#somehow this knowledge never reached me for ages

[foundfamilyhq]

[katakaluptastrophy]

The ships … the ships were still full of people. I reached our hand out into space. I extended. I struggled. He said, I bit through the sun first. It’s human nature. That started things going.

Imagine being on those ships (and remember, not everyone in those ships was a nefarious trillionaire) zooming away from earth.

Maybe you've watched mushroom clouds blossoming across the face of the earth as you pulled away, the lines of communication fizzing out and going dead.

Watched...something...happen to the earth. Watched the sun flare and then flicker out.

I sliced through Venus, Mercury, Mars … by that point a couple of the tugs had already launched through the Kuiper. I had to kill Jupiter and Saturn in a fucking hurry. I reached … they blinked away from me … all I could do was hope that they’d watched what I was doing and all died from fucking terror. You and I went full fucking Hungry Caterpillar. We took Uranus … Neptune … crunched down Pluto … found every satellite and craft, reached in, crunched up all the humans, moved on.

You try to make contact with the installations as you pass - the small city on Mars, the helium-3 capture facility at Jupiter, the mines on Saturn's moons, the skeleton crew constructing the shell on Uranus, the Kuiper platform. Maybe the comms are eerily quiet. Or perhaps, you make contact for just a moment, enough time to witness what happens when god doesn't kill people "clean".

As you speed away, the rings of the gas giants burst asunder and the planets seem to desaturate, the readings go haywire as their magnetic fields suddenly destabilise. And something, oh god, something seems to slip away from each one, some absolute acid trip of horror, like some kind of writhing, fleeing ghost.

The moment I found the fleet spinning up to enter FTL, it was too late … I could only grab one of them … and you and I held it in the palm of our hand. I was in there with them. All those frightened people. All those runaway rats.

And then something physically stops one of the ships. Alarms are going off, sparks are flying, lights are flickering, and there's a horrifying sense of presence (if John feeling Alecto's presence was unremitting screaming inside his head, what does the presence of the newly combined John and Alecto feel like? Because I don't think that invovles less eldritch psychic screaming, somehow).

And then you break free, and spin off into some kind of warp of time and space, with the knowledge that you are the last humans left alive in the universe and that something truly terrible lurks on the husk of the earth.

Imagine 5000 years of that tale being passed down through humanity (that's equivalent to the time that passed between the stone age and the present day), as civilisations rose and fell across planets and systems.

And then imagine, one day, being the ship that encountered something they'd never seen before. A ship, of an entirely unfamiliar design, bearing an unfamiliar symbol: a skull. The whole ship is covered in bones. Sleek, designed, inlaid bones. Human bones.

When they hail you, you see humans, but not like you've seen before. They're dressed in strange outfits: military uniforms and robes that look like something from a textbook of the most ancient history. They're carrying swords. Swords! Many of them seem starved and sickly, as if their bodies are consuming themselves. They speak of their empire and their god in strange, archaic words - an impossibly ancient language from the earth that was - of the resurrection of the dead, of the Lord over the River, of necromancy.

And you realise that however horrifying the tales of the earth's death in fire, there are things worse than death.

[pastanest]

Spencer Reid x she/her!reader

A/N: I am currently obsessed w the premise of a reader who is just totally smitten by the super shy and introverted Reid from early seasons bc he deserved SO MUCH MORE APPRECIATION it upsets me at least thrice a day!

gif creds: @themoontaxi

Heaven Sent

“There’s an old Buddhist saying that, when you meet your soulmate, remember that the act to bring you together was 500 years in the making.” Spencer tells you with a thoughtful expression as you perch on his desk, smiling down at him in his office chair, your heart lifting in your chest as he continues. “So always appreciate and be kind to each other - there’s a corollary for friends!” And just like that, your heart falls back into place, but your smile doesn’t falter, there’s no way that it can when you’re still looking at him. “When you meet a true friend, you will be bound together through space and time for 500 years.” Spencer ends his tidbit of trivia with a smile that very nearly sends you flying from his desk and into orbit.

As per usual, you try to keep your cool, offering him a beaming smile. “Bound together through space and time for 500 years, eh? For a Buddhist quote, that does sound a bit Doctor-Who.” You tease lightly, and when Spencer’s eyes crinkle with a laugh that you have brought him, you feel all 500 years spent drifting through space to find him, smack you right in the chest.

“It does, actually, you make a great point!” Your favorite genius chuckles up at you, a look in his eyes that has you reaching the same conclusion to the age-old philosophical question of whether heaven is real, because every time Spencer Reid looks you in the eye, you know you could argue to the ends of the earth with any philosopher that tries to tell you it isn’t. 

“Alright, Doc, I’m gonna go take a scheduled pee break but I expect another fascinating fact from you on my return!” You order playfully as you hop off of his desk, never any malice or sarcasm in your voice when you regard his seemingly endless knowledge. Spencer feels the sincere love you have for his facts, something few people have shown him. 

“I’ll try my best, but I can’t promise anything!” Spencer calls after you as you stroll towards the bathroom, your phone already in your hands, frantically typing a few texts to your best friend.

You: good god

You: I want him

You: so bad

Spencer’s retort catches you off guard, your thumbs slipping on your phone as you turn to look back at him, walking backwards and continuing to type without looking. 

“Spencer Reid, if there is ever anything that you can promise me, it’s a new fact with a few minutes prep, don’t lie to me!” You joke right back to him, the two of you sharing a laugh across the office as you reach the bathroom and disappear behind the door.

As you lean against the bathroom door, you release the breath you were holding in your lovesick chest and smile so hard your face hurts. In the midst of your recovery from such a wholesome interaction with your favorite person, you hit send on the text you’d typed, your eyes closed as you relive Spencer’s smile again and again.

You: it physically hurts

Then, your phone makes a peculiar sound that causes your heart to sing. Spencer’s text tone, specially selected so that you never get your hopes up at anyone else’s text tone coming through. As if your thoughts summoned him, Spencer has texted you, despite the fact you were speaking to him mere seconds ago. However, as you glance down at your phone to see his message, your blood runs cold. Much to your absolute horror, you have somehow managed to send that last message you typed and sent without looking, not to your best friend like the previous messages, but directly to the subject of the conversation.

Spencer: What physically hurts? Are you okay? Do you need help? 

The panic response in your body is so real it’s scary, every fiber of your being screaming in utter hysteria as you run your hand through your hair with eyes like a deer in headlights. This is the worst possible mistake to have made, but, maybe you can white-lie your way out of this, since that message didn’t mention Spencer by name. Frantically, you type out your response back to him.

You: Spencer I am so sorry omg Im fine that message was not meant for you 

Nodding to yourself, you take some deep breaths. Spencer is never one to invade a person’s privacy outside of it being professionally required to do so and by revealing so little in your reply, you are communicating that the matter is private and was unintentionally, partially revealed to him. 

Spencer: Oh, okay. Still, if you are in any kind of pain, please let me know; if there is anything I can do to help/anything I can get you, I will.

And, of course, Doctor Spencer Reid manages to make you smile like an idiot with such a simple, sweet text.

You: thanks, Spence, that’s really kind of you. Im ok tho, I promise!! :)

Spencer: Hold on, you went to the bathroom and complained of pain - is it your menstrual cycle? I have towels and tampons in my desk.

Your eyes widen at his boldness, but also sweetness, to ask such a thing. How cute, he thinks you’re embarrassed to admit to him that you are on your period and not at all completely humiliated by your massive crush on him, almost being exposed in its entirety because you were, ironically, distracted by him.

You: nono, trust me, Im ok!! 

Frowning in sudden confusion, you are quick to type out another text before Spencer responds to your first one.

You: why do you have those?

Spencer: I am a doctor, I work with people who menstruate and should not have to pay for such things if I have some that I can provide for free. 

And he has you smiling like a lovesick idiot. Again. 

You: wow, that’s really sweet Spence :’)

Spencer: Is It? Thank you! B)

Another confused frown furrows your brow as you stare at your phone screen quizzically.

You: what’s “B)”

Spencer: Sunglasses face. A cool guy. B) 

God bless this man and his total inability to use actual emojis, you are having to stifle your laughter with a hand over your mouth because otherwise you are certain the entire office would hear you.

You: omg of course it is! so cute!!

Spencer: B)

The second you see it on your screen again, you are trying to contain your laughter a second time. His ability to be completely and utterly adorable is unmatched.

Spencer: You have been in the bathroom for some time and have not yet clarified the reason for texting someone that you were in physical pain. Are you absolutely certain that you are alright? 

Panic begins to set in again as you consider your options, none of which including confessing the truth from within the bathroom stall you are hiding in.

You: look, I cant tell you the reason I texted that but I promise you I am absolutely fine!! 

The moment the ‘read’ symbol appears by your last text, there’s a knock at the bathroom door.

“Hey sweetpea, boy-wonder told me you were in some kind of pain, is everything alright in there? Do you need a tamp? A hot water bottle? Some soup? A-” While your dear friend, Penelope Garcia, continues to list things that you could possibly need, through the bathroom door, you are frantically typing to Spencer again.

You: did you send Pen over here

He responds diligently, of course.

Spencer: I am sorry if I have breached your privacy at all, I thought you might feel more comfortable talking to Penelope about whatever is going on, but I hope you know you can always talk to me about anything.

Sighing and closing your eyes in a pained blink, you call out. “I’m fine, Pen, seriously!”

But, ever the carer of the team, Penelope will not let that slide. “Well, I’m not leaving until you come out here and prove it to me.”

Now, you are physically and emotionally cornered. There is absolutely no way that Penelope will let you out of here without an explanation, and there is absolutely no way that you can lie to her, either. Alright, time to bite the bullet.

“Pen…if I come out, you must promise to take me straight to your office and I’ll tell you everything, but you cannot tell a soul, okay?” You ask her through the door, and you can practically hear the gossip-loving cogs in her brain turning on the other side.

“You got it, sweetness! C’mon out!” Penelope calls, and you take a deep breath, shoving your phone in your back pocket before unlocking the door and stepping back into the office.

Immediately, Penelope swings an arm around you and leads you to her office with haste. All the while, you can feel a certain pair of very attractive, swoon-inducing eyes on you, worrying after you.

The second you are alone together in her office, Penelope sits you down and pulls her chair up to sit opposite you, taking ahold of your hands.

“Spill it!”

You sigh, avoiding her eyes. “This is about to be the most humiliating confession of my life.”

Penelope’s eyes widen, her pupils practically dilating at the raised stakes of what this gossip could entail. “No, no, come on, this is a safe space!”

You nod. “I know, I know, but…admitting aloud to any member of the team is something I hoped I’d avoid forever.” You chuckle in disbelief. “Basically, I was texting my friend some very private things and then got distracted by Spencer and accidentally sent him one of the texts- it’s probably just easier if I show you.” You decide, retrieving your phone and showing her the texts you had originally been sending to your best friend, then the one you accidentally sent to Spencer. 

Penelope’s jaw drops. “Oh my goodness! Who are you talking about in those texts?!”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Go on, Pen, take a guess. Who is the one person I wouldn’t want to find out about my crush, except for the crush himself.”

And Penelope Garcia’s jaw has hit the floor, she is in a state of shock. So severely, in fact, you have to wave a hand in front of her face.

“Earth to Penelope?” You ask, amused. 

She blinks rapidly at you, her spirit seemingly returning to her as she starts to squeal. “Ohmygosh, ohmygosh, ohmygosh! I knew it, I absolutely knew it!”

Then, your phone dings, a text tone that sends goosebumps rippling up your arm. 

Spencer: Is everything okay? I am sorry if I upset you by telling Penelope, I was just concerned for you. Can I talk to you before we leave for the day, please?

Without hesitation, you show the text to Penelope, seeking her moral support in your time of need. “Now that you know what’s going on, please help me, what the hell am I supposed to do?!”

The technical analyst spins in her chair, typing away on her keyboard before bringing up a direct feed of one of the security cameras inside the main office. The two of you can see Spencer, sitting at his desk with his bag and coat on, ready to leave for the day, but glancing between his phone and the text he’s sent you that’s now showing as ‘read’ and Penelope’s office door, with a worried expression.

“Honestly, sweetpea, I don’t think you’ve got a choice but to tell him. The two of you are so close, he’ll see right through any white-lie you tell him and worry even more that he’s done something to upset you. The most painless way out of this is to just tell him the truth.” Penelope says, wincing at her own words as she looks at you because she knows how much it would hurt to have someone tell her that, if she were in your situation. 

Looking back up at Spencer on the monitor, seeing his worried expression, your heart aches at the thought of making him overthink about something he’s said or done, never wanting to cause him that kind of distress.

Sighing in defeat, you nod. “You’re right, Pen.”

Fixing your gaze back on your phone screen, you start to type, not missing the way Spencer’s eyes light up on the monitor at the notification of you typing back to him.

You: sorry Spence, I didn't mean to worry you, I'm all good! now coming :)

As silly as it is, the smiley face you send him brings a small smile to Spencer’s actual face, and that gives you the only confidence you need to rise from your seat. 

“Good luck, sweetness!” Penelope squeals, pulling you into a hug before practically shoving you out of her office.

Stepping into Spencer’s line of sight, he immediately starts walking over to you.

“Hey, I’m so sorry that I told Garcia, I know I shouldn’t have-” He begins to ramble, but your smile stops him in his tracks.

“You don’t need to apologize, Spencer, I promise, everything is fine. Are you ready to head out?” You ask him as he follows you over to your own desk, so that you can collect your own jacket and bag. 

“Y-Yeah.” He replies nervously, very obviously still worrying because you haven’t told him the whole truth yet, rendering him unable to settle.

The two of you walk to the elevator in silence, but as the doors close, isolating the two of you, you take a deep breath.

“You’re going to think my explanation is ridiculous, just to pre-warn you.”

Spencer frowns seriously, turning to face you, giving you his full attention. “Nothing you say is ever ridiculous, not to me. What’s going on?” His voice is so soft that it has you weak at the knees, which does not make this any easier. 

“I was texting a friend of mine and then carried on typing when I looked back to answer you, meaning I accidentally sent the next text to you.” The explanation is simple, in essence, but Spencer is nodding along like you are reciting some holy scripture. Biting the bullet completely this time, you pass Spencer your phone with shaking hands, allowing him to read the texts you sent your friend.

“But…you sent these after talking with me? While still talking with me?” He asks quizzically, for a moment blinded by his own obliviousness and a sadness settles in his heart because he truly believes you were thinking of some other guy when just speaking to him, but as the more logical conclusion presents itself to him, Spencer’s eyes widen.

You are unable to look at him, your gaze fixed on the closed elevator doors in front of you as you gently take your phone and conceal it back in your pocket. “Yep.” Is, somehow, the only word you can muster. 

Spencer parts his lips to speak, but the elevator doors open, and you all but make a break for it.

“Sorry. See you tomorrow, Spencer.” You blurt out hurriedly as you speed walk out of the building and into the parking lot, feeling physically sick as tears blur your vision, knowing you have single handedly ruined whatever wonderful friendship Spencer appreciates you for sharing with him, knowing your fate of a tear soaked pillow awaits you the second you arrive home. 

“(Y/N), wait, please!” Spencer calls out after you, his voice alone strong enough to stop you on your march. 

Turning to face him, Spencer’s heart breaks at the sight of the tears escaping your eyes. “Spencer, I am so, so sorry. I know you don’t like physical contact, I know you have never so much as glanced at me in the only way I’ve ever been able to look at you, and I want you to know I tried absolutely everything to stop myself falling for you because I didn’t want to put you in an uncomfortable situation like this, but every new thing I learn about you just makes me love you more than I thought possible and every time you smile at me you remind me what the definition of beautiful is, as though I’d ever forget when you exist to be just that in every conceivable way, and I’m so sorry or making you worry and care for me and that now you’ve got no choice but to process all of this and with your eidetic memory you’re not going to be able to forget it which makes things even more awkward for you and-”

Spencer interrupts your breathless, tearful ramble by pulling you into his arms, tucking your head into his chest.

“Breathe, (Y/N), please.” He asks, so softly, with such care and compassion you can only cry into his coat. 

For a few minutes, that is how you stay, crying in his arms as he holds you there, gently shushing you, one hand rubbing your back and the other holding your head to his chest, his fingertips caressing your hair in a way that makes it very difficult for you to focus on anything else. But, when Spencer hears your tears settle into sniffles, your breaths returning to normal, he parts his lips to speak.

“500 years through time and space.” He says, a small smile curling at the corner of his mouth.

Unfortunately, in your heartbroken state, you don’t quite catch on. “Yeah, friends have always got to be kind and appreciate each other, I remember.” You nod, pulling away from Spencer to wipe your eyes. 

As your vision clears, you see the smile on his face, and Spencer shakes his head at you. “The saying is specifically tailored to soulmates, I only added the friendship clarification because I didn’t want to be too forward.” He holds your gaze, reading your eyes as you return to the wavelength you’ve always shared. “Actually, the next fact I was going to tell you when you came out of the bathroom, the new fact you asked for on your return, was going to be that a study conducted by the University of California found that when someone is in love, their heartbeat synchronizes itself with that of the person they are in love with. And I was, then, going to ask to check your heart-rate, because I am a Doctor, after all.” He chuckles bashfully, pulling the stethoscope from his bag and shyly hiding it in there again once you acknowledge it.

There’s no way you can keep your cool at this point, the bright smile on your face is impossible to conceal. “How long have you had that stethoscope in there in preparation for telling me that fact?”

Spencer does not hesitate with his answer. “4 months, 18 days and 6 hours.”

You nod slowly. “So, you’ve been sure for a while, then?”

Spencer nods back at you, his own smile widening. “For 4 months, 18 days, 6 hours and 3 minutes, to be exact.”

You can’t help giggling at that. “500 years, 4 months, 18 days, 6 hours, and 3 minutes later, here we are. Sorry, I took the long way round.” You joke, taking a nervous step towards him, and Spencer meets you halfway. 

“I think we both did.” His words are quiet, his breath on your lips as he leans down to you, smile to smile and heart to heart for the first time in your lives. 

It’s you that rises to your tiptoes to close the final gap between you, your lips meeting his and immediately sighing against them, truly feeling that you have waited each and every one of those 500 years for this kiss alone. Spencer’s large hands cup your face so gently, and your hands hold his there, stars and butterflies whirling around you in a bliss shared between two souls that took their sweet time in coming back to each other. 

As a thought enters your mind, you break away from the kiss to laugh lightly.

“What is it?” Spencer asks quietly, but he’s already laughing with you.

“Two hearts, beating together?” You say, giggling to yourself as the realization flashes in Spencer’s eyes, too, so much so that he finishes the thought for you.

“You’re absolutely right, that is a bit Doctor-Who!”

[zombiefiilm]

It’s Cold Out Here

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

summary: spencer reid has just the plan to keep you warm in the car while you wait for a suspect

warnings: some mentioned with the unsub, classic cm type violence mentioned, no use of y/n, nsfw - 18+ only, making out, car sex(ish?), fingering, handjob, male oral, getting interrupted

word count: 2.1k

When you agreed to wait outside the suspected unsub's house with Spencer Reid, you did not expect it to turn into a several-hour stakeout.

You had pulled up just around the corner from the old house that looked like it was rotting from the inside out, with a perfect view of the front porch from where your black car sat, expecting the man who lived inside to leave the house to find his next victim and allow you to follow him.

His victims were all over the place, young and old, men and women, various financial status'. It just hadn't made any sense from the start and there was barely any bones to the profile at all, the only thing you all knew was that he was a man, likely between the ages of 30 and 45, who had a comprehensive knowledge of the human body and that he was somehow able to take his victims from public places in broad daylight. There didn't seem to be any sexual behaviour in these killings, the unsub killing each victim with a single gunshot to the head and cleanly taking out a different organ from each victim.

The only reason you even had a suspect in the first place was two witnesses stating that they had seen a blue Volvo Sedan that seemed to have driven off in a hurry from the locations the victims were being taken from at a similar time. Thankfully, one of the witness statements had included a partial plate, which Garcia was easily able to track down.

Prentiss and Reid had knocked on the front door earlier in the day, hoping to talk to the unsub with the premiss of him being a witness, but to no avail, the door never opened and with every curtain drawn, they had no visual of inside the home either.

Eventually, the plan had become to wait out the unsub, to follow him and pounce once there was any sign of suspicious behaviour, but it was taking significantly longer than expected.

Since the BAU had landed in Missouri, the unsub hadn't made a single move. While it was fortunate that there had been no more victims, it made it quite hard for you to get closer to finding out who he was. Through his patterns though, you were hoping that tonight would be the time for him to find his next victim.

You had gotten to your spot at around 4pm, Spencer driving and you in the passenger seat, and the blue car was still parked in the driveway. You set yourself up, expecting to be waiting for 4 or 5 hours maximum, but as the clock hit 11pm, alongside the command of staying at your 'stakeout' spot until someone walked out of that front door, you knew you were going to be in for the long haul.

Armed with a box of ritz crackers and beef jerky, you both indulged in the most depressing meal you had in a while.

"One of us should try get some sleep and the other can stay awake and watch, just so we're not both out of our minds tired tomorrow" you told Spencer, wrapping your jacket tightly around yourself, attempting to battle the cold air in the car.

"You can sleep first, I want to read through the files again, see if we've missed anything" he brushed a stray hair out of his face as he reached around to the back seat and grabbed one of the thick folders.

"Alright" you replied, tilting your seat back as far as it could go and wrapping your arms around yourself. "Wake me up in an hour".

"Got it"

"Night Reid" you closed your eyes, desperate to get some rest.

"Night".

You weren't sure how long you had been asleep, but you woke yourself up with your own shivering. The car had somehow gotten even colder in the time you were out. You groggily rubbed your eyes, turning around to see Reid engrossed by what he was reading.

"How long was I asleep?" you sat up, still shivering.

Spencer looked over at you, and then down at his watch. "About two hours".

"I told you to wake me up" you hit his shoulder, "you need to sleep too".

"I'm fine, plus you've been complaining about not sleeping well since we got here, you needed it"

You smiled at him, a little giddy over the fact that he was showing how much he cared about you.

You sat up fully now, taking another folder from the back of the car and opening it up. You knew you wouldn't be able to get back to sleep and there was no point in trying.

As time passed, you hadn't even noticed that your teeth had started clattering with the cold.

"Are you okay?" Spencer asked, putting down the papers in front of him. "You've been shivering for a while".

"Yeah, just really cold" you answered simply, glancing up at the house again to see nothing had changed.

"You can have my jacket" he quickly shrugged it off "I run hot".

"Are you sure? I don't want you to be cold either"

Without answering, he just leant over the centre console, and wrapped his jacket around your shoulders but stopped when his face was right in front of yours.

It felt like an eternity where you both looked into each other's eyes without a single word. Right as he went to sit back in his seat though, you grabbed his arm to stop him. You weren't even sure what your plan was but you just knew you wanted him to stay that close.

Neither of you were unfamiliar with looking at each other like that. with longing looks across the office and always sitting across from each other on the jet, it was quite clear to everyone on the team that you both felt like more that coworkers.

"I do know another way to warm you up" he gave you a bashful smile, looking anywhere but your face.

"And what's that?" you whispered, the words almost getting stuck in your throat.

He briefly looked into your eyes, and then down to your lips. You took that as your sign to lean in, gently pressing your lips to his. He almost seemed taken aback, but he quickly kissed you back, opening his mouth and slipping his tongue into your mouth.

The kiss was gentle, warming, as his hand slowly trailed from your knee up to your inner thigh. You wouldn't have expected him to be this forward, but before you knew it, his large hand was resting right over your heat, through your jeans.

He broke away from the kiss, both of you panting lightly "Is this okay?" his question was genuine as he waited for your okay before doing anything.

"Yes Spencer, please, please touch me" you hadn't expected yourself to be so desperate but the thought of his slender hands down your pants had you squirming in your seat.

The smirk that planted on his face at your desperation would be stuck in your head forever. He quickly unbuttoned your jeans and helped you tug them down to your mid thigh, quickly followed by your underwear.

The moment he saw your cunt, he practically moaned to himself, making quick moves to touch you. His fingers slowly gathered up the slick from your slit before his finger gently caught on your clit, making you jolt.

"God, you're so wet already" he whispered to himself, lifting his finger up to the light to get a good look at your juice on him. He moved his hand back down again, this time gently circling your clit.

His movements had you falling into him already, long forgetting about the freezing temperature of the car, your head resting on his shoulder as his finger travelled down to your hole.

He slowly slid his finger inside and you gasped quietly, the way you were already clenching around the single digit had Spencer rutting into the console he was leaning over.

Pumping in and out of you, he quickly added a second finger. You couldn't help but moan in his ear, your attempts to keep quiet waning as he began to curl his fingers, hitting your g-spot right on.

"H- holy shit Spence" you whined, as his fingers perfectly moved against your spongey walls. With your verbal reassurance spurring him on to please you more, he began to circle your clit with his thumb, in time with his quickening thrusts of his fingers.

All of his moves seemed thought out and calculated, like he was studying every single one of your reactions. He pressed his lips against yours once again, his tongue licking into your slack mouth in time with the movements of his hands.

It only took a few minutes before you were a mess, gentle whimpers slipping from your lips, your hips desperately jerking against his hand, desperate for your release, your hands gripping onto his forearms for stability.

As soon as he added a third finger, you knew you were done for. You squirmed in his hold as his fingers sped up, the slick sounds of your cunt filling the humid car as the coil in your stomach tightened.

"God- Fuck Spence, please, I'm gonna"

"Go on, cum for me, please" he groaned, his thumb circled faster around your clit as he pressed his own hips harder against the car, desperate for some form of release.

It was as if your body obeyed his words, seeing white as the pressure in your stomach released.

Your hips jerked into his hand as you came down from the high, Spencer's fingers still pumping in and out of you to help you ride out your orgasm.

Once you finally came down, you feverishly kissed Spencer, desperate to taste him again. You whined into his mouth as he pulled his fingers out of you, quickly missing the feeling of being so full.

As you separated again, Spencer placed his fingers in your mouth, making you taste yourself on his fingers. Once you licked his fingers clean, he pulled his hand back and kissed you again.

"God, you taste so good" he muttered, sloppily kissing you. It was then you noticed his shifting, desperate for stimulation on his cock.

"Let me help you now" you pushed him back into his seat, palming the crotch of his trousers.

He looked up at the door of your potential unsub, ensuring that he was still inside the house before giving you a nod. You desperately unzipped his trousers, pulling them down just far enough for you to pull out his cock.

You quickly pulled his erection out of his boxers, practically drooling at the sight. God.

The tip was red, precum smeared all over his tip, and it was big in every way.

You eagerly wrapped your hand around him, allowing a glob of your saliva to fall onto his tip before you pumped your hand up and down in small movements. You periodically swiped your thumb over his tip, spreading the pearly white liquid around.

Spencer was gripping onto the car door at your movements, his knuckles white as he desperately attempted to stop himself from bucking his hips into your hands.

Then, you decided you desperately needed to taste him. You leaned down, gently taking his tip into your mouth and swirling your tongue around it.

Spencer, in that moment, thought he had died and gone to heaven. He couldn't stop the moans from spilling out from his mouth.

Then, you took pushed your head down as far as you could, tickling the back of your throat as the hair at the base of his cock just-about brushed against your nose. Spencer was on the verge of biting through the skin of his lips to stop himself from fucking your face.

You moved your head back up before taking him entirely in your mouth again, but then Spencer tapped your shoulder and began to lift you off of him.

"The door, the door" his words stopped you in your tracks as he rubbed some of the condensation off of the windscreen in front of him. You got off of him, straightening yourself up in your own seat and pulling up your pants as he tucked himself back into his own trousers.

"I'll get you back" you half whispered as he started the car "later".

You could see him blush lightly as he started to follow behind the unsub. Maybe getting stuck in a car with Reid for 10 hours wasn't such a bad thing.

[justauthoring]

Please do 🌼🌓☕ with Xiao 🥺

🌼 — soulmate markings 🌗 — "don't hesitate, just kiss me." ☕️ — calloused palm against a soft cheek

word count: 510

a/n: your honour! i love this man <3

a purple diamond on your inner wrist.

such a simple marking that links you to xiao for life.

there's a hesitancy that comes with this knowledge. xiao didn't think that he'd have a soulmate, especially given who and what he was - so the presence of you is something that confuses him greatly. in all his many years of knowledge there is nothing to logically explain the confusing presence of you.

a punishment, he thinks - because of who he is.

to be given a soulmate with the lasting and piercing knowledge that you will grow, and you will age and you will fade. all while xiao stays the same.

he doesn't understand the intricacies of romance; the intimacy of kissing, the purpose of sharing a bond with someone. these things are beyong xiao's capability of understanding - and yet, when he see's you, smiling up at him, eyes twinkling and lips soft, xiao yearns for them all the same.

his fingers twitch at his sides, muscles aching to reach as he stares back at you. he wants to touch you but he doesn't understand why or how to.

but you're smiling at him, without hesitancy and without judgement or worry. you step towards him, hands wrapping around his wrists like you just know - and somehow, you always seem to. know, that is. xiao isn't good with words and he doesn't know how to explain the things that race through his mind and yet, all the same, you seem to just understand the words he isn't able to say.

your grip is gentle, not prying or forceful; you guide his hand up, eyes never wavering from his own until you place his open palm against your cheek. you just... lay it there, and xiao's hand twitches, fingers brushing against a strand of hair; his calloused, hardened and war-torn skin touches the soft, warm and vulnerable skin of your cheek.

xiao hates how rough his hand is. he hates even more that you deserve better and still stay.

he gazes at his hand against your cheek a moment longer, before slowly, unsurely, his eyes shift back to your own. in a moment of weakness, his body betrays him - he feels it before it happens, the definite shift as he leans towards you, a breathless and desperate gasp breaking past his lips.

he stops just inches from your lips, cursing himself.

"i-"

but you stop him, shifting fast as you clasp his jaw in your own hand, holding him there.

and you just smile.

"don't hesistate," you whisper, "just kiss me."

soft but confident, gentle but reassuring - those are the thoughts that linger in xiao's mind as your words echo and he takes them in.

there's not a trace of doubt in your eyes.

so, despite his own judgement, xiao does. he kisses you like you might disappear, just how he's afraid you will - he kisses you for all the inevitable times he won't able to.

and decides then he won't ever hesitate again; not while he has you. not before he loses you forever.

[hanyjar]

do stars return?

itoshi sae x reader

summary: your childhood friend leaves, and you question if he’ll ever come back.

notes: [1.2k words.] i like to think this man has super angst potential but that won’t be unearthed today LOL no beta we die like men <3

disclaimers: childhood friends trope, angst (if u squint) to fluff, making out for a lil bit, poetic dialogue, forgiveness theme.

masterlist.

Itoshi Sae shines.

It's a truth you've come to realise at the budding age of seven. He, with his tepid stature and equally cold attitude, is destined for greatness.

A star, you whisper, once upon a time. A time where he lived without a million eyes watching his every move. You will become a star, I just know it. 

And back in the day, it wasn't just you who believed it. Everyone did. From his teachers to his classmates, to his parents and his brother. It was an indisputable fact that the boy who dedicated himself wholly to soccer, a prodigy who made the sport look like an art form, had his future set out for stardom.

So it is no surprise to anyone when your naive declaration comes into fruition.

His face is plastered on every billboard - as far as the eye can see. Japan's pride, he is known as. The Ice Prince; he who dominates the field; a force to be reckoned with.

Itoshi Sae: the star.

You are proud. No doubt. Though, it’s false to say that you aren’t envious. Sae is a trailblazer: one that surpasses all of his enemies with a nonchalant stare, and transcends into the sky with the other geniuses. He is a part of the lucky few who are destined to be gazed upon with awe. Everything and anything you have achieved pales in comparison.

(You’d surely hear reprimands if you voice those thoughts out loud, though. In your time, you have made a name for yourself. An expert in your passion at the mere age of seventeen; a trailblazer in your own right.

…It’ll just never compare to the name Sae built for himself, you think with finality.)

But above the awe and envy you feel whenever Sae’s name comes up, is love.

Love: a trap that is inevitable for a childhood friend of his. A pitfall that you have fell into. Your love for him is a bittersweet fact, one which tugs at your heartstrings whenever his face shows up on your phone. Sweet, because childhood love is a beautiful, rare thing - you’re glad that it has happened, in all honesty - though bitter all the same, because he is a star.

And stars shoot past. They never go back.

(He, will never go back.)

So for the years that Sae is gone, you float by on that knowledge. Merely acknowledging him as the one who crashed into your life, and left as turbulently as he came. You work diligently to mute the love that festered in your heart, knowing it will never be. 

You wholeheartedly believe that your life will continue in this fashion.

Then, the impossible happens.

The star returns, seven years later. On your doorstep, nonetheless.

"Itoshi?" 

Somehow, even in the ungodly hour of 12:56AM, Sae manages to look as beautiful as the day he left. It's unfair. Unfair for him to show up at your doorstep unannounced; unfair for him to have grown into his boyish looks as gracefully as he did.

It’s unfair for him to still make your heart race, even after all this time.

"Who else would it be?" He scoffs, the bite of his words not quite reaching his eyes. "And, Itoshi, seriously?"

His voice makes your heart leap. It's like you are ten again. "Well… You haven't been Sae for a while now," you say. "Not since you ghosted me, anyways."

Sae's eyes flicker with an emotion you thought he is incapable of feeling. "I didn't mean to." Regret. The Ice Prince is feeling regret, all for you. And if you were ten again, maybe that alone would shake you. But you aren't. You are several years wiser. You know better.

"It's fine if you want to be the best in the world. I don't blame you for that - not at all. But you can be number one and not neglect the ones that love you, y'know?" You slowly retreat back into the comfort of your apartment, hand creeping onto the back of the door. "Goodnight, Itoshi. You should go home; it's late."

You push the door, preparing to end the conversation then and there.

It’s not supposed to be like this, you realise. He, your first love, is supposed to stay in the past. Itoshi Sae should not be at your doorstep past midnight, suitcase in tow, as if he came straight from the airport to your house. The feelings you hold for him should be locked up within the depths of your heart - not surging in full force from just the sight of him.

But alas, fate plays its mischievous tricks once again. And Sae is not the type of person who lets blunders get away scot-free.

"…You love me?” He says, barely above a whisper, foot wedged between the door and the entrance. An impenetrable silence follows from your end. 

Seven years older, but still a fool in the face of love, it seems.

“I did,” I still do, your mind yells. “But you’re a star now, Sae. Just like I said you would be.” Your breath hitches, nails forming crescent-shaped indents within your palm. “…And stars don’t fall in love with the big, black sea of nothingness, do they?”

A beat of silence ensues from his end. You cringe at your own word choice. Maybe he left, you think. Great. Itoshi Sae was at your door, and you scared him away with your stupid love and even stupider confession. How stupid can you even get—

The door hinge creaks as you topple over, shattering your inner turmoil. Sae announces his intrusion with a loud sigh.

“Hey! What are you?— This is considered trespassing—“ You begin. Sae shuts you up with a forceful kiss, pinning you against the door that you were hiding behind minutes before. It’s messy, tantalising, addicting. The smell of his aquatic cologne fills your senses, and he cups your face in between his hands. He feels so warm. He feels like home.

Sae’s whole body screams of need. The need for you; the need to make up for the lost time. 

You hate how you are so weak for him. 

“Idiot.” He deadpans as the two of you part. “If you’re going to get all poetic on me, fine. Stars don’t fall in love with the galaxy.” 

You remove yourself from his arms, eyes scrunching in offence. Bold thing for him to say, especially after he just kissed your lips raw. “So… You’re not in love with me?”

“Let me finish.” Sae is quick to pull you back into his embrace, voice impossibly soft for the otherwise stone-faced boy. “Stars don’t fall in love with the sky. They live in it; I live with you.”

Sae hopes that the implication is clear.

You, alone, are his hope; you are the reason he sparkles as much as he does. Even while you were miles apart, his childhood friend was the sole thing on his mind. A star cannot shine without its galaxy, after all.

“You’re not off the hook, by the way.” You breathe lightly, laying your head against his chest. “Seven years is still a long time. I don’t think you can cuddle your way out of this one, Itoshi.”

A small smile elicits from his face, “I can try, can’t I?”

…And this star is willing to wait for his galaxy to forgive him, no matter how long it takes.

[multicohn]

summary: a certain grand prix brings up memories of how paul and y/n got together

warnings: none

pairing: fem! reader x paul aron

genre: fluff

face claim: no one in particular

author note: writing about a driver who is the same age as me is lowkey kinda crazy ngl, like wdym we’re born in the same year?

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

tomorrow would be the start of the grand prix that brought y/n and paul together. though they’ve been dating for almost a year, the pair acted as if they’ve been together much longer.

y/n had always wished to have a boyfriend, but never expected it to actually happen; much less be in a relationship with a professional athlete. she never stood out much during school and was always a second option, but somehow y/n found herself with someone who loved her unconditionally.

paul has always wanted to entertain the idea of having a girlfriend, especially when it’s all his friends can talk about, but he also wanted to focus on his career and didn’t believe he could juggle both yet. his friends encouraged to find someone who would be able to understand him on a deeper level then they or his family ever could, but paul didn’t have any interest in the girls his friends tried to set him up with. he was thankful for that as he might’ve never met y/n.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

flashback

it was an ongoing thing between y/n and her cousin that if they didn’t have anyone to go with them to something — by default the other would be their plus one. it bonded them together throughout the years and even if they were going somewhere with someone already, an invitation would still reach the other.

motorsports in general has never been an interest to anyone y/n knew, but one day her cousin had been searching for something to watch and decided on giving “formula 3” a go while waiting for her show to start. originally labelling them as “the funny looking race cars”, y/n’s cousin grew to have an interest with the sport and planned months ahead to attend a grand prix. she knew y/n would never say no unlike her friends who thought watching people drive around in circles sounded utterly boring — “it’s like watching paint dry,” they said.

y/n didn’t have interest in it, but was willing to expand her knowledge into her cousin’s newest interest.

and it was definitely… new.

seeing her cousin so excited wasn’t a new thing, but she hadn’t been this way over a sporting event in ages.

the pair had decided on splitting up to try and get more signatures, but y/n wondered just how many could really fit on the hat.

“excuse me, can you sign my hat? please?” paul happily took the hat from her without looking before signing his name and giving it back. she thanked him and wished him lucked which caused paul to raise his head in order to thank her back kindly, but froze upon seeing y/n smile at him.

“um- ye-yeah thanks” paul watched as she shuffled back into the crowd and slowly disappeared as other fans moved in to ask for his signature

“damn” he thought before reaching out to sign someone’s shirt

y/n found her cousin who was overjoyed at getting so many signatures and y/n couldn’t help but smile at seeing her so happy. they then made their way towards their seats that were quite far, but had been the cheapest and her cousin was sick of setting up blankets, chairs, tents or gazebos.

the races were good and her cousin was more than excited to explain things that y/n didn’t understand.

“come on” her cousin pulled her towards the track

paul happily stepped onto the second place podium and scanned the crowd in hopes of spotting the pretty girl that had asked to sign her hat earlier. his smile broadened upon seeing her behind the fence that separated the race track and pit lane.

y/n glanced over at her cousin who leaned on her shoulder as the national anthem of the first place winner played before looking back up at paul aron. she wondered why he kept glancing in their direction, but shrugged it off; surely, he wasn’t looking at her — she isn’t that delusional.

once they finished spraying each other with the non-alcoholic champagne, paul quickly rushed towards his manager while the pair took some quick pictures of each other on the race track.

“excuse me?” y/n looked up from her phone to see an older woman wearing the familiar uniform of one of the race teams

“hi, can we help you?” her cousin asked politely

“I think you dropped this?” she handed y/n a folded up flyer to which she furrowed her eyebrows at but thanked the strange woman and took it

“no problem” y/n looked at her cousin who shrugged before unfolding it and reading what was written

xxx - xxx - xxx

our driver thought you were pretty ;)

her cousin cooed, but y/n just shook her head. she didn’t believe someone would like her and thought it was a joke, a prank even. why would someone like paul aron be interested in her? she doubted it was zak o’sullivan or dino beganovic since she never interacted with them today and maybe that was why paul kept looking in their direction?

“no, don’t get your hopes up y/n” she stared at the number, unsure about what to do

“let’s text it”

of course, her cousin would say that.

“no”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“you okay?” y/n nodded and looked towards her boyfriend who adjusted his race suit

“just reminiscing about last year, remember when my cousin texted you?” paul rolled his eyes and sat down beside her

“hey, cutie. i lost my number, glad i can have yours with a winking emoji. yes, i remember it very clearly since i thought it was you”

y/n conversed with paul through her cousin for a while before being confident in actually communicating with him. surprisingly, he didn’t find the way she texted boring or annoying and found it quite funny how exaggerated y/n’s cousin is. they became good friends ( after a rather dark topic about if he hurts y/n in any way, shape, or form, she knows how to hide a body ) and she was glad that the people she cared about the most became close.

“paul, it’s time to go” he nodded and stood up before helping y/n who smiled lightly

“good luck” she gave him a kiss on the cheeks which caused paul to blush and smile before dino had to come over and literally pull him away from loving admiring his girlfriend

[delicatebarness]

ᴀs ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ғᴀʟʟs ᴅᴏᴡɴ | s𝟷ᴇ𝟷

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Your search for the truth finds you in an encounter with a hardened stranger and throws you into a dangerous journey through the fallen world.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: Post-Apocalypic World. Violence and Gore. Encounters with the Undead. Reference to past trauma and loss. Panic and Anxiety. Implied Sexual Tension.

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 3548

sᴘᴏᴛɪғʏ ᴘʟᴀʏʟɪsᴛ | sᴜᴘᴘᴏʀᴛ: ᴋᴏ-ғɪ

sᴇʀɪᴇs ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ | ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʀᴀɪʟᴇʀ | ɴᴇxᴛ ᴇᴘɪsᴏᴅᴇ

ᴀ/ɴ: I'm very excited for this one, I won't lie. - Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as mine. - B

ᴀᴛᴡғᴅ: @winterslove1917 | @ell0ra-br3kk3r

ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ: @hallecarey1 | @pattiemac1 | @uhmellamoanna | @scraftsku35 | @ozwriterchick | @sapphirebarnes | @rach2602 | @thetorturedbuckydepartment | @lanabuckybarnes

The years passed by, but the memory of that first night burned into your soul. One scar that time would never heal. Somehow, you survived. Letting the world forget you existed you learned to hide and to stay quiet. 

The world tried to move on, focus on ending the nightmare, and find a cure or a way out. You felt differently. You didn’t want to stop it, but more to understand it. Why did it start? Why everything you loved had been torn away from you within an instant? Somewhere in the ruined world the truth was buried and you were determined to find it. 

That’s what brought you to where you are now, inside the ruins of an old library. A place where knowledge may still be hidden beneath the dust and decay. It was silent, undisturbed, the only sounds from the building being that of age and neglected groans. Moving quickly, you traced your fingers along the spines of forgotten books, searching for hope and answers. 

The scent of old paper and mildew filled the air as you moved through the dim aisles. The titles were barely visible beneath layers of grime. As you scan the shelves, you pull at a few books; covers worn and faded. You scanned for any mention of events that could have possibly led to the world’s collapse. Flipping through the pages, your mind raced. The silence was almost comforting as it contrasted against the constant danger outside. It felt like you had found a sanctuary, somewhere you could piece together the fragments of the past.

Groans began to echo through the library, shattering the silence as the undead emerged from the shadows. Their eyes locked onto you, and your heart leaped into your throat. Panic surged through you, grabbing whatever books you could reach, you shoved them into your bag as you began to move. Tugging at your shoulder, the weight of the bag slows you down, but you don’t stop and don’t look back. Narrow aisles and towering shelves became a labyrinth, but with desperate speed and ragged gasps, you navigated your way toward the exit. 

As you brushed past them, the noise of tumbling books only spurred the undead closer. Your heavy footsteps thudded on the worn floor echoed. The scent of decay grew closer, and you could feel their presence gaining on you. 

A sliver of light in the darkness was in sight– the exit, and you pushed yourself harder, willing your legs to go faster. And, just as you burst through the door, the harsh light warming your skin, the undead reached the spot where you stood moments before. Your mind was fixated on one thing at that moment– survival. 

The streets were a blur as you ran, fear clawing at your throat. You didn’t see him at first, but a man sat in a car across the street, watching the chaos with annoyance and amusement. “What the fuck–” he muttered to himself, his hand reaching a gun that sat beside him. That was when he saw you– The terror in your eyes, and the desperation in your stride.

“Great…” he sighed with a roll of his eyes, stepping out of the car and raising his gun. “It’s always the pretty ones…” 

With deadly precision, each shot hit its mark as if it were second nature to him, he effortlessly cleared a path through the horde. Breathless, you stumbled as the last of the undead fell to the ground. You struggled to process what had happened as your chest heaved. 

Moving toward you, the man carried an air of calm that seemed unnatural in the fallen world– imposing, with broad shoulders and a muscular frame, easily over six foot, you thought. Each of his movements were controlled, and purposeful as his dark hair fell in messy waves framing his faintly stubbled face. 

The sharpness of his gaze, a piercing shade of blue, cold, and assessing, contrasted with the weary lines etching into his face as he scanned the area. There was something you couldn’t place in his expression, irritation? A reluctant duty? It was as if saving strangers was not how he wanted to spend his time, but he’d do it anyway. 

Dangling loosely at his side, the gun still smoked from the shot that had been fired. His red henley shirt, scuffed and worn, clung to his frame. As he glanced at you, his eyes narrowed as if he were assessing whether you were a threat or just another helpless survivor. Then, without a word, he holstered the gun and reached out his hand. 

The gesture caught you off guard causing you to hesitate for a second before you reached out, your fingers wrapped around his large, calloused hand. Pulling you to your feet, with a surprising gentleness, he kept a firm grip on your hand as you steadied yourself. Up close, you could see the lines around his eyes and a faint scar along his jawline. 

“Get in,” he commanded, his voice low and gravelly, no room left for argument. His order jolted you out of your daze, but he refused to wait for a response as he turned to open the car door for you. You hurriedly obeyed, scrambling into the passenger seat of his car. When you were inside, he released your hand and slammed the door shut, circling to the driver’s side. 

He wasted no time, flooring the gas pedal the second the engine roared to life and sped away from the scene. Swerving around abandoned vehicles and debris, he navigated the town’s maze with unnerving skill. 

Neither of you spoke, sitting in silence as the adrenaline coursed through your veins, and your heart raced. You watched the ruins of the town blur by as you stared out the window. 

And then, when he finally spoke, his voice was more contemplative, softer. “What were you doing in there?” 

Unsure of how much to reveal, you hesitated before taking a breath. “I’m looking for answers,” you admitted, keeping your voice small, barely audible. “I, um, I want to understand why this all started… why the world fell.” 

Letting out a low, almost resigned sigh as he repeated, “Why this all started–” The words hung heavy in the air. “Not many people left who care about that.” 

“I care,” you murmured. He glanced toward you, his knuckles turned white as his grip tightened on the steering wheel. There was a flicker of understanding that passed through his icy blue eyes. And, for a moment, it seemed like he was about to say something, but instead, he pressed his lips into a tight line and focused back on the road. 

“You’re chasing ghosts,” he muttered after a while, almost to himself. “Whatever answers you’re looking for, they won’t bring back what you lost.” 

You snapped your gaze toward him, surprised by the bitterness in his tone. “Maybe not,” you retorted, “but it’s the only thing that keeps me going.” 

There was a long silence settling between you, only broken by the sound of the car’s engine and the occasional groan of the undead lurking by the side of the streets. Outside of the car, you watched as remnants of the world passed by– abandoned vehicles, shattered windows, and overgrown greenery reclaimed what was once civilization.

The man sighed heavily with a weariness that ran deeper than just the physical toll of survival. “I know some people,” he said, he kept his voice low, almost reluctant. “My group might be able to help you, or at least give you somewhere to rest.” 

“Your group?” you echoed, unsure if you should feel weary or relieved. 

“Yeah,” he replied in a stern tone. “They’re not exactly the most friendly to strangers, but they’re good at staying alive.” 

Glancing at his side profile, you weighed his words carefully. He had an edge, a darkness, there was something about him that made you uneasy, but yet, at the same time, you could not deny the gravitational pull toward him. You had isolated yourself for so long in your search for answers, and the idea of finding others who may be able to help was almost too tempting to resist. 

“Why are you helping me?” You asked in need to understand his motivations. 

The silence stretched out, he didn’t answer as the car sped down a deserted road. Glancing over at you again, his expression was unreadable as he finally spoke. “Maybe I don’t want to be the kind of person who looks the other way anymore,” he said, his voice guarded.

As you searched for something– anything– that would give you a clue about who this man was, you stared at him. You wonder why he’d chosen to save you as his answer hung in the air, but his eyes, cold and piercing, gave nothing away. 

An endless ribbon of cracked asphalt and faded yellow lines stretched over the road ahead of you. The car’s tires hummed a steady rhythm, calming the chaotic thoughts swirling in your mind as the remnants of the world you once knew lay in ruins. 

As the time ticked by, you were unable to stay silent for any longer. “What’s your name?” you asked.

A flicker of surprise crossed his features as he glanced at you again before he turned his attention back to the road. “James,” he simply said. 

You repeated his name, testing the word on your tongue. Strange, you thought, almost too normal for someone who brutally saved your life. But then, maybe this was the type of normalcy you craved.

~

The sun began to set as you drove further, the landscape growing more barren. The trees were sparse, and their branches gnarled, twisting like something out of a horror movie. A chill crept into the air as the sky above turned a bruised shade of purple. 

Just then, as you were about to ask James if you were close to your destination, the car suddenly jerked to the side. A violent shudder came from the vehicle, and a loud thumping echoed from the rear. 

“God damn it!” James cursed, his knuckles turning white as his grip on the steering wheel tightened, fighting to keep the car under control. Easing his foot off the gas, the car slowly came to a halt on the side of the road. 

“What happened?” you asked, your heart racing from adrenaline. 

“Flat tire,” James sighed, a lace of frustration in his voice. Killing the engine, he stepped out of the car. “Stay here,” he ordered, not waiting for a response before slamming the door shut behind him. 

You watched as James circled to the back of the car before kneeling beside the rear tire. He mumbled curses under his breath as he inspected the damage. You suspected he drove over some hidden debris on the road, causing the tire to shred. He glanced around the deserted landscape as he stood, his hand instinctively resting on the gun tucked into his jeans. 

Staying in the car, you nervously tapped your fingers on the armrest. The sun sank lower, and the shadows began to grow longer. The sense of was back and stronger than ever.

James rummaged through the trunk before pulling out a spare tire and jack. He worked quickly, with a sense of urgency in his movements. Glancing around now and then, scanning the horizon as if expecting someone, or something to emerge from the shadows. 

You watched him work through the wind mirror, noticing something in the distance. It seemed like just a flicker of movement, barely noticeable in the fading like, until your eyes adjusted and you saw them– moving slowly but steadily towards the car, multiple undead. 

“James,” you called out, trying to keep your voice steady and low. “We’ve got company.” 

He looked around sharply before his gaze met theirs. His expression darkened as he recognized the approaching figures– At least a dozen of them stumbled toward the car. 

“Get in the driver’s seat,” he ordered, his voice tense. “When I say go, floor it.” 

Your heart sank as your eyes met his through the back window. “I-I don’t know how to drive.” 

James froze for a second, disbelief flashed across his face. “What?” 

“I never learned!” you confessed, a slight tremble in your voice. 

“Fuck my life,” he muttered under his breath, narrowing his eyes as he glanced back at the nearing horde. “No time for this, just, get in the seat anyway.” 

You hesitated before scrambling over the center console, and sliding into the driver’s seat. Your hands trembled as you gripped the steering wheel. Your mind raced as the undead drew closer, their groans growing louder. A smell of decay filled the air, a scent you’d have thought you’d grown accustomed to by now, but still made your stomach turn. 

Tightening the last lug nut on the new tire, James’ movements became frantic, tossing the jack into the trunk and slamming it shut. He sprinted to the passenger side and yanked open the door. 

“Okay, listen to me, Princess,” he said, his voice low and urgent, the nickname dripping from his lips with endearment as he slid into the seat beside you. “Put your foot on the brake– the left pedal.” 

Your heart hammered in your chest as you listened to him, following his instructions. They were almost at the car now, rotting hands reached out as they closed in. 

“Now, take the gearshift,” he instructed, nodding toward the lever between the seats as he rolled the passenger side window down. “Move it down to ‘D’ for drive.” 

Your hands shook so much, you were barely able to grip the gearshift, but with a deep sigh, you managed to push it into position, just as James set his gun up out the window.

“Nice, now–”

James was interrupted by one of the undead slamming against the window, a grotesque mask of decay moaning into the glass. Screaming, your foot slipped off the brake, lurching the card forward. Instinctively, you slammed your foot on the gas pedal. 

Tires screeched as the car shot forward, and you clung to the steering wheel. You could barely see as the vehicle swerved wildly. 

“Ease up on the gas!” James shouted, his hand darting toward you, trying to steady the wheel. “You’re going too fast, princess!” 

The fear had already taken over, keeping your foot pressed to the floor. Down the narrow highway, the car rocketed dangerously close to the edge.

“Let go of the gas! Now!” he barked, his voice managed to cut through your panic. 

The car immediately began to slow down to a more manageable speed as you forced your foot to lift. The moment of relief was short-lived, as when you looked up ahead, the road began to narrow, flanked by thick forest on either side. Between the trees, there seemed to be more movement, and as you got closer, the car’s headlights revealed why– more undead, dozens of them, staggering toward the road. 

“Oh my god, I-I can’t,” you whispered, gripping tighter on the wheel, your nails starting to dig into the leather. 

“Just keep driving,” he ordered, his voice low but calm. “Don’t stop. Just go right through them.” 

You looked at him, surprise and horror etched in your features. “You can’t be– what? We’ll crash!”

“We won’t if you hold steady,” he firmly said. “Trust me. Aim straight, and don't swerve. Just… trust me.” 

The undead were closing in, their eyes hollow as they fixed on the car. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to look straight ahead. 

“Gas, now!” James shouted.

Slamming your foot back on the gas pedal, the car surged forward once again. The undead were everywhere, their bodies thudding against metal as you plowed through the horse. Cracking bones, groans, and the screech of metal filled your ears. You tried not to look at the blood smeared across the windshield, tried to think of anything other than what was happening, to not cringe at the sound of gunshots beside you. 

Eventually, you made it through, somehow. The road cleared ahead, forest fading into the distance as you sped away from the chaos. Adrenaline and terror coursed through your veins, shaking you uncontrollably. 

James reached over, gently loosening your hands from the steering wheel. “Ease up, princess,” he softly said. “You did it. You’re okay,” he continued reassuring you as you lifted off the gas again. His hands guided the car as its pace smoothed. 

Your mind was numb with shock, and you barely registered his words. The only sounds now were the engine’s soft hum and your heart pounding in your ears. After another rough mile, and as the last remnants of daylight vanished, the tension in the car was palpable. James must have sensed it when he glanced over at you. Your nerves were frayed, hands trembling on the steering wheel. 

His expression softened as he noticed the hardened lines begin to etch in your features. “Pull over, princess,” he quietly said. “I’ll take it from here.” 

Too exhausted to protest, you nodded. You eased the car to the side of the road with shaky hands and switched off the engine. James shuffled in the passenger seat and leaned toward you, his movements were deliberate but gentle. 

It was cramped inside the car, forcing you both to maneuver carefully. Sliding closer to you, his arm brushed against yours, a small shiver shooting down your spine. His scent caused your breath to hitch– earthy and warm– it filled the small space between you. You were acutely aware of the heat that radiated from his body.

You carefully lifted yourself from the driver’s seat and tried to give him room. Your leg brushed against his as you shifted, and your arm grazed his chest. The contact between you was brief but it was electric. Stilling for a moment, James’ eyes met yours and something unspoken passed between you before he moved under you, settling into the driver’s seat. 

You climbed over the center console, slowly to avoid bumping into him again, yet it was almost impossible not to. Your bodies were too close, the space too tight and his hand lightly touched your waist as you slid into the passenger seat in a small gesture to help steady you. You tried to ignore the heat rising to your cheek as you settled into the passenger seat. 

Adjusting himself in the driver’s seat, James’ demeanor changed. He was refocused, his gaze sharp as he pulled back onto the road. Now in his control, the car felt steadier and the tension in the air eased slightly. 

The car’s headlights cut through the night, the road ahead and its surroundings were barely visible. Yet, somehow James navigated it all with ease, it was evident he was familiar with the area. 

You couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt for being such a liability, twice in less than twelve hours this man had saved your life. Shaking the thought out of your head, you knew there was no time to dwell on that now, the only thing that mattered was getting to safety.

“Where exactly is it we’re going?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

“It’s not far now,” James replied, his eyes never left the road. “It’s a base camp– it’s secure and well fortified. There are people there, good people. You’ll be safe.” 

He was so certain and reassuring in his tone, it made you want to believe him. But you hadn’t felt safe or secure since before that night. Too much had changed in the world, and even the thought of somewhere being ‘safe’ seemed almost impossible. 

After what felt like hours, you fought to stay awake as your eyes grew heavy with fatigue. Just as it was about to take over, James slowed the car and a faint glow appeared ahead. A high chain-linked fence topped with barbed wire revealed itself as the road leveled out. You could make out the dim outlines of buildings beyond the fencing, and makeshift structures that looked like military barracks rather than homes. Illuminating the area, floodlights cast oppressive shadows on the ground. 

“Here it is,” James murmured, caution laced in his tone. A lone figure stood waiting by the large gate at the camp’s entrance. His silhouette was stark against the floodlights, broad-shoulders, imposing and tall. It wasn’t until the car approached that he stepped forward, his features revealing in the light. 

The man’s face was rugged and weathered, it spoke of years of hard living. Dark hair cropped short, and his strong jawline covered in a shadow of stubble. His eyes were cold and calculating as they locked on the car. There was command in his presence, a quiet authority that made it clear he wasn’t to be trifled with. He seemed the kind of man who would be ready for anything with a solid build, muscular concealed under a dark, well-worn jacket. 

James slowed the car to a stop, rolling down the window. “Bucky,” the man called out toward James before landing his gaze on you. He looked irritated, setting his jaw tight as he assessed you. “Who’s this?” he asked, without any warmth in his tone, just a cold, scrutinizing edge.

---

sᴇʀɪᴇs ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ | ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʀᴀɪʟᴇʀ | ɴᴇxᴛ ᴇᴘɪsᴏᴅᴇ

[thekatebridgerton]

So this is another episode of stories I want to read and I don't have the energy to write because it's 2am and I still can't sleep: real enemies to lovers past life au

And I mean I want a real enemies to lovers Bridgerton au where the Bridgertons straight up killed their love interest in the most Brutal way possible because they were that bad. Maybe its a past life in a fantasy world where the Bridgertons were dark overlords and their enemies were a powerful band heroes trying to defeat them who were killed by them to maintain power. But when the heroes died, the Bridgertons realized that there was nothing woth conquering anymore without an arch enemy and pretty much destroyed the world

But then the reincarnation happens and it's 1800 regency England and the spouses immediately recognize the people who killed them in a past life and go like ' nope, I don't like people who murdered me in my past life 'while the Bridgertons themselves don't know why they feel drawn to these people who keep fighting/avoiding them.

Kate knows Anthony murdered her in her past life, she remembers and he doesn't, in her past life she was a powerful mage who saw her friends die one by one trying to eradicate the Bridgertons and faced off with Anthony in a brutal final battle, in this life she's trying to protect Edwina from the vultures of the ton and he's trying to get close to Kate, for someone unknown reason. she's going to shoot him one of these days and struggles with the knowledge that in this life he's done nothing to deserve it. he's all she ever trained to destroy in her past life, in this one, he's just a foolish man, how can she let go of old grudges if he keeps frustrating her so much and trying to get on her good side

Sophie was a saint with healing powers in her past life, she's a maid in this one, big deal she can get trough this. Her plan is to reach spinster age, hunt down Phillip or Simon and start her own medicine practice. Except that the guy who killed her in her past life somehow found her first, he's offering to help her get a job as a maid in his house ( serving his other 7 muder happy siblings? No thank you) she's trying to avoid him, found work with Lady Danbury, and he thinks they're soulmates just because she nursed him that one time. Seriously if she wasn't honor bound as a healer in her past life she would have left him to die!! Why wont he get away from her.

Penelope was killed in the least violent way, past life Colin was almost gentle when he killed her, so she's always had a soft spot for him. She was willing to let the past life lie and be his friend until he said he'd never court Penelope Featherington!. As if she would want him to! That idiot!. In her past life she was a paladin who never married and had her life cut short by Colin..She's going to save up her LW money, buy herself a husband and move far away from her former executioner... Wait a minute! He should take responsibility for that, she didn't even have a first kiss in her past life because of him! He should give her one! She's determined not to die a virgin in this life and she's going to make it Colin's problem if he keeps sniffing around her business!

[weebsinstash]

Ohmygod your thoughts on Yandere Miguel give me life

Idk how your blog works so feel free to ignore and delete this ask but I have some thoughts I'd like your take on

So platonic yandere Miguel with a teen reader who's crushing on a villain from her universe (im a sucker for the enemies to lovers trope </3). And villain reciprocates feelings but is obviously evil (i can't fix them I'll love them for it) so Miguel HATES it even more.

And I'm imagining that villain is also a yandere so there's just gonna be so much drama like AHDISHDUSHD

But yes this idea has been bouncing around in my head alot

If you give me permission I shall come in here with more thoughts on this if I get them

Anygays have a nice day or night make sure to stay hydrated!!!

*Tyler the creator voice* ok ok ok ok ok

so, I was thinking of something earlier, and, I forgot to grab a screenshot of it, but, extremely incredibly minor ATSV spoiler, when Miles is being shown the holograms of the Spiderverse, another series of canon events that is shown is every Spider having some sort of Symbiote experience (as in Venom, which, I have to admit, I'm uh, not extremely knowledgeable on Spiderman lore, I've been out of the game with this series since like grade school, I used to be big on DC and TMNT and hero shit, so, yeah)

Reader is just crushing on like, some evil Eddie Brock or some bad boy with a Symbiote, and dedicated/obsessive Papá Miguel instantly recognizes when your moods and behaviors start to change, more rebellious, more moody, you're becoming a bit more assertive, but not always in the good way, you're hurting people, maybe even stealing and other petty crimes. He presses you on who you've been hanging out with because APPARENTLY you've been sneaking off your watch so you can't inherently be tracked or spied on or contacted

Some drama ass shit like, Miguel has been trying to reach you because you both have some sort of really sentimental or important date coming up, maybe the anniversary of when he first met you or your birthday or his birthday where you both were supposed to do something nice together, something that's been planned and talked about for ages, and then, this rebellion stuff begins and, the date comes and you completely ghost him, he can't find you, contact you, he's frustrated and angry but also worried because what if you're hurt? What if his baby girl is HURT 🥺 SURELY that's the ONLY reason you wouldnt show up and break your poor stressed beloved daddy's heart liks this 🥺 and he finally finds you and you're totally fine, it's just like "haha sorry 'dad' I was getting railed by my evil big tall hunky villain boyfriend and also I have a Symbiote now, look at my spooky black costume, im evil now :)" and here's Miguel like "NOOO PRINCESA 😭😱✝️", but, technically he's only able to interfere in certain ways, like, maybe he can pressure you to break up with this guy but your Symbiote is canon and whether you defeat it and get rid of it or somehow master it and befriend it like say Ghost Spider, that isn't up to him, he can only pressure you but he can't MAKE you do anything, at least, not directly

You're running around having your rebellious Evil Girl Autumn and he's trying to, you know, steer you back onto the path of righteousness and all that and the harder he tries to control you the angrier you're getting until you're even losing your temper and throwing things at him or eventually physically attacking him (to which he's forced to overpower you which, you two have sparred before but this is different and it breaks his heart). You throw your watch at him and tell him to go fuck himself, that you hate him, that you never want to see him again, but you're crying and he takes this as a sign you aren't serious (which, you aren't, not 100% completely, you kinda lowkey ARE having a huge temper tantrum and rebellious phase and being a criminal brat, but, like.... spiderverse babyyyy we got Spider powers, shit has no consequences, or so it feels like to you at the time, and the Symbiote is maybe questionably evil and corrupting your thoughts)

Oh I just realized you said teen reader and here I am talking about getting railed 💀 maybe the villain is a teen too or just a few years older than you but either way like. Miguel doesn't want his sweet innocent pure virginal baby girl having sex! With anyone! Especially before marriage! (Although i was hearing he's kind of a slut in the comics?) He ever finds that shit out it's like, A CRISIS EVENT. He's like that one stereotype of brothers/fathers who hate seeing their sister/daughter date because that's the baby the raised/grew up with. Picture having an argument with him and you're just trying to piss him off and like, it's true but in anger you say "OH YEAH? oh YEAH??? Well, well, you know how you hate Hobie Brown so much?! We've been dating JUST TO MUTUALLY SPITE YOU, and you know what, i actually like him, and he likes me! Maybe we'll hook up for real! Maybe I'll FUCK HIM, DAD :) maybe we'll HAVE A BABY TOGETHER, DAD :)"

Like girlie nooooo you're getting put into The Biggest Time-Out The Multiverse Has Ever Seen. You think getting locked up in a room would be bad, NO, because at least you'd have some vague sense of privacy and personal space. You're now on 24/7 Daughter Duty, with him literally all the time except for, bathing and that stuff. He's dragging you around, making you accompany him, controlling what you're allowed to do, really an extended prolonged punishment. Hss making you sit in his office or whatever while he works and you'll be absolutely fucking bored out of your mind because you're basically given nothing to do, have no phone, no tasks really. He's not outright hurting or abuse you but it's a kind of psychological burden for you, but from his perspective he's just, basically guarding you like a dedicated father, protecting his baby from tarnishing her reputation, her body, and otherwise when he isn't there. CLEARLY he has a lot more fathering to give you than he originally thought

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for calling a nineteen-year-old character a kid?

(For context, I (19FtM) am autistic and they refused to elaborate on anything and never asked anything clearly.)

I have an RP character with his own blog, and on that blog I wrote a post from his POV, where he called himself a kid and implored an institution in the fandom (SCP Foundation) to treat him like a person. I had just turned 19 at the time and still considered myself a kid and the adults in my life considered people my age (18-20) to be children who could vote. I know a bit about brain development and had been taught that mental maturation is a physical process. The character is immortal (born 1349) but, because his brain can't age, he's still got the physical brain structure of an eighteen-year-old guy. He's still mentally eighteen and will always be mentally eighteen.

For the next three hours, I was bombarded by anons telling me how creepy that was and that I shouldn't have done this. I didn't understand and defended my choice. I talked about brain development (they instantly turned this into "the character is brain-damaged" and when I said he wasn't but mentioned that I am, they started being pretty ableist about that.) I also mentioned that both the character and I don't do anything with minors and find even the thought to be disgusting (they were calling my use of the word kid to somehow be paedophilic,) and they said that sounded like something a paedo would say. To my knowledge, I did nothing other than call this character a kid and defended it by pointing out the ways 18 is an adolescent and that neither of us were doing anything harmful with it.

There were a few minor issues the anons never directly mentioned (he makes his own medication because he doesn't trust other people not to drug him and because his metabolism is significantly enhanced, they didn't like this. They didn't like him being a level 6 mutant but I think I should be allowed to write a level 6 mutant. Two of his children are white, but all of his children are adopted. He has a husband who is immortal and 19. He uses a name not from his culture, meaning not Aztec, because he survived the Aztec genocide and chose a new one to fly under the radar, which I guess is a fair point but they never addressed that directly.) But almost all asks were about the age thing. They got progressively angrier and started calling me a paedo for calling him a kid, and they told me to end my own life.

When I asked one of the people involved in the discourse (part of the RP community I had reached out to immediately before this all went down,) she was weird. She insisted I should know why calling him a kid was creepy and refused to elaborate. She claimed they had been far more direct about the other issues, but I had a maximum of one ask per issue and none of them even directly called it an issue. I made an apology post even though I still didn't understand what I'd done and she said it just made the issues worse.

At this point, I made a "screw an apology I'm not sorry for anything" post criticizing the hours of hatred and told them to block me, then disabled anon.

Clearly I'm missing something, but they refused to tell me what I was missing and they told me to end my life. Is it really so wrong for a fictional 18-year-old to call himself a kid? If so, can one of you please explain why?

What are these acronyms?

[boundinparchment]

Dream a Little Dream of Me - LVII

Celestia had a cruel sense of humor. He knew this, even before his days as a student. But to be given a soulmate? Now, when he openly blasphemed against the cursed island in the sky? He would outlive you and the dreadful fated bond that haunted your shared dreams. There was little point in this. He could at least put a Vision to good use. People were nothing but disappointments. He had no use for you. Until you pulled the bow across your instrument and awoke a part of him long buried by self-hatred and arrogance. Soulmate AU; Il Dottore/Female reader w/ established personality and backstory. Slow burn. Lore and world speculation and interpretation within; follows canon story where possible. Fic is rated explicit; MDNI. This chapter is not suitable to those under the age of 18. Chapter on AO3 here.

He should have encouraged you further to use less hot water, Zandik realized, as his hands reached for yours in the scalding water.  Air thick with steam, laced with scents he would only ever attribute to being yours, you’d somehow convinced him a bath was more worthwhile.  And now you and the heat were going to his head and both of you would pay the price later.

A shower would have been efficient. He could have spent the entire time exploring your form, taking care of every curve.  He would feel more invigorated standing.  His body didn’t understand relaxation unless it was to sleep and every waking second couldn’t be wasted.

You’d insisted, however, that a bath would be enjoyable.

Zandik didn’t entirely understand how.  Not at first.  And then you arranged yourself behind him in the tub, a feat considering his own height; at least the tub was more than accommodating.  You pressed your breasts to his bare back before you eased him back into your lap to wash his hair.

How many times had you sat like this with him, he wondered.  Upwards of twenty, no doubt.  Even when your face was obscured to him, you cradled his head in your lap and listened as he went on tangent after tangent.  The last time you’d done so, he realized, was when his Segments still whispered on the wind as you overlooked the Ruin Golem.

“Relax, mon rêve .  I won’t get shampoo in your eyes,” you teased.

Relaxing didn’t take much effort thanks to your soft skin and the way you massaged his scalp as you lathered the shampoo.  He recalled, briefly, that Pantalone specifically spent the time and money getting his hair done for this experience and for once, he could understand why.  Just enough pressure to ensure efficacy but gentle enough to lull him to sleep right here.  Zandik never liked being touched by others, not even by his Segments; vanity to the point that Regrator took it to was a waste of time and mora anyway.

Your words from the courtyard after Pantalone’s dance floated through his head like padisarah petals on the surface of the river, noble and demanding.

He thought like Regrator too, once; Zandik’s turnabout wasn’t even all that long ago in the grand scheme of the universe.  He had outlived you already. He had centuries of experiences, of knowledge, of understanding. Back when he saw himself as a system, less a human and more of a concept in the shape of a human.

How limiting.

You rinsed his hair, thorough and meticulous in the same way you dusted your cello’s bow and body and strings.  When you finished, he reached up and took your hand in both of his and held it above him, mindful of dripping water and lingering suds as he massaged each joint.

You still had your writer’s bump, naturally.  But your palms were rougher, despite your vain attempts to keep them soft.  You exerted pressure on the handle of your claymore in some spots more than others and unless you were in the cold, you never wore gloves.  You used your baton more often now but every once in a while, you preferred to swing the blade yourself, you said; you enjoyed the power in your muscles, feeling the force of the blade and understanding everything as a mere extension of yourself.

A sentiment he more than related to.

Zandik craned his neck slightly to look at you only to find you watching him intently, your other hand grazing his cheek.

Even if he could outlive you, what would the point be?  The universe would never be exhausted but without you to share any of it with, why bother?

“They ache less,” you said. “I couldn’t have done tonight or any preceding tasks without your handiwork.”

“As was intended. Your claymore took away most of your grip strength and left you with little to use on daily tasks.  Eliminate that and you are free to take better care of your joints.  I saw no need for extreme alternatives.”

“Such as?”

“Prostheses.”

“I do rely on my sense of touch. Would be a shame to lose it.”

Your grazed your fingers over the tender spot between his shoulder and his neck; his eyes fluttered shut and his heart shuddered as if he was struck by lightning. The after-effects of the Furnace centuries ago were nothing compared to this sensation.

“A travesty,” Zandik replied. “Without it, your music would lack its soul.”

He would rather have fought and killed you, once upon a time.  Especially upon seeing you burdened with a device that tainted the mind.  He did not want you and yet his very nature demanded your presence, your music, your soul; he was a glutton for knowledge and to ignore you meant turning away from an opportunity to explore the world through a lens he would potentially never have again.

A slave to fate in all but name.  

His past self, or even just Omega, would have laughed if he walked in.

Omega understood, in the end, long before either his creator or you did.

Between his Segment and your thrice-timed persuasion, twice in appreciation of your presence and then once in your absence, and your willpower alone, his choice was made.

He didn’t need to feel his face to know how flushed he was. Amid the steam, he felt his pulse throbbing, lightheaded from the heat.

You fought, you always fought when given the right evidence, and Zandik hated few things more than passive acceptance of one’s intended life. You worked as hard as he had, as had as he did , endured pain he could conceptualize and at least acknowledge.

He wondered, for a moment, if that first night would have been different if you knew , then, in the darkened performance hall. He doubted it. What you lacked in physical prowess you more than made up for in emotional blows.

Which was precisely why, he realized some time ago, you would have gotten away from Omega on your own. You didn’t need him, Zandik, even if at the time it seemed otherwise. Sedatives would have worn off. Omega was distracted enough with the Traveler that you could have woken up without assistance.

And it was your fourth persuasion, feet caked with sand and a wooden cello neck in your hand, that made something finally fall into place.

You wanted him.

If you could have nothing else, no memories, no instrument, no colleagues, couldn’t you at least have him?

And wasn’t that how he felt with himself?  If Celestia was going to force you upon him, he might as well explore the bond.  That hasn’t changed. 

If he could have nothing else, couldn’t he have you?

In the cold depths of the Palace, shut away with nothing but false corpses for company, he came to the root of Omega’s selfishness and obsession over you. The Segments had nothing of their own, despite having autonomy and individuality; what Zandik gave them was what shaped them and he gave Omega his worst self.

All he knew was how to build, create; he learned and he adapted as needed. Moving. Always moving. If he stayed still, he would never reach the next conclusion, the next breakthrough.

And yet here you were, keeping him steady, focused. Wrapped in emotions he repressed in another era of this world. Willing to see what fate laid beyond the stars.

Zandik opened his eyes and caught you lost in thought, face just as flushed as his; no doubt you, too, were feeling the effects of the water. You blinked and looked down, your head titled at the same angle as when you heard a series of notes and were trying to work out the exact positioning to mimic it.

He didn’t deserve you, to feel inspired and anchored and…

“I know,” you whispered, bringing a hand to smooth back his wet hair again. “I know.”

Did you? he wanted to ask.  Did you truly know, understand, the depth of such a thing?  The amount of times he wondered if, for a moment, it was possible for a single person to hold an entire cosmos in their existence, just from looking at you?

A scholar would never stop until every avenue has been exhausted; fate would, inevitably, always find a way, for it was unnatural in its persistence.

So why not explore it?

For every challenge, Zandik saw the world in a richer context, experienced an outcome that, without your presence, would have been fleeting. The two of you would have found one another through other means, if not then, in Sumeru.  The means didn’t matter so much as the result.  The experiment was the journey, in truth, and he could control that.

And he would.  With your input, of course.

He chose. 

He chose you. 

And he would always choose you.

[blueberrypancakesworld]

if you're not busy maybe a request with yandere claude frollo with a darling who are from the modern days and somehow got trapped into the movie/world the film takes place in.

any prns

You are my story

warning : obsession, some angst, yandere Frollo

Info : I kinda like this idea the confussion and obsession was fun writing it have fun reading dear anon and thanks for the request

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

How did it happen? It was just a free day evening, an evening alone in front of her TV and the old DVD she had found. A few memories of her childhood when she had watched the movie over and over again with her grandma and grandpa. She knew every song and wanted to go to Paris herself.

But not like this, not in the Middle Ages and not in a scene she knew what it would mean. She was scared when she saw the huge old buildings, the people watching her as she came out of the alley. The clothes so different from the humans no dress, no covering under fabric.

She almost screamed when she saw that her image had changed despite her modern clothes, she was not realistic. It felt like her body yes, but when she saw that she looked like she had been painted in a puddle, she almost screamed out of confusion and fear.

It was sinful. It was fear that coursed through her body as she tried to run away from the city herasu wanted to escape the events that would make VParis burn. Get out of Paris, there must be an exit, she thought, looking around hurriedly, but there was hardly a blind spot in this city.

There were people everywhere, people who almost brought the city to a standstill, guards who patrolled and, as she herself soon learned, guards at the gate who kept her from perhaps finding an exit with their halberds raised.

,,And I'm supposed to believe you, traveler?" he asked again, the iron key still locked in his ringed hands. She knew him and had tried to explain to the judge that she didn't want anything here, that she just wanted to go back.

But unfortunately she had to realize that it was only because the story here deviated from the movie that his justice dragged on. That his curiosity and excitement flashed in his eyes as he walked around her.

She felt his gaze on her clothes, on her Jean's, which clung to her legs and on the T-shirt under which her bra was slightly visible. He hasn't changed…he's getting worse, she realized with horror as she still felt the heavy metal on her wrists as if she didn't stand a chance. But Frollo the judge had actually believed her words.

He wasn't stupid, the clothes she was wearing weren't from here, weren't from anywhere in the world, weren't from any books he'd read. Her language and the way she talked to him was "different", it wasn't like something had been changed over time.

,,I can't let you go…darling you see people would want to see you burn" he murmured looking out of the small window seeing in reflection how she was thinking. Her knowledge probably went up to a certain point, but something was different.

She didn't seem to have thought about this story here, didn't pay attention to the knowledge of time. ,,And-and what should I do, Frollo, you have to let me go, this isn't my story," she protested, wanting to reach for him but he grabbed her hand instead.

Seeing the desire flash as the chains rattled he restrained himself from attacking her it was obsession she saw. His grip was firm in a surprising way and she wanted to leave, wanted to go back to her world, to her time.

Didn't want to live in the past of a movie where she lived with an insane righteous murderer. ,,But you're my story," he said with a smile, taking hold of her chains and pulling her close, running his fingers almost cautiously over her shirt.

He saw her shudder as he traced the hem of her bra, fascinated by the clothes on her shoulders and what was underneath. Seemed completely interested in her entire appearance and something told her that she wouldn't just feel the metal on her.

That she would never get out of the city, let alone his house. That he would lock her away, study her, watch her, make her his. She would become another hidden detail of a story.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@ria-coolgirl , @aliensthegreat , @nunezs-stuff , @magmabayvi , @cedric-my-beloved

[jeonstellate]

timestamp: photograph

it’s 12:51 pm when jeonghan finally sees the scrapbook you made for him.

๑彡 yoon jeonghan x gender neutral!reader

๑彡 slice of life!au — character death — angst

๑彡 paragraph format — 0.6K words

masterlist

[gif’s full credit belongs solely to its owner]

๑彡 this was supposed to be a quick “wtv” nonsense and yet this still took me ages for some reason [*insert clown emoji*]. i hope y’all enjoy, anw <3

"Take a picture, it’ll last longer."

Yoon Jeonghan would always tell you that whenever he caught you staring for a second too long. You never meant to linger your eyes on him, but he somehow always caught you nevertheless.

Instead of constantly defending yourself, you opted to comply to his suggestion — by purchasing a polaroid camera and ensuring that you always had it with you whenever you spent time with him. Thus, as a result, you had collected a scrapbook full of his photographs — some with his knowledge, the rest candidly taken.

Jeonghan knew you had an album filled with polaroids of him, since you had nonchalantly told him so one day when he asked what you had done with all the photos you had taken. Unfortunately, he had not had the chance to see the photo album in question for himself — mostly because you had claimed that you were not done decorating it just yet.

He figured he would see the scrapbook eventually, since you were bound to finish sooner or later and ergo would boast about your artwork then.

He just never expected that particular day to arrive like this: Gloomy. Rainy. Incessant.

And, worst of all, without you.

"[First name] wanted you to have this," the man that introduced himself as your brother handed him a thick book with a blank cover.

Proceeding as though his choice of words did not have an impact on him, Jeonghan changed the orientation of his hold to be more comfortable — just for a neatly folded letter to slip out.

Yoon Jeonghan, it read.

If you’re reading this, it means one of two things: either I survived the surgery or I didn’t. While I sincerely hope the situation is the former, if my brother was the one that handed this to you . . . I’m sorry.

I’m sorry you had to find out this way.

He could not find the strength to read on after that.

You were not his best friend, although you were a close one. Nevertheless, even if you were both at the point of your lives where the people you grew up alongside with follow drastically diverge life paths, at drastically different speeds, he never thought yours would just . . . end.

Yes, you were not his best friend, but there was still pain with the shock brought by the news.

It was a miracle Jeonghan found the strength to move, much less have the courage to finally flip through the scrapbook you left of him.

His emotions were in disarray, as though he was in a rollercoaster that he did not want to ride. His emotions were building up to an unknown with each flip, until he eventually reached a certain page that made his heart drop.

Like some of the previous pages, there was only one polaroid. Unlike all of the previous pages, however, the caption that accompanied that particular picture of him read: the moment I realized I love you.

Jeonghan suddenly felt everything. The emotions that hid themselves within the depths of his being, then ignored to preserve what is— was. The emotions that built up after your brother delivered the news. The regret of being too late.

And then came the realization.

He should have listened to his own words and took pictures of you more, maybe then he would not have been left to solely rely on his homescreen wallpaper to remind him what you looked like in the years to come.

Had he done that, maybe then Jeonghan would not have a blurry candid photo of you as his only memorabilia of how you looked like.

[justsomekpopstuff]

ateez as d&d characters

NOTE: Remember, these are just my opinion and how I would classify them in D&D. You can have your own perspective, just don't be a hater about it. I also know that my D&D knowledge isn't perfect. Don't judge me.

current masterlist | fic recs

Party/Campaign Concept: You never know what, or who, you will find out on the open seas. After spending his early years learning the ways of piracy and justice, Captain of of The Silver Light, Hongjoong, works to assemble a crew of trusted companions to join him on the high seas for adventure, anarchy, and retribution to those who abuse their power. After traveling the world, he found outcasts, rebels, and other like-minded individuals who were shunned to the outskirts of society because they did not fit the mold of "proper" society. Together, this ragtag band of pirates sail across oceans, assisting with an oath of justice, to bring justice, liberation, and adventure to those in need of it most - but, they have to find each other first!

Hongjoong: Human Paladin

Hongjoong doesn’t remember most of his early years. He did his best to block them out as much as possible. The point where things began to turn around for him was the day he ran. Still a child, barely alive, tired and hungry, he ran through the streets of his harbor town, hoping beyond all hope that he could find a way out. He somehow managed to stow away on a ship, not realizing that that ship was the property of one of the most fearsome pirates to ever sail the ocean. At that point, all Hongjoong cared about was that he no longer had to return to the life he ran from. Hongjoong was discovered by the pirates a few days into their journey into open waters when one of the sailors found him rummaging through the pantry for food. Despite their notorious reputation for pillaging and other crimes, the pirates ended up taking Hongjoong under their wing, showing him that sometimes you have to cause a little anarchy in order to do some good. The captain of the crew treated Hongjoong like their own son, showing him what it meant to lead a crew and all of the skills it took to be feared by those in power, and beloved by those in need. No matter how many places they visited, their goal always remained the same - only take from those who have plenty, and give to those who have none (and maybe keep some to yourself just for fun). Hongjoong took every lesson to heart, forming a strong sense of justice and a desire to be a positive force to be reckoned with. When he eventually came of age, Hongjoong left the crew to build one of his own - one that would take on the mantle of justice and retribution against those who abuse their power. The first period of being on his own was harsh. Being the captain of a crew of one was not exactly the most rewarding work he had encountered, even on the ship he had managed to steal from a royal navy and redesign to his heart's delight. But slowly, as he took on more small jobs, stealing from the rich rulers of cities to give back to those in need, he garnered a reputation that would follow him everywhere he went. His stories began to spread like wildfire amongst the towns he visited, leading to him gaining the title of “The Charitable Pirate King”. His knack for chaos-creating, anarchy, and justice would end up reaching the ears and hearts of many, including those who would eventually become his crew.

Seonghwa: Half-Elf Warlock

All Seonghwa knew was that he was found on the front steps of an orphanage in a harbor town with a note stating only his name. He was taken in by the workers of the orphanage, but just because he had shelter does not mean that everything was fine. The conditions of the orphanage were destitute at best, and all the other children were regularly ignored by the workers. Even as a young child, he took it upon himself to care for the other children and the house they occupied - it was the only thing he had control over, and he was going to control it. That is when a plague swept over the harbor town, hitting the orphanage especially hard due to the harsh conditions. Seonghwa had his hands full taking care of all of his sick siblings, trying his best to provide them with the care that the real workers refused to provide them. One of the children, barely three, was much worse off than some of the others. Seonghwa regularly prayed to any deity he could think of, begging for the little one to be spared. One entity, one of healing and light, heard his pleas and showed themselves before Seonghwa, asking him if he would really do anything to cure the child. Seonghwa replied “yes” without hesitation, and so the entity bestowed powers of light and healing upon him, giving him the chance to heal the child. From then on, Seonghwa never had to worry about the little ones anymore, contracted to an oath of healing. As soon as he came of age, the workers kicked Seonghwa out of the orphanage, forcing him to take on multiple hard labor jobs just to keep himself afloat. That was, until, he heard rumors of a lone sailor, one who had taken the seven seas by storm - a pirate king in the making, “The Charitable Pirate King”. One day, the up and coming pirate king pulled into the harbor, parting the crowds as he made his way through the town. The captain approached Seonghwa, asking him his name. The captain introduced himself as Hongjoong, and reported that he had heard tell of someone in the village who had the power of light and healing. Seonghwa looked at the young captain, shocked, knowing that he was the person that Hongjoong was talking about. Seonghwa confessed to being the one with such powers, showing the light glowing from his palms that never seemed to dim. Hongjoong, seeing such potential in Seonghwa, offered him freedom - a place on his crew as his second in command. Seonghwa knew he had nothing left to lose, leaving the only place he���s ever known to embark on a new adventure aboard the Silver Light.

Yunho: Human Bard

Yunho grew up in a very loving home. The only challenge was that both his parents were forced to work to keep them afloat, leaving Yunho in charge of raising his younger brother. Yunho taught himself how to play the lute, using music and stories to keep himself and his brother entertained. Yunho quickly learned how to spin a tale full of fantasy and adventure. It was all they had besides each other, even though they knew that their parents loved them - until they didn’t come home. The boys never found out what had happened to their parents, but they knew that as long as they had each other, things would be okay. Because they were still young, Yunho took to sharing his music and stories on the streets in the hopes of earning money to keep them going. Yunho packed up what they had, and with his brother they began to travel from town to town, continuing to try and pick up some more money as they moved. They finally reached the coast, now well into their early adulthood, still sharing stories and music where they could without being run out by soldiers. One night, as they wandered the streets for somewhere to sleep, a kindly baker invited them in, taking pity on them. The baker provided them with food, allowing them to sleep inside the shop for as long as they needed. That was the safe place that Yunho and his brother needed to start over. Yunho’s brother began to work for the baker as payment for their kindness as Yunho continued his storytelling. That was, until, one day he ran into two other men while heading to his usual storytelling spot. The two men were scouring a map with intensity, seemingly trying to figure out where exactly they were. Yunho stopped to help them, before recognizing one of them - "The Charitable Pirate King", Hongjoong. For Yunho’s kindness, the captain offered Yunho a position in his crew. Yunho was initially hesitant, not wanting to leave his brother behind, which Hongjoong sensed. Hongjoong let Yunho know that his offer would remain open until the next dawn and walked away. Yunho scurried back to the bakery, desperate to speak with his brother. As soon as Yunho mentioned the offer, his brother immediately told him to take it - Yunho couldn’t spend the rest of his life looking after him, and he would be okay working with the baker. He told Yunho that he could always visit if he needed to, but that this was a once in a lifetime opportunity - he shouldn’t miss it. Late that night, Yunho left his brother to join Hongjoong on his adventures on the Silver Light. This is where he would eventually meet his best friend, Mingi, and become the light of inspiration and encouragement for the crew. His stories and music would always bring a lighthearted air to the others, one that would keep them going through their darkest challenges.

Yeosang: Half-Elf Rogue

Yeosang had no memory of his parents, who happened to be elven and human royalty. There were many, though, who were outraged by Yeosang's birth, stating that a half-human half-elf was blasphemous. One such person was his father, the elven prince’s royal advisor, who stole Yeosang in the dead of night, abandoning him where Yeosang would never be found - a large human village far outside their borders, whose street urchins took pity on him and did their best to keep him alive. As he grew, they taught him the ins and outs of survival on the street, from pickpocketing to various scams. His quiet demeanor and innocent-looking face kept him out of trouble while he snuck around to survive. It would be his sneaking around that would lead him to Wooyoung. One day, an adolescent Yeosang was wandering the alleyways a village, trying to lay low after his most recent pickpocketing spree when he heard a commotion from the other side of the alley - soldiers, clearly chasing after someone. Yeosang went to the end of the alley, laying in wait before a figure flashed in his view. He grabbed the figure, yanking them into the alley and covering their mouth as the soldiers rushed by. That figure was Wooyoung, a local troublemaker that Yeosang had heard about. To “thank” Yeosang for saving him, Wooyoung swore allegiance to Yeosang, refusing to leave his side (much to Yeosang’s dismay). However, Yeosang managed to find use for Wooyoung - he was now the (very loud) distraction to Yeosang’s heists. Together, they were a formidable pairing, managing to pull off even the most difficult of capers. Fully grown, Yeosang and Wooyoung became notable names in the thievery game - until one day, when they picked the wrong target. Charging through the streets of a coastal city, they scoured everywhere they could for a place to hide from the kingdom’s soldiers. They came across a menacing looking ship and raced aboard, finding a place to hide amongst the cargo on the deck. When they heard the soldiers leave, they stood up, only to find three men staring back at them - Seonghwa, Yunho, and “The Charitable Pirate King” Hongjoong. Fearing the worst, Wooyoung immediately began to spin a tale about how they got there, while Yeosang looked for an escape route - until Hongjoong began to laugh. The notorious captain let the two of them know that he had heard tell of their skills and heists, and offered the two of them a place on their crew. Knowing they had nothing left to lose, Yeosang and Wooyoung agreed, finally in a place where their skills could be used for the good of others.

San: Half-Orc Barbarian

San was actually raised in a very loving home - parents who adored him and cared for him, and an older sister who taught him the ways of the world. They lived mostly isolated on a farm, selling what they grew to the local villages. They were beloved by the people they sold to, and they always commented on what a lovely family they made. However, there were some in society that saw half-orcs as inferior. One day, as the family was tending to the farm, some strangers came begging for food and shelter. Because of their kind natures, San’s parents took the strangers in, not realizing that those strangers would be their undoing. San and his sister do not remember much of what happened next - all they remember is fire, blood, and suddenly only having each other as family. That was the day that would haunt San forever. Many years later, a now grown San was sitting at the bar of his sister’s tavern. She had made a name for herself, using the hidden inheritance their parents had saved for them to build the tavern that would keep herself and San alive and safe. He sat at the bar, nursing an ale that his sister had poured for him, when a group of already drunken thieves barged in. They instantly became a nuisance, harassing every other patron they came across. San could feel his temper beginning to boil at their antics. It wasn’t until they began harassing his sister, the most lewd and awful comments escaping their foul mouths that San snapped. He launched himself from his seat, charging at the group with force. Despite his powerful strength, San quickly found himself overpowered by this drunken group. That was when a group of strangers joined in the fray, beginning their attacks against the drunken thieves with ease. The unconscious thieves were soon thrown out of the tavern, leaving them to the constables for the night. San went to thank the group, the leader introducing himself as Hongjoong, “The Charitable Pirate King”. San had heard whispers of this crew’s adventures from some of the other patrons, but he admitted to the crew that he thought they were just a myth. The crew laughed, joking with San to not tell anyone - they had a reputation to upkeep after all. San’s sister thanked the crew profusely for helping and keeping her tavern safe, offering them a reward for their services. They declined any reward, but turned to San and offered him a spot in their crew, stating they could use his strength. San’s sister encouraged him to go, knowing that he was meant for so much more than just being a tavern bouncer. San left, promising his sister to send money and to visit often, before setting off with the crew of the Silver Light. There, they presented him with the weapon that would be his crowning jewel - a large battle hammer that only he could wield. San could use his passion and his strength to continue to fight for those who needed it, knowing he always had someone else to watch his back. 

Mingi: Human Druid

Mingi grew up in near isolation, despite being born into a very deeply connected faction of druids. He was born on an island far away from any mainland, where the whole population lived in connection to the island nature and all its creatures. Despite being collectivistic, with every child raised together as a group with the same naturalistic magic, Mingi was always an outcast. It did not help that as he grew, he grew to be tall and broad, very different from all of the others. This led to him being teased and ousted, even though Mingi was an incredibly kind and gentle soul. And so, Mingi regularly found himself alone. One day, a now grown Mingi was sitting on the beach by himself, taking time to meditate to the sound of the waves crashing on the shore. He was feeling at peace until he heard some of the others giggling, beginning to taunt him for his “scary” looks and the fact that he was all alone. Mingi did his best to ignore them, but they came closer, continuing to taunt him. Mingi began to feel his emotions taking over, the magic coursing through his body becoming too overwhelming to handle. He started to lose control, and he bolted for the water with the others chasing after him, shifting into his wild shape as he dove into the waves - a large, intimidating-looking whale shark. Despite being entirely harmless, the size and look of his whale shark form scared away those who taunted him, finally leaving him alone again. Mingi swam off, knowing that there was no longer a point in returning home - he wasn’t welcome anyway. That was when Mingi heard a voice above him, calling out if he was all right. Mingi, in his wild shape, peeked out above the water. A random stranger peered out from over the railings of a large ship with a concerned look. Confused, Mingi shifted back into his human form, and the stranger cast a rope ladder over the railing for him to climb. As Mingi crawled over onto the deck, the stranger handed him a cloth to dry himself off, again asking Mingi if he was okay, noting that he had watched Mingi be chased into the water. The stranger introduced themselves as Yunho, sitting Mingi down as another stranger walked up with food for Mingi to eat. They asked if he wished for them to bring him back to the island, but Mingi refused - he had no home anymore. That day, Mingi found himself in the care of the crew of the Silver Light, no longer alone. Mingi would still have nightmares of his time on the island, but Yunho took it upon himself to calm Mingi’s mind, always sharing stories and songs to bring him comfort. Mingi knew that he would never be an outcast again, finding a home that loved him no matter what. 

Wooyoung: Human Barbarian/Rogue

From the time he was born, Wooyoung made his presence known. As a toddler, he would regularly yell “hello” to everyone he passed by, always asking questions and showing affection to those around him whenever he got the chance. He was full of love and passion and volume, a spark of joy to behold. However, that spark of joy would soon be dimmed. A cult raided his village, destroying everything and capturing all of the children for the sake of their master to be put to work. Wooyoung and all the other children were forced to build shrines for this cult in complete silence. Every day was filled with grueling hard labor, the likes of which no child should ever experience - and it nearly drove Wooyoung insane. Years he spent in silence, his light nearly snuffed out completely, until one day, he snapped. Tired of being forced into silence, Wooyoung screamed out, rallying the other children and teens into revolting. Wooyoung picked up a pickaxe and began to smash the chains that bound each child together, sending them into a full-fledged riot. Wooyoung and the other now older members of the group fought off the guards, his passion inspiring them all to liberate themselves from the cult. That day, every one escaped into freedom, leaving Wooyoung to now live his life as he pleased. He hopped from place to place, no longer afraid to use his voice, causing whatever chaos he needed to in order to keep him alive and supplied. This pattern of chaos-creating would end up being how he met his best friend, Yeosang. Wooyoung latched on to Yeosang, the two of them finding a balance and rhythm that helped both of them achieve their goals. Wooyoung’s loud, boisterous, and chaotic personality served as an excellent distraction for Yeosang’s silent, tactical means of getting what they needed. Even when they found themselves faced with “The Charitable Pirate” Hongjoong, Wooyoung did his best to get them out, even if it meant yelling, lying, or fighting their way out. Thankfully, that was not the case, and Wooyoung followed Yeosang in joining the crew of the Silver Light. Wooyoung immediately took it upon himself to bring everyone together, using his friendly demeanor to start breaking the silences that fell upon the still new crewmates. Though they would never admit it out loud, the rest of the crew (even Yeosang) were thankful for Wooyoung, because they knew without his overly-friendly and loud nature, they would never be as connected with each other. Wooyoung would never have to live in silence again. 

Jongho: Human Fighter

Jongho was born to a family of nobles who served an arrogant, prideful royal family. These royals took their role too seriously, and made sure that everyone who worked for them “knew their place”. Even as a child, Jongho never understood what made them so different aside from their title, but his parents told him to keep quiet and do as he was told so he would be okay. And so, Jongho did as he was told, training in various forms of combat and weaponry to serve the family as a personal guard. From a young age, he showed great potential in anything he picked up, and had a knack for learning things quickly. He showed the royals that he was an asset to hold on to, even if it meant having to keep his opinions to himself. One day, Jongho walked through the halls of the royal palace, tasked with guarding the crown prince. Everything was quiet until one of the royal maids accidentally tripped and fell into the crown prince, nearly knocking him over. Before Jongho could even react, the crown prince shoved the maid to the floor, screaming at her in disgust for “daring to touch royalty”. Jongho was horrified at the scene - a grown man screaming at an innocent woman for an accident she had no control over. Jongho, without even thinking, immediately stood in front of the now distraught woman, still on the floor, staring the crown prince down with a glare. The crown prince ordered Jongho to move aside so he could “teach the wretch a lesson”, but Jongho refused, finally letting his feelings towards the royal family be known - they were crass, arrogant, and didn’t deserve to rule if this was how they treated the people who worked for them. Needless to say, Jongho was quickly banished from the kingdom, with nothing but his skills to keep him going. Jongho bounced around from town to town, doing odd jobs that used his skills well to keep him going. Still a knight at heart, Jongho regularly practiced his combat with any weapon he could find in the early hours of the day before heading into town for work. This habit would continue even in the harbor town he now resided in, stocking cargo ships and hauling fresh fish from the fishermen. One morning, as he practiced as usual, a voice called out to him, stating that Jongho was “doing it wrong”. Immediately whipping around to sass the voice that he was doing it properly, he came face-to-face with “The Charitable Pirate King” Hongjoong. The captain recounted that he and his crew had watched Jongho practice for a few mornings now, seeing his potential and skill. Hongjoong offered Jongho a chance to put those skills to use as a part of the crew of the Silver Light. Jongho, having nothing left to lose, agreed nonchalantly, walking with the captain to begin his new life using his power and knowledge to do what he wanted. He no longer had to be at the mercy of those who saw him as a means to an end - he was now the fighter that he longed to be. 

[jack-kellys]

k so yall voted to see my 2023 final essay for a class called london in performance. which wasnt too serious. basically i compared the national theatre's phaedra [which i did not like that much tbh. one of the lines in my paper is "to truly send the criticism home, compared to the white critics who praised the play with four stars, Polish editor Andrzej Lukowski and Pakistani critic Arifa Akbar are the ones to only give two stars on the story that centers an illegal immigrant (The Stage)." just saying] as an adaptation of a classic greek play to the west end's general cash-in commercialization. and then my argument was that the center of that pendulum is somehow fucking newsies @ the troub im so sorry.

HERE ARE THE HIGHLIGHTS:

first of all i got to cite myself as like. an expert which was SO funny

"To preface, because of my five years of close knowledge about this subject matter, its multiple stagings, scripts, and casts, I am well aware that this musical as a whole is quite average."

importantly, my definition of a revival in this paper is "creating something accessible to a modern audience for the sake of improving and adapting an original source material into a performance". if it doesnt improve and/or adapt it then it fails imo

"Lines [in the script] that hold weight are sort of dropped, in favor of keeping the show hopeful at all times. The reflection lies in the younger generation taking hold of a new age, rather than in workers rights, child poverty and abuse, and unification.  Newsies at Wembley Park, the first professional revival and first iteration of the musical outside of the United States, flips this as a performance."

i called newsies 2012/livesies staging "left-right up-down" like a video game combo lmfao

"Wembley Park’s revival inserts viewers into the action of the city by default, but also the events that befall the newsboys.... Two police officers stalk in front of the audience as a scene with a new sense of impending doom plays out on the stage. The strikebreaking battle is... level with many of the audience’s seats, and boys escape officers and grown men through the aisles helping each other stand upright while shouts of “Move, move!” are called out .... as a pair hurry away up a ladder behind my aisle seat."

"The expansive take on staging (since as I said before, the musical itself is average) almost takes the place of design. ... Pulitzer’s desk resides on top of a platform of newspaper stacks, emphasizing his position in the hierarchy over the children selling those papers especially as the newsboys push it on with much effort. The towers are made to look like black metal with rust and peels. The lighting is white and natural during scenes. The ensemble’s costumes look more similar to each other, making them appear more unified visually compared to Broadway. The design is in the ensemble’s interactions, dance, and fluid movement through the city of the show, letting the performance and the dancers speak for themselves."

then mandatory michael section:

"What struck me the most watching it had to be Jack’s casting, and new character positionality within the context of the story. Never before has Jack Kelly been a Black newsboy union leader, not in any professional production. Played by Michael Ahomka-Lindsay, Jack’s role was much more electric. His fear of leading the strike became more personal, his baggage with the reform center gained more onstage intersectionality, his relationship with Katherine became even more complex and out of reach. It changes many of those past dropped lines, it made me hear lines differently than I had used to. It’s a more effective reflection that makes the events in the story a bit more tangible to an audience that could have initially been caught up in the grandiose dance numbers- not to mention the performance opening amidst strikes nationwide."

best part:

jack-kellys. "Welcome to..." Jack-Kellys, 23 Jan 2023, 3:46AM, this-is-what-i-mean-by-five-years-of-close-experience.