#I actually like a hundred another movies but these were the gifs I could

[leathernbangs]

Omg hi @gasstationwomen 🦦

Rules: without naming them, post a gif from ten of your favourite films, then tag ten people to do the same!

Tagging @joespinell and @frances73 :3

[waitforyrlove]

˙ . ꒷ introducing personal trainer ! drew . 𖦹˙—

meeting personal trainer ! drew for the first time.

he was everything, the kind of face you only see on screens, plastered across the internet, his name etched in the credits of blockbuster movies. He was untouchable, a admiration you could only admire from afar. But then, like a joke, the universe aligned in the strangest way. Through some twist of fate—or your mom’s ability to network with his mom—Drew wasn’t just a distant person anymore. He was here, in your orbit, as a personal trainer assigned to you.

it was the kind of collision that could split universes.

you arrived at the gym, your heart thudding like a bad drum solo, the weight of it all pressing heavier than anything. The place was nearly empty, a quiet stage set for an encounter that felt both surreal and terrifying. He wasn’t just the guy from your screen anymore, he was in flesh and bone, waiting for you in a space where every little thing could happen.

you gripped the door handle and paused. This wasn’t just a meeting. This was like stepping into a parallel universe.

you stepped inside, the cool air of the gym hitting your face like reality itself. The place smelled of fresh rubber mats and faintly of sweat—you scanned the space, your breath catching when you spotted him.

he wasn’t posing for a camera or performing. He was leaning casually against a weight rack, scrolling through his phone, his jawline sharp enough to cut through your nerves. His hair was tousled in that effortlessly perfect way. He looked up as you entered, his face breaking into a smile that made him seem… normal, almost.

“You must be my new client,” he said, his voice warm and inviting. Not rehearsed. Not scripted. Just real.

you nodded, suddenly hyper-aware of every move you made. Did your gym clothes look okay? Were your sneakers too scuffed? Could he tell you’d Googled him for hours last night, trying to prepare yourself for this moment?

“Don’t be nervous,” he added, as if reading your mind. “Everyone starts somewhere.” He motioned for you to join him, his tone as casual as if you were old friends meeting up instead of a star and some random gym-goer linked by their moms’ ability to link.

you walked over, still trying to believe this was happening. He picked up a clipboard and scanned it like he’d done this a hundred times before, but you couldn’t help wondering what was going through his mind. Was this just another gig for him? A break from the spotlight? Or did he see this as a chance to be… normal, even for a moment?

“All right,” he said, looking up at you with a grin. “Let’s start with something easy. How’s your stamina?”

you almost laughed out loud at the question. Not great, you wanted to say, considering it had taken all your emotional reserves just to show up today. But instead, you nodded and stammered, “It’s… okay, I guess.”

Drew’s grin widened, and he grabbed a pair of light dumbbells. “Let’s warm up. And don’t worry, you’re in good hands.”

you didn’t know if it was the charisma, the absurdity of the situation, or the way he spoke like he actually believed it, but for the first time, you let yourself relax. Maybe, just maybe, this collision of worlds wasn’t as terrifying as you thought.

the warm-up was harmless enough—light weights, stretches, and a jog on the treadmill that had your legs feeling slightly wobbly. he kept it professional, guiding you with the calm authority of someone who knew exactly what he was doing. Still, every time he brushed past or adjusted your form, you felt like a live wire, your body hyperaware of his presence.

the came the squats.

“Okay,” Drew said, grabbing a barbell and loading it with what looked like a manageable amount of weight. “Squats are all about form. It’s not about how much you can lift—it’s about doing it right. Otherwise, you’re asking for an injury.” He turned to you, his smile teasing. “And trust me, I’m not letting that happen, yeah?”

you nodded, trying to focus on his words rather than the way his fitted shirt clung to his chest, his abs more predominant than ever. He positioned you in front of the squat rack, stepping closer than before. “I’m going to check your form,” he said, his voice low and deliberate, “so don’t freak out if I adjust you a bit.”

your pulse quickened as you slid under the barbell, your hands gripping the cool steel. You tried to focus on the instructions—feet shoulder-width apart, core engaged—but it was impossible with Drew standing so close, his presence magnetic.

you lowered into the first squat, your movements stiff and uncertain. “Not bad,” he mutters, his voice warm. “But you’re leaning forward a bit too much. Here.” He stepped behind you, his hands lightly grazing your hips. The contact sent a jolt up your spine.

“Relax,” he said softly, his tone soothing. “i’m just helping you align.” His hands guided your hips back slightly, his fingertips firm but careful. He was so close now that you could feel the heat radiating off him, his breath brushing the back of your neck as he spoke. “Imagine you’re sitting down in a chair—hips back, chest up. Got it?”

“Y-yeah,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. You dropped into another squat, this time following his adjustments. His hands lingered for a moment, steadying you, and you swore you felt his thumbs press slightly as if to reassure you.

“Perfect,” he whispers, his voice dipping just enough to make your stomach flip. “you’ve got it now.”

you straightened, trying to calm the pounding in your chest, but he wasn’t done. “Let’s do a few more reps,” he said, stepping even closer. “and I’ll spot you to make sure you stay balanced.

you swallowed hard and lowered again, the weight pressing down on your shoulders. This time, Drew’s hands hovered near your waist, ready to catch you if you wobbled. His voice was steady, guiding you through each movement. “Nice, controlled. That’s it.”

with each rep, the air between you seemed to grow heavier, charged with something unspoken. On the last squat, your legs trembled slightly, and Drew’s hands quickly caught your waist, steadying you before you could stumble.

“Hey, I’ve got you,�� he said, his voice close to your ear now. His grip was firm, his fingers pressing against your sides just enough to ground you. For a second, you were aware of everything—his strength, his scent, the way his body seemed to align perfectly with yours.

you straightened up, the barbell returning to the rack with a loud clang. Drew stepped back, giving you space, but the look in his eyes lingered—a flicker of something that wasn’t entirely professional.

“Nice work,” he said, his smile back, though his voice carried an edge of something deeper. “you’re a quick learner.”

you tried to play it cool, wiping your palms on your leggings, but your heart was still racing. Maybe it was just the workout. Or maybe… it wasn’t.

his words hung in the air, laced with that playful undertone that made it impossible to ignore the tension building between you. He stepped forward again, just enough to breach your personal space, as if testing an invisible boundary. His eyes searched yours, a glint of mischief sparking behind them.

“I bet I can push you just a little more.”

your breath hitched, was he still talking about training?

before you could answer, Drew reached past you, his arm brushing yours as he adjusted the barbell on the rack. His proximity sent a shiver down your spine. “How about we finish with one more set?” he suggested, his voice dropping an octave. “This time, we’ll add a little more weight. You up for the challenge?”

“I… think so,” you managed, though your voice came out shakier than you’d intended.

“Good,” he said, stepping back with a sly smile. “But we’re doing this together.”

your brows furrowed. “Together?”

he nodded, already removing his hoodie to reveal a snug tank top that clung to his toned frame. “A little extra motivation goes a long way.” He gestured for you to get into position under the bar. As you did, he stepped behind you once more, closer than before.

“This time,” he murmured, his voice low and intimate, “i’ll hold the bar with you. Don’t worry—I’ll take some of the weight if it gets too much.”

your heart was hammering in your chest as you slid your hands back onto the bar. You felt his hands move next to yours, his grip firm and steady. His body was so close now that you could feel the warmth radiating off him, his chest just barely brushing your back.

“Ready?” he asked, his tone making the word feel loaded.

“Yeah,” you whispered, though it came out more like a breath.

“Good,” he said, leaning closer, his breath grazing the shell of your ear. “now let’s make this count.”

as you lowered into the squat, Drew followed, his body moving in perfect sync with yours. His hands remained firm on the bar, but you couldn’t ignore the way his chest seemed to align perfectly with your back, his presence both steadying and electric.

“That’s it,” he said, his voice smooth and encouraging. “keep your core tight. I’ve got you.”

when you rose, your legs trembling slightly under the weight, Drew didn’t let go. Instead, his hands shifted subtly, his fingers grazing yours. “You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for,” he murmured, his tone carrying a hint of something more than just encouragement.

you glanced back over your shoulder, catching the flicker of heat in his gaze. For a moment, the gym seemed to fade away, the sounds of clanging weights and distant music muted by the intensity of the moment.

“You okay?” Drew asked, his lips curving into a smirk that was equal parts concern and challenge.

“Yeah,” you said, your voice a little steadier now. “Let’s do one more.”

his grin widened, his eyes never leaving yours as he leaned in just a fraction closer. “That’s what I like to hear.”

you weren’t sure whether it was the workout, the proximity, or the way his voice seemed to wrap around you like a promise, but as you lowered into that final squat, you knew one thing for sure—Drew wasn’t just pushing your limits in the gym. He was blurring the line between professional and something far more dangerous.

[celestiamour]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ kinda like a rom-com! ]❜

ft. scott summers x f! reader — xmen, marvel

╰₊✧ watching a horror movie is the perfect set-up for romance, but unfortunately for the xmen, scott’s a bit of a dumbass┊1.4k words

contains: ooc scott probably, he’s the biggest dumbass ever, i thought this was cute, anyways, fluff, the entire x mansion ships it, descriptions of horror movies, the title & ending probably doesn’t make sense because i don’t actually watch rom-coms but i think it fits because it’s romantic comedy shortened, written before october started

➤ author's note: do people even want scott content?

it’s adorable, really, how a mutant who has faced countless dangers throughout your entire life and bravely battled adversaries head-on was now cowering by his side and covering your eyes with your hands, fingers slightly parted to still allow you to peer at the screen to satiate your curiosity of what would happen next.

“i didn’t think you would be this terrified,” he chuckles.

“i didn’t think we would be watching a horror movie tonight!” you hissed in return. “we usually watch superhero movies, why are we suddenly putting on supernatural stuff when october hasn’t even started yet?”

movie nights were pretty commonplace in the mansion, one of many activities hosted to encourage bonding between the inhabitants just in case being mutants on its own wasn’t enough to do the trick. scott loved these nights, because not only was it a nice break from being a professor who would have just spent this night grading papers, it also let him grow closer to you as you always find yourself in his company one way or another whether it was simply sitting next to each other or happening to hide in the same spot to catch a break from all the screaming children with unpredictable powers. 

little did you know that all of these coincidences were a result of careful planning by your co-workers in hopes that a confession would bring itself closer to the present. from ororo making it rain on the way home to force the two of you to share an umbrella, to jean nudging him during the best times to talk to you after reading your mind and helping him pick out personalized gifts you would love— hell, even logan let him steal two bottles of beers so that he could help comfort you after a bad day (although, it might have just been because he wouldn’t stop begging and shut up until he handed some of his stash over. he brings it up every time they bicker to get a leg up on him).

it seemed everyone aside from you knew about this, like an inside joke you missed out on because even the students had the tendency to giggle when seeing you two interact. the only reason scott hasn’t confessed first was simply due to your obliviousness to your own feelings which would likely end in a rejection. it’s not in vanity where he believes this, but in fact when the redhead telepath informed him that you just hadn’t realized what you felt for him wasn’t platonic. realization was inevitable and bound to hit you like a ton of bricks, and after some squealing from embarrassment in your room, it would only be a matter of time before you sought him out to confess. except, no one has the patience to wait for you to do so organically, hence the constant match-matching that has become so common that they don’t even think before doing so sometimes. everyone plays the part of wingman except for charles who thinks they should wait until you’re ready, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t find it highly amusing. 

it was actually the wolverine who suggested picking out a scary movie for tonight as he claimed it was “one of the best ways to get a girl all over ya.” scott didn’t quite believe him at first because it sounded too much like something straight out of a cheesy teen drama, but he now realizes that he shouldn’t question the two-hundred-year-old guy who has more experience with such things than he could imagine.

you tightly gripped on his bicep, not even realizing that your nails were starting to dig into his skin, staring wide-eyed at the projector image as another character died in a rather gruesome way. really, these movies always overdid the blood and gore, but criticizing it was the last thing on his mind because you were currently holding onto him with a vice and he needed to plot his next move.

his eyes began to wander around the dark room to find nearly everyone focused on the film playing in front of them and a couple of students asleep, turning his head subtly to look around behind his red-lensed glasses until he spotted the white-haired weather manipulator doing the same thing because she was bored out of her mind. (isn’t it funny how some people were so uninterested in the movie that they are falling asleep or counting how many heads are in the room while you’re unable to tear your eyes away despite looking like you’re about to cry? you’re so damn cute.)

she mouthed something to him while tilting her head in your general direction, completely inaudible in order not to attract attention. unfortunately for her, scott was an idiot who didn’t know how to read lips even though everyone around him assumes that he’s blind and most of the time he might as well be. she rolled her eyes in frustration, wrapping her arm around jean’s waist (who was understandably a bit confused at first but then did the same) and highlighting the action with a simple motion of her hand— signaling to him that he should do the same.

it looked like a fucking lightbulb went off in his head or something when he mutter a silent “oh” before following her example and pulling you close, resting your head on the side of his chest as if to soothe your fears. it worked like a charm, you buried your face into him and held on for dear life as you braced yourself for another jumpscare, trying to focus on his hand patting your back instead of trembling like crazy. 

“it’s not even that scary, chill out—”

“no! don’t say that!”

scott stopped mid-statement, trying to figure out what the fuck that was until he realized it was jean’s voice in his head. “how did you even hear me from where you’re sitting?”

she ignored his question, so he wasn’t sure if he was just being too loud or if she was already reading his mind to make sure he didn’t fuck up. “don’t finish that sentence, she’ll think you’re making fun of her for being more sensitive towards these things. the poor thing is petrified, how about you take her up to her room instead? i don’t think she’ll be able to stomach the ending of this movie.”

he hummed and nodded in agreement, remembering that everyone dies at the end, pulling on your arm to grab your attention and whispering, “come on, let’s get you out of here.”

you nodded weakly and swallowed, not letting go of him for even a moment as he escorted you out of the living room and up the stairs. “thanks, i didn’t think that the movie would be that terrifying… and we’re showing that to kids?”

“just the older kids, all the younger ones are already in bed.”

“and i’m about to join them,” you shuddered, opening the door of your dark room and cringing at the sound of the hinges squeaking. you lingered at the doorway before turning to look at scott, “could you come hang out in my room with me for a bit?”

“what, you want me to check for monsters under your bed?” he laughed.

“s-shut up! i’ll just go look for logan then!”

“no-no-no, don’t do that, i’ll go with you! i’m much better company than that old man— we can watch some rom-coms until you fall asleep and forget about that stupid movie.”

“i didn’t know you were a fan of rom-coms,” you said, turning on the lights and looking noticeably less afraid as the shadows disappeared. 

“well, i think my life right now is kinda like a rom-com…” he slipped, admiring how your bed had so many stuffed animals meticulously stacked so that none of them would fall off. your room was just like you— cute.

“really? how?”

“i’ll, uh, tell you eventually… it’s a… whole thing, i don’t feel like getting into it tonight— anyway,” he quickly diverted the conversation, digging through your stack of dvds before picking one out. “i haven’t seen this one yet— ‘someone like you’— i’ve heard good things about it— the male lead kinda looks like logan if he took care of himself.”

he’ll tell you soon when he finally hears your confession, or if he goes crazy before then because he has to spend one more day without being able to call you “his.” whichever comes first.

[wolverinesleftclaw]

I LOWKEY, LOWKEY NEED sfw and nsfw alphabet for Wolverine?!!?!?! 😝😝😝 that man has me going INSANE

logan howlett sfw alphabet

pairing : logan howlett x fem!reader warnings : reader uses she/her pronouns, size difference a/n : these are my own thoughts, i understand people may see them differently. i respect that but please don’t leave mean comments 💌

A ➝ Affection (how affectionate are they? how do they show affection?)

⤷ you’re relationship with logan doesn’t start out as the most affectionate. it takes him awhile to get used to sharing his life with someone. even more so it knaws at the back of his mind how small and fragile you are compared to his large size, he’s almost too scared to break you. once you convince him you aren’t made of glass he opens up. he’s obsessed with touching you. always having his hand on some part of you body whether it be your lower back or stomach, he feels without your touch he isn’t grounded.

B ➝ Best Friend (what would they be like as a best friend?)

⤷ logan wouldn’t know how to handle having you as his friend. you’d talk to much and get little back from him. scared to hurt your feelings he would grunt and groan at any question you asked him. it’s not until you pull away from and start hanging around wade that he realizes how much he actually misses you talking his ear off with you excessive hand gestures.

C ➝ Cuddles (do they like to cuddle?)

⤷ at first he wasn’t really into it, but then one night you were watching a movie and you slipped your self into his arms and when he realized how perfect you fit he became obsessed. now whenever the two of you are just relaxing he picks you up and puts you right between his arms

D ➝ Domestic (do they want to settle down?)

⤷ at first the idea of settling down had scared him. you’d approached him with the idea after your friends had gotten engaged and it completely spooked him. he didn’t want to think to far into the future not really knowing whether he’d have one with all the danger in his life. but there was one night you were gathered around a table, your closest friends in suit with a birthday cake lit. the smile on your face was worth more than any lifetime he could live. lost in your face he realized just how truly and deeply he loved you and if he had to spend another two hundred years on this earth he’d do it wearing a ring that signifies that his heart will always belongs to you, long after your gone.

E ➝ Ending (if they had to break up with their partner how would they do it?)

⤷ (i cry) you’d never end things with logan, far too in love with him. he would however, only on the occasion that he was putting your life in danger by being with him. he’d break your heart and tell you it never meant anything because you hating him hurt less than knowing he left and you still loved him.

F ➝ Fiancé (how do they feel about marriage & commitment?)

⤷ he’s obsessed with the idea of giving you the life you deserve while simultaneously giving himself the life he deserves. there’s not a thing in the world he loves more than you.

G ➝ Gentle (how gentle are they? both physically and emotionally)

⤷ he’s extremely gentle with you, always treating you as if you were the most expensive thing in the world. he’s never dare to hurt you, often leaving the house when his anger became to much.

H ➝ Hugs (do they like hugs?)

⤷ oh yes he loves them, feeling your skin against his drives him insane.

I ➝ I love you (how fast do they say i love you)

⤷ it took him awhile, you definitely said it first. he knew the weight of what that word meant for the people he cared about. it meant you not knowing if the next mission would be his last or you being put in danger. it felt selfish of him to feel that way for you.

J ➝ Jealousy (how jealous do they get? what do they do when they get jealous)

⤷ oh boy does this man get jealous. donning you with his dog tags around your neck he easily stakes claim to you. while he knows you aren’t something to posses it’s an animal thing. to claim what’s your and mark your territory. he knew people couldn’t smell the way he could but making sure you always left the house with a hint of his scent always put a smile on his face.

K ➝ Kisses (what are their kisses like? where do they like to kiss you? where do they like to be kissed?)

⤷ MESSY!!! he kisses you like your the last breath of air he’ll ever experience. filled with tongue and teeth he never fails to leave you breathless.

L ➝ Little ones (how are they around children)

⤷ he freezes. he’s scared of them, how small they are and fragile. he’d love to have them with you one day but only if he was guaranteed they would end up like him.

M ➝ Mornings (how are mornings spent)

⤷ usually lazy in bed cuddled up to you, his face in your neck just breathing in your scent.

N ➝ Nights (how are nights spent with them)

⤷ most nights are spent with you showing his old movies and teasing him on how old he is. making jokes that he can’t keep up with you which turns into him showing you how much he definitely can.

O ➝ Open (when would they start revealing themselves?)

⤷ for logan opening up to you meant showing you a side of him that he didn’t want you to see. painting this damaged and broken picture of himself and putting it on display for the most beautiful woman to see. it took him awhile and you were more than willing to wait. you loved him for who he was now, and you knew he wouldn’t be the person he is today without his past. you’d love that too.

P ➝ Patience (how easily angered are they)

⤷ logan is easily angered, while he’s usually not angry with you. you’ve seen his anger up close and personal but he’d never directed it towards you.

Q ➝ Quizzes (how much would they remember about you)

⤷ he’d remember everything. from every dream you’ve ever told him about to every beauty mark on your body. as if it was ingrained in his memory forever haunting his very being.

R ➝ Remember (what is their favorite memory)

⤷ his favorite memory is definitely the night you met, your shower had broke and you knocked on wades door at one am, he’d open the door to find you staring up at his through hopefully eyes.

S ➝ Security (how protective are they?)

⤷ let there be any threat to you and logan’s on it. whether it be the barista was rude when she handed your coffee or some guy catcalling you on the street. he’s eager to make you feel better and quick to let people know you don’t mess with what’s his.

T ➝ Try (how thoughtful are they?)

⤷ it took him awhile to figure out what you liked, whether flowers or extravagant gifts were your style. he remembers every day. the first year of your relationship was spent celebrating that day you met, your first kiss, and even the day he asked you to be his.

U ➝ Ugly (what are some bad habits)

⤷ he shuts down when things get too hard. when he feels you pulling away he gets a nervous and essentially makes it easier for you to leave. you having to often remind him that every argument doesn’t mean your going to leave.

V ➝ Vanity (how concerned are they with their looks)

⤷ he couldn’t care less how he looked always stunned by your beauty.

W ➝ Whole (would they feel incomplete without you)

⤷ if you ever left him he’d claw his own heart out of his chest. you are the only thing that keeps him going. after two hundred long years life was starting to get tiring, but you made living worth it.

X ➝ xtra (a random head cannon for them)

⤷ imagine you banging on wades door at one am, hair wet from the shower you started only for it to go cold. the door swings open and you see logan standing before you. creaking out a hello you ask for wade only for him to be asleep, you quickly enter the apartment reassuring the broody hot man that you’ll only be a minute. but of course you’d forget your towel.

Y ➝ Yuck (what are some things they wouldn’t like)

⤷ honestly he hates silence. after hearing you talk for years the second you silence yourself he knows somethings wrong.

Z ➝ Zzz (what is a sleep habit of theirs)

⤷ logan usually can’t fall asleep without you, being riddled by nightmares. holding you tight to his chest he can finally sleep peacefully.

taglist : @caramelatae @rosewine-5 @rogueinmymind @scarlett-witchh @shiawaseorii @sephirothhh @sturnizd @magpiemayhem @chaoticweirdogeek @hearts4suri @k1t-k4ts @hettie1spam @rockytheluver @mysticpidge @ginamcflurry

[cherrygirlfriend]

ice cold pairing: stanford!bsf!art donaldson x iceskater!reader synopsis: you injure your foot while ice skating, your best friend takes care of you. warnings: fluff! wc: 700 this is very me coded because i literally slipped and injured my foot to the point i couldn't walk properly for two weeks. or the time i fell down the stairs and broke my ankle. bottom line is; i'm as clumsy as the mc of a wattpad story. originally posted 12/19/2024

being on ice felt almost like a second nature to you, and art loved watching you skate, whether it was for an ice show or for a skating competition, watching your white skates almost blending in with the ice as you turned, spun, and jumped in a way that caused his heart to jump in his chest so naturally, he thought that it'd be a great idea to take you out to a skating rink.

you blew on the hot chocolate you held in your hands, covered by a pair of white mittens decorated with adorable pink snowflake patterns, "you do know that i skate every day?" you said with a chuckle, your brows raised and your cheeks stinging from the cold.

"yeah, but you never skate with me." he shrugged, sitting down to put his skates on his feet; honestly, he was sure he was going to fall, not having gone ice skating since he was a teenager himself; he actually had to borrow patrick's ice skates. luckily, they shared the same shoe size.

"have you thought it's because i skate every day?"

"yeah, but you play tennis with me." he quipped back, making you roll your eyes, "i just thought it'd be a fun idea!"

"it is a fun idea." you shrugged, finishing the last of the hot-now-lukewarm chocolate, before placing the mug down, starting to put on your own skates, ones you always wore when you practiced, "i just like giving you shit for no reason."

"of course you do." he chuckled, the two of you making small talk as you tied your respective skates to your feet, hoping the warm liquid would soon start taking effect and warm up your body.

you rose to your feet, holding your hand out to your boyfriend expectantly, "are you ready to embarrass yourself and fall flat on your ass, donaldson?"

"we'll see who's falling flat on their ass."

"did you put a curse on me, or something?" you mumbled, letting out a hiss as you tried to step on your swollen ankle, art stuttering and trying to get you to stop as he sat you down on the bench next to the rink and took off your skate along with wool sock, a nasty, purple spot starting to form on your ankle. "how bad is it?" you asked, and art could tell how desperate you were feeling, how badly you were hoping, praying it wasn't broken.

it all happened in a split second. you'd been doing a pirouette, something you did tens, if not hundreds, of times a day, and suddenly, you were on the ground.

"i'm pretty sure it's just twisted." art said, both of you letting out nearly identical sighs of relief. art, for your health, and you, for your skating.

"thank god." you sighed, "i haven't gotten properly injured while skating since i was, like, thirteen. i have no idea how this happened.

"maybe you just deserved to fall on your ass." art shrugged, causing you to roll your eyes and smacking his arm while exclaiming that he wasn't funny.

the moment you got home, art basically carried you onto the couch while you kept complaining that you were going to be fine, that his fussing wouldn't do any good, but the blonde immediately put three throw pillows under your foot and bringing an ice pack wrapped in a towel, placing it on your slightly swollen ankle.

"i think you should get this checked tomorrow, just in case." art sighed, "i'm just worried-"

you took his hand, bringing it to your lips and placing a small kiss to the back of it, art's eyes widening slightly, "what was that for?"

"for being fussy."

"obviously." he rolled his eyes, "i'm gonna put on some tea, and we can watch anything you want."

"anything?" you asked with a small grin, making him shake his head.

"i'm not watching another low-budget horror movie."

"you said anything!"

and before he knew it, your foot was on art's lap, an ice pack over it as he massaged your ankle, a half-drunk cup of tea, christmas cookies and a bottle of aspirin placed next to the sofa as you snored while cuddling up to a pillow, art's stanford hoodie covering you, while the blonde was trying to ignore hostel still playing on tv, instead focusing on watching your serene face.

[evanpeterswhoresblog]

Behind the Crime

Warren Lipka x f!reader

warnings: smut, unprotected p in v, oral male receiving, dominate warren, underage drinking, underage smoking, use of marijuana, rough sex, hint of choking, talk of robbery, um yeah i think that’s it

summary: from the moment you were brought into the heist, you knew working with warren was going to be hard…

word count: 3.4k

a/n: sorry for not posting guys i have not been on the grind lately. i watched this movie and omfg evan was so attractive i just needed to write. if you’re the real warren lipka just scroll this is about evan…

~~~

You sit back in your chair, the crew members adjusting your mic. You’re starting to regret doing this interview, but it’s too late to back out now. Everything’s already set up, the camera is about to be rolling. The interviewer is sitting a few feet away from you, notes in his hand. He waits for you to give him the signal that you’re ready. You nod, he begins.

“So, y/n, how did you become involved with the group?” He asks.

“I was first approached by Spencer when I was eating lunch outside one day...”

~~~

You were sitting alone, the cool fall breeze almost too cold to be comforting. You didn’t pay much mind to it though, you were more focussed on your studying. You were flipping through the pages of another history article when suddenly there was a presence beside you. Looking up at them as soon as you noticed, you recognized the boy as someone from your class.

“Can I help you?” You asked, your tone polite.

He looked nervous as if he were about to ask you out. “Hi, uh, I don’t know if you remember my name, I’m Spencer we have Art History together.”

“Oh, yeah, I’ve seen you,” you replied. “Do you need help with the homework or something?”

“No, I actually wanted to talk to you about something else, if you’re not busy or anything,” he said, his voice quiet.

You look away for a second before replying. “Sure, sit down if you want I’m not busy.”

He smiled at you before quickly sitting at the spot across from you. He put his bag on the table, you could see him take a deep breath. Was he really going to ask you out? You thought he was cute, but definitely not your type. You started to pray he wouldn’t say anything along those lines.

“I started to ask around a week or two ago about people who are good with computers and stuff, a lot of people told me you were the best person to go to,” he started. He lacked confidence in his voice, you felt bad for the poor guy but paid close attention to his words. “I need some... help with cameras.”

“What kind of cameras?” You asked, intrigued.

What he was saying was true, you were decently good with computers. You mostly would hack into places and disable things you didn’t like, like the cameras on the public library computers. It wasn’t anything illegal, at least you didn’t think it was illegal. It probably was, but you didn’t care.

“Just you know cameras in... semipublic places...”

You raised an eyebrow. “Like what kind though? Phone, laptop, desktop, security?”

“Security,” he answered quietly. “But before you say no listen, how does a couple hundred thousand dollars' worth of payment sound?

“What?”

“I won’t tell you the details till I know you’re on board but let's just say something is going down and we need help with the cameras. The pay would be huge and all you’d have to do is just mess with some cameras for like twenty minutes.”

You only stared at him; your mouth slightly hung open. Was he being serious? Was he really asking you to join him in a potential robbery that would pay hundreds of thousands of dollars? You never would’ve expected to be asked such a question on a cloudy Thursday at lunch. You shut your book completely and look around to make sure nobody is close.

“This money, it’s guaranteed?”

He nods. “As long as we get the job done, you’ll have it.”

You knew it was crazy, you knew whatever was going to happen would either result in you going to prison or having to run off into hiding. But the thought of being able to pay all your student loans off and have extra money to live off of was more appealing. Hacking into cameras wasn’t that hard, and it wasn’t going to hurt anyone. Unless it was.

“If you’re trying to get me to make sure a murder or rape isn’t on camera I’ll snitch,” you warned him.

“Oh no, nothing like that is happening at all. It’s just you know a robbery,” he replied, his expression genuine.

You nodded your head, convinced whatever he was asking couldn’t be that bad. “Okay, yeah, I’ll do it.”

~~~

“What was your first impression of the guys?

You smile. “They were really cool, funny, just overall really fun people to hang out with.”

“Do you remember the first time you met all of them?”

“Of course, like it was yesterday...”

~~~

The house you sat in front of didn’t look like a typical criminal's house. It looked like an average American’s family house actually. You were parked out on the road outside the house Spencer told you to go to, you were meeting the rest of the people involved with the robbery. It had been about ten minutes of you sitting out there debating whether or not to go in before you got a text from Spencer asking where you were. You sighed, praying to God this decision was the right one before getting out of your car.

You knocked on the front door with a shaky fist. You started to regret your decision, you thought about turning around and leaving, but the door was opened before you could act on it. An older woman stood in front of you, she looked to be in her 50s.

“Oh, you’re very pretty,” she said, making your cheeks turn red. “You’re here to see Warren, right?”

You had no idea who Warren was, but you nodded. The lady's smile grew, and she opened the door for you and ushered you inside. She directed you to the basement entrance, asking you a million questions you had no answers to. After those few but excruciating painful minutes though, you walked down the basement stairs and finally caught sight of Spencer.

There were three other guys in the room and all of their eyes were on you. Two, along with Spencer, were sitting on a couch. One of them was skinny with glasses, the other muscular with no glasses. They didn’t grasp your attention though. The last guy who was standing did. He had long dark curly hair, and eyes to match. His eyes met yours before you watched them slowly move up and down your body. You didn’t know how to react.

“Guys, this is y/n,” Spencer said, breaking you out of your thoughts.

“Hello, I’m Eric,” the guy with glasses introduced himself.

“Chas,” the muscular guy spoke, not paying much attention to you. “Are you sure this was a good idea, Spence? How much do we really know about this chick? No offense.”

“Shut up, we agreed,” Spencer hissed. He waved you over and you complied, walking to the couch and sitting on the end beside him.

The standing guy took a step forward and held out his hand to you. You looked up at him before accepting his handshake. His hand was rough, you liked the feeling of it in yours. “I’m Warren and you are our cameraman or woman I guess.”

You laughed. “I guess.”

“How much has Spencer told you?” Warren asked after letting go of your hand and stepping back. It was then you noticed the maps on the wall with drawings all over them, the layout looked familiar.

“Just that I need to hack some cameras and that it’ll pay me a lot,” you answered. “I don’t even know what you guys are stealing.”

“Well y/n, I’m sure you’ve been to your own school's library right?”

You nodded.

“Have you ever taken a tour of the library’s rare book collection?”

You nodded again.

Warren smirked. “Then you know exactly what we’re stealing.”

Your face fell and you immediately looked at Spencer and the rest of the guys. “Are you serious? You guys want to steal historic books?”

“I told you this was a bad idea,” Chas mumbled from his chair.

“Shut up Chas,” Warren quickly snapped. He looked back at you, his dark eyes engulfing yours completely. “We’ve been planning this out for months, and you are the last piece to our puzzle y/n. Think about how much you’ll be earning.”

You didn’t say anything. Maybe it was a bad idea.

~~~

“Chas eventually stopped being cold to me, I actually think in the end he became my closest friend in the group,” you say, finishing your story.

The interviewer gives you a look. “Well, besides Warren right?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” you reply, a confused look on your face.

“I have to ask if the stories are true, you know about you and him. The other guys say something changed between the two of you after a party you all attended. I mean, didn’t the police even question if your involvement had a deeper meaning than simply the money?”

You shake your head, giving your best performance. “Me and Warren were only ever best friends, there was never a deeper meaning behind anything.”

~~~

Music was pumping through your body, from the tips of your toes to the top of your head you could feel it. It had been a few weeks since you met the guys, and they all wanted to do something fun before the heist. So, a frat party was naturally the easiest option. That’s where you were now, already two shots and half a joint in. You didn’t know where Spencer, Nick, and Warren were, but Chas was dancing with you.

Though the two of you got off on the wrong foot, you and Chas quickly learned how well you get along. He was a good friend, all of the guys were. You liked how easily they could make you laugh and brighten your mood. They were all good people who you enjoyed being around.

Warren was the only one that you felt different for. You didn’t know why, but from the first day you met you knew your feelings for him would be different than the other three. The way he looked at you alone was completely different than the others. There was always something darker in his eyes, something you knew wasn’t supposed to be there for simply a friend. Every time the two of you looked at each other, your stomach filled with butterflies. You wanted it too. But in those first few weeks, nothing had happened. No matter how much either of you wanted it.

After some minutes of you and Chas dancing, Warren and Spencer appeared. They asked if the two of you wanted to go out and smoke, you both agreed and followed them outside the back. Not too many people were in the backyard, but there were enough for there to be a bonfire going. The four of you found an empty spot near the fire and sat down. Warren took out a joint and lit it before passing it around.

“Where’s Nick?” You asked after taking a hit.

Spencer shrugged. “Probably with the weird kids doing weird stuff.”

“He’s not that weird,” Chas replied. “He’s just awkward.”

You watched as Warren took another long hit of the joint. Because of the weed and alcohol, you found yourself even more attracted to him than when you were sober. You wanted so desperately to run your fingers through his hair, you wanted to hear his voice as you touched him. He suddenly met your gaze, his lips curled up into a mesmerizing smile. You wanted to kiss him. It was too much for you to handle.

You swallowed and stood up, brushing the dirt off your shorts. “I need to um use the bathroom.”

You didn’t wait for any of their replies. Instead, you rushed back into the house straight to the kitchen. You poured yourself a shot, downing it before giving it a second thought. You needed these feelings to go away. How were you supposed to work with Warren if you couldn’t even look at him without thinking about having sex with him? It made you feel awful. A hookup couldn’t be the reason the robbery went bad, you refused to let that happen.

After another shot, you started to forget about your feelings. In fact, you started to forget about Warren completely. All you felt was the burning sensation of the alcohol in your stomach and chest, it felt good. You stumbled out of the kitchen and into the hallway, grabbing the railings of the staircase for support. Suddenly, you felt a presence next to you, their hand on your back.

“Y/N, are you good?” It was Warren.

You turned your head and looked at him, God how could he look even better? “No- I’m not okay.”

“You’re wasted, you need some water,” he said. He moved his hand around your waist and pulled you up straight. You felt like you were on fire. “Come on, back to the kitchen.”

“Why are you here? I just- I just wanna forget about you,” you mumbled.

He started helping you walk back to the kitchen. “What? Why would you want to forget about me?”

“Because... I want you but I can’t have you. I thought you- felt the same that’s why it’s been so hard to resist,” you spoke, stumbling over your words. “I can’t look at you without thinking about you fucking me.”

Even in your drunken state, you could still see the cockiness on Warren’s face. He lifted you up onto the kitchen counter effortlessly before turning and getting you a cup of water. You leaned your head back against one of the cabinets, your head was spinning. You couldn’t think straight.

“Drink,” Warren’s voice filled your ears.

You lifted your head and grabbed the solo cup from his hand, downing the water faster than ever. When you finished, you threw the cup to the floor, your eyes meeting Warren’s once again. He was standing close enough that if you reached, you could touch him.

Perhaps it was because of the alcohol, or perhaps it was because of how long you’d felt the tension between you two, that gave you the courage to gently place your hand on the top of his head. His hair was soft, just like you’d expected it to be. You smiled and played with his curls. He didn’t object, you were glad. You needed this.

“Do you want me?” You asked, your voice barely audible against the loud music.

“What do you think?”

You shrugged. “I thought so, but I could always be wrong.”

“Maybe I should make it clearer,” he said. He grabbed your wrist and pulled your hand off his head before stepping closer to you. “If this house wasn’t crowded, I’d fuck you right here, right now.”

Your heart was racing, your cheeks bright red. You couldn’t believe this was happening. Warren was still holding your wrist, it sent electric shocks throughout your body. His eyes began to shift from your eyes to your lips and so on. You swallowed; a lump had formed in your throat.

“There’s probably an empty room somewhere,” you mentioned. “You could take me to one of them and show me you mean what you say.”

Warren raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know, you’re pretty drunk.”

“I’m not- I swear. I consent, I’ll remember all of this in the morning,” you replied quickly.

“All right.”

Before you could say anything else, Warren scooped you into his arms and began to carry you through the house. You didn’t know whether to pretend you were drunk so it wouldn’t look suspicious or stay awake to also not make it look suspicious. You chose to stay awake and within minutes you and Warren were alone in a bedroom, your lips connected.

The kiss was fast and rough, everything you expected from him. His arms were wrapped around your waist, he towered over you. You wasted no time, immediately kicking off your shoes and pushing Warren back until he fell onto the bed. He pulled you on top of him, guiding your hips in slow motions over his clothed erection. You felt like you were on fire, you needed more.

You broke this kiss and leaned back so you were straddling him. You pulled off your shirt and bra, Warren followed your actions. Once your eyes fell upon his toned abdomen, you audibly moaned. You quickly leaned down again and kissed his chest, beginning a trail down his body. Each breath that left his mouth made your pussy drip even more. And when you reached his navel, his breaths turned into soft whispers.

“Keep going.”

“Please.”

“I’ll do anything.”

When you no longer had any skin left to kiss you looked back up at him, his eyes were already on you. He got your signal and instantly pulled his shorts and boxers off, leaving him completely naked. You weren’t surprised at his size; you had a feeling he’d be big. You started off by slowly stroking him with your hand, the expressions on his face already enough to make you cum.

After a minute or so of that, you bent down and pressed a small kiss to his tip. You loved the way his leg twitched. It made you proud. So, you took him into your mouth. He gasped, one of his hands finding its way to the back of your head. He didn’t push you; he only twirled your hair back into a ponytail-like style and gripped it tight. You moved your head up and down, taking as much of him in your mouth as you could. You were never a fan of giving head to guys, but with Warren, it was a different story.

Not much time passed before Warren pushed you gently, telling you he wasn’t going to last much longer. You didn’t care, you wanted him to finish in your mouth. But he told you he wanted to have sex, so you stopped. You peeled off your shorts and underwear before you climbed back onto him. His naked body against yours felt unreal, you were almost convinced this was all part of your drunken imagination.

However, when Warren pulled your head down and began to kiss your lips again, you knew it had to be real. His hands gripped your ass, kneading and playing with your skin. You positioned his tip at your entrance, you were so wet you didn’t need any lube. You broke the kiss and looked into his eyes, you wanted to know it was okay. He gave you a nod and so you began to push yourself down on him.

He filled you well, just the perfect amount. You had thrown your head back, a moan escaping your lips. You hadn’t had sex in months, and this was the perfect way to break that streak. You started to move your body forward and backward while simultaneously going up and down. Warren’s grip on your ass tightened with each movement you made.

“Fuck baby,” he moaned. “You do it so well.”

Your confidence was boosted; you began to move faster. This only lasted a few minutes though, much to your dismay. You weren’t too athletic; you didn’t have good stamina. Warren noticed this, and without saying anything he flipped your bodies. Once on top of you, he began violent thrusts. You almost screamed from the pleasure; you’d never felt anything remotely close to it in your life. He hit your cervix each time, it made your back arch off the mattress and your nails dig into his back.

“Warren,” you whimpered. “Oh, fuck Warren.”

One of his hands wrapped around your neck. He didn’t squeeze, he just rested it there. You felt the knot in your stomach form at this. It felt so good to be dominated by him. It had been your dream for weeks, and it had finally come true. You closed your eyes and let the feeling of Warren fucking you fill your senses.

When you came, you practically screamed his name. You swore you could see stars. You’d never experienced an orgasm so hard in your life. Warren came a few seconds after you, you felt his dick pulsing inside you. He collapsed on you. You didn’t care about how his weight crushed you, you still held him as the two of you began to come down from your highs.

~~~

As the crew packs up, you remain in your chair, staring blankly out one of your windows. The interviewer is still across from you, but you don’t notice until he speaks.

“Just tell me one thing, off the record,” he says, grabbing your attention. “Did you love him?”

A small smile grows on your lips. “With all my heart.”

[dalekofchaos]

Friendly reminder. Bruce Wayne hung up the suit and retired after THREATENING someone with a gun and this was his reaction.

And then his immediate reaction is to shut down and close the Batcave and his only words were. "Never again"

A truly tragic, but fitting way for Bruce’s career to end. Powerful stuff. Batman's career ended the same way it began: with a desperate man wielding a gun

Batman choosing not to be weak like Joe Chill >>>> Batman going on a killing spree because fighting crime is hard.

And by the way, since Zack Snyder says his inspiration was Dark Knight Returns, I got news for you, TDKR Batman doesn't kill either.

Zack Snyder is a complete blithering fucking idiot.

his statement on Batman just lines up with what I’ve seen from all of his work. He likes the idea of the comics he makes movies out of but he doesn’t actually understand their themes. A Batman that kills is pointless. An edgy Superman is not only the most boring way to write him, but doesn’t make any sense without the wholesome one. That’s why injustice Superman/brightburn/Plutonian/omniman/homelander kind of make sense in their own ways because the original exists to compare them to.(mostly also boring though) His take on watchmen was pretty much devoid of any of the actual commentary from the graphic novel, but instead was just a dark justice league that were pretty bad at their jobs. Rorschach was just framed as a kind of unhinged Batman, but still a badass that does good, which is wildly generous compared to the way he’s originally written. I can understand turning your brain off and coasting through an action movie, but his fans are delusional if they think he does any of these stories justice. I wouldn’t take any of his comments seriously if they would stop letting him make these mediocre movies.

Zack Snyder is all flash and no substance. His films are visually stunning but utterly lacking in compelling storytelling.

The point of Batman is he cannot 'stoop to their level'. He HAS to be better, he HAS to believe these criminals can be rehabilitated, because if he kills them, he becomes just like them. With his wit, his intellect, he could future proof the city against crime ever happening by just killing the criminals before they commit crimes based on probable statistics and similar themes. But a Batman who refuses to kill is a murderer by inaction. Every time he chooses not to put Joker in the ground, he's allowed him to slaughter dozens, hundreds more, just for a laugh. Batman is equally guilty for every one of those deaths, because he could simply kill the Joker, and stop him from ever killing again. But he doesn't. Snyder saying Batman can kill, Batman SHOULD kill, is to say that without batman doing so, or being able to, he is just as bad as the villians. Except dipshit doesn't even have his Batman kill The Joker. "Oopsie daisy, Joker got out and bombed a hospital full of people, sowwwwyyyy, I put him back in jail again dunt worry TeeHeee :3". And then next week we do it all over again. OR. You kill the Joker, and he never hurts another person again. Which is why Jason Todd works so well as a counter to batman, and SHOULD be what Snyder is looking into. The reason why Zod works so well as a villain is because Humans are flawed apes who cant be trusted to govern themselves and should be conquered, and Superman, a literal God, could fix all that, but doesn't, because of Hope. Its foolish, childish even, to consider that a solution. And when placed in the vacuum of a comic book it works because you have to suspend disbelief, and forget that Superman let a city full of people die while he punched Zod through skyscrapers.

If you want Batman to kill people, just go and read one of his 1784956th copies that kill people. Go read Midnighter. Go read Punisher. Go read Moon Knight. Go read Peacemaker. Go read Nighthawk. What is stopping you?

I'm sure all those characters have brought about the peace and prosperity and the crime-free society that a "killer Batman" was supposed to. "Punisher would clean Gotham in under a week", right, just like he cleaned Marvel's New York, didn't he?

It has to be Batman specifically the one doing the killing? The number of superheroes that kill is nowadays much higher than the number of heroes who don't. Remember how Hawkeye spent the better part of his existence being the most anti-killing Avenger? Nowadays he is known as a super-assassin that "never had a non-kill rule". Should heroes who don't kill go extinct?

I like that Batman doesn't kill people. I feel no need to turn him into something he isn't like it was done to Hawkeye. If I wanted a Batman that kills, I would go and read one of the thousand "Batman who kills" out there.

Batman should not kill and should never kill.

"Gotham would be better off if Batman just killed The Joker"

You. Miss. The. Entire. Point.

Bruce Wayne lost his parents to crime and Bruce Wayne is a child who died alongside his parents and was reborn as a creature dedicated to insuring it never happened to any other child. He made a vow never to reduce himself to the criminal scum’s level or to Joe Chill’s level. He never kills for a reason.

Batman not killing is what makes him so compelling, if he kills criminals, there is no moral conflict, he is no better than the Punisher, Wolverine or any other dark edgy hero. Hell, if he starts to take a life, Batman is no better than Ra’s Al Ghul.

In the Daredevil Netflix show, Frank Castle told Daredevil this “That’s not how this works. You cross over to my side of the line, you don’t get to come back from that. Not ever.” That alone is why Batman should not kill, not even The Joker. Bruce Wayne is not Frank Castle, stop trying to make him Frank Castle. I mean…Stan Lee was absolutely disgusted when someone called The Punisher a hero, Frank Castle is a murderer, not a hero. How is this so hard for people to understand?

I don’t want to hear that Batman killed in the old comics and I don’t want to hear Elseworld stories. It’s an established fact that Batman does not kill and it’s a big part of his character.

Guess what? We already got a Bruce who killed The Joker, it happened in the Burtonverse/Schumacherverse and he was disgusted with himself. “So, you're willing to take a life.” “Long as it's Two-Face.” “Then it will happen this way: You make the kill, but your pain doesn't die with Harvey, it grows. So you run out into the night to find another face, and another, and another, until one terrible morning you wake up and realize that revenge has become your whole life. And you won't know why.”

A huge part of Bruce’s character is that he doesn’t kill, no matter what. Same with Clark. But edgelord writers from the New 52, DCEU and the Injustice abominations think it’s cool to make heroes kill. Heroes should not kill. You can’t be a hero and a killer. IT DOESN’T WORK THAT WAY!

Guess what would happen if Batman kills The Joker? The Joker wins. The Joker and Batman are each trying to prove a point to society - and really to us, the readers. The Joker wants Batman to kill him because he perfectly embodies chaos and anarchy and wants to prove a point to everyone that people are basically more chaotic than orderly. This is why he is so scary: we are worried he may be right. If the Joker is right, then civilization is a ruse and we are all truly monsters inside. If the Joker can prove that Batman - the most orderly and logical and self-controlled of all of us - is a monster inside, then we are all monsters inside, and that is terrifying. The Joker is terrifying because we fear that we are like him deep down - that he is us. Batman is what we (any average person) could be at our absolute best, and the Joker is what we could be at our absolute worst. The Joker’s claim is that we are all terrible deep down, and it is only the law and our misplaced sense of justice that keeps us in line. Since Batman isn’t confined by the law, he is a perfect test case to try to get him to "break.” The Joker wants Batman to kill a person, any person, but knows that the only person Batman might ever even remotely consider killing would have to be a terrible monster, so is willing to do this himself and sacrifice himself to prove this macabre point. Batman needs to prove that it is not just laws that keep us in line, but basic human decency and our natural instinct NOT to kill. If Batman can prove this, then others will be inspired by his example (the citizens of Gotham, but again, also the readers), just as we are all inspired every day to keep civilization running smoothly and not descend into violence, anarchy, and chaos. This ability to be decent in the face of the horrors and temptations present all around us is humanity’s superpower, the superpower of each of us. The struggle of Batman and the Joker is the internal struggle of each of us. But we are inspired by Batman’s example, not the Joker’s, because Batman always wins the argument, because he has not killed the Joker.

Batman not killing matters. Batman stories to me are the ultimate tale of turning pain and suffering into something positive. That is a story that everyone can relate to because let's be honest here. The world can suck. I've experienced and probably will always experience feelings of fear of depression of anger of angst. It's in my nature as a human being to experience those things. It's in all our nature it is what we choose to do with that pain that we all feel that defines us. Batman chose to turn all those negative emotions, he feels into a symbol that can bring people. Hope that Batman will save us from pain but more importantly hope that we can all be Batman. Why do we fall? And Batman Begins explains this best “Why do we fall sir? So that we can learn to pick ourselves up.”

Yes, Bruce Wayne is a flawed crazy person. He is at times mean stubborn and even abusive but he is still good. He is still someone we can aspire to be. We can try our hardest to be Superman but no human being can fly, but we can still try to be Batman We can all try to turn our pain into something good when I see Batman killing people or fans saying he killed before and he should kill The Joker, It pains me. It actually hurts my soul. Batman is not about finding a way to kill evil. But try to redeem it. His mission is an impossible task. Maybe he should kill people. Maybe he should kill The Joker, but what makes him fascinating what makes him a hero Is the fact that he has that moral code and stopped himself from crossing that line That's why I always looked up to Batman even as a kid despite all the adult subtext or mature themes superheroes are for kids. And killing is not Batman and it is not Bruce Wayne. This is why I hated the portrayal in the DCEU and the Burtonverse and why I really hated the implication that Batman killed The Joker in Batwoman. A Batman who kills is certainly not Bruce Wayne, that is an interpretation of Bruce Wayne that completely misses the point of Batman. It's easy to kill. Batman does not make the easy choice… Batman does not kill.

[rebelliousstories]

Fallout

Cooper “The Ghoul” Howard

Peachy

Lucy gets a front row seat to the strange happenings in the Wasteland.

Pretty as a Peach

There’s something odd about this girl that had started traveling with the duo. But it does give Lucy a peak behind the curtain on the Wasteland’s most notorious partners in crime.

Not On My Watch

(Request) There is something that can flip a switch in even the most trusting of men; jealousy. Now what switch that is all depends on the man.

Faces of Old, Faces of New

Holing up in some abandoned movie theater, Cooper is shocked to find one of his old films still in the projector.

My Father’s Daughter

(Request) When his buddy calls, Cooper has no clue the whirlwind he is in for.

Vaultie

(Request) If Cooper Howard had a nickel for every time he came across an escaped vault dweller looking to find her father and to change the world…

Not Like The Movies

(Request)How Cooper got landed with someone of her sunny disposition, he will never now. And it does not help that she knows his films.

Toxic as Rads

(Request)They had not been alright for a long time. They would breakup, and then make up. A vicious cycle with no foreseeable end.

Bounty

(Request)When a bounty comes in, Cooper is intent on cashing in. The caps they were offering were worth it. How in the hell does she stay ahead of him?

Ex Lover’s Lover

Cooper Howard gets introduced to a new up and coming actress after his divorce is finalized. What happens when Barb finds out that Janey has been spending time with the two of them?

My Baby Shot Me Down

After a stint on set, Cooper has to call into question whether or not being a relationship is beneficial for her.

Rock A Bye Baby

(Request) Two hundred years seems like a long time, but there is somethings that never change; no matter how much time had passed.

Old Wounds

She was supposed to be dead. He held her while she died in his arms. How is she here?

Out and About

(Request)When a kid suddenly pops up in the Wasteland, you treat that child like a bear cub; don’t even look at it until you’ve confirmed it’s alone.

Safe and Sound

(Request)This child was still so small, defenseless, and vulnerable. Although Cooper keeps trying to help her out on basic skills to survive the Wastelands.

Over and Under

A ghoul, a child, a vault-dweller, and a dog meet up, by chance, in the Wasteland…

Wear My Ring Around Your Neck

(Request)Wedding rings can be common and look like any other ring. Some are really extravagant and can be easily spotted out in a crowd. The same could be said for people; even years and years later.

Ain’t That A Pretty Sight

This is the story of how Cooper fell in love with his wife again, Janey gets excited, and Barb makes this about her.

Series:

Kiss Me You Animal

The Ghoul and The Freak meet by chance, and what follows is a whirlwind of a time together.

Vacation (Ficmas 2024)

How do you take your white Christmas; snow or sand?

Kiss (ValenFics 2025)

A ghoul and a normie walk into a bar…

Norm MacLean

Speak Now

(Request)On what is supposed to be the happiest day of her life, she can not help but feel Norm is hiding something.

What We Have Seen

(Request)When the plan to repopulate Vault 32 is set into motion, two people have to find a way to work around the set backs.

What Did You Say?

(Request)The whole reason they got married was with the goal of repopulation. That is why anyone in the Vaults gets married. Being married to Norm is a challenge all on its own.

Take My Breath Away

(Request) Finding out they were expecting was one thing. Actually being there through the pregnancy is another.

Maximus

First

(Request)When you finally get over one hurdle, there is another waiting for you.

Awkward Glances

(Request) He was an aspirant. She was a medic. Could I make it anymore obvious?

[7-wonders]

It's Just a Bunch of Hocus Pocus!

Summary: It's Halloweekend, and you've got a couple of parties to attend! Morpheus, who missed out on the development of Halloween into the holiday it is today, is very curious about what your plans are.

Word count: 1.8k

And now, a note from the author: Ahhh Claire actually managed to write something! I loved coming up with and writing this; I was giggling the entire time. As always, if you enjoyed, likes, comments, and reblogs (but especially the last two!) make my world go round. If you didn't like it, also let me know! I'm always down to hear constructive feedback/criticism—it's how we become better writers.

Though reader is wearing a skirt, the gender of reader is not specified! If you're non-binary or a guy and you wouldn't mind dressing up in a skirt for a group costume, I hope you enjoy this fic too!

It’s not often that Dream of the Endless visits you in your realm, instead of vice versa. While he had met you in the Waking, he had never been entirely comfortable there. That feeling, that wrongness, only increased tenfold after his imprisonment at the hands of Roderick Burgess. No, Morpheus is not overly fond of the Waking.

Tonight, however, he’s here, and you have a pretty good inkling as to why. 

Though Morpheus would never admit it, hearing you talk helps to calm him down when he’s feeling stressed (another thing he would never admit to: stress). After a frustrating day of holding court—one of his least favorite things to do, but one that was integral to the functioning of his realm—you decided that telling him about your plans for the week would be a bland enough topic where he would not have to actually listen to your words, but simply your voice. Your plan seemed to be working; you could feel his body relaxing in your arms, and you had never been more relieved to hear the absentminded hums of someone who was only half-listening to a conversation.

At some point, you mentioned that you were excited about the Halloween parties that you would be attending. That got his attention, drawing him out of the reverie that your voice and your fingers carding through his hair had lulled him into. He shifted in your hold, his black pools of stars looking up at you curiously.

“All Hallows’ Eve is not for another week though, yes?” he asked.

“Yeah, but it’s during the week this year, which means everybody celebrates the weekend before.”

“Why not celebrate on the day itself? Traditionally, Samhain is a very important holiday.”

Now the miscommunication made sense in your mind. It was only natural that he still thought of the holiday as what it was before 1916. “Oh! Halloween has evolved a lot, especially in the past hundred years. It doesn’t really resemble the Samhain of old.”

He still looks a little confused but nods. “How interesting. So you will also be participating in these…festivities early?”

“Festivities” was a good way to put it, and you decided to just leave it at that. How the hell else were you supposed to explain to your eons-old, all-powerful boyfriend that the Halloween of today is about wearing a fun/sexy costume, doing spooky activities like haunted houses or watching scary movies, and partying?

“Yep!” you said. “I have plans with friends; we’re going to wear our costumes and go celebrate with others.”

“What will your costume be?”

“I’m not quite sure yet. I have a couple of different ones, so I’ll probably decide the day of.”

That interest in modern Halloween, specifically how you celebrate Halloween, is why you’re not really all that surprised when you hear him call your name from the other side of the bathroom door while you’re taking a shower.

“In here, my love!” You just barely have to raise your voice, knowing that he’ll still hear you above the sound of water raining down. The bathroom door opens, and you stick your head out of the shower curtain. You very happily accept the kiss that he offers you. “Hi.”

“Hello.” His voice, deep and as smooth as dark chocolate, rumbles through your ears in a way that you’ll never tire of. It’s impossible to resist giving him one more kiss (can you be blamed?), so you give in to the temptation.

“Give me five minutes and then I’ll be done, okay?”

Though it’s very reluctant, he does part from you. It takes you a little less than that to finish with your shower, and you open the door again so that you can at least be in the same space as Morpheus while you hurriedly put some makeup on (thankfully your costume doesn’t require anything drastic beyond what you normally wear). He’s sitting patiently on your bed, eyes already trained on you as you move through your getting-ready routine.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. “You almost never visit me in the Waking.” 

You’re teasing him, since, as previously mentioned, you know exactly why he’s here. Naturally, Morpheus doesn’t catch on. “I wished to see you off before your Hallowe’en celebration.”

“That’s sweet of you!” To the bedroom you go, where your costume sits waiting atop your dresser. “I’m just about ready to go, I only need to finish putting my costume on.” 

Morpheus’s face grows flushed at the easy compliment you give him (you don’t think he’s ever been called ‘sweet’) and you laugh quietly before disappearing back through the bathroom with costume in tow.

A couple of months ago, two of your friends decided that being the Powerpuff Girls was the move for this Halloween and roped you into the idea. One of your friends, a natural blonde, claimed Bubbles before the idea could even fully be discussed. Your other friend was very excited to be a bearded Blossom and wear a giant bow on his head. This left Buttercup for you to dress up as, not that you were complaining.

Now, you’re sliding into a green crop top and a matching green skirt, this piece being made out of a shiny material. All three of your skirts are the same fabric (and definitely shorter than what’s considered decent), with the shirts being dealer’s choice. You finish your outfit off with black tights and a black headband—Bubbles is also wearing black tights, while Blossom will be sporting black knee-highs. All in all, it’s a pretty simple costume, but sometimes, that’s what the best costumes are.

You emerge from the bathroom once more and do a little twirl for Morpheus, whose eyes immediately light up. “This is very much a pop culture reference, so I’m not expecting you to understand the costume. Still, I think it turned out pretty good!”

Morpheus is not a man—the anthropomorphic personification of the collective unconscious, the Lord of Dreams and Ruler of the Nightmare Realm, simply chooses this as his favored form. Still, he is a man-shaped being, and like all man-shaped beings, he goes a little wild for the object of his affection in a short skirt.

“You will be wearing this in public?” he asks, standing up and approaching you.

Morpheus has lived for as long as beings have been able to dream. He quite literally lived through the Beginning when Adam and Eve didn’t know what clothes were, as well as a number of empires for whom clothing was merely a suggestion. The affront he’s showing at the clothes you’re wearing must be some sort of code for “this is my partner wearing something I consider sexy and I’m feeling possessive about other people seeing them.” That he looks at you as though you’re wearing the barest scraps of clothing and not dressing up as a cartoon superhero has you feeling mighty powerful.

You’d be lying if you said that didn’t turn you on a little bit.

“This is tame compared to what a lot of other people wear,” you inform him.

Morpheus does not look as though he’s listening. No, he’s focused on your body rather than your words. One hand rests on your waist to pull you closer to him, and the other hand comes to rest on your upper thigh where the skirt ends. He rubs the skirt between his thumb and index finger as though he’s testing the fabric. 

“Am I correct in assuming that costumes are no longer worn to disguise the wearer from errant spirits?”

“Yes, you’re correct.” Right now though, explaining the traditions of Halloween is not important to you. You need some validation, and stat. “But do you like it?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Thank you,” you say smugly, smacking his hand as he tries to slip it higher under your skirt. “Not tonight. I have to meet up with the gang soon!”

“Might I make a suggestion?” 

You nod. No matter how outlandish the suggestion, you’d listen to him make it, and you’d probably take it into strong consideration.

Morpheus places a delicate kiss on your jaw before he trails his lips to your ear. “Forget about your friends and stay with me for the evening,” he whispers seductively.

Oh, but that is tempting. You can already imagine the way in which Morpheus would remove your costume, the feeling of his hands on your body as he makes you forget about anything outside of you and him and the pleasure you bring each other. From the darkened look he gives you, he’s already picked up on these daydreams, and he’s in total agreement of that order of events. 

Unfortunately, your brain, that traitorous organ, reminds you of why you shouldn’t be absconding to the Dreaming with your lover.

You sigh in frustration at the logic and lean your forehead against his. “I would, but I’ve had these plans for a couple of weeks now, and I really am looking forward to them.”

Though it very obviously pains Morpheus to say it, he does agree. “Yes, I suppose it would be…rude to abandon them.”

“I should probably go,” you say begrudgingly, pulling away from him and focusing intently on gathering what you’ll need so that you don’t give in to your desire.

Morpheus watches as you whirl around the room, muttering the name of each item as you grab them. Your phone is annoyingly elusive, and you think you’ll just have to go without it until it’s dangled in front of you by your Dreamlord. Gratefully, you take it from him.

“Thank you,” you say sheepishly. That’s the last of your belongings, but you feel like you can stall just a bit longer. He’s heard about your plans, but you haven’t heard of his. “What will you do while I’m gone?”

“Wait for you to return to my embrace once more,” he teases.

“Please try to do something instead of moping the whole time.”

“I do not mope!”

You give him a look, one that says you see right through this charade. “Yes. You do. I’m sure there’s a new book you’ll want to read. Maybe ask Lucienne what she’s been working on, or start creating a new nightmare?”

“Are you not going to be late?” Morpheus deflects. It makes you laugh, but he is right, so you do a once-over of your room to make sure you’re not missing anything and kiss him briefly.

“Bye. I love you.”

“I love you as well, my starlight. You remember how to call for me should you run into trouble?” Of course you do: write down his name and speak it. It’s cute of him to act like he won’t try to have Matthew follow you, though.

You can’t help but smile at the sweet gesture. “Yes, I remember. I’ll be fine, okay?”

He nods, satisfied. “I shall see you later, then.”

You’re able to sneak in one more kiss before he’s off and you’re heading to your front door, already counting down the hours until your night of partying is over. Who knew dressing up like a Powerpuff Girl could get someone so hot and heavy?

If Morpheus thinks that’s attractive, just wait until he sees the angel costume you’re wearing tomorrow.

[almondemisewriting]

doomed to repeat

prologue: original sin

This story happened a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away. It is already over. Nothing can be done to change it. - Matthew Stover

notes: as mentioned before on my main blog @almondemise, I recently watched the acolyte while recovering from an infection and became rather obsessed with it. I fear this might be my roman empire. star wars had never really interested me but you can count on the fact that I watched every single of those movies after finishing the acolyte. although I haven't written fanfiction in years, I better put this english degree to work. no oshamir as I fear I can't do them justice. / banners are by @cafekitsune & gif by @goodsirs

summary: after Osha and Mae had banded together and betrayed Qimir in the forest of Khofar, he killed them. now, once again, he was alone. how good that he had already been working on another plan. on the other end of the galaxy, there was a girl born out of pure force. a weapon raised for one reason only: to kill him. but the force works in mysterious ways.

word count: 3.6k

pairing: qimir x female oc; the stranger x female oc

warnings: english is my second language, jedi evil arc, manipulation, psychological abuse, physical abuse, violence, martyrdom and other religious themes, probably inaccurate star wars lore & deviation from both plot and general worldbuilding, explicit content and other sensitive themes in following chapters

She had never chosen to be the Chosen one. Her destiny of martyrdom was forced onto her as retribution for her original sin: being born. All the suffering Amalthea endured throughout her life never could quite make up for it.

In fact, Amalthea had never made a decision, she was simply an amalgamation of all the choices made for her. She had no particular feelings about it. It was not like hate was a feeling that was allowed for her to feel anyway. There were dozens of rules for her to follow, a hundred things being forbidden to feel, a million things not allowed to experience, all for her safety.

If pride was allowed, Amalthea would have been proud of being good at following rules. It made her life easy, but it also made her lonely. Late at night, she lay awake, a blanket of unhappiness weighing her down, the viciousness of isolation gnawing on her bones so tangible that she bit her lips bloody. There was no one she could talk to. Amalthea was not allowed to speak to anyone unless spoken to. Emergencies excluded, of course. An easy rule to follow.

But at Anantore Point, only a couple of people were authorized to talk to her at all. Her days were spent in perpetual silence, thinking, listening. Often she went days without talking to anyone. It helped that people usually ignored her, acted like she was part of the furniture, her Cortosis ring and the veil helping to keep her hidden. Amalthea often imagined the others not being able to see her at all.

Until a year ago, no one bothered to correct her daydreams. It would have been worse if there were people who actually wanted to talk to her. A connection. Any connection. Amalthea vastly preferred being invisible. At least that is what she often told herself.

With time, not being able to talk to anyone made her into someone who was an excellent listener. And she was eager to listen. Going into most of the rooms of Building C and blending in to eavesdrop was easy.

"..heard that Team Three did not come back from their mission. Apparently they sent a message that they found him and then just vanished. They couldn't even track their ships!" "And they won't try to find them?"

Kiani and Odessa were low-stationed officers who mostly did administrative work but had a hang for gossip. Amalthea became acquainted with most of the events at the station thanks to them. Usually, it was just who slept with who, complaints about what food they served in the canteen, and other inconsequential things. But sometimes Odessa had interesting news thanks to Nyseth. Amalthea did not know exactly what his job was, but she did know that they tried desperately to hide their relationship.

Knowing so many secrets of the people living at the station did not make her feel bad. It was not like she could have told anyone. And with news like that she could not help listening in a bit more closely. Sinking into a plush brown chair close to them, she acted like she was reading one of the books she always carried around, but focused on their mouths. Conversations like these were often whispered and she was lucky that the veil hid her stare. 

"No, I heard Yavin say that they will not send a recovery ship. It's too dangerous. He is probably on some other planet already, but all kinds of cultists will be searching for him. He says that having multiple ships in the same vicinity will end up with us losing more teams."

Odessa's voice was hushed and taut. When she named him, she almost stumbled over her own words, her fear transforming her dispatch into a jumbled and croaky mess. Amalthea heard Kiani gasp. There was a short silence after.

"I guess it will be time then soon," Kiani mumbled. Both she and Odessa started looking towards Amalthea. The insinuation made her sick to her stomach. She promptly lowered her gaze down to her gloved hands. Had the others seen her staring? Were they still looking themselves?

Trying to sink deeper into the chair, her shoulders slumped forward in an unnatural curve, her veil almost touching her knees. Now, standing up and going anywhere would have made it obvious that she listened in. So she agonized in the awkward silence, trying to make herself invisible again, the feeling of uneasiness leaving behind an uncomfortable prickle on her skin.

Suddenly, loud chatter outside the door interrupted them. The metal of the double doors crashed into the sandstone walls next to it and in came a whole barrage of people back from their missions and other work, ready to storm into the canteen to fill their grumbling stomachs. 

By now, Amalthea knew all of them. At Anantore Point there were less than fifty people employed and even less than that were allowed to enter the buildings on a permanent basis. The less people knew she existed, the better.

The loudest group of all were Brom, Qimir, and Kona. Qimir was today's good news. During a mission over the last couple of days, his ship suffered sudden engine failure while in hyperdrive, and while going back into realspace he got unlucky and landed in an asteroid field where he got cut off from the rest of the group. Just this morning he was able to find them again, his ship completely beaten up, but his mission completed.

Amalthea did not know what to think of him. He was unprofessional, goofy, carefree, and not the smartest. But he knew his way around ships and various planets better than more experienced explorers at Anantore Point and he had come here on personal recommendation by Senator Fasmum. Most importantly, he was her anchor point when the time came.

Qimir's job was being responsible for getting her safely to him so she could do her job. Perhaps the last person she would ever see. Still, he was the reason she had to wear the Cortosis ring. At least that is what Amalthea guessed. Until Qimir showed up a year ago she never had to wear one. But like her, he was Force-sensitive, although he never studied it. They tested him and he could barely even light a lamp. Master Xylter said that the Force was wasted on someone like him. But Qimir could still observe it. 

And that was the problem. Although Amalthea could not see it, she exuded massive amounts of the Force and that was distracting for every Force-sensitive person who came close to her. Close in this case was relative. Depending on how sensitive someone was to the Force, they could feel her from hundreds or thousands of miles away, even if they were strangers.

She wondered what it looked like, but no one had ever bothered to tell her. And Amalthea did not dare to ask. Master Xylter had said that it was because more important guests would visit after the recent happenings, but it was obvious that Qimir could not concentrate on his job with her around in this state. Amalthea did not mind the Cortosis ring. Sure, it was heavy, but having it rest on her collarbones was strangely comforting sometimes.

However, not even the ring could make Qimir stop looking at her. She felt the weight of his stare bearing down on her without mercy. And she just didn't understand why. Most of the people at Anantore Point didn't even give her a single glance, never mind a second one. Meanwhile, it was like he could not rip his eyes away from her.

Sometimes, when she sensed him, she looked back and it was like he could stare straight through the veil into her eyes, making the hairs on her neck stand up. At least, he was good at concealing it in front of others. Amalthea was not ready to be lectured on being too noticeable. 

So, like many days in the last year, she decided to eat her dinner in her room. Nobody looked at her when she got up and made her way to the door. Except Qimir. His gaze was glued to her. When she walked past him to exit, she could have sworn that their eyes met. Knuckles white and straining, she clutched the front of her robe in her hands and got out of Building C as fast as she could, stumbling over elevator entrances, stairs, and her own boots.

Could he see underneath her veil? That was impossible unless you were a Jedi and had enough control of the Force. And there were only five Jedi living at Anantore Point: Grandmaster Torinn, Master Xylter, Yavin, Ecla, and Amalthea. Shuddering, she tried to physically shake off the feeling, her dense robe rustling in the desert winds outside. The way from Building C to Building A was, as usual, completely empty. Out of all of the people living here, only four had access to Building A, Amalthea being one of them. Only Ecla was standing in front of the entrance ready for her night shift and nodded at her. "Meditation?"

She simply nodded back and made her way to her room. As her guard, Ecla was allowed to talk to her. When she first came to Anantore Point six years ago, Amalthea was really excited but soon understood. Ecla was here to do her job, not make friends. She would later quietly enter her room to put down dinner and then leave as quickly as she came. The same routine as most days. Only after closing the door behind her, she realized that her books still laid in the employee room.

Although Amalthea was bored a lot, she was grateful. The Conclave of Light had saved her life when she was a baby, housed, fed, and trained her. In exchange, she did what she was born to do and it was an honor. There might have been many rules, but they were all there to keep her safe from Rebels, Wildlings, and, in the worst case, the Sith.

Most people believed them to be extinct, but you could never be too sure. And suspicious events over the last years had proven the caution of the Jedi right. Soon it would be time for Amalthea to go. A nameless Sith had been slaughtering people. Jedi searched for him and ended up dead too. He was not a dark user with many followers, but he was amassing amounts of Force that made it clear that he was a danger. Not just to the Jedi, but to the Republic at large.

Just a month ago he had executed multiple Jedi and civilians on Khofar, then vanished without a trace. It was Amalthea's responsibility to stop him. A final fight. It was all Amalthea had been working towards. The climax of her entire life. Her purpose. Her dream? She had never asked herself that. She would rather not. The choice had been made for her, the Chosen One. Her immaculate conception would either end in immaculate victory or immaculate death. Before her thoughts could get any louder, Amalthea assumed her meditation pose, closed her eyes, and concentrated.

Amalthea did not know how much time had passed since she started meditating when she heard Ecla enter her room. She often lost herself in her concentration, not knowing when and where she was when she awakened, saturated with Force and strengthened with knowledge. Ecla did not put her dinner plate down or leave the room. When Amalthea turned towards her, Ecla did not even hold a plate.

"Master Xylter requires you in the main office in Building B."

Immediately she knew what this would be about. Actually, Amalthea had already expected to be called in soon. It was time. The feeling of finality grabbed her by the throat and squeezed. But there was no time to acclimatize. She put her gloves back on and followed Ecla outside, struggling and breathless.

Amalthea could have found the way to the main office herself, but it was night, and Anantore Point, being the only cluster of buildings in this desert and desolation, stood out. Not having others around made it safer, but the lights flickering could be seen far away. So as soon as the sun tinged the sky with hues of pink and orange, Amalthea was not allowed to walk outside alone. She moved gingerly behind Ecla, almost hiding behind the broad shoulders of the experienced Jedi warrior, becoming invisible in between her massive strides.

Often, Amalthea pictured Ecla before Anantore Point in her head. She knew nothing but her name. Nevertheless, she trusted her. And, while she could not tell anyone, she admired her. She knew that Ecla would always keep her safe. Amalthea had personally seen her finish off intruders before. Secretly, she wished Ecla would come with her on her mission. She knew she was sinning heavily with that wish. Personal affections were forbidden. Any outside help during her mission was forbidden. But no one would ever know what she thought. No one ever asked. 

Master Xylter was not the only one waiting in the main office. Amalthea had a look at the others. Grandmaster Torinn. Yavin. Qimir. So it was as she expected. Master Xylter cleared his throat and she quickly got down on her knees and looked to the ground. "Greetings Master." Amalthea could hear Qimir swallow loudly. When she got up and glanced at him, he was glaring at her. Was he angry that she didn't greet him? But there was no time to contemplate.

"You know why you are here. Your mission is in three days. Say yes if you understand." Master Xylter had never been patient. "Yes, Master."

Amalthea pondered for a moment. It was now or never. "I don't know if I am ready for the mission yet. I still have not been knigh-,", she began.

Master Xylter reacted fast. "Insolent!" His voice was so loud that even Ecla flinched. Immediately, Amalthea fell to her hands and knees, her veil brushing the dirty ground. Not a second later, Master Xylter's boot secured it there. Desperate, Amalthea pleaded for forgiveness. She should not have acted so rashly and the humiliation of her audacity stung worse than a cut.

"How dare you question the decisions of the Conclave! I must have spoiled you too much. You have not been knighted because you're simply not worthy. I do not care if you do not think you are ready, you are ready when I say you are. You will do your duty and you will do it gladly," Master Xylter exclaimed. 

"Stand up." Slowly, Amalthea got back on her feet, her posture demure, her arms hanging aimlessly at her sides. They were dirty and bruised, but it was too mortifying to openly try to brush them clean on her already ruined clothes. She decided to get this done quickly.

"I have been ill-mannered, Master. I deserve punishment."

When she was younger, Amalthea cried every time this happened. But she quickly learned it would just incense Master Xylter more. By now, she had more control over herself. Calmly, she lifted her dirty veil, her face as tranquil as an undisturbed lake at dusk. When her Master struck, not a single soul in the room dared to move.

But the corner of her sight showed something interesting. Qimir's hands, tightly curled into fists. Did he want to hit her as well? He was an explorer, after all, a job that sought people with a hang for violence.

"Thank you, Master. I will do better," Amalthea said softly. As she put her veil back down her unobstructed gaze fell back upon Qimir. His eyes seemed to bore themselves into her, his dark blown-out pupils reeling her in like the gravity of black holes. It was the first time their eyes met directly. The moment was gone as quickly as a shooting star and Qimir straightened his gaze towards the empty space in front of him, his jaw unclenching and his back loosening. 

Yavin spoke up. "You will leave Anantore Point at dusk together with Qimir. He will take you to the designated place, deploy your pod, and wait for you to finish your mission. You will kill him. You will wait for further instruction," he stated slowly and clearly.

Yavin had been the commander of the explorers ever since Amalthea could remember and he was good at his job. He was deviant and did not want to be found. Commander Yavin did so anyways. He prided himself in his work, but he had gotten older as well and Amalthea could hear in his voice that he was glad that he could soon retire. It all came back to how successful Amalthea would be. Grandmaster Torinn laid a calming hand on Amalthea's veiled hair.

"Remember, Padawan. No weapons. Your Force will provide. Do not doubt the Conclave. As a last resort, please make use of this."

His old croaky voice was barely above a whisper, and still, everyone listened with reverence. Grandmaster Torinn had trained Jedi for decades, was highly respected, and had been specifically chosen to instruct Amalthea in the Force. He dropped a small green crystal in Amalthea's open hands.

"This is an Artusian crystal. It will strengthen your Force when you need it."

Next to him, Master Xylter grew impatient. "You will finish this mission. You will be successful. You will be allowed to talk to Qimir during the mission. Flight emergency situations only. Now go back to your room. Do not expect rations for the next twenty-four hours. Dismissed," he bellowed.

Amalthea clutched the crystal in her hand and felt the sharp edges press into her skin as she wordlessly left the room, bowing slightly. Of course, she didn't expect to get fed any time soon. Denial of food was Master Xylter's favorite punishment.

The three days were over faster than Amalthea anticipated. Ecla came into her room to wake her, but Amalthea had not been able to sleep and was already meditating, her new clothes equipped and her bag next to her. It was her first time to leave the building complex ever since arriving here over twenty years ago and the airfield fascinated her. There were thousands of little lights blinking like stars on the ground, dozens of ships awaiting to soar into the gradually lightening morning sky.

Amalthea felt electrified by what expected her, her stomach churning, her body slack and glossed over with cold sweat as she dragged herself behind Ecla towards a small exploration ship. Qimir was already waiting for her, greeting her shyly. Once again, his eyes wandered all over her body, fixing themselves on her face. Today was the second time he saw her without her veil.

She would not need it anymore from today on. There was nothing that could keep her safe now. So she lost her protective layers shielding her slender, bony figure and her dark curls. Qimir watched them billow in the artificial wind of the ship's engine, seemingly unsure of what to say. After some deliberation, he asked the worst question possible.

"Are you ready?" Ridiculous. Did it matter? Had Amalthea been anyone else, she would have probably laughed. Alas, she had not laughed in years. So she responded in the only way she knew and silently climbed into the ship that would deliver her into the hands of her destiny.

[denaliwrites]

Dance on a Tightrope of Weird

Crowley x GN!Reader

Summary: Crowley was not expecting you to lose your shit when he asked what you were reading.

Soundtrack: Crazy = Genius by Panic! at the Disco

Requests: Open!

Warnings: The ravings of a madwoman. (It's me, I'm the madwoman.)

It wasn't unusual for Crowley to find you tucked away somewhere in the bookshop reading one of the countless old books Aziraphale kept around. You liked classic literature, and history, and philosophy, and who knew whatever other subjects you happened to find lying around the place.

What was unusual, however, was finding you sat in his usual armchair, reading what was decidedly not a two-hundred-year-old first-edition copy of the random novel you'd decided to bury yourself in that day.

He paused in front of you, carefully tilting the book you held up so that he could look at the cover.

"Dead Mountain?" he asked, an eyebrow cocked so high you could see it over the rim of his sunglasses.

"No, no," you said, a fire immediately lighting in your eyes. "No. Don't even get me started. This is fucking insane."

Crowley never was one to listen to your advice. "Oh?" he prompted casually, and suddenly a chair appeared behind him that he, without looking, flopped down into and sprawled across.

"No, because--"

He loved watching you read. The quiet intent, the way your face moved in tandem with whatever emotions the text wanted you to feel. He'd once walked in on you sobbing along with some tearjerking novel (as a side note, that was the first time Crowley had found himself wanting to kill a book?), and another time he'd walked in on you cheering over something... triumphant, he assumed, or at least something like that.

This was different. New.

He loved it too. The fevered look in your eyes, the frustrated set of your jaw. The way your hand, shaped like a predator's claws, gripped his knee tightly in excitement.

"This is--" you were saying, and Crowley startled back into the moment, eyes on you, attention now unwaveringly on your blazing gaze. "This is so fucking insane. I can't get over this."

"Over what, darling?" he asked, and your gaze sharpened on him, as if only just realizing he was there.

"Do you know about the Dyatlov Pass Incident?"

It sounded familiar. "Tell me all about it, darling."

"Oh, you're gonna regret that."

He wouldn't. Not ever.

"Okay, so -- Soviet Russia. 1959. Middle of winter. These nine hikers -- actually, it was originally ten. These ten experienced hikers go into the Ural Mountains to, like. Upgrade themselves? 'Cause I guess there are levels to being a hiker, and you have to go on increasingly more difficult hikes to level up. So all ten were level two or whatever, and they were going on a level three hike to upgrade to level three."

He nodded, even though all the information was secondary in his attention. He just liked listening to you.

"Okay. So they get to this little town, and while they're there, all the locals are telling them shit like, 'Don't go up that mountain,' or 'you'll die up there!' Like, horror movie type shit. The kind of stuff that makes you yell at the TV."

He was familiar with that. You did that a lot -- but so did he.

"Oh, and the mountain they were hiking on? In the local language it's called Kholat Syakhl. Do you know what that means?"

He... he did. He knew what everything in every language meant. But he let you have this, because you were clearly excited. Seeing the way you motioned with the book, he waved toward it and asked, "Dead mountain?"

"Fucking -- dead mountain!"

He chuckled, but otherwise stayed silent.

"So they're getting all these crazy warnings and the mountain is literally called Dead Mountain in the local language, but they decide to go anyway! So they go off, but before they get very far, one of them is like, 'I'm so sick, I can't go on!' and so he tells them he's gonna go back to the town, and they leave without him."

"I take it he's the only survivor?"

You nodded. "Yeah. The other nine kept going. Oh, and another crazy thing -- one of the girls on the trip was keeping a journal? That's how we know about, like... 90% of the things that happened after they left the town."

He nodded. "Makes sense."

"So, because of this girl's journal, right? We know that one of the hikers just, like, fully went off his fucking rocker about a day into the trip."

"What?" Crowley asked, leaning forward with interest.

"Yeah! He started getting really antsy, and he kept shouting stuff at seemingly nothing? He yelled, like, 'Stop following us!' and stuff like that. At nothing!"

Crowley, for effect, took his sunglasses off so that you could see his surprised look.

"Anyway. So they keep going, even though literally everything that could ever say 'turn back' is saying 'turn the fuck back!' They got off course --"

"As you do."

"As you fucking do. They got off course and decided to hunker down for the night and retrace their steps in the morning. They set up camp, went to bed, and then they all fucking died."

"Oh, I imagine there's more to it than that," Crowley said.

The grin on your face was bordering on manic. "Oh, of course. First of all, according to the girl's journal, two of the hikers went batshit, started laughing hysterically for no reason, and then took off into the night, never to be seen again -- well, not alive, anyway."

"Ominous," Crowley observed thoughtfully.

"Right? And the other weird thing about that -- well, pre them all dying. There was, according to the girl, a big, glowing orange ball of light in the sky that night. They have a picture of it," you said, turning the book so that he could see. "Of course, it's in black and white, but still. And -- the craziest part of that, is that there were hikers on the other side of the mountain on the same night who confirmed the big glowing orange ball of light!"

Crowley's mouth dropped open.

"I KNOW! And then -- their deaths are even more bizarre! First of all, they cut their way out of their tent? Like, they didn't just -- open it and leave. They cut. Their way out. And then they ran down the side of the mountain into the trees. No one's really sure how anything else happened, but what we know for sure is that three of them were found a little up the mountain, like they'd been trying to make their way back up."

"Mhm."

"And two were found naked -- right at the edge of the trees, under one of the bigger ones. Some branches in the tree were broken in a way that seems to indicate that they were trying to climb up and get a view of the camp. There were also remains of a fire beside the bodies. We don't know for sure why they were naked, but the theory is paradoxical stripping."

"And what's that?" Crowley asked, even though he knew.

"It's when you're so cold that you start to feel hot, and so you take off all your clothes."

Demonic work, he was sure.

"So that's five of them. They were found shortly after they died. The other four weren't found until a few months later, after the spring thawed a lot of the snow."

"Why weren't they found right away?"

"Because they were found in a ravine about a mile past the treeline! Three of them were found in a stream in this ravine. One of them had a piece of her skull missing? And all of them had major trauma to their chests -- like, high-speed impact by a delivery truck kind of major impact. To this day, no one's sure what the fuck caused that kind of damage."

Crowley clicked his tongue in thought.

"And the last one -- she was found sitting up against a big boulder? The official report describes her like that. Sitting up against a boulder. She had, like, chunks of her face missing? And her tongue was missing. Like, the whole thing."

"You specified the official report," Crowley observed. "Is that important?"

"Oh! Yes! Because the pictures of the area? They show her as laying face down in the stream with the others!"

"That's suspicious."

"Right? On top of all that, their bodies had traces of radiation! Not their clothes, though, or their belongings. Just the bodies."

Crowley hummed.

"Oh! And their tent -- when authorities found the tent, it looked like it had been put up by amateurs. Like, level zero hikers. But these were level two hikers doing their level three hike. There's no reason their tent would've been put up like that. Even if they were in a rush or scared or whatever, it would've been put up at least sort of better."

He nodded in understanding.

"It's just -- it's all so crazy!"

"I can tell," he mused aloud, lips quirking into a smirk at your perplexed and frustrated expression.

"The thing with the girl's face is really weird," you said after a moment of thought. "The theory is scavengers, but reports of the incident specify there were no animals in the area. Like, I feel like if there were scavengers, you'd write down 'no predators,' or even 'no wolves or bears.' But no, they wrote, very specifically, 'no animals.' Like, I dunno, it just feels like that's a weird distinction to make. But then, if there weren't any animals, how did her face end up with bits missing?"

"I couldn't tell you."

"And why lie about her, too? Why move her and put her in the stream when the report literally says she was up against the boulder?"

He shrugged, before shifting forward to grip your knee.

"I just -- it's all so crazy, and weird, and -- and --"

"Oh," Crowley interjected, looking thoughtful. "Now I know why that all sounds familiar."

"Huh?"

"Yeah, that was demonic work," he continued, blissfully unaware of your increasingly maddening expression. "I'm pretty sure that was my side."

"So you -- you know what happened?"

He finally caught your expression, the set of your jaw and slight twitch in your eye. "Oh -- yeah. Of course," he said, sounding rather unsure, actually. If anything, that just seemed to aggravate you more. "Space yetis."

"... SPACE YETIS!?"

[thestoriesfold]

Tonight’s Golden Hour: Introduction

Summary: You find a new beginning. A new country, a new place to live. But this isn’t living, not yet. Something was off.

Pairings: Marc Spector x gn!reader, Steven Grant x gn!reader, Jake Lockely x gn!reader, Y/N is used sparingly.

Word Count: 2.1k

Content: angst (barely), paranormal stuff happens.

Warnings: probably cursing and language, death in family!, references to cults, eventual references to witchcraft.

Notes: This is NOT proof read. Horrible grammar- probably. Honestly, I just had to get this part out of the way. Be gentle with me, I’ll actually cry. This series will come with its own soundtrack, you’re welcome.

Masterlist 🌙 Pt. 1

The day was dreary, probably normal for regular Londoners. But that wasn’t normal for you. No, you never planned on being here. Your home was warm when this was cold. You could hear nothing but the city, where as home would offer the potential of hearing the waves of the sea, maybe music. The building in front of you mocked you with its old sense of luxury. You never had anything more than a small house, one that was fit for a lonely person as yourself. You could never understand how your late Nana could ever come to have this. Your family seemed to struggle to stay afloat trying to leave what felt like a cult. It was honestly, it was the only reason you’d ultimately agreed to be here. Those bastards always found a way back into your lives, taking another family member with every prolonged visit. It hurt to know that you were the only one left not falling for the tyrannical brainwashing that had persuaded your loved ones.

That wasn’t completely true, your grandmother died before they could get her back into their grimy hands. That made you, the person standing in the driveway, smile slightly. Maybe she got out after all, escaped. Maybe I have too, you thought. It was one thing to move across the country, it was another to end up halfway across the continent. Yet, here you were, all of your belongings sorted between a suit case, back pack, tote, and carry on bag. Safe to say, moving was easy for you.

You only then felt the chill of the London breeze against your skin. Perhaps, you got ahead of yourself. But that wouldn’t matter any longer, not as you shoved your hands in the fabric of your jacket sleeves and forced onward. The closer you got, the deeper the pit in your stomach grew. The house looked normal, but you ultimately felt off. Your head turned to look behind you, seeing nothing but cars passing by the thrush covered fence, and the steel gate that separated you from the rest of London. The garden that surrounded the house was small, probably perfect for someone like your grandma. You blinked at the rose bush that had started to wrap around one of the porch’s posts.

All you could hear at this point was the sound of cars passing by behind you. You couldn’t pinpoint the feelings churning inside your stomach as you slowly unlocked the front door. The hinges made their old age known as the door swung open. It revealed the main entrance. The small corridor led into the front parlor of the house on one side, the other leading to a lowered study. Your eyes scanned the stairway that led up to the other floor of the house. Your mouth fell agape as you stepped fully into the house. The house was still furnished in your grandmother’s particular style.

“‘M glad she stayed so up to trends” you had enough mind to say as you put your jacket on the coat rack. The house looked like one in a movie. Part of you felt lucky despite the eerie feeling radiating off the walls. You gently shut the door behind you, giving yourself a tour of the front parlor. Antiques lined the house from top to bottom, every piece seemed like it could’ve been a hundred years old. You’d never truly know.

You crossed the corridor, stepping down into the large room of the study your grandmother had left you. Books older than time itself lined the shelves along the walls. You remembered how you’d sit and read together for hours. You remembered your grandmother swearing on putting lavender and a splash of milk in her cup of tea, opting to do it for her oldest grandchild as well.

The sigh that flooded the room was one of emotions that you had held onto for months now. It took so long to get things sorted out, you hardly had enough time to mourn. In fact, your grandma was all you really had anymore after the rest of your family joined that stupid group. Tears gathered in your eyes as you ran your knuckles over an all familiar title. One she’d read you every night as a child. Before everything went wrong.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It had taken an hour for you to memorize where everything you would come to regularly use within such a large house was. You sunk into the chair that accompanied a large mahogany desk that rested in front of an even larger mantled fireplace. A sigh passed your lips once more, something you’d come to do a lot as the years blurred on. Your hands gently lifted the computer from your bag, bringing it to the desk and began your search. “Y/N has to get themselves a job” you mumbled. You just needed something for food and transportation. The will made sure that this house would cost absolutely nothing for her grandchild, meaning you didn’t have to do anything extravagant. To your luck an opening at a nearby library was available, several actually. “Guessing the job of a librarian is a dying breed, eh?” You asked yourself as you clicked on the application.

Filling out the information came easy, you finished up quickly. Your back hit the chair, making it lean with you. Your eyes closed slowly. Tomorrow was going to be something else, something new. You just hoped that nothing would screw it up, especially yourself.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You forced yourself from bed days later, doing your best to look presentable for the job interview. Your eyes took in the variation of shades that made up the look. You looked normal, maybe the circles under your eyes was what threw you off. A small huff left your lips as you finished getting ready, hoping you’d remember to eat afterwards. Important things, they made you undeniably nervous. Too nervous to eat, too nervous to relax until the damage was done. That’s what you reminded yourself as you stepped onto the coach, paying the fee due to not having a pass just yet. The library wasn’t that far; you knew that, but you didn’t want to risk walking along the streets alone yet. You weren’t from London. The white knuckle grip you had on the bus rail was a reminder of why you missed home. You could walk everywhere.

Your eyes stayed focused on the stops above the headline, eager to get off the damn thing. The man next to you had done a piss poor job of not staring. You could feel the Greek curse leave your lips as you stepped down onto the sidewalk, finding your footing as you took in the large building. Nerves flowed through your body till this point, now you were just dead excited. Working with books, in a huge library. You could only imagine what you could get your hands on.

Hasty with your movements, you quickly stepped through the main doors. Your hands found their way around each other as you approached the counter, an awkward smile gracing your lips as you approached a much older woman. She was older than even your late grandmother. The wrinkled face looked up at you, eyes lighting up to see someone actually show up for an interview. You greeted each other, the old lady taking a while to come around the counter. It didn’t matter, you would wait. Something about the old woman smiling at you like that, would give you the patience of three saints.

“Hello there, darling! It’s so nice knowing the young folk still appreciate places like this” she gestured to the vast room that contained centuries of literature. “I suppose, we should get to business shall we? Here dear, follow me.”

You merely nodded, opting to follow the woman “Thank you so much for accepting my application, this place is beautiful” you admitted. Astonished, your eyes scanned over the two floors of paper. You almost missed Janet calling a man over, his dark curls swirling in different directions as he approached the two of you.

“Ah, Steven! Hello. This is the new hire I was telling you about” you turn to the man in front of you, both hesitating to speak too long for Janet. She ended the silence, looking between the two of you. “Anyway, Steven, would you mind covering the counter while I take ‘em to the office for our little interview?”

He took a second to break away from whatever trance had overtaken him. He could hear Marc’s voice in his head, but he ignored it. He’d gotten better at that lately, offering a lopsided grin as he spoke “It was great to meet you, Y/N. I hope it goes well” he offered a small nod of the head before turning around to the counter.

His face fell as Marc’s voice started in his head, telling him that he made it weird. You didn’t take notice of how his shoulders deflated slightly as Janet directed you to the back office. ‘Great job, Steven. Really’ Marc’s voice dripped with sarcasm as Steven rounded the counter, slowly sitting in the chair.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Both of you walked out with grins, Janet hobbling slightly ahead of you as she approached the front desk. Your eyes met the dark brown of Steven’s, causing you to give him a thumbs up. An almost childlike excitement was rolling off of you, glad that this had gone your way. He mimicked your hands “Congrats! Welcome to our dainty little crew” he chuckled as Janet shook her head.

“Speak for yourself, Grant. Nothing on this body is dainty just yet, young man” her tone had a sense of fire to it, causing you to let out a small laugh “I expect to see you both tomorrow bright and early” she spoke to the you both pointedly. With that, you and Steven exchanged a glance. He was taking in your features the best he could, you were observing him. Almost mentally preparing for whatever tomorrow’s little show of the ropes would be like. You didn’t like not knowing.

You said your goodbyes shortly after Janet took over the counter once more. As your shoes hit the pavement, a grin graced your lips. You’d gotten a job, a nice one at that. Your grin grew as you saw a coffee shop just down the street, still early enough in the day not to be completely flooded. That day was a good day, despite the creaks in the floorboards that night keeping you awake. Despite the shadows that bent and twisted, despite feeling like a presence was watching as you struggled to finally fall asleep.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was like something held you down, eyes wide open as the moonlight flooded into the room. Your eyes looked around, watching as the shadows of the tree outside seemed to curl inwards. Your breath came out as quietly as you could allow it, feeling your fingers twitch. The house creaked as you lay there. You were convinced your mind was playing tricks on you. This was some twisted dream of yours. You had the imagination.

Your body was stuck, pressed to the bed with an unseen weight. At least you thought so, until a book that fell from your dresser jerked your body up from the mattress. A twinge of anxiety burrowed itself in your chest, this house was more than old enough to be haunted or something. But, it couldn’t be that. Right?

Your bare feet on the cold floor made you more aware, more awake as you bent to pick up the book. Your hands slowly turned the book over, allowing you to see the old, and rather dusty cover. You felt your brows furrow as the title was in Greek, mouth falling open as you spoke the title out loud, Greek being your mother-tongue “Εκάτη Σκοτεινή Μητέρα?”

As you finished the last syllable, your door peaked open. The hinges whined loudly, your body jumping as you felt your heart nearly explode. Your breath was labored, you knew better than to move, than to make a sound. But you had to, this was your house now. Your bare feet slowly moved along the cold wood, every other step causing the floorboards to creak beneath your weight. You slowly descended the stairs, opting for the fire poker as a weapon in the case of an intruder. Wide eyes checked every possible crevice of space in front of you, heart beating loudly in your ears.

You found yourself in the study, already having cleared the house of any odd doings. Your hand slowly loosened on the fire poker, not seeing any signs of anyone ever being in the house. With a sigh, you put the poker down. Why was this happening? Looking at the ashes that littered the fire wood, you rubbed what little sleep you had gotten from your eyes. It was early, three in the morning was what the clock said. There was no way you were sleeping. You shook your head, opting to tidy up the study a little. You adjusted small things here and there, coming to the final corner. Squinting at the small statuette that had fallen into the floor. You picked up the two pieces it had broken into, taking in the sight of the bottom’s three womanly figures. In your other hand, you observed three different heads, the one in the middle sporting some sort of moon emblem. Letting out one final huff, you looked at the pieces in your hands “Merida..”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Translation: Hecate, Mother Darkness.

Also- Merida in an assortment of languages means shit. :)

Thanks for reading, totally let me know what you think!

[thencitytales]

Non-stop Teasing - CYJ

🌷Pairing: Choi Yeonjun of TXT x fem!reader (3rd person used)

🌷 kinda enemies to lovers

🌷wc: 4.1k

🌷 Fluff? sort of angsty tho

🌷 warning: drinking, cussing, frat party, Yeonjun being kind of down bad

🌷There are a few other idols mentioned, some of them in a relationship with each other, I do not think these people are together nor do I ship them, I just felt like the story could have used these dort of relationships (ChaewonxWooyoung, KarinaxJeno)

🌷 Hey!! I am back because i felt like it. This fic is a fleeting idea i had a long time ago and was finally able to finish. In the beginning it was not meant for Yeonjun but it had mostly OC'S so if you see random names I'm sorry, I have yet to proofread it. Feel free to give me notes and feedback, as I appreciate it a lot!! 'Til next time <3

(not my GIF)

Yeonjun. Stupid, fucking Yeonjun.

Idiot, average-looking yet so stupidly attractive Yeonjun.

“If you really hate him you should stop staring at him, you know?” a blonde girl talked to her best friend, who shushed her in response.

“Shut up Chaewon, I’m not staring” Y/N retorted against her best friend. 

Except she was, and she knew it.

Another person in the library was also very aware of Y/N and what she was doing, because he could feel her eyes pierce through his head. 

And he loved it.

“Ask anybody here, they’ll say you’re staring,” Chaewon said in an amused tone, making Y/N’s eye twitch in frustration.

“Well, then it’s hate-staring, glaring if you will,” Y/N looked away from the boy and glared at her best friend, turning her head ever so slowly, as to recreate the scene in a horror movie.

“Just like I’m glaring at you right now.” Chaewon let out a laugh at her friend’s antics and shrugged it off.

“Sure thing, love. Keep telling yourself that.”Chaewon said. Y/N could only scoff before going back to look at her books.

Look was indeed the best word to describe what she was doing, the words on the page being read for the tenth time in as many minutes without understanding nor absorbing any of it. Biology sucked, and so did Y/N’s brain at that moment. So much so that after a couple of seconds she got distracted again.

“What is it with the stupid beanie anyway? Like what’s the deal with that? DO YOU THINK HE HAS A BALD SPOT?” Y/N whisper-screamed, making Chaewon almost spit out the water she was trying to drink after finally reaching the end of her chapter.

Suddenly the girls heard a louder voice coming from behind them.

“It’s actually for style-related purposes, no bald spot, though if you’re still in doubt you could always ask him. Also, Y/N, you were one hundred percent staring at Yeonjun, just FYI.” Wooyoung said whilst chuckling at the little jump the girls made upon hearing him. Y/N turned around, red in the face, a mixture of embarrassment for being caught and pure wrath, caused by Wooyoung’s presence.

“How long have you been here?” She said bitterly. The boy could sense she wanted to add something, the words dying in her throat a bit too fast. He assumed a “dickhead”, or “asshole” was missing, but he let it go, not teasing her any further. 

“The whole time, love,” he said mocking what Chaewon had said to her friend just a few minutes prior. Then turned away and returned to his spot at the same table with Yeonjun, Soobin and Changbin.

Y/N looked warily at her surroundings to make sure no one else was around to eavesdrop on them.

“How in actual hell are you able to like that guy?” Her shocked expression clearly visible on her features.

Chaewon shrugged.

“He just likes to tease you, he’s actually very nice” She answered, her cheeks turning slightly pink before continuing. 

“I mean it’s not like they’re the fuckboys group.” When Chaewon said that, Y/N was still looking at them and immediately turned around. 

“No, they’re worse, at least the fuckboys are self-aware of how awful they are” she sighed.

“Oh my God you’re so dramatic,” Chaewon said rolling her eyes before going back to typing at her computer. 

Y/N shut up and went back to try and drill a hole through Yeonjun’s head with her gaze, sadly, without any success.

As if on cue, the boy turned around, looked at her, smirked, and turned back to speak with Changbin, making her avert her gaze and awkwardly look around to find God knows what.

She couldn’t take it anymore, her heart pounding in her chest was beginning to feel like it was too much, she could literally hear it and the sensation made her shudder. She got up and headed to the bathroom searching for some quick fix to the sudden heat of her body.

As soon as she got there Y/N quickly splashed her face with some cold water to try and stop it from getting all red, failing miserably. She looked defeatedly at her reflection.

“This is a PSA for that tiny voice living at the back of my head, I am kindly asking you to shut up” She lightly hit her head with her hand in the process so that the point would go across. 

“You understand me??” The girl sighed and took a step back from the sink to exit the bathroom, but as soon as she turned around a familiar face was standing leaning on the door frame.

“Try hitting it harder next time, that should work better.” He chuckled lightly before taking a step towards her.

“This is the girls’ bathroom, Yeonjun” Y/N backed up and glared at him for what was probably the thousandth time that day.

“Sorry, I was headed to the guys’ bathroom but something here caught my attention” he smirked once again. 

Y/N was on the verge of breaking. That smirk. He had to know the effect it had on her. Or was it just a stupid habit of his? 

It didn’t really matter. Either way, she wanted to kiss him so badly right now. And subsequently, run away, completely change identities, go to Peru, and start a potato plantation or something, to hopefully never be found again. She would never EVER admit to wanting to kiss that boy.

Frustrated even more than before, she ran back to the table where Chaewon was waiting for her, shoving Yeonjun in the process, and making him audibly laugh, clearly enjoying how easily he could fluster her.

“I gotta go, or I’m going to be late for the party,” Chaewon said the moment she saw her best friend enter her view.

“Again” Y/N added to Chaewon’s statement, knowing how long the blonde usually takes to get ready. The other girl got up and quickly added:

“Remember, I’ll be at your dorm around 10 pm, we’ll see what to do from there. Remind Ryujin too when you get home, please.” Chaewon said while collecting all of her stuff and messily throwing it in her bag.

“Sure thing, I’ll finish this chapter and go home too in a half-hour or so. Don’t worry about Ryujin, knowing her, she’ll be all dressed up already. You know who you should be worried about, though.” Y/N answered, looking up from her books.

“I already texted Karina, I told her I’d be at hers around 9:30 so she’ll hopefully be ready when we actually get there.” The girl chuckled at her best friend’s trickery and waved her goodbye, mumbling a “perfect” in the meanwhile.

On her way out Chaewon was stopped in her tracks by a slightly taller figure.

“Hey there,” he sweetly addressed the girl.

“Hi Wooyoung, I’d love to stop and chat with you but I really need to go.”

“See you at the party, then” Chaewon looked at him surprised.

“You should really stop eavesdropping other people’s conversations. Besides, you don’t even know which party we were talking about, there’s like 5 every Friday night without counting the ones outside of campus” 

He gave her a playful smile and said “Don’t worry, I’ll figure it out.” The girl laughed and answered “Good luck, darling” before going her way.

After that Wooyoung quickly got back to the guys’ table where all of his friends were sitting, trying to finish some sort of group project.

“Okay, talking about important things, what do you guys know about parties tonight?” Wooyoung said, sitting down.

“You mean here in the campus? or in general? Also like, frat houses or bars?” Soobin started throwing questions at him to try and narrow down the search.

“I don't know, man, Chaewon was talking to the Menace and they said they were going to a party tonight.” Wooyoung just answered him calmly.

As soon as he heard the words “Menace” and “party” together in a sentence Yeonjun’s interest was piqued. He looked at Wooyoung, completely ignoring the semi-blank document opened in front of him.

“Well I don’t think they’d go off campus, the Menace is too lazy for that, she’d want to be as close to the dorm as possible.” Soobin started the brainstorming session.

“That still leaves like at least five or six parties” Changbin pointed out, then turned to Wooyoung and asked:

“Is it just the two of them?” to which Wooyoung quickly added Ryujin and Karina to the mix.

As soon as Karina’s name came up Changbin and Soobin looked at each other and said: “Keystone Lodge.”

“Is there something I don’t know?” Wooyoung asked given how the boys answered the place of the party seemed obvious but he had no idea.

“Karina’s boyfriend, Jeno. He’s in the frat.” Soobin pointed out.

“Okay but aren’t parties at KL like, invitation-only or something like that?” Changbin quickly raised the question.

Yeonjun, who had just started fantasizing about what could’ve happened at the party and had no intentions of having his dreams ruined just like that, said: “don’t worry guys, be prepared, I’ll text you later.” and quickly got up and gathered his things before exiting the library.

“Does he have to do it every time?” Soobin asked.

“He got it from Mark, says it gives him the surprise effect later on and the mysterious effect right away.” Changbin answered rolling his eyes, to which the other two guys only answered almost in awe with an “Ooh.” probably thinking it was the best idea a man could have.

“Okay, how did you get us in Yeonjun?” Wooyoung asked, almost alarmed at how quickly and seemingly easily their friend acquired the invitations.

“I know Haechan, and he owed me. He still does.” the older boy simply stated, raising Wooyoung's alarm instead of calming him down.

“Now let’s get this party started” Yeonjun exclaimed walking up the stairs to Keystone’s Lodge with a smirk on his face.

“You’re going to try and make her life hell, aren’t you?” Changbin said clearly amused at how his friend was planning on being even more annoying to Y/N than he usually was.

“Just wait and see Changbin, just wait and see.” the smirk on Yeonjun’s face growing with every step to the door he knocked on, where they found a guy standing alone, waiting for proof of invitations.

Inside the Frat house, the music was blasting. The air felt damp and everything smelled like cheap alcohol, adding to the mix the group of smoking boys at the far end of the room anyone could imagine that the atmosphere was not very romantic. Which is exactly what they expected.

Changbin went straight for the bar, getting everybody something to drink as the other guys scanned the room for their targets. 

Wooyoung quickly saw Chaewon sitting on the couch with her friends. They were talking to a few frat guys but they seemed nonthreatening enough to his ego. The Menace was sitting dangerously close to one of them, almost in his lap. Wooyoung could not recognize the guy though, no matter how much he squinted.

He nudged his friends and with a nod pointed the scene out, hoping they would get curious and approach them, so he could flirt with Chaewon once again. 

As soon as he realized what was going on, Soobin turned to look at Yeonjun’s reaction, gesturing to Changbin to hurry over, so he could witness it too because despite what those two liked to admit, they had this tension between them that was almost romantic. They were definitely, on some level, attracted to each other but they would never admit it. That’s why Changbin Soobin and Wooyoung were now staring at Yeonjun, hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever they had theorized.

Yeonjun’s brows furrowed. The night just started and everything had to be so simple already, not even a bit of a challenge. He sighed, took a drink from Changbin’s hands, and turned to Wooyoung. 

“Let’s go say hi to your princess, shall we?” Yeonjun told his friend, who was very happy about the poor lighting, meaning the other boys were not made aware of his rosy cheeks prompted by Yeonjun's comment.

As they approached, Chaewon saw them and a big smile tugged on her lips. She raised a hand to say hi and the boys did the same.

“Well Well Well, I’m surprised to see little Sherlock actually did find us.” She chuckled looking at Wooyoung.

“I told you I could do it. I’m very resourceful” he winked and the girl lightly laughed. 

Everybody then fell back into conversation, except Y/N and her mystery guy, who were so distracted by each other that they didn’t even say hi to the newcomers. 

Yeonjun cleared his voice. 

“I know you don’t like us Y/N but not saying hi is simply rude, even for you.” He smirked, knowing very well what it did to her.

The girl turned around, her surroundings didn’t make it easy to hear but she was sure she heard a voice talking to her. 

From her sitting position she looked at the new figures that had joined the conversation. And then she saw his face. She simply rolled her eyes.

“Who even invited you here? Seriously, please tell me so I can avoid the lunatic all night long, people just become crazier and crazier by the day”

“Actually,” Yeonjun chuckled.

The guy whom Y/N was talking to gently removed his hands from her hips, feeling a bit embarrassed. 

“I think that might have been me,” He said. 

Y/N looked at Haechan with a void expression.

“You’re his friend?” She asked, not believing it for a moment.

Haechan was slightly taken aback by the question, thinking the answer to be obvious, so he simply answered:

“Yeah?” at which Y/N glared at both the boys.

“That’s a shame, I really liked you.” And with that, she got up and went to the bar to pour herself yet another drink. The alcohol was probably what made her act so suddenly with that silly explanation but even sober her had no intention of being affiliated in any way with Yeonjun.

Seeing how Y/N was behaving, the boy thought that his mission was going to be such a delight with how simple she was making it.

Yeonjun followed her, leaving behind their friends absorbed in whatever conversation, and a very confused Haechan sitting on the couch.

As Y/N approached the bar, she bumped into a few people obstructing passages left and right and leaving her even more annoyed than she already was.

She took one of the red cups and poured herself some beer. 

Not the ideal drink but it was the first thing her hands were able to grasp. 

As she was about to take a sip, a hand snatched her drink.

“Thanks, I was very thirsty,” Yeonjun told her, earning a glare once again that day.

“How do you manage to be so annoying Yeonjun?” Y/N said while pouring another cup, this time she grabbed some gin, sensing she would need something stronger than a beer.

“I give it my best, just for you” he grinned.

Y/N couldn’t help but groan as she looked for the soda to mix her drink.

“What did I ever do to you? Have I offended you in any way? Are you holding a grudge from your past life?? Why do you like to annoy me so much??” She sighed in defeat.

“Woah,” Yeonjun said taken aback by the sudden seriousness of the question.

“Well, for starters I could ask you the same thing…” He answered calmly.

As she started to protest he shushed her.

“Buut, I am not going to lie, I do find you very cute when you’re frustrated” He chuckled.

“Are you hitting on me?” She asked, mouth agape.

“Do you want me to be hitting on you?” There it was again. The stupidest grin on the face of the earth. If there was a way to wipe it off instantly, Y/N would’ve gladly taken that chance. Thinking about it, there was a way, and to be honest she had reluctantly considered that way many times before, but always ended up avoiding it.

A kiss was not the solution, everything it could’ve done was only create more problems.

She was snapped back to reality by Yeonjun waving his hands in front of her eyes. She had been staring at the grin for god knows how long. A faint red was starting to tint her cheeks.

“You want to kiss me so badly,” Yeonjun told her, the grin never leaving his face.

She tried to play it as cool as possible, hoping the poor lighting of the room helped her conceive the blushing situation.

“Projecting much?” She smiled turning on her heels, determined to get out of the house for some fresh air.

As she walked away Yeonjun screamed over the music.

“I never said I wouldn’t like it” Y/N briefly stopped in her tracks, surprised by the sudden confession. Thinking it was just another way of getting under her skin she slowly reached the door and opened it, stepping out onto the backyard.

“You just love messing with her, don’t you?” Chaewon said as she approached Yeonjun, Wooyoung by her side, holding her waist.

“I have a tendency not to lie, actually. Everything I said is true. She’s just… compelling” he tried to find the best word to describe her.

“Compelling? You mean messing with her like that is compelling?” Chaewon said, a bit offended that Yeonjun enjoyed toying with her friend’s emotions like that.

“Tell me Chaewon, when have I ever done anything truly bad to her? All I do is tease, in her opinion, when in reality I was always simply…” Yeonjun said, meanwhile Chaewon tried to start a list of all the times he’s gotten you frustrated and quickly realized most times it was just his very annoying, twisted way of ... 

“Flirting,” Chaewon said, shocked. She looked at him straight in the eyes, her expression painted with shock.

“Oh my God, you just flirt with her” Chaewon continued. She suddenly realized that every time Yeonjun ever talked to Y/N he was flirting, and that enraged her friend for some reason. He never actually DID anything bad to her. He never insulted her, let alone take action to actively ruin her day. The only times he did something of the sort she was always with a guy, like 10 minutes ago with Haechan. Yeonjun was always just… flirting with Y/N.

“I am very confused.” Wooyoung said looking at his two friends.

“You never admitted it to us and it takes you like three seconds to tell it to her best friend? I kinda hate you and I am not sure I would like to be friends with you anymore.” Wooyoung continued while watching Yeonjun's every move and acting offended.

“It’s not like you guys ever really asked, I thought it was obvious if I have to be honest. She’s pretty, she’s smart, she can be a pain in the ass but she’s one of the nicest and kindest people I ever met. Not with me, which I can not really comprehend, but if teasing her incessantly is the only way I can get her to interact with me I don’t think I will ever stop.” Yeonjun said earnestly to his friend. A small smile appeared on his features, almost sheepishly.

A voice behind him startled him right after.

“What did he just say??” it was Changbin, who basically screamed in his ear after he heard just half of the confession.

“I think he likes the Menace!!” Soobin screamed at Changbin (and in Yeonjun’s other ear) in hopes of being understood over the loud music.

Meanwhile, Y/N was outside, freezing because she forgot to bring a jacket. 

Why did he have to always be so annoying, why did he always have something to say that would just make her heart beat at a worrying speed? Why did she have to like him so fucking much?

As her mind birthed the last few words she stopped pacing back and forth on the grass.

Of course, she liked him. It seemed as if every stupid decision she could make she would take and this was not even a conscious one. 

It would explain why her fight or flight response would kick in every time he would even just look in her direction, and her choice was fight. 

Thinking about kissing him all those times was not just a stupid silly thought. 

Y/N was hopeless.

"So?" The question was raised suddenly by a voice she recognised immediately.

He was standing right there, in front of her, handing her her jacket.

She happily took it, silently thanking him with a smile before muttering.

"So what?" her eyes looking at him defeated. She liked him and he was just playing. He was just teasing, and look where all that teasing led her. A terrible position she never wanted to be in.

"Am I getting that kiss you so badly want to give me?" Here he goes again. Non-stop teasing.

This time Y/N did not find it in her to fight, not him nor the feelings she finally realized she had.

"You should be more careful with your words Yeonjun, one might think you actually want it, crave it even" she said calmly before chuckling lightly. She was now sitting down on the bench and her gaze was everywhere but the boy's figure.

"As I said when you were storming off, I do think I'd enjoy it" he slowly sat down beside her, surprised by her tone. This felt more like an actual conversation now. It didn't seem like she had any intention of fleeing this time around. Just them two, talking like normal people. It was new and he liked it. He liked it more than words could explain.

"Stop teasing me please, I honestly don't think I can take it anymore. I won't be bothering you again if you promise me you will leave me alone without uttering any other word that you don't mean" If someone were to pass by and listen very closely, the sound of Yeonjun's heart could be heard as it was cracking and falling apart like glass under extreme heat.

She didn't want to see him anymore, but what was worse is that she didn't think his words were honest. She thought he didn't mean it, ever.

He meant it from the first smile he flashed her, from the first hello he said. The first time he saw her he was struck by lightning and did not feel like himself anymore. All he could do was think about her, all he wanted to do was to speak with her. He did not care if it meant he had to endure rolling eyes and frustrated groans, at the very least he was interacting with you.

"So?" this time she asked the question. Her eyes showed how hurt she was and he could barely look at them.

As he turned to face her, Y/N noticed tears welling up in his eyes. She didn't understand.

"You really think I don't mean it? Y/N you consume my thoughts in the best and worst way ever. I think about you all the time. All I ever want to do is speak with you and I don't care if it means you'll hate me, I won't stop doing it because I am selfish like that. I don't want to feel miserable, and the only way I have to do that is if I speak to you. You can tell me you despise me a thousand times but I won't care as long as you're in front of me, addressing me, acknowledging my presence." As Yeonjun spoke Y/N could not believe his words. 

If it was just minutes ago she would've joked about how "you're so obsessed with me, jeez" but at that moment the expression on Yeonjun's face was making her want to cry. It seemed like he meant it.

He did mean it.

"You like me?" she asked, furrowing her brows in confusion.

"I think like is a bit of an understatement at this point..." he chuckled looking into the distance, the palms of his hands rubbing against each other awkwardly.

Y/N moved closer to him. He did not register how close she got until she turned his head towards her with her hand.

They stared at each other, they are not sure for how long. It could have been mere seconds or hours on end. Then she moved closer and finally kissed him. 

She tilted her head as he deepened the kiss. 

Everything felt good. They were finally happy.

[elvisbdoll]

The Mystery in Memphis

Chapter 3: A Warning in the Shadows

Chapter 2: The Stranger

The air in the music shop had grown colder, heavy with the kind of silence that warned trouble was near. Elvis, ever the performer, cracked his knuckles and shot Lucian a grin as the shadowy figures approached.

“Well now,” he drawled, standing tall with his guitar case in one hand. “If y’all wanted an autograph, all you had to do was ask.”

The lead figure stepped closer, their face obscured by the brim of a black hat. Their voice was low and gravelly, tinged with menace. “You’ve got something that doesn’t belong to you.”

Elvis raised an eyebrow, glancing at Lucian. “You wanna handle this, or should I?”

Lucian’s hand slipped into their pocket, fingers brushing the newly acquired key. They spoke with calm authority. “We’re not giving it to you. Step aside.”

The shadowy figure chuckled darkly. “Oh, you’ll give it to us. One way or another.”

Before Elvis could crack another joke, the group lunged toward them.

“Alright, showtime!” Elvis yelled, swinging his guitar case like a club.

The case connected with a satisfying thud against one of the attackers, sending them sprawling. “That’s what you get for messin’ with the King!”

Lucian was a blur of precision, using the edge of a music stand as an improvised weapon. Their movements were calculated, efficient, like they’d fought a hundred battles before. Elvis couldn’t help but notice how graceful they were, even in the chaos.

“You’re not bad at this,” Elvis called out, dodging a wild swing from another attacker. “What, they teach karate in your timeline too?”

Lucian smirked, elbowing an assailant in the ribs. “You’d be surprised.”

Elvis blocked a punch, his grin unwavering. “Well, I gotta say, I’m startin’ to feel like a real action hero. Think I’ll get my name on a movie poster after this?”

“Focus, Elvis!” Lucian shouted, shoving another attacker aside.

The remaining figures retreated, their leader stepping forward once more. This time, the brim of the hat tilted back, revealing hollow, glowing eyes that seemed to pierce through the shadows.

“You don’t know what you’re dealing with,” the leader growled. “That key will bring nothing but destruction.”

Elvis tightened his grip on the guitar case, his playful demeanor fading. “Yeah? Well, it sounds like you’re the ones bringin’ the destruction, pal.”

Lucian stepped forward, their voice steady. “Who sent you? What do you want?”

The leader’s eyes flicked to Lucian, their expression unreadable. “We were sent to protect the balance. If you unlock that door, the consequences will ripple across timelines. Return the key, and we’ll let you walk away.”

Lucian hesitated, their gaze locked with the leader’s. For a moment, Elvis thought they might actually consider it.

But then Lucian’s expression hardened. “We’re not giving up. If the key is part of the solution, we’ll see it through.”

The leader let out a low chuckle. “So be it. But consider this your only warning. There are forces far greater than you at play here.”

With that, the shadows seemed to dissolve into the air, leaving Elvis and Lucian alone in the shop.

“Well, that was somethin’,” Elvis said, brushing dust off his jacket. “I’d ask if this kinda thing happens to you a lot, but I’m not sure I wanna know.”

Lucian’s shoulders relaxed slightly, though their expression remained serious. “We need to leave. There’s no telling who else might come after us.”

Elvis nodded, grabbing the key from Lucian and holding it up to the light. “Alright, but first—you mind explainin’ why this little doodad’s got everybody so worked up?”

Lucian hesitated, their gaze distant. “The key isn’t just a key. It’s part of a mechanism that can open… or close… the fracture between timelines. In the wrong hands, it could mean disaster.”

Elvis whistled low. “And here I thought it was just for openin’ some fancy lockbox. Guess I’ve been underestimatin’ you, huh?”

Lucian met his gaze, their expression softening. “You’ve handled this better than I expected, Elvis. Most people wouldn’t have stuck around after hearing what’s at stake.”

He grinned, slipping the key into his pocket. “Well, what can I say? I’m not most people.”

The streets of Memphis were quieter now as they made their way toward the next destination. Elvis kept a wary eye on their surroundings, his usual humor giving way to a growing sense of unease.

“So,” he said, breaking the silence, “what’s next on this little treasure hunt of ours? Another creepy music shop? Maybe a haunted diner this time?”

Lucian chuckled softly. “The watch will guide us. But we need to be careful—those shadows weren’t lying about the danger.

Elvis nodded, his fingers drumming against the guitar case slung over his shoulder. “Yeah, I got that loud and clear. But I gotta say, all this doom and gloom’s startin’ to get to me. You ever just… stop and enjoy the moment, Lucian?”

Lucian glanced at him, their brow furrowing. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Elvis said, gesturing to the city lights around them, “look at this place. The music, the people, the food… This is life, darlin’. You can’t spend every second worryin’ about what might go wrong.”

Lucian was quiet for a moment, their gaze distant. “It’s hard to enjoy the moment when you’ve seen what happens if you fail.”

Elvis stopped walking, turning to face them. “Hey,” he said, his voice softer now. “You’re not in this alone anymore, alright? We’re gonna figure this out. And maybe, just maybe, we’ll even have a little fun along the way.”

Lucian’s lips curved into the faintest smile. “You’re something else, Elvis Presley.”

He grinned, tipping an imaginary hat. “Don’t you forget it.”

The watch led them to the edge of the city, where an old, abandoned church loomed against the night sky. Its windows were shattered, and ivy climbed the stone walls like veins.

“Let me guess,” Elvis said, eyeing the building. “This is where the next clue’s hidin’, right? Real subtle.”

Lucian nodded, their expression serious. “Stay close. We don’t know what might be inside.”

They pushed open the heavy wooden doors, the creak echoing through the empty nave. The air inside was thick with dust and decay, the scent of mildew lingering in the corners.

Elvis shivered, his voice low. “Man, this place gives me the creeps. You sure we’re not trespassin’ on somethin’ sacred?”

Lucian didn’t answer, their focus on the watch as its glow intensified. They followed the light to the altar, where an ornate box rested beneath a tattered cloth.

“This is it,” Lucian said, their voice barely above a whisper.

Elvis watched as they carefully removed the cloth, revealing intricate carvings on the box’s surface. Symbols similar to those on the pocket watch shimmered faintly in the dim light.

“What’s inside?” Elvis asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

Lucian hesitated before opening the box. Inside was a small, crystalline orb that seemed to pulse with an otherworldly energy.

“Elvis,” Lucian said, their voice trembling slightly. “This is the heart of the mechanism. It’s what powers the key.”

Before Elvis could respond, the sound of footsteps echoed through the church. They both turned, their hearts pounding as shadows began to gather at the edges of the room.

“Looks like we’ve got more uninvited guests,” Elvis muttered, gripping his guitar case tightly.

Lucian slipped the orb into their pocket, their expression hardening. “We need to get out of here. Now.”

Elvis nodded, his adrenaline kicking in as they prepared to face whatever danger awaited them in the shadows.

[scarletttries]

Kendall Roy x Reader Engagement/Wedding Headcanons:

Pairing: Kendall Roy (Succession) x Gender-neutral!Reader

Rating: Fluff with one slightly NSFW thought at the end clearly labelled.

Author’s Note: After my own lovely bachelorette party last weekend I got a request for wedding/engagement headcanons for Kendall Roy and couldn't resist! Thank you to everyone who wished me a lovely weekend for my Hen Do and for sending in so many amazing succession requests!! 😊

- From the minute he knew you were the one for him, Kendall would be mentally planning your wedding. It wouldn't matter that it would take him another year to actually propose, he'll live for meticulously planning every detail to make it the most memorable proposal and wedding in history, constantly be thinking of things he wanted for the two of you, scribbling down ideas in his notes app that he can't wait to share with you one day.

- The proposal would be so incredibly Kendall: there would be fireworks, and a stage, and he'd have prepared a musical number, and everything for the whole week would have been set up to lead you unawares to the moment he finally gets down on one knee and asks you to marry him. To be the other half he's always been missing. The loving family he never thought he could deserve. And when you, thank god, say yes; a hundred doves fly out behind you as glitter rains dow,n and it truly feels like something out of a movie or a fairytale, the staged photos front page of every paper in town that night.

- For the entire time you're engaged it's like Kendall's already in the honeymoon phase, his obsession with you is completely renewed. He's so enamoured he finds himself calling you into his office just so he can close the blinds and wrap his arms tightly around you, barely able to contain his grin as he leans down to kiss 'his fiance', a phrase he cannot stop uttering. He'll introduce you to people you've already met a dozen times just so he can say 'my fiance' about you again and again, cheeks aching from the smile that hasn't left his cheeks since you said yes.

- Now that you're engaged he'll also get even more ridiculous with gift giving; when Kendall first starts dating anyone he can be a little insecure that they're just with him for the money, so he holds back on being too generous until he knows their true feelings. But now, expect a bouquet of your favourite flowers every hour, on the hour, each with funny little notes Kendall writes imagining what your life will look like together. Not to mention he insists you both go shopping as 'you both need an entirely new wardrobe now that you're engaged.'

- There won't have been a lot of times you've been able to meet Sophie and Iverson while dating Kendall, so he'll be nervous about re-introducing you to them now that it's as his fiance. But he doesn't need to worry, Sophie is so smart and friendly she'll immediately start running through wedding planning ideas and suggesting you pick them up from school once a week so you can get to know the two of them better - she's seen how much better her father is doing since he found you and genuinely wants to keep you around as much as possible. Naturally Iverson is a lot more reserved, but you'll give him the space he needs and keep the pressure off and over time he'll smile when you walk in a room and Ken will know you've been accepted as part of their dysfunctional family unit.

- The other Roys might not be as welcoming to you when the announcement comes out, assuming you're just some beautiful airhead, or worse, coming after the family's power and fortune, despite how happy Kendall seems to be around you. The exception to this is of course Connor, who will pull you aside after Logan spends dinner shouting about how important prenups are, and tell you he's so excited to have another sibling and he's so happy Ken found you. *For more Kendall prenup drama I have a whole smut fic on it here.*

- Kendall would be torn between wanting a long engagement, loving the affectionate excitement the two of you share every time he catches the glint of your ring out the corner of his eye, and being so excited to plan the wedding that he gets it all set up for just a few months later. No expense would be spared for your day, whether you want to have an island to yourself, an exquisite country house or just to hire out the gallery of your dreams. As long as you're okay with it being BIG, then Kendall will make any dream you have come true.

- Kendall's first wedding was a much more classy, muted affair where he felt like he had to stifle himself to fit the idea of what a wedding should look like. He's learnt a lot about himself since then, and you've always been there to encourage him to be honest with you and hold on tight to the parts of his life that bring him joy, so be prepared for the whole day to be elaborate and spectacular.

- That doesn't mean it's not also magical, and romantic, and intimate. You and Kendall find ways to make every second meaningful to the two of you, stealing away for moments at a time to just look into each other's eyes, overwhelmed with the joy that you are now joined forever, secure together for all the ups and downs your lives will bring (unaware that one of three photographers Kendall hired is taking candid shots that Kendall will have printed as six foot high portraits to hang on the walls of his penthouse, and another dozen images to line his work desk.)

- While you and Kendall aren't too worried about a lot of the classic wedding traditions, you will spend the night before the wedding apart, opting for a cosy night in a luxury hotel with your friends to get prepped. You'll have to have your friends taking shifts by the door at all times though, as Kendall sends an influx of deliveries to show he's thinking of you. And then at 2am he'll turn up at your hotel suite begging your friends to let him see you one more time, "for one last night of sin" and they'll have to remind him it's bad luck and force the door shut in his moping face.

- But it's completely worth it as he sees you for the first time on your wedding day, somehow more beautiful than he could have pictured, dressed to perfection, wearing the same smile as you walk towards him that you did that first day he kissed you and knew then and there that this day would be coming soon. He has to choke back tears as he stutters through his vows, overwhelmed by finally having a true family member in his corner who can love him and have his back through anything.

- Without getting too NSFW, we can all agree Kendall on his wedding night would come at you like a man starved. Greedy hands squeezing and clawing at your thighs hard enough to leave marks as his teeth clash against yours with the sheer fervour that he comes in to kiss you with. A strangled mix of growls and moans, broken up by ecstatic laughs fill the room as he embraces you for the first time as his spouse, exploring and tasting every inch of you like you are an entirely new world only he gets to claim. A world where now he feels safe and accepted and loved. A world he's never going to leave.

[drarry-soulmates]

Analyzing the few villains I actually like

Inspired by my Draco reddit post from months ago that got some hate because apparently Draco is utterly irredeemable and the worst-ever villain according to some so-called fans on a Drarry subreddit of all places….. lol…. Some fans were literally mad at me for this post bc apparently I was glorifying Draco or something idfuckn know (it wasn’t even a Draco post… It was literally an obvious Drarry post on a Drarry subreddit… like???):

They were bringing up all the bad things he did that i was apparently overlooking……………… First of all, I know he’s not perfect, i know he’s a bigot. But like ???? Should that be all i focus on? He is far more 3 dimensional than that. And as if I don’t love WAY WORSE actual villains lol……. Sometimes I can’t with Reddit. :i

So I decided to compile a list of ALL the villains* I liked.

*I left out very obvious antiheroes/non-villains, like Light Yagami from Death Note or Venom.

These are literally the only "villains" i like though, since I just don’t tend to like bad characters, which was why originally before reading the books, I did not like Draco becos the movies just made him look like a simple bully.

MY VILLIANS LIST (incl Draco, not in any particular order):

1. Draco Malfoy from Harry Potter:

Kill count: NONE (the ONLY one with no kills on this list…. Irredeemable my ass.)

Redeemed: YES. <33 Tbh, in the original 7 books, Draco is more a tragic antagonist than antihero, since antiheroes make bad choices for a bigger goal or personal gain. Draco's not like that—his story is more about fear and trying to survive, not purpose or redemption.

But apparently some supposed Reddit "Draco fans" & JKR think he is irredeemable lol. :V He’s literally just a troubled teenager. (There’s another troubled teen on #4 of this list that makes Draco look like a literal saint.)

What did he do: Was a giant bigot (in childhood only). Accidentally hurt people in his quest to kill a single person or else his family dies. He could not even go through with killing in the end because bb felt bad. :’| (Irredeemable where?)

Why i like him: He is just such a complex character, smart, canonically a good person deep down (unicorn core wand), only misguided by his family, & so terribly gay for Harry Potter LOL. Oh, and he acts tough but is just a giant softie deep down >///< He just needed a hug. :‘C Was very lonely boi. (He says so in HPCC.)

2. Hannibal from Hannibal:

Kill count: 23 (that we know of).

What did he do: Murder and consume people in horribly gorey, disgusting, wildly creative/artistic ways.

Redeemed: NO, but he’s in a cute gay relationship with Will. lol. So i give him a pass.

Why I like him: he is an interesting guy, super intelligent, incredibly polite (he eats the rude), witty, calm, collected, calculating in an insanely hot way, charming, got style, oh, and really loves Will so much. The whole show was just their dark and literally insane (on Will’s part) love story tbh.

3. Crowley from Supernatural:

Kill count: thousands

What did he do: Torture countless people in hell and kill many others on Earth over the span of hundreds of years.

Redeemed: YES. <33 Lovable King of Hell turned antihero that even the good guys end up missing!! </3 ;___;

Why I like him: he is HILARIOUS, amazing personality, a true hero in the end ;__; Became a softie in the end. <33

4. Tate Langdon from American Horror Story:

Kill count: 15

What did he do: Was a 17 yo school shooter (Draco’s age), raped & impregnated his girlfriend’s mom, set his mom’s bf on fire, and loads of other things…. X:

Redeemed: YES. (but not to the extent of turning into an anti-hero..)

Why I like him: He is sooo sweet to Violet, his girlfriend (who forgave him for raping her mom– yeaaaa that’s AHS for ya!) Their love story was pretty epic, as she made him a better person in the end. He was just so lonely, complex, & misunderstood (only forgivable because he’s fictional THANK GOD!)

But also in the end, we learned that his reasons for being evil was due to the Murder House he was living in, where supernatural forces would amplify negative emotions and encourage malevolent behavior. Tate’s connection to the house and its spirits fueled his evil tendencies, so it wasn’t reallyyyyy his fault. :|

Plus as a ghost, no longer controlled by the House, he did become a better person and regretted shooting up the school. He just becomes a big softie. lol. :3 thankfully he and Violet were one of the few to actually get their happy ending on such a twisted show. :’))

5. Klaus Mikaelson from The Vampire Diaries universe (spoilers for The Originals):

Kill count: thousands

Redeemed: Sorta. He still kills people as a vampire hybrid, but he becomes less of an antagonist & he willingly dies for his daughter.

Why I like him: He is COMPLEX, wild, impulsive, rash, immensely powerful, has an alluring & totally charming personality, witty, hilarious, absolutely fearless, wicked smart, fun, heart of gold (when he’s not tearing people limb from limb). One of the most powerful characters in the series. When he loves, he loves VERY strongly (his love interest Caroline was a very lucky woman…. although he stabbed her in the stomach but then later healed her and they had a moment lol >///<). He is loyal to a fault and ended up willingly giving up his life for his daughter. He was over 1,000 years old.

6. Vaas Montenegro from Far Cry 3:

Kill count: hundreds

Redeemed: not a chance…. :V But that’s what i actually like about him.

Why I like him: he’s funny, HILARIOUS, sexy, batshit crazy, psychotic, super strong, skilled warrior fighter pirate, hot, psychopath just for the fun of it, impulsive, and pretty gay with the protagonist LOL

That's it. Those are the only villains I like lol. Hard to believe I had to explain on a reddit post that just because a fictional character isn’t morally upstanding, doesn’t mean you can’t still love them. Villains tend to be super interesting. Although all but 2 on my list were redeemed. V_V