gotta be like a new low for you,” Dream muses, “I mean, like. You’re always low. But this has to be a record or something.”
Las Nevadas is in ruins. Full awareness throbs through his skull like there’s a pickaxe driven right through his brains again. Diamonds, clubs, spades, and the heart of Quackity’s country has been blown up in front of him.
Tears burn just as bad, but even they won’t give him the kindness of falling.
Instead, it’s Quackity himself that’s fallen, stopped on his hands and knees and staring numbly at the wreckage of his self-fashioned home. Las Nevadas was supposed to mean something to people. It was supposed to be loved, be lived in. The worst part of the destruction is the stone cold prickling silence that makes all his previous ambitions ring false.
Quackity is on his knees surrounded by all he’d loved, and Dream stands above him; gaunt, still, hollow from where he’d had everything carved out of him, but, somehow, still standing.
In his hand is a cigarette. Unlit. Crisp. Pristine.
And when he stoops, netherite armour clanking as he gets to his knees, he lights the cigarette with the acrid flame curling up between them from rotting wood.
(It had been a wedding venue, yesterday.)
“Look at that,” Dream says, and amusement curls his lips upwards, “I guess this place was less useless than I thought.”
Quackity’s heart pounds. Dream’s hand reaches out, pushes the cigarette into Quackity’s shaking fingers.
“Enjoy what’s left. Because when I come back, I’m going to make your last days a living hell.”
(“I’m going to make your last days in this prison a living hell,” Quackity spits at a cowering Dream, hands slick with blood and gore, “enjoy what’s left of your time until then.”)
But even when Dream gets back to his feet, he doesn’t leave. Not immediately. Instead, he steps closer, and fists his hand around Quackity’s beanie, pulls it off. Hair falls around Quackity’s face instantly, and somehow, more than his country at his knees, he feels bare. Vulnerable. Helpless.
When Dream speaks next, there’s a smile in his words.
“At least I have the decency to kill you after I’m done ruining you.”
#> c!loudduo confrontation tag#> c!loudduo#> vegas disaster#> that one clock guy#dreblr#> sparrow’s writing !!
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Stats from Movies 1101-1200
Top 10 Movies - Highest Number of Votes
Plan 9 from Outer Space (1957) had the most votes with 1,168 votes.
The Old Dark House (1963) had the least votes with 338 votes.
The 10 Most Watched Films by Percentage
Silence of the Lambs (1991) was the most watched film with 78.1% of voters out of 691 saying they had seen it.
Stalker (2022) had the least "Yes" votes with 0.4% of voters out of 471.
The 10 Least Watched Films by Percentage
Winnie the Pooh: Blood and Honey (2023) was the least watched film with 79.1% of voters out of 611 saying they hadn’t seen it.
Kraa! The Sea Monster (1998) had the least "No" votes with 6.8% of voters out of 381.
The 10 Most Known Films by Percentage
Silence of the Lambs (1991) was the best known film, 0.7% of voters out of 691 saying they’d never heard of it.
The 10 Least Known Films by Percentage
Kraa! The Sea Monster (1998) was the least known film, 91.9% of voters out of 381 saying they’d never heard of it.
The movies part of the statistic count and their polls below the cut.
Mother! (2017)
Ma (2019)
What We Do in the Shadows (2014)
Swallow (2019)
Suspiria (2018)
Nothing But Trouble (1991)
Chernobyl Diaries (2012)
Return of the Living Dead II (1988)
Pyewacket (2017)
Hellbender (2021)
Gwen (2018)
Lake of Death (2019)
Leptirica (1973)
You Are Not My Mother (2021)
Censor (2021)
You Won't Be Alone (2022)
Stalker (2022)
Berlin Syndrome (2017)
Mandrake (2022)
Raven's Hollow (2022)
Outpost (2022)
Violation (2020)
Unwelcome (2022)
Brooklyn 45 (2023)
Lovely, Dark, and Deep (2023)
They (2002)
Honeydew (2020)
Ouija: Origin of Evil (2016)
Alone (Pandemic) (2020)
Alone (2020)
Dark Was the Night (2014)
Animal (2014)
White Zombie (1932)
Venus in Furs (1969)
Umma (2022)
Renfield (2023)
Winnie-the-Pooh: Blood and Honey (2023)
The Silence of the Lambs (1991)
Earth vs. the Spider (1958)
Wicked City (1987)
The Uninvited (2008)
The House That Jack Built (2018)
Viy (1967)
The Pope's Exorcist (2023)
Winchester (2018)
The Ruins (2008)
The Old Dark House (1963)
The Shrine (2010)
The Head Hunter (2018)
Under the Skin (2013)
The Lure (2015)
The Sand (2015)
Emesis Blue (2023)
Where the Devil Roams (2023)
The Deeper You Dig (2019)
The Hatred (2017)
Tokyo Gore Police (2008)
Teddy (2020)
The Night Stalker (1972)
Wishmaster (1997)
DeepStar Six (1989)
Plan 9 from Outer Space (1957)
The Quatermass Xperiment (1955)
The Monster Club (1981)
Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein (1948)
The Tingler (1959)
Obereg (1991)
The House That Cried Murder (1973)
Scalpel (1977)
Out of Darkness (2022)
Reincarnation (2005)
Howling Village (2019)
Suicide Forest Village (2021)
The Forest (2015)
Don't Look Up (1996)
Kaidan (2007)
The Dinosaur Project (2012)
Exists (2014)
Spook Louder (1943)
Death Kappa (2010)
Red Dragon (2002)
A Bucket of Blood (1959)
Resident Evil: Apocalypse (2004)
Resident Evil: Afterlife (2010)
Kraa! The Sea Monster (1998)
Stacy: Attack of the Schoolgirl Zombies (2001)
Gingerdead Man 3: Saturday Night Cleaver (2011)
Wake Wood (2009)
The Resident (2011)
Sweet Home (1989)
The Silence (2019)
#Alive (2020)
Lord of Misrule (2023)
The Day of the Beast (1995)
Rigor Mortis (2013)
Bloody Chainsaw Girl (2016)
Freaked (1993)
Demon Seed (1977)
Raging Grace (2023)
Safe (1995)
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Quince flicked her tongue across her muzzle, trying to salvage at least a drop of blood for herself to try and judge, the salty metallic liquid knocking from inside the hollowness of her skull.
The three looked at her like she was insane (albeit she was) and Jake looked at her like she was Venus on Earth.
Small snippet on something I'm writing rn
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An It Lives Within Holiday Special: Lincoln Edition 🎁
Title: Handmade
A/N: Slowly, but surely, we’re keeping the ball rolling lol. This one was inspired by a couple of HC’s I made earlier. Enjoy 🖤🖤🖤 (LPS and @linkysmommy here’s my overdue olive branch lmaoo)
Pairing: Lincoln x MC (M!Rowan)
Summary: A bonus scene for ILW by @itlivesproject; Rowan decides to make something for Lincoln.
Warnings: minor reference to blood, language, sex
nsfw below, minors dni
---
“Fuck,” Rowan hissed out in pain. A small pool of blood began to well up where he pricked himself with the needle. Again. Over the past three hours, he injured himself at least once with every tool in front of him; some minor burns from a glue gun, a stinging cut from a utility knife, and now this.
“Maybe I should-”
“No, Connor,” he huffed, cutting him off. “ I want to do this myself.”
“I understand that, but you’re running out of fingers to cut,” he gestured towards his hands. Rowan glanced down, taking note of the several bandages that covered his skin.
“I’m almost done,” he mumbled sheepishly, picking up the needle once more to continue to sew.
“You’re really not, though. You still have to stitch the other side.”
“Oh my God,” he groaned, throwing the piece of leather onto the table. “Why is this so hard?!”
“You’re a beginner and you chose one of the hardest templates from my shop.”
Rowan rolled his eyes at him. “That was a rhetorical question, jackass.”
“Sorry,” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. His eyes flicked over to the side table. “Hand me that scrap leather over there.”
“I already told you-”
“I’m not making it for you,” Connor interrupted, “but I can’t keep watching you hurt yourself. I’m gonna show you a better a technique.” He settled into the chair next to him, grabbing his tool kit from the shelf above. “First, let’s take care of that cut. I can’t have you bleeding all over my supplies.”
“Your concern is touching,” Rowan deadpanned, holding out his finger so Connor could apply another band-aid.
---
After two botched attempts and one long walk around the cabin to calm himself down, Rowan figured out how to make a wallet. The sky had turned dark by the time he set down his tools. Holding the finished product in his hands, he admired his work. The dye he had applied left a light brown stain to the leather, its color warm with undertones of red. His finger ran along the smooth edges, checking for any bumps he needed to sand down. Finding none, he flipped it over. His eyes scanned the small mark he carved out in the lower right corner. L.M. His thumb stroked along the hollow groove of the letters. “He’s going to love it,” Connor clapped him on the back.
“You think so?”
“No doubt. This design is really popular with my customers,” he encouraged further. Rowan bit back a smile. While out on one of their dates, he had noticed how worn out his wallet was. The material was tattered, and the clasp was dangerously close to falling off completely. He originally planned on buying one online for him. Then, he remembered his roommate owned an art store.
“Thanks again, Connor. I couldn’t have done this without you.”
“I know,” he smirked. His boisterous laugh filled the room as Rowan shoved him. “It’s no trouble, really. I love this kind of stuff. When are you going to give it to him?”
“We’re going to a concert next week, so probably then.”
---
One week later, Lincoln picked him up from the cabin. Together, they rode on his motorcycle to a concert venue just outside Westchester. The drive was quiet, aside from the steady thrum of the engine. Rowan’s arms were wrapped around Lincoln’s waist, his chest flushed against his back. Normally, he loved their rides; the gust of wind that hit his face, the faint, earthy scent of Lincoln’s skin, the rush of adrenaline that flooded his veins as they weaved through traffic.
But he couldn’t enjoy any of that. Not while he was constantly imagining his gift falling onto the road. There was no way for him to physically check his pockets, so he settled for awkwardly clamping his elbows to his sides.
Once they hit a red light, Rowan’s hand flew to his waist. Relief washed through him as he felt the shape of the wallet over his jeans. “Am I driving too fast?” Lincoln asked over his shoulder.
"No, why?”
“You seem jumpy.”
“I-I’m fine,” he answered shakily.
“You sure? I can slow down,” he offered, taking one hand off the handle to squeeze his. Lincoln’s thumb ran over his knuckles. The familiar roughness of his skin settled Rowan’s nerves. He exhaled, releasing the breath he was holding.
“I’m sure.” He squeezed his hand back. That seemed to be enough to ease Lincoln’s worry.
“Alright. Just let me know if that changes.”
“Aw, look who cares about me,” he teased, a smirk tugging on his lip.
“Shut up.” Chuckling, Lincoln playfully swatted his arm. The cars ahead of them slowly started to move as the light switched to green. Rowan quickly tucked the wallet further into his pocket before adjusting his hold on Lincoln’s waist.
It only took three more stops for them to reach their destination. Rowan got a clear view of the venue as they turned into the parking lot. In the middle of a grassy field was a stage underneath a large, white tent. Their decision to leave early had paid off. The crowd was sparse, leaving them plenty of room to find a spot near the front. Hand in hand, they walked into the field, the weight of Lincoln’s gift hitting his thigh with each step. His free hand anxiously twitched toward his pocket. He wondered how Lincoln would react. Would he like the color? Was it weird to give him something like this?
“Do you want anything?” Lincoln’s voice snapped him out of his trance.
“Huh?” He’d been so lost in thought that he didn’t realize that they’d reached the front of the barricade.
Lincoln nodded at a smaller tent to their left. “They’re selling drinks over there. Want one?”
“Oh, uh- sure. Maybe in a bit,” he replied, chewing on his lip. It was now or never. “There’s something I need to do first.” Confusion marked Lincoln’s features, his brow furrowing as Rowan pulled his hand away.
“Is something wrong?”
“No!” he blurted out. “I just- I have this thing...”
Lincoln’s brows furrowed even more. “A thing? Did you forget to do something?”
“Ugh, no- that didn’t come out right,” he grumbled. Taking a quick breath, he tried again. “I have something for you.”
“What is it?”
“Close your eyes,” he instructed. Obediently, Lincoln’s eyes slipped shut. Without his gaze on him, Rowan pulled the wallet out of his pocket. He ran his thumb along the carved L.M. once. Then twice. A seed of doubt crept back into his mind. Yesterday’s pride morphed into insecurity over his work. I should’ve just bought one online. It would’ve been nicer. Who makes a wallet for someone?? He’s gonna think I’m-
"Uh- Ro? How long am I supposed to keep my eyes shut?”
“Sorry, um, keep them closed for a bit more. A-and hold your hand out for me.”
“You’re not pranking me, right?”
“No pranks, I swear. Just give me your hand.”
“Alright, I’m trusting you,” he sighed, extending his arm out. “But if it’s something gross, I will not hesitate to throw it at you.”
Rowan let out a small laugh at his threat, feeling some of the tension leave his body. “Good thing I have fast reflexes,” he quipped back.
“Rowan.”
“I’m kidding,” he reassured. Despite their friendly banter, there was still a tremble in Rowan’s hand. His fingers gripped the wallet tightly, afraid of completing the exchange. He closed his own eyes, attempting to steel his nerves. Connor’s words rang through his head. “He’s going to love it.”
He’s going to love it, Rowan repeated to himself. Before he could convince himself otherwise, he loosened his grip, letting the wallet fall out of his grasp.
“Oh,” Lincoln gasped, his eyes snapping open the instant the leather touched his skin. Rowan watched him with bated breath, trying to gauge his reaction. The murmurs of the crowd around them faded, replaced by the deafening pound of his heart. Lincoln stood motionless, his mouth slightly agape as he stared down at his gift.
Why isn’t he saying anything? Rowan chewed on his bottom lip, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. The silence between them was unbearable. Tentatively, Lincoln put his other hand over the wallet, covering it completely. Great. He hates it so much he doesn’t even want to look at it. I knew it. I should’ve just gotten the one-
“You... you made this?” Lincoln breathed out.
Rowan’s face burned from embarrassment. “Was it that obvious?” His shame prevented him for picking up on his boyfriend’s tone. Instead, he focused on counting the blades of grass around his feet. “I-it was a stupid idea,” he mumbled, unable to look at him. His fingers nervously twisted his sleeve as he continued to speak. “I just... yours looked so tattered- and Connor had extra leather, s-so I thought-” Lincoln cut off his ramblings, lifting his chin back up to his face. Before he could react, Lincoln kissed him hard.
His shoulders tensed as his mouth pressed against his. A moment passed, then he was kissing him back with fervor. A low groan rattled in Rowan’s throat as Lincoln’s fingers tangled through his hair. His own hands reached up to clutch the collar of his shirt. Their lips greedily chased each other, becoming more and more heated as they moved as one. It was the type of kiss that would’ve been more appropriate behind closed doors. But Rowan’s need for decorum disappeared in a mesh of teeth and tongue. Only when his lungs were desperate for air did they pull apart, their chests heaving. “So -hah- does this mean you like it?”
“I love it,” he rasped, the effect of their kiss still evident in his voice. Rowan’s eyes fluttered open, taking in the flush on Lincoln’s cheeks and his swollen lips. His breath hitched at the loving gaze his boyfriend directed at him. Lincoln’s fingers continued to lazily play with the hairs at the nape of his neck. “You did all this for me?”
“There’s actually more,” Rowan hinted, pulling himself out of his hold. He bit back a laugh as Lincoln eagerly flipped the wallet open. His features softened immediately when he saw what was inside.
“It’s us,” he awed.
“I found that disposable camera you were looking for and developed the film,” he explained softly. “That one was my favorite.”
“I can see why,” he murmured. There was something reverent about the way Lincoln’s fingers traced along his present. Tender, even. It was almost like he couldn’t stop. Rowan found it all endearing, even if he couldn’t figure out why Lincoln seemed so entranced. Maybe he likes the texture, he guessed. Whatever daze he was in lifted, at least long enough for Lincoln to transfer the contents of his old wallet to his new one. “I won’t be needing this anymore,” he announced cheerily, throwing his old wallet in the trash.
“I can’t believe you used that thing for so long.”
“I would’ve gotten a new one eventually. My incredibly thoughtful boyfriend just beat me to it,” he praised, leaning in to peck his cheek.
“Sounds like a great guy,” he smirked.
“Oh, he is. That, and so much more.” His sincerity left Rowan flustered. The tips of his ears felt hot.
“I’ll take that drink now,” he cleared his throat.
“Sure thing, babe,” Lincoln chuckled, grabbing his hand to walk over to the concession stand.
---
The rest of the concert was a blur. Rowan barely paid attention to the performers on stage, distracted by how openly affectionate Lincoln had gotten. He clung to him throughout the whole set, his arms firmly wrapped around his chest. From the way he nuzzled into the crook of his neck, Rowan wasn’t sure if he actually watched any of the show. But his sweet, gentle kisses felt too good for him to care. The music came second to the blissful hums Lincoln made against his skin.
His amorous mood lasted well into the night (not that Rowan was complaining). He all but begged him to stay over, claiming that he ‘accidentally’ missed the turn for Connor’s cabin. They fell onto the bed, leaving a pile of clothes forgotten on the floor. Lincoln’s fingers intertwined with his; his breath was hot and heavy against his ear. “Let me take care of you tonight.” Rowan shuddered, his skin tingling wherever Lincoln’s hands roamed, his mouth trailing right behind it. The ache between his legs grew the longer he teased him.
“Lincoln... please-”
“Tell me what you want.”
“You,” he panted, rolling his hips against his thigh. “I need you. Now.”
“I’m all yours, love.” Rowan lost himself in the euphoric feeling of their limbs tangling together. Their shared pleasure echoed throughout the room. Quiet moans gradually transformed into loud, strangled cries. Every inch of their bodies was intimately pressed against each other. It was never enough and too much all at once. Rowan’s nails dug into his back, his muscles tensing as Lincoln pounded into that spot inside him over and over. The steady thump of the headboard hitting the wall lost its rhythm as their movements turned frantic. “Oh shit- baby, I- I’m- I’m gonna-”
“Me too,” Lincoln choked out, his head dropping to his shoulder. His teeth sunk into his flesh. The sharp pain sent Rowan tumbling over the edge. Writhing beneath him, he gripped the sheets tightly as he continued to fuck him through his orgasm. “Give it to me, baby,” he groaned, wrapping his legs tighter around his waist. “Make me yours.” With that, his lover came with a shattered gasp.
“Oh- Rowan!”
---
The following morning, they went to a nearby coffee shop. As Lincoln ordered their drinks, Rowan observed the soft smile that appeared on his face when he pulled out his new wallet. The way his hand lingered in his pocket for longer than necessary as he tucked it back in also didn’t go unnoticed. His actions puzzled him. Did he really like the material that much? He recalled how instantaneous his reaction was when he first received it, which raised another thought in his mind. “Babe, I have a question.”
“Shoot.” Lincoln set down his mug, giving him his full attention.
“Yesterday, when I gave you your present... How’d you know that I made it?”
A knowing grin spread on his lips, which he hid as he lifted his mug back up to his mouth. “Lucky guess,” he answered simply. Rowan knew him well enough to recognize that he wasn’t telling him the whole truth. But he decided to let it go for now.
“Alright, just wondering.”
---
Lincoln McQuoid: “Basically, I can sense things that have been touched by the power. Monsters, artifacts, people... I can see impressions and feel emotions, but the more disconnected from the Power something is and the more disconnected emotionally I am from it, the vaguer the impressions will be.”
#playchoices#choices#lincoln mcquoid#lincoln x mc#ilw#ilw fic#it lives within#it lives in the woods#it lives beneath#connor green#ilb#ilitw#my fic#the fluff fic that is owed#and deserved#lps- here is your olive branch lmaoo#it lives series#it lives project#it lives anthology#n*fw#nsft
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Krowmeat's Punk Band List What Is A Personal Project Of Mine
Hi! I'm trying to find more punk bands that I like and are near me, so I've been doing Bandcamp Page Sleuthing. Turns out there's a fucking ton to sift through so I'm making a public list I can kind of just edit and update whenever I find a new one or start listening to one more. I found most of these by looking at the events posted by Vancouver Punk Calendar or Squamish Punk Night, and random venues on Instagram. I tried to put an asterisk of bands that aren't from BC, the formatting is a little fucked but there's still time to fix it
SORTED
Like these a lot you may wanna know about them
Headcheese, Imploders*, Money (With an umlaut so you know it's cool)*, Joey Only Outlaw Band, Blacked Out, Terminal City Rats, Kitty Prozac,
Bands that are good but only have a few songs out on bandcamp
Math Bat, Sundiver, Crosshairs, Zero Bars*,
I like these a normal amount
Contra Code, Breech Boys, Alien Boys,
Bands that did not interest me but might you
WAIT//LESS, Disposal (With an umlaut so you know it's cool), Voltage, After The Fox, ATD, Mediaslaves
Good bands that are already pretty well-known so I'm de-prioritizing them but if you're a third party that's curious about what I'm into I guess look at 'em
Screeching Weasel, Dead Kennedys, Crass, Against Me!, AJJ, The Taxpayers
UNSORTED
Really good at first glance, have not listened to them enough to form an opinion
BEEF*, The Orphans,*
Assorted bands, have not listened to a lotta them yet but they piqued my interest at some point so they're on the List to look at in more detail later. These might be bad idk yet
Burning Love, Chronic Fatigue, Glowing Orb*, Dead End Drive-In, BOSSES, TOTAL DOOM,* Elephant Amnesia,* Punitive Damage, Nyrkkitappelu,*,Crippled Fox,* SLANT*, Tyvek,* Chain Whip, MattstaGraham,* Blood Ties, Smuther, Trenchraid, Knox, Noose Sweat, Blimp, Hollow Point, Mediated Form, SSIK, G.L.O.S.S.,* BUGGY,* Window Smashing Job Creators,* Antibodies,* Grawlix, RadDog
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