Oh. I Was Wondering Where Your Works Went & I Spent Ages Looking For Them 😬 Love That You’re Back

Fallout: New Vegas Scenery [2/?]

Billy Russo has done nothing wrong, ever, in his entire life.

Fear of the Dark

A Monsters in the Dark Drabble.

Nightmares, PTSD, kissing, a bit of dacryphilia, mentions of Billy’s bad childhood, fem!reader.

@idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11 @rosaleenablack

Billy woke up to sniffling by the door to his bedroom, he paused wondering if he brought someone home and didn't remember, but then he realized you occupied the penthouse now, taking you in for Curtis, you’d had no place to go.

“Mr. Russo?” You asked, voice watery. “Can I sleep with you? Don’t like the dark, don’t like being alone. I’ll be good, I promise.” Your voice shook as you clung to the doorframe.

“C’mon, baby.” Billy said, patting the bed, unable to resist your tearful voice.

It excited him.

You crawled in, curling in a ball, your whole body shaking. He wondered what haunted your nightmares. He pulled you against him, stroking your hair and trying to soothe your tremors, as he hushed you softly, his lips brushing yours.

You shuddered, pressing closer, returning his affection. You were hungry for it.

You reminded him of a small mouse, looking for safety in a deadly panther.

God, it took him back. His fingers moved to your hips, digging into your flesh, and you sighed shakily, clutching his own hips.

“Where’s my mom?” Billy remembered crying to the firemen at the station, his lips had trembled, his chest had heaved. He remembered he couldn’t breathe because of his sobbing.

Why had she left him there? When was she coming back? He wondered if he had been bad.

It was an unfamiliar place, and he just wanted to go home.

“Your ma ain’t comin’ back, son.” The man had told Billy, who had sunk into hopelessness with no comfort in sight.

Billy stroked your hips, thumbs rubbing back and forth. Your crying slowed down, and you clutched his shirt in your hands, lips only trembling off and on now.

Billy was struck with the idea he was needed. He wanted to chase away your demons, to hurt anyone who had hurt you.

Mine, he thought, surprising himself.

Your eyes fluttered, tears clinging to your lashes, cheek pressed to his chest. Your body shuddered one last time before you slept soundly.

His heart ached.

God, attachments were a weakness but the feeling of being needed was addictive, and that was a very dangerous thing.

Billy groaned inwardly, fingers digging into your flesh, nose skimming your hair. He wanted you in his bed more than he should, wanted to spread you out on his sheets and devour you, hear your sweet sighs and moans while he ruined you. To settle between your thighs, and split you open on his cock.

The last thing he remembered was your soft breathing, and your body slotted perfectly against his.

It brought him more comfort than he wanted to admit.

Comfort that hadn’t been in his life since childhood.

Play

A Drabble set in the Monsters in the Dark universe.

—dark themes, abandonment, abuse (mentioned), sexual abuse (mentioned), kissing, fluff mixed with angst, fem!reader—

@idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11 @rosaleenablack

It was when the nights were quiet, and neither of you could sleep that Billy played for you.

His fingers skillfully flew across the keys, while you sat next to him, cheek pressed into his shoulder, eyes closed as you listened to him play.

It wasn’t something he shared with many—the hardened Marine, a virtuoso.

“It was my escape in the group home, music.” Billy had told you, laying in bed one evening after you’d caught him playing.

His fingers had laced with yours as he spoke; “Especially after Arthur. Didn’t want to think, so my teacher got me set up with classes. I guess I was bein’ a troublemaker. Actin’ out.” He recalled, voice low.

Then, one night you hadn’t been able to sleep, and neither could Billy. You asked him to play for you, “Please, Billy? You sound so good.”

“Sure, baby.” He’d said, and you’d both traipsed into his living room to play.

Billy wanted you to play with him, but he knew the trauma your father had caused, and didn’t push it.

“My dad was always harsh on me when I missed a note.” You whispered one evening. “It started so many fights between my mom and him. He swore I was coming between them. Mom said she’d always choose me.” It was the most you’d spoken on the subject.

Billy felt the same way as your mom did. He’d choose you every time, too.

There was a pause, and you said in a small voice; “My dad didn’t want me. I was just a disappointment to him.” You mumbled.

Billy stopped playing, looking over at you; “Did you ever think he was just trying to justify his shitty actions because of guilt?” He knew a little of your father, who had been physically and emotionally abusive. You had talked a little about it.

It always made Billy silently rage, the things your father did to you.

But otherwise you rarely spoke of it.

You chewed your lip, “Maybe.”

“I think it’s more than maybe.” Billy said, tapping your nose. “You were a kid. None of it could have been your fault, especially not him hurtin’ you.”

“But maybe if I was better, a good girl—“ you began, but Billy grabbed your face making you look at him.

“Baby, it wasn’t your responsibility to be better for him, it was his responsibility to be better for you.” He kissed your mouth, lingering. His fingers tangled in your hair, letting you cling to him.

“Wanna hold onto Billy forever. So you can never leave me.” You said, gripping his hand.

Billy kissed you, he wanted you to hold onto him. His own abandonment issues lingered. “I’m not goin’ anywhere, baby.”

You shivered pleasantly. His words brought you comfort. His hard kiss soothed the hurt in your heart, as you clung into him.

Sometimes you wanted to climb inside his heart, and stay there warm and safe, where nothing could touch you.

His heart was your safe haven.

Maybe yours could be his.

You cannot make everyone think and feel as deeply as you do. This is your tragedy … because you understand them, and they do not understand you.

Daniel Saint

I miss the old Tumblr, too. We used share ideas, and scream at each other in the comments about what we liked about a fic, people did fan art for fanfics, we supported each other. Now it’s just empty likes, or people only talk to the followers who are in their circle. And there’s so much ai theft going on that it makes writers reluctant to share their stuff. 😔

I keep refreshing the tag but there are no new fics...

I miss the old tumblr

Where you could barely keep up with the amount of new fics, they just kept coming, dozens per tag a day...

I miss the old tumblr

Where ppl reblogged with reactions and there were fics circling around on my dash too that I might have missed in the tags

I miss the old tumblr

And I miss so many of the fic writers that left since

“She reaches for him with a tendril of shadow…. He holds his hand out in welcome.”

How wonderful it must be to find that other half, that equal who welcomes you home no matter that pain that exists between you.

I absolutely loved this. It was beautifully crafted, Robin. 💜

Dawn Greeting Dusk Falling

A reimagining of the events after ‘Siege and Storm’ and a coping mechanism for the SaB S2 ending we would rather not have…

She had kept a little of his shadow, he enough of her light. This is what made it possible, this meeting at the roiling edge of the Fold where Alina knew she would one day find herself.

Fifty years did he say? She knew it had been more, and still it surprised her as the seasons dragged on that love had endured — the love of so many, and the love of one above all. Even if she had to watch each one shrouded and laid in the ground. Each and every one.

What she means to do here now is neither a reckoning, nor a reconciliation. The moment is simply right. She looks into the shadows, and lifts her hand. The globe of light is muted, as though in a fog; but she knows he will not fail to see it.

“Alina.”

There is no rage in the way he says her name, not even a question. They are past that, she supposes.

One who was too young, and one who lived too long; they were here now, nearly unchanged but for her white hair worn unbound. He did not expect her to come sooner, he knew time well enough. He might have thought he knew her as well.

She did not destroy the Fold.

Thought dead after the collapse of the Chapel, legend had it that her spirit guided skiffs as they made each journey. For not a soul has been lost to the Fold since.

That was how she knew that he wasn’t lost. And the knowledge, when she realized it, caused her that day to weep with joy.

The two of them lived because they could not let the other die; when his humanity was burning away, she held on blindly to what remained and he … she could not name what he did, but in the end she knew he had kept her from falling into darkness.

He had kept — some essence, some hope? Light either way.

And a resolve not to lose her to the void.

What was left of him that day was drawn to the Fold, the only place where he could still exist.

A shadow among shadows.

“You might have left me with a fresh set of clothes. An eternity disheveled is its own unique torture.”

She startles with laughter, the unexpected joy at the even more unexpected attempt at humor freeing the tension in her shoulders. She lets herself smile at him, and his smile is genuine as he smiles back.

“Are you angry?” she asks.

“What is anger for?” is his reply.

Flame sputtering to life in sunlight has more purpose.

A silence heavy as the weight of loss they now share settles between them.

“I could not bear it if you turned from me now.”

He spoke the truth. It was the same truth she would always understand, no matter the centuries left to them, no matter their choices that will always hang in the balance.

She reaches for him with a tendril of shadow.

He holds out his hand in welcome.

————-

A/N: For my AU sister @becauseicantthinkwritings who has been putting up with my not-fun era for longer than she should 😅

Oh shit, this is them! 🥺 💕 I love this dynamic though. I’m such a slut for it. 😂 it makes me so happy you thought of them, though. 💜

thinking about the dynamic between the self-made cynic and the bleeding heart

Low Energy/Effort Witchcraft

Are you perpetually busy? Never have any spoons? This might be the post for you. Note that not everything here may be considered low energy or low effort to everyone, and that's okay :)

Carry a crystal around based on what you need. I have a black tourmaline bracelet that absorbs negative vibes throughout the day. I stick it on a selenite slab when I get home to cleanse overnight, then rinse and repeat in the morning.

Put a bay leaf in your wallet to attract money. If you have time, draw a sigil or a $/£/€ on it.

Dedicate anything you drink to your deities if you have any. I dedicate water and black tea to everyone and my favourite raspberry tea to Hathor. Coffee is for Caim.

Enchant your pill case so you remember to take them on time. Enchant your pills to work efficiently. ("Anxiety begone. Ye be banished" on all of my anxiety pills ✌️)

Draw a sigil on your body wash bottle to remove bad vibes or carve a sigil in a bar of soap.

Enchant your moisturizer to repel the evil eye. I fucking love this one.

Incorporate colour magic into the socks you wear (Goths who wear hot pink socks, I'm looking at you).

Enchant your charger so it doesn't break and so you don't lose it. Enchant your phone too while you're at it.

Sorry, I love enchantments--

Uhhhhh

Match those big ol jar candles to different intentions. Burn a cedar candle to cleanse/banish. Burn a cinnamon candle to draw in prosperity. Burn a citrus candle to uplift mood. This one is fantastic for broom closet witches.

Got a humidifier? Fill it up with moon water. You're welcome ;D

Politely ask the spirits of your plants to ward your space. Feed two birds with one scone this way.

Witchy social media. Scrolling on Tumblr and learning something new about witchcraft counts as witchcraft imo. Saving tarot spreads from Instagram for later counts too. Making Pinterest boards for literally anything also counts.

Keep a digital grimoire if doing it on paper costs too many spoons. I have used Google docs & drive in the past but I currently use Notion (You can copy and paste this way!)

If you still want a physical grimoire, print your stuff out and stick it in a binder or glue it in your journal. Boom. Physical grimoire

Listen to witchcraft related videos in the background while you do other tasks or chores in your home

Preparing a meal? Toss in spices that correspond with good health and drawing in positivity, or any other intention you have

Enchant your glasses to help you focus and "read between the lines" or see what wants to remain hidden (this one is a lifesaver at my job)