#it just came to me as a vision randomly when i thought about doing a collage for this

[plusvanity]

Thanks to your blog — that I discovered randomly — I got sucked into the whole Mayhem lore. 🥲 I got the general order and gist of the things (especially around the whole mythos that people build over the years) but there is one thing that I can't stop thinking and it just bothers me.

So, we all already know that Varg and Øystein start as friends, good ones at that. Varg admires Øystein meanwhile Øystein thinks they share the same vision music wise, they burn churches together, he defends him from the press (and generally TO ME, it seems like it was Ø doing the heavy lifting and all the work in this friendship but whatever) and so on; until Varg's opinion of him shifted all of a sudden: Øystein became full of flaws, or only flaws at that point, and the tension arises. Many people spoke about how they were kind of fighting for dominance of the BM scene, but really, how much is this a factoid? Yeah Varg can brag alllll he wants about how Øystein was jealous because he was becoming more popular, but to me it's more that Ø was just annoyed by his behaviour, he did not feel threatened of being 'dethroned'; it reads like a fantasy of Varg (that besides, came out of nowhere and all of a sudden in the scene meanwhile Øystein was already a well established personality). I also do not really agree on the stance that Øystein was a megalomaniac, but I'll put that aside.

Varg at a certain point says that he 'listened to a call' where Ø was talking about how he wanted (and would) kill him. Is this even true or pulled out from his ass to justify himself? I only found one source that mentions briefly that he THOUGHT about 'getting to him first' but A) he never really wanted that nor was violent and B) it was a private conversation that got out after his death, and I'm referring to Mortiis.

Either way, it does seem that Øystein was a bit preoccupied when it came to Varg. He wanted him out and most importantly, far from himself. There is also what I'll label as a rumor that Ø was agitated after hearing that one clairvoyant (sprinkle of salt). So why would he EVER open the door to him that night? It certainly was weird and he knew that Varg was dangerous, hence why, among other things, he wanted to put him in jail. And even Varg admits that Øystein was clearly uncomfortable seeing him. Would Varg have killed him even if Øystein never opened that damn door (oh, how I wish!), or would his impulsive anger cool down?

Varg and Øystein started as friends because Varg was looking up to Øystein. I have no doubt that Varg was putting up a mark at first to seem more likeable, to get closer to Øystein and eventually become relevant in the Black Metal scene since back then he was a nobody and Øystein was a well-established personality between their friends. As time progressed, Varg's admiration turned into jealousy and envy since he was an undisclosed egomaniac and wanted to have what his 'mentor' had. Their fight for dominance is not a rumor. It is a fact that led to Øystein's tragic end.

No one can blame Øystein for getting sick of Varg's bullshit and giving him the taste of his own medicine by talking badly about Varg's on his back. I believe their animosity was going back and forth because I think I'm one of the few people who believe that Øystein had a bit of an ego too, because after all he was leading a brand new music scene and he was entitled to his position. I don't necessarily think there is something bad about this because after all he was the one (together with Pelle) who built their own, unique style. Whether he really felt threatened by Vikernes or not, we can't tell for sure.

Varg will use everything in his side of the story to make people believe that he was right all along in what he did and not only that, but he even 'did the right thing' by his delusional, egoistic and envious standards, so, my suggestion is to believe anybody else but Varg. You cannot tell what is real and what is fiction, including the call that he pretends he heard. I would say (with indulgence) that 90% of what he states is pulled straight of his ass. He is a nothing but a pathological liar and that's it.

I believe that Øystein was, to a certain extent, having the thought of Varg doing 'something' against, but when all they ever did was throwing empty threats, how could Øystein be sure that this time Varg means business? He wanted Varg out of his life, that's for certain. Vikernes' actions cause him bad publicity and his shop, Helvete, to close.

Why Øystein opened the door that night, I can only speculate the most plausible answer. It was 3 or 4 o'clock in the morning and he woke up from his sleep, too tired to realize how late it must've been, and answering the door came as an automatic reflex. He didn't know who was waiting on the other side and he was surprised to see Varg there. In retrospect, Øystein would've had the chance to put up a better fight if he wasn't taken by surprise like this, but after all, Varg had a knife on him and this was the surprise element that, if you don't have an equalizer, you've already lost the fight unfortunately.

Varg must've been a madman to drive 5-6 hours in the middle of the night from Bergen to Oslo to kill. I don't think that not having that door open, you would just shrug and be like 'Well, that's it, folks. I'm going home'. No, he would've find a way to get in. It's the adrenaline that brought you there that won't allow you to leave even if you would somehow realize that what you do is gonna cost you a lot of trouble. The impulse is too strong, you can't just walk away simply.

I also wish Øystein never opened that door, but I guess we all wish that.

[anishake]

(x) "Ant&Dec: Would you change anything, looking back? Noel: Would've made sure Liam was a woman.

Noel: See, I've always wanted a baby sister when Liam was born, which is why I've always hated him. Saying that... He's grown up into a fine woman, so... maybe I've got a sister."

Pairing: Noel Gallagher x Liam Gallagher (Genderbent) / Fanfic series / Rating: Various

By @savageandwise

[wroteclassicaly]

A/N: Uh… I might do a part two to this? But it randomly came to me and I wanna try something different.

Warnings: Language, hurt, angst, unrequited/one sided feelings, sadness, anxiety, mentions panic, body issues, and mentions self-esteem problems.

You’re hunched over the counter, skin taunt over your knuckles, bones sharp enough to shred through. A hot, sticky wetness resides in your lungs, the pain of its steam burning in your throat, settling over your lungs. You cannot see through the haze of blurred vision, half-assed attempts to wipe copious amounts of moisture going nowhere. Only when a heavier set of footfalls fall outside of the door and it’s yanked open — you finally cease some panic. Your manager, in all his greasy glory, clings to the doorframe, looking into the storage closet to make sure that you’re alone.

Obviously, because who would go in here with me? Steve never fucking will. He’s probably had other girls in here…

Keith is speaking, sounding like his voice is somewhere above the surface of murky waters. But you make it out. “Hey, uh. I heard what happened with Harrington back there. Let me take you out, show you how a real man can treat a lady?”

If Keith wasn’t so disgusting towards the female population, you’d feel bad for him, but to sink yourself as low as to only get an offer from him? And right after HE saw you get rejected by your best-friend?

Nip it in the butt before it continues. You have to work here, after all…

“No, thanks, Keith. But I appreciate it.” You force a smile so fake that it burns the corners of your mouth.

He snorts, shaking his head. “Fine, but know that if Harrington side stepped you, you shouldn’t be so stingy with standards.” The comment stings, pricks your heart, tearing it apart to bleed out. “I’ll be in my office if you change your mind, sweets.”

One nasty wink later, and he’s back in his office and you’re out the door. This is all too much. You have to go. It’s break time, you thank fuck for, glancing at the clock, but you can barely think, your head pulsating with a pressing pound between your eyes. You punch out for lunch, gathering your purse, and you’re coming out as Robin is talking rapidly to Steve, seemingly scolding him at the front desk.

She’s come in for her shift. They stop immediately, features softening, too observant for your liking. You do what you do best — change the subject. Steve isn’t going to care anyways, so you might as well say it. It’ll help you get outside quicker.

“I have a fucking headache, I’m hungry, and Keith just hit on me, so I’m taking my break.” You blow out a wobbly breath.

It’s also Steve’s break, and he starts to remove his vest. Is he serious? You are so beyond outer limits right now… Granted, you take your breaks together every single day, but after everything that just happened in the past hour?

Steve’s jaw clenches and his body tenses at what you tell them, pausing his removal mid-way, inclining his head to look back in the manager’s office direction. Robin looks mad, tongue clicking as she looks over at Steve and shakes her head. You let them go, about halfway to the door before the bell rings and the beautiful girl that Steve’s been after forever to get a date with — approaches. She’s looking extra special, all dolled up. Sundress, heels, makeup, bracelets, a dainty necklace on her perfect shape.

It’s things you know Steve loves, because it’s also what you’re wearing. It made you feel good, but it was out of your element, yet you’d thought his hints, his behavior with you — Robin and Nancy had encouraged that those things were MAJOR signs. The girl goes straight for Steve, reaching for his massive hand. You’re frozen, having been waiting on him, despite all of your instincts telling you not to. Robin is looking at you with sympathy, something you’d rather never see directed your way again.

The girl, she’s acting as if it’s just her and Steve here. “I know you said this is your lunch hour. Looks I’m free if you still wanna hang out?” She swings her purse in her free hand. He’s been after her for a while — for sex or emotional connection, you aren’t sure. But what you do know, is that doesn’t want you at all.

And you can’t fault him, no one can. As his friends, you should worry about his happiness and dry yourself up, not making him feel guilty for not returning what you have felt for a while. That doesn’t mean that this isn’t pulverizing your heart, dusting your bones to ash, dashing all hopes and future fantasies, telling yourself he did like you, letting yourself believe — it does not hurt any less. It hurts more than you can bear. You feel his mossy eyes filter into your direction, meeting over her head, his nose wrinkling, that tick in his jaw that occurs when he wants so badly to speak, but can’t.

You’re caught in the moments that happened before any of this… Body on fire, doused in flames, tumbling down a cliff side of revelations. You weren’t even sure if reality existed, or if you were feeling too much of every emotion to comprehend anything.

“I really like you, Steve. And I think that, maybe, you like me too?”

“I do.”

“Yeah?”

“More than anyone, probably.”

“Me too.”

“But I don’t… We’re really close, honey.”

“That’s a good thing though, obviously. Right?”

“It’s always gonna be a good thing, trust me. I’ve never had someone in my life like you before.”

“Sooo. What about tonight?”

“I’m so sorry. Any guy would be lucky to have you. And I care about you, more than anyone, but I just… I don’t feel the same way.”

Drowning in an ocean of pity and panic. You’re back to present, watching him see those moments through your eyes, which have now glossed over with tears. He’s trying to be respectful, not accept her in front of you, keep things okay, show he won’t make it weird because of your confession. Normal. Keeping his lunch date with you.

You don’t fake your smile, hand on the door, nodding several times. He doesn’t have to feel guilty, he doesn’t have to sacrifice his happiness. You love him, even if he isn’t in love with you. And that’s all that matters. He deserves this.

When Steve glances down towards the door and back up, the bell is fading against the glass, but you’re gone...

Your sundress blows in the wind of a fresh summer storm as you leave the store behind to walk to the deli, your tears cresting, before rising in a tempo that you don’t control. Your chest feels as if there’s a thousand pounds crushing you, every negative self-image colliding, thoughts flowing free, self-loathing — it all lets loose. And before you know it, you’re sobbing in the middle of the street over Steve Harrington…

[pasukiyo]

Hey! I really love your Riddle fics :)

Could we maybe get one where reader is in a relationship but has an attraction to Tom that she keeps under wraps? Like she tries to hide her crush on him but gets caught staring at him in class & etc- So he decides to do something about it.

It can be a little angsty too!

Hope it doesn't sound dumb, the idea just randomly came to me and I really like how you write for his character.

THIS CARNAL TETHER

tom riddle x f!ravenclaw!reader word count; 4,695 warnings; cheating!, fingering, smut! notes; vincent welch is not in canon, he is just an oc i made up for this particular fic! summary; you should've been over this crush years ago. but it's hard when tom riddle plagues your every thought and your boyfriend falls flat in the places you just knew tom wouldn't...

 All is quiet in the Ravenclaw common room, save for the scratching of her quill against her parchment and the fire crackling in the hearth in the room’s center. It’s well past curfew and many are already in bed, but she stays awake, lounging on one of the many sofas, her Charms homework in her lap. Moonlight spills into the common room through the many windows and her parchment is illuminated solely by the lamp at her side. 

 Sleep weighs heavily on her eyelids and she pauses her scribbling to dig her knuckles into them, mouth parting to make way for a yawn. She stretches out her weary muscles, rolling her neck around in her shoulders just as footsteps permeate the once silent common room and she blinks through her tired vision as Vincent Welch marches towards her, a scowl twisting his lips. 

 She raises an eyebrow as he plops down onto the space on the sofa beside her with a huff, lolling his head back until it hits the top of the seat. His eyes flutter closed and she grants him this small moment of peace until her curiosity can no longer be tamed. 

 “Is everything alright?” She asks and he sighs, threading his fingers through his locks of golden brown, pushing them away from his face. He doesn’t reply at first, but his lids peel back open and he locks his fingers over his stomach, blinking up at the stars glimmering on the ceiling. 

 “That damn Tom Riddle is going to be the death of me,” Vincent mutters, his clipped tone dripping with venom. She stiffens at the name and clears her throat, carefully placing her quill down onto the parchment in her lap. “Oh,” she simply says, casting her gaze down to the floor, unable to meet her boyfriend’s eye. 

 She can feel Vincent hastily move beside her and she wrings her hands together, willing the blood biting at her cheeks to dwindle. 

 “Ran into him earlier in the prefects’ bathroom and do you know what he said?” He asks and she presses her lips together, humming, prompting him to continue. “He thinks that I am not adequate enough to be a prefect. He thinks Dippet made a mistake in giving me the title,” Vincent scoffs and she can see the shaking of his head through her periphery. 

 Still, she does not yet turn to fully see him. 

 “I think the mistake Dippet made was making him Head Boy,” Vincent continues, leaning back into the sofa again. “It certainly didn’t aid in reducing his ego, don’t you agree?”

 She tries, really tries, to not let visions, even thoughts of Tom Riddle into her head, especially not with Vincent sitting right beside her. It’s entirely inappropriate, as well as it is unethical to think of another man when already committed to another. 

 And yet, she still cannot help the way her heart skips a beat when she thinks of the Head Boy like she’s a silly little first-year again, giddy and enthralled with her first crush. She’s crossed this bridge many times before but still, she teeters in the middle because no matter how hard she tries to continue pushing forward, to finally forget Tom once and for all, there’s still a part of her that desires to look back, to run back, even. 

 And how foolish this crush has made her, since Tom never so much as acknowledges her. In all her seven years at Hogwarts, she could only picture a handful of times where Tom has so much as glanced her way, and still, she finds herself plagued by wicked thoughts of betraying Vincent, of sullying whatever reputation she may or may not have had to indulge herself in these fantasies. 

 She feels sweat collect on her hairline and suddenly, everything is too much. The fire crackling in the hearth is too much, the velvet cushions of the sofa is too much, Vincent’s presence at her side is too much, these nefarious thoughts of Tom Riddle are too much, and all she really longs for is her bed, for sleep to overcome her so that she may escape her own mind for even just a moment. 

 She suddenly rises from her seat, clumsily hugging her parchment to her chest and Vincent stares up at her curiously, a hint of concern in the mossy green of his eyes. “Are you alright?” He asks and she notices his hand rise, reaching for hers and she moves away, albeit non-discreetly. 

 “I’m going to bed,” she announces and she has to swallow the lump in her throat, taking in a deep breath. “Sorry, I’m just… feeling really tired,” she murmurs, which isn’t exactly a lie. “I’ve been working on this for a while, I think it’s starting to make my head ache a bit,” she adds, breathing an awkward laugh. 

 Vincent blinks, his lips twisting in pity and he reaches for her hand again, grabbing it before she’s able to step away again. Her breath hitches, but she doesn’t think he notices as he stands, leaning in to press a chaste peck to her lips. 

 “I hope you didn’t stay up for me,” he mutters, a guilty look creeping upon his face as his thumb soothes over the back of her hand. 

 She didn’t, but she appreciates that sentiment all the same. 

 She nods and forces a tight-lipped grin, ineptly pulling away from him and backing away. 

 “No, no, I just… well…” she trails off, cursing herself beneath her breath for being so ungraceful with her escape. “…well. Goodnight!”

 She hastily turns, making her way towards the staircase and not picking up her pace until she’s certain she’s out of his sight. 

 Needless to say, she’s still plagued with thoughts of Tom Riddle when she wakes the following morning. She feels awful for it and it even makes her feel sick to her stomach, so much that she skips breakfast altogether. She hurriedly scribbles down the rest of the answers to her Charms homework before she breaks for class, although the entire walk makes her feel even worse, considering this is a class she knows Tom Riddle will be in. 

 Her heart pounds against her chest as she climbs the steps down, leading to the Charms classroom. The majority of the class has already arrived, but she keeps her head ducked as she makes her way towards her seat, for she knows Tom Riddle is just on the other side of the room. Vincent sits next to her and he grins at her arrival, leaning in to press a kiss to her cheek as he bids her good morning. 

 Her heart should flutter, her stomach should be doing somersaults, she should want to kiss him back. But her body was reacting to all the wrong reasons— because she could see Tom Riddle just from the top of her vision. Her heart should beat for Vincent, her stomach should do flips for Vincent, she should want to kiss Vincent. 

 The warmth in her cheeks should be for Vincent, but instead, they warm for the boy who does not care for her, for a boy who has never even blinked twice at her. 

 “Morning,” she replies, trying to smile but turning away before he realizes she’s not. The professor enters and she’s saved from further conversation with Vincent for the time being but still, she fights a battle to keep her eyes away from Tom. 

 She tries, she really does. But it’s so hard when she envisions the pinkness of his lips, the dark, inviting obsidian irises that seem to absorb the pupils in his eyes, the stony expression that seems to always be on his face, the one where his brows are knit and his jaw is set. It’s hard when she thinks of his hands and how his fingers look curled around his quill, how they move when he writes, how the veins on the back of them protrude when he stretches them a certain way. 

 Surely one look would not hurt, right?

 Just a swift glance, a fleet of the eyes, nothing more. Her gaze would not linger, only graze, and it would be for only the smallest of seconds, so nobody would notice. 

 Even as she tries rationalizing it, a small voice in the back of her mind protests, reminding her it is unwise, foolish even. She pushes the thought away and blinks up across the room to where Tom Riddle sits anyways, and she’s mesmerized. 

 He’s completely focused on the professor, transfixed on whatever lesson he was currently teaching (she hadn’t been paying attention, so she wouldn’t now.) His hands are just as she imagined them moments before— his fingers are wrapped around his quill, veins jutting from the skin on the back of his hand. 

 His lips are as pink as she remembers them, although they glisten now, as if he’d been swiping his tongue between them. And his eyes— they are as black as night, as bewitching as any spell in the book. She stares at them now and wonders how lost she might get in them, when—

 “Ahem.”

 She blinks herself out of her trance and finds that her professor now stands before her, a brow raised expectantly. 

 “Yes, Professor?” Her voice is small with embarrassment and the evidence comes in the form of blood biting her cheeks as she sinks down into her seat. “Your homework?” The professor asks and she clears her throat, dipping her chin as she rummages through her bag, fishing out the piece of parchment. “I apologize,” she says, handing over the scroll. The professor simply huffs, stalking away. 

 When he moves, she finds that Tom Riddle’s eyes are set on her, and those pink lips that were so tightly pressed in a firm, thin line before were now quirked to one side. His eyes, dark as they are, illuminate with something she can’t quite place— curiosity? Amusement? Humor?

 No matter the case, mortification seeps through her skin and she sinks further down into her seat. She feels Vincent lean into her shoulder, his breath fanning over her ear. 

 “Are you alright?” He asks in a whisper and she grumbles, pressing her lips together as she avoids looking across the room at Tom altogether. She settles on the wooden desktop before her and she reaches out to fiddle with the feather of her quill. “I’m fine,” she clips. “Just tired.”

 Vincent doesn’t attempt to question her further, more due to the fact that the professor was talking again rather than because of her behavior. She tries to still the beating of her heart as images of Tom looking at her flood her mind— it was driving her mental that she couldn’t quite decipher what that gleam in his eyes meant. 

 It was all she could ponder, and she was grateful that class ended before the professor had a chance to call her out again. 

 Vincent speaks beside her but she doesn’t hear a single thing he says as she swiftly gathers her things, tossing the strap of her bag over her shoulder, making her hasty exit. She cannot be in a room with Tom Riddle any longer— the mere presence of him had her acting foolish. 

 She makes a sharp right as soon as she leaves the classroom and begins her descent down the short staircase there, but she freezes where she stands almost as soon as she rounds the corner. 

 Tom Riddle lurks in the shadows of the staircase, arms crossed over his chest, back pressed to the wall. She presses her lips harder together to stifle any sounds that may emit as she turns, fully prepared to walk back up the stairs and find another route to her next class. 

 That is, until he speaks.

 Her name drips like oil from his lips and she feels like she’s been set ablaze. She’s never heard him say her name before, never even heard him fully acknowledge her before. It’s like a symphony and a cacophony to her ears all the same and she’s uncertain whether her heart skips beats out of fear or in delight. 

 Her mouth opens and closes and she feels stuck to the very ground she stands on as words try but inevitably fail to escape from her lips. She settles on shakily saying, “Tom,” feeling her very bones rattle as if just speaking his name caused some sort of internal earthquake. 

 Her arms drop to her sides and she brings her hands together to thread her fingers through one another. Tom stalks closer and the lingering fear in the back of her head that someone— that Vincent— could see them now has her shaking, but she’s incapable of moving. So, she allows him to draw near, even if it feels like with every step he takes, she comes closer to bursting. 

 “Is everything alright?” He asks, his voice dropping one sultry octave, and she thinks to herself if she had a galleon for every time someone has asked her the very question over the past twenty-four hours, she would be rich. 

 Her throat constricts around words she tries to speak and her mouth suddenly feels like a desert, so she settles on nodding her head in reply. Tom Riddle clicks his tongue as he finally comes close enough that he towers over her, like the moon in an eclipse. She tries to still the quivering of her jaw, but she’s certain her efforts come to no fruition, for those eyes as black as coal scour her face, the corners of his lips twitching in amusement. 

 “You seemed awfully distracted in class today,” he continues, speaking so matter-of-factly, she almost forgets she’s being interrogated. “It is unlike you, you know. To be so… sidetracked.”

 Her chest begins to rise and fall as she tries to will herself to breathe, and words muster on the tip of her tongue. This time, she finally speaks. 

 “Forgive me, Tom,” she says as steadily as she can manage. “But I fail to see how my performance in class today is any of your concern.”

 She’s just as surprised at herself as he is when she says it. His brows raise ever so slightly and she thinks: this could be her chance to escape, to rush down the last remaining steps and be rid of the nightmare. She makes her attempt to step away from him and she even manages to make it past him before a hand clasps around her wrist, his grip so tight, she’s nearly knocked to her bum. 

 “I don’t think that’s any way to speak to someone who is showing you concern,” he practically hisses, and his words feel like thorns slicing into her skin. “Or your superior, may I remind you.”

 She rolls her lips together and makes a feeble attempt to break away from his grip, but to no avail. “Forgive me, Tom,” she basically pleads, rounding her eyes in what she hopes is an expression soft enough, he’d spare some mercy on her. “I’m just… I’m just tired, is all.”

 “Tired?” He repeats and she nods. The corner of his lips curve, “yes, I suppose it must be exhausting trying not to think about me when your boyfriend is around, hm?”

 Weaves of horror thread through her cheeks like spider silk at the creeping realization that Tom Riddle knows she’s been staring at him, that she’s been plagued by thoughts of him. She isn’t sure how he knows of course, but at that moment, the answer didn’t matter. All she cares about now is fleeing, to find a moment alone where she can collect herself. 

 She breaks free from his grip at last and breaks down the rest of the stairs, turning the corner into the girls’ restroom, kneeling over to chase air back into her lungs once she’s alone. She feels impossibly hot, as if she were a volcano close to eruption. 

 After more than a few minutes have passed, she finally believes she can breathe, that she’s collected, that she’s calm, cool. She’s entirely late for Transfiguration, but Professor Dumbledore adores her; it shouldn’t be a problem if she’s a little tardy. She takes a deep breath as she approaches one of the bathroom mirrors, switching on the faucet and leaning over the sink, cupping water into her hands to splash them onto her cheeks. The cool water sends shivers slithering down her spine but it is refreshing— she feels better. 

 All that’s left to do now is leave and never run into Tom Riddle again. Simple. Easy. 

 She stands and wipes at her face with the sleeves of her robe, switching off the faucet and when she opens her eyes, she finds that she is no longer alone. 

 Tom Riddle stands behind her figure in the mirror and with a gasp, she turns, backing into the sink. She’s not sure whether to cry or run away or just let her desire take over her now, but what’s for certain is that all the work she made to calm herself has completely flown out the window. 

 “You’re so easy to read, you know,” he speaks as if they never stopped talking, slyly slithering back into conversation with great facility. Purely true snakelike fashion. “I always thought you Ravenclaws were supposed to be clever, but that boyfriend of yours is as dim as they come.”

 Tom stalks closer and again, she’s unable to move, left to simply watch as he caves in on her, his hands on either side of the sink she’s backed up into, caging her. In a matter of seconds, she’s whisked into his game of cat and mouse, prey and predator. The only problem is, she’s not sure if she wants to run. 

 Not when he’s so close she can smell him, that she can feel his breath on her face, his arms brush against hers, his legs subtly weaving their way between hers. 

 “How he cannot see that you do not desire him the way you desire this…” Either of their gazes drop to her lap as Tom’s fingers slither up her knee where her robe parts, the tips pushing her skirt up and up until his hand rests on the soft, pillowy flesh of her thigh. 

 Gooseflesh creeps down her arms, all the way down to her legs as she tries to comprehend that this is reality and she is not dreaming. Her bottom lip quivers and that irritating flutter in her heart is back, inspiring a tingle low in her belly. 

 “…how he cannot see that he’s not enough for you, that what you want is risk, is beyond me,” he whispers near her ear and his hand finds her center, a ghostly touch above her panties and she gasps, instinctively locking her fingers around his wrist. Her eyes find his and for a moment the world stills and there is no more Hogwarts, no more girls’ bathroom, no more classes and homework and professors, and no more Vincent. 

 Her world is solely Tom Riddle, a sea of oblivion she loses herself endlessly in. She’s sucked into his abyss and she is forever falling, forever damned to be lost in his void. But there is a rush that comes with being tethered to Tom Riddle in this twisted, carnal bind. There is a certain warmth that draws her in, that makes her feel at ease, like a moth to a flame. 

 She realizes that perhaps he is right. Being with Vincent was always too safe, too simple, too plain. Vincent is just too good, too docile, too nice. Tom Riddle may seem duteous on the outside, yes, but he is also authoritative, dominant. There’s something so appealing about risk, about danger. 

 Even just being here alone with Tom Riddle in the girls’ bathroom was more of a risk than Vincent ever even dreamed of taking. The faster the realization that she isn’t satisfied with Vincent creeps in, the more she realizes that Tom was even better than she initially imagined. The ache deep in her belly blossoms and she glances down to his lips before peering back up into that endless ocean of obsidian in his eyes. 

 “It seems that you’re only now coming to terms with what you want,” he speaks again and she swears his face is closer now to hers than it was before. She holds her breath, waiting for him to continue. “You see it now, don’t you? That you want this, that you’ve been craving this.”

 The hand on her underwear begins to move again and she exhales, gasping for breath as his fingertips reach the waistband, slowly inching beneath the fabric. His brows draw together and his fingertips halt just above her mound and it feels like her body is kicking, screaming for him to keep going. Her hips squirm but he holds them down with his free hand, never once breaking their gaze. 

 “I think I’d like to hear you say it,” he says, and her brows knit. She shakes her head, “what?” She sputters, trying to subtly rock her hips again but to no avail. His grip tightens on her flesh and she whimpers as he leans closer until their noses almost touch. His gaze darkens and suddenly, she’s under his trance, frozen by the crease between his brows. 

 “Say that you want me,” he whispers and his voice drips with derision, pulling her deeper into the murky waters of his black ocean, further into submission. “Then you can have what you so desire.”

 Fear stops her heart, but her libido resuscitates it. 

 Her mouth parts and she closes it again, recollecting herself before she tries again. 

 “I…” her voice is unsteady and she swallows, starting again. “…I want this. I want you, Tom.”

 Tom inhales sharply and for a moment, all is still again. She wonders if maybe he’s changed his mind, if he doesn’t actually want to do this, if the thought suddenly disgusts him, even. She feels so hot, like she could melt into a puddle of magma any moment now. She waits though, because how could she walk away now?

 The world is still one moment and it’s spinning out of control the next. 

 Tom Riddle’s lips crash into hers like lightning striking the earth and her ground rocks, but his hand finds the side of her neck and she’s stable again. Their tongues are in a war that Tom will eventually win, and when he does, she’s malleable. The hand partly inside her underwear sinks further down until the pads of his fingers trace a stripe from her nub to her core and back up, a relentless pattern that leaves her mind spinning. 

 She whimpers against his mouth as he finds her clit again, his fingers rubbing small, tight circles against it as if to vex her. She lolls her head back to the mirror as his mouth breaks away from hers to venture lower towards her neck. She pants as he finds a delicate patch of skin, suckling it between his teeth as he applies more pressure to her aching center. Her legs twitch and her knees begin to wobble, prompting Tom to use his unoccupied hand to lift her up onto the sink so that she now sits. 

 She yelps and clasps a hand over her mouth to suppress any louder noises that may emit when he sinks his teeth into her neck, pulling away to admire his work. His fingers swirl around her clit before trailing down to her sopping cunt, using his middle and forefinger to work her open with a scissoring motion. 

 Her eyelids flutter close and she’s seeing stars, much like the ones on the ceiling of the Ravenclaw common room. She imagines she is one of those stars, a little ball of gas that burns brighter and brighter with each pump of his fingers, each kiss his lips grace upon her skin. 

 Tom swirls his tongue over the tender mark on her neck, already bruising, no doubt. His mouth leaves trails of kisses all the way up her chin to her mouth again, his free hand making its way to the back of her head to fist a handful of her hair, and she opens her eyes again. She feels small beneath his gaze, but it’s not because of how he stares at her, it’s how he stares into her, like he’s a spider crawling into her mind, a vine twisting around her brain. 

 He’s got her completely under his control between his gaze and his fingers pumping inside of her and she’s never once been so utterly someone’s before until this moment. A line forms between her brows as he works a third finger into the mix and it feels like he’s practically digging her orgasm out of her. 

 She pants and reaches out for him, for anything on his body she can hold onto.  She settles for his elbow, the one on the same arm as the hand he has woven through her hair, her opposite hand falling to the side of the sink, her fingernails scratching the white surface. 

 “Tom, I’m…” she pants as he curls his fingers inside of her, using the pad of his thumb to circle her clit again. Her back is arching off of the mirror and somewhere in the back of her mind, she thanks Merlin that miraculously, nobody has walked into the bathroom yet. “…I’m going to… I’m…!”

 “Do it,” he encourages beside her ear, his breath like smoke on her skin. “Poor things’ been so neglected, hasn’t been fucked enough. You must’ve been waiting so long for me to come save you and give you an orgasm, hm?”

 She nods, feeling the salty bite of tears in her eyes. It’s all simply too much, being stuffed full of Tom’s fingers, his thumb on her clit, his fingers in her hair, his body so close to hers, his voice telling her such wicked things. To think that none of this would’ve happened if she hadn’t been caught staring at him earlier. That it took her dating someone whom Tom loathes such as Vincent to get her where she is now. 

 “Then do it,” he hisses again. “Come all over my fingers. Show me how neglected this poor cunt has been.”

 Such a dirty thing for him to say and yet, it’s exactly what she needs to send her over the edge. His fingers hook inside of her heat and her body spasms when she comes undone, her toes curling while her lips fall in a silent scream. Tom gathers her mouth to seal them in a kiss once more as she rides her orgasm out on his fingers, and she moans against his lips, allowing his tongue to swirl over hers. 

 It feels like she’s been falling forever, but Tom eventually pulls his fingers away, eyes spilling into hers as he brings them to his lips. She feels like she could have another orgasm just watching him taste her on his fingers. 

 She reaches forward to cup the back of his head, pulling his mouth down onto hers, tasting a mix of his spit and her cum on his lips. It’s all very obscene, but it makes it all the more gratifying all the same. 

 Tom eventually pulls away, his lips prettily pink and glistening with spit, and he backs away, dusting off his robes. She feels the crease form in her forehead as he begins making for the door and she tilts her head, mustering the energy to call after him. 

 “Where are you going?” She asks and he turns only to peer over his shoulder. She can see his raised eyebrow and she suddenly feels stupid for asking the question. “To class,” he replies and then, the corner of his mouth curls into a nefarious grin. It’s enough to even send shivers slithering down her spine— how wicked he looks, grinning like a devil with remnants of her release on his lips. “Don’t worry. I’ll see you and your boyfriend in Defense Against the Dark Arts later.”

a/n; whew. i'm honestly surprised i got this one done LMFAO. anyways, THIS REQUEST HAS BEEN SITTING IN MY INBOX FOR MOST LIKELY OVER A YEAR AND I'M SO SORRY TO THE ANON FOR TAKING SO LONG TO WRITE THIS 😭 i still hope that if you are reading, you enjoy it! i hope this is angsty enough 😭

anyways, i hope everyone who reads this enjoys it! i absolutely love writing for tom and this is the most fun i've had writing for him since probably wrapped around your finger and its sequel :)

🪄 if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging or even leaving a reply to let me know! 🫶

TAGLIST

@your-nanas-house

@sallowsarchives

@michelle-26

@iamthejam

@lyis

[cobaltperun]

Woe out the Storm (13) - Here comes the Thunder

Wednesday Addams x female Reader

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

Story warnings: Wednesday Addams, violence, slow burn

Story Masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

Word count: 3.6k

-Storms are comin', better run for cover. Here comes, here comes the thunder-

Tyler Galpin was the monster, the Hyde, the one who murdered Rowan and hurt Eugene. You were pissed, but you were nowhere near as pissed as Wednesday.

“I should have known it. His wounds weren’t nearly as serious as they should have been, I thought he got lucky, but he wounded himself,” she began pacing back and forth, the two of you still in front of the hospital.

“We need to go,” you told her, as subtly as you could pointing toward the hospital where Weems and the sheriff were coming out. “We can’t trust either of them now. H won’t turn his own son in and Weems…” you weren’t ready to say it just yet.

“Has been obstructing us since the start,” Wednesday said it for you as the two of you began walking away. You’d head straight for Nevermore, there wasn’t anywhere else you could go to, really.

“Right, let’s see, we know Hyde lays dormant, so there should be some genetics involved there. Galpin senior is a normie, but do we know anything about Tyler’s mom?” you asked, it was very rare for someone to just randomly develop an ability. It happened, but usually not with the kinds of abilities that involved transforming or shifting.

Wednesday shook her head. “No, and you’re not going to the archive to check,” ah, so she was still worried about what happened to you when you went to mayor’s office building.

“Maybe sneak into his house? See if we can find any medical records? Any history with Nevermore?” you gave in, it was adorable how protective she was.

“We can send Thing,” before you could even raise the question of his health she beat you to it. “He’s fine now,” she assured you.

“Okay, we got a plan then,” you nodded. Thing really was your best option here, even if you wished he could rest for at least a while longer. “Why would he turn on Laurel though?” you wondered.

“I’m not sure, I’m confident Kinbott is Laurel,” she slowed down a bit, as if something caught her attention at that very moment. “No, it’s not Kinbott,” Wednesday completely stopped.

You stopped as well, though a few steps ahead of her, and raised an eyebrow, silently asking her to continue.

“I thought it was her because of the flowers she left in Eugene’s room, they were the same flowers Enid and I saw in Laurel’s room, but the photos someone took of me mean that someone would have to be at Nevermore,” Wednesday explained, and you could see the frustration on her face at both her guesses being wrong.

“And since Tyler is the Hyde, the master has to be at Nevermore,” you groaned in frustration, you had no idea who it could be. “Unless it’s someone else, like the one that attacked me,” why was this so complicated?

“I don’t think it’s that one. The raijin, I mean,” Wednesday said and you halted completed.

“Raijin? The raijin? Japanese ‘lightning god’ raijin?” Wednesday just nodded at that. Well, that explained a lot of things, the pressure you felt, the difference in your level, the overwhelming presence. You weren’t dealing with a beast, you were dealing with a damn god of lightning. “Well, we better hope that guy doesn’t show up, because all that talk about not dying goes out the window in that case,” you just said it. There was absolutely nothing you could do, even if you shifted you felt like you’d be powerless against raijin.

“I know, I saw a vision of Diego, the raiju Goody had a bond with, fighting him. You can’t fight him,” you could hear the hints of panic in her voice. Wednesday knew, even better than you did, from the looks of it, just how strong the raijin was. And it pretty much confirmed you were attacked by someone who’s been alive for centuries.

You closed the distance between you two and took hold of her hand. When she squeezed your hand in return you leaned down, resting your forehead against her left shoulder. “I’m not going to let you deal with this alone, if that’s what you were going to suggest,” you could hear the sharp, though barely audible, gasp. “I’m on your side no matter what,” you let red sparks surround the two of you, completely safe for Wednesday. And in the midst of all that she raised her other arm and placed it on your back, her fingers digging into your back through your shirt.

“Don’t die for me,” she whispered, so softly you almost wondered if you heard it right.

You told her you wouldn’t die, but given the situation, it seemed more like wishful thinking than anything else now. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” you couldn’t say anything else, you could just hope it wouldn’t get to that point.

And if it did… Well, there was no point in thinking about that right now.

You had no idea how long the two of you stayed like that, in the middle of the road between Nevermore and Jericho, not caring one bit about who could see you. You both just committed the moment to your memories, cherishing the feelings you weren’t quite ready to talk about just yet, but you were feeling them nonetheless, perhaps even more intensely than you would if you were to put them into words.

It wasn’t a generational bond. This ran deeper, this was entirely personal, and it brought out a side of each of you that you didn’t even realize existed. The more emotional side of Wednesday, and a side of you that wasn’t afraid of your lightning hurting someone.

~X~

For whatever reason you chose to stay in the quad, saying something about giving Wednesday some space. Considering how emotional she got less than half an hour ago she was more than willing to accept that. When she came into her room, she realized exactly why you gave her space.

Wednesday stopped when she saw Enid there, unpacking and it somehow made a heavy weight she was feeling since Enid left disappear. She could admit that she preferred to stick to certain habits, and you and Enid living with her became a part of her daily routine, so to have Enid back, from the looks of it, made her feel like things were going back to how they should be.

“Hey,” Enid greeted her.

“You’re back,” Wednesday wasn’t sure what else to say.

“I’m gone for a few days, the place gets trashed, and Thing almost dies. Someone’s gotta look out for you two and Y/N can’t do it alone,” Enid stopped unpacking and walked around her bed to get closer to Wednesday.

Like getting emotional with you wasn’t already enough. Wednesday could feel emotions clawing their way out of her body against her will, so she changed the subject. “What happened to rooming with Yoko?”

“Yoko’s great. I just decided I needed a few more boundaries,” Enid was already pulling the tape out.

Wednesday looked away. “Skip the tape.”

“Don’t tell me Wednesday Addams is mellowing out,” Enid dared to tease her.

“Never. More like evolving,” she retorted right away, once again meeting Enid’s eyes.

“Well, one inch of duct tape at a time,” the pastel werewolf smiled, not as brightly, but just as genuinely as Wednesday was used to seeing.

“Why the sudden change of heart?” she couldn’t help but ask.

“Because we work. We shouldn’t, but we do. It’s like some sort of weird friendship anomaly. Everything you said about me is true, but I don’t apologize for it, not anymore. It’s just who I am,” Enid told her, confident and relaxed.

“Thing said he missed you,” it was true, it was also the way to express a part of what she felt without saying it entirely.

“I missed him too,” Enid replied and Wednesday could feel the unspoken words.

“I,” she paused, cursing herself for how soft she had gotten since coming here, how soft Enid and especially you made her. “missed you too.”

Enid remained too stunned to respond and Wednesday took that opportunity to step away from the conversation.

~X~

The plan was set in motion. Enid, who came back and had a much-needed conversation with Wednesday, that you chose to give them privacy for, would make sure to cover your and Wednesday’s absence from your room. Bianca would use her siren song on Tyler, Xavier would offer his shed as the place to bring Tyler to, and Ajax, Yoko, Divina and Kent would be the back-up.

Of course, if anything went horribly wrong you’d be the first line of defense and the one who’d fight the Hyde, even if Wednesday wasn’t too thrilled about that part of the plan.

You watched as Bianca put Tyler to sleep. This was the extent of her siren song. It wouldn’t be helpful for the interrogation; she couldn’t make someone tell the truth. That was the issue with her ability, she could make someone believe something, but in doing so she influenced them. Meaning that she’d influence Tyler into believing he was the Hyde instead of pulling the truth out of him. You stood at the back of Xavier’s shed, behind Tyler, and far enough that he couldn’t realize you were there. If he thought he could fight his way out of this he was sorely mistaken.

Yet, as Bianca woke him up, he immediately put on an act, pretending he was confused and afraid as Wednesday tased him.

The yells of disapproval from everyone else annoyed you. Tyler killed people, he did it in a brutal, painful way, he felt them die. Getting tased was the good outcome for him. But one by one, the Nightshades left Xavier’s shed, with Bianca trying to get Wednesday to go to Weems.

“Wait, wait please! Don’t leave me here with her, I’m begging you!” Tyler cried and whined, knowing that Wednesday wouldn’t stop. But, Bianca left, just like everyone else, leaving only you, Wednesday and tied up Tyler in the shed.

“Wednesday, please! I’m not the monster! And even if I was you’re alone now!” he tried, he bargained, he wasn’t aware of the full circumstances he was in.

“Not quite. Trust me, I’m more than enough to handle you,” you spoke and he froze as he realized you were there as well. “You didn’t think I’d leave her here alone with you, did you Galpin?” you came up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder, zapping him lightly, not any harder than Wednesday’s taser, but he definitely felt it. “Talk,” you demanded.

“I have nothing to say! I’m innocent!” he cried out.

“We know you’re not,” Wednesday stood next to you. “What is Laurel Gates using you for?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you had to give it to him, he was good at hiding who he really was. You were almost tempted to believe him.

“Tyler, the body parts in the basement of the Gates mansion, what are they for?” she wasn’t giving up.

“Wednesday, please,” but he just kept begging, like a broken record.

“Who is Laurel Gates, Galpin? Come on now, either transform or talk, but don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” your eyes turned red and you released a strong burst of lightning around you, though you wouldn’t hit him with it unless he fought back he didn’t know that.

But he just kept whining, crying and begging for mercy and it wasn’t his crying that got you to pull Wednesday back. It was much simpler than that. “He’s not going to talk,” and you could see it in Wednesday’s eyes that she figured it out as well.

Not that it mattered, even considering the fact that Tyler was no longer tased or tortured in any other way, the police, let by Tyler’s father, came in and prevented any chance of Tyler talking.

You were ready to be taken away, but the police ignored you, courtesy of Weems trading in the information of Tyler’s abduction and location for your freedom. You glared at the woman as the police took Wednesday away. She wanted to avoid you attacking someone at the station, she could see the way you felt about Wednesday, and she wasn’t risking those feelings causing you to shift.

~X~

Wednesday was seething. Tyler was getting away with it and now he was gloating. Telling her about his victims, how their fear was delicious. And then, as if to make sure she completely understood the situation she was in, he leaned toward her, pulling her closer by the collar of her jacket.

“You have no idea what’s coming. And your raiju? That beast that you like? I’ll make sure to bring you her head,” he promised to hurt you, he promised to kill you and bring remains to Wednesday and the rage within her reached a boiling point as she seethed while staring at his retreating back. It was as if he really was innocent, that’s how he was behaving and Wednesday pushed the doors open and briskly walked outside. She needed to get away from him, otherwise she’d make her situation even worse than it already was.

When she stepped outside the police station she saw you sitting on the stairs, clearly you zapped from Nevermore to the station and Wednesday couldn’t help but feel her heart hammering nails against her chest.

You heard her coming out and got up right away. You looked concerned, worried about Wednesday and she just took a deep breath. Her time at Nevermore was more than likely over.

~X~

“Expelled?! You expelled her?!” you yelled, lightning bursting all around you and damaging Weems’ table where you were gripping it.

“Calm down Y/N. That’s the quid pro quo for sheriff Galpin not pressing kidnapping charges,” she explained, only fueling your rage even further.

“So, expel me too! I was just as involved!” why was Wednesday expelled why you got to stay?

Weems stood up, anger radiating from her in a way you never saw up until that point. And it was somehow fitting for her.

“You know as well as I do that I can’t expel you. Setting a raiju free would only tarnish Nevermore’s reputation,” she said it in a tone so low you nearly stopped glaring at her. Weems was imposing, but she was never intimidating like right now.

You didn’t back away though. “We’ll see how long you can stick to that,” you promised and blasted the doors open with your lightning.

~X~

Weems wasn’t the only one you were going to confront, but before you could deal with Tyler the only remaining way you could think off, Bianca and her Nightshades came up to you.

“I’m sorry we got Wednesday expelled, it wasn’t our intention,” you would let it go, you wouldn’t react to her words. “We just couldn’t let you torture him,” you couldn’t walk away from that. You turned around and walked up to Bianca.

“Bullshit! He murdered people!” you exclaimed, your anger making your eyes turn red and subsequently making Bianca and others step back.

“You and Wednesday tortured him!” Bianca snapped back, always the boldest of them all.

“And any one of us would have gone through much worse if we were the monster,” you reminded her that was how it worked, how it was for the outcasts.

“Y/N,” Wednesday calling your name calmed you down and your eyes went back to normal, her voice, her arrival put a stop to the argument you had with the Nightshades.

You turned around and saw her coming down the stairs. She really was leaving. “Wednesday,” you clenched your fist, feeling powerless to do anything about this.

“This isn’t over, I need you to stay alive, don’t pick unnecessary fights,” she stopped right in front of you, almost as if she was going to take hold of your hand, but changed her mind at the last moment.

You nodded. “I got this, and I’ll stay in touch with you, I promise,” you told her, which prompted her to slip a piece of paper into your hand.

“My address, if you send letters, or if you want to visit,” she said and you nodded once again, grasping her hand before she could pull it away.

“Be careful, especially until you get out of this town,” you rubbed circles into the back of her hand, much like you did the night Thing was stabbed.

Wednesday nodded, only pulling away from you when Bianca chose to speak up, to apologize for getting her expelled.

~X~

It’s only been hours since Wednesday left and you still weren’t willing to fully accept it.

It was the irony at its best. Because here you were, doing the exact thing Wednesday did when you left the room. You were laying on her bed, just staring at the ceiling. You should have been expelled as well, you should have went with her, you shouldn’t have just accepted her leaving. Now you were stuck in the remnants of her presence. Her scent, her half of the window and her part of the room, void of any color. If you concentrated enough you could almost hear her cello, you could hear Thing’s insistent tapping.

You could feel him jumping on your shoulder and pulling your collar.

Wait? What?

You sat up so abruptly Thing nearly tumbled off the bed. “Thing? What happened?” him being here wasn’t a good sign, no matter how nice it was to see him.

He began frantically signing and you tried to understand him, but you couldn’t follow.

“Wed-Wednesday is- Wednesday is what?!” you were getting frustrated, and so was Thing, as he began signing even faster, fumbling over words and making it impossible for you to figure it out. “Slow down! It’s terrible when you stutter!”

He gave up on signing and jumped down, running to your table. You followed him as he grabbed a pen and tried to write, but he didn’t have a piece of paper. Frustrated, he began tapping the morse code with the pen.

“Wednesday is in danger!” your eyes widened when you finally understood what he was saying. “Tyler and Thornhill took her! To Crackstone’s crypt!” you grabbed your phone as Thing slumped down onto the table, relieved that you got the message. You immediately called Enid, not caring one bit that she was with Ajax.

“Damn it, Enid, pick up!” but she wasn’t picking up as you took the knives you would hopefully stab deep into Tyler and Thornhill, Laurel, whatever her name was. You quickly called Ajax instead and nearly began yelling when he picked up. “Put Enid on the phone, now,” you demanded.

“She’s talking to Eugene,” he tried to tell you.

“Now Ajax!” you didn’t have time for this.

“Okay, okay, you’re on speaker!” you heard him telling Enid it was you.

“Y/N? Eugene told me Thornhill is Laurel!” Enid exclaimed.

“I know, she took Wednesday! I’ll take Thing to Poe’s statue, he’ll explain about Nightshades, take Ajax with you, bye!” you hung up before Enid could say anything and grabbed Thin as you ran and, much like a few nights ago, jumped off the balcony. Only this time you didn’t need to catch anyone, you just held Thing close to you and slowed down your fall enough to land without any injuries.

“I’ll go and get her, I promise,” you assured him as you ran toward the statue.

Thing just tapped that he knew against your palm.

You left him at the statue and threw your knife, zapping toward the crypt. The lake? It didn’t matter. You threw your knife right across it, zapping and catching it and throwing it again, not once looking at the water beneath you. It didn’t matter, the danger, the fear of water, all you knew was that Wednesday was stuck with a revenge driven lunatic and her pet monster that enjoyed slaughtering people.

~X~

The one person that ever made Wednesday feel fear stood in front of her, revived because of her blood and Laurel’s ritual. And he even thought she was Goody. Not that it mattered, he had used his telekinesis to keep her from moving.

Hypocrite, using outcast abilities while trying to wipe them out.

“Goody Addams, you will suffer the same fate you bequeathed me!” he promised as he approached her.

Wednesday glared at him as she tried to break free, but it was even stronger than Rowan’s telekinesis. She couldn’t do anything. She was powerless as he pulled out a knife. The flames flickered, and the glint of the blade made her more than aware of how this would end. She was alone, and she had no way to defend herself.

Doors burst open behind her and the moment of surprise cost Crackstone his chance to stab Wednesday, a knife passed right by Wednesday and she felt arms wrapping around her waist as she was pulled to the side and away from the resurrected man.

“Raiju, I see you found a new one, Goody Addams,” Crackstone growled as he recognized the ability you had.

“Hands off my Addams,” you… just had to… Didn’t you? Even if the threatening tone of your voice made Wednesday a bit more forgiving of what you said.

A/N: Raiju to the rescue! No mortal wounds for Wednesday, yet. Honestly, I feel like the middle of the chapter is a bit bare, so I might go back and add some more scenes, but as it is, I’m okay with this. Do tell me what you think about the chapter. Is the middle bare, or is it enough given the fact that I’m writing slightly altered canon and you could just go and watch the show instead of reading about it.

[rockingrobin69]

Want

Malfoy did this thing where he only used a finger and a thumb for crisps. He’d wade through mud without a second thought to retrieve Scorp’s ball from the hissing nettles, he put his arm up to the elbow in cold spaghetti sauce on a dare, he rolled down not one but three different hills with Teddy on their hikes, but when it came to crisps, he was his perfect lordly self. A finger and a thumb going in neat motions, barely even crinkling the bag. A dignified amount of crisps pinched tightly, brought slowly into his mouth. So careful and clean and entirely unintentional. He didn’t even know he was doing it.

Harry did.

Harry noticed everything about him. Hard not to when Malfoy was like this, weird and loud and awkward, pathetic and incredible and everywhere. When Teddy adopted him and Scorp (officially, with a letter he’d hand-written, signed with a drawing of, randomly, a horse); when they moved in, and Malfoy’s pyjamas became a recurring vision, llamas and tiny buttons following even in his dreams; when he found the stray cat, named her Nibbles for no earthly reason; when he was a menace, and Harry adored it. Him. Adored—the whole thing, how their lives suddenly became this, tight and uncomfortable and too warm and perfect.

Teddy was no help. He practically had love-hearts for eyes whenever Malfoy walked in the room. All these ‘Draco, look!’ and ‘Draco, can you—’ and ‘Draco, Draco, come sit next to me!’ that drove Harry spare. And Scorp was such a tiny little thing in all his Molly-made-jumpers, babbling with a look of utter importance and following Teddy around, and cackling with joy whenever he was in Malfoy’s arms. And the cat, fucking, cat, always getting kisses and—

No, Harry wasn’t jealous, that wasn’t quite it. He was… overwhelmed with how gentle it all was. Never really imagined life could be like this, didn’t think he’d want it. Discovered he did with such terrifying intensity, that he yearned for something that wasn’t quite nameable, that he somehow almost had. It kept him up at nights and filled his days with this weird, feverish joy. It was soft and itchy and all his. Almost his. So fucking close to being his.

And Malfoy was right there, sitting across from Harry with his ankle on one knee and the bag of fucking crisps and the way he was eating them, almost—decadently, and utterly, helplessly serious. On the rug, Harry realised he probably loved him.

Stretched, leaned slightly to his side until he was touching Malfoy’s knee. “Hey,” he said, swallowed.

“Hi.” Malfoy offered him the bag. “Want some?”

“You eat crisps funny,” Harry said for an answer. “All cleanly and stuff. It’s funny.”

“Oh. Well. Always happy to amuse you.”

He was so ridiculous, with the little stickers he let Ted and Scorp stick on his socks, on the sliver of his leg that was visible. It would hurt like hell to rip these out, all the fine blond hair caught underneath. Harry couldn’t breathe for a moment, it struck him so hard.

It was the middle of August and a really cold day. All the lights in the living room made it look like… something Harry wanted so badly. Instead of trying to make it into words, he leaned his head against Malfoy. Allowed the fingers threading through his hair. The movement so, so gentle.

“I’m picking Ted early from school tomorrow,” Malfoy announced some time later, in this awful voice he used for Scorp, or when Teddy had a nightmare. “He hates the dentist, so I promised to take him on a walk after. Maybe the hill where we went last month, the one with the waterfall.”

Harry hummed something delighted and heartbroken. Buried his face in Malfoy’s thigh, surrendered to the feeling of his hands, of his warmth.

“Harry… I meant, do you want to come with us? Sorry. That’s not—wasn’t quite clear.”

Buried his face tighter.

“Or—maybe we can go another day? Just us. You and me, I mean. There’s this place I think you would like. If you absolutely insisted, we could take Nibbles along on her lead.”

Brought his head up, pouted at Malfoy’s pretty face. “No, that’s…” stopped when he noticed the smile. When he realised that this thing that he wanted was already his. Pressed a tiny kiss to Malfoy’s shin, to a sticker of a star on his hairy leg. “You are,” Harry said, and meant it from the bottom of his heart. Breathed, breathed. Sat there and grinned to himself.

The bag of crisps crinkled. The afternoon went on, lit and weirdly warm. It was the life Harry didn’t know he wanted, that he ached for, that he had.

(If you enjoyed this, I've recently shared the first part of Wonderful on AO3. Consider checking it out for your pining needs).

[n3ptoonz]

When you added Kenshi to the “wall kiss” post and you even inputted Sento’s spirit… it gave me an idea. I don’t know if this counts as monster fucking lol

I was wondering if it would be possible for you to write a threesome featuring Ghost Sento and Kenshi. Sento seems to have some sentience, though I'm not sure how exactly it operates. In the cutscenes, for example, it did save Kenshi. Thus, given that Sento and Kenshi have a telepathic link and Kenshi has feelings for the reader, it's possible that Sento feels a "pull" towards the reader. Im just trying to justify why it would be possible 😭 When I play them and I see how in sync they are, it makes me want to be between them lol, like sirs I have 2 holes. This is assuming Sento's spirit possesses genitalia, but for the sake of fiction why not. I’m sorry if this is long or weird!🙏

not weird at all i am HAPPY to do this. it reminds me of the starjota x reader fic i wrote a while back lmaooo

whenever characters have abilities like that it always gets me thinking. i just CANT help myself 😝

inappropriate use of sento/spirits blurb with kenshi takahashi

cck-warming and face fcking mentioned, sento referred to by name as its own entity instead of saying spirit a bunch of times, i can't take myself seriously for the life of me like why do i get so giddy and nervous when i write LMAOO

DEFINITELY in for double penetration territory. i mean, the kinds of internal signals kenshi gets whenever he's around you are pretty intense. his thoughts go from normal to turbo horny in a split second. although with the way his was feeling he wanted to get a lil creative

there you were in sento's lap and warming the fantom feeling of what would be a dick, caged in its hold so strong you didn't even need to be tied up. your fingers ran cold from the lack of use while kenshi did what he pleased with your mouth; all of your senses came to life with every thrust. sento released you for a second, pulling your arms behind you to hold them in place with one hand and the other just caressed different parts of your bare body.

if he was busy but at home, and you were particularly in need of some satisfaction, look no further. sento's got your back, literally. in a sense sento was like his inner thoughts. so if it had you pinned down in prone and going to town on you, you can safely assume kenshi would be doing exactly that if he didn't have shit to do.

one more thing...since sento is an entity, it can shapeshift as well. bigger, smaller, taller, shorter, and you can ask for just about anything for fun. sento's love for you is only as strong as kenshi, so when you find yourself getting tossed around by some giant spirit with a giant cawk, everybody say thank you kenshi!

side note i think it would be funny if he had x-ray vision with sento so it just randomly makes you appear as butt ass naked in front of kenshi meanwhile you have a full outfit on LMAOO

a/n edit: feel free to send in asks like this y'all! they're quick and easy, very fun to write too <3

[anghraine]

this is entirely unprompted on your end, but i love your darcy and faramir takes and wanted to get your opinion on aragorn/faramir as a ship.

i'm salivating over it and nobody. cares. but i just love how it can show the possibilities of book faramir being a "threat" to aragorn's kingship in a way that nobody else is...how they can relate through their shared ancestry but the entirely different ways it impacted them in their respective lives - something about aragorn being the heir of isildur, growing up surrounded by elves, arnor. something about faramir being distinctly aware of the legacy of the stewards, his numenorean heritage and how it's fading away in the world of men, gondor (my fav world in lotr, you are so under-appreciated, gondor.) i personally adhere to the stewards-were-most-likely-also-royalty headcanon because of that extra juicy tension. throw in the i-knew-your-father-as-a-young-man aspect, the whole steward-quite-literally-serving-in-wait-of-the-true-king aspect? it's everything.

i dunno. the natural cause and effect of "return of the king" & "departure of the steward" is so interesting to play with in a romantic context, especially if it keeps both of them in the limelight when naturally, it should only be one of them? i think it's the aragorn ship that pushes his character and ambition the most, and in the same way, it can push faramir to show more machiavellian traits, more of him utilizing his political power and/or personal strengths. especially since his canonical fate is extremely satisfying but also...very conclusively an *ending* if that makes sense.

i might just want to see faramir clashing with aragorn wanting to wage more war. let him cook! let the man speak about "queen among other queens: not a mistress of many slaves"!!!!

also must admit that it's my contrarian ass wanting to rebel against the fanon "aragorn never ever wanted to be king" + "faramir is a pathetic meow meow" headcanons. the existing faramir x aragorn fics i've read all adhere to it which is frustrating.

anyways, any thoughts on this ship i randomly latched on to?

Anon, this is my #1 Tolkien ship and actually one of the only m/m ships I've ever been super into. I used to guiltily sneak-read Aragorn/Faramir as a teenager because I grew up in a conservative community and hadn't come to terms with my own queerness at the time, and was still figuring out how to get by in that community just as a Democrat, much less a lesbian.

Anyway, I got a huge kick out of your ask because it's basically point-for-point my own feelings about them. If you haven't seen it, I even wrote a ship manifesto for them over ten years ago.

And unfortunately I do also agree that the (very PJ film-inflected) fanons around both characters have made it very difficult to find fic for the ship that isn't deeply OOC for the original versions of the characters (tbh the last time I looked, it was hard enough to even find F/A fics where Faramir had black hair, much less his deeper canon characteristics). Add in the fanon depictions of Gondor and the Stewardship, and a lot of what appeals about the pairing is lost for me. I read some good ones a longggg time ago, but wouldn't begin to know where to find them now.

(I know I should be the change I want to see and write some myself, but apart from the AU f/f and m/f/f versions, I think the closest I ever came to it was this post about a mostly-the-same-as-LOTR AU only with Faramir/Aragorn and this feeling explosion about "Faramir actually does accepts the dream-visions obviously intending him to be the one going to Rivendell but also it's Faramir/Aragorn.")

And if you haven't found it yet, my ship tag is #otp: love was kindled.

I hope you enjoy <3

[updownlately]

hi. i’m alive. it’s been a minute, eh? life’s been crazy. it’s been weird. it’s been a mess in all honestly, but we back and we’re gonna give this another crack. randomly came up with this idea at 1am while i was terribly tired but couldn’t sleep so here ya go. not at all proofread or factually checked. it’ll actually be a miracle if it’s coherent at all really anyways, enough of my yapping, much love 🫶.

ッ

please don’t leave me here (i don’t know where my heart is)

awfc x reader

~~~

it happens quickly.

one second you’re focused and running, the roar of the crowd spurring you on, breathing life into you as you sprint across the pitch, your body thrumming with energy as you get to do what you love for a living.

the next, you’re laying on the wet pitch, nearly curled into a ball as pain erupts in your leg. 

normally, the feeling of wet mud smearing against your arms and cheek would leave you feeling nothing but disgusted, but in this moment, you feel nothing but the burning ache in ur leg and a similar ache beginning to grow in your heart.

you were pretty sure you knew what just happened, and the thought of it caused your eyes to sting, you now desperately wishing for this to be nothing but a nightmare.

yet, the little voice in the back of your head knew better, and it didn’t fail to remind you so.

~~~

you don’t know how much time has passed since you’d been subbed off and now. 

hell, you don’t even really know where you are. all you can make out from your blurry vision is annoying white walls, bright lights, and the lack of grass around you.

it’s what begins your panic- breath starting to pick up as the unfamiliar environment wraps around you, closing in on you, a lack of mobility that you didn’t notice earlier holding you down.

what the fuck was going on?

~~~

you only come to again a few hours later, or that’s what you’re told. 

you’re in the arsenal medical room, small knick-knacks in the corner confirming that information as you finally take a proper look around.

you’d woken up to a member of the medical staff watching over you nervously. apparently you’d passed out somewhere between the panic attack you’d had and the administration of the laughing gas they’d used to calm you down. 

matthew, your team doc, finally stopped eyeing you like you were about to spontaneously combust, tilting his head and silently weighing his options before murmuring quietly and shaking his head to himself.

all you get told is he’ll be back in a minute, and then suddenly it’s just you and the grandly entertaining four white walls surrounding you.

~~~

you still can’t make out how much time has passed when you hear a stampede of footsteps approaching you. it couldn’t have been more than a few mere minutes, but with how you can still feel a dull ache in your leg, and your hearts breaking and silently begging for you to tell it some good news, all you can do is wait for someone to confirm your suspicions. 

it just had to be you didn’t it? 

you can feel your eyes start to sting as your thoughts start to race. 

after all the precautions you’d taken, after helping teammate after teammate go through this exact situation, of course it had to happen to you.

you wanna laugh at the irony of it all, having witnessed beth, then viv, then leah, laura, and person after fucking person around you go through this exact moment. 

and then you go and do the same, contracting it like some godforsaken disease. 

you wanna cry. you wanna yell. you desperately want it all to go away like it never happened. 

but you can’t. and it’s that realization that finally causes you breath to shake as the first few tears to fall.

~~~

you soon feel your head being cradled and pulled towards someone’s chest. all you can do is turn into it and try to choke down your tears, body silently shaking as your faith in the universe starts breaking. 

~~~

you’d apparently cried yourself to sleep in viv’s jersey, poor viv -bless her heart- holding you until you’d passed out, and then keeping your sleeping form company until you woke up nearly half-an-hour later, groggy and feeling like utter shit. 

she doesn’t even have to say anything to begin your waterworks again- just a silent nod and sad smile confirming everything you already knew.

the acl crew had a fifth member as of today, and it was no one other than you. 

~~

slowly, each of the girls visit you. 

some come by silently, giving you a hug and a reassuring pat on the head, as a few stick by.

steph’s one of the first few to enter, bringing a solemn kyra and alessia behind her. 

if you weren’t feeling so broken you probably would’ve laughed at just how still kyra was for once in her life. 

with hugs from all three and few encouraging words from the tillies’ second in command, you shooed them out, forcing on a fake smile that they all saw through yet chose to ignore. 

lotte, foxy, viv, and beth were next, the former two silently patting you on the shoulder, before sharing a few words of support as viv and beth both took post by you protectively. 

with a mix of a few other girls, kim and leah were the last to visit, both trying and failing miserably to hide their worried looks. 

you were, ultimately, one of the younger ones of the group, only a year older than kyra and yet not a day more mature. 

combined with your normally bubbly personality, it hit the team a bit harder to witness your tear stained cheeks and leg wrapped in the brace as you tried to hide the sadness the radiated from you at the moment.

“kimberly, what did i say about you frowning too much? you’re gonna get wrinkles like squidward if you don’t quit it soon.”

~~~

your surgery occurs a few weeks after the initial injury. 

leah, viv, and beth end up coming with you for the actual procedure, only leaving after being prompted twice by the nurses. 

since the initial tear, you hadn’t spent more that a quarter of an hour by yourself, instead taking up residence and the meadema household.

as much as you appreciated the love being shown, you still felt your heart clenching each and every morning that you’d waken up- the feeling of the brace much heavier than a kilo and only a fraction as heavy as the weight on your chest. 

the doting was nice, it was nice being taken care of especially with such an agonizing injury. but it couldn’t compete with the way your crutches taunting you in the morning light. or with you even the simplest of movements you used to be able to do without second thought now felt like everest.

it was in all honestly a challenge you just weren’t prepared for, not that you thought you’d ever have to be. 

~~~

the first few weeks after your surgery, you slowly get used to the feeling of not putting weight on your injured leg, as well as the dull aching pain in your heart that seemed to have made itself home in your chest. 

most days, you find yourself laying in till late into the night, the darkness providing the perfect atmosphere for your thoughts to spiral deep down, and down, and down into the abyss. 

could you have predicted it? should you have said yes when asked if you wanted a substitute at half? what had you done differently those past few days? 

you spent hours upon hours racking your head, waking up to breakfast calls with eye bags so dark, it worried your team if you were getting enough sleep.

but you knew you could survive without sleep. what you really needed was answers.

~~~

it’s how you found yourself sprawled across the couch a few days later-watching viv as she cuddled the dogs.

“did you ever wonder what you did wrong?”

the words come out before you can stop them. 

viv’s head snaps up at your question, eyes softening in familiarity as the weight of the words sinks in.

“so that’s where you’ve been?”

you tilt your head to the side, silently beckoning her to elaborate. 

“you’ve been trapped in your own mind. we couldn’t figure out why, even though we all kept trying.”

the dutch striker doesn’t elaborate, and you find yourself surprised to feel the weight on your chest lessen a bit, a small spark of warmth spreading through you for the briefest of seconds.

the two of you end up talking for hours, beth quietly joining in after a short time- your head starting to finally quieten after nearly months of panic. 

~~~

its a week later than you actually find yourself back at the arsenal training ground. 

between weeks with a private physiotherapist and a never ending slew of doctors appointments, somehow you’d been approved for a light strength session with a key focus on your healing knee.

there’s a slight smile gracing your face as you follow leah to the weight room, finally free of those godforsaken crutches you’d been relying on. 

everyone could immediately tell how relieved you were once you’d finally stopped using them. the clear way your shoulders rested more loosely, more relaxed told them everything the needed to know, and simultaneously causing small smiles on their faces, not that you would know, too busy breathing out an unabashed sigh of relief at a small piece of your freedom finally being returned to you. 

so as you follow leah and the s&c coach to the astro turf inside, you feel your heart start to swell ever so slightly at the feel of the (fake) grass under your feet. 

it takes everything in you to not let a tear escape as you feel leah’s hand intertwine with yours as the turf crunches underneath your trainers.

that night, the whole team shows up to the meadema household- ‘a small party due for our recovering energizer bunny’  according to leah.

you feel your heart flutter as your teammates surround you in a massive group hug and you find yourself smiling more that night than the past 2 months combined. 

~~~

the weeks go by as you progress with your strength training. 

it takes countless sessions with the medical team babying you in the weight room, the turf now feeling old and burdensome as you itch for the feeling of real grass and soil underneath your studs. 

you’d been outside a few times, don’t get yourself wrong. but nothing compares to the gliding feeling of a proper pitch, with the wind hitting you stark in the face as baby hairs fly which ever way. as the ever so slightly uneven ground pushes back up against the studs adorning the bottom of your boots. as the oh-so familiar thud of the ball hitting your feet echoes in your ears. 

your heart was getting real sick of the turf and you just had a feeling it was going to let you know soon enough.

~~~

it’s the next day that you felt a little niggle in your bad knee. 

you’d waken up with a dull ache- so slight that you would’ve missed it had you not gotten used to being hyper vigilant about your legs. 

you feel the slight weight on your chest return and you can’t help but just turn onto your side and tuck yourself into your sheets again. 

so much progress had been made until now. you couldn’t bear the thought of it all being washed away.

~~~

its a few hours later than beth comes in your room. 

at first, she tries a loud call to wake you up. once she realizes that’s not working though, is when you can feel her emotions shift- the bubbly personality of hers shrinking itself down as you can feel sympathy envelope the room. 

you don’t have to say anything to her- somehow beth just knows.

you feel her sink into the mattress beside you, carefully pulling you into her arms, your body shaking ever so silently as you feel a weight so foreign yet so familiar come to rest on your chest yet again. 

~~~

the niggle, it turns out, was you agitating your stupid knee again. 

sometime between the last training session and that night, you’d put too much reassurance in your body, because of course, how dare you trust your body to heal like normal.

though, to be fair, normal didn’t seem to be quite as the word suggests.

either way though, the dull ache persisted well over a week, sidelining you yet again as the medical team wanted to wait an extra week to make sure it wasn’t anything serious. 

it’s how you find yourself nearly two weeks later, curled up beside alessia and kyra in the living room, la la land playing on the tv as you desperately wished for your mind to stop wandering to every negative possibility, and instead focus on how just heartbreaking the story of mia and sebastian is- a love that was meant to be, yet ill-fated.

it would be a shame to have a love of that sort.

~~~

your return to s&c this time is accompanied by a wave of nerves, more so than the team’s ever seen in you- normally cool, calm, and collected.

it’s in the way you silently plead for viv to stay the whole time. 

how you don’t dare complete an extra rep, taking each set slow until it is down. 

how you focus on your knee more than anything else in the room, hyper attentive to the way it feels through each exercise, doing your best to ensure you weren’t pushing it to hard. 

oh the joys of being unable to trust your body.

~~~ 

it’s a slow process, with a lot (and really, a lot) of tears, of being on the brink of giving up, of nights spent on the couch with viv, and beth, and leah, and lia, and alessia, and really whoever was there to listen as you mindlessly rambled on about how your knee was failing.

it was countless nights of many of them surrounding you one by one, fighting the voices in your head when you were too tired to do so, holding you close when you struggled to fall asleep, reminding you that you were better, simply put, better than the voices that convinced you otherwise, pushing you to be your best, to do your best, because they weren’t here to let you fail now. 

it was a slow process, but it lead to here. 

you should be happy, be feeling light, but the nervous thrumming in your chest is louder than ever today. 

you’re finally cleared to run on the anti gravity treadmill, and you’re pretty sure you haven’t heard your heart pound this loud since you’d actually done your stupid acl. 

it isn’t long before you’re ushered onto the machine, viv’s quiet “c’mon liefde” spurring you on as you hear beth, leah, and steph yell words of encouragement your way. 

and soon enough, your finally jogging. 

nearly 7+ months and your finally jogging for the first time. 

you’re pretty sure you feel a tear slip down your face as you finish the two minutes run.

and for the first time since seven months ago, your chest feels incredibly light, even if it’s for a few passing moments, pride swelling in your heart as you’re sucked into a group hug immediately upon stepping off the machine. 

~~~

there’s the saying about needing to see the darkness to appreciate the light, and you’d be lying if you said you never found it cheesy.

but now?

now? standing back on the sideline at the emirates, you kind of get what it means. you kind of get the way the universe reminding you of the love you had for not only the sport but for the people you overlooked. there was something tender about the way you had all your teammates applauding you the second the fourth official signalled the change. the way the emirates roared in applause, in joy, in respect, and in love.

it’s a little over nine months of blood, sweat, and more tears than an olympic pool, but you can finally feel the rare london sun shining on you, and the freshly cut blades of grass under your studs, and all you really know is it doesn’t get much better than this. 

life really doesn’t get much better than this. 

[tellodona]

Imagine the brothers with and mc who's comfortable sitting in the most random positions ever. Like sitting upside down on the couch, curled up really tightly on a chair- do you vision what I'm visioning?? Yeah anyways I feel like demons aren't as flexible has humans and so they'd just be really freaking confused like how??

I thought of this really randomly so yk hopenhave fun with it!! <3

- Sky

i've always had this headcanon after seeing a fic about it ! where the demons and angels aren't as flexible as humans

time to traumatize some demons

the brothers when mc sits in a bone-cracking (for them) position

heads up: gn!mc

lucifer

the both of you were hanging out in his study whilst he works

he excuses himself to get a glass of water

leaves you sitting upside down on one of the sofas, your legs up and your head dangling over at the edge, but he didn't think much of it at first

he comes back to see you bending over the sofa's backrest, your upper body behind it and your lower body facing him

he pales

slightly maybe

he places down the glass on the coffee table, and walked around the sofa, and you tilt your head up at him

"oh, hey lucifer"

mc?????????

you didn't look like you were in any pain, but still

he left you alone and just sat and worked again on his desk, sparing you a glance every now and then

you were trying out more positions that he's trying so hard to fight a grimace

he swears he feels a phantom ache somewhere on his back

mammon

the both of you were in his room (he dragged you there as soon as you got changed when you got home from rad)

you were laying on his couch, him sitting there too, and your legs over his lap

both of you were on your phones

the more focused on your phone you were, your legs somehow get raised into the air

he doesn't even notice it either

it was then ten minutes later he realizes the weight on his lap was gone, so he turns to his right to see you still there

but your legs bent all the way to your head

he jaw drops

he pulls at your legs, pulling them down back on his lap

"what the hell do you think you were doin', huh?!"

you don't even know

you just stare at each other

leviathan

listen, i know, we're going to be expecting you and levi to be playing games, don't come at me

anyway

you were sitting on the floor with him in front of his monitor, playing god knows what (you didn't understand him because he said the name too quickly)

you were sitting in indian seat, which didn't set any alarms in his head at first, since he's sitting like that too

but then you did this pose to get a good look at the monitor

i legit don't know how to describe it, so google came in clutch

levi looked at you with a grimace and worry

"mc... is that comfortable? or..."

you sit up straight and put your attention to him

"is what comfortable?"

he never got to answer because his character died

satan

he invited you to his room to show you books he recently bought

you were interested in one of the genres, and he pointed out a stack somewhere with the same ones

you went over and looked over the titles and found the one at the bottom sounding interesting

you did a split to slide to the bottom to get it

satan GAPED

and when you stood up just as casually he stared at you with his jaw still open

"uhm. there's a fly going inside your mouth"

"oh"

asmodeus

he read something about yoga in an article from the human world

so he's been curious about it so he asked you to show him what it is

he asked for something that doesn't need standing too much, and you coincidentally was already sitting on his bed

so you delivered

this pose

he gasped

"m- mc, dear! you're breaking your bones!"

"...but you were asking about yoga poses..."

"i will never ask again! sit up straight! sit properly! hurry! your beautiful legs!"

beelzebub

you both were exercising

but then you had to tie your shoe

he was about to offer to tie them for you, but then you sat down and bent all the way down to reach your shoes

he was horrified

"mc!!!!!"

he picks you up and straightens your body out

"mc! y- you could've broken your bones! are you okay????"

"i was just tying my shoe..."

yeah he'll be carrying you home on his shoulder

belphegor

you were sleeping in the attic

he had to go back to his room to get his favorite pillow

when he returns, he sees your body twisted around

his jaw drops 2.0

he approaches you, hovering his hands over your body, unsure of what to do

you didn't look like you were in any discomfort, but then again, you were asleep...

but then you moved on your own to sleep on your side, your body not horrifically twisted

he's still unsure

he just cuddles into you, subtly feeling for any broken bones and just sleeps on his worries

(he forgot humans were flexible)

I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG I WAS SO BUSY

i'm also sorry this is bland af......

[beautifuldisaster88]

Forever by my side

A/N: After coming across the gif, this idea randomly came to me. If I get the inspiration, I MIGHT make a part two. I used the same McKenzie/Kenzie, but you can picture reader as yourself or whoever you want. The only description of reader is; female, 17, eye color (mentioned only once) Rafe always called her 'bunny'

Summary: Rafe's girlfriend is John B's twin sister and he tells her everything. She's seen a lot of bad shit, but swore to always keep her mouth shut because she loves Rafe. Ward on the other hand becomes Paranoid that the Routledge girl will go to the sheriff, so he takes matters into his own hands, causing his son to finally snap.

Warnings: mentions of murder, actual murder, violence, Rafe seeing hallucinations not knowing it's not real, cursing, mentions of torture. I think that's it?

Rafe's tall frame appeared in the doorway. The young man looked at his father, Ward Cameron, as he made his way inside his office. What the hell did Ward want from him now? He didn't have time for this shit.

"What the hell do you want, dad? I already told you that I need to find-"

The dirty blonde was cut off by Ward, clearly making Rafe grow even more irritated.

"That's why I called you in here, son. You don't have to worry about that anymore. It's all been ta-"

Ward was then cutoff by a breaking news report on the TV. The older Cameron man sighed, knowing exactly what the news report was about. He was hoping to be the one to break it to Rafe before anyone else.

"Breaking News. Kildare County Sheriff's department was called out to the marsh earlier this morning, witnesses claiming they spotted a body."

The news reporter began, immediately catching Rafe's attention. He ignored his father, giving the TV his full attention. Outer Banks wasn't a big place, so it was more than likely that Rafe knew whoever's body was found. The last thing he ever expected to hear came next.

"According to Sheriff Shoupe, 17 year old McKenzie Routledge's body washed up early this morning. It's still unclear how the young girl died, and the Sheriff's department is currently undergoing an investigation. If you have any information we urge you to call the Sheriff's department. We will update you with new information as it becomes available. McKenzie left behind her twin brother, John B Routledge, not even a year after the death of their father. Our thoughts and prayers go out to her family and friends."

Rafe stood there frozen in place, his heart breaking and ears ringing, as tears fell from his eyes. Not his Kenzie, please, anyone but her. Who would want to hurt her, she was always nothing but sweet to everyone and she had no enemies. That's when it hit him.

He violently jerked his body around to face Ward, Rafe's blood already beginning to boil as his heart shattered into a million pieces.

"What the fuck did you do!?" Rafe screamed as he began to pace, jabbing his finger into his own chest. "I-I loved her, dad! She fucking saved me, saw me for me! W-why would you take her from me!? She never fucking hurt anyone!"

"Rafe, I need you to calm down. I did what I had to do.. to protect us... Protect you. The Routledge girl knew too much, and it was only a matter of time before she slipped up and told someone. She had to go, son. I did this for you."

Now Rafe was beyond angry, his vision immediately turning red, blurred with tears. He grabbed Ward by the collar of his shirt and slammed the older Cameron man violently against the wall. Rafe got right in his face, seething like a rabid animal. His piercing blue eyes were now dark.

"You didn't fucking do shit for me! You never have! You fucking killed her for your own selfish fucking needs! She's not like the other Pogues and she would have never opened her fucking mouth! You took away my only happiness! The only girl I have ever fucking loved! I swear to you, I will fucking kill you, but first I'm going to make you suffer, just like you did to my Kenzie. You're not my father, you're nothing but a pathetic, scared piece of shit. The scum on the bottom of my shoe. It's fucking over for you, Ward! I will avenge my love's death."

Rafe had his hand gripped around Ward's throat so tight, that he looked at the man with a sinister smile, tears still running down his face. He watched as Ward tried to gasp for air, clawing at his son's hand as his eyes and face began to turn colors. Rafe was going to kill Ward eventually, but first he wanted him to suffer, until he was begging Rafe to kill him.

A dark laugh rumbled deep from Rafe's chest, a clear sign that the Cameron boy had officially completely lost it. Ward tried to beg Rafe to stop, barely able to speak from his airway being cut off.

"Did you make my Kenzie beg for her life too, huh? Is the last thing you saw were those beautiful emerald green eyes filled with tears, begging you not to hurt her!? She was fucking innocent! Would've taken our secrets to her motherfucking grave... Which ironically enough, she did all because of you."

Rafe then began to repeatedly slam the back of Ward's head against the wall, over and over again, as his fist connected with Ward's face, jaw, nose, you name it. The Cameron boy beat the man he once looked up to to a bloody pulp, before literally dragging him down the stairs and into the basement, where he threw Ward inside the wine cellar.

Weeks went by, and nobody had heard from Ward. Rafe played the distraught son, acting like he was worried sick about his missing father, when the truth was he had him locked away where nobody would find him, Ward's days were numbered. Rafe had used every type of torture imaginable.

The worst part about the Cameron boy finally completely snapping? He held full on conversations with his Kenzie, as if she was standing right beside him, telling her that he was going to kill Ward for her. In Rafe's mind, Kenzie WAS there, even responding to him when he spoke.

"I love you, Rafey. I knew that I could always count on you to keep me safe. Once Ward is out of the picture, it'll be just you and me. We can finally leave this island and start our life together, away from everyone."

Rafe grinned like a maniac, looking directly at his Kenzie, when in reality he was looking at nothing. She wasn't there, she was dead, but he refused to believe that.

"I'll always protect you, bunny. This time next week, you and I will be on a private beach somewhere far away, sipping on cocktails and fucking under the sunlight. Ward is barely hanging on, and tomorrow is when we finally end him. I'm gonna marry you, Kenzie, yeah? Make you my wife and have a bunch of little ones running around. 'm gonna give you the world, baby."

Rafe caressed her cheek, actually caressing thin air, as he leaned his forehead against 'McKenzie's.

"I can't wait, Rafey. Now, come on, baby, we have a gruesome murder to prepare for. Don't listen when Ward tries to convince you that I'm not real. He's just trying to get you on his side, save his own ass. You can see me, touch me, feel me, you know I'm real, right baby?"

"Of course you're real, bunny. I don't believe anything Ward says, talking about he killed you. And they say I'm the crazy one? He's the one talking about you being dead, when I'm holding you in my arms right now."

The next night, Rafe murdered Ward, with his Kenzie by his side, cheering him on. He stabbed him over and over again, the same way that Ward had killed McKenzie, but in Rafe's mind both him and his Kenzie came up with the idea.

After disposing of Ward's body, the same exact way Ward had disposed of McKenzie's, Rafe packed his and Kenzie's bags and loaded up the truck. The two of them, in reality just Rafe, left the Outer Banks and never looked back.

[sage-shi]

•|𝕹𝖔𝖙 𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊 𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖘

|•|sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ᴀs ᴄʀᴏᴡʟᴇʏ ᴡᴀs ʟᴏᴏᴋɪɴɢ ғᴏʀ ʏᴜᴜs ᴡᴀʏ ʜᴏᴍᴇ, ʜᴇ ᴀᴄᴄɪᴅᴇɴᴛᴀʟʏ ʙᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴏɴᴇ ɪɴsᴛᴇᴀᴅ ᴏғ sᴇɴᴅɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ʙᴀᴄᴋ. ᴀᴛʟᴇᴀsᴛ ɴᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʀᴇғᴇᴄᴛ ɪsɴ'ᴛ ʟᴏɴᴇʟʏ. ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴇᴡ sᴛᴜᴅᴇɴᴛ ɪs ʀᴀᴛʜᴇʀ.....ᴘᴇʀᴄᴜɪʟɪᴀʀ

|°|ᴛᴡ: ᴄʀɪɴɢᴇ, ᴏᴏᴄ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀs, ɢʀᴀᴍᴍᴀʀ ᴍɪsᴛᴀᴋᴇs, ᴄᴜʀsɪɴɢ, ᴍᴀʏ ʙᴇ ᴏғғᴇɴsɪᴠᴇ

[ᴛʟ,ᴅʀ: 2013 ᴘɪᴄᴋ ᴍᴇ ʏ/ɴ ɢᴇᴛs ᴛʀᴀɴsᴘᴏʀᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴡsᴛ]

ᴋᴇʏs: {...} ғᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ ʏᴜᴜ

>>... ᴄʜᴏᴏsᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʀᴇsᴘᴏɴsᴇ

𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒆|𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑰

The sound of pen writing filled Crowleys' office as he focused on the work his staff had sent him to be filled.

A knock on the door broke him from his trance and he immediately wore his mask and urged the person out side to come in.

"Excuse me headmage..?" The door opened and Yuu came in, without Grimm. The scent of cold air, coffee, paper, and candles hitted them.

"Ah! My dear prefect, do you need something? I am quite busy." Crowley stopped his writing and gave Yuu his attention but remained seated. He had a friendly tone and smile on his face but was obviously rushing.

"I came to ask about the progress of sending me home." Yuu said in a worry tone with their hand behind their back.

"Ofcourse, ofcourse! I simply paused it as I still am a headmage with school duties as you can see." Crowley tapped his paperworks on his table to show the amount of work. "I'll continue searching when I have time."

Yuu smiled, "Thank you headmage!"

"Ah, my generosity has no bounds afterall!"

|Y/N POV|

The sun sepped through my curtains as I still continued playing on my PS5 after staying up all night playing shooting and horror games.

After playing for another hour, I finally got up, brushed my golden 6ft hair and wore some clothes I randomly picked from my closet. I didn't need to shower since I did it last night and all I did was play video games so I wasn't dirty.

I stared at reflection on the mirror. "*sighs* Other girls are so lucky to be pretty" I said while observing my sky blue crystal eyes, shiny straight hair, big bossoms, and hour glass shape body. *sighs*

Thankfully my parents weren't home so I went downstairs to make my self toast but realizing I'm late, I just placed it in my mouth and ran out the door.

Suddenly, a loud noise from my right errupted so I turned my gead to see a large black horse then I blacked out.

.

.

.

[???: 9:53 AM]

I began to hear faint whispers so I fluttered my eyes open. My vision began to clear and then I realized I was laying on the ground with handsome silhouettes dispite not seeing their faces.

"Oh no, was I kidnapped? This is the 101th time!" I thought as I just stared at the ground for a few moments. Then a hand came to my face and I looked up to see the most cuttest boy ever. He has this gorgeous short red hair and his pretty foggy blue eyes staring at me. I could practically feel myself faint again.

"Hello? Are you okay miss?" He spoke with his stern and hot voice. My body jolted due to panic amd blurted out my answer. "Y-yes!" I sat up and stared at his pretty eyes hoping he'll fall for me and wouldn't bully me since he is too pretty for that.

"See? She's fine"

"This scene kind of reminds me something~"

"____"

"Fufu~ I still remember how much 2nd hand embarrassment you gave half of the students"

Compared to the murmurs, this peoples' voices were more audible and all of the students here seems to be boys {but one girl? *huffs* I bet she's a pick me based on how she talked}

"Here, take my hand." The boy infront of me stood up and offered his hand like a prince. I took his hand and stood up stumbled so I feel into his arns. Which caught him off guard and tried to support me but he also stumbled down with me so I closed my eyes. After the thud, I then heard whispers, a few giggles and gasps that made my eyes open.

I opened my eyes and realized that I was kaebedoned to the ground by the cute boy. He had a smirk on gis face and said, "Are you alright, pretty?" I felt my entire face go up in flames and pushed him off of me.

"B-b-b-baka!" I yelled at him and he stared at me with a worry and apologetic look. He breathed heavily and I looked at his his. He looks like he was about to cry and then stood up to say something but a handsome and cutely pretty guy went behind him to calm him down.

"Oh no...did..did I make him cry?"

Suddenly, a tall man with a crow mask stood inbetween me and my misunderstood troupe soulmate.

"Now now, let's all calm down" The handsome voice man said to the cute boy. He then faced me, "Where are you from?" He asked while hotly looking down on me. "I-I-I'm from t-the US.." "Sounds unfamiliar." He placed his thumb in his chin the he looked at a student at the crowd. After that, he then stood up staright and announced to the students. "Everyone! This meeting is now dismmised. Yuu, kindly stay behind"

[Mirror chamber: 8:00AM]

|Yuu POV|

I stood among with the vice-house wardens since I was the prefect but not a housewarden so I was required to stand. The meeting was just about showcasing the top students or top club members.

"*yawns* I can feel myself passing out." I say in a tired tone. It was obvious that I didn't get enough sleep. So does Trey, Jade, and Jamil. But atleast they don't look like it.

Jamil then gave me a bottle of water he always prepares to bring. "Here. Some housewardens won't be happy if you did"

I took the water and turned to the wall to drink it and faced the front after.

>>Thank you Jamil!

>>Don't you only bring water bottles for Kalim?

●○●

>>Thank you Jamil!

Jamil: Mhm

-----

>>Don't you only bring water bottles for Kalim?

Jamil: Knowing you, I thought to bring an extra one. You fidget a lot and water helps.

Lilia: Aww, how sweet of you~

Rook: Réconfortant!

Jamil: *sighs*

●○●

[Mirror chamber: 9:53 AM]

As Crowley was giving a closing speech with Riddle on his side after he gave his part, the magic mirror glowed behind them. The crowd students began to talk which caught Crowley and Riddles attention. They looked behind them and the light became brighter.

Knowing what it meant, they immedietly went out of the way and a girl came out of the mirror. Passed out due to impact. With a piece of bread still in her mouth..

The odd sight made most of the atudents wake up and stare in shock

"Holy shit, is she dead?"

Jade: Possibly

Rook: This is deja vu, I feel!

I took a step foward but I was grabbed by the arm. I looked behind me and saw Cater, now standing and holding me back.

"Cater?"

"You're still pretty reckless, Prefect-chan" Cater said with a smile but with worry in his tone

"I starting to think you don't have danger senses" Trey chuckled.

Jamil: Realizing that only now?

Riddle prepared his magical pen and went to the stranger to make sure she was alive. As whispers began to grow louder, she woke up.

"Are you alright miss?" Riddle asked. The girl yelled yes and just strangely stared at Riddles' face.

Cater: See? She's fine.

Trey: This scene kind of reminds me something~

>>Ew. Please don't remind me

>>Poor girl...

Lilia: Fufu~ I still remember how much 2nd hand embarrassment you gave half of the students.

When she took Riddles' hand, she immefietly stumbled and caused Riddle to go down with her. Every student gasped and some stiffled their laugh.

The girl was kaebedoned by Riddle on the ground....

She looked shocked and flustered. While Riddle looked a bit pissed and in pain.

Jade: How the tables have turned...

Cater: Trey! Pre-code red!

But before Trey can say something, Riddle was harshly pushed back.

"B-b-b-baka!"

Shit. Riddles' face began to redden and the veins in his neck and foregead looked like they were about to pop.

Riddle stood up, now seething and was about to cut her head off. Thankfuly, Trey and Cater managed to reach him to calm him down. I looked at the girl and saw her face change from guilt to....awestruck?

Rook: Oh the beauté of mixed emotions!

"Trey and Cater are attractive but having heart eyes right after pushing someone..?"

Trey and Cater quickly guided Riddle off the stage and Crowley announced that the meeting is now dismissed.

"Yuu, kindly stay behind."

[TO BE CONTINUED]

[bruhhhh-huhhhhh]

i’m in need of junkerqueen angst and this is another song one, if you don’t mind of course.

You’re losing me - Taylor Swift

you may not be into her music which is perfectly fine just hear me out with the lyrics on this one.

“Do something, babe, say something. Lose something, babe, risk something. Choose something, babe, I got nothing to believe, unless you're choosin' me”

you see my vision here? the heart breaking angst that could be written here 🙏🙏

trust

You're Losing Me (Junkerqueen x reader)

Things hadn't been normal in a very long time. You didn't know what it was, but something just wasn't right. The love of your life hadn't been around as much as when the two of you moved in together.

The two of you were inseparable at first. She took you everywhere, even to confidential meetings. There was nothing you didn't do together. But a year or so back, she started acting weird. At first you thought it was just her being stressed out from work, so you tried to be patient. To be someone that she could talk to.

But nothing changed.

If anything, it got worse.

Odessa started staying out much later than you were used to. She didn't parade you around town as much. Didn't take you out at least once a week. Didn't let you go to meetings with her to let you sit on her lap while she made jokes about what people were saying.

Instead, it was you staying at home. You’d do laps around the house just to be able to move around. Wash the dishes and dry them and put them away and then decide to re organize everything because it didn’t make sense how it was. Decide that the way that you did it was dumb and then put it back to how it was originally. Then look at it again and decide that both ways were stupid so you re did it again. You’d wipe down counters and mop floors. Make the bed and then re-make the bed after you decide to lay down.

But nothing helps the ache in your chest. Nothing helps the way that you long for your girlfriend to be with you. To have her make you laugh. To have her pepper you in kisses and tell you how she loves you.

To have her

One day you decide you’ve had enough. You can’t wait around for her to realize how you’re feeling. Anytime you try to talk to her about it she’d just brush it off and say, “we’ll do something together soon.” But soon never came. Soon was some intangible thing that you could never seem to reach, always being pushed back. It was always right there, so close. But it was also always so far away, ungraspable.

So you write a note. It has every emotion that you’re too scared to tell her in person. Every time that she left you to your own emotions. Every time she left you to comfort yourself.

Every time she left you

Every time she decided that she had better things than you.

You, who waited until ungodly hours of the morning for her.

You, who was always there for her.

You, who wanted nothing more than for her to choose her the way you chose her.

You, who loved her more than anything.

You, who never got that love back.

Everything you wanted to scream at her was right on that piece of paper. Every emotion you could never seem to verbalize before was there.

But, of course, Dez took that time to come home early.

She had already been having a shitty day. No clue why, but she had been. She woke up from sleeping on the couch, not wanting to risk waking you and hearing your endless questions, and went to go make coffee like she normally did. Except she couldn’t find her mug because you kept moving it, so she had to spend half an hour looking for it, only to realize that you had set it out by the coffee maker. Then she spilled it on her lap, making her have to change clothes. The shower blasted her with freezing cold water randomly. She couldn’t find the pair of clothes that she wanted to wear to a really important meeting. She was then late to said really important meeting.

All in all, her day was shit.

And it got worse when she say you at the same counter where you left her coffee mug, writing a note with bags packed. Her heart dropped into her stomach.

“What’re ya doin?” Dez asked.

You jumped, not expecting her to be home, and cringed as you turned around. You were just re-reading the note for the millionth time, trying to convince yourself to throw it away and go back to your room.

“I’m…I’m leaving, Odessa.”

“…what?”

You never used her full name. Never. It was always Dez or Dessa or “My Queen.” Never Odessa.

“I said I’m leaving. I can’t take this anymore.”

“Can’t take what? Living in the luxury that I provide for you?”

The venom in her words shocked you. It was unexpected and hurt a lot more than you thought it would. Apparently the walls that you had built up to prevent this weren’t as effective as you had hoped.

“The luxury that you provide for me isn’t what I want, Odessa. I want you. But I can never seem to have you anymore. You’re always out doing something else. Sleeping on the couch to avoid me. Telling me that we’ll do something together soon and then soon never comes. I’m tired of it. I can’t…I can’t live like this.”

Your words shocked the both of you. Odessa looked at you, a mix of shock and concern on her face. But that mixed look changed to rage. How dare you?

“Excuse me? I have a whole damn country to run. Pardon me for not being able to spend every waking moment with you. What is it that you do, anyway?”

Your sorrow quickly changed to rage at her words. “What is it that I do? I make sure that you come home to a clean house. I clean everything a million times over. I go and get groceries and then make your breakfast, lunch, and dinner out of said groceries and then go and get more. I make sure that the water in the shower is hot enough so that you can take as long as you may need to destress. I offer myself as comfort and solace for you, but you’re “too busy” to pay any attention. I’m fucking done! I don’t deserve this! God fucking damnit, Odessa, open your eyes!” You shouted back.

The queen in front of you just stared in shock. You’d never, ever spoken to her like that.

Ever.

When she didn’t respond, you got angrier. “Jesus, say something. Do something, Odessa! I need you to choose.” Your voice softened. “And by god I need you to choose me. I need you to choose me so bad because you’re my everything. You’re my everything and I don’t know who I am without you. But if I’m not your everything too then I’m leaving.”

Still, Odessa didn’t say a word. It was like her mouth was glued shut. Tears had started streaming down your cheeks at some point and you angrily wiped them away. “You’re about to loose me and you won’t even any anything. Great to know. Goodbye, Odessa Stone. Goodbye.”

And with that, you were gone. You’d picked up your bag and walked out the front door, slamming it behind you. All while Odessa just watched.

It was after you left that Odessa came to her senses. Everything in her screamed to chase after you, to beg you to come back. But what good would that do? Instead, the giant of a woman slowly walked to the counter and read your note.

She couldn’t even finish it before the tears started. She sobbed as she read how you were feeling. As she realized what she had been doing to you. God, she deserved this.

She had all of Junkertown and yet she couldn’t even keep you.

Odessa sunk to the floor, clutching the last thing of yours that she had as she cried.

[staring-at-my-keyboard]

Chatting over Dinner

An isolated moment shared between a family, some of which are interdimensional travelers.

୨⎯✎✎⎯୧

Just a Gravity Falls Blind Faith AU snippet that was the result of me wondering about the character dynamics of the BF twins and the Pines after said twins stumbled through one of the scattered rifts that the Pines were fixing in 'Lost Legends'.

୨⎯✎✎⎯୧

Fluff

Comedy

TWs:

⇾ none!

Blind Faith twins: Sixer & Lee

Canon Mystery Twins Classic: Ford & Stan

୨⎯✎✎⎯୧

“So I says: ‘Which one of us here has more eyes?’ Then wham! He stabs me!” Lee recounted, punctuating himself by slamming a fist on the table, causing the silverware to rattle. Mabel gasped, and the Fords jumped.

Sixer frowned. “Not h-how it- it- it went… at all.”

“That’s how it went because I say that’s how it went,” Lee argued flatly. “Tell me again, which one of us goes on useless rambles about the 'inherent non-existence of objective truth' or whatever the hell?”

“N- not in th-this… this instance.” Sixer retorted.

“What, so stuff is only up in the air if it’s convenient for you? Like that one time you denied eating all the walrus butter?” 

Sixer opened his mouth, paused, then sank back in his chair, tips of his ears red.

“Uh-huh. I thought so.”

“Walrus… butter?” Dipper cocked his head.

“Kinda similar to peanut butter, believe it or not- at least in that dimension. It was for seeing stuff that normally wouldn’t exist with normal human eyes, even ones like this-“ Stan gestured to his bionic one with one hand and shoveled potatoes into his mouth with the other, with a mumbled ‘damn these are good.’

“Woah! Ford never mentioned anything like that!” Dipper enthused. “Can you tell me more?”

Stan said something through his food that was along the lines of ‘Can you let a guy eat a meal first?’, although it came out more like “C’n y’l guy eath’meal f’rth?”

“How did you acquire that, by the way?” Ford inquired, gesturing to Lee’s eye while halfway through eating a tomato like an apple. “I’ve found precious few worlds whose cybernetic offerings even rarely cater to the human body, much less a part of it as complicated as the eye.”

“Well, Sixer here made it for me!” Lee answered, practically glowing with pride. “He even retrofitted it with heat and night vision! Pretty awesome, if I do say so myself.”

“Really?” Ford leaned towards his counterpart. “Do you still have the schematics? If so, you’ll have to show me at some point. I’ve always struggled with combining biology and technology harmoniously, but you’ve done a wonderful job here.”

“See, that’s what I keep telling ‘im, but for some reason he insists on disagreeing with me.” Lee tutted.

“Could… could be b- b- better.” Sixer mumbled. 

Lee let out an exasperated sigh.

“Well, yes, everything could be better, but that doesn’t negate the quality of its existence in the present,” Ford reassured, before standing and leaning over the table towards an increasingly confused Lee. “Regardless of what may be missing, this is still remarkable! I wouldn’t even know where to begin in suggesting improvement! If I could…”

Ford came dangerously close to just manhandling Lee’s face before Stan grabbed his sweater and hauled him back down into his seat.

He swatted the back of Ford’s head. “Give a man some space, you dork,” Stan turned to Lee apologetically. “Sorry about him.”

“Please. Do you know how many times my Ford has just randomly grabbed my face when he thought my eye was glitching? Plot twist: it never was.”

Both Fords groaned.

[runawrites-blog]

Lies (Loki x Reader)

Summary: You are a clairvoyant and have a horrible dream of Loki’s death at the hands of Thanos. Loki is there to calm you down when you wake up, but you fear that it might have been a vision of the future. (Gender Neutral Reader) Word Count: 1,107 Warnings: Nightmares, Implied Character Death/ Character Death in a Dream, Mild Violence, Thanos, No Use of Y/N, Petnames (Little Dove) Crossposted on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19781032

--- “You will never be a god.“

Those were the last words you would ever hear of Loki speak, the man you loved more than anything and who had promised you to always be by your side.

The horrific crack that could be heard as his neck snapped in two in Thanos' unforgiving grip made you fall to your knees. You tried your hardest not to break down. Tears ran down your face as you saw your lover’s dead body fall limp onto the floor.

“No resurrections this time.”

You crawled over to Loki, not even caring whether Thanos was already gone or he'd kill you, too. The only thing you had left was Loki. Thanos had destroyed your home, murdered everyone you'd held dear, and now he had taken the only person who you had left. Crying your heart out seemed like the reasonable thing to do and you let yourself fall halfway onto Loki’s chest.

Your body was wracked with sobs as you felt for a heartbeat at his wrist, his chest, or anywhere that you hadn’t checked before. Yet, you did detect no heartbeat. Loki was dead and you would never see him again.

Never again would you hear his voice. Never again would he tease you, trick you or prank you. Never again would you feel his warmth or see his smile. Never again would he hold you. And funny enough the first thought that popped in your head was to talk to Loki about this and find comfort in him, but that could never happen again.

Another sob wracked your body as you came to terms with the fact that he was in fact dead. You didn’t know what to do or how to move on from this. In the background, you could hear Thor calling out to you but you didn’t listen.

When you didn’t listen, Thor tried to drag you away, his own eyes filled with tears. You didn’t listen; you just clung to Loki’s body harder. Thor eventually sat down next to you, apparently giving up on trying to move you, tears now running down his face.

You didn’t look at him, didn’t talk to him. All you did was cling to Loki and cry as you felt the warmth leaving his body.

Nothing mattered anymore. Loki was dead.

—

You awoke with a strangled scream, bolting upright in bed. A quick look around confirmed to you that you were in your room on the Asgardian escape ship. Quickly, you put a hand to your mouth, trying to stop yourself from sobbing too loudly. As the contents of your dreams came back to you, a fresh wave of tears assaulted your eyes, and only then did you notice that you were crying.

A voice from next to you called out your name.

Turning your head, you saw Loki, breathing and looking at you. Without a second thought, you flung yourself at him, clinging to his frame and breaking down in earnest. The god didn’t know what was wrong but wrapped his arms around you nonetheless.

“What happened?”

“Night-- nightmare.” You managed to choke out. “Or a vision of the future. Oh, I hope it’s not the latter one.”

“A vision?” Loki asked softly. You were a clairvoyant but your visions only ever came randomly, sometimes in dreams even. “What happened in your vision to make you weep like this, my little dove?”

The thought of recounting this nightmare to Loki made you cry even harder, your breathing now coming out in short gasps.

“You can tell me later but for now I need you to breathe, little dove.” He whispered, hoping the pet name would calm you down a little. He then slowly began to trace shapes into your back. “Focus on my touch and voice, could you do that for me?”

You nodded and sobbed again, trying to focus solely on the shapes he traced onto your back and his soft voice.

“I am sure it was not a vision. Perhaps it was simply a nightmare and you are so insistent on it being a vision that you frightened yourself like this.” He whispered, slowly beginning to trace a star onto your back.

“Is that a star you're tracing?"

“It is indeed. Well done, my little dove.” He whispered and began to trace a heart onto your bare skin. “Can you find this one out, as well?”

“A heart.”

“Another job well done. You are breathing more evenly now. You did well.”

Slowly, you leaned back into him. “You died.”

“I died?” He asked softly. “I am right here.”

“In my dream, I mean.” You clarified. “Thanos, he wanted the Tesseract from us and he snapped your neck. You lay there, cold and unmoving. It was horrifying.”

“And why did he murder me in your dream?”

“You had the Tesseract with you, instead of it being destroyed on Asgard. I've been afraid that you had taken it for the duration of this journey.” You whispered.

You felt Loki swallowed and looked up at him. “Don’t fret, my dove. It was destroyed with Asgard.”

“Are you lying to me?” You whispered.

“Would you be able to go back to sleep?”

“I suppose, I would be able to.” You mumbled. “Loki, could I lay my head on your chest? I would like to hear your heartbeat.”

“Of course.” He gently maneuvered the two of you back onto the bed, your head on his chest. “Like so?”

You wrapped an arm around him and listened to his heartbeat, nodding slowly. It was a steady rhythm against your ear and you were calm within seconds. Loki put a hand onto your head to hold it on his chest and you began to trace little shapes onto his chest, closing your eyes.

“Loki?”

“Yes?”

“Can you promise me that whatever happens, you will try to survive?”

“I cannot.” He said quietly.

“Why?” Your voice was shaking again.

“Should it be your life or mine, I would always choose your life.” He explained in a calm, yet sad voice.

“I don’t want you to sacrifice your life for mine!” You protested.

A small chuckle vibrated in his chest “Have I ever done as you told me to?”

“Could you at least promise me that you will fight to survive as much as possible? That you will not let him kill you easily?” You whispered into the darkness.

“That I can promise you.” Loki whispered. “Now sleep, my dove.”

“Sleep well, love.�� You whispered, holding onto him. “And promise me to stay by my side should Thanos find us.”

“I will always stay by your side.”

Lies.

[yoobitt]

Okay, I wanted to share just a little of what I think could happen on s8 (around just buddie) because the thought came to me so randomly that I can't stop thinking about it.

Paralleling to s4, Eddie gets injured in the big call at the start of the season (maybe on 8x03), leaving this space free for Buck to watch on Eddie and 'moving in' with him because he knows that Eddie will need him yes or yes. This maybe will cause 'trouble' on Buck's relationship with Tommy, causing the inevitable breakup + other pileup problems surrounding the differences between them, the 118 and Gerrard (bc i know he will be there to cause trouble somehow).

So, after Buck moves in with Eddie, he will try to convince him about returning to therapy, and because Christopher isn't there, Eddie will try to do his best to heal for him and his son (and for Buck too).

Healing will be the first step inside his internal journey to try and discover 'what is wrong with him'. This will lead to an Eddie Begins Again, where we can see his childhood, how's growing up inside a Mexican-Catholic house, how he ended up with Shannon and the guilty behind her pregnancy and the pressure of a wedding, maybe we can see hints of him feeling 'different' around boys and how this affected him and his decisions with the relationship around Shannon before marriage. And as we know, the Begin's episodes are in between present calls, maybe this time is a call where Buck is in danger and Eddie is trying to save him, to not lose him because he's feeling a lot and he's now capable of process all of these feelings thanks to therapy. Probably the episode will end with both okay but Eddie feeling empty with the thought of his life without Buck.

This can lead to the Christmas episode before mid-season break. Nobody is cheerful enough to do celebrations (paralleling to s3), Christopher is still in Texas and Buck is just there with Eddie. They talk about therapy (I can only imagine this talk on Eddie's kitchen), how Eddie was scared at the thought of losing Buck, they will probably touch the shooting and the will (s4) and how Buck felt the same back then and that's why he moved in with him now (at the start of the season) after his accident. Buck probably will start to notice the pattern and have his 'oh' moment right there, leading Eddie to take the risk and ask Buck "can I?" before kissing him.

This time, Eddie doesn't panic, maybe he's worried about making Buck uncomfortable but they just continue kissing. Maybe Buck runs away but he lets Eddie know that he isn't doing anything wrong, he just needs a minute to process what happened and that's when the mid-season ends, with Buck 'leaving' Eddie but with Eddie feeling full of emotions and with Buck's heart on his hands because he knows Buck enough to understand him.

s8b will just be Buddie navigating through their feelings and this new relationship between them. They will need to understand why this doesn't feel completely different from when they were just 'best friends' and understanding that now they can kiss freely, feeling this sense of power just with the thought of both being a real couple now and how their dynamics inside the 118 are just the same as always. Everything cam feel weird because they wouldn't know what to do now but nothing too bad, just funny moments of them being touchy and more happy and the whole 118 will be on this kind of limbo of suspiciousness (Tim could give us a 2 episodes of secret relationship with funny calls, lighthearted moments, jealousy) before they can't keep their feelings as a secret and start spilling the tea to all.

Eddie will continue the therapy and Buck will continue living with Eddie until Christopher cames back and starts asking questions, and I just hope for him not to freak out or give Buddie a hard moment (paralleling to s4/s7 with the whole Ana thing and people leaving like Shannon, etc.) because I'll lose my shit if that happens.

But yeah, this is my vision of what I imagined for next season. I'm so excited for what's next and jumping with excitement at the thought of Eddie being a gay character CANON. Tim cannot leave him without that arc, that's the only thing that needs to happen yes or yes, I cannot watch any other woman near Eddie because that man is GAY.

This are just my thoughts but please, be respectful and don't throw pebbles at me pls :((