#every now and again i go 'and another thing!' about that bloody movie

[d-dormant]

and why did they conceal the birthmark over her brow for the second film

[telesodalite]

I need to be weirder about the scavengers and cannibalism...

[ophelialoveshandsomemen]

Say what you will about Van Helsing 2004; hate it, love it, be indifferent, But the All-Hallow's masquerade ball went sooooo hard and it had zero right to do so! It's a fun, campy, monster mash movie with wonderfully dated ( and expensive) cgi and non-stop action meant to be a popcorn flick one takes out to watch around spooky season. And it has this* chef's kiss* GORGEOUS 6 minute sequence plopped arbitrarily in the second act, which unexpectedly surpasses nearly every other ball in the last 30+ years of film( notable exception being the Cinderella 2015 ball) for literally no reason other than to be dramatic af.

Like feast your eyes on this Gothic masterpiece!!! Who doesn't want to immediately live in this picture?!??

They used those candles with oil in them so that they would have real candles, real string orchestra( I believe), probably around 100 real life extras( something which is tragically absent in modern film), said extras are all in beautiful fully decked-out costumes( which are in luxuriously dark colours, but nearly no fully black, another thing you cannot say for much modern cinema), REAL CIRQUE DU SOLEIL PERFORMERS for all the acrobatics!!!! Hell, instead of filming in a sound stage, where they could control the reverb and the acoustics and the size of the set and the bloody lighting ( they apparently had a heck of a time emulating the firelight for this sequence) and the temperature( it's very cold in stone churches!) better, they filmed in a Baroque church in Prague! As I said, peak dramatic splendour, jfc...

Think about that a second...They filmed a vampire masquerade in a Baroque Catholic Church( St. Nicholas' in Lesser Town, if you were curious) with amazing over-the-top acoustics and marble statues and real, tiled floors and marble pillars and a choir loft which they very much utilized, covered the pipe organ and the altar with a grand brocade curtain so it wouldn't be so obviously a, you know, a church! And there's a gold gilt elevated and canopied pulpit into which they put two vampire kiddies for, again, the sake of being dramatic.

And the costumes! They remind me of the 25th anniversary Phantom of the Opera Masquerade costumes. Same quality, like they're old, well-cared-for costumes pulled out of a warehouse, instead of fast industry churn-outs. With lots of trim and colour and masks and lace and feathers and..just...ugh.. they are all perfect! Just look at all the head pieces on the ladies and the hats on all the gentleman ( save Dracula of course) and the powdered wigs on the musicians. ANNNNDD! The dresses are historically correct!!!!!! It's the 80's bustle era! Nobody does the 80's bustle era in film anymore and it's a bummer. Oh and one other thing! Anna's ( and other women's) hair, at least here in the ball, is also historically accurate because it's all pinned up! None of those fucken modern beachwaves at a ball! Everybody's got updo's!

Gah, I swear, Dracula in his gold cloak really does things to me in this scene!

By the way, the acrobatics are bonkers in here for just background stuff!! Especially the random guys on unicycles and the dude playing the violin whilst standing on a ball...Like....WHAT?

Anyways, all this to say, that this masquerade ball feels sooo real and tangible and because of that it blows every other film out of the water, and no, I will not change my mind!!!!!

Here's a few more gifs, bcuz, why the hell not, this scene is sexy as fuu*ck?

Alright I need to go to bed now.

[delphi-shield]

— 「 BODYGUARD 」

lighter lorenz x reader — 2.2k summary: you're not his responsibility (not yet), but the guilt will eat him alive if he doesn't get your drunk ass home safely. content: lighter's pov, vomit, alcohol use, sappy lighter, jealous lighter beyonce's bodyguard is so him to me i can't do this anymore fellas

You call; he answers.

Some things in life are just that simple. Lighter tries to keep it that way for you.

You don’t normally call in the middle of the night, though. Lighter doesn’t mind – honest, he doesn’t. He had been tossing and turning since he laid down, passing the time by picking open old wounds, letting the regret sting the raw edges. It takes time to realize that the ringing isn’t in his ears, that he’s flat on his back in bed, not in the ring. He almost ignores the call, but when he rolls over and sees your name flickering back at him, he dives to pick up before the last ring.

You're silent on the other line, nothing but muffled talking and rustling against the microphone. All sorts of scenarios race through his head. You're stuck somewhere - trapped in a hollow, or cornered by a rival gang. His past has caught up to him, mired you in all this ick. His stomach turns.

Adrenaline works way better than caffeine and he’s known that for a while, but he wishes he wasn’t so familiar with the helplessness that grips him. Lighter sits up, swings his legs over the side of his bed, poised to run to you.

It’s nothing so serious. When you finally get your phone up to your face and greet him with a (too loud, too sloppy) ‘hey!’ it becomes painfully obvious. You're drunk. That's what all of this is about.

Lighter needles the details out of you bit by bit, trying to glean information from your ramblings. Stranded out in Badger Springs. You met some guy out there for a date, he went to the bathroom and didn’t come back. You don’t laugh when he offers to deck the guy, and he can’t tell if you’re really torn up about this or if you just didn’t hear him.

Lighter pinches the bridge of his nose. He exhales long and low, away from the mic. He shouldn't encourage this. Can't keep bailing you out every time you get yourself in a sticky situation. But the thought of you drunkenly stumbling around the Outer Ring, bumbling your way into real trouble, has him fumbling to get his arms through his jacket.

“Stay put. I’ll be right there.”

Badger Springs. Seriously? Why’d you have to go so far out? What was so wrong with getting a drink in Blazewood?

Irritation pricks at him, has his hands feeling staticky even when he grips the handlebars of his bike. You probably went out there so no one would interrupt your date. What, were you trying to hide it? Did the girls know about this? No. No way. You would have called one of them to pick you up if that were the case. Right? You weren’t trying to hide it from him, not specifically.

He has a long ride ahead to stew about it, to knot the meaning of your actions into ugly shapes and then smooth them out, only to twist it all up again another mile down the road. This wouldn’t have happened - he kicks the stand down on his bike - if he’d manned up, if he’d asked you to watch the movie he’d rented. (New release, independently produced, apparently based off some old civilization tapes that had only been spoken about in a scant few records - some horror flick called Seen that you had been raving about. Not his thing, but your eyes lit up when you spoke about it. He figured he could just watch you during the bloody parts.)

But he didn’t ask, and now he’s here, freezing his ass off in the middle of the night, parked outside this shithole bar, two towns over. The bar is a dump. Looks like your date couldn’t even take you anywhere nice. You’re off by yourself at the end of the bar, shoulders drawn in close, crowding over your drink. At least the regulars are leaving you alone. A quick look around tells him that there’s too many people in this place for it to be a quick fight, if it came down to that.

He strolls past tables and booths, lets his hand fall heavy on your shoulder. You jump, turning sluggishly to look up at him - eyes wide and red. C’mon - don’t tell him you’ve been crying over this prick. Your expression smooths the moment that you recognize him. 

“Lighter!” Your arms fling around his middle, squeeze him tightly.

The tide of adrenaline that he washed in on pulls back, drags his relief away. Anger shores up, quick and sudden. It soothes in another pulse of his heart; understanding. It's kind of flattering if he doesn't think about it too hard. You trusted him enough to come pick you up. Probably couldn't even think clearly - just knew you wanted to go home. Knew he would get you there, safe and sound. Not a bad prize for driving all the way out here; he tries to enshrine this moment in his memory. Later, trying to fall asleep in his room, he’ll feel like a sleaze for delighting in being your hero like this.

He pats the top of your head, takes advantage of the distraction to wave the bartender over, check if you’ve still got an open tab. He slips him a couple extra denny for the trouble, keeps you distracted and talking with carefully placed ‘oh, really?’s and ‘mhm’s.

"You're wasted, huh?"

“Not that bad.”

You sound confident. He steps back, lets you hop off the bar stool on your own. Lighter hooks a thumb in his pocket. He drums his fingers against his thighs, watching you sway back and forth in front of him. Your eyes are hazy and unfocused, looking in his general direction with a dopey grin on your face.

Pride feels better than anger. He latches onto that. You make it so easy to feel when you cling onto his arm, lean into him. He keeps you close, ignores the whispers he overhears about the Red Scarf. His step quickens. He’s not getting into any trouble, not when he’s here for you.

You struggle to keep up, all uncoordinated limbs, your head probably spinning. He helps you onto the back of his bike and passes you a helmet. He’d grabbed it on his way out - figured if you were as trashed as you sounded on the phone then it was better safe than sorry. He’s glad he did.

Somewhere along the ride home, you stopped babbling. He had felt your words pressed against his back more than he had heard them. He stops just before home to check on you. Can’t have you falling asleep. He doesn’t want to hear it about riding in with you all banged up on the back - he’d never let it down. He’d never let himself live it down, more accurately, but his bike starts back up before you hear that part.

Honestly, he’s almost positive you won’t remember much past when you first called him. That doesn’t stop him from treating you gently. He helps you off his bike, keeps your hand in his to guide you around stray milk crates and cacti that just seemed to leap into your path.

It’s just a little further. He’s almost got you back to your place when he hears it. That ominous groan. Your face pallid, cold sweat breaking out against your forehead.

��Gonna throw up?” He asks, big hand rubbing slow circles on your back.

You shake your head, the force of it knocking you off balance. You would have stumbled right into a cactus if he hadn’t hauled you into his side by the back of your shirt. (Like scruffing a kitten, he catches himself thinking. Cute.)

He tries to guide you to the closest trash can, but you can’t quite make it. Your legs are quaking, all the strength sapped from you while you expel that contents of your stomach into one of Old Demir’s flower pots. He gathers your hair back from your face gently, caging it all in one hand to rub your back with the other. Somewhere between gentle coos of ‘there you go’ and ‘let it all out’, he manages to make out your garbled apology. You thread it between heaves, between sobs, but he catches it all the same and shushes you for it.

“All better?” He asks when the dry heaving has stopped. You nod slowly. The tiniest whimper he’s ever heard drifts from your lips. He knows from experience that much more movement than that will hurt.

Lighter sighs. The scent of your perfume curdles with the stench of vomit. He arranges your hair back as best he can, trying to replicate the way you had done yourself up - all pretty for another man, he remembers. You wipe your mouth on the back of your hand, and he pulls the end of his scarf free.

“No, Lighter–”

Your hands are clumsy. He dodges your attempts to stop him easily. He clicks his tongue and swipes the vomit from your chin. “Don’t worry about it. This scarf has seen worse.”

It’s about time to get it cleaned, anyway. Add that to his growing list of chores.

You’re moving slower than before. He tucks you into his side to give you some more stability. When you pause at the steps to your place, he sweeps an arm under your knees, cradles you close to him. He had expected a protest, or an apology - something in line with the rest of your behavior this evening, but you curl closer to him. 

It’s a fumble to find your keys - shifting your weight from one arm to the other until he finally finds them in your back pocket. He knows your place well enough to dodge the shoes left in the entrance way, to step around the box that sticks out into the hallway from your bedroom. He settles you into your bed, rolls you onto your side - just to be safe.

Lighter keeps watch for a few moments, making sure you’re not going to roll onto your back, pressing the back of his hand against your sweat-chilled forehead. Once he’s certain the worst has passed, he leaves to fill a glass of water for you. Your eyes are half-open when he gets back. He draws up a chair, tries to figure out how to ask if you want his help changing into something more comfortable without sounding like a creep.

You rip that idea from his head when you blindside him with a question.

“D’you think it’s my fault?”

“Course not,” Lighter answers before he can even put together what you’re asking. “Everyone has too much fun sometimes. Don’t beat yourself up over it. You’re not even gonna remember this.”

“No, I mean…” You curl tightly around your pillow. He could have sworn he heard a hitch in your voice. His heart lurches. Christ, you can’t start crying now. He can’t take it. “Why would he just leave?”

Lighter has to remind himself not to pull a face. Not what you need right now. He’s already said too much. He’s just going to wind up upsetting you more. He wants to tell you that guy is a douchebag, that none of it had been your fault. The guy just wasn’t man enough to be upfront. That was all.

“I just don’t think I’m meant for this,” you whisper. His train of thought crashes abruptly. "Like– love, and stuff.”

“You’re so much fun to be in love with,” Lighter says, and if you were sober you would clock him for just how quickly he did so, “and someday, someone’s gonna see that.”

“How do you know?”

Because my heart feels like it’s buckled into a roller coaster and I can’t figure out if I’m having fun or if I’m scared shitless. Because I’ve got eyes. Because it’s you.

He can’t say any of that. Not now, while you’re shivering and small, a little bundle of raw nerves that he rescued from some dump. Christ, you really are a kitten right now. He chucks your chin with a knuckle, his smile twisting to something bittersweet.

“C’mon. You should know not to bet against me by now.”

For the first time since he got you through the door, you smile. Barely there and flimsy, but you’re only just clinging to consciousness. Your cheek presses back against your pillow, eyes slipping shut.

“Thanks, Lighter,” you murmur.

You’re out cold within the next minute.

Lighter lingers overlong. He shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be in your room while you’re passed out like this, but he can’t bring himself to rise. His shoulders hunch, expression dropping, stomach churning. Through your window, dawn is just beginning to break. The Outer Ring is bathed in a cool blue light, the horizon tinging purple at the edges.

You have a hell of a morning ahead of you. He runs a hand down his face and forces himself to stand, to get his day started properly. Another sleepless night. Maybe the next time he finds himself awake, staring at the ceiling and tormenting himself, he’ll call you first. Maybe he’ll do it before anyone else has a chance to.

Lighter locks your door on his way out and tucks the key under your mat. He should act. He should tell you.

He walks back to his place in silence, resisting the urge to grab his phone, to text you and say let me know if you need anything.

Maybe one day.

[thephantomsdream]

Simon "Ghost" Riley that likes to be pampered, to be taken care of and let me tell you, he's just so not used to it. He's never had anyone to really treat him anything close to good.

In all honesty, he genuinely thought it was fine, being alone. He's a solitary creature, as life taught him to be, and deep down he convinced himself it was best. It didn't matter if there was a small, minuscule, pained tug at his heart every time he thought about it.

What he didn't expect was to be whipped immediately, one glance into your eyes and he was a goner. It went against his reasoning, this instinct of his to have you, battling everything he's been trying to avoid at all costs. But that one glance, that small smile you gave him, and he just knew. And months of tedious yet slow opening up and trying not only for you, but for himself, Simon was yours somehow. Baffling as it was, he now had someone to go home to. A sweet angel that in no time he plans to up and move into that bare house he has and take care of. Only thing is, the man did not expect to be taken care of himself, as if he forgot that was an option.

The first few times you two dated, officially, as he had to clarify this wasn't what kids these days mean by "hanging out" or "talking to" or whatever the fuck Johnny and Kyle were babbling to him about their dating lives (it's dating or not, Simon likes things clear), the man was surprised by how sweet yet determined you were. "Can I hold your hand?" You asked him a little flustered, and this big boy almost stuttered. He found himself nodding while gulping before taking your hand in his, internally beating himself up for acting like such a... boy? Having a silly crush on a lovely sweetheart that made him nervous by just exiting around him.

God, it felt fantastic when he finally got to kiss you. Simon thought it was gonna be just a kiss, big fucking deal (he was trying to cope, his hands were sweaty but whatever, big deal), but the way you sighed and melted into him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck made him shudder. It ignited something in him and his heart tugged again, this time not painful but hopeful.

It was the way you touched his scarred face that really astonished him, especially the first night you spent in his house. Whatever movie you babbled about the last date, vampires or whatever, was now playing on his flat screen on the new profile he created for you on whatever streaming service Simon just bought just to watch it. Another tiny bit of you in his life, it seemed. Movie was fucking awful, truly, fucking dumb teenagers and vampires, but whatever, your boyfriend (bloody fucking hell it felt fantastic and scary to think that he's now yours officially) was determined to watch it even if he snorted and made fun of it every three seconds, yet having you giggle by his side made his cold heart warm up as it beat a thousand times per second. Once again, he found himself about to mock something jokingly when he turned to you, finding your beautiful eyes already on him, expression warm and relaxed.

"Come here." At that moment, Simon Riley realized he'd follow anything you'd order him, as his body moved without any thoughts, just closer to you. Like a stray dog that's learning what a home is, something he's never really had, and when your lips touched his cheek while caressing the other, the world slowed down.

Having you move closer to him, placing a leg over his, smiling at him sweetly while gently kissing the scar near his lower lip, all he could do was stare dumbly as his face felt on fire. Little did he know that his pale cheeks reddened so adorably that you started to giggle. God, he fucking loved that sound.

"Lay on me, c'mon." You ordered gently again, grabbing his calloused hands to tug him onto you as you laid down on your back. Simon knew he looked like an idiot in awe, very much aware he's always had a staring problem. But as he crawled gently over you, expecting you to push him off after abruptly changing your mind, all he could do was to look down into your cleavage and stare like a muppet. " 'S aight?" Being all he asked before hearing a nice hum, approval for him to lay on you.

That day, Simon learned what heaven is. Your fingers into his hair, slowly, gently playing with his dirty blond locks, his face in your soft tits, your voice oh-so clear as he pressed his ear into your torso, the slow rumble almost putting him to sleep while his eyes were focused on the silly movie. His arms were wrapped around you while he just laid down between your legs. His dumb jokes still delivered as he muffled them out lazily, getting you to laugh and make him smirk as you(r tits) jiggled under him, and his reward, because you're a fucking angel, of course, was a sweet kiss on his temple every single time. The man could be turning into a clown by the end of the night as long as you kissed him so tenderly.

You spoiled him too. How dare you, really? Bringing him sweets, asking him what he wants to eat, adjusting your schedule to fit his (man's off duty, he can camp outside your house and come in whenever you want him to, if you'd be willing, like a good obedient dog), just making him feel wanted. It was odd. And new. And addicting.

You cared. You cared for him. And in his wonky yet honest way, he cared too. Always making sure that you know he's somehow thinking of you. He wanted to try. He wanted to make sure you'll stick around. The military has taught this man a lot of things, and apart from his head-strong conviction that he indeed can do anything if he puts his mind to it, another was how to not fuck up something good, all through the hundreds of stories from many other soldiers about failed relationships. He knows all the perspectives, all the failures, all the erros and all the aftermaths, so he learned to listen and not blame, to pay attention, to be there even if he was half a world away. Simon is determined to keep you around, coming back to you battered, wounded, traumatized, exhausted, and is greeted with his angel, all ready to pick him up, wrap him in a warm blanket and fuss over his ass. He'd roll his eyes at you, but his emerging smile said it all.

His heart now tugs when he's about to pick his luggage, a duffle bag filled with essentials and nothing more. A week earlier than expected too, relief washing over his body like never before, knowing you're at home waiting for good news. And he's heading that way too, determined, unrelenting, head first, no thoughts. He's going home to you.

Home to warm, delicious food, instead of stale and plain. Home to sweet laughter and love, instead of orders barked and indifference. Home to his, your comfortable bed, arms and legs wrapped around each other, the plump delicious curves of your body pressed against his hardened one. Home to gentle, home to calm, home to soft, home to himself, home to everything. Home to his heart, that is tugging him closer and closer, where he left it with you.

I'm just gonna dump this here and leave. Not proofread because we're old and lazy here.

[bon2bonn]

Just Another Day ......

22!F1!grid X female!driver!reader

It's just another day in the grid with our female!driver

Words count : 1.8k.

Warnings: grammar, not proof read , yet .

Back to 🏁 The Grid 🏎️

Papayas mishaps:

The reporter made a face but tried to keep going, but not five seconds later he tilted his head to the side mumbling under his breath 'what in the world' forgetting about his microphone that picked it making Max ask " pardon?" . The man stammered" sorry it's just ......." Then he pointed to the back over Max's shoulder making the said driver look back along with the camera .

Our driver was dangled upside down by Daniel with lando asking her something , to which she shook her head quickly in denial making Daniel shake her around before spinning her , she let out a loud laugh shouting 'weeeeeeee!' With her arms spread wide like a giddy kid . Max turned back to face the reporter and shrugged " it's just Thursday " the reporter nod and closed his mouth before moving on .

••••••••••••••••••

M.I.A:

Toto was on the verge of screaming bloody murdered in the middle of the garage, the media and press be dammed for all he cares when he got bigger problems to deal with , a problem in the form of a human being(gremlin if he could say it out loud) called 'Y/N' who happened to be his driver , and she was missing at the moment , again , exactly 10 minutes before race and she's still not found.

The last thing he imagined to go through a full blown mental breakdown ahead of a big race , but he wasn't surprised at all that she was the cause of it , and he was too close to lose it and was beyond contemplating the idea of sending a search party , because he already did send one out and they as expected returned empty handed . Shocking! , right? .

They asked around the other teams as discreetly as possible to not raise attention if they saw her but that came with nothing leading everyone to assume that either she finally did it and walked out , or something did happen to her , and by now everyone was leaning towards the first opinion more and more and Toto was about to lose his shit as other drivers and team principles came by to check if she was found yet . With every visit the media interest perked their way, specially when Max followed by Horner came by , igniting a shit load of rumours that he was not in the right mind to deal with , on top of that fans started to notice her absence around the pit and made it known, asking where she was and why she wasn't spotted for the past 3 three hours.

A camera came to focus on the Mercedes garage , zooming in on Toto who was talking urgently to a couple of staff members then at Lewis who was talking to someone on the phone , then shook his head to let the others know, then it slowly zoomed down on the ground right behind where Toto was standing .

Something was moving under the desk , it started to wiggle a bit before it rolled until it got out from there , a hand suddenly stuck out like a scene from a zombie movie and pushed the cover down to reveal a sleepy , disheveled , and might I add grumpy driver , blinking up at the ceiling lights in disorient then looked around at the team going around in a frenzy , and from where she layed on her back she looked out the garage and saw the camera giving it a sleepy smile and waved at it . She then rolled around a couple of times to get up and yawned as she walked silently to the crowd standing beside Toto and asked in confusion " what did I miss ? " Startling everyone into silence , staring at her like a ghost popping out of

Toto let out a sigh and turned to the closest chair, fall on it with his head on his hands , mumbling to himself on and on for a long moment. She then turned to the rest who were looking between her and Toto, giving the man looks of understanding and sympathy for the amount of stress he find himself in more than enough to make him go gray . She shrugged when no one seems to give an answer and went on her way with a mumble of ' good talk' , stretching her back and trying to brush back her now slightly messy hair behind her ears with a big yawn , then huffing in annoyance when she failed to and made a Beeline to Lewis side of the garage , and the moment he saw her he cheered " and she lives! ". She raised her arms in victory and asked with a pleading eyes, gesturing to her head " please relieve me of my misery " he grabbed the spare hair tie and Let her sit on one of the front tiers then started to salvage the mess , or tried to .

••••••••••••••••••

P1 disaster:

She held the 1st place trophy high and cheered up to the crowd below, putting it down away then grabbed the champagne bottle and gave it a hard shake , aiming with the intention of drenching Max and Charles , who didn't waste time to gang on her with their own bottles ready to shoot.

She stepped back to get back at them , but it was a very bad decision as it all came crashing down, literally , her foot slipping on a puddle of spilled champagne resulting in her falling backwards , but not before grabbing the closest thing which happened to be Charles who yelpped as he was brought down , his hands grabbed at Max , who's back was turned at the moment and he was dragged down face first , his own bottle falling with a big splash drenching the bystanders beneath the platform, the podium was a mess , and what a glorious mess it was.

•••••••••••••••••

Master chef mercedes:

Both her and Lewis were standing before the counter in the kitchen, demonstratieng while they prepare the dish , trying to not deadpan at the camera as the media crew cornered them before they could book it and dragged them to one of the kitchens and asked nicely (demanded with threats of hunting them down all day long for the next three days) to film some content for them , now looking back it's wasn't as well played as the media team though it would.

Our driver took out a bottle of red wine from one of the cabinets while Lewis stirred the the pan , she popped the lid first and poured a glass for herself to taste , her eyes lit up the she nod and added a bit " now add you wine and let it simmer for minute , we want to balance the flavour , so don't let it scorch like our tires five laps in on race day " , Lewis started to chuckle at the flames that caught in the pan and pointed " look! , it's like your car back in Monza " she clicked her tongue and shrugged at the flaming food " looks and smells like it too " then turned to grab the plates along with the sauces they prepared previously and started to decorate " two drops here , then a splash like Lewis's fuel leak in Baku there , then we add some freshly chopped parsley like my front wings in Qatar " Lewis winced " oooh, Qatar was a tough one to watch " she made a face " yeah , let alone feel it . Alright this is the final product " she picked up a plate and made Lewis hold it as she showcased it with a wide grin " this all we got this time " Lewis looked at the plate then hummed in approval " we make a pretty decent unprofessional chefs if I could say so " she shrugged " better than last race strategy , now we'll be off to make Toto eats it so tune in for his reaction , or ER admission " she waved with a beaming grin while Lewis nod and waved " see ya" .

••••••••••••••••••••

The favourite:

Carlos waved at the stands from his spot on the rails of the moving platform, Charles on his left side and max on his right as the three engaged in a conversation to which Max and Carlos disagreed with Charles who looked offended by their view, the frown on his face turned to confusion when he turned his back to lean on the rails instead of facing the crowd , a comeback died in his throat when he came face to face with lando who was glaring eminently at our driver , who Charles noticed was glaring back with a scowl on her lips.

He looked back and forth between the two and took a loud sip of his water and crossed his ankles , smiling in amusement as she hardened her glare which resulted in lando rolling his eyes and scoffing loudly, gaining the attention of the other two who turned to look .

They looked at her then to Lando as Max asked the later " what did you do to her ? " The said driver scowled at the accusation " why are you asking me !? Ask her ! " Max shrugged and pointed out " it's not Sunday yet , and it's too early for her to provoke anyone , so ...? " The others nod in agreement making him groan but she answered in matter of fact before he could " he's just being petty he's not Carlos favourite " said driver was about to give his opinion but was beaten to it with Lando calling out " oh , please! , as if you're his favourite" he watched as she gives him an unimpressed look with her hands on her hips " who said I wasn't? " Both looked at Carlos expectantly for an answer , he looked at them with a startled face but thankfully was cut off before he could answer with Charles pointing out nonchalantly " well , who said it wouldn't be me ? " Make the two turn heir judging scowls to the Ferrari driver and scoff in one voice " as if ! " .

Now it was his turn to glare , then turned to look pointedly at Carlos who was ambushed to answer them , he looked between the three then grabbed a confused Max by the shoulders to shove him in his place and called as he moved to the other side without looking back " Max is! " Leaving him to deal with the storm he left behind .

Sebastian chuckled at his pained face and clapped his shoulder " tough day ? " He nod and and answered with " Thursday " .

[mackandcheezy]

Don't Blame Me (Coriolanus Snow x Reader)

​​A/N: I have yet to see ABAOSAS so simply this is for the vibes, major plot changes from the book/ movie so dont mind that, simply I saw a hot morally grey man and decided I can fix him so this is for all the girlies with a toolbelt ;) 

His eyes had been glued to the screen for what felt like hours. The little specs of graininess following his vision everytime he blinked. Coriolanus Snow did not falter for anyone-- that was until he met you. Something about your blind optimism reminded him of a child, and god how he hated children, but somehow on you it was like a drug he couldn’t get enough of. It made something warm start in his chest, and little fires erupt in every nerve. It was nothing like he had ever felt before, he hated it, and yet he couldn’t get enough. And now he was going to watch the only thing that made him feel that way slip between his fingers like nothing more than a single snowflake. At some point the snow had to melt and here he was watching it live. 

He kept replaying that last conversation over and over. “I’m going to survive, there is no if,” he remembered how you brushed your fingers across his cheek through the rusty bars of the zoo. If he closed his eyes and thought about it hard enough he could feel the warmth of your fingers against his face again. He refused to remember the single tear and question that had prompted that response. This could not be a one time thing. He just got you and there was no letting you go now. Love is a drug and he was nothing but an addict. 

Coryo was jolted to reality when he noticed another tribute sneaking up behind you. He couldn’t remember his name. There was no point, the only one that mattered was the victor and that was you. It had to be you. 

Staring into the depths of your form he begged you to wake. The bile was already crawling up his throat burning a trail in its wake. Stomach clenched he closed his eyes as he heard what could only be described as a battle cry leave the murderer’s mouth. 

Three seconds. He was allowing himself three seconds of grief before he had to move on. To survive. Snow falls on top and he faltered for you but now it was over and he had to go on. 

That was until he opened his eyes to your form. You were standing over the tribute, eyes wide as the saucers that Grandma’am used to take tea in. A bloody knife dripped blood down your pale dress leaving you in a haunting shade of wet red down your right side. He didn’t remember you having that, deciding you must have fought the tribute for it, you always were good at getting what you wanted, especially from him. You took his every waking thought like it was nothing so what was a knife? 

“I killed him. He’s dead. I killed him..” Coryo could do nothing but watch as you spiraled within the tunnel. He wanted nothing more than to hold you and tell you that this was nothing more than a bad dream. Though part of him knew that in a way the person who brushed his cheek was gone. 

He quickly fixed the look of concern dawning his face, remembering how you had told him once that his “human was showing.” That single thought gracing the smallest of smiles on his lips. 

In a twisted way seeing you covered in a thick sheet of red brought him comfort. A small part of him knew that was wrong. Knew that his comfort came at the cost of a human life. But none of them deserved to live as much as you did. Now he knew you could do it, knew you had what it took to win, with the added bonus of having a weapon. He had not felt so much joy since hearing of the opportunity to go to University. You were the key to his new life, and it started now. 

He remembered thinking you were weak when he offered you the posion and you declined citing that “cheaters never win.” Coriolanus felt the entire essence of his personality crumble when those words left your perfectly pink lips. It set something inside of him aflame. You made him almost want to be a good person, almost, because if anything happened to you he would do whatever it took no matter the cost. He was ready to put his own future at risk for the assurance of knowing that you would live to see tomorrow's sunrise. Because you deserved a tomorrow more than he ever did. 

The games were coming to a close. Only a few tributes left and he watched intently as you moved around the arena. Even caked in blood, dirt, and who knows what else, he had never seen a figure more beautiful. 

He couldn’t help but allow himself to think of you adorned in the luxuries of the capitol. An egregious dress adorning your shoulders and your hair in some unnatural twist. Somehow it never looked as good as you did right now. Raw and natural, locks framing your face in small clumps. You were going to get out of this and he was going to get you out of those crummy districts. You deserved more than any of those pathetic traitors, and he was going to get you that. One way or another. 

[reallife6anoufriev6boy6]

nikitas version (fanfic)

includes noncon, necro, vomit.

i said, honey, I don't feel so good, don't feel justified

come on, put a little love here in my void

he said it's all in your head

and I said so's everything, but he didn't get it

i thought he was a man, but he was just a little boy.

nikita was over top of artyom, hands covered in a thick, messy layer of blood.

he earned a harsh shove, yelping as the boy below him pushed him off with ease.

nikita is quick to stand - a new found rage being all he could feel. it wasnt fair, nothing was. he didnt deserve to get stuck with someone who would hurt him.

however, at the same time all he wanted was him. he couldnt imagine being with anyone else - he satisfied a hunger no one else could.

a deep, overbearing hunger that couldnt be fixed with any meal. something that embodied his own sick desire and lust.

he turned away, going to grab the hammer that was left alone in the snow.

his hand hovers over the handle, unsure of what he even wanted to do.

the hammer was speckled with dried blood and matter he couldnt make out. it was a good friend of theirs that had been there since the beginning.

he ultimately picked it up - his hold tight on the handles black grip tape. it was cold and wet from the snow.

nikita turned back to the blonde, walking over.

his boots make prints in the snow, a mark that would be covered with time.

he stopped right in front of him, looming over him like a serial killer in a horror movie.

however, he just stands there and looks at his friend.

artyom was propped up on his hands and elbows, having sustained enough injury from nikita that he couldnt get up on his own.

he stared up at him with these big, round baby blue eyes - wet with tears of his own.

blood ran down his face, originating from several different sources, but his nose seemed to be the biggest issue - crooked and pouring blood.

nikita had no idea how he had done this. he would never think about doing this a day in his life - he didnt know he even had it in him.

he listened to the blonde sniffle - even his hair had been stained red. it was pathetic. he wouldve never let this happen to himself.

he looked <helpless>.

nikita had wanted a man to love - had mistaken artyom for one.

but he really was just a little boy under all that anger and violence.

he says something, but he doesnt hear it. everything sounds muffled.

after a moment his own rage and anger dissipated. he wasnt doing this for himself, he was doing it for artyom.

he was a mess that he couldnt clean up. it wasnt him undeserving of this, it was artyom.

before he can think, hes already over top of him again and all he can hear is the sound of metal against his head.

the crack of his skull was deafening - the died out sobs and pleas were another thing, but he still couldnt even hear those.

the area around them turns to an eerie silence, the only sound now being the repeated thud against his skull and brain matter.

he slowed to a stop, not even realizing his own tears that had streaked down his face.

he pulled the hammer away and stared at the bloody, disfigured mess. it was sickening - he felt like he could puke.

he stared at the skull fragments and bits of brain - his once blonde hair was now <soaked> with red and now half his face was gone.

nikita stood up as quickly as he could, stepping out of the way before he gagged and puked onto the snow.

he hadnt eaten anything, so it was just stomach acid. it made his throat burn and eyes water more then they already were.

he lets out a shaky exhale, but quickly vomits again.

he could handle it every single time that it was someone else - all the people theyve murdered never left this much of a mark on him.

he forced himself to get together, wiping the puke and tears away using the back of his sleeve.

a sick thought runs through his head as he looks back over to the mangled mess that was once his friend.

he swallowed hard, returning to his previous position. he sits over his chest, legs on either side of his body.

he was gone, he was dead, there was nothing more nikita could do about this, but he wanted him one last time.

he reached his hand down and unzipped his own pants, sticking a hand down his boxers and pulling out his cock.

he shivered from the cold air hitting him, but he does his best to ignore it.

it was disgusting that he was beyond hard. he didnt even realize it before now.

he doesnt want to waste time though - he wants to get this over with and be done.

he slides forward a little more and takes hold of whatever was left of artyoms head, hesitating until he eventually stuck his cock into the others brain matter.

he shuddered, grip tightening on either sides of his head. the still warm, wet feeling was wonderful although it made him sick.

he decided not to look down, instead keeping his gaze forward.

its an awkward start, pulling out and shoving back in.

he tries to find a pace and thankfully does, going slowly but quick enough for it to be pleasurable.

he felt so perverted for doing this. it was sick and disgusting and awful. he was a terrible human being - if you could even call him that.

he picks up the speed just a little bit, biting down on his lip. it felt so good and he wished it didnt.

he wished he didnt have to do this. he wished he could just be normal - he didnt want to do this, he didnt want to kill his best friend and then violate him right after.

but either way he continued. he felt so much guilt, but the slick slide of his cock against the brain matter was all he could focus on.

he lets out a muffled groan, shoving his cock in particularly hard. he pulled back out and shoved it in the same way.

it was pathetic how he already felt like he could finish. itd barely been more then five minutes and he already felt the building need.

nikita is more animal then human, though. he gives in.

he shoved in once more, not being able to help the moan that slipped out, before he spills his cum all over the inside of his friends mangled head.

the afterglow was barely there. he didnt feel satisfied or pleased - there was no hazy or euphoric feeling to be had.

he doesnt even wait to come down completely - instead getting up faster then he could comprehend as he stuffed his dick back into his boxers, zipping up his jeans and stepping away.

he hesitated, but gave his friend one last look.

the white mixed with the red and pink was certainly a sight to see. he didnt want to just leave him here, but he didnt have a choice.

he turned without another thought, and started to walk back.

the quiet, serene forest was a stark contrast to what had just taken place. almost a cruel mockery to what horrors nikita inflicted on artyom.

but it didnt matter, nothing did.

he would have to move on and pretend nothing happened - he would know nothing about this when asked where artyom was. he would know nothing if he was ever found.

he would keep this to himself for as long as he lived.

[almondemisewriting]

doomed to repeat

prologue: original sin

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

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

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

word count: 3.6k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[like-rain-or-confetti]

Helllllooo!! I was wondering if I could get a request done plz? I was in a pretty bad car accident yesterday and I have bruises everywhere but otherwise I'm good. Could u write how all the rogues ( especially twoface n black mask) would soothe and care for their S/O after being n a bad accident please🙏🏽 ?

Im so sorry about your accident and I hope you had a quick and easy recovery. I hope you are okay ❤️ I'm sorry I only got to this now.

The Accident.

Black Mask: He stopped and told the two men behind him to wait outside. Then he closed the door and moved to your bedside. He bent down and cupped your face and pressed a kiss to your jaw and then cheek. "I'm here gorgeous." Just hearing him speak to you so softly made you tear up. "Sh, sh, sh, sh, no tears. You're okay. It's been a hell of a day, huh?" He said before pressing another kiss to your forehead. "I'm gonna pull some strings, baby. I know you don't like hospitals. I'll get you discharged over night. I'll get a doctor to come to my place. You ain't gotta worry about a thing, gorgeous. You just focus on getting some rest. I'm gonna be with you every step of the way. Let me take care of it, baby." He sat on the side of the bed, arm around you. "They given you anything for pain?" He asked and you nodded. "Mhm..." "Good. That's good."

Two-Face: You woke up to a hand on your head. "Hey..." Harvey said softly as you teared up. "I'm here. I know." He said pulling his chair closer to you. "You gotta tell me what happened baby." Harvey said. "When you're ready and able. I need to know everything." "We got you, gorgeous." Harv's gruff voice added. His non-scarred hand rubbed your arm. "Are you warm enough?" Harv' murmured. You nodded slightly. "Good. You'll be alright." Harvey assured you. "I'm here. I'm with you. The doctors are gonna get you fixed up and do a really good job, so I don't have to kick their asses up and down Gotham." He rubbed your arm again. After a moment you spoke up. "Are you asking me what happened because you want to see if anything can be done legally?" You murmured. "...Guilty. Also because I care though." Harvey replied and after a quiet moment Harv spoke up. "I freakin' hate hospitals." He huffed to himself.

Scarecrow: You saw him walk in quietly, closing the door and then the blinds as the sun was settling. He took your hand immediately, quiet at first. He leaned over and softly whispered. "Everything's okay." He kissed the crown of your head. Usually, his calm demeanor could have irked you. Perhaps if you weren't saw distraught, you would have been. Instead, you found comfort in how calm he was. He rubbed your head neck and shoulders affectionately. "It was so fast..." "I know." He leaned in more and cuddled into you. He then pressed a kiss to your jaw. "You're alright. I'll take some time off work. We'll get you settled and take your mind off things- okay? And I suppose I can be coerced into watching the ton of movies you've been pestering me for. How does take out sound?" He rubbed her shoulders. "I'll get your keys and get your stuff. We'll get you out tomorrow morning."

Mad Hatter: It was Jonathan who took him to the hospital. Jervis didn't fully comprehend the situation. Something about it unsettled him but he couldn't really grasp it. So he turned to his friends Jonathan and Edward. It was only when Jervis saw you in the hospital bed bruised, bloody and teary that he really understood what was going on. He moved as though trying not to frighten a wounded animal. He stammered as he approached, arms slightly outstretched. "Hm? Oh sweetheart." His voice quivered. He tried not to cry himself seeing you like that. "You're okay..." He told himself, teary eyed. He put a hand to the side of your head and took your hand with his free one. Jonathan stayed back and quiet out of respect. Jervis pressed a kiss to your cheek and nuzzled his head into your neck. You looked over at Jonathan and mouthed a thank you as tears finally fell. Jonathan gave you a singular slow nod. "When can I take them home?" Jervis asked, eyes wide and pleading to Jonathan. Pleading for answers. "I just want to take them home..."

The Riddler: You had mentally prepared yourself for any remarks or comments Edward would make. However when he arrived, he was very different. He was silent and simply looked you over for a moment. He was quiet and simply got into the bed beside you, pulling you gently to his chest. "I thought I lost you." He said quietly. You took the moment gratefully. "Are you in a lot of pain?" He murmured. "N-not as much as I was." You managed out. "They've given me medicine for the pain." "That's good." His response was a low rumble in his chest. "I'm here now, just relax. Get some sleep if you need to." He felt relieved that he had his phone when he did. He'd never forgive himself had he missed the call to inform you of the accident and your condition. "I'll get your stuff and when you're discharged, you can come home with me." You felt him gently rubbing your back. "I'll look after you until you feel better." He kissed the top of your head.

[janovavalen]

not just another bloody mary .°୭̥ ❁ ˎˊ˗ mike wheeler x fem!reader

summary: mike wheeler finally founds out about elevens sister and she’s more than ordinary.

warnings: swearings, yearing, y/n being clueless, y/n having a slight problem with understanding jokes and metaphors , mentions of a scar, obsession (very slight), eleven and mike have no romance connection!(only mentions of childhood crush), y/n only knowing how to kiss from a movie<3!

word count: 4k

the day was bright and school had just come around the corner once more, mike and his friends in it for their final years.

sitting in his room with nothing but his underwear and a tank top on, mike had been contemplating if he should play sick or actually go to school. there wasn’t anything wrong with going he just kinda wanted to stay in bed for the hell of it.

‘mike! what are you doing? get up! it’s time for school’ his mom said while she busted through the door.

‘oh, god! why doesn't anyone knock anymore? what if i was doing something you wouldn’t be able to forget?’ he asked as he groaned and got up to put his pants on and his shirt. placing his shoes on and making a quick stop to the bathroom to wash his face and brush his teeth. he checked out his hair and decided it would have to do.

making his way downstairs to see nancy waiting for him as she talked to their mom, he cleared his throat making her turn around—‘i’m ready’ he simply said leaving her to scoff.

‘about time? i’ve been waiting for nearly a hour, come on. i promised to get eleven and max today.’ she said as they walked to the door. mike didn’t have a problem with the two, it’s just they barely talked anymore so it would be awkward.

just because mike didn’t talk to them didn’t mean they hadn’t talked every now and again, just not enough to properly get into the ‘non-awkward’ zone. as they walked out to the car with his book bag slung over his shoulder, they sat into the car and pulled off with the radio music playing.

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when they pulled up to the cabin where eleven had been living with hopper in, he watches his sister honk the horn to let them know she was outside. after a bit to see nobody was coming out she sighed heavily.

‘mike, can you go and knock on the door? we really need to go.’ he groaned but did as he was asked. leaving the door open making nancy frown her eyebrows in confusion.

as he walked up to the wooden brown door, the porch decorated with lights and some flowers, when did they get that? the white curtains visible through the glass window, he held up a hand and knocked.

hearing noise going on along with music he went to knock once more but we stopped when the door opened quickly to reveal someone he’s never seen, ever, before.

she wasn’t too short but not entirely as tall as him, she had e/c eyes and h/c hair. her hair was h/l and she wore it out. the most distinctive thing about her was a scar that ran across from one cheek, over the bridge of her nose and onto the other cheek.

it looked…badass.

he looked at her in confusion until max and eleven came running to the door—‘sorry! we woke up late, we’re ready tho, y/n you ready?’ she shook her head a bit before rushing through the two girls and to her room to put on her shoes and then she came back with a small smile.

‘okay! come on—mike please your getting the floor wet with your drool’ max commented with a scoff as eleven laughed with her and grabbed onto y/n’s hand, interlocking their hands.

he was beyond confused. who is she? where did she come from? when did she get here and why was she so pretty

stammering before he closed the door for them, he walked back to the car and was hearing nancy talking to the new girl—‘hey? uhm, eleven?’ she looked at her as she smiled softly.

‘this is y/n, she just got here from the lab…i hope your not mad with giving her a ride?’ eleven introduced her sister who smiled and waved at mike and nancy.

he could’ve sworn his heart just skipped for a second, causing him to turn around in a hurry—‘can we just go?’ he said while staying faced forward.

nancy looked at him from his strange behavior and only lifted her eyebrows in exaggeration before starting to drive off.

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when they got to school nancy shut off the car and let the girls out with mike following—‘thank you..for the ride.’ y/n with her soft voice said with a smile before max and eleven wrapped their arms around both of hers.

mike watched her walk away with the girls as he let his eyes follow them until they went in. his heart was racing and his mind was replaying her voice over and over. what just happened? what was happening…at this moment?

‘wait—so, eleven brought her sister here and so what?’

‘so what? dustin—she has a badass scar, she obviously had powers as well—‘

‘and he definitely kinda likes her already’ lucas interrupted mike who looked at him in a hurry.

‘what!’ he yelled, causing some people in class to look at him.

‘dude, it’s so obvious, you all a sudden want to talk about her for the whole class period? if you want to know her, get to know her then.’ lucas commented while he made it as if it was obvious.

‘it’s not like that, and it’s not that simple, guys we need to get to know about her first, we need to know if she’s good or bad—‘

‘good or bad? dude, we’re not twelve anymore. it’s either she fucks with us or she doesn’t’ dustin laughed a bit while will nodded.

‘plus, you said she was having a sleepover with max? i’m pretty sure she’s already cool enough, eleven wouldn’t just bring someone “bad” with her back here and let alone to school.’ lucas told him as mike only listened.

he couldn’t stop thinking of the scar that ran across her face. it wasn’t red but a lighter color than her original skin color and had obvious smaller circle-like dots on each side that showed she got stitches.

he had to think of a way to know her…for protection purposes of course. why else? will looked at him in a bit of worry and looked at the other two who shrugged.

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later that day mike had been walking the halls around most of the people, he has been in search for eleven, max and y/n practically all day—not to sound weird, but he’d stopped by all the classes. he even left his classes a bit early just so he could get clear views of each classroom and who was in them.

and yet he managed to find her in none of them. that was, until now.

as he walked to his locker and started to grab some books he needed and putting away the ones he didn’t, he backed up and knocked into someone with his back.

‘whoa!’ max yelled out. he turned around in a hurry to see he bumped into y/n, her book had fell on the floor and she looked around as if she were embarrassed.

‘wow mike, not even going to say sorry?’ eleven rolled her eyes as she and max leaned down with y/n who was rushing to pick up her fallen books. mike didn’t know what to do; he just stood there looking stupid as ever, frozen.

seeing there was another book left on the floor next to him he turned to get it, that’s when y/n so happened to reach for it as well. their hands touched as if some romcom was being filmed and he felt like he froze. her hands were beyond warm and her hands soft in his own. he looked up at her as she did the same.

smiling softly she mumbled—‘will you let go now?’ making him awkwardly pull his hand away and let her pick the book up.

‘s—sorry about that, i wasn’t looking and i didn’t know—‘

‘it’s cool’ was all she said before leaving with max and eleven who rolled their eyes once more. he watched as they muttered something to her but he didn’t even think too much about it, he couldn’t get the fact her soft voice sounded so beautiful and calm throughout his mind and it made him want to hear her more, so much that he didn’t even think about what he was doing next.

‘w—wait! uhm, are you new? i saw you earlier but i didn’t know—‘

‘yeah she is now leave her alone’ max said with upset running through and over her face only for y/n to place her free hand on max’s shoulder and smile sweetly—‘no it’s okay, i’m new, yes, and you must be mike?’ she asked, the way she combined her words was obvious that she didn’t know how to really speak, but she did very well.

‘yeah i am, how’d you know?’ he acted a bit dumb, he already knew that max and eleven told her, probably told her about the whole damn school, but he just wanted to hear her talk more.

‘uhm, eleven and max told me—‘ just as she said this the bell rang causing everyone to make their way to class, eleven and max grabbed onto y/n who mumbled the sweetest—‘see you around.’ before making her leave.

he watched her figure disappear throughout the hallway and he turned to look away so he wouldn’t look like a weirdo.

he felt his heart racing, he never felt this—well maybe once when he had a very short lived crush on eleven when they first met and he saw her use her powers, but by short he means a week.

groaned lowkey to himself he walked to class to continue the day. the haunting image of y/n running around his mind all day and clouding his mind in class, stopping him from thinking about anything else. he wanted—no needed, to know more about her, wanted to see her again and wanted her to talk to him again.

he had to come up with a way to accomplish his new task, and nothing stood in the way of completing anything…except maybe his curfew, and eleven…and max.

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‘okay so you want us to do what?’ lucas asked with his eyebrows ground in complete confusion along with dustin who almost wanted to leave the second mike began speaking.

‘i need you to take max out for a date for at least three hours, dustin to make up some bullshit thing where it will hold you guys up for three hours as well, it should give me time to talk to y/n more—‘

‘dude you’ve been on about this shit all day! y/n, y/n, y/n, that’s all we heard, give it a rest’ dustin groaned while will suppressed a laugh, lucas looked between the bunch only to shake his head.

‘nah, it’s okay, i’ll talk to max and we can go to the mall or something—‘

‘you're actually agreeing to this?’ dustin asked, shocked as he looked at will who shrugged, defenseless.

‘i mean, why not? he’s helped you with suzie when you two had that fight, and it’s not like we’ve all asked him for something, so yeah i’m in.’ lucas agreed. mike smiled a bit before letting it slowly drop as he looked at dustin who groaned loudly.

‘okay, okay! fine! fine! i’ll do this stupid shit, i want something in return!’ he said while standing up and making his way to get ready, will mumbled—‘what will i do?’ he said, looking at mike who thought.

‘you stay with dustin and if eleven tries to make a leave you stop her at all cost’ mike said with determination. will nodded and turned to follow dustin.

‘what if max tries to leave? you know damn well i can make her do anything, she will beat me’ lucas said with a dead face expression.

‘then i’ll leave a bit earlier, it should be enough time anyway’ mike said with a slight grin with the thought of y/n and him talking more.

‘and how will you even get to y/n?’ he asked another.

‘i’ll go with you guys, hide and go, or something? i don’t know i might wait here’ lucas nodded before leaving and the three of the boys making their ways to the cabin.

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after a bit of time passed, he had assumed it was a good time to head over, he had the idea of pretending he was there for max and eleven, knowing they’d be gone, but when he saw they weren’t he would wait on them to get back.

what he was going to tell them was he needed help on the homework assignment. walking to the cabin seeing a soft light alluded from the window, he cleared his throat and fixed his eyebrows, hair and clothes. his hands rubbing over anything and making sure it looked good, god he hoped he didn’t have anything on his face he couldn’t see, let alone his teeth.

walking up to the house he stepped onto the wooden flooring and hesitated before knowing on the door, he waited a bit, hearing the faint sound of music playing only for it to turn down.

‘h-hey! max? you there? it’s mike’ he faked asked for another name besides y/n’s knowing she was there.

‘oh! hold on!’ y/n yelled while. not too long after the door opened and the smell of sweetness hit him in the face.

‘oh, mike, what are you doing here?’ she asked with a small smile, she wore white shorts with a tank top and fuzzy socks, her short hair out and all over. she looked amazing.

‘yeah, i was just looking for max and eleven? we had a homework assignment and i needed their help, were they here?’ he knew the answer.

‘oh, no. but you can stay until they are back?’ she told him but it came out more like a question. he smiled but tried to play it off as good as he could—‘what? oh no; i can’t i don’t want to play up your time, i can just go home and just come back another day—‘

‘no, mike, stay. it’s okay’ she smiled while reaching out for his arm and pulling him into the house the was filled with sweetness and the warmth of the fire and something being cooked in the kitchen.

‘okay’ he said with a smile. looking around as y/n walked back to her kitchen she placed a mitten on and opened the oven, pulling a pan out and placing it on the counter.

‘what are you making?’ he asked as she looked down at the food and was pleased with him of delight—‘just french toast but i didn’t know how, hopper wasn’t here and i guess this was how?’

‘oh, i thought you usually make that on the stove? in a pan…but i guess you can make it like this too’ he laughed a bit before walking over to the kitchen, in the pan was stacks of bread that was toasted pretty good for being made.

y/n smiled with delight as she clapped her hands together, walking over to the cabinet to open it and grabbed the syrup, powdered sugar and placed them onto the counter next to the freshly made toast.

walking to the refrigerator to open it and grabbing out blueberries and strawberries. when she had everything she slowly started to combine the rest of her meal. and the finished product was actually pretty good.

ur had the right amount of everything—more syrup but that was okay.

getting a fork, he grabbed two and handed one to mike who looked a bit shocked but grabbed it nonetheless. putting her fork into it and getting a bite, she ate and hummed with the flavor.

‘have some!’ she encouraged mike who shook his head—‘no, no, it’s okay! i just had dinner—‘

she rolled her eyes and placed her fork down, grabbing his and getting a bite for him then placing it next to his lips—‘here’ she mumbled, he looked down at the fork and then her to see she wore a smile.

it was beautiful—she was beautiful.

opening his mouth just enough for her to place the food into his mouth he ate and hummed with agreement that the food was good, he got lucky and had a blueberry on his piece.

‘you like it?’ she whispered, scared that he didn’t. he nodded with a smile and she squealed a bit before getting more for herself with her own fork.

her reaction to his approval made him want to say and agree to any and everything she asked. he watched as she ate a bit more and he leaned against the counter—‘so, what were you going to do until they got back?’ he wanted to ask her to watch a movie but didn’t know if she had anything else planned.

‘we can watch a movie?’ she read his mind perfectly .

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the two of them went back to her own room, he was expecting the two of eleven and her to share but it didn’t accrue to him that there were two rooms in the house, he expected hopper to take one and then to take the other but he guessed they both got lucky and had their own while hopper stayed on the couch.

walking to her room her was met with a very good set up, there was a rug in the middle of the wood floor with her bed on the left side of her room, the window on the side of her bed and in the middle of the wall.

she had a bedside table with her lamp, a plant, a book and a mug on it and her dresser with more things all over, she had a tv that sat on its own stand across from her bed.

her room was clean, and it smelt just like her, sweet and warm, a smell of soap as well.

walking over as she held the pan of toast she placed it down on her bed and parted for him to sit down which he quickly did. watching her every move, y/n walked over to the tv and slipped in a vhs tape, pressing play only for the movie to be one of the ones his sister watched endlessly—‘wait is this pretty in pink?’ he asked with disgust but tired to hide it.

‘yes! it’s my favorite—do you not like it?’ she noticed his face held displeasure but he quickly fixed it.

‘what? no! i love this movie! i love how she wore pink…’ he mumbled as y/n smiled and let the movie play out. he didn’t even pay attention to the movie, how could he when he sat right next to the prettiest girl he’s ever seen.

he watched as she would laugh occasionally and eat a bit of her food. the whole pan didn’t get eaten but he contributed to some of it, it going from full to half gone.

a scene of the main girl—andie and duckie were having a argument about blane—‘it’s just, he’s gonna use your ass and throw you away, god! i would’ve died for you’ the character confessed. mike didn’t know what or why, or even how he found himself getting into the movie.

looking at the side to see y/n looking at him only to quickly look away at the tv, she bit her lip and took a quick bite. he felt his face grow red and grinned, looking back at the tv. a new scene played where she and duckie were holding their heads together as they talked and joked, deep down mike imagined what it would be like it if were him and y/n.

his heart raced when he noticed how close the two suddenly got, the food placed on her bedside table and the only thing on the bed being the two of them. somewhere towards the end is where she finally kissed him. mike couldn’t help but let his hand set up and push its way to y/n who noticed but didn’t do anything to stop it.

his pinky touching hers and lifting up and linking with her own, y/n inhaled sharply and smiled a bit as the movie started to end. looking down at their hands, the two let their eyes meet.

‘your uh…your very pretty’ he said with his face red. she smiled warmly and mumbled—‘your pretty too’. he knew her saying this made his face look like he was head smashed in a whole tub of tomato sauce.

clearing his throat when he felt it almost close, his heart racing he noticed her looking him in the eyes and at his lips, he two did the same.

before he knew it, y/n began to lean into him—he knew she probably didn’t know anything about kissing and to be fair neither did he, he only watched them in movies and would sometimes kiss his little sisters injures to make her feel better but he never, ever, placed his lips on someone else in a romantic way, let alone a kiss.

the two leaning in closer, so close that her breath was softly fanning over his lips, he felt a faint feeling of her soft lips, this urging him to press his against hers, she inhaled sharply and didn’t know what else to do, but him seeing enough movies, started to move his lips, her following.

the softness of her lips and the syrup as her lip gloss intoxicated him, her taste being everything he could imagine. the way she spoke, smiled and hummed. he didn’t imagine anything more than this—beautiful.

he pulled apart to let her breath but quickly pressed his lips against hers once more, his hand now making way up to her cheek and holding it lightly, her skin soft to the touch. he heard a faint sound coming from her causing him to kiss her more roughly.

a sudden tug on his bottom lip that was revealed as her teeth pulling it only to go back—grunting he kissed her more until he ran out of breath, his lungs screaming for air—pulling apart with hesitation he felt her kiss his lips with quick kisses.

he licked his lips and smiled as she opened her eyes, him looking over at her scar as the two of them both smiled and laughed a bit, their heads being pressed together like in the movie.

pulling apart slowly, he reached up to touch her scar—‘how’d you get this?’ he asked a bit scared but it washed away when she let her own hand move up and touch his.

‘i was it, with glass.’ he was a bit shocked but expected it hearing the stories told by eleven about the lab.

‘hm, you look pretty badass though’ he complimented. her eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

‘badass?’ she mumbled. she didn’t know what that word even meant, was it an insult?

‘yeah badass, y’know? cool, it looks cool’ he told her,he could visibly see her relax and smiled sweetly as she leaned in to kiss him again only to hear—‘y/n!’ eleven was home, and from the sound of it max was back too.

‘where are you?’ the damn door was open, almost running to get up and slam it, y/n used her power to slam the door and rushed to get up—‘i’m getting dressed!’ she yelled before ushering mike to get up.

‘what do i do?’ he asked, scared for his damn like—max and eleven on him? he’d rather die right here and right now.

‘there’ she whisper shouted while pointing at the window, rubbing over to it and try and open it only for it not to budge he pulled away and to her only for her to use her powers again and open it without effort, he felt embarrassed but nonetheless went through it.

landing on the crunch of the leaves, he turned to her and she still held the door shut, looking at him through the window, the two face to face.

‘i’ll see you tomorrow?’ she asked for reassure.

‘at school, i’ll be there’ he nodded, she smiled sweetly, leaning in as he did too, then sharing one last sweet and savory kiss before he pulled apart and left her. she shut the window and he was met with lucas, dustin and will.

they all calmed once seeing he was out of the house alive—‘you good?’ lucas asked him as mike nodded, a smile on his face.

‘dude they totally kissed’ will told him with a laugh as they all looked at mike how he was beat down red.

‘shut the fuck up’ he yelled at them as they laughed. he himself hiding a smile at the thought of y/n.

[flymetosnarryland]

My Snarry WIPs' list.

I would like to share something. My Snarry WIPs' list, yup. Why? I always felt weird writing about myself and stuff I do, but I'm processing changes and thought I can share not only art, lol.

How many project are you working on? I'll dive into couple of mine:

Date with a Star - a Post-War romantic comedy. Harry is in love with Severus, Severus secretly loves Harry. Both are too scared to say what they feel to not lose their friendship. A friend in need asks Harry for help and this is where the wild ride with dumb dating TV-show starts. Especially because Harry don't know that the same friend-in-need blackmailed Severus to get him into the same show too. This is actually a second Snarry fic I ever started to write, inspired by dating TV-show from 1992. I remember that when the idea for this one hit me, I was laughing for a good hour (that TV-show was absolutely ridiculous). And I still feel a pinch of positive embarrassment when think about what's going on there. In fact this story made me want to learn how to translate my wiritngs into English. It's half written and translated too. I really have to finish second part.

Infraction - my first monster fic. My baby. Crime (serial killer), slow burn, Muggle AU featuring Marauders and Death Eaters, political sheananigans and Severus' old flame. I have entire story written out from beginning to the end. What's more... with an ending that allows me to dive into second book (I'm excited lika a child) including the initial idea for it, ahh. Every time I think about Infraction, I feel butterflies in my stomach and a tear comes to my eye, damn. However, the entire project requires a huge amount of work. And a few modifications that I finally have to do to complete the first stage. It's not simple, though. I regret a bit that I released the cover, prologue and first chapter. I was prematurely carried away by the joy of creation, but that's okay. Going to fix it all in time.

In the Moonlight - working title. Something I planned to write for last year's Snarry AUctoberfest, but the beast got bigger, lol. Crime (kidnapping), Muggle AU - my great weakness and, most importantly, inspired by the movie Bodyguard (the one with Whitney Huston). Much like Infraction, this fic is fully planned and scripted. I can't believe I managed to do it. I wrote 1/4 of the whole thing and even have the lyrics of original song that Harry dedicates to Severus, although I don't know anything about music at all (an elephant stepped on my ear).

In between - a drawing series. Harry and Severus in a cute/fluff version. Post-War and happy life, because that's what they deserve!

First time - Drama/Romance, Muggle AU (gosh, yeah, again!). This is a project I want to do 50/50 as a fic/comic. A few works and dirty sketches have already landed here. I have a little dream of writing something that includes e-mails/text messages. In general, a romance that started online. Aren't Harry and Severus purfect for this? (Plus doing art in colour for this project was a test I wanted to start before 3B.)

3B - a Vampire fic, yessss. Can you believe that once I said, I'll never ever write or do anything connected to vampires? Hehe, now I'm in the middle of it, fully commited and over the moon. A bit dark/angsty story with a bonus: illustrations. Crime (more like, cri-me a river, lol; I mean, again? Yup xD), Post-War, a few intrigues, even a SnarryWedding o_0 gosh. That is another thing I said: "No, that's not going to happen." I guess, I fell on my head since now I do everything I promised to myself not to. But it's fun. And bloody, mhaha. I also created my own Vampire Villains and I kinda fell in love with them. Going to sneak into this fic a bit of blood magic mechanics that I created for my fantasy book, too. The picture at the top is one version of the cover sketches ɷ◡ɷ

Adrenaline - working title. Post-War/Drama/Romance and slow burn, a bit of Hogwarts, a bit of Quidditch and for a change Severus will have to show that he wants something more. I mean, I always writing/thinking about Harry chasing Severus. So here the dynamic will change a little. Can't wait for it! The idea for this one was accidentaly born last week and I can't stop it anymore. The inspiration comes from the cover art for Witch Weekly that I did, lol. I had no idea that at the stage of brainstorming, it would turn into another monster. It supposed to be a short story, but, apparently, I'm not good at short stories and it's time to come to terms with it xD I won't cry either because I like Harry and Severus pairing up in different ways/AU's, hehe. And most importantly - creating all these things, even if they don't fully see the world outside my drawer, still gives me great joy!

[dovithedarklord]

Stucked - Part 2

You're trapped in a game and a new threat is lurking.

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Pairing: John "Soap" MacTavish x reader

Tags: Mentions of death, Mentions of blood and gore, Blood and Violence, Sexual Scenes, Alternate Universe, No use of Y/N, Not Beta Read, AFAB Reader

Trigger Warning: Contains violence, blood and smut, and some dubcon. Please, keep that in mind!

⚠️MDNI⚠️

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Author's Note

I watch too many horror movies, so I thought I write a part two for this small story.

I have some more ideas for this, so I might write a few other parts for this.

Have fun! :D

Part 1

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You raise the glass to your mouth with slow movements, and as you take a sip of the whiskey resting in it, you can barely register how the liquid is burning down your throat. Because it's much more interesting to study the man in front of you, laughing with peaceful glee, who, although exudes the role of the innocent host with every pore, he cannot deceive you anymore.

The more you think about it, the more certain you are that you weren't imagining it when Johnny deviated from the script a few hours ago and whispered something in your ear that he shouldn't have done according to your experiences so far. Although the events of the previous night could have served as a warning sign, you’re now sure that something has changed. Somehow, the thread of the story slowly drifted away from the usual path and began to flow in a direction where you have no idea what will welcome you at the end. But one thing is clear. That you won't let this satanic place screw with you. You will fight and outsmart it, even if you have to try a thousand times over.

"Oh, this house is so beautiful, Johnny! I envy you so much that you managed to buy it!" Pam blabbers excitedly, and the warmth of the alcohol permeates her voice, which makes all her enthusiasm fall out much more loudly from her red lips. If she knew that this man was looking for an abandoned cabin in the middle of nowhere, hundreds of kilometers from civilization, so that he could indulge in his bloody hobby in peace, she wouldn't be nearly so cheerful.

"The credit is not mine, one of my friends found it." Johnny notes modestly, and a wide smile appears on his mouth, which you know is his only sincere moment during the entire evening. Whoever this friend was, whom he had referred to so many times during dinners, he hadn't paid his respects so far. And you know that in a game like this, every word the characters utter has weight, each one could be a vague hint to another clue. But you haven't been able to figure out the identity of this unknown friend just yet, and it occurs to you that maybe this little detail is what’s missing to make the picture complete. But you don't have time for that now. You have more important things to do.

The key hidden in your pocket almost burns the skin of your thigh, and every single nerve of yours tenses in anticipation, waiting for the story to reach the point where you can finally jump into action and move forward to discover what this little trinket opens. Because you're convinced that if Johnny hadn't distracted you earlier, you wouldn't have died, and would found something vastly valuable. And now you're not going to let anything hold you back before you expose what's behind the door.

Rebecca's phone rings, and she excuses herself with her usual panicked stuttering, only to rush out the door into the embrace of the dark night. And this means good news, because it seems that despite the oddities, everything continues as it should. And for the first time, you're glad that this nerve-wracking, repetitive drama is happening once again, because it gives you a chance to regain control. At least you hope so.

And you fix your eyes on the man silently, who is deep into a lively conversation with Pam, because the alcohol is almost gone from the bottle, and it's time for him to leave. And you follow his every move with unmoving attention, in case you find something that might indicate that he will deviate from the script again. Of course, you know that when he takes on his less likable persona and tries to kill you with one of his many creative methods, he becomes frighteningly unpredictable. But until you get there, he's like a tame lamb. As far as appearances go. 

"What's the time?" Pam suddenly asks, and you snap out of your sinister thoughts to look at her in bewilderement, because this dialogue should happen much later. Normally she decides she had enough of the night's fun only when Johnny has long since retired to his room. "Jesus, it's that late? I better go get some sleep if I don't want to look like a corpse tomorrow morning!" She yawns, after checking the time on her phone's screen, and you've seen every single movement with which she stands up and stretches out her tired muscles a dozen times, but still, as she throws you a last "good night" and sets off towards the path leading upstairs, your chest fills with icy shock.

Because this way something that has never happened before takes place, and after the disappearance of your two companions, you’re left alone with the man, who waves goodbye to the girl, only to turn all his stressful attention to you a second later. And you just stare at the long-empty stairs, frozen in surprise, as if the steps could answer what the hell is going on here.

"What's wrong, Bunny?" He inquires, and you carefully shift your gaze to him, as the dread slowly crawls under your skin to envelope your conciseness. Although the game initially lulled you into a false sense of calm with how slyly it followed the main storyline again, but now everything continues to change yet again. And due to the rampage of the doubts that arise in your head, you're unable to put the broken pieces of your sanity together and figure out what should you do now that you’re stuck with the enemy who you know is just waiting to gut you like the prey you are.

"I…" You stammer nervously, and your tongue rolls in your mouth with such clumsiness, as if the leaden heaviness creeping into you from terror would paralyze it as well. And it's probably the case, because for a few torturous seconds, you only gape at him with the elegance of fish, before your body is able to recollect itself enough to form coherent sentences. "I just thought she would stay a little bit longer." You hesitate, forcing lightness into your tone, and your mind tries to gather the facade of calmness with desperate speed, because when you see that characteristic, almost pitying shadow pass over the man's face, you know you have fallen into a trap.

"The driver needs the rest too." Johnny remarks simply, and although there is still a remnant of the friendly smile at the corner of his mouth, the cold glint moving into his eyes kills all warmth from his expression. And you know that look all too well to realize you have to flee as soon as possible, because it's usually the last thing you see before he takes your life with his own hands.

Your body moves almost instinctively, and you spring up from the festive table so suddenly, that your chair cries out with a loud creak as it slides backward on the floor from your momentum. You grab the plates stacked on the middle of the table with shaking hands, and you concentrate with every fiber of your being so that your behavior does not encourage the man sitting on the other side to do anything rash. But he just cocks his head to the side lazily and watches you with interest, and even though your eyes are strictly trained on the crumpled napkins, which you hastily pile on top of the cutlery, you can feel his penetrating gaze burning the sensitive skin of your face.

"I’ll clear the table." You declare, and you don't give him time to object, because you’re already heading towards the kitchen to get away from him as fast as possible, since every cell of yours can feel that the storm is approaching, which will strike if you stay next to him. "I'll wash these up! You can go to bed!" You throw it back over your shoulder, and you're unable to expel the desperate quaver that settles in your voice, because you know that you fled from him like a chased animal, and you only dare to hope that he doesn't attach more importance to it. Because even though he seems like a very real person, he's just a fictional character and doesn't have enough self-awareness to properly evaluate your behavior. Or that's what you try to calm yourself down with.

And as you step into the embrace of the empty kitchen, with a soft sigh, you blow out the air that has been trapped in your chest, straining painfully against your ribs until now. You stumble to the counter, and it's almost a strange miracle that nothing falls out of your hands, even though you're gripping the goddamn cheap china with such force that your palms start to ache. You quietly slip the plates into the sink and anxiously peer back behind your shoulders as they land clattering on the metal. Because every little misstep can alarm the enemy, and now you need a minute of precious solitude to work out what the hell is going on.

But nothing else comes from the living room except the warm light of the crackling fire in the fireplace and the motionless silence. A few more nerve-racking moments pass, until your paranoid mind finally calms down and you believe that you don't have to be afraid of Johnny coming after you just yet. And when you’re finally able to tear your frightened eyes away from the door, you turn back to the sink, trying to muffle your panicked panting. You feel the nervous breakdown slowly creeping up on you, and wild dizziness moves into your head, as you realize that last night set in motion a series of events that will slowly tear apart the fragile certainty in which you have navigated yourself somewhat confidently until now. Because even though this place is cursed, it has consistently followed its rules so far, and you have been able to progress in it despite the many pain-filled miseries you had to suffer through. But now something went very wrong, and none of the thoughts running through your head can find an answer to what could have been the little mistake that started this avalanche.

Resting your palm on the cold stone of the counter, you try to pull your mind back from the edge of hysteria, and your fingers grip the cool marble with desperate strength, as hovering on the verge of crying, you try to fight the calmness back into your body with a few pitiful breaths. Because even though every single nerve cell of yours screams and strains against consciousness, you cannot allow yourself to panic now. This is exactly what the game wants. For you to get confused, make a mistake, and die, over and over again, until one day you dive so deep into this nightmare that you won't want to leave because you won't even remember what's waiting outside. It may be trying new ways to crush you, but you must not let it win. That would mean your fall and possible eternal torment.

You need time.

You open the faucet quickly, and as the lukewarm water caresses your fingers, you feel that confidence slowly returning to your battered brain. If you pretend to clean up after the party like a helpful guest, you hopefully drag out this ridiculous task just long enough for Johnny to get tired of waiting and leave. You need him to disappear, because as long as he's out there lurking, you have no chance to investigate further. And you must not forget that your number one priority is to find clues. And no mean tactics can dissuade you from this. Not even when despair seeps into your bones like a contagious disease. 

As you slowly get to work, you mechanically start listing the steps you need to take in your head. You have to go back upstairs and get into the room that the lock hides from you. You have to be on the lookout because you're not sure if it was Johnny and Pam's steamy moment or your own attempt to open the lock that invited the masked killer. Maybe the death flag was activated because you weren't fast enough. Every time you take too long to get to the next safe spot, you die because your clumsiness gives one of your attackers enough time to find you. As if the game would punish your failure with this. But even if you're quick, you can't be completely sure that he won't show up again, so you have to be prepared to defend yourself. If you don't manage to open the lock in two tries, you have to hide and see what happens, so that…

Out of nowhere, the distinctive, woody scent hits your nose, breaking you out of your planning in an instant, but you’re unable to react in time, because when you feel the burning heat of the body snuggling up to you, your hand holding the sponge freezes with the distress of a trapped animal. You forget to breathe from the stunned shock creeping into you, as you see huge hands spread out on the counter from the corner of your eye, blocking your way of escape, as if he knew that your first instinctive thought would be to run. But even if you wanted to, you wouldn't be able to act fast enough, because the moment the man's hard muscles press against your back, you know you have no chance of fleeing, and this painful realization short-circuits your brain.

"My hardworkin" wee Bunny... Ye left so soon." Johnny murmurs, and you feel his deep voice resonating through his chest, because suddenly all your nerves can only focus on the tense proximity with which he presses himself up to you. "Ye didnae just want to run away from me, did ye?"

Anyone would think that it's just kind, friendly interest, but your ears can sense the dangerous edge behind his words, with which he tries to force out the reason you left him alone in the living room so unexpectedly. The soft gurgling of the water echoes in your head like a deafening noise and drums on the metal like an ominous melody, deepening the raw fear moving inside you. What is he doing here anyway? Why didn't he go to sleep already?

"No... I just... " You stutter softly, and even to yourself the whimper that comes out of your mouth seems pathetically weak, but you’re unable to pull yourself together because the panic is awakening with too much force. "I didn't want you to be left with the cleaning after you've already thrown the dinner together." You finally bring yourself to speak, and you hastily swallow the terror rising in your throat, which leads the bitter taste of stomach acid in your mouth.

And you don't like the low, malicious chuckle that sounds next to your ear, because every single hair on your back stands up as you feel the air fanning over your neck in small waves from his amusement. You don’t dare to move, because the danger is too close, and you're afraid that every reckless act will lead to your death in the next moment. And even though you know that you'll get back into the car and start all over again, you can't get rid of the doubt in the back of your head that tells you, from now on you can't be sure about that either…

"It's okay, this will do too." He hums casually, as if giving himself permission to engage in what was born in his twisted mind. And you frown in confusion, because you’re unable to understand what is that he wants to achieve with this. If he wanted to kill you, he would have done it already, and although he's no stranger to playing with you before the main event, he has never resorted to such tricks before. This is different now, this is some threatening new twist that you’re not prepared for.

"What do you mean?" The instinctive question bursts out of you, because the uneasiness arising in your mind creeps onto your tongue much sooner than you could suppress your curiosity. And for a moment it seems as if he might hesitate, because for a few agonizing seconds, nothing happens. But before you can feel the relief that maybe he’ill stop playing this horrible game, you feel the light touch of his nose caressing the sensitive skin behind your ear, and it makes your heart jump in fear.

"I love yer scent." He breathes, and the moan that escapes from his mouth sounds almost longing, when he buries his face in your neck and takes a deep inhale of your hair. And you can only hope that you imagine the shiver that runs through his body. "So sweet. Full of fear." He grumbles, and goosebumps rise reflexively on your back, as you feel the burning touch of his lips on your skin, which makes you light-headed for a moment, and the world starts spinning with you from confused panic.

"Johnny, what the…" You gasp and try to make eye contact through the glass of the window in front of you, but you regret it soon enough. Because when the gaze of his reflection flashes on you, you see nothing but darkness in them, as if the deepest recesses of hell have moved in those beautiful, vivid eyes. In the yellowish light filtering in from behind, he looks like an inhumane shadow as his strong figure towers over you, and you feel pitifully small in the embrace of his body swelling with strength. He would be able to break all your bones with one light movement, like a twig dried in the summer sun. You know, because he already did. Not just once.

And this is enough for the first wild desire to escape to wake up in your body, and when you try to break away from his suffocating proximity with a frightened step, he only presses himself even closer to you, and you involuntarily hiss as the sharp edge of the kitchen counter bites into your stomach. And the horrified realization strikes you, that the hardness that slowly pushes against your lower back is not the product of your imagination.

"Shh, calm down." He coos, with an almost condescending edge in his voice, as if he would want to soothe a terrified child, but you can see the twist of a cruel smile at the corner of his mouth, which makes him look more like a predator that has found its prey. "We're just playin' a little. Ye need to relax too." He states, and you don't like the way a wolfish grin creeps onto his face, enjoying the way your eyes slowly open wide with terror.

Before would be able to register it, one of his hands begins its lazy exploration, and as his long fingers travel along the bare skin of your arm, you shiver from the feigned tenderness with which he touches you. Like a gentle lover trying to ingrain the fine lines of your body onto his memory, but you know him better than that. You know what kind of bloodlust lurks behind that handsome face, you know what kind of beast nests in his chest, which can burst out at any moment and tear your throat open to paint his teeth crimson with your flesh.

"Stop it..." You finally find your voice, and although the wavers from the fear that crawls into your stomach, it rings just loud enough to draw his attention to the fact that you might have started to defy him. But even this little courage fades away when you feel his large palm slide onto your stomach, and as his fingers teasingly caress the top of your pants, the plate you've been clutching falls out of your hand with a reflexive movement, so you can grab his thick wrist in alarm before he could move forward with whatever he wanted to do. The porcelain breaks into a thousand pieces with a deafening clatter, splitting the deceptive silence of the night in two. And for a moment, time freezes, the rustle of the wind blowing outside falls silent, and the shining of golden light reflected in the window fades. As though the continuity of the game would break for a minute. As if you've disrupted something important with your rejection.

"Stop what?" He tilts his head to the side, and although you see a completely innocent expression appear in the dim reflection for a moment, you can make out the disgusting vileness that shines in his eyes. "I'm not doin' anythin' you wouldn't need, bonnie." He says, as if he honestly wouldn't understand what he did wrong by appearing in this godforsaken kitchen.

You're about to open your mouth to protest further, but his free hand finds your neck with such suddenness that all the fleeting sounds of your defiance boil onto your throat at the warning squeeze of his fingers. And even though he doesn't cause pain, it's just enough of a threat to drive the spark of resistance out of your limbs by forcing them into automatic obedience. Because a whole new kind of worry takes over you when he closes every millimeter of the already miniscule distance between the two of you, as though he would try to merge into one with your paralyzed body, and because of the helpless shock, you allow him to continue with this sick game as he pleases.

His hand, which wanders over your stomach, crawls under your jeans with nerve-wracking sluggishness, and you cringe at the roughness of his palm, which only elicits a lustful growl from him. He smooths his mouth on your neck with a wet kiss, and you’re unable to tear your eyes away from the scene unfolding in the window, as if you were just watching a movie, and you wouldn't even experience first-hand how his tongue slowly traces the faint line of the vein running under your skin, in which your desperately racing pulse continues to pump fear into your body. But as you feel his hand suddenly move lower, and his fingers skim along your clit hidden in your underwear, then you tense up with an instinctive shock and try to pull away from him a second later.

He must really enjoy your thrashing, because he thrusts his hips forward with a grunt full of pleasure, and as his cock presses against you, the throaty moans escaping from his mouth burn your skin along with his hot breath. And as his fingers start to write small circles on the sensitive bundle of nerves, and he begins to grind himself against you through your clothes with feverish movements, like a fucking, horny dog, then the anger flares up inside you along with the heat that awakens between your thighs. Because this dirty, perverted scumbag isn't going to distract you from getting out of here with this damn stunt. No matter how troubling it is when the first suffocating wave of lust rushes through your treacherous body.

"Stop, you motherfucker!" An angry cry breaks out of you, and your hand finds a piece of the broken plate in the sink, and you grab it with such speed to stab it into the man's arm emerging from your pants like a venomous snake. He lets go with a painful roar, and this gives you just enough opportunity to break free from his arms and back away from him with hasty steps, fixing your eyes sparkling with poison on him.

However, his surprise doesn't last long, because he pulls out the piece of porcelain pierced in his hand amid colorful curses, only to throw it on the floor, shaking off the angry red drops of blood slowly emerging from the tiny cut. The whole ordeal doesn't seem to be more than a passing inconvenience to him, because the next moment he has that godawful smirk on his face again, which makes your stomach shrink to the size of a tennis ball. But you don't give up, you look for the knife, which is lying on the counter in the exact same way as usual, and grabbing it, you raise it in front of you angrily. This is the first time that you try to fight instead of running away, and the adrenaline rushes through your body with a force that you have never experienced before in your life.

"Look at ye, how brave ye have become!" He exclaims amusedly, and as he takes a few slow, menacing steps towards you, like a big cat ready to attack, you hastily move to the other side of the table in the middle of the kitchen, hoping that this is enough of a barrier between the two of you. "You've let me play with ye so willingly so far... But it's okay. I like how fiery ye are!" He continues his rambling, and you can feel the patronizing edge in his voice, as if it would amuse him and fill him with pity at the same time that you think you finally have a chance to hurt him. And your brain is too busy with your escape, slowly dragging you out of the kitchen, to understand what an impossible statement is hidden in his words. Because then you would have to face the fact that he's not as unaware as you thought.

"Shut up." You snap at him with clenched teeth, and you focus on him with every nerve because you're afraid that if you lose sight of him even for a minute, he'll throw himself at you and you'll lose all your chances of survival. Even though the logical side of you knows that it would be easier to let him kill you and start this horror again. But the pulsation of fury is too strong in you to yield to the deceptive lure of the simpler path.

"I wanted to taste yer pussy. But I think I'll have to settle for yer blood for now." He taunts cruelly, and now you know that this whole wicked game was just another tool to torture you. Because he always wants the same thing, no matter what cunning methods he uses. He wants to enjoy the sight of your lifeless body. "Maybe next time." He promises, and he charges towards you so suddenly that you just blindly swing your hand clutching the knife at him, and even you yourself are surprised when you succeed in slicing the strong line of his chin in the heat of the moment.

He hisses as fresh blood gushes out in the wake of your attack, and you gain just enough advantage to start running like a frightened doe, bolting desperately from the kitchen's threshold. You run across the living room, out of breath, and from the stress hormones raging in your body, you almost tear the front door open to stumble into the cool night. In your panic-stricken brain, it occurs to you that this will be a bad idea, but you have no other option, you have to trust that the darkness of the forest will hide you from the madman, whose pounding footsteps can be heard behind you, as you rush forward in the thicket and get swallowed up by the tangled cavalcade of trees.

Your pulse thumping on your eardrums joins in as the background noise for your sprint, and your lungs start to burn slowly, as the cold air gnaws at your trachea in the middle of your rush. The leaves crunch under your sneakers, and you don't even realize how the branches dig into your face and tear at your hair, because you have only one goal in front of your eyes: To get as far away from Johnny as possible.

But your escape attempt is short lived, because two hands reach out from behind one of the trees so swiftly that you don't have time to dodge it. They loop around your waist with a vise-like grip, and your mouth opens to a frightened scream, but when you try to free yourself from the shackles of your attacker, you almost feel your ribs crack, as the strong arms wrap around you tighter, pressing you to a massive body with deadly determination.

You glance back in terror, and when you see the skull-like mask, it's too late. One of his hands lets go of you, and even if you had a momentary chance to get away, it immediately disappears when the hunting knife sinks into your stomach. You let out a startled whimper as the agonizing pressure builds when he slowly twists the blade inside you, and you feel the warm, red liquid bubbling out of the torn flesh.

You fall to the ground like a rag doll as your attacker releases you from his grip, and you sprawle out in the mud coughing up blood as the pain shoots through your every nerve. And through the blur of the ever-increasing blood loss, you only dimly perceive how a familiar figure appears next to the masked man, but even hovering on the edge of unconsciousness, you recognize Johnny's cheerful laugh, with which he pats the other killer on the shoulder.

"I almost got her!"  Johnny laments, and with your weak and foggy brain, you can't comprehend the inscrutable emotion in his voice. "Never mind. Next time, it'll be different!"

And when the darkness envelopes you in its weightless embrace, you have the last fleeting thought that this game is taking more and more fatal turns.

~ ° ~

Gasping in alarm, your eyes open in the back seat of the car, and you smooth away the cold sweat from your forehead with shaking hands, as you realize that you're back at the beginning of the game once again. Surrounded by the chatter of your two companions, you try to overcome your disorientation, because dizziness invades your head in a way you've never experienced before, as if you've brought a little of the horror of your previous death with you when you restarted this misery.

And when the dull pain in your stomach hits you, you pull up the thin material of your T-shirt in fear, and your brain goes blank for a fleeting moment when you see what is waiting for you there. A palm-sized black spot spreads across the soft blanket of healthy skin, and you're pretty sure it's not just your imagination playing tricks on you when you recognize a skull slowly taking shape in it. Like a carving of a cruel reminder, so you don’t forget who ended your life this time.

It doesn't make any sense... you've died twenty-four times, yet this is the first time something strange appears on you, as though the game would try to convey something. As if your killer had marked you with his signature... But why?

But you don't have time to ponder on this any longer, because the car stops, and you pull your shirt down in panic to cover the new sign, before it catches the eyes of the two girls and they start asking questions. You could explain yourself, but at this point, you're not entirely sure if it wouldn't start something with another set of fatal consequences.

The girls hop out of the car in the middle of their excited conversation, but you stay put, trying to overcome hyperventilation and regain some semblance of your composure. You need to be more careful, you made no progress yesterday, and if this continues, you will never get out of here. And you can't allow that. Never.

However, when the door opens and Johnny's cheerful figure appears on the doorstep, you know that nothing is going to be all right. Because behind him, a tall figure, whom you have never seen before, slowly emerges from the house. The light of the autumn sun shines golden on his dark blond hair, and although his face is half covered by a black medical mask, you still recognize the threat in the unfamiliar man. Because as those dark eyes settle on you, as you hesitantly step out of the car, every single fiber in your body screams at the same time: RUN!

But you know you can't run away. You're forced to go further in this hellscape because that is the only way to get out. And whoever this new stranger is, he won't stop you. No matter what happens.

[ghastlyfilters]

BETRAYAL !

— “AND I HELD YOUR HAND THROUGH ALL OF THESE YEARS, BUT YOU STILL HAVE.. ALL OF ME.”

pairing; billy loomis x fem!reader

summary; what if your biggest betrayal was by someone you’d held the hand of for so many years? billy loomis was supposed to be a pleasant never ending dream, not a soon to be distant memory turned into your one, true nightmare. (reader is replacing the role of sidney)

author’s note: HI. (i was half asleep whilst writing this and found it in my drafts. after reading it, i’m gonna guess it’s something about the whole ‘betrayal’ thing and the reader not knowing the darker truth behind billy’s motive if he is actually the killer? little does she know lmao. but anyway, take this whilst i go finish some requests and write other content. more reqs are open as always. even when i’m busy, i like writing requests here and there. or i’ll leave them for a bit and come back to em! enjoy this fic that i honestly don’t know why my half asleep self wrote💀)

PLEASE DON’T READ IF MENTIONS OF BETRAYAL, DEATH, OR ANYTHING HORROR RELATED AFFECTS YOU!!

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

A shiver ran down your spine as flashbacks of hearing about the deaths of Casey Becker and Steve Orth came creeping back into your head. Had the killer intended for you to be next? Or were you just another random teen fit into this psycho’s cruel joke.

Everything was happening all too fast. Yes, you were now sat in Woodsboro police station after being taken in for your own safety. But did you truly feel safe?

No.

“Y/n?” A voice called out.

“Y/n??”

You quickly snapped out of your unpleasant thoughts, looking up to see Deputy Riley standing over you, holding out a small cup of water.

“Thanks, Dewey.” You whispered with a weak smile, accepting the water and placing it down beside you.

Dewey let out a small sigh as he put a hand on your shoulder. “Try not to overthink things, hm? We’ll have this all sorted out soon enough.”

You ran a hand through your hair, wincing at the sickly feeling you had in the pit of your stomach. You’d been incredibly nauseous ever since you arrived at the station. No wonder. You were probably still in shock after the events of tonight.

“Y/n, please. If you stress you’ll just make yourself even more shaken up than you clearly already are. Do you want me to get the nurse to check you over again?” Dewey asked.

“No, it’s alright. I’ll be fine.”

Dewey gave you a small pat on the back as he cleared his throat, slowly beginning to walk away.

“I’ll take you and Tatum home soon, kay?” He said, turning around one last time before heading back over to Sheriff Burk.

You resumed to wandering back into deep thought. Yeah, you were shaken up from the whole ‘killer’ part of tonight, but that wasn’t what hurt most.

Billy.

His name was beginning to feel like a distant memory, waiting for you to finally let go of.

‘Expect the unexpected,’ Most would say. But had you really imagined the one whom you thought you could trust the most would dare to hurt you?

Never.

After fighting for your life as the suspected killer tried to make it come to a brutal and bloody ending, Billy came out of nowhere, sneakily checking up on you every night as he had done for the past two years.

His timing was off. Way, WAY too off.

But the minute that damn phone fell out his pocket, you felt your heart stop immediately.

One hour ago, 34 Elm Street:

He was after you.

He was after YOU.

You yelped as Woodboro’s newly, anonymous killer made his move on you. He viciously kicked you to the floor with his large black boots, ready to gut you any second now.

Struggling, you desperately tried to pick yourself up, but it was no use. The killer grabbed a fistful of your hair, bashing your head against the laminate.

All you could think about was your upcoming cruel ending. How you were not going to see the ones you loved ever so dearly again. Tatum would never get to have late night movie sleepovers with you, Stu wouldn’t be able to make you giggle with his constant cheesiness, Randy and his little sister couldn’t ever see that bright smile of yours again whenever you’d go over to their house, and Billy, oh, Billy..

Your Billy.

You’d never get the chance to hear that soft voice of his ever again, almost as light as feathers themselves. The feeling of his undying love would soon be nothing. All the blissful memories you once shared were about to be over. Forever.

Finally, the monster behind the mask raised his sharp blade above you, ready to finish you off once and for all.

You quickly pushed him off you, sending the killer flying to the wall. Adrenaline had began to kick in. You couldn’t just be so defenceless and let him end you like that! You HAD to see your loved ones again. And you made sure this fucker wouldn’t prevent you from doing that anytime soon.

Quickly scrambling to the front door, you rattled the chain only to find it locked. Fuck. He could easily get back up in time whilst you tried to fix the lock. It wasn’t worth it.

Without hesitation, the killer got back up once again, launching himself at you. You ducked under him as he had clumsily managed to get his Buck 120 knife stuck in the door.

You headed for the stairs but knew he was hot on your heels. It didn’t take long for you to reach your bedroom, running over to the phone beside your bed desperately trying to dial 911.

“Shit!” You cursed. That bastard was still on the other end of the line.

Your only option was to contact them through the shitty computer you’d had for years now. The thing was slow, but you hoped it would be fast enough for you to alarm the police in time.

You whipped your head around only to see that the masked murderer was.. gone?

Before you could even stop and think for a moment, Billy rushed up to your window, climbing into the room. Oh dear god, it was like your prayers had finally been answered.

“Billy!” You breathed deeply, rushing towards him as if you were a small, frightened animal looking for your mother.

“I heard screaming,” Billy panicked. “The door’s locked. You alright?”

He watched you struggle to breathe properly out of pure fear. Fast, uneasy breaths. You clung to him, not letting go. Your sharp nails digging into his back. Not that he was bothered, that is.

“The killer’s here. He’s in the house! He’s in the house, he’s got a knife!” You cried, breathing in Billy’s cologne and masculine scent.

“He’s gone.” Billy said with a faint whisper, shushing you as you whimpered in his ear. “He’s gone, it’s alright.”

You were safe. You were in Billy’s arms for crying out loud! Everything was going to be fine.

A crash was heard as something had fallen out of your lover’s pocket, heading straight to the floor. You slowly turned your head around, staring directly at the item that had fell.

The phone.

You felt your throat close as it gave you that sickening, nauseating tingle you’d always hated. Your heartbeat became slower and slower. All you could do was stay in Billy’s arms, frozen out of fear before realisation truly hit.

Billy could feel the difference in your bodily functions, and cocked his head as you looked at him in horror, backing away.

“What?” He asked, his tone concerned.

You stared at your lover with pure disgust. Watching as he grew more and more confused. Your mind and mouth did not respond to his series of questions, demanding to know what was wrong and why you were looking at him with such terror.

Everything appeared to soon be ignored as you were only focused on one thing and one thing only.

Betrayal.

Your heart rate finally picked back up again, causing you to run out of the room. Billy followed behind, but you didn’t care. It wasn’t now until he realised you weren’t just running away, you were running away from HIM.

“Whoa, whoa, wait, wait! Wait, Y/n, wait!” Billy yelled, now full on going after you to get his answer.

You managed to get halfway down the stairs before he stopped chasing you, you could hear him screaming for you at the top of the staircase, leaning heavily onto the banister.

“Wait, wait, wait, WAIT! What’s going on?”

Your heart was in your throat whilst you could not believe what was happening right now. Too much, too soon.

“Y/n, come back!” He shrieked.

“Y/N!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Now, Woodsboro Police Station:

Tears welled up in your eyes as those dark memories of tonight replayed, ones that would never quite leave your head.

“Y/n!” The same voice from your flashback called.

You looked up, slightly wincing at who you saw through the window of Sheriff Burk’s office.

Him.

Billy stared intensely at you from afar through the glass, his eyes filled with nothing but anger and never ending thoughts of confusion.

Yet, something else hid behind those eyes. A dark type of mystery you weren’t ready to know yet.

It was as if your lover felt the same feeling of betrayal you were experiencing yourself. But not betrayal because you’d suspected it was him trying to kill you, something else that was far different. Something worse.

I mean, you hadn’t did anything, right? It was Billy who had made himself look as guilty as he did. Far too suspicious for anyone to believe for the time being. Yet, his aura practically told you he showed no signs of guilt..

You began to sweat nervously as he continued to stare. What if, it truly had nothing to do with Billy? Had timing been your saviour tonight? Was he innocent enough to prove he had only arrived to your house to see you again?

A darker truth lay untold for now. The feeling of betrayal was mutual, but something else just told one a devious message about the other.

Something was coming.

Something, bad.

Something that in reality, was already here..

B

E

T

R

A

Y

A

L.

[skele-bunny]

Shopping. (No CW) Phantom/Aether/Dewdrop

CW - None

Characters: Phantom, Aether, misc Ghouls.

(It's about to be August so that means the Hot Topic is putting out Halloween items. Take Phantom there STAT!!!! Also yes I'm aware Sweden doesn't have a HT, but luckily this is fanfic where anything can be real of I try hard enough.)

(Divider by @ wrathofrats )

"If you could have anything, what would you have?"

It was a simple question, Phantom's face scrunching as he thought, scratching his cheek before looking up at Aether with a giant smile. "I want a new nosferatu shirt! My old one got ripped, remember?"

Aether shrugged in agreement, offering his hand which Phantom took. Papa had recently been given permission by the higher-ups to take his ghouls out for 'enrichment time' he called it, noticing their ever-so-slowly growing anxiety as tour got closer. It was another change to being back around venues when they just got comfortable being home again. So, here Aether, Phantom, and Dewdrop walked around the mall together while the rest of their mates had scattered around to other areas.

Phantom's eyes stayed lit up the entire time, looking around each window view in each store with such genuine curiosity. He's been around stores and humans plenty of times, but it always amazed him at just the amount of new things that seemed to be around every corner.

Dewdrop stood on the other side of Aether, holding his other hand and humming to himself as they walked to a specific store. Phantom's eyes caught it first, gasping and suddenly ripping away from Aether. His hands went to the the glass, smile so wide that the other two were positive if Phantom had his tail still—it'd be wagging like no tomorrow.

"Aether! Dew!! Look, look, look!" He began to jump up and down, tapping the viewing glass. "They have a Michael Myers hoodie!!"

The elder quintessence only nodded, gently shushing Phantom as his tone was a bit too loud. "Yeah! Want to go in?"

"Please, please?"

The sheer joy that overtook Phantom as Dewdrop nodded, his own smile showing. "Go ahead, bug. We'll be right behind."

He gave another squeal before running in, Aether and Dewdrop exhaling before looking at one another. Dewdrop pulled his wallet out first, taking his wad of saved krona out, quietly counting to himself before sighing one more time.

"I have six-thousand... You?"

Aether was quick to follow, mumbling to himself as he counted. "Ten-thousand."

"Ohh, Mr. Moneybags over here." Dew teased, lightly elbowing his mate.

"Yeah, yeah." The quint rolled his eyes. "Since I'm not traveling I don't spend much anymore plus the pay raise for full-time infirmary."

"You know they're going to give us the biggest puppy eyes, right?"

"Oh, I'm very aware." Aether chuckled, leaning down to gently cup Dewdrop's cheek to pull in close for a kiss.

They stayed interlocked, Aether dragging his hands down Dew's blonde hair. When they pulled back Aether felt the fire ghoul nip his jaw, patting his shoulder as he finally began to walk in.

"Just make sure you have enough! You still owe me a dinner date." Dew teased.

Inside the store, their eyes locked onto Phantom as he held a giant wad of clothes but now looking at jewelry. As he smelled his mates, he quickly turned and smiled wide, back to bouncing again.

"They have Scream necklaces!!" They chirped.

"Yes, the movie, not you." Dew poked his nose, taking the wad of clothes from Phantom's hold. It was a giant array of hoodies, long sleeves, shirts, and even pajama pants. "Dear Lucifer, Tommy. What happened to all your other clothes?"

The ghoul simply blinked, his ear giving a small wiggle. "You happened to them."

Aether couldn't help himself as he busted out laughing, cupping his chest as his nose crinkled—Dew's face slowly turning pink before grumbling, knowing Phantom had a point. The bigger of the three coughed before catching his breath, wiping a tear from his cheek.

"Oh that's bloody perfect." He chuckled again.

They began to browse together, Phantom getting distracted as he noticed more crystal jewelry only to walk away as Aether explained they weren't real. While Dew had separated momentarily to look for his own band t-shirt, Phantom continued eyeing the stockings near the clothing rack. He picked out one that had a floral print on white, his ear gave another wiggle before ultimately placing it back. They turned to see Aether touching over a velvet dress, specifically in a small, eyeing the price tag and picking it up. He looked over at Dew, back to the dress, then the little bat next to him.

"Hey, Phantom?" He asked, showing the dress. "Think you could find some cute garters to match this?"

Taking the challenge, Phantom kept his eyes peeled onto the body decor, shuffling through different designs and colors before pulling out black laces. "What about these?"

"Ohh! Those are perfect!" Aether pressed a kiss to Phantom's forehead. "Thank you! Think you're about ready?"

With a nod, the two moved over to Dewdrop who met them halfway, standing in line. As they approached the checkout, Phantom pulled out his coin purse that he had crudely shoved his money in, laying down a hundred and seven krona. He still hadn't fully grasped the concept of money, quickly being saved by his two mates that equally contributed. Two-thousand later, they walked out holding multiple bags just in time to see Sunshine and Mountain walking up, giving their own waves.

"Hey!" Aether gave a smile. "What did you two get?"

Mountain shrugged, showing his single bag. "Just got a new pair of pants."

Eyes turned to Sunny. "I didn't want anything, really! Just glad to get out of the abbey. Oh! But I seen Swiss and Rain by the—" She didn't see Aether and Dew discreetly shaking their heads frantically. "—Crystal store."

Dew rolled his head back while Aether sighed, Phantom lighting up again. "There's a crystal store?!"

"Damnit..." Aether whined, before glaring at Sunshine playfully. "I'm sure Sunny would love to take you! Isn't that right?"

It took the Ghoulette a moment to process before cursing under her breath, before offering her hand to Phantom who quickly grabbed it. "Not at all."

Dew held a smug look while quietly flipping her off, receiving one back as she placed her other hand behind her back.

[cositapreciosa]

Redemption

Alejandro Gillick x gn!reader, (gun wound, blood, the usual for the movies) 1047 words

a/n : super duper self-indulgent Alejandro fic cause I'll write whatever gives me wings at this point. This gif might not be from Sicario but yhlqmdlg Benicio is hot anyway

Tagging the besties-that-might-like-this as usual @narcolini @drabbles-mc @anunhealthydoseofangst

‘’ Stay still, I don't want to hurt you. ‘’

Any more than he already has. Still, it hurts when Alejandro puts his hand on your stomach, hard and warm against your abdomen. The bullet grazed you, thankfully, but deep and bloody, straight in between the Kevlar, slicing through your shirt. You can’t help but jerk when he presses his fingers into your skin, teeth baring in a hiss. It is dusk now, the sun dipping below the horizon, painting the scene orange and red. How long has it been since he left you in this ditch? Why did he even bother to come back?

‘’ You fucking shot me. ‘’

It comes out of you in a cough, as if you can’t believe it yourself. You are probably in shock, you realize, cold and losing blood for what seems like hours at this point. Where is my gun? You taste the blood in your mouth as you speak again. Where am I?

‘’ You fucking shot me. ‘’

You struggle against his hold, opposite hand grabbing his wrist in an attempt to get free. Let me go, you want to tell him, let me be, but it feels like paste in your mouth, dried tongue, you can’t get the words out.

‘’ Stay still. ‘’ He pushes back, and you can do nothing but let him, ‘’ They would have shot you anyway, your cover is blown. ‘’

‘’ Yeah, no shit. ‘’

Every word feels like sandpaper in your throat, scratching on its way out, keeping you from saying more mean and distasteful things. You let yourself fall back against the sand, letting the dust settle again in your lungs. Matt had told you they had caught rumours of your CIA affiliation through the low ranks, but you still went anyway, believing you could work your way through it. Pinches narcos de mierda. Alejandro fetches gauze out of his backpack, pulling you closer to cut the strap of your bulletproof vest with his knife. You feel blood moving down your chin.

‘’ If you heard what they were telling me they would do to you before you got there maybe you wouldn’t be so feisty about this. ‘’

‘’ You threw me in a ditch. ‘’

‘’ And they think you’re dead, you’re welcome. ‘’

He gently wipes the blood off your chin with his glove before turning his attention back to your shirt. It tugs on your skin as it separates from the dried blood, raw, stiff, a new colour from what it was this morning. You let Alejandro turn you to your side, inspecting the wound he inflicted, tucking your face in his elbow as he presses the tissue on your wound.

‘’ You’ve lost a lot of blood, but it’s not that deep, you’ll be fine. ‘’

‘’ I’m surprised they don’t think you’re CIA now- ‘’

You hiss when he starts moving the tape around your torso, pulling it tighter every time he starts another round.

‘’ I guess shooting you was a good move, they don’t suspect a thing. ‘’

Idiots, you want to say, all of them. You remember them dragging your body in the back of a car, carelessly tossed across the seat next to Alejandro, you remember how easy it was to play dead, how cold you were, how the pain made your whole body numb, Alejandro’s hand on your vest to keep you from rolling over as they drove in circles for hours.

‘’ It’s a fucking miracle. ‘’

That he isn’t dead, that you aren’t, that no one caught your whimpers after every bump or Alejandro softly shushing you afterwards. A fucking miracle.

‘’ You tell me. ‘’

He issues no warning as he pulls you up, knees bending, one hand on your shoulder, the other creasing your shirt in a tight grip. His movements are tactical, precise, moving your body in a way that works for him when your whole being can’t seem to follow. Alejandro wraps his hand around your neck as it swings back. You can feel the blood rushes back to your head, feel it in your throat. Hey, he says, stay with me, but the words barely make it to you, everything is thick and foggy and-

Hey, don’t die on me now. The world comes back in a buzz, loud and crackling in between your ears. ‘’ Matt will have my head if you die like this, you hear me? ‘’

His fingers are warm around your scalp, pressing a little, to make sure you really are here, back with him. You notice his eyes for the first time, how brown they are, deep, honeyed, the slight wrinkles that shape between his eyebrows when he frowns.

‘’ Loud and clear. ‘’ You mumble as he steadies you once again.

‘’ Good. ‘’ Good. You can see the relief cross his face, the weight that leaves his shoulder. ‘’ Think you can walk? ‘’

‘’ I don’t know, you tell me. I didn’t shoot myself, did I? ‘’

He scoffs, dismissing your sarcasm, you could mistake it for a laugh, ‘’ I missed for a reason. Let’s get you home, yeah? ‘’

Alejandro doesn’t pick up on your answer, something along the lines of it being a waste of time, that you are cold already, weak. Cállate, he wants to tell you, Cállate, you can do this, let me. He wants to try, for you, for him. And he does, he drags you through the desert, hiding in the streets, makes sure you press ‘right there, hard’ whenever he changes your bandages. His hands slip and hurt, but he does, he has to.

Told you so, he wants to say when he finally sees the bright lights, but he doesn’t. The second he makes it to camp, he brings you to the infirmary first, before Matt, before the men at the gates can ask any questions or take into account the blood that stains both of you. Told you so, but he keeps his mouth shut and tries to forget the way his finger hesitated on the trigger this morning, even when he knew it had to be done, that he hates how relieved he felt when he realized you were still alive.

He hates it, but it is true, it seems pretty clear to him now why he even bothered to come back.

Told you so.