#DOOMSDAY IS APPROACHING.

[l3m0n-c0r3]

whos ready for ii18 gang.. heh... he- heheh.. im not!!! grins /silly

[moraymoth]

[myxomato515]

comparing s1-3 of south park to s7-9 is insane. like back then you’d get 10 episodes in a row of the town being put in a fucking calamitous situation like the snake destroying town or the chicken pox epidemic or pinkeye zombies what the fuck was up back then

[eowyn35-blog]

Does anyone else feel like we moved past The Twilight Zone and straight into The Outer Limits?

[flowergardeninthewall]

i swear to god I have gotten closer and closer to just fully ranting about internet content strategy. i feel this may be one of my final straws

[loadsofcats]

Incredibly funny that upon thinking how to depict Azazello, the “Конец света” team decided to make him a tiktok enby twink. And it worked

[chuluoyi]

𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐀𝐍

- sylus x reader

when your husband went away without so much as a proper notice, you thought you wouldn't forgive him so easily. but he tries everything to capture your heart back: spoiling and indulging you… little do you know that he expects a reward in return

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—rotten fluff, domestic bliss, explicit smut, cunnilingus, fingering, mating press, taking elements from sylus' card night of secrecy, secret times approaching dusk and spoilers! from myth beyond cloudfall

note: my first sylus x mc fic! with this i'm spreading the soft!sylus agenda and that spicy 4-star approaching dusk has destroyed me :') loosely based on this post

Sometimes, you do wonder... does Sylus really think you're that easy to placate?

On one chilly morning, you woke up only to discover your hunk of a husband gone... and in his side of the bed, a sticky note.

Your eyebrow twitched as you read the audacious message scrawled on it:

Hey, kitten. I need to leave for a few days. There are things I have to handle on my own. Take care of yourself while I’m away. I’ll come back soon.

That was it. No clear explanation, no further details. Just those vague words in such short notice. The day before, he’d seemed like his usual self, not a hint of this sudden departure in sight.

It irked you. It made your heart clench at the same time. Because even after marrying you, Sylus remained elusive, playing his cryptic games. It was beyond you how he didn't even stop to consider how you were left worrying about him while he drifted in and out of his dangerous world without a second thought.

You understood the reality of your lives—that you were a hunter and he was the Onychinus leader, and that to be with him meant you had to walk that fine gray line between light and dark.

And you'd already made your choice. You had accepted it—accepted him—wholly. Even when your marriage had been a rushed affair and registered under false names to protect both your identities.

Things couldn't go on like this. You had to teach him a lesson too.

As your irritation simmered into determination, a devious plan began to take shape in your mind—a way to spite him just enough to make your point crystal clear.

Two days later

Sylus was done with his dirty business faster than he thought, and to appease you, he had come bearing gifts.

The precious little thing that is now his wife, of course he missed you too. But your safety was a price he wasn’t willing to gamble. If going away to take care of those pests meant your peace would be unperturbed, then he would leave without hesitation.

However, as he stepped inside the base, his relief quickly turned to unease. The space was eerily empty, the usual hum of activity conspicuously absent.

Normally, you’d be at the center of some commotion, locked in a spat with either Mephisto, or Luke and Kieran. But now—

“What do we do?! She’s gone!”

Sylus immediately rushed to the source of the ruckus, thinking something bad had happened to you. He found his henchmen standing in a tight, anxious circle around the coffee table.

“What happened?” he demanded.

Without a word, they stepped aside, revealing the object of their concern: a single note lying on the table.

He snatched it up, scanning the words. Then, he let out a sharp exhale of relief, a smirk began tugging at the corners of his lips.

Catch me if you can.

Typical. Absolutely typical. And maddeningly you.

. . .

That night, you had a very strange dream, it felt almost felt like stepping into the pages of an ancient tale.

You were a fallen princess wrongfully accused as a sorceress, who began consorting with the fearsome fiend from the Abyss.

The sorceress and her dragon. Together, you were an infamous pair, a dark legend whispered across generations. Your union had ignited Doomsday itself... and yet, amidst the turmoil and destruction, the sorceress fell in love with the dragon... deeply and irrevocably.

The dragon, in turn, was utterly bewitched by his little witch. He indulged your every whim, no matter how mischievous or perilous, and though he rarely spoke of his true feelings, he always found ways to show his affection.

The lucid dream felt as though it might go on forever, but you were pulled from it by the soft brush of lips against your forehead. The warmth lingered, blurring the lines between dream and reality, until your eyes fluttered open.

“Sylus...?” His features, fresh from your dream, now materialized in your reality. It took you a few seconds to realize that he had come here—

“Morning, sweetie.” His voice was rich and smooth, with that familiar, mischievous edge. A smirk curled on his devilishly handsome face as he leaned in, garnet eyes gleaming with playful intent. “Caught you now, hmm?”

The haze of sleep vanished in an instant, and you were suddenly wide awake. In a flurry, you shoved him away and turned your back on him, trying to regain some semblance of control.

You’d left the N109 Zone for one of his safehouses in suburban Chansia City, thinking it would take him some effort to track you down. Clearly, you’d underestimated him.

“Oh. The kitten is in a bad mood, it seems.” Sylus’ gaze lingered on you, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Well, what do I owe the ire for?”

“...”

“Silent treatment, huh? The lady of the house is getting better at our little games while I was away.”

“...”

“Remember, sweetie, there’s no divorce in our relationship, hmm? If you’re tired of me, keep taking naps.”

You felt the weight shift as he rose from the bed and stalked away. The door clicked shut, leaving you in the silence of the room.

You wanted to resent him for coming and going on his terms, for never offering even an apology. Yet, no matter how much you tried, a part of you remained hopelessly tethered to him. The part that couldn’t ignore the reminder of the dragon from your dream—captivating, powerful, and infuriatingly hard to resist.

You love him, really you do.

. . .

When you didn’t come down for breakfast some time later, Sylus barged into the room once again, and this time he came up with a different approach.

“My lady,” he began, his voice sickeningly low and sweet, but his eyes gleamed with a touch of mischief. “You haven’t had breakfast yet. Please come down.”

You shot him a look, unamused, and decided to play his game as you crossed your arms together. “What if I don't want to?”

His smirk only grew, his tone dripping with mock formality. “And what must I do to change your mind?”

Despite yourself, you couldn’t help but notice his persistence. He had chased you here, given you more time to sleep in, and now stood before you to get you to eat. You felt your resolve beginning to soften—maybe just a little.

“Carry me there,” you said with a hint of defiance, lifting your chin high, daring him to follow through.

Sylus tilted his head, failing to restrain his snort. “As you wish, my lady.”

He placed his arms around you effortlessly, one hand beneath your knees and the other supporting your back, lifting you into a flawless princess carry. You instinctively put your arms around his neck, and he turned to you.

You opened your mouth, ready to fire off a sharp retort, but before you could, he dived in—

Smooch!

—and planted a bold, wet kiss on your lips. You, wide-eyed, punched his chest in retaliation. “Sylus!”

He chuckled, entirely unfazed. “Careful now, sweetie. Wiggle too much, and you’ll fall.”

He carried you downstairs, effortlessly navigating each step with you still in his arms. Once there, he gently set you down onto the dining chair, and that was when you noticed the table.

Salad, slightly burnt toast, scrambled eggs, milk—simple dishes by all means, but the thought the big, bad Sylus making them?

Wait. When you arrived last night, this place was a dusty shell, and the refrigerator had practically nothing—

“You cleaned the place?” you asked, your tone laced with surprise as your turned from the spotless room to him.

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Why is that so surprising? I can cook and clean just like everyone else.”

It sent a wave of warmth through your chest. He’d prepared food and cleaned the place knowing you’d be hungry and uncomfortable with dust all around.

You huffed, trying to hide how your heart fluttered. “No, your cooking skills are questionable at best.”

As if to prove you wrong, Sylus disappeared into the pantry and reemerged with a tray of warm, freshly baked dough that filled the room with a heavenly aroma.

“You are... baking?” You approached him, mystified at the sight of your husband, who usually at the scene of crime, behind the counter and started frosting the cupcakes.

He set the frosting bag down and picked up a cupcake, holding it to your lips with a teasing smile. “Here. Open up.”

Dutifully, you nibbled on the cupcake, and the sweetness immediately spread into your mouth. “It's tasty,” you mumbled, blinking at him. His eyes crinkled with satisfaction as he gestured toward the tray.

“Go have some more.”

Grinning, you grabbed another cupcake and eagerly took a bite. Munching away, you missed how Sylus’ gaze softened, his bright red eyes focused solely on you.

He couldn't resist pinching your full cheeks at that moment.

“Sy-wus!” you protested, glaring at him. His laughter broke free that instant, warm and unrestrained.

Utterly funny, utterly precious—that’s what you were to him.

Indignant, you scooped up some icing from the cupcake and smeared it right across his face. The stunned look he gave you was priceless, and before he could react, you burst into a fit of giggles and bolted out of the kitchen.

But as you reached the base of the stairs, a strong arm caught your waist from behind, halting your escape. You squealed in surprise, “Noooo!”

Sylus leaned closer and pressed you to his chest, his voice rumbling in your ear. “Ha. Did you really think you could get away that easily?”

He lifted you up with one arm and brought you back to the kitchen, setting you down on the counter and trapping you in place with his arms braced on either side. His eyes sparkled with mirth as he leaned in, and with a grin, he bumped his frosting-smeared nose against yours, leaving a sticky smudge.

“This is unfair!” you protested, still caught in a fit of giggles as you looped your arms around his neck for balance. Sylus chuckled along with you, his gaze steady and warm, never leaving yours.

Being with Sylus in the kitchen like this, savoring simple meals and smearing each other with frosting, it made you realize that you craved this domestic bliss more than you thought.

As the laughter subsided and you both settled into the quiet, your expression softened, all your previous grievances forgotten. The tenderness in your eyes said everything you didn’t need words for, and Sylus could see it clearly—you adored him, just as much as he adored you.

The one who gazed into his jewel-like eyes, embraced his burning soul and sang to him in the night wind... is once again in his arms. A part of him was almost sentimental at the thought.

Instinctively, he closed the distance between you, his lips hovering just a breath away from yours. But as they were about to meet, he paused, as if hesitating, leaving you puzzled.

Then, without a second thought—

To hell with it.

You chose to abandon all senses. You seized the moment—yanking him to you and capturing his lips, claiming him for yourself.

“…!” Suck, suck, bite, suck— You were relentless, and you didn't really know why. At first, even he was taken aback, but then his hand slipped behind your head, fingers threading through your hair as he deepened the kiss, his tongue tangling with yours in an intoxicating rhythm.

“Mmm...” You sneakily began to undo the buttons of his shirt one by one, your fingertips grazing his warm skin with each deliberate motion. Feeling it, Sylus broke the kiss just enough to smirk, his voice husky. “Getting bold, aren’t we?”

But before you could respond, his hands trailed down your sides, firmly pulling you closer, leaving no space between the two of you. His gaze burned with desire, as if daring you to keep going.

Then, without warning, his lips began their descent, grazing your jaw softly before trailing down to your neck and chest, leaving a trail of warmth and shivers across your skin. The feeling was intoxicating, even as his hair tickled you, making it hard to focus on anything but him.

“Ahh,” you couldn’t help but sigh, pressing him closer.

His lips left wet marks on your neck, and he whispered, “Now tell me... what made you so upset that you left home?”

When you didn't answer right away, one of his hand slid beneath your blouse, unhooking your bra and grazed your skin—

“You... keep coming and going as you please...” you stammered, feeling him begin to cup and squeeze your breasts, your breath growing erratic.

Sylus bit down on the skin at the nape of your neck, and you almost gasped.

“It's almost as if— Mmm—” The way he fondled your chest made the space between your legs grow warmer. “—you wouldn’t... miss m-me at all...”

How untrue. He stopped his ministrations, and the steel behind those eyes you loved so much met your gaze once again.

His wife was a mess of sweat already. He swiftly hooked your thighs around his waist and claimed your lips once more. With effortless movement, Sylus guided you to the long recliner in the room, laying you down there, still lost in the heat of the kiss. His hand intertwined with yours, pinning you to the soft surface.

“So...” he rasped, breathless against your lips, “You’re upset that I didn't miss you when I was away...”

His other hand worked to unzip your skirt. “But don’t you know? I... was worried about my wife getting into trouble when I wasn’t with her too... That’s why I was in a hurry to go home...”

Sylus pulled away, both of you panting for air, and he took a moment to savor the sight of your glazed eyes.

“But then I couldn't find her anywhere.” His voice was low and taunting, trailing his fingers on your belly. “I made it back as soon as I could, just like I told you and you are the one who misbehaved... Don’t you think I deserve something as a compensation?”

It took you three solid seconds to realize that the lower half of your body was now exposed. Your husband parted your legs and settled his face between them, pressing a kiss on your knee.

“So I believe at the very least... I deserve this.”

He dived straight for your clit then and you let out a loud gasp.

“Ngh! Aaah...!” You let out incoherent moans as he devoured your folds, lost in the cloudy haze of pleasure. It didn’t take long to unravel you at all.

“Mmnh—!” Your eyes almost rolled to the back of your head. Ticklish, hot, wet— all in all, it felt like a sin, but you just had to get this heavenly taste. “…a-ah!”

Sylus felt how you were this close to get your orgasm, so he moved faster, licking and sucking your clit, while adding a couple of fingers to bring you to the peak faster. You unconsciously moved your hips against his face— too far gone to be thinking anything else, grasping the leather of the sofa and pulling his hair—

“Ahh— S-Sylus!” And then you came hard, screaming his name, feeling how much it was— were you squirting?

You didn't know, didn't care either, as it was the sight of his ruby eyes that grounded you. You were spent, spread on the sofa (most probably ruined it, even), your chest heaving to catch your breath.

Sylus let out a low rumble as he wiped your juices off his lips with a thumb and tasted it, looking so sinfully sexy like a forbidden fruit while at it.

“You said... I wouldn't miss you.” He traced one finger on your face with such tenderness. “Now, I'm going to show you, and you'll be judge of it. Are you sure you don't want me to stop?”

If you said no, he would comply. That was the kind of person he was and you knew it. Sylus had always looked out for you since the very beginning, no matter how nonchalant he made himself to be.

“No.” You met his eyes, your voice steady. “Show me.”

It was the only affirmation he needed. He began unbuckling his belt and pants, keeping his unclouded gaze on yours, and soon he too was bare before you.

He was thick and long, and while you had taken him many times, it was never fully easy to ease the intrusion. His tip was already slick with precum, and he spread it along his length.

“You know the rule,” he murmured with a meaningful smile. “If it becomes too much, you scream, and I'll stop.”

He positioned himself at your entrance, sliding in slowly. The sharpness of the stretch seeped into you bit by bit, and you couldn't help but groan.

“—!” A sharp hiss escaped you as he fully sheathed himself inside, hitting that sensitive spot. Had your eyes deceived you, or was there a slightly noticeable bulge in your belly from where he was?

Sylus seemed to notice it too, but he folded your knees, spreading you further. His gaze intense and filled with something deep, something possessive. The room seemed to narrow, your entire focus consumed by him as he settled in close.

“Eyes on me, kitten.” He gave you a smile, and with that, he started pounding you—

“Ah, hah, ahhh!” You couldn't stop moaning beneath him as he thrusted into you. The feeling of him so deep inside, coupled with the way you tightened around him, sent waves of blind pleasure through you.

Sylus’ eyes darkened, his jaw clenched as he watched you squirm under him. Your skin glistened with the heat of the moment, and the sound of your breaths, frantic and needy, filled the room. His control slipped, just a little, as he pushed deeper, his movements faster, chasing the release that quickly building within both of you.

A pretty mess, his wife is. Your face contorted in a mix of pleasure and pain as he bred you, and he swore, of everything he had gone through, this look in your face was always worth it.

“Sylus—!” you almost wailed, nails digging into his back, and he growled, knowing full-well that he was finally losing it.

Just like that he shot his cum straight to your womb, his own body shuddering, thoroughly rutting into you. You cried, tears falling from your lashes as you too reached your climax.

Full, too full... Yet you knew that you wouldn't have it another way.

. . .

It felt warm and comforting.

Your eyes fluttered open hours later, and the first thing you noticed was Sylus' sleeping face, and that you were now in the bedroom.

He looked so vulnerable like this. You couldn’t help but be drawn to how serene and unguarded he was, a side of him that only you got to see. Even in his sleep, his arms were wrapped around your waist, as if to protect you from anything that might disturb your rest.

Your lover... and then husband. He was rough around the edges, sometimes didn't make any sense at all, and often reckless enough to burn himself playing with fire.

“You sly crow…” You gazed at his profile, still in awe that this elusive man was your husband.

Sylus was easy to read sometimes, and you couldn’t help but smile at your earlier doubts about him. How could you not see just how deeply he was attached to you?

Just like the inseparable pair of dragon and sorceress in your dream, you knew you’d stay by his side until the very end.

Out of a playful surge of affection, you tapped his nose, and he grunted softly but didn’t wake, instead nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, seeking more of your warmth. It was cute, how he was so worn out that he sought comfort in your embrace.

You pressed a soft kiss to his forehead then, vowing with everything you had that you’d never let him go, and that with him by your side, you would definitely made this life you shared a happy one.

Several weeks later...

“Thank you, miss!”

The boy bowed his head with a wide grin as soon as you handed him the red pocket money for Linkon New Year. You waved at him, smiling warmly as he skipped away, clutching the envelope in his hands.

The festive occasion inspired you to pay a visit to a nearby orphanage, driven by a desire to share more of the joy and blessings. You brought small gifts and red envelopes, hoping to bring a little light to the children’s lives and make the celebration even more meaningful for them.

Of course, Sylus tagged along too. He was the benefactor, after all.

“Sir, thank you for your generosity.” The headmistress approached Sylus, who looked effortlessly sharp in his red suit, and gave his hand a shake. “The children are really happy with the cupcakes and pocket money.”

He merely chuckled and pointed at you with his chin. “Thank her, my wife is the one with the idea.”

You joined the conversation shortly after, and it didn’t take long for the topic to shift from the orphanage to your personal lives.

“So, do the two of you have plans to start a family soon?” the headmistress asked, her tone warm and curious. “Both of you are still young, and you're so good with kids. Having children of your own might bring even more joy into your lives.”

You mustered a polite laugh, the words to gracefully deflect her comment forming on your lips, when—

“Soon,” Sylus interjected smoothly, his arm slipping around your waist, pulling you closer. “Very soon, in fact.”

You blinked at him, startled by his bold declaration, while the headmistress’s face lit up with approval. You nudged him discreetly.

As soon as the headmistress went on her way, you turned to him with a frown. “Why would you tell her that?”

Your gaze met his, clear and utterly clueless. Sylus snorted, so tempted to pinch your cheeks, but settling instead for a tender pat on your head.

“You'll see soon enough, sweetie,” he replied, his tone laced with playful mystery.

Epilogue

It was the dead of night when a sudden wave of nausea overtook you. Stumbling out of bed, you rushed to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before retching up the contents of your stomach.

Your body trembled as you stood, dizziness threatening to topple you. Leaning heavily on the sink for support, you rinsed your mouth, trying to steady yourself. The effort left you shivering, your legs almost buckling beneath you.

Before you could even comprehend the blur in your vision, a pair of strong arms got a hold over you. “S-Sylus...?” you murmured faintly.

Without hesitation, he lifted you into his arms securely as he carried you back to the bedroom, his expression shadowed with concern.

As he settled you onto the bed, he held you close, pressing your face against his bare chest that peeked from his unbuttoned shirt. “Take deep breaths,” he urged softly, his voice grounding you.

You inhaled shakily, letting the familiar warmth of his scent calm your frayed nerves. Slowly, your breathing steadied, though the nausea still lingered in the back of your throat.

“Is it the first time?” he questioned, smoothing your hair. “Have you thrown up before?”

You shook your head. “No... I get dizzy spells but that's it... This is the first time.”

Nausea, dizziness, vomiting. It wasn't hard to piece together what it was. Amidst your dazed thoughts, the realization hit you, and you turned to your husband almost in wonder. “Sylus... a-am I...?”

Sylus broke into a smirk, ruffling your hair. “Told you. I know your period is late.”

Your heart skipped a beat—and it was the only thing you could hear in that moment. The thought that a baby would enter your lives left you briefly speechless.

“Yeah, at the rate we're going, it’s like we’re bunnies,” you quipped sullenly, trying to regain a sense of control as you leaned into his broad chest.

You really thought he would poke fun at you for your highly possible pregnancy, but instead you were taken aback when he pressed a fond, lingering kiss to the side of your head. His arms tightened around you, his soft chuckle reverberating through his chest.

And when you found his gaze again, his jewel-like eyes softened into such an extent that made your heart soar.

“Well, aren’t I the luckiest man— having this fair lady be the mother of my child?”

[the-haunted-office]

"God damn, this dude just can't get a fuckin' clue. I'M NOT HOLDING ANYBODY PRISONER. Yes, I have bonded with over a thousand other souls. Yes, they are all my alternates from other timelines. NO, they are not being held against their will. They can unbond from me at any time. Just ask Nextday if you need confirmation. She and I used to be bonded. And if you really wanna believe this asshole who just got here over me without even talking to me first, then fuck off and leave me alone!"

[many-gay-magpies]

ah fuck

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

doomsday arrives | m.g. x fem!reader

“are you sure you’ll be okay with this? i-i mean he’s a normal baby, but still, i don’t know if he’ll do something out of the ordinary.” debbie gently bounced oliver in her arms, his tiny fist clenching onto her green cardigan.

using the back of your index finger you caressed oliver’s chubby cheek, he gave a small squeal of delight. “i’ll manage. plus you said mark should be home eventually, so i won’t be alone for too long.” smiling down at the small purple baby who’s eyes shined with curiosity.

slowly you and debbie maneuvered oliver into your hold, making sure he wouldn’t become fussing without his momma. grabbing her purse by the door, debbie’s hand rested on the knob, “you have my number for anything and mark’s obviously. he’s usually pretty good at finding things that catch his interest-“

“debbie, i’ll be fine. go enjoy yourself tonight.” you looked down to oliver, “say bye bye to momma.” waving your hand and he copied the action. with that debbie left the house for a much needed night to herself leaving just the two of you for now.

“momma,” little oliver babbled as you settled yourself on the grayson’s couch. you pressed a kiss to the crown of his head, “not quite, more like sister…in law. cause i’m dating your brother.”

oliver went silent then, “momma.” close enough for tonight. you bounced him in your hold as you took small steps in the living room, “what does oliver want, huh? do you want…some food? growing baby like you probably wants more food.”

oliver started to babble again and his eyes were focused on something behind the both of you, his hands reaching out for something. furrowed brows as you looked over your shoulder to see a bright green something, then a man stepped through.

his head was enlarged and veiny, he had a crazed look swimming in his pupils. he sneered down at you while you stepped as far away from him, trying to suppress your terror and protect oliver.

“well,” his voice was thick like honey, “you don’t appear to be mrs.grayson, but you and the child will do.” he took slow, menacing steps toward you.

“what-what do you want?”

a twisted grin formed on his face, “i want invincible. and you’ll help me” before you could say anything sparks of green flickered from his fingertips and then the color envelopes you. next thing you know is that you’re underwater, drowning and loosing air, and poor oliver doesn’t understand the danger.

and your back lands hard on solid ground. you turn on your side and start coughing up water while trying to do the same for oliver, making sure he’s still breathing with his tiny lungs. the poor baby started crying after spitting up water.

“it’s-it’s okay, oliver.” shivering while trying to produce heat between your bodies. sharp eyes honed in on the intruder, “what the hell is wrong with you! what do you want with us, or mark!” pressing oliver’s face into the crook of your neck.

the man started to chuckle, “i want to make him suffer like he’s done for every other universe. he’s killed so many innocent people without a single care, and now he’s gonna understand what makes someone a villain.”

suddenly a loud crashing echoed through the grayson home. within a flash you captor was held by the throat in the air while mark stared daggers at him. “who the hell are you! and what have you done to them!” his free hand was clenched tightly into a fist at his side.

“your doom is approaching,” was all the stranger said then swallowed both of them into a green portal. the house went silent and when you thought it was safe to run, he reappeared. “going somewhere?”

“what’d you do with mark?” keeping a distance from your captor. oliver was still fussing into your neck, you kept a palm pressed to the base of his skull.

“oh, just occupied him for a little. showing him the sights,” waving a hand in the air theatrically.

“well bring him back!” almost stomping your foot in annoyance. he cocked a grin at you, “as you wish,” and opened a portal right in front of you.

there was a yelling growing louder and you didn’t have enough time to move, only turning your back and covering oliver with your body to cushion any impact from him.

“shit!” mark’s voice was behind you. you peeked over your shoulder to see him hovering just an inch from you, his chest rising and falling with heavy breathing. tears started to sting your eyes and your lip was wobbling from holding in a sob. “mark-“ leaning into his open arms.

“aw, how sweet. i don’t get to see a lot of happiness with this one involved…it’s disgusting.” now throwing the three of you through a portal. one that dropped you from the sky thousands of miles up.

“fuck!” screaming in the whipping air before there were arms under your thighs. an arm was wrapped securely behind your back while pressing your head into a solid position. you hoped your weren’t suffocating oliver with your hold.

“it’s okay, we’re okay.” you could barely hear mark talking either to everyone or just himself, it was nice to just hear the sentiment. your body was shaking from adrenaline, tears pooling from fear. “mark…i’m-i’m scared.”

a kiss was pressed into the crown of your head, “i know. i know, i’ll fix this.”

-

a/n: i wanted to write more but i just can’t find my right footing with this. so just something for the invincible drought.

[umseb]

"And yes: I am the greatest hypocrite whom there is"

In a personal interview, the German explains what he, as a former Formula 1 world champion, is doing for the environment and what he thinks about Ralf Schumacher's coming out.

It is Tuesday afternoon. Excited pupils are streaming out of a school in the Zurich lowlands. They have just had a visit from four-time Formula 1 world champion Sebastian Vettel. The German, who has lived in Switzerland since 2007 and in the canton of Thurgau since 2009, attracted attention in the last few years of his career by suddenly talking about environmental issues, such as the importance of biodiversity, or collecting rubbish from the stands after race weekends.

This Tuesday, the 37-year-old, together with Andreas Fehr, debated the topic of circular economy with four classes. Fehr is the owner of a fashion label and the topic was sustainability in the clothing industry. Vettel spoke about the possibilities of more environmentally friendly mobility. The former racing driver then took time for a personal conversation.

Sebastian Vettel, does your guilty conscience drive you?

That may have been the case at the beginning of my involvement, when I thought: Oh, I've been racing and flying around the world for so many years, that wasn't good! Nowadays, it's much more optimism that drives me.

What do you mean?

When we talk about the climate crisis, many things are very, very bad, the outlook is devastating, there is a doomsday mood. Children see their future as correspondingly bleak. It is important to me that we talk about solutions. There are lots of people who are thinking really well. Like in the textile industry, where there are so many approaches to more sustainability. Today's children are much more astute and have a greater awareness of these issues. I had no idea about it when I was young. Of course I knew that you can't just throw things away, but I didn't know anything about the meaning behind it.

How environmentally conscious are you?

I am in a position of luxury. I have the time to deal with these issues and also the opportunity to afford alternatives. Fast fashion is advertised, it is tempting to buy two or three T-shirts at once. Our aim is to show that these do not last long and that someone pays the price for them - the planet, the environment, the people involved in the production chain. It all starts with awareness. If you are aware of things, you can change something. I want to raise this awareness among children.

You were a racing driver, jetting around the world. Can you erase this huge ecological footprint?

I could do that by buying the relevant certificates. I did that before I retired in 2022. But that raises questions: Does that really balance the books? There are many great projects that may not have been implemented so well. Planting trees is a great way to do that. But: Are the right trees being planted? In the right location? Is care being taken to grow them? Will the tree still be standing in five years? Getting a certificate like this eases your conscience, but it's often worth taking a closer look. Even ticking the box for flying isn't enough. It's therefore very difficult to completely eliminate my footprint.

Where is it particularly large?

Aviation makes up the largest part. It's like other global sports. The fact that I drove a car in circles and burned petrol is no longer so important.

And today you are committed to environmental issues: are you a hypocrite?

I have to put up with this accusation. And yes: I am the biggest hypocrite there is when I talk about environmental issues and at the same time have left such a large footprint. I flew around the world for years - and not economy, but business or first class. But should I feel bad about it? We will not solve the problem with shame, but rather by confronting it and looking for solutions. We are all hypocrites because we also enjoy things that we know are not so good. Do we have to fly to Thailand on holiday? No. But it is also incredibly beautiful there. We should not ban travel, but offer technological options that allow us to do the same as before - only more sustainably.

You often travel in a camper with your family.

Yes, we set up camp at the campsite and are a completely normal camping family. When I am recognised, some people are surprised, but after the first beer together, that stops.

How much did your childhood influence you in this regard?

Very, we were out and about in the motorhome weekend after weekend, it was amazing. Camping is also about memories and experiences that I want to give my children.

You have two daughters, aged 9 and 11, and a five-year-old son: do you feel like you missed out on parts of their childhood because of your career?

After I retired, I realized that I was traveling a lot more than I thought. When I was still fully involved, I thought: I'll be home soon, just a few days and then I'll be back. When I retired, I realized that I had slept more away from home than at home. I enjoy having a completely different daily routine now.

Do you thrive in the role of father?

It's nice that I have time. I can also look back on a very rich childhood of my own, in which I was able to spend a lot of time with my parents and siblings. This time together is the most beautiful thing my parents gave me - and I live it now. Even if I don't travel from kart track to kart track with my children, like we did back then.

Why not?

It hasn't turned out that way yet.

Does racing have a future at all and still have a right to exist?

That's a very good question. While interest in Formula 1 is growing steadily in America, countries like Germany are questioning whether it is still in keeping with the times. If Formula 1 does not move quickly enough and find answers to important questions, it runs the risk of social pressure becoming so great that a ban is discussed.

What questions does Formula 1 have to ask itself?

How are the cars fueled? How does the whole circus get from A to B? Hundreds of thousands of people travel to the races: how do they get there, how do they travel home, what do they consume on site, what kind of food and drink is even offered? There are so many issues at stake. I would certainly think it a great shame if Formula 1 were to disappear.

Why?

There are many people who appreciate the sport on the one hand, but also the culture behind it on the other. It is a piece of history and cultural heritage, especially in Germany, where the automobile industry is very large and has a long history. You can't just erase that. So Formula 1 basically has a right to exist. But it needs to move forward in terms of vehicles and technology.

Formula 1 cars already have highly efficient hybrid engines, and from 2026 they will also run on synthetic fuel.

Yes, thanks to this fuel, CO₂-neutral driving is possible. But synthetic fuel is not a panacea. The big drawback is the high electricity consumption during production, regardless of whether gasoline, diesel or kerosene is produced. The process is inefficient - while the electricity is actually needed everywhere else, for example for heating buildings. Synthetic fuels are a bridging technology for forms of mobility for which we do not yet have other solutions, such as shipping or air travel. There are still no electric or hydrogen-powered container ships or aircraft.

And what about private transport?

The electric car is significantly more efficient and has a higher efficiency than a combustion engine. However, it is not fair to demand that people buy electric cars, as they are still more expensive than combustion engines. They need to become cheaper - and the range needs to be increased and the network needs to be better developed.

The reality is this: There are 1.3 billion cars with combustion engines on the road in the world.

And for them, synthetic fuel makes sense as a transition. But if we think ahead, 30, 40 years into the future, it is important that the rich countries set the pace, set a good example and make the transition to electromobility.

What does your personal fleet look like?

It's not entirely electric yet because I want to hold on to my VW bus, which runs on diesel. I also have an electric Porsche - OK, a Porsche - but also an electric Nissan.

You live in the country in Europe that has the best public transport system. How often do you travel by train?

I travel very often by public transport. Zurich is the perfect example of why it makes no sense to travel by car in a city. And that is a key factor: if the service is available and public transport beats the car in terms of attractiveness, people are more likely to switch. Switzerland is a model country in general; you can get to the most remote villages by post bus, the connections are great and the timetable is very well timed. Public transport must be a real alternative everywhere, then people will start to think differently.

Was it the same for you?

My childhood was shaped by motorsports and I counted the days until I could get my driver's license. It was important to my grandfather that his car had a star on it, our generation also drove other brands, and today's children often have completely different priorities anyway. This is how walls collapse and new things emerge. The future can also be better than the present. If there is less traffic in cities, more electric cars, more public transport, that is better for everyone.

When you sit on trains and buses, aren't you constantly recognized and harassed?

Of course I get recognized sometimes, but what I appreciate about the Swiss is that they are very discreet. That's completely different in Germany or other countries.

Is that one of the reasons why you moved to Switzerland in 2007?

That's the main reason why I want to stay here. I feel very comfortable. The initial spark was that I was working as a test driver for Sauber - even though I quickly moved to Toro Rosso. I liked it here. And of course there were tax advantages too. But I would have those in the place where many of my former colleagues live.

You're talking about Monaco. Why don't you live on the Côte d'Azur?

Switzerland is incredibly beautiful, a paradise. Monaco is certainly beautiful and a bit warmer, but living in such a concrete desert would not be for me. I need space, mountains and nature.

Michael Schumacher has also been living in Switzerland for years. They have always looked up to him.

He is my childhood hero and, in my opinion, the greatest Formula 1 driver in history, even if statistically that is Lewis (Hamilton).

Since his skiing accident in 2013, Schumacher has been cared for at home in Gland, Vaud. You are still in contact with the family through his son Mick, how important is that to you?

I get on well with Mick and we keep in touch, even though I'm no longer racing and he's no longer in a Formula 1 car. That's important to me.

Recently, Michael's brother Ralf Schumacher made headlines because he came out as gay. That's unheard of in motorsport…

… a taboo. As in many other sports. If we look at the statistics, many tennis and football players must be gay. But it is still very difficult to come out in sport and be accepted.

Why is that?

Let's take football: If a player comes out and then has to bend down to pick up the ball before a throw-in, for example, there are bound to be many in the stands who will burst into laughter. That's why role models who have the courage to come out are so important. I don't know if I could talk openly about it myself. That's why we should appreciate it when someone does.

How was Schumacher’s coming out received in the motorsport scene?

Actually, it's good. But of course, motorsport is still the world where old white men have a petrol party. Some things are taboo for many people. Lewis has already torn down a lot of walls as the first black Formula 1 driver. He brought up the subject of racism and other things that were suddenly being talked about. I came into Formula 1 at the same time as him, and I can remember that there were a lot of bad comments about him.

For example?

Because of the color of his skin, he had no place here. He has now shown, not only through his performance, that they were completely wrong. People like him are needed. We used to be told that we shouldn't talk about certain topics, like money, love, sex, religion. Today we are much further along, and that is good.

You are committed to issues affecting the LGBTQ community. Why?

In sport, people fight very hard and do everything to win. But it should be fair. And that's what I'm concerned about: fairness, fair treatment of all people, no matter who they love or who they are. Sometimes we take a step back in this development, such as with the election of Donald Trump as US President. Such decisions usually come at the expense of people who do not fit into society's image. Raising awareness of this and giving these people a voice is extremely important.

You spoke earlier about your former homeland Germany: Can you still show your face there?

For what reason?

Because you support a speed limit on motorways.

(smiles) In this discussion, freedom is often confused with habit. I live in Switzerland, where there is a speed limit. Does that mean we are less free here? Or do Germans feel that their freedom is being taken away from them when they cross the border into Switzerland or France? But I am aware that driving without a speed limit is sacred for many Germans.

You've been able to let off steam on the racetrack your whole life. What do you miss now that you can't do that anymore?

I miss a lot of things, especially the competition. Or getting a result straight after a performance and knowing where you stand. The sport, the kick. But I have also gained a lot and have more time for other topics and interests. I see it more as a trade-off than a loss.

[warmsol]

a rush kinda like the old times, after all of these years I still cross your mind ♫ prev | next

(footsteps approach, a soft knock follows)

Elia: Home already, my love? 

(Kai pauses, he admires Elia before breaking the silence)

Elia: (sighs) I’m still trying to decide between tulips or roses for the centerpieces. Or maybe — 

Kai: (glances at Elia’s ring) Isn’t that bastard lucky. 

(Elia turns, her heart jumps) 

Elia: Kai?! 

Kai: Surprise. 

Elia: Oh my god. You’re here?! 

Kai: (smirks) C’mere. Let me hug you hello.

Elia: You actually made it!

Kai: Of course.

Elia: Days early too, I’m impressed!

Kai: As if I’d miss my chance to steal the bride away.  

Elia: ..Oh? 

Kai: For only a while, I swear. You got time for me, flower? 

Elia: Yeah. Sure.

Kai: You look skeptical.

Elia: I mean.. 

Kai: Ah c’mon! I promise I’m not gonna tie you up and run off or anything. 

Kai: Although, you did love the tying up thing when we, you know. 

Elia: (clears throat) Uh..

Kai: Fun times, eh? 

Elia: ANYWAY  — 

Kai: (teasingly) Look at you blushing. You remember.

Elia: (flustered) OH! I-I have an idea, want to meet my chickens? 

Elia: A baby hatched earlier!

Kai: Ew. 

Elia: To the chickens! Let’s go.

Kai: (scrunches nose in disgust) Nah. I’ll pass.

Elia: Why? (frowns) Still can’t bear the farm smells, city boy? 

Kai: I’ll admit, it’s a tad more tolerable today. Maybe ‘cause the biggest pile of shit isn’t around. (mumbles) Still expecting the idiot to pop out of the bushes and skin me alive for being in your presence. 

Elia: (groans, rubs temple) Just arrived and already a brat.. Is this how you’re gonna be the whole time? 

Kai: (smugly) We’ll see. Sooo…

Kai: I know you’re busy with doomsday —  I mean, uh, wedding prep and all but have I convinced you to meet up with me later? 

Elia: ..Only if you behave. Got it? 

Kai: I’ve always liked when you tell me what to do. 

Elia: (laughs in defeat) Annd, I’m already regretting this. Kai: Pfft. Trust me, once we’re under the sunset together, it’ll feel like old times.

[sully-s]

Batman Quest To Get A Birkin Bag

Ok so I have a very indulgent, SuperBats head fanfic that keeps me company on days that I forget to charge my earphones while walking my dog and to bore my wonderfully accommodating friends over dinner.

Long story short it’s a character study about Clark after his death. Doomsday kills him becuase we do not subscribe to Synder movies in this household.

Mostly its about Bruce grieving and reflecting on his ten+ year marriage with the man of steel with a large helping of the Justice League members bonding and finally getting to know Bruce and in turn Clark. (Kal never really got to say specifics about his life because Bruce wanted to keep his identity secret therefore a lot of Clark's life was private.)

For most of the fic Clark’s dead. But I'm one for angst with a happy ending so he comes back. How he comes back I have all kinds of versions but I just want to share this really silly one that I’m slightly obsessed with.

It’s about two years after Clark died. Currently, Bruce and Hal are off-world for a two-month mission. Shortly after they leave the League are battling some sorcerer who's in possession of a Jinn. During the battle two of the three wishes are used and at the end it's Flash who gets to use the last one.

He wishes for Clark to be revived back to life.

Jinn says he can't do that

Flash thinks of course just like in Aladdin you can't bring the dead back, make someone fall in love or wish for more wishes.

The Jinn is like how dare you think that's not within my power of course I can bring back the dead, I can't bring back Superman because Clark's not dead. he's just in his grave too weak to break out of his grave due to the lack of sunlight.

Flash hears this and immediately rushes over to dig up Kal.

The next month and a half are all about Clark adjusting to the changes over the last three years (Like having a new kid at the manor: Tim) Meeting new members (Green Arrow, Martian Man Hunter), and really bonding with his teammates ect.

While waiting for Bruce's return Clark asks Barry what he'd like.

Barry is confused

Clark clarifies that Barry was able to bring back one of Bruce's loved ones “to life.“ That’s never happened and for a man like Bruce who loves deeply for his family he going to be very grateful and he will not take “I’m just glad I could help” for an answer. So Barry needs to think of something or Batman will.

Barry doesn't know what to ask for but knows that Bruce is rich. He figures this would be a great time to get that designer bag that Iris always wanted but they could never justify ever buying. (Listen I don’t know if Iris is a designer girly but in this fic she really just likes this one bag.)

So Bruce and Hal get back and after the big celebration party, the JL held for Clark and Bruce's reunion. Bruce approaches Barry thanks him and asks if there’s anything he can do.

Thinking Barry is going to ask for a house, pull some strings with his Brucie persona so he can better his life at his job or status. Maybe ask for Bruce to fund or set up a wellness program for people in Central City.

But Barry is just like: Uh well Iris has always liked this bag.

And Bruce is thinking Really Barry You brought the love of my life back to life I’d move mountains (without Clark’s help) for you and you want some designer bag for your wife?

Bruce: Do you have a picture?

And as soon as Barry shows him the bag Bruce knows moving mountains would be so much easier.

The bag Barry wants to get is a Birkin Bag.

Now if you know anything about Birkin bags 1. they’re stupid expensive. 2. If you can afford one that doesn't mean you get to buy one. Hermes the company that makes them has this irate practice that you have to work up a good relationship with the store and the sales associates in said store to even get the privilege to buy a Birkin (usually by buying a ton of other Hermes products you don’t want.) Sometimes you buy half the store but if you’re not a high-profile client or they don't like your image they just brush you off and postpone your chance to ”buy” a Birkin. And if you do all of the above prerequisites You don't even get to pick the bag they "give" you one. Want a pink colorway? Sorry here's lime green you're welcome.

Now Barry has no knowledge of any of this and just thinks a Birkin is just some overpriced bag. The problem is Iris only likes this one colorway ( Size 35cm, Red Alligator Exterior, Gold hardware, Yellow Slik interior ect.)

This is going to be near impossible.

But In Bruce's mind, Flash did the impossible in bringing back Clark (Bruce thinks Clark was wished back to life because that's the story everyone is sticking to. Because the emotional trauma of letting Bruce know that Clark was alive the whole time rotting away in a grave for 2 years is not on anyone’s todo list.) So he will get this bag Even if it kills him. He's the goddamn Batman.

And all this lead up is to what I'm actually obsessed with

I just love the idea that Bruce is running around Brucie-ing it up to try to get in Hermes' good graces but his image of being a drunk playboy is activity stopping him from buying any bag.

He calls up the Daily Planet and starts setting up all these puff PR-boosting articles to up his image. Which starts rumors becuase Burce Wayne doesn’t do interviews so why now?

Gotham elite catches wind that Burcie Wayne wants a Birkin richest man in America can't get one. So they all start getting Birkins. They ware them to his galas, just to troll Burcie. The elite jump on the waitlist inflating the list to stupid long. Hermes starts to wear the exclusivity of Brucie Wayne as a sign of good taste and prestige. Bruce searches the second-hand market and can't find the colorway Iris's wants.

Bruce goes undercover as a worker for a local Hermes store to become his own sales associate just so he can get around the prejudices of Bruce Wayne image and start racking up a sales history. (He just selling and buying to himself lol.)

So Bruce is playing a luxury salesman using his background of old money and Alfred’s butlering to woo potential buyers. Working his first retail job ever. Having to suck up to management so he can plead his case about Bruce Wayne. Using his access to get informed on what bags are currently available, who’s on the waitlist, where they rank, and criteria on how and what moves you up the list ect.

After months and becoming the number one salesman, he makes his case to allow Brucie Wayne to buy a bag.

It’s declined.

So he switches tactics.

He just makes a new cover as a recently won lottery winner looking to burn cash and wants to burn it with Hermes. And starts a new sale history. Using all of his knowledge and intel about what gets you on the waiting list.

He gets stonewalled a few times by former co-workers that he gets around by blackmailing them with gossip and infractions he witnessed or was told In confidence when he was a fellow sales associate.

Finally, his lottery winner persona is put on a waitlist. The only problem is he’s at the very bottom.

So what does he do?

He suties up As Batman and starts intimidating all those who are higher on the list than his lottery winner cover rocketing him up the list.

He hits a roadblock when he tries to scrace a woman on the list who doesn’t believe he’s actually Batman becuase “Why would Batman even want with a Birkin?”

Which leads to an escalation that gets him an earful from Superman who’s called to the scene by said woman whos terrified after Batman strings her upside down over the edge of her high-rise penthouse.

Clark offers to buy the bag becuase who wouldn’t want that kinda of PR endorsement?

Which Bruce vittamently refuses becuase it would cheapen the gift.

Finally, after a week of terrorizing wait-listers, his lottery winner persona is “given“ the opportunity to buy a bag.

But disaster strikes when that lucky break he thought he got because he was next on the list was actually bad luck becuase the person was bumped off becuase they bought the bag that Bruce had painfully calculated to purchase which was the only bag that would be made in the next 3 years that has the colorway that Iris wanted.

So Bruce tracks down and comforts the buyer in the dead of night as Batman. The buyer freaks out and says they didn't even want this colorway and really wanted a Caranery yellow ostrich skin colorway and if he could get her that one she'd trade for it.

This leads Bruce to play matchmaker for a series of buyers that have Birken Bags they don't love and would trade for their dream bag. And after months of fetch questing and matching sad Birken owners around the world with their dream bags Bruce he pulls it off. He finally gets a Canary, yellow ostrich skin colorway Birkin bag trades it for Iris’s dream bag. Only to find out it was ruined in a car crash that was caused by an alien invasion 2 months before that the JL had a particularly nasty time with and it was Bruce’s Batmobile that was thrown into her parked car.

The bag is a mess the zipper borken, missing hardware, leather scratched. But Bruce so done with everything accepts the trade and takes it back to the cave. Where he proceeds to 3D scan the bag then composite a CAD model and starts to collect all the raw components of the bag himself.

Getting only the best materials (much better than what Hermes was using) Talking to Killer Corc on how to find the best alligator pelts. Flying to India to personally pick out the red dye for the color. Mining the gold for the hardware from an asteroid that was threatening the Watchtower.

After he has everything Bruce proceeds to by hand construct an exact replica of Iris's dream bag. Essentially making the most over-budgeted fake to exist. Where he finally gives it to Barry (who has no inkling of the time and effort Bruce has put into this side project that has taken the better part of a whole year) who jokes in saying “Oh wow takes 12 months to run to the store huh?”

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

💗Pancakes for Dinner - Lando Norris

'I wanna eat pancakes for dinner, I wanna get stuck in your head'

<word count - 2386>

As Lando kept checking the time on his phone, he couldn't help but feel worse and worse as the minutes ticked agonizingly by. He had promised to go straight to your place after he had touched back down in Monaco.

As he's thinking about you, your smile, your laugh, your eyes, he can't help but want to teleport to yours instead of having to endure the painfully slow plane journey. He felt like he was missing something, though. 

He racked his brains, trying to remember what he was forgetting, but nothing was coming to mind. It was some sort of special day. It certainly wasn't Christmas, or your birthday. It wasn't Halloween or anything, so it... shit. 

It was Valentines Day. 

It was Valentines Day and he hadn't booked anywhere for dinner like he had said he would. Well, he had never actually told you he was going to, but he had made a mental note to book a table somewhere in advance. And he hadn't. 

The guilt he felt was incomprehensible, and he didn't want you getting angry at him because he hadn't. He knew you weren't like that, and you'd probably tell him it was fine and you could just stay in and cuddle, but he wanted to do something nice for you.

He wanted to treat you like the princess you were to him, and he was scolding himself for forgetting to do one simple thing while he was away. He tried to see if he could get anything last minute, but everything was booked up. 

He wouldn't even be able to give you your gift since it was at his place, and he was going straight to yours so you could have a couple hours together before you both went to sleep. And, he'd probably be sleeping earlier since he had had a long day of traveling. 

He wanted to give you something, at least. Something more than an apology on the day of love. Conveniently enough, he was able to ask for some paper, and he had a pen in his bag. As he started to write, he had to think carefully about what he was going to say.

His mind instantly went into doomsday thinking as the thoughts flashed in his mind of the plane going down, and the last thing he imagined was you. He didn't want to take it too far, either, but he was awful at telling you how he felt.

He could barely tell you how beautiful he thought you always were without blushing and stuttering, so writing the extent of how he felt was a much better option. Telling you was too scary, so he always just said something else. 

He read it over and over until the words didn't make any coherent sense in his brain, and he folded it before he backed out and threw it away. Lando thought that this was the best way he could give you what you deserved. The truth.

He finally touched down, and took a taxi straight to your apartment. You had texted him, telling him to come straight in instead of knocking. He had a key, so he could just enter whenever he wanted to. 

"Babe? You home?" he called out, dropping his things down by the door and slipping his shoes off. Just being in your apartment alone was enough to take away the stress of travelling. 

"In the living room!" you responded, listening as his footsteps approached where you were. You had missed him a great deal while he had been off on his travels, but he was having fun, so you didn't mind so much. 

He entered the room, and was relieved to see you just sat on the couch, curled up in a blanket. You weren't ready for a fancy dinner, you weren't looking at him in expectation of some grand gesture. You were simply happy for him to be back.

"God, I have missed you," he smiled, taking a seat next to you and slinging an arm over your shoulders, tugging you snugly into his side. He pressed a tender kiss to the top of your head, just allowing himself to relax. 

"I've missed you too," you agreed, revelling in the feeling of being back in his arms. "So, I was thinking for dinner, we could-" you started, but Lando abruptly cut you off. 

"Well, about dinner... I feel really bad because it's Valentines Day, and I know I should have gotten us a table somewhere. I wanted to treat you, but it completely slipped my mind and I'm really sorry," he rambled, his grip on you tightening. 

"Hey, hey, Lando, no, I was just going to say that I'll look in the cupboard and see what I can make us," you told him, knowing he would have told you to dress up in advance or something if you were going for dinner.

As he had suspected, you weren't waiting for anything, but he still felt awfully guilty. "But I still wanted to take you out and I feel like a shitty boyfriend for forgetting," he continued. 

"Lando, my love, I was going to book us somewhere too, since I knew you would have told me weeks ago if you had reserved something. But I figured you'd be tired and you'd rather stay in and relax," you explained, and his heart melted. 

It was baffling to him how sweet and considerate you were, but that was one of the many things he adored about you in the very, very long list. "You're such a sweetheart, I swear," he smiled, softly kissing you before pulling away and looking into your eyes. 

"I try, I try," you chuckled, blushing slightly. The pink tint that coated your cheeks was one of the most adorable things he thought he had ever seen, and now he was glad that the two of you were just staying in instead of going out. "What do you want me to make?"

"Can we have pancakes for dinner?" he asked, an innocent smile on his face. He had had the same thought earlier, and there was no harm in asking. 

"Now that is a splendid idea, my love," you agreed, getting up off the couch and heading through to the kitchen. Lando followed on, not wanting to be away from your side for even a minute. He leant on the counter and watched as you prepare the pancake batter. "Do you want crepes or American?" 

"Whichever you prefer is fine," he said, wanting you to get the choice. 

"Crepes it is," you smiled, putting the pan on the stove. 

"Do you want me to set the table?" he asked, wanting to feel of use and wanting to help you out somewhat. 

"You can sit down if you want, you've had a long day," you told him. And just when he thought you couldn't get any sweeter, you just had to ass a cherry on top of the cake. He shook his head, his curls flopping about on his forehead. 

"No, no, I'll do it, don't worry," he smiled, kissing you on the cheek and going over to the dining table in the other room. Lando made sure you couldn't see what he was doing as he changed the table layout so you could sit opposite each other. 

He took the flowers that you had on the coffee table and put them in the middle of the dining room table, as well as a few candles to create the proper romantic-restaurant feel. He was very proud of himself as he looked at your transformed table. 

Once he was done, he went back into the kitchen to see how you were getting on with the pancakes. You were flipping one in the pan as you noticed him, standing in the doorway. "Hey, you," you smiled as he walked up to you. 

He wrapped his arms around your waist from behind as he rested a head on your shoulder. "Hey," he softly said, just enjoying having you in his arms after being away for a while. 

"Do you wanna go get dressed up? Make it like a proper date?" you asked, leaning back into him. 

"I like that idea," he said, kissing your neck and letting you go off to your bedroom to get changed. He had some stuff at your place in the wardrobe in the spare room, and it'd suffice for a nice date setting. 

He found a pink shirt, perfect for the Valentines Day feel with some slacks. Simple, yet classy. When he came back out, he noticed that you were still getting ready, which was to be expected. He patiently waited, and his head snapped to the door when he heard it click open.

"Baby, you look stunning," he smiled, watching as you walked out, all dressed up. You had done as much as you could in the short space of time, but it was more than enough for him. You had both had the same idea, opting for pink dress.

"You're looking handsome as ever," you smiled, liking the pink on him. 

"Thank you, my love," he replied, taking your hand and walking you through to the dining room, the candle flames dancing in the darkness, casting your shadows on the wall.

"Lando, you didn't have to," you chuckled, taking in the room around you. The atmosphere was absolutely perfect, and this was better than any fancy restaurant. 

"I did for my love," he flirted, pulling your chair out as you sat. You had opted for the pancakes with bacon and maple syrup, since it was a classic combination. The two of you talked as you ate, enjoying the moment together. 

It didn't really matter where you were, as long as you had each other, you'd be happy to spend the time together. You had finished a short while ago, and now he had something itching at the back of his mind. The note he had written you. "Wait there," he said, getting up from the table and going to the front door. 

He rummaged around in his bag and pulled out the folded piece of paper he had written on the plane, and set it down in front of you. "You can open it," he said, and you could already tell he was nervous about whatever it was he had written. 

For a moment, you thought you were getting broken up with, but you quickly realised that wasn't the case. Lando watched anxiously as you read through the note, your face softening as the tears pricked the backs of your eyes. 

'Dear Y/N,

I think this is one of those times where I'm thinking overly negatively, so bear with me. I think that I should probably tell you this, in case there is an accident, and I never see you again. But, on this plane tonight, I'm thinking, honestly, what do I have to lose?

I want to do everything with you. I want to have pancakes for dinner, I want to be the one stuck in your head. I want to watch TV shows with you, and if we're feeling under the weather, we can watch in bed instead of the couch. I want to go out on the weekends and take you to races. I want to get dressed up just to get undressed again. 

I'm not trying to be too forward, and I don't want to cross any lines with you, but I think writing this to you is easier than telling you verbally. I can tell you everything I'm feeling without chickening out and changing the topic. 

I love you. There, I said it. Well, wrote it. I love you. I didn't want to say too much, but there's no way to skirt around this. I love you. The more I write it on the page the more it feels right, because I'm finally accepting that I love you. I love you so much. 

If I'm still in the room while you're reading this, just know I can take it if you don't feel the same. All I want is for you to be happy, even if the feeling isn't mutual. Or if you want to take a step back and just be friends. Or if you just like me a little and not a lot. 

I can take whatever it is you feel, even if this ruins everything. I guess that just comes with being in love with the prettiest girl in the world, huh? Anyway, I've rambled on enough, and I'll leave you to think. I love you.'

"You don't have to say it back, but I do really love you," he said, waiting for you to say something. Waiting for you to say anything. Anything at all. "I get it, it might be too soon-" he rambled, trying to fill the silence. 

"I love you too," you said, cutting him off. For a moment, he just looked completely gobsmacked, and he wasn't too sure he had heard you right. "I love you too, Lando," you repeated, letting a stray tear of happiness roll down your reddened cheeks. 

"You do? You really do?" he asked, needing to hear it one more time as confirmation that he wasn't just hearing what he wanted to hear. 

"I love you, Lando. I love you so much," you reiterated the words of his letter. It took every ounce of control that he had not to leap to his feet and scream because the girl he adored loved him back. The prettiest girl in the world loved him back. 

"Baby, you have no idea how much that means to me," he beamed, standing up from his chair and rounding the table so he was on your side. He wasted no time in taking you in his arms and kissing you. But he wasn't just kissing his girlfriend anymore, he was kissing the woman he loved. 

"I love you," he smiled against your lips, becoming obsessed with the way those words sounded when he said them to you. 

"I love you too," you smirked, snaking yours arms around his neck as you kissed him deeply. It was a damn good job that the two of you weren't at a restaurant, because you certainly couldn't do that on their tables. 

A/N - And the second Valentines post of the day! I still think I'm shadowbanned, so if you could reblog this if you read this far, that'd be such a massive help! Also, based off Pancakes for Dinner by Lizzy Mcalpine. Love y'all 💗

|masterlist|

[junkdrawerfan]

A Batman Fanfic Idea:

Tim is a Creature, an answer to a prophecy that spells the doom of the coming universe. On his 18th birthday, the dark blood inside him will rear up to rip away his human facade and all of earth and the many planets known and unknown will be crushed under his heel.

It is a prophecy that has been guarded by the magical community for eons. They know the signs. They know what this doomsday child looks like. The day Timothy Jackson Drake is born, the magical community turns its attention to stopping the prophecy, of sealing the creature away in human flesh and bone.

The problem is that nothing works. Every ritual and spells falls away to fate. It is written. Tim will bring upon the doom of the universe. So what if… they just don’t let him turn 18.

It works for a few years. Messing with time has side effects. People don’t remember but they do? Villains get smarter and tougher. Magic feels less potent as more and more is siphoned of to hold back the flow of time. Mutations occur, ripples in the time stream that twist ally to foe and foe to ally.

(They try to kill him. Three “years” into the whole mess, Tim falls asleep while Bruce and Kon hold his hands. And then he wakes up the next day, a whole day older, in his coffin during his funeral. No one ever mentions it (not enough remember and those that do can’t). The prophecy will not let him die before his time.)

It’s not possible to keep the whole world stuck. Some events can’t be undone. Natural disasters persist even as time doesn’t. Some people age. Some don’t. Damien grows. Dick and Jason and Steph and Cass and Duke and Bruce don’t. For “years” no one notices.

And then Damian is only a year younger than Tim and the inconsistencies become too much to handle. The magic breaks. The spell shatters leaving a gash in the world.

For the first time since his 17th birthday, Tim ages a day. And then a week. A month passes and he can feel his hair growing longer for the first time in six years and has a panic attack.

People start to remember. Bruce goes form 35 to 41 in a week. Dick complain about back problems and aching joints of a 30 year old.

But there is nothing they can do. It was always unsustainable. There’s discussions of trying new ways to kill him, to freeze him. But even a frozen bodies feels time.

His birthday is a countdown.

Damian refuses to give up even as everyone else does.

The whole hero community holds its breath as the last month approaches. They prepare for war.

Tim prepares for death. He makes his peace. He says his goodbyes. He writes letters. It’s like a terminal illness. There’s enough time to say goodbye. There’s not enough time to heal it.

Tim and Kon get married. Kon is 25 now and beautiful. Tim, as always, forever 17. But they won’t have enough time for anything else. The wedding is gorgeous, expensive, a little gaudy. Bruce pours all his energy into planning it. He can’t fix this. There’s nothing he can do to save his son but he can give him two perfect days. It’s beautiful and they record every minute of it.

(Jason is Tim’s best man. It’s funny. Laugh!)

Damian never gives up. He runs to the League, searching the depths of his grandfather’s library. Oh the hero’s asked Ra’s. They scoured the globe for solutions. No knowledge forbidden in an attempt to stop the apocalypse. But there are secrets only family can access, records so lost to time that Ra’s barely remembers them.

He takes Jon (17 and Damian only 16, once again similar in age) with him on the quest, runs himself ragged against mortal and supernatural foes alike. He nearly misses the wedding, surfacing just long enough for a day of family photos and tearful congratulations that do nothing but add to his feverish resolve.

(His family has lost so much, has suffered in ways no family should. He loves them. He aches for them. His brothers and sisters. His aging father. He can’t lose this family when they never got to have enough time.)

He finds a portal to the fea world. The space between dimensions full of holes after six “years” of holding back time. He spends six months within its borders and dances a deadly game of wit with Kings and Queens older than time and returns to the mortal plan to find only 3 days have passed.

He returns to the manor with an untried solution, one he had to pry from the lips of an undying seer trapped within the depths of a catacomb (hard won after outsmarting a face stealer, wondering through an impossible fog, and facing far too many dragons) two days before Tim’s birthday.

The blood ritual is done with all the family present. There is a gash along Damian’s neck that will never stop being angry red, magic always pulsing beneath the skin. But it is worth it to see the hope flare in his family’s eyes.

The solution is deceptively easy and terribly dangerous. You can’t stop fate but you can make it wrong. Tim’s creature blood will rise to the surface on his 18th birthday. But what if it comes a day early. There is a risk that it will all go wrong, that the creature will always ache for blood and death even without fate pulling it along. But, Tim argues, at least then he can die (no one finds this as reassuring as he’d hoped).

Bruce and Kon hold his hands — a parody of that moment three years ago when he fell asleep — and Tim braces for pain. But there is none, just a new taste of magic and the ease of his body morphing. Ears twisting into points, his hair turns feathery and fluffy, pupils spinning into triangles. There is more. Seams along his cheekbones and neck he knows can open into extra mouths and eyes. A tail curling along his spine. His tongue splits at the tip. But his limbs do not twist into anything inhuman (though maybe he could if he tried). And his mind — oh his soul — stays his.

As the clock strikes midnight on Tim’s 18th birthday, nothing happens.

[carmelves]

snippets of fics I'll never finish: 5/?

Context: this is an au of the ending of Sylus's myth, where MC is more of an actual sorceress. She travels to the afterlife to bring Sylus back, Orpheus and Euridice style, passing through a series of trials, including the following dive into his childhood memories. I don't think it's mentioned in this section, but he's about 11 here

He’s light on his feet, an echo of the deadly elegance he’ll someday possess hidden inside gangly limbs, and you struggle to keep up as he slips into the forest, weaving between trees with the grace of a born predator. It’s only the red of his shirt, the glint of sunlight in his bright hair, that allows you to keep sight of him. Eventually, you emerge into a clearing beside a pond just in time to see him drop to his knees beside the water, leaning over to look at his reflection. Slender fingers probe through his hair, parting it to reveal a tiny black nub. 

The beginning of a horn. 

“No, no!” he whispers harshly. “I told you to stay away!” He sits back, hands clutching his hair, breaths coming fast and heavy. With one shaky hand, he reaches down to grab the knife from his belt. It’s a small thing, a boy’s knife intended for gutting fish and whittling sticks, but its blade gleams wickedly sharp in the sunlight. From your position, frozen at the edge of the treeline, you can’t see his face but you can see the deep breath he takes, the way he squares his shoulders as he raises the knife to his horn.

“Stop!’ you can’t stand by anymore, watching this boy, this echo of the man you’ll someday love, hurt himself. You emerge from the trees, taking a few steps towards him.

He’s on his feet in an instance, knife pointed straight at you. His eyes narrow. “Who are you?”

You raise your hands placatingly. “Doesn’t matter, I’m not going to hurt you. Will you put down the knife?”

His shoulders tense, and he doesn’t change positions. “You saw, didn’t you?”

You nod.

“Tell anyone and I’ll kill you.” His voice shakes but the point of the knife is steady. “I’ll eat your soul. I’m a monster, it’s what we do.”

“You’re not a monster.” you keep your voice soft, posture unthreatening. What an irony it would be to survive doomsday, your own execution, the rampages of a half-mad dragon, only to be killed by the child version of the man you’re trying to save. “And I’m not going to tell anyone.”

“I don’t believe you.”

You shrug helplessly. “Okay, fine. It’s the truth, though.” You walk around him, keeping a wide berth, and sit down by the edge of the pond, dangling your bare feet in the water. They’re scraped and battered from your chase through the woods, and the cool water feels soothing. You sigh in relief, closing your eyes, though you remain tense, ready to fight back if he decides to actually attack you. After a moment of silence, soft footsteps approach you.

“Why are you here?”

You ignore the question, looking up at him. “It’s too bad you have to keep cutting the horns off. They’re pretty.”

He scoffs, sitting down a few feet from you. “They’re horrible.” He hugs his knees to his chest, the knife still gripped in his hand as he looks over at you with suspicion. Your heart clenches when you notice how his pants are just slightly too short, revealing a few inches of bony ankle. “...you’re really not gonna tell?”

“Why would I? The Judicators are a bunch of puffed up hypocrites. They don’t deserve anything, let alone you.”

He snorts, glaring into the pond. After a moment, one hand comes up to lightly touch his horn. It’s grown slightly in the few minutes you’ve been sitting here, now long enough to poke above his hair. “They aren’t pretty. They’re horrible and ugly and if anyone knew, they’d kill me.”

“They could try,” you respond softly, thinking of Sylus’s words. One hundred and eight attempts on his life, all failed. Only you, against your will, had succeeded. You reach out and gently run a finger along the length of his horn. He shudders, eyes falling closed before he tenses, batting your hand away.

“Stop it. Don’t touch me.”

You raise your hands in surrender. “Alright. But is this your plan for the rest of your life? Just to keep cutting off parts of yourself and hoping no one notices?”

“What else can I do?” he says harshly. “All the other dragons are dead. If I can’t hide what I am, I will be too.”

“You could leave. Go where nobody can find you, where you can be yourself.”

He just hunches over, tightening his arms around his legs, staring out over the pond. You think of the way his eyes practically glowed when the woman in the market had praised him. How even as an adult jaded by centuries of suffering, he tolerated your chatter, let you drag him through markets and taverns, a smile tugging on the corner of his mouth only to be quickly hidden whenever you glanced at him. The kitten that had showed up in the cave. 

He wasn’t built for solitude. 

You sigh, knowing it’s futile to give him advice. You know exactly how his story ends, that the boy in front of you is nothing more than a memory, but still… a part of you yearns to take him away, show him a life that isn’t full of pain and fear. 

“Things will get better,” you say softly. “Not for a long time, but... but someday somebody’s going to see your horns and tail and love you anyway.”

He stares at you, eyes wide in his soft, childish face. To your utter shock, you see tears gathering in the corners. He wipes them away harshly with the back of his hand, turning away from you. “Shut up, you can’t know that, you don’t know anything.” He sniffs, shoulders shaking with repressed emotion. 

You can only stare. You’d never had to comfort a crying child before. You’d never dreamed that Sylus would cry, let alone in front of you. Death threats, you’d expected. Anger, biting sarcasm, feigned indifference… but tears? You hesitantly place a hand on his shoulder, ready for him to lash out but he leans into it instead. You shuffle closer, putting your arm around his shoulders, and he leans his head against you. The small, sharp horn pokes your arm, but you make no effort to move. 

“Sy- Stayrus, I promise you that things will turn out alright. Remember that, okay? Things will be alright in the end.”