#&&verse: stare into the void until the void stares back

[sylviareviar]

"..."

"..."

"..."

"Sorry, what just happened? I blacked out."

[melyxssa]

Fill the Void

Description: 1991, during the recordings of the Black Album, you help your boyfriend James to come up with something more intriguing.

(inspired by the series “the idol”)

warnings: smut, fingering, oral sex (f receiving)

“You're the one, you're the only one

Baby girl, we could both have fun

Oh, I choose you to fill your void, yeah”

-“Fill the Void”, by The Weeknd & Lily Rose Depp

The time seemed to be frozen inside that recording room, where the entire band felt impossible to compose new riffs and write new lyrics for the upcoming album.

Hours have passed, and for some reason, James couldn't get into the lyrics of one of the songs, he didn't feel it as his own.

"You seem a little stuck on the outro", says Lars from the console, right outside the noise proof studio where James was trying to record the vocals, after working on it endlessly.

James sighs heavily, running a hand through his blonde hair. He squints his blue eyes as he looks over at Lars, his expression a mix of frustration and annoyance.

"Nah man, it's not just the fuckin' outro. I'm just not feelin' it, y'know?", James replies gruffly, his voice rough from repeatedly trying to nail his verse.

“I gotta figure this shit out, it’s been hours already, we gotta finish this fucking song.”, he says in frustration, rubbing his face with his hands, stretching his tall frame. The handlebar mustache and overgrown goatee twitch as he clenches his jaw.

"Maybe we just need to take a break for a bit. Clear our fuckin' heads."

James exits the recording room, opening the door loudly, grabbing a beer from the nearby cooler, cracking it open and taking a long swig. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, burping softly.

"This song's got me fucked up, man. I can't seem to find the right... vibe, ya feel me?" He says, gesturing vaguely with the beer can.

James paces around the small recording space, his boots thudding against the floor. He knows they need to get this album done, but he refuses to put out something that doesn't feel authentic.

"I just need to get outta the fuck outta this room for a bit." He mutters, more to himself than towards Lars.

James takes another long pull from the beer, feeling the cool liquid slide down his throat. He knows they'll get there, eventually. But for now, he just needs a break.

Even more time passes by, he spent hours trying and trying his vocal part, for what seemed a thousands times. There was nothing to do, James couldn't feel the song, the lyrics that he wrote himself didn’t feel like they were his, something was missing.

Now, 11pm, with hands in his hair and frustration in his eye, James fucked up the outro of the song once again, making Lars and the producers sight heavily.

"Look man, it's really late now, maybe you have to rest. You tried this shit for the whole day now...", Lars spoke through the microphone from outside the room where James was standing.

James clenches his fists, his face turning red with frustration. He wants to scream, to punch something and let out his frustration. James knows Lars is right, it is late, and he has been stuck at this point for way too long. But the perfectionist in him can't let it go, not until he gets it just right.

"Fuck!", James shouts, his voice echoing off the soundproof walls, glitching the audio of the microphone connected to the one that Lars was speaking with.

He starts pacing again, his boots now stomping loudly on the studio floor. "I can't fuckin' rest until I get this straight, ya hear me? We can't put out some lame bullshit!"

He leans against the wall, his head falling back as he stares at the ceiling. The fluorescent lights flicker slightly, casting a harsh glow on his angular face. James runs a hand over his short, mutton chops, tugging at the hair.

“James, it’s too late now, and it’s a Saturday. Kirk and Jason are already gone, and half of the crew too. You just have to try again on Monday”.

With a heavy sigh, he speaks into the microphone, his voice low and gritty.

"Alright, alright... fuck. I hear ya, Lars. But this shit's just not... it's not workin' for me, man."

James nods, removing his headphones and closing his audio, while all of the others in the building left for the night, except for him, who decided to stay there trying to fix the lyrics, some riffs and sing again on his own.

There was nothing left to do anymore, the outro was all fucked up, he seriously needed a break.

He stared at the phone on the wall for a few seconds holding his face with his hand.

He needed her. He needed his biggest inspiration to be there with him, the one from which all of his songs come alive.

With a quick and heavy movement, he jumped up from the couch and reached the phone. While the beeping sound was pending, he looked at the clock: 12:30am.

“Please, answer me”, he thought in his mind.

“Hello?”

A quiet almost sleepy voice answers from the other side of the phone.

"Hey, babe... Did I wake ya?" James asks, his voice now a low, gentle rumble. He tries to keep the frustration and exhaustion out of his tone, not wanting to worry her.

He starts pacing again, but this time his strides are slower, more measured. The sound of her breathing on the other end of the line is oddly soothing, a balm to his frayed nerves.

“Not at all, I fell asleep on the couch actually”, Y/N answers in a sweet calming tone. “It’s everything okay there?”

She asks now fixing herself and sitting up, so that she could talk to him better.

"I'm just... I'm havin' a tough time here with this fuckin' song, ya know? I can't get it right, and it's just... it's drivin' me nuts." He confesses, his free hand running through his hair again.

James pauses, listening to her soft murmur of sympathy. He closes his eyes, letting the sound of her voice wash over him, calming him down.

“I’m sorry to hear that… I thought you already fixed that. It’s been days by now”, she continues, making James let out another sigh.

“I didn’t... I need you here Y/N, right now…” he says firmly.

“You want me there? Oh James, it’s so late now, I-“

Y/N got interrupted by his helpless voice.

“Please…”

—Y/N’s POV—

I stay silent again, checking the clock, it’s almost 1am.

I couldn’t say no, I feel like he’s having a rough time with this song, and I want to help him.

“Yeah, all right then. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” I hang up the phone and started collecting some clothes to wear and get to him as soon as i could.

My hair is still a mess, and I soon realized once I stepped out of the house that wearing a skirt and a top wasn’t the best idea ever, due to the California’s cold night breeze, but my sleepy senses’ve been stronger then my actions at this night time.

As I arrive at the studio, the door was strangely open, someone who left the studio must’ve thought that James was supposed to do the same right after, but of course, he didn’t.

I walk through the hallway of the studio arriving at the recording room, spotting James looking up at me, his blue piercing eyes meeting mine.

The room is dimly lit, shadows dancing across his angular face. He's sitting in the recording booth, a guitar resting on his lap, a half-empty beer can on the floor beside him.

The moment he sees me, James' expression softens instantly. The frustration and exhaustion that were etched into his features a moment before quickly melt away, replaced by a gentle, almost reverent look. He stands up slowly, the chair creaking softly behind him.

James walks towards me, his tall frame unfolding with a grace that belies his rough exterior. He stops just at the edge of the open door, looking down at me with an intensity that makes my heart skip a beat.

"Hey, babe", he says softly, his low and intimate voice echoing in the quiet of the studio.

"I'm glad you're here. I needed this, I… needed you", he says in my ear, tying his big arm around my waist before he reaches out his rough, calloused hand cupping my cheek. His thumb brushes gently over my skin, a tenderness that sends a shiver down my spine. James leans in closer, his breath hot on my face, faintly smelling of beer and smoke.

Suddenly, he pulls back, running a hand through his hair in a gesture of frustration. "I'm just... I'm fuckin' stuck, and I can't figure out why.” He lets out an irritated sigh.

I’ll actually go mad if I can’t get this right. And… I thought... maybe you could help me, maybe give me a new perspective."

I move towards the console in front of the recording booth, grabbing the paper sheet with the ink-written lyrics.

"I don't know James, you know I'm not really good at this.

My nervous voice is trembling, I wanna help with all of my heart.

"Sing with me then”, he says with an amused smirk on his face.

“Yeah sure.” I laugh nervously, my cheeks burn.

He raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips as he listens to my nervous tone. He leans back against the console. The amused glint in his blue eyes softens as he realizes my hesitation.

James always catches me sing under the shower or while I do my makeup, and he always insists that my voice is perfect.

He takes a step closer to me, closing the distance between our bodies. His tall frame towers over me, but his presence is no longer intimidating. Instead, it's comforting, warm. He reaches out, his rough fingers gently tilting my chin up to meet his gaze.

"Babe, c'mon. You know your voice is fuckin' perfect. I've heard you sing around the house before, ya’ know? Under the shower... it's so beautiful." His thumb brushing over my lower lip.

"I wanna hear you sing with me, feel the music together."

He grabs my hand and leads me in the recording booth in front of the microphone, he looks around for a pair of headphones, before putting them on my head.

He sings the first part of the song, his voice low and rough, sensual, filled with a raw emotion that sends a shiver down my spine.

The lyrics are intense, it reminds me of us in some ways. Maybe that’s why he needed me here.

But as he sings, his gaze never leaves mine, connecting with me on a deeper level.

He moves away from the microphone leaving me more space now.

“Just follow the rhythm , okay? Let the music guide you, feel it in your bones.

Don't overthink it, just… be with me in this moment."

I nod nervously, helping him with one of his songs is a big responsibility. He quickly exits the booth to press the recording button on the outside console, playing the base in the headphones, before coming back next to me.

"Come on, babe. Sing with me", he says, his voice is gentle almost a whisper against my skin, he positions himself behind me holding my shoulders first.

"Let's make something beautiful together, something real and true. Just like us."

I start singing the lyrics reading it, feeling James hands on my arms and then falling down on my waist, rubbing my hips right after, his breath on my neck while he rests his chin on my shoulder, closing his eyes, now feeling the song. I gasp in the microphone at his touch feeling his hands.

James starts to sing along with me, his voice a low, sensual growl that vibrates through my body. He holds me closer, one hand sliding up my side to cup the side of my breast, his thumb brushing over the fabric of my shirt, pressing his hips against my back, making me feel what this moment was doing to him.

Lost in the moment, James lets the music consume him. He sings with a fervor he hasn't felt in a long time, the frustration of earlier finally melting away. With each word, each note, he feels a sense of release, he was getting it right.

James' hands drift lower, playing with the waistband of my skirt, his calloused fingers brushing down the bare skin of my thighs. He leans in and presses his lips against my neck, his mustache tickles my skin as he starts to place soft kisses along the column of my throat.

He takes his time, savoring my taste, the way I shiver and gasp at his touch. James' hand slides higher between my legs, pushing my skirt up as he goes, his palm kneading the soft flesh of my inner thigh. His kisses turn more insistent, more demanding, as he feels my body responding to his touch.

He gently touches my panties’ lace fabric making my mouth leave a soft moan while his teeth grazing my skin before he soothes the sting with his tongue.

James' other hand slides up my side again, under my shirt, to finally reach my perky breast. He squeezes it gently, his thumb brushing over my sensitive nipple, feeling it harden under his touch.

Lost in a haze of sensation, James continues to sing, his voice low and rough with desire. The lyrics take on a new meaning, a new intensity as he holds me close, his hardening body pressed against me.

He wants me, needs me, in a way that consumes him entirely. And as the song reaches its crescendo, James pours all of that need, all of that desire, into his kiss and touch.

His fingers slides underneath the lace of my underwear, feeling my heat. He swallows hard, his heart pounding in his chest as he hears your moan echoing through the studio, now recorded in the lyrics.

Slowly, he starts to move his fingers again, sliding them over my sensitive and humid flesh. His touch is gentle at first, teasing, exploring. He wants to learn every inch, to hear every gasp and every moan tie with the words he wrote.

As he feels my wetness, James can't hold back a low groan, his breath hot against my neck.

I moan again letting my head fall back on his shoulder, heavily breathing.

“James…”, I whisper, my eyes rolled at the back of my head, biting my lip.

He smirks as he keeps kissing the thin skin of my neck. “Keep singing”, he says starting to rub slow circles over my clit, his touch firm and deliberate.

At the same time, he starts to rock his hips against my ass, grinding his hardening cock against me, throbbing through his jeans.

I keep singing moaning at every pause, at every words, harder, when I feel James fingers pump in and out of me.

He groans deeply in my ear as he feels my tight, wet heat enveloping his fingers. His movements speed up gradually, his thumb still rubbing firm circles over my clit. The sounds of my moans and the wet, slick noises of his fingers moving inside me fill the recording booth.

He grinds harder against my ass, his cock is now stone hard and it’s straining against the layers of clothes blocking its freedom. James' breathing grows heavier, his chest heaving against my back as he loses himself in pleasuring me.

“Keep singing for me babe, I wanna hear you”, he says in a growl, before leaving a last kiss on my neck.

During the instrumental part of the song, James moves away and stands in front of me, and suddenly drops to his knees behind me, his hands gripping my hips tightly, letting me arch my back, spreading my legs. He looks up at me with lust-filled eyes, his gaze intense and hungry. Without saying a word, he hooks his fingers into the waistband of my underwear, yanking them down my legs in one swift motion.

As my panties fall to the floor of the recording room, James leans in, burying his face between my thighs, making me moan as I hold tight onto microphone in front of me.

“Don’t stop, I wanna hear your voice while I do this to you.” His voice vibrating against my sensitive flesh.

He starts to lick and suck my clit, while his hands grip my ass, spreading my cheeks apart as he delves deeper, his tongue plunging into my core. James eats me out with a fervor he's never shown before, a desperation that borders on primal. James is determined to make me cum just before the song ends, thanks of the feeling of his tongue and fingers bringing me to the pinnacle of pleasure.

I tangle my fingers in his blonde hair, pulling him closer as I moan louder and desperately.

He can sense my impending orgasm, the way my body starts to tremble and quake against his touch.

He doubles his efforts, his tongue and fingers moving faster, harder, more insistently. He wants to feel me come undone, wants to taste my release on his tongue.

"That's it, babe... Come for me.” James growls against my pussy, the vibrations of his voice against my cunt is sending me closer and closer to the edge.

And then, with a scream of his name, my body convulses, my pussy clenching and fluttering around his fingers as my orgasm crashes over me. James moans deeply as he feels my hot, slick essence on his mouth, coating his chin, as his strong hands grip firmly my ass.

He works me through my climax, his fingers and tongue never stopping their sensual assault until the last aftershock has passed.

Finally, he pulls back up, looking up at me with a smug, satisfied grin, as the base in the headphones that eventually fell off my head starts to fade away. I am speechless, this is what he meant when he said he didn’t feel the song…

He moves closer, kissing me, smacking again my ass, surely leaving his red hands prints, his tongue delivers inside my mouth tasting mine. “You’ve been perfect”, he says as he breaks the wet contact.

“Well I almost didn’t sing at all, James” I say breathless, my cheeks burn for the excitement, and sweat drips down my body.

“And that was exactly what I wanted, with the guitar solo at the end it’ll be perfect”, he says holding my hips firmly.

“James, are you sure? I mean… what about the others? It’s not your usual kind of song, I mean…” I quickly say after being interrupted by James’ hands pulling me closer again against his still hard crotch and his lips kissing me passionately. He moves an inch away from my lips, looking deeply into my exhausted eyes.

“It’s perfect Y/N, the guys will love it… I want this in the album, I want you in this song.”

hiii! if you have any requests lemme know xx

-mel

[maybeitsapineapple]

Notes on the Les Misérables Proshot, Act 2

20th November 1985

RSC Archives at the Shakespeare Birthplace Trust Reading Room

Lyrics are compared to the audio I've heard from previews, which I'm pretty sure is on yt

I don't recall the original staging very well (or the current one, for that matter) so some of the staging I pointed out might be unnecessary

I assume the audience were told not to clap

There were typos everywhere in the prompt book

Act 1 here

Other notes here

Detailed thoughts under cut

I’m pretty sure I held in my hands the actual piece of paper upon which Trevor Nunn wrote the draft lyrics to "On My Own", originally titled "I Love Him" — "On my own/I feel him there beside me/On my own/I feel his arms around me/All alone I walk with him till morning/And when I lose my way I close my eyes and he has found me/In the rain the pavement shines like silver/All the lights are on the river/In the dark the trees are full of starlight/And there he makes a promise we will stay in love forever/And I know it's only in my mind/And I’m talking to myself and not to him/And although I know that he is blind/Still I say there’s a way for us/I love him/But when the night is over/He is gone/The trees are black and empty/And the river is sad and grey and lonely/And I am on my own until the darkness comes again/I love him. I love him. I love him/But always on my own"

After Eponine dies Michael Ball cries on the floor through the whole Drink With Me instrumental

After "A spy who calls himself Javert" Colm Wilkinson stares at Roger Allam until the attack begins

CW does not take RA outside the café

RA rolls the 'r' in "Take your revenge" (I think he rolled some others too but I didn’t write them down)

CW kneels behind RA to cut the ropes then tugs him up by the arm for "Clear out of here"

RA once again pointing at himself for "You’ll still answer to Javert"

At "If I come out of this alive" CW pushes the gun against the side of RA’s neck to move him. RA retreats so his back is against the café wall/barricade, and CW goes right up close to him and also keeps poking him with his, er, gun

In "Drink With Me’, before Marius comes in, the prompt book has a cut Valjean verse — "There's the thief who steals Cosette/Plucks the flow’r/Before it’s grown/If he dies she’ll grieve all her life/If he lives she’ll leave/And live as his wife/Leaving me once more alone"

Draft lyrics for "Bring Him Home". Alternative lines were written side by side; I’ve put them in brackets — "God on high/Hear my prayer/Give him rest (in my need)/Let him sleep Heaven blessed (you have always been there)/He is young/He’s afraid/Keep him safe (Give him rest)/Keep him near (Heaven blessed)/Bring him home. Bring him home. Bring him home/He’s like the son(g) I might have known/If God had granted me a son(g) (If You had granted me a son)/[The rest of the lyrics are the same as the official version]

You remember I said there was no clapping? Except there was a brief burst of applause after "Bring Him Home" lol

"Until the Earth is *screech*"

When Javert is checking the bodies for Valjean, RA is paused for a moment at the top of the barricade in a spotlight Enjolras-style, and then jumps down. IDK it was giving parallels or foils or foreshadowing or smith. Symbolism. YKWIM

"Dog Eats Dog" was longer in the prompt book

Longer instrumental after "Dog Eats Dog" including the original "Valjean’s Confession" tune played on … synth? Trumpet? Plus a lower brass instrument like the horn or something?

RA puts his hand against his head when he says "Well take him I’ll be waiting at the door/I’ve never known a man like you before/A man such as you"

RA momentarily blocks CW’s path and stands very close to him

RA struggled on "reprieved"

The bridge is on the ground. RA climbs over at "And does he know". Leans all the way forwards at "Even so". Looks back up at "stars". Stands up straight at "stare into the void". He says "There is nowhere I can go" where the prompt book says "nowhere I can turn" so IDK if he just made a mistake there. He falls with his arms up; the bridge rises; there is a whirlpool effect on the floor from the lighting

"Empty Chairs At Empty Tables" is delivered sitting down

The prompt book has different lines for the last verse — "Like the headstones of the fallen/Casting shadows on the floor/Empty chairs at empty tables/Where my friends will sing no more"

MB collapses into Rebecca Caine’s arms/lap at "Dear Mademoiselle"

[swiss-mrs]

#WEIRD☆GIRL

(Word Count: 4.6k)

Rating: PG-13, Adult Language and Themes, All Characters are 18+

Reader/OC Description: Reader/OC is Afro-Latina. She has long, dyed black hair that is worn straight with baby bangs and shaved brows. She is an alt baddie and would've definitely ruled MySpace. Body shape/type is not detailed. No Use of Y/N.

Playlist

Synopsis: One day, while Dave and Todd are out, they pass by a park void of screaming kids. Instead, the park is taken up by a group of what looks to be a mix of teenagers and young adults. Passing by the loud group, the boys can't help but stare, mixing Dave up with a girl more socially unacceptable than him.

Warnings(?): Adult Language, Sexual Themes (No Smut, Just Horny Boy Thoughts), Catcalling (Potentially Triggering Language)

This is written in third person but mainly narrated from Dave's view.

》》》

"I can't believe they had it!" Todd exclaims, gripping the plastic bag in his hand tight. Dave nods, gripping his backpack straps.

"Yeah, we need to start coming here more often. They have everything. We gotta bring Marty with us when he gets back."

Today marked the first day of the boys' last Spring Break. Marty was out of town on a trip to Florida with his family, so this cut down the trio to a duo, Dave and Todd. The two were currently walking along a street on the other side of town than their usual hangout. Todd found a new comic and video game store, and he and Dave figured they'd check it out.

"I can't wait to read it."

"Remember, no spoilers until I pick up my edition too." Dave replied. As they round a corner to get to their bus stop, they are greeted with the sight of a large clearing between buildings.

On the closest side to the boys was a skate park. It had a decent amount of skaters occupying it, echoes of skateboards landing against concrete traveling throughout the park. As the boys walked passed, they could hear the sound of music. The further they walk, the closer the music gets.

The current song that was playing was what Dave imagined rugged bikers with dark sunglasses and handlebar mustaches listened to. Scary and intimidating. It was muddy and grungy and punk and metal? He wasn't well versed enough to really know how to label its genre. Just as one song came to an end, another just like it followed.

He and Todd were both staring at the group surrounding the picnic table that held the speaker. Each one was different from the next, but they all had a similar dark and grungy style.

Something that immediately caught his eye was a black haired girl who took two big steps to get atop the picnic table. As the new song began to pick up, she got into a matching character. As she winded her hips and lip sang to the lyrics, Dave was completely entranced by her. "Woah..."

"Yeah…" Todd absently replies.

Her unnaturally dark hair cascaded down her shoulders and around the curve of her breasts. Her bangs reminded Dave of a toddler who decided to experiment with scissors. They were far too short to be considered "normal", but, Jesus, did she pull them off well.

She had two bows on the sides of her head, one purple and the other an off-white cream color. She wore a black, short sleeve crop top with red writing on it, something Dave couldn't really read clearly from this distance. She had knitted, fingerless gloves on each hand that nearly blended in with her skin tone. Dave's eyes continued to work their way down her legs, finding her thighs covered with light pink, sheer lace shorts that stopped mid thigh. The only thing keeping her "appropriate" were homemade, cut-off jean short shorts.

Dave couldn't help himself; he was captivated. He's never seen anyone dressed like she was, at least not in real life. It was like she stepped right out of an anime. She was incredibly unique. How was she able to pull that off so well?

Dave's eyes wandered down further to get a full view of her exposed, dancing legs. He couldn't help but wonder what it felt like to touch them.

She swiveled her hips in circles as she began to spin and whip her hair to the beat. Dave had this opportunity to move his eyes up, getting a perfect view of her butt, his body lighting up as his heart raced.

She had made a full turn, stopping in the direction of the two boys, catching their stares. Todd immediately turns his head to try and seem captivated by the clouds above, but Dave is not as quick to notice.

"Dave." Todd mumbles, eyes dodging the girl's gaze, darting back and forth from his friend, the ground, and a very (not-so) interesting brick building behind the park. "Dave." Todd repeats, elbowing Dave in the side, finally snapping him out of his hypnosis.

"Ouch!" Dave yelps in surprise, turning to Todd who is looking at him wide eyed, trying to send him a message. Dave looks away from his friend and back to the table dancer. She was staring right at him with squinted eyes. They seem to make eye contact for a solid second before she abruptly lifts a hand to her forehead. She held up her pointer and pinky fingers. The 'rock and roll' symbol she held against her head imitated horns as scrunched her nose, sticking her tongue out like a child. The action shocked Dave, but he couldn't help but find her oddly adorable.

Todd is quick to snatch the handle at the top of Dave's backpack and drag him away to their bus stop at the end of the street. The ride home was a pretty quiet one after that.

》》》

Two weeks have passed since he'd first seen the strange girl. Every spare chance he got during spring break was spent taking advantage of his vigilante skills for the wrong reasons. He had secretly visited that park numerous times, watching his girl and her friend group from afar. He knew that stalking was not how he should've gone about this, but he also didn't see walking straight up to her and introducing himself as an option either.

Something was definitely wrong with him. There is no good reason for him to know where she lives, but he convinced himself it was just to ensure she got home safe. Tonight only enforced that thought.

Usually she would walk home with at least one friend for good measure, but for some unknown reason to Dave, she walked alone.

Today, she had on an extra baggy hoodie. One that he came to know as one of her favorites. It reached the tops of her bare thighs, the hem of her mini skirt just visible below. She wore leg warmers that matched the color of her hoodie and worn combat boots. She had a small backpack that looked like wings on her back, decked out in pins of all kinds. The oversized hood was perched on top of her head.

She was always good about checking her surroundings and looking over her shoulder when walking alone, but this wasn't a matter of a sneak attack.

Dave watched as an older man stepped out in front of his strange girl. Dave couldn't hear the exact dialog due to their distance and the passing people and cars, but he for sure knew that whatever was being said was not welcomed.

"No. Thank you. I'd rather be left alone." Dave heard that loud and clear, so why did this creepy guy not take the hint and leave?

The man abruptly reached for her arm, and gripped it tight. Dave took off in a sprint.

"Get your hands off me, asshole!"

"Don't be a fucking tease-"

"Hey!" Dave cut the guy off, running up behind her. "Didn't you hear what she said, creep? Let her go!" He said firmly. Both the creepy guy and the girl's eyes look over to Dave, both of them giving him a once over. Her eyes were full of confusion, one thinly drawn brow raised. The man scoffed at the kid.

"What the fuck is this?" he shoots back. Dave squares his shoulders and raises his masked chin. "How about you mind your fucking business, princess, before you get hurt." the man follows up, making fun of Dave's costume.

"Let. Her. Go." Dave repeats sternly. The guy laughs in his face.

"Or what, leotard?" Dave follows up by removing the batons from behind his back. He points one at the man.

"Or else I'll have to beat you until you let go?" He says confidently. The girl cringes, that was not nearly as intimidating as he thought it was. The guy laughs again, flicking out a pocket knife. The two men stood there in a stare down. Their pause gave the girl a chance to yank her arm from the man's grasp, simultaneously using her other hand to whip out a pink taser decorated like a mini Gameboy. She shoves the sparked end into the side of the creep's neck, causing him to twitch and spasm. She holds it there until the man falls to the ground twitching, presumably unconscious. She takes her booted foot and jumps into a hard kick to the man's side.

"Fuck you, dipass!" Dave stands there shocked. The girl's gaze switches to face him. He lifts his hands in surrender and slowly puts his batons back. The girl takes one big step closer to Dave. He jumps back, but she is quick to grab one of his hands and begin dragging him down the route of towards her apartment.

They walk a couple blocks and round a corner in silence before she stops abruptly and turns to Dave. He stands there staring, absolutely shell shocked. "Who are you and what do you think you're doing!?" She asks, putting two hands on her hips and resting her weight on one side.

"Uh-" Dave stutters. The girl raises her brows expectantly. "I, uh- I was trying to help you." The girl's brows draw together as she squints.

"Thank you, but, to be honest, you didn't really do much, and that only answered one of my questions."

"Uh, I'm, uh- The name's KickAss." The girl stares at him in disbelief for a good five seconds, searching his eyes for any sense of a joke.

When she doesn't find anything, she lets out a "pfft" and giggles. "You're joking, right?" She raises her brows with a grin.

"Uh, no. I'm not…" Dave's eyes look everywhere but at her.

"I-," giggle, "I'm sorry." Another giggle, " I don't mean to be rude, but KickAss?" Dave smiles nervously, instinctual reaching for the back of his head. "You really need a rebranding, my guy." She says, an amused smile still playing on her lips. Her eyes didn't hold any malice or judgement, just intrigue.

"Yeah, well, I'm obviously not that creative." He laughs nervously. Dave looks back to her, finally getting a proper look at her up close. She's smiling… at him. God, he was going to faint.

"Jesus, your eyes." She says suddenly, catching Dave off guard. "They're gorgeous, my god." She huffs a short laugh, staring into his eyes. Dave can't keep eye contact for long, completely flustered. He thanked the powers that be that he had a mask on at this very moment. He was sure he was as red as ever.

"Thank you." He looks down. "You, uh, your eyes are beautiful, too." He says sheepishly. She laughs, shaking her head.

"Oh, please. They're just a normal, old brown. Nothing compared to your stunners. Wow." She throws back at him. "Well, I appreciate you stepping in, KickAss." She thanks, putting emphasis on his 'name'.

"No problem. You seem to have it handled without me." His illusion of 'stalking for protection' ruined.

"Nonsense! Thankfully, I didn't need you to start a fight this time. The fact that you even stepped in at all when you saw something means a lot, so thank you." She clasps her hands in front of her, swaying side to side.

"Can I walk you the rest of the way?" He asks. She shakes her head.

"As sweet as that is, no, thank you. I don't quite know how I feel about masked men knowing where I live." She teases. "Plus, it's not much further. I'll be okay." She smiles at him, again. Dave can't decide if he wishes she'd stop looking at him or if he wishes she'd keep her gaze on him forever. She begins walking away, "Thanks, again! See you around!" She shouts behind her, turning another corner.

》》》

Two months have passed. Shortly after their first, up close, encounter, Dave made it a point to walk her home every chance he got, always when she was alone. Well, not every time. She started to get suspicious as to how he always knew when she was walking alone. "Are you following me?" She'd ask, Dave giving an unconvincing 'pfft' and a 'no', causing her to roll her eyes. After that, he made sure to space out their walks but still following her from a distance. It's now nearing the end of June, and his graduation date is only a couple weeks out.

This night was a first. She invited Dave in. His eyes widened in shock, "Yeah, sure!" He said a little too enthusiastically, internally cringing at himself, but his awkwardness only caused her to giggle.

She nods, "Okay. My brother is home, so you'll have to sneak in. I'll go in first. Just turn the corner," she points, "and use the fire escape ladder to get to the fourth window up. My window has a collection of ninja turtle action figures on the sill." Dave opens his mouth to say something, but she continues, "Wait there until I come in. I just have to let my brother know I'm home first, then I can disappear into my room." Dave sits his mouth and nods. "Okay, I'll see you up there!" She smiles, jogging into the building.

Dave watches her jog up the stairs until he can't see her anymore. He then makes his way around the building and, as instructed, climbs up the fire escape. He gets to her window with ease. Through the parted curtains, he could see into her dark room. The light in the hallway provided little to illuminate the room from the bottom of the closed door, but thanks to the setting sun, Dave could clearly see the four little trinkets on her windowsill. It made him smile. She was a little nerdy, too.

"Ok, I'll order the pizza!" Before Dave could analyze her room any further, she bursts through the door, tossing her bag on the floor. She turns, closing and locking the door before running up to the window. She throws the curtains open and slides up the window, smiling brightly at him. "Hola."

"Buenas Noches, señorita." Dave says, again cringing at his choice of words, getting a laugh out of her.

"Vamos." She says, stepping aside. He climbs through the window, trying his best to avoid disrupting the figures. "You up for pizza?" She asks once he's fully inside.

Dave nods, looking around at her room. "Yeah, sure."

She smiles up at him, gesturing to her room, "Bienvenido a mi casa." She says dramatically. "Make yourself at home, señor KickAss."

Dave chuckles at her, shaking his head. "Gracias." His accent is still strongly American, but four years of Spanish didn't make it the worst. He goes to sit on the plush bench at the end of her bed. He figured that was a safe bet. He wasn't on her bed, but he also wasn't awkwardly sitting at her desk in the corner of the room. It was a kind of middle ground. His eyes follow her as she goes over to her old school boombox, graffitied with stickers, and turns on some music, low enough for them to hear each other, but just loud enough to disguise their voices from any eavesdropping. "Do I need to worry about your brother?" He asks playfully, deep down a little nervous.

"No, he's playing video games with our cousins online. He can't hear a thing with his-"

"AHHH! NO MAMES WEY!" a scream can be heard, as if on queue, scaring the fuck out of Dave.

She rolls her eyes, continuing, "headphones on." She sits on her bed, crawling over to rest her bare legs on the empty cushion next to Dave. She grabs her laptop that was laying on the bed and opens it up. "What kind of pizza do you like?" She asks, typing away.

"Uh, whatever." He says, unsure.

"Well, guess we can't go wrong with half pepperoni and half cheese." She says, placing the order. "My brother is pretty boring when it comes to pizza." Another scream could be heard in the background, promoting another eyeroll. Dave chuckles a little, nodding.

He twiddles his thumbs before asking, "So, why did you invite me in?" The girl shrugs her shoulders, still typing and clicking away.

"I dunno. You've walked me home nearly everyday for the passed 2 months, and I've grown to trust you. Every time we part ways, I feel the urge to keep you around. I figured it was about time we hung out for more than just a few blocks." She closes her laptop hallway and sets it to the side. His heart flutters.

Dave looks at her stunned. "You want to hang out with me?" The girl squints at him.

"Um, yeeaaah. What kind of question is that?"

"I, uh- I mean- it's just- you know-..." He stutters. She giggles at him.

"What?"

"I mean, you're just so cool, and I'm, you know-"

She looks at him amused. "You're what? A cool vigilante guy who is sweet and funny and someone who should totally should give himself more credit." She bends her legs, nudging him softly with her knee. She scoots down the bed a little to sit closer to Dave, holding her knees to her chest. She uses her oversized sweatshirt to encompass her entire body. Dave looks at her with admiration, his heart racing again, before looking away from her and down at the bench below him. "I don't hear a 'Gracias' or a 'Tienes razón, mi hermosa. Eres muy inteligente y eres la mujer más bella del mundo. Gracias por todo, mi amor.'" She goes on.

Dave laughs, "Thank you. I don't know if you're right, but you are the most beautiful girl I've ever seen." Dave says boldly but still avoiding eye contact, looking down at his hands.

The girl's eyes widen, "You speak Spanish?" She looks horrified, embarrassed by the words of praise she tried to get him to say.

"A little." He twiddles his thumbs more, "I've been taking Spanish all throughout high school. I am no expert, but I can get around." He shrugs.

"Welp, that's embarrassing." the girl reaches up to tug hard on the strings of her hoodie, hiding her face in the fabric. Dave looks up and reaches for her hands.

"Que? No 'gracias'?" He teases, trying to get a look at her face. He has no clue what is coming over him, but he is becoming a bit more comfortable. His heart is still pounding, but seeing her get flustered brought his confidence up. She peers out from inside her hoodie. Her wide eyed look nearly floored him. He was forever grateful that he was already seated or else his knees would have buckled.

"Gracias,... señor KickAss." She says playfully, trying to make up for her embarrassment by joking off. He offers her a soft smile, melting her. It was now her turn to avoid his eyes. Her eyes make their way over to the stereo. "So… you're still in high school?" She asks, looking back to him, wearily.

He nods, "Y-Yeah, but not for long." He says quickly, the realization coming quick that they don't actually know each other's ages. "I graduate in like 2 weeks." Her nonexistent brows raise as she nods. "Are you?"

She shakes her head, "No, I tested out, got my diploma early. I couldn't be bothered with high school anymore." She shrugged. Dave's brows shot up. She really was smart. "It's just me and my brother. The earlier I got out of high school, the more time I had. It allowed me to help out with bills and whatever, get us a nicer place." She gestures to the room around her. "I mean, it may not seem like much, but trust me when I say it's a million times better than where we were." She then takes the time to look around and appreciate her surroundings.

Dave's look of admiration returns. "You're amazing." He blurts out. The girl's eyes find him, holding his eye contact, again with this wide eyed stare. She was gonna kill him. Her heart stopped when she looked in his eyes and found nothing but honesty and softness. She gives him a little smile. My god, Dave was literally going to pass out.

》》》

Dave didn't seem to notice, but hours went by with them talking, eating pizza, and talking some more. It was now pitch black outside, and the only light in the room was coming from her bedside lamps and a flickering candle.

By now, both of them had made their way into the bed. Dave was laying on his back, watching the ceiling while she was laying on her stomach perched up on her elbow, watching him. They were currently both comfortably silent, the soft music still playing in the background. She guessed that her brother must have fallen asleep at his console by now, considering there weren't any more frustrating cries or exciting cheers heard from across the apartment. Dave is the first to interrupt the silence between them. "Would it be a terrible idea to take my mask off right now?"

The girl gasps dramatically, placing a hand on her chest, "and reveal your secret identity, Zorro?" She lets out a short laugh, this causes Dave to let out a tired smile.

"I'm being serious." There's a pause.

"Well…" the girl starts, "you know, once you do so, there's no going back. I'm not so much of a bitch that I'd ever expose you, but you know… it's a big step."

"Is it in the right direction?" he asks, turning his head to look over at her. They stare deeply into each other's eyes.

She sighs, "I'm sorry, babe, but that's a decision you'll have to make on your own." The pet name catches Dave off guard. He nods and sits up, causing the girl next to him to follow suit, twisting her body so she's cross crossed and facing him. Dave takes a deep breath and reaches for the back of his mask. Just as his gloved hands meet the fabric, he felt a smaller hand touch his. "Are you sure?... Absolutely positive?"

He doesn't move, "Positive." He replies. She lefts go of his hand and he pulls the mask forward and off his head. He kept his head down for a second, taking in a deep breath. He could feel her eyes staring at the side of his head.

He looks up and turns to her. They make eye contact for a good 3 second before her sleeve covered hands come flying up to her face, covering her eyes. "Oh my god!"

"Oh my god, what?!" Dave panics.

"You're hot!" She exclaims. Wow, did she really know how to throw Dave off. He watches her, shocked. "This feels wrong, oh my god!" She says, muffled by her sleeves. "I should not be seeing this right now." Dave smiles a little. How does she do this? She's just too cute.

He reaches up for her hands, "Well, like you said, there's no going back, babe." He says, pulling her hands down. Her eyes were squeezed shut, scrunching up her face in what Dave thought was the most adorable way. "Oh, don't be a baby. Open your eyes." He says. She squeezes them even harder just before opening them up, like ripping off a bandaid.

She lets out a sigh as her eyes roam over every feature. She takes a moment to just admire his face before giggling when her eyes make their way to his hair. "What?" Dave asked, this time not panicked, but amused.

She giggles some more, smiling wide. "Your hair is a mess." She says finally, biting her smile.

He rolls his eyes, "Yeah, I don't really do face reveals, so I didn't bother thinking of a way to properly tie my hair up under the mask."

She smiles at him softly, her eyes relaxed. She reaches up to touch his cheek. It's warm and a little sweaty from being stuck under a mask for the last several hours. They get lost in each other's eyes. Dave's jaw was slack, lips parted slightly. Her features still held her soft smile.

"I think I love you." Dave says abruptly, taking her aback.

"What?-"

"I just always feel so safe and comfortable around you, and I love how you're so unapologetically yourself, and you are always so kind and beautiful, and I can't help but find myself always thinking about you, and I'm always wondering if you're thinking about me to, which I hope you do, because I wouldn't know what to do with myself if I wasn't on your mind the way you're on mine, and ever since I saw you dancing on that picnic table when Todd and I were walking to the bus stop and you made that weird adorable little devil horn face thing, I knew I just had to know you, like I was drawn to you, and-"

"Wait, that was you?"

Dave ignores get question and continues rambling, "and I know we're just kids, but I can't think of a better way to live life than with you, and I want us to be together. I want to go to see your favorite scary movies with you, even though it confuses me as to why you still go to them when you say they always scar you, and I want to hold your hand and be there for you when you're scared. I want to go see those bands you always talk about in concert with you. I want to learn every lyric to every one of your favorite songs just to impress you when they come on. I want to hold you at night when you've had a bad day and don't know what to do with yourself. I want to keep you safe and always make sure you're happy. I want to be the reason you smile. I want to walk with you forever, stay by your side. I want to fall asleep beside you every night and wake up to you every morning, and I want nothing more than to hear you say you love me and tell me you love me the same way I love you, and I-"

"Dave, shut up!" She says with a smile, her eyes glistening. "Breathe." They both take a deep breath together. "If you keep going, you'll turn blue." They share a small laugh. "Can I kiss you?" She asks.

Without responding, Dave dives forward and kisses her full force. They deepen the kiss, her other hand reaching up to caress his other cheek, his hands resting on the bed, one on each side of her knees.

Without breaking the kiss, Dave moves to readjust. He pulls her closer, moving her to sit in his lap. She follows his lead, getting up to straddle him. Dave wraps his arms around her waist, hugging her closer to him. She arches her back, "accidentally" grinding against him. Dave is first to break the kiss with a gasp, his hands immediately making their way to her hips. She opens her eyes to find Dave's squeezed shut with his eyebrows narrowed together. His blue eyes open to meet hers after a second, both of them breathing heavily, Dave's eyes wide and innocent, looking up at her.

"Sorry." He says, embarrassed that she was able to affect him so easily. She grins, shaking her head.

"Don't be sorry. It's good to know I have such an effect on you." She leans down to rest her forehead on his. She squishes his check together, pushing him down to the bed, his hands finding themselves caressing her now exposed butt from under the mini skirt she still wore. He felt all the blood drain from his head downward. "Should we keep going?" She asks. Dave nods furiously, no longer able to form words.

She leans in slowly to plant a soft kiss on his lips. "I love you, too."

》》》

Moodboard (exposing "y/n") on my page under #weird girl swiss fic

[koskela-knights]

People plz tune in on Lord Huron, especially the Strange Trails and Vide Noir albums

They’re sooo fitting for Alan Wake & Control 💃🕺

v Some examples under the cut v

Meet Me In The Woods almost describes the whole of the AW1, just look at the opening lines

I took a little journey to the unknown, And I come back changed. I can feel it in my bones. I fucked with forces that our eyes can't see. Now the darkness got a hold on me. Oh, the darkness got a hold on me. How long, baby, have I been away? Oh, it feels like ages though you say it's only days. There ain't language for the things I've seen. And the truth is stranger than my own worst dreams. The truth is stranger than in all my dreams. Oh, the darkness got a hold on me.

I have seen what the darkness does. Said goodbye to who I was. I ain't never been away so long. Don't look back them days are gone. Follow me into the endless night. I can bring your fears to life. Show me yours and I'll show you mine. Meet me in the woods tonight.

La Belle Fleur Sauvage and Cursed' lyrics remind me of Baba Jakala and Kesä who got bewitched by her

Cause I don't know how to walk out of this deal The spell she cast on me is real I don't know how to right the wrongs I've d don't know how to take my own life back Everything she touches turns to black I don't know how to fight what I can't see That girl has laid a curse on me

Once he's gazed upon her, a man is forever changed When I die I want her lying by my side In my grave, in my grave

Thomas Zane and Alan somehow in The Yawning Grave

I tried to warn you when you were a child. I told you not to get lost in the wilds. I sent you omens and all kinds of signs. I taught you melodies, poems and rhymes.

Emerald Star is giving Tim Breaker in the Night Springs DLC

You never loved me I came all the way through time and space To take you away and out of this place With the moonlight in your eyes You're the brightest star in all of the sky I'll cry and I'll cry if your light ever dies

Lost In Time and Space gives me Control vibes

Lost in time and space Aimless drifting into a far off place Hurtling through the vast unknown Staring straight into the pure, black void

More Control vibes with The Balancer's Eye

If I follow the starlight and call your name Will I see you again on the astral plane?

And The World Ender is kinda Max Payne coded, at least this verse

I had a life and a place in the world I had a sweet talkin' wife and a beautiful girl I know I'm never gonna see 'em again Gonna tear the world up until I have my revenge They took my life but it isn't the end They put me in the ground but I'm back from the dead

[comfortkinaudio]

Ive been told m y music helps those kinds a feelings. so. I hope this helps you too. Lyrics under the cut. the program i use is -> https://aimusic.so/app

"Far From Home"

(Verse 1) I woke up in a world that feels too loud, Lost in a crowd but no familiar sound. This isn’t my timeline, this isn’t my place, The mirror shows a stranger wearing my face. I’m the echo of a life I used to know, A skeleton with nowhere else to go.

(Pre-Chorus) The stars don’t align like they did before, I’m walking on a road that’s not mine anymore.

(Chorus) I’m far from home, where the silence feels like weight, In a body that bends, but it can’t escape. I’m calling out, but the void just stares, No one answers, no one’s there. I’m far from home, and the cracks all show, A shadow of myself in a world unknown.

(Verse 2) The air feels heavy, the ground feels thin, Every step’s a battle I can’t seem to win. The jokes fall flat when there’s no one to hear, And the laugh I fake is just masking the fear. These hands, they’re not mine, they tremble and break, But my soul keeps fighting for my own sake.

(Pre-Chorus) The stars don’t align like they did before, I’m trapped in a life I can’t restore.

(Chorus) I’m far from home, where the silence feels like weight, In a body that bends, but it can’t escape. I’m calling out, but the void just stares, No one answers, no one’s there. I’m far from home, and the cracks all show, A shadow of myself in a world unknown.

(Bridge) I remember the warmth of the underground, Where monsters sang and laughter was found. But now I’m a ghost in a foreign land, Trying to rebuild with trembling hands. If I could just feel the bones beneath, I’d remember who I am, find some relief.

(Chorus) I’m far from home, where the silence feels like weight, In a body that bends, but it can’t escape. I’m calling out, but the void just stares, No one answers, no one’s there. I’m far from home, and the cracks all show, A shadow of myself in a world unknown.

(Outro) But maybe someday, when the stars realign, I’ll find my way back, through the threads of time. Until then, I’ll carry this burden alone, A homesick soul, forever far from home.

[hopefullyakotelife]

Last line challenge

It's just a first draft, nothing special and I'm new to the spider verse fandom...

Fingers ached and yet they continued to clench around the armrest of the armchair. A cold breeze caressed the back of his neck and he rolled his head forward, needing it to ground himself. He could still hear Lyla’s voice in his head, running circles. It had been just four hours ago when the call had come in, taking his attention off from his work. Bright and glaring screens, demanding his attention, were replaced by the wave of fear when the tiny pixelated figure of his friend told him about the accident. Miguel had felt his heart sink to the bottom of his stomach. The rush of blood thundering in his ears. He hadn’t hesitated even for a second and immediately typed in the coordinates Lyla had sent him into his watch, while Lyla projected another screen- showing a hospital in Brooklyn. It had just been hours ago when he had grumbled and contemplated and argued with himself about their latest fight. And now? Now he sat in this too small armchair, in this…alibi…apartment and watched the steady rise and fall of the kid’s chest as Miles slept. The sight of the kid in that hospital bed- Miguel would never forget. He looked so small, so foreign in that white clinical room, devoid of any colors and sounds except for machines and white. Miguel couldn’t describe the feeling when he stormed into the room and Miles looked at him with a wobbly smile and glassy eyes, reaching for him. Miguel’s heartbeat skipped painfully when certain memories rose up and he punched and pushed them back into the black void where they belonged. He had known, when Miles had stormed off after their fight. He should have trusted his instincts, should have called or run after Miles and talk. Just talk. But no. Miguel hadn’t stopped the kid. He hadn’t felt responsible enough. Which was ridiculous in hindsight. Shame came next because no matter what…Miguel had been relieved that Miles had called him. Him. Not Peter, his mentor. Not his friends. No. Miles had called Miguel O’Hara. Miguel sighed and looked down at his lap, fingers digging into the fabrics of the armchair. His eyes flicked over to the coffee table and yet again, a sinking feeling, hot and frizzling at the edges. He stared at his phone and sighed yet again. He’s not sure how many times he had tried, how many times the hospital had tried or the school. Miguel couldn’t understand. He was a busy man- basically the personification of the word ‘overworked’. But the second the call came, Miguel hadn’t hesitated. He had told Lyla to take over, to call Jess or any of the others if she needed help. He had jumped through that portal and made his way to and then through the hospital until he arrived at Miles’ room. He had been the one to talk to the doctors, to the nurses. He had taken care of the paperwork. He wanted to curse and scream, to rage.

Tagged by and sending it right back at you @hastalavistabyebye and @ninjababypowpow

[finding-you-in-any-world]

Prompt for procrastinatic writing: anything time-travely (theres not enough of those 🥲)

Hello, anon! Thank you for sending me a prompt - I hope this is okay!! I am not very well versed in time traveler fics 🥲 sorry!

But I hope you enjoy this little Drabble!!

If you’d like to send me a prompt, please do!!

Dan and Phil are moving from their first London flat in 2017, but when they wake up for moving day they’re in a strange room that looks like a hotel - but has some of their stuff.

“Do you have any more boxes you need to tape up, Dan?” Phil asked, walking into the bedroom. He almost tripped over Dan’s feet, but was thankfully able to keep himself from falling. Dan was laying face down in the mostly void bedroom. Phil could see that his eyes were open, staring off into space. Lately, if Dan was alone for the better part of an hour, Phil would find him like this. Dan did not acknowledge Phil’s question, just continued to stare off into space.

Phil stepped over Dan’s torso to have a seat by his head. He crossed his legs, and decided to card his fingers through Dan’s hair one time, feeling the waves bounce through his fingers. He took a breath, waiting for the rant that usually follows him finding Dan in this position. It did not come. Instead, Phil asked “What’s wrong?”

Dan shrugged his shoulders, letting the silence sit before he answered. “What if they find out?” Dan asked, voice slightly muffled through the carpet.

“What?” Phil asked. By this point in the day, he had been packing for hours, and even though the gas man assured him that it wasn’t, he was starting to feel like the gas leak was getting to his head.

Phil felt like normally he would have been able to know what Dan was talking about, without having to ask - Phil took a lot of pride in their almost telepathic connection after almost eight years together. But Phil was too tired today to allow his brain to work.

“About the - you know…” Dan continued to mumble. When he was met with silence, Dan huffed. “About the two flats, Phil.”

“Oh… Oh. We will be extra careful this time, Dan. Don’t worry. Don’t forget - this is only temporary.” Phil’s fingers found their way back to Dan’s hair, attempting to smooth the worries he could feel radiating from Dan’s mind. Phil would take them away, if he could. “We will only live there as long as it takes us to find a house we like, okay?”

Dan nodded. Phil looked down at Dan, could see the tears begin to bubble up in his eyes. “Hey, no - no, come here.” Phil whispered, sliding his thighs under Dan’s head. “We will find a house, and it will have a - a cherry blossom tree right in the middle of the house. And a slide that delivers you from the bedroom to the kitchen, where a robot has automatically made you a coffee - okay?”

Phil watched Dan’s face, the bubble of tears that threatened to spill over, turned into a wet giggle. “And a room that’s like no windows - and everything in it is black. And we will have the biggest tv, and all the games.”

Dan nodded, quietly resting his head against Phil’s thighs. “Let’s go to bed, we can finish the rest in the morning when the movers come, okay?” He felt another nod, and stood up carefully. He grabbed Dan’s hand and helped him up.

*

Dan woke up in a strange room. Dan looked around, trying to take in the room. It was fairly dark from black out curtains that reached the floor.

He could feel Phil beside him, still soundly asleep. After so many years, he’d be able to recognize the feeling of Phil beside him. Dan tried to blink the sleep out of his eyes to get them to focus on his surroundings. From what he could make out of the room, everything was black and white. There was a set of built-ins to his left, mostly black, and a chair in the corner. Did they somehow end up in a hotel room last night? Dan attempted to sort through his memories from last night.

After crying on the floor of the bedroom, Phil pulled him to bed, offering him distracting videos and kisses until they fell asleep.

A globe of light began slowly rising next to him. He couldn’t remember where he was, and it was starting to freak him out. As the light began to illuminate more of the room, he tried to take in more specific details.

Is that - is that the butt chair? Dan rubbed his eyes, trying to get closer. And - and is that his teddy bear? And a picture of Phil’s family? What the fuck was happening?

He turns over to shake Phil awake, he could hear the fear in his voice. “Phil, Phil. Wake the fuck up. Where the fuck are we?”

Phil began to stir, blinking at Dan. Dan watched Phil glance behind him, eyes squinting trying to focus. He naturally reached behind him, trying to find his glasses. His hand found a pair, and without looking, put them on his face. They were a clear pair of glasses that Dan had never seen before.

“Are we at a hotel? What happened last night?” Phil asked. Dan tried to fumble with the fancy ass lights beside him, trying to get more light in the room.

“No,” Dan answered. “This is our shit, Phil.” To emphasize the point, he stood up and grabbed the picture of Phil’s family from the shelf it was on. He handed the picture to Phil and threw himself back onto the bed.

He put his head in his hands and felt Phil touch his shoulder. “Dan, where the fuck are we?”

[kendertrove]

This EP recommended to me by a very kind anon!

We’re doing something a little different this time as this is a concept album, but i am here for it. One Master lends a great creepy vibe to Raistlin’s rise to power, rendering it as a horror story.

The first song, “The Dark Tower,” establishes Raistlin’s position as master of the Tower of High Sorcery in Palanthas. “Chill of the Grave” is Raistlin issuing a challenge to Takhisis, and shows his plan to rule. I especially love the last verse: “I will not rule over a dead world/The Abyss is calling for me/I will feel the chill of the grave.”

“Unholy Grimness” is Raistlin at the top of his game. Everything’s going his way, and he finally feels on top of the world. (The lines describing Nuitari as “an unnatural hole of darkness/Radiating in the night sky” make me think of a black hole. That could be something fun to explore in a fic.)

“The Test” goes back in time to show Raist’s own test at the Tower of High Sorcery in Wayreth, and developing this scheme. “Master of Past and Present” has him accepting Fistandantilus in Silvanost, and using him to become that same Master of Past and Present. The final song, “I, Magus,” shows Raistlin’s own identity, his will.

This was a great breakdown of the beginning of Raist’s storyline. I loved listening it. It’s not the style of metal i usually listen to, so it was fun to hear something different. Thanks again to the anon who brought it to my attention.

Lyrics below the cut (yes, all of them):

"The Dark Tower" The one place where evil reigns Where the guardians of the tower keep watch

The one who stared into the face of insanity Impaled at the gates of despair Calling a curse upon the mighty tower Until the master of the past and the present Shall return with power None shall pass into the accursed woods Without the seal of its master

Proud warriors shall fear its embrace Mortals who enter shall never return Void of life, awaiting my call Awaken my friend, for now I am your master Black bound tomes, cloaking secrets of the dark arts The keys to my final victory

Within the shadows of my laboratory The site of my greatest creations Life shall be called forth by the power of my magic

Untouched by the sun, blacker than the darkness The watchmen bow before me, as I plan my greatest triumph

Silence and darkness are the ones I can trust None shall disturb the master of the tower While I forge a power stronger than the gods

"Chill of the Grave" Behold dark queen of the night sky A challenger to your reign is calling I am coming for your seat in the hall

With your key and the tomes of the great one I possess the power to usurp your throne All that I need is access to the abyss I must find a soul of purity

Her blind faith in everlasting innocence And my quest for eternal creation Will open the portal in Zhaman

I must pass the test of Wind, Water, Darkness, Fire, and Blood It will bring knowledge Of emptiness and pain

I will not rule over a dead world The Abyss is calling for me I will feel the chill of the grave

"Unholy Grimness" Eternal will and strength Shaped by the darkest forge Reaching the heights of the gods I stand at the center of the world

Rising above the filth and decay My ambition is above the world I am alone on this quest Seeking none to stand by my side

Unholy grimness

It is always winter in my sight Beauty becomes death none can escape from The crushing gaze of the hourglass

Endless hunger for the knowledge of a master Filled with a darkness without dimension I control the river of time with only one goal No god can halt my powerful fury

My frail shell cloaks a deadly force The gods themselves will tremble in my presence

An unnatural hole of darkness Radiating in the night sky I will raise the hourglass I will rule unchallenged

"The Test" On the 7th day of the 7th month During the 7th minute of the 7th hour The conclave will summon my presence At the tower in the woods

To face the test of high sorcery From which many do not return Where I will gain the right To enter the private realm of magic

Accompanied by a fool Who greets his weakness with a smile I begin by entering the forbidden inn Seeking refuge from carrying the burden

Bringers of doom greet my presence I will follow their dangerous path Seeking the tomes of the war magus I am drawn to his cold grasp

Revealing his plans of triumph I plan my own ascent to the sky Using his magic to crush my enemies And resist his deadly bloodstone

Facing one final obstacle I annihilate the false one Who threatens my final victory I have been granted access to the order

"Master of the Past and Present" Once the hand the kingpriest The age of your might has passed Your cold hand seeking my heart Your bloodstone draining my life

I do not fear your deadly grasp For I will become the true master I will rise into the night sky

My body forever shattered in torment Feeling the presence of your ancient hand Guiding my future into the darkness I lie before the giant hall Broken by the power of the great orb I will call for your aid

You cannot see my future you know not I bring your doom you will answer my call My ascent to the great tower is complete

With the key from the dark queen of evil I will find the secret of the abyss In the forgotten ages of the past

You were master of the past Now you are just a frozen corpse I am now master of the past and the present

"I, Magus" My soul was forged by the blow of the hammer Finding comfort in the darkness My only true companion The power of magic pulsing within my spirit None can break its grip of fire around my heart My will for creation cannot be overcome It will bring my only moments of solace

A teacher without a true spirit But one with the discipline I will need Unworthy tormentors fuel my hatred Feeling the sting of my misanthropic fury Gods of magic I will serve you I will bring glory to your name Grant me the power that I seek Let the fire burn strong I will rise from the ashes Leaving my mark in the untouched snow The crisp winds of my eternal winter Breathe a chill of life in my soul

My soul was forged by the blow of the hammer Finding comfort in the darkness My only true companion The power of magic pulsing within my spirit None can break its grip of fire around my heart

[onbearfeet]

March Patreon Flash Story!

This month's story is a quick one based on a prompt I found while googling desperately: "The funeral was at noon." I hadn't planned on having anyone attend any funerals, but Maggie has her reasons, and I suddenly found myself wondering whatever happened to the Jimmy Olsens of my universe after the capes all disappeared.

Since I ended up not using the one prompt I got, I decided I'm entitled to post the story here without consulting anyone. MWAHAHAHA.

For more context on this 'verse, see my AO3 (onethingconstant) or the tag "Untitled Superhero Project" on this blog.

For the Living

The funeral was at noon, in a quiet little church in Indiana. There had been no announcement—well, no public announcement.

Snap Anderson had been old-school—the oldest school, he would have said. He’d been wearing Jetfighter’s signal watch since 1961, and even after the mirror-helmeted alien had gone down in flames in 1982, Snap had kept wearing the watch, deactivated and silent, as a memorial to his best friend. He’d been a lot of people’s best friend, actually—half of Vanguard’s ever-changing lineup had counted Snap as an ally or a sidekick at one point or another, and there were as many clips of Snap attending heroes’ funerals as there were of him saying outlandish things on talk shows.

Now, Snap’s own funeral had barely a dozen people huddled in the pews.

Maggie slipped in through the back of the church after the organ started up, feeling the tag on her stolen black dress itch between her shoulder blades. Coming here had been a risk, she knew; most of Snap’s social circle had vanished in white light three years ago, and she was in serious danger of standing out in a crowd that would surely all know whoever was left. Being the only likely attendee under fifty wouldn’t help, either.

But it had been on her way to New York, and she couldn’t resist.

She scurried down the aisle in her stolen kitten heels, trying to look like she’d been caught in midday traffic, and slid into the first open seat in the frontmost empty pew. Everyone was singing, droning along to a song she hadn’t heard growing up in St. Joseph’s, so she stared at the floor and mumbled watermelon watermelon watermelon until it was time to stop.

The eulogy was bland, from what she could tell, and seemed to have copied several sentences verbatim from Snap’s Wikipedia page. That didn’t stop the occasional sob or sniffle from the gathered mourners. She wasn’t sure they were listening either.

One of the nuns had told her once that funerals are for the living, not the dead. Maybe the words didn’t matter as long as someone said them. As long as someone said something.

She wondered whether anyone would say anything when she died. Probably not, except for whoever had to clean up the mess.

The eulogy ended, and the organ started up again, and as the creaky mourners levered themselves out of their pews for a final round of what sounded like “Oh God Triumphant And Invisible”, Maggie craned her neck and saw it.

Standing by the head of the casket, just for an instant, was a tall figure in black body armor, half-swathed in a long black cloak, with a gleaming white mask carved to look like a grinning skull. It wasn’t a friendly skull, or even a particularly scary one. Not a Día de los Muertos calavera or a grinning rubber Halloween mask from a party store. It looked like someone had simply taken an ordinary human skull off a pile of them somewhere, sliced off the front of it, and glued it to the front of an otherwise formless black void.

Got you, you bastard, Maggie snarled to herself. The obituary had said Snap had died a natural death, but she knew better now.

Skullfaced freak never could resist a good chance to gloat.

The figure vanished again before she could so much as twitch out of her seat, and no one else in the little congregation reacted, but that was all right. She knew what she’d seen.

When the service ended, she retrieved her pack from behind the dumpster where she’d stashed it and wrote another name in her notebook. The dress and shoes went into the trash, her jeans and sneakers went back on, and she was walking toward the bus station before Snap Anderson’s casket was back in the hearse.

[witchcraftandburialdirt]

△ "Does it scare you knowing you're just another beings puppet? Something to play with and disscard as soon as it gets tired, that'd scare me. Maybe you you really didn't deserve what happened to you and you aren't what people forced you to fit the mold of? I've covered plenty of stories like that. People who think they're utterly irredeemable, because of how society forced them to be and how crippling it is when they realize they're not that way at all." - Sable @ dbd Robibi

✧ ━━ 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐃 △ 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐒𝐊 𝐀𝐍 𝐈𝐍𝐕𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 DEAD BY DAYLIGHT VERSE Difficulty Rating: 9/10

The man cast his gaze downward upon the salt circle where the girl was situated, did she hope it would offer her solace or serve as a barrier if he decided to not play nicely? Such a flimsy little thing could never be a proper bulwark, especially not when her questions itched and dug at the ever-deepening hole situated in his chest. Each one forced his mind open to memories; foggy as they were. Sable's soothing, delicate almost caring inquiries failed to provoke even a hint of warmth within him ━ instead a frigid chill penetrated his entire being. He ... didn't deserve what had happened to him? Ah ... it had been so long that it had become but a dream; a blurred reflection on the wrong side of a looking glass. Yet still somehow it blossomed into clarity.

He was suddenly dreadfully aware of how his skin sat on his bones, the damning silence within his ribcage, and how the blood barrier of his brain was beginning to bubble with uncertainties and long laid to rest horror. An image was thrust to the surface of his consciousness: his skull pulses matching the torrent of blood gushing through his wintry lashes to cast a red veil over the world. The rhythmic thudding of boots relentlessly striking his knuckles until half of his fingers were broken; the single thrust of a blade into his back forcing him to teeter on the edge of oblivion's stupor. Voices echoed in the cavernous depths of his memory, each slice trying to goad him to expose an imagined devil lurking beneath his soft spoken demeanor.

He remembered it, just for a moment; the soil beneath him whispering his name as he fell deeper into a numbing void. Robin felt himself floating deeper and deeper into the immeasurable cosmic ooze; unequivocally alone while the voices shrunk into oblivion. His body tightened into a crystalline husk ━ frozen in time with only the taste of pickling bile to comfort him. Had his tear ducts not dried up he would have wept as he ebbed in and out of existence all together. How many days had he been stuck here? Was it days? Hours? Years? Eons? No. No no no no no no no ━

I’m still alive. My body is still here.

Was it? Was he? Had he ever existed at all?

Our Lord Jesus Christ, to the world to save and to set me free. I trust in your power and grace that sustain and restore me. Loving Father, touch me now with your healing hands. Touch me, O Lord, and fill me with your light and your hope. Please Lord hear me - please save me please save me save me save me save me save me save me save me save me save me ━

Golden light flooded into his eyes and nearly blinded him, yet the burning sting across his dried cornea was one of the most wonderful things he had ever felt. The world slowly dripped into place once more and eventually color began to return, and his skin prickled with a cold breeze. The dappled sunlight flitted across his stagnant stare as the minutes ticked on, and he took the time to listen to each sound the forest produced. A thrill surged through him, as the melodic chorus of birds heralded the break of day; their nests stirring to acknowledge the rising sun. The crickets sang in brilliant unison, while the trees and foliage nearby whispered softly to him; each gentle breeze over his person felt like a wave of prayers.

For a span of three nights he stayed stuck in place, denied the bracing sensation of winter's fae dancing upon his exposed flesh. His mind was too clouded, and his thoughts meandered aimlessly through a labyrinth of questions. Something had heard his prayers and bestowed upon him this renewed opportunity, as though he were Christ. His heart wept when he witnessed the sun ascend and descend thrice in the horizon before he finally felt his nerves reignite and remind him of how he had ended up here. Verdant eyes bubbled with tears - he was far too overstimulated to do much else besides wail and dig his nails into the soil. Robin choked up as he blinked the gritty tears from his eyes in order to gaze down at his twitching fingers; he savored the brief respite and quiet before being interrupted by a nearby sound.

A dog barking and a familiar face rushing over towards him ... Who was that?

Another splinter of ice pierced his brain and began unweaving the intricate network of nerves and veins threading together the thin blanket of his current reality. And hidden beneath the layers of membrane, was a town full of living flesh gasping and retching on the fetid airs of their rotted kin. Each one bled dry and carved into grave meat; and when his cup ran dry he cleaved through the next flesh sac. Men, women, children ━ all were harvested until the village became a crypt. Snowfall that marked the end of England's winter was marred by the remains of the deceased, leaving death stains upon the pristine white landscape ... Then he saw Her.

Her coaxing fog gave rise to a pale horse that beckoned him onward into a realm awash with blood and anguished shrieks of those She deemed unworthy of Her sacred radiance. Power was given unto him ... to kill with sword, and with hunger, and with death, and with the beasts of the earth. The time of Judgement had come, had it not? In the course of his existence, a trio of horses - white, red, and black - had been by his side; it was now his time to accept the generous offer of reins extended to him by Her grace and love. To become the fourth rider with Her to walk by his side, jaws open and receiving the victims slain by Her devote servant.

"Something to discard? Oh no, my sweet ewe, you have failed utterly to see the destiny that lies before us all. Little Lamb, yours is the blood that will dye the robes of the faithful into white. Mine is the blade that will sacrifice you to our beloved God. Each one of Her creations plays a part, and She will guide us."

His body ... it was his, wasn't it? Yes. Yes. He chose to walk into the fog, he remembered that clearly; what else was there to do? Lay himself to a second final resting amongst the corpses and carrion of that accursed town? Or join in Her army of angels sent to slay and bring about the end of days? Perhaps those mangled villagers from his town had been right about his talent for sin, but his cruelty was rewarded with a Heaven of comfort and safety. He would never have to worry for his immortal soul again; God had already chosen him as Her scion.

Perhaps those mangled villagers from his town had been right about his propensity for wickedness, yet his sins were compensated with a Heaven of tranquility and security. As if something like this pathetic creature could ever hope to understand; oh well. She would know the truth soon enough; her true purpose written in red across her skin.

Robin watched her for a moment. Just one. Thereafter he slowly stepped forward and let his foot pass beyond the salt circle's protection.

[irondad-defensesquad]

current wips (updated!)

the mostly finished ones:

i'll send an SOS to the world - takes place during iron man 3, through uncle ben's pov. peter is devastated upon the news of tony's supposed death. uncle ben can tell how affected peter is, so he tries his best to lift peter's spirits.

if you're going to shoot somebody, shoot me! - peter gets hurt again, but tony is absolutely broken, because peter got hurt outside of patrol. the two were just hanging out when a guy tried to shoot tony, and peter took the bullet instead.

the view from halfway down - TRIGGER WARNING FOR SUICIDE. peter finally tries to end his life, but he gives up on the idea and saves himself. but he ends up halfway down the bridge, and he calls tony for help, fearing his mentor is going to get angry.

you’re all i need to get by - sickfic in which tony gets sick and peter looks after him. eventually, peter kisses tony's forehead without realizing. THIS IS NOT SHIPPY, ISTG

untitled - TRIGGER WARNING FOR SELF-HARM. morgan sees peter's cuts and tries her best to help. eventually she tells tony that peter is hurt.

the rest:

we didn't start the fire, chapter 2 - miles wakes up at an unfamiliar place, but he realizes he's not actually in danger. tony tries to figure out who was the boy that left miles there. basically a spider-verse x mcu crossover where tony is still alive, but he doesn't remember peter.

and i say to myself, what a wonderful world - short fic that takes place before peter travels to europe in ffh. but here tony is alive and he doesn’t want to stay away from peter after the last five years. it's more light-hearted than it sounds, trust me. inspired by the ending of finding nemo :)

i need some sleep - tony finds peter wearing the spider-man suit late at night, but he finds out that the kid isn’t fighting anyone. peter is just talking to karen, and tony learns a lot more about him.

and then you’re left in the dust - a sequel to kid arachnid, part of the miles in the mcu series, in which mcu!miles meets peter and tony, and he eventually gets spider-powers. tony starts mentoring him before the events of endgame. suddenly, one day, miles’ father, who was dusted, returns as if nothing happened. miles later finds out peter and everyone else is back once he visits tony.

untitled - sequel to and the void stares back. after tony adopts tony jr., a black cat, peter brings an orange kitten home. much to his and tony's surprise, junior quickly adopts the kitten. shenanigans ensue.

p.s. say edith - another mcu x spider-verse crossover! miles graduates from school and all his spider-friends attend. peter shows up wearing cool glasses miles has never seen before. sadly, tony is dead in this one.

turn the lights off, carry me home - peter has an anxiety attack, and ned does his best to help. since they can't get aunt may, ned suggests they call tony. peter is against that, mostly bc he knows tony would pick him up and help him out. peter just hates getting in the way.

unsure about these:

i've become so numb (title might be changed) - peter is working in the lab while tony is out, when (alive) howard stark enters without anyone's permission. howard is clearly a dick to peter, but the kid is furious when the man insults tony and all his hard work. peter won't stand for that. i'm a little concerned this one might be too similar to you keep me searching for a heart of gold...

dad sneeze (title might be changed) - based on a post by @/fotibrit, peter never understood what was so funny about dad sneezes, until he hears tony sneeze incredibly loud. it's just fluff.

[darkdemeter]

A FERAL IN THE DARK

hc based: .ᐟ very rare is it that he loses that discipline and goes absolutely feral to have you

Death was always a well versed and disciplined lover. Everything he'd do was with a single, pleasurable purpose, no matter how tedious his teasing would become.

Every stroke, every gesture and flick, every bite and kiss in the room's darkness had meaning, a purpose behind it.

But not this time.

As per your relationship's agreement, the room was void of all light to conceal the one part of himself he refuses to let you see. It's not that it bothers you so much, at least not mostly, you have a bit of a thing for the whole animosity of it all; what it was that resided beneath the mask. But you feel like you lack in knowing Death truly.

And maybe that's how he wants it to remain. To forever be the shadow cast upon the wall that hovers above you, intimately driving his hips into you with the husky grace of his groans filling your senses as you grip the sheets tightly.

Death is not the one you would expect to be between your legs, no less in this predicament, in this current state of mind...

Before you'd known it had happened, he was on you like a dog with his bone.

Death was often a disciplined and restrained lover, holding back most of his own strength that you mistook for only his physical prowess. You never expected that madness... insanity... would be set upon you.

Your moans dissipate into shortened huffs. Gasps. Whines that choke in the gullet, hitch in the lungs. You're staring at what you presume to be the ceiling but it's just so dark and the venomous drug of Death's vocals tear you away from a world of reason, a world of sense.

Between your legs he ravishes you. He's got a hold of you tightly. There are no calculative strokes that have you teetering on a broken plea for him to be merciful and less teasing tonight. No, the self patient and torturous play on his end is replaced by the merciless nature of his instincts. Primal. Feral.

You're throbbing, legs quivering and his grip only squeezes around them tighter, the verge of another uncountable climax within reach and he's not letting up. He isn't in his right mind to keep you on that ledge until you're in near tears and begging.

"D-Death-" You gasp and your back arches sharply at the prick of his fangs poised at the apex where you are most sensitive.

He speaks in a tongue you can't comprehend. A language unknown and forbidden to your curiosity. All you do know in this moment is that you do not deny him.

His sounds are harmonious in his deeply driven lusts, tongue gliding and feeling you shiver and flinch with each pleasuring strike he delivers to your core. The marring of his fangs you thought was over begins in a cycle anew, your inner thighs are riddled with patches of stinging pain that match the same size as his mouth, left behind is a moistened coat of either saliva or blood. Maybe even both.

Still, you feel how your skin pulls taut over your own knuckles with the threat to split and break open from how you clench the sheets into your palms. The prick of your nails is felt between the fabric.

The roughened purr of his throaty pitch akin to a hunting predator elects a pitiful whine from you. His hunger evident in the way he is devouring you, finishing the sweet nectar he harvested with greedy intent.

How can one such as Death be so far gone to the logics of his mind?

He is purely feral now.

"I need to have you. Now."

Death used to be a very disciplined lover but now as you're flipped onto your stomach, back pinned against the cold rippling grave of his gaunt yet muscled body that delivers a chill deep into your bones, you are driven deep into the bed with each thrust he gives of his hips. Each one that follows is more powerful than the last.

His breath comes in ghostly, haunting pants that flow hot through your mind yet hover coldly against your skin. Your gasps and breathless moans grow louder as a symphony to his ears and his hands have your wrists pinned.

There is a feral side to your lover, and it comes every once in a while. So do not mistake him the next time he is endlessly tedious. 

SOME DEATH HEADCANONS

Ayooo, it’s the man himself~

.ᐟ it’s really hard for him to say those three words… though he knows in his heart what he feels, what he tries to bury deep down and cast aside — almost clawing at his chest until it’s nothing but shedded skin and muscle — he knows what he feels. And it scares him

.ᐟ the way he can stare into your eyes with this stern, aware state that is calculating and almost viper-like in nature is beyond amazing and terrifying. Your resolve always weakens when you meet his gaze; yes it is that gut wrenching level of intensity

.ᐟ at first he wants you to see him as the monster he is to scare you away but gradually over time, he becomes scared of letting you see the monster

.ᐟ he is Death - enemies would really think twice before thinking of messing with you. It’s over for any involved who dare try

.ᐟ prefers to have you to himself, in seclusion. He’ll make a home that’s safe for you

.ᐟ enjoys a witty back and forth battle of sass when he’s in the mood for it, but on the off chance he’s in an unsavoury mood… it’s best to watch yourself

.ᐟ he has a patience that is best not tested with

.ᐟ his skin is cold, very well near too cold to touch, but beneath it there is a flow of ever faint heat but it almost thrums in dull pulses; his heartbeat is there yet it is barely heard

.ᐟ Despair is quite the fearsome menace. It takes AGES for this horse to even tolerate you without the firm ire of his rider barking at him to behave himself and to keep him from nipping at you

.ᐟ Dust is more easier to get along with in the beginning, so long as you have some carrion and gentle pats in store, he’ll warm up to you quickly

.ᐟ good luck getting this guy a regular wash schedule. He takes an entire bottle of shampoo and conditioner to get his hair clean of grease and grime

.ᐟ holds you very close and pretty tightly as you sleep. Does he sleep? Nah, ever rarely. He’s gotta make sure you’re protected

+ nsfw bonus +

.ᐟ the mask stays on, there is no “ifs” or “buts”. Only exception is that the lights are out and the cover of darkness conceals his face

.ᐟ a rather slow, sensual lover, wants to take his own time exploring you — the more you tease him the more likely he’s gonna get you back by making you wait

.ᐟ very rare is it that he loses that discipline and goes absolutely feral to have you

.ᐟ oh yes, he is (like his brethren) not lacking in size. It’s ever so slightly curved when erect cough, who said that?

.ᐟ does not like to be in a submissive role. It would take a great deal of intimate trust to allow you to have some kind of dominant power over him; and he has to be aware of it. No surprising him with a sudden burst of courage

.ᐟ is the kind of lover to tease playfully and give praise where it’s due

.ᐟ don’t be fooled by that act that he only gives, he’s secretly obsessed with receiving some special, attentive attention and the husky groans are well worth hearing every time

[stealthyrenegains]

I know what you’re thinking… you wanna renegade. But you need some stealth and gains. 🤔

Here comes the “In the Right Way” Push-Ups Program (Part 1)

(don’t worry, we’ve all been there). What gives?

Gains require sacrifices.

And nobody wants to hear that truth.

This workout program will empower you to train your discipline yourself.

After 6 months of each step, if this doesn’t work for you, you are allowed to break the rules and go back to an old habit. In fact, it can be good to do so to truly see that the same things hold less power over you.

I'm so convinced that this will work for you, though, that you won’t want to go back to your same old habits after the 6 months are up for each step in the same way.

There is a method to this madness, trust me. And I’m about to break it down for you:

Spend each step for 6 months. Between each of these steps, wait 4 weeks to get used to it before moving on to the next one, still replacing the old habit with the new one: push-ups to purge the absolute frack out of your demons.

So you’ll start the first step and hold that for a month before moving to the next step. The idea is that the steps will compound. You are not to let go of ANY step before 6 months.

The full version is not available yet, but once you’ve arrived at the sixth one, keep holding each step for 6 months until the continued version of this is released. There are 6 more hellish steps to go through after these 6. They're all free.

The reward? Freakin’ earning it. You’ll never be so happy to do a push-up in your life once all is said and done.

And more: more mindfulness, a personal sense of accomplishment, more focus, more intention, and more connection.

The Steps to Death by Push-Ups:

No Deceptions, no escapism

Focus on work and daily routines. Your dreams are not a reality unless you make them work.

The bad habit: escapism.

Any time you dip into escapism (thoughts of self-sabotage, falling prey to patterns of personal addiction to what numbs your thought-processes like mindless scrolling, thoughts of escaping your comfort zone), you are to do 9 push-ups right away.

2. No ego, no self

Focus on how you can foster healthy and well-balanced relationships. Take into consideration your partner's needs or whoever falls on your intimate path. Work on a balanced perspective and on compromise. Consider your true values to foster peace and harmony with others.

The bad habit: narcissism, excess vanity, and unjust selfishness. 🪞

Any time you catch yourself staring at a mirror for looking at a mirror to check yourself out or flex, any time you redirect conversations back to yourself, and any time you seek validation, you need to do 9 push-ups right away. Your gains won’t be a show-stopper unless your face is imperceptible from blood, sweat, and tears. 😤🩸

3. No false security, no new material possessions

Focus on transformation. Investigate what’s suspicious in your life. Now’s the time to destroy what you don’t need.

The bad habit: buying things you don’t really need, just to fill up a void inside you. 🫠

Any time you make a frivolous purchase on some material item, big or small, you gotta do 9 push-ups right away.

4. No environmental audience, no short journeys

Realize that the path to long-term success is a long one. That’s how this whole thing is going to feel like. 😴 Find religious verses for the inspiration that you need. Transcend simple communication and seek something higher. You will probably need this after the above steps. 😏

The bad habit: gossiping and having scattered focus.

Any time you engage in gossip or try to do too many things at once, do 9 push-ups right away.

5. No emotional instability, no overattachment to the past

Overidentification to your family and traditions can hinder your soul’s development. Now’s the time to focus on your career and what it is that YOU want for yourself.

The bad habit: letting other people define your needs and wants.

Any time you experience emotional turmoil or emotional outbursts, especially in your home environment, do 9 push-ups right away.

6. No external validation, no fear of self-expression

Let’s face it, when we need external validation, we are more afraid to express who it is we really are. Well, in this step, we’re throwing that need out the window so that we can express who it is we truly are. 🥹

The bad habit: caring what other people think.

Any time you stalk someone on social media, any time you check your phone to see if your gym crush texted you back, do 9 push-ups right away.

You may start off by doing several push-ups a day. That’s exactly great. That means you’re really mindful. Don’t give up! Keep building those gains. 💪🏼Are you ready? If you said no, you’re totally ready. 😈If you said yes, I think you may be underestimating this… either way, after 6 months of each, you’ll be unrecognizable in a very good way.

[batsandbugs]

Bruce Wayne's Headache Classification System

IKEA VERSE

AN: So... three parts has now turned into a five-part. Hope that's okay. I thought I could wait to publish the entire conversation between Bruce and the boys, but I'm. Still. Working. On. It. So, y'all are getting the first of three parts to this frankly epic retelling of the IKEA events from the boy's perspective. So Yes I continue the IcedAquarius's old tradition of increasing my chapter counts. I would apologize, but I doubt any of you are mad. 😁The second part should be out... relatively soon. I'm not making any promises but it shouldn't be a month again. I'm getting close. As always enjoy!

(P.S. As always Jason Todd is being written as if played by Jensen Ackles, I'm sorry I don't make the rules!)

Chapter 2

Bruce lingers at the dining room’s doorway, secure in the shadows the dim lighting casts, observing his battlefield with intense precision.

The twenty-two-seater, solid wood table, lies buried in papers, folders, and a grand collection of coffee mugs and tumblers. In the middle, Tim resides in the carnage, staring deeply into the void of his computer. Dark eye bags, greasy hair, and occasional eye twitch clear outward signs of his severely worsening exhaustion.

His son’s chronic insomnia stemmed from a variety of issues; habit, necessity, and a factor of uncontrollable circumstance. Sometimes Tim just couldn’t fall asleep. Bruce would insist on medication if it would work on his strung-out son. It doesn’t. They tried.

Maybe less coffee.

As if sensing Bruce’s thoughts, Tim’s hand reflexively tightens around his current mug. He takes a long sip of whatever liquid is inside – ideally water, but probably coffee – and cradles the mug close with all the ferocity of a mother lioness protecting her cub.

Bruce steps inside.

Newspaper clutched in hand.

“Good afternoon, Tim,” he greets. Lunch passed hours ago. 

“Hey Bruce,” Tim replies, not looking up from his screen. “Invasion or coup?”

“It was a coup; I’ll drop you the files.” Tim grunts in acknowledgment. “Can you answer me something?”

“Sure.”

Bruce shakes the paper. “What is this?”

Tim’s eyes still scan across the screen. “Well, it sounds like a piece of paper, but I assume you’re referring to what’s on the paper?”

The headache drops in all at once, starting at the crown of Bruce’s head and sinking through his poor abused brain until it lands on his shoulders. Tightening every muscle seizing them until he’s nothing more than a walking ball of nerves.

This is his My-children-are-about-to-cause-me-untold-hassles headache.

“Tim.”

Bloodshot eyes finally look up. Tim tilts his head like a confused bird. “Why are you reading a physical newspaper, Bruce? Are you finally experiencing your mid-life crisis and trying to act like, a hipster or something?”

“I’m always in crisis.”

“Same.”

Bruce represses the urge to sigh with a deep concern for his son. “Tim…”

“Why are you getting your news from a paper? We’re in the 21st century. You have a phone and media accounts. I know you do, I made them.”

Bruce lays the paper down on the crowded table and decides to play his son’s game. He plucks his phone out of his pocket.

“Okay, fine.” Swiftly opening up Twitter, already loaded with trending stories. “Care to explain to me why there is a video of you, barefoot, and Jason, with a nerf gun, arguing political philosophies on a shopping cart in the middle of an IKEA trending on Twitter?”

Tim’s brow furrows with a detached perplexity. “We’re still trending? I thought it would drop in rank hours ago.”

“The video has thirty-eight million views.”

“Last I saw it yesterday it only had nineteen million.”

“Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne.”

Tim leans his chair back on two legs. Vivid memories of Alfred smacking Bruce’s knuckles for the same action come to mind. “Oh, wow full name. Look I haven’t slept ever since Dick dragged me out of bed at eight in the morning for his demented version of family bonding time two days ago. Three newspapers, two broadcasting companies, and all of Twitter want an official statement on whatever the hell happened.” Tim snags a file, presumably holding those requests, and waves it around like the frying pan he most definitely wants to wield against said media outlets.

“I don’t even know what the hell happened! I was too busy being set on fire and held hostage by security for an hour while Damian and his little girlfriend wreaked havoc across the store.” Abandoning the file, he reaches for his coffee mug and shoots back the caffeinated sludge’s last remains like one does hard liquor.

Bruce’s brain goes blissfully still for one moment, before doubling the intensity of his headache.

“Damian’s… girlfriend?” Oh, Bruce is so having words with Alfred about this later. He should have wrung the man for every last detail instead of walking into this mess of a conversation blind.  

Tim laughs; high, manic, and incredulous. “Oh, yeah. Her. Haven’t managed to find a single drop of information about her beyond her name, that she attends fashion design school, here, in Gotham for some godforsaken reason. Especially when, get this, she’s French, and her parents run a fucking famous bakery in Paris. She doesn’t exist, she’s a ghost. I’m pretty sure it’s the damn magic.”

Nope, his headache has quickly gone from My-children-are-about-to-cause-me-untold-hassles to I-am-not-mentally-or-emotionally-preared-to-handle-this-chaos. “Magic?”

Tim leans in, his left eye twitching rapidly. “Yeah, she said her powers only affected situational probability, but considering Damian’s been glued to his phone ever since, and smiling, I call bullshit. He’s obsessed. Hook, line, and sinker. I still think it’s bewitchment, but the demon brat won’t hear a negative word against her.” Tim – clad in a wrinkled, singed cardigan – gestures to his arm. The sleeve is ripped. “He threw a knife at me.”

A clatter in the hallway connecting the kitchen to the dining room interrupts the conversation, and a second later Jason walks through the door carrying a plate heaped high with nachos, and an entire liter of diet coke. His dark grey shirt reads, ‘I’m just here to establish an alibi.’

“What’cha two talkin’ ‘bout?” he asks, taking a seat on the table’s other side. “Oh, hey Bruce, glad to see you’re not dead in space, or whatever.”

“Thank you, Jason,” says Bruce, the tension in his shoulders growing tighter the longer this conversation continues. Bruce takes a seat three chairs down from Tim. Bandaged ribs still aching from slamming against an alien tank. 

“I’m giving Bruce the report on Damian’s girlfriend, and his subsequent bewitchment.”

“Oh, not too sure on the last part, but she sure as shit is just as demented as him. Is Dickie here? He needs to be here for this.” Placing down his plate he grabs his phone. “Never mind I’ll call him.”

The call picks up quickly. “What’s up, Jaybird?” says Dick, sounding a little out of breath.

“Hey, B wants a sitrep on your grand family bonding activity and Damian’s magical French girlfriend.”

“Oh, shit.”

Jason's grin is wide and sharklike. “Yeah, get your ass to the big dining room, golden boy. You’re not leaving us to take the fall for your screwup.”

“Um…”

“Don’t make me hunt you down, Dick,” Jason warns, brandishing a nacho at the phone like a tiny knife. “I will do it, don’t test me.”

“Dick, if you could please come here and explain to me what happened,” Bruce says, trying to keep his calm. He loves his children… Even if they are currently driving him up a wall.

Dick sighs, the sound crackles through the tiny speaker. “Yeah, sure give me a second.” The call disconnects.

“Damian should be involved as well,” Bruce says. Concern and trepidation are familiar friends for Bruce - although a particular big blue Boy Scout might call it paranoia - the idea his youngest son might be enchanted inspires both in extreme measures. However, Tim and Jason appear more annoyed and salty rather than terrifyingly concerned for their younger brother’s peace of mind, so Bruce isn’t willing to jump to conclusions. 

At least not without all the evidence.

“Nah, you want to hear from us before dealing with his ass. Besides he keeps gettin’ pissed every time I mention his girlfriend.”

Tim leans back farther in his chair. “Might have something to do with you calling her a bitch. Or a liar. Or both.”

“Whatever,” grumbles Jason, grabbing another nacho. “He’s overly sensitive, and he’s not even here right now. And I got shit to do today, so either we’re doin’ this now, or you’re outta luck on a full sitrep.” Bruce knows from experience his second eldest will walk away if this goes on too long.

“Fine, I’ll question Damian later,” Bruce cedes.

Jason nods. “Cool. How’s the media fallout, Replacement?”

Tim massages his temples with a frazzled half-groan, half-choked sound. “Rabid and spiraling out of control. Did I ever say what a good idea it was to bring you back to life officially? I would be in literal hell right now if we didn’t.”

“Still don’t think it’s worth the galas. I’m not gala material.”

Raising an eyebrow in a distinctly Alfred-like manner, Tim says, “You made that perfectly clear after you spiked the punch at the charity gala two months ago, called Mrs. Mariano a “festering boil on the devil’s ass” and insinuated she stole money from sick children.” Bruce remembers that. Frankly, the insult was a little weak on Jason’s part.

Jason gasps, placing his hand against his chest. “Timmy, shame on you, you need to get your facts straight. I didn’t insinuate. I sent records of her emails proving she stole money from sick kids to the press and printed up copies to hand out.”

Tim gestures his hand with a flourish in Jason’s direction. “Do you see what kind of children you are raising, Bruce?” Although everyone silently agrees Jason did the right thing, Tim complained long and hard about how long it took to mop up the PR disaster.

“I didn’t teach him that,” Bruce says, defending himself.

He didn’t.

He taught Jason to be much sneakier. Subtlety was never his second son’s strongest area though. 

“No, you just taught me how to free fall off thirty-story buildings, hack into government agencies, disarm bombs, and emotional repression.” Jason unscrews the cap on the liter of diet coke and takes a long sip. “The paranoia and over-preparedness come from the trauma, which admittedly’s not all your fault, but pretty close.”

Bruce wants to rub his temple to relieve pressure but it won’t help, he knows it won’t help.

“And your innate need for drama and theatricality?” Tim asks.

Jason grins, “Well that’s just all me, Timmy-boy. Why bother doin’ anything if ya don’t do it with style.”

“Sure, style.” Tim scoffs with a patronizing smile. “The same style that implies day drinking’s a fine idea?”

This time Bruce does not refrain from bringing a hand to his face to massage to bridge of his nose. “Jason what’s in the bottle?”

An audible swallow follows a swish of liquid. “Nothing you can prove.”

A door on the dining room’s opposite side opens, pausing the conversation. Dick slinks in wearing bright neon workout clothes, his hair half done up in a messy bun.

He has the same hand-in-cookie-jar expression on his face as he did at eleven when he snuck three baby raccoons into the Cave and tried to keep them a secret. A feat lasting all of forty-three minutes before Alfred discovered them. “Heeeey Bruce, glad your back in one piece. Soooo, how’s space?”

“Dick…” Bruce sighs, staring at his son for a long moment, unimpressed. His headache pulsing in time to his heartbeat.  

His eldest son drops into a chair next to Jason, sprawling in the way only an acrobat trained from birth could. “In my defense, we were left unsupervised.”

“You’re thirty-two.”

Dick shakes his hand in a so-so manner as if his current state of adulthood is a mutable factor. “I mean by an adultier-adult, one who actually knows what they’re doing. Not me.”

Bruce shakes his head, not wanting to touch that statement. “I don’t mind the bonding, but you all have an entire estate to use however you want, a transporter that takes you anywhere on earth in the basement, and access to a private jet. Why on Earth did you pick an IKEA forty-five minutes outside of the city?”

Dick halfheartedly shrugs, sinking lower in the chair. “Seemed like a good idea at the time?”

Bruce pins Tim and Jason with a questioning stare. “And you two?”

Jason grins, holding up his liter bottle of what Bruce is one-hundred percent certain is some kind of alcohol. “I live for the chaos.” He knocks back the liter bottle again, holding onto the neck for dear life. Oh great, if even his most chaotic child – arguably – needs a drink to fortify himself for the conversation ahead, Bruce holds no hope for his headache receding anytime soon.

“My complaints were ignored. I was forced to participate against my will,” Tim complains, wrinkling his nose with a hint of annoyance. Messy, greased hair falls over his eyes, while his head rests on top of an empty tumbler cup. Blue eyes drooping heavily. After this conversation, Bruce needs to manhandle Tim into bed so he can pass out.

“And Damian?” Bruce asks.

All three freeze stockstill at the mention of the group’s fourth missing member. Bruce didn’t think his headache could grow stronger.

It could.

At this rate, it will turn into a full-blown migraine, and then he doesn’t care whether Alfred wants him out of bed and acting like a functioning adult and father. He plans to head straight back to sleep. 

He takes a breath and plunges ahead into the fray. 

If you want to read this on ao3 you can click here!

(Pst... If you think I'm great and my writing is entertaining, maybe check this out!)

Tag List

@a-slytherinish-gryffindor @hammalammadamdam

[cadabria]

Come Wayward Souls || The Beast x GN! Reader

PROLOGUE

"Come, wayward souls,

Who wander through the darkness,

There is a light for the lost and the meek,

Sorrow and fear are easily forgotten,

When you submit to the soil of the earth."

These were the verses that once echoed hauntingly throughout these now decrepit forests during the nightfall, an enchanting tune filled with vacant and unfulfilled promises, sugar-coated words sung so tantalizingly by a being that nobody dared to speak of. They did not know of the true name of this entity, but with quivering lips they simply called it by the only thing befitting such an unspeakable monster...

"The Beast".

Yet two of the last wayward souls, a pilgrim and a charming little boy with his slippery, croaking companion, who just as many unwary children before them embarked into the seemingly endless unknown brought with them a shimmer of hope, of life, and were guided through their journey by a single bluebird. It was not long before they stumbled across the mournful woodsman, who was entrapped in the silver threads of The Beast.

The Beast, clever and ceaselessly working behind the scenes, kept a watchful eye on the lost boys for many days and many nights. His pull on the woodsman's strings weakened, and it was not long before the true source of the Edelwood was realized... And for the first time, the woodsman refused to accept The Beast's bargains.

Grow, tiny seed,

You are gone to the trees,

"Give me my lantern." The deep, deceivingly soothing voice of The Beast bellowed from the void of the forest, hollowed milky eyes piercing through the glooming darkness.

"Your lantern...?" The pilgrim questioned, before the bluebird interjected.

"No way, we need this thing!"

Rise,

'Till your leaves fill the sky,

Contemplating for merely a moment, the pilgrim agreed,"Yeah, i'm keeping this! I have to get Greg home."

"Your brother is too weak to go home." The Beast stated firmly, raising his hands to emphasize his words,"He will soon become a part of my forest."

Clutching the lantern's handle tightly, the pilgrim kept his gaze firm on The Beast, outwardly he was determined, but on the inside he could feel the anxiety creeping in, slow like a snake stalks its prey,"I won't let that happen!"

Until your sights,

Fill the air in the night,

The Beast leaned down slightly, his glowing pearly orbs unblinkingly striking deep into the pilgrim's weary soul,"Well then, perhaps we better make a deal."

As the woodsman wailed weakly, limp on the unforgiving soil and barely conscious, the conversation continued,"Deal?" The pilgrim uttered, uncertain.

"I can put his spirit in the lantern. As long as the flame stays lit, he will live on inside." With a hand as black as the starless sky, The Beast extends it towards our pilgrim,"Take on the task of lantern bearer... Or watch your brother perish."

Lift your mighty limbs,

And give praise,

The pilgrim's gaze lowers to the lantern in his hand, a look of defeat crosses his expression as he allows a low sigh to cross his lips. He was willing to sacrifice anything for his dearest brother.

"Okay."

The bluebird tried to gain the pilgrim's attention, however her words were but muffled sounds, empty and devoid of meaning in that very moment. That was, until... The pilgrim came to a sudden realization. Snatching the lantern back before The Beast could hook his claws into him... His stare hardened.

To the fire...

"Wait. That's dumb." The pilgrim argued, taking a few steps away from the shadowy figure that towered menacingly above him.

Although unseen, a sickening sneer appeared on The Beast's expression,

"What?"

"That's dumb! I'm not just gonna wander around in the woods for the rest of my life." The pilgrim continued, keeping his gaze stern.

The Beast loomed closer, his usual deep, hauntingly calm voice turning into something more deadly... Menacing and filled with a promise of the most deadliest of torments. "I'm trying to help you."

Connecting the details, it took only a moment for the pilgrim to put the pieces together, and for The Beast's guise to bleed into a puddle across the cold earth beneath them,"You're not trying to help me. You just have some weird obsession with keeping this lantern lit. It's almost like... Your soul is in this lantern."

Dramatically, the air shifts, becoming deathly cold and suffocating as The Beast let's out an ear-splitting growl that shakes the trees around them with an earth shattering force. His body violently contorts in a mixture of foul, disgustingly unfathomable horrors and the pilgrim is subjected to the whims of his darkness as the light that illuminates from the lantern dissipates abruptly.

A look of terror crosses the poor pilgrim's face, as The Beast's form grows higher and higher, his now distorted voice scathing against his ears like hot coals,"Are you ready to see true darkness?"

Shaking with horror, and voice wavering, the pilgrim does not back down,"A-Are you...?" He cleared his voice, before standing his ground more firmly. He narrows his eyes, pulling the glass open on the lantern,"Are you?" With a deep inhale, he readies to blow out the lantern's intense flame.

Suddenly, The Beast retracts,"Don't...! Don't!" The desperation was clear, and it was abundantly obvious our pilgrim uncovered the harsh truth. The Beast was a liar, a deceiver, and the woodsman was merely a tool to prolong his inevitable end. With a scoff, the pilgrim handed the woodsman the lantern to deal with The Beast on his own. For the pilgrim cared for one thing and one thing only right now: His brother.

Breaking his brother free from the branches of the Edelwood, it was now merely the woodsman and The Beast.

The Beast attempted to ensnare the woodsman into his strings once more, but they were all but cut off, irreparable. No longer would the woodsman be his puppet and him the puppeteer, and in a fit of anguish and seething rage, the woodsman blew out the flame forevermore so that The Beast could never come to harm anyone ever again. He destroyed the lantern and threw it down a river, where it sunk to its depths and was swept away by the currents to never be seen. To never return.

All the wayward souls were finally free, the horrors of The Beast lost within time and soon to be long forgotten.

... Or at least, that was how it should have been.