#both have in character asides during the song

[realitys-ex]

The original link is dead (at least for me), so here is one that works: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hBga7yYBJ6Y

I have shown this to almost every member of my family (some took a lot of convincing), all of them loved it despite initial misgivings (including one who listens almost exclusively to punk).

I played some of it for my mom, and out of curiosity we decided to check out the original version of one of the songs (I think it was for "Jessie's Girl/Squirrel"), the second the vocals came on, she screamed for me to turn it off. Which may give an indication of how different this is from the originals.

Even if you think you'll hate it, I highly reccomend giving it a one song trial (especially the first one)

If nothing else you'll appreciate how... not what you expected it was. (and give the comments a read, they are really great).

As an aside I don't think it is 1/16 of the play time, as the math doesn't really work out (a 3 minute song becomes 6), so I assume the 1/16 refers to music timing, but I have forgotten what little I knew about music notation, so take that with a grain of salt.

[bluecanvasshoe]

Obstacles

platonic!Marauders x muggleborn!hufflepuff!fem!reader

(image from: crimsoncloverhoney on Pinterest) Summary: You remake old memories with the Marauders and sparklers are, for once, used correctly in their vicinity.

warnings: not beta read... other than that, nothing, really!

content: fluff, takes place during their fifth year, hints of Wolfstar

word count: 2k

a/n: My first Harry Potter/Marauders fic!!!! wowie!!!! This one was fun to write, and I hope I didn't make everyone too out of character!

title from the song Obstacles by Syd Matters

---

It was evening, and dinner ended about an hour ago. You left the Hufflepuff barrel and joined the Marauders in the Gryffindor common room soon after changing out of your uniform.

“I’m telling you guys, Lily fancies me! She didn’t roll her eyes when she saw me, that’s progress!” James said, his hands moving frantically for emphasis as he sat straight on the sofa.

Sirius scoffed from where he was lying with his head leaning on Remus’ shoulder. “Oh yeah, what did she do, scowl instead? Tell you to leave her alone?” 

James faltered at that, falling back into the cushions behind him. 

“Maybe- maybe you’re right, James. Maybe she’s not as annoyed by you,” you interjected, looking up from the game of wizard’s chess you were playing with Peter. The two of you sat opposite of each other, sitting in front of the fireplace.

He perked up at that, extending a hand in your direction. “See!? She agrees with me! And she’s a girl! She’d know more about Lily than I would!”

Sirius hummed, “She’s a Hufflepuff; that’s the people-pleaser house.”

“I mean it,” you insisted, watching as your opponent contemplated his move.

Peter glanced at James after he clicked his button on the timer, his head resting on one of his hands. “Prongs, you sound a bit loony right now.” 

“Loony!?” James shrieked, mouth wide open and glasses catching the light of the fire. Peter simply shrugged, looking back to the game once you’d made a move.

“Please, everyone, stop shouting…” Remus groaned, eyeing everyone with exasperation. “I’m trying to read this book, and it’s very hard to follow when you’re all bickering like first years.”

You sat up, looking over to Remus. “What book are you reading?”

“The Idiot.”

You nodded, humming. “What part are you at?”

He marked the page before closing the paperback book and setting it aside. “The part when Kolya reads the newspaper to the Prince, the nihilists, and… the others in the room. At the dacha, I think?”

With a grimace, you looked back to the game of chess. “Yeah, that part’s odd. I was so confused when-" 

"God, you swots.” Sirius interrupted, lolling his head back onto Remus’ shoulder. “I’m so bored.” He whined with a dramatic frown, kicking his legs petulantly.

“Well, what do you suggest we do?” The boy Sirius had leaned his weight on asked, watching the game of wizard’s chess in front of them. 

Sirius grinned, sitting up and crossing his legs in his lap. “Well, I found sparklers-” “We are not doing a prank right now.” Remus interrupted, turning to the dark-haired boy. Sirius sputtered, mouth agape. “Why not!? Moony, come on!”

James had a similar reaction, his eyes wide and jaw dropped. “Moons-” 

“No.”

“Why does everyone hate me today!?” James lamented, dramatically falling back onto the couch.

“No one’s awake and wandering the halls except for prefects, dumbass.” Peter muttered, “Bishop to D5.” You cursed under your breath, watching as he clicked the timer on his end and your clock began to count down.

“There are more uses to sparklers than causing chaos,” Remus suggested, stretching his arms with a pop that Peter grimaced at. “And besides, we have more time to carry out a prank tomorrow.”

Sirius sighed, an expression of boredom on his face as he gestured for the werewolf to continue. “Well… we could just use them as intended. Light them up, or something.”

“That’s so boring!” Both James and Sirius exclaimed, looking at each other and stretching to the other couch to make the loudest, most painful-sounding high-five ever in response to their in-sync whining. They proceeded to keep high-fiving until they both deemed it satisfactory, receiving a fond eye roll from Remus and a hum from you.

“Back at home, my old muggle primary school friends and I would light sparklers at the lake and look at the stars. We could do that,” you commented, clicking the timer and allowing Peter to make a move. The sound of Sirius and James cheering and saying ‘again, again,’ repeated in the background.

Remus nodded, shifting to stand up. “Come on then, James. Get your invisibility cloak,” He prompted the bespectacled boy, causing him to look at Remus with a smile. 

He left Sirius after one more high-five, practically leaping up from the couch and running upstairs, nearly slipping on the hardwood steps. He returned just a few seconds later with the cloak in hand. “So, why did you want it?”

“We’re going to the Black Lake,” Remus said decidedly, shifting his weight onto his right leg when his left hip began to hurt. Sirius, noticing the change in his demeanor, stood up and placed a gentle hand on his back.

You and Peter looked at each other, shrugging before resetting the game. You extended a hand, “I was bound to lose, anyway. Good game.” Peter shook your hand, smiling. “Good game.”

With that, you and the Marauders gathered by the entrance to the common room, watching as Sirius ran off to fetch the muggle sparklers. He returned not long after he left, looking to the stairway to make sure no one was around before giving the okay. James unraveled the cloak and draped it over the five of you.

–

The air was chilly when you made it outside, typical of a fall evening. The sun set a while ago, and the stars just came out. Thankfully, everyone was dressed in jumpers; to say everyone was wearing their rightful jumper would be a stretch, though.

Once making it to the Black Lake, James abandoned the cloak by a large tree, looking up at the sky as Sirius pulled out the pack of sparklers. Remus fished out an old, rusty lighter from his pocket. 

“Come now children, gather round!” Sirius exclaimed, holding out a few sparklers and handing them out to you, James, Remus, and Peter.

Remus helped light them all, sparks, as the name suggests, flying from the rods.

You all stood in a circle, the sparklers creating a warm glow in the otherwise dark, cold atmosphere of the lake. Everyone’s faces, all rosy cheeks and large smiles, were illuminated by light.

James and Sirius were by far the most entertained by the things, waving them around. You admired the glow and crackle of them, the smell familiar as you took in the scene around you. It felt homey, familiar. You hadn’t spoken with those friends that you first did this with in years, and yet it hardly bothered you as you enjoyed remaking those memories with the Marauders.

You and the others slowly drifted to the shore, James and Sirius shrieking as the flames grew close to their fingers. “My hands are gonna get burnt off!” James cried dramatically, waving it around. 

The long-haired boy laughed, throwing the sparkler that was swiftly burning down to his fingers out into the water. It hissed, little sparks flying as it immediately snuffed out. “Oi, did you hear that!?” 

“What? Is something wrong?” Remus asked from his spot on the ground beside you, noticing Sirius’ lack of a sparkler as he took his eyes away from the sky. He had put his out not long ago, attention turning to the stars.

“The sound it made when it went out!” Sirius replied, causing James to turn to him and Remus to sigh with relief. 

“What? What sound? I wanna try!” James promptly dipped the sparkler into the calm, glass-like water of the Black Lake, gasping when it hissed and the sparks ceased. “Oh, that is wicked!” the boy grinned, fetching another sparkler and holding it out towards Remus. The group’s designated sparkler lighter walked over, holding out the flame to it again.

Meanwhile, you and Peter talked about stories from non-Hogwarts schools or summer breaks.

“My third-grade teacher was awful. She yelled at me for getting a bad mark on a quiz, and then made me redo it without telling me what I did wrong… I got the same mark.” You explained, dragging the end of the snuffed-out sparkler in the sand to make various little drawings and patterns.

“I was homeschooled, but I went to a summer camp program a few times. A kid called me brick-like in nature.”

You snorted with wide eyes, a hand over your mouth. “What? That- I’m so sorry, that���s not funny.” You apologized through poorly concealed laughter, Peter joining you soon after. 

“No, it’s funny. Besides, it happened when I was, like, twelve.” The blonde-haired boy reassured, admiring the moon’s reflection on the lake.

Your discussion was interrupted when Sirius suddenly shrieked. You both whipped your heads to where the sound originated from, watching as James chased Sirius with a sparkler. 

“My hair! You’re gonna catch my hair on fire!”

“Good! I’ve had enough of it, your hair gets everywhere in the dorm!” James shouted back, though the chase abruptly ended when he tripped over his own feet, face-planting onto the ground. The sparkler fell from his hands, snuffed out after it landed in the sand.

You all burst into laughter, Sirius turning around and guffawing with a hand over his mouth. “Mate, are you alright?” He snickered, crouching down. James looked up, taking Sirius’ hand and standing again with his help. “I’m fine,” the boy replied, though embarrassment laced his tone.

“Merlin, stop chasing each other around and look at the stars,” Peter interjected, gesturing to the sky. “You’re far less likely to trip and die this way.”

“Fine, fine.” James put his hands up, strutting over with Sirius following close behind. 

They sat down beside Remus, lying on their backs. You, Peter, and the scar-covered boy followed, getting comfortable on the ground below you.

You rested your hands on your stomach, listening to the gentle wind and admiring the cosmos above you and the group.

Sirius shuffled a little closer to Remus, worming his arm underneath the other boy’s head as support. Remus received the gesture with an affectionate smile, the muscles of his shoulders and neck no longer aching.

James adjusted his glasses, taking them off and wiping their lenses with the hem of his jumper before placing them onto his face again.

For once, the group quieted. 

You weren’t always around the Marauders. You met the group on the second day of your first year, swiftly growing to trust and be trusted by them. However, you were in a different house and had your own group of friends which you loved greatly.

If there was one thing you knew, the pranksters were a rambunctious group. There were very few scenarios in which the words were taken from their mouths, and you were glad to be there for one of them.

“...there was a slim chance I was to be allowed into Hogwarts,” Remus suddenly interjected, his voice soft. “Werewolves aren’t really allowed in these spaces. I’m so glad I was, though. I don’t know what I would’ve done if it weren’t for all of you. Everything has felt easier since I met you lot.”

The rest of you collectively awed, smiling.

You couldn’t see it in the dark, but Sirius shuffled a little closer to Remus.

“Aw, Moony,” James said, a large grin evident in his tone. “You too, Moons. I’m happy we’ve all stuck together. We will, always and forever.”

Even if you weren’t an official Marauder, you still felt your heart warm in your chest and a giddy smile overtake your face.

As a muggle-born, the chances were slim for you, too. But a little part of you knew that, even if you were born a muggle, you would've found them somehow. To know you belonged in something so tight-knit as the Marauders felt like a little more than just a happy accident, and you like to believe they thought so, too.

So, you all lay under the stars until your eyes drooped, and you walked up to your common rooms. That night, sleeping soundly amongst your Hufflepuff friends and roommates, you felt safe in the knowledge that you’d always belong somewhere; no matter the lifetime or universe.

[northopalshore]

Zendaya birth chart analysis

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Additional asteroids mentioned: Fama (408), Adorea (268), Charisma (627), Aura (1488), Fan (151590), Juno (3), Great Attractor, Part of Fortune

In this post, I will be writing down and explaining some aspects & placements in her natal birth chart to better understand her character as well as fame indicators in her chart.

Aquarius (7° libra) 1st house

Aquarius risings tend to have longer body proportions. Slender, and unique something you notice about her immediately is her height, her hair colour, accessories & her forehead. Their heads may seem a bit larger in proportion to their body i.e bigger forehead, wider face. Their personality will stand out in the crowd as they are not afraid to be themselves in any given situation.

ex: I had an aquarius rising friend back in high school she would be giggling uncontrollably even during assembly to herself for some joke she had in her mind. Zendaya has always stood out in terms of personality. Back when she used to make videos on Vine everybody loved her lip syncing to Beyoncé's "YONCE" but she was just excited to hear her favourite song playing randomly on the radio & decided to post the video. It was just her, being her.

With the libra degree though, it brings a lot of balance into her appearance. Not to mention she's extremely beautiful! Not everyone will agree with her ideas and that's alright to her. She's not the type to judge others for their opinion.

Saturn (5° leo) retrograde in 2nd house

This is can be seen in the chart of someone who didn't grow up with a lot of money. Both of her parents are teachers (work with children as leo rules the 5th house 5° 5 see? ). She'll have to work very hard to earn money. With saturn in retrograde and with the leo degree she always had the ability to gain a lot of money through her talents in the acting/ performing field. She has worked in the entertainment industry for YEARS before gaining mainstream recognition. And from a very young age (since then gaining a massive amount of money through acting) She found financial stability through her talents. Since her second house is in pisces, I think she probably has dreamt of affording all the best things in life and has never stopped working towards it. Her career also started off catering to children aka the younger audiences acting in family friends/kid shows.

Moon (7° libra) in her 3rd house

She has a very close harmonious relationships with her siblings. She could feel like she can never live without them as they are a source of comfort. She'll tend to rationalize her emotions, always trying to tinker with logic and how she feels. She'll find herself looking at her feelings from an outside perspective often. She was also close to her mother during early school years ( her went to the elementary school her mother taught at: Fruitvale Elementary School in Oakland) Most of her siblings will be much younger than her.

Taurus 4th house

She grew up in a very harmonious household. Very safe, loved and cared for by her parents. She didn't move homes/ left her birth place meaning her childhood was spent where she was born. There were no arguments or fighting that took place in her home aside from maybe "Who ate my snack?? I was saving that for later!"

Venus (24° pisces) in the 6th house

She could feel like her childhood was very work centric. However, given that this is Venus I believe she really enjoyed working in a sense. She was passionate about it. It may have caused a lot of fatigue, trauma & anxiety even as a child, but she this was what she truly passionate about regardless. A perfectionist placement in terms of beauty, art, talents.

Mars (25° aries) in Cancer 6th house

Similar to venus. She focuses a lot of her energy into working towards her dream. She worked with a lot of female figures, with friends & family ( also a lot of her early gigs involved family sitcoms ) she usually feels very safe at work. She knows she is always working with people that she can trust. She is also a perfectionist. She feels that everything she does must be perfect. Combined with her venus she'll take her acting very seriously, she will not feel satisfied until her performance meets her ideals.

Aura (23° aquarius) in Gemini 5th house

People are very drawn to her unique, genuine energy. She's seen as this fun loving, talkative, passionate, sometimes very stubborn person that everyone wants to be around. She exudes this rebellious magnetism. People feel like she's always doing something different in comparison to other actors for example. They'll see her as more of a friend than a celebrity. People feel like they will never be bored with her, she's always doing something exciting!

edit: there was a previous typo 23° aries instead of aquarius. It's fine now.

Fan (21° Sagittarius) in Leo 7th house

Her fans love her for her talents, she attracts fans from all over the world and people of different cultures & ethnicities. Her fans will also be very invested in her love life i.e love to see her in relationships. They genuinely want her to be happy in her love life. Her spouse/partner could also ber her biggest fan!

Fama conjunct Saturn

It took her time to gain a following, but when she does gain fame it will stay. You will see her name written down as one of the most prominent stars in Hollywood.

Fama retrograde in 2nd house

Same as conjunct saturn honestly.

Fama trine pluto

Explosive fame. It took her a while to get into mainstream media but when she did she changed the game. Her career has shifted into a more mature state as she's now taking more adult roles in her career.

Part of fortune (4° cancer) in Libra 8th house

She'll have a lot of luck in rebirth & transformation. She might be very lucky in high stakes situations. She's likely to live a long and healthy life. She'll perform better in adult or taboo roles, gaining more abundance through those roles. She'll be able to take on more emotional roles with complex character relationships. (i.e her roles in Euphoria & Challengers gained a massive amount of attention)

Mercury (3° Gemini) in Libra 8th house

She could love to talk about taboo subjects. She's not afraid to point out the things that hurt her, or things that bother her close relationships. She will be the person to talk to them through hard times. She's a loyal friend and whatever secret you tell her she's taking them to the grave.

Pluto (0° the purest form) in the Sagittarius 10th house

She will be very attractive. Whatever she does the spotlight will be on her. The public will either love her to death or hate her with every bone in their body. She will garner the attention of people worldwide. People in her field can be very jealous of her magnetism. She'll easily gain power and recognition throughout her career. A revolutionary, a trendsetter, what more can I say?

Adorea(11° aquarius) in Sagittarius 10th house

The public will adore her for her ability to stay authentic and genuine. She is also loved through the internet, the media. People will adore her in videos or anytime she's on screen.

Great Attractor(13° aries) in 10th house

She is a force to be reckoned with in her career. The great attractor being in the 10th house is one of the most powerful, magnetic and influential placements a person could have. She will be loved by the public, she will always attract attention throughout her career. People loving, adoring, praising & wanting to follow you. Ex-USA president Barack Obama has this placement too!

Chiron (14° taurus) in 8th house

People will look to her for comfort. She has the ability to heal other people with her presence. She may have had some uncomfortable experience with physical touch, or is generally uncomfortable with people she isn't close with touching her. I don't want to get too deep into this placement but she definitely has some trauma surrounding the 8th house.

Chiron trine ascendant

She might have had some insecurities concerning her looks in the past, people might have bullied her for the way she presented herself or just her appearance in general. However this placement also allows her to overcome those easily. This also gives her the ability to express complex, gut-wrenching emotions of her face. Great for acting. She's able to showcase the characters soul.

Pluto conjunct MC (26° taurus)

This usually means her image will be very public. You'll see her face & her body everywhere. Her career involves a lot of photos being taken for magazine covers, interviews and whatnot.

Jupiter (7° libra) retrograde in Capricorn 11th house

This means she will get a lot of luck with friends, and social media. She will be very popular online. Since it is in retrograde however, there was a delay in achieving that big blow up on the internet ( compared to when she started her career).

Neptune (25°aries) retrograde in Capricorn 12th house

This placement can be seen in individuals with prominent or severe mental health issues/ trauma. She can feel very depressed at times, feeling alone, feeling detached from people around her, feeling shunned. The aries degree indicates that this has started to develop from a young age. She was very shy when she was younger. Her parents even had to attend a class on raising introverted children. I've read multiple articles addressing her openness on talking about her trauma. "She felt that stress that came with being a child actor, feeling anxious and always delivering out of fear that people will lose interest. "

Uranus (1° aries) retrograde in Aquarius 12th house

This is very similar to neptune, in a sense that this stems during early childhood. She felt very alienated from the rest of her peers. She could be insecure about her personality, or her uniqueness. She doesn't feel like she truly belongs.

Sun trine Jupiter

She has a very big personality. People will notice her wherever she goes. Popular & beautiful. Taller/bigger than the average height/ people notice her height.

Saturn trine uranus

Her internet presence will be very long lasting.

Venus opposite uranus

She's the type of person who'll want to express her fashion through unconventional means. Lady gaga has venus trine uranus I keep thinking about her iconic meat dress lol. Since it is opposite in Zendaya's chart, it's more like a double negative in a way. You have Uranus but also you're going against Uranus. Which means she'll love to dress up in a unique uniform type of way.

ex: in every opening/event she goes to she will always match her outfit with her character/the theme of the movie. Extra in a tame way so to speak whereas Mother Monster, well.. is anything but tame.

Charisma sextile MC

She is seen as someone very charismatic throughout her career.

Zendaya's birth chart:

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***disclaimer: entertainment purposes only, reader discretion is advised***

Thank you for reading ♡

@northopalshore

[cobaltperun]

Masterlist

I don't mind talking to people, so don't be shy, if you ever come across my page and figure you might want to tell me something, go right ahead, send a private message, or an ask, I'm happy to respond!

💙 - fluff/happy ending ❤️‍🩹 - a bit of angst 💔 - angst ☠️ - main character death 🔞 - smut ⚡- fight scenes

Smut for long stories is separated from the main stories.

Stories

Eternal Flame (Jenna Ortega x female reader) 💙💔⚡

Summary: For her it’s a passion, for you it’s an accident. And as she continues shining brighter and brighter with each role you are left mesmerized, drawn to her flame and cherishing every time she lets herself be vulnerable with you. (Reader takes on the roles of Lost and WOTS Reader character)

Scream

Lost (Tara Carpenter x female reader) 💙💔⚡🔞

Summary: To anyone on the outside, and to Tara’s friends, you were Tara’s fierce protector, the MMA fighter who’d take anyone on for Tara. The Guard Dog, as Amber called you. You had no idea you’d have to protect her from people who claimed they loved her. It didn’t matter. As long as you and Tara had one another there was nothing you wouldn’t be able to survive.

Story warnings: Scream violence, family issues, trauma, angst, certain sensitive topics

Request - To Never See You Again (Tara Carpenter x female Reader; She was unattainable, radiating with blinding beauty that went above and beyond her appearance. And though you knew you shouldn’t, you flew too close to the Sun, hoping one day she would look at you the way you looked at her. Set right before Scream 5) - 2.2k 💔☠️

Request - Pick Up (Tara Carpenter x Female Reader; You and Tara can't help but be silly) - 1.1k 💙

Request - Marry Me? (Tara Carpenter x female Reader; One day, while you play, you tell Tara that you want to marry her, she remembers it years later) - 1.3k 💙

Request - Jealous? Yes! (Tara Carpenter x female Reader; both you and Tara are oblivious, until Tara decides to tell you about her crush during one of your movie nights) - 1.3k A very tiny crack version 🤣 💙❤️‍🩹

Request - One Time Too Many (Tara Carpenter x female Reader; Tara keeps getting drunk, and you're the only one who can get her to stop, at least for the night.) - 2.3k 💔 Part 2 - One Last Time - 1.8k ❤️‍🩹💙

Request - Sweep 'er off Her Feet (Tara Carpenter x female Reader; Liking soccer brings Tara closer to Woodsboro high's two soccer players, the striker and the team's sweeper.) - 2.3k 💙

Request - Jerks With Hearts of Gold (Tara Carpenter x female Reader; You and Tara bicker, constantly, over the tiniest details, but little do her friends know, it isn't all as it seems.) - 4.8k 💙 Side story: Work For It - 2.7k 💙 Smut for this story - Property Damage - 2.5k 🔞

Request - Heartbeak Girl (Tara Carpenter x gn!Reader; Tara had her heart broken and turned to you, not knowing how you felt about her. Perhaps a song could make her realize how you feel. (no Ghostface, band au) - 2.7k 💙❤️‍🩹

Request - Heart on Sleeve (Tara Carpenter x GN!Reader; Tara was never all that interested in tattoos, aside from thinking some of them were cool, until you came along. You were proud of your tattoo, but you didn't feel like showing it off to just anyone, and then Tara came along.) - 1.8k 💙

Request - Drunk Words, Sober Thoughts (Tara Carpenter x GN!Reader; Drunk Tara is a bit flirtier than she usually is when she gets drunk, and you, as her best friend, have to deal with it) - 1.1k 💙

Request - Miss Popular (Tara Carpenter x GN!Reader; Nerd and a popular girl? Sometimes it ends well.) - 1.5k ❤️‍🩹

Request - 5 Times You Made Coffee and 1 Time You Didn't (Tara Carpenter x GN! Reader; Tara has a crush on you, a barista at a local coffee shop) - 3.1k 💙

Request - Moonlight Dance ((Smut) Bottom Tara Carpenter x top G!P Female Reader; Prom night ends with you and Tara making love for the first time) - 3.1k 🔞

Request - She's my Girlfriend! ((Very small smut) Tara Carpenter x Female Reader; Sam walks in on you and Tara having sex.) - 1.3k 🔞

(Request) Rule Breakers ((Smut) Bottom Tara Carpenter x Top G!P Female Reader; Not even getting grounded can keep Tara away from you) - 4.9k 🔞

Wednesday

Woe out the Storm (Wednesday x female Reader) 💙💔⚡

Summary: It took some time, but eventually you came to realize only Wednesday Addams could look at the raging storm of chaos and destruction and make a home out of it. Only she could listen to the cacophony of the roaring thunder and hear a melody.

Request - Her Wrath (Wednesday Addams x Female Reader; a jealousy driven prank causes you to have an epileptic seizure, incurring Wednesday's wrath) - 0.8k 💙❤️‍🩹

Request - The Beat of Our Hearts ((Smut) bottom Wednesday Addams x top G!P female Reader; Wednesday needs it rough, she needs it fast, just so she doesn't have to accept she loves it soft and gentle as well. Aged-up characters) - 1.7k 🔞

Miller's Girl

Genius (Cairo Sweet x female (G!P) Reader) 💙💔🔞

Summary: It was such a cliché, a reunion she didn’t expect to ever happen, let alone six years after she last saw you. It was supposed to mean nothing, a bit of nostalgia, maybe a brief catching up while waiting for class, it was supposed to be a small wave of nostalgia, not a tsunami that disrupted her entire life. You were her opposite, and as hard as she tried she couldn’t resist your pull.

Request - (Don't) Let Go (Cairo Sweet x female Reader; Following Cairo breaking up with you you turn to drinks and sex until one night Cairo sees you with your latest distraction) - 1.8k 💔

Request - No Chance ((Smut) Bottom Cairo Sweet x top female (G!P) Reader; After years of being best friends and eventually developing feelings for one another, Cairo asks you to be her first) - 3.1k 🔞

Finestkind

Next Week (Mabel x female Reader; Mabel only has eyes for you) - 1.2k 💙

Request - Sunny Day (Mabel x GN! Reader; Mabel and you spend a fun day at the beach, and certain words finally get spoken) - 0.8k 💙

X

Request - Sunset (Lorraine Day x Female Reader; Reader makes sure Lorraine still knows she is beautiful, despite her scars) - 1.5k 💔💙

Request - Puppy Trouble (Lorraine Day x GN!Reader; Lorraine and you aren’t exactly sure how to handle a puppy, but at least you’re having fun and Mr. Raindrop is very cute.) - 0.5k 💙

The Fallout

Request - About Time ((Smut) Bottom Lorraine Day x Top G!P Female Reader; Lorraine stays by your side when you are sick instead of going to film another movie, old feelings both of you tried to ignore end up coming to the surface) - 2.6k 💙❤️‍🩹🔞

Request - I Can't Lose You (Vada Cavell x female Reader; Following the incident you are struggling to move on, and Vada feels like she's losing you.) - 1.5k 💔💙

Beetlejuice Beetlejuice

Darkest Part (Astrid Deetz x Female Reader) - Complete (6 chapters - 30.7k) 💙❤️‍🩹 enemies to lovers

Summary: You will never, in life or afterlife, if such a thing exists, meet anyone as infuriating, rage inducing, entitled, or frankly awful, as Astrid fucking Deetz. There isn’t a single thing you’d like more than to never be around her, but as your luck would have it, you just can’t stay away from her.

One Piece

Straw Hats take care of Sick!Reader (platonic) (The title says it all, just the Straw Hats reaction to Reader getting sick) - 0.4k 💙

Incorrect quotes

MCU

At the Avengers party

Adopt, don't shop

Happy black widow

It's you

Pun

New leaf

Wednesday

Secret

Random things

Tara Carpenter issue alphabet

[bones4thecats]

you can also do Orion pax/Optimus prime x cybertroniana reader, both were a couple before the war, and they still follow him on Earth

TFP! Optimus Having A Longtime S/O

Character: Optimus Prime (Transformers Prime) Requester: @zinnia1506 A/N: I love this trope. Just a calm and nonchalant boyfriend x his loving and slightly-feral S/O! Anyways, I hope you like this. ⚠️ Spoilers/Trigger Warnings for: The ending of the show and Predcons Rising Film ⚠️

Fun fact: I wrote this listening to Lion King/Guard songs😂

••●••��••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●•

»»——————————-　 Optimus Prime 　——————————-««

⚔️ Optimus doesn't have that many people left, at least people that he knows that are currently alive. He knew more friends were deceased than alive basically

⚔️ Though, he does have someone alive that he cares the most about; his adorable S/O. You.

⚔️ Meeting back when he was still Orion Pax and a young data clerk working inside of the Iacon and you were the current Grand Diplomat of Alpha Trion's rule as Cybertron's Council's head

⚔️ You had to deliver some information in pads to the place to get organized, and when the young bot smiled and allowed you inside to organize them to how Alpha Trion wished, you began to ask about his life

⚔️ As you began to speak from time-to-time whenever you visited with more classified documents, a bond was formed quick. While many solar cycles passed, the pair of young bots were ogled on by many elders, especially Orion's friend, Megatronus, and your boss, Alpha Trion

⚔️ You were there when Megatronus, now Megatron, was denied in favor of Orion. And you were right by his side when the war blasted off and you soared away with his small team to Earth in hopes of finding something to help with the war and your home planet

⚔️ And while you two would spend many of your days by one another, as the war progressed, that was becoming harder and harder. Thankfully, your teammates would get you two to spend time together by taking some work away from your servos

⚔️ Now, when it comes to missions, you guys almost always go together. Very rarely are you apart in battle. And whenever you go without him, he keeps solid contact with you, and whenever he doesn't get a decent reply, he gets worried beyond recognition

⚔️ During the time fighting against Megatron for the final time, you were help hostage with Ratchet. Being held not for assistance in finalizing the synthetic energon, but for your information on fixing Cybertron, in which you told Megatron to piss off and jump down a hole to a scrapheap

⚔️ Unlike Ratchet, you weren't given to Predaking to kill, rather, you were held in a cell surrounded by Vehicon soldiers. In a matter of minutes, you had gone from acting unconscious to wrapping your legs around on soldiers neck from behind and killing all around you. Think of that scene from The Suicide Squad (2021) when Harley broke out

(Here's a link for reference: Link) - warnings for A LOT blood and death!

⚔️ Optimus was very pleased when he saw both you and Ratchet okay, but when he saw a Vehicon attempt attacking you, he blasted him to the Well of the Allspark. Despite this, you fought brilliantly against the many soldiers against you

⚔️ You also showed a new depth of rhythmicity, from attacking Megatron from behind as Optimus took the front. And before you were knocked aside roughly and your sparkmate was hanging onto the Nemesis, everyone, including Decepticons, were shocked at how in-sync you two were. You really were sparkmates

⚔️ Bumblebee then killed Megatron, making you leap in joy and help him get your sparkmate up and onto the ship's base. You held the mech closely as you cheered with the rest of your team about the win against the Cons

⚔️ Throughout the rest of your lives together, you spent it fighting against Unicron. And while it was hard for you to say goodbye to your lover of many hundreds of years, you couldn't help but shed a tear when his red, white, and blue spark spun around you and acted as if he was pecking your forehead

⚔️ The others watched with smiles as you kissed the spark before watching it fly away. Ratchet patted your shoulder as Bee and the other, including Knockout, gathered around you in a large group hug. You were a family no matter what, thanks to the mech you called your one and only...

"I love you, Y/N..."

[edges-of-night]

Imagine LotR characters reacting to you having had a long day ♡

･ﾟ✧ Aragorn.

Aragorn is tireless when it comes to work, so sometimes he’ll forget the time himself. He’ll silently scolds himself then, because he wants to you to be able to relax once your work for the day is done. He would offer to make you a calming tea with herbs he’d search for you in the forest, so that you can unwind together in the evening.

･ﾟ✧ Arwen.

Arwen would be the kind of person who keeps checking in during your work, be it physically or mentally demanding – or both! Either way, she wants to make sure you’re not overworking yourself. In the cases you do have a long day anyway, she will remind you that it is over now and that you should take it slower tomorrow. She’d offer you to cuddle and stroke your hair, and you’d calm down through her ethereal presence alone.

･ﾟ✧ Boromir.

Boromir would be the type of person to visit you at your workplace and, should the day almost be over, distract you tenderly from what you were doing so that he could steal you away and would get to spend the evening together with you. Be it hugging you from behind when you’re sitting at your desk or laying his hand over yours, holding the tool – the man can hardly wait to you for himself again, and he is not ashamed to show it.

･ﾟ✧ Elrond.

After long days, Elrond is always short of scolding you for overworking yourself. But he knows how seriously you take your duties, so he swallows down any frustration, especially after you’ve returned to Rivendell in the evening. Without pressuring you, he will remind you how important it is to set your boundaries and that you don’t have to say yes to everything.

･ﾟ✧ Éomer.

Once Eomer realizes that it is going to be a long day for you, he puts everything else aside and prioritizes the preparations for you. He will make sure that you can unwind as soon as you’re home. Depending on your mood, he would sit in front of a cosy fire with you or go for a horseback ride through the night.

･ﾟ✧ Éowyn.

After a long day, Eowyn would welcome you home with a sympathetic smile and a quip. Then she’d put her arms around your neck to give you a kiss and ask what you’re in the mood in for. Her breezy nature makes it easy to forget all the hardships of the day – now, you’d get to spend the evening however you please.

･ﾟ✧ Faramir.

Faramir worships you like a deity, and that is precisely how he treats you after a long day, too. He’d shower you in kisses, embrace you in a warm bath, read you poetry, and help you get dressed in the most beautiful nightgown – or do nothing of the sort, if you ask him to just give you space. He respects your every wish.

･ﾟ✧ Frodo.

Frodo would sigh but smile when you return home after a long day. He’d say something along the lines of “I told you to take it easy”, but quickly proceed to ask you what you’d like to have for dinner. Frodo likes to take care of you, so you’ll have nothing to concern yourself with after work. He loves to take you on faraway journeys by reading from his favourite books, and he’d quietly chuckle to himself once you fall asleep on the armchair.

･ﾟ✧ Galadriel.

Galadriel will have nothing of your “But I still need to do…” – with a firm voice and kind eyes, she’d remind you of your well-being and that no job is so important that it cannot wait until the next morning. So instead, you would be whisked away by song and soft lights, maybe to your favourite spot in Lórien, from where the two of you will watch the sunset with your favourite drinks. No burnouts on her watch!

･ﾟ✧ Gandalf.

Gandalf’s attitude toward your ‘long days’ is heavily dependant on what kind of work you’re giving yourself up to. While he commends every good deed and self-sacrifice, he draws the line somewhere. When you come home after having done nothing but tedious labour for some lord all day, exhausted and boneless, he’ll have nothing but a disapproving grunt from behind his pipe. Needless to say, your favourite baked goods would magically appear in the kitchen just a few moments later!

･ﾟ✧ Gimli.

Not only does Gimli admire your power, he openly brags about your amazing productivity and relentless helpfulness. However, once you are alone, he’d make a point of quietly whispering to you, “Still, you got to take care of yourself, dearie!” That does not stop him from spoiling you with lavish Dwarven banquets by the fire though! With Gimli, there is never any shortage of luxury.

･ﾟ✧ Haldir.

After a long day, Haldir would offer you a hot bath and silent company. He is majorly impressed by your work ethic, even though it borders on unhealthy sometimes. He’d never say that out loud, of course! All he does is offer you comfort in the ways he knows how to express. He’d ask you about your schedule tomorrow to unknowingly work ahead for you – only to disguise it as him being even more diligent than you once you found out.

･ﾟ✧ Legolas.

More than anything, Legolas is amused by how much you try to achieve in one day. Once you’re back in his arms, he’d muse about how much time mortals spend with work and other duties, instead of savouring their precious time. Though you are tired, his semi-philosophical outpours – and especially his light-hearted mood – never fail to make you laugh.

･ﾟ✧ Merry.

Merry looks up at your endurance and sense of duty. He is not afraid to tell you either. However, his idea of a relaxing evening is usually to go visit the Green Dragon, to drink, sing and dance. You can’t deny that his energy and movement help you loosen up. If the dancing alone doesn’t help, Merry will offer you a massage to ease your tension. He may be the thinking type usually, but special times demand special measures!

･ﾟ✧ Pippin.

Let’s be honest, Pip cannot relate to your workaholic attitude at all. That said, he does admire you for your enthusiasm and helpfulness. He’d be the kind of person to surprise you with your favourite dessert when you come home, having prepared it all afternoon just to make you happy. You will spark a whole new drive in him!

･ﾟ✧ Sam.

Your return home is always Sam’s favourite part of the day – right after waking up next to you, no doubt. His calm nature never ceases to soothe you. Sam knows how to unwind and always has your favourite pipe ready for a quiet sunlit evening in his garden or your self-built rocking chairs. He’d quietly ask you about your day, but after some conversation, he’d go, “That’s enough of that, I’d say” and just entertain you otherwise until you’d go to bed.

[vxnuslogy]

— as our skins start to burn and rot.

pairing: abyss!lumine x f!reader

— warnings: angst no comfort + character death

— author's note: this is heavily inspired by gigi's new song "fable" so please give it a listen! art credits to @.void_ling on twt. | 505 words.

— tags: @ryescapades @moineauz @mikashisus @https-sourlimes @wystiix ; if you'd like to be tagged, please fill out the forms in my pinned!!!

there is something wrong with you. something so incredibly wrong as you hide your face from your leader’s smiling face. 

lumine is beautiful and there is no denying that. behind her strong and cold front as the order’s princess, she was kind and playful. it’s hard to believe that this woman who could kill a god with only a sword was the same woman who your heart now beats for. you find yourself going down on one knee in front of her as she pledges you as her new guard—her right hand. 

you promised her victory, she promised you vengeance and eventual peace. everything was strictly professional so why? why is it that when you spend the night with her by your side you feel something burning? your body tingles down to your very fingertips when she brushes your hair aside to look at your face or when your hands accidentally brush.

suddenly your feelings of loyalty begin to merge and muddle with something else—something complicated and untouched, by you or her.

since when did every swing of your weapon burn with her name and ideals? every injury and near death experiences endured for the sake of her survival. your life is now dedicated to gathering every flower khaenri’ah lost during the cataclysm–just to see her smile. you’re very sure you’d be the lamb she ends up sacrificing for a greater cause—and you wouldn’t mind. what’s worse is she doesn’t do anything about this burning feeling you both have, in fact, she does the opposite—lumine is so persistent in trying to burn you alive.

but really, nothing could ever quite compare to the wrenching of your heart when she starts to pull away after you gather your courage to reciprocate. 

when you start reaching for her hand, she flinches back with a look in her eyes you can’t quite describe. with every meeting by her side, she drifted further from your reach. god, it hurt to see her eyes become dimmer and dimmer. but if you approached, an argument will ensue and her words felt like hot iron being pressed to your skin.

just because you believe you two are in love doesn’t mean it is true.

oh, it burns. everything burns as tears flow from your eyes, hand helplessly trying to reach out for her figure in the blazing war she has ignited. hundreds of years trying to withstand the consequences of your curse just to stay with her, only to be left with your skin rotting on the ground.

for a moment, you see her turn around–stars of gold blinking in her eyes as she glares in anger–not at you, never at you. but what else could she do? you willingly offered yourself as a lamb to the slaughter, of course she would end up leaving you, too. 

in your final moments as the love of your life–who’ll never know you love her to hell and back–turns to leave, you quietly laugh and look up at the sky. burning gold, just like her. 

© vxnuslogy 2024. do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my works without my knowledge or consent in other platforms or websites.

[humanpurposes]

Sour Switchblade

No sooner has she landed in the courtyard of Storm’s End, she knows her mission is doomed // Main Masterlist

Aemond Targaryen x nameless female character (daughter of Rhaenyra)

Warnings: 18+, smut, childhood friends to enemies to lovers, Targcest (uncle and neice), threats of violence, bit of blood, dub-con, breeding kink

Words: 4100

A/n: Also available on AO3. Inspired by my current obsession with this song.

She knows where she is the moment she reaches the skies above the Stormlands; this part of the world was not named in irony.

She clutches tightly to Silverwing’s reigns, dragon and rider fighting through the fierce winds and heavy rain that stings the skin of her cheeks.

Lucerys and Arrax would have never made the journey. They are both too small, too young to take on such a burden as messengers on the eve of war. Jacaerys should have the more arduous task ahead of him, to fly to the Eyrie and then to Winterfell, to earn the support of the Arryns and the Starks to their mother’s cause. 

She has one destination, one objective, one Lord to win over. But no sooner has she landed in the courtyard of Storm’s End, she knows her mission is doomed.

She hears Vhagar’s call, or rather feels it reverberate in her chest, before she sees her. She is a monstrously large dragon, the oldest of her kind. Only her head and neck loom over the battlements, but it is enough to terrify the Princess. 

Because with Vhagar comes Aemond. 

He had hardly spoken so much as a word to her during the petitions for Driftmark, but his eye never left her. 

She pushes aside any childish ideas of hope for a civil encounter with her uncle. Any love between them was severed the night he claimed his dragon and Lucerys claimed his eye in the tunnels below Hightide.

Her name is announced to the Round Hall as she trails in behind an escort of guards. Rain drips from her soaked leathers and hair, the braid she wore long blown apart by the wind. She clenches her jaw, determined not to shiver in the presence of the Lord of Storm’s End, or the one eyed Prince who lurks at the edge of the room.

Aemond stands with his hands clasped behind his back. For a moment she sees surprise in his gaze, but it soon settles into a smug smile, his single eye positively gleaming through the miserable light of the hall.

Beside him is a young woman, dressed in all the finery of a Baratheon Lady. Her suspicions are confirmed when Lord Borros mentions a marriage pact.

She can’t stop herself. She looks to Aemond, knowing full well she is doing nothing to hide the fury in her face. And he stares back, like a hunter stalking prey.

She has nothing to offer Lord Borros, nothing that could compete with such a match. Her brothers are either betrothed or too young.

But she cannot fail, not when Rhaenyra has lost so much already these past few days.

Aemond’s eye remains fixed on her, vaguely amused, but still alert and intent. Perhaps he believes he has found a weakness, perhaps the shark smells blood.

If memory serves correctly, Lord Borros’ wife passed some years ago.

“I offer my hand to you, my Lord,” she says. “Pledge your banners to the true Queen, and your sons will be Princes.”

Lord Borros brings his fingers to his beard, muttering into the ear of his Maester and nervously glancing towards his other royal guest.

The amusement has faded from Aemond’s face, his moment of triumph snatched from him. Even the mere consideration of her proposal undermines him.

His chin is tilted down now, his eye dark and lips pressing together to withhold a sneer. She revels in it, taking a breath to stop herself from smiling.

“I will need time to consider,” Lord Borros says. “I will make my decision known on the morrow.”

Aemond takes one step towards her before she is whisked away by the eldest of the Baratheon sisters, Cassandra, and no less than four guards. Cassandra takes her arm in hers and leads her through the castle to a guest chamber, in a tower that overlooks the courtyard and Shipbreaker Bay beyond that. 

A bath is drawn for her and a gown of black with gold embroidery laid out of her to change into. It seems unusual to see herself in these colours, but then again, her grandmother, Rhaenys, is half Baratheon.

Dressed in her gown and with her hair newly done, she watches Silverwing seek shelter from the Storm under the battlements. Vhagar is apparently sleeping, with her wings cradled over her body to keep out the rain. 

Silverwing would be miserable here, she thinks. A dragon needs clear skies, they cannot always fight against the wind and rain.

It’s hard to tell exactly when the sun sets. There are no warm colours in the sky, no streaks of orange or gold. The sky beyond the storm clouds fades from grey, to indigo, and then to black.

Lady Cassandra escorts her to the Round Hall for supper. It is a modest affair. Lord Borros’ advisors and bannermen sit at tables in the heart of the hall, while a high table is set before the Stone Throne. Lord Borros sits at the centre, with two empty spaces either side of him. She might guess who they are for.

She sits between Lord Borros and Cassandra, and finds just enough time to steady her nerves with a sip of wine when Lady Floris enters with Aemond on her arm.

She swallows her mouthful wine thickly, meeting her uncle’s gaze for only a moment out of courtesy. 

He takes his place beside Lord Borros and the meal commences. Servants bring out whole roasted boars, and given Aemond’s reaction to the suckling pig at dinner in the Red Keep, she refrains from moving her mouth or looking in his direction. In fact she hardly has an appetite at all. She sits with a stiff spine, glancing down at the plate of potatoes and greens placed in front of her.

Lord Borros asks her a question which immediately slips her mind. It occurs to her she’s supposed to be winning him over, to prove to him that she will be a good and dutiful wife. A better wife than Aemond will be a husband for Floris anyhow.

The thought churns her stomach and leaves a bitter taste in her mouth.

She allows herself another glance to Lord Borros’ other side. Aemond’s head is close to Floris’. The light from a candle on the table flickers over his chin, his jaw, the top of his neck underneath his collar. He leans in closer to mutter something in her ear.

He was always so softly spoken as a boy, subdued, even in moments of frustration. He still seems subtle, but in a different way now, a quiet kind of arrogance, a silent threat with the smallest of gestures. The few words he had spoken at that dinner, though aimed as insults towards her brothers, had ignited a thrilling sort of intrigue within her.

And now Floris gets to sit beside him, gets to feel his breath on her ear as he whispers in that low, chilling voice– 

“Princess?”

“Y-yes?” she stutters, turning her eyes back to Lord Borros.

Only she seems to have caught the attention of Aemond and the other Baratheon girls now.

“I said our union should be a plentiful one, if your mother’s talent for producing sons is anything to go by.”

The only thing that stops her from reaching for her knife and jamming it into Lord Borros’ neck is the quiet huff of a laugh coming from Aemond.

She shoots him a deadly glare but his cruel smile does not waver.

“The man who eventually claims my niece’s hand will have Strong sons, there’s no doubt about that,” he says, reaching for his cup.

She watches him drink, the way he pouts his lips, how his throat bobs as he swallows.

“What a kind compliment, uncle,” she says, “though not one I could extend to you.”

Aemond sets his cup down gently. “Meaning?” he asks, not looking at her.

“It took you a decade to claim a dragon, did it not?”

His head snaps towards her. “Yes, and I claimed the largest dragon in the world.”

“An impressive feat,” she says, “one your father was proud of, I’m sure.”

He wants to lash out, she can see it, his fist clenching on top of the table, his lips pursing together, his eye going wide, his nostrils flaring as he takes a few breaths to compose himself.

The rest of the table has fallen to an uneasy quiet. She simply reaches for her wine and takes a generous sip that slips over her tongue with a delightful burn.

Lord Borros calls for music, and his daughters, Cassandra and Ellyn find partners to dance with. Maris remains seated, with her arms folded over her chest and a sour look on her face.

Floris seems hopeful, sitting up and trying to catch Aemond’s eye from his blind side. It is a hope he will not entertain. He keeps one hand on the table, tapping a long, slender finger against the wood.

“You will forgive me,” Lord Borros says to her, “I am too old to dance now.”

She tries to smile to hide her repulsion. What an endearing match she’s managed to find for herself. But this is for her mother– her Queen, so that the throne might pass to the rightful heir and not a usurper.

In the corner of her eye she sees Aemond is watching her, and she does not shy away from his gaze. His lips curl into a smirk but she can see the calculations and strategising behind that piercing, violet eye.

What lurks on the other side, she wonders, underneath the leather eyepatch and the scar slicing down his face?

A bloody mess of flesh flashes before her eyes. She remembers how he cried out in pain, how he clutched his hand to his face, how the thick, dark blood seeped from between his fingers and spilled onto the floor as he fell. She had only watched dumbfounded, as Lucerys dropped the blade, as she and the other children were ushered into the Hall of Nine, as the gash in Aemond’s socket was sewn and their mothers both called for justice.

Could she have stopped her cousins from confronting him? Could she have defended him from her brothers? Would he have at least felt some of her sorrow if she had gone to him that night or wrote to him in the years that separated them?

Those possibilities mean nothing now. Aemond looks at her with no warmth, no fond memories of their shared youth.

He’d be handsome without the scar– he still is, but it is a severe kind of beauty. 

The moment she manages to finish the food on her plate, she excuses herself, declaring that she is tired from her journey and will need to recover before Lord Borros makes his decision in the morning.

Lord Borros presses a kiss to her hand, and she winces at the way his beard feels against her skin. When she looks to Aemond, he is suppressing a smile by bringing a cup of wine to his lips.

She walks quickly through the halls, towards the guest chamber, already taking off the heavy gold earrings and necklace she had been adorned with, and sighs at the relief of their weight. The sooner she can get to sleep, the sooner the morning will come, then the sooner she can finally leave, either a success or a failure, but she will be free of him. Free of the tight, restless feeling in her chest.

The enduring storm does not help her nerves, the rain beating down and the wind howling against the castle walls. Her heart leaps at every irregular noise, anything that might be mistaken for a voice, a breath, a footstep. She glances over her shoulder repeatedly, but all she sees are the empty hallways she leaves behind.

Two guards wait outside her chambers. They do not move to open the door for her, as they would on Dragonstone. She huffs and pushes it open herself, falling against the door once it is closed.

Borros Baratheon is hardly a man of principle. He has no love for Rhaenyra, and is only considering offering his support out if pride. She has no friends here. 

She quietly turns the lock on the door.

She heads to the vanity to set down the jewellery and release the pins from her hair, watching it fall around her shoulders.

Outside the window, she hears Silverwing’s lamenting coos through the clashes of thunder. She reaches behind her back to undo the laces of her gown as she goes to the window, but she cannot spot her dragon through the dark and the heavy rain.

“We’ll be home soon,” she whispers into the night.

She nearly screams when she hears the door rattle.

The wood clashes against its frame, but the handle does not budge, for now.

She barely has a few moments to run to the vanity, hand outstretched and eyes fixed on a long, sharp hair pin when she hears the door burst open. It slams and heavy footsteps thud against the floor, towards her.

A hand clasps over her mouth before she can make a sound. An arm wraps tightly around her waist, keeping her arms by her sides, before she can reach the closest thing she has to a weapon.

She thrashes, squirms, tries to call for help or graze her teeth against the intruder’s flesh but nothing deters him. 

She looks down at the arm around her waist. She recognises the black leather sleeve of his jerkin, the wide palm pressing down on her stomach, veins and tendons running underneath pale skin. 

He rests his chin on her shoulder, so his long, silver hair falls around her face. He smells of smoke and lavender.

He lets out a frustrated huff as she unsuccessfully tries to jerk her elbow into his side. “Did you really think that you could just fly about the realm, trying to steal my brother’s throne at no cost?” he hisses against her ear.

She squeals in fury against his palm, trying to twist her way out of his grip. She manages to drag him with her until their sides collide with the vanity. Pieces of priceless jewellery and bottles of perfume fall to the floor, and shatter. 

She has a mere second to wrench herself from his grip, only for him to grab her again, turning her to face him as he pulls her into his chest.

Aemond’s expression is deadly, his eye wide, lips pressed together in a scarcely contained rage.

“The throne belongs to my mother,” she says through the drumming in her chest, with all the defiance she can muster. “She is the one true heir. King Viserys–”

“Viserys is dead!” Aemond bellows, pushing her back against the vanity. “His word means nothing now that he can no longer enforce it.”

With her hands suddenly free she attempts to strike him, but he sees her intention before she even moves, pinning her wrists to the wood, keeping her body in place with his own.

She clenches her fists, only able to dig her nails into her palms. “What is it that you want from me?”

Lightning ignites the sky behind her. The white light dances over his scar and the shape of his mouth. His expression is softer now, lips slightly parted.

“I will have what I am owed,” he says.

Her eyes flicker to the eyepatch and the edges of the scar it cannot conceal.

Aemond hums a small laugh at her presumption. “Fear not, dear niece, that is not your debt to pay.”

His gaze trails over her face, then lower, to her lips, along her neck, to the gown slipping from her shoulders and the bare skin at the top of her chest.

“Do you remember what you said to me, the day you left?” he says softly.

The children they were are almost half a lifetime away.

She remembers standing under the weirwood tree in the Godswood of the Red Keep, a warm breeze rustling the red leaves above their heads, the sun shining through the branches.

She remembers holding Aemond’s face in her hands, wiping away the bitter tears as they fell from his eyes. 

He had begged her not to leave, but they were powerless then.

He is the one to bring his hand to her face now, running his thumb over the lone tear that spills from her eye.

“I said I loved you,” she utters. “I said my heart was yours, and it always would be.”

Aemond hums softly. “You made a promise to me,” he says. “Do you intend to keep that promise?”

How can she? She would have to forsake her mother, her Queen, her brothers, the realm, her own dignity.

“It was a childish infatuation,” she says.

“Not to me,” he says, fury creeping into his voice once more, his grip on her hand tightening.

She pushes her one free hand against his chest but he does not budge. “Aemond, please, you’re hurting me…”

He presses his body into her, forcing her further against the vanity– a warning, a command for obedience. He trails his thumb over her cheek, to her lower lip, taking her chin in his fingers. When she tries to look away he brings her eyes back to him.

He leans in gradually, pressing his forehead and his nose against hers, before he takes a steady breath and captures her lips in his. His kiss is starved but slow, bruising, deep and desperate. The hand that was on her chin comes to her neck, angling her head precisely where he wants her.

His hands trace down the back of her neck, between her shoulders, to pull at the laces of her gown. They fall apart between his fingers and, barely breaking away from her, he tugs it down until the black and gold fabric falls to her ankles. He lifts her out of it, seating her on the vanity, raking the hem of her shift up to her thighs so he can place himself between them as he continues to kiss her.

A dazed sort of warmth pools within her. She can feel her senses and her sanity slipping.

But he cannot best her, not after everything that has happened in the days since the King’s death.

She grazes his lip with her teeth, and when he seems to welcome it, she clenches her jaw as hard as she can.

He tears himself away from her and staggers back, bright blood dripping from his mouth. She can taste it on her tongue.

“Little cunt,” he hisses.

She slips the hairpin into her hand and runs for the door. Aemond catches her in a few strides but she’s ready for that, turning to drive it into his blindside.

Even then he misses nothing, holding her wrists behind her back with one hand and snatching the pin from her grasp. She hears it clatter to the ground as Aemond drives her forwards, towards the bed.

She lands face down and tries to lift herself up, only to feel his forearm pressing into her neck to keep her down.

“You were always stubborn,” he says, planting a delicate kiss to her shoulder, “and as exciting as that is, I want you to be good for me, dōna riña.” 

The iciness in his voice sends a shudder down her spine.

“Say it, say you’ll be good.”

Hit tears prickle in her eyes. She shifts underneath his hold, but her urge to fight is already fading. “I’ll be good, qȳbos,” she whispers. 

Aemond’s chest hums with a groan. At last he relents, releasing her neck and her hands. But no sooner is she free, he turns her onto her back and slides his hands up her thighs, hooking his fingers over her smallclothes and bringing them down her legs.

“Up,” he says, dragging her by her hands to sit, so that he can pull her shift over her head.

She cannot be sure why she’s shivering, the cold air, the noise of the storm, or the hungry look in Aemond’s eye at the sight of her bare body.

She keeps her hands on his shoulders as he lays her down and trails his fingertips down her stomach, to the obvious arousal at her core.

With a lingering kiss to her cheek he presses a single finger inside her. She gasps at the sudden sting of it, digging her nails into his skin.

But he reaches deeper than she’s ever been able to, stroking against the flesh within her, until she starts to melt. He edges her closer and closer to bliss until she comes undone around him with a whimper.

“Sȳz riña,” he coos against her cheek. “That’s it…”

She tries to cling onto him as he moves away, but he is not gone for long. He swiftly undoes the buckles of his jerkin, followed by his shirt, boots and breeches. His body is lithe and lean, harsh angles and soft skin.

She glances at his eyepatch again. 

Aemond lets out a low, irritable “hmm,” as he looms over her. His hair falls around his face, tickling the skin of her collar. He leans on one palm placed by her head, as he drags the tip of his cock through her folds, teasing between her bundle of nerves and her entrance. The sensation burns brightly and has her hips bucking, but it’s not enough.

“Beg me for it,” he utters.

“Please,” she whispers, cupping his face in her hands, feeling her thumbs along the sharp edges of his cheeks. “Please…”

He pushes into her with a single stroke, filling her to the hilt with a soft sound of skin against skin.

She winces at the stretch, throwing her head back against the bed and trying to steady her breath as he rocks into her.

He’s gentle at first, but before long he is restless.

“I knew you fucking wanted this,” he pants, gripping at her waist to pull her in with every snap of his hips. “You little whore, I can feel you getting wetter.”

She should hate him for it. There is so much she should hate him for, but she cannot think past the pleasure tightening and rising within her, the sound of Aemond’s laboured breaths or the lewd, wet sounds of their coupling.

His hands grab at her legs, positioning them against her chest so he can fuck her harder and deeper.

“Oh gods,” she whines as he pushes against a spot that makes her feel weightless. 

“Take it bastard,” he hisses, pressing his forehead against hers and wrapping a hand around her neck. It’s not enough to hurt, but it’s enough to know it could. “Fucking take it.”

She is sure it’s too much, his hold on her neck, his breath over her lips, his body pressing against hers as he pounds into her without mercy. 

“I’m going to fill you up,” Aemond rasps, “return you to King’s Landing with a Prince in your belly.”

His promise sparks a new feeling entirely, her cunt clenching around him as her voice becomes a slur of desperate, wanton moans.

“Oh you’d like that, wouldn’t you, ilībõños? Want your uncle to give you a silver-haired babe?”

“Please,” she mewls, placing her hand over his, “please, qȳbos,”

With a few sharp, brutal thrusts, her body erupts with her climax, until she is a moaning, quivering mess. 

Aemond’s jaw hangs open as he fucks into her through his own release, until every last drop of his seed is buried within her.

He keeps himself nestled within her, positioning them properly on the bed, hooking her leg around his hips, keeping her body and her head close to his chest.

Her eyes flutter closed, lulled by the soft sound of his breath and the gentle thud of his heartbeat.

But the pleasant glow of her peak cannot last forever.

“I can’t go back to King’s Landing,” she whispers against his skin. Not now that Aegon has claimed the throne, not now that her mother is amassing her banners and the Greens are doing the same.

Aemond takes her chin his fingers, forcing her gaze to meet his. “Did you think I’d ever let you go? You’re mine now, dōna riña. That is what you've always wanted, is it not?”

She helplessly traces her fingers along the muscles of his arm, held tightly around her.

Perhaps she did want that, once.

“What of the Stormlands? What of our duties to our families? What of the war?”

Aemond silences her with a delicate kiss to her lips. She lets it soothe her, for the sake of a love once lost, for a moment of bliss in a world unfurling into chaos and bloodshed.

“Lord Borros will pledge his banners to Aegon or I will burn Storm’s End to the ground,” Aemond mutters between their kisses. She can already feel his cock beginning to harden once more inside her. “And no one will keep you from me, my sweet, strong girl.”

Tags (comment to be added)

General taglist: @randomdragonfires @jamespotterismydaddy @theoneeyedprince @tsujifreya

[midnightshade]

GojoHime: Evidence and Discussion

Jujutsu Kaisen isn't a romance series. It's a horror action series that focuses more on platonic bonds and camaraderie between its characters. That being said, just as any shounen series, it has its fair share of ships, each with its own assortment of crumbs and small details.

GojoHime is a particularly interesting ship to look at. Being a massive fan of it myself,  it's fun to pick through the evidence that supports it. I'd like to share the evidence that I and many other GojoHime fans have found. I'll be starting with the smaller, weaker evidence first and working my way up to the strongest evidence.

Before I start in earnest, I want to clarify that this isn't made to attack any other ship. People can ship whatever they want, and no ship in the series is canon (aside from exceptions like Hakari and Kirara). I like GojoHime so I want to talk about it. That's really it.

With that out of the way, let's begin.

First, let's start with the evidence outside of the manga itself. This one isn't very compelling, but it is cute. In Japan, there is a chip brand called Bakauke. Bakauke has two mascots known as Borin and Barin, who are girlfriend and boyfriend. When Bakauke collabed with Jujutsu Kaisen, Utahime and Gojo were chosen to represent the Borin and Barin respectively, thus being depicted as girlfriend and boyfriend.

Moving on to evidence found within the actual manga, we see that on the splash page for Gojo and Utahime, the print behind them depicts arrows known as a Yagasuri pattern. In Japan, this is a symbol often used for weddings. It's meant for good luck because "a shot arrow does not return," and therefore, a married woman does not (or should not) return to her parents.

We also see depictions of them under an umbrella often used at weddings. Sharing an umbrella is also a common romantic trope in Japan.

Other smaller evidence exists in the form of their phone call. This consists a beeper code, where the number of their call spells out "I like you" in code, and another interesting detail is that Satoru calls Utahime from his recent contacts, implying that he calls her often.

Gojo and Utahime were made to be opposites. Aside from the obvious "opposites attract" trope, it creates a compelling visual story between them. Man and woman, strong and weak, modern and traditional, blue and red. Satoru hates alcohol and loves sweets while Utahime loves alcohol but hates sweets.

Gege said Gojo only puts down his Technique with people he trusts, which we see him do with Utahime. He trusts her enough to have to actively put his Technique back in place after she throws a teacup at him.

Moving on to some of the strongest and most convincing evidence, we have Waka Inoue, Utahime's very own technique, and Gege's past works.

Gojo had a picture of Waka Inoue as his background as a teenager. He clearly finds her attractive, as is common, considering she's a popular model, but the reason why this is important is that Inoue shares a lot of similarities with Utahime.

Both women have noticeable bangs, they're the same height (166cm), and they share a love for alcohol, karaoke, and sports, specifically baseball. Waka is described once as a "competitive crybaby who hates to lose," and as we see in the Anime, Gojo has a way of firing Utahime up and she is also prone to being a bit of a scaredy-cat and a crybaby. We also see her more competitive side come out during the baseball tournament between Kyoto and Tokyo.

Moving on to Utahime's Cursed Technique, as some Japanese fans have pointed out, Utahime's Soro Soro Kinku (Solo Forbidden Area) is based on a real love song about forbidden love with lyrics about a masked lover. The records from the singer, Akina Nakamori, are called Utahime records, and the singer even does Gojo's unlimited void hand sign during her live performances of her song, "Fin."

The most compelling bit of evidence for me is Gege's past works. Two of his three one-shot manga have characters who are very similar to Gojo and Utahime. The male protagonist is usually cocky and teases the female protagonist, while the female protagonist gets annoyed at his antics but is otherwise down to earth and kind.

In Nikai Bongai Barabarujura, the protagonist, Noroma, reminds me of teen Gojo in appearance and behavior. He is "the strongest" who teases Nodoka, the female protagonist, for being weak but has an obvious respect for her drive and inner strength.

In Kamishiro Sosa, we have a similar set-up as before. The male protagonist, Ganji, is very energetic and careless with the female protagonist, Rekko's, feelings, and is seen to have a very similar type of banter as Gojo and Utahime have.

Gege clearly likes that type of pairing, which isn't surprising given the bickering couple and rivals to lovers is a popular trope in romance. It's not unusual for Mangaka to reuse old ideas, and that seems to be what happened with Gojo and Utahime. Even their appearances share similarities.

As you can see, GojoHime has a lot of thought put into it, and it's very interesting to see the little details Gege has put into their dynamic. There's definitely a reason why so many adore this pairing, and I'm glad Gege has paid attention to that.

[sundrop-writes]

Ghosting

Mike Schmidt x Fem!Reader

Summary:

Mike has been in love with you for as long as he can remember. For about as long as the two of you have been best friends. He always thought he would have more time to work up to confessing those big, dangerous feelings for you - until something more dangerous swooped in and stole any time he had left with you.

Mike Schmidt x Fem!Reader. Star-Crossed Lovers. Pure Angst. Set during the events of the movie (and features spoilers for the plot).

Word Count: 3,700

Horror Characters Masterlist | AO3 Link

Full list of warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: this fic contains major spoilers for the film - so if you haven't watched it yet and you're just here for Josh Hutcherson being sad and beautiful (and if you want to watch the film unspoiled) be warned; this fic does use Y/N; this fic is almost pure angst - the beginning is fluffy, but that only exists to make the angst hurt more; this fic does not have a happy ending; hurt, no comfort; this fic has mentions of Mike's past traumas and him having symptoms of PTSD; the reader is a mother figure to Abby; Mike refers to the reader as his 'wife' (in his mind, not in dialogue); Mike is in love with the reader (and it's implied that she knows this/can sense his feelings) but he doesn't get a chance to actually confess to her and they aren't in a romantic relationship at any point during this fic; (uh, kind of spoiler for the fic but this was in the prompt/request) - major character death: the reader character dies after being stabbed by Springtrap/William Afton/The Yellow Rabbit (gotta love fnaf - when a character has that many names); mentions of blood; descriptions of violence - descriptions of the fight between Afton and Mike, descriptions of the reader being stabbed by Afton; Abby is there to witness the reader's death; idk what the other warnings are aside from major angst - this will be an emotional gut punch. Anyway, please enjoy it lmao.

A/N: The title of this fic comes from the song Ghosting by Mother Mother. I was listening to different songs trying to pick a title, and I really like how this one fits. How their romantic love was like a ghost in their lives - not discussed, but felt between the both of them, and after she's gone, she becomes a ghost in his life.

...

Mike woke up to the smell of pancakes. 

Typically, mornings were his least favorite time of day. Seeing as he was the kind of person who didn’t sleep well, didn’t sleep at all, or found himself consumed by nightmares when he did - most mornings, he was too tired to comprehend the world around him. Mornings were a chaotic mess for him as he tried to pull himself back from the brink of insanity while operating his sluggish body with far too little energy until he got some coffee into his system. He came to resent mornings, as for him, they existed only in a dreadful haze. 

And he rarely ate a proper breakfast because of it. Most of the time, his ‘breakfast’ consisted of a large cup of coffee and a few pieces of Eggo waffle that he would snag off of Abby’s plate going out the door as he scolded her for not finishing it all. 

The second that the pleasant smell of freshly cooked food reached his nose, his stomach growled. 

Through the sleepy fog of his brain, hearing voices - multiple voices - coming from down the hallway, he realized that it wasn’t just Abby and some muffled cartoon characters from the TV. 

“Which one?” Abby posed, her voice bright and curious as ever. 

“Personally… I like the red sweater. It matches the red laces in the shoes you picked,” You replied, raising your voice slightly to be heard over the sizzling of the pan. 

You were helping her pick out her clothes. Abby would have never wanted Mike’s help on the subject. So often she scoffed at him if he suggested that he could help her put her hair in a ponytail or if he told her that she should put on a jacket if it was cold outside. But she asked you for your advice about clothes because she admired you. She thought you were pretty, as she had told Mike on multiple occasions (not so subtly hinting that he should date you). 

Mike heard footsteps thundering down the hallway as Abby rushed to her room to get dressed, likely carting along the clothes you had helped to pick. He distantly wondered how you had gotten into the house before he was even awake. 

And then, he remembered - a few weeks ago, he had given you a key to his place. 

It was something that had come after he had accidentally locked his own set of keys in the car, his mind jumbled and forgetful after not having much sleep the night before. And with the evening ticking on and the takeout you had picked up for the three of you quickly getting cold in your hands (everyone eager to simply get into the house and eat) - Mike had been hit with the realization that any solutions to unlock the car - the spare key, a metal coat hanger, a phone to call a mechanic - were all locked in the house. 

So he had hoisted Abby in through her bedroom window (after scolding her for not locking it) and gotten her to unlock the front door. And shortly after that, he had given you a house key, because generally, you were better with things like that. 

You were much more organized - your mind a clear, calm palace compared to the chaos that Mike often found himself swamped in. You were someone who worked incredibly well under stress, and that was why Mike valued you so much in his life. Right from a childhood where the two of you had pulled pranks together and he had been copying your homework, to the time he had leaned on you during the initial stress of Garett’s disappearance - up until now. When he was a messy, disorganized adult who still needed you far more than he was ever willing to admit. 

It was just one of the many reasons he admired you so much. You took care of him in ways he couldn’t even put into words. 

He smiled to himself as he heard more of your chatter with Abby. Previously, he had remarked that the key was for ‘emergencies only’ - but he couldn’t bring himself to care all too much about the breach of that rule as he tumbled out of bed. Especially when the smell of bacon also reached his nose as he walked to the bathroom. 

It was when he was pulling on his pants that he glanced at the clock and realized he was already running on the late side. Not too late yet, but he had to put some urgency in his step. He had somehow forgotten to set his alarm, today of all days, when he would be meeting with a career counselor after the disastrous incident that got him fired from the mall. 

He rushed down the hallway struggling with his tie, bringing his usual air of chaos with him. His heart instantly warmed at the sight of you and Abby - you had her sitting at the table, somehow so much more polite and cooperative for you, with a glass of juice beside her plate while you scooped freshly made pancakes onto it. 

“You know, usually when most people break and enter, they don’t make breakfast,” Mike commented, his voice cool and jovial as he grew increasingly frustrated with his tie. 

He thought he was forming the knot correctly, but it kept falling loose in his hands, causing a deep crease across his brows as he frowned at the fabric. 

You giggled at this - both at his words and at his obvious struggle. You put the pan on the counter as you walked toward him, leaving Abby to pick up the bottle of syrup and begin thoroughly drowning her pancakes while you weren’t looking. You knocked Mike’s hands away in that wordless kind of care and began calmly tying his tie. 

“Well, I considered going the traditional route, but there’s nothing worth stealing here.” You remarked, playing off the banter that was only built between the two of you after years of friendship. “Plus, The Breakfast Burglar has such a nice ring to it.” 

“That makes it sound like you steal people’s breakfast.” Abby giggled. 

“I would, if certain little girls didn’t drown their pancakes in syrup.” You replied, not bothering to look over your shoulder at her to know what she was doing. “That’s enough, Abs.” 

She rolled her eyes harshly at this, but put the bottle of syrup down and picked up her knife and fork. 

Mike grinned widely at this. You were more like a mom to her than their own mother ever was. And the fact that you knew her so well and took care of her without question always brought him joy. 

His smile only widened when you smoothed a warm hand down the front of his chest, and he looked down to see a perfectly neat knot in the front of his tie. He felt a tingling swarm of butterflies in his stomach at your touch - something that threatened to spread through him and turn him into a dizzy, lovesick fool. Urgently, he needed to distract himself with something else. 

His eyes shifted over to the side table, and he realized that his keys weren’t where he usually threw them down when he got home. 

“Have you seen my-?” 

Once again, you were two steps ahead of him. More organized than him. 

“Keys.” You said, turning around to the counter and holding the key ring up on your fingers. “Your resume, formatted and printed.” You held up a folder that contained this as well. “Your wallet, and breakfast burrito.” 

You gathered up his wallet and a warm bundle wrapped in tinfoil - his breakfast. The small notion of caring, the fact that you thought ahead to make something he could eat while rushing out the door - it caused that dangerous tingle to overtake his stomach once again. As you crossed the room and placed all the items in his hands, he had the intense urge to lean over and kiss you - he knew the domesticity was crippling. 

You had been his best friend for years, you had helped him take care of Abby for as long as the little girl could remember. You felt more like a wife to him than anybody else ever would. 

And yet, you had absolutely no clue how he felt about you. It would have felt like the most natural thing in the world for him to lean over and kiss you goodbye before leaving - just like a husband would do with his wife. But the two of you weren’t married. You weren’t even dating. You took care of him because you were his best friend. Because you had always taken care of him the way a best friend should. 

“What would I do without you?” He said, knowing that the pure fondness in his voice could have easily given him away - if he didn’t talk to you like that all the time. 

“Hmm… probably run around naked and starving,” You chuckled, shrugging as you walked back over to Abby and sat down beside her at the table. “Now get going. I’ll take Abby to school.” 

“Have a good day, Abs.” Mike said, wishing his sister well - only to receive a mindless nod in reply before she went back to chatting with you about something, excitedly telling you a story involving one of her imaginary friends while you watched her with absolutely rapt attention. 

He moved toward the door, but he found himself caught up in the sight of you. You were a hero in their little world as you rushed to save one of Abby’s drawings from some syrup that dripped off her plate. When you complimented the picture, she glowed with a smile he hadn’t seen in days. 

That was a huge part of it, too. The love he felt for you that grew more agonizing each day. You brought out all the best parts of Abby, as well as keeping Mike himself from going truly insane. 

For a single moment, he wondered if he should tell you. He wondered if he should just blurt out the words before running out the door, leaving you to simmer in it. Giving you time to think about it - to yell at him about it later. 

It hovered on his tongue. 

I love you. I’ve been in love with you for years. 

But when you looked over and saw him still standing by the door, he locked eyes with you, and suddenly it was gone again, swallowed up inside of him like a nasty ache that would live there forever. 

“Go, Mike! You’re gonna be late!” You said, your voice edging with casual laughter. 

You picked up one of the couch cushions and swatted him with it as you walked by to get Abby a paper towel from the kitchen. 

No. He would tell you some other time. 

Perhaps he wouldn’t work up the courage to tell you at all. 

… 

He was going to die. He was going to be killed. 

And he wasn’t going to get the chance to tell you that he was in love with you. 

Strangely enough, that was the one thing Mike was thinking about as he laid on the cold, dirty floor of Freddy Fazbear’s condemned pizzeria. His stomach burned with searing pain as he received another kick from the large, intimidating monster that he knew only as the Yellow Rabbit. 

He was going to die. He wouldn’t get to tell you how he felt. He would never get to see you ever again. 

He was going to save Abby. He was going to make sure that she got out of here, escaped somehow. And you would take care of her. That thought was a singular comfort to him as he felt one of his ribs crack from the metal (poorly disguised by the foam and fabric around the edges of the suit) colliding with his torso.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” The Rabbit mocked him. “I killed your brother, now I get to kill you. Symmetry, my friend!” 

“Get away from him!” 

Mike almost thought that the intense pain had caused him to hallucinate, or that he had hit his head on the floor hard when he had been thrown down - it couldn’t actually be you.

But he heard your voice, fierce and fiery as ever, defending him as you had so many times before. He struggled to get his head up to look, but he caught a glimpse of the Yellow Rabbit as the strange animal collapsed. 

You had picked up one of the chairs, and brought it down over the Rabbit’s head, perfectly imitating something that would have been on Monday Night Raw. Except this was pure wood, not a collapsing chair, and all the pieces that splintered and fell in front of Mike as the Rabbit collapsed were because of the pure force of your hit. The fury of which you defended him and his life. 

“Y/N!” Abby yelled your name from across the room. 

She rushed into your arms as you stepped over the Rabbit’s prone body, and you swept her into a tight hug. 

“Are you okay? Are you hurt? What’s going on?” You rushed to ask, brushing her hair out of her face to inspect for any injuries. 

“I’m fine.” Abby told you. “Mike-” She then turned to her brother, frantic, and pulled away from you to fall to her knees by his side. 

“Mike, what the hell is going on?” You asked, on your knees at his side just as quickly. 

You turned him over on his back, inspecting him for injuries now - definitely not liking what you found. 

Abby held his hand and he grasped it right back, his head still dizzy from the thorough ass-kicking he had just experienced. 

You gasped when you saw blood leaking through his shirt. He grunted in pain when you pressed your hand into the wound, clearly trying to lessen that bleeding. 

“What - what are you doing here?” He croaked out. 

As much as he was thankful for you swooping in and saving him, he wished that you were safe somewhere else. Anywhere but here. 

“Abby left her jacket in my car, and when I went to return it, I saw your Aunt Jane passed out on the floor, and - and, I just had a bad feeling.” You rushed to explain. “Somehow, I figured you’d be here.” 

Mike hadn’t exactly told you the details of what was going on. 

As close as the two of you were, he wasn’t sure if you would be entirely receptive to the concept of Abby being ‘friends’ with robots that were controlled by ghost children, and Mike somehow feeling connected to his own missing… dead brother by being in this place. He had simply told you that his new job was a night shift at a creepy old abandoned pizza place. 

But of course, you were two steps ahead of him. As always. 

You pulled back your hand to inspect the bleeding, and Mike groaned again. 

“Should I call an ambulance?” You asked, and Mike shook his head furiously. 

“No, we have to-” 

We have to leave. You have to leave. You have to get Abby out of here, to safety. 

All of those words dissolved on his tongue as he watched with utter shock. He wanted to scream as a big yellow hand clasped onto your shoulder from behind, and soon, a pair of large rabbit ears rose up from the floor. 

He wasn’t down for the count. 

Before he could speak, before he could move, Mike’s throat became choked as he saw your expression shift from the kind concern that you had worn for him many times - to pain. A brutal shock of your own. 

The Rabbit had shoved his knife into your back. 

A bright pool of red began to form in the middle of your shirt as the tip of the knife just barely poked through the center of your chest. 

“No!” Mike shouted, rushing to sit up despite the pain screaming in his body. 

He put a shaking hand to the middle of your chest as though it mattered, as though he could save you from this. He hated how warm your blood felt underneath his fingers. 

Abby let out a scream beside him. Distantly, in the back of his mind, he felt a pang of guilt that she had to see this. That she would spend the rest of her life trying to get over this. 

“It hurts, doesn’t it?” The Rabbit mocked him. “It always hurts more when you love them!”  

The Rabbit let out a brutal laugh and then yanked his knife from your back, and you released a sharp breath as the Rabbit shoved you toward Mike, causing you to collapse into his lap in a bloody heap. 

Somewhere far away, in another world, Mike heard Vanessa shouting from the doorway. Maybe he felt some sense of relief, thinking she would shoot the Rabbit down and this would all be over. But as the Rabbit’s attention was drawn away from him, he turned to where you were draped across his lap, the small pool of red on your shirt now soaked into a large puddle as you sputtered and some of that harsh bright red blood came out the corner of your lips. 

“Mike-” You choked out, reaching for him. 

“Tell me what to do,” Mike choked out. 

His mind was miserably blank. He felt your fingers clutching at his bicep, like he held the key to saving you, like he could restore your life - but his mind was screaming and his chest collapsed in on itself. 

You were always the one that guided him. He didn’t have an idea if you didn’t plant it in his head first. 

“Y/N,” Abby sobbed. 

“It-it’s okay.” You told her, struggling, gurgling, choking on your own blood. You took your grip off Mike, extending the hand weakly to her, and she took it. “It’s g-gonna be okay.” 

She let out another harsh sob, and Mike felt his lungs fill with stone. 

“Tell me what to do,” He said desperately, not realizing how thick his own voice was, how close he was to breaking down. He ran a trembling hand over your face, brushing away some stray hairs - he hated how cold you felt to his touch. “Please, tell me what to do.” 

He thought you might suggest some first aid. An ambulance. Tell him where your car was so he could carry you there, cart you away, get you to safety. 

“You-re g-gonna take c-care of her-r.” You told him, shifting your eyes distinctly from him toward Abby, giving her hand a squeeze. “You’re gon-na m-make it ok-ay.” 

“Y/N.” Abby cried, thick tears spilling down her cheeks. 

“Abby. You’re gonna b-be s-strong.” You grinned at her - your teeth were covered in blood, and it looked as menacing as it did fond. “You’re g-gonna be good for-r M-Mike, right? My little a-artist.” 

Abby nodded, more tears leaking from her eyes. 

And then, with some gears turning in her head, these words seemingly having triggered some line of thought, she looked up and spotted something across the room. She muttered something about the drawings and leapt up before Mike could stop her. He didn’t have the strength to chase her - he only hoped that she was leaving, escaping while the others were distracted. 

When he looked back down at you, your face was falling more limp, and your shirt was somehow even more soaked in blood. His jeans were wet, and he couldn’t even process why. He pressed a hand to the front of your shirt, trying to cover the wound as you had done with him - his muscles shook even harder when blood gushed out between his fingers and seemed to leak from you harder, as if to spite him. 

“Y/N,” He sobbed, leaning down. He cradled the back of your head and touched your forehead against his own. 

For a moment, he dreamed about putting his lips against your own and bringing you back to life with a kiss. Like some stupid fairytale. 

“Y/N, I-” 

I love you. 

“I - I know.” You croaked quietly, cutting him off. “D-don’t w-waste it on me now-w.” 

He felt the puff of your last breath as it expelled out against his cheek - he felt you go completely limp in his arms. 

“No-” He choked the word off in his throat, swallowing down sobs. 

No. 

He held you tighter against him, and feeling how cold you were, he let out a shuddering howl of a sob. He clasped your lifeless body against his chest - somehow believing that he could use the power of his grief to inject more life back into you. 

The rest of it was a blur. The deadly snap of springlocks, Vanessa shouting at him to abandon you - to abandon your body as the building collapsed in on itself. 

Mike didn’t truly break down until he was scrubbing his blood off your face in the bathroom sink that night. Seeing the red washing down the drain and knowing that it was the last traces of your life he was washing away - that was what truly did it. He collapsed onto the floor and stayed there for hours, sobbing more than he breathed, unable to move. 

When his cries finally died down, Abby slowly crept in and asked him how he was feeling. He lied, telling her that he was feeling fine. She raised up a shy hand, offering him one of your sweaters that you had accidentally left on their couch a few days prior. 

He thanked her and then finally peeled himself off the floor. He tried to make pancakes and Abby remarked that they weren’t as good as yours. It felt impossible, but her words made him smile. It was a small, dull smile - but it was a smile, nonetheless. 

A few days later, when he finally fell asleep for the first time after you had died in his arms, it was with that sweater wrapped around his pillow, wafting your faded smell into his nostrils. It was the first time in years that he didn’t dream about Garett. The dream he had about you was just as haunting.

...

A/N: Also, I don't know if Afton's knife would actually be long enough to go through someone's back and pierce out the front of their chest but - one, it's a cool imagery, and two, the knife looks pretty large when compared to the scale of the Springtrap suit hands. Anyway, I don't actually care all too much if it's accurate or not, I had fun writing this lmao.

[familiarscars]

Lost In Control | Bad Omens | CHAPTER 16

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

⋆ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. Bad Omens X ex-girlfriend and singer!Reader.

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. You and Noah had a difficult ending, but you still need to support each other for the band.

⋆ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒). melancholy, ex-boyfriends, difficult relationships, alcohol abuse, swearing, drug addiction, violence.

It's okay to not agree with the characters' attitudes during the fic. It's good to remember that the story is fiction from the author's sick mind, and of course they will make dubious decisions according to my fantasies. Nothing is done to be compared to reality.

Los Angeles, February 12, 2020

A bigger house was all you two needed.

After stepping inside with your right foot first and staying inseparable, you both surveyed the empty room filled with nothing but hundreds of stacked cardboard boxes. You let out a simultaneous sigh, clapping your hands together.

You and Noah had refused any kind of help, deciding you could handle the unpacking and organizing on your own. You rolled up your sleeves, hit play on a random song, and ran together to open the windows, letting light flood the room. Any solo task easily became a duo mission when he wanted to be involved, even in moments where you were just holding a box.

“Your space in the wardrobe is tiny!” you exclaimed, hands on your hips and biting your lip. Noah stood beside you, tilting his head as he stared at what would be his new reality from now on. “Maybe I shouldn’t have brought so many clothes.”

“It makes me think I just don’t buy enough clothes,” he said with a shrug, scratching his head with the tip of a screwdriver.

“You still wear the pants you had on our first date, so yes!” you teased, nudging him with your elbow.

“They’re excellent pants, okay?”

“Ripped in the butt.”

“That’s what makes them lucky pants!” he declared, setting the screwdriver aside and threatening to come toward you.

Barefoot and bothered by the texture of the dust on the floor, you stepped back and started running from him, hearing the sound of heavy footsteps, laughter, and swearing trailing behind. You ran down the upstairs hallway, descended the stairs, and he slid straight down the banister, stopping behind a pillar where you both stared at each other, breathless.

“Lucky pants, huh?” you teased.

“I wore them the day I saw you, and the next time I did, you were at the bar again. Ever since, they’ve been my lucky pants.”

You didn’t believe in those things, but he did, so you simply went along.

“I would’ve been there anyway,” you said softly, only seeing half his face around the plaster structure.

“But I’d rather believe it was luck because I never had any before.”

Neither did you.

Laughter echoed through the house as you both tried to decipher a manual while assembling a nightstand. Pieces were scattered all over the hallway floor, none of them making sense, and you couldn’t help but giggle every time you saw his brow furrow in frustration at the incomprehensible instructions.

“Uh, maybe furniture assembly isn’t our talent…” you pouted, holding up a piece that was obviously glued wrong. “Yeah, definitely not.”

“You give up too easily!”

“Or… I think we should call someone who actually knows what they’re doing.” You shrugged while Noah shook his head in defiance.

“No!” he replied confidently, snatching the piece from your hand. “Of course I can do this myself!”

“Alright then, Mr. I-Can-Do-It-All-On-My-Own. Since I’m sure we won’t have a nightstand, I’ll start looking up new models online.”

“HEY!” he shot back indignantly as you got up from the floor and placed a kiss on the tip of his nose.

Noah smiled and immediately dropped the furniture piece beside him, grabbing you by the legs until you tumbled into his lap. Your faces collided, close enough to feel his breath brushing against your skin. You watched as he nestled into your hand, his eyes closing as you stroked his flushed cheeks, warm from the house’s temperature. His lips met yours slowly, and like a puzzle designed to fit perfectly without a single missing piece, the kiss still felt as if it were the very first time.

“Thank you for this,” you whispered softly against his lips, your foreheads pressed together.

“For what exactly?”

"For giving me a home."

He smiled, brushing the tips of your noses together, and grabbed the side of your face with that usual strength of someone who fears losing what they hold between their fingers. His voice was always soft when he needed to assure you that he was there. You never doubted it, but he made a point of repeating it so you would never forget.

How much he loved you.

"You are my life, little storm, and I only knew the peace of a home I wanted to stay in when I laid my eyes on you," he said softly, swallowing a bit. "I live for you."

I live for you.

That you had never felt so loved since your paths crossed was an undeniable fact, but sometimes you were afraid.

Noah seemed as dependent on you as he was on air to live, and there wasn’t a single moment in your life when he wasn’t by your side. When that didn’t happen, he seemed lost, anxious, restless, as if something were missing from his pocket. It was as if, over the years, he had unlearned how to survive in your absence.

But you found it worrying because you knew you weren’t the best home. Your walls were fragile, your roof was glass; there were no doors or windows to protect him from a possible earthquake in the future. You couldn’t control your own structure and feared for yourself every day but feared even more for him because you knew he would never endure the shock of dealing with the rubble of the place where he had lived.

"I DID IT!" he said excitedly, lifting a single leg of the piece of furniture he had managed to screw together just so you could see it from behind the counter. "Look! Look!"

"Wow!" you feigned surprise, bursting into laughter soon after. "We’re doing so well that I think we’ll have a nightstand by the end of the month!"

"You’re pathetic!" Noah grumbled, flipping you off before turning his attention back to the parts on the floor.

Your smile slowly faded as the smell of bacon filled your nostrils, and the sound of it sizzling in the frying pan formed a backdrop to your thoughts.

You loved him like you had never loved anything in your entire existence. If love could be compared to a painful, visceral feeling, you didn’t care, but that’s exactly how you felt. Your whole body burned in his presence, and every unhealed wound seemed to sear with the intensity of the rising temperature. Noah radiated life; he was good and honest. He didn’t reek of impurity; he didn’t carry a heavy shadow. He had never known anything truly bad in the world; he still believed in justice.

You never wanted a moment like this to break. You never wanted anything to pierce the reality you had created for yourselves.

You never wanted him to know what it was like to be you, and that’s why you protected him.

About to perform at another intimate show, you leaned your head against the mirror in the bathroom after wiping away another line from the sink. From that distance backstage, you could hear the crowd. Luckily, you weren’t feeling so down today, maybe thanks to all the serotonin injections you’d taken in the morning. That didn’t guarantee enough strength to stay sober, especially when being clear-headed made you overthink.

You hated overthinking.

As you left the bathroom, you checked the mirror to see if your makeup and outfit were in place and sighed deeply, noting it was enough. Your fingers swiped another layer of gloss over your lips, and as you set the closed tube on the vanity, you could hear what sounded like a conversation between two people outside.

The dressing room walls were thin, and pressing your face against the material, you could make out Gerard’s agitated voice talking to another guy. Slowly, you slid your fingernail into the crack of the door and opened it just enough to see the scene outside. He was running his fingers through his hair, red-faced and furious, while the other man stood impassively with his arms crossed.

"How can you spring this on me at the last minute?" he shouted. "You know I don’t let merchandise sit around collecting dust! I move it, and now I’m already late!"

Merchandise? Your eyebrow immediately shot up.

"There’s not much I can do for you, man. I’m just the messenger," the other guy shrugged, his nonchalant response only making the vein in Gerard’s neck bulge.

You nearly lost your balance in surprise when Gerard lunged at the guy, grabbing him by the collar and pulling their faces close.

"Then you’re going to tell your boss that I want that merchandise in my hands by the end of the day because if I get called out by the people above me, your boss will be in for three times the trouble. Got it?"

The guy’s eyes widened as he met Gerard’s gaze, swallowing hard before being slowly released back onto the ground. You watched as he nodded and walked away, turning his back on Gerard, who adjusted his posture and took a deep breath as if slipping into another persona.

"Wow!" Applause erupted from you as Gerard turned, his expression hardening upon seeing you leaning against the dressing room door.

"I hope you’re ready to go on stage."

Of course, he’d play dumb as he approached you slowly, sly as an animal stalking its prey. But you were so used to dealing with him that you flashed the most challenging smile, biting your lips between your teeth.

"Fascinating!" you repeated, sarcasm dripping from your voice as you smirked provocatively. "Don’t worry, Gerard. I’m not surprised. Just impressed by how little effort you put into hiding your little secret. It’s almost as if you wanted someone to find out, and how lucky it was me, huh? We’re already used to keeping secrets for each other."

He furrowed his brow, trying to stay calm, but the twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed his irritation. Gerard was clever, but he wasn’t used to being confronted like this, especially by someone like you.

"You’re delusional," he shot back, crossing his arms and leaning against the chair in a forced attempt to appear relaxed. "I don’t know where you get these ideas, but I wouldn’t doubt you’re high as the good-for-nothing liar you are!"

"Am I?" you tilted your head as if genuinely intrigued. "If it were just about the drugs, I might let it slide. After all, what are a few kilos of powder circulating between musicians and executives? But when you start messing with our contracts, skimming money, and using our image as a front, that’s when it gets personal."

Gerard scoffed, but the disdain on his face couldn’t hide the shadow of worry now gleaming in his eyes.

"You don’t have any proof."

"Don’t I?" you raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying his defensive tone. "The question, Gerard, isn’t whether I have proof. It’s that I know. And that should be enough for you to start worrying."

You took a step forward, the tension in the air growing even more palpable.

"I know you're using our name to launder your dirty money. I know you couldn't care less about what happens to the band as long as the numbers in your ledger look good at the end of the month. And I know you think no one will dare to confront you just because you have dangerous friends."

He narrowed his eyes, clearly annoyed by the direction of the conversation.

"You think you can threaten me when you live in a glass house?" he asked, his voice low and dripping with venom. "Your little boyfriend has no idea that you stick your nose into a line every thirty minutes, all on my dime! You have a terrible reputation—it wouldn’t take much for people to buy the story that you're my accomplice in all of this, using your mediocre career as a front. Who do you think they'll believe? The violent singer who assaults paparazzi and gets on stage high or the exemplary businessman with a spotless record?"

He genuinely believed his words might rattle you, but instead, you just rolled your eyes. You couldn’t care less about your reputation.

"Gerard..." you replied, a cold smile curling your lips. "I don’t need to threaten you. I just need to keep doing what I do best: keeping you in my grasp, constantly unsettled about the moment I might open my mouth. In the meantime, you should start wondering how much longer you have before it all comes crashing down."

"You have no idea what I’m capable of if you keep insisting on crossing me."

"I couldn’t be more excited to find out."

You turned your back on him, letting the weight of your words linger in the air, and walked out of the hallway without looking back, knowing you had planted a seed of unease that Gerard wouldn’t be able to ignore.

And you? Well, you were definiteuly screwed.

⭑ @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard ; @iluvmewwwww75 ; @anarchydomainglory ; @foliosgirl ; @lma1986 ; @chey-h ; @supersquirrel1996 ; @zozaline ; @just-randomm-stuff

[heartsteellerr]

How they spend valentines with you

Content; 100% fluff, all characters are written romantically, OOC, some characters are written short based on me not knowing how to type/write for them Warnings; GN reader Characters; EVERYONE (Heartsteel, KDA, True Damage)

Indoor dates; Aphelios, Akali, Senna, Yasuo

They choose to spend their valentines day with you indoors; either because they simply prefer it that way, or just want to spend it alone with you ⎯ away from the eyes of onlookers who are desperate for gossip.

Aphelios and Yasuo are introverts at heart, so being away from people is like a blessing to them both. How they'd choose to spend the day with you depends on the current mood they're feeling, for example: wanting to do something that doesn't require much work like watching a movie is one of the go-to's he'd do for valentines. Or on the more rarer occasions where he's wanting to feel genuine and sincere, he'd take some time off idol work to compose a personal song for you ⎯ one that isn't technically sung by him (most likely asked one of their members to sing in his steed) but can be used for karaoke, or background music during dinner.

Akali and Senna are the same as the other two ⎯ both being introverted but also not really? In the pre-tense of it she simply has a hard time getting along with people but would put up some sort of effort when it comes to you. However on this day, she'd much prefer to spend it alone with you. The list on what you would do with her varies on the basics of what most couples do on this day: movies, snacks, dinner, etc. I feel like in a way, Akali would want to spend valentines like how regular couples would ⎯ setting aside her role as an idol.

Outdoor dates; Kayn, Sett, K'Sante, Evelynn, Kai'Sa, Ekko

Kayn and K'sante are the types who'd want to make this day as memorable as he can for you; spending however much money he can offer to spoil you for the whole day. Though I can only imagine for Kayn he'd chooses to spend his money on bringing you to a concert that both you and him have been waiting to attend, whereas for K'Sante he's the type that'll carry all the bags you've bought and take you to a fancy restaurant to dine in.

^ You can also say this would be something Evelynn would also do for you, in terms of taking you out and spoiling you, then bringing you somewhere fancy. She has the power to do so, so why not use it to her advantage, no? At the end of it all you'd both be sitting in a high view building, watching as the city lights coat the streets before calling it a night with sweet kisses and longing words to each other.

^^ Kai'sa somewhat doing the same as what Kayn did, however, instead of just attending 'a' concert ⎯ she'd be giving you tickets to hers and her group's concert instead (i'm sorry idrk how to write for her)

Sett on the other hand is taking you on a walk. Yes, a walk. Varying between places like parks or a walk down the streets ⎯ to taking you on a hiking trip to the mountains. Of course he isn't gonna force you to keep climbing when you're getting tired, but instead of taking a break by sitting down somewhere, he'd continue the walk with you on his back or shoulders. To him it's a win-win situation: You get to rest for a bit, while he continues to walk and show you the amazing view of the place AND technically speaking, this would count as a workout for him, right? I will say at the end of it all, he'd have at least one or two things prepared when the walk is over (your gift).

Ekko is a man who's lived in the street since he was a kid; dealing with hardships and whatnot through out his life already, he'd hope to at least spend one of these days, this day in particular, where he can spend money on you. That's his wish, and with the amount he earns as a Idol ⎯ well, i guess you can say a part of his wish did come true.

A mix between both; Ezreal, Yone, Ahri, Qiyana

In the case of becoming hit stars, and especially being the fans' faves; Ezreal and Yone's schedule are so packed, they have to plan their valentines day to be both indoors and outdoors. For Yone it'd be indoors > outdoors, starting his valetines indoors first because there were still some things he needed to check over before going outdoors with you to spend the rest of your valentines day with him. Ezreal's valentines, however, started off with an outdoor date in mind but then switched to indoors the moment fans caught sight of him and he had to cancel it all ⎯ making him somewhat depressed for the most part because he tried so hard to make this day perfect for you both, but seeing as it was still a day you can spend together, outdoors or not, he's happy as long as he's with you.

^ The same can be said for Ahri, she has plenty of fans who'd want to talk and take pictures of her when she's outside so the outdoor date she had in mind suddenly turned indoor the moment fans caught wind of her activities.

^ As for Qiyana, it'd be similar to Yone but not exactly ⎯ she'd want to spend the day resting a bit longer in bed with you during the start of the day and then spend the rest outdoors; via going to a club or a bar.

[pillowbugs]

so uh. that poto au i did just over a week ago.

was playing around with some ships to figure out who would fit the roles of the other characters, and landed on airplaneshipping for christine and raoul. preferably ignore all the plot that would have to happen to lead to this point. (the scene where the phantom shoots fireballs, except in the pokémon universe it's a full on battle against the phantom and his chandelure. for an added bonus, look up the name of the 'song' sung during this part of the musical.)

unmasked ver. (additional design notes under cut)

elesa:

christine's dress in this scene is light blue, which is a colour that is indeed present in elesa's design (her bw2 outfit moreso). elesa not wearing any yellow felt wrong though, which is why the layers underneath are yellow-tinted.

went with her bw1 hair colour because christine was blonde in the original book.

her cloak is mostly based off her bw2 jacket in shape; it's black with a red clasp, which makes it not only similar to the cloak donned by christine in the musical but also retains the same idea of the cloak being a visual representation of the phantom's (who wears mostly black) hold over them. (+ the other colour ingo is most associated with is red.)

however, because of the lighting, said cloak appears yellow on the side closer to skyla - more similar to her canon design, and being close to skyla in a way rids her of the darkness.

she gets to change her hairstyle as a treat.

skyla:

it wasn't common for women to wear waistcoats at the time (1900s), but sapphics in history quite famously fucked with a lot of gender norms.

actually both of these lovebirds are blue now. sets up a colour contrast between the lighter, friendlier blues of the couple and the darkness and reds of the phantom. (blue = friend and red = foe like it's fire emblem)

the way swanna is placed is intentional, to set up a more angelic imagery mirroring the phantom's darker version (more on that in a bit).

both women wear matching white roses in their hair. something something flower symbolism. but skyla does also have feathers in her hair, for obvious reasons.

swoobat because hearts :D

ingo:

was debating on whether to make him actually more deformed in this au, but didn't really feel in the mood to sit down and design it in detail for this piece.

there isn't much i can say about his outfit design given it's literally just mashing his usual uniform together with his butler alt from masters. though upon actually looking up the phantom's outfit, the end result is actually surprisingly close. not surprising given both wear victorian suits and primarily wear black.

my original concept for the au was that he still works with the subway, he just does it from the shadows instead of being a public figure - hence he still wears a train conductor's hat. though since the battle subway isn't a thing (or at least not in the form we know it) he doesn't have its logo.

his cloak is intentionally flared up in this scene, for a few reasons: 1) it looks cool, 2) it resembles gliscor (albeit it isn't present here) and 3) mirrors skyla with a darker angelic imagery - the original musical had the whole "angel of music / death" thing.

i actually went through quite a few variations of his mask before settling on this one, and even then i'm not entirely satisfied with it.

version 1: exactly the same as the one used in most advertising for the musical - decently terrifying, but considering ingo's main 'issue' is his mouth, which this (and the one actually used within the musical) doesn't cover, this would be completely useless aside from probably hiding his identity and especially his resemblance to emmet.

version 2: leaned more into the angle of trying to alter his expression, particularly to be smiling instead - to be more similar to his brother. also suitably unsettling, but this specific style wouldn't work if you looked at him from any angle besides this one though. also, from this angle, because his actual mouth is obscured, i was worried he would actually be mistaken for emmet instead (given generally fandom tends to make emmet the unhinged one - let ingo have some fun too, guys).

version 3, the one i went with: has patterns at the cheeks simulating the edges of a smile (and also has the black-on-white contrast); his actual mouth is hidden but visible through the cloth.

why is there a litwick on the gravestone? good question!

in all honesty, this was part me drawing blorbos into an au and part me conceptualising what the pokémon universe version of POTO would look like.

[fruitypixel]

Man, I think I might be the only one saying this: most of the LOV is nothing but a waste. Their potential to show that they are victims of hero society? Its there, but as the series goes on, they become nothing more than the bad guys turned terrorists.

Were they captured and repented for their crimes? Nope, aside from Spinner, Dabi, and...maybe Mr. Compress? Most of them died without facing the consequences. (Not counting Magne because she died early on)

Shigeraki loses his autonomy as a character during the final fight and gets replaced with AFO. Not only that, but AFO was manipulating his life from the start. Really dude? So what we saw from Shigeraki's downfall was all because of AFO? Really dude? What a way to kill off any sentiment I had for Shigeraki.

Toga...I don't feel bad for this girl. She shows no remorse for the shit she has done yet wants other people to understand her "love?" Her love is not only twisted as fuck, but wrong on so many levels! You don't get to have a break down because both Midoriya and Uraraka disagree with you! Stop playing victim!

Spinner was okay up until the very end. He said Shigeraki was his hero and even praising him. Dude, you were second-guessing yourself multiple times while in league, yet you stayed out of loyalty. He should have bailed when he had the chance, or even better, acknowledged what he has done. But nope! Let's make him sing songs about Shigeraki and have him blame Izuku for killing his "hero." Pathetic.

Dabi was cool, up until the Paranormal Liberation arc. There, he turned into a psychopathic man child with daddy issues. The creator was sooo close with Dabi, he even made Dabi expose his father's crimes to the public. Why did he have to lose his character as a result of his exposure? Was it really that hard to keep him collected? Good god.

The only LOV villain that was well written in my eyes was Twice. I legitimately felt bad for the guy. His backstory, personality, and his motives struck a core with me. Just wanting to be accepted for who I am and wanting to be useful to others, it's so damn relatable. Truly a shame that he was killed.

What a damn waste of antagonists to such a fun series.

[astoryisaloveaffair]

Fix You - Chapter 16 - Genesis

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Fem!Reader

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Read on A03

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Chapter Summary: 🤷‍♀️

Word Count: 4K

Rating: Explicit

Chapter Warnings: cussing, graphic violence, mentions of sex. I'm not giving more warnings than that, sorry.

A/N: Hey all. First I want to say I'm sorry. I literally had no time or motivation to write this. I'm gonna be honest, this is a really tough chapter, and it was hard to get in this headspace. Suffering a recent heartbreak, things in this chapter are things I have thought also, and so it was really hard for me to voluntarily want to address that. I also started working in veterinary medicine, i do not have the spare time that I used to. We also recently adopted a puppy who we named Bucky! And if you read my earlier posts, you know that I was SA'd last January. All that to say, sorry I couldn't do this faster.

Also want to wish a happy birthday to @musings-of-a-rose, my beloved, my bestie, and my constant support. This is for you. Sorry it's not a happier chapter....

* If a character is speaking fully in Spanish, I will put “[ ]” around the dialogue. I speak pretty decent Spanish but not good enough for this

Suggested Songs: "Exile" Taylor Swift feat. Bon Iver, "I Love You" Billie Eilish, "Vampire" and "Logical" by Olivia Rodrigo, "The Night We Met" by Lord Huron and Phoebe Bridgers, "Genesis" by Grimes

You didn’t even flinch at the landing, which was rough, so that’s saying a lot. When the janky cargo door (which looked like at any time during the flight would be ripped right off) opens, you barely even lift your eyes from the floor. You felt heavy and hollow, somewhere suspended in between shock and just not giving a fuck anymore. The only thing you could still fell was the pinching in your heart. It was still broken.

At some point during the journey, the co-pilot had taken pity on you and untied your arms from behind your back and bound them in front of you instead. You hadn’t struggled. There was no point. Where would you go? Jump in the ocean? You weren’t that great of a swimmer and you loved sharks and everything but the open ocean is not where you are supposed to be.

You have no sense of space and time, so you have no actual clue where you are other than not the mainland. You’re dehydrated as fuck, groggy, your vision’s blurry and you’d figured out the sticky moisture on your face was your own blood. 

Because when you had suddenly blacked out it was because they’d hit you, and had absolutely no hesitation doing so. They did not care about you, they did not see you as a human being, they didn’t even bother strapping you into a seat so you had been sliding around the cargo bay the entire flight, bumping into everything. You were in deep danger, any hope that you would have some ransom protection had pretty much disintegrated. You had hoped that the boys wouldn’t come for you at first. Then you had hoped that they would, because if you’re ransom, even if at the very least you’d be alive until then, right? But “alive” doesn’t mean unharmed.

A shadow looms over you and it finally makes you look up, squinting to adjust your eyes to something so close, as well as the brightness of the sun. It feels like it takes you 10 whole minutes to process that you were being spoken to in English.

“Eh!” The man leaning over you snips, and when you simply blink in confusion and don’t answer, he slaps you lightly on both cheeks. You’re stunned enough to finally look at him, his oval face, beady eyes and unique sideburns seeming so familiar to you but quite frankly you wouldn’t trust yourself with recognizing even your dad at the moment, so you push that thought aside.

He kneels down in front of you. “You listen to me. We don’t want you. We want the money. This means if you don’t fucking piss me off, I might be nice and not kill you, you understand? Be a smart little girl, eh?.”

You nod, you probably should be feeling some sort of panic setting in but you don’t. Whatever. Who even cares anymore.

He takes your silence as submission. “Bueno.” He whispers, leaning down and grabbing you by the arm, lifting you until you are back on your feet. He tilts his head and steps to the side, revealing 5 additional men with AKs pointed straight at you. From behind, you feel the sharp tip of another poking your back, urging you forward and down the precarious ramp. The pilots.

You didn’t trust that they wouldn’t hurt you, but you knew you had no other choice. Trying to fight was asking for it, and once you step out of the hold and realize you were in the fucking jungle, there would be no sensical place to go even if you did get away.

You step out of the plane onto a rickety steel ramp that bounces as the footpad of your sandals touches it and shuffle slowly down it. You feel suffocated sandwiched between four men, your hands chafe where they are tied and you have been in the same positions for so long your whole body is sore. Every touch and movement hurt.

You stumble as the ramp ends but one of the men grabs your arm and yanks you so you don’t fall. It wasn’t kindness. It was a way to hurt you that he could get away with. The tiny dirt landing strip is almost canopied completely by the jungle trees, leaving large patches here and there where the plane flew through, not noticeable from far above. It looks like you’re walking to nothing, just a dirt road that ends right into the thick middle of the jungle, but you don’t stop at the edge. You push through.

It’s hot as shit and you felt sweat buildup in every crevice of your body, your thighs are rubbing raw from your asinine decision to wear short shorts to the fair, and you could feel a heat rash growing under your tits that you couldn’t even scratch because your hands are bound.

You walk for forever. You walk until the friction rash on your inner thighs turn to lesions. You haven't drank water in almost 48 hours and it feels like 150 degrees out, with full humidity. You’ve had to stop twice already to vomit from heat exhaustion and you still occasionally gag even though there’s nothing in your stomach to come up anymore. All the years that you did not appeal to insects are making up for it now, they’re all over you and you can’t walk 3 steps without one getting in your eye.  The jungle gets tighter and you can’t breathe because it’s pushing in on you almost as tight as the hands on your shoulders pushing you forward..

You start crying. At least, that is what you tell yourself as you whimper and sob as quietly as you can. You know you’re strong, but this is just beyond reason that any normal person could take. And when you think about how this is probably what life was all the time in Delta for the boys, you cry even harder because you feel guilty, that you have no right to complain.

Finally, after what feels like forever, the tightness of the jungle seems to loosen. More open. You notice some of the trees look more oddly arranged than others. As you get closer you realize they aren’t trees at all, but tents and dilapidated buildings built into the shadows of the trees.  The huge roots and overhanging canopy of the jungle transformed a bustling camp into what looks like a little village. At the entrance, a line of guards in jungle fatigues that were impossible to detect until you got right up to them. You hear someone speak above you, alerting you to a man up in the trees on a platform tucked between the branches. There was another in the tree on the opposite side. He calls to the man with the sideburns, saying something in Spanish you can’t interpret fast enough, but it’s jovial and they laugh, and it makes you feel like you’re going to go mentally insane. 

It’s like it’s not even serious to them. And it’s so serious to you.

You are pushed through the camp quickly, but not quick enough that you don’t see the insane amount of cocaine packages piled up in the makeshift buildings, sheds, and tents toward the back. Men were milling about checking them, moving them and glaring at you as you walked past.

You continue past the main camp, crossing over a bustling creek whose bridge was literally just planks of wood, but you noticed there were tire marks across them so you felt at least safe it could handle a car’s weight. Across the creek, an old stonework manor stood. You can tell at one time it must have been glorious, but the white stone-worked walls were dirty and crumbling in many places, the fountains out front had dried crusty palm fronds and dirt in them and looked like they hadn’t sprayed water since the 1980s.

It was still oddly beautiful. You thought about how this house came to be, what it might have looked like when it had been first built. A beautiful Caribbean sea mansion. A jungle that hadn’t closed in on it yet. Fountains spraying and colorful birds resting on the rooftops. But then you  realize that this place has probably always been used for what it is now. Someone like Carl Lehder probably lived here and ran an entire cartel within this very jungle. Maybe it was the same one, just run by someone else.

There was a shabbily made shack to the left of the manor with padlocks, piles of debris piled next to the door. You assume that’s where you would be taken, but you were instead led up the stairs to the manor proper. And as your eyes focus in on the ground while you were being guided to the mansion instead, you realize the heap of matter by the shack that you thought was some dying plantation was actually a crumpled human body. A boy looking not much older than 17, shot execution style in the head and left to rot.

Then smell hits you, your knees buckle and you vomit on the stonework stairs, a scream of shock and realization pierces the jungle, making the nearby tropical birds explode from the treetops. When the sicarios pick you up and carry you through the mansion door, you’re still screaming.

Eventually whoever was carrying you became fed up, and simply dropped you at the bottom of the stairs and dragged you up backwards by the armpits instead. You didn’t even feel the step edges hitting the small of your back all the way up, but you would later. 

You were tossed stricken and shivering on a disgusting, top-sheeted mattress on the floor in the corner of a room, your feet still bound together and your rope-bound hands looped through a radiator that was long enough only for you to lie down or shuffle over to a bucket for your business. Everything stank and you still had vomit on your chin so you curled up in a ball and slammed your eyes closed, hoping that in time the voices and smells and fear would give way to just simple numbness. You didn’t hear a female voice speaking to you for several seconds.

Your eyes snap open, skin pulled taut from dried unwiped tears,and you jolt upright to look in the direction of the voice. A woman who wasn’t even tied up was propped up against the adjoining wall, and as you take in her condition you could understand why they hadn’t even bothered. She wouldn’t have been able to run.

Her legs look..wrong, splaying at angles that shouldn’t be possible. They look like they could be broken, but you can’t tell for sure because she was wearing jeans that cover up most of her skin. The jeans were ripped in some places and stained with dark blood spots, the color turning brighter wherever her skin shows through the tears in the fabric. She’s missing several fingers on her left hand that had been burnt at the ends to cauterize, and her face was black and blue, swollen and smeared with more blood that seemed to be coming from her scalp somewhere. Her lips are pale and cracking and her eyes are glazed over and barely open. When she speaks, she already sounds like she is dead. 

She swallows and winces slightly in pain, then licks her cracked pale lips.“Is…my…her–my brother. Did you see him? Out there?” 

Your face scrunches in confusion, which actually hurts a little and you’re not sure from what specifically. Perhaps you look just as bad as the other girl. “Your–I—I don’t understand.”

She’s too exhausted to even be annoyed with you. “My brother. They took him from me days ago. They do not talk to me anymore. They don’t—need me anymore.” A single tear falls down her swollen cheek and you suddenly feel so much connection with this woman and how  incredibly fucking strong she is. Her eyes roll over to you, meeting yours for the first time. There are burst blood vessels in them. 

“I think that they killed him.”

Your lips part and you utter a shuddering breath as you connect the dots. There’s no point in sugar-coating it. You nod slowly. “I think so. But it’s not…recent.” You look away as her eyes slowly close, the additional tears she was holding back finally spilling over and cascading down her cheeks. 

“Bueno.” She says. “Then at least he is not suffering like me.” 

You both fall quiet and you look over her again. Her pants aren’t completely done up and her t shirt is ripped at the neckline, exposing a gashed shoulder. Almost like…

You start crying again, and you feel even worse about it this time because you have in front of you a woman who has been through much worse and is somehow NOT crying. You curl tighter into yourself to try and hide. 

But she simply asks. “Who are you?”

You swallow, raising your head up off your arms, quickly wiping the access tears off on your sleeve. It’s incredible how adrenaline and fear can sometimes make you the most clear-headed you’ve ever been. Your thoughts are swirling but you knew one thing for damn sure, if they didn’t know your name yet, you weren’t going to say it now. 

If I look forward I am lost. Focus on right now. Nothing else. It’s my best chance.

You know enough about trauma that compartmentalizing this moment is your best chance. You can’t think what will happen if you don’t escape, if you aren’t found, if they never come for you. You need to stay focused. You need to keep hope alive. You need to stay coherent, because if a chance pops up, you need to be able to think quickly.

“I’m no one.” You mumble. “Just happened to be dating the wrong person.”

She sniffs and looks away, but it’s muffled because her nose sounds congested. You don’t miss her tone though. “Mmmm. His new one then.”

You blink. “What?”

Her glazed over, discolored eyes snap back to yours. “Pope.” She spits. “Your man. Santia—”

“NO!” You cut her off with a shout, you know there is a guy who is in the area and you still don’t know how much these men do or do not know. “Don’t. Don’t give them names if they don’t already know it.”

“I don’t give a shit about Agent Garcia, or his friends, or anyone else, it’s their fault I am here and it’s their fault my brother is dead and..” She finally, finally starts to cry. “I told him I didn’t want to do it. They said they would let us go if we gave them what they wanted.”

“It was you.” You exhale with a shuddering breath. “They found us cause of you. You told them.” You shake your head, and for some reason you feel betrayed by this woman even though you’ve never met her.  “How could you?” 

“Because all I care about is my brother, do you understand?! I wish I’d never met him, Garcia, we would have just snuck away and no one would never seen us, but no, instead we listened to him and helped them steal from fucking Lorea, and now they found us and I knew they would, and YES, I gave them EVERYTHING because they said they’d let us go so long as they found you and–”

“Eh!” A voice trails in with a watchman you knew was hanging out somewhere in the hallway beyond. He slips through the doorway, a smaller man you were not expecting from that voice, and leans against the deteriorating door frame. He crosses his arms and his legs and it makes the handgun on his hip jut out prominently from his skinny hips. “No talking to each other.” His voice is silky and the words all slide together so it sounds like ‘no talkintoeeachother.’

You shrink back into the dirty wall behind you as your associate spits a bloody phlegm ball in the man’s direction. “FUCK you!” She snarls, a tirade of cuss words in Spanish flying from her lips. 

A loud pop almost bursts your eardrums and your heart and you exclaim in terror as your associate is shot point blank in the head, her back slumping against the wall and her head hitting with a bang, pieces of blood and brain tissue spraying over the back wall with pieces flying in your direction.  

The man remains completely motionless with his arms still raised before huffing a laugh to himself, putting the gun back on his hip, and looking at you with the such an unaffected gaze it leaves you feeling dizzy and you scream and scream and scream yourself hoarse, crumpling onto your mattress in a terrified heap, arms over your head, sobbing hysterically.

A gentle but firm palm wraps around your forearm, yanking you back up to a seated position. You look away, but the man’s other hand takes you gently by the jaw and makes you look at him. And just behind him, the woman slumped in a pool of blood and brain matter. You try to wriggle out of his grip but he tightens ever so slightly, and you can’t help but notice how different it is when Frankie would grab you like that versus this man. Frankie held you the same, sometimes harder, but you had trusted his domination and his care of you and because of that, it made it arousing. That same motion with this man has you more scared than you ever have been in your life. 

“Bebita.” He coos, thumb lightly caressing your jaw. He wipes at a small speck of blood you don’t know is even there. You can feel yourself shaking and breathing so fast you can see his half waxed back tousled locks that hang past his temples are blowing in its breeze. You can’t answer him. “Look at me.”

You do. His eyes are a dark, almost black chocolate brown, shape mismatched, a scruffy beard and goatee and thin lips. In another world you would find him devastatingly attractive and the fact that you do makes you feel absolutely violated and disgusted with yourself. 

“Do not cry.” He continues. “You have no reason to if you behave, si? You be good and you listen and I will keep you safe you understand? Well, at least for now.” He shifts closer to you, you can smell his breath. It smells like orange and cloves. “There are a lot of men here Bebita. I am sure you understand what this means, si? Answer me.”

“Yes.” A final fat tear spills from one of your eyes, and it stings as it mixes with your sweat and the raw skin around your eyes. 

He juts his head in the other woman’s direction. “This one, she fight the whole time. I like a easy job. Make my job easy, I make sure you always deal with me. Do not make me call in the other guys, they are not as nice. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He releases your chin and you scoot back quickly as he saunters over to the other woman’s bloody body, grabs it by the arm, and casually drags her as dismissively as possible out the door and out of your sight, leaving a bloody trail behind.

At first you just sit there in a slump staring at the opposite wall,, you don’t know for how long. Probably hours. Maybe days. The man, whose name you figured out from when he spoke to someone else in the hall, is Angel. Sometimes he would sit up and watch you, as if figuring you out, your body and the way you shift and switch positions when you are uncomfortable, what it looked like when you were crying and trying to keep quiet and unnoticed. But most of the time he ignored you. Occasionally others would come into the room and either speak to him or approach you, but upon noticing Angel watching them they would hiss or spit a curse and slink off.

The room reminded you of those old houses from the 70s that had those drafty unfinished basements that were simply concrete floors, painted stucco or white brick. To the sicarios, it served as an overflow area, there was a rotting desk along the side wall with a metal folding chair and piles of scattered papers and random household tools on them. Against the opposite side wall was a pretty nice tv, considering, which was always playing soccer. Angel seemed to make that his home base, his lithe frame sprawled across a grandma-fabric sofa, head resting on one of the puffy arm rests. He binge-smoked cigarettes and his right hand was always stretched over his head resting against his forehead in the direction of to an end table with an massive overflowing porcelain ashtray on it. You didn’t used to mind the smell of cigarettes too much but now it makes you feel sick.

You’re ashamed of how little you actually think about your current situation and like the hopeless romantic idiot you are, mostly all you can think about is Frankie. The things he said–you knew he said mean things when he was mad, or things he didn’t mean, but isn’t there always some truth to things that are said in the heat of the moment? That was enough for you to silently spiral. You thought about every memory you had of him and how it could be viewed through the lens that Frankie just wanted to fuck you. Your self confidence was low enough it was believable, and your mind races through every instance of an older man being in a relationship with someone much younger and how of course it was predatory, and how could you not see it, that you didn’t have anything in common? It’s a tale as old as time. He just wanted to fuck you, he wanted to fuck you and dominate you, his dark desires seducing you into feeling so wanted you can’t believe you thought he loved you and didn’t see right through it. 

And his friends, well, they were all in on it weren’t they, because why would they want to hang out with someone like you either? Why would men such as that actually want to be friends with you when you have never experienced half of what they have.

Fuck him. Fuck him and his lying ass, he was a fucking loser addict and you’re pissed at yourself for even considering him. Like how lonely were you?? To choose an old man with a kid who served in an institution that represented everything you hated about this country? To be so easily blinded by pretty words and love bombs to immediately take your clothes off. Because how, if he actually loved you or even like you, could he possibly have lied about something so big?! Or bought you something nice with all that fucking drug money he stole. Not that you’d want it or expected it, but why wouldn’t you want to treat someone you love as much as he claimed to? 

How could he sit there and make up what happened to Tom like that, when you were being so coddling and trying to be a caring ear. And Benny…Pope...if they were your friends they should have told you, that’s what real friends do…

But they weren’t your friends. They were never your friends. 

And if you went the other way, and considered that it was all true, that he did love you, that they were all your friends, and that he lied to you and threw stones to hurt you and push you away, how was that any better? You couldn't even think about a future not being with him, but obviously he could. He could watch you cry and question him and not even look at you, completely ignore you, then not even think about you again. No texts, no calls. No “I’m sorry, please come back.” Silence. 

How could it be so easy for him? How can he just go about his life like you never happened? Why did you still care?

Why did you still want him? 

Why did you still love him so so much. Part of you wishes they’d get on with it and just kill you. At least then you wouldn’t have to feel this excruciating pain. You wouldn’t have to see him show up to rescue you because he has to, to have to see his fucking face and every line, crinkle, scar, the bald patch in his beard and the tousled little curls that pop out of his hat…only for him to save you and then leave again, or die and then you have the guilt of killing a man who no longer loved you.

Yea. You think you’d rather die.

You feel like you’re going to throw up again. You’d let him force his cock in your mouth as far as it could go, let him tie you up and fuck you hard enough to leave bruises you had thought of as a badge of honor. You’d let him cum on your face. You’d let him fucking cum inside you! He’d gaslit you so you actually wanted him to tie you up with zip ties—-

Your heart almost stops. You can picture how his face looked exactly when he said it.

Sometimes rope can give over time.

That’s why we always used zip ties.

You look down at your bound hands.

They’re bound with rope.

[exactlymaximumgarden]

what i did for love (jschlatt x reader fic)

chapter 2: new guy

summary: after endless chatter about the so-called "new guy," you finally have a less than ideal run-in with him. word count: ≈2.0k warnings: fem!reader, use of (y/n), kinda angsty later on a/n: hi chat. this chapter is kinda tea so i hope you like it lol song: again and again - the bird and the bee

You never thought you’d be more grateful for a lunch break in your life. The cast had been dismissed for an hour just after running the emotional monologue from the character Paul, which promptly followed your solo dance number. Teching your routine wasn’t too much of a hassle, but the actual choreography was beyond grueling. You were more than ready for a breather.

Surprisingly, Schlatt, during the run, wasn’t a bother at all. You could’ve sworn you caught him glancing at you from the wings at certain points, and you couldn’t say for sure whether or not he had seen any of your solo at all, but during the monologue afterward in which everyone in the cast was offstage save for your castmate Mateo, Schlatt was nowhere to be found. 

Not that you had a problem with that, anyway. Hell, you didn’t care what all he fucked off to do as long as you didn’t have to be there for any of it.

Now, you could only do your best to rid your mind of all thoughts related to him as you sat in your dressing room, which you shared with Victoria and two other castmates, Sierra and Lola. Aside from your already established bond with Victoria, you’d taken it upon yourself to build a closer friendship with Sierra and Lola since they played the characters Maggie and Bebe respectively, so naturally you would have to stand near them in the chorus line formation. That was also partially the reason the four of you had been grouped together to share a dressing room, so it was only beneficial for you to have a good rep with both.

The four of you were plopped in a circle on the dressing room floor, accompanied by your other castmates Ari, Mateo, and Dante. All seven of you picked at your lunches, more interested in the conversation at hand than actually eating. However, the topic quickly shifted to the oh so mysterious new guy, and as much as you wanted to shut your brain off than have to listen to speculations about Schlatt, you were also insanely hungry. So, you simply forced yourself to sit there and listen.

That was just like Schlatt, you couldn’t help but think sourly. Always the center of attention, even when he wasn’t in the room.

“Has anyone actually gotten a chance to talk to him yet?” Lola asked, her amber eyes twinkling with curiosity as she scanned the group. 

“I accidentally bumped into him after we teched my scene,” Mateo piped up. “He was pretty nice. Apologized to me and all. Even though it was totally my fault.”

“Can I say he’s kinda hot?” Sierra was next to chime in, her silvery voice quickly filling the silence. A quiet laugh promptly rippled through the group, although it took a bit of willpower on your behalf to keep your own from sounding too forced. “Like, respectfully? I’d smash.”

“You’d smash anything that breathes.” Ari, seated behind her on the dressing room counter, nudged her teasingly with his leg.

“Hey, can you blame me? I’ve tried every dating app there is. I’m debating whipping out the last resort any day now.”

“eHarmony?”

“No. Becoming a nun.”

“Okay, but do we know why they brought in someone new so late in the process?” Victoria interrupts. “What happened to the old stagehand? What’s-his-face?”

“Who cares what his name was? He got fired, and good thing.” This heated answer was spat from Dante, who had been cast in the show as the lively tap-dancer Mike. His heavy Brooklyn accent was interwoven through every syllable as he continued, “He was a fuckin’ idiot, not to mention a total dick. Always actin’ like he knew everything, being a shit to Vanja and all. I’m surprised she didn’t kick his ass out sooner. But I heard they put out an open call for someone to fill in for ‘im. Anyone with at least basic knowledge of allat computery shit. I guess that’s how they roped the new guy in. Shat, or whatever he’s called.”

Of course. He made perfect sense for the job. He’d wanted to go into computer science before he’d gone down the rabbit hole of his own career. “Schlatt.” You couldn’t keep the correction from spilling from your lips. You weren’t all too thrilled to discover the way his name still tasted like acid on your tongue.

“Yeah. That.”

“Well, at least he seems nice.” Victoria shrugged. “Upgrade from the last dude.”

“Nice and sexy!” Sierra giggled, earning another nudge from Ari.

Despite yourself, you opened your mouth. You had the insatiable urge to say something, maybe a cryptic, biting remark directed towards Schlatt. Something about how nobody here knew what he was really like, how he was the furthest thing from nice, how he’d ruined everything. However, you were promptly interrupted by a knock on the dressing room door.

“Hello?” Lola called out, craning her neck to snag a better view of the visitor.

The door creaked open, and Lacey poked her head in. Lacey was a petite, curvy girl, her hair tied up in pigtails and extravagant eyeshadow powdered against her lids. She’d been cast as Val, so she figured going over the top in her stage look would fit the character. Nobody had the heart to tell her she looked clownish.

“Just wanted to tell you guys we have five minutes until we’re back,” she explained in her typical squeaky tone, a toothy grin spreading across her lips. “Vanja’s giving us a bit of extra time to get settled, though. She just finished introducing herself to Jay.”

For whatever reason, Lacey first-naming Schlatt created a strange feeling in the pit of your stomach. Nobody ever did that. Not in his circle, anyway. But you couldn’t necessarily fault her for that. She didn’t come from his circle. That was a you problem.

“Thanks, Lacey.” You quickly hopped to your feet, stashing what was left of your lunch back with your belongings. “I’m gonna go to the restroom real quick. Will someone let Vanja know in case I’m not back in time?”

“I got it,” Victoria instantly volunteered, to which you shot her a grateful smile.

“Go piss, girl!” Ari murmured, resulting in a collective snort among the group. He elicited a grin from you, too, but you’re already out the door by the time you clocked it.

___

Wandering through the twisting hallways of the backstage area reminded you of yet another thing you’d never get used to regardless of how long you’d been performing. It never seemed to fully register that the older the theatre, the more historic the building, the dingier the backstage was. And right now, you might as well have been traversing a maze.

All this for a piss.

You couldn’t tell how long it took you to actually locate the bathrooms within the labyrinthine hallways, and you could only imagine that, with your luck, it’d be even longer before you found your way back to the stage. And of course that proved to be true. Before you knew it, you were lost. It wasn’t your fault, you kept telling yourself. This is why you exclusively used the restrooms out in the theatre’s foyer. At least those were easy to find.

“Whoa!”

You were instantly snapped out of your daze as you collided with someone’s larger frame. You stumbled backward from the impact, but whoever you ran into quickly clamped their hands around your biceps to keep you from completely falling on your ass.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry, I-” Your vision refocused, your voice instantly trailing off as you gazed upward at the person before you. Schlatt’s eyes bore into yours, hints of both concern and amusement evident in his gaze. Suddenly, the grip on your arms turned from something relieving to much more revolting.

The corners of his lips tilted upward in the faintest of smiles as he let go of you, stepping back. You could feel his gaze raking over you, taking you in. “Hey, stranger,” he greeted, leaning against the wall beside him.

You wanted to walk away, turn your back on him this instant. But you couldn’t. You felt paralyzed. Rooted to the spot.

“Hi,” you muttered in return.

“How’s it goin’? Been a while, huh?”

“Yep.” No shit, it’s been a while. I never wanted to see you again. “I’ve been fine. Been busy with the show and all.”

“I can imagine. Seems like a lotta work already.”

“It’s Broadway. Of course it is.” Your tone came out a bit more biting than intended. Schlatt quickly seemed to catch on, his brow quirking up in a slight smirk.

“You’re right. Stupid thing of me to say.” He held up his hands in mock surrender. You huffed out a scoff, but it was clearly forced. “Well, uh, hey,” Schlatt tried once more after an awkward silence ensued. “I saw you dance a little bit. From the wings. You did… good.”

“Good, huh?” You folded your arms across your chest, a bit exasperated with how the conversation was going nowhere.

“Yeah. You did good,” he repeated, his eyes still glued to you. It was growing increasingly hard not to shudder under his stare, feeling like prey beneath him. Your stomach churned, and you could practically hear your heart’s frenzied beating within your eardrum. For a moment, he fell quiet once more, and you swore you saw his expression falter. Whatever air of confidence was there before seemed to melt, devolving into something softer, something unreadable… disappointment, maybe? Regret? “You look good, (Y/N).”

It felt like the world stopped at that. You had to fight every fiber within you that wanted to bark out an incredulous laugh. “Really?” you instead asked, bewilderment of his utter audacity clear in your voice. “Is this a joke?”

Schlatt instantly straightened, no longer leaning on the wall. An air of defensiveness flickered over him. “What? Can I not say you look good?”

“Are you actually asking me that?” It shouldn’t have been so easy for him to rile you up, get under your skin.

Schlatt’s lips flattened into a straight line as he heaved a heavy sigh. “(Y/N), come on. Listen, I know these aren’t ideal conditions, but-”

“Like hell they aren’t!” You ran a hand through your hair, feeling like you might as well have been on the brink of tearing every single strand out. “Just stop. Not now. Don’t do this to me.”

“Why not now? Look, we gotta talk at some point.”

“There isn’t anything to talk about. You made things very clear when you decided you were done with me,” you spat. Schlatt opened his mouth to protest, but you quickly interrupted. “Can you please just do me a solid and point me back to the stage? I’ve got more important things to focus on right now than this.”

He stopped dead in his tracks. His usually soft expression was icy, and it was evident by the way his eyes flitted all across your face that he was seriously debating what to do next. However, to your relief, he jerked his head over his shoulder. “Straight ahead behind me. Take a left, up the stairs, take a right. You'll find your way.”

You didn’t wait to say anything more. No sooner did the words escape his lips than you practically bolted past him, reciting the directives he’d given you over and over to occupy your mind. To anyone else in the cast, your exchange with Schlatt would have seemed entirely random. Up until this moment, you two hadn’t interacted once. How could it have bubbled up to this so quickly?

That was something only you and Schlatt knew. The history between you two. And yet, knowing that history like the back of each other’s hands, he still wanted to act like things were normal. He still wanted to try and pass off as if nothing happened. As if everything was fine. Tearing your heart and stomping on it, over and over and over again.

Furiously wiping your eyes as your feet pattered up the staircase he’d guided you to, you couldn’t help but ponder. He was so clearly over everything. Over it enough to feel confident enough to act all casual, anyway.

So why the hell couldn’t you be?

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