#they have different calls for different threats

[ellecdc]

Love that you’ve opened requests for Finnick!

Would you write for finnick x reader established relationship? but Peeta and Katniss think it’s all for show (kind of how Finnick saw them originally)

during the 75th games overnight as the poison fog comes through reader gets swallowed up and they loose sight of her, but have to keep moving. Of course they loose Mags, and maybe the canon goes off (for another tribute) and finnick is tangibly heartbroken thinking it’s her.

The next day she wanders onto the beach with Johanna and the rest, having survived by hiding in the waterways.

Lovely happy ending lovers reunion moment💘

thanks for your request! I've had this more or less done for a few days but I'm not sure how I feel about it...hopefully I did an okay job, but I figured I might as well post it. thanks to @unstablereader for parsing this out with me <3

Finnick Odair x victor!reader during the 75th Hunger Games [1.4k words]

CW: fem!reader, blood rain, mention of death, reader goes into a bit of shock, Finnick handles it expertly, Johanna being the problematic queen that she is

Finnick tried really hard not to act as petulant as he felt, but between his stress, his grief, and the fucking heat, he was sure he was failing in his feat. 

“She’s probably fine, yeah?” Peeta (stupidly) tried, shooting a nervous glance between Finnick who was brooding near the water's edge and Katniss who was pouting near the tree line. “She won her own games; she can hold her own.” 

“I just don’t understand what the point of having a look-out was if you were going to lose an entire woman.” Finnick finally shouts then, holding his hands out in front of him helplessly. 

“The point of a look-out was to look out for threats, not babysit your girlfriend.” Katniss all but sneered in return.

“Oh? And what exactly do you call what I’ve been doing for you and your husband these past few days then, hm?” 

“I don’t need nor did I ask to be babysat!” 

“Well, someone smarter than you begged to differ, yeah? I’m inclined to agree.” Finnick spat before making to stand. 

“...nanny of the year award after this…”  Finnick muttered to himself as he stalked back up to the tree line to get another drink of water. He’d been sick with worry after hearing a second canon after they lost Mags in the fog, and there’d been no signs of you since. He thought he might actually call the whole plan off if your face lit up the sky tonight.

The sound of trees rustling and a grunt had all three tributes standing at the ready with their weapons drawn, watching the tree line and waiting for the cause of the noise to show itself. 

“Oh Johanna…” the unmistakable sound of your (rather disappointed) voice rang out. “Be nice to her.” 

Johanna let out a frustrated shriek as they watched her appear from the trees and all but shove what looked to be Wiress towards the water. 

“Yes! Yes! We all know, Nuts! Tick tock, tick tock. Get to the water!” 

“Johanna!” You barked.

Finnick’s lips formed your name before he was rushing across the beach to you; barely sparing a moment to look you over before his trident was dropped into the sand, freeing his arms to loop around your middle and lift you into the air. 

“Fucking finally,” Johanna sighed in obvious relief as she finally pushed Wiress into the saltwater, “someone with a vocabulary of more than four words.”

“Beetee and I have a vocabulary of more than five words…” You replied, though your argument was someone lost in Finnick’s chest where he had your face shielded. 

“Unless you plan on offing her, Odair, you might want to let your girlfriend breathe.” Johanna called.

“Babe what the fuck?” He hissed as he pulled you away from him, only then registering the fact that you were covered head to toe in…blood? “What the fuck!?”

“Before you get mad; it’s not my blood, and look who I found!” You placated quickly, gesturing to the three tributes you’d shown up with.

“What were you thinking, Y/N!?” He asked you then, shaking you gently by the shoulders. “What happened!?”

“I’m sorry!” You nearly keened, looking very contrite. “I was just so thirsty and so I figured while everyone slept I’d go look for water. I heard what sounded like rain so I went running, and the next thing I knew I couldn’t see a damn thing!”

“She didn’t so much as find us as she actually slammed directly into Nuts over here.” Johanna translated for Finnick. 

“Sorry Wiress.” You offered the woman sheepishly who simply waved as she continued her little clock song in turn.

“What happened to all of you?” Peeta asked then, suddenly directly behind Finnick and alerting him to the fact that all of you were covered in the crimson mess.

“What happened, Mellark,” Johanna hissed as she made to stalk over, completely ignoring the way Katniss’ bow was locked and loaded and pointing at her in the very next second, “was that your darling wife wanted Nuts and Bolts over here, so what did I do? I got her Nuts and Bolts! Then this one had the brilliant idea of wandering off when she was supposed to be with you idiots, and the three of you - fearsome victors that you are - let her! And where’s my thanks, huh? Who’s running through the sand to come find me?”

Finnick had the decency to offer her a guilty look, but she offered him an unimpressed smirk and fluttered her eyes in a half eye roll before she turned her glare back towards District Twelve’s lovebirds. 

“Couldn’t even celebrate the rain and finally having access to water because it was fucking blood!” She continued, now directing her ire to the sky.

“It rained blood?” Peeta murmured quietly then.

“So much blood...” You answered solemnly; hair cracking when you nodded due to the semi-dried substance coating it as you stared unseeingly at the trees with a haunted expression on your face. 

“Let’s get you washed off then, hm?” Finnick asked as he directed you towards the waters edge, though he kept Johanna’s eye contact as he said it. 

“Oh, I’m sure you’re just dying to see what I look like underneath all of this, Odair.” 

“Nothing we haven’t already seen, right Peeta?” Finnick tried for levity as he shot the kid a wink, only for Katniss to scowl and elbow him in the ribs. 

Finnick didn’t miss the way you shivered as you got into the water which concerned him seeing as the water was hardly cool enough to be of any relief in this scorching heat. 

“Peeta! Can you bring us water, please?”

“You guys have water!?” Johanna screeched.

“Katniss, can you bring some water to Johanna?” Finnick heard Peeta ask, earning him a petulant “do I have to?” in return.

“She brought you Wiress and Beetee.” Peeta countered, causing his girlfriend - wife? - to glower before doing what she was asked. 

“You doing okay, lovely girl?” Finnick asked as he massaged some of the dried blood from your body, keeping his voice calm even though your sluggish movements and the lack of colour in your lips was causing him great concern. 

“I’m kind of cold, Finn.” You slurred. 

“Cold?” Peeta asked incredulously as he showed up with one of Mags’ woven baskets filled with water.

Finnick hummed in response as he accepted the water from him, holding it up to your lips as he helped you take a drink. “I think she might be in shock.” He explained evenly. 

“She’s in shock? What do we do?” He started, words speeding up as he directed his concern at you.

“Well, we’re going to start with not doing that.” Finnick muttered in reference to his quickly mounting panic. “She’s alright, right honey?”

You hummed in agreement, though you were looking at Finnick with a furrow in your brows. 

“You’re alright.” He repeated, both for your benefit and his own. “I’ve got you now, yeah? We’re okay when we’re together.”

Tears quickly pooled in your eyes before they escaped the corners of your eyes, painting a rather macabre picture through the blood still stuck to your face. 

“M’sorry, Finn.” 

“Don’t be sorry, Y/N.” Finnick murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Just stay with me, okay? No more wandering off; I need you here with me.”

“I’m here.” You murmured, arm rising slowly to trail a finger over the bridge of his nose. “I’m here.” 

“Told you it was real.” Peeta muttered to Katniss then, an inelegant snort from Johanna startling both of them when they realized she was out of the water and standing at their side. 

“The two of you really are dumber than you look.” She taunted.

“I’ll take the first watch.” Finnick shouted before any infighting could start, shooting Katniss a halfhearted glare. “Everybody else rest up.” 

“Can I stay up with you, Finnick?” You murmured, still looking rather dazed as you half floated in the salty water in Finnick’s arms. 

You’d probably be the first to fall asleep, but Finnick didn’t bother telling you that. He simply agreed, pressing another kiss to your head before he continued washing you off.

[nymphea0]

Monster And His Love

Yan! Leon winston x reader

Oneshot Story (Special Side story)

(Warning : Some Death threat, Some Mature Scene in the end!)

(Minor are prohidited to read this story🚫 )

Main story of : Monster And His Love

Manhwa : Try Begging

: Adult Manhwa (19+)

Author: Libenia | 리베냐

Artist: ABYSS

Word Count ; 100k word

So because many of you asked about Leon's story, so this is a special chapter that I made. This is shows how rough and significant your future with leons is. so use a lot of your imagination my dear, every ending is yours to determine whether it is a happy ending or not. For my one of dear, i promise to update on New years eve, but guess not, but dont worry, in New years Eve i will update some special oneshot story, my dears.. do you all like Older Chara? Like for example Nanami or like peter killer? Some older man? (^3^) anyways.. much of love- Neva🦋

Might have some bad grammars, correct me if there are any mistakes in the words in the story I wrote. Anyways i hope you all enjoys my story, much love.- Neva🦋

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Leon Winston, Who doesn't know that man? Brilliant achievements, famous among the soldiers and also the noble faction.

A handsome man who no one knows how much of a devil he is. Maybe there is only 1 person... his wife. That person is none other than you.

It has been more than 6 years that you have lived with a man, whom you call a devil, a crazy and cruel devil. 6 years you have faced hell by getting pregnant with his child. You have tried everything to escape from Leon, with the child you are carrying, but like a hunted deer, you are trapped. Can't run or even escape.

No.. this story is different from what you think, this is your story, your story in trying to tame the devil, for 6 years.. the effort was not in vain, maybe you could say.. you regret even doing that. Because Leon... is increasingly captivated.. and obsessed with you.

Fareadith Sophia Winston.. your first child with Leon, unfortunately she has Leon's hair color but with your amethyst eyes. You feel like crying every time you see her, you will remember Leon.

What surprised you .. Leon really loves Sophia, the reason is enough to make your soul tremble .. with burning intensity Leon said right in front of your face at that time.

"You ask, why do I like Sophia so much?"

Leon approached you slowly, pulling your chin, making you look directly into his eyes.

"Sophia reminds me of you my dear, she has the same eyes as you my wife .. my love, if she didn't look like you, I would definitely ... kill that child"

You really want to scream, curse and torture the man who is grinning like a devil in front of you.

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'31 - xx - 1xxx'

At a beautiful glamorous party, attended by many rich families, a gathering of aristocrats.

One of them is, you and Leon. Even when you and Leon have changed identities in this country, Leon still insists on being a person with unlimited money.

Standing beside Leon who was busy talking to the coal entrepreneur. His right hand was holding a wine glass, while his left hand was hugging your waist affectionately. Maybe that's what people think, too bad, Leon did embrace you.. but also kept you in place so you don't wander off.

Being a good and obedient wife. Do you regret knowing Leon? Of course, you curse your father who took you to Count Winston's residence, maybe if you refused, this misfortune would not be directed at you, but at someone else, Riddle Grace for example, the girl at the summer resort that you accidentally met playing with Leon

The girl with Turquoise eyes, who Leon always called Daisy. Well, but the rice has become porridge, your fate may be more terrible than Riddle Grace.

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After the party, Leon forced you into his car, you sat quietly, very different from your husband who was busy focusing on the road.

His grip on the steering wheel was so tight, you? Sighing softly, damn, your hell will come soon. You really hoped the cooling ointment you bought at the local doctor would at least help heal the abrasions.

"How many men have you seduced tonight?!"

Leon may have his eyes on the road ahead, but his hands? His hands were tightly gripping your thighs, squeezing them with a mixture of emotion and possessiveness.

"Seducing you say? I've been standing beside you for over 2 hours Leon? How could I even seduce them when you're holding my waist tightly?!"

Damn, your story is over, you accidentally raised your voice, the car Leon was driving, made a sharp turn, and stopped right in front of the forest, a deserted area!.

"So it turns out, my love has now become a rebellious woman"

Leon got out of the car, turned around and forced open the side car door right where you were sitting.

"Look at me doll"

With his tight grip on the nape of your face with eyes filled with jealousy and arousal.

"Kneel"

You want to refuse but what can you do when you are side by side with Leon who could ask you to do more and more strange things.

You get out of the car, inevitably kneeling on the ground and grass that touches your knees.

"Open it with your own hands"

Leon looks at you kneeling right in front of him, so beautiful and erotic, how lucky he is to have a wife like you.

"Suck it faster doll, don't hit your teeth"

With a tight grip on your hair, Leon guides you to suck it and move your head back and forth, he penetrates your mouth, as if your mouth is another part that he really wants to damage and claim.

You can only pray that when you get home, Leon will at least be gentle with you.

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Let's say you are the saddest woman in the world, your daughter Shopia has above average intelligence that makes your head dizzy, while leon? The man was just busy laughing at the report from Sophia's guard who reported that the child had deliberately burned down the inauguration building of the international bank, on the grounds that the bank's funds used corrupted people's money.

With a revolutionary spirit along with the other people, sophia burned down the bank right on the day the bank was to be inaugurated.

"See the doll? I told you, it would be better if we put it in the military academy"

.

At night, maybe it's the time when your world really becomes a hell of torture.

Lying in bed, both your hands and feet are tied to each bedpost, making you in the 'X' position.

Eyes covered with black silk cloth, in a naked position.

Yes, that's right, naked, your hell will come soon, and you are not sure whether in 1 week you will be able to walk or not.

"Sophia is already 6 years old my dear, it would be nice if we gave her a sibling, a little brother for example? Hopefully the second one will be similar to you"

You can hear the sound of Leon's shoes, and the sound of flowing water and the sound of an object being placed somewhere, you are not sure.

Until you feel Leon's tongue forcing its way into your mouth, you can feel the wine flowing in every corner of your mouth, you can even feel the wine falling in vain to both your left and right sides.

"Tonight you are very naughty, teasing men at the party, raising your voice, even, trying to argue back to me"

Leon's hands skillfully squeeze your chest, his lips that very expertly sip, and bite your neck, leaving marks on every inch of your neck, claiming as if there is no tomorrow.

"I will enjoy you so much, my love"

For Leon, no one can take you away from him, if necessary making you pregnant with his child for the second time, maybe it's not a bad idea, even if the world ends.. Leon will find any way to be able to continue to be with you, no matter how much the price is needed.

Because you are there for him, and he is there for you, His, his alone, no one else.

His mine

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Tag list; @snowflakes666 @nerdygoateepeanut @blurryperrtymoonlight @luminethebest @scenicelixir @n4muqr @cannyyyyy @athena-roy @sirenetheblogger @rai-xxx @thehopingfairy @ryusooze @yaoduriaa @merveeeeesworld @darkuni63

Please dont steal my work, or use without my permissions, Always be good people Dear. Much love, Neva🦋🦋.

©️Nymphea0 2024 , OG story, Project Drak Manhwa Character story.

[narfin-frood]

another little comic abt wander's time as the interim guitarist for ninety ounce nihilists .... i cannot stop thinking abt it

single image spread, transcript, thumbnails & other ramblings under the cut

TRANSCRIPT:

[an empty stage with a ninety ounce nihilists banner hanging from the top. the work lights are on, showing nobody but wander coiling a length of wire onstage. tumbleweed hums to himself as he works, but within a moment, the lights flick off with a loud CLUNK]

TUMBLEWEED: ummm... hey! couldja turn those back on?

[no response, so wander goes back to what he was doing in the dark]

TUMBLEWEED: s'pose not

[a band member appears in the next frame. she has a head like a hammerhead shark]

BAND MEMBER: hey, tumbleweed

TUMBLEWEED: well hi there!

BAND MEMBER: how come you still stick around?

[tumbleweed looks away sheepishly, but he still responds]

TUMBLEWEED: well, you're my friends! mr. threat is, too... he just don't know it yet

BAND MEMBER: ...he hates you. and he treats you like garbage. he's...he's making money off you, and he's not even giving you any credit. much less the cash you generate!!

[tumbleweed shrugs.]

TUMBLEWEED: never expected him to.

BAND MEMBER: wh...well, you should.

[tumbleweed takes his hat off and stuffs the coil of wire inside as he speaks]

TUMBLEWEED: it's alright. i'm doin' him a favor. y'all needed a guitar, n' i happen'ta have one. i don't expect nothin' in return

[the band member glances off stage with a sour expression towards three other members of the band, including major threat himself.]

BAND MEMBER: let me give you a hand.

---

ok so the band member i included doesnt have a name, but here she is in the show, along with the rest of the ninety ounce nihilists, all vaguely middle-aged

i really realllly wanna draw them all when they were active as nozn because i love to dress up funky guys like them. theyre so fun. anyways.

i think wander is the reason nozn breaks up in the first place. they get back together in the future, yeah, after major threat makes up with them, however he goes about that. but like, the comical lengths i think major threat would go through just to keep wander at arm's length would be a tipping point for the rest of the band, because they'd start to realize how poorly they were being treated.

i think the straw that breaks the camel's back would be wander attempting to provide backing vocals and being immediately kicked out of the band. the kicker being that it's for a song he wrote, and all the other members would quickly follow him, because, hey, what the fuck, dude. what did he ever do to you. what did WE do to you for that matter.

ANYWAYYYZZZZ if anybody has like name suggestions for them or anything let me know! honestly i'm defaulting to calling them all different alien variations on trent and reznor because i think it would be funny to do

[sillymercury]

In the first tags it says most movies/books are not meant to be torn apart but I disagree completely. In fact I think most books/movies are made to dissected and understood on a deeper level. Because whether you like it or not and whether the author meant to or not, books/movies have themes and messages and many people enjoy finding them.

I don’t think it smart to write something(esp things so popular) off as mindless entertainment bc your being fed a message even if you don’t know it. There is nothing wrong with enjoying a book despite whatever message is being sent but when you blatantly ignoring the fact that these things exist is how propaganda propagates. If you are being intentionally fed a narrative without knowing you are likely to internalize it on some level which can be particularly dangerous. The danger presents itself abundantly in this day and age especially when you see people who have such hard stances but cant tell you/explain where those stances originate. Sns thrives off of the want to ‘turn your mind off’ and just consume/enjoy, but that’s never what actually happens. Your subconscious is still processing information but since you’re not consciously dealing with it that leaves room for issues like anxiety, depression, and personality disorder. This seems off topic but ‘mindless consumption’ isn’t a thing, your brain keeps score even when you don’t.

Also a book can have multiple “messages” and you can like some and not the others while still enjoying the piece overall. When I truly love a piece of media I acknowledge is flaws and shortcomings and can see the issues with a story/message while still enjoying it thoroughly. An example for me is I enjoyed the book The Picture of Dorian Gray while recognizing and rejecting the way the characters/book discusses and depicts women.

Like in Nestas book specifically, the main themes are empowerment (specifically female) and growth. This book was my favorite in the series and yet I can still acknowledge all the things wrong with it. Main character were incredibly hypocritical throughout the book, verbal abuse was seemingly over looked/excused, Stockholm syndrome parallels, etc. I identify these things but that still doesn’t detract from my experience instead, adds to it.

Another thing I wanted to mention before bringing this to a close; authors. For the sake of not rambling due to personal feelings I’ll just say, there is nothing wrong with calling out behavior or publicly disagreeing with ideals when it come to public figures. How it’s handled, whether it works, or it’s longevity is a different conversation but there is nothing wrong with speaking out against people in the public eye/people who create mass consumed media.

I understand your take, and I agree people take things way to seriously, but I think your frustration may be displaced. I think the issue with ACOTAR fandom specifically is the same issue with most fandoms. People are delusional, mean, and spoiled. People identify to hard or personalize characters/celebs to the point it becomes an parasocial and problematic. People are also very spoiled in the sense that we feel entitled to the things we want, like we deserve them intrinsically and when there is the threat of not getting what you want (esp is fandoms when discussing this almost mob mentality) or someone challenges your belief/opinion people lash out and get nasty, even feeling personally wronged but a differing stance. When you bring all of these things together it can get nasty very quickly. I’ve been and am still in so many fandoms that I hardly interact with because so much content is toxic or rage bait or whatever. Platforms like Reddit or discord where you can have controlled conversation with a group of people just as dedicated to a topic as you, and you can discuss thoughts and opinions in (what should be) a safe space is an incredible experience but most platforms don’t have moderation that can harbor that so then your left with a mess of often times toxicity and division.

I rambled and diverged a little bit but I thought hard about what I had read and this is what I came up with. Also I feel I should say I’m not a lit major lol but I am educated and I work hard to form my own opinions while still listening to other people takes. And that this is not an attack on op this is pretty much my stream of consciousness after reading the post and I am open to discussion.

my hot take as to why the acotar fandom is a shit show is because too many people with english degrees infiltrated and cannot read a book simply to enjoy it, they must pick it apart and analyze it to the point of just tearing it, the characters and the author apart. and gullible people adopted that same mindset.

in simpler terms: too many people take it way, WAY too seriously lol. like this series is meant for entertainment. sarah didn’t write classic literature with underlying themes on morals and society that’s meant as think pieces. y’all do too much and can never just enjoy things. you’re like the cinephiles that cannot just watch a movie for entertainment purposes, you need citizen kane otherwise you’re shitting on everything because it’s not up to your snobbish standards

[starspangledbatter]

⭐️ TW: TADC Anime Guy (Harassment and Threats) ⭐️

@/ichigo888 Get off the sideblog. Maybe instead of sending threats to people, accusing creators of being p3dophiles, and making a fool out of yourself, why don’t you get your pussy ass off of Tumblr and go back to the insane asylum. We’d be much happier without you 🖕. Seriously, can we scrub the shit stain off of the floor please?

Why don’t we talk about the time you were sending suicide and 🍇 threats to TADC fans? Hell, you were even saying this stuff to Gooseworx herself. Going on a rampage about how you wish she’d k*ll herself, calling her transphobic slurs, and telling her you were going to SA her. What the fuck is wrong with you man? Are you upset that she wants nothing to do with someone as pathetic as you? Nobody wants you here, end of story. I genuinely hope you’re just an idiotic kid that thinks he’s being cool and not a grown man. You can get charged with this in many different countries, don’t you know?

I don’t usually go off like this but seriously fuck you. I wish your dad would have worn a condom when conceiving you. I wish you get called out for manipulating people with false allegations. I hope you rot and die alone. I hope your funeral’s guests are the grubs eating your corpse. Fuck off and get a life instead of ruining the lives of others. I’ve tolerated you long enough and I’m sick of it. Do you think this is the kind of stuff you should be telling people, let alone minors?

Here are some of this loser’s alts.

For more information on him, here are some links to that. If you find him, please BLOCK AND REPORT HIM:

[m3vl0vesu]

~

A/N: Soooo hi. I’m alive!! Anyway this is a oneshot(?) about…idrk but you’ve lost most of your memories and Nayvee was your hero name/what people used to call you. I started writing it at exactly 9pm on the 26th of december. Also reading back on my old writing, people liked that? Anyways, enjoy!! Tw angst and mentions of scars, mentions of abuse, nothing to gritty :) Gender neutral reader and racially ambiguous ;) oh and don't copy plwase

Every window was slightly open, just enough to make the whole apartment cold. There was even a cold mist from under the door, hitting the sides of your arms. It stung. So cold you could almost see your cats slow breaths, well it was really a random stray but with so little to call yours why not hang on to a silly kitty?

The only bit of warmth was the cigarette in your hand, the small thing filled up your lungs. Made your heart beat with guilt and longing, it felt so good. Good but so bad. It was the only light in your life, the burning cigarette butt and the flame used to light it. It was a pathetic life, but it was yours. A person behind the screen, fixing other people's problems and slip ups, an eraser that’s what you were. Erasing people's lives just as people erased yours. Every impact, every solution, every person saved and every person killed because of you, gone. Like it was completely nothing, like every scar on your back and every scar on your arms were worth nothing. A body full of stories but stories that shall sadly never be heard. It was almost peaceful, it’s not like you really wanted to remember anyway, but the option would’ve been nice. 

It hurts your head. It always hurts, filled with constant screams and pleads of help. Words of anger and authority, that one you did remember. You remembered all of it, down to the slurred praise and constant cussing. A voice that had been whispering to you since you were all but an embryo, a voice that you watched fade. Here it became rougher with every puff, every packet seemed to be gone within days. 

No wonder, now you understand. All that begging and crying just to wound up enjoying the same cruel substances.

Your peaceful tappink of keys was sadly interrupted. It was almost routinely, the pixels on your laptop would display 23:25 and you would hear it. The squeaking of the window in the kitchen, and then a heavy thud followed after. It would bring in a large gush of wind, and the rotten smell of gotham roads, made it all the better to have a cigarette in between your lips. Soon you’d hear a man, the man. The man with the heavy kevlar suit and the cape. Oh you hated that cape, the way it sounded when it dragged across your kitchen tiles made you want to scratch your eyes out. Every footstep closer towards you felt like a warning, like a threat. His whole presence towards you was a threat, one step out of line, one sentence dubbed too insane and you're done. Everything stripped away as quick as your memory was.

“Well you're as punctual as ever, aren’t you Bruce?” It felt wrong, just uttering his name like you knew him.

Maybe Nayvee knew him, but you? This fucked up version of you? No recollection of this man, not even of his public persona. You only knew the Dark Knight, and not the one that saved babies from some underground crime, no. You knew the one that would stand over a suffering body and not give them the pleasure of death, he taunted you waiting for it. Waiting for the ticking bomb to finally explode. It felt like he was just visiting to find a reason to get rid of you. It was always the guessing game with this man. Then again he was the only one of your so-called friends to visit. 

“...” and it was nothing from him. Just brooding silence and the occasional huff and sigh. He was different today, less tense. His fists were less clenched and his shoulders less tense, it wasn’t a scowl or a watchful eye-not that you could see his eyes- on his face but it was just a neutral expression. Or more of a neutral feeling, that cowl sure did its job.

“Good day today, B? No crime I’m guessing or-”

“There’s always crime in Gotham.” Well no shit. He knew what you meant, or maybe he didn’t. Maybe his armour is just as thick as his skull, at least there was a response this time. “Also don’t call me Bruce.”

“...right, sorry. B, can I call you B? I’ll call you, B.” Right. Another line, another step back. It felt like you were always so far from this man in front of you. It was like torture, the constant silence and the constant interrogation. The past was gone, so why is he trying, almost desperately, to get you to remember something? There was nothing, nothing to do but to turn right to the blinding screen and puff out smoke from your blackened lungs. Lonely. You’d have to be so desperate to expect anything but silence from Gotham’s Ghost. Brucie Wayne was a complete opposite from this shell of a man below you. Yes below, for some reason he’s kneeling on his knees, looking up at the mental mess you were. Smudged day old makeup and hair that not even the greatest hairstylist could fix, and he’s looking at it. There’s something in his eyes, something that you’ve seen before. Is it anger? Is it guilt, longingness, or is it disgust?

Probably the latter.

“God…” What? God what? Why does his voice sound like that, why was he even here? There is nothing in this apartment of worth, and definitely not to him. He had no need for money, he’s the richest fool in New Jersey. There’s no evidence of whatever you committed or any incriminating documents, he’s already checked. Not even a gun in this useless place. So ‘God’ what? “You’ve never looked so much like your Father.” 

Even though it was cruel, it was true. The heavy purple-ish eyebags digging into your skin, the empty eyes full of nothing but the reflection of work. The cigarette being the only other things that your attention is on and the empty beer bottles behind the sofa. It was like watching a scene from forty-something years ago. The runaway child becoming the very thing they hated, a tale as old as time. A tale that is only seen in fragments, very violent fragments.

.

.

.

“Shut up.” He can’t just say that. That’s not something-someone he should know. And it’s evident on his face, the way he immediately goes back to that infuriating mask. Don’t shut up, say more. Tell me more, please. “Please.” Stop making me feel like this.

“I…I am sorry.” 

“For what, Bruce just-” no, desperation was a big no no. Sadness? No. You were over it, it didn’t matter anymore. “You know what? A drink is good, I’m gonna get a drink. Do you want a drink? I’ll get you a drink.” it was the rambling, made you seem insane. But so what? So what if it was rude not to wait for an answer, there was no one to beat the manners, into you was there? As you got out of the chair it felt like your body was going to give out. It was all too much, what was too much?

Nothing.

The nothingness, no laughter, no embracing, no happy glimpses, no it was just nothing. One step towards him felt like a step towards an edge. In both situations gravity was not on your side. The black bat displayed across his chest blurred, as did everything around you. The headache was no longer there, just warm hands and a heartbeat. A racing heartbeat.

You hope it isn’t yours. Hope the warmth is deaths hand embracing you, or hell getting prepared for it’s newest guest.

[ravennawritesfanfiction]

Imagine Being a Loyal Patron of the Theatre des Vampires and Catching Armand's Attention

Pairing: Armand x Reader

Word Count: 1933

Summary: You visit Theatre des Vampires and you notice things are exactly what they seem. You catch Armand's attention.

For months you had watched Santiago come out on stage and tell everyone what they were about to see was real and that he loved them for it. Every night, audience after audience was splattered with red syrup. Every night ending with a murder, a couple of hundred witnesses none the wiser. Assured by the same man that had previously stated that it was real, now telling them it was fake. Patrons convinced that the victims were part of the cast. Willful denial. 

You had been one of them once. However, you quickly realized you couldn’t fake that kind of terror. The fear that was palpable in the air. The look of impending death. In the end, Santiago had them greeting death like an old friend. It was not natural and you were hooked. 

You started watching the cast more intently. Their eyes were unnatural. The way that Santiago spoke to the victims, still he wasn’t the most interesting theater cast member. Each night he would “fly” up to the catwalk, the man up there never failed to meet your gaze. At first it seemed coincidental, like he was looking in your general direction making it appear as though he was looking at you. Then it didn’t matter where in the audience you were, he found you. You stopped watching the shows. Your eyes searching him out in the darkness. His calling to you. 

You attended every performance for two years. You had learned a few members' names. You had met Sam in the ticket booth; he sold the tickets to the shows he wrote. He always had your stubs waiting for you, the spot expertly tailored to your mood of the day. Each offering a new view of the shows you had memorized. It didn’t matter where you were sitting, you were still in view of him. It was as if Sam could read your mind. 

You had met all of the cast over the years. They were all particularly nice to you. It was hard to tell if it was the frequency of your patronage or if there was something more sinister at foot. After all, you knew they were actively killing people every night. Did they know that you had figured it out? That Theatre des Vampires wasn’t just clever or avant garde? 

Tonight was different. Sam wasn’t alone in the ticket booth. He didn’t have your ticket waiting for you. And as you approached, you were met with four unnaturally alluring eyes. The man for the catwalk.

“Would you accompany me tonight?” no introduction. Just an inquiring look that felt like a challenge. “We mean you no harm.” he softened his approach, likely noting that you shifted your weight towards the door. 

“On the Catwalk?” you were confused. Perhaps there would be a terrible accident resulting in you falling to your death. The only one that could tie the theater to the string of missing persons plaguing Paris.

“Yes, on the catwalk. No, you will not fall to your demise.” He smiled both breathtakingly stunning and terrifying. They knew. You had to realize how monumentally bad this was for you. 

“You never have anyone up there with you, save Santiago occasionally. So, why me?” you weren’t digging your heels in exactly, but you weren’t entirely ready to follow a vampire into the dark without knowing so much as his name. 

“We have been doing this for a hundred years. And no one had figured it out. If they did, they never came back, let alone returning every night.” He looked at you as if you belonged under a microscope, fit for study.

“So am I more of a curiosity or a threat to you?” your posture was as far from at ease as one could get. 

“Neither, Ma Cheri. You are more special than you know,” his eyes looked earnest.”Now, will you join me tonight? Otherwise we have a regular ticket for you.” you wanted nothing more than to say yes. It was an uncontrollable impulse. 

He led you into the theater, through the crowds of patrons and vampires. Celeste eyed you suspiciously. Santiago looked like a cat that was about to eat the canary. You were both mystified and terrified. As you approached the stairs to the catwalk, the actors were now far scarier than you had ever thought them to be. 

“Enjoy the show.” Santiago purred into your ear as you passed him, the hair on the back of your neck stood on end. He who had not yet been named led you up the stairs to the area you would be spectating from.

He stood there in silent appraisal, looking out over a sea of fresh spectators. You sat there appraising him. Even in his outward youth, you could see all of his countless years. You had so many questions but made no move to voice them. He volunteered nothing. 

The show began as it always had. Santiago addressed the audience and started his monologue that wound up with him flying up to the catwalk. This time, when the spotlight shifted, you were in it as well, and you saw something that both blew your mind and completely disarmed you. Santiago was not truly harnessed in. It was clipped to a random loop that looked like it could have been a harness, but in the end you realised that Santiago really was flying about the theater. Your dawning realisation was met with a wink before dropping back down to the stage. Your head was spinning. 

The rest of the play passed in a monotonous blur. You memorized the lines, knew all the queues. The only difference was now you could watch the mystery man up close. He was unmoving. He has a script with him, though he didn’t reference it much. The director?

The night’s victim was brought out and from here you could see the glimmering fangs. The screams echoed up here. The blood that made it onto the stage was visible where you had never seen it before. The body was dropped through a trapdoor and you could see down below the stage. You felt your legs give out. The ringing in your ears overpowered Sanitago’s closing remarks. You never felt the ground. Rather, two strong arms wrapped around you breaking your descent. 

“I told you you wouldn’t fall.” he offered you a soft smile as you fought back the tears of your own panic. You wanted to pull away, You wanted to puke. Too many feelings fighting to be the first released. “I’ll let you go if you promise to stay calm.” You looked at the theater, still full of patrons, and nodded.

“I need air.” you were gasping and your vision was fading to black around the edges. Like a brain shortcircuiting. You were gasping, panicking and grasping at anything to try and stay grounded. As it happened, the only thing for you to cling to had been him. 

“Let’s get you outside.” He helped you down the stairs, all but carrying you. You passed the theater vampires who appeared amused by your reaction to tonight’s show.

“I don’t understand.” you stated once the cool air of the night pricked your skin, reviving you into the nightmare your brain attempted to escape.

“Of course not. You were just faced with the impossible. All of the things you were taught are fiction just became fact.” he shifted away to give you space and was intrigued to see you moved with him, having to be near. 

“Why show me at all?” you looked at him as though this answer would solve all of life’s greatest mysteries. 

“Because you saw and accepted what no one else would. You saw a coven of vampires , pretending to be human, pretending to be vampires and called bullshit. But you kept coming back anyway.” He was the supernatural being, but looked at you as though your existence was the impossible one. “No it’s my turn, why?”

“Ummm,” did you lie and risk him calling you on it or answer honestly?

“Honestly.” he laughed as you jumped. It wasn’t the first time he had done this, but this time it was unnerving. 

“Two reasons I guess. First, I was curious about the impossibility of it all. And then there was you.” you glanced his way to gauge his reaction, but you found none. 

“Me?” It was a mock surprise. “You risked being right and possibly dying for it because of me?” the more he pondered the admission, the more confused he became. Surely he had known what your answer would be, but knowing and understanding did not equate the same thing.

“Yes, I guess so. Though the possibility of death didn’t occur to me until tonight.” he stood there looking at you slack jawed.

“Maybe you are a bit of a curiosity.” he joked, you relaxed.

“Two impossibilities?” You looked at him and made eye contact for the first time. He was saddened that this may not have happened. If only you could have known that Santiago had been the first to realise you knew. It had taken Him and Sam both to stop Santiago from following you home that night and draining you. 

“My name is Armand.” he offered, still searching your eyes for a flicker of home. “I have a question, if you’d permit me.” he looked so young, your heart felt like goo in your chest. You nodded for him to continue. “Would you ever consider joining me?” he looked slightly to your side, breaking eye contact.

“For a show or joining you more definitely?” Big difference.

“As my companion. You’ve called to me every night just as I have called to you.” he returned to your gaze.

“What does it mean to be a vampire’s companion?” even the world felt supernatural.

“The closest thing humans have is a spouse. Though a companion is far more than that. The life of a vampire is a lonely one. A companion is a shelter from that loneliness. A comfort in the dark painful existence.” for the hundredth time tonight you asked yourself why you. You hardly felt qualified for the task, though you understood the loneliness Armand described. 

“I do not wish to rob you of your mortality. I only long for your companionship for as long as you'll grant me.” It wasn't as if you had anything to lose. You had your flat and your own suffocating loneliness. 

“I accept. I will join you as your companion along with everything that comes with it.” maybe you were signing your own death warrant, but you quickly realized that you  didn’t care. “How does this work?” Armand closed the miniscule distance between you until your noses were touching. 

“However, you are comfortable.” he smiled as he stroked your hair. “But first, there is one thing you have to see.” He stepped back from you far enough for you to see his whole face. Out of nowhere, two sharp fangs appeared. 

Your response was unexpected. You pulled him in for a kiss, fangs bared and all. And he let you. 

“I agreed to be a vampire’s companion and you thought that your fangs were going to be the deal breaker?” you giggled and he just shook his head at you. Taken by the complex little creature you were. “I do have one question.”

“Anything.” he looked at you like you were the entire galaxy.

“Your place or mine?” you found yourself in a strange apartment before the syllable died on your lips. “Yours I guess.” You answered your own question.

[latte355]

Rewatching the UConn vs USC game, and I don’t know why people are being so hard on Paige (looking at you, Maria Conlon). She hit key shots and picked up her defense against Juju in the second half (I know they were switching, but she had some important stops).

Juju scored 15 in the first and only 10 in the second. Paige only had 7 in the first half but 15 in the second. Could she have taken more shots? Yes, but I didn’t see a passive player. When they needed the 3 to tie at the end of the game, Paige only passed the ball to Sarah because she had a double team and Sarah was open. That was the smarter play IMO because we know Sarah can hit the 3. Juju closed in on her and fouled, sending Sarah to the line. When Paige got the rebound off that last missed free throw, there was no way she could shoot that ball, and she didn't have complete control. Passing it out to Sarah was again the smart play, not passive. I really, really hate this narrative!

Also, I've seen a couple of breakdowns on Twitter of a wide-open Paige calling for the ball, and her teammate completely ignored her. In another play, that same teammate gave Paige the ball but didn't set a screen, which allowed Juju to come in for the block. These lapses can't happen against Top 10 teams!

This game was winnable. If only they’d started the game with the defense they played in the second half. That goes for the Notre Dame game, too. Also, more KK! Her energy was so key. UConn really needs that third-scoring threat. They only had two players in double digits. But I'm excited that Azzi and Aubrey will be back.

Some people are already writing off UConn's chances to win the natty, but this team will look different in March/April. A key test will be how they play against South Carolina.

Keep building Huskies!

[hoiststowline]

tell me why

prowl x reader a/n: newly edited from my initial post on ao3, I will update it there as well!!

Sensing his deadpan before your feet even leave the stairs, you save him the scoff that was certainly headed your way and offer a middle finger instead. 

"You've got to be fragging joking." He won't open the passenger door, heaven forbid he let you sit in the driver's seat, yet his side-view mirror jerks your way in an aggravated manner. Languidly looking you up and down, and not in a way that makes you feel good about yourself, he continues with as much disgust, if not more. "Do you even care about appearances, or have you just given up entirely?"

"I'm sorry," You start, hand defiantly coming to your hip, anger seeping far too easily into your tone, now riled up. "I didn't really have a second to change when you called me at eleven-forty-eight, yelling at me to be outside in three minutes." Backpack hanging from one shoulder, the toe of your sneaker meets the pavement in an irked manner. "You're lucky I even picked up, I have you blocked from four different numbers, and yet, you've managed a way to contact me."

The police cruiser sputters, his engine growling as he argues, temper flaring alongside a familiar dramatic display. "I'm lucky?! y/n, please, I should drive off and leave you pissed that I got you out of recharge for nothing."

Your fingers curl around the door handle, tugging it twice to ignore his unkept threat. "Open the door," 

"You're the biggest pain in the aft I know, and that's saying something." The door pops open, narrowly missing your kneecaps, but you can't find an ounce of energy to start up another round of quarreling. Prowl's voice echoes from the center console as you throw your bag in the backseat, hard, bouncing off the leather before landing on the floor with an unceremonious thud. "Would you stop that?"

"You woke me up and are giving me attitude?" His rear-view mirror moves erratically now, straightening out until you're looking back at your reflection. 

"Get out." He doesn't particularly mean it, because the whole reason he called you is because he needs you, something he'd rather drop dead than admit. You're the bravest and yet the daftest individual to even offer a smidge of trust towards Prowl, but the only being that's shown him a glimmer of kindness in epochs. "I'll do it without you."

But the recently slammed door doesn't re-open, and his engine never cuts out, leaving the conversation hanging in empty air. The two of you sit in silence, the mech baiting you to erupt into an argument, but the only thing you propose is to sit in the front seat with arms crossed over your chest. 

"I hate you." The seatbelt clicks across your waist, tightening gently as a warning to behave. "I hate you so much, y/n, and I hate that I even resorted to coming here."

"You don't hate me because you wouldn't be here if you did." You jeer, sniffling before looking out the window, unimpressed by his nonchalant jab. "I'm one of the few friends you have, you bastard."

"Please," He takes off, moving down your street with purpose, hardly disclosing the actual reason for darkening your doorstep. "Let's set the record straight, we are not friends, not by any definition."

"Oh?" Your palm meets his dashboard, a half-hearted hit. "Then what are we, Prowl?"

"I'm an Autobot." Prowl snuffs, coming to a stop at a red light, yet jamming on his breaks a little too violently. "You, are annoying."

Rolling incurious eyes, you offer a swift kick the glovebox, leaving some residual dirt along the plastic. Beating him up was probably not the smartest idea you've had recently, though it was a valid response- you were on the verge of burnout. But the worst part of it all was that you could never deny Prowl, even as exhaustion threatened to claim you. He was abusing you, knowing your weakness was your compassion and ability to jump when he told you to. 

"Stuff it, you overgrown toaster." Your crankiness was leaving you with no filter, eyelids heavy as he began again down deserted roads, kicking up unsettled dirt with squeaky clean tires. 

"I have been alerted there is Decepticon activity in a secluded area where your species partakes in...street racing?" He relays it as if he's reading a transmission. "And I needed a driver."

"So you roll up, as a police car, to an area where people are doing illegal activities, with me in the passenger seat?" Elbow resting against the paneling of the door, your chin meets your hand. "Aren't you the smartest person alive."

"I-" For the first time since you've met him, he actually gives pause as if surveying his next round of words carefully. Whether that be to think of an insult or to think of a reason for how he's right, you give him thirty seconds before continuing. 

"You really woke me up on a Tuesday night for this shit, Prowl? I know you hate me but for fucks sake." He's been driving straightforwardly for a few minutes now, and taking in your surroundings, you realize he's long left city lines. "Hey, where are we going? How far away is this place?" 

"I lied." It's short as if he isn't going to provide any more information, and to nobody's surprise, he doesn't.

"You woke me up! For nothing! And you aren't even at least going to tell me why?!" Throwing your hands up in exasperation, you begin erratically pulling on the handle, even as he increases his speed. "Prowl, let me out, or so help me-" 

"You'll what?" Part of you wished the sadistic mech would open the door like you know he would, leaving you clean on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere. He'd done it before, but every time except once, he'd come back to get you, much to his grumbled annoyance. Yet, at this very moment, walking home was better than being with him any longer, patience long since tried. "Tough luck."

"I'll key you. I'll run my keys over your doors and steal your sirens, kick your bumper, disconnect your voice box-" Rattling off as many empty threats you could think of before you ran out of breath, you end the rant with one final blow. "Fuck you, Prowl, this is the last time I ever do anything for you. You insufferable, bird-brained jackass-"

Prowl takes it, every single one of your denunciations, listening and waiting patiently for your incessant prattling to end. He could wait, he's waited thus long, stewing in sleepless nights and throwing any object that he picked up, berthroom walls littered with dents from his servo meeting the metal. He could take one more klik of your unendurable squabble before he transforms, moving cautiously until you're wriggling in the palm of his servo, staring up at him as he stands off the pavement.  

"I will dump an entire gallon of iced tea in your interior," You stand, dusting yourself off as the black and white mech deposits your backpack at your feet. "Pause. Aren't you supposed to be careful about this shit? I know we're in the middle of nowhere but-" 

Prowl's staring, intently so. He eerily hasn't said a single word in five minutes, which is unlike the Prowl you were just previously bickering back and forth with. A frown is permanently etched onto his face plate, cerulean optics unblinking as he observes you and your body language, vexation evident.

"You're not often correct, y/n, but I will give you credit about one thing." A retort looms on your lips, but he silences you with one look. "You are one of the few friends I have left." 

There's a brief moment where it all comes at you ridiculously hard, his unselfish words for once, not agitated or backhanded. Prowl woke you up so late because he couldn't stand to be alone with his rampaging thoughts anymore, putting it off as long as possible before it all boiled over in one fell swoop. It's why he's indignant and irate towards you, at least more than normal because he's trying to process something uncertain of how to proceed. You cock your head to the side, trying to read his well-stifled emotions, but it all comes back to one thing where you release a shaky laugh.

"You're an asshole." Your palm finds your forehead, smacking it with a guiltiness residing in your chest, but the insult this time is much less sincere. Prowl deserved it, he and you both knew he did, but you were blindsided by his vagueness and impromptu wanting to meet up. "I really do hate you."

"You say that as if I don't hear it every damn cycle," His unoccupied hand comes to your back, circling you leaving you no means to escape. "Old news, y/n."

"Are you going to say it, or are you going to make me?" You push away his digit as it smacks you, enough to say 'Cut it out'. 

"Pain in my aft." Prowl gravels, leaning forward to deposit a kiss on the crown of your head. "Don't expect a ride home, ungrateful brat."

You refuse to believe you're blushing, reduced to nothing, as Prowl just offered genuine affection and not a mean-spirited one. Feeling relief in the non-existent explanation and exchange of pitiful and disputatious words, it could only be described as the last puzzle piece finally slotting into place. 

"Kindly, shut the-" You're interrupted as he presses a benign digit over your lips, successfully silencing you, though you don't doubt that wouldn't have happened anyway, even without his assistance. Instead of fighting back, you pull away from his soft pressure to kiss the tip of his finger, letting your lips linger before a weary sigh escapes you.

"Are you wearing that petrolatum on your dermas?" Prowl spits with disgust, yanking his servo away. "You are, aren't you? You fragging gremlin."

You hate Prowl. He was selfish, infuriating, and generally unfriendly to everyone he's ever had the pleasure of meeting, but for some otherworldly reason, you found yourself attracted to his stupid face and his outwardly unlikeable personality. There was a mountain of gold buried under layers of hardened concrete and false promise, but you were up for the challenge if he would let you in. 

[madlittlecriminal]

[08] Secret Ingredient⥓ Mafia!Miguel O'Hara × Female!Baker!Reader

Warnings: mentions of feet aching, hinting at threats, mentions of dana, no not being taken for an answer (dana), one use of y/n, one mention of cinderella, mention of adopting (the friend joke)

series masterlist | miguel o'hara masterlist

He spun you before the music came to a stop. To say your feet ached was an understatement. You both danced for five songs and it was probably the longest you've been in heels since you've opened your bakery and had made those late hours.

"You okay?" He asked, tilting his head to the side and furrowing his brows as he scanned you up and down.

"Yeah."

Miguel gave you a look that showed he knew you were lying.

You let out a breath. "Fine, my feet are killing me."

"Are they? Did I get the wrong shoes?" He watched as you sat down at the bar.

"No, they fit perfectly, but I just can't remember the last time I wore heels for this long," you tell him as your eyes locked with his. Seeing him without his ruby colored shades anywhere on his person was odd, but you could get used to it. If you were being honest, you could get used to it.

"Do you want to leave?"

You shook your head at his question before responding, "I'll be fine. Do what you have to do for your business."

He huffed out a breath before raising his hands up in defense. "If you insist."

"I do, actually."

Miguel couldn't help but chuckle before heading off to his colleagues to discuss Alchemax.

At least, that was to your knowledge.

In reality, Miguel was speaking to his other employees about Dana and the future of his family.

Luckily, none of Dana's people tried bothering you which was great for Miguel. He didn't want to send a warning to Dana so early after their meeting.

However, he froze when Gwen shook her head.

"She's not giving up. She wants you, Miguel."

He took a deep breath. "Well, I don't want her. Not again."

Gwen adjusted her glove as she looked over at Miles. They both remembered the stress he went through with Dana and afterwards. They were annoyed she didn't want to let Miguel go, especially when he seemed much calmer after he met you.

"She's not taking no for an answer..." Miles' words left his lips in hesitation, causing Miguel's jaw to tick in anger.

"I'll figure it out later. My night was going perfectly fine with (Y/N) and now you're telling me this because that...poor excuse of a woman thinks she owns me?"

Honestly, Gwen and Miles were proud of Miguel for not cursing, but they had to agree; Dana was a poor excuse of a woman. Not to mention, Lyla called her a spawn.

"Speaking of her," Gwen says as she looks over at you. "What are you two anyway?"

Miguel waved his hand in dismissal. "You both can go."

Gwen and Miles pressed their lips together to hold back their smiles before heading off to a different direction.

Miguel took a deep breath before going back to you, his nerves slowly returning, but he tried his hardest to hide them.

Keyword being try as he knew the slight tremor in his hand was a dead giveaway.

"Ready to go?" He asked, holding his hand out for you to take.

You nod as you take his hand, letting him lead you out of the building. Internally, Miguel did backflips, letting his inner high school lover boy get excited; he knew, romantically or not, you'd never hurt him like Dana did.

----

The next day, you wrote down new recipes for your bakery, but like Cinderella, you couldn't get it out of your head; the way he led you while dancing felt like a fairy tale. A soft laugh escaped your lips at the memory when you spun around on your own.

You wouldn't admit it to his face, but there was something about him that kept you drawn to him. You weren't sure if it was the aura he had or simply because you couldn't stop thinking about how shy he was when you two first met. Either way, he wasn't getting out of your head any time soon.

Letting out a sigh, you sat on your couch with your notebook in hand as you labeled the recipes to take with you tomorrow. You hummed as you looked through them, making sure you had a few new ones like tembleque, arepa dulce, kanom tuay, and cassava cake to make.

You checked your pantries and your fridge to make sure you had some things to begin at least one of the four recipes that were new to you.

As you worked on the dessert, your phone goes off. You furrow your brows as you wash your hands before drying them, and making your way to the couch where your phone rested. You picked up the phone and read the message, tilting your head to the side in confusion.

?: Tick Tock. Tick Tock.

You raised a brow in confusion until you heard a loud bang that made you jump. Looking up, you saw a cloud of smoke, making your eyebrows shoot up in shock. When you looked out the window, you saw the car in front of your apartment complex on fire.

Your car.

"What the fuck?" You muttered as you headed down to your car, phone still in hand.

"Hey!" A voice called out, making your eyes tear away from the car and meeting his.

Honestly, you've never been more thankful that Patrick usually came over to see you whenever you were going to make new desserts so he could try them first.

"You okay, darlin'?" He asked, checking for any injuries on your face and arms.

You nodded as you hugged him. "Yeah, I'm okay."

He stood with you as you answered questions for the officers and firefighters before taking you back into your apartment.

Patrick told you not to worry about the dessert and decided to cook something for you instead.

You were glad you and Patrick were friends as he says he adopted you after he saw how uncomfortable you looked in a packed bus. You two became friends and only ever had platonic feelings for each other.

Either way, you were glad you let him know you were making desserts today.

~~~~

tags:

@deputy-videogamer @barbiecrocs @deepinballs @faimmm @wakeupr41 @bubblegumfanfictions @smartyren @kimmis-stuff @latenightcravingz @youcantseem3 @corpsebridenightamare @thedevaxer @cicithemess @diannana @itsameclinicaldepresssion @hwasoup @migueloharasbbm @vkumi

[kandisheek]

FIC REC WEEK 52 – DAILY THEMES

EXES TO LOVERS

Finding A Way Back by Neverever

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: T Words: 4,219 Tags: Mutual Pining, Spiders, Superfamily

Summary: When Tony hurts his back, ex-husband Steve stays with him to take care of their son, Peter. Peter likes this arrangement a lot.

Reasons why I love it: Aww, thank god for Peter and his meddling ways, otherwise Steve and Tony might never have gotten their heads out of their asses. Peter is absolutely adorable in this even when he's being a terror, I love him so much. And the way Steve and Tony make up is super sweet. I love this fic, and I bet you will too, so I hope you check it out!

How to Date a Superhero Without Even Trying by sabrecmc

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: M Words: 18,270 Tags: Identity Porn, Interrupted Non-Con, Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Based on a prompt from a Tumblr Anon, it's 2am and Tony drunk dials his ex. He gets Captain America instead.

Reasons why I love it: God, I want to punch Ty and his little lackeys straight in the face. Thank god for Steve swooping in to save the day. As always, sabre's writing is impeccable, the backstory is fantastic, and I really love the resolution at the end. This fic is part of her Thank You Fics Round 3, and I've actually recced another one of these before, but once again I want to encourage you to just read all of them, because they're all amazing.

all I ever knew of love by mistymountainking

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: E Words: 10,394 Tags: Mutual Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt Tony

Summary: For six months, nobody knew that Tony Stark and Steve Rogers were dating. Which means no one knows they broke up six weeks ago.

Reasons why I love it: Aw, look at our idiot boys in love! The angst is so good, and the fluff at the end makes it even better. I'm always a sucker for near-death experiences, and this one is truly excellent! Definitely check this one out, it's amazing!

sorry not sorry by earliebirb

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: T Words: 1,506 Tags: Office AU, No Powers AU, Fluff

Summary: The moment he steps into the pantry, he starts to wonder if his dependence on caffeine has truly reached concerning levels to the point of causing hallucinations because standing right there in the pantry of the New York office is one Steve Rogers.   Tony’s ex-boyfriend is standing right there, arranging some boxes on the kitchen counter, like he’s been there all along and not living in Germany for the past two years. 

Reasons why I love it: I love a cheeky Steve who knows what he wants, especially if what he wants is Tony. This fic is super cute – Tony is an adorable mess, and Steve clearly wants to eat him up just as much as that box of donuts. And the ending is super sweet. I hope you go and check this one out for yourself, because it's lovely!

Rocky Road by sayah1112

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: M Words: 12,045 Tags: Identity Porn, Assumed Cheating, Threats of Violence

Summary: Tony Stark has been kidnapped... again. This time is different that the others, though, because his kidnappers are not interested in a ransom. They mean to kill him. His only hope rests upon the smashed smartwatch on his wrist that doesn't seem to want to work. When a call finally goes through, it's to the last person in the world he wants to talk to. His ex-boyfriend, Grant Stevens, who he put in his phone as FuckHead.

Reasons why I love it: I really love the misunderstanding here, it's completely reasonable for Tony to have thought what he did despite the truth. And the torture scene made my skin crawl, it's so well-written. Plus, the ending where they make up is really sweet. I love this fic so much, and I bet you will too, so I hope you check it out!

[moonedman]

All other sagas done in previous or future posts

Underworld Saga

this is probably my favorite saga. and also probably one of the most important, fundamentally. i think i filled five notebook pages on these three songs.

The Underworld

“I no longer dream” what my friend was once saying about how the screams he hears are real since he’s no heard them and knows what they sound like

“Past seems close behind” it’s catching up to him

Ough his crew asking “when does a man become a monster”

Ok so whatever the spirits are saying is the last thing they thought, meaning Odysseus’ crew considered him a monster, Polites is still upbeat and bright, his mom will wait for him

“Nothing is as it seems” possible that he’s just hallucinating this OR he doesn’t want to believe any of it.

I’m insane about Mr. Jorge Rivera-Herrans’ voice acting

Reminder! Greet the world with open arms! Don’t turn evil!

I know he’s not evil

HIS MOM

The realization finally hitting him that he’s been gone twelve years he’s lost and missed out on so much and he needs to get home

I’m going to blow up

Just. like. The beginning of realization

I’m going to blow up!!!!!!!!

No Longer You

“There is a world where I help you get home, but that’s not a world I know” opening us up to that no longer you idea

“Past romance” past is really interesting because he’s still married but it connects to the no longer you part

“Sacrifice of man” Previous sacrifices and also warning of future sacrifice

“Portrayal of betrayal” Scylla and Thunder bringer, but also in mutiny. Also when the wind bag was opened.

“Brother’s final stand” Eurylochus in mutiny, maybe Polites in Survive

“On the brink of death” well yes

“Man who gets to make it home alive/but it’s no longer you” he’s changed and lost so much that there’s like no way he’ll ever be the same king and husband and father. Also in the odyssey story Odysseus has to disguise himself as an old man so he can win back his wife

He also kills all the suitors i hope we get to see that

Denial is a river in Egypt your men are doomed

“Palace covered in red” please please please be the suitors dying but also those suitors are violent in general (I am so grateful my prayers were answered)

“I see a wife with a man who is haunting/a man with a trail of bodies” “WHO”

a) he’s haunting her. His leaving haunts her because of the men in her house, telemachus and his whole “no dad” thing, and just not having your husband around. His absence affects her just as greatly as it does him

b) odysseus doesn’t realize it’s him. He’s got the trail of bodies. He’s so absorbed by the thought of penelope.

“Past romance” [again] oooohhh their marriage is fucked. It’s so different now

Backing vocals of future things [“Siren’s call, Scylla’s throat, mutiny, lightning bolt, Poseidon, kill the suitors for love”]

That’s so cool I’m INSANE

I hate him

Monster

“How has everything been turned against us” …hmm. I wonder.

“Do I need to change” YOU ALREADY HAVE but now he’s considering doing it on purpose

You’re in the underworld of course the souls are around you

“I’m the only one whose line I haven’t crossed” and you’ll keep crossing them!

“What if the greatest threat we’ll find across the sea/Is me” BLOW UP [he’s like rethinking but also plotting? Like what if he was the biggest danger?]

Remember remember

“Too kind to foes but a monster to ourselves” he’s realizing he’s realizing he’s self aware he’s going to treat his men unfairly

All the foes he’s encountered are all doing what they can to protect those they love and odysseus is starting to see the similarities between them [and also the ones he wants to protect gets fewer until it’s just him almost [because he needs to see his wife and son so he needs to live]]

Plotting to keep his men safer by being more cruel

Anything for them

He’s willing to lose all morals in order to get home and keep as many people alive as possible but accidentally loses those base morals in the process of doing so

The animation i watched in the playlist i found showed a hallucination of Penelope taking the headband Odysseus took from Polites and that’s such a cool detail [throwing away the morals of being kind and keeping an open mind all for his wife]

I based my current DnD character off this song.

I’m so insane about the Ithaca saga do you tumblr people want to hear my full analysis of each song to celebrate

[gamebunny-advance]

Hah.

I'm not a linguist, so I don't have the terms to really describe what I'm explaining, but I like how the latest Pikmin comic implies that the Pikmin language probably doesn't contain specific words for specific items. Instead, it seems like they communicate almost strictly with descriptive language.

While it's possible that "bulborb" and "mushroom" are just similar sounding words in the Pikmin language, I think the implication is that their language is very context-sensitive, so missing any part of a message can significantly change its meaning.

So for example, "bulborb" might be something like "dangerous spotted big red" in the Pikmin language, then the yellow pikmin might have misheard the "dangerous" part and just heard "spotted big red" which would be their word for "mushroom."

It's very fascinating~

[the-real-list-of-ominous-threats]

if anyone has no idea what I've been talking about recently, I suggest you go to @fanonical or @nyancrimew , who explain this better than I ever could, but from what I can tell, basically staff has been ignoring reports of harassment against trans women, one member of staff was actively banning trans users, and the CEO started a smear campaign against a trans woman because she jokingly said she wished he would get exploded with hammers (you know, the kind of thing I say regularly--because he wasn't doing anything to protect trans users and hired the aforementioned transphobic staff member), claiming that it was 'a death threat' and that she was 'being violent'....nevermind that she was getting much worse anon harassment with actual death threats on the regular. And then when he banned her and she went to a different site, he followed her there to continue the smear campaign instead of being normal and dropping the subject.

[waystarresourceco]

Alan Ruck on Conor and Logan's relationship (and a little look into why Connor wasn't a contender for heir apparent). (x)

[wonder-worker]

I've been thinking about the tragedy of Elizabeth Woodville living to see the end of her family name.

I don't mean her family with her husband, which lived on through her daughter and grandson. I mean her own.

Her sisters died, one by one, many of them after 1485. When Elizabeth died, only Katherine was left, and she would die before the turn of the century as well.

All her brothers died, too. Lewis died in childhood. John was executed. Anthony was murdered. Lionel died suddenly in the peak of Richard's reign, unable to see his niece become queen. Edward perished at war. Richard died in grieving peace. For all the violence and judgement the family endured, it was "an accident of biology" that ended their line: none of the brothers left heirs, and the Woodville name was extinguished. We know the family was aware of this. We know they mourned it, too:

“Buy a bell to be a tenor at Grafton to the bells now there, for a remembrance of the last of my blood.”

Elizabeth lived through the deposition and death of her young sons, and lived to see the end of her own family name. It must have been such a haunting loss, on both sides.