#strange strange old man but he means the world 2 me

[route214]

⠀‖⠀hisao is exactly the kind of person to ask his gothitelle to show him the end of the universe as we know it, as that's something they can apparently -- according to the pokedex -- just . . . show.⠀no real reason other than he's so damn curious All Of The Time

[yaksha-lover]

Summary: After the events of ghost bride, Vil and Leona decide to continue their competition to determine who is the best suitor. They decide you, being new to the school, are the best option to try and romance.

Multi x GN Reader (Leona, Vil, Ace, Deuce, Floyd, Rook, Azul, Malleus)

Part 2

“Yeah, whatever, you failed too. Doesn’t mean a thing. Any sane person would’ve chosen me over you,” Leona snarks.

“Prove it, then. Let’s choose someone else and we’ll be able to determine who the real winner is,” Vil replies, not bothering to look up from the compact he’s using to apply his makeup.

Leona’s ears perk a little at the idea, but he turns his nose up at it anyway. “Like who? Everyone at this school’s already stepping over each other to get a picture with you. Not exactly a fair competition, blondie.”

“Our dear prefect hasn’t been at the school long, and they’ve never known me as a celebrity since they’re from another world. It seems they would be the fairest way to continue our little competition,” Vil pauses, looking back over at Leona. “If that’s okay with you, your majesty.”

Leona rolls his eyes. “Old bride clearly had no taste. At least the prefect won’t have all these delusional biases about their ‘prince,’” he grumbles. “Fine, they’ll do.”

“Alright, then whoever can get them to accept an invitation to the upcoming semi-formal will be the winner.”

“Deal. Try not to feel too hurt by their rejection, it’s not as though you can compete with a real prince like myself.”

“I’m not worried, you hardly qualify as a prince, lazy second-son that you are. Unless you’re planning to actually try for once? Could it be you have another motivation for wooing the prefect?”

“As if I would go for a pathetic little herbivore like them. I’m in this to prove a point to you, that’s all,” Leona huffs. “You’re the one who suggested them. Projecting, are we?”

Vil smirks at his denial. “My, my, quite the tsundere little kitty you are. I have no reason to deny, I have become quite fond of them recently. Enough to stop you from becoming a perpetual nuisance in their life, at least.”

-

The next day, you sit at your usual lunch table with Ace, Deuce, and Grim, when a certain grumpy lion approaches you.

“Herbivores,” Leona says, narrowing his eyes at the sight of Grim devouring an entire leg of chicken. He turns his gaze to you. “Get up, prefect, I need to talk to you.”

“Kinda busy,” you mumble, mouth full of food.

“Why, hello prefect,” Vil greets, walking over from his table where Rook and Epel watch on. “Ah, let me get that for you.” He pulls a handkerchief from his pocket, gently tilting your face when you look up at him and dabbing at the corner of your mouth. “Now you look perfect.” Vil looks up at Leona, saccharine smile ablaze. “Was this man bothering you?”

You ignore his strange behaviour and decide to just continue eating.

Leona glares at him, spotting the rose in Vil’s hand. “Aren’t you about to do the same thing, Schoenheit?”

Vil scoffs, glimpsing the small jewelry box Leona is subtly holding behind his back. “Hardly. I was simply checking in on my dear friend, who seemed distressed by your presence.”

Between Grim looking over at your food every two seconds and the bickering going on above your head, you decide to give in and let him have the rest of yours. “…I think I’m just going to leave.”

The two housewardens are too busy bickering to notice you making your escape, leaving them with the rest of your table.

“I never knew you felt so threatened by me. You really had to resort to sabotaging my attempts?”

“I was not! You just happened to be in the way of my own plans,” Vil dismisses.

Ace finally looks up from his lunch to address the situation. “What’s up with you, housewardens? Why are you hovering around the prefect like that?”

“Stick your nose out of this, freshman. It’s none of your business.”

Vil sighs. “If you must know, I wish to ask the prefect to attend the semi-formal as my date. I came to ask them.”

Ace looks back in forth in surprise between Vil and Leona. “You too, Leona? Huh, never figured you’d be interested in anyone but yourself.”

“Don’t lump me in with him. This is just a competition for me. Neither of us won when trying to charm the ghost, so now I’m going to take my victory over him.”

Ace relaxes a little at his words, turning to the other housewarden. “You’re doing this for a competition, Vil? I know Leona is shameless, but surely you’d never stoop to his level?”

“It’s not just for the competition. I do like the prefect, but now I have the chance to take them to the dance and to show Leona how much more charming I am than him.”

“I mean, I hate to rain on your guys parade but I think it’s a lost cause. The prefect definitely likes me. We’re best friends after all, so they’d probably choose me if I asked.” Ace says nonchalantly, earning him a glare from Deuce. “Not that I’m interested in them! Obviously, I don’t care. But, uh, if it’s a competition, of course I have to win.”

Deuce rolls his eyes: “You’re such an idiot. And wrong. I’m their best friend.”

“And where do you think you’re going?” Vil asks Leona when he starts to walk away.

“To nap. It’s exhausting dealing with you children. Try not to get in my way, next time,” Leona replies, not bothering to turn around as he saunters away.

-

The next time you’re approached by the housewardens is in the hallway after class. You jump in surprise when a hand reaches around your waist to pull you into an empty classroom. The long brown hair that tickles your face gives you a pretty good idea of who the culprit is.

“Prefect,” Leona greets casually , as if he didn’t just basically kidnap you with no explanation.

“What are you doing? Will you let go of me, please,” you sigh.

Leona loosens his grip and turns you around in his arms to face him. He brushes a hand over your cheek, tucking a stray piece of hair out of your face. “Are you sure that’s what you want?” he says, voice softer than you’ve ever heard it. He’s so close his breath brushes over your neck.” “For me to let go of you?”

“Leona?! I-”

Your response is interrupted by the sound of a bell and the noise of chatting students approaching the classroom you currently occupy. You and Leona fling apart, but there isn’t enough time for you to calm your flustered face before Floyd, just entering the room, is able to see it.

“Shrimpy! What are you doing in here with sea lion?” Floyd takes in your embarrassed expression. “You haven’t been doing anything naughty, have you? And without me?”

“Nothing happened, eel. Let’s go, prefect.”

“Now you’re trying to take shrimpy away after hogging them all to yourself?”

“Sorry, Floyd,” you appease, not wanting to get into another ridiculous situation, “but he’s right. I have a class to get to.”

“Class is boring. I’d much rather be playing with you, but suit yourself. I’ll just have to squeeze you sometime later!”

Leona trails behind you as you walk to your next class, demanding an explanation from him.

“So why did you try and seduce me?”

“Seduce? You’re so perverted. Have you forgotten I’m a prince? I was only trying to-”

His reasoning is interrupted by Crewel’s glare as you silently head into class and take your spot beside Ace, leaving Leona to get a talking to for making you late.

-

“Leona and Vil have both been acting so weird lately, and I don’t know why.”

You miss the side-eye Ace and Deuce give each other as they ‘uh huh’ your venting.

“So,” Ace says, leaning towards you a bit, “Have you heard of the upcoming dance?” He winces when Deuce kicks him from under the table. “It’s kinda stupid, but if you wanted to go-”

“Trappola! Quiet or you’ll have extra work to do after class.”

Crewel seemed to be saving you a lot today.

-

Later, you notice Vil ahead of you, walking by himself through the halls. He drops something on the ground, but walks away before you can call out to him. Picking up his dropped handkerchief, you rush after him, finding yourself in yet another dim, empty classroom.

“Vil?” you call. He turns around, and you hold his lost item out to him. “You dropped this.”

His eyes light up and he smiles when he sees what you’ve brought. “Oh! Thank you so much, dear.” He approaches you, suddenly dropping a kiss on your cheek, making your face heat up. He winks. “Just a little reward for your endless kindness.”

“Uh, it was nothing, really.”

“Nonsense!” Vil leans against the wall, filling your view. “In fact, let me repay you. Do you have some time now?”

Before you can respond, someone flickers the lights on, the brightness now revealing the room was less empty than you assumed. The sound of a violin fills your ears as you spot Rook in the corner of the room, playing beautifully. Epel stands in front of a small table, set with two plates and a vase of roses in the middle. He blushes a little when you spot him, giving you a gentle wave. Both of them wear suits. Epel approaches Vil to remove his school overcoat to put on a more traditional suit jacket.

Still lost in confusion, you let Vil guide you to your seat at the table. He sits down across from you, taking your hands into his. Epel brings out a slice of chocolate cake, setting it between you, before going to sit near Rook.

“Ah, I hope you don’t mind sharing, dear.” He winks again. “You know, I really would like to repay you for your act of kindness.”

“Did you just- have this all set up? In case you dropped something…? It’s really nothing, it took me literally two seconds to return.”

“So humble, it’s one of your many fantastic qualities. I am serious about treating you, though. You know the upcoming dance?” You nod, not liking where this is going. “How about I accompany-”

Before he can finish, the door flies open and Leona struts in. He, seemingly, is not fazed by this set up in the middle of an empty classroom.

He ignores Vil and the others completely, turning to you. “Prefect, we never finished our conversation from earlier,” he grumbles.

“You’re right. Sorry, Vil, but it would be rude to keep him waiting. I better just-”

“Please, I have something important to ask you. Just one moment of you time is all I ask.” Vil places him arm on your shoulder.

“They already made up their mind, Schoenheit. Back off, they wanna come with me.” Leona grabs hold of your hand, trying to tug you out of Vil’s grasp.

Vil does not give in, taking hold of your other hand. “Putting words into their mouth, Kingscholar? They were about to choose me.”

Stuck between the two of them, locked in a glaring contest, you try to pull your arms from both of them.

“Merveilleux!” Rook stops playing his violin, approaching the group of you. “To have two beautiful men trying to make you swoon, c’est le paradis!Would you like me to become a contender for your heart as well?” Rook sweeps his arms around you gently, before Leona pushes him off.

“Fuck off, I don’t need another one of you pomefiore brats swarming around them.”

Rook turns back to you. “He’s quite possessive, are you into that type of man, I wonder? I can be that type too~”

“I’ve gotta go,” you say, taking this chance to run out of the class.

-

You’re asked to sit in on a meeting with the teachers and housewardens, which Vil and Leona decide to use as their last opportunity to win once most of the others have left. Only you, Leona, Vil, and Azul remain, still packing up your things.

“Prefect? I apologize to bother you again, but if I could, I’d still love to ask you-”

Vil is, once again, interrupted before he can finish.

“Prefect,” Leona says, touching your cheek. You turn to face him just in time for him to pull out a jewelry box from his pocket, popping it open in front of you. “I-”

“What the hell? Are you actually proposing to me?!”

“What are you on about?” It’s only then that Leona seems to realize your confusion. “A ring, Ruggie?? I said get something nice, not a ring!”

Ruggie strolls in from around the corner, shrugging. “I’ve never even seen jewelry this expensive before. How would I know what you wanted me to get? I’ll take it if they don’t want it.” He pauses, suddenly remembering something. “Also, did you still want me to bring in the flowers? There’s four hundred roses just sitting in the other room.”

You turn back to Leona incredulously. “Why did you send Ruggie to- Forget it, why have you guys been acting so strange?”

“Leona and Vil made a bet on who could get you to agree to go as their date to the semi-formal. It seems their small, fragile egos were quite bruised from their rejection by the ghost bride,” Azul interjects, finally looking up from his book at the corner of the table.

Vil stares at him. “You truly have no loyalty nor shame.”

“Says you,” you quip.

“Yes, it’s quite pitiful. I heard rumours and used my resources to discover the truth. I thought you deserved to know, prefect.” Azul stands from his chair, approaching where you’re sitting to place a hand on your shoulder. “Now, if you still wanted to attend the event with someone who wasn’t planning on manipulating you into it, I would be happy to offer my services.”

Your narrowed eyes prompts Azul’s swift apology.

“Ah, I see now was not the correct time. I shall make my exit.” He leaves the room along with Ruggie, leaving you three alone.

“What is wrong with both of you? You didn’t learn your lesson with Eliza? It’s messed up to play with a person’s feelings like this, I’m not your little prop.”

“Prefect-” Vil starts, cutting himself off at the look you give him.

You give them each one last glare before walking out the door, barely hiding your laughter.

-

“You’re quite the actor, my dear,” Malleus says, slipping your hand into his own as the two of you walk towards Ramshackle.

“I know,” you laugh, “Did you see their faces? I think that’s the first time in his life Leona’s ever looked guilty. His tail was definitely between his legs.”

“Yes, it was rather unbecoming of him,” Malleus chuckles, before stopping his stride. “Although, you could have simply let them know you already belong to another.”

“True, but it shouldn’t really matter. It’s not as though they’re actually interested. They clearly just think of me as some kind of prize to win in an ego competition. Plus, it’ll certainly make a scene when we walk in to the dance together, won’t it?”

Malleus sighs, pulling you into his arms to drop a kiss on your head, before continuing to walk you home. “You are far too naive, my love. Not to worry, you have me to protect you from those beasts.”

[lacollectionneuse1967]

slip of the tongue part 2 - jealous

Theseus Scamander x Reader

“He was all over you,” he hisses. “I am not a possessive man, but I could’ve killed him then and there. He doesn’t know what’s mine.”

summary: after confessing your feelings for (and sleeping with) your boss, theseus, you join his brother newt's team of wizards attempting to thwart the notorious gellert grindelwald. when you're tasked with distracting and seducing a powerful dark wizard on your first mission, theseus gets uncharacteristically and fiercely jealous.

fem!reader. theseus scamander x reader.

category: smut with plot

warnings: 18+ smut, (light) mdom/femsub elements, unprotected penetration, semi-public sex, jealousy/possessive behavior, also the reader suffers brief unwanted sexual advances in a scene

part one / part two

Your dreams are uninventive. Your nightmares are even less so. 

Often you are hounded by dogs: drooling, snapping canines, bloodthirsty past the point of cognizance, they’re more open mouths than animals. Or, you’re standing on the hill where your old orphanage used to sit in North London, barefoot on the roof while the rest of London floods below, water rising, you know you’re going to drown. Or some other tired, boring allegory for your past catching up with you, at last, your blessings, your wand, crumbling to ash—you know what the dreams mean and they don’t scare you anymore. 

But tonight you are perfectly dreamless. The dream dogs, the wintry world outside, the sound of the wind whistling through the empty London streets, it cannot touch you now. The fireplace is crackling and warm orange light spills in beneath the door from the living room.

Theseus’s arm is draped over your body, your head is on his chest. Every part of your body where your bare skin meets his buzzes with contentment. His room is like a sanctuary, his arms a house that holds you. 

You don’t think you’ve slept for even a full hour. It’s still dark outside when you feel Theseus jostling your shoulder. 

“Y/N. Wake up, darling.” 

You sigh in response and are about to put up a fight, but when you meet his eyes they’re full of sore regret, apologetic. He wouldn’t ask you to leave his bed unless it was important.

You emerge from the covers and start to stretch. 

“What time is it?”

“I’m sorry, love, but it’s nearly four in the morning. We have to be going, it’s urgent.” 

You turn to look at him, he’s raking a hand through his hair, sitting up in bed.

“Did you sleep at all, Theseus?” You ask incredulously.

“No, too much to think about. And besides, I knew if I slept I wouldn’t be likely to wake. Better you sleep…”

Your heart wrenched. In a swell of affection, you went to him, crawling back over his body on the bed.

“No,” he groans, but his hands come around you, sliding down to your hips, anyway. You kiss his neck, raking your teeth over the skin there.

“Don’t do this to me,” he anguishes. His grip tightens on your hip, it’s meant to be chastising but it makes you want him more. “Please. We need to leave, Y/N.”

It wasn’t easy letting go of him. You know he would’ve given you what you wanted with enough persistence. 

“Okay, okay!” You relent, kissing his mouth with a smile. “I’ll stop terrorizing you now.” You leap out of bed again without complaint. 

When he stands he’s serious-Theseus again, your boss. And you love him still. 

For his sake, you pretend not to notice his erection in his boxer shorts. It looks painfully hard. 

“Get dressed,” he says to you before turning to the bathroom. “We need to get to Hogsmeade.”

It was wonderfully strange to see him like this—hair in wavy disarray, looking soft and subdued, barefoot and in his t-shirt. You want to appreciate the sight, you want to talk about what had happened between you and all that had been said. But his mind is elsewhere, preoccupied, and it seems you are both running late.

At your insistence, he lets you apparate to your apartment for a change of clothes, but then the two of you are off, running down the stairs of his building into the dark world below.

————— 

Hogsmeade is more of a detour. There is an incognito meet-up organized with none other than Professor Albus Dumbledore. You’d, mercifully, taken a train--the Hogwarts Express. Theseus mentioned that Dumbledore was being watched by the Ministry, and that there were anti-apparition charms put up around the village and the castle.

You were just grateful to see him sleeping, at last, on the way there. 

It was barely daylight when the two of you arrived, the sun bleak and pink over the Highlands, providing no warmth. You were grateful for the coffee you'd nursed on the train, as you were grateful to relieve yourself of the confidential documents from the Ministry. Their weight was an invisible one for you, evidence of your betrayal.

"Some aspiring Auror you are," you thought to yourself, bitterly.

“I tried to organize them for you. I started to, actually,” You supplied sheepishly when Dumbledore regarded the haphazard stacks of parchment, laid out on one of the tables in what you assumed was his brother's inn.

Dumbledore smiled warmly at you regardless and thanked you sincerely. 

When you step out of the inn, you look to Theseus just as he looks over his shoulder at you. You're both more or less sleepless, and cold, and it seems the both of you have betrayed the Ministry and embarked on a hopeless mission, without many allies in the world.

But you were a united front.

It surprises you when he says, so earnestly that the tension in his shoulders seems to deflate, “God, I missed you. I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed you.”

You blush, but don’t break his gaze. You’re not afraid to let him see you anymore. 

“Where to, Mr. Scamander?”

He flexes his jaw like he’s not thinking about the plan at all, like he’s thinking about last night. But then, with a sigh, the moment is broken. 

“Germany,” he says. “It’s time you meet my younger brother and the rest of the resistance.” 

He says ‘resistance’ like it's some inside joke, some funny jab. You don't understand it until you arrive at the hotel room in Berlin. 

-----------

Other than the hair, that uncommon shade of reddish, honey brown, and the apparent kindness and sense of humanity, Newt is nothing like Theseus. In fact, when he comes over to greet you he can hardly meet your eye, his head is half bowed in the other direction, his mouth a nervous, flat line.

"Pleasure to meet you, Y/N. I was sure that you'd do the right thing when Theseus sent you his letter. It was... very brave of you."

You look to Theseus in sharp amusement, eyes sparkling.

"Was there ever a question of whether or not I'd betray you? Did you really think there was a chance I'd turn you over to the authorities?"

Theseus places a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

"Come now, Y/N," he says. "You know if I were to die I'd prefer it to be at your hand anyway."

You want to roll your eyes, but you're not sure to what extent he's joking.

You shake Newt's hand. You're soon after introduced to a muggle baker named Jacob and an astute, somewhat brash Auror from America named Tina. You're not much of a people-person, but you find that you like them both, immensely. They feel genuine, the sort of strong, singular characters that couldn't deceive anyone if they tried. That is why Newt's explanation of your task for the night sends a bolt of dread down your spine.

"We need to need to retrieve a magical object from a German Minister's office. I-I can't say much, it's better you don't know, but it's safe to assume that a large portion of the German Ministry of Magic has already fallen. Helmut, Vogel--and who knows how many others are under the influence of Grindelwald."

"Which German Minister's office?" Theseus says. His hands are in his pockets, he's leaning against the windowsill, the picture of nonchalance, his hair swept back. He's so handsome you could cry.

Newt ignores him. "Now, tonight may be our only chance. There's a diplomatic gala at the ministry itself. I can get us all in, Pickett and I can handle sneaking into the office itself, but there are five people who know about the object being at the ministry, who will be on the lookout and who need to be distracted until we're out."

He doled out assignments swiftly. Theseus was to distract the head of security. Jacob, the two waitstaff who served as the Minister's private informants. For Tina, the German Auror, Helmut. And for you? The Minister himself.

"Which Minister, Newt?" Theseus asks again, the edge in his voice unmistakable, though you don't understand it.

"Baron Dietrich, the Minister of Finance," Newt says at last.

Dietrich. Most of your work for Theseus was domestic, but you try to remember what you can. Dietrich was some Bavarian-born descendent of the aristocracy. Hedonistic, high society. He fought in the war, but gained his reputation in the drinking clubs of Berlin. Even you knew he was ruthless, notorious. A brute of a man without much respect for the law. That was the extent of what you knew.

Newt is rushing to explain before you or Theseus can speak.

“Please, Y/N, Theseus." He looks between the two of you, trying to appeal to both. "Dietrich, h-he likes…he likes beautiful women and he-"

Theseus crosses the room to his brother in a single stride. "Yes, and do you have any idea what he likes to do to those beautiful women, Newt?” He's seething. “Even everyone at the British Ministry knows he brutalizes them."

“I-I wouldn’t ask her if it weren’t absolutely necessary. So long as she’s able to distract him at the party, keep him interested there, at the party, nothing will happen to her—to you!” Newt turns to you now, addressing you directly. “I’m sure of it…”

Theseus sucks his teeth and turns away from his brother, still fuming. “Absolutely not. You will not send her away from my side, that’s final. Not to that man.”

“Theseus, please-"

“She’s muggleborn, Newt! Do you know what men like Baron Dietrich do to wizards like her? If he found out, if any one of Grindelwald's followers did, she'd be killed.” Theseus is speaking with such firm authority, but you know him well enough to detect the barely concealed panic in his eyes, the fracture just beneath the fortress. “Send Tina instead, she’s an Auror.”

“But Y/N is exactly the sort of girl that Dietrich would be-"

“I want to be an Auror too,” your voice sounds strange to your ears when you find it. It has a clear, confident quality, musical and lucid.

Theseus looks to you in shock. You wonder if he knew about the promotion you’d been offered at all, if he knew all you’d sacrificed to stay close to him—your very dreams dashed to pieces. From his expression, naked and open as day, he did not. 

“I can do it,” you make an effort to sound settled. Unshaken.

Being a young, vulnerable girl in the streets of East London, at the orphanage after, and then being a woman at the British Ministry as an adult, you’d dealt with plenty of over-friendly and entitled men. Boorish men were everywhere and were not uniquely monstrous. You hoped Baron Dietrich wasn’t either. 

"It's settled then," Jacob claps his hands together, seeming relieved that the tension between the two brothers has evaporated. Theseus is slumped over, leaning back on the nightstand in apparent defeat. "We're going to a party!"

Tina places her hand on your arm, leading you towards the closet. She doesn't seem to be terribly affectionate, so you're grateful to her for extending you this small kindness now.

"Here, Y/N," She says. "Let's get you dressed. We have plenty of time to go over the plan. It'll be okay."

------------------

Your outfit, "disguise" you suppose, is nothing like the subdued robes of your companions. You don't know why you're surprised when they ask you to enter the ministry ten minutes after them, alone.

The skirt of your dress is flowy and short, like a dancer's, ending just above your knee, something that might've been acceptable a decade prior, given the fashion trends. It's made of delicate petals of off-white fabric, adorn with tiny silver and pearlescent beads, glittering. Meant to draw attention. It's sleeveless and the top is breathtakingly form-fitting, pinching in your waist and hugging every curve of your body, but you are gratefully afforded an elegant high neckline. Silk, ivory-colored, wrist-length gloves that do nothing for the cold cover your hands and a fur half-coat is draped over your shoulders. Your lipstick is a deep red.

You understand what it means, these luxury items, your styling, the fact that you were instructed to enter alone. By no design of your own, the implication was that you were an escort, a madame of the night. No wonder Newt had Theseus leave the hotel first, before he could catch a glimpse of you. You didn't dare imagine his reaction.

As you enter the gala, handing the doorman your fabricated invitation without a glance, every head turns to you. Chatter stills as you pass, the women gawk and the men look stricken, hungry as the pack dogs in your dreams. Plates and trays sail overhead and the instruments play on, unattended. The German Ministry of Magic has spared no expense.

Patrons lean in close and speak hushed and anxiously. You assume the upcoming election for the highest office of the International Confederation of Wizards is on everyone's mind.

You head for the bar with your head held high, hoping it doesn't show on your face, your discomfort at being so seen. You were told Baron Dietrich would be at the bar with some of his men. With a trembling, gloved hand you motion the barman over and order a drink.

You don’t dare look for your friends. You assume things are going swimmingly for them, but for you? You are drowning in your finery.

You’re not even alone for a moment before the wolves descend. You should've known a man like Dietrich would come find you.

"Mädchen!" He approaches you partially, but expects you to come the rest of the way, waves you over with a meaty hand. When you raise an eyebrow, haughtily, he switches to English.

"Girl, come here." The timber of his voice is low, gravelly. He has a heavy brow, his hair is thick and peppered with gray. The gray does nothing to diminish the impression of his strength. In a fight without your wand, he could have your neck snapped, broken and rolling around its stem, in a heartbeat.

You walk over, leaving your drink at the bar, untouched.

The gala is housed in a mammoth, marble room, twenty foot ceilings held up by smooth columns, something that reminds you of Gringott's. But around the massive bar at the room's center are half-circle booths and tables, spiraling out like lily pads. You slide into Dietrich's booth and his arm goes around you immeditely.

He smells chokingly of cigars, a perfumey, sickly sweet smell. He is a bloated, thick-limbed man. No, you couldn't have fought him off. There are so many uniformed men at his table that some of the younger ones have to stand. With a sting of shock, you don't see how you could be of any influence on these men at all, they hardly see you as a person, aren't speaking to you. You hope Newt and Pickett work quickly.

Another young man, dressed in what looks like a soldier's uniform, slides into the booth after you, sandwiching you in next to Dietrich. You let out of noise of shock and begin to push him off you when Dietrich grabs both your wrists.

"Don't be fussy. This is my young friend, newly recruited. I plan to make him my protégé."

The other men slap the boy over the shoulder, jostling him in congratulations. He smiles meekly. You could hate him for that meekness. That pathetic deference to power.

"We'll share you tonight, of course." Dietrich is looking at the boy, not you. "In my office."

Dietrich's hand clamps over your exposed thigh and his fingernails jab into the fat of your thigh. You don't react to the bright bite of pain. The other boy begins to lean into you, breath hot over your neck.

Whatever small bird lives in your ribs begins to beat itself against that cage, flailing and thrashing.

"No!" You can't help the edge of panic in your voice. Dietrich is too strong, so you don't bother, but you shove the boy off of you and out of the booth without much effort. The boy stumbles out, dumbfounded.

Dietrich snatches your wrist with real fury, bruisingly.

"What?! You're for sale, aren't you?" He won't hurt you in front of his men, not at the gala, but his face is so colored with anger that it's nearly purple.

"Please," there's a real plea in your voice when you say it, you try to cover it up with a hurried smile, you try to look charming. "Dance with me, sir?"

That seems to sedate him. He looks irritated, but pleased by your attention. At least he won't be able to molest you in front of all his colleagues and superiors.

He leads you to the dance floor and the entire way your mind is racing, scrambling for purchase, trying to figure out how you're going to keep him out of his office. He made it clear he had plans to go there later tonight with his men. With you.

And he was an even cruder man than you'd thought, he'd made no attempt to even flirt with or seduce you. His interest in you was moreso entitlement, the same interest a predator has for a slab of meat.

Your wand, concealed on your person, gave you little comfort. Newt had asked that you did not reveal yourself, didn't make a scene. But if it came down to it, you would fight Dietrich rather than submit to him. He was more than repulsive. He wanted to hurt you.

"Please," you think to yourself. "Please, God, don't make me-"

You startle at the large hand that grips your waist and spins you away, just before you reach the dance floor.

Dietrich, abandoned, turns in flustered outrage and is swallowed by the crowd. You're being whisked away before he can fully react, Theseus guiding you deftly out of the overfull room of diplomats.

You sob with relief. "Theseus-" you start, but he's leading you deeper, still, away from the gala.

It's not until you're in some pitch-dark, gaping mausoleum of a hallway that Theseus finally stops, pressing you delicately against the wall, holding your face in his hands like water, like something precious. He examines your body.

"Are you okay?" He asks, pressingly.

You could cry out in joy, the sight of his face is balm-like, giving you a familiar relief.

"Yes, yes!" You reassure him. "Is it done? Did we do it?"

Theseus nods in confirmation, still looking over you for injuries, turning over your wrists in his hands.

"The others are already out. It was quick. No one noticed a thing, we probably took too many precautions this time around..." He finally meets your eyes. The look in his is dark and indecipherable. When he swallows, it's raggedly. "You're really okay, Y/N?"

"Yes," you answer, hesitant at the intensity of his look. "Why?"

Theseus presses his body against yours harshly, you don't even have time to moan before he's swallowing it with his mouth. Your hands are all over him, but he gives you no room to move, it's as if he doesn't notice, the way he's pushing you up against the wall, kissing you like he wants to consume you.

"You're so damn beautiful," he mutters. "When you walked in I almost blew my cover just to go to you."

"Theseus," you pant. You're needy, you want him to keep kissing you but he's leaning his neck back, pinning you against the wall but holding himself away so he can look at you when he runs his warm hands from the backs of your thighs up to your ass. He hooks his fingers around the waistline of your panties and pulls them down so they're only hanging onto you by one of your ankles.

He leans in for another kiss, just as deep and wretched as the last, just as maddening.

He pulls away again with a pant.

"Your dress is too damn short," he curses under his breath.

"Are you angry at me?" You ask quietly, still writhing against him, desperate for friction, but suddenly self-conscious.

"No, no sweetheart," he soothes. "Not at you. You did so good. Such a good job." His praise has you leaning into his palm, which is cupping the side of your face.

You whimper, "I want you." You realize it's true as you're saying it. You can't ever lie to him. "I want you," you repeat, more insistently.

“He was all over you,” he hisses against your ear. “I am not a possessive man, but I could’ve killed him then and there. He doesn’t know what’s mine.” He punctuates the last word with a squeeze to your backside. 

"Theseus," you breathe out, helplessly. You can't believe this is happening. The wing of the German Ministry that you're in is completely dark, you can barely make out the tapestries and curtains hanging loose from the walls. But there's distant light at the end of the hall, and dim voices and music filter in and out from the gala a few rooms over.

But you want him to keep touching you more than you know better, know you should stop. More than anything.

He starts to hike your dress up, his movements urgent, when he stops abruptly. The spot where Dietrich's nails dug into your upper thigh is small, but he drew blood.

Theseus pauses, loosens his grip and lets you slide down the wall. With a slow-thudding heart you briefly fear he'll be so furious he'll run back to the gala, to find Dietrich, but he only bends down and kisses the wound, just barely, lips ghosting over skin, so gently you could cry. Kneeling before you, he looks like a prince, a knight. He's careful to avoid the wound when he lifts you back up against the wall.

You can't help but stare down at it, in awe, when he takes his dick out. Your body still thrills at the sight of it, there, huge, resting at your entrance. Theseus grinds a slow circle, sliding it against your wet folds, against your clit. You just stare.

He flashes you a lazy smile.

“What? You want me to help you put it in?” 

You moan, audibly. You're not doing a very good job at being discreet, but how can you when he says things like that to you and expects you to answer?

"Yes, please," you close your eyes, too flustered to meet his burning gaze when you say the words.

He grips the base of his cock and guides it into your pussy. Clamps a hand over your mouth to muffle the noises you're making, you whimper dumbly against his palm. Only releases his hand from your mouth once he's fully seated inside of you. The stretch is so big you know it would hardly take any movement at all for him to break that tension and make you come, drive you mad, unravel you completely. Just a few rocks against the wall, a few rolls of his hips and you'd be brainless and spent, crying out his name. You're already dripping around him. But you want to last longer for him this time.

He's looking directly into your eyes.

“You’re taking it, Y/N. You can choose where—in your mouth, on your face, inside. But you’re taking it all.” 

You nod. Then once again he's fucking you dumb, you don't even care that anyone could walk by, you're just thinking about how big he is, how good it feels. He's fucking your body slack now, you don't even have to do anything, he’s holding you up, lifting you onto and off of his cock roughly, debasingly.

His hands nearly circle your waist completely, they’re so large. Your mouth is stuck open, making stupid, feeble noises and he’s grunting small words of encouragement.

"Say my name," he says.

When you don't respond immediately, too blissed out to think, he slams your body down harder onto him and you nearly yelp.

"Hngh, Theseus. Theseus, please-"

You can feel him get almost unbearably hard inside of you, then he’s heaving you up and flipping you around, manhandling you, so your back is his against his torso, his right arm a bar across your chest, still inside. He brings a hand down roughly to your clit to touch you through it, and then you're both coming hard, your loud, jagged breaths echoing through the empty hall.

Your head spins, you're seeing stars.

"Baby," he says, when you don't come back to yourself immediately. "Was I too rough? Are you okay?"

You nod, breathlessly, but stumble when he finally stops supporting your weight. Your body is still juddering with pleasure, your fingertips quiver and feel numb as you smooth down your dress.

He's right, you think with a laugh. My dress is too damn short.

Theseus has the decency to look around the hall to make sure no one was watching, and to help you fix your hair and what's left of your lipstick. Your lips are pink and bitten now, swollen.

"They're probably wondering where we are. We should go." His voice is serious, unemotive, but there's something like devotion in the way he looks over you from head to toe, just one last time, to make sure you're beyond reproach. He hands you his jacket, which is huge on you, and slings your fur cape over his arm, bearing the cold himself like a gentleman.

A flurry of snow has begun to spiral down in the streets of Berlin, white particles curling and dancing in the wind. You've always found this type of snowfall to be so fanciful, the closest thing to magic in the muggle world. You walk back to the meeting point in comfortable silence, Theseus's hand clasped firmly around yours.

"He doesn't know what's mine," he'd said about Dietrich, about you. And last night, not that long ago, he'd said, "I love you."

Albeit, after you said it first. You look over to his oblivious face, checking both sides for cars before leading you across the busy street. His kind eyes, the line of his jaw..

You wonder how he could mean it... You'd so meticulously tried to conceal from him all the ugly parts of your life, your past, your fears, even your wants when they seemed to inconvenience him.

Could he love me? Could I let him?

"I want you," you'd said to him in the hall of the German Ministry. You realize now that you meant more than his body. For so long even just a look from him, just a word, was enough to sustain you.

But now you wanted more. Maybe it was selfish, undeserved, that the magical world was giving way to crisis, the dark forces were closing in around hope, and yet here you were, wanting to ask him for more...

part three here

author's note: hiiiiii! YES i switched to present tense from past tense in the last part, and no i'm not sorry... please let me know if you'd like me to continue this fic! i have a third & final chapter in mind. or i can take other theseus requests. the theseus brainrot is real... some AUs would be fun too! as always, feedback is welcome <3 taglist: @mystic-mara

[itsnothingofinterest]

This is probably a weird note to end my time with MHA's run on; but I find it so strange how I still see people calling Tomura out on just being a destruction-hungry villain with supposedly no plan or follow up...as though he is unique for that simplicity. Especially after the ending we got. Like, Deku and All Might never really had a plan when they were reshaping society by beating up the enemy and everything worked out fine for them, but does anyone call them out for just using violence to mindlessly solve everything with no further plan? (Well, yes. Me. Right now.)

Because like, really thinking about it; how different was All Might's plan from the start of his career to take down AFO and become a symbol, and Deku's plan to end the villains and bring everything back, from Shigaraki's plan to end hero society and bring about a world accommodating to the League? It all seemed to boil down to the same basic premise of Step 1) Beat everyone & everything making things worse, Step 2) ...it all just kind of works out from there. (I guess All Might planned on being inspiring and uplifting, but then we could also count Tomura's plan to be imposing and...uplifting but for different people. Deku was winging it every step of the way though.) Everyone's getting on Tomura's case for doing nothing but destroying; but all evidence from when the heroes do it suggests violence & destruction works. And it just never fails to bug me when people call Tomura out for stuff that's fine when heroes do it.

Which, yeah, let's touch on how it did just work out for Deku that way for no logical reason, least of all anything he planned. He punched out the big bad just like All Might and now things are like a hundred times better than they were under All Might with no more Tenkos abandoned in the street. If stuff like that just happens if you punch out your enemies hard enough, then why couldn't that happen for Tomura? Maybe if he had destroyed the government & hero society it would've, idk, been so fear/awe-inspiring that all the villains would've been nice and cooperative under the PLF and everything would've been fine. Or something. No more contrived than what we saw with the old lady plot line, MHA is just a series where that stuff works out. Heck, one time it actually did just work out that way for Tomura:

Again, violence and destruction works in MHA. I mean; duh, it's a shonen manga.

Plus all this is ignoring the fact that, unlike those two, Tomura did have a follow up to the violence. He did have a step two, or at least one & a half, after "beat down all the bad guys in the country." Rather than just going "and everything will work out from there," he had his guys plan for the future so he could say "and Spinner, Toga, and RD et. all will make sure everything works out from there." (Admittedly, not much; but also, not hopes and dreams.) He did have a plan, it was just the plan from the Overahul arc, where he was last asked to have a plan: leave it to his allies.

And hey, that means it's actually better than what we saw from genius All Might and brainiac Deku. So why are we still, even after everything was over, acting like there's some expectation as a villain he didn't meet? I guess it's just in the nature of a 'tantrum-having man-child who wants nothing but destruction' to put more forethought into the future he wants to build than the society-uplifting greatest heroes.

That or maybe everyone had really detailed follow-ups for when they won that Hori never went much into, but that'd render this post a bit pointless so shhh.

[guwix]

Is Caine human or is it AI?

I've seen people bring up this topic more than once. Also, Gooseworx replied to people that Caine is AI. Therefore, I want to sort everything out on the shelf, what we currently have.

Pilot

Caine was demonstrated to us with human emotions, which is completely indistinguishable from the NPCs themselves (Candy Carrier Chaos!). And if we take the real existing facts about AI, it is because AI does not know how to: feel, experience emotions, understand the meaning of text and images, be aware of itself.

Let's take the same Moon, Sun and of course Bobble.

They have a completely different level compared to Caine.

Even if he created them, if he cannot understand the empathy of people, then why does it make it difficult to understand other characters "created by him". For example, Bobble, he doesn't understand his actions.

AI has many advantages, but Caine has absolutely NO control over the situation, despite the fact that he is the "creator". Why would he need a "Watch" if all the information should be in his mind?

At the same time, he tells us himself that he has many eyes, but at the same time, he was not aware of what happened to Kaufmo.

I understand that the animated series is far from real life. But, in fact, AI cannot be insane. Also, Caine cannot emotionally feel "lonely". And all this tells us the opposite, that it is completely different from AI.

If the director of "C&A" creates AI to help order in the Digital World, shouldn't the company come up with a name for the "administrator" itself? And according to Gooseworx, Caine came up with a name for himself.

It turns out that people "allowed" AI to run amok in the Digital World without fear of consequences? Strangely, Caine should have restrictions, but it looks exactly as if he is completely free.

It is not the first time that the creator answers us that Caine is not a person and he does not have the age given to him. But, isn't the fans' question a strong spoiler for the plot? If we were told "You'll have to wait and see", that would raise quite a few questions. That is, it would immediately be clear what Caine is like.

You can also recall a video where a human body is transferred to a computer. Whether this was done for the sake of the fan, or intentionally, we have only to guess.

And one person had the most interesting question. Whether he is the boss, which we were told, we will have to wait and see. If Caine is an AI, then he cannot be the boss, we would have been told that he is another AI.

2:Candy Carrier Chaos!

As an AI, he is "obliged" to know who is an NPC and who is a "human". Everything must be programmed for him. But, he doesn't know how to "distinguish" them.

Whether the situation is worth turning against him, he immediately avoids it. Although, he is not forced to run away, because for AI, he must be smart enough to come up with a sedative. But, Caine just comes up with an excuse that he needs to "drink some water." Genius.

Since NPCs do not realize that they are characters of the computer world, they think that they are alive. If Caine is also presented as a God (and God is so-so with him), then what is the probability that Caine will think that he is an AI, for the entertainment of people? After all, the main characters do not remember everything from their current life (they only partially have upbringing).

[dfortrafalgar]

Special Delivery

(Sanji x Fem!Reader- Offscreen)

Sanji reaches out to Zeff for the first time in years.

I wrote this many, many months ago now, and it was the first fic i posted anonymously on AO3. I got a few requests after it was originally posted to write a second part, which I eventually did!

You can read Part 2 here! Original AO3 link

(I figured I should let my blog breathe a little in between the really heavy and emotional Law fic im writing, and what better way to cool down than some sanji fluff <3)

A sharp squawk awoke Red-Leg Zeff from his daze. With a grumpy expression and a low grunt, he peered towards the direction of the sound.

A messenger coo was seated on the railing of the Baratie's upper deck next to where Zeff stood slouched over with his forearms leaning against the wooden support. It cocked its head to the side as if it was deconstructing Zeff's appearance before reaching into its pouch and procuring a parchment envelope. Zeff found it strange. Messenger coos only usually delivered the newspapers or the latest bounty reports, very rarely were they put in charge of personalized letters. It must have been paid off by whoever wanted this delivered.

The gruff man took the parchment from the beak of the bird and watched as it took back off into the air, leaving a few molted white feathers behind in its wake. He looked at the envelope.

All it said on the front, in very elegant handwriting, was "Captain Zeff." He flipped the paper around, revealing a wax stamp holding the opening down, which he peeled off with a calloused thumb.

Tucked neatly inside the envelope was a white piece of paper, tri-folded over itself. Zeff slipped the paper out, unfolding it to reveal the written contents of the letter. The penmanship was impeccable, and the ink was very sleek. He knew immediately it was from Sanji, not many other pirates had handwriting as good as his. He had completely lost track of how many years it had been since the curly-browed boy left with that ragtag group of pirates to sail to the Grand Line, but Zeff had every single one of his bounty posters. He'd never admit it, but they were tacked up on the wall of his sleeping quarters. Every time Sanji's bounty increased, Zeff felt pride swell in his heart.

"How are you doing, you old geezer. It's been a little too long since we've had any contact, so I thought I'd write to you just to see how you've been. You're no slouch, I'm sure you've been keeping up with the world's events over the past however-many years. Do the Marines even bother to keep sending our bounty posters to the Baratie anymore? Well, regardless, I'm sure you can read right through me. I can't deny it, I miss you, old man. I'm happier than I've ever been in my life, and such a huge part of that is thanks to you and the guys back on that old cruiser. Every recipe I try to make, I imagine you screaming in my ear and telling me that it tastes like shit. Some days I really wish I could be back there, but most of the time I'm joyful. Life has been really, really good. A few years ago, I met someone. Last year, we got married, and soon after our lives changed so drastically. She's the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on, and she's as sweet as an angel. I mean it, too. I know you'd probably think something along the lines of me playing up my affections again just because she's a pretty woman, but I mean it. You'd love her, Zeff. Living as a pirate is the most stressful thing anyone could ever do, but she makes every day worth it. The crew was discussing the possibility of returning to the East Blue a bit ago, and when we do, I'm going to introduce you to her. I've spent the last years talking all about you, how you taught me everything I know about cooking, and I can tell she's just as excited as I am to finally see you. This letter's gone on long enough and I don't want to use up all of Nami's paper.

-- Sanji"

Zeff felt a lump in the back of his throat. Sanji had grown into such a fine young man, eloquent with his words and his feelings. He knew how big of a deal it was for the boy to be so honest and open. But one thing in the letter caught him off guard. What did he mean by, "Soon after our lives changed drastically."?

Zeff peered into the envelope, where another, smaller envelope was tucked inside. He almost didn't see it. Pulling it out, he held the letter and original envelope in between his fingers while he opened the second. Sanji was thorough with his packaging, that's for sure.

Inside, there were three photographs printed on thin, matted paper. The first was of Sanji and you, the wife he wrote about in his letter, taken by someone else holding the camera. Sanji had his arm around you, holding you against him, and you had your face nuzzled into his neck. His other hand held a cigarette away from the two of you, like he was in the middle of telling a story. The two of you were smiling brighter than the sun, Sanji's eyes completely closed with the motion of laughter, and yours creased, your irises looking up towards him.

The second photo made Zeff's eyes water. A photo of you and Sanji on the deck of the Sunny, exchanging rings. Sanji was wearing a sleek navy blue tuxedo, while you were wearing a gorgeous white ballgown. For pirates, you cleaned up phenomenally. He could just make out tears in Sanji's eyes as the photo displayed you sliding a band onto his finger. A skeleton with poofy hair stood between the two of you, which Zeff found a little odd, but he chuckled at the absurdity of it all.

Zeff flipped to the last photo.

The tears that were welling in his eyes from the previous image finally slid down his cheeks in heavy, salty droplets. His lip quivered.

Sanji sat in a chair, beaming down at a bundle of cloth held gently in his arm. He was crying in this photo as well, and was reaching a finger over the top of the bundle, where a smaller hand was reaching outwards to grab onto it. A small glimpse of blonde hair could be made out from under the cloth securing the baby tightly. On the back of the film, Sanji wrote the birth date and the name of the baby.

Zeff used a sleeve to wipe his blubbering eyes. His lips quivered, but he couldn't help the smile that broke out on his face.

Was he allowed to call himself a grandfather now? He figured it was only appropriate.

[ice-cream-writes-stuff]

Mite Mischief

《What happens when two entities invite themselves to meet a vigilantes s/o..?》

[1/2]

-

Nite-Mite Ver

"AAAAHHH! Help! It's a giant.. Floating.. Tiny Nightwing?"

You slowly fall to your knees after panicking. Seeing the small fella float close to you, you shrink in on yourself shyly. Watching him float around you, analyzing you...

Meeting you was not what Dyxl expected!

You were strange... Unfamiliar, sure. Nite-Mite knew of Richard Graysons' love interests in the past comic issues or alternative storylines.

Maybe you were a new character implemented by the authors?

"SO..."

"S-so...?"

The small creature sat on the desk chair of your room. Eyeing you carefully. While you sat nervously on your bed, half-expecting to wake up. "You must be the newbie! Or, more so.. For this plot. The love-."

You notice there's a knocking on your bedroom door.

"(Y/N)? Everything okay?" Dick calls out, half-way yawning.

You immediately grab a hold of the small individual, holding him close to your chest as you look for a place to hide him.

"Yeah-! Uhm.. I.. Thought I saw a mouse?"

There was silence from the vigilante, considering your words. "That so'?"

"Mhm, yup. Yes..?" You breathe out, getting closer to the door. Thankful it was locked. The vigilante heard your movements and sighed. "Oh.. Good! W-well, I mean- that you're okay! Not the mouse part."

You laugh it off quietly, agreeing as he finally leaves your door and heads back to his room. You sigh in relief as you slowly sink back to the floor.

You lean back against the door, head banging against as you wince!

"Ouch! That's gotta' hurt.." Your eyes widen as you look down at your small visitor who sat on your lap. Chilling out as if he didn't have a single care in the world.

-

"I think you have the wrong person.." You mumble quietly under your breath. Watching Nite-Mite buzz around your room as he grins at you.

"Nope!"

"But! I'm not exactly his.. Ya' know..?" You make a gesture as your face scrunched up. The words too sour on your tounge.

"Type?"

"Yes! That!"

Dxyl laughed it off. "So what? Sure, many.. And I mean.. MANY! People have fallen for the Grayson Charm, but that doesn't mean he always reciprocates those feelings."

"Then what makes you think -" You're interrupted by the fith dimensional imp. "There's just something un-canny about you. Your presence is there, but no romantic tension? I mean, seriously!"

Nite-Mite snaps his fingers as he shows a built-in board of notes, strings, and photos. Pointing at them as he tries to connect it all together.

You slowly smile, easing into this odd situation. Smiling as he holds up a issue of... Nightwing? Watching him ramble and point to the board, it reminded you of Dick. Who probably fell back asleep, hopefully.

Poof~!

Blinking, your clothes felt heavier as you look down. Dressed in old fashionable garb?! What!

"Though I'm sure whoever Dick chooses is up to him, it's fun to see other routes!"

Nite-Mite had become... Nightwing?

Instead of the usual skin-tight latex suit, the outfit showcased half of his bare-chest as the blue pants and brown boots reminded you of...

"P-pirate?" You laugh a bit, awkward and frazzled by these turn of events.

"Well.. -" Interrupted once again, the door rips open as a handsome young man storms in, his small puppy barked excitedly as she followed close behind. Yet stopped beside Dicks legs, blinking in confusion.

You immediately squeak in suprise. Your face a warm shade of color, too embarrassed to deal with all of these shenanigans so early!

-

[Ta-Da! Hey! Who wants an April fools event?? Also! Thank you for reading, I love Nite-Mite and the art for pirate nightwing. I need more content for both of them.. Please! Tag me if you do! Hopefully I can write a Bat-Mite Ver next! Comments and hearts are appreciated!]

[guillotine-drop]

Rating POSTAL Dudes by how good they smell:

POSTAL - 9/10: I think his habitual reclusion and distrust of the world would probably mean he’s showering constantly, moreso than any other Dude, especially if he thinks there’s a ‘Hate Plague’ going on. I think he smells basic; very simple routine, just enough to make sure he feels clean, so at most he’ll smell like some generic 3-in-1 body wash and shampoo/conditioner, maybe something slightly nicer just for himself (some decent $15 aftershave for that menthol scent and cooling relief).

POSTAL Redux - 3/10: Exact opposite of his original incarnation, this greasy son of a bitch isn’t scared of shit he just wants to throw explosives at ostriches and parades. Barely showers, constantly stinks of stale sweat, old blood, cheap leather and cheaper cologne, punctuated with the scent of burnt gunpowder. Borderline noxious.

POSTAL 2 - 4/10: Smells just as bad as Redux Dude but gets the edge here because every now and then he goes outside and uses the neighbor’s hose to blast himself. Shockingly uses deodorant, still not enough to be perpetually leather and denim clad in the great state of Arizona. Almost constantly reeks of sweat and has the recognizable yet faint scent of stale piss wafting off of him, accompanied by the scent of even staler crack and pungent fast food. Almost pungent enough to drown the rest out. Almost.

POSTAL 3 - 2/10: If you were to raid the wash cart after a double overtime football game, steal every jockstrap in the place, wring the sweat into a bucket, and then bring it all to a boil, you’d have somewhere in the realm of what a clean P3 Dude smells like. On average, however, this man has managed to combine the overwhelming sensory nightmares of cat piss and cheap spray deodorant into an almost lethal concoction, ONLY made breathable by the strange and overpowering smell of gasoline that seems to seep from his pores. Approach with caution and for the love of god: do not bring bleach or matches near this freak.

POSTAL 4: No Regerts - 5/10: Despite looking like he crawled out of a dumpster after a bad divorce or a fantastic honeymoon, P4 Dude is shockingly passable in terms of being able to stand next to him for a prolonged period without gagging or killing him. Having learned the efficacy of not being encased in leather in the desert, he’s managed to bring his pungency down several notches. Still reeks of sweat most of the time, and the smell of burger grease and pepperoni follows him like a specter of death, but the piss scent stopped clinging on as hard. He’s also upgraded from hose showers with no supplies to sink baths with tiny gas station travel soaps. It’s an improvement, trust me.

Brain Damaged - 2/10: Take a look at his living space in the title screen, then watch the game’s cutscenes. Just soak it all in. Now that you’ve done that, you can understand that his rank ass smells exactly as bad as you might think it does. If it can come out of his body, it’s probably soaking some part of him. If you think any of the clothes on him have been washed, you’re wrong. This man smells like if someone firebombed an outhouse and pissed on it to put it out. The best thing for him would be getting blasted with a firehouse and a box of laundry detergent. Please.

The Other Dude - 1-10/10: Entirely depends on how the BD Dude would imagine he smells depending on the situation.

POOSTALL Dude - 6/10: Despite the name, this one actually smells pretty decent. The clearly larger coat with the rolled sleeves implies some level of understanding about how not to smell like swamp ass and sweat soaked leather, and truthfully, he looks like he bathes semi-regularly, a rarity amongst these guys.

POSTAL Doe - 9/10: I admit fully and entirely to my lack of impartiality to this one, but I’m willing to stand by it even if I lose my Stink Judge License: first of all, sleeveless leather trench coat AND a crop top mean less overheat which means less sweat. Second of all, visually cleaner than pretty much any of the dudes which implies some kind of self care regimen. Third, and most importantly, girlstink counts positive. I will not be turning in my badge or my gun.

Movie Dude - 8/10: This may be controversial, but despite the squalor he lives in and the fact that hems a cuckold and that his life sucks and that he can’t get a job and that he’s a loser- I digress. I think Movie Dude is in the top echelons of Dude Stink solely because I think he’d have a breakdown if he smelled bad. This man uses Dr. Teals. He stinks like a mix of eucalyptus and peppermint. If ever there was a Dude who had a skin routine, he still wouldn’t, but he’d definitely think about it one day. I think by the end he gets an extra point just because he gets a little hotter the more deranged he is. Overall very pleasant but I still wouldn’t give him $4.

John Murray - 2/10: Hasselridge seems to have a very… interesting relationship with what is and isn’t normal, so unsurprisingly, Johnny Boy would probably smell pretty rough. Considering how dingy, run down and shitty everything in that town appears to be, I can’t imagine anyone else is smelling like roses either. Just avoid the entire place, not least of all because of the zombie thing.

Shtopor - 0/10: Bad.

Nottem Portant - 5/10: Despite the misanthropy, dollar store Nathan Explosion thing and the absolutely abysmal gameplay, Mr. Hatred is actually extremely middle of the road on stink. Sure, he doesn’t smell great, but shockingly he washes his ass despite the whole ‘death to humanity’ thing. He does get point deduction for not washing his hair though, grease mop motherfucker.

[pianokantzart]

Seeing @keakruiser making AUs in a bullet point storytelling format inspired me to take a crack at my own AU that I've been thinking about for a bit. What would happen if, in The Super Mario Bros. Movie, after Mario and Luigi are separated, Mario was the one who ended up in the clutches of Luigi’s eventual arch nemesis, while Luigi teamed up with some of his own close allies to go rescue him? Essentially The Super Mario Bros Movie, but with the brothers' roles reversed. So, without further ado...

The Super Mario Bros. Redux (Pt. 1)

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 ________

The beginning is much the same as it was in the original Super Mario Bros. Movie until they are separated in the warp pipe, with two exceptions: 1. When their van breaks down, Luigi's first instinct is to take the tool kit and try to fix the motor (mechanic Luigi, my beloved). But before he can get a good look, Mario insists that there's not enough time, and heads to the job on foot. Luigi closes the hood of the van and follows him. 2. After Mario leaves the dinner table, the focus goes to Luigi's conversation with his dad rather than Mario holed up in his room.

"What did I say?" "''You're bringing your brother down with you'?" Luigi asks, finally able to get a word in now that his uncles have shut up. "Why would you say that?" "Luigi, be honest. How much did that commercial cost? How many new clients has it gotten you? Huh?" "It's only been a day! And Mario'll figure something out. He always does." Luigi insists, taking his brother's plate of pasta and picking it free of mushrooms. "I just want to help him out along the way."

Pio sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "You can't hide in your brother's shadow your entire life, Luigi. One of these days you're gonna have to man up and start making your own decisions." Luigi doesn't answer, he simply finishes removing the mushrooms from Mario's plate, and gets up from the table to deliver the food to his despondent brother.

After Mario and Luigi attempt to save Brooklyn, after they end up in the warp zone, and after they are ripped from each-other's grasp, Mario is dragged into an unsettling looking pipe surrounded by purple smoke and overgrown with gnarled branches.

Luigi flies onward, emerging from a pipe inside what looks to be another sewer, not too different from the one back in New York. No sooner does he regain his senses does he find himself dragged away by a powerful blast of suction. Flying backwards through the air, he stops suddenly as his back clogs the nozzle of a strange vacuum-like contraption being carried by a little old man.

"Oops! Sorry, Sonny! I thought for certain you were gonna be a ghost!" the old man apologizes, releasing Luigi from the vacuum's suction with a flip of a switch. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small device that loosely resembles a hand-held vidoegame console, reexamining the numbers flashing on the screen. "When my readings showed that pipe 983 had suddenly reactivated, I thought for sure King Boo was trying to use it to send his band of ghosts to Sarasaland!"

Before Luigi could ask one of the thousands of questions on his mind, the old man introduces himself: Professor Elvin Gadd (E. Gadd for short.)

Luigi introduces himself in return, then asks about his brother. He tells the professor about their situation in detail, describing the warp pipe that Mario had disappeared into.

E. Gadd tsks sadly and shakes his head. He explains that particular pipe leads to "Evershade Valley," and though the valley used to be perfectly habitable, ever since King Boo shattered The Dark Moon nobody who has set foot in that land has ever returned.

"Wait, what do you mean? Who's King Boo?" Luigi asks "Well! You truly are out of the loop!" E-Gadd chuckles, "Then again... I remember how little I knew when I first arrived in this world." He continues to talk while leading Luigi through the underground, casually clearing a path for them with the powerful blowing and sucking functions of the vacuum. "King Boo is nothing less than the lord of ghosts! He is the master of illusions, the reigning tyrant of the undead, the loather of all living flesh, and– at the moment– the sole ruler of Evershade Valley."

This description unsettles Luigi. He retorts that if that's the case, he has to get to Evershade Valley as soon as possible. As frightened as he is, he's never been so frightened that he couldn't help his brother out of a tough spot, and he knows Mario would do the same for him in a heartbeat.

"Well! In that case I suggest you stick with me for a bit. And keep those tools with you." The old scientist gestures toward the tool bag Luigi had dropped on the ground in the mayhem, "I may have a few uses for them."

Just as Luigi comes to the question of where they are currently, Professor E. Gadd opens a sewer cover and leads him out into the middle of a big bustling coastal city in Sarasaland. Think the Daisy Circuit from Mario Kart, but way larger and more crowded (and missing the romantic statue of course.)

Luigi struggles to keep up with the elderly scientist, who weaves his way effortlessly through throngs of turtle men, snake monsters, insect soldiers, giant sentient heads made out of stone, and a vast array of other strange and fascinating pedestrians.

"Stop your dilly-dallying, youngster!" E. Gadd eventually calls, getting fed up with Luigi's slow, bewildered pace, "I've got a meeting in The Birabuto Kingdom, and my train– our train– leaves in fifteen minutes!" "Birabuto Kingdom?" Luigi asks, allowing himself to be shoved along, "What's that? What about Evershade Valley?" "So impatient! Do you think I'd send you into such a place unprepared??? No no, first I'm going to perfect my equipment, then I'll help you find your brother."

E. Gadd purchases their tickets and they board the crowded 64 Express. Once seated, Luigi's eyes are immediately drawn toward the window. He stares out, deep in anxious thought as the train chugs along, traveling from the coastal city into a desert landscape.

Then, we switch over to Mario. Standing up and dusting himself off, he looks around to find himself in the gloomiest place he'd ever seen... for the little he is able to see. There is a thick purple mist hanging in the air, and the path before him is shrouded in the branches of a forest long dead.

Loudly calling out his brother's name on the off-chance he was somewhere nearby, Mario follows a light in the distance until he stumbles across a lone boo. More confused than frightened, and feeling a little sorry for the white specter shyly covering its face, Mario bends down for a moment to examine it, assuring "hey, don't worry! I won't hurt you, I'm just a little lost is all."

Suddenly, he is ambushed by a colorful trio of ghosts: a greenie, a slammer, and a hider. He tries to fight back, but every time he attempts to shove them off or swing his fists he phases right through them.

His attackers knock him around a bit until Mario succeeds in slipping away. Now in a panic, he continues rushing toward the distant light, far faster and more recklessly than before.

Eventually, he gets close enough to discover the glow was coming from the lit windows of an old mansion. He enters and – for the little good it will do – shuts the door behind him.

He wanders the halls for a long time, roaming from room to empty room, all the while haunted by the shadow of something following him. Something big.

At last, he reaches a towering portrait room. Unlike the rest of the mansion it is teeming with life, full of frightened faces pressed against picture frames, begging for help.

Mario is frozen in a moment of fear and confusion, but quickly snaps out of it. He rushes to the nearest portrait– an image of a strange little mushroom man– to ask what is wrong and what he can do.

Before the toad can give a coherent answer, the eerie presence that Mario had felt when he first entered the mansion casts a looming shadow over him.

He turns around and raises his fists in helpless hopes of defending himself. The candles of the surrounding sconces go out all at once, and in the pitch black darkness a cacophony of cackles fills the air....

[milliesfishes]

Hi was listening to special death and I CANNOT stop thinking of billy with an x witch reader please 🥺🥺🥺

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚𝓢𝓹𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓫𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

[fem reader] contains: talk of witchcraft, trauma pairing: billy the kid x fem reader summary: witch reader x billy the kid author’s note: anon, this has been on my mind forever since you sent it I hope you enjoy! Open to doing a part 2 btw let me know <3 Pinterest Board Spotify Playlist

Billy had always taken a liking to those on the outcast side of society.

Since he himself fell into that category, he paid special attention to the ones those with exorbitant amounts of money declared misfits. They were a curious subject to him since he often discovered them not to be what everyone declared.

When there were whisperings of a new face in town, one passerby pronounced as strange, his attention was piqued. Billy wasn't a gossip by any means, but he leaned in a little whenever he heard someone talking about said soul.

"She's very odd," one woman said as she examined a bushel of apples, not bothering to quiet her tone. "Moved into a little cottage over the glen and hasn't spoken to anyone yet."

"I saw her one morning," her companion said, nodding along. "Out in the hills shamelessly, shoulders uncovered, gathering plants. I'm so glad she hasn't come into town. Although it'd give us a good laugh, I suppose."

Billy stopped listening after that, their facts trickling into fiction. He was used to the way women in the marketplace spoke about each other, and usually he paid them no mind. But this was interesting. Most folks didn't move to this little corner of the world, willingly or not.

As the weeks passed, the whispers about the new woman in town grew louder. When he heard a few men in the saloon talking about her, his interest was really captured. Usually, the only thing they talked about was work or the game at hand. Now the only topic on their tongues was the woman with long hair who did strange things in the woods.

"She's a witch," one older man said earnestly, setting his hand down. "Ain't never seen anythin' like it. Someone oughtta drive 'er out before she curses us all."

"Nah, she won't hurt anyone," another man chortled. "Saw 'er myself the other morning. Timid little thing. The second she saw me she bolted. Doubt we'll hear from her much."

"Gives our wives somethin' new to talk about," the cowboy across from him said, tossing a few coins into the pot. "Good thing too. I was sick of hearin' 'bout who's doin' what at the inn."

A witch? That was a new one. Billy had been told tales of spellcasters both good and evil in his mother's Irish fairy tales, but he'd never heard of one existing. It was a far-fetched notion. One he was keen to discover the truth of. One he didn't know he would stumble upon.

The morning was was misty and cloudy, the sun barely risen over the hills. He hummed to himself as he guided his horse to a forest-y part of the hills. Now was the best time to be out. The world was quiet, the chatter of everything quieted by a required action of unconsciousness.

He peered through the thick branches, dismounting and tying his horse when he saw something moving. There was a little clearing nearby, and he wondered if a deer had wandered in to graze.

But when he got closer, he realized the presence was human. He could make out long hair and a white dress between the leaves. Then when he pushed willow leaves aside, he finally saw you clearly.

Graceful and lithe, you pushed your hair aside as you gathered a purple flower from a bush he recognized as lavender. The thin strap of your dress fell off your shoulder, and he found himself staring at the expanse of skin exposed. As you bent over, he could see the tops of your breasts, a single pendant on a ribbon tucked between them.

Instantly he knew you were the woman everyone was talking about. When they said witch he'd pictured an old crone with gray hair and time worn skin. But here you were, youthful and smooth and lovely.

The way you moved was mesmerizing. There was an air about you that made it impossible to look away. It was more than being attracted; Billy had certainly felt that before. This was something different. This was being drawn like a magnet, being helpless to the pull of your gravity. And you were in your own world, unaware of him, of anything at all.

He watched, captivated, as you tied your lavender with a ribbon, sticking it into a little bag so the purple poked out. Now you were climbing a tree expertly, crawling across a branch that hung over a tall patch of wild roses.

Cocking his head, Billy observed you turn upside down, still hanging from the branch like a sloth. Your hair fell like a curtain he longed to part. You stretched your neck to see below you, squinting a bit. Positioned right over the middle of the large patch, he was confused at what exactly you were doing.

Then in an instant you let go.

Billy's hand stretched out as if he could reach you from where he was standing. His jaw dropped, eyes wider than saucers as he watched you fall like a ragdoll into the mess of brambles and blooms.

He jumped into action, running before he knew what he was doing. Thorns gnawed at him when he pushed through the stems in an attempt to get to you. The result was sharp bouts of pain that made him wince, and he had to stop halfway there, grunting and touching the scratches on his face and arms. His fingers came back bloody.

There was a rustling sound, and your head popped up, eyes wide, plants coming up to your shoulders. With a furrowed brow, you called, "Are you okay?"

Oh, your voice was musical. A song he wished he could sing, a song that wouldn't sound as lovely unless it was coming from your mouth. He managed a half smile. "Ah...little tangled up."

You were moving closer with worried eyes. "Did you fall in?"

"N-no," he managed, disarmed as you came near. Being close to you was like drinking too much whiskey- it sent his head into a buzz. "But you did."

Pausing, your lips parted in realization. Now you knew what he had been trying to do. "I see."

"But you're-" Now you were reaching out a smooth hand, touching his face and turning it to the side so you could presumably see the battle scars from the sharp vines. The feel of your touch cut him off for a moment. He could see your eyes more clearly, and there was a spark in them he couldn't place. Maybe if you stood like this forever, he'd spend an equal amount of time drowning in them.

As you studied him, he studied you. Despite the fact you'd fallen right into the roses, there wasn't a single scratch on you. You were utterly untouched. He opened his mouth to ask, but you frowned, turning his cheek to the side. You took off his hat, so the shadow of the brim didn't disturb your view.

Clicking your tongue regretfully, you looked at him apologetically. "Come with me. I'll get you something for all these..." you gestured at the mess of his bodily afflictions.

Billy didn't think he'd ever be able to say no to you. He merely nodded as you put his hat back on his head, moving elegantly through the bush. The thorns slid over your skin like it was made of glass. He followed you, wincing as the same plants re-scratched him.

Once you were both out, he noticed you were holding a bunch of the wild roses, tied with a ribbon just like the lavender had been. You shoved it into your bag, picking it up and smiling a little at him. "C'mon. I can help you if you want."

A little wistfully, he nodded, looking back behind him. "My horse-"

Like clockwork, his horse appeared from the thicket from where he'd left it. Billy shook his head, sure he was seeing things. You didn't seem surprised by it, however, merely reaching out to the creature.

"Be careful, he-" Billy's warning was lost as he saw his normally finnicky horse nuzzle against your hand. He was baffled.

You handed him the reins. "I don't live very far away."

Powerless to stop your draw, he followed you.

You were quiet on the short journey, facing forward. The sun was higher now in the sky, and it illuminated you beautifully. He had a feeling any element would suit you. Practically one of the earth's daughters, you glowed here as if you were born directly to it.

The cottage in which you resided was simple, surrounded by wildflowers. Vines crept up the walls, kissing the roof. It was quaint and charming, just like you.

He tied his horse at the fence, and you produced a carrot from your bag, feeding it to the animal before leading Billy inside.

The walls were lined with shelves of old books. There were vases of flowers on every surface, but they weren't filled with water as expected. Instead, mounds of little shells held them in place. He could see jars full of herbs and liquids, lit candles lighting the space. You set your bag down on a table in the center, beckoning him to sit.

He did, watching you flit around the room, reading the labels on jars until you found the perfect one, popping the cork and peering inside. Nodding once, you came back over to him. "Here-" you removed his hat once again and dipped your fingers in the jarred substance, dabbing it where the thorn scratches must be.

The paste wasn't unpleasant smelling, and he liked that you were so close. Billy could see clearly your silky hair and smooth body. He wanted to run his fingers over it, see if it was as soft as it looked.

You knelt at his side, rolling up the sleeve of his right arm to put substance over the wounds there too. He smiled at the sight. "Are you a healer?" He didn't know if witch was the correct term.

Looking up at him, you offered him a little tilt upward of your lips. "Is that what they say in town about me?"

"Well..." he squinted as he thought. "Not exactly."

"I figured," you resumed your task, and he enjoyed the feel of your fingers on his skin. "For what it's worth, I do not wish to hurt anyone."

With your kind eyes and seemingly gentle demeanor, he hadn't thought you would. He told you so. Now your smile was wider. "That's nice of you to say. It seems I'm a danger to everybody else."

He shook his head. "You're helpin' me."

You looked up at him with doe eyes, and his heart fluttered. "Do you know what I am?"

Billy was lost in the universe of your eyes for a second. He thought of the way you'd glided through the thorns, retaining nary a remnant. The way you seemed to have such a way about you that was nearly magical. His tone was light when he guessed. "You're a witch?"

Your eyes were unchanging, when he half expected a rain of fire to engulf him. "It's funny. I've had that term lobbed at me in anger a thousand times. But you say it so casually. You say it the way I do."

"My mama used to tell me stories about witches," he nodded, noticing with awe that his scratches were fading into his skin as if he'd never been grazed. "Not all of 'em were bad."

Tilting your head, your smile grew. "She was right about that. It's just like people. Not everyone is fully good or evil. But majority rules."

The way you spoke was so lilted. He could listen for hours. "And you're good."

"I hope so," you said, and he caught a hint of melancholy in your eyes. But you shook it off as quickly as it appeared, rolling his other sleeve up and leaning over his slightly parted knees to put your salve on that arm.

"Did ya live near here before?" he asked, eager for information about you.

You resumed dabbing. "No. I used to live by the ocean."

He caught sight of the shells in the vases again. "'S far from here."

"It is." Standing up, you examined his face again, soft fingers gracing his jaw and positioning his head to the side. Tracing his jawline, you examined the area, fingers ghosting his stubble. "I miss it a lot. It was very beautiful."

"I can imagine," he nodded lightly, careful to keep his head in place. "And have ya always...ah...practiced witchcraft?"

A little giggle escaped your lips at his hesitation. "You can say it. It's okay." Then you shook your head. "No. Not always. But I was in a bad way and a different witch took me in. She healed me. And in exchange she spellbound me."

"Spellbound?" Billy felt like he was pressing for information, but he couldn't help it. You were so fascinating to him.

You either didn't see it that way or didn't mind. "Very few witches are born. They're nearly always spellbound." Now your fingers were in his hair, pushing it back to check for any more injuries. It felt wonderful, and he slightly leaned into your touch. Delicately, you sat on his knee, leaning in to check closer. You smelled like lavender. His hand twitched, wanting to rest on your waist, but he resisted.

"When a witch finds a successor, she gives her powers to someone else," you explained, eyes roving over his face. "Then that someone else is spellbound. They take up the burden of witchcraft and practice it to keep the magic alive until they find their successor. Usually when someone is spellbound, they've been an apprentice to that witch for a while. But she was getting older, and she hadn't found anyone and..." you trailed off, looking away. "It was easier to trade favors."

"There's no way to get out of it otherwise?" Billy questioned, searching your eyes.

"It's dangerous," you confessed. "That's when you give the power back to the earth, where it came from. I've looked into it. But in order for the current vessel of power to remain living afterward, the powers have to be more good than evil. And since they're passed down so many generations, and the vessel often doesn't know by who..."

"You can never know how much good there really was," Billy finished, guessing at it. You nodded, and a spark of pride lit in him.

"It's safer to give them to someone else," you concluded. "I haven't found anyone yet. The last town ousted me out before I could. And by the looks of things, I'm not sure I'll find anyone here either."

Billy could feel the deep sorrow in you like a tangible thing. He wanted to ask you more about it, about what had happened for the other witch to find you, about what exactly you did with your possessed power.

Instead, he reached up tentatively, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. "You don't want the burden?"

"It's a heavy thing to carry," you said softly, and it tugged at his heart.

"'F course," he whispered, looking between your eyes. His fingers were still on your face. He couldn't resist drawing a line from your cheek to your chin. You let him, staring into his eyes.

"You're beautiful." Billy said it like a prayer.

"That'll be the magic," you half smiled.

He shook his head, thumb tilting your chin up. "No. It's you."

Before he knew it, he was leaning in, lips ghosting yours, almost like a question. And you responded, hands sliding over his shoulders, leaning into him. Your breasts were pressed against his chest, and the sensation sent him reeling.

You were nothing short of enchanting.

Lips moving, he could feel the magic running through your veins. There was something electric in your touch, something about you that made him need you like water. It was like there was an ocean roaring inside you that he wanted to drown in.

His fingers grasped the ribbon around your neck, finding the pendant between your breasts and grasping it, using it to gently pull you closer. The ribbon untied, and fell from your neck.

Lips separating, you drew back, leaning your forehead to press against his. "Is this how you treat everyone who heals you?"

Billy was drunk off you, and he wanted another hit. "No." He chased your lips, catching them in another searing kiss. Splaying his fingers on your back, he found a fistful of your dress.

You let him kiss you lazily for a moment, lips dragging down to your neck, then your collarbone. Oh how he loved your collarbone. Nosing against it, he showered a series of soft kisses there.

Then he felt something brush against his leg. Pulling back, he looked down to find a black cat purring as it pawed at his shin. You followed his eyes, smiling slightly. "Sorry...that's Fish. He likes people."

Keeping the hand holding your pendant around your waist, Billy reached the other hand down and scratched Fish's head. "'S alright. Seems like a good fella'."

He could feel you watching him interact with the cat, and you didn't sway your eyes when he lifted his own to meet them. Smiling, he leaned in, pecking your lips once, then twice. That made you smile in turn, and you nudged your nose against him, hands on the sides of his face.

Noticing he was holding your pendant, you uncurled his fingers, tracing the shape of it against his palm. It was an oval, framed by gold. There were three little stars in the center, and you touched each one before folding his fingers over it again. "Keep it."

Billy looked up at you again. "You-?"

Both your hands came to clasp around his. "It's a witch's symbol. How we know each other. But I've been here for weeks and haven't found anybody. And I'm not going to find a successor. Keep it."

He wanted to protest the hopelessness of the statement, your resignation to the fact that you'd be weighed under your powers forever. But you seemed determined.

So, he intertwined your fingers, the pendant pressing between palms. Then he lifted them to his lips, kissing your knuckles. A promise to keep it safe.

Billy kissed your nose, and then breathed, "D'ya feel it?" The pulsing hypnotism that overwhelmed him whenever he looked at you, that sensation that he knew wasn't just the magic residing within you.

You traced runes into the skin of his cheek, pressing your lips there when you were done. "I feel it. This is real power."

Next part

[totallynotokguys]

Lego Monkie Kid Rewatch: Season 3

Episode 9, The King, the Prince, the Shadow Part 2/2

"Does anyone else feel like-" "We've been here before? Yeah. Its weird, right? But- I ah- know I haven't." "Me neither. And yet this place feels so familiar." "Nah. Not me, man. This is all new to me."

Remember when I said that a lot of characters keep wrongly comparing MK to Wukong, like MK is supposed to be the next Wukong. Well…. that wasn't just at the characters. That was at us the fans too. Up until this season, I too just thought of MK as the next Monkey King. It just felt right. Pigsy was Zhu Bajie, Tang Tang Sanzang, Mei as Ao Lie, and Sandy as Sha Wujing. Simplistically, I assumed MK was supposed to be this new version's Monkey King. But he's not. He's not like the rest. He's not part of their story- at least he wasn't supposed to be.

MK was never meant to be here... to experience this, or them. And this season is when the show really starts opening our eyes to it.

(Also… I think this proves pretty definitively that Sandy is not the still alive Sha Wujing. With his flashback in To Catch a Leaf, I was so sure. I mean, look at those old looking weaponry?!)

(But unless Sha Wujing has amnesia that conveniently lets him forget the Samadhi Fire incident, than he really is just the reincarnation instead of the original.)

"It is on brand for you to have a worse version of everyone elses powers."

Ouch. Also… is this a hint at Macaque having been a clone of Wukong once upon a time? Like, in Shadow Play, Macaque chooses to feature a lot of Wukong and his clones for some reason, especially when speaking of the Warrior and Hero being a team. Strangely, some of those clones look an awful lot like Macaque.

Or could this be a hint at season 5 where its revealed Macaque's shadow powers are more like certain other being who shall not be named for sake of spoilers?

Loud Annoying Wukong: "What? You got what you wanted, didn't you? Not going to gloat, monologue a little bit before scurrying off to your master?"

Inner Panicking Wukong: "Ah drat! He's totally gonna know those are fake. Quick! I gotta distract him into wasting more time!"

"Wukong!"

I'm pretty sure that's Ne Zha's favourite word. He says it almost every second. Might even be his catch phrase.

"Oh, so the piece of paper just magically made a bunch of light!" "That's exactly what happened and you know it!"

Ah, I love these two.

"Stop! If you hurt that kid I'll-" "What. Make things worse for MK?"

Like I said last time, bad hero, good mentor. He cares about MK more than anything else right now. This same kind of protective passion has happened before, back in the Journey to the West. Wukong is good at devoting himself to one person, and tolerating everyone else for the sake of that person.

"Glowy mystic symbol thingies are always never good!"

Proceeds to touch said glowy mystic symbol thingies.

AWWWW! Tang trying to protect Mei!

I love the majority of the adults in this show. They do their best to help the kiddos and protect them, even when those kiddo's are typically more powerful than them. Tang, Pigsy, and Sandy understand that young one's always need to be cared for.

THIS SHOT THIS SHOT THIS SHOT!

I totally missed this shot the first time around! OH MY GOSHNESS SANDY I LOvE YOU!

Once again Macaque forgets about Mei.

I'm starting to see why she and Macaque were put in a team together in season 4. She is, strangely enough, his blind spot.

And once again I am shaking my head at the way the show treated Macaque's supposed redemption arc. Look at the way he's treating her, the way he's treating them all! The fear and pain he causes them!

Bashes MK repeatedly into the ground until he is unconscious.

Threatens Mei's life while holding her by the throat.

Forces the parental figures to watch their kids get ruined.

Forces Tang to choose the life of his friends over the sake of the world.

The trauma this guy is causing them- and they just never bring it up? Mei should have held the largest grudge Katara style until Macaque made it up to her! Tang should be absolutely afraid to go near Macaque after the moral trauma the simian caused him. Pigsy should throw a spoon at him every time he darkens his door way with all his ping pong master might. Sandy should constantly keep Macaque between himself and the kids as a protective barrier everytime the shadow comes around.

Until Macaque makes it up to them, apologizes and tries to do right by them all... they should have continued to treat him with fear, anger, and wariness.

"But he was under LBD control' you say. 'He had no choice."

No he wasn't. This threatening, this danger he puts them in? That was for his own gain. Macaque wanted the Samadhi Fire to escape LBD. He was in control of his actions here. He was going to take the power needed to break her control over him and then dip, leaving the mortals to parish under LDB's rule. Sure, he was probably in pain and obviously scared for his life- but that doesn't excuse the choices he made and the trauma he caused.

It's like Macaque said last episode. You have to look out for yourself, no one else.

[ssinnerplazahotel]

╭──────────.★..─╮

*Chapter Nine*

╰─..★.──────────╯

WC: 8k

Warning: 18+, age gap, smut, fluff, toxic elvis, manipulation, drug use, it’s the 50s/60s, painful-difficult-devastating-life-changing-extraordinary love

Pairing: elvis x black reader

Disclaimer: full of inaccuracies, inaccurate timeline, inaccurate depictions of Graceland, historically inaccurate themes and items

Masterlist: Prologue, Ch. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

Time is a strange thing. It has a way of going by slowly and in a hurry all at the same time. It doesn’t wait for you or let you catch up. You discovered early on that if you focused too much on time it drifted by slowly. If you kept yourself busy and focused on other things it went by without you noticing too much. So you kept yourself as busy as possible.

Although you had plenty of money saved, you got a job within your first week of being in Atlanta. You waited tables at a small diner just a few blocks from the apartment you were renting.

It wasn’t the nicest apartment. It was above a family-owned restaurant and your landlord wasn’t the most forgiving woman in the world, but it was in the heart of the city and close enough to your job.

It wasn’t entirely without incident that you’d ended up there. When you arrived at the train station you’d decided to take the first train leaving that was going the furthest away.

Regardless, you didn’t regret the decision. It was a busy city, and you needed to be busy.

When you called Dawn that first night, from a hotel in the middle of a completely different state, she tore into for nearly thirty minutes. You were able to convince her that you were fine, and that you were doing what was necessary. You weren’t having a breakdown, you were trying to prevent one.

You didn’t expect to spend the next month searching for a place to be. That month of aimlessly wandering was unnerving, but now you were settling nicely in Georgia now.

You had left Memphis behind and you were gaining important life skills and managing your finances. It wasn’t the most ideal job, but you were able to throw yourself into your work everyday.

You were happy with the way things were going. And the more consumed you were with work and surviving, the less effort it took not to think about him.

You missed him every single day, a part of you always would. But it didn’t hurt as much anymore. The hole he left in your heart was still there, hollow but numb now.

“You got company, treasure,” Your coworker called out to you from the kitchen.

“Give me that sirloin, Chuck, I asked for it first.” You ducked your head to talk to him through the service window. “You get around like an old man.”

“You got one coming in hot,” He responded. “If you were nicer maybe you’d get your shit faster.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Looks like somebody’s lost,” Sinclair, a fellow waitress at the restaurant, said as she walked over to grab her order. You followed her gaze to the man taking a seat in your section. It wasn’t a segregated restaurant by any means, but only a certain demographic of people really ate there—this man, wearing a fancy suit and sunglasses in the middle of the night, didn’t fit into any of those boxes. “Let him know this ain’t Sterling’s.”

You laughed. “I might let him think it is for a big enough tip.”

“Speaking of big enough.” Sinclair called out to Chuck through the service window. “Where’s that sirloin?”

“Hey, next one’s mine.” You took your notepad and pen out of the front pocket of your apron. “I’m coming right back for it, Chuckles.”

“I’ll have it for you, treasure, don’t worry. I’m only one man.”

You rolled your eyes and made your way over to your section. You stopped to check on a few people before you made it to the man’s table. He wore dark shades even though it was nighttime and he kept his head down looking at the menu until you spoke.

“Hello,” You said, getting his attention before introducing yourself. “I’m going to be taking care of you tonight. What can I get started for you?”

He hesitated as he read your name from your name tag. He had an odd tone when he spoke but you couldn’t make out his expression behind the sunglasses.

“Yes.” You smiled politely, preparing to write. “What can I get started for you?”

“Well I’ll be, it is you.” He laughed. “What are you doin here?”

“I think you have me confused with someone else.” You smiled uncomfortably. “Just one of those faces~”

“Oh, no, it’s me.” He stood and removed the glasses.

“Joel?” Your stomach dropped. “Oh my god.”

Joel laughed, hugging you enthusiastically. “I haven’t seen you since you took off.”

You froze when he hugged you, uncomfortably patting his back with one hand before he pulled away. You glanced around the restaurant to see if anyone was watching, catching a few eyes before looking up at him again. “W-What are you doing here, Joel? Are you here with someone?”

“No, I’m alone.” He still looked stunned to see you.

“I-I hardly recognized you for a second,” You stammered.

“You look~ I mean~ you haven’t changed.” He laughed. “I only been out here a couple weeks or so with my parents.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, my dad opened up a repair shop just off the highway.”

“Auto repair?” You presumed.

“Yeah, he wanted me up here with ‘im. He’s got me fixin cars all day.”

“Why Atlanta?”

“I guess he thinks city folk have more car trouble,” He chuckled. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Why here?”

You shrugged. “I just found myself here. No reason really.”

“It’s a strange city,” Joel said. “I don’t think I’ve slept a wink since I been here.”

“I guess that explains the sunglasses in the middle of the night?”

“Oh, yeah, not to mention that I’m so hungover I can’t see straight.” He smiled when you laughed. “I don’t get out much but I pay the price when I do.”

“Well, sit down, I’ll bring you some coffee.” You smiled and turned to walk away before he stopped you.

“Maybe we can catch up,” He said. “You’re the only familiar face I seen since I been here.”

“I’m working right now.”

“After?”

You hesitated. “I-I don’t know…”

His face fell slightly. “That’s fine, I understand.”

You felt bad about declining the offer. He was a familiar face and he’d had a good rapport with Dawn and you would consider him an old friend, even though you rarely ever spoke. “…I’m off in the next hour. If you’re willing to wait.”

“Yeah.” He nodded with a smile. “I’m not in any rush.”

You smiled. “I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be right here,” He said, retaking his seat.

Sinclair looked at you with narrowed eyes as you walked over to the service window. “You know that man?”

“He’s an old friend,” You said, leaning down to talk to Chuck. “Give it to me, baby.”

“I got you,” He said. “Order up in five.”

“Order up now.” You walked away to pour up the coffee.

“How do you know him?” Sinclair asked as Chuck served her orders through the window.

“He knows my aunt,” You stated simply. “Why?”

“Just curious,” Sinclair said, checking her tickets. “Can’t I ask?”

“I never said you couldn’t.” You took your orders out of the window and loaded them onto a serving tray. “Thanks, Chuckles.”

“You’re welcome,” He said. “You gone in an hour?”

“I’m gone in forty-nine minutes.” You dropped your orders at your other tables before taking Joel his coffee. He ordered his food and you took the ticket back to Chuck.

The final hour of a shift was always the hardest to get through, but you managed to finish out strong. You set up the next waitron before clocking out in the back.

“See you tomorrow,” You called to Chuck and Sinclair, waving at a few coworkers on your way over to Joel’s table. He perked up a little when he saw you, closing one of the four travel pamphlets he was reading to pass the time. “You know anything about Vegas yet?”

“Not unless you’re interested in a Tropicana Holiday,” He said, holding up the brochure. “Three days, two nights.”

You smiled and sat down across from him, draping your coat over the back of your chair and sitting your purse on the ground beside you. “How’s your head?”

“Like it never happened.”

“Good.”

One of your coworkers approached your table. Her name was Monica, that was just about all you knew about her. “What can I get started for you guys?” She asked, eyeing the two of you strangely.

“Are you hungry?” Joel asked.

“I’m fine,” You insisted quickly.

“You should eat,” He argued. “It’s on me.”

“Joel, really, it’s fine.”

“I insist.”

He ordered you something off of the menu for you and Monica jotted down the order before walking away.

“You know I can’t let you pay for it,” You said when she was gone.

“Let me. Consider it a favor from an old friend.”

“I’ll pay you back.”

“I won’t let you.” He chuckled, pushing his hair out of his eyes. His blond curls still framed his face like they did when you first met him, though they were longer now—nearly dusting his shoulders. It made him look boyish even though his features were mature. “What made you leave Memphis?”

“I needed a change of scenery.” You had repeated the same lie to everyone you encountered, so much so that you were starting to believe it yourself.

“D’you still talk to Elvis at all?”

“Why would I?”

He shrugged indifferently and moved on. “I saw Dawn before I left.”

“You did?” You perked up a bit, grateful for the immediate change in subject. “How was she?”

“She was good, still workin at the house,” He said. “She’s the same old Dawn.”

Monica returned with your order and the two of you sat there talking until you finished eating. Joel was interested in hearing about the places you’d been to around the city and you were happy to tell him. You had more than enough stories to tell after being on your own for so long.

Thinking back, you weren’t sure how you’d done it. As you were recalling the memories you were also recalling how afraid and completely lost you were—fear had been the only thing you’d felt in months. You were so constantly afraid that you were used to it.

“You live near here?” Joel asked after paying the bill. “I can take you home.”

“I usually walk,” You said, grabbing your things and standing with him. “My place is just a few blocks from here.”

“I’ll walk you~”

“You don’t have to go out of your way~”

“I don’t mind, really. I want to make sure you get there alright.”

You couldn’t convince him to let you go alone, so the two of you left the restaurant together.

The entire night had been so surreal, you never expected to see anyone from Memphis again. “I can’t believe we ran into each other like this.”

“It’s funny. All these people and we still managed to bump into each other.”

You hummed in agreement. “I guess you stumbled into the right diner.”

“I guess I did.” Joel sighed. “I ain’t talked to anyone outside of my folks in a while.”

“I haven’t had time to make any friends.”

“It’s harder to make friends in the city.”

“Yeah?”

He nodded. “Back home, you step outside your house and you make all kinds of friends just from right there on your front porch.”

You laughed at that. “It was never that simple for me.”

“I’ve met some good people that way. You meet people everywhere here but you don’t know anyone.”

“So, what I’m hearing is that you hate Atlanta?”

“I don’t know…I think I’ll start to hate it less.”

After Joel dropped you off that night you didn’t see him again for a couple of weeks. You figured that you would see very little of him even though you were in the same state. However, he did show up again eventually.

“What are you here for? Another cure?”

“I’m sober as a judge.”

You laughed. “I would take your order but you just missed me. I’m off now.”

“Then I’m right on time.” He smiled. “I wanted to take a look at the old coupe deville. You were telling me about it.”

“You came to look at my car?” You asked incredulously. “It’s ten o’clock at night.”

“Time still doesn’t exist to me, I guess.” He shrugged sheepishly. “I understand if you have plans.”

“I don’t have any plans, Joel, it’s ten o’clock,” You said, making him laugh. “You don’t need an excuse to come see me, y’know?”

You meant it as a joke but Joel’s face still flushed slightly at your words. “Can I walk you home?”

“Just let me grab my stuff,” You said. “I’ll be quick.”

“You better be. It is ten o’clock, y’know?”

You cut your eye at him and walked to the back to get your things.

“Yo, treasure, that guy bothering you?”

“No, Chuck, didn’t I tell you he’s an old friend?”

Chuck scoffed and mumbled something under his breath before getting back to what he was doing.

“That white boy’s out there for you again,” Sinclair said, sauntering through the door.

“His name’s Joel,” You said.

“And what does Joel want with you?” She asked. “He’s been here three times now.”

“I think I know what he wants with her,” Chuck said, walking back out into the kitchen.

“Fuck you, Chuck.” You shrugged on your jacket and faced Sinclair. “He’s been here three times?”

“He came while I was covering your shift last week,” She said. “Speaking of, I’m gonna need you to return the favor. Wendell has a parent-teacher conference at school Friday night and Marc can’t make it.”

You nodded, distracted. “I can do Friday night.”

“It’s three to eleven, my usual.”

“I’ll make it work, don’t worry.”

Sinclair thanked you and wished you a safe trip home before getting back to her tables. You put on a smile as you met Joel, admittedly drained but not wanting to let it show.

“How was your day?” He asked, his hands shoved casually into the pockets of his acid washed jeans as you walked along the quiet sidewalk.

“Okay,” You responded. “Long.”

“I hear you,” Joel sighed.

“My coworker said you came by sometime last week,” You mentioned. “You weren’t looking for me were you?”

“I don’t know.” He smiled, embarrassed.

“Why were you looking for me?”

“I don’t~”

“You have to know. A person doesn’t just do things without knowing why.”

“I don’t know,” He said anyway, making you shoot him a glare. He laughed it off. “Maybe I wanted to see you.”

He looked away as he spoke, kicking at the loose rocks on the sidewalk.

“Is that bad?” He asked when you didn’t respond, still looking down at the sidewalk, watching the rocks as they skidded ahead each time he kicked them.

“No, I don’t think so,” You said. “Do you think it is?”

“I don’t know,” He said, laughing in realization. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to~”

“It’s fine.” You smiled.

“I was already out tryna to get away from my parents, so I figured I’d try you again today.”

“Do your parents smother you?” You asked.

“Oh yeah.” He heaved a sigh. You couldn’t tell if he was frustrated at the thought of his parents or relieved to be shifting subjects. “They always have. Mama’s terrible about it, and daddy—he does whatever she tells him to. They don’t think I can make it on my own.”

“I’m sure they do it out of love.”

“I know.” He brushed his hair out of his eyes. “Everything I do is to try and prove to them that I can take care of myself. I’m starting to think they’ll always see me as a kid.”

“You should talk to them,” You suggested. “If they love you enough they’ll hear you out and try to change.”

“You think so?”

“It’s worth the shot.”

Joel smiled. “This is why I like being around you. You always have something good to say.”

You laughed in denial. “I know how it feels to be stuck in a box and not know how to get out.”

“Your folks overbearing?” Joel asked.

“Dawn’s really my only family.”

“I remember you saying that,” He said with an apologetic expression. “It must be tough being on your own.”

“It’s okay.” You were getting used to it, you almost preferred being alone. “Y-You should really talk to your parents. I think they’ll understand how you feel.”

“I will,” He said. “I’ll tell you how it goes.”

“Already planning your next stakeout,” You pointed out humorously. “Why don’t you just wait outside of my apartment instead of at my job?”

“You’re giving great advice tonight.” He laughed along with you for a moment. “Maybe I’ll catch you on a day you’re off, and it’s not ten o’clock at night.”

“You’ll have to if you plan on telling me about your talk with your parents.” Joel laughed again as you contemplated the idea. “I’m free tomorrow.”

“I’m usually done with everything at the shop around three on Thursdays—I could just….”

“That’s fine. You know the address now, I assume.”

“Locked and loaded.” He tapped his temple. “Not because I regularly stake out your apartment or anything.”

“No, of course not.” You smiled. “It’s 3B. Don’t forget.”

“I won’t,” He said. “You should give me your number. In case I have to call and cancel.”

You narrowed your eyes jokingly, coming to a stop as you approached your apartment building. You took your pen and pad out of the front of the apron you still wore under your coat and jotted down your number and address. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Joel said, taking the ticket. “Good night.”

You smiled and turned to walk into the restaurant that led up to your apartment.

Joel waited until you were inside before walking back the way you guys came.

“Leftovers,” Your landlady called as she wiped down the tables for the night, nodding her head at the carefully packaged food. “You’re late. I almost threw them away.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Angie,” You said as you grabbed the bag. “You’re always so kind.”

She hummed, uninterested in your compliment. “Rent’s due by the end of the week, no exceptions.”

“I’m gonna have all of it,” You promised, heading for the stairs. “Tell Mr. Ben I said goodnight.”

You climbed the stairs and got into your apartment. After putting the leftovers in the fridge you didn’t have any energy left to do anything but shower and go to bed.

You dropped your tips in your savings jar and called it a night.

*

“I looked at him and I said ‘Daddy, some things are gonna hafta change around here if I’mma keep working for you. I ain’t gonna let you and mama run me around and tell me what to do like you have been. Not anymore.’ You know what he said?”

“What?”

“He said ‘get your ass over there and start rotatin them tires.’”

You laughed from where you sat on the ground piecing together a puzzle on your coffee table. Joel sat on the sofa looking down at it as you made more progress.

“So?” You asked, glancing up at him. “What’d you do?”

“I got my ass over there and started rotating them tires.” He laughed along with you. “What was I s’posed to do?”

“He probably just didn’t know how to react,” You said, picking up another piece of the puzzle and examining the incomplete picture of a swan on a lake.

“There.” Joel pointed to the missing part of the swans beak.

“At least you tried.” You put the piece in its place. “I wouldn’t know where to start if I tried to unpack things with my dad.”

“Tell me about your dad.” He moved from the sofa and sat down next to you on the floor

“There’s nothing to tell,” You said. “He left when I was little and took my brother with him.”

“Do you remember anything about him?”

“I try not to.”

You laughed but Joel’s expression remained serious. “I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t be,” You said. “It doesn’t bother me.”

“It should.” You focused on the puzzle as he spoke. “Not having both your parents ain’t easy.”

“You can’t miss what you never had.”

“Yeah, but you can long for something you should’ve.”

You met his eyes and your expression grew to match his.

“I think, even if you say there isn’t, there’s a part of you that wishes he had been there for you.”

“There isn’t.”

“It’s okay if there is~”

“There’s not, Joel.” You examined the piece in your hand, scanning the puzzle again. “I don’t have any strong feelings about the situation. It’s just something that happened.”

Joel took the puzzle piece from you and tucked it into its proper place. “He missed out on a good thing from what I can tell. It’s his loss.”

You shrugged. “I wish my brother and I would have gotten a chance to grow up together. Other than that I just…”

“Try not to think about it,” Joel finished. You nodded. “I won’t bring it up again.”

You smiled a little as he pieced together another piece of the puzzle. “Why are you actually good at this?”

“You just havta go by the colors.” He handed you another piece. “Sit back and look at the bigger picture.”

You followed his advice and leaned away from the coffee table. “Ah, I see.” You laughed, finding where the piece went immediately.

“There you go.” Joel laughed.

“I still might take you hostage and make you finish it for me.” You smiled. “I’ll never get it done on my own.”

“I’d be a willing hostage,” He said. “I like being here with you.”

You laughed again, unsure of how you should respond. “I’d make for a terrible captor.”

Joel smiled without meeting your eyes. “I don’t think so.”

“You’re a strange man, Joel,” You said. “Sometimes I wonder.”

“What do you wonder?”

“I wonder what you’re doing here.”

He looked up at you. “I like being around you.”

You nodded. “You’ve said that.”

“You want more of a reason?”

“Yes.”

He smiled again, looking off in thought as he fidgeted with the puzzle piece in his hand. “I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Try.”

“When I think of being anywhere else…I always rather be with you.”

“Why?”

“Because I like you.”

He avoided your eyes, focusing instead on where your hand rested near his on the coffee table.

“I like you too.”

“N-No, I…I like you more.”

“More?”

“I’m attracted to you.”

You fell silent. He wasn’t saying anything that you hadn’t already suspected, but you were slow to process his words.

He seemed to panic when you didn’t respond. “I don’t want that to change anything~”

“It won’t,” You reassured him. “A-And I want to spend time together when we can.”

“You do?”

“Yes. I didn’t realize how lonely I was before you came along.”

Joel’s hand brushed against yours when he shifted and you felt a rush of something between fear and panic but you didn’t pull away.

“I can always keep you company.”

“Would you?”

“If you wanted me to.” His eyes darted to your lips for less than a second before landing on your eyes.

Your voice was barely above a whisper when you spoke again. “…I want you to.”

Silence settled over the room and the air seemed to thicken as it went on. The space between the two of you gradually decreased and you both hesitated, you imagined for entirely different reasons. Joel started to pull away after sensing your hesitation but you closed the space between your lips before he could.

You broke the kiss immediately, anxiously awaiting his reaction. He shifted towards you, taking your face between both his hands and searching your eyes for any sign of skepticism before kissing you again.

Your eyes fluttered shut and your hands came to rest on his forearms. You only opened your eyes when he broke the kiss, finding his already on you.

“Will you stay?”

“If you want me to.”

“I want you to.”

*

Your relationship with Joel brought something into your life that you didn’t realize you were missing.

He was there for you when you needed him and even when you didn’t. He listened to you and he was interested in your thoughts. He didn’t expect anything from you. He was patient and he let you come to terms with your feelings on your own accord. He was your friend before he was your lover.

You felt different when you were with Joel. You didn’t feel nervous or anxious when you were around him. You weren’t afraid to tell him the truth and you never worried that he’d hurt you or find some way to punish you if you went against him. He was gentle with you, almost too gentle.

“I want you to meet my parents,” He said during one of his afternoon visits. “I told them about you.”

“You did?”

“They want to meet you,” He said. “They wanna know who’s been taking up all my time.”

You didn’t know what was so different at the time—why Joel made you feel so different. You soon came to realize that Joel’s way of loving you simply wasn’t the same as Elvis’ way of loving you.

You were there for each other when you had no one. There was a space you filled in each other’s lives that was different. Even though it took time, you grew to understand and accept that.

“You mean they want to know if I’m worth your time.” You stood at the counter sectioning Ms. Angie’s leftovers into airtight containers. You always had more than enough, so you usually took some to Sinclair whenever you had shifts together.

“No, I can tell them that,” Joel said. He stood behind you and slipped his arms around your waist. “Some things they gotta see for themselves.”

You laughed, shying away from the kiss he left on your cheek. “I don’t know how you’ll manage to make time. You work almost every day and I work every night.”

“I’ll make time,” He said. “You just hafta tell me when you’re off.”

“Fine,” You agreed. “But make it lunch, not dinner.”

“Lunch not dinner, got it.” He nodded once. “You taking that to Sinclair?”

“Yes,” You sighed. “If I eat another dumpling I might die. I don’t have the heart to turn it down.”

Joel laughed, letting you walk out of his arms. “I’ll pick you up tonight. 10:30?”

“10:30.” You put the containers into an old grocery bag and tied the handles before grabbing your keys. "I'll see you tonight.”

“I’ll see you.” He smiled, his eyes following you as you left. “I love you.”

You cut your eye over your shoulder, slowing to a stop. You walked back over and left a kiss on the corner of his mouth. “Lock up when you leave.”

Things with Joel progressed quickly after you’d acknowledged your feelings. You were apprehensive at times about letting him into your life all at once, but you were more afraid to let him go after you’d grown attached. You feared that things would change the more he got to know you and that he’d leave on his own. But with time your trust grew and your feelings became stronger; you longed for him when he was away.

He became a part of your everyday. Long after the initial attraction that brought the two of you together had started to fade you still wanted him in your life.

Eventually, after talking and thinking it over, he moved in together. You were practically inseparable so it made the most sense.

“Marry me.”

“No.”

You were genuinely happy and you couldn’t see things any other way.

“Marry me.”

“Joel.”

You had a tolerable job, a decent place to live, and a person to share your life with.

“I’m not gonna stop asking.”

“That’s called harassment.”

It felt like you were finally getting a taste of that stability that had made you envy Andrea.

“Marry me.”

“For the love of god.”

You were somewhere in your life that you never thought you’d be.

“Please?”

You couldn’t have been more content.

“Fine. I’ll marry you.”

*

“Where are you, sugar?”

“I’m here.”

You sighed and closed the book in your hands as Joel entered your shared bedroom. He smiled when he saw you, dropping his work boots by the door.

“Look at you, lookin like a regular ol housewife.” He laughed, unbuttoning the dirty flannel he was wearing.

“You know I hate when you say that,” You said with a slight roll of your eyes.

“It’s not a bad thing,” He said, walking towards you. “Not to mention you will be soon.”

“Uh, uh.” You put a hand out to stop him. “You better wash all that off before you come over here.”

“Don’t I at least get a kiss?” He asked, still inching towards you. “I ain’t seen you all day.”

“Who’s fault is that?” You tilted you head expectantly.

“It’s my fault,” He said, kneeling on the bed. “It’s all my fault.”

You laughed despite your protests, pushing him away only after he’d stolen a kiss. He went into the bathroom to turn on the shower before leaning on the doorframe. “I meant to tell you that daddy wants me to go to Charleston after work tomorrow to pick up some parts.”

“Charleston?” You asked. “It’s gonna take all day to get there and back.”

“I know, but you can come with me and we can make it a thing.”

“‘Make it a thing?’”

“Make a trip out of it.”

“I don’t like the roads around Charleston.”

“I’ll drive.”

“Sinclair and Marcus were going to come over tomorrow night.”

“I know,” He repeated with an apologetic expression. “I don’t want to, but Charleston’s got the only place we can find that has any of those new alternators. I told you about them, they’re imported. We’re gonna be able to reach a whole nother demographic if we~”

“Baby, please, don’t go on one of your car rants.” You closed your book again, abandoning it on the bed as you stood. “This is the third time I’m going to have to cancel on them. Can’t your father go on his own for once?”

“I told him I would. It’s not like I’m doin it for free, I’m gettin paid for making the trip.”

“That’s not the point.”

“It’s my job to take care of you. You know that’s why I’m doing it, so why give me shit for it everytime?”

“Because I hardly ever see you anymore. I mean it, I don’t want to live here if it means you working all hours of the day and night.”

“We’re staying here. No one bothers us here, we keep to ourselves~”

“I’ll start working again to take away some of the pressure.”

“That’s not what I want.”

“What about what I want? I want you here, with me, more often.”

“I want to be here, sweetheart, I do. I’m not tryin to prioritize anything over you…” He worried his bottom lip as spoke, rubbing his face thoughtfully.

“But?” You prompted.

“But I hafta help at the shop as much as I can. It’s getting to be just as much my responsibility as it is daddy’s,”

“What am I supposed to do? Get in line and wait my turn for your attention?”

“You have my attention, always.” He crossed the room and took your hands in his. “If it’ll make you happy I’ll tell him I can’t go tomorrow, but I have to at some point.”

“Don’t bother.” You pulled away from him and walked away. “You don’t bother telling him anything else.”

“Why are you tearing into me right now?” He asked, shocked by your comment.

“Why won’t you tell him we’re getting married?” You faced him, arms crossed.

“I’m gonna tell him and mama~”

“When?”

“I don’t know just yet. When I can..”

“I’m starting to think you’ve changed your mind.”

“I haven’t.”

“Are you ashamed of me?” You asked.

“No, god, no.” He grew more frustrated. “I know they’ll never let me hear the end of it when they find out. It’s not about you at all.”

You fell silent, looking down to hide the tears forming in your eyes.

“I could never be ashamed of you, you’re too important to me.” He continued when you didn’t respond. “I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you like I should. I’ll try harder, okay? I’m gonna tell daddy I can’t go tomorrow and we’re gonna have some fun with our friends.”

You sensed him coming closer before you felt him gently lift your chin to meet your eyes.

“Don’t cry,” He whispered. “You know I hate to see you cry.”

You swallowed. “I’m sorry.”

“Stay and read your book,” He said. “You can tell me about it when I’m done.”

You nodded, forcing a small smile. “Okay.”

He kissed your forehead and let you go. “I’ll be quick.”

“Joel.” You stopped him. “I don’t want to be kept a secret.”

“I’ll tell them.”

“Tomorrow.”

He looked undeniably conflicted but he nodded his head before silently retreating to the bathroom.

The next day, upon hearing the news, his father fired him and kicked him out of the shop. You had a feeling that Joel knew that his father would react that way and had been putting off telling him for that reason.

He tried to put on a brave face about the situation, but you could see it in his eyes that he was hurt. He had every right to be after years of putting so much into building and maintaining the business with his father.

“McNally’s been bugging me about coming to work for him at his dealership,” He said. “I’m sure the offer still stands.”

“I’m so sorry, Joel.” You felt like it was your fault. If you hadn’t pushed him to tell his parents he’d still have a relationship with them and a job he loved.

“I don’t want you thinking this is your fault,” He said. “We’re gonna be married and if mama and daddy can’t accept that, then…I don’t want them in our life.”

You leaned back against the kitchen counter and crossed your arms. You didn’t know what to do other than apologize.

“I’m gonna change and head over to talk to McNally.” He stepped in front of you and took your face in his hands. “Don’t look so troubled, we’re gonna be alright. We might be more than alright if McNally gets me in at the dealership. There’s better pay and benefits~”

“It’s not what you love to do.”

“If it means I can take care of you, I love it.”

You slipped your arms around his torso, hugging him. He hugged you back.

“It’s all gonna work out,” He promised. He pulled away first, ducking his head to kiss your lips before he walked away. “Maybe you and Sinclair can go out tonight instead. You should take your car for a drive anyway. You’ll kill that battery leaving it sitting in the driveway all the time.”

“I’ll call her.”

“Brighten up, sugar,” He laughed. “It’s gonna be okay.”

You tried to smile. “I believe you.”

Joel secured a job working at Bibby McNally’s car dealership and, while it wasn’t something he was passionate about, he made the most of it. It was a high scale dealership and they had a lot of traffic all year round so it was never a dull moment. At times you could see him becoming drained and uninterested, but he insisted that working there was good for the two of you.

He was home more often and you got to spend more time together. It was exactly what you wanted, however, you felt guilty about him losing his job and contact with his parents.

One evening after he got off of work he came barreling into the house calling out for you. You rushed to meet him in the living room.

“What happened?” You asked in alarm.

“You aren’t going to believe this,” He said with excitement behind his words. “Guess who came into the dealership today. Guess.”

“Wha~ Who?” You asked, your eyebrows drawn together in confusion.

“Elvis,” Joel said, enthusiastically. “Elvis-fucking-Presley.”

“W-What?” You tried not to let your expression grow horrified. “He did?”

“Can you believe that?” Joel walked past you in the direction of your bedroom, loosening the tie around his neck. “He came in lookin some kinda Roadrunner. I was trying to get a Pontiac off my hands and all of the sudden the lady I’m selling to screams at the top of her lungs. I turn around and there he is.”

“Did you talk to him?” You asked, following him to the room. You stopped him before he walked to the bathroom. “I’m not done.”

“I talked to him.” He sat on the edge of the bed. “He has some time off from filming, I guess.”

“Oh?” You crossed your arms to stop your hands from fidgeting.

He nodded as he slipped off his shiny dress shoes and tucked them under the foot of the bed. “He said he wanted us to come back with him to Graceland over the weekend.”

“You told him about us?” You asked.

“Yeah, he was as shocked as you could imagine.” Joel laughed. “He said he’d arrange for us to fly out tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” You asked.

“You’ve asked me a hundred questions since I walked through the door,” He said. “Tell me what you think. We should go right?”

“I-I don’t know, it’s so all of a sudden, y-y’know,” You stammered. “You have work and we’re starting a new book in my club~”

“Sweetheart.” He stood from the bed as he unbuttoned his shirt. “You’re seriously telling me that you’d pass this up to go read a book?”

“You have work.”

“I can get away for a weekend,” He said. “It could be fun. We could see Dawn while we’re there. And Cynthia—Andrea, maybe.”

“You aren’t going to let this go are you?”

“A hundred and one questions.”

You rolled your eyes.

“I’ll never ask you for anything again if you’ll just go with me tomorrow. It’ll feel like old times.”

“For you maybe.” You walked back into the bathroom.

“Finish up in there so I can shower,” He called as you shut the door. “I wanna help you cook.”

“Just a minute.” You leaned forward against the sink, looking at yourself in the mirror. For a moment you saw your old self reflected back at you. Just hearing his name made you feel small and panicky. Knowing that he was in the same state didn’t make it any easier to breathe. You hadn’t seen him since~

Let me t-try to be better. Just give me a chance, baby, please.

You closed your eyes and tried to physically shake away the sudden memory. Was it possible for a heart to stay broken for this long?

You couldn’t see him. You didn’t want to see him. You’d put him out of your mind, escaped the hold he had on you. You’d worked so hard to rebuild yourself after he’d broken you down. You were at a place in your life where you were so sure of everything, you didn’t want to see him and lose all that progress.

You were in love with Joel and the two of you were prepared to build a life together. You didn’t want Elvis’ presence to taint that in any way.

“I wonder if Sonny and Lamar’ll be there tomorrow night,” Joel continued from outside of the bathroom. “Maybe Red and Billy too.”

“I don’t know,” You responded in the steadiest tone you could muster.

“I’m sure they’ll be there,” He continued. “You remember my cousin Jerry?”

You took slow breaths and stood upright with your hands on your hips. “I’m sure they’ll all be there, Joel.”

He laughed. “Tell me you’ll go. I don’t wanna havta drag you kicking and screaming.”

You swallowed harshly as you started putting away the makeup you had strewn across the counter. “Can we come back Sunday?”

“Yeah,” He responded, delighted with your capitulation. “We can come back whenever you want.”

You took one last deep breath and put on a decent expression before leaving the bathroom. “I don’t want to be gone too long, that’s all.”

“I’ll get you back home before you can even start to miss it.” He smiled as he watched you leave the room.

“Perfect.”

You went to figure out where he’d hidden your cigarettes. You pulled open a few kitchen drawers and shuffled through them before you found the slim, silver case. Your mind raced as you used the stove to light the cigarette before turning off the burner. You hadn’t smoked since Joel insisted that you quit weeks ago, but you couldn’t think of any other way to calm your nerves. You’d start your streak over tomorrow.

When Joel finally got out of the shower, he found you standing by the window in the living room. You were on your second cigarette and so lost in thought that you hadn’t noticed him at first.

“You better put that out,” He chided, walking over. “I told you what they’ve been saying about them things.”

“Luther Terry’s fighting a losing battle,” You muttered, crushing the cigarette in the ashtray that sat on the windowsill.

“I ain’t seen you smoke a cigarette in weeks.” He stood behind you and put his arms around your waist.

“I know.”

“Something bothering you?”

“Are you still going to Virginia with Bibby?” You asked in an attempt to avoid the question.

“Yeah…” He fell silent for a moment. “It should be the last trip for a while. Once convention season’s over I’m all yours.”

You walked out of his arms. “You should wear the navy suit you wore last week. I know you lost your red tie~”

“You’re upset.” He followed you to the kitchen.

“I’m fine.” You tried to smile, forcing back all of the thoughts that were threatening to consume you. “I’ll find your tie.”

You continued taking the pots and pans down to start cooking.

“How is Bibby anyway?” You wanted to fill the silence. “The baby?”

“He’s good, the baby’s good,” Joel said. “He says Yvette’s a natural…”

You tried to listen as Joel went on about Bibby and Yvette, but you were too preoccupied–too full of dread.

After all you’d gone through, you were walking back into the belly of the beast.

*

“Don’t get me in too much trouble,” Joel said handing you your second flute of champagne. “I don’t want no misdemeanor for aiding and abetting.”

“You’re a year older than me, Joel. Don’t you think I can handle a little champagne by now?” You laughed and took the glass.

“We’ll see.” He shrugged.

“Not too much for you tonight either. You’re driving.”

“Don’t worry, baby, I’m barely buzzin.” He slipped his arm around your waist and kissed you with gin-stained lips. The two of you parted at the sound of Joel’s name being called over the music, turning your heads in the direction of the voice. He lit up when he saw who it was. You smiled as they embraced each other.

“How have you been?” Joel asked.

“Alright,” Jerry responded with an indolent shrug. “This her?”

“Yeah.” Joel smiled, slipping his arm around your waist and introducing you.

“Right.” Jerry repeated your name as if it rang a bell and you exchanged brief pleasentries. “Look, E.P. wants y’all to come up. He sent me to find you.”

You took another sip of your drink after Joel quickly accepted the invitation. You probably shouldn’t have been drinking, you were beyond queasy and the champagne wasn’t helping–not to mention that it tasted like battery acid. You finished the glass anyway, hoping that, if anything, it would calm your nerves.

“Come on, baby,” Joel said, taking the glass from you and abandoning it at the bar with his own. He took your hand in his and leaned in to speak in your ear. “You can still let me know if you change your mind while we’re up there.” You nodded, forcing a small smile before letting him lead you as he followed Jerry to the elevators. The music from the party faded behind the doors and all that remained was the gentle melody of the elevator music. “How long y’all been in Georgia?”

“Since yesterday. E heard about the dealership so he wanted to pass through.”

“How’d he hear about it?”

“I’m not too sure.”

Their voices faded to the background. All you heard was the sound of your heartbeat accelerating. After so long, you wondered if he’d be different. Your fear and panic was beginning to be replaced by other things that you didn’t want to acknowledge let alone describe. Because having to describe those feelings would’ve meant admitting they were there.

The elevator stopped on the top floor and you forced your feet to move. Jerry led you to the suite and opened the door without knocking. “I found them, E,” He said, walking in first.

His eyes met yours almost instantly. Those baby blue eyes that were so familiar yet so distanced from the ones you knew. He still had that youthful glow about him as he smiled and stood to greet the two of you. His gaze lingered on you briefly but no longer than a second. “Joel, ol boy.” His voice caused your breath to hitch. It was different somehow, deeper and richer, but so familiar. Like an old song who’s melody you’d forgotten but still knew all the words to. You could’ve been making it all up. It could’ve been that he was exactly as you'd left him but his beauty had already started to fade in your memory. “I’m glad y’all could make it.”

“Yeah, so are we.” Joel smiled and asked if he remembered you.

“Of course,” Elvis said, shifting his attention to you. He had an amused glint in his eyes as he smiled at you. “How have you been, honey?”

“Okay.” You tried to smile, breaking eye contact for a moment. “How have you been?”

“Okay,” He said, before turning to retake his seat, the people sitting at the table with him cleared the space. “Sit down here a minute and a tell me what you’ve been up to, Joel. I saw you weren’t with your dad anymore.”

“No, I haven’t been for a while,” Joel said, pulling out a chair for you. “We had some differences of opinion.”

“Help yourself to a drink if you want,” Elvis offered. “We can get whatever you prefer.”

“I’m okay,” Joel said. They each looked to you expectantly.

“I’m sorry?” You asked.

“D’you want a drink?” Elvis repeated.

“No, thank you.” You avoided his eyes.

He moved on with his conversation with Joel and you noticed a smirk gracing his features when you glanced his way. “What happened with your old man? I thought you two were close.”

“I thought we were. But my folks didn’t exactly approve when I told them we was getting married.”

“Married?” He seemed genuinely surprised. Joel must’ve not mentioned it before.

“I held off telling them. I knew they’d have something to say about it, but…”

“What’d they say?”

“Daddy fired me from the shop and I haven’t spoken to them since.”

Elvis grimaced. “Man, I’m sorry to hear that.”

Joel shrugged. “It’s a shame but I can’t change their minds about anything.”

“Well, congratulations anyway. You make an interesting pair.”

“Interesting how?”

Both their gazes turned to you when you spoke.

“Unexpected, I should say,” Elvis rephrased. “How’d you get caught up with Joel?“

“We ran into each other one day.” You tore your eyes away and looked at Joel.

“Why were you in Georgia?” Elvis asked.

“For a change of scenery. ” You opened your purse and retrieved your case of cigarettes—your nerves were getting the best of you. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” Elvis said. “You know Dawny retired?”

“She mentioned it.” You nodded.

“She’s up in her own place now,” He said. “I check on her when I can.”

“That’s nice. I wish I could visit more,” You responded.

“I wish you could too,” He uttered, picking up a lighter from the table. “Light?”

You put the slim, white cigarette between your lips and leaned toward him as he struck the lighter. You sat back in your seat after the cigarette was lit, avoiding eye contact with both him and Joel.

“So you’re sellin cars now?” Elvis asked Joel, sliding a porcelain ashtray over to you.

“Mhm.”

“How d’you like it?”

“It’s a job.”

The conversation flowed awkwardly. It was almost as if they had to actively think of every question they were going to ask—preoccupied by other things. Eventually the three of you returned to the party happening downstairs. Elvis naturally drew the attention of everyone in the room. There was something different about him that you couldn’t pinpoint exactly. Whatever it was, you couldn’t help but steal a glance whenever he wasn’t looking. He radiated a certain energy that drew you in and made you want to watch.

“What’s wrong?” Joel asked. He hadn’t left your side since you got there and upon hearing that he was going to get your things from the car you must’ve looked panicked. He took your face in his hands and searched your eyes for the answer but you smiled and tried to distract him with a kiss. He stopped you. “Tell me.”

“Nothing.” You were a terrible liar. “I’ll help you.”

“No,” He said quickly. “It’s fine. And you don’t have to stay down here, you can go up to the room if you want. They say we’re heading out sometime tonight.”

“‘Sometime tonight’ meaning…god knows when?”

“Pretty much.”He laughed before letting you go. “Head upstairs, I’ll be there in a minute.”

You watched him leave before going to find the elevator. You couldn’t breathe.

You found the room Elvis had reserved specifically for you and Joel. You were relieved to be alone in the silence, but you felt uneasy knowing that he was downstairs and he knew where you were. The hours passed and soon it was nearly three in the morning. You were exhausted but you couldn’t sleep if you tried. Joel hadn’t come up the entire night and you wanted to be angry but tried anyway to give him time to be around old friends. He was familiar with their grueling routine—you weren’t. When he did finally return you were on the brink of sleep.

“Come on, sugar, we’re heading out.”

“God, what time is it?”

“I don’t know…it’s early.”

You pushed yourself into a sitting position and eyed him suspiciously. “You’re drunk.”

He laughed but ultimately shook his head in denial. “I’m fine.”

“You left me up here all night,” You complained as you slipped your shoes on. “I couldn’t change my clothes or anything. You could’ve checked on me once.”

“Time got away,” He said, grabbing your purse and holding his hand out for you. “They’re waiting on us.”

“Can I get myself together for a minute?”

“You’re perfect, come on.”

You took his hand and let him lead you out of the room—smoothing the skirt of your dress as he dragged you along.

You leaned your head against the window the entire drive to Memphis. Elvis had offered to fly you out but Joel insisted on driving. The two of you had planned to go straight to Virginia to meet Bibby afterwards.

You passed the time by trying to keep your doom at bay.

[secfics]

my favourite starker fics, part 1

hi. for my first reclist in this blog, i put together my personal favourite starker fanfics that i re-read again and again. in no particular order and with some cw/dark themes here and there, here they come:

• maybe different, but remember; by RoamingSignals (@spider-mancan), E, 18k, 2/2 chapters

Peter is working at Delmar’s, sorting out tabloids on the rack in the front, and he sees Tony’s face plastered everywhere and then Peter is reading words and then he can’t read anything because he’s crying and his shaking hands rip the magazine in half.

Tony Stark…alive.

He saved the world, saved Peter, and Peter never even got to thank him. Not that it matters now. If Peter was a factor in Tony's decision to snap his fingers, Peter will never know. No one will ever know, because Peter fucked up and now he doesn’t exist.

• touchpoint; by RoamingSignals (@spider-mancan), M, 57’6k, 2/2 chapters

Peter lost a lot of things in Boston. When he lists them out, they fit in the margins of his napkin; his career, his degree, his motivation, his boyfriend, and himself. Not in that order. Not all by mistake.

“You’re just a secretary.” Tony tuts.

“There’s nothing wrong with being a secretary,” Peter says. “Your old secretary is the CEO of SI, these days.”

“Pepper Potts is the smartest woman I’ve ever met,” Tony agrees. “And she never let anyone call her ‘just a secretary.’”

• scaling the walls; by Starker1975 (@starker1975), E, 42’6k, 13/13 chapters

Peter is tired of crushing hopelessly on Tony, so he decides to create an online dating profile to meet someone new. Neither Peter (Webster01) or his strange beau (Mark70) have pictures on their bio. They decide to keep it that way so they can focus on bonding over things besides appearance.

Meanwhile, Tony decides to start spending more time with Peter because people always become interested as soon as you try to move on...

• fucking if; by Graceful_Starker (@graceful-starker), M, 9’7k, 2/2 chapters - cw: implied non-con, not between starker

Peter and Tony in a beginning phases relationship. Then the snap. Peter coming back to Tony, Pepper and Morgan.

• revelations; by Anonymous (#author has already arranged a ride to church trust me), E, 126’8k, 19/19 chapters

“I still don’t get it,” Ned says. “How you just... keep being ordinary in spite of all the craziness you’ve lived through. You were in space. You helped Iron Man save the universe. And nobody knows it was you.” His tone softens, becomes almost sad. As though he realizes that what he’s saying is so completely alien to him that he will never be able to understand this part of Peter’s life. “Peter, don’t you want people to know you for who you are?”

An AU where they get the Gauntlet off of Thanos that first time, on Titan.

• closer to a prayer; by LearnedFoot (@learned-foot), E, 17’4k, oneshot

“I think I’m dying.”

Peter stares at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, blinking. It feels weird to say it out loud.

In which Peter's powers turn against him, Mr. Stark is back and suddenly acting kind of weird (and by weird he means flirtatious), and it’s all a lot to handle at once.

• stuck; by Heathertastic (@heathertastic), E, 5’4k, oneshot - cw: Accidental Penetration

Tony and Peter get stuck together in a closet the size of Peter himself- and yeah, it’s basically porn without plot.

• Give Me Your Wallet (And Your Watch); by airebellah (@airebellah), M, 30’5k, 10/10 chapters

It was pushing midnight when Peter sent a text to his friend Ned asking for help with a chemistry problem. I know I'm doing something wrong but I can't figure it out, he wrote. He received a text with a picture of the solution. The elegant script should have been the first clue; the fact that it was on the back of a napkin the second. But he was tired, and failed to notice such details.

You misplaced your decimal when converting degrees to Kelvin, came the reply. Rookie mistake.

Gee, thanks, Peter replied with a roll of his eyes. Anything you need help with?

Yeah, who the fuck am I talking to, exactly?

• covet; by Anonymous (#author has already arranged a ride to church trust me), E, 33’9k, 5/5 chapters

Peter has a new boyfriend. Tony starts drinking again, for unrelated reasons.

• uranium heart; by spqr, M, 11´3k, oneshot

It’s probably better, Peter thinks, that he doesn’t know who his soulmate is. He wouldn’t want to lie to them about Spider-Man, but he doesn’t think he’d be able to tell them the truth, either. Not when he knows it would make them a target for every villain who wants a piece of him.

When he has enough free time to feel sorry for himself, he thinks about how lonely he is and how much he wants someone to talk to--just talk to. But he doesn’t really have that much free time. And anyways, there are thousands of lonely people in New York. Peter’s nothing special.

• another life; by InColor (@incolorwrites), E, 9’3k, oneshot

Tony comes back to a world where everyone's moved on without him.

Peter helps.

• secret santa, baby; by orphan_account, E, 17´3k, 5/5 chapters

Tony never intended to become Peter's Secret Santa. He just sort of stumbles into it. But now that he is, he's going to take advantage of it. Tony's got one week to spoil the kid, one week until Christmas. He just has to make sure that his secret stays secret.

• your thoughts are my desires; by Sparcina (@zsparz), E, 6’2k, 4/4 chapters

Peter doesn't know that Tony can read his thoughts.

Alternatively: Tony gets intimately acquainted with Peter's fantasies feelings.

• peter parker, sexter extraodinaire; by Sparcina (@zsparz), E, 7’5k, 4/4 chapters

Apparently, sexting Mr. Stark by accident is a thing Peter does now. While touching himself. And Tony... Well, he probably shouldn't fantasize about Peter, but the kid's just too damn attractive and brilliant for his own good.

• just for tonight; by keenwonderlandcollector, M, 31’1k, 10/10 - cw: incest/father-son incest

While out at an exhibit, Peter gets into an awkward situation and pretends that Tony, his father, is actually his boyfriend. Tony goes along with it, and Peter soon finds himself enjoying it a little too much…

• from the bounty; by feyrelay (@feyrelay) & natureboy, E, 31’8k, 3/3 chapters

Tony’s eyes are always dark, but now there's almost no iris left. He looks hollowed out. There’s something terribly hungry there, despite the feast they've filled themselves on.

(20k words of food erotica foreplay and 13k words of porn)

• better than; by unsettled (@unsettledink), M, 40’6k, oneshot

Maybe there isn't really a fixed point where it starts, where any of it starts, nothing Tony can point to and say, there, there is where I made my mistake, there is where I could have stopped this, there is where I can stop it from happening again.

Maybe it shouldn’t have been something Tony tried to stop.

(or: the one where Tony is going to be responsible for once, okay? He is!)

• worth the word; by unsettled (@unsettledink), teen and up, 5’4k, oneshot

Valentine’s Day is not Peter’s favorite holiday by a long shot. And it’s not just because he’s a little jealous of everyone else showing off gifts from their partners.

But it’s still really nice that an unknown someone sent him a gift this year. Or two. Or— okay, this is getting out of hand.

• above and beyond; by unsettled (@unsettledink), E, 12’8k, oneshot - cw: incest/father-son incest

Trans Peter telling his dad that he’s never had an orgasm. And Tony eating Peter out until the boy’s oversensitive and crying out “dad” as he comes.

• still use work; by LearnedFoot (@learned-foot), E, 6’5k, oneshot

“In the spirit of scientific discovery,” Tony adds.

“Yeah, the spirit of scientific discovery, exactly.”

Or: Peter has a problem. Tony attempts to solve it. To be helpful, obviously. That’s the only reason.

• a familiar stranger; by Starker1975 (@starker1975), E, 132,1k, 21/21 chapters - cw: incest/father-son incest

Peter's tired of being single, but online dating scares him, so he creates a fake profile to scope out the playing field before fully committing. He isn't sure what to think when he sees his dad's profile on the app.

hope you like them as much as i did!

[marigold-hills]

Dunes and Waters

PART 1 • NEXT PART

PART 2:

Here is the thing about living alone: the routines. Little patterns of behaviour, daily rituals. Like turning on the kettle for tea before going to brush your teeth. A cigarette smoked out the kitchen window while waiting for it to cool down. Cryptic crosswords in the morning paper.

Remus has been living by himself for six years, ever since his mum died and his dad decided he couldn’t live with the reminder, going off to travel the Scottish Highlands and never returning. And he likes it, Remus does; never mind if he’s in his tiny studio in London, his old university accommodation, or in this lovely hotel in Egypt. Being alone suits him.

This morning, his crossword is half (and incorrectly) completed. The water from the kettle emptied and not replaced. His cigarettes – of which he still had three, he’s certain – all gone.

Worst of all? Sirius Black, hair up in a knot held up with his wand, sprawled out onto Remus’ favourite windowsill smoking what must be his last cigarette.

He looks like a cover of an album. Framed by the morning sun. Velvet Underground would pay a fortune for a picture of him right now, dressed in a loose billowy shirt he’s procured from Merlin knows where, and nothing else but boxers. Andy Warhol would paint him like he painted Marilyn – obsessively, repeatedly. Immortalise how he flicks the cigarette, a bit of ash falling onto the windowsill. Runs a restless thumb down the line of his bottom lip. Hums to himself softly and Remus thinks I was right because even subdued like this, it truly is a voice to behold.  

“I didn’t know how you take your tea,” Black says in leu of greeting.

“With hot water, to start with.” The meaning (refill the damned kettle!) seems lost on him, as he goes back to watching the world outside the window.

Must be a strange thing, to be here. Yesterday, and for the last two months, he woke up in a tiny cell made even smaller by the range of the chain holding him down. The window too high up and too small to give sunlight or a view, and even if he’d managed to get up there, he’d only have seen the sunken walls surrounding the jail.

Remus refills the kettle (again) and turns it on (again).

“Might making me one too?”

And Remus is a polite person. His mother taught him to be. So he turns off the kettle. Adds enough water for another tea, and hopes that this time is the last time.

“I like it real sweet,” Sirius drawls, stretching his vowels like a cat after a sun nap. “Lots of sugar.”

“You can add your own.”

“So inhospitable. So cruel. I’m sick, you know?”

“Sick enough to smoke all my cigarettes. Did you take your potions at least?”

A sharp tiny smile, a break in the veneer. “Knew you wouldn’t mind, Professor. You look like a right standup guy. The kind that lends others his smokes and his tea.”

“Potions?” Remus doesn’t let the man derail him. It must be an insult, with the way Black says it, but the doctor asked him to keep an eye, and he promised.

Never mind that he really doesn’t want his work delayed if Black gets worse on account of his own stupidity. It’s too important. Too time-sensitive.

“Yes, yes. I’ve taken them. Scouts honour, Professor. Or should I call you Doctor, instead, hmm? I’m sure you have one of those as well.”

“A doctorate? No. Not yet.”

“Pity. Professor it is then.”

“Just Remus. Please.”

NEXT PART

NOTES:

So I’m not going with the prompts this month because they just REALLY didn’t fit this story, but should still have 500 word bits every day :)

im currently applying for jobs so can’t write as fast as I normally do (they all have tests! Or hackathons! So so long), but will keep updating hopefully as usual

i love love love cryptic crosswords. They’re confusing as hell and fry my brain in such a delightful way :):):)

how are we all surviving AO3 being down?

@tealeavesandtrash

@moon-girl88

@hoje--aqui

(let me know if you do/don’t want to be tagged!)

[lovemari]

IMPORTANT: Hello! My old account, Lovemari, got deleted. Therefore, I had to make a new one. I'm honestly pretty upset about this so I'll take some time to recover! Thankfully, all my posts are saved as I write them in google docs before posting. Please like and reblog so I can reach my old followers and potentially new ones!

Cat Date - Wanderer x Reader

Reminder: I'm not an experienced writer so construction criticism is always welcome! Also, I write for fun. I just wanted to share my work around the world!

Pairing: Wanderer x Reader

Synopsis: Wanderer asks you on a date in a strange way.

Notes: Let's be honest, in this fict, the cats were Wanderers wingcat lol. Also, not my proudest fict but I still like the scenario!

Recently, Dove, your cat has been acting odd. She's gone the entire day and comes back meowing at your door in the middle of the night, ruining your whole sleep schedule.

You believed it to be some kind of cat ritual or anything else that's crazy. Though, one day, or night to be exact, you found yourself quite curious. Dove hasn't been at your door for 2 days.

What do you do? You got up, at 12 in the night, and went to the neighbors house. He's quite the strange guy, if you were honest. Still, you always thought he was a cat himself. If not, then he certainly acted like one. So why not pay him a visit.

You knocked on his door, and out came the bowl cut dwarf, “Ugh..you? What is it?” He grumbled, clearly annoyed that you woke him up. At this point, you were panicking, “I can't find Dove! Can you help?” You rushed, with thoughts of Dove lingering in your mind. What if she was eaten by coyotes? Or even worse, stolen!

Your neighbor laughed, “I'm Wanderer, by the way.” He replied, as if nothing was happening. Before you could say anything Wanderer butted in, “Your cats with me. She's in love with my cat, Raven, for whatever reason. It's truly disgusting” He snickered, though, meaning no harm.

You blinked a couple of times before immediately rushing into his house. There, you saw Dove sleeping with Raven.

Swooping her up, you rushed out of the house. Wanderer stopped you before you could make your exit, unfortunately.

He gave you his number, “Tomorrow, 5:00, xxxx” He invited before smiling, “Let's have a cat date.” You gave him a weird look, was he drunk or something? Wanderer doesn't usually act like this.

You figured he wasn't right in the head so you rushed out, hoping he'll be sober in the morning.

You kissed Dove's head before turning off the night. Dove responded with an annoyed mew, clearly unhappy about you embarrassing her about her boyfriend. Unfortunately for her, you couldn't care less about a cat's love life.

You woke up early. You thought about it for a while but you decided you'd visit Scaramouche. Two reasons, actually. One, you wanted to make sure he wasn't drunk. Two, you didn't want to ditch him in case he wasn't drunk.

You got dressed and went to the place he mentioned. It was a cat cafe. You didn't know he was into that stuff but honestly, you weren't surprised.

You walked into the cafe, immediately being welcomed by some girl. You nodded, a little creeped out, before finding Scaramouche at a seat. You walked to him, “Hey.” You greeted. He looked at you, “About yesterday? I'm sorry.I was drunk.” He replied, quickly. He must be embarrassed.

You checked, “I figured.” your laughter stopped as you saw Wanderer blushing, playing with his hands, “I like you. That part was true” He confessed, his voice low and quiet.

You were surprised, to say the least. This man sure had a strange way of confessing but you found it cute.

You figured, it was too early for dating. Especially because you rarely talk to Wanderer. Still, there was something about him you enjoyed, “How about we have more cat dates before we decide what's best?” You teased, referring to when Wanderer was drunk. Wanderer nodded, acknowledging your tease and accepting it.

You could both see the sparks between you two.

[ocelot-t]

do have any Hazbin Hotel or just RadioRose headcanons? Like Rosie being a really good painter or Alastor technically being younger than he seems or something? (I just like reading other people's ideas on their favorite characters lol)

You arrived just in time.

There will be a lot of words I have mostly a lot of disconnected thoughts in my head, which I sometimes consciously or unconsciously implement in drawings. besides, I don't remember what the canon is, and what the old fanon is, to be honest. If you would like me to, I can share not only my headcanons, but also some of the AUs I have.

I understand where the theory comes from, but I don't like the idea of Alastor being forced to smile all this time. I think he wants to keep everything under his control so much that he smiles even in death. The idea that he is just a sick man, serial killer makes his eternal smile even more unnerving. I don't want to justify him.

I think Al would have enjoyed reading H.P Lovecraft’s works. The tentacled creatures and descriptions of people as nonentities suffering defeat in a fight with chthonic creatures... btw, some of Lovecraft's stories were published during Alastor's era. I have a small headcanon about Alastor's death, and I plan to create a comic in the future (if I can actually get it done).

There are 2 possible deaths of Alastor's mother in my mind, and I’m uncertain which one I want to illustrate. maybe both continuing the theme of Alastor’s human life. I sincerely believe that even if Alastor had really had an abusive father, Al would have been cruel since childhood. Guess what? I have an unfinished little comic with a hum!Al by another artist, and I'm uncertain when I’ll manage to complete it. The headcanon that suggests Alastor’s father is an abuser already seems like a canon; however, I don’t want to portray him as a completely terrible person. I like the idea of Alastor enjoying hunting, so let's say he learned it from his father. Just like all the dad jokes. on the other hand, as for the scars on Alastor, some of them probably came from his father, since domestic violence was a common problem. Regarding art, as you might have noticed, I have a headcanon that Al understands the arts in general, whether it's painting, cinema, or music. Perhaps I think this way only because I am trying to combine things I love very much. I imagine him as a person you could have a discussion about these topics with??? It seems to me that Alastor and Rosie would often discuss these topics over a glass of wine or a cup of tea. Suddenly, Alastor would show up at Rosie's and instead of hello I READ ABOUT FRA FILIPPO LIPPI. DO YOU HAVE AN HOUR FREE? BTW I HOPE YOU WATCHED THAT DZIGA VERTOV MOVIE THAT I RECOMMENDED Rosie would love art nouveau and I don't know rococo? and Alastor would be like no art nouveau is okay, cute, but rococo is bullshit. *2-hour episode of drunken dad teaching life* Continuing on the topic of artists, I repeat myself, I have a silly unfinished series of mini-comics about Alastor and Rosie as art academy students, the plots of which are based on real life (almost). I have thought about what kind of styles they would draw in, what kind of themes they would focus on, and so on. Again, there is a lot of text here already, so I'll wrap up this topic for now. P.S. I have a strange idea in my head about how to imagine Alastor in the USSR in the 10-30s. It was quite fun there: the World War I, the revolution, the civil war, the post-revolutionary years, famines and so on, and so on. For fun, of course, but Alastor the Communist has a good reason to hate Vox the Capitalist and his MMM I mean VVV or Lucifer the emperor of hell, if you know what I mean. Instead of telling dad jokes, he would say that life under Stalin was good and quote Lenin. Of course, these are all jokes, but I did have some abstract thoughts about how his life and his family's life would be arranged. However, I don't know enough about the history of USSR to actually implement this properly. so yeah